She trotted down the main corridor and hammered on his door. She didn’t get a response but decided to go in anyway. After unlocking the door with her captain’s key, she slid open the metallic panel.
She found him lying on his bunk wearing only boxer shorts. He was reading a book on his navcom, the image projected about a foot from his face. He closed the book with a wave of his hand and looked at her with the air of an adult interrupted by a child who should be in bed. Although he had passed his fortieth birthday, he was heavily muscled. A multitude of scars covered his athletic body. He lifted himself up onto his elbow. “Have you come to get another lesson in hand-to-hand combat?”
“I also taught you a few things myself while we were fighting,” retorted Mallory. “I’m not here for that. You’re going to stop disrespecting me and explain what exactly you’re after.”
Laorcq sighed and sat on the edge of the narrow bunk. “I’d tell you that you’d be better off not knowing, but I don’t think that will be good enough, will it?”
“Correct,” she answered while opening her navcom communications line. “Jazz? Stop the ship!”
VIII
HISTORY
THE rumble of the reactor disappeared, and the gravity fluctuated a bit. Laorcq gauged Mallory’s attitude. She didn’t seem likely to change her mind. Given that she had almost died, her need to understand what she was involved in seemed reasonable, so he capitulated. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll meet you in the galley.”
Once properly clothed, he went to the Sirgan’s small kitchen. She was waiting, standing with her back pressed against one of the metal cabinets. After serving himself a cup of tea, he sat as comfortably as he could. “Take a load off,” he said, pointing to the seat across from him. “It’s not that complicated, but I have to go pretty far back.”
She took his advice and slid her legs, rounded with exercise, under the tiny table.
Laorcq could tell she was impatient to know what she had gotten herself into. He tried to stifle the guilt growing in him: the firefights on Io and Pluto might be nothing but a prelude… Unfortunately, he still needed her.
He swallowed a scorching mouthful and began. “Twenty years ago, I joined the army. I didn’t really have a choice: the war against the Orcants was raging. Fighting enemies who were ready to sacrifice entire generations required many men. I traveled from planet to planet, following the campaigns. I witnessed massacres, I killed —and almost was killed— several times. My comrades fell one by one. Ironically, most of them died from taking too much jokal, rather than from combat. A crust of bread was enough to trade for that crap, it was so widespread. The boys took it, forgot their fear, and lived out their fantasies while asleep. The drug always took its tribute. If they avoided overdosing, these soldiers ended up with scrambled senses and were decimated in combat. When the armistice was signed, we found out that the Orcants had been the source of the jokal traffic. It didn’t matter anymore: everyone knew how to make it then, and no one refrained from doing it.”
Laorcq got lost in his thoughts, recalling the past opened wounds he thought closed.
Mallory brought him back to the present moment. “I’m waiting to hear the rest. A history course is not going to convince me to start my ship up again.”
“This isn’t history. There was a special division created during the war. An army inside the army, without any connection to the reigning hierarchy, composed uniquely of veterans, with just one goal: fighting the drug trade. I was getting ready to resign when I was invited to join. I almost refused. The opportunity to follow the threads of the drug trade back to the bigwigs and to throw them in prison made me change my mind. I served at the heart of the anti-drug unit, climbing the ladder, for about fifteen years.”
Mallory looked at Laorcq with new eyes. Strangely, she realized belatedly that she had never feared him. Trigger-happy, he killed without remorse. Nevertheless, her instinct told her that he was incapable of lifting a hand against her. She was relieved that she had not judged him incorrectly. “An entire career of crime fighting. At least I have a better picture of you now,” she said. “You could have told me from the beginning. However, I don’t see what this has to do with me, unless you’re trying to arrest Lebrane. I wouldn’t be surprised if my loan shark were also a drug dealer.”
“Exactly, that’s his main business,” he replied. “An excellent reason for you to help me. Lebrane is only the visible part of the iceberg, a small fry who forged himself a path through the mafia and the gangs. He acts as an interface between them and his employer. I began looking into his boss five years ago. At the time, our numbers were down. We sent information to the police about a newcomer, Jonas Morsak. The CEO of Idernax.”
Surprised, Mallory opened her eyes wide and expressed her incredulity. “Better and better! Not only did that company accuse me of theft thanks to Lebrane, but its CEO is also a major drug dealer?”
“Most of the major traffickers I sent to jail were high-placed people. Maybe they think they’re untouchable.”
The pilot watched Laorcq lift his cup to his lips and realize it was empty.
He put it down again and continued speaking. “A dirty cop buried the file. Suddenly, our operations started going badly. It was enough for the special unit to be dissolved. Several others and I kept going, hoping to catch Morsak before the end. To repay us for our persistence, he hired men to take us down, one by one, with total impunity. I barely escaped an assassination attempt. I woke up in a hospital, robbed of everything I had.”
Mallory relaxed against the galley’s bench. She was beginning to understand why Laorcq was ready to risk his life to achieve his goals. Belatedly, she realized that she still hadn’t asked him the most important question. “I forgot to ask the obvious. Are you going to tell me what Lebrane gave me to transport?”
