A meeting that was still work-related, yet it would not appear on any official schedules or agendas. A meeting that, if the previous ones were any indication, would prove quite lucrative indeed.
‘I thought we agreed, governor, same price as last time?’
They were in the wilderness to the east of Aranium’s capital, in a hostile terrain of mountains and rock. The figure standing in front of the governor was significantly less smartly dressed than Lychin. He wore a jacket and trousers that were faded, even torn in places, and sported a week’s worth of stubble at least. But then what was to be expected of a pirate like Sachael Dhane? Not that he ever referred to himself as such; rather he liked to think of himself as an entrepreneur, trader and all-round facilitator. Often he was a go-between, connecting people who would not necessarily associate with each other, and would never in a million years meet in person.
His principal crew were no less ragged, some wearing furs, others flak armour from several different sources. A couple sported augmetics: men and women who had been out in space, had survived out there, for far too long. Their ship, a modified Imperial transport that had been fired upon recently as the fresh blast marks testified, appeared just as sturdy, in spite of its somewhat shaky landing and the precarious way it teetered close to the edge of the cliff where they’d all gathered.
‘The agreement has been changed,’ Grail told him. ‘Twenty per cent extra; another two bags. Or you leave empty-handed.’
Dhane muttered something under his breath, looked around at his people, then said: ‘And what if I refuse?’
Grail could see Dhane’s crew tensing, as was Russart, the only member of his security team present for this exchange. The less people who knew about these sorts of affairs the better, and he trusted so very few with secrets like these. It was safer that way. He was confident that his bodyguard was the better shot, that he could pick off all of them before they could even raise their weapons, but he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
‘Well, then I suppose you had better begin looking for another supplier.’ Grail also knew that was more trouble than it was worth; they had a mutually beneficial ongoing arrangement and neither Dhane nor his buyer would want to jeopardise it. Certainly not for twenty per cent. ‘Do we have a deal?’
Dhane sighed, then nodded. ‘We do,’ he conceded.
‘Good, then let’s get on with our business.’
The pirate gestured for the payment to be brought forward and placed in front of Grail for inspection. At the same time, Dhane’s own slaves – workers he kept on board for menial labour, all dressed the same in dark grey coveralls – busied themselves loading up the containers of ore which had been deposited here earlier by servitors. Enough ore for their purposes, but not too much. No amount that would take away from the war effort, Grail said to himself. Nothing that would really be noticed, especially with their rate of production.
As Grail looked up from the payment, admiring the indigo glow of the precious stones in the bag he was holding, he thought he saw something move near the cargo bay door of Dhane’s ship; beyond, in the shadows, which had lengthened now the suns had fallen in the sky. Grail’s skin was prickling as he stepped forward, looking past the workers.
Yes, there! Definite movement. A figure, the figure from his dream. The blackness given form. Larger now than ever, bigger than a man or woman surely. Rising, writhing even; something flowing through the dark, like water in a stream. Except it was curling up and around, glistening, joined by more of its kind. Grail’s eyes narrowed and he thought he saw shapes there that looked worm-like in nature, coiling and arching, only their outlines visible. And all the while Dhane’s slaves were just getting on with their task, loading up the ore, apparently seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
More of the… tentacles, that was the only way of describing them, were joining the first. Revealing themselves slowly, letting themselves be seen as whatever had been hiding in the darkness finally came forward, catching the edges of the ship’s floodlights. Grail let out a murmur, a small cry of shock when he realised that the tentacles were emanating from the thing’s face. That they actually were the face, slipping and sliding in and out of each other, snaking out of its head. Something alien Dhane must have inadvertently brought with him, which had been clinging to the outside of the ship!
He dropped the bag he was holding and pointed over at the creature, attempting to speak, but nothing emerging. Then he looked over at Russart, jabbing his finger in the direction of the worm-headed thing as he did so, finding his voice again: ‘Don’t you… Don’t you see it?’
‘See?’ Russart looked, but as the governor himself saw when he followed the man’s gaze, there was nothing but blackness out there now. Nothing but night. Dhane and his crew, not to mention the slaves, had stopped what they were doing and were watching the governor.
‘I…’ he said, blinking once, twice. Still there was nothing to see. No figure, no tentacles.
‘What are you gawping at? Get your people back to work!’ Russart shouted at Dhane, who scowled but passed on the command.
Finish your work!
Grail felt something touch his arm and flinched, then realised it was only his aide’s hand. ‘Tobias?’ Russart asked in hushed tones. ‘What is it?’
Grail stared at his aide, open-mouthed. ‘I-I thought I saw…’
‘What?’
Grail shook his head, then composed himself. ‘It was nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
‘But you–’
‘Russart,’ Grail said, stooping to retrieve the bag of gems, ‘I told you it was nothing. And how many times do I have to remind you to refer to me as Governor Grail?’
‘I’m sorry, but…’ It was the square-jawed man’s turn to shake his head. ‘Nobody heard me, and Dhane’s bandits don’t care.’
‘That’s not the point!’ Grail retorted. ‘It’s about authority, about respect.’
‘You think I don’t respect you?’
Grail sighed. ‘Let the matter be, Russart. Please.’ He handed him the bag of gems. ‘Take all of these to the shuttle and prepare for departure. I’ll join you in a moment.’
Russart nodded reluctantly, turning to leave when Grail added: ‘And be happy, my friend – we will have much to celebrate this coming weekend. Other business to attend to.’ Another nod, and Russart left the governor alone, to watch the last of the containers being loaded up onto Dhane’s ship. To watch the vessel itself rise, just as awkwardly as it had landed, and sail off into the night sky.
Grail stared at the space where he’d seen… imagined he’d seen the monstrous thing for a few more moments, then he too turned and entered the shuttle, ready to return home.
Grail’s usual celebrations, at least the ones he enjoyed most, were always of a more private nature.
Gambling, yes, but his tastes were wide-ranging. And nowhere was this more in evidence than at an establishment run by a woman by the name of Madame Ellada. Located up yet another of those run-down back alleys, her place guaranteed discretion. Ellada’s skilled employees were most accommodating, especially if the price was right. A business transaction of a different kind.
Grail had left Russart to his own devices in a room not far away, while he indulged himself. Intoxicants were always readily available, as well. Stimulants, relaxants… They were all on hand to ensure maximum pleasure, washed down with wine or spirits.
Consequently, much of the evening’s entertainment went by in a blur. Desires were sated – Grail’s anyway, which was all that counted – and it was only towards the end of the allotted time he’d paid for that Grail began to get a sense that something was wrong. Very wrong indeed, actually. The stimms and alcohol had dulled it, but the tingling was still there. That warning sign he always felt before–
His first clue was some sort of flapping noise, as if a bird had found its way into the room and was unable to get out again. The lighting was subdued – not pitch black, but not particularly bright either – so when Grail attempted to trace the sound, clumsily climbing over pillows and flesh alike, he could see very little of what might be responsible for it.
‘Where… where are you going?’ asked one of the girls with him, and exchanged glances with her companions.
Grail did not reply, he just continued to search, the flapping growing louder and louder. He whirled when he heard something else behind him, a swishing this time, followed by a thrashing noise. As if someone was wielding a whip; the kind that were often used on his workforce if they were falling behind.
What’s in here with us? he asked himself.
Grail had the distinct feeling he was being watched. No matter which way he crawled or where he tried to hide, he couldn’t escape the scrutiny of whatever was out there in the shadows. He swallowed dryly, backing away up the bed; almost falling off before regaining his balance.
