Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  Back in his hotel room, he sat at the reader and stared intently at the screen. What it revealed pulled Ben up short even though he had been half expecting something like it.

  “Come on, what gives?” Max hovered impatiently.

  The more he read, the less Ben liked. “It’s not good news. The planetary contract . . . Aww, shit.” He read the next bit and realized what they were up against. “The jargon is legalistic, but basically there’s a penalty clause. Olyanda is owned by Remagen, a subsidiary of the Trust. It’s been leased in perpetuity, rather than sold. Here, look. It’s leased to the Ecolibrians via the FPA for the express purposes of colonization. In the event of the planet being left to lie unused, or it ceases to be used for anything other than its primary purpose, i.e., domestic and agricultural, the lease reverts to Remagen, i.e., back to the Trust. In the event of the settlers wanting to relinquish the planet for any reason, the lease has to be offered by them on the open market.”

  “Well, they’re already too late to do anything about that,” Max said. “The colony’s already established.”

  “Read it again.” Ben had worked out the implications. “If the colony fails, the planet belongs to the Trust again. And that includes the right to mine platinum. If the colony is abandoned or if it dies—that is, if all the settlers die—the Trust takes the whole lot back legally. But if the settlers sell the lease to the planet it has to go on the open market, so the Trust enters a bidding war with Alphacorp, the FPA, and anyone else who can scrape up billions of credits.”

  They were already preparing to do it. The settlers and the psi-techs were already reported as dead or dying. Now someone would have to make sure that came true one way or another. The story of the virus would scare off the independent observers until the area was declared clear. Very neat. That would even give whoever it was time to wipe out the unprotected settlers, cream off a portion of platinum and cover their tracks before handing over the planet to the Trust.

  Ben smashed his fist on the table and sat back, eyes closed. Deep breathing until he trusted his voice not to crack. “If Crowder’s behind this,” he said very quietly, “I’ll kill him myself.” What was platinum worth? Was it worth all those lives? To some, no price was too high to pay, especially if they weren’t paying it.

  • • •

  “I’ve got to see Crowder.” Ben paced up and down their shared hotel sitting room until Max got dizzy watching him.

  “You must be mad.” Max sat up on the couch and switched off the holovid, which he’d been trying to concentrate on and failing.

  “Probably, but he’s the key to all this. He knows what I need to know and the only way I’m going to find out is by confronting him. I’ll beat it out of him if I have to. I wish Cara was here. At least she’d know if he was lying. I don’t trust myself. I’m too close to him.”

  Max felt hollow in the pit of his stomach, not for the first time. All his life it had seemed that whatever he did wasn’t important, but now things that he’d done had really hurt people. He’d fucked up, bigtime. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “If it hadn’t been for me, you’d have had Cara here.” Max bit his lip. “Look I don’t know how to say this. I’m not very good at apologizing, but I’ve been pretty selfish up to now. I didn’t think about Gen’s feelings when I started coming on to her. It was just a bit of a laugh—a pretty girl and all the more tantalizing because it was forbidden, but somewhere along the way I got bitten. I really do care about her, and I’ve discovered that I really do care about the colony, too. So whatever I can do, count me in. I’m with you all the way.”

  Ben nodded. “You’re all right, you know, once you drop the window dressing.” He checked the time on his handpad.

  Max felt as though he’d just been handed the biggest compliment he’d ever received.

  Ben didn’t seem to realize he’d said anything special. He continued, “Crowder usually works later than anyone else. Use your Ric Dubeau identity and call him at exactly 32.10 this evening, audio only. Say you’re an old friend of mine from the Monitors. That should give him some explaining to do and ensure he’s still in the office after the shift has gone. I hope you’re a good actor. I shall expect you to be so grief-stricken that he takes plenty of time to tell you what a wonderful person I was.”

  • • •

  Cara was late getting in touch, but Ben couldn’t wait. It was well past dusk as he negotiated the HQ perimeter—not daring to risk the main gates. His buddysuit gave him a certain anonymity, and he had a generic entry code rather than his personal pass, which would surely have been wiped out of the matrix by now. He’d certainly lost his Level One clearance.

