by Richard Fox
Molly did a double take at her slate then raised a finger.
“But the director—”
“Make a note in my file.” Hulegu slapped a palm to a bio reader and a panel fell open, revealing a red handle with a flame icon on it.
“I can hear you!” Hower called out. “You left the mic open, thanks for that. Burning me would be a particularly nasty error. Hulegu, is it?”
“One faulty seal is all it takes.” Hulegu grabbed the handle. “I’m not going to end my career drowning in my own lungs for this leaf-eater.”
“But then where will you get your antibodies?” Hower tapped his stomach. “Do a virology study of the entire planet? Do you really have time for all that?”
Hulegu scowled.
“And do you have anyone else aboard that knows the Tyr? How to handle them?” Hower asked.
“That’s what I was getting at,” Molly said. “In exchange for your continued service here as an advisor, Director Zike will double your reserved pay and you’ll accompany us back to Paradise IX after the clients arrive and take possession.”
“Double?” Hower cocked his head to one side. “Double my pay and my percentage on any exploited creatures native to this system.”
Hulegu scoffed and gripped the handle tighter.
“Agreed.” Zike’s voice came from the slate.
Hulegu narrowed his eyes at Argent as she turned the slate around, showing the open channel to the bridge.
“I needed you on record if you were going to…” she whispered and pointed at the switch that would immolate Hower with a flash of heat.
“The Tyr have nuclear weapons,” Hower said. “Rocket tech advanced enough to reach this nexus point as well. One explodes close enough and there goes the wormhole. You’d like some help identifying where those weapon systems are, wouldn’t you?”
“Where? We’ll bombard the place from orbit and be done with it,” Hulegu said.
“We’re certain one such place is a base in Mount Bagad, but Tyr has several factions and where the second major power keeps their warheads is a bit…bit more difficult to ascertain. But I can help with that. The Tyr are deeply superstitious. With the correct approach, we can have them under control without the risk of a nuclear exchange. May I suggest a bit more of a…lighter touch at first?” Hower said.
“You mean negotiate with the indigs?” Hulegu shook his head. “In the meantime, Daniel Clay is dirtside. Who does he know and what can he do?”
“He’s a fool!” Hower made to get up, but the tug of his mask hose kept him seated. “He spent the entire assignment documenting Tyr power structures and cultural nonsense. Nothing that could ever be licensed or put to actual use by the company. An idealist with no—”
“He was Compliance,” Hulegu said. “He knows how to fight.”
“So? The Tyr are still driving around tanks and are in their second generation of jet fighters. The main nation dismantled most of its military after it wiped out the Slaver Nation and they’ve only rearmed these last two years because—”
“Spare me the lesson. You were masquerading as some sort of messenger subspecies? Who can he contact? If the Tyr are going to launch missiles in the next few hours, then we need to know about it.”
Hower laughed and slapped his knee.
“We were Linkers. We were escrow agents and middlemen for money transfers. The occasional adjudication between castes. If he approaches a Royal with some wild story about an alien ship behind the cursed moon, they’ll throw him out on his ass.”
“So we have time.” Hulegu rubbed his chin.
“But don’t set foot down there without the right immunities,” Hower said. “There’s a particularly nasty adenovirus in the kingdom. There’s a strain to the south that’s a bit weaker as more castes have mixed. I got a touch of it before—but I recovered! Don’t immolate me, please.”
Hulegu lowered his hand from the switch.
“About that,” Argent said, trying to nudge Hulegu aside, but he was like a statue. “I need your release for the company to do a full blood and bacterial screening. The company already owns any immunities you may be carrying, but taking enough to jump-start an inoculation program will be a bit more…invasive than usual.”
“Do I have a choice?” Hower asked.
Hulegu reached for the switch.
“Fine! Fine, I consent. What do I do now?” Hower asked.
“Now the remote surgeon will take some samples.” She pressed a thumb against her pad. “I’m afraid that our onboard anesthetic hasn’t been tuned to your slightly alien bloodstream. That won’t be available for the procedure. So sorry.”
Metal cords shot out of the wall behind Hower and wrapped around his shoulders and waist. They slammed him against the wall and more restraints went around his forehead and knees, securing him in a crucifix pose.
A robot lowered from the ceiling of the isolation cube and a dozen metal arms tipped with needles folded out.
Hower struggled, but there was nothing he could do.
Argent turned away as the screams began.
Hulegu stayed to watch, a slight smile on his face.
Chapter 10
Daniel—in his Tyr guise—watched from the hangar hidden in the cliffside as the shuttle flew away. He waved goodbye to his wife as it lowered to just over the ocean and sped away.
“What if they see her?” Michael asked as the rock façade closed over the opening. “It’s broad daylight and you two never stopped harping on how the Tyr can know nothing about who or what we really are.” The boy nearly had his synth on and was pressing against his arms and chest to tighten the layer against his body. The Linker face and scalp hung from the back of his neck.
“If some fisherman sees the shuttle and says anything, they’ll be laughed at. The military picks her up on radar and they’ll think it’s some Worthy People’s airplane.” Daniel went to a wall locker and jerked on the handle. He looked at his palm and then reached into a pocket.
