“That’s right, boys. And I’m as dedicated to success as Talina.”
Dek trotted across the root mat—heedless of the way it squirmed in protest—and tackled the next head-high tangle of barrel-thick roots. Scrambling to the top, he caught the faint scent of balsam as an eddy stirred.
“Close,” Rocket almost shrilled.
Dek stopped short just below the crest of interlocked roots. Flipped the safety off. His heart began to hammer in his chest, adrenaline charging his muscles. That full-body tingle—called buck fever—ran through his muscles and blood.
“Show time, boys,” he said as forced himself to peer over the edge, the rifle at the ready.
The real thing was one hell of a lot more intimidating than that hazy image in quetzal memory. The monster might have been twenty meters in length. It didn’t have legs as such but was propelled by double lines of paddles on either side of its belly. A third line—like fins—ran down the length of its back. A stalk-topped eye swiveled around, fixing full on Dek. The thing stopped halfway up the root ball across the flat.
“Pus in a bucket,” Dek whispered. Made himself clamber over the top of the roots when every sensible nerve in his body was screaming, “Shoot!”
Trembling, his mouth dry, Dek carefully felt his way down the root tangle, rifle at the ready.
“Just like Tyson Station,” he told himself. “If you can take out a drone with a snap shot, you can kill this thing.”
That didn’t mean that now, seeing the size of the beast, he forgot to flip up the velocity to a thousand meters a second and wish he’d loaded a two-hundred-fifty-grain bullet.
“Hey! Monster!” he yelled, more to assert his own flagging courage than to piss the beast off.
It whipped around, rainbow-bright colors flashing on its sides as it did. Damn, it was fast for its size. And Dek got a good look at the thing’s front. Three broad inward-curving blades—each maybe a meter in length and topped with a hook—spread wide. The trio of stalk-like eyes were extended, the bottom one sticking straight out toward him from beneath the creature’s belly. The mouth had three jaws that slid sideways, opening like some perverted iris, to expose a nightmare-fraught maw.
“Okay,” Dek whispered to himself. “Bad idea.”
Too late now. Dek pulled up the rifle and shot just as the thing charged.
75
Through that long and disturbing night, Kalico Aguila hadn’t slept. She’d groused about the fact that when it came to Dek—as Michegan put it—she wasn’t any Talina Perez. She obsessed that, for all intent and purpose, Corporate Mine was shut down, running at idle while make-work was attended to. And then, that morning, the shuttle had come in with the first rotation from PA after the cave-in. Corporal Abu Sassi had informed her that Tadeki Ozawa hadn’t bothered to make the return trip, that Makarov had held the shuttle an additional fifteen minutes, and the man had failed to show.
A quick radio call to Two Spot had assured her that Tadeki hadn’t been admitted to hospital, hadn’t run afoul of PA security, or showed up in any way, manner, or form on their radar. That was either good or bad. Maybe the guy was dead in an alley, or he’d wandered out past the gate and been eaten by a quetzal, or maybe he’d deserted. No one had deserted Corporate Mine in years.
So, what am I going to do?
She had standing orders that deserters would be shot. Old orders that hadn’t been needed in years.
“So, do I shoot Tadeki? The guy just lost his wife and unborn child.” Shit on a shoe, that would make good press. “Supervisor murders grief-stricken man mourning the death of all that he loved.”
Needing to get the hell out of Corporate Mine, she’d briefed Ghosh, accessed her com, and ordered, “Makarov, spool up the A-7. I need to go to PA.”
“Roger that, Supervisor.”
“Tadeki is missing,” she’d told everyone. “I’m going to go find him.”
It had made a hell of a good excuse.
So she’d had Makarov run her back to Port Authority. On the way, she’d sat in the cockpit starboard-side passenger seat, one leg up, chewing on a thumbnail as she stared out at the thick carpet of forest and the curve of the Gulf off to the east. From this altitude, she could almost see as far as the Maritime Unit. Almost. As if that tiny dot of white would be visible to her naked eye.
