Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  She knew she had never gained control of the situation at the prospectors' camp. Three men were dead. A dangerous animal was still at large. And she had brought in a new weapon, an enigma that only showed Ross even more that colonists were manufacturing their own brand of order.

  Debbi forced her gaze away from Ross's office and slowly walked outside. She headed toward home, intent on getting out of her dust-covered clothes. A hot bath followed by a stiff shot of whiskey, that's what she wanted. The former to make her body forget the day, the latter to make her mind forget. She wondered if there would be enough water to spare at this late hour.

  "Dallas!" Running footsteps coming her way made her look up. Ringo was approaching, his telltale smile plastered on his face. Ringo was really named Will Stuckey. But he didn't like that name so he insisted everyone call him Ringo, a name he felt spoke of daring and adventure. He stopped just ahead of her, hands on hips, and nodded his head toward headquarters. "How did it go?"

  Debbi just shrugged.

  Ringo laughed. "That good, huh?" He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let me buy you a drink."

  Debbi hesitated, thinking of her earlier plan. She wasn't ready to deal with the rest of the Rangers now. The lure of telling her adventure to them waned now that Ross had shot it full of holes. Now it seemed like a tale of failure. But Ringo's pleading face made her reconsider. He was her only true friend in Temptation. She sighed. It didn't matter which mode of forgetting she initiated first. A shot of whiskey was something she craved badly right now. She walked with Ringo, glancing toward Mo's. "It's still operational?"

  "The boys just redecorated it slightly. Only a fool would blast a good saloon into oblivion."

  Debbi chuckled. She was glad to see her fellow Rangers had their priorities straight.

  The interior lights in Mo's were bright despite the fact that flying chairs and bodies had broken some bulbs. Mo had his broom out and was steadily sweeping the place of the glass shards. He acknowledged Debbi's entrance with a nod.

  Ringo led her to the corner table that was usually the domain of the Colonial Rangers. Ty Miller was among the group. They were quiet and morose.

  "Hiya, fellas." She tried not to let her weariness show.

  "Debbi! Here, grab a chair!" A Ranger named Stew kicked over a chair from the nearest table. She grabbed it and sat down. Stew was an easygoing man, light in hair and fair in face. He was always pleasant and didn't have an enemy in the world.

  "You just get in?" asked Miller. He obviously had missed her standing next to Ross. That usually happened to just about anyone who stood in the boss' shadow.

  "About half an hour ago."

  Stew shook his head in amazement. There were few people, Rangers included, who were confident enough to wander the plains of Banshee alone after dark. Debbi was either mad or just too gutsy for him.

  Mo deposited a drink in front of her and she offered her thanks. She downed it in one swallow and then hissed slowly through her teeth as the burn set in. She let it trace a path to her gut before calling for Mo to bring a bottle.

  Ringo pointed to her badge. It had a deep dent with a single ragged scratch that went from dead center to a broken off point on the star.

  "Geezus, Dallas. What happened out there? Those miners didn't give you any trouble did they?" His question had a touch of brotherly protectiveness that Debbi noted and appreciated.

  Debbi leaned back in her chair and hooked a heel in the rung beneath it. "Let me tell you fellows, you better start packing your hollow points. There's something big and angry out there and my gun didn't even slow it down."

  This brought everyone forward with interest. She realized with pleasure that the boys were hanging on her story, which she didn't show on the jaded, veteran face she had adopted. It was a front, but one she was willing to use. Maybe if she played it right, the Rangers would accept her.

  "What was it?" Miller wanted to know.

  "Don't know, but it ripped through those miners like they were made of cream cheese. I'm lucky I got away with only my badge dented and not my head."

  "Sure it wasn't a garoul?" Miller offered. "Once when I was ..."

  Debbi interrupted, "Trust me, it wasn't anything we've seen on Banshee before." She inclined her head for emphasis. "I heard it laughing at me all the way home."

  "Going full throttle, were you?" Miller snickered.

  Debbi stared at him coolly. "It was nine feet tall and had more teeth and claws than your sister. What would you do?" She straightened off the chair, her eyes quietly flashing a challenge.

