Wings of Retribution (Millennium Potion)

by Sara King

  “She’s a raging bitch! I say good for him!”

  Rabbit shrugged. “If you want to go find him, you can, but Retribution leaves dock in three hours. With or without you.”

  Dallas was dumbfounded. “You’d leave him behind? After he helped you?”

  “The man turned on us. Frankly, I don’t think he’s suited for pirating. If he had a chance to sing to the Utopia to get his job back, I’d give him a ninety percent chance of learning the opera. On top of that, I’d give him a thirty percent chance of being undercover Utopi. I run twenty-two casinos on T-9. Probabilities are my forte.”

  He’s right, you know, Stuart said.

  But Dallas wasn’t listening. “It takes twenty minutes to shuttle planetside,” she growled. “How do you expect me to find him and get back here in three hours?”

  “Frankly, I don’t. I was planning on leaving him somewhere after we got Attie anyway.” He returned his attention to the vidscreen and selected a red star, seemingly at random.

  Careful, Dallas, Stuart warned. Rabbit’s like Athenais. He doesn’t say things like that lightly.

  Dallas’s jaw stiffened. They’re not doing the same thing to Howlen they did to me. I won’t allow it.

  Then you’d better hurry.

  “I want my last six weeks’ pay. Right now, in case I don’t come back.”

  Rabbit glanced up. “That’s eighteen thousand credits. Why do you need them?”

  “Just give them to me.”

  Rabbit shrugged. “Fine, but as soon as you leave the ship, I’m changing the override codes. Too dangerous for me if Howlen’s undercover and they interrogate you.”

  “Fine,” Dallas said, hands fisting. “Do what you have to do.”

  He gave her a long, solemn look, then nodded. “As you wish.”

  Dallas stumbled into the hub in a daze. Behind her, the ship’s airlock slammed shut. She flinched.

  Calm down, Dallas, Stuart said. I’ve been here before. I’ll help you.

  “Yeah, but how are we going to find him?” Dallas whimpered. “We’ve got a whole city.”

  The first thing they would’ve done is move him to another city before offering him for sale. If they’re professionals, it can take less than an hour to get him in another province and equipped with a fake tag.

  “Oh, great!” Dallas snapped. “So that leaves the whole planet!” She looked up and realized that the group of vendors were staring at her, keeping their distance, undoubtedly noting that she had come out of the same door as the bitchy space pirate.

  First off, get to the shuttle. We don’t have much time.

  “Yeah,” Dallas muttered. She strode past the wary vendors and into the shuttle hub.

  Take one for Jeriah province. It’s close to the Blue District, but does not uphold extradition or fugitive laws from other provinces.

  “Where the hell’s the Blue District?” Dallas demanded.

  That’s where Athenais and Rabbit would have gone to look for the shifters, Stuart said at the same time a bored shuttle attendant said, “The Blue District’s for the fine slaves. You don’t go there unless you’re somebody who’s got a few thousand credits to spend or somebody who wants to steal them.” He pointed to a door. “Shuttle Seven.”

  “What about the Jeriah province?” Dallas asked.

  The attendant squinted at her. “Little thing like you, you don’t wanna go there, miss. Believe me. Outsiders don’t belong there.”

  “I want to go,” Dallas insisted.

  “Why are you even going planetside?” the attendant asked. “One of the other provinces will have what you’re looking for.”

  “Jeriah,” Dallas insisted.

  The man shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, miss.” He nodded at another door. The floor around it looked barely worn. “Twenty credits. Bigger fee ‘cause nobody goes there. Not outlanders, anyway.”

  “Thanks,” Dallas said. She strode to the door, offered up her credit coin for the fee, and then returned it to her pocket and climbed into the empty cab as the autopilot waited for more passengers. Ten minutes later, with no more fares, she held on as the autopilot closed the airlock and dropped them into the atmosphere.

  We’ve got two and a half hours to get back, Dallas.

  “I know that,” she muttered.

