Tor (Women of Earth Book 2)

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Wynne's aching knees woke her from the drowsy state she'd fallen into through the repetition. She arose, winced as her stiffened joints straightened, and left the girl sleeping peacefully.

  She couldn't have been out that long. The group was still gathered around the table making plans that didn't seem that far along.

  "Will it fly?" Tor sounded like he'd asked the question before and was still waiting for an answer.

  "Can it?" Posy shrugged. "I don't see why not as long as the structural repairs hold." He started to rise when he saw Wynne. "How is she?"

  "No, don't get up. I need to stand and stretch out the kinks. She seems to be sleeping peacefully enough. I left the door open a crack so I'd hear her if it starts again. Don't let me interrupt," she told the others.

  "You already have," Ish told her.

  "They're talking about repairing the hopper to get us off this rock, but they don't know what kind of shape the engines are in," Mohawk told her, "Or if the repairs will hold."

  "We need a mechanic." Ish let her glare travel from Posy to Tor.

  "You have one. Where's the problem?" Wynne asked the group in general.

  "I don't want Truca involved, Wynne. She's had enough," Tor told her. "We can manage this without her. Mohawk will get you and Truca to the space station. You'll be out of it and Truca will get the care she needs. You'll make it clear she had nothing to do with this. She had no choice."

  "And what will you three be doing?"

  "Waiting for you to turn us in. They'll send someone for us. We'll take whatever craft they arrive in."

  "Adding what? Resisting arrest and theft of a cop car to the charges already pending? Are you guys crazy?"

  "This is what's best, Wynne. The galaxy is a big place with plenty of places to hide. Once we're out of here, we can work on finding the Sky Hawk and the rest of the crew."

  "No."

  "It's already been decided." Tor was firm.

  She appealed to Mohawk. "You said you'd help them. You said you were in."

  He wouldn't look at her. "My job is to get you safely to Mishra."

  "So you're going to put me in a whatever-you-call-it that may or may not be flightworthy, piloted by a ground trooper who doesn't know how to fly. No. It's my life and death we're talking about and I say no."

  "You're talking. We're not. We're done," Ish sneered. "You aren't part of this crew."

  "But Truca is," Wynne lashed back. "And you're a hypocrite, Ish."

  The chair hit the floor as Ish leapt to her feet. "What did you call me?"

  "A fraud, a hypocrite. Would you like me to spell it?"

  "Ish." Tor stood between them, his hand out to the Osana female, his back to Wynne.

  "I told you she wasn't a coward," Mohawk confided to Posy.

  "Or she has a death wish," Posy muttered back.

  Wynne ignored them and leaned to the side to look under Tor's outstretched arm. She wanted to see the other woman's face.

  "You say I coddle her. You want her to be strong, to fight back, to seek revenge, but here you are voting to take that chance away. Who's feeding her weakness now?" She turned to the two men, one beaming with a sharp toothed grin, the other trying not to smile. "Stop it. This isn't a cat fight. Ish and I aren't going to roll around in the mud. This isn't about us. It's about Truca. She's not your innocent little sister anymore. That's gone and she's forever changed. What hasn't changed is that she's still a member of this crew. She's your mechanic and from what I hear, she's a damn good one. You need her. All I'm asking is that you give her a say. She's earned a vote. She deserves one.

  "If she decides to work on the hopper, then you'll work with her. If she decides to go to the space station to get medical attention, then I'll go with her. You want what's best for her. I know that, but if she goes, it should be by choice. She's lost everything. Your love is all she has left." She gave a last look at Ish. "She has to know that whatever she decides, you'll stand with her."

  Ish slowly nodded her head in reluctant acknowledgement.

  "I won't fly in a ship Posy's patched up. He thinks a roll of magnito tape can fix anything."

  Truca stood in the door to the hall. She looked so small and fragile wearing a man's shirt that was much too large. Bare feet aided to the waif-like look.

  "Thank the gods and all their acolytes," Posy shouted. "I've been making a list of all the ways I could make a mess of it so someone would stop me. I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of two beautiful women. My reputation is bad enough."

