Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. His skin had taken on a gray sheen. He’d shared the nausea and the blackness. Halved the effect, helped her to bring memories from behind the block.

  “The handpad. You’ve got information that could wipe him out.”

  She nodded.

  “He knows about it?”

  She nodded again.

  “And you think he was close to catching up with you on Mirrimar-14?”

  “Craike was on the station.”

  “It wasn’t Craike who caught up with you in the cargo tunnels?”

  “No, that was one of Ari’s agents who tried to muscle in on Craike’s territory. Maybe he thought he’d get a promotion.”

  “You think Craike killed him?”

  “Probably. His throat was cut. It’s Craike’s style. He likes blood.” She started to shake.

  “It’s all right now. You’ve gone as far as you need to. I understand. Everything.”

  “Ari . . .”

  “I understand about Ari, too.”

  “Ben, it’s not that I don’t feel for you. If we’d met before . . .”

  “We didn’t meet before, and there are no what ifs. We’re in the here and now, and Ari’s history.”

  “If only . . .”

  “If you want it to be you and me, it can be.”

  She leaned into him and relaxed. Maybe it could. “I’ll work on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ESCALATION

  Cara felt a new optimism as they flew back to Landing, but she knew immediately, when they landed, that something was wrong. As they docked in the flitter bay, Wenna came to greet them personally.

  “Sorry, Boss. You’re not going to like this. Just got the message on mechanicals, from Lorient himself, that you’re wanted in Timbertown for a section head meeting.”

  “What’s it about this time?”

  “Officially or unofficially?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Officially I don’t know. Unofficially I’d say it’s a lot to do with the fact that Gen Marling has pretty well told everybody that she’s pregnant.”

  Cara felt her heart thumping. How could Gen be so stupid?

  Ben cursed under his breath. “Has she named the father?”

  “No, and she says she’s not going to. But there are a lot of people making intelligent guesses.”

  Cara caught Ben’s look, and they bolted for Ben’s office where there was privacy. His emotions were near the surface and she could read him quite clearly. He was angry, but he was also genuinely amazed. “Why? Why tell everyone now? Why couldn’t she just keep it quiet for a bit longer.” He looked at Cara.

  “Fear, I think.”

  “Fear?”

  “She didn’t want to lose the baby. She was frightened you’d press her to have a termination.”

  “What does she think I am? It’s her body. Why am I surrounded by people who don’t trust me?”

  Cara put both hands up, palms outward. “Don’t count me. I’m totally trusting. Now, at least.”

  “I don’t know how we’re going to make the best of this situation. Who can we trust in the Seaward Base team?”

  “Ronan’s partner, Jon Moon.”

  “Good. Use Ronan and Jon to get a message through to Constant. Tell him to take a break and go on a long camping trip. I won’t have a repeat of the Coburg affair. There are times when I think Max Constant doesn’t deserve to keep his balls, but I’m damned if Lorient’s going to pull a stunt like that again!”

  The communication only took seconds. “Done.”

  “Dammit. Where’s Gen?”

  “I’ll see if I can find her.” Gen wasn’t difficult to find, but she was barely coherent. Cara pulled out of the conversation as soon as she’d gleaned the basics. “She’s in Timbertown. Lorient’s got her, but she’s not been harmed. She’s freaked out in case Lorient goes after Max. Do you want me to patch you through to her?”

  “Just tell her we’re on our way and not to give away any information at all. Nothing. Just wait until we get there.”

  • • •

  By the time they reached the hall in Timbertown the other section heads were gathering. Cara pushed her way in with them.

  Victor Lorient looked like a man under considerable stress; gaunt face, deep-set eyes, prominent nose, and his skin had lost its bloom. Behind him, Rena Lorient sat stiffly in her upright chair. She’d developed frown lines and her hair had faded to the color of old ice in just a few months. She’d soon look like Lorient’s mother instead of his wife. Jack Mario, sitting next to Rena, shuffled uncomfortably and looked anywhere except at the eyes of the assembled psi-techs.

