Star Lawyers Omnibus : Main Series - Books 1-3, page 34
“Will my children, if we have any, need the same transformation?”
“Not at all. They’ll be naturally bio-energetic, like my people.”
“So, why the extra coins?” Tyler cocked his head and studied Yajik as if seeing the monkey-man for the first time. “Do you know the future?”
“Oh, no. Just a good guesser,” Yajik said. “Keep the coins, as you call them, safe and ready. They are yours to do with as you please.”
“I’ll have to think about this.”
“Talk to your Suzie,” Yajik said. “The choice is hers.”
“Yes, of course.” Unless I throw these voodoo tokens away and never mention it to Suzie. Oh, damn. You heard that, didn’t you, Yajik? “Thanks for the gift. It’s an amazing technological achievement.”
“Nothing is as amazing as the power of love, dear Tyler.”
Tyler’s mind spun like the Cumberland Tunnel. Yajik promised a pleasant respite in this alternate reality, but now I have more to do. Too many important decisions to make. Too many people relying on me. I really need rest. I really need… Suzie.
Five
Tyler and J.B. decided to explore the settlement before retiring to their assigned cottages. Every side street offered artwork and fountains. Mosaics with landscapes and seascapes from unknown worlds decorated the pavements. Artwork appeared everywhere, even crystal sculptures tucked into the rock walls. Delicious music filled courtyard squares, billowing from those ubiquitous musical fruit trees.
He held up Yajik’s coin. “Bear, what should I do with this?”
“Depends on whether the Wolf wants to stop wandering and mate for life,” J.B. said.
“Yeah…” He put the coin back in his pocket. “I wonder if she’s Catholic. Did you program a religion?”
J.B. laughed. “Never considered it. The default is No Preference.”
They wandered alleys for about half an hour, sampling the scent of blossoms and tasting fruit that dangled everywhere. At sunset, they found Rosalie and Julieta atop a small green hillock, lying on dark blue grass, laughing and chatting in some alien tongue.
“Que tal, Primos.” Julieta held up a small reed basket. “Want some fruit, cheese, and nuts?”
“Any booze?” Tyler said.
“Oh, sí.” She brandished a large bottle of red wine. “Our hosts are muy generoso.”
The Matthews brothers parked themselves on the soft grass and received cups of dry red from their cousin. Tyler sampled the cheese and found it reminiscent of the gouda goat he loved. After finishing a first cup and starting a second, Julieta changed the tone of the conversation.
“We owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” J.B. said.
“Yes, they do,” Tyler said. “Let’s hear it. How did my baby sister and her best friend—my cousin—become serial killers?”
“We are nothing of the kind,” Rosalie said. “Julieta and I are professionals. Members of Justicia Para Todos.”
J.B. frowned. “Justice for All—the Iberian league of female dispatchers? That organization is a myth from the days of Roman Spain.”
Tyler laughed bitterly. “And yet, here they sit before us.”
“You’re telling me,” J.B. said, “that Father employs a guild of vigilantes to police the outer worlds?”
“Not the whole guild,” Rosalie said. “Just the two of us.”
J.B.’s eyes darted to Julieta. “Does Uncle Xavier know?”
“He didn’t until a few months ago,” she said.
“Which explains the rift between our families,” Tyler said.
J.B. agreed. “Father and Uncle Xavier have been a little chilly toward each other.”
“Chilly?” Tyler said. “The Senator vowed, if this were old Spain, he would kill Dad with a dueling pistol.”
“I considered that ethnic hyperbole,” J.B. said. “But maybe not.”
Tyler glared at his sister and cousin. “What did you study at Mindorius?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear them say it.
Julieta shrugged. “Medicine.”
“Anthropology,” Rosalie said.
Tyler crossed his arms. “What else?”
“Let me explain,” Julieta said. “We became part of JPT—”
“Not you,” Tyler held up a hand. “I want to hear the truth from the lying Fox.”
“You hate me that much?” Rosalie said.
“Don’t change the subject. You’re my sister, no matter what criminal career you pursue. How did it happen? Start early.”