  "There's nothing wrong with my sister," he said hotly. He glowered at Debbi. "At least she's not named after an old skin flick."

  "Hell, if I thought Miller's sister was behind me," Stew offered, grinning good-naturedly at Debbi, "I'd run like a damn fool sissy and be bloody ecstatic about doing it too." He had dated Miller's man-hungry sister. The memory still gave him night sweats.

  Debbi chuckled, thankful to Stew. The men all laughed, except Miller. Stew's clean-cut face flashed a pure white grin as he poured Debbi another drink.

  "Thanks, Stew," she said. "Last one though. I'm beat."

  "Just what we need around here, another stinkin' creature," Miller grumbled in annoyance to change the subject. He really had no leg to stand on in defense of his sister. It was no secret she had gone through every Colonial Ranger in Temptation, all the men anyway.

  Ringo slapped Miller's arm in mock surprise. "How could you talk about your sister that way?"

  "Shut up, Stuckey," the man snarled back. "Don't you all think we spend more time doing animal control than arresting criminals?"

  "That's life on Banshee, Miller. Someday things'll settle down again." Debbi relaxed, her drink held in her lap. "It's not as if we haven't dealt with this kind of thing before."

  Miller scowled and rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying is that Banshee is a creepy enough planet with all those damn anouks running around. Not to mention those freaky Skinnies."

  Debbi said, "You know, Miller, the anouks were here before us. If you ever got out of this saloon, you might see that there are ruins all over Banshee. They had a major civilization here. And they're not animals. They're people, just like you and me."

  Miller huffed in disdain. "Like you maybe. You were born on this rock." He jerked a thumb at himself proudly. "I'm from Earth. And I plan on going back to Earth. Just because you're afraid to get back into space doesn't mean the rest of us want to spend our lives on this Godforsaken planet."

  The barb stung and Debbi's mood collapsed. It brought back the fear of her nightmare and the pain of isolation. Miller didn't know about her mother's death on the Cabal station, but he knew she was the station's Colonial Ranger and she had to abandon it. People like Miller never forgot things like that. Any chance to use them to hurt someone and he would strike.

  Ringo looked from Miller to Debbi with a look and tight-lipped anger, but he didn't feel it was his place to call out an older Ranger like Miller. Instead, he kept it light. "Keep dreaming, Miller. We're here for the duration. No one from Earth is coming to take you home to your mamma. If you ever had one, that is."

  Dallas smirked. Leave it to Ringo to back her up. He was a good kid. She closed her eyes and let the rest of the conversation wash over her. Their steady voices, discussing Miller's heritage and Stew's dating habits, lulled her to a peaceful state as she cradled her whiskey.

  Down time in Temptation was one of the few things she relished. Good people, bright sky, clean air and strong hooch. It was much different than being on the space station where life was always dark and metallic and stinking of recycled air, and the people were as cold as the steel that surrounded them in the dead of space.

  She cracked open an eye and regarded Ringo as he and Miller bantered over the pros and cons of the newly modified speeders. They were constantly trying to eke more and more power out of the tired old machines, which was difficult since there were no new parts coming. Once the Tunnel betwee
n Earth and Banshee had closed and trapped them in the "Lost Colony," they could only work with what they had. And that wasn't much.

  A small smile creased her lips as poor Stew got involved in the discussion against his wishes. Soon, the talk turned technical and Debbi suppressed a yawn. She rose with a liquid grace, despite the late hour, and planted her near-empty glass in the center of the group.

  "Well, guys, it's been fun, but I'm outta here." She eyed Miller with an impish glint. "I expect Ross is gonna have some of us doing animal control tomorrow. So I suggest that we hit the hay." She gave a mock salute to the table and sauntered away, her dark red hair brushing the top of her hips.

  The men watched her leave.

  "You ever wonder if she's as tough as she thinks she is?" Miller growled.

  Ringo groaned and rose too. "She'd take you out without blinking."

  "Hey, as long as she took me out. Dinner, movie, my ten-by-ten room."

