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Recreating John Doe ISBN 9781419915161 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Recreating John Doe Copyright © 2008 Anh Leod Edited by Helen Woodall. Photography and cover art by Les Byerley. Electronic book Publication April 2008 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/) This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
HUNTERS FOR HIRE: RECREATING JOHN DOE Anh Leod
Dedication For Helen Woodall
Recreating John Doe
Glossary Aboolan–The natural inhabitants of the Aboo System and its planets who moved on after beings from Earth moved in to mine the planets for their natural resources. Aboo System–Home of the Aboo mining planets. Crystolium-rich planets located two Smith Gates from Earth. Aboo Two–Second planet in the Aboo System where Amalgama, the capital city of the Amalgamation of Planets, is located. Aboolan War of 2112–War that broke out when Earthlings invaded the Aboo System for the planets’ natural resources. Abyss, The–Section of The Web where prisoners are kept until transported to another planet or prison facility. Amalgama–The capital city and chief headquarters for the Amalgamation of Planets. A large, dome-covered city located on the planet Aboo Two. Amalgamation of Planets–The primary governing body of the galaxy. Amaya–Cintealios capital city on the planet of the same name. Aurelie–The Web’s day shift cook. Azo Eta–Planet very similar to Earth, located in the Secundus System. Bounty-hunter class–Class of small ships, specially suited to carry and operate with only a small crew. Preferred mode of transportation of the bounty hunters, hence the name. Bounty Hunters, Inc.–Organization of bounty hunters set up and run by Ulric Vonner. They work for large fees and at their own discretion and are neither good nor bad, though they will break the law when necessary in order to bring in a bounty. Bulkhead Disrupting Charge–Fired from a normal missile cannon, the charge attaches itself to a target’s shields, weakens the shields, opens a hole through the target’s defenses and fires a concentrated charge into the target’s hull. Inflicts major, concentrated damage to a ship’s hull. Cintealios–The warrior race. These beings are human/humanoid and live to conquer those who are weaker. Largest opposing force to the Amalgamation. Comm-tabs–Buttonlike communication devices that are pressed to the skin behind the ear. Constance O’Rourke–Supply handler for The Web. Control–Small space station situated near the Smith Gate. Controls the energy field that operates the gates and determines where a ship will emerge from the wormhole. Copper Arrow–Copper balls that expand into shafts of corresponding light; an arrow that explodes on contact. Devil’s Pit–Seedy neighborhood on Quartus Seven where The Web is located. Location chosen specifically for its rough appearance and dangerous atmosphere.
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Dexter Smith–“Dex”, The Web’s computer geek. If it’s electronic, he can figure it out. “Doc”–Holographic doctor in The Web’s medical wing. He has numerous robotic shells that he can download himself into, to perform various functions. Executioner–Ulric Vonner’s personal bounty-class cruiser. Gold Arrow–Gold balls that expand into shafts of corresponding light and act as a claw, anchoring target to whatever solid surface is behind it, such as a wall. Halcion Cartiere–Top commanding officer of the Interplanetary Military Forces. Hub–The heart of The Web, located at the very center. Also contains the Conference Room where meetings are held. Hunter Pack–Small backpack that holds more than it appears to hold. Icsantheze Dagger–Daggers created on the planet Icsanthia. Sixty-six centimeters total length from tip of the dagger blade to the end of the handle—fifteen centimeter hilt, fifty-one centimeter blade. The blade is curved like a serpent slithering across a surface, golden in color, with pale green streaks through the blade. Handle is wrapped in emerald leather. Interplanetary Military Forces (IMF)–The military power behind the Amalgamation that works diligently to protect the Amalgamation and everything it stands for. Intergalactic Security Agency (ISA)–The job of the ISA is to explore new worlds and collect critical intelligence on any alien species discovered. Interplanetary Senate–Body of five hundred representatives from across the galaxy. Most major systems are represented in the senate—five representatives each—with a few exceptions. Jacobi Smith (deceased)–Discovered worm holes usable for faster travel times. The worm holes became known as Smith Gates in his honor. Jiborui–Home world of Krys Xan, the Amalgamation of Planets’ leader. Exotic planet that is home to humanoid, hermaphrodite beings who are tall and slender, and have very sharp minds. Key in the production of many space travel inventions that have made traveling throughout the galaxy and colonizing new worlds easier. Jump Drives–Allows the vessel to navigate through nearby worm holes, effectively reducing travel times significantly. (Note: Control must open the gate. Also controls to which neighboring system the gate connects.) Krys Xan–Hermaphrodite from Jurgia and leader of the Amalgamation of Planets. He presides over the Senate and all its members. Military Sciences Lab–Based on Earth, its purpose is to create and cultivate the ultimate soldier. Nursotics–Robotic nurses. Orbit Wisps–Spectral, universal snitches. They barter information for energy cubes.
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PHD–Personal Holographic Device. When activated, it alters the hunter’s appearance, aiding in acquiring a bounty. Plasma Cannons–Can target an enemy ship’s deflector shield and will drain the energy from the shield determinant to the size of the charge. If used on a small ship without a shield, it can slowly deteriorate the ship’s hull. Quartus Seven–Planet where The Web is located. Also known as The City Planet. seventy-five percent of the planet’s surface is covered by one continuous metropolitan area. The remaining twenty-five percent of the planet is covered in water. No indigenous life forms or plant life exist here. Replicators–Basic replication of items such as food and clothing. Complex machinery cannot be replicated, though the replicator can retrieve items from storage compartments. Sa-Ro Five–Largest agricultural hub in the Secundus System. This planet supplies food rations to many planets, including some from neighboring systems. Scanners–Allow the ship’s crew to scan other ships, space stations or planets for signs of life. Sealy Garrison–Constance O’Rourke’s assistant. If Constance isn’t available, Sealy is the man to see. Secret Sciences Police (SSP)–Formed to ensure that no one toys with time travel or biowar sciences, to protect the Amalgamation and its interests. Secundus System–System to which Quartus Seven belongs. Similar to Earth’s system, Secundus possesses nine planets, many of which are uninhabitable due to extreme atmospheric conditions, though the use of atmospheric domes enables limited habitation of some of the planets. Silver Arrow–Silver balls that expand into shafts of corresponding light and only work as a piercing weapon. Smith Gate–Device used to access worm holes. It is located near the largest, most advanced planet in the system and significantly cuts down travel times. Smith Hole–Proper name for the worm holes used by Smith Gates. Spectra-shades–Special shades used to see Orbit Wisps. Super Soldiers–Bio-engineered super soldiers, produced on Earth as supreme fighting beings. The Web–Base of operations for Bounty Hunters, Inc. Tomozava–A blue fleshy vegetable that is a cross between a tomato and a zava vegetable. Tranq-ring–Ring that administers a dose of tranquilizer to a bounty/person/being but does not affect the ring’s wearer. T-Sdei Delta–The party planet. Located in the Secundus System, neighboring Quartus Seven.
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Ulric Vonner–President and founder of Bounty Hunters, Inc. Vanquiguard–Wristband that, when activated, creates an energy shield to protect the wearer. Zava–Blue, tomato-like vegetable that is indigenous to the planet Azo Eta. Also known as tomozava. Zeri–Night shift cook for The Web.
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Prologue Welcome to the Devil’s Pit. Home sweet home. My name is Ulric Vonner and I run The Web, the base of operations for Bounty Hunters, Inc. You need criminals found? We will find them. The crime doesn’t matter. Remember that we don’t work for free— our fees are high, but we always catch our man, woman, or whatever species it is that you’re after. Of course, catching them and bringing them in are two different things. We may be scoundrels but we aren’t without conscience. I started this business fifteen years ago. Hunters come and hunters go, but that’s life. No one lasts forever, not in this business. Each of my bounty hunters has his or her reasons for turning hunter. I don’t ask what they are and I don’t care. They war with their inner demons, carve out a living for themselves, and then they move on— provided they survive their stint as a hunter. I don’t get attached, and I don’t mourn their loss. I learned long ago not to depend on anyone but myself. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, which is the primary reason I deal with the Amalgamation. Behind every great power is corruption, and the Amalgamation is no exception. However, they do pay well, and I’m not without my own agenda. I fight to survive and to hold on to what little I have left. Bounty Hunters, Inc. gives me a purpose and a damn good excuse to move in the circles I do. It’s said a man is judged by the company he keeps, so what does that say about me? In a galaxy fraught with danger, Bounty Hunters, Inc. will strive to satisfy all our customers—if it’s in our best interests to do so. Though we may wear a veneer of legal process, we are bounty hunters and we hunt those we are paid to hunt. If in the process we bring down those who would do harm to others—so much the better. What is a bounty hunter? We’re just glorified rogues trying to make the best out of what life tossed our way. The galaxy is not without its flaws or its bad seeds, and that’s what we’re here for—to do the jobs no one else wants. The best way to learn about Bounty Hunters, Inc. and me is to first get to know the people who work for me. They are good people in their own ways, but if you cross them, be prepared to face the consequences. Let the hunting begin… Prologue Copyright © 2007 by Heather Holland, Anh Leod and Eilis Flynn
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Chapter One
Another hard night on Quartus Seven “I’m dreaming about Nine again. I can tell where I am because the dome above the main city on Aboo Nine has that long crack that doesn’t penetrate, so you always feel like you’re under a disaster about to happen.” John Doe rubbed his fingers against his temples, feeling them scratch the edges of his sandy brown crew cut. “That’s a slum world, isn’t it?” pDoc shifted in his chair. John found it fascinating that a holographic psychiatrist, basically a computer with a visual presence, was programmed to move like a human, even though he could see the outline of the chair under the see-through hologram. Vonner, John’s boss, had ordered to him undergo psychoanalysis any time he was spending time in the Web’s dormitory rooms. John preferred to keep his thoughts to himself but he needed his job, at least until his ship was paid off. “It’s a slum now, both the planet and the main city.” John stretched his neck in both directions before letting his cheek rest against the cool synthetic leather of the couch. “It used to be beautiful.” “You spend much time there?” John shrugged. “I try to avoid it. I’ve picked up a bounty or two in the area, of course. Miners from the rest of the Aboo system often go there to party.” “Go on.” “I don’t look much like my parents but if you follow the family tree back far enough you can see the Hofmann family resemblance. There’s always a chance the military junta that overthrew my father’s rule on Aboo Nine will come after me.” The hologram steepled his virtual fingers. “But they think you’re dead.” John chewed on the inside of his cheek. These sessions always came back to his shattered identity. Why? Was Vonner afraid his employee would become a liability? “Alexander Hofmann is dead. He’s been dead for seventeen years, since 2391.” “How do you feel about that?” John fought to keep his irritation from showing. “You know how it goes. Someone could decide I’m a cause to rally behind, the only one left in my family. Vonner is a cautious man though. He didn’t find me, rescue me from the killing field on Quartus Two and patch me up to lose his investment after only two years. Vonner knows I’m not likely to run back to Nine and lead the Resistance.” He had never known if his ship had been attacked by the military junta or not. Had they discovered his identity in the mercenary unit he’d been a part of before joining Vonner?
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Vonner had separated him from his unit and given him a fresh start. “I’ve been working for him since then.” John frowned. “What’s the difference? It’s a job.” Vonner had even given his latest badass bounty hunter a new name, John Doe, some colloquialism from old-time America, he guessed. “Perhaps,” said pDoc. “Don’t you ever want to go back? Free your world and take your rightful place as the son of kings? Seventeen years ago, isn’t that what your rescuers intended you to do?” “I’m also the son of the Earth-born conquerors. I have merc blood from way back. Vonner doesn’t need to worry that I’ve got plans beyond paying off my ship.” The Resistance was safer without him for now. “Look, I don’t know why Vonner makes me meet with you. Does he need reassurance? I’d be happier using my off hours to relax with a pleasure droid or one of the exotic dancers in Devil’s Pit. Or both at the same time.” He coughed, not embarrassed exactly but then again you never knew who listened to the recordings of these sessions. Vonner always seemed to know too much. The Web had employees too, not all of them holograms. Some of them, like the beautiful night cook Zeri, were even telepathic. The holo-doc ignored his sexual interests in the interest of focusing, as always, on the hard questions. “What would it take to make you go back to Aboo?” As pDoc spoke, an alarm went off on the desk next to him. As the patient, John was expected to get up from the couch and turn it off himself, then leave. His time was up and as always he was irritated. At least the couch had been comfortable. As he tossed and turned on the overly firm mattress in his bunk that night, his nightmares were going to be courtesy of that repair loan he had coming due on the Killer, his ship. He never should have used a Devil’s Pit mechanic for the work but he still hadn’t entirely paid off his ship purchase loan to Vonner so he couldn’t afford a mechanic who wasn’t a slummer. Vonner didn’t let them use his own mechanics for free, of course, unless the repair was needed due to a takedown. The Killer had just desperately needed routine maintenance and now John couldn’t escape the system without paying the guy off. Ado, his mechanic, had a sadistic thick-necked brother who would come after him. He wouldn’t put it past the enforcer to tear up the Killer with his oversized laser cannon just for the hell of it. He wasn’t out of options, though. Thankfully he was off to the conference room for a meeting with Vonner. His comm-tab had announced a newly scheduled meeting with the man just as he was entering pDoc’s office. Maybe BHI had a high-dollar bounty available. John left the Medical Wing and headed toward the hub to the conference room. The Web’s corridors were empty, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Maybe he could sell his Icsantheze dagger to pay for the repairs. It ought to be worth something. There were other weapons and pieces of equipment he could do without too, if he must. In a place like the Devil’s Pit he could make plenty of money selling services of various
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kinds, if he wanted to sink that low. He could even sell some of his droid’s parts. The droid’s damaged voice box was one distinct possibility. AL-BD27, his birth-droid, had been damaged in the assassination attack seventeen years ago and it’d been a yoke around John’s neck ever since. He was considering this when he entered the conference room. Vonner didn’t hold much with large meetings, so the room was basically another office with extra chairs. “PDoc give you something to think about?” Vonner asked. John looked up, surprised to see Vonner behind his desk. His boss’s coal-black eyes seemed to suck all truths right out of him as always. “No, I was trying to decide what to pawn so I could pay off my ship repairs.” “What did you do with the money from Rags Bueller’s bounty?” His last dead-or-alive had been brought in very dead indeed but there had been enough DNA remaining to claim the bounty. “Paid you the three months’ mortgage I owed on the Killer. Had a tattoo removed.” “I thought your face was looking unadorned.” John had sported a black tear tattoo under his left eye. He’d gotten it when he was twelve in memory of his family but it gave him a distinguishing feature he didn’t need or want as a bounty hunter. The more anonymous he looked now the better off he was. “Yeah. You can’t tell it was ever there.” The lowlifes who thought they could recognize him by it would be in trouble now. “But you’re broke again.” “As broke as a philosopher on T-Sdei Delta.” The party planet next to Quartus Seven was a popular relaxation spot for bounty hunters, at least those flush with credits, which he never was. Vonner shrugged. “I’ll give you an advance.” John raised an eyebrow. “That’s not standard operating procedure.” Vonner was usually tight with his credits. “You’ll earn it back in a few days. I’m giving you Gaia Marlowe.” John allowed himself a smile. The talk around the poker table last night had been full of comments about the woman, a good bounty in more ways than one. Lots of credits for her capture and she was a hot female rather than the back-of-beyond, hardheaded, stinky sons of bitches that they’d all be better off not sharing the universe with, his usual bounties. “She’s a dead-or-alive, right?” Vonner shifted, his black hair brushing broad shoulders. “Your specialty.” “That’s a rare kind of contract on a woman.” John sat down on one of the folding chairs by Vonner’s conference room desk. Could Marlowe be the break he needed to pay off his debts? “From your smile, I’m guessing you know her story.”
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“Not at all, just rumors of her physical charms.” Vonner’s expression remained bland. “The late Toric Marlowe was her second husband, a member of the governing family of Xy-Three.” John frowned. “Was he someone very important?” “Yeah, Toric was the heir apparent and now Gaia’s former in-laws want her dead.” “The family thinks she killed him?” “You bet.” “She sounds like a bit of a mystery, despite her high-profile marriage.” The scuttlebutt at the poker table was that she was sexy as well, with a mysterious past. “Guess she chose the wrong man.” Vonner tossed him a data card. “Information on her, as well as enough credits to pay off your Killer mechanic and prepare for your hunt.” So Vonner had known about his debt all along. Figured. “Thanks.” He started to stand up, then sat again. “Did Gaia Marlowe kill her husband?” “What do you care? You’ll be paid for her.” John nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” Having a sense of right and wrong never did any bounty hunter any good. “Did the Marlowes go through the Amalgamation to order the contract?” Vonner smirked. “Yes. You’re working for the Amalgamation.” He never commented overtly but he knew why John had asked. John didn’t like to work for governing families directly, in case they recognized him as one of their own. The Amalgamation may have paid for his family’s assassination but the intergalactic government was so enormous that one tentacle rarely knew what the other was doing. “Okay then.” He gave Vonner a mocking salute and left the conference room. BHI was having a good day, he noted, passing a couple other bounty hunters heading toward the hub on his way to the dormitory wing. “Meeting with Vonner?” he asked a diminutive female who nonetheless wore tight canvas camouflage pants similar to his own and a laser pistol on her hip. “I hear the Amalgamation is on another witch hunt,” she replied, flashing him a hint of bright teeth in her cocoa face. “Happy hunting,” he called. “You too, soldier man,” said the other hunter, a muscular red-haired woman who couldn’t be more than half human, with her long slender ears and protruding lips. He wondered what else Vonner had to offer his crew. Asteroid storms had a way of ratcheting up crime in this galaxy and there had been a bad one three days ago. Still, he didn’t pass any other hunters on his way to his home in the Web. His dormitory room wasn’t much but at least Vonner didn’t charge him for that. Inside, he smelled the odors peculiar to wherever he lived, machine oil, liniment and a
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semi-housebroken puppy. He dropped onto his bunk next to his snoozing Dachshund, Alpheus. Alpheus had gotten bored again, John saw, since the coverlet of his bunk was chewed and rumpled. The missing AL-BD27 had failed at an assigned task yet again. He should stop giving the droid assignments at all. Thankfully the female puppy appeared to have a laid-back disposition for the most part, rare in her breed, from what he understood. He gave her smooth, red and cream coat a pat. “How are you, pretty girl?” Alpheus vocalized an excited greeting. She had brightened his life since she’d arrived. John grabbed her grooming kit from the counter and gave her a thorough brushing, wondering what had happened to his droid. Was it out wandering the corridors of the Web again? One never knew what AL-BD27 was capable of. Six weeks ago it had shown up with the puppy, unable to explain where it had found her. Another time it had inexplicably dismantled the comm-unit in the Killer, only for John to discover someone had bugged it. How had the droid known? He’d been unable to trace the bug to its owner. Probably it had belonged to Rags Bueller’s gang and they were disbanded now anyway. After Alpheus had her fill of attention and padded to her food dish, John put his data card into the portable reader he’d left on his desk and called up the data on his latest bounty. Gaia Marlowe was twenty-nine, he discovered. Almost two years older than he was. A native of Aboo Nine, she’d been an exotic dancer before a small-time crystolium dealer named Lon Inlo married her. For exotic dancer John read prostitute and for small-time crystolium dealer he read thug. He could be wrong but after all, the man had ended up dead and the woman had ended up John’s dead-or-alive contract. Besides, he knew what had happened to his home. He wondered if Vonner realized he was sending John after one of his own people. At least he was unlikely to have known her in his childhood days as the heir apparent to Aboo Nine. The Inlos had moved to in the Xy system together, which made sense since crystolium and other precious metals were mined there. Then Inlo was murdered. Apparently no one suspected Gaia, since she managed to infiltrate high society and go after the Marlowe heir. Again this made sense, since a dealer like Inlo was bound to wind up in trouble. The real question was how Gaia had been able to move so high up the ladder with her background. Was she a gifted seductress? John displayed her picture, letting out a low whistle when he saw her voluptuous form. For once, the gossip around the poker table hadn’t been exaggerating. He felt a familiar hardening against the tape at his pants’ front. If his cock stood to attention at her mere picture, what was it going to do in the presence of the real woman? No wonder she’d managed to move up in the world.
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No pureblood Aboolans remained since the system had been discovered more than three centuries before. They had mingled with humans, creating a hybrid race of wide variety. Gaia had thick blue-black hair that curled around her walnut-brown shoulders and eyes that were long and tilted at the corners. Her lips were full and wide. He couldn’t tell if she was wearing lip enhancement or if her lips were truly rosy red. She was a walking advertisement for sex and if she had been a prostitute he imagined she’d have been an expensive one. Hell. Was she a bounty or a pinup poster? It was hard to know. The irony was that Gaia Marlowe wasn’t precisely beautiful. Each of her individual features was too bold for that. Nonetheless she was compelling, alluring. He turned his attention away from her and checked the balance of his account. Vonner’s advance was generous—again, it had been unexpected but John imagined his boss had his reasons—and he’d better get his repairs paid off before he left. Time to head to the Devil’s Pit. Then he could track down his droid and get back on the Killer.
***** John always felt vaguely uneasy in the seedy neighborhood around the BHI headquarters. He assumed it was because all his merc senses went on alert, trying to scream danger at him but he couldn’t walk around with a laser pistol set to kill when he was trying to make deals or get information. Also, there was no team available to call for backup. It was hard enough to get information in places like this without looking like you were about to annihilate your squealer. Like him, men walked around with various sorts of weaponry at their hip. He’d prefer to rely on his tranq-ring rather than more serious weaponry most of the time. All he had to do was touch someone with it and a tiny needle would inject a tranquilizer. Even better, there wasn’t any noise. He winced as he saw a man with hair sprouting from all the orifices on his head clout a scantily dressed woman and throw her over his shoulder. The woman didn’t make a noise as the man pushed open the street-level door of a stained, multistory concrete box. Steps led up to apartments on the second floor above a Red Reaper chain restaurant. John didn’t know if he’d just witnessed the beginning of a rape or a paid seduction, or even a happy couple playing sex games but he knew better than to pursue them to find out. That’s why he liked dead-or-alive bounties. The type of people caught in them rarely offered subtlety. It was get in, get out, get paid. Habitation under a dome, like his life in general, offered few comforts. This planet had no indigenous plant forms or, thankfully, species, except some plants that grew around the ocean, so all he could see were endless crumbling buildings lit up by holograms when the owners could afford it. His destination offered a large pink breast hologram with a flashing red nipple above the door. Nothing baffling about that. He 15
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pushed aside the leather flaps that constituted a door at The Witch’s Tit and walked in. Most nights his ship mechanic, Ado, could be found foaming at the mouth over the alien sex shows The Tit featured. John’s attention was immediately caught by the activity on the stage. Four performers were up there under the lights, three with wings. A slender, aesthetically handsome alien more than two meters tall was chained to a plastic disk that slowly rotated. Three green-tinged, less-than-a-meter tall aliens from another species hailing from the same Jiborui system as the first, floated around nibbling sensuously at the chained figure. John could hear the chained alien grunting softly, though whether in pain or pleasure he couldn’t tell. He hadn’t even taken a seat at the counter wrapping around the edge of the stage when one of the pocoJibs waved a wing at him and winked. The pocoJibs were a frequent feature of The Tit’s shows but he’d never seen a Jurgian on stage before. He’d have thought the wise old hermaphrodite race, the one Amalgamation leader Krys Xan was a part of, were much too dignified to take part in a cheap sex show. Still, John was fascinated. He’d never seen a Jurgian’s genitalia before. Sure, there were rumors that both penis and vagina were fully developed but here was the proof, engorged and looped by gold paint on the Jurgian’s body. Of course it was hard to see details, between the spinning disk and the way one of the pocoJibs was playing with the alien’s ball sac. Still, by focusing he caught quick glimpses of a large phallus and a moist vagina. There was something funny about the hermaphrodite’s brown-black eyes. The irises were sloppy, unformed. Ah, that was it. The poor sucker had sacrificed his intellect to assassino di anima, one of the new drugs that promised an easy solution to the pursuit of happiness. The Jurgians built space technology with their amazing brains, the pocoJibs expanded consciousness and destroyed mental capacity with theirs. “Drugs,” he said with disgust. “Many don’t have your self control,” said Ado, dropping heavily into the seat next to him, as a Trusthalian waitress came to take their order. “Those pocoJibs know a good high when they invent one.” “What’s the point?” John said. “If I’m looking for a good time I’d rather fuck.” “Not everyone is a cunt magnet like you,” Ado said cheerfully. Ignoring this compliment in favor of the business at hand, John pulled a data card out of his pocket and passed it to Ado. He’d pulled the credits he owed out of his account and patched them into Ado’s dealer account. All Ado would have to do was accept them. “You bring in a job on someone else’s ship?” Ado said doubtfully. “I’m surprised you could work without the Killer.” “I work alone,” John said. “It’s an advance on my next bounty.” “Hmmf,” Ado grunted. “Vonner’s either very confident or very desperate. Which is it?” 16
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“Confident, of course,” John grinned, slapping the man on the shoulder. “I’m the best.” “So am I,” said Ado, fixing his eyes on the spinning Jurgian. One of the male pocoJibs had his mouth on the hermaphrodite’s cock now. The cock moved in and out of the small green orifice. A second pocoJib floated up behind the first, a large black strap-on belted to her waist. She impaled the first and he lost his rhythm on the large cock for a moment. “You won’t have any problem with the Killer.” John blinked as the third pocoJib, another male, impaled the female from behind, making a chain of four beings being pulled in circles by the disk. He was getting dizzy just watching. “You get any insight into that bug AL-BD27 found?” “Nah. But it was very sophisticated. Nothing Bueller’s gang would have been able to afford. You do a lot of work for the Amalgamation.” “Nearly all my bounties come from them.” “Probably them then, keeping an eye on you.” “Great,” John muttered. If the powers that be had their eye on him, what was the guarantee they wouldn’t turn him over to the military junta? He’d better hope the bug was from someone else. John Doe was no man’s pawn and he’d choose his own fights. He glanced at the hermaphrodite again. The alien had climaxed but was still hard. It pulled the first pocoJib off its cock and rotated the small being until it could get a small penis into its vagina. It wasn’t easy with its cock in the way but it managed, its mouth opening in ecstasy. At least the broken alien could still enjoy itself. John waved goodbye to Ado and headed out of The Tit. On his way through the streets to the Web, he put on his spectra-shades in the hopes of catching sight of an orbit wisp. He’d asked the creatures to go through their spectral information network to see if they could get any registration information on the bug the droid had found. It wasn’t often that he could afford the energy cubes they required as payment but he really wanted answers to his questions. Within ten minutes he saw a floating green creature ahead of him. He didn’t know how the orbit wisps worked but they had access to more information than any other informants he’d run across and they shared a common source of information so that any one of them had the information he paid for. “Hunter,” the green mass greeted. “We have business with you.” “Yes,” John said, pulling two energy cubes from his pocket. “My registration information.” The orbit wisp floated closer, rattling off the first registration code. “The bug was marked stolen from the ISA.” “Government stuff,” John said with a groan. That could go either way. Bueller’s gang could have stolen it, or it could have been marked stolen by the Intergalactic Security Agency to make it untraceable. At least it was unlikely to belong to the military junta of Aboo Nine.
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John tossed the two cubes at the being. It flared as it accepted the energy into its body. He took off his spectra-shades in disgust. The conversation had gotten him nowhere.
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Chapter Two Voyages
In his ship cabin the next morning, John set Alpheus down and made sure there was food and fresh water for the puppy before heading to the Killer’s bridge. Though quarters here were even more compact than in the Web’s dormitory he felt more at home. Soon, the ship might even be his in truth. AL-BD27 hadn’t appeared in the dorms during the night but it was seated in the Killer’s ready room when John had arrived. The droid could also be powered off to a degree and also had a kind of sleep process that refreshed and recharged it, though it was cut off from any potential upgrades. John sat down in the seat next to his droid and checked the status reader on the droid’s arm casing. It had been recharging for six hours. That should be enough time. He pushed a button on the sleeve and a connector removed itself from the wall and retracted into AL-BD27’s thigh. The droid blinked. “Hello, John.” The voice didn’t have quite the inflections that humans did. Some droids did look close to human but not this model, because of the unblinking eyes and obvious metal exterior covering large parts of its body. “BD,” John returned. “Where were you before your rest cycle?” The droid wriggled its nose, an unfortunate defect that signified it was processing large amounts of information. “You won’t mind if I scan you for bugs?” John pulled out his reader and pulled up the program. It didn’t hurt to be cautious after the Killer’s bugging incident. BD stared unblinking as John scanned. When the “bug-free” message came up on the small screen he put the unit back in one of the many pockets of his canvas utility pants. “I’m c-c-clear?” BD stuttered. The nose wriggling stopped. John closed his eyes. “Yes.” He hated that stutter. “Yes. So do you know what you’ve been doing? I asked you to stay with Alpheus yesterday while I was at my appointment but you weren’t there when I returned.” “I had a message.” “From whom?” “Ado said the ship was ready.” “That was the message from the morning,” John told it. “What happened while I was gone?” “I don’t know. I’m defec-c-ctive,” said BD sadly.
