by John Bowers
“Goddammit!”
Rage welled up in his chest, along with unaccountable fear. What the hell was going on around here? Since when was it illegal to sell a serf girl to the Texiana slavers? His dad had been doing it for years, making a few extra sirios now and then, and no one had ever said a word about it. Then Ron Gates had taken over the U.F. Marshal office and started asking questions; it had become necessary to keep a low profile, but nothing had really changed.
Then somebody had killed Gates, so the heat was off…
…until the new guy showed up.
Bastard!
Joel brushed dirt off his face and looked around. What the hell did he do now? Slim was dead, he was pretty sure—Joel had been only a few yards away when Nathan Green had shot him—so he couldn’t go back to the cotton fields and pretend nothing had happened. Suddenly he felt like a fugitive, with no place to run. His dad couldn’t help him because he was already under arrest for trafficking, and he doubted that Mr. Kline, though he might be sympathetic, would help, either. If Kline defied the Federation authorities they could shut him down, and he wouldn’t risk that just for the son of an indicted foreman.
Joel crawled into the pickup and closed the door to keep the sand out. Tears leaked down his cheeks. Which way did he go? Where did he hide? Green and Walker had seen the pickup, so he would have to abandon it once he got back to civilization.
He opened his porta-phone and called his dad’s number. Gerald Graves answered and Joel, fighting back sobs, explained his situation. His dad was quiet for a long time. Joel felt his isolation deepen.
“Dad? What am I gonna do?”
“I can’t help you, Joel,” his dad said slowly. “I’m already up to my eyeballs in shit. But don’t panic.”
“Don’t panic! Dad, they know who I am!”
“Just keep your shirt on. How much fuel you got?”
“I dunno. Half a tank, maybe.”
“All right, that should be enough. You head north into Texiana, and don’t come back until this is over. Somebody’s gonna have to take care of that marshal, but you stay away until they do.”
Joel’s fear turned to desperation.
“Dad, I don’t know anybody in Texiana!”
“I’m not finished talking, Joel! Listen to me! Once you cross the Texiana border, you keep going all the way to New Dallas. When you get there, look up a man named Harry Reed. He’s the man who owns that transport. You tell him who you are and what happened. Tell him about Marshal Walker. He’ll take care of you, and he’ll take care of Walker too.”
Joel wiped the mud off his cheeks and felt a little better.
“Did you hear me?” Gerald Graves demanded.
“Yeah. I got it. How do I find Harry Reed?”
“Go to the State House in New Dallas and ask anybody. He’s a member of the Texiana Parliament.”
Joel nodded, hope returning slowly.
“Okay, I got it. Thanks, Dad.”
“Just remember, my ass is on the line too. You get to Harry Reed and he’ll take care of both of us.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
Joel disconnected and started the pickup. He made a U-turn and headed north into the dust storm.
* * *
The wind had finally stopped by the time the hovervan reached Kline Corners. Nick sat weakly in a seat behind Nathan, his arm throbbing and burning at the same time; the girl, who said her name was Lupe, sat beside him. He would have much preferred to return after dark, park the van in an alley, and unload the women when they couldn’t be easily seen. But Nathan had assured him that Sirian Summer had arrived. There might be one or two hours of darkness over the next couple of days, but then it would be six or seven weeks before night fell again. A covert arrival was impossible.
Nick had counted thirty-one women in the cages behind him, about half of them teenagers. He hadn’t released them yet because in their present state they might do something irrational. Nathan had his hands full piloting the vehicle and Nick was at less than a hundred percent physically. The big question in his mind was what to do with the captives when they arrived. For the first time, he really wished he wasn’t the only Federation officer within a thousand miles.
“What about Sheriff Blake?” he asked Nathan as they discussed the dilemma. “Do we dare trust him?”
Nathan shrugged. “He’ll do whatever Mr. Kline wants him to do. And I don’t know how Mr. Kline will react to all this.”
Nick felt his heart sink. Never mind Mr. Kline, he thought—what about Willis Kline? Nathan had killed one of his workers, and he was already angry at the boy over the incident with Kristina.
The situation was getting more complicated by the minute.
Nick called Dr. Taylor on his porta-phone and told her he was headed to her office. Although surprised, she took the information in stride and promised to help out.
As they approached the settlement, Nick told Nathan to leave the main highway and come in from the south, to avoid curious eyes on Main Street. Nathan did so and set the van down in the alley behind the doctor’s residence.
The next couple of hours were pandemonium. Thirty-two frightened kidnap victims filled Dr. Taylor’s combined office/residence, all of them asking questions and voicing their fears. The six girls Nick had rescued from the Outback helped calm them, telling their own stories and assuring them that everything would work out.
Dr. Taylor treated Nick’s wound and urged him to spend two or three days in bed, something he simply could not reasonably do.
“You aren’t going to be able to help anyone if that arm gets infected,” she told him when he protested. “You’re suffering a mild shock, and if you don’t take care of yourself you could get a lot worse. You really should be in a hospital.”
