Blowback (9 page)

In the field, he understood every move Ramsay made. Let him
scratch and Tom could figure out if he was worried or pissed. A mark blinked
wrong and Tom knew where to expect an attack to come. He’d walk into a
warehouse and one look would tell him exactly where to expect sniper fire to
come from. In the field, Tom knew how to keep his team alive. It was just the
rest of the time he felt like a total failure. Standing up, Tom grabbed for the
handheld and stood looking at it. Mission report now, food later.

Sitting down again, Tom brought up the mission specs.

Nodar was a desert world and Capital City was a gathering of
spires and towers carved out of solid rock that used to be an enormous mountain
of granite, osmium, quartz and chert. One of the lower mountains on the far
side of the range still had a long scar down the side where a colony ship had
crashed into it. The mountain survived; the ship and its passengers hadn’t.

The shipyards were several miles west of the town proper, on
the desert side of the city, and tents and shacks stood in neat rows. Most had
piles of trade goods—olives in huge metal barrels and tall stacks of sheep
skins and bags and bags of pistachios, their white shells gleaming in the noon
sun where bags had broken open. Mech trucks were dragging the
Kratos
to
the harbor sheds and then later they’d have to drag the
Kratos
to one of
two launching pads. Now that they were down, they weren’t getting back up
easily or quickly. It made Tom’s skin crawl.

“Wow,” Becca said. “Okay, this place is really colorful. And
dirty.” Tom had to agree on both fronts. He wondered where the tentmakers got
the dyes for their tents. It seemed like a whole lot of fuss for something that
didn’t matter, but Tom was out of his quarters and eating an apple Becca had
brought him with all the seriousness that his ma used to bring copper marks to
the minister on Sundays. Not much else mattered to him.

“Stay with the ship. Make sure she gets tied down because
this place has sandstorms and we don’t need to lose the ship. Literally lose.
We’ll all be out there running metal scanners over the dunes if a wind tears
her loose from the cables,” Ramsay warned.

“On it, Captain,” Becca immediately agreed. She took a step
back so she was closer to the
Kratos
as it inched along behind the mech.

It took Ramsay some time to come up with his next words.
“Eli, stay with the ship. Keep it on lockdown.”

“Sir,” Eli immediately protested, his flicking toward Tom.
Tom gave the man a real good shit look. Even if Eli knew there was something
going on between Tom and the captain, that didn’t give him a right to assume
that Tom wouldn’t have Ramsay’s back.

“That’s an order. Something happens to that ship and we’re
done. We’re just done,” Ramsay warned. Tom didn’t think it would be all that
bad. It’d be humiliating to have to hitch a ride back to Corps controlled
space, but it wasn’t as if they were
meaiai
. Those spider-like creatures
gave Tom the willies worse than
genta
ever did. Keep a
meaiai
away from its ship long enough and the damn thing clicked itself to death.

Government had killed the first couple of ambassadors before
they figured out that the aliens needed something that was on their ship to
live. No one knew what they needed, not even now, but they died quick enough if
kept away from their ships. Tom figured that the only reason the human race
hadn’t gone to all-out war was that the
meaiai
didn’t actually seem to
understand death. They’d keep doing their click-talk to a dead body until it
collapsed and turned to dust. Now the
casslit
had started the biggest war
in human history over a ship with a busted nav unit wandering in their space.
Tom hated aliens. There weren’t any of them that made a lick of sense.

Da’shay came wandering over. She’d been peering at the
nomadic tents until she’d pretty much gone and creeped them out. Now she was
back to make Tom’s life extra uncomfortable. “Your gift returned to component
elements. All gone.” She looked at Tom sadly.

Ramsay snorted. “You’ll have to get her a necklace to
replace it.” He started toward the city on the far side of the sea of tents.

“I ain’t like to ever do that.” Tom followed immediately
behind him, his eyes watching the crowd for any sign of someone who was too
damn interested or someone who was trying too hard to look not interested at
all.

“A necklace wouldn’t replace lost whispers in the dark,
pulling the red through all the night.” Da’shay turned around and started
walking backward. Tom didn’t know if she was watching their six or just being
weird, but he sure wasn’t going to trust her to notice trouble.

