Bones of Empire

by William C. Dietz

  An effort had been made to check on each owner. But if one of the homes belonged to Demeni or her Rahaties, it was through someone else. So with no way to narrow the field, the police had no choice but to check each residence. An unpleasant chore for both them and the homeowners who were about to be traumatized.

  There was a gentle thump as the car landed, followed by terse orders from Umji. His troopers piled out as a thrumming noise was heard, and the rest of the air cars passed overhead on their way to various insertion points. “Okay,” Cato said, as his boots hit the ground. “The first house should be a hundred yards to the southwest. Stay alert and stick to the plan. Execute. Over.”

  Thanks to an effort to bridge Uman and Vord com systems, each member of the team could hear Cato, and vice versa, even though their HUDs weren’t linked. That would have required additional prep time. The troopers wore sculpted helmets, high collars that were designed to protect their Ya advisors, and clamshell-style body armor.

  Cato didn’t like the aliens, with the possible exception of Umji, but he couldn’t help but respect them as they fanned out and began to close with a largely unseen target. The intervals between the Vords were correct, they were relatively quiet given their size, and there was no unnecessary radio traffic.

  A security light could be glimpsed from time to time and seemed to switch on and off as the team advanced through a grove of trees. If the Sagathies were holed up in the house, and if they were asleep, there was a pretty good chance of catching them by surprise. Or, failing that, flushing them out. Which would open the fugitives to an attack from above.

  As the team ghosted its way forward, Cato saw little blobs of body heat scurry away via the night-vision capability built into his HUD and “felt” spikes of fear. But none of the animals were large enough to represent a threat.

  Then the fuzzy outline of a still-cooling house appeared. It was a two-story affair that had a peaked roof and a porch, which ran all the way around. Two ground cars were parked outside, and Umji made sure that both of them were secured before sending two troopers around to seal off the lakeside of the residence.

  Once that was accomplished, Cato raised a megaphone borrowed from the Vords. “This house is surrounded by police officers representing both the Vord occupying forces and the Uman Empire. Please exit through the front door with your hands on your heads. If you own this property, and are not harboring any criminals, you have nothing to fear.”

  It was necessary to repeat the message two times before a light came on in an upstairs window, the silhouette of a man was seen, and more lights appeared. Finally, after five minutes or so, the front door swung open, and two people emerged with hands on their heads. As soon as the couple were out on the porch, Shani led two troopers inside. Thanks to her ability to “feel” emotions, and thereby detect the presence of any sentients hidden within, the search went fairly quickly.

  Meanwhile, Cato was able to confirm that neither the middle-aged man nor his wife was a Sagathi and was soon hard at work trying to placate them. He was still at it when Shani and her Vord troopers left the house. “You can go back inside now,” Cato said soothingly. “But please don’t call anyone until 0700 hours. If you do, we’ll know and arrest you for interfering with a police investigation.”

  The man did what he could to look dignified in his pajamas. “If you insist . . . But please be aware that I intend to call police headquarters at seven o’clock and file a complaint with your supervisor.”

  “He’s on Corin,” Cato replied, “but go right ahead. In the meantime, lock all of your doors and call this number if anyone tries to break in. We can be here within a matter of minutes.”

  The homeowner accepted the slip of paper, looked as if he wanted to say something else, but apparently thought better of it as his wife pulled at his arm. She looked worried. Whether her concern stemmed from the presence of Vord troopers or the possibility that dangerous criminals might be lurking nearby wasn’t clear. “Come on, Jorn . . . Let’s go back inside.”

  “One down and four to go,” Cato commented, as the couple reentered their home. “Let’s move it.”

  Though separated, the houses weren’t far enough apart to justify use of the air car, so it circled above as the team jogged down the road and turned into the next driveway. Then it was time to repeat the procedure, except, having received no response from repeated requests to come out, the police officers were forced to break in.

