Pacts of Desperation

By Thomas Gunning

The Great Exodus that swept humanity across the galaxy is over. The tide turned, and retreat followed. One of its high-water marks was the Talon Cluster, a trinary star system far out on the rim.
Isolated, the three Talons and their populated worlds struggle to regain technology and build ties with each other. Led by the Harriers, who rediscovered hyperspace “chunnels,” and the technology obsessed elves of Somerset, progress is slowly made.
But danger grows. The Confederation of AlliedWorlds gobbles up independent planets. Its next target is Belfrey, a green world where the Tiara rules a fractious tribe.
Those pulled into the crisis include:
* Caitaliné Talavera of Troop Morgan, a three-time Harrier combat champion whose heart is pinched between blood oath and blood contract.
* Alexis DeWinter, the Confederation’s best general, whose invasion of Belfrey seems a resounding success. * Maggie Herndon, the ship captain whose trading routine conceals her role as the Harrier's top intelligence agent.
DeWinter’s invasion, backed by the Tiara’s domestic foes, brings these three women and their companions to Belfrey. The only way to defeat the Confederation is to recruit the elves of Somerset, despite their longstanding neutrality.
And so the fate of Belfrey, and every independent planet in the Talon Cluster, will be decided by unlikely "Pacts of Desperation."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Gunning
• Release date: Dec 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301314195

Thomas Gunning

Thomas Gunning is Content Managing Editor for Omaha's Pioneer Publishing & PioneerMedia Inc. He wrote "Pacts of Desperation"; "Stirring Up the Animals: An Evening With H.L. Mencken," a one-person play, and "The Game of Clouds and Rain," a collection of his essays and newspaper columns. He was a military journalist before editing newspapers in South Dakota, Iowa and Nebraska. He won the Nebraska Associated Press Association’s Best Column award, and spent four years as executive editor of Weddingpages, Inc., where he published twice-yearly bridal magazines in the nation's 50 top markets. He is writing "Hound of Winter," the sequel to "Pacts of Desperation." "Stirring Up the Animals" will be published on Smashwords.com this autumn. His blog, "Pardon & Mirth," can be found at www.thomasgunning.com. He resides in Omaha, NE.

Book preview

Pacts of Desperation

Thomas Gunning

Published by Thomas Gunning, Copyright 2015

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment. Please do not re-sell or give it away.

If you want to share this book, purchase additional copies.

Go to Smashwords.com or the other website you got it from. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated. This book and its characters are fictional.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to places and events, is purely coincidental.

Cover by Vila Design

Contents

Part One: Talon Cluster

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part Two: Burren & Reek

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Part Three: Torn Balance

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Dear Reader

For my boys: Camden James Anderson,

Colin Thierry Gunning, Cooper Thomas Anderson

and Jaxson Hubert Anderson

Free men are aware of the imperfection inherent in human affairs, and they are willing to fight and die for that which is not perfect. – Eric Hoffer

Part One: Talon Cluster

"One never knows how loyalty is born." – Robert Morse

Chapter 1

Albuquerque, Gamma Talon

Albuquerque’s yellow dust was like a second skin. When Caitaliné Talavera wiped sweat from her forehead, it left a dark streak of grime. Her dark brown hair was knotted and hung limp and dirty down her back. She had cut off the sleeves and leggings of the blue Harrier fatigues.

The many ridged combat scars, including a recent one on her left calf, could just be seen under the dust. She tugged at the weapons harness where it chaffed her ribs and shoulders.

A young woman in a yellow Temple caftan stumbled and slumped against the tracker. Talavera dropped her processor and grabbed the woman before she could reach the ground.

Careful. C’mon, let’s get you up.

The woman, a baby strapped across her chest, barely acknowledged Talavera before she pulled away to stumble onward. Talavera bent to retrieve the processor.

Talavera eyed the people straggling past. She knew she was lucky – she had the tracker and wasn’t on foot like the poor civilians she shepherded.

Initially, the Albuquerque Contract went well for Talavera and the Harriers of Troop Morghan. The Albuquerque populace was restive under the Confederation-imposed government and willingly followed their Temple elders into rebellion.

With coordination from Troop Morghan, several government strongholds fell, including the main spaceport. Rebels also captured four provincial capitals. That left only Durham, the planetary capitol, and its subsidiary spaceport.

