by King, Sara
“Yeah.” Geo looked at his knife for a few more seconds. The blade shone with a polished mirror-like sheen that allowed Joel to see part of Geo’s face as the crime-boss examined it. He was smiling.
It made Joe breathe a little easier. That’s it. Just keep him happy. Geo was a sucker for jokes, if a guy knew how to handle them.
Then Geo twisted and rammed the ten-inch blade down into the meatiest part of Joel’s leg. As Joel grunted through his teeth, Geo said, “We’re outta pheasant, Joey-baby.”
“Smoked salmon and buttered asparagus,” Joel gritted. “Maybe a couple sautéed Shrieker nodules on the side.”
“Hmm.” Geo wrenched the knife loose and smiled as blood began to pump from the wound. “I’ll think about it.” He motioned at his second goon. “Seal that up. He’s bleeding on my carpet.”
Joel lay there in mute silence as the second thug produced a first aid kit, conveniently located under a candy wrapper on a cluttered shelf just behind Geo’s desk. Then, like a good little surgeon, the man squatted beside him and started pulling out bandages and antiseptic.
“So what should I do with you, Joey-baby?” Geo asked, flipping the knife blade-over-hilt and catching it. “You’re a good smuggler. Real good. But you just pissed me off.”
Grimacing as the second goon fused the wound back together with a sterile strip of nanotape, Joel said, “You could always give me the product and let me go, minus two grand’s worth.”
Geo smiled. Flipped the knife. Watched the blade sparkle as he caught it in his pale fingers. “No, I don’t think so.” His red eyes slipped down to meet Joel’s gaze. “Sautéed Shrieker nodules, huh? You like those?”
“They say a nodule a day will stop brain decay.”
“Seems like you missed a few days, didn’t you, Joey-baby?” Geo was grinning, now, and Joel had the hopeful feeling that the crime boss wasn’t going to dump him into orbit. Geo set the knife on his desk and leaned forward over his huge gut. “Tell you what.”
Joel grimaced. Another dangerous blockade run against the coalers? A direct pickup from a crooked Director running one of the Shrieker Yolk factories? He pressed his lips together and waited in silence.
“Aren’t you curious what I’m gonna do to you?” Geo asked, prodding his tender leg with a chubby finger.
“Figure I’m gonna find out,” Joel muttered. “And that whatever it is, I probably don’t want to know, anyway.”
“Yeah.” Geo grinned and leaned closer. “You’re right.” He nodded at the thug standing over Joel’s head.
Joel glanced up just in time to see the flash of brass knuckles before his awareness burst into an explosion of tiny stars.
Chapter 5
Unit Ferris
18:32:10 Director pacing.
18:32:15 Director pacing.
18:32:20 Director pacing. Subject diagnosed with Egger’s Wide, Gayle Hunter, still unconscious.
18:32:25 Director pacing.
18:32:27 Subject diagnosed with Egger’s Wide, Gayle Hunter, twitches. Director’s heartbeat increases by fourteen beats per minute.
18:32:29 Director’s heartbeat stabilizes.
18:32:30 Director pacing.
18:32:35 Director pacing.
18:32:38 Begin verbal record. Conversation participants: D- Director Yura Nalle, Commander, United Space Coalition. F- Ferris, assistant to the director, chip ID F001HG494W15LKM.
18:32:38 D: Stop watching me, you stupid machine.
18:32:39 F: Yes, Director.
18:32:40 End Dialogue. Conversation participants: D- Director Yura Nalle, Commander, United Space Coalition, universal ID NEPHYR391HAL120. F- Ferris, assistant to the director, chip ID F001HG494W15LKM.
18:32:40 Director out of sight. Assumed pacing.
18:32:45 Director out of sight. Assumed pacing.
18:32:50 Subject diagnosed with Egger’s wide, Gayle Hunter, twitches. Director’s heartbeat increases by six and a half beats per minute.
18:32:51 Begin verbal record. Conversation participants: D- Director Yura Nalle, Commander, United Space Coalition, universal ID NEPHYR391HAL120. G- Gayle Hunter, Fortune colonist, universal ID UNKNOWN.
18:32:51 D: Why’d you keep going down there, Gayle?
18:32:55 (Unit note: Subject Gayle Hunter has still not replied.)
