by Sharon Joss
He enjoyed the off-worlder’s discomfort. After living on Aurum for more than a decade, he recognized the shocked gaze of all new arrivals when they came face to face with Khirjahni aboriginals for the first time. A curl of massive horns, like a prize-winning ram, emerged from the crown of hair above Jiala’s eyebrows and circled around each side of her head along her ears. Above the broad, flattened nose of an ex-boxer, the thick skin of Jiala’s forehead puckered, giving the locals a solemn expression. Unusual at first glance, but not unattractive. In a few days, he wouldn’t notice. Had it been so long since he’d lived among Earthlings? Had he changed so much? Wait until he meets his first mandragon.
“Don’t worry about Jiala, Renly. You can’t catch anything from the locals.”
“At least not through casual contact,” added Blaylock.
Edward cut Blaylock a sharp glance. Blaylock returned it with an innocent smile. Asshole.
Harkness reddened and looked away. His shaking grew visibly worse.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out the man was practically falling apart. But before he had a chance to say anything, Blaylock barreled in, assuming control of the conversation.
“Ambassador Reinhardt informed me of your arrival this morning. Clever of you to go through the royal family for a visa.”
A flinty look came into Renly’s expression. “You know why I’m here.”
Score one for the scarecrow, Edward mused. Maybe he had a bit of grit after all.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Renly’s expression hardened. “You never even tried to him.”
“It’s not that, Renly,” Edward began, but Blaylock cut him off.
“Drop the act, Harkness. We both know why you’re here. You think I don’t know your game? We all know you’re here for the gold. Every off-worlder on this planet has gold fever. Why would a goldsmith be any different? ”
The Terran stiffened. “I work with precious metals every day. I don’t care about the mineral content of this planet. All I do care about is finding my brother. Something you haven’t managed to do in four years.”
“Hold on a minute, Renly,” interjected Edward. He glared at Blaylock to back off. “In spite of what you believe, we have made every effort to find your brother. I give you my word; he’s not on Aurum. I understand your concern, and your skepticism, but on behalf of Arkady Universal, I want to apologize if you have been given the impression that you could find him if you came here.”
Renly said nothing, but Edward could see he wasn’t about to give up. “I understand you plan to appeal to the royal family for assistance. I’m afraid that puts you in direct conflict with our company’s best interests.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Edward leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table top for emphasis. “Aurum isn’t Earth. The Khirjahni don’t care for off-worlders much. They don’t give a damn about you or your family. Part of Arkady’s agreement with the Khirjahni government is to refrain from bothering them with our off-worlder problems. With the recent change in leadership, Arkady Universal is at a delicate point in our contract renewal negotiations. Complaining to the king about your missing brother is only going to upset everyone.”
“His name is Garrett. Garrett Harkness.”
“A professional gambler,” Blaylock interjected.
Edward swallowed his impulse to slap the smug expression off Blaylock’s face. “I’m not without sympathy for your situation, sir. However, for all intents and purposes, the Arkady Corporation is the law enforcement authority here on Aurum, especially where off-worlders are concerned. We will not allow you or anyone else come here and set off an intergalactic incident.”
“Hey, I’m not trying to cause an incident.” Renly put his hand to his chest. “My brother is alive. We have a psychic connection; I sensed his presence as soon as the captain touched down on Aurum. I’m not trying to make trouble, but I’m not leaving until I find him. With or without your help.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blaylock taunted. “You will never find him on your own. Aurum is nothing like Earth. How would you even begin?”
The young man frowned. “Talk to law enforcement, I guess. Check the morgues and hospitals. Maybe the hotels?”
