In Evil Times

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Well, that’s it then.” He stood and gripped Gurion’s shoulder. “Don’t let them hurt my dad, okay?”

  “I won’t.” The old lawyer turned to Clancy. “Okay, when we go into chambers we’re going to throw as much dust in the air as possible. Use the Alien Act of 2314, also the Treaty of Ingolf.”

  “Okay, but it’s probably not going to work,” Clancy said.

  “I know that, I’m just trying to buy us some time in the hope of a miracle.”

  The lawyers headed for the door. Clancy paused and looked back. “You really didn’t do it, did you?”

  “No.” Tracy watched belief die and cynicism be born.

  The opening door revealed a guard. Tracy sank back into the chair. “I’m sorry,” the alien repeated. “I was just a conduit for money. I couldn’t use any of it.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Donnel drew himself up to attention, a ludicrous sight. “It has been an honor to serve you.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, Donnel, but you’ve done right by me. Mostly. Hope your next officer has better luck, and… and treats you better.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to have been an admiral’s batBEM,” the Cara’ot said with a return to his usual insouciance. “Could have lorded it over all the other batBEMs.” He headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Tracy called.

  “I’m gonna try to dial up the miracle the old man wants.”

  “They aren’t going to let you leave.”

  “How can they stop me? I’m not under arrest. Yet.”

  He pulled open the door. The fusilero glared at him. “Get back in there.”

  “I gotta go to the john.”

  “Hold it.”

  “I got a right to leave,” Donnel said.

  Tracy wondered what the Cara’ot had in mind. The creature had proved to be cunning and resourceful. He decided he may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. He joined Donnel at the door.

  “Let him go. That’s an order.”

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to issue orders… sir.”

  The man had his hip cocked, stance casual and relaxed. His hand rested on the butt of his rifle nowhere near the trigger. Mentally Tracy thanked him for being a fool. He then sucker punched the guard in the gut. When the man doubled over Tracy brought his knee up into his chin.

  Donnel hadn’t waited. The moment the first punch had been thrown he was galloping away on the ceiling of the corridor. Tracy dragged the fusilero into the room, propped him in a chair, leaned the rifle against the wall well away from him and sat down to wait.

  * * *

  The call had come through on Tracy’s ScoopRing. Mercedes had stared at the identification with the air of a rabbit faced with a snake. Tracy was incarcerated. His ring would have been taken. The signal stopped and a tap indicated she had a message. A few seconds later another call from Tracy’s ring. Then another and another. Mercedes finally keyed her ring and listened to the message.

  “Hey, Princess, this is Donnel. Remember the trousers?”

  Memory flooded back; standing in Tracy’s quarters at the High Ground with his hand on her thigh as he altered the absurd long skirts they had been forced to wear into practical trousers. His strange Cara’ot batBEM staggering through the door carrying a portable sewing machine. She shook away the past.

  Donnel’s voice continued. “We need to meet. Figure it out and call me back.”

  The creature’s tone and peremptory command put her back up, but the threat was implicit. She called back.

  “What do you want? And how do you have Tracy’s ring?”

  “He gave it to me just before they arrested him, and I’ll tell you what I want when I see you.”

  She paced to her office window and gazed out at the garden. Three children went darting across the grass heading for the boxwood maze. They were servants’ children since none of her sisters or their broods were currently in residence at the palace.

  “I can’t bring you to the palace,” she finally said.

  “Then get your royal ass to someplace where we can meet.”

  “How dare you take this tone!”

  “Yeah, well you haven’t exactly earned my respect with the crap you’ve pulled.”

  “I’m doing what I had to. And what if I say no?”

  “Here’s an incentive to say yes, Princess. What makes you think I don’t have a record of all those clandestine meetings between you and Belmanor? If I were to pass those on to say your cousin or maybe whisper it to Father Jose… I bet he’s not all that scrupulous about keeping the seal of the confessional when the family fortunes are at stake.”

  Her chest tightened. “All right, but it has to be someplace where I won’t be recognized.”

