Starlight Gleaming Ch. 16

Grinning, he took the twenty, pulled his cloth cap over his eyes, and settled down in his seat to take a nap.

"Feel free to stretch your legs, but please wait for me," I told Meeno and Eesa. They nodded, opening the windows for air while they waited.

Reaching into my duffle, I retrieved the Caiman and its holster, securing it onto my belt. Eesa's eyes got very big, and even the taxi driver suddenly sat up and paid attention. Free Farmers and above could have a knife, but guns really were a big deal, especially among city dwellers. Putting on my garrison cap, I took a breath and set to my task.

The picket fence in front of the house was missing a lot of slats and several more were broken in places. One section was missing fence altogether. The grey paint was worn and chipped. The ground was dry as scrub, and the only plants were mostly crab-grass and dandelions, and the few trees were scraggly. It was winter time, so I expected the grass to be dormant, but the weeds and wide patches of bare, hard-packed dirt spoke of long neglect and lack of water.

The house, too, was in need of maintenance. Stepping up onto the porch, I saw holes in the floor here and there. Some of the boards groaned ominously. The paint here was in the same shape as the fence. Worn and peeling.

I knocked. Waited a bit and knocked again, harder.

Still no answer. I rapped loudly on the frame, calling out, "Hello? Hello inside!"

The latch suddenly clicked and the door creaked open a few inches.

Before I could advance inside, however, a small, older woman burst forth from the house next door, waving her arms and yelling at me in Nahuatl.

"Get out of here! Haven't you worthless scum done enough to her? Leave her alone or my boys will learn you some -"

I turned.

She came to a sudden halt, staring. "You're a soldier. Are... are you an officer?"

"I am," I answered, giving a short bow and smiling politely. "I'm looking for Zaniyah Tlacotli. The information I had is that she lives here. Do you know where I might find Lady Zaniyah?"

"What do you want with her?" she asked cautiously, bordering on suspicion.

"I've come a long way just to meet her and find out how she's doing. I assure you, I mean her no harm. Who might you be?"

She stared at me for several seconds, looked me over again, then finally nodded. "I'm the widow Teela Deba'xlanti. Zani is in my house. Come on. Follow me."

She looked to be in her sixties, possibly her seventies, but she was hale and spry, and I had to walk quickly to keep up. Lean of body, her grey hair wrapped in a modest bun. The dress was old and worn, but clean and well kept, with some of the colors and patterns favored by the Merchant Caste. Tan dress with dark grey spirals along the hem, topped by a line of stylized lizards above. Matching spirals, bar, and lizards along the arm cuffs.

As we climbed the steps into her house, she began talking again. "They hurt her pretty bad. Those hooligans come by and steal most if not all of her pension money every month. She can't afford to hire anyone and she won't leave."

What?

"Explain your words, Teela. Who hurts her? And who steals her money?"

"The street gangs, of course. Who do you think?" She shook her head, giving me another appraisal, and this time I didn't fare as well.

"What about the police?"

She curled her lip and spat, though it was all noise and no substance. "Effin' coppers! They're all on the take. They only come when there's a body or when there's property to divvy up. The street gangs take everyone's money, and then the cops come by after to get their share. It's enough to make the gods weep."

"Why is everything so dry? There should be plenty of rainfall here."

"His High and Mightiness diverts the water for his personal crops and animals. Charges the people in town dearly for any water they use. The more you use, the steeper the increase in fees and rates. Costs are three times what they were five years ago. Gouging the customers is short-term thinking, and bad business for generating repeat customers. Merchant Caste. I know these things. Most people can't afford to keep flowers or ornamentals any longer. Worse, some people can't even afford to keep gardens any more, which means more are going hungry. Thieves and scoundrels! The old Lord wasn't like that, but our new master, Lord Who-sticks-it-to-ya throws huge, drunken parties for his friends while good folk suffer. There's a freeze on land sales, so even if you wanted to leave, you can't sell your land for money to buy a new start elsewhere. With the way of things, who in their right minds would move here?" She turned around, waving her arms broadly again. "I ask you, who?"

She opened the front door, leaving it open for me. I shut it and followed her deeper into the dimly-lit interior. Definitely middle to upper middle income by the furnishings.

"So how do you survive, Teela?" I asked her. We passed through a living room and entered a combination dining room and kitchen.

