“Hey,” Owens said, patting Chhun on his armored shoulder. “Thanks. You and your team. You’re the best.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Silence fell in the cockpit as the ship continued to make its way through the swirling sandstorms. The captain probably didn’t feel like talking, but Owens thought he’d give one more try at conversation. Just in case. In case Chhun needed it.
“How’s your team?”
“Operational,” said Chhun. “They’re pros.”
“You know what I mean.”
Chhun looked down. “Yeah. They’ll be all right. Just need a little time.”
“And how about you?” Owens asked. “How are you?”
Chhun looked Owens straight in the eye. His face was unreadable. Owens felt like he was staring into the depths of the man’s soul, and was none the wiser for it.
The ship left the atmosphere, and was plunged into the still quiet of space.
“Ready to KTF, sir,” said Chhun as he turned back to look at the countless stars. “It’s what I do.”
Owens nodded.
“Sir,” said one of the pilots. “I have Mercutio.”
“Put ’em up.”
A holo-image of the legion commander appeared on screen. Somehow Keller looked more tired… older than the last time Owens had seen him. Even though it hadn’t been that long.
Keller smiled. “Glad to see you, Ellek.”
“Thank you, sir. Victory Squad and Captain Chhun did outstanding work. So did all the other leejes.”
The commander’s face was puzzled. “Other leejes?”
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one wrongfully imprisoned. I’ve got a shuttle full of leejes—real leejes—who were tossed away on Herbeer like garbage. All of it outside the Legion command structure.”
“Points, sir,” said Chhun, an edge to his voice. “All of this is from points.”
Keller sighed. “Then… it was worse than I imagined.”
“We have to do something about this sir,” Owens said, before quickly adding, “respectfully.”
Keller nodded, and some of the fire that Owens knew in the man flared behind his eyes. “You’re right. Get yourself back to Mercutio. It’s time for the Legion to put the House of Reason in its place.”
Owens smiled. “Yes, sir.”
The transmission ended, and the pilot eased the shuttle into hyperspace. Brilliant white stars elongated into spears of light all around them.
The day’s fight was over.
The next war had begun.
Epilogue
The Planet Wayste
Ravi cycled through the Six’s landing sequence as they alit just outside the minuscule starport of Bacci Cantara. Backwater worlds like this one didn’t require that a starship land and register in a docking bay. There wasn’t the infrastructure. Spacers just landed where they felt like. So long as you didn’t block access or land in the middle of a street, no one paid any mind. And the Six looked like just another freighter. The townsfolk just went on living, sparing little more than a quick glance to see if the newly arrived starship wasn’t one they’d been expecting. No one came out to see if the ship needed charges or maintenance.
Keel looked out of his window at the tiny dustball excuse of a planet. “What time is the meeting supposed to be?”
Ravi, who had just killed the repulsors and initiated the ship’s cool-down, looked at the captain from beneath an arched brow out of the corner of his eye. “On arrival.”
Keel patted the blaster on his hip in a distracted rhythm. “And how much did we have to pay?”
“Ten thousand credits,” said Ravi.
“I guess punctuality was extra,” Keel mumbled.
“We are technically sixteen minutes early. I thought you would like to put on the Wraith’s armor.”
Keel stood up. “No, we’ll be enough of an oddity once we get going. I’d rather not add to it by looking like a kill team commando.”
Ravi nodded.
The captain exited the cockpit. “I’m gonna wait outside. How’s the air?”
“Hot and dry,” Ravi said with a shrug. “It is a desert.”
Keel turned and gave Ravi a condescending look. “I’m glad you’re here again to tell me these things. I mean, are there any particles that ought to be filtered? Sand lung may be the lot for the suckers who live here, but that doesn’t mean I have join ’em.”
“The air quality is fine.” Ravi stood and followed Keel into the Six’s hold. “Captain, we have been pursuing this location for some time. And now, we are here…”
“Yeah?”
