Reckoning Page 4
Kylee followed his gaze to the column of multicolored fliers that rose, swirled, and dived down into the top of a towering stonewood tree. “Mobbers all right. Looks like they’ve got some poor creature trapped down there.”
“God help it.” Dek had had his own close shaves with mobbers. The winged death came within a whisker of killing him twice.
Kylee said, “Grief and rage lead people into some pretty bad mistakes. When Spiro shot Rocket, his death ripped a gaping hole, one that took years to come to terms with. I might never have, but for Flute and Talina. At least I can understand the pain, even if it will never go away.”
She hooked a thumb toward the forest they were flying over. “That’s part of what drives me to find and kill that treetop monster that killed Mom and Mark. I was just starting to atone for what I’d done at Mundo, and that thing killed them. It just made the guilt and grief worse, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I have my own burdens to bear. I told you about some of the things I did and regret.” Dek shared a conspiratorial wink. “Living is all about making up for past mistakes. What you and I know is that we can make decisions about who we want to be and then dedicate ourselves to living that kind of life.”
“Can I?” she asked. “I don’t look human anymore. My legs are too long, my musculature is different, my eyes are too large, and my cheekbones are too sharp. With my pointed chin, I don’t look anything like Madison and Chaco’s kids. I’m alien. A whole new phenotype.”
“I think you look exotic,” Dek told her.
“Yeah, but you’re just as infected with TriNA as Talina and me. Can you imagine the impact I’d have walking down the main avenue in Port Authority? Me and Flute? We’d be shot down within seconds.” And that really grated deep down inside. They’d hated Rocket. And he still lived inside her.
“It’s not the same town it was back when you were there. We know a lot more about quetzals now, and Talina and I, we’ve had an impact. Actually, there’s a lot of speculation about you. People know that you and Flute saved Kalico and Private Muldare, and that you took down Batuhan. Not to mention the times you’ve worked as a scout for rescue parties.”
“I still don’t trust them.” But, at the same time, she felt a bit of excitement. Hard as it was to admit it to herself, since Tip had wandered off, she’d been at a loss. Sure, hanging around at Briggs’ place, teaching the little kids, filled some of the need, but a new sense of longing had been growing inside of her.
“What do you hear about Damien?” she asked as they sailed over a deep canyon in the basalt. He was her older brother and Rebecca Smart’s oldest son, now a geologist working with Lea Shimodi and employed by Kalico Aguila. He was doing minerals and mapping survey.
“He’s fine.” Dek shot her a knowing glance. “Kalico has him down at Southern Diggings logging core samples with Flip. Su asks about you. Kylee, your family understands. They don’t blame you for what happened to Rebecca and Shantaya.”
“Some sins can’t be erased, Dek.”
“No,” he agreed, “but they can be understood. And, once understood, they can be forgiven.”
If only it were that easy, she thought as the airplane arrowed its way east.
4
Captain Margo Abibi was seated comfortably in the command chair in Turalon’s astrogation center, or AC. What once would have been called “the bridge” was the center of the ship’s navigation and operation. For hours now, Turalon had been taking readings, trying to refine her position relative to Capella III and to chart the most efficient course that would take Turalon to a satisfactory orbit.
In the chairs around the AC, her command crew sat at their stations, attention on the monitors that provided navigational data. The swelling feeling of relief at having made the transition, not only from Solar System, but to the exact place and time they’d hoped, was like instantaneously being given new life. Especially when, according to the ship’s clocks, they’d only spent nineteen months in what should have been a twenty-three-month transition.
When the reactors had reestablished symmetry so many months ahead of schedule, Margo Abibi had been terrified. Especially given the amount of fuel Turalon had consumed. The tanks had been down to sixteen percent. So where had it all gone? Why was this trip so different from the first voyage to Donovan? With the missing ships—not to mention Freelander and Ashanti lurking like the specter of the Lost Dutchman in her mind—Margo had almost broken out in tears of joy when her navigation officer, Sunyap Tamiki, had announced, “From the spectral reading, that star to our right is Capella, Captain. We’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
So, she wondered, what explained the missing months? Why the rapid transition?
