Indomitable

by W. C. Bauers

  Twenty-eight

  MAY 14TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 2145 HOURS

  PLANET GUINEVERE, NIGHTSIDE

  KIES ORBITAL TOUROSPHERE

  Promise walked into White Kies after a brief stop at a small observation post along the outer ring of the tourosphere. The Clown Nebula was just visible to the naked eye. A dais sat near the viewscreen, which opened at the top. It was shaped like a bowl and contained a polished black orb. It warmed to Promise’s touch. A well-dressed man appeared in a fitted trench coat with matching slacks and an old-fashioned pair of frameless glasses.

  “Hello, Ms. Paen. My name is Gunnar, the station’s AI. Would you care for a tour? If you’ll just take a seat, there, we’ll be on our way.” Gunnar motioned to a comfortable-looking armchair that hadn’t been there a moment before. Beside it was a small, circular table. On it lay a small visor that fit her perfectly.

  “I’ll let the kitchen know to keep your meal hot.”

  Promise opted for the spacewalk and the room about her shifted, and then she was looking out the visor of a vacsuit with a filtered view of the fifth planet. It ended up being ten minutes very well spent. Alterra boasted the most beautiful ice rings she’d ever seen. The experience wasn’t quite complete and the gravity in her stomach kept reminding her of how hungry she was. With some reluctance, Promise killed the program prematurely and found her way to the bar.

  White Kies was an oasis in the stars. Throughout the bar palm trees grew in pots, casting shadows over wicker tables and chairs. The roof appeared thatched, and sunlight winked through here and there. Just off the bar, groomed sands dotted with reclining beach chairs and tables completed the setting. Calypso and birdcalls played in the background. Promise opted for a seat at the bar, poolside, and leaned in so the terminal could scan her eyes. An attractive middle-aged bartender appeared a moment later with a steaming cup of caf and a tray of additives to doctor it blond. The second tray was piled high with finger foods.

  “Ms. Paen, welcome to White Kies. I’m Tanin and these are on me for while you wait. The tartare is divine.”

  Tanin placed a cloth napkin and a full service on the bar top with expert care, and fussed a moment until it looked just right. Kind hazel eyes, framed in silvery hair, looked up at her. His muscled arms wrapped in a sleeveless tropical shirt fit the ambience perfectly.

  “Let me know if you want something stronger.” He smiled. “Your entrée will be a few more minutes. I just need to shell the clams.”

  Promise laughed as Tanin disappeared through a set of swinging doors at the back of the bar. She dumped and stirred and sighed as the caf went down extra hot, swiveled in her chair, and looked up as a thunderhead rolled across the overhead. A slight breeze stirred the room.

  But for her and Tanin the bar was nearly empty. In one corner a young couple was playing a game of chance and an elderly gentleman appeared lost in a book. A short grunt came from the cage behind the bar. She turned to find a cheerless, four-legged creature with sad eyes looking at her. A bowl of fresh fruit sat at the bottom of the cage.

  “Don’t mind him.” Tanin returned with her meal and a glass of water on the rocks. “He just wants your food, not his. Please don’t feed him. He’s partial to fingers.”

  “Thanks for the tip. He’s pretty cute.”

  The creature scowled at the bartender before blowing Promise a kiss, and then he climbed a tree branch and disappeared into the foliage.

  “Yeah, well don’t let his eyes or charms fool you. He can con you with two, but the third is always on the meal.” Tanin held up his left hand and waved his center digit. It was missing the first joint. “My souvenir from my first day on the job, and I don’t regen. The previous barkeep didn’t bother to warn me.”

  At this, a furry three-eyed head dropped through the leaves upside down, looked at Tanin with two eyes open and the middle one closed, and stuck out a long blue tongue at him.

  “Laugh it up, Punk,” Tanin said as he gave the beast his truncated middle finger.

  “He’s pretty smart, too. What’s his name?”

  Tanin looked at Promise squarely. “It’s Punk, and believe me, he deserves it.”

  “Hello, little Punk,” Promise said, and then she blew the fur ball a kiss.

