by Scott Moon
"Don't ever change, Carter. Your youthful innocence is refreshing," she said sarcastically as she stepped out and toweled off. "I no longer have access to Proletan at will. The ShadEcon fiasco ruined that. I will have to renegotiate to get him back on retainer, which means he’ll be more expensive and harder to control. You'll have to take care of her."
He nodded, handing her a second towel before she asked for it. "Who'd she say was compromised on my team?"
"Wilson and Bobby," Ortega answered.
"They're both women."
"You're normally very thorough, Carter. But that was a mistake. Don't assume your female operators won't go to a brothel."
"It won't happen again."
Ortega dropped the towel and walked into the guest room that she was pretending was a decent closet. She selected a silk robe and put it on. "Take care of Dixie tonight. No mistakes."
“I thought she succeeded on Melborn?” Carter asked casually. He didn’t seem to care. Ortega accepted that he asked questions. His analytical nature was one of the reasons she kept him so close.
“No one can know what happened to Armand Soler. She drew him out of hiding, now she’s a liability. If she had proved more respectful—more of a team player like you—I’d have used her to run her little house of pillow secrets. Greed is a good thing; it makes people easy to manipulate. This woman, however, thinks she can blackmail me.”
“She never threatened to…”
Ortega spun toward him, fist clenched in anger. “I know her. She thinks she’s better than me!”
***
Kenneth Carter followed his routine, making sure each member of his team had checked in their gear and filed their reports. He didn't have time for his own shower, but he washed his face and armpits in the sink before donning a fresh jumpsuit, checking his weapons, and heading out into the night.
He touched his ear to toggle his comm system. "Talk to me, Remi."
"She circled back to the meeting place and seems to be searching for clues," Remi's voice scratched over the radio.
"Good, I'm almost there. Once I get eyes on her, you two can head in and get some rest."
"We'll stay with you, boss. There's some weird shit out here. I hate alien planets. Promise me we're going back to Melborn after this one," Remi said. "Johnson swears he saw a spider as big as his head."
"I'll keep that in mind. We're officially done for the night. Go in. I just want to have a look for a minute."
"Boss…"
He stepped to the corner of the someday-park and saw Dixie shining a light on the ground, probably counting footprints—gathering human intel on her enemies, like size, activity, location, unit, time, equipment…
Or maybe she’d lost a contact lens.
He smiled. The woman was an enigma, interesting for all of her idiosyncrasies and hidden talents.
"I have eyes on her. Get back to the apartment and get some sleep, that's an order," he said.
Remi and Johnson acknowledged. He waited until he was sure they were gone. By the time he was able to line up a shot, Dixie was sitting on a bench with weeds growing through it. He stared at her through the scope of his precision blaster.
She stood, adjusted her bra, and wiggled her hips to reposition her g-string, he imagined. Before he knew what was happening, she was on her way out of the park. He followed at a distance.
Stalking her would've been easy with Remi and Johnson bounding ahead on side streets to set up observation points, but he didn't want them involved in what had to happen. They were right, however, she was all over the place. Once, she climbed a fire escape, crossed to another building, and descended to the street.
He wondered if she was just trying to flash him. She had done that a lot when he had surveilled her in the Mother Lode. Covert surveillance had never been his favorite part of the job, but it was better in a place with lots of half-naked women.
During the next hour of cat and mouse, he had multiple chances to shoot her but talked himself out of it—there were possible witnesses, the wind wasn’t right, something was watching him and giving him goosebumps. All excuses.
He hated this part of the job, but no job was fun all the time. She was just a woman he didn't know who had pissed off his boss. The only problem was that his boss was wrong, Dixie was attractive, in a high mileage, bad girl way. He could imagine what she had looked like when she was his age. That made it harder, even though it shouldn't.
In the light of predawn, she arrived at a building he’d never seen before and he knew his mission had just changed.
A sliver of pink sunlight peeked over the Darklanding skyline. Carter was surprised at how diverse and interesting the view was. The town was made up of prefabricated buildings, but there were cranes, clusters of radio antennas and satellite dishes, and one section that appeared to be Unglok structures. He turned in a circle to observe as much of the town as possible.
This was something he did often, part of his situational awareness. It was how a young officer kept his people alive in combat.
The building Dixie entered was long, low, and hot. Carter moved closer and could feel the comparative humidity of the place. He smiled and shook his head, remembering details from his mission preparation research. The woman had a new greenhouse.
***
The man following Dixie was cute, if a bit young for her tastes. Leading him to the greenhouse was a calculated risk. She’d worried he would immediately call for backup and surround the place, not knowing what it was. She’d also been concerned he might follow her inside—attack her and worse.
His boy scout charm could be an act. In her experience, all men wanted the same thing. The only variance was how they got it. Sometimes these lily-white choirboys were the worst. But she didn't think so. This kid, Carter she thought his name was, seemed so genuine and competent that she wanted to steal him from Ortega, as she recalled the name, and give him a job. Doing what, she didn't know.
It was late. The streets of Darklanding were so quiet she could hear electricity powering the streetlights. All she could think about was her meeting with the woman. Had it gone well? Had it gone poorly? Was she losing her touch?
