Her Brother's Keeper - eARC Read online

  Cecil found the whole thing grimly adorable, but at the same time annoying. All men, especially men of note, were expected to know how to properly court a lady on Avalon. He had wined, dined, danced with, courted, and bedded plenty of women on Avalon, commoners and aristocracy alike. He was confident that he could have married any of a dozen women if he had wanted to settle down (he didn’t). The confidence and the charm came naturally to him, but he knew it didn’t for most men. It frustrated him to see Zak missing an opportunity like this; Anna was quite comely, remarkably intelligent, well-traveled, and came from a prestigious family. She’d be a prime candidate for marriage for any young man on Avalon, but Zak…poor Zak just didn’t see it. Like a couple of awkward adolescents, Zak and Anna rotated around each other, but neither could muster the courage to voice their desires.

  Finishing his coffee, Cecil resolved to pull Zak aside one of these days and have a man-to-man talk with him. He very much doubted the shy historian would find himself a better woman than Anna. In any case, life was short, too short to waste on being shy…especially when you’re being held for ransom by a petty, sociopathic warlord, Cecil thought bitterly. He set his mug down and took a long swig from his flask. “So,” he said, putting the flask back in his vest. “How goes things?” He was glad that they’d found some ancient novelty to keep themselves busy with. Lang’s brutal conquest of Trench Town had deeply disturbed the two intellectuals.

  Anna glanced up at him briefly. “Well enough, Mr. Blackwood. Spectrograph readings aren’t really telling me anything about this particular item that wasn’t included in the manifest, but I scanned it just in case. It’s fascinating.”

  “It’s some kind of dagger, isn’t it?” Cecil asked.

  “More like a short sword,” Anna said. “See how the blade is curved? It’s meant for slashing, not stabbing. The Zanzibari were smaller than humans. This would be about perfect size for them to use as a one-handed weapon. The metalwork is beyond that of any culture of a similar technology level back on earth. The blade isn’t steel. It’s an alloy, with some synthetic materials that my spectrometer can’t identify.”

  “That’s…unusual, isn’t it? The Zanzibari were at a rough equivalent to the Bronze Age, weren’t they?”

  “Indeed they were. This is puzzling, and it seemed to vex the prewar archaeologists that were studying their civilization as well. They were not primitives. They had a sophisticated, technological society that would have rivaled Ancient Rome at its zenith. Even still, the materials science needed to make a blade like this had to have been beyond their capabilities.”

  “I see. How is it so well preserved? Even high quality steel rusts away with enough time.” The short sword’s blade was darkened and worn, and whatever material the handle had been made of had long since disintegrated, but the weapon was otherwise intact.

  “It has gotten brittle with extreme age,” Anna said, “but otherwise is in excellent condition. The soil of Zanzibar is dry. There’s been no rainfall here for millions of years. Being buried kept it from being eroded by the wind, and there are no plate tectonics or volcanism on this world. Zanzibar being a dead rock contributed to the blade’s preservation. According to the manifest we…” she paused, uncomfortable with how the blade had come into her possession, “That we recovered, it was originally found sealed in a deep chamber in the cave system beneath Trench Town. It had been found in a polished stone container that was also intact. The Zanzibari made things to last. Whatever material the blade is made of withstood the test of time.”

  “So it would seem,” Cecil agreed. “I don’t suppose you’ve been able to divine what happened to the Zanzibari, then, from studying that blade?”

  “I wish,” Zak said, without looking up.

  “That would get our names in the history books,” Anna agreed. “That’s another thing our predecessors here were struggling with. They had archaeologists, geologists, climatologists, volcanologists, chemists, and physicists all working on that question, and they didn’t seem to be any closer to answering it than we are.”

  “Some of the media I recovered shows their scientists actually arguing about it,” Zak said. “Not as in having a vigorous discussion. They were shouting at each other. Seemed like a passionate bunch, if nothing else.”

  “They were frustrated,” Anna added. “According to the journals we’ve recovered, they’d been working very hard on this question, and were constantly pressured by their corporate and government sponsors. Zanzibar likes to keep its secrets, though.”

