by Alan Black
Numos said he would not be at the party and Stone did not expect to see Ryte, Hammermill, or Vedrian either. His unpleasant parting from the UEN left wounds too raw for the company of these…these…civilians. Most of his military friends were left behind. He wanted to be with his friends.
He did not want to be here, but he had a part to play. Now was as good a time as any to start learning how to be a spoiled rich kid. Spotting his cousin, he knew he had an excellent example right here. He watched Gonzo wave to her. She had been dancing with two girls, both dressed in little more than sequins and booty dust. At Gonzo’s wave, she stopped and stood still as two assistants rushed to her. They patted away any hint of perspiration, combed her hair, reapplied her makeup, and straightened what little clothing she wore. During their ministrations, she spoke into her personal assistant ordering this and demanding that.
Stone was amazed. She looked like she had an on and off switch. On—she was the epitome of a bubble-headed party girl. Off—she was all business. He figured he would grab a quick bite to eat and, once refreshed, he could find his own switch.
An extensive barbecue patio was set up near the lake. A small cloud of savory odors swirled around the cook fires. His mouth was watering and his stomach complained. Only a few partiers milled around the tables that were loaded with enough food to feed a company of marines. He was not surprised. Most of the women in Beffie-pie’s entourage looked underfed and far too skinny. The men and women gathered around the food tables were from his crew, many with an ex-military air about them. He headed in that direction.
He spotted Tuttle in a crowd of dancers and laughed. Skeeter and a pair of skinny roadies were competing to capture her attention. It looked like she was dancing alone despite the gaggle of groupies around her.
Jay and Peebee rushed past him. A pair of huge vegetable platters had been set up on tables by the lake. A warning sign indicated the food was reserved. In the center of the table was a short stack of golden ooze. The drascos hit the table like they had not eaten for a week, gobbling up the vegetables like a deck cleaner after errant dust bunnies. Someone on the Platinum Pebble knew how to infuse carbon dioxide into leafy greens.
Leaving his drascos to their own meal, he smiled at the men and woman around the buffet table. He did not recognize any of them, but they felt familiar all the same. The odor of mint flooded his nose, competing with the scents of the food. These were military personnel and as familiar to him as family. He wondered if the warm tight feeling in his chest was the same people felt when greeting siblings.
His UEN dishonorable discharge hurt his heart. Knowing it was fake did not mitigate the pain. Stone would have shunned anyone so disgraced, but these people all smiled at him. He was aware they knew their mission, but did they know his ruined career was phony?
“Hey, Signore Stone. Grab a plate.”
“Evening, Boss.”
“Great party, Sir. Thanks for inviting us.”
Stone’s smile widened at each greeting. He smelled their sincerity, but it was the food that made his mouth water. He did not remember how long ago he had last eaten. His stomach was complaining and the nanites in his system did not function well if he did not feed them on a regular basis.
As he reached for a plate, he was tackled from behind. Blindsiding him, his attacker rode him down, pushing him into the grass.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stone rolled, trying to break free, but his attacker had an arm lock around his neck while driving a knee into the middle of his back. He pushed up, lifting his body and the attacker off the ground. An arm swept both of his hands out from under him. Twisting to the side, he tried to shoot a leg free for leverage. A knee locked in behind his, freezing the leg in place.
He tucked his chin onto the forearm of his attacker and tensed his neck muscles. At the same time, he stiffened the fingers of his left hand and prepped his right elbow. He was about to snap his head back into for his attacker’s face and jam his right hand and left elbow into his attacker’s sides, when he heard Peebee giggling.
He had no idea who was attacking him, but if Peebee was not worried, maybe he should modify his response. Though wrapped in his attacker’s arms, he did not smell hostile intent. Rather than employ the three disabling moves he had planned, he bent at the waist, brought his knees up to his chest and curled into a ball. The forearm across his neck tightened up enough to cut off his air, but he could hold his breath for a bit.