“I’m not completely sure, but it almost certainly contains a strain of the Omsyn virus.”
The pilot immediately lost her cool. “What? I would never deliver something like that! I’m going to toss it into space, I am.” She jumped to her feet and got ready to rush to the hold.
As if he had expected such a reaction, Laorcq held her back in his arms. “You will do no such thing,” he said calmly. “On the contrary, we’re both going to watch over that package as if our lives depended on it. I need it to destroy Morsak.”
Mallory’s forearms were covered with black brambles. She forced herself to not break away violently and dispose of her problematic cargo rather than listening to Laorcq.
“I don’t want to see that stuff spread into the wild to cause devastation any more than you do,” he added. “Don’t worry—it will remain on the Sirgan.”
Mallory resigned herself. Morsak’s downfall also meant an end to Lebrane and his perpetual blackmail. As for not worrying after what she had just learned, it was a bit too much to ask for…
Hundreds of people were gathered at the foot of the brand new skyscraper. Idernax’s construction division had proven itself once again, bringing this more-than-a-mile-tall concrete arrow up from the ground in less than a year. Seen from below, the top was lost in a sky veiled with gray clouds.
In front of the wide-open hall, a red ribbon stretched between two polished brass buttresses. Morsak approached with a pair of scissors in his hand. The press’ drone-cameras flew around him, not missing a moment of the event. He cut the symbolic tape under the gaze of Idernax’s other managers, who applauded lazily.
Three of them suspected he was siphoning funds from the company, and they had begun to monitor him. These measures seriously irritated him because they left him with less and less autonomy. He had the feeling that he was nothing but a clown in their eyes, which filled him with utter disgust.
Without letting his state of mind show, he crossed the threshold with a friendly wave in the direction of the cameras. He swept into a room where a sumptuous buffet was waiting, followed by the crowd. Before everyone could begin eating and drinking on the company�
�s dime, he delivered the speech prepared for the event. Then it was time to mingle with the guests. He accepted congratulations and other platitudes for a half-hour with a smile plastered on his lips. Long habituated to society life, he easily masked his disdain for what he considered to be—with rare exception—a flock of sycophants and hustlers.
Finally, he found himself alone. His navcom had been beeping with a call from his Artificial Intelligence for at least ten minutes. Despite his corpulence, he slid easily between the little groups and headed straight for one of the Omega Sec agents. He murmured a few instructions into his ear. The man complied immediately, leading his boss into the nearest elevator.
The only furnished office in the building was located on the hundredth floor, a model for displaying the interior designer’s selections. Morsak entered and the guard posted himself at the door.
Ignoring the splendid view, the CEO took a seat covered with plastic wrap and opened his navcom’s communications line.
The AI displayed the results and commented on them with a gloomy voice. “The analysis of the data from Io allowed us to establish the following details:
Male individual, approximately twenty-five years old, found incinerated. Known to the police. Death occurred just before the incident at the astroport. One of Vael Lebrane’s contacts.
Male individual, approximately forty years old. Identified on surveillance videos during the shootout that started the fire. On file with Omega Sec. Identity: Laorcq Adrinov. Former military. (File link: evidence of drug trafficking).
Cargo on the transport ship Sirgan upon departure from Io: a package, 660 pounds, 140 cubic feet. Destination: Gloria City, planet Kenval, Procyon system.
Unresolved data: cause of the shootout.
After correlating these details with the ongoing project, several possibilities emerge:
Laorcq killed the man working for Lebrane and left on board the transport. Probability: eighty-two percent.
Laorcq is trying to harm you. Probability: ninety-eight percent.
Arrival of the merchandise in the Procyon system. Probability: seventy-seven percent.
Delivery completed. Probability: point one percent.”
Morsak cut the report off. He knew enough. “I was terribly negligent,” he reproached himself.
Years earlier, he had given Omega Sec the responsibility of disposing of that little group of cops that had been harassing him. At the time, he was much too busy consolidating his budding criminal organization to pay attention to the details. Irritated, he acknowledged that this negligence had endangered his plans. It was time to fix this mistake.
The solution presented itself and made his brown eyes gleam with satisfaction: sending Gamor to Kenval had been far-sighted. By surviving, Laorcq Adrinov had only obtained a suspended sentence.
The Sirgan flew toward Kenval under its fake identity. The planet appeared on the displays: a large, mauve disk striped with milky streaks. To its right burned a giant and a white dwarf: Procyon’s double star, orbited by five planets.
As she handled the ship’s controls distractedly, Mallory asked Jazz to refresh her memory.
“The sector is dominated by the Vohrns, a race of bipedal reptiles with grayish skin. Their grip on the system is total. Anyone who wants to work a plot of land or to do business must get their permission. The planet is overflowing with natural resources. Every day, thousands of rubes disembark there and imagine they are going to hit the jackpot, despite the ravages of Omsyn…”
“Quite a destination for a first extra-solar voyage.” the pilot lamented. “An area infected by a mutagenic virus!”
The Ogalev mutation syndrome, or Omsyn, as it had been nicknamed, causes a fatal genetic mutation in ninety percent of its victims. In the remaining ten percent, the mutation produced creatures that bore no resemblance to their original species. The illness spread fear and confusion for years until a treatment was found. Never completely eradicated, it still struck too often.
