Tsar Wars: Agents of ISIS, Book 1 (21 page)

Natalia yawned and stretched, then sat up.
Even a couple hours’ sleep had done her worlds of good. “Today we
find a ship, right?”

Eva smiled and nodded. “Today we find a
ship,” she agreed.

* * *

They walked down the street in the early
morning sunshine. Without her artificial leg, Natalia’s gait was
somewhere between a shamble and a lurch, like some mad scientist’s
deformed sidekick. The girl was obviously very self-conscious about
it, but Eva paid it no attention, not even pressing the young woman
to move faster even though time was growing short. Once she asked
whether Natalia was cold in the chilly breeze, but the girl
commented that this was a spring day compared to the Moscow winters
she was used to.

“What we need to find,” Eva said as they
walked along, “is someone who can get us through the blockade
around Earth.”

“Are you sure there is one?” Natalia
asked.

“Definitely. If the rebels haven’t put one
up, the Navy certainly will. Maybe both. We need someone who can
find his way through the holes—a smuggler, preferably, but I’ll
settle for a pirate if we have to. Smugglers are probably more
trustworthy.”

“Where will you find one?”

“Well, they sure don’t advertise on the local
web. You might think they’d be at spaceport bars, but these guys
don’t usually use official landing fields. I checked the local grid
while you slept, and there seems to be an area on the west side of
the city just full of shady dives. We’ll try there.”

“I can’t go into bars,” Natalia said. “I’m
too young.”

Eva smiled. “The places we’re going won’t
rigidly enforce the age limits. I doubt they’ll rigidly enforce
anything.”

“Won’t two ladies stand out in places like
that?”

“Two ladies might,” Eva said. “But that’s not
us. We’re just a pair of hookers.”

Natalia stopped dead in her tracks. Her face
was suddenly brick red. “I don’t … I can’t—”

“Of course you don’t, and you won’t,” Eva
said soothingly, stopping and turning to face her. “We’re a sister
act; we only work together—and if anyone asks, our price is way
higher than they can afford. If anyone approaches you, just hand
them off to your big sister who handles all the arrangements.”

“I don’t even look like—”

“Nichevoh,” Eva repeated. “I can look slutty
enough for both of us.”

Natalia seemed to be calming down a little.
“No one will probably even want a cripple like me.”

Eva smiled. “Oh, you’ll be surprised at the
fetishists you’ll drag out of the woodwork. But don’t worry, big
sister’ll protect you. Now come on, we’re wasting time.”

Over the next four hours they tried three
different bars without finding what they needed. It didn’t matter
that it was early morning; spacehands worked—and drank—on a
round-the-clock schedule. But there didn’t seem to be any ships
available. Or at least, none that were willing to go toward Earth
given the current political uncertainty.

The bars were all uniformly dark and dingy.
They all reeked of alcohol, sweat, and a dozen different kinds of
smoked substances. Eva moved around as though she’d been born in
that environment. She moved with ease and a confident swagger, her
body wiggling suggestively, her smile knowing, her eyes continually
promising. Men’s hands pawed familiarly over her and she never
discouraged them—but at the same time, the situation never became
threatening.

By contrast, Natalia felt increasingly
claustrophobic and shrank away from everything. She tried not to
let anything touch her body, lest the dirt and the smell rub off on
her—and even so, she wanted desperately to take a shower and wash
off the contamination.

She was very surprised to find that Eva had
been right—a lot of men were eying her, and more than a few tried
to approach her. True to her word, Eva always headed them off, but
Natalia felt increasingly confused. Eva was beautiful by any
standards; why would so many men prefer to approach a plain-looking
underage cripple instead? It made no sense to her.

It was already midafternoon by the time they
reached the fourth bar. Natalia was becoming very depressed. Not
only were they no closer to gaining transport to Earth, but the
dreary atmosphere of these places was dragging down her spirits.
After nearly throwing up at the stench in one of the restrooms, the
girl made a silent vow to hold everything in for the rest of her
life, if need be, rather than visit another one.

Eva, though, refused to give in to despair.
“Each
schmo
we reject,” she said, “brings us that much
closer to the one we want.”

