The Falken Chronicles

by Piers Platt

  The investor signed off, and his vidscreen went dark. Damn it. Lost another one.

  “Have there been any losses of capital?” another investor asked.

  “I wouldn’t say ‘losses,’ ” Cadellium said. “But some bumps are to be expected along the road. This is a high-risk market. Small companies fail. But those that succeed more than make up for those that do not.”

  “So there have been losses?” the investor pressed.

  “Yes, some,” Cadellium confirmed, keeping his voice even. “But I’m very excited about our latest venture. This company has tremendous upside potential.”

  “What is their specialty?”

  “I’m afraid I have to keep that a secret for now,” Cadellium said. “But the drug in question would be a bona fide blockbuster, with trillions of dollars in sales. Every person on this call would request a prescription, and pay handsomely for the privilege.”

  “How long until the drug is on shelves?”

  “Six to eight months,” Cadellium lied. “They’re filing to begin clinical trials as we speak.”

  “We’re putting you on notice,” the investor said. “You have six months to deliver a win, and then we’ll be redeeming our funds as well.”

  “Understood,” Cadellium said. “I appreciate your patience. You won’t regret it.”

  The screens flickered off, one by one. When they were all dark, Cadellium waited a beat, and then swore. Fucking investors. “Doubling down on bad bets,” eh? We’ll see. In six weeks, when they see what we’ve acquired, they’ll be begging me to get back into the fund.

  Cadellium strode out of the conference room of the Starfarer and caught sight of the ship’s captain, standing at a set of interior windows overlooking the cargo bay. He walked over, and stood next to the young man, who wore a nondescript blue merchant mariner’s uniform. Through the window, Cadellium was surprised to see uniformed personnel searching the hold, under the watchful gaze of a female officer with short, curly red hair.

  “Who are they?” Cadellium asked, nervously.

  “Colonial Guard,” Captain Auresh replied.

  “Well, what are they doing here on the Starfarer?” Cadellium asked.

  “Routine contraband check.” Auresh checked his wristpad, flipping through several screens. “Word is Commander Jiyake sees herself as the sheriff of this station. Apparently she’s a stickler for protocol, and personally checks every new ship that docks here. That’s her down there, the redhead.”

  “Shouldn’t you be down there yourself, making sure …?” Cadellium asked.

  “‘Making sure’ what?” the captain replied, turning to face him. “We have nothing illegal on board.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well,” Auresh hedged. “Nothing they’re gonna find in the cargo bay, at least. And their hull scanners aren’t good enough to pick up on our … upgrades.”

  “What about the cages?” Cadellium asked, indicating a pair of reinforced steel holding pens that dominated the cargo bay floor.

  “Unusual, but not illegal,” Auresh said. “Listen, it’s a standard customs inspection, and captains usually delegate that type of thing to the crew. If I go down there, Jiyake gets suspicious, guaranteed.”

  Cadellium frowned, but stayed silent. Auresh finished reviewing a fuel invoice on his wrist pad and shut it down.

  “When is the Liberty Belle due back here?” Cadellium asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Auresh replied.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Auresh said. “They publish their flight schedule, and rarely deviate from it. They’re at Olympus now.”

  “And then?” Cadellium asked.

  “Then they’re scheduled to remain here for the next three days,” Auresh said. “But their schedule will change.”

  “You’re sure you want to … make your move … out in space?”

  “Definitely,” Auresh said. “If we try to move on them before they leave the station, and something goes wrong, the entire station sees it.” He indicated Commander Jiyake with his chin. “She’ll see it. And you can bet she’ll interfere. Out in space, it’s just us and them.”

  “What if they get off a distress call?” Cadellium asked. “The Colonial Guard has a ship here, no?”

  “Mm,” Auresh grunted. “Jiyake commands the CGS Extremis. Cutter-class patrol vessel. Small ship, as Guard ships go, but fast and well-armed. More than a match for the Starfarer, if it came to it.” Auresh crossed his arms. “We’ll be jamming the Liberty Belle’s communications, but I’m a careful man. I’ve taken steps to ensure the Extremis stays on the sidelines throughout the operation. Remember that cash advance I requested?”

