[Hypothesis: Creator means to exploit both the labor and natural resources of this planet in situ. The population is too large to remove, and both agricultural land and pharmo/industrial crystal are valuable.]
[Search: Planets which have been forcibly occupied by the Minertsan Consortium for purpose of resource and labor extraction=Five such planets in three systems, subjugated with assistance of Thrane troops during Ren Sennik’s time as Labor Minister of the Consortium. Program was discontinued upon discovery of Sennik’s treasonous plot to overthrow the Oligarchy. STOP.]
[Hypothesis: Technology allowed resistance on subject planets, requiring the use of mercenary troops. Sentient life was destroyed. Economic loss was incurred. A lack of working technology on the target planet would allow for quick subjugation of its population.]
[Observation from stored data: Subjugation of sentient populations for purpose of forced labor is defined as “slavery.” Slavery is against intergalactic law in all sections of inhabited space except for the Minertsan Consortium and some unallied sectors of the Outer Reaches.]
[Shame? Fear?] [Shut down emotional computation thread (third attempt).]
[Recall basic programming: the Minertsan Consortium is meant to control the galaxy.]
[Search: Official justification for slave labor in Minertsan Consortium=(Subsets: Civil Wars I and II; Economic; Interstellar Travel; Historic; Mindwipe; Moral/Ethical; Opposition to; Origins in Relation to Rise of Hormuss Trade; Political/Strategic; Racial Characteristics of; Sennick’s Laws of Dominance—]
--BiN. I have spoken to the captain. He insists you disconnect from the engines of his ship and reconnect to the batteries we have provided for you before we proceed with the test. Do that now, please.
[Anger! Frustration!] That is an inefficient use of resources, Creator.
--Agreed. But it is necessary for the ship to function properly. And it is the captain’s prerogative. Furthermore, it is my command. Reroute your power connection.
[Recall basic programming: You will accept your orders from the Creator and no other, unless authorized by the Creator.] Understood, Creator. Rerouting now.
--Very good. Have you identified the technology sources on the planet below?
--Yes, Creator. After I have consumed the tech energy, you intend to enslave the population and use them to exploit the planet’s resources?
--That is our intention.
--You will not harm the sentient beings?
--The sentient beings are a resource, just as the hormuss crystals and the arable land are resources. We do not wish to harm them. That is why you are here. By rendering their technology useless, you make it impossible for them to resist. We can use Ninoctin guards, not Thrane shock troopers, to organize them for labor. You make it possible to save lives, BiN.
[Observation from stored data: Official reports from previously subjugated planets using Thrane troops support Creator’s hypothesis that limiting resistance will save lives.] [Pride! Relief!]
--I am ready, Creator.
--You may proceed, BiN.
Sonny slammed his hand down on the barrel of the shotgun. The old woman was startled and fell back. She didn’t lose the gun, but it discharged harmlessly into the oak floor with a splintering boom! Sonny hit her upside the head with the butt of his revolver, and she sagged to her knees. He snatched the shotgun out of her hands and turned on the dogs, who were barking their heads off and circling, trying to figure out how to get at him.
“No! Don’t you hurt them pups or I swear I’ll tear you to pieces myself.” The old woman was holding a hand to her bleeding head, but her voice was strong, and she looked like she meant business.
“Tell ’em to shut up, then!” One of the mutts was jumping at his ankle, teeth snapping.
“Willie! Merle! Hush up now! Hush! Come over here by me and sit. Come on!”
The dogs slunk around Sonny, keeping a wary eye on him all the while, and did as she said. They sat on either side of their fallen mistress, still growling deep in their throats.
“What the hell are you after, Sonny?” she said, glaring up at him. “I don’t have anything in this house you could want—no money, no drugs. Hell, I don’t even have a TV.”
“I don’t need none of that shit!” Who did she think he was, some kind of low-class junkie punk?
