Sands of the Solar Empire (The Belmont Saga)

by Ren Garcia

  “I have. Very nice lady.”

  “You … like her? I mean, I can get someone else for you if you want.”

  Stenstrom was puzzled. There was something fishy going on. “I like her just fine.”

  “Good, good. If you change your mind, let me know. Well, I’ve got to find the boatswain. Good meeting you.”

  “And you.”

  They shook hands again, and Lt. Dunkster continued on to the aft of the ship.

  * * * * *

  As the first few days rolled by, Stenstrom began to get the hang of the ship. He could move around fairly well through the tight metal interior, and he’d met most of the crew. Most seemed friendly enough in a silent sort of way, while others looked at his nice clothes and seemed a bit jealous—he was obviously a man of wealth, a man beyond them socially and financially.

  His duties as Paymaster were quite simple. Come payday, the money rolled in from the Fleet and dispersed to the crew—he just had to validate it and witness the computerized transactions. He was amazed how little they got paid. It didn’t seem fair.

  Every day, Kaly came down to his office after her watch ended and logged him into the ship’s lists—he not having clearance to access them on his own. They then would go through all the ship’s transactions, and he would validate them as OC: “Observed and Correct” and send them on.

  His newly won knowledge of forged documents and his experience in hiding money from his Mother instantly told him the transactions he was looking at were faked: “cooked,” “doctored”—call it whatever you will. Clearly Lt. Dunkster, the mate, and the boatswain were trying to hide money by moving it figuratively from one pocket or purse to another—it wasn’t much, just a few coins here and there, but it added up and was fairly clear to see, if one knew what to look for. Once he validated them, the documents were sent on to Fleet, where they piled up in a dusty database somewhere and were probably never looked at again.

  Kaly saw him puzzling over the documents. “Something wrong, Bel?” she asked.

  He thought about it a moment. “No, no.” He validated the documents and sent them on.

  Perhaps it was simply an error.

  As the days went on, the errors continued, always the neat little tricks, the missing coin or two here, and the extra money piled up there. It became obvious that there was more money floating around and exiting the ship than was coming in. Lt. Dunkster, the mate, and the boatswain were up to something shady. Some of the crew had to be in on it too—the dirty, mistrusting looks he got walking the corridors hadn’t abated; in fact, they’d gotten worse. He wondered sometimes when he headed to the chow line or the showers if he was going to get jumped.

  Let them try—they’d have a sore surprise coming. He could handle himself against this sorry lot any day.

  Kaly seemed to be his only friend. She tried at first to be aloof and standoffish, but her friendly nature won out every time. She chattered about her home on Onaris and her friends, and she peppered him with questions about his home and his house—”Twenty-nine sisters, wow!” Her tendency to give tongue to her random thoughts made her appear to be a scatter-brain, a real ditz; in truth, such was not the case—she had a good head in there, somewhere, but simply didn’t act like it. She appeared to be incapable of being anything other than herself, anything other than genuine. Her visits were the happiest parts of his day. He’d become genuinely fond of her.

  After two weeks, he decided to level with her. “Kaly, tomorrow, I’m going to go speak to Dunks.”

  “About what?” she asked, a little alarmed.

  “About whatever it is he’s doing here on the side.”

  She turned a little pale and didn’t try to deny it. Clearly she knew. “I don’t think you want to do that, Bel,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, I must. I’m bonded to be honest, to report what I see. I want to know what he’s doing—if he’s running illegal goods and pushing things that harm folks, I’m not going to put up with it.”

  She sat there and looked sad. Stenstrom headed for the door. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To the mess to get some dinner. I’ll bring you something back.”

  He went down to the crew’s mess and grabbed a tray, feeling eyes on him as he did so. He selected some chow and two cans of gasol and headed back to his cabin.

  He was in for quite a surprise when a got there.

  Kaly was in his bed, the covers pulled up to her bare arms and shoulders—her clothes scattered on the floor. Her voice changed from her normal perky one, to a more seductive, low-pitched drawl. “Why don’t you put down the tray, close the door, and come to bed.”

  “Kaly,” he said holding his tray, “what is this?”

  She smiled. “Just doing my job, and, like I said, you’re a lot better looking than the last Paymaster—I actually want to have sex with you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last few days. I was wondering when it would come to this.”

  She pulled the covers aside, and there she was, naked and steaming. A strong smell came out—she’d applied The Weed. It began to cloud his head.

  “Kaly—we needn’t do this. Please put your clothes on.”

  She looked a tad hurt. “Don’t you like me?”

  “I like you just fine.”

  “Then come to bed.”

  “I’m not going to come to bed, Kaly. I spoke to the captain the other day before we blasted off. I got the distinct feeling that sexing me is part of your duties—am I correct?”

  She sat up, staring at him hard with her lovely green eyes. “It is, though again, it is one duty I was looking forward to.”

  “Why are you to serve me in such a capacity? I’m certain such a thing isn’t a standard Fleet practice.”

