COMPANY OF ADVENTURERS
Roses

The spaceport on Brightside Moon was crowded with small transport ships

“I’ve spotted Big Vern, Manny Panny. Venom, and Darlin Child so far,” said Rand. “And that ’s just on the bridge screen. Half the Independent Traders must be here.”

Dita nodded. “Festival of Love is the big sales season for Brightside. Ever one of em is here to pick up flowers for the Centre Worlds.”

“Is Pretty Baby in port?” asked Mamie.” I owe Sou-Fen the baby stuff she loaned me for BabyGirl.”

“She knocked up again? How many will that be?”

“Countin Lazlo? Six or mebbee seven. They don’t even have room to take passengers anymore an Sou-Fen was not happy about the money.′

“If you see em buy some of her pies, will ya, honey?” Rand asked Mamie. “That rhubarb would be great or the blackberry.”

His wife giggled, “You’ll get fat. Good thing I grabbed you before you tasted her pie.”

Rand murmured something in her ear and she giggled some more and patted his bum.

Marco called them for breakfast. He had already served the children, Hope, Derry and BG, their porridge and syrup and had put the pot on the galley table for the others.

“Anyone shoppin today?” asked Marco. “We need eggs, milk and bread flour.”

“I’m gonna check out the junkyard situation,” said Mamie. “Then visit Pretty Baby if she’s on world.”

“Can we come, mummy?” seven year old Derry pled.

“I guess,” she replied.

“I’ll come along and bring Beege,” Dita’s daughter added. “She’s not seen sunshine in bout a month.”

“Thanks, Hope,” said Mamie. “We’ll bring the cargo bike.”

After breakfast, Rand, Dita and Marco headed out to the Rose Market to arrange a cargo. Rand was feeling confident because he had coin in his pocket, enough coin that they all were armed, the men

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with pistols and Dita with her machetes.

Purchased cargo would be cheaper than consigned, if more risky, and he alread had a buyer lined up on Third Rock the largest settled planet and the prosperous seat of government and industry.

The Market was buzzing. The three split up to source the best deals, comming snaps back and forth as they checked out prices and quantities.

The buzz was not only about flowers though. The mayor of Peace, one of the largest producers of long stem roses, had been found dead that morning, bound in long thorny rose branches.

“Murder!” exclaimed Marco. “Do they know who done it?”

“The police think it might be spaacers.” the gossiping merchant said quietly.

“Why?”

“He waas real populaire for a politiciaan.” the merchant explained. “Elected tree times on a plaatform of bettaire prices for the growaires. Some of the buyers din like thaat.”

“Nobody likes payin above the odds.” Marco said.

“But if the growaires don maake a living, they lose their faarms , everything.”

“Should be enough for everyone, prices you guys are chargin.”

“And whaat do you chaarge on Third Rock or Quaattro?”

“Fair enough,” Marco grinned. “But fuel cells ain’t free, even refurbished.”

“I hope you find my prices fair,” the merchant smiled, turning the conversation back to business.

Marco looked at his comm. Each of the others had found the coveted red and pink blooms but at considerably higher prices. The merchant had large yellow roses with pink tinged petals, less popular but preferred when the object was to regain lost affection or to apologize for misdeeds. He decided to take a chance getting a substantial discount from asking for delivery of the merchant’s entire stock coin in hand at Bluebell’s cargo bay.

Dita was doubtful about his buy, but Rand was happy to have something a little different for the Third Rock buyer.

“He didn’t specify and they’s still a market.”

“Better be a lot of stalkers and mockers.” Dita frowned. “That’s a lot of real money out on rotting petals if we can’t push it.”

They were to take delivery that afternoon and leave immediately. If they could move fast they would catch the early market on Third Rock.

And they did, managing the return voyage in three days. Rand counted the piles of Alliance bills. “Looks like everyone is getting paid this month, and back pay too.”

Marco took his stack of bills and divided it neatly in half. “I gotta send this to Ma. She’s got two mouths to feed again.”

The Market was in a frenzy of activity and prices had risen twofold as the Festival of Love approached. The merchant Marco had spoken to had closed his own sold out booth and was working at a growers’ cooperative with smiling round-faced woman.

He hailed Marco as he passed and the three come over to inspect his flowers.

