by Sara King
“Wait!” the Trader babbled. “I’m sorry. Please, I was not questioning the Emperor’s Will.” Turning quickly to his underlings, he shouted, “Load them up! Now! Stop standing around and move!”
Forty liters turned out to be a lot more than Tommy originally anticipated. Each individual milliliter was packaged in a glass tube and boxed with about two pounds of packing material. The result ended up filling Tommy’s entire cargo bay.
“What’s this stuff for?” Tommy asked once both he and the Trader were boarded and the doors locked.
The Trader gave him an odd look. “You don’t know?”
“Never seen it before,” Tommy said as he plotted the course back to Paradise. “The way you guys handle it, it would seem you found the Fountain of Life.”
“It is the drink of the gods,” the Trader replied. “If you’re normal, one taste washes away all your troubles and leaves you with a clean mind and soul. It is the secret of happiness.”
Sounds a lot like a damn weeder, Tommy thought. It was refreshing to have the conversation, though. Every other soul in this place seemed to be willfully stupid. Adjusting the controls, he said, “If you’re normal. What exactly does that mean?”
The man shrugged. “In a very small number of people…infinitely small…the drink does something else entirely. It opens up a corridor with the gods.”
“The Priestesses?”
The Trader nodded.
“Are there any Priests?”
“Of course,” the Trader replied. “But they are killed.”
Tommy’s face twisted. “Killed? Why?”
“So they do not pass the taint on to others.”
“Taint? But you just said they have a open corridor with the gods.”
“You don’t understand much, do you?”
“Nothing on this damned planet makes sense,” Tommy growled. “That’s why I’m asking.”
The Trader answered him with silence. Then, “What’s a planet?”
Frustrated, Tommy concentrated on flying. They were already encountering turbulence ahead of the storm and the gunship was getting knocked around. Tommy scanned the weather ahead and cursed.
“Buckle in.”
The wide-eyed Trader ripped his eyes away from the window. “We’re going down?”
“No, but it’s about to get pretty rough.”
And rough it was. Like flying a kite in a goddamned hurricane. Yet, through it all, Tommy could not convince the moron to strap himself in. He kept babbling something about sinking and being stuck to the ship, and he clung to the navigator’s chair with a death-grip on the armrests, staring out into the zero-visibility storm with wide eyes.
“How do you know we’re not going down?” the man babbled. “It feels like we’re going down.”
Tommy glanced at his gauges. “We’re not going down. We’re level”
“But it feels like we’re going down,” the man began hyperventilating. “You can’t see! We’re headed straight into the ocean!” He started screaming in panic. “We’re going to sink, we’re going to sink!”
Tommy closed his eyes, his neck twitching. Clouds did funny things to a person’s senses—especially clouds, turbulence, and a moving ship. Total disorientation was actually very common in even the most seasoned pilots, and at least point-one percent of atmo-flying Academy graduates died each year when, in the grips of a cloud or some other zero-visibility blackout condition, they became convinced that their instrumentation was off and began to fly in the direction they thought they should be going, instead.
…which usually ended up being headlong into a mountain. Or a skyscraper. Or, in this idiot’s case, the ocean.
Tommy calmly adjusted his nose down a bit, keeping the craft on a level plane. Beside him, the Trader was in the process of devolving to complete animal panic. His eyes were like wide little saucers as he realized Tommy had lowered the nose. Seeing that the adjustment hadn’t been enough, Tommy tipped the nose again.
“You can’t!” the man cried, reaching for Tommy’s controls.
Tommy twisted in his chair, catching the man squarely by the throat. As the wide-eyed Trader hung there, gagging, Tommy calmly said, “We are not losing altitude. We are not going to sink. You will go to your chair, sit down, and strap yourself in, or I will throw you out the back door and give you a real taste what sinking feels like.” He smiled as the man’s eyes bulged outward from the internal pressure. “Do we understand each other?”
