Occupied Earth Read online

  “Ev’buddy does,” she sighed.

  He stared at her for a long minute. There was a mystery here. This strange little girl was a mystery. He hated mysteries. Mysteries needed to be dismantled; screamed to be dismantled.

  “Ranny,” he said, “I can’t spend any more time talking with you. Not just now. I have a meeting. I’m on a very tight schedule. We will talk again, I promise. Longer next time--much longer. Until then will you do me a favor?”

  “Um, what?”

  “Do you see how all these other people are standing?”

  Ranny looked around the courtyard and said, “Um, the ones with the guns?”

  “No,” he said firmly, “no, the other people.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Do you think you could stand like that if you tried? Stand like that every time you see a Mahk-Ra, or someone dressed in a uniform like mine? Could you?”

  “Fer how long?”

  Was she bargaining with him? “Until they’re gone,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said, then added, “But not ever ‘n ever.”

  Then, as if she had made her point, she turned and stepped off the walk. She dropped her arms to her sides, bowed her head reverently, and became an angel at an altar. It was a pose so pure as to be almost a satire of his instructions.

  Benton stood, nonplussed. How had this little girl stolen the initiative? He turned to the mother and said, “You. Up here.”

  A gasp escaped her. Her knees buckled as she stepped onto the walkway.

  “Please, sir,” she began, “she didn’t know; she’s so young ... ”

  He held up his hand, and the woman stopped in mid-sentence. “What is your name?”

  “Marilyn, sir.”

  “Marilyn,” the name sounded like the punch line to a dirty joke as he spoke it, “do you imagine I intend to punish this girl for her ignorance?”

  The woman struggled before deciding the safest course was to say nothing.

  Benton said, “No, no, Marilyn, this girl is in no way to blame.”

  “Oh, thank you Si--”, His hand lashed out with a slap that knocked her to ground.

  He towered over the cowering woman. “It is you who must be punished.”

  The woman groaned, her quaking hands rapping noisily against the concrete of the walkway. He paused, listening to this paradiddle of fear. He began to tap his toe in counterpoint. The frightened woman quieted to silence.

  He smiled his deaths-head smile, and said, “Yes, you must be punished. I’ve only had a few minutes with Ranny, and yet she seems quite able to understand what is wanted. You have failed as a mother. It’s your duty to teach her proper respect. Sergeant!”

  “Sir.” Chobuc-re towered at his elbow.

  “I’m running late for my meeting. Take charge of this. I want the girl escorted safely back to her grandfather. His name, I believe, is Arthur Webb.”

  He turned, “Ranny ... ” She had modified the pose. She stood as before, but now the middle finger of each hand was pointing proudly above her curled knuckles. The angel had become a vulgarity.

  He frowned. Did she understand what she was doing? He hoped his guard wouldn’t recognize the rudeness of this purely American gesture. He wanted to deal with the girl in his own time.

  He tried again, “Ranny, do you know where your grandfather lives?”

  She kept her head bowed, arms at her sides, and middle fingers standing proud. She nodded yes.

  “Delivered unharmed, Sergeant, you understand?”

  “Sir.” Chobuc-re said nothing about the pose.

  “This woman will have a week of workhouse duty. Nothing that will damage her, Sergeant. I plan to give her my personal attention. You will schedule at least once a week with me, beginning when she’s done at the workhouse. Mother and daughter.”

  Chobuc-re cast a knowing look at the woman, and turned his curiosity off in regards to the little girl. It was not his place to judge.

  Everything went swiftly after that. Chobuc-re detailed a guard to take care of the woman and child; got on his com link with the Muni’s to arrange air transport for Benton and the remaining bodyguards, and a few minutes later they were landing at the compound in the Reserved Zone just east of Vancouver.

  This was definitely Mahk-Ra country -- Galactic technology everywhere, alien entertainment, luxury digs for the new overlords; no humans allowed unescorted. Well, that last specification did not apply to Benton. Living in a zone reserved for the Mahk-Ra was his not so subtle, but very important, statement of power.

  As they arrived, they saw a Mahk-Ra troop ship rising from the spaceport at the center of the Reserved Zone, the gravity fields built up around it into a shimmering heat-wave pattern before it zoomed off almost faster than the eye could follow.

