Void

by Matt Thomas

"And what do you think that is?"

  Lind didn't respond. Vannin's arm exploded forward, striking an unidentifiable button on the wall next to him. Jolts of pain overwhelmed Lind, far worse than he had experienced in the previous shocks and lasting longer. He convulsed and tried not to bite his tongue while his arms and legs slapped into the table.

  "What do you think I do?" Vannin asked again.

  Lind refused to answer again, and, again, Vannin reached for the trigger, but stopped before he struck the button. "I find it interesting that you'd rather live a life on the run, or be dead, than do basically the same job you were doing."

  "I don't..."

  Vannin laughed at him. "Yes, you do. I need you to move past that 'not killing people' thing. You've killed plenty of people. You also need to consider that the only authority that gives you power to do anything is just a piece of paper. It's not even real paper, it's a bunch of code in a computer somewhere that people signed with a fingerprint. You kidnap people - or did kidnap people, I should say, since you're pretty clearly done with your previous employer - based upon some authority no one ever bothers to read any more. For a hundred years, people have done what Thirty-Twos tell them to do because their bosses say so and because people for a hundred years have done the same thing. So you can't thump The Contract like a bible and tell people you're doing the founder's work. You make commerce easier in a place where it's tough to file a lawsuit. That's it. By now, I'm willing to bet you know that I serve the same function. I'm just more effective."

  Lind coughed instead of yelled. "But with what authority? Who gives you permission to do the things you do?"

  "We'll save that discussion for after we've had another conversation. Let's start at the beginning. You come across a suicide near Iapetus and decide that it's worth all this effort. Why?"

  "It wasn't a suicide."

  "Obviously, but you didn't know that at the time."

  Out of pride, or arrogance, Lind shook his head. "I did know that at the time. I found the distress call, I found the radiation signature history I'm willing to bet belonged to this ship, and I found that the box was missing. I'd have to be lazy to think of that as a suicide."

  "And yet there are those in your occupation - most, I'd wager - who would have done just that. It's never happened to me before. See, that's exactly why I think you'd be an asset. No stone unturned. I like that."

  "The explosion on the station wasn't subtle either."

  "Well, sometimes when things don't go as planned, you have to improvise. I'm only one person, after all. At least for now."

  "Stop trying to recruit me."

  "If I stop trying to recruit you, then circumstance change and my treatment of you gets a bit more... abrasive. We're having a pleasant conversation right now. Why would you want that to end?"

  Lind opened his mouth, but Vannin struck the button again. "The question was rhetorical." He said once he had reduced Lind to a panting heap on the table.

  Mercifully, Vannin gave him a moment to catch his breath. Without another word, Lind's captor stepped out of the room for a few minutes, only to return, sipping on a cup of coffee.

  "So how exactly did you know it was me?"

  Lind considered not answering. "Chance."

  "Boring."

  Lind shrugged, risking another hit from the device on his back.

  "We happened across that Guppy. The one you stole the Comb from."

  Vannin looked at him skeptically. "That probability is extremely small."

  "We left shortly after they did and they were already at the edge of our sensor range, but we found them. And you left one guy alive who got a photo of your face. I got a match off of an Earth database."

  For a moment, his captor appeared deep in thought. "That guy on the bridge lived?"

  "Well, no." Lind conceded. "He accidentally recorded you with his tablet before he died."

  "And that tablet is where? On your Mako?"

  Lind nodded.

  Vannin sighed. "I guess I'll have to add that to the list." He didn't say what list he was talking about, but the way he both acknowledged and dismissed it simultaneously threw Lind off. Before he could recover, Vannin continued. "That took you to Ephemeris, and, let me guess, Ephemeris records gave you Parker. Parker confirmed it was me, and spaced himself. So really, all you have at this point is you."

  The former investigator didn't answer. For a moment, just a moment, he thought maybe Vannin wouldn't hit the switch. After the next set of convulsions, he shook his head. "Suksi." He managed.

