Tuesday's Gold (Shining Stars and Silver Bullets Book 1) Page 2

  The flashing lights on the signs advertising the tantalizing Old Earth games stopped their manic flicker and locked into a position of either on or off like a light switch. Then, as her meditative state increased, everything around Eliza Moche seemed to grow blurred…everything except for the challenger before her. She noticed every detail about her adversary, like the tiny flare of his nostrils as he breathed and the single bead of sweat that had formed on his upper lip when he’d noticed just how comfortable she was around death.

  He suddenly reached for his pistols. To Eliza it seemed a slow and cumbersome move, and in her enhanced state of awareness, she even caught the glint of incandescent light reflecting off of his polished nails as his hands went down.

  Drawing her own weapon was as simple as a child pointing a “finger-gun” and saying “bang!”

  Only this time, when the “bang” happened, the handsome gentleman flew backwards, hurtling over a dozen slot machines and landing face first on a craps table, throwing up a shower of crimson chips as his lifeless body hit the felt.

  And the gentleman, who’d thought himself fast, was dead.

  Time resumed its normal pace, hurtling back into her awareness like a stampede of Old Earth cattle. The bells and lights all over the casino suddenly flashed and screamed like sirens, jolting Eliza back into reality.

  She scooped up the abandoned chips on the poker table.

  Then, after placing the chips in a small, leather purse at her belt, she strode quickly from the casino, ignoring the stunned and frightened expressions that followed her as she stepped outside.

  3 ROSA

  The earth churned beneath Rosa Santos's feet, throwing up a rooster tail of dust one hundred feet high that billowed behind her. As the wind howled around the girl's ears and the sagebrush and chaparral blurred by, she was aware of little but the directive from her father.

  Find Eliza Moche.

  At the speed she was running, she estimated the arrival to her target at precisely one hour and thirty-three minutes. The distance was just over seventy miles.

  Her feet, like pistons, pounded across the desert, but she felt no discomfort whatsoever. She was not unlike an Old Earth locomotive, rushing to her destination. The part of her that knew she was a machine exulted in the knowledge and efficiency of her powerful design. But her human part thrilled at the feel of the wind on her face, the scent of the chaparral and sage and the sight of the desert landscape whizzing by in her peripheral vision. While she ran, Rosa’s thoughts wandered to the file where she kept images of the ancient Earth culture.

  She examined each one and surveyed all of the details, studying the pictures in her computer-like brain with a focused intensity that would have been taken for passion in any other life form.

  An old barn. Skyscrapers. A birthday party. People talking on mobile phones. Children playing with their parents at the beach.

  Happy Families.

  If the treasure her father told her about was really true then maybe it would allow her to see such things for real. If there was only a way to feel and experience what she saw in the pictures she would give anything… anything to step inside one of them for just an hour. She and her Papi, walking through the strange city called Des Moines having an ice cream cone and gazing at the tall buildings.

  The thought filled her with excitement. But then, the feeling changed. Unbidden, a terrible image of her father killed by Malo… the man in black her father had always told her might someday come, suddenly flickered through her magnificently organized mind.

  These occurrences were rare. She’d been told that as a rule that androids like her mother could access data at will and could always control when and what they wanted to view.

  Rosa knew that the image had been generated by her cybernetic imagination and that the underdeveloped emotional response she felt when seeing it was just another product of her strange, combined parentage of being a human and an android.

  She knew that the idea that a machine and a human could reproduce was disgusting to mainstream society even though most had heard the rumors that androids were complex organisms that incorporated human tissue into their mechanical infrastructures.

  But it made most of the human citizens more comfortable to believe that such things were impossible.

  And consequently, Rosa had spent most of her young existence living in secret. She was treated kindly by most of the androids and for the most part, was kept away from the patrons.

  She’d known about her strange origin as long as she could remember. The inner knowledge that she was part machine affected her when it came to understanding the complexity of human emotions. Because she was often confused by the negative reactions to what appeared to be a human/android hybrid from the few patrons she’d accidentally encountered while at her disreputable home, she’d often experienced waves of deep sadness and confusion.

  Why are humans so mean? Isn't there anyone besides Papi who could love me for exactly who and what I am?

  Rosa knew that she shouldn't waste her time on such emotional feelings. She chose instead to see these occasional emotional anomalies as “malfunctions,” a defect in her otherwise perfect programming.

  So, as she sped across the endless desert and the image of her dead father filled her inner view screen, she suddenly felt a second fleeting emotional response, a dim awareness of terrible loss. The confusion that this produced in her meticulous, inner workplace was noticeable. Emotional loss was something that she couldn’t weigh, measure or sum. And yet, it was also something she couldn’t escape.

  My father is probably dead and I have nowhere to go. I am alone!

  A feeling of terror threatened to wash over her. She tried to quell the feeling of panic, reminding herself that if she could find the incredible treasure that people called Tuesday’s Gold it would mean that she could provide a future for herself.

  She forced herself to believe that she’d been created for a great and powerful purpose.

  Even if nobody else felt that way.