“Hidden meanings in objects. White wedding dress. Old penny.
Stepfather’s gun. Tom’s gift to me.”

Tom stopped and stared at Da’shay, the hairs on his arms
standing up and his skin cold, even in the desert heat. He sure as hell never
told her about his stepfather, never told anyone on the
Kratos
. Either
she’d seen his Corps files or she’d researched him. Either one meant that she
was doing things she had no right to be doing.

“Tom?” Ramsay was standing ahead of them, his hand on his
weapon.

“Da’shay ain’t having one of her good days,” Tom said
carefully. He wasn’t going to threaten her in front of the captain. Hell, after
seeing her cut slavers up into pieces, he didn’t have a lot of illusions about
what would happen if he threatened her at all.

Ramsay walked back toward them. “Oh?”

Da’shay smiled at them both.

“Let’s get to the train before we miss it and have to walk
the whole way to the city,” Ramsay said before heading back into the crowd. Tom
let Ramsay get ahead some before he followed. Unfortunately, Da’shay seemed to
be sticking to him.

“I miss the gift you gave me.” Da’shay reached out and
caught his arm. Tom stopped himself right before shaking her off. Even if he
did manage to get her away from him, he’d make a scene. Worse, her fingers were
tight enough on his arm that he wasn’t sure he could anyway. His ego didn’t
need that kind of bruising, so he put up with her pressing close and tried to
ignore her firm grip. Tom shoved a slow-moving paper-seller out of his way.

“Bad manners,” she said in a sing-song.

“Don’t rightly care,” Tom answered. That earned him a sharp
pinch on the inside of his elbow.

“Ow.” Tom shoved at her, but Da’shay clung to him and
smiled. “I ain’t about to put up with you pinching me.” He tried to shove her
away again, but she twisted around and somehow he ended up with her pressed
against his back, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head resting on his
back. He grabbed her wrists and then froze as she tightened her grip just
enough to be painful. Shit. She could kill him right now and Tom suddenly
understood how little defense he had against this woman.

“You shouldn’t put up with me pinching you,” she whispered,
her body warm against him in ways that made his cock get all kinds of confused.

“Then you’ll stop?” Tom asked. That seemed entirely too
easy.

“Make me,” she whispered, this time a playful tone in her
voice. Her arms tightened a little more and Tom grunted as his guts complained.

“I ain’t about to start a physical fight with you,” Tom said
carefully. “Captain would gut me even if you didn’t.”

She sighed. “That’s not how to stop me. Tom needs to listen
to what I do.” She let him go and Tom backed off a step.

They had plenty of people watching them now, but there
wasn’t much Tom could do about that. Da’shay did her own thing, and if Ramsay
wanted to blame Tom for that, there wasn’t a damn thing Tom could do about
that, either.

“We’re going to go miss the train, pea-brain,” he pointed
out. Her arms loosened and Tom yanked himself free and ran for the train
platform. It was still some distance away and the train was already settling
into the station with a squealing of metal wheels against metal track.

Tom’s muscles weren’t totally recovered from three days of
not eating and the stairs left him shakier than he wanted to admit, especially
when Da’shay wasn’t even breathing hard. Ramsay stood at the top, near one of
the already-crowded cars, three tickets in hand.

“You done playing?” he asked.

“Play ain’t the word,” Tom pointed out, but Da’shay just
smiled sweetly at Ramsay and then moved into the train car, studying the people
seated along the sides. Since all the benches were full already, Ramsay and Tom
took hold of the bars and braced themselves. Da’shay wandered, stopping when
she reached a man a long white shirt. He ignored her at first, focusing on his
handheld, but Da’shay moved closer and closer.

Tom chuckled. Da’shay was annoying as hell, but she was fun
to watch when she tortured other people. The businessman shifted to the side
and a woman with three bags full of fruits and nuts gave him a shit look as he
pressed into her.

“Sorry,” he offered without pretending to be sincere. That
was the point where he lost the battle, and Tom could see that clear as day.
The man’s squirming had opened a tiny sliver of bench space and Da’shay just
about threw herself into it. The man squawked, but it was too late because
Da’shay had set up her claim. The old man on Da’shay’s other side chuckled and
Da’shay smiled at him.

