by Lyn Gala
The valley stayed narrow, even narrower than the one where the Livre Communication Relay sat. However, the floor of the valley quickly dropped far below the level of the sand dunes, with rock walls on either side. Small valleys like this sometimes had dunes crash over the top, burying them, and Temar eyed the top of the rocky walls as the air started to clear.
“How deep is this?” Temar asked. He hadn’t known there was anything west of the relay, but this felt… wrong. It was too deep, and the walls didn’t have the worn edges of the Landing Valley.
“Deep,” Shan shouted back. “Is it just me, or does this look almost like it’s been cut?”
Now that Shan said it, Temar could see the evidence. The slope of the valley floor was too sharp—the walls were too straight. It reminded Temar of the relay station and all the unnatural angles. “Did the settlers have machines that could have done this?” Temar asked.
Shan shifted the bike into another gear, and the roar turned into a rumble as they slowed. “I don’t think so, but explorers and military units were on Livre before it was opened for settlement. I know one of the planets tried to set up mining here, but the cost of importing everything the miners demanded was more than the optic glass exports were worth. I guess setters and a terraforming setup were cheaper in the long run.”
With that, Shan guided the bike into a corner formed by the straight wall and a fallen chunk of rock with two square edges. “We should walk from here.” Shan stared straight ahead, his sand scarf and goggles obscuring his expression.
“Why?” Temar asked.
Shan looked over his shoulder, but the gray dust covering Shan hid his emotions. “You can stay here,” Shan said. From his jacket, he pulled out a long bar that Temar hadn’t seen him put in there. Reality hit him. Guards. These people would have put guards on the place if they were nervous. Shan was talking about fighting their own people.
Taking a deep breath, Temar squared his shoulders. “I’m going with you.” For a second, Shan looked at him, but then he nodded and swung his leg off the bike. Since he was shorter, Temar had to scramble a little to get off, but when he did, he grabbed for Shan’s arm. “You’re a priest. You shouldn’t have to….” Temar looked down at the pipe. The simple fact was that Shan was taller and heavier, even if he had lost a lot of weight recently. Temar wouldn’t have the same strength behind his hits, but he figured he should be the one fighting, since Shan was a priest.
Shan pulled his goggles off and wiped a hand over his eyes. “I’ll ask God to forgive me later,” Shan said, his voice trembling with emotion. “But I won’t stand by and watch children I’ve baptized condemned because of men like Ben Gratu. That isn’t moral.” Shan’s voice was cold on the last part, and Temar could feel a tremor of fear. Then Shan pulled his hand away from his eyes, and Temar could see the pain in them.
“I’ll be there with you,” Temar promised, and the look Shan gave him was almost grateful.
“Just don’t stand so close I accidentally hit you with this. It’s been a long time since I played stickball or tried to hit anyone.” Shan’s attempt at humor sounded strained and painful, but Temar smiled anyway.
“That’s fair. And Shan?”
“Yes?”
Temar closed his mouth, not sure what to say, but he had to say something about how much Shan had meant to him… how much Shan had helped him. Despite the fact that Temar hadn’t given him anything more than a vague clue, Shan had followed it. Because Temar had kept Ben’s secret, Shan had nearly died, and he never blamed Temar. When Temar felt dirtied by Ben’s touch, the fact that Shan still felt desire made him almost believe…. Temar struggled to put a word to it. He almost felt whole. It made Temar think that maybe people could see him and not focus only on those bruises. For the longest time, Temar felt like he didn’t exist, like the hand-shaped bruises on his thighs were real, and he was the shadow that wore them. But Shan had seen those marks… he’d seen the belt marks on the backs of his legs, and he still saw Temar. He still wanted Temar, even when Temar flinched from a simple touch
“Thank you,” Temar said, the words catching in his throat.
Shan looked confused. “For what?”
Temar chewed on his lower lip, his thoughts too chaotic to explain how much it all meant to him. Shan dropped his gaze to the ground between them for a moment before reaching out to slowly touch Temar on the shoulder. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? After all, it was a hallucination of you that got me through the desert.”