“Speciaal good prices for repeat customers, paals.” he grinned. “Mimsy here will help you choose! Or maaybe everything aagain?” he asked hopefully.

Although his new booth had a fresh and highly scented stock, it was near the back of the market, a much poorer location than his previous one.

“Baad trouble for us, paal.” the merchant murmured, “Our mayor got kilt, right? Aand the

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Maarket is maanaaged by Twanzana Mugalala. She waants to buy us aall out. Break us even.′

“What does that have to do with the murder of the mayor?” Dita asked sharply.

The merchant shrugged. “Prolly nuthin. Prolly.” he looked around. “That Mma Mugalala she got a lottaa friends, eh? High paals.”

He looked up sharply as a pair of muscular young men in black Security uniforms swaggered by. The flower merchant busied himself with his stock, though Mimsy simpered at the men.

The shorter thug grinned back at her, but the other glared at the group in the booth.

“Not much to show these folks,” the thug growled.”You should go see Mma Mugalala’s stuff.”

Rand said,”We’re pert happy with our deal here, thanks, son.” He put his hands on the gunbelt he habitually wore dirtside.

The thugs were not armed, except for stout steel truncheons hung at their waists. They sneered and moved on.

The merchant hissed furiously at Mimsy. who retreated to a chair at the back of the cooperative’s booth.where she could sulk.

Rand haggled a good cash price for the cooperative’s blooms, paid on delivery to Bluebell.

They left the merchant and his helper packaging the roses for interplanetary shipment and found a bistro which served beer, even this early, to the flower merchants and their thirsty customers.

Rand spotted Butters Margolin, who had hired Mamie’s friend Sou-Fen as cook on his ship Pretty Baby some years before. They joined him and spent a few minutes congratulating him on her latest pregnancy.

“You see why I married so late?” Butters grinned. “I barely have to look at her and she’s knocked up again.”

“Hate to break it to you , hun,” smiled Dita, “But it’s not the lookin that works.”

The conversation turned to their purchases and to the higher prices as the Festival of Love approached. “We allus hafta pay more as it gets near,” said Monty. “Seems this year is special high though.”

Marco passed on the name of the cooperative they had been dealing with.

“They already got lower askin prices and they can be haggled,” he told Butters.

“It’s that Muglala,” said Butters, “She’s pushin her own prices low . The small farmers and co-ops either get broken or end with stale wilted stock.”

“So okay, she gets more sales, but she don’t make nuthin.′ said Marco.

“She ’s got a long game.” said Rand. “Our guy back there said she’s been buyin out them little guys.”

“The co-ops can stand up to her,” said Butters. “But their farms are spread out some. There’ve been some crop fires, even in this weather.”

They looked at the overcast sky. They had not seen rain, but there were heavy dews at this season.

“There’s talk.” Butters continued. “That guy, the mayor that got kilt. He was tryin to put a ceilin on how much land a single owner could have. And he had already innerduced a personal income tax over 500 K annual.′

“The coops must make that,” Marco said.

“But co-ops ain’t personal. They share some expenses and split the profit,” Dita told him. “Couldn’t Maglala incorporate herself?”

“Corporations are Central Planet controlled and Central Planet taxed.” Butters told her. “She does that, Central Revenue notices her. And if she’s behind the burning and... other stuff they’d have Interpol here right quick.”

Roses/3

They finished their beers in companionable silence before Butters and Rand left together for Pretty Baby where as Mamie had thought, Sou-fen had been baking pies.

Marco set off for the Post Office on his own, planning to send money to his mother on Muir Moon.

He was in a good mood and hoped to make it better but when he paused outside the Sweet Sally, he realized he wouldn’t have enough coin on him after sending money home for anything he couldn’t do for himself and started off again. He decided instead to have a few beers then return in time for supper. Mamie was still making her Inter-Engine brew, but she had never mastered beer, and Brigtside produced some fine ales and lagers.

The postal clerk had given him directions to a favourite spot. On the way he was stopped by two cops were showing all pedestrians a wanted poster but he soon found the tavern, fancier than his usual choices. The bar had a small forecourt with tables for watching the passing crowd, which was roofed with sweet smelling hops , a nod to its name, The Hopvine.

Ordering his second ale, he stretched out in the afternoon sun. His ma taken care of, money in his pocket, beer in front of him. All he needed now was some female company. He slid his hand into his pants. As if he had rubbed Aladdin’s lamp, Mimsy, the round faced woman from the Rose Market, appeared.