“Been a long time since I had a beautiful young woman
pressed up to me,” he told her with a wink.

Da’shay smiled back. “Not so young.” She reached up and ran
a finger over the older man’s cheek and her leg just so happened to end up in
the businessman’s lap, making him throw his hands up, clearly not sure what he
was supposed to do with the crazy woman now half-lying in his lap. However,
even the stupidest person on the planet wouldn’t get too confrontational with a
genta
, so he looked around at the other passengers, silently begging for
help. No one offered any. Tom sure as hell didn’t.

“I was old when you were young,” Da’shay told the old man in
a serious voice.

He looked at her with an amused sort of disbelief. “You’ve
held up well, then.”

“Yep.” Da’shay twisted back around and Tom was almost sure
that her heel caught the businessman in the crotch. Either that or the first
jerk as the train pulled away from the station pushed his crotch into her heel.
No matter how the heel and crotch met, the businessman gave an undignified yelp
and decided he had enough. He bolted out of his seat and grabbed one of the
hold bars for those who were stuck standing. The train was moving now—the
engine pulling them forward with rough jerks as it tried to get momentum going.

“You’re right about her being in a mood,” Ramsay said
softly. “Try to not let her make too big of a scene.”

Tom looked at Ramsay in horror. What the hell was he
supposed to do with her? After going to all the work to get a seat, Da’shay
abandoned it and came toward them. However, when a woman tried moving toward
it, Da’shay turned around snake-fast and pointed at her. “Mine!” she barked
out. The woman froze, and then Da’shay smiled sweetly before reaching out to
grab Tom’s hand.

“Oh no,” Tom said as he held onto the hold bar.

“Da’shay, maybe you’d like to look out a window,” Ramsay
said and Tom could hear the panic in his voice too. Whoever had let Da’shay
come along on this mission needed a full psych evaluation and Tom was including
Ramsay in that group. However, Tom eventually had to give up or let Da’shay
pull his arm off. She tugged him over to the seat and pushed him down before
promptly dropping down into his lap and draping an arm over his shoulders.

“I like red,” she announced grandly. She tilted her head and
gave Tom an intense stare, like when his ma had tried so hard to teach him how
to read. She’d sit with a bucket of peas for shelling and point to the words on
an old primer as she tried to get Tom to read. He remembered that intense
expression, only he didn’t see it directed his way much. Da’shay had that look
down real good, though. Just like back then, he got the feeling he was missing
something important.

Several people on the car were smiling now and the old man
chuckled even louder.

“You have a handful there, mister. I guess she gets her
way.”

Tom glared. Oddly, the old man chuckled more.

“Look, the mountain sings,” Da’shay announced loudly,
pointing out the window at the enormous towers of rock the train was now
speeding toward. Her face relaxed until it looked blissful, and her fingers
idly caressed his shoulder. The familiar touch unsettled him a bit so he
focused out the window. Arches and spires and stone bridges looked like giant
building blocks carefully stacked up to make a children’s toy, but three
million people lived in the city carved by lasers out of the mountain that used
to stand here. “Singing, calling for people to come see her and slip through
her shadows,” Da’shay said, her voice dreamy.

Well fuck. Da’shay really was having a bad day and they were
supposed to be tracking down a smuggler. Tom might have asked what else could
go wrong, only he had a real deep-set belief that asking questions like that
always brought the bad on faster. So instead of saying anything, Tom just sat
and tried to focus on a rivet on the far wall while Da’shay twisted and turned
in his lap, looking out first one window and then the other as she rubbed on
him. He knew she was a killer, but he’d never known she was so good at torture.
If she kept this up for too much longer, Tom was going to whip his cock out and
jerk off right in the middle of the damn train. The mission protocol did say to
go out of their way not to look like cops after all.

Da’shay’s smile widened as the city grew closer.

“Tom, you okay?” Ramsay asked softly as they stood in the
deepest shadows of the city and waited for their mark.