Temar smiled and gave a nod. He didn’t have anything to do with that. As much as Temar sometimes doubted the existence of God, he suspected that God had more to do with Shan’s hallucinations that he did. However, he was glad his image had helped Shan. Overhead, streaks of gray and tan stained the sky as the wind ripped the sand across the face of Livre.
“So, let’s take care of this,” Shan said, his face suddenly grim.
Temar unwound his sand scarf and wrapped it around his right hand before he made a fist. He didn’t have to answer because Shan was moving down the valley, staying close to the side and taking advantage of the fact that the sunlight didn’t actually reach the ground. It hit the sand cloud over head and illuminated every grain of sand, so that the sky glowed like overheated glass. However that meant that the sunlight couldn’t shine down, so they were in a strange twilight.
Running in silence, Temar fought an urge to cough. Ahead he could see a black square that had the same perfect lines of the relay or the council house in Landing. There was a metal building up ahead. Shan stopped behind a rock and crouched down, and Temar found his own hiding spot several yards behind Shan.
Shan held up a hand and pointed, and Temar nodded, even though Shan didn’t bother to turn and look at the gesture. Slowly, Shan moved closer, but Temar waited, watching the valley. He couldn’t see anyone, and his guts were tangled in one big knot.
Without a sound, Shan darted out from behind his rock, his weapon raised. Temar couldn’t see anyone in the deep shadow, but he could hear the pained cry as someone went down. Crouching low, Temar raced forward, terrified that Shan needed him and he wasn’t there to help. When he got close, he could see a body lying in the dust, Shan standing over him, staring down.
“Shan?” The stillness frightened Temar.
“I know him,” Shan said, his eyes still on the person lying on the ground. Temar looked down, and he could see the chest slowly rise and fall, but the man’s limbs were thrown out at awkward angles. “I know him,” Shan repeated, softer this time. Temar opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find any words to say. Before he could blurt out something inappropriate, Shan shook himself free of the paralysis and looked toward the door. “If they have a patrol, they’re going to know we’re here now.”
“So, we go in?”
Shan looked over. “Or we give up and run like hell.” His tone made it clear that he wouldn’t blame Temar if he picked option two.
“We go in,” Temar said, heading for the door. Part of him said they’d be better off running and coming back with a plan and a whole lot of help, but with the storm, neither was possible. Shan reached out and caught his arm, and Temar couldn’t help that moment of fear that made him flinch away. Shan let his hand drop.
“Let me go first. I look like about half the planet, Temar. I’m downright average as long as no one looks at the nose too long. They see me first, and they’re going to hesitate as they wonder who I am. They see you, and they’re going to know exactly who you are. You should stay behind me.”
“I can fight,” Temar said. Ever since he’d lain under Ben, biting his lip to keep from screaming, he’d been ready to fight. He felt the anger, like an itch under his skin, and he was ready for a fight.
Nodding, Shan agreed. “I know you can, but we may need those few extra seconds.”
Temar clenched his teeth, but he didn’t protest when Shan moved in front of him, pipe still in hand. The door was closed, but at Shan’s push, the heavy metal slid back, and co
oler air from a deep cave drifted up, bathing them. Temar breathed in the scent of metal and something that smelled of blood. He exchanged a concerned look with Shan, but then Shan was moving into the dark.
The first room was pitch black, but a glow at the far end led them toward a hall that took a ninety-degree turn and was illuminated with lights set into the wall every six inches. The whole floor sloped down into the bowels of the artificial cave. Temar couldn’t help but think that this was an incredible waste of resources. “What is this place?” he whispered, but his words seemed to echo along the bare walls.
Shan gave a helpless shrug and kept moving. Temar heard footsteps long before he saw anyone, and Shan started pulling at doors until he found one that was unlocked. He yanked the door open, holding it for Temar to duck inside before following. Shan stood with his hand on the door as the footsteps passed them in the hall.
In a voice little more than a breath, Shan said, “We have to assume that they’ll find Devin.”
“Who?”
Shan gave Temar an odd look. “The man I hit.”
