The Aleph Extraction

by Dan Moren

  Brody jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “What about your friend?”

  “She… she ran.”

  “Well, shit. We should call in reinforcements.” He lifted a hand to his ear.

  Addy snaked out a hand and caught his wrist before he could trigger the comm. “No. Not yet. I can fix this. I can find her.”

  Brody’s eyes softened and Addy bit her tongue. She didn’t need pity or favors. She just needed a minute to get her bearings so she could figure out how to track Schenk down. “Please.”

  After a moment, Brody lowered his hand and gave her a nod, his expression turned serious for once. “What’s your plan?”

  Addy almost heaved an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got less than ten minutes before the commander will want an update. You know this Schenk pretty well – where would she go?”

  She had known Schenk pretty well. Once upon a time. They’d crewed together on Nova, when Addy was a teenager who was small enough to get into the kind of tight spaces that opened up possibilities: ventilation ducts, cracked windows, maintenance tunnels. Schenk had helped Addy learn how to case likely targets, jimmy her way inside, and find and disable security systems. Generally all while Schenk waited in the comfort of a nicked hovercar a block away. Because she’d always had an escape plan – at least for herself.

  “Someplace she feels safe.”

  “It’s a big station. That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

  Not just safe, though. Schenk was a woman of creature comforts. She wasn’t going to hole up in, say, a sanitation tunnel. No, she’d built a life for herself here, and she wasn’t going to throw that away.

  Raising her sleeve, Addy tapped a command and a holoscreen flickered to life, displaying the station directory that had automatically been loaded when they arrived on Jericho. At a swipe of her fingers, the display morphed into a three-dimensional model.

  On one end of the station’s long cylinder was the Imperium’s embassy; the Commonwealth’s sat on the opposite end. Like the rest of the galaxy, Jericho Station was balanced between the two superpowers, with a lot of innocent people in the middle.

  Brody peered over her shoulder. “The maintenance crawlways aren’t on there.”

  “Not looking for them,” said Addy. Her eyes scanned through the listing of establishments that she’d pulled up and sorted into categories. There had to be a place on the station; it was far too well populated to not have one–

  “Gotcha,” she muttered, staring at the glowing blue letters.

  “A coffee shop?” Brody said.

  “Two levels down, near the arboretum. Nearest lift is around the corner.” She dismissed the screen with a snap and turned on her heel, Brody continuing to dog her track.

  “Great,” he said. “Perfect time for a coffee break.”

  Addy sighed, part of her wishing she’d just kept going after she’d knocked him over. But he hadn’t ratted her out to Taylor or Kovalic, so she supposed he was OK. “Look, Schenk’s a creature of habit. As long as I’ve known her, she never went without her morning cup: beans from Phayao Province, dark roasted. It’s only carried by a few places – like this one. If she’s a regular, they might know her.”

  “Uh huh,” said Brody, as they reached the lift tube and Addy punched the down arrow. “And the last time you saw her before this was…?”

  “Before I joined up. Six years ago.”

  “And no chance she decided to change her ways between then and now. Make do with the artificial stuff? Maybe kick her caffeine fix altogether?”

  A gentle chime sounded and the doors slid open. “Schenk? Not a chance.” At least she hoped so. She punched the button for level 1 and the lift car smoothly zipped towards the lower level.

  Leaning against the wall of the elevator, Brody drummed his fingers against the handrail. “So,” he said. “What’s the story with you and this Schenk character?”

  Addy grunted. She was confident Kovalic had shared her record with Taylor and probably the sergeant too – but she wasn’t sure about Brody. He hadn’t treated her with the same standoffishness as the others. Maybe that was just the way he was, or maybe he was just really good at playing dumb.

  “We grew up together,” she said finally. “Got into a few scrapes.”

  “Ah. Been there.”

  Addy raised an eyebrow in his direction, trying to figure out whether Brody really had any idea what he was talking about, but the lift took the opportunity to arrive at their level.

