Salvaged Destiny (4 page)

“Well?”

“Pistachio. One of my favorites.”

“Mine too.” Del smiled with anticipation and glanced over at
Casta to find him smiling. So he liked the same sort of cookies she did. That
didn’t mean anything.

They slipped into the service alley on the Lower Boulevard
and made many stops. There were a lot of quick counters in this neighborhood
and soon the cart was nearly full. The lieutenant was a good worker. Once he
knew what to do he was as fast as she was, but they still were falling behind
since he liked to speak to everyone they encountered. She’d hoped to be done
before lunchtime, but that was ever more unlikely the more he chatted with
little old ladies about the best dishes they served at their restaurants.

“We’re full. Time to head outside and get rid of it all.”

The lieutenant nodded and settled in to his seat, bracing
himself with large booted feet and one thick arm looped around the transport
hang bar overhead. “Have you made a decision about the job yet?”

Del had but there was no reason to tell him now. He would be
useful unloading all of this stuff once they reached the agricultural sections.
He looked as strong as a new Cat-Mor hydraulic lifter.

“Not yet.”

“Any more questions?”

Del nodded as she drove up the incline to the northern gates
and accelerated to the transport’s top speed once they exited the port and were
out in the sunshine again. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the
living air. “How long would this take and how much would I be paid?”

“I have no idea how long it would take. If you would like,
you could pull over and let me drive so that you can look over the coordinates Citizen
Kidd developed. You’d be the one who would know how hard the search might be.”

“Are you a good driver?”

“I’m certified on twelve different personal vehicles.
Everything from a gaseous submersible to a twenty-person hovercraft.” The funny
thing was Lazlo didn’t sound boastful. He sounded as if he genuinely wanted to
reassure her that he was capable.

“This is just a broken-down, twenty-years-out-of-date cart
with sticky brakes and no suspension. Do you have certification on one of
these?”

“No. But I’ll figure it out.”

“Just don’t figure it out after you crash us into a wall.”

They switched places on the cart seat. Del opened up the
documents and started to scan through the maps. Three possible locations—all in
the southeast quadrant, the section she’d spent the least amount of time
exploring, mostly due to its tough terrain. And the fact that her father had
been injured out there five years ago and she’d spent the better part of a day
dragging him out, frightened and exhausted.

There was more than enough good stuff to find in the more
moderate cliffs and gullies of other parts of Sayre. She was no silly portie,
wandering off by herself to certain danger.

“This is bad country,” Del mused, flicking through several more
displays, each more formidable than the last. “Lots of tall cliffs with lots of
hiding places. I’m not as familiar with the area because it’s too dangerous to
explore alone. It’s so rough—it’s going to be hard to make a thorough search.”

“But you can do it?”

“Of course I can,” she replied absently, still concentrating
on the information. “And Avo Kirk cannot. Not that I’m trying to run him down,
he’s just not the man for this kind of thing. He’s more of a take-you-to-some-scenic-spots-to-pose-for-neat-digimas
kind of guy.”

She looked up at an approaching intersection between two
manioc fields and warned Casta to slow down and then turn left. They could
smell the swine operation well before they saw it—low beige buildings in
between an orchard of fig trees and a field full of sunflowers. There were two
carts parked beside it, but no people were visible. Citizen Hoke, the owner,
had put up trellises outside his buildings and they were filled with lush
curtains of purple-flowered vines. Some sort of spice, she thought. In any
case, they were beautiful.

Casta drove the cart around to the side of the largest
building and Del hopped off to knock on yet another door. Parnell Hoke opened
up quickly and the aroma of hog swept over them. Casta turned a bit green. The
animals inside made a lot of noise—they knew what came in that door and they
were excited. Parnell was excited too. He was already directing one of his
workers to start unloading the vegetables.

“We have some extra bakery stuff. Do you want that today?”

“Sure, I’ll give it to the sows. They deserve a treat. Those
piglets are insatiable.”

