Xenotech Rising: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 1)

by Dave Schroeder

  I started walking around the hovercar, looking for anything that seemed odd or out of place. I shuffled my feet to reduce the risk of tripping on more fabric and kept my eyes focused on the concrete below me. Half way around my circumnavigation I saw something. Scuff marks from what looked like several pairs of feet were discernible in the thin layer of dust on the floor. It was a good thing the hanger wasn’t swept too often. I looked more closely and could make out a pair of narrow parallel lines three feet apart between the scuff marks. Could they be wheel tracks from the cart the kidnappers had used to transport Terrhi? I followed the trail in the dust and grew more confident I was headed in the right direction when I saw one of the Earth First Isolationists’ business cards resting face up between the cart tracks. Was it a breadcrumb I was supposed to follow? Or bait for a trap?

  Noises from overhead startled me. I heard creaks and moans and metal straining on metal from the surplus Orishen ships parked in tight ranks across most of the hanger’s enclosed acreage. That was good. The freighter to troopship transformation I’d programmed was being propagated. Tony Zed would know I was holding up my end of his coerced bargain.

  I continued to follow the scuff mark path but it had started to fade. Perhaps this stretch of floor had more traffic and that was making the path harder to follow. I pulled out my phone and asked it to scan the floor and enhance the visual signature using its filters and signal algorithms.

  “Any luck?” I said.

  “Uh, Jack,” said my phone. “The signs are clear—look straight ahead.”

  I raised my head from where I’d been staring down, searching for tracks.

  “On the back wall.”

  I’d missed them in the glare of the bright overhead lights. They were painted in foot-high letters on the hanger’s rear wall, fifty feet in front of me.

  ELEVATOR.

  STAIRS.

  Perhaps I’d made a mistake and had used Cornell’s stun phone on my brain.

  “Hang on, Chit.” I executed a Homer Simpson slap to my forehead. I muttered another obligatory “D’oh” under my breath.

  “Thanks for the advance notice this time,” she said. Her tone suggested that the words “you idiot” were to be added to the phrase.

  I walked over to the rear wall and examined the stairway and elevator. The stairs were standard issue concrete with steel treads and metal pipes for handrails. They went down half a flight then doubled back 180 degrees so I couldn’t see more than a blank cinder block wall a dozen feet below me. There was a lighted exit sign above my head in keeping with fire code regulations. The elevator, to the right of the stairs, wasn’t the typical sort of passenger elevator you’d see in an office building. It was a freight elevator with gray doors wide enough to load six pallets at once. It would hold a Shetland pony or an unconscious juvenile Dauushan with room to spare. It would probably even hold an adult Dauushan in a fetal position, though I admit I don’t know what fetal position is for a Dauushan.

  Now I had a quandary. Should I take the elevator, which seemed certain to be the way Terrhi had been taken? Or should I take the stairs? They would probably get me to the same point, a lower level where I’d find a tunnel to some other building on the VIGorish Labs complex. My bet was on the headquarters building, if only because of Anthony Zwilniki’s monumental ego. Both options for descent could be booby-trapped. I’d also be a sitting duck if caught on the stairs and the enclosed elevator would greatly limit my options for escape. Given that, I opted for neither, short term.

  To decrease my likelihood of being seen I took a few minutes to make a sort of ghost-costume poncho out of a large square of B.I.T.S. fabric. When I was finished I mostly blended into the scenery, except for two small eye-holes I’d cut with my Swiss Army knife. Poly’s custom B.I.T.S. suit had gauze over the eye slits, but I didn’t have that luxury. I had just put on the poncho when I heard rhythmic noises from the the stairwell.

  I moved quickly and tucked enough of my poncho into my belt to expose my knees. Then I put on my gecko gloves and kneepads and climbed twenty feet up the wall between the elevator and the stairs, hiding in the shadows. If a drop of my sweat didn’t fall on someone’s head no one would suspect I was up here.

