The Prize: Book One (49 page)

“If, before all this happened, by some miracle we'd got into deep space on our own and ran into someone like the Thrakee.  Or the Silurian, let alone the Empire, what do you think our chances of surviving would be?”

“Not a snowball's chance in hell... we weren't ready,” Ellis answered after a thoughtful pause.

“Exactly.  We have to find out right now if the human race has what it takes to survive, morally as well as militarily.  This is our moment.”

“Yes, you are right, as usual,” she groused.

“So what are we sitting around for?  Let's go save the human race!”

“After dinner dear,” she said, patting his hand, “once we've put the kids to bed and tucked them in.”

EPILOGUE:              Endings and Beginnings

A hot bitter wind pushed a small dust devil down what was once a clean urban street, growing as it picked up odd bits of trash, dust and discarded debris, tasting of alkali, rust, and concrete.

“This is the place?”  The yellow-eyed man asked.  His female companion sighed, and nodded in reply.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say it is."

"This place is a shithole if you ask me."

"Yeah, it is now."

Tucson, Arizona was once a bustling, modern metropolis, but the center of the once proud city was now nothing more than smashed rubble, full of scavengers, four legged and two.  The apartment buildings and warehouses now eroded into dilapidated slums, home to a ragged band of human survivors left over from the rebellion against the Tellurian Empire.  The relentless sun still beat down on the inhabitants in the summer, and the cold winds froze them in the winter.  It wasn't a place for the faint of heart.  Twenty-odd years after the KEW smashed the city flat, few survivors even remembered air-conditioning, or central heating.  Those on the outskirts didn't have much of either before the destruction, except maybe in the local bars or supermarkets.  Those businesses were gone, along with the never-ending supply chain of big rig trucks that once crisscrossed the state.

“Damn.  It's a wonder there are any people left.”  Richard Penn looked around at the inhospitable desert behind them and shook his head.  He liked it green and wet, instead of hot and dry.

“Those that stayed don't have any place else to go,” Ex-Sub-Major Ellis, late of the Tellurian Military murmured,  ”none of the other Major cities are in any better shape than this one, so why move?”

In some way, the dusty streets made Richard Penn think of what this place must have looked like back in the days of the so-called 'old west'.  The one resource they still had in abundance, was what had put Tucson on the map in the first place, water.

Cracked streets with plank sidewalks, and small businesses eking out a meager living  lay on either side.  Since the regular supply of diesel and gasoline had stopped, horses had come back into their own, standing at an old-fashioned hitch rail, flicking their tails to chase away the biting flies.  This, in turn, restarted, such things as corrals and stables.  An old Hertz sign caught Richard's eye, and he smiled slightly.  Someone had taken over the establishment, and crossed out the 'Car' in the sign.  It now read, 'Hertz Horse Rental'.  There were a few old cars and pickup trucks parked along the street, so some gas, and diesel was getting through from somewhere.  Probably from the old refineries near producing oil fields that still worked.  The supply was strictly regional, or, as always, for the rich.  Electricity came in spurts, evidenced by the flickering neon light over the entrance to the saloon.  The scene brought a smile to Richard's face.  He'd seen places like this, in old videos, back when such things existed.  The hot wind flapped the ends of their long, dark brown leather coats against their legs, giving quick glimpses of what was underneath.  Richard preferences ran to dark blue silk shirt, dark pants, and sturdy boots, under the long coat.  Ellis leaned to the wild side with an electric blue body suit that clung to every wonderful curve of her beautiful body in a daring open display of femininity.  Richard didn't really mind, but he reminded her that she was liable to start a fight dressed like that.

“Bring it on!  I'm in the mood to kick some ass.”

“Yeah?  You could try me.”

“You're no fun.  I can hardly land a punch on you, let alone hurt you.”  Ellis fluffed her red gold hair in answer.  ”Besides, we usually end up doing something else instead of fighting.”

“Yeah, true, but what a lovely way to end a fight,” he laughed softly.  ”You sure this is the place?”

“I'm sure.  If my grandfather is still alive, someone here will know how to get to Stone Mountain.”

“Hell of a place to start building an army.”

“We have to start somewhere.  There are a whole lot of warriors around here someplace, just waiting for a chance to kick someone's ass.”

“Let's just hope it's the Empire's ass they want to kick.”  Ellis knew what he meant.  The click-clack of her high-heeled boots masked Penn's soft footsteps as they walked along the short section of cracked sidewalk.  They could feel the hidden, hungry eyes of the citizens watching their progress toward the saloon.

To them, this young couple was a fortune on the hoof in today's currency, and too many eyes thought them ripe for the picking.  Not that Penn, or Ellis worried about such things.  If they came up against something they couldn't handle with their hands, hidden beneath the folds of their open coats was enough firepower to stop an Imperial MBT.  Richard also carried his favorite weapon, a razor sharp short sword whose twenty-four inches of super hard steel that could cut through bone, or if need be, steel, with ease. As for incoming ordnance, up to and including pulse blaster rounds, their long leather coats that weren’t, were actually made of anti-ballistic material, and each wore a small shield generator in the form of a gold bracelet on each wrist.  Their target was the blinking neon sign advertising a saloon.