  “There’s an alien bar between MonkeyTown and Stick Town. Got everything a BEM might want – water, light, coffee, sezlac. Pretty much just aliens there.”

  “Which means I’ll stand out like a sore thumb,” Mercedes snapped.

  “Not if you’re there to meet with an unsavory and unscrupulous character who’s going to do a little job for you. Something about a philandering husband, I think.”

  A prickle ran down the back of her neck, ghost claws cold and frightening. Shrewd guess or did the alien actually know about Boho’s parade of lovers?

  The Cara’ot went on. “Of course you’ll be veiled for such an assignation. Take a table and I’ll join you.”

  “All right. When?”

  “Now. Or as close to now as you can make it.”

  She glanced around the office. At the calendar that seemed to glare at her with its long list of appointments. “I have responsibilities. I can’t just leave. I can clear my schedule for part of tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s going to be too late.” He softened his tone. “Look, Highness, if you care for him at all do this.”

  A vise closed on her heart. “Okay. Fine. You better be there.”

  “I will be.”

  She ended the call and buzzed her assistant. Jaakon was a sleek young man of twenty-five from a well-to-do caballero family. “I’m… I’m not feeling well. Cancel the rest of my appointments and reschedule.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Do you need the palace physician?”

  “No. It’s not that serious. I just don’t think I can concentrate.” She touched her fingertips to her forehead. “Headache. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She hurried to her quarters and dug out the veil she’d worn all those long years ago when she’d gone to a whorehouse for advice on how to avoid getting pregnant. Now she wished she could go there and learn how to conceive.

  29

  A DUTIFUL SON

  It was a part of town she’d never visited. Not surprising this was the domain of aliens. The only humans she saw on the street were four very drunk and very loud young men who ogled and laughed at everything.

  “What do you want to bet that they’ll end up in one of the alien brothels feeling very wicked for flouting the sexual congress laws?” Mercedes said to her driver.

  Commander Caballero Davin Pulkkinen, wearing civilian dress rather than his uniform, glanced over his shoulder and gave her his crooked grin. “And I’ll raise that bet that they won’t be able to perform once they are faced with a Hajin or Isanjo hooker, but will lie their asses off to their less adventurous comrades about their awesome sexual prowess.”

  They shared a laugh, and Mercedes was glad he was with her. Coming alone was never an option. SEGU, SPI and Captain Rogers would have lost their minds if she had tried. She proposed Davin and they had finally agreed. Rogers and her guards would form a perimeter around the neighborhood in case there was an attempt to kidnap her, and she would go armed. She also lied and told them this had to do with high level but unofficial negotiations with the Cara’ot. It wasn’t strictly true, but Donnel was a Cara’ot.

  She considered taking Rogers, but preferred to have someone who had been a classmate of Tracy’s, been his friend and knew Donnel.
That might help reduce the tension. She was also sure that with Davin she could be certain that the press or other members of the FFH would not get wind of her little jaunt to a seedy alien bar.

  The electric impulses in Davin’s artificial hand flickered blue through its milky plastic casing. Mercedes wondered why he had never had the arm and hand coated with a skin substitute. Did he want to remember the events of that chaotic day when they had saved the cosmódromo from supposed terrorists? It had been a horrible and exhilarating day. She had proved her prowess as a pilot and Tracy his brilliance as a tactician. At the cost of a boy’s life, she reminded herself, and Davin’s arm. Mercedes had been surprised when Davin chose to complete his five-year commitment, but the class clown had proved to have the soul of a patriot. After his first tour had ended he had re-upped and then re-upped again. Word from the high command was that despite his injury he was clever, hardworking and well liked by his subordinates and superiors alike. The prediction was that he would continue to rise through the ranks.

  The flitter slowed and dropped to the ground in front of a very seedy and rundown building. LED lights in the front windows offered a choice of beers and pool.

  Davin looked back at her as she arranged her veil. “So what’s my play? Dutiful, bored servant? Concerned and devoted servant? Lovesick servant?”