“And I am wondering why in all that time we have not discussed…” Ravi left the statement open, but Keel didn’t bite. So Ravi continued. “Obviously my disappearance and return and all the many other things are quite out of line with our usual relationship. I know you have noticed. You are not one to miss these things. But I do not understand why you have not broached the subject.”
Keel adjusted his gun belt. “Because I don’t care, Ravi. I knew you weren’t a simple hologram for a long time, and I chalked it up to you being some ethereal alien race. I’ve seen my share of stranger things out on the edge.”
“You do not care about why I do not need the bots to render me in spite of—”
“I don’t care about anything right now beyond finding my crew.” Keel walked to the ramp release. “After that, we can sort out who owes who what.”
Ravi smiled. “I am encouraged by the care you are showing for them.”
Keel paused. “Yeah, well. We’ll see about that, too.”
He hit the ramp’s drop button and disappeared in a white cloud of vapor and vented gases. He did care. Especially about Leenah. Perhaps only about Leenah, stupid as that was. There was a part of him—the secret part known only to himself and whatever higher being possessed omniscience—that didn’t think he’d have left the kill team if it weren’t for her.
It was all so dumb. A liability. Risking his life for…
Keel didn’t supply the word. He didn’t want to.
He wavered at the top of the ramp, understanding that this was as good a metaphor as any for what his life had become. He could turn around and get back into the cockpit—make his life his own. Or… he could step outside and acknowledge that, in spite of what he’d told himself over and over these last seven years, the galaxy wasn’t just him and his blaster for hire.
He walked down the ramp.
The air on Wayste wasn’t any more or less arid than the air of any other desert he’d visited in his travels. There was a warm breeze that straddled the line between comfortable and too hot. Probably a fall or spring wind, Keel wasn’t sure what season it currently was on the planet. Everything smelled of dirt, like baked mud. The ground was parched and cracked, as though it had once—ages ago—been a lake.
Ravi followed Keel and stood by his side. The two men shared a silent vigil, watching for the start of their meeting.
“So,” Keel said casually, breaking the stillness. “What, exactly, are you?”
A smile formed at the corners of Ravi’s mouth. He gave a soft laugh. “Hoo hoo. I thought you did not care to know? Imagine my captain, Captain Keel, asking about me.”
“Just making conversation. Don’t let it go to your head or your turban won’t fit anymore.”
“Hoo hoo hoo,” laughed Ravi. “There is a long version, which we do not now have time for, and a shorter version. The shorter version is—”
Ravi didn’t get the chance to give even that version. A man wrapped in what looked like long rags hailed them from the edge of the town.
“Ahoy!” yelled the man.
Keel raised a hand in greeting. “Yeah, hi,” he mumbled, and then waved for the man to meet him at the ship.
The man turned and motioned, and four men carrying archaic shovels and pickaxes followed him toward the Indelible VI.
“That’s what ten thousand credits gets us, huh?” Keel asked no one in particular.
Ravi took it upon himself to answer. “I suspect the cost was to find those willing, and not for any particular skill. It is not as though we have asked for the most respectable job to be done.”
“People are too picky,” Keel said.
The crew of workers drew within ten meters. Keel didn’t see any blasters on them, but with all the layers of fabric that constituted the local dress, one could be hidden anywhere. He kept his hand hanging close to his own weapon, just far enough away so as not to make it look like he was ready to draw.
“Honored, Captain,” said the leader of the group, giving a low bow. He sounded as though he was trying, with only limited success, to shed whatever edge-born accent he carried in favor of the unaccented speech of the core used in every holoprogram or newsfeed. “It is with great pleasure that I, Gorjut son of Creez—”
“Yeah, shut up,” said Keel. “And stop bowing or you’ll draw attention.”
Gorjut blushed red with embarrassment and quickly straightened himself. “I apologize, Captain.”
Keel looked at the dirty-faced workers standing behind Gorjut. They looked as poor as they did uncomfortable. But at least they seemed capable of digging a deep hole. “Well, let’s get started.”