But the rebellion’s success was short-lived. Talavera knew the Temple elders could succeed only if there was no off-planet intervention. No one realized how many ships the Confederation of Allied Worlds would commit against them. Talavera’s handful of stationary eye-and-ear relays barely saw the Confederation battle squadron emerge from hyperspace before the relays went dark.

General Alexis DeWinter landed hundreds of mercenaries, Marines and Orsino regulars at Durham, and then made larger dead-stick landings at provincial capitals. Although this left the lighters without fuel, such quick strikes let DeWinter gain the initiative.

Unnerved rebels retreated at some sites, were defeated or destroyed at others, and soon lost control of the planet. The Confederation had gambled on DeWinter’s expertise and won big.

Commander Yang, four hundred mercenaries reported heading your way. Please respond, Talavera transmitted.

She watched from a hilltop south of the spaceport as an Albuquerque armored squad raced back to assault Yang. Yang had decoyed the Albuquerque troops into the wrong valley, but if she was pushed back over the ridge, Yang would be trapped. Talavera’s processor buzzed.

It’s no report, Caitey, Ardent Yang said. They engaged us from the northwest. I’ll break contact and scatter turfmines to slow pursuit. Then sprint to the spaceport. Ask Jake for help. Respond please.

Talavera looked to where Captain Jacob Parker, Troop Morghan’s commander, was huddled with his senior gunner, two sub-contracted commanders and a Temple Mouth, whose mirrored glasses flashed with every gesture.

Parker had pulled his tracker aside to let the frightened mob stream past. He had long black hair and was badly sunburnt. A puckered scar stretched from his left temple over the eye to his mouth. A patch of Clan Yamamoto tartan covered the emptied socket. Talavera knew she shouldn’t distract him. She keyed her processor.

Commander Yang, we’ll leave a squad two kilometers this side of the spaceport, Talavera said. We’re at the top of the ridge four kilometers from the spaceport. What’s your estimated time of arrival? Respond.

Our lead element is a kilometer from the highway, the rearguard three, with another seven to the spaceport, Yang replied. The civilians are gasping like fish. Let’s say an hour for us to reach the two-kilometer mark. Respond.

Ardent, unless they’re Temple elders or a Temple Mouth, let them fall. We’ll be waiting. Talavera ends.

A grunt was Yang’s only acknowledgment. Talavera pushed the processor into its boot-top holster and let her extenders swing on their leash.

Shepherding the rebels was a grinding nightmare far worse than its physical demands. Talavera, as Troop Morghan’s pilot and astrogator, was responsible for hyperspace navigation, which most Harriers viewed as magic. They were leery of those who conjured it. Adept with any weapon, particularly hands and feet, Talavera was, as Parker said, a shadow moving through twilight. Troop Morghan’s people bragged of her combat skills, but she made them uncomfortable.

So Talavera took her leaves alone. She hitched rides on Harrier vessels, searching for physical challenges among the Talon Cluster. As Harrier combat champion three straight years, even TransFlt captains welcomed her aboard because she tutored their crews in hand-to-hand combat and navigation.

As a result, she spelunked deep caves on Alpha’s Tangier, kayaked remote rivers on Wellington in Beta, and parasailed Walden’s Olympus Range in Gamma.

Her favorite sport was one-on-one cat fights in stripped-down stingers over Wellington’s rolling plains. The winged stingers would twist and turn near the speed of sound as they chased each other, sensors recording each hit.

Hole in the Wall, the Harrier command center, was buried in Wellington’s largest moon, and play-by-play of her cat-fights often were broadcast to the Hole and throughout Beta Talon.

The Talon Cluster was discovered by cartographer Hermione Ingrid Simone about 2,500 years before. How it got its fanciful name was unknown. According to the Belfrey storytellers, the constellation looked like a claw or talon to Simone.

Data from space-based telescopes sparked the interest of star systems seeking usable real estate. The keplers searched for inhabitable planets by measuring the atmospheric composition of distant star systems. At such distances, keplers could not confirm the existence of moons, major comets or massive rings like those orbiting Somerset in Alpha Talon.

Distant stars that lacked lithium, like Old Sol, were the first examined. The keplers sought rocky – terrestrial – planets composed of high-boiling-point materials and a core of alloy or iron. Such planets contain little in the way of volatile elements and are usually smaller, closer to the parent sun and with fewer satellites.

