Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  “When I heard there was an opening on your team, I applied immediately.”

  “I’m flattered, Erich. Can I call you Erich?”

  “My friends call me Ricky, sir.”

  The name grabbed Ben in the back of the throat. His nephew’s name. A sudden memory of home washed over him. Paruna, tall as his shoulder, waving golden in the fields; the warm smell of cattle in the barn; the citrus tang of orange oil burning in the lamps in the atrium to keep the millen bugs away; Nan, his brother Rion and Rion’s two boys, Kai and little Ricky . . . Ben’s only family. He swallowed hard and dragged himself back to the antiseptic aura surrounding the sickbed.

  “I’m flattered, Ricky, but you could have picked an easier job for your first assignment. You knew the rules when you signed on, so how come you broke them?”

  “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” He took a deep breath. “Mari’s family had a Clydesdale mare, a gentle giant. They were intending to breed from her. There was an accident, the mare broke a leg. When a horse breaks a leg it’s usually the end, but the family needed foals, even if the mare couldn’t work, so they asked if we could do anything. We had the mare in a sling to keep her weight off the leg, and I went every day with a portable regeneration unit. Mari was always there, always so concerned, so determined not to lose the mare. I thought . . . we thought that we were winning, but a Clydesdale is a heavy beast to spend so much time in a belly sling. There was always a chance of complications.” He shook his head and winced. “We lost the mare. Colic and a torsion. It was terrible. Mari was so upset. We were both upset. We’d invested too much time and emotional energy . . . It was only a hug . . . for comfort, but . . . it turned into more. And . . . things happened between us that shouldn’t have. It was just one time, but . . . her brothers found us and . . .”

  “You know this will go on your record?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When you’re well again, you’ll be confined to Landing. I’m sure Lee will agree that Calvin Tanaka can use you in the tank farm. No more contact with the settlers on any level. Understood?”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “You see even one settler coming and you turn and walk the other way.”

  “Walk the other way, sir. I understand.”

  He didn’t tell the kid Lee was missing. One trauma at a time was enough.

  • • •

  Cara spent the rest of the day at Ben’s side, keeping him in touch with everything that happened as it happened. By the time Ronan had established a base camp, there wasn’t time to do more than skim the edges of the mountains before they lost the light. Ben ordered the flitter crews to stand down, return to base, and be ready to search again at dawn.

  “Plan on an early start. I want to be there by first light,” he told Cara, sending her off early to get some rest.

  “What about you? Don’t you need sleep?”

  Ben had fallen into the habit of staying up late so that Cara was asleep by the time he hit his bed.

  “I’ll be along soon.”

  Cara was so edgy that she was still dozing, half in and half out of sleep when Ben came into their room. He undressed in the dark silence and slipped into his bed without noticing that she was awake. She lay there tossing thoughts of Gen and Max backward and forward with the image of Coburg’s broken face.

  Eventually Cara felt herself in that half-life between waking and dreaming, and darkness closed in. She should be able to get back to reality, but somehow, she couldn’t, and nightmares from the past played on her vulnerability.

  Ari van Blaiden wavered in front of her eyes, then solidified. He stood over Ben’s corpse. Then the picture shifted to Craike standing over a gutted riding beast on a mountainside on Felcon. Then it was Ari again, only this time Ari didn’t back off as Craike had done. His arm swung upward and his hand was steady as he leveled a bolt gun at her. She knew with dull certainty that it would cut her in half from this distance, but Ben was dead and that was the only thing she could think about—Ari’s finger tightening on the trigger. She couldn’t move fast enough. There was nowhere to run.

  Mr. van Blaiden wants to know that his secrets are safe . . .

  “Oh, shit!” Cara sat up in bed and waited for her heart to stop pounding. Her hair was plastered to her head, and she was dripping with sweat from head to toe.

  Bloody dreams. Bloody, bloody dreams! The long frustrating and worrying day had worn her out and brought her own fears tumbling back.

