Mapped Space 1: The Antaran Codex

by Stephen Renneberg

  The blood trace reeked of Mataron DNA!

  I’d recognized the reptilian form and the assassin’s quantum blade, but machines can be built to take any form. This tiny blood trace proved there was a Mataron on Icetop, who’d butchered Sarat and his men and stolen the alien-tech device that had delivered the Codex into human hands. I knew now the Matarons wanted us to have the Codex, but without anyone knowing they gave it to us – only they hadn’t counted on Sarat’s greed. He’d sabotaged their plan by scanning their transport device, forcing them to expose themselves. There must have been something in that scan linking the Matarons to the Codex.

  Or maybe they feared the scans would be enough for the Tau Cetins to smell a rat, a reptilian rat. The Matarons didn’t fear much, but they feared the Tau Cetins. Our reptilian enemy was seven hundred thousand years ahead of us, but the TCs were millions of years ahead of them. That kind of inferiority left the Matarons with no way of knowing what TC technology could do, and not knowing made them paranoid.

  Ever since human fanatics had landed on Kif-atah, the Mataron homeworld, and detonated their ship’s energy core in 3154, we’d faced an implacable enemy who would accept no apology, consider no reparation. The human fanatics, opposed to alien contact, had chosen well. They gave the militaristic and highly xenophobic Matarons someone to focus their hatred upon, someone who could never hope to match them militarily, yet whom the Forum would never allow them to harm. They’d tried to destroy Earth after the terrorist attack, only to be humiliated when their fleet had been disabled at the edge of the Solar System by a single Tau Ceti ship sent to find out what all the fuss was about.

  Months of Forum level discussions had followed, resulting in Earth’s stockpiles of novarium – the element needed to generate the immense quantities of energy required for interstellar travel – being rendered inert by the Tau Cetins. Every human ship in Mapped Space had suffered the same fate. Even now, almost fifteen hundred years later, we still didn’t know how they’d done it.

  At the time, hardly anyone on Earth even knew what was happening until a TC ambassador explained it to us. It didn’t matter that the rest of mankind condemned the terrorist attack and executed everyone associated with it in the most uncompromising retribution ever seen in human history – in the eyes of the galaxy we were responsible. It was the first, most basic principle of the Access Treaty, the Responsibility Principle. Our collective-governments were responsible for the actions of all our people, no matter how crazy, and we’d failed to take that responsibility seriously.

  One tiny group of crazies had ruined it for the rest of us.

  For the next ten centuries, the Forum imposed Embargo prevented novarium from entering human hands, giving us time to sort out how we governed ourselves and stranding mankind in the Solar System and on the colonies and outposts we’d taken centuries to establish. Many outposts survived, although some withered on the vine with frightening consequences for the last survivors.

  That’s what happens when you break the Access Treaty. They don’t exterminate you, they isolate you – it’s more civilized than genocide.

  When the Embargo ended a thousand years later – much to the ire of the Matarons who’d sworn never to let us back out – the TCs arrived with a new supply of novarium and we started a second five hundred year road to Forum membership, only this time, if we screwed up the resulting Embargo would be ten times longer. It was why the Earth Navy and the EIS had been founded, to make sure we didn’t get it wrong a second time. It was a tough job, made more difficult by the Matarons constantly plotting against us.

  The Mataron hatred of mankind was fueled by the exponential growth of Human Civilization. While the Matarons had the technology to traverse the galaxy, their innate xenophobia had limited them largely to their own system and a few tiny outposts, whereas human willingness to be locked inside flimsy ships for months or years on end had seen mankind spread to the limits of Mapped Space at a speed that utterly infuriated the vengeful Matarons. Even the Tau Cetins were surprised at how quickly we’d expanded. They’d thought it would take us five thousand years – we did it in less than five hundred. The difference was the Tau Cetins didn’t care how far we went, or what we did, providing we obeyed the law.

