Where the Ships Die

by William C. Dietz

  "Ari Gozen, Orr Enterprises staff implant 341, connect now."

  A thousand miles to the west, on a road south, Ari battled to keep her eyes open. She was tired, very tired, and should've been in bed. But weeks had passed, valuable weeks, during which she should have completed her assignment and headed home. But she had been sick instead. Not the sort of thing her employer was likely to forgive. The miserable bastard. So, why did she care for him anyway? And want him more than anything else? Perhaps it was a sickness equal to the one she'd survived.

  The car, which liked to drift, veered to the right. Ari struggled to correct it. The mental "pop" as her implant came to life after months of silence scared the hell out of her. She swerved and almost ran off the road. The "voice" was equally unexpected. "Ari... Carnaby Orr here ... how the hell are you?" Gravel flew as Ari flared to a stop. The skirts thumped as she cut power. She subvocalized. "Carnaby? Is that you?"

  "Of course it's me," her employer replied matter-of-factly, throwing his booted feet up onto his desk. "I thought I'd drop in and see how things are going. If you have what I'm looking for, I'll give you a bonus so big you can buy a piece of the company. We could be partners."

  Partners? The implication seemed obvious, or had she read something into his words "No, not yet anyway. Our subject disappeared, but I know where he is. Or was, anyway, assuming he survived."

  "Excellent," Orr replied cheerfully. "How can I help?"

  Reassured by her employer's high spirits, and cheered by the prospect of seeing him again, Ari considered his offer. Insects chased each other through her headlights and thumped against the windshield. "As a matter of fact, there is something you could do. There's a local company called Sharma Industries. Owned by a family of the same name. They run a salvage operation. I have reason to believe that the individual we're looking for is trapped in one of their camps."

  Orr took his feet off the desk in surprise. "Slave labor? You're kidding!"

  "It's a long story," Ari replied, "but suffice it to say that when his parents died, and the money stopped, our friend made some rather poor choices."

  "Good!" Orr said happily. "Very good. As long as he has what I'm after. Tell me what to do."

  "Contact the Sharmas," Ari said forcefully. "Buy the rights to the boy, meet me at their camp, and bring some muscle. I don't know what these people are like ... better safe than sorry."

  "How true," Orr said, remembering his wife, and the knife at his throat. "I’ll take care of it. And, Ari..."

  "Yes?"

  "I'm looking forward to seeing you. All of you, if you catch my drift."

  Ari thought about her emaciated body and wondered what he'd think of it. It occurred to her that a darkened room might be best. She allowed some very real excitement to color her voice. "Me too, Carnaby ... as soon as this is over."

  Orr smiled and broke the connection. He was more aroused than he could ever remember being—just from thinking of sex! A side benefit provided by the symbiote? What if he obtained a similar creature for Ari? They could live forever! And screw their brains out in the bargain. He laughed and went to work.

  It was dark beneath the sand, and Dee Dee felt something akin to pinpricks as sand ants cut minute chunks out of her skin, grasped them in tiny mandibles, and headed for home. But the darkness was bearable, as was the pain. What really bothered her was the uncertainty. How close were the security guards? Would the dogs find her scent? And what about Dorn? What if he died? It would be like losing her parents all over again. She wanted to cry but couldn't without giving herself away.

  The plastic tube had spent most of its existence in a coil and liked that shape. That being the case, the upper end of it curved downward and came within a quarter-inch of the surface. Tiny grains of sand were sucked through the tube and into Dee Dee's mouth each time she took a breath. It was annoying and potentially dangerous. She could adjust the tube, but what if the guards saw her? Still, what were the odds? Heavily in her favor, she assumed. Dee Dee flexed her fingers, and about was about to reach for the tube when the sand began to vibrate. Something heavy approached.

  Sand was packed in and around Dee Dee's ears but allowed some sound to get through. She heard the deep throaty rumble of an engine, a sort of thumping sound that might have been exoskeleton pods hitting the sand, and a voice too distorted to understand.