  “I don’t think it was natural, what happened,” Zak added, “and neither did Dr. Loren. He wrote about it extensively in his journals. Their end was too abrupt. This planet changed too quickly.”

  “Four million years is a long time,” Cecil pointed out.

  “Not in planetary terms. The dinosaurs, giant reptiles from Earth, went extinct sixty-five million years ago. The Earth had a different climate and geography back then, but was still habitable. Even the extinction event that killed the dinosaurs didn’t wipe out all life on earth.”

  “Even more perplexing,” Anna injected, “there’s no evidence on Zanzibar of a massive impact from space. There have been impacts, of course, but nothing big enough to wipe out an entire planet, and nothing that corresponds with the time frame. Even a massive asteroid impact, one sufficient to sterilize the surface, wouldn’t cause the oceans to permanently vanish, end plate tectonics, and curtail volcanic activity. It doesn’t make any sense. Planets don’t just suddenly die.”

  “Apparently they do,” Cecil mused. “How big were these oceans?”

  “Nothing like Earth,” Anna said. “They covered, at most, a fifth of the surface, and were shallow. But they just disappeared.”

  “The poles have ice. There is also a lot of ice below the surface.” Mining subterranean ice is how most of Zanzibar’s scattered settlements survived. Water was a precious commodity on the barren, windswept world.

  “That’s true. Zanzibar is cold enough that there is now ice where once there may have been a water table, and both poles are largely frozen over. Even still, that’s not nearly enough to account for all of the water that would’ve been in this world’s seas.”

  “That’s…rather chilling, if you think about it,” Cecil said. “A world is suddenly wiped clean, and an entire team of scientists couldn’t determine why. It leaves a lot to the imagination, and what the imagination comes up with is frightening.”

  “It’s the stuff horror stories are made of,” Zak said. “I doubt Anna and I are going to solve this quandary by ourselves, but to even have access to this data is unbelievable. If we get off of this planet alive, I’m going to send this to every research institute in known space. This is huge. And…” he looked at the sword again. “And people died for it.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Zak. By all means, save all the data you can. But for now, let’s just keep Lang happy so we don’t end up strung up like those poor bastards up north.”

  Aristotle Lang himself entered the room unexpectedly. “Now, now, Mr. Blackwood, you don’t give me enough credit! Have I been anything but hospitable during your visit?”

  Zak nearly opened his big mouth, but Cecil piped up before the historian could spout off. “Of course, Mr. Lang, of course. I was just using a figure of speech. We, ah, didn’t hear you come in.”

  The stocky warlord was dressed in a long, furry coat that hung nearly to his ankles. What sort of beast the fur came from was anyone’s guess. He had a very large pistol hanging from his belt in a crossdraw holster. Two of his omnipresent bodyguards quietly entered the room, and posted themselves by the door. “I just wanted to pay my valued researchers a visit, see how you were doing.”

  “Well, ah, we’ve been analyzing this blade, as you can see. It’s very well preserved, given how old it is.”

  “Fascinating. Millions of years have passed, and it looks only a few hundred years old. How much do you suppose one could fetch for that, on the market?�
�

  “There really aren’t any pieces like it on the open market, not that we can tell. You know how the Concordiat is about the trade in alien artifacts.”

  “Ha!” Lang snorted. “To hell with the Concordiat, I say. They imagine themselves masters of humanity, but they are not the masters of me. What price could we fetch for it on the private market?”

  Cecil put a hand on Zak’s shoulder to stop him from saying anything. “Several million, easily, given the condition that it’s in.”

  Lang’s dark eyes lit up a little. “Good, good. As well, I have good news for you. A courier ship arrived in-system this week. On the bulk download was a message for me.” He held out a small tablet computer, and tapped the screen. “It seems your ordeal will be at an end soon, my friends.”

  Cecil and his compatriots looked at each other in disbelief. It had been months, many months, since the original message to his father had been sent out. He had all but given up hope of ever hearing a reply. His excitement turned to shock when the video began to play, however. He absolutely had not expected to see her.

