Born of Sand (Tales of a Dying Star Book 5)

by Kristoph, David

  I pray to a different God than you. A God of flesh and clothes, on a planet far away.

  "It's not that," Kari said. "I just think having children running around what is supposed to be a military base, especially if there were a battle... it would distract the fighters."

  "I've seen you slip her extra food too," he said. "You don't need to pretend. We all have a soft spot for the girl. She's like our daughter. All of ours, everyone at this base. Hopefully nothing happens to her, but if anything does... it's not your fault, or mine. It's just how shitty things are."

  I'm going to kill her. Why did that feel so miserable? She could bear the guilt of killing those she'd pretended to befriend, and even relative innocents like the factory workers. But for some reason she had a driving desire to save someone innocent, to prove she was not the ruthless killer they all thought. Why? she wondered at the pit in her stomach. Why can't I banish this feeling?

  "The tunnel," Kari suddenly said. "The new entrance is at Factory Twelve."

  Farrow paused. "Yes," he eventually said. "How did you know?"

  "I've had jobs that required me to slip into the palace. That tunnel provided the way a dozen times."

  Farrow grimaced. "Well shit. If I had known then I could have asked you about it instead of sending Geral to scout. Ahh, well. No death no despair, I suppose. What about it?"

  "That factory," Kari said, "is where Mira worked."

  He gave her a blank stare.

  "Mira will know the layout of the building, the habits of the workers and foreman. She might notice something the rest of us do not. She would be a valuable resource to take along."

  "Geral knows the building just fine. Mother above, so do you, right? And Mira doesn't know the foreman, because he was removed after she left. There's a new one." He shook his head. "Besides, we need Mira here overseeing the electroid production. She's a foreman in her own right, now."

  Save one, the thought invaded Kari's mind. Save someone, whoever you can.

  "It has been over a year since I used the tunnel," Kari lied, "so my knowledge may be out of date. Geral knows the building layout, but he doesn't know the habits of the peacekeepers, their patrols, how often they visited and inspected. If capturing these pilots is so crucial, then having a backup to Geral is a safe bet." Farrow opened his mouth and Kari pushed on, "And Mira has our electroid production moving along smoothly. Every girl knows her place, she hardly needs to be here to oversee."

  "No. I would prefer to keep her here. I trust her, now, but am not confident she's ready to delve into danger." He turned to leave. "Gather your things. We need to go."

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "You're afraid," she spat, letting some anger trickle into her voice. "You don't want anything to happen to her, so you'll leave her here where it's safe. That's fine, for now, but when the real battle happens her inexperience will kill her. She'll freeze, or hesitate, or lock up and a peacekeeper will put a beam in her chest. We lost five veterans taking the freighter. Most of our flesh is made up of women with ten days of training. Mira isn't much better, but she's begun acting like a leader, and she needs a small taste of experience. This is her chance. A morsel gained now will reap a meal later." She scoffed for emphasis. "I don't want to protect her. I want to improve her."

  I want to save her.

  Guilt usually worked on Farrow, but for a long moment Kari didn't think he would budge. He looked into her eyes with anger and shame, searching for something within. If only he knew my eyes were truly blue, she thought idly. Then what would he see within?

  His eyes softened. "Fine. You are right, it will help her. A few days from now we will need as many experienced Freemen as we can get, and this is an easy way." He jabbed a finger at her breastbone. "But you will be the one to keep an eye on her. Guide her gently, giving advice while we go. I want her to gain some first-hand experience, but keep her back, out of most harm's way. Understood?"

  Kari nodded. "Understood."

  "Get your things, we've taken too long. I want to be topside within five minutes." He turned and strode from the room, the sound of his boots drifting away until disappearing entirely.

  You have no idea. She removed the second device from her pocket, the one with the cap on one end protecting a single button. She turned it over in her fingers delicately, a weapon more powerful than all the electroids and rifles the Freemen could hope to bring to bear.

