Dragon Lord's Hope

by Leslie Chase

  "Maybe he got another ship somewhere," Harry suggested. "I know it doesn't make much sense, there's nowhere else he ought to be going, but it's possible, right?"

  "Maybe." Gillian didn't think it was likely either, but she didn't have a better idea. Even if he'd died — and her heart sank every time she considered that — his body would have been found, surely? So he had to have gone somewhere. Maybe he'd left Olympus. Maybe he'd headed somewhere else instead of going to Olympus in the first place.

  It didn't help them track him down, though. Olympus was one of the bigger ports on Mars, and from there he could have gone anywhere. Even back to Earth, maybe: Olympus Colony had a spaceport. Tracking him through Olympus's port would be nearly impossible. Maybe if I go there myself?

  That was out of the question, though. She couldn't leave Harry in charge of the ice farm on his own. And while the crawler they had left would take her to Fuller, getting to Olympus would mean buying a berth on a skyship, and that took money they didn't have. Whatever they were going to do, they'd have to do it from home.

  "I guess it can't hurt to call around and see if anyone at the port saw dad get on another skyship," she said for want of a better idea. They'd already asked if anyone had seen him arrive, but just possibly someone had seen him leave instead. Harry grinned and started to look for a phone number. Then he stopped, looking at his computer screen. Tapping the screen, he shook his head and waved Gillian over.

  "Sis," he said slowly, frowning. "There's someone headed this way."

  Gillian cursed and pulled up the radar display on her own screen. The ice farm's air traffic radar was cheap and primitive, not really intended for much. It had hardly been needed until the skyships became common, and even now they didn't use it much.

  But it worked, apparently. There was a skyship heading in their direction, coming from Fuller.

  By the time the skyship had made it over the horizon and approached the farm, Gillian had time to get her panic under control. Just barely, though: the incoming ship wasn't talking, and that worried her. The Trevoir was registered to the Ardashev bank, though, and that was enough to calm her a little. Or at least to drive away the fear of some kind of pirate raid.

  Her grip on the shotgun didn't loosen, though. The idea that the bank would send goons to attack them was, on the one hand, ridiculous. On the other, it seemed all too real as the ship came in to dock and extended a pressurized connector to the landing pad airlock. They were far from any kind of law enforcement, and if something happened here she wasn't sure that anyone would even investigate.

  Don't borrow trouble, she told herself, looking at Harry. Her brother watched the airlock door with a fixed, angry glare, and no fear that she could see. Gillian didn't want to be the one to put it in his head. Anyway, killing us wouldn't do the bank much good, would it? The deed to the farm would get tangled up in inheritance. I think.

  Gillian wished that she'd been able to talk to a lawyer about this mess, but that would have cost money they didn't have. They probably should have had a lawyer look at their situation years ago, anyway, but there'd never seemed to be a pressing need. Each of the family owned a third of the farm, and that seemed simple enough.

  "Don't worry, sis," Harry told her. Gillian almost jumped out of her skin — lost in thought, she'd nearly forgotten he was there. "They won't take the farm away from us. You'll see. And if they're here to attack us, then Zardan will protect us, right?"

  She smiled at his angry optimism, not wanting to risk asking why he thought that. Better to take strength from his certainty than to find out just how blind it was. Before she could respond the airlock made a grinding sound and the doors started to open.

  It took longer than it should, just another system that was running down and needed more work than they'd been able to put into it. It had been years since anyone had used the landing pad or its airlock, after all. Eventually, the doors parted enough for Brooker Danforth to step through the gap, a forced and impatient smile on his face.

  "First thing we'll need to do is replace those doors," he said by way of greeting. "Those definitely aren't rated for these conditions, and it'll only get worse in winter."