  As Benton entered his Penthouse, Leann met him with a perfectly prepared drink. Minutes ago he was miles away talking to total strangers, but a perfectly made drink was waiting as soon as he stepped through the door. Either she spent the entire day mixing and discarding drinks just to be ready for when he returned, or she had a pretty impressive intelligence apparatus of her own.

  Leann did not disappoint.

  “I hear you have a new girlfriend,” she said. “Not developing an interest in younger women, I hope.” She used the voice that could make an unwary man’s pants bunch at the crotch. Unwariness was not one of Benton’s failings.

  It had been less than ten minutes, and she already knew about his encounter with Ranny and her mother. She definitely had a source inside his guard. Chobuc-re? Possible, but he thought the sergeant too smart to put himself between them.

  Chobuc-re had been with him since Barnard’s Star. Benton trusted him as much as he was capable of trusting anyone. He owed his life to the sergeant many times over. Who then?

  Time would tell. It always did.

  They were total contrasts. Leann, voluptuous beauty personified; Benton, skeletal and severe. She a pure sybarite; he Spartan, only interested in luxuries where they enhanced his ability to exercise power.

  Power.

  That was the aphrodisiac in the relationship. Each finding ways to satisfy needs, and achieve goals through strategic use of the other. No love nest. There was sex whenever he wanted; Leann was highly skilled. But, no, more a mutual power base.

  Leann had outlasted her predecessors. She rarely let her fear of him show, which suited him, and her courage in pursuit of avarice was impressive.

  She possessed a ruthlessness that nearly matched his own, perversions that exceeded him, and she was up to something he hadn’t figured out yet. He had taken steps to rectify that deficit.

  He hoped she remembered that her power flowed from his. It might get messy should he have to remind her. Messier still if she had found a way to change the direction of flow.

  “Arkum-ra’s here,” she said leading the way to the living room.

  Benton set the untouched drink on a table, and followed her in.

  “Ah, Benton!” Arkum-ra turned from the shaded window facing a magnificent view of the spaceport. “I was wondering what might be keeping you. We must hurry, time is short.”

  Benton held up his hand. “A moment, Arkum-ra.” He turned to Leann, “My dear, I believe you have some urgent errand that calls you away?” He smiled his most disquieting smile, “I wouldn’t want to detain you.”

  She stared at him expressionlessly. Her chin came up and then she flashed a smile that could steal men’s souls. “Why, how sweet of you to remember. Yes, most urgent and far out of earshot.” Her expression turned acid as she left the room.

  “With respect, Arkum,” Benton’s voice was a perfect blend of respect and menace, “I’ve warned you of the dangers of talking about our business in front of others.”

  “But, surely, Leann ... ”

  “Would use it like a knife at my throat.”

  Arkum-ra was an experienced power player. Much of his upbringing had flowed around obtaining and holding power; physical and psychological
. He pursed his lips, then nodded, “You suspect Leann may be ready to expand her horizons. How? It would require an extraordinary alliance. She couldn’t offer the same ... liaison? ... that she has with you. No one of sufficiently high rank would risk it. I certainly wouldn’t.”

  Benton spoke into his communicator. “Now.” he said.

  He turned to Arkum-ra, “I assure you, the risk is in your head, I haven’t planted any booby traps on that lovely body.”

  “Perhaps you have, my friend. Consider: If Leann makes a move, and you’re still alive ... Well, I don’t have to elaborate on the possibilities for vengeance, betrayal, and blackmail. If you die? One would always worry how many of the skeletons you’ve buried she might be able to dig up. Neither situation makes for a comfortable alliance. Or, dalliance, for that matter.” He shook his head, “No, one must be cautious, of course, but I think you are far too obsessed by it.”

  “Easy for you to say. If anything goes wrong, the worst you’d face is a reprimand; a recall to the home world; and a stiff fine. I’d be relieved if my punishment began with public evisceration.”

  “Benton, you exaggerate.”

