Chains of Freedom

by Selina Rosen

  Whitey gave up on her temporarily.

  "What?" he sighed.

  "Oh nothing. It's just that I've had such a pleasant evening, and now I'm going to have to kill those men," RJ said coolly.

  "What ya want here, stranger?" the lead bully-boy asked.

  "To live a quiet life," the stranger was obviously scared, but trying not to show it.

  They laughed at him.

  "Live a quiet life," the lead bully laughed. "In Alsterase?" He kicked at the man's stool.

  "Leave him be," RJ ordered.

  "Keep your woman out of this, Baldor. We got no beef with you," he said, turning toward Whitey. He wasn't afraid. The three of them could take Baldor, and he saw nothing to fear in either the woman or the midget.

  Whitey laughed. "Zero, no one owns this woman. You'll see why if you persist in starting trouble."

  "The name is Zant." Losing interest in the stranger, Zant motioned to his buddies, and they moved toward the table where the three were sitting. "I don't mind kicking your ass, Baldor, or screwing your woman while you're unconscious. So why don't you just stay out of this?"

  "It's a shame that a man who is such a prick doesn't have any balls," RJ said coolly. She didn't move. Not even so much as to take her boots off the table.

  One of Zant's boys got antsy waiting for the fight to start and pulled his knife.

  Mickey swung his arm out from inside his jacket, and fired the laser he clutched in a white knuckled fist.

  The man fell dead.

  RJ moved quickly. She jumped up, taking the midget with her.

  Whitey overturned the table, throwing it with a growl.

  The other customers either fled, ducked into safe spots, or donned protective headgear.

  RJ dumped Mickey on the floor, and he ran to hide behind the bar. As far as he was concerned, he had done his part.

  Zant and his pals were joined by two more who had stayed in the background until then.

  RJ looked at Whitey, and smiled. "Well, at least it's a fair fight now."

  "Shall we?" Whitey asked, bowing slightly and motioning RJ forward.

  "You first, dear," she offered with equal politeness.

  "I'll use you, you smug bitch," Zant promised.

  "You'll have to get it up first," RJ chided.

  The fight was on. Zant drew a knife and ran towards RJ. She simply grabbed the wrist that held the knife as it came at her. She pulled the arm out of its socket, then slung Zant into the floor, face-first before he had time to scream. Then she stomped on the back of his neck, successfully putting him—and everyone else—out of his misery. One of the other men grabbed her around the throat with his forearm. She slung him over her shoulder and looked up in time to see another thug getting ready to hit Whitey in the head with a table.

  Whitey was occupied at that moment with throttling a man against the far wall.

  "Whitey!" She screamed the warning as the man she'd just thrown down got shakily to his feet.

  Whitey let go of his man and turned, drawing his sword. He plunged it through the tabletop into the man's chest, and pulled it out in less time than it takes to tell it. The man with the table staggered and paused, but didn't fall. Whitey immediately returned to his interrupted labors.

  As RJ's slightly dazed opponent pounced on her again, she hit him in the chest hard enough to stop his heart. He gasped once and hit the floor at her feet.

  The man with the table was still staggering. Whitey took a finger and pushed on the tabletop. Man and table both went down.

  "Whitey, grab them and let's go," she pointed to the pilot who was hiding with Mickey behind the bar.

  Whitey grabbed the man by the collar and unceremoniously pulled him to his feet.

  "Come on, Mickey," Whitey ordered.

  Mickey ran to RJ, and she put him on her shoulder. They left the bar, Whitey pulling the discharged captain along by his collar.

  "Ah, thanks a lot," he stammered. "Sorry I didn't help, but I'm not really much of a fighter."

  "Pilots usually aren't, Captain Levits," RJ said simply.

  "How . . ."

  RJ held up his wallet.

  He slapped his pocket. "Why, you . . . !" He reached for it, and she jerked it out of his reach. "Why did you stop them from beating me up? So that you could take my wallet?"

  "I don't want your money." RJ tossed the wallet in his general direction.

  "What then?" Levits asked while deftly plucking the wallet from the air. Nothing wrong with his coordination, at least.

  "You're a pilot. You're a coward, but you were an Elite. So, in spite of what you say, you know how to fight. My friends and I are going to overthrow the Reliance, " RJ explained.

  "Good luck," Levits laughed in disbelief.

  "Did I say something funny, Whitey?" she asked him in an ominous tone.

  "Not at all, dear," Whitey said, tightening his grip on Levits' collar just a bit.

  "I don't like to be laughed at, Mr. Levits. Call it a weakness, a flaw. I have absolutely no sense of humor where that is concerned." She stopped and folded her hands behind her back.

  Mickey quickly repositioned himself.

  "Now, either you want to help us, or you don't. It's that simple."

  Suddenly, the sight of the woman standing there calmly with a midget climbing all over her like she was a tree didn't look funny. Not funny at all.

