by Alex Kings
Rurthk's grip tightened on his pistol. “What do you mean?”
The man burst out laughing. “The look on your faces! No, no, you don't have to worry. Egliante doesn't know you're here.”
“Funny,” said Rurthk, with a barely concealed growl.
When the man had finished laughing, he looked them over, then turned. “C'mon.” he said.
He led them across the factory to the entrance of a sapphiroid tube. Mero leapt off the last robot arm and glided to the floor to join them. Their contact didn't seem the slightest bit surprised by this.
From inside the tube, Rurthk could see the wall from outside. Around them were some of the other factories, the gutted hulk of an old Alliance Frigate, tilted to the side on the barren, crater-strewn rock.
“You might wonder why you're leaving from here,” said the man, adopting the tone of a tour guide. “The thing is, not all the factories have shut down. One is still active, albeit in secret – to avoid excessive regulation. It builds and repairs private luxury craft. Small, for the most part, but expensive, using all of the highest-end technologies. The Albascene who runs it is a friend of Tommy Egliante, so naturally he has a free pass to keep the shipyard operational.”
“So they won't mind us taking a shuttle out of here?” Rurthk asked.
“Oh, I'm sure they will,” said their contact. “But our friends upstairs will ensure people are looking the other way when it comes time to launch, so you don't get flagged and brought down. Of course, if he doesn't … well … good luck with that.” He gave them a cold smile.
At the end of the tunnel they reached a small berth where a shuttle was waiting.
“Don't take the shuttle” their guide said, tapping a panel by the door. “Just leave it in orbit. It'll find its own way back.” The door swung open.
“Fine,” said Rurthk. He waved his crew inside, then turned to their contact. “Goodbye,” he grunted, and headed inside.
The shuttle took off, pointed its nose upwards, and hurtled into the sky. Below, the ground retreated and began to turn away as the Volpone's curvature became evident. Its habitable zone, a band of light green and blue, separated the two faces of bright, sun-scorched rock and solid ice, almost black in the eternal night.
Volpone became a globe, and began to shrink. When they were outside the exclusion zone, Rurthk went to the comms and searched for the Outsider.
“Kaivon? Wolff? Are you there?”
“Captain,” came Kaivon's calm, synthesised voice. “You've managed to escape the blockade?”
“Yes,” said Rurthk. “Can you tell the doctor to prepare? Eloise has been shot. She's walking, but I'd like him to take a look.”
“I'm on it, captain,” came Dr. Wolff's voice. “I'll be ready to begin the moment you arrive.”
“How did the mission go?” said Kaivon.
“We're all here, we escaped the blockades, and we have the hard drives,” said Rurthk. He looked out the window, where Volpone was had become a tiny crescent of light. “Now comes the real problem.”
*
Three men gathered in a small but ornate room. A triangular sapphiroid window looked out onto the rust-red Martian desert and the shallow slopes of Olympus Mons. Opposite, a screen covered the entire wall.
The eldest, dressed in a maroon velvet suit, surveyed the other two with something approaching disdain. “Show me,” he said.
“Of course, sir,” said one of the others. He called up a group of images on one wall, taken from security cameras, of a young woman dressed in black with short, black hair. “We found her on Cantor, sir. Once we knew what to look for, we traced her movements as best we could. She was on the planet for a couple of days at most. We think – ”
The older man held up his hand to command the other to be silent. He looked up at the pictures carefully, then sighed. “That's her,” he said. He turned back to his employee and skewered him with a sharp gaze. “Where is she now?”
“She had already left Cantor by the time we found this, I'm sorry to say. I've had my people go through the passenger lists of every ship coming and going from Cantor within the given timeframes. We couldn't put a name to the face.” He pointed at the array of pictures on the screen. “But working on the assumption that she's under a human female name, we've managed to narrow down the list of ships she might have left on.”
“And?” said the older man.
The third man, the youngest, dressed in generic office uniform, stepped forward with military precision and began to recite ship names. “The Viper. The Rosalind Franklin. The Eldorado. The Fifth Policeman. The Icarus. The Gorgonzola. The Outsider –”
The older man held up his hand again. “Stop!” He turned to her first interlocutor. “How many ships?”
“Thirty eight.”
“Thirty eight? She could be on any one of thirty eight ships?”
“Yes, sir.” The man rubbed his hands nervously under the gaze of his employer. “It was a very busy period, you see. Many people coming and going. And human female isn't a particularly precise label. On top of that, not all ships are entirely legitimate. They don't record passenger names, so we had to include them for completeness.”
The older man's look darkened.
“However, we are closer! We are looking into the history of all these ships. And we know her current style of dress. We've passed all that on to our friends in the GEA.”
The older man nodded. “Good. Then keep searching. I don't care who you have to tread on. Bring her back.”
“Yes, sir.”
The older man turned and strode out of the room.
Chapter 41: Together, Alone
Eloise came limping into the observation lounge, followed by Dr. Wolff. Together, they joined the rest of the crew, who were gathered around the table.
“Well?” said Rurthk.
