Balance of Terror (11 page)

It wasn’t difficult to pick up the warning in his tone.

“Not us,” Srin replied.

By unspoken consent, they began strolling the circumference of the camp. A few robed figures stopped to watch them for a second before moving on.

“No children,” Moon commented quietly.

“And only a few women,” Srin added. “This would appear to be a purpose-built encampment.”

“You think the only reason it’s here is to give Gauder a rendezvous point?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. A planet like this? Makes sense to be nomadic, opportunistic. Maybe even underground.”

“And far from here,” Moon added.

“That’s right. In case there’s a raid, only some of the men get arrested.”

They stopped for a moment to watch the sun set, its huge red orb sinking and seeming to flatten on the horizon before continuing its downward descent.

“I don’t like this dependence on one person,” Moon remarked, keeping her voice low.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like Gauder.”

She laughed softly. “Am I that obvious?”

“He’s not my favourite person either,” Srin replied, “but he seems to know his way around this planet. And your friend was right. He’s definitely not a Republic sympathiser.”

“Ever heard the expression, ‘out of the hot pod, into the lava’? I’m feeling exactly like that right now. I may not have trusted the Fodox pirates who brought us to Marentim, but they’re as transparent as sheets of glass next to our enigmatic arms dealer.”

Beyond the bare bones of their conversation, Moon didn’t want to mention the aborted physical contact she and Gauder had shared over the camp fire two weeks ago. He hadn’t repeated the action, but Moon felt his gaze following her around, as heavy as a physical touch. It made her feel…uncomfortable. She had never thought of herself as a particularly attractive woman. It had been Srin who made her feel alive and feminine. And now Gauder was looking at her as if she was some prize in an exhibits’ case. Whatever the reason for it – maybe he spent too much time traversing the deserts instead of flirting with female friends – Moon didn’t want any of it.

“I understand how you feel,” Srin said, gripping her hand, “but we’re out of choices at the moment.” He glanced at her. “Unless you have a plan kicking around in that fertile mind of yours.”

“It all boils down to money,” Moon said wryly. “Get enough money and
we
make the decisions, rather than being buffeted by forces that I don’t completely trust.” She didn’t add that money would also be a good solution to solving Srin’s condition.

“Sure, but we’d still have to get off this planet and to 3 Enkil IV somehow. At the moment, our travelling salesman appears to be our best bet.”

Moon didn’t like the answer, but couldn’t deny the logic of Srin’s conclusion. Silently, they traced a lazy path back to the encampment, just in time for the feast that Gauder had told them about.

“There yer are. C’mon over here and make yerselves comfortable. Chiefy has a good meal prepared.”

Because he appeared the lesser of two evils, both of them settled next to Gauder for dinner. The thirty or so members of the camp congregated, mostly in silence, and sat cross-legged in a large circle, facing a central bonfire. The brightness of the flames eclipsed the faint light of dusk.

When her eyes acclimatised to the semi-darkness, Moon noticed that some of the bare earth next to the bonfire was smoking. She only had time to frown at it before four locals approached that area, scraping at the sand with their paddle-shaped hands.

Beside them, Gauder smacked his lips. “Yer in fer a treat tonight. Chiefy has put on the planet special. Said he knew that I’d be comin’ today with powerful gifts for his men.”

“That sounds good,” Srin agreed urbanely. “But what exactly is the planet special?”

“Been feelin’ hungry, have ye?” He rubbed a meaty hand across his mouth. “Not that I blame yer. Smells mighty fine, don’t it?”

They watched as the men continued digging into the ground, only stopping when they reached a depth of about a metre. The smoke became more pronounced, wreathing the humanoid figures in thick tendrils of grey-white. The scientist in Moon wondered how they could handle the obviously hot earth with their bare hands, but they seemed to show no discomfort, no reaction at all to the elevated temperature.

A breeze wafted some of the smoke over to where they sat and Moon breathed in deep. She smelt smoke and the savoury undertone of meat, overlaid with a spice mixture. The aroma wasn’t unpleasant, but she couldn’t reconcile it with the images unfolding in front of her.