  "And if I say no, you kill me," Levits said.

  "That is the Reliance's way, not ours. We don't want anyone with us who doesn't want to be here. We are fighting tyranny, Mr. Levits. I won't fight it with more of the same."

  She motioned for Whitey to release him.

  "Take some time, Mr. Levits. Think about it. If you have come to Alsterase, it's because you have nowhere else to go. Alsterase is a hard place, especially if one is 'not much of a fighter.' It's not the sort of place to be friendless, and it's not easy to make friends here." She tapped his cheek sharply.

  "Come on, boys, let's go."

  Levits watched them leave. He shook his head and laughed—quietly. "Fight the Reliance! She must be mad." He laughed louder. "Crazy bitch."

  He looked down the long dark street. A cool breeze blew, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him. He set his mouth in a firm line. He didn't need anyone, and he certainly wasn't going to join her in her suicide rebellion.

  David looked for some instructions in the leather pouch. It would be nice to know something about dosage, but several minutes of search turned up nothing. He put one into his hand. If one would do it, another would be better. He popped another into his hand. He was about to take the pills when he heard the door open.

  "RJ?" he asked.

  "Ax murderer," she answered. Mickey jumped down and retired to his mattress.

  "That was only funny the first fifty times you did it, RJ," David replied testily. He was in no mood to deal with her questionable sense of humor right then. He walked out of the bathroom and held out his hand.

  "How many of these do I take?"

  RJ looked at them in panic. "Where did you get those?" she demanded.

  For answer, he held up the leather pouch. Whitey saw the pouch. He'd seen them before; he knew what they were. Moreover, he knew what it meant.

  RJ was across the room in a heartbeat. She grabbed the pills from David's hand and flung them down the toilet.

  "Wash your hands, wash your hands!" she ordered.

  When he didn't move, she pulled him into the bathroom and forced him to the sink. She turned on the faucet.

  "Wash your hands." There was no denying her tone.

  "What the hell is going on?" David asked, as he began washing.

  "Those are poison, David. Lethal poison," she said.

  "But I saw you take them," David said as he scrubbed even harder.

  That confirmed it. Whitey had no doubts left. He didn't know how she came to be, but she was, and he knew what she was. Surprisingly, it didn't change the way he felt about her. One thing was for sure. S
he hadn't lied. She wasn't David's lover. Somehow knowing what she was made him feel better. Now at least he knew the reason she wouldn't sleep with him.

  "I saw you take them," David said again as he scrubbed at his hands.

  Whitey laughed. "Now, she would have to have an amazing constitution to do that. That's Pronuses."

  "What the hell is Pronuses?" David demanded.

  "It's a lethal drug." He looked at RJ in admiration and shook his head. "Only you could get hold of a freak kit."

  She looked at him expressionlessly. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. He prayed he could block her as easily as she seemed to block him.

  "My God, my hand's blistering!" David exclaimed.

  "It's all right," RJ said, handing him a towel.

  "Don't tell me it's fucking all right! I damn near get myself killed over a goddamned headache, and you say it's all right?" David wasn't feeling overly understanding at the moment. "Why are you carrying around lethal poison anyway?"

  "It's a weapon." She shrugged. "You never know when you might want to poison someone. It's a lot more subtle than shooting, clubbing or stabbing. If you work it right, you don't even have to be there when they die."

  David was more persistent than Whitey deemed to be safe at this moment. But then, he had two things up on David. First, he was relatively sure he knew why she had them, and second, he hadn't nearly eaten the damned things. For once, Whitey sympathized with David's reaction.

  "I saw you take them," David persisted.

  Whitey just laughed, as if he thought David were the world's biggest fool and flopped down on the bed.

  RJ sighed in exasperation. "I had some pain pills; they're gone now. Want me to run out and get you some?"

  "No thanks," David turned to the bed to lie down, but Whitey was lying in the big middle of it.

  "Do you mind?" he asked sarcastically.

  "Well, actually, I do, but . . ." Whitey got up. David lay down. "You know, David, someday I'll be staying and you'll be going."

  "In your wet dreams," RJ said, not without a smile. "Good night, Whitey."

  "Ah, but Mom, it's early yet," Whitey whined, then ducked out the door. "Good night, my love!" He waved flamboyantly, and was gone.

  RJ sighed and started to unwrap the chain. It had been a long damn day.

  "David, I'm really sorry about the Pronuses."

  "I feel very, very lucky. Another second, and I would have eaten the damn things. Next time you're going to carry poison around, you might at least tell me." David was still sore. He wasn't really mad at RJ, it was just this damn headache. "I think Whitey is serious about you," he said in the best bantering tone he could muster.

  "The only thing Whitey Baldor is interested in is getting a piece of ass," she said, although she knew it wasn't quite true.