  Fortunately, the law was just and the Tau Cetins argued that the Mataron protests lacked any factual basis, and so were dismissed. The fact the Matarons had remained neutral during the Intruder War, refusing to help the other Local Powers even when they were fighting for their very lives, had left the Mataron Supremacy with few genuine friends. Of course if we screwed up again, the TCs would have no choice but to side with the Matarons because Observer Civilizations had a duty to impartially interpret and, when necessary, enforce galactic law.

  Considering how badly the Matarons wanted us back in the bottle, I wondered why they’d go to so much trouble to give us exactly what we desired most, the ability to explore and colonize as far as we wanted without restriction. We lacked the technology to even get out of the relatively small, ten thousand light year long Orion Arm, let alone cross the vast Milky Way or reach other galaxies, yet the mere promise of such freedom was always going to be irresistible to mankind.

  It was that allure that made the Antaran Codex bait, but for what kind of trap? Whatever it was, the Matarons were actively fabricating an Access Treaty violation, and we’d walked right into it.

  The realization chilled me more than the freezing winds wiping away the last trace of Mataron DNA from the slick black rock. I was filled with a desire to destroy the Codex, but as it was virtually indestructible, that would be impossible. I considered handing it over to the Tau Cetins, but would possessing it be enough to trigger an Access Treaty violation?

  I crawled back into the lounge, then hurried towards my quarters while my mind raced through endless possibilities. The lights were still out, but there was enough light reflecting in from the lounge area to let me see by threaded optics alone.

  The door to my quarters was ajar. Inside, Jase and Marie lay unconscious on the floor. My threading told me they were stunned, not dead, their weapons lying close to them. One look at the dresser told me the Codex was gone!

  In a blur of rage, I was sure Vargis had stunned them both and stolen the Codex while I’d been distracted by the Mataron agent. I tried shaking Jase awake, then I heard footsteps in the corridor. A man appeared in the doorway, flashing a small hand light in my face, momentarily blinding me, but my threading told me it was Vargis.

  I leapt at him, dragging him into the room and jamming my empty P-50 in his face. “Where is it?” I yelled, knowing this was no longer just about a piece of alien technology, but about mankind’s destiny as an interstellar civilization.

  He tried to wrestle me off, swinging the light at my head like a club, but I blocked it and hit him in the face with the butt of my gun, knocking him to the ground.

  “What did you do with it?” I yelled.

  “What are you talking about?” Vargis demanded as a trickle of blood ran from his forehead.

  “The Codex!” I yelled. “Where is it?”

  “It wasn’t him,” Marie said groggily as she tried to throw off the stun effect.

  “He’s got it! I know he has!” I yelled, ready to beat him senseless with my bare hands. Vargis was the sleezeball who’d tried to cut me out of this deal from the beginning. He represented the big money, the people who stood to make the most from the Codex. I knew he’d do anything to get it.

  “No,” She held her head as she sat up slowly. “It was Bo.”

  Bo? How could it be congenial, unassuming, intelligent Bo, who’d not blown my cover when he’d had the chance? I actually liked him, even his Confucian quotes. It couldn’t be Bo.

  “It’s true,” she said. “Bo stunned me. He’s got the Codex.”

  Vargis pushed me away angrily, adjusting his clothes. “You let an insignificant, paper shuffling lawyer steal the Codex out from under your nose! You’re a bigger fool than I thought!”

>   Jase stirred, wincing as he rubbed his head. “What hit me?”

  “The shuttle’s the only way off this rock,” I said, “and it’s grounded.” I released Vargis and ran back out through the lounge area to the elevator. To my relief, it was still working. By the time the door opened, Jase staggered out to join me.

  “Sorry Skipper,” he said on the way down. “He must have been in your quarters when I came back. I never even saw him.”

  We took the elevator down to the hanger.

  “Sarat’s dead,” I said after the doors closed.

  Jase gave me a surprised look. “Did you do it?”

  “No, it was the Mataron.”

  Jase nodded grimly. “Saved me the trouble.”

