by Eric Thomson
“Cheerful place.” Vasser snorted.
“Rule number three: no cheerfulness allowed.”
“Are you intending to contact the local Marine garrison?” Talyn moved her veil aside.
“No. Not unless it’s the last alternative. Pathfinder squadrons can keep their mouths shut but this is a line regiment, and they tend to live off gossip. Intelligence agents looking for Harmon Amali’s desert compound is pretty juicy. We’ll go to a restaurant I remember from my tour. It had been around for decades back then so chances are it’s still operating. They don’t mind off-worlders, the food is safe and maybe, just maybe the old one-eyed bugger who makes the coffee will remember me and answer some questions.”
“So that’s why you removed most of your disguise. I was beginning to wonder. Did Amali know you were an old Nabhka hand when he decided to hole up here?” Croyle asked.
“If he’d bothered to check my service record, he’d have known, though I doubt his hideout is a recent thing. It may even have already been here when I came through a few years ago.” Decker paused, struck by an idea. “Is there any way we can contact ‘Uncle Josiah’ and not burn our cover?”
Talyn thought about it for a few moments, then slowly nodded.
“There might be a way although if someone does intercept it, they’ll be on to us eventually. Nothing remains untraceable. What are you thinking?”
“When the 9th did its tour here, I’m pretty sure the S-2 section updated the maps of all oases and inhabited spots. I remember we went out to some of the harder to find ones by skimmer, so it stands to reason that they were using the information for something. If we can get a copy of what they did, we might get a leg up on our search.”
“That explains the sudden ‘I’m an idiot’ look on your face,” she smiled at him. “It might take a few days, though.”
“So might going through all the information merchants in the souk.”
“True, but keep in mind,” Croyle warned, “that some bright spark on the opposite team will eventually put all the clues together and figure out we’re in Kish already, meaning we’ll need to get out of town and on our way sooner rather than later.”
“Things move at their own speed on Nabhka.” Zack shrugged. “Ladies, time to pull the veil in front of your delicate features. I’m getting hungry, and the pseudo-lamb at the Ghurab won’t eat itself.”
“Pseudo-lamb?” Vasser stared at him as if he’d just propositioned her. “Don’t tell me that it’s made from native life-forms.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
With that, he led the way out of the dingy hotel and into the bright sun. The sudden slap of heat momentarily stunned them, but then with Decker as point man, they headed down a narrow, winding alley into the heart of the souk.
Since he spoke some of the local dialect and the others didn’t, they stayed silent, contenting themselves by taking in the sights, sounds, and unfortunate smells. Talyn was glad that all but her eyes were hidden so no one could see her grimace at the less than salubrious surroundings.
After what seemed like an epic hike through a torturous labyrinth, they emerged in a large plaza filled with brightly-colored awnings covering hundreds of stalls hawking just about everything imaginable.
Keeping to one side rather than wading through the throng, Decker led them towards an increasingly tantalizing aroma of grilled meat until they stood on the threshold of a large two-story building with a flat roof and arched windows through which they could see finely detailed wood screens designed to tame the harsh sun’s rays.
Inside, dozens of glow globes encased in fixtures made from beaten copper provided soft lighting that seemed strangely inadequate after the brightness of the late afternoon. Their eyes soon adapted however and took in a large communal space filled with low tables and cushions, its walls covered with geometric designs in many complementary colors.
A wizened old man appeared from behind a bead curtain and smiled broadly at them. He spoke in a rapid-fire guttural tongue, revealing large, yellowed teeth. Decker’s reply, in the same language, was slower and more hesitant as he worked to remember the appropriate words.
When he fell silent, the man nodded and motioned them to follow him to the back of the building. There, a large corridor opened onto a number of small rooms furnished just like their larger brother. They took the first one to the right, overlooking the souk, and settled down on thick, comfortable cushions.
“I asked for a private room so the ladies can eat without having to flap their veils about. It’s quite acceptable to show your face in private if the only males are family. Just remember to cover your faces when a waiter comes in.”
“You know,” Vasser muttered, “the disguise part is useful, but I’d hate to be a woman living full-time in this society.”
“That’s why the ones who don’t want a traditional lifestyle emigrate,” Decker replied. “As someone once said, if you can’t handle the customs, don’t stick around.”
The old man returned before the other agent could launch what would likely have been a very tart reply. He dropped off four glasses and a large pitcher of water with sliced fruit floating in it and looked at Zack expectantly. Decker nodded his thanks and placed their food order.
“That pseudo-lamb better be good,” Vasser warned him, “otherwise I’ll have to practice my more arcane interrogation techniques on you.”
“I told him to get us a sampler of all the grilled meats they had going, with the usual rice, beans, and figs. If it’s still the same cook, you’ll love it. The only thing missing is a cold beer, but you won’t find alcohol in the regular establishments around here. It’s some sort of taboo for the lower classes. The rich folks on the other hand, drink themselves silly on a regular basis. They used to flock to the regimental mess in droves whenever they could.”
“So where’s your coffee guy?” Croyle asked.
