Outpost

by W. Michael Gear

  Three creatures, each about the size of an almond, clustered together. Rounded shells, like hulls, shimmered in metallic greenish-blue. The effect was dazzling, reminding him of peacock feathers in sunlight. The music—like nothing he’d ever heard—enchanted him, brought a smile to his lips.

  Bending down to stare, Dan realized it was the shells, vibrating so fast they shimmered laserlike in the light, that made the warbling harmonic.

  “They’re like bugs,” he whispered, awed by the rising and falling music the little creatures made. “Fucking bugs. Who’d have thought?”

  He straightened, glanced around at the big, empty warehouse. Yes, this was the place. Too damned good a place for bugs. No matter how pretty they sang.

  He started for the door. Hesitated, then returned just long enough to mash each of the little bug-shaped creatures under his shoe. The shells crunching audibly beneath his sole felt rewarding.

  27

  Rising on a shower of crackling yellow sparks, the rocket soared into the night sky accompanied by oohing ahs from the crowd. At the height of its ascent, the rocket exploded in a lacery of yellow, red, and blue across the black night sky. The hollow boom followed a half second later.

  People applauded.

  Talina grinned, glancing out past the buildings to the perimeter fence and beyond. Wonder what the quetzals think of all this?

  In answer something uncomfortable stirred inside her—as if irritated and amused at the same time. The beast Raya insisted didn’t exist.

  For that matter, she wondered what Supervisor Aguila and her shippies from Turalon thought. No doubt this night’s reverie was like nothing they’d experienced this side of a historical VR-holo.

  The soft meat, on the other hand, stood rapt in the amber light cast by the celebratory bonfires. Flames crackled and rose in reddish-orange tongues from the aquajade and chabacho logs. The stuff didn’t exactly burn like terrestrial wood, but was close enough to serve the purpose. And around them, the Skulls openly gaped, pointing, sucking in great breaths of amazement.

  Talina stood with feet braced, her right hand on her pistol butt. Screams of delight and whistles accompanied each of Cheng’s rockets as they shot into the night sky. Flasks, bottles, and jugs were being passed from hand to hand. Laughter filled the night.

  “Live it for all it’s worth, buckos!” Talina shouted, raising her left fist high and shaking it. Because the day after Turalon spaced, the reality would begin to sink in.

  “So those are fireworks?” a voice announced as a man emerged from the night.

  She gave Cap Taggart a sidelong appraisal. “The very thing.”

  Another rocket rode a fountain of sparks and fire as it sailed high over Port Authority. It burst in green and blue streaks, then the report followed in a loud clap.

  “Impressive,” Cap admitted. “Never thought I’d see such a thing.”

  “Stick around, Skull. We’ll show you some real amazements.”

  “Can we get past this ‘Skull’ thing, Security Officer Perez? I get it that there’s a lot I don’t know about Donovan. But I’m willing to bet you never led a company of marines in a firefight either.”

  “I’ll consider it, Captain.”

  She was acutely aware as he took a position beside her, muscular arms crossed on his chest. Head up, he watched the dark wreath of smoke drift eastward across the brilliant frosting of stars.

  He said, “All this just for the signing? The Supervisor merely scribbled a signature on a piece of paper.”

  “Uh huh, and everyone who could get to a monitor watched her do it.” She sidestepped as a group of little boys burst out of the darkness and charged through the forest of adult legs. “You’ve got to understand. With that stroke of the pen, these people own their own lives now. It’s freedom. The future. All they’ve got is title to a bit of ground, a dome, and the two feet they stand on. Anything else is what they make it.”

  He scratched the side of his jaw. “But, Talina, there’s no certainty. Anything could go wrong. Who’s there to save them if it does?”

  She winced. His use of her name was oddly inappropriate. A sort of invasion. “They’ll save themselves.” She paused before hostilely adding, “Max.”

  He stiffened, seemed to swell, then let it go with a laugh. “Okay, I deserved that.”

