The Thaon Factor

by Eugene Wilson

  Chapter 3The Emissary

  Stonewedge Housing Subdivision

  San Augustan, California

  Sunday, 25 April 2258

  Vausteau checks his pulser before slowly putting it back under his coat.

  “If Ben called you here, why do you need that thing?” Karen asks. She has hated these portable energy weapons ever since her first introduction to them when someone fired at her out of spite.

  “Call it insurance Karen. My father gave it to me after I left the Air Force. Besides, if Ben knows something that can incriminate McKay, you can be sure he won’t be alone.”

  “Suppose something goes wrong Vausteau, I don't want you to end up like Glen and Joel.” After giving her a soft kiss on her lips, he simply replied, “Just keep the channel open in case I do need something. Shouldn't take long. We have a good shot at this whole thing.” As a safety measure, Vausteau had parked his car farther down the street before walking up to Ben's residence in the Stonewedge housing section of town. A partly overcast night sky revealed only a few stars showing through.

  Vausteau was ever wary of the fact that someone was watching him from behind some obstruction in the front yard and cautiously moved toward Ben's front door just a few yards away. A thought hit him, compelling him to quickly move around the back of the house. As he scanned the back yard, he saw nothing that would indicate anyone else present. A sudden noise off to the side however, changed that indication as he gripped the butt of his pulser tighter. And if that was not enough, the sudden sensation of a pulser being thrust into his back caused him more distress. Slowly raising his hands, Vausteau waits for what might be a quick death. “Look, whoever you are, just take whatever I have. I'm unarmed," he lies.

  Several seconds of agonizing silence followed before the person behind him speaks. “Put your hands down Fosteir, it’s me . . Ben.”

  “I ought to blast that idiot right now,” Vausteau thinks to himself. He turns around in time to see Ben Walsh putting his pulser back into its holster. “Mind telling me what the hell this is all about Ben and what's with pulling the pulser on me like that?"

  “Keep your voice down, the whole neighborhood will hear ya'. If I wanted to burn your tail, I would have done it while you day dreaming a minute ago. Follow me over here," he demands.

  Fosteir follows Ben to the back patio steps. A small porch light gives sufficient illumination. “What's this all about?”

  Benjamin pulls an optodisk out of his shirt pocket and holds it up. “It's about this.”

  “You drag me out here in the dead of night to show me a computer disk? What's on it? Your life history?”

  “Not really smart ass! I nearly got myself killed getting this thing out of McKay's safe yesterday evening.” Ben admits.

  Vausteau is stunned. “You mean to tell me you broke into the Chief Executive's office of Delron Interplanetary? Nothing short of a major commando raid could get into McKay's office.”

  “I had a little outside help, but that's another story. Remember all that stuff that people were accusing Delron of? Illegal weapons manufacture and all that?”

  “Sure, but no one had any hard proof, just hearsay and weeks of worthless congressional hearings. What's your point?”

  “My point is that McKay is involved with some deadly people, people who are willing to give him technology in exchange for radridium ore."

  Vausteau takes two steps back and gazes at Ben. “Radridium? What is radridium?”

  “Radridium is an ore that Delron's miners discovered over two years ago within Saturn's belts. Once processed, it can be used to power all types of intense high energy devices.”

  “Like weapons?” Vausteau quickly reasons.

  “Yes it can, but McKay is not using the radridium only for that purpose. He's trading it for technology, and some deadly sophisticated technology at that.”

  “As in?” Vausteau asks.

  “How about a small particle beam canon that can punch a huge hole through a navy ship over 20 miles away and that's small fry compared to other weapons that McKay is building. I'm talking hand held particle beam rifles, high intensity pulse wave emitters, molecular disruption weaponry that can atomize things or people by choice.”

  Vausteau feels a sickening dread come over him at the mere thought of the horrendous destruction that such weapons could cause. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

  “Yes I do. If McKay isn't stopped, he will become so powerful, that nothing short of several Army battalions will be able to stop him.”

  Vausteau is dumbfounded. “I don't understand though. If someone already has all this technology, why would they trade it for radridium ore? It doesn't make a bit of sense. I mean who are they? Russians? Libyans? Tanzanians?”

  “Try serillians.”

  The surprise look on Vausteau's face almost makes Ben smile. “Ser . .what?”

  "Serillians Vausteau! They are McKay's partners in all of this. It's all on the disk. The serillians are the inhabitants of a planet called Ocerion. For some reason I can't fathom, they need the stuff. What for is anybody's guess. It explains why McKay is obtaining technology far better than earth's technology. I wonder if either Glen or Joel knew this before they were killed.”

  “It doesn't matter,” Vausteau remarks, “if McKay is involved with these alien people, we're all in big trouble.”

  Ben takes the optodisk and puts it in Vausteau's pocket.

  “Why are you giving it to me?”

  “I'm doing this because I trust my old college chum. McKay is looking for me. You have to find a way to warn the authorities.”

  “They would never believe any of this. You know that!” Vausteau objects.

