Snowburn

by E J Frost

  When I don’t say anything, she continues.

  “You’re thinking Tyng recruited her. Turned

  her into what she is. That’s not how it

  happened. Erin’s always known exactly what

  she wanted to be.”

  “A killer?” That would surprise me. I’ve

  always known I was different, but I didn’t

  start out in that dumping-ground on Paggen

  thinking I was gonna kill people when I grew

  up. I just wanted to be a soldier, like half the

  other boys I knew.

  “No, rich. She’s always known she

  wanted to be rich. She didn’t care how she

  got there. Who she had to work for. Who she

  had to hurt. What mattered is that she’d never

  have to eat rats again.”

  Having eaten a decent amount of rat in my

  time, I can understand that. If she has a talent

  for killing people, I can’t fault her for

  exploiting her talent. You can’t always

  choose who you work for. I found that out the

  hard way with S.A.W.L. And you can’t

  always decide that it’s only the deserving

  who’re gonna die. I found that out the hard

  way in slam. I don’t think Kez and I will

  ever see eye-to-eye on this one. But it

  doesn’t matter. Like Tyng’s illness, it’s just

  another point of leverage. “Whether she

  deserves it or not, if she wants out, an’ we

  can help her . . . you see where this is

  goin’?”

  Kez sighs and slumps in her chair. “I see

  where it’s going. I don’t have to like it

  though, do I?”

  “No, you don’t have to like it.” She’ll do

  it though, because she’s a pragmatist. Like

  me. “An’ we don’t have to give it away. We

  get as much out of her as we can before I

  give her that key.”

  Kez nods.

  “So, you wanna go make nice with your

  sister, or you wanna land the ship?”

  Kez grins. “Is that a trick question?”

  I figured. I flick on the landing controls

  and turn them over to her. Looks like I get to

  continue running interference with Erin-the-

  Assassin.

  Chapter 19

  Kez needs more help on the landing than

  she did on the lift off, but landing is always

  trickier. The dock at Golden Sands is an

  aerial dock, a series of landing pads and

  platforms built thirty meters above the

  yellow dunes that give the settlement it’s

  name. The Marie is on the large side of the

  ships that can dock at Golden Sands, and we

  have to circle several times until a platform

  large enough for the Marie clears. As we

  begin to drop towards the platform, landing

  talons reach up and grab at the Marie’s gear.

  A raptor platform. They’re not the easiest

  landings. I help Kez as she settles the ship in.

  It’s a bumpy landing. Not really Kez’s fault.

  Raptor platforms suck. But I can see that it

  unsettles her. She wipes sweat off her upper

  lip as we unstrap our flight webbing.

  “You did just fine, kitten.”

  “Did I? That felt bad.”

  “Raptor platform. Even experienced

  pilots hate them.” I reach under my seat and

  pull out two bulbs of water. Stock’s getting

  low. Normally, I’d top up after the run, but

  there’s no point in restocking for the killer

  call-girl. In fact, I’ll need to strip some

  supplies out of the ship before I turn it over

  to her. She can have those fucking tortillas,

  though. “Toast to your first landing.”

  She tinks her bulb against mine and we

  wait for the dock to signal the ship, sipping

  in companionable silence. Finally, a triangle

  on the Marie’s flight console lights up. The

  panel above the credit reader says,

  “Welcome to Golden Sands. Docking fees

  are two hundred credits per day. No credit

  will be given for partial stays.”

  “Friendly,” I remark.

  Kez pulls out her backpack. “I’ve got

  this.” She opens an interior compartment in

  the backpack and fishes out a credit wand.

  Slides it into the triangular slot and holds her

  thumb against the IdentiPad at the top of the

  wand until it beeps. “How would you have

  paid?”

  “Whaddo you mean?” I ask.

  “I notice you don’t use soft credits for

  anything.”

  Observant kitten. “They’ll usually take

  hard credits if you talk to the right person.”

  “Not everywhere.”

  I shrug. “I’ve never met anyone I couldn’t

  persuade.” Or kill, when gentler methods

  didn’t work.

  She grins as she stows the credit wand

  back in her pack. “You are very persuasive.”

  I rise and stretch. Hold my hand out to

  her and help her out of her flight chair. She

  rolls her head until her neck pops. “Ooo, do

  you get sore?” she asks.

  “You were concentratin’ too hard. You

  won’t when you’ve had more practice.

  C’mere.” I turn her around and stroke the

  tension out of her neck with my thumbs. “You

  know what I used to do after a flyin’ lesson?

  To relieve the tension?”

  “Mmm, no idea.” She melts against me.

  Her head lolls. She lets her backpack drop to

  the floor and reaches around to rest her

  hands on my hips. “Whatever it was, you’re

  not allowed to stop what you’re doing.”

  I lean in so my mouth’s against her ear. “I

  used to wank off.” Over and over. Until I

  passed out. Worked great. I didn’t suffer any

  of the stress-related problems the other

  trainees suffered. I even looked forward to

  flight training.

