Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising (10 page)

Milar grimaced, then did as he
was told.

“You done?  Good.  Now take off
your belt and throw it at me.  Patty’s too.”

The twins’ gazes could’ve set
clay on fire.  Milar, however, took off the belts and threw them at her.  His
red and black dragon tattoos stood out on his neck as he tensed his jaw and
waited.

“Now walk out that way,” Tatiana
said, nodding at the gap in the brush.  “You two are taking me to the ship.”

Milar laughed at her, his eyes
searing.  “If you think we’re flying it for you, darling, you’re about as dumb
as a hammer.”

Tatiana narrowed her eyes. 
“We’ll see.  Walk.  And you raise up a shout and the little dweeb gets it,
understand?”

“Why?” Milar snapped.  “We
weren’t gonna hurt you.”

Tatiana laughed.  “Oh, you forgot
the part about dumping me in the Shrieker mounds, didja,
sweetie?
” 
Tatiana yanked the old man to her chest and scowled over the little egger’s
head.  “That must be convenient.  Now get moving.”

His face turned red, but Milar
said nothing as they awkwardly trudged down the path out of the garden. 
Tatiana stopped to pick up a knife and a radio from Milar’s belt, then
followed.

It was slow going, but at her
command, they led her down a long, winding trail and stopped at a landing-pad
on the edge of a village, where Tatiana recognized the ship they had flown in
on—along with four other ships, all of which looked faster and deadlier than
the twins’.  “All right, stay right there,” she said, maneuvering the crazed
egger around with her.  Milar and Patrick scowled at her as she activated the
biometrically-protected entry to the ship in the same way she had accessed
Patrick’s gun.  Their pantlegs had stopped the bands from biting into their
skin, but Patrick was already bleeding at the wrists from all the jostling of
the three-legged walk.

Well, at least Milar had followed
her instructions.  Tatiana felt a tiny flash of guilt, then crushed it.  She
climbed backwards up the ramp, dragging Joe with her.  “Come on in,” she said
to Milar.

Seeing that, he laughed.  “You’re
actually going to corner yourself on a ship?  You stupid little broad.”

“Oh, what am I
doing?
”
Tatiana gasped, peering at the walls around her in mock fear.  Then, glaring
back at Milar, she said, “Get up here or get shot.”

As they stumbled up the ramp
after her, Tatiana backed Joe inside and then climbed up the staircase to the
second level with him.  Once Milar and Patrick, panting, had eased themselves
up the narrow ramp and were standing on the deck, Tatiana threw Milar a radio
and said, “Okay, boys.  I want you to radio Veera.”

Milar frowned.  “What?”

“Radio her.  Tell her you want to
see her on your ship.  If she doesn’t show up,
alone,
within five
minutes, I’m killing him, then killing both of you.  If she does, I’ll let all
three of you go.”

Grimacing, Milar brought the
radio to his mouth and said, “Veera Leghorn, Pat and I need to talk to you on
Liberty.
” 

Tatiana tensed, waiting for the
return.

After a moment, a chipper elderly
woman said, “Yeah?  Why’s that, Milar?”

“Someone’s cuffed me to my
brother and got a gun to my head,” Milar said.

Tatiana gasped.  Milar grinned at
her.

But Veera said, “Be right there.”

“Alone,” Tatiana snapped. 
“Unarmed.”

Milar chuckled.  “She’ll come
alone, but I doubt she’ll be unarmed.”

Tatiana tapped Joe’s head again
with the pistol.  “Tell her.”

Grimacing, Milar lifted the radio
again and said, “Come alone and unarmed.”  He clicked the radio off and lowered
his arm, glaring.  “
Happy?
”

“You better not screw up the next
one,” Tatiana said. 

Two minutes later, a tall, thin,
white-haired woman appeared in the doorway and, eying the brothers, eased
herself inside.  It took her a moment to see Tatiana on the balcony, holding
the egger.  Her eyes went wide. 

“Veera?” Tatiana said. 

“Yes,” the woman said cautiously.

“Take a seat right there,”
Tatiana said, motioning at a crate.  Then she nodded at Milar, “Now call Dave.”

Suddenly, Patrick’s eyes
widened.  “Oh shit.”

“Shit what?” Milar demanded,
glaring at his brother.

Patrick bit his lip and shook his
head, glaring at the floor.

“So which Dave you want, girlie?”
Milar asked, crossing his arms.  “Since you know this place so well.”

