DusktoDust_Final3 Read online

  Mr. Black nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent.” With that Titus Windham left them, returning to the table at the center of the room.

  David was still a little stunned by the development that had just occurred. As Mr. Black led them to Mr. Windham’s office, his brain was working overtime to process it all. It had been one thing for their contact, Mr. Black, to openly admit his association with Windcorp. That had been a warning signal for him and Alana. But for the owner of Windcorp to personally greet a pair of smugglers and then ask them to wait in his office? That was unheard of. Massive alarm bells were now going off in David’s head.

  Mr. Black led them to a set of hinged wooden double doors, the kind found in old mansions on Earth. The doors were ornate, with large brass handles and the image of an early twentieth century oil well carved into them. To the right of the doors was a desk with an elderly woman sitting behind it. Mr. Black walked up to her.

  “It is nice to see you again, Felicia. Mr. Windham wanted me to have Mr. Carpenter and Ms. Ramirez wait for him in his office.” Felicia barely looked up from the paperwork she was working on. She reached out and hit a button on the desk and the wooden doors swung open.

  Mr. Black motioned David and Alana in. “Please make yourselves at home. There is coffee and refreshments at the bar. Mr. Windham will be in shortly.” With that he left them and the doors closed.

  Windham’s office was exquisite. The walls were adorned with dozens of pictures and artifacts from civilizations past. The man was clearly a student of history. There were pictures of him at the Pyramids of Giza, the Great Wall of China, even on the moon standing next to the United States flag. He had African masks and a statue of Buddha in display cases. If David didn’t know any better he would have taken Windham for an upstanding business owner.

  He looked at Alana. He could tell she was holding something in. The Windham development was definitely not sitting right with her. They had a plan, and this might disrupt it. But they definitely couldn’t talk about it here. There was no telling how many listening and recording devices there were in the office.

  They waited. It was nearly an hour before the doors to the office opened. When they did, Titus Windham walked in. The doors shut behind him..

  “Sorry, running an intragalactic corporation makes me one of the least timely individuals around.” He took a seat in the large chair at his mahogany desk. “I will bring Mr. Black in here shortly, but first I wanted to have a chat with the two of you.”

  David didn’t like the sound of that. “Mr. Windham, we are honored that you hired us, but can you tell us-”

  “I’m sure you have more than a few questions, Mr. Carpenter. I definitely would if I were in your shoes. However, let’s not get down to business just yet.” Windham stood up and walked over to a cabinet and opened it to reveal a wet bar. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

  David looked at Alana and then back at Windham. “That’s okay. We’re fine.” Damn the man’s sensibility. David wasn’t going to drink just because it might offend his employer.

  Windham made a face as if he was disappointed. Then he poured himself two fingers of what looked like some very expensive scotch. When he was done he took the glass and returned to his desk. “Now I’m going to tell you a story. Do either of you know what is engraved on the other side of that door?”

  “A well?” Alana said.

  “An oil well, Ms. Ramirez,” Windham corrected. “Back in the twentieth century, these machines dotted the landscape of Earth, sucking the black blood that is oil out of the planet. But what is the history of this substance? We think that oil was only a thing of the recent past, used to fuel the automobile and ships and industry for a time. But did you know that the Persians, Greeks, Romans, even the Babylonians mined what we know as ground oil? They used it for lighting and in medicine among other things. China mined oil as long ago as the fourth century, digging wells over eight hundred feet deep. If oil has such a long history, then why do we associate it so much with the twentieth and twenty-first centuries?”

  Windham paused but David and Alana said nothing. “It is because humanity did not know what it had discovered yet. It did not know how to harness the power of this natural resource and force it to do its bidding. But then came the invention of the combustion engine and suddenly no one could have enough oil. It was black gold. Industry boomed. Civilization thrived. People credited the prosperity of this age to great minds, leaders, inventors, scientists. As with all our history, only a human could be responsible for this accomplishment for humanity.”

  David didn’t know where this was going. What did he care about oil, a forgotten substance from a different world? But he didn’t stop Windham. He didn’t dare interrupt the man. “I have a different theory,” he continued. “I believe that oil deserves the credit. For without it, the prosperity of the turn of the millennia would never have been possible.

  “I keep the image of an oil well on those doors to remind me of how essential resources are to the advancement of humanity. Without oil, the combustion engine would have never been developed. And likewise, without Klyston, the hyperdrive would have never been developed. Without gunpowder, the gun. The examples go on.”

  Gunpowder in itself was an advancement, David thought but held his tongue.

  “I also keep the image there to remind me that no resource is unlimited. The oil wells eventually dried up. But human ingenuity prevailed. Concentrated electrical stores, nuclear fusion, hydrogen. This all filled the void that oil left. And eventually we discovered Klyston here on Prospect. Like oil, humanity didn’t know what it had found. Thankfully, it didn’t take us millennia to figure out how to use the damn stuff, but scientists spent a decade or so experimenting before they developed the hyperdrive.