  Gillian narrowed her eyes at his presumption, her hands tightening on the shotgun. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but the man she'd talked to turning up in person wasn't it. Trying to be polite, she relaxed her grip on the gun and put it aside, taking his offered hand. His grip was almost painfully tight, and he looked into her eyes as he squeezed. Gillian returned the favor, squeezing back hard, and had the satisfaction of seeing the surprise in his eyes when she didn't back down. Working on the farm had given her more muscles than some people expected.

  "It's not usually an issue since we don't get many visitors most winters," she said as they took their hands back. It took an effort not to show how much her hand stung, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "I'm not sure what you're doing here, in fact. It's a long way to come to be told 'no' in person."

  Danforth laughed, though there was no humor in it. "You can say no all you like, Miss Willis. Doesn't change the facts of the matter, or the law. We'll be foreclosing on you and taking possession of this farm and it would be better for us all if you were gone by the time we do that. I've come to make that process easier on you."

  Nodding to her, he turned to Harry. "Now, young man, I don't believe we've been introduced. My name is Brooker Danforth."

  Gillian could see the fury boiling in Harry's eyes, but her brother managed to keep a grip on his temper. "I'm Harry Willis. And you can fuck off."

  Well, he mostly kept a grip on it, anyway. Gillian was caught between admiring her brother's directness and being appalled at his impoliteness. In the end, it was Danforth's expression of distaste that pushed her into being more amused than not.

  "That's not quite how I'd have phrased it," she said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But my brother has a way with words sometimes."

  Danforth snorted and shook his head. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately, Miss Willis? I have a proposition to make."

  Raising an eyebrow, Gillian didn't budge. "I don't think that's necessary. My brother is as invested in the farm as I am, we each own a third of it. Any deal you want to make we'd have to discuss with him, anyway."

  Locking gazes with Danforth she stared him down until, eventually, he grimaced and nodded. "Fine. Where can we talk, then? And will your dragon friend be joining us?"

  "I don't think that's necessary," Gillian said. She'd asked Zardan to stay out of the way for this meeting. He can be a trump card if we need him, but I'd rather deal with this myself if I can. And if I can't, then he can step in and save the day — he'll love that. "Come into the office and you can say your piece before you—"

  "Before I fuck off?" Danforth surprised her by smiling as he interrupted. "Yes, yes, I get the picture by now. By all means, lead on."

  The ice farm's office had a small meeting area, one that had gone unused in the years since her father had set it up. Mostly they used it for storage, but there was a table with a computer interface, and more than enough space for the three of them to sit at.

  Sinking down into one of the chairs, Danforth put his briefcase on the table and clicked it open with a dramatic flourish. Gillian went cold as he swung it open to reveal not just paperwork but a pistol, too. It was a huge, brutish weapon, and she couldn't believe he was showing it off by accident.

  There's the stick, she thought. I wonder what the carrot is going to be?

  "As you know, this farm is going to revert to the ownership of the Ardashev Bank when the loan secured on it comes due," Danforth said. Pulling out a contract, he pushed it across the table. "Now, you've made a case that your father was intending to pay when he, ah, went missing a few days ago. That's not relevant to the facts of the case, but out of compassion for your situation, Miss Willis, I've decided to make you an offer for the farm ahead of the deadline."

  Gillian picked up the document, rea
d it quickly, and frowned. Danforth wasn't offering much, not compared to the value of a working ice farm and all the money her family had sunk into it. But it wasn't nothing, either. It would certainly beat being dumped in Olympus Colony or Marsport without a penny to their names, which is what she'd expected to happen if the bank took their property.

  On the other hand, there was no sign of compassion in Danforth's voice or expression. He was watching her like a shark, and he'd made sure to show them that he was armed. This wasn't done for their good, that much Gillian was certain of. What would this cold-blooded man gain out of offering her and Harry this money? She couldn't imagine that he was doing it to soothe his conscience. It was hard to believe he even had one.

  "Why pay us anything?" she asked, putting the paperwork back down. Harry folded his arms, glaring across the table at Danforth. "If you're right about the legalities of the situation, then you're just throwing away money."