  “You bribed someone?” Cadellium guessed.

  “No,” Auresh said. “Bribes are a lousy incentive. Once you pay, how do you ensure they stay quiet?”

  “So what then?”

  “Blackmail,” Auresh said, grinning.

  Cadellium raised an eyebrow, then waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know want to know the details.”

  “Okay,” Auresh said, shrugging. “But I guarantee the Extremis won’t be a problem for us.”

  “I’m still worried about the research center,” Cadellium said. “If they get wind of what we’re planning, it could be disastrous.”

  “They can’t keep us out forever,” Auresh said. “There are too many entrances to that facility. My men can get us past any barricades they manage to rig.”

  “They don’t need to keep us out indefinitely,” Cadellium said. “Just long enough to delete their files. Or worse, publish them.”

  “That’s why I’m positioning an asset inside the facility ahead of time,” Auresh said. “We’ll control it before we even touch down.”

  “Where’s that asset now?” Cadellium asked.

  “Right now?” Auresh checked his wristpad. “Somewhere over Olympus.”

  “Will the research center have specimens that we can take?”

  “I haven’t been able to confirm,” Auresh admitted. “But my guess is yes. Perhaps not a mating pair, but at least one we can take.”

  “The capture process seems risky,” Cadellium commented.

  “We’ve rehearsed it. That’s not a substitute for actual, hands-on experience, but the researchers do have that experience, and they’ll be helping out.”

  “You think the researchers will help?” Cadellium asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I know they’ll help. They won’t have a choice.” Auresh watched as the activity below began wrapping up, the Colonial Guard inspectors filing out and down the ship’s large boarding ramp. Commander Jiyake stood on the ramp for a moment, signing a datapad before slipping it into a holster on her belt. Then she gave the two large cages a final glance, before following her crew off the ship.

  “See?” Auresh said, when Jiyake had disappeared. “Trust me. This isn’t my first op.”

  “I make it a policy never to trust my partners, not with so much money on the line,” Cadellium warned the younger man. “Trust leads to dependence.”

  Auresh snorted. “Have you got a ship of your own, and a crew crazy enough to take on this level of risk? No. So I’d say you’re pretty damn dependent on us, like it or not.”

  “I’m still not going to trust you,” Cadellium said.

  “Well, the feeling’s mutual then,” Auresh said.

  Cadellium eyed the captain for a moment, and then turned and disappeared down the ship’s corridor toward his quarters.

  Chapter 4

  Through the portholes in the lounge, Falken saw the armored hull of the Liberty Belle sliding away, gaining speed as the ship’s maneuvering thrusters fired sporadically. The bulky resupply ship was always a welcome sight – in addition to bringing them fresh food, it also served as a shuttle for passengers visiting the Ecolympus, ferrying guests to and from the ship.

  And speaking of guests …

  Seated around the great stone table in the lounge were five fresh faces: four men,
and one woman. Falken smiled at them again.

  “Just a second more,” he said.

  Greban breezed through the door from the galley a moment later, bearing a tray with coffee and hot donuts, sprinkled in cinnamon sugar.

  “Okay, now we can give you a proper welcome!” Greban announced, smiling. “Now that you’ve settled into your rooms and freshened up a bit. Welcome to Ecolympus.” He set the tray on the table and set about pouring coffee for the gathered guests. “How was the flight in?”

  “Fine,” the woman said. “Captain Muir was very nice. She gave us a tour of the ship during the flight.”

  “It’s an interesting ship,” Greban agreed. “Custom built to handle the environment on Olympus. Please, dig in, everyone. There is a direct correlation between how soon you eat a donut after it was made and how much you enjoy it.”