As Natalia looked around the fourth bar, she
could still see no difference between it and any of the others. The
clientèle were mostly men, though there were a few more women; not
just prostitutes, but some who were actually spacehands. The
lighting was every bit as dark, the walls were equally grimy, the
noise was equally raucous, the smell was just as bad.

But a quick inspection made Eva seem to perk
up. She pointed to one man sitting alone at a table in a corner,
with his back to a wall. He was eating a meal as well as drinking,
but his eyes never stopped scanning the room. He saw Eva point to
him, and gave her special notice.

“I want to talk to him alone for a few
minutes,” she told Natalia. “He reminds me of my uncle.”

“The one with the artificial hand?”

“Da. Doesn’t look a thing like him, but
they’re exactly the same.”

Eva went over to the man’s table and sat down
before Natalia had a chance to ask what she meant. The girl didn’t
like being left alone in a place like this. It felt as though all
eyes were suddenly on her. She’d grown used to that after many
public appearances—but these looks weren’t friendly ones. They were
more … hungry,

She sat down at a table by herself, but
people were still glancing at her. One man started walking in her
direction, so she stood up again and walked away. She kept glancing
over at Eva, who was deep in conversation with the man she’d
spotted. Once Eva looked up to see her and pointed at her. The man
looked over and studied Natalia intently, then went back to talking
with Eva.

After an eternity and a half, Eva looked up
at Natalia again and beckoned her over to the table. Natalia fought
the impulse to run to Eva’s side, and instead walked with as
dignified a limp as she could manage.

As she approached she took a closer look at
the man. Although he was sitting down, she could see he was short
and wiry. His salt-and-pepper hair was close-cut and unkempt, his
clothes were badly rumpled as though he’d lived and slept in them
for a few months, and his skin was tough and leathery. He had a
three-day growth of beard. In any dictionary, his pictured would be
placed beside the word “grizzled.”

“Nata, I’d like you to meet Captain Bill
Fortier. Captain, this is my kid sister Nata.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Natalia said with very
formal reserve.

The captain just grunted. Even without
opening his mouth, Natalia could smell alcohol on his breath.

“The good captain specializes in the safe and
rapid delivery of problematical cargo,” Eva continued. “He has
graciously agreed to take us to Earth. He says he can get us there
in time to see our dying mother.”

“Don’t normally carry passengers,” the man
said, scratching his cheek. “But you’ll be less trouble’n lots of
other stuff I’ve hauled.”

“And I promised him a nice bonus for safe
delivery,” Eva added. “Provided we can leave right away.”

“Just gotta call for new supplies,” Fortier
said. He stood up and walked out of the bar, already looking to his
wristcom.

Natalia leaned forward to speak quietly with
Eva. “Are you sure we can trust this man?” she asked. “My teachers
always tell me a tsaritsa can’t afford to trust anyone.”

“You can trust everybody,” Eva said. “It’s
just a matter of ‘how far.’ Everyone balances risk versus reward.
In his case, the reward is thirty thousand rublei.”

“More of my jewelry?” Natalia sounded
dismayed.

“Relax. Your jewelry’s not worth that much on
the open market today. I had to tap into my personal account, thank
you very much. Lucky thing I’m a headliner.” She paused. “Although
you’ll have to pay me back, plus chip in for the other forty
thousand I promised him on safe delivery.”

“Seventy thousand rublei?” All her life
Natalia had never had to think about money. Now that she suddenly
had none, the prospect of spending so much was frightening.

“Relax. You’re the richest woman in the
universe. It’ll be petty cash when we get you back on the throne.
And if we don’t it won’t matter, will it?”

A few moments later Fortier returned with the
news that his suppliers had agreed to deliver his supplies to the
ship at its “out of town” location. “Isn’t your ship at the
spaceport?” Natalia asked.

Fortier chuckled. “I don’t deal much with
spaceports,” he said. “All them rules and forms and fees. I come
and go more informally, as it were.”

Fortier drove them well out of town to a
small field surrounded by tall trees that hid it from casual view.
The supplies hadn’t arrived yet, so the captain took them inside
and showed them to their “quarters.”

