Speed of Darkness

by Tracy Hickman

  CHAPTER 13

  MERDITH

  ARDO JUMPED BACKWARD AS THOUGH HIT BY AN electric shock. His head was pounding. “Melani! Please, stop! It’s me!” The woman screamed again, her eyes wide with fright.

  Ardo held his hands up, trying to will her to calm down. His eyes stung, filling with tears. His head throbbed, almost blinding him as well. “Please! I won’t hurt you. You’re confused . . . and . . . and hurt. It’s been so long, I . . .”

  “Get away from me, you bastard!” The woman’s teeth chattered as she struggled to control her fear. “Where the hell am I?”

  “You’re in the infirmary at . . . uh . . . at . . .” Ardo winced against the pain exploding in his skull. He was finding it hard to think. “At the Scenic Garrison . . . on Mar Sara. It’s a Confederacy outpost base . . .”

  She struggled against the restraining straps once more, rattling the framework of the wall-mounted cot. Cutter had done his job well. In a few moments, exhausted, she lay back panting.

  “Please, Melani.” Ardo blinked back tears. He struggled with the lock rings on his gloves, desperate to remove them, as he spoke. “If only you knew how much I’ve dreamed of this . . . how much I longed for you. I’ve seen your face a thousand times in the crowd . . .”

  She turned her face toward him, still blinking, struggling to remain conscious. “This is a Confederacy base?”

  “Yes!” Anguish in his face, Ardo stepped toward her. “Oh, Melani, if you only knew how sorry I am . . .”

  The woman yelled at him with all her strength. “Take one more step you sonofabitch and I’ll kill you!”

  Ardo stopped, frozen, unable to move forward or retreat. The thundering pain in his head overwhelmed him. He gave a single, choked cry and collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Memories washed and flooded across his mind. Golden fields. Golden hair. Screams and crimson blood.

  It was some time before he heard her voice, quietly talking to him.

  “Hey, soldier-boy, it’s all right. Relax, it’s gonna be fine.”

  Ardo looked up through the blur of his tears.

  “Just take it easy, okay? We’ll talk . . . just talk . . . all right? I’ll help you make it better. Deal?”

  Ardo nodded slowly. He was spent, sitting ignominiously in his battlesuit on the floor of the infirmary, his back propped against the desk.

  “That’s fine.” The woman’s voice was calm and deliberate, as though she were talking a suicide away from the edge of a cliff. “You just sit there and we’ll talk for a minute and get all this sorted out, okay?”

  Ardo nodded vaguely again.

  “My name is Merdith. What’s yours?”

  Ardo sucked in a ragged breath.

  “Look at me.”

  Ardo did not know if he had the strength. “Oh, Melani . . .”

  “Look at me,” Merdith said a little more forcefully.

  Ardo raised his eyes.

  “Look at me closely.” Merdith lay still, concentrating her dark eyes on Ardo’s face. “Look at my hair . . . look at it. Is that, uh, Melani’s hair?”

  Ardo struggled to concentrate.

  “Look at it . . . see it. Is that Melani’s hair?”

  The hair was different. It was obviously much darker, even without the dirt. Melani’s hair was so beautifully fine and . . .

  “My eyes,” Merdith ordered once more. “Are these Melani’s eyes?”

  Ardo shifted and gazed into the woman’s dark, almost black eyes. They were like deep pools in a cavern. Melani’s own eyes were such a brilliant blue . . .

  Ardo looked away. “No . . . those are not Melani’s eyes.”

  “Hello. My name is Merdith,” the woman tried quietly once more. “What’s yours?”

  “Ardo . . . Ardo Meln . . . Private Ardo Melnikov, ma’am.” Ardo still could not look at the woman on the bunk. “I’m . . . so very sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what happened to me. Please . . . accept my apologies.”

  “It’s all right, soldier, no harm done.” Merdith looked up at the ceiling, considering before she spoke. “You’re a resoc, aren’t you?”

  “Ma’am?” The throbbing in Ardo’s head had left for a moment but was making a definite comeback.

