 
THE DAUGHTER OF GETH

### by

### John Joseph Doody

Published by eTreasures Publishing, LLC at Smashwords

ISBN 978-1942391-25-8

Copyright 2015 John Joseph Doody

All Rights Reserved.

Cover Artist: Suzannah Safi

Illustrations: Kerry Doody

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any format or by any means without express written consent from the publisher. This book in electronic format may not be re-sold or re-distributed in any manner without express written permission from the publisher.

First Publication, November 2015

Published in the United States of America

Published by: eTreasures Publishing, LLC

4442 Lafayette St.

Marianna, FL 32446

http://www.etreasurespublishing.com

This book is entirely fiction and bears no resemblance to anyone alive or dead, in content or cover art. Any instances are purely coincidental. This book is based solely on the Author's vivid imagination.

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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# Prologue

# Morning Toill

The old woman woke in her rocking chair and rubbed her eyes. A yellow sliver of light shone through the narrow window onto the old plank floor of her tiny home in Geth's eastern city. She stood and shuffled, bent at the waist, to a little table with two chairs where she performed her magic and read futures for paying customers.

She sat with a grunt, lifted a flowered box from beneath the table, and then hoisted it above her head and shook it. She set it on the table and opened it. Peering inside, she gasped. "Today is the day. I didn't realize it had come so soon."

Struggling to her feet, her back crooked and bent, she stared at the floor. As she hobbled to the splintering plank door, the boards creaked beneath her. She dragged the door open on its rusted hinges. Outside, the Geth sun had risen above the leaning stone buildings, and her alley was empty of passersby.

Enjoying the quiet, she crooked her weathered face up at the green sky, and the silhouettes of the six moons peeked from behind a bank of white clouds. "Yes, he will be here today. I am certain."

Dirt crunched under hurrying feet and echoed against the stone buildings. She cast an irritated glance in the direction of the intrusion. A young Gethite with long, tangled hair, wearing a jacket fashioned from animal skins, and a pair of hide boots, hurried toward her direction. Many workers in the downtown market took this shortcut from time to time...the bravest ones only.

He slowed when he spotted her, and then he hesitated, as if he considered turning back.

"Read your future, young Gethite in my alley? A hundred thousand krachnards."

He shook his head. "I have no money, mother. I'm just trying to get to work in the city, and I'm late."

She hissed. "Then I'll curse you for disturbing me."

He chucked her a coin, and it landed near her foot. She scooped it up from the stoop, eyed it, and stuffed it in a pocket of her black dress. "The next time you pass through my alley, bring me the rest of my hundred thousand krachnards, or I'll curse you." She let out a long, bubbling fart and put her hands on her hips. "Someone's playing my song." She cackled.

The young Gethite scurried down the alley.

She cocked her head and peered at the sky. "The Thieves Guild pilot is coming. My dreams are always true." Dancing a jig, she sang, "I'm so pretty, oh so pretty..."

"You're really not that pretty." A small girl wearing a worn but clean brown dress to her ankles stood before her.

The girl stood barefoot, and she had probing green eyes and silky hair. The old woman had seen her many times before, crossing her alley, but this was the first time she spoke to her. "I'm a man magnet, small fry. How old are you?"

"Twelve...going on thirteen." The girl frowned. "Does it hurt to be bent like that?"

The old woman shook her head and farted.

"Can you do that anytime you want?"

She smiled slightly "Why are you sneaking around my alley?"

The girl frowned. "My papa says your name is Morning Toill. You're a witch...maybe the last witch on Geth. He says to stay away from you, and not to make you mad or you'll curse me, but I don't think he really believes in curses. I've watched you threaten to curse people, and they give you money. I think your curses are real."

"I've seen you many times in my alley, and you have never spoken to me," the old woman repeated, her voice cracking. "Why today are you speaking to me?"

The girl stepped closer and opened her hand. She carried a gold coin. "I've worked very hard to save this much money. I want you to curse someone for me."

"Who would that be?"

"A boy," she said. "He called me ugly, and he spat on me. His name is Jaffe Lod, and I hate him. I want something terrible to happen to him."

"What is your name?"

"Elle Aliee."

"Does your papa wear merchant's clothes and work a produce stand in the center market?"

She nodded.

"I have seen him once or twice, and he is a decent man, even if he doesn't believe in my curses. I will not curse the boy."

The girl clenched her fists. "Why not?"

"My curses never lift, Elle Aliee. Your hatred for the boy is wrong. I sat on the lap of my father Geth, and he taught me that a curse outlives a change of heart, so I am very careful who I curse."

Elle Aliee's eyes widened. "You knew Geth? How old are you?"

"I don't know my age." The old woman frowned. "He kissed my cheeks every night at bedtime when we still lived in the palace. The place is long gone now." She farted. "That was an accident. Take your money and give it to the family of Jaffe Lod. This will solve your problem."

Elle Aliee shook her head. "I hate him. I'd never give his family anything." She turned to go.

"Wait. I have something for you." The old woman hurried inside, then rummaged about in an old trunk until she found what she looked for. Soon she hobbled back to the top step.

With her jaw clenched, the girl waited. The old woman stretched out her hand and in it was an old, brown ragdoll.

"What's that?"

"Geth gave this to me," the old woman's lower lip popped out, "because I was his pretty little princess. His favorite of all his many, many children. He was a very busy man, but you're too young to understand that." She grinned. "Take her. Her name is Leonna, and she is great company."

Approaching cautiously, Elle Aliee reached for the doll.

The old woman grabbed her hand. "Take your money to the boy's house, and your problem will leave."

Elle Aliee jerked free with the ragdoll in her hand, turned and ran.

"Take care not to lose that doll...and stop sneaking up on old women."

Another intruder appeared in her alley—a tall Gethite wearing a hide jacket and pants. The old woman knew this one. He does not fear my curses, and his heart is as black as pitch. Nonetheless, when he neared her house she called to him, "Give me ten million krachnards, and I will tell you your future. Otherwise, I will curse you."

He paused and folded his arms. "I have heard your mother died giving birth to you, daughter of Geth. Being this close to you I can see why such a deformed and hideous baby would kill its mother. Geth should have suffocated you the moment he saw you."

She pointed a crooked finger at him. "Ober Kile...you're a traitor."

He glared at her, opened his jacket, and the morning light glinted off a silver weapon in his waistband. He let his jacket fall over it again and grinned. "There's what I think of your curses, old witch. Perhaps I'll come back and pay you a visit, and we shall see which is stronger...my laser or your curse."

She backed into the doorway and watched him strolling along, shoulders back as he laughed. Once he had gone, she sighed and peered up at the sky. "Today you will come and see me, Thieves Guild pilot."

She turned and scuffled into her house. "It is as good a day as any, for an old woman to die."

# Chapter One

# Geth

Galactic Guild Commander, Thad Cochran, eyed his reflection in the mirrored wall of the personnel elevator as it hummed quietly upward. He smoothed his close-cropped black hair and buttoned the top button on his khaki shirt. Brushing his matching trousers with his palms, he glanced down at his black corfam shoes, situated at the bottom of his long legs. He rubbed the toes on the back of each pant leg and squinted at the shine.

His brow arched. Don't want Thorn thinking I'm some kind of slob.

The elevator bumped to a halt, and the male voice of the Guild computer said, "We've arrived at the third level, Commander. Shall I signal Captain Thorn that her executive officer is on his way?"

"Sure. How do I look?"

"You seem neat and tidy."

Thad grunted. "Good. One can never have too good an appearance. Even if I'll be fed a few knuckle sandwiches soon."

"I don't believe I have an appearance," the computer said. "This seems unfair to me in vying for Captain Thorn's attention."

The door opened, and Thad frowned. "Has Lieutenant Learn been messing around with your programming again?"

"I'm not certain, but I have been noticing how attractive Maggie seems lately."

Thad snorted. "I wouldn't call her Maggie to her face if I were you. She has this thing about being called captain, and she might just rip out your electronic brain and fire it out the trash chute. Have a nice day."

"Hasta la vista, Comandante."

Ambling along the gray steel passageway of the starship Independence, Thad's shoes clanked on the metal grating beneath. The inset, blue ceiling lights cast shadows on the riveted sheet metal bulkheads, and the corridor smelled of fresh paint. She has command level painted every other month.

Pausing before a sealed electronic door, he lifted his com and thumbed it on. The thing expanded to the size of a tablet. "Mirror," he whispered.

A flickering blue holo mirror appeared, shimmering above the com. He eyed his square-jaw in the digital glass, and his gaze drifted sullenly to the crow's feet etched at the corner of his dark eyes. A new forest of hair sprouted from his nose. He screwed up his mouth. Those things are getting as thick as tree stumps.

Resizing the com and pocketing the gadget, he mashed a flashing square on the bulkhead. The door slid aside, revealing the ready room in a shambles. Captain Margaret Thorn wore a gray, sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants two sizes too large. A woman slight of frame, but with a will of iron, the hero of Coomrun seemed deep in thought and agitated. In the midst of a vigorous workout, sweat soaked her clothes and matted her dark hair against her slender neck and shoulders. Her skin appeared milky, glistening, and inviting. Barefoot, she shadow-boxed in a graceful, fluid dance with her gaze fixed on some imaginary foe.

In all of the galaxy, he had not seen anything to compare with the beauty of Maggie Thorn. Though she never said the words, he believed she loved him—yet he was not certain she knew it. But Maggie also loved her ship. It was a difficult competition—for Maggie, between Thad and the ship, and for Thad, between Maggie and his dream of owning a ranch on Beta Prime. Their neutral ground had become serving together and pretending the conflict did not exist.

His gaze drifted to her feet. Her toenails were painted dark green, and the second toe on her right foot bent toward her big toe at an odd angle.

"Take a holo image, Cochran—it will last longer." She exhaled and dropped her hands. "I broke it kicking this guy in the head, and it never healed right. Doc Branch wants to reset it, but I don't see why. My foot's usually inside my shoe, so who's going to see it?" She wiggled her toes. "It still works...sort of."

"Looks kind of creepy," Thad murmured.

Her small nose crinkled. "Never insult a woman's feet, Commander."

"Yes, ma'am."

All her furniture was pushed aside to make room for her workout. Her shoes were on her desk, and her uniform hung on the back of a chair. Bits of boards, broken either by a punch or a kick, littered the deck. Maggie strode gracefully through her Luch Chi form with her arms up and her hands flowing in smooth circles before her. She sidled with crisp movements and a focused stare as if stalking an opponent. Stopping abruptly, she straightened and flipped over backward, landing easily on the balls of her feet. Soon she took a deep breath, lowered her arms to her sides, and bowed.

Her gaze followed his to the broken bits of lumber. "One can never break enough boards, Commander. Keep that in mind."

"Yes, ma'am." He hesitated.

"What?"

"The computer seems...off today. Might want to talk to Lieutenant Learn. I think he's been tinkering with the programming again. It seems unusually interested in you."

She cocked her head. "Gome's young," she said, mopping her brow with a towel and tossing it aside. "He gets bored when we're in deep space. I've been making him send daily zip mails to his mom—to give him something to do. Maybe I'll up it to two a day." She trod to a metal nozzle poking from the bulkhead above a stainless steel sink and got a drink of water.

She stretched, wiped her lips, and screwed up her mouth. "Tastes like it might be coming directly from the toilet. With all the advancements we've made in space exploration, why can't we have drinkable water on a starship?" She rested her hands on her hips. "Do you understand your mission?"

He nodded. "Find the Gethite, Nassi Foke, and get him back here alive. Along the way, we take a few pictures, in case we meet any undercover Confederalis."

"Keep your eyes open down there. The Confederation may be making a move for this planet, and the Geth government is leaning toward an alliance with us. Lieutenant Lemaru should be along in a bit. In the meantime I need an opponent. The trainer bot is out of commission this week."

Thad frowned. "I'm not dressed for it."

"Kick off your shoes and get rid of the shirt. I'll try not to hurt you."

Grunting, he unbuttoned his shirt and flung it onto a nearby wheeled, metal chair.

She whistled as he rolled his shoulders.

His eyes narrowed, but deep down he enjoyed the attention she paid him.

"What's the matter, Commander? Don't you like being ogled?"

Stepping out of his shoes, he mumbled, "You know I'm not very good at this. I think you get pleasure in knocking the starch out of me and calling it sparring."

Eyes gleaming, she cracked her neck. "You got that right. But the truth is you need to get better. You're getting old, Cochran. Old and slow. That street-fighting style you use to prove your machismo isn't going to do it when you're sucking wind every time you throw a punch." She swung her palms in circular motions, and then sidled into a sideways crouch. "Let's try some light contact sparring. I need to work on my kicks."

Thad mirrored her moves. She pirouetted and nailed him in the thigh.

He backpedaled, winced, and rubbed his leg.

"What?"

"I thought this was light contact."

She stalked him, sliding side-to-side. He kicked back at her, but by the time his foot got there, she'd glided three feet away and grinned. "Wow, are you slow, Cochran." She turned a cartwheel-like pass around him and rapidly popped him on the head as she rolled by."

His blood boiled, and he went after her, dukes up, legs lunging. She flipped backward out of the cartwheel, landed on the balls of her feet, and then dropped to a fighting stance. She avoided his punches and kicks easily, grinned again, and her smile disarmed his anger.

