Smuggler Queen

by Tim C. Taylor

  “No, ma’am. That was how you would have spoken to him. One last question, are we to prevent Mrs. Zi’Alfu from boarding?”

  Izza looked behind her at the woman in the Elder Sun Transport ship suit. The rejuve hadn’t just smoothed wrinkles. Creyoh smiled back sweetly with no sign of exertion as she jogged along briskly.

  “On the contrary, Sinofar. Ensure she does board. Mrs. Zi’Alfu has some explaining to do.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 9: Izza Zan Fey

  Kryzabik

  Phantom flew east across the Taidyung Mountains, hugging the valley floor through the Sylung Gap, then shot out into the plains of Kadeja Province, startling a herd of six-legged herbivores walking along the north bank of the Jescall-Red River.

  They scattered in panic, many splashing down the muddy bank into the wide Jescall-Red, where they swam for the far shore.

  Long jaws, crammed with teeth, emerged from the water. They clamped to the necks of the swimming herbivores, dragging them down to their doom.

  Izza mouthed, “Sorry,” and added altitude.

  For once, she wasn’t trying to fly under the radar, expecting the missile lock alarm to blare at any moment. She just wanted to fly low to enjoy the scenery.

  “They’re called wildebeests,” explained Zi’Alfu from the seat behind Izza’s pilot station. “An early human explorer thought they resembled an animal she’d never seen that once lived on a planet she’d also never seen. Tourists used to come and watch their migration from a respectful distance.”

  “They looked all right to me,” said Izza. “Before I spooked some into a watery death.”

  “Herd numbers have halved in five years. Turn south.”

  Izza handed control over to her copilot and allowed Green Fish to bank right while she took a good look through the lower quadrant of the cockpit glass at the ground passing below.

  The prairie on the south bank of the Jescall-Red gave way to glistening wetland. The horizon shimmered and revealed itself to be a watercourse of some kind. Strange. It wasn’t on the map.

  “Take her up to ten thousand feet,” she ordered.

  As Phantom climbed, they saw they were flying toward a major lake.

  “It’s a hundred klicks across,” Zi’Alfu explained. “Officially, this is waterlogged ground from recent rains. Unofficially, we call this the Great Sludge Pool.”

  “Is this runoff from the mines?” Green Fish asked.

  “Untreated runoff. Yes. South of here, I could show you agriculture failing and communities dying. You won’t see that properly from the air, but if we land, you would see birth defects, cancers, bone mutation.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Izza.

  “In that case, it clearly is. Open your comms, Zan Fey. I need to make a call. It’s to the only friend who stood by me, Mrs. Sregsboone.”

  Izza released the comms, and Zi’Alfu called a local address.

  A Zhoogene woman appeared in the holo-display, hunched a little but with an upbeat smile. She was in her kitchen and had just taken something out of the auto-chef.

  “Creyoh! I was so worried. I heard Kontesmo and her troublemakers had shown up at your place to…I don’t like to think what they intended. But you look well. Are you?”

  “I’m fine. They came to kill me, didn’t they? You can tell me the truth.”

  But Mrs. Sregsboone wasn’t interested in telling what had happened at Zi’Alfu’s house. She was too busy peering into the camera. “Is that your daughter-in-law, Creyoh? My, my! You told me she had pretty eyes, but I had no idea. I thought you were just boasting about her again.”

  “Like I would ever have a reason to boast about that degenerate article my son married. Although, I’ll admit, she has been somewhat helpful in the last couple of days. Haven’t you, dear?”

  Izza couldn’t reply. All she could do was stare at Sregsboone. Arms, throat, face…her dress left plenty of skin exposed. Half was a sickly pale green, like cut foliage left out to dry in the sun. The rest of her skin was mottled in shades of rust and brick dust.

  Izza prided herself on her own unique style to go with her exclusive physique. According to conventional ideals of beauty, she was a damned freak. But she was proud of her skin. To a Zhoogene woman, lush, verdant skin was her most prized asset, and she was no exception.

  She’d never even heard of a Zhoogene with rust skin. Even accounting for the yellow tint of the holo-comm, this woman looked ill.

