Erstwhile: A Sci-Fi Romance (The Jekh Saga Book 1)

by H. E. Trent

  Or am I up to version 3.0?

  Either way, she couldn’t spout off at the mouth and dig a deeper hole for herself. She needed to think forward and use at least a modicum of tact. She didn’t only have herself to worry about, but Kerry and the men, too.

  She drew in a long breath and let the river air soothe her lungs. She thought she smelled what Jekhans did. There was a sweet undercurrent to the river scent that reminded her of perfectly ripe fruit. If she breathed too shallowly—didn’t give her nostrils a fair chance to absorb all the notes—there was a sour smell nearly as tart as the expression on Reg’s face. The Terrans couldn’t even see what was there for all of their hurry-up-and-conquer maneuvering.

  “That doesn’t negate the fact you reneged on a contract.” He tapped her shoulder with the butt of his pulse pistol, but she stood firm. “I plan on you making good on your end of the deal.”

  “Perhaps you should re-read the same forms you signed. I signed a registration agreement and match recommendation. Not a contract, and I get the sneaking suspicion that you didn’t sign anything. I bet your boys on the inside gave you free run of the system, huh? Like every other corrupt agency in Buinet, money greases the wheels.”

  “It doesn’t make a difference what I signed or didn’t sign.” He grabbed her upper arm and yanked. “Let’s go.”

  She dug in her heels and jammed her elbow against his gut.

  He doubled over, sputtering.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I came down here to make that clear. You’re not going to bully me to get what you want, and if you think the McGarrys are so tired of the way we’ve been shunned and blacklisted that we’ll roll over and take it up the ass, you’ve got another think coming.”

  An impatient sigh pulled her gaze to the left.

  Festus stood with rifle at the ready, shaking his head at her. “Just one night. I’d like one fucking night when I don’t have to leave my house to do cleanup.”

  Reg scoffed and reached in to yank off Court’s hood. He twined her hair around his fist and yanked hard. “That’s what you’re paid for, so shut the fuck up about it.”

  “No, I’m a paid cop in command of a bunch of skeptical smart-asses who are starting to question every fucking order I give. Every goddamn day, there’s something new. The little kickback I get from you?” He sputtered his lips. “Peanuts. Not even the worth the frustration.”

  Reg pulled harder—so hard that she had no choice but to put her head back. She stared at the stars and tried to meditate the pain away. She couldn’t let the pain get in the way of good judgment. Obviously, there was some disruption in the ranks. If she could capitalize on that, she may be able to turn the situation to her advantage. If she could just get into that jail…

  Hope you’re ready down there, Allan.

  She swallowed and balanced her stance. She cleared her throat. “So, how’s your baby, Festus? Was it a boy or a girl?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Did you take the baby away from your maid? Toss it out like so much trash, or did your wife do that for you? Did the baby come out too white and she got suspicious, maybe?”

  Reg loosened his grip on her hair in time for Festus to slap her hard across the face.

  She blew blood out of her nose and swiped her sleeve across her wet mouth. “I’m right, aren’t I? She wanted to know whose baby it was. Did you lie and tell her some other man raped the maid, or did she put two and two together?”

  He smacked her again, so hard she saw a different kind of stars. Fortunately, the McGarrys tended to be a hardheaded lot.

  “I guess I should consider it an honor you’d hit me as if I were a man.” She was talking more for Erin’s benefit than for Festus—so she’d know what was going on with all that sickening noise. She’d know the exact moment when things went sideways. “That means you consider me an equal opponent.”

  “You’re nothing but trash, and you align yourself with trash. Your whole family does.”

  “And what’s that to you, Festus? What does a few people in the world not wanting to screw up the lives of some folks who want more than anything to be left alone to live their lives have to do with you? Is this mess about putting more money in your pockets?” She threw her hands up. “Where the fuck are you going to spend it on Jekh? Huh? What are you going to buy? Pussy and weed?”

