Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  “Cara has a few more pieces of the puzzle,” Ben said. “There’s a connection you’re not going to like.”

  “I should tell you about Ari van Blaiden,” she said.

  Mr. van Blaiden wants to know . . .

  Get out of my head!

  The nausea hardly bothered her at all now.

  She talked without interruption until the whole story had been delivered from beginning to end, though she caught Jack’s eye as she glossed over the sham marriage. It didn’t seem to matter now.

  “You’re saying this Ari van Blaiden person is some kind of pirate? If they come in here to rip the platinum out, what happens to the colony?” Jack asked.

  There was a loud silence around the room. They all looked at Ben.

  “I’ll tell him,” Wenna said. “On Hera-3 they wiped out a whole colony. We figured the big money was behind it, either Alphacorp or the Trust. Now it looks like it was both, but we had no proof until now.”

  “How could they . . .” Jack began.

  “Because space is big and even a whole planet is a very insignificant part of it.” Ben took a deep breath. “Cara had the answers all along, but she couldn’t access them until she beat the neural block. We’ve been through Ari van Blaiden’s files, and his mole in the Trust might be Crowder.”

  The room broke out into a babble of incredulity. Everyone had trusted Crowder. He was their boss, their lifeline. He’d saved their individual and collective butts times without number.

  Cara felt as though she was the only one who’d never trusted him, never felt he was on her side.

  Ben held his hands up for silence. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel. I don’t want to believe it either.”

  “Boss, how could it be Crowder? You saved his sorry ass on Londrissi,” Cas said. “We’re small-fry in any power games, but how could he do it to you? Hera-3 nearly damn well killed us all, you included.”

  Marta turned to Ben. “That’s why you wanted the Dixie Flyer,” she said. “Have you got a psi rating in clairvoyance that you’re not telling us about?”

  “The Dixie was for Cara’s benefit.”

  Cara would have protested her part in it, but Cas didn’t give her time.

  “You’ve got a flyer here?” she asked.

  Ben nodded. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need it.”

  “Then we’ve got options,” Serafin said.

  “I want to try and contact someone I think may be able to help, before we try anything else.”

  “Crowder?” Cas asked.

  Ben shook his head. “Mother Ramona on Crossways. Even her spies have spies. You wouldn’t believe how many top-ranking officials she’s fixed things for. After that, possibly, someone has to go back home, to Chenon, and do some digging. We have to know for sure who’s behind this.”

  “That’s you, isn’t it?” Cara asked. She didn’t want to see him leave, but she knew he was the only one who could effectively access the system.

  “No one else would find the answers. It’s a two-man flyer.” Ben looked around at the group. “Unless anyone has any serious objections, I’m going to take Cara. Not just because I love her . . .” Cara heard his words with a shiver of pleasure. “But because a Psi-1 on comms will be useful, and because if Ari van Blaiden is involved, she’s a sitting target here—even more than the rest of you.”

  There were no objections.

  “I just used up a whole lot of energy trying to contact Crowder,” Cara said. “A gestalt would make life easier for the Crossways contact.”

  Cas and Saedi both linked implants with her. She took the focus and put Ben right up front. She gathered all the implants in one by one and molded them together. It was a bit like making a snowball, and when the ball was tight and firm and perfectly round, she hurled it.

  • • •

  *Mother Ramona.*

  *Gods, it’s the middle of the night. Benjamin? It is you? Still alive? I was so sorry to hear . . . *

  Ben felt Cara’s mind retreat, leaving him to talk to Mother Ramona. When he’d finished, she let the link drop and everyone looked at him. The weight of their expectations settled on his shoulders.

  “According to all the official records, this colony is in the grip of a plague—a local virus no one can find a cure for. It’s deadly, and we’ve been quarantined.”

  “Well, can’t we just tell them that there’s no virus?” Archie said. “We’ve got three Psi-1s here—is there anyone we can’t reach?”

