Cap took a deep breath. Would they?
Shig laced his fingers together. “One of the things we’ve learned to do here during the time before Turalon finally showed up is to take risks. For many of us, well, I’m not sure we’d fit in back in Solar System after what we’ve lived here. We’d probably be in trouble all the time. Life lived in the sterile control of the algorithms? Letting them determine what is best for us? The very idea is demeaning.”
“And they certainly won’t like our manner of dress,” Yvette added. “Seriously, Supervisor, we’re offering you a way out. A solution to the Donovan problem. Our people will go for the chance to own their own houses and businesses. Opportunity to trade as they will and make a profit? They’ll bet that against the odds that they’ll never see a ship from Earth again.”
“You’re telling me you can sell this?” Kalico asked skeptically.
“Damn straight!” Talina said.
“What’s straight? I don’t understand.”
A crooked smile bent Talina’s lips. “It’s an old figure of speech, Supervisor. It means of course we can sell it.”
Yvette then added, “What if we can sweeten the deal, make it even more profitable for you?”
“And that would be?”
Yvette gave Kalico a conspiratorial grin, reached into a pants pocket, and tossed what looked like a lime-sized chunk of frosted pink glass onto the desk.
Kalico picked the translucent stone up, held it up to the light. “What’s this?”
“An uncut diamond.” Yvette seemed to stifle a yawn. “Sure, they can manufacture something similar back in Solar System.” She reached back into her pocket, tossing a walnut-sized gold nugget after the diamond. “That they can’t manufacture.”
“Where did these come from?”
“An undisclosed location. See, here’s the thing: Goodies like that? They’re in no short supply. Prior to the first of Turalon’s shuttles landing, most of the gems and precious nuggets vanished from circulation. Too easy to confiscate, right? They are, however, staples of what you would call the underground economy here. They could be yours.”
Kalico had picked up the heavy gold nugget, juggling it as if to determine its weight and value.
“You’re leaving,” Yvette continued. “Abandoning all of the supplies and equipment that isn’t deemed absolutely necessary.”
“What if you didn’t have to write it off as a loss?” Shig asked amiably. “You agree to our deal, we’ll insist that our people purchase all of the supplies you’re leaving behind. Auction to the highest bidder if you’d prefer. Or we can just go around and collect gold, platinum, gems, and the like—you should see some of the emeralds—and dump them in a crate for transshipment. Your choice.”
Kalico stared fixedly at the diamond. “They’d give it all up?”
“Like we said.” Yvette gave a bored shrug. “There’s more where those came from. Here’s the thing: Currently they are contraband, property of The Corporation, and as such, will remain hidden. We call it plunder. With a stroke of your pen, plunder becomes legitimate wealth, and can be traded. Get the idea?”
“Have to figure a rough exchange rate.” Talina’s gaze remained fixed on Aguila. “A given number of SDRs per karat or ounce, pending the grade of a gem.”
Kalico took a deep breath. “Captain? Any thoughts?”
Maybe it was Talina’s almost arrogant confidence, or the fact that for some odd reason, he’d come to trust her. And—what the hell—it wasn’t like The Corporation was ever coming back.
“Supervisor, what have we got to lose? If these people can actually talk Donovanians into staying? With that extra cargo space, we’ve got a hell of a lot more profit to show if we make it home.”
Still Kalico hesitated—and well she might. It would be an unprecedented decision. The sort upon which her future might one day hang.
Yvette slipped a hand inside her quetzal-hide coat, withdrawing a sheaf of papers. “In hopes that you might be amenable, we’ve drawn up a preliminary agreement. As soon as we have a deal, we’ll make the announcement and start the celebration.”
Shig grinned slyly, “And Supervisor, it will be the sort of celebration you’ve never seen back on Earth or in one of the domes.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Kalico arched a skeptical eyebrow, a curiously amused smile on her lips as she took the papers and began to scan them.
Talina’s deadly expression sent a shiver down Cap’s back as she said, “At this stage of the game, nothing on Donovan should come as a surprise, Supervisor. And just between you and me? Take the deal. It beats the alternatives.”
And with that, Talina Perez rose, nodded, and barely limped as she strode from the room.
25
“Take the deal. It beats the alternatives?” Kalico asked as she and Cap sat at what they’d come to call their “end” of the bar. Marines occupied chairs in a loose circle around them, trying to look nonchalant.
“Was that a threat?” she wondered.
“Supervisor, I don’t think Talina Perez minces words. She’s been too deep in the shit for too long to bow to the finer graces of diplomatic language.”
“How far do you think she’d go?”
“We were going to stand her against a wall and shoot her, remember? That doesn’t exactly inspire loyalty, trust, and fond feelings.”
Which bothered him deep down. Too many things were bothering him. Like what kind of meaningless hell the rest of his life was going to be.
“Sounds like you admire her, Cap.”
“Can we go off the record, Supervisor?”
She laughed, actually sounding amused, and for once her eyes sparkled. “God, yes! I’m at the end of my wits, Max. What the fuck do I do? You and I both know that we can’t load everybody into Turalon and make it home. Just taking the ones we’re contractually obligated to transport is going to stretch life support to the last millimeter. And that’s not taking into consideration what the psychological effects another two years of cramped deprivation might precipitate among the transportees, let alone these wild-assed hooligan Donovanians.”
