Wings of Retribution (4 page)

“Damn it, Paul,” Morgan said, scowling.  “Just sit down.”  He forced his face into a smile for Athenais.  “Ignore him.  He’s had a bad time of the trip.  We’re grateful for the beer.  It was good.”

“It’s piss.  Barely worth drinking.”  Athenais had thought Paul was the one in charge, but the sulky manner in which he withstood Morgan’s rebuke led her to believe the bearded man was somehow the leader of the trio.

Morgan gave her a charming smile.  “In such good company, even piss seems glamorous.”  He eyed her a moment, making Athenais feel acutely like a monkey in the lush jungles of Millennium, being analyzed by an arbiter of science.  “It’s certainly not every day that you get to meet a Utopi with scars,” Morgan said after awhile.  “How…refreshing.”

Unconsciously, Athenais traced the scar over her eye.  They were fake, kept there artificially due to her condition, but they had been given to her in good faith.  “Got them from my First Mate,” she said automatically.  “He almost killed me.”

“No he didn’t,” Paul growled, almost an accusation.

Athenais glanced over at Morgan, who was smiling at her, to Stuart, who suddenly seemed intrigued with the foam at the top of his beer.  Neither of them had taken much more than a sip.  She gave Paul a long look, trying to determine just what the alien was after.  “He gouged out my eye and widened my mouth by about six inches when he tried to stab me in the neck.  He almost killed me.”

“We both know he didn’t.”

Athenais narrowed her eyes, the room suddenly seeming to sharpen around her.  Her voice lowered, she said, “What else do you know?”

Seemingly unaware of the sudden boil to the water he was stepping into, Paul blithely went on, “I know you’re the second oldest human after your insane father on Millennium, having beat out Rabbit, the third oldest, by just six days.”

At those words, Athenais felt every hair on her body shift in its pore.  Suddenly, the stained walls of the bar seemed to be a cage, with the shifter between her and the exit.  The old desperation came back, the kind that had been drilled into her from a thousand different escapes from a thousand different hellholes.  It was all she could do not to start blowing people away.

“You do realize I’m not going to let you leave here alive, right?”  Athenais managed.

Paul gave her a spiteful look.  “Your original name was Marcella Tempest, after your father Marceau.  You changed it to Athenais Owlborne, an obvious reference to the ancient human goddess Pallas-Athene and her rivalry with Mars, whose name your father bears.”

“Are you trying to
blackmail
me?”  She got to her feet, her fingers shaking with the urge to use her gun.  Normally, she would have already taken care of the problem and would be helping Giggles clean up the mess, but the information they were hurling at her was pitching her off-kilter, leaving her scrabbling for control of the situation.  “You’re goddamn fools.  All of you.”

“Not fools,” Paul said.  “Revolutionaries.  Like you.” 

Revolutionaries.  The word left a bitter taste in her mouth.  Her face darkening in a scowl, Athenais said, “I haven’t flown for rebels since those bastards in the Water Rebellion gave me over to the Utopia to hoe cabbage for thirty years on Tercia.”

“And you’d do it again in a heartbeat, given the opportunity,” Paul challenged.

They had her there.  Athenais opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove it, then groaned.  The itch to wreak havoc on her father’s perfect little plan was already at war with the itch to shove the coppery point of her pistol into Paul’s face and pull the trigger.

She reluctantly lowered herself back into her chair, eying them with irritation.  “All right.  You’ve got my attention.  But you know if this conversation goes south, you’re dead men, right?”  Then she cocked her head at the shifter and said, “Well, at least dead.”

“Knew that before we came in here,” the bearded brute said.

Athenais ran a finger along the rim of her stein.  “So what do you want?  Despite the cuteness with Giggles, you can’t make me believe you didn’t do your homework.  You intended to have this talk.  That means you also knew that Rabbit and I both like our privacy, regardless of who we have to kill to keep it.  You’re not suicidal, so there’s something you haven’t told me yet.”

The three exchanged a glance.  Athenais took another drink, pretending not to see.

“What do you know of the Millennium Potion?”  Paul finally asked.

Athenais suddenly burst out laughing, spraying beer over half the table.  Morgan had to pound her on the back before she could stop choking.  She wiped her face and said, “You want to
steal
it?  Oh my God, that’s classic.”  She slapped the malt-stained tabletop and chortled.

“What do you know of it?”  Paul repeated, his voice dangerously low.  He looked like he wanted to crush her face with a single huge fist.

Athenais gave him a sweet smile, realizing that she might have her fight, after all.  “It’s not a potion, for one.”

“It’s an injection,” Morgan agreed.  “The secret remedy that keeps all Utopis young.”

“It’s a
curse
,” Athenais snapped, swiveling to face him.  “The only person I’d ever wish it on is my father, and he
made
the damn thing.”

“You and Rabbit were two of his first test subjects,” Morgan said.

“Guinea pigs,” Athenais muttered.  “And no, I’m not helping you get it.  You ask me, we should
destroy
the Potion.”