  Vannin laughed. "Well, of course Suksi. Suksi gave you to me. She's pretty pissed about her husband, you know. You'd have thought she'd be over it by now, but no. That was a waste of a jolt, wasn't it?" Vannin reached towards Lind's back, and, with sudden force, ripped the torture device from his prisoner's skin.

  "If you were holding out for that, I guess I have most of my answers. There's really nothing I can do with you until I get some test results back. Why don't you get dressed or something? This might take a while."

  Leaving Lind confused, cold, and still in pain, Vannin disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Vannin locked Lind into the second cabin after the initial interrogation. There he sat for three days, having limited contact with his captor. Why he didn't fight, or try to gain control over Vannin during their brief encounters, Lind couldn't say. The worst Vannin could do was kill him during the attempt, but Lind sensed his own death approaching, anyway.

  No, Lind thoughts simply stopped. After his outburst in the L2H office and the horror he committed by flooding the dock, meaningless violence dismissed so easily by Vannin, Lind found a new depth of empty. His internal guidance had deserted him, he drifted listless, so he stayed put.

  And then he sat, in a mirror of his own cabin, staring at the wall just as he imagined he would have had he not responded to the derelict Marlin. To say the familiar cabin comforted him would not be accurate. But its familiarity eased his mind.

  He could feel the ship's engines and knew they were under power again. Of course, he had no idea where they headed.

  When Vannin appeared again, he had a pistol casually tucked in his belt. "It's time to use the head, Mr. Michaels." He said, waving his arm towards to bathroom.

  "Are you my nurse now?"

  "I'd rather you didn't soil yourself."

  Lind did as directed. Vannin didn't grab him the moment he emerged from the bathroom as he'd half expected. Instead, Vannin guided him back to the top deck to the ersatz lab where he Vannin first tortured him. The items Vannin had pulled off of him days before after his "rescue" remained piled on a counter. It surprised Lind to see the quantum transmitter still hanging, unsecured, next to Lind's discarded identification and tablet. Nothing in the room overtly betrayed a sinister intent, but nothing in the well-lit room made him comfortable.

  Vannin extended the airlock, he said to make more room, something plausible enough since Kay had been in the same habit when using the lab. Then Vannin locked the door to the rest of the Mako and gestured for Lind to sit.

  "Tell me what you know about Rykov."

  Lind shrugged. "I'm not his biographer. I only came into the picture at the end. you know."

  Vannin hit a button the way he may have flipped a light switch. Instantly, Lind's head pounded, lightening flashing through his brain and he struggled to keep from vomiting. Within a second, he had the worst migraine he'd ever experienced. He wanted to curl up on the floor and pass out.

  Just as he was about to collapse, it stopped. The residue remained, the dull ache and light sensitivity disorienting him, but he remained upright. As he recovered, he understood why his captor did not physically restrain him.

  "So that's the lowest setting." Vannin said. "On my most humane, least invasive device. I'm not interested in having a pleasant conversation right now. I don't have time to sleep-deprive you or put you in stress positions for days. You ned to tell me what you know now, and who knows what." />
  "And then you kill me." Lind managed.

  "I'm hoping that won't be necessary. I still think we can work well together. I'd like us to work well together. But my priority is to control information, and I need to know what information I need to control."

  Lind stared back for a long time. Figuring he had nothing to tell, he spoke. "I know his ship was sabotaged by making the computer think the coolant overheated. I know that an unregistered Mako, I'm assuming this one, docked with it."

  "And your theory about why that happened?"

  Lind stared up into Vannin's eyes. "To steal whatever came of Iapetus. Whatever was in that box."

  "Which was?"

  He struggled to understand Vannin's question. "What?"

  "What was in the box, Mr. Michaels?"

  Lind shook his head. "Whatever broke that comb. Some rock or something I guess."

  At this, Vannin laughed. "You think it was a rock? After all this time, you think the motive for killing Rykov, for killing the crew of that Guppy, all of it, was for some rock?"

