Giles Kurns_Rogue Instigator

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Voyved watched her for a moment, then turned and continued the tour.

  “So what else is it used for?” Anne asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

  “Well, technically it can be inset with other molecules, which would preserve them.”

  “Like DNA for instance?”

  “Like DNA,” he repeated slowly. “But that would have all kinds of ethical implications. The Queegert Board of Ethics and Religious Responsibility would probably put a stop to that if any lab tried pulling that one. Plus,” he continued, “it would be a hugely expensive way of doing it just for preservation. There are much better DNA storage methods around these days.

  “What about for just data storage?”

  “Oh, my . . .” He frowned for a moment considering the question. “It could probably be done . . . but again, much cheaper, more-efficient methods. You’d only go to the expense of something like that if you had data worth storing for a few millennia.”

  “Like a time capsule?”

  Voyved smiled at her. “I don’t think the school system would deem the expense worthy of something like that. They’re more likely to bury a sealed container in the playground than encode anything in DNA and set it into etheriam.” His tone was patronizing now.

  Anne just nodded, accepting her role as the lesser intellect. It’s the easier way of dealing with grownup egos, she reminded herself.

  “This is what it looks like though.” He pulled up a screen to make it larger, displaying the difference between the composition of the core and the refined etheriam. He beckoned her closer. “So far, I think my device can get it to ninety-eight percent purity,” he confided.

  Anne made the appropriately impressed facial expression. “That’s . . . wow.”

  He shifted his weight, trying to conceal his childlike excitement. “It’s early stages though,” he said as if reminding himself more than conveying information to her.

  Anne carefully studied the two charts, using one against the other to help her memorize the key features. She’d seen something similar in Arlene’s research, and something told her this wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what she might’ve been working on.

  How to tell her though without revealing that she’d been wandering around in the mine was going to be another issue.

  Phoenix-Delta Outpost

  Giles must’ve been staring out the window for nearly an hour. Scamp had, in the meantime, checked in twice. Once on text and once with voice. Giles decided he really needed to have Oz check him out when they got back.

  He’d just got up to have a wander around the open plan lounge cum office when the door to the corridor wooshed open and Bill came striding back in.

  “Ok!” he declared, triumphantly, clearly in productivity mode. “I called in some favors, and it will actually make a few people some good money, so . . .” he grinned, “you’ve got a deal!”

  Giles’s face lit up as he moved over to shake hands with his old pal. The two men celebrated with hugs and back slaps.

  Bill ushered them back to the seating area and called for Lolita to bring more drinks.

  “I found a way to sell it. It wasn’t easy . . . but I think there’s an opportunity to make this a win-win-win.”

  Giles sighed. “Knew you’d be able to figure a way,” he chuckled.

  Bill picked at some of the leftover muckgrass on his plate. “Yeah, well, it turns out that the refining process isn’t too dissimilar from another process they’re using on Copernicus.”

  Giles’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh, what are you refining there?”

  Bill’s lips sealed shut, and he shook his head once. “Don’t ask.”

  Giles looked suspicious.

  Bill said it again. “No, really. Don’t ask.”

  Giles took the message. “But what does this mean? That you can use the same equipment?”

  Bill bobbed his head from side to side. “Same equipment, mostly. Same process . . . with a few tweaks. Tweaks are going to cost, though.”

  Giles’s heart sank. “But can you make it happen?”

  Bill grinned, deviously. “Yeah, I’m taking the setup costs out of your cut on the Namachron venture.”

  Giles snorted a laugh. “Fine,” he agreed quickly.

  Bill frowned, confused but amused.

  Giles waved his hand. “Come on, it was a lot of money, but I hardly have any need for credits sitting in a remote account in a system I never frequent,” he confessed.

  Bill seemed satisfied. Pleased even. “Good then,” he said, obviously stumped by how fast Giles made the decision. “I’ll, er . . . get it set up.”

  Giles sipped his now-cold tea. “And then, need you to come talk to the group. The Logans. Miners. They need the reassurance that there’s a way out now that you’re on board.”

  Bill had started to get up again but stopped, his hands on his thighs. He drew a deep breath. “You know, Giles, old mate, I’d love to, but—”

  “You’re very busy, yadda, yadda,” Giles teased. “You would, but you can’t . . . yadda, yadda.” Giles shook his head. “Always the same story.” Then his face changed, and his tone became more serious. Genuinely serious. “But if you don’t,” Giles continued, “I fear there will be a lot of deaths—starvation . . . lots of starvation. And riots.” He paused. “We’ve both seen what that can do to a people.”

  Bill nodded gravely, considering his options. “Tell me,” he said after a moment, “are you still hanging with that Estarian girl . . . what was her name . . .? Alice?”

  “Arlene,” Giles corrected. “And yes.”

  “Did you marry her?”

  “Fuck me! NOOOooooo!” Giles retorted, choking as he swallowed some liquor back the wrong way.

  “Did anyone else?” Bill’s face was still intensely serious.

  “OMG!” Giles exclaimed in his best valley-girl accent. “What is it with everyone courting Arlene? I can’t take her anywhere without some old guy hitting on her!”

