by Scott Moon
That had hurt the big man’s feelings. He was awfully sensitive for a massive tower of testosterone. Having the radio was nice, but she doubted she would use it because by the time she needed him that badly, she wouldn’t be able to wait for him to come running, or walking, or whatever the big guy did when rescuing cute little damsels like Dixie.
The men standing on their corners near their warming fires knew her and would not harass her. They didn't want to be on her shit-list. Getting banned from the Mother Lode was possibly the worst fate imaginable in Darklanding. Nevertheless, she didn't feel safe.
The town looked ten years older than it was. Cheaply-paved roads and rows of temporary structures hadn't aged well. There hadn't been sufficient street lighting in the first place and half of it didn't work now. Shadows moved where they shouldn't.
She walked briskly, rarely looking back but aware of her surroundings nevertheless. A woman walking alone at night, constantly glancing over her shoulder, looked suspicious. It also showed weakness. It was a good way to attract predators.
Instead, she used reflections in windows to check for followers. She casually glanced down streets whenever she turned a corner. She'd been attacked and beaten, and worse things, many times before she rose to her current position.
She'd come a long way. Now she was ready to take the next step, ready to rise to a higher level. The desperation of her youth made her who she was today. She never relied on one solution to a problem. She was the madam of the Mother Lode but also had ten side hustles in progress. That was a lesson she'd learned well. Never put all your eggs in one basket.
She wouldn't tell the woman she was meeting tonight about her other business ventures. If this spymaster could deliver what she was offering, Dixie wouldn't need the other hustles, but she'd keep them all the same.
The shadow woman waited near a vacant lot meant to be a park someday. There were trees and shrubbery, but nothing arranged by a landscape artist. Everything was wild and shaggy. Two-story temporary buildings and warehouses surrounded the someday-park.
Dixie saw the hooded woman. Her disguise needed work. The signs of wealth and influence were obvious to Dixie. No matter how dirty or unkempt this woman's clothing was, underneath, she was a person of privilege. She slouched, but it was a fake slouch. She acted afraid, but clearly wasn't.
The ominous threat of the Darklanding streets had also receded, probably because the mystery woman had a security detail that had locked down the area.
Dixie went along with the charade.
"You came alone, good," the woman said.
"Did I?"
The woman paused, raising a hand to one ear and ducking her face into her hood. She was probably communicating with her security team, ordering them to check the area again.
Dixie interrupted her. "I completed my mission. What else do I have to do to prove myself?"
Irritated, the woman cut her secretive conversation short. Now she was off balance, glaring at Dixie with resentment. This was a clue. If the woman still wanted to do the deal, then Dixie had the advantage. She had something they wanted.
"Do not presume too much," the woman said. "You're talented. Your performance clearly demonstrates that much. But you are not the only one we've recruited."
Dixie crossed her arms and waited.
"There is much you don't know," the woman said.
Dixie almost recognized the voice.
"Your mission on Melborn was satisfactory. You have proved you can keep a secret and that you're surprisingly adept at gathering human intel," the woman said. "You've shown you can run a brothel, which is a surprisingly unique skill."
"So do I have the job or not?" Dixie asked, using a low-class accent as she planted one fist on her hip.
"Don't play the simpleton role with me. You might be from the streets, but you're far more sophisticated than you want everyone to believe," the woman said.
"Maybe this is the real me. You have a problem with that, you with a silver spoon in your mouth?" Dixie asked.
The woman bristled but didn't take the bait. "We are expanding our operation in the Wilok System. We need a master of spies, and my collaborators agree you are a good choice. But first, I need your report on the Melborn mission."
Dixie told the story using the terminology and parameters that had been set by her controller. Certain things she could talk about directly. Other things had to be mentioned only with codewords and ciphers.
She'd flown coach, haggling over prices even though she wasn't paying for the trip. She flirted with security guards at checkpoints, made a scene at a restaurant when her order was wrong, and presented herself as low-class and loud-mouthed every chance she got.
She kept it real. She hid in plain sight. With her hair and breasts, there wasn't any other way to do it.
This drove her handler crazy. Which allowed her to slip free of the leash and do what they sent her to do. Once she was on her own, she became invisible and flew under the radar—no easy task for someone as gorgeous as she was.
Seducing Armand Soler had been easy. They spent a week on a tropical island drinking too much, having great sex—for him—and sharing secrets. Half of his pillow talk was worthless, but she learned even more than she shared with her shady employers.
Things were changing in the galaxy, and would be changing even more in the Wilok System. A side benefit of her secret mission was that she now had inside information on several large projects very few people knew anything about. She thought she should talk with Shaunte, maybe team up, but decided against it.
They'd never been great friends.
When Dixie was done explaining what she had done and why she had done it, the hooded woman remained silent for several moments. Dixie resisted the urge to add to her story. That would look unprofessional. It would also reveal how nervous she was, despite what she told herself to the contrary.
"Your report is colorful, and as accurate as required. You did realize we were monitoring your progress?"
