by D. M. Pruden
“I suppose trust has to begin somewhere, doesn’t it Melanie?”
I took his offered hand. “It definitely does, Erik.”
I knew that Dunn intended to screw me. I just needed to find a way to double-cross him first and stay alive in the process.
Chapter 13
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
I didn’t expect Schmaltz to be happy about what I told him, but he remained apoplectic.
“Schmaltzy, Dunn bent me over a rail. I needed to do something to level the playing field.”
“And threatening a trained assassin is your idea of doing that? You’ll be lucky if you ever step off this ship when this is over.”
“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, but I have a plan.”
“Well, it better be good or we’ll both be dead.”
“What makes you think you’re in any danger?”
“You said he threatened your family and friends.”
I raised one eyebrow at him. “Who said we’re friends?”
His jaw moved, but nothing came out. I grinned at him. He scowled back at me.
“You’re an asshole, Destin.”
“Yes, I am,” I said while laughing. He eventually joined me.
“You’re right. Nobody can know about us. I hate to say this, but we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“Yeah, I take your point. Okay, this is my last visit to the med bay unless I really injure myself. Don’t want anybody to think anything is going on between us.”
“You make it sound like we’re screwing.”
He blushed.
“In all seriousness, Schmaltz, we can’t completely cut off communications. A lot is going on here that we don’t understand and I’m not ready to go alone against Dunn or Garrick.”
“So what’s your idea?”
“Six hours before we arrive at Mercury, I’m going to develop some diagnostic issues with the containment chamber that you’ll need to help me address. It will give us a chance to compare what we’ve learned and make a plan before things get busy.”
“I’ve got to go before Bogdan starts to think we ARE screwing.”
I handed him a bottle.
“What’s this?”
“Antibiotics for your infected hand. Make sure you take them so they show up in your system.”
He accepted the vial and left. I dutifully noted the visit and the prescription in the medical log. I was glad to confide in him though my selfishness disturbed me. I’d placed him in serious danger if Dunn got even a hint that we were more than shipmates who’d shared a kindergarten class together. In a way, it would be simpler to dismiss if we were screwing, given my history. Schmaltz could become just another customer as far as Dunn thought. But I didn’t want to do anything of the kind to him or his wife. I valued his friendship too much.
It would probably help matters if I spent some time with other members of the crew. Since the launch, I had mostly kept to myself. I didn’t want to endanger anyone else, but I needed somebody to take some attention off Schmaltz, and nobody deserved to serve that role more than Hodgson.
♢♢♢
I found Dylan Hodgson in Cargo Bay 1, going through some kind of martial arts exercise. His shirt was off, revealing several old scars across his back. His muscular torso glistened with sweat. This chef saw action at some point in his career. He completed his kata and addressed me without turning.
“Anything I can do for you, Doctor?”
“You haven’t been hanging around my door for a few days. I began to worry.”
He chuckled and reached for his towel.
“Afraid I lost interest?”
“Something like that. I’m starting to suspect your attention to me wasn’t your idea.”
He gave me a wry smile as he leaned past me and retrieved his shirt. The musky scent of his perspiration sent a shiver up my back that I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“The captain ordered me to stay with you to keep you out of trouble. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to trust you.”
“Hmm. Imagine that. Not trusting a ship full of...people with colourful pasts.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I suspect you do, Mister Hodgson. There seems to be more to you than muscle and culinary skills.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. I’m simply a retired soldier trying to supplement a meagre military pension.”
“Indeed.”
An awkward silence followed.
“Anyway, I came by to apologize for my rude behaviour towards you.”
He accepted my offered hand and we shook.
“All right, Doctor. I accept your apology though it isn’t necessary.”
“So you were hitting on me?”
He blushed.
“Well, soldier, you need to understand that I like men who finish what they start.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I gave him my best vamp smile and walked out of the cargo bay. With luck, any potential heat would soon be off Schmaltz.
♢♢♢
My CI sent me a wake-up signal far sooner than I wanted, but it was ten hours to our arrival at Mercury and I had a full schedule. I surveyed the sleeping face of Dylan Hodgson. Unshaven and drooling on my pillow, he had been much more dashing the previous evening.
I almost gave up waiting for him to show up at my quarters and was starting to think my seduction skills had seriously slipped when the buzzer sounded. Standing at my door was the freshly showered figure of Hodgson, complete with a bootleg bottle of wine stolen from Dunn’s personal stash. His romantic gesture, as sweet as it was, proved unnecessary.
I looked past his gently snoring form at the unopened bottle still on the floor by the door. I thought it might be a good vintage, and I could certainly have used a good drink to stiffen my resolve for what lay ahead.
I considered what I was doing to Hodgson, and felt a small pang of regret. Maybe it was my underdeveloped conscience waking up. Under other circumstances, I could grow fond of him. He was a decent lover, even if he was an annoying ass. He didn’t deserve to be set up like this, but I had to take the spotlight off my friend Schmaltz. Hodgson was the lucky candidate for that position. At least, he got laid.