She went up on her tiptoes and slithered past him. "Try and hit me. I need to improve my defense."

"I thought you needed to work on your kicks."

She shrugged.

He charged her straight on, fists doubled up, and chin down.

She ducked sideways, both hands above her head, one lower than the other. "You're street-fighting again. This is Luch Chi, not a prize fight or a bozo contest. Try and tone down the testosterone levels and feel the energy in all that surrounds you." She took a deep breath.

"It's called Balo, not bozo," he growled. He swung a quick jab, and when she ducked to the side he threw a looping, open hand right and fanned her hair.

She danced away. "Getting upset, are we? You don't like it when I mock those machismo brawls you fight in for money—bare knuckles, wearing nothing but your underwear. Am I getting under your skin?"

He wrinkled his nose. "We wear pants at Balo...usually."

"No women allowed. Slapping one another on the back for all your conquests of the female gender."

He frowned. "Women are allowed at a Balo."

"Really. Why haven't you ever invited me to one?"

"Because you hate them." Bent at the waist he stalked her again. Through her glistening sweat, he caught a whiff of her rose perfume. "What did you want to talk about, besides Balo?"

She kicked him sharply in the same thigh, grinned and backed out of reach as he swung at her. "This Gethite has been selling information to the Confederation. Fleet wants to know who his contacts are on Daggon. We also need to know how deep the Confederation presence is on this planet."

He nodded and rubbed his leg. Lunging forward, he aimed at her ankles. His foot made contact, and she stumbled. However, she managed to stay on her feet.

He smiled. "How are we getting on-world? What about the authorities?"

She stopped and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "The Guild arranged permission from the Geth government. They won't help us, but they won't stop us. They figure their planet might be in Confederation crosshairs, so they're deciding which side Geth will be on."

Thad threw a punch at her. She stepped aside, knocked down the shot and kneed him in the ribs. He held his side and grimaced as she floated out of reach. "Do you want me to use the shuttle?" He gasped.

She shook her head. "If you take the shuttle you might as well send a marching band along to announce your arrival. You'll have to fly something else. By the way, you need to get into shape, Cochran. Seriously. You're not a teenager anymore. I can see a few gray hairs from here. Look at you, huffing and puffing like an old man passing a kidney stone."

"What's the finder's fee?" Thad straightened.

"I knew you'd get to that sooner or later. For once it would be nice to hear you say you're doing it for the Guild. Five thousand Guild dollars is what Fleet is offering. Lieutenant Lemaru volunteered to go with you, so you'll have to split it with him. But you have to bring the Gethite back alive if you want to get paid." She clenched her jaw. "I don't like risking both my pilots on the same mission."

Thad shrugged. "We work well together. What's the deal with this Gethite? Why is Fleet so afraid of what he knows?"

Breathing heavy, she strode to the portal and looked out into space. "He worked at Fleet headquarters on Daggon. The man was a senior com tech, with a secret clearance...so it matters."

Stiffly, Thad moved to her side. "How long has he been on Geth?"

"Two weeks. He resigned abruptly when Fleet launched an inquiry, and then he vamoosed on a Promethean freighter. I'm giving you enough Paxithol to keep him in control, as well as some liquid mask to disguise him. The Paxithol lets him stay on his feet, but he'll be real suggestable. You'll also have some hand charges and a light weapon if you need it." Her lips thinned. "The Confederation's getting bolder. Last week they knocked out our outpost on Craikedonn with a com pulse. Communications were down for three days. I think they're testing our defenses for soft spots."

She pulled her hair back and tied it in a ponytail. "They're running out of other people's money, so they're on the prowl again. You know how they work. They seize a world, tell the population they'll take care of them, and then put them on a monthly dole that wouldn't keep a dog and his fleas alive. Enslaving them to regular stipends keeps them loyal, but it takes all the fight out of them. Once the resources of that planet are bled dry, the people holler for more goodies or want to know why there's no work. So they find another planet to pilfer and another population to enslave. It's a pyramid system, and if they seize Guild planets, they can fund their system for another fifty years. This is why we've had two wars with them—they want what we have."

"I grew up in Confederation space, remember? You're not telling me anything new. There's the very poor and the very rich—nothing in between. The people are lazy though, so they hire mercenaries to fight their wars for them, like the Bashtier. The Guild needs to stop signing treaties with them and whip them once and for all. We've beat them twice already, and then let them up off the mat each time." Thad leaned against the bulkhead. "Tell Admiral Jonedess I want ten thousand. It's risky business, and we'll be out of uniform—spies, basically."

"I already told him. He said once you tried haggling, to tell you he'd go no higher than seven thousand. He also said to be sure and stay out of the Gethite clink. We might not be able to get you back if you get arrested."

Thad smirked. "A few trips to the brig and I'm branded for life."

"Eight," she said, returning to a fighting stance. "Most for gambling."

"That many times?" His gaze lingered on her eyes and lips. She's getting more beautiful.

She nodded. A few strands of her dark hair had drifted over one eye. She blew the locks away, flushed a bit, and then went onto the balls of her feet. "Put up your dukes, Cochran. One of these days your love affair with money is going to cost you."

"It's not the money," he said. "It's the land it will buy me. I'm going to retire and spend my days living the good life." He lifted his fists, and she immediately kicked him in the side of the head. He stumbled backward. "Hey. I wasn't ready."

"That's your problem. You're never ready—too busy dreaming about that ranch on Beta Prime. Try living in the here-and-now for a while." She glared at him.

He stalked her, his shoulders parallel to hers, and kept his gaze fixed on her hands and feet. "The land is in the highlands, near a lake—most of it's in a valley between two peaks. You'd love it there. The air isn't recycled, and the water is fresh."

"I'm going to show you a move."

He kept a cautious distance. "What kind of move?"

"It's my own personal escape trick and works when you're dealing with someone of superior strength. Watch and learn, Cochran."

He braced himself and kept his shoulders square to hers. Leaning back on her plant foot, she came at him kicking at his chin with a snapping heel.

Thad sidestepped the attack and managed to get a hold of her waist. He clasped her shoulders and threw her onto her back. "Gotcha." Pinning her, his heart skipped a beat.

She slipped a hand between them, reached behind his head and grabbed him by the hair. "If there's no hair, grab the ear. Enjoying yourself? Pay attention."

She didn't pull that hard. He smiled, looking at her lips.

"Now I'm going to show you my move."

"What move?" He concentrated more on the softness of her skin than on what she said.

She clenched her jaw. "This move." She wiggled her other arm between them and pushed her forearm into his throat. At the same time she stopped pulling his hair and, instead, clutched his head from behind and jerked him against her ramming forearm. "Can't breathe, can you?"

Choking, he blinked and little twinkling stars drifted in and out of his vision. Pushing back, he tried to get off her, but she clamped down. The spots grew larger, and his vision blurred as he struggled to breathe.

"I could kill you," she said. "At the very least, I could knock you out by cutting off your wind. It doesn't take much strength, just the right position of the forearm against the throat balanced against the other hand pushing the head."

The male voice of the Guild computer spoke up. "Lieutenant Lemaru wishes to enter."

"Let him in," Maggie said. "You give up?"

The door slid aside, and the rotund, hairy lieutenant, with a shrub-like brow, stepped cautiously inside. Morse frowned and turned back. "Unh, sorry."

"Freeze, Lieutenant," Maggie barked. "I'm teaching Mister Finder's Fee a lesson that might help him at some point when his testosterone levels have dropped."

Maggie let Thad go.

Gagging, he rose sluggishly, holding his throat and sucking wind.

She sprang to her feet with vigor. "Get in here, Lieutenant. We're on the clock."

"Yes, ma'am." Lemaru's cheeks and ears flushed red.

She folded her arms. "Did you get it, Commander?"

Thad nodded, lifting his chin and gulping. "I got it. You nearly killed me, but I got it—forearm to the throat, other hand pushing the back of the head."

"So you were sparring," Morse said, seeming relieved.

"What did you think we were doing, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, ma'am."

She strode to the portal and pressed a flashing square next to the dense glass. The bulkhead split down the middle, and then opened to each side with a hum and a rattle. As the wall gave way, a larger window appeared surrounding the portal. The ship coasted in orbit at a thirty degree tilt. Thad's gaze drifted to the port wing and a red and white Guild flag, with a blue Earth at its center, emblazoned beneath it.

Below hung a purple world with a thin, yellow atmosphere. There were six tiny, gray moons orbiting in a tight cluster. Maggie tapped the thick glass, dense enough to repel meteor fragments. "There are two major cities on this planet and a total population of about a hundred fifty thousand. You two are going to put down in the eastern city." She glanced over her shoulder. "It's lawless, and the Gethites are nasty. One hundred years ago a Confederation starship mechanic by the name of Jake Love took fourteen brides, changed his name to Hammais Geth, and came here on a pilgrimage. He thought of himself as a prophet, and he liked this crappy planet so much he named it after himself.

"Apparently, his descendants procreate like Earth rabbits. Your job is to get on-world, find our man, and get him back here. Remember, bring him back alive or no finder's fee." She glanced at Morse. "Fleet's offering seven thousand. You'll split it with the dreamer. Computer, let's see an enlarged still of Nassi Foke."

"Very well, Captain Thorn. Would you like a musical arrangement to accompany the presentation? I could select something from my classical collection."

Her dark eyes narrowed. "How would you like to be downloaded into the brain of some interstellar garbage scow?"

"Here's the photograph. I hope you enjoy it."

In the center of the room a holo viewer lowered, and a round, flat device emitted green light. An image appeared in the hologram—a tall, stout man with shoulder length hair. He had a scar and a meandering eye.

"You'll find him and get back quickly. The Gethites have agreed to allow us onto their world to retrieve this creep, but we can't fly under any Guild insignia."

"That leaves out the shuttle," Thad said. "How then?"

"We brought along a Gethite particle rider. It's small, but big enough for the three of you."

"If you don't mind my asking, Captain," Morse said. "What did this guy do?"

"He's been selling secrets to the Confederation. We're going to bring him back to Daggon to face justice and to find out who his contacts were. There's treachery afoot, Lieutenant."

"When are we going?" Thad said.

"Now." She strolled across the ready room and opened a panel in the wall. In a moment, she returned with a stack of clothing and a sack. She tossed a set of garments to each of them then handed Thad the sack. "Gethite attire," she explained. "The weapons and the ante money are in the bag."

The clothing had the texture of coarse wool. Thad peered inside the sack, spied a stack of crisp new bills and a few gadgets. He hooked the satchel over his shoulder.

"You two get down to the hangar bay, change clothes, and get moving."

They headed for the door, and Maggie stopped them. "I know you, Cochran. You seem a little too eager to go on this mission. The money's not that good." Her gaze shifted to the corpulent lieutenant. "And Morse didn't ask how much you'll be paid. I had to tell him."

Thad looked at Morse then shrugged. "Morse is doing this because he's a patriot."

"Uh huh." She pointed at Thad and narrowed her eyes. "Get the Gethite and get back here. No farting around."

"Yes, ma'am."

As they left, she called after them. "You two better not be up to any chicanery."

Thad looked at Morse but they both said nothing.

# Chapter Two

# Nassi Foke

The massive hangar bay of the Independence swarmed with scurrying, wheeled service bots and maintenance personnel wearing gray coveralls. Holo generators displayed three-dimensional graphs above wooden work benches, and the place smelled of rocket fuel. The facility also bustled with red-shirted plane captains steering electric vehicles over a gritty tarmac. It had the feel of a full blown airport inside the belly of the star cruiser.

Three gigantic oval portals filled the walls twenty feet above the tall bay doors. Beyond the glass, thousands of stars shone bright in the black of space. Thad and Morse found the Gethite particle rider under a tarp near the third automated bay door.

Thad flipped the covering aside, and his eyes widened. "Hello, beautiful."

Morse's lips twisted. "Looks like something someone made in their backyard—kind of rickety."

"Looks are deceiving," Thad said. "It's edgy. The latest in particle techno. It's just this techno is still somewhat experimental."

The machine resembled a fifteen foot-long pontoon ship with the two pontoons situated on the outer edge of a diamond-shaped fuselage. A clear cockpit, also diamond in appearance, connected the two pontoons near the bow. The cockpit's opening was set in the aft. Each rocket-like pontoon also had double rear fins the height of a man, and on the forward ends they had the front of a missile. The vehicle stood two feet above the deck on six wheels—three under each pontoon. A thin titanium rod, three feet tall, extended vertically from the bow of the diamond fuselage.

Thad pointed at the rod. "It collects cosmic particles and uses a transfer reactor to distribute raw energy to the rear engines. The thing takes about a cup of petrol once a month under regular use. The petrol sparks the transfer."

Morse sidled beside him and frowned. "Can you fly this thing, Commander?"

Thad arched a brow. "I can fly anything, Lieutenant. And it just so happens I used to race these babies on Beta Prime when I was still a wet behind the ears cub like you. That was before I came over to the Guild, during my enlistment with the Confederation." He nudged the silver hull with his shoe. "It will hit a thousand miles per, in a gravity environment...inside four seconds. Can't change directions too fast though."

"Why not?" The lieutenant squatted and ran his hand over the smooth hull.

