On the other hand, should he sell the weapons to another a party, and that party decided to use them, who was he to say they couldn’t? The blame for such atrocity would rest on the head of the one who made the decision to do so, whoever that was, and perhaps a little too on the heads of those who’d agreed to carry out the order. But not so much as a single drop of blame would belong to Zander who was, after all, merely a businessman. A trader. A market-maker. An exchanger of goods and services.
The weapons had originally been created through a combined endeavor of humans, Rotham, Polarians, and the Enclave that lived on Tybur in Alliance space. Ironically it had been the potential for great destruction that had fostered the first truly cooperative enterprise that had involved each of the major races. As it had been explained to Zander, the main science of the process had been developed by a woman named Tamara who’d supervised the construction of the missiles themselves in Polarian space at a place called Titan Three—which they completely ruined. The main component in the weapons, isotome, had been mined from its only natural source, the Xenobe Nebula Region, by the Enclave and delivered to Titan Three. There had only been enough stabilized isotome to create thirty-one missiles. Once the weapons had been made and successfully tested, however, that seemed to be where the cooperation ended. And each party had made their play, revealing their true hand.
The human element, which called itself the Phoenix Ring, had made two efforts to secure the weapons for themselves. They’d made a secret deal with the Enclave, for the Enclave to deliver the weapons to the humans in exchange for certain favors and payments. And secondly, the Phoenix Ring had replaced one of the members of the Enclave, the one who was supposed to deliver the weapons, with what they believed to be their own agent, to ensure that the weapons wound up in Phoenix Ring hands. After all, it had been their scientist who’d ingeniously invented the entire process of weaponizing the isotome in the first place, and the Phoenix Ring understood as well as the others that whoever was left holding the weapons in the end would have all the cards.
Something had gone wrong, however. Something that none of the humans expected, except for Zander. The Enclave had played the Phoenix Ring and had secretly made another deal, one with the Rahajiim—which was the Rotham element of the conspiracy. A group whose tenuous cooperation with the Phoenix Ring had always been temporary and limited, and they’d always intended to betray the Phoenix Ring. Indeed, the Phoenix Ring had thought the same thing of the Rahajiim. Both were dangerous, subversive, shadowy organizations that sought to promote their own interests, and the advancement of their respective races throughout the galaxy. Conflict between them had been inevitable. And the obvious point of difference would circle around the isotome weapons themselves, whichever group controlled them, that group would have unspeakable power over the other. Indeed over anyone else who understood the weapons’ true power.
And so the Enclave, which was growing very tired of its secretive, delicate existence among the non-Imperial humans occupying the DMZ between Rotham and Imperial space, had made deals with the Rahajiim too. Probably the Enclave’s leader weighed the value of what the Phoenix Ring offered against the promises of the Rahajiim. In the end, the Rahajiim’s offer prevailed. Zander didn’t know if that had been because the Enclave discovered that the Phoenix Ring had tried to trick them, by replacing one of their members, or if the Rahajiim had simply made the better offer. Whatever the case, arrangements were made and half the inventory of weapons were planted on the surface of Remus Nine. Awaiting transfer to the Rahajiim. The Enclave intended to withhold the other half as a means of ensuring the Rahajiim made good on their promises. Which, among other things, included such lavish perks as official, bona fide membership in the Rotham Republic, making the Enclave a legitimate political organization instead of an unwanted blight on the galaxy. They’d also be given control over Alliance space itself and would be permitted to corral the remaining humans of the Alliance, any who’d survived the takeover, and breed them for food.
Unfortunately, something went haywire. And somehow a rogue Imperial Intel Wing operative, undoubtedly working for the Organization, had found out about the sale and managed to get to Remus Nine before the Rahajiim did. By the time the Rahajiim fleet arrived, ready to take possession of the weapons, all the missiles on the planet had been permanently destroyed. And the Rahajiim were forced to leave the system empty-handed. Meanwhile the remaining fifteen weapons had been entrusted to Zander. Who was technically safekeeping them on behalf of the Enclave. They promised to pay him for his services and he’d negotiated for more, agreeing to sell them back their own weapons in exchange for proper compensation.
But therein lay the problem. Zander’s allegiances had changed so many times during this conflict, as the tethers of political convenience changed and the balance of power shifted. What mattered most to him was to get out of the chaos ahead, and be on the side that was still standing once the dust settled. In this sort of game, idealism counted for strikingly little, and adaptation counted for much. Indeed such was the natural order of all life everywhere, adapt and survive, resist change and die. Zander had followed the shifting winds, always staying one step ahead.
He’d started by joining a group called the Organization, and had even risen to a position of prominence among them as a group leader. That had been when he’d captained the Arcane Storm. But, as it became clear that the Organization, for all its passion and effort, was a force of nationalist idealism that was outmatched on every level by their sworn enemy, the Phoenix Ring, Zander had known it was time to adapt or die. And so, when the opportunity was ripe, Zander had changed sides. Taking some small amount of his crew with him, the ones he could persuade and trust. The rest had been tricked, gassed, killed, and jettisoned into space. They had failed to adapt and therefore nature had deselected them.