“Wake up, sleepy head.” I nudged him in the ribs. He groaned and rolled over. As good as the prospect of cuddling in bed for the next few hours sounded, I needed him gone, so I booted him out of the bed. He fell, startled, to the floor, pulling all the covers with him.
“What are you doing?”
“Party’s over, soldier boy. We have a big day ahead.”
He got up and stumbled around to gather his scattered clothing.
“The night didn’t last long enough, Mel.”
“Well, if you’d have shown up a bit earlier...”
“Aw, c’mon. I couldn’t decide if you were serious or yanking my chain.”
“You’re a coward. No wonder you’re a chef.”
I instantly regretted the cutting remark. He frowned while he put on his pants. He reached into his pockets and pulled them inside out, empty.
“Sorry, I left my wallet in my other uniform.”
I was surprised by how much that hurt, but I deserved it after my thoughtless words. It was the second time he’d alluded to knowing about my past.
“Does everyone on this ship know?”
He shrugged, clearly embarrassed by his own comment.
“Look, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
I put my arms around his neck and drew him in for a deep kiss. His large hands ran down my back and cupped my ass.
“Make sure you come back for your follow-up examination soldier?”
“If the swelling continues, I’ll be sure to come back.” He winked, walked to the door and picked up the discarded wine bottle. He placed it on the table, blew me a kiss and left me naked in the centre of my cabin, feeling very exposed.
Chapter 14
The two
unmarked spacecraft met at predetermined coordinates in the quiet expanse between Terra and Mars. Their anonymity was harshly shed when each illuminated the other in bright light.
The smaller of them was of a sleek, contemporary design, its smooth silver exterior as much a work of art as of functionality for atmospheric flight.
The larger vessel was more modular and had the look of long and varied use. Its repainted surface showed the wear of micro-meteors and long exposure to the silent, harsh environment of interplanetary space.
Out here in the deep blackness, where no unwelcome eyes witnessed, they prepared for an intimate coupling. The ugly ship extended it's docking bridge like a proboscis towards its companion. The contrasting sensual curves of the small yacht made the maneuver appear clumsy, like the uncertain advances of an awkward teenaged boy.
It took Felix Altius months of coordination and intricate negotiation to arrange everything. Inferred obligations and overt assurances had been exchanged and agreed upon, and now, at long last, the event would take place. Despite his meticulous preparations for the encounter, he was surprised to find himself anxious now that his efforts came to fruition.
If there existed even the slightest likelihood of treachery or danger to the interests of his Dominus, he was prepared to cancel the rendezvous and begin another plan. Yet the anxiety remained; stubbornly gnawed at him; distracted him. If he was going to abort he needed to make that decision now, before the airlocks equalized. Once the final phase began, there would be no going back.
The other party risked more than Regis Mundi. The Martian politicos would not approve of this encounter, so those about to cross the docking tube operated unsanctioned and exposed. Felix was as much responsible for their well being as his master’s. Perhaps, he thought, that is why he felt anxious. Mundi’s world he controlled. The Martians presented too many variables for all to be considered confidently.
Left to him this meeting would never occur. Mundi wanted it more than anything he ever coveted before and it was Felix’s duty to fulfill those desires.
His milky blue eyes scanned the readouts before him. Satisfied everything was in order, he inhaled deeply and slowly let the exhalation pull all the visualized doubts from his mind. After a curt nod to the yacht’s captain to open the airlock, he abruptly left the bridge and strode to meet his guests.
He arrived at the access port and looked down the empty, brightly lit tunnel. The distinctive, dusty odour of Mars floated on the newly mingling air currents. Felix did not like the smell of the red planet. He visited there, once, when all this began. It reminded him of something unfinished and filled him with unfamiliar emotions. His old mentor once described them as primal promptings related to inadequacy and unfulfilled dreams. Strange how the odours of a partially terraformed world elicited such feelings in him, given his origins.
Three men and a woman made their way cautiously down the docking tunnel, thin, from malnourishment or genetic selection he did not know. They hesitated as they adjusted to the subtle difference between the gravitational fields of the two ships. On his order the artificial gravity aboard the yacht was purposefully maintained at Terran normal. It was crucial to keep them off balance both physically and psychologically during these final negotiations. It was why he insisted they come to him, a particularly niggling sticking point in the arrangements. Had he agreed to confer on their ship, they would have hoped for the same advantage. His synthetic body was more adaptable and the change in gravity would not have affected him. The negotiation tactic would have been ineffective, and therefore, a waste. Like Mundi, he detested missing any leverage which could be exploited.
He graciously ushered his anonymous guests to a comfortably appointed lounge and, to their anticipated surprise, offered them seating in comfortable, overstuffed lounging couches they could only recline on. While making them feel pampered, he wanted them to avoid assuming any kind of aggressive seated posture.
He did not attempt to ply them with alcohol; too obvious and clumsy a tactic. Instead, he tempted his guests with a wide assortment of exotic delicacies. The table offered Turkish delights direct from old Istanbul, assorted sweetmeats from an ancient roman recipe and an exhaustive selection of fruits that the Martians never saw on their spartan world. The sweet and savoury treats further tempered any resistance they might hold to his negotiating position. The room was subtly filled with the scent of flowers and fresh grass; an olfactory reminder of what they wished Mars to become.