  Lorient glowered at them. “I am aware that you all try to get away with telling me as little as possible about your activities.”

  “You have our daily reportsss, Director Lorient.” Marta rose to the bait.

  “Red herrings, Miss Mansoro. Red herrings! So many reports that if I were to spend my time checking them I’d only be halfway through before you were all off planet.”

  *It’s taken him quite a while to work that one out.* Marta had not found her task here easy. She fought a constant battle to balance demand for resources against supply and had to cope with the added burden that Lorient called her in regularly to complain that essential stores were being diverted from settler to psi-tech. She couldn’t disguise her scaly skin, but she always wore her buddysuit closed all the way up her neck to cover her gills when visiting Broccoliburg.

  Lorient continued, “Another flagrant breach of the charter has come to my attention.”

  “Victor! We don’t know that for sure.” Rena Lorient’s voice was quite sharp.

  “Then why won’t she say who the father is? We all know she was marooned for several days with the settler member of her crew.”

  “I’m sure that I have no need to tell you that we’re talking about your Miss Marling. Perhaps we could ask her to join us now.”

  Gen was ushered in. She was tight-lipped and had a what-have-I-done-now? kind of expression. She saw Cara, and her mouth twitched in a failed attempt at a smile. Cara nodded back, not daring to take her attention from the link she was holding open.

  “Miss Marling. I would remind you that as an employee of the Trust you signed an agreement not to breed while on active service and also for this mission you signed a contract expressly forbidding sexual relationships between settler and technical crew.”

  “That’s correct.” Her voice was strong enough to carry to the assembled section heads and the hangers-on from the administrative staff.

  “Then can I ask, just to clarify matters, you understand, whether you are, indeed, pregnant?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  He scowled. “Not unless your baby is fathered by a settler. If you won’t divulge the father’s identity, you must be trying to protect him.”

  “It’s a breach of her employment contract,” Ben said. “A matter entirely for the Trust to deal with. There’s no law that says any woman has to reveal the father of her baby.”

  “There can be by tomorrow.” Lorient tried to stare Ben down. “This is a special case. Trust Law is hardly applicable here. It’s Olyanda law that counts.” He turned to Gen. “When you crashed your airbus some time ago, you were left alone with Max Constant, the settler assigned to your crew, yes?”

  “That doesn’t make Max the father of my baby.”

  “Then who is?”

  *Shall I offer to do a DNA test?* Ronan asked.

  *Not a good plan unless you’re willing to fake the result,* Cara replied.

  *Any bright ideas?* Serafin asked.

  *Not unless you can come up with a psi-tech father before Lorient hauls Constant’s ass here.* Ben’s answer was blunt. *How about you, Serafin, do you fancy fatherhood?*

  *Let’s be realistic, who would go for a shriveled old pruneface like me, ’cept, perhaps, Suzi? How about Calvin?*

  *My wife would
kill me.* Calvin Tanaka was married to one of the tech team’s vets.

  *Dammit. I don’t need this.* Cara caught a private thought before Ben’s broadcast one, *Cara, play this for all its worth now, and we’ll straighten it all up later.*

  “Well, Miss Marling. We’re all waiting.” Lorient loomed over Gen, but she held out against his bluster.

  Ben cleared his throat, “No need to get heavy, Director. Gen is protecting someone, but it isn’t Max Constant, it’s me.” The announcement fell like an unexpected summer storm. There was a surprised hush, and then everyone seemed to be talking at once. “Thanks, Gen. It was a nice try.” Ben walked up and put one arm protectively around her shoulder. “Sorry, Cara. I wish you hadn’t found out like this.” He looked across to Cara, who stood somewhat stunned. She hadn’t quite got his drift, but now she understood. It could be worth two lives. Play it for all it’s worth. Right.

  “You bastard, Benjamin!” Cara spat out the words. “And as for you . . . I thought you were my friend.” Gen reeled back and began to protest her innocence, but Cara saw Ben’s arm tighten round her shoulders.

