“Ah crap,” Bennie mutters.
Gabe and Wil both look up the street at the half-dozen aliens of as many different species waiting there, all in dark red robs, hoods up over their heads. “Who’re these guys?” Wil asks. The only difference between these six and every other robed alien nearby is that the six approaching have dark gray sashes with some type of badge on it across their bodies.
“I believe four of them are the same beings who were following us previously,” Gabe says.
“Great,” Wil mutters. “We haven’t broken any of their laws or whatever.” He looks down at Bennie. “Have we?”
Bennie shrugs. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”
“You do not think so?” Gabe asks. The group of robed aliens has changed course and is following them towards the alleyway that leads back to the spaceport. Gabe stops. “Captain, this alley does not have an exit.”
Wil sighs and stops dead in his tracks. He turns back toward their pursuers. “Hi there, fellas. Is there something we can do for you?”
The leader of the group steps forward, reaching up to lower his hood, revealing Quillant features. He points to Bennie. “Ben-Ari Vulvo, you must come with us, by order of the high clergy of Ulop.”
“I knew it,” Wil mutters, looking down at Bennie. “Can’t take you anywhere!” he hisses. Looking back up at the Quillant and his friends, he adds, “Listen, fellas, we’re not sure who this Ben array vulva is, but,” gesturing to Bennie, “this isn’t him. This is my valet, Alfred.”
Bennie bows, but says nothing.
The Quillant smiles. “A DNA scan can clear this up easily. Please, travelers, come with us.” The Quillant turns, gesturing back towards the alley’s only exit. His compatriots step back, creating an opening. “Please.”
“What exactly did this Ben-Ari character do?” Gabe asks, not taking a step.
“Ben-Ari Vulvo is accused of hacking into the church’s mainframe and stealing highly sensitive information.” The leader glares at Bennie.
“They weren’t paying their taxes,” Bennie starts, then clamps his mouth shut.
“Sweet boneless nudon, dude!” Wil says, pushing his long brown coat aside to quickly draw his pulse pistol, shooting at the building over the heads of the crowd of now angry robed aliens. “Everyone on the ground!” Wil shouts. Beside him, he hears a whirring sound from Gabe and glances over. One of Gabe’s hands has transformed into a large blaster. “That’s new,” Wil says.
Gabe nods. “I have been experimenting with my body’s ability to reconfigure some of its components. A side effect, as it were, of being designed by the Amalgamation of Parts. What do you think?” He raises his gun-arm and tilts it from side to side.
Before Wil can answer a shot rings out and an energy blast strikes Gabe in the chest, narrowly missing Wil’s head. Without missing a beat, Gabe lowers his arm and fires at the offending zealot, dropping the being to the ground. “Stunned,” Gabe offers, moving toward the others, all now lying prone on the ground.
“You cannot escape Ben-Ari!” the lead zealot says, looking up from the ground. He starts to rise, then jitters slightly and collapses, a wave of energy washing over him. Wil glances at Gabe, just as his blaster arm is reconfiguring back into his hand.
“Let’s go already!” Bennie says in a loud whisper, as they exit the alley and jog towards the spaceport. Gabe reaches down and picks the little hacker up, tucking him under his arm.
“Bennie, I hate you sometimes,” Wil says. “What did you steal?”
“Gods, I don’t even remember!” the little hacker shouts as he bounces under Gabe’s arm. “I was hired by, who was it? Oh, that’s right. Some syndicate guys hired me, I think from Odolar, to dig up the data the church guys were hiding.”
“What was it?” Gabe asks, glancing down. They’ve slowed their pace after taking several turns. “The data, I mean. You mentioned that the church was not paying their taxes.”
“Beyond that, no idea,” Bennie says, as Gabe lowers him to the ground.
“You expect us to believe you didn’t look?” Wil asks. “You’ve gone through everyone’s quarters and rummaged through their stuff. Of course you looked.”
“Oh, I definitely looked, it just wasn’t interesting. I got to the tax stuff and started to zone out. I sent the file to the client, archived my copy and went to dinner, if I recall correctly.” He looks up at Wil and smirks. “Also, I only go through your stuff.”
“Why you little!” Wil makes a grab for the little Brailack, who expertly dodges and trots on ahead a few steps. “Hate him,” Wil mutters again.