  When this job was over, she’d be a sitting target. She would arrive back on Chenon, in cryo, a pre-packed victim, unable to protect herself. And Ben would be just as vulnerable as she was. He was probably on the hit list, too; guilt by association. How convenient if neither of them woke up after the journey home. Ari could swing that. A bribe in the right place. A slight alteration in the dosage of the resuscitation drugs, and . . . end of problem. Even the transport home was vulnerable to attack.

  She listened for Ben’s breathing on the far side of the room and reached out with her mind. He was deeply asleep, exhausted. In all the time they’d been sharing quarters he’d never made a pass at her. If he did, would she turn him away? She couldn’t deny a certain attraction, and—dammit—she felt guilty. If it wasn’t for her, he’d have his choice of any of the single women on the psi-tech teams.

  She felt guilty, too, for not telling Ben her suspicions about Gen and Max. This Coburg-Fenec thing had been magnified out of all proportion. If Gen and Max got caught doing the same, however, the shit would really hit the fan!

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. All her unconnected fears crowded in on her. She should forget conjecture, concentrate on missing teammates, and not let the memories of Ari mess with her mind. Ronan said her memories were much closer to the surface now, but in some ways that made it harder.

  Quietly she slipped out from under the quilt and pulled off her sweat-soaked sleepsuit. She hated wearing anything in bed, but sleeping naked was not an option, though she knew that Ben did. He was as unselfconscious about his body as she would normally be, but in this artificial situation that existed between them, she was discovering unexpected hang-ups.

  Her bare feet made no sound on the cool floor, and the washroom door slid back with barely a whisper of noise. The shower’s only sound was the spray of water on skin and walls. She let it wash away some of her fears as she massaged tense muscles with soapy gel. Old-fashioned showers might not be as efficient as fresher units, but she enjoyed them more.

  She toweled her short-cropped hair dry and risked a couple of minutes under the blower, figuring that, if she hadn’t woken Ben already, he would probably sleep through the soft hiss of warm air. Feeling much better, she padded back into the bedroom quietly, trying not to disturb him. She left the shower door open and the light on a timer to provide a soft glow for a few minutes.

  She was still a little tense and she couldn’t face climbing back in between the sweaty sheets, but she didn’t want to start stripping them off right now. That really would wake Ben and he needed to be fresh for tomorrow. She pulled the covers back to air the bed and slowly and silently began to go through a relaxation routine, first with head and neck, circling round to find out where the knots were, then with back, shoulders and arms. Bending, stretching, tightening, relaxing.

  There was no sound, but instinctively she knew that Ben was awake and watching. Aware of the fact that she was still naked, she reached for her sleepsuit.

  “No. Don’t do that.”

  She stopped in mid-movement.

  “I was just enjoying the floor show. I’m not a monk, you know.” There was a catch in his voice, but it could just have been the aftereffects of deep sleep.

  A tremor of anticipation ran through her. What if she could forget Ari van Blaiden for one night? Her belly knotted with longing for Ben’s arms around her, holding back the darkness.

  “I know.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow and reached for the light, but only
turned up the globe far enough to warm the room gently.

  “Your skin looks like gold.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She tried to ignore his eyes.

  He sighed almost inaudibly. “It would have been a shame to sleep through that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for? Having a beautiful body?”

  “For not sharing it.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Neither was keeping up this marriage sham for so long. You could find someone else if it wasn’t for me.”

  “I don’t want anyone else.”

  “You don’t want me.” She said it a little too quickly.

  “I never said that.”

  “You need someone who can give you more than I can. Not just a body.”

  He was silent. He was a good man, a kind man, and he was her friend. When had that friendship become more? Had she even realized it before this moment?

  “You’ve done so much for me, and I’ve given you nothing but problems.” She moved over to his bedside and knelt down so that her face was just below the level of his, close enough to smell the warm, clean man-smell.