Gorjut wrung his hands. “Captain, that’s… not possible. We must wait for nightfall.” The Wayste native leaned in close, assaulting Keel with a breath that smelled as though he had dredged the seafloor with his tongue. Every tooth was gray and decayed. “The people… they will notice if it is before the sun sets.”
Keel let his shoulders slump in frustration. “How long until the sun sets?”
“Four hours and eighteen minutes, standard time,” Ravi said.
Gorjut eyed the navigator suspiciously, and gave a slow nod. “Yes, that’s about right. You can eat and drink in Gulliver’s Barrow. It’s where most off-worlders go when shipping into Bacci.”
Keel nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
He noticed that Gorjut shifted uncomfortably in place, rubbing the side of his jaw as if in worry.
“What’s on your mind, Gorjut son of Creez?” Keel asked.
“Ah! The honored captain notices my plight.” Gorjut swept his arms toward his workers. “We are simple people, and the credits needed to sup in a spaceport are not easy to come by. Perhaps we can join you and spend an advance of the sum promised?”
“No,” Keel said definitively.
“But…” stammered Gorjut, “I was told I would receive—”
“You’ll get your half payment once you hand us the exact location,” Keel explained. “The other half after you finish our little excavation.”
“But then why would you say—”
“No?” said Keel. “Because I’m not looking for a night on the town. If I head to Gilligan’s Barrow or whatever it’s called, I’m not going to be forced to speak—or worse, listen—to anyone. Fathom?”
Gorjut lowered his head. “Forgive me. It was beneath my station to suggest that we dine together.”
Keel rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother,” he mumbled to himself. “How about the location, Gorjut?”
Gorjut son of Creez reached into the ragged folds of his robes.
“Ninety-six percent,” said Ravi.
Keel knew his partner was telling him the odds were good that Gorjut’s hand would not return with a blaster in it. Sure enough, the grimy hand re-emerged holding an ancient-looking datapad. The relic was at least a quarter-inch thick.
Gorjut handed it to Keel. “The map.”
Keel held it out to Ravi, who gave a fixed look of concentration.
“I have it,” Ravi said.
Keel nodded and tossed a credit chit to Gorjut. The man snatched it out of the air like a froh’gga nabbing an insect with its sticky tongue.
“That chit contains your up-front payment,” Ravi said.
Keel tossed the datapad at Gorjut, whose eyes were greedily surveying the credit chit. “And here’s this.”
Gorjut wasn’t expecting that. He fumbled an attempt to juggle the datapad and the chit. Both items fell onto the parched planet’s surface.
“We’ll meet you at the spot an hour after dark,” Keel called as he walked past the workmen toward the town of Bacci Cantara. “You can dig under the lights of my ship.”
***
Keel burped for what must have been the hundredth time since returning from the cantina. The local cuisine was heavy, greasy, and didn’t seem eager to leave Keel’s stomach.
“Excuse me,” he said to his navigator. “I’m assuming you can smell?”
“I am aware of a multitude of senses and dimensions,” Ravi said. “You are excused.”
Keel leaned back in his seat in the Six’s cockpit. It was heated, and felt nice. He would have to go outside soon, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Desert nights were miserable in a whole different way than the scorching days. “You told me over dinner that you were sure that everyone was still all right.”
“I said I was sure Prisma would be all right,” corrected Ravi. “And then you changed the discussion to Captain Chhun and the likelihood of his mission’s success, and I spent the rest of the time outlining probabilities for infiltration and escape from Herbeer while you provided variables. And then you asked about the average cost of luxury corvettes in the core compared to the cost of similar models in the mid-core. And then the food came, and we stopped talking.”
“Right,” Keel said absently. “How do you know? Have you… did you go and… see them? Like you said you did before?”
Ravi nodded somberly. “I did not. Now is not the time to see Prisma. Not yet. I will see her next when you are at my side, Captain.”
Keel swallowed. “Sure. But Leenah… hell, even Garret…”
“I do not know.” Ravi’s eyes were sad, twinkling in the darkness of the cockpit. The ship was powered off. “I hope so.”
