“Clio, Pinter, I’m proud to have known both of you. I really hope we see each other again before too long.” She looked at Cheboi and Gallego next. “And I look forward to getting to know the two of you better. I think we’re going to make a good team. Though I should warn you, my friends don’t seem to last.”
Houte and Cheboi scoffed. Gallego chuckled nervously.
EPILOGUE
EMILE FOUND HIMSELF repeating a pattern that, by now, had become deeply engrained. Once more, Chaput had informed him that a private message had arrived, his eyes and ears only. Once more, he was running to his quarters to witness it. Only this time, there were no overt reminders of the late Pinter Chandresakhar to annoy him.
In addition, he anticipated that for the first time in months, the news was likely to be encouraging. Adler’s team had already fallen upon Auriga’s little helpers and managed to take out almost half of their team. Of course, Adler had wasted time bemoaning the loss of one of his own and demanding that there would be an additional fee for that - nothing Emile wasn’t prepared for. Beyond that, he also reported that their targets were on route to Europa.
Given all these developments, it didn’t seem unreasonable to anticipate that the mission was now over. Alas, Emile realized, the universe worked in cruel and unreasonable ways.
“My entire team... dead. The Cytherean women, Amaru, and the other one... escaped. They managed to commandeer my ship and could be anywhere now. I expect they plan to make life very difficult for you.” The image paused to take a breath. Though alive, he was clearly injured and hadn’t yet recovered. This was the least shocking aspect of the recording, but Emile was still surprised to learn that.
“But I can assure you, they’re not going to find you hiding under your bed in the night, and cut you into tiny pieces,” he continued calmly. “That pleasure I reserve for myself. This is your fault, you fucking Martian bastard. And if it’s the last thing I do, I plan to make sure that you die a terrible, terrible death.”
The image disappeared. Emile sat there for several minutes, unable to move, and barely able to breathe. In time, he grew surprised as his own inactivity. What was he waiting for? For the message to resume? For there to be more? Some kind of explanation?
Perhaps. But in lieu of any of that, his mind felt effectively paralyzed. It wasn’t panic or an impending sense of doom. Were that the case, his bio monitors would be telling him and recommending appropriate action.
No, this was something different. Faced with the unacceptable, his mind refused to respond. It had become all but inert. There was no medical intervention for that. The best he could do was try to address the symptoms.
Some boosted endorphin production, a little norepinephrine, and some helpful narcotics. His mind gradually felt like a logjam that was breaking apart. It didn’t remedy the reality of his situation, but he felt marginally better. In time, he was able to trace the broad outlines of the problem. Calling up an overlay, he prepared to reach out to Chaput. Perhaps he might have some helpful suggestions.
He was surprised when his security chief reached to him first.
[Doctor? Are you there?]
[Yes. I was just about to contact you. We have a very serious problem.]
[I’m aware,] Chaput voked, his irritation coming through clear as day. [Councilor Fionn is here and he’s brought a contingent of officers with him. He’s demanding to speak to you immediately.]
[Fionn again? What is it this time?]
[He didn’t say. I cannot delay them indefinitely. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?]
[Yes. Of course. I’ll be right down.]
Emile paused to adjust the levels of beta blockers and neurostimulants in his bloodstream. He pushed himself up from his desk and basked in the sudden onset of a mild euphoria. It was having the desired effect because the thought of addressing Fionn didn’t feel so bothersome. Annoying as the Councilor was, his presence would provide a break from thinking about Adler and all the other threats in his life.
More to the point, he and Chaput had prepared for this eventuality. If Fionn had somehow managed to cajole the other Councilors into allowing him to search Lovelock, they would find nothing. Assuming, of course, that this was the reason for his latest visit.
When he arrived in the atrium at Sarak Lovelock’s entrance, he tried to gauge Fionn’s intentions from his expression. A smile would indicate that he was on a fishing expedition, a frown would indicate he knew something and wasn’t too happy about it.
When Emile saw him, the expression he was met with could only be described as disappointed. Emile felt a slight twinge of anxiety. This was unknown territory.
“Councilor Fionn,” he said pleasantly. “To what we do owe this pleasure?”
“Doctor Chandrasekhar. I’m afraid this isn’t a social visit. We’ve been authorized by the Martian Council to search the premises and take possessions of your archives.”
Emile frowned. So, it was a fishing expedition, was it? Then why did he look so crestfallen?
“I’m not sure what you hope to find,” Emile responded. “But you’re entitled to conduct your search. We have nothing to hide.”
Fionn was visibly angered by these words. “Doctor Chandrasekhar, I’m doing you the honor of addressing you as a respected peer, and fellow Martian. But don’t insult me with lies. I think you’ve done that enough already.”
Emile didn’t need to feign incredulity. He had plenty of that actual emotion to share. “You’ve got me at a loss, Councilor.”
Fionn didn’t even bother to respond. Raising his hand, he summoned a sleeve of data from his neural loom and offered it to Emile. Pulling up an overlay, Emile accepted the package and began downloading it. The contents were rather massive, but the data began streaming into his mind soon enough.