  The elevator started to hum scant seconds after I’d reached my elevated vantage point. Then the stairs echoed with the sound of marching feet. I watched the elevator’s broad doors open vertically to disgorge a hundred tightly packed paramilitary “sales reps” in pink Dauushan Ranger camouflage uniforms. They fanned out toward the gangways of the newly converted troop ships. Other “reps” were pouring out of the stairwell like fire ants leaving their nest to strip a carcass. They headed for the ships, too. Farther down the rear wall I saw four more stairway and elevator combinations disgorging troops. I tried to track their numbers but lost count. It seemed like all ten thousand of them were there. Somebody would soon find and liberate Columbia Brown, so it was time to get on with my mission and find Terrhi.

  Once all the troops had entered ships I made my way down the wall as quietly as a Nicósn sipping rum and stowed my gecko gear. Then I untucked my B.I.T.S. poncho and carefully walked down three flights of stairs, invisible except for my eyes, until I couldn’t go any farther. When I got to the bottom I cracked the door and peeked into the corridor. Words painted on broad, color coded arrows on the wall across from me read “Hanger” pointing up and “Headquarters,” “Training,” “Manufacturing,” and “Pharmaceuticals” pointing left. There weren’t any soldiers in pink camouflage. I took advantage of the empty corridor to exit the stairwell and turned left. Terrhi would be that way, I hoped. Thank goodness for best practices in modern signage to guide me in the right direction.

  The corridor was wide enough for ten people to walk abreast. I must have walked a quarter of a mile along its well-lit length before I saw anyone. Luckily, they didn’t see me. Two officers were focused on their own conversation. I remembered them—the redheaded man with a flat top Mohawk and the tall northern Chinese woman I’d seen outside the hotel yesterday. Someone should tell the Mohawk man that the shades of pink in Dauushan Ranger camo suits don’t work well for redheads. He looked like he was trying to be especially badass to compensate for the color of his attire. I stepped aside, pulled out my phone under my B.I.T.S. poncho, and quietly took infrared pictures of them as they passed—evidence for future prosecutions. Then I pressed myself against the wall of the corridor and held my breath. The tall woman was talking.

  “Your teams are fully briefed?”

  “They’ve memorized every detail of the royal palace,” replied Mohawk man.

  I followed along behind the pair so I could hear more.

  “Excellent,” said the tall woman. “Try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum.”

  “That’s not easy with the ammunition you need to discourage adult Dauushans.”

  “Don’t expect to get a lot of resistance,” said the tall woman. “We have an ace in the hole at VLHQ.”

  She must mean Terrhi. Tony Zed was the sort who would keep his enemies close and his hostages closer. I’d followed these two long enough and turned back towards VIGorish Labs’ headquarters. As I walked I saw surveillance cameras in the ceiling but hoped they didn’t see me. I continued for several hundred yards and came to a spot where another corridor branched off to the left. The signage said it was for Pharmaceuticals, which I took to be the grajja factory. I kept going straight. An equal distance farther another corridor branched off—this one was labeled Manufacturing. It must be where they made the Virtual Interactive Gaming tubes. I paced off the same number of yards again. If my sense of direction was working I must now be under the headquarters parking lot. I expected it to be a straight shot to VIGorish Labs HQ. It wasn’t. Yet another corridor branched off, this one labeled “Training.” That made sense. The training building must be completely underground. They’d need a lot of private space to prep a private army. I kept walking.

  With every step I took I felt uneasy, or rath
er more uneasy because this was all too easy. I could understand that the complex would be largely deserted if many of the soldiers had left for the troop ships, and I assumed that the cameras in the ceiling were watching for intruders, but I expected someone as paranoid about security as Anthony Zwilniki to have much stronger systems in place. Where were the physical checkpoints? The metal detectors? The infrared scanners? I could spot most electronic sensors and hadn’t seen any yet along the wide “Grand Corridor.” Ominous screechy horror movie violin music started playing on my personal mental soundtrack.

  Up ahead something blocked the way. That was more like it—a set of solid security doors with controlled access using hand geometry readers. The word “Headquarters” was printed in big block letters above them. At least I was where I wanted to be. I was glad I’d taken pictures of the two officers earlier. I took off my backpack and rummaged around inside it until I found the special adaptable glove I used for testing hand geometries. My phone scanned the best photo of Mohawk man’s right hand and passed the key dimensions to the glove. I slid my right hand into it then pressed the glove to the reader next to the center door. I was pleased and gratified when the portal swung open. This was more like it. I intentionally increased my paranoia levels.