  Chapter 16

  Kari stood in the small lift with her unsuspecting compatriots, waiting for Farrow to join them. He stood a few feet away, speaking quietly to Hob.

  "If we're not back in three days, attack with our full strength," he said. "Don't bother with stealth. There's no point, with so many metal electroids marching along the dunes. They'll be obvious to anyone from a mile away."

  "I can program the rowbits to duck and hide," Dok offered from his workbench. "Would only take a day. Flatten out like worms at a voice command."

  "It wouldn't matter, we don't have enough sandcapes," Farrow said. He turned back to Hob. "Focus on the bunkers along the main city street. Once they're down push straight for the Governor's Palace. It might be worth sending a small unit, four or five, to the tunnel leading under the palace. If we fail they'll probably block it off or double the guards, but it's worth checking regardless."

  "And the aircraft?" Hob asked. "Since I'm the only one who can fly, should I even bother? Is one worth it?"

  Farrow chewed that over. "I've been going back and forth on that myself. Even one is valuable, but it would be a target for the Melisao aircraft. It'd be a death sentence. It's up to you. Use your best judgement, but don't throw yourself away for nothing. We might have enough strength to win on the ground alone."

  Hob clasped Farrow's arm. "We will not lose," he said, eyes intense and certainty in his voice.

  Next to Kari, Mira said, "I don't understand why I'm going."

  Because I need to save someone.

  "You need experience," Kari said.

  "I have plenty of experience. Farrow says I'm progressing quickly--he's been helping me train in the armoury--and with the rifle I hit the target more often than not." She patted her hip. "Even better with the pistol."

  They all carried pistols, since they were easily concealed. Once in the city, rifles would immediately give them away. It won't matter, because Farrow and Mira are the only ones who will reach the city alive, Kari thought gravely. "That's not experience. That's practice. Experience is being in an actual battle, feeling the rush of adrenaline and blood as someone tries to kill you, and you them."

  Mira thought about that. "Is a little bit of experience today really going to make a difference when we attack in earnest?"

  "It will make all difference in the world." To me, though. Not you.

  A small, fast-moving body came running around the corner, sliding to a stop in front of the lift door. Binny held a piece of bread in her hand and another chunk on the inside of her cheek. She looked on the verge of tears. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye."

  Mira spoke before Kari could. "We'll be back in a few days."

  No we won't.

  "You should still say goodbye," Binny insisted. "It's polite."

  "It's not polite to talk with a mouthful of food," Mira said, "but that hasn't stopped you, now has it?"

  Binny rolled her eyes and looked up at Kari. "Don't do anything too dangerous," she said in a lecturing tone. "I'm sick of stitching up your wounds when you're careless."

  Kari forced herself to smile. "One of the factory women is the new medic. You don't have to stitch anything up anymore."

  Binny's eyes watered. Without warning she darted forward and wrapped her arms around Kari, burying her face in the shade's ribs. "I would still do it," she murmured. "I would scold you, but I would."

  Kari smoothed out Binny's hair and tried to ignore the aching feeling in her chest. I have no choice, she told herself.

  Farrow approached and smiled at the sight. "I've got someth
ing for you," he told Binny. He crouched and pulled out the metal bowl, which the girl took eagerly. "Don't tell Maggy, or I'll never hear the shitting end of it when I return."

  Kari stared straight ahead.

  Binny took the bowl and hugged Farrow too, then ran away out of sight.

  Farrow watched her go before joining the others inside the lift. He pulled the lever by the door. The rectangular compartment lurched, pulling them up to the surface.

  Kari fingered the device in her pocket, feeling the smooth edges where the cap connected. She pictured her father, her sisters and brother, reminding herself of her purpose. I am a shade of the Empire, the silent blade in the dark.

  There would be nothing silent about what she would unleash upon Victory Base as soon as she was far enough away.

