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

by Kristoph, David

  It was so embarrassing, so ridiculous of a failure, that Kari nearly laughed.

  So she had two goals, and unfortunately they didn't have much overlap. She needed to fulfill her existing mission and capture Farrow alive. But first, and more importantly, she had to get in contact with the orbital station to verify the original mission was still valid at all. If mission parameters had changed, and she captured and revealed herself to Farrow too soon, she could ruin some larger plan. It wouldn't be her fault, but she doubted the station officer would care. Davon would love to pin a planetary failure on the Admiral's daughter, she thought with a grimace. The backlash of that would be far-reaching.

  I will use Leo's comms when we reach his garage. And if that didn't work, then she'd just have to figure something else out. I'll cross that dune when I come to it.

  They crossed the actual dunes at a respectable pace, all things considered. Just as Saria's angry orb descended behind them, they appeared over one sandy mound and the scattered shapes of the perrin root scavengers appeared in the flatlands before them. From so high up they looked like black insects moving across the desert, bending over and searching for the vines in the shallow sand. A transport truck, large and blocky, sat some distance away.

  Through the arm around her waist, Kari felt Farrow's muscles relax. "Just in time," he said, glancing sideways at her. "I was certain the cripple would keep us from reaching them before they left."

  She made a face at him, pretending to be indignant. In truth, she was just as relieved. Probably more. If they'd missed the nightly transport truck they still could have walked their way into the city--the driver was always punctual to make sure he returned before the vehicle curfew, so there were usually stragglers who missed the departure and had to return on foot. But in her weakened state Kari didn't think she could make the final few miles that way.

  They descended the dune as the scavengers were finishing up. The truck's double doors opened on the back, revealing rough benches inside with no cushioning or safety harnesses. Farrow pushed Kari up while Geral pulled from inside, then gently helped her down onto a bench. A wrinkled old man eyed her from the opposite bench but said nothing.

  The others soon piled in, pointedly ignoring the new passengers, and the transport truck hummed to life. They felt a jolt as it hovered into the air and lurched forward across the sand.

  Eager to return home, the driver wound his way in between the dunes speedily, bouncing from one side to the other as it hovered above the ground. Kari's leg had begun to stiffen the moment she sat down, and every jostle sent a bolt of lightning through her knee. The other passengers, tired scavengers in faded clothing holding sacks of roots between their legs, began glancing over as she hissed with pain.

  "Don't suppose you'll tell us how that happened," said the wrinkled old man, breaking the silence.

  "Stinger," was all Geral said. At least it was true, this time. The scavengers weren't blind; they knew the Freemen who wandered in from the desert every so often were less than legitimate. They usually ignored them entirely, not wanting to make any trouble.

  "Is that so?" The old man sounded skeptical. "You didn't get that in any firefight, did you? Are the peacekeepers going to jump the truck and shoot us all because they can't tell us from you?"

  "It was a stinger," Geral said.

  "Fat Tom has rules against transporting wounded. Always reports them to the peacekeepers to deal with, to stay out of trouble." The old man stood. "He'll be tossing her out when I tell him, so you might as well get ready."

  In a dangerously quiet voice, Farrow said, "If you move, you die." His pistol was in his hand, at his side, pointed across the truck.

  The old man stood still, or at least as still as someone could in a fast-moving, bouncing vehicle.

  "Sit back down," Farrow instructed, "and say nothing more."

  The old man hesitated a moment longer before sitting. "Knew your kind cared nothing for the common Praetari," he spat. "Just another group wanting power. Just like the Melisao. Your eyes may be a different color, but besides that you're the same."

  Kari could tell the words had stung. Farrow put his pistol away, but he wore a faraway look after that, and said nothing for the rest of the ride.

  The bumping continued, and Kari clenched Farrow's arm to keep from flying off the seat. By the time the vehicle stopped in town Kari had nearly passed out from the pain.

