by Candace Sams
The small puppy was her only family now. She was thankful she’d found the wandering animal before the cruel pirates did. It didn’t take much imagination to understand what they’d do to a helpless creature, just for sport. She’d already seen what they’d done to every human or other sentient being in the marketplace and surrounding homesteads. All the horror was inflicted to make sure the citizens knew the pirates were in control. Her burned, scarred flesh was another of many reminders. As the weeks grew closer to wintertime, if she had enough food and clothing stored, she wouldn’t have to come into town at all. She could stay in her little cave with Una, live out the coldest months in warmth, and pray that help would come.
But what form would such help take? What did the Constellation League care about some small planet’s plight?
Before some of her friends were killed in the market that fateful day the pirates made an example of them, she’d heard a message had been smuggled out. But no one had come. The Constellation League enforcers to whom the message was supposedly sent cared as little for their poor planet’s problems as did the ruler of Luster. As head of the entire League enforcer cadre, it was Dar Starlaw’s responsibility to see that all remained safe. And the man hadn’t done his job. And for that, she hated him. But she still hoped someone would help—anyone who might even take her small collection of coins for a ticket on a shuttle, to any place in the known universe. As far as she was concerned, any hole would be better than Delta Seven and the small town of Prosperity. Everything here she’d once loved was dead. All but her little Una.
• • •
Marcos watched as the diminutive figure crept about. Whoever the person was, he was covered from head to toe in a dark cloak and hood. It was the typical mantle of outer-world colonists, but a fashion that even those ornately dressed on Luster sometimes wore. The mode of dress was not unlike the brown cloak Marcos had brought with him. But the garment type was the only similarity shared by him and this nightly creeper. Even from his vantage point on the second floor, he could tell his frame dwarfed the party he watched. Whoever it was, he was good. Very good. The operative moved swiftly and gracefully. Marcos well believed the party might be a master thief. Perhaps it was someone working for the pirates, perhaps not. But if the thief’s alliances were with criminals, why creep about in such a decimated area and after an established curfew?
He watched as the small figure stopped in front of one of the merchant shops, looked up and down the darkened streets, and lifted a stone slab on the walkway by the front entrance. His attention was captured by the effortless way the culprit slid beneath the stone and pulled it back into position from underneath.
There were probably tunnels dug beneath the buildings as there were on many mining planets. Old-fashioned steam tunnels often concealed pipes that fed directly into the buildings and provided heat and/or water conduits. Someone with a working knowledge of such channels could easily access them, and find their way into any building. Marcos remembered finding refugees hiding in such places during the war years. They had often sheltered there as a last sanctuary from the fighting, and in violation of local law. Gaining access to them was forbidden in most places because of their use in looting.
Intrigued by the act being played out before him, he watched for the return of the little thief. About a half hour later, the thin stone was pushed aside, and a bag was tossed onto the walkway. The thief easily emerged, pushed the stone back in place, and quickly stopped to throw a handful of street dust back over the area. Presumably, this was done so no one could tell the walkway had been disturbed. He slowly smiled and nodded.
Very good indeed.
Movement from down the street caught his attention. Constables were on patrol. Even from a distance, he recognized their uniform badges and side arms in the moonlight.
He glanced at the small figure struggling to tie up a sack. Apparently, the little thief hadn’t expected them. It could be they were only present because of him.
Marcos watched the cloaked figure move away, but it wouldn’t be soon enough for the constables not to notice.
Why did he care? A thief was a thief, and he’d incarcerated enough in his time to understand any other constable’s enforcement of very similar laws. Still, something with the situation wasn’t right. If a person wanted to steal, why do it from a burned-out mercantile likely not to hold anything of real value? Nothing but food, water, or perhaps some medicine.
Glancing between the two approaching constables and the small form, logic warred with compassion. The latter won.
He moved closer to his open window, put his hands on the edge, and slammed it hard. The sound echoed to the street below and the thief looked up. Marcos saw the cloaked figure’s attention move not only up to where he stood, but quickly down the street where the constables now moved faster. The sound had alerted them as well. His act was all he could think of doing on the spur of the moment, without risking his mission.
As if by magic, the thief backed quickly into the shadows and became one with the dark columns and window ledges of the buildings. Marcos saw the constables trot up to the front of the inn. They quickly glanced around and finally pulled search beams from their uniform belts. In doing so, they made themselves obvious to anyone who cared to look out the window. They no longer cared if anybody knew they were present. He held his breath as their lights were directed to the areas on either side of the street.
One of the constables drew his laser and aimed it straight at the wall where Marcos had last seen the small figure. But there was nothing there.
Marcos let out a sigh of relief and watched as the guards searched a few minutes longer, then finally made their way back the way they’d come. It suddenly dawned on him that the thief had to be a woman or a young girl. In the moonlight, the bandit’s shoulders were narrower than a man’s. But it was really his experience with the female anatomy that gave rise to his conviction.
