Provider Prime: Alien Legacy

by John Vassar

  He closed the Cytec report and set his personal decryption algorithm to work on Devlin’s Level 9 message. The twenty minutes it took allowed him the luxury of a Nectin. His security programming skills had not deserted him and the airscreen flashed ready. He jumped straight to the last chronological file, time-stamped less than an hour ago. This should give a strong clue as to whether Devlin considered his mission to be compromised.

  Devlin was a man of few words as far as that went.

  Genome analysis on corpse from Showing incident inconclusive. No correlation with Populus record of any person living or dead. From facial reconstruction simulation, your assailant was not Wyntour. Whereabouts of the real Darius Wyntour unknown. IDN is still transmitting life signs but no location data. Initial cross-correlation of facial signature with known sceleri also negative. Have means to cover your involvement in this incident but under no circumstances attempt contact.

  Full encrypted data attached to enable mission to proceed.

  End of message.

  Mitchell cursed under his breath. No-one falls off the Populus grid. An unidentifiable human being is an impossibility, as is another ID Node not transmitting location data... Worse, the one-way coms flow meant Mitchell could not communicate his theory about Lamont to Devlin. The one consolation was that his mission was still active. The DS commander must be pulling strings that he didn’t know he had…

  Mitchell flicked back to the beginning of the files and spent the next three hours absorbing as much detail as possible. He concentrated on Cytec and their Euro-2 operation before opening the DS case files leading up to Harry’s death. He read how Doyle had pieced together the insurance fraud case with Julius Moreno’s information before coming to a dead end after Eduard Reber’s disappearance. He read how an experienced agent under Harry’s command had vanished without trace after penetrating Cytec’s Euro-2 facility. Something else that Harry hadn’t revealed at Mulligan’s.

  Then, in graphic detail, he read how his friend Harry Doyle had died.

  Devlin had included the co-ordinates that had been extrapolated from the attack data. The weapon’s point of origin was on the southern shore of Lake Ontario, a natural vantage point for Yorktown Terminus. The analysis team deployed by Devlin had drawn a blank. No latent energy signature, no ground disturbance, no DNA from the sweat of an assassin’s brow. Mitchell scratched his head and studied the area again.

  It was less than two kilometres from Mulligan’s bar.

  No. Greaseball didn’t have the wits to pick up the right end of a fork, let alone orchestrate an attack on Harry’s skimmer. But he was involved somehow.

  At a basic, intuitive level, Mitchell knew it.

  Devlin’s penultimate file gave the location of Mitchell’s promised new transport. Accessing and evaluating it would be tomorrow’s first task, followed by a re-visit to Yorktown to have a quiet word with Greaseball.

  He closed the files and stared at nothing. He thought of Harry Doyle and a chill ran through his veins. He remembered the last words Harry had spoken to him.

  That was no way for good friends to part.

  Mitchell swiped the drink off his desk and the tumbler thudded against the wall.

  What the hell was he doing?

  Why did he care if he was still working for Devlin?

  A stabbing pain in his head almost felled him. The same as at the Showing, but more intense and this time, constant. Mitchell got to his feet and stumbled into the preproom. He crashed around in the cabs, scattering packets and meds across the floor. He grabbed the strongest one, took twice the recommended dose and gulped down some water. Five minutes of jogging on the spot to pump the chemicals through his system gave no improvement. He retreated to the lounge, slumped into his multichair and rubbed his hands across his face. His pulse thumped in his ears and his head felt like it was about to explode. Why? There was no history of hypertension in his family. He had regular checkups and an exercise regime that bordered on the obsessive, despite his denials to Harry Doyle.

  What did those bastards do to him at Sat-1?

  The Autolock chimed.

  The pain vanished.

  Mitchell opened his eyes with caution, as if they might fall out. He blinked twice. Had the meds kicked in? He looked at his hands, which had stopped shaking. He rose and went to the vista panel, now convinced that The Link had fried his brain.

  ‘Mirror.’ Mitchell looked at his reflection. He may have felt better inside but his face hadn’t caught up and he looked like shit.

