Unreconciled

by W. Michael Gear

  Shyanne gave him that old brown-eyed scrutiny. “Hear that you’re in charge now.”

  “Someone has to be.”

  “Tamil and I, we’d like to come back. Is that a possibility? I mean . . . there’s Svetlana. What happened to her and Hakil. I know that you and she were . . .”

  Vartan chuckled under his breath. “She believed. We all did to one extent or another. But here’s the thing: If we can’t find it in ourselves to forgive one another, how do we expect the Donovanians to? It’s got to start somewhere.”

  She gave him a weary smile. Turned to Tamil and said, “Guess you can unload our luggage.”

  Vartan looked up, saw Talina Perez in the doorway, her hand resting on her pistol. “Hello, Security Officer. How’s Dek Taglioni?”

  “Looks like he’ll get away with a juicy scar. How are things?”

  “Little Tina Brooks lost a lower leg to a slug. We finally got the bleeding stopped after we amputated. Looks like she’ll live.”

  “That’s tough.”

  Shyanne asked, “Who did the amputation?”

  “I did. Scared the hell out of me.”

  “Then, maybe you’re glad to have me back after all. I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a doctor. Not much else a veterinary tech can do on a planet with no dogs, cats, cattle, or horses.”

  Tamil was at the rear of the airtruck, had opened the hatch and was laying out what looked like leather suitcases.

  Talina said, “Just so you know, we’re going to be flying out west. Whatever that thing is in the forest, the one that got Talbot and Dya, Kylee thinks she knows how to find it. Didn’t want you thinking we were after you.”

  “After you?” Shyanne asked.

  Vartan took a deep breath, that lingering unease in his gut. “Let’s just say that when the Supervisor and her party took their leave of Tyson Station they weren’t in a forgive-and-forget mood.”

  “No happy endings, huh?”

  “Nope.” Vartan looked up. “Officer Perez, I’m saying this now, and I’ll continue to say it. As long as I am alive, any and all are welcome at Tyson. No one, under any circumstance, will be turned away. PA or Corporate. That includes you, Security Officer. You want to hunt that thing? You’re welcome to use Tyson as a base.”

  Talina’s curiously shaped face reflected hesitation. “Thanks. I’ll pass the word. Meantime, I’ve got to be going.”

  “Sure you won’t stay for lunch?”

  Perez’s alien-dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t press your luck.”

  With that she stepped back inside, closed the cab door, and began to spool up the fans as Tamil battened the back hatch and lugged the leather cases away.

  As the airtruck rose, circled, and headed back to the northwest, Shyanne cryptically asked, “Did you have to invite her for lunch?”

  “It’s only beans and cabbage.”

  He turned, leading the way toward the admin dome. Truth was, he was glad to have her back. He needed someone to remind the women that they’d been people before the Messiah’s tyranny had turned them into breeding stock. Shyanne would be just the woman to do it.

  84

  As the shuttle settled into its berth, Derek Taglioni couldn’t keep a smile from bending the corners of his lips. The feel of the ship comforted him. Hard as that was to believe.

  “Hard dock. Hard seal,” Ensign Naftali told him.

  Ashanti’s always-pleasant voice announced, “Welcome aboard” through the speakers.

  “Good to be back,” Dek called. “Missed you, old friend.”

  “We missed you as well, Dek. First Officer Turner has been appraised of your arrival and will meet you in the Captain’s Lounge.”

  Dek unstrapped, glanced over at Dan Wirth, seeing devious wariness in the psychopath’s clever eyes. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Hey, I almost died in a plastic box while a bunch of overgrown lizards chewed on it. Lead forth, and let us begin.” Wirth rose and extended a hand that Dek precede him. “Whole lot better arrival than that last departure from Turalon. I barely got off that bucket with my balls intact.”

  “Woman trouble, I take it?” Dek acknowledged Naftali’s salute and led the way to the hatch.

  “Is there any other kind?” Wirth asked, pausing long enough to adjust his quetzal-hide vest and its garish chains.