  Praetar City occupied a long strip of flat land, with the desert on one side and the sulphurous ocean on the other. The silhouette of the Governor's Palace showed in the distance, a black triangle pointing to the sky. The rest of the skyline was comprised of blocky brick buildings, the tallest only five levels, with large factories beyond those. A single paved boulevard stretched down the length of the city like a spine, but the rest of the side streets--such as the one on which Fat Tom had stopped the truck--were a mixture of dirt and sand.

  With Geral on one side and Farrow on the other, they escorted her into the city. Kari gave halfhearted directions, barely able to lift her head to look. She would raise a hand toward one street, and they would follow it for a while. Then she'd grunt and roll her head and they would turn, moving down an alley. Her eyelids drooped and occasionally Geral would need to shake her awake to ask another question. She drifted in and out of sleep, legs moving on their own.

  Eventually they reached a small building between two larger structures, with no windows and a single metal door.

  Farrow looked a question at Kari. She nodded. He banged on the door with a fist.

  It opened immediately, as if the man were waiting for them; though only a crack, enough to show half a face in the street light. "Huh?" the face said.

  "You Leo?" Farrow said.

  "Huh."

  Farrow pointed. "Says she knows you. Needs medical attention."

  The door slammed closed. Then the sound of several locks being unfastened before it opened again, this time enough to allow them to quickly pass inside.

  "It's a good thing I trust you," Farrow told her while they followed Leo down a long, dark hall. "Or I'd expect an ambush here."

  Kari laughed at the joke known only to her. Farrow took her laughter at face value.

  The acrid smell stung her nose, like something strange had been burned, along with the lighter smell of engine grease. They passed through the garage, dark shapes all around that were probably vehicles. Into a back room, where Leo closed the door and flicked on a white overhead light. Unlike the garage, everything was kept to a pristine cleanliness in here. The floor was concrete but had been swept recently, and an examination table rose from the center of the room. The far wall held a long cabinet full of drawers and clean glass.

  Leo himself was bare from the waist up, with a yellow tail of hair running down an otherwise bald head. The thinness of his chest and limbs hinted at addiction, with a sunken look in his eyes. I know that look. Half the time I wear the same.

  His eyes darted around the group as he helped Kari onto the table. "Stinger?"

  "Uh huh," Farrow said.

  Kari laid flat. Wonderfully flat. She hadn't realized just how tired she was, though the others had practically carried her there. She opened her mouth to say something but only a sigh emerged.

  "You look worse than normal," Leo said. "And that's saying a lot."

  Across the room, Farrow snorted.

  "Fuck... you... Leo."

  Mira slowly approached. "Hey. I know you. You're the doctor..."

  "I sure am," Leo said while bending over Kari's leg, "but I'd thank you not to go around saying so. Non-Melisao medical facilities aren't strictly legal."

  "No," Mira said, "I mean you're the doctor from the Station. I brought my girl, months ago."

  Leo's face softened with recognition. "Ohh. The girl with the constricted airway?" Mira nodded. "Precious thing. Eyes like big marbles. How does she fare now? The medicine I gave you should have run out..."

  "I did as you asked. I got her away, to a place with c
leaner air. She's off the planet, somewhere safe." Her voice sounded close to breaking.

  Leo stopped examining Kari's leg to glance up. "Off the planet," he repeated. "Via Bruno's shuttles?"

  Mira said yes.

  Leo glanced down at Kari for confirmation, and she gave the barest shake of her head. Not now. Too much to deal with as it is.

  "That's nice," Leo said. To the others: "Kari's lost a lot of blood."

  "No fuckin' shit," Farrow grumbled.

  He cut away Kari's pants at the knee and slowly unwrapped the makeshift bandages from her calf. Kari felt the sting of air on the wound as Leo began prodding around. She opened her eyes to look. It was a mess of crusted blood and bits of sand.

  "She'll need a transfusion."

  "Then give her a transfusion," Farrow said. He sounded tired, impatient.

  Leo retrieved two small bags from the pristine cabinet, one clear and one red. He fastened the clear one to a hook above Kari and pulled a needle from his pocket, connecting it to the end of a tube. Doesn't look clean, the thought drifted across her mind. Why is that dirty in a room so clean? Kari turned away and felt a pinch in her elbow.

