Destiny's Forge

By T. L. Carlyle

Honor and duty, friendship and loyalty, murder and revenge, blood and dynasty. In the 23rd century, a stranger from another planet arrives on Earth to search for an ancient enemy of the state. Through a quirky turn of fate she winds up serving on the military starship Destiny's Forge, where the crew is haunted by murder and sabotage. Ov

• Language: English
• Publisher: Antellus
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087946993

T. L. Carlyle

T. L. Carlyle is an author and illustrator who publishes under the Antellus imprint. She writes science fiction adventure, mystery, and nonfiction books on genre topics, with a view to educate as well as entertain. Her latest books include the series Legends of The Dragon's Blood.

Book preview

Preface

This is the third book in the Legends of The Dragon’s Blood series. It is a novel which was loosely based on my fan fiction written from 1988 to 1995. The original series, called Blood Songs, was about a starship in the Star Trek universe, but one which was independently created with original characters of the writing group. No mention of the original starship or characters were made. The strength and scope of the characters written within our club was such that the newsletter in which the stories were featured won several awards.

Over time, my participation in the group waned as I was forced to deal with several real life issues, and I finally resigned in 1995.

Then, in 2003 I turned to finding out what to do with the stories I had written. My first attempt at novel writing was this one, which I published in 2006 after a search for a worthy printing service yielded the results I wanted all along. From then on, I never searched for a traditional publisher again.

I hope you will enjoy it. — T. L. Carlyle

Book 1: Arrival

1

2256

A small space craft rushed toward a planet orbiting a pair of white stars, trailing a plume of sparking fire and rapidly dissipating smoke. The meteoroid had done its work well when it smashed through the engine pod of the craft at a critical point, disabling it in an instant. The pilot was clad in a space suit when it happened, but this would be no comfort when the air supply in the suit would run out and the ship’s systems would fail.

The planet appeared to be mostly desert, scarred by a long deep fissure across its surface. A series of small lakes filled the rift at irregular intervals. The mountains were steep crags jutting from the surface. 

The craft was seized by the planet’s gravitational field and began to enter the atmosphere at a steep angle. The cockpit functioned as a detachable escape pod, but the docking clamps sparked and flared and would not release. The pilot struggled with the controls and managed to coax it to pitch the nose upward as it began its inexorable spiral toward the surface. Mile after mile of harsh terrain passed underneath at a frightening pace, growing ever closer while an envelope of red heat formed on the skin of the craft.

The pilot was able to bring the retrothrusters back on line and controlled them manually. The craft bucked and jostled as its descent fell back to something less terrifying, but it was not designed for a surface landing. The pilot aimed for a patch of desert just beyond the forest crowding the shore of one of the larger lakes.

The ground rushed up like a ravenous beast as the ship hit the surface, digging up a long furrow of yellowish earth and leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake. The ship crumpled and bounced until the nose came down suddenly and buried itself, bringing the whole thing to an abrupt halt.

The ship’s glowing skin ignited and caught fire, fueled by the dry vegetation surrounding it.

The pilot went toward the rear escape hatch toting a backpack full of supplies. The hatch exploded outward and landed a few yards away. The pilot dove out above the flames and sailed a fair distance, hit the dirt and rolled clear.

Exhausted with pain and nearly out of air, the pilot struggled to unfasten her helmet, tossed it away and took a gulp of dry heat into her lungs as she looked around. The suns were near the horizon, and she blinked and turned away at the harshness of the light, then threw up her hands to shield her eyes. She crawled desperately into the shade of a large bush and collapsed there, as an awful painful darkness claimed her mind.

A mile away, an elderly woman paused while washing dishes and peered through the sand streaked window at a pillar of smoke rising from the desert floor. She turned to her husband and said, Jeff, something’s crashed out there.

The old man looked up from his work on their radio set, dropped his sonic screwdriver and bolted from his chair. Someone could be hurt out there. We’d better go and help. Come on.

Together, the couple emerged from a stucco ramshackle farmhouse and went to their covered carport, where a well used desert vehicle sat in the shade. It was an old humvee fitted with spiked tires and fitted with rooftop lights. The old man removed the tarp covering it and looked inside the cabin. I know it’s been a month since I used her last, but I hope she’s okay. He raised the hood on the monster and peered inside, then reached in to make a couple of adjustments.

The old woman glanced out at the pillar of smoke rising from the desert floor. It’s turning black, she said. That can’t be good.

Jeff replied, just give me another moment. Satisfied that everything was still connected, he slammed down the hood and went to the driver’s side door, opened it, then climbed in. Get in and strap yourself. If I go in a straight line it’s bound to get bumpy.