“When I was a little girl, I always believed the good guys were in control and everything always ended happily. I loved my family, especially Grandpa Matthews. Our family had money, great houses, starships, businesses on many worlds. Then I learned Grandpa’s father—my great-grandfather—was murdered. No matter how much money he had, it wasn’t enough to protect him from bad men.”
“Life’s unfair, so you kill people?” Tyler said.
“Jesus Christ—let me tell it my way!” Rosalie closed her eyes. When she continued, her self-control had apparently rebooted. “I decided it was sometimes necessary to hit bad people before they hit good people. When I read about JPT, I found myself… well… drawn to it.”
Tyler snorted. “You make it sound like a call to the priesthood.”
“Exactly!” Julieta said. “For me, it was a sacred calling.”
“That is straight-up sacrilegious. J.B., are you going to sit there—”
“Rosalie, please continue,” J.B. said.
She took a breath. “I spoke with Papá. He neither encouraged nor discouraged me. Julieta discovered I was researching the ancient guild of Latina justice-makers, and we became a secret society of two. When it was time to pick a college, we decided on Transformación University, a venerable Mindorian school.”
“Mamá attended T.U.,” Julieta added. “It’s where she met Tia Bianca.”
“Transformación had a good program in multi-species anthropology for me and a good medical college for Julieta.”
“A great medical college,” her cousin corrected. “We studied languages together, to keep contact during those years of hard study.”
Rosalie continued. “Julieta and I picked T.U. because it had a secret program in covert studies for female operatives. The curriculum included black ops and dispatcher tactics. And, yes, the program was founded by Latina women who kept alive the principles of Justicia Para Todos.”
“And Dad was okay with this? Paid the bill while you learned to kill?”
“I told Papá my goals had not changed. So, we had a series of long talks about the morality of my career decision.”
“The morality of murder?” Tyler said.
“Of extreme measures to achieve justice,” Rosalie said.
Tyler shook his head. “Like all self-justifying terrorists—”
Julieta bristled. “I am a surgeon, not a butcher.”
“That’s a joke, coming from a doctor who kills for hire.”
“Neither of us accepts money!” Rosalie said.
J.B. said, “Let them talk, Ty.”
Rosalie continued. “When I convinced Papá I was sincere, he arranged an introduction for Julieta and me with the leadership of JPT. They liked what we brought to the table, so we were admitted as probationary candidates to their Mindorian program.”
“What was your final exam?” Tyler said. “Overthrow a government, execute a cheating husband?”
“They don’t wait until a dispatcher graduates before providing hands-on experience,” Julieta said.
“Our first hit was a regional dictator on New Sumatra,” Rosalie said. “Do you know the place?”
“Human colony on the Coreward side of the Perseus,” Tyler said. “Broke free from the Terran Commonwealth two centuries ago. Bad reputation on human rights.”
“Well deserved,” Rosalie said. “Too far beyond Terran space for anyone in power to care. Four hundred thousand colonists living in terror. Colonial dictator—homicidal, whimsical, sadistic. He did terrible things.”
Tyler sloshed down his wine and poured another cup. “Okay, okay. I get the picture.”
“Our government didn’t,” Rosalie said. “Uncle Dennis said New Sumatra has been independent too long and is too far away.”
“Four thousand light years from the closest Commonwealth outpost,” Julieta said.
“So, our instructors sent us to eliminate the leader of the pack and his five top dogs,” Rosalie said. “All of them were capable of taking command and continuing the terror.”
“And did you ‘eliminate’ them?” J.B. said.
“Surgically,” Julieta said. “And it felt good. May Jesus and the Blessed Virgin have mercy on my soul, but it was a righteous act.”
“Julieta killed the dictator while he was raping a nine-year-old girl,” Rosalie said. “The child survived and is still in therapy.”
“What did you contribute to this field trip?” Tyler said.
“I took out the other five.”
“Did a new, democratic government arise?” Tyler said.
Rosalie shrugged. “No, but we taught the leadership they weren’t beyond the reach of justice.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“I was eighteen,” Julieta said.
