Sic Semper Tyrannis: The Chimera Adjustment, Book Two (Imperium Cicernus 5)

by Caleb Wachter

  “What about the other thing?” Shu asked tightly, referring to the man’s objectionable sexual appetites.

  “It’s not our purview, Shu,” Jericho shook his head slowly, knowing that the subject was one that Shu wouldn’t give up on easily for personal reasons.

  Before Shu could argue, Jericho heard a telltale beep issue from the helicopter’s console. “What’s that?” she asked as Jericho closed the door beside Cox and locked it.

  Jericho reached into the front seat to adjust the settings on the radio which was emitting the noise, but he missed a step somewhere and failed to home in on the signal properly. Just then, his ruined arm spasmed with more pain than it had done previously and he instinctively cradled it against his chest. The pain was extraordinary, and far from the ‘mild spasms’ the doctors had suggested he might feel. But his arm had been far more useful than he had expected it to be, and if a little pain was the tradeoff for that utility then he would not complain.

  “Set the transceiver to return the signal, Shu,” he instructed after a few seconds of controlled breathing and pain-controlling meditation. “We’ll get coordinates a few seconds later.”

  Shu did as instructed and, just as Jericho had expected, a set of coordinates popped up on the small radar’s display. “Got it,” she said as she tapped the fuel gauge with her glossy nails. “Let’s just hope we have enough fuel…”

  In truth, Jericho had begun to question whether or not their pickup would be where it was scheduled to be. But the transponder clearly showed they had indeed travelled to where they were supposed to rendezvous with their pick-up. In just a few minutes he would be able to transfer Cox into the custody of someone who would have to figure out what to do with him.

  “There it is,” Jericho said, pointing to a distant point on the water where a strobing yellow light was flashing. “I’ll take us in,” he said as he began to slide into the pilot’s chair.

  “No way, Jay,” Shu said firmly, “I’ve logged hundreds of hours in realistic simulators; I’ve got this.”

  “You’ve never landed one of these, Shu,” he protested weakly, hiding a grin at her predictable decision to set them down herself. In truth, he was uncertain he could do as well even with two good arms; it had been a test, and she had responded precisely as he had hoped she would.

  “I’ve seen your parking, old man,” Shu quipped. “I’ll take my chances with two hundred hours in simulators for this class of vehicle over your shaky old hands any day.”

  “Video games aren’t reality,” Jericho grumbled a bit more sourly than he had expected to do as he sat back in the rear seat beside Cox.

  “Do me a favor, will you? Have me killed if I ever start sounding like you,” Shu said with a grin as she brought the helicopter closer to the landing pad—which was just now visible after having emerged from the grey-black water of Virgin’s largest ocean.

  “Mr. Bronson,” Tera St. Murray greeted from the submarine’s deck adjoining the landing pad—a pad on which Shu had essentially landed a bull’s eye on the first attempt, despite twenty knot winds of wind and eight foot seas.

  “Ms. St. Murray,” Jericho acknowledged as he dragged Cox from the copter. He stopped and took a deep breath of the sea air, which was just as intoxicating as he remembered it to be.

  St. Murray cocked an eyebrow at the bound Cox, “A friend?”

  “A failure in every sense of the word,” Jericho corrected, handing him to a nearby security guard who proceeded to frog-march him below decks. Jericho shook his head piteously as the man disappeared, “But he might have given us some information we can use.”

  “Then he has played his own small part,” St. Murray said coolly, gesturing to the nearby stairs which were situated beside the landing pad, “and for that we should be grateful.”

  “Says you,” Shu quipped bitterly as they made their way off the landing pad and into the stairs that led into the submarine. “What about the chopper?” She asked after they had reached the companionway.

  “That thing?” St. Murray asked bemusedly.

  Jericho cracked a lopsided grin as he clapped Shu on the shoulder, “Like Mr. Cox, its part in our little play has come and gone.”