  Reg gave her a poke with his gun, and she swatted the firearm away, through with his shit. She turned on him, too. “I know you’re all tied up in the shady dealings going on in this city, too. What else would you be trading? I know you’re sure as shit not selling native commodities. That’s why there are no fucking Jekhan women left, am I right? The ones that aren’t dead or nearly dead are gone. Where’d you send ’em, huh?”

  She gave him a hard shove and read on his pallid face that he was too stunned to respond. She shoved him again, back toward the wall.

  “Same Terran shit, different century. History has a way of repeating itself because evolution is too. Fucking. Slow.”

  One more shove, and the backs of Reg’s knees hit the edge of the wall. He flailed his arms for balance, but Court wasn’t going to let him get it. She swiped his chin in an uppercut like Owen had taught her when she was fifteen and sent Reg falling back into the river, gun and all.

  Festus grabbed her around the waist, pulled her back, and thrust the butt of his rifle against her skull.

  She fell to her knees, vision fogging as he sighed yet again.

  “Sick of cleaning up his shit,” he muttered. “I hope you die in prison.”

  “As if I’d…make…your life…that easy.” Her face hit the ground, but when it did, there was smile on it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Trig was lurking in an air vent over the prisoner processing area when he saw an unconscious Court dragged in between two guards.

  Fuck! What did she do?

  If he hadn’t known any better, he’d think she’d gotten herself brought in on…

  …On purpose.

  “Dammit, woman.” He pounded his fist against his knee and followed overhead as the LEOs bypassed booking altogether and tossed her into a cell with Brenna, who huddled in corner away from the others.

  The LEO slammed the door and Brenna perked up. She waited until the uniforms walked away and hurried over to her fallen friend.

  Court opened her eyes and gave Brenna a quelling wave.

  Trig clutched his chest.

  She was fine.

  “Murk oughta spank her good for that,” he muttered. “Maybe I’ll even do it myself.” She’d owe him for the fright she gave him.

  He made a tight turn and turning back to general population housing.

  Apparently, he and Owen would need to be a little more careful on the way out.

  ___

  “Don’t move around too much,” Brenna whispered. “If you were injected with the same stuff we all were, the compulsion is to thrash when you wake. I banged up the back of my head pretty badly.”

  Court sighed as Brenna—with glasses lenses cracked and cheeks covered in healing scratches—came into focus. Court peered to the left at the older Jekhan woman who alternately looked between Court’s face and her bracelet. My com is missing. Go figure. The LEOs probably couldn’t figure out how to get the bracelet off without taking Court’s hand along with it.

  “I’m okay, hon.” She wriggled her fingers, happy to still have them.

  The woman tapped the wagon wheel engraved on the top and whispered something in Jekhani that didn’t seem directed to anyone in particular.

  “I wasn’t injected.” Court sat up, slowly, and shook her head. “Pistol-whipped.” To the Jekhan woman, she said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand Jekhani. Most people I’ve met have spoken at least a little English.”

  The woman looked around, evidently spotted who she sought in the cell’s corner, and hissed some command at her. The woman, younger by decades, poked her head out of the blanket she’d shrouded hersel
f in. “What, Mother?” she said in Jekhani. Court could understand those simple words.

  The older woman pointed to and patted the floor beside her.

  The younger woman sighed, hitched up her holey blanket, and shuffled over.

  The older woman spat some rapid-fire Jekhani that had her daughter rolling her eyes and making a get on with it gesture.

  Court stifled a smirk. The girl had to be a teenager. Probably eighteen or nineteen. Court had been exactly the same way.

  The mother stopped speaking, gave her daughter a poke, and the girl sighed.

  “Mother says you are a friend to Jekhans and that we should assist you as much as we are able. She goes on to say some other things, but I won’t bother translating them because they’re a load of gibberish out of context, so do pretend that I’m saying something intelligent. I’m not sure what she thinks we can do for you in here.” She gave Court a long blink.

  Brenna chuckled and leaned her back against the bunk behind her. “I think saying Court is a friend to Jekhans would be a minor understatement. She has a Jekhan baby.”