“Bring Dave Arroya,” Patrick
said.

“Bring them both,” Tatiana said.

Patrick cursed again.

“All right,” Milar said, looking
more confused than angry, now.  He radioed the two Daves, this time telling
them Patrick had injured himself and he needed help carrying him off the ship.

Two men, one barely eighteen and
the other over sixty, stepped onto the ship.

“Dave and Dave?” Tatiana asked.

They blinked up at her in
confusion and gave a collective, “Yeah?”

“Go sit down next to Veera,”
Tatiana said.

Their eyes locked on her pistol,
then they saw the egger, then they quickly did as they were told.

“And last but not least,” Tatiana
said, “Milar, call Jeanne for me.”

Milar’s frown deepened, “What
the—”  Then his face went slack suddenly.  “Hell no.”

“Hell yes,” she said, smiling. 
“Get her.”

Milar’s eyes were spitting fire
when he called up the third pilot that Patrick had named.

The voluptuous woman entered
whistling, a bag of potatoes slung over one shoulder, a braid of curly black
hair hanging down to her waist, a gruesome string of what looked like human
molars wrapped around her neck.  Upon seeing the twins, she froze.  Upon seeing
Tatiana, she dropped her potatoes.

“Jeanne?” Tatiana asked.

“No,” the woman said, her green
eyes locked with Milar’s, “My name ain’t Jeanne.”

“Too bad,” Tatiana said.  “Go sit
with the others.  Milar, close the hatch.”

Milar frowned at her.  “
Close
the hatch?  You mean you’re not gonna kill us?”

“Nope,” Tatiana said cheerfully.

Still frowning, looking a little
bit mystified, Milar hit the button to seal the ship.

“Now,” Tatiana said, pulling out
the knife she had kept in her free hand.  Every soul in the room went still,
their eyes fixed on the blade.

Wow, this little dude really
must be worth something to them,
Tatiana thought, glancing at the drooling
egger.  She considered turning the seven of them in to the closest government
outpost, but then decided she didn’t want to have to try and explain just what
the egger
did.

“Here, Milar,” Tatiana said,
tossing the knife down at his feet. 

Milar frowned down at the knife,
then gave her a quizzical look.  “The hell?”

“Undress,” she said sweetly. 
“You can start with those ridiculous sunglasses, then go from there.  The
knife’s for your pants.”

Milar’s face turned purple, and
Patrick hid a smirk by looking the other direction.  Milar made no motion to
comply.  His scowl was still hidden by the beetle-green shades covering his
eyes.

“Now,” Tatiana said.  She glanced
over the egger’s shoulder and noticed he was still happily destroying his
vegetable.

Seeing her gaze, Milar ripped his
shades from his face and dropped them to the floor.  His eyes flashing like
yellow laser beams, he began to strip.  After shucking his big black
trenchcoat, he tore off his shirt and threw it aside, then unbuttoned his jeans
and pushed them down to his ankles.

“Underwear, too,” Tatiana said,
but she was busy staring at the two massive dragons that wound up Milar’s arms
and across his chest.  The black one and the red one were not dueling, as she
had first thought, but rather sleeping, their heads resting on each other’s
chests.  They were beautiful, the art exquisite, the design breathtaking. 

Obviously property of an ego the
size of Fortune.

Milar reddened, looking oddly
vulnerable without his stupid glasses.  Stiffly, he bent for the knife and
started cutting away the jeans at the pantleg that bound up with his brother’s.

God he’s gorgeous,
Tatiana
thought, wondering if Patrick had a body as beautiful as his brother’s. 
Probably, considering the way the cloth stretched against his big shoulders
from the way his arms were tucked behind his back.  Briefly, she imagined
telling Milar to strip his brother, too, but then decided that would be a
little much, even for curiosity’s sake. 

Besides, Milar had pissed her
off.   “I’m serious,” Tatiana said, once he’d thrown the ruined garment aside. 
“All of it,
sweetie.
  I said ‘naked,’ not ‘in your undergarments.’”

Milar snarled and yanked his
underwear off, sliced it off his ankle, then stood.  Lifting his arms
defiantly, he said, “Anything else, Coalition squid?”

Tatiana grinned at the way the
dragons flexed in his chest.  “Nope.  That’s about it.”  She tapped the egger
on the shoulder.  “Come on, my crazy friend.  You’ll keep me company in the
cockpit.”  Turning, she started for the control room.