The old woman did as she was told, and the vehicle left the shade of the carport, leaving a cloud of desert dust behind it.

When they arrived at the crash point, the craft was already a pile of darkened and smoking rubble. The woman looked at it with some dismay. How could anyone have survived that?

Then she looked around, and spotted a flash of silver among the scrubs. Oh! Look!

She and her husband moved quickly toward the object, and found a woman clad in a space suit lying unconscious, her helmet nearby. She had a pale face, looking as if she had never been in the sun before. Her hair was dark burgundy, tightly braided to keep it out of the way. Her body was long and slim, yet she was not really that tall. The woman knelt next to her, carefully placed two fingers against the pulse at her neck, and muttered, I can’t get a pulse. You don’t think she’s…?

Jeff looked at the pilot’s face, then up into the violet sky, which was now growing dark. Then he glanced around with dismay. No, but if she was to stay out here much longer she will be. She may have been concussed. Come on, let’s get her into the truck.

2

The noise of clattering dishes nearby roused the pilot. She sat up slowly, gathering her wits as her vision slowly cleared. She looked down and saw she had been bathed and swathed in bandages around her torso.  She felt at the spot where she had cracked a rib to be rewarded with a twinge of pain.

She looked around the room and saw that she was in someone’s home. There were heavy curtains on the windows to keep out the harsh white sunlight, and the furnishings were spare and plain. Small photographs and paintings covered the drab wallpaper, and other brickabrack adorned the surfaces of the furniture.

A thin female voice coming from the door startled her. Oh good, you are awake. A petite older woman came into the room bearing a tray with dishes. When we found you out there we thought you would never survive. Are you hungry? She deposited the tray onto a side table and waited with a gentle smile.

The pilot’s voice was warm and held an exotic, indefinable accent as she replied, thank you, but please, do not be concerned.  I heal quickly.

The old woman carefully avoided looking into the intense violet eyes gazing into her own.  I wouldn’t doubt it for a second, she said. You do look like you’re not from around here.

My ship?

A total loss, I’m afraid. The fire burned everything. You’re lucky we found you. The suns are not kind to the living even in the best of times.

Hmmm. But the pilot was inwardly pleased. The fire would have erased any clue of her origin and purpose. She would have to improvise from now on.

Where are my manners? the older woman said brightly, wiped her hands on her apron and extended one. My name is Althea Crimmons. And you are?

The pilot stared at her hand for a long moment, then ventured to take it. Antonia, she replied.  Antonia… Bellero.

The woman released her grip instantly as her smile sputtered and almost went out, then brightened again. Your hand is so cold, she said. Have some soup. That will warm you up.  It’s not much but I added a little vana root to give it more flavor. She turned and placed the tray on Antonia’s lap.

The pilot took a chunk of freshly baked bread and dipped it into the thin consommé, tasted it and found it salty but edible. What planet is this? she asked between sips. I did not see it on my star charts. I had a faulty astronavigator.

Althea’s lips crimped with dissatisfaction. You landed on a dried prune called Corelli’s Planet. It used to be a beryllium mine but Vince Corelli decided to make a fast credit by subdividing the real estate into homestead properties. My husband and I sank every bit we earned into this farm, but the soil is not good for growing things. It’s more sand than anything else. And the best we can manage with herding is to breed the indigenous stock animals. The stock we brought from home died of starvation because they wouldn’t eat the plants.

Antonia prodded her gently. Home?

Earth, Althea replied. Do you know it? It’s a small planet orbiting a yellow sun about four light years from here. And, where are you from?

Oh. Here and there, Antonia said. I have been traveling for a very long time. But that is not important now. She changed the subject with, you had no broker to negotiate with, so you were cheated of your investment, no? I have heard of such things happening among the nonaligned worlds. Is your Federation not aware of this?

Althea nodded. My husband Jeff signed the deed before I had a chance to look at it, and now we’re virtually marooned here. If things don’t improve soon I don’t know what we’ll do.

What about water?

Most of it is reserved for terraforming. Corelli’s agency won’t share it.

Then perhaps I can help you to convince them otherwise. I would like to repay you for your kindness. I do have some knowledge of interstellar law.

Antonia shifted to sit straighter and was rewarded with another sharp twinge of pain. A gasp escaped her lips.

Thank you, but we’ll manage just fine, Althea said, drawing her stance straighter. I think you should just focus on that broken rib. Get some more sleep. Later, we’ll help you contact your people so they can come pick you up.

Antonia smiled ruefully. No. I’m afraid there is no one. I have been on my own so long that I have learned to… get along without.

What about your family?

