Bones of Empire

by William C. Dietz

  “Arrius?” Cato inquired. “As in Governor Arrius?”

  “The same,” the young woman responded gravely. “Governor Arrius is my father.”

  “We thought he was dead,” Cato replied. “That’s what the Vords told us.”

  “And they did their damnedest to kill me,” a male voice said. “But I’m a cantankerous old bastard, and they missed.”

  Cato turned to discover that a man dressed in military fatigues had emerged from an office. He had a thick shock of white hair, the same sky blue eyes that Olivia had, and two days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. “Milo Demby was my personal assistant for more than twenty years. He took three bullets for me and lies buried in my grave.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Cato said respectfully. “So, are you leading the resistance? The people who stage demonstrations?”

  “The people who commit suicide is more like it,” Arrius replied sadly. “They are very brave—but foolish. No, my daughter and I lead another group. Rather than complain about the Vords, we think it makes more sense to kill them.”

  “No offense,” Shani put in as she spoke for the first time. “But if the two people you sent to look for us are typical of your troops, you aren’t going to get very far.”

  Arrius shrugged. “Most of our volunteers have little or no experience at this sort of thing. Once the Vords announced your arrival, we sent the best we had. How did you find us anyway?”

  Cato fished a piece of cardboard out of his pocket and gave it over. “Your male operative was carrying this in his wallet.”

  Arrius looked at the business card. One of many that had been found in the office he was using. It read: ROSSI & SONS, 4311 ORBY ROAD, KYBOR SOUTH.

  The governor made a face. “You can see what I’m up against. Please follow me.”

  So the police officers followed, with Olivia Arrius and Bif bringing up the rear. Cato could tell that both the governor and his daughter felt suspicious as Arrius led them into a makeshift living area. It was furnished with rows of sloppily made beds, racks of weapons, and two folding tables. “Welcome to our kitchen, dormitory, and conference room,” Arrius said airily as he paused next to a circle of mismatched chairs. “Have a seat.”

  “Sorry, sire,” Cato said as he turned and slipped in behind the governor. “But it appears that there are issues of mutual trust that need to be resolved before we can have a chat. Please instruct your daughter, Bif, and the rest of your people to place their weapons on the floor and step back from them.”

  Arrius sighed. “It seems we’re outclassed. Olivia . . . Bif . . . the rest of you . . . Put your weapons down and step back.”

  Olivia obeyed, and, with obvious reluctance, the others did as well. “That’s better,” Cato said, as the freedom fighters glowered at him. “Now, let’s get everything out into the open. The Vords ran a story about us, so you wonder if we’re legit—or collaborators sent to help track you down.

  “The answer is that the Vords told the truth. Or at least part of it. We’re here at the behest of both governments, looking for a couple of criminals who represent a threat to sentients everywhere. That’s all I can tell you for the moment since the exact nature of the threat is classified.”

  “That makes for an interesting story,” Olivia Arrius said cynically, “but how do we know it’s true?”

  “Well, there is this,” Cato said as he flashed his badge, “plus the fact that Xeno cops aren’t all that common, so it’s unlikely that the Vords would be able to subvert any.”

  Arrius looked interested. “So you can read our thoughts?”

  “No, but we can sense your emotions,” Cato replied. “That’s why I have a gun to your head.”

  “Okay,” Arrius said, “I believe you.”

  “His daughter doesn’t,” Shani put in.

  “I’m starting to,” Olivia allowed cautiously.

  Cato “felt” Olivia’s growing acceptance of the situation and holstered his weapon.

  Shani did the same.

  “So,” Arrius said, once he was seated. “You can’t tell us the exact nature of your mission.”

  “No,” Cato agreed. “But I can tell you this . . . Other than arrest two criminals if we can—my team won’t be providing any assistance to the Vords. And there’s reason to hope that the Empire will send a task force to free Therat soon.”

