Dark Space Universe (Book 2): The Enemy Within

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be happy to see you, too, Skullman. So? When do we get the green light on this?”

  “Four days from now, at seventeen hundred hours,” Lucien said.

  “Why so long? We’ve already figured out the details. We need to move!”

  “My wife is setting up a charity banquet for Fallside.”

  “I don’t give a fr—”

  “It’s a distraction,” Lucien explained, holding up a hand to forestall Joe’s expletive.

  The gangster glowered darkly at having been shushed. “Fine. Four days.”

  “Seventeen hundred hours,” Lucien repeated.

  “Get here two hours early or we’ll go without you.”

  Lucien nodded and glanced at Brak. “We’ll be here. Till then, no more meetings.”

  “Fine by me,” Joe said. “Having a cop prowling around here is bad for business.” His goons nodded their agreement with that. None of them liked having to work with cops. Lucien wasn’t thrilled about the setup, either. He glanced from Guntha, the hulking skinhead, to Fizk, the sneering, curly-haired demo guy, to the third and final member of the team, who had yet to be introduced. The man looked vaguely familiar: short dark hair, dark eyes, tall and trim with an almost military straightness to his posture. Black ops? Ex-Paragon? Lucien wondered. Where had he seen this guy before?

  The man hadn’t said a word, having spent the entire meeting in the shadows, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and dark eyes gleaming. Those eyes tracked Lucien as he turned to leave, and he hesitated, staring right back. The man’s face was an expressionless mask, and he didn’t take his eyes off Lucien for so much as a second. Not even to blink. Something about the guy was just off, and it was more than the usual gangster vibe. His movements were too precise, his muscles too loose...

  Suddenly Lucien had it. His mind flashed back to the stakeout he’d planned with Brak right before the Faros had invaded, the one where they’d seen the look-alike for Titarus Cleever, the late son of High Court Judge Cleever. This mystery guy had been there that night, too. Lucien was sure of it.

  “Something wrong?” Joe asked.

  “I have a policy about my partners in crime,” Lucien said slowly.

  Joe snorted and elbowed Fizk in the ribs. “You hear that, Fizzy? The man’s barely got his feet wet and he’s already got a policy.”

  Fizk snickered, his curly hair bobbing as air stuttered from his lips.

  Lucien took the mocking in his stride, and nodded to the man in the shadows. “Who’s he?”

  Joe turned. “Him? He doesn’t have a name.”

  “What do you mean he doesn’t have a name?” Lucien demanded.

  “He’s a bot, an android. Frekking deadly. Our best fixer. Cost a damn fortune to build him off the books and splice in new code to get past all those pesky commercial bot laws about not injuring people.”

  “That’s highly illegal,” Lucien said.

  “You aren’t going nark on me, are you, Lucy?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want Bob to have to fix you.”

  “I thought you said he doesn’t have a name.”

  “He doesn’t. That’s his human alias. He’s got an ID and everything, don’t you, Bobby boy?”

  Bob nodded slowly, but said nothing.

  Lucien grimaced and shook his head. “We’ll see you in four days, Joe.”

  “It’s a date, Lucy. Bob, why don’t you see these boys out. Go strut your stuff for them.”

  The bot melted out of the shadows, but bot was the wrong term for him. He was an android. Creating androids was supposed to be illegal—an old law from the Etherian Empire that had yet to be overturned. AI, however, had been legalized soon after Astralis left, which explained how Bob could function.

  Apparently Joe had grown tired of waiting for the laws regarding androids to catch up. As they walked downstairs and back through the club, Lucien found himself watching the girls on the stage and the waitresses sauntering through the room with their hovering trays and spotlights.

  Maybe they were all androids, too. Androids wouldn’t have the same inhibitions as people, and they presented none of the health or privacy concerns for clients that real humans did, which made them ideal sex workers.