No. They are long dead now. That was not quite true, but she had been in space for a long time, and time was relative.

Her host’s smile flattened. I’m sorry. It must be terrible to be alone.

The pilot managed a short smile. Please, do not feel sorry for me.

Althea smiled again, and patted her hand gingerly. Just rest.

Then the old woman was gone, and the bread and soup soon disappeared. Antonia relaxed against the pillows, contemplating the double shadows that scudded across the walls as the suns began to rise higher in the sky. She caught a glimpse of a deep violet sky and the vast expanse of desert beyond through gaps in the heavy curtains. But fatigue still dragged at her senses, and in a short time the light faded to a dark blur as she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

3

The next afternoon Antonia woke suddenly to an eerie silence, sensing a danger so strong she could almost smell it. She rose slowly to favor her rib and went to an old wardrobe standing in the corner, where she found some old clothes hanging on its thin rack. They had the scent of Althea’s perfume.

Her emergency pack sat on the floor next to a pair of woman’s shoes. Antonia picked out a blouse and jeans and dressed quickly, wanting to be on hand in case the Crimmons woman needed her. Her flight boots were missing, so she tried on the shoes.

As she headed toward the front of the house she heard voices outside, and paused just behind the open front door to listen.

You can’t do this! We were told that our title was permanent. We don’t want to sell our land back to Corelli or anyone else. This is our home.

A younger voice replied, things change, old man.

Antonia peered around the lintel carefully.

A man was seated in a large vehicle designed for off road travel. He was dressed in desert clothes, and wore a pith helmet with a flap to shield his neck. You’re getting market value for it, he continued. You should have read the fine print. We have the right to rescind title to the property at any time. So it’s time to pack it up. You’ve got thirty days to get out or the planning council is going to have the sheriff out here.

Jeff Crimmons tried, thirty days is not enough time…

That’s not up to me, the young man replied with a smirk curling his lips. Take it up with the council. Have a nice life. With that, he drove the vehicle away, leaving a plume of yellow dust drifting on the hot dry air.

Clearly distressed by this news, Althea Crimmons collapsed against her husband, her frail body shaking with sobs. Antonia felt a pang of sympathy and outrage as she watched the couple cling together in their misery. She wanted to see that these people had justice, but did not know how to accomplish this.

As they passed her into the house, she asked, what happened?

The older man glanced at her above his wife’s tousled hair. We’ve been evicted, he replied tersely, his lips pale and thin with anger. I paid the land agent good money for this godforsaken patch of dirt. But now they tell us they’ve found duranium in the soil, so they want it back at a tenth of what it’s worth. Corelli’s a lying, cheating, backstabbing snake.

Hush, Jeff. You don’t want to burden our guest with our problems, his wife told him, snuffling back her tears. 

Let me help you, Antonia insisted. I would consider it a fair trade for the hospitality you have shown me. For that I am ever in your debt.

Althea looked at her with tender eyes. My dear, you owe us nothing.

Antonia shook her head, then continued. I feel certain you can turn this situation to your advantage. Do you have any maps or charts showing the survey of your land?

Jeff Crimmons nodded. What do you have in mind?

Where does Corelli get his water? Antonia asked.

Well, at first they had to ship it in on a couple of mining barges.  But after a few months the water supply kept growing on its own.

What I think is that he is pumping water from your underground aquifers. He is stealing your ground water and creating the conditions on your land, she replied.

A gleam came into Jeff Crimmons’s eye. I knew it had to be more than a drought. How can we prove this?

That is why I need your survey maps. If I can gather some soil samples, I can give you the proof you need that Corelli is claim jumping. An assay should show the evidence of soil desiccation clearly enough. I can go tonight.

Tonight? But, I can’t let you going roaming around in that desert at night. It’s too dangerous, Crimmons said. And you’re bound to worsen that rib.

Althea said, you should stay until morning, then go. I can’t stand the idea that you are jumping around in the dark. The Maro come out at night.

Antonia’s curiosity was piqued. The Maro? What are they?

The two of them looked at each other with some despair. Jeff Crimmons hesitated before he said, they are indigenous animals. They were here when the colony began. They’re invisible, and they only hunt at night. We’ve had some of our livestock killed, and I’ve heard worse. Once I saw a paw print that was about four hands across and a trail of them that disappeared at a rock wall.  That’s the only clue we’ve had that they exist.

Antonia shook her head. The suns are too bright and hot for me, and I would be discovered too easily by Corelli’s men. I am not afraid. I can take care of myself. Do you have a weapon at hand?

Just an old series E pulse rifle left over from the border war. It’s still in good condition, Jeff said.