  A Vord trooper kicked the front door down, and Cato went in with his submachine gun at the ready. It was his belief that officers should lead from the front. But more than that, Cato knew that if someone was hiding within, he might be able to detect them before they could attack. And even a second or two could make an important difference.

  But as the law officers searched the house, there were no emotional emanations to detect, and having come up empty, it was time to move on. A preprinted note was left on the door inviting the homeowners to contact the police regarding the forced entry, and, with the air car circling overhead, the team jogged toward the next house on the list.

  Even though light from the orbital reflector was focused on Kybor, some of the pale illumination washed over the surrounding countryside as well. So as a couple of Vords led the team down a long, gently turning driveway, the leaves around them were glazed with silvery light. The area had a ghostly look as Cato’s boots crunched on gravel, the air car hummed overhead, and the jungle shivered in response.

  Then something broke cover, dashed across the driveway, and vanished into the undergrowth. Having been caught by surprise, one of the Vords accidentally fired a round. Clearly embarrassed, he said, “Sorry, sir. . . . It was an animal of some sort.”

  If Verafti and Demeni had been asleep in the house ahead, they weren’t any longer. Cato swore, paused in the middle of the drive, and requested a slow-motion replay from his HUD. What he saw made his blood run cold. There had been two animals—both of which were native to Sagatha rather than Therat. “That was them, damn it! Umji . . . Order our air car to sweep the area to the east and stun anything larger than a dog. Then put in a call to units two, three, and four. I want them to position themselves to the east so as to block the possibility of escape in that direction. Over.”

  Having acknowledged the order, Umji went to work as Cato turned the team to the left and followed the fugitives into the jungle. It was slower going now, because of both the thick foliage and the very real possibility of an ambush. “Keep the formation tight,” Cato ordered. “Stay within twenty feet of each other. Officer Shani will walk drag.”

  Cato knew Shani wouldn’t like that, but it was critical to have an empath in the six slot, and a backup leader in case anything happened to him. Overlapping thrumming noises were heard, and beams of bright light slanted down through the jungle canopy to stab the ground ahead as the air cars crisscrossed the surrounding area. Given the infrared sensors aboard each aircraft, Cato expected to hear from one of the pilots fairly soon.

  But as the minutes continued to crawl past, and branches reached out to caress his helmet and shoulders, nothing happened. And that was strange because, mutable though they were, the Sagathies were flesh-and-blood creatures who couldn’t simply disappear. Their heat signatures would be visible no matter what shape they assumed. Then Shani’s voice came in over the command frequency. “Echo-Five to Echo-Six . . . I suggest that you switch to the feed from air two and count heads. Over.”

  Cato frowned, eyed his HUD, and gave a voice command. The moment he did, the number of people in line abreast of him increased from seven to nine, with the ninth icon bringing up the rear. And that was wrong because there were only seven people on his team!

  It seemed that Verafti and Demeni had taken up positions next to the team, and thanks to the thick vegetation, no one had seen them do it. And because the pilots were busy scanning the area ahead, they missed the additional blobs of green light and never thought to count. “Good work,” Cato said grimly. “Which flank? Right or
left? Over.”

  There was a brief pause as Shani played the external feed back looking for the moment when the extra blobs appeared. “Right flank,” she said definitively. “Over.”

  “Okay,” Cato said. “We don’t have time to brief the team. . . . I’ll wait for you to close the gap. Then, when you’re in position, we’ll pivot to the right and go after them. Stunners first . . . SMGs if we have to. Over.”

  Shani sent two clicks by way of an acknowledgment and was ready to break right, when one of the pilots spoke. “Echo-Ten to Echo-Six . . . A river is cutting across your line of advance. Do you plan to cross it? Over.”

  Cato swore as the two heat signatures on the far righthand side of the line surged forward and suddenly disappeared off of his HUD. “They jumped into the river!”