“Ahmat will show up at the end of the meal if he’s still working here, so there’s no point in worrying about it now. Keep in mind that patience is considered a great virtue on Nabhka.”
The food was as simple as it was tasty and even Vasser gave the pseudo-lamb two greasy thumbs up. After bringing the overloaded platters, the waiter had left them alone so the women could unveil and eat in comfort. Throughout the meal, he would knock delicately on the wooden doorframe as a warning when he came to retrieve empty plates, giving the two female agents time to make themselves decent again.
Once the table was cleared, a one-eyed man with a withered face, wearing an impossibly ornate robe, entered the room carrying a stack of tiny cups and a tall metal coffee pot exuding a rich aroma. He bowed and then poured the thick black liquid with the artistry of a great showman before serving them with a practiced flourish. When he was done, Decker smiled at him engagingly.
“Do you perchance remember me, Sidi Ahmat?”
The server’s single eye narrowed as he contemplated the Marine’s muscular bulk and square face, startled by an off-worlder addressing him with the traditional title of respect.
“You are vaguely familiar to my tired sight, honored guest. Were you a soldier of the Commonwealth once?”
“I was. When my unit was stationed on Nabhka, I used to come here whenever I could, to sample the meats and the most excellent coffee. You and I used to exchange gossip and jokes. It’s doubtful that any other Marine would have done this, much less learned to tell tales of the deep desert.”
“Decker?” The man looked startled and then delighted, as he reached down to touch the Marine. “You’ve changed, my friend.”
“Life does that.”
“So it does. What brings you here, to Nabhka, I mean, not the Ghurab.”
“Business of sorts, my friend. Why don’t you pour yourself a coffee and join us.”
Ahmat dropped down beside Zack and pulled another cup from the folds of his robe, filling it with one quick pour. He took a sip and sighed.
“You enjoyed your meal, good sir?” He looked at Croyle, a
voiding the women’s eyes so as not to offend their modesty.
“My associates don’t understand your language.”
“Then you must teach them, Decker, so they can praise the Ghurab’s kitchen to all comers.”
For nearly half an hour and through several refills, they spoke of this and that, catching up, talking about the weather, the upcoming race week, all the while watched by envious eyes belonging to intelligence agents unable to decipher a single word.
Ahmat finished his coffee and made his cup disappear again.
“So you’re here on business, you said. Is it to be profitable?”
“Only if profit is to be measured by a man’s expiation for his crimes. He owes me a life.”
“Oho! A feud then.” His seamed face lit up with sudden interest. “An off-worlder come to hide here or one of my people?”
“An off-worlder. I believe that he is hiding in an oasis in the deep desert, one that he owns and lets no one else visit.”
Ahmat stroked his short beard and nodded sagely.
“There might be such a man if the rumors about Shayk Hysan are true.”
“What might those rumors be, my friend?” Zack pulled a hundred cred chip from his pocket and played idly with it. No one mistook the gleam of avarice in Ahmat’s eye for anything else.
“Profit, Decker, to be gleaned in a project financed by the man Shayk Hysan has been courting. It is said he lives like an emir in a castle to the south of here, on the edge of the Great Erg or even in the Great Erg itself. Perhaps this is the man against whom you hold that debt, but if he is, you’ll not find it easy. He is rumored to be well defended. Even the Shayk can only go if he’s expressly invited.”
Zack flicked the cred chip in the air, watching as Ahmat snatched and pocketed it in one fluid gesture.
“It is also said that this off-worlder is evil.” The coffee man rose and stacked the four empty cups before lifting his large serving pot. “The desert nomads speak of a clan that had used the oasis for generations but was barred the moment he bought it, and they died in the Great Erg for lack of water on their subsequent migration to the Ferouz.”
“He’s an evil bugger all right. Take care, my friend.”
“No, Decker, you must take care. Evil can be powerful, especially out in the desert.”
“Then I’ll make sure I’m the most powerful one.”
“In that case, God guard you.” Ahmat pushed the curtain aside and vanished.
“Judging by the expression on your face, you’ve got something useful from that strange man,” Talyn remarked in an idle tone.
“Indeed, Hera.” Decker’s face was split by a mad grin. “Here’s what Ahmat told me...”
“Harmon Amali sounds like he’s a hell of a snake alright.” Croyle grimaced after the Marine finished relating his conversation with Ahmat
“A snake, or some kind of slimy, poisonous lizard.” Decker shrugged. “Mind you, the whole Amali clan suffers from a reptile dysfunction, so it isn’t all that surprising.”
Ignoring Talyn’s groan at the bad pun, Vasser asked, “Do you believe him? For a hundred creds, anyone would spin a good tale.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Before I pulled out the hundred cred chip, he was speaking of possibilities. Once he saw the money, he became very particular. Denying anyone access to an oasis is considered lower than engaging in bestiality with a camelot, so it’s not an accusation to make lightly. Knowing what a sweetheart Amali is, I’m not surprised that he didn’t give a damn about a nomad clan. Human beings are simply tools where he’s concerned, to be used and then discarded.”
“What the heck is a camelot, other than the mythical place?”
