Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  “Don’t worry about the prizes inside,” Jackie said to Connor with his easy smile. “The alcohol is strong enough to kill whatever might survive in this environment.”

  “And the outside of the glass?” Connor asked.

  “Roll the dice.”

  Lavi leaned forward and drummed her fingers on the table. “We have a job to do,” she said just loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. “When can you arrange the meeting?”

  “It’s already done, my beauty,” Jackie said. “You meet with the mayor of our lovely little hamlet tonight. His name’s Paxton but likes to be called the Harbinger. Make sure he doesn’t find out your military. If he does, he may just have you killed outright.” Then he looked at Lavi and Charisma. “And I suggest you leave the womenfolk behind. He has a weakness for the fairer sex. He might even insist they be part of the trade.”

  Charisma’s face went white with terror; Lavi’s red with rage. “We’re not for trade,” Lavi growled.

  “Depends on how bad you want the bridges,” Jackie said. “Although if you trade him a king’s ransom you may be able to get past that little point.”

  “Understood,” Wild Bill said. “What can you tell us about this Paxton?”

  “He’s a megalomaniacal, egotistical, micromanaging dictator who’s not above…” Jackie paused to think for a moment, “…anything, really. Sanctuary exists the way it does because he wants it to. He’s got eyes everywhere to make sure that nothing happens here unless he wants it to. If you want him to give up those bridges, you’re going to have to make sure he feels in control the whole time. If Paxton feels even a little challenged, the bridges will be the least of your worries.”

  A terrified moan escaped Heyerdahl. He sat, staring at the folded hands in his lap, face frozen in fear. Charisma put an assuring hand on his shoulder.

  “He will find us very hard to kill,” Lavi said.

  “Well, if you’re lucky he’ll kill you,” Jackie said, all hint of his smile gone. “But, generally, Paxton likes to play with his victims. I could tell you stories…”

  Chapter 17:

  “So, are we leaving someone behind?” Heyerdahl asked. The group rested in one of the Celeste’s many rooms that had been converted into rentals. Their attempt to rest before meeting Paxton was made all the more difficult by the occasional screams that burst from somewhere deep in the bowls of the ship. “If so…” Heyerdahl continued.

  “Nobody stays,” Wild Bill interrupted. “If Paxton really has the intelligence network that Mr. Van Dorn…”

  “Told you before, it’s Jackie if you please,” Jackie broke in.

  “Sorry,” Wild Bill corrected. “If Paxton has the network that Jackie says, then it would be too dangerous to leave anyone behind. Likely, he already knows the disposition of our group, and anywhere we might try to hide. Besides, we need you there to verify the quality of the bridges. No, we stay as a group.”

  Heyerdahl slumped back, lacking the willpower to groan in fear. He sat on the rooms broken down bed, his back to a wall and staring at his hands.

  Jackie and Akshay sat in the far corner of the room. Jackie lounged in a rickety wooden chair and smoked the biggest cigar Connor had ever seen, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He occupied his time by periodically checking his watch and shooting the occasional wink at either Lavi or Charisma.

  Akshay seemed less edgy than he had in the saloon, although only slightly. He sat on the floor, legs crossed under him, as he cleaned and maintained his pistol. The man had positioned himself so he was facing the door, and his eyes flicked up at the door at a fairly constant rate. His pistol looked as though it had seen a lot of action. It had several scratches in the black matting, a crack in the polymer grip, and a deep gash near the front of the slide. In spite of the damage, though, it appeared Akshay kept it well maintained. There was no rust in the damaged areas, only shining metal.

  The most notable thing about him wasn’t the pistol with its high capacity magazine that would jut out from its handle. It was the huge knife at the small of his back. The blade was almost two feet long and took a sharp downward angle half way down its length. It was unlike any knife Connor had ever seen.

  Wild Bill and Lavi moved to the corner opposing Jackie and Akshay looking over their own weapons and talking quietly amongst themselves. Neither seemed particularly worried about the upcoming meeting.

