Текст книги "Well of Souls"

Автор книги: Ilsa J. Bick

Соавторы: Ilsa J. Bick
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

Chapter 9

Batra pressed close to Halak as they slipped in and out of shadows inked along Tajora Street by large, blocky warehouses. Tajora Street was a curling boulevard that ran around the northeast corner of Maltabra City and along the Galldean Sea for nearly three kilometers. She glanced at the illuminated dial of her chronometer: an hour shy of midnight. They’d left Dalal’s two hours before, slipping down a rear stairwell and out into a back alley. The alley ran diagonally northwest, and when they finally reached the end, they’d had to circle back, heading for the north end of Tajora Street. Halak said that Arava’s apartment, like Tajora Street, was in Qatala territory, almost dead center.

Batra’s nerves were a jangle of exhaustion and adrenaline-pumped fear. So far they’d been lucky. They hadn’t run into any of Qadir’s men, not that Batra had the faintest idea what those men might look like anyway. Knowing what she did now, she suspected that their three attackers had been Qatala, though she couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t going to ask Halak now. There’d be plenty of time for questions if they got to Betazed.

Batra’s grip tightened around Halak’s hand as he limped, splinting his right side. No.When we get to Betazed. Stay positive.

They headed south, keeping the sea on their left. Now and then the alleys and streets echoed with the low growl of a ship taking off from the spaceport to the north. Farius Prime had two moons, though neither was up, and so the sea was just a black wavering expanse: a sense of movement punctuated by the slap of water against concrete and metal posts, and the single solitary moan of a foghorn a kilometer from shore, perched on the end of a rocky quay. The smell was all wrong, though. Not salty: Batra sniffed a sea breeze whistling down the canyons formed by the warehouses that ran east to west, and recoiled. The sea had a nasty, sour, metallic odor, like old clotted blood and boiled fish.

The street was so quiet, the sounds of their footsteps scraping concrete sounded like rocks over sandpaper. The day’s heat had gone, though Batra felt residual warmth leaking through the soles of the slippers Dalal had given her. Squares of light speckled the monoliths of apartment buildings to her right; to her left, lining the piers were warehouses, their fronts bathed in fans of reddish-orange light from floodlights that perched above large cargo doors. When Batra raised her eyes to look overhead, the night sky wasn’t black but glowed a burnt orange color: reflected glare from the lights clustered at the city’s center and diffused by smog and mist rising from the chill sea.

Dark, and yet not dark at all. Batra shivered. Either way, a lot of things could happen, even in a darkness that wasn’t.

Halak must have thought she was cold because his right arm slipped around her shoulders. “Not too much farther.”

“It’s not that,” murmured Batra. “It’s just…I wish this was over with already.”

He tightened his grip. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Ani. I didn’t know…”

“No.” Abruptly, Batra stepped out of his embrace but kept her voice low. “No, that’s just it, Samir. You didknow. A man doesn’t bring an unregistered phaser along, slink off a ship…you knew there’d be trouble, and you knew what type of people you were dealing with. And don’t tell me otherwise, please. I may be naïve, I may have lived in more luxury than you…”

“Dalal didn’t mean…”

“This isn’t about Dalal!” Batra paused then resumed in a tense whisper. “It’s not even about Farius Prime. It’s about us, Samir; it’s about a man I’m in love with and thoughtI knew.”

They faced one another. The light from a nearby warehouse was behind Halak, and his face was in shadow. Batra couldn’t read his expression, though she caught the glint of his eyes. His voice came out of the darkness. “What do you want to know, Ani?”

Such simple words: yet behind them were volumes left unspoken. And what didshe want? For him to clear up all the discrepancies she’d caught at Dalal’s? To tell her why the hell people were trying to kill them? To explain how he could know, in such detail, a place as awful as this? Batra was so close she heard Halak’s quiet breathing, and she knew that if she put out a hand, she would feel the strong beat of his heart. Yes, here was the man she loved and was willing to sacrifice her career for, and what did she want?

“I don’t know,” she said, finally. “Everything. And nothing. Because I’m afraid, Samir, I’m afraidto know.”