His fingers found an ankle. He grabbed it, yanked, and pulled. The forearm across his neck slipped. Taking advantage of fresh air, he pulled harder and stood up slowly, continuing to hold the ankle. Once on his feet, he twisted, leaving his attacker dangling from his iron grip. He put his foot on the chest of Timothy Oliphant Dollish and smiled down at his friend.
“Hi, Tim.”
“Hey, Boss.” Dollish managed to grunt as he grabbed Stone’s foot braced against his chest. “I’m glad you finally came aboard.”
Stone he pushed a little harder on Dollish’s chest. “Good to see you too, Tim.”
Dollish tried kicking free with his other leg, but Stone held him tight. He quit struggling and smiled up with a look of resignation. “Um…uncle?”
Stone smiled, but continued holding the young man down. “What’re you doing here, Petty Officer Third Class Dollish?”
Dollish shook his head. “I’m not a PO3 anymore, Boss.”
“What did you do, Tim?”
“When they arrested you, I quit.”
“You what?” Still holding Dollish’s ankle, Stone kept him pinned to the deck with his foot. His legal team told him Dollish left the UEN, but hearing the young man speak bluntly was a surprise.
Unfortunately, for Dollish, Peebee wandered over to them; taking advantage of the young man’s helpless position, the drasco licked his face.
Dollish squirmed under the drasco’s ministrations, “Quit it, Peebee. I told the navy they were wrong about you and—Peebee. Stop it!—that they could just kiss my sister’s black cat’s ass.” He was laughing and trying to wiggle away from the drasco. “Peebee, enough already.”
Stone shook his head and yanked on Dollish’s leg. “How did you end up here?”
Dollish sputtered. “Eeeww! Right in the mouth! Peebee. Sorry, Boss. Make her quit.”
“No, Tim. You answer my question or I’ll have Jay come over and help.”
Dollish shouted between laughs, “Jay loves me.”
Jay started to come over but stopped when Dollish said, “She knows who makes her ooze. See?”
“Tim?”
“All right, Boss. I quit the UEN. With my training and experience, I got a certification as a personal chef. Captain Numos found me and offered me a job running the Platinum Pebble kitchens.”
Stone helped Dollish to his feet. Brushing him off, he said, “I should have known I couldn’t get rid of you that easy.”
Dollish laughed and pushed Peebee’s head away. He winced as he lost a few strips of skin, but it did not dampen his sense of humor.
Stone put an arm around Dollish. “Tim, you shouldn’t have left the UEN because of what happened to me.”
Dollish smiled. He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Boss, I joined the navy because I needed a good meal and a safe place to sleep. I was looking for something to do. I found out I liked cooking and now Captain Numos is letting me run my own kitchen. That is something the UEN wouldn’t have let me do for another twenty or thirty years, if ever. Plus, he’s paying me more than the UEN would’ve if I’d stayed in another decade. What do I need the navy for? Stone Freight Company offers me a better pension than the emperor ever did.”
“But you don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing.”
Dollish snorted and pointed at his chest. “Enlisted, remember. I never knew where we were going. Besides, Boss, I once told you that you’ve saved my life more than once, and I’m not done paying you back.”
Stone’s response was interrupted by a message
broadcast to every dataport and personal assistant at the party. It even stopped the music.
“This is Captain Numos. We are closing on the navigation point for our first of many jumps into hyperspace. I’ve transmitted the latest vidcast episode of The Bethy Stone Show back to Lazzaroni for netwide broadcast.” A cheer from Gonzo and Bethy’s entourage interrupted the captain. “Doctor Emmons, I need your reports, or they will just have to wait for a later transmission. You have thirty minutes. Numos out.” The thumping dance beat resumed.
Stone looked at Dollish. “Kat Emmons is here, too?”
Dollish looked around conspiratorially. He whispered, “The captain says I ain’t supposed to talk about who’s here and who ain’t, I mean, isn’t. But, it’s your ship, and he did just tell everybody she’s here. I mean, she isn’t at this party…I don’t think. Anyway, she said she had reports to write.”
“Her and her reports!” Stone snorted.