  One of the girl’s eyebrows inched up. Her skin was dark like her mother’s, eyes an orangey shade that without Tyneali genetic influence might have been just amber. “And where is that Jekhan baby now?”

  “Safe with her father. Far from here.”

  “Her.” She nodded. “That’s good. Not too many little girls around here to speak of. If you’re lucky, her father has a violent streak as long as the River Buinet that’ll flare up when she’s threatened.” She let out a dry chuckle. “My father had no such streak. Few of the men do. They say we’re all insufferable and can’t be lived with, and yet they can’t step up when the time is right.”

  Court cut Brenna a sideways look.

  Brenna widened her eyes a smidgen in an expression Court had come to know as we’re on the same page.

  Court looked back to the young woman. “That hasn’t been my experience overall with Jekhan men. The ones I’ve encountered have been quite brave. They can work up a temper when they need to.”

  “Huh. Lucky you. How many rocks did you have to turn over before you found them?”

  “Not a rock. I just opened a closet door.”

  “What?”

  Court shook her head. “Long story.”

  Groaning, she rolled over onto hands and knees and pushed herself to standing. She walked to the clear plastic wall dividing the small cell from the hallway and pressed her hands to it. The cell faced another wall—one made of brick—and she couldn’t see anything in either direction. The walkway probably snaked around three sides with the back of the cell abutting another block. If they couldn’t see other prisoners, they couldn’t make plans or even hope to find peers they may have been separated from. Psychological segregation.

  “We’re the only women in here,” Brenna said as if reading her thoughts. “Just us six.”

  Court put her back to the wall and scanned the room, and counted. Besides Brenna and Court and the two Jekhan women they’d been conversing with, there were two other women huddled on the benches and beds. Too dejected to care anymore, probably, as they didn’t even look up when Court arrived.

  “I suppose we six are the only merry murderesses they could catch, huh?”

  Brenna chuckled at the old Chicago musical reference and sang the first line of the retributory refrain under her breath.

  The young woman’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t murder anyone.”

  “It’s a joke,” Brenna said. “Maybe one day you’ll get to see that film and find out why it’s funny.”

  “What were you charged on?” Court asked the girl.

  She shrugged. “Bullshit, as you Terrans would say. What’s a bull, by the way?”

  “A large male cow. Big, beefy livestock.”

  “Oh.” She shuddered, as if from distaste. “Mother used to work for the Mauren family as a nanny.”

  Ah. So that’s why she’d recognized the wagon wheel.

  “When the first Earth forces landed, we went into hiding with my fathers. They went on a run for supplies and didn’t come back in the time they usually did. I ventured out to try to find out why and saw them speaking in hushed tones with some policeman. Casual, you know? Like they knew each other. They spotted me, and I ran. Went back to our hiding spot to get Mother and the boys, and we moved on to the next place. Of course, they didn’t need long to catch up.”

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “I’m twenty now, so four years. The charge was obstructing justice, I think. Not sure whose justice, but anyway. Before you ask, no, I don’t know where my little brothers are.”

  “Family betrayal,” Brenna said quietly. “Leaves such an interesting taste in the mouth, doesn’t it?”

  Court dragged her hand over her greasy face and let out a breath. “Shit, that’s right. Why’d your brother sell you out like that? I thought you said you trusted him.”

  Brenna gave the barest hint of a shrug. “I thought I could. Maybe he’s a coward, too. He came to visit a couple of weeks ago, but I wouldn’t see him.”

  “I probably wouldn’t have, either.”

  “My mother sent some inquiries from Earth. Probably more than they’ve passed on to me, but there’s nothing she can do from there. She doesn’t have any pull. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid, like try to come here.”

  “Like my siblings?” Court chuckled. “We’ll try to get a message out to her as soon as we can to let her know you’re okay.”

  “Good. So, what’s the plan? You wouldn’t have let yourself end up in here if you didn’t have a plan.”