  Stew stood to leave as well, adjusting his holster with a creak of leather as he stood. "You wouldn't stand a chance, Miller." The fair-haired Ranger motioned to Ringo and the two men departed.

  Miller grumbled, "Yeah, well, you're the one running away from my sister." He glanced around and realized he was alone at the table. He caught sight of Mo standing at the bar with arms crossed, awaiting payment. Miller groaned. He was stuck with the check. Again.

  Debbi stayed in a boarding house in a quiet part of Temptation. Despite the battering the town had taken in the Worldstorm, this neighborhood still held a certain charm. The storm hadn't completely killed the spirit of Temptation's residents. There were flower boxes in front of curtained windows. There were still picturesque front porches with swings swaying in the ceaseless breath of the wind.

  Debbi stepped up on one of the porches and ran her hand down the heavy chain holding the empty wooden swing. It fought her as the wind continued to buffet it. Banshee's winds were legendary and constant. But it was a part of the planet and Debbi loved it. She released the chain and let the seat begin its frantic dance once more.

  She entered the boarding house quietly so as not to disturb anyone. She sat on the worn paisley settee beside the door and removed her boots. Gathering them in one hand, she walked down the hall on the cushioned balls of her feet, soft and silent.

  She heard a creak behind her and turned to see Miss Etta Watts entering the hall from the kitchen. The slim woman was dressed in a floral frock gathered tightly around her slight frame. Her gray hair was pulled back into a long, tight braid.

  "Debbi, look at you, dear! Are you all right?"

  Debbi couldn't help but smile at the elderly woman. "Yes, I'm fine Miss Etta. Just a rough day."

  "Are you hungry? I have leftovers in the cooler."

  Debbi suspected Etta of waiting up for her. The woman seemed to take great pains in looking after Debbi, for which the young Ranger was grateful. That soft, calming, maternal presence comforted her.

  "No, thank you, Miss Etta. All I really want is a nice hot bath to wash off this dust. Would it be okay to do that this late?"

  Etta patted Debbi's arm affectionately. "You go right ahead, dear. No one will mind and we can afford the water this time of the year. I'll go make sure the water heater is on." Etta strode back down the hall.

  The young Ranger hurried to her room and gathered what she needed. She was going to enjoy this bath. It was a small luxury, but one that not even bone-numbing exhaustion was going to spoil.

  The hot water felt good, dissipating the aches and pains as effectively as if she had swallowed a few aspirin. She knew it wouldn't last, but that didn't matter. Rinsing the desert dust from her hair, she watched the yellow sand muddy the water. She noted a few new bruises, especially the one high on her chest. Since coming to Temptation, she had acquired a regular collection. Before the old ones faded, new ones would arrive elsewhere to take their place. Badges of honor, she told herself.

  Her stomach rumbled and she ignored it. Too late now, she chided silently. Besides she was too damn tired. She stepped dripping from the tub and grabbed the thin coarse towel from the metal rack beside the wash basin. She dried her hair quickly, sopping up as much of the excess water as she could. She threw on a robe and, clutching her few toiletries, stole out of the bathroom, leaving the door open to let the steam escape.

  All the rooms along the hall were dark and quiet. Most people were already asleep in their beds, resting peacefully, content in the belief that the Colonial Rangers would protect them. Debbi sighed. It was a big order to fill.

  Perhaps too big.

  She rubbed her face harshly, thinking back to the miners. No matter how she played the scenario in her mind, there had been no way to save them. She took some comfort in the words of her mother, who had been a skilled doctor, that you just couldn't save everyone. She wondered if Ross understood that. His disappointment still bothered her. It made her doubt herself. Maybe she wasn't cut out to be a Colonial Ranger.

  She entered her room and dropped her toiletries on the bed, plopping down beside them. An annoyed squeak at the headboard made Debbi turn. McDuff stared at her through slitted eyes, curled up and content between her pillows.

  "How did you get in here?" She picked up the cat. He growled lightly at being disturbed further. "Oh, get over it. You shouldn't have come in if you didn't want to be bothered." The big, long-haired, tortoiseshell tomcat settled down as soon as he hit her lap. As a reward, Debbi began rubbing her fingers along his jawline. The purring started immediately.