  “I do not. There’s mortal danger here, Arkum. You know as well as I that my cold-blooded, rat-bastard boss would ... ”

  “Stop! Don’t talk this way in front of me, Benton. Tamar-Ra is from an ancient lineage, and above reproach. Don’t test my friendship.”

  “Okay -- my old-blooded, rat-bastard boss,” Arkum-ra clenched his jaw, “would accept any excuse to get rid of me. He’s humiliated by having a human second-in-command. It shames him. He wants my destruction; the grislier the better. He’s not like you, or the few other Mahk-Ra who accept that courage and intelligence may elevate one above his natural station. Nor, I might add, does he share the kind of business interests we share. He would gladly hold the knife during the evisceration.”

  Arkum-ra didn’t dispute the verity of the argument. “It’s true,” he said, “there are not many Mahk-Ra who would mourn you.” He shrugged apologetically, “I promise you on my word, Benton, I have never spoken of this enterprise outside your hearing.”

  “No, of course not, but remember that Leann is not above selling either of us if the price is high enough, and her safety from me is assured. As head of Talon, Tamar-ra might be willing to pay that price. Fortunately, this will all be over in another hour.”

  “Less,” Arkum-ra said, “We’re running late. The container holding the contraband must be aboard the Ra-Prime passenger liner no later than forty-two minutes from now. My agent on the crew expects to receive the container late, and will get it loaded quickly, with no manifest, and no invoice. It will not exist in any record--but only if we can get it there before departure.”

  Benton’s communicator chimed. He tapped the connection, listened for a moment, and said, “Good.” He disconnected.

  “We can discuss this further on the way to the warehouse,” he said. “I’ve just gotten word that Leann has arranged a meeting of her own. With Tamar-ra.”

  “So quickly?”

  “There’s more. The meeting will be here, in my penthouse, in thirty minutes. I think she plans to walk in and discover us still deep in our schemes. She’ll spring, whatever it is she has, in front of me, knowing it will bring my destruction. A remarkable woman.”

  Arkum-ra looked appalled, “Benton! We must get out of here!”

  “Absolutely. The first step is to get rid of the evidence. Get those art masterpieces of yours aboard that liner and off-planet and it’ll be hard to prove we’ve done anything wrong, no matter what Leann thinks she has. Did you arrange for transport?”

  “Yes, the van will be waiting in the vicinity of the warehouse. As you suggested, the driver doesn’t know the exact location, but he will be close by.”

  “Good. Let’s go. I’ll see about arranging the assassination on the way. Won’t be easy. Time is short, and this building is quite secure.”

  Arkum-ra gave him a horrified look.

  Benton curbed his exasperation, “No! No. Not Tamar-ra, that would bring down the wrath of god.”

  “But, who ... Oh.”

  “Exactly. Plug the leak. Now, with respect, shut up while I make a few calls.”

  Benton rang for the bodyguard and began tapping an encrypted number into his communicator as the two of them rushed from the room.

  Less than three minutes later they were in the air headed for the vast warehouse district to the north of the spaceport.

  “No luck,” Benton said, “there isn’t enough time to get anyone into position.”

  Arkum-ra said, “But, Benton, it doesn’t matter. We’re out of the building. By the time they can track us down the shipment will be gone. We’re safe.”

  “Um,” said Benton, “not really. You see, I’m about ninety-eight percent sure that Leann has a spy in my guard.”

  Arkum-ra looked around, “What? You’re certain?”

  “Ninety-eight percent.”

  “Then they know where we are. Where we’re going.”

  “They may know where we are, but not where we’re going. Not yet.”

  “But we’re leading them straight to ... ,” Arkum-ra pulled himself up to his full Mahk-Ra arrogance, and said, “My friend, I assure you, if we meet the worst, I shall do so with honor.”

  Benton replied, “And I assure you, I have no qualms about jettisoning honor to avoid meeting the worst.”

  Arkum frowned. Benton waved it off, “No, forget it. Let me think.”

  After a pause, he stood and moved forward in the transport. “Chobuc-re,” he said.

  The Mahk-Re sergeant turned to face him. Big, even for a member of his race, he towered over the human.

  “Sergeant, I have no doubt about either your loyalty or your honor and I intend no insult. I must ask a question.”

