The prize book two ret.., p.2
Support this site by clicking ads, thank you!

THE PRIZE: BOOK TWO - RETRIBUTION, page 2

 

THE PRIZE: BOOK TWO - RETRIBUTION
Select Voice:
Brian (uk)
Emma (uk)  
Amy (uk)
Eric (us)
Ivy (us)
Joey (us)
Salli (us)  
Justin (us)
Jennifer (us)  
Kimberly (us)  
Kendra (us)
Russell (au)
Nicole (au)



Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font  



  “Richard? Where did you get that box?” Ellis asked softly, licking butter delicately off her fingers, and coating her sensuous red lips with the residue, knowing very well what he was doing with the walls.

  “I found it in the Director's office.”

  “And I thought you told me not to stop for souvenirs?” She murmured softly, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  “I don't remember saying that.” Penn lied.

  “Is that why we have two lovely pure silver tankards with the Imperial crest sitting on the bar at home?”

  “Yes and a lovely gold inlaid silver platter that I don't remember owning before.”

  “I needed a center piece for Sunday dinner.” She smiled sweetly at him.

  “Oh I see. Just a little decorative touch to smarten up the table?”

  “Right. That's it exactly.” She wrinkled her nose. “We do want our kids to grow up with some manners and know how to eat properly, don’t we?’ She asked, raising her eyebrows.” Penn flicked his eyes to her lips for a moment, wishing he could lean over and kiss them.

  “You mean you don’t want them running around like little savages with baby raptors as pets like they do now?”

  “Richard, you, and they will shower, change into proper clothes and sit at the dinner table like proper, well mannered, well behaved human beings at least one day a week, instead of the barbarians you usually are.” She huffed.

  “I see. Punishment. Just because you got caught trying to sneak into our fort to capture the flag.” He laughed.

  “That is entirely beside the point.” The grin gave her away. He leaned towards her and they kissed anyway, Richard drawing in her delicate lavender scent as they did.

  At this time of the day, few patrons inhabited the place. The drunk still lay, slumped over the table in a corner, and the two coarsely dressed men playing some sort of card game near the door ignored them, both armed, but then again who wasn’t around this place. The woman and the man at the other end of the bar didn’t appear to be paying any attention to them, and other than the woman’s initial look of envy at Ellis, they continued with their conversation. To all intents and purposes, the female in a revealing dress was the resident hooker, but Penn didn’t believe that for a moment. To Richard, it felt like a setup, not that he cared. Thankfully, the beer was cold, and real. That was enough. How the owner had managed to come up with a pre-invasion beer was anyone's guess. Probably the carefully hidden contents of a high jacked big rig. Whatever communication system the barkeep used was very efficient, almost too efficient as within ten minutes the bat-wing doors opened and in walked a tall, scruffy looking, fair-haired man dressed in rough, albeit clean, western gear. He wore a cowboy hat and a sidearm, a nine-millimeter Browning automatic by the look of it in a low hung holster. Three men followed, but none were dressed as well as the first. Penn whispered something to Ellis, and she laughed playfully. Some signal passed between the barkeep and the fair-haired man, as he changed directions and walked over to their table. Penn and Ellis appeared lost in each other's eyes, but anyone who thought that was sadly mistaken. Even before the man walked into the room they knew he was there to see them by the sound of his purposeful footsteps on the sidewalk. You don't walk like that in this heat unless you are going somewhere important, like a meeting, a dance, or a gunfight. Penn and Ellis were primed for either, and didn't care which way the ball bounced.

  Moody looked cynically at the two teenagers sitting at the table as he walked across the room, gazing into each other’s eyes like love struck kids, the shadow of his brim effectively hiding his scrutiny. He quickly evaluated their potential for profit down to the last cent. Both in their late teens or early twenties unless he missed his guess, but it puzzled him why they were here. This wasn’t exactly Rodeo Drive or some fancy big city hotel, so why come here to make a deal on some high priced items. Offhand he could think of five places you could go to make a good deal on what they had, so there had to be something else going on. As young as they were, they probably wouldn't have much experience with this sort of deal, but even so, you would think they’d be smart enough not to come into a place like this and expect to walk out again. His eyes shifted to the girl. She was definitely a looker in that outfit, and with the right motivation, she could turn a tidy profit as a whore, or he could slave her out to the Imperials once they came back. The clothes were worth a year's pay, and, if what the barkeep reported was true, he could retire on what they were carrying. How much could he keep for himself was the question? If the report was true, it would be interesting to find out where these kids had gotten their hands on a Cg disk, and whether there was any more. There was also the question of how they’d gotten here, as the scouts he’d sent out hadn’t found any rolling stock or horses.

