The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1)

by Matthew Williams

  That had been Ward’s choice, and the source of his greatest mistake. In his drive to “feel more real,” he had gotten people killed.

  But after years of being deprived of them, he had found he learned to miss them. An unregulated, unaugmented mind could be a terrible and terrifying thing. It cried out for narcotic intervention simply to remain stable, and led to unwelcome visitors dropping in whenever things were especially bad. Now, feeling too normal felt like an entirely acceptable price for not being visited by Baella, Xaver, or Iswolski.

  There were enough ghosts in the universe. He didn’t need to be subjected to any non-virtual ones. So he merely stood there, letting excitement and serenity wash over him in equal measure. There really wasn’t much else to do.

  Except wait.

  And watch.

  Of interest were the two vessels sat on the deck. To his right, resting on its landing struts, was the yacht he would be taking as his transport. Much like the one which had brought him aboard Ares, it was a luxury model. Smooth, sloping surfaces, skin like mercury, and a clear bubble at the front providing a panoramic view. Such a ship wasn’t meant to carry more than a dozen people at a time, all of them in extreme comfort.

  To his left sat a ship of a totally different nature. By contrast, this ship was sharp and angular, consisting of two main sections connected by a gently curved hull. Located fore and aft, these sections boasted pylons mounting a series of VTOL thrusters. One look at the main thruster assembly, which was turned towards him at present, let him know it was meant for high speeds.

  Standing around it, six figures moved back and forth, carrying crates and assorted containers inside. They were Adler’s men. Both their ship and their manifest looked disturbingly martial in nature.

  The information being fed to him by the overlay he had called up was telling him as much. From where he was standing, he couldn’t see any weapons overtly located on the ship’s mounts, but that didn’t make it seem any less dangerous.

  Adler appeared at the far end of the deck, making his way over to assist his people, and Ward decided to venture over himself. Now the job was arranged and his participation confirmed, he felt somewhat bolder. As soon as he was within earshot, Adler took notice of him and broke off the conversation he was having with his personnel.

  “Mr. Ward. You’re early.”

  Ward shrugged. “I wanted to get a jump on the day. Figured I might I get down here and help with the loadout.”

  “Oh, we’re fine here. Besides, your ship is that way.” Adler pointed in the direction of the yacht. Ward pressed on undeterred.

  “Looks like you folks are flying light by comparison.”

  Adler shrugged. “The better for us to keep an eye on you, sir. Besides, we like to get around quickly in this system.”

  Ward tilted his head in the direction of Adler’s ship. “That’s an attack skiff, though, isn’t it? Cǎiguāng-class, if I’m not mistaken. Compliment of eight, effective range of sixteen AU without refueling?”

  Adler seemed the slightest bit surprised, until he realized Ward was getting all this information from his connection to the Survey. A simple image recognition scan would tell him all he needed to know in an instant.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Adler said. “We acquired it a few years ago. It’s no longer a military vessel, though. As you can see, we stripped it down of all non-essential parts, including its armaments. We even added a few enhancements to extend its range and boost its sensor package.”

  Ward acknowledged as much. On top, and on the front and rear sections, there were areas which looked like they’d once housed heavy weaponry. Now they were utterly bare.

  “Still,” said Ward. “If any patrol saw you flying around in that thing.”

  Adler smirked. “Not possible. This ship is rigged for silent running. If anyone in the Outer Worlds were even capable of detecting this ship, I’d be shocked and appalled.”

  Ward frowned. Adler’s boasting was doing nothing to deter his misgivings. Neither was the equipment he saw Adler’s people loading up. Even without plain labels, Ward recognized weapons crates when he saw them. Judging from their size and shape, he was pretty sure he might guess the make and model of what was inside each.

  Mikkeler Automags.

  Kōjin Ballisitic Carbines.

  Agni Directed-Energy Rifles.

