Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  The anomalies only grew as they closed in on the foci of the signals. He’d never admit it to the others, but they made him nervous. The EM signatures and other data they gathered on their target fit no profile, and there were a lot of profiles in the database. Nerves notwithstanding, however, he intended to add a new entry in the database before the day was done.

  He was already considering how to proceed if this civilization was so far advanced as to be impossible to communicate with. He’d yet to arrive at a suitable answer. The Guides had sent a diplomat to lead the expedition in the hope that he could overcome the inevitable challenges of meeting new species, but there were limits to both his personal capabilities and the language interpretation algorithms installed in the Shorai’s servers.

  “Navigation, decrease speed another thirty percent. Systems, increase power to defensive shielding and cloaking field to the maximum allowed under Level III Alert protocols.”

  Both stations were run by non-sentient machines living in the walls of the ship, so he received confirmation of his orders being implemented only via the updated information displayed on his command pane. The crew of the Shorai was eighty percent machine, from the imitation-sentient service dynes all the way down to the automated environmental systems. Four living Asterions accompanied him on the expedition, and in truth they, and he, were only there to make the decisions not trusted to the machines, of which there weren’t many.

  It was one of the reasons why the citizens of the Dominion had long ago started using d-gates to travel among and across planets and space stations: space travel was boring.

  Until it wasn’t.

  As they neared the outer reaches of the stellar system in question, the Shorai’s sensors strained to differentiate and catalogue the volume and breadth of signals pouring out from it. In both a metaphorical and literal sense, this civilization was loud. Multiple linguistic algorithms sifted through the avalanche of data in search of patterns resolvable into language.

  While their allies the Taiyoks possessed FTL drives and other technologies befitting their status as a space-faring society, Asterions had only once come across a civilization more developed than their own, when a galaxy-mapping mission stumbled upon the Sogain just over 200,000 years ago.

  The encounter that had followed consisted in its entirety of a warning never to approach the Sogain’s planet delivered directly into the minds of the diplomatic envoys. The warning was cemented with a taste of what they could expect to happen if they didn’t obey, in the form of a targeted shockwave that overwhelmed the Asterion vessel’s engines and ejected it from the stellar system at 0.4 lightspeed.

  Though they had kept a distant, discreet eye on the Sogain in the millennia since then, they’d had little choice but to respect the mysterious aliens’ ultimatum. As a result, they’d learned almost nothing about what a truly advanced civilization might look like.

  Perhaps this encounter would go better. At a minimum, these aliens didn’t appear to be nearly as secretive or reclusive as the Sogain. They certainly were not attempting to hide their existence.

  “Sir, we’re detecting an object approaching our location on bearing S 14° E -18° z.”

  The update came from Bethany Lance, their starship expert and the sole Asterion currently on the bridge with him. He glanced in her direction. “A ship?”

  “Speed and trajectory suggest an artificially propelled object, yes, sir.”

  Bethany was nothing if not exacting. “How close to it will we pass if we keep to our current trajectory?”

  “Sir, it’s on an intercept course.”

  A chill raced up his spine, and his higher-order processes fought for dominance over a more primal fight-or-flight instinct. So much for their cloaking technology. In the face of the aliens’ evidently superior capabilities, it shouldn’t be too surprising that their attempt at stealth was ineffective. Still, he’d hoped to get a bit closer before revealing their presence.

  He breathed in deliberately. “On-screen as soon as we have a visual.”

  “A few more seconds, sir.”

  He waited with an outward air of patience cultivated over millennia of practiced diplomacy.

  The wide pane at the front of the bridge burst to life to reveal the alien vessel. Constructed of an odd-looking aubergine-hued metal, its leading edge was capped by concentric circles of crystal spears. The visual gave no indication of scale, but it sure as hells looked enormous, and despite his efforts to remain composed a quiet gasp escaped his lips.

  “Comms, order everyone to the bridge. Navigation, slow to a halt and hold position. Systems—”

  PRIMARY

  EXPRESSIONS

  1

  * * *

  PRESENT DAY

  EBISU

  Asterion Dominion Axis World

  THE PEBBLED WALKWAYS of Ebisu One remained damp several hours after the morning’s rain shower had passed. Tiny puddles filling gaps between the stones reflected the bright sunlight that had replaced the rain to create an illusory carpet of sequins beneath Nika Tescarav’s feet.

  The streets were bustling, and the heavy foot traffic imposed a predictable rhythm on the reflected glow. While she walked with the crowd, she studied the rhythm in her peripheral vision. Waiting for the hitch, the break that betrayed a larger, non-Asterion frame with a too-deliberate gait in her vicinity. Short of installing visual sensors in the back of her head, it was the best way she knew of to detect a tail.

  And she almost certainly had a tail.

  The Guides would be foolish to give up on eliminating her after the single failed assassination attempt on Namino, and whatever else the Guides were, they were not foolish. But she wasn’t giving up, either—

  There. For half a second, a large shadow marred the rhythmic dance of light.

  Nika took the next left over a bridge crossing one of the many canals that wound their way through Ebisu One. Several people followed; all but one of them were simply continuing on their planned paths to their destinations.

