by T. R. Harris
“Then you’re going to have to take the chance. We’re paying them enough as it is. They shouldn’t get greedy. Besides, we’re giving them the ships afterward, complete with teleporting beams. They can go independent after this if they want.”
“They have not been told of the anchor chips. Without them, the beams will not do them much good.”
“You bastard,” Mike said, grinning. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Kovach and I developed the technology. Let our friends figure out the last step on their own. Now prepare. Ten minutes to extraction.”
Chapter 21
Monty and Tidus lumbered onto the bridge, finding Adam and Riyad with their feet up on consoles while the rest of the bridge crew went about their duties. Enforcers crewed the warship, along with a rapid response team of twenty-five. Adam had no idea what they would do in the case of a theft, but just knowing he had a force to deploy was better than nothing.
“Second watch reporting for duty, sir?” Monty said, giving Adam a sloppy salute.
“Very well, Mr. Pitts. You have the con—”
“How long have these vessels been on station?” Tidus interrupted. He was at the weapon's scope, looking at a contact scan of nearby space.
Monty rushed over to him.
“There are three stationary contacts. Transponders vary with age; however, the engine outputs are identical. These are all of the same make.”
“Three in a row, and of varying ages, according to the transponders,” Monty summarized. “That’s strange. Did you see this, Adam?”
The other two Humans were at the station, leaning over to take a closer look. “That is odd,” Adam said. “We should put a marker on them, see where they go.”
“They are not going anywhere; that’s the issue. Residual energy signals show they have been in the same place for several hours, maybe days. And observe, the distance between each is precisely one thousand miles. It is not a chance grouping. It is deliberate spacing.”
“If what you say is true, then Hannon has added to his fleet,” Riyad pointed out. “In fifteen days? How could he have done that?”
“Contingency plans,” Monty said. “What’s wrong with the two of you? It’s worth a look, isn’t it?”
“If this is Mike, we don’t want to scare him off,” Adam said. “Let’s take a shuttle over. He’d notice a Class-3 approaching.”
“Then let’s go; I’ll drive,” said Monty.
“Power stabilized and anchors locked,” Kovach reported. “Ready for beam initiation.”
Vodenik didn’t hesitate. He pressed the button that would activate the beams in all three ships. The process would only take a couple of seconds. At the speed of the beams, it mattered not whether they were penetrating five hundred feet of bedrock or the shielding around a surface vault. With the anchors in place, target acquisition was guaranteed and near-instantaneous.
Moments later, confirmation was received. The data packs were delivered and now stored in the computers.
“There is a problem,” Vodenik announced.
Kovach leaned over as Mike rushed to the station.
“The quantum beams have not retracted completely.”
“The T-beams?” Mike asked. “Did they retract?” It was the teleportation beams that carried the digitized credits.
“They performed as expected. The transport occurred.”
“Then what’s the problem? The quantum beams are still active, so what?”
“It is an anomaly,” the scientist stated. “It should not be happening.”
“Perhaps it is a ghost reading,” Kovach offered. “A residual wave reflecting off the others. This is the first time we have activated three beams at the same time and in such proximity.”
“Yes, that could be it. But still, the indicators show them active—now, wait. I see why.”
Kovach leaned in closer to the screen and pointed. “The beams are interacting with each other. There is signal overlap.”
“What, wait,” Mike said, shaking his head. “The beams were sent out in three different directions. How could they interact?”
“It is a characteristic of quantum particles. Quanta can appear just about anywhere … and nowhere. The main beams were focused on the anchors. But stray particles detected other beams and reacted to them. Pairs combined at will, creating random entanglements.”
“Making the new signals ghosts of the originals,” Vodenik stated.
“Is this serious?” Mike asked.
The Gracilians relaxed. “I do not see how,” Vodenik said. “Eventually, the particles will lose energy and disappear, along with the signal.”
“Can it be traced back to us?”
“There is that possibility; however, no one should be tracking Q-beams. And even if they were, we will be gone. The beams will not follow us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“So, just a ghost, and who’s afraid of ghosts?” Mike said, placing his hands on the shoulders of the two Gracilians. “Nothing to worry about? Okay,” he looked to the open area off to his right, “now it’s time to start the reassembly. This should be exciting.”
“I’m getting some strange readings around those ships,” Adam said, referring to his ATD. Panur and Lila made his unit to detect a variety of signals, from traditional radio waves to dark energy. But this was different.
Riyad’s unit could read the signals as well, although his ATD was the basic economy model. “It’s fuzzy, and a hell of a lot wider than anything I’ve seen before. Is this what a quantum wave looks like?”
Adam shook his head. “I have no idea. But the one thing I know is that something’s going on. It’s as if space itself is energized. Wouldn’t we have noticed this before at the other robbery sites?”
It was Riyad’s turn to shake his head.
“It’s great that the two of you are having this philosophical discussion,” Monty said, “but does this get us any closer to catching Hannon?”
