However, it was the best place to do business if one wanted to avoid Union entanglements; docking at Yokkaichi required no ship registration and no identification check.
Massive antennae sprouted from one end, and at the other floated scores of spacecraft waiting to dock. The Trieste had been floating ten kilometers from the station for a day.
“This is ridiculous!” Beckenbaur gestured at the command deck window. “We could be here for a week!”
“Money talks at a place like this, Doctor,” Talbot said.
“Yeah, it also makes you a target.” He sighed. “How much?”
“I’ll find out.” She tapped at her console and a twelve digit alphanumeric code appeared on the HUD. “Nick? Open up an encrypted channel to this station node.”
A double-tone sounded several times while the window turned opaque. A face appeared on the HUD. To Beckenbaur the creature looked like a toad, with fat lips and bulging green eyes. A fat cigar stuck out of the alien’s mouth. “Talbot!”
“Hello Wabi. You keeping out of trouble?”
“Of course not! Nice to see your pretty face. You picking up or dropping off?”
“Picking up. Look, we need to dock ASAP. Can you help?”
“Of course I can help. Ten grand up front, then two thousand a day.”
“Holy fuck!” Beckenbaur cried.
“I take it he’s the money. Look, skinny, I don’t see much of this. To dock at a safe location takes bribes. You can always go EVA and enter through an airlock. Much cheaper that way. If it makes you feel any better, the fee includes me as a guide.”
Talbot looked at Beckenbaur. “No EVA; not if we need to make a quick getaway.”
“All right, God damn it! Let me punch in the transfer codes. We shouldn’t be here more than a day.”
Wabi chuckled. “That’s what they all say.” The alien’s image disappeared.
“What the fuck is Wabi?”
“A baggat,” Talbot replied.
“Can we trust it?”
“I’ve dealt with Wabi before and haven’t had any problems.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question, does it?”
The Trieste docked in an old cargo container, the interior unpressurized, a narrow boom connecting the Trieste to a docking collar. Beckenbaur looked out the window. “This is safe?”
“How do you want to do this, Doctor?” Talbot asked. “Who are you meeting with?”
“Heather and I will need the twins, for sure, and anyone else you can spare.”
“Nick and Jerrit will stay here and keep the ship prepped. Krenlar needs to get us refueled and work on repairs, so Jake and I will come along. Do you have a firearm?”
“Of course I do.”
Heather, Bandele, Jake, and the twins met them at the docking collar. Heather handed him a blaster pistol, and Beckenbaur saw that both she and Bandele were armed. The twins and Jake had blaster rifles slung over their shoulders.
The docking boom was narrow, so they had to crouch. When the inner airlock door opened, Beckenbaur saw a fat alien standing about a meter high. The creature had greasy looking pale green skin and dark eyes, and puffed on a large cigar. It wore a faded and stained pair of coveralls and a holster with a large blaster pistol.
“Talbot!” the baggat cried and opened its arms. “Introduce me to your friends!”
She looked at Beckenbaur and he nodded. “This is Mr. Hans Brecht and his companions,” she said, “and you already know Jake and the twins. Any Imps around?”
“Officially? No, but every second dope fiend and pick pocket is probably on the payroll.” Wabi turned to Beckenbaur. “So, Mr. Hans Brecht? What’ll it be?”
“The Starlight Lounge.”
“Right this way. Stay close, and don’t get distracted.”
Beckenbaur tapped his pockcomp and then leaned close to the twins. “Turn on your pockcomps and record our route.”
The interior of the station was dark, smoky, smelly, and a veritable maze. At first, it was a fight to push through the crowd, but the passage soon opened up a little. The baggat led them through numerous cargo containers welded together at all angles, down the cargo bay of an ancient shuttlecraft, through an old space liner, and along the long empty tank of an old freighter. Passages and ducts led in all directions, and everywhere were hommies: suited astronauts, women and children, well-armed and armored mercenary soldiers, addicts shooting up in the open, fat hommies in colorful tunics, tall and thin hommies in turbans, and painfully thin beggars. More than once, they had to step over an unconscious or dead body, and Beckenbaur didn’t want to find out which.
