Bones of Empire

by William C. Dietz

  “Prior,” Umji said. “The coroner feels certain the bites and the subsequent blood loss were the cause of Parakar’s death because he was in good physical health and no other wounds were found.”

  “So that’s why you called us in,” Cato said thoughtfully. “He fits the profile, I’ll give you that. Are there large carnivores on Therat? The kind that could inflict such wounds?”

  “Not in close proximity to Kybor,” Umji answered. “We looked into that, and all such life-forms have been hunted to the edge of extinction in and around the city.”

  “So what was Parakar doing on the highway? Did they find his vehicle?”

  “There wasn’t any vehicle,” Umji answered. “Although it’s worth mentioning that when a passing motorist discovered the body, Parakar’s clothes were wet. As if he’d been swimming in the lake. And, if you look at his face and what remains of his chest, you’ll see injuries that might have been sustained before the fatal attack. A possibility that seems even more likely given the presence of what look like intentional burns.

  “As for what he was doing in the area, that’s hard to say,” Umji continued. “Parakar was employed as one of our civilian consultants. As such, his duties required a certain amount of travel.”

  “So, he was an informer.”

  Umji frowned. “If you insist.”

  “Who was he ratting on?”

  “Ratting on?”

  “Informing on. What group, or groups, was he assigned to watch?”

  Umji fished a hand comp out of a pocket and examined the screen. “A group called the Rahaties. They worship a goddess with three heads.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” Cato said gravely. “If our Sagathi friends are involved with the Rahaties, and they thought Parakar was ratting them out, they might torture him. That would account for the burn marks. Then, having confirmed their suspicions, they might very well rip his throat out Sagathi style and dump the body.”

  “That makes sense,” Umji agreed. “The next logical step is to view all of his reports. Maybe we’ll find something there.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Alamy put in as she spoke for the first time.

  “Sure,” Cato replied as he turned to look at her.

  Alamy had her lunch under control at that point but was careful to keep her eyes off the body. “This is pretty unlikely, I know that,” she said. “But the news nets have been running stories about the coroner’s murder for days now. A reporter stands accused of killing him because his image was captured by security cams located here in the morgue. But the last I heard, no one has been able to come up with a motive. Maybe he doesn’t have one.”

  The police officers stared at Alamy for a moment as both sought to understand what she was telling them. Cato was the first to respond. “You’re saying that someone who looked exactly like the reporter might have committed the murder.”

  Alamy nodded.

  “But why?” Umji wanted to know.

  “That’s a very good question,” Cato said. “And, if Alamy is correct, the answer could be right here somewhere.”

  At that point, the police officers went in search of some help, and Alamy followed them out into the hall. Cato hadn’t been surprised by the nature of her contribution, and that, insofar as Alamy was concerned, constituted a victory.

  FOURTEEN

  The city of Kybor, on the planet Therat

  THE LAST VESTIGES OF A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET WERE STILL visible on the western horizon, and the previously warm air had begun to cool, as Alamy and Keen made their way down the sidewalk. Street vendors were hauling their carts away, and shop owners were taking racks of goods inside for the night, but restaurants that had been closed since two in the afternoon were open for business again.

  Meanwhile, somewhere off in the distance the persistent pop, pop, pop of gunfire could be heard as members of a resistance group skirmished with Vord troops. Such clashes could be heard around the clock lately, and even though the Vords could bomb Kybor into dust if they chose to, they lacked enough troops to pacify it. A fact the rebels were clearly aware of. Meanwhile, most citizens, Alamy included, were alert to the possibility of trouble but sought to live as normally as they could. And with an armed policeman for an escort, she was reasonably safe from street thugs.

  “How ’bout this place?” Keen inquired, as they paused in front of a restaurant known for its spicy cuisine.

  “No, I’d rather not,” Alamy replied honestly. “The one time I ate there, my stomach was upset all night. How about Bratci’s? I know how much you like steak—and they have a menu any carnivore would love.”