The grace with which the gloved hands had grabbed at the sack, and the slight swaying motion of the body as she moved, left him in little doubt. And he was that much happier for his decision to slam the window. He didn’t want to think about what might happen to the little thief if corrupt constables caught her. He was sure the men who’d confronted him earlier weren’t the kind of enforcers to honor a female prisoner’s rights. They were surly-looking sorts better suited to criminal activity themselves. The way they’d questioned him right after finding out he’d arrived was, in and of itself, suspicious.
He smiled, turned away from the window, and decided to get some sleep.
• • •
Nova huddled near the small fire in her cave and held Una close. “I don’t know why someone would help me,” she whispered to the white, round ball of fuzz in her arms. “Whoever it was could just have easily called out to the constables and picked up a nice reward. And what were the local enforcers doing there in the first place? They’re never walking the street in front of the inn these days. It makes no sense.”
Una sighed in contentment and stuck her cold black nose against her mistress’s cheek.
“I’ll have to be much more careful. But I bet if I go to the marketplace tomorrow, I’ll find out if there’s anyone new in the area. Someone who obviously doesn’t know about the bounty on thieves’s heads. What do you think?”
Una yawned, gazed adoringly up, and cuddled closer.
“That’s what I’ll do, then. I’ll go to the marketplace tomorrow.”
No one would recognize her or care about her presence if they did. She was one of hundreds of victims who all looked the same now. That was one of two sad advantages to have come from the fire plasma. Not many people were recognizable if they survived exposure. And she’d feign her usual slow limp so no one would ever think her capable of thievery. The one other good thing the burning substance had done was render her so hideous that even the pirates who lurked near the market wouldn’t touch her. There were now too many willing and unscarred prostitutes present.
As beautiful as the prostitutes were, they were no more than slaves. They’d been originally brought in to service Forrell’s butchers, but were now unable to leave Delta Seven except by permission. And that would never come. She knew it even if the whores didn’t. In fact, no one who came was ever allowed to leave unless there was a suspicion their presence would be missed elsewhere. And until each visitor’s purpose could be determined, the governor kept travelers isolated. These days, the only new people to arrive were those down on their luck seeking a few low-grade gems, or those looking to barter for supplies. The real booty that might have drawn fortune and given every citizen on Delta Seven a chance at prosperity was in the hands of the pirates and Forrell. No one would ever know what they’d done. No one cared. Least of all the king of Luster and his elite enforcers from the Constellation League. Unlike the lesser trained, underpaid, and easily bribed local enforcers, they were supposed to have been Delta Seven’s next line of protection in the event anything ever went wrong. Where were they now?
She wondered, as she had for the thousandth time, whether the king himself wasn’t in on the lucrative secret Forrell and his henchmen hid on the little, backwater mining colony.
She also wondered if she’d ever see her real face under all the scar tissue. If she’d ever get to a planet where a medical incubation unit wouldn’t be ransomed for only those who could pay the exorbitant prices the pirates and Adaman Forrell demanded.
“I hate this place!” she bitterly spat out. “And we’ll leave it one day, Una. You’ll see. But we can’t depend upon anyone but ourselves. Even that person I saw in the window could be an enemy. We can’t trust anyone.”
• • •
After eating a hasty breakfast, Marcos decided to head to the center of town and visit the merchant district.
Attempts at friendly conversation with the inn’s staff had been met with dour nods or curt answers. People who were living under normal circumstances didn’t behave in such a way. Not if they expected repeat business or a good recommendation. In fact, the innkeeper and his staff acted as though they didn’t care if he was present or not. That and the lack of citizenry on the street the afternoon before added to his growing sense of trepidation.
Remembering the careful research he’d done on where gem sales were held, Marcos donned the brown cape and cloak that seemed part of a merchant’s garb everywhere, and made his way to the center of the market. There were more people out there, but they hurried and avoided making eye contact. He presumed they were busy getting their business and errands done before the night’s curfew. But he couldn’t help smiling when he remembered one little denizen that had obviously found a way to defeat that ban and the brawny looking constables who might have captured her.
Turning a corner and heading west, he found the larger, gray stone building that should house the gem sellers. His research consisted of out-of-date records, but what knowledge he had from Lusterian records of this small planet still held true. At least so far.
Again, he was struck by the difference between the browns and grays of this dismal planet and the colors, smells, and beauty of Luster. As he approached the building he sought, men and women stood in small groups and haggled over goods and raw, uncut gems. He walked into a foyer where an officious looking little man was busy weighing stones and recording their specifics.
“I’d like to put my name on the buyer’s list. Are you the man to speak to?”
The official looked up and stared a moment before speaking. “You’re the one who came on the shuttle yesterday.”
“I see good news travels fast,” Marcos quipped. When the man stared longer than was considered polite, Marcos continued. “I’m Marcos Orlandis. I’d like to barter with some gem dealers if that’s acceptable.”
“Y-yes, of course. I’ll let you into the dealer’s room, but you’ll have to step through our security gate. Procedure, you understand.”