"As best you could. I'm sure your agents were thorough. Any inconsistencies between their report and mine should be attributed to their limitations," Dixie said.
"Such arrogance. Do you think you’re better than my people without having any training? I hire men and women who have served in special forces or been raised to be spies from early childhood," the woman said.
Dixie didn't answer.
"Regardless of how I feel about your attitude, you have the skills to do what we need and have proven yourself. Consider yourself our master of spies in the Wilok System," the woman said.
"Are you going to tell me who I'm working for?"
"That won't be necessary. You will be contacted by your new handler. The challenge phrase is peanut butter pizza. The response is chalk."
"That's it?"
"Simple is best," the mystery woman said.
"Of course," Dixie said. She started to leave, but stopped. "There is one more thing."
"Is there? I'm not sure you understand who is in charge. There is only one more thing if I say so.”
Dixie pressed the issue. “I have additional assets to offer."
"Not interested," the woman said, looking Dixie up and down.
"Not that. You’d have to pay me extra for that. I haven’t dipped into the lady pond for years. I’m talking about work for my girls."
"I'm even less interested in pillow talk from a bunch of whores.”
Dixie crossed her arms. “Fine, then I won't tell you which of your security staff have already been compromised by my girls."
"You have my attention."
"Come closer, so I can whisper in your ear. One of them is with you right now."
The negotiations changed after Dixie proved her point. The woman agreed to train six candidates Dixie selected. This would provide them new lives, new identities, and a comprehensive education beyond what was needed for spying.
She was more than satisfied with the result, but suspicious that the mysterious woman acq
uiesced. There was a good chance she had been lowballed.
“Anything else?” the woman asked sarcastically.
"Actually, there is. The Mother Lode won't work for what I have in mind. I'll need someplace with a little more class, like my own starship or a space station. Someplace where I can control access. What would happen if someone had a dangerous secret and I needed to hold onto them? On my own station, I could simply lock them down until your security goons arrive take custody."
The woman laughed uncontrollably.
Which was all Dixie needed to recognize who she was. She'd seen this woman on Melborn. The name eluded her, but she would figure it out.
"I'll take it under advisement." The woman left. Several shadows separated from their hiding places to follow her. Most walked like humans and carried guns, but one might have been Maximus if it were larger.
CHAPTER FOUR: Dixie’s Espionage
Judy Ortega couldn't wait to get out of the stinking rags she'd worn to her last meeting. She wanted off this planet and away from all these rugged, arrogant as hell frontier types. Her own starship? What the hell was that?
"Give me an update, Carter," she said as she marched into the apartment building Interstellar Enterprises maintained on Darklanding. It was a boring, prefabricated structure like everything else in this town. The efforts her advance team had made to furnish it with the latest styles only emphasized its shabby nature.
Carter was young for his position. Quiet and unassuming, he nevertheless commanded the respect of the men and women he led. He was fit, extremely intelligent, and loyal.
"My snipers confirmed she came and left alone. I assigned Remi and Johnson to follow her. They're wondering if she's drunk or something because she's wandering all over the place. I told them she's probably trying to lose a tail," Carter said.
Ortega stepped onto the lift and waited for Carter and two of his men to join her. They rode up in silence. She stepped off the moment the door opened and strode into her spacious if generic apartment. Carter followed. His men posted by the door.
She stripped out of the disguise and stepped into the shower. Carter stood by the sink, waiting patiently.
"What did you think of Miss Dixie?"
"I don't think you like her," Carter said.
"She's not as smart or as attractive as she thinks she is."
"She was able to draw Armand Soler out of hiding," Carter said.
Ortega soaped up and rinsed off. "And how do you think she did that?"
"Her charming smile?"
"Don't ever change, Carter. Your youthful innocence is refreshing," she said sarcastically as she stepped out and toweled off. "I no longer have access to Proletan at will. The ShadEcon fiasco ruined that. I will have to renegotiate to get him back on retainer, which means he’ll be more expensive and harder to control. You'll have to take care of her."
He nodded, handing her a second towel before she asked for it. "Who'd she say was compromised on my team?"
"Wilson and Bobby," Ortega answered.
"They're both women."
"You're normally very thorough, Carter. But that was a mistake. Don't assume your female operators won't go to a brothel."
"It won't happen again."
Ortega dropped the towel and walked into the guest room that she was pretending was a decent closet. She selected a silk robe and put it on. "Take care of Dixie tonight. No mistakes."
“I thought she succeeded on Melborn?” Carter asked casually. He didn’t seem to care. Ortega accepted that he asked questions. His analytical nature was one of the reasons she kept him so close.
“No one can know what happened to Armand Soler. She drew him out of hiding, now she’s a liability. If she had proved more respectful—more of a team player like you—I’d have used her to run her little house of pillow secrets. Greed is a good thing; it makes people easy to manipulate. This woman, however, thinks she can blackmail me.”
“She never threatened to…”
Ortega spun toward him, fist clenched in anger. “I know her. She thinks she’s better than me!”