  The Xeno cop brightened. Partly because he was carnivorous, but mostly because he had a tendency to interpret any sign of thoughtfulness on Alamy’s part as the beginning of a burgeoning romance even though he could “feel” her emotions and knew the interest wasn’t reciprocal. “Okay,” Keen agreed, “a steak sounds good.”

  So they continued down the street and around a corner to the point where a green awning extended out over some nicely set tables and the sidewalk. It was the same restaurant Cato had taken Alamy to the day before. Alamy felt guilty about going there with another man, especially one who was hopelessly in love with her, even though that was silly. Especially since Cato had yet to make a true commitment.

  Keen clearly saw it as a personal victory when they were seated out front even though they were early enough to get a good table regardless. That was when Alamy noticed the beggar on the other side of the street. He was dressed in raggedy clothes but looked too clean for his profession. And, more alarmingly, he was staring straight at her!

  “Val,” she said, “check the beggar on the other side of the street. Is he staring at us?”

  Keen, who was engrossed in the menu, glanced up. “Nope . . . He’s looking up the street right now.”

  Alamy checked, saw that Keen was correct, and concluded that life in Kybor was making her paranoid. The waiter arrived shortly thereafter, took their orders, and promised to bring drinks. When they arrived, Keen raised his beer in a mock toast. “To Centurion Cato, Section Leader Shani, and the jungle they’re spending the night in!”

  Alamy laughed politely. Cato and Shani had departed under the cover of darkness that morning for Lake Boro, where, if everything went according to plan, they were going to corner Verafti and Demeni. A prospect that terrified Alamy since she’d been witness to what Verafti could do back on Dantha and feared for Cato’s life. The fact that he was spending so much time with Shani didn’t please her either—since it was pretty clear that the police officer still hoped to get her hooks into Cato.

  The meal was good even if Alamy’s thoughts were mostly elsewhere. As they left the restaurant, she allowed Keen to take her arm, which pleased him greatly. Then, having just turned a corner, Alamy spotted the same beggar she’d seen earlier. “Look over there,” she said as she gave Keen a nudge. “That’s the man I saw earlier. I think he’s watching us.”

  “Of course he is,” Keen replied indulgently. “You’re very pretty—so men look at you all the time.”

  Alamy knew Keen was referring to himself, and the comment made her feel uncomfortable, so she let the matter drop. It was dark by then, but the occasional glow of a streetlight plus the added illumination provided by the orbital reflector, was enough to see by. There were still quite a few people on the street as Alamy and Keen entered the building and returned to their apartment.

  Keen, who was quite diligent about such things, double-locked the front door and checked each room to make sure everything was as it should be, before sitting down in front of the vid screen to watch the news. It was something that Cato insisted the team continue to do as a way to monitor the overall situation. The fact that the Vords were in control of all media had to be taken into account, of course, but there were still things to be learned. Especially where crime was concerned—murders in particular.

  With no meals to prepare, Alamy was free to take a tepid shower and go to bed in
the room she normally shared with Shani. Once there, she discovered that it was too hot to sleep and lay staring up at the ceiling. Half an hour passed, then an hour, and Alamy was still awake when she heard glass shatter, followed by a soft thump.

  Alamy was wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and panties, so she paused long enough to snatch her robe off the back of a chair before padding out into the living room. That was when she saw the broken window and Keen lying on the floor below it. A pool of blood was starting to form beneath him.

  Alamy started to rush forward, thought better of it, and stopped long enough to kill the lights. Keen had clearly been shot by a sniper located on the other side of the street somewhere. There were at least a hundred windows over there, and the gunman could have been firing from any one of them. Had the street beggar been part of a plan to target the team? That seemed very likely. Alamy dropped to the floor and crawled to the other side of the room on hands and knees. She paused to pull her robe off. Maybe she could use it as a pressure bandage. “Val? Can you hear me? It’s Alamy.”

  The answer was a rattling cough. “It hurts, Alamy. . . . It hurts really bad.”