18:32:55 Director’s heartbeat increases by another twenty beats per minute.
18:32:56 D: Damn it. You knew this was coming. We both knew it. Merciful Aanaho, there’s no cure. You know that?
18:33:00 (Unit note: Subject Gayle Hunter has still not replied.)
18:33:02 Director sighs. Director’s heartbeat stabilizes.
18:33:03 D: Ferris, I have a job for you.
18:33:03 (Unit note: Ferris, assistant to the director, chip ID F001HG494W15LKM added to conversation. Dialogue attributed with an F.)
18:33:05 F: Yes, Director?
18:33:08 D: That little girl from formation today. What was her name?
18:33:09 Camp database accessed. (Unit note: Recent modifications to this profile detected. Updating unit file.) Subject identified as Anna Overlord Landborn. Date of birth: THE-7TH-DAY. Universal ID: DONTUWISHL0S3R. IQ: MO’THANU. Blood type: V-AMP. Genetic Sequence: UNKNOWN. Favorite drink: STRAWBERRY SODA.
18:33:09 (Unit note: A malfunction detected in data. FAVORITE DRINK not part of regular entrance interview. Further, all standard data unknown or irregular. File corruption suspected. Rest of profile truncated.)
18:33:09 F: Her name is Anna Landborn, Director.
18:33:11 D: The same Anna Landborn that was involved with this Joel fellow?
18:33:14 F: Yes, Director.
18:33:15 Director grunts. Resumes pacing.
18:33:20 Director pacing.
18:33:23 D: I want you to follow her.
18:33:23 (Unit note: New program initiated. Designation: Follow Anna Landborn.)
18:33:24 Director stops pacing.
18:33:24 D: Not now, dammit. Listen to me, first.
18:33:27 (Unit note: Program Follow Anna Landborn cancelled. Resume normal programming queue. New program initiated. Listen to Director Yura Nalle v553.)
18:33:28 D: Something’s been nagging at me ever since the formation this morning. I’ve got this weird feeling the big sister was covering for her. You get that feeling, Ferris?
18:33:34 F: She recited the Standard Galactic Encyclopedia word-for-word, Director. I found it a bit odd.
18:33:37 Director sighs.
18:33:38 D: Yeah. All right. I hate to do this, but I want you to go watch her. Collect all the data on her you can. If she’s what I think she is—
18:33:45 Director pacing.
18:33:50 (Unit note: Director did not finish her final directive. Fragment discarded from program record.)
18:33:51 D: I want all conversations recorded and all actions other than sleep and necessary bodily functions videotaped.
18:33:54 (Unit note: New program recorded. Designation: Watch Anna Landborn. NOTE: Clarification needed.)
18:33:59 F: Am I to document for official criminal prosecution?
18:34:02 D: No. Possible induction into the Nephyrs. I think she might be a Yolk-baby.
18:34:02 (Unit note: Clarification received: Collect information on subject’s intelligence. NOTE: Clarification needed.)
18:34:06 F: What is your target Intelligence Quotient, Director?
18:34:08 Director sighs. Begins pacing.
18:34:10 Director pacing.
18:34:15 Director pacing.
18:34:20 (Unit note: Director did not respond. Retrying.)
18:34:20 F: What is your target Intelligence Quotient, Director?
18:34:22 D: Dammit, Ferris, I’m thinking.
18:34:25 Director pacing.
18:34:27: D: How about one-ninety. Anything less and she stays with her sister.
18:34:29 (Unit note: Clarification received: Target Intelligence Quotient of 190 or greater.)
18:34:30 Oh, and Ferris? Don’t let her know what
you’re doing, especially not the big sister. We might’ve just stumbled upon one of the freaks Fortune’s been producing. Colonists have been hiding ‘em good, keep saying there’s none left, but that little girl just gave me the creeps. Go in as an undercover. Got it?
18:34:37 F: Yes, Director.
18:34:40 D: Good. Report back to me as soon as you’ve figured out how smart the little brat is. Dismissed.
18:34:44 F: Yes, Director. Understood.
18:34:44 End Dialogue. Conversation participants: D- Director Yura Nalle, Commander, United Space Coalition, universal ID NEPHYR391HAL120. F- Ferris, assistant to the director, chip ID F001HG494W15LKM. G- Gayle Hunter, Fortune colonist, universal ID UNKNOWN.