  Her smile faded. “You’re on a frigate, Bel—we both are. We do what we have to do. And, I think I’m a little insulted. Sex is something we share on Onaris. To reject me is a huge slap. Do you think I’m beneath you, Lord Belmont? Is that what you think? Am I not good enough for a Great Lord like you?”

  “Don’t call me that, Kaly, and no, I don’t think such a thing. I consider you my friend.”

  “Friends have sex on Onaris all the time—no big deal. You really must think I’m ugly.”

  He sat down on the bed. She sat up and put her arms on his back. “I think nothing of the sort. I just don’t feel that having sex would be properly honoring you at this time.”

  “Bel,” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice, “do you know what could happen to me if we don’t do this—if you go to the captain?”

  “No. What? What could happen? I don’t understand.”

  She looked like she wanted to say something.

  “Go on, Kaly, you can tell me. You have my word as a Great Lord, I won’t tell or think ill of you, and the word of a Great Lord is something you can depend on.”

  He stood and got her the can of gasol that he’d brought for her from the mess. She took the can and tossed it back. “I’m supposed to have sex with you,” she said, swallowing. “We should have been having sex days ago—all the other fellows I’ve been assigned to took me right away. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep you keep you occupied. To keep you from asking questions.”

  “Why?”

  She finished her can and stifled a burp. “You’ve seen by now how little we make. To supplement our purses, we do a little extra on the side—it’s no big deal; all frigates do it.”

  “What extra on the side?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to say. It’s no big deal—but you’re not supposed to know about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not part of the crew, because you are bound and notarized to be truthful when questioned. And, in your case, because you’re a Great Lord. I don’t want to say anymore. It’s not a big deal, but if I can’t keep you in here, if you start snooping around, I’m going to get in serious trouble. I could just d
isappear, you know?”

  Stenstrom took her empty can and put it on the desk. “I certainly don’t want to get you in trouble, Kaly, but I can’t just let Dunks carry on. What if he’s pushing something that’s hurting people?”

  “I would never party myself to something like that, Bel—honest! Please, it’s nothing—nobody’s getting hurt. If he was hurting people, if he was pushing Maggs or Remax or something, I’d turn him in myself. Look, I know I talk a lot. I know I say out loud pretty much anything that rolls into my head, but usually everything I say is the truth, and what we’re doing here is harmless, small potatoes. We’re just trying to get by is all.”

  She stared at him. “And I was also hoping to share an open relationship with you. I’m not a whore—if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Of course not, though, the sex ploy seems to be lacking a tad in sophistication.”

  “Yeah?” she said, “it’s always worked before—we stick with what works on this ship.”

  “So, you can assure me that none are being harmed by whatever Dunks is doing?”

  “Yes, yes …”

  Stenstrom gave her hair a toss. “Fine then—I trust your word. Don’t worry about it. I won’t go snooping about.”

  “Especially on Wednesday nights.”

  “Fine then. On Wednesday nights I’ll just linger here, eat my dinner, and look at the Air Net.”

  “Am I still invited to share your evenings on Wednesday nights?”

  “Certainly—I was hoping you’d ask. We can talk, or hit the Net.”

  “Or, we can have sex. I really want to.” She put her hands on his face.

  “Perhaps another time. He stood up, got his tray, and began eating.

  He froze. In the mirror opposite the bed, he thought he saw a shadowy figure standing there. It reached out for him with clawed hands.

  He jumped back.

  “Bel?” what is it?” Kaly asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned to the mirror again and the figure was gone. Even in the middle of open space, his mother’s servants pursued. It was time to get out his gear.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “I need to unpack a few things. Would you like to help me?”

  “Oh, Bel, come on … Well, okay. You promise we’ll do it later, after I’ve helped you.”

  “Um, sure, sure.”

  Kaly sprang out of bed, and wrapped herself up in a sheet. Stenstrom pulled out his chest of books. She knelt down and looked at it.

  “What’s this one? It’s got a funny lock.”

  Stenstrom considered his words. “You’ve shared a secret with me, Kaly. Now I’ve got one to share with you.”

  “Yeah? A secret? Okay, what is it?”

  “You promise not to tell?”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m an … enthusiast in certain seldom-studied arts, Kaly. That chest is full of all my arcane learning and instrumentality.”

  Her eyes got wide. “You mean you’re a magician, or something like that?”

  “Yes, after a sort.”

  “Cooool!” she said. “Can I see?”

  “The chest is locked tight right?”

  She tried the lid. “Yep.”

  He reached out and put his hand against the lock and then pulled his hand back. “Try it now.”

  She did, and the lid opened easily. “How’d you do that? Is it a trick lock, or one of those neat palm-sprander locks on Bazz?”

  “No, it’s a real lock. No lock can deter me for long.”

  “Can you teach me that?”

  “Maybe later. Can you bring me the wooden box within, please?”

  Kaly, still wrapped up in the sheet, tentatively rummaged around in the chest. “You mean this one?” she said pulling out a brown wooden box.

  “That’s it. Bring it over here and open it, please.”

  Kaly brought it to the desk and carefully pulled the lid off. Inside was a silver device. It looked like a tall candlestick with a recessed pan at the top. She pulled it out of the box and stood it up on the desk. “What is it?”

