Monkey's Luck

by Bonnie Milani

  those slender little wands to any part of the body and its energy field linked directly into the

  victim’s nervous system – and tore it apart. Felt like being burned alive from the inside out. I

  knew. As part of their ‘entertainment’ Kriegsman and his buddies had shoved one up inside me.

  Hells, I ought to pat the boy on the back. I wouldn’t have been able to stick to a story of any kind

  under that kind of pain.

  “Ma’am?” Roy touched his ribs and winced.

  “What?” I noticed that even the slight movements he made looked pained. “Has anyone

  injured you?”

  “No, ma’am. I woke up hurting.” He touched his ribs and winced again. “It must be from

  when you … put me in the life pod, Ma’am.”

  “That’s good. You cost too much to have you damaged for no good purpose.” I saw his eyes

  narrow and hid a smile. I didn’t like trusting him, not at all. But I was sure he wanted to get

  Romeo out, and I was about the only hope he had of managing it. So he probably wouldn’t turn

  me in. At least not until he found a brass ass who wanted a lady boy.

  All I could do was hope his story held long enough for me to figure a way to get us back to

  the freighter and get the hell out of here. Made me wonder if Roy hadn’t come up with a way for

  managing that, too. “So what else did you tell them?”

  He shut down any answer as the doors at the far end of the ward swung open. A pair of

  uniformed human polar bears strode in, carrying combat grade laser rifles. I should not have

  wondered how much worse it could get. The Streikern guards stepped aside to let a brass ass

  officer stroll through the space between them. And my blood drained straight down to my toes.

  I’d have recognized that square-jawed, blue-eyed face in the darkest pit of the deepest hell.

  Herman Kriegsman. The only thing that’d changed about him was his rank. Five years ago he’d

  been a captain. He’d prospered since then. Now, he wore colonel’s insignia. I’d spent those five

  years seeing Kriegsman’s contorted face leering down at me in my nightmares.

  And here was me chained to a gobbing bed.

  My first thought was to break for the opposite door and take the damn bed with me. But

  Kriegsman’s eyes flicked over me with no trace of recognition. It took me a terrified second to

  realize the truth: the brutal sonuvabitch had no idea who I was.

  The reason kicked in as the terror faded. Of course he didn’t recognize me – five years ago I’d

  been a brown-skinned, brown-eyed innocent, an untyped natural who wasn’t even legally human.

  Even if he’d ever bothered to remember my old name, he had no reason to match it to an Aryan

  sergeant. I was the only one who remembered.

  I felt the kill lust kindle a glitter in my eyes – and just as quick felt it fade. I didn’t need to kill

  Kriegsman, not any more. Romeo had wakened the first hope of happiness I’d felt in years. Faint

  as that hope was, I needed it more than I needed to add Kriegsman to my kill list. What I needed

  now was to get Romeo and Roy and me out of here.

  For the first time I felt a profound gratitude to Roy. Convincing Kriegsman I was one of his

  own was the only way we were going to survive. Now it was time for me to play my part.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” I yanked at my wrist cuff. “We are innocent survivors –”

  “Let us dispense with the protests of innocence, Sergeant Vahrheitsyaeger.” Kriegsman made

  the rank sound dirty. “It hardly suits your position.”

  I almost grinned. He’d bought into my Marine ID. So either he got it from the name and rank

  insignia on my armor, or his people had read the freighter’s link records. From what I

  remembered of Kriegsman it was probably a combination of both. Praise all the gods in the

  neighborhood that Roy could think under torture. His story fit right in. My hopes shot upward.

  “Do you always believe everything you see, Colonel Kriegsman?” I saw my challenge strike

  home. He hadn’t expected me to know his name. “Now enough of this. You’ve wasted quite

  enough of my time, Colonel. End this nonsense and release me!”

  Keeping my eyes on his I lifted my cuffed hand. For one eternal moment I feared I’d overshot

  my mark. Then he tugged a link key out of his pocket. Stepping up beside me he slid the key

  across the cuff. The metal ring dropped away from my wrist.