  “Do you want me in your bed?” she asked.

  He raised himself on one elbow, leaned over and put his arm round the back of her head, drawing her face to him. He kissed her lips very gently. “If I thought you wanted it, too, then my answer would be different. Go back to your own bed and let me get back to sleep before I change my mind.”

  She went.

  • • •

  The alert came when Ben was deeply asleep; not quite dreaming, but holding to the memory of Cara, naked with dark shadows against her lamplit skin. It brought back memories of that night on Mirrimar-14.

  Her voice shattered the image and rattled round his brain.

  “Ben. There’s a riot at the med-center. Settlers—looking for Coburg.”

  For an instant he didn’t know where he was, but then his training took over. Adrenaline surged, and his mind cleared. He rolled upright and reached for his buddysuit just as Cara was reaching for hers. The other psi-techs were awake and staggering out of their quarters in varying stages of readiness. Cara kept a mental link open for Ben.

  *Emergency posts,* he broadcast to all the psi-techs in Landing. *If rioting spreads, make sure that the base is secure. Fall back to the LV. Wenna, you know the drill.*

  *Backward, Boss. Don’t worry.*

  Ben left Wenna to hold everything together in the LV. She wouldn’t let him down.

  *Gupta, scramble. Teams one to five on the ground. The rest of you on aerial standby. Defense only. No aggression. Is that understood?*

  Gupta understood.

  Everyone knew their places and moved quickly and efficiently.

  *Anna?* Ben turned his attention to the med-center via Cara’s connection.

  As they tried to home in on Anna, they were hit by a wash of emotion.

  *Bastards.* Anna’s disjointed thoughts rang out. *Do something, for pity’s sake. Oh! Bastards!*

  Anna’s thoughts cut off abruptly. Cara stumbled and Ben almost tripped over her. They looked at each other, each deeply aware that something was terribly wrong.

  In the few minutes it took them to reach the med-center, it was all over. There were still people milling about, but the prime movers behind the riot had fled, leaving a trail of devastation and bodies.

  Too many bodies.

  Anna Govan lay where she had fallen in the entrance. Someone had tried to straighten her limbs. She looked surprised. There was a tiny entry wound in the center of her forehead, a jet pistol by the look of it, a clean shot. Someone knew how to handle the illegal weapon.

  Ben shoved down the rising wave of anger.

  The med-center doors had been smashed down. Another body was slumped close to Anna. Don Cooksey, one of Gupta’s maintenance men. He looked like he’d been felled with a blow to the head, but not before he’d pumped anesthetic darts into four rioters. They’d probably wake up, but for now Ben didn’t need to worry about them. There were a few psi-techs standing and sitting outside in a state of shock, as if they couldn’t quite believe what had happened. One of the med-techs was sobbing unashamedly while another tried to comfort him.

  Gupta’s men secured the building. The medics were already doing what they could to help the walking wounded.

  Coburg was past all help, though. The young man’s body, stripped and mutilated, dangled from a wire noose lashed to the arm of the stolen earth mover that they’d used to break down the door. A small fire burned below him, licking at his bare toes. He was past knowing.

  Cara gave a small cry and closed off their mental connection. She turned away, and he could hear her retching.

  Ben’s guts were also trying to rise and choke him at the sight of Coburg’s contorted face and bloody body, but he couldn’t turn away. This was another death to carry.

  Body count: three, he thought bleakly. I’ve killed three more. But it wasn’t just bodies, it was individuals. He hadn’t known Coburg well, but Cooksey had survived Hera-3. Not a close friend, but tied by a common experience. And Anna . . . He’d known Anna almost as long as he’d been in the service. For years she’d been talking about retiring to write up her research on mining diseases. Just one more mission, she’d told him. How many missions ago was that?

  Serafin turned away from Coburg and shifted uneasily. “I wish I hadn’t made that remark about cutting off his tackle with a rusty razor.”