"These particle reactors are unstable. They can blow."

"You mean the motor dies?"

"They go boom, Lieutenant. Like a small nuclear explosion when one of these things goes off."

He fingered the transparent dome hesitantly. "How about we just paint the shuttle to look like a Gethite ship?" Morse glanced at Thad, the color draining from his round face.

"We've got our orders," Thad said. "Anyway, we'll be fine. These things are a hoot to fly. Be a good boy, and I might let you drive it back."

Morse looked at it again and seemed to weigh the possibilities.

Thad pressed a flashing square on the hull behind the clear canopy and the dome opened. He flipped the satchel inside onto a cloth seat. "Let's get changed, Lieutenant."

They stripped down to their skivvies, left their uniforms in a metal cubby, and then donned the Gethite attire.

Morse winced at he slipped on the jacket. "This stuff itches." He sniffed the sleeve. "And it stinks like something died." He climbed into the co-pilot's seat, causing the small machine to lean for a moment.

Thad frowned. "Are you gaining weight, Lieutenant?"

Morse strapped in and lowered his voice as he said, "I've been playing poker with Chief Ridge on the mess deck. He keeps asking me to taste his newest dessert. I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Thad jumped inside. The cockpit dome closed over them, latching with a hissing sound. He slipped on his helmet. "Bay personnel, we're ready for launch at door three." He thumped another switch and a hologram swallowed the inside of the cockpit.

Morse closed his visor. "Wow. Command functions on this craft look like a virtual game."

A plane captain, wearing padded ear protectors, drove up on an electric cart. He unlatched the rider from the deck, cast a chain aside, and then trotted to a panel next to the massive steel bay door and keyed in a digital command. The hangar door opened, beginning with a hole in the center the size of an egg, then it spiraled outward until it vanished into the bulkheads.

Thad turned the engines, which whined and made a suctioning sound. The vertical rod on the nose of the craft glowed white.

Morse peered at the rod. "I wouldn't mind trying it on the way back."

Two handles with grips arose smoothly from the floorboard then clicked into place next to his knees. Thad grabbed the grips and thumbed the throttle on the end of one handle. The craft lifted and wobbled forward slowly through the airlock toward the sealed outer bay door. A worker in a silver suit saluted as they passed. Thad returned the gesture.

Once the vessel cleared the inner door, it closed behind them. The outer bay door slid aside in the same outward spiraling motion. As the particle rider drifted free of the ship, Thad scanned the rear monitor until the bay door closed behind them.

"So, I can drive it on the way back?" Morse said.

Thad nodded, and switched off the cabin com. "Did you bring it?"

Morse opened his Gethite jacket. Paper bills were stuffed into his waistband. "I had it down my pants. All Gethite currency," he said. "I have a friend at the monetary-exchange back on Daggon. He transferred it for us for nothing."

"How much does ten thousand Guild bucks make in Gethite money?"

"Two million krachnards. Can I really fly this on the way back?"

Thad shrugged. "Sure."

"How much to buy into the fight?" Morse grinned.

"It doesn't matter. The Guild is paying our ante. That's the genius of my plan." He opened the satchel and stuffed the tech bombs and gadgets, and the hand laser, into his inner jacket pockets. He handed the sack to Morse. "The ante money is still in there. Keep this with you."

"Captain Thorn knows what we're doing?"

"Not exactly. She doesn't know we're gambling our money—mine mostly—on the individual fights I'm in. And she thinks I'll quit once we get enough pictures and have the Gethite in our custody."

Morse nodded. "She doesn't know we're going to win fifty thousand Guild dollars."

"You got that right." Thad gunned the throttle, and the vertical rod glowed red. Fire belched out of the stern, and the thing accelerated quickly. "Fast in space too," he crooned. "Give us a map, computer."

In a moment, a three-dimensional representation of the surface appeared in a green holographic fog inside the cabin. The image zoomed in over a crude, sprawling wood and stone city standing in the midst of a wilderness of dense, old growth forest.

"Show us our destination."

The map further zoomed in to a neighborhood of flat-roofed buildings, some of rock and some of wood, all inset with wooden shuttered windows and plank doors. The streets were fashioned from dirt, and most buildings were no more than one story high. Many homes had crudely fashioned furniture on the roofs, like the inhabitants slept there in the warmer season.

"The eastern city," the computer said. "Population eighty-three thousand."

Thad grunted. "What's this Gethite's name again?"

"Nassi Foke," the computer said. "Would you like to see his image to refresh your recollection?"

The ride got bumpy as they neared the upper atmosphere. "Go ahead," Thad said, wrestling with the controls. He glanced at Morse. "Make sure to hold on tight when you get your turn. It takes a bit of strength to keep this thing under control."

In the mossy-colored fog around them, a pale-skinned man with long, tangled brown hair appeared. He had a scar on his right cheek and a lazy eye. Thad cast a glance at Morse. "We find him, drug him, disguise him with the liquid skin, and take him along to the Balo with us. When does it start, Lieutenant?"

"In less than an hour. If we were going to beat him with an ugly stick...someone beat us to it."

Thad's lip twisted. "Are you developing a sense of humor, Lieutenant?"

"I think you're wearing off on me, Commander."

Thad chuckled. They hit the upper atmosphere, and he nudged the nose downward. "Lock me onto his last known location, computer."

A red X appeared in the moving holographic map. "This is actually Mister Foke's place of employment, Commander," the computer said. "Our intelligence says he is there now."

Beneath the speeding rider, a thin, meandering river flowed from a nearby mountain range. Close to the banks, to the south, stood a primitive metropolis. They approached it quickly, and Thad lowered the wheels. It was midday in the eastern city when they got close enough to get a firsthand look at the place. White smoke wafted from stone chimneys and hung heavy in the still air. Gethite children played a stick ball game in the dirt streets—sometimes with parents looking on. Other than occasional particle riders, zipping along and belching orange fire, the place devoid of modern techno. There were no sidewalks, only an occasional stone path, and most Gethites walked or pulled wooden carts with tall wooden wheels.

Thad landed the craft in the woods along the river bank, near the edge of the city. Morse strapped the satchel over his shoulder, lifted his com, and snapped a few photos.

Thad smirked. "Pictures of people, Lieutenant—not of the scenery."

"Yes, sir."

"And keep that com out of sight. I doubt many are carrying one here."

"Yes, sir."

Thad studied the holo map on his own com. After memorizing the path they'd need to take, he pocketed the device, stretched a tarp the color of the surrounding foliage over the craft, and trotted off with Morse on his heels. They crossed a stone drainage ditch, climbed a mud hill and stepped into a dirt alley. Garments hung on rawhide lines, drying in the midday sun. A few Gethite women chatted near one of the clotheslines, but they paid no attention to him and Morse as they ambled along the alley.

A block along, the single story buildings were packed closer together, and one wide wooden structure had a set of double iron doors propped open with wooden chairs. Thad caught a strong whiff of booze. This is the place. What a dump...and a bar to boot.

The location they sought was a dilapidated tavern. He pulled Morse aside and whispered, "Take some pictures...discreetly."

The lieutenant nodded.

Along with a couple of short brass torches burning with a flickering yellow flame, a single window illuminated the place inside. The bar—a rectangular counter constructed out of uneven black logs and covered with a plank top sat in front of the torches. The ceiling was hoisted above thick, greenwood rafters. The place smelled like a backed up commode. An antique long rifle hung on nails on the back wall, a few steps from the reach of the Gethite bartender—a homely man wearing striped merchants garments. Several old Gethites sat at the bar on tall, uneven stools, and a handful more slouched on crooked benches at rectangular wooden tables scattered about the cave-like interior.

Staring, Morse pushed in close. "It's hard to tell the women from the men."

Thad shushed him as they sidled up to the bar beside a drunken Gethite, asleep and snoring, with his head on the counter and his wide backside hanging off the stool. Tin mugs hung above wooden kegs behind the bar. One keg had a metal tap and a spout. It seemed Gethite beer was all to be had in this place.

"Give us two," Thad said. Glancing at Morse, he motioned with his chin. "Pay the man."

The lieutenant reached a hairy hand inside his coat and handed him a bill. The man wandered off then brought back a couple of frothing mugs. After slamming them down, the Gethite cast a few coins onto the bar—the money didn't bounce, it just kind of stuck to the mucky surface.

The barkeep stepped back and eyed them. "I don't recall seeing you two before." His teeth were brown and eroded, and he had a ragged, yellow and oily mustache.

"We're from the western city," Thad said. He sniffed the mug. A red crust had calcified on the rim. He set it down without having any, and Morse, nose wrinkled, did the same.

"What's your business here? We don't get many strangers."

"My friend and I are here for the Balo."

The suspicious expression eased, and the barkeep smiled. "Here to gamble on the fights? That's why things are so slow. Everybody's in the barn."

"The barn? How do we get there from here?"

"It's about a block out back. It's the tallest place in the neighborhood, so you can't miss it." He slouched on the bar close to him, and Thad decided he knew where the foul odor in the place originated. "Big money riding on this one. There's a champion no one can beat."

"We hadn't heard that," Morse said, backing off, his gaze drifting to the snoring drunk.

"Who's the champion?" Thad said.

"Numbot, of course."

"Of course," Thad said. "By the way, I'm looking for an old friend. Thought I'd look him up and surprise him before the fights. His name is Nassi Foke."

The bartender straightened. "Nassi works for me. I don't recall him saying anything about friends from the western city."

Thad shrugged. "Probably because he's ashamed of us. Morse here's been cursed by two different witches, and bad luck just seems to follow him."

As the words rolled off his lips, the snoring drunk fell over onto the floor, shooting a cloud of dust upward. The barkeep backed up a step. "He's fixing a stool for me." He pointed to a doorway. "Through there. Take your cursed friend with you. We don't need no trouble. And Nassi's a bit depressed, mind you. So walk soft around him."

Nassi Foke looked just like his holo image—kind of dirty and sickly, with a scar on his cheek and one eye cocked at a forty-five degree tilt. He sat cross-legged on the floor, working on a broken chair leg, as if he might be considering slinging the thing against the wall. There was one window, no glass in it, and the shutters were broken, rotted, and dangling. A narrow shaft of daylight hit the plank floor at the Gethite's feet. He wore leather sandals revealing black toenails. The walls were so thin, daylight flickered between the boards. A stack of wooden kegs sat in one corner, and a small bed, made of thin boards and a sagging mattress, sloped near the window.

It seemed to be a storage locker doubling as a bedroom.

This makes me appreciate my crappy quarters on the ship.

The Gethite wore a gray woolen vest and stiff denim trousers. He looked up from his work on the chair and pushed the hair out of his eyes irritably. "The bar's that way." He motioned with his chin to the door they just passed through. "I'm going to start locking that door. A guy slipped in here and peed a puddle the other day." He scowled and the wandering eye drifted. "This ain't no toilet. I'm a trained tech, and here I am fixing chairs for people who don't know a bedroom from a commode."

"Actually we're here to see you, Nassi," Thad said.

He stood and leaned against the stool. "What for?" He cocked his head, and then both eyes rounded out. "Wait a minute, I know you. You're that Guild pilot everybody's always going on about. What's-your-face? Best pilot in the galaxy, blah, blah, blah."

Thad glanced at Morse.

Nassi opened his mouth, like he was about to add a holler, but Morse pitched a small, silver dart-like object at him. The thing hit Nassi in the neck, made a hissing sound, and the Gethite's eyes rolled into his head.

Thad caught him before he hit the floor, and then steadied him on his feet. "It's not supposed to knock him out." He slapped the Gethite on the cheeks a few times, and Nassi eventually opened his glassy eyes and blinked. "Pay attention, Nassi. We're good friends, from the western city. You're going with us to the Balo."

"I don't like Balo," Nassi said, his eyelids fluttering.

"You love Balo."

"I do?"

"Absolutely."

Morse puckered his lips. "How about we tie him and leave him in the rider?"

Thad shook his head. "We can't chance leaving him that long. Anyway, Captain Thorn said anyone with this stuff in their blood is real suggestable. He won't be a problem. If someone asks, we'll say he's drunk...and we have the liquid mask. Besides, we'll miss the first fight if we go back."

"I don't drink," Nassi mumbled. "It makes my stomach queasy."

"Sure you drink," Thad said. "You love to drink."

"I do?"

"Sure. You're at the stuff all the time. You might even have a problem."

Still glassy-eyed, Nassi licked his lips. "I think I want a mug of ale."

"Not now...later. First tell me who you were giving Guild secrets to on Daggon."

"I hate the Guild. I'm not from a member world, so I can't buy citizenship."

"Who was your contact?"

Nassi smacked his lips like he had a bad taste. "We always met at a bar a few blocks from the Weller palace. I never got a good look at him, because he sat at the same table...out of the light. I saw enough to know he was a Daggonite though. They're freaks, born without a nose."

"What was this Daggonite's name?"

He shook his head, and his lazy eye studied Thad. "Never got a name, but I guessed he was connected to the royal family somehow. He wore a ring with the Weller crest."

"Is there a back door?"

Nassi bobbed his chin and stumbled. "Behind the empty barrels. How would you like to sleep in this dump? I had a nice little apartment on Daggon."