  “A resoc—neural resocialization—training through memory overlay, right?”

  “Yes . . . I guess that makes me a ‘re-sock’ or whatever you call it.” Ardo was suddenly very tired again. “Look, ma’am, I said I was sorry for what I did and I meant it. Now . . . well, maybe it’s just better we didn’t talk anymore.”

  He gathered up his battle gloves and pushed himself up from the floor. He still could not bring himself to look at her again. He moved back around to the other side of the desk, trying hard to be alone.

  But he was never alone, especially now. The ghosts in his mind continued to torment him. The thought of sitting down and waiting for Littlefield to come back was torment. He needed something else to think about, something else to occupy his mind than the black idle thoughts that were always a moment away from overwhelming him.

  The metal case sat before him.

  The treasure that had nearly gotten him killed—had killed others already.

  There was a puzzle to occupy his mind. The case had two handles on either side. What appeared to be the top was held down by six separate latching mechanisms. They were not locked—which seemed to Ardo to be reasonable enough invitation to open them.

  He reached forward and snapped open the first latch.

  “I, uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Ardo looked up. Merdith was still strapped to the bunk. She was speaking to Ardo, but her eyes were on the box.

  “Why not?” Ardo asked in a flat tone.

  “Well . . . you might not want to know what’s inside.”

  Ardo snorted, then snapped open a second latch.

  Merdith started visibly.

  “I’m serious, soldier-boy.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Ardo sighed, idly snapping open the third latch.

  Merdith’s voice rose slightly in pitch and urgency. “There’s an ancient earth legend about this woman named Pandora. You ever hear about that, soldier-boy?”

  “Yes,” Ardo answered irritably. He was having trouble with the fourth latch. It seemed to be stuck. “We’re not all bumpkins in the colonies, you know. I studied mythology in school.”

  Ardo grunted, and the fourth latch swung open.

  “Is that where you met her?” Merdith asked quickly. “Is that where you met Melani?”

  Ardo stopped. “What the hell are you talking about, lady?”

  “Melani, I’m asking about Melani.” Merdith licked her lips nervously. “I just . . . I just wanted to know where you met her, that’s all.”

  “Look, uh . . .”

  “Merdith. I’m Merdith.”

  “Yeah. Look, Merdith, that was a long time ago on a planet you probably never heard of and probably couldn’t care less about even if you had heard of it.” Ardo shook his head, looking for the next latch. “It just doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “What happened there?” Merdith pressed on. “What happened to Melani?”

  Sharp pain flashed behind Ardo’s right eye. He winced.

  “Tell me . . . tell me what happened to her.”

  He saw her behind him. The Zerg were pressing their attack with anger now. The Dropship was depriving them of their prize. Ardo was appalled at how quickly the large crowd had been sundered—harvested like blood-red wheat in the field. The Zerg were already nearly at Melani’s side.

  Ardo shuddered. “It doesn’t matter . . . You shouldn’t ask . . .”

  “I want to know,” she pressed him. “What do you remember, soldier-boy? What do you see in your mind?”

  They were already nearly at Melani’s side.

  Ardo clawed and fought. He screamed.

  Three Hydralisks grasped Melani at once, dragging her back from the edge of the crowd.

  “What do you see?”
>
  “Leave me alone!”

  “Please, Ardo!” she wept. “Don’t leave me alone!”

  The mindless mob pushed him farther into the ship.

  Merdith urged again. “Tell me!”

  “She’s dead, all right?” Ardo raged. “She’s dead! The Zerg attacked our settlement. The Confederacy came to evac us and I tried to save her and I failed, okay? I tried . . . I tried to get her into the Dropship but the crowd was between us . . . and I . . . and I couldn’t . . . I just couldn’t . . .”

  Ardo’s voice trailed off. To his surprise, he saw his own sadness mirrored in Merdith’s eyes.

  “Oh, soldier-boy,” she spoke quietly. “Is that what they told you? Is that what you believe?”

  The com channel chimed in his headpiece, the sound carrying into the room. Somewhere in Ardo’s mind he recognized it but could not bring himself to answer its call.