“Someone should blow this place up,” one of the twins said.
“Why?” the other answered. “It keeps all of the scumbags in one place.”
Wabi led them through a large open airlock into the central cylinder of the station. Open elevators moved up and down the center past the wide balconies on the edge. Thousands of little shops crowded on the balconies, and Beckenbaur heard the cries of an army of hawkers, selling everything from food and water to batteries.
They stepped into an elevator and, with stern stares and brandished weapons, managed to exclude any strangers.
Talbot stepped close to Beckenbaur. “Who are we meeting?” she whispered. Beckenbaur looked at her and said nothing. She stared at him for a long moment, and then turned away.
The elevator stopped at the top and they emerged into a large open dome. Thick conduits and ducts ran down the center and sides of the dome, the whole reinforced with beams and girders. The hommies here seemed to be a little cleaner and better dressed. Shops and restaurants lined the edge of the dome, while in the center, around the central conduits, hung a large balcony. A flashy neon sign above the balcony spelled out THE STARLIGHT LOUNGE in stylized letters.
Beckenbaur leaned close to the twins and tapped his pockcomp. “Remember what we talked about?”
“Gotchya, Doc.” They disappeared into the crowd.
“Where are they going?” Talbot asked.
“Overwatch duty. Let’s go.” Beckenbaur climbed the curved staircase up to the lounge and the others followed.
“This is just a bar,” Heather said.
“I chose it as the meeting place the last time I was here,” Beckenbaur said. “It’s nice and open. So, take a seat and relax. They’ll be here any moment, I’m sure.”
“Who will be here any moment?” Talbot asked, looking directly at him.
“You’re gonna find out soon enough.”
Beckenbaur saw Wabi wander off to the bar and talk to the bartender. The hommies in the lounge were of a diverse sort, from many different worlds. He saw three figures in black trench coats and hats top the stairs and scan the crowd. They spotted Beckenbaur and approached the table. Beckenbaur stood, followed by the others.
As they approached, Beckenbaur spotted the telltale signs of his guests: thin gray, black, and silver lines covered the smooth skin on their faces, and their artificial eyes glowed with a bright green light.
Jake looked at Beckenbaur. “You’re doing business with the Nano Mob?” he whispered. “Fuck!”
“I see our reputation precedes us,” one of the mobsters said as he took a seat at the table. The other two remained standing, their hands hidden in the pockets of their trench coats. Beckenbaur and the others sat.
The mobster took out a small case, opened it, took out a cigarette and placed it in his lips. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned flame and lit it. “Good. I see tech smuggler Caroline Talbot is here, so the Trieste must be also. And who can overlook William Bandele, formerly a prisoner on the world of Akaisha, and now a fugitive from the Union Security Service? Then there is Dr. Heather Ferrel, one of the few survivors of the Anuvi Incident, and I compute a 79.3% chance Mr. Hans Brecht’s lover. Shall I order a round of drinks?” Before waiting for a reply, one of the other mobsters went to the bar.
“I am Jak Morlak, Lineage 1453.” He looked at each of them with his bright gree
n eyes and smiled. “This information was very expensive. The GID locked up any data related to the Cerilia System, including its location, in ‘31. As a consequence, the price just went up.”
“What?”
“The GID killed thirteen of our members while we obtained this information. Plus, we did a little research on you, Mr. Hans Brecht. Or should I call you Dr. Hans Beckenbaur?”
Beckenbaur tried to show no surprise, but judging from the mobster’s reaction, he was unsuccessful.