Colonization ships were sent via hyperspace chunnels because all three Talons had probable life planets. But the signatures of those chunnels were later lost because they shifted. They differed greatly from the intersystem chunnels used among the three Talons.

Talavera knew DeWinter should not be in Gamma Talon. Maggie Herndon, a top Harrier intelligence agent, had told her DeWinter was taking home leave in Alpha Talon.

Talavera knew the three Talons were almost empty, and nearby space even emptier. Such knowledge usually did not bother her. But as Troop Morghan’s position on Albuquerque unraveled, the emotional twilight deepened.

*****

Standing in her tracker with extenders up, Senior General Alexis DeWinter, commander of the Confederation’s Second Marine Regiment, watched Albuquerque militia pry Harriers from a slope of stunted pines. None of the Harriers surrendered or survived.

General, we have a victory, a thick Albuquerque accent crowed over the processor net. These Harriers have a strong first bite, but it’s only a matter of time before they wear down.

DeWinter thumbed her processor.

Harriers have more than one bite, Captain Blutanski. They’re taking casualties for a reason. Order your two squads off the back slope to the highway. I’ll take the squads on this side to look into the next valley. Reply.

Yes, General, Blutanski said. The squads are moving. Reply, please.

DeWinter out.

This wasn’t her battle, of course. Senior generals did not directly command battalion-level operations. She was on Albuquerque with only a few of her staff – the rest were on Tangier preparing for her next battle. But DeWinter took over when the Albuquerque commander strolled into the path of a Temple bullet and the Harriers sprinted toward the spaceport.

Two of DeWinter’s aides were with Albuquerque squads on the valley’s back slope. Major Tariq St. John, her chief of staff, and two squads of Tangier mercenaries raced wide eastward to block Talavera and Troop Morghan from the spaceport.

DeWinter had soldiered for twenty years, first for Tangier in Alpha Talon and now for the Confederation of Allied Worlds. DeWinter’s climb in rank, reputation and success was meteoric.

As a Marine, DeWinter preferred dirt underfoot. Although she commanded in space and did it well, her métier was ground combat. She exemplified the Confederation Marine motto, Semper Primus: Always First.

DeWinter turned to the senior Albuquerque officers standing beside her tracker.

Major Arkadian, I want to look into the next valley in four minutes.

Yes, General, the mortars have their range now. If these Harriers don’t retreat, they die from above, Arkadian said, a processor pressed against his ear.

The other officers murmured agreement.

Major, I said four minutes. Get your militia up that ridge. Now.

Ignoring his glowering companions, Arkadian forwarded DeWinter’s order.

She lifted her extenders and ignored them.

Despite her uniform of black and green leather, Albuquerque’s heat had little impact on DeWinter. With her black hair brushed straight back, sweat dripped onto her neck, not her pale face. She wore a diamond stud above the right nostril. A marked epithetic fold made her dark gray eyes slant upward like those of a cat.

DeWinter came to Albuquerque after a meeting with First Counsel Tanglewood of Orsino. Tanglewood led the Confederation of Allied Worlds, which dominated Gamma Talon. Despite its stature, the multi-planet Confederation had no vast armada of faster-than-light ships – no one did, not even Harriers.

As a result, although war covered vast distances, battles were fought retail. In military operations among the three Talons, ship totals rarely topped two dozen, and resulting dirtside operations exceeded 10,000 troops only twice in twenty-five years.

Yet even such limited combat occurred only after the rediscovery of hyperspace chunnels between the three Talons. Before that, the only predators were one’s neighbors in the same system. The chunnel hopper ships lacked sophisticated life support systems, which made them damp, cold and uncomfortable. But they could mount weapons and transport things from one Talon to the next. As primitive as they were, they were the basis of Harrier success.

The three Talon star systems relied on the two Harrier fleets – OpsFlt and TransFlt – to spread technology, wealth and information. With nearly two hundred hyper-capable ships, the Harriers had more hyper capacity than anyone else. They added six or seven ships each year.

But the new ones just replaced those lost to pirates, engineering failures or jumped wrong and gone – catastrophic navigation errors. Such losses were particularly heavy for Clan Isadore, the Harrier clan that specialized in locating and mapping new intersystem chunnels.

