Desert World Allegiances (29 page)

“Shan, do you think….” Temar stopped. He didn’t want to start questioning every person he’d met. He didn’t want to wonder which of his friends and neighbors would let an entire planet die, just to save themselves. He really didn’t want to make Shan question people like Holmes, who’d been so important to him.

“I have the list on the storage reader, but I couldn’t look,” Shan said, answering Temar’s question despite the fact that Temar hadn’t asked it out loud. “Cover your eyes or you’re going to go blind by the other end of this.” Shan changed the subject and pulled goggles over his head before tying off his sand scarf. Temar pulled his own goggles on and settled them on his face before adding another loop of scarf over the top of his head to protect his forehead. Bad storms were enough to etch glass, so Temar suspected that any bit of exposed skin would be raw before they got to the launch site, even if it was close.

Shan headed out, and Temar followed, not bothering to secure the door behind him. If the pristine living quarters were ruined, Temar didn’t care. By next week, the Suette family and Ben and every other evil person on this planet were either going to be in space or in exile. Their chairs didn’t matter much. A little part of Temar quailed at the waste, but a bigger part felt the need to damage something, and the chairs were a good target.

Temar had to hold onto Shan’s belt to keep from losing him in the thick sand that blew down the valley, blasting them. Even with the goggles, Temar could feel his eyes start to itch, so he closed them and followed wherever Shan led. When they stopped, he knew they’d reached the bike, but it seemed to take Shan a long time to get the machine going. Temar stood with his hand braced on the back of the sand bike, wondering if there was any way to get help. It had taken them three hours to get here from Landing, and that was without the storm. Shan was probably right about the fact that they didn’t have time to waste on getting help, but Temar wasn’t one to rush into things. He’d obviously missed out on inheriting whatever gene allowed Shan and Cyla to rush in and trust that they’d come out the other end. Temar wasn’t that certain. However, he would rather go down trying to stop these people than he would sit in the safety of the relay buildings as a group of selfish men and women condemned an entire world to death.

The wind was sharp enough to feel like prickles against his skin by the time the roar of the bike rose over the sound of the wind, crashing down the narrow valley. Temar cracked his eyes open, and through the fog of dust, he could see Shan throw his leg over the sand bike. Temar followed, pressing himself tightly against Shan’s back, and then they were off.

Temar wasn’t sure how Shan could even see through the storm, but he guided the bike over one shifting sand dune after another. Each time they came to the crest, the wind tore at them, and the bike shuddered under Temar, but Shan guided them down into the trough between dunes, where sand devils rose in violent swirls.

Soon the sand thinned, and Temar could feel the sand bike bounce as the wide tires found purchase on solid rock. When Shan pulled the bike so sharply to the side that they nearly went over, Temar’s eyes came open in time to see the foggy outline of a crag rise up from the floor of a shallow valley. “Shan?” Temar yelled over the wind and the motor.

“Soon. This is the mouth of the valley,” Shan yelled back, the wind whipping his words away almost before Temar could hear them. He drove slower now, and Temar tried to blink away the sting in his eyes from the fine particles of sand that had worked their way under his goggles.

The valley stayed narrow, even narrower than the one where the Livre Communication Relay sat. However, the floor of the valley quickly dropped far below the level of the sand dunes, with rock walls on either side. Small valleys like this sometimes had dunes crash over the top, burying them, and Temar eyed the top of the rocky walls as the air started to clear.

“How deep is this?” Temar asked. He hadn’t known there was anything west of the relay, but this felt… wrong. It was too deep, and the walls didn’t have the worn edges of the Landing Valley.

“Deep,” Shan shouted back. “Is it just me, or does this look almost like it’s been cut?”

Now that Shan said it, Temar could see the evidence. The slope of the valley floor was too sharp—the walls were too straight. It reminded Temar of the relay station and all the unnatural angles. “Did the settlers have machines that could have done this?” Temar asked.

Shan shifted the bike into another gear, and the roar turned into a rumble as they slowed. “I don’t think so, but explorers and military units were on Livre before it was opened for settlement. I know one of the planets tried to set up mining here, but the cost of importing everything the miners demanded was more than the optic glass exports were worth. I guess setters and a terraforming setup were cheaper in the long run.”