  The passage on the other side of the door was not a duplicate of the grand corridor. It was narrow, not much wider than the door itself. I hoped it wouldn’t lead to a maze of twisty little passages, all alike. A dozen feet along the passageway made a sharp turn. Once I’d taken it I saw that another right angle turn followed. On the wall of the passage, in the same style as the signs in the grand corridor, were the words “This Way to the Egress.” Someone had a sense of humor. I proceeded until the passage forked. The left-hand passage had a sign reading “Lady” and the right-hand one had a similar sign reading “Tiger.” I went left.

  After a few dozen paces the passage widened out into a small room. Columbia Brown sat on a metal folding chair facing the opening where my passage entered the room. Another passage was on the opposite wall behind her. She was holding her pistol but didn’t see me. I didn’t know how she managed to get from the bridge of the Orishen freighter to this room so quickly. Perhaps she’d gotten loose and headed out while I was talking to Poly? It didn’t really matter, but Columbia Brown was blocking my path to Terrhi.

  I watched her closely. The room was narrow enough she might sense the air flow of my passage if I just tried to walk around her. I kept watching. Something didn’t feel right. Then I got it. This version of Columbia Brown was a hologram. I’d watched her long enough to see the pattern of the holographic recording repeat. It was subtle, slight recurring movements and changes of expression, but enough to make me sure this version of Ms. Brown wasn’t real. I slowly extended my foot into the room and touched the floor. That is, I tried to touch the floor. It turned out to also be a holographic projection. I didn’t want to consider what was under the projected false floor. Sharp stakes? A fifty foot drop? A lake of acid? It wouldn’t be pleasant for me, whatever it was. I smudged the edge of the entrance to the room with the rubber sole of my boot, leaving a black mark to tell me that this “Lady” was no lady. Then I retraced my path to the fork and took the right-hand passage labeled “Tiger.”

  I didn’t know what to expect from this selection. Would it be a Terran Bengal tiger? A Neuva Pâkkjuk uber-tiger big enough to take down a Tōdon? Or an elderly seven-foot Tigrammath sitting cross-legged on the floor reciting Zen koans and encouraging me to renounce violence while holding a knife behind his back?

  What I saw when the passage widened into a room almost caused me to drop my guard. Spike was lying in the center of the floor, all six of his limbs trussed up in heavy duty rope. Another rope was looped around his neck. As he struggled his own movements cut off his air. He was gasping and clearly in pain from the tightness of his bonds. His eyes were pleading with me to save him. I was about to rush to his side when my heightened sense of paranoia stopped me. I looked at the entrance to the room and saw the black smudge mark I’d made earlier. Same room. Different hologram. Nice try, but no takers.

  Chapter 28

  “He fashions evil for himself who does evil to another, and an evil plan does mischief to the planner.” ― Hesiod

  I was glad that test was behind me. They knew I was here now so I took off my B.I.T.S. poncho and found my gecko gear in my backpack. I put on the gloves and kneepads and made my way around the room along the walls, testing each potential handhold to be sure it was real before trusting it. When I reached the passage at the other end of the room it proved to be solid so I left the walls, re-stowed my gecko gear, and continued walking. After a hundred steps the passage widened into a larger room. It was the nineteenth century British men’s club with mahogany wainscoting and thick oriental carpeting where Anthony Zwilniki and I had met the last time I was at VLHQ. Zwilniki, or what I assumed was a hologram of Zwilniki, was in the same chair he’d occupied earlier. I looked at him and looked down at myself. We were both in Victorian dress. He was holding a pipe and used it to motion for me to take the other chair. It didn’t feel like a trap, so I did.

  “I’m so glad you made it this far, Jack.” Zwilniki stuffed the pipe with tobacco, lit it, and had a few puffs while I took everything in.

  “Where’s Terrhi?”

  “Don’t be tiresome. You’re a clever chap. I could really use you in my operation.”

  “Drop dead,” I said. “Where is she? Has Terrhi been harmed?”