The mobster smirked and tapped his head. “I’ve got it all here.” His green eyes shifted back and forth as he spoke. “Born in 3600 on Rutana to Dr. Stephen Beckenbaur and Dr. Frieda Brecht. No siblings. Father is a geologist and sits on the board of Corcannen Metals on Rutana; mother was an astrophysicist and completed four tours with the Exploration Service; during her fifth tour, she disappeared with the Sirius in ‘31. You completed your PhD in geology at the age of 23 and began lecturing at Milidas Polytechnic on Rutana. Obtained rank of full professor at the age of 26. Completed two missions with the Exploration Service. The GID sealed the records of the last mission in ‘33, but rumors abound, Dr. Beckenbaur, very interesting rumors.” He paused for a moment, eyes fluttering, and then continued. “Resigned from Milidas Polytechnic in ‘35. From there records are spotty: visits to Akaisha, here on Yokkaichi, and a few other worlds in the Justified Conquest over the next thirteen years, but it seems you mainly stuck around Rutana.” He smiled. “Oh, and you own half a percent of Corcannen Metals. You are rich, my good doctor. Filthy rich.”
“All right,” Beckenbaur sighed. “What’s your price?”
“Thirty-two million; not negotiable.”
“Thirty two! That’s more than ten times the initial price!”
“Yokkaichi has a QBD node, Dr. Beckenbaur. The transfer of such a large amount shouldn’t take more than three of four days. Give us your credentials and you will receive the information you seek.”
The mobster returned from the bar with a pitcher of booze and several glasses. “Piňa colada?” Jake asked.
“It’s my favorite,” Morlak replied. “So, what do you say, Dr. Beckenbaur?”
Fuck! “I guess you’ve got a deal.”
“Excellent.” He pulled out a pockcomp. “Please enter your credentials and the amount here. I will take care of the rest.” He paused and smiled. “Don’t worry; you can trust me not to hack your account.”
Beckenbaur typed in his account number, login and the amount. Morlak touched the pockcomp, and then stared at the wall, his green eyes shifting back and forth. “There.” He took a slim pockcomp out of his pocket and handed it to Beckenbaur. “All of the information you just purchased is on this device.”
Several of the other hommies in the bar, over a dozen, stood and began to shout. They pulled blasters from hidden holsters and pointed them at everyone sitting at the table. Beckenbaur and the others slowly raised their hands.
“You set me up!” Morlak hissed. “That’s just not possible!”
“No he didn’t, and yes it is.” A man in a plain black suit jacket and tie approached the table and lowered his weapon. He looked young, with a clean-shaven face and wavy hair.
Beckenbaur was pissed. I’ve sacrificed so much to get this information. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Agent Galomé, General Intelligence Directorate.”
“There is no way you could know we would be here!” Morlak cried.
“We cracked your encryption years ago, freak. We only use the knowledge we hack from your network selectively.” Galomé looked at Beckenbaur. “These traitors have been selling information to the Naati for decades. Sometimes we disrupt the sale, sometimes we don’t, depending on the information. Sometimes we even give them disinformation to sell. But, enough about me. You, Dr. Beckenbaur, have just purchased classified information on the black market. You also have in your possession the only copy of Dr. Batista’s template; the template she used for translating information in DNA to the galactic coordinates needed to locate Harbinger artifacts.” He held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
Beckenbaur pointed at Galomé, and the agent’s head exploded in a shower of bone, blood and brains.
Good shot, boys!
Beckenbaur pushed over his chair and rolled under the table. Shouts and the pulse and ping of blaster fire echoed throughout the dome. Beckenbaur wiped the blood and bone off his face and saw Morlak kneeling under the table.
“That insufferable prick got what he deserved,” Morlak said as he pulled a blaster pistol from his coat. “Was that one of yours?” He fired at one of the GID agents.
“Two, actually.” Beckenbaur shot at another agent diving behind the bar. He saw Talbot and Jake behind another overturned table; they fired at several other agents. Ferrel and Bandele huddled beneath the bar, and Bandele peppered the agents on the other side of the balcony with several shots. Wabi poked his head above the bar and took a shot.
The other two mobsters knelt; each had pulled a short-barreled blaster rifle from under his coat and sprayed the room with fire. Force fields around their bodies shimmered when hit with blaster bolts.
“The Tyce twins, no doubt. I wondered where they were.” Morlak shot at an agent diving behind a chair. “In return, I’d like to help you out.” He fired at another GID agent. “Who knows how many of these fucks are on this station.”