* * * * *

“I had no idea there was this much work involved in trash.”

“You probably put out your bin and it just disappears,”
Delphine Browen responded with a nearly undetectable note of sarcasm.

“Right.” Lazlo never had thought much about it. Why would he
when he was off doing adventuresome law enforcement things?

“There’s always someone like us picking it up and doing
something with it.”

“So what did we just do?”

“My family has contracts with different restaurants and
markets to collect their unusable produce and waste oil. We pick it up at their
doors and haul it away for a small fee. Usually pick up every other day. Then
we take it to other places and sell it to someone who can use it. Like the
waste cooking oil gets fired and refined by the synthboard manufacturers to use
in their binding agents, I think. But all of the biologic material is valuable
here because it contains the essential components of nutrition that we humans
can use in our bodies. We have to cycle it through the system as much as
possible.”

Lazlo watched Del Browen as she drove her dilapidated
transport cart back toward the family business. They’d had a drink and washed
their hands at a roadside well and were now eating the cookies, which happened
to be delicious. He eyed the orchards as they passed them, thinking a piece of
fresh fruit would be perfect. But of course, that would be theft and Lazlo
couldn’t do that, no matter how much his subconscious clamored for it. His
subconscious was also starting to warm up about something else, but that too
would be wrong. Not for the first time, Lazlo wondered why so many of the
things he desired were so hazardous—more cookies, purloined fruit, driving too
fast, women.

“So you make money at both ends of the process.”
Very
smart business planning.

“We do if we keep the contracts. And it’s not that much
money, in any case,” Delphine informed him with a dour expression. He could
believe that—the margin had to be narrow.

“Have you made a decision about helping me?” Lazlo realized
the entire morning had passed as he’d experienced firsthand the hard work that
went on behind all the restaurants’ back doors. Maybe he should volunteer to
take a few shifts as a delivery person and learn more about where all the
edible food went.

Del frowned and kept watching the road. “This project isn’t
attractive. It’s really rough terrain and there are only vague locations. Let’s
not forget payment for me only if we find something, not for all my time and
effort even if we come up short. You have to admit, there are a lot of reasons
to say no.”

“Is there anything attractive about it?” He did his best to
look appealing but doubted that she would be impressed since he had cookie
crumbs on his shirt and several smears of something brownish-green on his
boots.

Del sniffed and glanced over at him. “A few things, but the
negatives are foremost in my mind at this point.”

Lazlo fought back the urge to talk with her more. He was
getting the impression Del Browen was not the sort of person who could be
talked into anything. But he could try to be nice.

“Now you have me worried, since you’re an expert and think
it’s too dangerous.” Not that he had much of a choice—his assignment was clear.
He’d have to hire Avo Kirk if she declined, and if Kirk refused Lazlo would
have to go out on his own. Now
that
was frightening.

“Maybe I’m trying to up my price. It’s not too dangerous,
but it’s difficult. But I can’t…” She slowed and they approached the open and
corroded metal gates of her family’s property. “Galaxy help me, but I’ll do it.”

Lazlo grinned with relief and tried to shake her hand, but
she was still driving and shook him off. “Great, let’s start planning. I—”

“I don’t want to talk about this here,” Del broke in. “Too
many ears and too many relatives.” Del brought the transporter to a halt and
hit her datpad a few times. “And I don’t want them to know you’ve hired me for
this foolish expedition. They’ll ask too many questions, especially my father. Botheration,
I’m just not interested in concocting an elaborate cover story. Since it’s all
so secret.” Del Browen hunched her shoulders and looked irritated.

“So what do you want me to say?”

She turned in the seat and looked him square in the face. “
You
concoct some elaborate cover story. And make it quick.”

Lazlo almost held his breath—she looked so determined and
fierce. And she was going to help him. He now had a chance of succeeding at
this. Dee Dee bounded up to the transport and did a genuine double take.

