Outer Bounds: Fortune's Rising (15 page)

Then he said nothing more.  The
knife was mesmerizing as it dangled between his fingers.  Beautiful, yet
deadly.  Seconds passed.  Then minutes.  He said nothing, just watched her, a
thoughtful smile on his face.

“What are you waiting for?” she
finally whispered.

“My brother,” Milar said.  He
kept toying with the knife.  Watching her. 

Tatiana found the silence
unbearable.  “How long will it take him to get here?”

“Don’t know.”  Milar flipped the
knife to his other hand.  He kept twisting it, then glanced at the blade as if
in thought.  Finally, he said, “What made you crash?”

Tatiana froze.  “Nothing.  Why?”

He actually stopped fiddling with
his knife to laugh.  Gesturing with the blade, he pointed out the back hatch,
at the kilometer-long furrow she’d left in the reddish earth.  “Because that is
an awfully strange way to make a landing.  Even for a coaler.”

Tatiana reddened.  “Your ship
malfunctioned, collie.”

“Bull,” Milar said, his eyes
locking with hers.  “If I went in there right now, I could fly this thing back
to town no sweat.”  He leaned forward and tapped the front of her jumpsuit with
the flat of the blade.  “So what was it that made you go down, sweetie?  You
some sort of epileptic?  You have another panic attack?”

“It wasn’t a panic attack,” she
snapped.  Tatiana lifted her chin, keeping her eyes on the knife.  “Get that
away from me.”

Milar snorted, but leaned back
against the wall.  “Well?” he asked, after a few more minutes had passed in silence. 
“What was it, then?”

When Tatiana said nothing, he set
his knife away behind him and leaned closer, clasping his hands over a knee. 
“Because I have a theory.  If you want to hear it.”

“Not especially,” Tatiana said. 
“Why are we waiting for your brother?  Because you’re too much of a coward to
kill me alone?”

Milar threw back his head and
laughed.  “If you had any idea how close—”  He stopped and shook his head. 
“No.  Pat’s too much of a softie to pull a trigger, much less cut a pretty
young throat like yours.  He left that to me.”

The simple way he said gave
Tatiana goosebumps.  She started inching away again, but at his warning look,
she desisted.

“So,” Milar said, peering over
his knee at her once more, “Want to hear my theory?”

“No,” she muttered.

He reached forward and tapped her
skull with a big finger.  “You’re like Patrick.  You see things.”

She flinched away from him.  “I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grinned.  “Yeah you do.”

“See things?  What kind of
things?  Everyone sees things.”

“‘Cause I noticed something,”
Milar continued, “Just now, when I went to check the com system.”  He paused,
his golden hazel eyes scanning her face.

Piss brown,
Tatiana
corrected herself.  ‘Golden’ and ‘hazel’ were too noble of terms for eyes like that.

“Seems our good Wideman left a
present for you on the console.  Some of it’s still there, stuck to the blood
you’re gonna clean up later.”  Milar leaned forward, until his big body was
much too close.  “I was watching your face in Wideman Joe’s garden, sweetie.  I
know you saw something.”

“Sounds like you know a lot of
stuff,” Tatiana said.  “But what about where I put your brother’s pistol?”

Milar froze, then glanced back
into the cockpit.

Tatiana smiled sweetly at him
when he jerked his head back to glare at her.

Milar’s eyes fell to the cargo
pockets of her jumpsuit, all flat and empty, then he grabbed her hands and held
them up as he reached behind and felt along her back.  Tatiana endured it,
though her smile was now all teeth.

Then, scowling at her, Milar
snatched up his knife and went looking for it.

The moment he spotted it behind
the console and squatted to retrieve it, Tatiana scooted backwards and leapt to
her feet.  She hit the CLOSE button on the cockpit hatch and lunged down the
staircase at full speed.  She was already rushing across the floor of the hold
before she heard Milar curse and charge out of the cockpit after her.

Keep going,
Tatiana’s
frantic mind chanted. 
You’ve got the lead.  Keep going, keep going…

She stumbled down the ramp and
through the damp dirt still warm from landing.  Holding her wounded shoulder in
place with one hand, she hurdled fallen alien trees and clambered up the side
of the furrow, her bare feet digging into the soft edges.

Then she was in the alien forest,
running for her life.

To her horror, she heard heavy
footsteps behind her.  Gaining quickly.

You’re half his size,
she
thought, miserable,
and you thought you could
outrun
him?  With a
concussion?

“Come here,” Milar growled behind
her.  Suddenly her jumpsuit went taut against her chest and she was dragged
backwards, into Milar’s waiting arms.  Into her ear, Milar said, “Clever little
thing, ain’t ya?  Too bad you run like a pregnant starlope.”

