Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  “Not too busy to talk to you. In fact, I’ve missed talking to you. Gen and Max—well—we’ll sort it out somehow. I feel sorry for both of them, but for now I have to keep them apart. It’s for their own good.”

  Did it mean more to him because he and Gen had been lovers once?

  She shrugged. “You’re under a lot of pressure. I told you when we first started to share that there would be times when you’d need your own space. It’s not fair to you, having to share with me. You’ve got a tough time of it. Decisions to make.”

  “You being here doesn’t affect that.”

  “Gen needs someone to look after her for a while. Someone to shield her at night when her dreams spill over. I thought I’d volunteer. I can move my stuff into her room.”

  There was a long silence. She didn’t look Ben in the eyes, then Ben said, “Of course.” His voice was strangely neutral. She might have asked if she could borrow a pen.

  She turned to go.

  “Cara . . .”

  “Yes?”

  There was another long pause.

  “Nothing. I’ll see you later.”

  • • •

  Ben spent the next few days trapped behind his desk, hamstrung by administration, not daring to go too far afield in case the situation with Lorient boiled up. He worried that Cara and Ronan might have noticed the platinum in the cave, but Ronan had been concentrating on Gen, and Cara had been too emotional about the whole situation. It had been a lucky escape.

  He’d been dubious about Lorient’s decision to hide the platinum, but it seemed to be working. He was beginning to think they might even get away with it.

  He wondered how much of Lorient’s current empire building was linked to his knowledge of the platinum. Maybe he needed to have a long talk with Lorient, but just at the moment that probably wasn’t such a good idea.

  There was a new problem, another minor irritant. Saedi had returned from Timbertown and reported that Lorient thought the settlers were being shorted on grain. There was a shortage, but Saedi believed that was because some of Lorient’s camp cooks had milled some of the seed grain for flour, one of the dangers of not having proper control of the stores once supplies had been moved to Timbertown. Lorient had then checked the early logs for manifests and had got hold of the story that Ben had cooked up about the grain shortage on the ark—nothing more than an excuse to shuttle up there and get a very private message to Crowder—had added two and two and made six. It was a good job Crowder had promised an extra grain shipment. Saedi had ventured an opinion that nothing less would appease Lorient.

  Ben needed to talk to Crowder direct. He’d spoken to his Telepath, Ishmael, several times, via Cara or Cas, but, despite requests, Crowder had avoided speaking to him personally. Ben was uneasy. He’d have bet his life on Crowder. Damn it, he was betting his life on Crowder. His and every other psi-tech on the planet, and probably the settlers’ lives, too. He wanted to know that there was a transport on standby. He damn well wasn’t going to lose another psi-tech team. They were relying on him to get them home safely.

  They trusted him.

  Which was more than Cara did.

  He didn’t know what to make of Cara lately. Their good working rapport had slipped away for no reason that he could figure out. He was surprised just how much knowing the identity of Cara’s former lover disturbed him. Out on the Rim, Ari van Blaiden’s reputation, if you knew who to ask, was for ruthlessness. Now he added up Cara’s veiled references and wasn’t far off an answer that made sense.

  He wanted to say all this to Cara now, but she seemed to be slipping further away from any intimacy, physical or emotional. Perhaps she just needed more time, but dammit, hadn’t he given her enough? Maybe things would never work out between them. Maybe that had never been on Cara’s agenda the way it had been on his. Maybe he should have said something sooner instead of being so bloody understanding.

  He sighed and got up. No use chasing himself in circles. Better get on with something solid. He needed to check on the vet team in general and Calvin Tanaka in particular. Ronan might be a natural replacement for Anna, but stepping into Lee Gardham’s shoes was not going to be easy for Tanaka, who was good at his job, but lacked the people skills to be a good leader.

  He found Wenna in the ops room.

  “I’ll be across the river if anyone needs me.”

  “All right, Boss,” Wenna said.