Dollish nodded, “She’s always writing about something or someone. She said she was interested in how well you took your dishonorable discharge. Like as not, she’ll be all over you again. Hey! Did you know she works for the Emperor’s College? And she’s writing a big report on Lieutenant—I mean, Hammer. Did you know that the Emperor’s College keeps track and writes reports on everybody in line to become the next emperor?”
Stone smiled. “I heard something about that. Hammer, huh? She once told me the reports on him were for marine command, but yes, I can see the Emperor’s College being interested in him.” He could easily picture Hammermill becoming emperor. Physically the man was marine recruiting poster perfect. He was more intelligent than most people gave marines credit for. His people fervently followed him with the next closest thing to passionate fanaticism—their loyalty to him was beyond question. Even his fellow officers recognized his charisma and had his back. “You know, Tim, that would be a good thing. Not that Emperor Garcia is going anywhere for a long time.”
Dollish grimaced, “Yeah, Boss, but you never know. We’ve lost people along the way we didn’t expect to lose either, didn’t we?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stone sat on the Platinum Pebble’s bridge. It was as large as the one on Rusty Hinges, but there were fewer control and monitor stations as civilians usually combined more functions. The ship had the standard communications console, plus the combined navigation and helm console. Unlike most private bridges, his ship had a tactical and weapons station. Theoretically, the guns were here to protect the ship against pirates. Stone could not get a straight answer from Numos about their weapons compliment, but it was evident not everything stashed in the dark corners of the ship was defensive.
His chair at the conference table was not as comfortable as the one on the Rusty Hinges’s bridge, but that chair was originally designed for an obese Hyrocanian. He wiggled slightly, settling deeper into the chair.
Doctor Emmons glanced up from her report. “Nervous, Trey?”
Stone shook his head, “No, Kat. It’s been a long voyage. Four jumps and sixteen weeks in hyperspace with nothing to do is leaving me a bit antsy. Just sitting here advising the captain about things he already knows about seems kind of…”
“Like a waste of time?” Emmons raised one eyebrow. “Would you rather be back at that perpetual party Bethy Stone is running on Echo Deck?”
“Not really. Why? Are you jealous?”
Emmons blew a raspberry at him. “Jealous? Of that skinny young thing? I don’t know how you can stand to be around her. She’s far too clingy for my tastes.”
“I mean jealous because I have a girlfriend here and you don’t.”
Emmons sputtered out a laugh. “Gracious, boy! That is why I left Whizzer back on Allie’s World. The man was getting too serious for me. You be careful with that cousin of yours. She’s not the party girl she pretends to be. I know Allie is giving you some leeway because Bethy is your cousin, but I don’t think she’s as okay with your relationship as she is pretending.”
Stone looked across the bridge at their communications tech, Tammie Ryte. “Kat, not everyone here is who they are pretending to be.” He was certain Doctor Emmons remembered Ryte from Allie’s World. They had been trapped outside together on the hostile planet for far too long to not remember. Yet, somehow during the four month transit through the gray, she had managed to avoid commenting about Ryte once again pretending to be a lowly communication tech instead of an EMIS agent.
From across the bridge, Numos shouted. “I’m not pretending. I really am the captain of this spaceship.”
Emmons shouted back. “And I’m just a simple report writer.”
Stone shrugged, “And I’m just who I appear to be.”
Emmons shook her head. “Not really. You’re partying hard, but I don’t think your heart’s in it.”
Stone said, “There just isn’t much else to do. Captain Numos hired such a crack deck crew there isn’t even any cargo handling I can do, even if we had any cargo. The ship is so new there aren’t even any bulkheads to repaint.”
Numos wandered over from his chair. “Get used to it, Signore Stone. You’re the owner. You don’t do that kind of stuff of my ship. We’ll arrive at Holliman’s Rift in a few hours. Then you can get busy checking for possible freight and setting up freight lines for your grandfather.”
Stone started to say something but clamped his mouth shut with a clash of teeth when he caught Ryte glaring at him from the communications console. Doctor Emmons did not know about their real mission. She had been briefed on the planet and its politics, but not Ryte’s undercover investigation.
Emmons, apparently ignoring or not noticing the non-verbal byplay between Ryte and Stone, changed the subject. She suggested, “We can go back to discussing your meltdown back on Lazzaroni and the resulting bout of agoraphobia?”
