The Darkness of God: Book Three of the Shadow Warrior Trilogy (20 page)

“No,” Wolfe said.

“But what about that tarantula’s brother?”

“I’d rather worry about him than somebody from that village who might be airborne with a snooper and an air-to-ground. Bugs are maybe — heatseekers are for sure,” Wolfe said.

“Oh well,” Chesney said. He took the rather fancy coat that was the only rainproof he had out of his pack, and rolled himself up in it. “Mrs. Chesney’s favorite son wasn’t meant to sleep rough,” he complained. “I’ll be tossing and turning till dawn.”

Wolfe found a rock, zipped into his waterproof coat, and put the rifle across his knees. Moments later, Chesney’s breathing grew into a whiffling snore, his beard ruffling like a sail. Wolfe grinned wryly.

Breathe … breathe …

He
felt
the Lumina, back in the
Resolute, felt
it flame. He
reached
out, around them
, felt
nothing, no one. He let his senses flow, like lava, over the next crest, down the long slope to the sea, toward the village where the SAMs had been, far distant.

He
felt
people,
felt
warmth, warmth of their homes, their fires. He tasted hard cold metal, like blood, and knew the Inspectorate and its missiles were waiting. He
felt
its outposts,
felt
men worried about the morrow, worried about the patrols that would range into the mountains, looking for enemies.

Joshua brought himself back and listened to Chesney’s measured snore. He
felt
the night around him,
felt
no menace.

He
felt
another presence,
felt
fright somewhere below, somewhere in the valley they’d traverse in the day. His hand drew a line toward it in the dirt. He tried to
feel
how many there were, what they looked like, what they thought — he failed.

He opened his eyes and looked at the line he’d drawn. It followed the same azimuth he was trying to hold to, toward where the two lines from the radio-locator on the map came together.

Suddenly exhausted, he sagged back against the rock. Rain pattered on his head, and he pulled the hood of his coat up. The rain grew harder.
Sleep now,
he told his body.
Feel nothing.

• • •

Joshua came fully awake, hearing a voice. The rain had stopped. He didn’t move, but his finger slid the safety off the rifle. Then he realized the speaker was Chesney. He was speaking clearly, in a low voice, but in a strange, affected accent: “My dear chap … I have utterly
no
idea what you’re talking about. No, I can’t say I see any resemblance to me and this horrid boy, so stop waving that holograph in front of me. Absurd to so accuse a Federation officer!”

Wolfe was about to shake him awake,
but felt
no danger, no threat in the surrounding blackness. Chesney sighed, rolled over, snored twice, then spoke again: “Certainly not! I’ve been too busy, what with the peacetime closures around this base, to even breathe. I certainly didn’t know she’d taken a — a lover. I’m completely shattered. Good heavens, man, can’t you recognize the obvious? It must’ve been some back-alley goon that tried to rob them, and things went terribly awry. I must say I object to this entire line of questioning, and wish to notify my commanding officer I seem to be in need of legal assistance.”

Once more a long silence, then: “Certainly not guilty, Admiral.”

Now his voice went low, became a conspiratorial mutter: “Yes. Yes, of course. It’d be an utter disgrace for an innocent man like myself to be a convicted — disgraceful for the service, as well. You have no idea how I appreciate this. Yes, yes. And I thought you didn’t believe me, when I told you what must’ve happened to her and that man … Of course I’ll make sure I never come back here, or have anything to do with the Navy. Why should I? These fools have tried and convicted me.”

Then, in a gloating voice: “Trevor? You were wrong. Quite wrong.”

Chesney laughed chillingly, then his breathing choked, and Wolfe knew he was awake. Joshua took in a slow breath, let it rasp against the roof of his mouth, and exhaled noisily.

“Wolfe?”

Joshua snorted, coughed. “What?”

“I — just wanted to know if you were awake,” Chesney whispered. “Sometimes my — my snoring bothers people.”

“Not me,” Wolfe said, in a carefully sleep-filled voice. “I can sleep through the crack of doom.”

“Good,” Chesney said. “Goodnight again.”

Wolfe knew he wasn’t sleeping, but listening.