Now Batra let Halak pull her close with his good arm. Sighing, she rested her left cheek against his breast. She heard the thud of his heart; the feel of his arm and his familiar scent comforted her. “But even though I’m afraid, I needto know. Whatever you’ve done, I can handle it.”

“You can’t know that, Ani. That sounds good, but you can’t predict something like that. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Enough for what, Samir? Forgiveness?”

“No, acceptance. There’s a big difference between acceptance and forgiveness.”

“Samir, I can accept a lot. I can forgive you almost anything.”

“There are conditions to everything, Ani, even love.”

“Samir,” she said. She slid her arms about his waist, felt the bulky roll of his bandage beneath his tunic. “Samir, please, what’s going on? Are you in trouble? Haveyou been?”

He laughed: a hopeless sound. “Trouble’s what I’m trying to avoid. Ani, if I thought it would help…”

His voice cut off. Puzzled, she pulled away and opened her mouth, but Halak put up a warning finger. Batra concentrated. Because she had turned back to Halak, the sea was off to her right, and she was conscious of the water lapping against stone, and then the call of the foghorn, a long lowing like an animal. Then, as the foghorn’s groan sighed away, she heard it: the clap of shoes upon stone.

From her left. Batra jerked her head around to scan the walk directly across Tajora Street. She spotted two figures: one tall and broad, the other in what looked like a hooded cloak, and much shorter. Coming straight for them.

Halak eased her to one side—out of the line of fire, she realized—and then she saw his hand hover at the small of his back, over his phaser. He said nothing, and his face was still in shadow, but Batra could feel how alert he’d become. How focused.

“If I tell you to run,” he said then, his voice very soft, “don’t argue and don’t stop to help. Just do what I say.”

Batra never did get a chance to ask Halak just exactly whereshe was supposed to run because the two figures crossed into a slant of light, their faces flickering briefly, and Batra heard Halak’s breath catch.

“Arava?” he whispered, starting forward. “Arava?”

Endangering Batra had been the last thing Halak wanted. Even when the knife had ripped into his side and pain shot through every fiber, what he’d thought about was keeping Batra safe. When he folded her into his arms, he marveled at how tiny she really was, how fragile her bones: like a bird. And then she’d shivered—perhaps from cold but maybe from fear, too—and he felt his resolve harden. No matter what the cost, or how things fell with Arava, he’d keep her safe.

Now, he watched as two figures melted out of the darkness and hurried across Tajora Street. On the alert, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. His eyes darted into the shadows. No one else there. Still, if Arava was working for Qadir, he didn’t know how much she could be trusted.

He stood his ground as she approached on the run, her cloak snapping, her footfalls crisp, staccato counterpoints to the loping, heavier strides of the larger figure which Halak saw now was a huge, blue-skinned Bolian male.

“Are you out of your mind?”Arava kept her hood up so her features were in total darkness, and Halak got more of an impression of her face than a good look. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Hello, Arava,” said Halak. His tone was calm, but he was conscious of his phaser against his back, as if the weapon had gotten white-hot and branded his skin. “Good to see you, too.” A quick glance told Halak that the Bolian had two weapons, one on either hip. “Nice toy. Is he new?”

“My bodyguard,” Arava said fiercely, “not a toy. You know that, Samir, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“How did you know Iwas here?”

“Maybe the question should be, who doesn’t?” Arava gave a laugh that wasn’t. “I was practically the last person to hear.” A jerk of the head toward Batra: “Who’s she?”

Halak put a hand on Batra’s shoulder before she could answer. “She’s a friend, Arava. She’s from my ship.”

“Can she be trusted?”

“This does seem to be the topic of the day,” Batra broke in. She shook off Halak’s hand. “Since I’m here and I’m with Samir, the question’s moot.”

“I trust her,” Halak said. “That should be enough for you, Arava.”

He was keenly aware of how vulnerable they were, out in the open like this. “I think we should continue this inside somewhere, don’t you?”

The Bolian spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly high for such a large man. “He’s right.”

