Chapter One

The flames from the burning tanker bellowed greedily behind her. Falle crouched beside a pile of rubble, her heart pounding as she watched green tracers arch overhead and geysers of dirt and flame from incoming beams.

She wiped at tears streaking the grime on her face. At the parapet another defender clutched at his chest and fell back among the dead, his scream thin above the noise of battle. His force pistol rolled down the slope and came to a stop at her feet.

The incoming beams had stopped. They were almost here.

One of the raiders appeared and climbed over the parapet. He caught sight of the little girl beside the pile of rock and stopped. The grin which swept his face was an evil thing, sharp and wide as the assault knife he slid from its sheath.

Falle picked up the force pistol. The raider was reflected in a myriad of light patterns and images; a bead of sweat running through the beard stubble on his chin. Gore smeared the ornamental lacework of the knifeguard and a torn shred of cloth fluttered on his combat vest. The smile he wore was wider than the horizon, coming closer.

The force pistol jerked to life in her hand. She saw, as if a spectator looking over her shoulder, the raider performed a deep bow around the neon pencil from her weapon before flipping backward to lie still on the sand.

More raiders appeared on the horizon. Again and again she fired, a little figure wreathed in smoke.

Abruptly, they turned and ran, their yells fading out across the valley. There was the whine of a hoverplane starting up, growing faint in the distance.

Falle lowered the pistol and stared at the barrel glowing red, at flames behind her reflecting from the polished tristeel. She held it to her breast while she climbed the dune and looked out over burning wreckage and sprawled bodies.

She was alone. From this moment on she would always be alone.

~ * ~

Mr. Chang drummed his fingers on the padded armrest of his targhide office chair and gazed out the plexglass window high above the busy workings of the aurumite mine. A faint clatter of machinery could be heard over the quiet drone of his suite air-conditioning. He watched spirals of dust rising from the pit to paint graceful shapes against the pink Dustball sky.

There was the swish of his office door and footfalls moving across the carpet. He swiveled the chair to face his visitor.

Standing on the tan plush was a mass of veined muscle, a roadmap of scars, the mean red-rimmed eyes of a wartpig. Facing the little man behind the huge desk, his meaty paws trembled and sweat ran down the back of his combat vest. He nervously cleared his throat. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

For a long moment Chang fixed him with a cold glare. He pushed a glass of water and a square of red stone to the front of the desk.

“Here before you is a twenty gram piece of refined aurumite, worth about two hundred creds on the New Earth market. Beside it is a simple glass of water.” Eyebrows lifted above the antique spectacles. “Which do you think is the most valuable commodity on this planet, Mr. Gorth?”

Gorth swallowed heavily. He knew where this was going. “Um, the glass of water, Mr. Chang.”

“Very good, water. Without water, nothing on this windblown desert of a planet, including you, myself, the happy colonists of Haboob City and of course, this little mining enterprise of the Aurumite Corporation of New Earth would survive.” He tapped the rim of the glass. “There are only five known aquifers drawing water from fossil deposits although there are bands of sandcrawlers, otherwise known as water prospectors, continuously searching for more. What aquifers they do locate and file claim on, Haboob City pays a price our operations budget cannot support. Which is why I depend on you and your raiders.”

A silence descended on the room, broken only by the faint cry of the wind and patter of sand against the plexglass.

“Tell me about the raid on Zak Braddock’s new find in Kilometer Twelve?”

Gorth ran a dry tongue over his lips. “Yeah, the family of sandcrawlers and their crew. Well, they had the shaft drilled down to the aquifer, their equipment set up and ready to start pumping into their tankers,” he explained. “We hit them hard and fast before they could get off a distress call to the city.” “So you were able to take over the claim and start filling up our tankers?”

“Um, not exactly.” A drop of sweat hung trembling from Gorth’s nose. “We were taken on by heavy and accurate pulse gun fire from behind the dunes. Lost five of my best men before we were able to make it back to the hoverplane and get away.”

“Heavy and accurate pulse gun fire,” Chang repeated calmly.

He touched a row of buttons and a screen came to life on a far wall. Framed against a burning tanker, a little girl in a torn and dirty dress held up a pulse gun, firing at an approaching band of Gorth’s raiders.

“I understand she’s the daughter of the claim owner, Zak Braddock. What would you say this child’s age would be? Ten, maybe twelve?”

Gorth paled beneath his tan.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten your past employment digging at the mine face at its lowest levels. Perhaps you would care to be reassigned back there?”

