DEADLY VOYAGE
A DISTANT GARDEN
GRAY
LANTER
BLUE SHELF BOOKSTORE
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Table of contents
Chapter 1
“There is nothing more exhilarating than to be shot at without result” Winston Churchill once said.
There is great truth in that statement, especially when considering the alternative. Flesh and blood cannot stand up to a speeding, burning piece of lead. Nor can it survive a laser frying muscle and bone with the precision of a surgical scalpel. Of course today we have the advantage over soldiers of the past. The medical nanos jump into action, repairing blood vessels, rebuilding organs and creating new flesh to plug the bullet holes. You’re as good as new if the wound is not too serious. However, when half your body is blown away, there’s little even the nanos can do.
But I’ve never liked using the memory drugs to erase the knowledge of battle wounds. Civilians use memory wipes to cast bad memories into oblivion, and so are able to forget a bad childhood or traumatic events. Not soldiers. You learn hard lessons in battle, and you should remember, not forget, them. A few soldiers use the drugs, but I never have.
But the nanos, as marvelously high-tech as they are, are nature’s liars. I look at my body in the mirror and see no scars, no rough, ragged redness on the pale skin. Nothing to show the wounds I have received. But my mind remembers them. It’s incongruous to view the skin and know it should show the ravages of battle. Some soldiers have a tough emotional time with that.
Eternally young. And eternally waiting for the next battle. Because I’m Genrich, I age very slowly. When I look at my face, my mind tells me I should look older-and wiser for that matter. I guess I might look twenty-five, maybe twenty-seven, but I have lived more years than that.
I have chosen this profession, so I can’t complain. I chose it because, thanks to a combination of genetics and other skills, I am good at it. Of course it always helps to have a cause worth fighting for. In this age of nanobytes and memory drugs, what often matters most are not high-tech skills but rather, as the poet said, the small, often unremembered, acts of kindness.
Which is why I was so proud of the Distinguished Service Medal the Deltans bestowed upon me. After the war they fought with the Critterrans, and knowing that another war was on the horizon, they didn’t have a lot of time for thanks. So the ceremony didn’t take long. The Deltan vice president, an older man (there is no Genrich technology on their planet), awarded me the green ribbon with the gold star. His aged hands trembled slightly as he placed the medal around my neck. He shook my hand and almost cried as he thanked me for helping to save his planet and his people. I was touched. My friends, Commander Rembrante Cleed and Lt. Jade O’Malley, also received the DSM. They’re military professionals, while I’m in a private force and usually work for cash.
The vice president’s statement was, unfortunately, an exaggeration. Yes, we defeated their enemies. But everyone at the ceremony knew the vicious Critterrans would be back. It was only a matter of time. Unlike their enemies, the Deltans are a benevolent race who know and appreciate the concept of honor. Which is another reason I was so pleased with the medal. When honorable men and women present you with an award, it’s well worth keeping. As I said, it’s nice to have something worth fighting for.
Which is why I couldn’t turn Belen down when she offered me a chance to guarantee the planet’s safety.
The mountain winds howled like a drunken banshee and plunked high-powered snow bullets into the windshield. The heat evaporated the snow, only to have a second volley slam the plastic glass. I looked out the window and wondered why Belen desired a mountain home. An ice mountain home.
The transport hummed quietly as it rolled along in the snow. Some people are uncomfortable with driver-less vehicles. But they don't cause me any anxiety. The computer handled the wet, twisting roads like a NASCAR driver. The swirling storm had stripped the leaves from most of the trees. They held up their bare snow-covered branches to the sky, as if to surrender.
Belen and I shared a friendly yet turbulent past, and I wondered why she wanted to see me. I assumed it had something to do with my profession as a soldier-of-fortune. She did have a fortune. A considerable one. Inherited some of it, and built up the rest with talent, genius and hard work, 15-hour-a-day ambition. But she always held her cards close to her chest. She had a penchant for secrecy that annoyed me at times. But when you have built several successful corporations, you probably develop a few annoying tics along the way.
When the car reached the house, the covered driveway zoomed out to meet us. It attached itself to the car door, so that I was protected from the snow and sleet. For a man who has dodged bullets and lasers, I found the architectural convenience a bit amusing.