  But Shani was the only one who knew what Cato was talking about, and by the time the rest of the team came up to speed, it was too late. The river, which drained water out of Lake Boro, had carried Verafti and his mate to safety by that time. In spite of all the planning and hard work, the operation was a failure.

  Verafti didn’t like to swim. Few if any Sagathies did. But with the Umans and the Vords closing in from behind, the river was the only realistic way out. So he jumped, the cold water closed over his head, and the current took control of his body.

  Thanks to the fact that he was an empath, Verafti knew that Demeni shared his discomfort as she, too, was pulled downstream at a steady two or three miles per hour. He paddled in the direction of her emotions, felt them strengthen, and was soon floating next to her. “This river joins the Punja,” she said. “It’s larger and will carry us all the way to Kybor.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Verafti inquired as he struggled to keep his head up. “They’ll be looking for us there.”

  “There’s a Rahati temple in the middle of the river,” Demeni answered. “We’ll hide there.”

  “Okay,” Verafti agreed, as a large eddy turned them around. “But let’s watch for some sort of boat.”

  The Sagathies were forced to duck under the surface of the river as a bright beam of light hit the river behind them and quickly sped their way. Verafti had been to an aquarium on Corin and seen various sea creatures there. So he morphed into an appropriate shape but discovered that he still felt uncomfortable and hurried to change back.

  The air car had passed over by then, which allowed the pair to surface and take in big gulps of much-needed air. Ten minutes later, the current carried them through a sweeping curve, past a well-lit marker, and into the muddy Punja River. They were only twenty miles upstream from Kybor at that point, so there were lots of fishing boats, cargo vessels, and other small craft to pick from. Most were at anchor, but a few were under way, and visible thanks to their running lights.

  Verafti spotted what appeared to be a small fishing boat anchored downstream and took a moment to warn Demeni of his intentions before paddling to the right. That served to align him with the low-lying vessel. Fortunately, the Punja’s current was relatively slow, which made it possible to catch hold of the anchor rope and follow it to the boat. Demeni was right behind him.

  Because the sides of the fishing scow were so low, Verafti was able to pull himself aboard with very little effort. The additional weight caused the bow to dip. That was enough to awaken the two men who were wrapped in blankets and curled around the tiny stove in the stern. One of them sat up, saw the glistening river monster, and screamed. But only for a second, because Demeni was behind him, and a single swipe from her sicklelike claws was sufficient to cut his throat. Blood splattered onto sun-bleached wood, and the Uman’s mostly severed head nearly fell off as he collapsed in a heap.

  The second man was out from under his blanket by that time and scrabbling toward the port side in a desperate attempt to escape. But Verafti was there to jump onto his back and snap his spine well before the Uman reached the water. “Sorry about the fish smell, dearest,” Verafti said gallantly, as the Uman went limp. “But even this humble craft is better than swimming.”

  Ten minutes later, the heavily weighted fishermen were on the bottom of the river, and the anchor was back aboard. Though neither of the Sagathies was an expert where boats were concerned, the current was sufficient to propel them downstream, and all Verafti had to do was swing the tiller back and forth to steer. Demeni, who had taken on the appearance of the second fisherman, was seated in the bow, watching for the island to appear.

  A good fifteen minutes elapsed before Demeni spotted a navigational light and the temple beyond. It had been constructed by fisherfolk and occupied the entirety of the island it was resting on. Having visited the temple before, Demeni knew that the only way to access it was via a flight of steps that led up from the water. She pointed at them. “There! Bring the boat in next to the stairs.”

  Verafti turned the boat so that the bow was pointed in the correct direction but soon came to realize it would be necessary to turn the boat upstream and almost simultaneously put a line ashore if he was going to successfully come alongside the landing. And it was already too late to make all of the necessary moves. “Get ready to jump!” he shouted. “I won’t be able to stop.”

  Demeni gave him a dirty look, and he could “feel” her displeasure. But she gathered her strength, waited for the bow to draw even with the stairs, and made the necessary leap.

