by HD Smith
I could transport most of these things back to the Known Worlds and sell them as novelty relics, but weapons were outlawed on all the Known Worlds except Canis, and collectors only wanted the food and clothing if it came with the projectiles. I had no desire to service that type of underworld buyer. I hunted for the unique items of Old Earth—items that Old Earth considered valuable, but had to be left behind, such as art by the pre-ancient masters, sculptures, and data. The Sun Blossom building had been a treasure trove of information.
The smartphone made an annoying trilling sound. Dexter had finally gotten up and connected. I inserted the ear apparatus and clicked the activate button.
“Are you there?” I asked.
“Yes,” Dexter said. “Man, this tech sucks.”
He wasn’t wrong. The tinny sound of Dexter’s voice through the micro speaker was hell to listen to, but it was better than no connection at all.
“Would you prefer I take pictures and upload them after I’ve searched the city for relics?” I asked.
Dexter sighed. “No, but this is so impersonal.”
“I think you’re just pissed I can’t see today’s avatar.” Dexter didn’t confirm or deny the statement. I chuckled. “This may be my last trip for a while. Once we have the data on the stream, we’ll be able to process it from anywhere in the Known Worlds. Then I’ll come back after we know where the treasures are located.”
“You mean once we find Zar HQ, right?” Dexter asked.
Dexter knew my weakness. I’d been searching for my holy grail—a term the Old Earth gave to an elusive treasure one seeks—since I started making trips to the long-abandoned planet years ago. Of course, House Zar, which owned the Nyx Corporation, had many known office locations; but no labs. That meant there must be secret, hidden facilities where they’d conducted their research. Dexter jokingly called it the Zar HQ, but it was more than that. A company the size of Nyx would have had more than one lab. At a minimum it would have needed two labs; otherwise how would they have perfected wormhole technology?
“I’m sure we’ll find a hell of a lot more than that in the data,” I argued.
“Yeah, but that’s the only thing you really want. Admit it.”
“I cannot confirm or deny your assumption. But in the hypothetical scenario that we do locate a Zar lab, I’m not convinced any of your OE tech hacking is going to work to get us in.”
“That’s harsh, dude. You wound me,” Dexter said.
I chuckled. “I see you’ve been practicing, dude.”
“Maybe,” Dexter said. “Anyway, you know we’re going to need to brute force our way in no matter what. Unless you’ve got a Zar genome sample lying around somewhere I don’t know about.”
House Zar and the planet Aratus no longer existed, which meant no one had Zar genetic material. “Once we find the Zar compound, then maybe you’ll finally take me up on my offer and join me on one of these trips. You can’t bust in otherwise,” I said.
Dexter was quiet, then said, “I’ll think about it.”
That was what he always said, but he’d yet to actually make plans.
“What do you really expect to get from Zar HQ?” Dexter asked. “It isn’t like V-1 Slip Stream tech will be transferable. Are you thinking they had other tech that’s usable? That’s assuming it can be ported to the KW. Plus if you wanted to go down that path, then why not seek out old tech for the other great Houses? Vance, Windsor, and Cortez all had holdings on Old Earth before the exodus.”
“Zar’s gone. They’re the only one without a claim. The other Houses would sue me in court if I tried to resurrect any of their tech,” I said.
Dexter had no idea about my real past. If he did, he wouldn’t be bringing up House Vance. I had inside information that House Vance considered nothing on Old Earth to be of any significance or value. At the time of the exodus, Twyll Corp’s main product was spaceships. Peacekeepers were in development, but barely above room sweeper capability level. So when House Zar, which controlled Nyx Corp, won the ultimate space race by cracking wormhole tech, Twyll had the hardware everyone needed to make transport from one planet to the next a reality. That was why House Vance had retained its power, even though it had lost significant ground in the race to escape tech war.
“You know the only thing you’ll find at Zar HQ is a bio-secure lock and a bunch of frozen heads, right?” Dexter said.
I laughed. Old Earth had been enamored with cryogenics, which I’d mentioned to Dexter once, and since then he found a way to bring it up whenever we talked about Zar HQ. I wasn’t looking for frozen heads. I was looking for data-drive backups of their best work. That was the treasure I was after.
“Okay, enough about Zar. We’ll revisit that conversation once we’ve analyzed the data and found their labs. What are we searching for today?” I asked.
“Let’s check to see what our treasure-seeking sniffer bot found,” Dexter said.
I stepped over to the dedicated panel and watched as Dexter navigated the raw data. He searched through several log files until he found one that contained a hit.
It was a list of paintings. I studied the names.
[Log Started … Items found:
The Son of Man - painting by Rene Magritte
American Gothic - painting by Grant Wood
Girl with a Pearl Earring - painting by Johannes Vermeer]
“Have you ever heard of these?” Dexter asked.
“No, but I’m not an art fanatic. Where in the city are they located?” I asked.
“The first one is at a museum, which probably means it’s been destroyed or taken. The other two are listed as belonging to Prince Morgan Oster Rockefeller, and could be in his private penthouse a few blocks from here.”
“What’s a penthouse?” I asked.
