The Backworlds (19 page)
“I-if you need me.”
“I’m always glad for help,
especially from you. For now there’s just the one customer though.” He jerked
his head toward the Water-breather.
“I can see ‘n hear you,”
Dearheart
said.
Craze winked at Meelo, ignoring the
Water-breather. “My charm has no bounds.”
Meelo climbed up on a stool and
pulled the bowl in against her chest. She crunched down one, then a handful,
making yum noises. Somehow she did so without the coat peeling away from her
mouth in the slightest.
Craze set all but one rootbagger in
a cache in the floor, then retrieved a large knife from under the bar. Hacking
up the vegetable for the roaster, he bounced a wayward curl for Meelo’s notice.
She would often giggle when he let his hair move around in outlandish styles.
He liked when she laughed. She didn’t even snicker.
He paused and glanced up. She
gobbled down ricklits with grave concentration, too much to notice his curls.
He frowned, not liking that, clearing his throat until he caught her notice. “
Dearheart
here claims she has a story worthy of a crock of
somethin
’. My brew or the rotgut?”
The Water-breather licked her lips,
staring at the taps. “It’s worth ten crocks of your finest mead, ‘n then some.”
“Tell you what, if your story is
good enough, Meelo gets the say-so, I’ll give you a crock of my good stuff when
you through.” Craze hoped that would get the Water-breather’s designs off his
back. Whatever they were, he wanted no part of them. “You agree, Meelo?” He
wished he could see her lips. He’d been fantasizing about them these fifteen
months.
Meelo’s weak blue gaze scurried
over the Water-breather. “C-Craze brews a nice mead. Must be some story.”
“It is,” the Water-breather said
sitting up straighter, her sallow eyes piercing into Craze’s. “I was a settler
on
Bofeld
. There’s only five of us left. I never want
to see the other four again. I’d probably kill ‘
em
. I
hate what I am.”
Boomtown Craze
Backworlds Book 3
by M. Pax
To secure his future, Craze must propel his world
into a more prosperous era. Only days away from the grand opening of his new and
improved tavern, he is confronted by a loony Backworlder intent on mucking up
his plans. Gaunt and trembling, she claims her spaceship is possessed. She also
has a connection to the underworld that shakes loose the dark past of one of
Craze’s closest friends. It all threatens to end Craze’s prosperity before it
begins.
Meanwhile off world, Captain Talos works desperately
to outwit the mercenary Jixes and lure them away from his and Craze’s budding
prospects. The mind-control weapon Talos uses against them is wearing thin, and
his next move may be his last.
Will Craze and Talos’s efforts bring about a grand
new age of boom or damn them to forever struggle in the dust?
CHAPTER 1
Craze fingered the stunner he kept
under the bar, itching to blast the screwball standing in front of him. Her
dripping annoyed him, so did her blue hair twisting in knots toward the
heavens.
The Lepper — the portal in space
connecting the worlds — had burst open and belched out her ship only ten
minutes ago. She’d docked and made it to his bar in record time. The rush
reeked of potential bothers, dispelling his good humor brought on by his
prospects verging on a new golden age. He’d not let her spoil it.
The newcomer repeated her demand.
“Buy my spaceship!” Pounding her aqua-tinted fist on the unblemished polymer of
his new counter, she spat from every pore not just her mouth. Her gray eyes
darted in different directions.
Shit. Did anything with reason
travel the Edge anymore? The descendents of the fabled Earth, Backworlders had
been genetically designed to take advantage of the less habitable worlds in the
galaxy. The
suped
-up human genes didn’t seem to
include sanity, however.
Craze wouldn’t allow this halfwit,
or any other, ruin his plans. Five months ago opportunity had come docking.
Sure, the unexpected visit by enemies had brought anguish and pain, but that
had dwindled to immaterial with the potential windfalls that had dropped into
his hands at the same time. With those he had begun to convert the dust heap of
Pardeep Station into a prime destination among the Backworlds. He’d no longer
scrape along in the dirt. His days of need and want would end.
