Samael's Fire (8 page)

“Empani?”

“One of Samael’s glories.” As if that explained everything. “That one got caught up in you. It won’t bother you again.”

The woman was naked but for two pieces of shimmering material held over her front and backside by two tiny fairies sitting on her shoulders. Naked male fairies. Virile little naked male fairies.

“You see me.” She seemed pleased by this fact.

“How did you get onto the annex? Who are you?” Char moved backwards, but the door was on the opposite side of the room past the woman. “Did you come with Jake?”

Only that wasn’t Jake.

“As you
 
do
 
see me, aren’t you forgetting something?” She raised an eyebrow as if Char had committed some transgression. The fairies glared. Their wings fluttered—angrily, in Char’s opinion.

Where had this hallucination come from? There was nothing in Char’s past. No childhood story, no class in ancient folklore she could think of that featured such characters.

“Characters! Stupid human. Submit!”

Char’s body flung itself to the floor, prostrate and trembling like some novice waiting for god.

God?

“Much better.” The hallucination came closer. With each step, Char’s body shook with increasing violence. She couldn’t handle much more of this.

“Oh, fine.” The hallucination stopped and sighed. “I won’t smite you. Sophia knows we haven’t the luxury these days.” She stomped her foot and spread her hands, like a child demanding a favored toy. “We need our holy fires!”

“What are you?” Char risked the question. A hallucination shouldn’t be able to hurt her. But then how had it thrown her to the floor?

“I am that I am, you ignorant creature!”

The fairies’ wings beat as fast as a hummingbird’s, and Char’s heart felt like it would match the pace. What was happening? She was so hot. And disoriented, obviously. Maybe the annex had been attacked. Maybe she’d been flung into space and was dying, in the thrall of some kind of narcosis.

In desperation, she surrendered to the vision. “What do you want of me?”

“Better still.” The hallucination’s voice quieted, and Char’s shaking subsided.

In fact, she felt quite wonderful. Like she’d just lost ten pounds after weeks of healthy food and good exercise and tons of sleep.

“I am that I am,” the hallucination repeated, this time in sweet tones that permeated to Char’s core and left her content. With a sense of the perfection of all existence.

“My names are without number. Daughter of Sophia. Ishtar, Inanna, Astarte. Asherah. Consort to Samael, no matter how he denies it. Rise, creature.”

Char sprang to her feet. Her body tingled. Was it excitement? Anticipation? Delusional euphoria?

“You may call me Asherah. Or goddess. I have chosen you to receive my revelation.”

So delusional euphoria then. “Okay, Asherah. I’ll play. Give me your revelation.”

Char didn’t tremble in fear. She didn’t swoon in ecstasy. Everything went dark, and there were only Asherah’s blue—then white-gray—eyes.

It was supposed to be a small favor, the Sacramento stop. They could take care of it while picking up a latte. Just usher an orbit virgin to her boarding gate.

Nothing like hauling whisky to Aleppo or running TU thugs to secret meetings in dead-of-winter Volgograd. Just make sure Mike’s friend with the fake ID got past IHS and onto the Imperial shuttle. It barely registered in the tick-tick-tick of Mike’s ongoing requests.

Mike came with the gig; without him, they’d be grounded.

When the
 
Junque
 
was denied an orbit license because of Rani’s genetic markers, Mike threw out his chest and issued Imperial data links on the spot. Links which gave access to every port in the Imperium, sky or ground, and turned the
 
Space Junque
 
into a going concern.

Links which Mike could rescind on a whim.

Unlike Rani, Jake never resented their childhood friend’s ascent to power. Truth be told, Governor Augustine was a paragon of honesty and fair-dealing compared to your average public official.

But the wind was now the whirlwind. Tyler dead, Rani off the ship, mushroom clouds in bloom throughout North America—and orbit was about to become a nightmare.

Jake reached for the com as the
 
Junque
 
drew within range of contact with the V. As he sent out a signal, a private shuttle passed by in the opposite direction. It was close enough to make out its sunflower logo and the pilot’s long curly hair.

The DOGs had off-planet vehicles.
 
Shibad
. The shuttle seemed to ignore the
 
Junque
, but Jake switched off communications in case it had a data spider. He’d contact Rani on his personal com when he got closer and have her meet him at the docking bay for a quick pickup.

He wanted to get back to the I. He wanted to get back to Char.

An old conversation with his mother popped into his head.

Find a nice girl, Jacob, and let her make you happy. Until then, take the shuttle and stay out of your father’s crosshairs.

But Magda, you’re not nice.

I’m not talking about me, son.

Right. Magda was a brilliant woman, but not much for judging a man’s character. Jake lived at the edge of the law and often stepped to the other side. He hated the Imperial government but didn’t do anything about it. He sympathized with the DOGs but couldn’t abide their methods.

Aside from Magda and Rani, he didn’t much like anybody. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he certainly wasn’t nice. He was worse than good or evil. He was neutral. Nothing.

He should have stayed neutral in the matter of Char Meadowlark. He should have dropped her off and returned straightaway to Vacation Station. That was the plan, even after she jumped on him when they broke atmosphere.

To be fair, he might have jumped on her too. A little bit. Still, he should have docked and dashed.