The door scanner pricked my thumb. It was painless, and cheap for that matter. It would run all the chem and bio tests, but I wouldn’t be billed. The green letters on a black background screen asked, ARE YOU:
(1) Synthetic
(2) An AI
(3) Android
(4) Nano-Mutant
(5) Bio-Artificial
(6) Human
There were a few other classifications after human. Looking at the list I became slightly depressed. The last time I saw such a checklist, humans were listed fourth. The species must be dropping in prestige.
“Genrich human.” I said.
The security computer had a drab, husky voice. “Name?”
“Logan Ryvenbark. I’m expected.”
“Your gun, sir.”
“What about it?”
“Would you please deposit it on the tray?”
“No.”
A silence followed. Perhaps the computer was baffled.
“Then, sir, I cannot let you in.” it finally said.
“Fine.” I said.
I turned around, then heard the feminine voice override.
“Open the door, Norman. Mr. Ryvenbark doesn’t even like to shower without his weapon. This one time we shall indulge him.”
The computer whined and the door clicked open. The house was a two story spacious dwelling just this side of being a mansion. I walked across the palatial front room and climbed the stairs. A robot servant escorted me to a second floor office.
Belen Morganthal rose behind the large ornate desk and walked toward me. She was tall, almost six feet, and wore an elegant black pants suit trimmed with gold. I was surprised by the small gold cross she wore around her neck. She had been raised Catholic, and I wondered if she had returned to her faith. The sparkling brown hair fell across her shoulders. I always thought her voice held something of a military bearing. As she greeted me, I kissed her cheek.
“Thank you for coming, Logan.”
I nodded.
“Please sit down.”
Must be important, I thought. Belen did not usually say “please”. Usually she just issued orders and people obeyed. I eased down into a well-cushioned green chair and crossed my legs. It was a large room w
ith a high ceiling. Deep carpet. The robot bodyguard, white with black trim, stood silent a few feet behind her desk. He could have been a statue except for the menacing aura around him, as palpable as the scent of death on a battlefield. The high, arched windows were not covered with drapes, so you could see the snow-covered mountains. A few evergreens stood a defiant dark green against the white background.
“Good to see you again, Belen. Why did you want to talk to me?”
“I am putting together a small expedition to Vega.”
I admired the brown eyes. Belen had beautiful brown eyes. They sparkled and could hypnotize you. They had a laser intensity that could melt steel. When she made up her mind about an issue, it was impossible to change it. So I didn’t argue with her suicidal assertion.
“Then I wish you well. When you get back, look me up. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll celebrate your good fortune in coming home alive.” I paused for a moment, and my voice dropped. “I sincerely hope you make it back, Belen.”
The steel gaze focused on me. “I am putting together an expedition to Vega and I would like you to be on it.”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you afraid?”
I thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. That enters into it.”
She sniffed the air like a dog reacting to a bad smell. “Nonsense, Logan. You’re not afraid of anything.”
“Then let’s say I’m cautious. Better yet, let’s say I’m intelligent. No intelligent man or woman goes to Vega. And nothing this side of a Black Hole could tug me toward that horrendous pile of rock.”
My hand slipped into my jacket pocket and brought out a packet of thin cigars. I inserted one in my mouth and lit it. I took a deep puff and blew out dark gray smoke.
“Is that all?” She gave a curt smile. “Would money influence you?”
“Might. There’s a chance, but only a slim one. How much money are we talking about?”
“One million dollars.”
That took my breath away. Due to the fact that I had recently volunteered my services, my bank account was low. I needed some ready cash. But I wasn’t sure even a million was worth a trip to Vega.
Belen leaned back in her chair and smiled. I took another puff on the cigar. “You know, those things used to be bad for you” she said.
“So is a trip to Vega.”
She stood up and walked around the desk. She carried a close-cropped efficiency and ran three inter-galactic companies that dealt in just about everything. You have to be efficient, smart, and tough to CEO three huge businesses. She had an incredible, melodic laugh, the most beautiful of all sounds. Belen was also one of the people I trusted most in the world. Being an intergalactic CEO meant that she also had to have a dependable intelligence network. From time to time she had given me valuable information.