“Lazlo Casta! How nice to see you. Were you helping Del? What
a gentleman!” She grinned back and forth between them and he had an idea. It
would probably get him in trouble with Del, but she had told him to come up
with a reason for them to be spending time together. And this reason made
perfect sense.

“Yes, I’m trying to get her to go out to dinner with me.”

As Dee Dee laughed and clapped her hands, her older sister
turned in the seat and stared at him with disbelieving gray eyes.

“Go out with him, Del. Don’t make him haul trash with you. That’s
not romantic at all.” She giggled and leaned his way, lowering her voice and
watching her sister. “She’s just not good at this sort of thing. Don’t let her
sneak away from you. She’d rather go hide in the hills and look for weird rocks
than spend time with a man.”

“Stow it, Dee Dee,” Del growled and hopped out of the
transporter, striding toward the back of the open bay, her broken-down boots
thumping on the old deck plating. She’d looked angry and embarrassed before she
left and Lazlo was worried that his spontaneous idea had been a horrible
failure.

“Excuse me.” Lazlo abandoned Dee Dee and began to follow
Del. She moved quickly, dodging around stacked crates and stalled vehicles.

“Wait, Citizen Browen. Delphine, please.”

Del stopped suddenly and he almost walked into her. She was
small enough that he could have easily knocked her down. He took a step back so
he wouldn’t crowd her.

“That’s the best you could do?” She turned around, anger
snapping in her eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”

“What, I’m not your type?”

“Don’t joke about this. No one is going to believe you would
be interested in me.”

“Your sister did.”

“Dee Dee thinks that everyone is as irresistible as she is.”

“You asked me to come up with a story.”

“Believable, not an utter fantasy.” Del’s cheeks were
flushed and her eyes were bright and it would have been nice to think she was
excited, but it was more likely that she was both embarrassed and irritated. Not
a good combination of emotions.

Lazlo took a deep breath. He’d just gotten her to agree to
help him. He shouldn’t be antagonizing her already. She was uncomfortable with
the idea so he needed to repair this somehow. “I’m sorry. Are you involved with
someone?”

“No, of course not.” She took a deep breath and looked at
the deck plate below her dirty boots. “You’re right, I did ask you to come up
with a story. But come up with something better than that one.”

“I can do that.” Lazlo thought hard and had a bolt of
inspiration. “How about I’ve hired you to help me test surveillance equipment
out there? I’ve been working with designing a new layout for the security
visual feeds and we just got in some new drones, so it makes sense.”

She smiled and nodded. “That’s very good. Yes, that will
work very well.” Clearing her throat, Del took a step his way and Lazlo
automatically leaned toward her. “Can you understand why we can’t discuss this
around here? There’s always someone lurking about.” She said all of this in a
rush, her voice quiet and strained.

“I understand,” he agreed, keeping his own voice low. “And
we do have to be discreet. The sheriff will likely not be pleased that we’re
doing this.”

Del sighed and shook her head. “Now you tell me. The last
thing my family or I needs is to get in trouble with Harata. You have no idea
how difficult he could make our lives if he wanted to.”

“You’re right, I don’t have any idea. But I promise I’ll do
everything I can to keep you and your family away from his attention.”

“Funny, I actually believe you mean that.” Del narrowed her
eyes and studied him for a moment, shoulders marginally less tense than they
had been. Lazlo guessed he had been given a second chance.

Looking at his datpad, Lazlo sighed. Del had sent him a list
of supplies required before they set out the next morning and he was
frustrated. It reminded him of the equipment lists he’d had at the Academy for
field exercises. And those had been for classes like underwater combat
techniques and free-fall target practice.

Del’s attention to detail would have impressed his training
sergeants. Over forty-nine items listed and Lazlo hadn’t managed to locate more
than thirty. He considered the idea of bringing along a few of his experimental
bots, but wasn’t sure if Del would think they were dead weight. It was late and
he needed to sleep because she expected him at their rendezvous, fully loaded
at first light.