Nick sighed, relieved that the painkiller she’d given him had numbed the arm again.
“I know,” he said, “but there’s too much to do, and I’m the only one who can do it. I don’t have a partner, or any backup.”
She relented slightly. “I understand that. But keep it to a minimum. This town needs you, so don’t do anything stupid.”
“I have four dead men outside,” Nick told her. “Does Kline Corners have a morgue?”
“In the basement,” Alice Taylor replied. “I double as the coroner for the area. The freezers will keep them until Sirian Summer is over. Will they need autopsies?”
“No. They were all killed by laser pistol. The cause of death isn’t in question. I’m going to need time to identify some of them and see what else I can learn, but it will have to wait.”
Nick was too weak to help, so Nathan and Dr. Taylor transferred the bodies into the basement, where each went into a freezer drawer to await further processing. That done, Nick and Nathan moved the hovervan across Main Street and parked it behind the hotel—if the slavers located it behind the doctor’s office, it would give them the location of the slave women. By then, Nick’s energy was largely spent. His arm riding in a sling, he and Nathan walked down Main Street to the Vega.
“Christ, it’s hot!” Nick gasped. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven. It’s only ninety-nine degrees right now. It won’t get any cooler until Sirius B sets. Then, in an hour or two, A will be back, and it’ll start to climb again.”
“I’m starting to see what all the hype is about.”
Nathan shook his head. “Not yet. Wait two weeks, then you’ll know.”
Nick wiped sweat off his forehead. He’d left his cowboy hat in the rental when he first arrived at the intersection. Now, for the first time, he really missed it.
The Vega was virtually empty. But the interior was cool and dim, the faint aroma of incense comforting. Nick hardly felt up to balancing on a hover stool, so he took a table by the window. Nathan settled in across from him and rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. After a moment, he began to tremble.
“Let’s keep our story straight,” Nick told him quietly. “We brought four dead m
en back and I killed all of them. Got that?”
Nathan met his gaze, his own eyes haunted. “Isn’t that perjury?”
“This is only for public consumption. My report will have the true facts, but you don’t need the Klines breathing down your neck over shooting that pervert.”
Suzanne Norgaard arrived at their table then, a frown across her lovely brow.
“What happened to you, Nick? Break your arm?”
Nick shook his head. “Shot through and through.”
“What!” Suzanne pulled up a chair. “What happened?”
Nick gave her a thumbnail of the day’s events, leaving out several details. By the time he finished, Kristina had arrived and slid onto the chair next to Nathan, putting her arms around him.
“Are you okay?” she demanded. “You look like you’re in shock.”
He managed a smile. “I’ve never been that scared before,” he said.
“Nathan saved my life,” Nick told them. “If he hadn’t shown up when he did, I’d still be out there, probably dead from blood loss. And those women would still be slaves.”
Kristina’s clear green eyes gleamed in admiration as she looked at Nathan, and she kissed him full on the lips, whether her mother liked it or not.
“So what can we get you?” Suzanne asked. “Do you feel like eating?”
“I need a lot of cold water,” Nick sighed. “And maybe a bowl of soup. I’m not as hungry as I ought to be.”
“Me too,” Nathan said. “Only I’ll have a beef sandwich, too.”
Suzanne nodded and started to turn away.
“And a slice of cherry pie,” Nathan added. “And some ice cream.”
“Goddess Sophia!” Suzanne looked back at him in amusement. “I hope you get to feeling better soon.”
For the first time all day, Nick laughed out loud.
“Has Mr. Kline been in yet?” Nick asked when Suzanne placed his soup before him.
“Not since this morning. When the weather hits he sometimes skips coming into town. Too busy.”
“Can you get in touch with him? I need to talk to him.”
“You want him to come here? Tonight?”
Nick nodded, glancing outside at the irony of “tonight”—the sky was bright and white. “Yeah. Police business. Tell him to bring Roy Blake with him.”
Suzanne’s eyes widened a fraction, but she nodded and turned away. Kristina brought Nathan’s soup and sandwich, and started to sit down next to him.
“Kristina, can you run next door and tell Mr. Green that Nathan is back? I imagine he’ll be starting to worry by now.”
Nathan looked up, his expression stricken.
“Shit! I forgot about that! He’s going to be mad as hell at me!”
Nick glanced at Kristina. “Ask Mr. Green to come over, will you? I’ll explain everything to him.”
The girl nodded with a smile and hurried out the door. Nathan sucked down half a glass of ice water and sighed.
“I still can’t believe all of this is real,” he said. “You do this sort of thing all the time?”
“No. Most of the time the job is boring. Just routine stuff, like data work, talking to people, filing reports. Today was an exception.”
He spooned soup into his mouth, took a bite of cracker, and looked up.
“You ever think about going into law enforcement?”
Nathan’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Me?”
“Why not?”
The boy thought for a moment, then shrugged.
“I hadn’t thought about it. Don’t you have to be university trained?”
“I’m not. Four years in the Star Marines and two at the U. F. Marshal Academy, and here I am.”
