CHAPTER 9

Hera: The Hide

Almost dark. Good. Critters’ll be movin’ soon, help confuse any thermal. Time to try out the knee........just a twinge. It’ll do. Should pop another pain-killer afore I go.

Now... how to do this. They’d might’ve leaned on a few folk, found out who my friends are, staked them out. Cain’t do everyone though, that’d leave ‘em spread too thin. So... Jeb’s for certain, close enough to the yard for the ship to be close. Not Mort’s place, too far. Gordy’s....yeah, prolly, ain’t near as far as Mort’s, easy reach to the ship with their buggy. Damn. Abigail’s. We ain’t sweeties or nuthin’, but we’ve stepped out a time or two. They’re the type to use a woman as bait.

Wayull, enough musin’ on what might be, time to find out what is. Should make Gordy’s about midnight, check it out, swing ‘round to Abbie’s. That’d make it around two, two-thirty. Over to the house....three-thirty, four. Not long to dawn then. Naw, skip Jeb’s, get to the other hide, settle in afore daybreak. Rest up a few hours. Figger out what comes next.

Check my kit. Canteens full up, no slosh. Everything buckled up or taped down. Cammies on, boots laced up tight. No shine.

Time for a little make-up. Black across the forehead, down the nose, over the chin. Brown over the cheeks, mouth, down one side of my neck. Green over everything else. Don’t forget the ears and back of the neck. Check the paint job in my hand mirror. Missed a spot. That’ll do. Black watch cap to top everything off.

Ready as I’m gonna get. Let’s go walkies.

Persephone: Barty’s Office, 15 Months Ago

“.....have you ever been to Higgins’ Moon?”, Barty asks.

“Cain’t say as I have, nossir.”

“Beastly place, I assure you. The air is malodorous from the mud bogs which provide it’s sole export, mud. Certain rare trace elements in the mud create a superior strength ceramic when it is cooked properly. This mud is collected, by hand, from the bogs by indentured labor, slaves really, the mudders.”

“Running this pitiful little moon is Magistrate Higgins, who has become quite wealthy with his little empire. He fancies himself a connoisseur of fine antiquities from Earth That Was, though I personally find his tastes to be execrable. However, two years ago I “acquired” for him an item which raised him in my estimation quite considerably. I have a client who wishes this same item for his own collection, and, is willing to pay TWICE the amount that Mr. Higgins has. You will re-acquire it for me.”

“And this item would be?”, I ask, curious now.

“A most beautiful tome, sir. Hand bound in leather, beautifully illustrated, also by hand, over a thousand years ago. A second printing of the Gutenberg Bible, one of only four known to still exist,” he says, looking at me expectantly, like I should A) know just what-the-hell he’s talkin’ about, and B) be full of the same reverent awe.

“Excuse me. A Guten-who what?” Sometimes I just cain’t help but be a wise-ass.

“ A BOOK, sir. An extremely rare, dare I say almost priceless BOOK. Honestly, “ he says, throwing up his hands, “I’m surrounded by barbarians.”

Hard to keep a straight face after that last bit. Felt SO good to yank his chain a little.

“No matter,” he continues. “You will board a ship which is even now being serviced and depart for Higgins’ Moon as soon as possible. My client grows impatient, and will hire someone to obtain it himself if I cannot guarantee delivery soon. The layout of the Higgins compound, alarms, and other potentially useful information are on this disc-ette. Study it on the way there. You shall have two days on-planet to acquire the item.”

“And if I cain’t get it, or it takes longer?”

“Then I hope you like the feel of mud between your toes.”