  “Oh, okay, I take it back. We can do that

  instead.” She pulls at my hips so my groin

  bumps her soft ass. “I want to watch.”

  Naughty kitten. “Why would I jerk off

  when I’m with you? Fuckin’s a thousand

  times better than goin’ solo. ‘Sides, we just

  did that.” Not that I’d object to doing it

  again, but I’d rather the next time was in a

  bed, or zero-gee, or at least somewhere we

  can take our time.

  “Two whole hours ago.”

  I chuckle and nuzzle her dreadlocks.

  “We’re on the clock.”

  Kez sighs. “About that, I’ve been

  thinking.”

  Could be dangerous. “Yeah?”

  “Maybe this Shaker guy rents other stuff.

  You know, beside skimmers.”

  “What do we need beside a skimmer?”

  “A catapult.”

  The image of catapulting her evil minx of

  a sister over the channel into the Cloudlands

  tickles me. I laugh. A full belly laugh. “Bet

  she’d fall right outta that titty-sling.”

  Kez giggles. I tuck her into my chest and

  hold her tight until our shared laughter dies

  down.

  “Let’s go get the blue b
omber,” I tell her.

  Kez nods and when I release her, picks

  up her backpack and slings it over her

  shoulders with a smile.

  Erin’s waiting for us in the passenger

  lounge. She’s changed into something more

  functional: a tight black unisuit topped by a

  curvy, electric blue jacket. Assassin chic.

  Her three bags sit neatly stacked next to her

  cradle. She removes her amber spectacles

  and earpiece when we enter.

  “Tyng got anythin’ new to say?” I ask.

  “Not to me,” Erin responds, her voice all

  honey and viciousness. “We’ve been down

  for fifteen minutes.” She arches an eyebrow.

  “That an observation, or a criticism?”

  ‘Cause it sounded like the latter to me.

  “I could have walked faster at this rate.”

  Fashion Fatale does not get to criticize

  my timetable. “Not in those boots.” I nod at

  her footwear, which are shiny and black and

  svelte, but I bet two hours of walking in them

  would give her blisters the size of my fist. I

  scoop up her bags, shoulder two of them and

  pass the third to Kez so my hands are free.

  “C’mon then. Tick tock.”

  Erin gives me a narrow and unfriendly

  glare as she unfolds herself from the cradle

  in one smooth motion and stalks out of the

  lounge.

  As we follow, I mime Erin falling out of

  her bustier. Kez giggles. I grin. And we both

  give Erin innocent face when she glares at us

  over her shoulder.

  The dock is only a few minutes’ walk

  from the heart of Golden Sands, but the

  tourist-minded govvies have thoughtfully

  provided a moving walkway, so I relax

  against the handrail, put my arm around Kez

  and watch the sights roll by.

  Golden Sands is a coastal settlement, and

  like all the coastal settlements on Kuseros,

  it’s got a bad case of schizophrenia. Half

  tourist attraction, half industrial fishing port.

  It can’t seem to decide what it is, block by

  block, and in some places, building by

  building. There are entertainment arcades,

  breezy outdoor markets, and bright shops

  touting the usual tourist tat. They sit cheek to

  jowl with stinking fish-oil refineries and

  flash-freezing plants.

  As I’m appreciating the dichotomy, Kez

  points out a storefront tucked between a

  heavy-water supplier and a welder’s.

  “Rippers. They sell great flash.”

  “You like flash?” The fried, highly-

  spiced seaweed isn’t to everyone’s taste. It’s

  one of my favorite foods, though.

  “Love it.” She grins up at me. I cast a

  glance at her sister, who has her back to us

  as we ride the walkway. Since Erin’s not

  watching, I give Kez an open-mouthed kiss.

  That grin is such a turn-on.

  She responds enthusiastically, lapping at

  my tongue, pressing her soft breasts against

  my chest. The little monster forgets that it’s

  supposed to be satisfied and begins to

  rumble.

  When I pull back, Kez’s eyes are shining

  and her grin is wider, if possible. She licks

  my taste off her lower lip before she mouths,

  “More,” at me.

  “Bad kitten,” I growl. But I don’t put any

  heat into it. Playing with her is too much fun.

  “What else d’you know about this place?”

  She shrugs. “Fish is fresh. Best stuff gets

  shipped off-world, though. Stay out of the

  clubs after midnight. Mirrormen territory.

  They don’t like outsiders, and they don’t

  distinguish between the tourists and poor

  runners just trying to make a living.”

  I snort. “Poor runner, huh?”

  “Less than I used to be.” Her grin could

  light up worlds. “I have this Big D now.

  He’s so flush he keeps giving away space-

  ships.”

  I slide my hand down her back and pinch

  her ass. “Ship. I gave away one ship. My

  ship. An’ I figured you’d spot me the next

  one, since you’re makin’ more on these two

  runs than most runners make in a year.”

