“Bones?”
“That’s it! I’m sure he’ll do.”
“And if he doesn’t want to?”
“Easy: pump him full of crap. You can take this opportunity to try out our new jokal variant.”
For once, Lebrane abstained from objecting to his assignment. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. Anything else?”
“Yes, charter an emergency transport to Procyon. And this time, choose someone trustworthy! Not a young girl under pressure from your little schemes. I’ll tell you where the delivery will be made later, as soon as I find out where they’re hiding.”
Lebrane acquiesced and cut the communication. Morsak then called the Space Regulation Authority.
The SRA provided entry and exit visas for the solar system. Quite rightly known for being a nest of corrupt bureaucrats, this administration skimmed taxes to finance itself.
A state of affairs that suited Morsak’s plans perfectly. He had several SRA employees in his pocket. In exchange for bribes, they gave permits to Idernax ships without asking questions.
“One of them will give me the list of departing ships and their exact destination,” he murmured.
Once this detail was taken care of, he buckled down to take care of secretively thawing out U-Barg.
At the time, prudence had dictated that he stop work on modified humans. However, he had arranged to conserve all of the material and a complete description of U-Barg. Carefully sealed in the basement of another of his company’s buildings, it was all there—he just had to bring it back to life.
Morsak now congratulated himself on his foresight. The aborted project had become his last chance to turn the situation to his advantage. And he couldn’t care less if that ran afoul of the accords signed by all of the intelligent species: he just had to use one of his shell companies and no one would be able to trace it back to him.
At the other end of Nogartha, a limousine dripping luxury was on the move. Lebrane was worried. For good reason: he had also just watched Mallory’s exploits and had been expecting the call from his boss. He’d barely gotten rid of the two women of questionable refinement that he had been with. Bitterly, he considered that Morsak could have talked business in front of them and then ordered him to kill them to avoid any indiscretions.
He punched the door to release his frustration: U-Barg! Morsak himself had decided it was too dangerous, and now he was talking about it openly. He must be about to blow a fuse!
In a flash of anger, Lebrane growled, “If he didn’t pay me so well… And especially, if that old pretentious bearded dude couldn’t destroy me from one day to the next, I would have sent him packing a long time ago.”
His instinct for self-preservation told him this situation was going to end badly. The moment had come to undertake a few low-key financial transactions, far from his boss’s sphere of influence.
Considering the best way to disappear, he altered the limousine’s programming. He needed time to prepare. In the meantime, he should calmly follow orders.
He sighed with fatigue. “Let’s go get that Bones guy!”
Intent on seeing a jufinol, Mallory scanned Stranda’s strange vegetation through the truck’s window. She was curious to see what such a giant worm would look like.
Regretfully, the trip continued without giving her an opportunity. Following the road’s hairpin turns, the van tossed its passengers from side to side. The vehicle’s antigrav was adjusted a bit too softly for her taste. “You’d think we were on a boat,” she observed.
Laorcq couldn’t help but respond. “Don’t tell me you’re seasick!” he laughed.
“Me? No. Torg, on the other hand… Do you have any idea how much vomit a sick cybrid can spew?”
The scarred man’s desire to joke around evaporated immediately and his face turned serious. He examined the colossus, trying to spot any potential illness in his enormous blue eyes.
Mallory burst out laughing and said, “You should see your face!”
Torg commented, “I’m a bit claustrophobic, but I don’t have a weak stomach.”
Laorcq was preparing to reply when the truck arrived at the edge of a cliff. Over the steep drop, Mallory glimpsed an ocean with emerald reflections that stretched as far as the eye could see. Its waves broke against the granite face.
Running along the natural barrier, the road ended at a hemispheric building built precariously on the precipice. Half of it was sitting on long piles that sank into the tide.
