Outpost

“Could this get any worse?”

  “Yep. And the day is still young.”

  18

  Talina had her butt propped on her favorite chair, elbows on the bar as she surveyed the boisterous room. At the gut level her people understood they’d just won a victory—even if they didn’t exactly understand the ways, means, or ramifications of it.

  As the folks milled around the marines, grinning, passing pleasantries, they weren’t paying that much attention to where the Supervisor sat at the other end of the bar, her head bowed close to Captain Taggart’s and First Officer Chan’s. As Supervisor Aguila talked in a low voice, she kept glancing speculatively at Shig and Yvette, and then at Talina.

  Yeah, trying to figure out what to do next now that we bitch-slapped the hell out of them.

  Bitch-slapped? She wondered idly what the origins of the words were, and whether it referred to disciplining a female dog or abusing a woman. Whatever. When it came to Supervisor Aguila, Talina figured it fit.

  She watched Shig sidle up next to her, his bland face irritatingly smug with that placid look that seemed forever his.

  “Dodged the bullet, didn’t we?” she said.

  “I wondered just how far you were going to let them go before bringing everyone to heel. When dancing with the Devil, one must be careful not to miss a step.”

  “Figured the Corporate dogs needed a bit of a shock, to be knocked off their balance.” She made a face and shook her head. “Didn’t figure that they’d just up and hand us an out on Clemenceau. I mean, I didn’t even think Skulls could be that stupid. Thought Kalico was supposed to be some hyper-efficient, coldly calculating Corporate hotshot.”

  “In her world I’m sure she’s most formidable. She would not have attained her present position were she not. I suspect she has just been humiliated for the first time in her life. That she hasn’t stormed off in a pout indicates a more complex and adaptive personality than I would have suspected.”

  “We fucked up, Shig. Underestimated them. I mean, I walked in my door and right into an ambush not ten minutes after you warned me.”

  Shig was staring thoughtfully down the bar where Aguila and Taggart were shaking hands with Chan. A moment later the First Officer took his leave. Then the heads were together again. “If they’d held the hearing in private, we’d be in chains and headed up to the ship, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Chains?”

  “It’s a historical reference. Prisoners in the old times were chained. Much more cumbersome than ties.”

  “Packing the room with our people, you were counting on that, weren’t you?”

  “You heard the Supervisor. We were supposed to be made an example of. To see us condemned should have disheartened them, deflated any spirit of resistance, fostered the notion that, but for the Supervisor’s grace, any one of them could be next.”

  “They don’t know us very well, do they?”

  “As of today they are learning.”

  “Think they took Yvette’s hint about brokering a deal?”

  “I am always optimistic that even the most benighted of souls lost in tamas might be tempted to embrace the quest of a Bodhisattva.”

  “You know, Shig, there’s times when trying to talk to you is like hitting myself in the head with a hammer.”

  “Ah, self-induced suffering is the ascetic’s fastest path to illumination—though given the rajas that dominate your personality, I would suggest simple denial rather than self-mortification.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “That I like you just as you are, Talina. Don’t change a thing.”

  With that, he patted her on the knee, smiled wistfully, and headed off through the crowd on his way to the door.

  She shook her head, slapping her right hand to her restored pistol where it rode in her holster. God, it felt good to be back in control.

  She was aware when Aguila gave Taggart a nod, straightened, and started toward the door. Four marines detached themselves from the crowd, closing around her in a protective detail. The woman might have been oblivious, although Talina figured that was an act. People watched as she climbed the steps and exited into the afternoon sun.

  Talina took another swig of her beer as Captain Taggart bellied up to the bar beside her and leaned forward on his elbows. He seemed to scan the shelving with its various containers. Inga—now reinstalled in her kingdom—walked down, asking, “What’ll it be?”

  “Beer. Same as the security officer here.”

  Talina shifted enough to see Inga’s suspicious scowl as she walked to the keg and filled an old ceramic mug. Setting it down with a clunk, she asked, “That one go on the Supervisor’s account, too?”