God, traveling outside the universe using inverted symmetry is crazy!
Yeah, whatever. They’d made it. She was alive, her crew was safe, and her passengers were spared a gruesome fate.
Margo thought she could walk on air.
“Got a plot on Donovan,” Sunyap called. “Inputting the course now. Estimate establishment of planetary orbit in, let’s see. Yes, that will be eighteen days, ten hours ship’s time, ma’am.”
“Input course and initiate, Mr. Chin,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” First Officer Tadeo Chin acknowledged in a voice that almost sounded musical with delight. He bent to his controls, ensuring that Turalon’s computers were sending the proper instructions to the massive thrusters where they were mounted on pods below the giant spherical reactor.
Abibi felt the familiar shift as Turalon began to change attitude and accelerate.
“All systems are go and reading in the green,” Turalon’s voice assured as the AI monitored the initial burn.
“Couldn’t be more perfect,” Second Officer Madra Arapava said as she straightened from her console. The forty-year-old gave Abibi a smile. “Think we’ll get home as quickly?”
“Hope so,” Abibi told her. “I don’t think I could take another couple of hours like these last ones. I’m getting too old for this.”
“Go right ahead, Captain,” Chin quipped from the first officer’s chair. “Retire. With reluctance, I’ll have to move from my wonderfully comfortable chair to yours. Took me months to adjust this one perfectly. Settling into yours, I’ll have to start over from scratch.”
“Dream on,” Abibi told him. The joke came from the fact that Chin stood a little over two meters tall and Abibi barely cleared a meter and half.
“Captain?” Com Officer Cissi Butooro’s voice came through the speakers. “We’ve got a hail on the hyperlink.”
Abibi frowned. “Last time we were here, all communications were by radio. Put it through.”
“Attention, this is the Corporate explorer ship Vixen. Identification IS-SE-17. We’re reading your hyperlink beacon. Please identify. This is Captain Torgussen of the Vixen. If you are receiving, please reply.”
“Hello, Vixen. And greetings! This is Captain Margo Abibi, IS-C-26 Turalon. We’re receiving, Captain Torgussen. Our compliments to Vixen. We have just arrived in-system and are boosting for Capella III. What can we do for you?”
“Welcome to Donovan, Captain. Congratulations to Turalon on a successful transition. Let us be the first to tell you, your arrival is not only welcomed, but will be received with relief in a lot of quarters. Query: Do you have news regarding Ashanti? She shipped more than three years ago for Solar System with Vixen personnel aboard. We’d appreciate any word.”
“Roger that, Vixen. We are delighted to inform you that Ashanti arrived off Neptune orbit with all hands safe and sound. We’ve been advised of your history, and your people made quite a splash upon their arrival.”
Splash was an understatement. Hell, Ashanti’s arrival had been more like a detonation. Abibi was cognizant only of the initial impact. Turalon had upset enough people with the containers of minerals, metals, gemstones, and clays, let alone the stunning news of so many lost ships, tales of renegade colonists, and derring-do. Then the horror and tragedy that had befallen Freelander had sent shock waves through The Corporation’s uppermost management. That Board Supervisor Aguila had stayed behind after signing over ownership of Port Authority had caused its own consternation. Abibi had been debriefed in a closed session of the Board. And debriefed. And debriefed some more. All of Turalon’s records had been downloaded, studied, and promptly restricted.
Given the brouhaha that was consuming the Board, Abibi immediately requested reassignment to Turalon. She’d occupied herself with the turnaround, only mildly distracted by Ashanti’s arrival. Pus in a pocket, but better the uncertainties of space compared to the shenanigans of Corporate politics. And she’d hated being under the spotlight, not to mention having her decisions second-guessed by a bunch of soft-assed Boardmembers.
Torgussen asked, “Was our data downloaded? Vixen, since her arrival, has conducted a comprehensive initial mapping of the Capella system. A copy of our research, mapping, and survey was included in Ashanti’s manifest.”
