Empire: Assignment Darklanding Book 12

by Scott Moon

  “You have a death wish,” Thad said, not asking a question but stating a fact.

  “We’re all going to die. Might as well be today.”

  “Just hold on while I muchly consider this,” Thad said, aiming the blaster with both hands now and hoping his deputy took the hint.

  “You’re not going to shoot me? What are you, a coward? I did my research. You know how to kill a man, so do it.”

  Mast crept up behind Proletan and smashed him over the head with a blaster, knocking him to the ground.

  “He is muchly unconscious is what I am thinking,” Mast said. “Did I do that correctly? Your signal was bigly vague.”

  Thad holstered his blaster, then handcuffed the most deadly man in the galaxy. “I probably should have shot you when I had the chance.”

  “You did the right thing,” Mast said.

  “Thanks. Let’s pay Dickles’s debt and get these two locked up.”

  Thaddeus identified the next highest ranking ShadEcon officer on scene and brokered the payment between P. C. Dickles and the criminal organization. Once he had proof they accepted the A99 as complete payment and that his friend was free and clear of all debt, he went to the personnel train he'd requisitioned as a prisoner transport and climbed aboard.

  “Thanks, Thad. I owe you one,” Dickles said when it was over.

  “Don’t worry about it. ShadEcon has always been a pain in the ass. I’m glad to stick it to them. We’ll just pretend you didn’t pay them with SagCon property.”

  Color drained from the miner’s face.

  “I assume the Company Man will overlook it, so long as you find more. Soon.”

  Before long, Thaddeus and his crack law enforcement team was rushing through Transport Canyon on a monorail constructed during the boom. Unlike the old system, these cars had wide windows and perfect climate control. They also moved at one hundred and thirty kilometers per hour, cutting the length of the trip in half.

  He had intended to sleep once his prisoners were handcuffed back to back, but sunset prompted him to kick back in one of the lounge chairs and enjoy the view of water spreading through the lowest parts of the terrain like a biblical flood. “Mast, what did we do?”

  “It would have happened sooner or later I am thinking. Perhaps the effect would have been more gradual,” Mast said.

  Muddy lakes and turbulent rivers covered thousands of acres.

  Curtis Sharn started laughing. “You better hope the monorails don’t go under. You think SagCon is going bankrupt now? Wait until they can’t move exotics even if they manage to dig them out of the mess you made.”

  “I didn’t cause this,” Thad said.

  “You kind of did.” Sharn’s laugh grew into a maniacal tantrum. Thad resisted the urge to thump him unconscious.

  ***

  Thad sat at his desk in the Cornelius Vandersun Correctional Facility and Rehab Center eating an instant meal. His sole guest watched him from behind titanium bars.

  “How long are you going to keep me here?” Proletan asked.

  “Until I’m sure you’re not going to kill me. Had to let your boss go. My case against you is stronger,” Thad said.

  “Mister Sharn’s lawyers are better than that. I should already be released on bond.”

  Thad spooned the last of the rice-like substance from the plastic bowl. “True, but I told them to go to hell.”

  “Why throw away your career with an illegal detention?” Proletan asked.

  “First of all, your detention is completely legal. I have probable cause—specific, articulable evidence a specific person—you—committed a specific crime—” He pointed at his bruised face. “—in a specific time and place within my jurisdiction.”

  “The ShadEcon lawyers will argue the mines are not within your jurisdiction.”

  “I have jurisdiction over my face and anyone punching it. Call it a felony occurring in my presence. I have an obligation to take action no matter where I am.”

  “Your contact with Sharn and myself was improper. All evidence and testimony that follows will be considered fruit of the poisonous tree and will be suppressed.”

  Thad shook his head. “Good luck with that.”

  Proletan moved on, undeterred by Thad’s rapid-fire answers. “You implied there was a second thing.”

  “I don’t think you want to go with them.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  Thaddeus thought he did. “You don’t respect the people you work for.”

  No response.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Thad asked.

  “It is a bit of a gray area. My contract requires me to make my best attempt at assassination and no more. ShadEcon has to pay me more if they want me to try again.”

  “They can’t just shock you until you do what they want?”

  “They’d need a new shock collar, and no.”

  “Why not? They’re criminals. Following the rules and honoring contracts isn’t what criminals are known for. What do they have to fear from a contract?” Thad asked.

  “Retribution. My contract also makes a promise. If violated, I will hunt them to the ends of the galaxy. All of them. Their families. Friends. All their pets.”

  “I get it.”

  “Not even ShadEcon can afford to pay me twice for one kill. This has never come up because my best effort has always meant the death of the target.”

  Thad tossed his trash into the compactor. “I don’t know what to do with you. Can’t trust you no matter how much I think I understand your real motives.”

  “I live to kill beautifully.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Proletan laughed. “You’re as direct as they say.”

  “Thanks. Now give me the truth, man to man.”

  “I have to be the best. In my opinion, being the best at killing means I need fear nothing.”

