Dominant Species Volume Two -- Edge Effects (Dominant Species Series) by David Coy Page B

non-sleep.
    His feet were swollen and painful the next morning, so much so he
could barely get his boots on. When he walked, it felt as if the bones in his
ankles had been fused together, and he high-stepped, his legs working
piston-like for the first few minutes. But, by the time he was ready to leave
for work, the joints in his feet had loosened up and the pain had subsided
somewhat.
    Del Geary had no idea what could cause a condition like that. He
thought he must have sprained or twisted his ankles somehow climbing up out of
the cave.
    He put the bottle of Xerc in his shirt pocket just in case he
needed some later. You never knew.

 
    6
    He
liked the looks of the place right off. There was plenty of jungle; lots of
places for things to hide—lots of unknowns. He’d been in strange places all his
adult life, and this one was the most alien. Kelly didn’t know much about
biology or the names of things, but he knew enough. This was just right. With
all that jungle and all the alien life in it, he’d have a perfect cover. No one
would suspect a thing.
    Henry Kelly stepped off the shuttle, breathed in the thick sweet
air, took a long look around and nodded his head.
    He lit a cigarette, held it up and watched the smoke rise up in a
nearly straight line in the still air.
    Nice breeze, too.
    “You gonna stand there all day?” a woman’s voice behind him said.
    “I might.”
    “Well how about getting out of the way while you’re deciding.”
    He ambled down the ramp, feeling the hostility bounce off his back
. . . The heavy air seemed to get even thicker as he got to the bottom.
    “Ain’t this some hot sonofabitch?” he said to the steward.
    “You get used to it.”
    “Where’s Rigging?”
    “What’s your ID?”
    “NWLD1088. Kelly, Henry.”
    The steward checked his manifest and made an entry. Henry hated
all the tracking and entering, deleting and checking, and computer shit that
went on. He knew that somewhere on the end of that pad’s data link was a big
fat file with his name all over it, containing every move he'd ever made, every
report he'd ever received, every job he'd ever done. Well, most of them. Lot
of good it’ll do the dumb bastards.
    “What are you looking for again?”
    “Rigging.” You dumb
bastard.
    “It’s over there—that box with the red band,” he said and pointed.
    “We all set here?” Kelly asked. “I can go?”
    The steward looked baffled. Kelly smirked and walked away. He
ignored the stairs and hopped down off the platform at a spot that pleased him
better. When he walked out into the sun, the dull heat of the red orb above
made him squint and scowl.
    This is one hot sonofabitch.
    He kicked at the chopped and dried plant material under his feet.
It was thick, spongy and almost over the tops of his boots in places. He could
see the pale and twisted sprouts of new growth coming up under the blanket of
debris. Ragged stumps, cut low to the ground, were scattered everywhere, and
some of those had long, thin fingers of sprouts starting already. He stopped
and toed a sprout with his boot. It broke off with a soft click, and he liked
the sound. He kicked off a few more.
    He walked into the Riggers office without knocking. It was as big
as office boxes went. There were several desks in it and about a dozen chairs
in rows in front of a projector screen against one wall. A long table with
chairs was at the rear. Behind it was the coffee machine. Two Riggers were
sitting at the table and eyed him when he walked in. One of them nodded at him.
The tool shed was attached to the office, and he could see the racks of tools
on the wall through the door.
    “Where’s the dispatcher?” Kelly asked.
    “Takin’ a crap,” one of the Riggers said. “You just get in?”
    “That coffee worth a damn?” Kelly asked, heading over. “Not when
Hinkle makes it,” one said and grinned stupidly at the other. “Where’d you ship in from?”
    “Home,” Kelly grinned and put out his hand. “Hank