Reunited: A Cybil Lewis SF Mystery Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Reunited:

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Patrons!

  Other Nicole Givens Kurtz’s Titles

  Try Nicole Givens Kurtz’s Other Titles

  ABOUT NICOLE GIVENS KURTZ

  You May Also Enjoy

  Reunited:

  A Cybil Lewis SF Mystery

  By:

  Nicole Givens Kurtz

  Rock Hill, South Carolina

  Copyright

  REUNITED:

  A CYBIL LEWIS SF MYSTERY

  Originally Published in Space Cops Anthology in 2014

  ISBN: 978-0984004256

  Copyright Nicole Givens Kurtz ©2014

  The author reserves all moral rights. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. If you purchased the eBook version of this work, please note that eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.

  Credits:

  Cover art: Natania Barron

  Editor: Misty Massey

  Proofreader: Melissa Gilbert

  Dedication

  For Weston

  Patrons!

  Thank you, patrons, for continuing to donate and support Nicole’s creative efforts and works.

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  Other Nicole Givens Kurtz’s Titles

  Kingdom of Aves Mysteries

  Kill Three Birds

  Cybil Lewis SF Mystery Series

  Silenced: A Cybil Lewis SF Mystery

  Cozened: A Cybil Lewis SF Mystery

  Replicated: A Cybil Lewis SF Mystery

  Collected: A Cybil Lewis SF Collection

  Minster Knights of Souls Space Opera Series

  The Soul Cages: A Minister Knight of Souls Novel

  Devourer: A Minister Knight of Souls Novel

  Candidate Science Fiction Series

  Zephyr Unfolding: A Candidate Novel

  Weird Western Anthology

  Sisters of the Wild Sage: A Weird Western Collection

  Reunited: A Cybil Lewis Story

  #

  reunited-[ˌrēyo͝oˈnīt’ ed]- come together or cause to come together again after a period of separation or disunity

  One

  The scarlet oval winked as the crisp air bit my cheeks. Something about the cold, manufactured moon air, left much to be desired. The oxygen mixture coated my tongue in a bitter film, and I grunted, battling back the urge to spit. If I opened my mouth now, more than tainted saliva would spew forth—like curse words and more than a sliver of rage.

  I ground my teeth against each other, keeping all threats of violations at bay.

  For now.

  The laser gun’s whine punctured the still tense air.

  A soldier stepped out of the shadows. “Who are you?” Gloved hands slung the cannon around narrow shoulders clothed in the moon colony’s spacesuit style.

  “Cybil Lewis,” I replied, not even trying to hide my identity. With my laser gun and its holster hung up back in the District on Earth, I wouldn’t be able to lie my way out of this one. Due to space travel regulators, I couldn’t bring my gun, so no threatening him into submission. Layers of nylon cotton blend kept me warm despite the frigid manufactured moon air, but the dread piling into my belly—it burned. The snitch’s tip that Charlotte Satou was here had been suspect to begin with.

  This ambush confirmed it.

  I glared at the Southeast Territories Marine. The Southeast Territories’ tentacles stretched into everything. So, it didn’t surprise me when I spotted the SE Marine badge stitched onto his shoulder. Yes, they would be in bed with the EuroRepublic’s conglomerate of greed and nasal accents.

  The tint on the visor shielded his face. Was it a robot? The moon colony wars had plowed on for over fifteen years now, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d gone to using robots because the supply of humans had thinned out.

  On second thought, no, the being behind the weapon breathed out and in, his ventilation mask unable to successfully strip that away. He carried the cannon blaster like he’d been born with it. But his stance bordered on sloppy, all relaxed arms and legs too casual to be in attack mode.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “You want my telemonitor’s IP address?” I gave him a grin I used to calm potential clients. “As to anything else, well, you can’t have it.”

  “I can take it,” he leered.

  “You can try.”

  With sternness riding through me, I stared at that visor, daring him to carry through the bluff.

  Yeah, I was many things, but a blabbermouth wasn’t one of them.

  I didn’t squeeze my eyes shut, but every muscle tensed for the oncoming cannon blast.

  It didn’t come.

  I didn’t really think it would.

  “What are you doing here?” he repeated. With a hard thrust the barrel came closer to my face. “Tell me! Now!”

  “Threatening and yelling. Yeah, that’ll get you what you want,” I said, relishing the cool calm that washed over me. With coldness came resolve.

  Stubbornness, thy name is Cybil.

  “You’re an intruder.” The ventilation mask stripped away all his humanity. “Whose side? The District’s dogs? Or just a scavenger?”

  I stayed quiet. Nothing I said right now was going to move the cannon blaster.

  How the hell did I get here?

  Two words. Benjamin Satou.

  “Hands up,” the soldier ordered.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not looking for a fight. I just got lost.”

  “Lost? You wandered into the army EuroRepublic’s barracks? During a war?”