  “Of course.”

  “She damn well better be good for it. Don’t you Corporate bastards try and stiff me now, or so help me, won’t none of you be allowed to set foot in here again.”

  Before Taggart could reply she was off, heading for a knot of farmers who were back for refills.

  “Tough lady,” Taggart mused.

  “Only if you piss her off.”

  Taggart kept his gaze focused on the wall. “Thanks for keeping a lid on things.”

  “No thanks needed.” She glanced back over the crowd before fixing on him. He seemed content to let her study his ear and the left side of his head.

  “Can we call a truce?” he asked.

  “Can we?”

  Taggart rocked his mug. The half of his expression Talina could see remained unemotional. “There’s no other way to say it: We were idiots. Clemenceau’s log entries, the way the reports were written, it looked like you, Shig, and Yvette staged a coup, murdered him, and seized the colony. What were we supposed to think?”

  “The same thing you’re thinking now: How do we get control of this world back?” Talina paused. “You’ve still got the marines. In armor, employing tech, and with their weapons, you can flatten this entire compound, blow every last one us away. Or round us up, corral us like cattle, and ship us off world. If Turalon makes it back to Transluna, you can hammer us all—one by one—in a courtroom. What’s not to love?”

  “Assume, just for an instant, that we wouldn’t hammer your people in court. Just call bygones bygones. Would your people go? Leave Donovan?”

  “Some. From my count, there’s one hundred and thirty-six who have their bags packed and are dancing from foot to foot in anticipation of shuttling up to Turalon. They can’t wait to space for home.”

  “What about the rest of you?” He still hadn’t turned to look at her. He came across as a big, tough, soldier who’d just had his solid sialon foundation turn to sand. A man who was struggling to recover his balance—but didn’t have a clue as to how.

  “We’ll stay. Even if it means your marines evict us from Port Authority en masse. Call us trespassers if you want.”

  “The entire planet belongs to The Corporation.”

  “Now, Captain, that’s where you, the Supervisor, the Boardmembers, and the whole shit-sucking Corporation are wrong.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Donovan belongs to Donovan. Some it kills, some it drives away, and some it takes to its heart and breast. The reason Port Authority is still here for you to claim is because we fought for it. For ourselves.” She paused. “The Corporation and our contracts? They were incidental.”

  “So, what’s with these Wild Ones?”

  “They belong to Donovan.”

  “Okay, so we’ve got the marines and the power of The Corporation. What have you got?”

  “I already told you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Talina dropped one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on her pistol butt. “Turn around. Look at me.”

  Taggart shifted, his hard blue eyes cold on hers.

  “That’s what we’ve got, Captain. The
fact that you don’t understand. You came waltzing down here after reading eight-year-old reports and found a self-governing colony . . . a whole world chugging along on its own. A place where The Corporation is irrelevant for the first time in over a hundred years. Man, you didn’t even know that a nightmare is a predator. Which, for Donovan, is pretty damn simple. What kind of shit do you think you’re going to be wading in when you come face-to-face with the complicated?”

  “Talk all you want, you can’t beat us.”

  “Don’t need to. Donovan will do it for us.”

  19

  The joke was, “Is Betty Able?” To which the wit replied, “Not only able, but ready, wet, and willing!”

  For a price.

  Dan sat at a table in the rear of Betty Able’s brothel parlor. The room was small by Earthly standards, having only three tables, a couple of couches, and a bar in the back by the door that led to the rooms.

  The building itself was of local manufacture, the walls built of hand-squared sandstone blocks, the wooden roof gabled, and a chabacho-wood plank floor underfoot. Refreshments consisted of whiskey, beer, and water. Unlike a similar establishment back in Solar System, neither mind-altering hallucinogens nor stamina-inducing pharmacopeia was offered.

  A circumstance Dan would figure out how to change were this his establishment to run.

  Unsurprisingly, the room was packed with Skulls—notably the ones who apparently hadn’t a chance at getting as lucky with the local women as he had with Allison. And here, Dan had chosen to open his game.