  When she reached the other side of the bridge, she started across the small promenade for a cluster of shops, then abruptly veered down a narrow street. No one followed her this time, and she activated her kamero filter as she pressed against the building façade to her right.

  If she hadn’t been concentrating on springing the trap, she would’ve laughed at her chosen surroundings. It was ironic, bordering on absurd, the amount of time she spent in alleys these days, considering that she’d begun her current life face-down in one.

  The Taiyok who was tracking her appeared a second later, skulking two meters down the alley before stopping upon finding it empty.

  She fired a Glaser shot point-blank into his neck. It sent him sprawling to the ground, momentarily stunned. Before he could shake off the stun, she tossed him onto his back and straddled his thick chest.

  A needle blade tumbled out of his left hand, erasing any doubt she might have entertained about his intentions.

  She fired another shot into his chest, then extended a blade from her left wrist and sliced into the connective tissue between his right wing and his torso. Only a few centimeters, enough to ensure he wouldn’t be flying today but not enough to cause permanent damage. Then she moved the blade to his throat and applied enough pressure for a trickle of mottled brown blood to ooze onto the chrome metal.

  His eyes popped open, but on sensing the blade at his neck, his muscles froze.

  “Move, and you’ll be dead the next instant. Cooperate, and I won’t kill you. I don’t want to kill you, because I need you to deliver a message for me. Listen carefully.”

  She paused long enough to let the command sink in. “When you report back to the Guides on how you failed in your mission, tell them this: they can send as many assassins for me as they want. None of them will succeed. Therefore, I offer an alternative for their consideration. If they decide they are instead ready to engage in a productive conversation, they can send a message to nex node address @NAlt23_14, an
d we can move forward from there.

  “Each assassin I have to waste my time killing, however, will make me less amenable to hearing whatever they have to say, so they should choose their next moves wisely.

  “Do you understand this message and your instructions regarding it?”

  His narrow chin dropped, and she read the comprehension in the amber glow of his compound eyes.

  She placed the muzzle of the Glaser flush against his breastplate and stunned him again, then hurriedly restrained one of his hands to a nearby pipe. Next she retrieved a mirage shell from her pouch and placed it out of his reach at the intersection of the alley and the promenade to conceal his presence from passersby.

  The measures ought to give her enough time to depart the sector and deny the assassin another go at her, assuming she didn’t dally.

  After firing a final burst to keep the Taiyok out for a few more seconds, she exited the alley and strode away as rapidly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

  She’d just reached the canal bridge when a ping arrived from Dashiel.

  We may have a problem.

  “Justice Advisor Adlai Weiss to see Mr. Granger.”

  “Identity signature, please.”

  Dashiel Ridani gazed impassively at the lobby security dyne while he pressed the fingertips of his left hand to the pane.

  He didn’t know for certain if the Guides had publicly or privately blacklisted him—something he did need to find out—but at a bare minimum they had surely placed a trigger in security systems across all Dominion worlds designed to flag his presence at any checkpoint. So he needed to not register at any checkpoint.

  Σ → Identity:

  > Adlai Weiss, 8th generation

  Signature:

  > θβΨαθΨΩΩΨαΞ

  “Identity confirmed. You are cleared to proceed. Take the lift to the twelfth floor.”

  The relief he felt on fooling the scan didn’t reach his features as he strode confidently past the dyne and toward the lift.

  Five years of burying his true emotions behind a measured, aloof demeanor was turning out to be of unexpected use in his new life as an apprentice rebel. It had trained him in how to not reveal a variety of volatile emotions—in this instance, generalized anxiety about impersonating someone he knew. A friend for many centuries, and now…he couldn’t say.

  He’d provided a few details to better sell the charade, but Nika had done most of the work of constructing the simmed ID and a morph that made him look like Adlai to Asterion eyes, dynes and scanners. She’d also created a more anonymous ID for him to use in most situations, but for this meeting he needed to be Adlai.

  He actually knew the Briscanti Materials CEO, Simon Granger, which was going to make pretending to be Adlai doubly difficult. But Dashiel Ridani sauntering into the CEO’s office and asking probing questions about an outpost would raise alarms even if the Guides hadn’t yet made him persona non grata. Adlai Weiss doing the same would be passed off as official Justice business, with the added benefit of saving him from needing to answer any pesky ‘why’ questions.

  According to the files Nika had copied from the Mirai Tower data vault, Briscanti Materials owned the most recent exploratory world outpost to be ‘nulled,’ a sterile word the files used to signify the disappearance of all Asterions and equipment from a location. Outposts vanishing was what had started their involvement in this whole mess; lacking other leads, it seemed the best place to pick up the trail.

  The lift stopped at the twelfth floor, and Dashiel tried to reorient himself to what he imagined Adlai’s headspace might resemble. How would Adlai approach a friendly interrogation of a non-suspect? By trying to put them in shackles then having them shot when they resisted—

  He tamped down the flare of animosity. He hated Adlai for forcing Nika to run, though intellectually he recognized the man couldn’t have acted any other way. Perhaps Dashiel’s hatred would settle into a milder form of disappointment in time. Not today, but perhaps in time.

