Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) (41 page)

Docking at Odesa was relatively similar to the process at Kharvid. A large building loomed ahead, with slots cut from rock ready to receive starships of various sizes and shapes. Merlo parked them in one likely typically reserved for the largest of cargo vessels, and metal clamps with magnetic arms latched onto the
Destiny
almost before she could extend her mechanical landing legs.

It didn’t take the crew long to ready themselves for the excursion; she and Merlo were the only ones disembarking right now, anyway. The long trip down the elevator was also much like the ones endured on Kharvid, though more time consuming and thankfully less crowded. Branwen noted Merlo shifting and crossing her arms, a posture that spoke of hidden discomfort. Branwen threw a friendly arm around her short pilot in the spirit of reassurance and companionship, and the girl smiled up at her after a moment of initial surprise. She grinned down at Merlo in return, and they waited out the interminable descent together in a more amicable silence.

Branwen blinked, suddenly startled as strips of the stone walls around them abruptly disappeared, replaced by thick glasteel variants that allowed a view. Only now did the pair of travelers see the real Odesa, stretching twice as far beneath the ground as it did above. For each building standing on the surface above their heads, a mirror image of it in stone and steel descended deep beneath the earth, like technological, urban taproots. Many stretched downward until they anchored into the cavern floor, their length striped with those slashes of glasteel windows and trimmed in neon lighting.

The cavern that housed the beating heart of Odesa, Branwen noted, did not seem to be a naturally occurring one like had been the case with Kharvid. Instead of organic, rounded shapes, the cavern’s edges and corners were squared off and machined, showing clear signs of Urzran expansion over time. It all seemed very modern, very cosmopolitan, at least to Branwen. Lights were brightly colored, and far beneath their feet, a mass of foot traffic bustled about, going to and fro from small buildings that clustered around the feet of the gigantic… skyscrapers? Groundscrapers?

The slow descent of their elevator still took a while to hit the cavern floor. Branwen noticed several smaller, much more modern elevators practically firing their passengers upward at many times her current speed, and wondered briefly if they should have gotten one of those instead, and if it would really have been preferable to her.

They passed several networks of thick crosswalks connecting the buildings during their controlled fall, most of them also thick with pedestrians, though their elevator stopped at none of them. Studying the layout of Odesa, Branwen came to the realization that, in the reverse of most cities, in Odesa the poor lived high above the surface and the wealthy far below it, enjoying both comfort and miles of protection from the deadly solar radiation.

Their elevator chimed, and a disembodied VI told everyone in a straightforward, gruff tone where they were and that they should now disembark. The handful of Urzran passengers were already at the door before it finished speaking, jockeying for position and shouldering their way out, if not quite outright shoving one another. Branwen, and by extension Merlo, waited for them to squeeze out, then departed as well.

The trip to Oran Yustari’s location wasn’t particularly enjoyable for Branwen. As much as she found herself surprisingly enjoying the ambiance of the lower city, the dense and unforgiving foot traffic tried its best to bait her temper out. People seemed to jostle her on purpose every few moments, though she understood that it was likely just something customary of the Urzran populace here and tried not to let it bother her overmuch. On the other hand, Merlo seemed to take it as a challenge, thumping incoming Urzrans aside with a surprising ease that brought a smile to Branwen’s face.

“Is this it?” Merlo’s voice came out as skeptical. They stood on a relatively quiet corner where they could talk for a moment without feeling like stones cast into the river of focused pedestrian traffic. The building in question was large and multi-story, but not one of the ones that extended out of the roof of the man-made cavern. This structure was more rounded than most others, with a large, elaborate glasteel dome from which shone the lights of some sort of event going on inside.

“Yes. Supposedly it is some sort of advanced gambling hall.” They hadn’t been able to get an appointment with Yustari, but rumor had it that he apparently “held court” of a sort in his establishment most every night. Branwen would have to talk their way in to see him on her own merits.

Merlo grinned. “Oh, it’s a casino.”