  Shu looked in confusion at them just before the sound of hydraulic cylinders could be heard—and even felt through the deck beneath their feet. Turning around, her mouth fell open in abject alarm as she saw the platform on which she had just landed begin to tilt upward until the light helicopter slid off the deck of the submarine and fell into the ocean.

  Thirty seconds later, the temporary landing pad had folded neatly along the sides of the submarine and an alarm sounded from deep within the stairwell.

  “Your next mode of transit is six hours from here,” St. Murray explained, gesturing to the innards of the submarine and Jericho gladly followed her as she led them into the vessel. The large doors slid shut above their heads and sealed off the exterior of the submarine. Seconds later, the sound of the waves lapping against the steel hull of the vessel disappeared as they descended to what Jericho assumed was a depth which would permit them to move with relative stealth.

  “I feel like a new woman…” Shu declared after stepping out of the head with one towel wrapped around her jet-black hair and another wrapped around her petite body.

  “Here,” Jericho gestured to the data slates he had arranged on the table, “help me figure out the connection.”

  Shu slid into the bench opposite his own in the booth-like dinette built against the hull of the submarine and, after playing with her hair for a few more seconds, slid the slates into positions before her.

  “So…” she mused after flipping through a few of the files, “what we’re thinking is that Obunda planted the bug—or maybe even the whole scrambled data link—on Cox so he could mine his private and workplace records?”

  “Right,” Jericho nodded, mostly feeling irritated at his inability to do what seemed to come so easily to people like Shu, “Obunda was sick, but he wouldn’t pose as transsexual jail-bait and indulge Cox in his perverse little games without a serious payoff involved. The question is: what was it?”

  “So that means we’ve got a connection between this…” she said as she flipped open the document containing the information Cox had jotted down just before landing on the submarine, “’promax,’ who was Cox’ grey market supplier, and Obunda since Cox’ records prove he did in fact receive the scrambled link from promax.”

  “Correct,” Jericho nodded shortly, having already spent the last twenty minutes—during which Shu had taken her luxurious shower—trying, and failing, to put the pieces together.

  “Hmm…” Shu mused, flipping through a series of files in much the same order that Jericho had done a few minutes earlier. But her fingers moved much faster than his ever could have during a data mining operation—and that said nothing of his ruined arm, which was becoming considerably less reliable with each passing day. “Here’s something,” Shu said, spinning one of the slates around so Jericho could read it, “it’s thin, but—“

  “Tsushima,” Jericho interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he realized the connection had been right in front of him. “Promax’s goods come primarily from Tsushima—especially modules like Cox’ scrambled link.”

  “You said something about a Tsushima connection back on the Zhuge Liang,” Shu nodded as her eyes continued scanning through the documents with machine-like efficiency, “I don’t remember what that connection was, but this is all I can see right now to connect Cox, promax, and Obunda—and, like I said, it’s thin. Without an uplink to the Virgin ‘net, there’s not much more we’re likely to find but I’ll keep digging through this stuff just in case.”

  “Those rare mineral matrices I took from Angelo were manufactured in Tsushima,” Jericho mused, sitting back in his chair and clearing his mind. “But the minerals themselves came from Philippa—specifically from supposedly defunct mines which were, until recently, operated on the sly by the Keno clan.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t follow,” Shu said in confusion, looking up from the slates, “what’s the big deal with where the minerals came from? I mean they had to be mined somewhere, right?”

  Jericho barely heard her question as his eyes snapped back and forth silently while his mind ran through dozens—perhaps hundreds—of reasons for the connection between Governor Keno, Obunda, Cox, and this shady ‘promax’ character.

  “The mineral matrices are expensive,” Jericho said slowly as he failed to arrive at a satisfactory answer to the question before them, “very expensive; they’re used primarily in phase drive construction and maintenance, along with high-end electronics.”

  “So?” Shu asked with a quirked eyebrow.