“Okay,” said Arava. She jerked her head to the right. “Over there.”

She started for a nearby warehouse, a blocky structure with no windows that squatted at the near side of a pier lined with identical warehouses. Following after, Halak darted looks up and down the street. The street seemed empty. He wondered, briefly, how Arava had known exactly where to intercept them, and then it occurred to him that Qadir’s men must have monitored their progress as soon as he and Batra had turned onto Tajora. Dalal was right; he was getting soft. Likely they’d been followed before, perhaps as they’d left Dalal’s apartment.

And the men who attacked them? Strictly speaking, he’d told the truth. He hadn’t recognized them, and hadn’t a clue who they worked for. Qadir, or the Orion Syndicate? Maybe if he had a few moments alone with Arava, he’d ask her what she knew, or had heard.

God, Ani.He owed her more than his life. Yes, there were family matters to consider: his loyalty to Dalal, for one. As for Baatin…Halak’s heart twisted with pain. He’d bear the guilt for Baatin for the rest of his life, and he wanted to make things right by Arava, but not if it meant endangering Batra more than he already had.

Arava keyed a combination on a magnetic lock, verified her identity via retinal scan, and ushered them inside a small side door set well away from the street. She had the Bolian—who she called Matsaro—stand guard outside then led the way into the building.

“Lights,” said Arava. “Half.”

Instantly, the interior of the warehouse was suffused with a dusky yellow light. The space was twice the size of a standard cargo bay and three times as high. The warehouse was packed with crates and containers stacked floor to ceiling in long precise rows running from the entrance to a larger set of doors at the very end. Halak browsed the containers for markings, or an indication of destination or origin, and found none. Understandable: Making things appear and disappear was Qadir’s stock and trade. He was sure some of the crates were legitimate, but most probably weren’t.

“Well,” said Arava, shrugging out of her cloak and tossing it onto a nearby barrel. Her face was a smooth oval, and her hair—a golden, honey blonde—spilled about her shoulders. “The prodigal son returns. Your timing stinks. What, did you think Qadir would just forget?”

Halak heard Batra’s sudden intake of breath. “Actually, I didn’t pick the time,” said Halak, choosing not to address what Qadir might, or might not forget. “Dalal contacted me. Said I had to talk some sense into you.”

“Sense.” Arava gave that nonlaugh again. She hugged her arms to her chest, as if she were cold. With her blonde hair and large, brown-black eyes, she looked very small to Halak, almost like a child. But there was a hard edge to her now, a cynicism and bitterness he didn’t remember. The Arava he’d left behind had been a young, fresh-faced woman. He saw now the changes that time—and tragedy—had inscribed on her features. A tracery of tiny lines fanned from the corners of her eyes and her face was white and pinched, with a furrow chiseled into either side of her nose, as if she never really found anything to smile about.

“Dalal doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” said Arava, crossly. “She’s meddling in things that aren’t her concern.”

“Really? She’s concerned enough about you to stay on this godforsaken planet.”

“That’s her choice.”

“Come on, Arava. Dalal’s known you since you were old enough to spit.”

Arava gave Halak a narrow look. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re with Qadir, you aren’t.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I won’t remind you who that sounds like.”

That stung, as he’d meant it to. Halak saw a flash of pain crease her brow. “That wasn’t fair,” she said.

“I don’t care about what’s fair. I care about what’s right. I care about living, and I care about you. Life isn’t fair, Arava. I’m just trying to help you stay alive, so we can have debates about how unfair life is when we’re old and gray.”

“I was born old. You, of all people, ought to know that.”

“You’re saying that the people who love you ought to look the other way? Let you choose a path that can only end very badly?”

“I know the risks.”

“Do you?” Halak erased the distance between them until he stood just centimeters away. He didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. Arava, Arava, please listen to me….“Do you really?”

Arava swallowed, a loud liquid sound in the sudden silence. Her eyes were bright, but her voice was firm. “I know what I’m doing. Dalal’s concern won’t change a thing. The risks have always been there, they’re not going to go away. And until I finish, no place I run will be far enough. As for risk,” she lifted her chin in the direction of his left arm, “you’re the one who ought to be worried. The way you’re holding yourself, looks to me like they cut you up pretty good.”

