Odin's Eye

by Kal Spriggs

  “That's entirely possible,” Majors said. “Now, just off-hand I'd say it looks like you're equipped with Tango-Seventeen drive field emitters, which were top of the line back a hundred years ago, but we can probably either upgrade or entirely replace them with something like X-Ray-Elevens.”

  “They're the same series of emitters so we wouldn't need to replace any power conduits or do any hull redesign. It would keep your drive field depth and give you even better speed at strategic warp, you'd be a match for most current military craft.”

  “You have a good eye,” Fenris said. “Most humans don't realize how deep a drive field I have.”

  Mel rolled her eyes at that. She wasn't certain whether the ship or the engineer was trying harder to flatter the other... either way, she knew it was going to cost the group money as the two worked each other over for more options.

  “Oh, yeah,” Majors said. “I could tell that from just a glance. What I'm really interested in, is whether you're satisfied with those disruptor cannon; they're Mark Thirteens out of the Preserve, right?”

  Like other engineers she had met, Majors wore a headset with an eyepiece that scrolled information to him. Mel could see ghostly text flit across it too fast for her to read anything.

  “Yes,” Fenris growled. “Truthfully, I don't think they provide the full output that they had on their specifications.”

  “Yeah, that's what I'd heard,” Majors said. “I also heard that they're subject to projector failure when they're fired in rapid sequence.”

  “You know, I thought that was just a malfunction in my secondary systems, but that would explain the drop in rate of fire,” Fenris said.

  Mel shook her head; this was about to get very expensive. She jotted down new main armament, even before Majors answered.

  “Well, we've actually got some of their Mark Twenty-Fives in stock, pulled them off... well, I can't really say what I pulled them off,” he winked conspiratorially at Mel, “but I've got a full set of those, which should be as easy as a one-for-one swap. There's still a healthy market for the Mark Thirteens, so it wouldn't cost much beyond installation and a bit of overhead. The Mark Twenty-Fives will give you a significant boost in firepower.”

  It was a long moment before Fenris spoke, “I've looked at the specifications for the Twenty-Fives, I like that idea. What do you think about my power systems?”

  “Well,” Major said after a glance at his eyepiece, “I'd say that they're pretty solid. Power output is limited, but we could probably boost it with some...”

  Time: 1400 Zulu, 25 June 291 G.D.

  Location: Blisken Station, Hanet System

  “This looks like it's going to be expensive,” Marcus said as he looked over Mel's notes from the day before. “New drive emitters, new main armament, upgrades to the power systems, new secondary armament, and some defense upgrade options as well...”

  Fenris' growl answered him, “I'm worth it.”

  “We know you are,” Mel said, “It's just that we don't know how much money we'll have to do all this yet.”

  She didn't miss Marcus's derisive snort; he thought letting Bob arrange things was tantamount to setting them all up to be murdered for their money or turned in to the Guard for a bounty.

  “I offered to launder the money,” Fenris growled. “For that matter, I think I could probably simply hack...”

  Mel held up her hands, “We talked about that, Fenris; the one place someone is guaranteed to notice hacking is when you start messing with money. Even just moving it around, someone is bound to notice. If you take it from accounts, even inactive accounts, they'll notice sooner.” The last thing they wanted was anyone realizing there was a rogue AI on the loose.

  “Fine,” Fenris said, “but I'd like repairs to begin soon.”

  “They will,” Mel said. She didn't mention how the ship had spent the past century making do with what it could manage on its own. The AI seemed to have exhausted much of his patience when he realized his freedom. At least he still values human life, she thought.

  “I'd like to test my new systems out against an appropriate target after repairs are complete,” Fenris growled. “Maybe a pirate?”

  Mostly values human life, she corrected herself. It seemed that like most men, Fenris wanted to play with his shiny new toys, even before he had them. “I'm certain we'll figure something out.”

  She looked around, “Bob left already?” The spy would have to physically travel to the Chrysalis system to make contact with the criminals he wanted to use to launder money.

