Weeds of Eden

by Christopher D Schmitz

  He flipped through the pages. "Anyone can do this job. I only kill individuals for pleasure. There is no sport in this kill."

  "You do not need to enjoy it," the woman hissed. "But you must make sure it goes according to plan. A new plant child is born... a seedling of New Eden. Our sources have confirmed its genetics--it is somehow Arbolean. You will kill Jai Janus and collect the child from his possessions."

  "Fine," Austicon snapped.

  Her stern gaze remained upon the hardened killer. "This is a surgical strike, Austicon. In and out. Do not make a production out of this; it is work, not play."

  Austicon glared at her. "I will complete my mission, priestess," he said, "but I will do it my way."

  She held her gaze. "You have your orders. If you don't follow them and you are captured we will not come to your aid. Eliminate Jai and deliver the helpless seed to the holy ones. You have your orders." The old woman turned her back on him and shambled out the way she had come. She paused momentarily at the portal, "and for both our sakes, next time we send you a messenger, don't kill him."

  Fuming, Austicon desperately wanted to murder her--but he knew that he could not... not yet, anyways. He was bound to the circle, as was she.

  The research lab fell quiet. Too silent--his team had witnessed the entire exchange; the woman had made him look weak in front of them. Austicon retrieved a high powered handgun from a desk drawer and shot his nearest man in the head, splattering blood all over the villain's face. Oh, how I missed the violence.

  Panic erupted as his devotees panicked and tried to flee--but the only door was where the priestess had exited. Each clamoring for the door, they lined up his shots perfectly, allowing him to easily murder anyone who had witnessed the conversation.

  Silence resumed moments later. Austicon picked up a communicator and clicked it on. "Leviathan. Arrange a meeting with our pirate friends. We have a new objective on Io."

  Leviathan did not respond, but Austicon knew he'd heard him. Leviathan was always listening. More than any other creature in existence, Leviathan loved him.

  He clicked his communicator again. "And gather the Druze. I'll satisfy the old crone, but we'll do this my way."

  Prognon Austicon grinned wickedly and turned a body over with his foot. Imagining the face of his longtime enemy, Dekker Knight, he gleefully pumped the remaining bullets into the nearest body.

  #

  Dekker galloped down the stairs and towards his team where they'd assembled. Shin mingled with some of his crew as their leader waved the work order.

  "Got us a job, everyone. Pays well, too, for what it is. It's a simple transport."

  "Mustache" Sam, an old soldier who'd been with Dekker since day one piped up. "What's the catch?" He curled the edge of famous mustache and spoke in a steady drawl.

  Dekker bit his lower lip. "Some of us may not like the passenger: a Krenzin negotiator sent to mediate a miners strike on Io's Halabella outpost." He glanced sidelong at his business partner, Vesuvius.

  Jamba brightened up at the news. Io had some decent, independent casinos established to entertain the miners. Typically, the most dangerous part of the job was boredom, when it wasn't bullets, at least.

  Vesuvius bristled and pursed her lips at the info, but kept otherwise silent. Her hatred of the felinoid alien race was widely known and given for good reasons.

  Dekker continued, "Sorry to drop our work on you, Shin, but duty calls. It won't be a long mission, though, and you're free to..."

  "I'd love to join you," he interrupted. "I don't get off-world much and this is the perfect opportunity to see the world's greatest team of Investigators at work." He grinned.

  Mustache chuckled behind him. "Hey kid, those guys are on the other side of Reef City. You must've made a wrong turn."

  "Sorry about the Krenzin thing, guys," Dekker said as he walked closer. "I don't understand why Halabella Corp keeps hiring them," he lied. It wasn't difficult to find the political motivation on the corp's behalf. The cat-like race had made a mess of the Mother Earth Aggregate's politics ever since their inclusion and emigration to Earth. Even worse, their ideologies had ruined Dekker's life long before he met Shin and the Muramasas. "Skids up in two hours."

  Part bounty hunter, part mercenary, part armed tour guide, Investigators didn't always get to choose what kind of jobs they would be offered--and they needed to work. Many other crews never distinguished between distasteful and evil and that gave the profession a bad name.