  The air thickened with heat as the lift neared the top. It didn't fully surface in the desert, but stopped in a compartment room only a few feet beneath the sand. From there they exited the lift and climbed a small ladder to a hatch. Orange grains cascaded down on them as Farrow opened it, and then one by one they emerged onto the sand.

  The first few seconds were like being thrust into an oven, with an enveloping, oppressive heat. Sweat already beaded on the Praetari's necks. Kari felt her face flush. She quickly raised the hood of her cape to cover her bald head, both to protect it from the sun and hide the fact that she did not sweat. Most Praetari weren't directly aware that the Melisao had long since evolved beyond perspiration, but there was no reason to so obviously single herself out.

  Farrow looked around the group, at Mira and Kari, Geral and Sandra, before leading the way east.

  "Why can't we take a cruiser?" Mira asked. "If the journey is going to take most of a day on foot..."

  "This is the way we slip into the city," Farrow began explaining. On the outskirts of the city, where civilization transformed into desert, a variety of wildlife grew. Perrin roots especially, the juice-filled plant that thrived only a few inches beneath the sand. The peacekeepers strictly controlled the supply of food on Praetar, but they allowed a single exception for the perrin root, since it provided so little nourishment. Scavengers from the city visited the fringe area at dusk, when the roots swelled and became most visible.

  "So we will slip among the scavengers, pretending to be searching for roots. And when night falls we will return to the city with them, unnoticed."

  "If we brought a cruiser," Geral added, "we'd need to leave it somewhere in the desert before we joined the scavengers. Even if we covered it up with a tarp, the risk of it being discovered is too great. This way may take longer, but it's the only way to be certain we slip into the city without the peacekeepers knowing."

  The peacekeepers on the ground may not know, Kari thought, but the Melisao in orbit do. Every movement by the Freemen, whether salvaging aircraft parts from the graveyard or slipping in and out of the city, had been meticulously tracked for years. The only reason any of you have lived this long is because of my presence. Because of my mission.

  And now that mission, to collect information on Akonai and the rest of the Children, had come to an end. The trigger device in Kari's pocket weighed almost nothing, yet somehow felt heavy with burden.

  She began counting her steps as they traveled east. When nobody was looking she rolled up her sleeve and glanced at her wrist computer to compare it with the time. After forty minutes they had traveled three thousand steps. About one and a half miles. The approximate safe distance from an orbital strike is one mile, she heard the briefing in her head. Recommended range is two. Better to err on the safe side and put more distance between her and the base. Besides, she still needed to summon her courage. Another glance at her wrist computer--and some quick mental math--showed that the orbital station would not pass overhead for a few more minutes, anyways. The time was fast approaching.

  "The workers learn awfully fast," Mira said, falling in beside her. "Even after being beaten down so long, they're braver than they know, if you give them a chance."

  Kari grunted. She was busy considering her position among the group. Farrow and Sandra walked in front, but Geral had taken up the rear. She would kill Sandra first, then lunge at Farrow to disable him. A slice to the right bicep, to make it impossible to raise his pistol but not hamper his ability to walk. After that she would turn and shoot Geral. With the others gone, Mira would come along willingly.

  The entire attack would take seconds. And if performed immediately after the orbital strike, they would all be too shocked and distracted to know what was happening.

  "Some of them have to be brave," Mira rambled. "Those with children. Once you have a child everything changes. Your own life doesn't matter. You're not afraid to die. The only thing that matters is their safety, their lives. It's not a decision at all."

  "Uh huh." A dune rose up ahead. That would be the spot, she decided. Taller than many of the others, it would provide a wondrous view of the payload striking the base.

  "Thank you."

  Kari stopped. "What?"

  "Thank you. For helping me. I felt helpless, valuable to no one, until you showed me how to defend myself. I know I'm not as skilled as most of the others yet, but I feel more valuable."

  "You're more valuable than the factory workers," Geral piped up. "They're coming along, but they're definitely more raw than you. Stars, Mira, you have such a head start on your training that you're one of the veteran Freemen now!"