  One of the girls brushed Lucien’s arm on his way out, her fingers grazing his. She must have felt his wedding ring, but she didn’t even blink at that. “Leaving so soon?” she asked. “Stay, and I’ll make it worth your while...” She whispered that last part in his ear, and Lucien felt his cheeks flush in spite of himself.

  Bob shot the girl a look, and she paled. An instinct for self-preservation? Maybe these girls weren’t androids, after all, but they obviously knew something about Bob. Fixer slash pimp? Lucien wondered.

  Bob stopped at the entrance and held the door open for them. “Have a good night,” he said.

  Brak walked out without a word, but Lucien lingered in the entryway. “You, too,” he said, and held out his hand to the alleged android. “Nice to meet you.” The android eyed his hand, but made no move to shake it. “Are you going to leave me hanging? We’re partners now.”

  Bob released the door—it smacked Lucien in the back, but he pretended not to notice—and took his hand. Lucien purposefully tested the man’s grip by squeezing as hard as he could. Bob’s hand resisted being crushed, and he showed no signs of discomfort. He didn’t even exhibit the vengeful human response of squeezing Lucien’s hand back.

  Definitely a bot. “See you around,” Lucien said.

  Bob nodded. “See you.”

  Lucien caught up with Brak in the parking lot.

  “I will never understand why your males visit places like this. Is it not frustrating to be enticed to mate yet not be able to do so? Are those males all... impotent?”

  Lucien laughed. “Not likely, and I’m sure most of them don’t stop at just being enticed.”

  Brak snorted. “Growing up in the Etherian Empire I learned that humans were monogamous and mate for life. In the past eight years since leaving, I have seen much to support the opposite. Do your females not mind their mates visiting such places?”

  “They can’t mind what they don’t know.”

  Brak hissed. “These men lie, too? They have no honor. My people would cast them out as exiles.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s already happened, buddy. We’re all exiles out here, and the irony is, we cast ourselves out.”

  “Yesss, I have thought this also. Perhaps we will have the sense to return home someday.”

  As they reached Lucien’s car, he waved it open, and they climbed in the back. “Hubble Mountain, Winterside, 112 Evergreen Street,” Lucien said as he buckled up.

  “Right away, sir,” the car replied. It pulled out of the parking lot and into the abandoned alley where the club was located. Down here in the sub-districts, hover cars all drove along the streets, since there wasn’t technically any sky to fly up into. The streets themselves were really just one long tunnel after the next. Lucien was amazed people didn’t get claustrophobic living down here.

  The car took them straight up a riser street to the surface, and they popped out in the middle of a park filled with snow-covered evergreens. They soared high into the sky and joined a stream of traffic at five hundred meters heading for Hubble Mountain.

  “Krak—” Lucien cursed, suddenly remembering. “—I forgot to stop at your place, Brak. You’re welcome to stay the night with us if you want. You can help us keep an eye on Atara.”

  “That is fine,” Brak said.

  “Great. I’ll take some steaks out of the freezer, for you.”

  Brak grimaced. “No, I buy fresh.”

  “Frozen’s free.”

  “Tastes free, too.”

  Lucien laughed. “Suit yourself.”

  * * *

  Astralis

  “I have Lieutenant Commander Wheeler here to see you, ma’am.”

  “Send her in, please, Corita,”
Tyra replied via her ARCs. “And make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As soon as her secretary ended the comm connection, Tyra turned off her ARCs. A moment later, the door chimed and slid open, revealing Commander Wheeler. Her blond hair was tied up in a bun, tucked under a black navy hat, but frizzy strands leaked out at odd angles, giving her a frazzled look. Making matters worse, she wasn’t wearing any makeup to conceal the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Please, take a seat, Commander,” Tyra said, and indicated one of the chairs in front of her desk.

  Commander Wheeler sat down, looking both tired and wary. “You should have already received a list of officers from both the Navy and the Marines...”

  Tyra nodded. “I did.” As she said that, she indicated her eyes with two fingers, then pointed to Wheeler’s still-glowing green eyes. She opened and closed her fist a few times fast.

