The Tabit Genesis

by Tony Gonzales

  But where he had earned the named ‘Tyrell the Tyrant’ was in his relentless pursuit of criminal activity past the Belt into the Outer Rim. Economists called him ‘an enemy to commerce’ thanks to his interdiction mandate: Navy police reserved the right to force any ship to burn down from intersystem freight speeds and be inspected at the Hera Transit, no matter who the owner or how much fuel it cost them. He also made sure the Navy maintained an active presence around Zeus, protecting its Three mining operations and sharing security resources with Inner Rim corporations. Most controversially, he sent undercover agents into privateer stations, even cartel hideouts. He spent a large portion of his budget on espionage, and gave his officers unlimited discretion to extract information from criminal operatives.

  Feared, loathed, or admired, enough people believed that Orionis needed someone like him. Like Wyllym, he was the product of a generation whose brotherly innocence had been shattered by the Independence Wars. The urgency to maintain law and order for the last bastion of mankind gave him licence to embrace tactics which valued the pursuit of justice by any means. To a fault, he was loyal to the Orionis government, and mortally opposed to all those who were not.

  Fortunately for Wyllym, the man considered him a close friend, and he knew better than to let himself get baited into a conversation about their favourite Admiral.

  ‘Lieutenant Vanders is a good man,’ Wyllym said. ‘Talented too, in spite of this debacle.’

  ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘Exhaustion,’ Wyllym said, stretching out his own carcass. He hadn’t flown in days, and it was doing miracles for his recovery. He almost felt human again. ‘We’re finding their limits.’

  Augustus – Wyllym had called him ‘Ty’ since their days in the Naval Academy – took a seat across from him. His leathery face was criss-crossed with age; much of his scalp showed beneath thin strands of white hair.

  ‘I thought the Gift prevented this sort of thing from happening,’ he said.

  ‘Knowing what’s coming is one thing,’ Wyllym said, rubbing his eyes. ‘Reacting to it is something else. The lad’s not “trash”, Ty. This is a highly competitive pool for a small number of spots.’

  ‘I know, stop being so damn sensitive,’ the old man growled. ‘A pilot with skills like that belongs on a belt runner chasing down Ceti corvettes.’

  ‘Hedricks isn’t going to let that happen,’ Wyllym warned.

  ‘Fuck Hedricks,’ Augustus snapped, loud enough to make Wyllym concerned about the deck entrance being open. ‘He’s taken enough already.’

  Wyllym lowered his voice.

  ‘I agree, but I wouldn’t be so vocal about it. You’re not untouchable, Chief.’

  ‘Neither is he,’ Augustus said, defiant as ever. ‘I’m not sure I understand where it says that his post lets him appropriate the best resources in Orionis for a science project.’

  ‘I don’t like it either, but I keep my head low. This is the Navy, right?’

  ‘Not the one I joined. The priorities around here aren’t what they used to be. Years ago someone like you would have earned a cruiser command by now. Now you’re a classic example of government waste.’

  Wyllym stared at him for a moment.

  ‘Is that what you think of the Gryphons?’

  ‘No offence, Wyll,’ Augustus said, ‘but there must be a horse somewhere in Orionis, because its shit is all over the show you’re running here.’

  ‘Thanks for your support.’

  The police chief leaned forward, his eyes blazing.

  ‘You just slammed a good pilot into a wall, and for what? To prove he can’t fly through real morph razors? That’s stupid. The red bastards can’t be beaten. You know it, I know it, anyone with a functioning brain knows it. All this nonsense does is let Hedricks trick Chancellor Jade and those Senate idiots into thinking there’s hope. Hell, you’ve seen what the SPECFOR freaks have found. The Archangel is a political toy that’s good for just one thing: bullying humans, that’s it.’

  ‘The Gift makes those Gryphons especially deadly—’

  ‘And there’s just what, eighteen of them, less the one you splattered in a training exercise. So what if they can dodge cannon fire? This Archangel business is giving the cartels a strong incentive to launch an offensive, and I mean a real one. Not isolated outpost raids but a serious push on the Inner Rim.’

  ‘Isn’t that a little conspiratorial?’