  A furry arm dropped into view, waved at Promise, and gave Tanin its middle finger before it disappeared.

  Tanin scowled and shook his head. “I won’t keep you two from each other. Holler if you need me. I’m on break for the next ten. I’ll just be over there.” He pointed toward a couch and screen in the far corner. A large wooden tribal mask hung from the overhead. “The Stellars-Grayclings game is on holocast and I’m only through inning three. I have box seats, too.”

  “Wait … isn’t that an old game?”

  “Ah, so you’re a fan?”

  “A friend of one.” She was thinking of Sergeant Sindri—Maxi. “He gambles a bit and loves to talk sports. I’ve picked up a few things from him over the years. I don’t recall the century.”

  “Twenty-sixth, during the Sector Series. A few planets tried to make a go of a mulitworld league. Unforeseen costs quickly bankrupted the venture. Such a shame. It was a marvelous series. The Stellars won in the sixth game, final inning.”

  “Well, enjoy.” Promise held up her half-full mug. “Fantastic caf by the way.”

  “My pleasure,” Tanin said.

  Promise dug into a heaping plate of al dente pasta, shellfish, and something like squid. She got a shock when a tentacle latched itself to her back molar and refused to let go. She had to chew it to death. The food was well seasoned and on the raw side for her taste, but altogether satisfying. Promise gave herself permission to lick the plate clean.

  I am on vacation. A few extra klicks in the morning should take care of that.

  She was halfway through a second cup of caf when a man joined her on the opposite side of the bar. Tanin placed a tall beer in front of him without saying a word. Promise nodded when he looked up. He seemed lost in another place and looked right through her. He wore a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt with KIES embroidered over the heart. The man worked out.

  A lot.

  She couldn’t help noticing the ink on his arm. It was nearly a full sleeve. She thought she saw the coiled tail of something much larger too. Her hand snaked up her arm to her shoulder, which was still pretty angry from her time in the chair with the father. When the man cleared his throat, Promise realized she’d been staring at him.

  “Sorry,” Promise said from across the bar. “I was admiring your tattoo.”

  His eyes could have frozen space.

  “Enjoy your stay on the tourosphere.” He held her gaze a moment longer, until she looked away.

  Tanin broke the awkwardness of the moment with a second beer and a plate of sushi. He placed both without saying a word. Then he skirted the bar to Promise’s side, and grabbed a pitcher of water on his way around.

  “One of your colleagues?” Promise asked in a low voice, nodding to the other man.

  “Yes and no. We both work for Kies. He’s corporate. I know what he drinks and eats, and to leave him well enough alone.” Tanin gave her a firm look. “The rest isn’t my business.”

  “I was just admiring his ink. I got my first before coming here.” Promise patted her shoulder. “His line work is exquisite. Even from here I can see that. Do you know what the tail goes to?”

  “A dragon. I’ve seen the rest and it looks cultural, from where I couldn’t say.”

  “Local artist?”

  “You’ll have to ask him but I wouldn’t bother. Name’s Wade. I’m back to my game. Yell if you need something.”

  Promise finished her caf and keyed her minicomp. She added a hefty tip for Tanin and sent a quick thank-you to his queue. As she got up to leave, Wade pushed back too, and they locked eyes. This time there was a hint of something else in them. Wade gave her a reluctant nod, looked left, right, and behind him, and then headed for the entrance.

 
He just checked his sight lines and the exits. Strange thing for a corporate type to do. Unless … Beneath the shirt she noticed the slightest bulge, by the left kidney. Wade was packing. And he’s a leftie.

  Twenty-nine

  MAY 14TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 2337 HOURS

  PLANET GUINEVERE, NIGHTSIDE

  KIES ORBITAL TOUROSPHERE

  As Promise exited White Kies she caught sight of Wade entering the hotel Tribeca, on the opposite side of the concourse. A small kiosk of Kies souvenirs flanked the entrance. The lobby was open-aired, giving her an unobstructed view. And, given the lateness of the hour, deserted. She’d briefly considered staying at the Tribeca until she saw the nightly rate. The four-star hotel lay along the outer wheel of the tourosphere. The presidential suite was famous for its swimming pool that seemed to flow into space.