18:34:44 (Unit note: Program Watch Anna Landborn Initiated.)
Chapter 6
Wideman Joe
Tatiana woke to the sound of quiet murmurs.
“Damn, Pat. How much you give her?”
“Gimme a break, Miles. I gave her what I always give ‘em. Besides, I think she’s coming outta it. Her eyelids just flickered.”
“Unnggh.”
“Yep, she’s coming outta it. You awake there, Princess?”
Tatiana pried open an eyelid. It felt sticky and thick. “Bastard.” But it sounded like, “Masturlg.”
There was a long pause. Then a big shadow moved over her head and Tatiana felt a warm hand on her forehead, prying open her other eyelid.
“Unnggh!” Tatiana cried, throwing the hand away from her in disgust.
What happened was much less dramatic—her arm flopped a few centimeters across her chest and stayed there.
“You O.D.’d her. Aanaho, Pat. She’s tiny. She can’t be more than four-nine.”
Four-nine… Tatiana’s drugged mind numbly tried to make sense of that, then, in horror, realized it was Colonial for her height—which they had underestimated by at least five centimeters. I’m four-foot-eleven, Tatiana fumed, making the mental calculation. Four-eleven! She tried again to throw the hand away from her eye, and this time managed to nudge it slightly.
Milar chuckled. “Well, she’s coming around, anyway.” He let her eyelid slide closed and backed away. “Look at her. She looks pissed, Pat. Man, she ain’t gonna like it when we put her back under.”
Like hell, Tatiana thought, forcing her fingers to move. Like an arm coming out of a numbness from sleeping on it, she slowly began to get feeling in her outer extremities. When she at last was able to sit up, she felt like her head had exploded. She lifted a hand to her head—and immediately toppled off the couch.
“Whoa,” Patrick jumped up and grabbed her. “You need a few more minutes there, pumpkin?”
You call me pumpkin again and I’m going to have my soldier shove his foot up your ass. “No,” she replied. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Patrick grunted, then pushed her shoulder back against the couch and held it there. “You don’t look fine. You look like a Shrieker hit you.”
“I’m fine. Leggo.” She shoved his arm away. Immediately, she started to slide sideways down the sofa back, but her scowl stopped Patrick from reaching for her again.
They were in a large room that smelled of smoke and what an ancient memory identified as insect repellent. Dead Fortune animals adorned the walls, and there were several couches scattered about, a few of which held other colonists, all of whom were leaning forward, staring at her.
“Who are they?” she muttered, peering at them through a headache.
Patrick glanced over his shoulder, then cleared his throat in what sounded like embarrassment. “Ah, well, admirers, I guess.”
Milar snorted, but he didn’t object. Instead, he watched her like a cat analyzing the activities of a fly.
Admirers? Tatiana tried to remember her last battle on Muchos Rios, before getting transferred to the Outer Bounds. She’d gotten a Third Commendation for it, made a few headlines back home on Gorgon, but it hadn’t made much of a splash anywhere else. Had one of these idiots gotten hold of the video or something? Was she a mini-celebrity here?
Somehow, considering the way Patrick and Milar had welcomed her, she didn’t think that was very likely.
“So,” Milar said, once she’d managed to prop herself up and stay there, “You ready to see Wideman Joe, Princess?” He had stripped off his long leather jacket and his shades, but the rest of his body was decked out in black, from his big military boots to the form-fitting black jeans to the heart-stopping way his too-tight T-shirt stretched against the muscles in his chest. When she didn’t reply, he learned forward, stretching the cloth even tighter as he waved a big, dragon-covered hand in front of her face. “Still with us, Tiny?”
“Bugger off, knucker,” she muttered, forcing herself not to think about the way her captor’s well-defined pecs were jiggling in front of her. She brought her hand to her head and held it, focusing on breathing. Patrick got up and disappeared for a few moments, leaving her with Milar and the starers.
She heard water running in another room. In the chair in front of her, Milar continued to analyze her every movement, like she was some sort of doomed lab experiment.
“Where’d Patrick go?” she asked, trying not to squirm under Milar’s dark gaze.
Milar smiled, though it was laced with sarcasm. He leaned forward, smirking at her as the chair creaked under his weight. “You prefer my brother stayed to watch you, Princess?”
Tatiana said nothing.
