For Texas and Zed

by Zach Hughes

  For Texas and Zed

  Zach Hughes

  ForTexasand Zed by Zach Hughes

  Chapter One

  "Well, sirs, you swing down the Orion Arm with the fires of a sun in your belly, point out in the plane of the disc toward Carina and turn right to Puppis. Beacon blink on the RR Lyrae stars near Orion past the black hole in Taurus. When you see the Beta Canis Majoris on the left you blink on the giant Cepheid on an angle of thirty-five to the galactic ecliptic to Auriga and after that it's a matter of blinking by the seat of your pants."

  "And, as I follow your rather poetic instructions," said Jum Anguls, First Leader, Ursa Major Sector, "you end up in nowhere."

  "In the big lonesome," Murichon Burns said. "The boonies. The outback."

  "Are we wasting the gentleman's time?" asked the lady, with an imperious stare aimed in Murichon's direction. She wore stylish starcloth, spangled, transparent, her tipped mammaries soft peaks pushing against the frail material.

  Anguls chuckled, crossing his tightly clad, fleshy thighs. "When dealing with provincials—" He winked at Murichon. "Gwyn has so little patience, you see. They move swiftly on the old Earth."

  "To talk in specifics when dealing with honest traders is expected," Gwyn said, forcing her full lips into a semblance of a smile. Her eyes, in her dark face, were glowing jewels, slanted upward. Her skin had the richness of satin-deep space, but lighter, tending to creamy brown, the complexion of the mother planet. In contrast to her, to the white softness of the skin of Jum Anguls, Murichon was reddened, roughed, weathered. His rough spacecloth, dull blue, against the richness of the others' clothing, seemed rude. Yet he was at ease while Anguls chewed a fingernail and looked at him askance and the female blinked at him through force-grown lashes of half an inch length.

  "The Republic is not asking for inclusion on the Empire's star maps," Murichon said. "I am here to sell meat. If you're buying, fine. If not—"

  Murichon looked out the huge expanse of window and saw the city below, alive, blinking, moving. Trails of fire where arcs lit the lanes, flashes of color as ad-signs lured and promised, the movement of traffic at ten levels, all below, crawling up in whites and reds in the foothills and then abating in density as the galaxy itself thinned toward home. And as he looked b could imagine, hear in his mind, the din, the roar, the sigh and moan of millions crowded into small spaces and his heart flew the countless parsecs and yearned for the Bojacks of Texas, the trackless plains with the grazing herds, the wide sky, the soft caress of the winds of home.

  "We are, of course, buying," Anguls said, "but I think the Lady Gwyn has a point. We do not intend to take delivery on meacr steaks dehydrated to the point of cured leather or softened to carrion."

  "You ate," Murichon said. The table testified to that. He'd grilled the steaks himself, after picking them at random from the selection he'd brought in on theTexas Queen . "Quick-frozen. In transport for thirty-two standard days—"

  "Via Orion and Taurus and the third Cepheid on the left," Lady Gwyn said.

  "I know a shortcut," Murichon grinned. He turned, bellowed. The loud call startled the Lady Gwyn, causing her to spill a drop of goodRio Grandewine on the tiny skirt of her costume. She frowned, reached for a napkin. She paused in mid-motion, the spilled wine forgotten, as a tall, young man appeared in the doorway, tray in hand. He, too, was dressed in space blue. However, it was not his attire which froze the Lady Gwyn into admiring immobility for a second, and then sent her long lashes fluttering.

  "My son," Murichon said. "He's called Lex."

  "Lex," the Lady Gwyn breathed.

  Lex himself had not recovered as quickly as Gwyn. His face, already showing the character lines, the weathering, was flushed, his eyes locked on the area of brown skin showing above the low neckline of Gwyn's costume.

  "Won't you join us?" Jum Anguls said.

  Lex looked down from his six foot seven inch height and raised his eyebrows in question toward Murichon, waiting. When Murichon nodded he moved, saying, "Sure," to place the tray and its steaming contents at table center and then to swing one long blue-clad leg over a chair and ease his weight down with a soft thump.

  "Your manners, boy," Murichon said.

  " 'Scuse me, ma'am," Lex said, not sure what he'd done wrong.

