Echo Rift

by G. S. Jennsen

  “It’s fine, Prador. Let them in.”

  She spun toward the voice to see Ziton elasson-Praesidis standing at the entrance to a long hallway. He wore a too-slick gunmetal-gray business suit over a shiny crimson turtleneck, but the trademark wavy raven hair and piercing sapphire eyes were the same.

  She and Lontias exchanged a look, then abandoned the chagrined guard to follow him down the hallway to his office.

  As soon as the door had shut behind them, Ziton regarded them curiously. “Nyx. Lontias. I didn’t think I’d ever see either of you again.”

  Nyx arched an eyebrow. “Same.”

  Lontias chuckled. “Hiding as an ela? Isn’t that beneath you?”

  “By definition. But didn’t you hear? It’s a new world out there.”

  Sensing her opening, Nyx stepped closer. “More than you know. We have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m in.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me? I haven’t told you what it is yet.”

  “Don’t care. I’m going mad from boredom at the sameness of it all in this soul-killing job on this tedious, cookie-cutter planet. I need a change of pace before I tear my hair out and start blowing up expensive property.”

  Her brow furrowed up. “Okay. I’m glad to hear it, I think. Still, there are some things I should tell you.”

  “You can tell me on the way to wherever we’re headed. Let me stop off at the front desk to tender my resignation and drop by my apartment to grab a few things, then let’s be on our way.”

  29

  * * *

  PANDORA

  Mia thrust the data disk from Escapes Extraordinaire toward Eli Baca. “I got your files. Didn’t run into any problems. Now pay me.”

  He made a face at the disk and waved her off. “Go take it to Isaiah. He’ll get it on a transport. I’ll pay you when he says the data’s good.”

  Annoyance and hunger gnawed at Mia’s gut. “Fuck, Eli—I’m not one of your pansy runners!”

  His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her onto her knees in front of him. “You’re whatever I say you are, sweetie, because I own you. Don’t I?”

  Spit gathered on her tongue, ready to spew forth. Hit him between the eyes with it. She could do it.

  “Say it!” His meaty, clammy fingers tightened their grip until they cut off the blood flow to her hand.

  She swallowed the spit, and the last vestiges of her imagined dignity accompanied it down her throat. The whisper escaped through gritted teeth. “You own me.”

  Mia’s eyes popped open. Her heart skittered around in her chest, and her stomach churned violently. She rolled over to seek comfort in Malcolm’s arms…

  …but of course the other side of the bed was empty. She was alone, by her choice. In this second she wanted more than anything to have made another choice.

  You still can.

  She ignored Meno to get up and stumble to the small lavatory, where she splashed cold water on her face. The haunted visage staring back at her in the mirror carried in it the crushing defeat of the memory-dream.

  She shouldn’t be surprised that old memories were rising up out of the depths to haunt the nightmares of her sleeping hours and the shadows of her waking ones. Maybe she should’ve picked somewhere other than Pandora to vanish. Half a dozen other human colonies were lawless enough for her to safely hide, yet civilized enough for her to build a business and, eventually, a life.

  But she was here now, so she’d have to deal with the repercussions. She dragged herself back into the bedroom, collapsed on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, though she’d resigned herself to the fact that sleep would not be rejoining her tonight.

  If you are going to lie here and brood, perhaps you’d like to review the report I’ve prepared on Enzio Vilane.

  She mentally perked up. You’ve finished your research already?

  I have, and I believe you will find the results most interesting.

  Will I now?

  She opened up the file and started reading.

  Enzio Vilane

  Born: Approximately 2314

  Father: Unknown

  Mother: Unknown

  History: Enzio’s birth was not recorded in any official repository. The first time he appeared in any records was when he enrolled at the prestigious Kalende Preparatory boarding school on Romane at the age of seven.

  Kalende’s financial records indicate Enzio’s tuition was paid by a holding company called Render Investments. A thorough investigation of the company’s ownership reveals a trail of shell companies and fictitious investors. The trail ultimately ends, however, at Aiden Trieneri, the now-deceased former leader of the Triene cartel.

  Enzio went on to attend École Polytechnique on Earth and Tellica University on Seneca, where he received undergraduate degrees in accounting and finance and a Masters in Business Administration, respectively.

  After completing his studies at Tellica, Enzio disappeared from public view for two years before resurfacing as the CEO of a then-small real estate company, Vilane Properties, on Pandora. A complete list of Vilane Properties’ holdings is not available, but they are believed to be extensive, including commercial and residential properties in every district of Pandora as well as properties on Romane, Pyxis, Scythia and Krysk.

  His reappearance also coincides with the rise of the nascent Rivinchi cartel on Pandora. Though inconclusive, persuasive evidence exists linking him to the (admittedly obscure) Rivinchi leadership structure. If Enzio is involved in Rivinchi, this behavior is at odds with his public persona as a community leader and philanthropic businessman.

  Damn. When she’d remarked how Enzio was trouble, she’d had no idea how right she was.

  No way did you find all of this on the exanet.

