Stars in the Sand

by Richard Tongue

   “What cargo are you carrying?”

   “Spices, herbs, that sort of thing. We took on a load at Hydra Station.”

   “Quite a way out,” he replied. “I hear there was some action out that way.”

   “We didn’t see anything,” Caine said. “Sounded like the best idea to stay where it was quieter.”

   “Not a bad plan. Have you got a buyer, yet?”

   Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “We’re operating on spec; I was thinking about doing a couple of repeats if I could turn a profit on the load.”

   “There is a problem with that,” he said, dropping the datapad to the desk. “You see, I can’t find anything confirming your purchase of the ship. No transfer of documents, which puts me in a rather difficult position. Technically, I should probably impound you.” He shook his head, then said,  “Given our latest round of budget cutbacks, it could take weeks to sort the paperwork out. I’m sure it is just an oversight, but even so…”

   Caine smiled, then said, “There’s no point just having our cargo sit there and go bad. Is there any way you could help us with a buyer?”

   “Perhaps, perhaps,” he said. “I’ll make a couple of calls for you. I’m a registered broker as well, of course. Had to be to get my skymaster certification. Naturally, if I’m working for you in an independent capacity, there will be a small fee.”

   “Worth it,” Marshall said. “If we can clear up this trouble.”

   “You know, I don’t see any need to waste the Proctor’s time on this, do you?” He placed a thumb-print on the screen. “We’ll just call this one authorized, and leave it at that.”

   “Thank you,” he said, taking the datapad back. “Anywhere good to visit on this planet?”

   “I’d stay in the domes if I was you. The hives outside are a good place to get yourself mugged, or worse. That’s where the indents and their brats hang out. Security’s a lot tighter in the Inner Cities.” He laughed, “Same as everywhere. There is a very boring museum, and a few decent clubs. I might be able to arrange something.”

   “That reminded me,” Caine said. “We were thinking of hiring a couple of indents.”

   “Usually more trouble than they are worth,” he replied, “but City Hall’s holding an auction day after tomorrow. You think you can pass the security requirements?”

   “Depends how much we have to pay,” Marshall said. “See if it is worth it with the upgrade costs.”

   “Well, your business, but even here there are better ways to spend some leave. I’ll get a shuttle up to offload your cargo, and let know you if I hear about a buyer.”

   “Thank you, Mr…”

   “Wilkins. Have a good day, Captain.”

   Managing a sigh of relief, Marshall walked out of the room with Caine, tucking his datapad tightly in his pocket. He’d expected to be extorted by the skymaster, but he had hardly dared hope that he would get value for his money like that. There was no way of knowing if it was his men that were to be auctioned off, but at least they had a lead now.

  Chapter 22

   Cooper felt awfully exposed, walking across the tarmac of the runway towards town; Cantrell was hanging slightly back, looking around and making mental notes of the layout, while he was paying more attention to the security guards. Frustratingly, they were lax, which meant that they would not be the ones they would be dealing with during the escape. Whoever was in charge here would send in their own special teams to stop them, rather than relying on this crowd. Large areas of the perimeter were left uncovered, blind spots in the patrol paths.

   Peering around a pile of boxes, he realized why the guards were so lackadaisical; a group of men were loading some small crates onto a truck, and none of them were wearing starport uniforms. There must be a lot of smuggling going on here, a thriving luxury goods market, and the managers would naturally be collecting their cut.

   “Hey, over there,” Cantrell said, gesturing at a coach over to one side, workers climbing on board. The vehicle had streaks of rust running down its side, most of the passenger windows were broken, and there were no attempts at pressurization.

   “Bet that’s going into the indent areas.”

   “Probably,” he replied, then nodded. “Let’s go.”

   They walked over to the coach, joining the back of the line. No-one asked for identification, and they slid a pair of low-denomination notes to the driver on demand, not once making eye contact. While their clothes were somewhat better than the rest of crowd, they still managed to blend in, careful not to speak in order to conceal their off-world accents.

   Cooper took the window seat, looking out at the bleak landscape as they slowly crawled down the road to the city. Overhead, a passenger helicopter flew past, curving away towards one of the domes, while they headed right for the hive of buildings surrounding the protected parts of the cities.

   At about the half-way point, they drove past a long, enclosed cemetery, plastic markers stabbed into the ground almost randomly. There must have been thousands of them scattered across the landscape, the final resting place of the workers. Cantrell looked over his shoulder at them, shaking her head, and then at the others. None of them looked well, their breathing apparatus old, worn, patched. Back home none of them would have passed safety certification, but Cooper had the distinct impression that these were all they could afford.

   The coach turned around a corner, heading into the city itself, and bumped across a pothole, throwing Cooper forward. The buildings looked in the same condition as the respirators, old and in poor condition. More than a few of them looked to have been cobbled together from mismatched pieces, improvised shelter from the hostile wilderness. A couple of low domes were present, small areas protected from the environment, their airlocks tightly sealed and guarded.