  "At least it's not immoral work," Trigger shrugged. He winked with an eye branded by a long, vertical scar. "Everyone knows that's why I joined this crew--had enough of the kind of work that keeps me up at night. Ferrying a kitty-cat around... how hard could that be?"

  Dekker threw an arm around Vesuvius. "You gonna be okay with this?"

  She stiffened. "Just don't expect me to make small talk."

  "Yeah..." Dekker trailed off, thinking of his own vendetta against them, of the ones he lost... of her. "I don't blame you. Not at all."

  Vesuvius kept a blank face and walked off. "Let's just get paid and get on with it."

  Shin watched her go and kept his voice low. "I see you still haven't told her about... you know who?"

  Dekker shook his head. He hadn't even told Guy.

  Shin paused until everyone else had drifted well beyond earshot. "You know how she feels about you, right?"

  Dekker shrugged slightly. "I think so."

  His friend shook his head. "If you only think so then you really don't. But I get it--your father was the last Watchman and the Watchmen had a ton of secrets... just don't get so used to keeping them that you forget about everyone else." He clapped Dekker on the arm.

  "You're a real pain in the rear, you know that--just like your old man?"

  Shin shrugged and grinned. Master Muramasa had never hidden his desire to see the two together. "Yeah well... what goes around comes around," he called out as he walked away to find his cousin.

  "You're still mad about the time I ruined your wedding? She was an assassin who was hired to kill you!"

  Shin shouted back with a laugh, "Don't judge our love!" He flashed his friend a grin and then turned a corner leaving Dekker alone with only his thoughts and a preflight checklist.

  #

  "Come in," Prognon Austicon slid the door open to make way for the stout, ash-skinned alien. "Glad you could arrive so soon. Time is of the essence."

  The Shivan pirate captain stepped over the cold bodies of Austicon's guards who still littered the entry.

  "My apologies, Gr'Narl. I haven't had time to tidy up." Austicon beckoned the shorter alien over to the hookah set in the comfort area of his subterranean quarters.

  The couch creaked under Gr'Narl's weight. Shivan's were notoriously heavy with heavy muscle and dense bone mass developed by the species native to a high gravity planet. "Blood doesn't bother me," he growled with his low, guttural voice, "especially not when there is incentive in it for the Gr clan."

  Austicon reached for the hookah pipe and took a deep draw. "There is indeed, Gr'Narl. And so much more."

  Gr'Narl's pate shifted back, wrinkling the skin on either side of his jet black widow's peak as if he had arched his eyebrows. "What is the job?"

  "A simple transport smuggle, as far as your end goes."

  "The cargo?"

  Austicon smiled and took another drag, bubbling the water in the hookah's base.

  "You are the cargo," Gr'Narl smiled and took the pipe on his side of the smoking apparatus.

  "I just need to get dirt-side at Io."

  Gr'Narl bobbed his head. "We can hide your body scans from the sensors and smuggle you past the orbital security hub."

  "There's one more thing, old friend," Austicon said. "I seem to have made the old women angry as of late."

  "Intergalactic genocide will do that, you know."

  Austicon continued unabated. "Spread the word. In the event that anything goes wrong, any of my colleagues who rescue me from
capture will get my lockbox."

  Gr'Narl's eyes widened. Pirates living on the fringe traded stories about Austicon's lockbox. Consensus gave it mythical treasure status. Nobody really knew what it was, but it was common knowledge that he destroyed an entire planet during the Intergalactic Singularity War in order to obtain it. With the MEA and allied planets preoccupied with the xenocidal Mechnar threat, Austicon had free range to eradicate everything on Phobos 12. Hidden from the MEA core by the LDN1774 "Dark Tentacle" nebula, none remained alive willing to share specific information beyond it being "glorious." Nothing remained of Phobos 12 in Austicon's aftermath.

  "You will give me the lockbox," Gr'Narl clarified, "If I free you should you ever become incarcerated?"

  Austicon nodded slowly. "If I've been locked away longer than a year, then yes. It is a standing offer."

