by Richard Fox
“She did…that she did.” Hower stepped back. “I kept the ones she was most passionate about, something about silica structures and trace elements. The rest…best to leave the mundane behind. If I can license clones of the rainbow ground birds from the Alltia Islands…they’d make great pets.”
“You mean tap-taps? The birds outlawed in Royal lands because they breed so fast and wipe out native species?”
“We’ll just clone them sterile. Human beings have science at their disposal, Daniel. Don’t think like these primitives just because you look like them.”
“Fair idea,” Daniel said, placing suitcases in the trunk. “But Corporate has right of first refusal on any and all bio products that we bring back. You think they’ll give you a fair price?”
“I know they’ll cheat me out of every crown—I mean credit—that they can. But at least I’ll get…something. I’m leaving this planet without my wife. I need to go home with…anything.” Hower looked away.
Daniel stopped his work, then went to hug the other man.
“Stop. Stop! I don’t want or need your sympathy, and you reek of the Tyr right now. Tell me you won’t try to make their notion of cologne a thing back home.” Hower kept an arm’s distance from Daniel.
“We tried, Aaron. We tried everything we could to find Julia,” Daniel said. “House tapped into every government line we could. I bribed enough military and police to—”
“Your efforts were greatly appreciated, but she’s gone. Either dead at the hands of Slavers or lost to the elements when she fled during the raid on her encampment. This mission came with risks. She and I both understood that—though I thought I was the one in more danger, what with the apex predators in the grasslands and the tap-tap brood mothers that didn’t care for me taking samples from their nests…she was interested in minerals. Geology. She should’ve been fine…but the Tyr are savages. She believed the Slavers were properly cowed after the kingdom nuked their home islands.”
“We all thought that,” Daniel said. “I authorized her trip. It was a mistake.”
“Like you had a choice.” Hower handed over a suitcase. “Julia could be quite stubborn when she wanted something. The Tyr killed her. That’s the end of it. We’ll be done with this hell hole soon enough, and then I…I’m not sure what I’ll do. Open an exotic pet store, perhaps.”
“Give me that black one.” Daniel pointed to a small case.
“Three PhDs in xeno-biology and I can barely figure out the puzzle that is a trunk and luggage.” Hower handed over another bag. “How does a mere anthropologist like you manage?”
“Corp enforcement training. Spent plenty of time figuring out how to get ten pounds of crap in a five-pound bag.”
“Why would bags have a weight assignment?” Hower asked.
“Just give me that bag behind you.”
Chapter 6
Zike looked through the transparent plasti-steel of the cockpit floor. A miles-long, cigar-shaped void ship flowed beneath his shuttle as it passed over the hull. A docking bay opened into a ring of running lights as the shuttle neared the command superstructure—the only detail on an otherwise smooth, matte-grey hull.
Ahead, what looked like a bright and distant star, larger than the pinpricks of light in the deep void, shimmered as pulses of light from more void ships traced a line to the point.
The pilot, a bored-looking man in a sweat-stained flight suit, tapped at holo screens projecting over his controls.
“The Ligonier’s accepted our landing request,” the pilot said. “Weird accent. I don’t think it’s a company crew.”
“The client is a bit…eccentric. And private.” Zike examined his fingernails, then brushed them against his jacket. “As such, you’ll stay with the shuttle. Don’t go snooping about. Besides, I can get this done quick enough.”
“This is a shake-and-bake colony ship, right? Slow haul to the nexus with most everyone in stasis. What’s so private about a bunch of people on ice?” The pilot shifted in his seat then tugged at the helmet ring around his neck.
Zike pulled up the pilot’s HR file and skimmed it through his ocular implants. Several narcotic violations and open investigations for connections to illicit operators. He smiled. The main office must not have had any faith in his negotiation skills and hoped that the clients would take care of this problem child of a pilot and him at the same time.