He twisted her around so she was
facing him.  Scanning her face, he said, “That why you aren’t a Nephyr, coaler
squid?  Because you’re stunted?”

She snorted.  Looked away.

“Well, let me tell
you
something,” Milar said.  “I
was
drafted for the Nephyrs.  My brother and
his girlfriend’s little sister got me out.”  He grinned again and swept his
hand back against her bare skull, stopping his thumb on the metal node above
her left temple.  Feeling it, Tatiana tried not to squirm, but mental alarms
were going off in her head.  Of all her nodes, that was the most sensitive, and
the most dangerous to injure.  Usually when not in her soldier, she wore a
special hat, because a tap too hard could cause convulsions or even death.

He can’t know,
Tatiana
thought. 
Just calm down.

“But I was there for three months
before Pat found me,” Milar continued softly, keeping his hand in place over
the temple nexus.  “Learned quite a bit.”  He tapped the node gently with his
thumb.  “Like how much I hate coalers, and how easy it is to kill them.” 

Tatiana
refused
to
tremble.  Glaring up into his eyes, she said, “You’re lying.”

He tapped the node again before
releasing her.  His hazel eyes were dark as he watched her.  “Let me show you
something, sweetie.”  He stepped back and tugged off his shirt, exposing the
sleeping dragons that twined across his chest and shoulders for a second time
that day.  “Look closely this time, runt.” 

Tatiana stepped backwards,
licking her lips, considering her chances if she made another run for it. 

Then she saw the scars.

A single line ran from his groin
to his sternum and spread out across his shoulders, with smaller scars running
in surgical precision down his arms and along his ribs.  Medical scars.  All
over his body.  Tatiana forgot to breathe.

The dragon tattoo that covered
much of his arms, snaking up his shoulders and neck, suddenly had a new
purpose.  The legs and bodies of the sleeping dragons had been strategically
placed, every centimeter of them perfectly positioned to hide the fact that
someone had spent a lot of time cutting him apart.

“Pat got to me the day after they
took off my skin and put it in cold storage,” Milar said, when she could only
stare.  “They were gonna put that fancy Nephyr stuff on the next morning. 
Despite what I wanted.”

Tatiana blinked and took another
step backwards. 
There’s no way.  Nobody escapes the Nephyr academy. 
Nobody—

“And,” Milar said, taking a step
toward her, “Patrick thinks I didn’t hear you, when you bragged about watching
the Nephyrs skinning those colonists alive.  It took me half an hour of cooling
off just to keep myself from coming in there and throttling the life out of
your stupid body.  I was
there
, sweetie.  Screamin’ just like all those
nice videos you like to watch so much.  I was a real hard case, so they didn’t
bother with putting me under.  Supposed to teach me some sort of lesson.”  He
smiled cruelly.  “And it did, in a way.”

“I didn’t—” Tatiana began.

“So just watch yourself,” Milar
said, tugging his shirt back on.  “I’m just itching to give you a taste of what
it feels like.”

Tatiana put some more distance
between them.  “I never saw those vids.”

“Right.”  Milar grabbed her bad
arm and gave it a warning tug.  “Let’s go.”

“I didn’t,” Tatiana said, close
to tears, now.  “I was just trying to scare him.”

“Uh-huh.  Just like you made that
call earlier today, eh?  Just like you didn’t see anything in the pumpkin
patch?  Just like you crashed because my ship malfunctioned?”

Tatiana caught Milar’s arm with
her good hand, her fingers unable to even circle his wrist.  “Listen to me,”
she said, digging her bare heels into the ground and tugging them to a halt. 
“I never watched those videos.  Never.  Made me sick just thinking of it.  I
was just scared when I said that to Patrick.  Scared and angry.”

Milar rolled his eyes and started
moving again.

“But,” Tatiana said, gritting her
teeth together as she held her ground, “I did see something in the pumpkin
patch.  And again in the cockpit, after I touched those damn shavings.”

Milar halted, still staring
straight ahead.  “And?” he asked softly, not looking at her.

Tatiana licked her lips.  “The
first one was of me.  I had this weird node between my eyes.  Never seen
anything like it before.  Not Coalition, that’s for sure.  I thought you
bastards had given me some sort of drug.  Maybe genetically engineered the squash
to have some sort of hallucinogenic properties.  Something.”

Milar turned and glanced down at
her.  “And the cockpit?”

“Uh…”  Tatiana reddened,
embarrassed.  “I, uh, was…”

Milar waited.