  Gr'Narl sneered. "I think someone might help you get locked away if the lockbox is on the line. I think it wise if you keep the offer close to the vest."

  "No!" he snapped. Austicon regained his composure and smoothed his clothes and hair. "It is an open contract."

  The Shivan shrugged. "Okay, but I think it will make life more difficult for you."

  Austicon sat back in his chair. "Excellent. When do we leave for Io?"

  Gr'Narl shrugged. "Whenever you're ready. It's not a long trip, we'll just need to secure an invoice for delivery and some disposable cargo first. It won't take long."

  Austicon sucked in a lungful of hookah smoke and then let it out in one massive blast like a dragon breathing fire. He stood. "I am ready now."

  Gr'Narl rose and followed him. "You've hired me before, so you know the quality of my work," the flat-topped alien probed. "Gimme the inside track. What is the lockbox?"

  The villain looked down his nose at the space pirate. "It's glorious."

  #

  "Entering District Nine's airspace, now," Matty reported to Dekker who sat in the copilot's seat aboard the Rickshaw Crusader.

  Dekker nodded. Matty was their best pilot, so the Crusader fell into his lap. The leader stood and threw his trademark duster over his shoulders as he left the cockpit.

  "We should be at Greenhome Central any minute," Matty assured him.

  "Perfect. I'll go grab the cargo."

  Vesuvius watched Dekker leave but made no movements to follow him.

  Moments later, their ship descended over the bright green terra-formed island in the middle of the Pacific. Gigantic, artistic alien structures surrounded the landing pad that their VTOL thrusters set them down upon.

  Dekker tried not to grimace as the landing ramp opened before him giving him a view of The Pheema's grounds. "Crap," he muttered as he sauntered down the entry. If he'd have known the job was for someone in the alien religious leader's inner circle he might have declined it on principle.

  He met the furry humanoid on the grassy tarmac and nodded his head towards the ship. Dekker tried to hurry the process along for Vivian's sake. "Let's go then. We've got a time line to keep."

  The alien cocked his head. "No formalities?" He bowed. "My name is Zarbeth."

  "You don't want to be late, do you Zarbeth?"

  Tight-lipped, his whiskers drooped and he followed Dekker into the ship which climbed skyward as soon as the ramp closed.

  "I didn't realize The Pheema and the Krenzin religious leaders had such a vested interest in the success of the corporations," Dekker mused.

  "As you know, our people are always concerned about peace above all other interests." Zarbeth's face soured when he spotted the pistols tucked beneath Dekker's coat. "I did not realize this was an armed escort--I might have made other arrangements," his voice hinted at disdain.

  Dekker squinted. "I'm guessing you didn't make the travel plans. Maybe someone thinks your mission is too important to send you off-world where things can easily get hostile. Maybe the situation on Io is more dangerous than you realize."

  "Hardly," Zarbeth countered. "I am merely moderating a discussion between Halabella Corps and the head of the miner's union. It is in the interest of the MEA, my people's home, to prevent a shortage of Polonium necessary for starship fuel."

  Dekker stomped the floor. "Only the capital class ships use those polonium drive rods. This ship is only a class B," he said.

  "And any ship older than twenty-six P.I.S.W." he clarified. "I'm not here to argue, Mr. Dekker Knight."

  "Just Dekker."

  "The Krenzin merely want to prevent the financial instability that will result from a costly spike in interstellar fuel."

  "Yeah," Dekker said. "I can see how that might cause an upset in the upcoming election cycle. Where does the Krenzin stand in the political race? You guys like Miko Janus's chance for reelection?"

  Zarbeth narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying, Investigator?"

  "I don't get paid to imply anything. I'm just an escort." Dekker leaned into the hall and caught the pilot's attention.

  "Maybe you should just stick to escorting," Zarbeth's voice verged on anger.

  "Maybe you're right," he digressed as he reached up and grabbed onto a ledge while pointing to an empty crash couch on the other side of the ships great room. "You should sit down and buckle up."

  Dekker leaned forward before Zarbeth could take a step forward. "Matty, time to square the circle."