  “Yeah, you did. And just after I’d decided to refrain from calling you Skull.”

  She watched the last rocket shoot into the sky, a big thing that whistled as it thundered up and up. It burst in a flowering of white light. Seconds later the detonation hit her like slap. Additional stars of color burst out of the trailing sparks like colorful sparkles. The subsequent crackle carried down as the displays danced in the blackness.

  “Wow,” Taggart whispered.

  For a moment the crowd was silent, then burst out in applause and whoops of joy. As if on cue, Inga’s band began to play where they’d been placed on an elevated stage. As spectators clapped in time to the music, others grabbed arms, dancing to the tune, feet flying, arms extended, and bodies whirling.

  “Unfuckingbelievable,” Taggart said softly.

  “Yeah. God help us poor lost souls, huh?”

  He turned, expression almost puzzled in the glow of the firelight. “Could I buy you a drink? Just sit and talk to you like one human being to another?”

  “What in fuck for?”

  He shrugged his confusion and finally said, “Maybe it’s because we’ll ship out, and I’ll never see this place again. Maybe I just want a chance to know what makes you so . . . damned capable.”

  “Why, thank you.” A beat. “I think.”

  “I’ve been hung out a couple of times. Knew that I was going to die. Been in some pretty deep shit. You’ve got something that makes you different, that’s all.”

  “Yeah,” she told him pointedly. “I’ve got a quetzal inside me.”

  He didn’t scoff, but honestly said, “I can believe that. And I don’t even know what a quetzal is.”

  She hesitated, mocking herself for a fool.

  “All right, Captain, you can buy me a beer at the stand over yonder, and we’ll park our butts on that broken aircar so I can keep an eye on folks. Might need to bust up a fight or two before the night’s out.”

  He went for the beer while she climbed up on her perch, careful of her tender leg. Then she propped hands on knees to keep watch on the crowd. Behind the band, the perimeter lights were burning, illuminating the farmland beyond the fence with a sea of light she hadn’t seen in years. Thank God the right bulbs had been in the supplies. And in their light, the surveillance drones were flying, crisscrossing the fields looking for predators.

  Taggart was back bearing two big duraplast mugs of beer. He handed them up, then jumped up to a seat beside her. “I can’t believe it. She asked for an SDR. Refused a Corporate charge. And all I had was a ten note.”

  “Welcome to our brave new world.”

  Talina had no more said it than Toby Montoya appeared out of the dark asking, “Tal? Is it true that we can use our plunder? We won’t get in trouble?”

  “It’s true. Corporation signed it over. Can’t call it plunder anymore. You found it or traded for it, it’s yours.”

  “Halleluiah!” And he went stumbling off, obviously deep in his cups.

  “Plunder?”

  “Toby’s been sitting on a cache of nuggets and rubies for a couple of years now. His biggest concern was how in the name of hell he was going to smuggle them back to Solar System. Didn’t matter that we kept telling him that even if he got them past customs, he’d never find a legitimate buyer. And if he did, it would be the kind of black market person who’d kill him as soon as look at him.”

  “That’s a fact.” Taggart paused. “You could go back, you know. Woman with your skills, you could pretty much write your own contract.”


  She took a swig of Inga’s beer. Made a face. This batch was a bit green and yeasty yet. “I’ll stay.”

  “Seriously, it might be years before someone mounts a mission to come see what became of the ‘lost colony of Donovan.’ I know how thin things were getting before Turalon’s arrival. They’re going to get a hell of a lot worse.”

  She pointed out past the floodlights to the west. “There are people living out there. Some of them for close to ten years now. It’s a tough haul and a chancy thing that takes a special knowledge and skill. They’ve somehow come to an agreement with Donovan. Something I didn’t have even a glimmer about until I killed that quetzal.”

  “What keeps the predators and metals from killing them?”

  “Most of their water comes from rain, and what doesn’t they purify with cactus mucilage. Grow their own food. Claim they’ve made a deal with the quetzals. A sort of live and let live.”