  “I don’t think it really matters since we’re just meeting Donnel.”

  “There are going to be other critters in the bar. We have to sell it to them too.”

  “Oh, all right. You’ll never sell lovesick. You’re smirking right now. I’d try for perv with a taste for alien flesh.”

  He clutched at his heart. “Mercedes, you wound me!”

  “If only.”

  They shared another smile and she flipped the material over her face. As her skin brushed across the lace she remembered Tracy’s father, the conversation with Tracy where she’d almost said something indiscreet. There were too many connections. Davin opened the door, bowed and offered his hand to assist her out of the flitter. The building was stained tan stucco with a terracotta tile roof. Several tiles were missing. A veranda ran across the front of the building, a holdover from a time when this was the outskirts of the city and this porch might have offered a view across the chaparral. Now it looked at a payday loan operation and a tattoo parlor.

  It was dim inside, the only light provided by more LED signs touting Two Crowns beer and several kinds of tequila. Shadows lurked in the corners and offered secrecy for the tables and their patrons. There were ropes strewn across the ceiling for the comfort of Isanjo patrons. A couple of rough-clad construction workers lounged among them. Three Flutes stood swaying in tubs of water while a red tinged light shone down on them. Whether their listing was due to inebriation or was part of their complex language Mercedes couldn’t be sure. Their breathy tweets and twerks clashed with the music. A drunk Hajin beat his palm on the bar, maybe to attract the attention of the Hajin bartender or trying to keep time with the music. In either case he was failing. Two more Hajin played pool. With every clack of the balls there would be either a curse or a shout of laughter.

  Davin leaned in and whispered in her ear, “This is great. I feel like I’m in a Dirk Steel novel,” referencing a popular stream series about a hard-edge private detective.

  Mercedes didn’t share his enjoyment because she realized that she hadn’t heard a single word in any human language since they’d entered. This was a realm where humans didn’t matter. Nervous now, she scanned the room. There was no sign of Donnel. She approached the bar.

  The blandness of the bartender’s gaze was as telling as open disdain. “I’m… I’m here to meet someone.” She allowed her voice to quaver a bit. The Hajin kept washing glasses. “He’s going to do… something for me?” She turned it into a hesitant question.

  “Through the door by the johns,” the Hajin grunted.

  They went down a dark, narrow hallway. The sewer smell indicated old pipes or maybe even a septic tank. It was possible this old building had never been hooked up to city services. Staying in character, Davin knocked then opened the door and preceded Mercedes into the darkened room. Donnel was seated at a game table in the center of the room. She moved to him, Davin following in her wake. The alien didn’t stand at her approach and indeed all four eyes studied her with contempt.

  “Huh, back room poker game? Maybe I can buy in some night,” Davin said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Donnel said. Davin gave a delighted laugh at the alien’s dry tone.

  “Maybe you should wait by the bar,” Mercedes said to Davin.

  “What, Princess, you don’t want him to hear how you fucked over Belmanor?” Donnel said.

  “So that’s what this is about,” Davin said.

  “Yes, and since I think Donnel is about to blackmail me I’d prefer you not be present for that,” Mercedes replied.

  “Okay. Guess I’ll go find out if they serve my kind in here.” Davin shut the door behind him as he left.

  “He’s charming enough, he’ll probably win them over,” the Cara’ot grunted. Mercedes pulled out a chair, sat down and threw back her veil. “I’m a bit surprised you showed up. Or didn’t show up with the troops you’ve left at the edge of the neighborhood.”

  “You’re smart enough to know I left word that will be read if I’m not back by midnight. And you’re not stupid enough to kill me because you know hell would rain down upon your people,” Mercedes said. “So let’s get to it. What do you want?”

  “You know what I want. Don’t let them destroy Belmanor.”

  She traced a pattern in the felt on the top of the table. It raised a smell of old booze and human and alien tobacco. “He brought this on himself.”