  Ben decided to walk. The weather was warm and dry after a three-day bout of strong summer rainfall. He nodded to the pair of security guards on duty by the bridge and crossed over to the animal rearing station that they tried to refer to as the nursery instead of the tank farm, in case their words were overheard by settlers.

  Calvin Tanaka, veterinary scientist and specialist in artificial womb technology, met him at the entrance. The facility took natural livestock embryos, cryogenically stored, and reared them to maturity in tanks. It was the only way they could supply the settlers with enough domestic livestock for their gene pool.

  “Calvin, how’s it going?”

  “Good. It’s going real good.” Calvin was a lively young man, more optimistic and less cautious than his predecessor. He led Ben into the long, low riser where animal embryos at various stages of development grew in their artificial wombs, cushioned by amniotic fluid.

  “We broke our own record with this last batch of sows and I’m sure we can do even better next time.” Calvin was like a proud father. “I’ve increased their intake of—”

  “Good. Well done. No problem with the settlers?”

  “I’ve been dealing with Elder Lenten. They come over every week and take the newborns for intensive rearing. I was a bit worried about the fourteen-klick journey to Timbertown, so I keep them here for an extra week now, but the settlers are managing well. They’re very good with livestock.”

  “And how about the rest of your team? The administrative work? Not too much of a strain?”

  “I’m getting used to it. I hadn’t expected a field promotion . . . I miss Lee.”

  “So do we all.”

  • • •

  In the shadow of the deserted half-built lighthouse on the rocky headland above Seaward Base, Max Constant waited impatiently for the love of his life. He jiggled from one foot to the other, paced the length of the wall and back again, and then leaned against the block-work with a sigh.

  Serafin’s builders had raised the external skin to a height of seven meters. The tower section was already growing out of the west wall and there were plans for a lookout station on top with a lamp-room to guide the fishing fleets at night using good old-fashioned candlepower like the very first lighthouses had done.

  From here, Max had a magnificent moonlit view over two wide curving bays to the north and south. Seaward Base, spread along the southern bay below, was little more than a collection of prefabricated buildings and a row of boat sheds alongside the foundations for permanent homes. Those who had an eye to the weather were making sure that their sheds were secure even before their homes were finished. You can sleep in a boat, but you can’t catch fish in a house.

  A shadow detached itself from the larger darkness of a pile of building materials. “Don’t you know how to stand still?” Gen asked.

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to know you’d be useless in a situation where stealth was required.”

  “I can be stealthy. I’m here every night being stealthy. Six days, Gen. Six whole days. I’ve missed you so much.”

  She chuckled and pulled him into her arms. “I only got the all clear for active duty yesterday. This is the first chance I’ve had to get away without anyone noticing. I’m supposed to be in the foothills doing a timber survey, but I’ve taken a slight detour.”

  “More than slight. Will they notice?”

  “I’ll fly through the night to make up time, and I can fix the flight recorder. They might notice I’m asleep on my feet, but that’s all.”

  �
��I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.” Max buried his face in Gen’s collar and breathed in her scent.

  “I told you we’d find a way,” Gen said.

  “You did.”

  “Are they treating you well?” she asked.

  “I’m mostly working with Jon Moon.”

  “Ronan’s partner.”

  “Yeah, I think the good doctor has asked him to keep an eye on me. Anyhow, we’re charting the coastline most days. He’s good to work with: fair, even-tempered. I’m actually learning a lot. If you were here with me, it would be perfect.”

  “You and me and baby makes three.”

  “What?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” The cogs of his brain whirred without connecting to anything.

  “Pregnant. I’m keeping it. Do you mind?”

  Did he? A flash of how family life with Gen might be lit up his imagination and then all the reasons why that could never happen crowded in and snuffed it out.

  “Mind?”

  She pulled away from him. “I shouldn’t have told you. It doesn’t change anything, does it?”