  "If all wanted was piece of ass, wouldn't hang round." This piece of wisdom from Mickey, whom RJ had believed to be asleep.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" RJ asked indignantly.

  "I think what he means is that if all the man wanted was a piece of ass, he could get that anywhere. Believe me, it's easy. If that's all he wanted, why on earth would he continuously hit on the only woman in all of Alsterase who actually has the word 'no' in her vocabulary?"

  "Because I'm a challenge, I guess," RJ snorted and dismissed the subject. She finished undressing and went to bed. After several moments of trying to achieve a comfortable position, she decided it was impossible and gave up. She looked at the ceiling. Then she looked at David. Wonder where you were. Idiot! You know where he was. Off with some slut making the beast with two backs. An angry scowl crossed her face, and she resumed looking at the ceiling. I don't care. I could have anyone I wanted. She started counting cracks in the ceiling. I wonder if she was good-looking . . . Well of course she was, David's too shallow to even look at a woman for any other reason. She frowned. I wonder if she was any good? She looked at David again. He couldn't sleep either; he was frowning. RJ smiled and looked back at the ceiling. I'm guessing that means no. Good. I would be amazing, because, after all, I'm good at everything . . . Provided of course that I didn't crush my lover during orgasm. Damn, now look what I've done . . . I'm depressed and horny.

  She sighed and looked over to see that David was asleep. She had half a mind to wake him up. That's right, you bastard, sleep. God knows you get laid plenty. Hell, I don't even think you realize that I'm a girl most of the time. All the guys I used to shower with in the service . . . they used to get boners in spite of all the saltpeter the Reliance put in everything.

  David rolled over—so he wasn't asleep. What was more, from the look on his face, the headache was getting worse. Good! I don't care if I am being illogical and petty. When you're as old as I am and you still haven't gotten laid, you're allowed to be illogical and petty.

  She tried not to think about David with other women, because for some reason the thought was very distressing to her. Of course, the more she tried not to think about it, the more she did. And the more she thought about it, the madder she got.

  Just then, David was unwise enough to speak to her.

  "RJ?"

  It took her several seconds to suppress the urge to scream interesting things at him, like, You miserable whoremongering, womanizing little piece of shit!

  "Ugh." That was the only sound RJ could make when she was biting her tongue.

  "Are you awake?" he asked.

  "Ugh," RJ said again.

  "Is that a yes or a no?" David asked with a laugh.

  "That's a maybe," RJ said, trying to keep the angry tone from her voice.

  "What's RJ stand for?" he asked.

  RJ muttered a few choice curses.

  "Ah, come on, RJ."

  "Let it lie, David. Even if I told you, it wouldn't mean a damn thing to you. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't stand for anything. My name is RJ. It's just something to call me instead of 'hey you!' Who cares what it means or what it stands for? Your questions will be the death of us all."

  Chapter Eight

  It had been a long and tiring drive across half of the country. The truck had suffered multiple breakdowns, and they'd been stopped several times by the Reliance cops. Sometimes they could bluff their way out. But when they couldn't, there was always RJ's special way of dealing with people who became annoying.

  Now, it was just him and RJ. Getting ready to face God-only-knew what, armed only with blasters and a cock-and-bull story. David didn't really understand why they were here or why what they were doing was important. RJ said do this, do that, she explained what to do and how to act, but what she had never explained was why.

  "I don't know. It doesn't seem right waiting for them . . . tricking them like this," David said.

  "Right shmight," RJ said, checking to make sure her uniform was straight. "You wanted to do something that everyone would notice, and this can't go unnoticed, David. After today, they're going to know we mean business. Don't get squeamish on me." She straightened her uniform yet again.

  "I don't know why you're bothering so much with looking just right when you refuse to take that damned chain off," David said, then added in an exasperated tone. "Reliance cops don't wear chains around their waists."

  "I'm not a cop. I'm a freedom fighter," RJ said with mock fervor, hands on hips, chin up staring into the distance.

  "It's not funny, RJ," David said in disgust.

  "Chill out, will you? I only have to look like a cop for a few minutes. It just so happens that I'm not worried about my disguise. I just want to look my very best when I assassinate a governor. I've never done that before, you know."

  "You're sick, RJ. I swear, sometimes I think you're really as warped as you make out to be." He gave RJ a contemptuous look.

  She just grinned."What can I say, David?" She shrugged and the grin left her face. "I am what the Reliance made me, and I love my work."

  Jack Bristol was the governor in charge of military affairs for the area that was known by the Relian
ce as Zone 2-A. As such, he lived and traveled in luxury with an armed escort.

  Four first-class soldiers armed with swords and riding motorbikes surrounded his armor-plated limo. He shared the limo with four laser-carrying Elites. And the driver, who was a second-class soldier, was carrying a projectile weapon. Because of this—and because Jack Bristol had never seen real combat in his life—the governor felt as safe as if he were in his mother's womb.