“Oh.”
With a deep breath, Shan opened the door and headed back into the hall. Temar felt an odd calm, as if his soul had just gotten so tired of being scared that it had gone numb. He tried to swallow, but his throat was so dry that the sides stuck together, and he had to fight down another urge to cough as he followed Shan out into the hall. Shan was trotting now, moving so fast that Temar had to break into a jog to keep up.
Voices echoed ahead of him, and Temar could feel his head getting light and overstuffed at the same time. It took him a little longer than it should have to realize he’d stopped breathing, but then his body wasn’t really talking to his mind at this point. He could feel his muscles tremble, but he couldn’t quite feel the emotion that generated that excess energy. He should be afraid. He should be terrified. And it really should have occurred to Temar that the two of them were heading into the mountain with no real plan. Next time someone tried to set up a giant water conspiracy, Temar was going to insist on being the one to make the plans, because Cyla and Shan both lacked any kind of skill at the matter.
Shan stopped and pointed straight down. Temar frowned as he looked at the stone floor. While he felt more than a little awe at the tool that could cut so smoothly, he didn’t think this was the time for sightseeing. He gave Shan a confused look. Silently and slowly, Shan reached out and tugged at Temar’s shirt, pulling him forward until Temar could see down the grate set into that smooth, stone floor under Shan’s feet. Below them, pipes rumbled, and steam sluggishly swirled through the air. Steam. Temar figured he was about the only person on all of Livre to see both steam and mud on this water-starved world. The mud had horrified him, the sheer waste of water made him ill, but this was worse. The steam that slowly rose from the machinery below them had been intentionally stolen.
Kneeling down, Shan wrapped his fingers around the grate and pulled, small grunts the only sign of how much effort he was putting into it. Nothing moved. Temar got down on the ground, the stone floor nearly crushing his kneecaps as he tried to help.
Shan’s face was set in a mask of frustration as he pulled a tool out of a pocket and started working the bolts on the side. His arm flew as he worked the bolt, little clicking sounds as the tool loosened it with every crank. Standing up, Temar looked nervously down one way and then the other. If the person who passed found the guard, he or she would come running back through here or call lots and lots of people to run up through here, but either way, they’d be caught.
When Shan finally got the last bolt out and dropped it into his pocket, he breathed in hungry gasps and knelt with both hands braced against the floor. Temar pulled at the grate, straining when the heavy metal resisted before scraping against the stone sides of the hole. However, it finally did lift, and Temar braced his knee against it to hold it up.
Leaning so close that Temar could smell the musk of his sweat, Shan whispered, “Wait here.” Temar opened his mouth to object, but Shan lay on his stomach, and his top half vanished into the hole. He was the mechanic. If someone had to break something, he was the reasonable choice for doing the breaking. However, Temar’s arm hair rose as he held the grate open, and Shan vanished into the machines. Temar didn’t hear thuds or screaming, so he assumed that Shan had found a way down into the mechanical room that didn’t involve falling twenty feet to the floor below.
Before he could even consider following, a woman appeared in the hall that led out to the surface. Temar knelt on one knee, his other leg bracing the grate as he stared at her, something locking both of them in place. Her eyes were wide, and Temar distantly noticed that she looked familiar… from the church, maybe. He could see her mouth come open, and he lurched forward, the grate clattering into place with a huge racket, like a hundred pieces of glass hitting the ground all at once. The metal almost bounced on the stone, and the resulting rattle echoed forever.
Temar launched himself at the woman, tackling her with a shoulder in the stomach, and her yell cut off suddenly. It was almost a chirp of a scream—cut short before it could reach full volume. However, Temar figured that by dropping the grate, he’d already made enough noise to get the entire group’s attention. So, their only hope of saving the water was for Temar to keep their attention until Shan could finish.
Struggling back to his feet, Temar tried to run for the exit, figuring he’d make enough noise to pull them out after him. However, the woman on the ground caught his leg and wrapped her whole body around it. Maybe Temar might have felt bad about kicking a stranger before he’d found out about the water, before he’d found his own anger and hate in Ben’s bed. Now he kicked with his one free leg. She gave a pained squawk, but she held on through two more of Temar’s hardest kicks until he finally wrenched his leg away from her and started stumbling back.