  He needed to set his feelings aside for the moment if he was going to pull off impersonating the Adlai the public saw.

  Simon Granger was studying a graph at a wall-to-wall array of display panes when Dashiel walked in. “Mr. Granger, thank you for seeing me.”

  He held his breath. He had no reason to believe Granger had ever met Adlai, but if his assumption proved to be wrong, the conversation was apt to get dicey. Besides an obvious lack of memory of any such meeting, he hadn’t had a chance to visit Maris for a crash course in acting, and as such his intonations and manner of speech were at best a rough caricature of the way Adlai spoke.

  The man shifted away from the panes wearing a polite smile. “Advisor Weiss. It’s no problem, though I admit your visit is a bit of a surprise. I hope some company representative hasn’t behaved badly enough to run afoul of Justice.”

  “Not to worry. My investigation isn’t directly related to your company or any of its employees. Consider Briscanti Materials a possible material witness, as it were.”

  Granger motioned toward the conference table by the windows. “Then I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  “I appreciate it.” Dashiel sat opposite him. “Until recently, you were operating a lab outpost on SR86-Roku. What happened that led you to shut it down?”

  “Nothing. It wasn’t my choice. The lab was pursuing experimental combinations of kyoseil and alisinium, a chemically similar mineral abundant on the planet. Many of the potential combinations are extremely volatile—according to Industry’s Conceptual Research department, too volatile to be left to the whims of private sector development.”

  “CR took over the outpost?” He had close working relationships with several people in the department who he could follow up with—except possibly he couldn’t. Not without more disguises and misdirections.

  “Down to the last module. Moved it all to their site on Adjunct Shi.”

  “The employees as well?”

  Granger nodded. “Everyone based at the outpost was transferred to CR’s payroll.”

  Dashiel was now so intrigued he almost forgot to be Adlai. “You don’t sound particularly happy about this turn of events.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. They paid us handsomely for the equipment they confiscated—excuse me, bought. Same for the materials and personnel. We made more off the transfer than the experiments would have netted us in two decades. It’s just….”

  “The lab was yours. Your idea, your gamble, your potential breakthrough.”

  Granger regarded him a little too inquisitively. “Yes. As a Justice man, I’m surprised you appreciate the notion.”

  Dashiel hurriedly schooled his features. He’d definitely slipped out of character there. “I have friends working in businesses similar to yours and have been privy to many an alcohol-enlivened dinner speech on the topic.”

  “I’ve been guilty of making a few of those speeches myself. Can I ask what the SR86-Roku lab has to do with a Justice investigation? I assume it must be serious to warrant the personal attention of an Advisor.”

  Dashiel straightened his shoulders into a formal posture. “I’m sorry, but I can’t share any details. I doubt you’ll need to worry about it. A couple of brief follow-up questions, if I may. Who was the contact person at CR?”

  “Let’s see, it was…Vivian Santosa, I believe.”

  The name meant nothing to him, when it really ought to. He’d bet a reasonable sum on this Santosa never having spent a day in the employment of Conceptual Research, if she existed at all. “Did they involve anyone from your company in the setup of the new lab on Adjunct Shi? Or have one of your people come in to double-check things once the lab was operational?”

  Granger shook his head. “It’s been complete silence from CR since they deposited the credits in our account. I assume they believe they can run our experiments better than we did.”

  Dashiel didn’t miss the caustic undercurrent in the man’s tone. He felt for Granger, and par
t of him wanted to reassure the man that nothing he’d been told was true. But he couldn’t do it, only in part because the truth was far worse. “Last question: other than the radio silence, was there anything about the transaction which struck you as…odd?”

  “Well, the fact that they moved the lab at all. It would’ve been far safer to take over the outpost and keep running the experiments there, rather than moving everything to Adjunct Shi and situating the lab in the middle of several hundred thousand people. Particularly given that the stated reason for taking over the experiments was the volatility of kyoseil-alisinium syntheses.”

  “And you pointed this out to them?”

  “Repeatedly—oh, here’s another oddity. I never had a real-time, in-person conversation with anyone from CR, or anyone at all. Every communication was remote and nex-delivered.” Granger shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “But the credits were good, and I’m using them productively on other projects. I shouldn’t complain.”

  “We’ll keep the complaining between us.” Dashiel stood and offered a hand. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Certainly. I do have a question before you go. I suspect I know your answer, but is there any chance you can tell me anything about the incident at the Chosek Embassy? The CEO of Zanist Circuitry is a friend of mine, and I’m concerned for him. I assume he’ll be regened soon, but details have been impossible to come by.”

  What had happened at the Chosek Embassy that resulted in what sounded like body loss for a corporate CEO? Was Iona Rowan involved?

  He projected a touch of regret. “I apologize, I do, but I can’t discuss it with anyone outside of Justice. You can reach out to the External Relations Division. They might be of more help.”

  “Advisor Breckel, yeah. I already tried him and got the same answer. I understand. Hopefully it will get sorted soon.”

  Dashiel smiled. “Hopefully.”

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