  “Greetings, Mr. Lang. I am Captain Catherine Blackwood, commander of the merchant vessel Andromeda. As I record this message, my ship is on New Austin. We are stopping here to resupply before setting out for Zanzibar. My father has contracted me to negotiate for the release of Cecil Blackwood and his entire staff. I come prepared to negotiate in good faith, and want nothing more than to resolve this matter as quickly and painlessly as possible. The specifics of our flight plan are included in this message, so that you know when to expect us. It is not a short journey, so I must ask for patience on your part.” Catherine’s demeanor softened ever-so-slightly. “Stay safe, little brother. I’m coming to take you home.” The message ended abruptly.

  Cecil and his compatriots were left speechless. He hadn’t seen his sister in years, and now she was coming to pay his ransom? Without a word, he retrieved his flask and downed the rest of it in one gulp.

  Lang beamed. “You see? I know you doubted me, but you are not in any danger. You are not any use to me strung up, as you say. I have plenty of malcontents to hang, if I wish, like those fools in Trench Town who did not accept my generous offer to join the revolution. I only have one rich man’s son to bargain with.”

  “Yes…well…” Cecil stammered, still in shock.

  “One last thing before I take my leave,” Lang said. “How much closer are we to that vault?”

  Zak looked up, staring the old warlord right in the eye, before Cecil could stop him. “We’re working on it,” he said coldly. “All of your blustering, all of your veiled threats, and all of your pressure doesn’t make the work go by any faster. We’re trying to solve a mystery here, and honest-to-God treasure hunt. Most of the records were deliberately scrubbed, and most of those that weren’t were destroyed in the war. It’s going to take time. Research can’t be rushed, Lang. All these interruptions do is disrupt our workflow!”

  Cecil’s mouth fell open. Anna coughed uncomfortably, and kept her eyes fixed on her lap.

  Lang’s eyes narrowed. His two bodyguards looked at each other with disbelief. Nobody spoke to Aristotle Lang that way. The old warlord stepped across the room, until he was standing over Zak. The historian stood up, eye to eye with Lang, and glared at him.

  This is it, Cecil thought, cringing. The damned fool just got himself killed.

  “Ha!” Lang barked. He slapped Zak on the shoulder, laughing heartily. “I like this historian of yours, Mr. Blackwood! He’s quiet, like a mouse, but he has the heart of a lion! I’m surrounded by fools who are afraid to tell me the truth, but this man, this man has balls! Ha ha! Very well, Mr. Mesa. I will leave you to your studies. It will be some time before the ship arrives to collect you all, so perhaps we will find it by then?”

  “P…perhaps,” Cecil squeaked.

  “I have faith in you, Mr. Blackwood,” Lang said. “Do this thing for me, and I will let your sweet Bianca leave with you. I think you both would like that, yes?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s very generous of you.”

  Lang smiled evilly. “I am very generous to those who do well for me. Very generous.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, pausing only to berate his two bewildered bodyguards. “Come, you fools, leave these scholars to their work. Can’t you see you’re disturbing them?” A door slammed as the warlord and his entourage left the building, leaving the three captives alone again.

  Cecil, wide eyed, heart racing, slowly sat down. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his right temple. He looked over at his partner and shook his head slowly. Zak seemed like the quiet type, but Lang was right: the man had balls.

  Anna was staring at Zak in disbelief. It would seem that she’d never seen this side of him before either, and it was apparent to Cecil that she liked what she saw. Her face flushed, just a little.

  “Say Zak,” Cecil said conversationally. “I need you to help me with something upstairs.”

  “What? We’re pretty busy here, Cecil,” Zak said, as oblivious as ever.

  “I’m aware of that, but I really need to discuss something with you. Please, it’ll only be a moment.”

  “Fine,” Zak muttered, standing up. “I’ll be right back, Anna.”

  She seemed surprised by the statement. “Hmm? Oh! Okay,” she said, her face turning red. She looked back down at her console.

