Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  “Cara, I couldn’t lie to you. I have never killed in cold blood. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Maybe not personally, but you give the orders. Craike, and others like him, are your weapons. That’s almost more immoral than if you’d squeezed the trigger yourself. But you’ve never liked to dirty your own hands, have you?”

  “Robert Craike is an extremely skilled technician. The finest in his field. I only choose the best. You can’t blame me for that.”

  “I blame you for a lot of things.”

  She almost saw Ari’s mood swing. “I can see we’re not going to get on very far like this. You’ve just lost your last chance to do things the easy way. Now, Robert.” Ari looked to the door.

  Craike entered. He was all muscle. She’d always been intimidated by him. That gave him a hold over her. Even when they’d both been, supposedly, on the same side, she’d hated the sadistic streak in his nature; and later, when she had seen him inflict pain, maim and kill, she had known instinctively, whatever his excuse or authority, that he’d done it for pleasure.

  Ari backed off. “Perhaps a night with Robert might change your mind. I can assure you, he’s very inventive. Maybe you’d like to take on both of us.”

  Craike grinned at her.

  She struggled to subdue her rising panic, fighting to steady her ragged breathing. She transferred her weight onto the balls of her feet, ready to dodge if she had to, and stretched out her awareness for any telltale flicker that Craike was about to move.

  “Steady.” Ari motioned Craike back and turned to Cara. “For old times’ sake, let’s be kind to each other. Tell me what you did with my files, and I’ll ask Robert to finish it quickly.”

  So McLellan hadn’t managed to get all the information from her. Cara felt a wave of triumph. That was what all this was about.

  “How about I tell you and I walk free?”

  “You haven’t got that kind of bargaining power.”

  “Haven’t I? What if I’ve lodged copies with the files somewhere safe?” He blanched slightly. Had she scored a point? “You’ve got me, Ari. Let the others go. They’ve done nothing to hurt you.”

  “Wrong. Benjamin messed up Hera-3, and then he took you from me.”

  “You lost me long before I met Ben.”

  “Mr. van Blaiden.” One of the mercs came in, looking worried.

  “Not now.”

  “But Mr. van Blaiden . . .”

  “I said, not now.”

  Outside, Cara could hear rising voices.

  Ari looked to Craike. “Amuse yourself for a moment. I’ll be back.”

  • • •

  “What is it?” Ari let the impatience show in his voice. He’d told them not to disturb him. “This had better be important.”

  Morton Tengue, captain of his mercenary guards, took responsibility. “Incoming fleet, sir.”

  “What?” Ari pushed past him into the ATC room and stared at the console. The young operator slid sideways to give him access to the screen, but Ari grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Stay on it. Tell me what I’m seeing.”

  “Two waves of ships, sir, and—oh—there’s a third.”

  “How many ships? Have you identified them?”

  “Seven in the first wave, sixteen in the second, and three in the third. It’s not possible to identify them at this range. I don’t have visual yet, but the first seven are big enough to be gunships. The second wave has a mixture of sizes, troopships or cargo carriers and some smaller craft. Skiffs, I think. They’re not all giving the same signature. I don’t think it’s a military fleet or a Monitor action, but whoever they are, they mean business.”

  “Third wave?”

  “Likely private yachts. Whoever’s in charge, I’d say. They’re hanging back. The first wave is fanning out, and the second wave is coming in fast.”

  “How fast? How long have we got?”

  “Four hours. Six at most.”

  Was it Crossways or—damn Crowder to hell—was it the Trust? Had he got his own black-ops fleet now? Ari had no doubt that Crowder had planned this all along. Rage rolled through him.

  He turned to Captain Tengue. “Tell Ensign Keely to ready my ship for takeoff.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How spread out are the miners?”

  “They’ve got five teams out prospecting. We can’t get all of them back here in less than a day.”

  “Ignore them, then. How about your own men?”

  “We can be ready to lift off in an hour, but I’ve got twenty men out with the prospectors. I’ll not leave them behind.”

  “You may have to.”

  He recognized the look on Tengue’s face. He’d seen it on the face of principled men all over the galaxy.

  “I’m not paying you to get caught, Tengue.”

