Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising

by King, Sara

  “I’ll show you a landmine, lady,” Tatiana said, around more popcorn. “I’ll stuff it in your ear, how about that?”

  “What do you want, Jeanne?” Milar asked.

  The woman narrowed her eyes. For a long moment, it looked like she would simply turn and walk away. Then, softly, Jeanne said, “I know you ain’t got the best com, so I’m guessing you ain’t been getting the message. Runaway Joel just showed up in Deaddrunk. Shot through the chest. Unconscious. Drivin’ that pretty black ship of his.”

  Milar eased himself off the edge of the door. “The TAG?”

  “Yeah,” Jeanne said. “And the Coalition’s gonna get their hands on it, if we don’t go in there and take it before the Nephyrs come sniffing down from the mountains.”

  “Shit,” Milar said. “Where’s he been all this time?”

  “No idea,” Jeanne said, “Though he’s got a lifeline, from what they tell me. Didn’t realize it until they pulled the fucker off his ship, though.”

  Milar’s eyes widened. “The town’s been tagged.”

  “Yeah, and after the stunt your little friend pulled, I’m thinking this time they’re not gonna let us off with just a contraband sweep.”

  “It’s gonna be another Cold Knife.” Milar cursed again.

  Tatiana wiped grease off her fingers and flipped on her microphone. “Who’s Runaway Joel? And what’s a cold knife?”

  Jeanne’s head jerked toward the intercom, then her eyes narrowed at Milar. “Can she fly a TAG? Because Joel sure as Hell ain’t going nowhere fast.”

  Milar grimaced. “No, I don’t think—”

  “Fly a TAG?” Tatiana snorted. “Please. What, you can’t?”

  Jeanne looked directly into the camera with a cold, flat green stare, giving Tatiana goosebumps. Then she shoved past Milar and into the ship. Tatiana heard her footsteps thunder on the grating at a run.

  Floundering, Tatiana dropped her popcorn bowl and scrambled to hit the button to seal the cockpit. After a polite beep, the doors hissed shut with a comforting metal click. Tatiana breathed a sigh of relief and dropped her face to the console. That was too close.

  Someone kicked the swivel lock on the pilot’s chair and spun her around. Tatiana screamed.

  Jeanne leaned over her chair, her toothy necklace dangling in Tatiana’s face as she put her cold emerald eyes only centimeters from Tatiana’s. Swallowing, Tatiana shrank into the cushioning as far as she could go.

  For a long moment, the woman’s eerie green gaze only searched hers. Then she said, “Whose side are you on?”

  Outside, Milar was pounding on the door and shouting. Tatiana was so terrified she didn’t hear the words. All she could see was the promise of death in the woman’s face.

  “Yours,” she whispered.

  For the longest time, the pirate just watched her in silence.

  “And you can fly a TAG?” Jeanne finally said.

  Tatiana swallowed hard and nodded.

  “How about a custom 450 with boosters and fully manual control?”

  She nodded again, afraid to speak.

  “That’s not standard training for an operator.” The woman’s voice was utterly flat, emotionless. Deadly.

  “I was bored,” Tatiana squeaked.

  The pirate continued to stare at her. Finally, she reached up and grabbed a chink between the molars of her necklace, holding the gruesome thing out so Tatiana could see it. “You know what this represents, girl?”

  Tatiana swallowed at the empty hole. The teeth around it were big, nasty things, with black lines of plaque in the crevices. It was downright Stone-Age. “You’re getting in touch with your hunter-gatherer side?”

  The pirate was utterly still, utterly calm. She said absolutely nothing, just stared, and Tatiana watched her own death tumble around in the woman’s head. She cringed into the leather, suddenly wishing she had taken those Personal Confidence courses the base had offered in its continuing education programs.

  Then, thinking about it, she realized that the better course would have been another Operator Behavioral Reconditioning Course, OBRC, lovingly referred to as the How Not To Be A Smartass course. Most operators had to take it at least once in their tours, since all of them got cocky at some point or another. Tatiana had taken it seven times, already, and had been queued for her eighth when she was kidnapped.

  …Or was it the ninth?

  “This,” the woman said, dropping the necklace back so it dangled between them, the empty chink clearly visible, “is the place I reserved for you the day you handed Milar to the Nephyrs. Got rid of a tooth from one of Geo’s goons so I could fit you in.”

