Marauder (19 page)

Certainly no one seemed to believe it was all an accident.
Someone
had brought this about, just as Avilon – and Sifra – had arrived in 82 Eridani, with uncanny timing.

Ever since encountering Luiz, Megan had wondered just what connection Sifra and Otto Schelling might have forged with the Freehold. Because if anyone stood to benefit from a catastrophe like
this, it would be the latter.

Megan hit Aguirre’s streets swaddled in warm padded clothing, her face hidden behind a stylish breather mask. She jumped on a tram that creaked its way through dusty
streets, its barely functional AI squawking out the names of each district they traversed through a damaged grille. Everywhere she looked, she saw people piling goods into the rear of vans and
trucks. There were long queues on the main roads out of the city, and a constant stream of ground-to-air vehicles lifting up above the rooftops.

Megan sat back anxiously and glanced around the tram, realizing that, apart from herself, it was deserted. She watched some of the vehicle’s peeling flicker-posters, which displayed
stylized animations of menacing figures adorned with Freehold tattoos placing bombs in public places or slaughtering busloads of children with equal enthusiasm. It wasn’t hard now to guess
what Aguirre’s citizens were running from.

She disembarked on the furthest edge of the Rook and made her way inside a single-storey building, also owned by Sarbakshian. Passing through a pressure field that separated the native
atmosphere from that inside, she peeled off her mask and found herself in the nondescript foyer of what purported to be a trade and economics consultancy. It was completely deserted, and there was
a fine layer of dust evident on the single desk it contained.

As instructed, she made her way down a dark and dank staircase at the rear of the foyer, until she reached a security door at the bottom. Light flickered in her eyes for a moment, and then the
door swung open with a gentle click.

Megan passed through a second pressure field: the air was now warm and moist and slightly perfumed. She looked around, seeing that the entire lower level was open plan in layout. Pillars
supporting the building above were artfully concealed behind clusters of ivy, while grass crunched beneath her boots. One or two tiny yellow birds fluttered from the branches of potted trees. She
could almost have been in one of the cloistered gardens of Morgan’s World. The illusion was marred, however, by a number of crates stacked here and there, with their contents spilling
out.

She felt sweat beading on her forehead and pulled off her heavy coat before making her way towards a set of divans arranged around a low table at the centre of this open space. Arrayed on the
table were tiny silver bowls filled with what passed for delicacies on Redstone.

Sarbakshian himself, looking tired and grizzled, sat on an upholstered chair to one side of the table, the invisibly narrow band of a data interface pressing against his long and unkempt hair.
He waggled a finger towards one of the divans, without even looking at her; his attention was clearly focused elsewhere.

She took a seat and waited until the man finally pulled off his interface, dropping it onto the table between them with a sigh. He leaned back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes
for several seconds, then dropped them back in his lap before giving her a smile.

‘Long day?’ she asked.

‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ he replied, in a monotone. ‘Everyone’s getting out.’

‘I noticed. Why?’

He eyed her with an expression of disbelief. ‘You’re kidding me. The Freehold is on the way here. They want Redstone back.’

‘No, I haven’t heard anything about that. I mean, there were some rumours floating around the Tabernacle, but . . .’

Sarbakshian laughed unpleasantly. ‘Rumours? More than rumours, my dear. People know exactly what’s going down. Now that the Demarchy’s been effectively wiped out, it’s
only a matter of time before a bunch of crazy tattooed Freehold bastards turn up here in Aguirre, armed to the teeth and claiming ownership. And once they’ve finished with the Sacerdotal
Demarchy of Uchida, their neighbours, the River Concord States, will be next.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ she asked, her tone clearly sceptical.

‘Does it matter?’ Sarbakshian shrugged sadly. ‘I go where the business is, and Aguirre is fast turning into a ghost town.’ He tapped the fingers of one hand against an
armrest, studying her carefully. ‘You know, I was more than a little surprised about the way you turned up here without any warning. I’d already heard a rumour you were
retiring.’

She thought for a moment. ‘It was more that I decided to take a career break.’