  “Oooh, Ma’am! Tell him to release me! Pretty please!” Roy bounced on his bed, happy as a

  kid with fresh candy. By now, I knew him well enough to realize it was just an act.

  Kriegsman glanced at me. “What do you want done with your…toy?”

  “Uncuff him,” I told Kriegsman. “He’s harmless.”

  “As you wish.” Kriegsman stepped over to Roy’s bed and unlocked the Sprite’s handcuff. If

  he noticed Roy’s hopeful flutter he ignored it.

  “Now, then,” I sat up, rubbing feeling back into my wrist. “What have you done with my

  Lupan prisoner?”

  “The Lupan is under control…” Kriegsman hit that blind spot where my rank should have

  been and hesitated. I managed not to grin. There’s nothing an Aryan hates like he hates not

  knowing whether his intended victim just might outrank him. He settled for caution. “We will

  continue this conversation in my office, Vahrheitsyaeger. Fifteen minims. The orderlies can get

  you a uniform.”

  With that, he strode out of the ward, polar bears in tow.

  Chapter 4

  Ten minims later I strode out of the sick bay wearing a crinkly new jumpsuit. The dark olive

  uniform bore no insignia, which suited me just fine. I stopped outside the sick bay doors, right in

  the middle of the walkway, and stuck fists on my hips, elbows out and chin up in true Aryan

  obnoxiousness. Outside, the sun had reached early evening. Daytime at any hour in a desert is

  generally a blazing experience. But Aram’s sun was a more amber star than Earth’s. Its light was

  tawny, its warmth gentle. Late afternoon sun gleamed on the vehicles trundling along the base’s

  broad central road instead of flaring. The air was still dusty, and stank of overheated machinery.

  But it was air – open and free and I was still alive to breathe it. It felt glorious, even through that

  unending headache. I sneezed out my first lungful and took my bearings.

  The base was laid out like a wedge of pie cutting into the vast circle of the landing pads.

  Kriegsman’s bunker and the related command offices lined the outside curve of the wedge. The

  post’s main drag arrowed straight down the center of the wedge to converge at a series of hills in

  the distance. Portable admin trailers lined both long sides of the wedge. Across the main road the

  buildings petered out as the road narrowed toward the hills so the narrow tip of the wedge

  pointed toward the hills and the yellow emptiness of the desert beyond. Squinting, I could just

  make out dark caverns within the hills. The hills there had been hollowed out to form hangars for

  Kriegsman’s fighter squadron.

  A fighter squadron. On an active Army base. Here, on a so-called neutral world, on the edge

  of the DMZ on the eve of the one set of peace talks that were likely to hold. This situation was

  just not looking any better. I decided I didn’t want to think about the reasons behind this base’s

  existence. At least, not beyond how in all the hells I was going to get Romeo, Roy, and me out of


  here.

  I sighted up the other side of the road. Kriegsman’s office wasn’t hard to find. Officers’ huts

  were where they always were, close to Command – and, of course, to the commissary and rec

  room delights. Rows of grunts’ huts crowded the desert side of the wedge’s perimeter. The

  stockade was impossible to miss. It was twice as large as just about anything around it. They

  must be running some heavy penalties to warrant a stockade that size. Made me wonder how

  they handled anybody whose mouth was too big for his rank. I decided I didn’t need to wonder

  too hard.

  A mechanical bellow reminded me I was standing in the middle of the street. I skipped out of

  the way of an empty transport. Its pilot leaned out to give me a snapshot of my ancestry. I stifled

  a grin as she caught sight of my white-blond features and ducked back out of sight. Aryans must

  have as bad a rep on this base as everywhere else. She rumbled past, leaving me choking on her

  dust.

