Now, he watched as two figures melted out of the darkness and hurried across Tajora Street. On the alert, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. His eyes darted into the shadows. No one else there. Still, if Arava was working for Qadir, he didn’t know how much she could be trusted.
He stood his ground as she approached on the run, her cloak snapping, her footfalls crisp, staccato counterpoints to the loping, heavier strides of the larger figure which Halak saw now was a huge, blue-skinned Bolian male.
“Are you out of your mind?”Arava kept her hood up so her features were in total darkness, and Halak got more of an impression of her face than a good look. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
“Hello, Arava,” said Halak. His tone was calm, but he was conscious of his phaser against his back, as if the weapon had gotten white-hot and branded his skin. “Good to see you, too.” A quick glance told Halak that the Bolian had two weapons, one on either hip. “Nice toy. Is he new?”
“My bodyguard,” Arava said fiercely, “not a toy. You know that, Samir, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
“How did you know Iwas here?”
“Maybe the question should be, who doesn’t?” Arava gave a laugh that wasn’t. “I was practically the last person to hear.” A jerk of the head toward Batra: “Who’s she?”
Halak put a hand on Batra’s shoulder before she could answer. “She’s a friend, Arava. She’s from my ship.”
“Can she be trusted?”
“This does seem to be the topic of the day,” Batra broke in. She shook off Halak’s hand. “Since I’m here and I’m with Samir, the question’s moot.”
“I trust her,” Halak said. “That should be enough for you, Arava.”
He was keenly aware of how vulnerable they were, out in the open like this. “I think we should continue this inside somewhere, don’t you?”
The Bolian spoke for the first time, his voice surprisingly high for such a large man. “He’s right.”
“Okay,” said Arava. She jerked her head to the right. “Over there.”
She started for a nearby warehouse, a blocky structure with no windows that squatted at the near side of a pier lined with identical warehouses. Following after, Halak darted looks up and down the street. The street seemed empty. He wondered, briefly, how Arava had known exactly where to intercept them, and then it occurred to him that Qadir’s men must have monitored their progress as soon as he and Batra had turned onto Tajora. Dalal was right; he was getting soft. Likely they’d been followed before, perhaps as they’d left Dalal’s apartment.
And the men who attacked them? Strictly speaking, he’d told the truth. He hadn’t recognized them, and hadn’t a clue who they worked for. Qadir, or the Orion Syndicate? Maybe if he had a few moments alone with Arava, he’d ask her what she knew, or had heard.
God, Ani.He owed her more than his life. Yes, there were family matters to consider: his loyalty to Dalal, for one. As for Baatin…Halak’s heart twisted with pain. He’d bear the guilt for Baatin for the rest of his life, and he wanted to make things right by Arava, but not if it meant endangering Batra more than he already had.
Arava keyed a combination on a magnetic lock, verified her identity via retinal scan, and ushered them inside a small side door set well away from the street. She had the Bolian—who she called Matsaro—stand guard outside then led the way into the building.
“Lights,” said Arava. “Half.”
Instantly, the interior of the warehouse was suffused with a dusky yellow light. The space was twice the size of a standard cargo bay and three times as high. The warehouse was packed with crates and containers stacked floor to ceiling in long precise rows running from the entrance to a larger set of doors at the very end. Halak browsed the containers for markings, or an indication of destination or origin, and found none. Understandable: Making things appear and disappear was Qadir’s stock and trade. He was sure some of the crates were legitimate, but most probably weren’t.
“Well,” said Arava, shrugging out of her cloak and tossing it onto a nearby barrel. Her face was a smooth oval, and her hair—a golden, honey blonde—spilled about her shoulders. “The prodigal son returns. Your timing stinks. What, did you think Qadir would just forget?”
Halak heard Batra’s sudden intake of breath. “Actually, I didn’t pick the time,” said Halak, choosing not to address what Qadir might, or might not forget. “Dalal contacted me. Said I had to talk some sense into you.”
“Sense.” Arava gave that nonlaugh again. She hugged her arms to her chest, as if she were cold. With her blonde hair and large, brown-black eyes, she looked very small to Halak, almost like a child. But there was a hard edge to her now, a cynicism and bitterness he didn’t remember. The Arava he’d left behind had been a young, fresh-faced woman. He saw now the changes that time—and tragedy—had inscribed on her features. A tracery of tiny lines fanned from the corners of her eyes and her face was white and pinched, with a furrow chiseled into either side of her nose, as if she never really found anything to smile about.
“Dalal doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” said Arava, crossly. “She’s meddling in things that aren’t her concern.”
“Really? She’s concerned enough about you to stay on this godforsaken planet.”
“That’s her choice.”
“Come on, Arava. Dalal’s known you since you were old enough to spit.”
Arava gave Halak a narrow look. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re with Qadir, you aren’t.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I won’t remind you who that sounds like.”
That stung, as he’d meant it to. Halak saw a flash of pain crease her brow. “That wasn’t fair,” she said.
“I don’t care about what’s fair. I care about what’s right. I care about living, and I care about you. Life isn’t fair, Arava. I’m just trying to help you stay alive, so we can have debates about how unfair life is when we’re old and gray.”
“I was born old. You, of all people, ought to know that.”
“You’re saying that the people who love you ought to look the other way? Let you choose a path that can only end very badly?”
“I know the risks.”
“Do you?” Halak erased the distance between them until he stood just centimeters away. He didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. Arava, Arava, please listen to me….“Do you really?”
Arava swallowed, a loud liquid sound in the sudden silence. Her eyes were bright, but her voice was firm. “I know what I’m doing. Dalal’s concern won’t change a thing. The risks have always been there, they’re not going to go away. And until I finish, no place I run will be far enough. As for risk,” she lifted her chin in the direction of his left arm, “you’re the one who ought to be worried. The way you’re holding yourself, looks to me like they cut you up pretty good.”
“They did all right. We did better.”
“Yeah? You think so? Let me tell you something, Samir. You walked away because you had Lady Luck on your side, nothing more and nothing less. Next time, maybe, you won’t be so lucky. Maybe Lady Luck’ll take a hike.”
“No, she won’t,” said Batra. “Not a chance in hell.”
Halak flashed her a tight, grateful smile before turning back to Arava. “Luck, no luck…you know what I think? I think I was meantto walk away. Even out of uniform, my being in Starfleet has certain advantages. Kill me, and Qadir attracts too much attention. Scaring me off serves just fine. I think this, us meeting and contactwith Starfleet”—he used his hand to indicate the space between them—“this is what Qadir wants to avoid.”
“You?”Arava made a derisive sound. “You’re too obvious. He’s worried about the ones he can’tsee.”
“And how many of those are there?”
Alarm flickered across Arava’s face, and her eyes narrowed: a warning. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Samir.”