“How do you know?” Lorient called across. “You’ve not been in there.”
“I’m a Psi-1, Director Lorient. Doctor Govan will be out in a minute to confirm what I said.”
It was slightly less than a minute before Anna emerged.
“Danny needs a lot of rest, but he’s recovering from the reaction now. He’s stable and you can go in and see him. After you’ve visited, we’ll transfer him to intensive care and keep an eye on him until he’s back to normal.”
Anna looked at Ben as the Lorients walked past her. *That was a close call.*
*Is he really okay?* Ben asked.
*As much as he’ll ever be. Danny will always be fragile, but we’ll do our best for him. He seems like a good kid.*
Chapter Fifteen
DISCOVERIES
Ben sat alone at a table in the food hall and pushed the remains of his rations around the can with a spoon. He’d come in early to avoid the Lorients and any potential social unease. Truth to tell, he didn’t feel very sociable tonight. He was dog-tired and more than ready to roll into his bunk. It had been a long day spent mostly in Broccoliburg.
He yawned and then realized he’d done it very visibly. A knot of young med-techs clattered through the door for their evening meal and paused in their chatter as they saw him already seated. Oh, well. He was allowed to be human once in a while, even though he was the commander and therefore as close to omniscient as it was possible for a human to be . . . at least as far as some of the younger members of the crew were concerned.
Ha! Omniscient! That was a laugh. If only they knew. He was barely half a step ahead of them most of the time.
Some of Serafin’s engineers joined the med-techs in the lineup and tables began to fill up. Time to go before he got trapped into being polite to some well-meaning rookies on their first mission.
Wenna came in and plowed through the throng of med-techs purposefully, heading straight for him. “Boss, can I have a word with you?”
He wanted to tell her to bug off, that he was going to get eight hours straight sleep, but instead he pushed the ration can away and smiled. “Sure, Wenna, now?”
“Not here. Finish your meal, but soon would be good.”
He sighed and got up from the table. “I’ve had enough.” He followed her across the compound and through the cavernous body of the LV where walls had been erected to turn it into a suite of offices, smaller rooms around a duty room where all the teams logged their daily finds into the matrix.
Rather than engaging the main holographic screen, Wenna pointed Ben to her own terminal.
“What’s up?”
“I thought you might want to see this.” Wenna engaged the main matrix and stepped back.
“What is it?” Ben sat in front of the flexi-screen and started to scroll through.
“I almost missed it. I was just archiving the first month’s scans. I crosschecked it with the download from Gen’s survey scanner from the day she was blown off course by the storm. Look.”
Ben checked the data and checked again. He could feel a cold knot in his belly as the last thoughts of sleep evaporated. He checked again, but there was no doubt.
“Ah, fuck!” He pushed his chair back and looked up. “Platinum.”
Wenna nodded. “Significant deposits.”
“Has this gone in the upload?”
“The raw data has already been sent to Chenon. It’s fairly well buried . . . I doubt anyone will spot it immediately . . . It was pure chance that Gen left her scanner running during the storm.”
“But it’s on file, sitting there for anyone to stumble across. If this leaks out . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “Who else have you told?”
“No one. What do you take me for?”
“Sorry. I should have known better. This isn’t something you’re likely to sound off about. What about Gen?”
“Didn’t process the information herself. Since she was busy running ahead of the storm, I doubt she even glanced at her scanner.”
“Good.”
“There’s enough here to make us all rich.” Wenna sighed. “Don’t worry, Boss. I know that’s not going to happen.”
“There’s enough to get us all killed, settlers included. How long do you think Olyanda’s closed-planet status will hold if anyone outside gets wind of this before we can get the settlers some protection?”
“About as long as it takes for a black-ops fleet to mobilize its big guns. It’ll be Hera-3 all over again.” She shuddered and massaged her shoulder with her good hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I’d like to wave a magic wand and pretend it’s not there, but I don’t think that’s an option. It’s the settlers’ planet, their decision, which means it’s Victor Lorient’s decision. This couldn’t come at a worse time. Maybe I’ll leave it a day or two before telling him—ack, no—best to tell him before we unload any more personnel from the ark. He should seriously consider transferring the whole colony to another planet. That’s what I’d do if I were in charge—negotiate a settlement, let the Trust have the platinum, and buy a nice, shiny, new A-list planet with the profits. He’s got another thirty thousand settlers in transit on the second ark. We can divert them before they reach Olyanda.”
“What about the rest of the settlers? There would be a hell of a stink if they found out they’d been robbed of billions of credits worth of platinum.”
“Platinum is just numbers. It’s like finding you’ve won the lottery and then discovering each individual credit chip is impregnated with poison. Finding platinum is everyone’s dream and it almost always turns into a nightmare. If you find it, you have to be strong enough to keep it . . . and a bunch of settlers will never be able to stand up against the galaxy’s big guns. They might—if Victor Lorient is canny—be able to sell it before someone steals it from them. We should give them that opportunity . . . Keep it under wraps for now. I’ll talk to Lorient.”