He could hear footsteps pounding down the hall, and Temar turned and ran for the exit, pausing at the place where the hall took its ninety-degree turn out into the open air of Livre. He needed them to see him. He needed to pull the attackers away from Shan. The first man to come racing from farther in the mountain slid to a stop near the woman Temar had kicked. She was curled on her side, her arms cradling her stomach, and Temar watched from sixty or seventy yards down the hall. It wasn’t a great head start, but if they came after him, they were going to have a hell of a time catching up with him on foot. He could outrun them until Shan had saved the water.
Two more people appeared—a man with sunset-colored hair and a tall woman with a hawk’s face. They both started running for Temar, and Temar prepared to dash away on his mission, but a voice called them all to a halt.
“Leave him!” Temar’s guts felt like water—like they were sloshing around inside his skin as he recognized Ben’s voice. “He wouldn’t be here alone. Dusty, check the fuel lines. Juke, get to command.”
Everyone stayed frozen as Ben came strolling out of the hidden base as casually as if he was crossing Landing’s town center to go to church. “The boy’s not going to walk in here alone. I know him. Dusty, Juke, check everything. We only have one chance at this.” Ben stopped several feet short of the woman Temar had kicked. “Tyson, get Karan up to the ship and see if the doc can’t give her something for the pain and get her settled into a medbed.”
Ben gave a sad little laugh and shook his head before he looked right at Temar, and time stopped. If Temar’s internal organs had turned to water before, they were now sloshing around inside until Temar wanted to vomit. There was seventy yards between them, but Temar could feel Ben’s hands on him, and he had to carefully control his body to keep it from shaking apart into pieces.
“My little sandrat wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have a sandcat out there hunting the dunes for him, would you?” he asked in that sweet tone of voice that always meant Temar would suffer.
“You’re a thief,” Temar spit out.
“I’m taking what my grandparents were promised… a terraformed planet or
a ticket off.” Ben spread his arms out, and as if he were a magician, time seemed to pick up where it left off. The man with the sunset hair and his partner turned and raced back into the base, and the man who had stopped to help the woman Temar had kicked lifted her into his arms with a grunt and started after them. That left Temar and Ben and a length of hallway that seemed to grow shorter by the second.
Frustration made Temar’s hands curl into fists. All he had to do was distract the thieves until Shan could figure out how to break their valves and save the water. He couldn’t even do that right. “You’re stealing from everyone on the planet. You’re a murderer.” Temar spit the words out.
Ben gave an amused snort. “You tell the inner planets that. Their feud is killing the planet. I’m just getting off while the getting is good. So, who did you bring with you, Temar? It wouldn’t have been a council attack party. Trust me, I would have heard the rumors if you’d gone to any of the councils. Ever since Ista panicked, I’ve wondered whether that priest who worried so much about you actually died out in that desert. That was sloppy work. I would have made sure to put a bullet in his head and then watch the sandcats drag his body parts out into the dunes if I wanted him dead.” Ben sounded oddly amused by his own words, but then he always had been. Temar could feel his breath coming in little gasps. They were both so very dead, and Ben was still going to get his way.
“Shan?” Ben shouted. “Shan, are you lurking around here, somewhere?”
Temar held his breath. He’d shout for Shan to stay hidden, only that would pretty much confirm that Shan was alive and hopefully breaking the machinery that turned their stolen water into fuel.
“No comment on that, boy? Maybe you learned to keep your mouth closed.” Ben gave another chuckle as he walked over to the grate, which had landed with one corner stuck up in the air as another corner fell down into the hole. “So, who’s down there?”
Temar stood in silence, fighting his own fear with so much of his heart that he didn’t have time to bother with Ben. He was too busy fighting his own fear and his irrational urge to beg for Ben not to hurt him. That hadn’t worked well last time, and Temar suspected it wouldn’t work any better now. He had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid saying the words, anyway.