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“Don’t waste processing power. Check your memory again.” BD had a quality mechanical brain but also the droid equivalent of epilepsy and one never knew if data had been stored properly. “I don’t remember.” John looked around the space. Not large, it nonetheless held a weapons cabinet, food and drink dispensers, two chairs and a couch, not nearly as nice as pDoc’s and a game table. Was anything new in the room? He’d requisitioned stores before he left for Devil’s Pit. The dispensers were full, he saw and there was a new energy bow in the weapons cabinet. “Nice,” he said with approval. “I’ve been wanting to try one of those but O’Rourke said he was all out of them. “I went to see Dex,” BD said. John turned back. “You did? That makes sense.” Though the patterns of BD’s nonlinear brain did not. The Web’s computer geek might very well have thought of some maintenance or treatment he could do on BD. “Obviously he didn’t fix the stutter or nose wiggle though.” BD pushed a button on his metal chest and opened the compartment. John could see there was a section built into the chest cavity that hadn’t been there before. “What’s that?” It looked like tubing with a yellow-tinged fluid moving slowly through it. BD looked down. “An immunity potion Doc came up with. He had Dex install it.” “How is it used?” “I’m supposed to pierce the tubing with a syringe and inject the fluid into you. It would c-c-clean your blood of any pollutants.” “Huh,” John said. “That could come in handy if I pick up some disease in one of these filthy slums.” “Is the puppy okay?” BD asked. “I did not intend to abandon her.” “Yeah, she’s fine,” John said. “That’s the good news. The bad is that the bug was stolen government property.” “Those orbit wisps seem to have a better reputation than the results they give.” “For me at least,” John agreed. “I’ll keep trying to find out who is bugging us. I don’t like the idea of anyone keeping tabs on us.” “I hope the Aboolan government hasn’t found you,” BD said. “You have work, a place to live, even a ship. It is a good life.” “True enough,” John said. “Did Dex install any more nanobots into your memory?” “No. He didn’t like that my brain short-circuited the last ones.” “Fair enough,” John muttered. “Let’s get to work. I thought we’d head to Xy-Three first, see what Gaia Marlowe’s associates have to say about her. She’s a privileged woman and may very well have escaped off planet but we have to start somewhere.”
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“You’ll get her,” BD said. “You always do.” John tossed the droid his reader. “Get familiar with the case while I do our flight check.”
***** John plotted a course to Xy that took seven Smith gates to navigate. When they were through he checked the Killer’s crystolium levels and saw they were holding. Ado may be a lowlife but he did good work. The seventh wormhole let them out above Xy-One’s orbit. Xy-One was the major planet in this system and even had a hunter safe house nearby. Xy-Three, a much smaller planet, offered less chaos than the crystolium rich moons and asteroids around One. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t rich mining, but it was small enough to be easily controlled. At least by a ruthless family. He’d had time to do some research on the Marlowes during the flight. Two generations ago, they had made their fortune mining an asteroid to Swiss cheese after stealing the claim. Toric’s grandfather had settled the now wealthy family on Xy-Three and by the end of his life was legitimate enough to become governor for five years, a post that passed to his son who had now been governor for fifteen years. Toric had not been his elder son, but Toric’s older brother had died from a drug overdose, leaving Gaia’s husband the heir apparent. The older brother had died from an overdose of assassino di inibizione, an older sexual potency drug created by the pocoJibs. Had the same substance killed Toric? Of course it often took time for the proper tests to be run and interpreted, particularly if there had been multiple substances involved. He had been thirty-four years old at his death ten days ago. At least press reports divulged that he too had died from a drug overdose. Unfortunately none of the sources available in the public archives stated which drug or drugs had been Toric Marlowe’s usual indulgence and there were so many to choose from. Drugs to keep you alive. Drugs to keep you sexually active. Drugs to make you happy or energetic. Drugs to control minds. Drugs that were really poison. The pocoJibs were the experts but there were plenty of substances and producers out there. A Marlowe, though, would probably only take the best, assuming they had chosen to ingest. The orbit wisps could tell him what he wanted to know but he couldn’t afford to waste money or energy cubes if there was another way to get the information. As usual, he had left the Web a bit soon, too eager to get into the field. His mercenary brain couldn’t quite seem to latch onto the idea of sensible investigative procedures. It had been trained to action and didn’t understand other ways to do business. He set a course for Xy-Three’s main city, the arrogantly named Marlowe 1. The city held about twenty thousand beings of various species, including miners, their families and support services. There would be a healthy community of traders too, the people who knew Gaia when she was Mrs. Inlo, back before her rise to the top of local society. 21
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But he might as well cut to heart of things and talk to those who knew her recently. Likely she’d revert to old habits in distress but you never knew. Money gave a person options and she might still have access to some. The spaceport was in the second largest of three energy domes in the Marlowe 1 area. He had no trouble getting permission to land since he could claim he was there on Amalgamation business. The customs processor gave the Killer only a cursory glance at the receiving center since he didn’t have any goods to sell, then he was free to go wherever he wished. Some bounty hunters did carry goods, legitimate or otherwise but with his kind of bounties he’d found it best to get in and out quickly. Plus there was always the chance that a planet had some new, sophisticated system that could scan his real DNA instead of the fake markers AL-BD27 injected into him regularly. He moved the Killer into a hangar available for short-term rental and hooked his ship’s computer into the public data bank of Xy-Three. While his dog and droid played catch with a soft ball, John found the names of three society friends of Gaia Marlowe in the local news, women who’d been with her at the funeral a week ago before the family started claiming she had murdered her husband. He wondered what the original theory had been. Mishap like his older brother’s overdose? The earliest press report announcing Toric’s death had actually said only “mysterious causes”. Why had the Marlowes turned on the widow? Had they accused her at the point that a drug overdose had been pinpointed? He built a search to comb through the database for the addresses of Gaia’s friends. Aedre Peri, Bliss Marlowe—apparently a cousin of Toric’s—and Tayta Upton all lived in the same neighborhood. The map he retrieved indicated it was the second-best area of Marlowe 1. Not the small grouping of large estates in the obvious best zone but very upscale. Interestingly enough, none of the women were currently married. He did a further search and found they were all divorced, Aedre and Tayta from the same man. The upper class of a twenty thousand-person society must not leave many options for marriage partners, he supposed. How popular would Gaia be if she really had murdered one of the best catches? For that matter, how had these women felt when an outsider won Toric in the first place? Hot or not, she was just a bounty, he reminded himself. Get in. Get out. Get paid. John disconnected the computer from the public data bank and leaned back on the hard seat attached to the reader station. “BD?” “Yes?” “Stay inside with Alpheus. That’s inside the ship. Don’t even drop into the hangar. We don’t know what my reception will be here.” “What about the ship?” “Keep it ready to go, no maintenance this trip. It should be fine.” He scratched Alpheus around her pretty russet ears then went into his cabin.
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How was he going to play this? He made sure to dress in his best clothes—newish black leather trousers and a bright white shirt with only one stain that he could hide by rolling up the flowing sleeves, topped by a black vest. Though he’d leave his laser pistol on the ship, he still had his tranq-ring. It looked decorative enough with the fake black stone camouflaging the needle. He deferred the final touch of lime-scented aftershave or body spray he often wore to give himself something to smell other than often filthy bounties since he didn’t know what scents this society found attractive or irritating. He saw his permanently tanned brow corrugate in the mirror as he checked his appearance. How was he going to stay undercover when his childhood training as a governor’s heir kept feeding him cultural details? Bounty hunters shouldn’t know this stuff. He preferred the kind of cases he normally worked on the gritty space frontiers, where no one could care less about cologne. He shrugged at himself, straightened his shirt. The society files indicated this planet’s dwellers covered their bodies almost completely. When he stepped outside the hangar he found out why. It was a hot planet. The temperature at midday had to be above thirty-two degrees Celsius. Too bad he didn’t have a hat onboard but he had found a pair of sunshades for his eyes. The air was hazy with dust and he was grateful to find a light rail station in front of the spaceport. Marlowe 1 was not going to be a walking city. Even the triple domes didn’t make it less of a desert environment. He listened to the mix of traders, miners and businessmen as the train sped around the outskirts of the city. News of the day included crystolium price fluctuations, rumors of a change in the oxygen mix in the city and the location of Gaia Marlowe. His ears pricked up at the sound of her name despite not understanding the rest of the words in the language a couple of well-dressed women were speaking. It wasn’t Standard, that was for sure. The person seated next to him, a woman dressed elegantly in a formfitting white sheath with matching hat and gloves must have picked up the name too. “To think that woman might have been first lady of Xy-Three,” she said in evident disapproval to her similarly dressed preteen daughter. “Do you know what they are saying?” John asked. “I just got into town and am behind on the gossip.” “No, I don’t speak much Saxtonian.” She shook her head. “But that woman’s name raises my ire! I wish we’d never heard of her.” “Did you know her?” She looked pretty high society, he thought, even if she didn’t speak the snooty English dialect spoken by some wealthy Earth descendents. “Oh my, no. She didn’t mix much outside the Marlowe clan. They’re strange people but they keep things moving around here.” Business was good, he guessed. “Who is the heir apparent now with both Toric and his older brother dead?” “I believe Babel Marlowe is considered governor material,” she said. 23
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“He’s Bliss’ brother, right?” John asked, remembering the society files. “That’s right. Do you know Bliss?” He shook his head. “You?” “No, of course not. She’s part of that clan, another one of the addicts, I hear.” “They do a lot of drugs, then?” The woman lowered her voice. “Rumor is that Gaia was their dealer.” John pondered this as the train rattled to stop at his station on Merlin Avenue. He smiled at the woman and got in line for the exit. Not many people were leaving the train but even the upper classes rode it since personal vehicles were limited due to concerns about air quality. He decided to visit Aedre first, since she was the first wife of the man who had married both her and Tayta, therefore likely to be the worst off financially of Gaia’s three friends. Would that make her the most sympathetic or the most spiteful? Her small house was at the end of a row of three houses, on a street that made a forty-five-degree angle off Merlin. To the naked eye it didn’t have any protective devices so he simply walked to the front door and put his finger to the reader. He tucked his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt as the house computer did a quick database scan and discovering he wasn’t a wanted criminal, announced his arrival inside. A moment later, he heard a woman’s cultured voice. “What?” “Ms. Peri?” “Yes?” “I’m here on behalf of the Amalgamation.” The door slid open, which was a good thing since he didn’t have much in his persuasion arsenal. He didn’t want to break down the door in classic hunter fashion. The door led immediately to a small receiving room. As he walked into the center of the misty blue space a woman came toward him from the opposite end of the room. According to the files he’d read, Aedre Peri was no longer young, perhaps fifty, though she was obviously able to afford some minor cosmetic adjustments. She looked like a well-maintained forty except for her neck and hands. Her hair was chestnut brown and her eyes blue like her receiving room. “I didn’t know the Amalgamation hired such handsome men. I think of them as ugly old males from unattractive species. What does the Amalgamation want with me?” she asked with a hint of a smile, gesturing to a padded half-circle bench in front of a metal shelving unit where many bonsai trees were displayed. “Nothing that I’m aware of. My inquiry involves a friend of yours.” “And you are troubling me? Not that I mind, considering it’s you.” John ignored the flirtation. “I hope you’d help me locate her.” “Who?” Aedre raised a painted eyebrow.
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“Mrs. Marlowe.” “Which one? I can think of at least three.” “Gaia,” John said carefully, seating himself when it appeared he wouldn’t be tossed out. The woman appeared desperate for a flirtatious encounter. “Oh,” she said, looking startled. She didn’t sit down. “Shouldn’t you be speaking to her family?” “You mean the Marlowes.” “Well, yes. I don’t know of any other family.” That was too bad. “The Marlowes don’t know how to locate her.” “I see.” The woman’s expression went oddly serene. “May I offer you something to drink?” John was thirsty and his mouth tasted like dust. “Thank you.” Aedre nodded and left the room, the hem of her straight gray shift brushing the white tile of the floor as her hips swayed above. He stood again, examining the bonsai. Someone had taken a great deal of effort with the miniature trees. The rest of the room contained a fainting couch with a reader resting on it and a few paintings of flower arrangements. Spartan, yet feminine. Aedre returned with two short glasses in silver filigree holders. “No house droid?” he asked. “My life is comfortable enough but I have few luxuries,” she said, handing him a glass. He slipped his index finger through the handle and took a sip. Aedre watched him then took her own glass. “What do you know about me?” she asked, fluttering her hand gracefully to her breasts. “You were at Marlowe’s funeral and stood by Mrs. Marlowe at the cremation.” “Anything else?” Her fingers drifted over her nipples, then moved to her neck. “You’re divorced.” And lonely, he guessed. “What do the Marlowes have to say about Gaia?” “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to them personally.” Her mouth twisted as she took a sip of her drink and set it down. Too thirsty to follow suit, John drained his glass of the sour fruity beverage before placing the cup back onto the tray next to the fainting couch. “Sit,” she gestured. For some reason John didn’t find it strange to sit down on the couch and lean back. “Like pDoc,” he muttered. “Who is that?” “My psychiatrist.” Aedre smiled thinly. “An Amalgamation functionary who needs mental help?” 25
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“I’m not their employee,” John said, feeling hazy. Being on a couch like this made him ready to confide, as if pDoc had trained him to spill all his secrets under exactly this situation. “Whose then?” “Bounty Hunters, Inc.” He heard her indrawn breath. “What do they want with Gaia?” “She’s my bounty,” he said, relaxing into a long pause without curiosity. The room was warm rather than hot, quiet and peaceful. She cleared her throat. “Who is paying?” “The government. I told you I was here on Amalgamation business.” “The Marlowes?” Aedre pressed her hand to her covered throat. “They must have made the request up the chain of command. They are government, after all.” “Yes.” Aedre’s face had gone very white but it was also starting to blur. His eyes felt dry. “Do you know where she is?” John slurred. He felt strange. Maybe the heat had gotten to him. He should call the ship on his comm. Obviously he needed to get out of here. Aedre ignored him. “Why did you come to me?” “You’re her friend, aren’t you?” John asked. “You and Bliss and Tayta?” “I don’t know about Bliss,” she said slowly. “Her brother is heir now, I hear.” “Yes,” Aedre said after a pause. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” “Can you tell me where Gaia is?” John asked. “I need to find her.” “Why is it important to you?” A strange question. Didn’t she want her friend to be found? Maybe not. He didn’t care about Gaia exactly, so why was he here? John struggled with this for a moment, then smiled. “So I can pay off my ship.” Aedre muttered something he didn’t understand, probably in Saxtonian. “Relax now,” she instructed. “When you wake, you will leave my home and return to your ship.” “Need to see Bliss and Tayta,” he muttered, fighting her suggestion. “Leave the Xy system. You need to go back to BHI and tell your handlers that you can’t find Gaia,” she said. “Gaia,” John said dreamily, relaxing again. “She’s fascinating.” “Stunning,” Aedre said acidly. “I’d like to fuck her,” John said. “Just bend her over a bed and shove my cock in until she screamed. Her picture just got to me, you know?”
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Through slitted eyes, he saw Aedre’s hand flutter to her chest again as it rose and fell. Then her features fuzzed completely. “Where is she?” he said, certain this woman knew something. “I won’t hurt her if she comes quietly.” “I thought you wanted her to scream,” the woman said. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s better.” His eyes opened a fraction when he felt a hand on the tapes of his leather trousers. He realized he was hard. “I’ve been alone a long time,” she whispered. “How about you give me what I want? It won’t matter.” “What do you want?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, almost as thick as his cock felt as she loosed it from his briefs. “Focus on what you want. Pretend I’m her,” Aedre whispered in his ear, then licked it as she ran her smooth fingers along the ridge of his cock head then closed them around his length, arousing his nerve endings from root to tip. He felt a drop of pre-cum drip from his slit and she used it to lubricate him, smoothing it around his head. How could he focus on anything but this woman as she spread her knees over his legs and crawled up his body until she reached his cock? “Have you always wanted to be her?” He felt her heat as she pushed her dress up to her hips. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, he saw with vague surprise and her closely shaved pussy was leaking hot juices he could both feel and smell. “She had more than I ever did. She could have you.” “You always jump your guests?” he said, feeling surprise in some distant corner of his brain. She rubbed her hot, wet pussy along the length of his hard cock. “Of course not. But I couldn’t keep my hands off you. I could see the shape of your cock under those tight pants.” This resonated deep in his mind. He wasn’t here to fuck, he was here to work. He tried to push her off but she held on. “Pretend I’m her,” she repeated. “I have a job to do,” he said. Distantly, he remembered his tranq-ring, tried to bring it up. “I need to bring in Gaia.” “Pretend I’m Gaia,” she said, pushing his arm down, grinding against his pelvis until all he could do was thrust against her labia. “You’re frustrated with her. She’s hiding from you. Make her pay. Make her scream.” He obeyed blindly, closing his eyes at the same time as his fingers gripped her thin hips. He probed for her tight entrance with his throbbing cock then pressed into her. She gasped as he kept shoving into her cunt until his balls made contact with her skin. He wasn’t gentle. “I’m going to ride you, hunter,” she said, “until you forget all about her.” “No,” John said, rocking his hips. “I won’t forget.”
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Her juices flowed freely around his cock. He thrust again, holding her hips tightly against him. “Fuck me!” she demanded, pounding his chest with her fists. “I want to come. Gods I’ve needed a cock in me. I’ve itched for this. Fuck me harder!” He did as he was told, captured in the rhythm of fucking. Gods, he could already feel his balls tightening. “Harder!” she demanded. He slammed against her, feeling his cock hit something solid deep inside her. “Yes! More!” she ordered, no longer sounding like the flirtatious woman before but more like a drill sergeant. Sweat bloomed on his chest and back. He was losing focus. Getting impatient, he loosed her hips long enough to grab one of her hands and guide it to her center. “You want me to rub?” she said in a little-girl voice, like she’d taken on yet another new persona. “Yes, rub your clit for me,” he demanded. “Get yourself off.” “Yes,” she said. After a few seconds of that her hips began to gyrate on his thrusting cock. Her moans became gasps, breathless cries in that strange language. He felt her cunt grip him, quivering. She leaned toward him and came, her cunt milking his cock. He was close, he thought. She fell against his chest, catching herself with stabbing fingernails, crunching his sunglasses against his sternum. He didn’t mind the pain, taking in the additional sensation. He was still hard inside her when she pulled off him with a faint sucking sound. His fingers tried to clench his hips, hold her so he could finish too. His ring grazed her skin, injecting a small amount of tranquilizer into her skin. She climbed off the fainting couch, swaying. “You wouldn’t come anyway,” she said. “And you won’t be able to leave. The drug won’t let you. You’ll sleep now for a couple of hours and then go back to your ship and leave the system.” Her eyes began to roll back in her head. “I want answers,” he said, wanting to struggle up but feeling tired and heavy, his cock still turgid and unsatisfied, covered with her juices. “The only answer you need is that Gaia is innocent,” she hissed, reaching for the wall. John’s eyes closed and he felt himself drifting away. Gods, he hated drugs. The last thing he heard was a muttered “asshole” as she dropped to the floor next to him.
***** He woke on the front step of Aedre’s small house, eyes bleary and aching from the sun he now had no protection against. Some servant or friend of Aedre’s must have moved him while he was unconscious. Large planters filled with some kind of cactus
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hid him from the street but nonetheless it had been made clear he was no longer welcome. Even if he was willing to offer her another fuck, he imagined the door would not open for him again. Looking down he was glad to see they’d at least done him the courtesy of sealing the tapes of his leather pants, though he could tell from the sticky feeling that they hadn’t cleaned his cock first. It was still hard, though not in the pulsing, gotta-fuck way it had been before. What kind of woman had a friend like that? Something twisted inside him made him want to find Gaia even more, maybe do the things with her that he’d done with her friend. He closed the snaps of his shirt against the sun, covering up red spots where his sunglasses and Aedre’s nails had pierced him. First he’d have to find Gaia. How? The pain in his eyes forced his brain to start to function again. He had to get out of the sun. He stood up, balancing himself with a hand on the edge of one smooth planter until he knew he was steady. The memory of Aedre’s couch gave him an idea. He’d have to contact pDoc and have him do a profile of Gaia. Though he didn’t know much, at least pDoc might offer him a start. Deep in thought, he bent his head and retraced his steps back to the light rail stop. As he boarded the train, he remembered Aedre telling him Gaia was innocent. Recalling the photo he’d seen, he thought his bounty was anything but innocent, though he wasn’t sure under what category her guilt might fall. Had she supplied the drug Aedre had given him? Could she even have been in the house while he was being fucked?
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Chapter Three On autopilot
“Why are you setting a c-c-course for the Web?” Al-BD27 asked as the coordinates through the Smith gates came up on screen. “I have to tell Vonner I can’t find Gaia Marlowe,” John said. He was irritated because of an erection that just wouldn’t go away. “Weren’t you just talking to pDoc about a profile?” the droid asked, its artificial voice somehow sounding sarcastic. “Yes,” John said. He took his fingers off the ship computer. “So why would you go to the Web? Shouldn’t you wait for the information?” AlBD27 repeated. “I don’t know,” John said slowly. The droid didn’t have movable facial features but it did blink. “What happened in town?” “I went to Merlin Avenue, to get information. Gaia’s friend drugged me.” “What kind of drug?” John stared at his tented crotch. He’d put on loose pants and they made his uncomfortable condition very obvious. “Some kind of sex thing. Got me hard but I couldn’t come.” “You had sex with your c-c-contact?” Now the droid sounded amused. “So?” John growled. He put his hand to his head, noticed his fingers shaking. “Shit, I’m not sure what happened.” “Sounds as if the drug was more than just sexual. I think-k-k it must have been a brain softener.” “What?” “Maybe emolliente del cervello,” the droid mused. “With a hint of magia del sesso to get you naked.” “Huh?” John said, back on autopilot as he drove the Killer out of the hangar and communicated with Control to lift off the planet. He felt a sharp sting against his arm and jerked around to see his droid holding a metal device. “BD?” he asked. What was the crazy droid up to now? The droid met his eyes blandly. “Just doing a blood test.” It opened a panel on its arm and pressed the syringe against it. The droid’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and returned after John drove the Killer to the runway’s access point. “Yes, just what I thought. Poc-c-coJib,” the droid said. 30
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“PocoJib? You mean she got me with a high-end designer drug? Why waste something that expensive on me?” The ship shuddered as they waited. They were outside the dome now and the heat did strange things to the landscape, making it appear to undulate in shades of purple. “She did flirt a little with me but still. It’s like offering a fifty-credit hooker five thousand credits for the same blowjob.” “One moment, please.” The droid’s other forearm clicked and a compartment opened containing a vial of clear liquid. It pulled out the empty vial from its syringe and pressed in the new one. “Hold out your arm.” John did as instructed, feeling the sharp momentary bite of the needle yet again. His cock deflated and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. Why hadn’t he taken the time to clean up before sitting down and contacting Control? The droid patted his arm. “All better now. Be more c-c-careful in the future. Magia del sesso is only good for the ladies.” “I guess,” John muttered, then turned his attention back to the comm when a voice said they were next in line for lift-off. He moved the ship onto the runway. “Do you still want to leave?” BD inquired. “Too late now. We’re on the runway.” “So now what?” “I guess…” John began slowly. “I’m not feeling that intense need to head back to the Web and report to Vonner anymore.” “Good. The blood c-c-cleaner worked then.” “Aedre did say her friend was innocent. Does she know something or was she just saying that?” “You c-c-cannot interpret properly since you were drugged at the time,” BD said. “You’re right. Brace yourself.” At least he’d taken the bitch out too. He hit a button at Control’s command and began to move down the runway. The second button tilted the Killer and the third propelled them into space. John felt his cheeks pulling back from his face until the cabin pressurized properly. “Okay, we’ll have to make our way through the system before we reach the first Smith gate. Maybe I’ll get cleaned up.” “We should stop at Joey’s place,” BD said. “It’s on our way past Xy-One on that asteroid.” “The safe house? I’m not injured.” “Brain injury c-c-counts.” The comm clicked. John glanced at it and saw the call was from the Web. He heard a familiar voice on the other end. “Hello, John,” said pDoc. “I have that profile for you.” “Give it to me,” John said. “We’re clearing orbit.” “First, I have some information regarding Aboolan husband killers in general.”
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“Right. Go ahead.” “A husband killer is often a narcissist, not necessarily beautiful,” said the electronic psychiatrist. “Though she has intensely feminine charms. She’s likely to relocate after killing her husband, changing every aspect of her identity except her widowhood, which they use to gain sympathy with acquaintances who will introduce her to other men. She’ll need a man to adore her again. “A wife will commonly kill in her mid-thirties, when her youth begins to fade and perhaps her husband’s attentions too. In Aboolan culture this is common and a man will not face any condemnation for trading his old wife in for a new. I don’t have much information about Marlowe 1 but as heir this Toric may have been pressured to find a more politically connected bride. Regardless, the murder will be methodically planned and executed, cold-blooded. Poison is a common weapon.” How did any of this bookish information help? Sometimes John didn’t mind so much that he was a man made for action. “Gaia Marlowe doesn’t exactly fit, does she? She’s too young.” “The rest might fit,” pDoc said. “Profiles are generalizations. Now that was an Aboolan murder profile. We can also profile the person who committed a specific crime, or predict what a certain person’s next actions will be. “We pose the question, who benefits from Toric Marlowe’s death. Of course, we first look at the wife. Was there abuse, a large insurance policy?” John stared at the viewscreen. He could see white streaks as they passed through the shipping lanes toward the Smith Gate. “This guy was the future governor of XyThree. Unless she has a secret boyfriend who is a bigger deal it seems like she’d be better off with him.” “Any abuse?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get very far with my investigation.” His hand cupped his crotch, instinctively protecting himself. “Who else might benefit?” This one he knew. “The new family heir.” “You should try to speak to him. He or his associates would be obvious suspects if the widow doesn’t benefit.” “I’m not trying to investigate Toric’s death, I’m trying to capture my bounty,” John said. “Don’t waste my time with this other stuff. I need you to predict where Gaia Marlowe will be, so I can cuff her and take her to the Abyss. If she’s still alive.” “As your psychiatrist, I don’t believe that. The past haunts you, John. Why would you give this woman so little consideration? She’s as much an exile now as you are.” He only cared about the money. “She’s a job. A good job. Where is she?” If pDoc were human he’d have sighed. “Gaia Marlowe has been stripped of her status. She would disappear to either lick her wounds or look for a way to support
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herself. If she’s looking for a man she’s gone to a large city and joined social groups to find her next husband. If she’s innocent she’s hiding somewhere she knows well.” “Like wherever she lived with Inlo, her last husband?” “Didn’t they live on Xy-Three?” “Yes, toward the end of Inlo’s life but Marlowe 1 is a small place. How long could she hide, even in the slums?” “Then where would she have gone?” Shit. “Aboo Nine.” He pulled up the coordinates. “As far as I know she’s lived nowhere else. That’s where we’ll go.” “If she’s not a murderer.” “Thanks for your help, pDoc. I have to start somewhere. Doe out.” He turned to his droid. “Better update my markers in case that damn junta has improved their DNA scans since our last trip.”
***** I really hate coming here, John thought gloomily as he pulled into a rented hangar outside Nine on Aboo Nine. This was where his parents and brother had died. This is where the people who’d saved his life lived, the ones who wanted him to be a cause to rally behind. But what was the point of becoming a cause when the Amalgamation backed the military junta running things? The planet was run well enough without him anyway. No one was suffering, no one was starving. He did keep up on the local news, just in case the situation here changed. “Do you think it was a mistake to come here?” he asked his droid, strapped into a seat behind him. AL-BD27 was configured to operate the ship’s weapon systems, though John relied on it as little as possible. It could also control the ship’s specially fitted laser cannons from the helm. “Where else would we have gone?” asked the droid, disconnecting its safety harness. Anywhere but here. “Back to Marlowe 1. She could have been hiding out with her friends.” “They will be siding with Babel Marlowe now. He’s the heir and they will want to stay out of trouble. Helping Gaia won’t win her friends’ favor with her former in-laws.” The droid had just finished reading John’s updated case file. “You’re probably right. She won’t find refuge there.” John grimaced. He knew the droid was correct. The slums of Nine it was. Of course, if she really was a murderer she probably wouldn’t be on Aboo Nine either, since this is where she met her first husband, Lon Inlo. But he sensed the woman was licking her wounds rather than in search of a new husband.