  “Sure, but you’re still going to die.” Thad had meant the words as a joke. He’d expected to share a moment of soldierly camaraderie with the man. Instead, he watched their budding friendship die as Proletan went to his cot and laid down, facing the wall.

  CHAPTER THREE: Dixie’s Delight

  Slipping away from the Mother Lode was easier and easier. Her absence had conditioned her girls to be more independent. She knew it was ridiculous when she paused at the door, looked back, and was sad no one seemed to be watching her.

  She'd long known how to capture the attention of men, and most women, with a flash of skin and a hair toss. Now she was learning to push them away, remain unseen, be invisible to her enemies or adversaries.

  The saloon was crowded, though few people could afford to buy as many drinks as they wanted. She thought of it as the Darklanding grind—men and women sitting at tables nursing one drink for as long as possible before giving up and going home.

  Music played loudly. There was a lot of smoke in the air despite a lack of people smoking. One or two men in the corner seemed responsible for all the pollution tonight. She was accustomed to such things. Her entire adult life had been spent in places like this.

  It'd been a long time since she was a lonely orphan fighting for survival.

  The streets of Darklanding were another matter. She wasn't sure how or why, but tonight felt more sinister, which made her grudgingly appreciate the small radio phone Sledge had given her.

  “What good will this do me?” she’d asked him after one of their more successful dates.

  That had hurt the big man’s feelings. He was awfully sensitive for a massive tower of testosterone. Having the radio was nice, but she doubted she would use it because by the time she needed him that badly, she wouldn’t be able to wait for him to come running, or walking, or whatever the big guy did when rescuing cute little damsels like Dixie.

  The men standing on their corners near their warming fires knew her and would not harass her. They didn't want to be on her shit-list. Getting banned from the Mother Lode was possibly the worst fate imaginable in Darklanding. Nevertheless, she
didn't feel safe.

  The town looked ten years older than it was. Cheaply-paved roads and rows of temporary structures hadn't aged well. There hadn't been sufficient street lighting in the first place and half of it didn't work now. Shadows moved where they shouldn't.

  She walked briskly, rarely looking back but aware of her surroundings nevertheless. A woman walking alone at night, constantly glancing over her shoulder, looked suspicious. It also showed weakness. It was a good way to attract predators.

  Instead, she used reflections in windows to check for followers. She casually glanced down streets whenever she turned a corner. She'd been attacked and beaten, and worse things, many times before she rose to her current position.

  She'd come a long way. Now she was ready to take the next step, ready to rise to a higher level. The desperation of her youth made her who she was today. She never relied on one solution to a problem. She was the madam of the Mother Lode but also had ten side hustles in progress. That was a lesson she'd learned well. Never put all your eggs in one basket.

  She wouldn't tell the woman she was meeting tonight about her other business ventures. If this spymaster could deliver what she was offering, Dixie wouldn't need the other hustles, but she'd keep them all the same.

  The shadow woman waited near a vacant lot meant to be a park someday. There were trees and shrubbery, but nothing arranged by a landscape artist. Everything was wild and shaggy. Two-story temporary buildings and warehouses surrounded the someday-park.

  Dixie saw the hooded woman. Her disguise needed work. The signs of wealth and influence were obvious to Dixie. No matter how dirty or unkempt this woman's clothing was, underneath, she was a person of privilege. She slouched, but it was a fake slouch. She acted afraid, but clearly wasn't.

  The ominous threat of the Darklanding streets had also receded, probably because the mystery woman had a security detail that had locked down the area.

  Dixie went along with the charade.

  "You came alone, good," the woman said.

  "Did I?"

  The woman paused, raising a hand to one ear and ducking her face into her hood. She was probably communicating with her security team, ordering them to check the area again.

  Dixie interrupted her. "I completed my mission. What else do I have to do to prove myself?"

  Irritated, the woman cut her secretive conversation short. Now she was off balance, glaring at Dixie with resentment. This was a clue. If the woman still wanted to do the deal, then Dixie had the advantage. She had something they wanted.

  "Do not presume too much," the woman said. "You're talented. Your performance clearly demonstrates that much. But you are not the only one we've recruited."

  Dixie crossed her arms and waited.

  "There is much you don't know," the woman said.

  Dixie almost recognized the voice.

  "Your mission on Melborn was satisfactory. You have proved you can keep a secret and that you're surprisingly adept at gathering human intel," the woman said. "You've shown you can run a brothel, which is a surprisingly unique skill."

  "So do I have the job or not?" Dixie asked, using a low-class accent as she planted one fist on her hip.

  "Don't play the simpleton role with me. You might be from the streets, but you're far more sophisticated than you want everyone to believe," the woman said.

  "Maybe this is the real me. You have a problem with that, you with a silver spoon in your mouth?" Dixie asked.

  The woman bristled but didn't take the bait. "We are expanding our operation in the Wilok System. We need a master of spies, and my collaborators agree you are a good choice. But first, I need your report on the Melborn mission."

  Dixie told the story using the terminology and parameters that had been set by her controller. Certain things she could talk about directly. Other things had to be mentioned only with codewords and ciphers.