“Now you’re asking?” Tom asked. He’d managed to find a nice,
dark corner and Da’shay had bugged off somewhere, so he was actually better now
that he didn’t have her rubbing on him. From a distance, the capital looked
like a fantasy, but up close, the lower levels were little more than long
tunnels bored through the solid rock. True, the tunnels were wider than the
Kratos
and had vaulted ceilings with long strings of yellow lights, but then the
stores pressed so close together at some points that there was only six or
seven feet of walking space left in the center and the crowds pushed through.
Tom felt as if he were buried alive. After three days in his quarters, he
wanted to see sky. In Capital City, only those rich enough to live in the upper
levels where the mountain was carved into hundreds of towers had any sort of
view.

“Did seem awkward to ask earlier,” Ramsay said. “I’m
thinking that she’s getting stranger.”

Tom looked at Ramsay.

“You don’t have to say it,” Ramsay said wearily.

“Say what?”

“I told you so. You have it written all over your face, and
yes, she is acting a mite bit more strange than usual, but don’t go thinking
with your gun, Tom.”

“Never considered it,” Tom said, not commenting when Ramsay
gave him an incredulous look. “I’m just not sure I trust her to not talk ship’s
business,” Tom said, his words vague even though he didn’t have any cause to
think that anyone was eavesdropping.

“She never has before, and we’re not the first ship she’s
served on.”

Tom snorted. He’d seen what happened when she served on
other ships.

“There.” Ramsay pointed to a man coming out of a drinking
place. Tom shifted so he could rest his hand on his gun. Messa Tyles…the man
who arranged most of the business for Captain Smyth of the
Reseda
along
with a dozen other ships that ran the borders between slaver space and Corps
controlled territories. At one point, Tyles had been an impressive man, but now
he only had a thin crown of gray hair and a huge gut. He had to be about the
same age as Ramsay, maybe even younger, but he hadn’t kept nearly as fit. “If
you have to shoot him, take out a leg,” Ramsay said before he strode across the
street.

“Tyles! Messa Tyles!” he called, his voice warm. The captain
smiled so that he looked like a friendly old white-haired grandfather greeting
a friend. No one even looked twice. Tom slipped along in the shadows, watching
as Tyles turned and studied the street with blurry eyes. It took him far too
long to spot Ramsay. Tom didn’t mind getting shit-faced drunk, but he never did
it unless he had someone there to watch his back. Tom couldn’t find anyone in
the shadows watching Tyles’ back.

Ramsay swung an arm across the man’s back. “Jonathan Ramsay,
captain of the
Kratos
,” Ramsay introduced himself. “You’ve given us a
couple of jobs.”

“Oh.” Tyles seemed to think about that for a few seconds and
that gave Ramsay the chance to maneuver him toward an awkward little space
created when two shopkeepers built their squared off shops in a stone curve. It
was a tight space, maybe twice the size of Tom’s quarters, but it looked like
most everyone used the strange little triangle-shaped corner to stack up empty
barrels and splintered crates. “You looking for work?”

“Let’s talk,” Ramsay suggested, guiding Tyles into the
narrow gap. That seemed to go a long way toward sobering Tyles up. Without
warning, he shoved Ramsay into the wall and turned to run. Tom had his gun out
before Tyles got more than two stumbling steps away. The bullet hit Tyles in
the back of the knee and he went down in a heap of sprawled limbs and howls of
rage.

“You shot me!” Tyles bellowed as Tom tossed him farther back
into the space. In less than ten seconds, Tom had taken Tyles’ main gun and
checked him for weapons.

“I’ll shoot you again if you keep up your caterwauling,” Tom
warned. Tyles limited himself to a moaning cry as he clutched his bleeding leg.

“He destroyed my knee,” Tyles complained to Ramsay, his
voice high and whining, which didn’t seem right considering the man was involved
in the import and export of everything from guns to slaves to crates full of
embryos that exploded. Seemed as though a man like that should face a bullet
wound with a little more dignity. Ramsay knelt down and wrapped a pressure cuff
around Tyles’ upper thigh, slowing the bleeding to a trickle.

“Yep, that’s a real bitch. I recently had to have a shoulder
replaced and I have to say, joint injures are about the worst, aren’t they,
Tom?”