  “Is this true? Can you prove it?” Lorient almost growled.

  “I don’t have a certificate if that’s what you mean,” Ben snapped, “But if you must know, Miss Marling has a rather fetching little mole on her left breast,”

  “And—er—Ben’s got a small scar near his groin.” Gen took her cue.

  “You brazen bitch!” Cara squared up to them. “And as for you, Ben Benjamin, a scar a little further over might have done more good!” *Duck.* She swung her arm and let fly with a resounding backhand, but instead of avoiding it, he took it on the jaw.

  She didn’t wait to see what happened next. Holding her jarred knuckles with her left hand, she marched, stiff-backed, out of the room and down a corridor and only stopped when she was well out of earshot. Her breath was coming in sobbing gulps and she was so well into the part of the wronged wife that she found she felt slightly hysterical and had tears trickling down her face. She leaned against the wall. It was cold and hard and she smacked her head into it. She hadn’t expected to feel like this. She knew it was only a sham, but then so was their marriage. She felt as though she had lost something precious which she’d only just begun to find. Rubbing her eyes clear, she slipped quietly out of the door and into the bustle of the city still raw with building scars.

  • • •

  Max would have liked Seaward Base if only Gen had been by his side.

  He pulled mapping duties with Jon Moon, and when he proved not altogether incompetent for a deadhead, Jon started to schedule him in with some of the other psi-techs. The settlers steered clear of him, unsure of his loyalties, but that was fine. He didn’t much like hanging around with settlers, not since he heard about the poor bastard they’d butchered. Yeah, okay, maybe they weren’t all bad, but he couldn’t trust any of them. If they found out about him and Gen, he’d be toast.

  He concentrated on keeping a low profile, doing his job to the best of his ability and not pissing off any of the psi-techs. It seemed to be working. He had an easy relationship with Jon, and Rufus Greenstreet had actually asked for Max to be assigned to his mapping run.

  Gen wasn’t likely to appear again any time soon, but Max made a habit of walking up to the lighthouse every evening, watching it grow, block by block.

  The roof trusses were in place now, thanks to a building gang newly arrived from Landing. Gen had sent him an honest-to-goodness letter in the courier pouch and he’d read it so often that he thought the ink might fade.

  I’m going to ask Ben about the return trip soon. Right now it’s not a good time, but I want you to know how much I love you. I’ll try and get a flight to Seaward soon. Please be patient. You’re always in my thoughts.

  He could feel the letter, warm in his shirt pocket, as they returned to Seaward. Rufus let him land the flitter in the shallows of the bay. He’d never done a water landing before, but Rufe talked him through it and he dropped the two-man machine right on target to settle into the bobbing waves, floats deployed.

  The sight of Jon Moon running across the beach toward them, his face deadly serious, cut short Rufe’s congratulations. They popped the bubble top, and both men jumped down and splashed the few strides to shore.

  “What’s up?” Rufe called out when Jon got into range.

  “Message for Max.”

  Max’s first thought was that something had happened to Gen. His pulse began to pound.

  “Is . . .” He almost asked if Gen was all right, but the reason for his transfer was still a secret, or he thought it was. You could never tell with psi-techs. Benjamin had told him not to sound off about it, and no one had mentioned anything.

  “Is everything all right at Landing?” he managed to say.

  “As far as I know, but there’s a message to tell you to take yourself off for a camping trip for a few days and don’t make contact with any settler groups. Have you been up to something you shouldn’t have?”

  “Me?” Max did his best to shrug, but his shoulders had knotted.

  “Take an emergency pack out of the flitter and here, some supplies. Rendezvous at Hewart Point seven days from now. If it’s not me or Rufe in a two-man flitter with more supplies or a recall, take off and don’t look back. You’re on your own.”

  Max didn’t ask any questions. Guessing that it was something to do with Gen wasn’t the biggest leap of logic he’d ever made.

  He could feel her letter in his shirt pocket right now, so even though he couldn’t read it, he was comforted by the words.