Just thinking of it put her in an even fouler mood.
What the hell was I thinking of? Just walking away from it. Who the hell have I become?
The old Kalico Aguila—the one who’d schemed, scratched, plotted, and fought her way to the top of the heap back in Solar System—would have pulled out her pistol, shot that Gabarron woman dead on the spot, faced down the shocked scientists, and ordered, “Get your damned asses to work. This is not a democracy. And I’ll shoot the next sorry pus-sucker who crosses me.”
Now that was Kalico Aguila.
When, along the way, had that woman morphed into the one who had said, “Fine. Have it your way” and simply washed her hands of the matter?
Even if I’d shot them all, that’s a huge Corporate investment. The equipment alone would refurbish half of PA’s labs. She could trade for all the timbers and spare parts she needed to keep Corporate Mine running for another twenty years.
Mulling on that, she cocked an eyebrow and rubbed the scar running along the line of her jaw. Maybe that was the solution. She could fly out with Abu Sassi, Michegan, and Muldare. While they stood around in their armor, fingered their rifles, and looked mean, she could have Bogarten, Stryski, and their technicians strip the place of anything of value like the microscopes, PCRs, chromatographs, FTIRs, and other equipment.
Wasn’t anything Michaela Hailwood or her people could do about it.
“I’ve been on this damned planet too long,” Kalico grumbled.
“Ma’am?” Makarov asked.
“Juri, how did the shuttles from Ashanti place that Pod out on the reef?”
“Took four heavy-lift birds to lower the pieces from orbit. Pretty precise flying, ma’am. They had to settle the parts just so onto the pilings. A fancy bit of work with the lasers and all to measure distance as the four birds hovered, maneuvered, and put each piece into position.”
“So, it would take four birds to lift it?”
“No, ma’am. They needed four to get it down from orbit. Lowering that much mass into a gravity well, that’s a whole different story than just picking pieces up off the pilings. Once you had the landing pad removed, the UB disconnected. and the inside cleaned out, we could lift the main tube using the Corporate bird and PA’s A-7. That is, if we’re just picking the thing up and moving it somewhere where putting it down isn’t tricky.”
She narrowed an eye. That changed her entire calculus. She could pull the plug, blow the top off a mountain somewhere to expose bedrock, and use the Pod for a base of operations. Maybe on that mountain of palladium down south? And she had more shuttles mothballed up on Freelander.
Besides, who knew? Maybe, with a sick kid, one of the two subs lost, their UUVs vulnerable to the wildlife, and enough people dead, her rebellious Maritime Unit might be more than welcoming of a chance to step back into the fold. There was nothing like a good dose of Donovan to slap a bunch of soft meat back into line.
Time to take a trip back out there, and yes, she’d take a couple of marines with her. Michaela Hailwood’s people would be ready to listen to reason, one way or another.
That solved, she felt better. That old killer instinct awake in her gut again.
Feeling that way, what did she do about Dek Taglioni?
And there, Kalico, is your real dilemma.
“Think, damn it.” Her finger traced the slick scar along her jaw as she narrowed her eyes. Come on, where was the sly old Kalico? The one who’d played people like chess pieces, seduced, used, and discarded those who could help her on her rise to power? That K
alico should have been able to cunningly cut Talina’s throat while at the same time beguiling Dek, dazzling him, and offering so much more than Tal could possibly . . .
“What the hell are you thinking?” she asked herself angrily.
Makarov said nothing this time, knowing well enough to keep his mouth shut.
This wasn’t a Corporate game, and Dek wasn’t a trophy like some notch on the butt of her pistol.
And that’s the difference. She’d already won the grand prize. For once in her life, she could ask herself, what did Dek Taglioni mean to her? Not for her.