  Landfall in three minutes Standard, an automated male voice said. Please exit with all of your belongings. Unclaimed luggage will be destroyed upon discovery.

  Dallas frowned. “That bad, huh?”

  Jeriah is home to criminals, ecoterrorists, and every neurological disorder humans can contract, Stuart replied. Port Authority likes to stay on the safe side.

  Dallas thought of the neurological disorder she was bringing to the province and she smirked.

  When the shuttle landed, Dallas disembarked and went into the decontamination room. She stripped, gave her clothes and credit coin to the guard on duty, and stepped into the man-sized black booth. Behind her, the locks clicked shut, as they had in every decontamination booth she had ever entered. This time, however, she felt a stab of panic and almost tried forcing her way back out.

  Don’t worry, Stuart assured her, pulling her hand away from the door. Stay calm. Just stand normally or they’ll know something’s wrong. The only planets that still scan for suzait are Millennium and Jonin.

  “Jonin? Never heard of it. It military or something?”

  Jonin was a colony planet that my kind populated in an attempt to escape the One Species charter. Of course, humans didn’t know we had populated it, and they put their own colonies down. After being stuck for many years in near-animal hosts, some of my kind got the taste of human versatility and they switched from the planet’s native fauna. The fever spread and my kind raced to find good human hosts. Problem was, there was about a thousand times more of us than them. The fighting killed off most of the humans. When word got back to the Utopia, they assumed we had destroyed the human colonies on purpose.

  Dallas felt the antiseptic tingle and coughed at the mist. An ultraviolet light engulfed the room, killing whatever the spray and sonics had not. Then the door opened and she stepped into the light. There were no S.O. troops, no armed forces, just the one bored guard who handed Dallas her pile of flash-sanitized clothing.

  “So now Jonin’s on constant alert?” she said once they were back in the terminal.

  Yes. They killed off everything on the entire planet, all the way down to the microbes, then built it up from scratch with animals that resist our acquisition. I think their motto is Never Again.

  “Bummer,” Dallas said. “So basically you guys had a feeding frenzy.”

  Yes.

  “That what started the war?”

  No. As soon as the Utopia discovered us—which took a long time, by the way—we were considered hostiles. Obviously, they recognized the conflict between our species.

  “So why don’t they just engineer a host for you? Something better than humans? You know, good senses, stronger bodies, more stamina, dexterity… Give you guys a reason to stop taking us as hosts.”

  Would you give an enemy that kind of power?

  Dallas hadn’t thought about that. “Um. So where am I supposed to be going?” She had stopped at the exit to the terminal. Outside, the single tram was sitting unused, rusting.

  This is where you gotta be careful. Exiting the terminal is the most dangerous step in this whole process. Step to the sidewalk, but make sure you can see in all four directions and it’s clear. Then wait. Keep the guard in sight through the door. Ignore anyone who walks up to you. After a few minutes, a green skimmer should drive past. These are the cabs used by locals. Hail it, and tell him you just saw a friend to the shuttle and need a ride back home.

  “Sounds complicated. Do you want to do this?”

  Just listen. The driver’s gonna ask for an address. Give him the headquarters of the shuttle company. It should be on the wall under its certification from Port Authority. A minute away from the termi
nal, change your mind and tell him you just realized you needed to run errands in the Straw District. If he asks what type of errands, tell him the family you work for just lost a slave and you need to buy a new one. That will put him on edge enough to stifle further conversation. Jeriah families wealthy enough to afford hired help and slaves are always crime-affiliated. It also reduces the risk of him trying to sell you to a collector. Even a whiff of the wealthy families of Jeriah is enough to put even the most opportunistic slavers on edge.

  “Um. Would you like to do this? You seem to know more about it than I do.”

  Don’t worry, Captain. You’ll do fine.

  Dallas grinned. “You’re the only one who still calls me Captain.”

  If you don’t get this right, I’ll probably be the last.

  “I thought you told me not to worry!”

  I don’t want you to look nervous. To live in Jeriah, you’ve gotta be hard. Which reminds me. Go to the restroom.