  "Yes, boss." Matty punched the button and lit the FTL drives for a micro-jump. The ship bucked momentarily, spinning Zarbeth to the ground right in front of his seat.

  As soon as the inertial compensators caught up with the momentum, the alien slid into his seat and massaged his bruised knee. He glared at his host while suffering in silence.

  Matty's voice crackled along the intercom. "All crew and guests, we should arrive at Io's transfer station in thirty minutes... plan your card games accordingly."

  #

  Joliver, Tina, and Julio stayed in lockstep with the other students. They followed Mr. Beck, their teacher, through the streets of Halabella's Io station.

  Tina rubbed her her bare arms and shivered. Outpost 7 felt chilly to her--and far from an impressive place compared to other places she'd traveled in her short life.

  "We just got here, how can you be cold? It's like, a million degrees warmer here than on Europa." Julio rolled his eyes as Joliver offered her his zippered sweatshirt.

  Mr. Beck warned the trio of thirteen-year-olds to quiet down with a finger laid across his lips and a stern glare. Their geology teacher was really into the tour.

  Tina smiled at Joliver and accepted his spare layer of clothing. She was a newcomer to their region of the solar system and was much less acclimated.

  "Don't mind him," Joliver bobbed his head towards Julio. "He's a good guy... my best friend for like, ten years. I'm sure he just feels a little..."

  Mr. Beck shushed them again and skulked away from the tour guide to chastise his students. "I shouldn't hear a peep out of you three, you got it?"

  They all nodded, fearful of the extra essay assignments that he might administer as punishment for misbehaving. His essay papers were famously brutal and dreaded almost more than expulsion. The students clammed up; it was far too early in the field trip to fall under the teacher's scrutiny.

  "Good. I shouldn't see or hear a peep out of you three for the rest of the trip. Not a peep. If your peeping makes me look over this way... we'll have an unpleasant conversation."

  Mr. Beck returned to his post near the tour guide.

  Julio shook his head and made sure to keep his voice down while he talked out the side of his mouth. "Geez. How many times can a guy use 'peep' in a sentence?" They hung back an extra couple of steps to help avoid the watchful eye of their teacher who, luckily, found another student that required his attention.

  They mostly kept pace with their group while the Halabella Corporation's PR guy droned on and on about how they harvest the radioactive polonium from beneath the planet's crust and send it off to local refineries where machines compressed it into the one-meter rods u
sed to initiate FTL travel in many types of starships. He began talking about planetary tidal heating and geyser plumes when he lost the last scrap of attention the teenagers could spare him.

  None of them had any particular interest in geology--unlike Mr. Beck who seemed to have developed odd, romantic attachments to their fact-spewing guide. Julio was mostly interested in media and current events and Joliver was interested in Tina.

  They shambled onward, as bored as hibernating Scythian worms, when Julio perked up. "Do you guys see that man?"

  Joliver and Tina glanced at the shifty character peeking out from around some heavy equipment at the edge of the operations site. Joliver shrugged. "He's just some old dude."

  "You don't recognize him?" Julio insisted, "That guy looks exactly like Prognon Austicon--from the news wire!"

  They looked again as the smiling man stepped out of the shadows and walked casually across the yard and towards them. He veered away as he drew nearer the doors leading to towards the business hub.

  "Pssh. You're crazy," Joliver said.

  "No," Tina disagreed after watching their target for a few moments. "I think he's right!"

  Julio beamed.

  "You think the galaxy's most wanted man just walked past our school's tour group?"

  She nodded her head very seriously.

  "Guys," Julio whispered. "Let's follow him."

  Joliver stiffened like he'd been electrified by their crazy idea. "I don't want to get stuck with a stupid Beck assignment! You guys are nuts."

  "Do you really want to stay on this boring field trip?" Tina winked playfully. "We can just say that we got lost--we can't get quizzed on something we don't know anything about anyway, can we? Trust me, we'll be fine as long as we stick to a group alibi."

  Joliver grimaced and bit his lip stubbornly.

  His friends shrugged and started drifting slowly away towards the direction where the dangerous criminal went. They ignored his protests.

  "Guys. Guys? Guys--wait up!"