On a Pale Ship Page 11

  She pushed the broken bodies from her mind and searched for the packages specified by Marek. It was a bad sign that the AI was unable to locate them. After several minutes, she resorted to pinging him. She was surprised when he immediately answered.

  “Troubles?” he asked.

  “I can’t find the packages.”

  “Are you in the right room?”

  “Of course I am. What is this place? There are bodies in medical tanks.”

  “A bit above your pay grade, but under the circumstances, I think it’s okay. You won’t tell anyone, I suppose.”

  “What are you talking about. Of course I won’t. Where are the packages, Marek?” she asked, the bad feeling she’d had about the mission resurfacing.

  “Take a look at tank twelve,” he said. “They had a new arrival this morning.”

  “What? Knock it off. I’m exposed.”

  “I think you’ll want to see this. Go look.”

  Katriona searched for and found the tank labeled ‘twelve.’ The man inside was much less damaged than the others she’d seen. Something about him was familiar. Just as she moved around so she could see his face, his body twitched and she jumped back. The man in the tank was the guard supervisor, Diasev.

  “Frak. What’s going on, Marek?” she squeaked.

  “Bet you never saw that coming.”

  “He’s dead,” she whispered.

  “Technically, I think there’s some dispute about that. But don’t worry. The man you knew is long gone or at least he will be soon. I need you to place an explosive against the following three tanks,” Marek said, listing three which included Diasev’s.

  “What have you gotten me into? I’m not a murderer.”

  “Now, I think we both know better than that.”

  “That’s a lie. Diasev would have raped me.”

  “In exchange, you would have had fantastic leverage on him and a sure ticket through the Portals for several months. Seriously, you need not be such a prude.”

  “I’m out,” she said. “I won’t do this.”

  “And let dear little Sveta die in prison? Or had you forgotten that murderers from your side of the wall have their families imprisoned as a deterrent?”

  Katriona’s head spun and she felt as if she might pass out.

  “You set this all up. How?” she asked.

  “Okay, you got me,” he said. “Diasev was easy. I might have had someone tell him about how you treated your other guard friends. Not my fault he took a liking to you.”

  “But the timing.”

  “The timing was all yours. You’re lucky you did kill him. Diasev was a naughty boy. He liked to beat his girls. We were just waiting for you to finish the job so you could be properly motivated. And hey, you’ll still get your twenty thousand. I’m all about carrot and stick.”

  Katriona looked at the floor. There was nothing else she could do. If she didn’t set the explosives, Sveta and Irena would suffer and probably die in prison.

  “Damn you to hell.” She unwrapped the thin packages she now knew to be explosives and placed them against the glass of the three identified tanks. Surprisingly, two of the tanks contained an older man and an older woman, but without external wounds and in excellent shape.

  “You’d better get going,” he said just as an alarm klaxon started sounding.

  Katriona cut off the comms, not bothering to ask how he anticipated the alarm. She raced from the room and followed the AI’s instructions for the quickest path to the elevator. Down a flight of stairs and through a myriad of hallways. It was still early in the morning and there were few people on station and those she found, were in just as much of a hurry as she was to get to the elevator.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, falling in step with another woman.

  “Explosives on the station,” the woman said, her face a mask of fear. “We need to get on the elevator before they fill up.”

  As if answering the woman’s unsaid prayer, an elevator car opened just as they rounded the corner into the foyer where station visitors and staff offloaded.

  “Quick,” Katriona urged, grabbing her arm, knowing that two colleagues fleeing together would be less conspicuous than if she was running on her own. Aggressively, Katriona elbowed and pushed those who had arrived before them and they managed to pile into the quickly filling car.

  “Hey, you can’t do that!” a man shouted from the foyer. Katriona looked to the woman she’d pulled along with her just as the muted sounds of explosives rocked the station.

  “Clear the door,” a panicked voice from within her car exclaimed. “We’re all gonna die.”

