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

by G. S. Jennsen

  So this version of me is dead either way, huh? Ah, well. As for earlier me, simply revoke her Advisor status. I didn’t particularly care for the job, anyway.

  “I’m afraid revocation of your Advisor status goes without saying.” Or he’d thought it did. “It’s the additional punishments which are yet to be decided.”

  That’s just dandy. Sounds as if my former self can look forward to a career in the service industry, then. Glad I’m not her.

  She really, really wasn’t. “Thank you for your assistance. Goodbye, Advisor Rowan.”

  He gestured toward Erik, and the pane went blank. “I’ll run a search for Tristan McLeros. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already found his way into the Justice system. If so, we might be able to identify more potential victims before they murder anyone. What can you do with the information she gave us?”

  “If you’ll authorize full access to all of Advisor Rowan’s backups for me—for comparison purposes—I can try to use her timeline to reconstruct the precise method and route the virutox took in invading her system. If I’m successful, it could be the first step in devising a vaccine.”

  Short of a cure, which didn’t appear likely, a vaccine was as close to a windfall as they were apt to get. “I’ll authorize it, as well as any other resources you need.”

  6

  * * *

  WAYFARER

  Asterion Dominion Space

  “I’M AN IDIOT.”

  Nika looked up from where she sat on the floor sorting their dwindling equipment and supplies. “I doubt it.”

  “I’ve worn this persona for millennia, built an interstellar business enterprise up from a single design schematic, served at the highest levels of government, and I am a certifiable idiot.

  “I’ve been so absorbed in our leaps from one crisis to the next, so…well, self-absorbed, that it never even occurred to me how I could easily be helping to get the limb augments off the streets. I mean, I thought Justice was going to handle it, then you were falling out of a tower, then we were infiltrating the Dominion’s largest prison, then everything we believed we knew flipped upside down. And somewhere along the way I forgot that they’re my limb augments.”

  Her face screwed up at him. “Okay. Meanwhile, Justice wasn’t handling it, only now they sort of are.”

  “And I can help. I need a few minutes, if you’ve got this?” He gestured to the glorious mess she’d made of the cabin floor.

  One corner of her lips curled up in a teasing mien, and it was so like her—the old her—the fleeting sense of déjà vu it evoked made him dizzy.

  “Yeah, I’ve got this.”

  “Right.” He nodded and went down below, where he sprawled across the bed until the dizziness subsided. Then he stayed there because it was comfortable and gazed up at the ceiling without seeing it as he composed a statement.

  OFFICIAL STATEMENT BY RIDANI ENTERPRISES REGARDING SIMUL/INTERACT BOOST LIMB AUGMENT MODEL VK 3.2

  Earlier this month, Ridani Enterprises released its newest model of consumer forearm/hand enhancement. During transport of the initial shipments to suppliers, the augments were stolen by an unknown party. The thief or thieves implanted a malicious and dangerous virutox into the installation software then distributed the augments to retailers as if they had come from this company.

  Do not under any circumstances install this augment. If you have already done so, visit a clinic immediately and request a regen from a pre-augment-install psyche backup. The seriousness of the infection this virutox causes cannot be understated, and there is currently no known treatment.

  Ridani Enterprises deeply regrets any difficulties this criminal act has created or will create for you. Present proof of purchase to nex address @RidaniEnt_CustServ.LA, and your purchase price will be refunded, no questions asked.

  He reread the statement twice, tweaked a few words and wrote up a message to his Manufacturing Director, Vance Greshe, to accompany the statement. It was full of contriteness, apologies and profuse thanks, none of which made up for the reality that he was sticking Vance with all the dirty work, not to mention a major public relations headache. But the alternative was worse, so he hit ‘send.’

  Then he lay on the bed for a few more minutes to ruminate on the strange, discombobulated state of his life at present, before returning to the main cabin and the best part of it.

  He found Nika sitting at the center of five piles of varying sizes, frowning at them. “How’s it look?”

  “I used our last mirage shell to conceal the chained-up assassin in an alley and our last remote energy pulse detonator to stun the security checkpoint dynes. You need a quality internal kamero filter augment and a fully modded Glaser. And…well, I have a list.” She leaned back on her hands. “We can try to pick up everything on…I don’t know, Adjunct Ni or Hachi.

  “Or, I can send Perrin the list and have her meet us somewhere. I don’t want to unnecessarily endanger her, but I think we can find someplace safe to meet. I need to tell her about the communicable ‘features’ of the virutox, too, but I want to couch it so she doesn’t freak out, which means in-person is better. Also…” she winced “…I’d like to transfer a portion of your funds to her for NOIR to use.”

  “Our funds.”

  “I told you I’m not comfortable with that.”

  “And I’ll continue to say it until you are.” He smiled. “It sounds as if we have a lot to update NOIR on and a lot of supplies to acquire. Let’s do it.”

  Dashiel input the new course in the navigation system while Nika messaged Perrin and cleaned up the assorted piles. Once they were on their way, he joined her on the floor, and they rested against the front of the couch. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course you can.”

  He nodded, mostly to himself. “If it had been you caught in the checkpoint outside the Briscanti Materials building, how would you have handled it?”