  A tingling feeling ran up her arm and blurred her mind. She stopped caring about the needle's cleanliness.

  "Can you pay?" Leo asked quietly.

  "We sure as shit can," Farrow said in a tone Kari knew meant trouble. She couldn't see him but knew his hand was on his pistol. "We'll pay with a trade. Fix Kari up just fine, keep her here a few days, and we don't throw you to the peacekeepers."

  A hilarious threat. If only Farrow knew... Kari tried to hold onto the thought but it drifted away in a pleasingly calm way.

  "You wouldn't," Leo said, nonchalant.

  Wait a minute. A few days?

  "We'll also be needing supplies," Farrow continued. "Kari said you have rifles and charge packs. Three of each. Just to borrow. We'll bring 'em back when we're done, don't you worry. Oh, and some grenades."

  "Wait," Kari mumbled.

  Leo glared down at Kari. "I suppose you'll all be wanting med packs too? What about the trousers off my hips? So long as you bring them back, as if that makes the theft any cleaner."

  "Friend, trust me when I say it is more important than whatever you would use them for. Just give us what we need and there'll be no problems. We leave in ten minutes."

  "Wait," Kari said, rising on one elbow. She needed them to stay, just for a little while. Her head was so cloudy. "You... you can't leave without me."

  Farrow smiled sadly at her. Sympathetic, concerned. He's doing all of this for me.

  "I'll be prime to go in the morning," she insisted. "Just need some polishing."

  "Kari..." Mira began.

  Farrow stared at her a moment longer before turning away. "Ten minutes, Leo. Just the three rifles and..."

  No.

  Mustering what focus she could, Kari pulled the pistol from her hip and aimed it at Farrow's chest. She could reveal herself right then, make Leo call the peacekeepers, but even in her delirious state she knew that was a bad idea. She didn't have control of the situation, and needed to make contact with the orbital station first. Capture their leader, if possible. "I am going on this mission," she slurred. "If you intend to go without me, say so now, so I can put a hole in your chest big enough to see the other side."

  Mira looked mortified. Geral uncomfortable. But Farrow only grinned, slowly putting his thumbs through his belt. "Right now, I'd bet my life against a duneroach that you couldn't hit sand if you fell out of a cruiser."

  "You need my rifle..." she said.

  Leo mumbled, "Oh, so now it's four rifles."

  "...and you need my skill. Right now you are only three, and Mira is mostly just moral support. A night's rest for all of us, some extra painkillers for me, and we'll be stronger for it. Four is much better than three."

  "Earlier you were boasting of how Mira eye'd a stinger," Farrow said.

  "Earlier I was in shock."

  "And you've a clear mind now?"

  Leo said, "I haven't even given her the heavy stuff yet..."

  Farrow ran a hand through his hair, considering. "Along with everything else, we're short on shitting time. Hob's gunna..." he paused to glance at Leo. "We need to be back by the third day."

  "Give me until the morning," Kari insisted. "If I'm not in fighting shape you can leave without me. You'll still have plenty of time to get the pilots and return in time. You have nothing to lose, and an extra body to gain."

  It took all of her concentration just to hold the pistol upright and in Farrow's general direction. How had it gotten so heavy? Just agree, stars damn you. If he insisted on leaving right then...

  "Some sleep will help," Geral said. "After the stinger..."

  Farrow looked at his two compatriots, and their fatigue must have convinced him. "Fine. We'll wait until the morning. But I doubt you'll be ready, and I won't take along a stubborn woman who can barely stand just because she waves a pistol at me."

  Kari collapsed back on the table, arm hanging off the side. That was it. Everything was over. Now this can all end.

  Leo left to show the others where they could sleep. Kari's world spun with drugs and diluted pain. When Leo returned he carefully locked the door.

  Everything about his demeanor changed. "Glorious shade Sandrakari," he said, dipping his head in her direction.