   Passing through the outer areas, they dragged into the business district, bars, pawn shops, hardware stores dominating. A betting shop on the left, a brothel on the right. A small gaggle of better-dressed people were walking down the streets, surrounded by security, obviously some of the wealthier classes slumming for the day.

   “Reminds me of Mars before independence,” Cooper whispered.

   Shaking her head, Cantrell replied, “It was never this bad, Cooper. Though it might have been, given a few more years of occupation.”

   The coach jerked to a stop, and Cooper peered forward; there was a crowd forming around one of the few buildings that didn’t appear to be falling apart, banners waving in the air in languages Cooper couldn’t recognize, shouting coming from respirator speakers. The driver shook his head, turned around, and said,

   “I’m getting out of here. If you want out, now’s the time.”

   Cooper and Cantrell needed no further encouragement, following the crowd from the coach as it slowly snaked out onto the street, Most of them seemed to be heading for alleys and side streets, disappearing into the shadows, but others were heading for the crowd, joining its swelling ranks. As they began to disembark, the driver grabbed Cooper by the arm, and said.

   “Look, I get you are an offworlder. Those respirators are screaming it. Don’t go looking for trouble, the Proctor’s cracking down on your types at the moment. Want some free advice? Head down to Luigi’s. He’ll rip you off but you’ll get a good time out of it. That mob out there?” he gestured, “That’ll just get you a ticket to detention.”

   “Thanks for the advice,” Cooper said, stepping down to the street. “What do you think?” he asked Cantrell.

   “I think we need to find out what is going on out there.”

   They pushed forward into the crowd, making sure to stay close to each other, and tried to find someone in charge. The first two attempts Cooper made at conversation resulted in a mouthful of unintelligible gibberish, but the third was more successful.

   “What you want?” a short-haired girl asked.

   “Just to know what’s happening?”<
br />
   “You don’t know?”

   Shaking his head, Cooper replied, “I’m from out of town.”

   “Hey, Miguel,” she yelled, “We’re a goddamn tourist attraction now!” Turning back to Cooper, she said, “Bastards have lowered the work quotas again. We’re not getting enough money now, look at this place! They’ve just dumped us here and left us to rot.”

   “The indentured…”

   “I’m not an indent!” she said. “My parents were, but I was born free. Not that it makes any difference. I was born out here in the Smoke, so no-one in the domes is going to give a damn about me, or lift a finger to help me.”

   There was a loud smash, and the sound of air escaping; Cooper and the girl turned to see one of the windows broken, part of the crowd cheering, others beginning to get out of the way. The girl’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

   “Damn. We’ve got to get the hell out of here, now!”

   “Why?”

   “You simple? Protests are one thing, but those morons just smashed up Company property.” She looked up, gesturing towards the horizon – a pair of helicopters were cutting through the air, heading towards them, “We’re going to be hip-deep in CorpSec any minute.”

   Cooper looked around, trying to spot Cantrell, “Did you see…”

   “All I can see is trouble. You want to get out of this, follow me.”

   She snaked away into the crowd, but Cooper turned, trying to spot his comrade in the gathering throng. They were down to the hard core now, maybe seventy or eighty, singing some sort of protest song in Spanish. He pushed in, trying to work his way through, hoping to spot Cantrell; part of him suspected she might have got away already, but he couldn’t take the chance.

   Then he spotted her, caught in the heart of the crowd, unable to get through. He turned, and saw the helicopters running down the street, then paused in shock for a second as the familiar rattle of machine guns sounded, tearing at the concrete, a pair of protesters caught in the fire thrown to the ground, blood splattering onto the street.

   The once-stalwart crowd broke into raw panic, dissolving to its constituent members as they raced for safety, for cover, to try and get as far from the aerial death as they could. Cooper was caught in the tide of chaos, desperately trying not to be jostled to the concrete, fighting his way towards Cantrell. Overhead, the helicopters span around for another pass, and another wave of shots ripped towards the street, killing or maiming everything in their path.

   At last, Cooper managed to grab Cantrell, pulling her away, saying, “This close enough?”

   “I think so. Let’s get out of here.”

   A low rumbling came from the road, and a pair of heavy, tracked ATVs rolled around a corner as the helicopters, their work done, resumed their patrol position. From the other side, another one came, pinning the survivors of the crowd between them.

   “Great, we’re cut off,” Cantrell said.

   Roaring from the lead vehicle, a voice boomed, “This is CorpSec. All workers are to remain where they are for processing. Move and you will be killed.”

   Cooper shook his head, “If they pick us up, the whole game is over.”

   “Only one thing to do, then,” Cantrell said. “Run!”

   She sprinted out of the dumbfounded crowd, zigzagging to avoid the expected hail of machine gun fire. Cursing under his breath, Cooper chased after her, running for the theoretical safety of the buildings. He thought for a second of heading in a different direction, but beyond the main highway, this place was a maze. The odds were that if they split up once, they would never find each other again.

   Bullets cracked through the air, and security guards wearing gray uniforms, respirators built into their helmets, began to chase after them, eager to take them down. They reached the alley and continued to sprint, desperately racing for safety, but here they couldn’t take any evasive action; as soon as the guards reached the end of the alley and aimed their guns, they were dead unless they could find another option.