Yet one fact was acknowledged – those inhabited planets with the most nearby chunnels always saw economic growth. Such growth was encouraged by the Harriers, who sought open markets, whether their goods were luxury items, technological relics, operational leadership or mercenaries.

DeWinter had destroyed Troop Morghan’s ships. She reminded herself that, even if she didn’t catch the Harriers at the spaceport, she still had surprises waiting for them in low orbit.

DeWinter smiled. The Albuquerque officers were left to nervously wonder what pleased her.

*****

Talavera saw Parker give the Temple Mouth a hard stare and turn away. The Temple elders’ initial optimism had become shrill claims of incompetence from their Mouths and included threats to cancel Troop Morghan’s contract.

Senior Gunner Pike Kozlowski, whose black skin seemed to swallow the heat, pushed the Temple Mouth back into the flow of refugees.

Talavera knew their tactical situation was bad – with fewer than three hundred and fifty troopers to push the mob along, Parker could not outrun DeWinter unless he risked Yang and her decoys.

Talavera sidestepped exhausted civilians to reach Parker. He acknowledged her with a strained grin.

Caitey, any report from the scouts?

She shook her head as she scanned battle frequencies with her processor. She spat a string of orange grit.

All we know, Captain, is there’s little firepower between us and the spaceport. No word on whether lighters or transports are there.

Kozlowski joined them.

Commander Yang ran into some Tangier mercs and got chewed on, he said, dropping his processor back into its holster. There are mercs between us, with DeWinter on her heels.

Parker shut his eyes for a moment.

Caitey, did we promise back-up for Ardent?

Aye, Captain, a squad two kilometers from the spaceport. There’s no way we can get back to her.

She lifted her processor to her ear.

We should be there soon, Parker said. Have Third Squad hold there.

I’ll hang with ‘em, Kozlowski said.

No, Pike. Leave it to the bosun. If Ardent can’t break through, I’ll need firepower at the spaceport.

Captain, I’ve got Commander Yang, Talavera said, handing Parker her processor.

Parker here. Respond, Ardent.

Jake, she said tiredly.

He waited a long moment, but she said nothing more.

Ardent, you there? Respond please, he said.

Jake, I lured DeWinter away from the civilians. All she wants now is us.

There was another long pause.

I’m down to two dozen troopers. We’re on foot – the trackers are gone. Pike says there are mercs between us and the spaceport?

Yes, Ardent. Don’t know how many.

We’re almost to that ridge. We’ll know soon.

Parker heard the sudden crackle of gunfire.

Shit. Gotta go, love. Yang ends.

Good luck, love, he said softly as his wife signed off. Parker ends.

*****

DeWinter wanted to crush this Albuquerque coup so she could get home to Tangier in Alpha Talon. Yet she cringed at the number of chunnel drops it would take to get her there from Gamma Talon. Everyone was nauseous during transits into hyperspace, but the drops drained DeWinter.

But anything that got her home to her husband and their twin girls was worth it.

Tariq, this is DeWinter. Reply and report.

General, the main body got past us. said St. John, her chief of staff. I’m on top of the ridge between them and their rearguard. Reply please.

Can your mercs handle them? The rearguard’s all Harriers. Reply.

It’s likely. Reply, please.

Report after your ambush. I may have you eyeball the spaceport. I don’t trust our Albuquerque allies to hold firm. Reply.

Yes, ma’am. Semper Pri. St. John out.

DeWinter out.

Blond, blue-eyed and classically handsome, St. John planned his ridgetop ambush with efficiency. He understood war intellectually and from hands-on experience. DeWinter had plucked him from the Tangier Military Academy faculty just before her Walden victory. He swiftly became her chief of staff.

His tactical challenge was simple. The four-lane road to the spaceport led to a gap atop the heavily forested ridge. The gap was shallow, but fell enough to put the road below the trees on either side. St. John split his mercenaries evenly in the pines to create a crossfire.

He looked down to where the road curved away. A knot of twenty or so Harriers erupted around the curve and started upward. Every few seconds, one would turn and fire. St. John was surprised at how few there were.

He could see Albuquerque militia edge around the curve behind the Harriers. They fired often, but with no visible effect. Several fell from shots sent back at them. Still running together, the Harriers accelerated as they neared the gap.

Stand by, First and Second Squads, St. John transmitted quietly.

As they flowed into the gap and the spaceport became visible, St. John heard one Harrier give a small cheer. He grimaced.

Fire.

