Outpost

by W. Michael Gear

  “Could be,” Betty agreed, glanced around. “You’ve done well for yourself, Dan.” Her voice dropped. “Wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “Donovan’s just a world of opportunity.”

  “For the right kind.” Her gaze cooled. “What do you have the tables set to pay out?”

  “A little under thirty-five percent for the house. Odds differ depending on the game.” He pointed to the cameras he’d acquired to peer down at his customers. Since the validation of the deeds and titles, everything was for sale in Port Authority. “I’ve got a couple of statistical programs monitoring the action to keep tabs. I want people to know they’re getting a fair shake.”

  Her clever eyes didn’t match her disarming smile. “But you could change that, couldn’t you?”

  “Betty, let me be frank. I want to give my clientele whatever they want. If they come in here looking to relax over a drink, that’s what I want to provide them. If they want to come in and try their luck, have a good chance to walk out with a little something extra, why that’s fine, too. If they think they can buck the tiger on two-hundred-to-one long odds like Spin the Wheel, or betting black twenty-two on the roulette table, I’m all for letting them try.”

  “So what did you want to see me for?” She leaned back as he reached over for a second glass, set it before her, and poured it half-full of brandy.

  “I have two rooms across the hall.”

  “Used to be Thumbs’ personal storage.”

  “Those are the ones.”

  “Why do I care?” She lifted the brandy, sipped, and nodded.

  “I want Angelina in one of those rooms.”

  Betty seemed to freeze, as if her heart had skipped. “And just how do you think Allison is going to react to that?”

  Fool, Dan thought. You don’t think I’ve got my own house under control?

  It hadn’t been as hard as he’d thought to convince Allison that it was in the Jewel’s interest to offer sexual services. She’d made a face at the mention, but her resistance softened as Dan laid out the potential financial returns.

  “It won’t be like at Betty’s,” he’d told Allison in his most reasonable voice. “Not whores, but more like courtesans.”

  “How’s that?” Allison had crossed her arms, but the frown on her brow indicated curiosity about a life with which she’d had no contact.

  Dan had given her his conspiratorial wink. “Consider the floor, darling. All filled with potential marks, but the games are new, sometimes intimidating. Gambling has been illegal for years. Vigorously prosecuted by The Corporation back home, and essentially unheard of here. Now, what if a mark had a guide, someone with whom he’d been intimate, who could steer him through the complexities of the game? Someone who, if he wins, could take him into the back to share his good luck?”

  “You have someone in mind to be this guide?” She’d arched an eyebrow.

  “Angelina. You’ve heard of her?”

  “Grew up with her. She was a couple of years younger than me. Her father died when she was young. It was her mother who urged her to go to Betty’s, make money on what she was giving away for free anyway.”

  “She’s a smart woman,” Dan had said. “Talked to her a couple of times when she was between tricks and I had my game at Betty’s. Said she’d like a higher standard of living. Wants more opportunity than she’s currently got.”

  “How much opportunity?” Allison had arched a suspicious eyebrow.

  “That would depend on how well she can learn the games, and her dexterity when it came to separating the mark from his plunder. If she made us another hundred thousand a year, how much compensation do you think that would be worth?”

  Allison had immediately sharpened. “You think Angelina could make us that much?”

  “More probably.” He’d watched Allison’s suspicion and resistance crumble.

  Now it was Betty’s turn to fall. Dan told her, “Oh, believe me. Allison’s definitely on board. It’s not like I’m going into competition with your house. Just the opposite, in fact. I’m willing to hand out tokens to your place as part of the winnings.”

  “Oh? Just out of the goodness of your heart?”

  He gave her a bland smile. “Goodness has nothing to do with it. For a percentage, of course. It’s a win-win for both of us. You get a john fresh from the tables with money in his pocket and a token for, say, a free hand job. No telling how many would want to up that to the full treatment.”

  She might have been granite. “But I’m down my best-earning girl. The ones the regulars want to patronize. Who do I put in her room?”