“Nossir, Mr. Chang.”

“Surveillance from our company satellite monitoring the water prospectors,” Chang continued. “Just before it passed out of range it showed your little antagonist wandering off into the desert. Do you know what this means, Mr. Gorth?”

The raider looked away from the now blank screen. “Um, nossir, Mr. Chang.”

“It means it is now safe for you and your brave lads to return to the claim, take it over and start pumping out water.”

~ * ~

It had not been a good day for Hal and Ernie. The possible aquifer indicated by their sensing equipment turned out to be a glitch in the calibration after an hour of drilling probes through rock-hard sandstone. The comm set on the terratrax, necessary to monitor frequent and violent sandstorms, expired after a series of asthmatic wheezes. To crown a glorious day, a pillow block bearing on the starboard track runner seized, necessitating an emergency teardown under the blazing pink eye of Dustball’s sun.

Hal wiped his face with a greasy rag and squinted at the rolling dunes on the horizon. “Hey, is that smoke I see?”

Ernie dropped a wrench into the toolbox and peered at the horizon. “Yeah. Say, ain’t that the direction of Zak Braddock’s new claim?”

“Pretty close to it. Why don’t you finish up here while I take a look-see?”

Hal hiked down a canyon of shattered sandstone monoliths and slogged up the side of a huge dune to look down on a valley below.

Smoke oozed lazily from a wrecked service truck parked next to an overturned water tanker. Scattered around the wellhead machinery were the bodies of raiders and defenders of the claim. With a chill, Hal noticed from the torn clothing and position of the body the woman had been raped.

A lone droning arose and the dagger shape of a hoverplane drifted over the hills. A line of tracked vehicles followed, pulling to a stop at the wellhead.

“Claim jumpers,” Hal whispered, easing himself down the dune.

Ernie had just completed repairs when Hal arrived, sweating and out of breath.

“You gonna have a coronary on me?” Ernie demanded.

“Claim jumpers over the hill, just showed up at Braddock’s claim,” he panted. “We gotta make ourselves scarce in this vicinity.”

“I found a cracked race in the bearing housing. It’ll last until we get back to Haboob City and pick up a new…holy shit!”

A strangely familiar hum came from behind them. Sounds like a blaster ramping up to full charge, Hal thought and turned to see a little blonde girl in a ragged and smoke-stained dress standing a few feet away. The force pistol she held in her tiny hand seemed enormous. He groped with the unreality of it all until he saw the crazed blue fire in her eyes sighting along the barrel.

“Don’t fire, we’re the good guys,” Ernie squalled, his hands reaching heavenwards. “Gimme a break, willya!”

The girl seemed to ponder his request before switching off the safety catch.

“Let’s just back off a moment, honey,” said Hal reasonably. “We’re not claim jumpers.”

“I don’t wanna die.” Ernie wailed. “Look toots, just gimme three steps and you won’t see me no more.”

The muzzle of the blaster lowered slightly. The girl looked from Ernie to Hal. “Who are you?”

“Just a pair of sandcrawers; water prospectors,” said Hal. “Had to stop here and make repairs on our rig. I’m Hal Chavez and the guy over there on his knees crying is Ernie Potts.”

“I’m Falle Braddock,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

“Your family had claim to the aquifer over the dune, right?”

The blue in her eyes darkened.

“Yes.”

Hal nodded in sympathy. “Look, we’re headed back to Haboob City and you’re welcome to come along. Why don’t you toss me your little toy and hop aboard?”

She glared, mouth set in a determined line.

“Not a chance, mister.”

“Okay, Miss Blondie,” Hal drawled. “You’re in the middle of the Firestone Desert, about thirty clicks from toy stores, ice cream and a nice clean place to go potty. You wanna ride or walk?”

With reluctance she walked over and handed him the weapon.

“Thank you ever so much, Miss Braddock.”

He turned to his partner. “Ernie, you want to show the lady a seat on our rig while I fire up the engines?”

“Um, I need a few moments first,” he replied uneasily.

“What the hell for?”

“I think I pooped my pants.”

~ * ~

“Boss, we have a problem.”

Flasco chewed the plastic end of his spindriver and contemplated the ominous red light on the pump console. A line of tankers was parked by the wellhead behind him, veiled by smoke from a burning drill rig.

“Okay Flasco, what kind of problem?” said Gorth, looking over his shoulder while he rolled out pump hoses.

