Her Brother's Keeper

by Mike Kupari

  Devree stood up slowly, watching in awe as the ship approached the surface, balancing on its exhaust plume. As it neared the ground, a massive cloud of dust erupted from its landing site, obscuring the ship completely from view. The roar was amplified as the ship made its final descent, landing jacks extended, and was so loud that even as far away as Devree was, she covered her ears.

  A few moments later the roar ceased, echoing through the rugged Zanzibaran mountains for a few seconds before fading away. Suddenly it was eerily quiet. There was no sound but the wind and the whine of the ship’s engines as they spun down. The Andromeda became visible again as a breeze cleared away the dust cloud. Like a massive, finned bullet, the ship sat upright on the dusty brown wasteland. The light of Danzig-5012 reflected dully off the gunmetal hull as the sun finally cleared the distant mountains. It was morning, the fight was over, and she was still alive.

  Her radio, somehow still functional, crackled to life. It was Marcus doing a status check. “Everyone check in!” he demanded, sounding pretty ragged.

  “This is Halifax,” the first response came. “I’m injured but I’m still here. Somebody come cut me out of this can. The heavy is down.”

  “Roger,” Marcus said. “Wade is with me. I have eyes on Ken and Hondo. Overwatch, check in! What’s your status?”

  Devree removed her radio from its pouch, not having the microphone that was built into her helmet. “This is Overwatch,” she said slowly, her own voice sounding unfamiliar. “I am injured. Markgraf is KIA. I say again, Markgraf is dead.”

  There was a long pause before Marcus spoke again. “Copy that,” he said simply. “Med teams are on the way. Stay where you are.”

  “Overwatch copies,” Devree acknowledged. She looked down at Randy’s dust-covered body, then back out over the wastes of Zanzibar as the sun slowly rose. At that moment, she felt numb, detached, like she was still in mission mode. But later, she knew, later it would be different. She’d only known Markgraf for as long as they’d been on the ship together. He hadn’t owed her anything, hadn’t even known her that well, and he’d sacrificed his life for her. Damn it, she thought bitterly, lowering her head. Damn it.

  * * *

  The Andromeda stood like an obelisk, monolithic against the dry, rocky terrain of the Zanzibaran wastes, casting a long shadow as Danzig-5012 slowly rose over the horizon. Columns of smoke from destroyed militia vehicles rose into the pale sky, drifting southward on the wind. The ship’s cargo bay doors were open, her crane outstretched, slowly raising a personnel cage. Inside, Cecil Blackwood knelt by his wounded lover’s side, holding her hand, as a medical technician tended to her. Far below, a group of the ship’s crew, armed with laser weapons, stood watch. Three of the six remaining mercenaries had been wounded, and the seventh had been killed; their mood was solemn and none of them felt like climbing up the access ladder to the interior of the ship. So they waited in silence for the cage, which could only hold four people at a time.

  On the cargo deck, Captain Catherine Blackwood stood quietly, hands folded behind her back, as she waited for the cage to be hoisted aboard. Her leather flight jacket protected her from the impossibly dry, gusting winds; her peaked cap sat upon her head, very slightly cocked to one side. She struck the very image of the quintessential independent spacer, free-trader, and pirate hunter, yet for all that she was on edge. Her stomach fluttered as the cage was lifted into view. She hadn’t seen her brother in so long, and had spent many nights wondering if he’d even be alive when she arrived on Zanzibar. Now there he was at last! She wanted to run to him, hug her little brother, then choke the life out of the damned fool. Yet she refrained; Catherine was not one to lose her composure in front of her crew, and Cecil seemed preoccupied with the injured woman before him. Catherine didn’t know who she was, but she was obviously important to him, so she stood back and let Felicity Lowlander, the medical technician, raise the woman’s gurney and rush her to the medical bay.

  With the injured woman rushed off, and the cage already being lowered again, Cecil looked lost. In that moment, he very much resembled the shy young boy Catherine remembered, a gentle soul who was afraid of the dark, hated thunderstorms, and relied on his big sister to protect him after their mother passed away. Now, though, he had the look of a man who had been drinking too much for too long, and appeared to be almost in shock. His rescue and the ensuing gun battle must have been overwhelming for poor Cecil.

