by Scott Moon
“Who’s there?”
No response.
“Everyone knows I carry a blaster in my bag. Go away.” She waited but heard nothing. Feeling foolish, she hurried toward her destination.
Judy Ortega stood apart from her security detail—tough men and women in military-grade combat gear and reflective eyewear. Thad had told her the glasses concealed night vision optics, infrared sensors, and other technology. Shaunte wasn’t surprised. Ortega had been the target of corporate assassination attempts in the past.
The shadows Shaunte had believed imaginary until now hesitated at the sight of the mercenaries, then retreated. “I’m not sure how relieved I should be,” she said under her breath.
“I’m sorry, Miss Plastes. Did you say something?”
Shaunte smiled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’m jumping at shadows tonight. Darklanding is a strange place until you get used to it.”
“Agreed. Someone, or something, has been watching us since we arrived. I put Carter, my head security officer, on it. So far, he’s come up empty. No counter-surveillance detected. No human or Unglok-sized heat signatures moving this late at night. Animals. Apparently, you have a sizable rat problem.”
“They’re not rats, Mrs. Ortega,” the only man standing near her said.
“I heard you the first time. Give us a moment, please,” Ortega said.
Carter took one step back and stood like a statue.
“I’m here,” Shaunte said. “I’ve followed your protocol, despite my misgivings. Let’s do this.”
“You remind me of the young woman I was. Ready and willing. A real take-charge girl out to change the galaxy,” Ortega said. “Working with you will be a pleasure. Shall we begin?”
“Right here, in a vacant lot surrounded by creepy shadows?”
Ortega laughed. “Yes. Carter and his people have swept it for surveillance devices.”
“What about people? Devices are easy to detect with technology. Spies are sneakier.”
“Very good, Shaunte. And yes, we have that covered.”
Shaunte crossed her arms and waited for the woman to make the next move.
“I wasn’t going to bring your father in…”
Shaunte’s face flushed with anger. She’d told him what she wanted him to know and secured the help she needed from him and nothing more. The last thing she wanted was this woman’s interference with her very complicated parental relationship. But more important in the current moment was that Judy Ortega believed Shaunte didn’t want her father to have a piece of the pie.
“Don’t worry,” Ortega said. “His involvement will come during stage two. We will need a real military presence in this sector once the economy takes off. There will be enough for everyone.”
“My father already has enough of everything.”
“True, but we will need TerroCom. Once this takes off, there will be people wanting to steal it from us.”
“Fine. It’s time for details. You’ve been vague. I’m only willing to go so far on promises, no matter how incredible they are.”
Ortega smiled and leaned close, lowering her voice. “One of my agents has confirmed, and this information is literally less than an hour old, the significant presence of A99 on Ungwilook.”
Shaunte lost her composure for a heartbeat.
“That’s right. No survey crew ever suspected its existence here. Normally, it can’t be found where there are other exotic ores, especially A19. But I’ve had it tested. We have A99 right here, right now. We have the galaxy by the balls,” Ortega said.
Shaunte saw unprofessional greed in the woman’s eyes for the first time. “So what about the capital development plan and trading coalitions we discussed?”
“Yes, of course. We’ll do all the things. A99 will make it better. Interstellar Enterprises will be building starships in the Wilok System, which means wealth to rival Melborn. Our reach just increased a thousand-fold. Build the ships here, then send them out farther than anyone has ever traveled,” Ortega said.
“I thought this was about Ungwilook,” Shaunte said.
“It is, it is. You will be in charge of the planet. Big promotion for you.”
“I already run the planet for SagCon.”
“You handle Darklanding and the mines. There is much more to the planet than that.” Ortega stood straighter and pushed her hair back over one ear, seemingly tired from her burst of excitement. “Let’s talk about what needs to happen to Ungwilook and its people before we begin.”
CHAPTER TWO: Waterway
Stars exploded in Thad’s vision. Air left his lungs as he landed flat on his back under Proletan’s weight.
The ShadEcon enforcer’s face was a roadmap of scar tissue. Something was wrong with his fierce eyes. Thad guessed they were surgically enhanced and sheathed in state-of-the-art contact lenses. He’d heard rumors there were eyeball sleeves that could resist a knife slash. Each sensation hit his brain in a fraction of a second. He wasn’t taking time to evaluate what he saw.
“You can't beat me,” Proletan snarled, pinning Thad’s neck to the ground with both hands as he pressed one knee into Thad’s gut.
Thad shoved him back, twisted free of the knee, and rolled away. It wasn’t a pretty escape, all brute force and desperation, but it worked.