Milar chuckled, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
When Patrick returned, he had a glass of water in his hand. He offered it to her.
Scowling at the twins, Tatiana drank it all.
“Sorry,” Patrick muttered. It almost sounded like he was apologizing to his brother.
Milar snorted. “I ain’t. Coaler broad deserves to get the crap scared outta her once in awhile.” He stood abruptly. “Now get her off her ass. Little tramp’s up—now we’re just burning daylight.”
“Come on,” Patrick said, giving Milar an irritated look, “Let’s go see Wideman.” He nodded at Tatiana. “Can you walk?”
Realizing Patrick was going to carry her if she didn’t walk, Tatiana struggled to her feet, glaring at them both. “You are both dead men.”
Milar laughed and stepped closer, towering over her like a mountain. “Really? Is that before or after we waste your pretty ass and hide it in a Shrieker pit?”
“Leave her alone,” Patrick muttered, grabbing her under an arm to steady her. Tatiana felt the laser pistol on his belt dig into her thigh. “Stop trying to scare her, Miles.”
“Scare me?” Tatiana laughed and jabbed a finger into Milar’s thick chest. Glaring up into his piss-brown eyes, she said, “When I get my way, the rest of you are just gonna be uncomfortable. I think he’ll be naked.”
Milar lifted a brow. “Naked where, sweetie?”
Tatiana grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know. As soon as the government finds out you’ve kidnapped me—”
“The only people who know you’re even alive, darlin’, are the handful of people in this room.” Milar leaned closer, hazel eyes sparkling with malicious glee. “And believe me. None of them will miss an arrogant little operator squid when she disappears.”
Tatiana narrowed her eyes and stood on her tiptoes to scowl up at him. “When the Nephyrs get here, they’re gonna take your attitude and your dime-store leather jacket and shove ‘em up your ass.” Then she looked him lazily up and down. “Or stuff ‘em down your throat. Same diff, in your case.”
Patrick quickly pulled her away from his brother, clearing his throat. “All right, then. You seem cognizant enough. Let’s get you to Wideman.”
“Yeah,” Tatiana said, still glaring up at Milar. “Let’s get me to Wideman.” Turning, she let Patrick lead her from the room. His pistol, she noted, was not snapped down.
Behind her, Milar made a derisive snort. “It’s like the little squid actually thinks she’s going to come out of this alive.”
�
�Shut it, Miles,” Patrick growled. Then he waved at the other colonists in the room. “And keep them here. Joe doesn’t like a lot of visitors.”
“Yeah,” Tatiana called over her shoulder. “Keep them there, Miles.”
She was delighted to see him scowl just before they turned a corner.
“You really shouldn’t provoke him,” Patrick muttered, once they were stepping through a screened front porch. He glanced over his shoulder. “Milar is…dangerous.”
Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. What’s he gonna do, beat me to death with his sunglasses?”
Patrick stopped to stare at her, blinking at her stupidly for a moment. Then, seemingly shaking himself, he pulled her out across the rickety back porch and down a cobblestone path.
“You seem like the reasonable twin,” Tatiana said. “You want to come out of this alive and healthy, right?” Then she looked him up and down. “Well, at least alive. Pretty sure you’ve got some health issues already. You know, like IACS? Incurable And Chronic Stupidity? That’s a big one. Heard it’s been goin’ around these parts.”
“Miss,” Patrick said, “it would be better if you just kept your mouth shut.”
They emerged into a big garden, screened from the outside world with a short wall of brush. With Patrick’s callused hand still firmly holding her arm—more, Tatiana began to think, to keep her from running than to hold her up—they walked up to the stick-thin man hunched over next to one of the leafy rows. He was tiny—barely larger than a child.
He’s smaller than me, Tatiana realized, surprised. She watched him as they approached, interested now.
The tiny little man had something yellow in his lap and was bent in concentration over it, humming a tuneless little song that was all the more creepy for its childish lack of regard to pitch.
“Joe?” Patrick said, sounding surprisingly tentative. “You busy, Joe?”
“Hmmm, hmmmm, hmmmmmmmmmmm, huuum, haa, haa, hummmmmmmm.”
Now that Tatiana was closer, she could see the end of a yellow zucchini or some other form of squash sticking out from under the tiny man’s grip. He had a small knife in the other hand and was peeling it.