“You’re out of your mind, woman!” snarled Drake.
Without warning, Tally lunged at him. She swung her fists wildly. Drake easily blocked Tally’s blows, and then used her own momentum to propel her into a flip. She landed hard on her back with a crash.
The bartender was at his side in a flash. “Hey! Take it outside, spacer-boy!”
“No problem,” Drake said. “We’re just leaving.”
He bent down, draped one of Tally’s arms over his shoulder, and stood the woman back up again. She shook her head like a dog that had been doused with cold water.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Miss Taylor.”
“Oh, no problem,” she slurred. “I broke my fall with my head.”
“I need to talk with you,” Drake, repeated, as he steered her outside. “Your place or mine, it doesn’t matter.”
The Captain herded his charge out onto the street and waved down a passing pedicab. He got Tally on board as the driver turned and spoke to them. “Where to?” he asked, after a puzzled glance at his two passengers.
“My home,” said Tally, speaking a little more clearly. Drake appraised her critically. “I don’t want to been seen anywhere else...like this.”
She recited an address that Drake recognized as one of the upper-class neighborhoods. The cabbie nodded, and they sped off into the bustle of the night. Tally didn’t speak again as the pedicab wound its way out of the neon-drenched downtown and out towards the palm-tree lined avenues along the waterfront.
After they pulled to a stop, Drake paid the cabbie and got his charge out of the pedicab in front of a house that resembled a Spanish Mission crossed with a medieval keep. Miraculously, Tally remained sober enough to give voiceprint and retinal scans to her home security system. Drake had noted, in passing, that the system contained motion detectors, laser sentry guns, and sliding gates topped with barbed wire.
He could see why as soon as he crossed over the marble slabs of the entryway. The automated security system shut the gate and front doors behind him, and then turned on the house’s lights. The total worth of Tally’s furnishings must have been incalculable. A case of Aztec jewelry glittered along one wall, while display cases containing medieval coins, Greek armor, and Chinese vases peppered the others.
Drake spotted the doorway to the master bedroom. He carried Tally over to a four-poster brass bed and gently set her down on it. She let out a snore that would have done credit to a ripsaw.
He sat for a moment at the bedside. Drake gently turned her head to the side, and the snoring died away. In sleep, Tally’s face was angelic, innocent. It made him think of something as she lay there, something which touched him deeply. It didn’t arouse any feelings of urgency in him. He was a patient man, and he knew that his brain would supply the answer in due time.
It was late, and Drake didn’t want to set off any of Tally’s alarm system. He found a large couch in the living room, set underneath a mural-sized Andy Warhol lithograph, and decided that it would do. He simply re-arranged the cushions for a makeshift pillow and then spread his field jacket over himself as a blanket. These were better sleeping arrangements than he’d had on many a ship.
The first fingers of sleep caressed his brow just as his brain supplied the answer to his earlier feelings. Tally was a strong, adventurous woman, one who had surprised him with her nerve in the face of danger. But that wasn’t what had evoked his memories as she had lain there. Her looks, her attitude, they all came together so that Tally made him think of someone.
She reminds me of Rori.
Drake closed his eyes and drifted back into his past.
Blonde tresses bouncing as she ran, twelve-year old Rori pulled ahead of him effortlessly, her golden skin shining in the sunlight. He tried to keep up with her, but her legs were simply too long. They ran through the sun-dappled woods, leaves crunching under their shoes as they headed for the tree by the river. His endurance kicked in now, and he started to close the gap. But her palms slapped the tree bark right before his. She spun to face him, smiling in triumph.
“Not bad, squirt,” she teased, as she affectionately tousled his hair. “Who knows? Someday you might even beat me.”
Benjamin huffed and puffed, trying to catch his breath. “How about we go two out of three?”
“Don’t you try to weasel out of a deal with me!” She put her hands on her hips. “Pay up.”
“You’re gonna be a hard woman, sis.”
He handed over a coin. Fair was fair. And besides, he didn’t particularly relish being beaten up again by his older sister. Especially if he was too tired to put up a good fight.
“You just noticed? I’m hurt.”
They set out for the riverbank, relishing the fresh, moist air. A thunderstorm had rolled through last night and scoured the atmosphere so clean that it looked like someone had given the world a fresh coat of paint.
Benjamin and Rori were city kids at heart. To be out in the woods was a treat they indulged in every time they visited their grandparents in South Coahoma. The town was little more than a city dweller’s retreat from the Memphis sprawl, but many of its neighborhoods had pretty views over one of the sprawling arms of the Mississippi.
But near their grandparents’ house, the river had cut off one of its sinuous loops, leaving a stagnant backwater and a lonely island. The swampy section had begun the slow process of turning into dry woodland, a task that would span another three or four decades.
“Now look at that,” Rori breathed, as they came to the backwater’s edge. “That’s just perfect!”
She pointed to where one of the old sycamore trees had blown over in last night’s storm, forming a natural bridge across the swamp to the island in the middle of the backwater’s loop.
“I’m not sure I like the looks of this,” Benjamin muttered. To his eyes, that island looked a long way off.