  It was then she noticed a tray of bread slices on her nightstand, smeared with rich, purple jam. A warm homey feeling rushed through her. Miss Etta always seemed to know just what Debbi truly needed despite her protests. Reaching over, she hungrily attacked the sweet, thick bread, and afterwards, let McDuff lick the excess jam from her fingers.

  Stretching back on the bed, propped up against the pillows, the covers pulled around her loosely, her mind returned to Ross.

  No matter what happened tomorrow, she had to be damn sure that she would handle whatever duty assigned her with a lot more skill than she had done today. Most likely he'd send her to track the creature.

  Her stomach immediately bottomed out at the thought of the hulking thing.

  Way to go, Debbi, she griped. Scare yourself before you hit the hay. Whatever that creature was, she knew somehow that it wasn't just a native animal. There was something else about it that continued to send shivers down her spine. There had been intelligence in its eyes.

  She was chilled by thoughts of her recurring nightmare. The trip through the dark memory of the Cabal's destruction seemed too similar to what had happened at the miners' camp to be a coincidence. But in her heart, she knew that's what it was, a coincidence. One of those weird events that seemed to say the brain knew more about what was coming than you could consciously access, but it could help prepare you for it against your will.

  She didn't think the creature she'd seen today had actually been on the space station. None of the other survivors from the station had seen or heard anything, so her reports of strange sounds and smells had been written off as a stress reaction. And the worst thing was, Debbi couldn't contest it. It could have been her imagination, and the smell— just the combination of hazardous gases filling the corridor with the stench of death and gore on top of that. It was no different than what she had experienced this afternoon. The smell of death in both instances had triggered a natural reaction of terror.

  No one knew what had hit the space station—pirates, a rival mining company. Not that it mattered. The station was nothing but a hunk of dead metal now. And her mother was gone with it.

  With a barely repressed shudder, she switched off the light. She lay in the darkness, thankful that McDuff was there. She felt him settle down at the foot of the bed. Of course, in a couple of hours he'd want to roam the house, meaning she'd have to get out of bed to open the door. She didn't care. For right now, it was comforting to know she wasn't alone in the darkness.r />
  Chapter 3

  "Come here and look at this."

  Debbi came into the office early the next afternoon and saw Ross squatting near the door to lockup, holding the rifle she had brought in the night before. He was staring at a round, metal dinner plate leaning against the wall. She dropped to one knee beside him as he picked up the plate.

  Imbedded in the plate were numerous black, metal needles, about three inches long, almost threadlike in appearance.

  Ross looked up at her expectantly. "What do you make of that?"

  Not sure how to answer, she took the plate and studied the small circle of needles.

  He went on. "Those fire out of this rifle attachment you brought back." He handed her the rifle and leaned the plate against the wall again. "Give it a shot."

  Debbi stood and took a few steps back, aiming the rifle at the plate. She felt Ross watching her. She thumbed the touch pad and heard a very faint metallic ping against the plate.

  "Needle gun." Ross picked up the plate. "I shot that damned gun fifty times this morning into the ground or against the wall before I hit something metal and heard a noise. I couldn't tell it was doing anything. Never saw any surface damage; never saw any needles sticking out. They penetrate anything this side of steel. But I can't see what damage they do." He drew a large knife out of his belt sheath and probed the needles. They didn't break.

  Debbi said, "Maybe they're poisonous."

  Ross pulled his knife away and put the plate on the desk. "I'll send a few to the Doc and see if he can test 'em."

  She tapped the four-inch square cube at the base of the needle tube. "This must be the ammo reservoir. Maybe the power supply. This is pretty high tech stuff. It's got to be Hellstromme Industries. They're the only one with the resources nowadays. But they closed their facilities and bugged out during the Worldstorm. Why would they send contraband guns down here?"

  "That's what you're going to find out," Ross said.

  Debbi looked up suddenly. "I was thinking I should go out and track the animal that killed the miners."