After having spent several weeks in the company of humans, Hanosk easily recognized the curiosity on their faces. He spoke, “In front of you, you can see the only visible sign of our presence on this planet. All of the development has been done in tunnels or under water. We have claimed exclusive control of Stranda for the sake of her flora and fauna. The sap of the column-trees and the coral that live in the oceans do wonders for our organisms. From Earth’s point of view, this planet holds no interest, but it is a real treasure to us.”
Mallory examined the dome attentively. She saw a freight elevator descending from a section hanging over the ocean and plunging into the foaming water. Evidently, the part anchored to the rock sheltered the access to the tunnels Hanosk had mentioned.
The truck stopped in front of a large doorway. Without a sound, the metallic panel slid aside. As soon as they reached the interior, the driver cut the engine and went to take care of other tasks.
Mallory gave in to impatience. She felt like common goods being lugged around. Now that she had come to the Vohrns’ aid, she was in a hurry to resolve her pending concerns. Once her father’s name had been cleared and Lebrane was taken care of, she would finally be able to enjoy her freedom.
She decided to remind the alien that he should honor their deal. “Hanosk, I fulfilled my part of the contract. You have what you need to make an antidote for Omsyn. In exchange, you’re supposed to help me.”
“We can’t take you to the Eridane-E sector at the moment,” replied the extraterrestrial. “The virus’ evolution is at a critical stage. Without a cure, a large number of my people will die. You will stay with us while the treatment is being distributed.”
The Vohrn got out of the vehicle and invited them to follow.
“Distributed?” Mallory asked as her feet hit the ground. “Say, your translation box is starting to malfunction. I’m willing to wait, but I want to get the Sirgan back! You’ve never had to travel with a Natural Intelligence complaining for days because he’s been disconnected!”
“Your ship is here, rest assured. Very soon, we will return you to your usual activities.”
Torg and Laorcq got out of the truck in turn. While they followed in the alien’s footsteps, a thought struck Mallory like a lightning bolt: she absolutely did not want to go back to her “usual activities.”
These last few weeks had been turbulent. She had brushed up against death several times. Nevertheless, she had met Laorcq, visited new worlds, traveled with the Vohrns… If I go back to flying between Venus and Mercury, I’ll die of boredom! I should offer my transport services to Hanosk.
In front of her, the extraterrestrial progressed with steps that appeared strange because his knees were articulated in the opposite direction than humans. He declared suddenly, “I must read the information written in you, Captain. I would have preferred you volunteer it, but I can no longer wait.”
Mallory felt her guts liquefy: how did he know? She hadn’t mentioned her conversation with Nanesil in the lab. Well, shit! He’s going to go rummaging around in my brain again!
Morsak decided to go in person to supervise the last stages of U-Barg. A one-seater jet with a bulbous shape transported him straight from Idernax headquarters to his destination. Hindered by his stoutness, he had to contort himself to get out of the cockpit. He managed to extract himself with loud curses about the ship’s designers.
Adjusting his rumpled suit, he contemplated the building standing in front of him: a clinic made up of a large block of concrete in the middle o
f a leafy park.
He thought about what it harbored, and a smile appeared on his lips. He crossed through the doors of the medical establishment with a light step.
The inside was immaculate: walls, floor, and ceiling all shone like new. Along the hallways, lines of color painted about three feet above the ground guided visitors to the various sections.
“Not bad,” he said. “Given the idiots who work for me, I should do this everywhere, so they won’t get lost.”
Thanks to the comfortable budget, preparations had taken less than a week. About twenty specialists had come to work alongside the employees selected from the clinic. Restricted to specific tasks, they were completely unaware of what they were participating in. This didn’t stop them from being effective: everything was perfectly orchestrated. Each delivered results without ever seeing the big picture.
His quick inspection completed, Morsak decided to visit the project manager: Doctor Lovaert.
He entered the office to find it empty. Lovaert must be in the basement. This part of the clinic was reserved for him.
While he waited for his project leader to come back, he made himself at home. He was, after all, wasn’t he?
