Death World

by B. V. Larson

  -48-

  When we finally got close to Earth, my heart grew heavy. Everyone else seemed excited. They were watching the forward observation view screens every night as old Sol got bigger and brighter. Finally, we could make out the white specks of planets we came out of warp.

  Earth herself, blue-green and wreathed in white clouds, was lovely. But I didn’t feel like celebrating.

  My planet was still there, but my family wasn’t. Sure, I’d teased myself with fantasies. Maybe the casualty estimates were exaggerated. Maybe my parents had been lucky and found a bunker at the last minute….

  But I knew the odds of such things were astronomical. That’s why I didn’t bother to check the news vids, search the net, or anything like that during the final hour or so of our approach.

  Up until that point, due to relativistic effects, we’d been out of touch with Earth. Except for the very expensive use of a Galactic deep-link service, there was no way to communicate at a speed greater than light, other than using a starship for a courier service.

  Instead of messing with my tapper, I packed my gear and hiked down the ramps alone. My solitude didn’t last long. Della swooped out of nowhere and fell into step beside me. I smiled at her gratefully. I was glad to have a friend with me as I exited the big ship. Part of my mind was thinking about funeral arrangements, but I kept telling myself that must have been done by now. My relatives would have handled it. Facing grandparents and the like—that was going to be tough.

  Della seemed to be in a cheerful mood. She talked about places she wanted to visit with me when we went to Dust World. She claimed there were caverns with edible wild life that I simply had to experience. I did my best to match her mood.

  “James,” she said, tapping me on my shoulder. “Your parents should be out here, somewhere.”

  I frowned. Had she only just thought about that? Had it never occurred to her that this moment, returning home to Earth, was likely to be crushing to my spirit?

  She continued tapping me, and she pointed off into the crowd. Still wearing a long face, I followed her gesture.

  It took several seconds for what I was seeing to sink in. When it did, I stopped walking down the ramp and stared, jaw sagging.

  “How could they…?” I asked. “Did they get revived?”

  “No. Didn’t you read your tapper? They sent us both a message an hour ago.”

  I stared at Della, and she stared back.

  “You mean, you didn’t know?” she asked.

  “Uh…”

  I started walking again. What else could I do? My legs felt numb. It was silly when I thought about it. Here I was, a man who’d died a dozen times in all sorts of violent encounters, stunned by the simple fact my parents had mysteriously survived.

  Now that I was out in the open on the spaceport puff-crete pavement, I could tell they’d been working hard to repair the place but hadn’t quite managed it. The dark hulk of the spacecraft had formed a new hillock about where the old terminal building had been.

  As far as I could see, the aliens had managed a direct hit on the spaceport. Even the puff-crete pavement had been damaged. The area I was walking on right now was clearly fresh-poured and had the mottled pinkish white texture to prove it. Aged puff-crete tended to get dirty and turn gray over time.

  I broke into a trot and started grinning. By the time I managed to fight through the crowds to my folks, I was laughing like a loon. Sweeping them up in my big arms, I lifted them both in the air. My dad was a big fellow, almost as big as I was, but gravity couldn’t hold him to the Earth.

  “Wow,” Mom said, “that’s the most enthusiastic greeting I’ve ever gotten from my son!”

  “Same here!” my dad said. “Who stole my sour teenager and made him a happy man?”

  Staring at one of them and then the next, I shook my head. “I thought you two were permed for sure,” I told them. “How did you get revived? You must have had your data stored somehow—but for civilians, that’s not cheap. I don’t get it.”

  My mom looked at my father reproachfully. She slapped at him, and he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “I told you we’d never fool him,” she said. “Your father thought we could just greet you here and act like nothing had happened. I knew that was never going to wash.”

  Confused, I frowned at them both. My mom moved toward Della, who looked wary, but she allowed herself to be hugged. Hugging wasn’t a typical social activity on Dust World. Della had never looked comfortable with hugs, but she’d learned to tolerate them.

  We all walked toward the parking lot. Around us, the crowd was melting away like frost on an April morning.

  “I guess I have to explain,” my father said at last.

  “That’s right, you do,” Mom said.

  “Well, you see, it was like this. After you left us at the gate, we were supposed to go up to the stands and listen to the speeching and clapping for the next half hour while your legion stood at attention in the sun.”

  “That’s exactly what we were supposed to do,” my mom interrupted, “but we’ve never actually done it.”

  “And it’s a damned good thing this time, isn’t it?” my father demanded.

  “Hold on,” I said, interrupting. “Are you two telling me that you weren’t here when the ship crashed into the spaceport?”

  “That’s right,” Dad said. “And for that, I’m a hero, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “What you are is impatient,” Mom said. “Just like James.” She turned to me, and her face softened. “Your father has never been able to sit still long enough to watch a ceremony—any ceremony. He would’ve walked out on our own wedding and taken a nap in the car if I’d let him. It’s disgusting. Every time you leave Earth, James, I wonder if you’ll ever come back, and this man prevents me from seeing you one last time!”

  “You always leave?” I asked them, still incredulous. “Every time?”