Tyler’s stomach knotted. “So, your kill-school dispatches teenage girls to execute evil doers as part of the curriculum. And I thought the University of Missouri was heartless.”
“Primo, do you keep a chef from the kitchen until she owns the restaurant?” Julieta said.
“We’re talking murder, not whipping up a soufflé.”
“You have a problem with hard justice?” Rosalie said.
Tyler closed his eyes, searching for words. This went too far. It trampled too many fences, cast aside too many beliefs he took for granted.
“I believe in the rule of law,” he said. “Long ago, civilized people rose to a higher standard than an eye for an eye.”
“When civilized people encounter a monster, their first instinct is to negotiate with it,” Rosalie countered. “Monsters eat negotiators.”
“Where is your Catholic upbringing? We’re supposed to help people!” Tyler said. “Remember the Good Samaritan?”
“Sure!” Rosalie shot back. “But the Samaritan did a half-assed job. After the victim was in good hands, I would’ve retraced his steps and killed the fucking robbers. No victims in the ditch tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation!” Tyler said. “How can you murder people and call it a profession?”
“We have a code of ethics,” Julieta said. “We don’t just go out and whack bystanders.”
“Never kill for revenge. Never kill with anger,” Rosalie said.
“Never strike to wound. Never harm an innocent,” Julieta added.
“And most important,” Rosalie said, “If justice is not your goal, do not engage.”
“I have to think about this.” Tyler shook his head.
“Wolfie, I need your love,” Rosalie said. “I do not need your approval.”
“I’ve joked about the Family being the new Mafia. But damn, girl…”
They sat together in the fading afternoon light but did very little talking. Finally, Tyler dropped the other shoe.
“Prima, your brother told me about Aunt Camilla,” Tyler said. “Esteban said you’ve been searching for a mysterious healing medicine for months.”
“So?” Julieta swallowed a gulp of wine.
Tyler took a matching swig and swished it around his mouth to stall for a moment. “So, now you’ve found it?”
Julieta spilled red wine on dark grass. “The Zyn-Vorkan elixir is a by-product of unspeakable pain.”
“It can save your mother’s life.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Julieta snapped. “You think I haven’t shouted at God, cried to the Virgin, and prayed to Saint Jude about that very fact?”
“Extreme circumstances require—”
“Don’t lawyer me, Tyler! Torture juice is an abomination. I can’t do it. Not even to save Mamá.” She turned her back to him and wept.
Tyler wanted to hug his dark-haired cousin, to drain away some of her pain. But she teetered between rage and anguish, too volatile to accept comfort right now. Tyler murmured an apology and left these two women he loved, now strangers on a hillock, to comfort each other.
Julieta was an enigma. First, do no harm… A doctor who kills, yet she refuses an antidote to her mother’s terminal disease on ethical grounds? Yet, he shared her sentiments about the elixir. It would be a mortal sin to benefit from the torture tactics of the Suryadivan High Priests. But to heal Aunt Camilla? Good thing he didn’t believe in hell, because using the by-products of demonic cruelty would allow him little chance of escaping the everlasting flames, and that is exactly what he would do if given the opportunity to cure her of the Blue Fever.
When Tyler found his assigned cottage, a warm meal of yellow beans, flatbread, and an unfamiliar but tasty medley of alien vegetables waited on a table by the window. He ate slowly and watched the double sunset, then found an old historical novel about the first deep space explorer, Aurelio Lupetti, on his datacom pad. Tyler read for an hour before trying to sleep. He didn’t expect to succeed, so he kept the pad on the bed to continue reading when sleep evaded him.
He thought about Suzie and badly wanted her beside him rather than a datacom. Rosalie and Suzie, two women Tyler loved deeply, had drifted far way. His mind kept drifting to dying Aunt Camilla, half a galaxy distant. Could an elixir siphoned from the bodies of tortured aliens actually heal her?
I’m not afraid of hell. This is the only real hell. A cure is available for a woman of deep faith—the mother of my cousins, my mother’s lifelong friend—but my religious scruples prevent me from obtaining it. To hell with hell. She deserves to live for her husband and Family. Anything less merits a scream in the face of God.
