In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) Page 26

  “To halo and back,” I said with a wry grin.

  He gave me a puzzled look. “Where?”

  “Later,” I said, shrugging off his question. “How long until Izin disarms the shackle drone?”

  “Soon. A crawler’s working on the self-destruct now and two more are standing by with a skin-patch as soon as we push it off.”

  “No sign of the Drakes?”

  “Not yet.” He nodded to a timer counting down on the screen. We still had an hour and forty three minutes left. “That’s assuming they’re waiting at Acheron Station. If the Drakes jumped out to listen, they could be here anytime.”

  They didn’t know which way we’d gone, so they’d have to disperse a lot of ships to find us early. More likely they’d wait for our signature to reach them, then come out with overwhelming force. “We’re getting underway as soon as Izin gives us clearance.”

  I left Jase watching the sensors and hurried to my stateroom to skim the Merak Star’s log. She’d rendezvoused with the Cyclops and other Brotherhood ships every six to eight weeks for several years, delivering munitions and often receiving nothing in return. Only three times had she picked up return cargo, including the transfer on Novo Pantanal. Nazari had simply logged it as ‘sealed containers’, his cryptic way of describing kidnapped Kesarn and their stolen tech. The common denominator was every voyage started and finished in the Duranis System.

  When I finished reviewing the Merak Star’s log, I returned to the flight deck where the timer was down to twenty minutes. The shackle drone was drifting away from the ship and Izin’s hull crawlers were patching the hole in our hull.

  “Izin is almost done,” Jase said.

  “Just in time,” I said, activating my console’s nav-mode and selecting the Paraxos System from our TC astrographics database, unnoticed by Jase who was watching for Drake ships. After a minute, I reset the autonav for Duranis-A, just as Izin arrived on the flight deck and climbed onto the third couch behind the two piloting positions.

  “If a Drake ship appears, Captain,” he said, “you can engage the superluminal drive. We’ll lose the hull crawlers, but the ship is safe to fly.”

  “The crawlers have time,” I said, more concerned that Gern Vrate got a good read of our destination than I was for a couple of replaceable hullbots.

  Izin glanced at the destination visible on the autonav display in front of me. “There’s no Society Exchange in the Duranis System, Captain, only the Merak Star’s customers.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are we continuing a vendetta we cannot hope to resolve?” he asked. “Perhaps we should drop it now and wait for a better opportunity to deal with Domar Trask.”

  Jase gave me a furtive look, clearly having been thinking the same thing. If I was just settling a personal score, they’d be right.

  “If you’re looking for a paying job, the Orie mercs all have prices on their heads.” It wasn’t true, but Lena would ante up to preserve my cover, making it true. The Society ran a bounty board for Earth Navy and for private security contractors, some of which were EIS kill missions in disguise. I steered clear of them all, even the EIS hits, because I was deep cover, not assassination. That didn’t mean I couldn’t pretend to be dishing out vigilante justice, if it convinced them to go along with it.

  “Are we bounty hunters now?” Izin asked. “Or is this a Captain Ahab obsession?”

  And Trask was my Moby Dick? Izin must be thinking I’d lost my mind taking such risks simply for revenge.

  Jase brightened, declaring with bravado, “I always thought I’d make a good bounty hunter!”

  “It’s neither,” I said, deciding to give them part of the truth. “It’s my brother.”

  “Your brother? I thought he was dead.”

  “He’s Rix, Captain of the Cyclops.” And a Mataron collaborator!

  “He’s a Drake!” Jase exclaimed incredulously.

  “Not just any Drake. He’s a leader, maybe the leader of the Drakes.”

  “Damn!”

  “There’s more,” I said. “The Mataron, Hazrik a’Gitor – you remember him? He’s behind this. It’s why Gern Vrate was after me, to hand me over to the Matarons, except I made a deal with Vrate. He doesn’t give me to the snakeheads and I track down the three Kesarn he’s looking for. The only way to do that is to find my brother and he’s on his way to Duranis right now.” I turned to Izin. “It’s beyond revenge, beyond obsession, it’s family.”

