Out on the aircar field, Talina Perez walked up and slapped a hand against the hull of Kalico’s heavy airtruck. The vehicle had been unloaded from Ashanti’s hold the day before. Had spent all night with its powerpack on charge from Port Authority’s grid.
Kalico had been living the high life back in Transluna when the last airtruck on Donovan had failed, stranding its cargo and passengers atop a ridge out in the Blood Mountains. The hull, stripped of anything useful, still sat there as a lonely beacon of dying dreams.
“You really think this is a good idea?” Talina asked, squinting in Capella’s reflected light where it beamed off the polished duraplast bodywork.
Kalico turned as a wagon was trundled up to the tailgate and Terry Miska began handing crates of produce up to his wife Sasha. They’d had a bumper crop of okra and broccoli. Not to mention that they’d managed a good harvest from the wheat and rye crop. All staples that didn’t grow at Tyson Station.
“They’re still technically Corporate,” Kalico told her. “Legally, they remain my responsibility.” She indicated the containers of wheat being loaded into the back of the airtruck. “After the food offering they gave us last time, maybe this will soften the blow. No telling how they’re going to react when I tell them that their prophets are victims of dementia.”
“Why don’t you wait? Give it a couple of days. At least until I get back. Then I’ll go along.”
“I’ll be fine. They didn’t even raise a finger last time Talbot was out there. If we have to eat another meal of Tyson green beans, I’m going to puke. Privates Carson and Muldare will be backup. They’ll handle security.”
“They going along in combat armor? With tech?”
“Thought about it. But after Talbot’s last trip, I think the Unreconciled have figured out how much they need us. Besides, I can handle it.” She tapped the butt of the pistol on her hip. “Compared to mobbers, Freelander, and Tam Benteen, what are some whacked-out cannibals?”
“It’s a cult.”
“They’re unarmed. Mostly malnourished women and children. It’s just a hop out to drop off a load of food and to let them know what we discovered about the prophets. Give them a heads up that the people susceptible to kuru, the ones who are infected? Well, there’s nothing we can do for them.”
“So, why can’t you do that with Carson and Muldare wearing armor?”
“Like that woman, Svetlana, told Talbot: Someone has to start treating them like human beings. By now it’s sinking in that they’re really going to make it, and they have to be asking questions: What’s the future? How are we going to be treated? Are we abandoned out here? Cut off like pariahs? Are we condemned to be monsters?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Oh, come on, Tal. You, of all people, should know what it’s like when everyone is looking at you like you’re some sort of freak. Or have you forgotten why you ran off to Rork Springs?”
“My point is that they’re not going to break down and sob over the future if your marines are in armor.”
“Maybe, but it’s a symbol that they’re not trusted.”
“Damn straight.”
“If they were going to cause trouble, they’d have tried something with Talbot.”
“So why you taking this?” Talina thumbed the side of the airtruck. “I’d be a hell of a lot happier if you rode out there in the shuttle.”
“The A-7’s up in orbit for repairs. Makarov’s got the Ashanti shuttle techs doing a refit. Hell, we were only about four hundred hours overdue for maintenance on that bird. It’ll be about a week, and she’ll be back to as close to pristine as we can get without a space dock. This has the battery capacity to fly me out and back without a recharge.”
“So you’re placing your faith in an untested airtruck to meet with a bunch of cannibals, tell them their holy men are demented, and your marines aren’t wearing armor when you do it.”
“You make it sound insane.”
“No shit.”
At that junction Mark Talbot—pack and rifle slung over his shoulder—rounded the airtruck; his wife, Dya Simonov walked at his side. “We ready?”
Talina called, “Dya, tell me you’re not part of this insanity.”
“Hey, Tal. I’m the biologist and geneticist tagging along to answer any technical questions about the prion. Besides, they radioed in that they’ve got a couple of sick kids. I’m going to take a look at them. Decide if we need to bring them back to Raya for treatment.”
“And where are you headed to?” Kalico asked, obviously happy to change the direction of the conversation.
“Taking Taglioni out to the Briggs’ place. He wants to meet Wild Ones.”
“And you call me crazy? You know what’ll happen to you if that guy gets so much as a scratch? Let alone parasitized by a slug? Or worse, eaten?”
Talina arched a suggestive eyebrow. “The terrible Taglionis don’t worry me.”
“Well, they should.” Kalico gave her a humorless grin. “I was in bed with Miko. Literally. When I got here, discovered Ashanti was missing and Derek with it, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.”
“He may not be such a bad guy,” Talina said.
“The scum-sucker I met a couple of times back on Transluna? A real piece of work. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe, down under all that Taglioni cunning, he hasn’t. He’s a quetzal, Tal. And you think I’m crazy?” Kalico turned. “Come on, folks. Let’s saddle up, as they say. Carson? Muldare? You aboard?”
“Here, Supervisor!” Carson’s dark face appeared in the doorway.
A slam from the rear tailgate was accompanied by Terry Miska’s call, “You’re loaded, Supervisor. Thanks for the business.”
Kalico put a foot in the step and swung up to the cab. “See you when I get back.”
“Hey,” Talina slapped the airtruck again. “This thing starts giving you trouble, remember, the Briggs homestead is your closest refuge. If you’re down on charge, don’t even think of flying it all the way back here.”
“Got it.” Kalico took a place in the front where she could see.
As she waved at Tal, she reassured herself. It would just be out and back.