Although vaguely humanoid, they were distinguished by the absence of a head, strictly speaking. The closest thing the Vohrns had to a face was located above their thorax, almost at their shoulders: a conical outgrowth whose base was eight inches wide. Forming a short rostrum, this strange protuberance was somewhat reminiscent of a bird-of-prey’s beak, with the added feature that it was covered with small gray scales like the rest of their bodies. It was, in fact, an extremely sensitive organ that provided sight and hearing along very wide spectra.
A group of Orcants bumped into the two humans without the slightest embarrassment.
“For once Jazz didn’t exaggerate!” Mallory exclaimed. “No matter how proudly they waddle along on their big crab claws, they still look detestable!”
She examined them in detail: with their wide, short torsos, these quadrupeds looked like exceptionally stocky centaurs covered with a shiny brown carapace. A small head equipped with six eyeballs and abnormally large jaws completed the portrait. She would have thought them ridiculous if not for the aggressive aura they gave off.
She also noticed a number of other extraterrestrials: crawling, leaping, huge, tiny, sometimes with such an exotic appearance that they didn’t even look alive, and others who, on the contrary, looked disturbingly similar to humans.
Above this multitude, the arches that composed the structure of the terminals segmented the panorama into hallucinatory images. To the right, a mauve sky studded with stars, striped with the towers of Gloria City. To the left, a mountain range overhung by Procyon, an immaculate sun, and the white dwarf that accompanied it. Under the bright light, the mountains stood out against the black and looked like a predator’s teeth, as if the planet were preparing to devour these tiresome intruders in one bite.
Nevertheless, there were also scenes that were common in all of the ports in the universe: cries of joy at reunions, tearful goodbyes, lost travelers and baggage…
Interrupting their progress through the crowd, Laorcq suggested they eat before going through customs. “Let me take you out! After three weeks of dehydrated food, I want something fresh.”
He settled on a high-class establishment. The waiter was a Regulian. He could have been mistaken for human, except for the quivering orifice in place of a nose and the dark green skin that had evolved to blend into the verdant background on Regulus IV.
Mallory opened the menu, traditionally printed on thick paper, and discovered that it offered specialties from many star systems, some so remote she had never even heard of them before. Apparently, the chef knew how to make the best of his location at the heart of the astroport.
Out of curiosity, the pilot opted for a meal composed of randomly chosen dishes. She was only familiar with the dessert: a tracery of crystallized pinok stems, a shrub imported from Capella, whose taste was simultaneously peppery and sweet. Laorcq and Torg also decided and placed their orders.
While they waited, she steered the conversation to Morsak. “Could you explain to me why I’m involved in your business with the drug baron?”
Looking at her with his gray eyes, Laorcq thought before replying. “You already know: because of Lebrane. I escaped an assassination attempt, but when I got out of the hospital, I found myself completely isolated. For want of anything better, I worked for a private detective agency for a few years. The majority of the work consisted of adultery and minor cons. I was bored to death, but I could discreetly use my employers’ resources to investigate Idernax’s CEO. It took me a year to find out that the majority of trafficking he orchestrated provided fresh capital for one of his subsidiaries, which officially specializes in xenobiology.”
“Officially…. And in reality?” asked Mallory.
“Research into Omsyn. They created a variant. I’m not certain, but I have a pretty good idea how they’re planning to profit from it. While investigating, I noticed a name that kept coming up: Lebrane. A brand new, powerful big shot, not yet out of the reach of a PI. A weakness in Morsak’s legal armor. For months, I followed your dear ‘associate.’ That’s how I learned they were getting ready to ship an extremely important package outside the solar system. It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for…”
The meal arrived, leading to a pause in his account. Torg threw himself on his plate of littorina, a sort of mollusk the size of a watermelon, originally from Denebola, served in its shell. Laorcq attacked the contents of his dish without paying any attention to Mallory’s grimace: she discovered to her horror that the filet of trang in a pastry shell smelled like cat urine.
