by Darren Beyer
“We’re looking for—” Jans began, but Mandi put a hand on his arm.
“We’re looking for cargo,” she said. “We dropped our shipment and were supposed to meet a long-haul carrier for our return load, but with the hyperium shortage, it didn’t make it. We thought we could make a good profit by picking up something here.”
“We just went through a coil refit,” Jans added awkwardly. “We figured what we could pick up would be worth the price of an extra jump.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ennis shook his head. “There’s plenty of inbound cargo stacking up, but you might have a hard time picking up a contract. The word is, a war is in the making back home. Credit is worthless, and even currency isn’t good for much right now. Barter is what fills cargo holds. Without something to trade, you’ll be leaving empty-handed. If I might suggest, there are other outposts within jump distance. It’s probably worth the price to get back on your ship and jump out to somewhere else.”
“So quick to see us off?” Jans said. His voice carried a sharpness Mandi had seldom heard.
“I’m simply trying to avoid any unnecessary, shall we say… inconvenience.” The governor turned to leave. “You won’t find anything here.”
“We may not have any cargo,” Mandi said to his back, “but we’ve got hyperium. Our old coils. We kept them after the refit. They’re worn, but they still have a few jumps in them.”
The governor stopped, half-turned his head, and raised an interested eyebrow. Mandi caught Jans cocking his head and casting a similar look.
The governor’s face showed no other expression as he stood unmoving for several long seconds. Then: “My standard fee is five percent on any trade.” He again turned to leave, but this time he waved a hand. “You’ll need a place to stay. Follow me.”
The governor and his two guards led Jans and Mandi down a snaking corridor, past the interior doors to the numerous cargo locks they’d passed on the way in. The walls were dirty with grime, the floor worn with use. Half the lights were either out or dimming, adding to the dingy look of the complex.
At an intersection, the governor stopped and turned to face them. “Last chance.”
Jans stood tall. “We’d like to stay for a bit.”
Ennis raised a dismissive eyebrow. “It’s your life.”
Chapter 20: Eridani
Keep space free! Keep space free!”
The chant echoed off the stone floors as Erik entered Andrews’s office. Andrews had his back to the door, his attention focused on a holo screen playing the latest news feed from Earth. An angry crowd holding an assortment of homemade and printed signs was chanting and pumping their fists. Across the bottom of the screen the banner read: “Protests Erupt at United Nations.” The camera panned to show police in riot gear holding transparent shields protecting the front of the General Assembly building from the enraged crowd.
“Unrest has grown in intensity in recent weeks,” a woman reported over the screams of the crowd, “over the hyperium shortage and the limits it has placed on free travel outside of our solar system. Reports of shortages in food and essential supplies from some colonies and outposts, driven by the unplanned grounding of interstellar cargo ships, has fueled anger. Earlier today, Ambassador Chin, the Pan Asian representative to the United Nations, addressed the assembly.”
The scene shifted to a heavy-set, middle-aged Asian man standing at a podium bearing a United Nations seal.
“Space travel, most importantly interstellar travel, must be available to all nations. The people and countries of the Pan Asian Alliance strongly condemn the manner in which the Applied Interstellar Corporation—and with it, the world’s hyperium supply—was unlawfully annexed. The Interstellar Access Treaty of 2094 guarantees all nations a supply of hyperium— yet now, after the Euramerican Coalition perpetuated its illegal act, the flow of hyperium has ceased, placing at risk countless citizens who reside outside of our solar system. Even putting aside these despicable actions, surely enough time has passed that any disruption should be remedied. So I ask the members of the Coalition delegation: Where is the hyperium? What scenario could possibly justify blatant disregard of interstellar law? Is this a prelude to some greater action?”
The screen shifted back to the on-air reporter.
“You can see that the Pan Asian Alliance is ratcheting up its rhetoric and pressure against the Coalition government. And they aren’t the only ones. We have some breaking news just now coming in. According to multiple sources, the Pan Asian Alliance has evidence that hyperium is being shipped out of this system—in direct violation of interstellar accords.”
Andrews switched off the holo screen. “The Pan Asian Alliance.” He didn’t turn his chair to face Erik. “How did they find out about your plan to move hyperium out of the Sol system?”
The slight emphasis on the word “your” was not lost on Erik.
“One of our freighters, the Sudak Bay—one we used for the operation—experienced a hydrogen leak in its HPE system. Evidently it reached critical concentration in the engineering section and detonated. Rather than contacting our emergency response team, the captain put out a general distress call on the open emergency frequency. A Pan Asian corvette, the Fushun, was closest, and responded.”
Andrews turned his chair to face Erik. “This is precisely the kind of PR we don’t need right now.”
“Perhaps we can use this to our advantage,” Erik said. He felt Andrews scrutinizing him. “This incident will raise tensions between the Coalition and the Alliance—and Eastern Bloc will not be pleased either. They will deploy their home fleets in the Sol system.”
“And the president will be all over my ass.”
“To get his fleet home. Any inclination he may have to leave forces behind will be lessened.”
Andrews glared at him. “You better be right—and you better have a good story to support it all.”