“Let me explain something to you about Aurum, Renly. The Khirjahni are a simple people. Fishing folk and tribal herdsman whose cultures have blended over the centuries. Half the population mass is right here in the capital. The other half live in small villages scattered along the coast or as nomadic tribesmen on the steppes. They’re a law abiding and peaceful people. There is no police force. No morgue. No hospital.” Edward gestured to the overhead chandeliers. “The only advanced technology on this planet came from Arkady Universal. The only off-worlder power source they’ve adopted is lithium batteries. If they had their way, these people would still be lighting their homes with candles and oil lanterns. In 60 years, we’ve put in plumbing, roads, and even a communications satellite, but they still don’t appreciate anything we’ve done for them. Tell you the truth, they put up with us as long as we keep to ourselves. So if Garrett is on this planet, there are only a few places he could be. Either here at the hotel or in the Festival Village. And Garrett Harkness is not in any of those places. I give you my word.”
“He might be using a different name. He’ll be at the casinos or at the track.”
Edward exchanged a glance with Blaylock, who nodded, conceding the point. “All right, for the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you.” He pulled a thin card out of his inner pocket and handed it to Harkness. “This is a guest pass to the Festival. I’ve arranged for an escort to accompany you anywhere in the village you’d like to go for the duration of the festival. The racetrack, casino, shopping, wherever you want. Look for your brother, by all means. You find him; the company will pick up the tab for your tickets back to Earth. In return, you agree not to petition the king. This is a one-time offer. Agreed?”
“What if I don’t find him?”
“You will have to accept he’s not on Aurum. You leave on the last transport with the rest of the visitors and that’s the end of it.”
* * *
In the relative sanctuary of his hotel room, Renly stripped off his gloves and cracked the seal on an imported bottle of purified water. The chilled water tasted flat, and he shivered in the frigid room. His personal thermostatic device indicated the room temperature was only fifty degrees. He searched the room for a communicator to call the front desk and complain, but found no telecom equipment whatsoever. No satellite monitors, no display units, not even a refrigeration unit; not that this place needed one.
Outside his window, the lights of the landing port reflected dimly off the salt flats in near-total darkness. They’d flown in over the ocean, and docked the shuttle at the customs depot, but other than an expanse of empty landscape, he had no sense of the local landscape. As the festival goers boarded transports to the village some twenty miles south, the ambassador offered to drop him off at the hotel. From what little he’d gathered on the short drive, there wasn’t much to see; mostly bare dirt and grey, wind smoothed rock. Reinhardt told him the off-worlder hotel served mostly pilots, their crews, and Arkady executives working the festival or visiting the coastal capital, three miles to the west.
“Open forests and rocklands border the coastal areas of the temperate zone, rising to the great steppes,” Reinhardt explained. “Think of the central plains of America before the settlers crossed, or the African savannas before the resettlement in the 23rd century. Now multiply the total area of those biomes by a factor of five. Forty percent of the inhabitable land on Aurum is highland prairie. Another fifty percent is volcanic mountain ranges. Other than the ocean, surface water is hard to find; it’s all below ground, in aquifers. They use geothermal power to heat your room at the hotel, but if I were you. I’d ask for a couple extra blankets. The Khirjahni aren’t sensitive to the cold like we are.”
He closed the drapes and d
ebated going down to the front desk to complain about the chill. The day had stretched long; he’d barely had a chance to catch his breath. The thick woven blankets covering his bed looked warm and inviting. The nubby fabric felt soft as cashmere, and appeared hand-loomed. He admired the primitive designs incorporated into the weavings. Unlike the crude design on the flag, these reminded him of aboriginal art he’d studied on Earth. The muddy purple and brown colors probably came from organic dyes. He hoped they were hypoallergenic. He added two extra blankets he found in the wardrobe to the bed.
He slipped off his shoes and hung his few clothes in the simple, narrow wardrobe. On Earth, such dark wood might be called ebony, but no one on Earth made wood furniture any more. He slipped into the low bed, regretting that he’d brought no robe or slippers. Tomorrow he would speak to the concierge and ask them to adjust the temperature in his room.