  Connor and Charisma took their customary positions on either side of Heyerdahl. Charisma focused her attention on the scared man, stroking his back and cooing soothingly into his ear. She probably should have been attending to her weapon since her life may depend on it, but she was a nurse; a volunteer medic. Others came before her.

  Connor simply sat, watching Akshay through the corner of his eye in fascination. He was working on his pistol absently, more going through the motions to appear busy than anything else. The last time Akshay caught him staring, his eyes had warned Connor that he didn’t like the intrusion. Connor wasn’t sure about a lot of things in life, but he was sure he didn’t want to antagonize the man.

  “It’s time,” Jackie said. For the first time since they’d met him, his face was grim and serious.

  Wild Bill approached the volunteers. “I told you before to be silent, and I’ve been lax on that point. Until now. You will not speak during the meeting at all unless Rana or I give you express permission, understand?”

  A round of nods answered him and he turned to leave the room with Lavi behind him.

  In the hall, Jackie leaned in close and whispered in Connor’s ear. “My mate has a thing about being stared at. You keep staring at him and his patience may run out.” Connor looked at the man, then Akshay, and back to Jackie to say something, but Jackie was already walking away.

  They were silent as they plodded through Sanctuary. No one really had anything they wanted to say. Red dust swirled around their feet as they walked and dust in the atmosphere mixed with dying sunlight to turn the evening sky a brilliant crimson. The town was suspiciously empty of human life. Sanctuary had suddenly become a ghost town.

  Jackie led them toward the center of town, Akshay taking the rear. Soon a massive ship came into view. It rested on four retractable legs, and had six different rounded tanks measuring at least four hundred feet in circumference and more than a half mile long. Each tank had six retractable booms with a huge, thirty-foot diameter hose at its center.

  “Wow!” Charisma whispered breathlessly. “What are the tanks for? Fossil fuels?”

  “Nope,” Jackie answered. “The one thing that can’t be easily found in deep space. Water.”

  Two men stood outside the ship’s entry. Each was shirtless except for bandoleers that crossed over their massive chests. Most of the bandoleer’s ammunition loops were filled with shotgun shells, the few exceptions instead held the spoon of a grenade. Their pants were badly tailored out of whatever materials happened to be available and sported an unreasonable number of pockets. The men leaned against the bulkheads, shotguns slung on powerful shoulders.

  “Prepare yourselves for a bit of a shock,” Jackie whispered as they approached Paxton’s guards. “Paxton’s staff are slaves and he can be considered a little rotund.”

  “Hold up there,” called one of the unnecessarily muscled guards. Each wore a black hood that had two small reflective lenses over the eyes.

  “We’re expected,” Jackie said.

  “Yeah,” the other guard said confrontationally. “Think I don’t know that?”

  The group entered to find the ship’s interior a palace. Plush rugs lined the floors, and bright paints colored what should have been dreary walls. Ornate paintings and tapestries hung from every wall, and even the bulkhead door across the room was gaily painted and adorned. Just inside the entryway was an immaculately kept antique wooden desk. Behind it sat a beautiful, naked woman.

  “Please place all weapons on the desk,” she said formally as she pressed a brightly lit button on the wall. “You may collect them
when you leave.”

  Two more guards entered from the door at the far end of the room as each member of the party carefully removed their weapons.

  “You as well, Mr. Van Dorn and Mr. Ghale,” the woman said. “The Harbinger would like your attendance, if you please.”

  Surprise crossed both their faces. “How can we possibly refuse an invitation from his magnificence?” Jackie asked, more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  Jackie removed the pistol at his side, and another that was hidden at the small of his back under his long coat. He tossed a cheeky smile at one of the guards as his bowie knife clattered onto the desk.

  Akshay placed his pistol on the desk. Then, with the utmost reverence, he carefully removed the large, angled blade at the small of his back and placed it next to his pistol. Next came a switchblade that was strapped to his ankle. Finally, he produced a small black piece of metal that Connor hadn’t noticed before. It was flat and somewhat elliptical with a ring on one end. The ring was the only visible piece while in his pocket.