Stone shrugged. “We’ve kind of beat that subject to death over the last month.” It made him uncomfortable to talk about his disorder in front of the captain, Agent Ryte, and the rest of the bridge crew. They all knew about his fear of open places, it was not a secret.
Emmons laughed. “We’ve gone around in circles more than once. You say you understand why you relapsed into your old pattern, but knowing and accepting are two different things.”
Stone nodded, “Haven’t I admitted that I felt vulnerable and defenseless?”
Emmons prompted, “Vulnerable and defenseless mean the same thing. That isn’t what we need to discuss. Who put you in that position?”
Stone sighed, “Everyone.”
“And that made you feel…?”
Stone shook his head. “Vulnerable? I don’t know what you want me to say, Kat.”
“Yes, you do. That’s why we’ll keep beating this subject to death until you can admit—not to me, to Dash Numos, or even your communications tech—whatever her name is this week—but, admit to yourself aloud where you can hear it with your own ears.”
Numos laughed. “Nice bit of psychobabble there, Kat. I’m just going to toss the boy outside on the next planet we come to and leave him there until he quits shitting on himself.”
Emmons and Stone laughed. Emmons laugh was genuine. Stone’s laugh was a bit more hesitant, not knowing for sure whether Numos was kidding or not.
Numos looked hurt that everyone laughed at his therapy plans, “Desensitization can work.”
Emmons said, “Good thing you’re not a psychiatrist.”
Numos laughed, “You aren’t either. You’re a behaviorist.”
Holding both hands palm up as if she was weighing offerings to Numos, Emmons replied, “One of these things is like the other. Besides, if I practiced psychiatry, I’d have to treat patients in private one-on-one sessions. I’m not as good at keeping secrets as some people are on this bridge.” She was staring directly at Ryte. “As a behaviorist, I get to pick on this young man in public. That’s a lot more fun than meeting in stuffy rooms on overstuffed couches.”
Stone said, “You’re not here to pick on me
, Kat. I thought you were here to write reports on—”
“I’m a freelancer, Trey,” Emmons interrupted. “I get to choose who I want to write reports on, I pass the reports on to whoever might be interested. What they do with them isn’t any of my business or yours. I find your agoraphobia relapse interesting. Just as I’m interested in this Prophet fellow. Theocracies aren’t unknown in the Empire, but I haven’t been able to find out much about this religion.”
Stone shrugged, apparently Emmons wanted to change the subject. “I’m not sure anyone outside of Holliman’s Rift can explain it. Maybe you’ll get the chance to ask him personally.”
Emmons looked thoughtful. “That would be helpful indeed. Still, I imagine it would be more useful to interview his adherents and any citizens who’ve fallen from grace, so to speak.”
Numos said, “We’ll see what we can find for you, Kat.”
Ryte said, “Message just received from Holliman’s Rift. For a religious bunch, they seem terribly eager to get a visit from this floating party barge.”
Emmons snorted, “Many religions down through human history have embraced partying, good times, and promiscuity as tenets of their beliefs.”
Ryte shook her head, “None my mama ever told me about.”
The weapons tech laughed, her voice tinkling with humor. “Yeah, mamas are like that sometimes. My mother was like: here’s a communion wafer; press it between your knees and keep squeezing tight. Her attitude and her thick, wide leather belt across my backside were some of the reasons I left home early.”
All crew who operated the bridge’s weapons console were members of Allie’s Galactic Marshals team. This technician reveled in her nickname, Preacher Mary. Stone had learned it was not due to her being religious but being so anti-religious that she could spout from a dozen different sacred texts at the drop of a hat, each contradicting the other, with her voice taking on the sing-song lilt long associated with itinerant traveling evangelists.
Preacher Mary was short, far too short for the marines. She had transferred to the Galactic Marshals, Q-Force from the UEN where she demonstrated extremely efficient weapons skills. It was rumored that she had preached a full sermon while pounding away at a Hyrocanian ship as a gunner on a UEN frigate.