  ‘Wyll, you’re not some rookie with a hero complex any more.’

  ‘I’ve never had a hero complex.’

  ‘Whatever. Think, Wyll. When the Archangel leaves, the most powerful deterrent we’ve ever had is leaving with it, along with our most capable commanders and soldiers.’

  ‘It’s my understanding that our fleet strength is completely unaffected by anything the Archangel is doing,’ Wyllym said, surprised that he was becoming defensive. ‘There will be just as many Navy warships here as before.’

  Augustus was indignant, reddening as he spoke.

  ‘The government bankrupted itself to build that fucking thing, so we can’t afford to replace any ships we lose. Or did you forget we depend on the Outer Rim for resources, like cheap fuel? You don’t think Ceti is aware of that?’

  ‘It always comes back to Ceti with you,’ Wyllym said, deciding that he’d had enough. ‘Did you come up here just to be a jerk? I don’t have time for it.’

  Augustus frowned at him, surprised by the query.

  ‘Katrin left,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Thought you’d want to know.’

  Wyllym felt a pang in his stomach.

  ‘Are you kidding?’

  ‘A month before you got here. No note or explanation. I came up here to say hello and ask if maybe you’ve heard from her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ty, I haven’t,’ Wyllym said. He had introduced them during their graduation ceremony nearly thirty years ago. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Bah, it was a long time coming. People change.’

  ‘That’s true enough.’

  ‘It’s been five years since we lost Danna,’ Augustus said. ‘We kept it together longer than anyone thought we would. That’s something, right?’

  Danna Tyrell had been nothing like her father, and everything like her mother. A pacifist, an aspiring bioengineer, she’d been happily married to a promising young police cadet named Jake Reddeck. While he was away on assignment, Ceti marauders had raided her shuttle and tried to extort a ransom for her safe return. After a failed rescue attempt the pirates had killed everyone on board. Danna had been carrying their first child.

  Augustus was staring at him, waiting for an answer.

  ‘You still had more than most people ever get,’ Wyllym said carefully. ‘Are you sure you just want to throw it away?’

  ‘She’s the one who bailed out.’

  ‘You have no idea why?’ Wyllym asked, with a dangerous level of sarcasm in his voice. ‘She stood by your side through the darkest times. Katrin didn’t change at all. You, on the other hand—’

  ‘I don’t have to take this shit from you,’ Augustus said, standing up. ‘What would you know about having a partner, anyway?’

  ‘You don’t like hearing the truth, especially when you’re wrong.’

  Augustus thumbed his own chest.

  ‘I’m never wrong.’

  ‘Well that part of you hasn’t changed. How goes the war on Ceti?’

  ‘The numbers speak for themselves, Wyll,’ he returned, his face darkening. ‘Inner Rim crime is down, illegal trade is down. We’ve got brave men and women fighting a covert battle to dismantle the cartels. I’d say the war has never gone better.’

  ‘That reminds me. There was an article in the Orionis Net, about this so-called war you’re waging.’

  ‘About some undercover agents that were executed?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘You really don’t want to know.’

  Wyllym lowered his voice again.

  ‘Everyo
ne knows about the gift-wrapped heads you received from Vladric Mors, and they want to know what you’re going to do about it.’

  Augustus held his glare.

  ‘It was Jake.’

  Wyllym felt a wave of nausea.

  ‘You mean, his head was in …’

  ‘He’s the one who sawed theirs off,’ Augustus said. ‘Our understanding is that Jake sold them out, then tortured and killed them.’

  Wyllym was speechless. He had met Jake several times. The lad was a good man, had been a good husband. This had to be a mistake – but Augustus would never joke about something like this.

  ‘Did Katrin know?’

  ‘It’s better for her she doesn’t. Besides, I just put a large bounty on him.’

  ‘He’s your son-in-law.’

  ‘Was. Now he’s a top dog at Ceti with Navy blood on his hands. I don’t know what compelled him to kill those cops, and I don’t care. What he did was despicable. Dead or alive, Jake is coming home.’

  ‘You put him in that position,’ Wyllym pressed. ‘Was it worth his life?’