Nightmare thoughts mercifully flowed to dreamless sleep until the golden suns rose again.
Six
It was late morning before Rosalie, Julieta and Yumiko sighted the Sioux City snuggled among the trees. Yumiko was neither pilot nor starship technician, but she performed a complete security sweep of the vessel before allowing her companions to board. Rosalie decided to keep the ship camouflaged until the rest of the Recon Team made contact. Yumi-san set proximity alarms to identify any Suryadivan stragglers wandering their way during the Sacred Hunt, or more serious threats. As a final precaution, Rosalie sent Lucy into the dark woods in leopard form.
Julieta ran a low-power diagnostic while Rosalie prepared for an emergency takeoff. With nothing to do, Yumiko meditated for an hour, then prepared green tea, red bean pancakes, and rice cakes for everyone. They gathered in the tiny Sioux City galley and listened to Japanese lute music while eating.
No one spoke their concerns as the afternoon wore on, but they knew by now the Recon Team must have penetrated the Temple of Life. The comm channels were amazingly clear of chatter, perhaps due to the sacramental nature of the Suryadivan jubilee of animal butchery.
Above Tyler’s scout ship, clouds thickened in the west, and the first hints of neon lightning streaked across the darkening sky. Rosalie sat in the command chair sidesaddle and watched the gathering storm through the Sioux City’s optical viewscreens. Her brothers faced danger before, and in her profession she knew that exhilaration and despair, like the two-faced Roman god Janus, looked both ways at once. She closed her eyes and recited a Hail Mary in Latin.
The first drops of rain pelted the access ramp when Lucy scampered into the Sioux City’s small cargo bay. She converted from dark leopard to red-haired toddler and shouted for Rosalie.
“Ma-ma!”
“Lucy, what’s wrong?” Rosalie bounded down the metal stairs from the command deck and slid the handrails to deck one. Coconut scent flooded the lower level, an indication Lucy was agitated. Julieta and Yumiko awaited in the cargo bay, each whispering words of comfort to the shape-shifter child.
Lucy bounced like a frustrated preschooler in a blue-and-green tunic. “Bad men in forest. Follow trail up mountain in rain. Not robes. Battle armor. Bad men!”
“How many?” Julieta said.
“Twenty, thirty, more. Bad feel. Anger, blood-thirst.”
“Humanoids?” Rosalie said.
“Terrans. Not nice like you.”
Julieta shook her head. “How did they find the trail and miss this ship?”
“One possibility only,” Yumiko said. “Your brothers carry something bandits track.”
“Ma-ma,” Lucy tugged on Rosalie’s sleeve. “Big thunder-lightning coming. Bad men way far out there. Close to Tyler, Jaybee.”
Rosalie brushed Lucy’s red hair with her fingers. “We won’t let anyone hurt the Family.”
Julieta grasped Rosalie’s arm. “We promised Father Yajik—no violence.”
“With a gang of cutthroats stalking my brothers? Fuck pacifism.” Rosalie glanced at the child. I need to watch my mouth around her. The irony of that thought, after Lucy-the-Bull gutted those pirates on Sedalia.
Julieta nodded. “What do you want to do, Prima?”
“Naca Jen.” Rosalie headed for the weapons locker. “Yumiko, you stay here. This is a Family affair.”
The Asian woman bowed slightly. “I am part of household. We fight together, neh?”
“Familia es todo.” Julieta pulled a holster with two blast pistols from the arms locker. “How do we do this?”
“We find Tyler and the Bear. Provide backup as needed.” Rosalie searched the arms locker for her personal kit. She tapped in the access code on a metal box and it popped open. “Brought a few Mindorian specials.”
Julieta snatched the finger-sized device. “You little thief.”
“T.U. will never miss them. But maybe the bad guys will miss us.”
“Long hike to the Temple,” Julieta said. “Lucy says the bandits are ‘way far’ ahead of us.”
Rosalie shrugged. “Who said anything about walking?”
Tyler was surprised when Yajik lingered by the fountain pool through the morning and early afternoon. A light, pleasant breeze stirred the air and carried scents of flowers and fruit trees from the courtyard and surrounding streets.