"Three strong sons, five - count 'em! - five strapping grandsons. Two of my grandsons live here to keep me safe. That one's Jerro, and that's Dachek. They're good, strong boys. If any of those uppity little gang-bang shits try to come into my home, my boys will learn them a thing or two! Just see if they don't!"

Her boys were actually big men. Each of them had about four inches and fifty pounds on me. If they'd been in uniform, they'd be even more imposing than they were, sitting casually at the kitchen table. My visit had interrupted their card game. They reminded me of Anton, from his heavy-weight wrestling days. Jerro and Dechak watched me with interest as I came in behind Teela.

"What can you tell me about this gang?" I asked.

Turning to lean against a counter, Teela picked up her tea glass and took a swallow before answering. "Hah! This gang of 'wannabes' call themselves The Wild Jaguars. What a joke! If they ever saw a real jaguar, they'd piss a river trying to escape its teeth."

Setting her glass down, she nodded for me to follow. "Zani's back here in the spare bedroom, resting."

At the doorway, she stopped and turned, dropping her voice. "Wait here. I'll see if she's awake." Then she frowned. "Zaniyah's Nahuatl, like me. I do my best by her because we have a tribal connection, and we've been neighbors since before my Marko passed away. I give her food all the time, because they almost always take all that she has. Last time, they also took all three bags of quinoa she had! But she's not kin. I can't make her leave, and I need my boys here, to protect me."

"I understand. I'll wait right here." Seven hells, I thought.

She rapped gently on the door, then entered inside. "Zani? Zani, are you awake? You have a visitor." Teela entered, closing the door behind her.

I took a long breath, preparing myself to wait.

"Are you really an officer?" Dachek asked. Both lounged lazily against the door frame at the hallway entrance, probably to satisfy themselves that I really was an officer. For a commoner to fake being in the uniform of the military earned a hundred lashes. Wearing an officer's uniform, though, earned a ticket to the slave auction block. I had a pistol. A commoner wearing a pistol without the right to do so earned death by torture. Still, it wasn't unheard of.

"I'm Senior Lieutenant Ranji Kandikan, Imperial Air Service."

"Aren't you a little young for that rank?" Jerro said, looking at me sidelong.

"Jerro! That's just rude."

"But Lieutenant Wayatsho is in his forties. He wears two deelie-bobbers on his shoulders, and this guy has three!"

"It's still rude, Jerro." His brother shook his head.

"I'm just sayin' is all!"

"Maybe he has better connections than Wayatsho."

I wondered a moment whether I was still on the bus, and I was having a really vivid and weird dream. Like one of those strange entertainment stories, where one of the gods sets up a grand illusion to test the main character's mettle with all sorts of challenges and outlandish situations.

At that moment, Teela stepped back out into the hallway while the two brothers were still arguing about how long Wayatsho had been a Lieutenant.

"Hush you two!" she snapped. "Go play your game and stop making so much racket. I could hear you through her closed door!"

Chastised, they retreated to the kitchen.

Teela stood up a bit straighter as she took her time looking me over. Licked her lips and smiled. "My, my," she murmured. "You are a handsome devil, aren't you? And an officer. Now that I've seen you better, even with that shadow on your face, you are nicely put together."

Rubbing my bristly chin, I smiled. "I just got into town today. I haven't even had a chance to shower or shave, so I apologize for my appearance."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, young lord. Nope. Not a thing."

I tried to move past her, but she slid in front of me, blocking me. I was surprised by her boldness.

She looked up, speaking quieter. "You being a lord and everything, you could... have your way with me... Just bend me over, lift my dress, and... there would not a single thing I could do about it. Nothing at all, but... just let you... take me."

I heard real need underneath her matter-of-fact words.

There was the sound of a slap, and glancing back into the kitchen, I saw Dechak's face covered by the palm of his hand.

Leaning into our view, Jerro had a sad look. "Grandma, did you just offer yourself to this man? You don't even know him! And at your age, too! You're a respectable widow. What would your son, our father, say?"

Teela's eyes flared, breathing hard as she pushed past me, hands on her hips. "He's an officer. That means he's a nobleman. It's his right to take me if he wants! Nothing you or I can do about it. Nor you, either. Not a thing, do you understand me, boys? And for your information, this old stove has plenty of fire left in it, so you mind your sass!"