  There were also a few boxes of EM/Stun grenades. And last, but certainly not least, there was the largest of the crates, which was being moved across the ground via magnetic induction. Ward was sure to point this one out.

  “What’s this?”

  Adler glanced at the crate before answering. “Exoframes. The kind specifically calibrated for low-g environments typical in the Outer Worlds. Ensures speed and mobility, as well as added strength.”

  “Are they armored?”

  “Wouldn’t be much sense in them not being, would there?”

  Ward abandoned any pretense of casualness and finally turned to confront Adler. “Just what kind of trouble are you expecting out there, Adler?”

  The man seemed unaffected by the question. His voice still sounded entirely even and he didn’t bother to meet Ward’s gaze.

  “We’re preparing for every contingency, Mr. Ward. Best case scenario, you’ll accomplish your objectives without incident. Worst case, you’ll come into some danger and require an extraction at a moment’s notice. I don’t plan on being caught off guard.”

  Ward frowned. Even what Adler was saying, and the rather flippant way in which he said it, seemed martial in nature. He certainly understood no one wanted to take any chances with this mission. Between the weaponry and the stealth ship, it felt like Adler was preparing for a war, not an investigation.

  Everything about it reeked of legal and moral ambiguity.

  “Ah, I forgot the best part.”

  Adler gestured to one of his people, who was pushing a small trolley towards them. There were three small cases on it, which together barely reached waist height. When it arrived, Adler put his hands on the top one and spun it around, pressing his thumb against a small tab to release the seal on it.

  “What is that?” Ward asked suspiciously.

  “This is for you, sir. We’re not the only people who’ll be going in well-protected.”

  Adler popped open the lid of the case and reached inside. Ward’s eyes widened when he realized what Adler was producing, but the effect of bringing it out into the light seemed to make the reveal much more meaningful. The moment became even more so when he handed it to Ward as if it were a special gift.

  “While we were unable to procure your old sidearm, I had this especially ordered for you. Through some minor modifications, we were able to reproduce the exact specifications.” Adler sounded mildly apologetic.

  Ward’s heart sank a tad as he realized he wasn’t holding his old service weapon. Given how high it had soared at the mere sight of the old Rutger, he still counted himself happy. Needlessly, Adler began listing off the technical specs of the weapon.

  “Rutger-Samson, model seven-A-one. Standard Interpol-issue in your day. 10.16-millimeter caseless rounds, available in sub-, super-, and hypersonic firing modes.”

  The weapon felt so very poised in Ward’s hand. Advanced nanofabricated materials ensured it was low-weight and perfectly balanced. Only the internal clockwork mechanisms that accelerated its ammunition to high (or sound-breaking) speeds caused it to feel like it had any real heft to it.

  Ward found himself gently drawing the weapon to his chest. He stopped, realizing how comical he must appear right now. He looked to Adler. Though not smiling, he appeared extremely smug. Ward indicated the other cases on the trolley. “What’s in the rest of them?”

  Adler removed the top case and opened the second in the pile. Inside, there were several pieces of equipment, but the largest one was unmistakably the intended focal point.

  “Body armor,” said Ward. “Tungsten alloy?”

  Adler nodded. “Just in case you find
yourself squared off against someone with an energy weapon. If they slice off a limb, your medimachines will keep you from bleeding out. The body armor will keep your organs from boiling and bursting.”

  Ward drew a tight breath. Once again, he was getting a very bad feeling. Contingencies be dammed, he thought. No one went to these lengths unless they were expecting the worst, and that didn’t exactly put him in a very comfortable spot. Weapons and armor only went so far. When it came to unknown dangers, there simply was no protection.

  Which prompted Ward to remember the pain in his bones long since disappeared, taken care of by the first of his many recent medicinal treatments. The memory, however, was still fresh, as was the feeling of limitations he still had hanging over him.

  He looked to Adler then and eyed him intently for a second. A singular thought began running around in his mind. Though not wholly proper, it made more sense by the moment.

