Chapter 60 The Legion of Despar
01
I've no excuse. I knew better.
Captain Blackie Bright's Dusty Queen had just arrived in orbit, and finding the Lost Star as a neighbor, he invited me to lunch with him and a number of fellow captains at the Star and Drift Club in Sanjoor proper. I thanked him, but said I was far from certain I'd be welcomed at the Star and Drift. The Lost Star is hated by the Despar Navy and was not very popular amongst true Desparians spaceers either. He assured me that there'd be no Desparian masters found at the Star and Drift, as they had their own club, the arrogant bastards. I was certain to find a welcoming crowd and so I'd blithely accepted his invitation.
I guess I was just too happy to think clearly. Only an hour earlier I'd received a long signal from Patrol Headquarters outlining the disposition of our case. In short, we were fined the balance of the bounty that would've been paid on the destruction of Explora Miner and we were free to go, unless we wished to challenge this ruling. And in an addendum from the special branch, we were encouraged to leave as soon as possible, as our continued presence was an annoying headache for them. The fine was a very substantial one, but put against the true value of the ship Min and the gang purchased from the Patrol, it dwindled to nothing and it left the vast charter fee D'Lay had paid intact. I'd not have kicked about any settlement we could afford, so this was nearly the best possible outcome. Now all I wanted to do was to put the drifts behind me just as soon as I could get my crew on board and the ship to the fueling station.
Unfortunately, the signal arrived after the bulk of my crew had departed for the southern continent of Pangoria in the long boat for a day on a wide warm beach. I debated calling them back, but decided to let them have their day downside – we'd a long voyage ahead of us.
And so, at last, without a care in the world – at least one I could recall at the time – I left the ship in charge of Barlan and Saysa, telling them that while I was invited for lunch, you never know how long these lunches lasted with a bunch of old ship captains, so not to expect me back anytime soon, and dropped down to Port Sanjoor in the gig. I snagged a flier and took it across the bay to the Star and Drift Club, high in one the clearsteel towers, looking forward to a meal that Blackie assured me, was every bit as fine as the ones at the Helm and Star on Zilantre.
Blackie had a gathered a rather congenial table of ship masters, and I'd only been able to tear myself away early in the evening.
Really, I should by rights be writing this from the far side of the event horizon.
It was bright and milky hot on the rooftop landing stage. Clouds hid the surface; the chain of suns were just bright spots in the haze. It was still hot. (It was always hot.) I'd been drinking cha the last hour to keep a fragment of my wits about me, for all the good it did me. I was still feeling grand, not so much from drink, but with the prospect of putting Despar astern after three solid months. I took a few deep breaths of the hot moist air, to clear my head, but it didn't help.
I boarded a waiting flier and directed the pilot to Port Sanjoor and settled back to enjoy the short flight.
The flier took off, and quickly descended into the dense, aroma laced clouds below and slowly made its way through the maze of towers, which wasn't right. Not if the flier was taking me to Port Sanjoor. Which, clearly, it wasn't. It was – I realized with a dart of panic – only what I deserved. I'd forgotten in my euphoria that I'd enemies. With Min gone and the crew confined to the ship, the urgency of that idea had lost its edge.
Nothing to do now, but to call the Patrol for help. My com link produced only static. Of course. Like the wharf rats, they had a jammer aboard. Standard procedure, I suppose, when you set out to kill someone. I shifted my little darter from my coat pocket to my right hand – I was going to have to hit someone this time – and waited. They'd have to come at me, though they'd only pay with headaches...
Five minutes passed as I cursed my stupidity, when looking out the misty flier window, I saw we were now just drifting over and around the rooftops of low factories and godowns, just scraping along, no doubt looking for a nice quiet place for murder. It struck me I might not want to wait to be murdered, so pocketing my darter I kicked the emergency release handle to open flier's hatch, and with a quick glance down, I leaped for a flat roof we were drifting over, not more than five meters below. Manageable in Despar's .5 gee gravity.
I slightly misjudged our speed and didn't quite miss a square metal vent in the roof. I bounced off the vent's edge, landed hard, and rolled with a dart of pain in my left shoulder where I'd struck the vent. The momentum from the flier carried me down the gentle slope of the roof to its edge. Fortunately, there was a low wall or gutter to prevent me from tumbling over the edge.