  “There’s a quarantine notice out on this planet,” Ben said. “No one will break that, no matter what we say and who we say it to. If we were really infected, we’d say anything to get help . . . or at least that’s the way logic goes.” He felt a headache building up behind his eyes.

  “What about the second ark?” Jack asked.

  “It’s supposed to be here any time now—if it’s coming.”

  “What does that mean?” Jack asked.

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Thirty thousand souls. What have they done?”

  “Possibly nothing, but if we make a big fuss and set people off asking questions and searching, the easiest way to dispose of them is to push their ark into the Folds and not bring it out the other side. Realistically, there’s not much we can do from here, not yet. I’ve asked Mother Ramona to see if she can trace the vessel. Something that big has to have been logged through gates, and there’s a limit as to which gates it can use. She’ll find it.”

  Jack’s face was a mask of surprise, shock, and shattered dreams. Eventually he took a deep breath. “So do we think van Blaiden’s on his way, or is it Crowder?” He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “And does it matter which one of them is screwing us?”

  Everyone went quiet until Cas voiced the big concern. “If we’re under quarantine, then there’s no rescue. If they think there’s a rampant virus loose on the planet, they won’t send anyone. Ever. Again.”

  “We’re on our own,” Suzi Ruka said.

  Ben was aware that Cara had said very little yet. He desperately wanted to talk all this through with her, see if she had an angle on it that he hadn’t seen. “Not quite, Suzie,” he said. “We’re on our own with a planet full of platinum, ten thousand settlers, and some contacts who aren’t ruled by either the Trust or Alphacorp.” He turned to Jack. “We’ll have to mine some of the stuff now. Enough to fund some kind of resistance or at least secure a loan on good faith to buy what we need to set this thing straight.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you all just bought your own way out of here and took enough platinum with you to retire to somewhere safe,” Jack said.

  Wenna rubbed her prosthetic arm. “That’s not our way.”

  Jack shrugged. “Why can’t we just offer to sell them the platinum? Hell, we can give it to them if it keeps the colony safe.”

  Cara shook her head. “How much do you know about platinum mining and refining for use in the jump gates, Jack?”

  “Nothing . . . well, next to nothing anyway.”

  “On this scale it’s destructive. There are several igneous reefs with high concentrations of ore, but much of the platinum is spread thinly over a wide area of alluvial deposits. The easiest way to access it is to strip-mine, spoiling vast tracts of land. It takes over three metric tons of ore to produce a gram of platinum, and getting that ore is wasteful. Then there’s the refining. There’s pollution from cyanide, heavy metals, and acid mine drainage. Exposure to platinum salts has adverse health risks, and that’s before they start processing it for the jump gate rods. Believe me, you don’t want that on Olyanda.”

  “Besides . . .” Ben took over. “If Olyanda was auctioned off on the open market, the price would be higher than either the Trust or Alphacorp wanted to pay. Neither of them wants to get into a bidding war.”

  “And we couldn’t do an inside deal?” Jack’s voice sounded close to panic.

  “Not legally.”

  “Do we care about legal?”

  “
Not entirely, but the megacorps want to retain the appearance of legality.”

  “So we’re fucked.”

  “Not if we can help it,” Ben said. “We’ve got enough platinum to buy help, the biggest problem is whether we can do it before the raiders arrive.”

  “Are we going to fight for the planet?” Jack asked.

  “No, we’re going to fight to leave it,” Ben said. “Try and take your settlers somewhere safe. Find them a nice platinum-free planet. I only said it couldn’t be sold legally. If whoever we sell it to has the firepower to hold it, they get to keep it.”

  He looked around at the sea of faces, but really only wanted reaction from one.

  *Why did I ever doubt you?* she asked on a tight band that was meant for him alone. *Even Jack’s fallen naturally into letting you make plans.*

  *But have I made the right plans?*

  *In a lose-lose situation, coming up with any kind of plan is difficult enough, but protecting the people is paramount—and that’s what you’re doing.*

  He felt a warm glow. He didn’t need her approval, but he was glad to have it.