“Not at all. They’ll be naturally bio-energetic, like my people.”
“So, why the extra coins?” Tyler cocked his head and studied Yajik as if seeing the monkey-man for the first time. “Do you know the future?”
“Oh, no. Just a good guesser,” Yajik said. “Keep the coins, as you call them, safe and ready. They are yours to do with as you please.”
“I’ll have to think about this.”
“Talk to your Suzie,” Yajik said. “The choice is hers.”
“Yes, of course.” Unless I throw these voodoo tokens away and never mention it to Suzie. Oh, damn. You heard that, didn’t you, Yajik? “Thanks for the gift. It’s an amazing technological achievement.”
“Nothing is as amazing as the power of love, dear Tyler.”
Tyler’s mind spun like the Cumberland Tunnel. Yajik promised a pleasant respite in this alternate reality, but now I have more to do. Too many important decisions to make. Too many people relying on me. I really need rest. I really need… Suzie.
Five
Tyler and J.B. decided to explore the settlement before retiring to their assigned cottages. Every side street offered artwork and fountains. Mosaics with landscapes and seascapes from unknown worlds decorated the pavements. Artwork appeared everywhere, even crystal sculptures tucked into the rock walls. Delicious music filled courtyard squares, billowing from those ubiquitous musical fruit trees.
He held up Yajik’s coin. “Bear, what should I do with this?”
“Depends on whether the Wolf wants to stop wandering and mate for life,” J.B. said.
“Yeah…” He put the coin back in his pocket. “I wonder if she’s Catholic. Did you program a religion?”
J.B. laughed. “Never considered it. The default is No Preference.”
They wandered alleys for about half an hour, sampling the scent of blossoms and tasting fruit that dangled everywhere. At sunset, they found Rosalie and Julieta atop a small green hillock, lying on dark blue grass, laughing and chatting in some alien tongue.
“Que tal, Primos.” Julieta held up a small reed basket. “Want some fruit, cheese, and nuts?”
“Any booze?” Tyler said.
“Oh, sí.” She brandished a large bottle of red wine. “Our hosts are muy generoso.”
The Matthews brothers parked themselves on the soft grass and received cups of dry red from their cousin. Tyler sampled the cheese and found it reminiscent of the gouda goat he loved. After finishing a first cup and starting a second, Julieta changed the tone of the conversation.
“We owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” J.B. said.
“Yes, they do,” Tyler said. “Let’s hear it. How did my baby sister and her best friend—my cousin—become serial killers?”
“We are nothing of the kind,” Rosalie said. “Julieta and I are professionals. Members of Justicia Para Todos.”
J.B. frowned. “Justice for All—the Iberian league of female dispatchers? That organization is a myth from the days of Roman Spain.”
Tyler laughed bitterly. “And yet, here they sit before us.”
“You’re telling me,” J.B. said, “that Father employs a guild of vigilantes to police the outer worlds?”
“Not the whole guild,” Rosalie said. “Just the two of us.”
J.B.’s eyes darted to Julieta. “Does Uncle Xavier know?”
“He didn’t until a few months ago,” she said.
“Which explains the rift between our families,” Tyler said.
J.B. agreed. “Father and Uncle Xavier have been a little chilly toward each other.”
“Chilly?” Tyler said. “The Senator vowed, if this were old Spain, he would kill Dad with a dueling pistol.”
“I considered that ethnic hyperbole,” J.B. said. “But maybe not.”
Tyler glared at his sister and cousin. “What did you study at Mindorius?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear them say it.
Julieta shrugged. “Medicine.”
“Anthropology,” Rosalie said.
Tyler crossed his arms. “What else?”
“Let me explain,” Julieta said. “We became part of JPT—”
“Not you,” Tyler held up a hand. “I want to hear the truth from the lying Fox.”
“You hate me that much?” Rosalie said.
“Don’t change the subject. You’re my sister, no matter what criminal career you pursue. How did it happen? Start early.”