He had to admire the efficiency. Meanwhile, if the pilot was looking for customers for whatever nose candy or contraband he had for sale, it wouldn’t do for him to be making such offers during Zike’s meeting.
“There are forty-seven thousand members of the Golden Light aboard this ship. They aren’t known for their hospitality,” Zike said.
The pilot did a double take at him. “That fucking cult?” He gripped his armrests and looked around like he was going to find an escape.
“Our customers, with whom we have several long-term contracts.”
“They…they’re why we can’t get shore leave on Paradise. The riots, the purges, the—”
“And Bahadur-Getty Incorporated sold the Golden Light a solution to their ongoing dispute with the planetary government, one that all parties involved want delivered,” Zike said. “So, any issue staying in the shuttle?”
The pilot shook his head so hard, a droplet of sweat landed on Zike’s shoulder.
“I didn’t think so.” He tapped a comm bead implanted beneath his left ear. “Furst, meet me at the ramp and double-check you’ve got the right presentation loaded up.”
****
Zike was well aware of the Golden Light’s reputation for…extremism, but seeing the Dauphin’s menagerie in person pushed even his psych-conditioning to its limits.
It was the screams, he knew. Even with his emotion-suppression algorithms acting to stem adrenaline and other stress hormones, some atavistic part of his brain still demanded a fight-or-flight response. He couldn’t tell where the screams came from as they walked down a narrow passageway, but they were getting louder.
He and Furst followed a few steps behind the vicar sent to meet them at the shuttle. The man hadn’t said a word, largely due to the rusted cage bolted over his mouth and jaw. He wore a coarse cloak that would’ve fit a larger man, but the bulky prosthetics supporting an augmented arm tipped in a trident and a metal leg that was several inches longer than his flesh-and-blood limb must have made getting dressed difficult for the vicar.
They turned a corner and Furst stopped dead in his tracks.
The way forward was lined with human skin, flayed and stretched out into display cases stacked three high on either side of the passage. Above, a strip of pass-through optic plating showed the void beyond. A simple arched doorway was at the end of the procession of horrors.
The screams suddenly stopped.
“S-s-sir?” Furst tried to back away, but Zike caught him by the scruff of the neck. “No, I think I forgot the seasonal data back on the shuttle, and if you’ll just let me—”
“She already knows you’re here,” Zike said. “She doesn’t appreciate shrinking violets, does she, my good man?”
The vicar turned around and looked them over with his single jaundiced eye, the other a dark socket that wept pus. He continued on, his metal foot stomping against the deck with a clang.
Zike grabbed Furst by the wrist and led him forward. His assistant had his eyes shut and his chin down, muttering prayers to some denomination that Zike didn’t recognize.
They reached the door, and the menagerie behind them began sobbing. Zike wasn’t sure if it was a recording or if the cult had found some…his conditioning snapped his mind away from the idea and a winning smile crossed his face, one designed to inspire confidence and put clients in the mood to close a deal.
With a pneumatic hiss, the doors opened a fraction of an inch, and a cloying odor hit him, like burnt sugar and vinegar. The doors retracted with a slam and the smell almost choked him.
Golden light hit him and he threw a han
d up to shield his eyes.
“Behold the glory!” someone shouted and the light receded.
It wasn’t so much “glory” that he beheld, but the customer was always right.
The Dauphin lounged on a golden throne, the design a throwback to mid-eighteenth-century European opulence. The woman wore a simple gown of shimmering fabric, her skin powdered to match the precious metal tone of the throne and most of the rest of the room. Her hair was in tight braid down to her neckline, tipped in gold. He couldn’t tell her age, but she looked at him with a simmering hatred. She tensed, as if she was going to pounce on Zike.
Her attendees didn’t strike him as the religious type; most were rough-looking men with prominent scars and irregular uniforms. All wore the same dark-green slacks and tunic, but their awards and ranks were a mishmash of fetishes and trophies, many of them rank insignia from the Paradise IX militia.