The man couldn’t respond, but Tommy released him anyway. He spent the rest of the trip in relative peace, with the terrified Trader huddled against the far wall, babbling about drowning.
By the time they finally made landfall, the Trader was too sick to supervise the unloading of his goods. He stumbled off the ship, fell, vomited up the stuff that had somehow stayed down throughout the trip, and crawled away. Tommy himself had grown a little nauseous on the flight, but being at the wheel always eased the symptoms.
Tommy pressed open the bay doors and startled the army of Strangers that had gathered to unload it when half the contents of the bay spilled out onto the wet concrete. They let out horrifed sounds of dismay and began pulling the boxes from the rubble, re-packing those that had fallen open or were crushed in flight.
Tommy was turning to leave when his eye caught on a blue tube lying to the side of the mass of panicking Strangers. Glancing around to see if anyone had spotted it, seeing that none had, he picked it up.
The blue fluid seemed to glow in his hand, letting off its own luminescence.
Not being a fan of drugs, Tommy turned to give it back to the Strangers.
“Colonel Howlen.”
Tommy jammed his hand into his coat pocket and turned, his spine prickling.
Juno smiled at him. “Enjoy your flight? I heard that the Trader recommended you to the dockmaster, he was so grateful to be alive.”
“I’ve never heard of storms that reached up into the atmosphere,” Tommy replied. “It was quite an experience.”
“I’m so glad we found you when we did. We’re always in need of pilots on Xenith. That useless girl who was with you can barely even captain a freighting vessel. No wonder she gave up when we flew at her with Everest. It makes it hard to imagine how she got to be captain of such a fine ship.”
“Rabbit gave it to her.”
“I see.” Her face darkened. “I’ve always thought Rabbit was a bit of a fool around women.”
“So have I,” Tommy said automatically. It was one of the things they had tried to brainwash into him. Automatic disdain for any of the rest of his crew. Fortunately, he had used the same techniques in the S.O. and had known how to combat them. Hell, what he’d been taught had made her crude attempts look like unsophisticated child’s play. Then again, he figured that seven thousand years’ of advancement in the field would probably do that.
“I must say, the Emperor appreciates having you in the fleet. It was good of you to join us.”
“I always wanted to fly for the Emperor,” Tommy responded. “It’s a dream come true.”
“Is it.” Juno smiled at him. “Rabbit told me about your past, Colonel. You’re working for the same department I was, it’s just under a different name.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do.” Juno glanced at the cargo the Strangers were unloading. “One of the first things Psy-Ops taught its officers was how to resist Psy-Ops techniques from the enemy. You were never brainwashed, Colonel.”
Tommy stiffened.
“But that’s fine.” Juno smiled, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re a fine pilot. We can use more like you on Xenith when the time comes. Too bad you’ll be dead.”
Tommy’s eyes widened, but Juno held up a hand.
“I’m not killing you, Colonel. I’m simply not ready to launch my attack yet. It will be another hundred years, at least. Even with the revenues from the floater wash, our fleet isn’t big enough.”
“Then what—
”
“I just wanted to warn you. Do anything to harm the Empire and I will personally blow a hole in that young captain’s head. I’ve seen you go out of your way to check on her. Do you have a thing for younger women, Colonel?”
Tommy stiffened. “I was just seeing how she was doing.”
“And whether or not she resisted the brainwashing. Let me put your doubts to rest. She is completely and utterly under my spell. She did not even resist the processes. Deplorably impressionable, the idiot girl. It never even occurred to her she was being brainwashed.”
“She always was a spacehead,” Tommy replied.
“Yes, I can see that. And clumsy, too. If she doesn’t stop dropping crates, I’m going to have to drop her to shuttle duty.”
“She won’t like that.”
Juno smiled. “Yes she will. You know as well as I do she’ll like whatever she’s told to like.” She tapped her skull patronizingly. “She’ll even like to take a bullet in the brain, if you misbehave. “
Tommy looked away. “Don’t hurt her.”