  I started toward the Command hut when my stomach growled. Gods, I was hungry! I stepped

  out of the way of another transport to think. Must’ve been twenty-thirty hours since I’d eaten

  anything other than that cookie. No wonder I had a headache. I couldn’t afford to face

  Kriegsman with my head pounding. I was going to need all my wits and borrow a few to boot if I

  was going to pull off this Aryan interrogator act. That decided me: food first.

  I’d made it halfway to the commissary when an officer’s skimmer swooped up alongside me.

  The driver dipped her nearest wing tip to bring herself into my line of sight and lifted a palm.

  Grinning, I gave her the open palm sign of the Sisterhood. She nodded, jerked her head toward

  one of the barracks, then took off. The backwash from her repulse field spat dust down my fresh

  new uniform. I flipped her off for form’s sake, got a wing-waggle acknowledgement.

  I felt some of the tension drain out of my shoulders. Maybe the situation wasn’t totally

  hopeless after all. There was a Sisterhood contingent here. The sisters would put me up. And

  they wouldn’t expect me to give ‘em all a free ride for the favor, either.

  Chapter 5

  The mess hall was about halfway down the main drag. I stuck to the side of the pedestrian

  pathway to avoid getting run over by the transports rumbling past. Clearly the word on me was

  already out. Newbie striding along in a no-rank uniform on a secret base – the squaddies

  scurrying past should’ve been falling over each other trying to crane a look. Nobody gave me so

  much as the once over. But I felt the dagger stares between my shoulder blades. Made me doubly

  grateful when the commissary door closed behind me.

  The death stares drove home just what kind of base this was. I’d been all right so far, probably

  thanks to Roy’s quick thinking more than anything else. But Romeo hadn’t had anyone to cover

  for him. I knew, with a sudden cold fear, that Kriegsman had probably already used one of those

  damn neural wands on Romeo. I didn’t know if I could get the man out or not, but if I couldn’t

  I’d damn well get him a clean death. In the interim at least I could get him something to eat.

  At this hour the chow hall was close to empty. My stomach went into Jump drive the instant

  the smell of hot coffee and bacon hit my nose. I washed down a couple of egg and sausage roll

  ups with a cup of joe, then earned an admiring whistle from the hash slinger by cadging six more

  to go. Doubt he’d have been so impressed if he’d known I was taking them to Romeo. I didn’t

  know what Lupans normally liked but if my guess was right the rollups would be more than he’d

  have got from the jailers.

  Outside, the evening was still warm. Wasn’t hot far as I was concerned. But, then, I’d grown

  up in the frying heat of the Losandiego desert. Any weather didn’t boil water in your cup

  qualified as cool. Judging from the sweat running down the grunt squads jogging past, I held the

  minority opinion. ‘Course, Aram’s arctic probably would’ve felt warm to the soldiers panting

  past me: every last one of them was a Streiker native. The fact there were so many of them here

  added one more item to my ‘don’t want to think about it’ list.

  Only good thing I’d found so far was that the stockade was right next to the hospital. Not

  surprising: anybody Kriegsman took prisoner would need medical assistance close at hand. Or

  the morgue.

  The stockade looked like just one more nondescript gray barracks except for the lack of

  windows. A sec shield hazed the air around the wired-in exercise yard. The yard was empty.

  Figured. Kriegsman’s kind of jail wouldn’t risk having a passer-by glimpse what his prisoners

  looked like after a day or two in his custody.

  The sign over the double doors simply declared ‘Detention Center’. Had to hand it to

  Kriegsman. He kept his operations neat. No base name, no Army reference, not even a guard at

  the door. Those would be inside. I pulled myself up, burped out egg, and dropped into a ramrod

  march. Time to play Aryan again.

  Inside, the admissions room was as bare as any other admissions room in any other military

  jail. Floor was concrete, walls extruded plasti-form with a couple of plasti-form benches thrown

  in for appearances’ sake. The pair of guards lounging on the benches snapped to attention as I

  walked in. I strutted past their salutes, snapping off a nose-up answering salute as I stepped up to

  the duty guard. The grunt on the duty desk came from some deep space miner clan. Sonuvabitch

  was massive enough to make all the comm equipment cluttering the desk look like sample-sized

  toys. He glared at me through a night’s growth of beard stubble. Even across the width of the

  desk, I heard the rumble of his empty stomach.