  Lind had to admit, that, said out loud, his theory was not the strongest. "Maybe it was a diamond or something..." he muttered to himself. While Vannin chuckled, Lind composed himself. "Whatever it was," he said through gritted teeth. "You killed Rykov, you killed the crew of that Guppy, you let all those people die for your own purpose. What does it matter what the motive was?"

  "It matters a great deal. It certainly matters to you." Vannin took a step forward, craning his neck over Lind. "You've hunted me harder than anyone in a long time. You even killed poor Mr. Parker for it." He mocked. "Right now, my motive is your motivation."

  "I didn't kill the Hitchhiker... Parker. I told you. He threw himself out the airlock."

  "You didn't need to hit the button to kill poor Mr. Parker." Vannin replied, without explaining his thoughs further. He didn't need to.

  "Let me ask you, Mr. Michaels, why do you think I do what I do? Generally, of course."

  "Psychopathy."

  Vannin grinned. "Hardly. I make rational, reasoned decisions about how to maintain stability. For the companies I work with, but also for our endeavor of exploration. There are some things that are worth an assumption of risk. What you call psychopathy I call risk management."

  He turned and retrieved a small item from the counter top. Lind hadn't even noticed it sitting there amongst his personal effects.

  Vannin placed the object in Lind's hand. Surprisingly light, it was cool, perfectly smooth, with straight lines interrupted by a sheering, tearing section, like a stick of taffy pulled apart.

  "So what is it?"

  "An unknown alloy." Vannin pointed to a computer screen in the corner. It showed Lind what, to him, were meaningless numbers. "There's a mixture of titanium, platinum, a few rare earth elements thrown in. The composition is uniform. It's light, heat and cold resistant, and incredibly strong. And it doesn't appear in any metallurgy database or patent application."

  Lind couldn't appreciate the science. He twirled the four-inch scrap of metal easily in one hand. "So you went on a murder spree because of some strange piece of scrap metal? It hardly seems worth it."

  For a moment, he thought about striking Vannin in the head with it, bashing the man's brains, bludgeoning him like an animal. He might have been able to get a few blows in before Vannin triggered the torture device planted on Lind. But, before Lind could convert a brief fantasy into action, Vannin took the object back.

  "Think it through, Mr. Michaels. We live in a supposedly closed system. Yes, the occasional contraband makes it past the Hub, but this manufactured object never came through the Hub."

  "Even if you could be sure of that, and I don't think you can, it just means the system isn't as closed as we thought. And we know of that possibility because you and I both have our jobs."

  As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Somehow, after days of being confronted by Vannin, he had conceded the parallels between them.

  Vannin smiled, either in appreciation of Lind's conversion or anticipation of his next statement.

  "This scrap of metal alloy is over fifteen hundred years old."

  Lind remained silent.

  "The tests confirmed it. In other words, Mr. Michaels, this innocuous but strange item predates the Norman Conquest. So, yes, the system isn't as closed as we thought. It isn't even close to closed."

  It took a few beats for Lind to regain his voice. "If that's the case, it should be a major discovery, a huge announcement. Everyone should know about this."

  "Play the tape through to the end, Mr. Michaels. We built the entire economy out here on egocentrism. What happens to the human ego when it realizes that it's not the only game in town? What happens to the network of interdependent businesses, to the money changing hands, to the legacies being built, when those who feed that machine realize that something far more important demands their attention?" He leaned back, crossing his arms confidently, smiling. "Chaos. And chaos is bad for business."

  "You seem to do a fair job of creating chaos all on your own."

  "Thank you. But this is a different kind of chaos. This chaos turns into a search for meaning, not a search for profit. All that money tossed at the Gemini project will look like loose change tossed at a beggar."

  "Have we known?" Lind managed to ask, exploring the implications.

  "Of course."

  "For how long?"

  "Long enough to consider the consequences and plan accordingly."

  "And that plan is, what? You?"

  Vannin spread his arms. "As I said, I believe in risk mitigation."

  "And yet the only risk I see is you."

