The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Oh well. Such is life. If a man played in the big leagues he had to pay the price every now and again. Here in Jefferson that price would entail nothing more than a headache for the few hours it took to get the Ranger to a hospital. In Chin the price would have been fatal.

  * * *

  "I see you made it."

  "Sure I made it," Helmet grinned. "I told you I'd be around. What the hell happened to the compound?"

  Field laughed bitterly. "We were betrayed. Apparently, we had infiltrators running all through our ranks. Turner was captured; he squealed to them; he escaped, and we got Turner back with all the valuable information he had gained while a prisoner. He told us an Intelligence operative named Aybarra had infiltrated Mays' outfit and that we had moles in our own ranks. Problem is, he told us all this too late for us to do anything about it, and now everything is gone to hell. We mined the compound and caught some feds when they attacked, but there's too many feds. Can't kill them all, and now I'm on their most wanted list. My picture's on the holovid every night, and they have posters up in every convenience store window. Damn government has seized all my known assets, so all I have left is this place."

  Klein took a careful look around. By most people's reasoning, the building they occupied represented plenty of assets and then some. He stood near the front entrance of an absolutely huge warehouse. The place was mostly empty, but there were goods stacked against one wall with half a dozen people sitting on them. He recognized Aaron's two worst enemies, Sergeants Aimes and Johnston. Benson, the chess-playing layabout was there, and so was Clack, the only man Helmet had ever repeatedly transported back and forth between the two worlds because Clack possessed his own minimal Transferring Talent. The only other man Helmet recognized was Johnston's favorite new recruit, Paxton, a young, hard-eyed bastard who had found a perfect fit in the Militia for his sadistic tendencies. The other two were a mystery to him. Off by itself was the half assembled monstrosity Field had been building for years, the one based on readings taken from his and Aaron's minds. Perhaps it was not so bad that Field's dream had gone bust before he got that thing finished.

  In all, Helmet guessed the building and its contents were worth in the neighborhood of half a million dollars. The secret floors and supplies beneath the building were probably worth another six million. Smiling grimly to himself, he turned his eyes back to Field. The two of them did have one thing in common. Simply being rich was not enough. They both desired power. Right now, the main difference between them was that Field had lost most of his power while Helmet's strength was still growing.

  "Yes," Field said bitterly, "this is all that is left. The rest has been stolen, and most of my people have run away. All I have left is this building and these few who are still loyal."

  He laughed hoarsely. "These few, and the ones you have already taken over to the other world. It's time, Helmet. It's time you took me over there. It's time you took the last of these goods and the last of my people and shipped us all over. Jefferson has rejected us. I will not return here again."

  "I can't do it," Helmet said while looking at the people and wishing they would get their asses off the piled goods. He could grasp the goods and run with them, but his Talent was not discerning enough to allow him to take only the goods he wanted and leave the sitting people behind. "Why don't you get Turner to try taking some of it?"

  "Turner has some answering to do," Field growled. "Corporal Benson especially wants to have a private conversation with him. No, I'm afraid you are it. I want you to send over the men and what goods you can right now. In a few days you will be strong enough to handle the rest."

  Helmet squinted in disgust while he thought that proposition over. The last thing he wanted was to send more of the General's people over to Chin. He had worked too hard to get rid of most of the ones he had already transported. All the ones who remained loyal to Field were gone. Only the opportunists, the greedy, and those willing to switch their loyalties were left.

  Well, he could always think of this as a test. The people he looked at were those supposedly most loyal to Field. It would be interesting to see how many he could turn. Most likely, it would not be too difficult to make them see reason. Remaining loyal was a losing proposition because Helmet had no intention of taking the General over with him when they traveled.

  "I can ship all the people and half the goods over now," he told Field. "The rest will go over in about a week. Will that make you happy?"

  "Ask me that question when I'm finally sitting on my throne," Field replied. "Only that will make me happy--that and Turner's head."

  "Your throne I will give you," Helmet lied. "You'll have to take Turner's head on your own."

  "Don't worry; I'll enjoy handling that little chore myself. Ship what you can now."

  Helmet nodded. After looking the situation over he directed the men to separate the piled goods into two unequal heaps. It was a good thing that this was going to be his last couple of chores for Field because until this moment Field had been left in ignorance that Helmet could ship a load over without traveling with that load himself. He could already see speculation revolving in Field's eyes.

  "Are you ready?" he asked the men when they were positioned.

  "As we can be," Aimes answered.

  "Well hang on then."

  Flicker

  Helmet viewed the newly empty spot with satisfaction. The goods and the people were away. They would arrive in the regular place to be instantly surrounded by the Chin tribe's people, separated, and then distributed to a few far flung clans on the edge of the warring front. If the men survived the fighting and the inner clan politics, they would see Helmet in another year or two. He would evaluate them then, except for Clack, of course, since Clack had already been over and back half a dozen times over the last several years. His loyalty belonged firmly to Helmet, a fact of which the General was still ignorant.

  "That's it," Field said decisively. "There's no turning back now. Nothing is left."

  "No," Helmet agreed, "there is no turning back."

  And then he heard a scratching behind him.