I was flattered by her not-so-subtle offer. Even so, I lifted her chin, turning her focus to me. "How long has it been?"

"Seventeen years. Since Marko died." Suddenly sad, she looked down. "I'm only sixty-two, but I don't look so bad, do I? Is it because of my age?"

Teela wasn't a beauty, and life had left its mark. Younger than I'd first thought. Still, beneath the wrinkles and saggy skin and even saggier breasts was a woman trapped by her very human desires. I thought at first it was a simple wish to be held, but then I saw the look in her eyes. Pupils dilating. Skin flushing. No question about it. Teela wanted to be fucked senseless.

Feelings mattered, though.

Caressing her cheek, I smiled. "No, it isn't your age. If I did such things, I'd make sure you squealed. Over and over. But I don't take women against their will, Teela. Now if you please, I want to see Lady Zaniyah."

Openly disappointed, she moved aside. To her grandsons she muttered, "Old I may be, but I am not dead. Not by a long shot. And you'd best remember that."

"Yes, Grandma," they answered together.

Hoo boy. Seventeen years is a lot of pent up need. I shook my head. I was flattered, but I was also glad to dodge that bullet.

I slipped inside the room, closing the door behind me. My eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Sitting on the bed, her back to the headboard, was middle-aged woman. There was a large bruise on her cheek, by the look of which was fresh. She was overly thin, for the bones on her body were prominent, more than if she were just leanly built. The dress she wore was worn and the once-bright colors faded. Like Teela, the design was Merchant Caste. A shawl across her shoulders to ward against the evening chill.

But she had those large black eyes. Pools of blackness that could swallow you up. Just like my Janetta. Same nose. The same sharp, intelligent gaze. My heart responded, aching at the memories of Janetta she evoked.

Once I found my voice, I gave a short bow. "Lady Zaniyah Tlacotli? Widow of Captain Milintica Tlacotli, Imperial Ground Service?"

"Who are you?" she asked quietly, sitting up straighter. Looking me over.

My greeting seemed to ease some of her fear, but she was still uncertain about me and my intentions. She brushed her hair away from her face nervously, revealing more ugly bruises along her wrist and arm.

Even her movements reminded me of Janetta.

"I am Senior Lieutenant Ranji Kandikan of the Imperial Air Service. I have traveled a long way to see how you are faring. Lady Zaniyah, I must tell you, I am disturbed to learn that things are not as they should be."

Raising her eyebrows, she narrowed her gaze. If the mother had half the fire and spirit of the daughter, the two of them must have fought like champions, carrying on the fight even while bleeding from expertly delivered verbal wounds capable of slaying lesser mortals.

She tilted her head a bit. "I haven't seen someone from the government in more than ten years. And you're not Ground Service. If you're here to get something from me, you're going to be disappointed. I have no money and no influence with anyone. So why are you are here, Lieutenant?"

Spotting a chair, I pulled it up and sat down. "Lady Zaniyah, I'm not here in any official capacity. And for the time being, I'd like to keep this visit just between us."

There was a flash behind her eyes and she scowled in irritation. "You still haven't told me why you are here. Out with it!"

No doubt at all she was Janetta's mother.

I took a slow, deep breath to collect myself. "Yes, I'm very sorry about that. It's a bad habit of mine, not answering directly when it comes to personal matters. My visit to you is a personal matter for me. I'm in love with your daughter, Janetta."

She looked away at that, now cautious and withdrawn. "Janetta's alive then. How is she?"

"Janetta's a wonderful, beautiful, and amazing woman! She has such strength! She's loyal and brave and - did I say that she's absolutely amazing?"

Zaniyah turned back to me, amusement flickering as she attended my words.

On a roll, I continued. "She's an interceptor pilot and she's one of the best they have! Even her commanding officer told me so. Twice! She has a flight crew and they are devoted to her. She's already made captain -"

"What?" Suddenly animated, she leaned forward. "A captain? So soon! How? What happened? Please, Lieutenant, tell me all about it!"

The hunger for news of her daughter was plain to see. Here was a chance for me to talk to Janetta's mother about her accomplishments, and about much I loved her. Just as I readied myself for a long discourse, I remembered there were people outside in a taxi waiting for me, for us.

"I will, in due time, Lady Zaniyah," I assured her. "First, I want to take you away from this. Things are bad here, and likely to get much worse."

