Empire of Dust

by Jacey Bedford

  But he did know more. She was strong, resolute, kind, compassionate, but she didn’t put up with bullshit. She was talented and beautiful, but she wasn’t vain. She’d gone through some kind of mental hell, but she was fighting back and keeping her life together.

  He shrugged and turned away, trying to remind himself that she would have told him if she could.

  Get a grip, Benjamin. Showing his feelings wouldn’t help. His noble intentions struggled against testosterone levels that were off the scale. Maybe he could have damped down his emotions better if they’d been separate, but the sham marriage was a fragile link he didn’t want to break.

  “Unpack your gear. We’ll probably be so busy we won’t coincide much.” He dumped his bag on one bed, walked out, and left her to it.

  • • •

  “There’s another blow coming.” Cas Ritson broadcast a warning. It caught Cara in the fresher. She dragged a robe over her wet skin and padded out into the quarters she shared with Ben. As usual, he wasn’t there. She pulled her buddysuit on, then ran down the corridor and across the compound to the LV.

  While her body was going through the motions of hurrying from A to B, her mind was already busy. The Telepaths who were stationed at Landing immediately melded in gestalt. She locked in tight, and together they blasted out a sharp warning to all the Telepaths with the survey teams, wagon trains, and new settlements.

  So far the settlers in the areas that seemed to be a target for the sudden spring storms had established three new communities, equipped with safe cellars. They’d had three more violent storms, but none to equal the sudden squall that Cara and Ben had experienced at Cathedral Lake. Unfortunately, the weather could change without much warning. This time four separate wagon trains were making their way overland, exposed to the weather. Damn Lorient’s do-it-the-hard-way strategy. They could have ferried the settlers out in airbuses with no trouble at all.

  *Emergency! Storm alert!* Cara relayed the information to the Telepaths with the four endangered wagon trains. *It’s blowing in from the west. Seaboard Weather Station gives no more than ten minutes warning. Secure your stock and anchor anything you can tie down.*

  Then the gestalt split to take on individual contact. Cara kept a channel open for Ben, but also anchored herself to Bick Rhinager, a Navigator scout traveling with a fifty-vehicle wagon train across the southern plain.

  Working on two levels took up all her concentration. She stumbled her way to a chair in the ops room and flopped down in it, vaguely aware of Wenna securing all the hatches except the main entrance, waiting until the last possible moment before battening that down in case anyone was caught out in the open and needed shelter. In the distance, the hangar doors rumbled to a close with the mechanics safely inside. They weren’t in the main storm corridor, but they would still experience a good buffeting from the strong winds.

  *Hold the doors.* She diverted attention from Rhinager to the hangar door operator. *Ben’s flying in; he’s about two minutes away.*

  The doors rumbled open again, and she turned her attention back to the wagon train.

  *We’re totally in the open. I thought we were past the worst of the spring storm season.* She felt Rhinager’s fear pounding in her own chest. He was scared with good reason. *We’re unharnessing the animals and bringing them into a circle.*

  *How many Dee’ells have you got?*

  *Five. They’re already at work, trying to settle the beasts. There’s not even a hollow, so the wagons are all the protection we’ve got.*

  “Have you got contact with Rhinager’s train? Link me.” Ben came up beside her. Cara hadn’t even heard his flitter come in, but she was glad to see he was down safe. She glanced up. Outside, she could see the tops of the broccoli trees by the river beginning to sway with the first eddies of wind.

  She opened up and brought Ben into the link with Rhinager.

  *Can you strip the polytarps from the wagons?* Ben asked.

  *We’re working on it.*

  Cara stayed with Rhinager as his transmission patterns became erratic and coherent thoughts turned to raw emotion. She pushed away as much of the secondhand fear as she could, but it was hard to remain separate.