  “So…” Jericho continued, “there’s nothing on the commodity markets to suggest those minerals ever existed in the first place, nor is there an influx of goods which would require those minerals to manufacture—especially not in the quantities we’re talking about.”

  As if a light had switched on somewhere in her mind, Shu’s expression turned from skeptical confusion to one of guarded comprehension, “So there’s an underground pipeline for these minerals…and it runs through Tsushima?”

  “Right,” Jericho nodded, “and somehow Obunda was involved with it…but I don’t think he would have been involved for anything as simple as money. You know better than I do that people with your particular set of skills don’t really need to worry about next month’s rent.”

  “So…if you don’t think he was in it for the money,” Shu mused, “then you’re thinking he must have been trying to learn more about it.”

  “That’s one of the flaws with the thought process of people like Obunda,” Jericho agreed with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes, trying to fight the weariness away, “they think the only value of a fish in hand is as bait for an even bigger fish.”

  “Sometimes you just have to deal with the problem in front of you,” Shu agreed, catching Jericho more than slightly off-guard.

  “I didn’t expect to hear you say that,” he admitted.

  “Well, it’s not how my mind normally works,” she said with a mildly defensive shrug, “but I’ve seen enough to know that my way isn’t always the best way—why do you think I’m working as your operator instead of doing my own Adjustments?”

  Jericho cocked his head, “I always thought it was just a physical thing.”

  “What?” she said incredulously. “You think I can’t take out someone like you just because I’m small?”

  “That’s not what I said,” he said pointedly.

  “It’s what you meant, though,” she said with a sigh as she shook her head, though the truth was that had not been Jericho’s meaning. “And, in truth, that’s part of it…but the bigger problem is that I end up tripping over my own thoughts and doubts too much; being like you is better for this line of work. You don’t overthink things.”

  “I don’t know if I’d agree with that,” he said, pleasantly surprised at the unexpected turn in the conversation.

  “I’m not saying you don’t think about things,” she said carefully, “I’m just saying you don’t think about them too much; you come up with a plan and, even if it’s not a great one, you follow through with it. You’re plenty smart and you always have contingencies in place for when things go south, but you don’t get paralyzed by your own thoughts like I do. I guess that’s why I’m no good at chess; I approach it more like how a computer does and end up getting lost in the sequencing.”

  “That’s pretty insightful,” Jericho said approvingly after a moment’s consideration.

  He could see her flush with embarrassment, but Shu pressed forward with a good poker face and said, “So Obunda was trying to use these Tsushima-bound minerals as bait…or a trap of some kind?”

  “It fits his psych profile,” Jericho nodded, “and it would explain at least some part of why he never acted on the Blanco Adjustment despite holding the Mark for five years. It would also explain why he kept eliminating Adjusters before they got into position to execute the Keno Adjustment: he didn’t want the pipeline to go so deep underground he’d never find it again. I initially assumed he was working with Blanco in some capacity—and I’m not ready to abandon that possibility entirely—but if this pipeline idea is solid then it suggests he knew a lot more about what’s going on than I suspected.”

  “Do you regret killing him?” Shu asked bluntly.

  Jericho shook his head resolutely, “Even if Obunda was trying to climb this ladder one rung at a time so he could take out whoever’s at the top, he was doing it by allowing the continued suffering of the people who depended on him to do his job in a timely manner. And I don’t just mean the Adjusters he killed; I’m talking about the people who suffered at Keno’s feet and the people who Blanco’s tyranny is now costing their lives. No, Shu,” he shook his head again, “I only regret I wasn’t able to kill him sooner.”

  “And that’s why you’re the right man for the job,” she sighed, and silence hung between them for several awkward seconds.

  “Getting back to this,” Jericho said plaintively as he gestured to the data slates on the table, “maybe Ms. St. Murray could give us a hand?”

  “How did she get a submarine, anyway?” Shu asked archly.

