Fire On the Sand Read online

  "Can't you open it?"

  "Not if I want to void the bond and lose my fee. We've come too far and done too much for that to happen." She reached for the speaking tube mounted on the bulkhead. "Flight deck, this is the Captain. I want a thorough sweep of the ship, fore to aft. Nobody is to investigate alone. I want people in pairs at all times, and two guards on the cargo bay access hatch in the passageway."

  An acknowledgment came and Adena hung up the mouthpiece. She shook her head. "Well, we can't do any more down here. Greg, come with me if you're fit enough."

  Adena prowled the length and breadth of Oculus Nightingale, senses attuned to any sign of alarm or an intruder. The sweep took the best part of an hour and came up empty. Everything was as it should be aboard until they reached the passenger lounge. Zared lazed on the sofa, watching a crew woman make temporary repairs to the shattered window.

  Greg looked around. "The murrik came in here, but I don't see the body."

  Adena looked at the crewman. "Priscilla?"

  Priscilla sketched a salute. "I pitched it overboard, skipper. It was stinkin' the place up." She looked at the supercargo with an expression of approval. "Mr. Zared shot it in the face with a revolver."

  Adena frowned. "Is that so?"

  Zared spread his hands and gave her a polite smile. "It's true, captain."

  "Then I'll need your weapon. You did well to defend the ship, but the rules are, no firearms aboard." Adena held out her hand. Zared shrugged and produced the pistol, handing it over to her butt-first with a twinkle in his eye she didn't care for. Adena raised her eyebrows when she saw the nature of the weapon. "This is some piece."

  "It sufficed."

  She ensured the weapon was safe and thrust it through her belt. "You'll get it back when we dock in Penumbra City."

  He gave her a polite smile which held a trace of mockery she didn't care for. "Whatever you say, Captain."

  She frowned but decided against arguing. Instead she gestured to Greg Cole to precede her back into the corridor. He'd begun to hobble toward the end of the sweep but had gamely kept up. She clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Thanks, Greg. Go rest up. We'll be landing soon."

  He looked relieved and headed back to his cabin while Adena went to hers.

  When Adena arrived, Mr. Phibuli was sitting on his perch, wings hunched, gaze fixed on some distant point. Adena stripped off her gloves and walked over to stand in front of him. "Is there something you're not telling me, old bird?"

  For a second he appeared not to hear. Adena knew the creature had keen hearing so she waited with growing impatience for him to react. Finally, he turned his head with a faint squeaking of bearings and regarded her. "No."

  Adena held his gaze. "Why don't I believe you?"

  The brass parrot merely turned his head away and went back to brooding. Adena flung up her hands in disgust and headed back to the bridge. She locked the door on the way out of her stateroom, knowing how easily Mr. Phibuli could bypass any lock — although she could never figure out how — but she wanted to make a point.

  The flight deck crew seemed subdued when she returned to her station. Adena put it down to post-adrenal comedown after the fight against the murriks. Jake looked around and saluted as she entered. "All posts report secured from combat, Cap'n. We're remaining on alert."

  "Good." She peered forward at the cityscape sliding by beneath. "How long until we reach the rendezvous?"

  Jake glanced at the chronometer. "Five minutes."

  Zared appeared on the flight deck, moving as silently as a dust devil whirling across a dark side plain. Greg Cole entered a few seconds behind him. Adena glanced at Zared's expression. The supercargo's face was inscrutable as he moved to the starboard observation blister. She shared a glance with Greg. He shook his head and eyed the other man's back.

  Something's not right there.

  Jake scanned the area with the binoculars. "Coming up on the rendezvous now, Cap'n. It appears to be a partially collapsed building."

  He stepped aside so Adena could take his place. She looked in the direction he pointed.

  A city block looked as if it had suffered severe bombardment during a war. Buildings were little more than shells, with the few walls remaining resembling broken teeth. One six-story building near the center of the block looked more substantial, three walls still standing and most of its roof beams intact. A litter of bricks and broken tiles surrounded it. As she watched, lights sprang up in the shadowy depths of the ruin, illuminating an empty void where floors once stood. A rudimentary docking tower stood at the far end.