  The Autolock chimed again.

  Leave me alone…

  Mitchell strode to the portal, ready to give some serious verbal abuse to whichever brand of sales autom it was. Rayna Aston stood outside, dressed in black and looking so gorgeous that all he could say was, ‘Come in.’

  They sat on the couch for several minutes. He spotted the tumbler on the floor, retrieved it and mumbled his way back to the preproom, hoping she wouldn’t follow and discover the wreckage. He returned with two Nectins, regardless of the consequences for his possible brain tumour. They sat some more.

  ‘How was the service?’

  ‘It was okay. Suki wouldn’t stop wailing and my Mom nearly hit her.’

  Mitchell smiled. ‘You will get through this. I lost my father when I was younger than you. It hurts like hell but you learn to deal with it.’

  ‘I feel angry, Lee.’

  ‘I did too. When something that should never- ’

  ‘Angry that someone tried to kill us at my own sister’s Showing!’ Rayna’s eyes were on fire and Mitchell thought he may have to have to ward off a second attack of the day. She took a breath. ‘And angry that you can’t tell me why.’

  He reached out and cradled the back of her neck. ‘Do you trust me?’

  She nodded and Mitchell believed her. He decided, for once, to give her the truth. ‘You and I are the only witnesses to what happened in that chamber. I can look after myself, but you might still be in danger. I haven’t told you this before, but I used to be part of FedStat.’

  ‘I guessed you might be. You were very good at fighting.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. But I’m going to let FedStat take care of you from now on.’ Mitchell prayed that Devlin would follow protocol and that this didn’t turn out to be an empty, fatal promise. ‘You’ll be under Cat 2 protection, which is as good as it gets.’

  For the general Populus, anyway.

  Rayna was oblivious to what he was saying. She looked at him with an intensity that burned straight into his soul. ‘You’re going to leave. I know you are. Please don’t, please stay with me.’

  He withdrew his hand. ‘I have to, at least for a while. A friend of mine was killed a few days ago. A good friend. I have to find out who did it, Rayna, I don’t have any choice.’ It wasn’t until he said it out loud that he understood. Devlin’s duplicity aside, he didn’t have a choice.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘What was his name, your friend that died?’

  ‘Harry.’

  ‘That’s a nice name. The sort of name a dad should have.’

  ‘He had an ex-wife, but no kids. Lucky, I suppose. It would have been tough on them.’

  ‘Maybe you were his family.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  There was an uneasy silence for a few seconds.

  ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for Harry’s death. He wouldn’t have wanted –’

  ‘How the fuck do you know what he wanted?’ Mitchell sprang up and the tumbler hit the floor a second time. ‘You never met him! You only met me yesterday and already you’re an expert on the life and times of Lee Mitchell!’

  Rayna turned away, her voice choked. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help the way I am. I just... know these things, that’s all. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I am a freak. People don’t like any deviation from the normal, do they? But I thought you were different. I thought you’d understand. I’m sorry... I shouldn’t expect so much from you.’

  S
he made a rush for the portal but Mitchell was too quick and stopped her. She tried to push past him but he wouldn’t let her. She hammered his chest with her fists, tears streaming down her face. He found himself holding her wrists. He stared at her and she stopped struggling. He said, ‘Tell me not to. Tell me if you don’t want this.’

  She kissed him hard on the lips. They fell to floor in a tangle of limbs, pulling at each other’s clothes. Their love was feverish and clumsy but it was what they both wanted.

  What they both needed.

  Lying on the sleeper where Talia Ash’s life as Latere Volgis had ended, Mitchell stared up at the smooth, grey ceiling with a sense of calm. Not a post-sex combination of satisfaction and exhaustion, a deeper sense of well-being. After the last few days, it was a feeling he welcomed. The girl in the crook of his arm snuggled closer. He looked at her, drinking in her warmth, her beauty. Harry would not have begrudged him this.

  Rayna stirred, opened her eyes and returned his gaze. She stroked the red mark on the side of his head and said, ‘It’s okay. It doesn’t matter about you and Talia.’