“May I sit here?” she asked.

Marco looked around. All the other tables were empty. “Sure,” he grinned. “Looking fer company?”

The girl looked at him simpering, her straight scarlet hair glowing in the sunshine.

“I don’t like to be alone,” she said.

“Well, yer welcome to sit. Wanna drink?”

“Sure. Cider?”

They chatted a bit. Marco thought she was a bit dim, but wove her some stories of his supposed adventures as a mercenary. Marco finished his glass.

“If yer feelin the urge, you should say somethin, cause I was thinking of finding some.”

“Me too.”

“Well, you gotta place? My boat don’t leave me much privacy.”

“Yes.”

Marco left a few coins on the table for the server and followed her. At the corner, he put his arm around her and sniffed her hair. The girl did not react to his touch, which was disappointing. Most women, Marco found, liked his touch or at least pretended to. Her coolness was… interesting.

The girl took him from the busy shopping street to a much quieter residential area only two blocks away.

“Here,” she said.

Marco saw a small house in the Brightside style of stucco imitating adobe, with a Japanese sand garden out front walled by a very high thick rose hedge. Once through the solid gate, almost a door, the slight traffic noise disappeared.

It was a very private place. Marco took advantage and ran his hands over the girl’s slender frame. Tiny breasts, barely more than a curve beneath a hard nipple and almost flat buttocks, very firm. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her blouse and into her thin cotton trousers. She was definitely ready to show him a good time.

“You live here alone, girlie?”

She shrugged.

Roses/4

“Let’s go in then, you’re near as hot as I am.”

“Yes. Let’s do this.”

Down the the central hall of the house to a small room with iron bed and a sink/commode like those on Bluebell.

Marco pulled the girls top off exposing her bare breasts. She pulled away then undid his belt and removed his pants. Marco took off his shirt, his boxers tenting. He grasped her at her waist and sat back on the bed.

She slid her hand down his arms then pushed him back. Some how his hands were above his head as she moved across his body. And somehow he was tied to the bedstead. He grinned. “Well, not what I usually go for, girlie, but do your worst. Kin I get a blowjob? Or d’you go straight to the ruttin?’

“No. Now you talk to my boyfriend.”

Marco struggled to loosen the bindings but only shook the bedstead.

The girl laughed, then left the room.

Marco heard a lock snick shut.

“Hey,” he yelled. “Hey! Come back here!”

“Where’s Marco?” asked Rand, depositing three pies on the galley counter.

Mamie was putting supper on the table, freshly baked curried chicken buns, stirfried celery and red peppers. Pie would be a perfect dessert.

Beege was toddling around the dining area putting various dolls on the chairs, considering them and then re-arranging.

Derry and Emma were in the commons finishing up a mathematics lesson with Dita. The crew slowly assembled, drawn by the sweet scent of the buns.

“Where’s Marco?’ asked Mamie, serving the children. “Ain’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He went to send his ma some money,’ said Dita. After leaving Butters, Dita and Hope had been shopping in town for new clothes. “I saw him leaving the Third Rock Planetary about an hour after that. At least I saw his hat. I don’t suppose there is another like it.”

Derry had met up with a gang of other spacer kids and they had been wandering the Market and spaceport all morning, enjoying the feel of gravity and the thin sunlight from the overcast sky.

“I saw him near the Market building talking to some policers,” he said

His parents exchanged looks. “What was they doin?” his father asked.

“Dunno. One of the policers had a flimsy he was lookin at.”

“Might’ve got hisself arrested.” said Dita. “I’ll go bail him”

“Huh, Yeah. No.” said Rand. “I’ll go. If worse comes to worst, you can fly Mamie and the kids outta here and she can keep you movin.”

“That bad?” asked Dita quiet.

“Looks like there a revolution or coup d’etat or somethin goin on here. If Marco got mixed up somehow....”

“Politics is bad news.” said Mamie.

There was a police station near the Rose Market but the officer in charge denied having a Marco Majumdar in the cells.

“Early in the daay for drunks,” she remarked with a jolly smile.

“Might have been political,” admitted Rand.