With no political advantage to be gained, no one to be compromised, no strategic value to the relationship, it didn’t even matter that he was a Taglioni. Well, okay, it did. But that was, as Shig would say, cultural baggage. No one on Donovan gave a damn, and she didn’t score any points by it.
Her gaze traveled out across the morning-bright forest, seeing the wealth of trees below; the tops of the various species of aquajade made a turquoise patchwork amidst the darker greens of the chabacho and stone wood. And there were other species down there, trees for which they had no name yet. So much of Donovan beckoned, unknown, unstudied, and uncatalogued.
Do I love the guy?
“Never had the freedom to ask a question like that,” she murmured.
Do I love Derek? There it was. Laid out for her analytical mind to dissect. Fact: She did enjoy the man’s company. He was the only person on the planet that she could talk to about the old days. Being a Taglioni, Dek understood her worldview, and shared that same cultural zeitgeist. They functioned under the same rules. And that proved comfortable for both of them.
But is that love? Fact: The lingering memory of that odious old Derek Taglioni remained fresh in her memory, constantly a reminder of who he had been. Who he might become again at any moment. Did a leopard ever change its spots? This Derek Taglioni wore the same skin as the drunken one in the Solar Elan Hotel ballroom who’d loudly and very publicly speculated on Kalico’s lingual dexterity when it came to sucking Miko’s cock.
Had that vile lout been entirely buried by the man who’d given her his last energy bar, and then struggled to get her up that forbidding cliff back at Tyson Station? The man who’d shot the drone that was diving to kill her? And who still had a healing scar in his cheek from a bit of shrapnel blown out of the bomb it carried?
She did look forward to seeing him. Enjoyed the meals they shared, the talks they engaged in at Inga’s over a glass of whiskey. And she found amusement and appreciation in Dek’s recounting of his adventures in the bush, his enthusiasm for Donovan’s wilds, and the pride he derived from his claim and the wealth it produced.
But do I want him as my mate?
She was, after all, a healthy and long-too-celibate woman. Sexual relations had been a large part of her life back in Solar System. Since she’d set foot onto Turalon all those years ago, she had had no one of her station with whom to consort. Had Dek made the right overtures, she probably would have taken him to her bed. He was trained as all Taglionis were, so no doubt it would have been rewarding.
Occasional sex was a whole different thing than making a full-time commitment. Problem was, she did get lonely. Just like this morning. She needed to get the hell out of Corporate Mine. If Dek were around, he would offer the right encouragement. Help her keep things in perspective. A Board Supervisor and a Taglioni, they talked and thought the same.
“Be best if I could just file him away. Take him out when I needed him. Then put him back when I’ve finished with whatever,” she whispered softly.
Ah, yes. Just have him on call.
That, my dearest Kalico, doesn’t bode well for Dek as a mate.
So why her constant obsession over Dek and Talina? Together? Just over at Two Falls Gap? How the hell had Talina gotten the inside track? What exactly had happened that day at Dek’s claim? Outside of a quetzal infection, what did the two of them possibly have in common? What did they have to talk about? Certainly not the menu at Tiboronne, or the view from Three Spires back in Transluna.
“You’re not Talina Perez,” Dina Michegan’s voice mocked.
Should she order Makarov to change course, drop her at Two Falls Gap? And . . . .what?
“Think,” she told herself. “Be analytical. What you do now will be for high-value stakes.” That old cold and calculating Kalico clicked into place. Laid out from a strategic perspective, was seducing Dek and making him hers worth alienating Talina? Love triangles were always tricky business. And, God knows, she’d used them with ruthless efficiency against adversaries back in Solar System. She knew exactly how to manipulate, exploit, and weaponize a sexual relationship. Unlike back in Solar System, there would be long-term consequences. In the aftermath, the ramifications of dumping Dek would be legion—assuming she tired of him or the loathsome Dek resurfaced. Hell, she might even have to assassinate him if he turned out to be a real pain in the ass.
Additionally, making an enemy out of Talina Perez would be sheer idiocy on so many levels.