“In fact, now that I think of it,” he continued, “I was there the day your uncle signed the loan with him…”
“You could have suggested that he find another financier,” she replied, pushing away the dish with the pronounced odor.
“In that case, we would never have met. While we’re on the subject, if you help me take down Morsak, he will definitely bring his right-hand man down with him. You’ll be rid of Lebrane; I’ll see to it.”
“I hope so. I’m willing to help you, but you have to do the same for me. As you know, my father was implicated in the destruction of Dorval Station. The proof that his superiors framed him is waiting patiently for us to retrieve it. Your time in the army should weigh in my favor, when I lodge my appeal.”
“Perhaps, but I’d like to know why your uncle had to buy a ship, and why you have to go there yourself.”
“My ship is also my source of income, I’ll remind you. In any case, chartering a ship to go to that kind of place would have cost almost as much. And I have to be there myself for good reasons, don’t worry about that.”
“That doesn’t explain anything,” retorted Laorcq.
She allowed herself a moment of thought and decided that, given her situation, it was just as well if he knew everything. “Before leaving for his mission, my father copied the orders transmitted by military command and the encoded certificates into a strand of DNA-locked monomolecular cable.”
This statement had a much greater effect than she expected. He forgot about his meal. “I remember hearing about that kind of tech. Once the information has been recorded, the threads can be hidden in solid matter. Effective, but not very practical. What did he hide it in?”
“An asteroid in orbit around Eridane-E. In the middle of Orcant territory.”
“I see. He wasn’t the kind of guy to do things halfway.”
With a reproachful look, the green-skinned waiter approached and removed Mallory’s filet of trang.
“Neither are you,” she replied. “In particular when it comes to ‘resolving’ complications.”
He tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, the rest should be far less turbulent.”
He told her his plan with regard to the CEO of Idernax. “If my theory is correct, our cargo is terribly dangerous and particularly illegal. Evidence served up on a silver platter. Added to the files I already have on Morsak and Lebrane, I’ll have enough to get an indictment. I just need witnesses to substantiate my version of the facts. The recipient of the package will be perfect: the threat of a long stay in a cell will make him cooperate.”
“And then?” asked Mallory who, overtaken by her hunger, was preparing to devour a half-dozen of the large gelatinous cubes that constituted her main course. “Are you naive? That won’t be enough to send Morsak to jail.”
“No, of course not. I’m not counting on it, rest assured. Before I’m done with him, I want to ruin his reputation. I can’t stand watching him play the victim. The whole world has to know what kind of garbage he really is.”
“Great. He can probably buy half the press and force it to put out whatever story he wants.”
“Not in our case,” replied Laorcq. “Once he’s been accused of the crime I suspect him of, most of his fortune will be seized or frozen. He won’t have any choice but to devote the rest to avoiding prison. And his position isn’t that stable. Idernax’s largest shareholders will consider a trial as a perfect opportunity to remove
him from power, and that would be just fine with me.”
“Even if we manage to connect him to Lebrane’s cargo, he’ll find a way to clear his name.”
“I suspect him of wanting to use Omsyn for financial gain by releasing a new variant followed by a new vaccine. Next to that, transport of infectious materials will be considered a minor offense.”
“If any of the species on Kenval discovers such a serious crime, it will lead to an embargo of the human planets. I don’t need to tell you the consequences of a blockade of that scope on Earth’s economy…”
They continued to eat in silence, the ambiance having suddenly grown heavy. While they finished, she raised a last question. “There’s still one thing that doesn’t fit. What did Sodoye and his employer, Kau… something, have to do with all of this?”
Laorcq attacked his dessert enthusiastically before replying. “You’re referring to the ambush on the way here? Normally, I would blame it on greed. Sodoye had no reason to lie to us, but I think it’s really strange that Kaumann was behind it. The company is owned by organ cloners who have contracts with the army and the police. I’ll figure it out once Morsak has been taken care of. We got rid of their mercenaries without leaving a trace, and they shouldn’t bother us any further.”