“Sir…sir, I’m scared,” Furst said and shrank behind Zike. The smell of urine wafted up and Zike chided himself for not upgrading his assistant’s emotion-suppression systems.
“I want what I paid for,” the Dauphin snarled at him.
“Greetings on behalf of Bahadur-Getty Incorporated.” Zike flung his arms out and changed his facial expression to default optimistic. “I’ve come with a project update that I know you’re going to—”
The Dauphin flicked her hand and a blow struck the back of Zike’s knees. He pitched forward and an electrified clamp seized him by his neck. His hair fell past his eyes and a note of panic grew in his chest before his conditioning fought it down.
“Please, please!” Furst was on his knees beside him, pawing at the shock collar attached to a metal rod wielded by one of the Dauphin’s entourage. “I’m just a tertiary employee, no benefits. I’m not even supposed to be here today—ack!”
The scent of ozone overpowered the smell of the moist patch in Furst’s pants as the guard gave him a jolt.
A gold-painted hand touched Zike’s chin and lifted his gaze. The Dauphin was a bit shorter than he’d anticipated, and even on his knees, his head came level with her chest.
“I got a message,” she said, glancing around, as if this was something they shouldn’t discuss, “that my planet…” She tapped his nose with each new word. “My. Planet. Is. On. Fire.”
Zike bit his lips. Someone at the regional office must have tipped her off. Someone that really had it in for him.
“Did we pay for a cinder?” She looked over her shoulder, feigning confusion. “Did we, my companions? Did we exchange the great worth of the temple treasury for a cinder?”
A grumble of “no’s” came back.
“There was a slight malfunction during a technical operation,” Zike said. “But in the interest of customer satisfaction, the company has—”
The Dauphin raised a hand overhead and blades snapped out from her fingers. She swiped them down across her body, twisting to one side.
Zike felt a whiff of air at their passing, then blood spattered his face.
Furst’s eyes went wide as a red curtain fell down his chest from neat lines across his neck. He tried to speak, but there were no words as his neck split into segments and his severed head fell forward, bumping into Zike’s knee. Furst’s eyes had life in them for a moment more, and they pleaded with him to do something. Anything.
Zike frowned for a moment, then smiled again.
“That’s for wasting my time.” The Dauphin held her bladed hand to one side and a rag-clad slave wiped the weapons clean with his own shirt. “You’re too broken to even feel fear, aren’t you?”
“It isn’t a particularly useful emotion, as far as Corporate is concerned,” he said.
“But can you scream?” She brought a finger close to his eye and the blade transformed into a tiny saw. The mosquito whine of the spinning instrument made his lips tug against his will. “Your corporate overlords let you keep pain…interesting.”
The saw snapped back into her finger and the clamp around his neck went away.
“You didn’t come here to convince my flock that we’re better off on a burnt-out rock, did you?” She went back to her throne and eased against a pillow tucked into a corner. “Because if you did, I might just let my men have you to play with.”
“Not in the slightest.” Zike pulled a data slate from under Furst’s body, using the dead man’s back to wipe off the blood. “We have a substitution in kind. A world within the contract specification of habitability. Let me introduce you to…Tyr!”
He swiped on the screen and a holo of the planet appeared between him and the Dauphin.
“Climate zones to match Earth pre-Strike. Beautiful coastal areas and breathing room for not only your contracted population, but your faithful back on Paradise who can be re-homed at a discount if you use Bahadur-Getty Incorporated’s life-cycle colonization package.”
The Dauphin leaned forward, her gaze skeptical. “Why didn’t your people try and sell me on this before…I received revelation to relocate off Paradise?”
“This world had a number of caveats on it that put it outside your price range—namely that there is an indigenous species of some sophistication,” Zike said. “But this is manageable! I’ve secured a Compliance Force that will remove any and all nuisance populations from your first colony zone.”
