by Cara Bristol
I’m at the meeting place. You got a reply from Maridelle. Come as soon as you can. Important!
-Andrea
“What does it say?” Torg asked.
“Andrea says I received a message from Maridelle, my attorney—my defender on Terra,” I amended, unsure if he knew what a lawyer was. Dakonians settled disputes with fist fights and banishment, not legal wrangling. “She says I should go to the meeting place as soon as possible.”
“If there’s nothing else…” the messenger said.
“Tell Andrea I’ll be there—”
“In the morning,” Torg cut in. “I have to be here for the muta, otherwise I would take you now.”
“I can go by myself. I can find the way.”
“No. I’ll take you.” He motioned to the messenger. “Relay to Groman’s mate that Starrconner will meet her in the morning.” He dismissed the messenger.
The man left.
“Andrea said it was important!” I protested.
“Do you think it’s so urgent it can’t wait a little longer?” he asked.
I’d instructed Maridelle not to proceed with the appeal, but what if it had already been granted? Or been denied? The latter was more likely. Since I’d decided to stay, there was nothing I would do in the former case, and nothing I could do in the latter one. But still. If only Andrea had told me what Maridelle had said!
I sighed. “I guess it can wait—and now I can attend the muta.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?” This muta thing could change his life, our lives, and I couldn’t be there?
“I want you to remain here.”
“There aren’t spectators?”
“There are, but having you watch would distract me. I need to focus on Bork.”
I didn’t like being banned, but I understood his reasoning. He’d be fighting with a handicap and would need all his concentration. “All right. I’ll stay here.”
“Good. Thank you.” Torg kissed me and then leaned his forehead against mine. “We will talk more, settle this unpleasantness, and then we will couple.”
“That sounds like a good plan.” I caressed one of his horns.
He growled and captured my hand. “You tease me.”
“Only because I love you. You’re my mate.”
“You’re my mate.” His eyes darkened. “I love you, too.
* * * *
Torg left, and I paced the cave. He’d insisted he could handle Bork, but I worried. I should be at the muta, but I didn’t want to do anything to cause him to lose the fight. He needed to keep his head in the game—or the muta, as it were. I didn’t wish him to think I didn’t have faith in him, but what if he lost the challenge and control of his tribe? He would be devastated. He derived pride and honor from his position, and he was a fair, progressive leader. The stupid tribe needed him!
Worse, what if Bork physically hurt him? It would take more than a few magic herbs to heal him. He was already injured and would be fighting with a handicap. The muta was the dumbest idea I’d heard of since the Terran-Dakon Exchange Program. Thanks to Andrea’s foresight, Dakon would have a hospital, but it wouldn’t come to fruition soon enough to help Torg. We needed medical equipment and supplies stat! Andrea and I would push development in the right direction, but it would take time to bring the planet up to the present day.
I hated this! Torg had banned me from the muta—and I couldn’t go see Andrea.
I unrolled and reread her note. Come as soon as you can. Important. It had to refer to the appeal. What else could it be? Truth? I wanted to clear my name! What had happened to me wasn’t fair. My government had asked for my help. I gave it, and when I ran into trouble, they deserted me. Torg wouldn’t surrender the tribe to a disgruntled member, and I didn’t like giving up, either. I resented how my government had blackened my reputation—even if no one had known my name before the unfortunate judicial encounter.
I swung my arms as I stalked back and forth in the cave. In reality, a retrial wasn’t an option I could pursue. The judicial process could take months—in addition to the time required to get to Earth. I would hate to be separated from Torg that long, and he couldn’t accompany me. If he left, somebody would stage a coup, and he’d lose his tribe.
A retrial offered only a second chance, not a guarantee of acquittal. If the conviction was upheld, I could end up in prison again. I couldn’t count on the government sending me back. So I had to stay put.