  “You’re right. People know I’m in here.”

  “So, we’re waiting for rescue?”

  “We’re not damsels in distress. We’re not waiting for rescue. We’re waiting for the right time to act and for the right actors to get into their places. I don’t know what the scene is or who’s directing it, but when our time comes for us to step out on the stage, I’m confident will be able to put on a good show.”

  “Those words are English, but I have no idea what you’re saying,” the young woman said.

  Brenna gave her shoulder a playful nudge. “She’s saying ‘follow my lead’.”

  “And you trust her?”

  Brenna scoffed. “Gotta trust someone. Who better than a McGarry?”

  “McGarry?” The young woman’s nose crinkled. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  ___

  The next afternoon, Trig, with his back to the rest of the barracks, waited as Owen rolled the note into a tight tube.

  “They’re going to do everything they can to keep us separated so I don’t find out Court’s here,” Owen said. “They’re already holding me back during lunch for extra chores, probably to keep me out of her orbit.”

  Trig took the paper and tucked it into a fold in his shirt. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the message to her.”

  The programmed chime went off and the prisoners lined up at the doors to be escorted to the cafeteria. Trig fell in line at the back and contrived a relaxed, casual demeanor—the opposite of how he actually felt. If he couldn’t pass off that message, they’d need to figure out some other way to put the uprising in motion.

  He let out a relieved exhalation to find the women’s line passing, only to stop breathing altogether to see Court barely walking and being propped up between two people with her head hanging low. Brenna bore half her weight, and a young Jekhan woman the other.

  That murderous heat that was becoming so familiar to him lately rose up again. If she wasn’t okay—if they’d injured her again—Murk wouldn’t be the only one with blood on his hands.

  Now or never.

  “Don’t prop her up, sister,” he said to the young woman. He stormed over and tucked the note beneath Court’s bracelet, berating her all the while. “Wake up, honey,” he whispered, and said loud and clear, “Let the Terran scum fall to the floor where she belongs.” He added in a fe
w words in Jekhani just for flair. Seemed like something Murk would have done.

  Court let out a quiet laugh and whispered. “Scum, huh? I’ll get you for that later. I’m okay. Just acting.”

  “Thank the stars.” He wanted to grab her—squeeze her—but some guard yanked him by the back of his shirt and put him back in the food queue.

  “Stay in the line or I’ll send a hundred volts through you, shithead."

  Trig grumbled some nonsense words under his breath in Jekhani and kept moving.

  She was okay and had her wits about her.

  Good.

  Typical Court, thinking ahead. She really did bring out the best in him. The best of the human in him, anyway. He couldn’t say about the Tyneali parts yet. They’d been arguing about those for months, and probably would for some time to come.

  He looked forward to it. Arguing with her and loving her. He needed to get her back to the farm first.

  Now all he and Owen needed to do was set the charges and light the spark.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  So much noise. Chaos.

  The women in the small cell looked up, but there was nothing to see.

  “So it begins,” Brenna murmured.

  Fastida hurried over from her mother, still clutching that holey blanket around her body, and knelt next to Court and Brenna. “The others said they won’t go. They’re afraid to. They think they’re safer here.”

  Court shrugged. “That’s their choice. I’m not into rescuing people without their consent. Some people are more comfortable with being victims than others, and we don’t have time to change their mentality.”

  “Mother and I will do our parts. We won’t get in the way.”

  “Just make sure you both stay close. If we get separated—”

  Fastida put up her hands. “I understand. If we get separated, stars willing, we will find you again in Orinot.”

  As Court had predicted, a few LEOs ran around to the cell and put their backs to the door, guarding it from a rush.

  Court nodded at Brenna, who lifted her mattress and slipped out the spoons she’d stolen from the mess hall. As far as weapons went, spoons were inferior to practically everything, but pressed between knuckles in a fist, they could increase the receiver’s pain exponentially. Blind them, even. Brenna handed one to each of them, and they tucked them into their sleeves.