“Oh, we can assure you,” Abibi said with a smile. “Every qubit of data, the ship’s records, even the daily logs have been downloaded from Ashanti. Honestly, Captain, we inverted symmetry before the proverbial shit hit the thrusters, but there was no way The Corporation could have kept the lid on. A cult of cannibals? Lost in space for seven years? And then the wealth? You ask me, nothing’s going to be the same from here on out. We had applications in the tens of thousands seeking a berth on Turalon. As the Ashanti news broke, Corporate Interstellar Operations were inundated with requests for transit. Whatever data and discoveries you sent back, Captain, I can guarantee you that it’s being scoured for information, right down to the placement of decimal points.”
Abibi could hear cheers in the background.
 
; “Thank you, Captain.” Torgussen’s voice was laced with emotion. “You just made a lot of people on Vixen very happy. Back slaps and high fives are the order of the day here. When opportunity presents, Vixen would like to do you and your officers the honor of a fine supper in our galley. And we’ll have our latest survey data to send back with you.”
She grinned. “Invitation accepted, Captain. It will be our pleasure.”
“We’ve just had radio confirmation. Two Spot, down in Port Authority, has received your beacon. They know you’re here.”
Abibi settled back in her chair. Well, the die was cast. She crossed her legs and considered. The last time she’d arrived in Donovan’s orbit, it had almost ended in a bloodbath. To stem it, Kalico Aguila had granted deeds and titles to the Donovanians. News of that had set off a firestorm among the Boardmembers. In the end, it might have burned out. Might not have meant a thing to The Corporation if Ashanti hadn’t arrived in Turalon’s wake dripping with even more unimaginable wealth. The Board had been so unsettled it had appointed Inspector General Suto Soukup. Given him Board authority and even delayed Turalon’s departure in the rush to get him aboard. Not to mention the few families who had scrambled the fastest to ensure their agents made the trip.
Agents? More like venomous reptiles.
And then there were thirty marines under the command of Colonel Stanley Creamer. All with tech.
And Abibi had no idea whose orders they were to follow.
She’d ensured that throughout the transit, she and her crew kept their distance.
And when they’d popped back into the universe, in those few moments of uncertainty, Margo Abibi had had one finger poised over the button that would have locked and sealed the Transportee Deck and vented its atmosphere into space.
Not only had she learned the lessons taught by Freelander and her old friend Miguel Galluzzi aboard the Ashanti, but never in her life had she transported people like her current high-ranking family members. These people scared her right down to the marrow. She would have rather shared the company of quetzals, bems, spiders, scorpions, and sidewinders.
And then there was the Board Appointed Inspector General Soukup and his mysterious Four: three men and one woman who accompanied him everywhere.
“God help you, Kalico,” she whispered under her breath. “You’re going to need it.”
Then aloud, she said, “Captain, since you’re in radio communication, could you get a message to Board Supervisor Aguila?”
“Yes, ma’am. She’s not more than an eighteen-minute delay by radio. What message would you like delivered?”
“Tell her Margo Abibi sends her compliments. We need to talk.”
5
The simple slab of engraved duraplast read: HERE LIES LIZ BARANSKI, KILLED BY WHITEY. It wasn’t much of a marker or much of a grave. Just big enough to hold the box that enclosed Liz’s skull. Talina watched as old Fred Han Chow shoveled the rich red dirt back into the half-meter-deep hole.
Shig Mosadek stood to the side, arms crossed on his narrow chest; his worn quetzal cape draped from his shoulders, protection against the misty rain that fell from the thick overcast. Shig’s thatch of unruly hair—black sided by gray—now sported beads of water. Round and brown, his Indian face had a serene look that not even his mashed mushroom of a nose could disrupt.
Talina let her gaze rove over the familiar headstones, the occasional fake floral display, and the larger and more ornate stone monument to Donovan himself. He’d been the first human buried atop this small hill back when Tempest—the initial survey ship to reach Donovan—had landed here to sample the clay deposits. Donovan had stepped out to take a leak and was grabbed by a quetzal. After his crewmates had killed the beast and pried what was left of Donovan out of the predator’s gullet, they’d buried his remains here on the heights.