  Danforth tapped the contract, finger resting on the amount he was offering. "It saves me the bother of a court case. I'd win it, I'm sure of that, but who wants to waste time and money on a lawyer? Just sign the paperwork, take the money, and we're all winners here."

  "If it was that clear-cut, you'd not give us anything. No lawyer would take our case if we've no chance of winning."

  He looked annoyed, as though he'd not been expecting any resistance. For a moment Gillian thought he was going to lose his temper, and she wondered what he'd do then. Danforth was a big man, and looked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Maybe she should have kept the shotgun handy.

  Zardan is in the next room, she thought. It was painful to admit that she was relying on him to save her if it came to violence, but he did make her feel safer.

  Thinking of the dragon shifter made her realize what Danforth was after. "You want the deed of sale so that it's all final before Zardan gets the Dragon Empire involved, don't you? Why do you care so much about this patch of ice?"

  Danforth's face gave away nothing apart from annoyance, but the look in his eyes let Gillian know she'd scored a hit. It was the dragons he was worried about, not the lawyers.

  "You don't need to care why I want to give you money," he said. "Just sign. Take the payoff and go. Or you'll get nothing, and still lose your farm."

  Gillian smiled with some difficulty. Whether or not it was the right thing to do, she knew then and there that she wasn't going to sell to Danforth or his bank. "You've wasted your trip, Mr. Danforth. Go home. We'll get you the money, I don't know how but we will — and if you try to foreclose on us before that, we'll see how much of a fuss I can make in the courts. Something tells me you don't want publicity, and I think some journalists will like the story."

  Danforth's answering smile held no humor whatsoever as he picked up the tablet and put it back in his case. Snapping it shut, he looked at her levelly.

  "This is a one-time deal, girl," he told her. "You won't get another chance at this. Once I've left, you're all out of chances."

  Harry answered for her. "We're not interested. Get out."

  His voice didn't shake even a little, and Gillian had never been prouder of her brother. He was afraid, she knew that, but here he was backing her up anyway.

  Danforth paused for a moment and then turned towards the door. "You want to be careful about who you talk to like that, kid. Accidents happen."

  "Are you threatening my brother?" The white-hot rage that flooded her at the idea was a surprise. Danforth's response didn't make things any better.

  "Take it however you like," the banker said. "Bad things happen to people who cross me, and you're way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. What would you do if there's a fire, god forbid? You ought to think about your family, especially now that your parents are both gone."

  He strode out of the room and back towards the airlock as though delivering threats like that was a perfectly normal part of his day. Gillian resisted the urge to throw her pen at the back of his head, though it wasn't easy. Hurting him will only make things worse, she repeated to herself as she got up to follow him out.

  The walk back to the airlock was icily silent, and Gillian was glad. Her temper was frayed enough that she didn't trust herself if he'd provoked her anymore. If she did anything to hurt him, she was sure that at best he'd use it against them in court. Or, worse, as an excuse to fight back — she didn't know who else he had on board that ship.

  10

  Zardan

  While Gillian met with Danforth, Zardan decided to do a little investigation of his own. The human had come a long way for a meeting that he could have had over the radio, and Zardan had to wonder why.

  Let the humans talk, he thought with a smile as he made his way to the docking bay. I'd be no good in there, and I doubt either of them will get anywhere, either. Gillian isn't selling, and Danforth isn't going to let her out of the trap he's got her in.

  Words wouldn't settle this. But perhaps actions would. There might be any number of clues on Danforth's skyship. Of course, he couldn't just walk in — the door was sure to be locked and watched. But that didn't mean he couldn't try a different approach. After days of careful exercise, Zardan felt the need for a challenge to stretch himself. He was well enough, now, to act.

  Slipping quietly into the vehicle bay, he pulled on his airmask and let himself out onto the Martian surface. The airlock opened in the opposite direction from the landing pad, and here he was out of sight of Danforth's skyship. A lot depended on how alert the crew of the Trevoir were. Zardan expected that they'd be watching the ice for anyone approaching. Let's see if the humans are paying attention to an enemy who can come from a direction they won't expect.

