Exiled to the Stars (39 page)

"About five years later, Doug Ryles visited me. He had apparently stumbled upon my old still, and worse yet, some sort of old diary or journal I must have written at the time; I don't remember it, but I can think of no other way he could have found out about the rape.

"Of course, I begged him to keep my secret. He has done so for the past fifteen years. But the price of his silence has been a series of votes on this Council that it shames me to remember. Now, I know that he is preparing to take over the entire colony, and I can no longer live with his blackmail. Please vote with me to rid our colony of this criminal vermin." Park resumed his seat without a further word, head bowed, and eyes on the table in front of him.

Doug cursed silently. He'd never even
dreamed
the old fool would actually talk. It was obvious from the dark expressions around the table that he was in really deep trouble. He'd miscalculated. He'd been depending upon those EarthGov legal protections and the letter of EarthGov law – he'd counted on getting off on 'technicalities'. But he was realizing that in a frontier colony of only 1200 people,
everything
soon became common knowledge. These people weren't interested in technicalities. They would accept hearsay or circumstantial evidence without qualms, if they felt it would lead to the truth.

And the truth was that they had him.

True to Cesar's word, they didn't try to assess a criminal penalty; he and his men wouldn't be killed or exiled, which would amount to the same thing. But Vlad received everything he asked. A number of the Council members had shown an unseemly satisfaction in voting to remove him as Gambling Control Director, and then to remove him from the Council itself, and finally to assign him and his men to field work on the Farm.

And he was branded, now. A community of 1200 allows few secrets. In less than a day, every colonist would know that Doug Ryles was a thief, blackmailer, and murderer. That he had been kicked off the Council. There would be no more deals, no more 'arrangements', no more quid-pro-quos. No, he told himself sardonically, no criminal penalties. Just life at hard labor with no chance of parole.

Chapter 15

Seventhmonth 30, Year 23 A.L.

Doug was patient. He suffered through the heavy work under the watchful eye of a militiaman for three weeks before he called Vic, Charley and Frankie together after dinner. None of them were very happy, either. The hard work in the hot sun was a far cry from lounging around casually and lording it over the others. People that used to seek them out now refused to even talk to them. Somehow, it wasn't as easy to bully people now; and every time they tried, others would gather and put a stop to it.

"So, whadda we do now, Messer Ryles?" Vic asked.

Doug's simmering anger grew. There wasn't a damned thing they could do. The whole colony knew of their disgrace. They were objects of disgust wherever they went. All of Doug's big plans were ruined. He had nothing to look forward to but a life of misery and hard labor, and that damned symbiont would make that life longer. It was all Montero's fault!

No! They wouldn't get away with ruining his life. He wouldn't
let
them! His anger flared into rage. He forced himself to calmness.

"They beat us up pretty good, Vic," he said. "They're startin' to treat
us
like we don't matter anymore. Well, we matter, and we're gonna show them. We'll show them all!

"I want you guys to rough up old Montero. Oh, don't hurt him, just rough him up some. Tell him we want light duty, and warn him he'd better back off; quit pickin' on us, unless he wants more of the same."

Frankie stood up, shaking his head. "No. Sorry, Messer Ryles," he said, "but I'm in enough trouble. I ain't gonna tangle with Messer Montero." He walked away, shaking his head.

Doug waved a dismissal. "He'll regret that," he said. "But we don't need him anyway. Montero is an old man. Don't hurt him; nothing that shows. Just rough him up, maybe threaten some of his family, you know, the usual. Just let him know it's not smart to mess with us."

Charley was frowning, but Vic was nodding and grinning, as usual. "Sure, boss," he replied. "We'll just talk to him like we would if he owed you money."

Charley and Vic waited until darkness fell before making their way to Cesar Montero's small plascrete dome. Using their standard procedure, they didn't bother to knock, they merely kicked the door open. A woman screamed softly, more in startlement than fear.

Cesar wasn't alone. Vlad was there, along with two women and three children, who ran to the women. "We wanna talk to you, Messer Montero," Vic snarled in his most menacing voice. "We don't like the way you been treatin' Messer Ryles and us…" While he was speaking, he grabbed Cesar, surprised by his thin lightness. He put an arm around the old man's neck to hold him as Charley started for Vlad.

