Outpost

by W. Michael Gear

  “Good work. Thanks, Benj.” Trish took a deep breath, lowered her rifle and massaged her biceps.

  Where the hell is Cap?

  Damn it, she really didn’t like the guy. Cap’s presence made everything different. Especially between her and Talina.

  “You serious about making a place for us?” Katsuro asked.

  She glanced out beyond the fence. “Damned straight. We’ll make a place for you. Starting tomorrow when we try and find the killer’s tracks.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Promise you one thing, Private. You’ll never be bored.”

  He paused, shifting uneasily. “Before we go back, I need to find Cap. Give him a heads-up about Spiro, Garcia, Shintzu, and Talbot.”

  “Sure. We’ll work our way back to the admin dome. Check and see if he’s with Tal. If not, most of the search teams head for Inga’s. Probably find him there.”

  “Hope he’s okay.”

  “Yeah, me, too. ’Cause if you’re right and either the Supervisor or Lieutenant Spiro did him harm, Talina will kill them, and then we’re really gonna have a bloodbath.”

  70

  Talina led the way, passing from one pool of light to another along Port Authority’s main avenue. In retrospect, she wondered if her reliance on the quetzal inside her was a good thing. She’d half depended on it, expecting at any moment that it would warn her if she were about to stumble onto the intruder.

  You’ve got to be damned careful, Tal.

  Time to turn to her next problem: Her search team, composed of four locals and three marines, including Lieutenant Spiro, walked with slung weapons. The lieutenant had barely spoken, her presence almost a hindrance in spite of the battle tech that should have enhanced the search.

  Talina took a deep breath, exhaling to the night as the first sliver of the half-moon crested the eastern horizon.

  “Lieutenant,” she asked, “do we have a problem?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t have to like me, and I don’t have to like you, but a modicum of civility might ensure that we can at least cooperate on joint areas of concern.”

  Tal gifted the woman with a sidelong glance, trying to read her features in the lamplight.

  Spiro’s blocky face was taut with distaste. “Security Officer, I’ve got nothing to say to you past what I’m forced to because of duty. So, how about you shut your conniving yap, and your future will be both longer and less painful.”

  Behind her, Tal’s people gasped and responded by unslinging their rifles and swinging them around.

  The marines shifted, unslinging their own weapons. Spiro seemed unaware.

  “I’ve never done anything to you.”

  “Yeah. Right. Now shut the fuck up, bitch.”

  The quetzal in Talina’s gut reacted to the harder beat of her heart, the cold anger under her breast. She forced herself to keep her rifle slung, but her hand dropped to her pistol butt.

  Careful, Tal, she told herself. Something about this isn’t right. She’s pushing you. Spoiling for a fight.

  With her other hand, she gestured for her people to stand down.

  “I don’t know why you’re pushing, Lieutenant, but no matter what you’ve heard about me. I’m not playing your game tonight. You got a problem with me, you come tell me when we’re not up to our asses in a situation. That suit you?”

  “Better than you and that traitorous piece of shit you’re screwing can know.”

  “Ah. I see.” She glanced over her shoulder at the marines as they walked under the next light. They looked nervous. “Folks move on with their lives, Lieutenant. Allowing your personal problems to affect your ability to command isn’t just unprofessional, it’ll get people killed.” To the marines, she called, “Keep an eye on her, people.”

  Spiro halted, hand slapping her rifle as she turned. “I ought to shoot you down right here, right now, you lying slit.”

  Tal raised her hands. “Like I said, we get the current situation solved and brought to a conclusion, I’m yours. But for the moment, I need you to act like an officer of the marines instead of a jilted schoolgirl. So buck up to the task at hand. Can you do that? As a professional worthy of your people’s respect?”

  Spiro’s lips twitched, her eyes like dark pools in the shadowed light cast by the overhead lamp. “So help me, you and that shitass are—”

  “Lieutenant?” the marine called Abu Sassi asked. “Are we still on duty?”