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Once the ship was safely anchored in the hangar John removed his safety harness and went to check on Alpheus who was shut into his cabin for safety. His puppy was looking neglected and he could see the glint in her eye that indicated more coverlets would soon be full of doggy chew holes. Since he wasn’t really enthused about going into Nine, he grabbed a red squeaky ball and went into the ready room with her. Her favorite game was doggy soccer and he amused them both by tossing the ball for her to kick back to him or catch in her mouth while he connected the ship’s computer to the planet archives just in case anything exciting was going on. Nine wasn’t much different from the Devil’s Pit, just larger. The city had been nicer back in 2391 before the coup, when the Amalgamation had sent in the Secret Sciences Police along with a contingent of the Interplanetary Military Forces and overthrown his father with the help of the junta that now ran things. But then again, slums suited him just fine, since that was where he usually worked now. Look what had happened on Marlowe 1 when he’d tried to operate in a high-class environment. He’d been drugged and unsatisfactorily fucked, that was what. One thing he needed to look up was Gaia’s former places of employment. The sexy “exotic dancer” had presumably worked at a club but Vonner hadn’t given him any details beyond that, so John set up searches for Gaia and her photograph in relation to clubs. If she was a nobody nothing would come up but if she’d ever been featured there might be a show announcement buried in the databases somewhere. The system thought about his searches while Alpheus trotted back and forth happily with the squeaking ball, her pink tongue lolling from her mouth. “She loves it when you play with her,” Al-BD27 observed. “You ought to spend more time playing.” “Got to pay the bills somehow.” John tossed the ball clear back into his cabin when the computer beeped. Finally. Aboo Nine’s computers must be in as good a shape as their capital city. Gaia had been featured at a club called The Tilted Suck back in 2395 when she was just sixteen. So she had really been an exotic dancer. Didn’t mean she wasn’t also a whore, of course. A couple of years later she was in a revue at Draco’s Whip. There was a note at the bottom of the electronic flyer saying to see Mannie for private lessons. What kind of lessons? That was nine years ago when Gaia was still single at twenty. Probably Mannie was long gone but this was his first local resident’s name and names were everything in the game of bounty hunting. John ran a search on Mannie in case it pulled up anything interesting or an indication that the person was dead. Alpheus came back with the ball. It squeaked as she tossed her head. The ball dropped to the ground and came to rest next to the pole under his chair that bolted it into the structure of the ship.
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“Playtime’s over, sweetheart. I’ve got to go to work now.” Alpheus nuzzled the ball and flopped down at his feet as the computer beeped again. “Mannie might be a solid hit,” John told his droid. “Looks like he, she or it owns Draco’s Whip, or at least they did eleven months ago when they last paid taxes.” “Stay in touch,” the droid advised. “Every two hours or I’ll c-c-come looking for you. We don’t want a repeat of Marlowe 1.” “I’ll bring my laser pistol this time,” John promised. “It won’t look out of place here.” “Will it look-k-k out of place at this c-c-club? What kind of establishment is it?” John grinned. “Some kind of S&M place, I suppose, from the name. Let’s hope the women are attractive.” “Best wear your black leathers again then,” the droid advised. “But perhaps not the white shirt with them.” An hour later John left the ship in his leather pants, a leather vest, a black bandanna covering his hair and heavy boots. His pistol was holstered at his waist and he had his thiris clasped around his arm. The handle of a blaster stuck out of his boot, just to get the point across. Alpheus didn’t like the thiris so he rarely wore it. John wondered if she could smell the deadly poison imbedded in it. His tranq-ring didn’t seem to bug her but then it wasn’t lethal. Nine was a much larger city than Marlowe 1 and older too. The entertainment choices were more sophisticated. Understandable with the Amalgamation headquarters only seven planets away. No doubt more than a few senators slummed in these parts. Might as well, with their pet government in place. “You got it?” he asked Al-BD27 as he opened a cargo hold and pulled down the ramp. “Yes.” The droid appeared from the dark interior pushing a slim silver motorbike. “Now this is going to be fun,” John said, smiling. The bike was powered by electricity and didn’t have the longest range but it would get him where he needed to go today. He couldn’t take it out when he thought he was going to bring in a bounty but he didn’t expect today to be one of those days. BD shook his head. “Remember the time you broke your arm falling off this thing? And the time you sliced your head open when that Rags Bueller lunged at you with a spear?” “That was last Wednesday,” John reminded him. “Of course I remember. I’ll be more careful this time.” “Don’t c-c-come back in a body bag.” “I’m not a soldier anymore,” John said. “No worries.” He mounted the bike and put his finger to the lock. The engine roared, happy to be alive. He could get more distance if he tuned the motor for efficiency but he liked the noise. It said “lock up your daughters, there’s a badass on the loose”. 35
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“See ya.” He gave his droid a salute and rolled out of the hangar as the door slid back. He’d forgotten the pollution. Here you might not need sunshades but you definitely wished for a breathing mask. What had happened to the venting system? It hadn’t been that long since he’d been here, picking up one of Rags’ associates as he tried to track down the big guy himself but it seemed even worse. A coughing bounty hunter just didn’t look that tough. He could already tell that he’d be wiping soot from his nose, mouth and eyes for days. Draco’s Whip was about two kilometers from the hangar, heading east. At first the scenery was industrial, though he could see trees in one direction but soon all he saw was a red-light district. First the buildings were sagging, leaning into one another, then they became prefab structures that were meant to be temporary and weren’t but were still holding their own. The intense smell of urine changed to something more like boozy smoke as the street he turned onto came into view. Now he was in an area of boxy concrete buildings. He found Draco and his whip on Mainer Three. The smoke hadn’t cleared but the atmosphere was lightened by neon. He wouldn’t say this was the premier street of the red-light district but it probably came close. The club he had been looking for even had a glass-like awning over the door and two bouncers in front. When he got closer he saw the bouncers were very tall women. He wasn’t sure of the species but he appreciated the tiny leather bikinis they wore over their statuesque, black tattooed forms. At the end of the street he found an underground parking lot that had openings onto each street it served. He paid a few extra credits to ensure his bike was vaulted properly yet still easy to access. In theory this was merely a fact-gathering adventure but look what had happened when he took that attitude on Xy-Three. On the humid street, he took his place at the end of the twelve-being line in front of Draco’s Whip. Immediately ahead of him was a black-vinyl suited, sloe-eyed woman with straight black hair down to her elbows, holding a leash attached to her musclebound male companion. Beyond her were three men in archaic tweed business suits. The leash-holder looked him over with a sneer, then said, “You aren’t a local master, so why the outfit?” He glanced down at himself. “I’m visiting from off planet.” His boots got a long look next. Was she checking out his legs or his blaster? “You’ll never get in with all that hardware.” “Part of my costume.” “Draco’s is a whipping club,” she said. “Not entirely exclusive but still, most people don’t happen upon it by accident. What’s a stranger doing here?” A whipping club? He’d heard whispers when he was a child but at the age of ten most of the sexual life of Aboolan adults had been hidden from him. The line moved
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closer to the door as the Amazons let in two women dressed in opalescent sacking and turned away a couple dressed in tight red leather. “I thought someone might like to play with an off-worlder.” “You won’t get in alone. You can play with us but only if you let me be in charge.” John narrowed his eyes, then glanced at the bouncers. This woman probably was his only way in. He changed tactics, forced a quaver into his voice. “I like getting whipped as much as the next guy.” “Uh-huh.” “Sure,” John said. “I switch. I love a good whipping. The feeling of the lash against my back, my legs, it just makes me hot all over.” Shit, if this wasn’t giving him a boner. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? He’d never let anyone touch him with a whip in his life. Well, since his school days here at least. They believed in corporal punishment on Aboo. The dominatrix stared at his crotch for a moment. She took her hand from her hip and ran a black-painted fingernail down the front of his leathers. “Hmmm. Maybe you are serious.” She tugged at the leash on her companion. “Slave? Would it please your mistress to have company tonight?” John swallowed. On one hand, yuck. On the other hand, it might get him into the club, which didn’t look that easy. The Amazons had just turned away two men in twenty-second-century Earth business suits. “Yes Mistress, you like company,” said the slave, running his long red tongue around his black-painted lips. John’s cock softened immediately. Okay, it was in the mood, oddly enough, for a good role-play but not so interested in slave company. Could be worse. “Follow me,” the dominatrix ordered as the three men in the tweed suits were ushered in. Apparently the woman and her slave were regulars because the Amazons let the three of them in as well though he had to surrender his weapons at the check station directly inside. Inside the club was quite dark, the music, low and heavy on the base, lending a subterranean, danger-lurking kind of feel to the proceedings. The dominatrix marched them past the bar, past the dance floor and toward the restrooms. What was she going to do, force them to take enemas together? But they kept going down a dank corridor which ended in a locked steel door. “Look,” John said. “I really wanted to see Mannie. Could I track the owner down first, then meet up with you later?” “Silence,” said the dominatrix. “I’m serious,” John said. “Do you know where the office is? Most bars and clubs I know, the owner stays around during business hours to keep an eye on things. Won’t take me long. The owner will want to hear what I have to say.”
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A slot on the door opened. “Mistress?” said a voice, though all he could see was a slitted pair of purple eyes. “Dungeon for three,” she said. John turned to walk away. “Mistress,” the slave squeaked. Her arm shot out around John’s. His hand went to the laser pistol at his waist. Which wasn’t there, of course. Neither was his thiris. The steel door opened and John allowed himself to be marched inside. The place was probably bugged to the gills and someone monitoring would have heard him ask for Mannie. If the owner was curious they’d send someone to fetch him. That was just how things worked. One of the dungeons didn’t even have a door. This one contained the three men in archaic suits. The room was set up like an old-fashioned schoolroom. He saw a table with a variety of rattan cane rods and birch floggers and an assortment of slippers too. The wall above held a selection of leather belts and fringes on hooks. In front of the desks was a birching pony. His balls tingled and his cock went to half-mast. Why were they exciting him? “I take it you’re an Aboo Nine native?” the dominatrix asked in an acid tone. “I’ve only ever seen natives get turned on by this room.” John frowned. He couldn’t afford to be recognized when he had a job to do. “No, I’m from Earth.” The dominatrix shrugged. “Never met anyone from there. Come.” John followed her down the dark corridor, hoping one of Mannie’s people would rescue him soon. He decided to make it clear he was from Earth. “Why do natives get turned on by that room?” “The education system here is based on the system in Victorian England on Earth. I guess they use a lot of corporal punishment. That’s why this club is so popular. It speaks to the main kink here.” On their right was another of the classrooms. This one held women in short pleated plaid skirts. Another woman dressed in the costume of an ancient Earth nun slapped a ruler against her palm. “No?” the dominatrix asked, seeing his disgusted expression. “Not a Catholic then.” “The way I was indoctrinated, the religion is the State,” John said. “I see.” They stopped at a closed door, set into a stone arch. “This is us.” She put her palm to the lock and it opened. Inside a rainbow light was glimmering in the room. Different parts of the spectrum blinked on and off. Around the room were half a dozen wire racks of various lengths with cuffs along the side. “For group sessions,” the dominatrix explained. “You have no idea what energy there is in this room when there’s a party but it’s just us tonight.” 38
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John turned in a circle, jerking his thumb in the up position. Why wasn’t anyone coming to get him? “Slave, cuff him into that one, then park yourself in the rack to the left.” The man’s eyes blazed with excitement. “Yes, Mistress.” “I don’t think so,” John growled. The dominatrix sashayed up next to him and put her mouth alongside his ear. “You gave yourself to me for the evening,” she said in a low voice. “Submit.” He opened his mouth to protest, then saw that she’d taken a long whip from the wall. His eyes followed her hand as it flashed in the air then came down on the floor with a cracking noise. His cock rose at the sound. He stood, mesmerized, as she cracked the whip again, his heart beating faster. He heard a buzzing noise in his ears and for a second caught a flash of a different woman, one in a formfitting mandarin-collared pantsuit, holding a cane like those he’d seen in the open dungeon. “Could you use a cane instead?” he asked. Her eyes narrowed and the whip cracked a third time. “It’s not for you to give me orders.” “No, Mistress,” John said, waiting to see if he’d get a flash of memory again. He’d always been a straight up kind of guy, sexually. Maybe it was time to experiment, Aboo-style. He could have been missing out all these years. After all, this was his cultural heritage. He continued to stare at the dominatrix’s hand curled around the handle of the whip until the slave led him to a rack and cuffed him at the ankles. “Take off your vest,” said the woman’s silky voice. Dumbly, John did so, his head still craned vainly in her direction. The slave encased his wrists in the cuffs then strapped him to the wire contraption at the waist. His arms and legs were both spread. The dominatrix came up along side him and fiddled with some controls. The rack tilted until only his boot tips touched the ground. She walked away for a moment. He heard her soothing the slave as she strapped him into his own rack. Then nothing except her heels clicking on the hard surface of the dungeon floor. “Did she leave?” he asked the slave. John couldn’t see the other man because of the row of controls on the wall between them but he could hear excited breathing. “Delicious waiting,” the other man breathed. “Anticipating. What does the mistress want tonight?” John strained for any sound of the returning dominatrix’s heels on the floor. But this time he heard a higher-pitched clicking as well. The dominatrix had returned with a friend but he was strapped in facing the wall, unable to see what was going on.
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Chapter Four Frustration
He smelled the second woman even before she spoke. She wore a citrus perfume, underlaid slightly with a hint of garlic, like that was what she’d been eating that day. The citrus added an awakening note to the dark, steamy atmosphere of the dungeon. It made him focus on her. “The mistress will care for your needs,” said the first dominatrix. “While I attend to my personal slave.” “I promised service to you,” John said, not liking the idea of bringing another woman into the mix. “Don’t you want to please me?” John leaned his forehead against the plastic headrest attached to the rack. “Yes, Mistress.” Where the hell were Mannie’s people? “I have a special treat for you tonight, slave,” said a husky voice behind him. The second mistress? Gods, her voice was dirty, the way it caressed the words she said with wicked intent. He felt her breath on his back. If this one fucked him later it might be worth letting her toy with him a little. “Very special,” she whispered, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “I don’t need special,” he managed to say despite his dry mouth. “Just the ordinary slave treatment is fine by me. I’m on a tight schedule.” She laughed. The sound caught at him on some deep level. He felt goose pimples breaking out on his arms. She blew again and he shuddered. “Relax,” she murmured, touching his trapezius muscles. “You’re very tight. Under a lot of stress at work? Have you been very bad?” “Always.” He heard a mechanical sound next to him and with difficulty tilted his head to see the apparatus the other man was being bent down on, so his head pointed to the floor and his ass became his highest point. His cock tingled at the sight of the mistress holding a wooden paddle in the air. “Let’s relax you,” said his mistress. John jerked as hands came down on his shoulders. They were coated with an unguent that went on cool but within a few moments started to heat his shoulders. He had a bad feeling about this.
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A hissing noise then a slap resounded in the dungeon as the first mistress’s paddle made contact. The slave gasped and asked for more. Why wasn’t he getting the same treatment? Was he just supposed to watch? By the time the paddle had struck for the fifth time his shoulders were on fire and he was finding it hard to focus on anything else. But then a walnut-colored female hand appeared in his line of vision, then another, holding a golden cane. One end was bent into a hook and she took the other end and pulled it toward her until the cane nearly formed a circle. He’d seen canes just like it in the first dungeon. Still, he felt as if he’d seen them before. Had he been to places like this when he was in the military? “Ready for the line of fire?” His body thrilled at the words, each bit out like she was angry with him. He tried to turn his head toward her voice but he couldn’t see any more of her than the smooth, lightly muscled arms. “You’ve been a bad boy,” she murmured. “A five-bar gate for you today, I think.” What was that? “Why do you think I’ve been bad?” he countered, feeling an echo in his head, like déjà vu. Wasn’t a five-bar gate the punishment received by really delinquent senior boys? She must be fairly tall, because her mouth was tickling his ear now. “I know you’ve been bad, hunter.” Before he could say anything more, he heard an ominous hissing noise in the air then the cane struck across his burning shoulders. A moan rent the air in counterpoint to the other man. It came from his own lips as the second strike dug the burning unguent deeper into his skin. There was pleasure and pain and confusion. Only one thought was clear. She’d called him hunter. She knew who he was. Shit. What was wrong with him? His head was buzzing like he’d downed a half-dozen Devil’s Pit rum teas. If he didn’t get out of here, someone might come for him. And yet, she’d called him hunter, not Alexander. She might know he was a bounty hunter but not the presumed-dead heir to Aboo Nine. “Another rain of fire?” the mistress asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said automatically, not sure of the script anymore. This time the cane slapped his ass, stinging along his leather-clad backside. He lost track of the strokes, he lost track of himself. The sound of cuffs opening had him staring dazed at the man next to him. The dominatrix had tilted the cage holding the other man yet again, so he hung upside down, his face free to lick her pussy as she sat, legs spread wide and propped up on the bottom of the cage. Her skirt was pulled up to her waist and he could see she had a tribal tattoo of some kind at the top of her outer left thigh. Was that what he was going to be doing next? “I want to see you, Mistress,” he said, gasping out the words from a tortured throat. A beaker of water was put to his lips. “Drink, slave.”
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He refused, remembering what had happened the last time he drank from a stranger’s glass. “No, thank you.” “You’re going to be very thirsty when you wake up,” she warned. “Wake up?” “Yes, hunter. And when you wake up you aren’t going to remember any of this.” “I didn’t drink,” he protested. He heard a sexy female chuckle but then the mistress next to him began to scream her pleasure and writhe against her slave’s mouth. Her chair slapped at the floor as she tilted and rocked it, riding out her orgasm. John’s cock was pulsing but his shoulders were on fire. “The unguent,” he said. “You put a drug in that.” “Absorbed through the skin,” she agreed. “Hope you don’t get robbed while you’re unconscious.” So she was going to let him go? She didn’t care who he was? “Are you a friend of Gaia?” he asked, fading fast. His throat felt like it had been shredded by sandpaper. “Gaia doesn’t exist anymore.” “Is she dead?” “What she was doing wasn’t living.” John tried to lift his head but he only had it up a centimeter or two and had to drop it back against the forehead rest. It spun, dizzily and despite the eager sounds of fucking next to him his cock was starting to droop. Sex clubs were supposed to be more fun than this. “Go to sleep, hunter. Don’t fight it.” He didn’t want to fight the command, knowing somehow that he was safe enough. He slept.
***** What had he been drinking last night? Despite being facedown on the ground, the filmy light around him made it clear he was in a domed city but where? He wasn’t in the alley of The Witch’s Tit near the Web. The scent of mystery meat was heavy in the air and they only served fake meat products made from soy. Putting one hand to the filthy concrete ground, he pushed himself onto his back. Pain arced through him and he bowed up so his vest-covered back wouldn’t touch the ground. But now his ass was on fire too, along with his ground-scratched face. He rolled onto his side. The pain reduced immediately but his head was pounding and his mouth felt like he’d been swallowing feathers all night. This time, he moved from a fetal position to his knees and stared up through gritty eyes. A crack in the dome. This was Nine. He was on Aboo Nine. Hell, had the junta found him?
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An image of a bent rattan cane flashed into his brain and was gone again. What was that about? He pulled himself to his feet and staggered out of the alley. The expensive leather pants he wore were abraded along the side. His weapons were missing. He never went anywhere without weapons. His bike, where had it gone? Hadn’t he ridden it somewhere? He blinked and wiped crud and soot from his eyes until he could see more than a few centimeters in front of his nose. At the mouth of the alley was a multilane street. He stepped onto the sidewalk and walked forward until he could see the front of the building he’d woken up behind. He groaned when he saw what it was. A Red Reaper. No wonder he’d been unconscious in an alley. Everyone knew their food was deadlier than poison. Could he possibly have been dumb enough to eat there? A shady-looking couple of indeterminate species walked out the glass doors of the restaurant looking pale, underlining John’s thought. Only species with the toughest of stomachs and the strongest of digestive acids could tolerate the restaurant chain, which failed the health guidelines of any planet that had them, yet remained in business. That rang a bell in the back of his brain though. Illegal behavior? Poison? Had he been poisoned by more than the food of the notorious intergalactic restaurant chain with their mystery burgers and offal-based soups? Oh gods. Had he fallen for the tricks of another of Gaia Marlowe’s friends? He clearly remembered his Xy-Three experience. His cock tingled at the memory. At least he didn’t feel sticky under his trousers this time. He started wandering. There was a spigot behind some kind of educational facility and he was able to get fluids into his system and clean his face and hands. That allowed him to think a little more clearly. His ship had to be somewhere so he needed to head toward the spaceport. He’d already had to give up the idea of contacting his droid because his comm-unit had vanished along with the rest of his equipment, except his tranq-ring, which no one ever noticed. Leaving the alley where he’d found the spigot, he turned in a circle at a street corner, trying to orient himself. He knew the space port was at the south end of Nine, but the problem with domed cities was you couldn’t use the sky to orient yourself effectively. He wandered some more, looking too disreputable to attract help from any passersby. On one nondescript street he stopped dead, turned back. The house that had attracted his attention was nothing out of the ordinary. The walls were concrete block, the front door was steel. There weren’t any windows in the front and a sagging chainlink fence surrounded the narrow property. None of this was entirely out of the ordinary in such a lawless party city. In fact, the only thing he could see that looked rather unusual was the roof, made from red tiles that mimicked in some synthetic fashion an old Earth style. Also, in a crowded city, the house looked deserted.
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Had he been there before? He searched his brain for a connection to the house as he walked toward the corner to figure out where he was. Houses here didn’t have obvious addresses, he remembered. The red-tile roof house four houses north of the corner of Blue and Port was the best you could do. He stopped dead. Blue and Port. That was the house. The safe house, the one that hadn’t been safe, where they’d gone that last night. It had been so many years, he’d nearly forgotten. Quickly, he moved away. If criminals returned to the scene of their crimes, victims probably did the same and it always possible that the junta had extra scanners around the property. Fast. He needed to get somewhere out of sight fast. His last trip to Nine had been an informative visit with a mistress of Rags Bueller. He had paid her for information so she didn’t hate him and she was probably still working here. What was the name of the strip joint she danced at? He couldn’t remember but knew it was on Colony Street. John oriented himself toward Colony Street and set off east, setting aside the location of the spaceport for the moment. He was reasonably sure you could see the second dome from that part of town anyway. The strip joint Belles was right where he remembered it. No bouncers here. Where had that thought come from? Had he been around bouncers last night? The club was fairly dark and quite deserted, except a row of off-duty miners scattered at the bar stools around the sinuous stage. Purple and red spotlights danced around the poles where three dancers writhed. Fiona was a featured dancer here at the club and fanatical about her routines. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was but if she wasn’t sleeping she was probably here at rehearsal. There would be consequences if he tried to get through to the dancer’s dressing room, judging from the beefy guy standing guard over a side door, so he decided to wait until he had a waitress’s attention. The seat he’d chosen was closest to a dancer of a species he didn’t recognize. She had long, curvy legs, so long in fact that from this evidence alone you would know she wasn’t of human origin, even before you noticed her three pert breasts. Her nipples were pierced and sheathed by golden circlets. Chains attached to each sheath and dangled underneath. Each had golden teardrops attached, though he couldn’t hear them clinking under the loud synthetic music. In a private dance room, though, the tinkling noise would be quite erotic. His mouth went dry as his cock rose. He blinked, trying to break the spell. Robbery. No credits. No weapons. Think! Damn though, she was beautiful. He wouldn’t mind interrogating her. The dancer winked at him and shimmied her breasts in his direction. He raised his eyebrows and made an exaggerated sighing expression. When he didn’t reach for his wallet and hold up paper credits she soon moved away.
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He felt a hard tap at his shoulder. Expecting the waitress, he turned to see Fiona instead. Rag’s former mistress wasn’t beautiful exactly. The planes of her face were far too harsh but she was exotically handsome and had a regal carriage, probably because of the years dancing in tall headdresses. She always wore something that started as a crown but was covered in feathers and beads and who knew what else. He had never paid attention precisely because what he liked best was down below. Fiona had lovely breasts too, though there were only two of them. “Hey Fee,” he said. “What are you doing here?” she gasped. “I thought we were finished.” “Once you’re in a bounty hunter’s datebook you can’t escape,” he quipped. She stared at him more closely. “You look like crap.” “I spent a night in an alley.” “What happened? One of your bounties get away?” “Don’t know. My memory was wiped.” She couldn’t quite hold back her smirk. “Good for them. Why do you think I’m going to help you?” He grabbed her hands and held them to his heart. “Because deep down inside, I know you’re a good woman. And, you may remember, I didn’t rat you out to Rags when you told me where he was.” “If I do you a favor we’re even,” she warned. “You want this to be your favor?” He shrugged. “I don’t do a lot of long-term thinking.” She snorted. “I can believe that.” She tugged her hands away. “Come on then.” He got up and followed her to the side door. She waved at the big bouncer and blew him a kiss. John was surprised to see the man simper like a twelve-year-old girl and open the door for her. He followed her in. Fiona had her own small dressing room. The large toothy picture of Rags was gone, he noticed, replaced by a vase full of fake red roses in full bloom. “Sit,” she commanded. “No new boyfriend?” he asked. “Why, you auditioning?” She put her hand on her hip. “I’m not worth your time. Only good for one thing.” “And that is?” “Sack time. I’m still in demand for that.” She looked him over. “I can see why. You’re tight and with that silly tattoo gone even your face looks good.” “Thanks.”
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A look of vulnerability shadowed her eyes. “You know, it’s been a while for me. It’s been lonely.” Things hadn’t been so lonely for him, what with getting drugged and ridden on XyThree. But his balls were feeling awfully blue. He sat down on her fluffy daybed and patted the spot next to him. With a sniff as if she was holding back tears, she sat next to him. He admired the roundness of her thighs as her minidress scooted up. “Dancers have the best bodies,” he muttered, running his hand from her knee to the edge of her skirt. What was he doing? Did he have time for this? Who cared? He was busy right now. When she didn’t protest, he tilted his hand so it went between her thighs and under her skirt. She spread her legs a couple of centimeters and suddenly he met dampness, unfettered by cloth. “Don’t think that’s for you,” she said. “It’s hot out there and I’m dewing a little.” “Uh-huh.” He gave her his best cocksure grin and pulled her legs. She lost her balance and fell back against the bed, legs sprawled around him. Her skirt had ridden up far enough for him to see her pussy, hairless except one small square of blonde fluff. John bent and kissed her there, then nibbled along the hairless expanse of her pussy. When she moaned for the first time, a gently pleading sound, he played with her lips until he felt the first juices of passion melt from her pussy. Kissing her mons, he inserted two fingers and pushed in. Her hips came up off the bed. “Damn it, John,” she groaned. “I wasn’t ready for that.” He circled her clit with his thumb. As she writhed he grinned again. “Liar.” She ignored him, wriggling against his still thumb. “More.” Knowing she was more than ready now, he ignored her command and undid the tapes on his pants. “Hold on,” she commanded. He frowned as she grasped him with her legs and rolled her torso off the bed, reaching for something underneath. “Can I help?” he asked. He heard her fingernails make contact with something metal. “No, I’ve got it.” She held up a small bottle. “Spray it on, please.” He took the bottle. Fiona was a smart girl. It was a disinfectant spermicide that would kill any bacteria on his rod as well as annihilate his guys as they exited. He shrugged. Why not? It stung a little but would hardly shrivel his erection. He put his finger on the nozzle and sprayed. “Shit!” His eyes began to water. “It’s super strong,” she said. “Sorry.” 46
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“Sorry, my ass,” he muttered. “Are you trying to tell me something?” She smiled. “Only to hurry up and fuck me. I want that big cock of yours.” He just hoped the sting wouldn’t inhibit him from coming, though he did recognize the brand and had used it before. He’d forgotten how it felt going on. She wriggled her hips closer to him so he grabbed her and tugged her up over his lap, then spread her pussy lips with one hand and reached for his cock. “Don’t touch it,” she said. “You’ll wipe off the product. Here.” She folded herself up with her dancer’s impressive abs and blew on his cock. He closed his eyes with the sheer pleasure of it. Damn, why did that feel so good? Her hands pulled gently at the bottom of his shaft to tilt him up so she could blow-dry the underside too. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “All good now. Come and put that lovely big boy inside me.” He didn’t have to be asked twice. She reached her arms around him as he positioned his cock at her lips again. There was a loud knock at the door. And her hands felt like hot irons against his lower back as she reached around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped, pushing up to his knees, his cock ramrod straight in front of him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, then raised her voice. “Go away!” The knock came again. “My back,” he gasped. “You must have gotten some of that spray on your hands. It burns.” She grabbed his leg and turned him, lifting his vest. “You’ve got welts on your back.” The door opened and a bald man leaned in. “Joiye called in sick. Could you take her shift? Starts in five.” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” she snarled. “Answer and I’ll go.” “Fine! I’ll do it.” He raised an eyebrow at John and shut the door. “Looks like you were whipped by an expert,” Fiona said. “That’s some precision work on your back. Five exactly matching slashes.” “Whatever. C’mon.” John tried to push her back down to the bed. “We only have five minutes. I’ll try to be quick.” “Not so fast. I need to get my costume on.” “They know I’m here,” John pleaded. “They’ll understand if you’re a tiny bit late.” “The customers won’t. Sorry.”