He turned off the lamp beside the bed and pulled the covers over his bare shoulders. The hiss of air purifiers soothed him as he settled into the comfort of the bed. For the first time since leaving his studio, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He was finally here, on Aurum! He’d actually made the trip into space and survived. Not only that, but the Arkady execs had decided to co-operate and had given him exactly what he’d wanted all along.
He could feel Garrett’s presence so strongly; almost as if he were in the next room. He hoped Garrett felt his presence, too. I can do this. Tomorrow, he would find Garrett and they’d head back to Earth. As he drifted off, he imagined the reunion. This time, he would be the hero, and they’d finally be even. He knew exactly how Garret would feel when he showed up to rescue him…
CHAPTER 5
When Wayne Strickland awoke, he was alone. Not even a warm spot in the bed beside him to indicate the girl had only just left. He checked his chronograph. Well before dawn, but she would already be at the stables.
He threw the covers off and swung his legs to the floor. Damn her. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was avoiding him. He ran his hand through his rumpled hair. A headache pounded at the back of his skull and his mouth tasted of tequila and stale cigars. Too much booze last night, and not enough sleep. He’d try to catch a few winks at the stables later this afternoon.
She promised to come over last night but never showed. He tried to remember the last time she shared his bed. Ever since the festival opened, the days seemed to stretch endlessly. Yesterday seemed like a long time ago.
His communicator beeped just before he stepped into the shower. Ed Duprees rarely called him this early. “Hey Ed.”
“Good, you’re up. I need you to play the host a guy at the festival.”
He suppressed a groan. Three years ago, Duprees finally put him in charge of the racing stables. Back then, the Barn Manager title meant he shoveled shit, but he found a way to turn things around for himself. He didn’t shovel anything anymore. Now things were about to pay off big time, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize his plans.
“You’ve got me spread pretty thin already, Mr. D.”
Duprees went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Keep him busy for a few days. You know the drill; kill him with kindness. Wear him out.”
His cheeks grew hot. “Ya want me to babysit this guy?” The familiar prickling of his skin stopped him from saying anything else. He choked back his outrage. Years of anger management reprogramming had helped him recognize his own warning signs, but sometimes the old attitudes slipped out.
“You don’t like this job any more; we can always use you back in the mines.”
“Sorry, I’m still waking up. There’s no problem.” Edward Duprees had been a lowly shift supervisor in the mine when he arrived, fresh off the prison planet. They shared a common appreciation for gladiator sports, and from there, a weird sort of professional friendship grew. Wayne made sure his crew always exceeded their quotas, and took a hands-on approach for solving internal problems in his team, which made Edward look good. Edward’s rapid promotions and reputation for getting the job done moved him rapidly into the highest levels of Arkady management, and he made sure he brought Wayne Strickman along with him. The fact was, he’d tied himself to Edward’s star. If that made him Edward’s bitch, fine. But only until he made his nut. And that day had nearly arrived.
He took a deep breath. “Who is he?”
“An artist. Renly Harkness. Claims to be looking for his brother, but he’s here at the invitation of the royal family. The old family. With Kehreru out of the picture, I don’t want to risk making a stink before we get on an even footing with the new king. We don’t know how Hakaroah will react if there’s an incident, and Blaylock is just waiting for me to make a mistake, so I want you to handle this. The brother is a pro, so if he’s here, he’ll be in the casinos.”
“Or the track.” He could park the artist in the clubhouse while he took care of business. He needed to get hold of K’Sati; and get the list of winners from her. She had an uncanny talent for picking them, and he wasn’t done with her yet. Not by half.
“All right. What do ya want to do about the brother?”
Duprees snorted. “I am not convinced there is a brother. The only thing I care about is making sure the festival runs smoothly. If there’s any trouble, I want you to take of it. Quietly. Understand?”
“Absolutely.” The UCP inspectors got the same treatment whenever they showed up for their unscheduled inspections of Arkady operations. “Ya know ya can always count on me.”