With that, Shan guided the bike into a corner formed by the straight wall and a fallen chunk of rock with two square edges. “We should walk from here.” Shan stared straight ahead, his sand scarf and goggles obscuring his expression.

“Why?” Temar asked.

Shan looked over his shoulder, but the gray dust covering Shan hid his emotions. “You can stay here,” Shan said. From his jacket, he pulled out a long bar that Temar hadn’t seen him put in there. Reality hit him. Guards. These people would have put guards on the place if they were nervous. Shan was talking about fighting their own people.

Taking a deep breath, Temar squared his shoulders. “I’m going with you.” For a second, Shan looked at him, but then he nodded and swung his leg off the bike. Since he was shorter, Temar had to scramble a little to get off, but when he did, he grabbed for Shan’s arm. “You’re a priest. You shouldn’t have to….” Temar looked down at the pipe. The simple fact was that Shan was taller and heavier, even if he had lost a lot of weight recently. Temar wouldn’t have the same strength behind his hits, but he figured he should be the one fighting, since Shan was a priest.

Shan pulled his goggles off and wiped a hand over his eyes. “I’ll ask God to forgive me later,” Shan said, his voice trembling with emotion. “But I won’t stand by and watch children I’ve baptized condemned because of men like Ben Gratu. That isn’t moral.” Shan’s voice was cold on the last part, and Temar could feel a tremor of fear. Then Shan pulled his hand away from his eyes, and Temar could see the pain in them.

“I’ll be there with you,” Temar promised, and the look Shan gave him was almost grateful.

“Just don’t stand so close I accidentally hit you with this. It’s been a long time since I played stickball or tried to hit anyone.” Shan’s attempt at humor sounded strained and painful, but Temar smiled anyway.

“That’s fair. And Shan?”

“Yes?”

Temar closed his mouth, not sure what to say, but he had to say something about how much Shan had meant to him… how much Shan had helped him. Despite the fact that Temar hadn’t given him anything more than a vague clue, Shan had followed it. Because Temar had kept Ben’s secret, Shan had nearly died, and he never blamed Temar. When Temar felt dirtied by Ben’s touch, the fact that Shan still felt desire made him almost believe…. Temar struggled to put a word to it. He almost felt whole. It made Temar think that maybe people could see him and not focus only on those bruises. For the longest time, Temar felt like he didn’t exist, like the hand-shaped bruises on his thighs were real, and he was the shadow that wore them. But Shan had seen those marks… he’d seen the belt marks on the backs of his legs, and he still saw Temar. He still wanted Temar, even when Temar flinched from a simple touch

“Thank you,” Temar said, the words catching in his throat.

Shan looked confused. “For what?”

Temar chewed on his lower lip, his thoughts too chaotic to explain how much it all meant to him. Shan dropped his gaze to the ground between them for a moment before reaching out to slowly touch Temar on the shoulder. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? After all, it was a hallucination of you that got me through the desert.”

Temar smiled and gave a nod. He didn’t have anything to do with that. As much as Temar sometimes doubted the existence of God, he suspected that God had more to do with Shan’s hallucinations that he did. However, he was glad his image had helped Shan. Overhead, streaks of gray and tan stained the sky as the wind ripped the sand across the face of Livre.

“So, let’s take care of this,” Shan said, his face suddenly grim.

Temar unwound his sand scarf and wrapped it around his right hand before he made a fist. He didn’t have to answer because Shan was moving down the valley, staying close to the side and taking advantage of the fact that the sunlight didn’t actually reach the ground. It hit the sand cloud over head and illuminated every grain of sand, so that the sky glowed like overheated glass. However that meant that the sunlight couldn’t shine down, so they were in a strange twilight.

Running in silence, Temar fought an urge to cough. Ahead he could see a black square that had the same perfect lines of the relay or the council house in Landing. There was a metal building up ahead. Shan stopped behind a rock and crouched down, and Temar found his own hiding spot several yards behind Shan.

Shan held up a hand and pointed, and Temar nodded, even though Shan didn’t bother to turn and look at the gesture. Slowly, Shan moved closer, but Temar waited, watching the valley. He couldn’t see anyone, and his guts were tangled in one big knot.