  Clearly I didn’t. I maintain close contact with a number of Artificials and databanks operating within governmental agencies and…other organizations.

  She scowled at the bare ceiling above her. Shouldn’t I know all of your friends?

  I never said they were my friends. To answer the question you intend to ask: the speculation as to his possible leadership position in the Rivinchi cartel does not come from reputable sources. Nonetheless, it is likely true.

  So the authorities don’t know about his cartel ties?

  Not so far as I was able to determine. To the world, he presents as an upstanding and increasingly influential businessman.

  She sat up in the bed and rubbed at her face. No parents of record—no record of him ever being born at all—and Aiden Trieneri paid for his education. Could Trieneri be his father?

  An analysis of Enzio’s facial features and bone structure returns a 69 to 78 percent probability that he is a first-generation relative of Mr. Trieneri.

  Way to bury the lede, Meno.

  I don’t follow.

  If you assume that he’s Trieneri’s son, the rest of the story starts making a lot more sense.

  Enzio would have only been around nine years old when his father died, arguably too young to have been groomed in his father’s image. But he might have decided to take the mantle upon himself, devoting his life to rebuilding what his father had lost—or possibly to eclipsing the man’s achievements. He’d received the best education money could buy, all geared toward his chosen ‘career’ in business, illicit or otherwise. Then, a two-year gap. Had he spent it acquiring the people and assets that would become the linchpins of the Rivinchi cartel?

  It is a shame. He genuinely did seem like a nice man.

  All these years, Meno, and you’re still too naive and trusting. People aren’t always what they seem.

  This was what she’d sensed in her initial encounter with Enzio. All smooth, affable confidence and grace on the outside, but beneath it, something sinister and calculating. Something dangerous.

  The reason for his sudden cookie-bearing arrival at her store now became clear. His enforcer, Chad, had reported back to the boss that the newest local store owner was a Prevo with a mo
uth and an attitude. Enzio had visited her to assess the problem for himself. To take the measure of her.

  What had he walked away believing about her, she wondered?

  This was all speculation, but she’d spent several years embroiled in the cartels long ago and many years since then judging the character and motivations of adversaries and allies alike. All her instincts told her she had the right of it.

  With a groan she crawled back out of the bed and headed to the shower, though dawn was only a hint of light on the horizon. Dammit, she did not come to Pandora to get involved in this kind of nonsense.

  Sixteen sleep-deprived hours later, Mia was locking up the store for the night when Enzio Vilane magically appeared beside her on the sidewalk. “Ms. Balente, good evening. I wanted to stop by and see how things are going for you.”

  She cut her eyes over at him briefly; now that she knew the truth, the predator lurking behind the friendly guise was easy to spot. She held up a hand. “One second, please.” She slipped inside, closed the door behind her and went to retrieve his plate from underneath the counter.

  He was pacing along the outside of her storefront when she re-emerged and presented him with the plate. “Here you go. Washed and dried.”

  His brow furrowed. “I was actually kidding about returning for the plate. You were welcome to keep it.”

  “No, I wasn’t. It belongs to you, and now I’ve returned it. I can reimburse you for the cookies, or if you prefer, I can include a little extra in my next protection payment.”

  His gaze immediately hooded. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  She locked the door to the store and pivoted to face him. “I know who you are, and you own a great deal more than ‘a couple of apartment buildings.’ I know you secretly run the Rivinchi cartel and have designs on taking over The Approach, then all of Pandora.

  “I don’t care for cartels and gangs and underworld crime syndicates, but I also don’t care what you do with your time. I just want to be left alone. So here’s the deal I’m offering you, Mr. Vilane: I’ll pay your protection money without complaint, and I’ll keep my mouth shut about your shady dealings. In return, you’ll stay out of my way. Far out of my way.”

  Enzio was a handsome man—but only so long as he kept the mask in place. In a blink, the friendly, ingratiating countenance vanished, to be replaced by something dark and threatening.

  He took a step toward her. “How could you possibly believe you ‘know’ such things? Who are you?”

  “I told you. Someone who wants to be left alone.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You don’t get to make demands of me, Laisha. This silly little store you’re clinging to? I own it. I own this street, I own this block, I own everything you can see in all directions. I own your apartment building, too, and you know what that means? It means I own you. I make the rules. I go wherever I want and talk to whomever I please. So the next time I walk into your store—and trust me, I will be frequenting it—you’ll want to be nicer to me.”

  Mia stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Eli Baca. He failed to recognize her in the long coat and hood, and made to veer around her.

  She took a single step sideways to block his path, activated the blade and plunged it into his heart.

  Eli was fat, but her blade was far from tiny. A bloom of red unfurled to dye his sweaty shirt crimson as he gaped at her in shock and confusion.

  She reached up with her free hand, pulled the hood off and leveled a cold, malevolent glare at him. “You don’t own me anymore.”

  Every alarm bell in her mind flared in agony, and her teeth ground painfully from the effort of not screaming out to the heavens in frustration and rage. Her right hand clenched and unclenched at her side, energy threatening to crackle out from her fingertips. He was a Prevo; she could kill him with a single, hard stare. But he was Prevo; it wouldn’t do any good. His Artificial would have him back up and terrorizing the streets and her in a matter of days.

