by Baen Books
Damn those bastards. That was supposed to have been her Opportunity. She’d won the luck, and Sorte cards never failed to deliver luck to the winner.
Pain stabbing her ribs with every movement, Jane pulled the duster off the thug she’d smashed against the wall and tugged it on. She had neither the time nor inclination to check if he was still breathing.
“Who are you?” she demanded, glaring at Asher. “Why’d you try to save me?”
Asher curled in on himself, shoulders hunched and head down, like a dog with a cruel master who expected another blow to come at any second.
“I’m nobody,” he said. He turned to walk away.
Jane caught his arm and spun him around.
“How come roping me didn’t work out for Gideon?” she asked.
“It weren’t him doing the deed,” Asher said. “His luck falls off sharply when it ain’t him actually doing the endeavoring.”
An alarm bell clanged and folks rushed from their homes to see the bright blaze crawling up the side of Gideon’s saloon. Jane slapped her gaucho hat back on her head. She stared at Asher, a deep frown pulling down her mouth.
“This weren’t no business of yours,” she said. “Why’d you go risking your life to help a stranger?”
Dancing firelight lit up one side of Asher’s trembling face. “What’s it matter?” he sputtered in a burst that was a bark of laughter and a cry of anguish both at the same time. “My life ain’t worth living. Only hope I got left is that Gideon’ll get angry enough to shoot me dead.”
Jane stared at him a moment longer while the gears in her mind clicked into place.
“You were on the losing side, weren’t you?” she said. “When Gideon won that Endeavor luck, he won it from you. Now anything you try to do fails. Even when all you’re trying to do is end your own life.”
Asher said nothing, just stood there fighting to hold back tears. And like everything else the man aspired to do, he failed.
For a flash, his eyes were those of another man. A man Jane had left to die in a cage.
Pomogi mne.
They’d been the only words he’d uttered, almost too weak to hear. Though she didn’t speak a word of Russian, there was no mistaking when a man was begging for his life.
Jane turned from Asher and set out walking with purpose. The voice of the Russian followed her.
Pomogi mne.
They’d shipped him across the Atlantic in an iron cage, to sell to the highest bidder. It had been darn near impossible to believe he could turn himself into one of those fearsome dragons they say terrorized the Ural Mountains so many years ago. Frail as a water reed and halfway starved to death, dragging him along would have slowed her down too much. She’d had to leave him behind. Her daughter needed her.
Why’d you leave him to die, Momma?
I only did what I had to, sweet girl. It won’t matter once we’re together again. You’ll never know the horrible things I had to do to get to you.
The townspeople all stood lined up on either side of the road, gawking like Jane was lead horse in a circus caravan parading itself through town. She met the stare of a tall fellow still dressed in his nightclothes.
“Gideon,” she growled.
The man pointed down the road to a castle of a house, so tall and wide it seemed to be pushing the neighboring buildings aside. Jane marched for it. She’d pull her Opportunity right out of Gideon’s hide if that’s what it took.
“Gideon!” she bellowed up at the balcony jutting out from the second floor of Gideon’s mansion. “Come face me yourself, you coward!”
A moment later, Gideon stormed out onto the balcony. He stared into the distance, where men ran in circles around his saloon, shouting and throwing water on the dwindling flames. Gideon’s eyes shifted, glaring down at her as if he couldn’t believe she had the nerve to still be alive.
“You want a real game of cards?” she called out. “I got some Opportunity luck I need to use up before sunrise. Come face me in a game of thirteen-card Sorte.” Jane turned, then shouted back over her shoulder. “That is, if your place ain’t burnt up, yet.”
#
It must have been the whole town that packed in Gideon’s saloon, crowded around the playing table, come to see the woman crazy enough to play Gideon in a hand of thirteen-card Sorte. The stakes were higher than seven-card by a mile. And then some. That was the point. Jane was going to use her Opportunity to win enough luck that she couldn’t help but find what remained of her tribe. She could only pray her daughter was still alive and with them.