The flier, a vague darker shape in the mist, turned and headed back, its pilot leaning out of his side window, darter in hand. Crouching behind the low raised edge, I drew my little sissy, and snapped off several shots as the flier sailed slowly by, actually hitting the flier several times, sheathing it faintly in blue lightning. The pilot snapped off several shots of his own, wide of their mark, and deciding that he was the bigger target, shot upwards to disappear into the mist.
I rose and scrambled along the edge of the roof, searching for a way down. My com link produced nothing but static – it was still being jammed. I'd have to put some distance between me and the flier. My experience with jammers being limited, I wasn't sure what their range was, but I supposed the Legion would deploy the best. Still, I was alive. On the far side of the roof I found a small access shack with a door that, though locked, was rusted and rotten enough to open with a few kicks. I stumbled down into the hot darkness. I didn't know what type of security they had, but I'd likely prefer it to the alternative, the Legion of the New Order.
Below was a noisy factory or shop. The stairs lead to a network of catwalks and cranes over a large, steamy workshop. They were building or repairing some large machine in the smoky depths – the shop rang with loud clangs and I could see sparks flying about, but I didn't pause to give it more than a glance. I saw a set of steel stairs zig-zagging down the factory wall ahead so I took off, and reaching them, raced down, my pounding footfalls lost in the noise of the shop. Reaching the shop floor, I paused in the shadows of the stairs and stacks of crates to consider my next move. Was I safer here, or should I continue to run? My com link was still jammed – it struck me that they could likely trace me through its transmissions, so I turned if off until I could get clear and lost in Sanjoor long enough to call for help.
I consulted my gut, and found my gut didn't trust Desparians, even non-legionnaire Desparians, so I searched for a way out. There was a large open door in the wall to my right, ten meters away. That seemed my best bet. I forced myself to walk casually through the stacks of crates and tools towards it and slipped out into the walled-in storage yard beyond, filled with old parts and rusting stacks of raw materials. No one was about and no one seemed to notice me, or if they did, kept to their tasks. The yard was reached by an alley between tall factory walls but that gate was closed. I glanced around. It would have to be over the walls, if possible, so I sprinted across the open yard and slipped in amongst the stacks of materials working my way to the tall wall. My luck continued– I found the wall lined with climbable racks, and with my sore shoulder shooting darts of pain, I clambered up a wet, rusty rack of long metal bars. Reaching the top, I peered over the wall in the narrow lane below. Despar's .5 gee gravity made escape fairly easy – just a jump of five to six meters, and I'd be out.
The question was, when? Now or wait for darkness?
I was too wound up to wait. And the flier pilot had to know where I jumped, so they'd likely be converging on this factory right now. The sooner I put this section of Sanjoor behind me, the safer I'd be. Just as in Port Sanjoor, the lane below was narrow, fit only for foot and cycle traffic. It looked to be empty, so I slipped over the side and landed in the mud at the foot of the wall. I'd no idea where I
was and the lane faded to a dirty white curtain of mist at either end without a hint of what lay beyond, so I turned to starboard and started skipping along in the light gravity.
Like the space port, Sanjoor is really two cities, one in the towers and the other huddled at the feet of the towers. The huddled city is a maze of narrow lanes zig-zagging between narrow shops, walled market gardens and tenements. I soon came to a more trafficked lane, and dodged my way through the pedestrians and bewildering array of cycles that wove in and out of the pedestrians and the damp mist. I was looking for the base of a clearsteel tower in the hope that I could find a way in and reach the roof top flier stand. However, if there were any towers about, which I rather doubted, since I believe I'd been whisked off to the industrial suburbs, they were hidden by the mist overhead and behind the huddled tenements that towered over me.
It took them less than fifteen minutes to find me.
I'd slowed to a fast walk to catch my breath, figuring I'd put enough distance between me and my jump point to be fairly safe when I noticed a clump of men jogging towards me a short block away. They saw me, and immediately picked up their pace. I dodged to a narrow lane on my left, and took off running again. It zigged and zagged in deep shadow, mostly walls and a few dim-lit shops. In less than a minute it widened and brightened, opening onto what seemed a major street. But silhouetted across its entrance stood a line of wide, large and serious looking men. I pulled out my darter. They were big enough and as they leaped forward, they'd soon be close enough to be hard to miss, even for me.