  “There have been oth—” Bill started saying, then interrupted himself. “Hey, less of the old! Else we’ll have to rethink this whole deal.”

  Giles chuckled. “Look, you go and make this happen, and I’ll make arrangements for us to get back to Mallifrax-8. And if it’ll hurry you up any, you should know that Arlene is there looking after a young girl . . . not her own, I might add . . . but this leaves her vulnerable. The sooner we get back, the better.”

  Bill was already up, bobbing his head like he understood. “So if I care a jot for Arlene, I’ll move my ass . . .”

  Giles clicked his fingers as he took another sip. “Exactly!”

  “Alice,” he muttered under his cup, shaking his head.

  Bill disappeared out of the door, this time with a certain spring in his step. Giles chose to believe it was because he had a deal in the mix, as that had always been Bill’s drug of choice.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ore Laboratories, Mining facility, Mallifrax-8

  Voyved wandered back out to the settlement with Anne in tow. “If Arlene the Terrible doesn’t know you’re out here, I’d make a point of getting home before her.”

  Anne scuffed her feet as she walked. “Yeah. You’re right. Last thing I want is her on my case about anything else.”

  Voyved looked up at the mountain side. “So you have to walk all the way back up there?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to this kind of thing.”

  His top eye snapped to her suddenly. “You mean evading your guardians?”

  Anne smiled. “Amongst other things,” she admitted.

  “Heh! I knew the second I laid eyes on you, you were a live one!”

  Anne giggled.

  “Sure you’re going to be ok?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. I just wanna have a wander around here before I climb back up . . . if that’s ok?”

  “Sure. You want company?”

  “No. You’ve already been too kind, and I realize I’ve taken you away from yo
ur work.”

  “No, no . . . it was a welcome break.” He turned back to look at the mine. “But if you’re sure you’re going to be ok, I’ll get back.”

  Again with the nervousness, she noticed. Maybe these guys were just really anxious about production?

  The unlikely pair said their goodbyes and left each other with a promise to see the other again soon. Voyved hurried back in the direction he’d come and Anne wandered back into the middle of the settlement.

  It looked smaller now, and less of a confusion of activity now she understood how it all worked.

  The docking area was still a mystery to her though. She found herself idly wandering over to it, as if she were a comet caught by the gravitational pull of a star.

  On her approach she could see many Queegerts in uniform. Some were loitering in groups, others bustling with crates with symbols on it.

  Something about it all felt off. Menacing even. And she couldn’t resist.

  Careful to stay hidden, she scooted around to the side of the structure and made her way closer, trying to figure out what was going on.

  If this were just a shuttle bay, it would be transporting people and ore back and forth. But there wasn’t any ore around. At least not now. Just lots of these crates . . . which seemed quite different from anything used in the mines. They were higher tech. Sleeker. And—

  Holy shit!

  She clamped her hand over her mouth and retreated back behind her column so as not to be seen. Catching her breath, she calmed her mind before cautiously peering back around to see if her eyes were deceiving her.

  Nope. Nope they weren’t. That crate was open, and that guard was definitely checking a blaster.

  It didn’t matter what world you were from, that kind of shit did damage. And she guessed if they had that many crates of the things, they planned to do a lot of damage.

  She felt the panic rising in her chest, threatening to reach her throat and strangle her with silent fingers. Her mind raced. Voyved was going to be in danger. She was in danger too if she got caught.

  What should she do? She didn’t have time to think. She needed to get out of there. If they saw her, there was no way they’d be letting her go. Not after she’d seen this.

  This can’t be normal day-to-day mining . . .

  Quietly and moving slow enough to not draw attention, she crept further into the shadows and back around the side of the building. She pressed herself hard against the wall, willing her brain to focus. But it was churning. And distracted. Like there was a huge machine kind of overriding her inner voice. She couldn’t hear herself think. Then she realized . . . it was a machine she could hear.

  Looking up, she saw an enormous mechanical robot thing, with arms and legs built several times the size of a man.

  It’s mining equipment. It’s mining equipment . . . she told herself, trying not to scream. It can’t see me. She cowered, her legs giving way underneath her. If I don’t move it won’t see me.

  Her heart was in her mouth. Her veins were flooded with adrenaline. She felt sick. As in fight or flight sick. Her cold, sweaty hands slipped in the grime against the metal wall she’d planted herself against. She thought she was going to pass out.

  The machine turned and raised an arm. A second later, something exploded further up the valley. Mining equipment or no, this thing was lethal.

  Anne scurried away from it and found herself behind one of the huts. The Queegerts in uniform were casually assembling outside the shuttle area, regarding the machine like a pet they’d trained.

  They’re behind this, she realized. They’re arming themselves . . . but for what? Against the miners? Why would they want to kill the miners? Unless, this was why Razeene and Voyved were nervous. What were they up to?

  The machine, now several yards away from her, turned again to face her direction.

  Anne’s heart leaped into her throat again, feeling its sensors scanning her very fabric and locking onto her. It hasn’t seen me. I’m overreacting, she told herself, willing her legs to move. They were like jelly.