Tom shoved his gun back into its holster and wiped Tyles’
weapon clean of fingerprints using his shirt tail before putting it on top of
the nearest crate. “Yep.” His hip still ached if he sat too long.

Ramsay pulled out a hypo of pain killer and jammed it into
Tyles’ thigh. The little gasping whines that Tyles had been making slowly faded
away as the painkiller kicked in. “It’s even worse on old shits like us. Now,
do I have your complete attention?”

“What? Yes. Whatever you want, you let me know and I’ll get
it. I have access to a lot of people…merchandise…money.”

With a sigh, Ramsay patted Tyles on the shoulder as he
crouched down beside the man. “I know I told you that I preferred to stay close
to the legal line. True, the profits are there for those who step over the
line, but I didn’t want to step too far over that line.”

“Yeah, yeah , and I’ve always taken care of you. That last
job…that was a good one. Genetically enhanced cattle. That was a good job.”

Tom was starting to think that either the alcohol or the
blood loss was starting to affect Tyles.

“Let’s talk about that job,” Ramsay said in that friendly
tone that meant he was about to rip someone a new asshole. “See, that job
should have been a simple one, only Captain Smyth refused to deliver the goods.
In fact, he went from doubling the price to refusing to let us have the goods
at any price at all.”

“What?” Tyles looked alarmed…or more alarmed, anyway.

“Yep. He double crossed me, but here’s the part that really
pisses me off. When I called my ship in, venting the engines made that crate
explode. That’s why I had to have my shoulder replaced and Tom over there had
to replace a hip and most of the skin on his left side. That wasn’t fun, was
it?”

“Nope,” Tom agreed. The captain was exaggerating a bit about
Tom’s injuries, but Tom figured he was making a point, and it was working.
Tyles was white now, so white that Tom was starting to think that he might pass
out before giving them any information.

“I didn’t…but…when?” Tyles finally settled on asking.

Ramsay slowly stood up and then sort of loomed over Tyles
for a minute or so before answering. “We just got out of the hospital and Smyth
is not going to be coming back at all. In fact, I have to wonder if you told
him what he was carrying. Most men are more careful around a load of explosives
big enough to take out a ship.” Ramsay leaned against a crate and let his hand
rest on his gun. “So, all I need from you is a name. Where did those explosives
come from, Tyles?”

Tyles pushed himself back with his hands, leaving a red
trail as he bled. “I can’t. I mean…I can’t.”

With a sad expression, Ramsay shook his head. “Now see,
that’s a problem, because I’m trying to be forgiving. I’m so forgiving that I’m
not interested in having you find out how unpleasant it is to have a shoulder
blown apart—or a hip.” Ramsay sucked air through his front teeth. “I think I’m
being plenty nice by not making you feel how much me and my crew suffered
because the job you sent us on literally blew up in our faces. And because I’m
being so nice, I’m expecting you to be nice in return. So, one friend to another,
where did that crate come from?”

Tyles looked from Ramsey to Tom and back again, the whites
of his eyes showing all around the blue center. “He’s dangerous. You don’t want
to get involved with him.” Tyles’ voice had that annoying whine in it again.

“I’m dangerous,” Ramsay said, his voice barely louder than a
whisper. “Tom over there is dangerous. Luckily Tom and I think of you as a
friend. You’ve gotten us work and we appreciate that. If we didn’t, we’d feel a
need to let you know just how much it hurts to have a shoulder and a hip blown
out, wouldn’t we, Tom?”

Tom moved a little closer. “I wouldn’t mind sharing a little
pain,” Tom agreed.

“Maybe you should shoot him once in the hip and once in the
shoulder, just to show us how much we enjoyed that last job,” Ramsay said. Tom
pulled out his gun and pointed it, hesitating for a second because if he did
this, he and Ramsay were both crossing a line. Shooting a fleeing suspect was
bad, but shooting one who was on the ground looking as if he was about to vomit
was significantly worse.