  “Her family’s not exactly in love with President Blanco—or his SDF Admirals,” Jericho explained. “Turns out the sub’s commander is a cousin of General Pemberton.”

  “The same Pemberton you iced in that country safe-house?” Shu asked with wide eyes. “What makes you think the sub’s CO wouldn’t take the chance for a little payback on his cousin’s killer?!”

  “His reasons are his own,” Jericho shrugged, “but his seizure of this vessel proves that both he and Tera St. Murray are as much on our side as anyone can be in times like these. Besides, I had nothing to do with the kidnapping of Pemberton’s family.”

  Shu’s eyes narrowed slightly and she nodded, clearly less than pleased with the situation, “You’re the boss, Jay.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Jericho said strictly, “I don’t think we’ll be breaking bread with these folks any time soon, but they’re smart people; they know we have to work together if we’re going to come out of this situation anywhere but under Blanco’s heel. Which is why,” he said, standing from the table, “you’re going to finish getting dressed and I’m going to check in with Ms. St. Murray. With luck, she might be able to add a few pieces to this puzzle before we set off on our next leg.”

  Chapter XVII: An Investigation

  Jericho and Shu had barely set foot on the small manmade island in the middle of the rolling seas before it was time for them to leave. The atoll was located in the middle of the world’s largest ocean, and had apparently been an oil rig at some point in the not-too-distant past. It was, perhaps surprisingly, considered sovereign territory and therefore was not subject to the majority of search-and-seizure laws governing Virgin’s continental locales.

  “That is all I have found thus far,” Tera St. Murray said measuredly, her stoic demeanor unflappable as always after Jericho had perused the information on the data slate she handed him. “I am sorry I was unable to procure more; it seems that Blanco’s grip on information flow is even tighter than I had anticipated.”

  “This is plenty,” Jericho said with genuine appreciation, seeing that she had indeed filled in several gaps—and her information pointed solidly in the same direction as that which they had gotten from Mr. Cox: Tsushima. “Thankfully, you’ve arranged for better transport than I’d expected; if we can’t find what we need on the ‘nets then we might make a stop at Tsushima after we’re finished in New Lincoln.”

  “Regarding the New Lincoln Adjustment,” St. Murray said with a lone note of resignation in her voice, “I have been unable to satisfy reasonable certainty for any of the tyranny charges brought against him. If you do not find evidence on your own, I fear that Mr. Afolabi will be the second of your Adjustments which you will be unable to execute.
”

  “That would be a shame,” Jericho said, sharing a brief look with Shu as the small, black-haired woman slid into their conveyance and strapped her seat belt on. “So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he added, deciding against letting Ms. St. Murray in on their backup plan for Mr. Afolabi.

  “Unlike requisitioning my cousin’s submarine,” St. Murray said with a gesture at the mostly-submerged vessel, which was presently docked alongside the atoll, “procuring transport off-world will be difficult; I will require a relatively precise estimation for your departure time, and I will require it no less than twelve hours prior to lift-off.”

  “Is security really that tight?” Shu asked skeptically. “It didn’t seem that hard to get down to the planet…I mean, aside from the whole ‘skydive from hell’ thing,” she added with a baleful look in Jericho’s direction.

  “In times like these, the usual rules on immigration and emigration invert,” Jericho explained. “Governments are usually more concerned with what comes into their jurisdiction, but in times of civil unrest and dissatisfaction they focus on preventing citizens—and, more importantly, information—from getting out.”

  “Nonetheless,” continued St. Murray smoothly, “I have arranged for transport.”

  “Will this transport be able to make a detour if needed?” Jericho asked.

  St. Murray quirked an eyebrow, “That depends primarily on the compensation provided for such a detour, and just how large of a detour is being requested.”

  “My funds are a little tight at the moment,” Jericho said honestly, having entirely used assets left over from previous Adjustments for the three Tyrannis Adjustments they had thus far pursued, “but we’ll probably be able to work something out if the captain’s amenable to cash-on-delivery.”