THE PRIZE: BOOK TWO - RETRIBUTION (3 page)

“I'll take it from here Moody.” A deep baritone voice called from across the room. The drunk wasn't sprawled across the table anymore, but sitting back and watching the proceedings from the shadows, as were the rest of the patrons.

“I can handle this kid and his bitch, Mr. Brody.”

“Who are you calling a bitch?” Ellis lifted her weapon higher.

“Can you?” Brody asked. “She seems to have the drop on you.”

“Mr. Moody is it? I would strongly suggest that you apologize to this young lady. She really, really hates being called a bitch by anyone except me, and then only on certain occasions, and especially not by a bottom feeding lowlife scum like you.”

“You little punk…” Moody spat.

“Moody!” The drunk's voice whiplashed across the room. “That's enough.”

In one smooth movement, the man once sprawled helplessly across the table, was out of his chair and striding across the room. Brody moved between Moody and Ellis’ weapon, hands up, palms out. Not that it fooled Penn or Ellis. People like Brody didn't need a weapon in their hands to be deadly.

“I could take him…”

“Moody, if you got up last Sunday and drew a weapon you couldn’t take him. Before your weapon cleared leather, either one of them could probably shoot everyone in this room before getting around to shooting you full of holes.” He spoke slowly, his voice mellow and completely at ease. Penn indicated the opposite chair with his eyes. Brody nodded and pulled it out and slid carefully into the seat. “Go get a drink, and take the others with you.” He ordered.

“Yes, Mr. Brody.” Moody eyed Penn and Ellis angrily. He shifted carefully backward, keeping his eyes on them until he reached the bar. At that point, Penn dismissed him and the rest from his conscious mind and concentrated on Brody.

“So, you have something to sell?” Brody asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I might, depending on the price.” Penn answered carefully.

“And what might that price be?”

“Before we talk business, I’d like to know who I'm talking to.” Brody nodded in agreement. The weapon the girl was holding a moment before vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“I'm Max Brody, and I run this part of town. I use the word 'town' loosely, of course.”

“Of course.” Penn smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “My name is Penn, Richard Penn.” He let the statement stand without any additional information. Brody seemed to consider the name for a moment.

“Was a guy by that name running around down south a ways that put a lot of hurt on the Imperials?”

“Was?”

“Yeah, but I also heard he got whacked by IMPSEC about ten years back, so you can't be him. You his kid?” Penn shook his head. Suddenly Brody tightened up.

“Don't bullshit me kid… I know a line of it by the look and smell!”

“Guess you would, living in this shit hole.” Ellis shot back.

“You've got a smart mouth as well b….” he hesitated, “…lady.”

“It comes from spending too much time hanging around with this juvenile delinquent.” Ellis nodded her head towards Penn.

“I'm betting you're IMPSEC infiltrators, or spies.” Brody mused, seeing Penn smile.

“You wish you were that important to them.” Penn looked around the room for a moment, then out through the dirty windows in front. “I doubt the spy sat missed anything going on here. If there were something here IMPSEC was even remotely interested in they'd turn this place into a parking lot.” Ellis added, seeing Brody shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Now that they’re gone, I suspect you’re branching out.”

“You seem to know a hell of a lot about what IMPSEC might, or might not be interested in, and what they'd do if they were.” He was starting to feel like Moody, a little out of his depth. Everything the kid was saying was true. The damned satellites saw everything, so killing them wouldn't do much good. If they were spies, and the Imperials were still here, the moment their life sign monitor went dead, IMPSEC would bomb this place flat. “I guess they know you're here as well…”

“What unit were you with?” Ellis cut in.

“What?” The question caught Brody and Richard by surprise.

Penn kept his face impassive, but he could see by the narrowing of Brody's eyes that the question had set off his warning alarm. Brody sat back in his chair, not sure what to do. These two knew a damn sight more than they should.

“My unit?”

“You should remember to change your boots before you play the drunk.” Brody couldn't help himself. His eyes darted down. Damn! The girl was right. He was still wearing his jump boots, but why would she notice something like that?

“So that's how you pegged me.”