  Izin’s bulging eyes blinked horizontally, a long slow sweep he only did when his prodigious intellect was overloaded with indecision. “A spawn matter is a heavy burden, Captain.”

  “Especially when you only have one brother, not twenty thousand,” I added meaningfully.

  Izin pondered the differences between our two species, then said, “I understand.”

  I gave Jase a quizzical look.

  He grinned. “I was charging weapons as soon as you said there was a price on their heads!”

  I made a mental note not to have Lena pay too many credits for the Orie mercs. I didn’t want Jase getting a taste for bounty hunting.

  Chapter Seven : Duranis-A

  Type 1A Supernova Progenitor Companion

  Red Giant Star, Duranis Binary

  Evacuation Zone, Outer Draco

  802 light years from Sol

  Transient population

  Duranis-A was a red giant, a doomed star slowly expanding as it consumed the last of its fuel. It had already swallowed three terrestrial planets and was threatening to do the same to the inner most gas giant, but time was against it. Duranis-B, its tiny white dwarf companion, was now pulling vast quantities of super heated gas from the red giant’s surface, creating a glowing river of light arcing through the blackness of space between the two stars. The red-orange gas spiraled down into a radiant disk surrounding the white dwarf before falling onto the tiny white star’s surface, dramatically increasing its mass and core temperature.

  It made little Duranis-B a cosmic time bomb.

  The white dwarf had entered the supernova convection phase three centuries ago, which in cosmic terms placed it a mere heartbeat from catastrophe. In human terms, Duranis-B would not explode for another seven hundred years, but when it blew, its few weeks of glory would produce more energy than the entire Milky Way galaxy would in a year.

  Five thousand years ago, the Forum had ordered every inhabited world within thirty light years to begin evacuating, within eighty if they were aligned with the white dwarf’s axis. It was a ban on settlement Earth Council had endorsed, which was why there were no human settlements within forty light years and why I’d never been near the Duranis Systems.

  “No ships close,” Jase reported.

  “The Cyclops is out there somewhere,” I warned, raising our battle shield.

  Jase studied the transponder signals, then shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think so, Skipper.”

  Dozens of contact markers began appearing on screen, none of which were combat vessels. They were all civilian ships parked halfway across the system above a yellow-brown gas giant orbiting Duranis-A twenty five degrees from the river of gas dissecting the heavens. Far from immediate danger, the gas giant provided an ideal vantage point for one of the most spectacular panoramas in Mapped Space.

  “No shields up, no weapons charging on any ships,” Jase confirmed with growing confusion.

  “They’re all lit up like they don’t care who sees them,” I said, surprised.

  “Wait a minute!” Jase said as he oriented our optics toward the civilian flotilla. “I’ve got four hot spots, big ones, no transponders. There! At the edges!”

  Four dark, prolate ellipsoids turned slowly on their axes, silently guarding the flotilla. They were Nortin Armory’s defense platforms, the kind used for the planetary defense of Core System worlds. Bristling with heavy weapons and loaded with shields and armor, they were reason enough for the civilian flotilla to have no safety concerns.

  At the flot
illa’s center was an enormous starliner with two rows of small ships docked along each side and dozens more in synchronized orbits nearby. The small ships were mostly luxury yachts, executive transports and commercial vessels while the whale in their midst was the super starliner Aphrodite, an eight hundred thousand tonne palace that had no place being outside Core System space. She was lit by thousands of lights and by her neutrino signature which dwarfed the energy emissions of all the other ships combined. If she was a secret raider base, she was a very conspicuous one.

  “Open a channel,” I said.

  “Which one?” Jase asked perplexed as his eyes scanned all the designated commlinks. “They’re all in use.” He patched them into the flight deck’s sound system, surfing through one channel after another.

  “I want to confirm dinner reservations for a party of ten at Pharaoh’s …”

  “… promised me an exclusive interview!”

