Cherries were wonderful things. Trish must have tasted something similar—but it had been so long ago in the past she couldn’t remember. Nor would they have been real cherries, but some processed juice, or dried concoction that had come off one of the ships.
These were the genuine article.
As Trish stepped lightly down the hospital corridor, she plucked another one from the sack, popped it in her mouth, and artfully chewed the seed from the fruit. With two fingers she removed the pit and placed it with the rest in her pocket.
Pocket? Well, it wasn’t like she was going to spit them on the hospital floor. And hell, they were seeds. She wondered what they’d be worth in trade to Szong Scuzi, Terry Mishka or one of the other farmers.
It had been almost two weeks since the shooting. The whole town was still talking about it. Hell, if Trish hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it either.
She’d been coming at a run, hadn’t been more than twenty paces away when Talina stopped short in front of Spiro. Trish hadn’t seen the lieutenant’s draw. Just a blur and the pistol appeared pointed at Talina’s head.
Faced with the momentary death of her friend, Trish had been in the act of drawing her own weapon. Had seen Spiro’s pistol discharge, had known that Tal was shot through the head.
And then Talina’s pistol flashed, three thunderous shots ringing out. Impossible as it seemed, Talina was crouched down, her weapon leveled, and Spiro was falling.
Trish hadn’t made more than ten steps when another shot rang out. Deeper, the boom of a rifle, and Michael Chavez had tumbled from the roof of Sheyela’s electronics repair. The man’s body had made a smacking sound as it hit, bones popping.
Moments later, Talbot had emerged from where he’d taken a position behind a hauler’s front wheel, his service rifle in hand as he walked carefully toward the fallen marine.
“Couldn’t let that fucker shoot Talina from ambush,” he’d said later. “That’s not how a marine conducts himself. In the Corps, or out of it.”
Word was that he’d only had a single round of ammunition.
Man like that? Maybe he had a future in Port Authority security. It was worth having a word with Shig, Yvette, and Talina.
With a left hand, Trish pushed the examining room door open to find Dya Simonov unwrapping Talina’s bandage. Tal sat on the bed, looking for all the world like she wanted to kill something.
“How’s the patient? Still butt-ugly for a toilet-sucking excuse of a security officer?”
Talina’s black eyes flashed. “My hearing’s been back for days, Trish.”
“Yeah, too bad, huh? I liked you better the other way. Deaf and bleeding. And I gotta say, that new hairstyle you’ve adopted just flat will stop a bem in its tracks.”
“It will grow back,” Dya said reprovingly as she removed the last of the bandages.
“How bad is it?” Talina asked with a wince.
Dya leaned forward, looking carefully. “I think we can pull the stitches. Probably better do it now. Especially with your hair coming back in.”
“And the powder stippling?”
“That was mostly surface. It’s peeled. Raya excised the deeper speckles.”
“So, Tal’s going to be, well, like normal again?” Trish asked.
“She’ll hardly have a scar. Another couple of months for the hair to grow back, and you won’t know the difference.
“Ooh. Too bad on all counts.”
Talina glanced sidelong at Trish. “You got a reason for being here?”
“Yeah, I got a reason; Kalico sent you a sack of cherries. But if you don’t want them, I can just turn around and—”
“Cherries?” Dya and Tal asked in unison.
“Kalico went down to Mundo?” Dya asked first. “Did she see Kylee?”
“Nope. They definitely kept their eyes out. Broadcast your message on the loudspeakers. Left a radio like you requested and instructions on how to use it. Used high resolution scan, thermal, IR, LiDAR, you name it. They had hits on plenty of quetzals. Well, six at least. No little girls.”
Dya’s eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. “I should go down there.”
Talina laid a hand on the woman’s wrist. “And do what? Feed a quetzal?”
Dya tried to smile. Couldn’t.
“And Dya, you better brace yourself. Word is that the dome’s fallen. Just like Hofer said it would.”
Dya nodded, looking as if her heart was tearing in two.
“Kalico got her trees,” Trish said. “Took the seedlings like you and Su agreed. Left the mature trees to hold the line. Took armored marines to do it—quetzals popping out of the forest as they were—but they got a good harvest from the farm. Including these cherries.”
She popped another in her mouth.
Talina’s eyes narrowed. “Thought those were my cherries?”
“Hey, who’s been all over town looking for your chapped ass? I’m doing you a favor. You think I’m going to pass up cherries? And if I wasn’t a true friend, I’d have sat down on the other side of the fence and eaten the whole sack. You’d never have known.”
Talina looked thunder and mayhem at her. Trish smiled. Handed over the sack.
As Talina took it, Trish asked, “So, Dya? Want some help pulling them stitches? If we can get Tal to pass out, I’ll share the rest of those cherries with you.”
“Pass out?” Dya asked. “It’s just at furrow through her scalp. Barely touched the outer table of her skull. She’ll barely feel the stitches being pulled as it is.”
“Some friend,” Talina groused.
“Hey, into every life a little rain must fall, and I’m your thunderstorm.”
“Yeah,” Talina agreed. “You’re the rain, and I’m the lightning. But eating my cherries? That’s going too far.”
Then Talina shot her wicked wink, popped a cherry into her mouth. Having done so, she offered the sack to Trish. And the world was once again a fine place.