Jade Darcy and the Zen Pirates

Chapter 2: A Mercenary’s Vacation-1

Chapter 2: A Mercenary’s Vacation

The cab dropped Jade off at the entrance to her residential compound. She took off her blouse and her equipment belt as she walked down the well lit sylvan path toward the door; the heavy, humid, 32C air made any clothing feel like too much, and the unitard she wore in lieu of more feminine underwear provided all the covering her minuscule modesty demanded.

The path wound around the rim of two other buildings before it branched off to hers. Jade had chosen this complex because of its vehicle restrictions and treelike-plant privacy screens. Once in her bungalow she couldn’t see her neighbors, and vice versa. With only emergency traffic allowed into the complex—and not even those could get closer than fifteen meters to her place—it was as secure as any urban dwelling could be.

When her feet crossed the tiny green bar of light that marked the start of her personal privacy screen, Jade lifted her hand to the small box on the gatepost so her ID could be registered and the alarms deactivated. The light flashed twice, and Jade walked through. As she got to her door she saw that Pain-In-The-Ass had already been fed.

Pain-In-The-Ass was a frizzlic, a native animal of Cablans that resembled a piebald hedgehog. This one had adopted Jade three years earlier, and earned its name on a regular basis. As Jade approached, Pita stopped pushing his dish around the front porch in a futile search for more food in its clean bottom and skittered over to Jade, making clicking noises on the flagstones with its tiny claws.

“Well, I see you’re in good shape. Megan must be over, right? Anyone might try to break into my place, but only Megan would bother to feed you.” Jade picked up the little beast who was nuzzling her ankles and carried it in. Megan Cafferty was waiting inside as Jade expected.

Megan Cafferty—an extremely wealthy woman, the former head of, and now field representative for, Cafferty Technologies—was the only other Terran on Cablans, and godmother to Pita. She was also the source of many of Jade’s more lucrative assignments. They had met when Megan first came to Cablans and hired Jade for a tough piece of negotiating. It had been successful enough that Megan had stayed on Cablans and continued to hire Jade whenever possible. She was the closest thing Jade had to a friend, and one of only two beings allowed in Jade’s house when she wasn’t present.

Jade hit the palmlock and started to announce herself as the door slid open, but gave it up as a lost cause. They were at it again.

Megan was an amateur operatic soprano, and Val—Jade’s computer—had any vocal range desired. Jade had walked in on Megan singing “Bess, You Is My Woman Now” with the computer. She stood unobserved in the doorway, enjoying the blast of cool air and the look on Megan’s face.

Megan’s face was rapturous as she stood, her luminous white hair forming a halo about her, tendrils curled in the humid air, her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply waiting for her cue. She threw her head up and came in solid and clear with the line “Porgy, I’se your woman now,” taking the killer high first notes with the strength of a young castrato. Pita wiggled out of Jade’s arms, dropped to the floor, and strode over to curl up on Megan’s toes. Megan’s smile broadened as she glanced at the animal, then her eyes flew the rest of the way open as she finally spotted Jade. She looked Jade over in critical appraisal.

“That will be all, Val,” said Megan, and the computer cut off in midnote. “Jade, you’re late and injured. What happened this time?” Megan led the way to the bathroom and the first-aid supplies.

“Just the usual. What did I tell you about corrupting my computer like that? Next thing I know, I’ll get La Boheme as a wake-up call. Val, start the water.”

Jade pulled off her clothes and stepped into the shower while Megan laid out the dressings and ointments. As per standing instructions the shower was already running and at Jade’s preferred temperature when she got in.

“Ouch, damn it!” Jade yelled as the spray hit the abrasions and bruises she’d gotten that evening.

“What was it, Palovoi or Commancors?” asked Megan after a couple of minutes, her trained voice carrying easily over the noise of the running water.

“Phel-f*****g-phums. Just a little marital squabble that did a good thousand eus in damage. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, some assholes decided to bet on the fight, then welsh on the bets ’cause I broke the fight up, and started a regular riot with an energy weapon the new bouncer—the arbiter, no less, brought in. A Lebbin 520. f*****g idiot.” Jade gurgled as she spoke into the running water while she quickly, efficiently finished her shower.

She stepped out of the enclosure and walked over to where Megan was waiting for her. She didn’t wait for the warm air cycle to dry her off, reaching instead for the large fluffy towels Val presented her by opening a cupboard and sliding out the shelf they rested on.

Jade’s feather-cut hair was a skullcap dripping pearls on her face before she attacked it with the smaller towel that had topped the stack. Bent over as she was, the towel covered most of her body from Megan’s view until she threw the damp thing into the lower cupboard and straightened up to take the next one from the stack.

Megan took a moment to eye Jade wistfully, wishing she’d ever looked so perfect. The soft, clear light made Jade’s body glow golden tan as she efficiently dried off. Jade Darcy was of slightly less than average height for a human woman, but that was the only thing ordinary about her. Her body was muscular from many hours of intense workouts. Each motion revealed muscle definition that was sleek and balanced. A powerful gymnast or swimmer would look much the same, but few took the time to develop the entire body the way Jade had. Still, there was a womanly grace about her. No steroids or punishing weightlifting had distorted this form to the so-called body-builders’ parody of humanness, but neither did she have the skinny smoothness of a model who had starved her way to a sleek figure. The resulting appearance was sexy, powerful, feminine—and totally inconsequential to Jade. Her body was as strong, fast, and powerful as she could make it; that, not beauty or sexiness, was her goal.