Unless…the retrial could be conducted via vid-con with me in absentia? Hmm…Dakon had the link up. Trials were mostly electronic anyway. Only the defense and prosecution were required to appear in person; the judge and jury were beamed in holographically. They could beam me in, couldn’t they? I’d agree to a vid trial—it was a no-lose scenario. If I won, my name got cleared; if I lost, I’d be safe on Dakon. All things being equal, I’d prefer to not have my name footnoted in the annals of history with the tag “murderer.”
What if Maridelle needed a quick response from me to make that happen? Maybe she had a limited window of opportunity to set the process in motion.
If Andrea recommended I contact Maridelle ASAP, I should. She was as sharp as a laser pistol. Perceptive. I trusted her and Tessa. We three had bonded, and they’d become like sisters to me.
I shouldn’t have acquiesced to Torg’s request. I nibbled a fingernail. I could find my way to the meeting place. There was plenty of time to hike there and back by dark. Torg would be furious, and I should avoid upsetting him so soon after our first argument and the muta, but I had to go with my gut, and my gut said go.
Torg was being overprotective by insisting on escorting me. The meeting place was free of booby traps. Andrea and Groman would be there, and probably Tessa and Loka, too, so I wouldn’t be alone.
But I couldn’t just disappear. Torg would worry.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Darq halted in the main room and pulled on his kel. He got to watch the muta! Well, I had other things to do, like clear my name. I’d been wronged, terribly wronged, and now I could make it right.
A solution to my problem took shape. “Um, yeah, you could do me a favor. Hang on a sec.”
I grabbed Torg’s pack and pulled out three sheets of parchment. “Torg was going to teach me your language. Would you write a few phrases for me so I can practice while everyone is gone?”
“Sure. What do you want me to write?”
“Let me think…um…okay, how about how about ‘I need to tan some kel hide.’”
Darq scrawled some incomprehensible symbols on the paper and handed it to me. I set it aside and handed him a fresh sheet. I soothed my guilt over wasting such a precious commodity with the rationalization Andrea and I could add paper to the shipment. I’d have her do that right after I found out what Maridelle wanted. Earth people rarely used paper, but Andrea would be able to scare up some. “Write, ‘it’s very cold outside,’” I directed Darq.
He scratched the quill across the sheet. The sentence didn’t look any different from the other one. When I tried to learn the language for real, it would be a challenge. I placed the weather report with the other sheet.
“Last one. ‘I went to the meeting place.’” Would Darq catch on? My heart thumped. If he got an inkling of what I was up to, he’d rat me out in an instant.
He dipped the quill into the ink.
I released my breath silently.
“Thank you.” I set the sheet separate from the others so I wouldn’t get them mixed up.
“You’re welcome. If that’s all, I’ll be off. The muta will start soon.” He headed toward the exit.
“Darq?”
He looked at me.
“Torg will be okay, won’t he? I couldn’t stand it if something happened to him.” Doubts about the wisdom of sneaking away assailed me. Torg, the stubborn man, needed me. He might think he was invincible, but he wasn’t.
Darq smiled. “Don’t worry. Torg will come home with a few bruises, but he’ll be fine. It will be ove
r soon.” He waved and left.
I waited for his footsteps to recede. As I turned from the table, I caught the leg, and it teetered. Ink pot, quill, and parchment started to slide. I grabbed for the notes Darq had written, but they, along with everything else, landed on the floor. Ink spilled into the dirt.
No, no, no. I snatched up the dirtied, smudged parchments. Which sheet was the right one?
Did the ink look a little fresher on this one? That had to be it, and if it wasn’t, there was nothing I could do about it.
I sprinted to our private chamber, placed the note on our bed, and shoved the other two parchment sheets underneath the hides. I would practice writing those sentences—at a later date.
I needed to hurry. The sooner I got there, the sooner I could get back to Torg. If I went now, he wouldn’t have to go in the morning—and I had a strong feeling he wouldn’t be up to it. How much could a man take?
I pulled on my kel and crept out the back way so Torg and Darq wouldn’t see me.
* * * *
Please still be here. Please still be here. I hop-ran across the snow to the lodge and charged inside. “I’m here!”