  “Yes. Yes it does.” He pulled her back into his arms. “Do I mind that you’re carrying my child? Of course I don’t mind. It’s . . . wonderful, amazing. Do I mind that we might never be able to bring our child up together? Yes, I mind that. I want us to be together forever, but I don’t know how I can make that happen.”

  “I do, or at least I think I do. We have to get Ben on our side. When the second ark comes—”

  Hope stirred? “I can go home with you?”

  “Not in cryo. The pods we have are calibrated for psi-techs. Lorient didn’t want an easy way off planet for anyone. This was designed as a one-way trip, but the ark crew doesn’t travel in cryo. It would be a boring journey. Nine months staring at the inside of a tiny cabin. With me. And Baby.”

  “I don’t care how boring it is. What’s nine months compared to a lifetime?”

  “I’ll talk to Ben when the time is right. In the meantime, keep a low profile.”

  “I’ll not put a foot wrong. Promise. The psi-techs will find me all cooperation from now on.”

  “You’ll have to settle for visits when I can. I’ll try and do it with permission next time.”

  “Soon?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I do love you.”

  “I know.”

  • • •

  Even though she’d moved out of their shared quarters, Cara was still working with Ben. It had been ten days now and she’d observed a definite pattern. She’d started to keep a log of what was missing from the reports, and it was obvious, even to her, that Ben was leaving out a proportion of heavy metals, anything that might lead a geologist to suspect platinum. It was a good cover-up. She couldn’t expect confirmation of that from the rest of the team. Youen Biggs was so wrapped up in his search for native wildlife that he might as well have had his head up his backside and Mohan Razdan, their token settler, was a nice guy, but a real rookie. Cara privately thought that’s why Ben kept him on their team in particular.

  Ben probably thought he was safe. She’d never told him about Felcon. He didn’t know she’d had experience—a bad experience—on a platinum planet. He probably figured she wouldn’t be able to recognize platinum.

  Wrong, Commander Benjamin.

  She was watching him. Waiting for him to make a mistake.

  Something, maybe loyalty or maybe fear of finding out what she didn’t want to know, prevented her from discussing it with anyone else, and fear of finding out that she was right stopped her from confronting Ben. Instead she watched, helpless, as he faithfully mapped the sparse iron and tin deposits and charted areas which would yield fossil fuels, but ignored the greatest find of all.

  She knew that the settlers probably wouldn’t want to make use of it now, but there would come a time, a thousand years hence, perhaps, when the planet would be open again. The Trust, or its descendant companies, would make contact and look for trade agreements and profits. Then the platinum could give the native Olyandans a very nice starting point for their interplanetary financial security. But only if they knew it was there. Only if it was there! Was Ben planning to sell the information to some mining corp with a rip-it-out mentality?

  This was just the sort of situation Ari would have taken advantage of. Natural resources to be plundered—and no one would notice for at least a thousand years. It was obscene. It was immoral. Was Ben planning a similar scheme? Wait until the last minute, then rip out the platinum and—good-bye Olyanda?

  Cara had trusted Ben with her life. She owed him more than the nagging suspicion that seeped like a fog through the dark alleys of her mind. Why couldn’t she trust him? That question died half-formed. She had trusted once; bitten the fruit already and found half a worm.

  After two long days charting the estuary, Cara lay in her little bed, wanting desperately to be able to close her eyes and let sleep take her somewhere safe. Ben’s early morning starts were beginning to tell on her. They’d be up at first light, working from dawn until dusk and spending the evening hours logging their worksheets before falling into bed, exhausted.

  She found sharing a room with Gen irksome. To be fair, Gen was away from base more than she was here now that Ronan had given her the all clear to return to duties. She’d transferred to contact work and was monitoring the wagon trains heading down toward the southern marshes. She carried overnight gear and often stayed away for several days at a time. However, when she was home, she was a noisy roommate. Cara had learned to sleep through her nighttime ramblings and sleep-talk, and tactfully kept quiet each time she got out of her bunk for a pee, but this time something was really amiss.

