Knock on Wood

by C. J. Clemens

  “The shipyard has maybe two that could break orbit,” Zain said.

  “But they’re pieces of shit,” Jibs added.

  “Jibs thinks we’d die as soon as we take off.” Zain searched her face for a reaction.

  She nodded, already bored with the conversation. “So, what you’re saying is, we need to keep looking.”

  Both men nodded.

  Then a tentative smile passed across Zain’s face.

  “What?” she asked him.

  “We did manage to swipe a land vehicle. It’s got wheels and can hover—”

  “Zain’s new toy,” Jibs cut in.

  Her back grew rigid. She sensed him before she saw him. Over Jibs’s shoulder, the crowd in the saloon was parting.

  “You two need to get out of here,” she said. “That tub of shit is coming to chew me out.”

  Gono Darkbur headed toward the back of the bar, but he hadn’t noticed her yet.

  Her men vacated their chairs without a second glance and scurried out through the nearest exit.

  Finally, Darkbur spotted her. Insofar as she could read the expressions on his deeply lined face, he didn’t seem pissed off. In fact, he seemed calm. Well, he did run a large criminal empire, so she knew he wasn’t stupid.

  Stubborn, yes.

  Not waiting for an invitation, he took the seat beside her. That chair had proved popular today, each occupant less desirable than the previous one.

  “Darkbur,” she acknowledged him.

  He eyed her for a moment, and then his craggy face cracked into a sly grin. “I think I have a handle on you.”

  “Oh?” she asked with the practiced undertone of boredom she’d perfected at a very young age.

  “I still haven’t decided if I believe that story you spun, but it’s obvious you have experience. I can use someone like you.”

  Her gut tightened at the word use, but she merely blinked.

  “But you have to learn to take orders,” Darkbur grunted.

  She forced her lips into a smile. “I don’t have a problem taking orders, Darkbur. I have a problem doing stupid shit that gets my people killed—or even your people.”

  He let her comment slide. His eyes scanned the bar. “Things on this planet are about to change… dramatically.”

  “And you’re going to be at the forefront of that change?”

  His gaze returned to her face. “See? You are smart.”

  And you, a condescending pig.

  He produced a small tablet from his thick, multi-pocketed jacket and brought up a map of the four blocks in Bane that included the saloon where they currently sat, the Butcher’s Place.

  “Have you ever planned security details before?” he asked, twisting the map for her to read.

  She nodded.

  “Good. I need these areas guarded.” Darkbur prodded his thick fingers at several buildings, including the Butcher’s Place.

  “I can do that.” She returned his stern gaze with one of her own. “But how many men do I have to work with?”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  Darkbur rose from the table, causing a flurry of alarm in the patrons nearby. Shaw had to stifle a laugh as she observed people ducking their heads and hiding their faces.

  “Let me know tomorrow,” Darkbur said, leaving the tablet on the table.

  Without waiting for a response, he turned away and strolled toward the front entrance.

  Shaw drummed her fingers on the tabletop. Fine, she would do this job for him. She, Zain, and Jibs might as well stay on the right side of the local mafia until the three of them found a viable way to get the hell off Vox.

  As she sat alone at the table, reflecting on her situation, she noticed several patrons staring at her. Likely wondering who she was and why she seemed so chummy with the biggest, baddest crime lord in town.

  Amused, she smiled to herself, then she finished her drink, grabbed the tablet, and slipped out the same side exit her guys had used.

  Chapter 3

  LILLY

  “Naillik Skiff R743, you are approaching Trame airspace. Please state your business,” came the smooth voice of the monastery controller over the shuttle’s speakers.

  The calm tones enveloped Lilly in a sense of peace. She hadn’t felt such tranquility in at least five days, ever since the precious meds had been stolen.

  She pressed the comms button on the console beside her. “Trame Controller, this is Sheriff Greyson from Naillik, respectfully requesting an audience with Lady Ris.”

  “What if they don’t let us in?” Dreyla asked, nibbling on a fingernail.