  Someone stepped onto the sand that covered her right ankle and sank till boot touched skin. There was more pressure than pain and her heart nearly beat its way out of her chest. She wanted to scream but bit her lip instead. Then, just when the girl thought she couldn't keep still any longer the pressure vanished and the guards moved on.

  Dee Dee forced herself to count to a thousand, raised her head, and confirmed that the search party had passed them by. It was a hundred yards down the beach tossing a pile of trash. Staying low so as to reduce the chance that she'd be silhouetted against the lights, Dee Dee rolled out of the depression, spat sand out of her mouth, and probed for Dougie. He came up spluttering. "Frigging dogs ... one of them peed on me!"

  "It beats the hell out of what else could have happened," Dee Dee replied unsympathetically. "Now move your butt... the tunnel should be clear by now."

  The tunnel was clear, and the youngsters wiggled through. Ahmad was waiting. "About time, you two... This guy is heavy. I barely pulled him through."

  Dee Dee, fearful that Dorn was dead, checked his breathing. It was shallow and came less frequently than it should have. She turned to the boys. "Ahmad, find Jana. Tell her to come. We need her muscle. Dougie, wake La-So. Tell him what happened. Hurry."

  Dougie paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "What the hell. But you owe me ..."

  The boy disappeared into the darkness before Dee Dee could reply. With them gone, and help on the way, she threw an arm across Dorn's back and whispered into his ear. "Dorn? Can you hear me? Please don't die. I couldn't stand it. Not twice. I'll do my chores without being asked, learn all of La-So' s prayers, and study real hard. I promise."

  Dorn groaned, and spat water. "And I won't let you forget," he croaked. "Where the hell are we?"

  "Down by the security fence," Dee Dee answered, her heart leaping with joy.

  "Which side?"

  "The land side."

  "Thank god. You're amazing, Dee Dee. Reach into my pants pocket."

  "Which side?"

  "The right, I think."

  The girl did as she was told, found a round metal ball, and pulled it out. "Is this what you want?"

  Dorn looked and saw light gleam off the data ball's mirrorlike surface. His eyelids felt heavy and he allowed them to close. "Yeah, keep it for me, and don't let anyone know you have it. Promise?"

  Dee Dee heard the sound of voices and recognized one as belonging to La-So. She had pockets, but lost things on a frequent basis. The voices grew louder. She popped the ball in her mouth and swallowed. "I promise."

  Dorn allowed himself to relax. ' 'Good. I knew I could count on you."

  Dee Dee bit her lip and allowed the tears to stream down her face. "You can count on me, Dorn. Always, always, always."

  Voices yelled, a siren whooped, and the hunt continued.

  21

  Beware of that which blossoms hide.

  Col.Valtrath Bin-lznar

  A Manual for Forced Landings

  Confederate Armed Forces

  Standard year 2346

  The Planet New Hope

  The Will of God made a picture-perfect landing in Oro's bay. Due to the never-ending plagues, and the fact that the Willie had no cargo to discharge, the harbor master ordered the vessel to take up moorage at buoy three. It was shaped like a cone and, judging from the stains, was home to at least one bird, which flapped away as a tug nudged the ship into position. Chief Engineer O'Tool tagged the float with a tractor beam.

  A tech lowered the Willie's umbilical to the tug, watched critically while the smaller vessel hauled it to the buoy, and delivered a thumbs-up when the con
nection was made. It cost less to buy shore power than to run the ship's reactor, an economy Jord was determined to capture. Plus, there were maintenance procedures that required them to power down.

  No sooner were those arrangements made than a veritable armada of water taxis, food scows, makeshift rafts, and other rickety craft headed out toward the ship, each loaded to the gunwales with sales beings, con artists, tax collectors, and other assorted riffraff. Captain Jord wasn't about to allow such unsavory individuals aboard his ship, and posted guards bow and stern.

  None of this was apparent to Marshals Rollo Drekno-Hypont III and Pilo-Horlon-Torx. They had been hard at work ever since the ship entered New Hope's system and, thanks to their diligence, had amassed an interesting set of facts.