The alien fighters pulled out something long and heavy wrapped in a canvas-type material – for a moment, Moon thought of a corpse and swallowed hard – and gingerly laid it on flat ground between the pit and the bonfire. The chief of the men, wearing a headdress that appeared to be made from the bones of an animal, moved up, directing the action. Moon, fascinated, continued watching, still unsure of how to reconcile a meal with the sandy package slowly being unwrapped.

In the flickers from the fire, an entire roasted animal was revealed. With an abrupt order and a hand gesture, the chief commanded two of the fighters to bring something. The pair disappeared into a nearby hut and emerged minutes later with a stack of metal plates. With skill, they formed a line, passing plates along, getting them filled with the torn and steaming meat of the barbecued animal, then handing them to four youths who distributed it to those around them.

It took another ten minutes before Moon got her serving of the food. She looked down at the rags of roasted flesh with wide yes. It had come out of the
ground
! Covered in cloth, ash and dust and who knew what else. Kicked over while multiple hands tore at bones, muscle and sinew.

“I…I don’t know if I can eat this,” she whispered.

Gauder appeared to grin and motioned her to talk to him, leaning back so they were partially hidden by Srin’s figure between them. Once he was sure he had Moon’s attention, he wiped the merriment from his face.

“Ye can play high-and-mighty with me, lady scientist,” he grated, “and I don’t mind it, but yer’ll not be doin’ it with this mob. Like most desert folk, they take the ideas of food ‘n’ hospitality very seriously. So ye’ll be hunkerin’ down, and eatin’ that bloody food and likin’ each morsel yer put in that pretty mouth o’ yours. Understand?”

Moon stared at him for a long moment, then flicked her gaze sideways. They were being watched by several of the locals. She straightened, sat back up and, with trembling fingers, picked up a small piece of flesh.

“Believe it or not,” Srin told her, “it tastes quite nice.”

Moon put the food in her mouth and slowly chewed. It’s just like the vat meat I used to eat, she told herself. It’s just been cooked differently.

Cooked in the earth.

Wrapped in a type of cloth. Porous cloth.

Covered in ash.

She swallowed with some difficulty and was never so happy to see a cup of liquid as when a young fighter brought around a tray of drinks, the containers’ hard shells frosty and slippery with cold. Between discreet sips and not really focusing on what it was she was eating, Moon thought she got through the meal with Gauder’s sense of goodwill intact.

The clean-up of the area was done as efficiently as the portioning out of food. One minute, there were diners, some reclining on the ground, conversing and laughing with plates and cups between them. The next moment, the earth was bare, and the fighters sat, erect and expectant, as the bonfire burnt down.

Gauder rose and walked over to the leader, where they exchanged some dialogue. Moon could barely catch the words that were in a language she didn’t know. Whatever was being discussed was obviously concluded to the satisfaction of both parties. Both men touched their open palms against the other’s for a second, an obvious signal, then the dinner broke up.

“They can go gabbin’ on fer hours if yer let them,” Gauder explained as he approached Moon and Srin. “But we’re outsiders and they don’t celebrate a long feast while they’re still on a hunt. Says it can bring bad spirits. The Republic, in this case.”

“Yes, I was wondering about that,” Srin remarked, staring off towards the southern horizon.

The other two followed the line of his gaze, and saw a dot of light in the distance. It moved up and down in the sky in a methodical but inexplicable series of manoeuvres.

“That’s from Hawsook Base,” Gauder said. “They take their shuttles out ‘n’ run ‘em through their paces every month, testing for performance and system integrity.”

“Can’t they see our fire?” Moon asked in alarm. “Will they be sending those ships in our direction?”

“Not t’ worry yer pretty head, lady scientist. Security Force knows that it’s more than their lives are worth to come out to the Open. Wouldn’t want valuable transports landin’ in the hands o’ the natives, would they? And they know that’s what would happen if they set one booted foot on the sand in these parts.”

“A hundred and eight-four,” Srin mused, “give or take.”

Gauder frowned down on him. “Eh?”

“The equation for that shuttle’s movements.
t
cubed minus thirty
t
squared plus one hundred and fifty-three
t
plus – yes, I think it is – one hundred and eighty-four.”

Gauder stared at him. “The equation? Ye can calculate where that infernal machine is going next?”