Lingering smoke filled the room, the scent of charred wood thick enough to give Jane a headache. She sat wearing nothing save her hat and the oversized duster, dirt rubbing in the cracks between her bare toes. Gideon stared at her as he lit a cigarillo and blew a cloud of sweet tobacco smoke across the table. He didn’t smile, but his eyes shone, wild and alive. The soldier and the other thugs who attacked her stood behind Gideon like he was their shield. Asher hid among the crowd, where Jane wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for him.
The dealer fanned out twenty-six cards into two rows representing the thirteen realms of luck and the thirteen ranks of luck. They were simple, single-color icons, but once the dealer flipped them face down and started shuffling, they mixed like shades of paint. Hidden from every eye in the room, each became a unique combination of realm and rank, 169 different possibilities. Somewhere during the shuffling, it was impossible to watch close enough to say exactly when, the number of cards changed, so the deck wound up with exactly enough cards for everyone at the table.
The dealer flicked three cards to each of them and Jane scooped hers up. The Dancing Madman. Skeleton Knife. Candle of Memory. They didn’t add up to much. Skeleton Knife was easily the highest rank, so she played it face-down on the table in front of her. Gideon looked up at her and frowned. Annoyed by how fast she made her decision, she had to guess. What did he expect? She wasn't going to beat him with strategic thinking. Her Opportunity luck was either strong enough to give his Endeavor luck a run for his money or it wasn’t.
Gideon laid down his card. They both turned over. He’d played Golden Fish. He had her outranked. But it was only the first card.
The dealer tossed another card to each of them, adding Liar’s River to the two cards she still held. What matched up strong with the Skeleton Knife she’d already laid down? It didn’t take but a second before the answer hit her.
Gideon had led with Golden Fish. That almost always built a set in the Endeavor realm. She already had a high trump for that realm in her hand. She just had to play Liar’s River next, then Candle of Memory the last round.
Was it possible Gideon might draw a combination to come back over the top? Hell, the man was playing with all the luck in the world in his pocket, the long odds against that didn’t make a whit of difference. But morning would break soon, and the luck she’d won promised to deliver by sunrise. This had to be her Opportunity. It had to be. Fate was laying it out clear as day right in front of her: he had the beginnings of a high-rank Endeavor set and she had the three best cards in the deck to win it from him.
Gideon laid down his card. Jane played Liar’s River face-down behind her Skeleton Knife card. They flipped.
Empty Mirror. He’d played Empty Mirror. It was exactly what she’d hoped for. He was building an Endeavor set and she had him trumped. There was only one card in the whole 169 that could save him now.
Jane’s hands shook. Gideon looked up at her with a smirk. He thought she was nervous about the cards. Years of perfect fortune had robbed him of his instincts. He couldn’t see she’d already all but won. She wasn’t shaking from nerves. She was . . .
Why exactly was she shaking?
When you come back to me, who will you be, Momma?
Who will I be?
You stole from them that had nothing to spare. You let a man die in his cage.
I only did what I had to. To find you. So I can protect you. When
we’re together again I won’t have to do such things anymore. You’ll never have to know what I’ve done these past couple years.
Life ain’t gonna get any easier, Momma, not for us. A time’ll come that you’ll hurt someone and I’ll see it. I’ll know what you’ve become.
No. I . . .
You can’t return to me, Momma. Not like this.
But I have to. This luck will be gone by sunrise. This right here’s gotta be my Opportunity. It’s gotta be. ‘Cause if this ain’t it . . . what is?
The trembling in Jane’s hands threatened to shake her cards free. She slapped them face-down on the table and intertwined her fingers, squeezed as hard as she could. The shaking wouldn’t stop. She stood, knocking her chair over. The crowd whispered and snickered.
“This ain’t poker,” Gideon said. He lifted a snifter of whiskey to smiling lips. “Can’t fold and walk.”
She would play away from the trump. That’s what she’d do. Whatever card she drew next, she’d make the lowest set she could, take whatever bad luck was her punishment. She didn’t have another choice. She couldn’t face her daughter now. Not like she was.