“From what you are saying, these would indeed be Hannon’s ships,” Tidus said. “And further, they have activated the—”
“Attention Adam Cain!” a voice boomed through the comm system. “This is Overlord Andon. “There is confirmation of activity at the Antunes Depository. I repeat, confirmation. Three separate locations within the facility.”
“That could explain the readings,” Adam said to Riyad. “Three grabs; a lot of beams.”
Adam flicked the commlink open. “Andon,” he said to the blue-haired Overlord. “We have eyes on three ships we believe to be those involved in the theft. Signals confirm what you’re saying.”
“Then stop them!”
Adam grimaced. “Unfortunately, we’re in an unarmed shuttle. I’ll call in the UN-678. Wait … the ships are powering up; they’re leaving, in different directions. We’ll lock onto one and pursue.”
“Three vessels? Then two will escape if not all three.”
“Relax, Andon. We’re on it.”
“Do not lose them.”
“That’s not part of the plan. Cain out.”
Chapter 22
Mike sat mesmerized as millions of Juirean credits materialized on the deck, beginning at the bottom and then slowly building up like a 3-D printer without the nozzle. This grab was different from the others, made up of partial shelving units and boxes of credits, and not much more. Periodically, when a shelf section was done reassembling, it would crash down on the boxes below, sometimes cascading over and spilling millions of loose credits onto the deck. That was expected. A large chunk of the vault had been stripped away, leaving no end supports for the shelves. It was always like this. Eventually, what was left on the floor was a disorganized pile of metal and composite plastic. Organization would come later when the counting began.
But fifty minutes is a long time to sit and essentially watch grass grow. After a while, Mike went to a console and linked with the other two ships in his small fleet. Cameras surveyed the ca
rgo holds, where near-identical piles of credits were slowly accumulating. Mike zoomed out to take in more of the rooms, watching as pairs of Gracilians sat transfixed, hypnotized by the process. The other two crew members on each ship piloted the vessels as they sped away from Woken on separate vectors.
Each ship was entering deep gravity-wells and then dumping out a few minutes later. They would then make radical course changes, speed along at sub-light for a while, and then reenter a well going in another direction. After five or six of these crazy and unpredictable moves, they would be impossible to follow. Even so, the freighters were inexorably working their way to a distant asteroid field where they would meet up and transfer the credits to Mike’s ship. The new members of the gang would be paid off, and the keys to the two other vessels handed over to them. They were then free to go.
Mike and his two Gracilian scientists would then quickly resume their decoy moves, this time to keep their former teammates from following.
The reassembly was complete two hours before the rendezvous. The ships linked together hull-against-hull and pass-thru portals opened. Mike came armed, cautious for the slightest indication that any of the new crew might have second thoughts about giving up the bulk of the take.
Out of the eight Gracilians, only one showed signs of nervousness. The alien species was known for their nasty habit of sweating a rather pungent form of perspiration. This particular individual was working overtime in that department.
Mike watched him carefully as the cargo was loaded aboard electric carts and transferred to the flagship. The alien kept moving behind loading boxes and fuel pods, watching the transfer but not participating as much as he should. When about half the pile was gone, he suddenly stepped into the open with an MK flash weapon in his hand.
Mike was expecting this, and as a Human, he didn’t have to rely on the targeting computer before taking a shot. Hell, for all he knew, neither did Gracilians. But Mike didn’t take the time to find out. An accurate level-1 bolt burned into the alien’s chest before he could bring his weapon to bear. The intensity of the bolt was overkill against a Gracilian, but Mike didn’t care. He shot the alien as much for effect as he did to stop him from keeping the cash. The others needed to know he was serious.
The encounter happened so unexpectedly that the small group of aliens was stunned and shocked by the killing. Some began to protest over what they saw as an unprovoked assassination. Then Mike walked over to the body and recovered the alien’s MK-17 from behind a loading crate.
“Is anyone else having ideas about changing the terms of our agreement?” Mike didn’t have to brandish his weapon for the message to be heard loud and clear.
The rest of the transfer went smoothly and in record time.
The remaining seven Gracilians made a million credits each for what was ten days of work. They also got possession of two fairly new Class-C cargo ships. Within minutes of Mike and the scientists buttoning up the pressure portals, the two other freighters bolted away in opposite directions.
Vodenik and Kovach ignored Mike’s antics; they were more concerned with getting an accurate count of the haul.
There were machines used for the high-speed counting of Juirean credits, and Mike secured ten of them for the task. Tables and crates were lined up, and then the trio began a frenetic session of money counting, sprinting between machines to keep them fed. The counted chips were then placed in final storage crates and moved to one side of the cargo hold.
The labor was long and intensive, and by the time they were done, all three collapsed into chairs, drenched in sweat and panting like racehorses.
Mike gawked at the stacked crates. There were forty-five of them for a total count of one billion, four hundred thirty million. Not quite as much as expected, but enough when counting the eight hundred million they had in another storage compartment. Two-point-two-three billion. And the seller wanted one and three-quarter billion. That left four hundred eighty million.