Mallory refrained from reminding him that the nuisances in question had almost killed them and ordered a coffee that she enjoyed slowly. She had the nasty impression that it would be the last one for a while.
Once they were full, they left the restaurant and traversed the astroport. A hallway whose flexible floor acted as a mechanical walkway, providing a different speed for each person carried them along. Composed of translucent material, it gave the impression of walking on water. When she took a step, Mallory was surprised to be propelled forward quickly. In the time it took her to understand how the walkway worked, she accidentally bumped into a group of travelers. Embarrassed by her clumsiness, she hid her chagrin behind an air of busyness.
Two minutes of sliding along on the strange surface carried them to customs. Excess seemed to be the rule here. Rows of control consoles stretched for hundreds of yards, and arrivals were scanned from head to toe and subjected to an interrogation that sought to uncover the slightest irregularities. Despite Mallory’s concerns, the fake documents produced by Laorcq allowed them to pass through without incident.
The customs officer, another Regulian, spoke to her in a singsong voice. “Your identification papers contain inconsistencies because of their age. The circumference of the middle part of your body is larger than the one indicated here. There are folds around your visual organs that should be recorded. If you don’t renew your passport, we will not permit entry the next time you come to Kenval.”
The blood boiled in Mallory’s veins. Is he openly mocking me, or what? Immediately, her sensitive tattoos reacted and transformed into a tangle of brambles.
Before she could explain her point of view to the uniformed Regulian, Laorcq caught her by the wrist and pulled her away. She was going to protest but realized that Torg had not made a move to restrain the scarred man: a silent way to show Mallory his disapproval. She controlled herself: attracting attention really was the last thing they needed.
Grumpily, she allowed herself to be dragged toward the exit, a thick door of frosted crystal. It opened automatically, and they emerged onto a vast esplanade.
Gloria City lay before them, or rather above them, with so much of the city stretching up into the sky. If the colorful crowd at the astroport contained surprises, it was only a taste of the spectacle provided by the city.
Hordes of skyscrapers connected by multi-level, intertwined walkways assaulted the clouds. Pedestrians, vehicles, and elevators that ran the length of the towers’ steep walls generated a feeling of frenzy. Everyone seemed to want to take advantage of their time as if today were their last day.
The green-skinned bureaucrat and his uncalled-for remarks forgotten, Mallory addressed her companions. “Even with a navcom to guide us, I have the distinct impression that we could get lost for days in this city…”
The small group headed for a transport station. Using the public network was the best solution.
A tube, ten feet in diameter and made of ultra-resistant glass, provided a view of a long line of equally transparent cylinders. Each contained two rows of seats. They got into one of them.
Laorcq requested the center of town. “We have errands to run,” he explained, anticipating the pilot’s question.
The transport capsule closed suddenly, surrounding them with a bubble of silence. It accelerated abruptly, flattening the passengers against the backs of their seats.
Streets streamed past at staggering speed, interspersed with moments of darkness when the capsule traveled underground. They rose abruptly and traveled for a time suspended in air, high enough for the city’s protective wall to dwindle to a mere arc, before dropping one last time and stopping without the slightest jolt.
At the heart of Gloria City, the towers were even more oppressive, blocking the sky with their mass. Mallory raised her voice to make herself heard above the din of the crowd and the traffic. “Can you tell me which errands you have in mind, exactly?”
“Since I had to leave my revolvers on the Sirgan, I need to get new ones,” he replied. “The offices of the human embassy are here. With a well-stocked armory in the basement.”
“And so, we just have to knock on the door and ask for assault rifles and a bazooka?” she said ironically.
“You? Certainly not. On the contrary, an active commander will have no problem.”
“Well then… I thought you had left the army.”
