Heart of Stone (9 page)

The Bone Arch Lodge was built sturdily
enough to withstand the winter winds, but it wouldn't win any
beauty prizes. No destination resort, this, but an outpost. A
catamount pelt flapped from the roof peak like a flag, and an
untanned skrog hide formed a crude awning over the
steps.

Named after the natural arch carved by
wind into the mountain peak, Bone Arch was an outpost, operating
outside the law most of the time, frequented by those who preferred
it that way. It was the kind of place that rewarded any display of
uncertainty or fear with a complete lack of mercy. In the coming
days, the denizens would have to decide whether to stay within the
confines of law and order, or move on. Be interesting to see who
chose which path.

The wind buffeted the cruiser, rocking
it as they dropped slowly into the open area before a large hangar
with the Masterson logo on the roof. A small hovie zipped by toward
the lodge, carrying a trio of bundled-up workers. Another headed
the other way, the open back piled high with weather-proof
containers.

Stone eyed a hangar further down the
row. A squat, military-style cruiser hunkered before it. "Someone's
running enemy surplus from the Solar Wars."

Jark grunted. "Ogre'n from the look of
it. Damn, that's ugly."

Stone nodded. The jarring pattern of
the purplish-green paint on the bulbous craft was somehow wrong to
human eyes. Probably picked up at cyber-auction by some youngster
as he'd once been, starting out with anything that would
run.

Only his problem if they tried to get
in his way. Gone was any trace of warmth from his demeanor or
Jark's. When they landed, two cold-eyed and dangerous men stepped
off into the howling wind and snow.

Another man came out of the huge hangar
to meet them. The Masterson logo was emblazoned on his vest and the
warm hat pulled down low on his head. Long silver hair straggled
beneath it, but his face was tough and youthful.

"Boss, Jark," he greeted them over the
moan of the wind. His voice held the lilting accent of Stone's
youth. MacNeil had been one of the dock rats Stone gathered into
his gang.

"MacNeil." Stone nodded toward the
hangar. "Everything snug?"

MacNeil nodded meaningfully.
"Aye."

He opened the small side-entry door
with a beep from his comlink, which had the code imbedded. The
three men walked inside.

The huge hangar was stacked with
various cargo containers. Stacks of fresh-hewn lumber perfumed the
space with the scent of the forest.

Stone cast a swift look around at his
goods. "Where are Danno and Yael?"

"They're here. Danno's watching the
back entrance, and Yael's having a meal in the galley." MacNeil
jerked his head toward the far corner of the hangar.

"All right." Stone nodded. "Let's load
it up."

"More than happy to pass it on to you.
Haven't slept well since it arrived, and not at all last
night."

"Any trouble?"

"Nah, just one of our old friends
showed up. Mobius."

"Mobius?" Stone's eyes narrowed. Ah,
the Ogre'n ship must be his. Tar Mobius and Stone had always gotten
along. In the old days they'd run several deals together and
watched each other's backs, but the Mauritian had a reckless streak
as wide as his blue forehead. He gambled with his life, those of
his crew, and anyone unwise enough to get in his way. He was one of
the old breed who would flaunt his illegality in the face of the
ISF, including running a ship from the most hated army in the
history of the galaxy—the Quark Ogre'n.

"He couldn't know it's here, could he?"
Jark rumbled.

Stone exchanged a look with his pilot.
"Won't do him any good if he does. We can beat him in a fight.
Besides, he'll be leaving soon, if he knows what's best for
him."

Jark grinned and flexed his huge hands.
"I'll hold the door. I know he saved your life once, Boss, but I
never liked him."

The three passed a long row of
containers to enter a small, bunker-like office.

A huge cerametal and titanium safe was
built into the wall and floor. At first glance it had no openings,
hinges or fastening of any kind. But MacNeil keyed in a code, and
Stone added another. The safe hummed quietly, a crack appearing on
the right side of the face. It widened until the front stood
open.