  “You’re not paying me enough to leave men behind.”

  Ari nodded. “Suit yourself. Recall your men if you can, but in the meantime, I’ve got some unfinished business I need you for. After that you’re on your own.”

  “Understood.”

  • • •

  Craike’s fingers tightened on Cara’s arms. “An entirely expected pleasure. I told him that the Neural Reconditioning wouldn’t hold, but he wouldn’t believe me. Said I was jealous. Well, we’ll see about jealous, shall we? Have you got those files on you? Shall I search you to find out.” He began to pat her all over.

  “No.”

  It didn’t matter now.

  His hands ran over her belly and down the inside of her thighs.

  “I said no!” She kicked out and caught his leg with her boot. Too bad, she’d been aiming for his groin.

  He straightened up, backed her right into the wall, and smacked her hard across the mouth with the back of his hand. Her head cracked back into the wall with a bang that she felt in her skull rather than heard. Her vision started to shimmer around the edges, and her knees trembled. She pushed herself back into the wall for support.

  “Enough games, we’ve got trouble.” Ari stormed back into the room. “There’s a whole bloody fleet on the scanners.”

  Mother Ramona’s fleet. She needed delaying tactics now. “I’ll tell you one thing for free, Ari. Crowder set a trap for you here.”

  “Garrick’s fleet, I know.”

  “No, that was us. Crowder sent you to a plague planet. Endaemia.” Cara said. “Your intel was poor.”

  “Endaemia? Here?” She saw the panic flash across Ari’s face.

  “Ready to be released. A present from Crowder. We stopped it. It’s sealed. But it’s still here. Be careful what you open. I could take you to where it is.”

  “Nice try, but no. Crowder, you say?”

  “Yes, good old Crowder.”

  Cara read Ari’s face like a book. “You’ve been screwed just as much as we have. Crowder wanted you here to get rid of you at the same time as he got rid of Ben. Both of you are the last ones who could blow the whistle on Hera-3. It was you, Ari, wasn’t it? You and Craike and your lovely little team?” She thought on her feet, wondering how much she could use.

  A young Alphacorp ensign appeared at the door. She glanced at Cara, wide-eyed, and then at Ari. What was a kid like that doing in Ari’s team of mercenaries?

  “Yes, Ensign Keely?” Ari snapped out.

  “Sir, Captain Tengue reports incoming . . .”

  “I know,” he roared. “Get my ship ready!”

  “Yes, sir.” She fled.

  Ari turned back to Cara. “Thank you for the information. You were always too truthful and too trusting. I’ll even up the score with Crowder later. But there’s still time for revenge. I never let a disservice go unpunished. Like a fine wine, revenge is sweeter if you allow it to mature.”

  “Hear me out, Ari. Crowder hasn’t gone this far to let you get away again.”

  “I’ll take my chance on that.” He nodded to Craike. “I’m done with her. She’s yours. I’d enjoy seeing you finish her personally.”

  Damn Ar
i to hell. Cara needed to buy time. If Craike decided to finish her quickly, she couldn’t escape a clean shot from a bolt gun. She thought fast. Mercy wasn’t his style. Craike’s one weakness was that he enjoyed the killing process. He enjoyed inflicting pain.

  He was also very good at it.

  Cold sweat prickled her brow, and she fought to keep her hands from shaking. She couldn’t win if everything went by the book.

  She focused on Craike, waiting for him to move. “I thought you might be man enough to finish this yourself, Ari. You know my strengths and weaknesses as well as anyone, or is it only in bed where you feel you can beat me?”

  Ari was silent for a few moments and then he smiled. “Robert is an expert.”

  Craike’s tongue flickered out to lick his lips in anticipation and he moved forward, reaching for his side arm.

  She couldn’t wait. She launched herself at Ari, trying to keep him between her and Craike. She grabbed his neck, not a great chokehold, but good enough. Ari shoved backward hard and hurled her against the wall. She took most of the impact on her shoulder and protected her head. She turned to face Craike, praying she wouldn’t find herself staring into the muzzle of his bolt gun. Ari had fallen to his knees, gasping and holding his throat, too close to Cara for a bolt. Craike would have to get her away from Ari or finish it hand-to-hand.