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She lifted her long, shapely leg over his head and sat up, free of him, then went to her makeup mirror, already opening a jar of some product she took from the edge of her dressing table. He looked at his cock. “So you’re done, just like that?” “Duty calls.” He’d like to pat his cock, soothe it but was afraid to touch it with the product on it. “I thought you wanted to fuck.” “I can buy twenty vibrators with what I’ll get paid in overtime alone,” she said. “We’re done for now.” He got up and stood over her, checking the table for some kind of cleaning agent. “Aren’t you going to help me?” “I think you were at Draco’s,” she said, looking at him in the mirror. “I’ve seen that whipping pattern before and there’s definitely a drug culture there too. Maybe you offended one of the mistresses and she retaliated with wiping your mind of the fun you had.” “That doesn’t sound like me,” he said, grinning at her in the mirror as she handed him a bottle of liquid soap and a towel. “I always do what I’m told.” “Get cleaned up, Doe. You can’t be back here while I’m on stage.” “You clean me up.” She rolled her eyes and dispensed frothy soap into the towel, then grabbed his cock with her hand holding the towel. “Gently!” he yelped. “I’m in a hurry.” “So am I, probably. I just don’t remember. Where is Draco’s?” “It’s on Mainer Three. You can’t miss it even if you can’t remember it from the night before.” She finished her less-than-gentle scrubbing and tossed the towel into a basket under the dressing table. “Get dressed.” Slowly, he pulled his pants back up over his aching cock. Damn, he’d sprayed that crap on it for nothing. He smoothed the front tapes together to fasten them. “Ha ha.” He tilted in front of her mirror as he tried to get a look at the welts on his back, getting in the way of her false eyelash application. “At least we know your cock is working,” she said around a mouthful of pins as she put up her hair. “I’m surprised you like getting whipped though. Usually only native Niners are into that crap.” At least Fee didn’t know who he really was. “I’m on a case. I was probably there for a reason.” He couldn’t quite see the edges of the welts but suspected he had more on his ass. Probably Al-BD27 would know how to make them go away when he got back to the ship. “Sure, John. You got whipped for work. Such sacrifices.”
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“Today wasn’t any better.” “I’m sorry, you know. I’d rather have finished what we started.” He met her eyes in the mirror. “No you wouldn’t, not really. No wonder you prefer having boyfriends who are on the run. They’re never around. Until next time.” “Stay around,” she said. “I’ve got eight hours of dancing ahead of me now but if you rub me down afterward, I’ll be good to go. I’ll even suck you off.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’d better get going. I do have a case.” “Sure, John. Next time.” “Yeah.” She’d said it a thousand times before, he could tell. Time to get back to work.
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Chapter Five Bad boy
“He’s back,” Nance panted. The middle-aged, schoolmarmish mistress was out of breath from running to the public dungeon. Gaia was cleaning up. Since she hadn’t been here long enough to rebuild her clientele she had to take on extra tasks in order to earn enough to pay her portion of the dungeon rent. “Who is back?” asked Gaia. She was trying to scrub out a semen stain on the floor under a birching table in an alcove in the prison-style dungeon. They had improved on the traditional model by not only cutting holes for the arms but for the penis too. That meant one mistress could birch while someone else could be sucking the slave off, preferably another slave who needed his or her boundaries pushed. Many people who came to the club weren’t in the D/s lifestyle of course, including some who worked there. Like herself. Flogging was part of the punishment system on Aboo Nine so it had become part of the erotic code too. You didn’t have to be a submissive to understand how the sting brought the blood flow to the genital region, how squirming against whatever surface you were being spanked on also stimulated the clit and cock. Gaia knew she was good at the flogging, even if she wasn’t dominant or mistresslike in her real life. Her aunt, who owned the place, had insisted Gaia take the job, since she wouldn’t be able to get work anywhere else. “The hunter. The one you treated with dimentichisi per sempre last night.” Gaia dropped her brush into her bucket. “He thinks he’s here for the first time, right?” “He looks irritated and he’s asking for Mannie.” “Same as last night then.” She rubbed her hands dry against her canvas shorts. “So what do we do this time? If we don’t get rid of him for once and for all, you’re going to have to run again. Where else do you have to go?” Gaia held up her hands. “There isn’t any place familiar. I only know Nine and Marlowe 1.” “Do you have any credits?” “Just what I got from selling Toric’s drug collection around here. There wasn’t much left from the last stash Babel sold him before he OD’d. I only kept the dimenti as backup in case someone came looking for me.” Gaia straightened her sleeveless shirt and pushed back the wisps of hair that had fallen out of her braid. She needed to do a full beauty routine before the night began but she was so tired from all the changes in her life and all she wanted to do was sleep.
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“And now they have.” She examined her bitten fingernails with disgust. “I should have guessed the family would try to blame Toric’s death on me.” “You’ve got terrible taste in men, sweetie.” “Lon wasn’t such a bad guy when I married him. We did okay at the beginning. And Toric protected me from the police who wanted to arrest me for Lon’s murder. At the time it seemed like a great bargain.” “It wasn’t,” Nance said flatly. “But I understand. Now, what are we going to do? Mannie is still off-world.” “It would be nice to know exactly who this guy is, where his loyalties lie. Did the Marlowes hire him? Aedre’s message was so cryptic.” “He was pretty impressive looking.” Gaia scoffed. Hot or not, the hunter’s leanly muscled appearance wasn’t an important factor. “I know he’s attractive but I can’t risk having him around here.” “Yeah but he’s persistent. Maybe you could seduce him to your way of thinking.” Gaia scrubbed her hands over her face. She couldn’t risk falling for the sexy bounty hunter herself. His energy electrified her and that was nerve-racking. Her taste in men had always led her astray in the past. “I honestly don’t know what to do.” Nance shrugged. “Could you pretend to be Mannie and send him off on a wild goose chase? You’re her niece after all, you kind of look like her.” “If the Marlowes sent him, he’ll know what I look like. That’s why I never let him see me last night.” “Mistress,” said a voice from the doorway. “Mr. Doe here says he’s been a bad boy and needs some punishment.” Gaia looked up and nearly swore aloud. The hunter was on his knees next to Abgayle, Draco’s youngest and least intelligent employee, another niece of Mannie’s but from the other side of her family. Had he seen her face? “We aren’t open,” she said, her heart pounding. “Tell the gentlemen to return at ten o’clock tonight for his punishment.” “I have to go off-world,” the hunter said, lifting one knee so his boot-clad foot rested on the ground. “I need my punishment now. I’ll pay double.” What game was he playing? Nance said he’d been in asking for Mannie. And now he was down here asking for punishment? “Keep your head down,” Nance ordered, with a frantic glance at Gaia. She stepped quickly over to the man and tugged up his vest, then clucked her tongue. “What’s wrong?” asked Mannie’s stupid niece. “This gentleman was punished recently. We have a seventy-two-hour waiting policy on punishment. You’ll have to come back next time you are in Nine,” Nance told him.
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Thank the gods for Nance’s quick thinking. Maybe she could escape this time. But then what? “I need a paddling,” he said. “Not a whipping. It won’t even leave a mark but I need it.” “Why?” Nance asked. The hunter swayed on his knees and his voice lowered. “I saw the paddle collection over the bar when I came in and I just knew I did. I need to purify my thoughts.” Purify my thoughts? That was very close to the phrase the teachers of Nine used in the upscale schools when they punished recalcitrant students. Gaia knew because she’d been one of those students, albeit a scholarship one, before the coup. Was this hunter from Nine as well? She wished she could risk a look at his face. She’d only seen a rear view last night and with and today’s downcast expression she still might not be able to recognize him on the street. All she could see now was an impressive set of arms and shoulders and his short-cropped sandy brown hair. His clothing was expensive but probably purchased for function and she’d been dismayed last night by his impressive set of weapons which were now locked up in Mannie’s office. “Why do you need to purify yourself?” she asked with a catch in her throat. Nance gave her a warning look and Gaia nodded. She needed to be very careful. What if he had the equipment for a voiceprint on him? The hunter was silent for a moment. She could sense when the light went on in his brain. “I lost my company’s tools. I need punishment.” Hopefully he hadn’t obtained any new tools during the past few hours either. It didn’t seem likely since he still wore the same clothes. But then how had he ended up back here? Perhaps the drug hadn’t wiped his mind back far enough. “Perhaps you should leave that to your company. They deserve the pleasure of punishing you,” Nance suggested. He shook his head. “It’s important to be punished here.” Did he know he’d surrendered his weapons here? Gaia knew it wasn’t possible. The drug was effective on everyone but he was trembling, just like a true slave waiting for his punishment. She couldn’t figure him out. Maybe she should simply return his weapons but then he’d know for certain that he’d been there before. “Did the gentleman show you his membership card?” she asked Abgayle. “He paid in credits at the door,” she said. “You’ll need to buy a membership,” she said. At least that would give them his name and they could figure out what he was. “Then we’ll give you the punishment you deserve.” They hadn’t taken anything from him last night except the weapons he’d surrendered at the door, a mistake. He’d come in with a mistress. “Yes, Mistress.” “Head down,” Nance ordered, as the man started to raise it. 52
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“Abgayle, take him to the membership lounge and process his application. Then take him to Punishment room C and secure him to the bench. After that, bring his application directly to me in the office.” Gaia stepped back into the shadowy alcove with the birching table as the girl led the hunter out, just in case he raised his eyes. “I’ll do the punishment,” Nance said briskly, “while you check him out.” “No, I will,” Gaia said. “Don’t worry.” “Gaia—I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood but you take too many risks with yourself. You always have.” Gaia shook her head. “There’s something about him. I need to know.” “Every time I hear that, you end up married to the guy. This one only wants you for a pelt on his wall.” “We don’t know that for sure. He never said my name. We never asked why he wanted to see Mannie.” “Why else would a hunter of that caliber be here? You know he’s the one your friend Aedre warned you about in her secret communiqué.” “I know. But I need to hear it from the hunter’s own lips.” Too bad she was clean out of Toric’s supply of pocoJib potions. While their drugs all had negative effects and illicit effects, they all had some medicinal property as well. The one last night had not only wiped his memory but increased his healing abilities and his sexual stamina. It also decreased his inhibition slightly, a great improvement over an alcoholic feast of blackout proportions. She had thought she was helping Toric and his group of friends when she introduced them to the high-grade pocoJib arsenal and replaced the various drugs and drinks they’d been taking. They weren’t about to stop taking drugs in some form. PocoJib potions weren’t supposed to be addictive but she’d underestimated the behavior of the decadent Marlowe 1 upper class. Or that the ruling family would sink so low as to form a secret trade agreement with the pocoJibs and become intergalactic drug dealers, headed by Babel Marlowe. Funny to think that the intelligent, moral governing class had been wiped out on Aboo Nine but people like the Marlowes continued to thrive on Xy-Three. The Hofmanns and their cronies had been a poor match for a fairly large, lawless mining and party planet with an oversized and power hungry militia force. The Amalgamation had preferred to keep Aboo Nine lawless so they could relax here. She went to Mannie’s office by way of the rear staircase up from the dungeons and waited for Abgayle. But it was Nance who brought the reader with the application on it. “He’s with Vonner,” she said, looking very pale. “Those bastard Marlowes put Bounty Hunters, Inc. on your trail.” Gaia looked down at the reader. Name: John Doe. Employment: Bounty Hunters, Inc. Reference: Ulric Vonner. “He doesn’t try to hide much, does he.” “Maybe he’s still under the influence of the dimenti from last night.”
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Gaia nodded. “You’re probably right. That makes sense. The lowered inhibition.” “And he’s after you for sure,” Nance prompted. “Who else is going to put a highend hunter like that after someone?” “I’m sure you’re right.” She stood up, smiled at her aunt’s longtime employee and friend. “It’s time for me to give him the punishment he deserves.” “You’re certain?” “Yes.” Nance spoke with resignation. “I’ll put a mask on him. You’d better get changed. You can’t get into a proper mood in shorts and a little shirt.” Gaia looked down at her dirty water-spattered self. “If you insist. But Punishment Room C isn’t available for public viewing.” “I know. But I’ll be watching you from the security cam, just in case.” “Thanks. See you after.”
***** The skinny but surprisingly strong girl who’d led him to this daylit little room had made short work of tying his hands between the supports on the birching pony. She also bound him around the mid-back to the synthwood with more rope before pushing his trousers down to his ankles. “Traditionally someone would have held your ankles but you didn’t ask for the premium service so I’m going to use these ropes to tie down your calves,” she said. John didn’t say anything, just tried to relax his body against the cool pony. It was hard to get comfortable with his cock pressing against it, though the coolness did feel nice against his face. He could almost fall asleep here despite the ropes. Jobs had a way of making your behavior gradually more eccentric. You could go days, weeks, with nothing much more than adrenaline feeding you. The only sleep he’d had recently was drugged. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. And now, as a result, he was looking forward to a paddling like some recalcitrant schoolboy. But he wasn’t an Aboolan schoolboy now, he was a bounty hunter on contract. He was here to find out about Gaia Marlowe, he reminded himself. Or at least to figure out what had happened to him last night. When asking for Mannie hadn’t gotten him anywhere, he’d noticed a woman walking by in the pantsuit of an Aboolan schoolteacher and come up with the half-forgotten phrase of a naughty schoolboy. I need to purify my thoughts. That had been enough to get him in here. The door creaked open. He was facing away from it so was blind to the rear half of the room no matter how far he tried to turn. Warm, slightly scratchy hands touched his cheeks as a hood was pulled down over his head, leaving only his nose and mouth open to the air. He smelled cleaning solution. “Why?” he asked. “This isn’t standard procedure.”
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“Sensory deprivation.” Her voice was older than the girl’s, seasoned, upset. “I don’t need to be disoriented to be punished.” Shit. What had he gotten himself into? Were they going to drug him again, if that was really what had happened last night? “It helps get you into the mood.” He heard rustling noises. “Maybe my idea of the mood I need to be in is different from yours.” He heard a sigh. “The mistress will be with you in a moment.” “The same one from last night?” he asked, following a hunch. He now heard a sharply indrawn breath. “Does it matter?” “No,” he said casually, wondering if he’d given himself away. Of course he could only guess at what had happened last night. He needed to find Gaia Marlowe. Surely she wasn’t here, at a place so easy to find when she was on the run for her life? Surely she knew the Marlowes wanted her dead. Didn’t she? Through his exhaustion John felt a slight bubble of concern pop up. Toric Marlowe was almost freshly dead. Maybe she didn’t know how her relationship with her in-laws had deteriorated since the funeral eight days before. Maybe she’d left Xy-Three on vacation or something before the Marlowes decided to blame her for her husband’s death. But her friend Aedre would have warned her, if nothing else. Gaia knew. To hide here would be very stupid indeed, unless she had no friends, no money, no choices. If she were here, she would try to fight back. He hadn’t come in with a plan at all and now he was tied up, helpless. Damn it if that didn’t make his cock even harder. The blood pooled into his groin, shutting down his higher brain to some degree. The synthwood felt warm against his cheek now, nice. Maybe he could ignore his raging erection and take a nap. “What’s your name?” The acid female voice came from the doorway and slithered up his spine, making his neck muscles tense. So much for that nap. “I’ve been bad.” He flinched as the sound of a crop rent the air. “That’s not what I asked.” His throat was suddenly dry, making it hard to force the word out. “Sorry. John.” “I haven’t met a John before. It’s not a common name.” “No?” “You from around here, John?” “No. I’m from Earth.” “I see.” A wicked edge entered her voice. He was certain she was familiar to him. But from where? “I asked for a paddling,” he said, hoping she wasn’t going to use that crop on him. “You’re making demands on me?”
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“Yes, ummm, Ma’am.” “That’s ‘Mistress’.” “Yes, Mistress.” “You’ve been bad,” she continued harshly. “You said you needed to purify your thoughts.” “Yes, I did say that.” “Where have you heard that phrase before?” Had he given himself away by using the phrase? Shit, he was supposed to be from Earth. She was behind him now. He shivered as he felt the edge of her crop trail gently down his back. “I’ve never heard it except from an Aboolan native. We do a lot of purification here at Draco’s.” “Worked here long?” he asked, changing the subject. He heard a crack on the wood, next to his right ear. His body tried to jerk away but was held fast. “I ask the questions. What’s a bounty hunter doing here?” Shit. “I’m looking for information. I was told to use the phrase.” “By whom?” His head was pounding now as dehydration and exhaustion took its toll. “A source.” She pulled his head up by grasping through the hood to the roots of his hair, dug a long-nailed finger underneath. “You’re crying.” He gritted his teeth. No, he wasn’t. “You’ve got me by the short ones. One set of them at least.” She dropped his head back to the synthwood. He felt his cheek clunk against the hard surface and wondered if he’d bruise. “Do you like pain, John? You must get hurt a lot in your business.” “I can take it.” “Yes, I can see you’re strong,” she murmured. “How did you get those muscles?” He shook his head. “I’m not here to be interrogated. Name, rank and serial number. That’s all you need.” “That’s an old phrase.” He smiled against the synthwood. “I said I was from Earth.” “I don’t believe you but it doesn’t matter to me, does it.” “It matters to me,” he muttered. “What?” “Never mind.” “I’ll give you the paddling you so richly deserve, John, under one condition.” 56
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With a sinking feeling, he knew what that promise was going to be. He was striking out again when he needed to get Gaia’s location. “Now, John,” the dominatrix said silkily into his ear. “Don’t tell me you’d refuse your mistress a promise.” “You aren’t my mistress,” he said. “I told you, I’m not into that shit. I just wanted to purify myself.” “Schoolmistress, then,” she murmured. John remembered a scene from his childhood. He was bent over someone’s lap. They wore green trousers in some scratchy fabric. He felt it, a paddle on his behind. You must be purified, he heard. Who was saying it? One of his teachers. “Yes, schoolmistress,” he said. “Tell me more.” “You must be purified,” said the voice in his ear. “Yes, Mistress,” he said. He heard a further echo in his head and said, “Thank you, Mistress.” “Now, you’re going to make me that promise, John.” He shook his head. This was so strange. Normally he blocked his childhood, his memories but here they came flooding back. “That’s not a promise.” She spoke louder. “Mistress?” He felt an overwhelming sorrow, knowing he must leave but not wanting to. The contract was the important thing. “You’re going to leave Nine, this planet, this system and never came back.” The slight shake in her voice began to pull him from his mental space but he fought it hard. So close. “No.” “You must promise.” His eyes hurt. Once, he had fought to stay here, staring at the pools of blood surrounding his brother and mother. Now he fought to stay away, to keep the eyes of the junta, the Amalgamation away from those who silently fought to overthrow them. “You have to leave,” she intoned. “Forever.” Light flashed behind John’s eyes. He gasped. “No. I control my own destiny.” “You must.” “No.” “Then you won’t receive your punishment,” said a voice, now soft, concerned. “To hell with your punishment.” He heard scraping sounds as he moved his arms and felt the bonds holding him release. Buried under an emotional avalanche, he didn’t think to hold himself up and collapsed against the birching pony. He bounced his head hard as he fell sideways, then felt the cold floor underneath him. His head hit last, hard again and everything went black.
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When he returned to consciousness, the first thing he felt was hair brushing his cheek, irritating the sore skin there. He reached up, pushing it out of his face, then passed out again.
***** “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gaia muttered to herself, pacing Mannie’s office floor. The noise of the thorn-heeled thigh-high stiletto boots irritated her now, so she undid the tapes and kicked them off. That’s not what John Doe wanted, anyhow. He really had wanted school-style purification. Clearly, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d spent some time in the school systems of Aboo. To the best of her knowledge they were unique in their approach to molding of the young and corporal punishment. She should have been dressed in the schoolmistress uniform of twenty years before, the green mandarin-collared, slim-fitting suit of temperature-adjusting fabric. Maybe she’d have been able to make him tell her who he really was. If he hadn’t been trying to find her, punish her for a death she hadn’t caused, she’d almost feel sorry for the guy. In breaking his bonds during his argument with her he’d really gotten hurt. But she hadn’t been able to extract a promise from him, so what was she going to do now? Vonner’s men were good, tenacious. She’d known the Marlowes to hire them before. A girlfriend of Babel’s had run from him once and a BHI hunter had brought her back like she was a runaway slave. Gaia was now locked in a battle with this man, a man with the best-looking cock she’d ever seen. As he’d fallen, she’d seen it in profile. Ramrod straight, lusciously golden except a reddish-hued tip and at least four centimeters longer than the average cock, two centimeters thicker. It would be such a nice change, to have something like that inside her rather than her late husband’s short, stubby thing that rarely worked anyway. Maybe good sex would extract a promise from John Doe? She’d be willing, especially in one of Draco’s luxury rooms on the top floor with their high-end toy collections. No, that was stupid. She couldn’t risk any further involvement with the man, even if her pussy was wet and open and wanting what he had between his legs. Wanting him inside her. She’d had Nance and Abgayle carry the Earthman-who-was-really-Aboolan to a couch near the bar on the main floor. That way, if he was so inclined, he could get up and stumble right out the door. She’d even had them pile his weapons on the floor next to him, discharged of course, so he couldn’t use them in the club. They’d all need servicing to work again. But perhaps he’d be so confused he’d leave. For a while at least, until she could figure out what to do next. She needed time to think.
*****
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John blinked as music suddenly filled the air around him. The light was dim. He stretched out his hand and felt the butt end of a laser pistol. Grasping it, he held it up to his eye and squinted. It was his, he recognized the scratch above the trigger but it was dead, no charge. Leaning over, he saw a small cache of his weapons on the floor. Where was he? He swung his feet off the red velvet sofa where he had been supine and pulled his weapons into his lap. He didn’t remember arming himself but he was fully dressed, sort of. Usually he wore a shirt underneath this vest, to prevent chafing. He tilted his head and saw a bar. A bartender held up an amber bottle, raised an eyebrow. John shook his head, felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. What the hell had he been drinking? He stumbled to his feet and hunched-shuffled his way to the bar. “How long have I been there?” The bartender, a race he didn’t recognize with very reddish skin, said, “I couldn’t say. Just came on shift.” John ran his tongue around his teeth. Seriously fuzzy. He vaguely remembered waking up in an alley not too long ago. Maybe he’d done several bars. But why? Had he lost a bounty? He’d gotten Rags. Then Vonner assigned him Gaia Marlowe. It all came flooding back. He held the black metal pipe ringing the edge of the bar for support as he remembered the punishment room. The mistress must have had him deposited here. He considered tearing up the place, demanding answers but as always, making a scene in Nine might bring the junta down on his head. Not such a good idea to make a scene. “Where’s the spaceport?” he asked. The bartender gave him directions. The entire time it took him to belt on and strap on and insert his weapons into his clothing, no one else entered the room, though he felt unseen eyes on him. Creepy. But he’d be back, as soon as he had his thoughts together. Subtlety might not be one of his strengths but he needed to figure out how both to stay under the radar and track his quarry.
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Chapter Six Caught you
Al-BD27 clucked at John when he entered the hangar. The familiar stuttering sound was almost comforting as he realized he was home. This was as close as he got to one, at least. He bent down as Alpheus waddled up to him. Her coat felt warm and smooth under his fingers. “What happened?” the droid asked. “You didn’t come bac-c-ck last night and you didn’t answer your c-c-comm.” “I’m not sure.” This was becoming a trend. As he spoke he felt something tickling the corner of his mouth and lifted his hand from Alpheus to brush it away. A strand of hair, glossy and black. He blinked, remembering the dominatrix brushing his cheek after he fell. Squinting, he saw the hair was complete to the root. A break? Could the gods be offering him an actual break? “BD, can you analyze this?” He held up the hair. “Where did it c-c-come from?” “A suspicious character at Draco’s.” An attractive one too, he imagined, though dangerous too. “Doesn’t Gaia Marlowe have ties there?” “Yes.” “Do you think it is hers? That would speed up the processing.” “The hair color is common on Aboo,” John said after a pause. “She wouldn’t be that stupid, right?” “She is frightened, her husband is dead, her social position is gone. Maybe she would return.” I did. “Then maybe we’ll get lucky. At any rate, it wouldn’t surprise me if this one is wanted too. Might as well make a few credits.” BD didn’t move. “We have room for two prisoners. There’s the cell and the escape pod can be locked to the ship. It has room for one.” “This will not distrac-c-c-t you?” “No, I know what I’m doing, old buddy. The big money’s on Gaia Marlowe.” BD took the hair and folded it into a compartment in his chest. “I have the c-cchemicals needed to prepare it onboard. I will scan Aboolan DNA patterns first.
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Everyone here is registered at birth. Why don’t you rest and it will be ready when you are done?” John picked up Alpheus and cradled her to his chest. “I think I’ll use the sonic first. I smell worse than this hangar.” “Sometimes I’m glad my odor sense c-c-can be turned off,” BD said, looking at John. “Are you hurt? You are moving strangely.” “I fell,” John said. “Let me know when you’re done with the analysis.” Water was a precious commodity on the ship, as were all true natural resources. After he was cleaned by sonic waves in the shower-type booth, he went to the replicator and had it make him up new clothing to replace the damaged leathers. At least he’d be the only one to know his black pants and vest were now synthetic. That is, unless he let anyone get close enough to smell the chemical residue. And speaking of closeness, his cock was standing at attention again, as if it thought it would get some use merely by getting hard. “No chance,” he muttered. He tossed himself onto his bunk with Alpheus cuddled at his side, waking only at the sound of Al-BD27s metal feet clicking on the tiled floor. “I have news,” said BD, depositing a tray with a sandwich and flask of water on the floor next to the bunk. John opened one eye and turned on his side. “What?” “The DNA belongs to Gaia Blount, an Aboolan.” He felt his heart jump in his chest. “Gaia Blount?” “Yes, John.” “Were the records updated after birth?” He reached for the sandwich. “No. They are only updated on Aboo for government employees and sex workers.” “Could this be our Gaia? She probably was a sex worker as an exotic dancer but we’d have to check the law. What’s the birthdate?” BD checked his reader. “2377.” John frowned. “That’s two years too early. The date makes her thirty-one, not twenty-nine.” “My programming tells me that females of many species lie. This person is fortytwo percent Earth stock of mixed Japanese and German ancestry and fifty-eight percent Aboolan from the local Nine region.” “Yes.” John scratched his chin. He needed a shave. “You could be right. Can you run a scan on the frequency of the name Gaia on Aboo? I’m going to review the information Vonner gave me. I can’t remember if we ever had a maiden name for her.” “Hadn’t you better find this woman?” The hair on his arms rose. “I don’t want to go back there unless I have to.” “John?” 61
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John dropped the sandwich, pulled off his vest and lifted his shirt. Alpheus sniffed at the meat between the bread slices. “I need to limit my time on Aboo. In addition to the chance that the junta might find me, it’s a violent business finding this woman.” BD dropped his reader on the bed. “We should have seen to you immediately.” “See to it now,” John told him. “Figure out which of your potions will remove the bruising while I check my reader.” BD left the cabin and John leaned forward until he could reach his reader, which was resting on his trunk. He went rapidly through the file but saw there wasn’t a birth name listed for Gaia Marlowe. Maybe the Marlowes hadn’t known it. Automatically he put a hand to the comm-unit on his shoulder, only to discover it wasn’t there. Of course, it had been drained at Draco’s. Had BD fixed it, or recharged the rest of his equipment? It wasn’t in his cabin where he’d dropped it before entering the sonic. Yawning, he picked up his tray and went to the bridge to put in a call to the Web to find out if there was any more data on Gaia available. After that he went to the armory, which was really a cabinet that opened to include a desk where you could work on equipment. BD had neatly put everything away but he could see nothing had been recharged. The droid had flaked out again but at least he’d finished the DNA analysis. John sat down on the stool that tucked into the armory cabinet and turned on the charger unit. They didn’t keep it on at all times like one would in a larger ship because of the power drain. The comm didn’t light up when the charger was turned on though, so he pulled it out of its casing and set it on the table. The diagnostic he ran indicated that a wire was disconnected. He forced the small unit open and discovered the tiny computer chip inside was fried. It couldn’t connect to the wiring at all. What the hell had the Draco’s people done to his equipment? He got up and went to the replicator and had it scan for another chip. The replicator couldn’t make another comm-unit but if he had components in storage it would retrieve them. As the replicator scanned, John saw BD coming toward him, syringe in hand. “This c-c-compound will make the welts absorb into your body within two hours,” the droid said. “But I’m concerned about this job. Three days ago you were poisoned.” “And the day before yesterday too,” John interjected. “Probably. And whipped. I’m not happy about it, okay? But we need the money.” BD wriggled his nose. “If you get killed…” “I’m not going to get killed. I’m more of a chew toy to these folks. She’s a Marlowe after all, not some innocent.” “Turn your head,” BD instructed. John did so, knowing that the moment he did, the needle was going in. “Ouch,” he muttered, feeling the sting.