Antonia’s smile was slight but encouraging. That is good. Do you have a communication device?  Radio, or microwave?

Jeff Crimmons ran a rough, calloused hand through his sandy grey hair. Our transceiver antenna went down a couple of months ago during a sandstorm and I haven’t had the chance to get into town for replacement parts. I was trying to fix it when your ship crashed.

Antonia nodded. When I take the samples into town I will secure the parts for you. There must be someone there who intercedes when Corelli oversteps his authority. I will try to contact them and explain.

I doubt you’ll get through to them, but anything is better than nothing.

Crimmons wrote out a quick list of the radio parts he needed and handed it to her. Let me warn you, miss. That desert is the most unforgiving place in the system. Be sure to keep clear of the sand pits. They’ll suck you down before you even know it.

I will be watchful, Antonia said. Do not worry about me. She cut herself off, recalling that she should not share too much of herself. Rest now, and work on your radio set. I will go when the suns are down.

As the twin suns dipped lower toward the horizon, the violet sky grew darker and colder. Dressing in a black unisuit from her pack, Antonia waited until the last fiery inch of their discs were hidden from view behind the ridge of mountains before she decided to set out.

I am ready, she told the Crimmons’s. I hope to be back in two days, if not sooner.

We’ll be waiting for you, Althea said.

Hefting her duffel by its single strap onto her shoulder, Antonia took their hands and looked deeply into their eyes. Do not wait too long. If you have to, or you are attacked, leave as soon as you can and find a place in the hills. Do not try to find me. I will find you.

4

The desert air was cool and the night soon filled with the strange calls and twitters of night animals and insects. The sky deepened to an inky blackness that revealed the Milky Way in all its glory splashed out across it. The starlight was just bright enough to reveal the desert landscape to Antonia’s sensitive eyes.

She found a rough miner’s trail about a mile from the Crimmons farm and, using the crude map Jeff Crimmons had drawn, hiked toward a steep ridge which formed the lip of a shallow meteor crater.

Here she paused as she spotted the twinkling lights of the colony town. The crisp dryness of the air made the lights stand out like stars, and she could see the moving lights of air and space craft flitting about the space port like insects. Looming to her left stood the metal skeleton of an ore refinery, festooned with lights like a Christmas tree. Its three venting towers were on fire, and the glowing wisps of smoke drifted over the town. Even at that distance Antonia caught a hint of the foul sulfurous stench of refining metal mingling with the perfume of the scrub flowers on the faint cold breeze.

The sound of a twig snapping startled her. Antonia turned quickly, her hand already gripping the knife she had at her belt. A small reptile ran out from behind a small bush and over her foot. Tense seconds passed before she exhaled.

Sensing that she was being watched, Antonia kept a careful eye on the desert around her while she crouched and filled a small envelope with dry yellow soil. She silently tucked the envelope into her duffel and sniffed to catch the scent of animal, but the metallic odor on the air masked everything.

Antonia walked on, ever mindful that she could be attacked at any moment. Then the sounds of movement in the brush behind her gave speed to her movements. Animal or not, whatever was following her made no other sound. As she headed toward the eroded segment of the ridge the ghost matched her pace easily but kept its distance.

Finally, she went to a small tree with dark red leaves, placed her back against the gnarled trunk, raised her knife into a fighting pose and waited.

She spotted a blurry irregular patchwork against the stars, the brief glimpse of a pair of small red lights that moved in the darkness. The invisible creature paused about ten feet away. She caught the musk scent of a large predator.

The two beings remained still for what seemed like an eternity. She closed her eyes, feeling about for a sense of the creature’s mind, its thoughts. But it was opaque as a brick wall. At last, when she had exhausted all other ideas and options, Antonia tried speaking to it. What do you want? she asked.

A snuffling growl came out of the darkness, a strong, throaty voice, not quite human, not quite animal, but strong with maleness. It brought to mind the images of large predators that she had seen when she was young. She decided that this must be what it looked like if one could only see it. A giant, invisible wolf. 

Antonia froze and waited quietly. The beast was so close she could feel the heat rising from its invisible fur, or feathers. It snuffled and grunted close to her face as it sampled her scent. If it had wanted to it could have taken a chunk of flesh beside, but it did not.

A strange vision crossed her mind, one of shadows portraying invasion, pain and suffering, blood and conquest. In that instant she understood. The humans who colonized this planet had never done the proper surveys, never realized that the indigenous population was intelligent and that they were being displaced by the terraforming process and the water thefts.