  Lind started to move. But the pain began, so intense that the universe ceased to exist around him, only the firing of the nerves within his body, only the infinite instants of pain as Vannin sent power surging through him. The torture may have lasted seconds or less, or it may have lasted minutes.

  When, finally, it stopped, the ship became a pulsing blur around him. Each inhale came sharp and exhale ragged. The taste of blood and vomit in his mouth became the most recognizable part of his existence.

  "No, Mr. Michaels." Vannin said, taking a long sip of water as though he had been the one exerting energy. "You created the risks. And, before we take another step on our journey together, I need to be certain, absolutely certain, I'm sure you'll understand, that I know exactly where they are."

  *****

  The last convulsion left Lind draped in the chair, vaguely aware of the damp filth he was sitting in. He struggled, but finally raised his head.

  "Don't be embarrassed." Vannin stared as he wrote something down. "It happens to everyone."

  Lind focused his eyes and made out a list of names on the nearby computer monitor. He couldn't read each one, but he understood what he must have divulged. And what they meant.

  "Everyone?" He murmured. The question he meant to ask had been "Do you really intend on killing everyone just because they stumbled across me?"

  Vannin understood the question anyway, a testament to his singular focus. "Maybe not. I imagine the leadership at Ephemeris will handle their employees; they've been good at that in the past. The workers who smuggled you through Enceladus, definitely. Fortunately, Suksi's man killed the Thirty-Two chasing you. Suksi's people, probably; especially the ones who apparently aren't her people. So no, not everyone. But enough."

  "Why?"

  "Containment, of course." Vannin looked up from his tablet and met Lind's eyes. "You found only a fraction of the information, and look where it led you. We have to quarantine that information before it spreads catastrophically."

  "None of them know anything. I knew nothing to tell them."

  Vannin shrugged. "That seems likely. But not likely enough. You've left a lot of bread crumbs in your journey through the system during the last few weeks. Which brings me back to you."

  Lind winced unintentionally.

  "I know what I ought to do with you, but here's my
point of view. You already know everything. Everyone thinks you're dead, anyway. And you demonstrated the requisite... moral flexibility. Maybe not as refined as one might like, but there's always room for improvement. I haven't had a partner in a very long time, but I'm willing to give it a shot. It's a struggle to fulfill so many needs simultaneously. You can help me be in multiple places at once."

  Lind didn't let the idea build in his head for too long. "If I say no?"

  Vannin shrugged. "Then I kill you, have some lunch, and probably take a nap while en route to kill everyone you've talked to in the last few weeks."

  When Lind flooded the dock on Enceladus, he'd been in despair, but he hadn't thought of it as an act of suicide. It had been an angry impulse, so enraged by Vannin's existence it outweighed that despair, and he did something rash. Sitting slumped in the chair, he had moments to calculate his next move.

  Nothing about Vannin's offer allowed him to regain the control he had begun to lose the instant the meteorite struck his Mako. It didn't stop his drinking, it didn't stop his rage, it didn't give him a plan. A lifetime spent doing whatever Vannin did only made things worse. It would hasten his decay and prolong the inevitable, ruining and destroying lives along the way. How many would die just to contain some knowledge a scarce few found dangerous?

  Perhaps there was a solution, one where everyone he encountered over the previous weeks would survive in their ignorance.

  "Okay." He managed.

  "'Okay' what, Agent Michaels?" Vannin asked, knowing full well what he meant.

  "Okay. I'll do it."

  Vannin stared at him long enough that he questioned the validity of the offer. "Well, I guess I'd better make lunch for two, then. I hope you like pirogies."

  Lind hated pirogies, but that didn't matter. Vannin ripped the adhesive device he had slapped on Lind's back and handed him a damp towel. "You should clean yourself up before we eat. I trust you can find your way around a Mako."

  Then, Vannin erred. He left the room.

  In a perfect world, Lind would have sprang into action. Instead, he took the effort to clean himself up some, wiping his face and the back of his neck. It was a struggle to stand, he had to grasp the edge of the equipment cabinet to steady himself. He didn't care about being confident on his feet, he only needed to reach a little further.