  Wheeler caught on, and the light disappeared from her eyes as she turned off her ARCs. She slumped in her chair, as if someone had just cut the strings that were holding her up, and relief flickered through her gaze. “You think they’re watching us, too.”

  Tyra inclined her head to the other woman, surprised that Wheeler had begun figuring things out on her own. “Who’s they to you, Commander?”

  Some of the wariness returned to Wheeler’s eyes. “The admiral, the XO, Chief Ellis... whoever else was touched by the Faros.”

  Tyra nodded slowly. “My daughter.”

  Wheeler’s eyebrows shot up. “Your daughter?”

  “Yes. She’s been showing signs of strange behavior lately—sociopathic is the word that comes to mind.”

  “The admiral and the XO have been behaving strangely, too. They’ve been raving about Etherus with every other breath.”

  “Really?” Tyra asked.

  “They make it sound like idle talk, but...” Wheeler shook her head. “Anyone who knew them, would know that they didn’t join Astralis’s mission because they were against Etherus or the way he was running things. They joined the mission because they’re explorers at heart, and they wanted to know what’s out there.”

  “So they’ve been displaying attitudes and behaviors that are out of character for them.”

  “Yes, ma’am. They’ve also been showing an unusual amount of solidarity. Graves and Stavos rarely agreed on anything, but lately it’s like they’re two halves of the same whole.”

  Usually the chief commanding officer of a ship would pick his or her own XO, but Astralis’s mission protocol dictated that the senior officer of the Marines had to be the XO in order to balance power between the two branches of the military.

  Wheeler went on, “Ever since the Faros got to them, they’ve changed. We must have missed something in their probe analyses. I keep thinking we should have them re-tested, but if they are somehow compromised, then how can I suggest they get tested without drawing attention to myself? I might wind up dead the next day, the victim of an apparent accident.”

  Tyra nodded. “Or they might just wipe your memory.”

  Wheeler’s eyes sharpened. “They can do that?”

  “I think they’d choose to wipe selective memories, such as the memory of your suspicions, but yes, I do. I signed the Emergency War Measures Act along with all the other councilors, and I remember signing it, but I know that it’s not something that I or any of the other councilors would have signed.”

  “Then...”

  “They have someone—or several someones—inside the Resurrection Center.”

  Wheeler blew out a breath. “How are we supposed to fight this?”

  “My husband and I already have a plan, but we were hoping you might help us.”

  “What plan?”

  Tyra explained what they were doing. When she was done, she added, “The dinner is in three days. You’ll be alone on the bridge at the time, so you should be able to keep an eye on things for us, maybe even buy us some time.”

  Wheeler nodded slowly. “Risky, but if Stavos and Graves aren’t there, I think I could manage to help you. You say your husband is working with the Corettis to pull this off?”

  Tyra grimaced. “Yes.”

  “You realize they might have their own agenda for getting into the Res Center. They could hack some kind of back door into the network and then hold the ship’s wealthiest and most connected people ransom using their own minds.”

  “Sounds like what the Faros are doing now.”

  “Maybe, but for different reasons. We could be trading one devil for another.”

  “Better the devil you know,” Tyra replied. “We can worry about re-securing the facility’s databanks after we’ve got the affected people in custody.”

  Wheeler sighed. “I guess we don’t have much choice, but I might have been able to get a bomb for you.”

  “Without someone noticing, or arousing suspicions? What business does a Navy officer have checking out munitions from storage? A Marine Sergeant might get away with that, but not you.”

  “I guess you have a point there.”

  “We can’t go looking for a Marine to help us without exposing ourselves to additional risks of discovery. At least we know the Corettis haven’t been compromised. What would be the point in Faros subverting them? They can’t make any decisions on board this ship.”

  “Not important ones, anyway.”

  Tyra nodded. “So, can we count on you, Commander?”