Silently Antonia thanked the universe for its small mercies. She felt certain that the creature would not harm her as she ventured to move from her spot against the tree. The creature eased back slowly and did not attack. It seemed that there was a rapprochement formed from this accepting act, and Antonia felt as if the invisible creature was protecting her.

Together the strange duo climbed along the rim of the crater, where Antonia stopped to take more soil samples.

As the two pale suns rose against the line of distant hills Antonia and her erstwhile companion reached the edge of the desert, where they parted company. The creature would not go any further, halting as if it had encountered a barrier. Then it loped away quickly, leaving only small eddies of dust marking its pawprints. She watched them receding until they vanished.

5

Antonia walked on alone onto a grassy savannah, and found a well worn road which ran through it scratched in the hard yellow earth. She followed that until she reached the first line of ramshackle shanties that crowded the outskirts of the space port. It was called Sweetwater according to the sign posted on the side of the road.

The town looked like it had been hastily erected using whatever material was available, stacked up with awnings everywhere. Shipping containers had been converted into small shops. Prefab modular housing was everywhere, and Antonia saw enough bars and houses of dubious repute to squelch any notion that it was anything but a mining outpost. The buildings leaned toward each other as if they were also seeking shelter from the suns, but it was probably a deliberate attempt to maximize the shade. But the shadows were welcoming and inviting to someone like Antonia.

The harsh light of the twin suns washed everything in white light with double shadows, and Antonia found herself trying to avoid it. The heat and light on her skin became oppressive, and she clung to every bit of shade she could. She was forced to lick her lips to moisten them against the dry air. By now she was covered in dust and fine sand, and most of the people on the street gave her strange looks or stared as she walked into the mall.

The atmosphere of distrust and general unpleasantness shrouding the town stood out in the way people seemed determined to mind their own business. The suspicious look in their eyes was a sure sign that trouble had visited them many times before.

She felt prickly whenever one of the men glanced in her direction and fixed his gaze on her with the eyes of a predator, but none approached. Perhaps it was her dusty and disheveled appearance, or the challenging return gaze, that warned them off. She cared not for their scrutiny but could amply defend herself using a variety of martial arts if they dared to test her.

She ambled aimlessly toward the center of the town. The denizens made sure that the excessively white light of the suns did not reach them, as was evident from their tentlike light colored clothing, hats with broad brims and visors, and sunglasses adorning almost every face. Some carried umbrellas for that extra shade they provided, though it seemed that umbrellas could never be enough to conceal them.

She saw a town directory standing in front of a hotel and found one of several assay offices on the list, a common enough destination for the mining town that it had its own orange dot on the map. When she finally reached the assayer’s office, the man in charge seemed an amiable sort but frowned slightly when she presented him with six small envelopes of dirt. He looked her up and down with a sneer.

Well now, where did you get these? he asked. Looking to plant a garden, are we?

Antonia replied, how long will it take to analyze them?

His eyes twinkled with sudden greed. I dunno. It’ll take some time. One, maybe two hours.  If I put a rush on this it’ll cost more.

She glanced around at the equipment surrounding them, then up at the sign posting the price for testing. Antonia turned back as she caught his eyes with her own, boring into them. Her voice went low and sultry. Are you trying to cheat me? she asked.

The larcenous sneer quickly dropped from the assayer’s face when he looked into her eyes. He seized the envelopes and began to back away from the counter. No, ma’am. I’ll get on this right away.

I will be back in two hours. Be sure that you are finished by then.

He quickly waved his hands in a placating gesture as he promised, more than enough time.

Antonia left him to his work and found the techtronics merchant a few doors away. There she found most of the parts Jeff Crimmons needed for his communications array, but not all. She knew that he was familiar enough with his own equipment to improvise, but felt sure there were other places in town where she could look. She looked around at the signs and spotted another one across the way. She shook off the noxious sensations crowding her mind and ventured across the road.

Fortunately, the parts were small and did not crowd her pack, and the vendor was a bit more forthcoming with them, as she was the first customer he had seen in days.

When she returned to the assayer’s office the clerk was eager to point out that there were substantial deposits of various precious minerals in the soil, and tried to bargain with her for the property. We can give you top credit for it, he said.

Thank you, but no, Antonia replied. It is not for me. It is for someone else. She paid him the fee posted on his shop sign and walked out onto the darkened porch, only to collide with something tall, dark and solid as a tree.

A velvety warm voice drifted down to her. Pardon me.

