The Call of Destiny

by Robert C. James

“Generational poverty…” Jason shook his head. “You’d think when we left Earth we’d have learned from our past.”

  “Our technology might be better than anytime in human history, but society still treat the poorest of people as an infestation.” Marissa stopped at an intersection and then turned right. “Greed continues to reign supreme. And because of it, places like this exist. Not to mention the crime that comes with it.”

  Jason had seen similar on Odyssey Station during his time there. He’d wondered now that Professor Petit had harnessed trans-space technology what they’d find in the great beyond.

  Would they discover more worlds like Psi-Aion or planets like Earth? Perhaps they’d discover places more advanced where humans would seem just as primitive as the people of Psi-Aion.

  That’s if we get that far and aren’t exterminated by the Seekers.

  He faced Marissa. “How have you been anyway?”

  “Fine,” she answered a little too quickly.

  Even after all these years he remembered her expression when she didn’t want to talk. After their rendezvous at the Blue Mountains, she’d made it abundantly clear that what’d happened was something that could never be spoken of again.

  He couldn’t blame her. She had everything. The perfect life. Her dream job. A beautiful apartment overlooking the city. And Marcus seemed like a stand-up guy.

  Marissa directed the car down a side street which took them on to another main road. Straight ahead was their destination. “Here we are. The largest maximum-security prison on Mars. Home to the worst Holden City has to offer.”

  She pulled into the visitor entrance, and they got out and made their way into the primary building.

  “How did you get us in here again?” Jason asked her while they walked into the small room.

  “You need to have connections.” Marissa sat at one of the many tables.

  Jason took the seat beside her, and the door opposite them opened, revealing the large hulking mass of Taz McPhee. “That guy belongs on a football field!”

  “Shh.” Marissa glared at him.

  “Marissa Caldwell,” Taz said in a high-pitched voice, completely betraying his massive size. “Or has it changed?” He stared down at her wedding finger. “You’re still on the market? I’m out of here in seven years. If you can wait—”

  The two prison guards behind him pushed him down into his chair and chained his cuffs to the table. They looked at Marissa, who nodded at them, and they left the three alone.

  “How are you, Taz?” Marissa asked him.

  “I’m in jail.” He shrugged and stared over at Jason. “Who are you?”

  “He’s a friend.”

  “He got no tongue?”

  “I’ve got a tongue,” Jason said. “My name’s irrelevant. Makes things less messy.”

  “I guess I can understand that.”

  Jason put his hands on the table and leaned in toward him. “Marissa tells me you got her some information during the gangland wars.”

  “I may have.”

  “She also told me you ended up in here with a reduced sentence because you informed on your employers.”

  “It seemed the right thing to do.”

  “Well, I’m looking for info of my own.”

  “I’m out of that business now.” McPhee smirked. “Unless it gets me less time in here?”

  “That’s something we can’t offer,” Marissa said.

  “This would be on the down-low. No cop involvement,” Jason told him.

  The crim bit his bottom lip. “Sounds like my kind of thing, but as I told you, I shut up shop long ago.”

  Marissa put her hands on his, caressing the man’s large tattooed hand. Jason did his best not to vomit.

  “Come on, Taz, you need to take care of yourself in retirement. You said yourself, you’ll be out in seven years. Do you still have that bank account?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, my friend is after a name. That’s all. I’m sure he’d be willing to part with some money you can spend on a party when you’re released.”

  McPhee gave her a cheeky grin. “Will you be there?”

  “We’ll see.”

  He turned to Jason. “What are you after?”

  “Information on a man named Darius Lok,” Jason said.

  “Never heard of him.”

  He pulled out a small photo. “What about Julian Perry?”

  McPhee narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers on the table. “Yeah, I recognize him.”

  “I need to know who his employer is?”

  “When I knew him, he worked with the Gallaghers. Looked like a sissy with all the flowing hair. Bit of a buffoon, but he got the job done most of the time. He left before the gangland wars ended to ply his trade off-world.”

  “Who did he go on to work for?”

  “He’s a bounty hunter. He had several employers.”

  “I’m after one who’s extremely cashed up. One who thrives on the biggest of jobs.”

  McPhee smiled, revealing his set of black and broken teeth. “Ten thousand credits.”

  Jason did the arithmetic of his bank balance in his head. “Five thousand.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s ten thousand or I call the guards and I go back to my cell. Do you want your name or not?”

  “Ten thousand it is,” Marissa said. “I’ll cover the rest.”

  McPhee seemed equally bemused, and he glanced at Jason. “Maybe you should be the one putting a ring on her finger.”

  Jason stared at her in shock and returned his attention to McPhee. “I want that name.”

  Chapter 8

  May 31, 2214

  UECS Sabre

  Captain Shila was the first to greet Jason when he returned to the Sabre. “It’s good to have you back, Commander.”

  He stepped out of the airlock of the transport pod onto the hangar deck. “I hope you haven’t missed me too much?”

  “We managed.” Shila led him out into the corridor. “There’s a representative from Intel waiting in the briefing room, so I assume you have news?”