“You are familiar with these?” Branwen was a little surprised.

“Huh? No, not really.” Merlo regarded her Captain’s raised eyebrow with a look and an almost embarrassed shrug. “I mean, I read about them on the Exonet randomly. They sounded kind of fun. Or maybe a waste of time. One of those. I dunno.”

Branwen gave her a smile and slapped her hand down on the girl’s shoulder. “Perhaps one day we can determine which it is together,” Branwen commented. Merlo returned the smile. “Though today is not that day. Today, we need answers.” Branwen’s gaze settled on the open entrance to the flashy building.

Any other time, the curious lights and sounds of the casino might have tempted Branwen into an extended investigation, despite the bewildering wealth of unfamiliar technology surrounding her. Merlo, glancing about with a seeming sense of critical interest, appeared to agree. Following the generalized directions on her datapad, the pair wound their way toward the upper levels and the promise of Oran Yustari’s presence, but eventually found their way barred by a pair of muscular Uzran men in suits.

They held up a matching pair of tattooed hands to pause her, glancing at one another before looking back at Branwen. She imagined that they were tall for Uzrans, which meant she still had most of a head on the taller of them. Hired muscle didn’t intimidate her, and though she still knew that finding trouble here would cause problems, she also knew they sensed her lack of concern over their presence.

“You here to see Mr. Yustari?” One of them spoke after a moment’s pause, a voice thick with a gravelly Urzran accent. They seemed to ignore Merlo’s presence, to the side and slightly behind Branwen, which was fine with her.

“That I am.” Branwen let her confidence say more than the words she chose to use. Behind the men, there were a couple of private tables, but she spied the one where Yustari lounged and set her eyes on him.

One of the two men raised a hand to his ear, and Branwen supposed him to be utilizing some sort of communication device. In the background, she saw the man she’d rightly guessed to be Oran Yustari pause in speaking and raise a hand to his own ear. “What business do you have with Mr. Yustari?” The two men moved slightly closer together, cutting off her view of the casino’s proprietor.

“My business is my own, but I come representing the Kalaset, and intend to speak with Mr. Yustari.” Her tone was polite enough, but told them that she didn’t expect a “no” as an answer.

The one who had spoken to her kept a hand pressed to his ear. “I’m sorry, but…” He trailed off, turning to look behind himself, to where Oran Yustari, resplendent in his pristine white suit, beckoned to them.

Even from here, Branwen could hear him call for them to “let her through.” With obvious reluctance, they parted to do just that, though Branwen could feel their eyes lingering suspiciously on her as she approached Yustari’s table.

Oran Yustari was a powerfully built if aging Urzran, with whitening hair and some extra weight in his gut. His impeccable, fur-trimmed ivory suit accented sharp, intelligent crystal blue eyes. Dangerous eyes.

Those hardened eyes now settled on Branwen as he relaxed in his comfortable booth, surrounded by a trio of barely dressed, fawning servant girls with depressed expressions. Two men in fine suits of their own sat across from him, giving him curious looks as he paused their card game to watch Branwen’s approach, pushing a thick cigar between his teeth and inhaling deeply.

“So, my men inform me that you come representing the Kalaset.” Oran Yustari’s voice was deep, authoritative, and amused. His sharp eyes raked over Branwen, taking her in, and settled on Merlo, who he gave a broad, lecherous grin. Branwen sensed the girl stiffen behind her, but held a hand out as covertly as possible to settle her. “You are not exactly their typical fare.”

“I get that a lot.” Branwen gave him a thin smile. Medlava might have held political power, Stone might have been hiding secrets, but this man was the one who felt the most dangerous. Branwen leaned forward and extended a hand across the table. “Captain Branwen Hawke.”

“If you are here from the Kalaset, then you must know that they and I have had a falling out, of sorts.” He didn’t immediately take her arm, but when Branwen didn’t move, he surprised her by clasping it in a way that was very close to how one would on Fade. “So it would do you well to explain exactly why you have come.”