Antonia looked up and beheld a handsome young man with pale skin and dark hair that brushed his shoulders. One of his green hazel eyes was obscured by a leatherine patch that had studs arranged in a circle on its ocular. The other appraised her with a twinkle of admiration. He was clad head to toe in shades of charcoal, or black covered in mining dust, and wore a wide brimmed hat and a long maroon scarf draped around his neck. A leather belt revealed a phase pistol and a long hunting knife slung from his hips. A bandoleer of pulse rifle ammo hidden under his long leatherine duster did much to convey the image of a tough and dangerous man. He smiled amiably and tipped his hat.

Excuse me, she replied, and moved to pass him by.

His hand grasped her right arm suddenly. His gaze was friendly. I can tell you’re not from around here, and this place doesn’t take that well to strangers. Perhaps I could show you around. It isn’t often we have such a pretty one like you come into town alone.

As if a fog had clouded her senses, she found herself unable to speak at first. But she was able to dismiss it. Thank you, but I think I can find my own way, she said.

His smile was somewhat persistent, and the hand failed to remove. Are you sure? There are all sorts of dangerous men in this town who are not exactly polite, if you take my meaning.

Antonia found herself on the defensive. You need not be concerned. I can take care of myself, she insisted.

Then let me give you a friendly word of advice. He leaned in closer, the words coming from generous lips like needles, his fragrant breath brushing her ear. Be sure to get indoors when the darkness falls.That’s when the real bad element comes into town. Take care you don’t see what happens then. It’s not pretty.

Then he released her and walked away, dry laughter trailing behind in his wake.

She stepped back reeling and stared at his receding figure for a few breathless moments before her focus came rushing back. This one was different from the others, like a kindred spirit, but she could not tell where he came from. Then she shook off the creepy feeling and walked on toward a garage, hoping to find something to ride back to the Crimmons farm. What few transport vehicles there were seemed reserved for the miners, and were too large for most of the other townsfolk to handle. Finally, she heard the sound of animals cooing nearby.

The rental barn was large and airy in the hot afternoon, its wide doors thrown back to admit the light and whatever fresh air was available. Antonia went in and found several large alpacas with feathers on their heads, tethered to rings in a communal stall. They shifted and worried at their bits nervously as she approached.

She slowed her gait to an easy amble so she would not spook them. One in particular caught her interest, and eyed her with caution as she fondled its large floppy ears and spoke to it with soothing tones until it calmed down. Close up, she could see that it was more like a giant camel. The feathers were short and stiff, probably for courtship display. As she stroked its ears, the beast closed its eyes and leaned in as if it was the only tenderness it had ever known.

Each of the animals was fitted with a control collar. She examined the saddle, saw the crest tooled into its tanned surface, and felt its hard contours. There was something familiar about the way it smelled, and she grimaced with distaste as she came to a conclusion about its source.  Maro skin?

Can I help you, miss?

The words whirled her around. The boy couldn’t be older than about 14, but he was big and muscular for his age. He leaned against the stall lintel with a half eaten apple in his hand, looking both bored and lazy.

You tend to these animals? Antonia asked. How much will it cost me to use one of these for a few days? What are they called?

The boy chuckled. You’re not from around here, are you? They’re called ‘lamaca’. I can let you have one for ten credits a day. Plus two credits per day for a saddle. Those things are hard to come by, and they’re expensive to replace.

Antonia fished into her jacket and pulled out a thin plastic card, which she handed to him. The card was blank, but the boy looked at it as if he could read something on it.  No saddle is necessary, she said.

The boy’s mouth fell open, and he said, Miss, you’re going to need it. These critters are kinda ornery without a control collar.

She ignored him, unfastened the collar and pulled the saddle from the animal’s back with a firm tug, placing it on the railing next to her. Her voice took on a distinct echo, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once as she said, "it will not be necessary."

The boy’s mouth started to sag open as his eyes went glassy, then caught himself and shrugged. Well, okay. Help yourself. He took the card and slipped it into a reader he kept on his belt, then handed it back to her, not aware that the reader read nothing.

Antonia vaulted onto the lamaca’s back, curled her fingers around the fine feathers running along its spine and dug her heels into its ribs. The creature gave out a shrill bleat and surged forward into the harsh sunshine, leaving the boy, the barn and the town behind. It seemed genuinely glad to be free of its electronic yoke and galloped along at a fast pace. It took little more than a gentle nudge in the ribs with her knees to guide the animal in the right direction, and the reward was eager, grateful cooperation. Soon Antonia was headed back along the trail out of town toward the farm.

The sunlight was harsh but she was determined to ignore it, even as she had the distinct impression that something had gone wrong.

6

The suns started to dip below the jagged line of the mountains when Antonia reached the top of the ridge overlooking the valley. From there she could see the whole farm, but sensed something was wrong when she saw that the smoke curling up from the chimney was not white but black, and there was smoke escaping through the dark windows. Fearing the worst, Antonia urged the lamaca on toward the house.