She was always suspicious when she got what she wanted without a fight. There were two possible reasons the woman had been such a pushover. One, Dixie hadn't asked for enough. Perhaps she underestimated her value to their spy organization. Two, the woman agreed to everything without much negotiation because she never intended to pay up.
She continued to walk, keeping her eye on the young security officer and her mind on the puzzle of her current situation. Was she ready to risk everything? Should she be concerned for just herself or should she try to bring some of her girls with her? Life was simpler when all she had to worry about was her own survival.
Leaving the greenhouse behind, she cut across town toward the rendezvous point she had planned. It was a long stretch and she had time to think and daydream. She imagined her girls strutting down a wide corridor in her private starship. A good-looking captain with broad shoulders who spoke like a gentleman told her they had arrived above Melborn.
The captain's executive officer, an extraordinarily hot young woman who was intimidated by Dixie's even better looks, complained that there were hundreds of people requesting access to Dixie's Delight. "It seems like everyone who's anyone wants to visit the ship."
Dixie smiled knowingly, staring at the planet on the viewscreen.
"Miss Dixie, may I see you in my state room?" the captain asked in his deep voice. His tone, normally gentlemanly, implied she was in trouble. She wondered if he would spank her like last time.
"Dixie!" Sledge whispered harshly from the shadows of an alleyway. "I called your name three times. He's not that far behind you, you need to focus. Or turn on the radio I gave you!”
“I have a data phone. Your radio thingy is so frontier-ish,” she said as she looked around, realizing she was near the Mother Lode. Sledge’s rough face contrasted so dramatically with her daydream that she s
queaked in shock. Recovering her composure was like stepping into a cold shower.
She nodded slightly to indicate she understood, then continued forward, using her hips slightly more than was necessary to walk effectively. She reached up and plumped her hair with both hands, swaying her body dreamily as she moved. When she dropped her thick, blonde hair down her back, she imagined Ortega's young security officer had to be staring at her in undeniable lust.
“Really?" Sledge said. "Settle down. Are you trying to look like a runway model or a pornstar?”
Dixie shrugged.
***
Carter realized too late he should've trusted his instincts. The way Dixie had paused should have been a huge red flag. She'd been lollygagging along, only half paying attention to her environment, which was a bit unusual compared to how she’d behaved the first half of the evening. Then, something had grabbed her attention.
He'd written off the hesitation as her being startled by one of the scurrying sounds common on this planet at night. He was irritated his research hadn't prepared him for the nightmare quality of this place. A formless malevolence seemed to grow in the air night after night.
He wasn't afraid of rats, but he doubted the local variety were as tame as the long-tailed mammals he'd sometimes seen on transport ships. Something was watching him. He fought to control the sensation, aware the trauma from the extended combat missions he had endured as a young recruit often made him paranoid and suspicious. He’d been too young and too green to be thrown into the hell of his first war. That hadn’t stopped generals who’d never been to the front from feeding the machine with idealists.
His worst scars were emotional. That was the reason he kept on top of everything, kept himself squared away, and remained in control. There were no monsters in the closet, and if there were, he was ready for them.
Few people he'd met could sneak past his sixth sense for danger. It was his crap luck that tonight he met one of them—a man he’d encountered before.
Michael “Sledge” Hammer didn't charge at him, or yell, or use explosive stun grenades. One moment, Carter was following Dixie, and the next, Sledge had one hand on Carter's gun-hand, and the other wrapped around his neck from behind.
"I'd tell you not to make a sound, but it wouldn't matter. Kind of lonely out here. No one would hear you," Sledge said, his voice deep and menacing.
Dixie came back, crossing her arms and standing to face Carter. “You’re making the man's face red,” she purred. “His eyes are watering.”
A truncated airway was preventing him from resisting or shouting for help. Sledge had about a hundred pounds of muscle on him and years of experience.
"What do you think you're doing?" Carter managed to grunt.
"I'm not the one following a helpless young lady at night," she said. "Your boss is going to have to trust me if we're going to work together."
He hesitated.
Dixie saw something she didn't like in that moment. "Your boss never intended to make me her master of spies on Darklanding, did she?"
He didn't answer, only giving her a stubborn, red-faced look.
Sledge shook him. "She asked you a question."
"I do security. Whether or not she hires you or doesn't hire you means nothing to me. I was sent to follow and see where you went, find out what secrets you're hiding," Carter said.
"I don't like these games," Dixie said. "Why send me to Melborn if that wasn't going to prove I'm trustworthy?"
"We needed to draw Armand Soler out of seclusion. We needed him to vote on a proposal," Carter said.
"You better loosen that chokehold, Sledge. His eyes are about to pop out," Dixie said.
"Soler voted, but that'll be his last vote. He's dead," Sledge said. "Stepped in front of a subway train, which is odd for someone who never went near a subway in his life."
"You can't possibly know that," Carter said.
"I was a SagCon special investigator. I have connections." Sledge released the chokehold, spun Carter around, then pushed him toward the wall and stood to block his escape. "You look quick, Carter. Real light on your feet, I bet. Maybe you're thinking of making a break for it. Don't make me chase you."