“It’s not difficult.” Srin shrugged his shoulders. “They must be on a standard flight plan of some sort. It’s just deciphering what that flight plan is.”

“And ye can figure it out? Jes’ by lookin’ at it?”

“Call it a gift of mine.” Srin appeared to come to a decision. “I can figure out the velocity and acceleration of that shuttle at any point if you’d care to suggest a reference mark.”

Moon wasn’t sure what to think of the exchange. Was it a good or bad thing to share Srin’s ability with the arms dealer?

“Reference mark, yer say?”

“Make it perpendicular to the horizon, as much as possible, passing through one of the background stars.”

“All right,” Gauder said, with a tone that suggested he was placing a wager. “How about that star there?” He pointed to a bright twinkle to the right and above of the shuttle’s current position.

“Sounds good. Let’s watch.”

Several seconds later, the shuttle sped past the imaginary line.

“Three point six handspans per second,” Srin notified them promptly, “with an acceleration of zero point seven eight handspans per second per second.”

“Handspans?” Gauder guffawed. “What kind of cockeyed measure is a bloody handspan?”

Srin turned and eyed the arms trader. “The measure you have when you haven’t accurately specified the distance to the base or the size of the ship.”

“Bloody parlour tricks,” Gauder grumbled but he kept throwing speculative glances in Srin’s direction as the trio got ready for bed.

“That might not have been such a good idea,” Moon remarked as they unfolded their bedrolls. With part of the cargo unloaded and sold, there was more room on the bay’s floor for them to sleep. The area might have been dusty but it was still a lot safer than sleeping outside, as Gauder claimed he did. It was bad enough thinking of dust, ash and bacteria mixing in with her food, but the thought of nocturnal life-forms crawling over her unconscious body was enough to give Moon the shivers.

“I needed to know if I could still do it.” Srin fluffed up two pillows then neatly stripped down and lowered himself onto one thin mattress. “Was the price for my restored memory my inability to do lightning-fast calculations ever again?”

She mirrored his actions, after checking to make sure that the cargo door was locked. When she slipped under the thin blanket next to him, Srin drowsily snuggled against her.

“I’d say you answered that question categorically,” she murmured into the darkness, but the sound of deep, regular breathing told her that Srin was already asleep. She gently kissed his cheek as she caressed his chest, then turned over and made herself comfortable.

Chapter Nine

“I have ter say, I don’t think it’s fair on yer, lady scientist.”

Moon looked at Gauder over the remains of their lunch. Their night-time feast at the sand-camouflaged rendezvous point had been two days ago and, in the intervening time, Srin’s condition had slowly deteriorated. Moon wanted to kick herself for succumbing to the temptation of mixing stimulants with her usual cocktail of drugs, but Srin had appeared to respond so well. Too well, she realised darkly.

“I mean to say,” Gauder continued, “it just appears more than a little strange, if yer know what I mean.”

“No,” she replied steadily. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Srin had fallen into a deep sleep the previous night and had only regained consciousness for brief periods in the morning before slipping once more into slumber. The only piece of good news was that their guide seemed to be right. They hardly saw any Republic patrols, except on the horizon, near where the blaze of cities glowed in the night sky.

“He’s obviously a smart man, I can see that clearly, but whatever’s wrong with him is too much for one woman to handle. That’s my observation.”

“Is it?”

He nodded. “Ah reckon so. Makes a simple man like me do some thinking.”

He shifted and reached for a slice of dried meat, offering it to her in a gesture that was solicitous. “Makes me wonder what a pretty – and smart – woman like you is doin’ with someone like him. Riskin’ yer lives outrunning the Republic. Bein’ forced to travel half a planet in disguise.” He paused for a moment, obviously waiting for a response.

Moon continued staring at him.

“He’s a good enough worker, but he’s fallin’ apart, ain’t he? And getting’ on in years.”

Gauder’s pale gaze searched her features. “It’s his brain, ain’t it? Whatever’s in his head is what the Republic’s after.”

The old Moon Thadin would have laughed in Gauder’s face. “In
his
head?” she would have said. “You’re only half-right, Mr. Gauder. What the Republic is after is in
both
our heads. His abilities and mine. A double act.”