He looked amused. ‘And do drug smugglers
take
career breaks?’

‘This one does.’ She licked her lips. ‘Look, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve—’

He waved a hand. ‘We’ve got a lot of history between us, Megan, and even criminals like you and me have to trust someone. You asked for help, and I gave it, but that doesn’t
mean it’s free.’

‘I know I owe you.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘And also for the information you asked me to get.’ He made a practised gesture in the air. ‘
Especially
for that.’

Glyphs appeared in the air by his hand, and Sarbakshian reached out to touch one of them. It quivered momentarily before expanding to reveal several screeds of data.

‘Regarding your friend Anil Sifra,’ said Sarbakshian, ‘his dropship is still docked with the
Liberia
.’

‘That’s
all
?’ she shook her head. ‘I’m paying you to tell me
that
?’

‘Look, everything’s changed since the flood. The Accord has investigators operating all over Aguirre. It knows it’s been caught napping, and badly, so when it’s not
dealing with the disaster, it’s trying to limit other kinds of damage – primarily political. That means it’s watching people like you and me very, very closely. I have a contact
on the
Liberia
, but common bribery isn’t working nearly as well as it did just a couple of days ago.’ He squinted as if in pain. ‘And, much as I hesitate to sully our
friendship with such a mundane and lowly matter, there does regretfully remain the matter of recompensing those very individuals who are taking it upon themselves to watch over your friend at
considerable personal risk.’ At this, he pressed one hand over his heart, and flashed her a grin.

Megan regarded him coolly. ‘I already told you, I’m good for it.’

Sarbakshian nodded and waved the glyphs away. ‘We’ll discuss that more in a moment. First, however, I would very much like to know if you intend to kill this man Sifra.’

‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Sabby.’

‘But it
is
my business,’ he insisted. ‘Sifra is well known, since he’s closely linked to the former TSA’s First Families. Those are very powerful people,
Megan. If they were to realize I aided you in killing one of their own, who would be able to protect me from them? You?’

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You didn’t forget that I’m a machine-head, did you? You do understand I have a pretty good idea of just how much firepower you’ve got
stashed all around this lair of yours? Not to mention those three men who followed me here after I disembarked from the tram.’

For a moment, Sarbakshian looked startled, but he recovered quickly, slapping his knee and laughing loudly in a manner that was only slightly less than convincing.

‘However, I’m not going to pay you in money,’ she declared, ‘but in knowledge.’

Sarbakshian’s expression clouded. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

It was her turn to make a gesture in the air. She wafted a tiny glowing star towards Sarbakshian, who caught it with ease. He glanced at her impatiently, then glanced down at his open palm. Data
flowered around him.

She watched as he sorted through the contents of the data package she had just given him, examining first the technical data and then the financial projections. She knew how he had been a
communications engineer in a previous life, and so would immediately understand what he was looking at.

When he finally waved it all away, some minutes later, he wore a rather dazed expression.

‘There’s no way to maintain that level of coherence,’ he said hoarsely, ‘over that kind of distance, using tach-net communications technology. It simply isn’t
possible.’

‘You’ll be able to license that data towards the development of a new generation of tach-net nodes, with minimal to zero signal loss and at a fraction of the current cost, reaching
all the way across the Accord. It’ll be the start of a second revolution in faster-than-light communications technology, and you won’t have to waste your time just scrabbling for a
living on this pissant world or any other, Sabby.’

He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘What the hell are you doing smuggling
sans de sezi
when you have access to something like this? You could be richer than the Schellings, or
even the Besters.’

‘I don’t like to attract attention,’ she said. ‘And if I myself tried to use that information to make money, I would most definitely get the wrong kind of
attention.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Put it this way: I’ve been saving it towards a rainy day, for a very long time.’

He shook his head. ‘There’s something about you that’s always intrigued me, Megan Jacinth. You’re the proverbial mystery wrapped inside an enigma. You came out of nowhere
. . . I have no idea where you even got your implants.’

She looked at him, surprised. ‘You’ve been looking into me?’

