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 Sisters of the Wind (Book Excerpt)by Diana Kemp-Jones The Alternate Universe of Diana Kemp-Jones Page 2 of 5 Reaching for a nearby console, Ekkoe primed the squelcher, her stocky fingers expertly manipulating the security sequence. "No point in letting Delahl in on this conversation. You know he's strictly a company man. He believes in the cause. You should watch what you say around him. There's an old Earth saying about loose lips..." "Delahl's nothing more than a company puppet," interrupted Seladon. "A faithful and obedient dog. He's not likely to risk his hide stirring any trouble that might come back to haunt him. The recruitment halls were full of die-hard jocks like him." "He likes to think he's come a long way, Seladon. And that he has a future with the Service. He fits the recruiter's checklist in every sense." "Then let him dream. You know Delahl's background was no better than mine, only instead of escaping a North African ghetto, he emerged from a squalid Amazon West settlement. He wanted to get off Earth any way he could. Similar circumstances, different geography. That's all." "Fine, so he lacks social graces. But the job pays well, you get to travel, see the galaxy..." Seladon gestured impatiently. "What is it with you Jovian settlers? You establish an elite colony on the major moons, genetically alter yourselves into perennially cheerful hermaphrodites, control half the trade routes in four major sectors..." Ekkoe clamped her hands over her ears. "Stop, I can't take all this adulation!" "Why are you here?" said Seladon, her brow knit in a frown. "Your type doesn't belong in the Special Service. Most recruits come from impoverished Earth, not wealthy outer system communities. You had the connections and qualifications to join the highest corporate levels of your choice. Surely you would have been happier running a..." A tone interrupted them as Delahl stepped from a nearby tubelift. Unlike Seladon, his third world origins were not evident in his athletic, sandy good looks that rendered him years younger than his actual age of thirty-nine. Only the scars of the Arroyo leach marred his appearance, the exorbitantly priced cosmetic remedy tantalizing closer with each payoff. "Great kill, eh?" said the engineer with an ingratiating grin. "Watched it below. Those adjustments I made on stinger telemetry really improves their targeting. No wastage at all this time." Seladon flinched at the terminology. "Have you calibrated these adjustments to the onboard guidance system?" said Ekkoe. "Of course," said Delahl. "Surely you don't think I'd make any cowboy modifications?" He absently fingered a grayish, puckered oval on his forearm. Several more scars marred the exposed flesh of his muscular arms. "Not when I'm a couple of jobs away from getting rid of these bastards." "You're always fretting about your appearance," said Seladon. "What are a few scars compared to what we've seen on Earth? A Gobi fever victim would happily trade places with you." Delahl's expression soured. "That's easy for you to say. With your dangerous looks, nobody's going to care that your ancestors rode camels or fished from pellucas. It's always been easier for a woman. Always will be, especially for the lookers. For a man, roots in the rainforest are a ticket to oblivion. Well, that's going to change." Seladon bolted from her seat, sloe eyes flashing. "You think I got this far by wiggling my ass?" she cried, advancing on Delahl. "What do you know about it? I clawed my own way out of a third world hellhole to get into the Service. I didn't even have to sleep with anyone. I just used my brains. They got me through the exams and straight into a prowler command. Better yet, brains won't sag with age like the attributes you're so damned fond of. So you'd better think twice before mouthing off about how tough you had it..." "Okay, so you're more noble than the rest of us plebs," said Delahl. "But I guess it doesn't run in the family from what I've heard about your sister." Ekkoe grabbed Seladon as she lunged for Delahl's throat. He stumbled back, flushed and angry. "Enough!" cried Ekkoe, her hefty arms easily pinioning Seladon. "Would you two mind telling me how you slipped through the psychprobes during the preliminary recruitment interviews? I sure as hell can't figure out how they missed all this hostility. Not exactly a boost for shipboard morale, after all!" Delahl stalked off in disgust. "Let me know when you've figured it out," he muttered. "I've got better things to do than listen to this shit." "We'll settle it now, Delahl," said Ekkoe, her voice tinged with rare sternness. Delahl hesitated, intimidated by the Jovian's formidable stance. "Listen to yourselves! You're like brats squabbling on the playground. This antagonism has gone on long enough. What do you think's going to happen if the Service finds out?" Copyright© 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002 Diana Kemp-Jones, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. |
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