| |
Amali stared out at his compound, unable to see anything beyond the swirling sand and dust driven by a howling gale. No one would be able to get in or out while it lasted, giving him a few hours or even days of peace before the deadly game resumed.
The relief patrol had returned from Assur the previous evening, confirming the worst. Apart from the skimmer, nothing remained of the vanished men and no one in town was willing to talk. If it weren’t for the abandoned vehicle, the two mercenaries might never have existed. While the desert nomads and indeed the townspeople themselves resented him and his men, they had so far taken no concrete action which meant someone else could be in play.
“Are you out there, Mister Decker?” He murmured. “Or am I just being overly paranoid?”
The storm made him feel as if he was no longer in control of his destiny, an uncomfortable thought for a man used to being obeyed by all, if not exactly liked by many. His compound was secure, of course. Even Decker wasn’t crazy enough to try anything while nature raged outside and perhaps if he was very, very lucky, the damned Marine would have been caught far from shelter and was even now being flayed alive. That is if he was anywhere near the desert.
There was still a small chance the contractors had killed him and preferred to be far away before reporting in, lest anyone in authority intercept a message that might hint at murder. But there was still the matter of the missing guards in Assur, though bandits might be responsible, or the men themselves might have violated a taboo or other in their dealings with the locals and paid for it with their lives.
A few hours earlier, during the darkest part of the night when spirits were at their lowest ebb and fears took up free residence in his soul, he had almost ordered his shuttle made ready for departure. Being on the move seemed infinitely preferable to waiting for his pursuer, even though it would only prolong the inevitable. With the appearance of daylight, such as it was, logic had retaken its rightful place, especially with the display of raw power descending on the Great Erg.
“Sir,” Lyle stuck his head through the doorway, “breakfast is ready.”
A dull flash of light tried to fight its way through the dust-laden air, followed by a loud thunderclap that managed to drown out the wind’s howl. Amali sighed, both awed and annoyed by the majesty of nature’s fury, then followed his aide to the dining room where his meal awaited.
“You may inform Shayk Hysan that I’m ready to see him about the proposal. He may come once the storm has lifted.”
At least he still had control over his business dealings.
**
“That was fun,” Talyn commented after the rolling thunder had finished shaking their subterranean refuge.
“What would really be fun,” Decker replied, pacing the cavern as he fought with his impatience, “would be a company’s worth of armored troops. Heck, just a full suit for you and I, and we could infiltrate the place while everyone’s hunkering down. Their sensor net is probably useless right now.”
Idriss asked Zack to translate what he’d just said and when the Marine had done so, he scratched his white beard, eyes narrowed as he contemplated the wailing of the wind and the hissing sound of tiny grains rubbing against stone.
“When the worst of the storm has lifted, we can put on our sand masks and venture out while there’s still enough dust in the air to hide us from their magic eyes.”
“Sand mask?”
Reaching into the large pouch at his waist, the chieftain pulled out a canvas hood with glass ports for the eyes and a filter for the nose and mouth. He put it on, transforming his wizened appearance into a nightmarish apparition that, if seen coming out of the tempest, would frighten even the bravest of men.
“It is what we wear when we cannot find shelter.” His voice sounded muffled. “I’m surprised a man of your learning didn’t know about them.”
Decker acknowledged the comment with a quick tilt of the head.
“We all have our failings.”
Face uncovered once more, the old man handed his mask to Zack, who put it on with a certain amount of trepidation, but it smelled no worse than anything else in the cavern did.
“You have spares?”
“Certainly.”
He shouted a few words at the knot of Targi chatting quietly in the far corner and was quickly handed two more masks taken from the caravan’s common holdings.
A shiver of excitement began to radiate from the base of Zack’s spine as he thought about the possibilities offered by this simple, primitive implement. If they could move into the oasis under cover of the storm’s tail end...