“As wretched a pilot she is, she’s still worth her weight in gold. You, on the other hand…” She reached out and touched the front of his spacer’s coat. “You’re a fighter pilot. You’re worth a hundred of her caliber. So don’t think I won’t kill her in an instant if I see you continuing Athenais’s self-righteous little war. Understood?”
Tommy nodded. Inwardly, he was thinking that war always involved casualties. So much the better if one of them happened to be a brain-dwelling parasite.
“You sure you want to do this?” Dallas whispered, eying the young woman apprehensively. “You sure you don’t want a bigger body? She’s…petite.”
You’re petite, Stuart said. And I get along in you just fine.
“But…” Dallas swallowed. “Don’t you want a guy?”
No acceptable males have shown themselves today. Now, unless you have a better idea, I need to make the transfer. Pretty soon, she’s gonna finish delivering those crates and be on her way.
“She looks kind of sickly,” Dallas muttered. “Maybe you should wait.”
You’re due to ship out tomorrow. It’ll take you three days to deliver that cargo. More if this piece of junk breaks down on the way. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.
“But…” Dallas took a deep breath, suddenly dreading being alone. She couldn’t finish her sentence.
Don’t worry. I’ll be back.
He’d be back? Dallas straightened, finding some comfort in that. “Fine. Let’s do it.” She stalked over to the tattoed Stranger and punched her in the face.
The woman fell sideways, knocking some crates from the cart she was unloading. She was holding her nose, staring up at Dallas in horror when Dallas climbed on top of her and grabbed her by the hair.
“Stuart is very important to me,” she said, her nose inches from the woman’s face. “You take good care of him or I’ll end you, okay?”
Wide-eyed, the woman nodded.
Wow, that was subtle.
I am beyond caring about subtle. Now get out.
She probably thinks you’re a raving psychotic.
That’s what I’m going to be if anything goes wrong.
You know, I could have handled this better.
I’d rather you saved your shock for in case you get in a pickle. She slapped her hand over the woman’s mouth, still gripping her hair. Now let’s get this over with before I change my mind. She pressed her ear to the other woman’s ear and stiffened.
She felt Stuart retreat from her brain with a twinge of regret. His warm, wet body slipped through her ear canal almost delicately and then he was gone.
Beneath her, the woman’s eyes widened and she began to convulse.
“Hold still!” Dallas snapped, pressing her hand harder over the woman’s mouth as she tried to scream. The woman hit her in the chest and tried to pull her arm away, to claw at her ear, but Dallas managed to stay on top. The girl started kicking out, convulsing, screaming at Dallas’s hand, and Dallas had to fight the urge to hit her in the head a few times to quiet her.
Then the Stranger went limp.
Dallas released the woman’s mouth and backed away. “Stuart?”
The woman sat up and cocked her head to the side, allowing a thin trickle of blood to escape. Then she smiled weakly at Dallas.
“Keep something over your ear until the wound heals. My body secretes powerful antibiotic and healing agents, but the tissues are very delicate nonetheless. You should keep all foreign bodies from entering your ear canal.”
“You sound like you’re drunk. But I’ll try.”
Stuart stood up and brushed himself off. “Then I’ll see you back here in three days.”
“Okay.” Dallas turned.
“Dallas?”
She turned back quickly, hope blazing in her chest.
“Thanks, Dallas.” It sounded…final.
She deflated, her hope draining into a sick feeling in her gut. “You’re welcome,” she managed. Was he saying goodbye? Was she ever going to see him again? A nagging part of her was telling her he had put too much emphasis in it, that he was saying his farewells. After all, he could go anywhere. Why should he have to hang around on this utterly insane planet? He didn’t need her.
She watched him smile at her and turn toward the cart.
The aching loneliness was tearing at her core already, almost too much to bear. She didn’t know how she withstood it before Stuart. He’d been such a…friend. She felt her eyes begin to tear up and she turned away. Behind her, she heard Stuart’s footsteps return to the cart and the engine start. She almost called to him right then, almost begged him not to leave her behind. She gripped the crate in front of her to keep from following him, fingernails digging into the wood. She heard the engine rumble, heard the tinny sound of the wheels backing down the ramp. Moments later, he was gone.