The ladies would be spending the trip living
in the large, cavernous hold that would normally have been filled
with crates of merchandise. Fortier had thrown in a couple of ratty
old sleeping bags that smelled heavily of sweat. He had his own
cramped sleeping quarters up by the control room; a one-person
galley and a tiny head completed the facilities. The ship had a
derrick that folded away into its hull for loading and unloading
cargo. There was no other crew; Fortier handled all the duties
himself.

The women waited in contemplative silence as
the captain bustled about, getting his ship ready for its flight.
After a while the food, fuel and other supplies arrived, and
Fortier spent more time getting it all stowed away. Eventually he
announced they were ready for take-off, and the two passengers
braced themselves for a rough time. The lift-off was surprisingly
gentle and smooth, though; despite the gruff exterior, Fortier had
a delicate touch with the controls. Within just a few minutes they
were spaceborne, and on their way to Earth. The captain had even
planned their ascent so well they weren’t noticed by the rebel
craft circling the planet.

Now they had nothing to do but await their
arrival on Earth. The women kept to themselves, and thee captain
had plenty to do as a one-man crew to keep himself busy. With
nothing to read and no other way of entertaining themselves, the
two women spent a lot of time talking. “How long have you worked
for ISIS?” Natalia asked.

“Never,” Eva said honestly. “Technically I’m
not even working for them now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my parents and my uncles were top
secret agents, and I got a lot of information from them. But Nkosi
Wettig’s no longer commissar of ISIS, and I’m not being paid. I
just volunteered out of duty to the throne. In ‘real life’ I’m just
a lowly vaudevillian.”

“What’s that?”

“An entertainer. I work for Le Vaudeville
Galactique, a traveling theater show. I’m a dancer.”

Natalia’s eyes went wide and dreamy at the
same time. “What kind? Ballet?”

“Well, I’ve studied ballet of course, along
with tap, ballroom and just about anything else you can think of. I
tend to think of myself more as ‘expressive.’“

“Ooh,” the girl said. “I’ve always wanted to
be a dancer!”

Of course,
Eva thought.
The little
crippled girl dreams of being a dancer. What a surprise.
“So
what’s stopping you?”

Natalia looked at her in astonishment. “Are
you blind? Look at me!”

“Ah. You’re one of the billions of people
who’ve fallen for the Big Lie that dancing is all about the
feet.”

“Of course it is.”

Eva shook her head. “A famous choreographer
centuries ago staged an act where ten pairs of dance shoes were
attached to a board, and ten dancers stepped into them. Their feet
were essentially nailed to the floor. Then the music started and
they danced, and ended with a round of applause. Dance is about
movement. Legs aren’t the only things that move, you know.

“Yes, I’ve looked at you. Your legs may never
be graceful. But you’ve still got hips. You’ve got a torso. You’ve
got shoulders, arms, hands, wrists and fingers. You’ve got a neck
and a head. You’ve got a mouth that can smile or frown, and eyes
that can sparkle or cry. Sure, legs are an important component. But
they’re not the
only
component. Watch me.”

She knelt in front of Natalia and started
some music playing on her wristcom. Slowly her hips began to gyrate
about. Then her torso began swaying gently left and right to the
beat. Her arms began writhing with the music, as though they were
snakes somehow independent of her body. Her fingers traced
elaborate patterns in the air and her shoulders rotated as though
on separate gimbals. Her neck did a slight, sinuous weaving as she
smiled and winked suggestively at the girl.

And her legs never moved.

After a while Eva stopped dancing and turned
off the music. Natalia’s mouth was agape, her eyes fixed and
hypnotized by the older woman’s movements. If she could have moved
she would have applauded, but she was frozen and speechless at the
demonstration she’d witnessed.

“How’d you like it?” Eva asked.

“That was …” Natalia began, and stopped.
Words failed her.

“Breathtaking, fantastic, superlative,
unparalleled, electrically-charged,” Eva suggested. “Those are all
from some of my reviews. I think my personal favorite, though, is
‘awe-inspiring.’“

“How … how …?”

“The trick,” Eva said more seriously, “is to
realize the music is alive and talking to you.. It may be singing
of love and happiness, or it may be sad and dejected. Become the
music. Let your body speak for it. Now you try.”