  “Then find a way. You have to convince . . . ” Ben never finishes his statement as a yellow beam strikes him in the back, killing him instantly. For one horrific moment, Vausteau gasps in horror as he watches his friend stand motionless a split second before falling to the ground. A second beam nearly hits him compelling him to dive for ground cover. He pulls his own pulser and fires multiple energy burst in the direction of his attacker. A dark figure in the distance immediately takes cover as return fire from Vausteau's pulser narrowly misses him.

  After firing off two more shots, Vausteau quickly gets up and slams into the door with his full might. As the door pushes inward, Vausteau's own momentum causes him to fall to the floor. Quickly getting up, he runs to the front of the house and turns off any lighting. The next few minutes indicates only a tense, deathly silence, as there is no movement near the open door way. As he aims his pulser ahead of him, he slowly moves toward the front of the house facing the back door as he moves away. He knows that his attackers, whoever they are, are determined to add him to their death wish list. Vausteau concludes that whatever Ben had known or obtained was important enough for someone to come after him with deadly enthusiasm.

  The various killings in the past few months are beginning to form an all too familiar pattern in Vausteau's mind. Time and again, it always points to McKay. What piqued his interest is the nature of the new discovery of the radridium ore and its potential for as an energy source. He knows that Messerand Corporation had been mining in the Saturn belt for over forty-six years and no radridium ore had been discovered by any of their mining operations. How, he wonders as well, could Delron keep the discovery of such a substance a secret for this long disturbs him and why would anyone be willing to trade sophisticated technology for it.

  No answers are coming forth. Provided that he lives long enough, he is determined to seek the answers to these questions. Vausteau suddenly tenses as a dark figure quickly appears in the door way for a split second. The person throws a small silvery globe in the kitchen and runs as off as fast as he can.

  The small 3.5" diameter globe begins emitting a series of high pitch beeps that increases in frequency. “Tritanium bomb!” Vausteau utters in dire shock. He turns and runs for dear life toward the front of the adjoining room. With sheer determination, he l
eaps up and crashes through the front window out onto the front yard.

  His high school track running comes back as he put as much distance possible between himself and the house. A few seconds later, the entire back of the house room erupts in a tremendous explosion. The explosion blows out the windows and one door sending a hail of deadly shrapnel and fire. The ear splitting sound can be heard for blocks. People in the neighborhood are suddenly awakened by the deafening noise.

  North Hill District Police Station

  San Augustan, California

  Monday, 26 April 2258 (1:34 PM)

  After a nod of agreement, Officer Juan Reveras hands the crime report tablet over to Detective Steve Lewis. The dark-haired Caucasian man of 45 is not too happy this morning, as his department is under intense pressure to find those responsible for a number of murders in his district. Yet, another human corpse was discovered among the remains of a burned out house. Steve’s men had brought in a suspect that could possibly shed light on the murder. Entering the interrogation room, two other police officers are escorting the suspect to his seat.

  Steve seats himself opposite the suspect. “Vausteau, I heard you like photos.”

  “Not your kind,” Vausteau answers.

  “Ross, display Case-26 photos,” Steve tells the computer. Three high resolution photographs appear on the table surface. Vausteau cringes as he looks at the center photograph.

  “I’ll admit,” Steve continues, “forensic pictures aren’t like your typical vacation ads, but then again, burnt human corpses lying in back yards aren’t your typical occurrences either. So, what do you think?”

  Vausteau is blunt. “Honestly, I think you are wasting my time.”

  “Is that so? Well then, Mr. high and mighty corporate executive, I have plenty of time to waste! Now let’s begin with 11:30 p.m. last night.”

  Steve commands the ROSS computer to select and enlarge the center photograph. “A massive explosion severely damages a home in the North Stonewedge Housing Subdivision. Forensics identified the poor guy as Benjamin Elijah Walsh, a Delron Interplanetary research physicist, as well as your friend. Qui Monsieur?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You were positively identified by several witnesses who saw you walking from your vehicle. Also in your car was a young white woman.”

  “You are the one with the facts Lieutenant, not me.” Vausteau objects.

  “Yes I am,” Steve angrily boasts. “I have the facts that can get you into deep trouble if you don’t start answering questions. Mr. Walsh was killed by direct pulse fire to the head. I assume whoever did it wanted you dead too. Lucky you! Now, suppose you tell me what two employees of rival corporations were doing talking in the dead of night!”

  “Of all the stupid…” Vausteau mutters. He returns his attention to Steve. “Ben was concerned over alleged gang involvement by some high officials at Delron.”

  Steve looks at Vausteau with disbelief. “Gangs? What’s this? A put on? I’m really stupid. Right?” He stands out of his chair and walks toward a window. The street below is brimming with activity. “So you want me to believe that Mr. Walsh came to you about some corporate gang banging.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is the name of this gang?” Steve asks with disbelief.

  “You know very well that the Fifth Legion is involved.”

  “The Fifth Legion? Really? I don’t think so,” he protests as he turns to face Vausteau. “Actually, I think you’re just lying through your teeth.”