“They’ve already reset the biometric locks.” He quickly squeezed a coin on a bracelet and then flung the locker open.
“What is that?” Daniel asked. “You and Mom used that on the shuttle.”
“Black-market tech. An electromagnetic pulse sends company equipment into a rest cycle.” He looked over the contents of the wall locker: four gauss submachine guns, two pistols, and magazines full of small metal slugs. He grabbed four X-shaped, dull-black metal harnesses from the back and slung them over his shoulder.
“That’s what we’re going to use to fight Corporate? Enough gear for four people?” Michael asked.
“It’s better than nothing,” Daniel said. “No use giving it to the Tyr. Their material science is about three centuries behind being able to even dismantle any of this tech.” He drew one of the pistols out of the holster and looked at his son.
“I don’t know how to use that,” Michael said.
“It’s something fathers should teach their sons…just something I hoped you’d never have to learn.” He opened a drawer containing several Tyr scrolls and battery packs. “Dump clothes. We need to pack all this up.”
“Wait…” Michael put his face on and tried to speak through two sets of lips. “Wait—why do you and Mom have black-market stuff that Uncle Aaron never knew about?”
“Son, your mom and I had a life before you and this mission.” Daniel wrapped the weapons in clothes and stuffed them into a suitcase. “There’s a lot to it…and if I tell you, then there’s a risk the wrong people will know it too.”
“Who am I going to tell, the Tyr?”
“If you’re…captured.” Daniel snapped the case shut and carried it up the stairs. “Corporate has tech that knows when you’re lying. If you don’t know the truth, they can’t try and take it from you—but I’ll tell you what they do know.”
He pushed the hatch up and there was a mad scramble as mistles ran out of the house.
“After an assignment—the same one where I met your mother—w
e were approached by a certain…organization.” He left the cabin with Michael in tow and used keys to open the car trunk. “This organization believed that there was more to the current science behind how so many sentient species appeared in the galaxy at around the same time. You’ve noticed that the Tyr are…similar to humans in a lot of ways.”
“But that’s because of evolutionary efficiency. Bipeds are naturally better able to adapt to their surroundings and—you’re shaking your head at me.”
“What was the one rule Corporate made you, a six-year-old boy, remember before we arrived here?”
“No biological study of intelligent species,” Michael said. “But that’s because of what happened with the Reptilians. An experiment jump-started their evolution and then they became a threat to us.”
“And after that, the Combined Terran Governments declared all nonhuman species as hostile and subject to extermination. No one thought that was an overreaction after the Strike killed tens of billions on Earth,” he said, placing the bag in the trunk and shutting the door. “But there’s more to it.” He turned and leaned on the bumper. “Before that edict, a few other alien species in fringe space were gene sequenced and they came back as…human. Mostly human.”
“Wait, what?” Daniel asked.
“Human, but modified at the genetic and cellular levels to survive on their planets.”
“That’s not possible. The first contacts after the Reptilians were all several nexus jumps from Earth. We didn’t have the tech until—”
“Wasn’t us that modified those from the Second Meeting. After things went bad in the war against the Reptilians, no one wanted to ask those hard questions. Then corporations got the green light to clear out colony worlds to put more distance between the CTG and the Reptilians. Where’s this going, son?”
Michael tapped his fingers on the chrome. “If the corpos knew that species like the Tyr are human…then they couldn’t just take planets without any repercussions from the Combined Governments. But…wait, the Tyr don’t believe they evolved from here.”
“The gods put them here to be watched and tested,” Daniel said, nodding. “Another decade or so, and they’ll have the tech to contrast their DNA against species that are native. There aren’t any primates on this planet. No fossil record of them either.”
“Whoa, whoa….then that means,” Michael looked to the sky, “some gods really did put them here? But then that means…whoa.”
“The rabbit hole goes pretty deep.” Daniel opened the front passenger door and detached the House AI core from the overhead light. “The implications of that question…so the Combined Governments don’t want it asked or answered, neither do the corporations. So no DNA tests on the Tyr. Your mother and I are part of a society that’s trying to get answers. If we get proof, then this,” he pointed to Kleegar, the dark moon just barely visible against the blue sky, “will stop. No more killing sentients…sentient humans at least.”
“You think so? Have the Combined Governments really stopped fighting each other?”
“They did soon as the Reptilians became enough of a threat. Corps might tread on each other’s territory from time to time, but they don’t let word get to the big players. So your mother and I are in a society that’s trying to prove that species like the Tyr are human—human enough.” He uncovered the AI core and walked to a dead fire pit.
“House,” he said and clicked a corner.
“Alert! Unauthorized access by non-Bahadur-Getty Incorporated personnel. Return this piece of proprietary technology or you will incur license fees up to and including—”
“I’m sorry, House. Nothing personal.” He drew a pistol and shot the fire pit. Blue laser bolts ignited desiccated logs.
“Wait.” The voice from the box changed to Zike’s. “This is Clay, isn’t it? Missiles must not have worked…”
Daniel waved Michael into the car.
“Turn back,” Daniel said. “Just forget this place exists or you’ll regret it.”