The Harriers fell like wheat before an Old Terra thresher. Only a handful survived, including one with a commander’s sidearm. The screams of their fallen comrades followed them as they broke into a desperate, zigzagging run.

St. John counted to three.

Fire.

The last Harriers were cut down. St. John watched their gut-shot commander stumble and sprawl brokenly across the tarmac. Little now moved on the road, although screams, moans and desperate prayers echoed through the pines. He opened a processor channel.

General DeWinter, this is Major St. John. The Harrier rearguard is contained. Can I head for the spaceport? Reply, please.

There was a brief delay before the brisk contralto answered.

Tariq, hold the ridgetop until I catch up. The spaceport garrison panicked and went out the back gate. You’ll need more firepower before we hit the spaceport. DeWinter out.

He considered arguing with DeWinter. He thought delay was a tactical error, but he twirled his index finger high in the air. The mercenaries eased into sitting or horizontal positions. A dozen went down to the road to retrieve usable gear and put Harriers out of their pain.

St. John holstered his unfired pistol and settled back against a tree trunk. Pulling a hard-copy from his pocket, he soon was lost in his reading.

Chapter 2

Walden, Gamma Talon

Yorski’s sure? Captain Maggie Herndon asked.

He’s not our best station master, but he swears it’s solid, said Nils Brunko, her Senior Gunner.

Yorski was the Harrier station master assigned to Walden, the fourth planet of Gamma Talon. He was there because of its strategic insignificance -- the Confederation dominated Gamma – and because he drank too much.

He said the pirates are two hundred and seventy kilometers north-northeast of Hot Spot, way out in the Back Forty. At a place called Lucinda, Brunko said. I don’t find anything in the planetary database.

Herndon leaned back and steepled thick fingers. As Myopia’s captain, she commanded Clan Isfahan’s Troop Nordique. Nordique traded among the three Talons and Hole in the Wall, the Harrier operations center in Alpha Talon.

But she wasn’t orbiting Walden as a tramp merchant.

A three-ship raiding party had waylaid a TransFlt Troop Guaviáre trader and its escorting lighter in Gamma Talon. The pirates destroyed the lighter, massacred the trader’s crew and stole its cargo. The empty, heavily damaged trader was found orbiting Walden’s moon.

According to Yorski, the pirates landed in Walden’s Back Forty. The Back Forty drew adventurers, criminals and small-time operators from Walden’s coastal cities and populated areas.

Lucinda, huh? When I was on Walden, it was a minor shithole, Herndon said. It must have come up in this world.

Herndon peered at the main screen through thick, steel-rimmed glasses. Her broad face, pretty except for acne scars, topped a large-breasted frame that carried eight or nine extra kilos. Her hair was so short, it barely shadowed her scalp. She was too busy to don one of her many wigs – some in startling colors.

Herndon’s baldness was caused by alopecia areata, a rare autoimmune disorder in which the body attacks hair follicles. For women, the condition was usually sudden and traumatic. Most improved when their immune systems recovered, but in the cases like Herndon’s, most hair was lost permanently.

Raised on Walden, Gamma Talon’s fourth planet, Herndon was managing a fish farm when a Harrier recruiter stumbled across her. By chance, Commodore Anna Chu Scarsdale, the Harrier Master of Hostilities, was on Walden. Scarsdale invited Herndon to lunch. The commodore looked past her appearance to find an astute, hungry mind.

By the time dessert was served, Herndon agreed to join Clan Isfahan. She was given a slot at the Harrier Trade School at Hole in the Wall above Wellington. Academic accomplishments marked her as a rising star, and expectations climbed. Barely three years after graduation, she was given command of Clan Esfahan’s Troop Nordique.

But Herndon never lived up to those high expectations. Troop Nordique was not successful – its contracts were few, and Herndon had to beat the bushes of the trinary system for revenue.

Oddly, Herndon’s people belied Nordique’s hardscrabble reputation. Like every OpsFlt troop, Nordique included hot heads, adrenaline junkies and assassins. But Herndon also attracted some of the best analysts, system designers and shipboard engineers. Once they joined Nordique, they seemed satisfied.

I think I’ll drop down for a quick visit, Nils. One way or another, these ass-clowns are history. Tell Scrimshaw we’ll take his lighter. Just a skeleton crew – shift the extras here.