Mike was already entitled to seventy-five million of that. He was sure he’d get another third of the remainder, if not more. The Gracilians weren’t interested in the credits. All they wanted were the DMCs.
Even so, Kovach was doing calculations on a datapad. Even the truly-devoted might need a little seed money for their revolution.
“I will contact Graham to get the delivery location,” said Vodenik. Kovach showed him the datapad. Vodenik nodded but showed no other emotion.
A few minutes later, Mike felt the gravity drive engage, and the ship shot off for an unknown destination. Mike and Kovach went to the bridge.
“How long?” Kovach asked.
“Only seven hours.”
Mike had studied the star charts for the region near Woken. There weren’t a lot of habitable worlds within seven hours of the planet. They were headed for the planet Zafin.
Chapter 23
The Dead Zone is sixteen hundred light-years long but only four hundred wide. It covered the path that the Mad Aris Kracion took while irradiating worlds with no hesitation or compassion, killing trillions. He did it to make a point that resisting him was futile. As such, the Zone extended through a large swath of the Kidis Frontier, ending very close to the planet Woken. Zafin was the second to last world Kracion attacked, and therefore one of the last to be treated for radiation contamination by Maris-Kliss technicians. It was safe now, but that only went for the atmosphere. The soil was still a few points above minimum safe levels.
Once he had the Dark Matter Collectors, John Graham made a quick dash for the border of the Zone when Cain’s shuttle made it back to the Juirean Class-3. He had nothing in his small security fleet that could go against the warship in a desperate attempt to keep Cain from reporting what happened on the surface.
Then came the startling news that the leader of the Enforcers died in a fall from the shuttle. In a way, that was satisfying, but it didn’t change the situation. The shuttle crew would report his attack on the peacekeepers and the fact that they knew they were legit. His excuse of them being decoy units wouldn’t hold up.
And the word did go out, as every Enforcer ship in the area closed on Korash-Nor searching for Graham. Each of the ships he had in his mercenary fleet was registered with Navarus, so it wasn’t hard to identify the one he was in. Transponder trackers were set up, and every civilian and military craft in the Zone ordered to report any contact with his code. He knew some people changed out transponder codes like other people change their underwear, but he wasn’t one of them. He surveyed his small crew, and none of them knew how to do it, either.
Then an updated report came in relating how Adam Cain somehow survived the fall and made it through a freezing night on Korash-Nor to reach the Enforcer Garrison. The broadcasts were full of the news, going so far as to interview several of the Garrison personnel about their experiences with the Human. Another chapter in the legend of Adam Cain had been written.
What bothered Graham—and not mentioned in the broadcasts—was that Cain would know about the secret cargo being moved to the Garrison that day. The bloody natives had found his precious Dark Matter Collectors, and rather than use them for themselves, they decided to give them back to the mutants. Spies at the Garrison said the base commander didn’t know what was in the shipment, but they did report that he knew it was destined for the mutants. It wouldn’t take Cain long to figure out what Graham was carrying.
And hence the intensity of the search. Cain wasn’t just looking for the person who attacked his peacekeeper convoy. He was looking for the DMCs.
Graham could make a run for it, but he had little money and a ship that was figuratively on every wanted poster in the Zone. Also, the two main buyers for the devices were in the Kidis, the Gradis Cartel, and the Gracilian scientists who were part of Stimmel’s inner circle. He laughed thinking of the Gracilians.
He contacted them first, knowing they would be interested in buying the devices. The aliens had been close to Stimmel, taking trips with him and advising on the us
e of the dark matter. Graham also knew Stimmel was rich beyond compare. That’s what one got for being a Regional Director of MK.
Just off the cuff, Graham threw out the ridiculous amount of one-and-a-half-billion, never imagining the Gracilians would accept it. They didn’t, at first. They bloviated and yelled, hemmed and hawed, telling him that it was an outrageous number. He waited patiently, expecting them to come back with something more reasonable. They never did. After a while, they calmed down and agreed.
Afterward, there was some discussion as to how they would acquire the money. That’s when he learned out about their teleportation scheme. Graham was impressed, if skeptical. But what the hell. If they could do it, then he’d be richer than he’d ever imagined.
But for insurance, he contacted the Gradis Cartel.
It was no secret the Cartel had been trying to acquire DMCs for years, not to use them, but rather to sell them, as Graham was doing. They made an, although quite a bit below the Gracilians’. They would give him eight hundred million, but in a combination of credits, a small fleet of starships and a fractional percentage in the Cartel’s take for a set number of years.
Graham didn’t know if he could trust the Cartel, but they seemed sincere. The cash and ships would make him fabulously wealthy, even if the percentage share never materialized.
He told them he would think about it, allowing the Gracilians time to accumulate their funds. The Cartel didn’t know about the Gracilian offer, so he was having trouble holding the Gradis at bay. But now Vodenik and Kovach were on the way, and not with one-point-five billion, but with one and three-quarter billion. Booya!
And with that much money, he would deal with the Cartel if he had to. He was heading back to Earth after this, with a fortune equivalent to over five billion dollars.
Take that, you fucking galaxy!