  “Arms out, please,” she said. Two of the guards closed to frisk the party. They breezed through their search of the men in the group, hungry to turn their attention to the women.

  If Lavi was bothered by the aggressive and overly-thorough search, she didn’t show it. Her face wore a mildly bored look, as their hands reached under her cloths to explore every curve and fold of her body. If Connor hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was waiting for a kettle of tea to boil.

  But when the guards turned their attention to Charisma, Connor fought nausea as they used the search as an excuse to grope her. Her face screwed up in revulsion as the search progressed, growing ever more invasive. She visibly quivered in disgust as one of the guards spent almost two minutes with his hand exploring down the front of her pants but her eyes were hard and she forced herself to stand firm.

  Once Lavi’s search had been completed, she came to stand next to Connor and grabbed his hand firmly. Her strength was all that kept Connor from a futile charge against the two huge guards while their hands viciously invaded the private depths under Charisma’s clothes.

  When the searches were finally over, the two guards commanded the party to follow them to Paxton’s private office. Connor leaned toward Charisma, but she stopped his concerned question with a smile. It was strained, but enough to tell him she was ok. For now.

  Every part of the ship leading to the office was as equally immaculate and lavish as the entry room had been. Thick rugs and carpets lined the floor so Paxton’s regal feet would never have to touch cold, hard metal. More bright and colorful paintings and tapestries covered walls that were themselves painted shades of almost blinding reds, yellows, sky blues, and neon greens. Even metal stairs that should have been ugly bare metal grating wore sumptuous carpeting and loud coloring.

  More beautiful naked women worked throughout the ship on various tasks. Some wore the smallest French-maid aprons as they cleaned, others were thoughtfully provided work gloves and boots for labor, but nothing else. None interacted with the party, but each bowed to the guards as the men passed.

  “I’m noticing a trend,” Jackie muttered to Akshay as he passed one of the women.

  “It’s good to be the king,” the large Indian growled back under his breath.

  They were ushered into the most ornate room yet, located four decks above the entry. The guards shut the doors behind them, leaving them alone. Almost alone.

  Along the left wall was a velvet sofa that matched the red throne behind the desk. At each end was a slumped naked woman. One woman was blonde, her face drawn and blank. She was clearly oblivious to her surroundings. The other had dark hair and grinned manically at whatever it was only she could see.

  Charisma immediately rushed to the two women, checking on their condition. “Drugged,” she said after finishing a thorough assessment by shining a light into unresponsive eyes.

  “Leave them for now,” Wild Bill said.

  Charisma’s eyes flew open and her jaw dropped at the callous order. She turned to Lavi expecting support.

  “He’s right,” Lavi said. Her voice was stony and strong, but there was a hint of regret in her eyes.

  Charisma ignored them and fished a compact jet injector out of her belt pouch and connected a vial. After each woman got a dose, she returned her equipment to her pouch and turned to Wild Bill and Lavi. Charisma’s face challenged them to object. Neither did.

  A plush royal purple carpet covered the entire floor, and a teak desk faced the door. Jackie glanced through a bookshelf along the wall opposite the couch while he rubbed his face. Surreptitiously, he caught the eye of the others and tapped a finger near his eye and ear. Either the room was bugged, or he strongly suspected it so.

  Various comfortable and expensive chairs faced the desk, enough for each of them. The others took seats, Akshay and Lavi making a point to turn theirs so they could see the door. The throne behind the desk with its brilliant coloring and extra thick velvet cushions proved too irresistible for Jackie.

  When Paxton finally came in twenty minutes later, Jackie was smoking a giant cigar he’d found in a humidor and lounged on Paxton’s throne with his feet on the desk. He’d been occupying his time by flipping through one of Paxton’s dog-eared tomes.

