“She has twenty combat marines. Nothing we could stand against. Yvette considers arrest as probable given that Supervisor Aguila hasn’t requested our personal debriefings, input, or advice. The Supervisor’s most economical and prudent course of action is to remove us as quickly as possible and confine us to Turalon.”
“You could slip out, too,” she told him with a weary smile. “Same with Yvette. We’d have a better chance with the three of us.”
Shig took another tiny sip of his wine. “I cannot survive as a Wild One, Talina. Nor could Yvette. We don’t have your skills or that searing white heat of the soul that makes you great.”
“Me? Great?”
“You are our strength. I am the soul. And Yvette? She’s the cunning. She and I will fight in our own way, assuming we ever get to Transluna.”
“You’re sounding remarkably serene about all this.”
He shrugged. “I am who I am. Who I was. Even before Donovan refined my understanding of life, death, and karma. Here, dukkha flows around a person as if he is immersed in water.”
“Think we ought to move first?” She watched his soft brown eyes for reaction.
“My impression is that she’s expecting that.” He paused. “Run, Talina. At least for the time being.”
She chugged the last of her beer. “Yeah, probably for the best, huh? Damn it, Shig! I hate to run.”
“I’ll tell the Supervisor I sent you on a scout. Where you gonna be?”
“Rorke Springs. The water there won’t kill me.”
“Watch your butt out there, Talina. If things become settled here, I’ll send you a message.”
“Right.”
“Now, beat feet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Talina shrugged on her poncho and headed for the door. Outside the rain continued to pelt down out of the night sky. Shig was right, the quetzals and every other nasty damn thing on Donovan would be out hunting.
She splashed down the muddy avenue into the residential domes, one hand on her pistol. It didn’t matter that she was used to the dark sections; the few remaining pools of light were cast by the last of the working street lights. So, which was the more dangerous? Donovan’s predators, or the Supervisor?
Nevertheless she arrived at her dome without incident, stepped inside, and flicked on the light.
She had just hung her slicker when she noticed the drying puddles of water on her floor. Her hand tightened on the butt of her pistol when Cap Taggart—dressed in full combat armor—stepped out of her bedroom, rifle up. Another marine popped up from behind her couch, weapon leveled. A third stepped out of her bathroom.
“Go ahead,” Taggart urged. “Draw that pistol. You’ll save us the time it will take to try you and the effort of executing your ass afterward.”
She actually entertained the urge to draw and shoot. A futility, given that they were armored. Nevertheless, she’d have the momentary satisfaction of going down fighting.
Slowly, despite a growing rage, she lifted her hands in surrender.
15
Allison Chomko tilted her head back and gasped, her arms tightening around Dan’s back and shoulders. Artfully swiveling his hips he rolled his erection inside her, adding to the intensity of her orgasm.
The feel of her breasts against his chest, her hot panting against his neck, and the viselike way she tightened her legs around his thighs triggered his own response. Driving into her, he arched—as if to penetrate the woman to her center as he sucked air and his loins exploded.
Allison was still moaning when he finally slumped onto her, panting for breath.
“My God, my God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t.”
Dan rolled onto his side, studying the woman’s profile. Her pale skin had flushed pink over her cheeks, throat, breasts, and belly. He’d heard of it, but never seen it before.
On this or any other world, Allison Chomko was a find: artfully formed with full and rounded breasts, a narrow waist, and flat belly. Now she lifted a long leg as she used a cloth to stanch the flow of their combined joy.
“Married woman like you? Surely you’ve been off like this before? How did you ever make your daughter?”
She shifted, her deep-blue eyes almost luminous in the damp sheen of her flushed face. Curls of blonde hair clung to her forehead and cheeks, the rest of it spread out in a golden tangle on her pillow. “My parents were Third Ship. I was six when I came here. Grew up here. There wasn’t a whole lot of choice, and the women have always outnumbered the men. Rick was Third Ship, too. He and I, we just kind of grew into each other. I mean, sex was good. But, damn, it was nothing like this.”
Her smile exposed white teeth behind her pink lips.
He ran gentle fingertips over her drying skin, tracing patterns over her shoulder, along the line of her clavicle, and down the swell of her breast to circle her pink nipple. With soothing strokes, he teased it erect.
She sighed. “I could get to like this.”
He gave her his most reassuring smile. “I’ve never met a woman like you. So strong, tough, and yet filled with such a compassion and warmth. I wonder if I . . .”
“What? Come on, Dan.”
“Well, I was wondering if I had to come across the stars to find a woman that made my dreams come true.”
He watched her pupils expand against the blue of her eyes, saw the softening of her lips. He could almost despise the men who’d never cherished her—never encouraged her to discover what a marvelous and giving woman she wanted to be.
Almost.
“That’s the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Her eyes went suddenly misty, and she looked away, blinking.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to cause you any—”
“No, it’s all right.” She wiped her eyes, then knotted her fists against her chest. “I mean, you’ll get the wrong impression. Rick loved me. He really did. And when he died, it was all I could do to keep one foot ahead of the other. And I knew I had to live for Jessie. Then, when she was taken from me? I guess I thought that was the end.”