“When I was a little girl, I always believed the good guys were in control and everything always ended happily. I loved my family, especially Grandpa Matthews. Our family had money, great houses, starships, businesses on many worlds. Then I learned Grandpa’s father—my great-grandfather—was murdered. No matter how much money he had, it wasn’t enough to protect him from bad men.”
“Life’s unfair, so you kill people?” Tyler said.
“Jesus Christ—let me tell it my way!” Rosalie closed her eyes. When she continued, her self-control had apparently rebooted. “I decided it was sometimes necessary to hit bad people before they hit good people. When I read about JPT, I found myself… well… drawn to it.”
Tyler snorted. “You make it sound like a call to the priesthood.”
“Exactly!” Julieta said. “For me, it was a sacred calling.”
“That is straight-up sacrilegious. J.B., are you going to sit there—”
“Rosalie, please continue,” J.B. said.
She took a breath. “I spoke with Papá. He neither encouraged nor discouraged me. Julieta discovered I was researching the ancient guild of Latina justice-makers, and we became a secret society of two. When it was time to pick a college, we decided on Transformación University, a venerable Mindorian school.”
“Mamá attended T.U.,” Julieta added. “It’s where she met Tia Bianca.”
“Transformación had a good program in multi-species anthropology for me and a good medical college for Julieta.”
“A great medical college,” her cousin corrected. “We studied languages together, to keep contact during those years of hard study.”
Rosalie continued. “Julieta and I picked T.U. because it had a secret program in covert studies for female operatives. The curriculum included black ops and dispatcher tactics. And, yes, the program was founded by Latina women who kept alive the principles of Justicia Para Todos.”
“And Dad was okay with this? Paid the bill while you learned to kill?”
“I told Papá my goals had not changed. So, we had a series of long talks about the morality of my career decision.”
“The morality of murder?” Tyler said.
“Of extreme measures to achieve justice,” Rosalie said.
Tyler shook his head. “Like all self-justifying terrorists—”
Julieta bristled. “I am a surgeon, not a butcher.”
“That’s a joke, coming from a doctor who kills for hire.”
“Neither of us accepts money!” Rosalie said.
J.B. said, “Let them talk, Ty.”
Rosalie continued. “When I convinced Papá I was sincere, he arranged an introduction for Julieta and me with the leadership of JPT. They liked what we brought to the table, so we were admitted as probationary candidates to their Mindorian program.”
“What was your final exam?” Tyler said. “Overthrow a government, execute a cheating husband?”
“They don’t wait until a dispatcher graduates before providing hands-on experience,” Julieta said.
“Our first hit was a regional dictator on New Sumatra,” Rosalie said. “Do you know the place?”
“Human colony on the Coreward side of the Perseus,” Tyler said. “Broke free from the Terran Commonwealth two centuries ago. Bad reputation on human rights.”
“Well deserved,” Rosalie said. “Too far beyond Terran space for anyone in power to care. Four hundred thousand colonists living in terror. Colonial dictator—homicidal, whimsical, sadistic. He did terrible things.”
Tyler sloshed down his wine and poured another cup. “Okay, okay. I get the picture.”
“Our government didn’t,” Rosalie said. “Uncle Dennis said New Sumatra has been independent too long and is too far away.”
“Four thousand light years from the closest Commonwealth outpost,” Julieta said.
“So, our instructors sent us to eliminate the leader of the pack and his five top dogs,” Rosalie said. “All of them were capable of taking command and continuing the terror.”
“And did you ‘eliminate’ them?” J.B. said.
“Surgically,” Julieta said. “And it felt good. May Jesus and the Blessed Virgin have mercy on my soul, but it was a righteous act.”
“Julieta killed the dictator while he was raping a nine-year-old girl,” Rosalie said. “The child survived and is still in therapy.”
“What did you contribute to this field trip?” Tyler said.
“I took out the other five.”
“Did a new, democratic government arise?” Tyler said.
Rosalie shrugged. “No, but we taught the leadership they weren’t beyond the reach of justice.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“I was eighteen,” Julieta said.
Tyler’s stomach knotted. “So, your kill-school dispatches teenage girls to execute evil doers as part of the curriculum. And I thought the University of Missouri was heartless.”