  “Who do you want?”

  “Kalico Aguila?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a fantastic turn of events? This whole town would hand over their fortunes to literally fuck The Corporation. Some just to see if she’s as good looking naked as they think she is. Wonder what it would take to get her?”

  She blinked, taken aback by his reply.

  He waved it away. “We can fantasize, can’t we? Getting back to the point, I’ve got three women who’d be glad to step into Angelina’s place.”

  “Who?”

  “Manzanita Hamilton, Miko Ituro, and Solange Flossey. In fact all three ladies are rather desperate at the moment to make income.”

  “Manzanita I know. These other two must have come on Turalon. Why would Manzanita, with her own dome and a sack full of plunder, want to make a living on her back? She’s never been a prude, but I wouldn’t call her loose, either.”

  “She no longer has a dome or plunder.” Dan sipped his brandy, letting his satisfaction show. “In fact, she’s rather desperate to keep her dome. Told me she’d do anything to get title back and not have to move out into the street.”

  “She lost at your tables, huh?”

  “Miko and Solange, it seems, have a similar failing, especially when it comes to covering their markers. Sure, they could both opt to ship out on Turalon, but there’s no telling when she’s going to space. And, well, neither lady is willing to cross me. In fact, both seem rather anxious to remain in my good graces.”

  He made a face. “They keep bringing up poor old Thumbs Exman. Wish they wouldn’t. I liked Thumbs. Considered him a friend. And to think, unlike people who owe me money, Thumbs wasn’t under a single obligation.”

  He paused, tightened an eye. “Too bad that his killer’s still on the loose. Never know when he might strike again. Who he’d choose, or why.”

  As he’d spoken, Betty Able had stiffened, realization crystallizing behind her eyes.

  Dan smiled. “That’s the thing about people. Most are willing to make things right. Just give them a chance. I’ll send all three gals over to your place. You can interview them, make your own decision. Take one, two, or all three if you want. I can have a construction crew there within a day or two if you decide to add extra rooms out back.”

  A frost might have settled on Betty’s soul given the anxiety in her expression. “I’ll have you paid back soon as I can, Dan. Hope you know that.”

  “Hey! Drink your brandy, Betty. I know that you’re good for it. In fact, that’s why I called you over. We’ve done pretty well together. I’d like to buy in. Partnership. I figure your place is worth about forty thousand yuan, maybe ten grand in SDRs.”

  Betty’s racing heart could be seen where the artery pulsed in her neck. She was thinking hard, putting it all in perspective. She owed him. Didn’t dare try and stiff him, knowing full well that she could end up just as dead as Thumbs Exman. Dan had to admire her, she was struggling mightily to maintain her sense of optimism as she frantically searched for a way out.

  “Forty thousand?” she asked dryly, eyes gone vacant.

  Dan sipped his brandy. “What do you say I call your debt even, and throw in another couple thousand yuan? That will give me just over fifty percent ownership. You
’ll still be in charge over there, run things the way you always have. The difference is, I’ve got your back financially. Or when it comes to any labor problems, or other difficulties. And, like I said earlier, we can augment both businesses. I send winners over to your place with a token, you hand out free chips to any johns your people turn. They can come here and try their luck on the house.”

  “What if I decide . . . ?” She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t utter the words that might seal her death.

  “Oh, please don’t, Betty. Not in a place like Port Authority where a simple mistake could be . . . well, permanent.”

  “You’ve talked to Angelina about this?”

  “Of course. She’s as keen for an opportunity as anyone.”

  Betty swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and nodded. “I’ll have Angelina pack her things. As to the papers . . .” Again she couldn’t manage to utter the words.

  “Oh, don’t bother your head about them.” Dan reached over for the sheaf of papers on his desk. “I’ve already drawn them up. All you need to do is sign, and I’ll have Yvette Dushane register them.”