  Alamy cradled Keen’s head. She was kneeling in his blood. “I’ll get my com . . . I’ll call for help.”

  Keen coughed, and more blood dribbled down his chin. “It’s too late,” he insisted. “Take my gun . . . I can ‘feel’ them closing in. Kill them, Alamy, kill all of them, or they will kill you.”

  Keen’s fingers found her arm, and it felt as if they were made of steel. The light in his eyes had already started to fade. “Alamy? Tell me . . . Was there a chance?”

  “Yes, of course there was a chance,” Alamy said softly. “You’re a very special man.”

  Keen’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “You’re lying—but thank you.” Then he was gone.

  Alamy wanted to sit and cry, but there wasn’t enough time for that as someone tried the front door. She felt for Keen’s pistol, found it, and wrestled the weapon free of the shoulder holster. She even had the presence of mind to take one of two extra magazines that dangled below the other arm. It was slippery with blood, and, with no pockets, Alamy stuck the clip into the waistband of her panties.

  Cato had shown Alamy how to fire a pistol more than once, so she knew about the need to release the safety and pump a round into the chamber. That was as far as her thoughts took her before someone hit the door hard. Wood splintered, but the barrier held long enough for Alamy to bring the handgun up. She was holding the weapon with both hands, the way Cato said she should, when the door flew open and banged against the wall.

  Alamy started to fire and kept firing, knowing that she wasn’t a very good shot, so it would be a good idea to throw as much lead at the intruder as possible. And Alamy’s strategy paid immediate dividends as the first assassin to enter the apartment took a slug in the chest and was thrown back against the man behind him. The second intruder stumbled and fired a burst of bullets into the ceiling before regaining his balance.

  But death was already on the way as Alamy continued to pull on the pistol’s trigger and the rhythmic bang, bang, bang it generated served to punctuate the momentary rattle of the automatic weapon. The second assassin jerked spastically as he took hits in the head, right shoulder, and arm. As he went down, Alamy’s pistol clicked empty, and she felt a searing pain cut across the top of her shoulders.

  The sniper! He or she was still out there. And firing a silenced weapon. Alamy dropped to the floor as another rifle bullet smacked into the wall to her right. Then, having scrabbled into Cato’s bedroom, Alamy paused to eject the empty magazine and replace it with the one taken from her waistband.

  She was scared at that point, but angry, too, and she surprised herself by yelling, “You want more? Come on, you bastards! Let’s get it on.”

  Alamy’s wish was granted as shots were fired somewhere above her, the skylight over the hallway shattered, and a man dropped through the hole. His feet made a loud thump as they hit the floor.

  Alamy, who was still sitting on the floor, shoved the gun around the corner and fired. The heavy slugs shattered the man’s ankles. He uttered a surprised grunt, crashed to the floor, and was curled up in the fetal position when Alamy shot him in the head.

  Then she was up and headed for the closet. Alamy knew that Cato kept a shotgun in there, and with only a few rounds left in the handgun, she was going to need another weapon.

  There were scuffling sounds out in the hall—as if more assassins had entered the apartment. Alamy gave thanks as her fingers closed around the shotgun’s barrel. She brought the weapon up, found the pistol-style grip, and thumbed the safety. Then, having aimed the shotgun at the back wall of the closet, she pulled the trigger.

  Alamy wasn’t ready for the heavy recoil and was thrown back against the half-opened door, but the result was everything she could have hoped for. The double-ought buckshot punched a fist-sized hole in the wall and hit targets in the hall. Two of them, judging from the noises they made.

  But the battle wasn’t over as Alamy backed her way out of the closet and two bullets came straight down from above. They missed her toes by an inch and buried themselves in the floor.

  Alamy tilted the shotgun up, pumped another shell into the chamber, and fired. Plaster showered down on her, but the blast had the desired effect in that she heard hurried footsteps up above and knew an assailant was on the run.