  “I’ll take him down,” Gupta said.

  “No!” Ben held out his hand. “Put a guard around him and bring Lorient here as quickly as possible. Make sure Jack Mario is with him and Mrs. Lorient.”

  “Mrs. Lorient?” Gupta was surprised. “This is hardly a sight for someone like her.”

  “That’s precisely why I want her to see this,” Ben said. “She can put pressure on Lorient more subtly and surely than we can.”

  “We’ve got some of the culprits.” Gupta indicated the unconscious rioters. “None of them has any illegal weaponry, though. I’m going to enjoy talking to them when they come to.”

  “We need to know if Lorient was behind this,” Ben said. “I need proof. See if you can get me any firm evidence.” He turned to the med-techs. “Who’s senior here?”

  “I am.” Mel Hoffner looked up from where she’d been kneeling to check one of the unconscious rioters. “Until Ronan gets back anyway.”

  Oh, gods, he was going to have to tell Ronan that he’d got a promotion for the worst possible reason.

  “Are you all right, Mel?”

  “I’m not injured.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “I . . .” She looked toward Anna. “She stood between them and the rest of us, and they just shot her down.”

  “I know. I’m sorry to have to ask, but I need the ordnance from the murder weapon. You’ll need to do a post mortem. On Don Cooksey, too, though cause of death looks pretty obvious.”

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll see to it.”

  Cara came back to his side looking pale in the harsh floodlights.

  “We won’t forget this,” Ben said. “But, right now, we have to contain this violence.”

  “And what if we can’t contain it?”she asked softly.

  “We can. We have to,” Ben said. “There are three hundred lives at stake—two hundred and ninety seven, anyway. I’m not losing this team. If our situation here becomes totally untenable, we’ll pull out after the second ark arrives with the rest of the settlers. We don’t have the means to leave before then.”

  He didn’t mention the Dixie Flyer. It was a last resort. But all of a sudden he was glad it was there, not for himself, but for the possibilities it offered.

  • • •

  Cara wondered if it was Ben’s Monitor training that enabled him to appear outwardly unflustered. She knew how angry he was, but he seemed to be able to push it aside and direct Gupta’s men to
secure the area and preserve evidence: images, measurements, DNA, prints, and witness statements.

  Cara returned to her seat on the med-center steps and stared at the ground until Ben halted by her feet and waited until she looked up.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “Better than he is.” She kept her eyes averted from Coburg’s gently swinging corpse. “Or Anna or—oh, I don’t even know the name of Gupta’s man. How terrible.”

  “Don Cooksey. He was one of my Hera-3 survivors.”

  Should she be surprised that Ben still felt proprietorial about that group of individuals, as if they were his continuing responsibility.

  “A waste of a good life.” Ben dropped down onto the step beside her. “Sorry to have to ask, but when the Lorients arrive, I want you to monitor their underlying feelings if you can.”

  “Am I looking for anything in particular?”

  “A lack of surprise would be interesting.”

  “I’m on it.” She straightened her shoulders.

  “Thank you.”

  The sound of a groundcar announced the Lorients’ arrival. About time. Ben stood up and heard Cara rise behind him.

  “Ben . . .”

  He turned, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “You won’t do anything rash, will you?”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “With my life, but . . .” She inclined her head toward Coburg then Anna and Cooksey. “They’re yours and you always protect your own.”

  “I didn’t do a very good job tonight.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I told myself that after Hera-3. It didn’t help.”

  She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. He put his own hand on hers.

  “Don’t worry about me. I won’t lose it.” He took a deep breath. “You steady me. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I can hardly steady myself most of the time.”

  “You underestimate yourself.”

  • • •

  The groundcar drew to a halt, rocking gently on its antigravs before settling gently. Victor Lorient was first out of the front passenger seat. “What’s all this about, Benjamin? Your man wouldn’t say anything, only that it was important. An incident. Couldn’t it wait until morning? I—”