A slow smile spread across Morgan’s lips and he leaned back, giving the other two a satisfied glance.  Stuart was watching her with a calculating look, and even Paul had reluctant approval etched into his face.

It took her a moment to make the connection.  When she did, Athenais gaped at them.  “You’re kidding.”

“What better way to stop Marceau in his tracks?”  Morgan asked.

Athenais could only stare at him.  Stealing the Millennium Potion was impossible. 
Destroying
it would take an act of God.  As much as she’d like to see it—and her father—disappear into a well-placed pulsar,
Beetle
and her crew of six were impotent against Millennium’s fleet.  The little ball of tropical islands had a battalion of ships that could defend it against anything the rest of the universe could throw at it, and then some.  Athenais was a damned good pilot, but trying to slip past its defenses would a grueling, thankless project that would doubtless end up with Beetle getting confiscated and her finances seized.  Again.

“Look, I appreciate all the preparation that went into this meeting,” Athenais said, “But you’re just three colonists, even if one of you’s a shifter.  You’re out of your league.  There’s nothing I’d like more than to blow up that whole damn planet, but Marceau has a hundred people a month try that, and they all end up living out the rest of their Potion on pikes in his front lawn.  Go home and have babies, or whatever it is you colonists do.  I’ll try to forget I saw you three.”  She got up to leave.

“Please,” Paul said suddenly.  His cockiness had vanished and there was real anguish in his face.  “Please.  We need your help.”

Athenais snorted and turned toward the door.

Paul grabbed her wrist.  Behind his glass, Giggles stiffened.

“Please,” Paul repeated, getting up with her, “We spent years tracking you across the Quadrant.  We lost two friends trying to find you.  You have to help us.”

“I don’t
have
to help you do anything,” Athenais said, yanking her arm free.  “And if you’d really done your research, you’d know that I’ve already tried what you’re suggesting.  Several times.  As you can see, I failed.”  She brushed past him toward the door.

“We’ve got a cure for the Potion,” Paul called at her back.

Athenais froze. 
A cure… 
Hand on the latch, she stared at the door in silence, ice trailing cold fingers down her spine.  When the shifter didn’t retract his statement, she took an uneven breath. 

“Come to
Beetle
tomorrow and we’ll talk,” she said, without turning.  “Have some sort of payment in mind.”

Shifters

That night, on
Beetle
, the metal walls rang with a clamor of voices.

“So lemme get this straight, Capt’in.” 

The man’s name was Dunebuggy, or Dune for short.  His face was always smeared with grease and he perpetually stank of engine solvents.  He was a legend among the racing community, his creations having won several desert planet megaraces.  Lucky for Athenais, he took the same care with
Beetle
.  Unfortunately for Athenais, now he was peering at her like a slack-jawed Utopi trying to figure out combustion engines.  “There ain’t no
money
involved?”  Several disgruntled voices joined him in protest.

“I can’t promise any more than what I’ll give you,” Athenais replied.  “Flat rate of sixty credits a day, half that for days in stasis.” 

Another general rumble of discontent reverberated through the mess hall at her words.

“No offense Capt’in,” Goat replied, “But I hired on with ya’ll ‘cause I’s tired of workin salary.  I like me cut.” 

Goat was called ‘Goat’ because no matter how often he bathed, his aroma was always enough to singe the nostrils.  He sat off to one side, giving his shipmates a wide berth. 

Even with the smell, however, Athenais counted herself lucky to have him.  In her seven thousand years in space, she had never seen a cartographer his rival.  He could navigate his way to safe harbor with the positioning system down and only a porthole view of the surrounding stars to guide him.  

Athenais knew.  She’d made him do it.

“If sixty isn’t enough, I can see what the colonists’ll be willing to give you in trade.”  She hadn’t mentioned the shifter yet.  There wasn’t a man in her crew who wouldn’t jump on the chance to rake in three million credits.

“Trade?”  Dune muttered.  “What they got but lumber and cows?”

“You might be surprised,” Athenais said.  “Where do you think all Utopian gold comes from, anyway?  Penoi’s got more mines than you’ve got fleas.”

Goat snorted, but he looked interested.

“They got gems, too,” Ragnar said.  “Biggest ruby I ever seen came outta Penoi.”  He was standing in the corner, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room.  This was the first thing he had said since the conversation started.  Athenais took that as a sign that he was interested, at least.

“And don’t tell me you boys ain’t never been tempted to sample the colonist wares,” Smallfoot said.  He grinned.  “I hear there’s somethin ta be said ‘bout them fertile gals.  ‘Tis said ya can feel yer seed takin hold.”

The two other women of the ship gave Smallfoot a disgusted look, but Athenais had heard similar remarks before.  She couldn’t say if they were true or not, but she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to gain their cooperation.

“Think,” Athenais offered, “They haven’t seen a Utopi before in their lives.  They prolly think Utopis are gods in the sack, enough practice and all that.”