by B. V. Larson
On the screen, however, the image changed. Dust World, a dirtball resembling an overgrown version of Mars filled the visual field. There were no polar ice caps and only a few wispy clouds. Dust World was, as the name suggested, a desert planet.
We stared together, fascinated as the scope played over the planet, zooming in to give details. Virtually all life on Dust World existed in deep fissures in the star-baked surface. These cracks were called valleys, and they were green and dank at the bottom.
Guiding the scope with her voice, Galina focused in on the most interesting oasis of life of them all. It was purplish and shaped like a bat’s wing, standing out on what was otherwise a craggy, sun-blasted landscape.
“That’s it,” I said. “The valley where Etta was born…”
“The only human colony in existence…” Galina said thoughtfully. “Such a tough group of people. To think we sent them out from our world a century ago. They were exiles from Earth originally, you know.”
“They’re still pariahs, in a way.”
She looked at me. “The scope can’t zoom in any closer?”
“Nope. That’s probably a good thing. I would freak out if I saw Etta waving up at us—even though I know it’s all an illusion.”
“Are you thinking about going out there?” Galina asked me. “To get your daughter back?”
I glanced at her in surprise. She was a sharp one. She was catching on, somehow, to the idea that everything wasn’t perfect in my family tree.
“Uh…” I said. “There’s no need. She’ll come back when the time is right.”
Galina nodded quietly, as if confirming a dark suspicion. Heaving a sigh, she put her arms around my neck.
This was only possible when she stood on her tiptoes. Even then, it wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t been bending over to look into the scope. She was a petite woman, after all, and I was a solid two meters tall.
Putting my hands on her hips, I slowly straightened up. Her feet lifted off the ground, and she wrapped her shapely legs around my waist.
We kissed, and I began to get ideas—but she put a finger to my lips.
“I have to go,” she said. “I’m sorry. I must report to work in the morning. Even with my air car, the drive will take hours. I might even be late to the office.”
“Damn,” I said. “How about you stay, I drive you, and you sleep on the way?”
“You’d do all that? Just for one more round of passion?”
I shrugged. To me, the answer seemed obvious.
She craned her neck, looking back at the auto-scope. Dust World still glimmered there.
She turned back to scrutinize my face. She was still in my arms, with my big hands holding her butt up in the air. As a consequence, we were pretty much nose-to-nose.
“Tell me the truth first,” she said. “What is Etta doing out there on that irradiated rock?”
“Visiting relatives,” I lied flatly.
She made a little pffing sound, as women often tended to do when talking to me.
“James, the Dust Worlders don’t dote on one another. They’re more like a swarm of sharks than a tight-knit family. The more I’ve thought about it today, the more I’ve begun to wonder…”
I almost dropped her. She was killing the mood, that was for sure.
“Do we have to talk about Etta? What difference does it make why my daughter does anything? Is this all some kind of elaborate ploy on your part?”
She looked shocked. “Elaborate ploy? What are you talking about?”
She slid out of my arms and down to the creaking porch floorboards. Her hands formed tiny fists, and they planted themselves on her hips.
“I’m talking about you coming down here, seducing me, and then asking a lot of questions.”
She slapped me. I let her do it, but I watched her hands and her feet to see if she’d go for more. I wasn’t going to play punching-bag for long.
She seemed to sense this, and she just glared at me.
“You’re ruining everything,” she said, turning away. “We had such a nice time—and now you’re suggesting I’m some kind of manipulative witch who—”
I touched her shoulders lightly and whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just a little sensitive about some topics. You can understand, can’t you?”
She took a few deep breaths and relaxed a few notches.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m too suspicious sometimes. Let’s go back to where we were.”
We tried, but the magic seemed to be gone. The evening was a cool one, and Galina began to pack her stuff.
An hour later, she was gone. I watched her air car vanish into the black sky. After a minute or so, it was only one more star among millions—one that glided away to the north until it vanished behind the treetops.
Along about then, I heard a twig crack out in the bog.
Now, I’ve been living alongside a swamp for many, many years. When you live in a place like that, a place of nature, you get to know the sounds of it.
Maybe it was because of Galina, but I’d failed to notice how quiet things had become out on the bog. The natural peeping and chirruping of insects and animals had died away to almost nothing.
My hand reached for my sidearm, but it came up empty. All I had I had in my hands was a half-empty beer bottle. I must have left my gun inside.
Women could be very distracting.
A voice spoke then, surprisingly close. My eyes strained, but I couldn’t make out the source. There was nothing there, not even a shadow cast by the bright blue-white light of the Moon.
“I thought she’d never leave,” the voice said. “How do you get women to stay so long of their own free will, McGill? You must release some kind of an ape-musk that drives them wild.”
The voice was well-known to me. It was Claver.
-3-
Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t spot him. But judging by the nearness of his voice, he had to be close.
Then, I caught on.
“Wearing one of those Vulbite stealth suits, aren’t you?” I asked, looking in the direction I thought he was.