  Clink Clink Clank

  He stiffened. Nerves tense, he slowly shifted while Field turned white beside him. Several people, weapons in hand, had silently entered the locked building.

  "General Mays," Field said cautiously. "This is a surprise. We weren't expecting you."

  "I'm sure you weren't," that worthy replied. "Just as I'm sure that you're surprised to learn that my name is really Colonel David Feinstein of Intelligence, and this is Major Samuel Aybarra. Goodnight, gentlemen."

  Thrunk

  Looking down, Helmet saw the feathered end of a dart sticking out of his belly. The area around it was already numb.

  Thrunk

  Damn.

  He folded.

  Chapter 36

  Clang Clang Clunk Clang

  "Whoa there. What's the matter with you? Stop when I tell you to stop."

  Brian Haig managed to halt the wagon in front of the store, ready to pick up another delivery of milk. He still held his arm as if it pained him, but Aaron knew it was no longer broken. Doc had finally given in to Aaron's urging and used his Talent to speed the man's healing.

  "Cathy. Mister Turner." His voice was tight, guarded. When he looked at Aaron his eyes showed hooded deference and fear.

  Aaron nodded from where he sat in his wide chair on the boardwalk outside his rebuilt store. Despite his frequent treatments and Doc Gunther's enthusiastic appraisal, he was not ready to move on his own yet. His bones were no more than half healed, his stitches had only just been pulled, and his body was still fighting off an infection from when the lake water had entered his wounds.

  "Howdy," he said while Cathy, sitting beside him, smiled thinly at her husband. Haig gave her a long look and turned his eyes back to Aaron.

  "Sir, are you sure about keeping me on? I know I did wrong and--"

  Aaron waved for him to stop because, truthfully, he did not lik
e the sound of Haig's voice. Its tones were meek, but it held undercurrents of resentfulness and sullen disrespect.

  "No," he said, "I'm not sure, but you are Cathy's husband, and I owe her, so I won't take your job. However, I do have people watching you. If any sign of missing money appears, or if Cathy looks injured, they will pay you a visit that will make our last encounter seem gentle. Now please get back to work."

  "Yes sir." Haig's voice almost sounded respectful, but his eyes glowered.

  Cathy's gaze lay heavy on Aaron after Haig drove away. "Don't you think you are being a little hard on my husband?"

  "I think he was more than a little hard on you. I won't let him hit you again."

  "You don't have to worry about that anymore." Cathy patted her apron. "I gave him a demonstration. He is very impressed with me now that he knows what Baby can do. Actually, I think he might be more afraid of me than he is of you."

  "Have you threatened him?"

  "Not a word of it. I just let him see me practice shooting Baby three days ago. Been meek as a lamb ever since."

  Aaron remained silent for a few minutes. "That's no way to run a marriage," he finally said.

  "It's my marriage to run, and I don't see where I have all that much choice on how to run it."

  Her eyes were big. They glistened with unshed tears and with care and concern. Aaron knew she was thinking of what they had been to each other. She was remembering their nights of holding and talking and the plans she and Sarah had shared between them, plans intended to run Aaron to distraction. Probably, Cathy had not loved him, not the way he had loved and still did love her, but she had truly liked him and now regretted her decision. From the things she had said and the way she hovered around him, constantly brushing her fingers over his arm or adjusting his chair, Aaron had no doubt she would willingly become his lover if he asked it of her.

  It was a question he would never raise. Loving and making love to another man's wife in a land where divorce was not allowed was tawdry and low and a sure recipe for heartache and ruined lives. He would not compromise the tattered remnants of honor he had left, and he would never cause Cathy harm because he could not let the thought of her go.

  "Here comes Mistress Turner," Cathy said half bitterly. "I think it's time you saw to your own marriage instead of worrying about mine."

  She rose, one hand resting on his arm. Her fingers carefully squeezed his tender flesh, and her smile was a lie upon her face. "I will be fine, Mister Turner. My life will be fine. Don't you go wasting your worry on me." She walked away, shoulders stiff with pride, head held high in defiance of the life fate and bad decisions had given her. When he watched her outward strength Aaron wanted to cry because he knew the inside package had become brittle and weak. One small and unexpected blow could easily make her shatter. No, right now Cathy needed to be cared for and looked after, the way she had cared and looked after Missy and Doyle during those difficult years. She needed time for rest and healing, but he did not think she would get either. Brian Haig would not stay tame for very long.

  "You don't need to worry after her," Kit said as she settled into the recently vacated chair. "You have a lot of friends, and so does she. They will make sure she stays well. She'll have time to pull herself together."

  "In my land," Aaron said, "when matters become difficult in a marriage, one of the two people just walks away. In a year or two they go to a courthouse and have the marriage dissolved."

  Kit was quiet for a while, watching the street and the people walking its length. Aaron understood because he loved the view too. He loved to see ordinary people going about the business of living their lives and raising their families. He loved them for those lives, and he ached to be one of them, but the truth was that he was not of their kind. He knew that now. He was different from these people. He could play their games and live his lies among them, but his life and his experiences kept him from living with the simple outlook that was natural for them. Nothing he ever did, no pretense, would allow him to entirely fit in here. He was not sure he would fit in anywhere.