  The resistance fighters listened with growing interest as Cato told them about Emperor Emor’s unexpected death, how his son Brunus had taken the throne, and the increased likelihood of war. “Finally!” Governor Arrius said jubilantly, as the account came to an end. “Emor left us hanging out here, damn him to hell. I know Brunus, and he’s just the kind of leader we need.

  “And,” Arrius continued, “that brings me back to the present situation. Help us, and we’ll help you. We know this planet the way only a native can. So if the people you’re looking for are hiding in Kybor, we’ll find them. Meanwhile, you can provide us with some much-needed military advice. Most of our militia were either captured or killed during the initial fighting.”

  Cato was tempted. And for good reason. Because a force of locals could be extremely useful in locating Fiss Verafti and/or his lover. Of course, they could be a problem as well. Especially given how clumsy they were. The last thing Cato wanted to do was to tip the shifters off to the team’s presence if they weren’t already aware of it. “Okay,” Cato responded cautiously. “It’s a deal, providing you and your people understand that there are certain aspects of our mission that we can’t reveal and that the Vords will not only continue to watch us but will show up on our doorstep from time to time.”

  “I’m glad you mentioned that,” Arrius said as he directed a meaningful glance to his daughter. “We wouldn’t want to have any misunderstandings.”

  And that was when the Vord air car landed out front. “We’ve got trouble!” one of the resistance fighters said as he looked up from a flat-panel monitor. “A carload of freaks just put down in the front yard.”

  “How many?” Cato demanded.

  “Four. Three of them are headed for the front door. The pilot is still at the controls.”

  Cato turned to Shani. “Invite them in,” he said grimly. “And don’t let them get a message out. I’ll take care of the pilot.”

  Nobody questioned the manner in which Cato had taken command, least of all Governor Arrius, who was up on his feet and headed for a rack of weapons. “We’ll have to move again,” he said grimly. “It looks like they spotted the place from orbit.”

  Shani thought the cab driver who had brought them to the warehouse was the likely culprit but didn’t say so as she led Olivia, Arrius, Bif, and another man out front. “Unlock the door,” she ordered, “and hide behind those crates. We’ll use pistols unless things get out of hand. Olivia, what we need are head shots. . . . Are you any good with that thing?”

  “Yes,” the other woman replied as she held her weapon in the approved two-handed grip. And because Shani could “feel” Olivia’s confidence, she believed it.

  “Good. I’ll take the two to the left—and you take the two to the right. And Bif, if we miss, then open up with the heavy artillery.”

  Shani could have said more, and wanted to say more, but there wasn’t enough time as a Vord tried the door handle, and the Umans hurried to take their places behind the cargo containers.

  A rectangle of sunlight invaded the warehouse as the door slid out of the way. The Vords weren’t stupid enough to rush in; but with no one there to greet them, they were forced to enter or leave. So they entered. The soldiers were tall and somewhat grotesque by Uman standards because of the Ya parasites wrapped around the back of their necks. All three wore body armor and carried the long-barreled assault rifles that were standard-issue for Vord ground troops. They moved cautiously, clearly unsure of what they might find, which was consistent with Shani’s theory regarding the cab driver.

  Then, as the enemy troopers committed themselves, Shani stepped out from b
ehind a large cargo module. As a police officer, she was expected to give a warning before she fired, but as a member of the 3rd Legion, she was under no such obligation. She chose the outside target first, firing two quick shots just to make sure, before swinging her weapon to the right.

  The first body was already hitting the duracrete floor by the time Olivia Arrius triggered her weapon. But her aim was good. Her first bullet entered the trooper’s left eye and blew the back of his head out. The second slug hit the Vord’s soft-skinned Ya and tore it open. Purplish green organs spilled out onto the floor as the dead bodies fell.

  Shani’s second target was falling by then, having been hit three times, as Olivia shifted her aim to the sole survivor. The sound of her shot blended with the report from Shani’s weapon as the Vord took two bullets fired within a fraction of a second of each other. The combination pulped the trooper’s face and threw him backward. His body skidded out onto the surface of the loading dock, where the pilot would be able to see it.