  It was the same line he always used, but Falken smiled despite himself as the new guests helped themselves. Greban stepped back from the table, and the vidscreen at the front of the lounge sprang to life.

  “While you eat a little breakfast, we’re going to kick things off with some introductions, and then Falken will tell you a little bit more about your safari and how it all works. So, I’m Eron Greban. Owner of Ecolympus Tours, chef, and your host. I’m from the Nordic Union originally, but I studied molecular gastronomy, learned to cook in Hong Kong, and eventually sold several of my restaurants to buy this wonderful ship, with the goal of becoming the most exclusive safari provider on Olympus.”

  Greban turned to Falken, indicating him with a hand. “And this hulking beast of a man is Sirio Falken, my partner and friend.”

  Falken smiled. “Hi, guys. Everyone calls me Falken. I’m a xenobiologist who studied the dragons for a couple years down on the surface, before jumping over to the adventure tourism side as a guide. In addition to supporting us and our business, you should know that your visitor fees help support ongoing research on the dragons, as well as the upkeep and conservation of Olympus’ ecosystem. So thanks for coming, thanks for picking us here at Ecolympus, and thanks for helping keep Olympus a protected Colonial Wildlife Refuge.”

  “Let’s just take a minute to go around the table,” Greban suggested. “We’re all going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few days, so let’s get to know one another.”

  Two of the men looked at each other, then shrugged. “I’ll start, I guess,” the first one said. “I’m Shep and this is my little brother, Kuda. Um … born and raised in the colonies, we’re in the import business now. Super stoked to be here.”

  “Kuda,” the younger man next to him said, waving to the other guests. “A couple of our friends went on a tour a year or two ago, I’m really looking forward to seeing a dragon up close. But don’t believe anything my brother says about me; he’s a pathological liar, except when he’s drunk.”

  The other guests chuckled, as Shep punched his brother playfully in the arm. “I was just about to tell them what a great brother you are.”

  “See?” Kuda asked. “Lying already.”

  The tall black man to their left spoke next. “Hey, everyone. My name’s Raynard Barrington. Jamaican by heritage. I’m a freelance photojournalist, and I’m actually not here on vacation, I’m on assignment for an adventure sports blog.”

  “So your job is to go on vacation?” the woman asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, smiling. “It’s a good job. Anyway, I’m doing a review article on Olympus and the different tour operators. So I’ll be taking a lot of photos and videos while we’re down there, but hopefully you guys won’t notice me. Does anyone have an issue with their picture appearing in the article?”

  The woman and the two brothers shook their heads readily, but the man at the end of the table frowned. “I’d prefer not to be in your photos.”

  “Oh,” Raynard said. “Uh, okay, fair enough. I can blur you out, so you’re not recognizable.”

  In the awkward silence that followed, Falken cleared this throat. “Raynard, if there’s anything specific you want a shot of while we’re down there, just let me know and I’ll make sure we get it for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” Falken said. He looked at the woman. Something kinda familiar about her, Falken thought. He nodded for her to continue the introductions.

  “I’m Vina,” she said, tucking a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. She was young – in her early twenties, Falken guessed. “And this is not something I normally do, at all! I’m not really into adventure travel; I’m in software sales back on Earth. I actually won this trip at my job, as part of a sales competition. So I’m a little nervous.” She winced.

  “Everyone gets nervous,” Falken reassured her. “It’s totally normal. And we’re not going to make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. Where did you say you were from?”

  “Texas,” she said. “Lawson County.”

  “Welcome. And last, but not least,” Greban said, smiling at the man at the end of the table.

  “Edmark,” the older man said, gruffly. His gray eyebrows knitted together. “Ed, for short.”

  There was another awkward silence while everyone waited for him to continue.

  “… and what do you when you’re not out on dragon safaris, Ed?” Greban asked, finally.

  “I’m a business owner,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” Greban said. “Well, again, welcome everyone. Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s talk a little bit about Olympus. Falken?”