  “I suppose more or less the way I did. If I knew I couldn’t spoof my way through the identity check, I would’ve stunned the security dynes, disabled the force fields—or simply run through the checkpoint if it was possible—and vanished.”

  “So you always carry the weapons and tools you might need to get out of a scrape with you?”

  “I don’t wear tactical pants everywhere for the appreciative whistles they garner.”

  He chuckled. “I think they look hot.”

  “Good.” She studied him curiously. “We’ll get you properly equipped, and I’ll teach you how to hide the fact that you’re properly equipped.”

  “And then I’ll be a genuine rebel?”

  “You don’t need weapons to be a rebel. It’s a mindset. A way of life. What is this really about?”

  He sighed and sank lower against the couch. “When I was standing there in the line, hemmed in by force fields and waiting on you to save me, it hit me. I wasn’t an Advisor or a business magnate any longer, not in any way that mattered, because if I were I would have navigated the situation one way—a way I no longer can. And I wasn’t a rebel, because if I were I would have navigated the situation another way—a way I relied on you to handle for me. So what am I? Who am I?”

  She laughed quietly, though it sounded kind in tenor. “I can’t tell you the answer. Hells, I hardly know you. And as it turns out, I hardly know myself, either. But if there’s anything that being Asterion means, it’s that we can be whomever we choose to be. So you get to answer those questions for yourself.”

  “I believe you mean I have to answer those questions for myself.”

  She shrugged. “I was trying to take the edge off. Don’t feel bad about what happened on Ebisu. You’re doing well, and you’re going to make a great rebel. A smart rebel. A clever and conniving rebel.” She studied the rough, anti-skid flooring beneath them with sudden interest. “If it’s still what you want.”

  He leaned in close and lifted her chin with his fingertip until she met his gaze. Warmth flooded his chest, and he damn sure hoped his eye
s reflected the passion stoking that warmth. He waited until his lips were a centimeter from hers to whisper, “I want you.”

  WILDCARDS

  7

  * * *

  MIRAI

  “RYAN, WE'VE GOT SOMEONE in place on Adjunct Rei ready to slice into the public nex web overlay there. Can you talk them through the process?”

  Ryan Theroit looked up from one of the workbenches, where he had a drone—not WheatleyBot, so Perrin had no idea where he’d picked this one up from—in pieces and its core sliced open. She hadn’t meant to interrupt his work, but he nodded enthusiastically before she could tell him to never mind. “Yep. Pass them over to me.”

  She wasn’t in a position to easily find someone else qualified to do it, so she offered him a quick, “Great—thank you!” as she transferred the contact, then scanned The Floor in search of Ava Zobel.

  In the last several days, alongside the continuing structural repairs, The Floor had been transformed into one big crisis management command center. All available resources were now being directed at protecting as many people as possible from any and all virutoxes. From Justice. From the Guides. From any other malicious entities participating in whatever their scheme was all about.

  The level of effort they were mustering wouldn’t be sustainable for long, but they only had to keep it up long enough for Nika to bring the whole conspiracy crashing down. At least, that’s what Perrin kept telling herself.

  She spotted Ava in a huddle with Dominic, Geoff and Josie near the entrance to the training room, talking them through stars knew what. With the loss of a number of their strongest, most capable members, others were stepping up to prove themselves strong and capable as well. It warmed her already-too-big heart to see.

  She took two steps toward them, so she wouldn’t have to shout above the din. “Ava, what’s the status on the stun transmission routine?”

  Ava didn’t bother to turn around. “Two more hours. Three if you keep asking me every five minutes.”

  Perrin secretly rolled her eyes, but she’d weather Ava’s acerbity without complaint. Whatever it took. There was a good chance their info blasts weren’t exaggerating the tiniest bit, and if a Justice conviction meant final death, people needed every conceivable tool at their disposal to escape being captured by Justice, and NOIR could fashion a lot of tools.

  They had routines making the rounds that sent out stun waves on skin contact, but ideally one didn’t want Justice dynes getting so close in the first place. Conversely, many situations existed where carrying a Glaser or a stun grenade wasn’t practical.

  Ava’s frankly inspired solution was a routine that allowed a person to use a tiny bit of the Glaser tech without needing to turn an arm into a glorified weapon. It used the body’s normal energy generation to produce a scatter shot of electricity strong enough to stun anything smaller than a mecha within a three-meter range, with no internal hardware modifications required. Ava’s group had been working out the messy details for half a day now, but it sounded like they were getting close to having a distributable routine.

  She really hoped they were getting close.

  “Hey.” Joaquim Lacese’s hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I was wound up in my own head.”

  He gave her a questioning look but didn’t press her. “I just heard from Spencer. He wanted to know the story behind the final death warning.”

  “Did you tell him what Nika said about Zaidam?”

  “Yep. It doesn’t expose us to any greater extent than we already are, and the more dissension that’s sown inside Justice, the better. It might even slow them down.” Joaquim paused, his expression darkening. “He also said his boss, Advisor Weiss, is legitimately working to get the limb augments off the streets, in direct defiance of an order from the Guides.”

  “That’s awesome to hear! Finally, a break.”