Now, as back in the days of the old west, the saloons weren't just a place to get a drink.  It was a meeting spot, an information exchange, a whorehouse, gambling den, sometimes even a post office.  They became the center of life around which all activity revolved in these dirty pockets of the city, and Penn and Ellis walked through the bat-wing doors together in step, hearing the 'flap-flat' behind them as the bat-wings slowed to a halt on squeaky hinges.  The placed smelled of stale beer, cheap booze, and even cheaper perfume, with a hint of garlic.  Only three people, and the bartender inhabited the place.  Two guys playing cards near the door, and a drunk nursing an empty bottle sprawled across a table in the corner.

“Two beers, if you have them,” Penn ordered as they walked up to the bar, “if not we'll have whatever you are passing off as whisky around here nowadays.”  The barkeep eyed Richard hard.

Richard didn't care.  He was here to stir things up, and this was as good a place as any to start.  From what he'd seen from orbit, and now down here, the human race was content to let their numbers dwindle.  What did they have to live for? Or bring children into a shattered world.   If Michael's numbers on births and deaths were correct, the human race was going down the drain fast.  Apathy can be just as deadly as a bullet or bombs.

“We got beer, but it will cost you.”  The barkeep growled, eye the two teenagers up and down.  He pegged them for a couple of rich kids, maybe from California, wondering where they'd hid their ride.

“What's the going rate?”

“What you got?  Imperial credits, gold, silver, drugs… or something else to trade?”  His eyes slid to Ellis.  She looked back at him with a perfectly arched eyebrow, but said nothing.

“How about this?”  Penn placed a porta-comp on the bar and touched the 'on' switch.  Penn noticed the look the bartender shot Ellis; silently hopping she wouldn't smack the crap out of the guy just yet.  They needed information first.

The bar tender's eye flew open.  Tech.  No one ever had tech, especially working tech.  The thought made the bartender's heart start to pound.  From the look of it, this was really the top of the line.  Anyone with tech could name his, or her, own price.  Working tech even higher.  The bartender's mind raced.  Did this kid really know what he had?  Did he have more?  If so, how much?

“What else you got?”  Trying to sound disinterested.  Penn took a flat, round box out of his pocket and placed it on the bar.  The barkeep reached out to open it.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”  Penn said, halting the reaching hand.

“How come?”

“Because, I don't want to chase this damn thing all over the room, that's why,” saying that, he pressed the button on top to activate the capture field and carefully unscrewed the lid.  As he moved it away, a flat, silvery disk lifted out of the box a few inches.  One look and the barkeep knew he was looking at high-grade Cg material.  The look in the man's eye told Penn everything he needed to know.

“This all you got?” The barkeep tried to hide his excitement.  It made sense to find out if the kid had a source before killing him.

“I might have more… if the price is right.”

If processed correctly, and added to the right metal, there was enough contra-gravity material to lift a spacecraft into orbit and beyond.  So, why, the bartender wondered, was the kid so stupid to walk around with a King's ransom in his pocket?

“I need to ask around to see who can work a deal on something like this."  The bartender's eyes darted back and forth between the porta-comp and the box.

That didn't surprise Penn.  A small-time barkeep wouldn't have the recourses to handle something this big.  He might have a contact who knew someone, who might have the contact to put him in touch with someone who did.  “It might take me some time to find someone…”

“No problem, but you have until this evening before we go somewhere else.  How about those beers?  And do you have anything to eat?”  Penn cut him off.

“Cold roast beef, and homemade bread, cheese, onions.”  It wouldn't hurt to feed them and put them at ease. 

“That will do for a start.  What about later?”

“Might have some beef stew going by then, if the cook's sober.”  Penn placed three Imperial gold credits on the counter top.  The man jerked back slightly.  Gold was also pretty rare these days.

“Make sure he is, and that it's real beef, not dumpster bunny.”  Meaning rat.

“Also got me some hard-boiled eggs, but they cost…”  Penn added another gold credit to the first three.

“And a room.” 

The barkeep thought of dickering for more, until he looked into those yellow eyes again.  He felt a shiver run up his back.  A kid he might be, but he saw something those eyes, something hard, killing hard and thought better of it.  This guy was no virgin no matter how young he looked.  Penn careful retrieved the porta-comp and the box and slipped them back into his pocket before following Ellis to an empty table in the back corner.

As he sat, he swept the barroom again.  The owner had knocked down the dividing walls between this building and the ones on either side, and added support pillars where the original walls stood to create this space.  He'd also put any competitor within a twenty-mile radius out of business.  Not exactly by the methods approved or recommended by the Tucson University School of Business, or the local Better Business Bureau, but more or less in line with local customs.  Cornering the local market was a time honored American tradition, even if it did mean putting your competitors out of business, permanently.  The barkeep arrived a few moments later with the beer and the makings for a sandwich.

“Nice place to bring your girlfriend on a date.”  Ellis muttered as she made sandwiches for them.

Penn tipped his chair back against the wall, tapping it with his knuckles.  Behind the planking was solid stone or brick, so there was little chance of someone shooting them through the wall.  That removed one line of attack.  The wall behind Ellis was windowless, and he suspected it was brick or concrete.  That would make it the supporting wall for the next building.  To be sure, he reached out and gently kicked the all-concealing decorative planking.  A solid thump came back, eliminating a second line of attack.  Sitting side-by-side, their field of vision covered the whole room, despite the intervening pillars.  Penn felt confident they would slow an attacker down more than hinder him or Ellis.