“That and the fact you don't smell like a drunk.” Brody nodded. Those were things an ordinary man wouldn't notice.

“I was a major in the 101 Airborne.” He said at last. “Along with a few thousand other guys, so what?” Penn felt Ellis grip his thigh.

To anyone else it would look like nothing more than an intimate gesture between boyfriend and girlfriend. It told Richard this man was connected to Ellis somehow. He thought for a moment about what she'd told him about her life here, before joining the Imperial Military but nothing came to mind.

“And you were stationed where?” Ellis asked.

“An odd question.” These two knew more than they were letting on, a lot more. Brody's eyes flicked over to the girl, then back to the man calling himself Penn. Penn almost winced as Ellis dug her fingernail into his inner thigh.

“Brody! That wasn't your name before…” Ellis hissed.” …it was… Marks! General Clayborn Marks.” Brody came half out of his seat in shock, reaching for his weapon.

“What the hell! How did…” There was no way IMPSEC could know that. General Clayborn Marks had died in the attack on the base.

“It was you! “ Ellis whispered, a sheen of perspiration on her upper lip.

“What… what was me?” Brody stammered. Suddenly feeling trapped.

“It was you that put me into the culvert and told me to run.” Brody froze. In a flash, it all came back to him, the night attack on the base, the rape gangs, and the slavers coming through the gate.

He'd personally killed the son-of-a-bitch who’d opened the gate for them. They’d fought, god, how they’d fought, but there were just too many of them. He kept pulling his people back into tighter and tighter circles as he lost men, until there was literally nowhere else to go. He remembered the girl, a lovely auburn haired girl, screaming in the hands of a slaver. He'd ripped the man's throat out, and stuffed the sobbing girl into a storm water culvert, screaming at her over the gunfire and explosions to run and hide. He knew he couldn't stop them, but he might be able to delay them for a while. Maybe long enough to give the children a chance to escape and they did. They'd fought for an hour or more after that, losing track of time until something hit him in the head and he sank into merciful oblivion.

“You can't be her…” He looked again, trying to see the girl inside the woman. “God, she'd be thirty something by now.” Clayborn Marks sat down again, but leaned forward with his hands flat on the table as if to stop his little world from turning upside down.

“I always wondered if I'd ever get a chance to say thank you.” Ellis reached across the table to take his hand, but Marks jerked it back.

“No… you couldn’t be her!” He felt oddly betrayed somehow.

It couldn't be her. This was some IMPSEC trick. It had to be… maybe to help them track down the rest of the kids? No, that didn't make sense, not after all this time. If Ellis was hurt by his rejection, she didn't let it show. Imperial Military Service had taught her the importance of hiding her real emotions.

“If you're who you say you are, prove it,” he growled, not bothering trying to hide the anger in his voice. He was torn between two conflicting emotions, the hope she was who she said she was, and the fear that this was some kind of IMPSEC trick.

“And how would I go about doing that?” Ellis asked as Clayborn Marks thought for a moment until one question sprang to mind. All he had to do was ask her something the young girl in the culvert would never forget.

“And who might your grandfather be?” A simple question, but one with a complicated answer. She smiled, and he knew that she knew.

“He's not really my grandfather. He's… he's my adopted grandfather.” Marks face remained blank, giving no hint to whether she was right or wrong. IMPSEC might know, not that there were any official records as such. He'd made sure of that, personally destroying everything, electronic and paper. If anyone survived the attack, besides himself that knew, they'd only know half the story.

“And what was his name?”

“Chief Tommy Standing Bear, War Chief of the Chiricahua Apache nation.” The words seemed to catch slightly in Ellis’ throat. Penn knew her well enough to know that it was pride that caused it, pride in the man she called grandfather.

General Marks took a deep breath, feeling as if his whole world had just turned upside down despite him trying to hold it down. He took a fresh look at the two, still suspicious. It was in his nature to be, that was what had kept him alive for so long.

“You might be wondering if this is an IMPSEC, or military Intelligence trick of some sort.” Richard spoke out aloud exactly, what Clayborn Marks was thinking. Penn slid the box across the table. “As a gesture of good faith.”