  “Color me skeptical. At best, they can confiscate a portion of the unsold stock on Mirai, which does nothing for the people infected or for the augments out in the wild on all the other worlds.”

  “But it is a step in the right direction.”

  “Maybe, assuming this Weiss is still an Advisor tomorrow, and assuming he isn’t secretly turning around and redistributing the confiscated augments on other worlds. Regardless, it doesn’t change our strategy. We can’t depend on Justice to save the people, and we can’t wait for some benevolent dictator to have a change of heart.”

  “I realize—” She cut herself off as a new ping arrived. Her face lit up. “It’s Nika. She needs me to put together a box of supplies and meet her.”

  Joaquim’s eyes narrowed. “Her and Ridani?”

  “I expect so. She said to meet her at the docks at an industrial hub outside of Mirai Two.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grabbed his jacket then tapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re in charge for a couple of hours. Perrin and I have some errands to run.”

  8

  * * *

  NAMINO

  Asterion Dominion Axis World

  GRANT MESAHLE SURVEYED the new fab kit configuration with a critical gaze. This morning he’d received an order for ten atmospheric regulation modules suitable for installation at an outpost on a Class IIb—minimally capable of supporting Asterion life—exploratory world. The schedule was tight, so he’d sidelined two less urgent deliverables to convert one of the fab kits to dedicated production of the ordered modules for a couple of days.

  Satisfied with the setup, he turned to go back inside and finalize the schematic he’d spent much of the morning designing.

  In many ways, atmo regulators for Class IIb worlds were more complicated than those for the truly inhospitable planets. The air wasn’t toxic to Asterions, but it also wasn’t particularly healthy for them. When people came inside after working on the surface, their lungs and every other organ the air touched would have suffered microscopic damage, and their OS needed the right mixture of gases and supplemental nanobots to repair it. The formulation went above and beyond what counted as ‘normal Asterion-friendly air’ and was different for every environment.

  He’d reached the door to his office when the perimeter sensor beeped in his personal nex node. The cam feed showed two well-dressed and serious-looking men walking in the public entrance.

  He’d been expecting this visit for a while now. It didn’t mean he was happy about it. He made a performance out of putting his tools away to cover for the time it took him to prep a series of financial and file transfers and set them to trigger in an instant if needed. The mechanisms to preserve and protect his most important possessions were always in place—had been in place for a long time—so it was simply a matter of queuing them up. Then he pulled a protective tarp over the entry point of the fab kit and walked out to greet his guests.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How can I help you?”

  The dark-haired, burly one on the left spoke first. “Are you Grant Mesahle?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you own this business?”

  “I do.”

  “What kind of products do you sell?”

  “Custom-designed habitat components for outposts, mostly, along with the occasional spacecraft component. My orders generally come from businesses needing a specific niche requirement met. I don’t get many walk-ins.”

  The dark-haired man frowned. “We’re not customers, Mr. Mesahle.”

  You don’t say. He didn’t bother to request their names or credentials. He knew what they were. “Then I’ll ask again. How can I help you?”

  The light-haired man on the left began strolling across the factory space while the dark-haired one continued to do the talking. “Do you ever sell an entire spaceship?”

  Grant shrugged mildly. “Every now and then I’ll take on a custom build job—once or twice a year. Small, personal craft only.” He gestured around the space. “No room to build anything bigger.”

&nbs
p; “Did you recently sell one to a Dashiel Ridani?”

  Inwardly, Grant exhaled in relief. They weren’t here about Nika. Outwardly, he chuckled wryly. “Ah, Advisor Ridani. Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  This guy really was a humorless prick. “It means I allowed Advisor Ridani to take a ship out for a test flight several days ago, assuming he was trustworthy on account of being an Advisor.” He smiled blithely at the man, who was almost certainly an Advisor himself. Far too arrogant and presumptuous to be anything else. “Unfortunately, he’s yet to return it.”

  “You’re saying he stole one of your ships?”

  This question had come from the light-haired one, who had circled around the factory space and now stood off Grant’s left shoulder.

  Grant shifted to face him. “I’m not ready to make such a serious accusation so soon. As an Advisor, it’s entirely possible that his idea of what a ‘test flight’ means is somewhat more expansive than mine.” He didn’t feel guilty about besmirching Ridani’s good name, if the man had one. He didn’t owe Ridani anything, and the secrets he kept he did so for Nika’s sake. Besides, implying the man was an irresponsible fop was a far better option than telling two Justice officers the truth.

  “You’re very conciliatory about the possible theft of a ship that must have cost you a great deal of time and credits to build.”

  He dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. “You’ve gotten a thorough look around here by now, yes? If you’re searching for the right word to describe this place, that word is ‘humble.’ I’m an electrician, a mechanic, a mason. It’s just me and two drones here, plus a rudimentary mecha to lift the extra-heavy pieces. I build things because I enjoy doing it, and I make enough money at it to keep building more things. Yeah, if that ship never gets back here and I never see credits for it, it’ll hurt. But I’m not interested in creating a Dominion-wide scandal by publicly accusing an Advisor of theft. I’d rather spend the time the sordid affair would drain out of my life building a new ship instead.”