“How much of a problem are they?” The Dauphin reached out and took the holo. Her fingers strummed the air and more data appeared. “The primary star is too strong. You want us to die of skin cancer?”
“We will establish a radiation umbrella free of charge. With some topical sunblock, it won’t be much different from living on Paradise.” Zike winked, his confidence growing that she’d take the deal and not add his hide to her collection.
“The natives? How advanced are they? You’re not going to build my city and then leave us to fend off…how many million aliens?”
“Primitives…they’ve only adopted electricity and combustion engines in the last few generations. No match for a Compliance Force, especially not a veteran unit like I’ve secured. There won’t be any threat to you and yours once you transit the nexus point.”
“This data is almost a decade old,” said a man with a face split by a wide scar. “What if you’re wrong about them? The Reptilians’ tech evolutions in just the last five years have—”
“The indigenous population is nothing like the Reptilians. They’re shamanistic. Glacial progress when it comes to technology,” Zike said.
“And what of the epidemiological picture?” asked a woman in a bloodstained white coat. Her breathing was labored, a bionic rig on her chest and back serving as her lungs. “One virus is all it takes.”
“We have personnel on-planet that are already immunized to all local pathogens—part of our deep-space survey and assessment division,” Zike said. “We’ll have plenty of time to inoculate every colonist before this ship even makes it to Tyr orbit.”
“I want my city on a hill.” The Dauphin pushed the holo back to Zike and it vanished. “I want what we paid for, corpo. This ship will hit the nexus point in fifty-seven days. You’re going to deliver by that date?”
“Yes…of course!” Zike felt moisture against his foot. He looked down and saw that the puddle of blood from Furst had inundated the bottom of his shoe.
“There…you see?” she addressed her companions. “I have led us to a garden world, one we will still remake to our own desires.”
She leaned forward and pointed at Zike. “And if you deliver this world to us, I will summon the rest of my flock from a dozen worlds.” She gave him a wicked smile.
Zike’s heart raced as he made revenue projections.
“But if you don’t…if there’s no city on the hill for me and mine in fifty-seven days, then I’ll issue a missive against your Bahadur-Getty Incorporated. My faithful will take back five times the price you’ve charged us. No matter where we find your assets. No matter what we have to do to balance the scales.”
His projections
went into the red.
The Dauphin ran her fingertips along his cheek and it jerked as tiny needles pierced his skin and took biometric data.
“Naturally.” His voice cracked slightly and he decided to keep that last part of the exchange hidden from the Chairman—and anyone else in the company. If Getty knew of that threat, he might try and cut his losses before she could carry out her edict, and if he did that…there’d be no future for Zike within the company.
“These Tyr…I don’t even want them as slaves,” she said. “Clean slate across the planet.”
Zike thought for a moment.
“Eradication efforts are more time-consuming. You’ll have your city and we’ll provide security…but give me some leeway to achieve one hundred percent extinction,” he said.
“And you, Zike, what’s your role in this now?” she asked.
“I will accompany the Compliance Force and oversee Corporate efforts personally,” he said.
“A bargain,” she said, lounging back. “I have your blood. I have your scent, corpo. Try and run and we will hunt you down. My light shines everywhere.”
“I look forward to showing you around your new home,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m due to rendezvous with the Leopold to begin work.”
He glanced over Furst’s body.
“We’ll take care of the mess,” the Dauphin said, and waggled her fingers at him.
Chapter 7
“Sarah, wake up.” Daniel nudged his wife in the front passenger seat. The car was on what passed for a Tyr highway in the coastal provinces—a mostly paved road that cut through endless fields of ambary crops. Early morning light diffused through pollen as the tall stalks swayed in the breeze.
“Huh? Are we there?” Sarah rubbed an eye and adjusted her seat forward. She glanced at Hower and Michael in the back seat, both still asleep and Hower occasionally snoring.
“Coming up.” Daniel scraped the tip of his thumb up his right ear several times and glanced at the overhead light in the car.