Erik shot him a questioning look.
“Pan Asian has requested an in-person meeting. I’m sure Eastern Bloc will follow suit. This is your mess. You’re going to take point on these meetings.”
Erik clenched his jaw in annoyance. “When will they send their representatives?”
“The Pan Asian one is already here. I believe you know him.”
Andrews reached into his holo screen and opened a 3D image. A man with a cleanly shaved head stared out of the screen.
“Wu Li,” Erik said.
“Wu Li,” Andrews echoed. “We both know how much of a problem he can become. Keep him happy. Keep him out of my business.”
Chapter 21: Eridani
Raymus.”
With his mind in a painful fog, Grae struggled for consciousness.
“Grae. Grae! Can you hear me?”
White light filtered to orange through his eyelids, and shadows played across them, like leaves backlit by a setting sun. Hands clapped nearby.
“Grae, snap out of it!”
Grae struggled to open his eyes. The light that broke through pierced like daggers, and he clenched them shut again.
“Grae, I need you to open your eyes.”
Again, he tried—and again, the light bored through. Shielding his face with his hand, he tried to look around—tried to understand where he was and who was talking to him. Slowly he brought his hand away, squinting to bring his vision into focus.
Smooth cement walls backed equipment and supplies. A tank next to his gurney supplied oxygen to a mask on his face. Wires from a bank of medical devices connected to sensors at various points on his body. A man and woman stood over him, clad in hospital white.
“Doc?” Grae laid his head back with a groan. “Ivey? Where am I?”
“You’re in medical,” Ivey said, leaning in.
“In the ops base?”
She nodded. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit.” Grae raised his hand to rub the side of his head and felt a bandage where his hair should have been. “What the hell happened?”
“Why don’t you
recover a bit first, then we’ll go through all that.”
Grae thought back to his last lucid moment. “The medical tent. Pain in my head. What the hell hit me?”
“You had an aneurism,” Doc said.
“We can go through that later,” Ivey scolded Doc, then turned back to Grae. “You need to rest.”
“I want to go through it now,” Grae said. “Our people in the cargo carrier—the same thing happened to them?”
Doc nodded.
“What did this?”
“Grae, Ivey is right. You need to rest.”
“I can’t afford to rest. And speaking of time, I need to get a message to Helios ASAP.” Grae tried to sit up, and a bolt of pain shot through his head.
“Grae.” Ivey put her hands on his shoulders and forced him back down to his bed. “You’re not ready to do anything right now. Tell me what you need to send. I’ll contact them for you.”
“The message…” Grae winced as the pain intensified. “I sent a message from the m-base. If they act on it, then they’re sending people to a meeting. But the communications system must have been compromised when I sent it. That’s how they found me—it has to be. If Jans sends people to the meeting, they’re walking into a trap.”
“Oh, shit.” Ivey grimaced.
“What?”
“Helios got your message. They already sent a mission.”
“What? How is that possible? I just sent—”
“You almost died. We’ve had you in a medically induced coma for weeks.”
“My God.” Again, pain shot through Grae’s head. “We’ve got to find a way to warn them.”
“Grae, there’s more.” Ivey’s face was wrenched with worry. “The people who went…”
“Jans was with them.” Grae asked as much as said.
Ivey nodded. “And Mandi.”
Chapter 2 2: Ouriscen Station
Jans threw his pack on the top bunk as he and Mandi entered their quarters. Mandi tried to slide the door shut behind them, but it caught just before it completely closed, and she had to put her shoulder into it. In the lower gravity of the moon, her feet slid across the floor, and she had to brace one against the jamb.
She wrinkled her nose as she turned into the room. It smelled of old sweat and something oddly metallic, mixed with a trace of urine. The walls were gray with dust and wear. In the few square feet where one could actually step, the floor was worn and almost white, fading to darker along the outside and almost to black along the edges. In a nook, a tiny, filthy toilet and wash basin were partially obscured behind a flimsy screen.
“Not exactly the Ritz.” Jans’s attempt at levity did nothing to make Mandi feel better about the situation. “Hopefully we won’t have to be here long. The quicker we find our contact, and get to Nassir, the quicker we get out of here.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Jans,” Mandi said, putting her pack on the lower bunk, “but I don’t think this is exactly your cup of tea. Did you catch the look on the governor’s face when he saw us? It was obvious. Ennis recognized you. Others will, too. Not to mention, you carry yourself too well. You stick out like a sore thumb.”
“And you don’t?”
Mandi sat on her bunk and pulled off her shoes, followed by her light gray pants. Jans averted his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Relax.” Mandi motioned toward the toilet with her eyes. “We’re going to be getting to know each other pretty well over the next few days. This is nothing.”
“I thought I’d just leave the room…”
“Please.” Mandi shook her head.
She stood and removed her jacket as well, then rubbed both garments against the wall until they took on a patina of gray grime. As she put them back on, she mussed her hair and straightened her shirt with her dirty hands.
“I am—was—a reporter. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s fitting in. And people like to tell me things, even when they don’t want to talk.”
“This isn’t the safest of places for—”
Mandi cut him off. “For a woman?” She let out an angry sigh.
