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Bieber's Finger. Craig Nybo
Читать онлайн.Название Bieber's Finger
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780988406438
Автор произведения Craig Nybo
Серия The Pan-Galactic Prom Show
Издательство Ingram
“Sis--”
“If you don’t, I swear, I’m gonna go to the cops and the newsmen and tell them everything. And I’m gonna make sure DePechio knows that it was your little sis who was the rat.”
“He’ll kill you,” Butch said, spreading his hands expressively.
“Nope, you’ll kill me. He might pull the trigger, but it’ll be you who knows that you didn’t give me my one chance to help Ma.”
Butch paced back and forth across the room. He tried for another half hour to argue with her. But he knew, once Twana made up her mind about something, no matter how crazy that something was, she would never let it go. In the end, he agreed to get her in front of Orlando DePechio. But in the back of his mind, he was certain that neither he nor his sister would live through whatever it was she had in mind.
Chapter 8
Meanwhile, Somewhere On Planet Hull...
The Ice Beetles left the collapsed caverns. A company of excavators recovered a handful of wagons to carry supplies and the wounded. The strong helped the weak on their march. Nichang chose a patch of high ground on a bluff nearly a half-day’s travel away to set up camp. By nightfall the second day most of the Ice Beetles slept under cover. A smattering of shelters woven from knife grass harvested along the way protected them from the elements. At least Tyche the God of Ice had granted them favorable weather. Nichang sent up a prayer of thanks for the sun and for the lack of storm clouds.
Colonel Chi of the Shreevers and the Second Infantry Unit established outposts and wandering sentries surrounding the encampment. Without the security of the ice caverns, constant RECON would be necessary. The jungles were full of creatures who harbored more than a casual taste for Ice Beetles.
Nichang assembled three emissaries, the minister of agriculture, the minister of geography, and the minister of engineering. The four of them convened under a knife grass awning near the top of a rise to discuss the colony’s next move.
“There is plenty of food,” the minister of agriculture said. “We can forage. But I recommend that we feed in zones. If we allow families to go anywhere they want, our scent will draw shrank cats.”
“We’ll garrison an area for foraging,” Nichang said. “Can you organize harvesting crews who can gather food without leaving a trace?”
“There is always a trace,” the minister of agriculture said. “But I will do what I can.”
Nichang turned to the minister of engineering. “Have you compiled a report of the damages?”
“We can not recover the ice caverns. The Voles’ new weapon is quite thorough. There might be habitable caverns deep beneath the surface, but it would take years to excavate.”
“We don’t have years,” Nichang said. He turned to the minister of geography, “Are there any ice caverns nearby where we can hole up?”
The minister of geography spread his top two rakes in a shrug. “It’s no secret that there is no love lost between our colony and the Sini colonies up north.”
“They’d just as soon the Voles kill us all,” the minister of engineering said.
“We know they won’t harbor us,” Nichang said. “But are there any other caverns within a reasonable distance?”
“There are the Wasteland Caverns,” the minister of geography said.
“Those caves are cursed,” the minister of agriculture said, “And the nearest food source is a half-day’s travel.”
“Other than the Wasteland Caverns,” the minister of geography tapped his spicules on the table. “We are in for at least a month’s travel overland to get to the nearest options. Even then, finding a cavern large enough will be monumentally difficult.”
The quartet of Beetles went silent, feeling the weight of what lay ahead heavy on their shoulders.
Nichang spoke up. “Here’s what we are going to do.” He addressed the minister of geography. “I need you to organize an expedition, no more than eight Beetles. We need them to find a network of caverns suitable for the entire colony. When they do, order them to send half of their expedition back with the best travel route and supply lists.”
“In the meantime, where will we live?” the minister of agriculture said.
“We have no choice but to go to the Wasteland Caverns.”
“The colony isn’t going to like it,” the minister of engineering said.
“If we stay overland, we will be dead within days,” Nichang said.
The meeting went silent.
Finally, the minister of geography spoke up. “I will assemble search parties. But this is a long shot.”
Nichang nodded, knowing that he wore the same drawn expression as he saw on the other Beetles’ faces. He ended the meeting with a few words of encouragement.
As the ministers left the knife grass awning, Nichang prepared himself mentally for his next meeting, a meeting where he would ask a few of his closest friends and the most elite among Ice Beetles for the ultimate sacrifice.
Chapter 9
Meanwhile, Somewhere on Planet Earth...
Butch and Twana sat across the street from Edward Chang’s dive-bomb of a Chinese restaurant on the western fringe of town. Few patrons visited Edward Chang’s and when they tried the awful egg foo yung or the lousy kung pow pork, they rarely returned. That was because the real owner of Edward Chang’s, a gangster named Orlando DePechio, didn’t want patrons to like the food. Edward Chang’s made DePechio plenty of money, but not by serving first-class Chinese cuisine. Of course, for the right patrons, the skeleton crew of cooks could whip up something brilliant.
Two muscular men dressed in almost identical black suits stood outside the entrance to the Chinese restaurant, the neon glow from a luminescent dragon marquee washing down on them in orange and pink. Both men wore dark glasses even though the sun had gone down at least an hour ago. They took more than a little notice of Butch’s rattletrap car parked across the street. One of the bruisers put a hand beneath his lapel. The other looked up and down the street, scanning for possible witnesses.
“You have to do exactly what I say,” Butch said.
Twana bit the tip of her little finger as she looked at the nondescript restaurant.
“These guys don’t mess around.”
“Just get me in there and let me talk to him.”
Butch fixed her with a stern expression. “Twana, you can’t go spewing off at this guy. He’s not me. If you rub him the wrong way, he’s liable to hurt you real bad.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Twana said, rolling her eyes.
Butch ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. He looked out the window at the two guards. He didn’t know their names, but he ran into them regularly when he brought numbers or parcels to Edward Chang’s. “Stay here,” he said and got out of the car.
The two iron-jawed toughs watched Butch cross the street. He ambled to them, hands out where they could be seen.
“Who’s the skirt,” one of the guards asked.
Butch swallowed hard. Here goes. “Either of you guys have family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Who is she,” the guard asked again.
“It goes like this, you see; she’s my sister.