He rubbed his forehead again, aware of an incipient headache. “There’s our team to worry about, too. We’ve got good people, but there are three hundred of them and I can’t guarantee every single one, especially the rookies who haven’t seen what pirates can do. Make sure you keep this completely under wraps until I’ve spoken to Lorient. Tell no one.”
“Not even Cara?”
“No one.”
Ben wanted to say, especially Cara. Her shadowed past suddenly seemed far too close. He pushed that thought away. He’d shared minds with her and found no deceit there, but she was an exceptional Psi-1 and his telepathy skills were next to nothing. Even if she hadn’t lied directly, Cara could have misled him.
• • •
Victor Lorient saw Benjamin from a distance across the compound and increased his pace to avoid him, but it was no good. The man was between him and the hospital and bearing down remorselessly in his direction. He felt nothing but embarrassment about yesterday. He’d lost it completely—not something a director should do, though Rena had tried to tell him that he had a good excuse for acting like a parent, not like a director.
Benjamin didn’t mention anything, but Lorient knew what he was thinking. Nine, fifty-seven, four hundred and thirty-three. After a polite inquiry about Rena—fine, thank you—and Danny—doing much better, thank you—Benjamin finally spat out what he’d come to say.
“Director, I wonder if I can have a private word with you on a matter of extreme importance.”
“About Danny?”
“No, not at all.”
Lorient let himself breathe again. “That sounds pretty serious.”
Ben fell into step with Lorient and turned toward the riverbank. “Let’s go this way, where no one can overhear.”
Victor nodded. Two, sixteen, eight hundred and thirty-seven.
“We’ve found deposits of platinum in the upland area of Olyanda, large deposits.”
Lorient drew his brows together, still counting in his head. “That’s serious?”
Ben hesitated. “It’s serio
us enough for me to advise you officially that Olyanda has just become a dangerous place. We’ve got to get your settlers out of here while we still can.”
“You’re making no sense.” Another cryo journey? Victor thought of Danny’s pale face, so near to death. No way would he take his son off this planet. They were here and here they would stay.
Benjamin kept his voice low. “Platinum is currently the single most valuable commodity in the known universe. Without it, the jump gates can’t function, but unfortunately they consume it—literally. It’s a superconductor, a catalyst. With each jump a small but significant amount of it disappears into the Folds and the scientists have never been able to work out a way of recovering it. One day they will and platinum will go back to being a useful commercial material, but until then we’re constantly having to find more in order to keep the whole jump gate system running.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Benjamin. Platinum yada yada. Valuable yada yada. Platinum occurs throughout the universe, doesn’t it? It’s a rare planet that doesn’t have platinum.”
“Yes, but usually in minute quantities, difficult or expensive to recover. That means any commercially viable platinum find will immediately attract attention. Unless it’s well protected, it will attract very unwelcome attention from nasty people with big guns.”
“Surely any platinum we find belongs to us, doesn’t it? We have a contract for the planet. Filed in Geneva.”
“Technically.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“How well do you know your history? Do you remember the oil wars on Earth in the late twenty-first century?”
Lorient shrugged. He hadn’t been a history major, but the oil wars had been a turning point for Earth. The Middle East in turmoil; Alaska declaring independence; the USA invading Canada and Mexico. Millions dying. Rogue traders getting rich off the profits before the collapse. When it finally ended, mankind had turned itself around, vowing never to repeat the mistakes of the past.
“How is that relevant?”
“Platinum attracts that level of attention, galaxy-wide. You could find Olyanda invaded and your settlers wiped out from the air.”
“What? This is a peaceful colony, Commander Benjamin!”
“Just because you designate your colony as peaceful doesn’t stop people who aren’t peaceful from dropping by unexpectedly.” Benjamin raised his voice, then dropped it again. “You know about Hera-3?”
“A failed colony. It was in your files.”
“Not a failed colony. It was destroyed. I commanded the psi-tech crew for the Hera-3 colony, an agricultural settlement with a two-year initial setup program. It wasn’t designed to be a closed world like this one, but rather a garden satellite for the domed cities on the more industrial Hera-5. They’re both moons of a gas giant in the Cronus System. We took ten thousand farmers and heavy machinery to clear wide tracts of land. Three months into our term we found platinum. The colonists were overjoyed. There was huge excitement and much celebrating. The colony’s council immediately informed the government on Hera-5 and started planning how to spend the profits.
“The Trust made Hera-5 an offer for the mining concession. Alphacorp came in with a counteroffer and a bidding war started. In the meantime Hera-3’s own council started to mine and stockpile ore themselves. The raw ore is harmless even though the strip mines deplete a lot of land, but processing the ore for use in the jump gates is truly toxic. Hera-3 declared independence from Hera-5 and tried to open a bidding war, cutting out both Alphacorp and the Trust.
“About five days later a black-ops fleet hit us from the air. We had no warning at all. It was . . . grim. We saved fifteen hundred out of six thousand settlers, and that was mostly due to luck.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do see. I have no concrete proof, but that black-ops fleet was too big and too well-equipped to be ragtag pirates or mercenaries. It was a solid, precision operation and whoever was in charge was well-informed.”