  Now that I was closer I could see that this version of Zwilniki was indeed a hologram. He was too much of a coward for it to be otherwise, dammit.

  “Patience, Jack. You did so well on choosing between the Lady and the Tiger I thought I’d give you another choice to make.”

  “Up yours.”

  “Don’t be vulgar. You can choose between helping me achieve Earth’s glorious destiny to conquer the galaxy…”

  I snorted.

  “Or you can be a beta tester for VIGorish Labs’ newest virtual interactive game—Classic Leviathan.”

  “You want to stick me in a Plexiglas tube full of water and have me play one of your simulations? What’s the catch? Will you turn off my oxygen at the end?”

  “No, for this game I challenged my designers to think outside the tube and be post-cylindrical,” said holographic Zwilniki. “It’s played in the virtual reality simulation space under my headquarters. It uses the same technology you saw when we met before.”

  “What happens when I finish beta testing?”

  “It’s not that kind of game, Jack.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You play until you die.”

  “Oh.”

  Zwilniki looked smug.

  “Tell me more about option one, ‘Earth’s glorious destiny’ and all that.”

  “Certainly, my good man.” I didn’t know if the British gentleman’s club simulation was translating his words into Victorian modes of speech or Zwilniki was affecting a lordly manner. “The people of Earth have a higher calling than to eat the technological table scraps the species of the Galactic Free Trade Association deign to throw us. We must conquer the other members of the Association and have them serve Earth.”

  The man was a loon.

  “And just how are you going to make that happen?”

  “By taking over Dauush and using their massive fabrication capabilities to build enough military equipment that no other species will be able to withstand us. The Dauushans themselves will become our janissaries, fighting for us to protect their Princess and their Queen. Once Dauush is taken, Orishen and the Pâkk planets will be next. After the first domino is tipped…” Zwilniki made a motion with his hands. “They all fall down.”

  “Wait. Isn’t step one taking over Dauush? You have to do that first.”

  “Yes, I do. And you’ve helped make it happen.” If he only knew. I thought it would be wise to keep asking leading questions. Zwilniki was on a roll, doing an excellent rendi
tion of “evil mastermind reveals his plans.”

  “The troop ships?” I said.

  “Yes, and the rabbots. You don’t think WT&F was the only firm we sold the plans to, do you?”

  That explained all the grass Chit saw falling into the hoppers at the grajja factory earlier.

  “Orishen freighters, grajja factories and private armies cost a lot of galcreds. Is VIGorish Labs profitable enough to fund it all?”

  Zwilniki laughed. It sounded more like a cackle.

  “You helped with that as well. I had to borrow funds initially but a new source of income will allow me to repay those loans quickly.”

  I looked puzzled. Our surroundings flickered and we were now on the deck of a pirate ship. Zwilniki sported a broad black hat, an eye patch, and a parrot on his shoulder. He stood proudly at the wheel while sails flapped overhead. I was held before him by three other disreputable pirates that I recognized as Cornell, Penn and Princeton.

  All three of them said “Arrrrr!” and sneered. I tried not to laugh. They were simulations, not flesh and blood.

  Chit tapped frantically at my neck. “The other Murm,” I decoded. I finally got it. Zwilniki’s henchmen, with assistance from the other Murm Chit had smelled in the sub-sub-basement of the capitol, were pirating signals from the Georgia legislature and selling them to help fund their Earth First Militant dreams of conquest. That could be a hefty revenue stream. Georgia’s political broadcast licensing fees were steep and there were plenty of beings who’d be glad to avoid paying them. I hoped Chit was passing this along to Lieutenant Lee.

  I looked at Zwilniki and rolled my eyes. He snapped his fingers and we were back in the British gentleman’s club.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re pirating broadcasts to pay for your fleet and army. And you kidnapped Terrhi to give you leverage when you try to take over Dauush?”

  “Yes. The Queen won’t allow their defenses to attack our ships if Terrhi might be on board and once we capture the Queen and occupy the palace, the rest of the planet will fall in line. Especially if we threaten to saturate their atmosphere with grajja.” That stunned me. It was difficult to contemplate the possibility of an entire planet of elephant-sized amped up berserkers, but I kept a brave face.