  He crossed the room and held out his hand to take hers and welcome her into the room. Truca flinched at the gesture and stepped back. She closed her eyes.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, knowing her reaction wasn't normal. She'd hurt him. It was there in his eyes.

  The giant recovered quickly. "No. We'll have none of that. The fault is mine. I'll probably make the mistake again. I've missed your hugs. We'll get past it. We'll adjust, and someday when you're stronger we'll enjoy them again. You'll see, zinny miku, all will be well."

  "I can't be your pet anymore," she said. Her eyes were on Wynne.

  Posy was having none of it. "Wynne is wrong. Someday you will be old and grey and my beautiful blue will turn to ghastly ash, but you'll still be my zinny miku. What happened to you doesn't change that."

  "He's right, Truca, and I was wrong about that. I forgot some things don't change no matter how grown up we are. My father called me Winnie the Pooh until the day he died. It was his way of saying he loved me."

  Chapter 14

  They began work the next day. Wynne stayed out of the way. There were a few things she had no interest in. How things work was one of them. As far as she was concerned, the crew was speaking gibberish that wasn't included in her social translator.

  She spent her time preparing meals and searching rooms for credit chips Tor might have overlooked in his search for information and weapons. She found several under mattresses, taped to the bottom of drawers, and inside hollowed out knick-knacks that would be ignored by a casual observer. Honarie's crew didn't trust each other any more than Tor trusted their boss.

  She had no idea how much money she'd collected. She couldn't decipher the readouts on their faces. Stores in her hometown had only recently begun to accept the chips as legal tender. In one room, however, she hit the jackpot.

  She'd crawled under a bed to retrieve what in the dark looked like a box that turned out to be a balled up sock. It was a woman's room based on the clothing she found. As she was crawling out, cursing the woman's housekeeping skills, her elbow hit a board that squeaked and shifted with her weight. Beneath it she found a hoard of gold chains, jewel studded bracelets and rings, and gold pendants with embossed pictures on the front.

  Wynne carried one of the pendants to the window and tilted it toward the light. It looked like a stylized rendition of a man and a woman. She moved the pendant this way and that until their position became clear.

  "Holy crapoli." The thing bobbled in her hand and fell. She dove for it, caught it, and clenched it in her fist, then spread her fingers wide as if the couple depicted was real and what they were doing might contaminate her hand. Gingerly, she placed it on the windowsill and turned away, but not before she'd taken a second look.

  She picked up another. Like the first, the athletic couple was joined in a fascinatingly unique sexual position. She picked up another, and another, and after inspecting each, lined them up on the windowsill. Several were repeats, but most were one of a kind.

  "You'd have to be a contortionist to do that," she said of one. She brought it to her nose to see the details. Her sister had no problem sharing her sexual escapades, but she'd never mentioned anything like this.

  "Learn anything new?"

  Wynne screeched. The pendant went flying as she turned to Tor standing in the doorway.

  He snatched the ornament out of the air and turned it in his hand. "Well?"

  Wynne's hands were busy patting out the flames o
f embarrassment in her cheeks. "I found...They were...Hole...Bed." She finally caught her breath. "People don't really do that, do they?"

  Tor shrugged and hefted the gold in his hand. "You'll have to ask Ish." Her bugging eyes must have given away her astonishment. He laughed. "They're Osana marriage talismans. A girl is presented with her first on the day of her first menses. She keeps collecting until her marriage day."

  "No wonder the men are willing to fight her family."

  She hadn't meant it to be funny. He laughed anyway. He sifted through the jewelry, picked up one of the bracelets, inspected it, and shoved it in his pocket.

  "These must be Gisela's. Give them to Ish. She'll know what to do with them." He paused, thought for a moment, and then added, "She'll answer any questions you might have."

  Like she would ask Ish about anything. "Any questions I might have will remain unanswered."

  He nodded. "Good. The fewer expectations you have, the better I'll look." Tor turned and walked away, laughing at Wynne's open mouth.

