by T. R. Harris
In the eyes of the Empires, none of them were innocent. The refugees enthusiastically joined Stimmel and set about helping with the subjugation of as many Dead Worlds as possible. They coordinated the MK technicians, helped supply machines and equipment, provided scientific expertise in a variety of fields, and even helped Stimmel prepare dark matter bombs as a deterrent against attack. Maybe a few weren’t as guilty as others, but that was something the courts would decide. For now, no one was allowed on or off the planet, while any stray Gracilians found in the galaxy were rounded up and returned to their homeworld.
A few years before, Kovach and Vodenik were on Navarus when the rogue Aris service module Kanan made his move against the planet. They were subsequently captured and imprisoned. When Kanan returned, threatening the planet with destruction by dark matter bombs, they escaped and made it to Dracendor, one of the worlds that would be eventually bought by Wolfgang Stimmel. He learned of their presence and brought them into his inner advisory council. They eventually ended up at the ancient Aris Technician base in pursuit of a mysterious object called the Formation. They helped set up the device before Stimmel’s arrival. Later, they were in an Aris computer control room, manipulating quantum anchors against Cain and the mutants while also rummaging through databases for any ancient secrets they could find.
When Stimmel lost control of the situation in the Formation room, Vodenik and Kovach left with the rest of the surviving Gracilians only minutes before Stimmel died.
Armed with the knowledge from the Aris computers, the pair set about working on merging quantum field technology with what they already knew of teleportation. Once perfected, the technology sat idle for over a year while they tried to think of a use for it.
Then three months ago, they were contacted by a mysterious figure, offering to sell them items they had once managed for Wolfgang Stimmel. The return of these items would mark a significant reversal in the affairs of the Gracilians—all Gracilians. However, the cost was exorbitant. That was when Vodenik and Kovach discovered a use for their radical new technology.
Although non-violent, Gracilians did have one hell of a temper. Mike could hear them yelling throughout half the ship. Curious who they were talking with on the CW link, he moved a little closer, until he was just outside the comm center.
“All we need is a little more time,” Kovach was saying. “Surely, you can grant us that. We already have over half the credits.”
“Only half?” said a voice on the link. Mike didn’t dare look inside in case the person on the screen saw him. “You have had three months. The other buyer already has the money. I can’t keep putting them off.”
Mike frowned at the familiar speech pattern. It sounded a lot like a Human. With universal translators at work, it was hard to tell by the words alone.
“But they are not offering as much as we are,” Vodenik said.
“Yeah, but they’re the Gradis. If they say they have the money, they have it. I took a chance with the two of you, thinking that because you worked with Stimmel that you had access to some of his money. I see now I was wrong.”
“You know what we have done so far. We can continue.”
“I know about Navarus. You really screwed that up, didn’t you?”
Human, definitely Human, Mike thought. And with an accent to boot—Scottish?
“We planned for such an event. We have three other ships equipped and ready.”
“And what’s to say you don’t screw it up again? The Juireans are on to you. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing.”
“We will not. We have plans for one more theft, this time from a Regional Depository.”
Mike winced. Dammit! So much for security. The Gracilians are spilling their guts to anyone who will listen. Mike didn’t know the speaker from Adam. How did he know if he’d keep his mouth shut?”
“That’s pretty ambitious.”
“It is,” Kovach agreed. “But it means only one more event, and we will have your credits.”
“All one billion, seven hundred fifty million?”
Even Mike gasped.
“No, one-and-a-half-billion!” Kovach stammered.
“The price just went up. And the deadline stays the same. Seeing that you only need one more heist to get the money, then you don’t need the extra time.”
“But we need crews for our other ships. And the anchors must be placed. And the Juireans will be taking precautions.”
“Now you see why it might be safer for me to deal with the Gradis Cartel. What you’re promising is just wishful thinking.”
“We will meet your price!” Vodenik yelled. “Please, do not sell the Dark Matter Collectors to the Cartel.”
There it is! Mike smiled. He’d suspected; now he had confirmation. Mike knew about the DMCs, even being present when Adam recovered one of the three stolen units from Stimmel while on the planet Woken. He also knew the whole killing Adam Cain thing was a diversion so Stimmel could steal the devices from the mutants in the first place. Now the Gracilians want them back, and for one billion, seven hundred fifty million credits. Mike almost whistled, which would have certainly given him away. Instead, he listened closely to what the mysterious Human seller would say. He’d been silent for far too long as it was, making the aliens sweat. The speaker knew how to negotiate with Gracilians, just as Mike did.
“Very well,” said the accented voice. “But as I said, the timetable remains. Cain and his damn Enforcers have me locked down here, and they’re getting closer. I need to sell the collectors soon, and the Cartel is the easy way, the guaranteed way. But if you can come up with the money, then you can have them. But be warned, this is the last negotiation. The Gradis are going to be pissed as it is that I haven’t agreed to the deal with them. And they’re not the kind of people you want to piss off. Now get me my bloody money!”
Mike rushed back to his compartment. Things were happening fast, too fast. He would have to plan a major hit to come up with the money the Gracilians needed, and they would be insisting he make it happen.