But Vlad wasn't waiting. He suddenly pulled a hand laser from his tunic. The bright bar of light was shocking in the dimness, but not as shocking as seeing Charley slump to the floor.

Vic's arm tightened involuntarily. There was a wet 'crack', and suddenly Cesar was a dead weight, his head fallen to an unnatural angle.

Vic shouted wordlessly and dropped the lifeless body, and then whirled and stumbled from the room, another bright bar of light and a blast of pain from his shoulder hurrying him on his way.

Vic was stunned. It had all been so
fast
! Only seconds, and now Charley was dead, and he'd killed Messer Montero, the most important man in the colony! He ran for Doug Ryles's tiny dome.

Doug frowned as Vic stumbled through the door, puffing with his exertions, but his eyes widened as the big man told him of Charley's and Montero's deaths. A simple bully job and those two fools couldn't carry it out!

But there was no time for recriminations. "Get out," he told Vic coldly. "I don't want you caught here."

There was naked fear on Vic's face now. "Get out? But where'll I go? There's only the colony!"

Doug pushed on the man's wounded shoulder. "
Get out
! Run away! I don't care where you go. But get away from
me
! Get
out
!"

Vic stumbled from the dome, stunned, confused, and frightened. Doug closely followed him, hurrying in the opposite direction, toward the colony's center.

Doug was cursing and struggling to come up with a believable story to conceal his involvement. A crowd was already gathering at Montero's dome. He was just in time. Any longer, and they’d start adding things up, and coming up with Doug Ryles! As he got closer, Doug began puffing as though from exertion and excitement.

"Vic killed Montero!" he shouted as he approached. "He told me! If we hurry, we can catch him!" The crowd parted to reveal Montero's pet black, Renko, standing near the entrance, a laser in his hand. The dark face could have been carved from stone.

Doug looked around nervously. The crowd was deathly silent. The only sound was the sputtering of the torches a few of them carried. What was wrong? Why weren't they shouting and chasing after Vic? Why were they just standing there?

A short man with bulging muscles stepped from the crowd. Carlos Tablana, Vic's father. Like the others, his face was stony. "My son is not smart," the man said, "but he had a good heart. You turned him into a bully. And now you've turned him into a murderer. And I'm not going to let you get away with it."

Doug took a breath to tell the man that wasn't true, that Vic had always been a stupid, muscle-bound bully, when Tablana slammed an amazingly hard fist into Doug's belly. As Doug folded around it, a "crack" reverberated through his skull and searing pain flared in his jaw. Doug fell to the ground, and saw that the crowd had closed on him. A foot swung into his chest, and Doug could feel ribs break. Then there was just a flood of kicking, stomping, screaming agony until merciful darkness finally descended.

Vic crouched in the darkness. Where could he go? The only people on Crashlanding were in the colony! So, he followed Doug. He'd stared, openmouthed in shock as Doug sold him out without even being asked a question. A sense of doom settled over Vic.

But he watched as his father stepped forward and said something to Doug, and then, suddenly, hit him, left and right. This was perhaps as amazing as Doug's betrayal; his father had never touched Vic, and had always been bitching about Vic's bullying and fighting.

Then the crowd closed. There was a jostling and scuffling for a few moments, before the crowd turned from the ragged pile barely recognizable as human remains and Vic's terror really began.

"Go home," Vlad's voice was unnaturally loud in the stony silence. "There's nothing you can do here. Vic has nowhere to go; we'll get him in the morning. We'll take care of Cesar, but I'd appreciate it if someone would take out the garbage, here." He waved negligently at the bloody, broken body of Doug Ryles. There were a number of grimaces, but Vlad was certain volunteers would be found.

Panic rose in Vic. Renko was right. As soon as morning came, they would come for him. And they would
kill
him! He started running, heedless of the direction, stumbling in the darkness. He stopped for only a moment before slipping out the gate of the Castle.

There was no one left who could tell him what to do. Charley was dead. Messer Ryles was dead. Even Messer Montero was dead. He couldn't ask Frankie; they'd never gotten along. Messer Ryles had often had to intervene to stop arguments or fights between them.