  He strolled through the parking lot as if he owned it, punched in the door code for the goods entrance, and pushed off into the antigrav shaft, facing away from the camera plates and staying close to the safety ladder in case someone spotted him on one of the vid-circuits. The building was never totally empty, even at night, so one more uniform, more or less, wouldn’t cause any excitement unless his face was obvious.

  Up on the first floor all the lights were on standby, except for Crowder’s office. As he made his way silently along the corridor, Cara’s personality flickered into his head. He felt a shiver of warmth.

  *Hello, love, having a busy day?* he said.

  *You wouldn’t believe what these damned settlers . . . *

  *I’m three paces away from Crowder’s office.*

  *Mind if I listen in?*

  *Be my guest.*

  Ben stepped silently through the door. Crowder was hunched over the com trying to sound sincere. “He was my most trusted team leader, Mr. Dubeau.” The bastard even managed to sound emotional. “And he was a good friend. I’ll miss him.”

  “Now if only you’d told me that when I was alive, I’d have asked for a pay raise.” Ben enjoyed the look on Crowder’s face. “Take it steady or you’ll have a heart attack.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Not important. Do you want to ask me why I got here?” Ben paused, though no answer was forthcoming. “But then, you know why, don’t you? I want to know what you’ve got planned for Olyanda. I know half of it already. Now you can tell me the other half. Let’s start with why you didn’t trash the platinum data.”

  “I did.”

  “Come on. How long have we known each other?”

  “Too long for this sort of suspicion,” Crowder said.

  “Then give me proof, or give me a reason.”

  “Ben, dear boy, do you think I would abandon you? I’ve got a shuttle coming to pick up all my psi-techs. Of course, you’ll all have to disappear, officially, but there’ll be a credit bonus that will keep everyone quiet, even you.”

  “I won’t say I can’t be bought, Crowder. Everyone’s got a price, but mine isn’t money. Tell me about the platinum.”

  “Okay, okay. The platinum . . . it’s too important. Ben, the Trust is my life. I’ve given everything to it. My youth, my wife, everything.”

  “That was your choice.”

  “And I made it willingly. The Trust . . . Believe me, Ben, I’ll be chairman of the Board one day. Maybe even one day soon. I’ll make it to the top, and I’ll take you with me. But we’ll not get there by ignoring a platinum planet. Olyanda will give us an edge over every other trading company in the whole of the known universe. We’ll stomp Alphacorp into the mud.”

  “You can’t take me with you to the top. I’m dead, remember?” Ben saw Crowder’s body twitch twice as if he’d tapped his foot.

  “Dead, yes. I am so sorry. I owe you my life . . .” Crowder sat back in his chair, his eyes clouded.

  A flicker on Crowder’s face gave away another presence in the room. Ben spun to the left. There was a sizzle in the air, and the bolt beam scorched a channel in the wall. He jumped back out of the line of fire with a curse.

  Danniri and Jusquin, Crowder’s bodyguards, came at Ben from opposite sides. Instead of going for eith
er, he ducked low and emerged between them, making their hand weapons useless without the danger of hitting each other. They suffered a fatal moment of indecision.

  Ben’s hand flickered to the dark buckle on his belt. With one twist the cross-shaped centerpiece snapped off as it was designed to do, revealing four chisel edges as sharp as razors. Ben skimmed it sideways toward the right-hand man. It buried itself in his throat, severing artery and windpipe. Blood began to spurt high from the wound, spraying the wall and floor.

  Even as Ben made his move, Jusquin’s booted foot connected with his ribs. He rolled with it and twisted, almost landing on Danniri’s bloody corpse, slipping in the pooling blood. The lifeless fingers still held the bolt gun. Ben grabbed it, twisted again, and fired. Jusquin fell and lay still.

  “That’s enough.”

  Ben stared straight into the muzzle of Crowder’s jet pistol.

  “Two down, one to go. Would it be me next, Ben?”

  “Not until I’d wrung every bit of information out of you that I could.”