She eased her hips on the edge of the black walnut desk and crossed her arms. “We have a long and rather complicated history, Logan.”
“Long, complicated, enjoyable.”
She nodded. “We had many good times.”
“Yes.”
“You are one of the very few people I would trust to accompany me to Vega.”
I bit into the tobacco and leaned back in the chair. Being Genrich meant that my IQ was at the genius level. But that didn't mean I knew everything, or that events couldn't continue to mystify me.
“Belen, why in the world would you want to go to Vega? It’s not a vacation hotspot. A million is tempting, but even then I’m going to refuse.”
She walked over, reached her fingers into my pocket, and pulled out the cigars. She shook the package. When a cigar popped up, she stuck it between her teeth. She motioned to me and I lit it for her. Her first puff blew mentholated smoke into the room.
“Let me show you something…” She then raised her voice. “Jaclyn, would you come in please?”
A door opened in the far wall and a tall, young redhead walked into the room. I caught my cigar as it almost fell from my mouth. The young lady had long, lustrous hair. It reflected the light so that momentarily I thought she had a reddish halo around her head. She looked at me with dark green eyes. The skin was flawless, the milk-white complexion looked immaculate. It had to be natural. No machine was that flawless. Her figure, rich and abundant, would have made robots wish they were human, or at least male. Her smile radiated warmth. I blinked and stood up.
Belen was not an ugly woman. She was quite beautiful. But she paled in comparison to the stunning redhead. Yet the young lady’s beauty was not the major thing that impressed me about her.
“This handsome gentleman is the one I told you about. Logan, meet Jaclyn Astor. Jaclyn, Logan will accompany us to Vega. Doesn’t he look distinguished? That deep black hair.” She walked over and ran her fingers across my jaw. “The black beard stubble. Gives him a ruggedly masculine look, doesn’t it? And a dangerous look.”
The redhead walked up and offered her hand. Her smile convinced me life was not only worth living, but worth celebrating.
“On the contrary. Mr. Ryvenbark looks rather sweet.”
On impulse I didn’t shake her hand, but brought it up to my mouth and kissed her fingers.
“Thank you, Miss Astor. It’s been a long time since anyone called me sweet. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been called sweet.”
“I certainly wouldn’t use that term.” Belen said.
Looking at such a beautiful woman I wondered how the thought nudged into my mind. I was tempted to kneel before her, as a loyal soldier would to a queen.
“Please call me Jaclyn.”
“Call me Logan. You are going to Vega?”
“Yes.”
“Jaclyn, I don’t think Vega is any place for civilians. Well, it’s not a place for anybody.”
She smiled. “Perhaps not, but I need to go.”
“Don’t be impressed by his alleged sweetness. He is much too old for you.” Belen told her.
“How old are you, Logan?”
Usually it was rude to ask someone’s age but the voice held such curiosity and naïve affection that it was impossible to take offense.
“Five hundred and eighty-six. But I look a lot younger. People tell me I don’t look a day over four hundred and twenty.”
Jaclyn laughed and looked at Belen. “He’s not only sweet, he’s witty, too.”
“Yeah, he’s a laugh a minute. Would you please excuse us, Jaclyn? There are other things Logan and I need to talk about.”
“Of course.” She moved away and walked back toward the door. She opened it and disappeared.
I had my cigar clasped between fingers. Belen grabbed it and stuck it back between my lips.
“You can close your mouth now. What do you think of Jaclyn?”
“I’ve never seen anyone like her. Joan of Arc must have given off such an aura. Or maybe the Biblical Eve.”
“Yes, there is an innocence about her, isn’t there?”
“And a strength.”
“Of course. Innocence has strength of its own. Innocence does not mean weakness.”
I shook my head. “Is she Synthetic? Artificial?”
Belen gave me a quizzical look that, roughly translated, meant ‘How could you be so dumb?’
“Of course not. Humans, for all of their flaws and vices, are the only ones who can be so… virginal. No Synthetic or Artificial could project that. That’s one of the traits of the human race. We can be evil and we can be saints.”
Deadly Voyage (Logan Ryvenbark's Saga Book 1) Page 1