  ~*~

  He had always liked quiet women, not quiet as in silent, but as the opposite of shrill and high strung. A quiet woman brought peace to a man's soul. Tor thought Wynne was such a woman. She had an easy acceptance of her situation and surroundings. She made people comfortable.

  On the ship, she never attended the after dinner parties. If she had, he might have had a chance to meet her without seeming too attentive. Every time he saw her, she was sitting quietly, back straight and ankles crossed, reading a book on a cheap looking handheld. He'd assumed it was part of her disguise.

  People stopped to talk to her, though she gave no indication that she wanted company other than offering a welcoming smile. Her home planet was new to the Confederation, so it was natural for others to be curious about the new addition called Earth. But why choose her over the other human women on the ship who were more gregarious and willing to socialize? At first he thought they were as aware of her ruse as he was. Rumor travelled quickly on luxury liners like the Romer II and a princess, no matter how she dressed, was an acquaintance worth making. After several days of observation, he realized it was more than that. It was the woman herself and it started with that smile.

  He liked to watch her talk with people. She looked them in the eye. She never even glanced or frowned at her handheld, though her visitors inevitably interrupted her reading. She smiled and nodded and they smiled back and no wonder. That smile made you feel it was just for you, and maybe it was. It made him feel good and he was watching from a distance and now that he'd seen it close up, he was sure of it. Her laughter was the same. There was no head-thrown-back with an open mouthed ha-ha-ha that showed off her back teeth. Wynne didn't care who else in the room noticed her enjoyment. She wasn't laughing to be noticed. She was laughing to share a joke with a friend.

  She was a pretty thing with her dark hair and eyes. She had a plump little backside that would draw attention from any man she passed, particularly now that she'd traded her ugly skirt for a pair of trousers that conformed to her curves. Her breasts were a pleasure to behold, soft and enticing. She tasted like a mixture of honey and wine, sweet and intoxicating. He wondered if all the women of Earth were like this one.

  When his original plan fell apart, a second plan had all but fallen into his arms; a princess in exchange for his ship. Then she'd cast her spell over him, just as she'd charmed those passengers on the ship. But there was more to her than a heart stopping smile.

  She didn't like being sheltered from the truth even when she didn't approve of it.

  "Why won't Ish let me feed the prisoners?" she'd asked him that morning. "She insists on feeding them herself."

  He'd raised his eyebrow, something women found either disconcerting or attractive. "You're complaining because she's saving you work?"

  "We're talking Ish here. She'd make more work for me if she could, not less. She barely said thank you when I handed her the bag of porno-pendants. And it's not only Ish, it's Posy, too. He blocks my path with stupid questions when he thinks I'm headed in the direction of the lab. He should have better things to do."

  He watched her carefully. "Why ask me?"

  "Because you're the captain of this crew and you should know."

  "And you think I don't?"

  "No, I think you do, so why won't someone tell me. Did you think I wouldn't figure out that they're dead? What would it matter if I thought it was wrong?"

  "Was it? What would you have us do, Wynne? Give them their day before the courts? Which one of us would you like to surrender to the authorities so they can testify? Truca? Would you like to see her rot in a cell because she asked for justice? We can't take them with us and we can't leave them here. You saw Truca's face when she saw them. You know their guilt."

  "His guilt. Ish had it in for the woman as soon as she saw her."

  "Their guilt," he repeated. "You've seen the marks on Truca's wrists. Does she have them on her shoulders, too? Look at Ish's fingertips. All Osana have nails like that, sharp as claws only they don't scratch, they gouge."

  Wynne's face went white and her eyes closed. She'd seen those marks, but hadn't made the connection. "You have no honor and therefor no rights," she said thoughtfully. "Ish was talking about the rape, wasn't she? She doesn't see any shame in being raped, but that doesn't mean she accepts the rapist. The marriage thing sounds harsh, but she sees it as ritual, an assessment of power, not rape."

  Tor nodded slowly, pleased that she could see the difference. But her questions went on.

  "Why did Posy interfere on the woman's behalf then?" She raised her hand to forestall his answer. She did this often and he was beginning to suspect that asking questions aloud was her way of arranging her thoughts. Usually, an answer followed.