  “I hear you have something to sell?” Moody asked as he reached for a chair.

  “I don't remember asking you to sit.” Richard’s voice cut through the hot air like a razor, stopping Moody's hand in mid motion.

  “Not exactly the way to start a business negotiation, kid.”

  “Who said we had anything to negotiate? Any talking we do, you can do it standing.” Moody looked from the kid to the girl, and he didn't like what he saw. They might look like kids, but these two were primed. It was the kid’s yellow eyes that caught his attention and he took a half step back before recovering. He'd only seen eyes like that on a bald eagle, but it felt as if he were looking down the barrels of a rifle.

  “So, what are you looking for then?” Moody shook off the feeling, but kept his hands in view by hooking them into his belt and close to his sidearm.

  “I hate dealing with a middleman.” Richard leaned back slightly and turned his head to look up at him. “I need to talk to your boss.” Moody forced himself to stand still as the kid looked at him with those eyes. He remembered a story about a man with yellow eyes, and if only a fraction of it was true, he was death incarnate.

  “My boss?” Moody snorted, recovering quickly. “I don't have no boss, I'm it!”

  “Then go away, I don't deal with low-life bottom feeders like you.” Richard saw Moody's hand twitch slightly. His fingers didn't exactly move towards the weapon on his hip, but Richard could feel the intent if he saw the slightest chance.

  Penn wanted to get under Moody's skin. Getting insulted to his face was bad enough, by a mere kid was even worse. It was one of the few times Richard was thankful for what the scientists had done to make him look perpetually young. People completely underestimated his potential.

  “You've got a big mouth for a kid who wants to make a deal.” Moody growled, his face feeling hot. Being called a low-life bottom-feeder rankled, even if it was true to some degree.

  “I’ll only talk to someone higher up the food chain. Who's your boss?”

  “I just got through telling you kid, there ain't no boss!” The kid just smiled and turned his attention back to the drowning pools of the girl's eyes, his left hand stroking her stocking covered thigh.

  “We'll just wait until he gets here, or take our business down the road.” Penn commented offhandedly as he looked up.

  The man's eyes narrowed, and he slowly reached up with his left hand to scratch his unshaven chin. He thought the move might distract the kid, as it had others, but those Golden Eyes never left those of the girl. This wasn't going well. The kid was too sure of himself. He deliberately moved his right hand to see if the kid would react. He hadn't so much as twitched in the direction of a weapon, and neither had the girl. However, they had to be carrying something besides the imperial blast rifle leaning against the wall. It was too far to reach if things went sideways, yet no one in their right mind came to this part of town without a weapon. Were they stupid enough to walk into a place like this without one, especially with what they were carrying? If only he knew what else they might have, he'd kill the kid right now and take the girl.

  “Look you snot nosed piece of shit. I just got through telling you, there ain't no boss!” He snarled, sliding his thumb along his belt so his right hand was closer to the butt of his weapon.

  “Go tell your boss Richard Penn wants to see him.” Richard could feel his temper stirring in the pit of his stomach, and clamped down on it. This wasn't the time, or the place to start a rumble yet. “All you have to do is walk across the room, he's sitting right there.”

  The man jerked his left hand away from his face as a distraction, as his right hand went towards his weapon. Moody always prided himself on being fast, very fast. It was one of the things that made him valuable, and yet, before his fingers even touched the butt of his weapon less than two inches away, the girl was pointing a lethal looking weapon at him. He hadn't even seen her move. It just seemed to appear in her hand, as if by magic. The kid shook his head, as if he'd seen that move a thousand times.

  “Now, will you stop dancing around the bush, and go tell your boss we want to talk to him?” Somehow, that was scarier than the gun pointing at him. How the hell could the kid know Brody was here? He tried to speak. “Look, there's…”

  “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.

 
Add Fast Bookmark
Load Fast Bookmark
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Turn Navi On
Scroll Up
Turn Navi On
Scroll
Turn Navi On
183