Graveyard of Empires

by Lincoln Cole

  Vivian stepped out into the hall and gingerly shut the door behind her. “Who might you be?”

  “Oliver Atchison, at your service,” the other man said, bowing low. “I heard you were trying to buy water purifying equipment?”

  “And you’re here to sell it?”

  “Yes. I have several units I’m willing to part with.”

  “I want to deal in trade,” Vivian explained.

  Oliver nodded. “Bartholomew told me. You want to trade for your ship.”

  “It’s in dock B-7 right now.”

  “That’s an older model,” Oliver asserted, rubbing his chin. “But I’m not terribly picky. Would you be willing to let me see the ship first?”

  “Of course,” Vivian said. “Though I would like to be present.”

  Oliver nodded and glanced over at Bartholomew. “I appreciate you directing this my way,” he said.

  “Not a problem,” Bart said. “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “Just curious,” Oliver said, glancing at Vivian. “What are you planning to do with all of the purifying equipment once you buy it?”

  “That’s part of the deal. I need it dropped off at Garren’s Ridge on Mali.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “Sounds a little too good to be true,” Oliver said. “But I’m willing to float in the shallow end of the pool. Give me a day to talk to my business partners.”

  “We can meet tomorrow to discuss it.”

  “Of course. Thanks for your time.” Oliver shook hands with her and Bart and disappeared down the hallway, humming to himself. Vivian watched him step into the elevator, wondering what bothered her so much about him.

  He was handsome and spoke with a practiced ease. That alone flagged him as unsafe. He was the kind of person who could lie about which planet they were on without even a tremor in his voice.

  Vivian hated people like him. On principle. But then again, her animosity was on a personal level. If he was interested in making a fair trade, then there was little she could complain about.

  She turned to Bart. “Can I trust him?”

  “Oliver? He seems nice enough. Just chance I ran into him on the street.”

  Chance doesn’t exist with people like him

  “Your ship is worth a little less than a million?” Bart continued. Vivian nodded; she’d never had it formally priced, but that sounded right for the model. “He’s willing to give you one million and a half credits worth of equipment in trade. It’s difficult finding anyone willing to sell ships on Jaril, and he’ll have an easier time selling the ship at a high markup than he would selling purifiers.”

  Vivian nodded. It made sense and made Oliver sound like an enterprising businessman…still, something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was something he said or did during the conversation. It was like he’d been…studying her. “Was he the only person you asked?”

  Bart shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d have to ask anyone else, especially with time so short. What’s the likelihood of someone else being able to come up with twenty purifiers in a few days? Why, do you want me to do some more digging?”

  She shook her head. “No, he seems fine.” Actually, Oliver seemed like the common underworld scum that took advantage of people. He was handsome and smart, and he knew it. Maybe that was why she didn’t like him.

  But she wasn’t in the Republic, and right now his sort of underworld scum was exactly what she was looking for. At least, if she wanted to make a quick deal. “I’m going to get some food and turn in for the night. I really appreciate the help.”

  “I told you, it’s no issue. I’ll come by when Oliver contacts me tomorrow.”

  Bart shook her hand and disappeared down the hallway, leaving her alone. She went back inside and sat in her armchair. She had a faint feeling of unease as she unclipped her weapon and set it on the table, but it was the same feeling she’d had all day.

  Buy one-and-a-half million credits worth of purifiers in trade for a one-million credit ship? She’d always believed that if a deal sounded too good to be true, it usually was.

  Chapter 20

  Sector 4 – Alderson

  Jayson Coley

  1

  Jayson awoke to agony. He groaned and clenched his eyes, willing himself back to unconsciousness. It did no good. His body ached, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his head. It felt like someone had grabbed his skull on both sides and tried ripping it in half.

  For all he knew, someone had.

  “He’s awake,” someone screamed.

  “Don’t yell,” he mumbled. Or tried to. The words came out ‘ooh ell.’ He had cotton mouth and the back of his throat burned with stale bile. He must have vomited in his mouth. Yesterday. He swallowed, but that just made it worse.

  “What?” the person screamed again. It was a man. “Here.”

  Jayson felt his head lifted forward and the edge of a rough bowl touched his lips. Cool water drained into his mouth for a few seconds. He managed to swallow some of it but ended up coughing as it burned down his throat.

  He reached up and swatted the bowl away. Another fit of coughing wracked his body and he drew in a ragged breath of air. “I said, ‘don’t scream,’” he mumbled again, opening his eyes. The world was bright, painfully so, and swam in front of him. After a few seconds, he made out shapes: the base of a tree, some fallen leaves, and branches, underbrush.

  Jayson cocked his head to the side and saw Richard Dyson kneeling beside him. The other man’s clothes were torn and dirty and he had a bandage wrapped around his injured foot. His eyes were haggard, and he looked a full ten years older than he had before.

  “I’m barely whispering,” Richard said.

  To the left Jayson saw Tricia Jester. She stood at the edge of the little clearing he was lying in, lips pursed and lines creasing her forehead. Or as much of her forehead as he could see; the top of her head was wrapped thickly in strips of cloth. Her skin gleamed with stale sweat and her amber eyes were studying Jayson. She still looked lithe and beautiful despite the dirt and exhaustion lining her features.