**
A wrinkled hand shook Decker out of a light slumber and as his eyes snapped open, he saw that the ghostly glow of the muted sun had gone, leaving the mouth of the cave in darkness.
“The storm has weakened enough that it will be safe for us to venture out. Come. I will take you to the off-world shayk’s castle.”
Idriss pulled on his sand mask and, jezail in hand, waved towards the outside.
The Targi chieftain moved like a ghost in the dusty gloom, stopping every few steps to make sure Decker and Talyn were still behind him. They, carrying the weapons stolen from Amali’s patrol in Assur, struggled to keep up even as Zack consulted his small hand-held sensor frequently, trying to pinpoint the surveillance gear he knew had to be planted around the perimeter.
The dust particles appeared to be highly charged, distorting his readings and presumably those of the enemy as well. If there ever was a right moment to attack, this was it, provided they could find a way inside a compound that would be tightly battened down against the storm.
Suddenly the dark mass of the walls appeared out of the gloom, and he could just about see the main entrance to his left, recessed into an alcove rapidly filling with sand. He briefly thought of the poor bastard who was going to be on clean-up duty when this was over. Amali should have invested the extra money to dome the place, but it was probably cheaper to get a couple of shovels and send out the hired help for the few times a year they got hit this bad. Then, an idea struck him. He tugged on Idriss’ sleeve and put his mask-covered mouth against the side of the chieftain’s hood.
“I think that once the storm is over, they’ll open up to do some cleaning. That might be our chance, provided we can hide right near the gate and rush in.”
Instead of answering, the Targi chief wiggled around vigorously and in the space of less than a minute, had vanished, hidden by the sand. Sensors would spot them, but if Amali’s security had no reason to scan the ground immediately by the main gate, it might just work. He looked at Talyn, her face hidden behind the hideous mask. She nodded before making the signal to turn around and head back to the caves.
“How long do you reckon until the storm peters out?” Zack asked Idriss once they were back under shelter and had removed their hoods.
The old man shrugged.
“A few hours. Perhaps at dawn. Best we go soon. Once daylight comes, they’ll see us even through the dust.”
“You sure you want to do this?” He put his hand on the Targi’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “It could get nasty very quickly.”
“Life is hard, Decker, and the off-world shayk made it harder by denying us the waters of Nippur. If we don’t fight now, then off-worlders will take all the oases. Perhaps God brought you to us for this purpose. We are warriors and can fight, but you are a soldier who knows how to lead warriors to victory. We go.”
With those words, Idriss went off to collect the fighting men of his clan, each armed with his jezail and wearing a hideous mask. An hour later, Decker, Talyn, and twenty-five Targi tribesmen were hidden in the sand at the base of Amali’s compound, ready to storm the gate.
As the last to dig in, Decker examined the area in the growing orange glow of dawn and saw no trace of the fighters. He placed one of their two sensors beneath a flat rock, leaving just enough room to allow it visual contact with the gate and linked it to the other, which he would hold in front of his mask’s glass ports once he dug in.
No more than an hour had passed by the time the storm weakened and finally died away, revealing a brilliant sun that twinkled off the piles of sand wedged everywhere in and around the small fort. Decker’s limbs felt almost painfully stiff, and he worried that they wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough to seize the open gate, giving the defenders just enough time to shut it in their faces. They’d get one chance and one only. After that, Amali would likely bugger off in his shuttle.
After what seemed like an eternity since the last wisps of dust had settled, the sensor’s small screen flickered and he tensed. The gate was grinding open to reveal the clean-up crew. He was about to rise and give the signal to attack when he caught a small dot speeding towards them on the edge of the screen. It quickly resolved into a fancy skimmer throwing up clouds of freshly settled grit with its antigrav repulsers.
Even better. Decker smiled to himself.
The moment the skimmer passed through the gate, he pushed himself up and bellowed a Targi battle cry Idriss had taught him. Within a fraction of a second, the smooth desert sand on either side of the archway sprouted nightmarish creatures in flowing desert robes, with huge glassy eyes and thick muzzles, brandishing long, homemade plasma rifles.