  “What is it?” Adler asked.

  “Adler,” Ward began, using his formal title. “There’s something I need to check. Something I’ve been meaning to test since I woke up. I wonder if you might oblige me.”

  Adler frowned before his face morphed into an expression of realization. The smug look returned shortly thereafter, and he braced himself.

  To Ward’s arms, the entire motion seemed like something out of a half-forgotten dream. Only instinct propelled his fist forward and his body braced for the moment when thousands of volts from his neural spike would come crashing down to stop him. It was almost like jumping off a cliff and expecting to be caught by a net. Every second the net didn’t come up, he felt like he was in free fall. Right up to the moment when his fist connected squarely with Adler’s jaw.

  Everyone on the deck paused to stare open-mouthed in the two men’s direction. Some of them looked like they wanted to intervene, but were waiting for an explanation, for Adler to tell them to do so. After swaying somewhat, Adler drew himself up and planted a finger to where his lip had been cut.

  “Not bad, Mr. Ward.” He regarded the blood on his finger. “Not great, but I know it’s been awhile.”

  Adler’s medimachines were quick to respond. Within seconds, the cut sealed itself and the blood disappeared into his flesh. When the wound was gone, all Ward saw was the devilish grin Adler now wore.

  “Yes, it has. Thanks for indulging me.”

  Adler waved a thick finger at him.” Just remember. The first one is free.’

  Ward chuckled, though he sensed there was a genuine threat in Adler’s words. That didn’t matter. All he thought of, now, was how free he felt.

  Part III: Jovians

  During the late twenty-first century, the Galilean moons of Europa, Ganymede and Callisto began to be populated in waves. The first came slowly, thanks to the establishment of research station that gave rise to small colonies of scientists, explorers and adventurers. In time, commercial interests followed, and then came the waves of “Retros” – people looking to escape the rapidly advancing lifestyles of the Martian and Cytherean colonies.

  As the sole moon that lies beyond the veil of Jupiter’s powerful magnetosphere, Callisto was the only Jovian where settlements could be built directly into the surface. Here, where impact features are both large and plentiful, settlements were created by building domes directly into surface features. In no time at all, the ring features of Agar and Valhalla, as well as the craters of Heimdall, Lofn and Adlinda all became thriving communities.

  -Nadia Cowry, Demographic Study of the Outer Worlds (2278)

  Fifteen

  Once he was brought out of hibernation, Ward found himself alone. Except for the transport crew and the ship’s Geminoid doctor, he had no company to speak of. For the many days the liner steadily approached the Jovian system, he found himself with nothing to do but look over the case files he had been given. Sitting alone in his quarters between exercise and meals, he would lean back in the comfortable chair next to the room’s bureau, looking over multiple windows and documents in his field of view at the same time.

  It had been worthwhile. He took the time to look over all the information Emile had given him on Doctors Lee and Amaru. He was even able to use the ship’s comm to send a chime back to Mars and access the Survey. At their current distance, under five hundred million kilometers, it took a good half hour for the Survey to chime back his requests. Not that time was a factor. He had plenty on his hands and nowhere else to go.

  He made very few requests in the end. For all intents and purposes, the life of Doctor Lee was an open book. As Extros went, he was rather young, having been born in Huǒxīng in 2148. By the time he joined the Formists, he had received multiple degrees in ecology, chemistry, and mineralogy – all appropriate for a Martian patriot looking to change his world.

  At the time of his disappearance, Lee was still on his first marriage, having sired only two children. This was not completely unexpected, though Ward had suspected he might have taken part in an off-world venture at least once in his life. For those brave Martians, raised in sealed habitats for most of their lives, going into space and seeing the sights and sounds of other-worldly places was par for the course, as was engaging in a little mischief while they were at it.