When she reached it she saw that it had been gutted by fire, leaving only its white stucco prefab shell standing in the twilight. The outbuildings and barn were untouched. The herd animals, the few that were left, roamed free among the crops, munching on their dried, broken stalks.

The lamaca balked at the smell of the fire and would not go further, so Antonia dismounted and tethered it to a tree near the barn, then ran inside the enclosure in search of her hosts.

The fire had ravaged the peach wallpaper and scorched the framed portraits. The entire back wall facing the desert had collapsed. The plain wooden furniture was reduced to smoking cinders. Antonia swallowed the gorge rising in her throat at the smell of cooked flesh and blood as she found their blackened and charred bodies lying a short distance apart in the front parlor.

She went to one knee next to Althea Crimmons and examined her face. The expansive blue eyes were open and cooked opaque. Antonia felt sure that the old woman was dead long before the fire took the rest of her dignity.

Jeff Crimmons looked the same way, and the scorched blast rifle was on the floor nearby, broken in half, indicating that he had no time to take a shot. The barrel was twisted into a curl. Whoever had killed them possessed tremendous strength.

She looked around for the radio set and found it among the rubble, smashed into a useless ruin. Now there was no way to call anywhere for help. Dispirited, she went to the rickety barn in search of a shovel while watching the deepening shadows for signs of movement. But the hot dry wind told her she was quite alone.

By the time the galaxy rose high in the sky, Antonia put the finishing touches on the farmers’ graves and said a silent prayer to the stars on their behalf.

Antonia went to the garage and found that the desert roadster Jeff Crimmons kept there was unharmed and unsullied by the fire. She was unfamiliar with the controls, but managed to get it started and out of the garage, rolled up to where the lamaca was tethered and coaxed the animal to climb into the back of it. Then she gunned the primitive engine and slowly rolled away into the night.

7

Antonia reached the stable where she rented the lamaca and returned it to its stall just as the twin suns rose and bathed the town in their harsh light. She noted with some temperance that the saddle and control collar went back onto the creature’s back almost immediately. She asked the boy, must you treat them so?

Miss, they’re not as gentle as you think, he said. They bite and spit when they get the chance. And they kick something fierce.

Perhaps if you did not treat them so badly, they would be more inclined to cooperate. These are intelligent animals. Give them a reason to serve you and you will find them willing. Otherwise, you will receive more of the same treatment.

The boy looked at the stalls and considered, then turned back to her. I thought they were dumb and ornery on purpose. Okay, I’ll try the nice approach for a change and see what happens.

Thank you, Antonia said. It is all I ask.

When she left the barn she parked the Crimmons’s vehicle nearby and walked the rest of the way toward the center of town in search of the sheriff’s office. She found it nestled among the buildings crowding the spaceport. Antonia was aware that she was a stranger in town, and that most law enforcement officials regarded strangers with automatic suspicion, but that did not stop her from searching for the justice the Crimmons couple deserved.

She walked into the small office and saw that the place was cramped for space, but the brig was much larger, connected by an airlock. The walls were plastered with wanted posters, emergency instructions, and a rack of pulse rifles. The office was empty. She looked around carefully and said, Hello?

After waiting for a minute, Antonia was almost ready to give up and leave, when a man came in from the back. He approached the front and froze when he saw her. Sorry. Have you been waiting long? he asked.

No. I must report a murder, she said. Althea and Jeff Crimmons. I found them burned to death, and their farmhouse was torched.

The man started at their names. The Crimmonses? That’s terrible. I’ll send someone out to investigate. We’re short staffed here at the moment, but…

Then I expect you shouldn’t waste anymore time, sheriff, Antonia replied.

He regarded her with a dour expression. Who are you, and what is your relationship to the victims?

My name is not important. I had been staying at their farm until I came to town on an errand on their behalf. When I returned I found them… murdered.

The sheriff shifted on his feet. Well, it is important when I must file a report. He moved with deliberate slowness toward his desk, as if the act of filling out a form was distasteful. My name is Sorngard. He fished around for an empty form and found it in a pile of other papers. Then he had to dig into his drawer for a pen. I’m afraid we’re rather old school around here. Budget cuts and such, you know?

Not from what I have seen, Antonia replied.

Yes, he drawled. The law is treated with little respect. This is a mining town, so it would be natural. But someone must uphold it for appearances’ sake, musn’t they?

Not when people are being robbed and driven from their homes, she insisted. Not when they are being murdered.

Now, don’t look at me like that. Sorngard’s face drooped. I am all for law and order, but nobody takes me seriously. I have no more than a couple of deputies to side me. Some folk try to be civil, but most don’t.