  There was a horrible grating sound as the side of the boat scraped against the rough stonework, and Verafti let go of the tiller and made his own jump as the scow continued downriver. Someone would intercept it and find all of the blood. But crimes were common on the river, so it would be a long time if ever before the Vords got around to investigating. “Wonderful,” Demeni said sarcastically, as the boat slipped away. “How will we get off this island?”

  “Someone will stop to worship you,” Verafti predicted calmly. “And when they do, we’ll eat them and take their boat.”

  It was a good plan, so Demeni led Verafti into the temple, where a dozen oil-fed lamps were burning. It was time. She could feel it. If he took her now, a new life would come into existence. And even though Verafti was something less than perfect, he was available and, above all else, committed to her. And that, Demeni concluded, would have to do.

  Verafti watched Demeni morph into her true form, inhaled the pheromones that were floating in the air, and knew what they meant. The fisherman dissolved, a Sagathi warrior appeared, and he began to circle the female he loved. What followed was violent, brief by Uman standards, and very satisfying. Breakfast arrived two hours later.

  FIFTEEN

  The city of Kybor, on the planet Therat

  THE FIERY ORANGE SUN HAD JUST BROKEN COMPANY with the eastern horizon, and a long, undulating call to prayer was echoing across the sleepy city as the Vord combat car screeched to a halt in front of the apartment building. Two police vehicles were parked out front. As Cato got out of the car and hurried toward the stairs, a uniformed Vord stepped forward to intercept him. But Umji and Quati were there to wave the other officer off as Cato pushed his way through the front door and took the stairs two at a time.

  The landing was splattered with blood, the shattered door hung askew, and when Cato entered the shabby living room, he was forced to walk through puddles of blood. It was sticky and pulled at his boots. His heart was in his throat as he looked around. Keen had been killed. He knew that much. But Alamy was alive! Sorrow mixed with joy as he called for her. “Alamy? It’s Jak.”

  Cato heard the quick patter of footsteps as Alamy emerged from the hallway. She was dressed in one of his shirts. It came down to just above her knees, and judging from the way her hair was slicked back, she had just emerged from the shower. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Oh, Jak,” Alamy said as she entered the circle of his arms. “You’re safe . . . I was so worried! I asked the police if you were all right, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me. Is Shani okay?”

  Cato pulled her close. She smelled of soap and fli
nched as his forearm touched the top of her shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “Shani’s fine. You’re the one we were worried about. Umji told us that a gang of assassins attacked the apartment—and you killed four or five of them. I’m sorry you had to do that but very thankful that you did.”

  “They k-k-killed Keen,” Alamy said, as she sobbed into Cato’s shoulder. “They shot him from the other side of the street! I heard a thump and went into the living room. He was lying over there, by the window, and told me to take his gun. He said they were all around us, then he died.”

  Cato held her close and kissed her hair until the sobs came less frequently, and she backed away. “Look at you,” she sniffed. “I got you all wet.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Cato said as he looked around. The walls were riddled with bullet holes, and empty shell casings were scattered around the floor. The fact that Alamy had been able to fight the assassins off was nothing short of a miracle. And a testament to her courage. “Who were they?” he inquired. “Have the police told you anything?”

  “A little bit,” Alamy answered hesitantly. “All of the dead men had Rahati tattoos.”

  “That seems to confirm what we already suspected,” Cato said thoughtfully. “Demeni has control of the cult and is using it for her own purposes.”

  Alamy nodded as Cato wrapped his arms around her.

  Shani had witnessed the entire interchange from the front doorway. And even though she was standing on the other side of the room, she could “feel” what Cato felt. She turned, passed through what was left of the front door, and made her way down onto the street. Shani wanted to cry but was determined not to and knew she wouldn’t if other people were around. So she put her cop face on and went looking for some breakfast. That, at least, was something the police officer could count on.