He tripped, fell, and then levered himself back to his feet and continued his shambling, stumbling run.

Vic hadn't listened much to the colony classes about the native life on Crashlanding. He didn't work in the fields, and he didn't leave the Castle, so why bother?

So, even if he'd seen the thorn tree's trigger vine, he wouldn't have known to avoid it. He actually stumbled on it, and straightened just in time to be struck by three of the meter-long thorns. He screamed then, and went on screaming in agony; but it took nearly half an hour for him to bleed to death.

******

Vlad Renko stared glumly at the tablet, trying yet again to keep his mind on the colony report he was trying to read. It was his third attempt, but still, the sense of the words eluded him, swamped by the grief.

Over three weeks, now, almost a month, and still he grieved for Cesar Montero. And for the colony. Such a stupid waste! And all because of a cheap grifter named Doug Ryles. Oh, Vic Tablana had actually killed Cesar, but it had been Ryles who'd sent Vic and Charley Worthless. All of them were dead, now. Cesar, Ryles, Vic and he'd killed Charley himself.

Really, he grieved for the colony. He'd tried to take Cesar's place, to guide the Council, but he wasn't Cesar. He didn't have the touch, the charisma that made people
want
to do what Cesar wanted done. He'd been convinced it was Cesar's obvious intelligence and concern for the colony's welfare that had made him the undisputed, if unnamed, leader of the colony.

But he'd been wrong. He was as intelligent as Cesar, and as concerned with the welfare of the colony. But there was something missing, some vital ingredient that made people willingly follow where Cesar led. And he obviously didn't have it. The Council had fractured like a cheap vase. Despite his best efforts, the Council, and therefore the colony, lacked direction. It was just drifting from crisis to crisis in a sea of fruitless argument. Worse, there was a power struggle going on in the Council, with four Councilors jockeying for the Chairmanship and the remains of Cesar's power. And the disorder was beginning to spread to the colony itself.

It was almost like the aftermath of the plague. Then, it had taken a major effort by a nearly united Council to defeat the apathy and depression that the plague had inspired. He shook his head. That unanimity was missing now, and colony morale was plummeting.
And he couldn't STOP it
! He slammed a fist on the side table beside his chair.

He heard the knock on the door, and heard Susan go to greet their visitor. She came into the living room, accompanied by a familiar figure. Vlad smiled wryly.
All
the figures in the colony were familiar, by now. He was surprised to see this one, though. Kenneth Terhoe had been a Council member for over twenty years, since the plague. Surprisingly, though, Vlad didn't know him well. For his entire term on the Council, Terhoe had been a surly loner.

Vlad knew that Terhoe had been a disgraced politician of some sort in NorAm, and that he had lost his entire family, wife and two children, in the crash and the plague. Evidently, Terhoe blamed himself, and refused to let go of his grief. He seemed to treasure his misery, to hug it to his chest. Vlad had never understood how the man got elected to the Council in the first place, but he had proven to be an excellent Councilor, though his surly, abrasive manner kept him an outsider. Still, his votes, proposals, and motions had shown a man obviously dedicated to the welfare of the colony. He'd been one of Cesar's most reliable supporters on the Council, though he had rejected any friendly overtures from Cesar or Vlad, as he had those of the other Councilors.

Tonight, though, something was different in Terhoe's manner.
Very
different. His stride was confident, his head held high. His expression was serious, but the usual surliness was missing. Vlad wondered what had happened to the man. Now, over 180 cems tall and ramrod straight, Vlad could see the impressive politician Terhoe had been. His mane of white hair was carefully coiffed. His shipsuit was even pressed.

"Doctor Renko, may I have a few moments of your time?" the man asked in a tone whose warmth was almost a shock.

Vlad smiled, intrigued by the change. "Of course, Messer Terhoe. How can I be of service?" He ushered the man to a seat.

Terhoe frowned in concentration, as though undecided how to proceed. Finally, he sighed. "We've known each other a long time, Doctor Renko," he began. "Yet, I fear that though I feel I know you well, you know little of me. That is my fault, and it is a fault I came here to remedy. I know that you were a good friend and supporter of Cesar Montero, and are firmly devoted to the welfare of the colony. That is another reason I am here."