  “I’m so sorry for you, soldier-boy.”

  The com channel chimed once more. What was this woman trying to tell him?

  The com channel chimed a third time.

  “You gonna answer that?” Merdith asked.

  Ardo shook himself from his confused thoughts and toggled the com to Open Vox. “Melnikov here.”

  “Littlefield here. You all right up there, son?”

  Merdith continued to keep her eyes on Ardo. The Marine had become more than a little suspicious of the woman. He stepped back around the desk, and hopefully out of range for the woman to overhear the com channel.

  “Yes, sergeant, we’re just fine here.”

  “Are we, indeed? Well, I’ve found us a pair of very clean and very new Impaler C-14’s fresh out of storage for us both. I’ll be with you directly. What’s the condition of your prisoner?”

  “She’s talkative,” Ardo replied, drawing a wry smile from the woman.

  “Well, let’s hope she remains that way. The lieutenant wants both her and that box brought up to Operations as soon as I join you. I’m at the Command Center entrance now. Littlefield out.”

  Ardo toggled the com channel to Standby once more and quickly began closing the latches on the box.

  “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk again, soldier-boy.” Merdith’s words were silken. “I know something about Melani’s fate that you really should be told.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know anything about it.”

  “But I do.”

  “Like what?”

  “That it’s all a lie, soldier-boy. It’s all a lie.”

  CHAPTER 14

  DIMINISHING

  RETURNS

  “HEY, MELNIKOV! THE LIEUTENANT WANTS US UP at Operations on the—Melnikov, you all right?” Ardo had barely noticed Littlefield moving through the door. He was still staring at Merdith, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

  Littlefield mistook Ardo’s words as being meant for him. “I said the lieutenant wants us up at Operations. Lose something?”

  The sergeant tossed a new C-14 gauss rifle to Ardo. Feeling its weight in his hand was reassuring. Without thinking, Ardo checked the breach, noted the load count on the clip, and armed the weapon. It felt good to be doing something mindless.

  “How’s the woman?” The sergeant carefully set his own new weapon on top of the metal case, then walked quickly over to the bunk where Merdith remained bound. “Oh, I see you’re awake, ma’am. How are you feeling?”

  “Restrained,” Merdith answered flatly.

  Littlefield laughed to himself as he checked the dilation of her eyes. “Well, I see you haven’t lost any humor. Anything broken? Anything sprained?”

  “I’m portable,” Merdith responded.

  “Yeah, but I’ll bet you’re hard to move,” Littlefield chuckled as he leaned back. “All right, miss, I’m going to let you loose now. The lieutenant wants to have a few words with you. There’s nothing to worry about—we just pulled you out of a bad spot and this is just routine, you understand?”

  Merdith nodded.

  “So you aren’t going to give me any trouble, are you?”

  “And if I did?” Merdith sniffed.

  “Well, we both have very big guns, ma’am.”

  “That’s what they all say,” Merdith laughed in turn. “I won’t be any trouble, Sergeant, and I very much want to talk to your lieutenant. I’ll be polite.”

  “Now that’s what I like to hear,” Littlefield said pleasantly as he began undoing the restraining straps from the bunk. “I’m sure we’ll all be really good friends as soon as we get a few things cleared up. Isn’t that right, Melnikov?”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” Ardo responded automatically. Somewhere inside the depths of his brain he was not all that certain.

  Littlefield undid the nearest ankle strap last and then took a large step back.

  “Frightened?” Merdith said as she sat up.

  “Cautious, ma’am,” Littlefield replied as he reached back behind him and took his weapon. “Just cautious.”

  “How about your treasure chest over there?” Merdith’s voice seemed casual to Ardo in a very studied, dangerous sort of way. “Does it get to come with us?”

  “Why is that any concern of yours?” Littlefield’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve been baby-sitting that little crate for quite a while now. Let’s just say we’ve gotten to be quite attached to each other.” Merdith slid off the side of the bunk, carefully trying to stand. Her left foot bent over wrong, however, and she had to catch herself before she fell.