A blast of hot air shot down and swirled about me. Overhead, the whining of jets. I leaped against the wall as a small flier squeezed in next to me. Its door swung up, barely missing me pressed against the wall. The seat was empty. I took that as an invitation and dived in. Worst case, there'd only be one Legionnaire to deal with, not a dozen. I'd barely gotten my trailing foot inside when the flier shot up, slamming the door down beside me. There were several flashes of blue light as I straightened myself in the seat and glanced at the pilot, a sleek spaceer in uniform and cap.
He spared me just a quick glance and a brief smile before concentrating on piloting the flier up and through the maze of buildings. 'You've made some enemies, Wil.' he said.
The voice was familiar. Startled, I stared, trying to place his face. Another quick glance my way – the slim face with the black, neatly trimmed mustache wasn't familiar, but those icy grey eyes were. 'Nadine,' I gasped.
She laughed, 'You've pierced my disguise with the ease of a lover's glance!'
'Neb...' I muttered again, incapable of a coherent thought. Luckily none was needed, as she slammed the flier forward through the mist, just high enough to keep it skimming over low rooftops and twisting down a series of narrow lanes with buildings looming in the mist on both sides.
'I'm touched that you remember my name. Spaceers usually have such short memories for the lovers they leave behind, and it's been ever so long...' she said giving me another quick glance while racing over a rare straight street, her eyes bright with sarcastic delight, her smile, under her mustache wide, but not quite cruel.
I'm sure there were many witty rejoinders to that line. “Not long enough” springs to mind, but only now. But in the moment, nothing bubbled to the surface. I settled for 'What are you doing here? I mean, here and now?'
She didn't answer until she'd made a couple of abrupt maneuvers, narrowly missing or flying over the low, ramshackle buildings on all sides. At the speed she was traveling, she was either an excellent pilot or was heavily relying on the collision avoidance system to get us through the maze. After a few moments of such flying, she pulled the flier up a little, content to skim over the low tenements and factories by several meters.
'What am I doing? I believe I'm saving you from being brutally beaten to death by the Legion of the New Order. You must tell me more about that, when we have a less hectic chance to talk...'
'Why?'
'Why what?' she shot back with a laugh.
I closed my eyes and tried to think clearly. I needed time...
'Why did you just save me from them? They were just going to save you the trouble... Dead is dead.'
'Because, Wil, I've traveled a very long way and paid a very steep price to catch up to you with one idea, to kill you slowly, and I've no intention of letting a pack of thugs beat me to it. Not after the price I've paid for the pleasure.'
I just stared at her. She gave me another wide smile, her eyes sparkling with cold delight. 'What do you think of my disguise?'
'You must have...' I began, intending to say taken the same Academy course as Leith D'Lay. but some intuitive jolt warned me not to say anything about him and what I'd learned about her or St Bleyth from Brother D'Lay. I couldn't say why or what use that knowledge would be, but I'd need any edge I could muster to get out of this with my life...
And then I recalled D'Lay's earnest advice to kill her if I ever was given the chance. I still had my little darter in my hand, held out of sight on my right side. She had both hands on the controls, so there seemed no barrier to using it on her. Sitting right next to me, she was within my effective range....
'I must have what?' she asked, jerking out of my thoughts.
'You must have thought me blind, if you thought that mustache would fool me,' I improvised. 'Now can you take it off? It's creepy.'
'It fooled you at the Star and Dust, though you were rather brightly lit when I walked by you,' she replied with a laugh, 'And you'll just have to put up with it until we get to my lair.'
'You were at the Star and Dust?'
'Amazing what a cap, a badge and an arrogant stare will do for you. I walked by your table and tagged you, a good thing too, since it enabled me to follow your recent escapades.'
I put a hand to the back of my neck.
'I just tagged your coat collar,' she laughed. 'I was planning on following you and having this fond reunion at your gig. My improvised plan was to bring a poor drunken Captain Litang back to his ship in your gig, as a personal favor. Once aboard, I'd take care of my business with Min and if events permitted, take you off again for a long conversation.'