  Oh shit. Looking at the gap, Tatiana swallowed.

  “You cross the line one more time, coaler,” the pirate said, “you do anything to piss me off, and you’re going right here.” She tapped the gap in the necklace again. “Understand?”

  Tatiana gave a weak grin and nodded. Rule One of the OBRC—Smile And Nod.

  Behind them, the door opened and Milar rushed inside. “Hey, now,” he said, when he saw the pirate leaning over her. He slowed and held out a wary hand. “Jeanne, just calm down.”

  “I’m taking the girl to Deaddrunk,” Jeanne said, straightening until she towered over Tatiana. “She’s gonna get that TAG the hell outta there before those Nephyrs get curious. Then she’s gonna distract them while we evacuate the town.”

  “She can stay here with me,” Milar said. “I’ll take her.”

  “Liberty’s a brick with wings,” Jeanne said, grabbing Tatiana by the shirt. “I can get the girl there in half the time with Belle.”

  “It’s Captain Tatiana Eyre,” Tatiana said. “Not ‘girl.’” Then she winced. Rule Two of the OBRC—Keep Your Mouth Shut Unless You’re Eating.

  “I’m taking the girl with me,” Jeanne said. “You got a problem with that, Miles, you can take it up with my gun.” She hauled Tatiana out of the chair by her jumpsuit.

  Seeing Milar wasn’t going to take it up with her gun, Tatiana swallowed, hard. “Maybe I can’t fly a TAG, after all. My memory’s a bit fuzzy.” In fact, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t decide if she had been trained on a TAG or a GAT. What the hell was a TAG, anyway? She kept thinking something yellow with foilers, but she was pretty sure that was just the MMORPG she had played in her barracks room.

  Without looking at Tatiana, Jeanne grabbed her necklace by the missing tooth and showed it to Tatiana. To Milar, she said, “She’s coming with me. Wake up your brother and fly this thing back to Deaddrunk. We’re gonna need every ship for the evacuation.” As if the matter was settled, the pirate dropped the necklace back to her chest. “Let’s go, coaler.” She turned and strode from the room, leaving Milar and Tatiana looking at each other.

  “I think she wants to kill me,” Tatiana whispered.

  Milar looked slightly pale. “You should do what she says.”

  They glanced at the door together.

  “Now, coaler!” Jeanne snapped, from the steps to the lower deck. “Every second we waste, that’s a second we won’t have to get you situated on that TAG before the Nephyrs decide to get curious.”

  “What’s a TAG?” Tatiana whispered to Milar.

  Milar’s eyes widened and he paled further.

  “Don’t make me come back there and get you, runt!” Jeanne shouted.

  “Your teeth are dirty,” Tatiana shouted back. To Milar, she said, “What’s it look like? Big, little?”

  “Just go,” Milar said, wincing, “Before she does kill you.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Tatiana snapped. “What’s a TAG? Is it yellow?”

  Milar just looked at her as if she were some strange space barnacle that had affixed itself to his ship.

  “With foilers?” she suggested.

  “Look, squid,” Milar said, his face clearing, “Stop screwing around. This is the real thing. Cold Knife is the name of a town the Nephyrs slaughtered looking for you, after we blew up your soldier. Runaway was runnin
g from something. They hunt him back to Deaddrunk and they’ll murder everyone there.”

  “Then come with me,” Tatiana said. “I don’t like her.”

  “I’m sure the feeling is mutual, sweetie,” Milar said. “But of Pat and I, I’m the one best equipped to fly this baby out of a firefight.”

  “No,” Tatiana said, “I’m the best one to fly this out of a firefight. What the hell does a TAG have to do with anything?”

  “You wanted a ship with guns,” Milar reminded her. “A TAG’s got guns.”

  “But it’s not even your ship!” Tatiana cried. “You want me to steal a ship?”

  “It’s not stealing it if the owner can’t use it no more,” Milar said.

  “Then that Runaway Joel guy is dead?” Tatiana demanded.

  Milar’s face darkened. “No, but he will be. We’ll be leaving his ass in Deaddrunk for the coalers.”

  Tatiana frowned. “That’s not nice.

  Milar gave her a flat look. “It’s what he deserves.”

  * * *

  Tatiana sat in a passenger seat—not the copilot seat, despite her protestations—and picked at her nails as the pirate flew them back to the town of the crazy egger.