Thad kept him steady. "You lead the way. We've got to get to the Balo before it starts."

"I never liked prize fights. It's too noisy, and the place stinks like body odor. Besides, I've got to fix the chair. No fix, no eat. That's what his highness says."

"That's not true. Next to drinking, gambling on the fights is your favorite thing. And his highness says you're free to go."

"I love Balo," Nassi said, blinking as he hung onto Thad's arm. "I think it must be the sweat and the blood. Sometimes guys get hit so hard they puke. It's kind of exciting."

"Don't forget the sound of ribs breaking from a big punch," Morse added, grinning.

"Yes, the breaking bones might be my favorite thing of all. If someone gets kicked in the gonads, I figure it's been a good day. "

Morse giggled.

Behind the stacked kegs was an old plank door with a heavy metal latch securing it to the wall. The door had several knotholes. Shafts of light streamed through the holes. Thad slipped in behind the kegs, reached to unlock the door, then he glanced at Morse. "How much is the grand prize?"

"Ten million krachnards."

"In real money."

"Fifty thousand Guild dollars. Wagering our money we might even double it."

Thad twisted his lips. "I hope there's no three-for-all. I always get ganged up on."

"What does it matter? No one can beat you in full contact Balo, Commander. Even if you are getting old."

"Who says I'm getting old?"

"Captain Thorn does. She says you need to get into shape and learn more Luch Chi before somebody ties your ankles behind your neck."

Thad harrumphed. "She's got Luch Chi on the brain."

"Yeah, but she beats you all the time."

"All the time," Nassi agreed. "She beats you like a Daggonite drum."

Thad glared at the Gethite. "Your tongue hurts too much to talk."

Nassi grabbed his mouth and mumbled.

Thad leaned close to the round lieutenant. "Make sure to get plenty of pictures at the Balo. We'll want to match images with identities when we get back to the ship."

# Chapter Three

# Elimination Balo

Thad closed the door behind him, and the top of a faded red barn loomed in the distance. The place wasn't far, but difficult to get to. He checked the com's map again. They would have to zigzag through Gethite neighborhoods in order to find it. The street the barn stood on dead ended and had limited access.

As he towed Nassi, Thad glanced at him. "How'd a barn get in the middle of town?"

The Gethite shrugged, and his lazy eye drifted toward the red structure standing behind a maze of stone houses. "This was a farm years ago. The city just kind of swallowed the thing, and nobody bothered to tear it down."

As they neared people, Thad stopped just before an alley connecting the street he was on to the one for the barn. He yanked Nassi into the shadows of a corner building and thumped Morse on the back. "Keep an eye out. Captain Thorn gave me enough liquid mask to work for a couple of hours. We need to go ahead and use it before someone stops us and asks too many questions."

Morse leaned against the wall, blocking any curious stares. Standing behind him, Thad reached into his pocket and retrieved a tiny metal box. He held Nassi against the wall, squeezed the thing, and held it over the Gethite's head. "Hold your breath."

Nassi did as instructed. Thad poured a drop or two of a rubbery, blue substance onto his head. The stuff grew in mass, bubbling and foaming, then it ran down Nassi's face and slowly solidified.

Thad sculpted the clay-like substance, pushing it under the Gethite's chin and behind his ears. "Hold your breath just a bit longer, Nassi. Don't try to talk, it might crack the stuff."

Thad kept working until the blue substance morphed into the color of the Gethite's skin. Soon it formed a mask and gave the appearance of an older, more weathered face.

Thad stepped back and eyed his work. "No one will recognize you now. You look twenty years older."

"Someone's coming," Morse whispered.

"It's okay." Thad led the Gethite from the shadows as a couple of women, scarfs over their heads, shuffled past them without looking up.

Morse's lower lip popped out and his hairy brows arched. "He looks completely different."

"It should last a couple of hours. Let's get moving. Once we get inside the Balo, you keep him very close."

"I'll guard him like my life depends on it, Commander."

According to the map, this alley offered them a shortcut. Leaning tenements stood on each side of the alley, facing the mud trough-like street. Most appeared vacant. Thad and his group stayed close to the sagging buildings on their right, keeping Nassi between them. About halfway along, Thad spotted the rounded roof of the barn poking above the tenements at the far end.

"For a shortcut, you'd think there'd be more people along here," he said. "Especially with a Balo just around the corner and not many ways to get there."

Nassi peered at his surroundings and slurred as he said, "Uh, oh. We took a wrong turn. Better go back and go down to the next street before she sees us."

Thad snarled. "What are you talking about?"

Nassi frowned. "This is the witch's alley. Geez, am I having a stretch of bad luck. Better hold your noses."

In the doorway of a crumbling stone tenement, an old woman stood on the other side of the rutted thoroughfare. She wore a tattered, black dress and a gray shawl draped over her hunched shoulders. Her stiff, silver hair poked out from under a black scarf, and her nose twisted down like a bowed gherkin. Bent at the waist—almost to a ninety degree angle—she chattered to herself. She had to crook her neck to look up at passersby, and she currently had her gaze locked on two burly Gethites coming down the alley from the opposite direction.

In a shrill voice, she yelled at the two men, "How about I read your futures, you buttholes? Just five hundred thousand krachnards." She belched, then cackled.

They stiffened, the color draining from their cheeks as they hurried along.

"How about a date then, sailors?"

Nassi slowed. "I told you we took a wrong turn. There she is. We're going to get it now."

When the old woman still didn't get a response, her eyes narrowed and a pointed tongue darted out of her mouth and snaked along her lips. "I suppose they've let some more dimwits out of the asylum. Look at you...walking like a couple of pregnant women looking for a toilet. What say I curse the both of you just for the fun of it?"

The Gethites stopped, and one turned with his head low, almost bowing. His lower lip trembled. "No, mother. Don't do that." He pitched her a coin. "For your trouble. See? Just for you."

They hastened away, and one of them croaked at the other, "I told you we should never come this way."

"I thought she was dead by now, okay?'

The hag scooped up the coin and examined it. She licked it with her tongue; her eyes brightened as she tucked it away in some hidden fold of her dress. "The next time you two heifers pass this way, you bring my five hundred thousand krachnards, or I'll curse you anyway."

Nassi dug his heels in. "Don't let her see us. Let's go back, before she curses us."

"We're going this way," Thad said. "All this is a dream, so don't worry about it."

"I hate it when I dream about witches."

Another Gethite followed the first two. Tall and thin, he wore ragged trousers and a wooly vest with the clasps fastened unevenly down the front. He staggered, and when he got near the woman, his eyes rounded. Almost tripping over his feet as he darted forward, he crossed the alley, giving her a wide swath. "I don't want no trouble, mother," he muttered. "I got lost, is all."

She cackled again. "Well, well...what do we have here? Drunk in the middle of the day, are we?" She sniffed the air with her long honker. "Drinking the cheap stuff too."

He dropped his gaze to the ground, ambling indirectly toward the trio.

The old woman intrigued Thad. Morse tugged at Nassi to get him going, but Thad stretched his arm out and stopped them. "Hang on."

"I'm not even going to waste my breath reading your future...you won't remember it, bean sprout. Come back here and pull my finger." She farted. "Oops, too late."

The staggering Gethite moved faster, pushing his way past Morse and croaking, "Watch out she don't curse you."

Her gaze drifted to Thad. "Read your future...Guild officer?"

Thad's eyes narrowed. How does she know me? "We're Gethites, old woman. You should have your eyes checked."

She grinned, revealing a single brown tooth hanging in the center of her, prune-like mouth. "Come, and I'll read your future, Thad Cochran." She popped out a squeaky fart and then grinned again. "Don't judge me. I'm an old woman with a condition."

Thad grabbed Morse by the shoulder. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. I need to speak with her."

Morse's eyes got real big. "She's a Gethite witch. I've heard they boil babies and eat them. Let's get going."

The old woman chortled. "You're fat and brainless, aren't you? Just like the first two. You see, porky, we don't eat babies...anymore. They're high in carbohydrates, and I'm on a health kick. Anyway, I don't have time to follow every pregnant Gethite waif around until she drops a screamer. I make my living reading futures. Lucky for me I'm so pretty or I wouldn't get any business at all during these difficult economic times." She lifted her chin and showed them her profile.

"Pretty, my rear end," Morse said.

"I heard that, mono-brow. That stuff is so thick birds could live in it. Anyway, I'll have you know I'm the only child of Geth's third wife, Amethyst—the beautiful one of the bunch." The old woman batted her eyes. "Geth had a thing for magical females who practiced the black arts so he married fourteen of them. I figure he must have been in pretty good shape. Anyway, we prefer to be called, sorceresses, because it sounds prissy." She glared at Morse. "We don't care for the word witch—it's demeaning." She belched. "Does that sound right to you? I'm thinking of having it tuned."

Morse drew his mouth up. "Let's get out of here before someone lights a candle."

Nassi cocked his head. "Who's tooting?"

"No one," Thad said. "You're still dreaming. Now stay quiet."

"Oh, my mistake."

"Another genius," the old woman said. "Take that one with you back to your spaceship and the IQ of the entire planet will increase exponentially. Did you hear that? I used a big word."

"Not so loud," Thad said. His gaze shifted to Morse, and he scowled. "There's no such thing as witches and black magic. Keep an eye out." He crossed the alley and stopped with his foot on the bottom step. "Are you Guild? Is that how you know me? Who told you we have a spaceship? Give me names, and I'll pay you well."

Because of the bend to the woman's back, they were at eye level. She had pale blue eyes and wasn't quite the hag she first appeared to be. She studied him, and her lips thinned. "Handsome and stubborn. You had a little sister, and she died of the fever. You were never nice to her, and your conscience keeps you up at night because of it. Who do you suppose could tell me that, if not the spirits?"

He stiffened. "Are you Guild?"

She shook her head slowly and her eyes were like two deep, bottomless pools. "The spirits show me things, but only when they're important. This must be very important."

"If you're not Guild, then who are you? How do you know me?"

"Come inside. My price is one million krachnards for a reading."

"You told those two five hundred thousand krachnards."

"They didn't have it. You do. It will cost you one million."

He frowned. "I've got better things to do with my money."

She hissed. "You're about to piss it away. May as well give some of it to me first."

"How long's my father been dead?" He stared at her.

She pointed a long, crooked finger at him "He's not dead...you are. He's already buried you, because you're Guild." She withdrew her hand and rubbed her chin.

Thad turned to Morse. "Give her what she wants. We'll still have half left for wagering. You can have my share." He faced her. "When I left the Confederation, he told me I was dead to him."

She curtsied.

"The money is mostly yours anyway, Commander. We'll split it like we planned. But I don't think we should trust her."

"It'll be all right. If she was going to turn us in, she would have already done it."

Morse trotted across the alley, handed Thad the cash then returned to Nassi, who leaned against the wall talking to himself.

She lifted her chin. "The wide one has courage he doesn't know about. And you are afraid of things you cannot see or learn about in books." She hobbled inside, and he followed her.

Stopping in the doorway, he cast a glance at Morse. "Don't let him talk to anyone. I'll be right back."

Cramped and dark, the house had very little furniture, most of it thin wood with rickety chairs covered in something like burlap. There were no photographs on the walls and no techno. A rocking chair with a blanket draped over it rested against the far wall. A wooden pump handle stabbed up from a tin sink, and empty pales for carrying water littered the floor.

She sat at a small, round table shrouded with a black tablecloth. There were two old, high-back chairs situated around the table. Bending slightly, she lifted a wooden box from the floor. The case was painted white and decorated with red flowers, like a child had drawn them. She set it on the table and nodded to the other chair.

"Sit down, Commander Cochran. You are someone who has done interesting things. Therefore, I won't curse you. My curses are real, and they never lift. That's why men fear me and give me money." A hard look crept into her eyes. "For six months I've had a recurring dream, Thad Cochran. I see a nameless, formless, black-eyed monster coming to destroy everything. Then I see a tall, handsome Guild officer, and I hear the monster call his name, Thad Cochran." She motioned with her bony hand. "Sit."

He sat.

"In the dream I see you coming to Geth, but I cannot tell if you are friend or foe." She peered at him in the dim light. "I have inquired about you. It is said you are the greatest star pilot to ever live, but also you are a Thieves Guild hoodlum."

She opened the box and poured out its contents. Several small bones and a few colorful rocks landed on the table. She spread the items on the tabletop and then stared at each object, whispering beneath her breath.

Glancing at him, she said, "Put your hands over these things, and we shall see if you are friend or foe."

When he hesitated, she assured him, "Go on. It won't hurt. You must cover every piece with your hands."

He did as she said, and she placed her cold, clammy hands on top of his. In a moment, she said, "Now place the things inside the box."

Thad did, and she shut the lid. She held the box above her head, shook it several times, then set it down and opened it again. She stared inside, and a shadow crossed her eyes. A glint, like a yellow flame, shone above her sunken cheeks. "You will become someone you detest. You will bathe in blood, and many will die for you." She closed the box and leaned back in her chair. "I can't see the end of these things, only their progress. There is a mountain on a cold planet far from here. On that mountain the last one will die for you, and then we shall see how much courage the brave pilot really has." She stretched out her hand.

Thad handed her the bills. "Who told you my name? Who told you about my sister?"