  “Are you all right, dear?” asked the old Zhoogene. “You look a little…pale.”

  Izza turned her head. Too slow…she vomited over the flight console.

  Lynx would complain when she ordered him to clean up the mess. She didn’t blame him.

  This planet had another kind of mess that needed cleaning up. That was her task.

  “Mrs. Sregsboone,” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Forgive me for the directness of my question, but was your skin always this color?”

  The woman stiffened her back and took on a defiant expression. “The doctors say my condition is caused by overactive photoreceptors. But that’s double-bubble speak from people in the pay of the mining company. Before the Great Sludge Pool, my skin was green as a lancekin fruit. I was quite the beauty in my youth.”

  “I’m sure you were, Mrs. Sregsboone. And you still carry yourself with grace and dignity. It’s an honor to meet you. Good day, ma’am.”

  “Where’s your briefing room?” asked Zi’Alfu once her friend’s holo-image had gone.

  That stumped Izza for a few moments. She normally discussed things with Fitz on the flight deck or in bed. If the crew were involved, they would crowd into the mess room.

  She released her harness. “Green Fish, holler if you have the slightest concern. I’ll be with Mrs. Zi’Alfu in the lounge.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 10: Izza Zan Fey

  From the to-die-for comfort of the auto-molding silk floor cushions, the two women watched the smoke rising from the firepit in the middle of Phantom’s lounge.

  The plume of particulates coalesced into the words of a newsfeed headline.

  MUTANT DENIES CAUSING CRIMINAL DAMAGE AT MINING SITE

  Of course, it wasn’t really a fireplace—although it could throw out convincing fire-like flows of hot air convection—and the smoke created by the fancy holo-projection wasn’t real either.

  Skragging expensive. That’s what it really was.

  The newsfeed headline. According to Zi’Alfu, that was real too.

  A tap on Zi’Alfu’s slate and the smoke blurred back into a random plume before firming into new words.

  CREYOH ZI’ALFU—NOTORIOUS MUTANT EXPERTS CLAIM CAN HACK MINDS—SPREADS NEW SLURS ABOUT GLIAR-G MINING

  “I think I get the picture,” said Izza. “You caused a stink by pointing out that these off-worlders were screwing with your home. They fought back.”

  “I had just celebrated my ninetieth birthday when I decided to take them on. To my shame, I was naïve enough to think that if you pressed hard enough, then a hundred-klick wide pool of toxic sludge was the kind of thing whose existence couldn’t be denied. I was wrong. They had bought off Danieff Caoji, our assclown of a provincial governor. They also bought the Elder Sun Militia commander, which meant the planetary government wouldn’t touch it. A local issue, they insisted.”

  KADEJA SENATE DISMISSES AS ‘HOAX’ CLAIMS OF ENVIRONMENTAL CATASTROPHE SPREAD BY NOTORIOUS MUTANT

  “Mutant!” Izza shook her head sadly. “Do they put that on every headline?”

  “Mostly. It makes it clear which side their consumers are meant to hate. Then there are the other articles that teach people to fear our kind, which suddenly became popular with the newsfeeds. They can publish what they want. We’re mutants, Izza, you and I. We’re not a protected group. If we were, the skraggs who printed this slander would be hauled off for a long stay in a reeducation camp.”

  “All this! Just because our eyes ar
e a different color. Why do these people hate us so much?”

  “Are you kidding?” Zi’Alfu rose half out of her cushion and gave Izza a look of disgust. “When this business is over, Zan Fey, we’re doing the talk.”

  “Never mind me. What did you do about these slurs?”

  “Played Gliar-G Mining at their own game.”

  “You sold your story to the news outlets?”

  “Azhanti! You’re more naïve than I ever was. No. Gliar-G persuaded Governor Caoji to look the other way. Well, I un-persuaded him. He claims to have suffered abduction, blackmail, and torture.” Zi’Alfu tutted. “Torture! Goodness me! I’m sure we’ve both experienced real torture, Izza. I merely tickled him. In any case, after I spent a little time with him, he suddenly noticed the enormous sludge lake poisoning his province.”

  She flicked to another headline.