  She looked around the others. "The invitation's obvious, ladies and gentlemen, but should we accept it?"

  Zared raised an eyebrow. "Of course. It is our rendezvous, Captain."

  Adena ignored him. The opinions that counted would come from her crew.

  Jake swept the flop of hair from his face and, after a moment, nodded. He looked reluctant. "We should stay on alert at all times, Cap'n. We go in that place, and we'll be boxed-in. No way to leave in a hurry."

  The other crew members nodded. Adena took a deep breath. "Understood. But we have a job to do." She glanced at Zared. He looked out at the cityscape, appearing totally unconcerned. "Mr. Dyer, take us in."

  Jake went to work. Oculus Nightingale descended, the engine note changing to a throaty growl and the beat of the props becoming more percussive as they slowed. Gravity shifted and swung beneath her feet. Adena clasped her hands behind her back and watched the operation. I hope I haven't just made a fatal mistake...

  Chapter 8

  A human — or close to human — crew worked the mooring tower. Adena looked at it doubtfully. It appeared a gimcrack apparatus, made from former crossbeams and scraps of metal; yet it accepted the great airship's docking probe with nothing more than a brief deep creak. The docking crew waved to the flight deck, making the sign to cut engines.

  Jake looked around. No trouble or danger threatened. Adena heard him emit a soft sigh of relief.

  "Secure engines," Jake said. "Shore party, prepare to disembark."

  She nodded to him. "Thank you, Mr. Dyer. Greg?"

  He limped over. She took his arm and steered him to the rear of the bridge where a junior officer secured the control board to dockside status. Adena waited for the woman to depart before turning to Greg. "Are you okay with going ashore?"

  "Yeah." He shrugged. "I have to find out what happened to Cathy."

  "I ask because it's not going to be easy for you facing Pure Bloods and their kin again, especially in this place."

  Greg gave a sour grin. "I'll survive."

  "I've no doubt. C'mon, then. Zared?"

  The supercargo turned away from staring out at the scene and nodded, falling into step behind Adena and Greg. She led the way off the flight deck and down to the hold where she pointed at the damaged door. "Once we've made contact and offloaded, I'm going to see if we can stay a while longer to effect repairs to that."

  Greg examined the damage. "Will the Pure Bloods allow it, Captain?"

  "They can be tricky, but I don't see why they shouldn't."

  Zared gave her a thin smile. "But they might see a reason why they shouldn't."

  Adena glared at him but bit her tongue. She gestured to the crew on duty to open the hatch. As soon as they'd opened it, Zared didn't wait for an invitation. He walked straight to the ramp made by the door and out into the huge extemporized hangar.

  The others followed, crew members staying alert by the cargo hatch, fingers on the triggers of air rifles and crossbows. Greg recognized the formidable Penny, the ventral gunner, as she stood scanning their surroundings. She saw him looking and gave him a friendly nod along with a once-over that was distinctly appraising.

  The door vibrated under Adena's feet as she walked down to the packed rubble floor of the hangar. As soon as she set foot on the ground a square of pale blue light appeared as a door opened in a shadowy corner. A party of five individuals emerged, one carrying a b
lue-shaded lantern on a pole, and walked toward them. Adena could make out the tall, willowy form of a Pure Blood and the hulking shapes of two Overseers. The remaining two people appeared human, or perhaps Quadsang. A smell compounded of burnt iron, cinnamon and male Pure Blood pheromones reached her nostrils. She twitched.

  The Pure Blood stopped about five paces away and stared at them all as if committing their faces to memory. For all Adena knew, the being was doing exactly that. It sneered at her.

  "I am Erinacht, of House Caronel. You have the goods?"

  Zared bowed to it with his hand on his heart. "We do, Excellency. Perhaps you'll permit us to bring it down for your inspection?"

  Erinacht gave a languid wave of his hand. "Do so."

  Zared bowed again and turned to signal the cargo bay crew. One by one they lowered ten crates from the confines of the hold, and one by one Erinacht inspected the seals. At his direction Zared opened each crate, revealing a mass of machine parts and tools nestling within straw packaging.

