13
The Outer Rim was dominated by a man named Tiko, who had claimed for himself the title of duke. It was possible that his forebears might once have ruled a fief, but the Outer Rim was a place earned through battle and lies and subterfuge, and it was just as likely that Tiko had invented the title when he bulled his way into the ruler’s cavern.
One thing could be said about Tiko without risk. He was a survivor. He had ruled his segment of the Outer Rim for thirty-seven years, longer than anyone in living memory. He had used the time well, building defenses that had brought down the invading fleet. Up until that victory, Tiko had allowed the smaller fiefs to maintain their mines and their townships, so long as they bent the knee to his rule and paid their dues to his coffers. But once he had defeated the Cygnean battalion, he became hungry for more power and more mines. Slowly, steadily, he began devouring the smaller clans.
To those mini fiefs rich enough to afford strong defenses of their own, he took a different approach. The Outer Rim reservoirs were all within Tiko’s territory. So he slowly began cutting off their supplies.
All this Logan knew from reports sent back by the governing council’s representatives on Loghir. There was supposed to be a strict quarantine against the Outer Rim, but their mines were rich, and Cygneus was a long way off. The Loghir black market kept the outer fiefs from dying of thirst. Even so, for many of the smaller Outer Rim fiefdoms, water was more valuable than a man’s life.
Which was why Logan had chosen his cargo.
For Logan’s plan to work, he needed what Nicolette called an outlier station. Logan felt the name did not apply to what they intended. But he didn’t object, mostly because plans like theirs had never been attempted before.
The transport pods were shaped like giant metal seeds. Captain Hattie had a perfectly good reason for sending a pod to the planet’s capital. The skies above Aldwyn were thick with ships, and those that carried time-sensitive cargos bribed their way into a quick berth. Such negotiations were best carried out in person, so Hattie radioed a request to the city’s terminal and the transport was granted passage.
Once the pod left with Nicolette and her three teammates, Hattie made no more outright criticisms of their plans. But her grumbling filled the flight deck, and her crew ducked every time her gaze shifted. Logan made no attempt to hide himself away, and Vance remained firmly by his side.
Finally the captain snarled, “What now?”
“I must communicate with someone in the Outer Rim,” Logan said.
She glared across the steel deck. “Explain yourself.”
“Here’s what I know,” Logan continued. “The Outer Rim has a main landing site. And then there is a smaller one tucked well away. This second site is in disputed territory. A number of outlaw fiefs claim the surrounding region. The landing strip is used by all and is the one point where they do not battle. Anyone who breaks the peace is banned.”
She squinted at him. “You know this how?”
He met her gaze. “The question is, do you know this second site?”
“I do.”
“Ping the site’s control tower,” Logan said. “Tell them I have a delivery for Linux Hawk.”
“What manner of pup dares order me about?”
The face glaring from Captain Hattie’s monitor was aged but still very handsome, almost refined. Linux wore his white hair with dignity, carefully tended and swept back from a high forehead. His face was seamed, his eyes as dark as the planet he called home. Logan thought he looked like a soft-spoken killer with a taste for the good life.
“I salute you, Uncle,” Logan said.
Linux did not respond as Logan had expected, with suspicion and questions only a clansman could answer. Instead, he squinted and leaned closer to the screen. “You’re the Count’s whelp.”
“You carry the look of him. Are you a fighter as well?”
Vance spoke from behind his right shoulder. “That he is, sir.”
The old man’s gaze did not waver. “How did you know to find me?”
“As a child I heard you had carved out a haven for those who survived and were ready to give up marauding.”
“Give up dying, you mean. It was true enough, once. But you’ve come at a bad time.”
“I know that.”
“You know, and yet you came?” He snorted. “You show as much sense as your old man.”
“I do not seek refuge, I’ve come to offer it,” Logan replied. “What’s more, I bring water.”
The old man could not quite hide his avaricious gleam. “How much?”
“A million dekaliters,” Logan replied. “The ship carries nothing else.”
“Then you are welcome,” his uncle declared. “I will arrange—”
Logan broke in with, “First there is the small matter of what I want in return.”
Nicolette and her team traveled back by holding Sidra’s hand. They stood in the rear hold of their vessel a thousand leagues above the point where they had been an instant before. Once she reported in, Logan returned to the flight deck with Vance and said it was time to land. Hattie asked if he was abandoning the team he had sent to Loghir, for the only word she had received from her pod crew was a radio message that Logan’s team had entered the city and not returned. Logan did not respond.
Hattie let Logan and Vance remain on the flight deck for the final approach. Logan suspected she hoped it would frighten them from taking what she saw as a suicidal next step. But Logan had found great strength in Sidra’s report, not to mention Linux’s agreeing to his terms. He watched the planet’s approach with awe and more than a little fear. But mostly he was excited by the prospect of what awaited him. Years of hoping. A lifetime spent searching out this one chance, no matter how slender. Logan was far less worried than most would be in this situation, for he had survived many lean and dangerous days. He watched in utter astonishment as the Outer Rim came into view, his worries all centered on those who had put their trust in his untested abilities.
The planet’s outer half remained in perpetual darkness. During the period soon after its former sun went nova, a massive object had struck its molten surface. Scientists assumed the impact was what had sent Aldwyn reeling out of its orbit and eventually into its new planetary home. The impact zone was large enough to swallow Logan’s entire home province. The crater was rimmed by razor mountains, tall as death’s own crown. In eons past, the crater had become home to pirate fiefs, clans who had lost their lands through war. The desperado attitude lived on.
The signal officer reported nervously, “We have been pinged, Skipper. Twice.”
“Hold to the course.” Hattie sounded calm, but Logan could see her white-knuckle grip on the chair arms. “Identify the source.”
“First ping was the main landing terminal. Second ping is our destination, the tower of the lesser field. Now a third ping, Captain! And a fourth! Both originating from planetary weapons systems!”
“Hold fast to your course,” she told her frightened pilot.
“The main tower is demanding to know who we are.” The signal officer’s voice lifted a full octave. “They are threatening to shoot us down if we don’t respond!”
“Hold to strict silence!”
“A fifth ping, Captain!”
Logan turned and nodded. Hattie barked, “Send the response. Do it!”
The signal officer slapped the panel hard. Linux had supplied them with both an approach vector and a response signal. The signal was to be their only communication, sent after the fifth ping. Hattie had received the instructions herself and watched as the signal officer coded in the electronic response. Even so, the entire flight deck held their breath in unison until the officer breathed, “All silent, Captain. The weapons systems have unlocked.”
“Ready the ship for landing,” Hattie said. She turned to Logan and said, “You’d best go prepare your crew for their final approach.”