His apartment was a wreck—drawers and closet doors open,
storage boxes rifled through, stacks of clothing and accessories covering most
flat surfaces. Lazlo wasn’t a tidy person by nature but the current chaos was
unsettling. He kept thinking that some vital thing he was missing was hidden
beneath the clutter.

There was a barely audible noise that he recognized as the
chime of his datpad. Where had he left it? Lazlo began to shuffle through his
misplaced belongings, the datpad’s lonely call growing louder and louder until
finally he located it underneath a stack of undershirts.

Glancing at the callers, Lazlo realized that the day’s data
pod must have transferred through. There was a message from his brother and
judging by the tally, it was a long one. And a message from Serra, his former
girlfriend—much shorter, of course. Glancing at the debris around him, he
decided he needed a break and would be better able to pack and clean up once he’d
heard what his brother had to say. Serra’s message, however, would not make him
feel better at all. Just seeing her name on the message made him cringe.

Slumping on his sofa next to some coiled climbing rope, he
opened the first message, his brother Mart’s smiling face suddenly appearing in
front of him.

“Lazlo. How are you? I’m at Peli Harbor with the crew on the
Regenta
and wanted to get this message off before we start to celebrate.”
The peachy waters of Freton were visible behind his brother’s head and Lazlo
could make out some of the decking of the
Regenta
, the luxury cruiser
that was his family’s latest venture. His mother had joked about reverting to
the family’s distant legacy of piracy when they had designed it and she wasn’t
far from wrong—the ship wasn’t designed for attack and looting, but rather
gambling, mood-altering and physical pleasures, all of which separated people
from their money quite effectively.

Evidently his brother was on board for the inaugural cruise,
which was no surprise since he was as devoted to amusement as he was to making
money.

“Everything is going well here. The family is all healthy,
say hello, all of that, and Dooney and Bet are doing really well in school this
section. This ship is amazing. You would love it, so take a vacation and get
back here to see it.” His brother sighed and leaned closer to the screen. “I
still can’t believe you would prefer arresting farmers for spilling manure to
being here with our ocean and beautiful women. There are some upper-level
females on board right now. I’m sure you could find someone to settle down
with, produce a few cousins for my girls to pal around with.” Yet again, his
brother was promoting the idea of marital bliss and fatherhood as a good goal
for Lazlo. Mart had never understood Lazlo’s inability to stay in one place and
with one person. Lazlo didn’t understand it himself. He wanted it but it just
never seemed to happen.

“But I know, I know, you aren’t in any sort of situation to
be thinking about it. All of your transfers and training and strange work
hours. And after what happened with that woman, I can’t blame you. I’m sorry,
bad topic.” Mart knew about Serra and sympathized. He understood how
humiliating the whole situation had been for Lazlo. With the advantage of
nearly a year apart, Lazlo finally understood what a damaging person Serra had
been. Everyone had warned him, but while he’d been ensnared in her
manipulations, he’d been oblivious, concerned only with helping her and not
protecting himself.

But his brother shook his head, then he laughed. “So maybe you’ve
found some rustic beauty to cozy up with? I hope you have. You need something
to occupy your time out there in the fields with all of those harvesters and grain
bins. What is Sayre’s biggest crop? You told me last time. Is it palm nut oil? Or
taro root? Neither one even sounds appetizing. In any case, I hope that your
job is going well too, much as I don’t understand that one either. People still
can’t believe my little brother is in the security service, and an officer no
less. You’re definitely unique for a Casta. Are things better with that new
commander of yours? Your last message indicated he might be out to get you. We
have ways of dealing with that, you know.”

Lazlo’s brother picked up the recorder and panned around the
deck of the
Regenta
—red wood, bright white trim, shiny titanium fittings
and beyond it all, the waters and islands of Freton in all their appealing
beauty. Lazlo felt a sudden stab of homesickness.