  Crowder leveled the gun. It was lightweight, but it would still make a mess of him at this range. Ben didn’t have a chance against it. He got to his feet slowly.

  “Go on, then. You said you owe me your life. Is this how you repay your debts?” He didn’t take his eyes off Crowder as he straightened up. “From this range you shouldn’t have any problems, though the blood might stain your shirt. What’s one more life on top of all the rest?”

  Crowder’s hand never wavered. His eyes remained steady, but he didn’t fire.

  “It’s not quite the same as killing people on another world, is it? Give an order. Make a payment. That’s easy, but this . . . this is messy.” He flicked an eye to the bodies on the floor. “It’s messy and very personal. Is it worth it?”

  Crowder didn’t even blink.

  “If it’s your scheme, it will be well planned. Who are you sending in? Does the Trust have its own black-ops fleet? Or have you done another deal with Ari van Blaiden? Tell me, Crowder . . . all the time you were standing by my side at the Hera-3 hearing, were you laughing out of your arse?”

  Crowder shrugged, but his hand never wavered. Ben kept on, hoping to get him talking. If he’d had the guts to pull the trigger, he’d have done it by now, but one wrong word could push him right over the edge. He kept his voice low, tried to give Crowder the impression it wasn’t too late to offer him a deal.

  “Cutting communications was a good idea. We thought you were on Reisercaine, but . . .” Ben nodded to the small pins in Crowder’s lapel. “Neat trick, a double-damper. Leave us stranded, without resources, then divert the second ark. It was very clever. I would have thought, though, that you’d have sent a transport to lift us all off Olyanda, get us out of the way. You didn’t need to lose your psi-tech team if you’d been prepared to wait until the end of the year. Haven’t you lost enough psi-tech teams?”

  An irrational laugh bubbled up through Ben’s subconscious. “You never intended for us to survive, did you? With or without platinum, we were going to be lost in the Folds on the way home. You put the Hera-3 survivors together to get rid of the last witnesses, and you were willing to lose the rest of the team to get rid of us. The platinum was a complication you didn’t expect, but you were willing to make use of it.”

  “Not lost.” Crowder’s voice cracked. “Just mislaid in cryo. A hundred years would have done the trick. Believe me, Ben, I never intended any harm to you or your team, either on Hera-3 or Olyanda, but . . .”

  “But platinum trumps all other considerations.” Ben exhaled sharply and shook his head. “I trusted you, Crowder. I trusted you with my life . . . and theirs. What next? Airborne attack? Neural blast bombs to turn us all to zombies, then send in a mop-up division?”

  Crowder didn’t blink. “Better make a deal for yourself, Ben. You’re too late already. Probably . . . let’s see, seventeen days Earth-time by the Exan Gate . . . about four days too late.”

  “We came by the Invidii Gate.”

  Crowder turned pale. “When did you leave? Had the grain shipment arrived?”

  Ben’s scalp began to crawl. “What does it matter?”

  “Had it?” Crowder almost screamed. His gun wavered just a fraction.

  Ben didn’t miss the opportunity. He flung himself sideways and slammed against Crowder’s desk, knocking the furniture into his legs. Crowder staggered and sent his float chair crashing into the wall. Ben vaulted over the desktop, grabbed the gun, and dropped with one knee on Crowder’s chest, pinning him to the floor.

  He replayed everything Crowder had said in his mind, then married it up with the official reports. Plague. Shit.

  “Biological strike, Crowder. That’s why you want to know, isn’t it? Did I leave before or after some deadly bug was released? In which case, am I infectious now?”

  Ben put his face close to Crowder’s and breathed out.

  “What might I be infecting you with? Something neat like an altered flu bug or an anthrax-based killer, or something truly messy, like Ebola. Here you are. A present from Olyanda.”

  “No! You don’t know . . .”

  “Don’t know what? How bad the plague is? Tell me, then. What have you released—bacteria, a virus, neurotoxins?” Ben put the jet pistol against Crowder’s neck.

  “Pull the trigger. If you left after the grain arrived, you’ll be doing us both a favor. Use it on yourself next.”

  “What have you done? What is it?”