  Erinacht took his time and examined all the crates and most of the contents, picking them up to look them over. Adena waited with growing, but concealed impatience until he nodded satisfaction.

  "This is acceptable." He flicked a finger to one of the human slaves, a woman with mousy brown hair. Adena felt Greg tense. Without looking she grabbed his hand and held it, speaking to him in a low voice out the side of her mouth. "Don't!"

  He relaxed a bit. "It's not her."

  The woman bowed to Erinacht and handed him a large cloth bag. It clinked with a satisfying sound. Erinacht weighed the bag, his eyes on Zared. "Your payment, merchant."

  Zared bowed and reached for the bag as Erinacht held it out.

  A sound like a violin playing the note of C four octaves above middle C cut through the air, making her, Greg and the cargo crew wince. A violet flash lit the whole space of the hangar, casting walkways and gantries into stark relief. Someone screamed.

  Adena flinched and turned away, purple-green afterimages flaring across her vision. The straw in one of the crates exploded into the air, filling it with chaff. She looked back in time to see the space within and above the crate shimmer as if reality itself was turning inside-out.

  A smooth silver figure stood by the crate. Adena saw it had the curves of a woman with the merest suggestion of features. Two slight depressions where the eyes should be, a low bump and two indentations for a nose, a shallow horizontal crease for a mouth. Yet when it turned its head, she felt the power of an intense gaze.

  Erinacht clutched his eyes and emitted a low keening noise. The silver lady turned to look at him. Erinacht stopped keening, lowered his hands, and went rigid. Adena stared and shuddered. Erinacht's eyes had turned a milky white.

  The two Overseers overcame their shock. They roared and lurched into action, beefy arms and gnarled, clawed hands the size of hams clutching for the woman. Her form blurred then went still. The Overseers stopped in their tracks and disintegrated before them.

  Erinacht gave a shriek that almost matched the sound made by the silver being's appearance. Adena saw a look of sheer panic fill his aquiline face as he turned and ran for the door. In spite of his blindness, he ran a true path, reaching the door far quicker than any human could manage.

  The silver creature beat him to the door all the same. Erinacht couldn't stop himself running full-tilt into the circle of its arms. For a second it held him rigid in its clasp and sniffed him in a manner that seemed almost tender. Erinacht whimpered.

  The being put its mouth to the top of his head as if kissing it. Erinacht's blind eyes turned crimson, then, before Adena's horrified gaze, his flesh shrank onto his bones until the skin grew taut. The silver being released the husk that had once been a proud member of the Pure Blood race, letting it fall to the ground. For a second it gazed down at the remains then deliberately stamped on the skull, crushing it to shards.

  Greg recovered first. "What do we do?" he whispered.

  "To begin with, we don't attract its attention," she whispered back.

  The being glanced at them then turned and walked through the door without bothering to open it first. Pieces of wood clattered to the ground. Its departure released the people of Oculus Nightingale from their spell of horrified fascination.

  Adena looked around. Zared laid senseless on the ground, a large bruise on his forehead. The woman slave cowered in a silent fetal ball a few yards away. Adena gestured to them and turned to her crew. "Bring them aboard. Clap Zared in irons — he's got some explaining to do. See that she's looked after."

  Adena’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. "It's her lucky day — she just got freed."

  "What do we do, Adena?" Greg demanded.

  A distant scream sounded from beyond the shattered doorway. Adena looked at Greg. "You want to find your friend? Let's go get her. I think House Caronel has found other things to worry about."

  Scenes of devastation greeted Greg's eyes wherever he looked. Whatever the nature of the silver being, its purpose seemed clear — the total destruction of the Pure Bloods and their Overseer and Quadsang attendants.

  Most of the buildings they passed through were little more than shells. They reminded Greg of pictures he'd seen of World War II bomb sites, and the ruins of Stalingrad. As they went further, the buildings looked in better shape, some with furnishings in rooms and passageways as he and Adena passed through. Once they had to leap back as a wall collapsed with a heavy rumble of ancient masonry, dust flying thick in the air. Adena pulled a wrap of cloth about her face to mask her mouth. Greg had to hold his sleeve over his lips and nose.