  “Cara and I will take ore samples and surveys to Crossways. I’ve got a contact there, so we’ll do a deal and hire a transport fleet to come and get everyone.”

  “Ten thousand of us,” Jack said. “In cryo? That took months.”

  “We don’t have months,” Cas said. “And we don’t have the cryo units.”

  “It will take four superliners,” Ben said. “Or a fleet of smaller transports . . . Let me see what Mother Ramona can come up with.”

  “What about the towns? The farms? The animals?” Jack asked.

  “Abandon them. Turn the livestock loose, leave the towns and farmsteads as decoys.”

  “It’s all a bit . . . radical, isn’t it?” Jack looked dazed. “What if you’re wrong? What if they don’t come?”

  “They will,” Cara said.

  “Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.” Ben said. “By the time this plan is underway, we should have confirmation one way or the other. If we’re wrong, all you’ll have to do is round up your animals again and bring the settlers home.”

  Cara leaned forward and put a hand on Jack’s arm. “If we’re right—and you do nothing—your settlers will be sitting targets when bombs fall on your towns. Which would you rather do? Act and look foolish, or don’t act and die?”

  “I’ll ask the director.”

  “No, Jack,” Ben said. “Time’s past for asking. And with all respect, the director isn’t in the best frame of mind right now. I’m telling you, and then you tell him. This is how it’s going to be. We’ll send psi-techs to every settlement, and I’d like a settler representative, one who’s got the gift of the gab, to travel with each of them to make sure your settlers understand this is for real and that cooperation is required.”

  “Tell them about the platinum?”

  “No, that’ll just complicate matters. Tell them we’ve landed in the middle of a territorial war we knew nothing about. Tell them it’s aliens.”

  “Aliens!”

  “Joke. Tell them anything they’ll believe.”

  “They might believe in aliens.”

  “As if.”

  “Right. Territorial war it is.”

  “That’s almost true. This is the territory. Good man . . . and, Jack?”

  “Yes?”

  “How are the Lorients?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “I’ve never seen them like this. After the initial shock Rena’s holding up better than Victor, but she’s barely talking to him.”

  “Does she know Lorient sent Colchek and Taris?”

  Jack shuddered. “She might have suspicions, but ‘sent’ may be too strong a word . . . ‘inspired’ is closer, I think.”

  “Are you sure about that? Lorient thought the tank farm was the equivalent of cloning, and Danny was pretty sure they were Lorient’s men.”

  “Well, sadly, we shall never know.”

  “Surely you’ll put them on trial?”

  “There will be a hearing. The result is a foregone conclusion. Colchek and Taris will get what’s coming to them.”

  “I’d like to testify.”

  “I’ll pass that on, but you understand that we have to minimize the grief, and . . . we want our director back.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Cara said. “There won’t be any connection found between Lorient and the arsonists, will there?”

  “Under other circumstances I’d push them on that, but right now there are too many other people to worry about.”

  As the meeting broke up, Gen grabbed both Cara and Ben by the arm and pulled them aside. “You’ve got to do something about Max,” she said. “He’s in trouble. Otherwise, he’d have turned up somewhere or contacted us somehow. And if he is out there somewhere, laying low, he won’t know any of this is happening—he’ll be left behind. I know you don’t like him, Ben, but, please, let me send a team of Finders out looking for him.”

  “I have no feelings for him one way or the other,” Ben said. “Although he’s caused his fair share of trouble. Yes, start Sami Isaksten searching. See if you can locate him and bring him in.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  CLASH

  *Ben! Cara!* Gen’s telepathic shout, close to panic, cut across Cara’s breakfast in the dining hall. *Emergency.*

  *Gen. Steady.* Cara reeled under the onslaught and shoved her plate away. Ben was over by the counter collecting his own tray, but he was already in on the conversation. He could hardly avoid it; Gen was frantic. Cara’s brain felt like it had been hit by an electric shock. A rainbow of colors danced behind her eyelids. She gritted her teeth. *Slow down, Gen, what’s the matter?*

  *They put Max on trial this morning in Timbertown. Found a letter I . . . Got some liar to say they’d seen us together. He’s scheduled for execution with Colchek and Taris. Victor’s just announced it. They all cheered. Cheered! Do something. They’re going to burn them.*

  It was the mental equivalent of a sob. *Burn them!*

  Cara felt something nasty crawling between her shoulder blades. Ben had made a crack about burning Max at the stake—how ironic. So much for justice.

