The Animus Gate (Book One of The Animus Trilogy)

by Thomas M. McNamara

  Well now, thought Darius, maybe I’m not the only salesman left in the family.

  The woman stood there and bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you what. You come on in, and let’s see if you can convince me to hire you. But I should warn you, if there’s any funny business, I am prepared to show you the extent of my own expertise.”

  The brothers told her that this sounded like a fine idea. They were perhaps also eager to get off the street.

  “And leave that sack outside for now,” she added. She turned and headed back into the room.

  “Yes ma’am,” said Rali, setting the sack by the door.

  “And one more thing, don’t call me ‘Ma’am.’ My name is Nadira.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Nadira,” said Darius.

  She grinned. “Pleased to meet you too, Darius. Oh, and you gents wipe your feet on the mat before you come in. Whatever you’ve been walking in, you’d better not track it in here.”

  The brothers did as ordered and filed into the center of the motel room. Darius thought she had a nice smile.

  The digs were as basic on the inside as they were on the outside. The walls were painted a light peach. A wicker ceiling fan spun lazily. There was a compact desk by the window with a chair that folded out from the wall; a full-sized hoverbed with a nightstand and a charging field; and a dresser with touch-activated drawers, on which stood a holo emitter that could project the usual news and entertainment.

  There was another, larger table in the back, where Nadira had apparently set up a mobile office with a full-sized keypad and a privacy-enabled emitter. On the wall opposite the door, there was a photovid picture of the New Caledonia skyline in daytime. Clouds gently drifted in the background, and spacecraft landed periodically on the high-rise helipads.

  Nadira leaned against the wall by the picture and crossed her arms again. Darius suspected that she was keeping a calculated distance. She gestured towards the bed. “Have a seat, gentlemen...and let’s chat.”

  -4-

  The Bakari brothers brought Nadira Markosian up to speed. Then she spent an eternity at her work desk, quietly sipping tea and examining the holo emitter’s output. Its privacy shield prevented the two brothers from seeing exactly what she was looking at. News footage, maybe? Rap sheets?

  Police sirens had yet to bray in the distance, which was a good sign.

  Other than Nadira clicking away at her keypad, the room was quiet enough that one could hear the faint creak of the ceiling fan. Its rotation was so slow that its contribution to air circulation was basically ceremonial.

  Nadira leaned back in her chair and inspected her guests.

  “Well that’s quite a story, boys,” she said at last.

  Darius and Rali had enough wisdom to remain silent.

  Nadira got up and rummaged through the dresser by her bed. She collected a few items of clothing and headed towards the bathroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told them. “Don’t go anywhere...”

  At least it didn’t smell like sewage in here. Darius had feared that he would never get that smell out of his nose, though some of it seemed to be wafting up from his jacket. Might have been his imagination.

  Nadira emerged from the bathroom wearing a white sleeveless tee, tan khakis, and hiking boots. Her hair was tied into a bun, which emphasized the slightly feline angle of her eyes.

  “Well,” she said, “it looks like just a couple gang members got killed. By the police. But the damage to the gift shop...” She shook her head. “It’s quite considerable.”

  She walked over to them and crossed her arms. “The people you owe money to aren’t going to be happy about losing their people, Rali. And if the police figure out that you used them to get some debt collectors off your back, they’re going to bill you for their services. And trust me, that’s not cheap.”

  She began pacing between the dresser and the bed. “But...I have to admit that, while you’ve screwed some things up pretty badly, you’ve also proven to be very resourceful. It’s not often that people without combat training can figure out how to keep, let’s see, seven modded gang members at bay while also dealing with a gunshot wound. Commandeering the van, taking the sewers, stunning the gang with the mapper bots—that kind of adaptability in the midst of mortal danger almost reminds me of an imperial covert field op.”

  She leaned against the wall again and examined her fingernails. “If I were an imperial judge, I’d probably be throwing you behind bars for vehicular assault, property damage, misuse of emergency services, reckless evasion, and that’s off the top of my head. But as a field agent, I see...” She stopped and squinted at them. “...potential.”

  Darius didn’t know quite how to answer that, so silence still looked like the best option.

  She tapped her chin with a finger. “With some proper guidance,” she said, “I think I could mold you into productive citizens. But at the least, you possess the kind of improvisation and adaptability that I like to see in the people who are watching my back. You both take after your father.”

  She walked slowly back to her desk, sat down, and sipped more tea. “But leaving bodies behind, that’s messy. Getting the police involved, messier still. So of course, not a single cent of my funds would go into your pockets. All of that would have to go to your mother to piece her shop back together. With the police probably looking for you, any funds transferred to you right now would be tainted anyway. You’ll have to find some other way to satisfy your creditors.”

  Darius cleared his throat. “How...how would you get the money to her? She’s not the type to accept a check out of the blue.”

  “The empire is not unwilling to provide special dispensation if it ensures the reliable long-term flow of tax revenue,” said Nadira. “I had an analysis done on your business, and it concluded that Bakari Antiquities is a substantial part of the neighborhood’s contribution to the coffers. It’s what they call a tax anchor. So we’ll send her the funds to cover repair costs, and we reimburse her insurer later. The funds come out of the payment that I was authorized to give you.”