  She finally raised her pained eyes to his. “Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

  “What do I want?” He chuckled happily. “Just a seat at the big table, Betty. And, by God, I will have it.”

  39

  Lightning flashed. Seconds later thunder hammered the room, shaking the walls of the administration dome. Trish glanced at the window as heavy rain slashed down out of the darkened sky to sheet across the glass.

  She prayed it was raining on Talina. Making her absolutely miserable. If it were, that meant Tal was still alive to be inconvenienced.

  At his desk, Shig’s expression communicated disgust as he shuffled the papers and handed them over to Yvette Dushane.

  “Nothing we can do about it,” he said. “It’s all legal. The guy bought into Betty’s business.”

  Trish raised her arms helplessly. “There’s more to it. I swear. When I talked to Betty, there was this hesitation, almost fear. I mean, she’s always been a hard woman, tougher than quetzal leather, but she was holding back. Insisted that it was her decision to accept Wirth’s offer. Insisted that, as a partner, he was backing her expansion by paying for the new rooms in back.”

  “Betty was barely hanging on as it was,” Yvette mused. “Turalon’s arrival changed all that by altering the sex ratio. Could be that they’re betting Freelander is going to bring in that much more business.”

  “Maybe,” Shig said with a weary shrug. “Whatever is wrong with Freelander is serious. Were it not, Supervisor Aguila would be advising us on how many transportees to expect, shuttle schedules, priority down-shipments, available manpower, and all the rest.”

  “She hasn’t asked for the marines to ship up.” Yvette rubbed her nose as she scanned the papers registering Dan Wirth’s majority ownership in Betty Able’s building and business. “That means whatever is wrong, it’s not going to require enforcement.”

  “The only communication we’ve had about Freelander is ambiguous.” Shig thoughtfully laced his fingers together. “Nothing about personnel, which suggests to me that either the ship is abandoned, or . . .”

  “Or they’re all dead.” Trish put her worst fears into words. Of course, she was thinking of Talina and Taggart. The notion that her best friend’s bones were moldering out there in that huge expanse of forest haunted her in the wee hours of the night. As did the guilt that Trish had somehow failed her friend. That she’d not searched hard enough.

  All the more reason for her to hate that despicable Dan Wirth. He’d distracted her from paying attention to Talina’s plight. If he hadn’t murdered Exman when he did, she’d have been on it. Realized immediately that Talina was overdue. She’d have found that outcrop before Talina was forced to leave it in search of water and food.

  No one can walk across kilometers of thick forest, Talina. What got into you?

  To top it all off, Wirth had gotten away with the murder.

  “I should just shoot the son of a bitch.”

  Shig and Yvette both raised their eyes, startled by the violence in Trish’s voice. She added, “Talina tagged him that day at the shuttle port. Said right then that shooting Wirth would probably save us all a lot of heartache.”

  “That could come back to haunt us somewhere down the line,” Shig noted absently. “Though it does have its appeal.”

  “Talina said he was a quetzal, camouflaged by his easygoing nature and boyish charm.” Trish crossed her arms as lightning strobed outside the window.

  “He’s got title to half a dozen properties around Port Authority,” Yvette noted. “At the moment he’s our largest landholder. All of it came through my office, duly filed, with both parties having signed.”

  “He won it. Gambling. Didn’t earn it the hard way. Our people had no clue. No idea how gambling worked. It was totally new. Something fun and exciting. Right up to the moment they couldn’t pay. Worse, some of them still haven’t wised up.”

  “Going to outlaw gambling, are we?” Shig had that absolutely aggravating placid expression on his face.

  “No one is forcing anyone to enter the Jewel.” Yvette walked over and filed Betty Able’s papers in the title drawer.

  “One of those domes Wirth owns is Manzanita Hamilton’s, isn’t it?” Trish asked.

  “It is.” Yvette didn’t even have to check the records.

  “She’s one of Wirth’s new whores at Betty’s. When I tried to ask her about it, she told me to go away. That it was her business. Her decision. And the whole time she wouldn’t meet my eyes. You ask me, this whole thing stinks.”