  “So, we’re alive,” Jayson said. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “For now,” Richard replied.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Almost two days.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “I know,” Richard replied. “He did a real number on you. Shallow cuts mostly, but you lost a lot of blood.”

  Jayson took a deep breath and sat forward. His head spun for a few seconds from the exertion. He glanced down at his leg. His pants had been ripped open and his leg was wrapped in a bluish green strip of cloth. “Bandages?”

  “Shirts,” Richard replied. Jayson glanced at him: Richard’s shirt—which matched the color of the bandage—was missing the bottom six inches. Tricia’s was ripped as well; showing a generous portion of her well-toned stomach and perfectly smooth skin. “We got the bleeding to stop with pressure, but if you move too quickly you might open it again.”

  “Thanks,” Jayson replied.

  “Don’t mention—”

  “We need to move,” Tricia interrupted. Richard glanced over at her.

  “Not yet.”

  “We’ve wasted enough time already,” Tricia argued. She took a few steps closer, folding her arms over her ample chest, steely eyes locked on Richard. Richard stood up, holding his hands up as if trying to calm an angry animal.

  “It wasn’t wasted if it meant keeping Jayson alive.”

  “It wasn’t time we could—”

  “…and we can’t move until we know his wound won’t—”

  “—waste. We don’t even know what’s out here and—”

  “Hey!” Jayson said, raising his voice. It hurt his throat, but they both stopped talking and stared at him instead. He drew a deep, ragged breath. “Thank you. Both. For keeping me alive. I mean it.” He turned to face Richard. “But she’s right. It was a bad idea to s
tick around in the open like this.”

  “You’ll need time to recover,” Richard said. “We aren’t even sure if you can move yet.”

  “So you should just leave without me,” Jayson replied. He lay back down on the dirt, feeling dizzy and weak. “I’m useless like this. Even if I could walk, I’d only slow you down.”

  Tricia made a clicking sound. “He’s right.”

  “Bullshit,” Richard replied. “He’s delirious.”

  “I’m fine,” Jayson said. “And I can take care of myself.”

  Richard ignored him. He faced squarely at Tricia. “I’m not leaving him.”

  “You’ll have to. We can’t spare the effort of protecting him.”

  “Look, Trish, they don’t want us to leave him.”

  “Don’t call me Trish,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.

  He ignored her “or else why would they have left us all here together? We woke up less than ten feet from each other. We’re supposed to stick together as a team.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “But it makes logical sense,” Richard argued. “Why else leave us together like that? Why not just dump us kilometers away from each other if their goal was to let us die?”

  “The exact opposite could be true,” Tricia replied. “They might have left him here to be an anchor around our necks if we’re dumb enough to stick around.”

  “Maybe,” Richard admitted. “But both options can’t be true. And one involves abandoning a man to die in the woods. Could you live with yourself after that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’ll leave you as well,” said Tricia coldly, “if you don’t come now.”

  Richard sighed. “Then go.”

  A long moment passed. Tricia didn’t move.

  Richard said, “See, Trish, you aren’t going to leave us. If you were, you would have left yesterday. Or the day before. But you stuck it out.” He knelt down next to Jayson, checking the bandages. “So stop pretending to be the heartless bitch you want us all to think you are. Either help figure out how we can move with Jayson, or sit your pretty little ass down and wait.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “When we get out of this,” she said. “You and I will exchange words.”

  “I’m looking forward to that,” Richard replied, still not looking up. “I like words.”

  She made a disgusted sound and headed into the tree line. Jayson let out a breath of air and willed his head to stop throbbing. He was lying in the dirt and his body felt pathetic. It was a combination of pain, weakness, and stiffness.

  “She’s right. You should leave me,” he said. “I’m no good like this.”

  “Just shut up,” Richard said gently, examining the bandages. “We put two days into keeping you alive. I’ll be damned if we went through that just to leave you here to die.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you keep me alive?”

  Richard thought about it. “We had two problems when we woke up. One was intractable, so we solved the other. Keeping you alive was easier.”

  “Two days? What about nutrients? Did you feed me?”

  “Tricia pre-chewed your food. I whispered sweet nothings in your ear to get you to swallow.”

  Jayson coughed. “What?”

  “Relax, I’m kidding,” Richard said. Then, “I helped chew too.”

  Jayson chuckled. It hurt, a lot. “So then what’s the intractable problem?”

  Richard smiled sadly. “What the hell do we do now?”

  2

  Tricia returned a few minutes later with a Y-shaped tree limb. They tested it and found that Jayson could use it as a makeshift crutch: a few inches too short and miserably uncomfortable, but at least it made walking a possibility.

  The next problem was that after only a few steps he was exhausted. His body was lethargic and weak from blood loss and prolonged unconsciousness. He sat on a log, gasping for air and willing his pain to subside. Tricia looked at Jayson like he was something she’d scraped off the heel of her boot.