  Mitchell took her hand and kissed it. ‘My timing could have been better…’

  ‘Talia wouldn’t have minded. I know she wouldn’t.’ She gave a cheeky, sleepy smile. ‘Sorry if I jumped on you...’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Mitchell. ‘Anyway, you’ve got nothing to apologise for.’

  ‘Not even for being a freak?’

  Welcome to the club. ‘I don’t think you’re a freak. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded. Things are happening fast and I have to be careful who I trust.’

  ‘I know what that’s like. Even Dad couldn’t accept Talia and me. That’s why he left.’

  Mitchell pulled her closer to him. ‘Then your dad was blind,’ he said. ‘How long ago did he leave?’

  ‘Three years, two months and seven days, not that I’m counting.’

  ‘I’m sorry. What will you do now that Talia’s gone?’

  ‘Stay where I am for the time being. I’m lucky, I love my work. I’m a researcher at the Tereshkova Orbital Hospice.’

  Supremely comfortable, Mitchell felt his eyes closing again. ‘What sort of research?’

  ‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Physical Research. Parapsychology. Empathic responses. All that nonsense tough guys like you try to ignore…’

  ‘Doesn’t matter whether I want to ignore it or not, it’s here to stay.’ Mitchell’s eyes had opened again. Suddenly he didn’t feel sleepy any more. ‘What did OBC come out with last week? Seven percent of the Populus admitting to elevated mental sensitivity?’

  Rayna’s eyes were wide too. ‘That’s just the people that admit to it. We think it’s nearer twenty percent that are affected. Part of my work is to help them come to terms with what they’re feeling, help them through it. Not all of them can deal with it, of course…’

  ‘How about you? How are you coping?’

  ‘It’s lonely sometimes,’ Rayna whispered. ‘I feel so close to people and they just pull away. Talia was the only one who would never do that to me, and now she’s gone.’

  ‘You’re just more honest than most. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  With her face pressed into his neck, he heard Rayna say ‘Thank you.’

  It was strange, but he hadn’t felt her lips move against his skin.

  Stranger still, he hadn’t expected to.

  8

  Mitchell’s father had taken him to the opening of the Apollo Café as a tenth birthday treat. He had never forgotten his first sight of the Pegasus. A beast of a machine, its entire length forming a giant fission-fragment propulsion reactor. Even at one-tenth scale, the 3D had to be projected outside the café building itself. As the young Lee Mitchell had pointed out to anyone who would listen, it was the fastest ship on Earth and had reached the outer edge of the solar system in less than two years.

  Mitchell swigged the last of an awful cup of coffee. Twenty years on, the Apollo Café was looking its age. The Pegasus display was long since gone, replaced by a more modest and less power-consuming 3D of the Excalibur, Earth’s latest long-mission craft. Excalibur’s Continuum Drive pushed sub-C speeds to the ultimate, enabling a round trip mission to Centauri B of less than ten years with almost zero time dilation. After six months of exploration and close to five years on the homeward leg, the crew would be Earth-side again in just over three weeks. There would be no media frenzy. The mission biologists had reported no detectable life in the binary system and the Populus had already lost interest. The media had so far missed the real success story: This would be the first time human explorers had visited another star system and survived.

  Mitchell finished a fruit salad whose freshness was decidedly suspect, but he forgave the Apollo for most things. This was his refuge, his link with memories from a time when his life was simpler. He should have gone straight to hangar 73 where Devlin’s file had indicated his new transport awaited, but an Apollo breakfast was just a Transit ride away.

  The quality of their coffee may explain his recent symptoms, though…

  The airscreen show turned its attention to mission personnel. Daniel Estephan, only son of Devlin’s predecessor at Delere Secos, was in command. Mitchell had never met him but saw the family resemblance. Excalibur had reached the Centauri system just a few months before Estephan senior had broken the news of the SenANNs’ decision over his future. Mitchell didn’t blame him. Estephan at least had the decency to be straight with him before he left his office. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see the inside of that room again.