Emile’s jaw dropped.
“So, you see,” said Fionn, “the contents of the Manifesto have been verified. Doctor Lee’s quantum sleeve, in its entirety. I think you’ll agree, it tells quite the story.”
Emile shut down his overlay. There was no time to think and no point in panicking. Emile went with the only defense he could manage. “That information could easily be a forgery. Did you even determine the source of it?”
“The contents have already been verified!” Fionn boomed. “If you’d bother to look over them, you would see that the data is marked with a copy of Doctor Lee’s quantum encryption key. Those cannot be faked.” Fionn took a step closer to Emile. “Your days of conspiring and hiding are over. From this day forward, pending the completion of our investigation, you’re officially under house arrest.”
Emile looked at Chaput. His security chief’s face was graver than he had ever seen it before. Emile, however, felt strangely calm. It wasn’t the presence of narcotics in his bloodstream that was doing it either.
“I take it my presence here will be ensured by the presence of armed guards?”
He tried to sound incensed at the possibility. For the first time since his arrival, Fionn cracked a smile.
“That is correct,” he said. “Your communications will be strictly monitored, and you will not be permitted to venture out, even in virtual form. As of this point, this home is your prison.”
Emile emitted a sigh, one that he hoped sounded deflated. In truth, he was feeling somewhat relieved. As awful as Fionn’s pronouncement was, it was preferable to waiting until Adler found him. And if Amaru and her companions did emerge again, there was nothing more they could do to him. Given enough time, he might even be able to crawl out from under the investigation.
Every prison is a fortress in disguise, he thought. Walls can protect as well as enclose.
THE BRIDGE FELT TENSE for the first time in days. When they had left the Jovian system, the mood had been somber but hopeful - exactly what anyone would expect from people forced to say goodbye to friends and loved ones as they made their way to the next challenge.
But as soon as the subject came up of what they would do once they got
there, the atmosphere changed abruptly. Their resources were running short and their options were limited. Facing up to that had understandably put a damper on things.
Houte spoke first, trying to address what they needed rather than what they didn’t have. “Whatever happens from here on out, I think it’s fair to say we’re going to need some more bodies. The four of us alone can’t be expected to deal with the Formists, the Aquilines, and the Solar Council, not to mention whoever else has got a horse in this race.”
“He’s right,” Amaru said with a nod. “Constance and Pinter can be counted on handle their end of things. But no matter what we come up with, we’re going to need more bodies.”
Gallego scoffed. “Maybe we could hire some mercenaries.”
This comment drew several humorless looks from the group. Raising her hand defensively, she apologized for her sardonic remark. “Wrong time for gallows humor, I’m sorry. But I’m serious when I say that the help we’ll need doesn’t not come easy, or cheap. And since we don’t exactly have a lot of resources at our disposal, we’re going to need to find people who are well-motivated.”
Amaru, who had been staring off thoughtfully until now, looked suddenly inspired. “I think I know of some people who fit that bill exactly.”
Houte was surprised as anyone to hear this and looked in her direction. “Really? Who? More of your Cronian friends?”
“No. These people are a hell of a lot more dangerous, and way more uncivilized.” Amaru smiled devilishly, then continued. “Nika. Once we’re restocked and outfitted, there’s a place I think we should go.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere hot, cold, rough and hellish. Somewhere no one goes unless they have to or are forced to.”
Gallego eyed Amaru disbelievingly. There were few places in the System that any one of those words could be used to describe. But only one was all four simultaneously. Gallego’s response was barely audible.
“What the hell do you hope to find there?”
Amaru’s smile became even more fiendish. “Just a few people who would really like to get even with Emile. You see, he killed a good friend of theirs.”
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Glossary
Aeacean The section of Europa’s interior ocean that exists with- in the recess beneath the settlement of Sidon.
Aquilean The interior ocean that exists beneath the surface ice of Jupiter’s moon Ganymede.
AR Augmented Reality, a technology that has existed since the early 21st century and is a common feature on all Surveyed Worlds.
Cisne The Level IV sentience responsible for coordinating and managing all industrial activity and data networks on Venus.
Clarkestown A Gyro Hab located at the Sun-Venus L3 Lagrange Point.
DEW Directed-energy weapon, a term used to describe weapons that rely on the discharge of charged particles or focused beams of photons rather than projectiles.
DS (DirectStim) A 22nd century technology that allows for images, sensations, and environments to be uploaded directly into the neural cortex, proving a sensory simulation that is completely immersive. The technology was rendered obsolete by the development of neural looms, which did away with the need for wearable headsets.
Fabricator A type of nanofoundry responsible for the manufacture of food, goods, tools, or other desired products (depending on the nature of the fabricator itself).
Gyro The faction dedicated to creating space habitats positioned at Lagrange Points throughout the Solar System. The term refers to the faction’s reliance on rotating cylinders to house their people. Major settlements include Clarkestown, New Standford, O’Neil’s Reach, and Sawarkand.