  “Deal how?”

  “It’s something they can’t explain. I sort of know without knowing. That make any sense?”

  “No. But it’s Donovan,” he told her wryly.

  For a time they just sat, watching the people dance, listening to the music as the band made their magic with two violins, a bass, drums, a couple of guitars, and a trumpet.

  “I want to go out there,” he told her unexpectedly. “It’s as if I’m being called. That there’s something out there for me. The closest I can come is to say that when I leave Donovan, it will be like I’m going with an empty place inside me that will never be complete.”

  She studied him from the corner of her eye. Was this the same Captain Taggart who’d ambushed her in her house and looked forward to shooting her?

  “So . . . go. You’re a bloody damn captain. Commandeer an aircar and pick a direction. But if you want to come back, take me, Trish, Step, or one of the others with you. And pay fucking close attention to everything you’re told, or you’ll stay on Donovan. Most likely as a pile of quetzal or bem shit.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A pause. “Even if I could, I don’t think Kalico would give me permission.”

  “Yeah, I keep forgetting that chain of command problem you Skulls have.”

  “Got another question.”

  “Yep.”

  “Was asking Kalico to validate the titles and deeds your idea?”

  “Shig and Yvette talked me into it.”

  “You were going to take a blunter course of action, weren’t you?”

  She cocked her head, eyes slitted. “What makes you think that?”

  “’Cause it’s what I would have done.” Firelight flickered on his pale and angular face. “Maybe if I’d had a Shig Mosadek to council me and my unruly ways, I might not have ended up here on what’s most likely a suicide run.”

  “That leads me to believe they don’t have a clue about what happened to those missing ships. Turalon made it this far. What makes you think it won’t make it back?”

  “Captain Abibi and her officers are worried sick. And there’s the fate of the Mekong hanging like a deadweight over our heads.” He paused. “So what would you people do if Turalon’s crew mutinied, refused to space, and landed down here demanding asylum?”

  “We’d welcome them with open arms, survey out a garden plot for them, and, as of today, hand them title to their property.”

  “I’d best not let that get around the ship.”

  Talina shrugged. “We’re not going to broadcast it, so don’t lose sleep over it. Our interests here are best served if Turalon makes it back to Solar System all packed up with clay, gold, platinum, gallium arsenide, concentrated lanthanides, scandium, yttrium, and all those gemstones. Your Supervisor might want to write us off, but eventually someone will be back.”

  “You sure?”

  She shrugged and took another swig of beer. “If not it doesn’t make much difference how pure our mineral deposits are. They’ll think it’s more cost-effective to crunch up a couple hundred thousand asteroids and ship poor quality ore up from the Martian and lunar mines than build and send a ship with the attendant risk to life and limb.”

  “And what will you people do out here?”

  “We’ll live, Captain.” She waved her mug toward the crowd. “We’ll sing and dance and suffer and die, but we’ll make lives here. Which is what existence is all about, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve got family back there. Even had a girl once.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “But, if I get the chance, will you take me out there? Beyond the fence and the fields?”

  “I might hold a grudge against someone who was going to stand me against a wall and blow my guts apart.”

  She saw his crooked smile, the amusement in his eyes as they sparkled in the firelight. “I’ll take that chance. My guess is Clemenceau deserved what he got—and no matter what our history is—will you promise to bring me back?”

  “A person can’t make that kind of promise on Donovan, but I’ll give it my best shot. Assuming you’re not a stupid idiot.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “You better hope . . . Ah, shit.” She saw the first thrown punch. Yep. Exman and a Skull. “I gotta see to that. You have a nice night, Captain.” She hopped down, calling over her shoulder, “And thanks for the beer!”

  So, Taggart wanted to see something of Donovan, huh? Maybe he wasn’t as odious as she thought.

  That, or he had motives she could only guess at. In either case, she’d trust him no further than she would a hungry bem.