When Lovaert arrived, Morsak was sitting comfortably in the doctor’s chair, looking over his files. Reports and other diagrams scrolled by on a screen that covered the desk’s surface. He swept away the papers with a gesture and addressed Lovaert in a fake friendly tone. “Doc!”
He discovered with malicious joy that the doctor did not like to be referred to in this way. He continued without giving him the chance to speak. “I noticed that you have used the funds granted to the project astutely. That’s a nice change for me, I must say.”
Morsak took great pleasure in rattling the doctor by switching from disrespect to compliment.
Lovaert, a new employee at Idernax, had never met his boss. He opted for prudent professionalism. “Thank you, sir. I should inform you, on the subject of the volunteer…”
While he hesitated, Morsak scrutinized him. Small and grizzled, he possessed a banal physique. He seemed to be the kind of person who would rely on his status and his experience to compensate. Under Morsak’s insistent gaze, his confidence evaporated.
The CEO of Idernax wasn’t impressive, either. His short beard just managed to provide his thick silhouette with a bit of dignity.
Instead, he asserted himself by using his ability to make other people uncomfortable. Unconsciously, the surgeon must sense the deep disdain he felt toward his subordinates and their lives. He considered them to be disposable tools.
“I’m listening, doc. What’s the problem with regard to our future… protégé?”
He pronounced the last word with delight. His cheerfulness persisted. He was delighted by the idea of using U-Barg to finish off the Vohrns.
“The chances of survival aren’t very high,” the doctor said. “The information we have about Vohrn technology is incomplete. We will do our best, but I can’t guarantee the long-term viability of the results.”
This time, Morsak gave him all of his attention. “Let’s be clear. How much time will he be operational, at minimum?” he asked dryly.
“About two weeks at a hundred percent. After that, the subject’s DNA will degrade. During the five following days, he will only be at seventy percent of his capacities, and then…”
The CEO cut him off. “That’s more than enough! Stop worrying about such details, doc.”
A bell rang out softly. With a vague look on his face, Morsak consulted his navcom. “Perfect! Our guinea pig is in route. You’ll be able to put things into practice.”
XXVI
SURGERY
LEBRANE felt a little better. In the end, he didn’t have much trouble finding his guinea pig. Widen, known to the little hoodlums in his neighborhood by the sobriquet Bones, was jonesing badly when they met. He had agreed to participate in a “clinical trial” without objection in exchange for a dose of jokal.
Subsequently slumped in Lebrane’s limousine, he drooled with a look of bliss on his face. His body was repulsively thin, dirty, and covered with bruises. In exchange for some non-carcinogenic tobacco, a neighborhood kid told Lebrane that the dealer had been beaten up by one of his clients. The criminal supposed that he must have sold him some dope that was a little too cut.
As with anyone who had been addicted to jokal for a long time, the ends of his limbs were becoming necrotic. He was missing a phalanx on one finger, and his ears had been reduced to small, whitish growths. The sight of him sickened Lebrane. Fortunately, his dirty bangs obscured the rest. He really should have used contacts or dark glasses to hide his eyes.
His sclera were bulging and shot through with blood, and his dilated pupils made Lebrane want to plunge a blade into them.
He had grown up surrounded by guys like this, human wrecks barely worthy of contempt. Early in his adolescence, he realized that he could use these people like marionettes. He just had to promise them a dose of good product. He excelled at this activity for years, eventually controlling three groups of dealers. A successful “career,” which led him to collaborate with the CEO of Idernax. In retrospect, he wondered if he hadn’t made a major mistake there.
He chased away this unpleasant thought and returned to his passenger, whose condition he evaluated with a kick to the tibia. Not eliciting any reaction, he said, “You don’t feel a thing. I suppose you can’t hear anything, either. Take advantage—you’re in an idiot’s paradise for the last time.”