  HAS HE BEEN A NAUGHTY BOY? GOVERNOR CAOJI DENIES BEING IN THRALL TO MUTANT SEDUCTRESS TWICE HIS AGE

  “So Gliar-G changed tactics. They whipped up the hate against me even more and faked footage that showed I’d been best pals with Governor Caoji for years. It didn’t take long for Caoji to be recalled and imprisoned. Then they came for me. That was when you arrived like a green bolt out of the blue.”

  Tears rolled down Zi’Alfu’s face. Izza felt completely out of her depth. She had no idea whether she should comfort the other woman, or how.

  “Gliar-G used my neighbors to take me out. Bertinika Kontesmo and her Auxiliary Volunteers were coming for me when you called. They always were a bunch of drenthead asswipes, but they were still my neighbors. And the bulk of my community? They didn’t try running me out of town, but they didn’t lift a finger to stop Kontesmo either. I was a pariah.”

  Izza regarded her mother-in-law, giving her a few moments to let her emotions vent.

  If you saw her across the street, she would seem an unremarkable human female. Middling height, weight, and apparent age, with a skin tone of one of the lighter brown shades for a human, though average for a female.

  This was one of the things Izza found most perverse about humanity. She’d learned in school that skin pigmentation cells were about fifteen percent less concentrated in human females than males, whereas in her species, women enjoyed a deeper shade of green by about the same amount.

  Up close, Creyoh Zi’Alfu had peculiar features that were largely unblemished and wrinkle free, and yet her skin lacked the tautness of youth. Her ears were oversized as was the lower part of her nose. Subtle signs of rejuvenation treatments. Good ones. The kind only the richest had access to.

  What had turned this rich old woman with a shady past into an environmental crusader? “What’s in it for you?”

  “Oh, I get it.” Zi’Alfu assumed a pained expression. “Been listening to my son poisoning your mind. I’m not the bad person he makes me out to be.”

  “You did steal his first ship when he was still a teenager. Stripped his credit accounts dry.”

  “We’ve already had that conversation, Zan Fey. It was responsible parenting. The kind he wasn’t getting from his father, who was all space battles and shiny Legion hoorah. One of his parents had to teach him about real life.”

  “Teach him what? Not to trust the people close to him?”

  “He’s always trusted you more than me,” Zi’Alfu spluttered. “I don’t know why you feel so threatened.”

  “I don’t. It’s your son who has the trust issues.”

  “How would you know? I don’t see him here on your fancy ship. That nice young man with the wings said my boy had been forced to walk the plank. By you, Zan Fey. And you say you don’t have trust issues!”

  “It’s not about me.”

  “No. Then why the hell are you here in the Elder Sun system at all?”

  Izza sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the moment. She’d just outsmarted her mother-in-law. Or so she hoped. “I’ll answer your question,” she told Zi’Alfu, “if you answer mine first. Why are you doing this…this environmentalist act?”

  The older woman returned a sly look that made Izza question who’d just outsmarted whom. “I’ve had the rejuves. I look a peach. Run ten klicks before breakfast every other day too. But my mind feels every one of its ninety-two standard. I finally needed to put down roots, and I’ve planted them here. It’s my community that’s been screwed by Gliar-G. And they deserve better. Even Kontesmo and the other arse-skraggs who turned against me.” She smiled. “Your turn, dear.”

  Izza took the slate and brought up the image Fitz had passed to her of Khallini. Digital compression of the image made him look scratchy, but she recognized the man with the brass-tipped cane they’d transported to Rho-Torkis. Would Zi’Alfu? She studied her mother-in-law’s face for a reaction.

  Zi’Alfu gave nothing away.

  “Do you know him?” Izza asked. “Perhaps when you were young. His name is Khallini.”

  “You mean the infamous Lord Khallini?” She laughed. “He’s a puny specimen in the flesh, isn’t he? Looks like a Spacer. I don’t mean like you—prancing around in a glossy spaceship thinking it makes you glamorous—I mean the original Spacers. Bioengineered humans from the Orion Era.”

  “I thought that was just a fable.”