  “Endaemia. In biological terms, a chimera, a superbug. A weapon from more than one viral source. Now, for God’s sake, tell me when you left and how long you’ve been here.”

  Ben pulled Crowder up from the floor, then shoved him down hard on the float chair which wobbled dangerously until he jammed it against the wall. “Tell me more.”

  Crowder pinched his lips together and shook his head. Ben grabbed Crowder’s ear and twisted hard, immobilizing him with the pain, then he shoved the muzzle of the gun into Crowder’s crotch until the man winced. He released the pressure on Crowder’s ear without letting go completely. The trouble with getting information with pain was that the information was likely to be what you wanted to hear, not necessarily the truth, but Ben had known Crowder a long time.

  “There’s nothing you can do.” Crowder choked back a sound that was halfway between a giggle and a sob.

  Ben pushed the gun harder into Crowder’s soft flesh and was rewarded with a gasp that could have been either pain or fear. Whichever it was, Ben had Crowder’s full attention.

  “I haven’t got much time, Crowder. If I pull the trigger, it almost certainly won’t kill you, but you’ll wish it had.”

  “All right. All right. But it won’t do you any good. It’s already too late.”

  “Tell me!”

  “A killer. Human-specific in this form. Airborne. Virulent as all hell.” He started to move his fingers in a universal cutthroat gesture, but more pressure from the gun stopped him. “It’s fierce, but it’s fragile. Lifespan of six months, but that’s enough to do its job. Within a year the planet will be safe again.”

  “But if I’m already infected, then it’s too late. Is that it? Is there nothing that can stop it?”

  “Not before it’s swept through the rest of the populated galaxy.”

  Ben shoved his rising panic to one side. She was still there in his head, sitting quietly, not interfering. *Did you get that, Cara?*

  *All of it.*

  *And the grain shipment?*

  *There’s a chance the settlers may not have reached it yet. If they haven’t, I’m going to kiss Victor Lorient for doing it the hard way.*

  *Get on it.*

  *Already moving.* Her mental contact snapped off, leaving a sweet ache where she’d been.

  Ben dragged Crowder to his feet. “You’ll never get away with this. It’s too big.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s precisely because it is so big that no one will question it. Never underestimate greed. Even if I
reveal the whole thing to the Board, all they’ll do is sniff at my methods and then take every advantage of circumstances.”

  Ben jammed the gun against Crowder’s neck again. “What about the second ark? What have you done with it.”

  “It’s safe. Safe. I’m not a monster.”

  “You could have fooled me! Safe where?”

  “The Arcturus System. A fresh planet. Safe. Tell me. You’re not infectious, are you? You’d have blown my balls off by now if you were.” Crowder turned on his negotiating voice. “You’re not stupid, Ben. Forget all this. It’s already too late to do anything for the poor sods on Olyanda, but there’s still time to save yourself. I’m sorry it worked out like this. You’re my best man, you know. Your only flaw is your integrity. You’re too honest. Too honorable to finish me off now, even though I know you want to. My flyer’s in the port. Take it and get out. You’ll fare well enough on your own. I’ve always had you pegged for resourceful.”

  Ben tightened his grip on the gun. His palms were beginning to sweat slightly, and his ears felt as though they were being bombarded by white noise. This wasn’t real. He would have trusted Crowder with his life. He wanted to pull the trigger. No one else would ever be able to square it up for the settlers and the psi-techs.

  “You’re wrong, Crowder. I’m not honorable enough.”

  He weighed up the choices. Kill Crowder now. Satisfying, but what if the thirty thousand were not safe on Arcturus? Take Crowder prisoner? The possibilities of being able to get him out of the building and off planet without a firefight or a miracle were remote.

  “An honorable man would kill you right now. I’m leaning toward expediency.”

  He’d have to leave him here. Crowder wasn’t going anywhere, though next time security would be much tougher to crack. And there would be a next time. Once the thirty thousand were safe, Crowder was a dead man and honor would be satisfied.

  “You’re not going to hurt me.” Crowder’s voice slipped past negotiation and into manipulation mode. “We go back too far. Get out while you can, Benjamin.”