8bdd6f303186535567ecd39d609b787f by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Format: epub
Published: 2013-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Consciousness, when it returned, was far from a welcome guest. For a change,

Cooper's dreams had been pleasant ones,

focused on finding the ideal planet upon which to settle. An almost-mythical Fleet discharge in hand, he was free to pursue a living as a trader or even a scout for one of the corps, if he so chose. The penance demanded by Admiralty had been served. The only thing that disturbed the tranquility of his new home was the constant roaring of ships taking off from somewhere nearby ...

He lifted his eyelids with some effort and saw the sand. That dispelled the last remnants of his dream — there had been no desert on his private world. He gently shifted his position, expecting the splitting headache that came from a hangover, but Sinan's drug was apparently side-effect free, for no pain came. He was back in the tent, along with Taggart, Marta and surprisingly, Caj.

"I guess he couldn't afford you," Cooper said to the slumbering form of the techno. He rose and looked

around — the liqui-pouches were gone, as were the sleeping mats. Only the tent remained, its entrance unlaced. There were no guards visible.

Cooper pushed the flap aside and stepped out into the desert dawn. The wanderers' camp was gone, vanished as if it had never been there. Tents, gear, everything, all had been whisked away as if a djinn had waved his hand and made it disappear. Even the footprints of the camp's residents had been buried by the shifting sands. The only signs of human occupation were the carcasses of droms littered here and there, their throats cut. Desert scavengers had already begun tearing at the bodies.

He turned westward toward where the pirate fleet had rested. The sun's rays reflected off the hull of a lone vessel that had been left behind. Cooper squinted in an effort to make it out, then began to walk toward the gleaming metal frame.

As he'd suspected, the only ship Sinan had not taken was the one so badly damaged as to be good for nothing but its few salvageable parts. It resembled a small cargo vessel, but its design didn't match anything Cooper had seen before. The hull was badly damaged, as if it had been caught in a meteor shower — though not breached, portions were not far from it.

He tried opening the hatch, but found it had warped shut. He picked up a heavy rock and began smashing it against one corner of the weakened door. After a dozen blows, the metal gave just enough that he could slip his fingers between hatch and hull.

"Is it supper-time, or are you just banging for the hell of it?"

Cooper turned. Taggart had emerged from the tent, looking as if he'd slept for a week. And who knows, maybe he did, the scout thought. Maybe we all did.

Taggart came to join him, followed minutes later by Caj and Marta. Seeing that efforts to open the hatch were failing miserably, the woman shoved Cooper and Taggart aside and took hold of the hatch in her metal hand.

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