  Lilly shook her head for silence. They really shouldn’t be dragging this underage girl around with them. Though leaving her behind in Naillik wasn’t an option either, and locking her up in the detention center obviously hadn’t worked the first time Lilly had done it.

  The comms buzzed.

  “Of course, Sheriff,” came the controller’s dulcet tones. “You are always welcome in Trame. Please set down in Landing Port 4.”

  “Thank you,” Lilly said, then turned to her fellow occupants. “We should be touching down in about ten minutes.”

  As if on cue, Bechet, Dreyla, and the old man all unbuckled themselves and pushed forward into the cramped cockpit to peer through the front windshield. Lilly couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction.

  Trame was indeed a remarkable oasis in the middle of the Vox desert, simultaneously resembling a fortress and a high-end resort. An impregnable outer wall surrounded the entire community, protecting a variety of gardens, pools, and structures, and the buildings themselves, made of terra-cotta stone and gleaming metal alloy, looked both ancient and futuristic.

  After Tim had died, and before she’d taken on the role as sheriff, Lilly had spent three weeks sequestered in Trame. Lady Ris had taken her personally under her wing and helped her recover from the trauma. Otherwise, she’d probably have taken forever to rebuild her sense of identity and find a reason to keep going. Lady Ris enabled her to forge a path through the bleak swamp of helplessness she’d found herself mired in. The woman had essentially saved her life.

  Lilly had even, if only for a second, considered joining their order, but while she enjoyed sex as much as the next woman, it had been too soon after Tim’s death to even think about basic intercourse much less embrace the monks’ sensual lifestyle. The Ladies of Morbious took intimacy to a whole different level, with nonstop enthusiasm and altruistic pleasure. After becoming an unexpected widow, Lilly had enough trouble pleasing herself without having to consider the sexual needs of others.

  Bechet turned from the front window and gazed at her, a questioning wrinkle in his brow. Damn him. He’d caught her in a moment of softness. She hardened her jaw. The pirate needed to see her only as the tough, competent sheriff who’d just as soon slap him in cuffs as give him the time of day.

  She’d already caught him watching her like this a few times before. He didn’t do what most men did, which was to quickly glance the other way. Bechet would hold her gaze for a few seconds and then casually look somewhere else. As if staring into his smoldering eyes would somehow transfix her. Well, he could enjoy his fantasies.

  True, he did have nice eyes—kind, despite the bravado, with an intricate greenish-brown pattern she’d never encountered before.

  “Sheriff,” Brand said shrilly from her own console, “I’m getting the first reports of Rot-related deaths from home.”

  Lilly’s warm thoughts turned to ice.

  Brand removed her headset. The blood had drained from her face, making her look rather anemic.

  “Already?” Davis called from the cockpit.

  “Had to be miners from the outer edges of the territory,” Lilly said.

  “I don’t understand,” Tosh asked, “shouldn’t there be an overlapping grace period so this doesn’t happen?”

  “Naturally, that’d be ideal. But even if there were, it wouldn’t be enough,” Lilly explained. “There are probably ab
out fifty thousand illegal miners on this planet, and since the quarterly allotment doesn’t count them, it’s created a serious black market for nans.”

  Dreyla returned to her seat. “Why not create them on-planet?”

  The old doctor followed her to the back, nodding at her question. He might have been a drug addict, but at the moment, he seemed quite with it.

  “There’s a comet that travels around our solar system. It’s the only place where the nano-biotics can be created,” Lilly responded. “And they’re the only thing that works on the Rot.”

  “That seems difficult to believe,” Tosh said.

  “There’s a form of Vox on the comet, similar to the mineral found on this planet, the very mineral that powers this shuttle and pretty much everything else,” Jacer explained. “It’s far more refined, though, and for some reason, we can only create these specific nano-biotics in the comet’s atmosphere.”

  Perhaps sensing Tosh’s ongoing doubt, Milo added, “In the unstable environment of the comet, we can utilize the VoxZ for the full bio-fabrication. The comet somehow creates an energy bubble where the nans can grow.”