  Vausteau loses it. “Then suppose you tell me, since nothing that I am saying is getting through that hard head of yours.”

  “Are you getting tough with me? You think you’re so invincible because your dad is some hot shot outer-planet mining CEO? I can lock you up just like I can lock any other dumb idiot off the street.”

  Vausteau says nothing, turning away. Steve continues. “Mr. Walsh came to you because he had info on McKay and his activities, not on some gang. Walsh also had info that could link Derran with the deaths of Glen Addington and Joel Washington, information that you are withholding!”

  “You’re making suppositions,” Vausteau protests.

  “I’m stating facts,” Steve shoots back.

  “Ben and I met to talk about gang activities and we were ambushed. He was killed and I ran. That is all I know. Now if you want to press charges, then do it. I will not need my father!” Vausteau becomes even angrier. “I will put two lawyers on your case and sue you and your department for false arrest and police harassment. You’ll get no further information from me. People are attacked all the time. In case you have forgotten, this is San Augustan. Some very dangerous people live in this city!”

  Steve walks back and sits opposite Vausteau. His tone of voice sends an unmistakably message. “Don’t you ever threaten me again! You can hire every freakin’ lawyer from here to Lunar Base Cistrum for all I care. I’d still be all over you.” Steve becomes retaliatory. “Ben wasn’t about to risk his life for a trumped up story about a Puerto Rican gang. You have information on Derran McKay and I intend on getting it from you anyway legally possible. Watch your back Vausteau, because I will be on it from now on.” He turns away. “Get him out of here!” Steve yells to his officers. Vausteau and Officer Reveras, old college buddies, trade brief glances.

  French-based Messerand Corporation

  (Divisional Headquarters)

  San Augustan, California

  Tuesday, 04 May 2258

  “Mr. Fosteir, your son, Vausteau, is here. Shall I send him in?” Myra asks over the desk intercom.

  “Yes, Myra, send him in,” Lamone Fosteir replies.

  After acknowledging him, Myra motions Vausteau to walk in. He seats himself opposite his angry father. Lamone tells his son to pick up the data tablet off the desk. After reading the forwarded North Hill District Police Report, Vausteau frowns. “Father, this is not the whole story.”

  “Then level with me,” Lamone demands. “Your connection with Ben’s murder is causing this firm serious public relations trouble. I don’t mind telling you that two board members would like to see you fired.”

  “I had no idea this would happen,” Vausteau replies aloud.

  “First of all, lower your voice,” Lamone continues. “The next morning, police interviewed two more people who positively identified you as the one seen talking with Ben before he was killed that night and before the explosion. Detective Lewis is certain of your involvement. Our lawyers rebuffed his story-this time. Now, you owe me an explanation.”

  I’d rather not,” Vausteau replies respectfully.

  “Oh no? I think you better! Despite blood, you still work for me.”

  “Father, I’m still trying to work things out. For some time, Ben and I had been talking in secret. He was sharing information that could indict Derran McKay. Even you can see the significance of that.”

  “Yes, I can. My main concern is that my eldest son, whom I love very much, is risking his career and possibly his life on a gamble. Plus, you were seen with her again. Look, I understand that she’s your old college flame, but your relationship with her is becoming a liability to this firm.”

  “Father, please leave her out of this. She…”

  “Karen Dawson,” Lamone interrupts, “is a senior reporter for the San Augustan Chronicles. Her job is to obtain news-breaking stories.”

  “Karen is not trying to grill me for information.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Lamone concludes. “But consider this.”

  “Consider what, father?”

  “I knew Derran back in college. He is as cold and ruthless as they come. FBI officials allege that he has ties to the Fifth Legion. Cross these people once and you will end up on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.”

  “I am not surprised. Glen Addington’s body was found washed ashore on the beach,” Vausteau asserts. “Derran will first have to send his thugs to see what I know. I can play this game. Going to the FBI for now, is not an opt
ion. I can forget about going to the police.”

  Lamone raises an eyebrow. “I see. Either you’re impervious to pulse guns or you know something that I do not.”

  Briefly, Vausteau is silent. “Look, I have not told the police everything about what Ben had told me.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m convinced that Derran is responsible for the death of the mining crew. Those miners must have found something mighty important on that asteroid. Delron Interplanetary ships were ordered to keep all other ships away.”

  “You’re implying mass murder. The media blamed pilot error for the cause. Delron management officials were cleared by FBI officials and the Harten Interplanetary Agency of any gross criminal negligence.”

  “Pilot error?” Vausteau replies. “How does a pilot accidentally run a mining ship into an asteroid the size of Mount Everest? There’s more.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Ben obtained proof that whatever Delron mineworkers had found in that asteroid eventually received the attention of an alien government.”

  “Which one? The corisians or the henaru?”

  “Neither. The serillians. Ben discovered that these guys came from the other side of the galaxy.”

  Lamone’s eyes widen in shock. “Son, the other side of the galaxy is well over 70,000 light-years away!”