The biologic sensors gave a purring hum of warning. Ravi looked down at the display as it powered on to give its report. “The work crew arrives.”
“And… this will work?” asked Keel, already rising from his seat and donning his heavy jacket.
“We cannot get close enough any other way,” Ravi confirmed.
Keel pulled his fur-lined hood over his head and hit the Six’s ramp release. “Let’s get it over with, then.”
***
Gorjut and his workmen were huddled together and waiting by a landing strut. Evidently, the clothing they wore in the day was the same they wore to fend off the chill of a desert night. The garments didn’t look to be doing a very good job, judging from the way they shivered.
Oh well, a few hours digging would warm them right up.
“Okay,” Keel said, clapping his hands together. “Ready to get rich? Start digging.”
The lights of the Indelible VI flooded the area, causing the workers to shield their eyes and pull down their polarized goggles. The locals all seemed to have a pair. Probably to fend off dust storms.
Gorjut toed a circle in the dusty earth. “Let’s start here, men. Got a feeling about this spot.” The foreman turned and lined up his thumb with the massive black shadow of a building—now decrepit and exposed to the elements.
Keel put his hands on his hips and leaned toward the man. “What do you mean, ‘good feeling’?”
“Ah, well, see,” began Gorjut. His breath was just as foul as ever, but also carried an odor reminiscent of Keel’s dinner, which made the captain’s stomach do a flip. “The location on the datapad… it’s an approximation. We’re close… it just might take a few holes.”
“Wonderful,” said Keel. He found a landing strut to lean against. “Well, hurry up. We don’t have all night.”
Ravi joined the captain. “Tonight is likely all we have.”
***
“I found it! I found it!”
The excited shouting woke Keel with a start. He pushed away from the Six’s front landing gear and looked around, trying to gather some situational awareness. He saw Ra
vi standing with two of the workers while the spades of the other two men’s shovels flung dirt from deep down in a hole. Gorjut was curled up, snoring loudly out in the open.
The predawn light was casting a pink-purple glow across the desert’s horizon. The nearness of the morning made Keel jump up and run over to Gorjut. He woke the man with a quick kick to the rump. “Not paying you to sleep!”
Keel continued to the edge of the pit, his momentum nearly sending him tumbling inside off-balance. One of the workers grabbed his arm to steady him. Keel nodded thanks and said, “I’m all right.”
Gorjut joined them. Everyone peered down into the excavated hole, which was nearly two and a half meters deep. A rectangular box made of some sort of hard-looking desert wood sat at the bottom, only halfway visible, the rest of it still buried.
“This will take time to dig out the rest of the way,” said Gorjut. He issued commands in his native tongue, and the workmen still above ground climbed their way down by way of a dirt slope to join their compatriots. “I tell them to dig quickly, before the sun rises, honored Captain.”
Keel looked to the growing light and then to Ravi. “You think this is it?”
“The probability is likely, yes.”
Gorjut made shook his hands with fingers splayed. “This is it, I am sure of it!”
Keel looked down into the pit. The men were brushing away dirt from the top of the wooden box. Gently. They formed piles and then carefully scooped them away. They were being too slow. He looked back at the growing light… and jumped inside the pit.
“Outta my way,” he ordered. “We don’t have time to be all delicate.”
Dropping to a knee, Keel began raking away the dirt around the corners of the box. He turned and looked at the workers, who had halted their progress, stunned. “Get over here and give me a hand!”
None of them moved.
“We must show the proper care,” urged Gorjut from his position topside, looking down into the pit. The foreman looked to Ravi for support, but Ravi only shrugged.
Keel displaced enough dirt to a grip on the wooden crate with both hands. He lifted with all his strength, until he felt that he might strain his back if he didn’t relent. Panting, he looked to one of the laborers and held out a hand. “Gimme that pickaxe you’re holding.”
Prisoners of Darkness Page 24