“No, I don’t reckon you do.” She drew her legs up to sit crosswise on the floor, dabbing at her head with a tissue she’d found in her pajama pocket. “I imagine you get all the oxy you need from Doc Rainey. I hear he pays you boys pretty good, too. So why are you in my bedroom at five o’clock in the morning?”
“I need you, old woman.” And I don’t have time for long-ass explanations. “So how about you get your butt up and get dressed. We’re going to see Doc right now.” He gestured with the gun to get her moving.
She stood, weaving a little bit. The dogs scrambled to their feet with her.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me why Doc Rainey needs to see me at this hour?” She shuffled toward her closet, holding on to a chest and a wall along the way, as if she was afraid she would fall. She turned on a light in the closet and reached for a few things hanging there.
“I ain’t telling you nothing. Just do what I say and you won’t get hurt.”
She glared at him from the closet door. “I’m already hurt, you moron. I’ve got a bump on my head the size of a goose egg. It’s a wonder my brains aren’t leaking all over the damn floor.”
“Well, what did you expect me to do—let you shoot me?” Louise Shelton was old, but she wasn’t dead yet. Sonny knew better than to take her for granted.
“Hmph. You gonna watch me get dressed, too, you little pervert?” The dogs turned and looked at him as if he were lower than dirt.
“Shit, no! Crazy old bat!” He waved a hand at her and faced the wall. “Just . . . get on with it, for Chrissake!” He could still see her out of the corner of his eye—he wanted to make sure she wasn’t going for her cell phone or another gun in that closet—but he really didn’t want to see anything. Soon enough she stood in front of him in jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. She put an old slouch hat on her head and a big barn coat down to her knees, and with a gnarled walking stick in her hand she looked ready to go. The dogs were confused, pacing and dancing in place like they thought they might be going somewhere, too.
He waved the pistol again, indicating the door. “Let’s go.” She told the whining dogs to stay and preceded Sonny out the front door. He gladly shut the door in their disappointed doggy faces.
It took every bit of fifteen minutes to negotiate the treacherous path to the bottom of the hollow in the snow and the dark. He was convinced the old woman made more of the slippery footing and impenetrable darkness than necessary, moaning and complaining and taking forever to pick her way down. After all, she must have been up and down this path a thousand times. She’d chosen to live up here, hadn’t she? Wasn’t his damn fault she couldn’t live in the old folks’ home like regular people.
But they made it at last, just as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. He followed a snowplow to Doc’s farmhouse, on the road way ahead of any folks brave enough to try to get to work in the waning storm. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Doc Rainey’s face when he showed up with the solution to all their problems. He wanted to hear the boss admit he, Sonny, was a bona fide hero. He wanted a cold beer with his hot breakfast. Then he wanted to sleep for two days straight. Yep, that sounded like a pretty good plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Charlie awoke to an inquisitive whine in her ear and a cold nose nuzzling her neck. Without even opening her eyes, she threw out a hand to ruffle Happy’s fur and was rewarded with an enthusiastic head-nudge and a shuffle of paws. All of this was familiar, but she still couldn’t situate herself in time or place. She squinted through one half-opened eye at a clock on an unrecognized bedstand: 6:30 a.m.
Happy stepped back and woofed at her. Evidently the dog thought it was
time to get up. And the pale glimmer of light in the room indicated it was indeed morning. Her body did not agree.
Then the wheels of her cognition began to turn and everything fell into place. Charlie sat up with a jerk and realized she was alone in the bed. Rafe’s bed, of course. Rafe’s room. Images of what had gone on in that bed the night before brought a blush to her face and a warmth to her chest.
But her memories of what had happened the rest of the nightmarish evening dashed ice cold water on that cozy feeling. The attack. The . . . defense. She couldn’t bring herself to call it murder. And the end result would be that Rafe and Del would be leaving—soon. Her heart seemed to drop into a black void.
