Dakoda's Revenge Page 7

  "We should have stopped Odessa,” Brody replied lamely, aiming a glare at Jason to dissuade him from saying that a starship captain had kidnapped her for his harem—the theory he had heard every day for the last three months. He straightened his shoulders and stood at an impressive six feet—a good eight inches taller than his uncle. Why hadn't he noticed before this that his uncle had shrunk? Where had the time gone?

  "She ran off with that redneck.” Uncle Peter nodded. “Thought so, a while back. Some fool notion of taking apples into outer space to sell to some foreign ape aliens. Aliens don't eat apples.” He drew his red flannel shirt closer, even though it was a sultry June evening.

  The man was as ancient as the moon, but no one would ever have known from the way he moved with a sprightly step. He moved faster than some of Brody and Jason's thirty-something generation did.

  Jason shot him a look that said ‘I told you so.’ Brody lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “Then why didn't you tell us before this?"

  Uncle Peter snapped the black elastic of the suspenders holding up his faded blue jeans. “Now, why would I do something stupid like that?"

  "To enlighten us?” Maybe his uncle was getting forgetful. Brody tossed the idea aside instantly. His uncle was as sharp as he had always been. He'd raised two adventurous boys and a precocious girl on his own, hadn't he?

  "Son, when you get to my age, you'll know everything, but you won't be able to do one thing."

  Brody watched Jason grimace. It was time for one of his uncle's pearls of wisdom.

  "You won't be able to tell a fool, he's a fool."

  "Sounds like commonsense to me."

  Jason's face clouded over. Was he getting peeved at the old man for calling them fools?

  Before Brody could tell him to cool off, Uncle Peter stepped in. “If I had told you your sister ran off with a redneck claiming to be a starship pilot, would you have believed me?"

  "That's what I've been telling him all along.” Jason waved a thumb at his twin.

  "How can you tell me anything?” Brody shot back. “He doesn't even believe man can go to the moon."

  "That's not what I said, son. Man doesn't belong on the moon. No business there when the green earth is his home. What's he doing up there with no air to breathe and gravity to anchor him down?” Uncle Peter slapped Jason's shoulder. “Gonna get me a beer and watch the rest of the funnies.” The fridge opened and closed, and off he went, beer can in hand.

  Jason frowned. “I don't get it. He doesn't believe in going to the moon, but he believes in that starship pilot."

  "I heard that!” Uncle Peter called out. “You're too young to get it."

  Brody grinned on seeing his twin's pinched features.

  "We're too young? Since when?” Jason asked.

  Brody burst out laughing. “Guess there's no telling a fool he's a fool, right?"

  "That still doesn't solve our problem. Where do we look now for Odessa? We don't have a starship, and neither do we have money to invest in one."

  "Seems like the stars are a good place to start. Do you remember the name of the space station that redneck raved about?"

  "Naw. Too foreign a name. And look at all those stars. Have you seen the night sky lately? There must be gazillions of them."

  "Mind-boggling."

  "The choices are limitless."

  "Want some apple pie with me?"

  "Got paper plates?"

  "Nope.” An innovative, but not unusual, idea struck him. “Why not just eat out of the pie plate? You on that side, me from the other."

  Jason gave him a thumbs up. Uncle Pete could bake an apple pie that could make your mouth water even before he got it out of the oven. As Brody pulled the pie plate from the fridge, he wondered where, exactly, Jason and he were going to start searching for their sister. “We have to learn about those stars. Like which ones starships travel to, and from which points on earth they leave. And also, try to remember the space station's name that Roland Baylon mentioned a few times. Maybe we can call one of those space agencies and see if we can book a flight or two."

  "To where and with what?"

  "Why not start with somewhere close? It can't be that expensive to start asking if anyone saw a girl board a starship.” Brody shoved the pie plate in the center of the table and started eating from the nearest side. Damned good pie.

  "But that means we have to leave the orchards and Uncle Pete. How can we do that?"

  "Don't worry about me, son,” the old man called out from the living room. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it for eighty-some years, give or take a few days."