“Old man Braddock set up a really nice surprise for claim jumpers. State of the art booby trap on the pump controls.” He shook his head in admiration. “Looks like he had time to arm it before your boys took him out.”

“Well, stop farting around and disarm it,” said Gorth impatiently.

“Not so easy. See the pad by the panel? It reads the DNA of the operator. Wrong DNA and something very bad happens to life forms in the vicinity.”

Gorth eyed the control box warily. “What kind of booby trap we talking about here?”

“No way to tell until it goes off. Could be flesh-eating gas, lethal pulse of neutron X radiation, even a nest of sand wasps.” He stood up, dusting off his knees. “I could work through the alarm codes, one by one.”

“How long would this take?”

“About two weeks.”

Gorth scowled. “Okay, the pump control security system is deactivated by a DNA reading of Braddock’s hand on the pad, right?”

“Sure, but that crispy critter in yonder terratrax is what’s left of him.”

“A blood relative would have the same DNA reading, right?”

“Sure, but what…”

“Get a team out in the hoverplane and find the little girl, his daughter. Honk up Chang’s mine security staff in Haboob City on the off chance she makes it there.”

“Big sandstorm moving in, boss.”

“How far can she go? Just find her.”

~ * ~

The terratrax rode the storm like a ship in a heavy sea, swaying at each blast of wind-driven grit, riding up each dune and plowing down the slope. Hal eased around a dagger of basalt, which loomed suddenly though the murk on his infrared screen.

“Wonder why the raiders at Braddock’s claim left then came back,” he mused aloud. “Probably forgot to bring beer for the party.” Ernie flinched as the storm lashed grit across the windshield.

“Yeah, some party. Murder, rape, destruction. I can imagine what that kid had to go through,” said Hal. “Must be a traumatizing experience for a child.”

“She’s traumatized,” Ernie snorted. “When I saw her blaster aimed at my nuts…”

“Okay, okay. Why don’t you drive the sled while I go back and check on her?”

“Hey, I bet the first thing she says is ‘Are we there yet?’”

Hal picked up a snackbar and a juice tube from the galley and made his way down the narrow corridor to the crew’s quarters.

Falle had her nose pressed against a porthole watching the sand hurrying past. She greeted Hal’s arrival with a blank reptilian stare.

“Are we there yet?” she demanded.

“You’ll be the first to know. Listen, I thought you might be hungry.”

He held out the snackbar and juice tube.

She turned the bar over in her hand with distaste. “What’s this? A dried gomph dropping? Am I supposed to eat it?”

“You’re very welcome,” Hal retorted. “I planned to escort you to the restaurant in our cargo hold but I remembered our French chef is off today.”

With a surly grunt she peeled off the wrapper and stuffed it into her mouth.

“All right, I need to discuss what we’re gonna do with you.” He knelt in the aisle by her seat. “We’re about ten zaks from Haboob City. You got any relatives there? Maybe back in the Homeworlds?”

Finishing off the snackbar she twisted the top from the juice tube and shook her head. “Just my father, Aunt Dee and Uncle Brad. They’re all dead back at the claim.” She stared moodily out the porthole. “I’m glad I shot them.”

Hal blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The claim jumpers; they kept coming over the dune and I shot at them with the gun thing until they left.” She looked up at Hal, the doll face and pale blue eyes hard. “I liked it, especially the one with the knife.”

“The knife?”

Falle reached under her dress and unsheathed a serrated assault knife. She ran her fingers lovingly along the blade. “He’s the one who did bad things to my Aunt Dee. I shot him in the crotch.”

Hall took a deep breath. Picking up this lone survivor perhaps wasn’t the most life-extending decision he had made of late. He held out his hand. “Maybe it would be a good idea if I kept it for you, huh?”

She graced him with a blend of defiance and scorn. “Okay, turn around, bend over and I’ll give it to you.”

“Whoa, hostility. I can see you’re gonna make lots of friends when we get to…” He peered out the porthole at a line of winking lights. “Speaking of which, I think we’ve arrived.”

The terratrax joined a line of hovertracks, tankers and sundry vehicles moving down a busy street. The sandstorm was winding down, revealing the polydome shapes of office buildings and brightly-lit storefronts. They pulled onto a sidestreet and killed the engines.

“Ernie, why don’t you head to the part depot and pick up our bearing. See if they know anyone who can fix our comm set while you’re there.”