Although Herndon lived and worked as a regular OpsFlt captain, she was Scarsdale’s top field agent. She gathered intelligence throughout the Cluster on whatever activities might impact Harrier interests. The OpsFlt commodores on the Board of Directors considered her one of their sharpest tacticians.

That was why she, Myopia and Troop Nordique orbited Walden, her old home world.

The Board wanted the pirates found and punished. Harriers followed a long-enforced policy: Any ship that attacked a Harrier vessel or its contractual allies was a pirate to be seized or destroyed. Any unauthorized ship caught with Harrier or allied goods from an attacked or missing vessel was seized or destroyed and its crew executed. Any governmental unit, planetwide or smaller, that supported piracy faced penalties ranging from embargo to a formal Declaration of Hostilities.

It was time to remind Walden it could not serve as a pirate refuge without consequences.

Eyeball this Lucinda so I know what I’m getting into, Nils.

I assume you go in looking for work.

Yeah, we’ll pull the ‘renegade Harriers’ routine. But only two days. We‘ve got commitments. If possible, we’ll take out just the pirates.

Everyone down there’ll be tied to the Guaviáre massacre somehow, Captain.

Probably, but I’ll confirm. We’ll head down after you get me some data. Keep communications blacked out. And, Nils, if anyone else launches from Lucinda, take it out, but not so the natives can see.

*****

A single day was enough for Herndon to grow weary of Lucinda’s voluntary degradation. There might be a handful of residents less guilty than the rest, but she no longer cared.

She found the pirates in a sleazy tavern near the center of town. She did a shot with their captain and told him she wanted work.

Nothing too hard, of course, she said. Her wigless scalp reflected neon through its fuzz. We don’t want to stare up the ass-end of a near-mule. I want something quick, easy and lucrative.

That was when a drunken outlaw challenged her. It let Herndon impress the pirates with a display of cold-blooded savagery. After the crippled pirate was dragged away, she and the captain got thoroughly drunk.

When he offered to show Herndon an independent operator’s rewards, they staggered to a nearby warehouse. The captain, his arm around Herndon, dragged her past piles of cargo from the destroyed Guaviáre trader.

This is what a real operation can do. If you want to work with the best, you’d better join my fleet. There’s a job coming up in six or seven days – a small TransFlt convoy. I need a fourth ship. Interested?

Herndon pretended enthusiasm and sought more details, but the captain barely made it back to the tavern before he passed out.

*****

Tipped back in a tavern chair with her eyes shut, Herndon felt her processor vibrate in its boot-top holster.

I’ll be right back. Gotta check the plumbing, she slurred to Scrimshaw and another Harrier, their heads pillowed atop a different tavern table.

She slowly rose and, gripping chair tops and sliding along the wall with an outstretched hand, she staggered out the tavern’s back door to its outhouse. She pushed aside the panel across the entrance.

The reek of feces and vomit grabbed her throat. She breathed through her mouth. The place was empty. She pulled down her pants and sat in the stall closest to the open door, boots resting on sour, urine-soaked wood chips. She pulled her processor from its holster.

Boris, this is Hegel. Respond.

Hegel, this is Boris. A Tangier lighter inbound from Rosebud just announced a gyroscope emergency. It’s trying to reach Walden orbit. The pilot estimates nine hours, if they make it at all. No chance of them spotting us, though. Oh, and the bosun asked if you’d bring up a case of tequila. Other than that, no disruption of a routine watch. Respond, please.

Herndon stiffened as Brunko used a series of high-priority code phrases, including tequila, disruption and routine watch.

Thanks, Boris. Keep an eye on that lighter. Tell the bosun there’s no tequila, but we’ll bring her some Walden jump juice. Hegel closes.

Herndon pushed the processor into its holster and emptied her bladder.

So Scarsdale wants us in Alpha Talon. Tangier’s probably bullying Belfrey again. Or maybe the Somerset elves have rebuilt another nasty toy.

She tore a sheet from the catalog nailed to the wall, wiped herself and headed back toward the tavern, slowing to add a stagger to her steps.

Herndon decided to hit Lucinda while the zippos pushed her lighter toward Myopia’s orbit.

At least there aren’t any kids here, or so they said. Certainly none of those fat-assed hooks are carrying.