  "I thought you said he was hard of hearing,” Jason muttered, digging into the pie on his side.

  "I am when it comes to hearing stuff I don't care to hear. Want advice? Just watch for those girls in space. I heard they're supposed to be hot stuff."

  Brody winked at Jason. “Sure, Uncle. Thanks for the helpful tip,” he managed in a deadpan voice. In a whisper, he said to Jason, “Our kind of space. What you think?"

  "If they're hot, here I come!"

  His brother slapped him. “You forgot something."

  "What's that?” Jason asked with his mouth full.

  "The reason why we're traveling to the stars. To get Odessa."

  "There's nothing like mixing work with pleasure. No play and all work makes Brody boring."

  "I think we need a vacation. When was the last time we had one?"

  "Five years ago,” their uncle shouted. “No one ever asks me when was the last time I had one."

  The men looked suitably guilty. Brody spoke first. “Want a piece of apple pie?"

  "I want a vacation with Joanna Petrocheeni. On a lonely planet. Just me and her."

  "You mean the actress?” Jason called out. Softly, he asked Brody, “What's he going to do with her? She's slim, three times younger, and might already be secretly married."

  "The way those actors get married and divorced, you wonder how they stay married for more than six months."

  "I thought his hormones withered away,” Brody whispered.

  "Naw. It's only his body. Look at the way he's been chasing Mrs. Oglethorpe."

  The woman had to be more than seventy-five, going onto her second childhood, and habitually wore an eye-bruising, neon-pink bodysuit. Brody stuck his tongue out. “You never know, she might marry him and she'll clean up this mess."

  "Don't worry about her. ‘Sides, we can take care of ourselves, just like Uncle Peter.” Jason lifted the phone speaker to his ear. “Where shall we go, kemosabi?"

  "Before we go anywhere, can't we check with the flight stations if Odessa left on a particular ship?” Brody felt odd mentioning starships and flight stations that were far out of his normal frame of reference.

  "I don't know if the flight stations give that information to just anyone. If we have to buck the bureaucratic red tape, it might take years."

  "Might take years to get to that lonely planet with Joanna,” Uncle Peter volunteered.

  "What happened to Mrs. Oglethorpe?” Brody asked with a grimace. His uncle's choice of a girlfriend was nothing less than spectacularly uninhibited. The woman never stopped talking, even when she was eating. And she snorted her soda. She was grosser than Jason.

  "She's okay, but she doesn't have the fantastic boobs Joanna's got."

  "Yeah, I hear you,” Jason said. “A woman without great boobs, well, she ain't much to look at."

  "Son, you better get your mind out of the gutter and find Odessa, ‘cause I'm too old to be traipsing around the universe."

  "But we didn't say we're going anywhere.” Brody slapped his thigh and smiled. “But you would go if Joanna came along, right?"

  "In a heartbeat."

  "Why can he have his head in the gutter, but we can't?” Jason protested, getting to his feet and throwing the empty pie plate on the stack of leaning dishes. Aluminum clunked against china.

  "That's because you're too young,” the old man shouted back.<
br />
  Jason shrugged before he gave Brody a wink meant as a seal of approval. “Aren't we a chip off the old block?"

  "Okay. I guess I'll take the leap and call the galactic transportation agency.” He dialed. “They placed me on hold. This might take forever."

  "Good things happen to those who wait for them,” came from the old man.

  When Brody finally got a live person on the other end, they battled for several minutes.

  "So, you're telling me you can't tell me who got on what ship without authorization?"

  Brody listened as the non too-friendly voice explained: “I'm afraid, sir, you don't understand. I can't give that information out unless you're the FBI, CIA, or I have a judge's warrant."

  "But you can book flights to outer space?"

  "There are no public starships out to the star bases. If you're interested in traveling to any planet, you must contact one of the carriers, which are all privately owned and operated."

  Brody cupped his hand over the earpiece. “That will cost a fortune."

  "We don't have a fortune,” Jason whispered.

  Brody tried another tack. “So, how does a beautiful woman get on a starship?"