“Primo, do you keep a chef from the kitchen until she owns the restaurant?” Julieta said.
“We’re talking murder, not whipping up a soufflé.”
“You have a problem with hard justice?” Rosalie said.
Tyler closed his eyes, searching for words. This went too far. It trampled too many fences, cast aside too many beliefs he took for granted.
“I believe in the rule of law,” he said. “Long ago, civilized people rose to a higher standard than an eye for an eye.”
“When civilized people encounter a monster, their first instinct is to negotiate with it,” Rosalie countered. “Monsters eat negotiators.”
“Where is your Catholic upbringing? We’re supposed to help people!” Tyler said. “Remember the Good Samaritan?”
“Sure!” Rosalie shot back. “But the Samaritan did a half-assed job. After the victim was in good hands, I would’ve retraced his steps and killed the fucking robbers. No victims in the ditch tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation!” Tyler said. “How can you murder people and call it a profession?”
“We have a code of ethics,” Julieta said. “We don’t just go out and whack bystanders.”
“Never kill for revenge. Never kill with anger,” Rosalie said.
“Never strike to wound. Never harm an innocent,” Julieta added.
“And most important,” Rosalie said, “If justice is not your goal, do not engage.”
“I have to think about this.” Tyler shook his head.
“Wolfie, I need your love,” Rosalie said. “I do not need your approval.”
“I’ve joked about the Family being the new Mafia. But damn, girl…”
They sat together in the fading afternoon light but did very little talking. Finally, Tyler dropped the other shoe.
“Prima, your brother told me about Aunt Camilla,” Tyler said. “Esteban said you’ve been searching for a mysterious healing medicine for months.”
“So?” Julieta swallowed a gulp of wine.
Tyler took a matching swig and swished it around his mouth to stall for a moment. “So, now you’ve found it?”
Julieta spilled red wine on dark grass. “The Zyn-Vorkan elixir is a by-product of unspeakable pain.”
“It can save your mother’s life.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Julieta snapped. “You think I haven’t shouted at God, cried to the Virgin, and prayed to Saint Jude about that very fact?”
“Extreme circumstances require—”
“Don’t lawyer me, Tyler! Torture juice is an abomination. I can’t do it. Not even to save Mamá.” She turned her back to him and wept.
Tyler wanted to hug his dark-haired cousin, to drain away some of her pain. But she teetered between rage and anguish, too volatile to accept comfort right now. Tyler murmured an apology and left these two women he loved, now strangers on a hillock, to comfort each other.
Julieta was an enigma. First, do no harm… A doctor who kills, yet she refuses an antidote to her mother’s terminal disease on ethical grounds? Yet, he shared her sentiments about the elixir. It would be a mortal sin to benefit from the torture tactics of the Suryadivan High Priests. But to heal Aunt Camilla? Good thing he didn’t believe in hell, because using the by-products of demonic cruelty would allow him little chance of escaping the everlasting flames, and that is exactly what he would do if given the opportunity to cure her of the Blue Fever.
When Tyler found his assigned cottage, a warm meal of yellow beans, flatbread, and an unfamiliar but tasty medley of alien vegetables waited on a table by the window. He ate slowly and watched the double sunset, then found an old historical novel about the first deep space explorer, Aurelio Lupetti, on his datacom pad. Tyler read for an hour before trying to sleep. He didn’t expect to succeed, so he kept the pad on the bed to continue reading when sleep evaded him.
He thought about Suzie and badly wanted her beside him rather than a datacom. Rosalie and Suzie, two women Tyler loved deeply, had drifted far way. His mind kept drifting to dying Aunt Camilla, half a galaxy distant. Could an elixir siphoned from the bodies of tortured aliens actually heal her?
I’m not afraid of hell. This is the only real hell. A cure is available for a woman of deep faith—the mother of my cousins, my mother’s lifelong friend—but my religious scruples prevent me from obtaining it. To hell with hell. She deserves to live for her husband and Family. Anything less merits a scream in the face of God.
Nightmare thoughts mercifully flowed to dreamless sleep until the golden suns rose again.