“That’s what some people call a native beast used as transport on Nabhka. The things look like a camel designed by a madman with a fetish for six limbs: camel, with lots of legs – camelot. The natives have another name for it, of course.”
“Cute.” Croyle shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling that we’ll be seeing these critters up close soon?”
“Because the best way to travel in the Great Erg without attracting notice is by riding them, just like any other backcountry dweller. Skimmers are for the wealthy and townies.”
“Have you given some thought about using this shayk fellow to find and infiltrate Amali’s compound?”
Decker nodded.
“It had occurred to me, but there are too many variables outside my control for it to be a good idea, not least because whatever the shayk is riding when he goes for a visit will be checked over carefully. Remember, the bugger knows I’m coming for him and, with luck, he knows that his hired guns have lost my trail so his paranoia will be playing in overtime.”
He stood, shaking out his colorful robes.
“Come on, time to return to our room and figure out the best way to contact Uncle Josiah. Now that Ahmat has given us a smaller area to work with, all I need are the charts for the near edge of the Great Erg. We can be pretty sure he wouldn’t be sitting on the far side, where there’s just about no civilization for thousands of kilometers and where the weather can be thoroughly brutal, even for the nomads, let alone a pink-skinned aristo.”
Twenty-Six
“There.” Zack pointed at a spot south of Assur, the last sizeable town before the deep desert. They’d received the charts earlier that morning via an anonymous subspace transmission that had cost a small fortune to arrange. The previous three days had been spent laying low, with Decker occasionally visiting other possible sources of information he could remember from his tour of duty on Nabhka to little effect. He didn’t want to push his luck to the point where rumors of a big Marine, disguised as a local and asking a lot of questions, got back to someone who wished to put a target on his back.
“Take a look.” He enlarged the picture. “That’s not Fort Zinderneuf, children, even though it seems like the Foreign Legion set up a factory outlet on top of the Nippur oasis. No local shayk would bother with a country house on the edge of the deep dunes. They like the comfort of civilization too much. And it’s pretty much in the area Ahmat described.”
“Fort what?” Vasser gave Zack a quizzical look.
“Don’t mind my partner.” Talyn waved away the question. “He’s got a treasure trove of useless historical information in that thick skull of his. Please don’t get him started.”
She examined the map. “How do we get there? I’m presuming you don’t intend to set out in a camelot caravan from Kish.”
“No. There’s got to be regular service, either overland or by air to Assur. That’s where we’ll get ourselves a half dozen of the six-legged critters and make like desert people, maybe even join a regular caravan for a spell.”
“And when we get there?” Vasser again, sounding unconvinced.
“We make it up on the fly. There are a few rocky outcrops around the oasis that’ll make excellent observation posts and give us places to hide. Apart from the sun, there are critters in the sand who like the taste of human and camelot flesh, so you want to have solid stone under your ass if you’re not moving. The nomads go from rock to rock when they cross the Erg, sometimes staying on the move for a day and a half if they have to, even sleeping in the saddle.”
“Charming.” Croyle made a face. “Any other little surprises we need to know about?”
“Plenty, and I’ll tell you about them when I remember.”
Talyn looked up from the room’s antiquated computer console.
“There’s a regular skimmer run between Kish and Assur twice a week. The next one leaves this afternoon.”
“Then we’d better pack up and get ourselves to whatever passes for a station around here.” Decker shut off the pad he’d been using to project the chart and slid it into a pocket beneath his robes. “We need to buy water and food. It’ll be six hours at least, and if they do have a catering service on board, it likely won’t be one I want to touch.”
“Why don’t Vasser and I go out and hunt for supplies,” Croyle su
ggested, “that way the two of you can finish planning. After all, we’re supposed to be the support team.”
Decker nodded absently, his mind already thinking about what he’d need to do once they got to Assur.
*
The gentle rap of knuckles on the door frame startled Harmon Amali out of his intense contemplation of Shayk Hysan’s proposal. He looked up at Lyle, irritated.
“What is it?”
“Our contractors have reported to their superiors, sir. Decker is on Nabhka. I’ve been assured that he and his companion will be dealt with shortly.”
“That’s good news, though I’d have preferred they take him before he set foot on the planet.”
Lyle nodded.
“So would I, sir, but apparently the contractors chose to wait until they could be made to vanish unobtrusively. Decker and his partner gave them enough of a run-around that killing them before arriving on Nabhka would have raised too many questions.”
Amali considered the explanation while he took a sip of his scented water.
“I suppose it makes sense from their point of view. However, the next time we need to use their services, let’s make sure the contract is more specific, such as carrying out the work much further away from me. In this case, a few light years would have been preferable, but seeing as they missed at Merseaux...”
“Agreed, sir, and when I so informed the liaison, she did point out that the terms included a clause giving wide latitude to the operatives in the field. Before I go, might I remind you that you still haven’t set a date for the shayk’s return visit? His personal assistant has been contacting me several times a day.”
“Let him learn the virtues of patience, Lyle. No response until I say so.”
“As you wish.” The aide bowed his head briefly before vanishing back into the bowels of the fortified mansion.