  She tosses her dreads. “I’m not most

  runners. I have a lifestyle to maintain.”

  “What, replacement neg cells and bunny

  kibble? I knew sixty-forty was too much.

  Time to renegotiate.”

  She leans her head back on my shoulder.

  “No way. I got you and I got most of the

  profits. I’m never renegotiating.” She turns

  and hugs me suddenly. Presses her face into

  my neck. “Never never never.”

  I slide my arms around her. Hold her

  tight. Meet Erin’s eyes over the top of Kez’s

  fuzzy head as Erin turns around to say

  something to us. Those ice blue eyes flick

  over our clinch. Erin’s expression shifts

  towards disdain, but doesn’t quite make it.

  There’s too much hurt in her eyes.

  “Your sister’s watching us,” I murmur to

  Kez.

  “I don’t care,” Kez responds, but she

  steps back. Leans against the handrail. Takes

  my hand and stands companionably close as

  we roll down the last few meters of the

  walkway. She rolls our joined hands to

  check her viewie, which displays a miniature

  version of Gig’s map. “Shaker’s place is

  right on the front. Through the main arcade.”

  “Due east.” I nod towards the blue haze

  that peeps through the gaps in the wall of

  buildings ahead of us.

  The moving walkway deposits us in the

  center of the main arcade. Under an ornate

  glaz and enamel arch patterned with

  seashells and leaping fish. Real thoughtful of

  those tourist-minded govvies. Land the

  tourists right in the center of the credit-trap.

  The plaza is crowded with shoppers.

  Mostly women dragging kids and ‘bots piled

  high with brightly-colored tat. Kez takes

  point and moves through the crowd easily,

  sliding into the shifting gaps between groups

  of people with the ease of a native of the

  urban jungle. I follow her, not too close. And

  as she slides in and out and around the

  crowd, I begin to see how she could have

  followed me for three months without me

  spotting her. She’s a natural; despite her

  distinctive looks, she fits right in. So neatly

  she disappears into the crowd. Without my

  modified senses and S.A.W.L. training, I

  wouldn’t be able to follow her. Where she

  blends, the crowd shifts to make way for me.

  Without a uniform or any visible weapons,

  I’m not as scary as I used to be. But

  whatever face or name I’m wearing, I’m still

  a big man, moving purposefully, and people

  get out of my way. Erin quickly realizes the

  advantages of being in my wake. She drops a

  few steps behind me, and when I glance back

  to mak
e sure she’s still there too many times

  for her taste, she hooks two fingers through

  the strap of the bag over my shoulder so I can

  lead her.

  I don’t like the pressure on the strap.

  Feels like I’m on a leash. Those first days at

  K-G all over again. I shrug her off, reach

  back and take her left hand with mine, so she

  can follow directly behind me and I’ve got

  my right hand free for a shiv.

  Over the burble of the crowd, I hear her

  chuckle. “I like holding hands with you,

  Manny.”

  She’s lying. I can feel her hand twitching

  in mine. The crowd will have her on edge.

  Hunting through a crowd is one thing; trying

  to move inconspicuously through one is

  another. It’s hell for a predator. Worse than

  being out in the open. Too many distractions.

  “How often d’you leave Zhonnys?” I ask.

  “Why?”

  ‘Cause she seems agoraphobic. I shrug.

  “I’ve been on vacation,” she says finally.

  “I’ve earned it.”

  Whether she’s earned it or not, she’s

  been out of action for a while. Tyng called

  her out of retirement for this job. Maybe so

  she could prove her loyalty again. Maybe to

  fuck with Kez’s head. Maybe to punish Erin.

  She’s Ape’s sister, too, after all.

  “One last job, huh?” I say. “Trouble is,

  it’s that last job that gets you. Maybe you

  need it too much. Maybe your reactions have

  gotten slow. Whatever it is, it’s that one last

  job that you don’t come back from.”

  She digs her fingernails into my hand.

  “What are you saying?”

  She knows. She just doesn’t want to

  admit it. “I’m sayin’ you should walk away.

  Take my ship and get as far away from

  Kuseros as you can.”

  “He’ll never let me go,” she says, so

  softly I just make out the edges of her words

  over the noise of the crowd.

  “Get some perspective, sister. He’s a big

  fish in a small pond. Two systems from here,

  no one’s even heard of him.”

  She’s silent as I lead her out of the plaza.

  When we escape the crowd, I release her

  hand. She stays a step behind me. I glance

  over my shoulder and take in her expression.

  She doesn’t meet my eyes. Her face is

  closed, pensive.

  Maybe I’ve given her something to think

  about.

  Kez stops a few yards ahead of us, not far

  from a knot of adolescents in baggy beach

  wear. Several carry float-boards and all are

  heavily holo-tattooed. Kez gives a high,