  "Now this," Murichon said, "is meacr steak which was frozen sixty days before lift-off. That ages it to over ninety days."

  "My dear fellow," Anguls said, rubbing his distended belly, "I don't know about the appetite of you, what do you call yourselves?Texasmen?"

  "Texicans," Lex said, speaking as he speared a steak on a fork and flopped it onto his plate.

  "But the ample size of our previous repast," Anguls said.

  "Just a taste," Murichon said.

  "Ah, well." Anguls sighed, cut a dainty portion with delicate, long-nailed hands. He lifted the bite to his lips, after sniffing it, chewed thoughtfully. "The preservation process seems to be quite effective."

  Allowing for transshipment to other systems, using your warehouses as a distribution point, you'd have six months to receive, sell and distribute before there would be any noticeable deterioration in quality," Murichon said.

  "Sometimes out on the plains we keep it without cooling for a month," Lex said, talking around a cheekful of meat. "Gets a little ripe—"

  "Please," Gwyn said, frowning.

  "Course, you can dry it in the sun," Lex said. "Makes it chewy. Keep it all winter that way."

  "As to terms," Anguls said. "As you may or may not know, a minimum of sixty percent of total shipments would have to be carried in Empire hulls. This is a basic requirement, you know, over which I have no control. Price? On that I am more flexible."

  "Negative," Lex said, putting his fork down with a clatter. "I'll handle this, boy," Murichon said. "No Empire ships onTexas," Lex said, his voice cold. "Will you shut up?" Murichon roared. "Sorry, Dad, but—" "But me no buts, just shut up, enjoy the view and eat." He had not missed the fact that his son's eyes

  seemed glued to the red-painted nipples of the Lady Gwyn's mammaries. "No Empire hulls," he said, looking deep into Jum Anguls' watery eyes.

  That's what I just said, Dad," Lex said. "Impossible," Gwyn said, letting her eyes leave Lex's bulging arm biceps for a moment. "Our Space Guilds would not hear of it."

  "Way I hear it," Murichon said, "your Space Guilds are hungry, too. But that's it. You've got the price. You've got the terms. Delivery on Leader Anguls' site inTexashulls. Payment in acceptable metals. No paper. No credits."

  "Mr. Burns, what you propose is not only impossible, it's absolutely inane," Anguls said, his face serious.

  "Are you implying that the coinage of the Empire is not stable?" "I ain't implying anything," Murichon said. "But we damned sure can't spend Empire paper onTexas." He rose. "Well, it's been a long day."

  The two Empire people, accustomed to long, leisurely meals followed by stimulants, looked up, shocked by such discourtesy. Gwyn, glancing at the First Leader, saw danger in his face. Quickly she put her hand on his arm. "We are not dealing with civilized men," she whispered, as they rose together. Anguls coughed back his anger and nodded.

  "I will deliver your terms to our Economic Board," Anguls said. "I do not offer, however, any hope of

  their being accepted." Murichon shrugged. "Cassiopeian metals aren't as good as yours, to be frank, but they aren't slaves to their Guilds." He yawned massively, not bothering to cover it. "Lex, you wanta show the good folks out?"

  "Yeah, in a minute," Lex said, stuffing his mouth, wiping it on the back of his hand, rising while chewing and swallowing. "You turning in, Dad?" "It's been a long day, as I said."

  "Mind if I go down the hill?" Lex asked, hitching at his low-hanging jeans.


  "Don't want you out raising hell among the civilized folks," Murichon growled. "Like turning a Bojack farl loose in a flock of meacrs." Anguls bristled anew. "He'd be quite safe in our city, sir." "Ain't him I'm worried about," Murichon said. "Perhaps," the Lady Gwyn said, "your father would feel more at ease if you had a qualified guide."

  "You offering?" Murichon asked, his brows lifting to show his steel-blue eyes. "I'm, uh, offering," she said, smiling toward Lex, who was standing with his hands thrust into his back pockets.

  Murichon roared. "Well!" Anguls sputtered. "Hell, you got diplomatic immunity, I guess," Murichon said. "Just don't drink anything you wouldn't feed

  to a beagle and remember that civilized folks can be breakable." He turned, walked three paces, paused. "And put on some decent clothes. You want civilized folks to think you're working a meacr dip?" Left alone, the two Empire citizens felt awkward. They were unaccustomed to being kept waiting.