'How long have you been on Despar?' I asked, curious to know if she ever had a chance at Min.
'I only arrived 51 hours ago, aboard the Rusa Rock. I'm signed on as cook.'
'As a cook?'
She spared me a quick glance and a bright smile. 'One of my many talents. I'm a wizard with a food synth. In my trade, being a good chef will often get you into places that might otherwise be very hard to penetrate. I've been busy making arrangements, but when dear ol'Cap'n Flory mentioned that he was dining with Captain Litang, who had destroyed Despar's pet berserker, I realized I'd been handed my chance on a gold platter. It was only the second lucky break I've had since I met you. Signing on as cook on the Rusa Rock was the first. Anyway, I slipped downside and invited myself to the Star and Dust to meet the hero of the day amongst the anti-Despar faction.'
'And knowing that I destroyed a berserker bare handed, you still wanted to try to kill me? Wouldn't it have been safer to let the Legion do it?'
She laughed, 'I haven't a choice, Wil. You're mine to kill.'
My darter was still hidden in my right hand. She still had both hands on the flier's controls, so I had options, if I wanted to live, but Neb blast if I could see any way to get myself clear. If I stunned her, I'd have to rely on the flier's autopilot to keep us from crashing while I – somehow – replaced her in the pilot's seat. In the small cockpit, that would be very awkward and all the time the flier would be flying unattended. Moreover, I couldn't be certain she'd put the Legion far enough behind us that I'd even have the time. And then what? My little sissy had only non-lethal darts so killing her would involve dumping her from a sufficient height and then running to the Patrol HQ with my tale of being pursued by the Legion, saved by an assassin, and killing the assassin... Not a tale I relished telling to the Patrol, since I likely couldn't pro
ve a thing against her and if I admitted killing her, well, Despar did, I believe, have laws against such a thing, which, given my current popularity here, I might as well let the Legion have their way with me and save everyone a lot of bother. Moreover, I was far from sure the Patrol wouldn't treat me any differently. Taking the law into one's own hands is frowned on, and doing it habitually will get you in deep trouble. So, as a known gun runner, I doubted the Patrol would treat me kindly. Just stunning her, dropping her off on some roof top, might solved the immediate problem, but nothing in the long run...
I glanced at her. She was smiling slightly under that creepy mustache. She seemed to be concentrating on her piloting since we were flying low again – I could see the hazy forms of walls, smokestacks and buildings shooting by us within an arm's span at times, still I had the feeling she was watching me out of the corner of her eye.
'Afraid of heights?' I asked, just to give me a few more seconds to decide.
'Just making sure the Neb-blasted Legion can't follow us,' she replied carelessly, adding with a sarcastic smile, 'I've had to change my plans because of them. They'll be waiting around your gig, so I think it's time for a long conversation. We had so little time to... talk, last time.'
Even with those chilling words, I realized I couldn't kill her. I wasn't like her and didn't want to be like her. I still wasn't enough of a drifteer to kill in cold blood. Yet. I'd just have to escape, but this wasn't the time.
'Well, it's not like I invited you to follow me. I seem to recall advising you to run instead. To start a new life.'
'I remember. Your concern was quite touching.'
'Speaking of concern, I've occasionally wondered how your husband fared? I trust he's recovered from his wounds.'
She laughed lightly. 'Poor Max. Did you know he was born and bred in New Prusza? The poor sod. So you can imagine the vast embarrassment he's had to endure after first challenging the lover of his wayward wife and then losing the honor duel. And losing it against a Unity standard wimp of a spaceer. The horror! The shame! The poor, arrogant fool could barely find a reason to carry on. We didn't part on friendly terms,' she added brightly.
'Did they get his hand reattached?'
'I didn't linger long enough to know if they succeeded or not. He had a large cast over it when we parted. He had to take off his shoes to count to six,' she laughed, adding with a shake of her head, 'Local talent, Wil. Local talent. That says it all,' and the smile faded.
'I was once considered very good, myself. Once. But now, I'm hardly better than that poor idiot Max. I've no future at all – once I kill you and Min I might as well walk out of an air lock, my future's that grim. And it all began when I first crossed orbits with you.' She gave me the icy glance I remembered so well. 'We've got a lot to discuss, you and I.'