She gave her younger brother a stern look. “Do I hear the sound of clucking? Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Right here in my pocket. But my pocket’s got a hole in it.”
“Oh, come on! See if you can keep up.”
With a fluid leap, Rori got up on the trunk. She began to cross towards the far bank. Benjamin climbed up after her, suddenly nervous. He felt the awful slipperiness of the wet lichen under his shoes. His stomach knotted as each of Rori’s steps made the trunk shiver.
She was maybe halfway across when they heard the wood make a loud snap.
Rori froze. Her voice came out in a fearful whisper. “Was that what I think it was?”
Benjamin’s voice dropped to a whisper as well.
“Yeah. Drop to all fours. Then turn around, real slow like.”
She nodded, trusting her brother. Between the two of them, he had always been the cool-headed one in emergencies. She bent forward, spreading her weight, digging her fingernails into the wood. Benjamin felt an icy drop of sweat crawl down his brow. His vision took on a terrible new clarity. All he could see below was a black, watery pit filled with choking weeds and strangling mud.
“Come on now,” he urged her, as she managed to turn around.
Another soft snap, and Rori’s face went ashen with fear. She forgot everything but her need to get off the trunk. Terrified, she tried to run. With a final crack, the tree split in half, and down she went into the dark water. He screamed his sister’s name and dove in after her.
One of the first things Benjamin remembered after feeling the cold, greasy surface slip above his nostrils was the paramedic team jamming a tube down his mouth. The tube pulled out the water and forced air into his lungs in painful, icy bursts.
Rori lay nearby on the sodden grass where the team had pulled them out. They pulled water out of her, pushed air in. Tried to stimulate her brain, jump-start her heart.
But she remained cold and still.
Chapter Six
The sweet-sour smell of Tally’s own breath greeted her as she woke. Greeted her with a horrible, clear-cut familiarity. It smel
led like home.
Tally sat up. Blinked at the light of the sun as it peeked over the eastern horizon, rapidly turning the sky from pink to blue. She dug her knuckles into the hollow of her temples as if they could excavate the nuggets of pain lodged behind her eyeballs. As quickly as her stomach would allow, she lurched on unsteady feet to the bathroom.
Yeah, she thought, it’s worse than hell. It’s just like being home again. On the lucky days I’d smell bacon grease, which meant Momma would at least have something to eat. It was a lot worse smelling nothing.
Tally wrung the last turn from the cold faucet on the sink and splashed cool water on her face. She squinted at her reflection in the mirror, watched as her blonde tresses whipped behind her neck as the automatic blower came on, drying her. A quick shot of medicine, and the ache from her hangover faded into a distant throb.
She critically examined her face, peering at her delicate cheekbones and her pert, upturned nose. No marks there. Upon closer examination, she found a small bruise along the angle of her jaw. A hiss escaped her lips as she pinned her hair and felt a much larger bruise along the back side of her skull.
Tally fished out a fresh pair of jeans and a top from a nearby drawer before she emerged from the bedroom. Drake looked up from where he peered at one of the wall galleries as she did so. She cleared her throat and spoke without the alcohol-soaked drawl from last night.
“My past on display, isn’t it?”
“It’s interesting stuff. A lot of it’s over my head.” Drake admitted. “Hope I’m not overstaying my welcome. After that fall you took, I wanted to make sure you hadn’t broken anything that would need a medtech to glue back together.”
“I appreciate it. Really, more than you know.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not. Look, I know I can be a complete jerk when I get drunk. What I’m trying to say is...” Tally’s voice petered out and then stopped. She sighed in resignation, and disappeared back into the bedroom for a second.
She came out with a stack of credits in her hand, strode over to Captain Drake, and pressed the money into his palm. “Perhaps that can make up for my behavior. If you want a larger sum, I can arrange it.”
Drake felt something more akin to amusement and not a little pity. But it was only for a moment. The realization hit him: that he was with a woman who was too proud, stubborn, or just plain awkward to say ‘sorry’ in any way but giving money to make up for her mistakes.
Wordlessly, he peeled the topmost note off of the stack, pocketed it, and gave the rest back to her.
Tally frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“That bill I took? It’s what I used to pay for cab fare here.”
“You know what I mean, Drake! Why not just keep the rest?”
The Captain looked out the nearby window for a moment. Sunlight glinted on the water.
“Because I want you to understand how I operate. You’re a little too used to dealing quid pro quo for everything. But some things, you shouldn’t try to buy.”
Tally closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing what he said. “Fine. I’m a quick learner, I get it. And I do admire people who have a sense of duty, honor, and all of that. But with you military types, it’s an obsession. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain Drake?”
“Guilty as charged. Plus, you can call me ‘Benjamin’.”
“Benjamin it is,” she agreed, with a little smile. She tossed her head in the direction of the kitchen. “I still want to know what you were doing at that bar, ready to fish me out of the drink. You have time for breakfast?”
“I’ll make time,” Drake said gratefully. He hadn’t eaten since early last evening.
With that, Tally disappeared into the kitchen. Drake seated himself at the dining room table as the automatic servers on the table poured two tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. Tally emerged from the kitchen and set out plates of sausage patties, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast with the deft movements of an experienced hostess. They ate together in silence for a few moments. Drake made appreciative sounds as he bit into the sausage links.