  Spiro ground her teeth. “On duty, Private. Just one question for the civilian: Where’s Talbot, Shintzu, and Garcia? Did you and Mister Taggart add them to your little mutiny plot, or did you take a more severe measure?”

  Tal cocked her head, the quetzal bunched in her gut. Her muscles were charged, her vision so fine it read the heat in Spiro’s cheeks. “Never heard of them, but I’m guessing they’re some of your marines. I’ll tell you straight. I don’t have a clue as to where they are. And I give you my word, if they’ve deserted, they didn’t come through Port Authority to my knowledge.”

  “Your word is as worthless as shit in a toilet, Perez.” Spiro turned, stalking off at a fast pace.

  “Tal?” Mgumbe asked as he fingered his rifle, eyes slitted.

  “Stand down.” As she started forward, she asked the marine, Abu Sassi, “What’s this all about? Why’s she chewing on my ass, trying to get me to kill her?”

  The marine glanced at his fellows. “She’s ragging on you because it’s all falling apart. We’re falling apart. Turning on each other. Got to blame someone, and you started it when you ran off with Cap and made him . . .”

  “Made him?” she asked when he couldn’t finish. “She thinks I stole Cap and seduced him away from his duty?” She laughed aloud and slapped her thigh. “Oh, God, Private. That’s about the most ironic joke you could tell. When we went down, my first instinct was to cut his throat rather than have him slow me down in the bush.” She laughed again. “Me? Seduce him? The man was going to have me shot, if you’ll recall.”

  Mgumbe and the others were laughing, and he called, “Trust me, Private. Talina Perez isn’t the kind to seduce anyone. Crack ’em in the head, maybe.”

  Abu Sassi glanced at his fellows, then at the lieutenant who was now fifty meters ahead and making distance. “You told the truth about Garcia, Shin, and Talbot?”

  “Private, what your people do is their business. Shig, Yvette, me, Mgumbe, and Montoya here, we could care less. But I’d have heard about marines trying to desert, believe me.”

  Again the marines glanced back and forth before Abu Sassi asked, “So you and Cap didn’t hatch any plan to talk us into deserting?”

  “Nope. Might not have been a bad idea, but we’ve had our asses busy trying to keep your people from killing each other. And we’re still not sure that’s taken care of.”

  “She fucking lied,” Private Anderssoni muttered. “I still think she sent Shin, Talbot, and Garcia after the captain.”

  “Want to explain that?” Talina asked as they rounded the corner before the admin dome. Spiro had disappeared into the building.

  “Nothing we know, just a suspicion,” Abu Sassi said, slowing to a stop. “Some of us wonder if the Supervisor might have ordered Spiro to put the captain down. You know, as an example to the rest of us. For Miso and some of us, that cut the cord.”

  Talina cursed, accessing her com. “Shig, Trish, Step? Anybody seen Cap Taggart? Anyone know where he is?”

  She listened as one by one they checked in with negatives.

  “I heard he was at Inga’s just before the siren went off,” Lawson told her. “Haven’t seen him since.”

  Talina’s lungs seemed starved. “Mgumbe, get everyone back to the dome. Tell the rest I’ll be there as soon as I find Cap.”

  She turned, unslung the rifle, and ran.

  At Inga’s sh
e slammed through the door, trotted down the steps, and scanned the faces. “Hey, any of you assholes seen Cap?”

  “Nope.” “Not since the siren.” “Figured he was with you.” A chorus of rejoinders and shaking heads came in reply.

  Turning, she took the stairs two at a time.

  Out in the night, she paused, glanced up at the half-moon. “Where would you have gone, Cap?”

  He was still a Skull—wouldn’t have known the first place she would have gone was to the admin dome.

  “Home?” she wondered. Unlike her, he would have thought of the rifles, wouldn’t have known that she’d pull one from the armory rack rather than take the time to fetch her own.

  Talina took off at a sprint, her heart hammering. That was Trish’s section to clear. She’d have had someone dedicated to the head count. Knocking on doors. If Cap was there, he would have answered, asked what the hell was up.