  Knowing she held the fate of not just herself but that of her sister and niece, Katriona pushed at a man who was trying to squeeze into the car, knowing he’d never fit. When he resisted, she punched him in the side of the face and sent him sprawling back into the growing crowd. With the doors clear, the elevator closed and then seemed to drop out from beneath them.

  “We’re falling,” the woman Katriona had dragged along cried.

  “No. It’s emergency protocol and it’s going to suck when we hit ground side. We need to brace,” a man said.

  Katriona bent her knees and closed her eyes, trying to relax. The worst thing a person could do in a collision was stiffen up. Fortunately, the man was not completely truthful in his description. The landing was hard, but certainly would have no lasting effects on the passengers.

  “Out, out, out!” uniformed personnel yelled as soon as the doors opened.

  Katriona caught sight of armored security forces standing to the side, all armed with long blaster rifles. She’d like to have put it down to concern for an orderly exit, but she didn’t buy it for a second.

  “This way,” she said, guiding the woman she’d joined up with, still holding her elbow. She kept the woman between herself and the line of guards. After passing the security forces, she could see wide-open doors that led outside only ten meters ahead. Having drawn no attention, she urged the woman to jog with her, knowing it wouldn’t look out of place to flee the site.

  Once clear of the outside doors, she pulled the hoverboard from her pack and dropped it onto the ground.

  “Stay safe,” she offered to the woman who looked back to her. “You’ll want to get clear of the complex, just in case there’s debris.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said.

  “There she is!” Marek’s voice called out in the chaos.

  She turned to see him standing in the midst of three security forces. “Run!” Katriona pushed the woman from her and jumped on the board.

  The first shot knocked her from the board and spun her around. Five more rounds pierced her body before she finally hit the ground. An overwhelming sense of sadness gripped her as she fell, her life’s blood draining onto the ground. It was her fault. Somewhere along the line, she’d turned the corner from stealing from Fariza’s elite, to murder and worse. Now, Irena and Sveta would suffer a horrible fate because of it.

  “I’m sorry. I love you,” she whispered as life slipped away.

  Chapter 10

  To Blood

  System: Tipperary, Planet: Grünholz, City: Cauldron

  Standing in the dark at the end of the dock, Luc watched as Torigan pulled away. The rain had slowed but hadn’t stopped and he questioned the sequence of events that had led him to this moment. Emilie’s face came to mind and Luc recalled his anguish as he’d tried to find her so many weeks ago when she’d splashed down. His anger renewed, he turned and walked toward the foreboding walled city, his legs rubbery from the long boat trip.

  “You will stop,” a man with a thick Russian accent said.

  Luc stopped and considered the man who stood in a pool of light in front of the open gate. The weapon identified him as a free man in Oberrhein society, as only those who were free were allowed to wear and use weapons.

  “State your business,” the man demanded.

  “I will not,” Luc said indignantly. “I
am Baron Serikov of Fariza. I do not answer to a gate watcher.” During the trip, his AI had been feeding him details on Oberrhein etiquette. The guard could require identification or even a duel to first blood if sufficiently offended.

  “A Baron of Fariza, eh?” the man said. “I hear Fariza is weak. The men wear business suits and eat candies.” He spat on the ground.

  “How can standing in this rain make a person anything but soft. I will forgive your insults to my home but once. Allow me to pass or allow me to adjust your mood appropriately.” Luc placed his hand on the bokken that hung at his side.

  The guard placed his hand on the pistol at his side. “I could kill you. No one would care.”

  “Oleg, check his papers and let him pass,” another thickly accented voice said from a room built into the wall next to the gate. “I have no intent of explaining why you killed a Baron from Fariza before he even stepped foot into our fair city.”

  “I’m just having fun with him,” Oleg complained. “I think he might have wet himself.”

  The bokken blurred as Luc drew it and rammed the butt of its hilt into Oleg’s face. The younger guard crumpled to the ground. The sound of glass breaking preceded the appearance of a second guard at the door to the guard’s room. The second guard fumbled to draw his weapon and Luc slapped his wrist with the outstretched bokken, sending the gun clattering to the ground.