I was warned about what happens at night, Antonia said. Is that also a problem which must be ignored?

The sheriff nodded. Thanks to the sunlight, most people prefer to stay indoors. The night is when the real criminal element comes out. I’m sorry. I’ve got my hands full.

Then it is  good that I buried them before I came looking for help.

The sheriff straightened a bit as his eyebrows went up. He spent a moment scrutinizing Antonia as if she was a work of art, but shrugged. Most kind of you.

He filled out the form as if he had a great deal of practice. Now, I need your name for the record. I’ve got to dot my eyes and cross my tees.

Bellero. Antonia Bellero, she said.

How did you come to know the murder victims?

My ship crashed in the desert, she said. They took me in and tended to me. If it is important to your investigation, I overheard a conversation in which the Crimmonses learned they were to be evicted, despite their clear ownership of the land they lived on.

Sorngard’s eyes widened somewhat. At this, Antonia pressed him. You know what has been going on, don’t you? she said. Corelli has been poaching water and stealing mineral rights from the farmers.

The sheriff’s shoulders drooped. And I can’t do anything about it. He owns the whole planet. His scheme to scam the farmers is just his way of making more money from renting the land. They don’t have any rights to their own lives here, and even they know it. I’m only telling you because you’re new here.

And the Maro?

She had struck a nerve. Sorngard’s eyebrows drew down into an angry curl, and he said, those animals? We never see them. They’re invisible. They come in the night and take lamaca, prospectors, miners. We drove them into the hills when they invaded our territory. They’re quiet now.

Antonia frowned back. They were here first, sheriff. They were born here, and you were not. And Corelli is a greedy criminal who cares for no one else. If you will not do it, I will approach your system authority and report this incident to them. I am sure that the sight of their ships anchored in orbit will make him think twice about flouting the law.

The sheriff looked around quickly to make sure they were not being overheard. I would not say that too loud, if I were you. The walls have ears.

Antonia leaned closer, fixing his eyes with hers. Then I will leave you to follow through, and investigate those people’s deaths minding that my eyes are on you. They must have justice.

Sorngard swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked away carefully. Yes, they must.

With that, Antonia marched out onto the veranda and walked away. The road did seem light with foot traffic, and the pedestrians passed each other in a hurry. Of Corelli or his minions there seemed to be little sign. She glanced at the tallest building in the compound, a portion of rocket housing looming over the sprawl, and guessed that he was probably there. Slowly, she made her way carefully under the awnings toward it.

8

Antonia watched the foot traffic moving in and out of the building from the outdoor patio of a restaurant across the busy street until she became aware that the waiters were watching her, paid her tab and moved on.

She stopped at the corner under the awning of the general store to plot her next move and spotted a tavern in operation about three doors down one of the side roads. The flashing neon sign above the entrance declared that it was called Nero’s Banquet. The exterior was a large set of interconnecting shipping containers, with small portholes for windows. One of them sported a small sign that said, HELP WANTED.

Antonia was sure it would involve hard work for very little pay.  If she could convince the owner to hire her, she could observe the movements of both Corelli and the citizens while earning enough credits to hire a place on a ship and leave the system.

She stole a long look around before she left the main road and walked toward it. She entered through the wide plasteel doors and was immediately caught in the face by a miasma of beer fumes and other foul odors, followed moments later by appreciative whistles and cat-calls thrown in her direction. Loud music assaulted her sensitive eardrums and almost drove her back, but she was determined to get that job.

She pushed her way through the noise toward the big bar against the far wall, where a man stood behind it polishing a large glass. He was short and heavy set, with almond shaped blue eyes and a shock of unkempt blond hair. His thickset lips were the frame for a large cigar, an unwise decoration in an establishment full of fire accelerants.

He regarded her with a dispassionate leer and asked, who might you be? You here about the job?

Yes, she said.

Her reply drew a few incredulous guffaws and snorts from the men on either side of her, but the bar man’s unpleasant scowl silenced them. He looked her over from head to toe, then said, I need somebody to serve drinks and smile, clean up and put up, and help me throw out the troublemakers. You don’t look like the kind who can do that.

What kind do I look like? she asked, her lips turning up slightly.

Trouble, he replied with a cynical smile. The sort I don’t need. You look too light and delicate to deal with this rabble, princess, so I’d advise you to move along before you get in trouble.

Antonia leaned forward, caught his eyes with hers and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. What if I were to tell you that I am much stronger than I look?

He blinked with surprise, then chuckled. "I’d say you were talking through your hat… er… not that you’ve got