  Jason nodded. “With what I discovered aboard the Argo and some sleuthing on Mars, I got on the horn to the people at Intel. They believe the crew of the Argo are being held hostage by an individual by the name of Ravi Trentham.”

  “What does she want with them?”

  “Kione.”

  They entered the elevator and ascended through the ship.

  “Do you know why?”

  “No, but it can’t be for anything good.”

  The elevator came to a halt, and they walked out and headed toward the briefing room. A man in plain, nondescript civilian attire stood by the wall monitor.

  “Commander Cassidy, this is Agent Moss from Intelligence,” Shila introduced them.

  Moss shook his hand. “We talked over many commlinks. It’s good to meet you in person, Commander.”

  Jason gestured at the monitor. “What have you found on Ravi Trentham?”

  “I lead a unit within Intel dedicated to keeping an eye on our friend.” Moss activated his presentation, producing an image of Trentham. She had long, dark-brown hair and hazel eyes.

  “She’s one of the most notorious and richest underworld figures in the solar system. While little more than a minor player only a decade ago, she made considerable financial gains during the war. From there she built up her holdings, and with the collapse of the McKinley family’s slice of the pie here, she bulldozed all that stood before her.

  “Her legitimate businesses include manufacturing on Luna and Mars, a transport business based around Saturn, and several casinos throughout the asteroid belt. While not proven, it’s assumed she also distributes weapons and drugs on the black market.”

  “Sounds like a nasty customer,” Shila said. “Any idea what she’d want with the alien?”

  Moss shook his head. “No. Despite what we have on her, she runs a tight ship. She’s incredibly secretive and rarely comes out in public.
We’ve been trying to plant a mole in her organization for years. But to date we’ve had little luck.”

  Jason rubbed his chin, forgetting there was no longer a beard there. “The question is, can we be sure she’s the one responsible for taking the crew of the Argo?”

  Moss pulled up a large swath of scanning data. “With the help of the stations surrounding Jupiter, I’ve overlaid scanning radiuses from every facility.”

  Jason did a double take at what looked like an impressive group of Venn diagrams surrounding the gas giant.

  Moss pointed. “On the date of May twenty-second, a ship running dark was spotted traveling to Io. It rendezvoused with another vessel we believe to be The Thor’s Hammer.”

  “Darius Lok…” Jason figured.

  “Right. After a brief meeting, the unknown vessel disposed of Lok’s ship and sent it hurtling into Io’s atmosphere. Soon after, the Argo came along. Seems Alyssa Rycroft got a distress call out in time and her crewmates rescued her.

  “When the Argo set a course for Ganymede Station, our unknown vessel turned around and headed back in their direction.”

  It all played out in front of them on the monitor until the two vessels disappeared in a scanning black spot. More time passed, and the unknown ship returned from the shadows, without the Argo, before disappearing for good beyond the region.

  “It wasn’t until several days later that the Argo showed up on Ganymede Station’s scanners, adrift and crewless,” Moss continued. “This is where we believe they were kidnapped.”

  Jason narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but this unknown ship of yours disappears once it leaves the Jovian system of moons. How can you tell it was Trentham’s if it was running dark?”

  Moss brought up a hazy magnified image of a craft against the backdrop of Jupiter. “Because a passing freighter took a visual scan, albeit a little crude.”

  Moss pressed in the terminal, and a second, much clearer ship appeared next to it. “This was found approaching Ceres two days later.”

  “It’s the same ship.” Jason stepped closer to the monitor. “Ravi’s vessel?”

  “My people on the ground on Ceres saw an increase of activity at her casino when it arrived in orbit. And piecing together the information you provided of the Argo crew in their cell, we’ve come to the conclusion they’re being held near the major safe three levels beneath the surface.”

  “You’ve been able to pinpoint their exact position?” Shila asked.

  “We believe so.” Moss turned off the monitor. “A team is deployed and ready to go in.”

  While Jason would’ve preferred to do it a different way, he realized there was little choice. They couldn’t hand Kione over, and if they tried to negotiate, it’d blow their chance of catching Trentham off guard. “Very well. But I’m coming with you.”

  *

  New York City, Earth

  Susan directed her wheelchair through the lobby of the grungy old apartment building. Noting the cracked walls, she wondered how long the structure had left before it crumbled in a heap.

  Even the elevator was from another time. She half expected there to be a bellboy to help her. With great difficulty, she reached up and pushed the button for the eighth floor.

  The gates closed, and she headed upward ever so slowly. At the top, she moved down the dark corridor, thanking her lucky stars her feet didn’t make contact with the manky two hundred-year-old carpet.

  She followed the door numbers until she found the apartment she was after: 8K.

  She put out her fist and knocked. Nothing. Then again. Same result. “Mister Groth. My name’s Doctor Susan Tai. It’s taken a long time to find you. I’m in desperate need of help!”

  Still no response. All this way… It’d been over a week since she’d seen Kione. What must he be going through?

  She banged on the door with more force. “Jason Cassidy sent me. He told me you knew his father!”

  Footsteps approached from the other side. The unlatching of several locks sounded, and the door swung open, revealing a very old and very unwell man.