Megan had often seen Jade undressed in the last year. One of the skills Megan had acquired in her “checkered past” was that of masseuse—not the slapdash skills of a disguised prostitute, but the intricate training of a medical physical therapist. Once Jade had known her long enough to have some trust in her, Megan was often called on to pound, pummel, and coax the strains and pain of Jade’s work out of her. While Megan had originally asked for tonight’s meeting to discuss a contract negotiation trip coming up, one look at Jade’s battered body put that second on the list.

Jade sat down on the chair next to Megan and started to reach for the bandages.

“Stop that! That’s my job, and I’ll thank you to leave it to me,” Megan said with a motherly tone.

“I can get some of them myself,” Jade said in an obviously token protest as she dropped her hand and leaned forward so Megan could reach the eight centimeter square scrape on her lumbar region.

“I’d like to see you bandage this one. I know you could, you’re enough of a contortionist, but it’ll be easier for me. What hit you here, anyway?” Megan gently sprayed the antiseptic liquid and rolled on the adhesive around the oozing skin. “It looks like you fell off of a bicycle on some asphalt.” She placed the large bandage over the zone, pressed its edges carefully onto the adhesive ring she’d drawn, and waited for it to set before she trimmed off the excess gauze pad.

“I bumped against a table,” was all Jade would say. Megan had learned, over the years, that this terseness was a symptom of anger, one of the few emotions Jade could ever let herself feel safely. She had learned, also, not to pry too deeply, or she’d risk having her head cut off—verbally, at least,

“Massage-table mode, Val,” Megan said, and the table that was in the front room of Jade’s bungalow began converting itself into the proper shape and height for her to work. Jade rose and lay down on her back, flinching slightly as the raw spot hit the shallow padding. Megan started on the various bruises, spraying them with light local anesthetic and putting padded dressings over the worst of them.

Suddenly the frizzlic entered the picture. “Oof!” Jade exclaimed as the creature landed on her tummy. “Damn it, Pain-In-The-Ass, when will you learn that my belly is not yours to jump on whenever you wish? I ought to throw you into the cycler and be done with you.”

Pita ignored the fierce words and scrambled up Jade’s body to its favorite place between her small round breasts, then proceeded to settle down with the little grumbly noise frizzlics made as they purred. Jade ruffled its fur and began to pet it even before she finished threatening it.

Megan smiled at the picture of Jade Darcy—one of the most feared and respected mercenaries in this sector of the galaxy, the most efficient killer she’d ever known, one of the few carcs available for private employment—taking abuse from a five kilo furball. She finished with the last of the dressings and started to massage Jade’s slightly swollen feet. Jade stopped talking and responded with her usual moans of delight. As it had learned to expect, the frizzlic got the beneficial side effects of the process—a sensual rubdown as Jade’s hands unconsciously mimicked Megan’s.

Megan worked carefully around the delicate scars that delineated much of Jade’s body, the only outward traces of the complex surgery Jade had undergone to make her a computer-augmented-reflex commando—a carc. The surgery and special training the Terran Forces had given her made her faster and more deadly than any other class of human. They also left her ticklish in places where the scars disturbed some nerves in the skin. Jade had a way of getting back at people who tickled her, and Megan didn’t want green-and-purple hair again, or whatever fiendish thing Jade might think up in retaliation next time.

Megan did Jade’s arms and legs, then dislodged Pita so Jade could turn over and Megan could work on her back. Instead, Jade stood up.

“Is something wrong?” Megan asked as she wiped the massage oil off her hands with Jade’s discarded bath towel. “I’d be happy to get your back for you.”

“No. At least, nothing you’ve done.” Jade paced around the large open room that formed most of her apartment. The living room/kitchen was also the bedroom. The dining table-c*m-massage table also converted into the single bed Jade used for sleeping. The bath, toilet, and shower were to the back of the apartment concealed from the front door by the sink, counter and mirror. The computer displays and ship-type cupboards filled every wall. It left a lot of room to pace in. Following on her heels, avoiding her feet from years of practice, was the frizzlic, snuffling and hoping for a little more attention. Jade ignored it totally.

“Do you realize how long it’s been since I had a real job? Not just as your adviser, or bodyguard that you only need half the time anyway—I mean a war, or skirmish, or rescuing a kidnap victim like that R’nagan.” Jade turned suddenly as she reached her door and bellowed at Megan, “Eight months! Eight months of sitting around while you talk business, or fighting drunks at Rix’s—or, worse, not fighting them. Now they come looking for me. Galentor was bad enough, always wanting me to fight at his place. Now kids come, Palovoi and T’gheelwiuds and even Restaals pick fights in Rix’s just to see what I’ll do. Do you know how hard it is on the nerves to keep pulling punches, to make sure the customer is always treated with respect no matter how big an asshole he is? I’m tired of giving kid glove treatment to giant bugs and walking trees and overgrown porcupines.”