“Oooh, not good, these daays,” she replied. “Those don’t come here. We’re in and out. Sober’em up and send baack to ship or faarm. The odd one goes to the hospitaal aafter a fight or for aalochol poisoning. You can look if you waant.” She pondered. “One of Mma Magalala’s boy caaame in for a

Roses/5

pee break. Left his paal in their caar. They might could have haad a prisoner.”

“Possible. Where do those go?”

She shook her head. ’Friend or lover?”

Rand replied, “He’s crew.”

“Replace him and move on,” said the officer She shook her head. “You won’t see him aagain.”

Nevertheless, she told Rand the location of Muglala’s compound. “Dont go alone.” she warned. “Bring a laawyer. And probaably a gun.”

Marco, still tied to the bed, was extremely uncomfortable. No one had returned to free him and his bladder was desperate. He was also hungry and his arm, held above his head for hours, were painful.

Then his comm pinged. He was sure only Bluebell would be calling him. He swung his legs of the edge of the bed and haul himself upright, pulling the bedstead and mattress upright with him. His comm was in his pants pocket, just beyond his reach. He pulled the bed over and reached for his pants with his foot. The pinging stopped. Marco swore. He managed with his foot to get the comm out of the pocket. He pressed the GPS button hoping the building was not location proofed.

The crash of the bed falling over drew attention. The door swung open and two men looked in. They were in uniforms like Mugalala’s thugs at the Rose Market..

They pulled out the paper the crew had bought on .Decimal, and demanded his chip.

“Aint got one,” Marco told them. “It ain’t required, just more efficient for you guys.”

“So you’re Jerome Cauley?” the taller cop asked.

“Is that what it says?” Marco replied angrily. “Look fellas I just wanna get back to my ship, have a quiet wank since I can’t afford the ladies at Sally’s. Maybe a few beer before lunch. Then I get a hot chance with that bitch who tied me here.”

“You can forget the beers and the wank, Cauley.” the taller cop said “You’re detained. ”

“Detained?” said Marco. “For what? I ain’t had a damn chance to do any sinnin’ since I got here!”

“For questioning in the mysterious death of Mayor Littlefield last week.”

“Who? I ain’t kilt nobody!”

“You can talk to us, Cauley. ” He waved a flimsy which Marco was shocked to see had a snap of him. Or someone who looked a lot like him.

“You can’t get free,” the dark one said. “Tell us about the mayor.”

“Don’t know any mayor,” Jayne said.

The dark man stared at him. “You do. You know all about his murder. Who hired you to kill him?.”

“I ain’t kilt nobody! I ain’t ever been on this shithole world more’n a few hours.”

“You told Mimsy you were a mercenary.”

“The girl? Hey buddy, I was just trying to get laid. You know, say anything to get em nekkid.”

“Mma Mugalala won’t be happy that you won’t tell us what you know.”

“Gimme a break, buddy. Was chasin some tail and ended up tied to her bed. If it is hers. I gotta piss, I’m hungry and I am righteous angried.”

The men exchanged looks. The taller man reached in his pocket and withdrew a small rod, but the dark one put out his hand and the rod went back.

“Think about what you will be telling us,” he said and they left the room.

“Hey! I still gotta piss!” Marco yelled after them.

He considered his options. His hands were tied to the bedstead and both bed and mattress half covered him. He couldn’t reach his comm with his hands, could barely reach it with his toes. And his

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bladder was like to burst.

“Fuck it,” he said. He wriggled to get into the best position, slightly out of his boxers and urinated on the floor. The stream ran away from him and from his pile of clothes across the slight angle of the floor and under the door. Marco gave a sigh of relief. “Serves em right,’ he grunted.

Rand returned to Bluebell with the grim news. “Whatever he’s been taken for, it ain’t somethin we can bail him.′

Dita said, “Lets take a look at that compound.”

The crew mustered in the galley. “If someone took Marco they must have a power of muscle. Best we bring our own.”

Mamie was spelled off to watch the kids and keep Bluebell secure. If necessary, Emma could take the ship into orbit.

In her black catsuit, carrying a machete, Dita looked glamorous and dangerous. Rand was armed with a shotgun and a pistol in his gunbelt Both wore their new neographene vests.

Once again they set out taking the landcar They were surprised to find the compound was not a fenced area, but unobtrusive houses, mostly bungalows, all in the same city block. Some of the houses had security grilles on windows and doors but no guards were obvious.

Dita spoke quietly. “Lotta cameras around.”