Andrea, seated in front of the computer, spun around. Grim anxiety furrowed her brow. “Thank goodness. The messenger said you weren’t coming until tomorrow. Where’s Torg?”
“At camp. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. What did Maridelle say? Is it about the appeal?”
Her eyes bugged out a little. “You came alone?”
“I know the way.”
She pressed a hand to her throat. “You need to read Maridelle’s message.” Her fingers flew over the screen. “Here.”
I peered over her shoulder.
Dear Starr,
Thank the gods, I heard from you. The SS Australia is returning to Dakon to pick you up. You are in grave danger. The Carmichaels ordered a hit. The Terran Organized Crime Unit believes they placed an assassin aboard the ship.
An assassin? On the ship? There was a hit on me? My knees buckled. I could almost feel the red eye of the laser rifle beading on my skull. There was more to Maridelle’s message, but two words overshadowed the rest. Hit. Assassin.
A lot has happened since you left. With the information you provided to the TOCU, they arrested the underbosses and Jaxon’s brother, Rogerio. He also was indicted for Jaxon’s murder. Forensics restored deleted vid footage from Jaxon’s office. The vid showed Rogerio entering the office after you and killing Jaxon. They were fighting over control of the organization. Your conviction has been set aside, and your name has been cleared.
There was a hit on me?
As I said, the ship has been ordered back to Dakon. The TOCU will take you into protective custody. I’m so sorry. Try to stay safe until it arrives. Please check in often to let me know you’re okay.
Maridelle.
I blinked at the screen, reread the message, and read it again. A hit. Assassin aboard. My name had been cleared. How little that mattered in light of my imminent death.
If sending me billions of miles away to an alien planet couldn’t save me, what the hell could protective custody do? What a joke. The Carmichaels intended to kill me.
“Starr, are you okay? Starr?” Andrea’s voice drifted in from a long way off.
My joints and limbs seemed to be connected by loose rubber bands. It was amazing I could manage to stand upright. Even more astounding, I was still alive. Why hadn’t they killed me yet? What were they waiting for?
“Why didn’t you tell me what was in her message?” I croaked.
“I should have. I realized that as soon as the messenger left. But I panicked. I didn’t know how to tell you! How could I write that in a note? It never occurred to me you would come alone. I thought for sure Torg would accompany you. I really screwed up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Nothing Andrea or anybody did could make a difference now. I would hit the snow deader than dead before Torg could grab a bow. I was a walking target. The Carmichael hit men were sharpshooters with the most advanced weapons available.
Andrea touched my elbow. “Are you all right?”
My mouth and head fuzzed. “Y-yeah.” No. Of course, I wasn’t all right! Focus, Starr, focus. Focus and you might get to live another nanosecond.
“I’m as stunned as you are.” Doubtful. Her concern was genuine, but her life wasn’t threatened—not unless she stood too close to me, and not even then, because Carmichael hit men never missed a shot. Why wasn’t I dead yet?
“After I saw the message, while I waited for you to arrive,” Andrea continued, “I kept hammering at my brain, trying to come up with a suspect. I reviewed the ship manifests and logs. The passenger manifest listed fifty women and ten crew members for a total of sixty persons. However, the ship’s housekeeping robo maintained sixty-one cabins.”
“An extra person? The assassin?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“Why didn’t he kill me on board? Not that I’m complaining, you understand.”
“No getaway. He had nowhere to escape to as long as we were on the ship. He would have to eliminate all the witnesses and that meant the crew, too—and then how would he get back?”
“So he got off the ship with us and has been lying in wait for the right moment.”
Andrea looked solemn. “That would be my guess.”
“But where would he have gone? He couldn’t pass himself off as a female. Not for long, anyway.” I flung out an arm. “How could he survive the cold? What would he do for food? How would he get home?”
“Starr…he has everything he needs right here. The emergency huts. The larder. He’s probably been holed up here the entire time. My guess is he plans to hitch a ride home on the next ship.”
“And you let me come here?” I squeaked.