  “You did an entire analysis while we were sitting here on the bed?” asked Rali.

  “Not personally, I just handed it over to an AI. Most bureau personnel are actually virtual.”

  Darius asked, “What exactly is it that you do, ma’am? I mean, Nadira.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m an imperial field agent. Specifically, for the Ministry of Technology, Division of Materials Acquisition, specializing in indigenous cultures.”

  “Why would the MoT have that specialty?” asked Darius.

  “Well,” she said, “pre-industrial peoples often settle near valuable natural resources, many of which still get over looked by orbital scanners, despite continual advances in imperial technology. We look for clusters of tribal dwellings as a basis for further investigation. And as it turns out, we’ve gotten a few hits over the centuries here on Telamat. The metal alloy telamatium was derived from discoveries that were made here, in fact.”

  She got up from her desk and began pacing again. “The tropical belt of this planet covers millions of square kilometers, and it’s dense enough to hide many abandoned pre-industrial sites—temples, aqueducts, that kind of thing—so the empire has felt compelled to do continual sweeps to reveal such structures. They recently identified a promising candidate for further review.”

  Darius nodded. “The ruins of Baloneth.”

  “Exactly. We’ve known about them for some time, but we didn’t do a metallurgic analysis until recently. It turns out that the area around the ruins has some interesting properties in that regard. Properties that elsewhere have been associated with interesting technological advancements among pre-human cultures.”

  “But that area has already been explored,” he said. “I don’t recall hearing about anything unusual there.”

  “It’s not likely that you would. Our review collated information from multiple star systems.”

  Rali as
ked, “Are you saying that the ruins from another planet had information about ruins on this one?”

  “That’s about the extent of what I can tell you at this time,” said Nadira.

  Darius had never had an appetite for dramatic airs of mystery, but the lady was their ticket out of a pretty serious jam, so he didn’t press further.

  Nadira caught his expression. “It’s mostly standard procedure.” She squinted at Rali. “...And I’m still not sure if I can totally trust you gents yet.”

  “All right” said Darius, “But I have a logistical question. If you have the backing of the MoT, why don’t you just arrange to be air-dropped right in?”

  Nadira considered it. “Fair enough. There are a few reasons. One, the sensitivity of the operation. Since the location may be of interstellar significance, that puts it in a higher category of secrecy. Two, where the empire finds resources, sometimes our enemies find an opportunity to sabotage. Three, there has been a recent uptick in surveillance.”

  He wanted to ask “By whom?” But not as much as he wanted to get paid.

  “Either way,” Nadira continued, “It’s better for me to operate under the guise of a tourist, rather than arranging an orbital drop. This way, I don’t seem to warrant a second glance. You must understand, we are guided by a man who has been running this empire for centuries. His attention to detail and discretion flows down into everything that we do.”

  “So what your saying is, we’re basically a cover,” said Darius.

  “Well, a cover whose jungle expertise I legitimately have need of, whether I’m dropping in or trekking through. And although you would not be my first pick, I’m on a tight schedule. So...I think I can hire you, on a provisional basis. But if the police track you down, I will not wave my imperial badge at them. I need to keep my profile low, and we are discouraged from interfering with the local authorities unless it’s an emergency.”

  “What about the gang?” asked Rali.

  “Well, like I said, I’m not going to cover your debt. But if we come into contact with them, I am authorized to meet them with force. I know I don’t look like much,” she said with a faint smile, “but let me put it this way: In a fight, you’d rather have me on your side. So, what do you say?”

  Darius threw up his hands and said, “I think that’s the best offer we’re gonna get from anyone.”

  Rali shrugged dejectedly.

  “Although,” Darius added, “I do have to admit that the kit we’ve packed isn’t exactly comprehensive. I threw it together in a hurry.”

  “Luckily for you,” said Nadira, “I’ve already brought gear of my own. Like Is said, the empire is a meticulously run operation.” She gestured to the dresser. “The standard temperate planet expedition package is all in there, ready to be selected from. Take a look.”

  The brothers went over to the dresser to examine the equipment. Darius brushed the top of the dresser from left to right, and all of the drawers slid out. Among the items, Darius noted two scanner visors that would effectively replace a wristpad.

  “I’ve seen these before,” he said, holding one up for closer inspection. “They have electrodes, and you just think what you want to type and what virtual buttons you want to press. Nice tech.”

  “Just keep in mind,” Nadira said, “All of this is on loan from the empire. These are not gifts or forms of payment for services rendered. They expect all of this back, in fully working order, upon the completion of the mission. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” said Darius. “Right, Rali?”

  “Hm? Oh, yes. Property of Sar-Zin. You betcha.”

  Nadira gave Rali a lingering glance, but she left it there.

  Other than the visors, there were a few sets of auto-fitting shirts and pants made of a synthetic polymer smartweave, a water purifier half the size of the one Darius had collected from the shop (and judging by the model number, twice as powerful), several battery packs, a few hammocks, and one cylindrical object the size of a loaf of bread that he didn’t recognize.