“You think it was one of the megacorps?”
“What I’m saying is, you can’t trust anyone once the news gets out.”
So the news hadn’t got out yet. Victor latched onto that. “And will it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Get out. Who knows about this?”
“So far only you, me, and Wenna Phipps, but the data is in the archive, already on its way back to Chenon, and once it gets there, it’s available to anyone who wants to examine it. At any time someone could stumble on it and put two and two together.”
“So what do you suggest? You want us to run home with our tails between our legs? We’ve come too far, worked too hard for that.” And I’m not putting Danny back into cryo for all the platinum in the universe. Thirty, eighteen, five hundred and forty-nine. “We’ve all put everything we had into this colony. The planet’s not much, but it’s the best we could afford.”
“If we do this right, you’ll be better off. Crowder can negotiate for you. You could trade Olyanda for another planet, one without an electromagnetic problem and with a better climate, and still have some credits left over for creature comforts. We’d need to do it quickly. Most of your settlers are still in cryo, so we could easily move them to a new world.”
And Danny would die in transit. Three, forty, one hundred and eleven.
Benjamin sounded too eager. What was in it for him? “You’d get a cut of the settlement figure, no doubt.”
“What? No. I hadn’t thought . . .” Benjamin sounded surprised. Victor gave him credit for his acting ability. Fifteen, ninety-seven, four hundred.
Benjamin frowned. “I’m more concerned with getting everyone clear of Olyanda before something loud and dangerous falls out of the sky. I lost all but fifty-seven of my team on Hera-3, Director Lorient. I don’t care about the platinum. I’d rather we hadn’t found it at all.”
Victor found something to latch onto. “What if we hadn’t?”
“We have.” Benjamin spread his hands wide.
“Can’t we hide it? You said no one knows about it except you, me, and your Ms. Phipps. Can you recall the archive information, or cover it up?”
“Only via Crowder.”
“And is that possible?”
Benjamin stopped and took a deep breath. “I’d trust Crowder with my life. He’s the one person I know is straight.”
“And your Ms. Phipps?”
“Lost an arm at Hera-3. You don’t have to worry about Wenna.”
“Do I have to worry about you?”
Benjamin shook his head. “If you tell me to sit on this news, I’ll sit on it, but I think you’re wrong. The platinum find is important. It’s vital for the jump gates. Without them, hundreds of colony worlds are cut off.”
Victor didn’t care about the jump gates. “Once the psi-techs left, they had an agreement that Olyanda would become a closed planet. Once that happened, no one could get at them, platinum or no.”
“Let the Trust have it,” Benjamin said. “Reap the benefits, eliminate the risk. What’s so special about Olyanda? Won’t any planet do?”
“No, Commander. We’re here and this is where we’re staying. I’m not moving my family, my colony. Not for anything.”
And that was final!
• • •
The shuttle settled safely in the ark’s number two bay, and Ben waited for the air lock to cycle. For the hundredth time he questioned the sanity of doing what Lorient wanted. He should just start negotiating with Crowder, get a deal for the settlers, and ride roughshod over Lorient, but, dammit, there was no guarantee that would protect the colony either. Better get it over with. With a nod to his pilot, he stepped out of the door to find Captain Grant waiting for him.
“Wenna Phipps said to keep this small, Commander Benjamin, so I’ve dealt with it myself. Molloy is waiting for you in sick bay with Dr. Golding.” He didn’t ask Ben for any details and Ben didn’t volunteer any.
In sick bay Ben shook hands with the d
octor, a fresh-faced young man probably barely out of med school, and with Molloy, the ship’s Psi-1.
He drew up a chair. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but I need an urgent communication and it must be private—totally private—Mr. Molloy. Please don’t take it the wrong way, but even you mustn’t know.”
Molloy’s face was pale, whether from the many years in deep-range space vessels or whether from the prospect of what Ben suggested was difficult to tell. “You want me to get a neural block after the communication?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to ask. Dr. Golding, is that something you can do safely?”
“Safely, yes, but it won’t be pleasant for Mr. Molloy.”
“I know. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“What about your Telepath down there?” Molloy asked.
“It’s got to be more than private.”
Molloy nodded. “If it’s so important, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.”
Golding got Molloy to stretch out on an examination table and then strapped him to it with wide, padded restraints.
“Comfortable?”
“What do you think?”
Then he turned Molloy’s arm over and inserted a cannula, hooked a drip into it, and inserted a hollow needle into the base of the feed tube. He connected a small vial to the extra needle and held out a controller to Ben. “As soon as you’ve finished, start the sedative. He’ll be out in less than a second, and I’ll do the block immediately after that.”
“And you’re sure he’ll remember nothing after that.”
“Only that he’s lost a very small chunk of memory, but he won’t have any recollection of your communication.”
“Thanks, Dr. Golding.” Ben drew a chair next to Molloy’s couch. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Molloy.”
*Who to?* Molloy’s touch was as strong as Cara’s, but a little coarser.
*Gabrius Crowder on Chenon.*
Molloy connected with Ben’s implant.
Empire of Dust Page 21