She shook her head slowly. "You still don't believe. But you will. You only think of yourself. You brought the fat one with you today because you are greedy. He thinks you're a hero." She sneered at him. "You're selfish, like most men. Try looking in your heart for the answer to your questions."

Thad pushed back from the table. "You're making all this up."

"Did I lie about your sister?"

Standing, he studied her for a moment. "Someone could have told you."

She cackled. "It doesn't take a lot of brains to become a star pilot, does it?"

He turned to leave, and when he reached the door she spoke in a sing-sing tone.

"They will name you Lazarus."

He frowned. "Who will call me that?"

"The people who will follow you. Deep down you know what I say is the truth." She pointed a crooked finger at him. "The price for your dream will be paid in blood."

"I just wasted a lot of money. I suppose I should kill you, to be sure you aren't going to talk about our presence here."

She smiled. "The one you will become, he would kill me, but you will not."

He returned to Morse and Nassi, mulling just how the old hag knew those things about him. It's definitely not magic...what a crock.

The old woman called to him from the doorway. "Be careful your dream doesn't lead you, and others who care for you, into a nightmare of your making." She farted a long, rattling fart. "I thought that needed a bit of punctuation." She puckered and winked at Morse. "Give us a smooch, fatty."

Morse cringed. "It's like she can pass wind whenever she wants. And I'm not fat...I'm big boned."

Thad twisted his mouth up. "She's full of more than just gas, and I just blew half our money for her to look at a bunch of chicken bones and make up stuff. I need to get my head examined."

They each grabbed an arm of the Gethite, but Nassi lingered, looking at the old woman. "That's Morning Toill. She's the daughter of Geth's third wife...what's her name? Sounds like a gem. She's the last of Geth's children." They pulled him along, and he looked at Thad. "She's never wrong. She has the magic in her. Where are we going?"

"Nowhere. We're going nowhere. And the only thing magical about her is her farting prowess."

Nassi pursed his lips. "I suppose her magic could be in her farts."

Morse let out a guffaw.

When they stepped out of the alley, a line of Gethites waited to enter the old barn through tall hinged, double doors, painted red and standing open. The place had a dirt floor, a growing crowd, and splintering benches. The electric atmosphere of a Balo oozed from the timbers. Thad pushed the old woman from his thoughts. His nostrils flared, and he clenched his teeth.

Morse nudged him with his elbow. "No one beats you at Balo...no one."

Once inside, Morse left Thad and Nassi and hurried to a wooden table where a fat, bald Gethite took money and shoved it into a black metal box. Morse opened his coat and laid down their ante, then unfastened the satchel and wagered their own cash. He returned quickly, his eyes lit with excitement.

Leaning in close, he opened his stumpy hand and showed Thad a silver coin. "Baldy said not to lose this...we'll need it."

Thad nodded. "That's proof we anteed up. Did you put it all down?" He scanned the crowd. There's a big payday here if I win it all.

Morse nodded. "He's giving us two to one on the first bout. You've been doing this a long time, haven't you, Commander?"

"I fought in my first one when I was fourteen."

"Have you ever lost?"

"No."

Morse shook his head. "I told him your name is Almett Zode, from the western city." He spoke with awe. "If someone quits, you have to stop pounding them. No other rules. Fight until someone is either knocked out or gives up. You have to win three fights to get a peek at the champion and a shot at the big pot. The final bout is timed." His gaze scanned the crowd. "Must be three or four hundred here. They're all putting down money."

"Timed?" Thad grumbled. "Why would they time it?"

Morse shrugged, and Nassi murmured something.

"What's that?" Thad said.

As if aware of his presence for the first time, Nassi looked at him. "You'll be good and tired if you make it to Numbot, and then they time it to make it that much harder—impossible really." He looked around blinking. "Hey, how'd I get here? Wait a minute, I remember you two, and I'm supposed to be fixing that chair for his highness."

Morse casually looked around, then stuck Nassi in the neck with another dose of Paxithol, as he patted the Gethite on the shoulder. Immediately the Gethite's eyes glassed over, and he resorted to mumbling.

"If he got a good look at himself in a mirror, he'd probably have a heart attack," Morse observed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Get pictures," Thad said. "Don't let anyone see you."

Wearing something resembling buckskins, a tall, neatly trimmed Gethite stepped out of the crowd and rang a triangular bell with a flat length of metal. His jacket slipped open when he lifted his arm, and Thad saw the handle of a light weapon briefly. The noise in the place subsided.

Buckskin seemed to catch where Thad looked, and he tugged his jacket closed. "We'll be fighting the first round in three rings. The winners of those rounds will then pair off against three waiting fighters. You fighters were all given a coin when you signed up for the Balo. Silver means you fight, copper means you sit out the first round. The final round will be a three-for-all to determine who fights our champion for the chance to win ten million krachnards!"

A cheer arose from the crowd, and they stomped their feet.

"I hate three-for-alls," Thad muttered. "You gotta have eyes in the back of your head."

"We got a silver coin," Morse said. "That means you fight in the first round."

"Yeah, we'd have to slip him a thousand more to sit it out. Money talks at these things." Thad glanced at the woozy Nassi leaning against Morse. "Keep him close to you."

Morse nodded. "I don't think that'll be a problem."

Thad stripped down to the waist. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, eyeing the emerging competition as the crowd settled onto long wooden benches surrounding the dirt fighting rings. Five large Gethites made their way into the center of the barn. Thad scooped a handful of dirt. He tossed it down, rubbed his hands briskly together, and then ambled to join them.

"This is full contact Balo," the buckskin clad Gethite said. "No weapons and no time limits, except the final round. No killing. It costs too much to bury you. If you want to quit, say so and I'll stop the match." He pointed at two fighters. "Ring one." He motioned to Thad and a Gethite fighter a foot taller than him and heavier by fifty pounds. "Ring two." He motioned to the remaining fighters. "You two are in three."

The rings looked like they'd been drawn unevenly by someone dragging their heel through the dirt, and each had a number dug out crudely in the middle of the circle. Thad squared off against the big man. The top of the man's right ear appeared to have a chunk bitten out of it. He wore a gold band for a nose ring, and he had a tattoo of a half bare woman on his chest. Thad's gaze drifted back to the half consumed ear.

The Gethite scowled. "My woman did it to me. I was late for dinner." He grinned. "I make sure I'm on time now."

"I'll try and get you home early."

The grin vanished. "We'll see, pretty boy."

"I prefer to be called handsome." Thad rolled his shoulders and popped his neck side-to-side.

Half-ear glared at him.

Thad glanced at the Gethite wearing buckskins. "Is it all right if I grab his nose ring and pull his face off, Pocahontas?"

The Gethite shrugged. "The only rule is no killing. Who's Pocahontas?"

"What happens if we leave the ring? I might want to order take out."

"If you stay outside the line too long I'll disqualify you. Are you writing a book on this or something?"

Thad shook his head. "I'm the curious type."

"I had a curious type friend once." He scowled darkly. "I shot him through while he slept."

Thad grinned, and Half-ear's lower lip popped out. "Can we get on with this? I want to stomp pretty boy's face with my heel, and I'm all aquiver."

The fighters were ready in all three rings. Buckskin raised his hand, preparing to give the go-ahead, but paused and frowned at Thad. "You look familiar."

I've got to learn to keep my mouth shut. Thad shrugged. "It might have been my doppelganger—everyone's got one you know. Mine does bad things, and then I get blamed for it."

The Gethite's eyes narrowed, but he looked away and raised his voice. "No wagering during the bouts. If you haven't placed your bet, do it now." In a moment, Buckskin dropped his hand. "Fight."

Half-ear ran at Thad in a head down charge. He stepped aside, and the big Gethite stumbled out of the ring. He quickly jumped back in, lifting fists as big around as Thad's head.

"You want to fight or run?" Thad said. "How can I whip you if you're wandering around outside the ring?"

Half-ear growled and charged again. This time he kept his head up. Thad dug in his heels and nailed him with a stiff jab to the jaw. The punch surprised Half-ear—he went wobbly, and a stream of blood flowed from his lips. He straightened, eyes blinking, and covered his chin with his fists. Thad hit him with a straight right to the ribs. He grunted and his hands dropped.

Swinging a vicious left hook, Thad clocked him on the point of the chin.

The big Gethite dropped to his knees and fell on his face with his arms at his sides. Many in the crowd, who hadn't been watching, turned toward the gasps at ring two, as the well-chiseled fighter, who hadn't yet broken a sweat, knocked out his larger opponent.

Thad immediately shadowboxed, trying to keep warm for the tougher matches coming. Those near the ring got quiet as they dragged out the unconscious fighter.

An old Gethite with thinning gray hair and a grayer beard sat in the front row with his mouth open and eyes wide. "He's fast...damn fast. Better watch out for that one."

Morse trotted off and retrieved their winnings. Thad left the ring to join him and Nassi. "We just tripled our money," Morse said, returning. "We got back what you gave the old hag plus a little. I was told the next fight pays two to one also."

Thad lifted his chin. "In that case, take it back and let it ride." He bounced on the balls of his feet to stay warm.

Morse grinned. "You got it."

# Chapter Four

# The Champion

While Thad bobbed and weaved, he studied the three fighters awaiting their turns on a nearby bench. Those three sat out the first fight. The first appeared out of shape and past his prime and seemed nervous. Thad figured the reason he came was because he needed the money. He's gone inside a minute or two.

The next, a Promethean, sat with eyes closed, apparently meditating. The yellow-skinned, long-necked alien would be a challenge should Thad have to face him. He hadn't realized there were alien off-worlders on this planet. This one had red, vertical standing, stiff hair drooping over at its ends, like a carrot top, and he wore several gold chains around his sinewy throat. As if sensing Thad's gaze on him, he opened his green, penetrating eyes.

Thad acknowledged him with a nod. He'll know Luch Chi. All of the yellow skins do. One of them taught Thorn what she knows.

Next to the Promethean sat a muscular, dark-skinned Gethite clad in red fur chaps and a matching vest without sleeves. He also wore his hair dyed the same flushed color and a gold earring in each earlobe. His hard gaze fixed on Thad through black eyes, no more than slits. This one would be difficult.

Morse tapped him on the shoulder. "They know the one they have to beat now."

Thad glanced at Nassi holding onto the lieutenant's sleeve as if drunk. The liquid mask continued to work.

Leaning in close, Morse whispered, "So far no one has paid any attention to us. I've only got one more dose of the drug though."

The other fights concluded, and Buckskin asked, "You two get away from the fighter." His gaze lingered on Nassi for a moment, but he didn't say anything more.

They retreated to a bench near the entrance, and Thad returned to ring two.

Buckskin motioned to the three seated fighters and sent one to each ring to face the winner. Thad drew the Promethean. Having sparred many times with Maggie through the years, he understood the philosophy of Luch Chi—become like liquid flowing through every weak crevice in your opponent's defenses—he just wasn't very good at it. He had learned, however, how to defend against it. He just could never manage to beat Maggie.

The Gethite stepped in between the rings and raised his clenched fist. "No more wagers. Time to fight." He dropped his hand and hurried out of the way.

Thad frowned. "I like to watch her too much, and she knows it. She uses it against me."

The Promethean paused, long arms up and open palms vertical. "You like to watch who too much?" he asked, his tongue clicking out every consonant.

"It's nothing," Thad said. "But you'd think I was a fawning teenager the way I act around her sometimes."

The Promethean lowered his arms. "I can't fight you if you're going to do nothing but distract me." He glanced at the Gethite. "Tell him to stop talking. It's annoying."

Buckskin shrugged. "There's no rule against talking, as long as he stays in the ring."

"Sorry," Thad said, settling down in a crouch with fists up. He slid to the side, watching the Promethean's feet. They always lead with their feet. Maggie does the same, only her legs look better.

The Promethean moved like a dancer with his arms raising and lowering, fanning his hands with palms open and fingers extended. Thad took his gaze off the other's feet for just a moment, to watch the beautiful, flowery, gesticulations of his thin hands. A foot kicked him in the head, and Thad stumbled backward.

The Promethean smiled.

Thad shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, and he shot a scowl at the Promethean. "That's what she does. Every single time I watch her hands, she kicks me in the head. Well I'm damn well getting tired of it."

"You're talking again."

Thad dropped and kicked the Promethean's legs out from under him. He landed on his back, but immediately leapt to his feet. They circled one another.

"I'm tired of being kicked," Thad said. "Kicked in the head, kicked in the knee, and oh yeah...in the crotch. I'm tired of, 'I need a sparring partner, Cochran,' so I can beat the living crap out of you...and call it a workout."

"Who's Cochran?" The Promethean spiraled and hit him on the jaw with a stinging back fist. "There...I didn't kick you that time."

Thad's nostril's flared, and he punched him in the gut with a straight right. The Promethean backed away, grimacing.

"You see, she knows I won't hit her back. She figures I'm all googly-eyed and falling over my tongue." Thad went after the Promethean, setting down on his punches and throwing quick combinations of jabs and hooks, with an occasional kick to keep him off balance.

The Promethean, a slick fighter, avoided many shots, but not all of them. Some punches got through and hurt him. He winced and stayed back on his heels, blood trickling from his nose and lips. He breathed heavily, and his hands dropped.