  "Arrogant barbarians," Jum Anguls growled. "I find them charming," Gwyn said. "You'd find anything over two inches charming," Anguls said. "Quality, darling," she said, blinking her long lashes. "Not quantity." "At least you're thinking," Anguls said. "If anyone can get information out of that big oaf you can." "Thank you." "I want the coordinates," Anguls said. "Exact and complete. If they have as many of those animals as

  they say—"

  "Remember our research team's report, my dear First Leader. By historical fact, all Texicans are pathological liars when it comes to facts about their country, their possessions, their natural resources." "Divide it by half and it's worth sending a fleet," Anguls said. Lex came out buttoning multiple pearl-like studs on a dark wine jacket-shirt which hung past his waist,

  loose. His jeans were of shiny silken material, tight at the thighs, flared at the ankles. The Lady Gwyn, measuring the heroic scale of his body, put her soft hand on his arm, guided him out the doorway onto a marble balcony with a magnificent overlook. Lex wasn't interested in scenery. His eyes were traveling the graceful curve of her neck, down to the soft, dark valley between two red-tipped peaks.

  Guards sprang to stiff attention, presented arms. An atmospace convertible clanged entry ramp down, lights glowed from within. Anguls, with a look at the Lady Gwyn, trod regally upward the slight slope and disappeared within. Guards followed. Escort fighters orbited the larger vessel as it lifted.

  "First," Gwyn said, still hanging onto Lex's arm, "I must go to my villa."

  "We gonna do the town, we oughta get started," Lex said.

  "Dressed like this?"

  "I like it."

  "That's sweet." She stood on tiptoe and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. "But you'll like my town costume, too."

  "You don't mind driving, I hope," Lex said as they entered the vehicle provided by the Empire for VIP guests of the diplomatic villa atop the mountain. "I'm not used to so many people."

  Lady Gwyn's villa was also in diplomatic country, a five-minute flight from the guesthouse which housed theTexasdelegation headed by Murichon Burns. Once there, she surreptitiously punched a signal button which warned her domestics to stay in their quarters until further notice, escorted Lex into a luxurious room overlooking the city, filled his big hand with a deceptively mild-tasting concoction.

  "Do you really like my costume?" she asked, posing before him, much of Lady Gwyn on display.

  "I love it," he said. "Wish I could get one to take home to my girl."

  "Is she as heroically formed as you?" Gwyn said.

  "If you mean is she bigger than you she is." Hell, all Texas women were bigger. That was a part of her fascination. She stood no taller, he estimated, than five and a half feet. Her waist was startlingly small.

  "If she isn't much larger she could wear this," Gwyn said, pushing the costume down off her shoulders, doing it slowly, tantalizingly. Lex's eyes got larger as the red-tipped mounds were revealed; then ever larger as she let the filmy garment drift downward, freeing it from her flaring hips with a seductive wiggle. She was clean-shaven. From hairline to toe she was of a uniform creamy brown.

  She bent her knees, retrieved the garment, put it into his hand. It held her warmth. "Would you give her this as a gift from me?"

  "Sure," Lex said, swallowing. Actually he didn't have a girl, wasn't old enough to claim one of the cozen or so nubile women in his county. He'd been thinking of buying one of the revealing garments just to prove to the boys that Empire women wore such things.

  The costume had the light, fragile feel of a Texas girl's undergarment. Once, in Dallas City, he'd held such a garment In his hands with great and breathless anticipation. Once and only once he'd seen a woman in the gloriously nude state in which the Lady Gwyn stood so casually before him. He felt his chest constricting. All of the mucous membranes of his body were constricting, all erectile tissue engorging itself with his hot blood.

  The Lady was not oblivious to his interest. With a pulse-pounding grace she moved toward him. "Darling, do you really want to go into the city?"

  Lex swallowed.

  "It's just a city, you know."

  He tried to give orders to his hands.Be Still. Down . His hands had minds of their own and then were full of softness, heat, smoothness.

  "Ah," she said, "you don't want to leave our nice villa, do you?"

  "Nope," Lex said.

  And that was the last of conversation.