Question: Is Dek worth more to me than my relationship with Talina?
Kalico laughed at herself. Cold analytics aside, Talina—for all of her differences with Kalico—had become a trusted friend. Friend? When had that ever mattered? Whatever trouble Kalico might ever get herself into, Talina would be there. Just as she’d been outside of Tyson Station.
“Just like I’d be there for her,” Kalico whispered, seeing the horizon drop away as the shuttle began its bank toward Port Authority.
So much for the cold and analytical Kalico Aguila.
And Dek’s infected with quetzal TriNA. I don’t even know what or who he’s going to be coming out of this.
That left Kalico facing the distinct reality that Dek and Tal might return from Two Falls Gap as an inseparable couple. If not as starry-eyed lovers, at least sharing each other’s bed, their lives inextricably joined.
So, how are you going to deal with that? Jealous as you feel now?
Deceleration pushed Kalico deeper into her seat as the shuttle descended toward Port Authority, the bush seeming to rise to meet her.
“This is nothing you can’t handle,” she told herself, locking that old analytic self into play. She was, after all, Kalico Aguila. The woman who’d made her way up to Board Supervisor by means of her wits, self-control, ultimate pragmatism, and sheer implacable intelligence.
She allowed herself a sigh of relief. The Dek problem taken care of, all she had to do was deal with the Maritime Unit, and then get her mine back on its feet.
Kalico congratulated herself as Makarov settled the big A-7 onto the heat-glazed dirt at Port Authority’s field.
Before she looked up Shig to dicker over the rental of PA’s A-7, she hoped Inga would have something savory for breakfast. Then she could tackle the next problem.
Too bad that not everything had as simple a solution as just denying one’s heart.
76
Talina ducked wide around a gotcha vine. This was some lowland variety she’d never seen before. The thorns were longer, the leaves almost those of a succulent versus the thinner ones from inland and up north.
“Damn you, Dek,” she whispered, following along the trail he’d left.
What the hell was she going to do with him? She’d awakened that morning to an empty bed when all she wanted to do was wrap herself around him and enjoy delicious sex. Instead of grabbing Dek and dragging him back to the mattress for refreshing bed play, she’d walked out to the kitchen to find breakfast simmering on the stove, a pot of tea steaming, and a note.
Tal:
I’ve gone to the forest under the escarpment to deal with Demon. Since I can’t put a Mayan bowl back together, I have to win or lose this as a Taglioni.
You are the love of my heart.
Dek.
She’d panicked, turned off th
e stove, ran for her clothes, and was dressed and out of the dome in minutes.
She’d found his tracks in the trail that led to the edge of the falls and backtracked to the narrow gap. Didn’t matter that she knew the route now; on the climb down she’d almost fallen to her death—and worse, ended up in the tangle of deadly vines that filled the bottom.
But there, beneath the falls, she’d found Dek’s tracks. He’d been headed downriver.
As she hurried along at a trot, heedless of bruising the roots she trod on, Talina ground her teeth.
Dek, you idiot! You’ve got nothing to prove to me.
She’d been slowly but surely falling for the guy. And it wasn’t just the remarkable sex. The man had a sense of humor, one sharpened and made wry by trial and testing. To her surprise, Dek Taglioni had turned out to be somewhat like Shig in that he’d seen all sides of life and had found peace with the vagaries of existence. She’d never spent time with a man who was as sure of himself when faced with his own ignorance, one who just accepted that he was going to have to learn in the most efficient way possible. And he did it with a complete lack of ego. Except when it counted. Like now. When whatever insanity had led him to charge out into the lowland forest—a place no one had even explored—to face who knew what kind of danger.
She had never known a man of such complexity—let alone one who seemed to deal with all of it in such a holistic way.
“I was a monster,” he had told her. “Once I figured that out, I decided I didn’t like myself. Since I’d been trained to be that way, I realized I could train myself to live another way.”
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