“No Lucy-damn clue. Aren’t you the OE expert?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know every term. Just google it.”
“I’ve been working for you too long, because I don’t even have to ask what google means. Okay. A penthouse is a top floor apartment,” Dexter said.
I took a look around the room I was in. It was a penthouse.
“Are you looking around the room?” Dexter asked.
“Oh-my-Lucy, that’s what the PH in the elevator means,” I said.
I loved it when I figured out new OE symbols or abbreviations. I liked learning new words, even if they would be useless on the Known Worlds.
“Thank Lucy we finally figured that one out. I know it’s been stuck in my claw for a while now.”
“You had no clue there was a PH button in the elevator, and it’s stuck in your craw, not claw. Poindexter.”
“I’m sorry, are you trying to use OE slang sarcasm on me, Liam?”
“If the shoe fits,” I said.
“Sometimes I think you may have a mental anomaly. Was your birthing pod dropped as an embryo? Did they install your VF too tight? Are you even speaking Standard World-Lex?”
“Indeed,” I said, but let the banter drop.
The cursor on the dedicated panel moved as Dexter navigated around the file system. He opened several more really small files, only to discover all were empty. No data of significance. He finally found one with details and opened it.
[Log Started … Items found:
Kohinoor Diamond]
“What is that?” I asked.
“A really big diamond. If it’s here, we should get it. I might know a buyer,” Dexter said.
“What buyer?” I said, surprised Dexter would have contacts that could move expensive gems from Old Earth.
“No one you know. Just a guy on Tau.”
“I haven’t vetted anyone on Tau,” I said.
“Find it or don’t, but if you do, I know a guy on Tau who’ll buy it. Also the data archive. You’ll have to sell that on Tau. There are too many data laws on Vale, and you’d never get authorization to deal directly with scholars on Hera. Plus, if we can find Old Earth architecture drawings and blueprints, the cit
y planning officials on Tau will go crazy for those. Tau must be your hub for the OE data.”
Dexter was right. Tau society had an odd affinity for all things Old Earth, and their data laws were lax. No other planet in the Known Worlds would offer the same options. I glanced at the upload timer. It was already down by an hour. The data from this haul alone would take weeks to sort through. I might have to hire a few temps. Dexter’s program was good, but someone still had to manually check the finds and consider if the item was salvageable. We’d also have to catalog the data to get the best price.
I’d stayed away from Tau, only making short trips when needed, because Tau was where Oliver Storm lived—and he knew the real me. The one before I walked away from my old life of elite privilege and became Liam Anderson. My escape from my old life wasn’t completely my own making, but if I wanted to stay alive, I had to limit contact with anyone who could expose my true identity.
“Yes or no for Tau?” Dexter asked. “It really is the only option.”
“You’re right. Book a rental on Tau; the one I’ve used before,” I said.
It had a built-in loading dock and roof landing pad for my Dragon-Fire, with easy access to Sector 1. Myst levels on Tau were also superior quality for cloaking the ship.
There was a pause, then Dexter said, “No can do on the previous rental, but I found something else. It has a secure war room, reception area, office, and living quarters—just like the other—but it’s designed for a larger crew, and there’s no private landing pad.”
“How many bedrooms?” I asked.
“Fourteen.”
For Lucy’s sake. The one I usually rented was designed for a five-man team, which was perfect for my needs. This one would be three times the cost, and would be considered an extraordinary expense for one man. Money wasn’t an issue, but perception was. I didn’t need anyone dissecting my business.
“When would my usual place be available?” I asked. Avoiding the extra scrutiny could be worth using a hotel for a few days.
“It’s off the rental market—purchase only. Two million credits.”
“Why?”
“The guy who owns it is in the middle of a separation. He’s dumping property to pay his legal fees. It just went up for purchase.”
Two million credits wasn’t unreasonable, but did I really want to own property on Tau?
“You’re over thinking this, boss,” Dexter said. “The OE data will make the most profit on Tau. It could take months to sell, so we need a base. And you’re on Tau often enough to have a favorite rental, so why not go all in and buy it?”
Dexter was right.
“What do I get for the two million?” I asked.
“The entire building.”
That sounded too good to be true. The landlord must really be in dire straits with the separation. Perhaps this would be a good time to cultivate my Tor-Vargas identity. Setting up a headquarters on Tau would give my professor persona a home base.
“Buy it. I’ll dump it later.”
“Do you want to see the specs first?”
“I’ve rented the place enough times. Is it in the same condition?”
“Yeah, but …”
“Then handle it,” I said, knowing that Dexter was more than capable.
“10-4,” he said.
I chuckled. “Do you even know what 10-4 means?”
“Not a clue,” he said.
“Everyone’s a comedian.”
Dexter laughed. “Okay, which treasures are we tracking down?”
“The two paintings in the penthouse and the diamond. If I’m setting up shop on Tau, I might as well have something I can sell right away. The data will take time to process.”
“Sounds good. I’ve loaded the smartphone with your route. Are we taking the non-AutoDrive?”
“We’ll have to. Public transportation hasn’t been running for over five hundred years,” I said.
