[Makebelieve] Fic: Mark of cain 3

[makebelieve archive]

CHAPTER THREE

Dalton's quiet gaze swept the bridge crew once more, before settling on the
woman seated at Operations. "Time to come clean, cara." His hushed words
exploded with the quiet power of a minor atomic bomb.

Arissa slanted him a cautious glance. Then, pulling a resigned face, she
lifted her chin and met his brutal stare full on. "I can't help wondering
what we're doing out here. If this trip was a mistake?"

"You would, perhaps, care to expand on that thought?" Dalton suggested, his
voice lowering dangerously.

A hot blush spread over her high cheekbones. "I wondered why we're going to
Euzkadi in the first place."

"That is my private business, cara."

"Nothing's private when it endangers the rest of us. And I doubt these
people could possibly have anything that might interest us."

"They have one thing that interests me," Dalton informed her. "Very much."

"Mayhap you'd be wanting to tell us what that's being, seeing as how it's
our lives you've put on the line," Ian said, the look of a wolf sighting its
prey in his eyes.

Moving to Dalton's side, Arissa rested a delicate hand on his chest and
searched his shuttered eyes. "Dal, why are you being so secretive? What are
you after?"

Dalton absently traced her delicate cheek, smiling darkly. "You will not
like it, cara mia."

"Big change," Ian drawled. "We're no liking how we're being kept in the dark
either, are we now?"

Dalton spread his hands before him, sighing. "Very well, then. The truth of
the matter is I am following a lead concerning A Aztore."

"A Aztore? The Basque revolutionary?" Ian demanded, shooting to his feet.
"You're telling us this is all about Adric Falcone?"

Dalton tipped his chin up, staring down his nose. "Exactly so."

"'Twas in my mind we'd determined A Aztore a dead issue. Literally."

Arissa laid a restraining hand on Ian's arm. "Dalton, what makes you believe
Falcone can be found on this planet?"

"Adric is of Basque descent."

"Aye, it's common knowledge, that. So what?"

"Euzkadi is the predominant Basque dominion. It stands the test of reason
that he would seek protection among his people."

"Come on, Dal," Ian said. "We've collected all manner of rumors concerning A
Aztore since he was lost in battle."

"Quite true."

"And have done a right fine job of ignoring them for the most part."

"True again, but Domani believes he's tracked Adric to Euzkadi. His word is
more than enough for me."

"We have reliable reports of his death," Arissa protested.

"The sheer number gives me cause to wonder."

"Ah, Judes, man, cut us a break," Ian snapped. "We've heard enough stories
on that fabled one to keep us running in circles from here to the Second
Coming if we've a mind to follow them all."

"As it is, we've run a damn long gauntlet," Arissa added, nodding. "From the
computer reporting he'd landed his shuttle safely after your ship was
engaged in battle over the Veegus homeworld where he was lost, too rumors of
his death on Haven.

"Nothing we've discovered hints at even a chance that he's alive. So what
makes this time so different? Why are we rushing to Euzkadi without taking
the most simple preflight precautions?"

"As I have already said...The information comes from Domani."

"But what makes his lead more valid than the rest?"

Dalton's teeth flashed in a biting smile that never quite warmed the
crystalline chill from his eyes. "Tell them," he commanded, nodding toward
the man now seated alone at Operations.

Domani swiveled toward the quarreling trio. Under the lights, soft blue
shades flickered beneath his pale skin, giving him a decidedly alien
appearance.

"At the request of our commander, I have granted A Aztore and his fate a
great deal of study," he said, his voice softly melodic. "In the end I
computed a line of cause-and-effect. From it, I was able to deduce the
course he has chosen since he was lost. He is on Euzkadi."

Domani's startling silver gaze locked on Dalton. "A Aztore is alive,
Commander. I am certain."

"Cause-and-effect?" Paris Sterling, a skittish, blonde man snapped, rounding
the curved briefing area situated on the lower deck in front of Operations
with a curious skipping step. "What is that, Domani?" he demanded, violently
waving the wine glass he held in his hand. "Exactly?"

Domani turned his mild gaze on the aggitaed man. "Common knowledge tells us
each action causes a reaction in the stream of reality. By tracing those
reactions, I have track A Aztore through time and space."

Turning his attention back, Domani sought out Dalton's veiled gaze. "There
can be no question, Commander. A Aztore has a powerful life force. He leaves
a strong mark on the space-time lines he travels through."

"Sounds like a lot of scientific mumbo jumbo, but for the sake of argument,
let's say I accept it," Paris said. "It raises a whole set of questions,
doesn't it? Like, if Adric's alive, why hasn't he made an attempt to contact
us? Can any of you tell me why he hasn't let us know he was alive?"

He drew an agitated hand across his mouth. "Hell, we're supposed to be a
team. Why would he hide from us? Why pretend to be dead? The very idea gives
me the shivers."

"Mayhap A Aztore dinna want us finding him."

"And just what's that supposed to...."

Ian cut Paris' protests off with an up-held hand. "Be hearing me out. The
war was hard on everyone it touched. We all lost, one way or another. Some
lost more than anyone could have expected when we were induced to fight.

"Mayhap A Aztore was one of the big losers in the long run. Mayhap he had
all the bloodbath he could stomach. 'Tis possible he found it easier to let
himself be listed among the dead. After all, who has more freedom than a
dead man?"