  “You had no right,” the guard said and looked up at Luc with anger in his eyes. He rushed forward and Luc nimbly stepped out of his way, swatting the back of his neck with the flat of the bokken’s wooden blade.

  “I had every right,” Luc said. “In Fariza, no man would stand and be insulted by a guard. Are we not brothers? But you would hurl insults because you believe you have position.”

  “We won’t stand for this,” the second guard replied, stepping warily around Luc.

  “To blood then?” Luc asked. “I would enjoy teaching two unruly whelps a lesson this fine afternoon.”

  “Put your weapon down,” a third voice said.

  “It is a wooden sword,” Luc said, sliding the bokken back into its holder. “Do you truly feel threatened?”

  An older man appeared. “Pick Oleg from the ground and clean up that glass you broke,” the man said to the second guard, holding a blaster pistol aimed at Luc’s chest. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “My name is Baron Roth Serikov of Fariza. My business is my own.”

  “So it is. If you’d be so kind as to present your ident.”

  Luc pulled at the ident file he’d been provided by Dorian’s assistant, Victor, and flicked it at the senior guard.

  “My apologies, Baron,” he said, sarcastically, over-emphasizing the title. “You might see about that chip on your shoulder. Not everyone in Cauldron is as easy to best as Oleg.”

  “I would hope not. I have heard great things of Khan Leonidovich’s city and of his men. I plan to drink at Killfish this evening. Perhaps when Oleg awakes, I could buy him a drink and we could become fast friends. No hard feelings?” Luc wondered if he’d overplayed his hand as the older guard allowed him to pass.

  Unlike Nannandry, Cauldron had been built on rocky ground. He followed a cobblestone path from the gate and walked in the direction of the two largest buildings he could see in the waning light of Grünholz’s gray sky. His AI identified the smaller of the two buildings as being the cathedral. It was the church Torigan had referred to and it came complete with tall, narrow spires over its many roofs.

  The largest building was the home of Khan Eduard Leonidovich, the lord and master of Cauldron. On Grünholz, there were nine fiefs handed out by King Kostov, the ultimate ruler of Oberrhein. Each fief had a lord who had risen to power and paid tribute to the kingdom so that the nation as a whole could thrive.

  Looking around the dilapidated city, Luc questioned the assertion that the fiefs or even the nation thrived. It wasn’t lost on him that Oberrhein had started with a significant deficit. A low-level radiation emission on Grünholz eventually destroyed all electronics. At great expense, shielding could be put in place, but the protections weren’t perfect and the expense of maintaining normal systems was considerably more than the small nation could afford. As a result, the cities were built from natural materials available on the planet. To Luc’s eyes, it felt like he’d stepped back into a medieval vid. At any moment, men on horses might ride up to these huge rocks, a rider dismounting to pull a sword from the center of one.

  The sound of horses must have been a subconscious trigger. Luc turned at the rhythmic sound of clopping. He just barely had time to jump out of the way of two men, dressed formally in polished steel armor, sitting atop great horses. Behind the two raced a carriage pulled by four proud horses and trailed by two more riders.

  Staying off the road, his eye followed the unusual group as it continued at full speed through gates that barely opened in time. The entourage continued toward the front of Leonidovich’s home that more closely resembled a castle than anything else he could imagine.

  “Lucky, you were.” A woman startled Luc as she spoke from behind him. “Khan Leonidovich stops for no one, free man or not.”

  “Tell me. Where would I find Killfish Tavern?” he asked. The woman was not pleasant to look at. Her hair was tangled, skin dirty, and teeth missing.

  “You’re a hundred meters from it. Down the alley, just there if you’re brave enough.” She pointed across the street. “Otherwise, walk around the front along first street. You’ll be in full view of the Khan’s guard.”

  “The alley is that dangerous?”