Jane fought to smooth out her lungs’ jagged gasps. They stared at her, every last soul in the crowd. Some with amusement, the more kindly folks with sympathy or even horror, guessing from her expression she was about to get loaded down with a terrible affliction of bad luck.
Her eyes stopped when they met Asher’s. Though she would have sworn it was impossible, those eyes carried even more sorrow than when she first saw them. This time, the sorrow was not for his own plight. It was for hers.
Pomogi mne.
Fate was offering her an Opportunity all right. But it wasn’t the chance to win luck off Gideon.
Jane’s hands stopped shaking. The dealer tossed her last card to her, but she didn’t pick it up. Still standing, she lifted the Candle of Memory card off the table and held it out, back side facing Gideon.
“I’ve got the Candle of Memory,” she taunted, forcing her smile wide. “And you’re working on an Endeavor set. I have you trumped.”
Fury wasn’t the only emotion that duked it out for control of Gideon’s face, but it was the clear winner.
“You’re lying, red woman,” he said, voice tightly reined in. “Trying to fool me into playing away from the Endeavor realm ‘cause you ain’t got the cards to beat it.”
“Then lay it down if you got the guts. But I know you don’t.”
Gideon bared teeth bit together in anger.
“Even with more luck than any other man alive, you’re too cowardly to play at me. That’s why you sent thugs to ambush me, ‘cause you were too cowardly to try and rope me yourself.”
Gideon’s face burned red and his cheeks trembled. Whatever he was itching to say, his temper had boiled the words right out of his mouth.
Jane placed the Candle of Memory card face down on top of her other unplayed cards. She couldn’t play it, yet. Not if she wanted her trick to work.
Then she did something she’d never done before, something she’d have no faith in trying if luck weren’t on her side. She started a shape shift she had no intention of finishing. Just enough to get scales growing across her chest. Just enough so that her eyes burned bright orange and her pupils melted to black slits and bone fangs snapped inches from Gideon’s face when she leaned forward with a wicked smile and whispered, “Your move.”
Gideon threw himself back from the table, jumped to his feet, and fired a shot from his six-gun before anyone else in the room had a chance to so much as blink.
The bullet shattered a scale on Jane’s chest, a sharp point of pain exploding across her torso. Goading Gideon into firing on her had been Jane’s aim, but still the shock swept her legs out from under her. Forehead pressed against the hard varnish of the floor, she fell back into fully-human shape and coughed blood into her hand. Likely as not, she had a fractured rib.
After the screams and gasps faded away, the crowd closed in to see whether Jane was dead. The dealer knelt to speak to her.
“Are you alive?” he asked. “Can you continue?”
Jane groaned and gave a slow, slight shake of her head, made like she was trying to speak but couldn’t quite manage. “Asher . . .” she said.
“Asher?” the dealer asked. With that, every head in the crowd spun about until they locked on Asher. Startled as he was, the man’s usual hunched-shoulder posture momentarily disappeared.
“What the hell?” Gideon bellowed.
“A game of Sorte can’t be stopped before the final cards are played,” the dealer said. “If she can’t continue, she’s allowed to pick her replacement.”
Gideon’s face fought with itself again. This time, he wrestled a confident smile into place.
“What’s the point in letting him finish her hand?” Gideon laughed. “I can’t lose and he can’t win.”
Asher looked at Jane, unsure. Jane herself wasn’t so sure of her plan. She had to trust that this was the moment her Opportunity luck had brought her to.
Asher shambled forward, lowered himself into the seat, and picked up the cards. Jane had to stifle a whimper as a pair of men hooked their arms under hers and hefted her into a chair.
Asher didn’t hesitate. He plucked the Candle of Memory card and laid it face down behind the two Jane had already played. Gideon paused just long enough to scowl, caught himself, and smacked his final play card down with a tight-lipped smile. The two players flipped their cards face-up.