  They stepped out onto a bustling promenade, far busier than the old world dereliction of the Venezia district. Crowds milled among the boutiques that lined the walkway, awash with the wafting smells of cooking meat and spices. It made Addy’s stomach rumble, but she focused in on one particular smell.

  Coffee.

  It didn’t take long to track down the coffee stand: Lao’s Bean Roasters had a line out its door. Addy, disoriented, glanced at her sleeve. Station time was half an hour into first rotation, meaning there were a lot of folks getting up and heading to work.

  “We don’t have time for this,” she said, pushing her way into the store and earning dirty looks from the crowd.

  “Pardon me,” said Brody from her wake. He had a genial smile for all the people she had barged through. “Excuse me. Sorry about this!”

  Planting herself in front of the delivery counter, Addy tried to catch the eye of the barista.

  “I hope you’ve got a plan,” Brody murmured as he caught up. “Because you just pissed off a lot of caffeine-deprived people.”

  “’Course I have a plan,” said Addy, waving at the barista, a young woman with short black hair and a nano-ink dragon tattoo rippling on her arm.

  The barista looked non-plussed at Addy flagging her down. “You can order over there.” She jerked a thumb at the counter and the long line snaking from it.

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine who comes in here. A few inches taller than me, big pink mohawk?”

  The barista blinked. “What?”

  Addy tried not to let her exasperation show through, an attempt with which she was not wholly successful. “Pink mohawk. Muscular. Works in maintenance.”

  “You station security or something?”

  Before Addy could open her mouth, she felt Brody step forward beside her. “Someone’s been going around clogging all the toilets in the public washrooms on Level 3. We thought she might be able to help us track them down before they cause more mischief.”

  Light filled the barista’s eyes. “I knew it. Assholes. Every time I want to use one, it’s always out of order. Just last week, I was–”

  “It’s a nuisance,” Brody interrupted with a smile. “Do you happen to know where we could find her? It’s really important.”

  “Oh,” said the barista, instinctively smiling back. “Yeah, she comes in here every morning. I think I heard she works over in maintenance bay 7L.” She leaned over the counter and pointed. “A couple sectors down that way.”

  “Thanks,” said Brody. “You’re a life saver.” He made to take Addy’s elbow, apparently thought better of it, and then just gestured back to the promenade. The crowd shot them more dirty looks on the way out.

  “I could have handled it,” said Addy, when they’d emerged from the throng.

  “I know. But the point of a team is that you don’t always have to.”

  Addy swallowed her objection and they walked in silence for a moment, passing by eating establishments from every old Earth country that Addy knew and a few that she didn’t. There was even a place selling traditional Novan saucers: flat cakes studded with fruit. She’d stolen one once, as a kid. Hell, that’s how she had met Schenk for the first time – the older girl had seen Addy nick it and tripped the shopkeeper chasing after her, letting them both make their escape.

  Funny thing: she didn’t even like saucers that much. She’d just been that hungry.

  “Thanks,” she said finally.


  “For what?”

  “For having my back. How’d you know that would work?”

  “You could say I’ve had some experience on the other side of that equation. Nothing gets people angry faster than broken toilets. Trust me.”

  Not for the first time Addy found herself wondering exactly who the hell she’d fallen in with.

  Maintenance Bay 7L proved to be in Jericho’s docking ring. The hatch slid aside at their approach, opening onto a cavernous space. Engineers and techs in jumpsuits similar to the one Schenk had been wearing were clumped around panels and conduits, some conferring while others were buried elbows deep in wiring.

  Near the hatch, one middle-aged guy with a black shoulder-length mane caught sight of them and frowned, pushing away from the panel he’d been working on. “Can I help you?”

  Careful, or they’ll close ranks tighter than armor plating. “Yeah, I’m from a bar up on 2. Our pay terminal’s on the fritz, and my boss sent me down here to talk to someone named…” She furrowed her brow as though she were trying to remember a name. “Schott? Shank?”

  The guy grinned. “Schenk. Yeah, that’s one of her specialties.” He scratched his chin. “She stepped out, but she should back any minute, if you don’t mind waiting.”