  “So,” Tatiana said, “How’s my little egghead friend?”

  Jeanne ignored her. In fact, for the last twenty minutes, the pirate hadn’t said anything to her other than, “Get back in the seat or I’ll start cutting off fingers.”

  “This Runaway Joel a friend of yours?” Tatiana asked.

  “Was,” Jeanne said. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh yeah?” Tatiana probed, curious how a frigid icicle like Jeanne could have a friend. “What broke you up?”

  “Differences,” Jeanne said.

  “Like what? He stole your toothpaste?” Then she slapped her forehead. “No, it was the fingers, wasn’t it?”

  She actually saw a muscle in the woman’s jaw twitch. “He betrayed a friend of mine.”

  “So?”

  Jeanne looked over her shoulder. “So, that friend is dead now, and I’ve got three more teeth on my necklace.”

  “Oh yeah?” Tatiana asked, looking at the string of molars. “What happened to the owners?”

  “I hunted them down, scalped them, took their scalps back to the thugs’ employer, dropped them on the desk in front of the fat fuck, and then blew the shit out of his living room on the way out.”

  Tatiana peered at the woman, trying to determine whether or not she was lying. Like any good fashion model, she had curves. Finally, she said, “You’re like, what, one-eighty? One eighty-two? Seventy-three, seventy-four kilos?”

  Jeanne gave her a blank frown.

  Tatiana realized that the backward colonist knucker probably didn’t have the first clue about what a kilo or a meter was. She cursed the barbaric nature of the colonies and started doing the mental math. “So, like, five-eleven? A hundred-sixty pounds? Hundred-seventy?”

  Jeanne said nothing.

  “How does someone like you scalp someone?”

  Jeanne’s green eyes found her again. “How does someone like you look in the mirror without wanting to blow your metal brains out?”

  Tatiana flushed and fell into a brooding silence. Rule Eight of the OBRC—Sticks and Stones Can Break Your Bones, But Commanding Officers Can Ground You. Unfortunately, Tatiana had always failed this part of the brain-scan. Under her breath, Tatiana muttered, “You forget to chew your mastodon this morning? ‘Cause you’re acting awfully backed up.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. I’m sure flint chips take excellent scalps.”

  Jeanne gave her a long look of utter bafflement, then returned to the controls.

  “Neanderthal,” Tatiana muttered.

  “I heard that,” Jeanne said.

  “Must be those keen hunter senses,” Tatiana said.

  Jeanne looked over her shoulder…

  …and grinned. Tatiana’s mouth dropped open.

  “You know,” Jeanne said, returning her gaze to the viewfinder, “I was rooting for you.”

  “What?”

  “Back when you took Liberty and left us all staring at your exhaust vortexes. I was hopin’ you’d talk your way out of Milar gutting you. Half the prophecies say he gutted you.” She gave Tatiana another measuring look. “Wideman gave us more prophecies on you than everyone else combined. Why is that?”

  “Uh,” Tatiana said, flushing, “He’s got a thing for cyborgs?”

  “You gonna be the Face of the Revolution, there, girl?”

  “Wasn’t particularly planning on it,” Tatiana said.

  Jeanne held her gaze a moment, then returned to the viewfinder. “We’re coming up on Deaddrunk. I’m gonna drop you beside the TAG and see if I can find those Nephyrs. As soon as you get airborne, I’m gonna need you to slow down the coalers while everyone evacuates. If they’ve at all got their shit together, they’re gonna be coming from Yolk Factory 9, about a hundred and forty miles southwest of Deaddrunk. It’s got its own Pods assigned to it.”

  “How many?” Tatiana asked, suddenly distracted by the crystal butterfly hanging from above the ship’s viewfinder. It seemed oddly out of place, like the Abominable Snowman had suddenly decided to wear a gigantic yellow smiley face hat while it ripped the heads off of high-altitude enthusiasts.

  “You hear me?” Jeanne demanded.

  Tatiana jerked her eyes away from the butterfly. “Eh?”

  “However many show up, take care of them,” Jeanne said. “You can do that, right? If you can’t, and you need help, let me know. We can’t afford to have any of those bastards get through to Deaddrunk.”

