The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1)

by Matthew Williams

  The bartender stiffened. His hand kept working, but his change of demeanor was plain to see. Ward began watching carefully, monitoring him for tiny movements and changes in his intonation.

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Name of Finch. Real stand-up lady. Popular too, from what I hear.”

  The bartender was well-practiced. He didn’t cough, spasm, or drop a glass, though he might as well have, to Ward’s trained eye. The mere mention of her name caused him to stop everything and come about. Whatever trace of professional courtesy there was before was gone.

  “You’ve got the wrong place, sir. We don’t have anyone here by –”

  He froze. His eyes looked past Ward, who turned his head to follow the bartender’s gaze in the direction of the doorway.

  Surrounded by five others, one of whom was Koryo Nan, walked the leader of the Centimanes herself. They all appeared to be in their best finery, and walked with a clear sense of self-importance. It was well-earned. Patrons’ heads turned towards them as they walked by, and the bartender was sure to give them a nod as they walked past. Everyone else in the establishment kept back. A bubble of space surrounded them as they moved past, disappearing into a booth in the rear.

  “Take my advice, friend,” said the bartender once they were alone again. “Whatever you’re hoping to find, it isn’t here.”

  It is now.

  Ward reached into his jacket, producing some hard currency, and placed it down on the counter. He gave the bartender a kind smile and stood up from his seat. More words of advice followed as he proceeded to the rear booth.

  “You’ll never get past her guards.”

  Ward tapped his chest, feeling a sense of relief the armor was there. His weapon was still stowed back at the hotel. He wasn’t going to get anything from Finch by producing a firearm. Thoughts of Nan drawing on him made him wish he had something to fire back with. As much as the armor might shield his guts, his head was still exposed.

  Remain calm, he told himself, cueing his bioimplants to assist him in that endeavor. He focused on the booth as soon it came into view.

  Finch was seated in the center of the small throng of people. They appeared to be chatting away, the occasional laugh emerging from their booth. Nan sat on the right side, keeping a wary eye on the bar. It wasn’t long before he noticed Ward approaching and fixed him with a cold glare. He didn’t move from his seat, but his muscles tensed. A coiled spring, ready to push out.

  Here we go, Ward thought, taking a deep breath.

  Conversation ceased around the table as everyone else became aware of his approach.

  Diplomacy time.

  “Hello, Ms. Finch. Might I have a word?”

  Nan was on his feet and standing next to Ward in a flash. He was still coiled, though, his limbs ready to strike out at the merest provocation. It was quite impressive. Had he not known better, Ward would have insisted the young man was augmented.

  “I mean you no harm. I just have some questions.”

  “And I have some directions,” said Nan through gritted teeth. “Like to the exit.”

  Ward raised his hands defensively. He kept directing his eyes and his glance towards Finch at her table, temporarily ignoring her zealous bodyguard.

  “There’s no need for that. Ms. Finch, I think you might be interested in what –”

  A hand closed on his windpipe before he could react. He looked to Nan’s face instinctively. The mind always wanted to see the source of the attack. His expression was like solid ice, no trace of concern for the fact he was cutting off Ward’s air supply.

  In his visual field, several displays appeared at once. One was warnings regarding his vitals. The others were all emergency messages from his neural hub, demanding permission for him to activate basic defense protocols. Once active, they would enhance his reflexes, motor functions, neural processing, and reaction time. Everything he needed to get Nan out of his way.

  He had hoped to resolve things peacefully, but his options were quite literally being strangled.

  Ward activated the defense protocol. In a split second, his neural loom enhanced everything he needed to defend himself. Neuroreceptivity, response time, adrenaline and endorphin production – time slowed as his perception and reflexes sped up. Raising his right arm between himself and Nan and bringing it down hard on the offending arm, the grip on his throat was temporarily weakened. He followed this by bringing his elbow up to strike at Nan’s temple. It was met there by his other arm, which met his protruding bone with tensed flesh. Ward’s right leg kicked out at Nan’s abdomen to push him back. The hand went free, but not before Ward’s foot landed in his stomach.