“They did all right. We did better.”

“Yeah? You think so? Let me tell you something, Samir. You walked away because you had Lady Luck on your side, nothing more and nothing less. Next time, maybe, you won’t be so lucky. Maybe Lady Luck’ll take a hike.”

“No, she won’t,” said Batra. “Not a chance in hell.”

Halak flashed her a tight, grateful smile before turning back to Arava. “Luck, no luck…you know what I think? I think I was meantto walk away. Even out of uniform, my being in Starfleet has certain advantages. Kill me, and Qadir attracts too much attention. Scaring me off serves just fine. I think this, us meeting and contactwith Starfleet”—he used his hand to indicate the space between them—“this is what Qadir wants to avoid.”

“You?”Arava made a derisive sound. “You’re too obvious. He’s worried about the ones he can’tsee.”

“And how many of those are there?”

Alarm flickered across Arava’s face, and her eyes narrowed: a warning. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Samir.”

“I’m sorry.” Halak spread his hands in a placating gesture then lightly placed them on her shoulders. She was thinner than he remembered; the humps of her bones dug into his palms. “Look, I didn’t come all this way to fight with you.”

“Then what did you come for?” Arava shot back. She twisted away. “I don’t need lectures, Samir. I made my choice. I just need more time, that’s all.”

“Time?”

Arava’s eyes flicked to Batra and back to Halak. She arched her eyebrows. The question was there: Is it safe?Halak moved his head fractionally, side to side.

“Right.” Arava made a small sound in the back of her throat. Sighing, she scooped a hand through her golden hair. “Baatin was in deep, you know that. I’ve”—that quick sidelong glance to Batra again—“I’ve taken over where he left off, that’s all. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

This was what Halak had been afraid of. Baatin had been smart, careful. Trusted. And he was still just as dead. “Do you know how much longer?”

Arava chose her words with care. “I’ve done some…negotiating. Depending upon what the higher-ups say, maybe as soon as next week, the week after. There’s a glitch, though. I’m not the only one who’s…interested. But I can tell you that something’s up. There are new people in the organization, and there’s talk.”

“Talk?”

“Of men from the Orion Syndicate infiltrating the rank and file, working their way up. The problem is, no one knows exactly who.”

“You think it’s true?”

Arava hesitated then nodded. “There have been intercepts of some shipments. Others disappear before they reach their destination. Qadir thinks there’s a mole, maybe more than one. I’ve already been questioned, twice.”

“How close do you think he is?”

Arava considered. “Let me put it this way: I hear he’s getting a telepath next.”

“Then you’re running out of time.”

“Maybe. I told the…contact, and she’s working on it.” Arava dragged in a deep breath. “Just a little longer, though. That’s all I need.”

“I can’t believe that you couldn’t leave now. Don’t you have enough to…?”

“Not quite yet. Look, I’ve worked long and hard to get where I am, and I’m not going to cash out now. I want to take as large a piece of Qadir with me as I can.”

“Baatin tried that.”

“And failed. Yes, I know,”said Arava, bitterly. “You think I don’t think about Baatin every damn day? Probably more than you ever will.”

“No,” said Halak, feeling a crush of guilt. “But this isn’t a contest.” He blew out, frustrated. “All right then. You’ve made up your mind. I’ll leave you alone.”

Arava jerked her head in a curt nod. “That’s what I want. Do you think you can get Dalal…?”

“She’s not going to budge a millimeter until you’re off-world.”

“Stubborn old mule.” A tiny smile flitted over Arava’s lips. “Remember the time I brought home that Vulcan sehlat?I thought Dalal was going to have a heart attack.”

“Yes, and I remember how set she was on getting rid of it, and how you cried all night until she gave in.” Halak grinned. “Damn thing nearly took my finger off the first time I tried petting it.”