  “Greetings friends!” Paxton shouted, a huge grin pasted on his bloated face. To say Paxton was a little rotund would be like saying the Ka’Rathi were a little hostile. The man had to be more than three hundred and fifty pounds. Layers of blubber hung on his frame, and the effort of walking in the room caused him to sweat. His face was beet red as he lumbered toward his desk.

  “I see you’re enjoying Dostoyevsky, Mr. Van Dorn,” Paxton said to Jackie looking at the book’s cover. “Is he one of your favorites?”

  Jackie closed the book and looked at the cover, as if seeing it for the first time. “Never heard of him,” he said impudently tossing the book on his desk. A cloud crossed Paxton’s face, but the smile never faltered. His mood improved somewhat when Jackie found somewhere else to sit.

  “I can see that your reputation for wit is well deserved,” the bloated man said with a dark smile. Then he turned to the rest of the group. “Welcome to the Paxton. In case you’re wondering, yes, I did name it after myself. I thought it needed a name that conveyed power, prestige, and magnificence. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Can’t argue that,” Wild Bill said. His mouth opened to continue, but Paxton beat him to it.

  “My name is Heramus Paxton, and I am at your service,” the man said while bowing as low and gracefully as his great bulk would allow. Wild Bill introduced himself only as Bill then the others of the group. Paxton smiled at each of them, his eyes lingering on the women. “I hope you’ve all built an appetite,” he said as he pressed one of several buttons on his desk.

  The office door opened and yet another naked female entered. Wearing a gossamer French maid apron and matching ruffled headpiece, she pushed a shining metal cart with polished silver serving trays and matching teapot. What made her standout, however was the fact she couldn’t have been older than fifteen years of age.

  The girl was visibly trembling in fear of Paxton as she removed the cover from the serving tray displaying an assortment of delicate sandwiches and steaming meats.

  “May I tempt any of you with refreshments?” he asked as the woman rolled the cart to each person in turn. “I find the peppered lamb exceptionally good.”

  “We ate before we came,” Lavi said. “Thank you for your courtesy.” There was a distinct edge to her voice.

  Paxton’s smile became catlike. He was obviously thrilled at being able to get under their skin. “Of course,” the fat slob purred. “Perhaps then some tea? Or even some Scotch?”

  Akshay perked up ever so slightly at the word Scotch. Cunning Paxton didn’t miss the reaction. One could almost hear the victory in his smile as he waved the girl over to Akshay. A bottle of twenty-five-year aged Glenlivet rested in
her hands just a couple feet in front of the large Indian’s face.

  Akshay stared hungrily at the bottle for a moment, but a few seconds later he sat back in his chair and waved the woman away. A flicker of fear crossed her face and she looked to Paxton for direction. The disgusting man waggled a finger for her to approach.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Paxton said as he pointed at a variety of foods on the platter. He reached out and rested a hand on the girl’s rump and his eyes drank in her body as she served his food. “If you hadn’t filled up beforehand, you could be enjoying some of the best luxuries Sanctuary can offer.” He turned his grin back to the group as the poor girl wheeled the cart out of the room.

  Connor fought rolling waves of nausea. He’d never seen this kind of brutality and barbarism. He hadn’t thought any human capable of this level of depravity. Silently, he wished for a Ka’Rathi raid. Even death would be preferable to spending another second with this man.

  Heyerdahl, also, wasn’t faring well. It was obvious to anyone that he was going numb. In fact, Connor started to worry the man would go catatonic. All Heyerdahl did was sit and stare at his hands. He didn’t blink; it didn’t even look like he was breathing. He’d become a slouching human statue.

  Charisma was starting to look green. She’s used up most of her willpower trying to cope with the condition of the town, the treatment of the women here, and the invasive groping she’d endured. What little willpower she had left was focused on keeping herself from flying at the despicable monster in a blind rage.

  Even Lavi was showing signs of distress. Her face was impassive, her body appearing relaxed. But Connor had spent a great deal of time training with the woman, time that allowed him to better understand her subtle signs and moods. She seemed impassive, but there was rage hidden behind that stony face that few could see.