Prologue
May 2404
Port Saud Station
"Djiwara."
The merchant factor was a bit older, a bit heavier, and a bit grayer than Owen Garrett remembered; but it had been seven years since he'd met him, arriving here after escaping from Center aboard Negri Sembilan. It was a different universe then.
It was a different universe now.
Djiwara turned from the platform that overlooked the big holo display that showed incoming and outgoing traffic from Port Saud. That area had been a big empty wall with exposed beams, but now it was high-tech—at least for a dead-end backwater like Port Saud. The merchant still had the same scowl, though.
"I know you," he said quietly.
"I bet you never forget a face," Owen answered. "Especially when you point a gun at it."
"Where's your big friend?"
"You mean Rafe? He had a previous commitment with the Imperial Government. He's got Wallenstein now."
"Big shot," Djiwara said. He walked toward Owen and then past him, so that Owen had to hurry to keep up. "So," Djiwara added without looking, "to what do I owe this honor? God knows, no one just 'stops by' Port Saud."
"I didn't even 'stop by' because I like your pretty face."
"Right." Djiwara scratched his beard. It had some gray in it as well. "Well, that's no surprise, I guess."
"I have a proposition for you."
"Right," Djiwara repeated. They began to walk along the concourse, still busy as ever. The merchant looked up and down, side to side. "Everyone has a proposition for me. Even you, Garrett."
"So you remember my name, too."
"I remember the name of everyone I point a gun at."
Garrett smiled inside his scowl.
They reached Djiwara's office, which was the same overcrowded museum of curiosities he remembered. Djiwara settled himself behind the desk; Owen sat in front of it.
"Is this room safe?"
"No place is safe." Djiwara picked up a comp from a corner of his desk and touched it on its edge; there was a low-pitched hum. "You've got about five minutes before some . . . one notices."
"It won't take that long." Owen looked Djiwara in the eye. "You knew what was going on when I was here last. I mean to do something about it now."
Djiwara smiled. "You want my help with this."
"That's right."
"You're insane."
Owen looked away for a moment and then looked back at Djiwara, his eyes intense.
"That might be, but I want your help anyway. We're going to get rid of the infection on this station."
"Just like that. And how are we supposed to find the hostiles? Or do you plan to just shoot everyone you don't like the look of?"
Owen's expression half suggested he might just do that, but instead he said, "I can see through the disguise. I can tell you who the bugs are, Djiwara." Owen folded his hands in his lap. "That must be worth something to you."
"Oh, it is, it is. Quite a lot. Of course, I have to believe your story enough to be willing to risk my life on it."
"You believed the last story we told you seven years ago."
"I did, didn't I?" Djiwara settled himself in his chair. "And it turned out you were telling the truth. All right, Garrett. Answer me another question, then. Why now, and why here?"
"That's two questions."
"Answer them both, damn it."
"All right. Why 'here' is easy: When I was here last, there were a few bugs that really, really pissed me off. I have a score to settle. Why 'now' is almost as easy: I finally got back here—I've had other commitments."
"Let me guess—the Imperial Government." Djiwara leaned forward. "Wait a minute. The emperor has guards that can sniff out bugs. You've been working with them."
"I taught them. For most of the last seven years I've been at the Imperial Court, teaching the Guardians their moves."
"Guardians. Creepy lot, that group."
"Nice of you to say so. Anyway, I've had enough—I turned it over to St. Giles and left."
"Don't know the name."
"Antonio St. Giles. My deputy for the last few years. He's what makes them creepy, at least in part: he takes a pretty mystical view of the whole thing."
"So you came here. You're pretty desperate, aren't you, Garrett?"
"No." Owen unfolded his hands and grabbed the arms of his chair. "No, I'm not desperate. I'm insane, remember? And I'm very, very angry. I'm angry about watching friends die in front of me, I'm angry about the way we're fighting this war.
"I want the bugs dead, Djiwara. Every last one of them."
"Starting here at Port Saud. Because no one would notice for a while."
"Very perceptive." Owen leaned forward now, the anger in his eyes enough to scare Djiwara a little bit. "But there's something else. You were Damien Abbas' friend, and I believe you and I could be friends—and partners. You're the perfect person to help me disappear."
"'Disappear'?"
"Permanent vacation," Owen answered. "No more 'Guardian Commander' for me. Tonio can have it."
Djiwara didn't say anything in response, but raised one eyebrow and again leaned a little forward in his chair.
"I'm not going to give you a story about destiny or try to tell you about the future," Owen continued. "That's the zor party line: they want you to think that they saw all of this coming years ago. My old CO, Admiral Laperriere, let herself be pulled into reenacting a zor legend; I don't really know what they expected her to do in the end, but at least she's doing it her way. They tried to do the same thing to me, but it turned out to be a lie they made up.
"But I do know that I have this talent and that I intend to use it. And I know that I want your help. I need your help."
Djiwara looked around his cluttered arrangements, as if he were taking stock of them somehow.
"You know, don't you, that sooner or later the bugs will figure out something's happened here at this piece-of-crap station. When they do, they're going to come looking."
"I know."
"You can't stand up against a whole army of the damn things. The Imperial forces have been at war for seven years and it's all they can handle."
"I know that, too; I don't intend to. By the time they come after us, we'll be long gone."
"What about the people here? Aren't a lot of innocent bystanders going to be killed?"
"They can be long gone, as well. Or they can stay and be killed . . . or enslaved. They'll get their warning; they can make their choice."
"One more question. Why me?"
"I can't do it alone. And as I said, you were Captain Abbas' friend. He died on a planet far outside the Empire for no reason. He was used and thrown away."
"By the bugs?"
"No." Owen looked Djiwara straight in the eye. "By the people who are manipulating the bugs—an enemy we can't really see. Sooner or later we're going to have a reckoning with them, too.
"In the meanwhile, we have to get rid of the enemy we can see. Are you with me or not?"
Djiwara looked at the comp at the corner of his desk. "Your five minutes are up, Garrett."
"Are you with me or not?" Owen repeated.
The merchant reached into a compartment of his desk and drew out a pistol, then set it down on an unoccupied place.
"I'm with you," he said.