  ‘Undercover work is dangerous. He knew the risks. We put soldiers in harm’s way to protect Orionis. You weren’t overly concerned whether Lieutenant Vanders survived.’

  ‘It’s not the same and you know it,’ Wyllym countered. ‘If you came up here looking for someone to tell you you’re doing the right thing, you’re out of luck.’

  The police chief nodded, ever so slightly, never once blinking. Wyllym only saw this face when Augustus was furious – it was passive, hiding his true intentions.

  ‘Why do you do this?’ Augustus asked quietly.

  ‘Do what? Confront you with the truth?’

  ‘Sacrifice,’ he said. ‘For the Navy. The Gryphons. Hedricks. What did you turn into, the day half the people you loved were buried alive?’

  ‘That’s low, Ty.’

  ‘Sixty years old, no wife, no children, no home to call your own. Look at you, back from the dead, and for what? What did you come back for? What reason do you have for actually living?’

  Wyllym regarded his friend with cold, grey eyes.

  ‘When the Archangel has her Gryphons, I’m retiring,’ he said. ‘I was happiest when I was growing things. Nurturing life. I thought I’d lease a plot on Eris. Go back to being a farmer.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So all you live for is dirt and solitude,’ Augustus said. ‘All I ever wanted was to be a grandfather. I lived for Danna. But to each his own, I guess.’

  Wyllym took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

  ‘I won’t put Vladric Mors in front of a judge,’ Augustus continued. ‘I owe her that much.’

  ‘If you want to understand why Katrin left,’ Wyllym said, ‘think about what you just said.’

  A soft tone interrupted the tension, followed by another. Someone from the rescue operation was trying to reach Wyllym. He plucked the headset floating nearby and put it back on.

  ‘Lyons.’

  Augustus began making his way to the exit.

  ‘Just received word that Lieutenant Vanders will survive,’ Wyllym announced, raising his voice. ‘I’ll send you his files, but if anyone asks, you didn’t get them from me.’

  His friend stopped at the door.

  ‘Keep them,’ Augustus said. ‘Might be he’s safer on the Archangel. Lord knows what I’d ask of him.’

  11

  VIOLA

  There was no place left to hide, and Travis stalked her like a relentless predator, his eyes full of murder. She fought against him with primal desperation, but he laughed at her struggle, toying with her before one final shove sent her hurling through the airlock, falling into the atmosphere of Zeus. As she plummeted towards oblivion, the ship faded from view, swallowed up by the clouds. Terrible gusts of wind pummelled her. She tried not to scream, for there was no air to breathe. But her lungs betrayed her and she began to choke, clutching at her throat, thrashing to face the direction of her descent.

  That was when she heard it: music, of all things, beautiful and dark and hauntingly hypnotic. And then they emerged from the red clouds beneath her – breathtaking, luminescent swarms of Arkady hunters; thousands of intelligent beings acting as one, enveloping her, offering comfort, singing her death song … Viola, Viola, Viola!

  ‘Viola!’ Mighan shouted, her voice thundering through the ammonia clouds.

  The dream collapsed and Viola’s eyes blinked open, focusing on the puddle of drool on her desk.

  Mighan was standing just a metre from her.

  ‘Wake up!’ she demanded.

  Viola sat abruptly, pulling strands of spittle-dampened hair from her mouth and tucking them behind her ear.

  ‘The hazmat crew would like a word,’ Mighan growled with blistering annoyance.

  The time was 21:52. Viola had no idea how long she had been asleep.

  ‘What for?’ she mumbled, her voice dry. Reaching for her water jug, she tilted the end to her lips, but it was empty. So she held it out towards Mighan.

  ‘Do you mind …?’

  Nostrils flaring, the assistant snatched the container from Viola’s hand.

  ‘Answer the damn call!’ Mighan bellowed.

  That cleared the fogginess somewhat, and Viola returned fully to her desk at Merckon Prime.

  ‘Silveri,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, finally. Sorry to interrupt, but the sample we just brought in is enormous. It won’t fit in the lab unless we cut it.’

  ‘No!’ Viola shouted, wide awake now. ‘Don’t you dare! Let me see it.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the hazmat crewman said. The camera display showed a large shipping container, one of the standardised ones that were stacked inside the modular nodes of freighters.