  "He interfered on Truca's behalf," Wynne said, and then nodded to approve the answer she'd given to her own question. Sometimes she disagreed with herself. It was funny to watch her make her two sided arguments though Tor tried not to show it. "Posy was afraid Ish would kill the woman in front of the girl," she went on, "or worse, hand the knife to Truca and expect her to do the killing." She nodded again. "Bingo," she said.

  "Bingo?"

  "I win," she said, which only left him more confused. "Everything lined up," she added, which explained exactly nothing. "I still don't like it, but I understand it." She tapped her head. "I'm going to file it under Frontier Justice. We saw a lot of that early in the war. I didn't like that either. Death is waiting for all of us. I've never seen the point in helping it along."

  Tor was glad he didn't tell her what Posy used to do for a living.

  He also needed to be sure she asked no questions about his plans for their escape. He had a feeling she wouldn't like those either, but it was the only way that he could see to save the others from his mistake.

  It was Wynne that did it. She'd pulled him away from the tangled mess that was in his head. She'd made him laugh and speak of things he never would with anyone else. She'd worked her magic and brought him peace, a peace that tasted like honey and wine.

  And like magic, the plan began to form.

  His plan was a sound one, Tor reasoned. The small space station was no longer an option for drop off. He had no way of knowing if they had been alerted about the Sky Hawk's role in the Romer II attack. He was known at the station and once there, he would have no way off if they decided to keep him. He had to go planetside where he could land and quickly be gone. He would fly Wynne, Mohawk, and Truca to Celos and land in the desert outside the city. Mohawk would take it from there. The wily old warrior could handle whatever problems the city presented.

  That wasn't the way he presented it to the others, however.

  "Posy, I need you to figure the fastest route to Celos, not the station, the planet."

  "You know a hopper isn't built for that, Cap. The best you're going to get is to program in an aimpoint and pilot it in from there."

  "I want to get at least one run in under cover of d
arkness and the other as close as possible. Celos is hot as fire once the sun is up, and I don't want the attention of bringing us in too close. We're going to have to walk. What's between here and there?"

  "A whole lot of nothing if their shitty charts are accurate. There's one small body, not habitable if that's any help."

  "Is it big enough to give me an assist?" If he looped around it, the gravitational pull would act as a slingshot.

  "I suppose so. I'll do the figures. Can she take it?"

  Truca didn't lift her head to look at either of them. "She'll take it. I can lighten her up some, but you'll have to wear suits."

  "See to it. How about fuel? We have to make three runs, there, back, and there again."

  "We're good," Ish told him. "They've got enough cores in there to supply a fleet. If the hopper can stand the weight, we should take a few with us. They'll go for a good price on Celos."

  "We'll need them for ourselves. Truca?"

  "How many?"

  "As many as she can carry."

  "I can take out a seat."

  "Take out two, and don't forget to strap the cores tight. I don't want one punching a hole in my head."

  It was an old joke between them. Truca looked up, a small smile playing about her mouth and she looked like she might answer. Then the shutter fell over her face and she returned to watching a spot on the table. It wasn't much, but it gave Tor hope.

  "Wynne, Mohawk, and Truca will make the first run. I'll come back for you two on the second. Weapons come with you. Got that?"

  This time when the girl looked up it was with a look so painful it broke his heart. It made him wonder if she knew he was about to betray her again. She nodded.

  "I got it," she said.

  "We'll meet up in Southgate," he lied. "I'll give Mohawk the details. As soon as you're inside the gate buy something to cover the women, scarves, shawls, anything that can wrap their heads and cover their faces."

  Wynne waved her hand in the air. Tor had made contact with every face at the table except hers. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want to lie to her face. In another time and place, he would have wanted more time to find out why she asked questions of herself aloud, to discover what made her both sweet and intoxicating. Why could she, with simple chatter of drunken sisters and fathers who stomped out on the porch, bring back memories of things he hadn't thought of in years, and think of dreams that died a long time ago? In another time and place...