  Darius held up this last one. “What’s this? ‘Alarian Energy Systems, Biomass Conversion Unit A3.’ Never seen one of those.”

  Nadira smiled. “It can take the jungle’s biomass and convert it to battery power. I also have a similar gadget that can convert biomass into human-digestible protein.”

  “Wow,” said Rali. “Nice.”

  Rali smirked. “Do you have one that can convert human digestible protein into jungle biomass? Imagine the possibilities.”

  Nadira sighed and shook her head.

  Darius ignored his brother and gathered up the supplies. “I guess we’d better grab this stuff and get going, then.”

  Since the Bakari brothers were still being hunted by the police and violent criminals, they got Nadira’s rented van packed in record time, and they were on the road by nightfall. On the way, Darius used some biogel from Nadira’s fancier medkit to accelerate the healing of his wound.

  The side and rear windows were made of privacy glass that blocked both visible and infrared light, so they were unlikely to be spotted on the road. Not that the brothers cared as they made their way out of town—they were too busy getting some much-needed sleep. But while Darius snored quietly, Rali tossed and turned. Nadira’s touch did not calm him. She put a blanket over Darius, but Rali was already sweating without one. She gave herself about an hour to review her mission brief before she’d have to get some sleep herself.

  According to the brief, there were seven planets in six star systems within 50 light-years of Telamat that contained the ruins of post-industrial civilizations. Of those, the empire had recovered four sets of legible historical archives. The texts had proved highly difficult to decipher, but imperial archeologists determined there was astronomical imagery that could be cross-referenced. Three of these maps indicated a special significance for the Dvorak star system that Telamat called home. And Telamat was the only planet in this system that had ever been known to harbor life.

  According to imperial analysts, the implication was that Telamat had been the home system for a civilization that was capable of interstellar flight. The problem was, there was hardly a trace of such a people that corresponded to the era in which the temples on Telamat were being built. Not in the archives of the Sar-Zin empire, nor that of any other starfaring society.

  Though the galaxy’s different star-faring species had their conflicts, sometimes to the point of open warfare, they usually shared data on ancient civilizations; a primordial enemy that the whole galaxy knew was better than one it did not. So if the ancient Telamatians had ever existed, they were extraordinarily good at covering their tracks.

  As for the ruins of Baloneth in particular, it was the founder of Bakari Antiquities himself who had provided a clue. But that part wasn’t in the brief.

  An incoming call chimed in Nadira’s earpiece, interrupting her train of thought. According to her holo visor, it was her handler Madowé checking in.

  “Is this a good time to talk?” he asked. That was code for “Do you have enough privacy for secure communication?”

  “Let me get set up,” she said quietly. She switched her visor to a neural link and jacked into a holo pod. This was a compact virtual space where she could talk and move while her physical body remained immobile; in so doing, the system eliminated eavesdropping.

  This particular pod space rendered what looked like a mid-21st century suburban house, just after sunrise. Madowé was sitting at a round kitchen table and reading a newspaper, or pretending to. The morning light shone through a sliding glass door that led to a lush backyard. It lit up the faded linoleum of the kitchen floor with a warm yellow glow. On the table, there was a plate of eggs and bacon and a steaming mug of coffee. He even had a golden retriever sitting at his feet, panting away with a smile as they do.

  Physically, Madowé must have been within sight of Telamat, or else there would have been too much signal latency to attempt a real-time conversation. The telegates that connected
thousands of star systems across the Milky Way provided instant travel across hundreds of light years, but no one knew of a similar technology that could operate at the interplanetary scale. If they did, they weren't talking.

  “Madowé, look at you. How long have you been working on this pod?”

  Madowé looked up. He was a burly, middle-aged Black man with an easy smile and a deep laugh. He smiled now. “Ah, welcome to my humble abode, Nadira.” He gestured to an empty chair at the table. “Generations ago, I had family who lived in a house just like this one. I have been recreating it from their old photos and vids. This dog, though.” He looked down at it and frowned. “He takes no interest in the eggs or bacon. It breaks the immersion.”

  “Is that soy bacon or pork bacon?”

  “Well, pork is against my religion, so the soy was a natural thing for me. Why?”

  “Dogs didn’t eat tofu, Madowé. Also, nobody was still reading newspapers by the mid-21st.”

  “Ah. I will have to do some research on what pork bacon was like.”

  Nadira sat down at the kitchen table. The pod was impressive—she could even feel the warmth of the sun coming through the back window. “So what’s up?”

  Madowé put the newspaper down. “I just got your last report. Sounds like a doozy. You sure your guides are all right?”

  Nadira shrugged. “They check out. They’re a little sloppy and rough around the edges—but they’re also very good at getting out of the messes they make. I’m not sure I would have done better at their age. I think they’ll do well enough.”

  “If you say so, Nadira. You’ve got the experience.”

  “Is that a dig about my age?”

  “Ma’am, you age like the finest of wines.”

  “That’s more like it.” She leaned down to pet the dog. Its fur felt real enough. “This pooch got a name?”

  “Yes. Bandit.”

  “That’s a good dog name.” She leaned down to pet him.

  “That is what the archives tell me. Just...don’t try the coffee. It still needs a lot of work.”