'You can still start a new and better life, if you care to. The Nebula is wide.'
'No I can't. I'm bound by my code of ethics...'
My trigger finger twitched, but I forced myself to let it pass...
'Well, I've seen what that leads to...' I replied, too soft for her to hear.
We didn't say anything more for several minutes, while she tossed the flier this way and that to avoid great looming walls. We were low again. Then she abruptly dropped the flier down into the deep shadows of a small space between two hulking buildings.
'My Despar headquarters,' she said, once more bright, adding with a leer, 'My lair.'
'Rather basic,' I noted, looking at the sheer walls on all sides.
'Warehouses. Despar Navy warehouses,' she laughed. 'They've been sealed and secured by the Patrol, so they're essentially abandoned, but secure from casual visitors.'
'The Patrol doesn't mind you using them?'
'They don't seem to. I go in and out as I please. I really am good at arranging these sorts of things,' she laughed, opening the flier's hatches and slipping out. I stepped out on my side into the damp shadowed space. She was already around the back of the flier, holding her darter pointed at me.
'I'll take your darter, Wil, since you seem to have no use for it. And I'll have your com link too.'
I handed over my darter and as I slowly undid the com link I considered my options. I braced myself for the lunge.
'Don't even think about it. I'll stun you and drag you in by your feet. There are lots of stairs to climb so you'd have one Neb-blasted headache when you'd come too,' She pocketing my darter while keeping hers aimed at my chest.
I handed over my com link. The one lesson D'Lay had taught me that I have taken to heart is, don't fight losing battles.
'Really, Wil. I gave you a chance,' she said, stepping back and looking at me. 'Why didn't you take it?”
'Did you, Nadine? I doubt you're that big a fool.'
She smiled coldly, watching me. 'Perhaps, perhaps not. Still, you could've tried.'
I shook my head, 'You'd just saved my life. I could hardly turn around and kill you, could I? I have my code of ethics too. The real question is why you gave me even the slightest chance?'
She shrugged. 'Because I know your type – Unity Standard. I knew you'd be far too civilized to shoot me, though your life actually depended on it. A minor gamble. A game. And you lost. For as long as you cling to life, you'll always wonder if you could've avoided the pain of the death I've in mind for you, if you had the courage to try.'
'No good deed goes unpunished.'
'Indeed. And punished you will be,' she said with icy glee – her eyes now eager, cold, grey and bright. 'Let's get out of this rain,' she added, indicating a small door, dwarfed by a vast wall.
She walked backwards ahead of me, did something at the door with her free hand, and we entered without setting off any alarms. With a warning to do exactly what she directed or be darted, we walked, she several meters behind, carefully through the vast warehouse filled to the dim roof with rows and rows of racks filled with sealed pallets. I didn't think any attempt to escape would stretch more than a meter before she shot me, so I walked as directed. A stack of offices rose to the ceiling in the center of the warehouse and she directed me up the open staircase that ran up the side of this stack to the top story, and into a small set of offices just under the roof.
'My digs,' she said with a sweep of her hand as we entered an office with windows overlooking the dim lit expanse of naval supplies.
02
She closed the door behind us, settled on the edge of the long desk/control panel below the window and slipped her darter into a holster under her jacket. She carefully peeled off the mustache.
'Thank you. A vast improvement.' Charm, Litang, charm, I told myself.
She smiled, but said, 'Unfortunately, Wil, I'm pressed for time, at least on this end of the operation, so this is how it's going to lift. I need to get to Min, and that means getting aboard the ship. You're my ticket for that...'
I quickly debated whether or not to tell her she'd missed Min, but decided that she'd likely not believe me, and if she did, well, I was then no use to her. Better to play along, for now.
'How do you figure that will lift?'
'Well, you could just invite me aboard for a few drinks...'
'Sure. Why not. You just saved my life, I certainly owe you a drink or two,' I replied, being as agreeable as I could, just to make her uneasy.