  "How deep do you think that silver thing's going into this city?" Greg asked as they came to the base of a tower which seemed intact.

  "Until it's done what it needs to do or someone stops it." Adena paused at an archway and peered through. "Dear gods, I don't think it'll be done anytime soon."

  The archway gave onto a kind of guardroom. Scattered bodies covered the floor, none of them intact that Greg could see. The stench of blood filled the frigid air. A door beyond the room had been obliterated. Faint screams reached his ears, then ceased with disconcerting abruptness.

  Adena stared at one set of remains. "What is it?" he asked.

  She pointed at it. "It's what's left of a Pure Blood. I thought they were damned near invulnerable."

  Greg glanced at it. His stomach was far from delicate. Engineering work in the field had no place for those who would lose their lunch over a dead body or a mere bad smell; even so, he felt queasy. "That one learned otherwise. Can we go now?"

  She set her teeth and nodded. "Come on."

  They made their way through the shattered doorway and into a much larger chamber with a cross-vaulted ceiling three stories overhead. Banners bearing strange devices hung from staffs projecting from the walls. Trophies of arms filled the spaces between columns, and the whole chamber had a martial air.

  Greg saw a set of bloody footprints crossing the room toward a stairway in the opposite wall. "Well, I guess that's where it went next."

  Adena opened her mouth to reply but the sound of activity behind them stopped her. They turned as one to look back as a group of armed Quadsang guards headed by a Pure Blood woman with white upswept hair entered the chamber behind them.

  The woman glared, raised a slender hand, pointed and said, "Seize them!"

  Greg raised his pistol, but the guards moved faster. In the blink of an eye two of the swarthy creatures pointed silvery cylindrical devices at them. Metallic cords shot out the end of the cylinders and wrapped around Greg and Adena, holding them fast. Struggle as he might, Greg could not break free. A sharp tug brought him and Adena to their knees.

  "Take them away," the Pure Blood woman said with a flip of her hand. “The rest of you come with me."

  "That went well." Adena hung suspended by her wrists from manacles set in the solid stone wall of the cell.

  Greg raised his head. She saw his lip had been split from his stru
ggles as the guards dragged them to the holding area. A developing black eye colored the left side of his face. He glowered. "I dispute your definition of 'well,' Adena."

  "We're alive." She flexed her arms and shoulders, tried to move her legs as far as she could in the confines of the chains. Bruises and cuts announced their presence, but she couldn't feel any serious injuries. "For a Pure Blood, that's merciful."

  "I guess." He moved his jaw. "Those guards weren't too gentle, though."

  "Yes, but they could've worked us over far worse. They didn't have time to do so. I think our friendly silver girl is creating havoc in their midst, and they need all hands to deal with her."

  "What is that thing? It looked like something out of The Outer Limits."

  "I've no idea what you speak of, but if it involves killing machines, you're probably right."

  Greg cocked his head. "You don't think it's a living thing?"

  "No — well, not living as you or I would understand it. I have a hunch it's a relic from the Pure Bloods' past." She shook her head. "How Erasmus the merchant got hold of it I don't know, but he'll have some explaining to do when we get home."

  "You think we'll get home — your home, that is?"

  She forced a smile. "Never say die, Greg. I've been in worse situations."

  He grimaced. "I hate to think how much worse those situations were compared to this."

  "The scumbags could be torturing us right now."

  Greg sighed. "I guess."

  Adena took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "We will have to move, Greg. There's no percentage in lollygagging around in these chains much longer."

  "Lollygagging?" He sounded incredulous.

  Adena ignored him. She craned her neck to peer up at the chains where they'd been looped through a staple in the wall a couple of feet above her head. The staple showed clear signs of corrosion. She tightened her grip on the chain and lifted her feet off the ground, putting weight on the staple. It creaked and flakes of damp cinnamon-red rust fell about her head and shoulders. Greg watched her movements with hope on his face. She assayed a tight smile and set her feet on the ground.