Desert Stars (19 page)

“
All right,” said Jalil,
the barest shadow of misgiving on his face. He unslung his rifle
and walked to a fairly level part of the ground. Mira held her
breath.

He lay on his stomach and brought his
gun to bear, toggling his sight to zoom in on the subject. For
several moments, all was still—even the birds in the distant trees
grew silent. Then, with a tremendous crack that seemed to shake the
world, he fired. Mira jumped in surprise, her heart
pounding.

Did he make it?

As if in answer, the men cheered. Mira
let out a wild ululating cry, and for a brief moment, she forgot
the pilgrimage and her homesickness. Here, with her people, she was
home.

“
That was one hell of a
shot, kid,” said Kariym, helping Jalil back to his feet. The
instant he was up, Mira ran up and threw her arms around
him.

“
I knew you’d make it.”
For a split second, she almost gave him a kiss, but he blushed deep
red and quickly glanced down to check his rifle. Rebuffed, she felt
her own cheeks flush and turned away to hide it.

What’s come over
me?
she wondered to herself. Perhaps she’d
gotten a little too carried away—she hoped it hadn’t driven Jalil
further from her.

“
Well, aren’t you going to
give the man a target?” asked Abu Hussan.

“
What? Oh, yes, of
course.”

Jalil stepped away, his back turned to
the others as he scanned the plains below. As he did, Mira backed
off a short distance, away from the center of attention.

“
There,” he said, pointing
to some distant target. “Shoot off the branch jutting straight up
from that dead trunk over there.”

Ashraf clucked with his tongue and
shook his head. “No,” he said, “that’s much too easy. I’ll aim for
the tree growing out of the boulder on the other side of the
creek.”

What tree?
Mira wanted to ask. Instead, she folded her arms
and kept quiet.

As Jalil peered into the distance,
Ashraf lowered himself to his stomach, bringing his gun to bear. A
few moments later, they heard the crack of the shot. It seemed
almost to split the sky in half, it was so loud.

Kariym and Abu Hussan frowned and
squinted, and Jalil brought his scope back up to his eyes. Mira
waited; sure enough, a ragged cheer soon erupted from the men.
Jalil walked over to her, whistling under his breath.

“
Did he make it?”
whispered Mira.

“
Yes.” He turned to Ashraf
and clasped arms with him. “An excellent shot—twice as good as my
own.”

Kariym slapped them both on the back.
“Care for another round?”

Jalil laughed. “No, I’m not a fool.
Ashraf’s clearly the better of us.”

Not to me.

“
That may be true,” said
Kariym as he patted Jalil on the back, “but all the same, it’s damn
good to have you with us.”

A short popping noise sounded in the
distance. Mira froze where she stood.

“
What’s that?” she
asked.

The three men immediately stopped to
listen. Only the boiling pot by the hovercraft and the wind
rustling the yellow grass broke the silence—that, and the distant
sound of explosions.

“
Abu Hussan,” said Kariym,
his voice deathly serious, “power up the hovercraft and check the
radar. Ashraf and Jalil, come with me.”

“
What should I do?” asked
Mira, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

“
Pack up your stew and
break camp. Whatever is going on, we won’t be staying here much
longer.”

* * * * *

Jalil followed Kariym and Ashraf to
other side of the hill, keeping low to the ground as gunshots
sounded in the distance. He peered forward and saw flashes of
artillery and plasma fire in the vicinity of one of the local
villages.

Kariym and Ashraf crouched in the high
grass, and Jalil followed suit. They drew up close to each other,
and Kariym pulled out a pair of binoculars.

“
Exactly as I thought,”
said Kariym. “The warlords are on the move.” He handed the
binoculars to Ashraf. “Do you see any gunboats coming our
way?”

Ashraf looked on in silence for
several moments. Jalil felt his heart beat faster.

“
No,” Ashraf said as he
handed the binoculars back.

“
Good. No doubt they’ve
seen us, though.”

“
What’s going on?” asked
Jalil.

“
Here,” said Kariym,
handing him the binoculars. “Take a look.”

Jalil zoomed in on the valley below,
where smoke was rising from a few small buildings on the outskirts
of the village. Flames had already engulfed two of the structures
and were starting to fan out across the grassland. Upwind, about
five hovercraft gunboats slowly advanced, firing constant streams
of plasma into the settlement. Dozens of people swarmed out of the
houses. Some carried bags, others simply fled empty-handed. Jalil
saw a few women carrying babies, while others ran with young
children trailing behind, desperately trying to keep up.

The gunboats broke formation and fell
on the fleeing crowd. In less than a minute, they were scorched and
blasted to pieces; only those who fell back into the burning
buildings escaped the onslaught. The sight made Jalil sick to his
stomach.

“
What’s going
on?”

“
A massacre,” said Kariym
grimly. “The village must have done something to anger the local
warlord.”

One of the gunboats stopped, and a
squad of armed soldiers jumped out. From his vantage point, Jalil
saw two of the villagers waiting behind the nearest structure with
shovels in their hands. When the first gunman rounded the corner,
they jumped out and clubbed him down with their improvised weapons.
Within seconds, the other soldiers came to their comrade’s support,
firing at point blank. The villagers’ bloody innards splattered
across the wall as they slumped to the ground.

Jalil’s cheeks grew warm with rage,
and his grip on the binoculars tightened. “Where are the village’s
warriors?” he asked. “Why is no one trying to stop
this?”

“
The soldiers are their
warriors,” Kariym said softly.

“
What?” said Jalil,
looking up in horror. In the desert, it was forbidden to slay women
and children of any tribe, much less one’s own. He put down the
binoculars and eyed the other men carefully.

“
Is that true?”