  She'd flown coach, haggling over prices even though she wasn't paying for the trip. She flirted with security guards at checkpoints, made a scene at a restaurant when her order was wrong, and presented herself as low-class and loud-mouthed every chance she got.

  She kept it real. She hid in plain sight. With her hair and breasts, there wasn't any other way to do it.

  This drove her handler crazy. Which allowed her to slip free of the leash and do what they sent her to do. Once she was on her own, she became invisible and flew under the radar—no easy task for someone as gorgeous as she was.

  Seducing Armand Soler had been easy. They spent a week on a tropical island drinking too much, having great sex—for him—and sharing secrets. Half of his pillow talk was worthless, but she learned even more than she shared with her shady employers.

  Things were changing in the galaxy, and would be changing even more in the Wilok System. A side benefit of her secret mission was that she now had inside information on several large projects very few people knew anything about. She thought she should talk with Shaunte, maybe team up, but decided against it.

  They'd never been great friends.

  When Dixie was done explaining what she had done and why she had done it, the hooded woman remained silent for several moments. Dixie resisted the urge to add to her story. That would look unprofessional. It would also reveal how nervous she was, despite what she told herself to the contrary.

  "Your report is colorful, and as accurate as required. You did realize we were monitoring your progress?"

  "As best you could. I'm sure your agents were thorough. Any inconsistencies between their report and mine should be attributed to their limitations," Dixie said.

  "Such arrogance. Do you think you’re better than my people without having any training? I hire men and women who have served in special forces or been raised to be spies from early childhood," the woman said.

  Dixie didn't answer.

  "Regardless of how I feel about your attitude, you have the skills to do what we need and have proven yourself. Consider yourself our master of spies in the Wilok System," the woman said.

  "Are you going to tell me who I'm working for?"

  "That won't be necessary. You will be contacted by your new handler. The challenge phrase is peanut butter pizza. The response is chalk."

  "That's it?"

  "Simple is best," the mystery woman said.

  "Of course," Dixie said. She started to leave, but stopped. "There is one more thing."

  "Is there? I'm not sure you understand who is in charge. There is only one more thing if I say so.”

  Dixie pressed the issue. “I have additional assets to offer."

  "Not interested," the woman said, looking Dixie up and down.

  "Not that. You’d have to pay me extra for that. I haven’t dipped into the lady pond for years. I’m talking about work for my girls."

  "I'm even less interested in pillow talk from a bunch of whores.”

  Dixie crossed her arms. “Fine, then I won't tell you which of your security staff have already been compromised by my girls."

  "You have my attention."

  "Come closer, so I can whisper in your ear. One of them is with you right now."

  The negotiations changed after Dixie proved her point. The woman agreed to train six candidates Dixie selected. This would provide them new lives, new identities, and a comprehensive education beyond what was needed for spying.

  She was more than satisfied with the result, but suspicious that the mysterious woman acquiesced. There was a good chance she had been lowballed.

  “Anything else?” the woman asked sarcastically.

  "Actually, there is. The Mother Lode won't work for what I have in mind. I'll need someplace with a little more class, like my own starship or a space station. Someplace where I can control access. What would happen if someone had a dangerous secret and I needed to hold onto them? On my own station, I could simply lock them down until your security goons arrive take custody."

  The woman laughed uncontrollably.

  Which was all Dixie needed to recog
nize who she was. She'd seen this woman on Melborn. The name eluded her, but she would figure it out.

  "I'll take it under advisement." The woman left. Several shadows separated from their hiding places to follow her. Most walked like humans and carried guns, but one might have been Maximus if it were larger.

  CHAPTER FOUR: Dixie’s Espionage

  Judy Ortega couldn't wait to get out of the stinking rags she'd worn to her last meeting. She wanted off this planet and away from all these rugged, arrogant as hell frontier types. Her own starship? What the hell was that?

  "Give me an update, Carter," she said as she marched into the apartment building Interstellar Enterprises maintained on Darklanding. It was a boring, prefabricated structure like everything else in this town. The efforts her advance team had made to furnish it with the latest styles only emphasized its shabby nature.

  Carter was young for his position. Quiet and unassuming, he nevertheless commanded the respect of the men and women he led. He was fit, extremely intelligent, and loyal.

  "My snipers confirmed she came and left alone. I assigned Remi and Johnson to follow her. They're wondering if she's drunk or something because she's wandering all over the place. I told them she's probably trying to lose a tail," Carter said.

  Ortega stepped onto the lift and waited for Carter and two of his men to join her. They rode up in silence. She stepped off the moment the door opened and strode into her spacious if generic apartment. Carter followed. His men posted by the door.

  She stripped out of the disguise and stepped into the shower. Carter stood by the sink, waiting patiently.

  "What did you think of Miss Dixie?"

  "I don't think you like her," Carter said.

  "She's not as smart or as attractive as she thinks she is."

  "She was able to draw Armand Soler out of hiding," Carter said.

  Ortega soaped up and rinsed off. "And how do you think she did that?"

  "Her charming smile?"