  My father squirmed visibly. “Well…there are like ten thousand troops out there, you know, all lined up. There’s no way we can even pick out your face in the crowd.”

  Suddenly, I laughed. I laughed long and loud. My dad was just like me. An impatient, rule-breaking, corner-cutter. An expert truth-bender who covered things up to protect other people’s feelings.

  On the drive home, I thought about all the moping around I’d done on this voyage. There’d been plenty of quiet moments in my bunk at night, soul-searching and grieving. It had all been for nothing.

  But I didn’t care now, because I had my family back. I was happy for the first time in months.

  * * *

  Several happy days followed. My mom spent most of that time planning our trip to Dust World. Della stayed with us again, and we got reacquainted. All in all, it was a great homecoming.

  On the first Monday morning after returning home, however, a knock came at my door. Della wasn’t with me as she usually spent the early hours wandering the woods out in back of my parents’ place. She loved the earthly wilderness. Being from Dust World, she was very much the outdoor type, but she was accustomed to deserts with small oases of alien life. There wasn’t anything like the swampy terrain of southern Georgia where she was from.

  I opened the door, yawning. Of all the people I expected to see, the face that greeted me in the bright white light had to be near the bottom of the list.

  “Claver?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing sneaking around in my swamp?”

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  Frowning at him, I moved to block the doorway. “Tell me what this is about first.”

  Claver looked over his shoulder, one way then the other. “I don’t know if it’s safe out here.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  Claver sighed, realizing I wasn’t going to let him come inside. “All right, I’m going to tell you, and you’ll have to make a big decision. Try to make the right choice this time, for all our sakes.”

  Feeling a rumble in my belly
, I was annoyed. It was too early in the morning for one of Claver’s twisted schemes. Heaving a sigh, I nodded. “Talk. Talk fast.”

  “You and I have enemies, McGill.”

  I chuckled. “You mean you do. Like everyone who lost a family member back at the spaceport, for instance.”

  “A gruesome tragedy, I’m sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he cared at all. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. Think back: who did you piss off on Death World?”

  Squinting, I tried to recollect the list. It seemed to be long and distinguished.

  “We talking about my personal relationships? Or how about aliens? Do they count?”

  Claver made an irritable motion with his hand, erasing my words. “No. I’m talking about your superiors. People who can actually avenge themselves upon you directly.”

  “Hmmm,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Well, Turov was angry on and off, but I think we reached an understanding. As to other officers, I know Graves wasn’t happy about—”

  “I’m talking about Primus Winslade,” Claver interrupted impatiently. “You two killed one another. He almost got the last laugh, but Turov stopped him.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” I said, scratching disinterestedly. “What about him?”

  “He’s made his move. He’s taken out Turov.”

  Finally, at long last, he had my full attention. “He what?”

  “He found out about the key. He must have seen you use it or something—anyway, Turov turned up dead, and the key is missing. That’s all I know.”

  I stared at him for a long second while the gears in my head clicked. It was a painful affair before my first cup of coffee.

  “I remember now,” I said. “Back when Turov ordered him to arrest me. She wanted the key back—but I wouldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t figure out why she was putting up with me. I saw the confusion and suspicion on his face. Galina and I were hinting around about a deal, and I gave it back to her in the end, after she made a few concessions.”

  Claver snorted. “I heard about that. You’re a goat in the woods, boy.”

  Shaking my head, I denied his accusation, but I could tell he didn’t believe me, so I switched subjects after a few minutes of discussion.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “You think Winslade killed Turov and took her key. I get that. What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Do? What do you think? We have to go see him. We’ve got to cut a deal with him.”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes. He knows that we both know about the key, fool. That means we have to die.”

  I stared at him. “We have to die? Why’s that?”

  Claver rolled his eyes at me. I hated that. “I’ve got an air car,” he said. “We can be up at Central in two hours. Are you coming or not?”

  “I don’t think I need to go anywhere. I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you never have, you old snake.”

  Claver shrugged, knowing I had him there. “All right,” he said. “I’ll handle this myself. If I do it badly, you and your folks and your woman and the baby—they can all fend for themselves after that.”

  “You’re threatening me? Right here on my own property?”

  “I’m giving you a friendly warning, boy. Winslade is the threat, not me. He’s not like Turov. He’s a better officer in some ways, but he’s got a mean streak in him. Remember what he did to me in that chair? Remember what he did to you?”

  Nodding slowly, I had to admit that Turov had never tortured anyone to death. Hell, I’d pulled a gun on her at least as many times as she’d pulled one on me. We had a working relationship. It wasn’t based on trust, exactly, but we did understand one another.

  “You’ve got a point,” I said. “If I had to choose between Turov and Winslade—I’d take Turov in a heartbeat.”

  Claver gave me another dirty grin. “There’s another reason I can think of: you won’t be getting any fringe benefits out of the deal with Winslade in charge.”

  “Fine, I’ll go,” I said, and I went back inside to get a few things.

  I heard something strange when my back was turned. It was something like a squawk, the kind of noise a surprised chicken might make.