The startled guards froze, staring in disbelief at the apparitions until weapons coughed. They fell to the ground almost in unison, smoking holes punched into battledress tunics.
Like silent ghosts, the attack force streamed through the gate with Idriss leading the charge. He found the security station and before the men inside could react, burst through the door, shooting from the hip.
Decker and Talyn, with a half-dozen Targi on their heels, broke off from the main group and followed the skimmer through an open door into a well-lit hangar.
“Secure the shuttle,” he shouted at Hera, pointing to the far end of the expansive space where a sleek extra-orbital craft sat in apparent readiness to lift.
Ignoring the well-dressed Nabhkan climbing out of the vehicle, Decker rushed towards the obvious off-worlder standing by the inner door, evidently there to greet the new arrival.
He recognized Amali’s aide, Lyle, from the intelligence report and stuck his blaster in the man’s face. The aide crumpled to the ground in a dead faint at the sight of the ghastly, enormous thing coming to kill him.
It had been less than thirty seconds since Decker had given the signal to attack and as of yet, no alarm sounded, but it wouldn’t last. Even now, he heard the cough of plasma fire from the inner courtyard, punctuated by shouts in Nabhkan as the tribesmen systematically eliminated any guards foolish enough to challenge them.
The inner door opened at his touch and, followed by three of the Targi, he walked into a world of cool, clean air that spoke of wealth and luxury here on the edge of one of the deadliest deserts in human space.
He pointed at two of the tribesmen and then down the right-hand corridor, sending them to clear the mansion from that direction. Taking the other one as his wingman, he went left, cautiously checking every room until he found a door that opened onto a large, tastefully appointed space with a row of outward-facing windows.
A man stood by one of them, holding a blaster while anxiously peering outside. At the sound of the intruders, he whirled around, ready to fire. Upon seeing the masked men, his face turned ashen with fright and his first shot went wide. Before he could try again, the sight of a jezail and a large bore blaster pointed at his head made him drop his gun and fall to his knees.
Decker tore off his hood and walked up to the man until he stood a bare meter away, towering over the quivering creature.
“Harmon Amali, I presume. I’m Chief Warrant Officer Zachary T. Decker, Commonwealth Marine Corps, at your service.”
The wretch looked up into his hard face and, like his aide, he fainted.
**
“Now what?” Talyn asked jutting her chin towards their bound and gagged prisoner. “You’re like the dog that caught the skimmer and doesn’t know what to do with it. Simply executing Amali isn’t your style, Zack, no matter how much you think you want blood for blood.”
He nodded wearily, feeling the full weight of the past year push down on him, now that the adrenaline of the raid had worn off.
“You’re probably right. Killing him isn’t like killing the pirates on Tortuga station. Their lives were forfeit in any decent civilization.” He sat on the edge of the desk and stared at his prisoner. “You know, it took me a long time to stop getting nightmares from the way his cousin died.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she replied in a soft tone. “Like I said a few days ago, you’re no sociopath, and this proves it.”
Idriss cleared his throat, and when Decker turned towards him, he asked for a translation. Upon hearing it, the chieftain nodded knowingly.
“It speaks to your honor, Zachary Decker. This man,” he pointed at Amali, “deserves to die, but it has to be in a way that will not displease God. Shooting him in the heat of battle would have been fine, but now that he is a prisoner, he must be judged by the laws of the tribe. If you wish to take him to be judged by your laws, I will recognize your claim on him.”
“That, I can’t do, Idriss. My law will be perverted to save his life. He’s rich and has powerful friends who’ll make sure that I die while he lives.”
“So be it then. He shall be judged by the tribe for taking the waters of Nippur away from the nomadic clans, thereby causing the death of several of my kin until we could change our caravan routes.”
“I’d like to witness that.”