I need to keep some in the tank for the other matches. Have to finish him fast.

The Promethean spun and managed to kick Thad in the side. He straightened the Promethean with a jab and punched him square on the jaw with a stiff right. He hit the dirt floor and lay motionless.

Buckskin had been standing nearby, watching. They brought the Promethean around and got him on his feet. As they led him off, the yellow-skinned alien blinked, and then his gaze settled on Thad.

He stopped them for a moment. "I have found it is best to tell the female what is really in your heart."

"Yeah, but what if she kicks me in the head?"

"It sounds like a complicated relationship," the Promethean said. He motioned the Gethites off and left on his own power.

Thad returned to shadowboxing.

Buckskin lingered. "Last year that alien's the one fought the champ and got timed out. You're good, mister, real good. You can get a drink while we wait on the other matches if you like. I know I've seen you before. It'll come to me where and when. Maybe you should consider being one of my fighters. I pay well for talent."

In ring one, the redheaded Gethite made short work of his opponent. He gazed at Thad as he ambled to a water pail, splashed his face, and poured himself a drink.

Morse joined him with Nassi in tow. He motioned nonchalantly at the Gethite wearing red. "He's powerful." Morse lowered his voice as he said, "Stay away from his right hand, and don't let him get a hold of you."

Bleary eyed, Nassi looked at the man Morse spoke of. "Avamar Dokei," he mumbled. "He just got out of prison for beating a man to death with a horsewhip, and we don't have any horses on Geth."

Thad studied Nassi. "He seems to be coming around already."

"I don't think what the captain gave us is strong enough," Morse said.

"Give him the rest during the three-for-all. How much time did he do in prison?" Thad asked of Nassi. "He looks young."

"Oh, three or four months. The other guy deserved it for getting in the way of his whip. That's what the judge said."

Thad lowered his voice and elbowed him in the side. "Any Confederalis around here, Nassi?"

The Gethite's lower lip trembled. "I can't say."

Morse frowned.

"The drug doesn't take away his fear," Thad said. "He snitches, he dies."

"Do we do double or nothing for the three-for-all?" Morse cocked his head.

Thad nodded. "We're going to win the whole thing and cash in on the ante as well. That'll make us rich...almost."

Morse trotted off and laid down another bet. When he returned, he screwed up his mouth and gave the Gethite an easy push. "Let's sit down, old man."

The final bout ended, and the last competitor emerged after beating the out-of-shape man Thad noticed earlier—a baby-faced Gethite with long black hair. The man stood nearly seven feet tall and wore hide boots to his calves, leather trousers, and a fringed coat with no sleeves. His calves were as big around as Thad's neck.

Buckskin said, "Last one standing faces the champion. Just one ring this time, so everyone get back and give the fighters room. Pick your favorite and place your bets now." He glanced at Thad. "We'll only give you even money on this one."

Morse rose, fists clenched. "Baldy over there said double or nothing."

Buckskin smirked. "I set the rules. It's even money on your fighter." His gaze shifted to Thad. "What's your name?"

"Almett Zode." Thad spotted the redhead and the one in fringe whispering to one another. They're going to team up on me to try and get me out early.

The wagering ended, and he met the two men in the middle of the barn.

The Gethite raised his arm momentarily and clenched his fist. "Go."

The crowd cheered so loud dirt fell from the rafters.

Red ran at him first. Thad kicked the musclebound man in the knee. Red let out a yelp and hobbled. The one in fringe tackled Thad who landed hard on his back, but got his hands between them and popped Fringe's ears with his palms. When Fringe lifted his head, his face screwed up in pain, Thad gave him a shot to the jaw that dislodged him. Hot pain shot up Thad's arm, as if he'd punched a rock.

Red sprang at Thad just as he got to his feet. He backed off a step, arms extended, and kept him at bay, grappling with the big man until their fingers locked. Thad managed to wrench one hand free and nailed him in the ribs with a solid shot. Fringe came at him again; Thad stepped aside, and the Gethite plowed into Red and upended him. The pair's alliance ended quickly. They rolled in the dirt, fists flying. Thad kicked Fringe in the head, and he fell on to his face.

Nuts, I aimed for the other one. This redhead's a hard case.

Red sprang to his feet, gave the downed man a kick of his own, and then went toe to toe with Thad, leaving Fringe on his back, blinking.

Thad popped Red repeatedly in the face.

He grimaced and spit blood. "I'm going to take you down." He threw a looping right that caught Thad on the shoulder.

Better not get hit in the head by one of those—they might be carrying me out next. Thad pressed him and kicked him in the same knee. When Red backed away, he pelted him with a barrage of punches to the chest and face.

Fringe had somehow climbed to his feet, wavering and blinking, with his fists balled. Thad spun and swung a hard elbow to his forehead. The man fell on his face again and lay there groaning. Red tackled Thad, but he dug in his heels, and they grappled. He clasped the man around the neck and kneed him repeatedly in the side. Thad took a half step back and landed a heavy punch behind Red's ear. The man stumbled, and Thad kicked him in the face. He fell on his back with his eyes rolled up.

Sucking air, Thad bent over with his hands on his knees. He glanced at Fringe, but he wasn't getting up either. That's good, because I'm worn out. The crowd cheered so loud Thad's ears rang. He shot a hard look at Buckskin. "If I beat your champion, you pay up, right? Don't screw with me."

"I run an honest Balo here," the Gethite said. "Besides, you aren't going to win." He clenched his jaw. "You've got five minutes to get your wind, but it won't help you." He paused for a moment as Thad wiped the sweat from his brow. "I know you from somewhere; I just can't place you. We give five to one for the champion."

"I'm from the western city. Maybe you saw me there."

"Never been to the place," the Gethite said. "I understand the place is full of Guild infiltrators."

Thad shrugged, and then joined Morse and Nassi on the bench.

"You got a fat lip," Morse said, eyeing his face. "We should quit, like Captain Thorn said. Leave the Guild ante, and we've still just about tripled our own money. That's a pretty good day. The only money we lost wasn't ours anyway...except what you gave to her."

"Who's Captain Thorn," Nassi croaked, leaning against Morse.

"She's no one," Thad said. "She's not real."

"Not real," Nassi repeated.

"I gave him the last of it." Morse frowned and licked his lips. "We better finish this quick and get him out of here."

"One minute to the final match," Buckskin said, clanging his metal triangle.

"Let's get him back to the ship and forget this," begged Morse.

Thad stood. "We'll leave once I beat the champion."

"You look worn out."

Jumping in place, Thad stretched and rolled his shoulders. "I've got another fight in me."

Morse leaned nearer. "What did the old woman say to you? You looked worried when you came out."

"She called me Lazarus." Thad frowned. "She's crazy. I don't know what got into me."

"Let's go," Buckskin said, smirking. "I hope you've got some kind of health plan, because it's really hard to walk with every bone in your body broken."

"It's even harder to talk with my hands around your throat."

Buckskin's eyes narrowed.

Thad glanced at Morse. "Put all of it down. They'll pay five to one."

Morse did, and once he returned, Thad strode to the center of the barn. Once there, he warmed up as he bounced on the balls of his feet. A door creaked open somewhere in back of the place. All heads turned in the direction of the noise. Soon a crowd of Gethites strolled in, tossing flower petals into the audience. The spectators roared with approval, while a spotlight shone behind the entourage—on the largest, lumbering individual Thad had ever seen.

The man had an enormous, shiny, bald head and wore something akin to a loin cloth and was naked otherwise. Thad suspected he hulked out somewhere between seven and eight feet tall—and he was fat, very fat.

Thad sucked in a deep breath. He must weigh upwards of five hundred pounds.

The crowd chanted, "Numbot, Numbot." They stomped their feet and pounded on the benches as dust dropped in wafting clouds from the rafters.

The fat man kept his hands raised and clasped together, like a king at his coronation. He stopped every few feet and slugged down a flask of ale. By the time he reached Thad, he had four of them and belched several times. Whenever he did something, anything, the crowd would cheer and chant his name...even when he belched.

Finally he peered at Thad and lifted his hands to quiet the crowd. "What...are we out of real men? Perhaps we should throw this runt back after I pummel him."

The crowd cheered, and Thad continued to loosen, bouncing, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He looked at Buckskin and settled. "When I knock Fatso on his butt, no one helps him up."

The Gethite's lips thinned. "You're a cocky one, aren't you? I'll place you sooner or later. And no one has ever knocked Numbot down."

Numbot growled. "I crapped a turd about your size just this morning, puny one."

The words slipped out before Thad could stop them. "Yeah, well your mother likes me."

Something like a bear's roar erupted from the giant's throat.

Buckskin spoke quickly, "This is a timed bout. If you can't beat our champion in five minutes you default, which you will. Since I doubt you'll make it out of here with all your limbs intact, you might hope Numbot does you a favor and kills you during the match. Set the holo timer." He hurried off.

Thad glared at him. "Don't go too far with my krachnards."

A steel cable lowered from the roof of the barn with a flashing device hanging from it. In a moment, an oval holographic array shone twenty feet above the ground. Inside the array, large red numbers appeared. A shrill whistle sounded, and the red numbers began to count backward from five minutes.

Numbot strutted regally toward him with legs as big around as Thad's chest. His thighs jiggled as he walked, as did his enormous, flabby gut. Thad side-pedaled with fists up, expecting an attack.

The big man stopped and grinned. "Time is wasting, cutie pie." He stabbed a sausage-roll finger at the timer.

Thad lunged, dropped to the floor and kicked Numbot's ankles. Nothing happened except his foot recoiled off Numbot, then the giant tried to stomp him like a bug. Thad rolled over backward, jumped to his feet, and slammed his foot into Numbot's knee. The big man caught Thad's foot without flinching and slung him through the air. His head smacked the hard dirt floor. Shaking off the pain, he sprang to his feet, gaze on the timer.

The crowd chanted. "Numbot, Numbot." Someone handed him a flask of ale, and he swallowed it in one gulp.

He's faster than he looks. And has a serious drinking problem.

Numbot flung the cup aside and wiped his mouth.

Thad stepped in close, watching the big man's big hands and hit him a shot in the gut. The giant smiled and brushed at the spot as if he shooed away an insect. He lunged and swung a meat-paw Thad's way. The shot clipped his jaw, and he stumbled backward, shaking his head.

The giant charged, but Thad slipped out of his reach, stepped behind him and hook-kicked him in the back before he could stop his momentum. Numbot jerked his shoulders and spun around in a rage.

He's got a temper. Maybe I can use it against him. "You felt that, didn't you, bucket-o-lard? You need another drink?"

Again the huge man rushed him. This time Thad took a chance, jumped high, spun in midair, and aimed at his head. No good. Numbot caught him, pulled him tight against his chest, and then fell over with Thad in his grasp. Numbot landed on Thad, forcing the wind from his lungs, and pain stabbed through his ribs.

He bit him, the giant shrieked, rolled over onto his knees, and then pushed to his feet with an appalled expression on his face. Thad got up, laboring to get a breath, and clutching his side.

Numbot looked at his bleeding arm, then glared at Thad. "You bit me! With your teeth."

Using the distraction, Thad sprang at him and drop-kicked Numbot in the face. The force of the shot sent him crashing onto his back. After regaining his footing, Thad ran at Numbot and leapt in a horizontal glide, hammering the big man square in the chest with his elbow when he landed on him.

Numbot grunted, grabbed him tight again, and squeezed. Thad's face disappeared into a fleshy fold of the giant's arm, and his ears popped. The Gethite loosened his grip just long enough to tilt his big head and squint at the timer. "One minute left, pretty boy."

Snarling, Thad bit him again. When Numbot squealed, he also let him go. Slipping under his grasp, Thad dropped him with a straight, powerful right. When the giant fell onto his back this time, Thad pounced on top with his knees pinning the giant's arms. With his knees digging into Numbot's arms, Thad pounded the man's face with a furious barrage of heavy blows.

The crowd fell silent as Thad kept swinging like a lumberjack taking down a big tree.

Numbot, cuts opening on his cheeks, managed to get an arm free and slugged Thad in the chest. The punch knocked him off the Gethite. He hit the dirt, and then struggled to his feet breathing heavy...holding his side with one hand and his chest with the other as pain ricocheted within. The crowd erupted again, chanting, "Numbot, Numbot."

"Thirty seconds," Buckskin said, joyously.

The partisan throng began a unified countdown, and Thad remembered what Maggie said in her ready room that morning. "I'm going to show you a move."

Numbot sat up and weakly rose to his feet. Thad let him stand then darted at him and jumped onto his chest with a forearm in his throat. His legs wrapped around him, and his free hand clutched the back of the man's head. Numbot crushed him in a vice-like grip. Thad held on as the giant swung him side-to-side, and as he clung there, he jammed his forearm harder against the giant's throat just as Maggie instructed.

"Fifteen seconds."

Slowly Numbot's grip loosened, and he went wobbly. The countdown continued, and the Gethite's eyes rolled up into his enormous cranium.

"Five...four...three...two..."

Thad let him go and dropped to his feet. The big man fell like an enormous, creaking tree. He landed onto his back, eyes dull, and a thick cloud of dust rose, blanketing everyone in the barn with a gray powder.