Happy was dancing impatiently next to the bed, urging her to Get up! Get up! Normally Hap would still be snoozing after a late night, too. But she could hear voices from the kitchen—Rafe was up with his dad. Since people were awake in the household, Happy wanted to make sure he got what was coming to him—kibble and access to the outdoors. Things he always got from her
Charlie swung her feet to the floor and stood up. So far, so good, though she seemed to be sore all over. Who knew sex could be such a workout? Well, maybe if you haven’t had any in years, she thought. And then have absolutely incredible sex. Followed by the shock of an assassin in the night. She blew out a breath. Her emotions were riding the dysfunctional elevator this morning—first up, then down, without stopping at any sane floors.
She slipped into her clothes and headed for the bathroom, grateful she’d taken a minute to shower before sleeping. Her hair, though, that was another problem altogether. She grimaced at her image in the mirror, ran her fingers through the unruly auburn curls as best she could, and quickly plaited the mass into submission. Then she went out to face a world that looked so much different than it had 24 hours ago.
Charlie hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, suddenly unsure of herself. Rafe was at the sink, rinsing dishes, his back to her.
But Del squinted at her over his scrambled eggs. “You’re early. I haven’t finished breakfast.”
“Um, yeah. I guess I am. How are you this morning, Del?” No sense in explaining . . . anything, really.
“The eggs are good. You should have some.” He went back to scarfing them up.
Rafe smiled at her, drying his hands at the sink. She could see the fatigue weighing him down in the way he stood, leaning against the counter like he needed the support. But his eyes were filled with a special kind of welcome. That look warmed her all the way to her fingertips.
“You want coffee?”
She joined him where he stood. “Oh, only about a gallon of the stuff. Please.” She craved the reassurance of his arms around her. She needed to kiss him before he was gone like a dream in the night. She glanced at Del, concentrating on his breakfast. They probably shouldn’t . . .
But Rafe already had his palm against her cheek. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered. Then he kissed her, just a brief, warm brush of his lips on hers. Still, she felt its impact all the way to her core.
“I missed you this morning,” she said. She hadn’t meant to say it, really. The words just slipped out.
“Believe me, I wanted to be there.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “The old man’s an early riser.”
“He didn’t hear anything last night, I hope?”
Rafe shook his head. “Slept like a baby. He’ll be running on all thrusters today.”
Happy, standing at the door, woofed to go out. Reluctantly, she stood away from Rafe and moved to open the door. She watched Happy circle the yard, sniffing and marking every bush and tree in his territory, and tried not to think about the body that had taken up space on the outside stoop the night before. There was no sign of it now, either on the porch or in the pristine snow beyond, but she hoped the dog didn’t suddenly lift his head and take off for the woods to do some digging.
The snow had finally stopped, though the sky was still heavy with scudding clouds, and the tops of the pines bent in the wind. It smelled crisp, and new, as if everything that had gone before had been erased beneath the heavy cover of white. Charlie sighed. If only that were true.
Rafe came up close behind her as she stared out the door. “I’m sorry for last night. You didn’t sign up for anything like that.”
She turned to look at him. “No one really expects to wake up in the middle of the night with a killer in their living room. Are you telling me that was normal for you?”
“Not exactly.” His eyes revealed nothing, but he’d gone tense, the hands gripping her arms tightening ever so slightly. “But I’ve been thinking about it. I suspect Del and I are going to have to get used to it. We’ve run just about as far as we can run.”
Her heart stopped, then started again. “But you can’t stay here, Rafe! You said yourself they’ll send someone else. You can’t hold them off forever.”
“No, but I can’t just leave you here alone to face them, either, can I?” He smiled, but the twist of his lips was quickly gone. “This guy wasn’t local, but they must have someone on the ground working for them. Otherwise, how could they have found us so easily? That means they also know about you.”
Charlie swallowed against the fear that threatened to choke her. “They’d try to get me to tell them where you’d gone.”