  "I beg your pardon, sir?"

  "Look. I have a problem. About three days ago, my sister took off with this redneck—"

  "You should just tell her that Odessa took off with a russet potato. That will work wonders,” Jason grumbled.

  "Will you shut up?” How was Brody supposed to get any information if his twin was whispering in one ear and the woman was talking in the other?

  "Sir, there's no need to be rude,” the woman said, her voice getting huffy.

  "I'm sorry, I wasn't talking to you. My brother is telling me what to tell you, and I can't listen to two conversations at the same time."

  "Perhaps you should hang up then."

  Real smartass, Brody thought.

  "What I need is information. Can I get a trip on a Winger to anywhere I want?"

  "Of course, sir. What's your destination and your starting point?"

  "My destination is a star, and my starting point is Wenatchee."

  "Which star, sir?” Now the clerk was somewhat more helpful.

  "I don't know. Pick the nearest one."

  "I'm not allowed to do that, sir."

  "Can you name a few?"

  She rattled off a few names that sounded like badly damaged items in a discount store.

  "The first one will do fine."

  "Sir, do you know the call letters for those ports?"

  Brody heard the sudden uncertainty, as if she'd misplaced her confidence. Did the woman know what she was doing and where she was about to send him? “I thought that was your job."

  "I'm sorry, sir. There's no such place as Wenatchee. My computer crashed a few minutes ago and is still giving me trouble."

  Jason's grin reached from ear to ear. “I told you that wouldn't work."

  "Son? You need help?” Uncle Peter walked in and glanced at the two boys.

  "No, sir,” Brody replied. “It's tough enough for a young person to get a ticket to anywhere he wants to go."

  The woman had obviously heard him. “How old are you, sir?"

  "I'm thirty-one and my brother, Jason here, is thirty-one too."

  "Are you single?"

  "At the moment."

  "Sir, I meant if that would be a single round-fare trip."

  "What do you mean ‘at the moment'?” Jason asked. “You've been single since Lucinda decided you were too much of a country hick for her fine tastes."

  "How long ago was that now?” Uncle Peter asked. “About four years? Too scared to go out and try again, huh?"

  "Uncle!” Brody protested. “Women aren't like chickens. You don't just mate them with any old rooster."

  Jason's eyes twinkled with amusement. “You got that right."

  His uncle raised his hand with his palm out in a stopping motion. “I don't need the riot act read to me, son. And what on God's green earth do roosters have to do with women?"

  "Sir? Are you still there?"

  "I'm still here, but now I'm getting crosswinded two ways. From my brother and my uncle."

  "How old is your uncle?” she asked.

  "Older than the moon, I think."

  "Watch your tongue, son. I'm eighty-eight and not a day older. Although my theory about halving my age works fine too. That makes me forty-four and not a day older."

  "Hey, your uncle sounds just like the kind of man I'm looking for,” the service representative said with a lilt to her voice. “Do you think you can put him on the speaker?"

  "Aren't you supposed to find guys on your time off?” Brody watched Jason's grin get impossibly wider. The twerp was having fun at his expense.

  "How am I supposed to meet guys cooped up all day in this tiny shack? I like older men. They're not fools, like the younger ones."

  Uncle Peter stuck out his hand. “Gimme that phone, son. Look like the pretty lady don't want to be bothered by the likes of you."

  Brody sighed. This just wasn't his day. The old man puffed out his chest as he took the phone, and even had the audacity to twang his suspenders.

  "Now, you're a pretty little lady,” he said in his Sunday-best voice. “Would you like to have dinner on me tomorrow night?"

  He nodded as the woman spoke, although Brody couldn't hear the other end of the conversation. “Good. My nephews here would like to get on a starship traveling to the nearest space station. How long does it take to get there and how much does it cost?"

  He nodded several times. “Three months, eh?” To Brody, he said, “Does three months of your life traveling in a sardine can you can't walk off to get fresh air sound like something you'd enjoy?"

  "Three months?” Brody and Jason echoed in unison.