  Even when, in a twisting, relaxing heap of moist limbs and sweetness she breathed into his ear and asked him about his home. Even when, after a few more of those fine-tasting but deceptive drinks, he felt the world tilt and knew great and revived strength and she played coy. Even when his superior strength forced her and brought a sigh of inevitable resignation to her soft lips.

  "It must be a wonderful place, your planet," she said, as dawn came through the open windows and showed the dark circles of lovely dissipation under her eyes.

  "Yeah," he said, just before he put pressure on her carotid arteries. She struggled, fear in her eyes, and then went quietly to sleep as her brain was deprived of oxygen.

  When he carried the large, limp bundle past the guards at the spaceport he could feel her breathing as she lay inertly across his shoulder. The crudeness of his first method of immobilization had been followed by the administration of a harmless tablet used by spacemen to enforce sleep quickly during the endless shifts of blink travel. The diplomatic badge he wore warded off any search, even in such a sensitive area as a deep spaceport. At the ship, his fellow Texicans, if they had curiosity, showed none. As acting First Officer, he enjoyed the relative luxury of a six-by-eight private cabin. There, he looked at his prize, nude, lithe, breathing deeply and evenly. He smoothed her jet-black hair on the polydown pillow. It would be close quarters on the trip home, but it would be worth it. His supply of dozers would hold out until the Queen was well past the Cassiopeian lines, and then it would be too late to turn back to the Empire. He would present his father with an accomplished deed.

  He felt the efforts of the night all at once, and he yawned mightily. Locking the cabin door behind him, he went to crew's quarters and showered, heedless of the waste of water since the ship was in port. Then, with a glad feeling for his companion, he bent his body around the frailness, the creamy brown richness, the heat, the softness and slept the sleep of the tired conqueror.

  He woke to the sound of the ship's power, an all-pervading hum, an awareness, a prickling of the skin. Next to him, the Lady Gwyn slept peacefully, her lips parted sweetly. He kissed them, then held her in his arms as he gave her water and a dozer. Dressed in ship's wear, he went to the bridge.

  "Big night?" Murichon Burns asked absently, as his eyes followed an intricate pattern of meters and instruments. The ship was almost to lift power.

  "Big enough," Lex said. "We leaving?"

  "How did you ever figure that out?"

  "You heard from the great leader, then?"

  "We'll hear from him via blinkstat from a few parsecs out," Murichon said. "I'll feet better abou
t it that way."

  A soft bell sounded the readiness of the ship's power. As Murichon's hands played over the console the hum of the plant changed, became a bee's song.

  "Texas Queen," a voice said on the sound system, "you do not have clearance to charge."

  "I'm taking clearance," Murichon said, without activating the broadcast unit. "Read me clearance one-one-hundredth unit vertical vector," he told Lex.

  "Traffic as thick as parasites on a molting meacr," Lex said. "Depth and layers."

  "Find me a hole, boy. We're going into it."

  It was risky business. It was a busy planet and an active spaceport. Inbound and outbound, the starships, the interplanetary craft, the privates and atmoflyers cluttered the screens.

  "The button's yours," Murichon said, giving way to the superior reflexes of the young. "When you find a hole, hit it."

  "Texas Queen, Texas Queen," the control voice said, "you will decharge immediately."

  "Now," Lex said, the screen giving him a small vertical hole which, the computers estimated, would be open for a millisecond, and the button was punched as he spoke and there was a feel of intimate and disturbing events in his gut as he looked out on the blackness of space with Polaris off the starboard quarter and depressed at an angle of seventy.

  "I'll take her, boy," Murichon said. "We'll likely have company for a while."

  Company they had. She signaled her blinking from outside the planet's atmosphere and emerged into space a telescope's shot away, a sleek and deadly Empire Vandy, painted the black of space but visible as theQueen's autos homed in on her. Aboard was Fleet Captain Arden Wal, veteran of the Battle of Wolfs Star, graying, slim, impeccable in his gold and black. As theTexas Queen moved at sub-light speed, charging for a big blink, Wal had time to report. He was near enough to use voice transmission, scrambled, of course. "As you suspected, sir, the bird flew prematurely."

  "You're with her?" The voice was the smooth, cultured one of First Leader Jum Anguls.

  "We have her, sir. We'll stay with her."

  "Not too close."

  "Of course, sir."