  “This had better be important,” Zak groused as he followed Cecil out of the room.

  “Oh, it is,” Cecil insisted, “it is.”

  Chapter 20

  The Privateer Ship Andromeda

  Deep Space

  While the ship was under acceleration, Marcus thought the journey was much more enjoyable. A steady 0.85 gravities of thrust wasn’t exactly real gravity, but it was enough to settle the stomach and allow the team of mercenaries to enjoy a solid meal. After forty-five minutes of physical fitness training and a quick shower, the hired guns gathered around a circular table in the ship’s common area. An impromptu game of poker had broken out while they ate a meal together.

  Marcus chewed his food idly while reading from his tablet. He was terrible at poker and wasn’t playing. Devree Starlighter, on the other hand, had a poker face worthy of a professional card sharp, and seemed to be cleaning up nicely. She didn’t even crack a smile as Randal Markgraf folded in frustration, but Wade laughed at him.

  Marcus chuckled and returned to his reading. On his screen was an encyclopedia, and he passed the time reading everything he could find on not only Zanzibar, but also Avalon and the Blackwood Family itself. The captain hadn’t been exaggerating when she explained that she’d come from a powerful family. Clan Blackwood was an ancient family line on Avalon, going back centuries to the colony’s founding in the Late Diaspora. They were one of a number of original stakeholders, colonial founding fathers who set themselves up as a sort of aristocracy.

  Avalon’s government was not democratic by any means. The heads of the Stakeholder Families served on a high council, a legislative body that held most of the political power. They would choose a High Councilor who served as the colony’s head of state, but his powers were specific and limited. The stakeholders’ power and prestige seemed to come from the size, wealth, population, and economic productivity of their respective provinces. Clan Blackwood, lords of Aberdeen Province, had been one of the most powerful and influential for centuries.

  The Blackwood & Associates Trading Company was one of the largest and most widely traveled merchant fleets from an independent world, and they had a virtual monopoly on interstellar trade to and from the Arthurian System. Their earnings had been slowly declining for years, however, as Avalon’s trade regulations made it difficult for them to break into new markets, and in the face of increasing competition from independent free traders.

  “So what’s our next stop, Marcus?” Devree asked, scooping an armful of poker chips toward her.

  Benjamin Halifax stopped frowning at his cards for a moment. �
�It’s probably Opal, lassie. Not many places to resupply this far out. Really, not enough traffic out this way for many traders to establish themselves, especially since to get to Zanzibar from here you have to go through Combine space. Most choose to take the long way ’round.”

  Randall Markgraf spoke up. “Why didn’t we take that way? Why in the hell are we going through Combine space if there’s another way?”

  “It’s a lot longer,” Wade answered, looking up from the game he was playing on his handheld. “There aren’t a lot of places to resupply that way, either, and they’re spread further out.”

  “A ship of the Andromeda’s class would be pushing its luck to take that route,” Marcus said. “She’s still a patrol ship, even if she’s a big one. She wasn’t designed for one-way missions this long. The captain didn’t want to risk running low on remass or stores.”

  “Let us not forget,” Ken Tanaka said, “that this is a rescue mission. Time is of the essence.”

  Wade nodded. “And the long route would add…hell, maybe months to the trip, depending.”

  “I’ve never heard of Opal,” Devree said.

  Halifax folded his cards. “I’m not surprised. The colony there is all of one small city, maybe ten thousand people. They’re independent, not affiliated with anyone. Not enough there for anyone to bother with, I suppose. The planet has a fully developed ecosystem, but it’s completely incompatible with terrestrial biology. The atmosphere is breathable, but only barely. Humans can’t even digest any of the native plant matter. Just growing food there is a challenge, needs to be done in greenhouses. There are hardly any metals close enough to the surface to bother mining. It’s not a good candidate for colonization.”

  “Why in the hell does anyone live there? How are we supposed to get supplies from this place?”

  “Just enough traffic to Zanzibar, and to the Orlov Combine, comes though this way that traders have set up shop. At least, they were there last time I came through this way.”