Stone stepped inside and retrieved a
flat, silvery cerametal carrier from one shelf. He handed it to
Jark, who tucked it inside his leather jacket and fastened it. No
one looking at him would know he carried anything out of the
ordinary on his person. They stepped back out.

"All right. Close her up." The safe
shut at MacNeil's command.

Jark patted his chest. "Huh. Not very
big, considering how much those Indigons charged you for
it."

Stone smiled grimly. "It will pack a
big punch when we install it and they upload the software to our
sat system." And with the installation, he would close the door on
his own past—or as much of it as he could.

He looked at MacNeil. "Call Yael. I
don't want any surprises."

In a few seconds, a tall, lanky man
appeared around the corner of the nearest pile of containers,
wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hey, Boss. Jark. Ready
to load up?"

Stone nodded. "Stay inside the front
entrance. If we're all outside, it'll be obvious we're transferring
something important."

Yael nodded. "Got it. I'll be
watching."

Jark led the way back out of the
warehouse, weapon held down at his side. MacNeil followed Stone,
his weapon drawn as well. The three men scanned the small area they
could see through the swirling snow as they crossed the short
distance to the cruiser. Then the other two chatted as Stone
quickly boarded, stowed the container in a concealed safe in the
hold. He listened briefly at the closed cubby where Rose slept,
heard nothing, and climbed back out.

The two men waited, shoulders hunched
against the icy wind. Stone looked past them at the squat Ogre'n
cruiser. He scowled as his conscience niggled at him. He owed
Mobius, at least enough to warn him the sat-com would be going live
soon.

"MacNeil, we're going up to the lodge.
You'll stay and watch the cruiser."

"Be careful, Boss. Don't like the looks
of some of the scum Mobius dragged in with him."

Jark growled, showing his teeth. "Could
be this is the day to settle that piece of space trash."

Stone shook his head. "There'll be no
trouble, just a quick word. Mac, you've the code to the cruiser.
Take her up if you have to."

MacNeil nodded, and the other two men
put their heads down and strode up the icy road to the lodge just
visible through the blowing snow. As they passed the hangar Mobius
was using, Jark paused to sniff the air.

"What's the matter?" Stone
asked.

"Thought I smelled Jango."

Stone peered into the shadows beside
the hangar. The slinking off-worlders used by pirates and slavers
to do their dirty work were universally distrusted and reviled by
the rest of the galaxy. But they hated the cold and were rarely
found anywhere that wasn't hot and dry.

"Probably just some bad fuel," Stone
replied. "Come on, we're in, we're out."

The two men walked up the broad steps
under the flapping skrog hide, and Jark made a sound of disgust.
"Could o' smelled dead skrog, too. Hell of an awning."

They paused on the wide porch to stomp
the snow off their boots, and walked into the lodge.

# # #

Rose woke slowly, stretching sinuously
under the soft coverlet. She smiled at the sweet repletion of her
body. But as her eyes opened, she stared uncomprehendingly at the
unfamiliar sight of a maroon bulkhead.

She winced as she recalled exactly
where she was. She had done it again, let Masterson love her into
unconsciousness. The man should be illegal. He probably would be on
any planet but Frontiera.

She blushed at the thought of
reentering the cockpit. Jark would certainly know what she and his
boss had been doing. But she wasn't going to hide in here for the
rest of the flight. She needed to wash in the tiny bathroom—her
inner thighs were sticky with Stone's cum.

Her clothing was draped over the foot
of the bed. On top lay her small laser gun. She smiled to herself.
Masterson had obviously figured out she wasn't going to shoot him.
In fact, the thought of any injury occurring to that magnificent
body made her stomach roll.

She washed and wriggled into her
panties, but couldn't find her bra anywhere in the covers or beside
the bed. Finally she gave up, pulled on the lace-trimmed camisole
and reached for her sweater. She smiled to herself—sex on a
cruiser.