“We’d love to see you. Come home for a few days, relax, eat
and drink well, have some fun. See our new ship, take a short cruise. Spend
some time with your nieces. Bring along a farmer girl if you have one.”

And with that, his brother ended the message, leaving Lazlo
to contemplate his life. Here he was, in a small apartment carved out of a
cliff, alone. Working many hours in a stressful job, surrounded by equipment he
would need in the morning as he ventured off on a perilous assignment guaranteed
to fail. Even his hired expert had low expectations. Del had ended her list of
requirements with a dour warning that they would certainly need something they
hadn’t packed.

She was a strange one. What would she think of the
Regenta
?
Or of the self-indulgent lifestyle of Freton? She’d probably be shocked and
then try to hike away into the hills.

Lazlo thought about the next message from Serra and felt
guilty for not wanting to listen to it. But he should—otherwise it would bother
him all night and he wouldn’t sleep. He clicked it open and watched his former
lover’s haggard face appear. The background wasn’t the beautiful landscape of
Freton, but rather the plain white wall of the clinic where she was being
treated—not for the first time—for addiction disorder. Serra looked
undernourished and shifty, her usual appearance ever since she’d been
incarcerated for theft and then committed to the clinic this latest time.

“Lazlo, how are you?” Serra managed to look interested for a
second, but then her focus shifted back to its usual place—right back to
herself. “I’m not doing well here. They aren’t giving me the correct medication
and no one has been by to order any changes for me. I don’t know where anyone
has been and my mother told me to submit. Submit, that was her term, submit to
their procedures here. It’s unacceptable and I need you to come—”

Serra disappeared. The clinic only offered a set amount of
time for the patients to communicate with the outside. It was one of their many
techniques to encourage the patients to improve self-control.

Despite her moans for help, Lazlo wouldn’t and couldn’t stop
everything and make ten jumps to see to Serra’s perceived needs, even if he were
still involved with her. Which he wasn’t and he’d made that clear to her several
times during her lucid moments. And Serra didn’t want him back anyway. He was
just one more person on her list of those to use. She’d never been faithful, or
free of controlled pharmaceuticals, in the whole time he’d known her. Serra was
being cared for perfectly well even if it wasn’t the care she thought she
should have.

Lazlo sighed and wished fervently that this time the
treatment would work, that this time the doctors would be able to find just the
right spot in the young woman’s brain and tweak it just enough to eliminate her
inability to control herself when it came to so many things—drink, drugs, sex,
gambling. She was a master at destroying herself and others with each and every
vice.

If only she could be well. Her poor mother deserved a child who
wasn’t going to steal from her and blame her for her troubles. Lazlo was just
coming to accept that he deserved to fall in love with someone who treated him
well in return, not someone who had betrayed him and damaged his reputation
with every move she made. His counselor would be so pleased.

Not for the first time, Lazlo wished he had a friend to talk
with about it—to express a little of the frustration and guilt, to hear someone
say it wasn’t his fault. His counselor cared, but it was just professional
concern. He looked around at all of the disorder in his life and felt
overwhelmed. The door pinged with the custom tone he’d programmed the day he’d
moved in and he rose and walked over.

Checking the monitor, he saw his mentor Detective Chin,
smiling and holding up one of the items Lazlo hadn’t been able to locate from Citizen
Browen’s list—a respirator filter. Feeling much better, he opened the door and
caught the faceplate as his coworker tossed it to him, then sauntered into the
apartment, taking in all of the debris with quirked eyebrows.

“What the crack is all this?” he drawled, his Obregon slur
elongated for emphasis. Chin was dapper, contained and darkly suspicious. Lazlo
always felt like a badly shaved bear whenever they went out together—he was
lumbering and too eager to please while woman after woman bypassed him and
fluttered to Chin’s side. But the man was resourceful—witness the filter Lazlo
had needed. And Chin knew all there was to know about how things worked on
Sayre, which was a great asset to Lazlo.