  Just inside, Wade stopped at the hotel’s caf bar and withdrew his minicomp.

  Which reminds me. I said I’d make the best of this.

  Promise glanced at her chrono, and then realized she had no schedule to keep but her own.

  Perhaps, just this once, I’ll take a lesson from Maxi and spend some of my hard-earned chits. But only a bit. As she reached the kiosk, Gunnar appeared in a white Kies uniform, and asked if she was after something specific.

  “No, thank you. Just browsing.”

  “I have several items on special. Perhaps you’d like to see.…”

  A small light-blue tote immediately caught her eye; then she scanned the price. Oh, well. The white and blue Kies souvenir cup was cheap enough, and it fit within her budget.

  “We’re running a three-for-two special, today only,” said Gunnar. So she scooped up two more—one for Maxi and one for Kathy—and the lapel pin for her PT cap. She held out her bracelet to pay.

  Out of the corner of her eye a man and a woman appeared from a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Promise paid them little attention at first, until the man gently shoved the woman forward, causing her to stumble a bit. There was a brief exchange of words, but Promise was too far away to make them out. Her antennae shot up instantly.

  The couple made their way to Wade, and a moment later ordered drinks. The man opened his hand and gestured toward the woman, palm up, from head to toe. Like Wade, he was middle-aged. His hair was braided and pulled back and tied with a lavender ribbon. The woman seemed younger, but from this distance Promise couldn’t be sure.

  The woman’s dress was floor-length and hooded. When the older gentleman pulled the hood back and brushed the woman’s face with his hand, Promise felt her gut knot up.

  She was just a girl, perhaps a young woman at a stretch. The men shook hands and Wade headed to the lift while the ponytail and the girl stayed at the bar.

  Promise moved to the minicomp cases on autopilot. She found an armband died a lovely shade of blue—for her morning runs—and a large bill hat to match. She purchased them and a Kies tote bag to carry it all in without checking the price. While she paid, the girl became agitated and shook her head. Their voices rose, and Promise heard the girl say, “No.” Then she tried to pull away and Ponytail spilled his caf. He grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the lift at the back of the lobby.

  Promise didn’t think. She rounded the kiosk, purchases in hand, and jogged between the tables and chairs to reach the lift just as the doors closed.

  “Thanks for holding it for me.” Floor ten was already lit. “Eleven please.”

  A hint of a smile crossed Ponytail’s thin lips. “First time on the station?”

  Promise held up her bag stuffed with overpriced trinkets. The simple-script gold Kies insignia on the tote consumed most of one side. “Guilty as charged.”

  “My daughter and I spend a lot of time here.” Ponytail’s hand was still wrapped around the girl’s arm. “I do a bit of consulting for Kies, so…” He trailed off as if nothing more needed to be said.

  Right. Promise went fishing. “What sort of consulting?” Promise smiled at the girl, who promptly looked away.

  “Mostly legal contracts,” said the man. “Not very interesting I’m afraid.”

  The girl shifted her weight and the man pulled her closer to him, and then he pulled her hood on, covering her eyes.

  “Forgive my daughter’s rudeness. She ate something that didn’t agree with her.”

  “Well, I hope you get to feeling better.”

  The girl nodded but didn’t speak.

  Maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe she really does feel bad. For all I know, there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this.

  “I’m off to the surface tomorrow morning … and I’ve had a long day of travel. Bed sounds good.” She forced a yawn.

  “Enjoy. Ah—here we are. Have a nice stay.” The lift doors opened at ten.

  Promise exited a floor above, found the stairwell, and descended as fast as she could, making as little sound as possible. As she reached the stairwell exit she heard voices approaching. Ponytail’s was immediately recognizable.

  “Try something like that again and it will cost you.” His voice was gruff and pitched low.

  Light spilled beneath the exit door, and then flickered as their shadows swept by.