“Of course.” Marcos waited for the man to lock up the stones he had been weighing before servicing him. The security gates were no problem. He’d already been through several, and that was the unfortunate reason he couldn’t hide even an older weapon on his body or his small pack of clothing. Advancements in technology, even in this part of the galaxy, were such that he couldn’t conceal even the smallest compression grenade or laser firearm. He’d had to go through a security checkpoint to get on the last shuttle to Delta Seven, and still another one when he got off it. Such stringent tests were to make sure no weapon got smuggled for or by anyone intending to do harm. Or anyone seeking to stop harm already caused.
While the intense searching wouldn’t have caused notice in traveling to a major planet, he wondered what there was on this depressing little hole in the cosmos that encouraged chances of arrest. If thievery was the reason for the advanced security, then what was being protected? From what he’d seen, there simply wasn’t anything on Delta Seven other than ordinary necessities. The storefronts barely displayed any valuable merchandise. Other than gems, there seemed to be nothing to commend this planet to anyone. Even the stones he’d seen were of low grade.
He followed the thin, little man to the security gate, walked through, and waited for the arched doors on the other side to open. As usual, the security system couldn’t detect the micro transmitter embedded in his right breast. The transmitter would do him little good unless an enforcer vessel was in very close orbit around the planet, but Darius and Father had insisted that he have it implanted.
He walked into the gem seller’s area and found only one salesperson huddled over a table. To that man’s right, however, Marcos recognized the tall, balding pate of Delta Seven’s governor. All the images of the man were superior to what was presented in real life. Adaman Forrell looked like an individual who wasn’t happy. His face was pinched, and sweat poured from his brow despite the cool air of an early Delta Seven autumn. The man’s color was both pale and red; he seemed to have difficulty breathing.
For some reason, Marcos knew his presence had been expected. Having the governor at a common market sale was so obviously wrong that his instincts went into overdrive. He slowly walked forward, trying to maintain control over his situation.
Adaman Forrell held out his hand. “Welcome, Marcos Orlandis. We’ve been expecting you.”
Warily, Marcos took the extended hand the governor held out and shook it. His persona would not know this man. “And you are?” he nonchalantly asked.
“Pardon my lack of manners. I’m Governor Forrell. I’m in charge of administering affairs on our humble little planet. Please, do take a seat.” He motioned to a chair in front of the gem seller’s table.
“I’m honored, sir. I didn’t expect to meet with the esteemed governor of the planet. How is it you know my name?” Marcos glanced at the gem salesman and noted how the man kept his eyes on the stones he displayed.
“Ah, we have so few visitors here. Unfortunately, our merchandise isn’t the best to be had. When any gem merchants arrive, news travels quickly. Gossip on small colonies is the fastest form of communication in the entire universe, you know.” Adaman smiled and poured wine from a nearby decanter.
Marcos took a glass when it was offered. But he’d only drink when he was sure the governor did. “I’m a lowly merchant, sir. I’m sure you must have more important duties than to oversee my poor dealings.”
“Actually, this is the highlight of the month for me, Mr. Orlandis. While I do get news from the rest of the planets in this sector, it’s often old. I was wondering if I might watch your transaction and query about recent news. Why, it’s such an occasion when anyone visits here.”
The ingratiating tone of voice and false smile did nothing to calm Marcos’s anxiety. Likely, the governor had been waiting for him to make an appearance all morning. “I’m at your disposal, sir. Ask what you will while I survey this good merchant’s offerings. While I’m a man of very moderate means, I’d like to get the best stones I can. Gems from outlying planets are impossibly expensi
ve. For someone of my lowly income, that is.”
Adaman bowed his head politely. “Of course, Mr. Orlandis, I totally understand your situation. We on Delta Seven are the last to gain attention of businessmen of any kind. We want to make the best possible impression so that you leave here satisfied and can relay our fair dealings to others who seek our reasonable prices. If only we could afford to offer the casual visitor more to see and do. But without business, that isn’t possible.”
“A vicious circle to be sure. One can’t offer more unless there’s more income.”
“You have a perfect understanding of our predicament,” Forrell said. “Now … please survey our best merchant’s stones, and forgive me if I pick your brain for news while you do so.”
Marcos pulled out a gem viewer from his pocket, leaned forward, and looked over the merchant’s jewels. The seller still remained silent, obviously preferring to let the governor do all the talking.
“I see you have one of the newer electronic gem magnifiers. Our merchant will give you a very reasonable price even with the small but acceptable flaws you’ll undoubtedly find. We here on Delta Seven pride ourselves on our honesty. Let no man say otherwise,” Forrell congenially insisted.
Marcos looked over the stones. After having researched the subject extensively, the gems he viewed were not even of fair quality. Even the semi-precious stones weren’t what he knew to be acceptable. But his research led him to know the worth of what he saw. He looked them over again and made his best offer. “I can give you five hundred credits for the lot. No more.” Again the merchant kept silent.
Adaman put out his hands in a supplicating gesture. “Please, Mr. Orlandis. Do look again. Surely you can offer seven?”
“That’s all I can afford, Governor Forrell. And that’s certainly all these stones are worth. They’re costume quality, but nothing better.”
“Surely the rubies are a bit better than average?”