Paris flushed a deep angry red, waving his finger under Ian's nose. "You
jpined us after he was lost, so I'm gonna ignore what you're implying
flyboy. You never knew Adric, but I fought at his side for a damn long time.
A man gets to know how another man thinks when you depend on one another for
survival." He flicked a hostile glance toward Dalton and drained the last of
his wine. "Usually."

"Leave it alone, Paris," Dalton warned softly, plucking the empty glass from
the man's hand and sliding it into a recycle cubby.

Paris watched the glass disappear with longing before adding, "Anyway, I
guess I can vouch for Adric. And I'd swear he didn't abandon us willingly.
He wouldn't do that. Never."

"Every man has a breaking point," Arissa said. "Even the most zealous."

Paris shook his head adamantly. "Not Adric. Never Adric."

"He hasn't made any attempt to contact us," Arissa pressed her point
ruthlessly. "Don't fool yourself. We aren't hard to reach. Not if someone
really wanted to get a message to us. Especially if that person knew our
communications system as well as Falcone. But if he's actually alive, if
he's simply concerned with staying alive, he might not rate his chances
being very good running in our company."

"Rubbish," Paris maintained, though his voice quivered, lacking conviction.

"Is it? Domani, has Falcone been linked to any hostile activities directed
at the Coalition since he was lost?"

"His name has not been mentioned in the Coalition terrorist bulletins.
However, his erroneous death is a matter of public record." Domani lifted a
brawny shoulder, giving a small shrug. "A Aztore has covered his tracks as
well as any human could, Arissa. Everyone, including the Coalition, believes
he is dead."

"Everyone." Dalton chuckled, waving his hand to include them all. "Except
us, that is."

"A question," Ian said, then paused, coaxing a short burst of reverse thrust
from the retros. The ship slowed, preparing for the final approach to the
planet.

"If A Aztore is truly alive and disappeared by choice, if he has made a
conscious decision to separate himself from this damn rebellion, what's
making you think he'll join up with a wandering bunch of defeated rebels?
Hell and we're nothing but mercenaries if the truth be known. Just trying to
survive."

Dalton glided away from his crew, considering his answer with care. After a
moment, he pivoted on his heel, and clasping his hands behind him, let his
dangerous gaze slither chillingly over them. "Adric will come."

"Oh?" Paris questioned. "You think so?"

"He will come."

Paris rubbed the back of his neck, watching Dalton with open suspicion.
"Tell me something, Dal. What's Adric been doing on Euzkadi all this time?
Do you know?"

Dalton's heavy gaze rested on the fidgeting man, holding his silence.

Determination hardened Paris' hazel eyes. "Do you know, Dalton?"

"Oh, yes. I know."

Swallowing noisily, Paris gave his collar a jerk. "Well?"

Dalton scowled. The blasted man was behaving much like a small terrier with
his teeth in a bone. A bone not so easily shared. One that would not go down
at all well.

Still, unwilling or not, the question, once spoken, would not go away.

"Adric has been acting as a bounty hunter."

"A bounty hunter?" Arissa swung around, searching his carefully guarded
features with wide, frightened eyes. "You must be joking? Or insane?"

Dalton cocked his head thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so."

"Christ's blood, Dal. What keeps him from turning us over to the patrols if
we do find him?"

"That, cara mia, is the most beautifully predictable thing about his
character. You see, Adric's got a virtually suicidal flaw. An inherent good
will toward his fellow man."

"A bounty hunter with a soft heart? The job requirements deny such an idea.
I repeat. What keeps him from rolling on us?"

"Adric will not betray us, Arissa. Even if he has gone over, he's still an
idealist. More, he is indeed cursed with a soft heart, and an equally soft
head." Dalton smiled sardonically. "And he once considered me a trusted
friend."

"I don't believe this," Arissa squeaked. "You think he'll remain loyal
because you were friends? Judes, Dal, we carry enough combined credits on
our heads for most of our families to turn their backs on us. Damn a little
thing like friendship."

Ian scowled, nodding. "The lass be right. If A Aztore's gone into the
profession, he's nay about to stop and talk over old times. 'Tis more
likely, he'll shoot us down. Collect the bounty. Cover his own ass."

"Adric will join us."

"What if he has other ideas, Dalton?" Paris demanded, gnawing at his white
knuckles. "What then?"

"Not quite so sure of your idol?"

Paris shrugged. "Let's just say I'm nurturing a wait-and-see attitude under
the circumstances, Riss. But I must admit I'm curious, considering this
information, if it's true. Tell me, Dal, what will you do when Adric denies
our hand of friendship? Hit him over the head with a hammer?"

A deadly gleam burned in the depths of Dalton's crystalline eyes. "Nothing
so barbaric, my friend. No, if he has indeed turned his colors, betrayed his
self-proclaimed vow to my family, I'll simply kill him."

Kill him?" Paris blurted. "But why?"

Dalton's gaze glittered. "Adric is either with us or he is against us. If he
is against us, he knows too much about us."

Yessenia shook her head, sending riotous red hair swirling around her waist.
"Bullshit. You mean he knows too much about you, don't you, Dal? You and
Paris."

The chill bite of Dalton's smile hit her like an arctic blast. "Quite right,
my dear."


END PART 3

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