  Donnel leaned forward, all four arms resting on the table. “Yeah, he’s a stiff-necked pain in the ass. He has a bad temper, resentment gnaws at him like bark beetles on a pine tree. He’s also honorable and he did a good thing saving those kids, and if you’re honest with yourself you know that.” The alien paused and took a pull on his beer. “He also fucking loves you and I think you love him too so for fuck sake help him.”

  Agitated she stood and paced. “I can’t. It’s too late. It’s gone too far. He had his chance—”

  “And of course he blew it because he’s a better person than you or me. He wouldn’t take your bribe.” He stood and joined her as she paced. His skittering movements on his three legs were disturbing. He grabbed her arm and she flinched. “You need to find a way to keep him out of Leavenworth.”

  “If I do he’ll talk and the peace we’ve built with your people could be shattered,” Mercedes argued.

  “Not if you threaten his dad. He’ll protect the old man,” the alien said. The blunt coldness reminded her of her father and probably herself as well.

  “And I’ll bet if I have you arrested or killed all of it goes public,” Mercedes said. She had an overwhelming desire to laugh.

  “You can bet your royal ass. And not just about Dragonfly. I’ve got all your little adventures documented.”

  She ripped free of his grip. “Did your people put you at the High Ground to spy on me?” The alien didn’t answer. “All right,” Mercedes finally said. “I can’t reinstate him. Not after all this, but I’ll see to it he’s just cashiered.”

  “That’ll do.” He held out one of his four hands with its six long fingers. “Your word on it?”

  “Not yet. You turn over to me everything you have about my dealings with Tracy.” With four eyes it was easy to see the mental wheels turning. Finally the creature nodded that absurdly round head.

  “Okay. Should have asked for more than just one human’s skinny ass,” Donnel grumbled as he handed over a data spike.

  Mercedes smiled. “Too late.” She walked the spike through her fingers. “I trust there are no other copies?”

  “My word on it, Highness.”

  Mercedes extended her hand. “Now you have my word on it.”

  They shook
. Mercedes replaced her veil and started for the door. His voice froze her. “You ever stop to wonder how this is going to play for my people? To us Tracy’s a big goddamn hero.”

  Whirling, Mercedes asked sharply, “Do you know something?”

  “Nah, I’m just a flunky, but I’m not a stupid flunky.”

  “The only people who know are your diplomats. We’ve managed to cow or sequester anyone who was there and might talk.”

  “Like you were going to sequester Tracy.”

  “We’re doing the best we can,” she pleaded. “Can you imagine what might happen if your people learned that some of my people massacred a bunch of children?”

  “Yeah, I see your point.”

  The door closed behind her and Mercedes walked to the bar to collect Davin. He had managed to score a drink and he was chatting with the bartender. She envied the man his breezy gift of the gab.

  “Ready, my lady?” Davin said, falling once more into his role as dutiful servant.

  “Yes.”

  “Everything handled?” Davin asked quietly as he held open the front door for her.

  After the dimness in the BEM bar the streetlights, even through her veil, felt too bright. Or perhaps it was just the headache that had begun to throb. She felt virtuous and relieved but also sad. She would probably never see Tracy again.

  “Yes, all settled,” she finally answered. “I do wonder how Tracy will react.”

  “What’s your guess?” Davin asked as he keyed open the door to the flitter.

  “I’d like to hope for grateful and relieved, but I’m betting he’ll be bitter and resentful.”

  “That’s our boy. Well, you did your best. Now it’s up to him.”

  * * *

  They stood before the judge. Gurion on one side, Clancy on the other as if they feared Tracy would collapse. It irritated him, but he also wasn’t sure it wasn’t true. The panel was not in place and Tracy couldn’t decide if that was hopeful or ominous. As usual his father, Malcomb and on this day Father Ken were in the gallery. No Donnel today. After the threat to arrest him the alien had vanished. Tracy couldn’t blame him. The other spectators consisted of a few low-level reporters looking for a story about the one-time O-Trell hero, though Tracy had to assume that vein had been tapped.