She gave me a look and said, 'I think it'd be better if you were unconscious when we arrive. So here's how it'll lift. I'll have just saved you from being beaten to death by a gang of toughs, which, curiously enough is the truth,' and adding with a laugh. 'Only you'll be in very bad shape, more dead than alive. You'll be unconscious so I'll have to bring you up to the ship myself. Arriving more dead than alive should bring your Min running, and well, that should complete my assignment. Depending on how things play out, I'm hoping to continue this conversation by bringing you back as a hostage to keep your shipmates from alerting the Patrol. This time the plan’s nice and simple.'
'Then why didn't you just leave the legionnai
res to work me over and just save me in the nick of time? It'd be the truth and would pass the AI lie detector on the vid call to the ship.'
'Ah, Wil, you don't know how long I've looked forward to our time together. I wasn't about to be denied the pleasure of making you pay for what you've done to me. If I had missed you and they had gotten to you first, I'd have been very, very disappointed. By the way, what did you do to get them so riled up? '
'I didn't do anything. The Legion is convinced that the berserker they hired would've defeated the whole Patrol. It captured us but we managed to disable it and destroy it, so now they're blaming us for their entire defeat. Totally ridiculous, the Patrol could've taken on the berserker.'
'I'm impressed. My Wil, defeating Despar all by himself...'
'I didn't do a Neb blasted thing. My tech hacked the damn thing long enough for your St Bleyth mercenaries to hack its cyber brain into small pieces.'
'And yet, they blame you.'
'Someone has to take the blame for the mistakes they made. Is there any logic in the drifts? Does anyone take responsibility for their actions?'
'You're my responsibility, my dear Wil. And I'm going to live up to it. Eventually,' she added with an icy leer.
'So why are you angry with me? Neb, you'd be in Felon's Rift right now if I had chosen to protest your attempt on my life after the duel.'
'I could've killed you and likely gotten away. Lontria has many bolt-holes...'
'Why didn't you?'
She shrugged. ‘You’re not my prime target. Min is. Your value – and you only need to be a corpse to be of value – is that I can use you to reach Min. But I couldn't do that from a bolt-hole. I hoped for another chance before you sailed.'
'Well, I can hardly be blamed for not giving you that chance. Nor did I report the incident to the Guard or the Patrol. Really, Naylea, I don't see that you can blame me for anything at all.'
'Naylea? Why did you call me that?'
I looked at her. 'It's your real name, isn't it? Naylea Cin, it's a pretty name.'
'How do you know that?' she asked, momentarily at a loss, then, 'D'Lay of course.'
'Aye, an old friend from your school days. My, you've made enemies, my dear,' I said. I didn't know where I was going with this or why, but it would give her something to wonder about. 'I'm told that you had such promise. Is this the promise, Naylea?'
She sat staring at me for a moment, and then taking a pair of gloves out of her jacket pocket said, 'I did have promise. More than promise, I was the best at what I did. I was skillful enough to successfully operate in the Unity for years. That level of skill is very rare. But thanks to you, I've had to leave my field of expertise and follow you into the drifts.'
With her gloves on, she reached down and picked up a leather covered rod from a gear bag next to the desk, and standing up, continued quietly. 'Getting to La Trina in a sleeper-pod was expensive, but painless. Tourists, however, don't visit Zilantre nor do company ships and Unity tramps take on casual passengers or crews. There are a few scheduled emigrant liners that serve Zilantre, but that would have entailed waiting several months. So if I wanted to catch up to you, I had to sign on as crew member on a drifteer trader. Being in a hurry, I wasn't fussy, and ended up as pursuer, cook, and general hand on a dirty little tramp manned by a dirty little crew of lecherous half-wits. I made it very clear early on that I wasn't interested in sharing my dirty little cabin with any of them, and had to remind them of that on almost a daily basis, often with more than a look or a word.... 123 days of going about my duties with a darter in my pocket – always careful to keep my back to a bulkhead when I was out of my dirty little cabin...'
She stepped closer and without warning, lashed out with the rod in her hand – I managed to take the blow on my arm where the armored jacket and shirt that I now always wear downside these days, somewhat dulled the pain of the blow. Still, I yelped, ever anxious to appease an angry, sadistic assassin, while falling back out of range, for the moment.
'I'm sorry,' I said, and would have added more, but she cut me off.