“Everyone’s a comedian,” he said, mimicking my earlier remark “Hey. You going to run us into another bus this time too?”
“First of all, the bus wasn’t parked in its spot—”
“Oh, please. You’re going to blame the bus?” Dexter laughed again.
The smartphone buzzed.
“Okay, your data’s loaded.”
I picked up the smartphone and pressed the map icon. I clicked on the planned route. The first item was three blocks from here.
“Are the remote sensors on line?” I asked.
“Yep. I just got the last one connected,” Dexter said. “Not too much activity today. The motion sensors in the south end of the city are active, but nothing close to where we’re going. From the two vid-feeds, I can see that a convoy of military-grade non-AutoDrives rolled through about an hour ago, but nothing in the last fifteen minutes.”
“Should I be worried why military-grade non-AutoDrives are in the city?”
“As soon as the download completes, I’ll scan the vid-feed for the last few days to see if there’s a pattern, but more than likely, some new well-financed tourists are here to see the sights.”
The flashy convoys were almost always tourists, and I steered clear of tourists because they attracted the renegades for hire.
“Have those started up again?” I asked.
“I saw a posting on the gig-board a couple of days back. Someone looking for an OE expert for a tourist run. The company name was different, but it sounded like Montague’s operation. I guess he got released.”
Montague’s crew was dangerous. They billed themselves as the full OE safari experience, which meant they showed rich elites around Old Earth and made sure they checked off all the boxes.
Attacked by renegades? Check. Kill said renegades to escape? Check. See famous landmarks? Check. Find and eat exodus rations? Check. Lose one person on the expedition? Check. Barely make it back to the spaceship in time to escape the planet? Check.
It was all staged. Even the people who got killed were hired for the part. They weren’t told that they were to be the sacrifice, but no one cared? Montague hired from the Houseless. Offered them a lot of money, and even paid out a few times, but in the end they always became the guy who gets shot.
That didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of real dangers. But most of the real blood sports were happening in OE Singapore right now. That was where disillusioned privateers who couldn’t cut it retrieving artifacts wound up—entering the games to get a chance at the million-credit prize. The spectacles were run by underworld cronies that filmed the events for pay-per-view style vid-streams. It was wrong on so many levels, but no one cared enough to try and stop it.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me know if you find anything. I’ll keep my eyes open for them and any other renegades that might be hunting today.”
Even though getting to Old Earth was difficult, there were always crews around. Luckily, the extra surveillance I’d installed over the years let us see potential hot spots before I left the building. Today was no exception. Dexter would continue to monitor the feeds, and I’d stay aware of my surroundings.
I packed a few supplies into my backpack and grabbed the keys for my favorite electric non-AutoDrive. The corporate motor pool of OE 2172 had a surprising number of extra features, including a bulletproof outer shell and several not-safe-for-the-city munitions. I’d learned early on to load the SUV with all available gadgets before leaving. So far, the most I’d gotten to do with my toys was hit a bus with an EMP and knock down a temporary barricade at the end of an ally. Even on a quiet day like today, I might have to make an exit.
As I headed for the elevator, I glanced at the download again. The data was syncing; within five hours I’d be on my way to Tau, hopefully with an incredible load of data, two paintings, and a diamond.
4
Sector 1 Cortez Towers, Tau, Monday, 09:00 LTZ
Gen
Cortez Towers were three one-hundred-story high-rises twisted together in an architectural marvel. At least that was how the press rel
ease described it when House Cortez opened the metal and glass behemoth six months ago. In reality, with all the visually impossible angles, it was scary to look at.
Mage Ink had moved its corporate headquarters to Cortez Towers two months ago, along with several of its smaller R&D labs. According to my supervisor, K12 had not moved because it would have been cost prohibitive to relocate the demysting pods.
The Towers also housed a corporate hospital, seventeen restaurants, and seven workout facilities. It was not open to the public, but as a corporate citizen of Mage Ink and a member of House Cortez, I was allowed on property and could have used one of the two workout facilities designated for my pay grade. As with everything else allocated for my station, the facilities looked underwhelming over the live vid-stream. Therefore, this was my first visit to the Towers.
As I approached the glass doors to the lobby, my chip activated the sensor, allowing the doors to slide open. The minute I entered the building, my Link’s directions stopped working. It was a common problem in high security, ultramodern office suites. My several-versions-out-of-date Link wasn’t able to interface with the newer tech. I swiped in an attempt to activate the building’s floor plan, but my Link couldn’t handle the building’s public stream.
I glanced around the lobby, a stark minimalist design of glass and steel, and searched for the receptionist. The front desk was empty, and the entire atrium felt deserted. I took a step toward the empty desk, and a holographic receptionist appeared. I’d known the building was automated with the latest tech, but I hadn’t realized that meant it was completely unmanned. The holographic, with all its programmed responses, would be helpful—if only I knew exactly where I needed to go. Since I didn’t, it was a bit useless.
Two Peacekeepers stood sentry by the elevators. Their motionless forms added to the ominous empty feel of the building. Why were no humans here?