  When the doors opened, we started towards the office as the elevator began climbing back up to the penthouse. The rectangular storm shutters were down, sealing off the hanger, but the shuttle was visible through a window in one of the door segments, still securely anchored to the landing platform outside.

  We found Bo lounging in a chair in front of the duty officer’s table. He looked up, surprised to find my P-50 aimed at his head.

  “Where’s the Codex?” I demanded, sensing from the confusion on his face that something was wrong, something I didn’t understand.

  “You don’t have it?” Bo asked. He had nothing with him which he could use to hide the Codex and he obviously had no idea what I was talking about.

  “No! It’s gone,” I said.

  Realization appeared on his face. “Stolen?”

  Oh no! I thought, beginning to suspect what had happened. “You didn’t take it?”

  “No.” Bo glanced at the duty officer. “How long have I been here?”

  “Since the shift change,” the duty officer said, eyeing my gun warily. “We’ve been studying weather patterns, figuring out when the shuttle can fly.”

  An alarm began beeping from the airspace console beside the duty officer. He turned towards it with growing unease.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Some fool’s coming in to land!”

  “Is it the same vehicle as before?”

  The duty officer gave me a puzzled look. “As before?”

  “There was a vehicle hovering outside the penthouse windows. Fifteen minutes ago!”

  “No sir,” the duty officer replied, motioning to the airspace display. “There ain’t been nothing out there since the storm hit – until now.”

  “It was bigger than your shuttle. You couldn’t miss it from the landing platform.”

  The duty officer scowled. “No one goes out there in this wind! Not unless they want to go swimming!” He activated his communicator. “Dragon Base Three to incoming aircraft, identify yourself.” When there was no response, he said. “I don’t care who you are, the pad is closed. Do not attempt to land. Acknowledge.”

  He waited, but the approaching craft continued to ignore his hail.

  “What type is it?” I asked, craning my neck to see his display, now showing a contact marker approaching the spire.

  The duty officer shrugged. “Don’t know, but its trajectory’s sub-orbital.” He leaned towards his display, eyes widening. “Damn fool! He ain’t going for the pad! He’s landing on top.”

  “Of the spire?” I asked. “At the lookout?”

  “He’s going to kill himself!” the duty officer declared, shaking his head in disbelief.

  The airspace display showed high, but constant winds. A good pilot with the right machine could land there. Apart from me, there was one other flyer on Icetop who could do it. “It’s Ugo! Has to be!”

  Jase gave me a stunned look. “Gadron Ugo?”

  “Come on!”

  We raced back to the elevator. The indicator showed it was up at the lookout. I called it down, counting the seconds.

  “Ugo’s on the other side of the planet, Skipper,” Jase said, scarcely able to believe what I was thinking.

  “He’s up there,” I said, glancing skywards, “Right now! About to land!”

  When the doors opened, we stepped inside finding a sprinkling of snow scattered across the floor.

  “If Ugo’s here Skipper, that means . . .” Jase said warily as the elevator carried us up through the spire.

  “Yeah,” I said dismally.

  The lift doors opened, blasting Jase and I with freezing winds so powerful we had to grab the safety rails to prevent being blown off our feet. Embedded in the rock outside the elevator entrance was a grappling harpoon, fired from an off-white cargo lighter hovering fifteen meters away, nosing into the wind. Its side cargo door was open and a cable ran from the lighter’s interior to the harpoon embedded in the rock. Marie stood just below the small cargo transport, wearing a harness attached to the cable that prevented her from being blown off the spire. She carried the Codex in one hand and reached up with the other to one of the Heureux’s crewmen who stood tethered inside the lighter’s cargo door.

  “She’s got it!” I said, scarcely able to believe she’d pull a stunt like this, after the night we’d just shared.

  “Damn! She stunned me! In the back!” Jase shook his head in disbelief, then took a step towards the door to go after her.

  I pushed him back. “No!” I yelled over the screaming winds. “You’ll get blown off!”

  The Heureux’s crewman hauled Marie up into the lighter and quickly snapped a safety line onto her belt before freeing her from the harpoon’s cable.