  Normally, Arkady tissue samples came back in crates barely larger than her chair.

  Dressed in airtight survival suits, the hazmat specialist and his colleagues began opening the container door. It hissed as cold air leaked out, and the camera began panning inside.

  Viola gasped.

  ‘May I present one slightly decomposed, structurally intact hunter tentacle,’ he said. ‘It’s six metres long and weighs eighty kilos. The business end is missing, but it still has some of the thorax attachment tendons.’

  ‘Where did this come from?’ she breathed.

  ‘A Vulcan Dynamics freighter called it in. The captain said he bought it off a trawler operator at one of the Zeus exchange outposts. Apparently it changed hands several times before he acquired it.’

  ‘But you don’t know which trawler?’

  ‘No, ma’am, I do not. The captain mentioned that whoever was on the receiving end of that tentacle must either be dead or the toughest roughneck in Orionis.’

  Viola would have given anything to interview the miner who had come face-to-face with a hunter. Getting close to one and coming out alive was considered miraculous. Surviving actual physical contact was unheard of.

  ‘Leave it right there, and keep it under guard,’ Viola ordered. It was so annoying that she couldn’t just go down there herself, but those were the rules. ‘Nice work, gentlemen.’

  ‘Thanks—’

  ‘Mighan!’ Viola shouted, whipping her hands about to manipulate new data imagery projections. ‘I need you to extend AR coverage to the freight container downstairs. There’s a specimen inside I’ll need scanned and modelled. Talk to engineering about getting drones in there, I don’t trust human hands for this. How soon can we run a preliminary—? What?’

  The exasperated assistant was glaring at her.

  ‘It is almost 22:00,’ Mighan said in a calm, composed voice. ‘You haven’t left the building in three days, and you’ve been in this office for the last twenty hours.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So get a life,’ Mighan snapped. ‘I’m shutting the office down.’

  And with that, all of Viola’s airborne telemetry vanished. Before she could protest, Mighan held up a large hand.
r />   ‘My job is to protect your work, or more specifically Merckon’s work, and unfortunately that means safeguarding your well-being,’ Mighan said, tossing a tiny keycard onto the desk. ‘Take that and get out of here so I can leave.’

  Viola eyed the card suspiciously.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Unlimited VIP access for you and a friend to Sirkus,’ Mighan said, strolling towards the door, her feet cutting a path through crumpled wrappers of empty food containers and energy supplements. The accumulated detritus from working non-stop was alarming, but then Viola’s fascinating discovery several days earlier made all the sleep deprivation worthwhile. There was just so much more to learn that it was easy to block out everything else.

  But Sirkus was an enticing distraction. It was the most exclusive nightclub at Merckon Prime, a playground for the rich and famous.

  ‘Why are you giving me this?’

  ‘Because Mr Mareck thinks you’re in danger of burning out,’ Mighan said. ‘Everything you order is on the company account, no questions asked, including transportation. He also said to take tomorrow off.’

  ‘I don’t want the day off, that specimen needs to be catalogued—’

  ‘It is not negotiable,’ Mighan spat. ‘The building won’t let you in. Find somewhere else to go.’

  ‘Why wasn’t I informed of this before?’

  ‘Because you didn’t ask,’ Mighan said. ‘Now get out before I remove you myself.’

  The lights went out, and Mighan crossed her arms impatiently. Viola felt helpless for a few moments. Then she reached for her corelink and placed a call.

  ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time’ was the last thought Viola recalled before a ringing corelink reminded her that she had made plans for a late evening. There were no Arkady dreams – just blackness, and a disorienting inability to remember how she ended up in the women’s locker room at Merckon Prime. Her friend Carrie found her half asleep on a bench, and had to drag her into the shower to wake her up. The physical toll of so many hours and so little sleep was evident, but Carrie would hear nothing of it: no one passed up an opportunity for Sirkus, especially, as she described it, ‘a nobody that works in legal’. A fitness fanatic like Viola, the two had become acquainted in the Merckon gym; similar routines and schedules created opportune circumstances for them to become friends.