“That’s because you didn’t smell right. It was just being territorial.” Arava’s expression softened. She walked to Halak, reached up, and cupped his face in her hands. “A lot of memories. When I’m out of here, Samir, I promise…”

“Sure,” said Halak, kissing Arava on the forehead. Then he saw Batra standing off to one side. Her face was pale; her lips were set. Halak was seized by an urge to tell her everything, right there—and discarded the impulse as suicidal. He could never tell her. He could never tell anyone.

But it’s not what you think.He tried to say this with his eyes. Ani, it’s not what you’re thinking.But Batra’s expression was unreadable.

Halak looked back down at Arava. “Sure,” he said again. “Sure.”

He tried to make certain that his smile made it to his eyes. Later, he was pretty sure it didn’t.

Chapter 10

Pressed against the slick stones of an apartment building across the street, the woman watched and waited. She’d seen them meet: Arava with her Bolian bodyguard, the commander, and a small woman with long black hair she didn’t recognize but who seemed to be with Halak. From a distance, she couldn’t tell if the woman was a local. She tended to doubt it. Something about the way the woman carried herself suggested a life that hadn’t been conditioned by deprivation, or the everyday struggle for simple survival. Another Starfleet? More than likely: She’d have to run a check when she had a moment, figure out the likely candidates aboard Enterprise.

She glanced over her shoulder every few moments, though she’d set up proximity alarms (silent, so only she would know, via a microtransceiver tucked in her right ear, if someone got within twenty meters). She was certain she hadn’t been followed, but operatives didn’t stay alive on Farius Prime for long if they weren’t cautious. (Two of her immediate predecessors had met ignominious ends: one with a knife wound through the heart in what was, putatively, a barroom brawl, and the other who’d been reduced to an oily smudge with a submolecular pattern disruptor. The weapon was illegal as sin, and very efficient.) She’d hung well back, letting the tracking device she’d slipped into the clasp of Arava’s cloak do the work for her.

All the while she waited for Halak to reemerge, the question kept bouncing around her brain: What was he doing here? It wasn’t as if coming to Farius Prime was illegal; it wasn’t a proscribed or quarantined world. But Farius Prime was the type of planet most people were happy to see receding in the distance.

And the point was Halak washere, and he was making contact with Arava. She fretted. Trouble there. She’d worked hard to make things come off with Arava; they were at a very delicate stage in their negotiations; and now if Halak interfered…A lot of work, a lot of time—a lot of moneygreasing the appropriate palms—it would all be for nothing if Halak screwed up the works.

She considered, briefly, that Halak might be one of her own. There had been rumors floating around about that Ryn mission, the one before he transferred to Enterprise.Eight months of down time might be an appropriate period for someone to go to ground. But she couldn’t believe he’d been deployed to the same theater without someone giving her a head’s up, not when things were this delicate.

The Bolian, Matsaro, worried her, too. She knew the man by reputation, of course. A Qatala man for years, but she had her ear to the ground, and there were rumors that the Bolian wanted more than Qadir was willing to give. Except when she’d told Arava, Arava shrugged her off, and that made her uneasy. Arava was too damned sure of herself, not willing to listen to reason, and she put too much store in her being the only way, after Baatin was dead, of anyone getting into the Qatala.

Well, times had changed, and she’d recruited another source. No sense putting all her eggs in Arava’s basket.

She breathed a little easier when, after a half hour, Halak and the small woman emerged. There was a brief exchange, and then Arava went one way; the Bolian, Halak, and the woman went another. Matsaro was probably escorting Halak off-world. She hoped so. She didn’t need the complications.

She checked the time. Good: over three hours before she and Arava were scheduled to make contact. Time enough for her to get some answers.

A half hour later, she was in her tiny apartment, keying in her authorization code to open a secured channel.

Her CO answered right away, prompting her to wonder if the woman ever slept. “Batanides.”

Then, when she recognized her caller, SI Commander Marta Batanides’s piercing blue eyes narrowed with concern. “Burke. You’re on an emergency channel, and a day early. What’s wrong, Lieutenant?”

“Plenty,” said Starfleet Intelligence Special Agent Laura Burke, her tone clipped and urgent. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about Halak?”