Proletan stood, body relaxed despite the deadly heat in his eyes. He flicked the hood back into place. Shadows covered his scars. “I am more than a fighter, Thaddeus Fry. Call me an intelligent enforcer, despite what this looks like.” He motioned to his large, muscular body.
Thad struggled to catch his breath. “Good for you. Let’s call it a draw.”
“No. That isn’t possible.” Proletan moved so that Sharn was directly behind him. “You can’t put a bullet back in a gun once it’s fired.”
Thad realized what the man was doing—he wanted Thad to see something without seeming to see it. What was it about Curtis Sharn that concerned Proletan? Why did he want Thad to see it?
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“I am not.”
Thad launched a kick at Proletan’s torso, but the man retreated a step, just far enough to cause a miss and not a wasted centimeter farther.
“You can’t win. But I can. My employers allow me to play with my victims. They like it. Gets them off. Makes them feel like big men,” Proletan said.
Thad glanced past Proletan and saw Sharn’s hateful expression.
Proletan launched a thrust-punch.
Thad blocked it but the force knocked him off his feet. He scrambled back until he had room to stand. Dust filled the air around them, a change from the wet environment at the bottom of the mineshaft.
“You disappoint me. Why can’t you see it?”
It was like Proletan didn’t want to kill Thad. In fact, it seemed like he was looking for help.
Thad attacked with a flurry of haymaker punches which Proletan blocked easily, giving ground in a calculated manner. He’d done this hundreds if not thousands of time.
“Just…let me catch my breath.” Thad put his hands on his knees and spat between his feet.
“You don’t need to catch your breath. Your conditioning is very good. I will, however, allow you to stall for a moment,” Proletan said.
Thad didn’t want to look at Sharn again. That might give away the game he was playing with Proletan. With no revelation in sight and time running out, he peeked around the enforcer at Sharn.
The small man held something in his hand. When the fight didn’t continue, he pushed a button on the device angrily.
Muscles in Proletan’s neck and face twitched with electric shock.
“Where’d they put the pain box, your spine?” Thad asked, spitting between words to maintain the illusion he was trying to catch his breath.
“The location doesn’t matter. I only wanted you to know I have no desire to kill you,” Proletan said, then rushed forward.
Thaddeus scrambled backward, acutely aware of his error. This man didn't
want or need help, but was fulfilling some psychological need to speak of honor before doing the dishonorable.
A left jab hit Thaddeus on the jaw like a sledgehammer. A right hook followed immediately, slamming him off his feet. He knew he should stay down, but that wasn't how he had been trained. His instincts were hardwired to get up as quickly as possible.
He stood and put up his hands defensively. Proletan kicked him in the stomach, folding him in half. The next strike was a hammer-fist to the back of Thaddeus's neck.
Trying to slip away from the attacks, he felt more blows than he could see. His opponent was a master of hand-to-hand combat. Something told Thad that he wouldn't fare any better in a blaster duel. He wanted to counterattack, wanted to do something to at least show he wasn't a total punk. That was his pride speaking, and he knew it was a mistake.
He might get one chance. Waiting for it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
Dickles and his miners gathered around Sharn and the other ShadEcon men and women. They shouted curses and shook their fists. Sharn yelled an order and pointed at the growing crowd. His goons drew weapons as they formed a firing line to keep people back.
Thaddeus focused on his adversary, trying to ignore how badly he was losing. The only other person who mattered was the man holding the controls.
Enraged at the growing size of the crowd, Sharn hammered the subcutaneous shock collar that restrained or motivated Proletan.
Proletan flinched.
Thad struck with everything he had, knocking the big man down. Without hesitation, he jumped on the man, raining down fists and elbows with every ounce of strength. When that wasn’t enough, he got angry—fighting like a berserker.
The two men rolled across the asphalt as the fight continued. Sharn was forced to step out of the way.
Thad shoved himself away from Proletan and tackled Sharn, twisting the shock device from the man’s hand. None of the bodyguards saw this because they were facing the crowd, not the fight.
“Enough! Kill him! Now!” Sharn shouted.
Thad faced Sharn and pressed the button, holding it until the master warrior turned ShadEcon enforcer behind him crumpled to his knees. He wanted to look back at Proletan but knew he needed to deal with the ShadEcon agent first.
“Give that to me,” Sharn sneered.
Thad leveled him with one punch, then handcuffed him while he was struggling for consciousness. He drew his blaster and aimed it at Proletan.
What happened next surprised him.
Proletan regained his feet, shook off the pain that had so recently twisted every fiber of his body, and glared at Thad with murderous intensity. “We’re not done.” He marched forward.
“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 ki
ll. 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.