Delighted to play the professor, Jazz continued. “Lerva, the planet closest to the binary star, makes Io look like a resort. It’s a barren block of molten rock with no atmosphere. Stranda, the second planet, is the two-legged lizards’ private hunting ground. No Earthling or member of any other species has stepped foot there for years. While I was nosing around on the global network, I found all kinds of theories about what is supposed to be going on there. An army ready to march across the solar system, machines the size of cities designed to strip the planet of its materials, morally corrupt experiments... In my opinion, these rumors are driven by jealousy.”
In the mood to chat, Mallory asked the question Jazz was hoping for. “You have your own ideas about it, don’t you?”
“Indeed! The Vohrns are rather pacifistic. And also immensely rich, thanks to their advanced technology and their monopoly in Procyon. Earthlings, Nageks, and others are just waiting for a good excuse to try to take it away from them. These ridiculous stories could give them an excellent pretext. In short, Procyon is a veritable ticking time bomb.”
“Better and better. My dearest Lebrane chose an ideal destination for his package.” Mentioning the green-eyed thief turned her stomach: she just had to get her hands on him, and then…
Aware that she was brooding over her anger, she rekindled the conversation. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Laryl and Almar, the fourth and fifth planets, are gas giants like Jupiter. They have dozens of moons, exploited to the core by human and extraterrestrial consortia. Fortunately, Kenval, the third planet, is one of the more interesting.”
“Yes… between the Ogalev syndrome and the politics, I can’t wait to get there.” Mallory said ironically.
“The place has seen a lot of suffering, that’s true,” admitted the Natural Intelligence. “Most of it consists of desert plains or jungles populated by monstrosities. But it’s also a commercial hub that the Vohrns have vigorously developed. Many species have established trade there, buying and selling all day.”
“That’s just it. Why are all of those people willing to rub shoulders, even from afar, with those affected by Omsyn?”
“That’s easy,” Jazz replied. “The cities are isolated from the outside by seventy-foot-high walls. They are made from heavy locally quarried stone, laser-cut and adjusted to within a nanometer. These walls are more than sufficient to keep the mutants out.”
“Walled cities. A bit too medieval for my taste.”
“Don’t worry, Kenval’s megalopoleis are anything but archaic. They have no reason to envy the ultramodern cities on other planets. You’re not going to be bored, I promise you.”
IX
NEW WORLD
FLYING through the crowded sky over Gloria City, Kenval’s capital, Mallory forgot her worries for a moment. She glided over the immense concrete expanse of the astroport and directed the Sirgan to the terminal indicated by air traffic control.
The trip led them in front of a liner flying the Aldebaran flag. From a distance, it seemed monolithic, like a block of steel lying on its side. Coming closer, she discovered that it was composed of a multitude of passageways linking the living modules together.
One of these, in the process of being refurbished, revealed part of its interior: a spherical, weightless pool and a room big enough to dwarf the hold of a cargo ship. A cohort of cleaning robots performed maintenance. Designed to blend into their environment, they seemed to disappear when they stopped moving.
Mallory turned her eyes away reluctantly. The circumstances didn’t leave her much time to marvel.
This insane voyage did have a few advantages, at least. She would never have had a chance to see that kind of ship if she had remained confined to her own solar system.
The Sirgan, a simple freight transport, was given a berth far from the pleasure cruiser, between two dilapidated escort ships.
As soon as the reactor shut down, a group of technicians hurried over to connect the ship to the recycling and supply network
s. The black box was immediately queried to validate the identification transmitted during their approach to the planet.
Mallory was monitoring these operations from the main console when Laorcq entered.
“It’s time for me to play my part as contact,” he announced. “According to my information, one of Lebrane’s men, an astroport employee, will verify our cargo. From there, we just have to make sure the package remains sealed until it is delivered to the recipient, no matter what.” He put a hand on Mallory’s seat and leaned toward her. “You already know what we’ve probably been carting around: peeking in the crate without taking precautions would be a serious mistake. No joke, okay?”
Almost at the end of her rope, she gave him a deadly look. “I get the message, but don’t talk to me like I’m a soldier under your command. If you miss the army, you should re-enlist.”
The arrival procedures were expedited as expected. The airlock had barely been unsealed when the corrupt customs official appeared. He confirmed that the package was really the one he expected and checked the electronic lock. After dropping a piece of paper on which the recipient’s address was written, he disappeared without a word.
Mallory, Laorcq, and Torg also disembarked. For once, the latter didn’t particularly stand out: the terminal was crawling with exotic creatures along with more banal-seeming ones. Kenval’s reputation was intact. As they traversed the maze of the astroport, they noticed that the two Earthlings raised more eyebrows than a cybrid.
The pilot saw the Vohrns for the first time. Tall and thin, they had scaly skin drawn over a fine skeleton. Their slender legs and knees, articulated in the inverse of the human norm, made them walk with a jerky gait. They had long, sinewy limbs that ended in prehensile appendages festooned with enough fingers to make a maintenance android jealous.
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