  She’s huddled beneath a wagon, facedown on the moist earth, with her arms folded about her head. The wind is howling, snatching at her ears and blowing her hair flat against her head. She can hear the shouts and screams of terrified settlers all around her rising in symphony with the wind and knows that the worst is yet to come. Then there’s darkness, turmoil, and terror. Her world turns upside down and the safe covering over her head disappears in an instant, whirling debris around her. Something strikes the side of her head, and she plummets into blackness.

  When she came to, she found herself on the smooth floor. Ben was down there with her, holding her as though she was in danger of blowing away herself.

  “The storm has eased.” Ben loosened his grip. “Are you all right now?”

  She nodded, not quite sure.

  “Rhinager must have taken a blow that knocked him out. You went, too. Can you patch back to him? Is he still there?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  She shook the storm out of her mind and searched for Rhinager. She found him, fuzzy, but conscious.

  *Are you with me, Bick?*

  *Yeah, but I’ve got a lump the size of a turkey egg on the side of my head. The wind just took the wagon. We got the canvas down, but it took it anyway. Shit. This place looks like a battle zone. Oh, hell . . . * There was a pause while Cara felt him staring round in disbelief. *We’ve got dead here for sure, and casualties, lots of ’em.*

  *Seaboard Weather Station has broadcast the all-clear,* Cas cut in.

  *Rhinager, medical emergency teams are mobilizing now. What’s your party’s status?* Ben asked through Cara’s link. Cara sat back and let him take over.

  *A lot of casualties, human and animal. There’s hardly a wagon left in one piece.*

  Cara opened up the link to give Ben access to anyone he needed.

  *Anna, how many emergency teams can you field?* Ben asked.

  *Ten; medics and paramedics are at the transport pad now. Ronan’s leading. I’m sending six nurses out, too.*

  *I’m on it.* Yan Gwenn cut in. *My pilots are warming up.*

  *How many more emergency teams required for the rest of you?* Ben used Cara’s link to broadcast to the whole colony.

  Most of the wagon trains had been outside the storm path altogether and the settlements, including Landing and Broccoliburg, had fared reasonably well.

  *We’ve got one family trapped under rubble in Treagar Township.* The message came in from one of the resident Telepaths.

  “Serafin, can you handle that?” Ben looked across to the engineer, who nodded. “Take one of Anna’s medics with you.”

  There was nothing else that the local medics couldn’t deal with.

  Given the advance warning, all the survey teams had been able to find shelter. Rhinager’s party was, by far, the worst affected.

  They divided the medical resources appropriately and launched four medevac flitters.

  “Let’s get on it.” Ben sent out all the available crews, and Cara caught Serafin’s order to get his Psi-Mechs airborne in case they were needed to shift debris.

  “We’ll need vets and Dee’ells, too,” Ben said and Cara relayed that to Lee Gardham.

  She ran across to the flitter bay three paces behind Ben and slid into the backseat of a four-man machine. Ben hit the seat next to her and Gupta took the helm with Bronsen in the copilot’s seat.

  *Three crews stay here on standby,* Ben ordered. *The rest with us. Wenna, stay home and coordinate reports. Keep me up to speed with what’s happening.*

  *You got it, Boss.*

  It took twenty-five minutes to reach the wagon train.

  “Shit, look at that.” Gupta voiced what they all felt at the sight of the devastation below.

  The wind had scattered the wreckage of fifty wagons
and three hundred lives all across the plain. Some survivors were obviously trying to help the injured, while others, dazed or hurt themselves, sat on the ground in small groups. A herd of horses and cattle milled and churned the ground.

  The medevac flitters were not far behind, the drone of drives and the whine of antigravs filling the air.

  Ronan and his team caught up with them on the edge of the debris field.

  “Triage.” Ben turned to Ronan. “Are you all right with this?”

  Ronan nodded, his face a couple of shades paler than normal and his mouth drawn in a tight line.

  “If you want backup . . .”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Cara wondered whether it was easier if you didn’t know the people whose bodies were damaged, some beyond repair. Was it more impartial, impersonal? She suspected for an Empath like Ronan, it was always personal.

  “Set up a triage point away from the wreckage.” Ronan turned to Aster, his med-tech. “Usual drill.”