She took a deep breath, swelling her chest. “When you offered to buy me a drink last night, I just couldn’t quite . . . Well, I guess it was your smile. The way you looked at me with such honest appreciation.”
He’d read her correctly, all right. A lonely, broken-hearted woman in desperate need of being reminded that she mattered. That a modicum of hope still lay ahead of the current wreckage and pain in her life.
Could he pick them, or what? A smile, the soft-eye look, and she’d melted.
“If I could have one wish,” he told her, “do you know what it would be?”
“Wealth and success on Donovan?” she suggested shyly.
“I would shower you with riches. Ensure that you never had to want again, never had to worry about being lonely and forgotten. How would you like to be one of the most admired and influential women on this entire world?”
“And how are you going to do that? You don’t even have a job. They brought you here to take care of cattle, and there’s not a cow left.”
“There are other ways to make money. Ways that don’t involve risk and death and worry. Ways that would see you dressed in fine clothes. That would have others doing your laundry, cleaning, and cooking. Ways that would make you one of the most prosperous women on Donovan.” He pointed a finger. “That’s not smoke, my dear. I mean it.”
For a moment she started to smirk, then her expression changed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Allison, I don’t joke about things like this. I mean it, and I want you to help me. To share in the dream.”
She stared thoughtfully at him. “Do you have some special contract with The Corporation? Know of some ore deposit, or something?”
“No. And let’s let others do the hard work, the dangerous work. That
sort of thing is risky, as you know so well. Me, I’d prefer the finer things in life. Like hot meals prepared and served. Clean clothes.” He winked. “Lazy afternoons making love to the most beautiful woman in all of space. Seeing her smile, holding her hand. That sort of thing.”
“And just how are you going to do that?”
“All in good time, Allison. But for right now, I think I’ve had time to recover. Why don’t you lay back and relax? Let me see what I can coax from your body that you never knew you could feel.”
He bent over, placing his lips to hers and using them in a caressing kiss that caused her to lace her arms around him.
Beautiful. Sensual. And willing to learn and trust. Allison Chomko couldn’t have been more perfect.
16
The few who were out early had stopped, staring with disbelieving eyes as Talina was paraded down the central avenue by a four-man marine guard. The marines might have tied her hands behind her, but they kept their weapons trained on her as if she were still a threat to life and limb.
No sooner had she passed than the morning spectators hurried away. Knowing her people as she did, she had no doubt but that word would be all over town within minutes: Talina’s been arrested!
She arched an eyebrow as she was marched up to the tavern door; chairs from the cafeteria were stacked three high on a wagon to the side. The old sign, scrawled in faded red letters, had never been as meaningful to her: THE BLOODY DRINK.
As she was ordered down the stairs inside, it was to see bedlam as marines and Skulls picked up the heavy chabacho-wood tables and hauled them over to be stacked to one side. Chairs were being set out in rows.
“Let me guess,” she asked, “this is just the Supervisor’s charming way of inviting me out for a drink?”
“Shut up, maggot,” the marine—who had Shintzu stenciled on her armor—told her. “Head for that door to the right of the bar.”
Talina considered her options as she walked across the stained flagstones. Inga’s back room was large, filled with shelves, and had a small office in the far corner where the woman kept her accounts. A paved ramp allowed her to roll kegs and palettes of wine and whiskey down from the big double doors that opened to the stone-and-timber distillery and brewery out back.
Once in the room—assuming Talina could get free of the binding straps—was there anything she could use as a weapon? Some way to disable her guards? After that it was up the ramp, out the doors, and no more than a fifty-meter sprint to the west gate. Then another two kilometers to the bush.
As if I’d last a day out there unarmed, without food or water.
One of the marines—Talbot this time—opened the door, then stepped back as she entered. Fuck. More marines. All in armor. All with weapons at port arms.
And there, on a chair in the center of the room, sat Shig, his hands tied behind him, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Yvette—also bound—slumped in a chair to Shig’s right, her ash-blonde hair uncombed. She was wearing a bathrobe and slippers.
“Got you out of bed, did they?” Talina asked as she was led to the third chair. “That’s about as rude as you can get.”
“I didn’t even make it home,” Shig told her amiably. “Saved me a long walk in the rain. Thoughtful of them.”
“Why the tavern?” Talina wondered as she was shoved into the seat.
“I don’t know,” Yvette told her. “But given that they were removing the tables, I’m hoping the Supervisor isn’t considering shutting it down. Not only will Inga’s income suffer, but half the colony will rise in revolt.”
At that juncture Captain Taggart and Supervisor Aguila emerged from Inga’s back office, where they’d apparently been in conference.
“Oh, the rabble can go back to their dissolute diversions,” Supervisor Aguila declared as she walked over to stare down at them. “First things first. I have to deal with the ringleaders and mutineers. That necessitates your removal under circumstances that ensure your people are obedient and compliant. At the time of your convictions there will be an announcement that continuing investigations are underway. We’ve already had several most informative volunteers who have given us the names of your lieutenants. We’ll have them by tonight. After that, anyone who suggests behavior which isn’t consistent with the reestablishment of Corporate control will similarly find themselves in most uncomfortable circumstances.”