  That, in turn, meant that they had to use some of the cash to pay for his travel, as well as the travel of whoever went later after he set things up. Someone would have to carry the data codes for the money transfer and they would definitely want some backup and an escort of some kind. Probably Brian and Marcus, maybe me as well, she thought.

  “He and Lace left this morning,” Marcus said. “I figure we'll head out once it's all set up. You bring the codes, Brian and I will back you up.” He didn't bother to hide his suspicion of the agent. In his opinion Bob was just as untrustworthy as anyone else.

  “We get a total value, yet?” Mel asked.

  “Total account value is seventy-seven million, five hundred and thirty-four thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two Guard dollars,” Fenris said. “Though the exact value varies dependent upon exchange rates for the accounts in the Harmony Protectorate.”

  Mel gave a low whistle, “That is a lot of money.”

  She wasn't certain about the going rate in the Harmony Protectorate. She knew they were a semi-autonomous collection of four systems that operated with a modified colonial charter under the UN Security Council... but still technically part of Guard Space. She hadn't dealt much with them, since they had ruinous trade tariffs for foreign vessels.

  Plus, she thought, there's been a lot of ships disappearing out that way and even Vagyr's pirates can't account for all of them. It wouldn't surprise her to hear that someone in the Protectorate was sheltering pirates.

  Marcus grimaced, “I'm sure it won't be nearly as much after we launder it. Standard cut for something like this is upwards of thirty percent.”

  “Thirty percent?!” Mel demanded. “That's extortionate!”

  Marcus grinned, “It's stolen money, so... yeah, it is extortionate. The kind of people we're dealing with won't do this from the goodness of their hearts and it costs them a pretty penny to do what they do. They'll have to funnel the money through a dozen worlds, exchange it for bearer bonds or cash in transit and then funnel it back along the way. This much money, spread across a dozen worlds and systems, it's going to take a lot of time and work. Plus they'll probably have to bribe a few customs agents and several senior bank executives to hide those transactions.”

  Mel just shook her head, “Still, thirty percent...” She hadn't thought herself that attached to the money, but to see a third of it disappear so easily left her reeling.

  “We'll get cash to pay for some of the repairs, maybe enough left over to work some cover identities for us all, probably not enough to get a solid ID for you and I, though.”

  Mel nodded at that. It seemed to be something of a fixation for Marcus, yet she couldn't blame him. Without a new, solid identity, they were ghosts in the system. They weren't free to move about any world, to step aboard any civilized space station, really, to accomplish anything. “We'll have to register Fenris, too,” she said, “and pay for a Guild Charter if that's what we're going to do.”

  “If we're going to stay in civilized space I guess it's our best option,” Marcus said. She didn't miss the disapproval in his voice though. He didn't like that option and he hadn't yet explained why.

  She looked down at her list and the preliminary estimates. Given how their funds were about to shrink, she didn't know if they would have the money. Certainly they wouldn't have the money for everything. So where could they afford to cut corners?

  It wasn't a question she could answer. For now, she j
ust hoped Marcus was wrong about the going rate for money launderers.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Time: 1200 Zulu, 18 July 291 G.D.

  Location: Oscar Station, Chrysalis System

  Mel had been to the Chrysalis system multiple times, back when she had piloted her parents' freighter, Kip Thorne, and then later when she ran it herself.

  The main star, Chrysalis Prime, was a blue-white giant, intensely hot and destined to live only a few million years. The secondary star, Chrysalis Secunda, was a sullen red dwarf, barely visible against the blinding splendor of Prime, caught in the massive star's gravity well. The only other bodies in the system was a dense debris disk that flowed around Chrysalis Prime and a few cold planets in orbit around Secunda. Mel had been fascinated by the star on her previous visits, mostly because of the fact that it was destined to implode one day and turn into a black hole.