He looked over his shoulder to see Falle coming down the aisle. “I gotta make tracks to the Peaceforce Station, fill out a report about the raid on Braddock’s claim and find out what to do about little Miss Sunshine here.”

The girl poked Hal in the ribs. “Can I have my blaster back?”

“Not a chance, kid.” he retorted. “Why?”

“Because I want to point it at baldy here and see him poop his pants again.”

Ernie glared at her and lurched from his seat toward the hatch. “I’ll pick up the parts but I need a pit stop at the Sandcastle Bar first for a cold one.”

“Don’t get shit-faced, we need to get back to work. What say we meet back at the ’trax about six?”  He studied Falle. “Why do you always have to be such a gomph’s ass?”

She favored him with a smile. It was the first time he had seen her do this and he decided he didn’t like it at all. There was something really…feral…in her smile.

~ * ~

“Look, buddy, we already got five reports of claim jumpers all over Dustball to investigate, plus eight murders, thirty armed robberies and the hijacking of an aurumite shipment in Haboob City alone.” The sergeant behind the cluttered desk looked tired and overworked. He pushed a stack of forms toward Hal. “Just fill out a statement and we’ll assign a case number. Now what about the kid?”

“I guess she’s the lone survivor of the raid on her father’s claim,” Hal explained. “Anyplace I can take her?”

“Well, the City Shelter for Displaced or Abandoned Children has a long waiting list. Check with them tomorrow. You’re gonna have to hang onto the kid until they have an opening.”

“You have to be kidding.” Hal sputtered. “Do I look like some kind of babysitter?”

“You accepted legal responsibility for her when you rescued her out in the desert. That’s the law here on Dustball.” He turned his back and began punching reports into a viscreen. “Have a nice day.”

Standing at his side Falle snickered. “Seems like you’re stuck with me.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” he retorted.

Hal sighed. He took in the torn dress and grimy face. “I suppose if we’re going to be seen together, I should be doing something about you looking like a rag doll someone dragged out of an interplanetary landfill.”

~ * ~

The bartender at the Sandcastle Bar and Grill watched the end of shift workers from the mine surge through the doors whooping and shouting to friends. Soon there would be spilled beer, bar fights, passes at his new and highly nubile server and hopefully…tips.

“Need another refill, pal.” Ernie dropped an empty shot glass into the pile before him.

“Coming right up.” The bartender hated whiny drunks but they were usually the best tippers, worth a little forced sympathy. “So, you’re giving up water prospecting, huh? Working here in the city for your brother?”

“Danged right. Called him up at his tanker repair shop and heard he’s looking for a good wrench turner. No more sweating my brains out in the desert for me.”

“Hey Danny, how they hangin’?”

A tall woman in the uniform of mine security slipped into the stool beside Ernie.

“Elaine Dante, long time no see.”

The bartender beamed at the new arrival. Elaine was one of the good tippers. “What’ll it be?”

“Schooner of Fresian ale, nice and cold.”

“You still angling for the job of security chief at the mine?”

He placed a foaming mug before her.

“I guess you’re still hunting for the guys who hooked your aurumite shipment, huh? Promotion in the bag if you can nail them.”

“Nah, old Chang has us out combing the entire city, looking for some little girl.” She took a long pull at her mug and belched appreciatively.

“What did she do, hijack the shipment?”

“Hell, if I know. He just sent out an order to find her and turn her over to some spacer named Gorth.”

“Snotty little blonde brat,” Ernie announced to his pile of empty shot glasses.

Elaine looked over at him with interest. “This is funny. Chang didn’t say nothing about her being blonde.”

“Had a blaster pointed right at my family jewels,” Ernie slurred. “Good old Hal decided to be Mother Theresa instead of leaving her little smart mouthed butt in the deshert.”

“Say mister, you mind if I buy you a drink?” said Elaine, grinning.

Ernie blinked at her myopically. “That would be real shwell of you, buddy.”

“Bring my friend a shot of whatever he’s having,” she said to the bartender. “Him and me got a lot to talk about.”

~ * ~

The dressing room door opened and the saleslady ushered Falle past racks of children’s clothes into the waiting area. “Here’s the little lady, all shiny and new like a Homeworld penny,” she gushed.

It was indeed a vast improvement with the new blue dress, a ribbon in her hair and freshly scrubbed face. “Would she be your daughter?”

Hal pushed himself off the uncomfortable and cushionless couch and groped for his wallet. “No ma’am. I was blessed by a benevolent fate she is not,” he replied.