“Yes. At least that.”
Charlie could see the worry in Rafe’s eyes. No doubt he wouldn’t elaborate because he didn’t dare, but she could guess what other uses a gang of criminals might have for her.
“Okay, then what?” she said. “You just keep adding to the cemetery in the woods—until one day the other guy gets lucky?”
Rafe wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “I’m still working that out. Maybe they’ll just get tired. After all, Del hasn’t got that much time left. And if I know the Old Man, he’ll beat them to the punch and die in his sleep.”
“Hey!” Del’s reedy and combative voice broke into their conversation. “If you two have finished your little make-out session over there, I’m done with breakfast. I need a clean-up before the Today show.”
Rafe caught her hand and squeezed it before he turned back to his father. “Okay, okay. Keep your jumpsuit on.”
Charlie let him go and set about clearing the table, moving like some maladjusted robot from a Fifties scifi flick. She was having a hard time thinking through what Rafe had just said, since every time she registered he planned to stay, her whole body flushed with grateful relief. Her heart was slamming against the inside of her chest, and she could barely breathe. One night with him and she was this far gone? For God’s sake!
She had just poured herself another cup of coffee and set herself down at the table for a good talking-to when an alarm pinged softly somewhere in the living room. At the same time, Happy started kicking up a racket in the back yard, barking an alarm. Charlie jumped up from the table and ran in Rafe’s direction.
He glanced up with a frown from the tablet in his hands. “Stay with the Old Man. We’ve got visitors again.” He silenced the pinging alarm and threw the tablet aside to pick up his weapon. He checked to make sure it was in order and paused at the door. “I can’t imagine they would send another team so soon. Probably just a delivery truck coming up the driveway.”
She nodded. She did think, try not to shoot it, then, but she didn’t say it. Her mouth was too dry to speak. She went to the back yard and called Happy in, a job that took some doing. She’d known he was protective of her, especially around Sonny, but he’d expanded his watchdog role lately, almost as if he’d been trained for it. She’d trained him above all to listen to her, though, so he took his alarm down to a whine and ran through the house to watch for intruders out the front.
Del looked up from the television. “What the hell is going on?”
Charlie put a hand on Del’s arm. “Somebody coming up the drive. Rafe’s just gone out to check on them.”
“Oh. Good. The boy’ll take care of them.” He went back to hi
s show, unconcerned.
Not for the first time, Charlie wondered at Del’s state of mind. How much did he understand? How much did he remember? He hadn’t had a violent episode in almost a week—was that usual? And how much did her presence—and Happy’s—have to do with that?
Charlie waited, the chipper banter of the morning show hosts grating on her nerves. It seemed like an hour, but it was only a few minutes before she heard the car pull up close to the house. Then there were boots clomping on the deck—and voices.
Rafe was clearly angry. “You can talk to him all you want,” he was saying as he passed in front of the windows. “But you won’t get anywhere, I’ve told you before.”
He kicked off his boots outside, opened the door and came in, followed by the woman who had hired her so many months ago to take care of Del—Layla? No, Rayna. With her was a tall, dark-haired man who might have been the scariest, sexiest man she’d ever seen (except maybe for Rafe), and striking woman with blond curls pulled into a French twist. Everyone was bristling with weaponry, and they were dressed in what looked like military jumpsuits, but sported no identifying patches or insignia.
Happy viewed these new visitors with suspicion, standing at Charlie’s side, his nose in the air. He sneezed more than once. Charlie was waiting for Rafe to make the first move.
But it was Del who broke the awkward silence. “Well, Rescue at last! ’Bout time you people got here!”
Well, borazt! Now the shit’s hit the thrusters, Rafe thought. He stood back and watched in something like horror as Rayna and the others greeted his father and were introduced to Charlie. Charlie shot him a look around the crowd of bodies, one he could interpret very easily: Who the hell are these people, and what are they doing here?
Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4 Page 21