  “I’m not usually this pathetic,” he said after the third such rest, struggling to catch his breath. “Sorry.”

  “It’s going to take some time for your muscles to loosen up,” Richard replied. “But you should recover your strength quickly once your body limbers up.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Tricia muttered under her breath. It was just loud enough to be overheard.

  “You need food,” Richard said, ignoring her. “Are you hungry?”

  Jayson nodded. “And a little nauseous.”

  He fished in a pocket and handed Jayson a strip of dried meat. “It’s fish.”

  Jayson sniffed it. “How old?”

  “Caught it yesterday and smoked it over the fire. It’s not bad.”

  Jayson took a bite. It was rock solid, but the taste wasn’t bad. He let it dissolve in his mouth, swallowing flakes. “You said I was out for two days?”

  “More like thirty-six hours,” Richard said after a thoughtful pause. He scratched his beard, which was already starting to look scragglier. “We tried waking you a couple of times, but you were lights out to the world.”

  “What he means by ‘wake you,’” Tricia said, nose in the air, “is he threw sticks at your head to see if you would react.”

  “What!?”

  Richard nodded solemnly. “I had a scoring system and everything. Thirty points if it landed on your nose.” He knelt down, conspiratorial. “Trish refused to play. I think she knew I would win.”

  Tricia made a disgusted noise.

  Jayson took another bite of the fish. It hit his stomach and spread with warmth. He started feeling better within minutes. “So you’ve been living off of fish?”

  “Not entirely,” Richard replied. “Tricia made a few traps. Managed to catch a little squirrel-like creature. Cooked him up the second night. Actually tasted pretty good.”

  Jayson tucked the last bit of fish in his mouth and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s walk.”

  Richard helped lift him under the arm and got him back to his feet with a groan. They set a glacial pace toward a nearby creek where Tricia and Richard had been getting water.

  Jayson could hear it bubbling behind the trees and brush before he could see it. It was two meters wide and about a meter down at its deepest point. It was also icy cold. Jayson lowered to the ground and settled on his hip. He took a long and rewarding drink, using his hands to cup the water.

  “Oh, that’s good,” he said.

  “Uh huh,” Richard agreed. “Now strip and get in.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Strip. And clean your clothes too.”

  Jayson hesitated. “I think I’ll be fine without—”

  “No offense, but you smell terrible,” said Richard. “Actually, no, I take that back. I mean to give offense. Now get in the damn water.”

  Jayson couldn’t help but glance at Tricia.

  Richard groaned.

  “Seriously? You’re twenty-something and still worried about cooties?” Richard asked. “Who do you thinks been keeping you clean thus far?”

  Jayson hadn’t thought about it. He didn’t particularly like to either.

  Still, he hesitated. Some habits were hard to break. Richard sighed in exasperation. “I’m telling you, she’s seen plenty of those before. She doesn’t care.”

  “I know that. I just…”

  “Would you prefer that I stripped first?” Tricia asked.

  “I would,” Richard said without even a moment’s hesitation. Tricia glared at him.

  “No,” Jayson said, shaking his head. It sounded entirely silly, after all of this, to worry about something as trivial as being naked in front of strangers.

  He began stripping his shirt off. Shooting pain roared through his body, but he did his best to ignore it.

  Richard helped with his pants where the blood had dried and caked the
cloth to his skin. Naked, Jayson gradually lowered himself into the cool running water. It was freezing and he shivered; his teeth chattered.

  “Stop being such a wuss,” Richard said. Then he splashed water onto Jayson’s upper body. It shocked the skin where it hit and made him shiver even worse. But he began adapting after only a few moments. After a minute, it felt good. He started scrubbing his skin.

  The shallow bath was invigorating, washing the last of his sluggishness away. It was the difference between day and night after being in the water for only a few minutes. He couldn’t remember any bath or shower ever being so rewarding. It was a euphoric, almost religious, experience.

  Once he’d finished cleaning himself—as best he could under the circumstances—he turned his attention to his clothes. They were caked with blood and sweat. Richard was right: they smelled terrible.

  He found a suitable rock and scrubbed them clean as best he could. He wished for soap, but the water was better than nothing. As he finished Richard hung the wet clothes on a tree.

  “How long will it take to dry?” Jayson asked.

  “It’s windy,” Richard said. “And not very humid. So I’d say…an hour?”

  “Are you guessing?”

  “Yes, but it’s an educated guess. We washed and dried our clothing yesterday,” Richard said. “I never really expected to spend time washing my clothes out in the wilderness somewhere. One of those skills I left off my resume.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to add it on,” Jayson said. He relaxed into the water. “What next?”

  Richard was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed and Tricia was sitting on a rock, idly rolling a stick between her fingers. Neither seemed thrilled at the prospect of tackling that question.

  “We move,” Tricia said.

  “Where?”

  They were both silent.

  “Where are we?” Jayson asked.

  “No clue,” Richard replied. “Same planet. Maybe same continent. There are mountains nearby but no distinguishing features.”

  “So they just dumped us off in the middle of nowhere after hurting us badly enough that we can barely travel?”

  Silence again.

  “Why?” Jayson asked.