“
More or less,” said
Ashraf, his face expressionless. “The warlord owns this territory,
and everyone in it. If he wants to slaughter them, that’s his own
affair.”

Jalil’s muscles stiffened. “How is
that possible?” he asked. “How could someone turn so savagely on
his own people?”

“
They aren’t his people,”
said Kariym as he took back the binoculars. “Tribal loyalties don’t
exist here—just the factions and those who fight for them. Now
come, let’s move on.”

Kariym and Ashraf stood up and started
walking back towards their camp. Jalil joined them, but his feet
felt heavy. He glanced back at the rising smoke plume and clenched
his fists.

“
We’ve got to stop it,” he
said, his heart racing. “We’ve got to—”

“
No,” said Kariym, turning
to face him. “We’re mercenaries, not peacekeepers. So long as the
warlords let us pass, we have no business interfering in their
affairs.”

“
But this is wrong!” Jalil
cried out. “Are you just going to let those people die? This is
shameful!”

“
And what would you
propose, boy?” Kariym asked, his usual jovial expression replaced
by hot anger. “Would you risk all our lives in an attack that would
almost certainly fail?”

“
No,” Jalil said, suddenly
feeling helpless. “I would—I would—”

“
You would
what?”

“
I don’t know, but I would
do
something.
”

“
You don’t think I am?”
Kariym said loudly. “I’m getting us all to safety. There’s no shame
in running from a fight we know we can’t win—no shame at
all.”

“
We could radio for
backup.”

Kariym let out a harsh laugh. “Radio
for backup? Ha! Do you really think Lucien cares what happens to
those people? He would dock our pay just for telling him about
it.”

Jalil opened his mouth to protest, but
found he had nothing to say. His arms hung limp by his sides as a
feeling of utter powerlessness swept over him, tempering his
indignation.

“
Come,” said Kariym,
turning back toward the camp. “Let’s head out.”

Kariym walked off, but Jalil lingered
for a moment, fists still clenched by his sides. As he hung his
head and followed the others back to the camp, Ashraf walked up
alongside him and put an arm around his shoulder.

“
At least we run because
we cannot stand,” he said, “not because we are cowards.”

Ashraf’s words gave Jalil little
comfort. The image of the villagers’ bloody entrails smeared across
the wall came back to his mind, and he shivered in
horror.

“
It’s not right,” he
muttered, to no one in particular.

“
Few things are,” said
Ashraf.

When they reached the camp, Abu Hassan
and Mira were loading the last of the supplies. In less than five
minutes, they were on the move, a plume of fresh smoke rising in
the sky to their rear.

Chapter 9

“
Naz-mi,” Lucien called
out in his loud monotone voice. Jalil stepped forward through the
crowd of mercenaries, leaving his bags with Mira.

It’s Najmi,
he wanted to say. By the time he reached the
front, however, the master sergeant was already calling out someone
else’s name. He nodded to Jalil and motioned with his eyes to the
desk behind him, where Gregor’s team of accountants issued the
payments.

“
Name and rank,” said the
man behind the desk, not bothering to look up from his computer. He
was thin and lanky, with pale skin and an orange
goattee.

“
Jalil Najmi,
private.”

The man struck a few keys, his face
expressionless. Jalil shifted on his feet and glanced back at Mira.
She stood behind the crowd, next to the row of parked hovercraft.
Their eyes met across the distance, and she smiled nervously at
him.

“
Datachip,” said the man.
Jalil blinked and turned to face the desk.

“
What?”

“
Do you have a cash
datachip or don’t you?”

Jalil fumbled in the pockets of his
robes. “I don’t have them with me. Just a moment, I’ll run
and—”

“
Don’t bother.” With a
scowl, the man pulled out an oddly shaped chip from a socket in the
computer’s side. “Here,” he said. “That should have it
all.”

“
Thank you,” said Jalil.
He held the datachip tightly in his hand as he shouldered his way
back through the crowd. Ashraf sat on a cinderblock, cleaning his
rifle, while Kariym leaned against the side of the parked
hovercraft, enjoying a cigarette. The smoke mingled with the oily
aftertaste in the air and made Jalil’s nose twitch.

“
How much did you get?”
Mira asked, holding onto her arm behind her back. She smiled at
Jalil as he walked over to her.

“
I don’t know,” he said,
examining the datachip. “I’ve never seen this particular style. All
I can say is it’d better be the five thousand they owe
us.”

“
Let me see it,” said
Kariym.

Jalil handed it over, and Kariym
squinted as he held it up to his face. Ashraf paused in his work
and glanced up at the three of them. A frown spread across Kariym’s
broad face, making Jalil’s stomach sink.

“
It says there’s only
forty-eight hundred and twelve Gaian credits loaded.”

Jalil’s arms tensed, and blood rushed
to his cheeks. He snatched the datachip from Kariym’s hands and
turned on his heel, headed back for the desk.

“
Whoa, there!” said
Kariym, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Jalil tried to shake it
off, but Kariym’s grip held him fast.

“
Let me go!” he shouted.
“They think they can cheat us twice?”

“
And risk losing it all?
Think, man—this is Gregor’s camp, and you’re far from home. If you
start a fight, who will stand by you?”

“
But he robbed
us!”

“
No, he didn’t,” said
Ashraf. “Those two hundred credits were for food and provisions. If
you read your contract, you’ll see that it’s all
included.”

“
The man’s right,” said
Kariym. “Be happy with what you’ve got.”

Jalil fumed with rage, but he held his
temper. He took a sharp breath and walked over to Mira, bending
over to pick up their bags.

“
Come on, let’s
go.”

“
At least the flights to
the temple are pretty cheap here,” said Ashraf. “You could probably
both get a ticket for five hundred, perhaps less.”