Desert Stars (16 page)

The elevator came to a jolting stop,
and Mira grabbed his arm in fright. He patted her hand for
reassurance and picked up the bags, squinting in the dim light at
the display panel next to the door.

“
Level 3015,” he read.
“This should be it.”

The door hissed open, and he and Mira
both stepped out into a wide but windowless corridor. The ceiling
was low, and the only lights hung along the center, leaving the
edges in shadow. Several of them flickered, as if in need of
repair. Jalil thought he saw someone staring at them from the
shadows to his right, but when he turned, he realized it was just
another pile of garbage.

“
Let’s move quickly,” he
said, remembering the robbers in Aliet Dome. His stomach growled
like a roaring beast, and he hurried forward into the darkness,
Mira close behind him.

The cantina was right where the
station attendant had told them it would be: at the end of the
corridor. A handful of dusty, long-abandoned booths stood in front
of the cantina doorway, while all the other shops along the wall
were caged or boarded up. A bead curtain hung from the doorjamb;
above it, a neon sign flickered on and off, written in a language
that Jalil couldn’t understand.

“
Heyyou!” muttered a
scruffy drunkard, lying next to the door. Mira froze, but Jalil
quickly parted the beads and led them in before the man could make
any trouble.

The air inside reeked with the sweet
smell of hookah smoke and flavored cigarettes. Red-tinted glowlamps
illuminated the room in the color of blood, while rhythmic
electronic music pounded out a steady pulse like a heartbeat.
Almost every table in the room was full, and every seat at the bar
was occupied. A few heads turned as he and Mira entered, their eyes
bloodshot and vacant.

Jalil knew at once that he didn’t like
the place.

He led Mira through the crowd to the
last empty table. It was a little large, but sat up against the
corner, where he could keep an eye on the rest of the room. He
dropped his bags and unslung his rifle before sitting down, making
way for Mira to sit on the far side.

“
Anything particular you
want?” he asked.

“
Maybe some beans and
flatbread, if they have any.”

Jalil glanced up at the menu on the
wall, written in New Gaian; he didn’t see it listed, but figured it
wouldn’t be hard to get something similar.

As he opened the rifle’s chamber, he
became aware that someone at the bar was staring at him. Without
looking up, he loaded three bullets and rose to his feet, snapping
the chamber shut. A few people at one of the nearby tables raised
their eyebrows, but most of the cantina’s patrons paid him no mind.
That was fine by him, so long as they knew he wasn’t
defenseless.

Keeping Mira in the corner of his eye,
he slung the rifle over his shoulder and walked up to the food
counter. “A platter of beans and flatbread,” he told the small boy
at the front, pulling out the last cash datachip. “Enough for
two.”

“
Four credits,” said the
boy. He turned to the portly cook and shouted something in a
language Jalil didn’t understand.

Not sure whether to wait or to sit
back down, Jalil glanced casually around the room. There didn’t
seem to be any waiters in the place; only the boy, the cook, and a
very busy bartender. Keeping one eye on Mira back in the corner, he
leaned over the counter to wait.

“
I’m telling you, that’s
not possible,” said one of the men at the bar, speaking in New
Gaian. Though his voice mingled with the others, he sat close
enough that Jalil could just pick out his voice from the background
noise.

“
Believe what you want,”
said his companion, “but that’s what the survivors told
us.”

“
How did they
know?”

“
Simple. They answered the
summons to the council at Tenguri but refused to join forces. A few
months later, a fleet of Hameji warships jumped into their home
system and massacred everyone. No prisoners, and damn few
survivors.”

Hameji?
Jalil wondered, his curiosity piqued. He didn’t
know why, but that word sounded strangely familiar.

“
We’ve all heard stories
about the Hameji atrocities,” said another man. “What makes this
any different?”

“
Easy,” said the first.
“You ever been to the Outer Reaches? It’s a hardy breed that lives
beyond the civilized worlds—a New Gaian battle group wouldn’t last
six months out there, let me tell you that.”

“
Your point
being?”

“
According to what the
survivors told us, they’d put together a tribal alliance nearly
three times larger than the Hameji war fleet. Three times
larger—and all of them warrior captains. Should have been an easy
victory, right?”

The men were silent. Jalil shifted so
that he could hear them better.

“
They didn’t have a
chance. The Hameji fleet was too coordinated—met them like a hive
of drones, all thinking with the same mind.”

“
I still think it’s
impossible. Those survivors must have been deluded.”

“
Their ship’s log backed
up what they were saying. The details of the stories matched. Yeah,
they might have been a bit skittish when we picked them up, but
they certainly were in their right minds when they wrote up the
log, I can tell you that.”

“
Here you go,” said the
boy, sliding the steaming hot platter across the countertop to
Jalil. The beans were mixed with an assortment of strange herbs,
but smelled palatable enough. He thanked the boy and took the
platter back to his table, leaving the men to their strange
conversation.

He and Mira ate ravenously, not
bothering to talk. They were both too tired for that anyway. In a
few minutes, they were wiping the last of the beans from the bottom
of the platter with the last few pieces of bread.

As they finished off the simple but
satisfying meal, the lights in the cantina grew dim, while off to
the side, three large, tubular showcase windows lit up with warm,
yellow light. Jalil didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed them before;
perhaps he’d been too preoccupied.

As the electronic music grew louder, a
man in a long, dark coat stood up from the bar and strode over to
their table. Jalil realized it was the man who’d been staring at
them earlier. He tensed and gripped the rifle in his
lap.

“
Good morning,” said the
man, pulling up a chair across from him and Mira. “Mind if I take a
seat?”