  Bullshit. Cap would have come to help. Sitting at home through an emergency wasn’t his style.

  The quetzal twisted around inside her, agitated, almost electric.

  “You piece of shit,” she muttered to the beast. “This is Cap we’re talking about.”

  “Soon now. Both.”

  She ground her jaws, panting as she charged through the night, rounded the corner to her street, and saw the big loader with its tilted bucket in front of her house. If she needed to get the cart in, had to rescue Cap, the thing was going to complicate the hell out it.

  She rounded the tire, pounded up her steps, and saw the checkmark on her door. Whoever Trish had assigned had been here. At least knocked on the door.

  “Knowing I wasn’t home.”

  She slammed the door open and palmed on the lights. The first thing she noticed was the rifle rack. Empty. Cap had at least made it this far.

  “Cap?”

  No answer.

  She’d turned, headed back out, when the quetzal sent a shock through her, bending her double. She gasped. A blinding pain stunned her. A terrible pain, like something jagged being pulled sideways through her guts. She barely realized when the rifle slipped from her fingers to clatter onto her floor.

  Reeling, she staggered for balance. Barely made it to her couch. The pain receded.

  “What the fuck was that?” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath.

  “Now.”

  With every last ounce of her strength, she fought her way to her feet. Started toward the door, only to have the quetzal strike again. She heard herself shriek from the pain. Both hands went to her stomach as she bent double and threw up.

  “Fuck!” she screamed when she could finally spit and clear her mouth.

  “Tal?” the hoarse call barely penetrated her staggered senses. “Run!” the voice rasped.

  She glanced at the door to her bedroom. Tried to make sense of the image.

  Cap seemed to float in the doorway, feet inches above the floor, legs swaying and flopping. Something big, black, and looming filled the darkness in the room behind him.

  The quetzal inside her radiated in hot glee.

  Talina pawed for her pistol, gritted her teeth, and drew it from the holster. “Cap?” she gasped, trying to gulp air.

  “Run!”

  She lifted the pistol, tried to align the sights with whatever held his body to block the doorway.

  Agony stabbed through her like a steel spike.

  The world spun, and she vaguely felt herself hit the floor. Lost the pistol. Every muscle in her body convulsed.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered through tears.

  She blinked, fingers slipping along the floor. From the corner of her eye, she saw Cap as he was flung across the room to slam into the counter that separated her kitchen from the main room. He hit the counter like a rag doll, the impact loud in the room.

  The quetzal that emerged from her bedroom shifted from black to a blaze of white and crimson. The thing was big, a good six meters in length and just shy of two meters at the hips. It carefully closed with her and lowered its head to stare into her eyes.

  Paralyzed from within, she stared from eye to eye, the head so close she couldn’t focus on all three at once.

  Faster than she could react, the quetzal’s tongue blurred, striking past her lips and parted teeth.

  A squeal tried to form at the bottom of her throat. She jerked her head back as saliva rushed to fill her mouth. The taste was overpowering. Bitter peppermint. The tongue flickered this way and that. Alien, invasive.

  Talina stiffened, outraged by the violation, and clamped down with all the power in her jaws. Like biting into a roll of leather, she tried to chew the quetzal’s tongue in two.

  The quetzal shrilled. Talina’s head was whipped sideways, the muscles nearly pulled from the bones in her neck and shoulders.

  She hit the wall with a thud, wondering if her teeth had been yanked from their sockets. For a moment the impact freed her from the beast’s hold inside her.

  She clambered up, supported by the wall.

  “You kill me. We now kill you.”

  “You’re related,” she realized, the peppermint-extract taste of quetzal cloying in her mouth. “Born together.”

  “One for one.”

  “Revenge,” she whispered. “That’s the word.”

  The great quetzal was closing. Pulsing in bands of crimson, yellow, and black, the collar flared wide around the beast’s scaled head, dazzling in its distracting display.

  Talina stared, mesmerized by the brilliant colors. Some part of her howled in terror as the serrated jaws separated. The creature’s three eyes glowed from an inner light that sparked with hatred and rage.