  “Timing will be crucial. How are we supposed to keep in contact without exposing ourselves to the ships’ comm officers, or even simple eavesdropping?”

  Tyra opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a handful of small, transparent ear plugs with flexible arms for microphones. She placed them on the desk and waved a hand over them. With that gesture, the devices shimmered and vanished.

  Wheeler leaned forward, peering at eye level with the desk and looking for some sign of the cloaked comm units, but there wasn’t even a glimmer.

  “Off-the-grid comms. How am I supposed to talk into one of these without the rest of the crew over-hearing?”

  “They’ll connect up with your ARCs for text-only comms.”

  Wheeler nodded and waved her hand over the devices. The air shimmered once more and they reappeared. “Where did you get these? The Corettis?”

  “The Corettis,” Tyra confirmed.

  Wheeler took one of the comm units and placed it over her right ear. Having done that, she waved a hand past her ear and it vanished once more. Invisible accessories. Criminals used them all the time. Sophisticated scanners could still find them, but they got past all the more casual inspections.

  “I’ll send you a message a few hours before the dinner, at fifteen hundred hours,” Tyra said.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Wheeler replied.

  Tyra breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s good to have you with us on this.”

  Wheeler nodded. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s been noticing things.”

  Tyra nodded. “Let’s hope we can find the evidence we’re looking for. If we fail, we’ll likely all wake up in the Corrections Center with no idea of how we got there.”

  “Then you better make sure this works. Just whatever you do, don’t actually blow up the center.”

  “The bomb is a bluff.”

  “But it is a real bomb?” Wheeler asked.

  Tyra nodded. “My husband tells me it has to be, or the ship’s sensors will reveal that it’s a bluff.”

  “Exactly. I guess that’s the Corettis’ part in all this. Just make sure you keep an eye on them.”

  Tyra nodded. “I’ll mention your concerns to my husband. One way or another, it’s in their best interests to help us catch Ellis and the others.”

  “Sure, but after that...”

  “All bets are off.” Tyra nodded. “I’m with you there, Commander. We’ll be careful.”

  “Good,” Wheeler replied. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”

  Chapter 41

&nbs
p; Astralis

  Lucien sat with Tyra on the living room couch, her head leaning on his shoulder, his arm around hers. They watched the fire crackle in the hearth, mesmerized by the flickering flames, warming themselves by its light and each other’s heat.

  The kids were asleep—Atara in her room, and Theola in her crib in the master bedroom upstairs. They’d moved her crib now that they knew what they were dealing with.

  Brak was out on the deck, enjoying the cold—he said it reminded him of New Noctune, the facet of New Earth that had been modeled after the world where his species had evolved.

  That left him and Tyra alone together, enjoying a rare moment of intimacy that left Lucien feeling whole again for the first time in a very long time. They’d grown so far apart over the past few years that it was easy to forget how close they used to be. Lucien allowed his eyes to drift shut.

  “I wish this could last forever,” he mumbled.

  “Mmmm?” Tyra asked.

  Lucien repeated that sentiment, louder this time.

  “I’d like that, too...” Tyra said, but trailed off as if she’d left something unsaid.

  Lucien glanced down, seeking her gaze. “It could last. We could be like this again. All you have to do is resign from the council.”

  “And then? Do what?”

  Lucien shrugged. “Whatever you want. So long as it’s nine to five instead of nine to nine.”

  “We’d have to move. We won’t be able to afford to live like this anymore. We might even have to leave the surface level.”

  “So? We get an apartment in the districts like everyone else. Is that so bad? We can still visit the surface, use the parks, go to the restaurants. All we’d miss is the view—” He gestured to the picture window beside them, the world beyond cloaked in the shadows of the night. “You’re never here to appreciate that, anyway.”

  Tyra straightened, and her head left his shoulder; he removed his arm from around hers, and suddenly they were two mismatching halves again.

  Lucien grimaced, angry at himself for ruining the moment by bringing up an old argument, and angry at Tyra for reacting the same way she always had.