  She reached down deep for the rebellious, brave, desperate spirit that had enabled her to kill Eli Baca and free herself from servitude all those years ago…and found only a broken heart and a feeble, wounded soul.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out his sneer. “Isn’t it enough for me to play along with your rules, pay your extortion and not report your nefarious deeds to the cops?”

  He snorted. “There aren’t any cops on Pandora.”

  “What are you planning to do to Eli’s operation?”

  Caleb shrugged. “I’m going to explosively dismantle his chimeral production line and bring the cops down on the remains.”

  “There aren’t any cops here.”

  He laughed. It bore a hint of mystery, as if to imply he knew more about Pandora than she did. “Yes, there are.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, much as Caleb had in the memory. In her years as an IDCC government official, she’d come to learn quite a lot about the hidden police presence on Pandora. “Yes, there are. They’ll let you play your games here so long as you don’t stick your head up too far above the crowd. But you had better keep a light touch, else someone with arrest powers will notice what you’re doing. You wouldn’t want to end up like your father.”

  His expression morphed in a flare of…not rage, precisely. Frustration? “Never mention my father again. He is dead to me.”

  “In fairness, he’s dead to everyone.”

  His hand snapped out toward her throat, and she pressed harder against the glass window of the storefront behind her. But he pulled up a centimeter before his fingers curled around her neck. A smirk tweaked at the corners of his mouth, and instead he let his fingertips stroke her jaw.

  “You think you’re clever. I can see it in your eyes—a haughty defiance, as if I’m somehow beneath you. But understand this: you are nothing. A gnat I can plaster all over the wall with a swat of my hand. I am warning you here and now, do not fuck with me, or I will do exactly that.”

  “I don’t want to fuck with you, Mr. Vilane. I swear, I simply want to be left alone.”

  “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

  “Then you will regret it.”

  His lips pinched, giving him a petulant, whiny aspect. “Did you just threaten me?”

  “No, I merely stated a fact. Let me run my shop in peace. Forget all about me, and we’ll get along fine.”

  “Aren’t you listening? You don’t make the rules here. I do.”

  She really, really should have let him have his imagined victory. She did not come to Pandora to get involved in this kind of nonsense.

  But she was who she had always been. “We’ll see if you’re right, won’t we?”

  He blinked in surprise, took a step away and blustered something about a meeting demanding his time. His expression locked down, and he stalked off down the sidewalk in the waning evening light.

  I fear that was a foolhardy action for you to take.

  Maybe. But it was fun.

  Mia, the sensations you are currently experiencing do not resemble fun.

  Her stomach churned to confirm Meno’s analysis. Dammit! This could not be happening to her again.

  Every day since the night twenty-nine years ago when she’d gutted Eli Baca like the pig he was, her life had been on an upward trajectory, one that had taken her to such rarefied, exquisite heights. Every day, that was, until the one on which Malcolm died. Then he un-died, and nothing made sense anymore, and now…

  …was it possible she was right back where she’d started?

  Caustic laughter seared her throat. History might not repeat itself, but it did hilariously rhyme.

  30

  * * *

  CHALMUN STATION ASTERIOD

  Large Magellanic Cloud

  Marlee was of two distinct minds as she wandered along the maze of hallways cutting through Chalmun Station. On the negative side, the claustrophobic corridors of the hollowed-out asteroid reminded her a touch too much of the tunnel network beneath Na
mino One. Twice already, her heart had stopped at the sudden appearance of a dark form that resembled a Rasu when viewed in the corner of her vision. But on the other hand, how cool was this place? A cornucopia of aliens wandered to and fro in every direction. Rogues, thugs and general ne’er-do-wells hung out in every alcove and packed every shadow-laden gathering hole.

  She wasn’t worried about her safety. She carried a brand-new plasma blade in her pocket, plus she was increasingly confident in her self-defense capabilities thanks to Caleb’s rigorous training regimen.

  But Caleb would remind her to be humble. To have ‘the beginner’s mindset’ in all things. Because she was listening to (most of) his advice these days, she tried to do so.

  She breathed in and took note of the flow of movement around her. Of the slovenly Barisan who leered at every passerby from one corner of the branching intersection ahead. Of the willowy Naraida slipping through the crowd, pick-pocketing every fifth passerby of any valuables not secured to their person. Of the large, russet-and-sage Volucri guarding the entrance to a shop by flexing its claws and threatening to dive-bomb anyone who approached the door.

  She slid effortlessly to the side a nanosecond before a Khokteh shoved past her, his tall, thick body and tail taking up half the passageway as he barged onward toward an urgent destination.

  Then she was at the entrance to Purgatory. She froze for a moment, her legs primed to pivot and flee—but she was being ridiculous. Before leaving the Siyane, Morgan had invited her to drop by sometime, hadn’t she? Yes, she absolutely had. So Marlee ran her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to smooth it out, tamped down any telltale wrinkles in her fitted champagne top and strode inside.