Another chance at a decent future
as good as this would never flit within Craze’s grasp again. At least, it was
very unlikely. No way would he waste it. No way would he let the likes of this
dripping gal or anyone else wrest it from him. No, he aimed to become a player
on the Edge then all the Backworlds, enough of one to make his pa and kin bow
and scrape for crumbs, enough to make them sorry they sent him off and treated
him so poorly.
He’d heard of the aqua gal’s race,
Sprinklers they were called, but he hadn’t met one before. Despite the obvious
issues with her reason, she could be mighty useful on Pardeep — an arid moon orbiting
the pale blue ice giant
Azta
. A Sprinkler could
produce three gallons of water a day. Only a small dent on this dust ball of a
Backworld, but maybe she’d attract more of her kind if she stayed, and Craze
wouldn’t turn away a boon. As many as existed were welcome. However, this world
had enough crackpots.
Big enough to fill a doorframe, his
size hindered most folks from spitting on his day. This gal was different. He
could tell from the nonsense falling from her lips. Hitching his hips and
bracing his burly frame, he readied for trouble. His fingers moved from the
stunner to graze across the handle of the revolver beside it.
“Spent my chips already, toots.” He
shrugged a shoulder at the construction going on around him.
The visits by Pardeep’s enemies five
months ago by the Jixes and the Fo’wo’s,
Foreworlders
— those designed
to survive on more livable planets — had led to the discovery of some
mind-control weapons Craze and his friends had used to survive the ordeal then
take advantage. To rid themselves of the Jixes, who liked to steal whatever
good came Pardeep’s way, Captain Talos had returned to the Jix homeworld with
the pesky Gattar. She was the Jix who enjoyed torturing Craze most. With her
thoughts under Talos’s control, she’d made some beneficial trades on Pardeep’s
behalf with other Backworlds. One led to another and eventually the trades had
afforded Craze a new and improved place, a destination closer to the one he’d
dreamed of since being ostracized by his relatives. He’d bargained with Pauder
— the
planetlord
of Pardeep Station — for an upgrade,
moving his tavern from ground level up to the docks.
The Sprinkler studied the work and
the lady laboring at it in the far corner,
Wolney
.
The newest settler on Pardeep,
Wolney
had served in
the war with Pauder, originating from the same world as he, and, it didn’t seem
possible, but she was more deranged than the old man. Instead of seeing Fo’wo’s
to gun down everywhere, she believed she was a Fo’wo, strutting around, telling
Craze and his friends how inferior they were.
“I can hire on, if you so doing,”
the Sprinkler said, shedding droplets on the recently
epoxied
floor. Despite her constant seeping, her skin and hair remained dry. Not her
clothes, though. Her damp and faded jumper clung to her gaunt form.
She reflected in the high gloss of
the steely blue walls and floor like a stick, and in the sheen Craze could also
see shimmery images of the azure sky and the ships parked nearby. So far there
was just the one she wanted to unload and the Sequi — the
spaceboat
that had landed him here almost four years ago.
He chuckled. “You want to hire on
with me so I can buy your ship?” That had to be the most bizarre business
proposition he’d ever heard.
Eagerly she nodded and stuck out
her hand. She wiped it off on her fraying purplish jumper then held it out
again. “It cost me a
moonful
of chips, and it’s
almost new. I’ll sell it to you for a quarter of what I paid. Is it a deal?”
Craze backed up a step. “Shit no!
Somethin
’ isn’t right here. Why you want to get rid of it
so bad?”
Long skeletal fingers ran through
her tangle of blue tresses, messing her style into a worse nest. Her unsettled
gaze latched onto Craze’s. “It’s possessed.”
He’d heard such claims of haunted
vessels from other visitors, but they were just stories to share over a drink.
Craze didn’t believe such phooey. “Your colony went belly up, huh?”
Folks coming in from failed worlds
took awhile to shed their unhinged states. All the dying and decay wore their
minds to nubs.
He moved his meaty hand away from
the weapons, setting it on the shiny bar top. The new barstools hadn’t made it
in yet, so there wasn’t any place for her trembling ass to sit. Her fingers
shook like dust did on Pardeep every time a ship came in.