  Her perfectly timed step faltered. Careening off course, she narrowly avoided crashing into a boulder, tearing a small hole in the hem of her dress she passed. At the speed in which she was traveling such a miscalculation could have been catastrophic.

  Adjust. Compensate!

  After narrowly avoiding the obstacle, she mentally replaced her treasured collection of images back in her inner folder and turned her entire awareness back to the task at hand.

  Find Eliza Moche.

  Her destiny depended on it.

  4 THE MARSHAL

  His hands were the size of frying pans and his neck a tree trunk. A tailor’s nightmare, there was no amount of cloth that could be sewn into a suit that could fit his enormous stomach properly. Might as well try making clothes for a starship, one tailor had quipped to another during a private fitting.

  It was the last joke that particular tailor ever made. Tammus McBride, the brother of Toro, “Tuesday” McBride, didn’t tolerate nonsense of any kind and used his formidable bulk to make his point.

  Tuesday and Tammus were two halves of the same coin.

  One was an outlaw and the other a lawman.

  The twin brothers had agreed that if they found the treasure, that they would share the legendary wealth between them…that is, whatever was left after the Feds took their cut of the goods, of course.

  Tammus had learned early on that you had to keep the government on your side if you wanted to survive. After all, they controlled just about everything.

  The benefit for Tuesday had been that his brother, a high ranking official in the Federation, had always looked the other way whenever he committed crimes. It meant that Tuesday had the luxury of being exempt from prosecution and it had been quite easy for him to build a reputation as being the most feared outlaw in the galaxy. He had done anything he wanted and made a special point of indulging every whim he possessed, all in the name of “searching for treasure.”

  Tammus missed his
brother dearly.

  He knew about the three children who had heard his brother’s dying words. And one of them, he knew very well indeed.

  Eliza Moche.

  And she was a constant source of irritation to him even though he needed her. He had reason to believe that she would lead him to the treasure and wanted to keep her within his sights.

  But that had proven far more difficult that he’d planned. For she was as crafty and slippery as any outlaw that had ever lived, including his brother.

  The stool upon which he was standing groaned beneath him as he surveyed himself in the mirror. A feathered alien's shaking talon lifted a long tape along the enormous breadth of his shoulders. The little Talorian knew McBride by reputation and in spite of the impossible measurements he was recording, he didn’t want the man to think his designer suit impossible.

  “When will it be ready?" McBride rumbled.

  The Talorian made a few, anxious whistling noises through its beak. McBride cringed at the sound. His delicate ears were sensitive to high pitches and he would have proceeded to twist the little alien had it not stopped and switched to the Universal tongue.

  “Three weeks your Eminence. Give or take delivery time.”

  “Eminence? I’m not a religious man, Tessal, and I don’t like titles. Marshal McBride will suffice.”

  “Yes your… Marshal-ness…sir,” Tessal said.

  The little, bird-like alien shifted uncomfortably. The crimson feathers on its neck ruffled in agitation as it considered the penalty for lying to a Govenant Marshal. Tessal knew that delivery on a suit such as McBride was ordering would be nigh impossible to get in three weeks. As far as he knew, there were no tailors on this world or any other that would have the skill to create something so unusually proportioned.

  He had to admit that there was something about the giant that didn’t seem quite natural. Something disturbing that he couldn’t point his talon at.

  But he was in no position to question anything about his dangerous client. He just wanted the big human out of his shop as soon as possible.

  Tessal glanced nervously at the marshal. The Govenant was dangerous and its unwelcome presence had been felt on their planet for over a year now.

  It was time to fly the coop!

  McBride retrieved his lengthy gun belt and after buckling it on and checking to make sure his Colts were loaded, he pinned his marshal’s badge on his pocket and paid the alien in Govenant credits. Ignoring the simpering lies from the tailor that everything would be perfect and delivered on time, McBride stepped outside of the tiny shop and into the Talorian marketplace.

  High, fluttering tents made of multicolored cloth were equipped with nest-like dwellings for their inhabitants on impossibly high trees. Talorian clientele were perched on branches and merchants tossed their wares up and down between customers in intricate juggling patterns.

  McBride, sweating now, surveyed the dexterity of the strange creatures as they snatched the little containers of goods from the merchants with their claw-like appendages and tossed similar bags weighted with payments skyward. He couldn’t help calculating the angles of each thrown pouch, the geometry and physics at play in every toss.

  He told himself to stop doing it, but the calculations kept flashing through his mind. It was just the way he was wired.

  Idiotic creatures.

  His inner ear gave off a tiny chime.

  He removed a small communicator from his pocket and raised it to his ear even though he really didn’t need it.

  “McBride,” he answered.

  The voice on the other end sounded excited. “You big ape! Where you been all afternoon?”

  There was only one person in the world that would’ve dared to talk to McBride in such a way… his supervisor, Captain Elgius. He was the closest thing that Tammus had ever had to a friend.

  But if the legends about the treasure were true, McBride would see to it that he would never have to listen to another incompetent tell him what to do for the rest of his life. He would be a king… indulging in every wish he desired. He would be immortal!