  Addy tried on the smile she’d seen Brody use, hoping it didn’t look too frightening. “We don’t mind that at all.”

  They’d no sooner taken up a spot leaning next to the hatchway when the comm in Addy’s ear crackled to life.

  “Trapshot, what’s your twenty?” Taylor’s voice had taken on a sharp tone. Well, sharper. Addy opened her mouth to respond but Brody beat her to it.

  “Sparrowhawk, this is Tailwind. I’ve got eyes on Trapshot. She’s reeling it in. Give us a beat.”

  There was a hesitation before Taylor’s voice came back, and when it did, the irritation had turned to grudging acknowledgment. “Copy that, Tailwind. Give me a sitrep in fifteen.”

  “You got it. Out.” Brody gave her a look. “That’s as much time as I can buy us.”

  Something in Addy rebelled at the idea of owing anybody a favor, even if it was one of her new teammates, but she managed to tamp that down. “Thanks. The good news is it’s all we’ll need,” said Addy, straightening up as the hatch groaned open.

  A pink-mohawked figure strolled in, whistling a jaunty tune to herself, and Addy’s mouth curved up. Gotcha. She slid off the wall, closing the distance as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

  “Hey, Schenk!” called the man they’d spoke to. “Got some business for you.” He waved in their direction.

  Schenk frowned and turned to face them, realizing her mistake even as she did so.

  Addy dropped an arm around the woman’s shoulder. Schenk stiffened, but caught sight of Brody, whose right hand was resting meaningfully in his jacket pocket. Addy stifled a laugh; Taylor hadn’t let them go out armed – some policy of Kovalic’s, apparently.

  Then again, Schenk didn’t know that.

  Addy couldn’t quite banish the smirk from her lips as she watched Schenk’s face fall. “I don’t think we were done with our conversation, honey.”

  CHAPTER 8

  It didn’t take long for Sayers to get the information they were looking for out of Schenk. Eli leaned against the wall, watching, and reminded himself not to get on his new teammate’s bad side. If anything, she’s enjoying this a bit too much.

  “Ofeibia Xi?” said Eli as they walked away, leaving Schenk glaring daggers after them. “Who the hell is that?”

  Sayers gave him a sideways look. “Really? You live in a cave or something?”

  Five years on a planet disconnected from the rest of the galaxy, but I won’t split hairs. “Let’s just say I’m not tapped into the whole ‘criminal underworld’ thing.”

  “She runs the White Star Syndicate.”

  “Ah.”

  She eyed him. “You don’t know what that is either, do you?”

  “That’s a hard nope.”

  “Christ.”

  “Hey, do you know how to use a flier to stop a maniac from crashing himself and his extremely important passenger into the ground? We’ve all got our areas of expertise.”

  Nothing but a blank stare. I probably shouldn’t be talking about that, anyway. “So, what’s the White Star Syndicate?”

  Sayers hung a left down the hallway, heading back in the direction of the lingering aroma of coffee. “One of the most powerful criminal organizations in the galaxy. Xi built it up herself, from scratch – which, in those circles, means she managed to take over at least two or three separate gangs on which to build her power base.”

  “Sounds like a real charmer.”

  “She’s dangerous as hell is what she is,” said Sayers, her brow knitting. “I can understand why Schenk was freaking out. If we’re going to go after Xi, we’re going to need to be extra careful. And cover all our bases.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” said Eli, punching the button for the lift. “The major, he’s a bit of a planner. Commander too, come to think of it. No wonder they make such a…” he trailed off, coughing awkwardly. Definitely should not be discussing personal business.

  But Sayers’s eyes had lit up. “They make a…?”

  “Nothing,” said Eli hastily. “Just a…a good team.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Eli punched the elevator button again. A couple times. He tried to ignore Sayers’ eyes boring into his neck. “Anyway, where do we find this Xi?”

  A chime announced the lift’s arrival, and after the people inside emptied out, he and Sayers had the lift to themselves. He punched the button for the docking level.