  It was like kicking stone. Nan fell back a step, quickly recovering and assuming an offensive posture. Nan’s movements were a flash, and Ward’s enhanced reflexes were barely fast enough to dodge the flurry of jabs reaching for his head.

  Ward stepped back once, twice, nearly losing his footing. Sliding his front foot towards him, and dodging the last of Nan’s attacks, Ward turned his back and kicked out with his left foot. At this point, he was confident his attacker would be too close to move out of the path of his foot. Once he was hit and down on the ground, Ward could try the diplomatic tack again.

  No such luck. Nan was already beyond the tip of his heel and striking down at the ankle when it was barely shy of his ribs. Ward reeled back, grunting loudly. The impact would have been enough to shatter the bone, were it not reinforced with countless layers of carbyne. The two men stood apart long enough for him to realize something painfully obvious.

  “You are augmented,” Ward breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Nan pulled his arms into a defensive posture and readied to attack again. Their last exchange had affected him barely at all, while Ward heard his heart pounding in his ears and watched panicked displays as his body’s machinery tried to keep it all under control.

  Ward had his share of training and plenty of hardware. But suddenly, he was unsure about a stand-up fight. Nan’s grip spoke of muscle and nerve augments that might even go beyond his. A true combat package.

  “Lee,” said Ward, croaking the words out. He tried again, louder. “Do you know where I can find Doctor Lee?”

  “STOP!” commanded a female voice.

  The words had the desired effect. Nan shortened his stance and lowered his fists a little. Ward’s ears even seemed to prick up at the sound of her command. Throwing out Lee’s name seemed to have had the desired effect. For the moment, the diplomatic route appeared open.

  He looked to Finch, who was now standing at her booth.

  “I need to ask you about Doctor Lee, Ms. Finch,” Ward said, his voice still croaking. “He’s been missing for some time, and I need to know how to find him.”

  Finch smiled contemptuously. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

  “Jeremiah Ward. I’d extend my hand, but I don’t think your bloodhound here would appreciate it.”

  Ward nodded in Nan’s direction. For his part, Nan didn’t flinch or show signs of offense. Quite disciplined, he was.

  “And who do you represent, Mr. Ward?”

  Ward swallowed. He had her attention now, and needed his voice back in working order. He raised a finger to her as he coughed a few times to clear the phlegm from his larynx.

  “I’m a Martian. Up until a few weeks ago, I was a Hermian. I represent the Chandrasekhar clan in this matter. And I need your help.”

  The mention of the clan name elicited some half-hidden laughter and hisses from around the table. Finch appeared to roll her eyes, but didn’t shut the door on him yet. As much as they might not be liked in the Outer Worlds, the Chandrasekhar name still held weight. You could always expect to keep a conversation going by dropping it in when needed.

  “Assuming I wanted to, what is it you think I can do for you, Mr. Ward?”

  Ward smiled. He had her speaking in hypotheticals now. A sign of progress in diplomatic exchanges.

  “You know what I’m
talking about. The man disappeared a while back.”

  “Hmmm, an Extro businessman suddenly vanishes without a trace on my moon and no one knows what happened?” she said with some derision. “Of course I do. Everyone heard about that. What’s it got to do with me?”

  Ward raised his hands, palms up, the universal human gesture for not knowing. Regardless of their cultural or geographic differences, some gestures still overcame any barrier.

  “Probably nothing,” he admitted. “But a woman doesn’t get to be in your position by not knowing things. All I need is some information.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. He knew what was coming next, and welcomed it.

  “And what do I get in return?”

  Ward repeated the shrugging gesture. “I would say you can name your price, madam. Mainly, the man has family who would like to know what happened to him. If there’s even a chance he’s still alive, I’d like to be able to tell them that. If not, then I’d like to offer them some closure.”