  Catherine took off her cap and approached her brother. “Hello, Cecil,” she said quietly.

  His eyes met hers. Before saying anything, before Catherine knew what was happening, Cecil wrapped his arms around his sister and gave her a big hug. His voice wavered as the thanked her. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  Catherine embraced her brother for a long moment, then stepped away rather awkwardly. “Yes, well . . . it’s good to see you, Cecil. I’m glad to see you alive.”

  “I’m sorry about your crewman down there,” he said. “What was his name?”

  “Randall Markgraf. I hired him on New Austin. That will be one of our stops on the way home.”

  “The family fortune isn’t what it used to be,” Cecil said, “but I’ll make sure his family is taken care of. They saved my life. They saved Bianca’s life. I can’t repay that debt.”

  “Bianca was the injured woman?”

  “Yes. She’s . . . well, it’s complicated. I should go with her. Where did they take her?”

  “Cecil, I know how you feel, but the medical bay isn’t that big, and we’ve got wounded to treat. I’ll have one of my crew take you down to the personnel quarters and find you a berth.”

  “I could really use a shower.”

  “Right now we’ve got to secure everything for liftoff. We’re going to hop back to Freeport. Once we get there, you’ll be able to get cleaned up. It’ll only take a short while.”

  “What about Bianca?”

  “My flight surgeon is one of the best. She’s in good hands. Right now they’re going to stabilize her for the boost. After we land, they’ll begin whatever treatment is necessary.”

  He nodded shakily. “It means the world to me.”

  “After we land, and you get some rest, and Bianca is recovering, we need to sit down and have a talk, little brother.”

  “There is a lot to tell.”

  “We have a very long journey home. There will plenty of time.”

  “Are Zak and Anna still with you? Are they okay?”

  “They’re both on board, and yes, they’re fine.”

  Cecil looked visibly relieved. “Thank you, Cat. My God, thank you so much.” A crewman appeared to take him down to the crew deck.

  Catherine touched her brother’s arm as he was led off, then spoke into her headset. “Command deck, this is the captain. Any other hostiles detected?”

  Luis Azevedo answered promptly. “Affirmative, Captain, but they’re all keeping their distance. We’ve received no communications from Aristotle Lang, either.”

  “Very good. Begin preparations for liftoff. I want us airborne as soon as all personnel are aboard and accounted for.” Even with its weapon systems, a ship like the Andromeda was vulnerable on the ground. “Get us back to our berth at Freeport. Out.” The ship still needed to be resupplied and refitted for the long journey back to civilized space, and given the state of port services on Zanzibar, the process would take more than a day. In the meantime, she’d have to alert the Freeport Enforcers and have a constant watch rotation standing guard on the ship. Lang might have been bluffing about his influence inside the walls of Freeport, but Catherine didn’t want to take any chances.

  There was much to do, but Catherine paused. She gazed across the surface of Zanzibar, a brown, windblown, barren wasteland, and waited. She wanted to greet Marcus and his team personally when they came back aboard.

  Chapter 29

  The Privateer Ship Andromeda

  City of Freeport, Equatorial Region

  The last two days ha
d been a flurry of activity for Cecil. The Andromeda had flown back to Freeport, and was in the process of being refueled, refitted, and resupplied for the journey ahead, as rapidly as port facilities would allow. He had a bad feeling that Lang would try to come for him, and wanted to get off of Zanzibar as quickly as possible. His sister said they needed to do the refits and take on the supplies, though, or they wouldn’t make the trip. Cecil had to wait, and he hated waiting. Worrying over Bianca had taken his mind off of things, though. He’d stayed by her side as she was wheeled into the med bay for treatment, and the ship’s flight surgeon had had to practically throw him out of the room to stop him from hovering.

  Bianca was resting quietly now, on a gurney in the medical bay. An IV fed fluids into her arm, and a tube supplied oxygen to her nose. The gunshot wound had been severe, given her slight frame, but it had missed her spine. Cecil thanked the God that he was no longer sure he didn’t believe in that she had survived the ordeal. She’d saved his life. This woman, a slave, a concubine assigned to him by a vicious warlord, had taken a bullet for Cecil Blackwood. Cecil Blackwood the drunk. Cecil Blackwood the womanizer. Cecil Blackwood the playboy.