He’d then worked for Phoenix Ring in their dealings with the Enclave, and during that time Zander had taken his orders from Zane Martel himself, the linchpin of the entire Phoenix Ring network. That arrangement had enriched Zander greatly. But in doing that work, he’d learned of the superior might of the Rahajiim, and the expert craftiness of the shrewd and cunning Enclave. He could smell a foulness in the wind and knew it was time to change loyalties again, and so he had. And the Enclave had used him, used him to safeguard half of the weapons as they went to sell the rest to the Rahajiim, in defiance of their deal with the Phoenix Ring. And, just as Zander had predicted, the Phoenix Ring had collapsed after that. Its leadership slaughtered and hunted. It was still a mystery exactly who had been behind it, though reports of their violent deaths had spread far and wide, but Zander was sure the Rahajiim had been the ones to order the killing blow. Ridding themselves of a dangerous enemy and eliminating their only true rival in one swift stroke.
And ever since, the Rahajiim had done everything possible to make good on their deal with the Enclave, despite the failure of the Enclave to perform their part of the bargain and deliver the weapons on Remus Nine as agreed. The Rahajiim knew that there were still fifteen more warheads, and that they were in the Enclave’s possession, and more than anything they wanted them. And so they’d been all about forgiveness and second chances, bending over backwards to please the Enclave and secure the remaining isotome weapons from them. Doing everything possible to get their hands on weapons for which the rest of the galaxy had no answer.
The Enclave, persuaded by the Rahajiim’s efforts, seemed bent on repossessing the weapons and transferring them to the Rahajiim right away, just like the Rotham group wanted. And had sent notice to Zander to deliver them accordingly, promising him he would be compensated for his efforts. After all, he’d had to abandon the Arcane Storm and change ships, and even hide the weapons, in order to keep them safe from the Organization which, by all accounts, still vehemently pursued them. Compensation was owed to him.
But would it be enough? Zander wondered. I have in my possession the most valuable cargo in all the galaxy. And I am expected to simp
ly hand it over in exchange for some small fortune of money?
And that was assuming the Enclave would honor their agreement with him. He expected they would, they seemed to see the business sense in remaining true to their deals—other than the one they’d broken with the Phoenix Ring, though that betrayal of contract had been part of a larger bargain they’d made with the Rahajiim. But still… a part of him sincerely wondered if, once he gave them back their weapons, they wouldn’t simply kill him, and his crew, to better protect the secret and avoid having to pay out.
It was a thought that gave him chills and kept him awake at night. If the Enclave was after him, or the Rahajiim, then nowhere was safe. Even Zane Martel and all of his compatriots, for all their wealth, and power, and cunning, had been no match for the Rahajiim’s wrath once they’d decided it was over. How could Zander expect things to be any different for him?
The safest thing, for all its implied dangers, was to do what they wanted. Give them back their weapons, accept whatever compensation they offered, no matter how meager, and then be on his way. Seeking out the next business opportunity.
But, while that might have been the cautious thing to do, it was also the least opportunistic. And that grated against his instincts. He often dreamed of the vast wealth governments would give him for these deadliest of weapons.
The Imperial military was a potential buyer, though the government seemed to be fracturing into a state of civil war, the respective sides in the conflict still had significant wealth and incentive to want the isotome weapons.
Another prospective buyer was the Polarian military, or any of the independent states of the confederacy. None of them could marshal the kind of wealth the Empire could, or even that of the Republic, but they were a warrior culture and one with a deeply ingrained sense of honor and truth of word. He could trust them to both want the weapons covetously and to honor whatever bargain was struck.
Of course, the Rotham Republic itself presented a great mountain of opportunity as well. Even though the Polarians fostered the culture that most reveled in the glory of violence, history had shown it was actually the Rotham who were most willing to strike the first blow and seize opportunity to advance the Republic and annex more territory. Their latest efforts, which had resulted in the Great War, had been decidedly thwarted and in recent memory their fleets, mighty as they were, had been kept at bay by the even mightier war-machine of the Imperial Navy. Though a handful of isotome weapons could tip the scales, especially after the vast Imperial fleet destroyed itself in the seemingly inevitable political contest for the throne. Now that the King was murdered.
Zander even considered cutting out the middleman and selling the weapons directly to the Rahajiim itself. They were more dangerous and more cunning than even the Enclave, many hundred times more, and they would no doubt pay handsomely for the weapons regardless of the identity of the seller. So long as it meant they got what they wanted. They could even protect him from the Enclave’s wrath, if they wanted to. He could make it a term of the sale, but that didn’t mean they’d keep their word. Indeed everything he knew about the group caused him to harbor very deep suspicions. All groups, like all people, were motivated by self-interest, but the Rahajiim seemed particularly effective at finding ways to promote their own benefit and not care about the welfare of those who were no longer of any use to them, which would certainly be Zander the instant he’d transferred them the weapons.
What to do, what to do? He thought. Wrestling with the dilemma. Knowing that the extra time he’d purchased himself was soon to run out. And once it did, there was very little he could do to delay further without openly defying the Enclave.