  “Why? I don’t have to pee.”

  Just do it.

  Dallas sighed and obeyed.

  As soon as she had entered the stall, Stuart said, Take your hair down and put it in a pony tail. Wipe your finger along the crack against the wall and rub some of the dirt on your hands and face. Now take a shit.

  Dallas, who had complied up until this point, flinched. “You’re kidding me.”

  The Straw District stinks like hell. It’ll be more convincing if you stink, as well.

  “Screw that!” Dallas cried. “I’m not rubbing shit on myself!”

  Not you. Your clothes. Just a tiny bit will suffice.

  “Ugh!” Dallas snapped, backing out of the stall. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Believe me, Captain, you want to do this.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Stuart took over. As Dallas squirmed with disgust, he moved her bowels, collected the result, and brushed portions of it on the bottom of her shoes and against parts of her coat.

  “You are disgusting!” Dallas screeched when he finally put her back in control. “I’m going to get sick!” She ran to the sink and started sanitizing her hands.

  In her head, Stuart sighed. Now you’ve gotta find some more dirt to rub on your hands. You can’t get in the cab with clean hands.

  Dallas refused. Stuart took over again.

  “You’re really starting to piss me off!” Dallas screamed when he gave her back the controls.

  It’s for your own good, Captain, Stuart said. I didn’t want to come down here in the first place, so unless you’re gonna return to the shuttle and go back to Retribution, I’m not letting you screw us both over.

  “You sound just like Athenais.”

  I’m just keeping things in perspective, Captain. It’s not just yourself you’ve got to take care of anymore. It’s me, too.

  “I wonder if tapeworm medicine will work if I pour it in my ear.”

  You’re the one who signed up for this, Stuart reminded her. Rabbit was ready to shoot me.

  “You’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that?”

  Stop talking to yourself. I think you’re frightening the guard.

  “Shut up.” Dallas wrenched the door of the bathroom open and walked across to inspect the Jeriah Space Transport’s shuttle license. She memorized the address, then stalked out the door to stand on the sidewalk, in a foul mood.

  Almost immediately, a well-groomed man jogged up and gave her a charming smile. “I’m so glad I found someone. This part of town is always so deserted and that worthless guard wasn’t any help. You look like you know something about mechanics. My skimmer stalled just around the corner—”

  “Bugger off,” Dallas spat. “I’m busy.”

  The charming smile faded into a scowl. “I see.” At that, he turned and left.

  Not a few seconds later, a frail old woman with a four-footed cane hobbled past her and dropped her bag of groceries. Food and vegetables spilled all over the ground in front of Dallas and the old woman gave a cry of horror.

  Dallas stood, immobile, ignoring the woman and her spilled groceries. The woman struggled to replace the food in her bag, but her palsied fingers trembled too much to keep a reliable grip on anything.

  “Excuse me, dear, would you mind helping me?” the woman asked.

  Dallas kicked a yellow fruit across the road, where it was crushed against the hood of a passing skimmer. Stuart was such a dick.

  The grandmotherly eyes darkened. “I see.” Swiftly, she gathered up the fallen groceries and stuffed them back into her bag. Then she tucked the cane under her arm and walked off.

  So far so good, Stuart said.

  “Shut up,” Dallas said.

  Minutes passed and Dallas had to turn down several bright yellow skimmers that stopped and offered their services. Finally, a green cab came into view and she waved it down.

  “You free?” Dallas called.

  Be assertive, Stuart said. Don’t ask. Tell.

  Dallas’s face remained in a tight grimace. “Go screw yourself, worm.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, take me to 333 East Renoyld Road. I just got finished dropping my friend off at the shuttle and I need to get home before the boss realizes I’m gone.” Dallas climbed into the back seat.

  The woman at the driver’s console relaxed. “Of course. 333 East Renoyld. Isn’t that the commercial part of town?”

  Careful, Stuart said quickly. She smells something.

  “Yeah. It’s my shit-covered jacket,” Dallas snapped.