  The system was a stopping point on the way to more important systems, yet that in itself gave it some value. There were a handful of refueling stations, most of which were built in the debris disc where they mined water. Most times when she headed through the system, she had stopped over in Secundus' orbit where the one minor colony lay. It was half research station, half mining colony and despite the traffic through the system, they always had a need for trade goods. The small population didn't normally justify big commercial ships coming through and even when they were flush on supplies, they often had a data transfer that they would pay for her to take.

  Some part of her wanted to call on that colony and check with her old contacts, yet that would be stupid of her. They might not have heard she was dead, but certainly her appearance there would bring questions. Also, despite their relative isolation, there was still a Guard Fleet picket in at the colony.

  There was not one at Chisholm Station. In fact, it was the one station she hadn't visited in the system, mostly because as far as she knew, it was an abandoned derelict.

  It seemed she hadn't known that much, because as she and Marcus stepped down the ramp of the chartered transport, she found the station not only had power and lighting, but also a thriving market that had spilled over into the hangar bay.

  Though, she thought as she stepped over a crate, I don't think Guard Fleet would look kindly on guns, drugs, and other illegal merchandise.

  She pursed her lips in disapproval as Bob waved at her from a weapons stand, “See, this is where I got my pistol. They've another in stock.”

  “Even assuming I wanted a wrist-breaker like that,” Mel said, “it's illegal just about anywhere I'd want to go.”

  The thought of her trying to fire the thing made her wince. The Magnum Research BFR Twenty-Five Millimeter revolver was designed for use against powered armor and vehicles, with a discarding sabot the size of her pinky. For that matter, the Guard Marines used it as a sidearm... and they were normally wore powered armor themselves. While they did manufacture anti-personnel rounds, which Bob normally loaded, even those had massive overkill on anyone in even standard body armor. It wasn't just illegal, it was massive overcompensation... though she could admit that whatever Bob hit with it stayed dead.

  The weapons dealer gave her a dirty look as she said illegal. “You ain't an oinker, are you?”

  “She's with me, Hollard,” Bob said easily as he flipped open the cylinder on a massive revolver. “Hey, how much for a couple of boxes of ammo for this?”

  The gun dealer gave a crooked-toothed smile, “For you... two hundred Guard Dollars.”

  Bob winced, “That's a bit more than last time.”

  “You can get them cheaper on Hanet,” Lace said from behind them. “Besides, don't we have an appointment?”

  “Yeah,” Bob said as he dropped the pistol back down on the table. “Catch you later, Hollard. Save me a couple boxes. Maybe throw in a couple incendiary rounds and some armor piercing?”

  “Why buy from him, if he's more expensive?” Mel asked as they walked away. She didn't ask why he had asked for armor piercing rounds. The rounds he normally loaded were still rocket assisted, which meant after the initial primer fired and triggered a charge, the bullet itself had a rocket booster that imparted still additional force. The antipersonnel rounds he normally loaded used a smaller charge and a lighter rocket booster than the standard rounds.

  Bob had told her that the armor piercing rounds mounted a full charge and a heavier booster than standard... and they also used depleted uranium cores with a tungsten alloy jacket. She didn't even know what the incendiary rounds would look like... and she could admit that she really didn't want to see what they did to someone.

  “He removes the isotope tracer that the Guard puts on all their rounds,” Bob said. “So I don't have to worry about someone tracking me back through the supplier.”

  Lace raised an eyebrow, “That's remarkably astute of you. I thought you were just building a relationship with him because his uncle runs the station.”

  Bob shrugged, “That too.”

  Mel shook her head. She understood business, but these two considered things that she would have turned her nose up at even a couple months ago. Yeah, she had been barely scraping by as a tramp freighter captain, but she'd been an honest one at least, not a smuggler.

  Well, she admitted, not knowingly a smuggler, who knows what Rawn was smuggling for Guard Free Now.

  They wound their way through the bazaar and then into a narrow set of corridors. Brian awaited them outside a hatch. “I scouted it out. There's a gantry above the room, good place for an ambush.”