  The woman beamed at that.

  "The others will do just fine," Farrow said. "They may charge forward with more fear than skill, but they'll help us all the same. Many will die, but it's the price of freedom. They know the risks, want the opportunity."

  They'll never have the opportunity, Kari thought.

  But why did it have to be that way? Because some officer stationed on a base orbiting the planet said so? They would be dead with or without my help. All she provided was the timing. It didn't matter who signaled the trigger. Your duty is to obey, not decide. The blade, not the voice. The hierarchy of command is important.

  Her father had told her that, years ago when she was still a recruit at the Espionage Academy in Luccar. He is why I have to do this. Kari was a shade, tasked with defending the Empire where normal soldiers could not. To protect her father, preparing to lead the Exodus Fleet to the Tyran system. To protect her sisters, Beth on the Ancillary and Pavani standing guard over the Emperor's immortal soul.

  And for Alard, her brother. He should have graduated from the Academy by then, sent out on his first tour. Unless father used his influence to bring him along with the Exodus, she thought with a grin. Admiral Acteon loved his daughters dearly, but he had a special affection for his only son.

  All of them were targets for the Children, or any other group who wished to impede their ability to flee the system. Kari glanced at the broiling sun, yellow and dying. All they were attempting to do was flee their star, spread somewhere new. Trying to save their civilization. These Children, star-worshipping fanatics, were getting in the way, trying to slow or stop them at every turn. What damage could they cause if Praetar fell? If they regained their spacefaring ability in force?

  All of my training has led to this single moment.

  But her resolve still wavered as she pictured the women within Victory Base, dozens of them, dirty and desperate. Kari had killed corrupt men, rapers, murderers and thieves. Occasionally her position had required her to kill innocents, which she did unflinchingly, but never so many at once. The innocents always suffer war the most. They would suffer it regardless of Kari's actions. And if allowed, they would become more than just refugees on a sand-blown planet. Akonai may have abandoned Praetar for now, but he would surely return once the work was done. Kari pictured recruiting stations, men and women lining up practicing their laserfire at targets shaped like peacekeepers.

  Yet there was Mira, walking alongside her, still innocent and hopeful. She's hardly a threat at all. Mira wanted to reach her daughters, nothing more. The minu
te the Freemen's power disappeared she would go with whoever allowed her to live. But the others...

  I don't think I can do it.

  Kari's hand trembled as they climbed the dune. She felt a strange powerlessness, a paralysis of action. Her feet moved but the rest of her body refused to obey. Her breathing became laboured. Why was it so hard? She need only obey, not decide. There was no decision to make. Why couldn't she shake away the guilt? She licked her lips, willing moisture into her pallid mouth.

  Binny's face leapt into view, smiling and teary-eyed. Kari nearly stumbled in the sand. Not only was the girl a child, completely innocent, but her family had been loyal to the Melisao. She had every reason to survive, yet there was no possible way. It would be painless, everything destroyed in an explosive instant, yet that hardly soothed Kari's conscience.

  She knew it was time. There was a small window in which the orbital strike could launch. She needed to act.

  I am the blade, not the voice. I am the blade, not the voice.

  Before she could think any more, Kari shoved her hand in her pocket and flipped open the cap. She pressed the trigger for three seconds until the tiny device shuddered with confirmation.

  All the responsibility flushed from her body in an instant. Kari slumped her shoulders, relieved. Nobody else noticed. The signal had been received, and the payload would soon be on its way. It occurred to Kari that it was strange she was the only one to recognize such a momentous action, from which everything on Praetar would change. All of the rebels and their hope for the planet snuffed out in an instant.

  Five minutes.

  It wouldn't happen immediately. A technician in the orbital base would have the final approval before launch. But it was mostly a formality, a safety protocol in place. Within seconds the payload would be on its way, and the descent time would be precise.