  He kept an eye on Betty Able where she dispensed drinks and took reservations for her two girls and the one young man. For the moment, all three were employed productively in the back rooms. And, older, tougher, and harder as she was, Betty could have been turning a trick or two herself but for lack of anyone to run the bar and take the money.

  To ensure that he was tolerated, Dan made a habit of buying a round of drinks each time his marks ran low. Across the table sat Jaimie O’Leary, shoulders hunched, eyes squinted at his cards. To the right Fig Paloduro tapped his fingers rhythmically—his tell that he had nothing in his hand. On the left sat Abdul Oman, lips pursed, black brows lowered as he stared first at his cards and then at the pot in the center of the table.

  And then there was Stepan Allenovich, the only local in the room. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, he’d emerged from the back, a toothpick protruding from the side of his mouth. Already intoxicated, he had given Betty Able a wink. Buying a beer, he’d pulled up a chair to watch Dan’s game, and of course, had finally bought in.

  Things were going well for a first night. In the beginning, Dan hadn’t been seated for ten minutes before Fig Paloduro walked in the door and peered around nervously. Dan had waved him over, calling, “Fig! Drinks are on me.”

  Fig, everyone knew, actually had a pretty good stash of cash. No one had made much of it since there wasn’t anything on Turalon to buy. But Fig had let it be known that he figured on using his stash to smooth his transition into a better life on Donovan, upgrade quarters, outfit himself with knickknacks, and enjoy a higher standard of living as was commensurate with his family’s wealth.

  “Call,” Dan said, laying down his three sevens.

  “Shit!” Allenovich cried tossing two pairs of threes and sixes on the table. None of the other hands were any better.

  Dan raked in the pot, calling, “Ms. Able, another whiskey for Mr. Paloduro, if you don’t mind.”

  He opened with a yuan as the others tossed in their bets. When she set Fig’s drink on the table, the hard-bitten madam lingered long enough to shoot Dan a look full of warning, curiosity, and unease.

  He handed her a ten yuan note in return, adding a “keep the change” motion that left no doubt but that he understood. As she palmed the money, she shot a suggestive glance at Allenovich; its meaning was clear: “Watch out for him.”

  Yeah, right. As if Dan hadn’t pegged the big local as the wrong guy to skin right off the bat. The cards seemed to purr as he shuffled and dealt. “Some trial, huh?”

  Allenovich shot a cold stare around the table, as if judging his companions’ culpability in the proceedings. “Crock of quetzal shit if you ask me. That cold witch of a Supervisor . . . she sure as shit wasn’t making no show. Not at the start. Wasn’t ’til she saw the shit about to blow that she backed down.”

  “Heard it was that Perez woman that stopped it,” Abdul said.

  “Yeah.” Allenovich grinned. “If she hadn’t kicked that chair in my way, I’d ’ave been up on that bar, face-to-face with that black-haired bitch as I shot her fool head off.”

  “How’d the marines take it?” O’Leary asked, throwing two in for the draw.

  “They was all shook,” Allenovich declared. “That Supervisor, too. She’s like a whole different woman after Tal stopped the riot. Looked like she just discovered a slug slipping into her foot. That sort of sick, pale, gonna puke look.”

  “Tal?” Dan asked.

  “Short for Talina.” Allenovich had a faint smile on his lips as he studied his three sixes and said, “Take two.”

  Dan dealt him a queen and a jack. Betty Able was watching from the corner of her eye. Time for Dan to show her he wasn’t a fool.

  “I owe that woman my life.” Allenovich pointed a finger for emphasis. “You soft meat, take my advice: Don’t mess with Talina. Tal don’t take no shit. She’s the law here, and she’ll kill you as soon as look at you. Not only can she take care of herself, but every man, woman, and child on this rock will back her to their last drop of blood. Same for Shig and Yvette.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Not that Dan hadn’t already listed her as a threat, but if he had to take her out, it would have to be done judiciously, smartly.