She nodded. He might be dangerous, but that alone didn’t intimidate her. “We are investigating the disappearance of Kala Tiala.” She watched his eyes narrow. “We have reason to believe she might have visited you recently, and we were hoping you could help us locate her.” Branwen felt the time to pull punches was behind them.

The gambit indeed garnered a reaction. Oran’s eyes narrowed further, and his brow furrowed. With an abrupt gesture, the three serving girls retreated, and Branwen saw the glint of dull metal around their necks: the collars of indentured servants. Merlo shifted agitatedly behind her again, and she figured her pilot had noticed as well.

“I have not seen Tiala for a long time. She displeased me in a previous visit, many years ago.” He sounded almost angry, but there was something else, something distant, in his eyes as well. He did do an excellent job of hiding it, however; enough so that Branwen couldn’t make out what it was.

“Something tells me that there is more to the story than this, Mr. Yustari. And I need to know if there is anything here relevant to my search for the Kala.” She watched his eyes narrow at the statement of challenge, but instinct continued to tell her to shake the tree and see what fell out.

“You are from Fade, are you not, Captain?” His eyes said that he already knew. Branwen didn’t take her eyes off of Yustari, but she heard a whisper of movement and grumbling murmur from the two men to her side when Fade was mentioned.

“I am.”

“Leave me.” His look directed the statement toward to the two men, and they began to edge out of their seats and leave, but not before shooting Branwen dangerous glares. He gestured Branwen and Merlo closer, and Branwen obliged, though she did not yet sit.

Meeting his stare, she saw one thing that was familiar in his eyes. Oran Yustari was a man who had looked full into the face of conflict. War always leaves its marks. And from the recognition on his face, Branwen could tell he saw the same in her, as well. “You were a warrior on Fade, Captain? A leader of men?” Discarding the thick stub of his current cigar, he took another one from a gold-inlaid case in his jacket and lit it, taking a long draw and blowing the smoke to the side where it lingered heavily in the air.

“I fought and led women and men in many battles for many years, yes. I would ask the same of you, but I feel I already know the answer.”

He grunted, the hostile expression beginning to soften and fade, displaced by a degree of amusement again. “I fought many years in struggles here on Urzra and beyond, yes. I thought I felt a kinship of that sort with you, Captain Hawke.”

“It is something most do not understand.” Branwen agreed. She realized she’d unconsciously shifted her stance, falling into her old military posture, and softened her own face with a smile. “Though I am surprised that you do not seem bothered by my heritage.”

Oran Yustari actually laughed, a deep chuckle rising from his belly as he tapped out cigar ashes onto a plate on the table. “Such small concerns are for small minds, Captain Hawke, and I refuse to be bound by foolish prejudice.” He leaned forward almost conspiratorily. “I have a feeling that you and I, we are too old for such things.”

Branwen found herself returning his grin. If he was manipulating her, he was doing very well, because she found him somewhat likable despite the fact that she as of yet had no evidence disagreeing with Governor Medlava’s assertion that the man was a pig. It was hard to judge someone on things like indentured girls though, because no matter how deplorable she might personally find it, Branwen realized that it was part of a culture that was vastly different from her own. Besides, she still needed answers.

So she sat down at the table across from Yustari and crossed her arms on the table, Merlo migrating over to stand near her side effectively Branwen’s own bodyguard. “As we understand it, Kala Tiala came to see you as a part of a tour she was making, seeing her previous clients before her impending retirement.” She commented, leaning forward.

Yustari snorted. “Then, whoever has told you this is either mistaken, or lying.” The large Urzran man sharply jabbed the end of his cigar into a dish on the table. The action seeming to imply some sort of anger or irritation, but as far as Branwen could tell not one directed at her. “It is as I have said. The Kala and I did not part on such good terms. I have not seen her for many years now, nor spoken to her for quite a few.” Stuffing the non-smouldering end of his cigar into his mouth once again, he leaned close over the table as well. “What do you know of this matter? What has happened to her?”