Meanwhile his crew remained in the dark as much as Zander could keep them, doing as they were bid, accepting pay and following his instructions. They had some idea that their cargo was valuable, and Zander had promised them a share of the profits once they closed the deal—he’d had to in order to insure against betrayal—but they didn’t understand how truly valuable their cargo was. And Zander meant to keep it that way. No matter what he ultimately decided.
“We are being hailed,” said Rolland. He was one of the few who’d been with Zander since the beginning, when they’d worked for the Organization. Of all the souls on the ship, Zander doubted there was one he trusted more than Rolland. Not that it had made any difference, Zander had kept Rolland in the dark just as much as everyone else.
“By whom?” asked Zander.
“It’s Anton again.”
Damn. Of course it is.
The crew knew that name, Anton had been in regular contact with them for a long time. Since even before the sale on Remus Nine had gone haywire. The crew also knew that Anton was a representative for the purchaser of the cargo they carried, though most of the crew did not know—didn’t even suspect—that their buyer was the Enclave itself, and that Anton was a member. One of the nightmarish Remorii that seemed to thirst for human blood and the taste of flesh between his razor-sharp teeth.
“What does he want?” asked Zander. Annoyed that the Enclave was calling again, no doubt meaning to pressure him into delivering the weapons to them as soon as possible.
“He demands to know why, when his ship passed through the Kynar Asteroid Field, he found no one there to meet him,” reported Rolland.
“What?” said Zander, confused. He’d deliberately sent Julio and Todd in a shuttle he’d purchased with his own private money into the asteroid field to meet with Anton and buy Zander some time. And then Zander remembered how he’d let it slip to Julio and Todd that they would be meeting with the Enclave, and to expect approach from an almost undetectable Hunter ship. Damn those cowards, they must have run off in a spray of their own piss, Zander realized. He cursed himself too for letting them know too much.
“Yes,” said Rolland. “Anton says his ship made a pass of the coordinates we gave him and found nothing,” said Rolland. “He demands to know why we wasted his time. He says we were supposed to deliver the cargo to him there and collect our reward.” Anton had been expecting to meet with Zander in the Kynar Asteroid Field and the fact that Zander had sent Julio and Todd in his place, with none of the weapons, promised to be an unpleasant surprise. No wonder Julio and Todd had run off, they must have calculated that Anton and the rest of the Enclave would be livid.
Zander knew he had to come up with something good, but unfortunately he was under the gun and had no time, so he went with the first thing he thought of. “Tell him that we were unable to make the rendezvous because of a systems failure, but we’re on our way to meet him. We just have to stop at port for repairs first.”
Rolland looked at him blankly for a second, before relaying the message. He knew there had been no such systems failure, and that they were lying to Anton, which didn’t make sense to the rest of them because Anton was their buyer. And the crew wanted the reward they’d been promised. Why delay, and why risk offending their buyer to do so? But Zander wasn’t quite ready to hand over the isotome weapons just yet. Not until he’d made up his mind for certain what he should do.
For all he knew, the reward the Enclave had in store for them was death. And Zander just couldn’t stop thinking of the tremendous value the weapons had and how, once he emptied his cargo bay, the opportunity would be gone forever.
“He wants to know our position,” reported Rolland. “He says he’ll come to us.”
“Tell him to meet us at Izar Ceti,” said Zander, picking one of his favorite ports. It was a small place near the edge of the Empire with no local colony to protect and so it was given very little attention and maintained only a small garrison. Activity there was often… less-legitimate. Of course, there wasn’t truly any need for the Duchess to make port, no repairs were necessary and the ship had enough stockpiles of fuel and food to last a couple of weeks. But it was the only thing Zander could think of to delay Anton further. “Tell him it will take us some time before we are able to get there. We are far away and need to finish some minor
repairs before we arrive at Izar Ceti to undergo major repairs.” So many lies, Zander wondered how many he could tell before one slipped back to the Enclave and they decided to end him.
“Okay…” said Rolland. He relayed the message and Anton told them he was on his way. And that they should leave the minute they were able. But Zander had other plans.
“Setting course for Izar Ceti,” said Jasmine from the helm.
“Not just yet,” said Zander. Deciding then and there what he was going to do. “We have to make a stop first, on the way.”
“Where?” Jasmine spun her chair and looked at him. The crew was getting tired of him delaying the rich payout they all expected. And he knew, if he kept this up, they’d eventually mutiny.
“There is one important stop we must make,” explained Zander. “And then we will go to Izar Ceti and claim our reward. I swear it.”
“And what is this stop?” Jasmine’s dark eyes probed him, and Zander felt almost naked before her.
“Open space,” said Zander with a knowing smile. “One point two clicks on the far side Rana Kentaurus.”
“That’s really, really far away from Izar Ceti…” said Rollund, looking confused.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Zander. “It’s also out of sight from even the most prying of eyes.” Of course just about any position in open space, that wasn’t near a shipping lane, was well out of sight. But Zander liked the delay going to Rana Kentaurus would create. It was a worthless neutron star with nothing of value anywhere near it.
The Phoenix War Page 28