Reassured by Widen’s catatonic state, he continued to soliloquize. “If I had been a little less clever, I would have ended up in your place. You’re going to regret having survived, instead of rotting at the end of that alley where I found you. Given my boss’ plans, you’ll soon be envying the dead, Bones…”
Smiling at this bad play on words, he poured himself a whiskey. Comfortably settled in his seat, he focused on the buildings shifting past the tinted window. In the time it took to consume five drinks, the car arrived at the private clinic that housed the U-Barg project. The AI at the limousine’s controls roused him from his alcohol-induced torpor. “We’ve arrived, sir.”
The vehicle stopped in front of the main entrance, and the door opened. Lebrane found a welcoming committee: Lovaert and a nurse standing next to a wheelchair. He looked the woman in the white lab coat up and down with an approving grunt.
Focused on his new patient, the little doctor nodded at him vaguely. With his assistant’s help, he nimbly took charge of the junkie, seating him in the chair and bringing him inside.
Left to his own devices, Lebrane decided to stretch his legs in the park that surrounded the building. He traversed an alley and stopped to urinate against an ancient oak. Lighter, he retraced his steps.
Seeing Morsak sitting on the hood of his limousine, he murmured, “Obviously. Impossible to enjoy a moment’s peace.”
He walked toward his boss and grasped his outstretched hand with sly pleasure in the handshake since he had just relieved himself.
In a condescending tone, Morsak said, “It was worth shaking you up a bit, Lebrane. You’ve recovered your efficiency! I didn’t expect you to bring our friend Bones in so quickly.”
Lebrane pasted a perfectly neutral expression onto his face. Once again, his boss was needling him for his own amusement. Not in the mood to allow himself to be dragged into this little game, he remained silent, forcing Morsak to continue. “Laorcq and your dear Mallory left the system on an Antarian jet. In their haste, I doubt they were able to pull the wool over the space agency’s eyes. They announced they were going to Stranda, and they must have stuck to that plan.”
Morsak stared at the crook to make sure he had his full attention. “That’s where your new transporter should deliver our surprise. He should launch it from low orbit and flee immediately. If he doesn’t do it correctly, he won’t get a cent.”
Lebrane retorted, “And if he refuses or asks me too many questions?”
; “Offer him a fifty percent bonus. Money should be able to motivate him.”
Morsak gave him a few additional instructions and went back into the clinic.
Lebrane was astounded: A bonus! What a joke. This crappy plan is going to end badly. A rookie cop could trace it back to them. Morsak was treating this affair like a minor scheme. It was suicide.
Lebrane sighed tiredly. If he wanted to get out of this safe and sound, he had no choice: he’d have to flee. “Actually, this transport contract has come at just the right moment,” he said to himself. “I’m going to take advantage of it to get out of here, even if it means I’ll never see Earth again.”
While Hanosk guided the humans and the cybrid through the Stranda underground, Mallory thought apprehensively about the impending torture session. She would gladly have passed up transporting the Vohrns’ message etched into her brain. Last time, she had suffered even longer before fainting. Her body must be getting used to it. During the next interrogation, I’ll be able to feel the whole thing!
The décor was unlikely to change her mind: only the weak light projected by the humans’ navcoms illuminated the identical tunnels.
A spiral shaft led them to a level where the tree-columns’ roots wove a thick, knotted web on the ceiling. They then crossed through a large cavern that served as a hangar.
Faithful to their habits, the Vohrns busied themselves there in complete silence. In the shadows, Mallory noticed a pile of cylindrical containers. They were massive and unlabeled, and she wondered what they were for. Like her, Laorcq was intrigued by the enormous cylinders and asked Hanosk about them.
Although she expected an evasive reply, she was surprised to hear the Vohrn answer precisely. “We collect the sap from the tree-columns. It is transported by the underground network, which stretches under the entire forest. Once treated and conditioned, we ship most of the product to Cébalraï.”
The Kenval Incident Page 22