Through tears, Dallas trudged back to the ship and began numbly packing more crates for transport.
To Claim Retribution
Athenais found herself shoved into an enclosure filled with aliens, the door slammed shut behind her.
“Uh, hello,” she said, staring out at the strange faces. “I hear you’re all shifters.”
“Athenais?” A squid-looking alien shifted into a familiar, nine-fingered man. “Is that you?”
“Hello, Paul,” she said, glancing at the others. “Where’s Morgan?”
Paul glanced up at the wall above them and Athenais followed his gaze. Sheltered from above by a lip of stone, a body swung.
“Oh,” she said.
Ragnar glanced down at the enclosure, wishing he could get a closer look without raising suspicions. He could see Paul below, standing apart from the rest. Athenais was with him. They were talking about something, looking at the stone wall below him. Ragnar tried to see what they were gazing at, but the lip of masonry prevented it.
Frustrated, Ragnar considered what to do next. Athenais had taken his place as a shifter. That’s why she had left him on the ship. Now he had to stay out of sight, do nothing that would endanger the others. What he wanted to do was slip through the halls slitting throats until he had transformed the entire island a stinking mass of corpses. If Paul was alive, that meant that his father was—
No. He refused to think it. Juno would not kill one of the oldest and most powerful L’kota ishala just to bring Ragnar back. It was unthinkable. She was just trying to scare him.
It irritated him that the best he could do was reconnaissance. It was no use trying to free the others from their cell—the entire enclosure was an expensive setup, the kind that always thwarted Beetle when they were working on a banking planet heist. The clear panels were airtight, blastproof, and completely EMP resistant. The only way to open the enclosure without spending two hours outside with a high-intensity laser was with a special passcode and genetic material.
And, while Ragnar was well-skilled in espionage, he had a sinking feeling t
hat the insane matron of this planet was just paranoid enough to see him coming.
Fighting a feeling of helplessness, Ragnar went to the other side and watched the massive black cloudbank on the horizon. A storm system. Bigger than anything he had witnessed on a land planet. If he was going to do anything, he could probably use the cover of a storm.
But what could he do?
More than anything, he needed to find the island’s central com equipment. If Athenais was here, then the rest of the crew should be close. He had to get a message out to Squirrel. She’d pick it up. She slept with her headphones on. He could broadcast his personal code and she’d recognize it for what it was even if she was half asleep and drugged.
But why was Athenais the only one here? Had she somehow gotten separated from her ship? She’d been naked. Ragnar couldn’t think of many rescue strategies that required the infiltrator to get naked.
Well, he could think of a few. But on the docks? Without even a weapon?
Maybe Athenais had been her normal, overbearing, ballsy self and had decided that a quiet, single-man strike team was the best way to rescue him and had instead gotten herself caught. After all, who did she have to take with her? Smallfoot was dead and Goat and Dune were just as likely to shoot themselves in the foot as shoot someone else. Squirrel was a pacifist, and Dallas was…well…Dallas. Aside from sitting in the captain’s chair and destroying Athenais’s Biamachi rug when she thought nobody was looking, she was pretty useless.
Ragnar was usually the one Athenais took with her on these missions. Maybe Athenais had been counting on him to help her.
Ragnar winced. Looking back, maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to shock those two. He had just automatically assumed Athenais would have help with her.
So on to Plan F. Plans A through E had turned out to be utter failures, so right now, his best bet was finding the Beetle. Fairy would love to show off with some fancy flying. If he got onboard, maybe he could get her to blast open the enclosure with a photon beam. He’d have to get a message to the shifters to get out of the way, but Squirrel should be able to handle that. Ragnar was just about to begin climbing to the top story when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Turning, Ragnar stiffened when he saw that it was a Stranger.