“No,” she said, syllables warbling.
“It was stolen, ‘n I wish it never came back.”
Did she intend to tie his brain
into knots? Bracing his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath. He shouldn’t
ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Let’s slow up here ‘n start over. OK?”
“OK.”
He gestured at a beige-coated table
and chairs nearby, the only furniture in the tavern, temporarily dragged up
from his old place. The new stuff would be here within the month. Craze
wouldn’t stake a chip on it, though. Things rarely arrived as promised. It
didn’t matter if mercenaries or merchants did the dealing.
“Have a seat.” His living hair
braided itself into three dark plaits which spilled down the middle of his
back. He started to untie his apron then paused. “You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“You
gotta
pay for it.”
“Oh,
nevermind
.”
He’d been afraid of that, taking
off the red apron and sliding out from behind the bar which snaked like a wave
against the back wall. The gleaming silver shelves behind it were lined with
bottles perfectly ordered and arranged. He took a seat where he could keep an
eye on the two entrances. The one to the docks was a nice set of transparent
doors without any scratches, and the other opposite led to the elevators. It
was
epoxied
to match the walls and floor.
“What’s your name?” Craze asked.
“Dialhi.”
The compressor for the air-powered
tools started, and
Wolney
sprayed epoxy on a section
of bare wall. The equipment hiccupped and drummed, whirred and whistled.
Wolney
, despite her very addled brain, moved the tool at a
steady pace, expertly applying the coating. Besides a problem with sanity, she
had rotten timing, too.
Craze rolled his eyes, shut his ear
holes, and went over to grab a bullhorn from under the bar. It was the only way
to get through the gristle mucking up her head. “Cut that shit out,
Wolney
! I’m
tryin
’ to conduct
some business over here.”
After a rude two fingered cuss,
Wolney
dropped her arm then slapped the compressor. The
unit cut as abruptly as it started.
Seeming way too quiet now, Craze
rubbed at his ears. “You know what they say about
findin
’
good help. Don’t need any more hire-
ons
.”
“Not like her. I’m better. I’ll
make you wish you could clone me.”
Dialhi’s
features
held an expectant air, eyes bulging, brows arching. Her fingers tapped on the
beige polymer tabletop like a loose bolt during launch. “And I can earn you the
price of the ship. Honest I can.”
The elevator doors whooshed open,
depositing Dactyl — a dock facilitator and one of Craze’s former shipmates.
Made to withstand greater gravity on a world that no longer existed, Dactyl
stood wide and barely four feet tall. He headed for the doors on the other end
to get to the berths and bays, waving at Craze as he passed through.
Craze returned the gesture then
went on speaking with Dialhi. “Why you so desperate to get rid of the ship?”
She lowered her voice. “It was
stolen by Quasser.”
Only once before had Craze heard
that name, three years ago when Dactyl saved Craze and Rainly from being beaten
to death. It had something to do with Dactyl’s tattoo, and had instilled a
terror deeper than fear into the thugs leaving their fist prints on Craze’s
bones.
Dactyl skidded to a stop and
whirled. He drew his revolver, pointing it straight between the Sprinkler’s
eyes. “
Fricken
get off Pardeep. Now.”
Hetty Locklear Series
The Renaissance of Hetty Locklear.
Graduation from community
college isn’t the magic elixir Hetty Locklear counts on for becoming an adult. Her
parents, who work the Renaissance fair circuit, insist she spend part of the
summer with them. Hetty doubts pretending to live in the Middle Ages will help
her find her way.
To make it worse, an entity
haunts her at her dead-end job, warning her of a dangerous man she doesn’t
know. The ghost leads her to a lover who has a lot of secrets. He pulls her
farther into peril and into a strange, hidden world of genetic experimentation.
New Adult Urban Fantasy with a
contemporary sci-fi twist. Mature content.
CHAPTER 1
At dawn she expected magic. It
didn’t happen. She remained the same as yesterday, disappointingly so, yet
Hetty Locklear clung to hope. It could still happen, perhaps when the dean
called her name.