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“I’m going to take a blood sample now,” said BD. “Just in c-c-case there is anything nasty in you.” John flashed BD his best devil-may-care grin. “Only in my mind.” BD’s nose wriggled again. John wasn’t sure what he’d said that had caused a lot of processing but then he heard a tiny ping and saw a chip drop from the replicator. “All right,” he said with satisfaction. “I don’t remember stocking one but I’m glad we have it.” “Sealy Garrison loaded the replicator with the new standard hunter supply package when we were at the Web,” BD said. “Oh.” At least he hadn’t forgotten doing it himself. “Good.” He heard a crackle from the bridge. “Here,” he tossed the chip to BD. “Fix the comm, would you?” “Vonner here,” he heard when he sat down and put on his headset. “Yeah, it’s Doe.” “What’s up?” “The file on Gaia Marlowe is incomplete.” “What’s missing?” “Birth name, verifiable date of birth, that kind of thing.” “Do you need it?” “I have run across another Gaia. She has the right hair but she has a different last name and is two years older, based on her DNA. I’m suspicious, though. Our Gaia was employed at the same establishment as this Gaia but of course Gaia’s physical type is common here. I’d like to be sure.” There was a long pause. “I gave you everything I had.” “Do the Marlowes have any of our Gaia’s possessions? Can we get DNA from them so I can compare?” “You have the woman’s picture. Why don’t you just get a look at her and figure it out yourself?” “I’d like to be prepared.” I don’t want to go back there unless I absolutely have to. “BHI isn’t a fancy business, John. Just get in and get out, okay?” John felt an ache in his knuckles and looked down to see he was clutching the edge of the console so tightly that his fingers were white. He really didn’t want to do this but he had a repair bill to cover. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want, Ulric.” “Ass,” Vonner said but with a hint of humor. “See you in The Abyss.” “Doe out,” John said, signing off. The Abyss was the black wing, home to all the bounties recovered, or their corpses. And worse, he suspected, inside the mysterious triple-locked Purple Door, though only Vonner knew for sure what was behind the locks.
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He twisted in the chair, discovered his aches and pains were lessening already. BD still knew what he was doing. He hit the comm again, using the frequency for pDoc. The response came quickly. “PDoc, over.” “Yeah,” John said, surprised. “I expected voice mail.” “I don’t have any clients at this time, Killer. What is your request?” “It’s John Doe.” “I’m aware of that.” “Would an Aboolan murderer lie about her age?” “Certainly. She’d want to look as attractive to men as possible.” “Would she go back to a previous place of employment after a kill?” “Such killers tend to be solitary, unless they are looking for another mate.” “So they wouldn’t have a safe house?” “It isn’t out of the realm of possibility that they’d have a hidey-hole on some quiet planet but I don’t believe they’d head back to a former place of employment. Many sentient beings abhor murder and wouldn’t hide the murderer if she was found out.” “Okay, thanks. Doe out.” He hit the disconnect button and leaned back. Either the woman wasn’t Gaia Marlowe or Gaia Marlowe wasn’t a killer. Why hadn’t Vonner insisted on getting complete information on this case? It wasn’t like him. John linked to the Nine city system and did a marriage license search for Lon Inlo, trying to figure out what Gaia’s name was when she married her first husband but nothing came up. Maybe they hadn’t really been married? He frowned. There wasn’t an interplanetary marriage registry. He’d have to use the orbit wisps. Shit. These expenses might eat up his profit. He heard a bark and turned to see Alpheus looking at him imploringly. “It’s not meal time for you,” he said. The dachshund was a voracious eater but John knew he had to be careful not to overfeed her and put stress on her vulnerable spine. It was hard to say no to her, though. The puppy whined and curled up at John’s feet. “Sorry, sweetheart but I’m not staying here. Gotta go outside and find one of those creepy green things.” He lifted his foot over Alpheus and went back to his cabin for his spectra-shades and an energy cube. One should do it, since he wasn’t asking for major research. While he was at it, he’d better head back to Draco’s. “BD,” he called, while he put on his boots. The ship was too small for much privacy. About the only place you couldn’t hear everything said was in the engine room. “Yes?”
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“Can you mix me up a broad-spectrum drug-blocker? I’m going to have to go out there again.” BD appeared in the cabin door, holding John’s comm and his laser pistol. “I can but it will give you a headache and will only last about two hours.” What good would that do? “Never mind. I’ll just make sure not to eat or drink anything, or allow myself to get tied up.” “If you think that’s best.” Could a droid sound sarcastic? The specs said no but John wasn’t so sure. He took the unit and clipped it to his collar, then tucked the pistol into a hidden holster under his vest. “Thanks, BD. Is the pistol fully recharged?” “About eighty percent. None of your other equip-q-q-ment is online yet.” John touched his wrist. “I’ve still got my thiris and my tranq-ring. I’ll take the energy bow too, haven’t used that yet.” At some point on this contract, maybe he’d actually get to use a weapon instead of having someone use one on him. “Are you going after the woman?” “Yes. It’s what, about three hours until dark? Contact me if I’m not back by then.” “Should I search for you if you don’t answer?” “No, stay with the ship. If I’m not back by morning, call Joey and Marty at the Xy safe house and have them advise you.” BD’s nose fluttered. “I’ll be fine but it doesn’t hurt to take precautions.” “Pre-c-c-cautions aren’t like you, sir.” John held up his hand. He’d put on leather half-gloves in case he found himself bracing against any more rough pavement. “Stop. You’re giving me a headache already.” He took his spectra-shades from his trunk and sketched a salute at BD. “Don’t feed Alpheus until her regular dinner hour.” “You hardly touched your food.” “Not hungry, thanks.” The orbit wisps probably wouldn’t be in the hangar, so he went outside before he put on the shades. Almost immediately he saw one about twenty meters away. He sped up to reach it before it drifted away. “Hunter,” the green mass greeted. “You have business?” “Yes. I have a couple of questions. Quick ones.” “You have payment ready?” John held up an energy cube. “Right here.” “Go ahead.”
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“I need marriage information for one Lon Inlo, deceased. Born on Aboo Nine, died on Xy-Three.” He rattled off all the details he had. The orbit wisp responded within moments. “Lon Inlo shows no marriage information registered with any government agency. If he was married it was a private religious ceremony or a common-law arrangement.” That matched the government records he’d seen. “I see. Any marriage information on Gaia Blount?” He told the orbit wisp what he knew. “No,” said the orbit wisp after a pause. “Any current address for her?” The orbit wisp told him the address for Draco’s Whip. Not helpful in the least. “That is a business address, not a home address.” Why had he thought it a good idea to waste an energy cube? “I apologize. We will not charge for that. Two more questions are available for your price.” John tried to think. “Does the name Gaia Inlo exist in your records?” “Gaia Inlo married Toric Marlowe.” The orbit wisp regurgitated what Vonner had given him, including the birthdate that made her twenty-nine. One last question remained. “Do you have any other information about Gaia Inlo?” The orbit wisp contracted then expanded again. “No. She did not exist before the marriage. The documentation provided appeared legitimate and was therefore fraudulent as there was no mention of destroyed records. I apologize. I should have completed your previous question with this information. You have one more question available.” Both Gaia Inlo and Gaia Blount were dead ends as the records confirmed. Who else did he have to pursue? He put his hands to his head and massaged his scalp. Wait, there was one more name. “Do you have an address for the Mannie who owns Draco’s Whip here in Nine other than that of the club itself?” The orbit wisp promptly rattled off an address a half kilometer from the club. “That might be helpful. Thank you.” John tossed the energy cube into the orbit wisp, then took off the glasses. He’d heard nothing that indicated Gaia Blount wasn’t his quarry. She was worth pursuing, so he’d have to go back to the club. He headed east for Mainer Three and Draco’s on foot. The sky above the dome was darkening with the primarily nitrogen clouds that were conveniently used to form the gaseous layer of the elderly, old-fashioned composite plastic dome over the city. He wasn’t sure what element of the clouds gave them that reddish tinge but knew it meant a storm was coming. Even with the dome to protect the atmosphere of the city the temperature had dropped and he wished he’d thought to bring his duster, which also served him as an arsenal and armor-plating.
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It was always best to protect his body, since it was his primary tool. He reached the club in a half hour, keeping an eye on the storm. Even as a child he’d been afraid one of these violent winds that came with the red clouds would finish cracking the dome and destroy the city, though of course the crack was treated both inside by city workers using special tools and outside by droids every three months. A black-haired woman in torn fishnets and a skirt so short that the bottoms of her butt cheeks were exposed stepped out of the building and gave him a curious glance. “Ya’kay?” she asked in the local ghetto patois. He recognized the slang, a language from deepest childhood. “I’m fine,” he said, making sure to meet her eyes, which were circled with green pheromone paint. He felt his cock harden as she swayed toward him and was almost grateful for the sensation. The blood leaving his brain gave him another reason for why he felt funny. The very walls of this place were probably saturated with pheromones to attract customers. “Ya’don lik’kay,” she said, touching his forehead. “Ya’cum here, Jes’tak caroya.” “I’m fine,” he growled and pushed away her hand. He couldn’t afford to pay for sex with another energy cube spent. “I have business at Draco’s.” “Dome’ll shakup whentha storm’cum,” she said. “Ya’cum here.” “I’ll stay inside Draco’s, thank you.” He forced a smile and walked as quickly away as he could, still keeping his fingertips at the wall for comfort. His cock stayed hard, pressing against the tapes of his pants. He hoped the inferior replicator replacements stayed together. Within a few minutes he had reached the glass awning of Draco’s. At this time of early evening there was only one bouncer outside. Steeling himself, he walked right up to the large man, shirtless despite the chill air, showing off pierced nipples from which hung half circles of some rough-finished metal. “I want to speak to Gaia Blount,” John said in a low tone, hanging his head and trying to look like he imagined a supplicant would. “I need to apologize, ask her forgiveness for my behavior last night.” He realized too late that he shouldn’t have said her last name, in case it wasn’t common knowledge but the bouncer didn’t react. The man looked at him with a sour expression. “Gaia’s not here.” “Is it too early? What’s her normal shift?” “She doesn’t have one.” “Surely she has some kind of routine. How long has she worked here?” John asked casually. The man just stared at him. With an inward sigh, John reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a one hundred-credit, rectangular coin, which was gold and embossed with a sun on one side. The other side displayed the laughable logo “In the Amalgamation We Trust.” In Nine 67
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this could buy a good night on the town. At a cheaper bar he’d have offered fifty but he had a feeling that wouldn’t buy him much information here. He tossed the coin to the bouncer, who caught it in his enormous palm. “The mistresses don’t appreciate being stalked,” the bouncer said. “If you need punishment you come during normal business hours. Mistress Gaia has been coming in about eleven p.m. this week.” “Did her schedule change recently?” John asked, returning his head to its submissive bow. “She’s only been back a week or so. Gone for years, she was but she was popular back then.” “So Mannie welcomed her back?” “Why wouldn’t she welcome back her own flesh and blood?” the bouncer asked. John wanted to ask the bouncer if Gaia stayed with Mannie but knew he’d get pegged as a stalker for sure if he did. He’d have to do surveillance on Mannie’s house if Gaia didn’t come in tonight. For now he’d just have to find a place to wait until eleven. “Thank you. I’ll come back later tonight.” “You do that.” The man forced the chip into a pocket in his tight red leather pants. John walked away and went around the corner so he didn’t look suspicious to the bouncer, then doubled back and walked into the alley behind the club. If the employees had a separate entrance it would be back here. He did find two nondescript doors but the alley was too well lit for him to remain. Though the storm and the prostitute’s warning made him cautious, his best plan was probably to go to Mannie’s house now. The walk would only be about ten minutes and it wasn’t even ten p.m. As he stepped out again, he was suddenly struck by the familiarity of a parking garage. Why would it—oh wait. His bike? Could he have left it there? It made sense, if he’d really gone to that club on the night he couldn’t remember. He went inside, put his hand on the control panel right before the security door. It opened for him. Within five minutes his beautiful silver motorcycle appeared on a conveyer belt. The machine croaked loudly as it stopped in front of him. The bike was released from its hold as soon as he paid for the excess storage and it rolled right to his feet. Finally, he had all his equipment back despite himself and his erection had relaxed. He took off in the direction of Mannie’s house, keeping an uneasy eye on the dome and the red-tinged clouds swiftly crossing the sky above. He’d be okay as long as the clouds continued to move northwest and didn’t start to circle. Irritated, he shook his head free of his unexpected knowledge and kept riding. If he thought about it too much the pain would return. Soon, he realized he was in recognizable territory, drifting up Port. Unable to resist, he retraced his path to the red-tiled house where his family had died. He came up to it just as the clouds seemed to stop swirling. Heartened by this, he parked in front of the chain-link fence. Seventeen years ago, when the murders had
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occurred, he’d been ten, oblivious to the heated politics surrounding him. It was certainly true that Aboo was one of the most important planetary systems, with the Amalgamation headquarters on Two but Aboo Nine was nothing special. Still. His family had ruled here for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. The Amalgamation shouldn’t have sold them out just because his father was honest. As long as the Amalgamation backed the current government, he knew there was no hope for the Resistance. One small group of planetary rebels couldn’t defeat a nearly universal government and he wasn’t willing to be the figurehead the rebels laid down their lives for. Better alive and pissed off at high taxes and crooked dealings than dead. He would remain practical and because of that lives would be saved. His fingers poked through the sagging fence and he wrapped them around the metal strands. In the fading light he could see rust coating the metal. Seventeen years ago there hadn’t been a chain-link fence. Soldiers had been outside but they weren’t loyal to the family. They had turned off the security system and allowed the militia, backed by some of the famous human Super Soldiers, to break in and kill. John shook his head. He looked up the sky, offering a prayer for his family to higher powers and saw, ominously, that the clouds had started to circle. And the eye of the storm appeared to be directly overhead. A strange whine started in the air. He heard a door shut farther down the street. Should he run to Mannie’s house? Or back to the club? He’d never make it to the space port. He touched the comm-unit on his shoulder. “BD, come in.” In a moment, as the whine increased in the air, he heard, “BD, over.” “Stay inside,” John ordered. “There’s a storm.” “Are you safe?” He made a split-second decision. “I’m going to break into a deserted house until the storm is over. Stay with Alpheus.” No need to tell AL-BD27 which house. BD had saved his life that horrible night and if droids had any feelings the ones brought back by remembering that night would do him no good. There was a cracking noise and the sidewalk under John’s feet seemed to rumble as the whine in the air increased. Above, the circle of clouds spun faster. Could it destroy the dome? It had held for three hundred years but maybe its very age made it vulnerable. John grabbed the chain-link fence and started to tug. Could he pull it up enough to crawl underneath?
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Chapter Seven Quitting Time
He couldn’t lift the fence and it was getting harder to stay on his feet as the ground continued to shudder. He saw the sidewalk crack a meter away. Should he hop back on the bike and ram the fence? No. He’d better leave that as a final option considering the damage it might do to him, much less his bike. Back on the bike, he rode it around to the side of the house. There was a garage but it too was behind the fence. He would have to abandon the bike and climb the fence but at least he was off the street now. A creaking noise came from the main avenue. Was the asphalt cracking in the road now? He didn’t want to look back and find out. Jumping, he caught the fence only a few meters from the top and pulled himself up. He chose the part of the fence next to soft-looking plantings rather than the driveway, trying to be smart. Once he had his boot heels locked into the fence links, precarious though it was in his footwear, he reached up and grabbed above his head, pulling himself up. Thank the gods the top wasn’t covered in barbed wire. He looked up through the dome and saw the red-tinged clouds circling. Then he saw a zigzag of lightning gash down, slapping onto the street not far from where he was. He winced, clinging to the fence, then realized he could be electrocuted if the lightning came much closer. Fingers bleeding from the sharp edges of the chain-link fence, unprotected by his half-gloves, he pulled himself to the top and crawled over. Spikes. The bastards had spiked the top. Tiny shards bit across his torso and the inside of his thigh as they hit the top of the fence. He arched his back in electric pain, pulled himself off the tiny impalements with a quick jerk and fell off the fence. Instinctively, he curled into a ball, protecting his head and hit the ground with a thud. His brain felt bruised, like it had sloshed against the inside of his skull and he’d bitten his tongue. Swearing, he felt his legs, then his arms. No bones were sticking out at least but he was going to be one big bruise by morning. He rolled to his back, saw lightning rake the sky again. At least he’d fallen inside the fence, though he had no idea how he’d get out again after the storm was over. He didn’t want to be spiked again. He stood gingerly, testing his ankles and feet. His left one was sore but his heavy boots kept everything in the right place so he could limp to the house. Of course the front door was locked. And it was steel, so he couldn’t kick it in. Could he blast it open with his laser pistol? Lightning zigged again, hitting a sagging half-dead bush in the front yard. It began to smoke but didn’t look like it would burst into flames. Genuinely worried now, he pushed the door again. There weren’t any 70
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windows to break. He felt around the door, feeling like a fool, searching for any kind of weak spot that his pistol might cut through. It probably couldn’t manage a thick door but he pulled it out anyway. He didn’t want to die here like the rest of his family had. Then he remembered the energy bow. Fumbling, he grabbed for one of the copper balls that exploded and expanded it into an arrow, then unfolded the bow. Taking a few steps back, he cocked the bow and let the arrow sing. The metal shattered upon impact, leaving a jagged hole in the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through. Thanks, Dex. Hearing the creaking noise from the street again, he didn’t bother to look back, just folded up the bow, then grasped his pistol in both hands and walked in sideways, pushing the door closed behind him. The room was very dark and the floor was shuddering just like the street had been. How stable was it? The house probably hadn’t been maintained in seventeen years. He quickly made a circuit of the main floor. There were boarded-up windows in the back but cracks let a little light through and he found a replicator, turned off, as well as kitchen appliances and a staircase that led upward. Something about the way the steps reached into the darkness made him uncomfortable, even though he didn’t see any signs of the massacre so far. He started opening doors, found steps that led down. It might be safer in the basement in this storm and the air smelled okay. He hugged the wall and started down slowly. At the base of the steps he heard dripping, like there was a leak in a pipe or a faucet was running. He couldn’t remember if there was abundant water on Aboo Nine or not. One hand against the wall to his left so he could track where he was going, he pointed the pistol in the direction of the water and started walking. Ten steps. Eleven steps. Twelve. The water was closer now. He’d gone perhaps halfway toward it. A rustling came from behind him. He turned, wishing he had a flashlight. Was it some kind of rodent? There was no way to know. The water was toward the front of the house, the street side without windows. Maybe he was better off going to the back of the house. Was the basement completely below ground or were there windows? He decided to ignore the water and reverse direction. When he turned around, he felt a breath of wind as if his movement had stirred the hair. He straightened his arms, holding the pistol in front on him. “Ya!” A high voice screamed and he felt a glancing blow at his shoulder. He whirled, kicked out, felt something solid collide with his leg, smash into his arm. He managed to keep one grip on his pistol and fired. The energy burst went wide but in the brief light he saw a pair of eyes. Human eyes, wide with fright. “Wha’da ya’wan?” The voice, female, was a meter away from him now.
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“Protection from the storm.” He held out his arms, the pistol loose in his grip. Gods, he could have killed her. “I won’t attack if you won’t.” “Ya’ga pistol,” said the voice, shaking. “I’m putting it into the holster now, okay. My hands are free.” “Can’ see ya,” said the voice. “I know but I’m telling the truth. You attacked me first.” “I’wa afrai’.” “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” The house shook again, hard. The woman gave a little scream and was suddenly against him, flinging her arms around him. She was fine-boned but muscular, he noticed, and quite a bit shorter than he was. “It’s okay,” he said, touching her hair when he was sure she wasn’t reaching for his pistol. “These storms never last for long.” “I forgot how bad they were,” she said. His eyes narrowed when he heard her speak Standard instead of ghetto patois. He pushed her back. “What game are you playing?” “Wha?” “You speak Standard.” “So? I was scared before, still am. No one tries to steal from ghetto girls.” “That’s ridiculous.” “We don’t have anything to take.” “But you aren’t a ghetto girl.” “I used to be. It was tough times after the overthrow. It got better, for a while at least. I hate this, feeling like I’m in a cage.” “How did you get in here?” “Climbed the fence. When the storm hit I didn’t want to take the time to get back home or make it all the way to work.” “Did you avoid the spikes?” “Of course. I knew they were there. Didn’t you?” “No. They sting like hell,” John admitted. “We’d better take a look at you. The tips could have broken off into your skin.” Her voice had switched from soft to brisk. John winced at the thought, wished BD were there. “It’s too dark to see.” “I have a tiny light in my bag. It’s enough to check. Come over here. I found a bedroom on the other side.” John followed her footsteps in the dark. Eventually she stopped and he came alongside her. She smelled faintly of oranges. His senses felt like they were opening with the bright scent. 72
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“Can you feel the bed?” He reached down. There was cloth there. Dust coated his fingers. “Right there.” “Where did the spikes get you?” “My chest and leg.” “You’d better strip then.” “You’ve got to be kidding.” “I’m serious about the spikes. If your wounds still hurt that must mean the tips are still under your skin.” John sighed and sat down on the bed. “If you touch my pistol I will attack you. Even in the dark I can tell I’m a lot bigger than you are.” “I won’t touch it. What’s your name?” He thought about it, figured he’d better use something local. “Ashby,” he said. “If you’re going to lie couldn’t you make the name slightly less gruesome?” she said. He could hear the distaste in her voice. While pulling off his shirt, he tried to figure out why the name bothered her. “Why is it gruesome?” “That was the name of the governor, the one who was murdered here with his family. Ashby Hofmann.” Shit. Of all the names to say. He’d used his father’s without thinking. But why did this woman care? If she was a member of the Resistance he was in trouble. “I’m from off-planet, sorry. I just knew I’d heard it somewhere.” “What’s your real name?” He hesitated, couldn’t come up with another alibi. “John.” After a pause she said, “Nothing wrong with John. I’m Gail.” If she was lying he couldn’t tell. It hardly mattered. He leaned forward to pull off his boots, let out a pained gasp when the shards pushed in. Swearing, he leaned back. “I’m not going to be able to get my boots and pants off.” “I’ll do it.” He felt hands tugging at his boots. His ankle screamed in protest as the left one came off. “What’s wrong?” “I fell off the fence. That ankle isn’t happy about it.” “You really took a beating,” she commented, pulling off the other boot. Then she put her hands on the tapes of his fake leather pants. His cock gave a little jerk when it felt female hands only two layers of fabric above it. Okay, only one layer, he realized. He hadn’t put on any underclothes in his rush. “Ummm, Gail. I’m naked under my pants.” “Doesn’t matter,” she pulled the tapes apart. “We’ve got to get a look at your leg.” 73
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His cock hardened instantly as the cool air hit it. She reached under his ass and he pushed off from the bed so she could pull the pants down, her head hovering somewhere around his nipples as she did so. Until she pushed his pants all the way down to his ankles, then her head was only centimeters away from the leaking head of his cock. “This is getting kind of sexy,” he said, hearing his voice go rough. “You wouldn’t enjoy being on top of me with those spikes pressing into your chest,” she said. So her mind was leaning in the same direction as his. Fascinating. “I don’t know,” he said flirtatiously. “Heaven and hell would merely be mixed together.” “You don’t even know what I look like,” she protested. “I know what you smell like. And I know you’re fit and muscled, to have attacked me the way you did. I bet you’re as hot as they come.” “Thanks,” she said wryly. “I’ve got my pack here somewhere, with the light.” He reached for his holstered pistol and slid it down between the mattress and the end of the sleigh-type bed frame, then lay back on the bed, spreading his legs so she’d be able to see the wounds. Despite the cool air he was beginning to sweat slightly and the cuts were itching. At least the discomfort took his mind off his mistreated cock. Her hand-light was pinpoint-sized indeed. He couldn’t get any more of a picture of her than before, except the sight of slender, walnut-brown fingers holding the light. Like the mistress who might have been Gaia Marlowe? No, he merely had her on the brain. “How are you going to get the spikes out?” “I have tweezers.” He felt a sharp sting on his leg and jerked. She laughed. “You almost caught me in the eye with your cock. Stay still!” “I’d rather catch you with it somewhere else,” he muttered but with the way his luck was going the roof would probably fall in just when he was starting to enjoy himself. He felt another sharp sting on his leg. The ground underneath them shook again and he heard the creaking outside for the first time since he’d come into the murder house. A third sting. A fourth. “I think I got all the spikes from your leg. Can you sit up? It will be easier for me to work on your chest that way.” He obeyed and she knelt in front of him between his legs. His cock was still thick, unable to relax when it was naked and facing a clothed woman. Now that the handlight was pointing at his chest he got an image of thick black hair cascading halfway down to her elbows.
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It seemed like he’d been plagued by black-haired women this trip but then most women on Aboo Nine had dark hair. She plucked a shard from his chest. He heard a ping as it dropped just as the room rumbled again. “Where are you dropping those? We don’t want to touch them accidentally.” “In a pill box I had.” A tremor under the floor had her grabbing one of his knees just as she pulled out another spike tip. “I’don lik’it.” Her drop back into slang must mean she was getting nervous but her hand was steady enough as she pulled out another shard. “That’s three,” he said. “I don’t know how many there are.” “I think you’re about halfway up the holes on my chest.” “Poor man. It’s such a nice chest too.” “You think so?” “Except for this scar I can feel here,” she touched his left lower abdomen as she pulled out another spike tip, catching the skin this time. “Ouch.” He gritted his teeth. “Oh, sorry. Where’d you get the scar?” “I don’t know. It’s been there as long as I remember.” Another tweezer sting. “It’s a pretty big scar.” “I’ve got a few.” “How’d you get them?” “I was a soldier.” Sting. “I wish you could fight back the storm.” “Oh, I can make it all go away for you.” Sting. She ignored his comment. “I think I got them all.” He could hear a rustle as she shifted on the floor. “Run your hand down your chest and leg, check if you can feel any more of them.” He ran a hand lightly down his chest, then repeated more firmly when nothing sharp caught at his hand. He touched her hair. “Now your leg,” she said. “Couldn’t you check?” “I already did.” He put his hand to the spots where the spikes had driven in perilously close to his nuts. No pain. “You do good work.” “My mother was a doctor, back before the overthrow. Guess I learned something from her.”
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“What does she do now?” “She died when the militia blew up the Senate office building. She worked there two days a week.” She was tailor-made to be a rebel. He’d have to be careful. “I’m sorry. What about your father?” The floor rumbled again and she grabbed his knee for support as it shook. “Don’t know. He was just a fling, I guess.” She didn’t let go of his knee when the floor stopped moving. “Do you have flings too, Gail?” he asked, touching her thick fall of hair again. The scent of oranges seemed to be coming from it. “Not very often.” “We could take our minds off the storm.” A crashing noise came from above them. Even John felt himself ducking instinctively. Some soldier. “Come down here,” she whispered. He dropped to the floor at her request, so that he ended up with her cradled against his chest, between his legs. “I feel safer this way.” The floor shook. “Are you sure this helps?” “It sounded like something hit the roof.” “There are at least two stories above us.” He bit back a groan as her finger brushed his nipple. “Three stories,” she said. “The governor was killed on the main floor, when he confronted the rebels. His wife and their children were killed in the attic where they’d gone in the hopes that a hover-copter would rescue them.” A flash of wind, whipping at his mother’s hair through the open window. A small boy, eyes open in shock as black-painted warriors blasted through the door carrying laser rifles. Blood. John squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to remember but couldn’t tell her to stop, that he knew the story. “How many children were there?” he asked. “Two. They were brothers. The younger was six, the older ten. A hover-copter did come but all it rescued was the bodies after the governor’s guard on board killed the rebels. It was too late though, the junta had come to power.” “Did you know the family?” “No. My mother treated the governor for a sprained ankle once, when he tripped on the dais after giving a speech to the Senate.” John bent his foot, winced at his own sore ankle. “Sounds like it was a terrible time here.” “Where did you grow up?” “Earth,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else. Like us.”