“I didn’t think about that until after I’d sent the messenger. But, I think it’s safe now. When Loka’s men swept the compound for traps, they checked all the buildings. They probably scared off the assassin.”
Two simultaneous thoughts invaded my brain: Carmichael hit men didn’t scare off, and now we had two assassins running around. One born and raised on Dakon and one imported. Of the two, I feared the latter the most. I’d rushed over here, practically delivered myself right into the assassin’s hands. Between my shoulder blades, my skin crawled as if a red laser eye drilled into my back right now. Slowly, I pivoted to peer behind me. Nobody. The flap over the door swayed from the swirling wind. I should be barricaded in a fortress in which only I knew the entry pass codes, and instead, I was on a planet that didn’t have doors on its huts.
“I’m so sorry,” Andrea said. “I saw Maridelle’s message and sent Loka’s guy after you. Then I dug into the ship’s records.”
“How am I going to get to camp?” I whispered, wishing I was in the cave, buried under a pile of kel hides where the bogeyman couldn’t see me. Rational thought wasn’t my strong suit right now. Torg could place guards outside the cave, but the hit man would pick them off and march right in like everyone else did.
What the hell was I going to do?
“Groman and Loka are here; they’ll take you to Torg.”
Their presence wouldn’t prevent the assassin from taking me out. I flexed my shoulders to shake off the creepy-crawly sensation.
If I returned to camp, I’d be endangering Torg’s life, Darq’s, and everyone else’s. “I need to think. To come up with a plan.”
Andrea rubbed her neck. “I wonder why they didn’t kill you back on Terra?”
“Because they kept me in isolation, away from the other inmates, and the guards dogged me every second of the day. They never took their eyes off me,” I recalled. At the time, I’d assumed they’d been there to intimidate me. Had they been charged with protecting me?
“That’s what we need to do, then. Keep you guarded until the ship gets here.” She powered down the system. It blinked and went dark. A metaphor for my near future.
The assas
sin wouldn’t let me board the vessel and fly away. Crew members had no bodyguard training. They were stewards, coordinators, navigators. If by some fluke I arrived on Terra, well, hello, there’d be more hit men lined up waiting for me.
At least here, there was only the one.
Outside this lodge, he waited for me. Stalked me. I could feel it. Every step, every move might be my last; my very existence was booby trapped like the town had been.
Booby trapped.
What if… “Andrea…maybe the hit man set those booby traps for me?”
“Why would a professional hit man bother with bows and arrows? Why not shoot you with a laser pistol?”
“Because the energy cartridges went dead from the cold,” said a familiar voice.
Tessa stood there holding an LP. “But have no worry.” She waved the laser pistol at the computer. “After Andrea got the system up, I was able to recharge them.”
“Tessa? What are you doing?” Dumb question, but my mind could not comprehend the images my eyes were seeing. Not Tessa. She was one of us. We were friends. She and Andrea were like family. Tessa? Giggly, slightly loopy, bubbly Tessa?
Pop went the bubbles. Standing before me gripping a weapon was a cold-eyed, emotionless killer.
“Why would you do this?” Andrea asked.
“Nothing personal, ladies. It’s just a job.”
Tessa would kill us both. She had to. She couldn’t off me and leave an eyewitness.
Little clues fell into place. She’d led the little tour of the town, nudging us toward the booby-trapped huts. At the apothecary, at the last minute she’d fallen back, supposedly to talk to Loka, allowing me to move forward and trigger the trip wire. She’d insisted on accompanying him when he’d gone to check the meeting place for more traps. Circumstantial evidence, but it all made sense now.
“Was anything real?” I asked. She’d seemed taken with Loka. She’d bounced with excitement when they’d left the lodge after he’d chosen her. She’d acted so happy. They often hugged. She’d comforted me after Torg had been shot—by the traps she’d set. Her emotions had been as fraudulent as her manufactured past.
The assassin smirked. “There was a Tessa Chartreuse who laundered money through her escort service, but she had a little accident en route to the SS Australia.”