   Passing dead-end after dead-end, they finally came to the end of the lane, finding the way blocked by a high wall, part of one of the few domes in this end of town. If they had been carrying explosives, they might have been able to rip through it, but their bare hands were not going to be suitable for the task. Unarmed, they turned, glanced at each other, then began to raise their hands.

   From underneath, Cooper heard a whispering voice, “In here. Quick, before they see you!”

   A hatch had opened in the ground, concealed underneath some bags of garbage, and a hand was beckoning them in. There was no time for thought, for anything other than instant action, and he dived head-first into the hole, Cantrell hard on his heels. The hatch slid shut just as the guards arrived, a hail of bullets raining on the cover.

   Sliding a bolt home, the girl from before said, “Quick. It won’t take them long to get that open.”

   Needing no further urging, Cooper raced down through the tunnels, all in a worse state of repair than the buildings above, a thin trickle of what seemed to be raw sewerage meandering along the ground. Shouts echoed behind them, but as they turned around one corner after another, they finally found themselves getting away from them, and the pursuing voices faded away into nothing.  Panting for breath, Cooper stopped, peering back into the gloom.

   “Thank you,” he said. “I can’t believe they just gave up.”

   The girl shrugged, and said, “Plenty of bodies upstairs they can pin this one on if they want. Someone will find out that their nearest and dearest was killed resisting arrest, rather than being killed at an illegal assembly. Doesn’t make any difference in the end. Dead is dead.”

   “Where are we?” Cantrell asked.

   “Old shelter system. Runs for miles underneath the town, used to connect all the domes. They abandoned it years ago, but lots of us use it. For all sorts of things.” Putting her hands on her hips, she said, “Now what are two outworlders doing at a rally?”

   “We were curious,” Cantrell began, only to be interrupted with a braying laugh from the girl.

   “Fine, you don’t want to tell me, you don’t want to tell me. None of my business anyway, I just risked my neck to save your sorry lives.”

   “For all we know, you work for CorpSec, and this was all a trick,” Cooper said.

   Shrugging, she said, “I might at that. Especially if the bounty is good enough. Keep that cynicism of yours; down here it’s a survival trait.”

   “How can we get out of here?”

   “Keep wandering for a while and you’ll get to a hatch. We’re going separate ways now, and you’re going to stand here and count to a hundred before you move, or I’ll be forced to...take action.”

   She waved her cloak, revealing a pair of pistols under her belt. Cooper and Cantrell glanced at each other, and he could tell that she was calculating the chances that she might be able to jump her. Forestalling that, Cooper took a step forward.

   “Look, there must be something we can do for you. How would you like to get off this rock?”

   Cantrell looked daggers at her, and the girl replied, “Who wouldn’t like to get out of here?”

   “What if I told you I could get you a job on a freighter?”

   She shook her head, and said, “Don’t have any papers.”

   “That makes it harder, but you have something we need.” He gestured at her belt, and said, “Those pistols. We’ve got a shuttle at the starport that will be going up to our ship. You can wait up there and sail when we do. Either we can put you off at the next port, Sinbad Outpost maybe, or you can sign on as part of the crew. Your call.”

   “You want my guns?”

   “Up in the black, you won’t need them.”

   “Uh-huh. And how am I supposed to trust this miracle of luck that has sent me hurtling from this world? How do I know you won’t just throw me out of an airlock?”

/>    “What would be the point?” Cantrell said, shaking her head. “Do you want out or not?”

   “You aren’t recruiting whores, or something, are you? I heard about one freighter…”

   “No we are not,” Cooper said. “I made you an offer. Fine, from your point of view it might be a gamble, but would you rather stay here?”

   “I’ll say this about you,” she replied, “You’ve got a talent for asking dumb questions. Fine, I accept. Hang back here for a minute while I scout ahead, we’re going to swing by my flop to get my stuff. You get my guns when I get on that shuttle. There’d better not be any problems…”

   “If there are, you can always turn us in.”

   “What’s your game, anyway? Why do you want my pistols?”

   Cooper glanced at Cantrell in mock hesitation, and said, “Someone on this rock stole some property that belonged to our boss. We’re here to get it back.”

   “Valuable stuff, huh.”

   “Couldn’t be more so.”

   “Well, I don’t want to be involved with anything that risky.”

   Shaking his head, Cooper said, “This goes wrong, our boss just writes us off.”

   “Smart guy,” she said. “Wait here. Back in sixty.”

   She walked down the corridor, and Cantrell turned to him, saying, “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

   “Improvising.”

   “We don’t know who she is, we don’t know who she works for, we don’t know a damn thing! You just sent someone who could be a Cabal agent up to our ship. And what was all that stuff about our property?”

   “The rest of my platoon. I just put it into the local dialect. Worst thing happens is that we toss her in a cell and carry her back to Hydra Station. She won’t be in a position to betray us.”

   “She’d damn well better not be.”

   “Besides, she saved our lives,” Cooper said, looking at her up the passage. “That’s a debt I don’t mind paying back.”