  "A man has no need to dissolve a marriage," Kit said. "He can marry as often as he desires. It's us women who are stuck for life."

  Her voice was filled with quiet longing. Aaron wanted to console her, but there was nothing he could say that would help. Like Cathy, Kit had tossed her dice, and they had fallen snake eyes.

  Clang Clang Clang Clang

  "Jorrin's working hard."

  "He always works hard," Kit said. Her voice changed. "I saw the doctor again. He said we tried too soon after the trauma of losing Sarah and the baby, so if we tried again I could conceive without a risk of losing the child."

  Smiling sadly, Aaron shook his head. "I don't think I'm up to the effort."

  Her hand reached out so her fingertips touched his arm. "Aaron, I don't want it at all. I'm sorry, but I don't want more children by you anymore. I hope this doesn't hurt you, but it needs to be said again. I don't love you. I don't want you as part of my life."

  Aaron winced. Pain twisted up his belly. So, she did not love him. Not a surprise because it was something he had known all along; she had told him this before, but a part of him did not want to hear the words.

  He laughed at himself, silently laughed at his own folly while pain and knots caught in his throat. How could he take this so personally when he did not love her either--but then--he could have loved her. He really could have learned to love her, except she had made it so plain that any love he bore would be carried alone.

  "I don't want to hurt you," Kit continued. "You are my husband, and I honor you for that. I admire you, and if I could ever love a man it would be you, but Aaron, I cannot love a man. I don't have it in me. You are my husband, but I would be happier if you were just my friend. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Aaron said, pushing his injured pride and his inner pain back into the cage where they belonged. Reaching out, he covered her hand with his fingers. The healing bones in his wrist gave a twinge of warning but no more because he was always careful how he moved. "Yes, I do understand. You are saying no sex."

  She winced. "That is a rather blunt way of putting it."

  "This is a rather blunt subject, and I agree with you."

  And he did agree because he wanted the same thing she did, but their agreement touched on a well of sadness inside him. An absent husband who was a friend and no longer a lover soon became ancient history. He knew this, and he could see in her eyes that she knew it too.

  Kit shifted slightly in her chair when her wrist twisted beneath his hand, and her fingers wrapped around his. Squeezing his fingers slightly, her eyes fastened on the two Wiggins boys shouting halfway down the street because they looked as if they were about to fight. Moments later Mistress Wiggins rushed out of the bank and grabbed both of them. The subsequent cries were far worse than the punishment she meted out deserved.

  Kara Perkins stepped out of the store. Wearing a flour-dusted apron and looking nervous, Steven Knight followed her.

  "You'll do fine," Perk said. "It's really easy. After all, Mister Turner managed to run the thing, and if I ever saw a man more incompetent for the job than that fellow I can't remember who he is."

  Aaron snorted and studied his friend. "Thanks."

  Changing worlds had been good for Perk, he decided. Though she had always been fit and trim, she now appeared even more so, and a new air of competence surrounded her. She seemed to have a newfound faith in her abilities. Now that she was the teacher instead of the student, she was discovering just how much she had to give.

  Of course, Aaron contemplated, being fabulously rich probably helped her attitude quite a bit too. With all the silver bars she had brought over she never had to worry about paying the rent.

  Knight needed playful encouragement from her foot before he went back into the store. Once he was inside Perk stepped over Kit's outstretched feet, maneuvered past Aaron, and sat in the chair on the other side of him.

  "I swear
, that boy is more trouble than he is worth. Always dogging my heels and all the time sniffing, sniffing, sniffing. He wants a quick lay so bad it's embarrassing."

  Laughing gently, Kit leaned forward so she could see past Aaron. Her finger pointed at Perk.

  "Miss Perkins, you are one clueless person. Mister Knight is interested in something more permanent than a quick roll. From the conversations I have overheard, Mister Knight is very interested."

  Perk groaned dramatically. "Gawds, just what I need, a tail wagging puppy chasing after my heels."

  "It isn't your heels he is chasing after," Kit grinned.

  Perk mock glared at the two of them. "He better be after more than my heels. If he is panting, he better be panting after the right thing."

  Aaron tried not to laugh. It hurt to laugh.

  "Maybe after he gets the store rolling along he'll attract enough attention from the ladies that he will leave you alone," he said.

  Now Perk did glare. "He better not attract more attention. A man wants to chase after me, he better not pay much mind to anyone else. I won't have none of this one man three million women stuff. No sir. Any lover I have better stay loyal to just one person and that person is me." She looked pensive for a moment as her eyes saw something invisible on the distant horizon. "I tried it the other way a few times. I won't try it again."

  Her expression softened and then firmed into something else. "Now that you have sold most everything you own, what are you going to do with yourself?"

  Kit sat up straight. "Sold everything?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Perk said. "The going rate appears to be four gold. You should have seen Missy when she found out she owned the inn. I helped Aaron stagger over to the bank yesterday so he could make the legal changes. By the way, congratulations on owning the Manor. You owe me four gold 'cause I paid Aaron for you. He also dropped four pounds of silver into your account. Kit, you are a well off woman in your own name now."