Finally Wolfe’s mind, drunken monkey that it was, gave him what he’d been looking for on Merrett Chesney. There’d been three separate tabloid sensations. First a war hero, a special operations veteran of many close-fought engagements, was accused of murdering his wife and her lover.

Then a second scandal broke. The hero had been keeping a terrible secret. His real name wasn’t Chesney, but … Wolfe’s mind sought for the name but couldn’t bring it up. A rich youth, parents near the top of their planet’s social set. The boy had been unhappy, but seemed to settle down once he was placed in a military school. During one summer leave, there’d been an explosion at the family’s mansion, an explosion that was at first blamed on a faulty power grid. Further investigation had found the blast came from a land mine stolen from a military depot that’d somehow been set off in the house.

Wolfe tried to remember how many had been killed. He couldn’t, but he was sure the family had been obliterated, except for the son, who’d been out with a girl that night. But he had refused to name her, refused to soil her reputation. There’d been a trial, but the jury couldn’t quite convict him of murder in the first degree, and it settled on a secondary charge. The boy would have served five E-years or so before he was released and disappeared.

That had been the end of that — until that highly decorated Federation Navy commander, Merrett Chesney, had been accused of murder. Investigation revealed he’d fraudulently enlisted at the beginning of the war. He’d been a model sailor, quickly commissioned and volunteered for special operations, although there’d been whispers he wasn’t averse to enriching himself if it didn’t interfere with his duties.

Chesney had married well during the war and, as soon as the Al’ar vanished, set to work spending his wife’s inheritance. When the money began to run out, both developed wandering eyes. Then the wife and one of her lovers had been murdered — beaten to death, as Wolfe remembered.

The third sensation was after Chesney was convicted. Before the penalty phase of the trial was completed, he’d escaped, with the connivance of at least one fellow officer. That officer’s body had been found next to a hangar where a patrol ship had been kept, a ship that was now missing.

No one had much time to look for Chesney: The postwar interregnum was swirling chaos. Everyone assumed he’d fled to the Outlaw Worlds and hopefully met a deserved fate.

Nice choice of partners, Wolfe,
Joshua thought wryly.
Maybe I
should
have stayed on Ak-Mechat VII.

• • •

“Do not move,” the voice said.

Joshua stopped in midstep, let his boot ease to the ground.

The woman came out of the brush. Her clothes were worn but clean, her face dirt-streaked, although that might’ve been an attempt at camouflage. She held an old sporting rifle ready, and Joshua noted it was very clean.

He’d sensed someone ahead for about five minutes, just after they’d struck the path they were following. “Freedom,” he said.

“Or death,” the woman answered, but the gun stayed leveled.

“We have what you’ve bought,” Chesney said, moving a hand toward the case he was lugging, freezing when the gun barrel was focused on the middle of his chest.

“Put down the rifle, and unfasten your gun belts,” the woman ordered.

They obeyed. A man came from the other side of the path and picked up their weapons.

“Are they carrying any communications gear?”

The man patted them down hastily, eyes meeting Wolfe’s nervously, then looking away. “Nothing,” he said. “But in that case …”

“'Don’t open it,” the woman and Chesney said in near unison. Wolfe grinned, and a smile almost made it to the woman’s lips.

The man shrank back as if it were a tarafny.

“You,” the woman said, indicating Wolfe with her gun barrel. “Carry it. You go first.”

Joshua picked up the case, slung the strap over his shoulder, and started off.

Ten minutes later, the woman pushed aside brush, and they went up a narrow, skillfully camouflaged side track. The ground had been planted with a tough grass that didn’t show bootprints.

They came to a creek about five feet wide and crossed it on the flattened chunk of alloy that served as a bridge. There was a sentry on the other side, young, alert. He looked at Wolfe and Chesney with an expression somewhere between hostility and awe.

They entered the camp. There was a rocky cliff, with a protruding rock shelf that covered the entrance to a low cave that went back for almost fifty feet. There were at least twenty men and women in the camp. A man came out of the cave. “You can call me Andros.”

Joshua’s lips quirked. “I’m tempted to introduce myself as Homme. But I’m John Taylor. This is — Archibald Tuesday.” Chesney frowned for a minute, then recovered.

“Good,” Andros said. “No one needs real names until the war is over.”

“Sometimes not even then,” Wolfe said.