  “There is a cycle to resources. Klyston will eventually run out. Maybe not in your or my lifetime, but it will. I am president of a company that produces nearly half of the galaxy’s Klyston and I am under no illusions. But humanity will carry on. We will discover another resource and harness its power. Who knows, maybe we have already found it, but like oil, we just don’t know it yet.”

  Windham paused and David was pretty sure he was done with his tangent, whatever the purpose was. “Very interesting,” was all he could think to say.

  Windham laughed. “I assume you are wondering why I told you all that.”

  “A little,” David said, still confused. The look on Alana’s face echoed his words.

  Windham leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Carpenter, Windcorp is known mainly for its Klyston production.” Among other things, David thought. “But we do support other industries. I’m sure you are wondering why a corporation that owns its own fleet of starships has hired a pair of pilots. I’m sure the first thing that went through your head was that you would be hauling something less than legitimate.”

  David was tired of this. He knew that Windham had a good idea of what the corporation’s reputation was like. What was the point of beating around the bush? “Mr. Windham, there have been many things going through my head, not the least of which being what could possibly be so important for the head of the most notorious corporation in the galaxy to take a personal interest in?” David had just unzipped his fly. Now he might as well pull his pants down. “So can we cut the crap? My partner and I have travelled half way across this planet, ducking the Peaks everywhere we go. The experience has been less than enjoyable. And all I want now is to know why we have stuck our necks out on the chopping block? I want some answers!”

  Mr. Windham met David’s gaze. Despite the smuggler’s minor explosion, the business tycoon seemed at ease. “Are you done?” David didn’t say a word. “Because if you are I can tell you what you want to know.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but instead pulled out a tablet from his desk. “This is what you will be flying, Canaveral class as you were told in the contract.”

  David took a deep breath, switching his mind into bus
iness mode, and then accepted the tablet from Mr. Windham. He started scanning through the ship schematics that were displayed. “A Saab Corsair?” he stated in disgust. “This thing is ancient.”

  “It’s heavily modified,” Windham replied. “She can make the run, as long as she has the right pilot.”

  Alana looked over David’s shoulder. “Modified is an understatement. This thing has more weapons than an orbital station. Four chain guns. Six missile pods. An ion cannon.” She looked up at her employer. “Mr. Windham, you hired us for a run, not to take on the whole Peacekeeper fleet.”

  “Ms. Ramirez, in my line of work you learn that over-precaution is the only type of precaution.”

  David continued to read through the documents. Other than an abnormally large amount of weaponry, the ship seemed on the up and up. It was what he had expected. Canaveral class, requiring two crewman. The Corsair was originally a personnel transport with bunk space for fifty passengers. But much of the passenger space on this ship had been converted to cargo space. And according to the manifest the cargo was…

  “Sealed?”

  “Excuse me?” Windham said.

  “The cargo,” David said turning the tablet for the man to read. “All it says here is that it is sealed. What is it?”

  Windham took the tablet back and placed it on the desk. He knew what it said. “Mr. Carpenter, I am paying you a very large sum of money to complete a relatively simple task. Consider some of this payment as not just paying for your labor, but for your… discretion.”

  David smiled. “Mr. Windham, I don’t care how high the notes are. We will only work for you if we know what we are hauling.”

  “Your conscious can remain pure, my friends. I’ve read your files. I know you have standards. I assure you that the cargo is not slaves, or drugs for that matter.”

  “That’s not the point,” David objected.

  Windham held up his hand. “No, I’m afraid that is the point. Now you can either agree to these terms or we will have to renegotiate them. And if we do that I can assure you, the deal will not be in your favor.” For the first time a menacing tone crept into Titus Windham’s voice. David quickly understood that renegotiating would be a poor life choice.

  “Fine.”

  Windham smiled. “Good, it is a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Carpenter.” He extended his hand, which David reluctantly shook. “Okay, now time to meet the passengers. Mr. Black!”

  David gave Alana a sideways glance. “Passengers?” They hadn’t planned on passengers. That would greatly interrupt their plan.

  “Of course. I’m paying you a small fortune. I might as well get as much bang for my buck as I can.” David and Alana met each other’s eyes again. This was really going to screw things up.

  Behind them the double wooden doors opened. David turned to see Mr. Black enter followed by a Windcorp Security trooper. “Lady, gentleman, you already know Mr. Black,” Windham introduced. “This is First Lieutenant Castle.”

  The trooper took off his desert camouflage helmet to reveal a face that David had nearly forgotten. “How’s it going, Carp,” the man said before David could overcome his shock. “Long time no see. I see you’re still keeping the same company.”

  Alana reacted first. “It’s better than having no one who cares about you at all.” Then she lunged at him but David held her back.

  Both Windham and Black were caught off guard by the whole exchange. “I take it you all know each other,” Windham said.

  David kept his cool. “We’ve crossed paths before.” It took every ounce of will power to not leap across the room and throttle the sick son of a bitch that he hadn’t seen in nearly three years. “How’s it going Castle? I see you got promoted a couple times since we parted ways. I guess Windcorp has different standards for its officers.”

  Castle countered. “More like they value my skills more than the Marines ever did.”