Zaniyah shook her head. "No. I won't leave. My husband is gone, and my daughter won't even speak with me. She hasn't so much as visited, written, or even called since she enlisted at age sixteen. That was more than six years ago. This home I shared with my husband for five years. I gave birth to my child within its walls. If I listen at night, I can still hear the echos of his footsteps. My home... it's all I have left of him. And her."

"But you're in danger here! It's just a building," I protested. "Homes can re-built, but people are unique, irreplaceable."

"You must understand, Lieutenant. Mil was not just my husband, he was the love of my life! When he died, at least I had my daughter, who was a part of us both. His death devastated both of us. And no matter how much I tried to make her see, I couldn't make her understand that as much as she missed her father, that I was hurting, too. We are both headstrong women, but Mil kept both of us focused, grounded. After he was gone, my days were filled with trying to keep a defiant, headstrong child from getting herself killed, and my nights were spent grieving for my lost husband, and weeping for the sharp, angry words exchanged by two people who should have loved and leaned on each other. The words of my daughter hurt as much as the ones I unfairly gave back to her. In hindsight, I realize that now. But as unpleasant as some of the memories have been, that house also holds the happiest ones. The day my husband carried me over the threshold. The day I held my baby girl in my arms for the first time. The loving look he gave me, happy to hold our child. That house has been my home for twenty-five years. I'm staying."

This complicated things. But I still had options. "Lady Zaniyah, while the news of your daughter must wait, I can tell you about your brave husband and how he died. You can not share the news with anyone else, as the information is a state secret. However, I will tell you because you deserve to know the truth."

Drawing her shawl closer, desperate hope filled her eyes. Now I could see that Milintica's death, and the secrecy surrounding it, had haunted mother and daughter in equal measure. As much as she wanted to hear of her child, she needed this more.

"Yes, please tell me! But, first - does she know? Does Janetta know how her father died?"

"Janetta and I heard the tale together." I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reached out and took her hand. "The knowledge has helped ease the loss of her father. Enough, I hope, that her heart is finally beginning to heal. And I must say, that to have had the complete and devoted love of his wife and his daughter, Milintica Tlacotli must have been a truly remarkable man."

"He was a good man and the best husband! The best!" Tears spilling, she squeezed my hand, urging me on. "Please? I need to know."

So I told her of the race to reach the downed grey starship, the rush to extract critical technical parts, before either the greys or the Atlanteans showed up. How the Atlanteans did arrive, outnumbering the small team of volunteers, and the deadly firefight that ensued. How Sergeant Milintica Tlacotli rigged the bomb, then held the enemy off while the survivors escaped with the captured alien engine.

"It was only when he knew the rest of his team were safe that he set off the explosives. I'm sure he never felt a thing. Against overwhelming odds, he held back a superior force of enemy warriors, and protecting the rest of the team. Because of him, they completed their mission. I know it does not replace your loss, but your husband was fierce in battle, defiant against his enemies, and he died a real hero in the service of the Empire, living in the truest sense the Warrior's Code. When the Emperor elevated him to the Warrior Caste, giving him the rank of captain, your husband set the bar high for the rest of us."

"Aliens... and... all this is true?" she whispered.

I nodded. "I heard this information from someone I would trust with my life. I believe that at long last, you and your daughter finally have the truth of his death. And if anything, it has increased Janetta's love for her father, and deepened her desire to act in a manner that would make him proud of her."

Withdrawing her hand, she wrapped her arms about herself, shaking. Silent tears, as much from grief relived as relief for at last knowing the answer of how her husband perished. For mother and daughter, the not-knowing had been a deep, aching, crippling void that prevented them from moving past his death, and that void had acted to keep them apart. Now at last, Zaniyah, too, could heal.

All this I understood, and it made my decision to come here not just a right one, but the only one.

Leaning close, I turned her face to look at me. "I love your daughter with all my heart. She may or may not come around to acknowledging that you and she share the same, heartfelt loss. I truly hope so. You and she are family. Blood kin. And because I love her, Lady Zaniyah, you are my family now, too. I cannot walk away now that I know how your life has been. Therefore I must take steps to rectify things here. I will honor your wish to remain in the house you shared with your late husband, even if it's against my better judgment. Lady Zaniyah, I ask you. Will you place your welfare in my hands?"