  "I don't think they're interested any longer, Miss Sarah. But I'd love to take you to dinner at Old Crawford's, just the same.” He listened again. “Tootle tootle to you too.” With a smug expression, he hung up.

  "Now, son, you got to learn to get with the women, you see. They're like artwork and think like that too. If you give them something to bite into, they'll be as happy as a worm in a wrinkled apple, just plowing away and eating themselves full until they pretty well pop."

  After snapping the elastic of his suspenders again, he strode back into the living room. The spring in the worn out armchair sagged as he sat to watch the remainder of The Young and the Near Dead.

  Brody wondered how, exactly, he'd conned Miss Sarah into talking to him. “How does he do that?"

  Looking dejected, Jason sat down at the kitchen table. “I don't know, but I'd sure like to know his secret. Funny that woman wouldn't give you the time of day, but she kissed Uncle silly over the phone."

  "It's my new eau de cologne,” Uncle Peter called out above the commercial on the TV.

  As crestfallen as Jason, Brody shook his head. “Sure it is. Sure it is."

  "Do you think if we bump the old man off, we'll get his women?"

  "You can have Mrs. Oglethorpe, but Joanna Petrocheeni is still mine,” Uncle Peter shouted again.

  "I don't get it.” Jason crumpled his head against his bent elbows.

  "You're too young,” came the sharp reply.

  Chapter 10

  Where had she gone? Harley began to panic. The public area was filled, as usual, with all kinds of peoples in colorful clothes and drab personalities. Several wore the helmet that was becoming more and more popular on the station. Harley shook his head in wonder. He'd seen all manner of fashions, from wearing ankle bracelets with large jewels set in the bands, to men wearing nylon mini pants, but this one was too far-fetched. Could Odessa be wearing one to conceal her identity? The helmets didn't give much of a hint to who was underneath, since there was a leather strap that tucked under the chin, and if a person kept their head down, then there was little possibility of being recognized.

  Was Odessa with that short man who looked like a snowman? Harl
ey rushed forward, hoping to get an unobstructed view, but a tall human with a Mohawk hairstyle blocked his path. By the time he got around him, silently cursing the inopportune time to see one of the few hairstyles that bothered him to no end, Odessa was gone.

  Strangely, the snowman alien was still walking along at an easy pace and seemed to be conversing with someone, although Harley couldn't see with whom. He could very well be talking to someone on a headset on another planet, for all he knew. Harley rubbed his eyes and bumped into a woman wearing a shimmering cloth that showed all her assets—and then some. Without delay, he averted his eyes, and making a small noise of apology, spun around and returned in the direction he had come from. He knew if he'd done anything else, the woman would have taken his actions as encouragement to seduce him.

  His vision blurred. He hadn't made love to a woman since Abby. He didn't want anyone else. That is, until Odessa Grante came along with her smart mouth, her hasty wit, and her beauty. He tamped down the urge to find her and the mental image of kissing her lips until they were swollen. She was the enemy, he reminded himself. A duplicitous woman with an agenda of her own, and who wasn't quite as innocent as she made herself out to be.

  Odessa's pixie-like face haunted him. Did she need his protection, or was she leading him into a trap? He couldn't allow the Murrach's men to find her. If he needed to free her, he might compromise his real identity and place himself in grave danger. He paced through the surging and ebbing crowd, paying close attention to the vendors against one side of the circular wall. Some called out to passersby, while others held a sign, hand-painted in their own language. The advertising effect tended to be the same. Some people lingered to examine the wares for sale, while others completely ignored them and went about their business. The smell of the different foods, spicy and sweet, mingled together into an indescribably strong scent and turned Harley's stomach, a reminder he needed to eat soon. But first, he had to find Odessa.

  He kept searching, remembering her honeyed lips against his. Why had he so foolishly kissed her in the concourse instead of finding a way to safety? What foolishness had overtaken his better judgment, even to the point of discarding his own life? Being endangered physically often prompted a man to act irrationally. He knew that. For a reason he couldn't put his finger on, Odessa fascinated him. He hadn't even kissed Abby on their first date.