  “Not for one who would stand in front of the Khan’s carriage, I wouldn’t suppose.”

  Luc flipped her a small coin, looked both ways, and crossed the street into the alley, where aside from the smell of piss, he found nothing overly dangerous. And while he found an entrance to Killfish, he didn’t feel like entering through the back so he continued until he arrived in the front of the building.

  Raucous music spilled from behind swinging doors and Luc felt like he’d moved from a medieval vid to something more akin to a western. A timeworn bar adorned with beer taps sat at the back of the room with a large mirror centered behind it on the wall. Rows of liquor bottles were arranged on the wall, showing a considerable variety.

  “Well, hello, handsome.” A buxom woman smiled at Luc as he made his way to the bar. When she stood, he thought it possible her corset might fail and send her spilling out into the room. “Looking for company this afternoon?”

  Luc blanched at the bald offer and recovered. “Long day,” he said. “I think I’ll enjoy a drink or several. Perhaps later.”

  “Gets busy later in the evening,” she said, disappointed. “I might not be available. My name is Irisa.”

  “Irisa, how about I buy you a drink and we’ll call it even.”

  “Sure, sweetheart. What are we drinking to?”

  Luc sat on one of several open stools at the bar and the woman sat next to him, her body sinking into the bar. He guessed she had a good start on the afternoon already.

  “A long journey.”

  “Sergey, get this man a drink,” she called to the barkeep who was cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar.

  Sergey looked up, put down his work and walked over. It was a level of attention Luc wasn’t used to getting at most bars and he wondered if his accepted status as a free man in Cauldron had anything to do with it.

  “Two vodkas, neat,” Luc said.

  “Do you have a preferred vodka?” The man’s accent made vodka sound more like yahd-ka, but Luc had heard enough Russian accents to pick the word out.

  “Anything local would be great,” Luc said. “I’m visiting from Fariza and would love to see how it’s made right.”

  “I have just the thing,” Sergey replied.

  “Make mine a double, dear?” the woman asked.

  After Sergey returned with two glasses, Luc clinked his against Irisa’s and drank it in a single
swallow. “Whoo,” he said as he placed the glass on the bar, harder than he’d expected.

  “Fariza have anything like that?” Sergey asked.

  “Nothing,” Luc said, his voice raspy from the strong drink. “It’s smooth, but made from liquid fire.”

  Luc sat back in his chair and nodded as Sergey held up his glass, asking if he wanted another. When it arrived, he sipped at it, knowing he needed to make it last. He knew better than to push things too quickly, so he sat back and enjoyed simply being at rest for the first time in many hours.

  A long time and several shots later, Sergey approached. Irisa had abandoned him hours ago. “Yasha has arrived. I told him that you were here.”

  “Yasha?” Luc asked, the blood in his veins turning ice cold.

  “You said Fariza. I assumed you were here to meet with him.”

  “No, Sergey,” a man had walked behind the bar like he owned the place. “I’m expecting no one. I’m sorry that my colleague mistakenly bothered you. Sergey, you should get the man another drink.”

  “My apologies, sir,” Sergey bowed his head and backed away. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Luc shrugged as he looked back to Yasha. “I’m afraid you have me at a loss.”

  “What are you doing here?” Yasha hissed, leaning over the bar, his amenable expression having changed instantly to anger. “Our packages were sent.”

  Luc felt the moment arrive and refused to walk away from it. In the future, he’d look back and wonder if he’d made the right choice.

  “I was sent to find out what happened to the pigeon, Emilie Bastion,” Luc said, grabbing the man’s shirt. “We were told she would be included.”

  “She was sent,” Yasha said, pushing away, his voice rising. “Who are you?”

  “His name is Baron Roth Serikov,” a familiar voice said from the end of the bar.

  Luc turned slowly to find Oleg and three others moving in, all holding short wooden clubs. Oleg’s eye was purple and swollen where Luc had punched him with the hilt of his sword.