  “Nope. Humans came here in two main flavors. Marines were powerful, aggressive, permanently horny, and AI-jacked. Then there were the Spacers, runts who were economical at consuming air, water, food, and space aboard starships, but whose minds were sharp. There were also Wolves, Earthborn, and, among other sub-groups were Marines with purple eyes. Our ancestors. This man is a Spacer.”

  “Do you recognize him? Could you have met him?”

  “Cheeky green madam! I’m old but not that old. It’s 3,000 years since the Exiles showed up in the Perseus Arm.”

  “Are you saying this person was born in the Orion Spur? Thousands of years ago?”

  “No. I said he is a Spacer. They crewed the Exile ships and started interbreeding once they got here. A group of them might have gone for the preserving genetic purity game. People could have been stuck in suspended animation for a long time. You always get a few genetic throwbacks. Or maybe someone out there in the Federation is re-engineering the old races of humanity. Who knows? It’s a freaking weird galaxy. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  “Cryo seems the most likely,” said Izza. “I’ve heard of people sleeping for centuries. Maybe some people could be under for thousands of years and still live.”

  “No. This man hasn’t been asleep. He’s been around all this time. This person came with the Exile fleet. He was there at First Landing.”

  “That’s impossible.” Izza shot a confused look at Zi’Alfu.

  “I know.” Zi’Alfu gave an excited grin, her eyes glowing with blues and purples.

  “I’m not in the mood for your damned games.” Izza swiped Khallini from the holo. “If it’s impossible this man was born in the Orion Spur, then why tell me he was?”

  The grin crumbled, and Zi’Alfu looked the most uncomfortable Izza had ever seen her. “Instinct.”

  Instinct. It was the same word Fitz had used to explain why she needed to come here in the first place.

  “Your husband has these gut feelings, doesn’t he?” said Zi’Alfu. “Insists on a course of action that makes no sense. I expect he begs you to trust him. Reluctantly, you let him sway you. At first, you curse yourself for believing his steaming shite, because his instincts appear to be nonsense. But, by long and tortuous routes, he’s always and annoyingly proved right. Every time.”

  A chill came over Izza. Her deepest secrets were being clinically dissected. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Trust our instincts. They’re based on precognition. It’s your heritage too, Izza.” Zi’Alfu couldn’t hold her gaze and looked away. “It’s a curse when you can see the secrets of the universe but are powerless to act on what you know. Looks like I’m a refugee now, my dear. How nice to finally be with my family in the twilight of my years.”

 
; The prospect shocked Izza into landing an idea. “Powerless? Who said we’re powerless? We fight Gliar-G’s slurs with our own. Looks like I’ll have to kiss Khallini on his bald head next time I see him because he’s just given me eighty million reasons for the people of Kryzabik to believe our lies over theirs.”

  She wondered how Fitz would react to her blowing all their money on his mother. Credits they’d earned to pay back Nyluga-Ree for good. She smiled. “Fitz will understand.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11: Izza Zan Fey

  Kadeja Independent News Offices, Kadeja City, Kryzabik

  Fitz sometimes said Justiana Fregg was a beautiful woman who was more alluring because she didn’t know it.

  But then Fitz was forever spouting crap in that vein, so Izza had always dismissed his words as a clumsy attempt to find something nice to say about Phantom’s scruffy logistics manager.

  Fregg was taking point on this mission. And for that, Izza had ordered her to be cleaned, coiffed, and clothed at the system capital on the other side of the planet. Finished off with some of Izza’s jewelry Fitz had given her, Fregg exuded elegance and wealth.

  Izza would not have thought such a thing was possible.

  To a Zhoogene, beauty was primarily about verdant skin and tantalizing scent. Fregg smelled like a concrete slaughterhouse freshly hosed down with chemical cleaner. But she had the visuals nailed the way humans liked them.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Fregg told the owner of Kadeja Independent News, extending a hand to the man.

  Izza cringed. Fregg had walked into the HQ of the local news outlet as if she already owned the place. But when she spoke, she sounded as if she’d been born and raised in a space dock. Which, of course, she had.

  But Yanzeung, the owner of KIN, rose smiling from his chair to shake her hand. “My pleasure, Ms. Fregg.”