‘I look into everybody,’ he said. ‘I trust people, but I’m no fool. I don’t rely just on gut instinct. I had the feeling that one of these days I was going to find
out something surprising about you, but never anything like this. Why me, Megan? And why now?’

‘For one thing, it’s going to take years before that data starts paying out, and I can’t wait that long.’ She took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I need a ship,
Sabby – one that can keep me alive for months, preferably years. You’re the only person I can think of who could possibly find me one at short notice.’

He began to chuckle, the sound dying on his lips when he noticed her expression. ‘Oh, my God,’ he said. ‘You’re serious.’

‘And it has to be equipped with a nova drive,’ she added.

His smile faded entirely. ‘Now I do know you’re crazy. You just can’t
buy
a ship like that.’

‘Back in the old days,’ she said, ‘the Three Star Alliance had a couple of small, nova-equipped scout ships used for exploration and mapping. One or two of them are still
missing, since the Accord’s never been able to find them.’ She paused for effect. ‘But in fact I know they’re being used to transport
sans de sezi
all across the
colonies.’

Sarbakshian paled. ‘How could you know about . . . ?’

‘Except the cost of maintaining them was too high,’ she continued, ‘not to mention the fact that they became so hot to handle that you and your partners couldn’t even
offload the damn nova drives they contained.’ She shrugged. ‘Did I get any of the details wrong?’

Sarbakshian looked haggard and defeated suddenly, shrinking into his seat. ‘I should kill you,’ he muttered.

‘You could,’ she agreed. ‘But you won’t, because you’ll assume I’ve made arrangements for everything I know about those missing ships to be transmitted to the
relevant authorities if I don’t check in at a certain time and place.’

‘I have people who could torture that information out of you.’

‘I know you, Sabby. You don’t work that way. You never have. And you’ve been looking for a way out of this business for a long time. Or so you told me the last time you talked
me into bed, back on Corkscrew.’

She saw all the fight go out of him.

‘Fine,’ he said, waving one hand. ‘The ships were a dreadful investment – one of my worst. They nearly bankrupted me.’

‘So do we have a deal?’

‘Yes, damn you. We have a deal.’ Sarbakshian’s gaze dipped momentarily towards her chest. ‘We’d make a wonderful team, you and I. You have the body of an angel, and
the mind of a hungry snake. Maybe if you stuck around . . .’

‘I wish I could, Sabby. But I owe a favour to another old friend.’

Sarbakshian shook his head and leaned over the table, to pick up a pitcher full to the brim with a pale liquid that smelled faintly of flowers. ‘Then, unless you’re really in a
hurry, how about a drink to old times?’

‘Sabby.’

Megan watched him, with her head propped up on one elbow, as Sarbakshian coughed violently and rolled onto his back, swallowing with evident difficulty. Although the bedroom was dimly lit, she
could see that when he opened his eyes they were rimmed with red, while his face was pale and bloodless. There was no sign of the lusty energy he’d demonstrated just a few short hours before,
when she had allowed him to believe he was seducing her.

‘God damn you, look at you,’ he said, staring at her. ‘How does
anyone
drink that much and wake up without a hangover?’

‘Another benefit of being a machine-head,’ she said. ‘Full functional control of the diuretic system, the increased ability to process alcohol – so no
hangovers.’

He thought for a second. ‘So were you only faking becoming drunk last night?’

‘You’ll never know,’ she said, and nodded past him. ‘I woke you up because you have an alert, and it looks like an urgent one.’

Sarbakshian twisted his head the other way to see a pale red globe floating by his bedside. He reached out and touched it, and it vanished like a soap bubble. Whatever it was must have been
private, because she could see nothing more. ‘It’s your friend Sifra,’ Sarbakshian grunted. ‘He’s on the move. His dropship’s just departed the
Liberia
.’

Megan pulled herself out of the bed and looked around for her clothes. ‘Any idea where he’s heading?’ she asked, finding and pulling on her underwear.

‘I had someone put a tracking device on that ship of his, and it’s heading east.’ Sarbakshian frowned. ‘Well, well.’