  Having exited via a back door, Cato made his way around the side of the building and out to the southwest corner of the warehouse. From there he had a clear view of the utilitarian air car, the pintle-mounted machine gun in back, and the Vord seated behind the controls. The engine was running, and the air shimmered as waves of heat came off the vehicle. It was located a good hundred feet away. Easy meat for a rifle but more difficult with a pistol, especially since the air car was hovering rather than grounded.

  Cato was faced with two choices. He could remain where he was, steady his weapon by holding it against the corner of the building, and hope to put a couple of slugs through the spot between the pilot’s bubble-shaped helmet and his body. Or he could charge the vehicle and close the range before the Vord could open a com link with his superiors.

  The police officer chose the second option. He ran like hell, covered fifty feet as quickly as he could, and came to a stop. Then, as the pilot spotted him and muffled gunshots were heard from the warehouse, Cato fired all nineteen rounds at his target. The idea was to make up for any lack of accuracy with overwhelming firepower. At least three bullets hit the front of the pilot’s helmet, shattered his visor, and smashed through his face. As he slumped backward, the air car lurched to one side, and sparks flew as it crashed to the ground.

  Cato looked up, felt a couple of blood-warm raindrops hit his face, and gave thanks for increased cloud cover. But there were other dangers to consider, not the least of which was the possibility of an automated report sent out by the vehicle as it hit the ground.

  So Cato reloaded his pistol, made his way forward, and put two bullets into the pilot’s Ya. Then, satisfied that the parasite wouldn’t have the opportunity to report on what its host had seen, he turned toward the warehouse. That location had clearly been compromised, and if the resistance fighters wanted to survive, they would have to leave in a hurry. Somehow, without intending to, Cato had acquired an army.

  THIRTEEN

  The city of Kybor, on the planet Therat

  WHAT LIGHT THERE WAS ORIGINATED FROM THE SOLAR reflector the Vords had placed in orbit around Therat. The satellite’s purpose was to focus the sun’s light on Kybor during the night, making it that much easier to patrol the streets and maintain order. Still, as the dark-haired woman paused in a shadow and removed her clothes, she knew it was very unlikely that the eyes in the sky would be on her. Not with so many other individuals to track. The cool night air caused her nipples to harden, sent goose bumps racing down her arms, and caused her to shiver.

  Even with the wan light beamed down from above, it was still mostly dark outside the botanical gardens. Even if Demeni couldn’t see what lay beyond the tall steel-mesh fence, she could smell the rich amalgam of odors associated with the parklike facility. That included the sweet, sometimes-cloying scent of exotic flowers, the thick, throat-clogging muskiness of tree pollen, and the rich odor of decay that reminded her of the planet Sagatha.

  Was that why he had chosen to meet her in the botanical gardens? she wondered. Because of the way the environment would remind her of home? And therefore of him? But who? Verafti? Yes, she thought, of all my suitors, he was the most ardent. And now, having sought me out, he intends to seduce me here in this delicious darkness. But is he worthy?

  Demeni remembered the terrified priestess and the carefully memorized message. “I would cross a thousand stars to be with her.” That was what he had said.

  Yes, Demeni thought to herself, he’s worthy. And with that, she launched herself at the fence. It rattled as Uman fingers and toes found purchase, and strong arms pulled her upward. Then, having swung herself over the top, Demeni dropped to the ground. Low-lying plants and soft loam absorbed most of the impact.

  Conscious of the fact that there could be others, enemies even, roaming the darkness beyond, Demeni paused to “listen.” Not so much with her ears as with that part of her mind that could “feel” what others felt. There were no clear emotions in the area. Just the staticlike buzz produced by the surrounding plants and the faint emanations associated with small animals searching for food. They radiated hunger, with an overlay of fear and occasional spikes of curiosity.