She could picture Farah, her culinary
school roommate and best friend, squealing with delight. She
certainly hoped this sat-com project worked. She was tired of being
cut off from her friends.

A strange, sibilant hiss sounded from
beyond the tiny room. She froze with her sweater in her hands.
There was a muffled thump, and then the sound again, this time
accompanied by a garbled utterance. The timbre sent chills racing
over her bare skin.

There was something out there … and it
was not human.

# # #

As he walked into the Bone Arch Lodge,
Jark close behind him, Stone swept the main room with a look. The
area doubled as a bar and restaurant. Rough hewn of local wood, the
walls were hung with the mounted heads of big game. As Jark opined,
skrog were one of the ugliest, smelliest creatures ever to grace a
planet, but their size and ferocious appearance made them a popular
target for off-planet hunters. Catamounts with their eyes slitted,
fangs gleaming for the attack, and velvet-muzzled hormoose with
graceful drooping ears and flared black antlers filled in the
displays.

And for those who preferred their
entertainment alive, a monumental holo-vid glimmered above the
tables. A male singer postured, showing off his physique and his
melting amber gaze as he sang. The sound, however, wavered, nearly
drowned out by the voices in the room. Even galactic singing star
Chaz Jaguari couldn't conquer the poor reception in a Bone Arch
snowstorm.

This morning everyone was ignoring the
crooner anyway. On one side of the central hearth sat three tables
of hard-eyed men and women wearing the local working costume of
warm underpinnings, utility vests or jackets, and leggings. Many
were eating a morning meal, some just enjoying a hot drink. A few
nodded to the newcomers, nudged their neighbors. Conversation
faded.

On the other side of the room sat a
Mauritian, a humanoid with a strange purple-blue cast to his skin
and hair. Tar Mobius smiled when he saw Stone, not a pleasant sight
to the uninitiated. His yellow eyes flared, crooked teeth gleaming.
The motley crew surrounding him were also Mauritian, nine
tough-looking characters with a feral light in their eyes. A couple
of them were nearly as big as Jark.

Two men and a woman lounged in neutral
territory, close to the tarma-wood fire crackling in the hearth.
Skrog hunters, Masterson deduced. Slim and tanned, they were warmly
attired in fashionable winter wear. From a much warmer planet,
too—they were sitting with their feet practically in the hot fire.
The three regarded him and Jark with polite interest.

"Great," Jark muttered. "Tourists. Hope
they can duck."

"Nay," Masterson soothed. "No shooting,
remember?" He'd handle this with words, as he managed the kingdom
he'd carved here.

He sauntered through the tables to the
off-worlder. Mobius indicated the empty chair across from him, but
Masterson shook his head. He hooked his thumbs in his utility belt,
one hand hanging over his laser weapon. "Tar, you old scoundrel,"
he said. "I'm surprised to find you here."

The off-worlder threw back his head and
laughed, a gargling sound. "Masterson," he replied jovially. "What
could possibly be wrong with me and my crew stopping in for a hot
drink on a cold winter day?"

"Glad you've had your drink," Stone
said, eyeing their empty cups. "But it may be time you moved
on."

"And why is that, youngling?" Mobius
eyes twinkled craftily.

Stone returned his gaze steadily. He
had been a youngling when they met, but no longer. Rose had likened
him to a lord, and in a way he was. He had a fortune in credit,
investments and land on this planet, and he was responsible for the
livelihoods of many beings. "I think you know, but in case you
missed it, old one, law and order is coming to
Frontiera."

Mobius grunted disparagingly, but his
men watched closely. "You mean the sat-com system? It's real, then?
Thought it was a tale made up to scare old pirates."

Two of his men uttered gargling laughs
at his witticism.

"And what are you doing standing on the
side of the table with law and order, you young quarker?" Mobius
added. "Shouldn't you be taking flight as well, if these tales are
real?"