“True. But we do not plan on taking our planet in the direction of Messieurs Dzhugashvili and Ulyanov.”

Chesney was puzzled, not understanding what Wolfe and Andros were talking about. The woman had a faint smile on her face.

“I assume that is what we are paying so dearly for?” Andros indicated the case.

“It is.”

“Very, very good. Now the tide will be on the turning.”

• • •

It was just after dark. The rebels had prepared a meal while Chesney and Wolfe washed at the creek. For guerrillas, Chesney said, they ate like gourmets. Fish wrapped and baked in an aromatic leaf, three kinds of unknown vegetables, a meat that tasted like pork dipped in a fiery sauce, then fruit. They drank a cool herbal tea. Their plates and utensils were military-issue plas.

Joshua and Chesney sat just outside the cave mouth with Andros and the woman who’d been introduced as Esperansa. Their guns and packs had been returned and now lay beside them. The other rebels were farther back in the cave, talking quietly over the remains of their meal. There were around forty now, about half of the band, Andros said. The others were out on patrols or staked out on ambushes on the other side of the ridge. “By rights,” Andros said, “we should have had a roaring fire and a feast. But infrared detectors have taken the romance out of being a guerrilla.”

“Never mind,” Wolfe said. “Neither of us believe in parties when we’re working.” He looked around the cave.

“Something I’m curious about. You’re not planning on assembling the — device here, are you?”

Esperansa laughed aloud. “No, Mister Taylor. Not here. But I shall not tell you where I’ll work.”

“Don’t want to know,” Joshua said amiably. “The only thing I’d like to know is the recipe for that pig we just ate.”

“Pig?” Andros looked puzzled. “Oh. You mean the baked tarafny?”

Chesney sat suddenly upright, eyes wide.

“We think it’s quite fair. The tarafny tries to eat us,” Andros said, pretending not to notice Chesney’s dismay, “so we eat it first.”

“Never mind about the recipe,” Joshua said. “I don’t think, assuming the tarafny is the same charmer we encountered on the trail, it’d be very practical to keep a cageful aboard a starship. Now, perhaps we should talk business?”

Andros poured himself another glass of tea. “Certainly.” He turned. “El-Vah,” he called. “Would you bring me that brown envelope that’s in my bedroll?”

A young man came out of the cave carrying the fat envelope. He was armed with a pistol. He gave Wolfe and Chesney a cold look and sat down a few feet to the side.

“Let me ask something first,” Andros said. “You two are quite a team. When the Inspectorate sprung their trap, we were just outside the village. We saw your ship and knew you were doomed. But you escaped their missiles and came back through their midst, showing your contempt for the swine. I’ve never seen or heard of such piloting, such skill. Our cause would be greatly helped if we had an attack craft such as yours, with you two piloting it. We could strike real terror in the pigs we’ve sworn to destroy.”

“How much?” Chesney asked flatly. “I come expensive, especially since there’d be only one of me, which makes it easier for them to pick a target. And my friend here isn’t cheap, either. I won’t tell you who he really is, but he was a high-ranking commando officer during the Al’ar War, and has great skills fighting on the land as well as in the air.”

“Ah?” Andros considered Wolfe. “We could certainly use a master tactician, someone to train our recruits, perhaps lead us in raids until our own officers gain greater experience.”

“Is anyone planning on asking me if I’m interested?” Wolfe asked.

“I don’t know if you would be,” Andros said. “For I must tell you what we’re paying for that package you brought from Bulnes practically bankrupts our treasury here on Osirio. You would have to wait for payment until our coffers are replenished from Bulnes, or from some of our out-system supporters. Not that we would be ungenerous. We would pay what we could now, and give ten times that once the Inspectorate has fallen.”

“I’ve got other commitments,” Joshua said. “Sorry.”

“I don’t have anything in the fire right now,” Chesney said. “But one thing a freelancer can’t do is fight on the if-come. People have a tendency to forget about what they owe once they’ve won. Wasn’t it Machiavelli who suggested a lord who actually paid his mercenaries any other way than by the sword was a damned fool?”

“I understand,” Andros said. “And I am sorry we could not afford your further services. So here are the credits we were able to raise.” He held out the envelope.

“
Able
to raise?” Chesney said, disbelief becoming anger.