Jans shot her a look that projected his annoyance. “No, for one of us to be out there alone.”
“Don’t worry.” Mandi thought back to some of the assignments she’d taken in war-torn regions on Earth. “I’ve been to worse. Besides, the directions say we’re supposed to go to what looks like a bar. I’ll initiate contact and come right back. Nothing extra.”
“Do you remember the pass phrases and how to engage?”
“Yeah, but I may need a stiff drink first.”
The placard on the wall designated the eating establishment as “Food and Beverage Dispensary 3A,” but the crudely made sign above it displayed the name “Avery’s.” Like every other area of Ouricsen Station, it was painted with the same dust and grime that adorned Mandi’s quarters, a look made even more pronounced by the dim lighting.
Few of the tables in the middle of the floor were occupied. Most of the patrons, their dark eyes alert and piercing, sat with their backs against walls at tables lining the periphery. The few women in the area appeared to size Mandi up as if she were an opponent, and the men eyed her as if she were prey. Mandi had been to some rough spots, but none had put her senses on such high alert. One man with a long scar across one eye and down his cheek fixed his gaze on her and didn’t pull it away. She had to tread lightly, more carefully than she ever had before.
She resisted the urge to wipe the barstool clean before she took a seat. As the bartender approached, there was no sense of welcoming on his face or in his voice.
“What do you want?”
“Scotch, neat.”
“We’ve got synthetic.”
“I’d rather have Dewar’s.” Mandi placed a cash card on the counter.
The bartender paused, looking her in the eye, before turning away and pulling a less-than-sparkling glass from a shelf under the bar. He placed it in front of Mandi and filled it with a vaguely amber-colored liquid from an unlabeled bottle. “A splash of water helps it go down.” He added a few drops, then took the cash card.
“Keep it.” The bartender nodded, then returned to wiping down glasses with his dirty rag.
Mandi raised the glass to her mouth and took a sip. It was all she could do to keep from gagging, but a single cough made it out as she swallowed the noxious liquid. The bartender pretended not to notice. For a few seconds, Mandi watched him, then she placed her glass back on the counter.
“Do you have anything else?”
The bartender finished with the glass he held, then placed it under the bar, holding Mandi’s gaze as he did so. As he straightened, he gave a slight shake of his head and shifted his eyes to something behind her. When his eyes again settled on her, she saw fear within.
“You need to leave, now.” He spoke quietly.
Mandi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She picked up her drink and downed it in a single gulp, wincing as it burned her throat. As she slid off her seat, she resisted the urge to look around the room, and she didn’t need to. She could feel all the eyes locked squarely on her, and one of them, she was sure, belonged to Scarface. As slowly as she could manage, she sauntered toward the exit.
She wasn’t a meter past the door, and out of sight of Scarface, when her saunter changed to a brisk walk. And as soon as she’d turned the first corner on the way back to her room, she broke into a run, made awkward in the low gravity of the moon.
Mandi couldn’t sleep. Between her lumpy mattress, the pervasive metallic smell of the complex, and the disturbing vision of Scarface and the others in the bar, she couldn’t clear her mind. When the door chime sounded just past midnight local, she jumped from her bed, alert, frightened, and ready for a fight all at once. Jans was a little slower to rise, but he was no less wary. Mandi walked to the intercom.
“Yes?” There was no answer. “Who’s there?” Again, no answer.
Jans motioned for her to step to the side, and
he took a position directly in front of the door, his clicker in hand.
“Open it just a bit,” he whispered.
Mandi released the lock and yanked the door open a few centimeters. Jans slid his head from side to side, trying to get a glimpse of who was there. When no one appeared, he moved closer and craned his neck to get a better view.
“I don’t see anyone,” he whispered.
Then his eyes were drawn downward, and he reached through the narrow opening and retrieved a brown envelope. As soon as his hand was back inside the room, Mandi slammed the door shut and set the lock. It was only then she realized she’d been holding her breath the entire time.
Jans opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. As he read it, his eyes narrowed. Then he handed it to Mandi.
Cargo bay 3, 0300.
Chapter 23: Eridani
Mister Hallerson,” said Andrews’s assistant through the comm. “Mister Wu Li has arrived.”
“Have him wait for me in conference room seven. I will be up shortly.”
As Erik closed his comm, Karis, who had been studying patient records on a holo screen in Erik’s darkened office, looked up at him.
“You should spend more time in your office on the top floor. More face time leads to less suspicion.”
“I have no need for such useless luxuries. Not anymore.” Erik scanned his array of holo screens. Dozens adorned the walls, desks, and standalone mounts he’d installed. They displayed video, data streams, news feeds, and all other manner of pertinent information. “Besides, a setup like this on mahogany row would draw more suspicion than my presence would soothe. And I need a setup like this.”
He reached into his main holo screen and accessed the feed from a conference room. The feed showed his assistant leading Wu Li inside and offering him a seat and a drink. The bald Chinese man declined and glided over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New Reykjavik and the nearby coastline. The man moved like one of Erik’s own—graceful, deadly. A potential threat. He also represented a lynchpin that needed to be placed just so.