  28

  The celebrants who packed into Betty Able’s crowded parlor tried to shout over each other as they swilled drinks and laughed; it actually hurt Dan’s ears. Worse, he kept getting jostled by men stumbling into his chair, knocking him with elbows.

  All of which both delighted and annoyed the ever-loving hell out of him.

  This was the game. The one he’d been waiting for.

  The Supervisor had signed the proclamation granting title and deed to all properties duly filed upon and recorded in the administration building records. “Plunder” now belonged to the individual who found it. The wealth of Donovan was free for the taking.

  Alcohol had been flowing along with something called “mash,” a viscous pressing from a local plant called blue nasty. Whatever that was. To date Dan hadn’t bothered to partake, although he’d obtained a fingertip-sized container for Allison.

  She’d absently told him that she hadn’t tried it since she was in her teens, and that it had cost her two days and a severe whipping by her father.

  Dosing her hadn’t even been a challenge. “We’ll do it together,” he’d told her. “Just imagine sex while doing this stuff.”

  All it took was a dab the size of a match head, which he’d easily palmed while pretending to take it.

  The way Allison had writhed and cried out as she clamped herself around him had made him wonder if maybe he hadn’t made a mistake—or if perhaps mash, mixed with Eros, was a combination to be explored for use at Betty Able’s.

  He’d left her exhausted, half-asleep on the bed, her dreamy eyes unfocused as she uttered whimpering sounds of delight and smiled at the nothingness floating above her.

  Dan had dressed and hurried here, to the game, having baited Thumbs Exman for two days in a row. Now he studied the mark where he sat across the table. Thumbs wasn’t a handsome man to start with—a recent fistfight had left him with a swelling bruise on his cheek. Donovan had taken what God had given Exman and made it worse, coarsening his features. The man’s hands were callused, the nails brittle, and he wore a poorly tailored chamois shirt, canvas britches, and shimmering quetzal-hide boots.

  Exman kept blinking at his cards, wincing every time the loud laughter hit a crescendo and flinching when his chair was banged.

  Igor Stryski and Jaime O’Leary sat to either side, unaware that they were a
cting as shills. As needed, Dan threw them a hand, keeping them in the game, knowing just how to reward their weaknesses.

  Exman—some sort of mineral surveyor, prospector, or whatever the hell he was—couldn’t have been a more accommodating mark. The man considered himself smarter, harder, and tougher than any man in the room. He kept bragging about all the things he was going to do when he got back to Solar System.

  “Yep”—Exman shot a wink at O’Leary—“it’s just two years of rest and relaxation aboard Turalon. And then there’s the bonus. I didn’t just quit, you know. Lots of them did. Not me. I figured The Corporation would be fair. Worked nigh onto two and half years after my contract expired.”

  “That why the big three gave you that warehouse on the avenue?” Dan asked mildly. “Big sucker. Lot of space.”

  “Yeah. Used to be the toolshed for the portable core drills. Last of them stopped working and died three years ago.” He tossed a small ruby onto the pile of nuggets and gems.

  The amount of wealth that had appeared as if from thin air could be called flat-out amazing. No doubt it had set the Supervisor back on her heels as well, wondering—as she now no doubt was—if declaring private property rights had been such a good idea.

  Dan raised, tossing in a packet of yuan. “That’s a thousand.”

  “Fold,” O’Leary said, followed immediately by Stryski.

  “How’s your courage, Wally?” Dan asked.

  “Wally? Who’s Wally?” Exman asked.

  “You just look like a Wally to me.” Dan leaned forward. “Are you in? Or is your vaunted talent just bullshit?”

  Thumbs blinked, fighting the whiskey haze in his head as he studied his cards. Then he squinted at the pot; gold, yuans and SDRs, and clustered gems that sparkled red, green, pink, and topaz. Most of it was his: he’d been losing slowly but surely.

  “How much is that?”

  Dan leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I figure I’m in about forty thousand. You’re a couple of thousand short.” He glanced at Stryski. “You agree, Igor?”