  His clothes were tattered, and the stench of his home was a combination of mold, bleach, and urine. “Benjamin Cassidy. You know him?” he asked with a raspy voice.

  She shook her head. “No, sir. I know his son. Benjamin Cassidy is dead.”

  Groth looked away, trying to hide his distress. “What about Althaus?”

  “Conrad Althaus? He’s still alive,” she told him.

  “A pity,” he grumbled and waved her inside. “What can I help you with?”

  She followed him into his apartment, just scraping her wheelchair through the doorway. The inner sanctum was full of darkness with the odd sliver of light peeking through the closed windows.

  Scattered everywhere on the floor were stacks of old books and newspapers. On the walls were unusual paintings, from landscapes to portraits, and some things she couldn’t identify.

  “Jason told me you used to be in law enforcement,” Susan said. “You cut your teeth as a composite artist.”

  Groth raised his eyebrows. “That was a long time ago.”

  “I’m trying to find the true identity of a person. If you can help me sketch him out…”

  He rummaged on the floor and pulled out a fresh canvas. He put it on a stand and grabbed a brush and some paint. “Describe his eyes to me.”

  Over the next hour, the pair went back and forth until the portrait came out how Susan wanted.

  “Incredible.” She gazed at the drawing. “That’s Doctor Whitlowe.”

  Groth yanked a small device from his pocket and motioned it over the images. He took a blanket off a nearby computer and blew the dust from it. He placed the device on the terminal, and it captured his painting on the monitor.

  Susan moved to his side and watched his hands dance over the keypad with remarkable speed for someone of his age and condition. A scrolling list of names appeared, and the computer started its search.

  “This is a government database. How do you have access to it?” she asked.

  “It’s best I don’t tell you that.” The computer continued until an image emerged. “Is that him?”

  Susan recognized his eyes. “That’s him. He’s younger, though.”

  “This was taken six years ago,” he read from the data. “The last photo on record.”

  “Can you open his file?”

  Groth attempted to do so, but large red text filled the monitor: SEALED.

  “Seems like this Doctor Whitlowe has a secret to keep. His file is sealed by presidential order.” Groth put his hands back on the keypad. “No matter.”

  The red text disappeared, and his summary opened.

  Susan furrowed her brow. “How did you—?”

  He glanced at her with knowing eyes.

  “Right. Don’t ask.”

  “This man is no Doctor Whitlowe,” he read. “His real name is William Ramsey. He was an extractions officer for Intel during the war.”

  “An extractions officer?”

  “Mister Ramsey would’ve been in charge of high-level enemy soldiers after they were captured. Put plainly, Doctor Tai, he was a torturer.”

  The pit of Susan’s stomach clenched.

  “And going off his record,” Groth continued, “he had some very harsh methods and was quite successful at his job.”

  She dropped her head. It was now more important than ever to get Kione out.

  But how?

  Chapter 9

  September 15, 2208

  Tokyo Institute of Advanced Sciences

  Six Years Earlier

  It was the most nervous Benjamin Tyrell had been for a very long time. Not since he’d been first put on the project, which seemed like an eternity ago.

  He sat in his office staring at a series of scans taken a day earlier. Kione’s development never ceased to amaze him. Even in his twenties the extraterrestrial being still appeared to be growing mentally and physically.

  “Doctor Tyrell. The Minist
er of Defense has arrived.”

  Benjamin prodded the intercom. “Thank you, I’ll be right up.”

  The moment of truth.

  He walked over to the elevator and rode it to one of the highest levels of the Institute. Over by the window, he spotted a man with his hands behind his back. He seemed fixated on the view of Mount Fuji beyond the skyscrapers.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I visited my homeland?” he asked Benjamin, not breaking his gaze.

  Benjamin walked up beside him and shook his head.

  “Too long.” The man sighed. “I thought being on the election trail for the last twelve months was difficult, but this war with Centauri… Coming home and seeing this is a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”

  He turned and put out his hand. “I’m Takashi. New Minister of Defense.”

  “Welcome to TIAS.” Benjamin shook it. “Congratulations on your party’s victory and your appointment.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. It was a hard-fought battle, but just the beginning.”

  Benjamin did his best not to roll his eyes at the bravado. “Would you like to come downstairs?”

  “I’ve been looking forward to it.” Takashi gestured toward the elevator. “Please, lead the way.”

  They traveled downward to one of the habitat sections of the Green Level. Beyond the observation screen, Kione stood in a batting cage taking swings against an automated pitching machine. He made the sweetest of contact with every ball he swung at. The crack of the bat on leather echoed around them.

  “Baseball?” Takashi seemed amused.

  “A boyhood obsession of mine,” Benjamin told him. “A game of strength, balance, hand-eye coordination, and speed. He’s played since he was a boy.”

  “It seems we share a common love. How’s his arm?”

  “Come and see.”

  Takashi followed him out in the open area that’d been fitted to look like a vast, outdoor space.

  Benjamin switched off the machine. “Kione, meet Mister Takashi.”

  Kione placed the bat beside home plate and walked over to them.

  Takashi was in awe. “It’s nice to meet you, Kione.”