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She laughed. “There’s no us, John.” “Sure there is. Right now we’re the only two people in the world.” He touched her hair again. “You like my hair, don’t you,” she said. “I’m having a hair thing right now, yes,” he said. “If you want to offer me anything else I can obsess on that instead.” She raised her hand to his. He felt her long fingers, held each one up in turn so he could nibble on it. He heard a sigh and she leaned her cheek into his chest. Her warmth felt wonderful against his chilled skin. “How long do these storms last normally?” “I don’t know,” she said dreamily. He hoped it lasted somewhere between long enough to have sex and not long enough to destroy the house above them. Reaching above them, he grabbed the edges of the mattress on the bed and pulled it over their heads until it plopped on the floor. “Did you leave any shards on this?” “No. They all fit in my pill box,” she said. “Then, come.” He took her hand again and tugged her onto the mattress. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she said. He chuckled. “It only gets better from here, babe.” She leaned against him and blew into his ear. As he shivered she asked, “What do you like in bed, John?” A paddle hit hard against his ass, making his cock rub against the hard wood he leaned against. He closed his eyes tightly. “Just the usual things. Fucking someone’s brains out while a roof collapses above us.” “Mmmm,” she said into his ear, making the fine hairs rise. “That’s my idea of a good time too.” He pushed her back into the mattress and she laughed up at him. He loved her throaty voice but wondered what she looked like. Then she palmed his cock and he decided he didn’t care. He tugged her legs apart and crawled between them. Was she ready? He leaned down and blew between her legs, then licked her pussy lips open. Her flesh was warm and salty, very soft against his tongue and he felt his balls tighten from the sheer pleasure of it. He blew again and heard her bite back a little gasp. When he pushed on her inner thighs to open her even more to him, she bent back toward the bed easily. She was flexible, a dancer maybe? This set off warning bells in the back of his brain but then again, what woman didn’t dance for her credits in this part of town?
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He took his tongue as far south as he could reach and, after dipping into her channel, slid up to her clit and circled it. Her hands fisted in his hair. He took a breath and repeated. Her juices were slickening her folds now, her scent was rising. The skin on his own body was tingling and his cock ached for release. “C’mon, John, fuck me,” she whispered. “I need it.” His fingers tightened around her thighs. “You do?” “Yes.” Her voice was breathy. “I want to just be.” He sucked her clit hard, circling his tongue around the small nub. If he weren’t so excited himself the way she pulled at his hair would really hurt. She thrust her pelvis against his face, grinding and shaking, her vocalizations past words. She had a hair-trigger arousal going on here, John decided as he tongued her channel. Had it been a while or was he just really good? As the floor shook under the mattress he decided that it was maybe just the danger exciting her—but whatever worked. He was going to come this time, or die trying. Leaving his tongue on her so that it swept up through her pussy, along the smooth skin of her mons, around her bellybutton through the valley between her breasts, he finally had his cock exactly where it belonged. He pushed in with measured ferocity, his body pressed to hers because he was using his arms to hold her legs apart. He thrust until there was nowhere else to go and saw black patches behind his eyes with the sheer pleasure of it. “Yes,” he gasped. “Yes,” she agreed, so he pulled out and did it all over again, ignoring a crash above their heads. “The roof?” she said, as he thrust a third time. “Fuck the roof,” he said, which was hard to say with his lips curled back from the effort of thrusting slowly. She pushed up against him now, meeting each stroke. He lifted her legs so that her feet curled around his neck and her hips nearly left the floor. “Yes,” she said again, her voice scratchy. “Yes, do that more.” He pounded into her, deep and true with every long glide. His arms shook but whether from holding most of her weight or with a coming orgasm he didn’t know. Or the building was shaking and he couldn’t tell the difference. He quickened his pace. She grabbed for his arms, pressing her fingernails into his biceps, gasping for air. Her tight channel let him go only reluctantly and it felt like brain cells were flowing from him at each pulsing movement. Then there wasn’t any time left and nothing mattered. “Gail?” he said. No response, just harsh breathing. “Gail?” he repeated. “Yes?”
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“In or out?” “Oh, in please,” she said. “Are you protected?” He felt sweat dewing his ass and shoulders. He was close. Her pussy was gripping him with the force of a suction cup as he tugged himself out of her and thrust in again. “You…can’t…get…me…pregnant,” she said, pushing against him with each word. “Don’t…worry.” “Fine.” He dropped her legs and gripped her ass, pulling her against him and forgetting to be gentle. “Yessss,” she screamed. “Oh yesss, just like that!” In another moment she was shaking under him, her pussy grabbing at him with spasmodic shudders his cock couldn’t resist. He felt an almost tearing sensation then he was shaking too and his cum came in waves, filling her. She held his shuddering body tightly, soothed him with soft sounds. There was something he needed to do but he couldn’t think now. Still inside her, he fell asleep, despite their precarious situation. When he woke up, he couldn’t tell at first that he’d opened his eyes. He blinked hard, then realized the room was pitch dark, just like it had been before. It was quiet though. He couldn’t even hear breathing. “Gail?” he asked. No response. “Gail?” he repeated louder, raising his head from the mattress. Nothing. She was gone.
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Chapter Eight Reminiscence
He should have cuffed her while he’d had a chance but he hadn’t come in so long that his orgasm had taken the wind right out of his sails. She had a pussy so juicy and tight that he might have dreamed her. He knew she’d been real though, from his injuries alone. Those spikes had hurt. His ankle was still sore too. It had been one hell of a day but he’d survived it. While he sat up and started to methodically warm and stretch his muscles, he wondered when he had decided that Gail was Gaia Marlowe. After all, what were the chances that he’d land in the same place as his quarry during a storm? Had this place been for some reason the one location she never thought he’d find her? Or had she seen him on the street and come back to hide? If Gaia was also the mistress at Draco’s, then he was on her turf, certainly, somewhere between the club and Mannie’s house and everyone would know this house was deserted and therefore a good place to hide during the storm. That made sense. The mere fact that she was gone now damned her, in his opinion. If only her perfect pussy hadn’t made him come. He could have grabbed his pants and cuffed her while she had her orgasm. But there was no way he could have resisted that tight pull on his cock. She was a fucking wet dream…and his bounty. Why hadn’t she killed him in his sleep? She hadn’t been afraid to attack him in the dark. Maybe she hadn’t recognized him after all. The entire interlude already seemed like a dream but not the kind that ended with the woman returning naked with a hot beverage and pastry. He reached around in the darkness, hunting for his clothing and weapons. It was far from surprising that he couldn’t find his laser pistol but the rest of his gear was here, even his electro-cuffs. She so easily could have done damage to him but chose not to. Classy or crazy, she must be one of the two. Feeling like his manhood had been impugned, he felt his way up the stairs of the murder house. Being here had a strange effect on him, in more ways than one. The light was dim upstairs but he could see sky through cracks in the boarded-up windows. The storm had passed and the dome, from what he could see, didn’t appear to be in any worse shape than before. The main floor was free of furnishings and he could see debris on the tile floors that had come from the ceiling above. The old place had taken quite a shaking the night before. He wondered how much longer it would stand? He kept wandering until he arrived in the kitchen.
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Without quite knowing what he was doing, he started running his hands along the wall in a knot-work-paneled nook off the kitchen. His fingers seemed to know something his brain did not. He felt a crack along one side to the left of a boarded-up bay window and started pushing the knots in the wood. One of them depressed as his fingers found it and the crack he’d discovered turned into the outline of a door, which slid back into the wall. That’s right, his father had a secret room. Why hadn’t they used it that night to hide? “They’ll take us off the roof,” Mommy screamed. “Don’t go downstairs!” “Daddy,” Eyan cried, sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes against the sudden light. “Where’s Daddy?” “Downstairs,” Mommy said, glancing through the curtains. “It’s okay. We’ll see him in a little while.” John blinked as he remembered how they’d been caught totally unaware that night. He stepped into the musty air of the secret room. It was covered with debris from the damaged ceiling. Apparently more than one storm had battered this room. Maybe the present government kept the rest of the place tidy but didn’t know about the hidden space. John stepped through, grateful that Gaia hadn’t taken his boots. He turned in a circle, then bent down to see the desk from a child’s perspective. Something seemed familiar so he crawled under the desk and peeked out between the legs. “Peekaboo, Daddy.” He giggled but Daddy didn’t bend down since he was talking to some important people who were his friends. “This will be fine but I hope we never need a backup,” Daddy was saying. “I’ve never liked that clock tower on the governor’s mansion. It’s more vulnerable to storms than a place like this.” Daddy nodded. “Good work.” He turned and smiled down at the desk. His hair was brown and the skin around his eyes creased in smile lines that accentuated his blue eyes. He had much more human blood than native Aboolan, unlike Mommy. Baby blues, Mommy always said. “I love those baby blues.” This house held good and bad memories. He stood up from his crouch and investigated the debris on the desk. There was a data reader, which he pocketed, as well as a dented holo-cube. In a drawer he found a whistle made of wood. His fingers trembled as he took it. The whistle had belonged to Eyan, his little brother. He decided not to go upstairs. This place was creeping him out and he had a bounty to find. His life left no room for emotion. Outside, his bike was missing. He smiled, despite the long painful walk he now had ahead. AL-BD27 was sure to have put a locator on it, after John had nearly lost the expensive bike earlier on this excursion. All he had to do was contact his ship.
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He put a hand to his shoulder. Shit! The comm-unit was gone. There was no way he was going back into the basement of that house to find it, either. The only consolation was that he managed to get over the fence without impaling himself this time.
***** “I am sorry, John but I c-c-can’t find the bike.” John dropped the tool he was using to jury-rig power to the holo-cube so he could see the picture it contained. It had been powered by some kind of battery that wasn’t made anymore. He’d worked on the data reader first but it would need major repairs before he could access the data it contained. “Why not? You said you put a tracking device on it.” “The thief may have found and destroyed it, or stored it far underground where the sensor is useless.” “Or it’s already off-world,” John said sourly. He liked that bike. “That’s possible,” BD said. “We probably wouldn’t be able to sense it if it was even loaded onto a ship due to the shields and alloys.” “What good is the locator then?” The droid’s nose wiggled. “Slum locals usually don’t have ship access.” “The kinds we chase do. Remember that in the future.” “Yes, sir.” John hated it when BD sirred him. “You’re irritating me.” “I know.” The droid walked away. And to think that his brain was as mangled as the droid’s. He bent back over his tool. “There.” He’d managed to get two tiny wires connected into the space where the battery was supposed to go. “Now, to power her up.” Alpheus whined but didn’t move from her spot draped over his feet, despite the ice wrap on his ankle. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll eat in a minute. I just want to finish this.” He pushed a button to start up his power source. The holo-cube flickered, then disappeared, surrounded by a three-dimensional image of four people about twenty centimeters high. It was the Hofmanns and not too long before the murder either, judging from the Eyan’s appearance. His family was smiling and happy-looking. He had his arm locked around his brother, who was missing a front tooth but grinning cheerily anyway.
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They looked so alive and so…together. This was what he’d lost. Even a stranger could have seen that these people liked each other, played together. He felt a pang for the loss of them. John knew he was just a soldier now. He knew weapons, ships, violence and lust. These happy boys in the holo-cube had died young, both of them. Seventeen years ago, that older boy, the one with the spiky brown hair and copper eyes had died too, resurrected as the son of a bitch, John Doe. How could he have once been this laughing boy, with an adoring younger brother and parents who loved them both? And how could he have deserted the people his parents loved so much? The citizens of Aboo Nine? But then, he’d had to survive. Those citizens had helped him to escape, to live. They had sheltered him on Earth until he was old enough to be apprenticed to the mercenaries, created the man he was today. A soldier, a fighter, a bounty hunter. He got up, forgetting Alpheus, who whimpered but trotted out of the way. John nearly tripped against the weapons locker. “BD,” he called. “Yes, sir?” “Stop that. Get Alpheus some dinner. I need to call Vonner.” “Yes…John.” John smiled in grim satisfaction then went to the bridge to contact the Web. Vonner was making himself scarcer this time and he had to go through two functionaries before he reached the man himself. “Doe?” Vonner said. He had just a touch of irritation in his voice. “I need a few days off,” John said, getting right to the point. No need to stretch this out. “Why? Broke your leg?” John ignored the dig. “No, just sprained my ankle. I’m having some, well, troubling experiences here on Nine and I’d like to take some time to do a personal investigation.” “What about the bounty?” “You can assign someone else to her if you want, or you can wait.” “What about your debt to me?” “It’s up to you. I’ll get her in the end, if that’s what you want.” “John,” Vonner said after a long pause. “What the hell is going on?” “I’d like to contact the Resistance here on Aboo. I know it’s dangerous but I feel like I owe it to my parents. To myself. I can’t chase Gaia Marlowe and dig into the rebel underworld at the same time.” John heard a shifting sound, like the scrape of chair legs on a wood floor. “Look, John, if you don’t bring Gaia Marlowe here in the next forty-eight hours, heads are going to roll. Yours might even be one of them.” 83
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John ignored the threat. “I’m not even sure she’s guilty, Vonner. My investigation—” “I don’t care, John. We’re bounty hunters, not rebels. Stop wasting your time and get your head on straight. Get the girl and get back here. You can play your piddly-ass dethroned king games on your own time. Vonner out.” John pushed the disconnect button so hard his finger joint locked for a second. He wasn’t looking to retake the throne his family had lost three hundred years ago. He just wanted to check in, see if his hard-earned expertise might help the Resistance. But now Gaia’s life might be in his hands too. Forty-eight hours including flight time and for all he knew, Gaia had run for it after the storm. She must have taken the bike, so she had a significant head start to do whatever she felt needed doing. Would she have left the planet? Why was he suddenly on deadline? He didn’t do well with deadlines. While he tried to force his brain to function, he called for BD. “Yes, John?” “See if you can get any data off the reader I brought in, okay?” “Sure, John.” John turned away from the window, which showed him nothing but the gray interior of the hangar. “BD?” “Yes?” “Is there anything in your own system that lists friends of my parents? Can you run a check to see if any of them are still alive?” The droid stilled as it ran a process. “John, I find a system wipe in 2392. That’s sixteen years ago. It would have been shortly after the massac-c-cre, per my history files. There’s nothing I can find that meets that criteria.” John nodded. Of course not. “No surprise there. Look, I’m going to Mannie’s house, see what I can find out about Gaia Marlowe. We’re on a deadline now.” “I should go with you to provide medical attention if you should need it.” “No, stay here and work on my father’s data reader. Keep an eye on the sensors around the hangar, just in case anyone comes visiting.” “Yes, John.” The droid tottered off, apparently content at having a role to play. John stepped back into the ready room and assembled a new comm-unit, then geared up, irritated that he’d have to waste time walking to Mannie’s since he was without his bike. Hopefully he’d retrieve it along the way. Outside the hangar he could see it was now midmorning. The proprietor of Draco’s Whip would most likely still be asleep at this hour, which suited him just fine. She’d probably be home.
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As he reached the edge of the red-light district he saw a hover-bus stopping a few meters from him. He dashed over and caught it, using credit coins to pay for the ride. That would save him some boot leather and ankle pain. The bus stopped a quarter kilometer from his final destination. John jumped off, feeling quite self-satisfied and contacted BD to tell it where he was, then headed for Mannie’s house. Not unexpectedly, the house was a bit fortresslike, though not especially large. John paced the perimeter, wondering if he should break in but he saw evidence of a good security system. He shrugged and went back to the main gate. A receiver panel perched on the right of a tall metal gate. He pushed the button. No answer. He pushed again. And again. “Yes,” said a sulky voice through static, thirty seconds after he’d pushed the button the third time. Now he was getting somewhere. “I’d like to see Mannie.” “What is this regarding?” “Is Mannie available?” “What is your purpose?” “Important personal business.” “Mannie’s or yours?” said the voice, now sounding amused. Servants were rarely amused. “Am I speaking to Mannie herself?” John asked. “You are.” “I’d like to meet with you. Name’s John Doe.” “Why would I want to meet with you?” Growing irritated, John checked his watch, saw he was nearly two hours into Vonner’s deadline. “Look ma’am, there’s people who seem to want Gaia Marlowe dead. Don’t you want to get to the bottom of this before it’s too late?” “You’re the bounty hunter, aren’t you?” “Yes, ma’am.” Word had traveled for sure then. “Aren’t you one of those trying to kill my niece?” The amusement had left the static-y voice. “I’m trying to take her in, to the Web.” “What will they do to her there? Hand her over to those bastards on Xy-Three?” He wished he knew. “Can’t we talk about this in person?” “She isn’t here,” Mannie said. Maybe so, maybe not. “I’d still like to speak to you.” “I’ll pay you to leave us alone.” “Then someone else will come until this is over. Trust me, I’m your best bet.” I’ve got some morals left.
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He heard a sigh, then the gate to his left began to slide open. When there was enough room, he squeezed through the space and walked across an untidy, dusty space filled with pebbles and weeds until he reached the front door of a squat, unattractive house. There were no windows on the front. It looked like it had been built to defend, not to enjoy. The door didn’t open to welcome him in. Was he going to have to do the persuasion routine again? Then he noticed a slit at eye level on the door, just as it started to retract. “Mannie?” he said to the pair of eyes. “What’s it going to take to make you go away?” “I told you, it won’t matter. Someone else will come.” “How can I make her safe?” John shrugged. “As long as there’s a bounty on her, she’s safest at the Web. For all I know, the Marlowes put the call out to other bounty hunters.” “So they’re behind this, are they?” “You think Gaia would have others after her?” “She’s had stalkers after her before, from the club. Even powerful men, who’ve found her intriguing. You do your best to screen but sometimes unstable people slip through.” She paused. “You got in easily enough. We’ve banned the mistress who let you in.” So that had been Gaia in the club. He decided to take a chance. “Why did Gaia stay with me in the murder house last night?” John saw Mannie’s nostrils flare as the woman sniffed. “I don’t know anything about that.” But she had blinked. Yes, that had been Gaia too. They were circling around each other but to attack or something else? “I have to say your niece has had a powerful effect on me.” He heard clicking noises and the door swung open. Had he said the magic password? He followed the trail of a blue robe swishing on the floor through the hallway and into a receiving room, still windowless and seated himself on an uncomfortable chair that would have worked well in an interrogation room. “How do we get the Marlowes called off?” the woman asked, seating herself on a sofa that was one step up from a hard bench. Mannie was an older, plumper, more Asian version of Gaia, somehow, with thickly lined eyes and makeup that made her face nearly white, in stark contrast to her walnut hands. John tucked one booted foot at his knee. “Ma’am, I’ve never met a Marlowe. My boss handles all that.” The edges of her mouth turned down. “Then what good are you going to be to me?” “I’m here to help her,” he said, not sure as soon as words left his mouth why he’d said it. “Did she kill her husband?” 86
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Mannie’s chest jerked as if a breath had been strangled in her chest. “Which one?” John blinked this time. “She killed Inlo?” Mannie shook her head. “Of course not.” John had a feeling there was quite a story behind that statement and he began to feel a bit uneasy that he’d slept at Gaia’s side that long night. If she was a murderer why hadn’t she finished him off? “Explain.” Mannie’s red-tinted lips thinned as she pressed them together. John guessed she knew she’d said too much. Mannie’s head drooped a little. Her neck wrinkled and John saw she was quite an old woman, in her eighties at least. “Lon Inlo was a very bad man,” she said softly. “And Toric Marlowe was a prince?” Mannie’s head snapped up. “My niece isn’t responsible for Toric Marlowe’s death. She had no reason to want him dead.” “What reason did she have for wanting Inlo dead?” Really, it wasn’t his concern but he was curious. “He was a brutal man and her friends warned her that there was a price on his head, a plot even. A dealer he’d cheated was planning an attack on their house. It would have killed her too, so she made arrangements. She didn’t deserve to die along with him.” “What kind of arrangements?” “Does it matter? She lived and he didn’t. He deserved to die and maybe Gaia should have made different choices but I assure you, Toric’s death was a shock to her.” He didn’t know if he should feel sympathy for Gaia or concern for his own neck. “Why did she run instead of fighting the Marlowes?” “She’s not important anymore, not the future mother of a Marlowe heir, or even a future governor’s wife.” “She’s discardable, in favor of hiding the guilt of someone important?” “I don’t know,” Mannie said. “She left her life here behind when she became Toric’s life. Her mother was entirely respectable before the coup, you know, unlike me. In the upper class here. Gaia had the manners and the style to get a husband like Toric. A husband like you would have been, I suspect.” “What do you mean?” Was she equating him to Toric? Why? She smiled. “My brother was involved in your rescue. He died from the wounds he received that night. I recognized you right away. Gaia was right.” John dug his fingers into his thighs. “About what?” “You’re Alexander Hofmann.” John felt the blood drain from his face. The woman was smiling, so that should mean she was on the right side. “Are you in the Resistance?”
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She shook her head. “I’m sympathetic, of course but I’m just too old. And Gaia was too young but she recognized you at the club. She didn’t explain exactly how she guessed but I ran the tapes. No one not from Aboo Nine would know our phrases. I haven’t known a culture under the Amalgamation to have an educational system like ours. Our whipping clubs are peculiar to us.” “So your family knew I had survived,” John said. “You knew I was out there somewhere.” “Yes. But my brother died soon after that horrible night and it took time for the Resistance to form. Even now, it’s a bit rudderless but things are getting worse here. We need change before we lose all our freedoms and the right to educate ourselves.” John fought to keep himself from asking more questions about the deteriorating situation here, from suggesting that he was the one to take charge. Gaia Marlowe was his concern along with his deadline. Besides, he owed Vonner. “Where’s Gaia?” he said. “Don’t you want to know what’s happened here in the past seventeen years?” she asked. “I’m a bounty hunter now. For now. And your niece is the bigger issue right now. If you want Gaia to survive, you need to hand her over.” “She’s a resourceful girl,” Mannie said, her expression hardening. “I think I’ll let her take her chances on her own. The Resistance will help her too.” “She’s going to run out of good luck,” he warned. “Let me help her.” “Why don’t you stay here,” Mannie said. “You don’t need to stay a bounty hunter. Join the Resistance. You could be governor of Aboo Nine some day.” John frowned. “I need you to understand. Your niece’s life is at risk. If she’s innocent especially, you need to persuade her to come with me. I can protect her.” Mannie said nothing. He stood and walked to Mannie’s sofa bench, towered over her. “I’m going to search your house. You can prevent me doing that if you just tell me where she is.” Mannie folded her arms across her chest. John pulled out his electro cuffs and fastened one cuff to the bench, then the other to the woman’s withered arm. “Your parents and brother are buried here, Alexander,” the woman said gently, ignoring the cuffs. “In a secret shrine.” He turned away, taking his laser pistol from its holster. “It’s near the spaceport actually. You can’t miss it. Two tenths of standard kilometer into the grove of blackwood trees. The shrine entrance is on the backside of the hill.” Fighting strong emotion and a wish to drop everything and go to the graves, he ignored her and started a circuit of the main floor after contacting BD and giving it a status update.
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Three hours. It took three hours to search the house but Gaia Marlowe wasn’t there. Maybe she never had been.
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Chapter Nine Cat and Mouse
The clock in John’s head was ticking loudly as he entered his ship. Seven more hours were gone. Thirty-nine hours were left before Vonner’s deadline was up. He slapped his gear down on his strategy-dining table and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Exhaustive house searches just weren’t his thing. He felt strung out, especially since so many thoughts kept fighting for room in his brain. He could have sworn he smelled oranges in one upstairs room but there was no sign of his quarry. “Hello, John.” AL-BD27’s head popped up from the floor. It must have been down in the engine room. “Everything okay down there?” “I had routine maintenance to do. Nothing much since you just had the repairs done.” And let Vonner pay for them. “You get results on the data reader yet?” “No. I’ll get you some food.” While AL-BD27 trotted off, John got himself a double serving of water and drank it down in long gulps. He hadn’t been able to stay away because of his curiosity about the data reader but he really should have searched Draco’s before Mannie had time to help Gaia escape, assuming she was still on planet. Mannie’s house appeared to have housed Gaia recently, as he expected. He’d found clothing that smelled like her, cosmetics, bondage gear. Gaia had been all around him since he’d set foot on this godforsaken planet. Now he just had to figure out how to take her off it. “Eat,” the droid said, coming back with some kind of protein blob on a plate. John took it from him. “Mannie suggested I join up with the Resistance.” “You have no ties to politic-c-cs here, now. In fact, if the present government knew where you were, you’d be in great danger. Rebels would form an emotional attachment to you, get you killed.” The droid was making too much sense. Surely Vonner hadn’t sent him here on purpose. But then, who was he kidding? Vonner had plans and secrets. And deadlines. Maybe Vonner himself had been bugging the ship. He probably had access to military equipment. He heard a beeping from the bridge and dashed across the floor to accept the communication. “Vonner here. You found the bounty yet?”
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Why did his boss sound so irritated when he still had most of his deadline left? “I found where she’d been living, verified her movements these past few days.” “But you don’t have her.” “No but I’m working on it.” “You’d better be focusing on the girl.” “I am, don’t worry. I’m just taking a break to eat.” “I’d suggest you get back into the field,” Vonner growled. “The Marlowes are threatening to pull the contract and give it to Peeg Hunts.” “They’ll kill her,” John said. He didn’t want her to die, he wanted to help Gaia escape the mess she’d found herself in—or created herself. “Dead or alive, John, that’s the contract.” He wanted her alive. Gaia Marlowe fascinated him. “Do you care,” John asked, “that the Marlowes themselves may have killed Toric? That she’s a fall guy?” “It’s better that we straighten it out here than in the Peeg’s morgue,” Vonner snarled. Right. He was right, of course. John couldn’t imagine all that luscious sensuality snuffed out, her cold, hard body on a slab for a bunch of rough killers to stare at, comment on, abuse. “I’m heading back into the field,” he said. “But people are starting to recognize me. Have you heard any buzz? Does the junta know I’m here?” Vonner was silent. Surely he hadn’t planned for this to happen? Was the wily company owner in the government overthrow business now? “Vonner?” “You’ve always had a chivalrous bent, John. If you want to be Gaia Marlowe’s white knight, you’d better find her and get her back here quickly.” “I understand. Doe out.” John replaced the receiver. No officials had bothered him so far. He’d have to assume he was still incognito to the government. When he stepped into the ready room, he saw BD coming up through the access panel in the floor with two tires. “What are you doing?” “We had enough replacement parts for your bik-k-ke for me to build a new one for you. It’s not as pretty but it will be fast.” “Thanks, BD.” The individual part colors didn’t match and it looked clunky, but it would probably do. As soon as the droid had finished its final adjustments, John rode down the ramp out of his ship and through the hangar. He felt an unfamiliar button under his hand and recognized a rocket launch. Cool. If he could keep from losing his bike this time he’d have some extra weaponry. 91
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The sky looked clear above the dome, so hopefully there’d be no repeat of the storm. The real problem this time appeared to be on the street. They were more deserted than usual and the people who did walk by were leaning together, speaking in hushed tones, not looking around. Something had happened in Nine and he hoped it wasn’t a sighting of him. At least no one seemed to be paying him any attention now. He reached into his vest and pulled out a replicated pair of sunglasses, just in case. The oval lenses seemed to change the shape of his face, giving him cheekbones. They might help. He parked his motorcycle in the same lot he’d used the first night, then went down the street to Draco’s Whip. The two tall female bouncers were back in front. This time he noticed their tiny leather bikinis had metal spikes above the pubic area and their black tattoos were of weapons, swords mostly, with long, curving blades. They were talking to someone wearing a pointed black hat and long robe. John recognized it as the uniform of a senior-level schoolteacher in Nine, at least when he was young. He crossed to the opposite side of the door, where the line was, hoping to avoid attention. There were six people in line ahead of him. He winced at the line, knowing he had no time to waste. Unless he wanted to scale the building from the back and try to find rooftop access this was how he got in. Less than thirty-eight hours left now. As he tried to blend in, he watched the couple in front of him, some androgynous sand-colored species dressed in the equivalent of embroidered purple towels and silver platform sandals. One of them had long fingernails covered with blood-red shields. As he observed them, the alien ran a nail shield down the uncovered shoulder of the other, drawing blood. John saw the cut alien’s eyes flicker then open, its pupils enlarged. The other leaned forward and drank from the wound. The cut alien made a strangled noise in its throat, almost orgasmic in its intensity and John watched as it raised its towel to reveal a hairless triangle of pale skin, ending in long lips. Clearly this was the female. Were the bouncers going to allow this? The couple in front of the alien couple, typical black leather-clad D/s space bums, jumped back as the male alien pounced on the female, pushing her back against Draco’s outside wall. The female made high, excited noises as the male raised his own towel. John’s eyes widened as he saw what the male was packing. His male rod wasn’t as long as some John had seen but the bulbous head must be double the human norm. He couldn’t see the mechanics but even he could translate the sound of satisfaction the female made when her companion grabbed her by the arm, whipped her around, then plunged into her female channel as she bent and touched her hands to the ground. John winced, imagining what that would feel like in his own virgin backside, though the female made a yip-yip-yai sound that could only be called ecstatic, not ten strokes in. He could smell a pheromone-filled musk rising from them and despite the species difference, it hardened his cock to an unbearable degree. Long black hair flashed into his mind’s eyes, dark almond-shaped eyes, walnut skin. Gaia. How he wished she were here right now, to slake his lust in her incredible body. 92
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The bouncers had finally noticed. One of them stepped forward but the other put her arm on the first bouncer’s shoulder. “It will be over soon,” she said acerbically. “It’s better to let that species finish.” One of the dominatrices in line sneered. “You aren’t going to let them in the club, are you?” The second bouncer shrugged. “I will if they’re on the list.” The female made the yip-yip-yai sound again. A second orgasm. Now even John’s balls were hard inside his trousers. The first bouncer glanced down the line. Behind John, two more couples had materialized, both wearing old-fashioned business suits. The bouncer’s gaze stopped on John though and saw right through his sunglasses. “You’re back,” said one of them with disfavor. He grinned his most ingratiating grin, trying to ignore his discomfort. At least, even in his extreme arousal, the bouncers weren’t looking good. He still had standards. “My friend from the other night, she put me on the list, right?” The second bouncer smirked. “I don’t think so. Go play somewhere else.” John’s hand went instantly to his laser pistol holster. The bouncer put a hand to her shoulder, as if one of those wicked tattoos might come to life and become a sword in her hand. He didn’t really want to find out. Attracting attention wouldn’t be a good idea. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll speak to your management about this later.” He stalked through the line, or at least tried to, glaring at everyone from behind his glasses as he made his way back to the garage. His legs were moving a little strangely because he had to widen his stance around his aching package. Now what? Time was running out. He remembered what Mannie had said about the shrine where his family was buried. Would there be members of the Resistance there? Maybe he could knock some sense into them and find out where Gaia was. When he climbed onto his bike he almost let out a high-pitched yelp of his own in the deserted garage before the cool bike seat soothed his overripe genitalia. But not enough. He couldn’t concentrate like this, much less ride. After looking around quickly, he moved the bike into a half-hidden bay, then undid his trouser tapes and took his cock in his hand, the other staying at his pistol holster. Within twenty jerks his cock had poured seed onto the floor of the garage. His head spun with the blinding force of his orgasm, Gaia’s face floating behind his dazzled retinas. Damn. Note retained to run the next time that particular species started its mating ritual. Those pheromones were fierce. He sat up, blinking and tucked himself back in one-handed. After his breath had slowed and his sanity was restored, he started the bike and left the garage, guessing the employees were laughing hysterically as they watched the security cameras. Or maybe
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desperate masturbation was a common sight, since they were located in the red-light district. As he went down the street, it seemed even emptier than before. Draco’s hadn’t seemed affected but two or three of the other sex clubs didn’t even look open. Then, five heavy-duty bikes went by fast, in cone formation. The people riding them wore some kind of armor. Military, he guessed. He kept riding, not wanting to appear like he was afraid of the riders. He should have checked the news before riding in tonight, though he couldn’t have expected something to be going on. Unless he had been recognized. He checked the sky but it was still serene above the crack he could see from this location, though it would soon disappear from sight as he got closer to the spaceport and its own separate dome. Before that though, in the lowering curve of the dome, he saw the blackwood grove. Blackwoods were indigenous to the once beautiful system of Aboo, before most of the planets had been deformed by crystolium mines. There must be eight hundred or more of the wide, thick-leaf trees here, more than enough to hide an underground rebel camp. The inky blackness of the tree bark seemed to create a mist around each of the largish trees and no undergrowth was evident except some kind of pale yellow grass. He remembered being scared of the blackwoods as a young child. The trees seemed just as large as they had when he was a boy. There were a lot more of them now. The forbidding trees had covered an area that was once a lush meadow, maintained for picnics. Once this area had been filled with happy families enjoying each other’s company. Now it was deserted and families hid behind the high walls of their compounds, their streets overrun by drugs, gangs and politicians. He rode his bike into the first tenth of a kilometer then got off and cut the motor. It wouldn’t be wise to leave the bike in the endless trees where he might either not find it or have it stolen but he didn’t want to announce his presence either. Above him, he saw a pair of long-beaked birds fluttering by. The first hint of clouds was starting to pass above the dome. The air was silent, watchful, cooler than in the city proper. For all he knew there was a rebel behind each tree. He pulled out his laser pistol. Now he had one hand gripped around the bike’s handle, pulling it along, fingers close to the rocket launch button, while the other was gripped around the pistol. He moved sideways, pointing the gun directly in front of his chest. It was getting hard to see, so he paused long enough to take off his dark glasses. The tree bark seemed to change the quality of the air somehow. The atmosphere was richer, darker. He wondered how old the shrine was, if this grove had been here long before the Aboolan War of 2112. The domes had been placed over the cities so that a human-friendly atmosphere could be maintained. Native Aboolans and some of the native flora and fauna could tolerate it as well, though he wasn’t sure there were actually any full-blood Aboolans left. They had intermingled with the human race, even the royal family.