  She was aware of a noise behind her, the guards. Craike signaled them to stand back. He wouldn’t want it known that he needed rescuing. Hell, he didn’t need rescuing—she did.

  She buried all negative thoughts. They were as likely to get her killed as anything. Even while she was thinking that, Craike came at her, one-two. She avoided his right, but took a punch to the side of her head that set her ears ringing. He followed it with a foot to the guts that she barely rode, and though she countered with a backhand, it connected very lightly. She barely avoided a chop to her throat and twisted, off balance. His foot connected hard with her ribs. Something cracked. It should hurt like hell, but adrenaline buffered the pain.

  Rolling, she went for his knees with her feet. He stepped back and hit the wall. Her hand connected with the leg of a small lightweight stool. Hurling it cost her a sharp jab under her left breast, but she didn’t let that stop the long arc of the throw. Craike raised a hand to deflect it, but one leg still socked him in the mouth and up under his nose. It was enough to shock him and set his eyes watering.

  It was a lucky strike. She doubled her knees under her, pushed upward favoring her left side, and thrust her right shoulder into his diaphragm, knocking him hard against the far wall. There was an audible “oof” as she drove the breath from his lungs. She dived for Craike’s bolt gun and, before the two mercs could react, she grabbed it, brought it into line, and blasted a crater in the top of Craike’s head at point-blank range. Then she turned it toward Ari, but her luck had run out.

  A tangler cord around her knees sent her crashing to the floor and the mercs brought her down in seconds. She got off one more shot, but it went high and wide. One guard yanked her arms above her head and slapped on a pair of ferraflex wrist shackles. She screamed once as her cracked rib stabbed, but he held her firm. The other guard twisted the cord tight around her ankles. Between them, they trussed her like a spit-roast chicken.

  Ari’s breathing rasped. He rubbed his throat and staggered toward Craike, slumped in a bloody heap, and folded to his knees. “Robert?” The word came as a ragged gasp. Ari took Craike’s chin in his hand and straightened the ruined head. “Oh, Robert.” He bent over and tenderly kissed Craike’s bloodied lips.

  He never once kissed me on the lips like that, Cara thought. Shock ran through her. She got Craike’s attraction to Ari, but she’d never realized it was reciprocated. Maybe it hadn’t been in the early days, but it certainly was now. Were Ari’s feelings for her ever real, or had he only been playing her for inside information on missions?

  Time was frozen. Even the guards didn’t intrude on Ari’s grief.

  Slowly he stood and turned toward her, eyes red-rimmed, mouth clamped in a tight line.

  “Would you have wept like that for me, Ari?” she asked.

  He clamped both fists together and used them as a hammer to smash into her unprotected diaphragm. Cara convulsed with the pain of it. All the breath went out of her, and she couldn’t seem to suck more in. Her world faded to gray.

  • • •

  “She tried to kill me, Mrs. McLellan!” Ari heard his own voice, unusually high-pitched and full of distress. It didn’t sound like him. He swallowed hard and fought for control. “She killed Robert. That overrules any other disservice she might ever have done me.”

  He took a deep breath. Then another.

  “I want her to lose something she loves . . . and then I want her to die very painfully. You’ve got an hour at most to prepare. Don’t let me down again.”

  “Again? With respect, Mr. van Blaiden, I haven’t let you down once. I warned you all along that I hadn’t had enough time to do a proper job.” She clamped her teeth together on whatever else she’d been going to say, took a breath, and started again. “Ensign Keely’s readying your ship. Why don’t we take Carlinni with us? I can do a much better job back on Sentier-4.”

  He screwed his right hand into a fist and held it firmly with his left—the only way he could stop himself from backhanding McLellan across the face.

  “She kills Benjamin in an hour and then she dies. I want her compliant, but I want her to know what she’s done.”

  “That’s delicate work. An hour isn’t—”

  “Enough excuses. Just do it! Or Sentier-4 will need a new head of Neural Readjustment.”

  She paled, and he saw fear in her eyes.

  “Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir, we’re clear.”