  “Hurt, ma’am?” Littlefield asked.

  “Just the pride.” Merdith lifted her foot to examine the ruined boot. She shook her head. “And these were my favorite pair, too. Well, as my mother used to say, ‘Make do or do without.’ You think you can find me some duct tape around here somewhere, Sarge?”

  “Duct tape?” Littlefield laughed. “Isn’t that a bit old-fashioned?”

  “Ask an engineer,” Merdith said as she limped toward the infirmary door. “You can fix anything with duct tape.”

  The Operations Room was situated at the very top of the Command Center. The Great Designer—whoever he was—had decided to make it into a large box with sloped armor and a ring of transsteel windows running around the entire room. An officer could see in all directions through those windows by walking along a raised platform that ringed the room on all four sides.

  The centerpiece of the Operations Room, however, was the command island, a raised circular platform situated in the center of the room. From here the central command staff could monitor activities not only through the windows beyond but at the various stations around the Operations Room.

  Command consoles were situated on the underside of the walkway platform as well as on the command island. These could monitor nearly every aspect of operations that a remote base of the Confederacy might be called upon to perform. They were rarely ever used all at once. They only had their transport covers removed when the demands of the base’s mission required them. It was said that one could get a good feel for what a base was tasked to accomplish just by knowing which consoles had been uncovered for use.

  As the lift platform brought Ardo, Merdith, and Littlefield up into the Operations Room, Ardo was struck by the number of consoles still secured under their transport covers. He had not been in Scenic long enough to get more than a limited look at the base—just the barracks, actually, before they set out on the morning mission. As he stepped off the lift with Littlefield, a quick glance around told him that there really wasn’t much more to the base than just the barracks. There was a factory console open with its machine shop console next to it as well. They could make basic things here, apparently, but not much more. A single supply station was uncovered, too. He was more interested in what was missing: those consoles that were still covered and never pressed into service. Armory, Engineering, and Starport support were all still sealed. More important, the refinery controls remained locked up, meaning that they had no means of producing their own gas to power any larger piece
s of equipment. All they could rely on would be whatever remained in the depot stores. At least there was one console he was just as glad was still secure: there apparently was no Academy here, either.

  Not much to work with, Ardo reflected. Why is this base even here? he wondered.

  Lieutenant Breanne stood hunched over the command table on the island. Cutter stood nearby, intent on Breanne’s instructions as she pointed at the surface display on the table.

  “The perimeter fencing extends only about three-quarters of the way around the base. It ends here . . . and here . . .”—Breanne pointed again at the display—“at the top of this cliff face. There’s about a thirty-foot drop straight down and then another twenty feet of loose dirt and rock to the base of the ravine. The face is sandstone—pretty slick stuff even for the Zerg. The ravine empties down into the Basin, most of which is a nuclear slag pile now. I don’t expect ’em from this direction, but I don’t exactly want to be surprised by them either.”

  “Lieutenant?” Littlefield spoke up.

  Breanne did not look up from the display as she spoke. “Yes, thank you, Sergeant. Cutter, get out to the perimeter. Have Xiang and Mellish give the defense towers a quick look to make sure they’re all operating, then set the watch as we discussed.”

  “At your will, Lieutenant,” Cutter replied with a stiff salute. He jumped down off the island, his heavy Firebat suit causing the floor plates to ring with the impact. His broad face flashed into a massive smile as he saw Merdith. “Well, Princess! Nice to see you with your eyes open!”

  “Flattered, I’m sure,” Merdith yawned.

  “Hey, you should be. Not every woman gets to be rescued by Fetu Koura-Abi!” The huge islander thumped the chestplate of his Firebat suit, then rumbled as suavely as he could muster. “No need to thank me now. I’m sure you can think of better ways to thank me later!”

  Merdith batted her eyes at him with exaggerated motion. “Gee, thanks for bringing me here, you big, strong Marine you!”

  The sarcasm was completely lost on Cutter. “Heehee. You find me later and I’ll take care of you better than ever.”