  Bob shrugged, “They verify they brought the money?” Brian gave a nod in response and Bob arched his eyebrows as he spoke, “Then do we really have much of a choice?”

  “No,” Mel said, “we don't. We need the money and we need it clean or else it does us no good.”

  She didn't even want to mention how they had spent the bulk of their cash to charter a ship to fly out here. The seventy thousand Guard Dollars that Agent Mueller had planned to bribe them with to keep silent about their part in his operation had at least been put to a good use.

  “Right,” Bob said with a nod. “Let’s do this.”

  Mel followed the others as they stepped into the room. It had once been a maintenance bay, she could see, yet it had fallen into disrepair. Random pieces of partially disassembled equipment lay strewn across the floor. A gantry crane, for moving heavy equipment, hung from the shadowy ceiling above, perched like an ancient, rusting spider.

  “That's far enough,” a voice said from the shadows ahead of them. Mel could just make out several figures where they stood near the opposite set of doors. “I thought I told you to come alone.”

  “Terrance,” Bob said, “I thought you said that you would come alone.”

  The money launderer gave a nervous laugh, “I said that? I must have been drunk. You've got the access codes?” He had a voice that reminded Mel of a lizard, he spoke fast and his words almost blended together.

  “Yeah,” Bob said. He nodded at Mel to step forward and she came up beside him. “Show him the handheld,” he said in a low voice. Mel raised the handheld; the small hand computer contained the full set of account numbers and access codes for the stolen money.

  “I want to confirm them,” Terrance said.

  “Sure,” Bob said. “Come on over. You can review it on the handheld.”

  The money launderer hesitated, “If you try anything, my men will shoot you down.”

  “They can try,” Brian muttered behind Mel. He sounded eager.

  “We won't,” Bob said, “we just want our money moved.”

  Terrence scurried forward. Bob's contact was a short, pale man, balding and with bloodshot eyes. He gingerly took the handheld from Mel and checked the account balances and then verified the security timestamps. Those showed the full account balance and effectively locked the accounts, any tampering with the timestamps normally resulted in freezing the account.

  Timestamped and access-locked accounts were generally the only way th
at interstellar commerce could work, only when the access codes were applied was an account unlocked, and using the access codes would invalidate the timestamp. The software was simple enough, but it was the hardware of the handheld that prevented hacking. Once it received the encrypted signal from a bank, it generated a locked timestamp and generated a random access code that could only be activated by breaking the timestamp.

  It was a painful process, but was the only real alternative to cash or bearer bonds. Since neither was really an option for this amount of money, they pretty much had no alternative.

  Besides, she thought, if we tried to convert some of those accounts to cash, we would need a truck to move the money and a small army to guard it.

  That wasn't to say that there weren't other ways to transfer funds, but most of them left trails. Most of the big interstellar banks had courier ships that transferred their data. For that matter, there were major companies like Odin Interstellar that transferred data professionally.

  Their only other option would be to convert the funds into precious metals bullion, but again, the size of transactions would draw attention... and they didn't have the contacts on most of those worlds to make it happen.

  Terrence, it seemed, did have those kinds of contacts, which was why Bob had called them in to meet with him so soon. It seemed he wanted to make the deal and make it soon.

  “It looks good,” Terrence said as he finished looking it over. He almost looked like he wanted to bolt with the handheld, but he passed it over with a greasy smile as Mel held out her hand. He scurried back to his group and paused there. “I can give you thirty percent of value, delivery over the next two months.”

  “What?” Mel snapped, “You're taking seventy percent, that's absurd!”

  Bob waved a hand to sush her, but she could see her tone had already rubbed Terrence the wrong way. The short little man hunched forward a nasty look on his face. Bob spoke, “I apologize for the girl, she's new to all this. Still, seventy percent is an awful lot,” Bob said. “Going rate is normally thirty percent.”