  • • •

  She couldn’t see either of them, but the silence that followed spoke volumes. Donida McLellan and Ari van Blaiden weren’t such easy partners in crime. And make no mistake, what they’d done to her, between them, was criminal. A well of anger, dark and deep, swirled in the pit of Cara’s stomach. Whatever Donida McLellan thought she could do to her, she’d find a way to fight it.

  “Put her in the chair. Strap her down.” Cara heard the voice but still couldn’t see McLellan. She couldn’t miss the mercs, however. They hauled her upright and pressed her into a chair, strapping her wrists to the padded arms. Every movement exploded in a separate agony. Her cracked rib was on fire. Every breath hurt.

  “Now then.” McLellan stared into her eyes. “Let’s see how you managed to beat me so soon.”

  Cara felt her head splitting apart as Donida McLellan bludgeoned her way into her mind, tearing out recent memories, discarding them, snatching others.

  “Ah-ha!” There was triumph in her voice. “A memory stone.” She patted Cara’s arms, finding the small bulge in her left sleeve pocket. She quickly unsealed it, fished out the stone, smiled smugly, and popped it into her own pocket. “Now let’s see how well you do.”

  Cara saw the stone go and felt her life slip away with it. No. Please. Bring it back.

  But McLellan just laughed and then slipped into her mind, more subtly this time, not like a sledgehammer but like a stiletto.

  There was overwhelming pressure to do nothing to harm Ari van Blaiden or by inaction allow him to be harmed.

  Of course, that was a given. Ari had always been her top priority, hadn’t he?

  Like a stiletto.

  Steadily, a picture of Ari built in her brain, from his blue, blue eyes to his shiny boots.

  Like a stiletto between . . .

  Ari. Loyalty, admiration, respect.

  Like a stiletto between the ribs!

  Love!

  That was a lie . . . she might have loved him once, but not now. In fact, she’d never really loved him because the Ari she thought she loved was an artificial construct. She gasped at the realization, and fire shot through her left side. Ribs! Use the pain. But how? She needed the memory ston
e. No! She needed a memory of the memory stone.

  She breathed in sharply again, and her ribs seared. She pictured clamping her left hand to the pain. Between the first and second fingers of that hand she pictured a stone, wedged in, tight enough to be uncomfortable.

  She breathed in again. Pain; hand to side; memory stone.

  Again. Pain; hand to side; memory stone.

  As Donida McLellan ate into her brain, she breathed in time and time again. Pain; hand to side; memory stone.

  Yes!

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  TERMINAL

  “Will you be all right now?” Mrs. McLellan’s face was all concern. She handed Cara a cup of water.

  “I think so, thanks.” She sipped the water and tried to clear her head. “You’ve been very patient with me. I’m sorry to be such a prima donna.”

  “Oh, no problems. I’ve seen agents far more messed up than you are. Still, you did have a tough time. I know Mr. van Blaiden was very concerned, especially about the rape. We didn’t think Benjamin would go that far. Nothing in his profile suggested it.”

  “It’s all right, honestly. I can’t even remember it. You’ve done a great job. Still, I’d appreciate the chance to get even with Benjamin.”

  “I believe Mr. van Blaiden is arranging for you to do just that. For closure.”

  Cara grasped the arms of her chair to stand herself upright, and a pain shot through her left side. She gasped and put her hand to her ribs.

  “Rib bothering you? Benjamin was rough. Here’s a blast pack of analgesic.”

  Cara reached out with her left hand to take the shot, and stared at it, briefly puzzled that she wasn’t holding anything between her first two fingers. She shook her head and slapped the analgesic to the side of her neck feeling the warmth flood through her and chase away the lingering ache from her cracked rib. “That’s better. I’m ready now.”

  “Mr.van Blaiden is outside. He’s waiting for you.”

  Ari! A ripple of apprehension ran through Cara as she came down the ramp from the LV flanked by two mercs. Ari turned his blue, blue eyes on her, but instead of seeing her own affection reflected, she saw them cold and hard as diamonds. What had she done to displease him? What did she need to do to regain his approval? He wasn’t mad at her for Benjamin, was he? It was hardly her fault.