  “What do you mean KXN have the ball room?”

  “… OK, ten thousand credits, but I have to be near Vice-Chancellor Liang.”

  “… our Denedus hub has twelve distribution ships on standby, but it’ll take five months to get the datacast back there from here!”

  Jase silenced the chatter. “They’re all like that.”

  “I guess we should crash the party,” I said. “Switch on the transponder.”

  “If the Drakes are out there–”

  “They know enough not to tangle with those Nortin platforms, and I don’t want them blasting us when we jump in.”

  Confident we weren’t going to put Nortin Armory’s fabled auto targeting systems to the test, we performed a sub-second superluminal leap across the Duranis-A system to join the insects swarming around the majestic Aphrodite. No one even noticed our arrival. We tried contacting the starliner and were politely transferred from one department to another until we were finally put in contact with a tired young woman in a smart blue hotel uniform.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but all permanent ship berths are taken and I have a waiting list,” she said in a courteous, mildly bored tone. “Your chauffeur can drop you at a boarding station if you wish to use the ship’s facilities, but docking is limited to fifteen minutes per twelve hour rotation. One thousand credits per docking cycle.”

  Jase gave me an incredulous look, silently mouthing the word ‘chauffeur’?

  “What if I book a cabin?”

  “Paying guests are permitted one free docking per twenty four hours, sir. Starburst Cabins start at ten thousand credits per twenty four hours, ranging up to one million credits per day for our Grand Galaxy Suites. This includes full access to all facilities and complimentary drinks in any of our casinos.”

  Jase eyes widened at the exorbitant prices. “We’re in the wrong business!”

  “I’ll take the cheapest cabin,” I said.

  “Unfortunately sir, the Starburst Cabins are fully booked. The first vacancy is in four days.”

  “Are you always this full?”

  “Not usually. It’s because we’re hosting the Core Systems Trade and Development Congress. If you wish to purchase Congress admission, we have individual, corporate and sponsor level packages, however, the Opening Night Gala Dinner is sold out.”

  “Isn’t Duranis kind of remote for something like that?”

  “They wanted somewhere with a spectacular view, sir, for the networks.”

  “What networks?”

  “There are thirty four data streamers and over a hundred sim-casters here, sir, including the six all-band majors from Earth. Not all are hotel guests, of course. If you’d like the full list, I could connect you with traffic control. This is reservations.”

  “No thanks. Just give me one of your fifteen minute, thousand credit docking slots so my chauffeur can drop me off.” I gave Jase a wink.

  He scowled, unimpressed at his ignominious demotion from starship pilot to chauffeur.

  The Silver Lining docked at an airlock adjoining one of Aphrodite’s many hanger decks. The hanger was crammed full of small craft: ferries, sub-light transports, pleasure yachts and a row of the liner’s own white hulled, gold trimmed launches. A huge space door dominated the hull-side bulkhead while the aft facing wall opened into a sophisticated engineering workshop filled with white clad engineers and state of the art repair bots.

  As soon as I set foot inside the hanger, a ship security officer in a dark uniform pointed me to a vending panel on the inboard bulkhead, located beside a transparent pressure door. Beyond the door was a carpeted corridor lavishly decorated with holosculptures and lightboards advertising the Aphrodite’s many diversions.

  “Purchase your all-day Pleasure Pass here, sir,” the vending panel announced as I approached. A glowing red arrow pointed to an Earth Bank reader which scanned my vault key and quickly relieved me of a thousand credits for docking the Silver Lining and another two thousand for unlimited access to the ship’s amenities. In return, I received a digitized rectangular tag that opened public doors and allowed the ship to track my movements.

  “Please familiarize yourself with the immersion code before entering. The Aphrodite’s captain and crew thank you for your purchase and hope you enjoy your stay.”

  The transparent door slid open as a lightboard illuminated, explaining what the immersion code was. In terse language it advised me that no stims, pressure suits, predatory creatures, toxic organisms or weapons of any kind were permitted beyond that point, and that scanners throughout the ship ensured the code was obeyed at all times. While it didn’t say what the penalty for breaching the code was, I was glad I’d followed the pre-docking advisory and left my gun on the ship.