“You shall, Decker, but you and your companion must come with us to our destination, where my entire tribe is meeting for the lunar feast. There, you too will give testimony against this evil shayk before the elders. If found guilty, we will execute him in accordance with desert customs.”
“If found guilty?”
Decker immediately regretted the sarcastic edge to his tone.
“All men are innocent before God until proven guilty under His laws, though, with the evidence against this one, I have no doubt he will not live to see the new moon.” There was no hint of reproach in his voice.
Zack glanced at Talyn, giving her a quick translation back into Anglic and she smiled wanly.
“A good solution, I think. You get to collect the debt Amali owes, the Targi get to collect theirs and regain the Nippur oasis, and we have clean hands in his upcoming death, something that will please our superiors to no end.”
Decker nodded, understanding the additional, unspoken reason for her approval of the plan: the fact that he would not go further down the path of darkness by killing a man in cold blood to avenge himself.
“We’re in agreement, Idriss. If I may make a proposal: the Nippur oasis is now yours again, and if you have the means to contact the other caravans of your people, you can hold the lunar feast here, within these walls.”
The Targi tilted his head to the side as he studied Zack’s face, considering the proposal.
“It can be done. Each caravan has an emergency radio.” He looked around the room. “If we can find a powerful transmitter, I should be able to call them to Nippur.”
“You obviously have something else in that fertile tactical mind of yours, Zack,” Talyn said when they were alone in the office after they’d found the communications room and let Idriss call his kin.
“There is that small matter of making sure we keep the other survivors under guard until the trial is over. It wouldn’t do to have anyone contacting the authorities and hunting us down before the bastard meets his maker, and none of them deserve to die. I also want to stay close to that shuttle.”
A slow grin spread across his face as he saw her eyes harden.
“You’re still thinking of taking Amali’s yacht, aren’t you? I thought I said no.”
“We need a quick way home. Word of what happened here is bound to spread the moment we leave. Once that happens, the Coalition might just decide to shake off their cloak of secrecy and remove the major irritant we’ve become before we can report back to HQ. Think about it. Even taking a skimmer from this place, it’ll be a long time before we make Kish, and there’s no guarantee we can get off planet fast, let alone find a ship headed in the right direction.”
“And how do you propose to get the yacht’s crew to let us come aboard.”
“Simple. We spoof the comms. Once the shuttle’s in the hangar bay, there’s no reason why two superbly trained officers like you and me can’t seize it.”
“Sailing it back to Caledonia might be another story.” She shook her head, still unconvinced.
“You’re a Navy puke, Hera. I’m sure you can remember enough about astrogation to get us away from this system. After that, we call Uncle Josiah for help. No one will see a black ops ship pick us off the yacht in interstellar space. Heck, the service might even want to keep Amali’s toy. Once he’s gone to Targi hell, no one will be around to claim it.”
“Always the optimist, aren’t you? Okay. We’ll try it your way.”
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now that we’ve got the next steps settled, how about you and me find a couple-sized shower and scrub each other’s back.”
She nodded.
“At this point, I’ll be glad enough to get the camelot stench off me that I won’t make any cracks about playing hide the soap. I’ll even help you find some beer, Mister Marine with two obsessions.”
Later, as they lay on Amali’s opulent bed, Decker staring at the ceiling and Hera Talyn half draped over his naked body, she absently ran her fingers through his chest hair as she studied his square profile.
“Zack, if you really don’t want to stay in intelligence after this is over, I’ll see what I can do to get you sent to a regular Marine posting. The chief warrant officer’s bars are permanent, and I’m sure there are plenty of billets, even in a regiment, where someone will be glad to have you. But you could probably do a lot more for the Fleet by staying with us, with me. Naval intelligence operations are a hell of a force multiplier. One or two agents can put more bad guys away than several pathfinder squadrons.”
He grunted wordlessly. After a moment, he turned towards her, their faces millimeters apart and leaned forward, cutting off any further attempt at conversation.