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For now, he walked through the silent air making as little noise as possible. He was sure his presence was as loud as clanging bells to anyone around though, with the bike’s tires crunching through the grass. When he saw the hill, a grass-colored mound that rose about four meters high, he leaned the bike against it and tightened both hands around his pistol before walking cautiously around to the back. There was a three-meter break between the hill and the trees, as if they had been cleared away or the soil here was too poor to support more than grass. He guessed he was about two thirds of the way through the grove and it must go right to the end of the dome, or at least as close as the tall trees could get. Stop worrying about the dome and the trees. He pointed his pistol at the hill and stepped quickly to the back point. Nothing. He didn’t see anything different. Just the slope down and more grass. Was this an ambush? Had Mannie set him up? No one from the city would hear him. He pointed the pistol in all directions, then freed a hand and pulled his thiris free from his arm. It turned into a whip instantly, giving him a much longer range. The air was still silent. He strained his ears. Was there a humming noise or was that just his ears ringing? Once he’d been trapped on an uninhabited ice world looking for a serial killer and thought he’d be driven mad by the sound in his ears. This was different though. An electrical humming, like you heard in most civilized places, unlike the brain noise of total stillness. Where was it coming from? The city? The dome? His pistol? He put his ear to it, just in case. No. He stepped closer to the hill. Nothing happened. No one stepped from the murky trees. He quickly circled the hill, as close to it as he could get. The buzzing was definitely coming from it and it was loudest on the side closest to the dome, the back side from the direction he’d come. Something was inside, whether it was a funeral shrine or not. He slapped the thiris back on his biceps and began to touch the grass-covered hill. The door wasn’t hidden if you put your nose right up to the hill, he discovered. There was an obvious though slender rectangular crack. He felt around it, not finding the mechanism. Eventually he knelt and felt for the bottom. It was there, on his knees, that he felt the ground shake and a door begin to lift. Of course, it was supposed to be a shrine. He wondered who knew to kneel in front of the hill. Was it common knowledge locally? Behind the door it was dark and even cooler than before. He pushed his bike aside and held the pistol in a two-fisted grip as he stepped in. The door slid down behind him. Darkness overtook him, until… Phosphorescent pictures began to glow on the walls. They were portraits, mostly of people with copper to dark brandy-colored eyes, Aboo eyes, eyes that weren’t so different from his.
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As he stepped down the hall, the people in the pictures wore different styles of clothes, though a sort of diadem covered in black jewels rested on all their heads. Eventually though, even the crown was gone. These must be the governors who had come from kings, just as he was taught. At the end of the long hall he saw the only family picture. It was his family, together instead of separate like all the other glowing portraits. Because they were martyrs? He felt a crushing loss for his parents, his brother. He loosened his grip on his pistol, lifted a finger to the portrait and traced the outline of his mother, careful to keep from actually touching the substance. Stepping closer, he looked into her copper eyes. He pulled up his pants, his butt and thighs stinging from the rod his teacher, Mistress Joy, had just used on him. He saw the blackwood rod clatter to the floor as his mother knocked it out of his teacher’s hand. She was furious, he could see it in her reddened complexion, her bared teeth. “He’s too old for this,” his mother protested. He agreed but he didn’t mind it because of the tingling he got in his crotch whenever Mistress Joy did it. In fact, he was beginning to think his teacher liked it too. One of his buddies had pointed out that her nipples poked through her green jacket when she beat any of the boys. “It’s suitable punishment,” his teacher said calmly. “He was caught kissing Emee Tottori in the cloakroom.” He grinned at one of his friends who crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in a lewd gesture. Emee hid her face in her hands. He hadn’t meant to kiss her but she’d dared him. It had felt oddly nice, even if he was convinced girls were too silly to pay much notice to. But Emee had the softest black hair and it curled at the ends. It smelled nice too. He’d started to notice the mysteries of the feminine body at the birching pony too. He forced his thoughts back to Gaia. Her image blended into his memory of Emee. How much time did he have left now? Thirty-six hours? A spotlight went on over his head. “What are you doing here?” said a soft, disgusted face in his ear. He whirled around, disoriented, holding his pistol. Gaia jumped back, raising her arms, her long hair floating around her face. “Hey, it’s just me.” “Just you? Are you kidding?” He kept the pistol trained on her. “I’ve been chasing you for days.” She moved around his outstretched arms with a dancer’s grace, planted a kiss on his ear. “I had fun the other night. I guess I shouldn’t have told Mannie. Did my aunt send you here after me?” “Yes. You need to come to the Web with me.” “I’m not going back to the Marlowes. They’ll kill me.” She shuddered. “Let Vonner sort it out, Gaia. You’ll be safe.” “I don’t believe you. They’re too powerful.”
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“Xy-Three is politically insignificant.” John tucked his pistol into its holster. He wasn’t about to shoot this maddening woman. “They may seem important to you because you lived there but they’re nothing to the Amalgamation.” “That’s a lot you know. They have a secret treaty with the pocoJibs. They’re drug brokers across several systems.” “Oh,” said John, deflated. “Maybe not so insignificant. I knew I was missing something.” “You were missing me.” Gaia stepped closer again. John suddenly felt hot in the small passageway, like the temperature had ramped up twenty degrees. “Come with me,” he said. “We can fuck on the ship the entire way.” “I’d rather do it here.” She played with the tapes on his vest. More lights came on and he saw a familiar glint of metal. Ahead of them was a large room, with metal slabs set into the floor. To the right was his first bike. “You did steal it,” he said, dashing over to one of his prize possessions. He ran his hand down the bike’s length, checking for damage. It looked fine. He threw a leg over it and got on, testing the body. It seemed straight. “Going to take me for a ride?” Gaia asked, sidling up alongside him. Before he could stop her, she had straddled the bike in front of him, pushing him up to the passenger seat. She locked her leg over his, her mouth only centimeters away. He put up a hand in protest. “Look, you don’t need to sex your way out of this. It won’t work anyway. I’m taking you in no matter what happens.” “I’m living from moment to moment, John. I just want this moment, okay? You don’t know what I’m up against.” She ran her hands down his chest. “I’m not part of the solution,” he said. Gods but she was making this hard. She made him ache with desire. “Just fuck me. We’re on a bike, you won’t fall asleep. You can cuff me after.” “How about now?” He grabbed her arm, forced it back to the bike’s handle as he pulled his cuffs from his back pocket. She shouldn’t have gotten close. He locked one cuff around a metal bar holding the handle to the bike, then locked the other around her slender wrist. She grinned. “Kinky.” He could see the fear in her eyes, no matter what she said. Is this how she dealt with an abusive, drug-addled husband? Unfortunately, he had far from won the day. He couldn’t ride out of here with a woman cuffed to his bike like this. BD would have to provide backup, though how he wasn’t sure. “I need a minute,” he said, starting to slide off the bike. Her free hand snaked out, grabbed his crotch. “Come back here.” She leaned forward and he let her kiss him, though he kept a firm hand on his holster.
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Her lips were hot, her tongue hotter, as it pushed past his teeth into his mouth. He felt his soul shatter at the persimmon taste of her. She was even better than his memory of Emee Tottori. Her looks had been imprinted on his soul, a personal ideal. With a groan he unsnapped his holster from his belt and let it drop to the ground, pushing his other hand into her dark locks. He let her take his mouth a moment longer, then pushed his tongue into her greedily. His fingers dropped to her breasts. She must have been asleep when he arrived at Mannie’s house, run in only her sleep garment. Her firm mounds were unfettered under her simple tunic but he wanted to feel skin. He felt for the bottom of the garment, pushed up, feeling a sticky moisture on her thighs. It felt like warm honey, as he traced the fluid down the inside of her thigh and to the soft skin of her secret lips. Her mouth opened more under his and he felt her gasp when he ran his finger along her cleft. Suddenly she was writhing frantically, moaning. How had he managed to excite her so with just a touch? Then he realized she was trying to say something. He pulled his mouth away. “The door,” she gasped. “Someone’s coming!” He heard boots in the corridor outside.
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Chapter Ten Final flight
“Close the door,” she panted. “How?” “There’s a button right over there, next to the arch.” He jumped off the bike, righting it just in time before it fell over and crushed her leg, then lunged for the button. A rattling noise came from the arch, then he saw a sheet of metal begin to descend. The door was centimeters from locking into the floor when he saw a flash of laser fire. Thankfully it spent itself against a far wall, then the door shut. “Is there a back way out of here?” he asked. “There’s a tunnel that leads into Nine,” she said. “But we can’t take it out of here if I’m cuffed to the bike.” John glanced at the door. It was soundproof, making him wonder what was happening on the other side. How long would it hold? “Tell me what’s going on. Vonner said I had forty-eight hours left before your case was turned over to the Peegs. Admittedly that was close to a day ago but I should still have time.” He saw her shudder. The Peegs were notorious for their brutality. “I’m stuck with you, aren’t I,” she said. He made a quick decision. “I’m afraid so. I’m going to take the cuff off the bike and cuff us together. Then you’ll take us through the tunnel.” “You can’t. We have to climb down. Single file on a ladder.” He swore. “Then I’ll cuff you after. I’ll go down first. You can’t escape out the door because whoever is out there will kill you, right? Unless they are after me?” “I’m sure the local government would be happy to kill Alexander Hofmann,” she said. “But I don’t think they know you’re here yet.” “Then who is outside?” She locked his gaze with her own. “The Marlowes don’t play fair. They probably called Peegs as soon as they gave your boss forty-eight hours.” She would know. He unlocked the cuff from the bike, smelling her musk as well as her fear when he got close. Her chest heaved as she jumped off. “Can we drop my bike down the ladder shaft?” John asked, pushing it behind Gaia as she trotted toward the back of the chamber. “Why?”
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“If it survives the fall we could use it for a quick ride out of the city and back to the spaceport.” “Won’t they recognize your ship and blockade it?” “I’ll call BD and see. But I’m small potatoes. I’ve never come across the Peegs before so I might not be in their databases. You’re my first non-lowlife bounty.” She flashed him a twisted smile then bent down in front of a metal slab. With a horrified glance he realized that the slabs in the room were tombstones and the one in front of him had his name on it. She turned her face to him. “Don’t worry. It’s fake.” She pressed several of the raised letters in his name and it lifted from the ground, sliding smoothly to the left. “Hurry,” she said. “We have sixty seconds before it closes again.” John pushed the bike through the dark hole, hearing a watery splash a few seconds later. Gaia swore. “The tunnel must be flooded.” John glanced back, saw that the door to his family’s burial ground was smoking. He sent up a silent prayer for his ancestors. Would their shrine survive? Why hadn’t he been told about this place before? “We’ll have to risk it.” He dropped over the side, then stepped down a few rungs, testing them with his feet. They appeared to be metal and solid. “C’mon, put your feet on the top rung. I’m not going down without you.” She did so and he stayed close, so she had no chance to escape. “Is there another ship? Another bounty hunter you can call to help us?” she asked when he bent down to find the bike in the ankle-deep water. “No, no one is close enough,” he told her. “Hold on, let me call BD though.” Before he had a chance to touch his comm-unit, he felt a strong pressure on his back and he fell face first, banging his nose on the bike. By the time he righted himself, coughing and blowing water through his nose, she was splashing many meters ahead of him. He might be able to catch her on the bike if it was still operational but then the Peegs above might hear him and find the secret entrance to the tunnel. If they didn’t know about it anyway. If they were even Peegs and not friends of Gaia’s. But she was a mouse to his cat, not the other way around and he would find her in the end. He didn’t even have a deadline now, if the Peegs were already out there. Now, he just wanted the maddening widow for himself. After brushing water off his fake leather he started to run but it was hard in waterlogged boots. That was bounty hunting though, it wasn’t always glamorous. He wondered what his mother would think if she had known this would be her child’s future. It was funny to think that he’d once been the social equal of the Marlowe clan.
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And here he was doing their evil bidding. Not that Gaia didn’t have her own defenses. The tunnel smelled of water and some kind of native algae. At least it didn’t seem to be a sewage tunnel. Hopefully it wasn’t a freshwater conduit he’d now contaminated with his motorcycle. He just wanted to get Gaia off planet. The footsteps ahead had stopped. Had Gaia dashed into a non-flooded part of the tunnel or had she found an exit point? He slowed his pace, wishing he had a flashlight. It would not be a thrill if she attacked him again, unless it was in an attempt to finish what they’d started on his motorcycle. He contented himself with vivid fantasies of tying her to that spanking bench at Draco’s and having his way with her and a paddle until her curvy ass was pink and her pussy was weeping. There was no reason he couldn’t jury-rig a successful version of that fantasy onboard the Killer once he had her there. She’d probably even like it, since she must have gone to school on Nine as well, though not to the same school he did. Ping. He stopped, balancing on the balls of his feet. The noise had come from above. Damn, he wished he could see. He stepped forward again. Ping. That time it had come from below. He looked down and saw the water spreading in circles from a point to his right. Wait, he hadn’t been able to see a second ago. He glanced up and saw a drain covered by a grate. Water was dripping from somewhere above and coming down that way. Had Gaia gotten out here? He turned around, looking for a way up. No, there wasn’t a ladder. How would she have done it? He started feeling the walls. The north wall was jagged. A good climber might have gotten up this way if the hand and toe holds continued. He couldn’t remember what kind of shoes she’d been wearing. Wait. He saw a darker shadow next to the wall. He reached down, came up with a pair of black, wedge-heeled shoes, the only thing she’d worn other than the tunic. She’d done the climb barefoot. His admiration increased. He knew she had the muscle strength, even if he’d felt her body more than seen it. Luckily, he didn’t have to do this the hard way. He had a grappling hook on his belt, a standard-issue tool he’d decided to carry after his murder house fence experience. Stepping back a few paces, he aimed the hook at a point in the rock right below the grate and pushed the shooting mechanism. The hook rose rapidly into the air, trailing a thin, tough filament. When he heard it slam into the rock, he tugged. It seemed like it would hold. And he still had his leather half-gloves, so the filament wouldn’t destroy his hands. He made sure the filament was safely connected at his belt and wrapped one arm around it above his head, then depressed the retraction. Slowly, he rose into the air, holding Gaia’s shoes. Within moments he was hanging below the grate. How had she gotten out so silently? He pushed the grate and discovered that it actually tilted up, instead of having to be completely raised from its socket. Nice.
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Cautiously, he levered himself above the ground. No woman lying in wait. He was back at the edge of the city, though he could see the start of the blackwood grove. Where would Gaia have gone from here? He couldn’t be that far behind her but she knew the city. This time, he was getting reinforcements. His comm-unit crackled to life. “Doe,” he said. “I can see your bike,” AL-BD27 announced. “You’re not far from it.” “Gee, thanks,” John said sarcastically. “I know exactly where it is and it’s a goner this time.” “Your other bike has been moving but it doesn’t sound like you’re on the road.” Shit. The Peegs must have taken it along with its armaments. If he got this bounty at all he’d end up using it to replenish supplies instead of starting a nest egg. Wear and tear was one thing but Vonner wouldn’t hand over expensive weapons just for the hell of it. He started walking back toward the spaceport. Would it help if he took off for XyThree at this point, solved Toric’s murder so that it became clear that Gaia wasn’t implicated? If he couldn’t find her soon the Peegs were going to get her and he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be coming out of their holding cells alive. He didn’t want her to die. She made him crazy but he felt more alive with her than he ever did otherwise. There was an attachment there that he couldn’t explain, even if he were only a sexual release for her, a moment of peace in the storm of her life.
***** Gaia limped through the outskirts of the city, wishing she dared to head back to her aunt’s house or even to the club. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands were clammy and her feet were bleeding. She had to hide the cuffs still attached and dangling from one wrist. A terrible combination. If those Peeg bounty hunters found her, she’d probably stroke out at the sight of them instead of being able to run for it. She knew the access tunnels below the city, had played in them as a preadolescent after the coup when school had been suspended. However, there weren’t many of them. The tunnel she’d been in ended less than half a kilometer after her exit point. Why had she left John? It had been a desperate act, based solely on opportunity. One minute she’d been ready to give her body to him again, the next she was hitting him and legging it. She felt her shoulders shake and realized she was starting to shiver. Her tunic, meant for sleeping, was sleeveless and only went to mid-thigh. She’d been napping when John had shown up at Mannie’s and forced her to climb down a tree close to her bedroom window while he was downstairs. Instead of fleeing, she should have taken off the tunic and waited for him in bed. She could have seduced him there and
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explained her situation. He was a decent guy at heart, just like his late father. Surely he would have helped her. Maybe that was what he was trying to do, by taking her back to the Web. But dark things were said about Ulric Vonner, regardless of what John thought of his boss. After all, Vonner had taken a contract from the Marlowes. So she’d decided not to trust John, no matter that in a different situation she’d have been happy to get involved with the handsome hunter. Of course, she had terrible taste in men. She’d married Lon Inlo way too fast, well, not exactly married but close enough. He’d seemed charming and she’d have a chance to live a normal life instead of that of a mistress who considered her work to be more of a profession than a calling. A family trade. Then she’d gotten blood on her hands and it had changed her. Made her stop believing she had any right to personal happiness at all. Why had she ever married Toric in the first place? She’d known he was bad news from the first time she’d seen him. He’d pulled her onto the dance floor, a waitress working for a caterer to the best families in Marlowe 1. Somehow he’d guessed at the darker parts of her personality and it had drawn the bad egg governor’s heir to her. He’d helped her. Had she really been so naïve as to think that being part of a powerful family might give her influence to help change things on her own home world? She hadn’t had any personal power. She’d been a pretty, sexual toy when Toric was in the mood for that, or a mistress if he’d been in the mood for some humiliation play. Toric had some unpleasant tastes in the bedroom to be sure, but her years at Draco’s had taught her that there are all kinds of kinks in the psyches of sexual beings. Jogging now, trying to stay warm, she left the grove behind and moved toward the spaceport. She didn’t stand out here, her looks were common enough, even if she was half naked. Hopefully the Peegs wouldn’t see her. Mannie and her associates were friendly with a few of the smugglers. Some brought in recreational drugs and other illicit items but others actually supplied the underclass of Nine with needed medicine. Mannie associated with all of them, as long as they weren’t overtly evil beings. Gaia hoped she’d recognize one of their ships and be welcomed aboard. Smugglers had places where she could hide. Once she was safely off world she’d figure out what to do. She needed to go somewhere beyond the reaches of Vonner’s network, the Peeg’s network too. If there was any place like that. Her life was going to be very different now. No more hiding in plain sight where she thought no one would look. There would be no room in her life for Alexander Hofmann, or John Doe, or whatever he chose to call himself. So far, so good. As she looked back, no one was paying any attention to her. She knew the Resistance was focusing on power disruption right now and there had been periodic outages in the past three days. The population was keeping their collective heads down, staying close to home and not messing with any stranger’s business.
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She reached the airlock that separated the two domes, the old-fashioned composite plastic of Nine and the new energy field dome of the spaceport. Every resident had a code with which to access the airlock but she didn’t want to risk being tracked under her maiden name. It was still in the system. She darted behind vehicles until one large enough to shield her started to open the lock and she could slip through with no problem. It was almost as if Nine wanted her to escape and that was a good thing, because she was starting to feel downright ill with cold. She glanced back, saying goodbye to Nine with much less optimism than she’d had as a younger woman, then started working her way through the labyrinth of hangars. Unless the doors were open so she could see inside, her best bet was a ship’s pilot under discussion with Customs so she could actually see their ship, know if it were familiar to her. An hour later, she’d just about given up when she saw a ship belonging to a human transportation magnate who’d once been a lover of her aunt. This was his small personal ship but she was getting desperate. She had to get out of the open. She tracked it visually as it drove away from the spaceport proper and toward the hangars. Luckily, she even knew which one was his. Stepping behind a rental unit, she reoriented herself to make the dash toward the magnate’s hangar. A hand gripped the back of her tunic collar, choking her. Not now, when she was so close! She grabbed for the front fabric, trying to loosen it from her throat, then kicked her leg back, hoping to make contact with her captor’s kneecap. Her ploy was unsuccessful and she was jerked around. Her eyes met John Doe’s copper orbs, a dead giveaway to anyone in the know that he was a good part native Aboolan. “You,” she gasped. “Yes, Mouse.” “Don’t call me that,” Gaia snapped, forcing herself to hold her head high as she was dragged to the ramp. “I guess the game is over,” John said lightly. “I’m a cat who caught his dinner after all.” “Stop it.” “Are you having second thoughts?” “No.” She stopped. “Not about anything. I’m trying to get a ship off planet.” He waved his free hand at the hangar behind her. “Your chariot awaits, Mouse.” She jerked away, even as he grabbed her wrist and slapped the free cuff around his own wrist. He marched her around the hangar, to where one of the front doors was opening. She was stuck now. This wasn’t her idea of how to get off planet. Inside, she did see a ship. An older model but not in bad shape. A little small for a smuggler but it was probably fine for a bounty hunter, who was only transporting a person or two at a time.
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A ramp descended from the ship and she saw an Aboolan birth-droid step down. “Go back inside, BD,” John called. “Contact Control. We’re getting out of here.” “Ok-k-kay, John,” said the droid, turning back up the ramp. “Welcome to your home away from home,” John said to her. “Next stop, the Web.” She guessed she was out of options now. No more end-of-the-known-universe refuge for her. Unless she could sweet-talk Alexander-John during the journey. They had a few hours, right? Maybe she still had one last chance.
***** John forced her into the co-captain’s seat on the bridge, still keeping her safely cuffed to him. He wouldn’t feel secure until they had lifted off. “BD, please clean all weapons of any kind out of my cabin and lock them away.” “Yes, John.” BD bustled off. Alpheus wandered in and draped himself over John’s feet. “What a cute puppy,” Gaia said, glancing down. “Thanks,” John said, opening a line to Control so he could follow their instructions. He hoped the Peegs hadn’t found a way to keep him on-world. Control didn’t seem to care much about him. He knew they were mostly interested in goods here, rather than sentient cargo, so their lack of interest would be expected without outside influence. The Peegs were more brutal than organized. He could live with that. Gaia was silent throughout the proceedings and he was happy to ignore her. Once they were safely underway, traveling the lanes between the spaceport and the Smith Gate, he took the cuffs off and escorted Gaia to his cabin, where he locked her in. “Isn’t there a cell?” she asked bitterly when she looked at the small, neat space. “You aren’t going anywhere,” John told her. “You might as well be comfortable.” “I could hang myself with one of those sheets,” she threatened. He shook his head. “Never. You have too much life in you. You aren’t a quitter.” “I didn’t kill Toric.” She was pale, he finally noticed. He touched her arm. It was chilled but he couldn’t worry too much, he might lose focus. “Who are you trying to persuade?” “Can’t we go somewhere for a little while? Not the Web.” She smiled shakily, still seductive in distress. “No, you’ll be safer there and I have debts to pay.” Besides, she’d run again, given the smallest opportunity. She grabbed a data reader off his desk and threw it at him with a dexterity that caught him off guard. “I might as well be cargo to you, for all you care!”
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John caught the data reader. One thing he never had to worry about was his reflexes. “Vonner won’t let you die if he believes you’re unfairly accused.” A muscle jumped beneath her left eye. “How much do you know about him?” “Enough to believe that.” She put her hands to her forehead and pressed. “All the Marlowes need is one spy, one toady, to get into the cells at the Web and poison me.” “Is that what they did to Toric?” He wasn’t convinced she knew what had happened to Toric herself. Gaia sat down on the bunk. She looked deflated suddenly. Her tunic was limp and torn, stretched out so that it no longer hugged her luscious curves. John fought an urge to comfort her. For safety’s sake, he touched his comm. “BD, would you please lock my cabin door from the outside?” In a moment, he saw the sensor above the door go from yellow to red, signifying the door lock. “Why’d you do that?” she asked dully. “So you can’t leave the room, no matter what you do to me.” She sniffed, looking fragile. “Can I use your sonic booth?” He waved his hand at the unit in the corner. She went in, still wearing her tunic. The only thing sitting out other than his data reader was his brother’s whistle. He put it to his mouth, played a few breathy notes, remembering the playful six-year-old who’d idolized him. Eventually Gaia appeared, as if she were a snake called by a charmer with a flute. He wasn’t sure she’d get very clean leaving her tunic on but she did look a little fresher when she exited. He set the whistle down, watching her. “Thank you,” she said primly, then sat down on the bed next to him. “A clean woman is a happy woman.” “Who told you that?” He shook his head. “I don’t remember.” She pushed back her hair, now fresh and shining again. “Why did you come back to Nine?” He tried to ignore her seductive gesture. “I probably wouldn’t have taken the contract if I’d known you’d fled here. It’s not the safest place for me but now that I’ve been here, I’ve reconnected with my past. I’m ready to get involved now.” She toyed with a lock of her hair, starting a slim braid. “I think you were smuggled off world on a military vessel by a unit loyal to your father. I wasn’t much older than you so I don’t remember many of the details, even though my family was never on the side of the junta. But after that, you just disappeared.” “I survived because the assassins shot at AL-BD27 instead of me. I owe my droid, your uncle and his men my life.”