  He sat in an uncomfortable folding chair next to her gurney, holding her hand, and was lost in thought. His little adventure on Zanzibar had cost much, not only in terms of money, but in lives. One of the mercenaries that had helped rescue him, Randall Markgraf, had been killed. Several others were wounded, though their wounds were not severe. Dozens of Aristotle Lang’s men had been killed, but Lang was still out there. Now, thanks to the unwilling efforts of Cecil and his employees, the old warlord had access to priceless alien artifacts with which to fund his army. Zanzibar would suffer even more, and it was all Cecil’s fault. He hung his head in shame. How can a man come back when he’d made such terrible mistakes?

  Cecil looked up at Bianca, who was still unconscious. Her breast rose and fell beneath the Mylar blanket as she breathed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he told her, even though she couldn’t hear. “Mistakes I can’t forget, can’t live down. But I can do some good, too. When we get home, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, love. You’ll have everything you could possibly desire. You’ll see the best doctors, eat the best food, live the best life. You’ll never want or fear again. I swear to you. I’ll . . . I’ll even quit drinking,” he promised, wondering if he’d be able to live up to it. “I’ll be a better man. For you.”

  Of all the women Cecil had wooed and bedded over the years, this Zanzibaran refugee was the only one that had ever loved him. All the others had wanted something from him—money, power, or access to both. But all she’d wanted was to be safe, and to be with him.

  She squeezed his hand weakly. “You really gon’ take care a’ me, Mista Ceecil?”

  Cecil leaned forward, clasping her hand in both of his. “Bianca! Yes, love. You don’t have to worry about anything now. I’m going to take care of you. I promise you.”

  Bianca managed a slight smile. “I love you, Mista Ceecil.” She then closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  “I . . . I love you too,” he said quietly.

  Cecil was startled when someone knocked on the hatch. Behind him was Felicity Lowlander, dressed in a green flight suit with her hair in a bun. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Blackwood, but the captain has requested that you join her in Astrogation. She wishes to debrief you before we lift off. Mr. Mesa and Ms. Kay are already there.”

  Cecil nodded. “Of . . . of course.” He stood up, still holding Bianca’s hand. “Will she be alright?”

  “She has a long road ahead of her, but time in freefall will take the strain off of her heart and help her recover. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Thank you, love,” he said. “Could someone show me the way?”

  A short while later, Cecil found himself in Astrogation. Catherine and the leader of the mercenary team were waiting for him. Zak and Anna were using a large holotank to present their findings and brief the ship’s crew on the alien artifacts.

  “Thank you for coming, Cecil,” Catherine said as he entered the room. “Please have a seat. Your employees were just filling us in on what they’d found, and their interaction with the Orlov refugees in Sanctuary.”

  “I’m afraid I was unaware of that last bit,” Cecil said, sitting down.

  “I’m sorry, Cecil,” Zak said. “I didn’t tell you for your own safety. If we got caught, we were dead. No sense getting you killed too.”

  “I appreciate that, mate,” Cecil said. “I suspected something was going on, you know, but I didn’t want to ask. Say . . . Mr. Winchester, right?”

  Marcus Winchester nodded. “The same.”

  “Thank you, sir. I owe you and your team my life. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Marcus nodded quietly. “Just doing what we were hired to do.”

  “Be that as it may,” Cecil said, “if Mr. Markgraf had any family, I’ll make sure they’re taken care of. I promise you that.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, but he didn’t have any family. His will stipulates that everything be left to a couple of different charities on New Austin.”

  Catherine sat down and crossed her legs. “Cecil, there are some things I need to ask you. Forgive me if I sound prying or suspicious, but I came a long way and endured a great deal of risk to find you.”

  “What did Father tell you?” Cecil asked.

  “He didn’t tell me about any alien artifacts. He said that you were off on Zanzibar on some kind of treasure hunt. I was told you’d chartered a ship and gallivanted off to the frontier, on what he described as a fool’s errand. He said he heard nothing from you for months, until he received the ransom demand from Aristotle Lang.”