The Human was also threatening to sell the DMCs to the Gradis … if that was even true. It may have just been a negotiating tactic, but the gullible Gracilians fell for it. It didn’t matter. They would insist they hit a Regional Depository. That was the only place where they could get the money they needed. But the timing was dicey, the preparations on the fly. He didn’t like to operate like this. It was too dangerous. He needed his money so he could stay one step ahead of the Juireans. It was looking as if he would be lucky to last another month.
He lay down on his bed and stared at the overhead. He needed a plan, one that would solve all his problems. The thought would cause many sleepless nights in the days to come.
Chapter 19
The last time Mike Hannon was on the planet Woken, he was clinging to Adam Cain’s neck as he rode a cushion of air to the ground after jumping from a window three thousand feet up the side of a sheer rock cliff. It was one of the highlights of his life and the first introduction to Adam’s artificial telepathy device—his ATD. The fact that the device had been out of Adam’s side only minutes before the jump made it more a leap of faith than anything else. But it beat sticking around while Wolfgang Stimmel killed him on the spot.
Fortunately, Mike and his team of high-tech bank robbers weren’t heading for the shithole city of Essen. Instead, they were heading for the slightly less shitty town of Antunes, the location of one of the nine Regional Depositories for the Expansion Credit System. Mike was sure the Juireans built the Depository there as a concession to some powerful politician. The city was a third the size of Essen, with most of the commerce built around the giant credit-processing facility. Also, the local spaceport was only a hint of the size of Essen’s, which would make disguising three bulbous cargo ships that much harder. And having the three of them parked in orbit directly above the facility could be a dead giveaway, as well, if the Juireans considered the Depository a target.
Only fifteen days had passed since t
he debacle on Navarus, and sooner than he and his Gracilian partners would have staged a normal heist. And with their main ship sitting in ruins at the Kanac Spaceport, would the maneheads be expecting Mike’s team to recover so quickly?
It didn’t matter even if they did. Vodenik and Kovach were in a panic for this op, with the mysterious, Scottish-accented Human’s deadline for delivering the purchase money only four days away. For them, there was no other reason for the thefts than to get the money to buy the DMCs. That wasn’t the case for Mike Hannon. He just wanted to be free of the specter of the Juireans catching up to him for the Quanin assassination. Nothing else mattered. Unfortunately, only money would solve his problem—a whole lot of money.
Vodenik and Kovach told Mike about a small group of Gracilian scientists hiding on the planet Dracendor, the remnants of the team from the Aris Technician base. He recruited eight of them to come aboard as the crew for the other two starships in his tiny fleet. Since they were not on Gracilia, they were able to make their way to a rendezvous spot where a hasty training session on how to operate the reassembly equipment was conducted. Mike’s partners trusted the aliens, and it was a quick fix for his staffing problem.
If Mike had planned better, he wouldn’t have purchased three identical cargo ships as his backups. It looked a little conspicuous. With a galaxy with tens of thousands of starship manufacturers, having three of the same make in one location was odd. But he’d changed out the transponder codes, so only a physical scan would reveal the truth. And now they were spaced about a thousand miles apart in a geosynchronous orbit above Antunes.
Vodenik and Kovach slaved the dual generators in each ship to their control console, leaving the crews with nothing to do but steer the vessels and keep the power flowing. However, once the grabs were made, computers aboard each ship would have their individual data packs to unload, reassembling what was estimated to be a billion-and-a-half in Juirean credits in total. Added to what the Gracilians already had, it would be enough to close the deal on the DMCs.
Mike spent the last two days in the city, depositing several thousand black one-thousand-credit chips in various local businesses and at the two Expansion banks in town. One couldn’t simply deposit the credits at the Regional Depository. They had to come from the banks. However, spending money in the neighborhood sped up the process.
For their part, the alien scientists spent most of their time over the past fifteen days modifying the chips. Just one chip wouldn’t work. They needed hundreds to guarantee that at least a few would be cycled to the Depository.
The Regional Depositories were different than the banks. Rather than vaults buried far underground, the credits were stored in bunkers within the sprawling complex and at ground level. The facility was protected against theft by the presence of a thousand Juirean Guards and a complement of other species specifically-trained by the maneheads. Also, the separate vaults held quantities of individual denomination credits, rather than a variety. The thousand-credit chips were in rooms with only other thousand-credit chips.
Because of this, the team anticipated excavating more mass than their prior heists. There was no elaborate delivery and storage apparatus in the vaults—just stacks and stacks of credits. A grab would be a near-solid sphere of nothing but money.
They had three sets of generators, one aboard each ship, allowing for the targeting of three vaults. The location of the chambers was unknown, but the anchors would show the way. And if several of the modified chips made it into a vault, that was okay, too. They only needed to focus on one.