  The woman looked startled as she stared at Dallas through the rear-view. “Excuse me?”

  “Mind your own business, woman,” Stuart said.

  Dallas glared. “Don’t do that again.”

  The driver looked thoroughly confused. “Of course. 333 East Renoyld. You a native of Odan?”

  “Just shut up and drive,” Dallas said.

  Looking bewildered and a bit put off, the woman did.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the shuttle station, Stuart said, Okay. Now tell her you need to run some errands in the Straw District.

  “Change of plans,” Dallas said. “Take me to the Straw District. Boss just lost another slave and needs a replacement. Usually I snag one myself, but I don’t have the time I’m normally given, so today I guess I just gotta pay the Man.” She smiled at the woman in the front seat, who immediately turned pale.

  The cab dropped her off on a damp, stinking street littered with bits of straw. Dallas immediately learned why. Rows of cages, each with three solid cement sides, a roof, and a viewing area of solid steel bars, lined the streets in all directions. The people inside the cages had a bucket, a pile of straw, and, if they were lucky, some clothes. Most looked sick and underfed.

  As she watched, one of the men outside the cages poured the contents of one of the buckets into the street. Human waste spilled out over the ground, where feral pigs converged on the scraps and began to root through it.

  Dallas held her nose and looked away.

  Don’t, Stuart said. Act like you see this every day.

  “I can’t,” Dallas whispered.

  Move closer to the cages, Stuart ordered. Pretend you had to spit. They’re watching you.

  Dallas’s feet were rooted to the ground. “I can’t,” she said again. “I want to go back.”

  You can’t go back. They’d know you for what you are and put you in one of those cages. Is that what you want?

  “No,” Dallas whispered. She was fighting down nausea. “You do this, Stuart. I don’t want to.”

  No. It’s not my people who put their own kind in cages. You will do this.

  “I didn’t even know this place existed!” Dallas cried.

  Collect your thoughts. Now. That man walking toward you is a slaver. He’s wondering if you’re lost. If you say one wrong thing, he’s going to order those men over there to grab you and we will be sold to the highest bidder. Do you understand?

  “Why are you being so mean?!”
Dallas was shaking. She could handle a fleet of ships, but this was too much. She was too exposed.

  You need to realize that not everything in life is sitting in a captain’s chair and doing loops in space. You need to grow up, Dallas.

  Dallas stared at the approaching man, stunned. “What did you say?”

  Stuart remained silent.

  The slaver stopped and smiled at her. “Ye lost, miss? That cab drop ye off in the wrong district?”

  Dallas’s face contorted. You’re just like Athenais. You don’t respect me—you’re just using me.

  “I’ll be takin’ that as a yes, then,” the man said, glancing behind him.

  Dallas shoved the man aside. “Get the hell outta of my way.”

  The slaver, who was six-five and at least three hundred pounds, looked surprised. He caught her shoulder with a meaty hand and stopped her. “Here now, sweetie. Such a little thing like ye…my, wha’ a pretty face. What ye doing here? Ye sure yer not on the wrong side of town?”

  Dallas paused and turned, slowly. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”

  The slaver released her shoulder. “Sure thing. Just tryin ta help. Maybe if ye told me what yer looking fer, I could help ye.”

  Dallas scowled at him. “The family I work for recently lost a good slave. Shipman. Utopian-trained. They want me to buy them a replacement.” She glanced at her watch. 10:46 Standard. “Before noon.”

  The slaver’s eyes widened, sensing easy money. “Sure thing, miss. Why, I’ve got three right in my pen. All former Utopis. One’s even got a scrap o’ uniform left.”

  “Show me,” Dallas ordered.

  The slaver did. None of the miserable-looking men behind the bars were Colonel Howlen.

  “They must meet certain specifications,” Dallas said, scowling. “Yours all look sick.”

  “Look at the women, then,” the slaver offered, moving in front of a second cage. “They’re naturally more healthy than the males.”

  Careful, Captain, Stuart warned.