  “Oh, yeah. Cannibals hunting you, jealous relatives, Corporate regulations.” A beat. “An illegally assumed identity to cover a murder.”

  “Don’t get funny.”

  Dek gave the man a flippant raise of the eyebrows. “Come on. Let’s get this started.”

  As Dek led the way past the hatch, it was into a different Ashanti. The sialon had been scrubbed, the air smelling slightly astringent. Taking the lift, it was like a homecoming. The feel of the ship, so familiar after all those years. And at the same time, she was different. Smelled more earthy? Green? Alive?

  But when it came to different, so was he: tanned, muscular, with a glaring pink scar under his left eye. Dr. Turnienko had repaired the bone in what she’d called his left maxilla. A scar he’d indeed have, but not a dent.

  As they stepped out of the lift on the Command Deck, Wirth muttered, “I’d hate to discover that armed security personnel with a warrant for my arrest waited behind one of the doors. If that happened, you know I wouldn’t hesitate to blow a hole right through you before they killed me.”

  Wirth danced his fingers on the grip of the holstered pistol at his belt. And true, he was fast enough that Dek wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Reaching the Captain’s Lounge hatch, Dek turned. “Here’s what you need to know: My cousin, Miko, is a smart, crafty, clever, and cunning monster. A craftier and more clever monster than I. And believe me, when it came to being a plotting pit viper, I tried. He despised me, with good reason.”

  “Not exactly a scintillating recommendation of character that you’re giving him, or yourself, is it?”

  “And you have a right to talk?” Dek arched a questioning brow. “By now your container with all the plunder is being loaded in the cargo deck with a Taglioni seal prominently displayed on it. It will only be opened by Taglioni agents in Transluna, and its contents will be reported straight to Miko.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and from there—with your recommendation and Miko’s blessing—your people can buy my safe return. That’s a shitload of plunder. In terms of Solar System, it’s worth billions. You get your ten percent. But that’s just a pittance compared to what’s to come.”

  “I get more than that. I slap Miko right across his perfectly sculpted face. And I do it with wealth the likes of which he’s never seen. There is no way you can understand what that means to me.” Dek saw the hesitation in Wirth’s eyes, and added, “Come on, Dan. In your world it’s all about you. Heartless, without remorse. The high and rarified circles of power that make up Transluna are just the place for you. So, in a sense, getting you back to Solar System is my way of paying them all back.”

  “And to think some would call you petty.”

  Dek opened the door, ushered Wirth into the small room, and shook hands with Ed Turner. “Hey, old friend. Good to see you again.”

  “My God! Your face. I’d heard you were wounded. That’s . . . horrible!”

  “It’s healing. Ed, this is Dan Wirth. Dan, Ed Turner is the finest First Officer to space with in the entire universe.”

  Turner shook hands with Wirth, offered seats, and Dek dropped into his familiar spot. “Hear you’re in the captain’s chair to take Ashanti back to Solar System.”

  Turner settled into Galluzzi’s chair. “I don’t know what Miguel’s doing. I think getting here was just too much. That it broke something in his spirit. He’s been living down in PA. Keeping a low profile at Shig’s place.”

  “Hope you don’t have as interesting a ride getting back.”


  “I’ll take my chances. I’m just not a dirtie. And besides, you should see Deck Three. We ripped out the bulkheads, put in light panels, hauled up dirt. Turned the whole thing into a farm to augment the hydroponics. And we’re going back as a skeleton crew. About fifteen of our people, another ten of Torgussen’s when Vixen matches with us next week. If we get stranded somewhere, we can survive for decades.”

  “Naw. If you’ve planned for it, it won’t happen. My bet? You’re back off Neptune in two-and-a-half years.” Dek reached into his pocket and handed Turner the data cube. “This is important. I’m entrusting it to you, and you alone. Seal it in the captain’s pouch. Mark it urgent delivery to Boardmember Miko Taglioni or whoever his successor on the Board might be.”

  Turner’s washed-out blue eyes held Dek’s for a moment. Then he glanced at Wirth. Nodded. Took the data cube. “It will be done.”