***
Kenneth Carter followed his routine, making sure each member of his team had checked in their gear and filed their reports. He didn't have time for his own shower, but he washed his face and armpits in the sink before donning a fresh jumpsuit, checking his weapons, and heading out into the night.
He touched his ear to toggle his comm system. "Talk to me, Remi."
"She circled back to the meeting place and seems to be searching for clues," Remi's voice scratched over the radio.
"Good, I'm almost there. Once I get eyes on her, you two can head in and get some rest."
"We'll stay with you, boss. There's some weird shit out here. I hate alien planets. Promise me we're going back to Melborn after this one," Remi said. "Johnson swears he saw a spider as big as his head."
"I'll keep that in mind. We're officially done for the night. Go in. I just want to have a look for a minute."
"Boss…"
He stepped to the corner of the someday-park and saw Dixie shining a light on the ground, probably counting footprints—gathering human intel on her enemies, like size, activity, location, unit, time, equipment…
Or maybe she’d lost a contact lens.
He smiled. The woman was an enigma, interesting for all of her idiosyncrasies and hidden talents.
"I have eyes on her. Get back to the apartment and get some sleep, that's an order," he said.
Remi and Johnson acknowledged. He waited until he was sure they were gone. By the time he was able to line up a shot, Dixie was sitting on a bench with weeds growing through it. He stared at her through the scope of his precision blaster.
She stood, adjusted her bra, and wiggled her hips to reposition her g-string, he imagined. Before he knew what was happening, she was on her way out of the park. He followed at a distance.
Stalking her would've been easy with Remi and Johnson bounding ahead on side streets to set up observation points, but he didn't want them involved in what had to happen. They were right, however, she was all over the place. Once, she climbed a fire escape, crossed to another building, and descended to the street.
He wondered if she was just trying to flash him. She had done that a lot when he had surveilled her in the Mother Lode. Covert surveillance had never been his favorite part of the job, but it was better in a place with lots of half-naked women.
During the next hour of cat and mouse, he had multiple chances to shoot her but talked himself out of it—there were possible witnesses, the wind wasn’t right, something was watching him and giving him goosebumps. All excuses.
He hated this part of the job, but no job was fun all the time. She was just a woman he didn't know who had pissed off his boss. The only problem was that his boss was wrong, Dixie was attractive, in a high mileage, bad girl way. He could imagine what she had looked like when she was his age. That made it harder, even though it shouldn't.
In the light of predawn, she arrived at a building he’d never seen before and he knew his mission had just changed.
A sliver of pink sunlight peeked over the Darklanding skyline. Carter was surprised at how diverse and interesting the view was. The town was made up of prefabricated buildings, but there were cranes, clusters of radio antennas and satellite dishes, and one section that appeared to be Unglok structures. He turned in a circle to observe as much of the town as possible.
This was something he did often, part of his situational awareness. It was how a young officer kept his people alive in combat.
The building Dixie entered was long, low, and hot. Carter moved closer and could feel the comparative humidity of the place. He smiled and shook his head, remembering details from his mission preparation research. The woman had a new greenhouse.
***
The man following Dixie was cute, if a bit young for her tastes. Leading him to the greenhouse was a calculated risk. She’d worried he would immediately call for backup and surro
und the place, not knowing what it was. She’d also been concerned he might follow her inside—attack her and worse.
His boy scout charm could be an act. In her experience, all men wanted the same thing. The only variance was how they got it. Sometimes these lily-white choirboys were the worst. But she didn't think so. This kid, Carter she thought his name was, seemed so genuine and competent that she wanted to steal him from Ortega, as she recalled the name, and give him a job. Doing what, she didn't know.
It was late. The streets of Darklanding were so quiet she could hear electricity powering the streetlights. All she could think about was her meeting with the woman. Had it gone well? Had it gone poorly? Was she losing her touch?
She was always suspicious when she got what she wanted without a fight. There were two possible reasons the woman had been such a pushover. One, Dixie hadn't asked for enough. Perhaps she underestimated her value to their spy organization. Two, the woman agreed to everything without much negotiation because she never intended to pay up.
She continued to walk, keeping her eye on the young security officer and her mind on the puzzle of her current situation. Was she ready to risk everything? Should she be concerned for just herself or should she try to bring some of her girls with her? Life was simpler when all she had to worry about was her own survival.
Leaving the greenhouse behind, she cut across town toward the rendezvous point she had planned. It was a long stretch and she had time to think and daydream. She imagined her girls strutting down a wide corridor in her private starship. A good-looking captain with broad shoulders who spoke like a gentleman told her they had arrived above Melborn.
The captain's executive officer, an extraordinarily hot young woman who was intimidated by Dixie's even better looks, complained that there were hundreds of people requesting access to Dixie's Delight. "It seems like everyone who's anyone wants to visit the ship."
Dixie smiled knowingly, staring at the planet on the viewscreen.
"Miss Dixie, may I see you in my state room?" the captain asked in his deep voice. His tone, normally gentlemanly, implied she was in trouble. She wondered if he would spank her like last time.