“Flying against soldiers,” she
squeaked.  “Coalition.  They shot me down.  I was gonna hit a government
facility head-on.  Had been leading some sort of air-strike against it, I
think.”

For a long time, Milar only
watched her, his golden-brown eyes scanning her face.  Then, softly, he said,
“You never watched those videos?”

“Never,” she whispered.  “I can’t
even stand watching another operator get hooked up to their soldiers…how could
I stand something like that?”

Milar grunted and looked away.

“What did I see?” Tatiana
whispered.

“You really want me to answer
that, coaler squid?”  Milar looked back at her, amusement on his face.

“Yes,” she gritted. 
Please
let it be a drug.  Some new and weird and expensive drug.

Milar grinned and tapped her brow
right between the eyes.  “You’re seeing the future.”

“No,” Tatiana bit out.  “Never.”

Milar laughed and tugged her into
motion again.  As he walked, he said, “Just face it, sweetie.  You’re not gonna
be a coaler squid forever.”

Chapter
14

Runaway
Joel

Joel settled into the big
break-room armchair and closed his eyes.  He’d been so exhausted lately that he
could barely keep conscious on the cleaning routes.  The two hours of laundry
chores that the Director had tacked onto his daily routine for contraband ate
into his already-skimpy sleep schedule—

Joel jerked awake when someone nudged
his boot.

“Huh?” he asked, blinking up at
the blurry image.

“Shift’s over.  I had one of your
eggers cover for you.”

Joel blinked and sat up.  His
whole body ached with bruises and exhaustion, and his ribs ground into his
lungs with every breath.  He’d been
asleep?
  He didn’t remember falling
asleep.  Groaning, he pressed a palm to his head.  “Magali?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Joel started to stand, but the
woman put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the chair.  When he
glanced up at her in question, her face was serious.

“Are you Runaway Joel?”

He laughed and shrugged off her
grip.  “Don’t know where you’d get a stupid idea like that.”  He stood. 
Looking down at her, he said, “Do I look like a smuggler?  Would I be stuck in
a Yolk factory if I was a smuggler?”

“Would you?” she asked, peering
up at him. 

Magali was tall for a woman,
maybe five-ten or five-eleven.  Considering how her chest strained at the seams
of her jumpsuit, she probably weighed more than him, too.  Joel had to force
himself to tear his eyes back to her face.  “What?”  He shook himself.  “Of
course not.  If I was
that
Joel, I’da been outta here the moment they
offloaded me.”

She crossed her arms over her
chest.  With arms that wiry and muscular, no one could accuse her of being fat,
but with breasts that huge…  “So why are you still hanging around?” 

Joel flinched.  He didn’t like
the way the conversation was going, even if it was with a pretty girl.  Without
a word, he started toward the door.

“I could start asking questions,”
she said, at his back.  “Maybe ask the Director if she’s got any of those old
wanted posters hanging around.” 

Joel froze, his hand on the
latch.  “Now why did you have to go say something like that?”  He turned
around, every fiber of his body stiff as he yanked the door shut behind him. 

“I want you to help me get out of
here,” Magali said, unflinching at the slam of the door.  “Tonight.”

Joel crossed the space and locked
the door to the Shrieker mound.  Then, turning around to face her, he said,
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.  He crossed the breakroom to put his body
in front of the outer door, which had no lock.  “But I should.”

“Yeah,” Magali agreed.  “Because
if you don’t help me get out of here tonight, you’re in a lot of trouble.”

For a minute, Joel could only
stare at her.  Then, “Let me get this straight,” Joel said, unable to keep the
disbelief from his voice.  “After nobody’s been able to escape this camp since
they made the damn thing, you want me to get you and your little cretin of a sister
out of here, safely, by the end of the night.”

“My sister can take care of
herself,” Magali said.  “Just me.”

Joel hesitated, sensing something
else was at work here.  “Just you?  You two have a falling out or something?”

Magali gave him an unhappy smile. 
“I think that happened a long time ago.”

“So, what, you’re just going to
leave her?”

“Yep.”  There was no remorse in
her voice.  None.

Joel frowned at her, then leaned
back against the outer door.  “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?  The
last three guys I tried to take out of here chickened out halfway there.  Got
us caught and dragged back.”

Magali’s eyes widened a little
upon hearing that.  “
You’re
the guy who spent a week in the stocks?”

Joel gave a disgusted snort.  “It
was more like two.”  His back ached just thinking about it.

The woman’s eyes widened
further.  “Then, if we get caught this time…”

“The Director would hang me.” 
And
love every second of it,
he thought, remembering the look in her eyes when
he dropped Gayle’s badge on her desk.