  “I know she has a ship,” said Sayers, leaning against the wall of the lift.

  “Head of a criminal syndicate? I should hope at least one.”

  “A big one, I mean. The Queen Amina. A starliner, packed with hotel, casinos, restaurants, the lot. Cruises from system to system, even through the bottleneck. Makes a great front for all her shady business.”

  “You seem to know a lot about her operation. Ever met her?”

  A strand of brown hair fell into Sayers’s eyes as she shook her head. “No. But I used to run in… similar circles. When I was younger.” Her mouth suddenly snapped shut, her eyes darting away.

  I’m not the only one saying too much, I guess. Not wanting to talk about the past was an impulse Eli understood well enough. But he’d also learned that the longer he kept things bottled up inside, the more likely they were to eventually explode.

  “Well, at least we know where we’re going and who we’re up against. I guess that’s something.”

  Sayers pushed herself off the wall, pacing around the lift compartment. “So now what? We sit around and wait?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. The major’s not one to waste time.”

  Kovalic eyed the docking port with studied disinterest as he strolled past, casual as you please. As soon as Sayers and Brody had called in the intel, Nat had checked and found that, yes, Xi’s ship, the Queen Amina, was indeed in the Jericho system, on the current stop of its galaxy-spanning cruise. A cruise which no doubt enabled Xi to do her other business at every port of call along the way. He’d grabbed Tapper to do a quick recon.

  The guards on either side of the hatchway weren’t obviously armed, but they carried themselves with the poise of training – they wouldn’t have any trouble handling angry, entitled passengers on a luxury liner. The white five-pointed stars on their shoulders stood out in stark relief against their all-black uniforms.

  “Professionals,” said Tapper as they stopped by the window of the duty-free shop next to the gate. Kovalic focused on guards in the window’s reflection; they were alert and standing at attention, despite the lack of any supervisory presence.

  Then again, when Ofeibia Xi was your boss, it probably didn’t take much motivation to be on your best behavior.

  Kovalic knew Xi by reputation only, but
it was a reputation that preceded her with bold and bloody action. The Phoenix Cartel and the Marfud had been the two biggest casualties of the gang war that had left Xi sitting pretty, controlling a huge chunk of arms deals and smuggling throughout the galaxy. Kovalic had seen the reports from CID and the Commonwealth Security Bureau: Xi made her living selling weapons to terrorist organizations like the Black Watch and Nova First, as well as doing business with governments, including the Hanif Collective, the Imperium, and – Kovalic suspected, though the reports he’d read had carefully not mentioned it – the Commonwealth itself. Politically discriminating she was not.

  But apparently she was also, in her copious spare time, quite the collector of rare artifacts, which explained why she’d made a play for the Aleph Tablet. Or maybe she was intrigued as anyone else about whatever secrets it supposedly contained. The weapons of an ancient civilization could no doubt fetch a pretty penny, assuming the stories of the tablet were real and she could figure out how to decipher whatever information it contained.

  “Huh,” said Tapper, peering through the window. “Should we buy a bottle of Saltyre’s for Brody? Surprisingly cheap.”

  “I think he’s given up the hard stuff,” Kovalic murmured, still studying the guards.

  “Maybe I’ll buy one for myself then.”

  Kovalic glanced up at the holographic display shimmering over the gate. The Queen Amina departed tonight at 23:25 for its next stop in the Hamza system.

  He and his people would have to be on it.

  He’d left Nat working on getting them berths onboard, though he was still running the numbers on how to divide his team for maximum usefulness – and maximum staying-out-of-trouble.

  “Any idea how much security we’re looking at onboard?”

  Tapper shook his head. “I bought a round at my favorite dockworkers’ bar, but all I found out – aside from the reminder that those bastards can drink – was that Xi doesn’t hire outside firms for her muscle. It’s all in-house, every guard personally vetted by her security chief, a guy named Cortez. The Queen Amina might be registered under a shell company, but I hear it’s her pride and joy, so, long story short, I’m going to guess the security presence is heavy.”