  “Yes,” I said, the lie hardly making me breathe hard. “I got lost coming from that bar down the street.”

  “Yeah,” the soldier snorted.

  It could’ve been a laugh.

  I took in a deep breath and kept my hands down.

  I’d been creeping along the back pockets of the base to a designated rendezvous spot.

  Instead of finding my contact, I had walked into the gloved fist of this soldier.

  “I said hands up,” the soldier barked, gesturing with the cannon blaster. “You going straight to the tanks.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m allergic to flotation gel.”

  “What?”

  “Hell, no,” I said with emphasis. “Drop it. Listen, I’m looking for someone. Nothing more. Keep this up and we’re going to have major issues. The kind that’ll send you rotting in the pits.”

  Silence. Was he studying me? Checking out my figure?

  Wham!

  I stood up, my chest on fire where the soldier’s boot had slammed into my chest. Scrambling around, I fought to focus.
Someone had outted me. I doubted my contact waited, if the person existed at all. Once you paid folks and things got rough, they ran. The problem with paid snitches is they’re all violators of the District’s regulations. So if they ripped you off, you couldn’t report them.

  I should’ve known better as the entire affair had become suspect.

  I ducked and bobbed, the soldier’s punches whisking by. Why he didn’t just shoot me, I wondered, but maybe he didn’t want to raise the alarm by actually firing. I shot out a round-house kick and sent the assailant windmilling into one of the rooters parked nearby. The huge moon-buggy rolled to its side from the impact. The glowing amber circle above the infirmary declared healing occurred there, but I wasn’t seeking a physical remedy, only information. The clatter didn’t seem to cause anyone to run out of the bubbledome-shaped infirmary.

  He came at me again, clumsily slow, his stance askew. Probably dazed and winded by my roundhouse. Or drunk. It surprised me he’d even been able to stand after the solid hit. I needed to get back to the gym.

  “Argh! You fight like a woman!”

  I waved him forward with my fist. “Shut up and bring it.”

  The soldier came at me, all arms and legs flying. Who trained these guys?

  Pivoting sideways, I dodged the assailant. When he blew past, he turned and came at me again. Huffing like a worn-out buggy, he charged me. This time I dipped to the left, his right punch coming much too slow. Without waiting, I threw a left and it plowed right into the guy’s jaw. An umph! punctured the air.

  He fell to the dust again, skidding to a stop against the rear wall of one of the barracks, holding his jaw.

  The soldier shoved himself off the ground and inched into the light.

  He lifted the visor. A face far too soft and feminine to be male came into view. As the helmet lifted, thick cords of dreadlocked hair whoosed down to those shoulders far too thin to be male now that I gave it my full attention.

  The perpetual dark floating along the edges of the night held many surprises. I considered myself officially surprised. Find Jane, I’d been told. Silly me. I figured that to be some cryptic code word. Using the dark sections, the spotlights failed to illuminate, I stepped back into the shadows.

  She removed the ventilation mask.

  “All right, I guess you’re safe enough to talk to.”

  “A woman,” I whispered.

  “I get that a lot up here,” she said with a smirk.

  She removed a cigarette from behind her ear. Soon, a crimson flicker lit up the shadows of her face. Pillow plump lips curved around the cigarette and she smoked liked she’d been doing it for far too long.

  “Sharp hearing,” I said, recalling how she ambushed me.

  She sucked the sliver of rolled tobacco before saying, “Heard you several blocks back,” the husk of her voice skipping through the smoke rings.

  Yeah, sure.

  “Name’s Jane,” she coughed, sniffed, and extended her hand. She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a hoarse whisper.

  “Cybil.”

  We shook.

  “Moto’s crazy, but she saved my bacon a bunch of times up here. She said you’re good, so I owe her which means I pay you,” Jane explained with a shrug. “The woman you lookin’ for was here, two days ago. Maybe three. Days blend. Anyway, our twilight sweep picked her up with a bunch of other strays littering the outside crevices of the bubble biomes.”

  Manufactured time screws up your biological clock and being off the planet does something funny to your mind and your body.

  Beneath the bubble-shaped biomes were plants, pools of water, and soldiers probably pitched tents and other outdoor activities. The moon’s harsh, infertile surface wouldn’t be able to create the resources needed without help from the bubbles. They’re carefully crafted Earths in little handheld bubbles that expand until they’re the size of stadiums.

  “So, what else you wanna know?” Jane puffed out a nice series of smoke rings.

  I liked her. She had personality and although her fighting technique needed some work, she’d been a trooper by agreeing to tell me what she knew. Moto’s a crazy partying chick from the district’s E801 Quadrant and she did owe me.

  “Where’d she go from here?”

  “She was processed and sent on to Martians knows where,” Jane said and took a drag. A long stream of blue-white smoke sailed through the air.