  “I’m here to see the Dog,” I announced.

  I saw his nose twitch. He pretended to check his roster but his eyes kept straying to the bag in

  my hand. No doubt about it; he’d smelled those sausages. I tucked the bag of rollups behind my

  back and he lifted his glare off my elbow. “Got no auths for an interrogator, I ain’t.”

  “My name’s Vahrheitsyaeger. Since when does that name need authorization?”

  “Colonel’s orders-”

  “Were issued before I arrived.”

  He was not impressed. Okay, intimidation wasn’t going to work; time for bribery. I swung the

  bag of sausage wraps out from behind my back, pulled it open and lifted one of the greasy

  sandwiches out. Takes a lot of food to power a miner’s mass. As I’d hoped, his eyes followed the

  sandwich. “Colonel always make his night duty people go hungry?”

  “Ain’t talking about the Colonel, I ain’t.”

  “I didn’t expect you to. You’re a smart boy.” I peeled back another layer of wrap, making

  sure to waft the sandwich under his nose. “Bet your orders let you grab a snack at your desk,

  though.”

  His eyes target locked on the food. He licked his lips – then pulled his chin in, eyes going

  narrow. “You’d rat me out, you would!”

  “How could I?” I placed the sandwich on the desk and slid it toward him. “I won’t be here to

  see you, will I?”

  His glance slid past me to the guards, bribery in his eyes. Stifling a grin, I pulled another

  sandwich out of the bag.

  “Cell four.” He touched a con
trol on one of the consoles, then picked up the sandwich. “Just

  unlocked it.”

  I stifled a start. I liked Romeo too much for my own good, but I sure as hell wouldn’t have

  unlocked that man’s cell until I had the doorway covered five ways from Sunday. I gave the

  guard a two-finger salute, grabbed the bag with the remaining four roll ups in it and strode

  through to the cell block. I smelled it before I even tried the door. The cell smelled of blood and

  piss and worse. I did a quick eyeball of the room as I pushed the door open: no john, no cot, not

  even a bundle of straw. A room for death, not detention. An interrogation chamber.

  Romeo was spread-eagled on one slimy wall. His feet dangled about a meter off the floor,

  putting his full weight was on his arms. It also put that magnificent musculature of his on full

  display – and the long, angry welts criss-crossing his torso. The sight of those welts woke a

  slow-burning rage in my gut. Kriegsman had wasted no time working him over.

  I pushed the door three-quarters closed behind me before I risked speaking. Gloomy as the

  cell was I saw his ears perk when I entered. A part of my heart dreamed it was because he’d

  scented me. Only the way his nose twitched told me he’d smelled the sausage.

  “Brought you something to eat.” Stupid thing to say, but sight of him on that wall wiped all

  real thought out of my mind.

  “Why?” His ears went flat. Beneath them, his amber eyes gleamed in the shadows. “So I’ll

  last longer under your questioning?”

  “No, ‘cause I knew you’d be hungry. I never expected…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I

  yanked a rollup out of the bag, tore it open to hide the tears burning my eyes. “I’ve told them

  you’re my prisoner. I’m hoping that’ll get you fair treatment.” Unless… an unhappy possibility

  sprang to mind. “You didn’t kill anybody, did you?”

  “Didn’t have the chance. Your pack mates flooded the life pod with knock out gas before they

  opened the hatch. I was chained when I woke up.” He shrugged, as much as he could. “My own

  fault. I should never have trusted a flat tooth.”

  I lifted a sandwich to his lips. He jerked his head away with a snarl. “Look, choom, you don’t

  eat you’re not going to be any good to anyone, least of all yourself.”