  It seemed Dorn Voss had been expelled from school for nonpayment of tuition and had disappeared shortly thereafter. This was news that came as a shock to his sister, who blamed herself, and sank into a deep depression. Then the next message arrived, suggesting that the younger Voss was alive, and being held in a forced labor camp. This was information obtained by following Orr's agent rather than arresting her.

  Natalie, just released from her watch station, was overjoyed yet worried nonetheless. She made her case while the crew members released Rollo from his safety harness. "So, given what we know, I suggest we notify the police, go to this horrible place, and set my brother free."

  Rollo thanked the crew people and treated Natalie to what any member of his race would have recognized as an expression of pained bemusement. "Your anxiety and eagerness do you credit. Any being having parents capable of multiple bir-things would be fortunate to possess a sibling such as yourself. However, much as Torx and I might like to take the actions that you suggest, we are unable to do so. Not immediately, in any case. The Confederacy was built on compromises ... not the least of which concerned matters of jurisdiction. We believe your brother is a material witness to criminal activity. However, believing is one thing, and proving is another. We need proof to force the sort of tactics that you recommend."

  "So, my brother rots while you do nothing?" Natalie demanded angrily. "Not while I'm around!"

  "We beg to differ," Rollo replied reasonably. "I think you'll agree that Torx and I have been rather active up till now, and I can assure you that we have no intention of slacking off. In fact, if memory serves me correctly, it was we who summoned you, not the other way around. Next, it's our duty to notify you that the sort of unilateral action you mentioned will land you in jail. Questions?"

  Torx, who had been a bystander up till now, nodded his agreement and tapped a message into Rollo's side.

  Natalie scowled, started to say something really unpleasant, then thought better of it. "I'm sorry, Rollo. I know you and Torx are doing everything you can. I was out of line. The rules are frustrating, that's all. Is there anything I can do?"

  "Yes," the Dromo replied soberly, "there is. I prefer to swim ashore. Members of my species look quite absurd riding about in boats. Please open the cargo hatch and step out of my path."

  Natalie remained where she was. "Can I go with you?"

  "Do you know how to swim?"

  "Yes."

  "Excellent. Torx abhors contact with the water and prefers to be lowered onto my back. You can take his place."

  Natalie tried to imagine what it would be like to climb aboard the alien's back and dive three stories into a badly polluted bay. She didn't care for the images that came to mind, but couldn't refuse. Not if she wanted to go along. She forced a smile. "I'd be honored."

  It required no particular courage to open the hatch and ride Rollo to the door. The next part was scary, however. Especially when the marshal backed up until his hindquarters touched the bulkhead, charged across the hold, and launched himself into the air. The ancient war cry, delivered on the way down, was an obvious afterthought.

  Natalie saw a blur, felt air rush by her face, and gasped when they hit. The impact threw her into the water, and she started to sink, but fought her way to the surface. It required three attempts before she was able to reclaim her position on Rollo's back. Once aboard, she surveyed the damage.

  The marshal's belly flop, the most impressive such maneuver ever witnessed in Oro's harbor, had generated considerable chaos. Dozens of people had been soaked by the spray, a vegetable scow had overturned, and waves still rolled toward shore. Rollo, who fancied himself as something of an athlete, looked back over his shoulder. "Quite exhilarating, eh? Come, let's collect Torx, and be on our way. There's work to do."

  The Dromo turned, churned his way through a sea of still-bobbing vegetables, and approached the ship. It rose huge and black before them. Suddenly Natalie realized where she was and what she was doing—riding an alien law officer through the waters of a distant planet! It was the sort of adventure she'd imagined as a child, and though she knew she shouldn't be happy, not while her brother was missing, she was.

  The message arrived while Myra was scrubbing the kitchen floor. It came via one of the servant children, her hands still grubby from cleaning vegetables. The words tumbled from her mouth. "Myra! I have a message for you! From the camp!"

  Myra straightened, brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes, and took a quick look around. The kitchen was empty, or seemed to be, although experience had taught her that in a house filled with people, appearances could be and often were deceiving. "Softly, dear... the walls have ears."

  The little girl nodded and glanced around as if searching for wall-mounted ears. "Sorry ... I forgot."