“Assuming we even make it back.” He gave words to the worry that consumed them all.
Her gaze seemed to clarify—and for the first time he could see the fear in her eyes. “That scares me more than you could know.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
She almost jerked. “You’ve seen? Have I let it show?”
“You’ve come across as a rock. Solid. Without a hint of hesitation.”
“Well, thank God for that.” Her eyes seemed to lose focus. “When I took this job, I knew the risks, but damn it, I really seriously figured we’d find those ships here. On this side. That every last one of them disappeared?” She exhaled in a half shudder.
“I know you’ve had Captain Abibi and her people working on it. Do they have any ideas?”
“Not a clue. The physicists aren’t even sure what happens when a ship inverts symmetry. Everything is in the hands of the computers. Qubit computation manipulates more data than the postulated number of atoms in the multiverse. Some call it the ‘mind of God.’ Then throw probability into the equation, and maybe it turns out that making it through—following the math—is nothing more than a random chance.”
She gave him a searching look. “You want to trust your life to that?”
“Sixteen out of twenty ships made it before Nemesis vanished. And of the four that didn’t, that was early in the game when the route was still being tested. Kleggan, Impala, Vixen, and Uhuru were mostly survey vessels. Small, with deep space crews.”
“You trying to reassure me?” Her lips quirked in a way that formed dimples at the sides of her mouth.
“Hell, I don’t know, Kalico. I’m torn myself. And it’s not just the Mekong.”
“How so?”
&nb
sp; “We still off the record?”
“God, yes.”
“Out there. Beyond the fence. You can feel it, can’t you? It’s like the planet calls to you. I mean, what’s out there? Things no human has ever seen. That wasn’t an act when Yvette tossed that diamond onto your desk. She meant it when she said that there was no shortage of wealth on Donovan.”
“We can manufacture any size diamond you want back home.”
“Oh, come on. You know the definition of perceived value. You get that big pink diamond faceted, hang it around your neck, and walk into a Board meeting? Everyone in that room is going to say, ‘Holy shit! She’s wearing a Donovan diamond.’”
She gave him a grunting nod. “If we take the triumvirate’s deal—and if it wasn’t just flapping lips—we’ll make one hell of a dent in the precious gem and metal markets.”
“No, we won’t.” He leveled his beer mug at her. “The algorithms will cause The Corporation to absorb the windfall and ration it out over time so as not to shock the market. Sure, the Board will read the report. You’ll get a nice asterisk in your professional file, maybe a couple of points toward promotion. And over the next ten years or so all those gems will dribble into the market.”
“Halfway pisses you off, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve been here too long, Supervisor. You’re starting to sound local.”
That brought another burst of laughter. She was almost allowing herself to be human. Then her gaze cooled again. “What’s the right choice, Max? I mean, shit, say we take their deal, sign the colony over, pack the ship full of wealth, and we actually do arrive alive. We unload a bloody fortune from Turalon’s holds, and I stumble into the Board and announce, ‘I just abandoned the colony, but before I did I signed every Corporate asset on that rock over to the colonists.’”
“You could say ‘Screw it’ and stay here as Supervisor. Send Turalon back loaded with treasure and anyone who wants to go home. Gamble the ship makes it, and that it’s enough wealth to entice the Board to send another ship. By then we’ve got even more gold and jewels and ceramic clay. Play it right, you’ve got your own empire here.”
He watched the fleeting thoughts behind her normally controlled face. Seeing her like this, he realized that she could actually be as attractive as her physical appearance implied. For a moment her expression of vulnerability hinted that there really was a human being in there.
“My God, you’re starting to sound local, too,” she countered. “But try this on: I’m pretty sure I can justify abandoning the colony.”
She gestured out toward the west. “You’re right. There’s a whole planet out there. I can walk into the Board and tell them, ‘Port Authority is a write-off. More trouble than it’s worth, so I signed it over. Ladies and gentlemen, the decision as to whether we go back to Donovan is in your hands. Evaluate the potential wealth against the costs and losses. If you do decide to go back, I am offering the following plan, which, if considered and adopted, will allow us to do this thing right.’”
“Assuming we survive the trip home.”
She took a deep breath, lifted her small glass of whiskey and downed a swallow. She made a face as the stuff burned down her throat. “What do you think the odds are, Max?”
“No idea. If we just so much as had a clue as to why those ships disappeared . . .”
“I’m going to take their deal.”
“You’re sure?”
“For one thing, it buys us time. For another, I’m hoping their boast wasn’t just wind, and they can indeed cut the number of people we have to transport. It will vastly increase our profits—especially if we charge not only for the supplies we’re leaving behind, but for their property as well. Which gives me cover with the Board: I didn’t just give Port Authority away; I sold it for whatever salvage I could. And finally, it changes our relationship with the locals. We’re no longer the big bad Corporation.” A pause. “And hell, once we’re gone, it’s theirs anyway.”