“
Yes,” said Jalil. “This
table is occupied.”

“
The peace of Earth be
upon you too, brother.”

Mira gasped, and Jalil struggled to
hide his surprise. The man knew the language of the high
desert.

“
Who are you, and what do
you want?”

“
My name is Gregor
Luczak,” the man answered, still speaking the desert tongue. “I am
what you could call a businessman. I wish to speak with you because
I believe we are both in a position to provide something that the
other needs.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jalil
saw a girl step into the central showcase. She was about Mira’s
age, with long black hair that stretched to her waist, and wore a
provocative red dress that revealed more than it covered. Though
his eyes were naturally drawn to her slender, feminine figure, he
forced his attention back to the man sitting across the
table.

“
I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

Gregor gave him a sly, calculating
smile. “You’re pilgrims from the high desert, are you not?” he
asked, reverting to New Gaian. “Looking for a way to the temple,
but running low on funds—so low that you can only afford to take
the night trains. And, being from the high desert, I expect that
you have a certain set of skills that most people in these parts
lack.” He eyed the heirloom rifle meaningfully. “Am I
right?”

Jalil stared at him without answering.
On the stage, two girls stepped into the other showcases, their
bodies swaying to the steady electronic beat.

“
What are you
proposing?”

“
Simply this, my friend:
passage through Etilan Dome in exchange for your services on my
convoy.”

Jalil tried to focus, but the dancing
cantina girls made it all but impossible. The sensuous way they
moved their hips and slid their hands across their bodies made his
cheeks blanch and his heart pound. He’d never seen so much
uncovered skin on a woman before, and it was hard not to
stare.

“
Huh?” said Jalil. “Our
route goes through Waszik Dome, not Etilan.”

“
Ah, that is where most
pilgrims make their mistake,” said Gregor, pulling out a cigar as
he leaned back in his chair. “The Temple of a Thousand Suns is
surrounded by a number of smaller ancient domes, each about four
hundred miles in diameter. If you continued through Waszik Dome,
you would have to pass through five of these smaller ones to reach
your destination. But Etilan Dome is significantly larger, with its
furthest border only eight hundred miles from the temple. Once
through Etilan, you will only need to pass through two
more.”

The woman in the center showcase
slowly unwrapped a long stretch of cloth from her waist, revealing
a wide stretch of midriff. Intricate henna tattoos circled her
navel, undulating seductively with the movement of her belly. Jalil
swallowed, and cold sweat began to form on the back of his
neck.

“
And what do you want from
us?” he asked.

Gregor put the cigar in his mouth and
lit it with an ornate silver lighter from his breast pocket. The
foul-smelling smoke rose around the edges of his mouth, momentarily
obscuring his face.

“
I have a small convoy
carrying several valuable goods that need protection. Your duty
would be to ensure our safe passage from Raya Dome to Terra 4 Dome,
a journey of less than twenty-five hundred miles. Once we reach our
destination, you’d be free to go—and generously compensated for
your trouble.”

“
How much?”

“
Five thousand
credits.”

Jalil’s eyes widened, and he failed to
suppress a gasp. Five thousand credits—that was more than enough to
get them to the temple. There might even be enough left over for
offworld passage.

“
That’s all we have to
do?” he asked. “Escort your convoy twenty-five hundred
miles?”

“
Yes. Care for a
cigar?”

“
Not so fast—what’s the
catch? What do you need your convoy guarded from?”

Gregor Luczak grinned. “I see you are
a cautious man. Etilan Dome has been mired in civil war for several
years. That will not be a problem; the cease-fire between the
rebels and the government shows no sign of breaking, at least in
the next few weeks. However, a number of warlords and bandits have
risen to power in the border territories. Our convoy guard is more
than adequate to deal with this threat, but we have need of an
advance scout. Your experience in the desert makes you perfect for
the job.”

Jalil frowned. “I don’t
know…”

Gregor bit on his cigar and reached
into his vest, pulling out a cash datachip. “I’ll pay you two
thousand up front, with the other three thousand on
arrival.”

He tossed the chip across the table to
Jalil, who picked it up and examined it. It looked real enough,
though he’d have to plug it into a kiosk to make sure it had the
full two thousand credits. Still, it seemed Gregor was telling the
truth.

“
Any conditions for the
other three thousand?”

“
So long as at least
three-quarters of my cargo gets through safely, I’ll pay you in
full. And if we arrive with the full hundred percent, I’ll give you
an extra two thousand on top of that.”

Seven thousand
credits,
Jalil thought to himself, his
heart pounding.
That’s more than enough to
get us to the temple—I could even pay for Mira’s flight back
home.

Regardless, they weren’t in a position
to say no.

Jalil glanced up and froze in his
chair. The black haired girl in the central showcase stood with her
back to the audience, arms wrapped around her body so that it
looked as if someone was embracing her. Swaying erotically, she
hiked up the top half of her dress and slipped it over her head. He
stared wide-eyed at the sight; had she really—

She turned around to face the
audience, baring her naked breasts for all to see. Catcalls filled
the air, and a drunk man lunged forward, hitting the glass with a
solid thud that made the other cantina-goers roar with
laughter.

Jalil stared as if transfixed. His
heart pounded in his chest like a caged animal, and his breathing
came short and quick while his hands slackened and went
clammy.

“
Jalil?”

It was Mira; he started at the sound
of her voice.

“
What?” he asked, turning
to face her. He blinked and swallowed, sweat pooling behind his
ears and on his forehead.

“
What are you two talking
about?” she asked softly, glancing past him at the girls in the
showcases.