  Mitchell surveyed the menu and decided not to risk anything else. He passed his IDN across the teller and five minutes later was back on the Transit. The car wasn’t crowded, most were students who thinned out as they passed through the education sector. His pulse raised a little at a pretty girl opposite, and not just because of the tightness of her denims. She was displaying classic sceler give-aways. Rapid sideways eye movements, a sure ‘tell’ of guilt. A twitching left forefinger suggested she was a user of something stronger than a Friday-night sniffer cocktail. Staffer-level stuff, of course, but still a sceler. He thought of Talia Ash and wondered if any of the remaining passengers were Latere. To the Populus they didn’t exist, either as a name or as a concept. Not for the first time, he marvelled at how Latere Volgis had remained secret. FedStat’s memory-erasing procedures must have played a more significant role over the decades than the High Council cared to admit. The fact that he still knew they existed was the only comfort in that line of thought.

  Mitchell disembarked at the hangar complex along with a few professionals who looked like they could afford something a hell of a lot better than his own thirty-year-old ‘classic’. He crossed reception and took the elevator down to Level 3. His own ship was docked on the far side of the bay where the facilities were more rudimentary. This elevator car was cleaner and a lot more spacious than the one he was used to. Even the autom annunciator sounded sexy.

  Hangar 73 did not disappoint. Mitchell stood for a while, letting his eyes wander over the gleaming alloy and composite body.

  Devlin had given him nothing less than a Mark V Pursuit Skimmer.

  It was a thing of beauty and a genuine wolf in sheep’s clothing. FedStat had designed their fastest conventional-drive ship to mimic the Axor 700, a Populus-legal exec model. With its external insignia turned off, a Mark V could easily pass for the civilian craft, the differences noticeable only to an experienced eye. The thrust nozzles were fractionally larger than those of the Axor, as were the manoeuvring ports. There was also a slight bulge under the Mark V’s nose that housed the cam circuits, something unavailable to the Populus regardless of their credit balance.

  Mitchell resisted the temptation to run his hand along the seamless, silver-black flanks. Until access had been granted, the anti-intrusion systems would be alert to the slightest touch. In his files, Devlin had hinted th
at the Skimmer’s access code would already be familiar. Mitchell guessed right and comlinked-in his old DS serial number. The hatch and entry steps deployed silently. The interior was spotless and smelt brand new. Any similarity to an Axor 700 vanished as he stepped inside - a civilian pilot would have turned around and walked out again. To Mitchell it was like meeting an old friend, albeit with a change of clothes and a haircut.

  The contours of the command seat adjusted to his size and weight as he settled in. His smile broadened as he initiated the start-up sequence. There was a prickling sensation between his eyes, like an small electrostatic charge. It was so familiar,he didn’t realise it was there. The words‘Authorised for Flight’ appeared in front of him. The germinating thought that something might be wrong with that never had the chance to mature.

  Lee Mitchell’s mind exploded into a crescendo of noise, light and pain.

  He doubled over as colour and sound merged into an energy so intense that it burned from the inside. He tried to reach out and deactivate the systems, but his whole body was in spasm. Nightmarish visions pulled him deeper towards unconsciousness. He struggled against them, his hands clawing at empty space. He could hear someone choking far away.

  Behind the maelstrom he felt something intelligent.

  Something trying to take control.

  The noise and light began to fade until there was no sound but his own heartbeat. The kaleidoscope of light spiralled into a black slick that coiled itself around him, a void containing every nightmare he had ever experienced, every monster that had ever laid in wait for him in the dark. He dare not breath. He was balanced on the edge of infinity and knew that if he fell, it would be forever. Then, he felt it again. Something with purpose, moving around him and inside him at the same time. The pain stopped being pain. It swirled and merged with the thing that had invaded his soul.

  Then, it was gone.

  He collapsed back into the seat, fighting to stay conscious. His vision was blurred and the little that he could see was red. Through the haze, he remembered how it had begun. A standard pre-flight message from the skimmer’s onboard systems - a message he should not have been able to see at all.