  His words landed as hoped. Finch’s smile bled away and was replaced by a tinge of empathy. Naturally, he hadn’t penetrated the veil of mistrust yet, not by a longshot. But they were still talking. That was all he could ask for at this point.

  After a moment of silence, she looked to her entourage.

  “Give us five minutes,” she instructed. They reluctantly cleared from the booth and moved further into the establishment. She looked to Nan next, who was still standing in a state of readiness. “Koryo, have a seat. Mr. Ward, please join us.”

  Ward breathed a small sigh of relief. Grabbing a chair from another table, he parked it at the edge of the booth and sat directly across from Finch. Nan was to his right now, slightly beyond the reach of his arm.

  “So, Mr. Ward, you’ve come all this way on an errand for the Chandrasekhar clan. You’re looking for a colleague of theirs who went missing, and claim you’re doing this out of concern for his family?”

  “Yes, and the very handsome retainer they’re paying me.”

  Finch chuckled. “So that’s the extent of your involvement, then? You’re a paid sleuth? Did you even know him or his family?”

  “Not even a little,” Ward admitted. “I’m only doing this for the money, and the fact it will wipe my record clean.”

  Finch raised her head slightly, her eyes looking down at him.

  “Ah, so you were that kind of Hermian, huh? I have to say, you don’t look like the type.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I did my best to fit in, but never quite got the hang of it.”

  “And yet they trust you, a convicted criminal, with finding their friend?”

  Ward smiled. “I wasn’t always a Hermian, ma’am. Plus, I imagine my convict status made me more appealing to the Chandrasekhars. Less chance of me doing something stupid, jeopardizing my shot at freedom.”

  Finch accepted his explanation with a nod. Ward knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere by lying to Finch. He had little to lose by disclosing the true nature of his arrangements with the Chandrasekhars. If nothing else, he was sure she would appreciate the honesty.

  Finch leaned forward then, resting her chin on her hands, which were now joined in front of her. A gleeful smile crossed her face. “Aren’t you going to ask me the obvious?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t be coy, Mr. Ward,” she snapped. “You know the Gendarmes already probed my organization about this incident. They couldn’t find a thing linking us to it. But your presence here tells me the Chandrasekhars aren’t convinced. Go ahead. Ask me.”

  “Even if I think you weren’t?”

  “Call it a test. Of your sincerity and mine.”

  Ward considered it for a moment. There seemed no point, for precisely the reason she mentioned. The Gendarmerie had already interrogated her. And they had dug through her financial statements, looking for some clue they could have paid someone to bring in the necessary military-grade hardware. But her offer was enticing. If nothing else, he would be able to probe her reaction.

  Leaning forward in his own seat, he looked her directly in the eye, attuned for any changes and micro-expressions. The slightest tic would give her away. “Were you involved?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I had nothing to do with the doctor’s disappearance. I don’t know where he is.”

  There was no sign of deception on her part, but there was something there behind the denial. Her choice of words had been very specific. She wasn’t responsible and was ignorant of his whereabouts. But her answer didn’t happen to include whether she knew of anyone who might be involved.

  His next avenue of approach was now open, which is what he had been hoping for.

  “Okay, I believe you,” Ward replied, leaning back into his seat. “But like I said, someone like you doesn’t get to where you are by not knowing things. You might not have the information I need. I’m sure you know someone who does. Or perhaps, someone who knows someone.”

  Finch smiled and spared a fleeting glance at Nan, who was still staring at Ward with a frozen expression. On the surface, it was clear she was weighing her options, but her body language told him what he needed to know.

  She doesn’t know who nabbed Lee, but she has her suspicions.

  Eventually, her expression went cold, mirroring Nan’s. She looked back at Ward, her mind now made up. “Can I offer you some advice, Mr. Ward?”

  Ward shrugged. “Why not? Most people do.”

  “People like the Chandrasekhars don’t do anything without an ulterior motive. And they don’t make a move without planning several moves ahead. Sadly, it’s why people like them are running this moon, and every other world out this way.”