“Got it all figured out, do you?” Talina mused, glancing around at the distribution of the guards. “Why are we here?”
“To be the scapegoats.” Yvette didn’t wait to be told. “The Supervisor, here, needs a spectacle. She’s betting on a psychological bounce. That the rest will see us taken down, convicted, executed, or hauled up to the ship, and they will be appropriately chastised. The hope is that if we three can be dispatched with such ease, the rest will be tempted to fall in line and not cause any mischief.”
Aguila had crossed her arms over the fine black pantsuit she wore. The thing was immaculately tailored and accented in white piping. “Correct. ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’ I need order. Compliance. And you are my biggest obstacles to getting it.”
“I am curious, Supervisor.” Shig spoke in an almost friendly tone. “Upon your arrival, you made the assumption that we would oppose you. To the contrary, we had no agenda based on spite or conflict with you or The Corporation. Why didn’t you simply ask for our cooperation?”
Aguila cocked a skeptical eyebrow, blue eyes hardening in her pale face. “Given what you people did to Clemenceau, how you’ve run this place like a chaotic hive—and in total disregard for Corporate law and regulation—I’m supposed to believe you’d just smile and step aside?”
“Corporate law might be fine for Transluna and the stations back in Solar System”—Yvette’s cold green eyes narrowed—“but here it was getting people killed. Clemenceau couldn’t see that. The tighter he clenched his fist, the more people he executed for disobedience, the faster the colony began to fray.”
“So, you killed him and took over?”
Talina riposted. “You want to know why you’ve still got a colony here? It’s because of us. We kept it together. Yeah, sure, we made up our own rules, let people start businesses. Hell, in violation of your precious Corporate law, we even let them wander off into the bush without going out to hunt them down like animals the way Clemenceau did.”
Aguila snorted as if irritated. “Then I guess your success is your death warrant, Perez. In your own way, I’d say you’ve doomed this entire colony.” She paused. “Remember that when sentence is served this afternoon.”
“And there are no compromises to be made?” Shig asked. “No pleas entertained? No deals to be struck?”
“According to Corporate regulation 17, section 4C, tribunal will consist of myself, Captain Taggart, and First Officer Chan from Turalon. I wish you the best of luck with your pleas, Mister Mosadek.”
With that she turned and stalked from the room, Captain Taggart close on her heels.
“Well, shit,” Talina muttered, a sinking feeling in her gut. “Guess I just played hell, huh?”
“It’s not over,” Yvette told her. The woman’s head was tilted back, and she watched the guards through slitted lids.
“Actually, we’re going to trial,” Shig said with a serene smile. “I suspect the good Supervisor will go out of her way to demonstrate The Corporation’s superior knowledge, power, and invincibility.”
“What do you think?” Talina asked, a tingle in her gut. Her vision was going all weird again, her hearing growing acute. Fucking quetzal was screwing with her. “Execution before sunset?”
“Most likely,” Yvette said through a slow boil of anger and disgust.
Shig was smiling. “All is duhkka, and the Supervisor will, of course, condemn us based on the facts as she knows them.”
“That’s depressing.” Talina was studying
the guards. Would it be a firing squad? Was she looking at the men and women who would blow her body apart?
“It shouldn’t be,” Shig told her in that infuriating and peace-filled tone of his. “Those who are drowning in the darkness of tamas rarely see the inherent error of their ways.”
17
Cap had to admire the Supervisor’s adroit and swift moves. Her planning had been masterful, the execution flawless, and her sense for the colony’s psychology most perceptive. Keep them off balance. Don’t give them time to think, let alone organize. Reestablish The Corporation’s authority in no uncertain terms.
He had ambushed Talina Perez in her house. Lieutenant Spiro had taken Shig Mosadek on the street as he left the tavern. And Kalico—accompanied by a couple of privates—had roused Yvette Dushane out of her bed. No muss, no fuss, no scene.
The tavern was the only place large enough to hold the trial. And even then, most of the Turalon’s transportees were relegated to waiting outside given the lack of available space. The colonists had been processed, one by one, each asked to rack his or her weapon at the door. They’d bitched, moaned, and resisted, but had surrendered their guns with the assurance that they could pick them up again on the way out.
Cap smiled as he looked out at the room with its ranks of seated people. Even now two of his men were wheeling the racked weapons off to the admin dome where they’d be put under lock and key.
The tables had been moved to the back and stacked, extra chairs brought in from the cafeteria. It was still a sight to get used to—people dressed like leather-clad savages with their oversized hats and rainbow-colored boots and coats. Such a collection would have been considered a freak show back on Transluna.
Cap, Kalico, and Turalon’s first officer, Zak Chan, sat on elevated chairs behind the bar. The rest of his squad were posted around the tavern perimeter. They stood at attention in their battle armor, helmets off, weapons grounded, and while not obtrusive, the authority they projected couldn’t be misinterpreted.
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