  “What would you have us do?” Yvette asked. “Tell people they have to get our approval to sell or trade property? Pass an ordinance banning gambling? Or prostitution? Or just unilaterally banish Dan Wirth? Do you know how that would play over the long run? Protecting Donovanians from themselves would make us a laughing stock.”

  “It’s an old problem,” Shig said softly. “One that’s haunted human society from the beginning. Who makes the decisions governing the behavior of others? Where is the balance between individual freedom and the normative behavior of the society? Back in Solar System, The Corporation dictates everything, right down to the style of underwear a person wears. We, on the other hand, tossed out the Corporate book after Clemenceau’s demise and ran full-tilt into the camp of ultimate libertarianism: do as you will, take responsibility for yourself, as long as you only harm yourself. It’s unwritten, but it has become our creed.”

  “The man’s a predator,” Trish insisted.

  “And a very adept one at that,” Shig agreed. “So what would you condemn him for? Misleading the gullible? Preying on the willing? The only actionable offense he may have committed was the murder and robbery of Thumbs Exman, but as you continually note, you have no proof that he was the perpetrator.”

  “Is it that easy for you?” Trish demanded.

  “No.” Shig sighed and ran fingers through his mop of disheveled hair. “Nor has it ever been for anyone. While it is inevitable that we will start down the path of protecting the people from themselves, I’m not willing to begin that process quite yet.”

  “Why not?” Yvette asked.

  “Because I am not ready to begin instituting the hypocrisy of governance.” Shig smiled absently. “Ultimately government and hypocrisy become synonymous. The assumption spreads that government best knows what is good for its people, when ultimately it does not. And the inevitability of one set of permissive rules for the governors, and another set of much stricter rules for the governed, just sticks in my throat like a rotten fruit.”

  “So, just let him get away with it?” Trish asked as thunder banged outside the dome.

  “I’m with Trish,” Yvette snapped.

  “Question.” Shig raised his eyebrows. “Who gave us the a
uthority to eliminate this man?”

  “Well, we’re . . .” Yvette frowned. “What did the Supervisor call us? The triumvirate?”

  “That was you, me, and Talina,” Shig objected. “Not you, me, and Trish. And, if we get right down to it, whoever invested us with the authority to run Port Authority, let alone, Donovan? I recall no election, not even a popular acclamation. Nor do I remember seizing control by force of arms. Governance was never granted us by any writ from The Corporation transferring authority to you, me, and Talina. Parse it down, and the only authority invested in any of us is by the lack of objection from anyone else, including, oddly enough, even the Supervisor.”

  “Does this have a point?” Trish asked.

  “Only if you come from the academic camp that studies the concept of social contract and the philosophy of government.” Shig lifted his hands helplessly.

  “Can you say that in language I can understand?” Trish shook her head.

  “Ipso facto.” Yvette winked at her. “We’re here because we’re here.”

  Shig added, “But just because we’re here and have accepted the responsibility, my suspicion is that the people wouldn’t consent to Trish killing Dan Wirth just because we suspect him of murdering Thumbs. Nor would they condone killing him for successfully obtaining property through his games of chance. If anything, most I’ve talked to—while they don’t trust him—actually rather admire his spunk and initiative. Newcomer that he is, they nevertheless consider him a sort of Donovanian success story.”

  “God, I’m going to puke,” Trish whispered. “I wish Talina were here. She’d just shoot him and ask, ‘What the hell are you going to do about it?’”

  “That’s Talina,” Shig agreed with a laugh. “And only Talina. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  “How’s that?” Yvette asked.

  “Talina is judged by a separate criterion, set apart by a suprapopular ethical standard in which her actions are automatically assumed to be for the common good.”

  “Ever since Clemenceau she’s never killed anyone who didn’t need killing,” Yvette agreed. “God, I wish she were here.”