Buckskin motioned with flailing arms. "Time's up. You lost. Time's up."

He growled. "What do you mean time's up? I had a second to go."

"Nope." Buckskin shook his head. "He didn't hit the floor until a second after the timer went to zero. You lose."

Thad stomped toward him. "I don't think so." His eyes narrowed, and he balled his fists.

Just then, the Gethite from the tavern appeared in the doorway of the barn shouting, "I need help. Nassi Foke's gone missing. Two men came by asking about him, and then he disappeared, and he ain't finished fixing my stool." His gaze landed on Thad. "That's one of them right there."

# Chapter Five

# An Offer Hard to Refuse

Morse had worry lines etched into his forehead as he chucked Thad his clothes so he could hurriedly dress.

When the barkeep pointed to the two men, Buckskin intensely studied Thad. "Now I remember. I saw him fight in a Balo years ago in Confederation space. He's Thad Cochran." His gaze cut to Numbot, still lying motionless. "He's Thieves Guild! I think he killed Numbot. Put him in some kind of choke hold, he did. Just look how big the hole is poor Numbot made when he fell. How are we going to get him out of there?"

Thad glared at Buckskin. "You owe me. I beat him fair and square."

The crowd pressed in, and Buckskin smiled. "It'll be hard to spend your money when you're dead. What did you do with Nassi Foke?"

Slurring, Nassi answered, "Who wants me?"

Buckskin's eyes narrowed.

Thad slipped his hand into a pocket, yanking it out and slinging a stun grenade in the direction of Buckskin and the crowd behind him. The device went off, resembling canned lightning as it flashed and flickered. The barn filled with shrieks and confusion.

He lobbed another toward the door and white arcs of energy knocked men to the ground...including the barkeep, clearing a path for them. Thad hurled several smoke grenades, and an acrid, black haze filled the place, burning his eyes.

Through the smoke, he spotted the silhouette of Buckskin, arm outstretched and a weapon in his hand. Grabbing Nassi by the arm, with Morse holding the other, they stumbled through the doorway as a laser shot flashed near Thad's head. The barkeep was stunned, but alert. Lying on his back he grabbed Thad by the cuff of the trousers as he stepped through the doorway.

Morse kicked him in the head. The barkeep groaned and let go, and they took off at a gallop.

Thirty feet into the alley they'd used to cross to the barn, Thad turned and threw more smoke grenades.

Morning Toill hovered on her top step as if she'd been waiting for their return. She pointed a crooked finger in the direction they'd come. "Not everyone here is afraid of the curses of an old witch." She shrank back into her doorway. "You best hurry. The rest are taking the long way around. But you'll need this." She threw a rawhide pouch. "The daughter of Geth has no need of your dream money, Thieves Guild pilot." She farted and slammed the door.

He caught it and realized his money had been rolled up and stuffed inside.

Footsteps echoed behind them. Buckskin had followed them into the alley. Thad grabbed Nassi by the arm and dragged him. "Move it, Lemaru. He's the one who shot at us in the barn. I think we've found a Confederali." He flipped his last stun grenade behind them, and they bolted.

They reached the clearing near the river and located the particle rider. Thad stood guard, watching the path behind them.

Nassi huffed and puffed from the exertion, and his gaze shifted side-to-side, blinking and trying to focus. He twisted his lips. "Where are we?"

"We're going for a ride and you're coming along," Morse said.

"A ride? Sounds nice."

Thad looked back. A lone figure ran toward them. Morse threw the tarp aside and opened the dome of the particle rider. A laser shot exploded nearby, filling the air with white smoke. Thad returned fire. "Get us out of here, Lieutenant. You said you wanted a turn at the helm."

"Yes, sir," Morse said, circling the craft and jumping in behind the controls.

Thad grabbed Nassi, dumped him in the back seat, then he hopped in and fired off another shot. "Now, Lieutenant."

Morse engaged the engines, and the dome began to shut. As the vessel lifted off in a cloud of dirt and dried leaves—an instant before the dome closed—a white bolt of energy flashed through the cockpit, singing the hair on the back of Thad's neck. Morse throttled the engines, the dome locked, and the vessel roared off. They had yet to clear the tree line when Thad spotted Buckskin standing at the mouth of the clearing, a grin on his Gethite face. The craft zipped vertical, and in a moment they split the clouds.

With a knot in his gut, Thad stared into the back seat. The laser shot had burned a hole through the temple of their prisoner. The Gethite slouched against the dome, head cocked back, mouth open, and his eyes glazed and staring. A small wisp of white smoke still drifted from the hole in his head. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair filled the cabin.

Once the vessel broke through the Gethite atmosphere, Morse chanced a look behind him. "The captain's going to kill us. And they got all our money. There goes your ranch, Commander. And I was hoping to buy a new rocket bike when we got back to Daggon."

Thad eyed the dead man in the back seat. "That was an intentional assassination." He held up the rawhide pouch. "We've still got half of what we started out with. It could have been worse."

"I got him killed," Morse said, his lips thin. "I was too slow taking off."

Thad shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. Anyway, we got plenty of images."

"Yes, sir."

Morse banked the small vessel toward the massive eagle-shaped cruiser. The ship's silver hull reflected the yellow light of the dwarf star at the center of this system. Thad blinked and looked away.

"So we did our job. Let me have your com, and I'll give it to the captain." Thad lifted his chin. "How do I look?"

Morse handed him his com. "Your lip's swollen, not much else. You beat them all, Commander. No one beats you at Balo...ever. You're the greatest Balo fighter in the galaxy. And you're the greatest pilot too."

Thad's brow furrowed. "I got tired. That didn't use to happen. Captain Thorn is right; I need to get into shape." He licked the sore spot on his lip and touched it with a probing finger

"How'm I doing now, Commander?"

The Independence loomed before them and docking lights flashed along the lower belly of the ship, pointing them toward a particular bay port.

"You're as good a pilot as I am, Lieutenant."

Morse grinned and straightened at the helm.

The Guild computer said, "You are free to land, Commander Cochran."

"Actually, I'm driving this vessel," the lieutenant said.

The hangar bay door slid aside, and he slowed the rider. The craft drifted into the ship, and when the airlock closed behind them, the inner door opened. He steered the rider inside, with lower thrusters firing, and then set the thing down in a small curl of orange fire.

Wearing Guild khakis, the baby-faced lieutenant, and communications officer, Gome Learn, trotted across the hangar bay toward them. He eyed their Gethite attire as they dropped out of the rider. "Did you get him? Why won't Captain Thorn let me go on these kind of missions?"

"She's probably afraid I'll corrupt you like I've done Lemaru." Thad motioned toward the rider with his chin. "What's left of him is inside."

Gome stood on tip-toes and gasped. He looked at Thad. "I'm pretty sure the captain said he had to be alive if you were to cash in on the finder's fee."

"Get Doc Branch down here," Thad said. "We'll need something official on the manner of death. He's been torched by a laser, if that isn't already obvious."

"Captain Thorn wants to see you...by yourself." Learn glanced at Morse. "Lemaru, she said to get your fat butt up to the bridge and get us back to Daggon."

Morse scowled. "Don't call me fat, toothpick."

Thad swatted Morse on the back, then took a deep breath and walked to the personnel elevator. Once inside he eyed his reflection in the metallic walls. He touched his lip gingerly and stuffed the pouch of money in his pocket.

The computer asked, "Where to, Commander?"

"Third level."

The door closed, and the thing hummed for a few moments. A small jolt followed then the door opened. Thad paced the corridor he had strode earlier in the day. The door to the ready room stood open, so he knocked on the metal bulkhead.

"Come in, Commander."

She had the portal wall open and stared out at Geth. "How did it go?" She didn't turn around, but she looked up, as if staring at his reflection in the glass.

"The Gethite's dead, but we got photos, like you asked." He lifted Morse's com. She turned, and he tossed it to her.

She caught it and crossed to her desk. "Confederation encroachment is on the rise on these neutral worlds. The signs are all around us—we'll be at war soon. Guild blood will be spilled here if the Confederalis flip this planet in order to get at Daggon."

"You think it's that bad?"

"Take it to the bank, Cochran. Fleet has eyes and ears everywhere." She glanced at him as she sat. "How'd he die?"

"They were chasing us. The Gethite that ran the Balo burned him through."

She popped the com into a portal on her desk. "Computer, let's have a look at the pictures Mister Lemaru took." She chewed on her lip as images appeared in a holographic array on the opposite side of the ready room. "Did you get any info out of him, Cochran?"

He nodded. "His contact on Daggon was a Daggonite...no name. He wore a ring with the Weller Crest on it. That's about all he knew."

She eyed the floating, green holographic image. Thad walked to it and pointed at the first three-dimensional photo. "This guy's the barkeep where Nassi worked."

Maggie squinted. "What do we have on this one?"

The male voice of the Guild computer answered. "I'm afraid we have no information, dear heart. You seem to be having problems seeing from there; shall I dim the lights?"

"That won't be necessary."

Thad grinned. "It seems the computer is smitten."

She hit a button on her desk, and agitation rose in her tone when she said, "Lieutenant Learn?"

"Ma'am?"

"The computer is being forward with me again. I thought I told you to fix it."

"I did, Captain. I can't figure out why it only does this with you. I'll try something else."

"See that you do." She killed the link and glared at Thad. "Wipe that leer off your face, or I'll make you spar with me."

He felt his smile vanish.

After several images of various spectators at the Balo, Thad stopped on Buckskin. "That's the one who ran the Balo. He killed Nassi. I believe he went after him intentionally."

The computer said, "Name, Ober Kile. He's a general in Confederation intelligence. I have also discovered a match for one other individual from our wanted files. Would you like to see the image, Captain?"

"Please."

Numbot appeared in the array, only he wore a dress blue Confederation uniform. Maggie pulled at her ear. "Captain Demetial Numbot. Was an army intelligence goon."

"Was?"

She nodded. "Word's already out you killed him. Just add this to the list of planets you're no longer welcome on. That's enough for now, computer." The hologram vanished, and Maggie's hands went to her hips. She glared at him. "I told you when I showed you that move not to push with your forearm for too long."

"I thought he was still alive. Honest. He was so fat I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. How did you know I'd be fighting him?"

"You were supposed to drop out before the final fight," she said, clenching her jaw. "But I knew that would never happen. You're a hard head, Cochran. If you were serving under some other command, you'd be tossed out of the Guild by now." She left her desk and returned to the portal with her hands clasped behind her back. "Fleet thinks some of our own people were involved in sharing secrets through Nassi Foke. I hoped to interrogate him myself."

"Guild officers?"

"That's right."

Thad touched his swollen lip. "I'm tired. I think I'll head to my quarters if it's all right."

"One of these days you're going to have to grow up, Cochran. You could be so much more if you put your mind to it. The Guild needs leaders. I hate this finder's fee business. I hate the way Fleet uses you on these covert missions. You realize you won't be paid?"

He stopped in the doorway, suddenly weary and aching, and turned. "My mother and sister are buried in a little valley on Beta Prime. That's the land I'm going to buy. It's what I care about." He hesitated. "It would be lonely if I did it by myself."

Her expression softened. "You can't live your entire life dreaming. Living in the here-and-now is important too. This is my ship. My ship is my life. When you get to your quarters you've got a message from Thandimone waiting for you."

He frowned. "There was an old woman living near the barn. You saw her pictures there. Is she a Guild agent? A Confederali, maybe?"

"She's not known to intelligence. Why?"

"She seemed to know things about me. Does the name Lazarus mean anything to you? The crazy old hag called me that name."

"Haven't you ever read the Bible, Cochran? Christ raised Lazarus from the dead. How much did you lose?"

His lips thinned. "Just about half. But I won the match."

She faced her portal. "Winning or losing depends on one's perspective. Like I said, you've got a message from Fleet waiting on your private computer."

In his quarters, Thad stripped off the Gethite fur, changed and checked his messages as he sat on his bunk. A zip link from the frontier council flashed in the array near his bunk. "Let the admiral know I'm available, computer."

"Very well, Commander." A far wall flickered and sprang to life. "I have an active link now."

An image appeared on the wall. Rear Admiral Jonedess leaned back in his chair at his desk. A corpulent, irritable man with hanging jowls and drooping eyes, he wore dress whites, and his hat sat on his long, mahogany desk.

He didn't bother hiding his distaste. "Commander Cochran. I have an offer for you. Believe me, if I knew of someone else who could pull this off, I wouldn't be talking to you."

"What kind of offer?"

"I understand you are in need of money, and I have a way for you to earn quite a bit of it." He leaned on his desk and his lips thinned. "There's a particular item on Timmerus. The Guild has need of it. It's a dangerous undertaking, and you'll have to go it alone."

"I can't stand the yazz," Thad said. "And I hate that planet, Admiral. I think I'll pass."

"There will be more than enough for you to buy your ranch."

Thad frowned.

"It's not exactly a closely guarded Guild secret you want land on Beta Prime. You'll even have enough for ample livestock and building supplies."

"What do I have to do?"

"Steal something very valuable."

"What is it?"

"You'll learn more later. Do we have a deal?"

Rubbing his jaw, Thad drew up his mouth. "The yazz stink, Admiral. They're just plain weird."

"Four million Guild dollars. The finder's fee Fleet is offering."