  The thought made him sweaty with anticipation. His brother’s treasure map was all he wanted. After all, it was his by right! All of his forays on behalf of the Govenant to find it for them was just an excuse to fund his personal quest. If he ever found the map he would never turn it over to them in spite of what he’d promised.

  Never in a million years.

  “I’ve been assessing Talorious,” McBride said as he gazed around the marketplace with a disgusted expression. “Frankly, I don’t think it’s here.” He wrinkled his nose. “Everything smells like the week old lining of a bird cage and in my opinion it would be a waste of time to question them. If they had the map wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

  “Forget Talorius. I want you out of there in five minutes, Tam. We got a hot lead on you know who. There was a shooting in a casino on Terra Six and sources have identified her as Eliza Moche.”

  McBride's eyes narrowed. “Which one?“

  “Whattya mean ‘which one?’ THE ELIZA MOCHE! THE ONE WE’VE BEEN LOKING FOR!” he screamed.

  “On it, Cap,” McBride barked, wincing at his supervisor’s shouts. His boss didn’t know as much about Eliza Moche as he did. Tammus knew many of her secrets, even ones that she herself didn’t know.

  And he’d gained much of what he knew through torture. But that was a matter left buried in his past. As far as the Federation knew, his record was spotless and he intended to keep it that way.

  As the line in his ear went dead, McBride wheeled from where he stood and stomped purposefully to the landing pad where his Govenant ship was docked. The ship was a nondescript cruiser: gunmetal gray with official markings and the name TUESDAY, after his poor, murdered brother, emblazoned on the massive bow.

  McBride waved off the Talorian attendants who were wheeling out a mounting ladder, a courtesy extended to all ship captains, but especially those of larger than average girth.

  The marshal was far from helpless, even with his enormous stomach.

  With a mighty leap, McBride launched himself towards the hatch door. He hit the side of the ship like a wrecking ball.

  Ignoring the gasps, hoots and concerned squawks of the attendants below, the lawman squeezed his massive bulk inside the ship. Seconds later, he was at the controls, programming the autopilot for Terra Six.

  The smell inside the ship was a mix of rancid meat and flatulence. McBride’s exceptional taste in clothing didn’t extend to his living quarters. The ship was a disaster inside, a hoarder’s paradise.

  But Tammus McBride was nothing if not a walking paradox. He was many things. He kept secrets. And he had his own reasons for tracking down Eliza Moche. He needed to find her and he needed to find the girl. After that, he could enact his master plan and get the thing he desired most.

  He would be invincible. And he could finally track down that damned doctor once and for all.

  All it would take is a little patience and all of his cunning.

  As the ship exploded from the launching pad and rocketed into the atmosphere, McBride allowed himself a contented smile.

  He reached behind his ripped captain’s chair into a pile of refuse and grabbed a bag of moldering meat chips. Then, after shoveling them into his mouth, he laughed, spraying the cockpit with half chewed bits of food.

  The outlaw, Eliza Moche had evaded him for the last time.

  5 UNWANTED CARGO

  Eliza Moche wasted no time in vacating the casino. Once outside, shesaddled her horse and, after igniting its fission engine, blasted herself as far away from Thorny Gulch as the machine could carry her.

  Her ride vaguely resembled an Old Earth horse. Eliza resented machines in general and would have preferred a living animal. But such creatures were so rare that they were almost mythical.

  Her “horse” carried a single rider, had a place to mount, and was fueled by organic matter. But that’s where the comparison fell sh
ort. There was nothing faster for terrestrial travel than a Syntech Fission Horse. It had its own mini-nuke reactor and could reach speeds faster than most Gov fighters.

  As she crouched in the saddle, Eliza activated the readout inside of her helmet, checking for any signs of pursuit. Her criminal record was looking more and more like a long, Govenant "To Do" list, with the top priority for all officers being to bring her in to their warped courts and see that she fried like an egg.

  There was definitely someone tracking her. But upon closer examination, she saw that it wasn’t a Govenant ship. It was something else.

  “Analyze.”

  The computer, which had a processor speed that was as fast as the horse she rode, froze. After a full three seconds, the readout on her view screen read.

  “Unknown.”

  Eliza stared at the digital display, puzzled. Whatever it was, it was approaching faster than ninety-five percent of the land based vehicles in existence, faster even than a Govenant cruiser.

  “Let’s see how bad you want me,” she murmured, pressing down hard with her booted foot. The touch sensitive stirrup responded instantly and she shot forward with redoubled speed.

  But after a few minutes of hurtling across the desert the readout showed that no amount of velocity would shake her pursuer. Whoever it was, they were riding in something that could easily adjust to her new pace.

  Eliza slowed her horse. If whomever was chasing her couldn’t be outrun, they would have to be stopped. Her ship was over thirty kilometers away and she felt certain that the person who chased her would catch up well before she reached it.

  The horse’s turbines whined as it slammed to a halt, activating its air brakes. Eliza leapt from the saddle while it was still moving, expertly regaining her feet after impacting the green sand with her weapon drawn and ready.