  *Gen.* Ben butted in. *When and where?*

  *Tomorrow at sunrise. They’ve got them all locked up in the undercroft at Central Hall right now.*

  *Where are you?*

  *Still in Timbertown.*

  *Come home, Gen. We’ll figure something out,* Ben said.

  Gen wanted to stay close to Max; Cara could feel it without words.

  *Ben’s right. Come home,* Cara said. She closed down the communication and hurried straight to the Mapping office.

  By the time she arrived, Ben had told Wenna what was happening.

  “Uh-huh, Boss, I can see what’s coming. Let someone else break Max out.”

  “Who?” Ben asked.

  “Gupta, maybe. He can look after himself.”

  “No, I can’t ask anyone else to do it. This isn’t official business.”

  “Ask for volunteers.”

  “I wouldn’t put anyone else in that position.”

  “Dammit. Ben, you can’t do it on your own,” Wenna said.

  “He won’t be on his own,” Cara said. “I’m going, too.” She saw the look on Ben’s face.

  “Don’t argue, Ben, she’s right,” Wenna said. “And you’d better let a few others in on the deal. You’ll need backup. I’d volunteer myself, but I couldn’t trust this arm one hundred percent. I’ll work control for you from here, though.”

  Ben nodded to Wenna. “We’ll do it tonight. Can we get Serafin’s schematics for the building?” He turned back to Cara. “We’ll need a team that’s good in a tight corner. Ask Ronan if he’s willing to join us and . . . Archie Tatum with a score of sapper bots.” He grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That should give us an edge.”

  • • •

  In
the entrance to a half-finished building, right across from the Central Hall in the center of Timbertown, four shadows blended into the darkness.

  Cara tugged up the collar of her work-worn settler coverall. She pulled a cap down over her hair, rubbed at the smudged dirt on her cheeks, and breathed deeply, fighting down the butterflies that danced in the pit of her belly.

  She looked across at Ben, another shadow inside their quiet cocoon. He seemed calm on the surface, but she could feel that he was ready for action, functioning on several levels. He had the plan uppermost in his mind with an awareness of their group actions and each individual’s own part. Timing was critical.

  The hall lights shone through the high windows across the street as settlers attended a silent midnight meditation before the executions. Just around the corner, nestled in the shade of an alleyway, Gen sat in a standard four-man groundcar with the cargo space stripped and padded to take two more passengers. It had been there since before dark. A few minutes ago, Gen had casually walked from their shelter and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  Lorient’s disciples had already started to build a fire pit in the market square. Cara could see the glow from here.

  *Barbaric,* Ronan said on a narrow band that went no farther than the four of them. *This is all about revenge for Danny’s death, and it’s a huge warning to anyone else who steps out of line.*

  *Ready?* Ben looked to Archie.

  Archie licked his lips and nodded.

  *Gestalt.*

  On Ben’s signal, Cara linked them together. What one knew, all knew. Cara, Ben, Gen, Ronan, and Archie became one being with five separate mobile units, each capable of individual thought yet working as a team in a way which a deadhead could never understand.

  Archie slipped away quietly, and Cara was aware of him approaching the base of the bell tower with a posse of tiny spider-legged engineering bots, known as sappers. He sent them on their way up the walls, controlling each one with precise ease as they drilled and lasered, tunneled and levered.

  The midnight bell began to chime. Nine—ten—eleven—and CRACK! The splitting of timber released such tensions that it sounded like a projectile weapon. The two main beams supporting the bell shifted, and there was an almighty clang as several tons of bronze alloy dropped to lodge crosswise in the tower against a beam which was not designed to take its weight.