'Oh, quit your crying, I've not even begun. It'll sting a lot sharper when I get those armored clothes off of you,' she snapped, but paused, staring grimly off into space,
'When I arrived on Zilantre I found that D'Lay had borrowed you and your ship, so I had to wait to find out where I had to go next. Shunned by the members of the Order – who knew of my failures – I waited until word of D'Lay's disaster and your arrival in Despar orbit reached us. Finding a berth to Despar wasn't easy. Not a lot of ships were sailing there. Eventually, I had a bit of luck when dear old Captain Flory took a fancy to me – or rather to my cooking – and offered the cook's berth aboard his small trader, the Rusa Rock, so I made it here unmolested...
'I'm used to being disliked, hated. But even so, those 123 days of being trapped with those beady little men and shunned on Zilantre...' She stopped, and lunging, slashed, striking my already sore shoulder and sending a bolt of pain up my arm as I stumbled away from her. I yelped for real.
'What got me through all those endless dark days and months,' she continued quietly – she was toying with me, 'was dreaming of the day when I'd have you in my power – when I'd have you exactly where you are right now. And what I'd do to you when I did. How I'd make you pay for destroying my career, my reputation, and sometimes even my self-esteem... Do you know what my future holds because of you?'
I shook my head no.
'Now, thanks to you, well this is the future I'm likely facing,' she said, and then with a deeper voice continued, play acting the part of a vid thug, 'You were sent to collect 20 credits, (striking me,) Willy. But you collected 30 (slash) but you only turned over 20. (slash) Are you going into business yourself, Willy?' (slash, slash) I was trying, and mostly failing to dodge or deflect the blows.
'Well, you get the idea, I'll be lucky to be hired out as an enforcer for some drifter gang all because you didn't die when you should have.'
'You can hardly blame me for that,' I gasped, earning another glancing blow as I tried to slip out of the way, 'You missed...'
'And you defeated Max. That should have been a sure thing, but Max was a buffoon.'
'Buffoon or not, it was your own overelaborate plan and your local talent. And don't forget, you failed as well because you couldn't resist being overelaborate and tipping me off with your melodramatics before the duel,' I have no idea why I was going on like this, why I seemed intent on making her mad, or madder with me. I guess I didn't like being blamed for something that was hardly my fault.
'Now, if you would've run as I advised, you could be living a new life. But no, you set out to follow us to the drifts. Your code of ethics... I can hardly be blamed for every mistake you've made...'
She delivered a few more blows, the tip of her tongue on her lips, her eyes bright with pleasure. 'I seem to be able to blame whomever I want. All because you lived when you should have died.'
I bit back, because you missed. And failed, two more times, and said instead, 'Sorry.'
'You will be. You'll pay...'
'Why? It's your superiors who have condemned you. But I suppose they can't be touched. 'Still, that's no reason to kill me. I know nothing about your client, nor does Min. And if we were really important, why didn't the Order act here on Despar, if not on Zilantre? I know they have people available. Instead, you had to endure those dirty little men because they'd not lift a finger to help you. I can see why you're angry – but not at me.'
'Aye, I'm being punished for my failures, no doubt about that. And yes, you don't count, but you had a share in my fall and you can be touched...' she paused to illustrate that point again. 'Min, on the other hand, still counts, and I can use what's left of you to get to her. Otherwise, you're worthless, a loose end to be tied up. Failure must not only be punished, but covered up as well. You aren't targeted by an assassin of St Bleyth and live to tell about it. You're on the company's account, not the client's.'
'I won't say a word about it. Promise,' I replied, scurrying around the small office trying to keep a safe distance from her.
'Damnit, Litang, are you going to stand and fight, or just whimper and cower like some Unity Standard puppy? Are you afraid of this little riding crop? You were brave enough when you faced Max who was out to kill you with a blade...'
'I'm more afraid of you, Naylea. I had a chance with Max. I don't with you,' I replied. Which was true enough. I had no expertise in martial arts beyond twin blade fencing, and if all those dirty small men couldn't get the best of her in four months, I wasn't likely to either. My only chance was to snatch my darter out of her jacket pocket, and I'm sure she knew that. I could see the anger in her eyes, but there was more than a bit of play acting in them as well. She was a cruel, grey-eyed cat, and I, the little ship mouse she was playing with, batting me around with her paws, waiting for me to do something that she could pounce on.