“The advantage of having been part of an independent division is that there’s no one to accept your resignation, particularly if one is careful.”
Mallory, a bit too clever to accept this overly simplistic explanation, gave him a searching look.
Defeated, he conceded to her, “Okay, I admit that I doctored a few files here and there in anticipation of this day. The main thing is that, officially, I’m still on active duty.”
X
A DISREPUTABLE NEIGHBORHOOD
THE Inata was a comfortable hotel occupying the top twenty floors of a skyscraper near the center of town. Mallory, Laorcq, and Torg could see the city for miles from their suite.
Standing in front of an Art Deco desk, the scarred man was taking inventory of his special toys. A pair of small-caliber guns, a pack of grenades the size of cherries, and a strange pistol made of a dark brown material veined with white detailing. He checked the latter carefully. It was made of serag, a type of wood strong enough to pierce a block of titanium and practically undetectable. It was a pretty flimsy arsenal from the soldier’s perspective. He hadn’t dared to take too much from the embassy’s reserves, for fear of being noticed.
After having reassured himself that his weapons were in good working order, he leaned over the screen embedded in the desk. He navigated through the menus and stopped on a map of the city, then looked away and turned toward the pilot. “Mallory? The address, please.”
Captivated by the view, she was looking down on the steel and glass ant farm that was Gloria City. Next to Kenval’s capital, Earth’s biggest cities looked like hamlets.
Finding the piece of paper folded in four at the bottom of a pocket, Mallory read off the coordinates they had gotten at the astroport. Immediately, a dot began to blink red on the map of Gloria City. The system automatically changed the display mode to make itself easier to read. The map appeared progressively on the glass panels, blocking the view through the bay windows. The recipient of the package, one Andreas Geekler, lived on the edge of the Orcant sector…
They prepared to go meet their “client.” The pilot, wearing figure-hugging pants and a black long-sleeved t-shirt, also put on her burgundy-colored leather jacket. Laorcq opted for a charcoal gray suit in which he hid his gun. His eyes met Torg’s, who was lounging on a sofa. The furniture’s mimetic upholste
ry had copied the furred giant’s coloring of red stripes on a black background.
Laorcq thought he detected a glint of amusement in Torg’s wide blue eyes. He understood why after looking again at Mallory and then at himself. A small brunette who was both athletic and feminine, her hands covered with tattooed roses. A scarred man, fifteen years her elder, tall, with close-cropped hair. It was difficult to imagine a more mismatched couple.
Torg drove the point home. “Even if the non-humans don’t notice anything, members of your own species will pick you out immediately.”
Laorcq dismissed the observation with a shrug of his shoulders. “The important thing is not to go unnoticed, but to hide our real intentions. No one will be wary of an eccentric man hanging out with a cybrid bodyguard and a Lolita.”
Getting into character, Mallory attached herself to Laorcq’s arm and favored him with a winning smile. “You’re right, my dear! Let’s go! It’s time to expand my shoe collection.”
They left under the simultaneously reproving and envious gaze of the receptionist. Influenced by the pilot’s mischievous mood, the scarred man couldn’t help winking at him salaciously, for the pleasure of embarrassing him. The man pointed his nose straight at the counter and adopted a busy look.
The lobby of the Inata Hotel opened onto a wide avenue where they hailed a taxi. A long trip brought them to the recipient’s building. The fake and sloppily applied molding around the windows and the main entrance oozed mediocrity. The patchwork was intended to impart a certain amount of elegance, but instead succeeded in accomplishing the opposite.
The interior wasn’t any better: the robot-guard had been replaced by a drug-and-soda vending machine and an old-fashioned interphone that didn’t even have a display screen. Laorcq pressed the button next to the name Geekler several times but received no answer. In a fit of pique, he pressed three or four other buttons.
A shrewish voice rang out suddenly. “Yes? Who’s there?”
The Kenval Incident Page 8