“More like a Vulbite stealth trash-bag, if you ask me,” Claver said. “Have you ever been inside one of these things?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. What do you want, Claver? And what are you doing sneaking around on my property without permission? The last time you pulled that, it didn’t go well for you.”
I had, in fact, murdered him upon our last meeting. Maybe that’s why he was wearing a stealth suit.
“I’m sensing a general lack of trust, here,” Claver said. “Let’s put our cards on the table, McGill. I’m an injured party, seeking restitution. I’m hoping you will provide satisfaction, rather than further abuse.”
He’d said all this in the tone of a Texas lawyer. But his words left me blinking and confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“So that’s how you’re going to play it? Falling back on the tried and true dummy routine? You were born to play dumb, McGill, but I’m not buying it this time around.”
“Huh?”
He sighed, and at that moment I thought I saw something move. I quickly realized I had seen something unusual. There were two shoe-shaped depressions in the grass. They wouldn’t have been easy to spot, other than for the fact that the grass came half-way up to the man’s knees.
Spotting him like that made me feel vindicated. This was precisely the kind of moment I was always explaining to various women who saw my lack of gardening skills as a sign of pure laziness on my part. You never could tell when a more natural environment might come in handy.
Turning away from him, I gave no hint I’d pinpointed his location. Instead, I crossed my arms and stared at a tree that was about ten meters off to one side, as if I thought that was Claver. I gave that imaginary Claver my best blank-faced, moronic stare.
Inside, I was feeling happy.
You see, I don�
�t like when people I view as enemies make unscheduled visits. Such events always seem to put me in a terrible, territorial mood.
“You’re actually going to play this to hilt, aren’t you boy?” Claver asked angrily. “Well, that’s just fine. You obviously know what your daughter did! I’m owed a debt, and I’m here to collect!”
The mention of Etta put me into a new zone of heightened tension.
“Aw now,” I warned, “you don’t want to be threatening my daughter.”
“What? Try listening for a change, dummy. I’m demanding you make good on the deal I made with her.”
I shrugged. “You’ll probably have to head out to the stars for that. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.”
“To Dust World, I know,” he said, making another error.
Like I’ve said before, I’m not quick to anger, but I don’t take threats toward my family lightly. Etta might have stolen my property, sold it, and run off with the money—but she was still my little girl.
Slowly, I turned toward Claver—toward where he was really standing. I locked my eyes onto the spot about six feet above those two shoe-size divots in my overgrown lawn and stared.
“Can you see me?” he asked quietly.
I continued to stare.
“Shit,” he said, and the grass at his feet rustled.
I had to move fast, before I lost him. Accordingly, I cocked back the beer bottle in my hand—it was all I had—and threw it. I threw it hard.
The bottle flipped end-over-end once, then thumped into something in the night air. There was a curse and a crash. A man-shaped area of folded-down grass appeared.
Springing after him, I launched myself as he scrambled up. I landed on nothing, but I sensed he was close.
I could hear him, but couldn’t see him. Snatching wildly, I caught an ankle—and I pulled it up into the air.
He did a facer on the ground, and a needler sang. A hot beam lit up my hair just above my right ear, but I didn’t let go.
Instead, I stood and yanked his ankle high. He went down as his foot went up, tangled inside the stealth suit. His foot was visible now, having slipped out of the suit entirely.
“Let me go! You’ve got no damned sense of hospitality, you frigging gorilla!”
I didn’t speak. Instead I kicked out, landing hard blows with my size-thirteen work boots. I kept kicking, and he fired a few more times, but missed. At some point he lost his grip on the needler, and it went rattling onto the ground.
“All right, all right!” Claver called out, panting. “You caught me. Now, let me get out of this damned poncho so we can talk.”
After one more mean, sweeping kick, I let go of him. He peeled off the suit and dropped it in disgust.
“Worthless tech,” he complained. “I had big plans, but it doesn’t work worth a shit if the other guy knows you’re wearing it. Besides, it’s almost as hard to see out of it as it is to see in.”
Putting my hands on my knees, I leaned over him. “Any last words, Claver?” I asked.
“So that’s it, huh? Murder again? I thought you got your jollies the last time we met.”
“I did, and I’m fixing to enjoy myself all over again.”
“Vicious, amoral killers. That’s what all your Varus legionnaires become eventually.”
“That’s it, huh? Just insults? Kind of a waste for your final moments.”
My big hands plunged toward his neck.
“Wait!” he called out, and I hesitated, easing my grip. His windpipe convulsed under my fingertips.
“You owe me,” he rasped. “Etta took my money, and she ran off with it. The book was a fake.”
I froze, considering his words.
Right about then, it occurred to me that I’d never dug into my hiding spot, the place where I’d stashed the book out in the older of our two barns. Could it be that Etta had given Claver the wrong book?
I laughed suddenly—long and loud.
Straightening up, I released him.
Claver had a coughing fit and glowered up at me in the moonlight.
“You McGills are all cheats,” he complained.