  Satisfied that she was momentarily safe, Demeni morphed into her true form. Then, with the surety of the jungle creature she was, she entered the maze of pathways, pools, and gardens that had so lovingly been laid out more than a hundred years earlier. The plantings were starting to suffer from neglect because the gardens had a very low priority where the Vords were concerned. But that was fine with Demeni, who preferred the chaotic growth.

  Being careful to move as quietly as possible, Demeni followed a path between a pair of flowering creep-creep trees and out onto a slightly arched footbridge. Luminescent fish were visible below, bodies flashing as they shot out of the water to intercept low-flying insects before splashing back into the water.

  From there the trail led past benches, the dark bulk of a slowly writhing snake-branch tree, and under a pergola hung with exotic air orchids. They looked deathly pale in the strange half-light projected from above.

  That was where Demeni paused to listen and sniff the night air. Many of same scents were available to her nostrils, but there was a new flavor to be sampled, and that was the coppery smell of blood. It caused the shape shifter to growl softly as her lips pulled back and away from her teeth. A fresh kill had been left for her. It was both a present and a statement about her suitor’s ability to provide for both her and their offspring. Should there be any.

  Demeni snarled approvingly and followed the path into an open area, where a gazebo stood at the center of a circle bordered by tall, spindly trees. The structure’s domed roof was supported by four columns. And there, hanging within, was a body.

  Demeni knew he was out in the darkness somewhere, watching and waiting. Because that was part of the age-old ritual that predated sentience itself. Her suitor had played his part, and now it was time for her to either break off the courtship or take it to the next level.

  With that in mind, Demeni went straight to the body. It was hanging head down and had been peeled, so that strips of clothes hung all around like the petals of an obscene flower. Most if not all of the night watchman’s blood had been drained out of his body to form a black pool on the ground. Demeni didn’t hesitate to step into it, grasp the corpse with both hands, and take a bite out of a meaty thigh.

  She was hungry, and the flesh tasted good; but there was another need as well. One that hadn’t been satisfied for a long time. The tacky blood pulled at Demeni’s feet as she backed away. That was where the symbolic hunt began. The pheromones were present, still suspended in the air, and they led the way. But other senses were required as well, including her capacity to “feel” what he felt.

  And suddenly there it was. A keen hunger, mixed with a strong yearning and a rising hopefulness. And because both Sagathies could “feel” each other’s emotions, Verafti knew that Demeni was not only near but searching for him. So it was anythin
g but a surprise as they came together in an open area.

  No words were spoken, nor was there a need for any, as the two shape shifters came together. What followed was a very satisfying battle in which Demeni resisted and Verafti took what he knew to be his. It had been a long time for both of them, and the moment of mutual release was not only shattering but made all the more intense by the fact that they could “feel” each other’s pleasure throughout.

  Finally, having exhausted themselves, it was time to return to the kill and eat the first of many meals together. The world and everything that lived on it was theirs to share.

  Cato was asleep in bed when the Vords came for him. There was a loud banging on the front door, followed by a heated exchange between Keen and whoever was outside, then a visit from Alamy. “Jak . . . Wake up! Umji’s outside, and he wants you to attend some sort of meeting.”

  Cato swore, rolled over, and put his feet on the floor. That was when he realized he was fully dressed, glanced at his watch, and realized that his “nap” should have been over three hours earlier. And somehow, in spite of the team’s best efforts to lose themselves in Kybor, the Vords knew exactly where they were.

  Cato groaned, got to his feet, and made his way into the living room. A quick peek through one of the windows confirmed his worst fears. A Vord combat car was parked on the street below. “Those stupid bastards!”

  Keen and Shani stood to either side of the front door, weapons in hand, as Cato came over to open it. “Did it ever occur to you that parking a combat car in front of our building would draw attention to us?” the police officer demanded. “Are you trying to get us killed?”