  Mr. Black cut in. “Is there a problem here?” His demeanor was calm as usual but he clearly was not happy by this recent development.

  The answer to that question was delicate. Dominic Castle had served in the Marine Corps with David and Alana. But he had not been a lieutenant back then. He had been a corporal, and in David’s opinion, as his platoon sergeant, he had been a terrible Marine. To say that David and Castle had history was an understatement. Castle had not gotten out of the Corps when Congress had dissolved the service. He had been kicked out about a year before for accusations of torture.

  Staff Sergeant Carpenter had been happy to see the man go and was more than willing to give him a kick on the way out the door. He had figured that Castle had gone on to find employment from any number of unsavory organizations, of which Windcorp was one. But to see him here in an officer’s uniform made David’s stomach turn. If he’s involved, this job is definitely worse than we thought.

  David turned to Windham. “Exactly what is Mr. Castle doing here?”

  “Lieutenant Castle is the commander of the security detachment that will be accompanying you on your voyage.”

  “Security detachment?” Alana asked.

  “Of course,” Windham said. “We have established that the cargo you are carrying is valuable to me. I am sending a twelve man security team to escort it, along with the lieutenant and Mr. Black. They are your passengers.”

  David eyed Castle. Clearly the bad blood was still there. He didn’t expect anything good could come from this arrangement. But at least Mr. Black was coming as well. David could work with him.

  “I’ll ask again, is there going to be a problem gentlemen?” Mr. Black said.

  David answered first. “Of course not. I think we can work something out.” He glanced at Alana. She was extremely displeased with the situation. The fury was evident in her eyes. David had to do something quickly before her temper got out of hand. “Mr. Windham, would you mind if I had a moment alone with my partner?”

  Windham nodded. “Not a problem. I have other business to attend to anyway. You can use my office if you wish. When you are done Mr. Black will show you to the ship. There will be techs there to help you get prepped for departure. I want you off planet before seven o’clock tomorrow. Lieutenant, does that work for you and your men?”

  “Yes, sir,” Castle responded. “We’ll be ready.”

  Windham smiled. “It’s settled then. Mr. Carpenter, my office is yours. Gentlemen.” He then ushered Mr. Black and Castle out of the room.

  When the doors closed David dug in his pocket and pulled out the sonic whistler, which he had somehow held on to through everything they had faced. Once he switched it on Alana let loose. “Are you kidding me, D? Castle!? We cannot be doing business with this guy. All that follows him is trouble.”

  Now it was David’s turn to get pissed. He was sick of her attitude. It was like she thought there was something he could do. “Alana, we are doing this job. I don’t care if the devil himself is on this run. We have no way out.”

  “What about the plan?”

  “The plan? The plan is shot to shit, unless you plan on killing every one of our passengers.” Alana actually contemplated that for a second. “And that is not an option,” David countered. “Our best option is to be on our best behavior, complete the run successfully, and hope that Windcorp trusts us enough to let us walk away at the end. If we see another way out we’ll take it, but as of right now I’m out of options.”

  Alana crossed her arms. “I knew this would happen. Nothing has gone right since we hit the Skylift. And we still don’t know where we are going. And what do we do about Castle? Forget Windcorp. He’s liable to put a bullet in your head at the end of this whether they tell him to or not. He has it out for you, D.”

  “And you have it out for him. I saw your reaction when he walked into the room.”

  “And what if I do? He almost brought down the entire unit. I have a right to hate him for what he did, as do you. How can you be okay with working for him?”


  David stuck his pointer finger in her face. “Let’s get one thing straight. We do not work for him. We work for Windham. I’ll even say we are working for Mr. Black. But we are not working for Castle. He is an inconvenient fixture of this run. But that is all he is. We are not going to take orders from him.”

  “And what do we do if you tries to kill you? I could see it in his eyes. He knows you are the one who got him kicked out.”

  “We’ll do what we always do,” David said, picking up the sonic whistler and making his way to the door. “You watch my back and I’ll watch yours.”

  14: The Art of Deception

  Every inch of his body was covered in sweat. He was hungry and thirsty and tired. Letsego had been locked up in the train car for hours as it rumbled through what was clearly the light side of Prospect. The car had an environmental control unit but its tolerance was abysmal. The interior had to be at least sixty degree Celsius. It hurt to breath. And Letsego didn’t even know where he was headed or, more importantly, if Carpenter was on the same train.

  Letsego couldn’t lean against the wall of the car. It was scorching hot. Instead he wedged himself between a couple of cargo containers. The plastic was still warm but tolerable.

  Suddenly, the temperature in the car dropped at least five degrees. At the same time he felt his ears pop. We must be going underground, out of the sun. Their destination must be a mining facility. It was all that was out here.

  The train began to slow. They must be getting close. But even when they stopped, Letsego had to wait for someone to open the door to his coffin.

  The train coasted to a halt. He listened through the train wall. He could hear the hustle and bustle outside that could only come from a train platform. There was yelling and commotion and the sound of clanging containers. Mechs were moving about, making the unique snap hiss sound of hydraulics hard at work. This had to be the end of the line.