  “Can I help?” Cara knew the routine by heart. Locate and move the injured who can safely be moved, flag the ones who can’t, and ask a medic to assess and stabilize. Deal with the ones who are savable; don’t waste resources on the ones who aren’t, until all the others have been attended to. She looked at the scene before her. There were going to be some lousy choices to be made.

  “Ben needs you,” Ronan said.

  Cara turned to follow Ben across the wreckage field and then turned back. “If it helps, Wenna said you made the right decision—last time.”

  “Thanks. It doesn’t help. The right decisions are often the hardest ones to make.”

  She gave him a tight nod and turned away.

  Chapter Twenty

  TRIAGE

  The veterinary team, led by Lee Gardham, was emerging from a flitter. The casualties, human and animal, would have the best treatment they could provide. Cara hoped it was good enough.

  Rhinager limped toward her. He held a stark white pad to a wound on his forehead.

  “I’m glad to see you’re still on your feet,” she said.

  “There are plenty of poor bastards who aren’t.”

  “Where’s your captain?”

  “I’ve not seen him. Injured, I think; maybe even dead. I don’t know.” He shrugged as if to say he couldn’t do much about the fate of one man. “We could use some help with the beasts.”

  Cara flashed a message to one of the crews that hadn’t been assigned yet and followed Rhinager to where animals were milling about, held in one area by five Dee’ells. They couldn’t completely pacify such a large number of animal minds, but they could plant a boundary and keep the beasts that had not fled during the storm all together in one place.

  Lee had recruited half a dozen able-bodied settlers to separate out the injured animals. She was already starting work and there was a sharp crack as another of the badly injured creatures was slaughtered. The stench of death was thick in the air.

  Horses and ponies milled in a tight circle and set off the oxen. A Shire snorted and backed into a Cleveland Bay; the beast turned and snapped, causing a chain reaction. One of the Dee’ells turned to calm the ruckus and, using all her concentration, was slower on her feet than she should have been. A riding horse reared, staggered backward, and went down in a flurry of hooves, taking the young Dee’ell with it.

  A scream knifed though Cara’s brain, and pain seared her chest, spine, and legs. She staggered and reached out to block the signals. The pain abated, resonating as aftershocks. As the dust cleared, the horse rolled and lurched to its feet and skittered off into the herd again, leaving a still body on the ground. Cara ran, arriving by the stricken girl as the four remaining Dee’ells gathered to push the animals to safe ground.

  Lewis Bronsen ran over from the opposite direction. “Fliss, are you all right? I felt . . . Oh . . .” He dropped to his knees beside the girl.

  At first Cara thought the young woman was dead, but her eyelids flickered and she groaned faintly.

  “It’s all right,” Cara said gently. “Fliss, is it?” She looked at Bronsen for confirmation of the name.

  He nodded. “Fliss Ruffalo.” He took the girl’s hand.

  “Lewis?”

  “I’m here. Where does it hurt?”

  “Nowhere.”

  That was a bad sign, Cara thought. One leg was twisted beneath her and her voice was weak, but the worst of it was the flashing red light on her suit cuff. Internal bleeding, probably crush injuries.

  “The doc is on his way.” Cara tried to sound reassuring. “We’ll take you to Landing and patch you up.”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t feel anything below my neck, and I don’t think I can move.”

  “Damn it to hell, I couldn’t get here fast enough,” Bronsen whispered.

  “It’s not your fault. No one can be everywhere at once.”

  “But it’s Fliss . . .” he said.

  Cara caught his emotion. “You two . . .”

  “Lewis?” Fliss sounded panicky.

  “Still here.”

  Ronan arrived with a paramedic and an antigrav gurney.

  He checked the Dee’ell over and looked at Cara and Bronsen, shaking his head slightly.

  Bronsen never moved from the girl’s side, but tears streamed down his cheeks.

  *We need an emergency cryo unit over here.* Ronan shot a message back to the medevac team.