  “That sounds like a dark matter stream,” Dreyla said.

  “It’s all beside the point,” Lilly responded. “The fact is, there are already people suffering, and thousands upon thousands will die if we don’t get those drugs back.”

  Bechet cocked his head, his eyes seemingly begging her for more information.

  “These people live on the fringe,” she explained. “They mine their small claims in the hopes that they’ll be able to bank enough to make a modest living.”

  The whole shuttle had gone quiet, as if everyone was digesting the bad news.

  “That’s crazy,” Dreyla said finally. “The Rot hits them that quickly?”

  “Yes,” the old man said, squeezing the girl’s forearm. “If they’d been exposed to it over an extended period of time, treating it on a scheduled basis, the disease might be so gestated in their systems that missing the dose for a few days could expedite the results.”

  Lilly stared at him. She wasn’t the only one. All heads had turned, sharing her complete surprise that this crazy old man they’d found raving and splattered with blood actually knew anything—about anything.

  Only Bechet and the girl seemed unfazed.

  “Oh, our doc’s wicked smart—as long as you can keep him off the booze.” Dreyla smiled into his wrinkled face.

  He grinned back indulgently.

  Who are these people?

  “And any other pharmaceuticals,” Bechet added with a wry glance at his two companions.

  The old man shrugged in acknowledgment.

  “Well… he’s right,” Lilly said, finally finding her voice again. “Some of these people are so far along, the cells in their bodies start eating themselves as soon as the nano-biotics shut down.”

  “Coming in for a landing,” Davis’s voice interrupted from the pilot’s seat.

  Not that Lilly minded the distraction. She hadn’t even noticed the monastery getting closer; now, it took up the entire front window.

  “I’d sit down if I were you,” she cautioned, gazing up at Bechet. “It’s quite a drop into the landing ports.”

  Bechet reclaimed his seat and buckled himself in—not a moment too soon. Davis dropped the shuttle forty feet at a time, making for a stomach-churning parking job.

  Lilly’s head spun sickeningly. Maybe she should have had Bechet land the ship.

  A minute later, the shuttle had touched down, and Lilly could already discern a greeting party headed their way. Half a dozen women with long, taut limbs and flowing, glistening hair sashayed toward the shuttle’s main hatch, their golden bikinis and iridescent, garnet-hued robes sparkling in the sun.

  The procession was beauty personified, but given the long, sharp pikes these women carried, and the rifles strapped to some of their backs, anyone with half a brain could figure out they weren’t to be messed with.

  Lilly sensed the doctor didn’t exactly understand that part as he mumbled something about “such pretty ladies” and ambled his way out of the shuttle.

  “Wicked smart, huh?” Davis turned to Dreyla, crossing his arms.

  Bechet managed to wrench his gaze away from the beauties. “Odds are he’s sleeping with one of them before the night is through.”

  “Well, that’s no large feat.” Lilly stepped down from the shuttle and impatiently signaled for the rest to follow.

  Bechet looked at Milo and Jacer for clarification.

  Milo rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s just say this lot is in a constant state of sexual exploration.”

  “Taking a man or woman is just their way of proselytizing them,” Jacer opined, twirling his long fingers.

  “OK,” Bechet grunted, following the old doctor with his eyes. “Nobody let Tosh sign any blood oaths or anything.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Dreyla said, with all the assuredness of youth.

  Lilly peered pointedly over the girl’s shoulder to where the doctor was already stroking a monk’s hair. His goofy smile made him seem like an overeager schoolchild.

  Dreyla’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe not that close of an eye.”

  One of the monks, a red-haired goddess with an air of authority, broke from the group and approached the landing party. “Lady Ris is waiting for you,” she said in the silken voice Lilly recognized as the Trame Controller from their landing protocol. “This way, Sheriff Lilly.”

  Chapter 4

  DREYLA

  The monks guided Dreyla and the others inside one of the glorious buildings and into a spacious chamber that seemed both ornate and functional.

  “Lilly!” Lady Ris, a tall, auburn-haired woman glided forward with arms extended.