  The screen brightened, showing the curved horizon of a planet, lit by a distant sun. The surface was a mottled mass of gray and green, and appeared mountainous even from space.

  “This is Olympus,” Falken said. “You’re looking at a live shot from our external sensors. Olympus is a designated Wildlife Refuge. That means that the Colonial government controls all access to the planet, and the only people that are allowed to visit are research scientists, and a limited number of tourists like yourselves, visiting by virtual proxy through one of the two licensed and registered safari companies. The Colonies are very serious about protecting the planet: there’s actually a fleet of armed drones in orbit below us, patrolling to ensure there’s no unauthorized access.”

  “They know not to shoot this ship down, though, right?” Kuda asked, frowning.

  “Actually, no,” Falken said. “They’d fire on us if we dropped too close to the planet’s atmosphere. But we don’t have to worry about that – tell you why in a minute. So … Olympus is a regulated sanctuary, because its ecosystem is unique, and too much human presence could easily disrupt it. Our aim is to have little to no impact on the natural environment. That’s why we say: ‘take only pictures, leave only footprints.’ ”

  Falken flicked his hand through the air as if swiping on the page of a giant book, and the screen changed, showing a green-tinted human male wearing a set of khaki fatigues. The man’s body rotated slowly on screen.

  “We don’t have to worry about those drones below us because we’re not actually descending to the planet’s surface. Instead, we’ll be experiencing the planet through a technique known as ‘sensory displacement.’ “

  “The clones thing, right?” Vina asked.

  “Right,” Falken agreed. “The welcome packet we sent you a few weeks ago had a quick overview, but I know no one reads those things, so I’ll recap how the sensory displacement process works. Ecolympus has a small production facility located on the ground, and while you guys were traveling here, that facility was building a set of virtual ‘proxies’ for each of you. They look just like you – same size, same features, everything. That’s why we needed a 3D scan of you before you got here. Each of the proxies has a powerful internal antenna that enables us to stream – live, and in real-time – what that proxy is experiencing up to us here in orbit. That includes all five senses: sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing. We’ll all suit up in a special rig and climb into the sensory displacement pods here on t
he ship, and then you can connect to that stream and essentially see, hear, and feel everything your proxy is doing down on the planet. And, of course, you’ll be able to remotely control the proxy, too. Hence: sensory displacement. It’s exactly like being on the ground on Olympus … without the obvious dangers.”

  “How does it compare to virtual reality?” Raynard asked.

  “No comparison,” Falken said, shaking his head. “You can kind of fool yourself into thinking VR is real, if you try hard enough. With sensory displacement, you’ll feel like you fell asleep for a second, and then woke up on the planet. It’s going to feel one hundred percent real – no need to try to fool yourself.”

  “Why are the clones green?” Shep asked. “Is it for camouflage?”

  “We call them ‘proxies,’ ” Falken corrected him. “They’re not exactly clones: they don’t match your DNA or anything, they just resemble you physically. But to answer your question, no – it’s not for camouflage. Remember: dragons are sightless. We make the proxies a little green because it’s not a naturally occurring color for the human body. That means we can immediately tell the difference between a proxy and a real human, in the event of an emergency.”

  “I thought humans weren’t allowed on the surface?” Raynard asked.

  “Tourists aren’t,” Falken said. “But there’s a small research center that is manned by real humans, not proxies. So if something went wrong at the research facility, they’d call the Liberty Belle, which is the only ship that’s cleared for landing on the planet. They would immediately fly in to rescue the scientists. But if there were a bunch of tourists running around in proxies with normal skin tones, it might be hard for the rescue team to sort out who actually needed to be rescued. With the green skin tinting, they know right away.”

  Falken put his hands on his hips. “Proxies are also heavier than a normal human – Olympus has about two-thirds the mass of Earth. To compensate for that lower gravity, we weight the proxies down a bit, so that moving around down on the planet has the same physics you’re used to on Earth or similar-sized planets.”

  “And the dragons eat the proxies?” Vina asked.