Rand grunted in agreement. Dita drove around the block while Rand surreptitiously took snaps on his comm. They drove a few blocks further to a leafy park.

Reviewing the snaps on their comms, they decided the houses with the barred windows were the most likely to hold Marco. There were three of those though. “Could be in any one.”

“Or none at all”

“This one has a sign on the door.” said Rand enlarging the snap. “Receiving. That would get a lot of traffic, Not good to keep a prisoner.”

“And Marco’s gonna be loud.,” grinned Dita.

“So...”

“So let’s just take a chance. That one with all the roses.”

“Because it’s prettier?”

“Because roses got thorns. Defence . Unexpected defence.”

“Is there a plan, Rand?’

“Get Marco out. Preferably alive and without any wounded.”

Dita consulted her comm. “Ain’t too much to be seen on the street view. The property seems to go back to the next street. There’s a building there - a storage shed or garage or workshop?’

“Okay. You go to the back. I’ll take the front. ’

“We bustin in? Or knocking politely?’

“Don’t seem likely a polite enquiry would work. Sides I’m right out of calling cards for the butler.”

“Bustin in it is , then.”

They parked the landcar a block from the cottage. Dita circled to the back of the house.

Rand and Dita checked her snaps on their comms. “Looks like the back building is a garage,. Can you slip around to it?” he asked on the comm.

Dita replied, ’There’s a space between the building and the fence. Narrow, might be hard to leave in a a hurry. Passable though.”

“Go slip into the yard. Let me know if you see any security.”

Rand strolled up to the front door. His shotgun blew the lock out of the front door.

“Huh, you’d think it would be steel not bamboo,” remarked Rand, dashing inside.

“Marco!” he yelled and shot out a light fixture in the centre hall. There was an answering yell from the back of the house.

Dita entered more cautiously from the back, checking doors as she went. The house was very neat and clean, but there was a stink of urine that was out of place. She opened a door, grimacing at the nasty smell.

“Hey, Marco,” she said. “Got any clothes?”

The reply was unintelligible but Dita grinned. She signalled Rand to hold and stepped into the room gingerly, machete at the ready. Deftly she cut Marco’s bonds. “Wouldn’t’a thought this was your thing, Marco,” she remarked.

There was more cursing as Marco pulled his arms back to his sides. He gasped as he tried to shake some feeling into them. He was more successful in staggering to his feet.. “Cain’t do nuthin with my hands yet,” he explained. Dita bundled up his clothes, shoes, and weapons into his shirt and hung them from his arms with the sleeves as a handle.There were voices in the hallway.

Rand started forward, pistol in hand. From the kitchen just behind him, two men stepped out. The dark one placed a hand on Rand’s shoulders.

Dita moving with swift decision, pulled her machete and decapitated the man.

Rand lunged forward, freeing himself momentarily as the other man reached for the small weapon in his pocket, Rand fired, hitting him in the shoulder.

Rand stepped over them “Marco able to walk?” Dita nodded.

The three, Marco stumbling a little, tore out of the cottage and piled into the car. As they reached the corner the sound of sirens could be heard.

“Neighbours called in the law,” said Marco. “Wish they’d done it earlier.”

“We made a lot of noise,” said Dita. “Probably broke a few bylaws about quiet enjoyment.”

“You still got it , Aphrodite,” said Rand.

“Wish I didn’t need to,” she said despondently. “These border words... lawless means dangerous, even for outlaws like us.”

“Outlaws? Wonder if anyone’s still lookin for us. After all this time?”

“For what we was involved in? Damn right they are.”

“Suppose. An Mamie couldn’t keep Bluebell goin.”

“Hell your child bride don’t remember to feed her kid half the time.”

“She’s a good mother!”

“She’s a good mechanic, .and you like having a horny little bint in your bed, and the galley and the commons and the shower. And...”

“Not the galley.”

“Huh, you’re lucky there ain’t much law out here or they’d be after you for corruptin a minor.”

“She come after me! I just wanted a decent engineer on my boat. And her daddy let us marry. ”

“If she was sixteen when she birthed Derry, I’d be surprised. More like fifteen and just barely that.”

“Why are you bringin all this up now?”

“Cause I’m tired and I hate killin people. Mamie’s good at her job, I’ll grant her that. I just want a peaceful life with my girl. Past is past.”

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