Hab Short form for space habitat, referring to facilities that orbit a planet, moon, or at a Lagrange Point.
Illuvians The Venus-based faction dedicated to terraforming Venus through the introduction of solar shades, lowering atmospheric density, converting the atmosphere, and the creation of a water cycle. Some models also include
Jovian Adjective, pertaining to the planet Jupiter and its system of moons.
Jovian Pidgin The informal language of the Jovian people, a simplified mix of Anglish, Espagna, Indu, Chin, and other languages brought by the original waves of colonists.
Kuma nina (Swahili) Mother-fucker
Lagrange Point A location in space where the combined gravitational forces of two large bodies creates a point of equilibrium where objects can be placed in a stable orbit.
LQCD Acronym for Lattice Quantum Chromodynamics environment, otherwise known as a Heilig room. In this environment, quantum simulations that approximate reality are created, usually for recreation or study.
Mangala The Level IV sentience responsible for coordinating and managing all industrial activity and data networks on Mars.
Me jodas (Spanish) Fuck me
Minoan The section of Europa’s interior oceans that exists with- in the recess beneath the settlement of Ebla.
New Standford A Gyro Hab located at the Sun-Jupiter L3 Lagrange Point
O’Neil’s Reach
A Gyro Hab located at the Sun-Earth L4 Lagrange Point
Puta madre (Spanish) Whore mother
Relativistic Weapon A kinetic weapon that fires projectiles at a fraction of the speed of light. Due to their size and energy requirements, such weapons are only available on space-faring military vessels.
Rhadamanthean The section of Europa’s interior ocean which exists beneath the settlement of Tyre.
Sawarakand A Gyro Hab located at the Sun-Earth L5 Lagrange Point
Snoop Nanogel implement which records sound and maps local environments using a variety of sensors. Typically used to conduct surveillance.
Solar Council The governing body which presides over the Inner Worlds (Venus, Earth, Luna and Mars).
Ten piedad de mí (Spanish) Have mercy on me
Trojans The Trojan Asteroids, a large population of asteroids that share Jupiter’s orbit around the Sun.
Umoja The Gyro Hab located at the Sun-Venus L4 Lagrange Point.
“Veshya kee santaan” (Hindi) “Son of a whore”
VLC Visible Light Communication, an antiquated form of data transfer involving directed pulses of photons through the air.
Voke Short for “invoking”, the process of contacting a person via their neural comlink.
VTOL Vertical Take-Off and Landing, referring to thrusters designed to perform take-off and landing maneuvers.
The following is an excerpt of
The Frost Line Accord
Book 3
of
The Formist Series
MATTHEW WILLIAMS
Copyright © 2018 Matthew Williams
IT WAS A PATTERN THAT was as anticipated as it was repeatable, the sounds of a dock switching from its night crew to the morning shift. For Fitz, it began with the sounds of maintenance crews breaking out their strikers and welders and catching up on repair work. Sirens blared as cranes moved to transport shipping crates from one area of the docks to another. And of course, there were the sounds of the morning arrivals. This consisted of ships firing their VTOL thrusters as they landed in their berths, and other sirens warning the crews to remain behind their barriers until the ships had landed.
It was a strange thing, a morning on the docks. They never closed and commerce on Dione didn’t obey any of the old diurnal orthodoxies. But the old colonists had been committed to maintaining a twenty-four-hour day. And so, for all those who worked the docks, the biggest burst of activity always came between the hours of oh-six-hundred and ten-hundred hours. Naturally, this was the time when the Chief S
teward - and not one of his under qualified underlings - absolutely had to be on hand to supervise.
It was an immutable pattern that never changed. Hence why Fitz knew something was wrong the moment he arrived.
The first thing he noticed was how his dockhands were standing around in a clustered mass. The second thing he noticed was the Gendarmes moving among them, asking his people questions. Baccu was the first to take notice of him and called out.
“Mackey! Get out of here before -”
This prompted one of the Gendarmes to brandish his truncheon. One of the other officers stepped in to restrain Baccu and prevent him from finishing his thought. Fitz was unable to voice an objection before someone official-looking stepped forward to intercept him.
“Mr. Fitz. You’re the Overseer of these docks?”
Fitz quickly looked the man up and down. His insignia indicated that he was a colonel. His face was unfamiliar, but that wasn’t surprising. The brass rarely ever came down to the docks, not unless something was extremely wrong. The fact that they were holding his people for what appeared to be questioning certainly indicated as much.
“What is it?” asked Fitz.
“Sir, we’re just conducting an inspection. Your dockworkers aren’t under arrest, they’re merely being questioned as part of a routine investigation.”
Fitz looked to his assembled workers. To a person, they looked like prisoners being kettled. A slightly less unpleasant description would be that of criminals being shuffled back to their cells. Nothing about what Fitz saw appeared “routine”.
“What is this about?”
The colonel hesitantly produced a tablet. Fitz expected to see a readout of an arrest warrant. To his surprise, it was something much more complicated. It appeared to an authorization form, but one he didn’t recognize.
The Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2) Page 30