  I started down the corridor, holding a small communicator to my lips, “Jase, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Skipper.”

  The signal was encrypted, nothing fancy, just enough to give me a few hours of anonymity.

  “I’m in. Stay close in case I have to get out fast.”

  The corridor opened into a small area bordered by an arc of translucent infopanes, beyond which was a huge tropical pool and garden area hundreds of meters across.

  “Trade congress,” I said to one of the rectangular infopanes.

  A ship’s schematic appeared showing my present location relative to a ten thousand seat theater called Constellation Hall, the center piece of the congress. It was flanked by smaller auditoriums and a media center that coordinated coverage of the proceedings.

  “What’s happening at Constellation Hall?”

  “The Plenary Session is in progress, sir. Official delegates only,” it replied, obviously aware the pass I carried didn’t give me access. “If you would like to purchase a Congress Package, I am authorized to–”

  “No thanks.” Buying a package would let the Aphrodite know where I was headed. I was already acutely aware my all-day Pleasure Pass would tell the Nortin Armory’s robot guns outside which ship to shoot at if I got into trouble, which was why I needed to get my hands on a replacement.

  I stepped between the infopanes and headed toward a towering fountain spraying water over white nymph statues standing in a shallow pool. Beyond the fountain were swimming pools, wave simulators, diving platforms, sandy beaches and inflatables. Hundreds of people lay baking themselves on artificial beaches beneath a blue sim-sky and radiant emitters soaking them in tropical heat. I’d never seen so much open water on a ship before and shuddered to think what would happen if the starliner lost power. Without artificial gravity, thousands of metric tonnes of water would be free to float through the ship playing havoc with sensitive electrical systems – unless the entire chamber was engineered for such an eventuality? Sealing ships from radiation was one thing, that was essential for survival, but making them waterproof in case fountains and pools leaked was ridiculously extravagant.

  I strolled casually through crowds of sim-sun worshippers while my DNA sniffer area-scanned them all. Surprisingly, I didn’t get a single hit from my encyclopedia of mankind’s mos
t wanted. Either the starliner’s wealthy clientele were remarkably law abiding – unusual in itself – or someone had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure only clean skins were aboard the Aphrodite for this cruise.

  Once past the tropical beach, I followed a broad spiral walkway up through the ship, slowly circling a stand of giant photonic trees. Flocks of colorful lightbirds soared through the open air, occasionally vanishing as they flew out of the photonorama, only to appear at a different location as they ‘dived’ back into the enormous simulated aviary. The flawless imagery was perfectly complemented by directional sounds and a misty humidity that added a deceptive realism to the tropical forest.

  The busy spiral walkway wound up through nine levels of shops, beauty salons, body sculptors, casinos, theme parks and restaurants, all overflowing with tourists unaware they were part of a lavish deception. The Aphrodite might have been one of the most extravagant starliners ever built, but it wasn’t here for the view of a cosmic cataclysm in the making. It was hiding something else, something in plain sight even I couldn’t see.

  At the Aurora Level, I stepped off the spiral boulevard and headed past bars and cafes toward a stun barrier barring access to Constellation Hall. A wall of five glowing beams crossed the avenue through a series of silver bollards, broken only by an arch scanner in the center which verified every entrant’s credentials. Four uniformed ship security men stood beside the arch ensuring only the anointed were allowed to enter.

  Knowing my all-day Pleasure Pass would get me no further, I took a seat at an open air bar in sight of the checkpoint and ordered a non-intoxicating drink. Everyone who passed through the arch wore access chips pinned to their shirts identifying which areas they could enter. The security guards had the broadest clearance, but without a uniform, I wouldn’t get far with one of their chips, so I waited for a media type, expecting they had the next best access. After twenty minutes, a tall man carrying a short data staff and wearing a media chip came out through the checkpoint.