“I'm pleased to say Ms. LaBelle will be back to full health and capable of her full repertoire of martial arts moves in the next 24 hours,” said Dr. Wolff. I've got the bullet out and fixed the rather odd decisions of the medical gel. For something we call smart matter, it does do some remarkably stupid things at time.” He pulled back a chair for Eloise, then settled in one himself. “So, it seems that Mr. Kaivon and I have missed out on some of the action. You seem to be lacking the jubilation one would normally associate with becoming a millionaire. What happened?”
Rurthk looked around the table at his crew. “Well …” he began.
“They're going to screw us,” said Mero. He was hanging from a ceiling bar by one hand and his tail.
Rurthk snorted. Mero could be an irritating little rat, but Rurthk appreciated his ability to get to the point. “Yes,” he said. “Sukone might be planning to kill us when we give him the hard drives.”
“How did you learn this?” asked Kaivon.
“When we got caught in the blockade, we went to a group of information brokers,” Rurthk said. “They told us. We may not be able to trust their word, but …”
“Betrayal is hardly out of character for Sweetblade,” Dr. Wolff said. A dark expression clouded his normally jolly face. “I should have fought against this.”
“You were the only one who didn't vote for it,” Olivia said.
Dr. Wolff shook his head. “I should've fought harder, made the case against Sweetblade more forcefully. But I, too, was seduced by the money on offer. So I abstained, knowing the vote would go through. I thought they wouldn't turn on a contractor for a normal heist like this – it's poor business.”
“That's part of it,” Rurthk said. “There may be more to this than a normal heist. The brokers suggested there is more on those hard drives than just money. There may be information on there that Sukone personally wants.”
Dr. Wolff sat back and sighed. “For a mob boss of Sukone's rank, even a little information of the right kind may be worth considerably more than a few million cryptcreds.”
Rurthk nodded. “That's what I thought. So the whole thing looks pretty plausible.”
“And we are caught between Charybdis and Scylla,” said Dr. Wolff. “If we give the information to Sukone, he might kill us. If we run, he'll definitely hunt us down and kill us.”
“And just to add to that, because Egliante's operator contacted Sukone to get us off the planet, he knows we have the hard drives and that we're free.”
“So what the hell are we going to do about it?” said Mero.
Rurthk looked around the table. “Any suggestions?”
“Look,” said Mero. “We know he plans to turn on us. That gives us the advantage, right? So we arrange the meeting like everything's fine, then we go in there and we hit first.”
“He's a Sweetblade mob boss,” said Rurthk. “He'll kill us anyway.”
“We're damned good fighters,” said Mero. “Between you, me, and Eloise, we're not far from being a three-person army. And even if we do lose, we give him a bloody nose on our way,” said Mero “Better than being cut down in terror like infected livestock.”
“If all else fails, perhaps,” said Rurthk. “But I'd prefer a plan that doesn't end with us becoming martyrs to our own pride. Any other ideas?”
Kaivon's sections turned slightly. “Perhaps it is time to consider adopting new identities. If Sukone has what he wants, and we're too difficult to find, he may decide it's not worth the effort.”
“Run and hide, you mean?” growled Mero.
“I mean, adopt a practical course of action which we might just survive,” Kaivon said, calm as ever.
Mero snorted.
“It does seem the safer option,” Rurthk said.
“On the other hand, Sukone might still want to hunt us down,” said Eloise. “These sorts of people aren't exactly known for their rational priorities, are they? And I'd rather not spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and waiting for the knife to fall.”
Silence reigned around the table. Rurthk looked across them, his mind going through the possibilities. He'd been cheating fate for a decade now – was this where it ended?
Absolutely not, he decided. If nothing else, there was still Mero's plan.
“We're flying blind here,” Olivia said in a small voice. “Maybe it would help if we knew what was in the hard drives.”
“They're encrypted,” Rurthk said. “Unless you have a way to get around that?”
“I don't know … maybe …” said Olivia. Rurthk saw her shrink a bit as she realised everyone was looking at her. But after a moment she kept going: “Didn't Sukone say there was a passkey? And he'd hired someone else to steal it?”
“So we find the person with the passkey and steal it?” said Rurthk.
Olivia nodded.
“And how would we do that?”
“I … I don't know.”
Rurthk sat back and thought. “I might. The information brokers gave me their bulkwave contact details.” He paused. “Two things worry me. First, I think they expected me to need them again, so did they predict this? The second is rather more pressing. I don't have anything to pay them with.”
“I'm sure you'll find a way,” said Eloise. “Right now it seems like there's information flying every which way. You don't need any of your own. You just need to position yourself in the middle of it, redirect it, and skim off a bit into your own pocket.. You know, like they say about wealth.”
“Yes,” said Rurthk. “Like they say about wealth. And look where that strategy got us.”
“I reserve the right to say I told you so when we're all millionaires sipping cocktails on a beach below some O-class star,” said Eloise.
“When that happens, you can say whatever your like to me,” said Rurthk. He stood. “Okay, meeting's over. Let's see if I can get anywhere with the information brokers.”