“Then why are you still looking so worried?”
“Because now—and this is way off the record, Max—I have to see if I can find the courage to ride up to Turalon and order her to space for home.”
“You as scared as I am?”
“As they say on Donovan, damn straight.” She couldn’t hide the terror that lurked behind her crystalline-blue eyes.
26
So, the deed was done. The Supervisor had agreed to recognize both deeds and titles.
Dan Wirth considered the sudden change in the community as he strolled down the avenue. The Donovanians were ecstatic. The mood in the town had changed in an instant. Like a switch being thrown, people had gone from circumspect and suspicious to outright friendly and open. Worry had given way to smiles, affable nods of the head, and genuine relief.
The new energy even extended to the somber and uncertain transportees, most of whom were still in a state of shock as they struggled to come to grips with the reality of Port Authority and their sudden reversals of fortune. That, Dan figured, wouldn’t last. After all, the Donovanians owned everything now. The transportees, they had nothing but shattered hopes and expectations.
Dan smiled at the remarkable change in his own situation. He’d come here knowing that Donovan was his end of the line. A place from which there was no escape. Better that than the rather grim alternatives he’d left behind in Solar System. Corporate law enforcement had been closing in on him after Cylie spilled her fucking guts.
If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the hot thrill he would have enjoyed as he cut her throat. Something about the blood jetting from her severed arteries, splashing hot, steaming, and sticky on his hands as the knife sliced through her neck.
He wondered if she understood just what a lucky cunt she was, let alone the lengths to which her betrayal had led him.
To date he had assumed the identity of three different men. Changing identities in the Corporate universe was illegal, expensive, complicated, and full of risk. The right people had to be paid to change or expunge records, and a small but highly sophisticated black market existed to serve people like him.
The first time he’d needed a new identity—at the age of seventeen—he’d stumbled into the perfect solution: a friend of his father’s in the office of records and personnel management wanted his young wife to disappear.
Dan had already killed a kid who’d screwed him on a deal to sell some stolen goods, so he thought he was prepared. Punishing someone was just a payback. Killing Asha Tan was different. Harder. He’d had to look into her eyes, hear her squealing behind the gag and, damnit, she’d been a pretty young woman. Twenty-six. With a killer body. He’d sobbed like a baby as he tied that plastic sack around her head, watched it puff and deflate as she sucked for breath on the inevitable path to suffocation.
After that, murder had never been hard. Unlike changing his identity in a universe where a person’s life was controlled, monitored, and orchestrated by The Corporation. Not impossible. Just expensive to buy off the right people. After his first new identity change, he’d needed a CRISPR-IV kit to change his DNA. After his second, he needed a CRISPR-VII kit to add just enough genes to fool the identi-scan.
After Cylie turned him in, he didn’t have time for a third. Instead Dan Wirth had crossed his path—and left him the perfect one-way ticket to a new life.
Boarding Turalon, he’d carefully handed over one of Dan Wirth’s pulled hairs. He’d watched as the follicle was inserted in the reader, and Dan’s DNA came up as a match. Thanks to his pedophilic father’s help, his photo had been inserted and Dan Wirth’s deleted in the Corporate OPM database.
And now he was here, walking the shitty streets of Port Authority. End of the line . . . and a dream come true the moment the Supervisor validated the deeds and titles. Call it a fucking miracle. These people owned their own property. To do with as they saw fit. Which meant that Dan Wirth had bee
n dropped into an environment—however small—that brimmed with opportunity.
No watchful Corporation hung like the sword of Damocles above his head. Here, a man of his skills was only hobbled by his own imagination and dreams.
And did he ever have dreams. But first he needed a lair, a base of operations. Someplace that gave him respectability.
He considered the central avenue he walked down. Both sides of the street were lined with buildings. Some were domes from the original construction of Port Authority, while others had been built out of native materials. Take the big warehouse there on the corner. That belonged to Thumbs Exman. And the location was perfect, just a block north of the tavern on the main thoroughfare and two blocks from the residential section.
Dan considered the building. Sturdy, the walls had been constructed of sandstone blocks. The roof was an arched affair, and looked to be in good shape.
In the front, a large garage door filled most of the wall, and a smaller door was cleverly set in the building’s corner. Walking down the length, windows in the rear indicated offices to either side of the back door. If a man wanted to start his own operation, Dan could think of no better location.
Returning to the front, he tried the door, found it open, and stepped inside the spacious room. The floor was duraplast, but high windows gave the room light. Walking to the back, the door to the hallway was open. Beyond it on the left were two rooms, on the right one large office.
Back in the main room, he imagined the tables, where he’d put the bar. And, yes, a cashier’s cage in the back next to the rear door to the hall. Perfect.
A melodious tone rose on the still air, and Dan stopped. Cocked his head. Listened. Another musical trilling, a harmonic song . . . no, call it a chiming, rose to join the first. Then a third added its melody to create a symphonic sound that was both alien and beautiful. Like no music Dan had ever heard.
What the hell?
He traced the sound to where a shaft of sunlight from one of the high windows glowed in an irregular square on the duraplast floor.
Outpost Page 16