Thad's mouth dropped open. "Do I have to kill somebody, because I'm pretty sure I'd do it for that kind of money."

"Then we have a deal?"

Thad jerked his chin upward.

"I'll pass along subsequent orders through Captain Thorn for now, but there will be a time when you will hear from this council directly."

"You mean keep her out of the loop, sir?"

He nodded. "I'll expect you to keep all information to yourself unless we share it with Thorn first." Reaching for his com, the admiral hesitated with a stubby finger hovering above the device. His brow furrowed. "You could have gone far in the Guild, son. You could have worked hard and ended up on Daggon running Fleet at some point in your career. You think I don't like you. You're wrong. I don't like that you've wasted your life. You're a born leader, but you prefer to fistfight for a few bucks instead of leading the next generation into the future." Shaking his head slowly he said, "What a waste." And killed the link.

The computer spoke. "Captain Thorn is at the door and wishes to enter."

"Let her in."

Maggie didn't cross the threshold. She stood there with her hands on her hips. "You know about me. I told you things no one else knows."

"I know."

"I earned this ship at Coomrun. I watched brave soldiers die one by one and it changed me. It made me Guild through and through. You're not Guild. You're not Confederation. You're not anything. I won't walk away from the Guild."

He looked at his feet then back up. "Let someone else bear the burden."

She jabbed an accusing finger at him. "That's your problem. Responsibility for the lives of others is no burden. People look up to you, like Lieutenant Lemaru. He worships the ground you walk on. I said it earlier...war is coming. People are going to look to you. They'll look to the great star pilot, but they won't find him because he's raising cattle in the wilderness, or fist fighting for a few bucks on some godforsaken hole-in-the-wall planet."

"I never asked anyone to look to me. I'm going to buy that land."

"Then you'll do it alone. And by the way..." Her eyes burned with fury. "...if Jonedess messes with my ship and her crew, there'll be hell to pay. I might even forget we're friends." She turned and marched off with her chin up.

Thad trotted to the door. "Thorn, what do you mean, mess with this ship? Why would Jonedess do that?"

She didn't answer. "Grow up, Cochran, and think about someone other than yourself for a change."

He returned to his bunk and sat. She'll change her mind one day. There's more to life than the Guild...there has to be. He stretched out on his bunk. Why does it have to be Timmerus? I hate that planet. The old woman came to mind, and he sat up, restlessly. Whoever heard of a farting witch? In a moment, he pulled himself out of bed and slogged to the portal.

Looking down at the small, purplish world, a knot of conscience formed in his gut. The engines hummed through the metal floor, and the ship came about. Morse is taking us out of orbit. Thad gazed at the small planet until it vanished. He remembered how the old woman called to him when they left the alley, and he wondered if the buckskin-clad Gethite heard her and maybe saw her toss him the pouch of money.

Buckskin might have seen her talking to me. He might think she was helping us. Thad got on the com.

"What is it, Cochran?"

"Captain, the old woman tried to help us. I figure we've got eyes down there and that's why we know what we know. Anyone there we could send to keep an eye on her? Her name is Morning Toill, and she lives near the barn where the Balo was held."

"Maybe you can think about someone other than yourself, after all, Cochran. I'm impressed."

"Will you?"

"A friend of mine, from back in my days in special operations, contacted me a couple weeks ago with the news the Confederalis were up to something there. He's a widower and lives with his daughter in the eastern city. He's not Guild, but he went to school on Daggon and that's how we met. He loves Geth and wants to see it modernized, and he owns a shop in the market, near where the old woman lives. I'll send him to look in on her."

"Thank you." Thad paused.

"What?"

"What kind of friend was he?"

"Just a friend. Are you jealous, Cochran?"

"Maybe."

"Get some rest. You're getting delirious."

Thad couldn't sleep, so he sat on the edge of his bunk thinking about the old woman and the name, Lazarus.

Why didn't she tell me she had a boyfriend when she was in special ops? Wait...am I jealous?

# Epilogue

# The Cursed

The old woman had fallen asleep in her chair. A noise awoke her, and she glanced at the window. Outside the world had turned to twilight. She squinted in the growing darkness, and heard the sound again—a creaking hinge.

Her gaze drifted to the door, and it slowly opened. A tall man stood there, shrouded in twilight, and his face concealed in shadows, but she knew him—the one who did not fear her curses. The one who had chased the Guild pilot. He had come back...as she knew he would.

Behind him, a voice said, "Let's go. Leave her alone. We don't need her curses. Things are bad enough now with Numbot gone."

The one behind him could be seen more clearly—bald and heavy, fear shining in his darting eyes. She knew they worked together in the prize fights. She also knew they labored for a power beyond Geth—an evil force. "Have you come to murder me, you traitors of your own people?"

"Aye," the one in the doorway said, his breathing erratic and quick. "I've come to end the disgusting life of the hideous, deformed daughter of Geth. Here is my laser. Where are your curses now, old witch?"

A brilliant, white flash erupted from his hand. Her belly burned, and she groaned. She rocked back in her chair, and the foul odor of her own charred flesh gagged her. She could not feel her feet or toes, but she could raise a trembling hand.

She pointed a bony finger at him, then cried out, coughing and gasping. "Away from all thy comrades be...'til Lazarus comes...to vanquish thee." Her hand dropped.

He screamed and dropped the weapon. "I'm on fire! Someone help me." A look of horror crawled into his eyes. He turned and stumbled down the steps.

The other one gasped. "Your skin...it's blistering and bleeding. Don't come near me. It's some kind of disease. Beg her to forgive you and give her whatever money we have."

"Get out of my way."

He staggered off, but the fat one returned, trembling, and fell to his knees across the threshold. "Oh, daughter of Geth, please do not curse me. This was not my idea." He bowed his face to the floor. "Please, Morning Toill, have mercy."

"Go away. I'm fresh out of curses."

Hesitantly, he rose to his feet and stared at her as she clutched at her wound. His eyes rounded, and he ran off.

Her lower half went numb. She couldn't get out of the chair, so she stared out the door, at the view from her life for many, many years. It is not a bad day to die, and the pain is easing.

Soon she heard footsteps. The young girl from that morning had come back and now stood in her doorway. "Can we come in to help you?"

The old woman nodded.

When the girl reached her side, and her gaze fell on the wound in her belly, a thin man, wearing the striped mantle of a Geth merchant, stepped into the doorway. The girl looked back. "I think she's dying, Papa."

He hurried to her side and lifted a com as he shined a light on her wound.

She eyed the gadget. "Not many have such things on Geth."

He stooped beside her and examined her wound. "I went to school on Daggon and never intended to return. I came back to visit my parents, met Elle's mother, and never went back. Those two who did this to you are Confederation infiltrators. There is a Guild ship in orbit, and I know its captain—she's a friend of mine. I was asked by her, to come look in on you. It seems you also know my little girl, so maybe my coming was meant to be."

She grunted. "I would like to be buried in the courtyard where the palace of Geth once stood. There is a place there for me, near my father and mother. She was the one Geth truly loved—he told me so." She smiled.

"The wound is clean and has stopped bleeding, but I can't tell if the shot hit an organ."

"I can't feel my legs."

He shined the light of his com into her eyes. "Try not to move until I get back." He stood and touched the girl on the shoulder. "Stay with her while I find a doctor." He fled, and the girl approached her hesitantly, her eyes moist and her lips thin.

The old woman's lips stretched. "Did you take to the family of Jaffe Lod the gold coin, Elle Aliee?"

She nodded and a tear spilled down her cheek.

The old woman coughed. "No need for tears. I've lived a full life. What happened with Jaffe Lod?"

He asked me to forgive him, then his mother gave the coin back to me."

"Did you forgive him?"

"Yes." More tears fell, and she lifted her hand. In it she held a large red gem. "This was in the ragdoll you gave me. I brought it back to you. My father says it is a very rare jewel."

"This is the dowry Geth left me. It is most valuable." She closed the girl's hand over the gem. "I want you to have it. I've been looking for someone to give it to."

The girl wiped at her tears. "I told my papa what you told me to do. He agreed and sent me over there with the coin. Because of this he has changed his mind about you. Now he says only the cursed truly fear your curses." She looked at the wound in the old woman's belly, and her lips trembled. "You'll come home with us now. We have room. And you can tell me stories about Geth."

The old woman winced. Her eyes grew heavy and things became real still. "Use the jewel of Geth wisely, Elle Aliee."

A small hand slipped into her own, like a mooring line, as she closed her eyes with a sigh.

## Dedication

THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO MY DEAR FAMILY

Kerri: My love and my best friend.

Joshua: Independent, just like me.

Jeremiah: Close to God and tender of heart.

Abigail: Talented and sweet.

John-Daniel: Bright eyes and full of life.

I love you all so very much.

## Acknowledgement

I wish to thank Martha Eskuchen, eTreasures Publishing owner for believing in me and to Ellen Spain, Acquisitions Editor for her mentorship. Special thanks to all the other great editors who are transforming my manuscripts into real books: Patricia Bates, Cassiel Knight, and Cher Green.

## Meet the Author

When John Doody was younger, some well-meaning folks told him that he was going to be a famous author and poet. He then spent quite a few years trying to live up to that expectation, but he could never quite figure out what it was he should write about. During those years he found out that he could write comfortably in just about any genre and that people enjoyed his stories, but he just didn't have a direction to follow as an author. Eventually he gave up writing and concentrated on the most important things in his life: faith, family, and being the best Christian—the best man—he could be. It was the smartest decision he ever made.

Today John believes God gives all of us a second chance at life, no matter our age. The stories he writes today come from his heart and he knows exactly where his writing is going. He's not looking for fame and fortune. He writes about things that come from his heart in order to touch the reader's heart.

WEBSITE:

johndoody.com

BLOG:

johnjosephdoody.blogspot.com

Thank you for reading _The Daughter of Geth_ from eTreasures Publishing. If you enjoyed reading this novel, please help the author by leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads and/or tell a friend who may like it.

If you enjoyed this you may be interested reading the next books in this series:

The Guild Saga, Book One

 The Wonk Decelerator

By John Joseph Doody

For Earthers dwelling in Guild space, it is a one-hundred year journey back to Earth. An unimaginable voyage, until now.

When Guild commander and crack pilot, Thad Cochran boards the shuttle destined for the casinos of Timmerus, finding a way back to Earth is not on his radar. He wants the five-percent finder's fee the Guild is offering for a black box held by the lizard-like Yazz. Thad has a dream: With the loot he will get for stealing the Wonk Decelerator, he can buy a ranch on Beta Prime.

But things begin to fall apart for him in the dark caverns of Timmerus, and Thad must reconsider his priorities in life. Has he discovered a cause greater than his dream? Are there actually more important things to life than money and his dream? What about the woman who is waiting for him? What about freedom in the galaxy? And what about his discovery, fashioned by the gnarled hands of a brilliant, old Yazz, that could change everything?

Thad Cochran has a choice to make. He can fulfill his quest, escape with his life and be rich. Or he can fly with the Wonks ... one more time.

**The Guild Saga, Book Two**

 The Late, Great Benjamin Bale

By John Joseph Doody

The destinies of two men depend on Maggie Thorn. One is dying and the other is dead...or is he?

Supreme Fleet Commander, Admiral Geoff Grangore knows of only one man who could get Maggie to Timmerus and back while traitorous eyes are watching. That man is an old drunk who lives deep in the Thandimonean wilderness with his pet Eno, Snot. Benjamin Bale is suicidal and cantankerous, and Maggie can't stand him—at first.

Bale is a dead man. At least, that's what everyone was told. But this dead man has a final mission to perform. The greatest star pilot in the galaxy has a chance to redeem himself and make right a great wrong. A wrong he can never forgive or forget. A wrong that cost him everything.

The Guild Saga, Book Three

to be released in December 2015.

 Return of the Crimson Witch

By John Joseph Doody

The Bashtier call Wonk space, Eerindark—The Place of the Dead—and Thad Cochran, the only pilot to go there and live, will soon find out why. The sacrifice of Benjamin Bale brings Thad back from the dead. But is he truly free from the death grip of the Wonks?

A body is discovered behind an apartment wall in a small town on the planet Daggon. With the mystery thrust upon him, Admiral Geoff Grangore must pursue a dangerous quest for the truth—is it somehow connected to The Wonk Decelerator?

Dreams and visions are dancing in the heads of the yazz. Something bad is coming to the frontier—a hidden enemy only the Guild traitor, Alexander Hamilton Patho, knows.

Patho sends an assassin to Daggon, and his conniving gaze is on the M-3 Wonk vessel. It seems civil war is imminent and those who control the power of Wonk travel will rule the known galaxy. Therefore, it must not fall into Patho's hands.

It is time for war and time for Maggie Thorn to learn the truth about who she really is. It is also time for the Return of the Crimson Witch.

If you are looking for post-apocalyptic adventure check out _Seeking Shelter at the End of the World_.

Seeking Shelter at the End of the World

by

Joyce Reynolds-Ward

Rianna, one of the genetically engineered weather monitoring modelers known as Canaries, has been cast out by the Canaries and is hunted by those who once protected her and who have murdered her boyfriend.

In a world threatened by toxic Clouds, will Rianna be able to find love and safety?

