15
Logan returned to his team as the ship descended into an underground hold. And there they waited. His uncle Linux insisted upon testing the water’s purity before letting anyone disembark. This cost Logan’s team two precious hours. But he did not complain because it would have accomplished nothing.
Finally the claxon sounded. When the deck portal rumbled down, Logan was astonished to find just one old man. He walked down the steel deck and said, “Greetings, Uncle.”
The man was tall and carried a severe strength that defied his silver-white mane. “I would say that it is an honor, but to begin with lies is unworthy of us both.”
Logan searched the massive cavern. It was entirely empty save for their ship, Linux, and an open-topped ground transport. “You come alone?”
“I saw no need to risk the lives of others.” Linux gestured to the transport. “Load your team. How many are you?”
“Not enough.” He watched them troop down the rear deck. “Where are their weapons?”
“In their packs.”
“You carry no artillery?”
“The last invasion tried that and failed,” Logan replied. “I have a different plan in mind.”
Black eyes glittered with a humor Logan could only call evil. “When you meet your father, be sure and give him my best.”
Linux had a slow way of talking that made a man feel comfortable, though his news was dire. “My fief controls the largest of the perimeter markets. Or rather, we once ran things. Now the Havoc dogs are gnawing on our borders, and many of the merchants have been scared off.”
“They want to starve you out,” Vance said.
“They want us to die,” Linux said. He drove the transport with grim intent. “Tell me, Lord Hawk, how is it you journey with these folk, the enemy of your people?”
“They are friends, I find them trustworthy, and they shield my back,” Logan replied. “Who could ask for more?”
“You of all people should know the Cygnean methods. The Aldus clan slaughtered your kin.”
“They defeated us,” Logan agreed. “But even my father says they won a fair fight.”
“There is no such thing,” Linux countered. “Except in history books written by the victors.”
“A fair battle, fairly won,” Logan said. “I have studied their tactics, and they deserved to win.”
Linux chewed on that for a time. “So you joined them.”
“So I could come here.”
“And die with your starving kin, at the boundary of a market Clan Havoc will soon claim as their own.”
Linux’s transport was a metal beast that easily held Logan’s entire team and all their gear. The driver’s roofless cab had twin seats up front with a padded row behind. Logan sat beside Linux. Vance and Nicolette shared the rear seat with Sidra. The market cave was so vast the far side was lost to smoke and dust.
Linux smiled at their astonishment. “At its height, Hawk’s Market had almost two thousand stallholders. We were always fair in our dealings. We kept order. We stayed honest. Before the troubles started, we were turning merchants away.”
Vance asked, “And now?”
“We’ve lost several hundred thus far. Still more depart every day.”
Even so, the market was jammed and noisy. The merchants and customers made way reluctantly for the transport. Linux held to the central thoroughfare, broad as a Cygnean highway, and moved at scarcely more than a walking pace. For once, Logan felt no impatience. He studied the place and the people, hunting.
Linux went on, “Every time Clan Havoc sends in their packs of dogs, more of the easily frightened depart. The others watch and hope that we will find a solution. Our situation is dire enough for me to hope you might succeed, when I know it is impossible.”
Logan said, “I thank you for this gift of trust.”
Linux shook his head. “Understand me, nephew. I do not trust any Cygnean soldier. But I am trapped, and the Havoc dogs will soon be baying for my hide.”
This cavern held not just a market but a township. The stalls backed up against stone houses, most with upper floors sprouting balconies that overlooked the fray. There were factories and inns and music and even songbirds in gilded cages. The smells were strong, the din more powerful still. Linux pointed down various sidelines, listing the occupants. In the far distance rose glass-roofed structures housing the hydroponics gardens.
At several points Logan spotted the crest of Hawk’s Fief—adorning the sides of buildings, painted on signposts, and the largest emblem of all carved above passages leading from the cavern. Logan studied his clan’s ancient battle standard, the attacking bird of prey at its heart, and felt something stir in his gut. What precisely, he could not say, only that his father felt unexpectedly close.
The market’s distant ceiling was a true marvel. A center portion, perhaps two hundred paces across, was a circle of glass. The stars swam and flowed overhead as the transport moved along, for the aperture was far from perfectly formed.
“There are any number of such caverns,” Linux said, following Logan’s astonished gaze. “At least a dozen in the Outer Rim alone. Star domes, they’re called. What you see there is thicker than the height of five men. The material is carbonized and harder than most stone.”
A fitting home for Hawk’s Fief, Logan wanted to say, but he was silenced by the market’s sudden change.
As they approached the cavern’s side, the market became quieter. The people they passed wore sullen gazes and scowled when they recognized Linux.
Here the market reminded Logan of an old man’s mouth, with empty spaces where stone teeth should have resided. They passed several where the stall and the house behind had been reduced to rubble.
Linux remained silent as he drove them toward the cavern’s wall. He stopped where the avenue entered a massive tunnel. “Eighteen leagues dead ahead, you enter the Havoc fief. When we began here, the distance separating our two clans was more than enough. They had their world, we had ours.”
Nicolette said, “You could block it off.”
Linux responded by turning right and heading down a side lane. “We survive by taking no offense. We pretend all is well. We offer fealty. We hope Tiko will forget these wild ambitions and return to peace.”
Logan surveyed a cluster of seven structures, all bearing the Hawk’s crest, all empty. “How is that working for you?”
Linux halted before the largest of the structures. “This was home to our militia. We shifted them to the market’s far end to reduce the risk of conflict. You are welcome to it.”
Logan did not move. “Tell me the rest.”
Linux kneaded the wheel with two strong hands. He did not speak.
Logan guessed, “There are some in your company who want to attack before you grow weaker still.”
“Their numbers grow with every passing day.”
“They should have a talk with my father,” Logan said. “See how far that strategy took him.”
Linux cast him a look of dark approval. “It is claimed Clan Havoc now holds the technology required to make ditrinium weaponry.”
“Which was how they defeated our forces,” Nicolette said. “We suspected as much, but there were no survivors to confirm it.”
Logan asked, “You have ditrinium?”
“The mine and the smelting operations. The finest in the Outer Rim.”
“This conflict was never about the market,” Vance said. “The Havoc fief wants your mine.”
“Duke Tiko wants everything,” Linux replied.
Logan saw the pieces fit together. “He wants to rule Aldwyn.”
“If he manages to take over all of the Outer Rim and lay claim to the planet,” Vance said, “all he’d need to do is threaten to cut off the supply of ditrinium. The ruling council on Cygneus would snap like a dry twig.”
“Which would put the entire system within Tiko’s reach,” Nicolette said.
Logan said, “General Brodwyn didn’t allow us to come because of the Assembly.”
Nicolette looked confused. “But she’s certain we will fail.”
“The general doesn’t care what happens to us,” Vance said, his humor gone now. “If we confirm Tiko’s plans, we have succeeded. Whether we live or die is unimportant.”
Linux did not actually smile, but humor tightened the seams around his eyes. “And I thought my own situation was dire.”