  “Mr. Wade is an important client, and he’s very particular. You understand? Answer me, foolish girl.”

  “Yes.” The one-word answer was clipped and full of pain.

  “When he’s done with you, meet me in the lobby like we discussed. Listen carefully to everything he says. I want a full…”

  Promise lost the conversation as they moved farther from the stairwell door. She counted to ten and tried the door. To her great relief it opened without protest. As she slipped out onto soft butterscotch carpet, they turned the corner and disappeared from view. One hand to the wall, Promise advanced down the corridor until she came to the L, and then she peered around the corner. They were five doors down and still moving. Promise ghosted across the passageway and into the alcove. Two high-back chairs and a small table faced the viewport and the starscape beyond.

  Down the hall more words were exchanged, a door opened, and a third voice spoke. Wade’s. The door closed and a set of footfalls drew close. Promise slipped into one of the chairs and curled up, waited until the lift opened and closed. Surely the man with the ponytail had returned to the lobby like he’d said he would. A few moments later, Promise was at the door of Room 10312. “Now, go undress,” she heard Wade’s muffled voice say. Feet shuffling. Something hit the wall and shattered. She heard a defiant “No,” and the sounds of a struggle.

  Promise reached for the stunner concealed against her hip and passed it to her off hand. Fleet Forces were prohibited from carrying lethal weapons while off-base and out of uniform. She’d never have gotten her service piece—or her GLOCK, for that matter—through the platform’s security anyway, even though the GLOCK was a registered antique and grandfathered under the RAW’s firearms laws. Stunners were allowed with the appropriate permit. It would have to do.

  She fished the cap from her bag and pulled it down to conceal her eyes, pulled the bag over her left shoulder, and pushed her hand and the stunner into the bag. Then she put her eye to the scanner on the door of 10312 and blinked rapidly to generate an error. She heard the error message sound, and wondered if it was enough to get Wade’s attention. Better kick the door just to be sure.

  “Why does this always keep happening to me?” She kicked the door a second time. “I just want to go to bed.” She grabbed the handle and tried to force it open, jostled it in frustration to be sure Wade heard her. “I’m going to give Gunnar a piece of my mind. I paid too much to put up with this crap.” The door clicked, and swung inward. Promise did her best to look surprised.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong room. What number is this?”

  Wade was shirtless and dressed only in skivvies. His eyes focused upon her, and then his head tilted slightly. His tattooed dragon covered a third of his body and it seemed to be alive. “Wait, don’t I know—”r />
  Promise squeezed the trigger as Wade’s eyes went wide in recognition. His body tensed immediately from the shock of the blast. She followed up with a hard kick to his groin. Wade stumbled back into the room, bent over in pain.

  Thirty

  MAY 14TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 2346 HOURS

  PLANET GUINEVERE, NIGHTSIDE

  KIES ORBITAL TOUROSPHERE

  Wade stumbled back several paces and almost went down on the plush carpeting. He somehow managed to get his feet beneath him and when he came up he was actually smiling.

  Uh-oh.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” He put his hands up, both palms out in mock surrender, and began moving backward toward the bedroom door.

  “Don’t move,” Promise said, “and keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Wade took another step backward. Promise heard a whimper coming from the bedroom, and then the rustling of bedclothes. She thumbed the stunner to two-thirds of max and fired again. Wade grunted, and a bead of sweat broke from his hairline and ran down the side of his face. He steadied himself against a wall to keep from going down.

  “It will take more than that to take me,” he said with labored breath. “When I’m done taking you you’ll wish you were dead too.”

  A normal man would have gone down, but Wade hadn’t, and that led nowhere good.

  He must be shielded, Promise thought.

  Shields didn’t come cheap. Some spooks had them, as did private security firms, and some crime syndicates too.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  This time she hit him will a full-power blast. The snarl on Wade’s face turned into a pained expression that froze in place, face shocked open in white-eyed panic. Promise rushed forward and drove the stunner into the eye of the dragon over Wade’s heart. She stroked the trigger twice more, half expecting to kill him. He landed with a heavy thud on the floor.