Kovach estimated that because of the increased mass in the grabs, each reassembly would take about fifty minutes. That was fine; they could do that on the fly. The problem: After Navarus, they couldn’t land in port and wait until things calmed down. They would have to bolt away right after the job, setting off alarms across the Kidis. Elaborate evasive tactics would have to be used to shake off any pursuit. But since they didn’t use stolen chips to modify as anchors, there was a chance the Juireans wouldn’t be waiting for them.
Mike grinned, thinking how the team had laundered stolen chips through transactions on a couple of Dead Worlds before heading to Woken. Then at Antunes, Mike was tasked with spreading these clean credits around, hidden within dozens of elaborate purchases. Mike made multiple trips back to the flagship with his treasures. It seemed like a waste simply to throw the items away. Before this, Mike hadn’t liked to shop—at least he didn’t until he had around a million credits just to blow on expensive crap. It became fun, and hopefully, a preview of his life after the robberies came to an end.
So, this is what it’s like to live like a king, he thought. Cool. I could get used to this.
Chapter 20
Monty and Tidus sat in an open-air café with a view of the front of the Regional Depository. The building was one of the largest they’d ever seen, even rivaling those on the Kacoran Plain on Juir. Although they knew there would be no physical assault on the building, they were there to get a feel for the target. Overlord Andon was feeding them updates, so they would be the first to know if anything happened. But as with all the prior robberies, it was the timing that was the question. And although no stolen credits had been detected, the location made sense. It was getting harder for Hannon to make his hits, so logic dictated he would do fewer, but larger. And in this part of the galaxy, none was larger than the Depository. It was also the closest to the Dead Zone and the only Depository in the Kidis Frontier.
“I wonder how Summer is doing?” Monty said out of thin air. Tidus shrugged, tolerating the Human’s obsession with the condition of his offspring. Juireans didn’t have the same parental bond to their progeny, simply because they didn’t know who they were. For a time after the Kracori devastated the Alliance Cluster, his people tried returning to traditional mating pairs for procreation after the breeding farms on Salin were destroyed. Fortunately, that experiment didn’t last long. Tidus laughed at his internal thought. If it had, he held serious doubts whether or not the Juirean race would have survived. Males and females were not designed for such close interaction. It was a bloodbath until the breeding farms were reestablished. And now that the Juireans were back in control of the Expansion, all was as it should be.
But for the Humans, it was different. They actually care for their offspring—and their mates.
“It has been fifteen days since the procedure,” he said. “The extraction should happen soon.”
“That’s what they say, but I haven’t got an answer whether Summer’s responding to the transfer.”
“I’m sure she has,” Tidus said. “It is only a question as to whether the mutation will be enough.”
A comm unit chimed on the table. Monty answered it.
“How about letting us rotate down?” Adam Cain asked. He and Riyad were in the Juirean Class-3 in orbit, the ship on which Tidus and Monty were hitching a ride. “We might like to see the sights of Antunes, too. Nothing much going on here. We’re monitoring incoming ships, nothing out of the ordinary yet. This may be a bust.”
“You have Enforcer units covering the space above all the other Credit Banks in the Kidis,” Monty said. “But this one is the ripest target, perfect for the bigwigs to watch. But if you want to waste your time on the surface, be my guess. Tidus and I will be up in a few minutes.”
“Hurry up,” Adam said, grinning widely on the screen. “The travel site says there’s an excellent open-air café right outside the Depository. Supposed to have the best creamed Poash this side of Navarus.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I can assure you, this place isn’t anything like the brochures say. It’s a real dump. We’re leaving now. Don’t leave until we get there.”
Vodenik was at the controls, scanning the surface below for the hundreds of tiny contact points on his screen. He had an overlay of the Depository, showing where the signals were in relation to the building. The team had been maintaining their position in orbit for two days, waiting for the cre
dit chips to make their way into the building. So far, a few made it inside. Unfortunately, they were in one vault. That wouldn’t do. The thieves needed to saturate the system with the marked credit chips, guaranteeing that they would be distributed to other vaults throughout the complex. This latest scan was promising. He called Kovach over to his station.
“Two are tagged,” he said to his associate. “There is another in transit.”
“Only one?”
“Yes, but it will be enough if it is placed in a third vault. It may be time to warm up the generators. We do not want to wait long after the anchors are in place. We need to consider transit time should our efforts be successful.”
“Would the Human have placed the rendezvous location several days away knowing our target? That would defeat his insistence on maintaining his deadline.”
“He may not have a choice. He may not be able to travel. It is best that we get the credits and then contact him. We will worry about the transit time then.”
“You are correct. Now, let us prepare. All three sets of beams must be pre-aligned and fired simultaneously.”
Mike noticed the intensity of the Gracilians and walked over to the station.
“News?”
“The anchors are nearly in place. We are preparing. Are the others fully briefed? We must all meet after the reassembly to make the credit transfer to our vessel. We cannot afford any delays or mishaps.”
Mike smirked. “Hey, these are the Gracilians you recommended. If you couldn’t trust them, you should have let me know.”
“We trust them; however, watching half-a-billion in Juirean credits materialize before one’s eyes can be tempting.”
“And you can’t transfer the data from their computers to yours?”
“There would be data degradation. And then our computer could not hold that much data.”