  *We’ve already used the two we have.* Cara caught the answer from one of the pilots. *There’s another team on their way. ETA twenty minutes.*

  From the look on Ronan’s face it didn’t look as though the Dee’ell had twenty minutes. “Listen, sweetheart, I’ve got a cryo unit coming. Just hold on. I’m going to give you the preliminary shots so you’ll soon feel warm and sleepy. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re a bad liar, Doctor. I’m a Dee’ell, not a deadhead.”

  “It’ll be touch and go, but if you’re determined, you’ll make it. I’m not going to move you until we can get you a cryo unit.” He looked at Bronsen. “You’re staying with her?”

  Bronsen nodded.

  Cara felt Ronan connect with Fliss and reinforce the feeling of optimism. His eyes glazed over. Cara realized what he was doing and linked with him as he lost himself in Fliss, trying to stabilize the internal bleeding.

  *That’s better, Doctor. I like it much better when you’re on my side.*

  She hadn’t the strength to speak, but she could still use her telepathy.

  *Ronan. Enough,* Cara said as she felt him begin to weaken. She tapped him firmly on the shoulder and said it again out loud. “You’ve done all you can.”

  With a judder Ronan came back into himself. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” It was too easy for a Healer to pour so much energy into a patient that he dangerously weakened himself.

  Ronan administered two separate shots. “Go to sleep, now, Fliss.” He waited until she was asleep. “Someone stay with her until it’s over.”

  “I’ll stay,” Cara offered. She felt so helpless in the face of one more death. It was as if all the deaths were crystallized in this one.

  “No, I will,” Bronsen said. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Cara looked at Ronan, helpless. Bronsen was too emotionally invested to stay without support.

  “I’ll stay, too.” A settler woman Cara hadn’t even noticed spoke up from behind her. “Poor girl was trying to help us. It’s the least I can do. You people are needed elsewhere. Go. Save lives. It’s what you do.” She sat cross-legged across from Bronsen. As Cara rose to leave, she tapped her on the leg and nodded toward Bronsen. “Husband?” she asked quietly.

  “Might have been, eventually,” Cara said.

  Cara walked away with Ronan. “Isn’t there any chance at all?”

  Ronan shook his head. “If this was a one-off situation and if we had an available cryo unit right now, and if we could get her on the operating table with no further deterioration, she might live. We�
��re not equipped to deal with massed casualties. If she goes to the top of the list, she’ll take the place of others with more chance for complete recovery.” He was silent for three strides. “Triage stinks, doesn’t it?”

  Cara nodded. “Did you get it right?”

  “Yes,” Ronan said.

  “Sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then will you please stop avoiding Wenna? She doesn’t blame you for anything.”

  He took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Good. Now, what can I do?”

  “Help some of the walking wounded to the first aid area, then find yourself an emergency pack and start work; you can tie on a field dressing, can’t you?”

  Hours later Cara looked up from sealing a minor cut on the arm of an eight-year-old boy and saw that the work she could do was coming to an end.

  “What do you say to the lady, Norrie?” the boy’s mother prompted.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Norrie.”

  “We’re all really grateful for your help, Miss,” the woman said. “All your help. Might not have been much time to say so, but we are.”

  Cara nodded, almost too tired to smile. Numbly she went in search of Ben, who was talking to a hawk-faced middle-aged man. “Cara, this is Tellaman. He’s the head of the new settlement and, now the wagon train captain is dead, he’s in charge of the journey as well.”

  Cara looked at the settler for the first time. He held out his hand and she took it.

  “Mrs. Benjamin, we have two children unaccounted for.”

  “We need a Finder,” Ben said. “Where’s Bronsen?”

  *Not a good idea.* She flashed him a brief rundown of what had happened to Fliss and Bronsen’s reaction.

  “Sami Isaksten, then?” Ben asked.

  Cara took a deep breath and let her mind range out to look for Sami. She was part of Gen’s team, so that meant she’d drawn a trip to the coast for a few days. Somehow, having a direction to search in made it easier, and Sami popped into her head.