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“A droid would increase your value as a soldier. Kind of like having a squire in the old days of knighthood on Earth. Maybe that’s why your rescuers sent you to the mercenaries. How’d you end up a bounty hunter?” “Vonner rescued me after a battle.” Deciding to pretend this was a normal conversation, he tugged off his boots. He was exhausted and she’d slept by him before. “You must be wet too,” Gaia observed. “After the tunnels.” “That was a neat trick, climbing out the way you did.” She grinned. “We used to play there.” “Have you been happy back there, since Toric died?” “I’m not a mistress by nature. It’s a job. I’m good at it but I’d rather have a regular life.” “And you thought you’d have one with Toric Marlowe?” He couldn’t keep a note of disbelief from his voice. “I thought power would be nice. I’d never had any before. But I didn’t have any as his wife either.” Her tone became bitter. “I couldn’t even keep him alive.” “Did you love him?” John asked, pulling off his gloves. “No. But he was my husband.” “How did he really die?” “There was a party. I’d stayed home with stomach cramps.” She stopped. “Maybe I was poisoned too. I’d never thought of that.” “It’s been too long to prove if you were.” “I guess. Anyway, he collapsed at the party, about seven hours after he’d left.” “At first the press said it was from mysterious causes, then it was changed to a drug overdose.” “It certainly could have been but he had an amazing tolerance for drugs. However, my understanding is if a human or closely related species overdoses on a pocoJib drug, you die from a heart attack and that’s not how Toric died.” “Then what happened?” He watched her skin go a little pale. “He was in to pretty extreme sex, he and his relatives. That night they were having an orgy, which wasn’t unusual. Apparently he had one woman underneath him and a man behind him. He started bleeding from multiple orifices and collapsed. He bled out before they could get any help. But I doubt they called for help quickly, since they were all so altered.” “Which orifice did he bleed from first?” “Aedre told me it was his ass.” “Now there’s a woman who could poison,” John said. “She told me she’d gotten the best of you.” Gaia smiled faintly.
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“I think I’ll clean up now,” John said, not wanting to go there. Right before he entered the sonic stall he asked, “Who was the man in him at the time?” “Aedre said it was Babel.” John thought about it while the sonic waves cleansed him. Unlike Gaia he’d taken his clothes off so he could get completely clean. Had Babel put something on his cock that could kill Toric but not him? Was there such a substance? When the waves were finished, he leaned against the wall of the shower stall, trying to be analytical, never his strong suit. He poked his head out. “Did any of the orgy enthusiasts wear sheaths on their cocks?” Gaia glanced up from the bed. “Sometimes. So it didn’t get so messy with all the bodily fluids.” “So no one would have noticed if Babel had covered his cock?” Gaia shook her head. “No.” “Was the death scene treated like a crime scene? Was everything in the room taken by the local authorities?” “No. It was assumed that he’d overdosed. There were plenty of drugs there. That’s why I wasn’t blamed at first.” “Then later they decided you were a poisoner?” She nodded. “After the funeral. It was quite sudden, the accusations, I mean.” “Is there any way in which you benefited from his death?” “Only in that I was free of him.” “Had you expressed dissatisfaction to anyone?” “No. I wasn’t their equal, so I kept to myself for the most part.” John rotated his ankle. It was still tender but not bad. He changed the subject. “How did Lon Inlo die?” “He was shot.” “Have you ever poisoned anyone before?” He glanced out of the stall to see her answer. “No.” Her expression hadn’t changed. She had fluffed out her hair, so the curls puffed out gently, hiding her neck and collarbone. Gods, she was gorgeous. “So, the evidence is gone.” He pushed back the roughness in his voice. “I can believe Babel did it, because he wants to be the next governor.” “You heard?” she said with an edge of sarcasm. “But there’s no reason to blame you or any way to convict you, except you’re the outsider, the fall guy.” “Exactly.” “Did Babel ever contact you after Toric died?” “No.”
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“I wonder what would happen if he underwent Truth analysis,” John mused. “The family would never permit it.” She thought. “But I could undergo it, right? If I could get to an Amalgamation representative.” “It’s dangerous,” John warned. “It’s better than dying,” she said. “I feel much better now that we have a plan.” At her smile, John came out of the stall. He felt relieved that he could stop analyzing now. “You’re naked,” she said. He glanced down. “Yeah, I usually exit the shower this way.” She held out her arms. “We’re both exhausted but our brains are overheated. Why don’t we fuck the sense out of each other and try to get some sleep?”
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Chapter Eleven
Truth and consequences He raised an eyebrow. “You have the energy after all that climbing and running?” His cock certainly had the energy. It had jutted forward, swelling at the word “fuck”. Coming from her lips it was a better aphrodisiac than any pocoJib drug. “We might not get a chance again.” Her eyes were bright. He stepped forward, hoping this was the right thing to do despite the circles darkening her skin underneath. “You want me?” “I wouldn’t proposition just everyone.” It was good enough for him. He found the bed with his hands, crawled forward, then moved up her unresisting, warm body and collapsed on top of her. She fell backward, putting her arms to his shoulders. “Aaah,” he groaned, inhaling the skin at her neck. “You neck smells wonderful. I could sniff you all day.” The great thing about sonic waves was there wasn’t any smell of soap. They left you with just the scent of clean skin and Gaia’s personal flavor was delightful. She giggled and pushed at him. “I want my tunic off.” “You aren’t clean under it,” he protested. “The tunic is clean though.” He licked it, making her giggle further. “Mmmm, clean fabric.” “Jerk.” She pushed him off, demonstrating her nicely formed biceps, then ran for the shower. John let himself drop back onto the mattress, then sat up to watch appreciatively as she dropped the tunic to the floor before stepping in. The lady had curves. Her back had that long indentation down the spine that he loved and there were dimples above her jiggly, overripe butt. She had rounded legs that had a lot of muscle and her arms were lean and sculpted. Her blue-black hair cascaded down her back in glossy waves, moving with her, natural and lovely. Just before she’d gotten in he saw the curve of one breast, the nipple hidden by her arm. He’d noticed something dark on side, just under a plump breast. A tattoo? The sonic didn’t take long so he leaned back again, ready to take her weight if she chose to straddle him. He stroked his cock idly, keeping it primed. A minute passed. She didn’t return. He sat up, concerned. There was no way for her to escape from his room. What was she up to? She hadn’t propositioned him as a ruse, had she? He’d thought she wanted him and he felt his stomach turn over. Though cool as could be in battle, all it took was a woman to turn a man into a nervous wreck. 110
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He crawled off the bed and stalked toward the shower stall, wondering if he needed a weapon. But BD had removed them all. When he saw what was going on in the sonic stall, his jaw dropped. Gaia was splayed against the white wall of the stall, her walnut skin a beautiful contrast. Her eyelids were drooping and a serene smile flitted across her reddened lips. She must have been biting them. The tempting creature had one hand in her pussy and the other toyed with her left nipple. The right one was pierced and had a tiny gold loop hanging from it. Under her left breast, he saw she did have a fresh tattoo, an intricate knot, the Aboolan national emblem. He guessed it was evidence of joining the Resistance. He felt lightheaded as the rest of the blood in his brain moved toward his cock, giving him the biggest erection he’d ever had in his life. “I wondered when you’d get here,” she murmured, tugging at her clit. Almost without thought, John dropped to his knees on the hard composite floor of the stall. He pulled her hand from her honeypot and sniffed her fingers. His eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets at the fresh, musky scent of her arousal. He put his tongue on the pad of her index finger and licked. “If the pocoJibs could bottle this they wouldn’t need any other aphrodisiac,” he said. She laughed. “Suck.” John was happy to obey. He put his hands on her wide hips and pressed her firmly against the shower wall but also pulled her down a little so she had to bend her knees and spread her legs. “Perfect,” he growled, then rubbed his forehead against her belly. He used his teeth against the soft flesh of her lower abdomen, then down her shaved mound. The smell of her musk increased and he was sure her pussy was weeping its approval. She liked a little pain with her pleasure or how else could she have survived her life all these years? He bit lightly on her outer lips, then tongued her cleft. “John,” she whispered. “That feels so good.” He pursed his lips around her tiny nub and sucked. His services made her moan like a wild woman. She nearly lost her balance when her legs shook so she grabbed his hair, then his shoulders to hold on. He wrapped his fingers around her amazing oversized ass to hold her in place and released the suction. At her moue of protest he licked her clit, then again until she only made approving noises. After that he used his fingers, while he tongued her channel to feed on the honey her body made. He plucked and circled, pressed and tugged, until she came in a long shuddering gasp. Her entire body shook with the aftershock and he heard a bang as her head fell back against the wall.
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When she was finished, he licked her clean then stood, feeling a little unsteady himself. She pressed her head into his shoulder, resting her weight against him. He could feel her panting as she came down from her sensual high. She had excellent powers of recuperation. With a quick twist of her body, she had him face first against the stall. “You’re a talented man,” she purred, tickling his ear with her words. “Thanks,” he said, feeling the cool wall under his cheek. Then his eyes widened as he felt her long fingers curl around his unprotected balls. Uh-oh. “I’m going to give you as much pleasure as you gave me.” Her hands loosened from his balls and he felt a long finger slide up along his crack. He was finding it hard to breathe. Her fingers caressed his ass and while he knew what was coming, he didn’t know when or how hard. His cock felt close to bursting and he might very well embarrass himself during the spanking. But she was an expert mistress. He felt the tiny hairs in his ear stand to attention as she spoke again. “You’re not going to lose control of that cock.” “I’m not?” Now he was beginning to quiver, his mind sliding into the fantasy she created. “That’s my cock and it will obey me. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mistress,” he said, playing along. Anything you want. “Very good.” Expecting the conversation to continue, he was shocked when the first touch of her fingers came against his skin. She was drumming them against the fleshy part of his ass. It almost made him itch in a sensual way but he was careful not to move. Just when he was getting used to the drumming, she started cupping his ass, digging in just a little with her fingers, letting her entire hand cup him before letting go. Her pattern was irregular. He couldn’t guess which cheek would receive attention, or when. It made it all the more erotic. He fell deeper, living for each touch, each spark. Next, he felt a wave of air, then a solid thump on his ass. He jumped, unable to stop himself, as the sting caught up with him. “Damn,” he gasped. “Do you want me to stop?” was her steady reply. He swallowed. “No.” She continued. Somewhere in his brain he wondered what BD was thinking if it could hear the noise. His ass was really beginning to sting and he focused on remembering her words forbidding him to come but he was shaking now, sweating, finding it hard to breathe. Her hand was his only physical anchor in the world. She changed her movement again. Now she was striping his ass with the side of her hand, slowing the rhythm. He pressed his arms against the sonic’s wall but his muscles felt like the tendrils of a leather whip, limp and flowing.
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Soon, her fingertips were brushing him. He realized that his eyes had been open the entire time and he closed them, wishing he could live in this moment with her forever. Replete with the sensual overload of the spanking, he let her lead him back into his room. She sat down on the bed, positioning him in front of her. He was glad to stand, not sure how the bed would feel on his tender ass. “Can you see?” she asked, pointing to the mirror behind him. “What?” He craned his neck to see. “It’s beautiful.” She leaned forward and caressed his ass. He could just see the edge of his reddened ass, her walnut hand against it. “I’m glad you approve of my ass but you’re the beautiful one,” he said, turning back, looking at her face, so strong and vulnerable all at the same time. And his for all time, whether she knew it yet or not. She smiled again, open-mouthed now. “Are you ready for your reward?” His breath came harder. He hoped he knew what was coming but with her he could never be sure. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “Yes, Mistress,” he teased. He had been right. He closed his eyes in pure bliss as her soft lips closed around his pulsing cock. She bit his turgid head gently and he almost came then and there from the unexpected sensation of her small, sharp teeth. “Relax,” she crooned. How could he relax when every part of his body strained toward her? When her mouth came down around his cock though, he stopped thinking. Long strokes bathed his cock in the sweet essence of her mouth. He leaned into her and she took him, all of him, before breaking to nibble and lick him like he was a luscious treat. She never stopped smiling and neither did he. All too soon, he felt his balls begin to tingle. “I’m going to blow,” he said, his toes curling into the cheap carpet. She lifted her mouth. “Please come, my darling.” She sank her mouth down on him until he swore he was touching the back of her throat. He let out a low roar as he rewarded her with his full release, gushing his essence onto her waiting tongue. Vibrating inside her mouth, he made almost inhuman noises of pleasure from the sheer glory of it. By the end he was too limp to stand. Gaia released him from her mouth and putting her arms around his waist, collapsed with him on the bed, spent. They took five minutes of recovery time before Gaia’s warm hand was around his cock again, gently massaging it. When John opened his eyes it was to see her taking his hand in her free one and guiding it to her pussy. It was wet and he realized that she’d enjoyed pleasing him orally almost as much as he’d enjoyed receiving her sensual gift. “I’m sorry, I think I fell asleep there for a second,” he said.
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She bent and kissed his lips. He tasted himself but the flavor was overwhelmed by her musk, rising from her waiting pussy. “It’s okay.” She was a perfect fit for every sexual desire he’d ever felt, he realized, as his cock began to salute again. He was ecstatic, sliding his honey-dampened hand between her legs so that he could pull her lush bottom to him, settle her astride him. She took his cock in hand and guided him inside her, then she sank down on him until there was no space between them. He watched her use those strong thighs to ride him in a ferocious rhythm that soon left them panting. His ass was deliciously sore against the sheets, giving him a powerful double sensation as she rocked against him, orgasming before he was willing to let go himself. When her breathing slowed, he flipped her over and put his arm around her waist so he could pull her to her knees. He was so lubricated from their lovemaking that he slid easily into her almost unresisting pucker. She screamed as he pushed himself home, then flipped her hair back and bent forward so only her ass was in the air. Was it good for her? He wasn’t entirely sure and paused for a moment, his muscles straining. “Yes,” she sobbed. “More.” It was good. He reached for her hands to hold them but realized the minx had tucked one between her legs so she could pleasure herself as he pleased himself in her amazing ass. “I can do that for you,” he said. She moaned. “Next time, darling.” “Are you sure?” She pushed herself against him so he slid even deeper up her rear channel. “I’ve got a rhythm going.” Her voice was smoky and he knew she was close to another orgasm. Her body may have allowed him easy entry but it was hard to pull himself out far enough to plunge back in, since she was so incredibly tight. His heart felt like it was breaking through his chest as he felt her grip on him. “You’re mine, do you hear me?” he gasped. She moaned. He thrust savagely against her firm, rounded bottom, wrapping her long hair around his fist, amazed by the glossy texture. “You’re mine, Gaia. Now and forever.” “Yes,” she cried. “Yes, John.” Satisfied, he stroked down her scalp, her neck, with his fingers. Her tight little hole gripped him, sucking his cock in. “Mine,” he said again. Soon, he was overwhelmed by the demands of their mutual pleasure, sweating and thrusting and writhing against her as he felt her come again, heard her screams of satisfaction. He kept going, determined to milk every last sensation her body had to
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offer, until she came yet again, forcing his own release, allowing him to spill more cum than he thought his body could make, until he slid easily out of her incredibly welllubricated ass. “I love you,” she whispered. He stroked her hair in response, then dropped down on the bed sideways, pulling her against him so they could spoon. Her breathing slowed and he felt her relax, falling asleep, then allowed himself to drift off too. Sometime later, he awoke as the bed shuddered. He blinked, opened his eyes, then heard a siren above him. Pulling his arm from under Gaia, he saw a red light go on above his mirror. Next to his door the lock flashed green, indicating that AL-BD27 had opened the external lock despite his order. “Shit,” he gasped. They were under fire! Had the junta found him after all? Gaia, exhausted, still slept despite the lights. He couldn’t take the time to wake her and explain. Naked, he dashed out of his quarters and raced through the ready room to the bridge. AL-BD27 was at the controls. “I have the shields up but they’ve sustained damage.” “How much do we have left?” John asked, falling into the captain’s chair. “Eighty-eight percent.” John winced, rocking with the ship as they took another hit. “Seventy-two percent,” the droid reported. “How long until we reach the Smith Gate?” “Approximately seventeen minutes but the energy needed to hold the shields is slowing us down.” Always a problem with this model starship, John knew. He checked the sensors to see what was coming at them. Plasma cannon. Who thought they needed this much firepower against his little ship? Someone who wanted to destroy them quickly, he supposed. He knew it would slow them down even further but he had to give the order. “Go to stealth mode on my mark.” “John?” the droid asked. John ignored it and began to turn the ship, so that his own limited missiles could score a hit right before they went off the radar screens. He hit the button to start the sequence, then grabbed the control that would help him to aim. A screen dropped down in front of his left eye. “What class is the attacking ship?” “It’s a retriever.” John swore again. Peegs. “They’re using the plasma cannons so they can damage us enough to kill our fight, then tow us wherever they want. They aren’t trying to blow us out of space.”
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He locked onto the cannon bay on the rival ship. “One, two, now!” He pressed the release on his missiles, then BD took them to stealth mode. The ship jerked crazily, as it made the adjustment and began to zip around to the extent of its ability, to make sure it wasn’t where it had been before the mode started in case its rival kept following. “Drop shields to fifty percent to keep our speed up,” John ordered. BD made the adjustments while John checked his readout to see if he’d hit its target. At least the cannon had stopped firing, so something had worked. “How long to the Gate?” he asked. “Approximately sixteen minutes.” “Not fast enough. Decrease shields to thirty-three percent.” BD made the adjustments. “Thirty-three percent.” At that level they could only sustain one or two plasma cannon hits if the retriever had a backup but he’d have to take the risk to get them out of there. “How long to the Gate?” he asked again. “Fourteen, no thirteen minutes,” the droid said. “Continue evasive maneuvers.” He locked another missile into place, just in case the retriever found them again. Otherwise he didn’t want to give them away by firing. The retriever kept moving forward. “Plot an alternate route through the Gates,” John said. “Let them think we’re going to Xy-One, to the safe house, rather than to the Web.” “Done. But we’ll have to do five jumps instead of four.” “Maybe we’ll lose them,” John said. Retrievers were good trackers though. Since they weren’t yet in subspace, he contacted the Web and let them know what was going on, so they could be ready to protect the Killer at their destination if necessary. The retriever gave up at the Hikoi Smith Gate though and John didn’t see it behind him when they reached Secundus. “Cancel stealth mode,” he ordered. “Done.” They had a little cruising time before they reached Quartus Seven, so John went to wake Gaia and tell her to prepare herself for entering the Abyss, the holding zone on the Web. He also had to prepare himself for losing the best thing in his life, at least temporarily. Gaia understood his past, made his present a sensual delight. Dammit, he wanted a future with his sexy playmate too.
*****
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John had experienced a fantasy or two over the past couple of years about fucking someone’s brains silly in the highly secure lift into the Abyss but today was not going to be the day. Gaia had stopped speaking to him when she saw he really was going to take her in. Had she thought their love would make everything go away? He wished their new relationship was enough but the world still waited. He had a plan though. He wasn’t going to let her die for a crime she hadn’t committed, even though his methods would probably infuriate her. She belonged to him now though. He was convinced he could win her back in the end. In the cabin, while they’d been getting dressed, he tried to explain why he couldn’t run off with her, which had been her desperate suggestion but she hadn’t been willing to listen. He’d told her that she needed to trust him and left it at that. Time had run out. When they stepped off the lift into the Abyss, Vonner himself was waiting for them along with the usual droid guards. Two droids came up to Gaia. John stepped aside so they could cuff her. “Mrs. Marlowe,” Vonner said in greeting. To John, Gaia looked like she’d lost hope. The circles were still under her eyes after only a partial rest and the light in them had gone out. What had happened to her fire? He hoped he hadn’t been the cause of her new distress. Hadn’t his arguments made any sense? He wouldn’t abandon his woman, even if for now she had to be taken away from him. “Good catch,” Vonner said, turning to him. “I hear the Peegs were on your tail.” “Yes,” John said, his voice coming out in a near monotone. “We lost them at Hikoi.” Vonner tossed him a data card. “Payment in full, minus the repairs I covered before you left, of course. You can move your ship into the repair bay so that its shields can be refreshed, then I’ve got another contract for you. Be in my office at ten hundred tomorrow.” John felt his jaw clenching. “What about this contract?” “I’ll be contacting the Amalgamation about Mrs. Marlowe.” “You tell them to bring an Inspector,” John said. “She’s guilty and she has the right to have a Truth inspection.” “You’re hoping she’ll be released?” Vonner asked, the left corner of his lip curling up. “She was your contract, your paycheck.” John watched Gaia’s cheek clench. Good, she hadn’t stopped being angry. That meant there was still a fight in her. “The Amalgamation made the contract officially, so they’ll have to pay for her contract regardless of whether they have to release her.” Vonner nodded. “You’re right about that.” John glanced again at Gaia, who, he was proud to see, had her chin held high now despite the electro-cuffs holding her hands together. She’d found in her anger an inner reservoir of strength to get her through.
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“Did you ask for the inspection?” Vonner said Gaia. “You realize it can be painful and in rare cases can have side effects.” “I didn’t kill Toric,” Gaia announced, tossing her beautiful hair back. “And I don’t want to set foot on Xy-Three ever again, so yes, I’d like to be tested.” Vonner nodded. “I’ll contact the Inspector, then.” As a guard led Gaia away, John tried to smile at her. She nodded without expression. At least she’d responded to him but she was going to make him suffer when they met up again, he was sure of that. Thank the gods. Makeup sex was the best.
***** “Back to my usual bounties, huh,” John said to Vonner after receiving the data card with the information about his new contract. This one was a weapons runner working out of Mechderma. “Dead or alive,” Vonner said. “Yes, it’s the usual.” “I need to contact the Resistance on Aboo Nine,” John said. “It’s time to find out what the people want from me. If I can help them I need to.” “After you pick up this bounty you can go on leave,” Vonner said. “It will do you good to follow your normal routine for a few days. I could see this Marlowe case put a serious dent in your usual carefree manner.” John knew Vonner was joking. He was anything but carefree most of the time. But now that his childhood memories were starting to bleed through his everyday life he knew he couldn’t go on like he had been. “Has Gaia been returned to Nine?” he asked. Vonner shook his head. “The investigation started late and went later.” Vonner’s tone gave him no hint of the resolution. “She passed, right? Is she okay?” “She passed.” Vonner paused. “It left her a little disoriented. We moved her to the Medical Wing. Doc is taking care of her.” John stood so rapidly that his chair fell over backward. The crash rang through the conference room. “I need to see her. If she’s hurt I’m going to kill that Inspector.” His hand went to the laser pistol at his belt. “You need to get going,” Vonner said. “Rumor has it that your latest quarry is transferring a large cargo of tranq-rings and energy swords to a recently discovered primitive world. He’s going to upset the balance of power in the region.” “Not until I see her.” “Doc is taking care of her,” Vonner repeated in a dangerously quiet tone. “Return to your ship. I’ll send someone with news.” “I’m not leaving the Web until I see her,” John warned. “I hear you. Now get going.” Vonner stood.
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They faced off for a moment, staring at each other. Then Vonner nodded and John relaxed the hand at his pistol. He left the conference room. As he walked out of Vonner’s office, John wondered where his own tranq-ring had gone. He hadn’t seen it in quite some time. He’d need a new one from the supply handler. An hour later, he was at the Killer’s dock, going through a checklist of supplies that had been loaded for his new mission. Vonner hadn’t sent word yet and if he took much longer John was going to head to the Medical Wing himself. Gaia needed to know that he’d stand by her, no matter what it took to get her healthy and free. BD had gone aboard with Alpheus, who had received a new toy bone from his buddy Sealy, the assistant supply master. His puppy was happy, his droid was as happy as he ever was, it was only John who knew life was empty without Gaia there. He was happy to know his next steps. BD had told him that’d it’d been able to get his father’s data reader working with the help of Vonner’s techs. One of the files held a list of names, rebel leaders in the fight against the Amalgamation. Surely some of them were still alive and active. He could get them in touch with Aboo Nine’s Resistance leadership. Maybe the fight wouldn’t seem so helpless then. He’d have to be careful, since it was obvious that someone knew who he was and that someone had access to bug his ship but the risk was worthwhile to free his people. One of these days he’d find out who was bugging the Killer. He tucked away his checklist, missing Gaia fiercely. When had he fallen in love with the beautiful, dangerous widow? His heart had surrendered to her at some point during their intense lovemaking, though at the time he hadn’t known. But he hadn’t just fucked her, he’d given her his heart. A pricking sensation touched his neck, right on the carotid artery. “Hi, lover,” said a husky voice his cock recognized even before he did. “Gaia?”
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Chapter Twelve The way home
John realized that he’d just found his tranq-ring. “You might want to take that off my neck before it depresses the tranquilizer into my system,” he suggested. “I need to get home,” she said. “Maybe I should take your ship.” She could pilot? He grinned, knowing this was more proof that she was his perfect woman. “Maybe you should take me with you. Are you sure the Peegs have been called off?” He felt a fine tremble in the hand against his neck. “What do you think?” John stopped himself before he shrugged, just in case it made the tranq-ring inject its powerful relaxing agent into his neck. “Depends on how angry the Marlowes are.” He felt her lips against his ears. “Very angry, I would imagine. I need to go somewhere safe.” “Maybe you’d be safest on a ship,” he said. “I believe a plasma cannon of my very own got installed on the Killer last night.” “Explain why I need you on the ship with me?” she asked. “Because I know how to fire the weapons,” he said. She took his arm and turned him so he faced her, still holding the ring to his neck. “Is that the only reason?” “Because I love you too much to let you die?” he said. The finger with the tranq-ring moved away from his neck, then her arm dropped limply to her side. “You do?” He nodded, feeling a tight sensation in his chest. “I do, Gaia. I love you.” “You didn’t say you loved me back when I said I loved you.” “That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it.” She took an audible breath and he could see tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. He took her hand, slid the tranq-ring off and put it on his own finger where he knew it couldn’t be used against him. “Really?” “Yes. You’re a joy and mystery to me and we’re going to figure this thing we have out together.” He watched as a tear slowly drifted down her cheek. Another kind of woman might have used her tears as a weapon but not Gaia. She was tough. Her emotion was genuine.
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He wiped her face gently with his knuckle. “I’ll make you a home, somewhere. You don’t even need to marry me. I imagine you’re not a fan of marriage.” She inhaled, her nose sounding stuffed. “But I’d want you to stay.” “I haven’t had a home since I was ten,” he warned. “I’m a drifting kind of guy with a dangerous existence.” “I’ll come with you,” she said. “I know there’s room for me on that ship of yours.” He grinned, exactly what he wanted. “I could use a first mate. BD has its hands full as it is.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Behind her, Sealy hooted as he walked by holding a box of new electro-cuffs. “I’ve got a new job,” she called at the grinning assistant supply master. “Congratulations!” He nodded his head at them before disappearing down the hall. “I guess you’ve accepted?” John asked. She gazed into his eyes, Aboolan eyes, with a more serious expression now. “Yes, I’ve accepted you. Are we going to fight the Amalgamation and its junta toadies together?” He pushed her hair back from her shoulder and kissed her neck. “Now I know you love me. You’re taking my enemies as your own.” She had family to avenge too, he knew. Just one more thing that made them a perfect match. She tilted to give him better access. “Oh, John,” she breathed. “We’re going to be so happy.” “And when we’re not?” John asked. “We’ll figure things out and recreate ourselves. I’m giving you all of me, in a way I never did before. No secrets, no lies.” John reached behind her knees, careful to keep the activated tranq-ring away from her skin and lifted her up, then walked up the ramp onto his ship. AL-BD27 stood at the top, waiting for them, with Alpheus barking excitedly in the droid’s arm. They were home.
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About the Author Anh Leod is a goddess-in-disguise who hopes readers will enjoy her romantic, erotic stories as much as she enjoys creating them. Her favorite things are love and chocolate. She writes about love because, after all, it’s awfully hard to write about chocolate all the time. She also writes as Heather Hiestand for Cerridwen Press. Anh welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Anh Leod Aphrodite’s Necklace Bijou’s Bond Lucky Number Seven
Also see the author’s stories at Cerridwen Press, written under the pen name Heather Hiestand: Cards Never Lie One Juror Down
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