  “So,” O’Leary asked, “Perez killed Supervisor Clemenceau?”

  “Damn straight. Nightmare’s a terrible way to die. If it had been the other way, and Tal’d been snatched up? She’d a pleaded with Clemenceau for a bullet. Sorry prick that he was, it would have been just like him to have walked away and left her.”

  Dan folded, letting the rest play out. “I don’t notice a lot of yuan or SDRs floating around. And I don’t see a lot of credit transactions through implants. How do folks pay for things?”

  “There’s ways,” Allenovich said softly. “As time goes on, you’ll figure it out.”

  “Tell me about Talina Perez,” O’Leary said as he threw his cards in. “She got a man in her life?”

  “Had one,” Allenovich replied, tossing a long-crumpled ten SDR bill onto the table. “Any of you Skulls up to matching that?”

  “Fold,” Abdul said with a sigh.

  “Sure.” Fig shelled out ten. “And I’ll raise you ten.”

  If Dan hadn’t slipped in his shuffling, Fig should have two kings, two queens, and the ace of hearts against Allenovich’s three tens and a jack kicker.

  Allenovich wiggled the toothpick where it rested at the corner of his mouth. The man wanted to bet, ached to. Dan had seen it often enough. Allenovich had just tossed out the last of his cash.

  Then, slightly glazed eyes narrowing, he reached in his belt pouch and laid a little gold nugget atop his ten. “I’ll see you, and raise you twenty.”

  Dan kept his composure, but watched the others straighten.

  “As time goes on, you’ll figure it out.” No shit.

  Fig actually had a gleam in his eyes as he counted out yuans and SDRs. “See . . . and call.”

  As Allenovich laid out his three tens, Fig’s expression fell. The man was almost salivating as he watched that nugget hauled off the table and back into Allenovich’s pocket.

  Bill Jones emerged from the back, looking nervous. He gave Betty Able a nod as she told him, “Anything else we can do for you? Maybe a drink?”

  “Uh, no.”

  She was smiling gaily
as she said, “Well, you do come back and visit us again.”

  Jones somehow managed to make his way across the room to the door without meeting anyone else’s eyes.

  “Mr. O’Leary?” Able called. “If you’d like to follow me back, I believe Angelina’s about ready to receive you.”

  “Guess I gotta go,” O’Leary smirked as he stood.

  “You ask me,” Dan told him, “I’d say your leaving is more about coming than going.”

  That brought a hard laugh from Allenovich. Fig shot him a slightly disgusted look.

  “What about that Supervisor Aguila?” Allenovich asked. “She tight with that marine captain? Looked like they was more than just ‘associates’ up there at the bar this morning.”

  It was Fig who said, “Wasn’t so much as a word about her bedding down with anyone, man or woman, during the whole trip.”

  “And you can count out the good Cap Taggart.” Dan dealt the cards. “After Nandi and me called it quits, she was slicking her slit with Taggart’s dick.” He shot Allenovich a placid grin. “It’s always rather pleasing to know that you got to something before an officer. Talent before status.”

  Abdul said, “Too bad she chased you out of her quarters with a pistol.”

  “No shit?” Allenovich asked as he studied his cards.

  “No shit,” Abdul told him. “Chased old Dan, here, naked through the ship. Left him heartbroken.”

  Allenovich paused at that point. “Didn’t take you long to get over it, Cowboy. Just so you know, Allison’s had a hard time of it. You be damned careful to treat her right.”

  “Allison’s a jewel,” Dan replied. “You going to bet that money or talk?”

  Allenovich tossed out a yuan for his ante. “So the Supervisor’s been without for two whole years? You ask me, God didn’t give her that body just to turn it into a museum piece. That kind of equipment isn’t meant to be wasted. I might look her up, offer her a reminder of the better things in life.”

  Dan considered his cards. “Step, my suspicion is that it might be fun to play around with the packaging, but when push came to shove, you’d get the same effect if you fucked a block of ice.”