Upon the founding of Port Authority, it only made sense to put the cemetery here. Give old Donovan some company. Somewhat depressed, Talina took in the graves; she was surprised by the number of them she’d stood over as they were filled. Yonder was Mitch, the first man she’d ever really loved. And next to him lay Cap. And over there, Trish. Just across the way was Felicity’s grave. Down at the bottom there, they’d interred the remains of Deb Spiro after Tal had shot her. Tens of others were friends, acquaintances, people she’d known. Some, like Paolo and Pak, that she’d murdered. Demon stirred at the thought. The piece of shit always enjoyed it when she experienced a pang of guilt and regret.
“Lot of history here.” Shig seemed to read her mind.
“Yeah. Thanks for coming. Liz would have appreciated the gesture.” Tal pulled her hat up as the misty drops began to turn into a more spirited rain. “Buy you a drink?”
Shig gave Liz’s grave a last look and donned his wide-brimmed hat. Thumbs stuck in his belt, he matched pace with Talina as she wound her way through the graves. “With Turalon coming in, we’ll send Liz’s diamonds back. As I recall, she had family back on Earth. The Corporation should have some record of their whereabouts.”
“Think the pus-licking Corporation’s actually going to deliver a wealth of uncut diamonds to Liz’s family? Be more like those puffed and perfumed Boardmembers to confiscate the lot of them as some sort of compensation or according to some farfetched technicality.”
“They might. Who knows? But something tells me that Turalon’s arrival is going to give us a whole new perspective on The Corporation. Two Spot has been in communication with Captain Abibi. While she hasn’t mentioned that The Corporation has sent a replacement Supervisor, she has hinted that she has bigwigs aboard.”
“Kalico know this?”
“I sent word. She’s down on the southern continent, taking a look at the big terbium and palladium deposit that Lea Shimodi has been mapping. I guess they’ve also got a vein of almost pure copper mixed with aluminum that she wanted to check out. She’s got a hyperlink on the shuttle. She can talk directly with Vixen. Torgussen can patch through on the photonic com to Turalon.”
“She hasn’t been around nearly as much since they finished that adit on the Number Three,” Talina reminded him as they slogged past the high stack of shipping containers that formed a seven-high fortress-like wall around the landing field. Talina kept a wary eye on the nooks and crannies, the places where a quetzal might be waiting in ambush. All of Port Authority had been on alert since she’d determined that Whitey was back in the area. Not that anyone ever got lazy when it came to keeping the town safe, but knowing that Whitey was around had galvanized the locals to double vigilance.
They slogged past the PA shuttle where water dripped from its sleek lines and passed the loaders and forklifts where Pamlico Jones—who oversaw the shuttle landing field—had parked them.
The perimeter fence that surrounded Port Authority was an ugly thing, patched together with mismatched sections of woven and welded wire that rose some fifty feet into the air. While the big cargo gate was closed, the smaller “man gate” that allowed people to pass stood open. Wejee Tolland—the outline of a rifle visible beneath his slicker—gave her a big grin where he stood guard. Atop his bushy red-blond hair, the hat brim was pulled low and dripped rain.
“You get Liz taken care of?” he asked.
“We did.” She glanced back, seeing old Chow, shovel over his shoulder, as he came plodding across the landing field. “Once Chow’s in, you can lock up for the night.”
“Got it.” Wejee narrowed an evaluative eye as he glanced up at the darkening clouds. “Gonna be a quetzal night, if you ask me. The air’s got that feel to it.”
“You keep everyone sharp,” Shig reminded, mimicking Wejee’s suspicious glance at the sullen sky. “Last time Whitey was around, they tried a mass attack, remember?”
Wejee shifted his hat, rubbed at his thick brow. “We don’t take any chances. Everybody’s on alert. Most of us are a bit nervous that he’s been in the area for a month now. Wish we’d been running scouts, searching for him. Better to kill that son of a bitch before he has a chance to hit us at a time of his own choosing.”
“Yeah.” Talina gave him a knowing squint. “Whitey and I have some unfinished business.” She’d been the one to maim his left front leg, and the bullet scars she’d left him with still marred the big quetzal’s side and had given him a limp.