  That was when an air car glided past, bright lights strobed the apartment’s interior, and Vord troopers opened fire. They didn’t know who was shooting at whom and didn’t care. Their sole motivation was to bring the battle to an end, which they did with brutal efficiency. It took them the better part of ten minutes to secure the area, land the air car, and enter the apartment’s living room. That was where they found a half-naked Uman female sitting with her back against a wall. She was covered with blood, and the male on the floor next to her was clearly dead. “My name is CeCe Alamy,” she said, as her chin trembled. “And this man is an Imperial police officer named Valentine Keen. He died in the line of duty. Please treat him with the respect he deserves.”

  Near the city of Kybor, on the planet Therat

  The temporary command center was located just north of Lake Boro in an old hunting lodge. Dozens of beady-eyed trophies stared down at Cato, Shani, Umji, and five of his NCOs as the police officers bent to examine the map spread out on top of the massive dining table. “Parakar’s body was found right about here,” Cato said as he tapped a road with his right index finger. “And his clothes were wet. Yet he wasn’t dressed for a swim. And, given the burns on his body, there’s a very real possibility that he was tortured before being put to death.”

  “So,” Shani said as she picked up the narrative, “maybe he was on the run. Perhaps he was tortured, managed to escape from his captors, and jumped in the lake in order to get away. Then, having emerged on the west side, he made his way to the highway, where he was recaptured.”

  “Exactly,” Cato agreed. “So if our suspects have a hideout in the area, it could be located somewhere along the opposite shore. We’re going to put a cordon around the entire area before we knock on doors. No one is to enter or leave without being cleared by Officer Shani or me. Are there any comments or questions?”

  “Yes,” Umji put in. “Parakar was posing as a member of the Rahati cult and providing us with regular reports about that group’s activities. Now, having reread those documents, it seems clear that Demeni took control of the cult at some point prior to Verafti’s arrival. So as we enter the search area, we might have to deal with an unknown number of Uman fanatics as well as the shape shifters themselves. That could pose an additional danger.”

  Umji had come a long way since Cato and the rest of the team first met him. In fact, there were indications that Umji liked and respected the Umans to some extent, even if his Ya didn’t feel the same way. And Cato knew that the Vord noncoms standing around the table didn’t agree with Umji. The pos
sibility that they might have to contend with “fanatical” Umans fed the resentment they felt. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “Officer Umji makes a very good point,” Cato emphasized. “So pass the word to your subordinates.

  “Okay, I think that’s about it. Let’s load the air cars, go in, and secure the area. The ground sweep will begin at 0500 hours. Good hunting.”

  Six military-style air cars were waiting behind the lodge. Cato, Shani, and Umji boarded the first vehicle, which carried four troopers as well. Each unit was headed for a preassigned landing point, and the air cars took off in quick succession. The homes along the east side of the lake were separated by swathes of thick vegetation. Hundreds of troops would have been required to seal the area off completely. And given constant attacks by the Uman resistance movement, there simply weren’t enough Vords to do the job.

  But by blocking all of the roads in and out, and using the air cars to monitor the jungle from above, Cato hoped to flush the Sagathies out of hiding and run them down. Then, once the fugitives were spotted, air cars would swoop in to contain them as ground forces rushed into the area. The rest would be up to the shape shifters themselves. They could surrender or die. The second option was preferable insofar as Cato was concerned.

  The air cars were open to the elements, so as they rose to treetop level and sped south, Cato could feel the warm slipstream caressing his face. Like Shani, he was wearing a half helmet, body armor, and combat boots. In addition to his pistol, he was carrying a stunner, submachine gun, and a variety of grenades. And the Vords were heavily armed as well. But, if they were lucky enough to surround the Sagathies, would all of their weaponry be enough against such violent predators?

  The question continued to haunt the back of Cato’s mind as the aircraft slowed and all forward motion stopped. It was pitch-black below except for the moonlike glow projected by the solar reflector high above and a few isolated security lights mounted on the houses themselves. But Cato knew they were just east of Lake Boro and directly above the paved road that served the houses on that side of the lake.