Six
It was late morning before Rosalie, Julieta and Yumiko sighted the Sioux City snuggled among the trees. Yumiko was neither pilot nor starship technician, but she performed a complete security sweep of the vessel before allowing her companions to board. Rosalie decided to keep the ship camouflaged until the rest of the Recon Team made contact. Yumi-san set proximity alarms to identify any Suryadivan stragglers wandering their way during the Sacred Hunt, or more serious threats. As a final precaution, Rosalie sent Lucy into the dark woods in leopard form.
Julieta ran a low-power diagnostic while Rosalie prepared for an emergency takeoff. With nothing to do, Yumiko meditated for an hour, then prepared green tea, red bean pancakes, and rice cakes for everyone. They gathered in the tiny Sioux City galley and listened to Japanese lute music while eating.
No one spoke their concerns as the afternoon wore on, but they knew by now the Recon Team must have penetrated the Temple of Life. The comm channels were amazingly clear of chatter, perhaps due to the sacramental nature of the Suryadivan jubilee of animal butchery.
Above Tyler’s scout ship, clouds thickened in the west, and the first hints of neon lightning streaked across the darkening sky. Rosalie sat in the command chair sidesaddle and watched the gathering storm through the Sioux City’s optical viewscreens. Her brothers faced danger before, and in her profession she knew that exhilaration and despair, like the two-faced Roman god Janus, looked both ways at once. She closed her eyes and recited a Hail Mary in Latin.
The first drops of rain pelted the access ramp when Lucy scampered into the Sioux City’s small cargo bay. She converted from dark leopard to red-haired toddler and shouted for Rosalie.
“Ma-ma!”
“Lucy, what’s wrong?” Rosalie bounded down the metal stairs from the command deck and slid the handrails to deck one. Coconut scent flooded the lower level, an indication Lucy was agitated. Julieta and Yumiko awaited in the cargo bay, each whispering words of comfort to the shape-shifter child.
Lucy bounced like a frustrated preschooler in a blue-and-green tunic. “Bad men in forest. Follow trail up mountain in rain. Not robes. Battle armor. Bad men!”
“How many?” Julieta said.
“Twenty, thirty, more. Bad feel. Anger, blood-thirst.”
“Humanoids?” Rosalie said.
“Terrans. Not nice like you.”
Julieta shook her head. “How did they find the trail and miss this ship?”
“One possibility only,” Yumiko said. “Your brothers carry something bandits track.”
“Ma-ma,” Lucy tugged on Rosalie’s sleeve. “Big thunder-lightning coming. Bad men way far out there. Close to Tyler, Jaybee.”
Rosalie brushed Lucy’s red hair with her fingers. “We won’t let anyone hurt the Family.”
Julieta grasped Rosalie’s arm. “We promised Father Yajik—no violence.”
“With a gang of cutthroats stalking my brothers? Fuck pacifism.” Rosalie glanced at the child. I need to watch my mouth around her. The irony of that thought, after Lucy-the-Bull gutted those pirates on Sedalia.
Julieta nodded. “What do you want to do, Prima?”
“Naca Jen.” Rosalie headed for the weapons locker. “Yumiko, you stay here. This is a Family affair.”
The Asian woman bowed slightly. “I am part of household. We fight together, neh?”
“Familia es todo.” Julieta pulled a holster with two blast pistols from the arms locker. “How do we do this?”
“We find Tyler and the Bear. Provide backup as needed.” Rosalie searched the arms locker for her personal kit. She tapped in the access code on a metal box and it popped open. “Brought a few Mindorian specials.”
Julieta snatched the finger-sized device. “You little thief.”
“T.U. will never miss them. But maybe the bad guys will miss us.”
“Long hike to the Temple,” Julieta said. “Lucy says the bandits are ‘way far’ ahead of us.”
Rosalie shrugged. “Who said anything about walking?”
Tyler was surprised when Yajik lingered by the fountain pool through the morning and early afternoon. A light, pleasant breeze stirred the air and carried scents of flowers and fruit trees from the courtyard and surrounding streets.