She pushed the thought away as she gazed down at the snoring pirate captain. Only two of his crew remained – one man sprawled across a table, the other on the floor with her back against the bar, head sagging. The rest were either upstairs with the hookers or sleeping it off somewhere. Even the bartender was gone.

She nodded to her two Harriers. They silently rose, knives in hand. She grabbed the captain’s greasy hair with her left hand and slammed his face against the table. As she struck, her people slit the throats of the other two pirates. Herndon wrenched the groggy man’s head back and scowled down at him. She waited until his eyes widened in recognition.

The Harrier Board of Directors finds you guilty of piracy and murder, she said. He began to push away from the table. Your sentence is death.

She swept the edge of her right hand into his throat to crush his larynx. She let him slump across the table and struggle for a breath that never came. His feet still scrabbled against table legs as the three Harriers slipped from the tavern.

*****

Albuquerque, Gamma Talon

Captain, I don’t see any sentries, Kozlowski whispered into his processor. There’s one guy just sitting in front of the open gate. He sure isn’t from Albuquerque – his tunic shows Belfrey’s overlapped moons and a red brat dangles from his epaulette.

What in hell’s going on? Parker said, a kilometer back.

The civilians were melting away through the trees except for a hundred or so unable to go further. No wraparounds were in sight.

Caitey, you see anything?

There’s nothing moving inside the spaceport, Talavera said softly from the fence line to Kozlowski’s left.

OK, Caitey, back up Pike, Parker said. Troop Wallaroo, scout the eastern perimeter. Troop Avignon, take the west. Report A-SAP. Respond.

Wallaroo en route. Saunders ends.

Avignon moving. Preston ends.

Pike, I don’t know what’s happening, but we’d better chat with the door warden.

Hard or easy, Captain?

Easy, I think. But stay alert. I’m on my way down. Caitey, how soon can you be ready?

Ninety seconds.

OK, Caitey. Pike, warm up your innocent look. Parker ends.

There was an empty pause. Clouds formed over the mountains to the east and the scent of rare rain was carried by a strong breeze. The spaceport held only eight launch pads, a barracks, maintenance hangars and fueling stations. Three lighters and a large trader sat on the pads nearest to the gate. Parker could see the noses of several other ships.

You’re covered, Pike. Go, Talavera transmitted.

Kozlowski rose from behind the thorn bushes and casually stretched. The man in the chair did not move. Kozlowski hung a friendly grin across his jaw and strolled forward. The door warden was a small man with rust-colored hair and a carefully trimmed beard. He watched Kozlowski without expression until the Harrier got within five meters.

That is as close as I want you, boyo, until we reach an understanding.

The man did not raise a weapon, but Kozlowski froze.

And ask whoever watches your back to join us. I am no threat. In fact, I want to meet Captain Parker.

And why’s that? Kozlowski asked as he edged rightward so Talavera had a clear shot. The brat lifted a wing to glower at Kozlowski.

Because I bear gifts. An entire spaceport. Its owners abandoned it. And I offer it to prove my sincerity. Please stand easy. I am sure your companion already has me in his sights.

Kozlowski stopped moving and did nothing to hide a real smile.

You’re a piece of work, little man, Kozlowski said as he pulled out his processor. Captain, we just got a temporary offer of the spaceport. Yeah, the door warden seems in charge. At least there’s no one else, and the gate’s deserted. You should meet this guy. Respond, please.

That’s easily arranged, Talavera said as she slid from inside the gate. She laid her blade against the small man’s throat. He froze and rolled his eyes toward the thick brunette braid tickling his neck.

Great Mother, how do you do that? Kozlowski asked, pulling his pistol. I thought you were behind me.

So did our door warden.

*****

I am Connor Ryerson, senior envoy to the Tiara of Belfrey in Alpha Talon.

You’re a long way from home, Parker said. What’re you doing in this mess?

I was waiting for you. In addition to this spaceport – yours on the easiest terms – I have information.

The runt looks like a damned spy, Kozlowski said.

Perhaps, said Ryerson, his eyes locked on Parker’s, but in some cases, we spies are valuable allies.

How can you help? Parker asked.

I already have, Ryerson said. The garrison panicked because I said you were more numerous and blood-thirsty than you seem. They were ordered to disable ships capable of leaving orbit.

Ryerson’s news was like a punch to the gut.

Shit, stranded here with DeWinter, Kozlowski said.

I said they were ordered to, not that they did, Ryerson said. "Most of the