The senior member of the delegation spoke first.
“Maestro Altius,” he began with the martian formal address, “we appreciate you meeting with us on behalf of your Dominus. We are all anxious for these negotiations to conclude successfully, so I will be brief.”
So that is how it shall be, is it? “But of course, Maestro Alpha.” He used the agreed upon code name.
“It is unprecedented to allow off-worlders, such as yourselves, access to the level of economic influence you seek. It will be impossible for us to persuade the governing council to grant you the charter you desire. Perhaps if you contented yourself with a series of corporate licenses to open various business franchises, over time your entitlement might grow with continued residency? In a few generations, after the completion of the Effort, the successors of your Master, as citizens, would be in a better position to ask for such a charter.”
“And, naturally, Mars would benefit from several decades worth of taxes and tariffs from these businesses,” said Felix.
“Taxation provides for the greater good. Your business enterprises would contribute to the Effort of which you would also become a beneficiary.”
Felix directed his attention to the platter of food between them and selected an especially succulent orange. He peeled it and a tart aroma filled the room.
“And how much time do you project will be required for your terraforming effort to yield meaningful results?” He popped a segment of the fruit into his mouth.
“Our current models estimate a breathable atmosphere will be in place in seven generations.”
Felix wiped his fingers with a napkin. “Unfortunately, my Dominus wishes to establish a more influential foothold on Mars within his lifetime.” He gracefully swung himself from a reclining position and sat upright on his couch.
“Let me be brief, Maestro. We are well aware that your projections are unrealistic. All your secret studies agree it is going to take three millennia before living conditions can be established with your current efforts.”
Alpha sputtered and clumsily fought the higher gravity to match Felix’s seated position.
Felix pressed on with his advantage. “Additionally, your resources to perform the terraforming and continue to provide for your citizens are limited. In short, you cannot build sufficient habitat for a growing population. Your taxable base will be capped within one or two more generations. After that, genetic diversity becomes a problem. Three thousand years is a very long time. The entire rationale of your terraforming effort will need to be reconsidered in eighty years. Mars will become another Luna. That differs substantially from the dream of the lush Eden you have sold to your populace.”
He realized he enjoyed the looks of shock and outrage on the faces of the delegates as they all now struggled to sit upright. They all spoke simultaneously. Felix held up two placating hands and regained control of the discussion.
“Of course, this conjecture is strictly confidential between us. We would never consider revealing our projections to anyone.”
After they calmed down enough to listen, he continued, “It is clear that the single largest threat to the achievement of your Effort is Terra, is it not?”
He now owned their complete attention and one, by one, they each perched awkwardly on the ends of their lounge chairs.
“If not for the Terran trade embargo on your world, you would have far greater access to resources from the entire solar system. As it stands now, you are confined to what you can mine and manufacture on Mars. There are
a few black market operators within the asteroid belt who are willing to defy Terra but the cost is proving prohibitive for you. Without firing a single missile, they have defeated you and killed your dreams. With some planning, you may be able to avoid the costly kind of war that Luna fought to retain a semblance of its independence, but Earth has learned from that conflict and I doubt such an action would yield comparable results for you.”
“We are developing the means to challenge Terra. We can end the embargo and fulfill the Effort.” The stature of the slight woman who spoke belied her martial tone.
“We are aware the Terrans stole your bio-weapon.” Felix’s words sucked all the air from the room.
“I would not be distressing you, my friends if I could not help you.”
“What are you proposing?”
“We know where the virus is. We are recovering it as we speak. Once in our possession, we will simply need to make arrangements with an appropriate party. Whomever that buyer is, be it Mars or...” He let the sentence hang, unfinished.
As expected, Alpha took the bait. “Under such circumstances, I am confident the governing council would see the wisdom of granting you the trade charter you seek.”
Felix smiled amicably and stood, extending his hands towards the delegation.
“Who is hungry? Our chef has prepared a marvellous repast of roast lamb, beef and chicken with some very tasty vegetables.”
He thought he heard their stomachs growl as he lead them to the dining room.
Chapter 15
I took my seat on the bridge beside Schmaltz.
“Is everything in order, Doctor?” asked Garrick.
“Yes, Captain. Mister Schmaltz replaced the faulty backup battery and all the systems are fully operational again.”
“They had better be.”
One hour from entering orbit, the planet now loomed large on the monitor at the front. Schmaltz had nothing to tell me, any communication from the bridge he had received being purely routine. That was good news, but I was more concerned Dunn and Garrick had remained tight-lipped as to the nature of the virus, despite my multiple attempts at some clarification. Dunn evaded almost all of my technical questions and only gave me the most rudimentary of files on the pathogen. What I’d read disturbed me, both by what was contained in the file and what was missing. Basically, all I learned was how contagious and deadly the bug was; nothing I hadn’t already surmised. At least, I was provided a bio-trace profile to program into the medical scanner. Theoretically, it would tell me when I encountered any of the bugs.