'Besides, on Lontria I was fighting for your honor against your cruel lout of a husband. I was motivated. But against you, my dear...' I left it hanging, with a hopefully winning smile.
She was watching me intently now, searching for the lie. Perhaps she didn't find it, because she smiled, 'Oh, I make allowances for you, Wil. It'll make what I must do so deliciously bittersweet.' She illustrated that point with another lunge and stinging blow. 'I felt a little of that pain too,' she said with a wicked sigh. And struck me again.
Even with a grandmother from the drifts, I'm a pretty Unity Standard fellow. Even as a spaceer, I shared the Unity's population's broad characteristic, which is to say, I was accustomed to security, at least downside, and predisposed to be easygoing, friendly, accommodating, and tolerant. There seemed some sort of strange fondness between Cin and me. I saw it – occasionally – in her eyes. It wasn't friendship, but whatever it was, at whatever level it existed, and for that matter, why it existed at all – it prevented me from taking Cin's threats completely at her word. She wasn't play acting with her blows, they were meant to hurt, but well, that was Cin, the sadist – yet even so, my Unity Standardness was inclined to let that ride. As for her threats, I had to take them seriously, but there seemed a certain vein of reluctance in them, which I might find a way of exploiting. All of which, I suppose, are just feeble excuses for cowering, yelping with the blows and sliding away from a slip of a woman armed with only a short, leather bound rod.
'Still, you should try,' she snapped, suddenly growing impatient.
'I don't fight battles I can't win,' I panted, and added with a Unity Standard smile, 'And I wouldn't want to hurt you, my dear.'
She smiled grimly. 'But I want to hurt you,' she said, and launched a furious attack, landing stinging blows on my exposed neck, and shielding hands circling around the room. Her eyes dared me to try the door... And when I didn't she lost patience and planted a boot in my midriff, sending me flying into the corner, a heap of pain, gasping for breath.
'I think your face needs to be mussed up a bit. This is actually going to hurt...'
I hadn't the breath to reply. I didn't even look at her. I waited. Sprawled out as I was, she'd have to lean over to hit my face, and if I could take a few blows, I hoped to be able to grab her and bring her down on top of me. And if I could reach her jacket pocket... I watched her feet approach and covered up my head...
She lunged and landed a blow to my groin which took what little breath I had acquired, curling me into a ball in pain. She aimed a blow for the side of my head but it missed and landed on my shoulder, I could hear the swish of the rod as it swung by my head.
And then, 'Damn!' and she stopped.
I was in too much pain to care.
'Blast and damn! We've company.' I heard her mutter. Her com link must have alerted her to some tell-tales being tripped somewhere. She turned and stepped over to the desk and console.
'The Patrol.' I managed to groan. 'I'll make you a deal.'
'Not the Patrol, your pals, the bloody Neb-damned Legion. They must have tagged you too,' she snarled, turning to glare at me.
'Or your flier,' I muttered, still gasping for breath, but unwilling to be blamed for one more Neb-blasted thing I didn't do. 'Doesn't matter, the Patrol will be here in minutes. There are alarms ringing in Patrol headquarters as we speak.'
'I'm afraid not. They haven't tripped the building's alarms. They tripped the alarms I installed when I took possession. The Patrol was rather careless in securing this facility. I had no problem getting around the system and making this my base and the Legion seems to have no problem nullifying their alarm system either. Which, I suppose, is not surprising since this was one of their warehouses and we are dealing with their special branch. We'll just have to deal with the Legion without the help of the Patrol.'
'Why?' I asked, finally able to look up at her. 'Trip the Patrol's alarm and let them deal with the Legion. I'll give you cover. You rescued me from the Legion. They know me and I'll give them some sort of story about being chased here. It's close enough to the truth,' I said hopefully. 'I'll keep you clear of the Patrol – I owe you that much.'
'You owe me so much more, Litang. But how would we explain how we got in here? They've suppressed the Patrol alarms in any case. I can deal with the Legion. The question is what am I to do with you?' she said as she drew her darter and aimed it at my head, biting her lower lip. 'Am I to be denied my pleasure?' she quietly asked herself. And closed her eyes to find the answer.
'I suggest we just postpone it,' I ventured softly. 'How far can you lug a corpse?'