  "The message?" Myra said gently, her heart beating a little bit faster. It was from Dorn. It had to be from Dorn. "A girl brought it. Her name is Dee Dee. She says Dorn was hurt... but feels better now. He's in trouble and the guards are searching for him. He wants to see you. Dee Dee will lead the way."

  Many thoughts chased each other through Myra's mind. She remembered Dorn telling her about Dee Dee, and the alien they lived with, so that part made sense. The fact that he was hurt was worrisome and gave rise to a variety of questions: How serious were his injuries? Who, if anyone, was caring for him? And what about their escape plan? Could he travel? And trouble ... what sort of trouble? There were various possibilities, none of them good, but Myra would have bet what little bit of metal she had that the Mary Voss played some sort of role in the trouble. Excitement danced in the little girl's eyes. "Will you go? Well, will you?"

  Myra was still on her knees. She took the child by both arms. "Maybe, I don't know. Now listen, Nadi, don't breathe a word of this to anyone, not to anyone. Not even your mother. Understand?"

  Nadi nodded solemnly. "Yes, Myra, I understand."

  "Good," Myra said gently. "I stashed a cookie in the usual place. Take it and get back to work. Fimbre will make his rounds soon."

  The little girl smiled, retrieved the cookie from behind a broken pot, and scurried out the door. Myra returned to scrubbing. The decision was easy. If Dorn wanted her, she would go. Even though it meant sacrificing a relatively privileged position and subjecting herself to danger. The only questions were how and when.

  Honley was a seaport approximately two hundred miles south of Oro. Though the smaller and less populated of the two cities, it was more than adequate for Carnaby Orr's needs. He watched the last of the toughs board via the main hatch and head for the lounge. Perhaps one in fifty had even seen a spaceship before. Mouths hung open and heads turned as they surveyed the metal-rich surroundings. They were a scurvy lot, and the very thought of allowing them to ride in the yacht's salon would have driven his wife crazy—assuming she could be any crazier than she already was.

  Anyway, who cared what the musclebound idiots did to the decor? So long as he took possession of the Mescalero Gap and the leverage that went with it. Orr's greatest fear was that he'd find Dorn Voss only to discover that the kid didn't have the faintest idea where the coordinates were. The industrialist strapped himself into his seat, ordered everyone else do likewise, and took the controls. Lawson, not look
ing forward to what would happen next, tried not to care.

  Repellors roared, steam flared, and the ship staggered into the air. Once aloft, the industrialist turned the yacht on its own axis, aimed her bow toward the open sea, and took her out. His repellors tore a fishing boat in half and he didn't even notice. The camp was less than an hour away by air and Orr was expected for dinner, a rather boring prospect but necessary nevertheless. The ship accelerated, pushing the passengers back into their seats. They tried to look tough. Some succeeded.

  Seleen had made a study of Myra and knew the servant girl was up to something the moment she appeared. The occasion was lunch. Myra was one of two servers, and she performed flawlessly. So well, in fact, that the very perfection of it drew Seleen's attention to the excitement in Myra's eyes and the energy around her. Something was up all right, and the something was Mr. Dorn Voss. Nothing else made sense.

  Seleen had listened while her father described the wreck master's murder to her mother. His narrative included the fact that the primary suspect was a worker named Dorn Voss. Her father had a low opinion of Castor, that was clear. But he was still concerned. There had been riots in the past, horrible riots, and a murder, successfully carried out, could trigger them again.

  Seleen nearly spoke then, nearly told her parents all she knew, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Yes, the information she provided would almost certainly get Dorn Voss out of trouble, or lessen it at least, but what then? He'd go free, the servant girl would win, and she would lose. A nearly unthinkable outcome.

  No, there had to be a better way, a means by which she could bond with Dorn, and use the relationship to reach the next level of intimacy. He wanted her the same way all men wanted her, was good-looking in a rough-and-ready sort of way, and theoretically rich. What more could any girl desire? Especially if the relationship took her away from this house, this peninsula, this entire planet. Myra appeared to Seleen's left and proffered a pitcher of ice-cold tea. "A refill, miss?"