  He remembered the castles of Earth, a thousand years ago. Impregnable to armies, they meant nothing to a dragon who could fly over the walls. Humans, in his experience, tended to think in two dimensions rather than three.

  The thin air was freezing cold around him as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the vehicle bay. The biting cold made him shiver despite his dragon heart, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Taking a deep breath of the canned oxygen that filled his mask, he moved carefully across the structure towards the docking port, clambering up onto it. That would have been a lot easier if his wings worked, but the injuries were still too severe for him to risk flying. The very thought of using his wings was painful, and he couldn't even imagine how painful shifting would be. Let's hope there's no need to find out.

  A memory of Gillian's smile warmed him a little, and the hope that he could find something useful to her drove him forward across the icy metal. Keeping her face in his mind's eye reminded him of what he was fighting for, and made the cold feel a lot more bearable.

  The sun was cold and distant, and he could feel his muscles tensing as he pulled himself along. But up here, above the Trevoir, he was out of sight of the skyship's viewports. Anyone inside would have a hard time seeing him approach. Zardan crept closer to the ship and, looking over the edge of the dock, tried to see a way inside that might be unlocked and unobserved.

  This was as far as his plan went, and he cursed himself for not thinking further. From outside the skyship there wasn't much to see, and breaking in came with a lot more risk. Frowning, Zardan settled down to watch, hoping that he'd see something useful.

  He didn't have to wait long. As he watched, an airlock opened on the side of the ship and a figure dropped down onto the ice carrying a heavy-looking pack. He'd chosen his spot well, Zardan saw — that airlock was out of sight of any of the farm's windows.

  The wings on the intruder’s back made it obvious he wasn't human. Another dragon shifter, wearing a military airmaker mask from the Dragon Guard's armory. There weren't many of those on Mars, and they were precious. The oxygen the mask manufactured would let the wearer work in a vacuum for as long as he needed to. Zardan's own improvised mask was limited by the air canisters he carried, and they'd only last a few hours.

  Whoever it was had come prepared, and tha
t didn't bode well.

  Zardan ducked back before he could be seen and swore to himself. What in the Thousand Suns is a dragon doing aboard the human banker's ship? And why does he have an airmask like that? Those things were rare, and ought to all be in the hands of the Emperor's own guards. Was this an Imperial mission? Or was the dragon shifter a thief?

  From above, Zardan couldn't recognize him, so he had no idea which was the more likely option. But his instincts told him that the shifter was up to no good, and he remembered seeing Karaos at the Last Stop.

  Only one way to find out what he's up to, he told himself, cautiously looking over the edge of the dock again. The shifter was making his way around the main dome of the farm, keeping low and out of sight of the windows.

  Zardan swung down and dropped to the ground as the other shifter vanished around the curve of the dome. He wished that he could trust his wings, flying would make following the intruder so much easier, but he couldn't chance it.

  Fortunately, the thin air of Mars didn't carry the noise of his landing far, and the other dragon seemed oblivious as Zardan followed him. He made his way cautiously along the pipes leading to the air recycling tower beside the dome before setting down his pack and opening it.

  He did so with an exaggerated caution that put Zardan on edge, and he knew what the man was lifting out before he saw it. A bomb. A primitive, improvised one at that, with loose wires coiled around a lump of plastic explosive. Not at all the kind of thing the Dragon Guard would be using, but more likely human technology.

  Right now, it's low-tech nature didn't matter. Zardan was sure that it would be plenty to wreck the primitive atmosphere systems Gillian and her brother relied on to live. Zardan's blood boiled at the sight of it, and the coward planting it. This was no honorable way to fight — if the bomb killed anyone, it would be murder. Even if it wasn't fatal, it would definitely drive the humans off the farm and leave it open for the bank to reclaim.