  “And as I speak, there’s a container being transferred from the shuttle to the cargo deck. It, too, bears the Taglioni seal. Make sure it is immediately delivered to my family’s agents.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Happy spacing, Ed.”

  Turner frowned slightly. Studied the cube. “Dek? You sure you don’t want to go with us? You almost died down there as it is.”

  “Positive. You’d be surprised at what I found down there.”

  “Like . . . what?”

  “A whole new world.” Dek stood.

  Wirth followed, shaking Turner’s hand. “Good to meet you. Before you space, drop by The Jewel. We’ll set you up right. Have Angelina give your cock the milking of a lifetime. On the house, First Officer.”

  “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

  Outside the hatch, Wirth jerked a thumb back at the lounge. “Maybe he didn’t get it? Outside of Ali, Angelina’s the best on the planet. And it’s not like just anyone gets free tail from her.”

  “Well, Dan. Not everyone’s a connoisseur.” Dek slapped the man on the back. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before Turner gets any ideas about warrants and men with guns.”

  85

  The last shuttle left Port Authority on a cloudy morning, rising through rain squalls before bursting out into Capella’s bright light and ascending from the puffy white mounds of cumulus. Within minutes it shot through the stratosphere and into the darkening threshold of vacuum.

  In the copilot’s seat, Miguel Galluzzi watched the familiar patterns of stars form in all of their swirling majesty, the nebulae, galaxies, and dark matter stretching across his view. Capella was a glaring orb to the left as the shuttle changed attitude.

  Where was . . .? Ah, yes. There. Freelander hung just over Donovan’s horizon. A small ball against the background of stars. Even from this distance, it didn’t look right. Having seen orbiting ships his entire career, Galluzzi couldn’t put his finger on the difference. As if the thing was eating light.

  He wondered if, in the infinite eventuality of time, the leak would drain his universe away, siphon it slowly into whatever hellish existence Freelander had passed through. If it did, what would happen to the essence of his beloved Tyne Sakihara? It turned out that he had to believe that he was more than molecules and electrochemical stimuli. Indeed, he’d decided what he’d cling to.

  In silent tribute, Galluzzi raised a hand and snapped off a salute just before the vessel passed out of sight.

  After Freelander he would never again see the universe through jaded eyes. Was that redemption? Or revelation?

  “Thank you, Shig,” he whispered under his breath.

  Memory of the little brown man with the round face and unruly hair would remain chiseled in Miguel Galluzzi’s heart and soul until he took his last breath. How, in all of creation, could luck have placed him into such knowing, caring, and competent hands?

  The shuttle rolled under Ensign Naftali’s skilled command. Ashanti appeared in view. Dead ahead. Vixen’s shuttle was just departing, returning back to the survey ship. It would have just deposited those crew members who’d opted to ride Ashanti home.

  Their return created an interesting dilemma for The Corporation. The Vixen crew were owed an absolute fortune: sixty to seventy years’ wages, including mission bonus, including overtime for service beyond stated period of contract, and compounded interest. And they were still in the prime of their careers.

  Leave that to the Board to figure out.

  Galluzzi grinned.

  Naftali turned down Ashanti’s routine request to assume control of the shuttle prior to docking.

  To Galluzzi’s supreme satisfaction, the ensign settled them into the bay without so much as a quiver. The familiar vibrations told him the shuttle was locked down.

  “Hard dock, hard seal,” Naftali told him, turning in the command seat. “Welcome home, sir.”

  Galluzzi gave the ensign a wink, stood, and made his way to the hatch. There, Dan Wirth waited, his quetzal vest buttoned, the priceless rhodium and gold chains gleaming in the light. The man was smiling, boyish, which accented the dimple in his chin. A curious reservation lay behind his brown eyes.

  “I’ll see that you are assigned to Dek’s old quarters,” Galluzzi told him. “Best in the ship, as befitted a Taglioni.”

  “What about when we get to Neptune?”

  “You are to be delivered directly to Taglioni agents. No customs.”

  Wirth’s smile beamed in triumph. “Should be quite a ride.”