  “Fool’s errand, eh?” Cecil shook his head in frustration. “It bloody well was. But Father is a fool, too, then. He knew what I was up to. He partially funded the expedition.”

  Catherine’s eyebrows shot up. “He did, did he?”

  “Indeed. He thought it was foolish, all right, but we were desperate.”

  “Cecil, just how desperate is the situation at home getting?”

  “Father has been all but marginalized on the Council. Aberdeen Province has lost its prestige and much of its power.”

  “So you came up with this scheme to go hunting for alien artifacts?”

  “Yes. And if not for Aristotle bloody Lang, it’d have worked beautifully, too. I had it all arranged. Once I secured the dig site, I was to send word home. Father would send Blackwood and Associates transport ships out to pick up the cargo, and we’d haul them back to Avalon.”

  “What?” Zak exclaimed. “That was your plan? You were going to loot Zanzibar?”

  “Yes, damn it!” Cecil snarled. “And why not? Look at this place, man! Those artifacts were lost to history before we came along. What did you think we were going to do with them?”

  “The Concordiat wouldn’t have approved of Avalon trading in stolen alien artifacts,” Catherine said coolly.

  “The bloody Concordiat doesn’t have a say in it,” Cecil said. “Avalon is not a signatory to that treaty, and there are plenty of independent systems willing to trade in xenoarchaeological artifacts. There are Concordiat worlds willing to deal in them, too. How do you think the ones that have been found end up in museums and laboratories?”

  “Okay, okay,” Catherine said, “calm down. I’m not accusing, I just want to know what’s going on. Cecil, if Aberdeen is in such hard times, surely even a large infusion of money wouldn’t turn things around?”

  “No, not by itself,” Cecil admitted. “Father and I had bigger plans. Avalon is withering away, slowly, by being so isolationist. Our trade with the Concordiat and others is limited. Our economy is stagnant. We’re hindered at every turn by protectionist trade laws. It’s time to start looking at unorthodox strategies. We were also discussing trying to make inroads into the Orlov Combine, maybe even normalizing relations with them. And Zanzibar . . . Cat, this planet is a hellh
ole, but it’s a practically uninhabited hellhole that’s rich in resources. Right now, its resources aren’t being tapped. If this all worked out the way we hoped, Zanzibar could have become a protectorate of Avalon, trading with the Orlov Combine and the Llewellyn Freehold alike. This place was once the crossroads of the frontier. It could have been again. Now? Well . . . I just want to get off this bloody rock.”

  Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose between a finger and thumb, the way she always did when she was frustrated. “Well, this is a fine thing. Why didn’t Father just tell me all this?”

  “He was probably afraid you wouldn’t help if he did. It was easier to blame it all on me, I suppose. It always was easier to blame it on me.”

  Catherine’s expression softened. Cecil had always been something of an embarrassment to the family, and everyone knew it. It was unfair, of course, one of the downsides to Avalon’s stodgy culture. He’d always been different, never quite the heir their father had wanted him to be. He’d had something to prove his entire life, and when he’d tried to prove it, it had all blown up in his face. “This does beg the question of what is to be done with the artifacts in my cargo hold.”

  “They’re not ours to take,” Zak protested.

  “Mr. Mesa,” Catherine said firmly, “I appreciate your passion for the matter, and I assure you, I’m no grave robber. But the fact of the matter is they’re in my possession and I need to figure out what to do with them. If I don’t sell them they’re extra mass I don’t need, and you and I both know what will happen to them if I leave them here.”

  “I’ll buy them from you!” Cecil said. “Or rather, Blackwood and Associates will.”

  Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure Father would approve?”

  “Father can piss off,” Cecil said. “I’m still the CEO of the company, assuming he hasn’t written me off for dead, and I still get to make the decisions. I’ll buy them from you.” Before Zak could say anything, Cecil turned to his partner. “No worries, Zak. I’ll arrange to sell them to legitimate scientific establishments, where they’ll be properly researched and documented and whatnot. If you still wish to be in my employ, you can supervise the whole thing, vet the potential buyers.”