Patrick jerked his head up,
looking panicked.  “I was serious when I said he’s not safe to fly,” he shouted
from behind her.

Tatiana grinned back at him,
allowing her eyes to stop on Milar’s naked torso before continuing on to his
brother, enjoying the way Milar purpled with her passing.  “That’s all right,
Patty.”  She smiled at Patrick and tapped her skull.  “I can.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes.  “You
said you weren’t a pilot.”

“Never said that,” Tatiana said. 

“Yes you did,” he said
stubbornly.  At Milar’s glare, he muttered, “She did.”

Tatiana laughed.  “I went through
operator
school.  How could I not know how to fly a piece of junk like
this?”  She slapped the metal wall behind her with a resounding clang.  Then,
turning to the others, she said, “Sorry about inconveniencing y’all, but these
two bastards really ruined my day.  Kidnapped me and all that.  I didn’t know
which of you would come after us, so I had to bring all of you.”

Then she opened the hatch to the
upper deck and dragged the egger backwards with her.

“Shoelaces!” Joe cackled into the
hold before Tatiana locked it behind them.

“Sit there,” Tatiana said,
shoving the frail little egger into the copilot seat.  Then she switched on the
closed-circuit camera and flipped on the intercom.  “And everyone stay on the
lower deck.  Anyone tries to dress Miles, there, or tries to climb the steps,
and I’ll go deep-atmo and vent you all into space.  That means you, Jeanne.”

The woman who had been climbing
the staircase backed down the last three steps and stood there, a dark look
coming over her face.  Then she went to confer with Milar and Patrick.  Tatiana
saw their lips move, but couldn’t hear more than whispers.  Milar began
gesturing at Patrick angrily, and Patrick turned red as a beet.

“All right, Eggy,” Tatiana said,
setting the pistol on the console and popping her knuckles.  She glanced over
at the egger.  “You don’t mind if I call you Eggy, do you?”

He continued to drool as he
carved on his squash.

“Didn’t think so.”  Tatiana fired
up the engines, and, with a quick glance to make sure all six of her captives
were accounted for in the hold, lifted them off the ground.

“How far out you think I should
leave them?” she asked her companion, as the ship started picking up speed.

The egger glanced up and said,
“Three days.”  His wide eyes had a spooky feel that made her shudder.

“I think three days is a little
much,” she said.  “How about a half-day’s walk?  That good enough for you? 
Patrick’s bleeding pretty bad.”

The egger had gone back to his
squash.

“Yeah, sure it is.”  She skimmed
over the treeline for another two minutes, guesstimating a half-day’s walking
distance from Deaddrunk, before she set them down in a small mountain meadow. 
Flipping on the intercom once more, she said, “Everybody out, except the kid.”

She waited as Milar opened the
ship’s hatch and stumbled outside, his brother in tow.  The others followed,
until, as requested, only the eighteen-year-old stayed behind.

“Stay at the bottom of the
stairs,” Tatiana said.  Then she opened the hatch and pushed the egger
through.  “Okay,” she said, backing up just enough to be safe.  “Come get him.”

The kid took the stairs slowly,
eying the weapon.  Then, gently, he eased the egger down the steps with him,
his eyes fixed on her.  There was no doubting the malevolence in his stare.

“And take some nanostrips for
Patrick,” Tatiana ordered, as the kid passed the cargo nets.  Still glaring at
her, he withdrew the bundle of neon-green strips, then ushered the egger down
the ramp.

“Close it!” she shouted, once he
was outside.

Sure enough, the hatch shut.

Tatiana backed quickly into the
cockpit and locked herself inside.  Then, before the people on the ground could
have a chance to conspire, she took to the air, putting a good thousand meters
between them.  She hit the forward throttle, then paused to find her discharged
passengers on the viewfinder.  She counted heads.

Seven.
  Tatiana grinned. 
Home free.

She returned her hands to the navigation controls—

—and brushed bits of vegetable matter that the crazed egger had left
there.

Immediately, the console began to twist and shift, the little buttons and
lights wriggling out of focus, becoming another ship, in another place. 
Suddenly she was in a fighter, spinning toward a ruined city, fire gouting from
the walls around her.  Tatiana cried out and hit the throttle, trying to pull
away, but none of her controls were working.  The ship was stuck in a dead
spin, centrifuging her body to the back of her chair.  It was all she could do
to throw out her flaps in an attempt to slow her descent.