  Rufe shoved a pack into Max’s arms and Max shouldered it, knowing it contained an all-weather sleep-sack, single shelter, and a compact kit that contained everything from fishing hooks and a knife to water purification granules and a basic med kit.

  A sudden memory of the crash, dragging Gen out of the wreckage, finding Lee dead, hurling up his last meal, retrieving the kits, starting to think about what to do next, and common sense kicking in. Shelter, first aid, water, food. . . . Survive until someone found them.

  Now he’d better hope that he could survive without someone finding him.

  “Thanks, Jon. Rufe. See you in seven days.”

  He headed up the path toward the lighthouse. The sun had just fallen into the sea and painted the cloud-fingered sky salmon. He had an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before it was too dark to see where he was putting his feet. How far could he get?

  The construction gang had packed it in for the night. Max skirted a stack of timbers cut for purlins. Above his head the roof trusses soared against the afterglow like dinosaur ribs.

  A shadow moved. Max’s heart skipped a beat. “Gen?”

  “Max Constant?” The voice was male and low.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Get him, boys.”

  Three figures came out of the darkness. Max was buffeted to one side, then the other and something flung over his head. His hands were yanked behind him, and he hit the ground with lung-emptying force.

  He started to yell, but the head covering was pulled roughly back and a rag stuffed into his mouth. He hardly had time to see the face of the man leaning over him, but in the moonlight all he knew for sure was that he had light-colored hair. Then the bag was shoved back over his head, and he was yanked to his feet. The rattle of a bridle and the stomp of a hoof told him that his assailants had come on horseback. Some of Lorient’s fundies?

  With a sick lurch of his stomach he remembered Gen’s letter in his shirt pocket. It was as good as a death warrant.

  • • •

  Sometimes Ben just didn’t get Cara. She’d played it well in front of Lorient and his cronies, but now she was acting cool and distant in private as well as in public. It was probably easier to keep up the pretense all the time. You never knew when someone was watching.

  Besides, he had enough to think about.

  The order for Max’s arrest hadn’t been rescinded despite B
en’s confession.

  The tension between settler and psi-tech heated up with the weather. Ben set Gen the task of keeping a running file on all incidents, partly to keep her mind off Max twenty-six hours a day, and partly because he didn’t want her too far away from where he could keep an eye on her. He wanted to see if he could pin the anti-psi-tech activity down to one small group or trace it directly to Lorient. He had plenty of suspicions, but no proof.

  Within the space of three days a psi-tech man, one of Serafin’s mechanics, was beaten nearly senseless for picking up a settler child who’d fallen over and skinned his knees on the street in Timbertown. In Landing, there was a brawl when a group of settlers arrived with a wagon insisting on grain they believed was being kept from them. Several other small incidents stopped short of an all-out fight. Marta had a close call when she was hassled by a gang of young thugs. She only escaped them by taking to the river and staying underwater until help arrived, saved by her gills.

  Lorient had a list of psi-tech misdemeanors for Ben to deal with—all trivial, most imagined, but it was indicative of the settlers’ mood.

  Ben gave the whole psi-tech team a strong lecture about not being pushed into using their talents against the settlers, no matter what the provocation.

  Lorient, eloquent and convincing, took to holding meetings daily and he wasn’t preaching reconciliation anymore. Settlers traveled klicks on foot or horseback to hear him. The fanatics began to wear Ecolibrian symbols depicted in a variety of ingenious ways, embroidered onto clothes, painted onto skin, or as homemade jewelry. Within a few days, those not wearing symbols were being picked on by those who were. The pressure was on to conform.

  Lorient wanted the psi-techs gone, and for their part the psi-techs would have been happy to finish the essential jobs and leave as soon as the settlers from the second ark, due soon, had been revived, but Ben still hadn’t had any direct contact with Crowder.

  Seven days after Max left Seaward Base, he failed to turn up at the rendezvous point.

  • • •

  Victor Lorient locked his office behind him and strode up the hill to his house. It was quite small for his status, but he liked to appear modest.