  "Glorious shade Leonard," she mumbled. "I need your help."

  Chapter 19

  It had been so long since she'd heard or spoken the honorific with another of her kind. The words felt strange on her tongue.

  "I gave you a weak bag," he explained, "so I could keep you lucid enough to talk when they were gone. But you're going to need the heavy stuff, and it's very unlikely that you will be in good enough shape to leave tomorrow." He pulled a chair over to the table by her leg and sat down. "Now. Would you kindly mind explaining why you are here with a handful of Freemen, risking years of my own cover?"

  "I need to use your computer terminal. Have to contact the orbital station to check in." She explained her situation, the base and the impending attack, the orbital strike that never struck, the plan to get inside the palace cells and bring back the pilots.

  Leo listened quietly while cleaning her leg with gauze-covered prongs. "Unfortunately, my terminal has not yet been connected. And won't be, for several months more. I am still trying to reestablish my reputation since the raid on the Station."

  Star shit. So much for contacting the base. "How do you communicate with your command, then?"

  "I don't," he said. "Long-term cover, with a binary communicator to indicate when I have what I need and am ready for extraction."

  She winced as he cut away a flap of skin with a snip. "Fine then. I need you to go to the nearest security station and return with a brash of peacekeepers. They just have to capture Farrow. He's the mouthy one." After a moment she added, "And the girl. She's harmless."

  Leo shook his head. "Not gunna happen. I can't break cover until I find out where Bowl Belly's gang is getting all the parts for their cruisers."

  "My mission should override yours," she sighed. The cruiser gangs that sometimes raided outposts were hardly more than a nuisance. "Triple-A priority, twice over because of the impending attack."

  "Mine's triple-A too," Leo said. "Need a command officer to set priority beyond that."

  Triple-A for a bunch of bandits? How did that make any sense? "This is the end, Leo. The Children are attacking soon, both here and on Melis. Bowl Belly's gang is meaningless."

  He spoke calmly while hunched over her leg. "That's not my decision. Nor yours."

  "Leo, be reasonable. This is a huge attack, hundreds of bodies and electroids. We have the leader of the Freemen sleeping in the room next door. I just need some help sending the message."

  "Get me a command override and I'll be as helpful as you want. Stars, you're lucky I'm helping you at all."

  "I can't get a command override," she said thro
ugh gritted teeth, "without some help. If you hadn't noticed, I'm somewhat incapacitated."

  "Not my problem."

  If she could have raised her upper body enough to stab him, she would have.

  "Why didn't you capture them sooner?" he asked. "With the element of surprise you should have been able to take them out, escort them into safe hands."

  His tone was far too lecturing. "If my leg wasn't a giveaway, we ran into problems along the way."

  "You're thinking too hard." He rose to retrieve some bandages from the wall. "You're going to the Governor's palace. Right? Through the tunnel? Simply announce yourself there, or alert the guards. They'll already be by the cells, so you'll save everyone a few steps. Simple. You don't need to bust my cover here."

  "That requires me to actually get up in the morning. You said I wouldn't be in good enough..."

  "I have ways," he whispered. "Some stimulants that'll make you forget you ever knew what pain felt like."

  He was right, of course. Farrow was practically marching himself to his own capture. And there were terminals in the gaoler's office, adjacent to the cells. It would be easy, provided she could get there in one piece. She glanced down at her leg. Leo was using a needle to sew up the wound. "And my stitches won't burst open the first time I make a sudden movement?"

  "Oh, they will," he said. "This is just for tonight. I have a more robust technique I'll use before you leave." With the stitching done he grabbed the red bag and hung it from a hook, then switched tubes. "Don't think about that now. Here comes the heavy stuff, and the blood you lack. You'll need a good, deep sleep before you go."

  A pang of alarm struck her. "I don't want to risk sleeping too long that they leave without me."

  He fiddled with the bags. "You'll be fine. I'll wake you."

  "No," she said, raising her pistol. "Nothing too heavy."

  "Too late. Already connected. If you shoot me then you won't have anyone to wake you in time."