  “I don’t get why she came here...to this base.”

  Jane shrugged. Green eyes squinted against the smoke. Her flawless ebony skin hadn’t been eroded by time but had been worn by cynicism.

  A kindred spirit.

  “We’re in a war. People need aid, healin’ and helpin’, Cybil. She could’ve come for that. Bleedin’ hearts rocket their narrow asses up here and try to bring some humanity to the humans all the time.”

  Sad. Those on Earth didn’t realize the soldiers, generals, and doctors were all a bunch of people following orders.

  “So, yeah she met up with that crowd,” Jane said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Right.”

  Our eyes met and we burst into laughter. She was too young to be this jaded.

  “Look, thanks,” I replied, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’ve got to find her. I’ll push on to the pits.”

  Jane shook her head. “Aye, words of wisdom.”

  “From a teenager?” I quipped. “I’m gonna pass.”

  Jane’s face hardened, becoming stone serious.

  “You got that look, the edge, like your feelins’ been blunted by the dull daily blade of war. That’s what my general calls it when he looks at me. So, turn on your freakin’ instincts. There are so many dead dozens that we’re using open cargo trucks as mass gravesites. The pits are crawlin’ with body snatchers, raiders, and the freakin’ hungry. Stay in the light. Though that alone won’t save you.”

  I nodded. The pits contained bodies the warring military decided not to incinerate. Mostly civilians and the occasional defected soldiers. Moon craters had better purposes, but until the fighting ended, well, mass graves it was. Raiders looted the deceased for currency, jewelry, and weapons. The body snatchers came for experiments and black-market transplant organs.

  “I got it covered,” I said. “Been here before. Been doing this a while.”

  “Uh huh,” Jane replied, glancing toward the rumble of a crater crawler.

  The vehicle sounded close. I needed to get gone.

  Jane gave me a solemn nod and stepped off toward the rumbling roar’s direction.

  “Try not to die,” she said.

  Two

  The gathering gloom infiltrated every nook of the EuroRepublic’s moon base. For a decade several territories and the EuroRepublic battled it out for ownership of the extremely limited resources and land the moon offered. Regardless of how much blood was shed, no one won. Just clear losers all around.

  I moved toward the pits with my heart heavy and my ears buzzing.

  As I stepped along the gloomy infested back streets of the EuroRepublic’s barracks, I thought about Benjamin’s visit.

  Attempting to put his best face forward and to grab hold of the steeliness that soldiers must possess, Benjamin Satou looked me directly in the eye as he sat in my office. Oily, raven-black bangs didn’t keep his despair from showing. Scars from flying debris or laser gun fire, and a long, thick disfigurement etched along his left jaw spoke to the light touches of war and his involvement in it.

  For him war wasn’t pretty - literally.

  “My wife is missing.”

  “How long?”

  “Two weeks, give or take,” he answered, short and to the point, the military conditioning taking over to shield and buffer whatever emotional turmoil whirled inside him. “I arrived home from the launcher at approximately 0700. Upon entering my residence, I found it empty. My wife’s belongings and clothing all appeared to be in order. The only thing missing is Char. Our wind automobile remained in its hanger.”

  A queer
tic, a sneering lip, cropped up after each statement, like an old typewriter or blinking cursor for a software program.

  “The wauto hadn’t been flown? Last coordinates checked?” I asked, frowning a bit as the tick clicked again.

  “I checked the autopilot’s logs. The last coordinates visited were the grocery store.”

  “Any signs she’d simply left of her own free will?” I asked, my hand gripping my gun tighter. A touchy question might snap one of his taut nerves.

  That question received a scowl so severe I thought his face would fracture.

  Jerky motion and unnatural turns, facial tics that ran surprisingly in sync gave me pause initially, but he’d been referred by a friend.

  “Please continue,” I said, wanting to keep the flow of information going now he’d decided to share.

  “I, I thought Regulator Tom told you all this?” A sharp hint of frustration made his words tight.

  “He told me some things,” I fingered my laser gun 300’s barrel. It rested happy and content against my thigh. “Other things I don’t know. The point is I need to hear everything from you.”

  And he told me.

  Glittering fireworks set off in the north, and I for one was glad to be heading south. I passed gates and high-level security compounds in various biomes, but no personnel.

  “Must be good to be on terra firma,” I said to Benjamin as he sat in my office.

  I tried to put him at ease. His muscles flinched on their own accord and he frequently hopped up from the chair and paced the length of my private office. Perhaps he missed being told what to do.

  He’d only been back from the moon colony wars for a matter of weeks. Not near enough time to decompress or adapt to civilian life again. No doubt he awoke most nights drenched in sweat and screeching in despair. The echo of violence still rang loud and raw in his psyche. Who knew what those screams and cries and carvings spoke to him during the lush and lunatic landscape of dreams?

  Darn it. Once a soldier always a soldier.