It was the hair that tripped him up. That crayon-black color had to come out of a bottle, but then Char’s kisses lacked the tell-tale aftertaste of cosmetic pharmaceuticals. Women who used that stuff tasted funny, no matter what Rani said.

Once he discovered that Char Meadowlark was chemical-free, he noticed she was kind of…well, nice. What was she doing with Mike? She said her sister was his fiancée, but Mike wasn’t engaged to anybody.

Jake was already in the Blue Marble unnoticed in the corner when Char walked through the door. Something animalistic and territorial had swept over him when Mike put his hands on her like she already belonged to him.

The clashing vibes had been obvious. Mike wanted Char, but she wasn’t picking up the signals. An intensely satisfying fact.

Movement, not too far off, caught Jake’s attention. Bare eyes alone, he could see two ships heading up from the planet. He suddenly understood why the fake ID.

He’d wondered what was so urgent Mike couldn’t wait for legitimate papers to get Char Meadowlark off planet. He was the shibbing governor. All he had to do was say jump.

But questions would have been asked.

Mike must have known those strikes were coming. If the
 
Junque
 
had been returning to the surface, would he have warned Jake and Rani not to go?

“Destination ETA: one minute, thirty seconds.” The audionav brought Jake back to the present, and he sent a link request to the V for docking data. At the same time, his personal com buzzed in his ear.

“Rani. I was just about to call.” The
 
Junque
 
turned to line up for docking. “I’m here.”

“Jake, stay away from the docking bay.”

“I see what you mean.”

The V was under attack. Not by DOGs. Too many incoming civilians were trying to land at once. Two personal shuttles had crashed into each other and were heading in a mash-up toward the VIP airlock. Another ship was out of control, spinning on its own axis and on course for an observation deck that jutted out from the main hull.

No sunflowers. No one intent on destruction. Just panicked pilots. Idiots. This was going to be tricky.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In our favorite storage room behind the arcade,” Rani said, typically calm. Not much flustered that woman. Except Geraldo. “I’m with some people who need a ride.”

“Yeah? How many?” You take people on your ship, you’re responsible for them. Not a complication he wanted even in uninteresting times.

“They saved my life, Jake.”

“Shiba-dang-dib!” A transport flew over the
 
Junque
 
close enough to cause damage if it had any appendages. Jake killed the data link to the V and moved further out on the station’s perimeter.

“That wasn’t aimed at you,” he said into the com. “Things are happening here too. So. People who save our lives get rides, no problem. Can you get down to the auxiliary bay?”

“Precisely what I had in mind, boss. See you there.”

Jake smiled. He hadn’t flown, really flown, the
 
Junque
 
since they installed the data links. Programmed flight was less likely to kill you, but it was also far less fun. He considered it an impressive sign of self-discipline that he refrained from pulling a loop.

He swung the
 
Junque
 
down to the obscure hull door that Tyler had christened the auxiliary bay. It was really a garbage outlet. They’d used it a few years ago to transfer fifty cases of Lagavulin whisky onto the V and sidestep half a year’s worth of red tape. One of Mike’s favors.

“I’ve overridden the lock,” Rani said in his ear. “Let me know when you’ve sealed the tunnel. It’s noisy in here.”

He eased the ship sideways and shot the boarding tunnel out onto the V’s hull. The maneuver only worked because the outlet door was small enough to fit within the tunnel’s diameter. Once the vacuum seal took hold, he compressed the tunnel so only a few feet separated the
 
Junque
 
and the station. He opened the
 
Junque’s
 
door to fill the space with air.

“Okay, Rani. You can pop it.”

He unbuckled and launched himself from his seat then ran through the passenger cabin. In the cargo bay he dug a stunner out of the storage locker. If Rani’s life needed saving, things must be pretty serious.

At the tunnel the hull door opened with the grinding screech of metal on metal. Shouts came from the other side. “Wait! You stand back!” A young girl, by the sound of it. “The matriarch goes first.”

Jake yanked the door wider and a frail-looking older lady peeked around at him. She stopped when she saw his stunner.

“There’s no time to think about it, ma’am, but I’m the good guy.” He held out his free hand to help her through the tunnel.

Immediately behind the old lady, a not-so-spry child tumbled out of the door with two more on her heels. “One at a time!” the yeller inside cried, and an orderly line of little girls flowed past Jake into the
 
Junque’s
 
cargo bay.

“Rani?” Jake said into his com, just as her comparatively gigantic self stepped through the hull door.

Bringing up the rear was a child half Rani’s size with striking blood-red hair and silver blazes at the temples. She nudged Rani’s hip like one of Magda’s sheepdogs, then ran to join the matriarch.

Jake looked at Rani. “You want to explain to me how your life was saved by a pack of children?”

Before she could answer, a grotesquely fat man leaned against the door and peered into the tunnel. When he saw Rani, his eyes lit up and he started to come through. “You ain’t going nowhere, you shibbin’ mutant!” He raised a weapon.

Jake fired the stunner. The guy screamed and fell back as prickles of electricity swarmed up his arm and over his shoulder.

“Sure thing, boss.” Rani kicked the mutant hater’s foot through the opening and slammed the door shut with one hand. “After we get out of here.”

They ducked into the cargo bay. As Jake closed the
 
Junque’s
 
side door and retracted the tunnel, Rani headed toward the passenger cabin.