  Almost as if between thoughts, somehow she was aware of herself moving from behind one hut to the next. And then the next, and the next . . . each time putting more and more distance between her and the docking bay.

  She looked up at the hillside. She’d be too exposed. They’d see her.

  And then what about her friends? She had to warn them . . .

  Aboard the Scamp Princess, Phoenix-Delta Outpost

  Giles had headed back to the ship, with Bill agreeing to follow just as soon as he’d managed to pack a bag.

  Giles collapsed into his pilot’s seat in the cockpit. “So,” he was explaining to Scamp, “we have the sales of the ore sorted, but now we need to replace the equipment or have a mining company buy the Gilmurry folks out.”

  Scamp’s image was on-screen to one side of Giles’s console. “I understand, but where are we going to find such a company?” he asked.

  Giles wracked his brains. “You know . . . Bill probably knows someone . . . but we don’t want both sides of this transaction controlled by the same party. Else we’re back where we started.” He scratched his head. “Any chance we can get hold of Oz and find out?”

  “Let me see if I can interface with him.”

  Scamp’s screen went blank. Giles shifted round in his chair, making sure the cockpit was presentable enough to have his old friend on board. He glanced around. Everything looked . . . normal.

  Scamp’s image returned. “Ok. I’ve made contact with Oz. He came up with the idea of reaching out to Dr. Brahms . . . one of the scientists Molly’s team rescued about a year ago. He thinks the company he works for might have the right profile for what we’re looking for. He’s going to track him down. I’m confident that by the time we get back to Mallifrax we’ll have that tied up in principle, at least.”

  Giles felt his insides relax. “That’s . . . great! Excellent work, both of you.”

  Scamp’s visual representation raised an eyebrow at him comically.

  Giles coughed, spluttering with unexpected laughter. “What? Was that patronizing?” he asked, embarrassed.

  “A little,” Scamp responded flatly. “But it’s ok. I know to you, we’re mere computers. Ones and zeros.”

  Giles leaned forward, nearly falling off his chair in his bumbling state. “Please, Scamp. No. You’re far more than that. I’m truly grateful for your help.” His mind whirred, wondering if this awareness was entirely . . . natural.

  Just then, there was a thump at the door, then a shuffle. “Only me!” came Bill’s voice. Moments later, he appeared in the cockpit. “I’ve just left my bag out there. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Yes of course,” Giles grunted, trying to get his thoughts in order.

  Bill continued, plonking himself into the chair next to him. “I’ve left Trixie here holding the fort. Not that she’ll be much use . . . but still—eyes and ears.” He fiddled with his collar and outer atmosjacket, rubbing at his cheek. “Damn, Lolita. I bet she’s put lipstick on me,” he gruffed. “Didn’t want to let me go…”

  Giles surveyed the atmosuit his friend wore. It was saggy in a few areas and worn in others. It also looked like it was a size too tight around his middle. He smiled. “Don’t get out much these days?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Nothing.”

  Bill was distracted by the harness. “How do you do up these things?”

  Giles rolled his eyes. “As I was saying . . . been a while since you got off the station perhaps?”

  Bill glared at him just as the Scamp Princess’s engines shuddered as they powered up. Giles carefully showed him how to adjust the harness and lock it down ready for takeoff. Moments later, the ship disconnected from the docking bay and edged backwards away from the station and back out into open space.

  Once they were free, Giles got up and went rummaging for some Yoll whiskey, figuring if Bill had had a few, he wouldn’t notice how qu
ickly they managed to get from one system to the other. Last thing he needed was someone as shrewd and connected as Bill finding out about the ship-bound Gate technology.

  Docking bay, surface of Mallifrax-8

  Arlene emerged from the shuttle and was ushered out of the dock briskly by random personnel. She wondered if the security people had issued a warning just to get her away from the operation.

  But then, something else had changed while she’d been on the ship. There was an air of efficiency. Tension. Perhaps, even apprehension. About what, she couldn’t fathom.

  She headed out of the docking area, noticing that there were no longer any signs of ore. Or miners. Just security personnel with blasters, self-organizing into troops and moving crates of equipment around.

  She kept walking, careful to not draw attention to herself or look too interested. Last thing she wanted was anyone stopping her from leaving. Especially after she’d just done some serious damage to their colleagues up there.

  Still, in the back of her mind she wondered what on Estaria could be happening for stopping her to not be a priority. It’s like they hadn’t even gotten a call from the board room . . . and she definitely left most of them alive.

  Approaching the settlement, her eyes scanned the hutted area, looking for signs of normality. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. No Queegerts anywhere.

  That’s when she turned her head to look down the valley away from the mines. There was an assembly of security personnel lined up in neat, tidy boxes of tin soldiers. And three enormous Mechs.

  War! she realized.

  The Mechs were lined up, pointing towards the mines, but for the moment, they seemed to be powered down. That meant they were still in preparation stages.

  She felt a presence behind her. Turning, she was relieved to see Razeene and Bokmom.

  “Hey boys—what’s going on?” she asked. “You’re not stirring up—”

  She didn’t get to accuse them of picking a fight they could never win. Before the words left her lips, Bokmom produced an electrical cattle prod and stunned her. Hard.