  The Sergeant loomed silently above him.

  “My life may depend on your answer.”

  In a motion so fast that if Benton hadn’t seen it before it would have seemed like magic, Chobuc-re drew the machine pistol from the holster at his side. Benton tensed. The sergeant stood with the weapon in his hand, muzzle pointed down.

  The sergeant said, “We are sworn to your protection, sir.”

  “Yes.”

  Chobuc-re’s presence seemed to push the oxygen from the cabin.

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Benton glanced at the pistol, “I believe Leann has placed a spy in your company.”

  Chobuc-re tensed the mountain of muscle he called a body. “Is this an accusation, sir?”

  Benton heard other weapons being drawn.

  “Not of you, Sergeant. Never. My trust in you is absolute. Nevertheless, I believe there is a spy. What is your best assessment?”

  Chobuc bowed his head, the pistol steady at his side, and said, “If this spy exists, sir, you believe your life is in jeopardy?”

  “If he can report my position, I am a dead man.”

  Chobuc-re raised his head and looked slowly around the cabin. He paused as his eyes met those of one of the newer bodyguards.

  Benton jerked as the pistol arced up level with his head, and fired a single round. He twisted to follow the direction of aim and saw the bodyguard slump to the deck, a pistol half drawn. The boom had been earsplitting, the silence after, deafening.

  Benton looked around. Every Mahk-Re on the transport had a weapon drawn, pointed at the dead guard.

  Arkum-ra sat silently, watching.

  After a long pause, Chobuc-re said, “We are sworn to your protection, sir.”

  Benton swallowed, and nodded. He started back to his seat.

  The sergeant said, “A moment, sir.” He reached down, stripped the communicator from the dead guard, and handed it to Benton. “You may trust us with an exact location, now.”

  Benton winced, and gave directions for the landing.

  As the transport altered course and descended, Benton entered his override code into the dead guard’s communicator. He scrolled throu
gh the last several days. Very informative, the two most recent calls being imperative. Chobuc-re’s judgment had proven correct once again. He showed the readout to Arkum-ra.

  “He has contacted Leann since we left your home,” Arkum-ra said, “and this other encrypted number. I don’t know that coding.”

  “I do,” Benton said, “Tamar-ra.”

  Arkum-ra considered this, and nodded, “The spy had two masters, clever move. Do you think Leann is aware?”

  “No, she hasn’t had much chance to play this particular side of the game. Not at this level. Old Tamar and I have been at it for years. Each of us has occasionally managed to plant someone on the other, but the agents fail to thrive. This time, the luck of timing worked in Tamar-ra’s favor. A few more weeks might have revealed his agent to me. One wonders if Leann’s deal is quite as good as she believes. Tamar won’t pay off if he doesn’t have to.”

  Arkum-ra snorted, “Rat-bastard.”

  Benton smiled his mirthless smile and said, “Indeed.”

  “This means they know where we are, Benton.”

  “No, they knew what direction we were headed,” he checked the time stamp, “twelve minutes ago. I don’t doubt Tamar has dispatched a squad to chase us down, but I’m very careful about the automated traffic control system. I never use it. That doesn’t make me invisible, but it does make me hard to track. Now that we’re down among the buildings, they’ll have to make visual contact to find us.”

  “Homing devices?”

  “Possible, but not likely, my guard is quite diligent.”

  Arkum-ra glanced at the dead guard, and nodded.

  The transport spiraled to a landing in front of the warehouse where the contraband artwork waited. As they climbed out of the vehicle Benton said, “Chobuc-re. We may have visitors coming. They are not welcome.”

  “Sir.” The Sergeant began to deploy the guard.

  “Arkum-ra, call that van, please. We need to get the container loaded and on its way.” Arkum-ra nodded, took his communicator out and strolled up the street to make the call. Benton turned to the large roll-up door, and rang the bell.

  The door to the warehouse rattled up to reveal a large plastic container already sitting on a loader. The paunchy non-descript man opening the door paled when he saw Benton. He glanced at another man driving the loader, but continued to work. The man on the loader nodded to Benton; kept his face blank and his hands down behind the control panel, out of sight.