Chapter 42: All Investment Comes With Risk
In his cabin, Rurthk gestured at the computer terminal to put through a call on the bulkwave. He put in the details and waited, half expecting there to be no response.
It took close to a minute for a reply to come through.
“Hello,” said a soft androgynous-sounding voice. “To whom am I speaking?”
“Captain Rurthk of the Outsider.”
“And do you recall the name of the broker who gave you this contact?”
“He went by Mr. Hand.”
“Excellent,” said the voice. “Sorry about that. I just needed to confirm it was really you. Given your circumstances last time you saw us, it's possible someone else had obtained our contact details. I'm sure you understand. So – how can I help you?”
“We have Tommy Egliante's hard drives, but their content is protected with a passkey. As I understand it, Sukone has hired someone else to obtain the passkey. I want to know how we can find that person and learn the passkey.”
“I see,” said the voice. “Give me a moment.” There was silence for several seconds, then it said, “Yes, I think we have that.”
“One more thing” said Rurthk. “I doubt I have enough cryptcreds to pay for this request.”
“You put me in a rather awkward position, Captain,” said the voice.
“Don't worry,” said Rurthk. “I think I have an alternate payment you might accept.”
“I can guarantee nothing … but go ahead.”
“The contents of the hard drive. There are certainly millions of cryptcreds in there. And, according to what your people told me during our last meeting, there may also be significant information about Sukone and Sweetblade.”
“And what guarantee do we have that you would pay?”
“My word,” said Sukone. “Given what Mr. Hand said, it appears you already know a little bit about me, so you can check my record and see how often I keep my promises.”
The voice said nothing.
“One more thing. I'm sure you're willing to stake your reputation on the quality of the information you give. Is that so.”
“It certainly is,” said the voice.
“Good. I'm relying on your information right now. Mr. Hand suggested that Sukone plans to betray us. If that's right, then I have no problem giving you the information on the hard drives. But if Sukone's deal with us is legitimate, if he doesn't want to kill us, your information is wrong – or misleading, at least. In that case, I give the hard drives to him and you get nothing. Does that sound fair?”
“What if Sukone kills you before you can tell us what's on the hard drive?” said the voice.
Rurthk smiled. “All investment comes with risk. You just have to decide whether the return is worth it.”
“Excuse me,” said the voice. “Please keep the line open.”
Rurthk waited for six or seven minutes, hearing only background static of the bulkwave.
When at last the information brokers responded, there was another voice. This one Rurthk recognised. It was Mr. Hand. “Hello, Captain. I believe we can do business. I'm sending you the details you might need.”
A download came through the bulkwave.
“The gist of it is this,” Mr. Hand went on. “The person you are looking for is still in transit. He is staying on a space station in the system of Gunnerside. I hope you find what you're looking for.” He cut the line without waiting for a reply.
Rurthk checked the download. It had coordinates, information about their new target, the time she was expected to be there, and a smattering of other useful information. The price tag was also attached: Ninety thousand cryptcred plus the full information content of the hard drives. Not too bad, considering.
The comm chimed. It was Mero. “Hey, Cap,” he said. “We've just got a call from our beloved employer.”
Rurthk sighed. “Put him through.”
“Here you go. Have fun,” said Mero, a note of tension running through the playful tone of his voice.
Sukone appeared on Rurthk's screen. The background showed the ostentatious décor of his base, with mosaics and gilt fittings on the walls, the glare of heat lamps shining down from above, and tables of carved green marble either side.
“Captain! I am so pleased to hear of your success,” he said, his smile bearing giant teeth. “I knew when I saw you that you were a man of substance. Indeed, you may have even given us a new ally with Tommy Egliante's operator. I think I shall have to increase your reward for that. But, of course, we can discuss that in person. Please come to these co-ordinates, where Mr. Zino will provide you with further instructions.”
“I look forward to it,” said Rurthk.
“Yes,” said Sukone. “I am sure we both eagerly await your return. This is a great moment for competence and for independence, Captain. Savour it, for times like these are few and far between.”
When the call had finished, Rurthk stood up and sighed.
*
Eloise was sitting in the observation lounge with a glass of wine when Olivia came in to get a snack.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, opening a cupboard.
Eloise shrugged. “Still hurts. Nothing I haven't been through before. Really, I should be asking the same of you.”
Olivia turned the box of Alien Crackers around in her hands as she looked at Eloise. “What?”
“Physical pain is easy,” said Eloise. “If it's not too intense, anyway. You just grit your teeth and fight through it. But emotional pain is a different beast altogether.”
Olivia said nothing.
“When we were escaping Egliante's party,” said Eloise, “most of my attention was on the fact that I'd been shot. But I still noticed how much it troubled you to shoot that guy.”
“He was attacking us.”
“That doesn't make it feel any better, though, does it?”
Olivia realised she was still holding the box. She put it on the table. “No.”
“You know, you probably killed someone before, with the car.”
“I ... hadn't thought about it.”
“It's understandable,” said Eloise. “Shooting someone is more visceral … more personal.”