  The deafening report of a pistol shot broke the spell, and the great quetzal turned in a flash.

  Cap had staggered to his feet, somehow managed to lay his hands on Talina’s pistol. He wobbled, blinked, took a breath and shot again. To brace himself, he leaned his hip against her couch. Tried to steady his rubbery arms as the pistol wavered in his grip.

  The quetzal struck with its tail, taking Cap’s legs out from under him as it smashed him into the wall. The couch went with him, crashing through the side of the dome.

  In that instant, Talina closed her eyes. Filled her head with images of water. She was drowning, sinking, thrashing for air. She looked up, imagining a bobbing pattern of sunlight through waves. Clawed futilely for the surface as she sank. Then she imagined the sensation of water filling her lungs, the bursting sense of panic.

  The beast inside her cowered back. She felt its hold on her loosen.

  Talina staggered to the door where it still hung open. She threw herself out, tumbled painfully down the steps. The quetzal in her gut shrilled its rage as it tried to fight its way back into control.

  “Quetzal at my house!” she screamed hoarsely into her com.

  “What? Where? Your house?”

  On all fours, Talina scrambled past the tire on the loader. She huddled back against the front axle as the hunting quetzal leaped onto the street. Clawed feet thumped into the dirt just beyond the bucket.

  Talina bent to the com mic. “Fuck you, yes! Get here!”

  In triumph the quetzal issued a whistling shriek and ducked its head down to peer at her under the flat-bottomed bucket.

  “Talina?” She ignored the rest of Two Spots’ frantic questions as the quetzal’s gaze met hers.

  Talina slipped under the axle as the creature shot its head under the bucket and snapped its jaws within inches of her body. Then, in a lightning move, the huge beast darted around the tire.

  Talina barely had time to roll back under the axle as the jaws closed on air where she’d been but a heartbeat before.

  She vaguely heard Two Spots chattering in her earbud.

  Swallowing hard, heart pumping fear through her veins, she clawed at he
r belt. Found only her knife.

  The quetzal screamed, bounced back to the front, and thrust its head under the bucket.

  Talina rolled back under the axle, every muscle trembling. She sucked breath into her shivering lungs. How long could she keep this up?

  Again the quetzal shifted, and again her body convulsed in pain. She barely made it back under the axle.

  A game of time.

  And if the beast in her belly could recover? If it fully unleashed that pain again? Slowed her just a bit more than it already did?

  Talina cradled her knife before her, gripping the handle.

  You can’t kill a quetzal with a knife.

  Striking at the scaled head, it would just slip off.

  Strike at an eye?

  Sure. The only way she’d be able to reach it was if the fucking thing already had hold of her.

  She rolled under the axle as the quetzal ducked around the tire, jaws clapping shut like a shot.

  Talina glanced up. The gap behind the bucket and load arms was a chance. Could she wiggle up in that space? Could she do it in time?

  This time the quetzal tried the other tire. She barely whipped her foot away as she rolled under the axle.

  “Nothing to lose.” She leaped up, got an arm around a bundle of hydraulic hoses. Hanging, she barely managed to jerk her feet up in time. Quetzal jaws snapped within an inch of her toes.

  Talina fought to fill her lungs, to keep her hold in the awkward close quarters. “Come on, someone has to be on the way. Where’s the marines when you need them?”

  Two Spots was still yammering questions she didn’t have time for.

  She felt the machine shake as the quetzal tried to squeeze itself under the bucket. Talina pulled herself higher, got her arms over the bundled hydraulic lines.

  How long could she keep her legs drawn up? How long before the muscles in her belly and thighs tired? She could already feel them burning.

  And then the pain hit her, causing her to scream, “Fuck you!”

  Rescue wasn’t coming fast enough.

  She took a deep breath against the pain. With nothing left to her, she wedged the knife in amongst the hydraulic lines. As hope failed, and the pain lanced through her again, she entrusted all of her weight to the knife.