“No! No! Wait. It was Veska Hou. He runs embryo labs up in
Palapa Tower. It was Veska Hou.” Tyles blurted out. “It was Veska Hou.” The
third time, he whispered. Rolling onto his side, he sank back down to the
concrete and lay there curled up. Tom put his weapon away and Ramsay crouched
down next to Tyles again.

“Who can we call for you? Who can help you?” Ramsay asked,
his voice going from dangerous to sincere in an instant.

“My handheld. Jeremy Hick.”

Ramsay patted Tyles shoulder and pulled the handheld out of
Tyles’ pants pocket before flipping it on. Tom retreated and turned back toward
the street.

“His friend’s coming, let’s go,” Ramsay said, walking past
Tom. Tom followed the captain without looking back. If the bastard had to lie
in bed while the docs regrew a joint, it served him right for setting them up.

Ramsay stopped several times, looking through city terminals
and maps trying to find the Palapa tower. As far as Tom was concerned, this
whole place was built like a maze, but he suspected the engineers were carving
wide curves and tunnels that split and split again in order to carve out veins
of softer rock. No matter the reason, Tom found himself getting more and more
uneasy as he followed Ramsay into what was feeling like a rat trap.

As they moved up in the towers through a series of
escalators and elevators, arched windows started to interrupt the stone walls,
letting light spill into the cool tunnels. And the farther up they traveled,
the more out of place they looked. Down in the lower city, no one had looked at
them, but these wide, well-lit tunnels were full of middle class merchants and
business people in neat clothing. Tom started closing the gap between him and
the captain since there really wasn’t much tactical reason for the separation
at this point. People were going to know they were together no matter how much
distance Tom kept between them.

“You starting to feel like maybe we don’t fit in here?”
Ramsay asked when Tom fell in next to him.

“Was starting to consider it,” Tom agreed. He frowned as a
woman passed him with a shiny collar with a silver chain lying against her blue
shirt. Made him feel real strange to know that someone owned that woman. Corps
said that the slaver worlds were full of abuse and corruption and Tom tended to
believe them. It wasn’t so much that he thought the government was all-knowing
but rather that people tended to treat those below them like shit. It was just
human nature, as far as Tom was concerned. A man in a gray suit passed them and
made a little disgusted noise.

“Next time, maybe you should bring Eli,” Tom suggested. At
least Eli looked respectable.

“I didn’t figure we’d get this high up the food chain quite
this fast.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so Tom followed past a sign
hanging from the stone ceiling that announced they were entering Palapa Tower
right next to a hieroglyph of a palm tree. Small shops still dotted one side of
the walkway, but now there were arched windows with glass tinted green and
pink.

After walking for what felt like a mile, they ran into a
glass wall that clearly marked where public space ended and private property
started. Without hesitating at all, Ramsay pulled the glass door open and
strode into the space. A tall man with a thick collar and large handheld stood
up from a small desk and gave Ramsay a dismissive and disgusted look.

“This is private property,” he announced grandly.

“I assume that’s why you had a door put up,” Ramsay said.
“We’re here to see Mr. Veska Hou.”

“Do you have an appointment?” Ah, so he was the
secretary…and from the fact that he wasn’t even checking his handheld, he
already knew Tom and the captain weren’t on the guest list.

“Yep. Since about three weeks ago when his cargo blew up in
my face.” Ramsay walked right past the man and toward the west side of the
suite. Tom had noticed the secretary glance that way too, so he figured it was
a good guess for where to find Hou. The secretary went running after Ramsay,
reaching out as if he was going to grab him, and Tom darted forward, grabbing
the little man by the arm and giving him one good shake.

“You do not go grabbing people, got it?” Tom asked with
another shake. The man hadn’t answered, but Ramsay was opening a huge, ornate
door, so Tom dropped the secretary and headed after him.

“But you can’t do that! I’ll call security!” he called after
them. The moment Ramsay opened the door, Tom knew the secretary was bluffing.
The man sitting behind the desk was clearly the boss—and he was blue. Unlike
fools who painted themselves, this one had the wide face and huge shoulders of
a real
genta
, and if
genta
had a problem, they handled it
themselves. As near as Tom could figure, they didn’t even understand the
concept of Corps or security.

“We need to talk to you.” Ramsay strolled into the enormous
office.