  Clad in a gold-mesh bikini and a burgundy robe—apparently the standard uniform for the so-called Ladies of Morbious—the exotic woman warmly embraced the sheriff, and the two of them seemed to spend about twenty seconds kissing each other. Dreyla felt like a total voyeur watching them.

  So, that’s how the sheriff flies.

  As soon as the notion popped in her head, she wondered what Remy thought about the intimate scene. But as the two women broke from their embrace, Dreyla involuntarily gasped. Lady Ris was probably the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen—with green, crystalline eyes in a timeless, perfect face that spoke only of truth and goodness… and indomitable strength.

  OK, I get it now.

  Introductions soon followed. Dreyla’s mind buzzed with all the new names and faces as well as the dazzling beauty of the monks. Was it genetic engineering? For a fleeting moment, she wanted to be one of them.

  Lady Ris urged everyone to take a seat at a large round table in the center of the room. Nearly all the men in their present company seemed to be shifting their eyes anywhere but at the women’s scantily-clad bodies. It was almost comical how uneasy they were. Even Remy. He looked the least comfortable of the lot, his gaze alternately darting between Sheriff Greyson and the marble tabletop.

  Tosh, the only one at ease in their party, grinned at Dreyla, and she responded with her customary eye-roll. Seriously, what did the doc have that attracted women before they even knew how smart he was? Then again, it seemed Trame was the kind of place where all were welcomed… in every conceivable way. It made Dreyla’s stomach twist with queasiness and a curiosity she couldn’t name.

  Adults, sigh.

  “Lilly,” Lady Ris said in her warm, maternal voice, “we received notice that the med ship crew was killed and that the shipment of nano-biotics was taken.”

  The sheriff nodded, not interrupting or trying to speed up the conversation, as Dreyla had witnessed several times before.

  “We have also received word that the effects are already being felt,” Lady Ris continued. “Even a few unfortunate fatalities among the miners.”

  “Yes, it’s going to get bad,” the sheriff acknowledged, dipping her head slightly.

  “W
e have a small reserve of meds here, but I am afraid it will not be nearly enough,” Lady Ris admitted. “When is the soonest a replacement shipment can be delivered?”

  Before Sheriff Greyson could answer her, Deputy Brand said, “Three months.”

  Lady Ris’s lovely face darkened. Dreyla could guess why; she’d seen quite a few people in Naillik showing signs of the affliction. Even the girls at the JDC had described what happened to those who didn’t receive their doses on time. Not something you’d want befalling your family and friends.

  “Lady Ris, we actually need a different kind of help,” the sheriff said, her voice almost petering out.

  Just then, several lady monks carried in platters of food and drinks for everyone, providing a welcome break in the tense, melancholy atmosphere. Soon, a multicolor spread of aromatic food covered the tabletop, eliciting murmurs of grateful approval from Dreyla and the rest of the shuttle crew.

  Dreyla cautiously sank her teeth into a purple, oval-shaped fruit. The skin easily gave way to flesh that was soft and sweet, and better than anything she’d ever tasted.

  “You need to get into Bane,” Lady Ris said to the sheriff as everyone else scrambled for food.

  Sheriff Greyson put down her goblet and nodded.

  “You think you can steal the shipment back from Darkbur?” Lady Ris asked, her voice concerned yet nonjudgmental.

  The sheriff glanced across the table toward Remy, who was eyeing a blue, prune-shaped fruit cradled in his palm.

  “The captain can,” Dreyla said stoutly.

  At the sound of her voice, Remy looked up.

  “We know Darkbur took the meds and that he’ll be selling them for more than most can afford,” Sheriff Greyson said bitterly, loud enough to include everyone in the conversation.

  Lady Ris nodded sagely. “He plans to take control of the planet.”

  The sheriff’s face bunched up in hatred.

  “Not if we can stop him,” Remy said, finally popping the blue fruit into his mouth. He chewed slowly at first, frowned for a few seconds, and then, his face clearing, reached for more.