Zike chuckled, the sound forced and without emotion. “I’m aware of your history,” Zike said. “You should have kept your augmentations, no nagging guilt to deal with as time passes. You’re in a position to either cause my operations a degree of difficulty…or be value-added. This is your last chance. Get these Tyr to cooperate and some of them may survive—on reservations or in show villages. There’s potential as tourist attractions.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know what the company does to anything that gets in their way. No survivors. Ever. Has that changed?”
“There’s always an opportunity for alternate income streams. But if gaining their compliance becomes cost-prohibitive, then my duties—and Hulegu’s—are quite clear. Start acting like you’re value-added and I’ll have you and your family returned to Luna, at no cost to you. You’ll be penniless, but you’ll be alive.”
“I’ve made my decision. You made yours when you tried to kill us. Last warning, Zike. Go home.”
The AI core glowed yellow and singed his fingers. He tossed it into the fire, where it crumbled into ash.
“Dad?” Michael asked from the front seat.
Daniel tucked the pistol into the folds of his tunic and got in the car.
“We’re going back to King’s Rest. We’ll link up with your mother there. Should take a few days before Hulegu and a Reaver team are immunized…until then we need to get the Tyr into action.”
“How?”
“They need to know there’s a threat…and then they’ll need a hero. And I know just how to get them going.”
Chapter 11
Hower spread butter across a warm slice of bread. His mouth watered as he took in the scent of what he knew were reconstituted macronutrients doused with artificial colors and flavors. A bite later and it almost tasted like the real thing. Almost.
His stomach cramped and he pressed a forearm against the many puncture marks and sutures still raw on his skin. He took a long sip from a cup full of orange electrolyte water, but he still felt parched.
The door to his quarters opened and a blast of disinfected air blew in. Zike emerged from the white cloud by himself and with no protective equipment, not even a cheap surgical mask.
Hower squinted at the director. “I’m still quite infectious, you know, even after your damn robots took significant amounts of my blood and gut biome. That Hulegu of yours might be on his way over with a flamethrower.”
“I received an immunity serum from your sample, thank you.” Zike sat across the small table from where Hower had his dinner tray. “Synthesizing more in a timely fashion is proving difficult. We need more stock to get the clients situated on schedule.”
“Now just a damn second.” Hower dropped his butter knife. “Do you know what it’s like to have your intestinal layer scraped out by a—”
“My staff virologists identified a number of gaps between what you were carrying and the initial settlement location. Legacy data from previous missions. Shame we couldn’t get newer data from your shuttle, but the same virologists are certain there hasn’t been enough time for a drift in the local diseases.” Zike sniffed the air and scowled at Hower’s food. “We’re on a timeline, Mr. Hower. The client is rather…particular.”
“And who is this client? I haven’t had actual faux-dairy in so long. No mammalian species on Tyr to be milked. Can your fabs do a pizza?” He dipped his buttered bread into a bowl of soup.
“The Golden Light,” Zike said.
“The cult!” Hower jumped back in his seat, banging his knees against the bottom of the table. “Ow! The company is dealing with those-those fanatics?”
“A lot has happened since you left Corporate space. The Combined Governments lifted a number of sanctions on previously…proscribed groups…to encourage further colonial efforts. The Golden Light had a number of disagreements with the local government on Paradise, and they received a grant to emigrate.”
“They bribed the cult to get them the hell off their planet,” Hower said
flatly.
Zike wagged a finger at him.
“They won’t leave a single Tyr alive…” Hower wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Is that a problem?”
Hower sat back and folded his hands over his stomach. “No. No, to hell with them all. My wife…she was…lost. Lost when one of their more barbaric castes raided a town she’d stopped in for shelter during a winter storm. We never recovered her remains. Not unusual after a Slaver attack.”
“Unfortunate, but you are her surviving spouse and back pay and wages will be credited to you.” Zike tapped fingers against each other.
“Your sympathy is…palpable.” Hower pushed his plate away. “What do you want from me, Director? How many immunity doses have you made so far? Because I don’t know how much more I have to give.”
“Just the one,” Zike said.
“And it went to you…first?”
“I am the mission director. Hulegu won’t inoculate himself until there’s enough for his entire platoon of Myrmidons.” He rolled his eyes. “As such, we need more. Preferably from Tyr of this region.” Zike touched a finger to a band on his wrist and flicked it at Hower. A holo map appeared over the table with a highlighted region.
“Those are the Azure Islands, ancestral home of the Royal caste and where the Tyr have their most important temples.” Hower sucked in his bottom lip. “Why that spot? There isn’t more valuable real estate on the planet. Why not do fallout remediation on the Slaver lands? The Tyr will give those up for free, and in their eyes, you’d be—”
“These Slaver lands…here?” Zike pointed to a chain of islands on the opposite coast from the Azure Islands, across the largest continent on the planet. Radiation symbols dotted the land mass, and lower readings spread across scattered island chains and a massive ocean that took up most of a hemisphere.
“They were famed for their natural beauty before the last war put an end to the Slaver caste as a political entity. Savages,” spat Hower. “Famous for raiding the plains and murdering every male Tyr they came across, took every female capable of breeding with them, killed any past their prime. Centuries of wars until—”