“Anyone can see he isn’t my father,” Falle huffed. “If he was, I’d be butt ugly and smell bad like him.”

The saleslady seemed bemused. “My goodness, if it wasn’t for the age difference, I would swear you two were married.”

They took the transport shuttle across town. As they got off at the side street she tugged at his sleeve.

“Listen, about what I said in the clothing store.”

Hal appraised her thoughtfully. She seemed abashed about something, chewing her lower lip and fidgeting.

“Well, don’t be shy. Spit out what’s on your mind.”

“It’s about my new dress and stuff.”

“What about the new dress and stuff?”

“I kind of forgot…to thank you.” She twisted her fingers together. “I’m sorry I called you ugly.”

Hal was completely taken aback. “Wow, gratitude and common courtesy. I didn’t know you had it in you, blondie.”

She flushed. “Okay, you’re not the best example of good taste and personal hygiene. In fact…”

She peered over Hal’s shoulder. “I think we should leave now.”

He followed her gaze and noticed the black tailfin of a hoverplane behind the terratrax.

“If it isn’t Miss Braddock and Mr. Chavez.” Gorth and four of his raiders stepped from a side alley. They had their hands resting on the butts of their force pistols. “How about a nice scenic flight into the Firestone Desert,” said Gorth. “I hear its right pretty around sunset.”

~ * ~

The sun was low on the horizon, painting a red tableau of parked water tankers and the group of raiders. Walking down the ramp from the hoverplane with Falle close behind him, Hal was relieved to see the bodies of her family had been removed. There was still a lingering trace of sun ripened corpses overlaid by smoke. Gorth gave him a final shove in the direction of the aquifer pump controls.

“Flasco, I’d like you to meet Miss Braddock and her friend Mr. Chavez.” He grinned at the little man loaded down with toolbelt and meters. “The little lady has volunteered to help us with our small problem.”

“Sure, some small problem.”

He took in the little girl staring at him with cold blue fire in her eyes. Damn, she’s got a mean set of peepers, he thought.

“Your father showed you how to arm and disarm the DNA reader on the pump controls, right?”

“Of course he, did,” she replied sullenly.

“Glad to hear this. Tell you what, lots of candy in store for you if you disarm dear old Dad’s booby trap.”

“Lots of candy, huh? I’m almost eleven years old, you little pile of puke,” she retorted. “Go take a hike.”

“Kinda thought she’d say that.” Gorth jerked out his force pistol and shoved it against the side of Hal’s head. “Care to make any dumber decisions, Miss Braddock?”

Falle contemplated the circle of grinning raiders. The expression on her doll face could have been carved from marble. She walked over to the pump console and began pushing buttons. A siren began to scream while a red eye blazed into life. She placed her hand on the DNA sensor pad and twisted a switch. The siren squelched off and the red eye segued to a mellow green. She looked up at Gorth.

“It’s safe to operate now,” she declared. “I have to go potty really bad.”

Gorth smugly holstered his weapon. “Flasco, get the tankers over here and start up the pumps. I’m gonna escort the kid over by them sandstone slabs so she can have a tad of privacy. Oh yeah, why don’t you tag along too, Mr. Chavez?”

The whine of water tankers starting up echoed back and forth among the crags.

“This is far enough.”

Hal saw Gorth had his weapon out and a determined set to his jaw. He grabbed Falle and pushed her behind him.

“Getting ready to tie up some loose ends, huh, dirtbag?” he said.

“Well, we can’t have Miss Braddock here showing up in Haboob City claiming beneficiary’s rights to Mr. Chang’s new aquifer, can we?” he snorted. “Okay, which one of you gets it first…?”

A flash of green incandescence lit up three silhouettes on a sandstone slab. A wave of superheated air washed over them. The group of raiders about the well became transparent before blossoming into fountains of emerald gas. Faint cries drifted across the valley.

“What in the goddamned blazes of hell.” Gorth snarled and then uttered a thin scream as the assault knife slid into his vitals. He took a single palsied step before falling on his face on the sand.

Hal watched with utter disbelief while Falle jerked the knife from the body and with surly contempt wiped it clean on his shirt.

“You know, I’m not complaining,” he said after a moment’s contemplation of the silent water tankers clustered about the well head. “But I thought you disarmed Dad’s booby trap at the pump?”

“I didn’t disarm it because I couldn’t,” she said. “I’m Zak Braddock’s adopted daughter. My real father was Mike Crandell.”