“You want to know why I killed you the last time we met?” I asked him. “And why you almost died again just now?”
“I think that’s abundantly clear. You’re a rabid dog. A beast that should be put down.”
“That’s part of it, I suppose,” I admitted. “But I got mad when I learned you’d approached my teen daughter. My family is off-limits, Claver. You’ve got your private little planet full of clones stashed away among the stars, and I’ve got sixty acres of swamp here on Earth. Can we agree to stay out of those two zones in the future?”
Claver climbed slowly, warily, to his feet. He brushed himself off and slouched, appearing relaxed.
Claver was a weasel, but he was no coward. As long as he thought I wasn’t going to kill him right off, he was at ease in my presence. That was a dramatic difference between him and other weasels, such as Winslade. Lesser men behaved like pathetic piss-and-shiver dogs when I was in one of my intense moods.
“We can agree on that,” he said after a moment. “But I still need my property. Imagine my embarrassment when I delivered the product and was informed it was bogus.”
“Maybe we never had the real deal,” I said. “Maybe I was mistaken as to the book’s—”
“Uh-uh,” he said. “That’s not going to fly. The book had the right cover and the title page matched—but the pages inside were all wrong. It was some kind of crappy, self-help book. Old, sure. Made of paper and about the right dimensions—but it was a fake.”
I grinned again. I couldn’t help myself. Etta really was like her old man. “She pulled one over on you? For reals? That’s a hoot.”
For some reason, knowing Etta had screwed Claver in a deal brought me great pride. She was a true McGill, after all.
Laughing, I slapped him one on the back that made him stagger. He glared at me and my offending hand, which now rested heavily on his shoulder.
“Take your paw off me,” he complained, but I took no heed.
“Look,” I said, “you and I are going to have a little talk about that Mogwa-killing formula you’re so anxious to sell, and then we’re going to figure out how to handle this situation. But we’re going to talk, first.”
“What about?”
“Who’s your buyer?”
Claver shook his head. “I can’t say. In fact, you don’t want to know. It would only sink you and your family deeper into this mess.”
I gripped the back of his neck and gave him a little shake. He growled at me and cursed, but I could tell he was willing to die over it.
Sighing, I let go of him again. “All right. You don’t want to say—I can understand that. Next question: What’s in it for me if I help you get the real book?”
He blinked. “I already paid! This is a shake-down—literally!”
“It’s my book, and I haven’t gotten one thin credit-piece from you.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “I get it now. You’re in cahoots, trying to get paid twice. You made a crude fake, but you knew I’d be cautious about accepting the book from you personally, so you had your little girl do the hand-off. Diabolical.”
These words were ironic coming from Claver who, to the best of my knowledge, was the king of double-dealing in Province 921.
“Do you want the damned book, or not?” I demanded.
He presented me with a list of further complaints.
“All right, damn you,” he said at last, when he realized I wasn’t even listening.
“Good… That’ll be one million credits.”
To my surprise, he brightened. “A million? Done.”
I frowned, wondering how much he’d paid Etta. Dammit, I’d ripped myself off.
Shrugging, I waved for him to follow me. “This way.”
He trailed me across the bog. “How can you even see out here in this stinking mud?”
“Don’t have to.
I know the way.”
He slipped and slapped along another hundred paces, but then halted. “You’re taking me to a secondary location, aren’t you? A staging spot for a killing? What, wasn’t your own overgrown yard optimal for murder? The grass was so high I doubt they would have even found the body.”
“Are you coming or not?”
Grumbling, he followed. In the light of the Moon, we made our way to the second barn, the old one way back on our property. No one had used it for decades.
The door creaked, and the single bar of lights flickered, casting bluish light over the dusty interior.
In my own head, I hadn’t decided yet what I was going to do with Claver or the book. I was keeping my options open.
Prying back a floorboard, I dug in the spidery dark and pulled up a metal case. Claver reached for it, but I slapped him away.
“It’s booby-trapped,” I told him.
“Of course it is…” he chuckled, and he stepped aside.
I opened it carefully after disarming the bomb inside, and the case opened with a snick.
Inside… it was empty.
-4-
“Another trick?” Claver demanded. “Does it have a false bottom or something?”
I sighed. “I wish it did—but no. She took it.”
Claver stared at me, and the empty case. “Seriously? You’re not bullshitting me? The girl took it with her?”
“I think so.”’
“What kind of a lame scheme are you running here, McGill? I followed the bump-up for the extra pay—but this doesn’t make any sense.”
“I guess I should explain a few things, then.”
I told Claver the truth then—with some mild editing, of course. I told him Etta and I had had a falling out. That she’d wanted to join the legions, and I’d forbidden it.
“So…” he said. “She took my offer because she wanted money to start a new life. I get that. A teen dream. But then she gave me a fake book and ran off? Didn’t she know I’d come looking for my property?”
“She probably doesn’t realize who she’s dealing with.”
“Right… I get that a lot. Okay, I think we both know where this is heading next.”