“Oh.”  She looked away.  “Why
haven’t you left on your own, then?”

Joel grunted and shifted against
the door.  “Can’t.  The Shrieker mound has about a dozen chambers beyond B
Block, with twice that many slick, slimy walls to scale.  Takes two people to
get up about three of them.  After that, there’s a mating pool and an
underground river and…”  He shrugged.  “I’m not sure what else.  Never made it
past that without my dumbass partner freaking out.” 
Or dying.
  Joel
winced.

“So you don’t know there
is
a way out?  You’re just guessing?”

“Well,” Joel said, “I’d say it’s
a pretty good guess, since the Shriekers in there aren’t the same as the
Shriekers out here.  Different size, different color, tails are thicker.  I’m
thinking it’s a different nest, and they’re accessing the lake somehow, because
they sure as hell aren’t getting fed on our side.  Didn’t see any weeds in that
pond, either, so they’ve gotta be getting out somehow.  Maybe through the
river.”  He shrugged.  “But once you go that deep into the mounds, it’s kind of
hard to think, anyway.  I might’ve just overlooked it.”

“I won’t freak,” Magali said,
looking sincere.  “I’ll do whatever you tell me to.  Whatever it takes.”

Joel snorted and shoved himself
away from the door.  “Right, lady.”  He turned to grab the knob.

“I’ll tell them about you,” she
warned.

“You won’t,” Joel said, glancing
over his shoulder.  “Because the moment you tell the Director, I’m dead and
you’re right back where you started—stuck in the mounds, your mind rotting to
Egger’s Wide.”

He yanked the door open and
stepped through it, leaving her staring after him.

Joel endured the two hours of
laundry duty, then went to find Yvonne and Rachel to play his nightly game of
cards.

The two guards were on duty,
boredly leaning against the leg of one of the four transport ships they were
guarding, smoking.  Their faces livened up when they saw him.  “Joel,” Yvonne
said, flipping her cigarette aside to join the hundreds of others scattered in
the dirt beneath the ship.  “Thought you got caught in a Shriek or something. 
How you holding up?”

“Not too good,” Joel muttered,
dragging a deck of cards out from where it had been wedged in a crack in the
barricade of sandbags and razor wire.  “Director used me as stress relief a
couple days ago.  Haven’t done much of anything since.”  Joel dragged two
crates of ammo from beside the barricade and stacked them atop one another,
then laid a plywood plank across the top. 

Rachel winced and ground her
cigarette out under the toe of her boot.  Pursing her lips, she said, “She
break anything?”

He lifted an arm and grimaced as
he pointed to his ribs.  “Something’s not right in there.  Camp doctors won’t
look at it, though.  Pretty sure the Director threatened ‘em somethin’ horrible
if they patched me up.”  Lowering his arm, he went back to the barricade and
grabbed another case of ammo.  He dragged it over, then dropped it beside the
table with a puff of dust.  As he lowered himself to the crate, he hissed and
grabbed his side.

The two guards looked at each other
as they pulled up overturned fuel canisters and sat down at the tiny makeshift
table across from him.  “You know,” Yvonne said slowly, “We might be able to
pull a few strings, maybe get you seen by one of our medics…”

“I’d appreciate that,” Joel said,
shaking his head, “but if the Director got word of it, you’d be right out there
in the stocks with me.” 

“
Look
,” Rachel said.  She
reached out and touched his arm.  “You’re a citizen.  You deserve medical
attention.”

“No I don’t,” Joel said,
mournfully.  “I’m just an egger, now.”  He held up the deck of cards.  “Who
shuffled last time?  My head got banged around so much I can’t remember.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. 
“You’re going to our medic.”

“Yeah,” Yvonne said.  “Soon as
our shift’s over.”

“Well,” Joel allowed slowly, “It
hurts like hell to breathe, and even
thinking
about laughing…”  He
groaned and winced.  “I guess I can’t argue with a couple of beautiful ladies,
now can I?”  He gave them his most charming grin, though he laced his dimples
with pain.

Rachel was glaring, now.  “No,
you can’t.  We’ll get you to that medic, and damn the Director.  I know just
the guy.”

“Yeah,” Yvonne said quickly. 
“He’s a real chump.  Would do anything for a couple of pretty ladies.”  She and
Rachel giggled.

Joel grinned and handed her the
deck of cards.  “So,” he said, motioning at the two of them.  “What we playing
to in the meantime?  Skin?”

Yvonne grimaced.  “How about
skivvies?  Last time we almost got caught…”

“Aww, ladies, but you know I’m
horrible at cards.”