“Thought you’d like that,” Tally said, indicating the meat. “Pork sausage with fresh fennel. Salvage recipe.”
“Salvage recipe?” Drake asked between bites.
“One of the fringe benefits of being a treasure hunter. You usually unearth old records dealing with literature, government, and finances which don’t mean a damn anymore. But I stumbled upon an old country cookbook on one of my salvage missions. Let me tell you, those people knew how to eat.”
“I won’t argue with that.” Drake gulped down the rest of his glass of juice. They finished the rest of their meal without speaking, enjoying the food and the golden silence of the morning. Tally pushed her plate aside when she finished. She drew up her legs, hugged her knees, and beamed an impish smile at her guest. Drake knew that the old Tally of Tallyho, Incorporated, was back in business.
“So tell me, Benjamin Drake, why did you come looking for me last night?”
“A couple of reasons.” He pushed his glass under the table’s dispenser and got a second glass of juice. “For starters, I wanted to find out who might want to sack your expedition.”
She shook her head. “Damn near anyone with enough greed and the credits to buy a spaceship. Are you familiar with any kind of salvage law? Marine? Deep space?”
A shrug. “That sort of thing doesn’t come up in my line of work very often.”
“All space-borne salvage law really says is ‘finders keepers, losers weepers’. And even that is subject to some pretty wide interpretation.”
“Meaning?”
“Possession isn’t just nine-tenths of the law, it’s the whole enchilada. If you want to find something, you’d better be first. But if you want to claim it? You better be able to hold on to it. That’s why I needed backup. This find was too public to hide. So, given how much I thought it was worth, there’s more than a few people who wouldn’t mind if I walked into someone’s laser sights.”
Drake turned her words over in his mind. “I guess that explains your ‘hiring’ us.”
“Look, Benjamin…” Tally glanced down at her hands as she continued to speak. “I knew, strictly speaking, it wasn’t one hundred percent legal. Then again, very little of what I do is.”
“So how much did you shell out to Fleet Commander Ruger?”
She looked up at him. “How did you know?”
“Last night, you referred to someone as a ‘double-crossing son of a bitch’ and said that I ought to make him ‘eat his gold bars’. In all the branches of the Terran military, a fleet commander is the only rank that gets to wear more than a single gold bar.”
“Well…you’re spot on.”
“You were wrong about the first part, though,” Drake added. “Ruger’s not a ‘son of a bitch’. He’s more correctly classified as an asshole.”
Tally burst into peals of laughter. “Yep, I’d agree with you, he’s of that species.” She sobered up after a bit and continued, “As for what I had to pay him...I’m not sure you want to know. It was a hell of a lot less than I expected. Almost as if he wanted to send you into the line of fire.”
“I’m not surprised. As to the reason…Ruger and I go back a long way. Let’s just say that there’s no love lost between us.”
Tally sat up. Another piece of the puzzle had come together for her. It took her only a moment to decide to take a chance with Benjamin Drake. She liked any man who could make her laugh, but Drake just felt right. She could trust him.
“Captain Drake, I need to share some more information with you,” she stated.
Tally’s use of his rank made Drake raise his eyebrows. He sat quietly as she continued.
“This is serious business. More serious than petty bribery. Can you set aside your scruples for a moment to talk about it? If not, we can finish our breakfast and be done with each other.”
Drake gave her an appraising look. “If it involves t
he safety of my ship or crew, I’m willing to bend the rules.”
“It does.”
Drake took a sip from his glass and nodded curtly.
“Don’t take this wrong,” Tally began, “but I thought that one of your crew had been sleeping on the job. That they’d let us fall into an ambush.”
“Trust me, no one was asleep,” Drake responded. “We had no idea that ship was out there. The dust and metals in the Kuiper Belt usually limit what we can see. But the Terran Home Guard maintains a system-wide sensor net, and we were hooked into it.”
Tally nodded, confirming her thoughts. “This should be news to you, then. I had to shell out a fair bit of coin, but I got access to the sensor net’s records. Specifically, for the time right before we were attacked.”
“You bribed someone to give you a confidential military file?” He made a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding about this being serious. That’s hard jail time.”
“Are you going to scold me, or would you like to know what I found?” He made a ‘go ahead’ gesture, and she continued. “The sensor grid spotted the ships that attacked us. But the information wasn’t transmitted to you. It wasn’t a mechanical error. Someone deliberately hid the data.”
Drake stood. The chair made a scrape across the tiled floor. His hands clenched into fists.
“Wait, Benjamin! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to have a little chat with my commanding officer,” Drake gritted. “If he’s still in any shape to stand trial afterwards, so much the better.”
Tally shook her head. “Don’t do it.”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“Why?”
“What can we take him to trial on? My information came from illegal sources. Even if the justice system admitted the evidence, they’d lock me up right after they prosecuted Ruger.”
That stopped him. “I just can’t let…”
“Benjamin, I trusted you with that information. Because I believed that you’d keep it quiet.”
He slammed a fist down. The table shuddered with the force of the blow.
Treasure of the Silver Star Page 4