"It doesn't matter. My team is on the way. You're good, but not that good," Carter said. "Seven against one will stack the odds in my favor."
Sledge pretended to wait, looking right and left with exaggerated concern. Abruptly, he dropped the charade. "It doesn't seem like your team is going to show…because you came alone, which was probably your first and last mistake as Ortega's hitman."
"I'm not a hitman."
"Correction, you're not a good hitman. If I thought you knew what you were doing, I would've killed you two blocks ago." Sledge looked at Dixie. "What are we going to do with him?"
"I think I'll turn him into a double agent," Dixie said.
Sledge shook his head. "That won't work. We've met before. He's too much of a straight arrow to maintain that type of deception. That's probably why Ortega keeps him close. He's not a good liar. Normally does what he is told.”
"He's also not fond of being talked about like he's not present," Carter said.
Dixie waved her fingertips airily. “Let him go. He’s cute.”
Sledge gripped Carter’s collar with his left hand, pulling his right back as though ready to punch him. “Whatever. He saw the greenhouse.”
“Sledge, try not to kill the nice young security officer,” Dixie said sweetly. “He won’t be telling anyone we’re only days away from a new batch of tigi for the Ungloks and a few months from some decent whiskey for the humans. And if he did, that would only drive up the price.”
Sledge shoved him against the wall again and stepped back, eyes locked on him, chest rising and falling like a man who not only wanted a fight, but needed to fight soon. His inner bear was on full display. A normal man, civilian or military, would be looking for a place to run.
Carter smiled and glanced at his feet. "That won't stay secret for long. The building is too big and it's right in the middle of Darklanding. But what you really don't want me to do is tell Ortega you know Armand Soler was assassinated."
Dixie's expression turned to ice. She stepped closer to Carter and jabbed her finger into his chest. "That is something I won't forget. You people used me to kill a man."
Sledge growled a command. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to put slip-cuffs on you.”
“You can’t arrest me.”
“Citizen’s arrest.”
“Let him go,” Dixie said.
“Nope. I’m not taking chances where your safety is concerned. He needs a few days to cool his heels at Thad’s fancy new jail.”
Carter didn’t move.
“Be smart, kid. You’ve got nothing to prove. I know you’re tough. Fight me, and someone is going to get hurt for no reason.”
***
Tiberius pressed the talk button. "Shaunte, call me as soon as you get this."
He sat in his office twiddling his thumbs with the lights dimmed. After about five minutes, he broke down and lit a cigar. And if he was going to smoke a cigar, a glass of whiskey was in order.
He walked to the picture window looking over Melborn. The city lights were as different from Darklanding as a single credit chip was from a billion-dollar investment portfolio. He knew how long it took for a communication to reach Darklanding and didn't expect a quick reply. That didn't keep him from worrying about his daughter.
Holding his whiskey in one hand and the cigar in the other, he exhaled toward the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm going to say this… I wish I was in Darklanding!"
The meetings he had scheduled on Melborn were important and couldn't be canceled. Why the hell had Soler been slumming in the subway tunnels? His idiotic death, probably a suicide or worse, had sent the entire financial structure of Melborn into a tailspin. He’d voted on something that was intended to be repealed days later, then died before that could happen.
Now all the empires were coming down.
Tiberius Plastes and a few other of the power elite had fires to put out. On the upside, that meant opportunity. On the downside, it meant corporation-crushing risk.
The call from the SagCon stockholder’s committee had been urgent, putting him between a rock and a hard place. Now he was a long ways away and his daughter was in danger. He should've never left her in the same system with Ortega. The woman was probably the best businessperson he'd ever met, a strategic thinker beyond equal. But her hobby was espionage and she wasn't as good at it as she'd come to believe.
That made her dangerous. The woman used crude, violent methods when her schemes failed to come to fruition.
He took a large swallow of whiskey, rolling it over the back of his throat to savor the burn. "Shaunte, answer your phone. I don't want to leave a message like this."
He stalked back and forth, snarling at animal carcasses he'd acquired on safari on dozens of worlds. The mantle above his office fireplace was covered with awards and pictures with important people. His desk cost as much as a small starship. He stood in front of it, unwilling to walk around and sit in his chair. What kind of man would he be if he sat down when his daughter was about to make a mistake that could, at the very least, ruin her career, and possibly get her killed?
The phone remained silent. The whiskey continued to burn. Smoke from his cigar twisted its way toward the ceiling.
The light on his phone blinked—incoming call. He slammed down the whiskey glass and lunged for the receive button. “Shaunte!”
“Father? Are you all right?”
“Yes! I am. Why didn't you answer my call?"
"I did, Father. From the middle of a dead sleep, no less. I didn't think you were the type to make drunken, poorly thought out phone calls in the middle of the night." Her voice had that peculiar sound of a long-distance call.
"I'm not drunk, not yet. We need to talk about your new friend. This is an open line so let's keep it brief and vague."
"Fine."
Now that he had her on the line, he wasn't sure how to tell her what had to be done. She had changed a lot since taking over the Darklanding project. If he tried to push her, she'd push back. This call might've been a bad idea. He started to worry it would have the opposite effect of what he hoped it would.