  She turned back towards the lift, giving me a smile and yelled, “I’m sorry my love, it’s just business!”

  “Marie!” I yelled over the screaming wind, “Come back! You don’t understand!”

  She blew me a kiss with her hand, then stepped inside. A moment later, the cable whipped free of the lighter and the hatch closed.

  Looking down at us through the lighter’s cockpit window, a big, bald man sat grinning as he expertly wrestled the controls. Gadron Ugo was Marie’s pilot-navigator. He’d served her father for more than twenty years and now that she’d inherited the Heureux, he was her pilot too. Ugo mocked me with a salute, then the stubby winged transport nosed up as he fed power to the engines. It climbed on a tail of white light, picking up speed quickly before vanishing into the low clouds racing above us.

  “Oh man,” Jase said, “I knew we couldn’t trust her!”

  “She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into!” I said, certain Marie thought she was still playing our competitive little game and this was just a chance to go one up on me.

  Jase’s eyes widened, adding in an even more astonished tone, “I can’t believe she stole it from you!”

  “Yeah, she’s a piece of work all right!” And she’s in danger!

  “What are we going do now?” Jase asked miserably, thinking he’d lost his share of the commission.

  “The only thing we can do,” I said as snow swirled around our legs. “Go after her and get it back!”

  * * * *

  There was no UniPol station in the Dragon’s Teeth island chain, only fishing company executives and support staff, none of whom wanted to take responsibility for investigating the slaughter that had taken place in Sarat’s penthouse. The tiny UniPol unit operating out of Tundratown agreed to send an investigator on the next shuttle, but all they’d find would be corpses mutilated by shrapnel and knife wounds. The bodies would be frozen until the naval liaison officer made his regular visit in a few months, but he’d have no more success in discovering what had happened than UniPol.

  To avoid waiting for the local investigator, Jase and I assured the maintenance base manager we saw nothing, then caught the first shuttle out, along with Vargis and Bo. Before leaving, we all promised to visit the UniPol headquarters in Tundratown for questioning, although none of us had any intention of talking to the law. As expected the Heureux was long gone by the time we landed at the spaceport, giving Marie almost a day’s head start. Outside the shuttle, a skimmer was waiting to carry Vargis across the landing ground
to the Soberano, which was already warming up its engines. He climbed aboard the small ground vehicle without a word and raced away.

  “Sore loser!” Jase muttered as he started towards the Lining to prep her for launch.

  I shook hands with Bo at the foot of the stairs wheeled up against the shuttle. Even though he’d lost the auction and seen the business end of my P-50, he remained remarkably courteous.

  “You’re going after her?” Bo asked as we shook hands.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Before you embark on a journey of revenge,” Bo said, dipping into his endless supply of Confucian quotes, “dig two graves.”

  “I’m not after revenge Bo, just what’s rightfully mine.” He didn’t realize I was as worried about Marie’s safety as I was about the alien-tech device she’d stolen from me.

  Bo gave me a knowing look. “Rightful ownership is open to interpretation, Captain Kade, considering you . . . modified the rules in order to win.”

  Damn, he knew! “I evened the odds.”

  Bo nodded appreciatively. “I don’t know how you did it, but cheating was the only way you could win. You would never have beaten Vargis otherwise – none of us could.”

  “If you thought Vargis had so much money, why bother coming?”

  “I didn’t know Senor Vargis was going to win until after I arrived.”

  I gave Bo a curious look. “What do you mean?”

  Bo raised his hand to his left eye, peeled back his eyelid and popped his eye into his palm, leaving his eye socket empty. He held up the prosthetic eye for me to see. “Why do you think I went last in the first round? It was so I could see your bids with this, and out bid you all. Then I would have had the commanding position of always bidding last and of always knowing what you bid.”

  I glanced at his cybernetic spying eye, puzzled. “But you lost the first round!”

  “Yes, even though my bid was the highest.” he said, waiting for the implications to sink in.