“Yeah, but every once in awhile
you whip us soundly,” Rachel said.  She pointed a finger at him and grinned. 
“If I didn’t know better, Joel Triton, I’d say you were a swindler.”

“Shuffle,” Joel said, nodding at
the deck.  Then, grinning, he said, “What makes you say I’m not?”

Both Yvonne and Rachel burst into
guffaws.  “Well, considering how you walk outta here bare-assed about two
thirds of the time…”  They looked at each other and giggled.  “Yeah.  You’re a
real swindler there, Joel.”

Joel sighed.  “You two beautiful
ladies should have more confidence in my abilities.”

“Oh, we ain’t sayin’ nothin’
about
those
abilities, Joel,” Rachel laughed, as she started to deal out
five hands.  “Just face it.  You ain’t that good at cards.”

“I am the greatest poker player in
the Outer Bounds,” Joel said regally.

Yvonne peered at him.  “My God. 
He actually said that with a straight face.”  The two women started to giggle
again.

They heard the sound of ammo
crates dragging and two more women sat down on either side of Joel.

“What we playin’ to?” Cara asked.

“Joel wants to do skin,” Rachel
said.

The whole table giggled.  “Of
course he does,” Hannah said.  “Every once in a blue moon, he’ll actually win a
hand.”

“I say we do skivvies,” Yvonne
said.  “Last time we almost got caught…”

“Who’s on guard this time?” Joel
asked.

“Ming,” Cara said. 

“Yeah, she’ll do,” Joel said. 
“Who was it that almost got us all flogged that last time?  Josylin?”

There was a table full of
eye-rolls.  “No, Tracy,” Rachel said.  “She fell asleep on post.”

“Either that or she just let them
past without saying a damn thing because she wanted someone to nail us,” Cara
snarled.  The look of hatred on her face was real.  This far past the Outer
Bounds, cliques commonly formed amongst the soldiers and there was a very real
problem of rivalries escalating into mini-wars, left unchecked.

Since Cara was one of the ranking
clique members of the female side of the camp, Joel felt sorry for Tracy.  She
would probably put in for a transfer soon, if she hadn’t already.

He cleared his throat.  “So which
is it, ladies?  Skivvies or skin?”

Rachel licked her lips, a
predatory grin her eyes.  “I say skin.  I haven’t seen you naked in awhile,
Joel.”

Joel snorted at their hoots. 
“It’s your funeral, Rachel, darlin’.”  He grinned at her.

He was
still
grinning at
her when he was the only one fully clothed, and everyone else at the table was
down to skivvies—except Rachel.  She had a sports bra and underwear…and CAT
tags.

Losing another hand, Rachel
grimaced and reached up for her CAT-tags.

“Jewelry doesn’t count,” Joel
said, unable to keep the dimples from his cheeks.

Rachel smiled at him and tugged
them off her neck.  “It ain’t jewelry.  It’s a curse.”

“You girls don’t play fair,” Joel
complained.  “I finally get a good string o’ luck and y’all start bending the
rules.”

“Uh-huh,” Rachel said, but she
was grinning at him.  “I’ll get ya next time, Joel.  You can bet on that.”

Joel laughed, motioning at her
state of undress.  “That’s interesting, coming from a gal who’s one hand shy of—”

“
What in the Hell is going on
here
?!”

Everyone at the table scrambled
at the sound of the Director’s voice.  Joel, who was the only one fully
dressed, was nonetheless the first one the Director’s six cronies grabbed and
threw to the ground.

“Joel Triton,” the man with his
knee in his spine was saying, “You’re under arrest for smuggling, conspiracy,
theft of government Yolk, and murder of a government officer.”

“
What?
” Joel stammered. 
“I don’t know—”

The Director yanked him up by his
hair.  “Don’t know what, Runaway?”  She gave a mirthless laugh.  “How much Yolk
you’ve been running out of here the last three years?  Or that Gayle died last
night, from the head wounds you gave her?”  The Director snorted and narrowed
her eyes.  “I should’ve put it together a long time ago, considering how many
times you tried to run away.”

She told,
Joel thought,
stunned and furious that Magali had betrayed him. 
The vindictive wench
told.

The Director released him
suddenly.  “Take him back.  I’ll get to him after I deal with these four.”

Then Joel was being shoved back
into the camp at the head of a laser rifle in his spine.  They marched him past
several curious-looking eggers, but one of them stopped to stare at him, her
mouth ajar, as they passed her.

What did you
think
they
were going to do?
Joel thought, glaring at Magali. 
Ask me to work for
them?