“Thanks.” Beckenbaur fired again. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m docked at this end of Yokkaichi.” Morlak fired and hit an agent that just popped up from behind a chair. “Once we get on board the Starsilver, we’ll get you on the Trieste.”
“Talbot!” Beckenbaur cried. “Get the Trieste moving!”
“Looks like most of them are on the far side of the balcony, and my boys’ shields are going to run out soon.” Morlak took another shot.
“Hey, Doc!” Beckenbaur’s pockcomp chirped. “There’s a bunch more goons coming up the elevators.”
“Keep them occupied. We’ll take care of this end.”
“Gotchya, Doc!”
“Down the stairs and to the left, straight down the passage.” Morlak said. “Okay?”
“Got it.”
Morlak looked at the other two mobsters and paused for a moment. He then stood up and the three of them each tossed a large table at the far end of the balcony, more than ten meters away. The tables crashed into the rail, crushing some of the agents. The others scattered out of the way looking for cover.
“Let’s go!” Beckenbaur yelled. He stood and fired while Talbot and the others dashed for the stairs. He saw blaster fire from two locations high in the dome strike near the elevators just as the doors opened. “To the left and down the passage! Move!” Talbot, Jake and Wabi covered Heather and Bandele as they ran into the passage.
“What about the twins?” Talbot said as Beckenbaur ran by.
He tapped his pockcomp. “Okay boys, get down here. We’ll cover you.”
“On our way, Doc.”
Beckenbaur and the three mobsters knelt and fired at the elevators. Talbot and Jake stood behind and fired. Bodies blocked the elevator doors from closing. C’mon guys!
The twins appeared and ran into the passage.
“Go!” Morlak said. Beckenbaur turned and followed his companions down the passage. Hommies shrank away from them against the wall. At the end stood two more mobsters in black trench coats. They motioned Beckenbaur and his companions through a narrow docking boom and into an airlock. The five mobsters entered the ship, Morlak the last.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you see the rest of the Starsilver,” the mobster said, “but we’ll rendezvous with the Trieste and get you on your way.” He paused, his green eyes shifting back and forth. “There’s a frigate closing in; I’ll need to leave you. But first, we wouldn’t have found out about the Imps breaking our encryption if it wasn’t for this meeting. That information is worth billions and payment enough. I therefore absolve you of your monetary debt to me.”
Morlak touched Beckenbaur’s pockcomp. “In the future, if you need help, send a message across the QBD network to me using this device.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The mobster stepped into the ship.
“I gotta go, sweetheart,” Wabi said. It pinched Talbot’s bottom and she glared at him. “‘Til next time! And I hope we have as much fun!” The Wabi waddled back through the docking boom. The airlock door closed.
“So, can someone please tell me what the hell just happened?” Bandele sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.
“I purchased the location of the planet Cerilia IV,” Beckenbaur replied, “a world quarantined by the Exploration Service and the GID soon after our mission on the Bering.”
“Now what?” Talbot asked. “Do we need to run another blockade?”
“Maybe. I told you it would be dangerous.”
“Man, I love my job,” one of the twins said with a huge grin on his face.
Cortez
Cortez looked out the window of the shuttle. His own reflection, the mirror face, looked back at him. He observed the largest number of ships he had ever seen, The Borrega Test Task Force, assembling in the L2 point of a small gas giant located in the Eiding Forward Deployment Area. Not only were there two of the eleven hundred meter long Archangel class heavy battleships, Cortez saw three Titan class battleships, a dozen Korla and Montmorency class heavy cruisers, two Consul class heavy carriers, four Midway class light carriers, and scores of other ships: light cruisers, destroyers, frigates, tenders, supply ships, hospital ships, and couriers. Formations of Spear and Drakken fighters flew exercises around the larger ships. This was just the Battle and Support components of the task force. The Assault component had just arrived: these cruisers, destroyers, and frigates would ensure orbital superiority over Borrega, cover the Marine assault ships and the Army regimental transports as they made the drop to the surface, and provide orbital strike support to units on the surface.
The Borrega Test Page 27