  Surprisingly though, Lee had done no such thing. From Huǒxīng, to his studies at Pavonopolis, to his settling down with Mrs. Würzburg-Lee, he had done very little which might be considered interesting or adventurous. His career since joining Emile and the Formists was equally unostentatious. Sure, his work would take him to interesting places, but Lee appeared to follow a strict itinerary whenever he did so.

  All told, Ward found nothing in the course of his nearly fifty-year bio to explain why such a man would find himself in a pleasure district during his downtime. His psychological profile and Interpol records confirmed as much. Nowhere in the many neural scans he had performed over the course of his life – beginning with his first visit to the neuropath as a child, to his latest memory backup before he had left Mars for the last time – was there any indication of deviance or aberrant behavior.

  Then again, as Iswolski had once taught him, it was the suspects that were the most seemingly normal you had to keep your eye on. Still, he would have appreciated it if there was something to justify such suspicion. Otherwise, he would have to conclude Lee’s presence in the Yellow Light District was an aberration.

  Ward had also found little of interest when viewing the extensive list of people of interest on Callisto and Titan – all the elected or appointed officials whose contact information might come in handy at some point in the mission.

  It was when he got to Doctor Amaru that things became a bit less clear. Born in the Venera settlement on Venus, she spent much of her youth moving from one place to the next, studying, working, and getting involved in various causes. Here was the kind of behavior Ward expected to find in Lee’s file. Here were the signs of an adventurous personality, someone who could be counted on to have a little fun in a socially unacceptable kind of way.

  Amaru had finally settled down, after a fashion. Once she had completed her studies, she enlisted with the Formists on Mars. For a young soul looking to get away from home and find her own way, it was the perfect fit. Like her fellow Cythereans, the Chandrasekhar clan and their associates were committed to building a paradise on an otherwise lifeless world.

  Given her credentials, being the point-woman for the Formists resources operations in the Outer Worlds afforded her the opportunity to do meaningful work and get around. Her work had taken her from Mars to the Jovians, to the Cronians, and back again. And when she wasn’t otherwise engaged, she ventured back in the direction of Venus. However, from what Ward could tell, she never made it farther inward than Earth.

  How such a person ever worked with someone like Doctor Lee was beyond him. He was sure he would learn more once he met her. In fact, as time slowly passed aboard the liner, he became increasingly restless for it. Like so much about the case, the official facts really didn’t provide a s
atisfying picture. Some additional, human context was necessary.

  There was a chime in his mind. A small blinking green light appeared in the upper right corner of his overlay. The bridge was pinging him. Ward initiated a reply, audio only. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Ward,” said the voice of the pilot. “I wanted to inform you we have entered the Jovian system and are on approach. We will be in orbit of Callisto in a few hours.”

  “Thank you,” he said, preparing to terminate the call, but the pilot’s voice interrupted him.

  “I thought I would remind you that if you head to the starboard lounge, you’ll be able to watch our approach.”

  Ward considered this for a moment. He looked back at all the information he had before him, all the documents and folders of the doctors’ dossiers. He saw no reason for going over it all again, and he got the impression the pilot was urging him to take some downtime. Perhaps the pilot was correct. Maybe had been isolating himself deliberately, the effects of being trapped in one crowded facility after another for the past few years.

  “Yeah, think I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” the pilot said, and signed off.

  Ward waved his hand, closing all the windows in his pane. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up from his chair and left his quarters behind.

  On a ship of this size, with the sheer number of compartments which had transparent panels in them, every room felt like an observation lounge. Luckily, the ship’s main computer was kind enough to feed the internal map into his overlay. This made getting around the otherwise empty vessel much easier.

  The view was certainly impressive, and brought back some semi-pleasant memories. Ward couldn’t remember the last time he had been to Callisto for any reason other than to investigate a smuggling ring or catch someone fleeing Inner Solar Law. As the first stop in the outer Solar System beyond Ceres, it was the farthest point fugitives would get before either being caught, or disappearing indefinitely. Once they fell off the Survey, they were much more difficult to find.