The Kel-Morian chuckled appreciatively. “Perfect … no loose ends. I like it.”
Kydd felt a heavy weight drop into the pit of his stomach. Resocialized! That was something that happened to other people. Like contracting a terrible disease—or taking a bullet in the head.
“So,” the Kel-Morian continued, “we have one last thing to discuss, and that’s the final split.”
Vanderspool said something inaudible as a Klaxon sounded, and Bennet shrugged. “How about thirds? You deliver the crystals, the colonel hijacks them during what looks like a Confederate raid, and I take them off planet.”
Kydd looked at Zander and back down again. Listening to the matter-of-fact way his father and the other men were preparing to steal valuable cargo and then brain-pan innocent soldiers made him sick to his stomach.
“That could work,” Vanderspool allowed thoughtfully. He looked straight at Bennet. “But what if I could offer you compensation of another kind?”
Bennet looked skeptical. “Such as?”
Vanderspool smiled slowly. “I know where your son, Ark, is, and in return for half of your cut, I’ll put you in touch with him.”
Kydd was shocked. How did Vanderspool know?
The offer was followed by a long moment of silence. And as the seconds ticked away Kydd felt his chest grow tight, so tight he could hardly breathe, as the head of the Bennet family took a moment to consider Vanderspool’s proposal.
Kydd couldn’t see any of their expressions from where he was, but he could imagine the slight widening of his father’s eyes, and the man’s otherwise impassive features. A face that even his mother admitted she couldn’t scan clearly. “So he’s in the military,” Bennet concluded. “Somewhere on Turaxis II.”
“I didn’t say that,” Vanderspool countered. “And it really doesn’t matter. The question is do you want your son—or would you prefer to have the money?”
Kydd frowned and bit his lip as his father spoke. “Ark could have made contact with us and he chose not to. Clearly he doesn’t care for us as we care for him. So wherever he is, he’s going to have to learn to be a man on his own. You have nothing to offer. My share stands at thirty-three percent.”
Kydd uttered a half-choked animal cry, but the sound was obscured by a loud ratcheting noise from next door, as Zander clapped a hand over his friend’s mouth. Kydd tried to push him away. That was when Zander wrapped his arms around his friend and threw both of them into a combined roll. Four rotations later they fell into the stygian blackness. Kydd took a blow to the head as he fell past a protruding support beam, and heard the roar of a passing boat as he splashed into the lake. The water was very cold, and as Kydd sank, he hoped the bottom would rise to claim him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Citing the passage of time, and having received no new information regarding their son’s tragic disappearance, Errol Bennet and his wife, Lisa, held a private memorial service for their son, Ark, who is presumed to have been murdered while on a walk in Tarsonis City.”
THE CITY OF DARBY, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
Doc was naked and sitting astride Tychus as the knock came on the door. They were just back from a night on the town and were a little high. “Go away!” Tychus ordered in his best parade-ground voice, and reached up to cup Cassidy’s breasts.
“It’s Zander,” a muffled voice said, from out in the hall. “We got trouble, Sarge … big trouble.”
“Damn it to hell,” Tychus said irritably, as Doc swung a shapely leg over his torso. “What am I? A goddamned babysitter?”
Cassidy pouted as she pulled a blanket up around her shoulders. She poked her foot out and playfully traced Tychus’s thigh with her big toe as he bent over to put on his boxers. With lightning speed, he reached out, wrapped one hand around both her ankles and began to tickle her feet, his favorite part of her. In a fit of screams and giggles, she squirmed around on the bed, kicking out at Tychus until he let go.
“You stay put,” Tychus warned, pointing at Doc. “I’m not done with you.”
Cassidy twisted herself back into the blanket and rolled onto her side, biting her lip and smiling up at Tychus. Her eyes were so glazed over from the drugs, it looked as though they were twinkling.
“This better be important,” Tychus said, as he made his way toward the door. “Because if it isn’t I’m going to rip your head off and use it as a spittoon.” Tychus thumbed the lock, opened the door, and frowned.
Zander was not only soaking wet, but supporting Kydd, who had a gash on the side of his head.
“What the hell happened to you two?”
“Sorry, Sarge,” Zander said apologetically, his eyes darting quickly from Tychus’s scant clothing to the tousled bed behind him. “Hey, Doc,” he said with a slight wave. The medic smiled and offered a half-assed salute.
“It’s bad, Tychus,” Zander continued in a hushed voice. “We overheard Vanderspool talking to Ryk’s dad. We’re talking Errol Bennet here—the head of an Old Family. They’re planning some big heist, and we’re right in the middle of it.
Tychus quickly ushered the guys into the room and glanced both ways to be sure the hallway was empty. He locked the door behind him. Zander wasn’t one to exaggerate, so Tychus knew something serious had gone down.
“We fell into the lake,” Zander continued. “Kydd has a gash on his head—he’s bleeding, as you can see, and I didn’t know where to take him. I don’t know who else is in on this.”
Tychus glanced at Kydd, who was trembling and drained of color, and seemed completely detached. “Hey, Doc! Get up,” Tychus said gruffly. “You got a cut to tend to.”
Doc was zoned out. Zander watched her slide off the bed and liked what he saw. But Tychus was right there so he had to avert his eyes as Cassidy rearranged the blanket prior to making her way over to a corner and rummaging through the pile of gear stored there. “Get him out of those wet clothes,” she ordered. “And get some hot caff from room service.”
Five minutes later a mostly clad Cassidy was there to clean Kydd’s cut and apply a plastiscab bandage. “Sorry your scar won’t be as ugly as the one Tychus has,” she said, “but you can try again later.”
Kydd’s eyes were still a bit dull, but he wasn’t shaking anymore, thanks to the bedspread that was wrapped around him. Room service arrived moments later, and if the bellman was surprised at the unusual scene inside, he showed no sign of it as Zander gave him a large tip.
Then, with both Zander and Kydd sipping hot drinks, it was time for them to share their story. Zander launched the narrative, but seconds later a heavyhearted Kydd began to chime in. Tychus grabbed a bottle of whiskey and dumped a generous dollop into Kydd’s drink; the booze took effect quickly and Kydd’s somber story soon transformed into an explosive, furious rant about his father. “The bastard disowned me,” Kydd said bitterly. “And he totally sold me out! But that’s not all… . He’s part of a plot to make us steal a billion dollars’ worth of ardeon crystals and then resocialize us! Turns out my father is a greedy scumbag! I’m going AWOL while I still can.”
Tychus sat sprawled on a reclining chair, still clad in nothing more than a pair of boxers. “Like hell you will,” he said, as he removed the stogie from his mouth long enough to blow some ashes off his massive chest. “You want to put it to the old man? Well, the best way to accomplish that is to take what he values the most … his money.” He took a deep swig out of the bottle.
It took Kydd a moment to absorb what Tychus was saying, but once he understood, a smile appeared on his face. “I like it, Sarge!” he said. “I like it a lot.”