Gideon had played Orphan of Night. The overconfident fool had actually completed the Thirteenth rank Endeavor set. The color burned off his cards, turning them white. But not nearly so white as Gideon’s face.
The stunned crowd didn’t make a sound as Asher stood, plucked a cigarillo from Gideon’s shirt pocket, and bounced a match off the table. The match lit when it struck the wood surface and popped right up into Asher’s hand. The new king of El Perdido puffed his cigarillo to life.
Gideon yanked his six-gun from its holster and aimed the barrel at his temple. Asher slammed his fist on the table, bouncing the opposite side up and knocking the gun from Gideon’s hand.
“Fate ain’t gonna let you off that easy,” Asher said. “All you woulda done is hurt yourself bad enough to spend the rest of your life regretting the attempt. But thank your lucky cards I’m gonna be a damn sight kinder to you than you ever was to me.”
Jane stood, painfully, one hand over her ribs. She limped toward the door.
“Why’d you do that?” Asher called after her.
“Got my reasons,” she said without looking back.
Jane stepped out into the night. The first dim hints of dawn lightened the horizon. Asher followed, as did most of the crowd. He hustled to get in front of her.
“I owe you a debt, now,” Asher said. “A mighty big one. What is it you’re doing here? What is it you want?”
Jane struggled to hold back tears as she met his eyes.
“My people came through here a few months back, with my little girl. All I want is to find them.” She nodded toward the soldier. “I think that fella may know something about where they went.”
Asher turned his gaze to the soldier, who startled back.
“We gonna do this the hard way, or you gonna tell this lady everything you know?” Asher asked.
“They asked the way to Las Cruces, that’s all I know,” the soldier said in a rush. From the fear pulling his eyes wide, there was little doubt he was telling the truth.
Jane dropped her gaucho hat in the dirt and let the borrowed duster fall to the ground. She stood naked in the middle of the road, staring over the hilltops to the west, where bright stars sparkled against the indigo sky.
I’m so sorry, my beautiful girl.
It’s okay, Momma.
Can you hang on just a little longer?
Yes, Momma, I think I can.
Scales sprouted from Jane’s skin. Toenails grew into talons. The ground receded in her view, the
crowd gasping and backing away as she gained her full height.
Jane leapt into the air and beat her wings, picking up speed until the ground below became a blur.
I will find you soon. I promise.
Dark Fall
David Weber
•I•
Hear now my song and weep.
Hear of the blackness of Dark Fall,
Of death, dust, destruction of all.
Hear now of terror on night-black wings,
Of heartbreak and horror—the end of all things,
Of destruction below and death from the sky
On the day human history died.
—The Dark Fall Saga
* * * * * * * * * *
Navigation Deck
Generation Ship Calvin’s Hope
March 552 Post Diaspora
“It’s confirmed,” the leaden voice said in Vincent Anderson’s headphones. “No way. The damage at ground level is even worse than we expected. We’d need three times the resources we’ve got to establish even a temporary foothold down here. And it’s still getting worse.”
“Understood,” Anderson said. He drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Come on back up. Looks like we’re going to have to come up with something brilliant.”
“Lots of luck with that,” the voice said harshly. Then there was a pause, and Anderson visualized the owner of that voice drawing her own deep breath. “I’m calling in the survey parties now. We should be back aboard in a few hours.”
“Good.” Anderson’s voice was soft. “I need you, Trish.”
“I know, Babe. See you soon.”
Anderson killed the circuit and pushed off against the captain’s chair to send himself across the nav deck to the main visual display. The command section, like the engineering core, was outside the spin section, and he’d always loved the microgravity. It made him feel lighter than air, with a buoyancy that went beyond the merely physical as he floated here, watching the endless stars recede into infinity.
But not today, he thought. Not today.
It was late in Calvin’s Hope’s day, and he’d decided to take the watch by himself. It wasn’t as if the nav deck needed manning, and the truly critical parts of the huge ship’s infrastructure had always been managed from Engineering and Environmental. But there’d been someone here—usually only a single someone, admittedly, but someone—every day for the last three and a half centuries.