* * *
Wayne smashed his shoulder against the door of the girl’s room at the stable. The flimsy lock gave way with barely a protest, but the room was empty. The air was stale; she hadn’t been here in hours. So where had she spent the night? The shirt she’d been wearing the last time he’d seen her lay on the floor in a corner. He checked her bedding. No fading body heat warmed the tangled sheet of the narrow cot.
So where the hell was she? She knew better than to avoid him, but sometimes they needed a little reminder. He pulled his bowie knife from its sheath at his belt and used it to slice the shirt to ribbons. The Terran half-breed, K’Sati wasn’t the first woman he’d bedded on Aurum, but she had an independent streak, just like Earth women. Until he discovered her uncanny gift for picking winners at the track, he’d been ready to give her the boot. Even so, a man shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of disrespectful behavior. Good thing the big race was only a week away.
He strode purposefully through the stable, checking each stall, but found no sign of her. Chances were better than even the girl was down on the track with Ruben, but he didn’t have time to chase after her this morning. Nearly time to drive into town and pick up Renly Harkness. He stopped in his tracks. Only half the stalls had been cleaned. She wasn’t far. He decided to make a quick check of the tack room.
No stable girl. Instead, he found the Terran junkie, Jason Brown.
Brown came sniffing around sometimes; usually with his hand out. K’Ruhi, the farrier, vouched for him, but Wayne knew better. This guy was always up to something.
“What are you doing here/”
Jason jumped, and shoved something into the pocket of his pants. His skin shone with a greasy sweat. With a shaking hand, he grabbed a tin of leather cleaner off the shelf of a rustic bookcase. “K’Ruhi asked me to fetch this.”
“Turn your pockets out.”
Jason tried to shove his way past, but Wayne pushed him hard up against the door jamb. The guy cringed and Wayne savored his terrified expression. What a wuss.
He laid his forearm across Jason’s neck, effectively pinning him. “I said turn out your pockets.” The guy smelled of sour sweat and fear. He looked like he’d been living pretty rough lately. Nice clothes, but wrinkled and grimy.
Jason struggled weakly, but Wayne had no problem controlling him. His fingernails were dirty, as if he’d been working at the stables. Fat chance. He made a mental note to start checking the stables more thoroughly at night.
“Get off me,” he gasped.
/>
Wayne rabbit-punched him hard, twice, just below the ribcage. All the fight went out of Jason; he crumpled to the floor. Thus incapacitated, Wayne patted him down. In one pocket he found a half-dozen paper packets of dream dust; in the other, a sizable handful of solid gold coins.
“Well, well.” He stepped back to examine the coins. All bore the UCP assayer’s stamp, which certified the purity of the gold. “I didn’t realize selling dream dust was such a lucrative occupation. You’ve got yourself quite a little nest egg here. Thanks.” He slipped the coins into his own pocket. This would come in real handy at the track today.
He tore open the packets of dream dust and scattered the brown powder across the floor.
“What are you doing?” Jason demanded. “That is my money. My property. He scrambled across the floor, pinching up tiny grains of dust and depositing them into his palm.
Wayne grinned. “You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood. This is my barn, my stable, and my tack room. Everything in it, including your sorry ass belongs to me. If ya don’t like it, I suggest ya leave.”
“You don’t understand. That money isn’t mine. I owe a guy; if I don’t pay him by ten tonight, he’ll hurt me.”
He sounded like he was about to cry. I’ll give you something to cry about. “Tell ya what. If you’re not out of my sight in ten seconds, I’ll hurt ya. Mess ya up big time. That what ya want?”
Jason scrabbled to his feet and ran; hunched over, clutching his precious dream dust in both hands. Pathetic.
Wayne patted the outside of his pocket, pleasantly heavy with gold. Now all he needed to do was find K’Sati. So far, she’d picked the winner in seven of the last eight races. With another twenty-five or so qualifying heats still to run until the Final, he planned to keep a much closer eye on her. He didn’t much like this new attitude of hers. Time to end this nonsense. His future depended on it.