  Tatiana peered at Jeanne, her mind’s eye unable to rid herself of the crystal butterfly. “Deaddrunk?” A butterfly just seemed so unbelievable. Maybe Jeanne had a girly little lover who happened to like crystals. Yeah, that was it. She was a lesbian. Made total sense, now that she thought about it.

  Vaguely, Tatiana heard the ship slow, felt the metallic thud of the landing gear fall into place.

  She looked at Jeanne. Could she be a lesbian? Butch was in, sure, but would any woman really want to share bed space with Homo Erectus? All she’s missing is the spear, Tatiana thought, her eyes once again falling on the ridiculous necklace. Now that she was looking, she was pretty sure a few of them were bloody. Ew.

  A moment later, the ship was sitting on the tarmac, and Tatiana realized she had just spaced the last half of Jeanne’s instructions.

  Jeanne apparently realized this, too, because her fists whitened on the stick. “Girl,” she said.

  “Captain Tatiana Eyre,” Tatiana said.

  “Girl,” Jeanne said again. “You—

  “Captain,” Tatiana said.

  “—get in—”

  “Tatiana.”

  “—that ship—”

  “Eyre.”

  “—fire it up—”

  “To you.”

  “—and blow up—”

  “Collie.”

  “—anything that moves.” Jeanne twisted around in the captain’s chair. Her face was a thunderhead, daring Tatiana to interrupt her again. Silence fell between them, pounding and tense.

  “Except you,” Tatiana said.

  The pirate narrowed her eyes. “Obviously.”

  “One condition,” Tatiana said.

  “What, girl?” she asked in a frustrated growl.

  Tatiana jerked her thumb at the butterfly. “Whose crystal is that?”

  Jeanne’s green eyes never left her face. “Mine.”

  “It’s pretty.”

  “I took it off a dead woman,” Jeanne said, “After I carved out her double-agent tongue.” Still deadly calm, the pirate said, “When I’m bored, I like to look at it and remind myself what it was like to hear her scream.”

  Tatiana scrunched up her nose. “You’re worse than Milar.”

  “You have no idea,” Jeanne said softly. “Are you going to get off my ship now?”

  Tatiana grim
aced and glanced out the viewfinder at the ship she was supposed to fly. Unfortunately, it didn’t look all that familiar. She only had the vaguest tingling of memory, but she wasn’t about to tell Jeanne that, not when she’d been threatening her with a necklace. “Yeah, sure.” She stood up and moved toward the exit.

  “And girl?”

  Tatiana grimaced and glanced over her shoulder.

  “Fuck it up…” Jeanne touched the notch in the necklace again. “…and you’ll be right here.”

  Tatiana realized that this was an ideal time to utilize the Nine Rules of the OBRC. She took a deep breath, hesitated, then said, “Is that before or after you read your mammoth entrails to determine which day is most portentous to bathe this month?”

  “After,” Jeanne said. Then she smiled.

  It was the single scariest thing Tatiana had ever experienced in her life. She ducked out of the cockpit and ran for the exit.

  She was panting in the pilot’s seat of the TAG, powering it up, before she realized that she had, indeed, seen the inside of this ship before.

  Not a TAG. This TAG.

  Remembering where, Tatiana suddenly didn’t feel very good.

  “Girl, you gonna take off or what?” Jeanne demanded over the com.

  Tatiana stared at the windshield, remembering watching the ground rush up to meet her through it. Slowly, she got out of her chair. Every hair on her body was standing on end, and her pulse was zinging through her fingers, making them tingle.

  “Girl, what the hell are you doing?” Jeanne snapped. “Those Nephyrs are gonna be here any minute.”

  “Stop calling me girl!” Tatiana shrieked, trying to think. The last time she had seen this console, it had been melting under intense heat. Along with it, her skin had crackled open like a suckling pig. “This is a bad idea,” she finally said. “I’m coming back to your ship.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jeanne demanded. “No you’re not.”

  “I’m getting off this ship,” Tatiana said. “I’m not flying this thing.”

  “You can’t be serious.” It was Milar, this time. “Squid, we need you to fly that thing.”

  “I’m serious,” Tatiana said, remembering her own blood spilling across the ship’s aluminum floor. She remembered ruby puddles build around her as the fires spread, working their way toward her lifeless fingers and face. She watched her eyes close, watched herself die. The déjà vu was so thick that she could almost feel her own ghost tracing its icy fingers down her neck. “Serious as a goddamn heart-attack.”