  Ward frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, if Doctor Lee has remained undiscovered for this long, there must be a reason. No one wants him to be found, and that probably includes your employers. Perhaps you should go home and tell them what they want to hear.”

  “And that is?”

  “That you did your best. That Doctor Lee cannot be found, and never will be found. I imagine that’s what they were hoping for all along.”

  Ward felt a slight chill come over him, and not simply because of her cold expression. “That’s quite the theory, Ms. Finch. Exactly what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing you don’t already suspect, Mr. Ward. You’re not here to find Lee. You’re here to make sure no part of him ever turns up. If he stays gone, nothing bad can ever happen to your employers. But if he surfaces now, and certain things aren’t where they should be, they’ll know they’ve got reason to panic.”

  Finch smiled, but her eyes maintained an icy sheen. At last, they came to it. The one issue neither of them could speak about. The “sensitive materials” Lee had on his person. Ward had skipped over them. And Finch couldn’t raise them without admitting she knew more than she was prepared to admit.

  Dammit, thought Ward. They had reached an impasse at last. And all the while, he had thought he was making progress. Perhaps it was too much to ask that some basic honesty and a direct approach might penetrate her natural distrust of an outsider.

  “You tend to see things in conspiratorial terms, Ms. Finch,” he said finally.

  She leaned in again. “That’s the only way to see things when you’re out this far, Mr. Ward. We don’t have the luxury of sowing the plots, like your employers do. We deal with them as best we can.”

  The door was now closed. Ward knew better than to linger and stood up from the table, excusing himself before taking his leave.

  “Thank you, Ms. Finch, Mr. Nan,” he nodded to them both. “I hope you and your friends enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “You too,” she said to his retreating back. “Have a safe trip home.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Ward’s leg ached for the entire journey back to the hotel. For much of it, medical reports continued to file in from his implants, announcing his bones had undergone a severe stress event and were slowly
being knit back together. He was sure to keep his leg elevated the entire time he was seated aboard the hypertrain. As he got closer to his stop, pain gave way to throbbing, and then to itching. By the time he lay down to sleep, he imagined his leg would be fully repaired.

  Despite this constant reminder, the altercation with Nan was the furthest thing from his mind as he rode home. Earlier that evening, he had gone out hoping to get some information. Nothing groundbreaking, just some scraps which might help him find his way around the wall he had been presented with.

  Instead, he got treated to some rather ugly revelations.

  Finch had a good idea of who had disappeared Doctor Lee. She knew Lee was in possession of some sensitive information, which meant she had to know why he’d been kidnapped in the first place. It was undeniable. For her to be uninvolved, but know that much – it had to mean Lee was targeted for strictly this reason. Whoever they were, they wanted access to what he had in his head.

  The only question was why. What good was that information to them?

  His mind went back to the information Constance had sent him. It had to be in there somewhere. At the same time, it had to have something to do with Amaru’s work.

  Which brought up another problem. Since Amaru had first run him through it, Ward had a sense something was off. As he understood it, Amaru had been called in by the Chandrasekhars to offer her expertise in biochemistry, which consisted of her looking over the core samples taken from Callisto, and the samples of liquid methane taken from Titan, to ensure they weren’t contaminated.

  On a hunch, he called them up again – her reports from Callisto and Titan. In the former case, these consisted of her work at Burr, examining every core sample to ensure it contained the desired levels of volatiles – water, carbon dioxide and ammonia – and the undesired halophiles. In Titan’s case, the sample reports were similar, with reports coming from their extraction sites by the northern lakes – Kraken, Ligeia and Punga Mare – and from the local ice fields as well.

  Here, too, the issue seemed to be one of depth. Depending on where ice was drawn from on Titan, there might be some chance of bacteriological exchange with the planet’s interior, where microbial life was known to exist. The odds of this happening in any way that mattered or posed risk were almost always negligible. Lee had ordered the tests be done and Amaru had obliged him.