  Galluzzi paused as the hatch was undogged. “I do hope that you know what you’re doing. You have quite the unsavory reputation as a gambler, cutthroat, and con man. But you do understand what you’re getting into, don’t you?”

  “Biggest game of my life, Cap.” Wirth gave him a wink. “And, yeah, I promise. I won’t so much as lift a card with any of the crew on the way back.”

  The hatch swung open. Turner, Smart, and AO Tuulikki stood waiting in dress uniform. They saluted in unison, and Turner said, “Welcome aboard, sir.”

  “Good to be back.” Galluzzi studied Turner’s watery eyes. “I’m not here to bump you out of the captain’s chair, Ed. I’m happy to let you take her back to Solar System.”

  Turner and others were watching him warily.

  “You all right, sir?” Paul Smart asked.

  “Oddly, Paul, never better.”

  “Thought, given the way you left, that we’d be lucky to ever see you again,” Tuulikki told him. “What happened down there?”

  Galluzzi clasped his hands behind him, rocking up on his toes. “The Unreconciled were right about one thing: The universe continually teaches us. Sometimes you have to lose yourself to find yourself.”

  Turner winced. “Not sure I understand.”

  “No, Captain Turner,” Galluzzi told him, “I don’t suppose you do. And that’s the crying shame of it. Now, why don’t you good people show Mr. Wirth here to his cabin and take us home?”

  With that he strode past them, headed for the lift that would take him to Crew Deck.

  86

  Sitting behind the big chabacho-wood desk, Allison leaned back in Dan’s chair. With a long fingernail she tapped at her incisor teeth and studied the empty corner where Dan’s safes had stood. The room looked remarkably empty without them.

  She glanced at the ledger book on the desk. Business was down fifteen percent since Dan’s departure.

  Dan’s last words echoed in her memory: “Taglioni’s got a way to fix it for me. I’m going back before I’m inclined to cut that beautiful throat of yours, or worse, wake up with your knife sticking out of my heart. You, babe, are going to run my interests here. Fifty-fifty. And don’t fuck with me, or I’ll send someone back to slit you open from your ribs clear down to your cunt.”

  All of which gave her hope. If plunder was what it took to get Dan back to Transluna in spite of his background, she’d be a shoo-in when the day came.

  At a
hesitant knock, she closed the ledger, calling, “Come in.”

  Dek Taglioni stepped through the door and hesitated, looking around the room. “It’s just not the same without those brooding safes, is it?”

  “I have Lawson welding me up a new one. Sturdier legs this time.”

  He walked over, glanced at the whiskey in its blown-glass decanter. “You mind?”

  “Help yourself.” She arched a trim eyebrow. “I assume your visit has some purpose beyond a free drink?”

  “Just thought I’d drop in and see how things are.” He poured two glasses, bringing her one. Then he seated himself across from her.

  She gave him a smile as she met his yellow-green eyes. The healing scar on his cheek didn’t spoil his good looks, if anything the blemish added to the allure. Lifting the whiskey in mock salute, she said, “So, spill it. What irresistible proposition have you come to dazzle me with?”

  “Straight to business, I see.”

  “In my world, business is all there is. So, here you are. A rich Taglioni. Handsome as all get out, and with that cute dimple in your chin. Dan’s gone. Thank you very much. So, what’s your pitch?”

  “I did you a favor.” He spread his arms, palms up to indicate the room around them. “Must be a relief to sleep at night without having to tread on eggshells. There’s easier ways to make a living than playing Russian roulette with a stone-cold psychopath.”

  “Living with Dan has been both terrifying and educational . . . and I survived four years of it. Trust me, once I figured out what he was, I never underestimated what he was capable of.” She gave him a narrow smile. “Or any man, for that matter. All of which leaves me very wary of you.”

  “I was wondering if you might need any of my . . .”

  Another knock at the door. This one insistent. Kalen Tompzen called, “I’ve got him, ma’am.”

  “Excuse me.” She stood, calling, “Kalen, bring him in.”

  She stepped to the back table, dropped her hand to the shelf built into the wall.