“And this is supposed to prove what?”

“Just that this is only a fraction of what I can get my hands on.” Marks looked at the box for a long moment. “You in the market for several tons…” Penn said. “Sorry, several thousand tons of the stuff?”

“So?” General Marks didn't know what else to say. No one had that much Cg material available, not even the Imperials, it was impossible.

“I have a planet covered in it.”

“Now, I know you're lying. You only get…”

“…contra-gravity material in the photosphere of a brown dwarf. I know. I've heard it all before.” Richard finished for him. Marks felt his mental compass spinning again.

“This is going too fast for me.” He growled. “Just what the hell do you two want?” The young man grinned at him. And that, coupled with his eyes was a scary thing.

“What I want is your help in building an army General.” Penn made it sound as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Now the whole setup in the bar fell into place. This wasn’t just some no account saloon in a rough part of town, this was a military unit. He was betting the barkeep was a senior NCO, maybe even a Gunnery Sergeant. The rest of the patrons were probably Marines, or the remains of the Generals staff. Even Moody and his men, betting Moody was a lieutenant at least and just liked to play the role of an intimidating gunfighter. General Clayborn Marks let out a long sigh.

“Oh hell! You would have to go and say something like that.” Marks grumbled. “Just when I was starting to think I might live to a ripe old age, along come two starry-eyed kids who want to go save the fucking world!” He was too old for this shit, way too old. After a long moment, Mark's let out another long sigh.

“So what do you want me to do first?” He said at last, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Chapter Two

Telluria Prime.

Director Markoff leaned back in his contoured chair, feeling it adjust to his new position as he looked at the balding academic at the other end of his overly large office desk. Anywhere else, the desk would have been a conference table. The psychological aspect of the table was lost on most, suggesting as it did the huge gulf between the people at each end. As the Director of Imperial Security and Intelligence, he sat in the enviable position of being the second most powerful being in the Empire next to the Emperor himself. The smooth, lemony yellow, parchment-like skin of his face showed no emotion and most doubted he had any. Those that did were dead, and told no tales.

“It was good of you to come at such short notice, Professor Veolan.” The balding Professor looked nervous, as most knew that a summons from Director Markoff usually meant they were in trouble, deep trouble, even a low level Var.

“I… I came as quickly as I could, Director.” The Professor wished he hadn’t received the summons at all, resisting the urge to pull out a handkerchief and wipe his brow.

The sensitive detection system buried in the surface of the Tar wood table told the Director all he needed to know about his visitor’s state of mind, and his truthfulness. They were well within the parameters of what he expected, and sufficient for the upcoming interview. Keeping people on the edge had its advantages, but in this case, abject fear wasn’t what he wanted.

“Let me reassure you, Professor Veolan, this is nothing more than a polite discussion, and there is no need for alarm.” His instruments flickered slightly, showing a decrease in tension.

“I’m so glad. I thought for a moment I might have… that is, that I’d done something wrong.”

“Not at all. I merely wanted to discuss certain aspects of your specialty in private.”

“I see.” Not that he did.

To a certain extent, he lived and worked in the rarefied atmosphere of the academic world on social profiling, and psychological motivation that had little to do with the real world around him. It also helped isolate him from the more distasteful aspects of imperial politics and daily life of the capital, and especially IMPSEC and its Director. His main concern in life was surviving the constant jockeying for fellowship grants and ensuring his tenure at the university.

“Would you care for a Kaf, Professor?” It was nothing more than a means to put the Professor a little more at ease.

“Um… yes, I would… if it’s not too much trouble that is.” The Professor answered, a little taken by surprise. Director Markoff wasn’t known for treating his visitors with such social pleasantries.

“No trouble at all, Professor.”

Director Markoff sent the command by mental relay through his computer systems, and a few moments later a door opened and a slave arrived with a tray bearing a carafe of Kaf, cups and sweetener. Director Markoff looked at the slave with a certain degree of distaste, silently cursing Richard Penn for stealing all of the beautiful young Earth slaves the palace had before… Markoff pulled his mind back from going down that thought path again, and brought it back to the interview at hand.