  Stepping back outside and shrugging on a jacket, I froze.

  Claver was face down on the muddy path leading to my parents’ place. A foot was planted on the small of his back, and a naked blade was drawing a red line on the back of his neck.

  “Della?” I said. “Girl, why are you mistreating my guest?”

  “He’s not a guest here,” she said. “He never will be. He’s a villain, James. Can’t you see that?”

  “Yeah, he sure is. But today, I have business with this villain. Can you let him up or have you already severed his carotid?”

  Reluctantly, Della let Claver up. He climbed to his feet and brushed himself off.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” he demanded. “I didn’t see a thing.”

  “You weren’t meant to,” she said.

  “Why the hostility? I haven’t done you any harm.”

  “You threatened my daughter and James’ family. I listened to it all. I’m already regretting my decision to leave you alive.”

  He looked at Della in concern. For me, it was all in a day’s work, but I could tell Claver was spooked by her. It did my heart good to see it.

  “You keep strange company, McGill,” he said.

  “Della’s always been a free spirit,” I explained.

  “That’s what you call this murderess?”

  “Normally, I’d be offended,” I said. “But she has killed me several times in the past, so…”

  “Are you coming with me or not?” Claver asked. “Time is wasting.”

  “Take me too, James,” Della said. Since letting Claver onto his feet, she’d kept her knife aimed at his left eyeball, with her arm cocked back for a thrust. He didn’t dare pull a weapon.

  “Nah,” I said. “Why don’t you stay here and protect my folks for me? Just in case this is all some kind of scheme to lure me away from home?”

  Della glanced at me with a fresh worry on her face. “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Anything’s possible when you’re dealing with Claver.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence,” Claver said, grinning.

  A few minutes later, I climbed into Claver’s air car and was whisked away into the skies. I had no idea what was really in store for me. I figured I’d just have to play it by ear when we got to Central.

  -49-

  Claver knew that Winslade wouldn’t just let us march up to his office in Central and start chewing him out. So, he used what he always did in these situations: money.

  In my era, unfortunately, Hegemony had more than its share of corruption. The core of the problem seemed to stem from the flow of too much credit through too few hands. When the government awarded a trillion credits to Hegemony and ordered them to build a fleet, it was damned near certain that a few hundred billion of that digital currency ended up in questionable places.

  There were the small time grifters: Tribunes and the like who bought their family members fancy new air cars and paid for them with bribes offered by contractors. Then there was the big kind of thievery: sectors paying off officials to place new facilities in their territory rather than the other guy’s. It was my guess that this kind of thing had always gone on in large organizations throughout time.

  With all that wealth flying around, you’d think people would have had an easy time finding honest work—but they didn’t. In my world, every mistake a person made was tracked by some computer or another. Vids were stored in the data cores forever and universally available on the net. That meant there were a lot of people who couldn’t get jobs—so they had to survive by other means.

  Claver had found such a person. An ex-hegemony veteran by the name of Jonathan Sloane. He’d done something wrong that he couldn�
��t erase, and he’d been kicked out of the service by none other than Primus Winslade himself. We picked him up in Wilmington then pressed on toward Central.

  “You’re sure you can fix the security systems?” Sloane asked Claver for about the tenth time.

  I kept my mouth shut, partly because I didn’t really know what Claver was capable of. I’d seen him perform some pretty amazing stunts before—but then again, we were talking about Central itself this time. I couldn’t blame Sloane for having doubts.

  “Of course I can,” scoffed Claver with absolute certainty in his voice. He sounded like he was offended that Sloane would even dare to doubt him.

  We glided in on a regulated approach-corridor toward a mammoth building. Central was as impressive a sight as ever. The three of us dropped lightly onto a spur of puff-crete that stuck out from the side of the mountainous structure. The landing pad looked like a hand lifted palm-up toward heaven.

  Sloane was sitting in the passenger seat with his arms crossed. He was becoming nervous now that we were actually here, I could tell.

  “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Look,” Claver said, “I told Winslade I’m flying in to show him how to use a new piece of hardware he’s acquired. You’ll just have to wear the belt, and it will make you look like me. When you get in there, do your business and get out fast.”

  “And why, again, should I trust you?”

  Claver grunted in annoyance and tapped at the belt Sloane was wearing. “Turn it on. Let’s test it.”

  Sloane looked at the belt suspiciously. He thumbed the button, but didn’t push it.

  “Come on,” Claver said. “What do you think? It’s a bomb? I’m not trying to blow us all up!”

  Reluctantly, Sloane pushed the button.

  The effect was immediate and amazing. He transformed into the spitting image of Claver himself. Even the clothes were right—everything.

  Claver chuckled. “Check the passenger-side mirrors.”

  Sloane did so, and he whistled long and loud. “I do look exactly like you!” he said, marveling.

  The belt and the box were, of course, from Tech World. The people known as the Tau on that planet wore these devices instead of clothing. They could project imagery that made a person look like they were dressed in any color or fashion they liked. Claver had clearly tampered with the box to make it project his own face on top of Sloane’s.