  By the sounds coming out of the washroom Gen was not well. Cara kept quiet, knowing that the last thing she wanted when she was throwing up was someone inquiring solicitously if she was all right. However, a crash and a thump brought Cara reluctantly out of her covers. Gen was in a heap, naked on the floor in a sorry state, kneeling over the pan. Cara put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, more as a gesture of support than anything else and, when she had finished throwing up, brought her a clean moist towel and a cup of water.

  Gen was a mess. Her face was gray and drawn, its usual golden undertones sunk into sallowness, and her eyes were pink-rimmed. Cara helped her up. Gen’s hands went to cover her naked breasts. It wasn’t a gesture of modesty; her nipples were dark, standing out against her light brown skin. Cara and Gen had shared a room for long enough for Cara to recognize the changes in Gen’s body, the heaviness in her breasts, the slight thickening of her waist. She put her hand out to Gen’s belly.

  “When’s it due?”

  Gen’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not sure.”

  “How? Aren’t you clipped?”

  Gen shook her head. “I was in a relationship once . . . and I had it reversed, you know, because . . . and then it didn’t work out. I’ve been taking shots ever since.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “And I decided to stop because . . . well haven’t you ever felt . . . you know . . . ?”

  Cara handed Gen a wrap, feeling more like her mother than someone her own age. “I’ve never found anyone I wanted to have children with.” The thought of Ari as a father made Cara shudder.

  “One day you might. I did. I never thought it would be a deadhead, but so help me, I love Max and I want his baby even if I can’t have him.”

  “You’ll have to tell Ben.”

  “What? No! I can’t. Not yet.”

  “You’ll have to.”

  “No! Please, Cara. Don’t tell him. Please. Promise.”

  “You won’t be able to hide it.”

  “I’ll tell him when the time is right. Promise.”

  “When?”

  “When I’m ready. When I can.”

  “Make it sooner, not later.”

  • • •

  “You wanted to see me, Director?” Ja
ck Mario hovered in the doorway. “I’ve just spent a very frustrating half-hour trying to make the radio work. I don’t suppose you’d change your mind about Saedi Sugrue?”

  Victor stared at him until Jack looked away. Was Jack getting too fond of the woman? Psi-techs were dangerous, even to someone as stalwart as the redoubtable Jack. But he had more to worry about right now. “Have you seen the grain figures?”

  “Yes, of course, They’re all in order.”

  “Have all the sacks weighed. They may be underweight.”

  “I’m sure they’re not.”

  “I saw Benjamin’s face when I reminded him that there were thousands of us and only three hundred of them. He didn’t like it.”

  “Confrontational politics are not the way forward, Director. Please don’t push the psi-techs.”

  If the bastards pushed him, he’d damn well push them back.

  “Not scared of them, are you? There’s no need to be. I’ve got my followers. Remember who’s boss here, Jack. The people have put me in charge, and they’ll keep me here.”

  “Is that what it’s about, power?”

  “Personal power? No. Far from it. It’s about responsibility. If I thought I could trust anyone else to keep the psi-techs in their place, I’d resign tomorrow. I’d move Danny and Rena to a settlement by the ocean and take up fishing.” He shook his head. “You’re all too soft. You see them as human.”

  “Did you call me, Dad?” Danny pushed the outer office door open.

  “No, son, I didn’t.” Victor’s voice softened. “But now that you’re here, you could go down to the kitchens and get us a cup of coffee.”

  “I haven’t got time, Dad. I’m going up in a flitter with Mrs. Benjamin.”

  Danny turned and vanished out of the room.

  “Danny!” Lorient was at the door in seconds, his heart thumping. “Danny! Come here. Where did you say you were going?”

  “For a flitter ride with Mrs. Benjamin.”

  “I told you to stay away from Landing.”

  “Mom said it would be all right.”

  “Your mother?” Rena had surprised him lately, making decisions he would never have expected. She’d given him a hard time over . . . certain things that had happened. He wanted to overrule her, but he found himself worrying about the gap that had opened up between them.