Without a sound, Shan darted out from behind his rock, his weapon raised. Temar couldn’t see anyone in the deep shadow, but he could hear the pained cry as someone went down. Crouching low, Temar raced forward, terrified that Shan needed him and he wasn’t there to help. When he got close, he could see a body lying in the dust, Shan standing over him, staring down.

“Shan?” The stillness frightened Temar.

“I know him,” Shan said, his eyes still on the person lying on the ground. Temar looked down, and he could see the chest slowly rise and fall, but the man’s limbs were thrown out at awkward angles. “I know him,” Shan repeated, softer this time. Temar opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find any words to say. Before he could blurt out something inappropriate, Shan shook himself free of the paralysis and looked toward the door. “If they have a patrol, they’re going to know we’re here now.”

“So, we go in?”

Shan looked over. “Or we give up and run like hell.” His tone made it clear that he wouldn’t blame Temar if he picked option two.

“We go in,” Temar said, heading for the door. Part of him said they’d be better off running and coming back with a plan and a whole lot of help, but with the storm, neither was possible. Shan reached out and caught his arm, and Temar couldn’t help that moment of fear that made him flinch away. Shan let his hand drop.

“Let me go first. I look like about half the planet, Temar. I’m downright average as long as no one looks at the nose too long. They see me first, and they’re going to hesitate as they wonder who I am. They see you, and they’re going to know exactly who you are. You should stay behind me.”

“I can fight,” Temar said. Ever since he’d lain under Ben, biting his lip to keep from screaming, he’d been ready to fight. He felt the anger, like an itch under his skin, and he was ready for a fight.

Nodding, Shan agreed. “I know you can, but we may need those few extra seconds.”

Temar clenched his teeth, but he didn’t protest when Shan moved in front of him, pipe still in hand. The door was closed, but at Shan’s push, the heavy metal slid back, and cooler air from a deep cave drifted up, bathing them. Temar breathed in the scent of metal and something that smelled of blood. He exchanged a concerned look with Shan, but then Shan was moving into the dark.

The first room was pitch black, but a glow at the far end led them toward a hall that took a ninety-degree turn and was illuminated with lights set into the wall every six inches. The whole floor sloped down into the bowels of the artificial cave. Temar couldn’t help but think that this was an incredible waste of resources. “What is this place?” he whispered, but his words seemed to echo along the bare walls.

Shan gave a helpless shrug and kept moving. Temar heard footsteps long before he saw anyone, and Shan started pulling at doors until he found one that was unlocked. He yanked the door open, holding it for Temar to duck inside before following. Shan stood with his hand on the door as the footsteps passed them in the hall.

In a voice little more than a breath, Shan said, “We have to assume that they’ll find Devin.”

“Who?”

Shan gave Temar an odd look. “The man I hit.”

“Oh.”

With a deep breath, Shan opened the door and headed back into the hall. Temar felt an odd calm, as if his soul had just gotten so tired of being scared that it had gone numb. He tried to swallow, but his throat was so dry that the sides stuck together, and he had to fight down another urge to cough as he followed Shan out into the hall. Shan was trotting now, moving so fast that Temar had to break into a jog to keep up.

Voices echoed ahead of him, and Temar could feel his head getting light and overstuffed at the same time. It took him a little longer than it should have to realize he’d stopped breathing, but then his body wasn’t really talking to his mind at this point. He could feel his muscles tremble, but he couldn’t quite feel the emotion that generated that excess energy. He should be afraid. He should be terrified. And it really should have occurred to Temar that the two of them were heading into the mountain with no real plan. Next time someone tried to set up a giant water conspiracy, Temar was going to insist on being the one to make the plans, because Cyla and Shan both lacked any kind of skill at the matter.

Shan stopped and pointed straight down. Temar frowned as he looked at the stone floor. While he felt more than a little awe at the tool that could cut so smoothly, he didn’t think this was the time for sightseeing. He gave Shan a confused look. Silently and slowly, Shan reached out and tugged at Temar’s shirt, pulling him forward until Temar could see down the grate set into that smooth, stone floor under Shan’s feet. Below them, pipes rumbled, and steam sluggishly swirled through the air. Steam. Temar figured he was about the only person on all of Livre to see both steam and mud on this water-starved world. The mud had horrified him, the sheer waste of water made him ill, but this was worse. The steam that slowly rose from the machinery below them had been intentionally stolen.