Hal whistled silently. “Looks like Mr. Chang of the Aurumite Corporation was so eager to get his mitts on this aquifer he neglected to check out some facts.”

A hot wind sighed over the valley floor, heralding the coming sunset. Falle raised her face to Hal, dropping her gaze downward.

“So, what’s going to happen to me now?” she asked. “I suppose…we’ll be heading back to the city. Maybe they have room now at the Center for Displaced or Abandoned Children.”

Hal realized he was no longer looking at the feral eyes of a vengeful survivor but the face of a lonely and frightened child.

“Actually, I was thinking of how swell we get along together. Since good old Zak Braddock thought what a bright idea it was to adopt you maybe I could put up with doing the same.”

Hal felt her hand slide into his. From the corner of her eyes two tears slid down her cheeks. She smiled a soft and happy smile.

~ * ~

The new chief of security for the Aurumite Corporation on Dustball stood on the tan plush in front of Mr. Chang’s ornate desk. She had her thumbs hooked into her gunbelt and was idly watching the busy workings of men and machinery through the plexglass. She appeared almost bored.

Mr. Chang felt a worm of unease. He loved browbeating subordinates, especially the late Mr. Gorth whom he enjoyed reducing to a state of quivering jelly on occasion. It appeared if Ms. Elaine Dante was any more relaxed, she would be asleep.

“The aquifer on Kilometer Thirty has run dry and the contract with the one on Kilometer Eight is about to expire.” He assumed his sternest expression. “We have at best two days of water left to sustain our mining operations.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve read the reports,” she said.

“Our surveillance satellite has shown the claim at Kilometer Twelve is up and running at full blast. Do you have an explanation Ms. Dante?”

“Evidently the young Miss Crandell inherited the claim. She and her partner obtained funding from a major New Earth bank when it was discovered the aquifer held millions of deciliters of fossil water.”

“I promoted you to security chief as a reward for locating Miss Crandell and now you tell me she is running the operation there?” His scowl deepened to no avail. His attempt to intimidate Ms. Dante was going nowhere. “So, what’s this about a partner?”

Elaine shrugged. “The partner is a Mr. Hal Chavez and the operation is called the Crandell and Chavez Water Company.”

Chang’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes sir. In fact, our finance department contacted them regarding a possible purchase of their water output.”

A faint flicker of hope arose with another spasm of heartburn. “What was their reply?”

An enigmatic smile played over her face. “I really don’t think you want to hear their reply, Mr. Chang.”

A chime sounded from a ceiling speaker. “A priority one communication is coming in from New Earth,” crackled a metallic voice.

A jowled and stern-looking executive wearing a tailored grey jumpsuit appeared on a wall screen.

Chang turned to the screen, pushing his glasses farther up his nose.  “Good morning, Mr. Calomini. What a pleasure it is to see you,” he said, affecting a weak smile.

A priority one call from the Senior Director of the Aurumite Corporation was unusual – Ominous.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Chang, although perhaps it won’t end that way; The Board of Directors has decided to terminate your employment at the mine on Dustball.”

Chang jerked as if he’d been slapped. “Terminate my employment at the mine?” he sputtered. “You can’t do this, I have seniority…”

“Dustball is a Right To Work planet. We have the option to terminate at will.” The face on the wall screen looked impassively down.

“But…why?” Chang groped for an argument which would avert this catastrophe.

“Seventy percent of the shares in this mine have been purchased by a local investor.”

“Local investor?”

“Crandell and Chavez Water Company; Part of the agreement was your termination, effective immediately.” Mr. Calomini’s lips moved slightly in an expression of sympathy. “Deep regrets, Mr. Chang, and best of luck.”

The wall screen went blank.

Two burly security guards appeared on either side of Elaine Dante. She nodded toward the big desk.

“Escort Mr. Chang to the main gate,” she ordered.

Voicing threats and shrill protests to no avail, he was hustled to the elevator, past gaping office workers to the steel exit gate on the grounds.

“I have a final message to deliver, Mr. Chang,” Elaine said, as they stood on the dirt road.

Angrily shaking off the guard’s hands, Chang straightened his suit, glaring at her.

“Well, what is it?”

She looked at one of the guards who spun Chang about and planted a number fourteen size boot on his rear, sending him sprawling face first into the gravel.

“Miss Falle Crandell sends her regards,” said Elaine Dante.