  Stenstrom reached up, waved his hand, and placed a black Holystone in the pan at the top.

  Kaly gasped. “What’s that? How did you do that?” she asked.

  “It’s a Holystone. It shall alert me if demons should come near. If you’re going to be helping me, Kaly, you might as well know that creatures not of this world are after me, and might well tear my soul apart should they catch wind of where I am.”

  “Ok,” she said staring at the black Holystone.

  “Does that prospect disturb you?”

  She thought for a moment. “They’re coming for your soul, right?”

  “That’s right, yes.”

  “Just yours, not mine?”

  “Just mine.”

  “Nope. I’m fine. I’m good.”

  24 A Stain on His Soul

  Every three days, toward 18 bells, there’d be a knock on his door, and Kaly came in.

  They had become very good friends. Sometimes they’d watch the Air-net, other times she’d bring a game or two. Sometimes they’d just sit and talk—Kaly going on and on for hours about her life, her dreams—whatever came into her head. He didn’t mind; he liked listening to her stories. Eventually, Stenstrom’s inhibitions fell to the point where they started having sex, Kaly being remarkably casual with it. She was also completely uninhibited, willing to do or try anything.

  He lay there one night, Kaly wrapped around him. He began to wonder what was going on that he wasn’t supposed to see. He took a pink Holystone and put it in Kaly’s hand. She was already asleep, but the pinky would ensure she stayed out.

  He rose from bed, dressed, and prepared to creep out. He looked back—there was Kaly, quiet and peaceful. He came back and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then sneaked out. Using his training, he was remarkably stealthy. He could silently slip from shadow to shadow, blending in with the dark. Several people passed by as he roamed about, not one realizing he was there.

  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Given what Kaly had said, he assumed there was some improper or possibly illegal enterprise in progress on the Sandwich. For decency’s sake he could only hope it wasn’t something too outrageous, though she had promised him it wasn’t harmful. Moving silently, he eventually made his way to the hold. He had to be careful, as he could hear quite a few people talking within.

  When he thought the moment was right, he drifted in.

  Inside the hold, he saw Dunks, the boatswain Pike, and several other people tending a huge vat in the center of the hold. There was a heavy smell of chemicals and various herbs floating on the air. And, he saw a large apothecary full of all sorts of ingredients in shelved glass bottles and jars against the far wall. Normally, there was nothing but a blank wall in that area.

  It looked like they were brewing some sort of potion. He silently made his way into the hold and crept up on the pot Dunks was stirring. Within was a clear bubbling liquid that reeked of chemicals.

  “Keep stirrin’,” the boatswain said. “It has to be just right.”

  Dunks agreed. “No worries, pops. This is going to be a fine batch of sun tan lotion. Now—everybody out ‘cuz here’s where I use my secret technique to polish it up. Come on—out!”

  People set their things down and exited the hold.

  The boatswain Pike lingered. “I think I’ll hang about. You promised to give me your procedure, and I’ve waited long enough. I want it.”

  “You’ll get it when I’m good and ready to give it to you, not a moment sooner,” Dunks snapped. “Now, get out!”

  The boatswain turned in a huff and nearly plowed into Stenstrom. Alone in the hold, Dunks donned a breather mask and began adding components into the vat. The fumes that poured out were enough to incapacitate Stenstrom. Clinging to the shadows, he staggered out into the corridor, the fumes soon mixing with all the other bad smells on the ship, and they were lost. That was a near thing, for the mixture was foul a
nd nearly had him on the floor. He worked his way out of the hold unnoticed and back to his quarters. He undressed and climbed back into bed. Kaly, with the pinky in her hand, hadn’t even moved.

  * * * * *

  Two days later, Stenstrom still puzzled over what he’d seen in the hold. What exactly were they up to? He wasn’t naïve enough to believe they were making “sun tan lotion,” as Dunks called it. Perhaps it was a certain tincture, spirit or snake-oil remedy—though it smelled terrible, whatever it was.

  Feeling himself a little flushed, he went to the basin to splash water on his face.

  He looked into the mirror.

  Behind his reflection was a demonic landscape. Strange objects festered under old cobwebs.

  As he stared at the mirror, he saw four indistinct figures sitting in the distance.

  He heard a voice “Lone Rider… The Star that does not Fall. It man… You belong to us…”

  Hands reached for him.

  And he felt a ripping in his chest, a sundering of soul from flesh.

  His soul was being attacked. For the love of Creation—what had Mother set against him this time?

  Wheezing, holding his chest, his staggered out of his cabin and blundered into the corridor where he fell to the metal floor.

  A moment later, Kaly came by. “Bel!” she squeaked seeing him lying there.

  She knelt down and tried to pull him up. “Bel! Bel, what’s wrong?”

  He struggled to catch his breath. “Kaly … I’m in trouble …”

  She looked down at him. She seemed whole-heartedly disappointed. “You know, Bel—I’ve really come to look up to you. We were going at it hard having sex the other day and I thought—you know, I respect the heck out of this guy. And then I had a monster orgasm. I really thought you might be a different sort.”