“I’m trying to pack for a hike. That’s why I needed the
filter and messaged you when I couldn’t find mine.”

“No wonder you couldn’t find it. This place is a mess.”

“It’s not so bad. It’ll be fine once I pack my bag for
tomorrow.”

“I’m sure packing a bag will make a dent in it.” Chin
wandered into the kitchen and opened the chiller, looking for an ale, Lazlo
would bet. Soon enough he returned, shoving aside a pile of uncoiled rope and
taking a seat on the sofa as Lazlo looked over the filter.

“Thanks again for the filter. Have you used this?”

“Never. I don’t plan on ever leaving this port until I can
ship off. Therefore, I have no need for that fungal filter. This planet has
more infectious spores than any place on this arm of the galaxy.” Chin took a
drink and peered at Lazlo. “Why do you need all this equipment?”

“I’ve been assigned the task of testing some new
surveillance equipment. In the Outlands.”

“From Sekar? Sounds perfect for you and your little bot
friends. Isn’t Trixie going with you?”

“Can you imagine Trixie Rupti out there in the dust, toting
a bag of gear all day?” Trixie was a mutual friend, electronics officer for security,
and as Detective Chin very well knew, utterly incapable of existing without
close access to clean bathrooms and coffee bars. Chin grinned at the idea and
took another drink of his ale.

“No. Trixie would have a blister in about ten meters and
become dehydrated in about thirty.”

Chin grinned wickedly, enjoying a large swallow of Lazlo’s
last beer. He began to look through the ropes, coiling them as he separated
strands. “Are you going out alone?”

“No. I hired a guide—well, actually she’s a subcontractor
with security now, so not technically my guide.” Lazlo wondered why the
detective was so interested in what he was going to be doing, but Chin was a
curious person, which was what made him a good investigator and someone from
whom Lazlo could learn a lot.

The commander’s edict to tell no one about the real reason
he was going out weighed on Lazlo. Surely it wouldn’t be wrong to confide in a
fellow security officer. But orders were orders and Major Sekar had given him
no reason to doubt it.

Chin flexed some titanline and grinned again. “She, huh? That
has some potential.”

“No it doesn’t. I’m not getting involved with anyone here,
no matter…” Lazlo trailed off, not wanting to talk about how much he was
starting to like Del Browen and how he was looking forward to tomorrow for some
different reasons. Reasons that he shouldn’t. She was working for him—well,
with
him—and thinking about her in any personal way would not enhance the potential
for success in this mission. In fact, it would create problems and he needed
success, not another inappropriate entanglement with a woman. Even if Del Browen
was strangely fascinating in her gruff and tough way.

“Casta, wake up!” Chin interrupted Lazlo’s musings with a
sharp voice. “What’s distracting you? Message from Serra, I bet. Still the star
of her own melodrama?” Chin was entirely unsympathetic with Lazlo’s history
with the woman. He’d heard the bare essentials about Lazlo’s situation the
first night they went out and had been very harsh in all of his subsequent
advice about the relationship. Detective Chin was a walking fount of wisdom
when it came to women, addicts, liars and abuse and rightfully so, since those
were vices he dealt with every day.

“She’s still addicted to unhappiness and I’m sure lots of
other things,” was Lazlo’s dour update. “She messaged me again.”

“Tell me you didn’t reply.”

“I didn’t and I’m not going to either. That makes three
times now, Chin, so will you admit that I’m learning?”

“Good. Now we just need you to find someone else, someone
pleasant and short-term to break you in again and you’ll be good as new.”

“And where exactly on Sayre would I find such a woman? Everyone
here is at work or asleep,” Lazlo shot back as he started to stack the absolute
essential items next to his pack. Maybe he was the only one at this port who
spent all of his time working or sleeping. The detective always seemed to have
someone to meet later for drinks, unlike Lazlo.