“Academy. Sounds expensive.”
“Didn’t cost me a terro. If the Academy accepts you, you get a Federation grant for tuition. The only gotcha is a ten-year career commitment. I had nothing else waiting so that was no problem. In six more years that’ll be behind me and I can do anything I want.”
“What are you gonna do then?”
“Be a U.F. Marshal.” Nick grinned. “Think about it, Nathan. It’ll get you out of Kline Corners and off Sirius. You’ll get to see Terra and several other worlds. And you can take Kristina with you.”
Nathan stared at him as if he’d suggested star-jacking a passenger liner.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“I just—I don’t know, it just—seems so impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. The Academy could open up vistas you never dreamed of. Not all assignments are like this one, and you don’t even have to be a Marshal. You have a choice of six or seven different fields. Think about it.”
“How old do you have to be?”
“Eighteen, but if you wait a few years your chances improve. The Academy looks for maturity. They don’t take anyone over thirty, so that gives you twelve years to make it before you’re too old.”
“Is there an entrance exam?”
“Oh, yes, and it’s a galactic bitch. But you’re smart, you’d pass it.”
“What other requirements? Good grades?”
“Helpful, but not essential. Good character references help, and a clean criminal record.”
“Who’s going to give me a character reference in this place?”
“Lots of people. Suzanne’s arm could probably be twisted. Sheriff Blake. Maybe even Willard Kline.”
“He barely knows me.”
Nick shrugged. “There must be a lot of people who do.”
Nathan nodded. “Sure, but they’re just ordinary people. Why should the Academy take their word for it?”
“The entire Federation is made up of ‘ordinary people’, Nathan. They’re the ones who make things happen. Don’t sell them short.”
The boy nodded thoughtfully.
“Anyway, I think the Academy would take the word of a full-time U.F. Marshal, don’t you?”
Nathan looked shocked. “You’d do that for me?”
“Are you kidding? What you did today is far more impressive than passing any entrance exam. I think we could get you in as soon as you turn eighteen.”
Nathan stared out the window, his sandwich forgotten.
“Two years?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Two years is a long time to be away.”
Nick leaned forward.
“Last week you were telling me this is the armpit of the galaxy. What’s changed since then?”
Nathan looked startled.
“Nothing, but…”
“Kristina?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re seventeen now. If you got in next year, you would graduate three years from now. You’ll be twenty, she’ll be nineteen. You’ll be old enough to get married.” Assuming Suzanne Norgaard stands still for it, he didn’t add. “You two can plan your future then, if you want to. And it’s a fairly safe bet you won’t be posted to Kline Corners.”
Nathan’s eyes lingered on Nick’s as his mind processed the information. Finally he blinked.
“When you put it like that, it’s kind of scary.”
Nick nodded. “Life can be that way. But always taking the safe route can be very boring. It’s up to you what you want out of life.” He tipped his water glass. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Just think about it.”
The front door opened and Kristina came in, followed by Dennis Green. He strode toward the corner table with a curious look on his face, a mixture of displeasure and relief. Nick shook hands with him.
“Take a chair, Mr. Green. I’ve got a story to tell that is going to make you very proud.”
For the next ten minutes Nick recounted another slightly abridged version of the day’s events. By the time he finished, Nathan Green was deserving of a Federation Medal of Valor. The boy’s father looked at him as if he were a stranger.
“Hero, huh?”
Nick nodded. “He rescued me, so that makes him a hero in my boo
k.”
Mr. Green nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Well, he wasn’t exactly honest about where he was going. I was starting to worry, but I’m glad it turned out the way it did.”
Green visited with Nick until Nathan had finished eating, then father and son told Nick good night and headed home. Nick pushed his soup bowl away and poured another glass of cold water. The place was suddenly quiet, and he sat thinking about his next move. Suzanne Norgaard interrupted his thoughts when she took the chair Nathan had vacated.
“Mr. Kline will be here in about an hour,” she said. “Did you want anything else to eat?”
“No. I feel all wrung out. I just want to sit right here for about a week.”
She gave him her curious Vegan half-smile.
“I’d say you probably need bed rest,” she said. “At least for a few hours.”
He nodded wearily.
“I don’t think you should stay at the hotel,” she added. “If that wound acts up, there would be no one there to help you.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in her gorgeous green gaze.
“I have an extra bedroom upstairs,” she said softly. “You’ll sleep there tonight.”
“I will?”
“You will. Sophia’s orders.”
He smiled thinly. “Exactly who is Sophia?”
She pointed to the shrine in the corner.
“Goddess Sophia, the Queen of the Universe, the Giver of All Life.”
“Sounds suspiciously like several ancient deities on Terra,” he said.
She shrugged. “Probably so. Maybe she even came from Terra. It doesn’t really matter, because religion is all mythology anyway. But you have to believe in something.”
“I do?”
She smiled again, and laid her hand over his.
“Maybe not. But I do.”
Chapter 22
“If you ever encounter a situation where you have a pleasant diversion from the job, savor it. It won’t last.”