Spectra Arise Trilogy

by Tammy Salyer

  He stands in front of me like a wall, his eyes scanning my face as I conclude with Vitruzzi and Brady’s proposal. “So these arms transporters are trying to help their friends and they’re serious about negotiating with us. They want to exchange a motherload of solar seeds for the disc. It’s a solid deal. I’ve seen the seeds and I know they have them.” The expression on his face makes me decide to leave out the part about them wanting to make this a joint operation.

  The room is quiet for a few seconds. Then slowly, he recites, “T’Kai, David, who’s in the Admin’s hands, this scientist Vilbrandt, and a group of non-cit smugglers…tell me, Aly, is there anyone in the fucking universe who doesn’t know about my plan?!”

  He leans over me, eyes red-rimmed, furious and wide. His mouth is inches from my face, spittle flecking his lips, his anger like a furnace on the brink of exploding, and for a moment I think he may actually try ripping my throat out with his teeth. I don’t budge from the table. Drawing in a long, controlled breath and forcing myself not to move, I refuse to let him see my fear.

  His nostrils flare once more, and then he straightens back up. His neck and face are flushed red, glowing the way vulnerable skin sitting too close to an open flame does, making the whites of his eyes stand out vividly. The muscles from his jaw to his neck, each almost as thick as my wrists, are flexed taut. I’ve seen him look this way before throwing men from the doorways of in-flight transporters. They died. I wonder if it’s my turn.

  Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly and asks casually, as if the conversation had never verged on murder, “Tell me more about Captain Vitruzzi and her crew.”

  Already his mind is working on an angle he can use to his benefit. The immediate threat appears to have diminished, but I well know that Rajcik can go ballistic without warning if I’m not careful. “Mostly ex-soldiers, legally released. Vitruzzi used to be an Admin doctor. There are about five regulars on her crew and they all seem reliable. From what I’ve seen, they’re not loyal to the Admin.”

  “They transport arms. How did they get that kind of clearance?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His next question is so unexpected, I’m not sure I hear him right. “Do you think we can trust them?”

  What’s he getting at? Rajcik trusts no one, not even me. “If you mean do I think they’re good for the exchange, yeah I do.”

  “Maybe we can use them.”

  He’s no longer looking at me, his thoughts probing the surface of some new plan. I’m not sure I’ll like what he’s thinking. “What do you mean?”

  “We need a way to get aboard the Fortress. Stealing an Admin ship will be too obvious and they won’t let unknown transporters anywhere near their perimeter. This Vitruzzi and her team could be just the diversion we need.”

  “You mean use them as bait? I don’t think that’s—” He focuses on me sharply. “I mean…what about this? We could make them partners—not for the payoff, just to get in and out of the station.” Suddenly no longer in control of my mouth, I barely believe what I’m saying. “They don’t even want a cut of the money, just the disc so that they can break in and rescue their friends. If David’s there, they’re all probably being held together. Their involvement could be a tremendous asset.”

  He frowns, looking almost as surprised at what I said as I am. “The plan does not change. This is my show. Don’t forget that.” Leaning close again, he emphasizes, “I’m not jeopardizing this mission for any man. Including David.”

  I hear a stupefied gasp and realize it came from me. “Are you insane? We can’t leave him there! They’ll kill him!” I’m standing now, face to face with him, both of my hands gripping the collar of his jacket.

  Grabbing my arms just above the elbows, he pulls them away with a quick jerk and shoves me back against the table. A shadow of impatient anger passes over his brow like the first ripple of a pending tsunami. “He knew the risks when he signed up for this job. So did you.”

  Bile begins to churn in my stomach. “You’re going to regret this you sonofabitch.” My voice is flat, icy, toneless. For the moment, I don’t care if he kills me.

  He squeezes my wrists crushingly tight, black eyes smoldering into mine. “Does this mean you want off the crew?”

  Cold hatred lodges in my throat, making me choke on the threats I want to hurl at him. Instead, I remain tense and silent, rage shaking me.

  He stands motionless for a moment, scrutinizing me with insidious attention. Then he drops my hands, and a quick dip of his chin indicates that he’s come to some kind of decision. “Maybe you need a little time to think it over. You know I’ve always liked you, Aly. Because you’re smart. Don’t do something that’s going to change my opinion.”

  He turns his back to leave before I break out of my paralysis. “There’s one thing you didn’t tell me, János.”

  He looks back over his shoulder.

  “Why did you bring MacCready back on the team?”

  “I can rely on him to do what’s necessary.”

  “I told you what happened last time. He put the operation at unnecessary risk. We could have lost the payoff. What makes you think he’s reliable now?”

  “Don’t worry. MacCready knows what his orders are.” His face is unreadable, but I can guess what those orders might be.

  * * *

  David. David’s in trouble and the only chance I had of helping him just threatened to sic his guard dog on me if I make a wrong move. David. How the fuck am I going to get to him?

  Maybe Rajcik isn’t my only option.

  Ten minutes go by and I don’t move from my seat on the table. What’s the use? I’m as familiar with this ship as I am with my own weapons. I should be, it’s been my home for the last six years. There’s no way to break through the door to this room, an empty berth for excess gear and smuggled goods. Not even a duct from the ventilation system links into it so there are no shafts I might be able to wriggle through. I’m in a prison that’s as secure as any in the system.

  My mind is like a flag in a hurricane, whipping and beating itself into a shredded frenzy. Something is very wrong here. It shouldn’t surprise me that Rajcik could care less about the jeopardy David is in, but something more has kindled a warning fire at the tips of my nerves. He acts as if he expected the two of us to be killed. As if we weren’t supposed to escape Obal 3 at all. But what reason would he have for wanting us dead? We’ve backed this mission completely since the day he told us about it.

  And there’s MacCready: unpredictable, psychotic, and almost guaranteed to increase the amount of bloodshed in a mission way beyond what’s necessary.

  When I left him for dead, we’d been following a Corps troop transport for about a week, the kind of job we’d done a hundred times. These ships always docked at some point to rotate personnel on and off remote duty. Our intel told us that this particular crew were tasked with guarding an Admin warehouse full of munitions.

  Once the squads had been switched and the troop ship dispatched, MacCready and I ambushed the new sentries. They were slow-witted and clumsy, not prepared for our little surprise, and we’d neutralized them within minutes. Unexpectedly, we also found a handful of citizens serving as supplemental staffing for the facility. Before we realized they had active DNA tags that allowed them to fire weapons, MacCready was winged by a small-caliber handgun. We were able to outmaneuver them, killing one before they surrendered, and he trussed them together while I collected the payload. Less than ten minutes had passed by the time we had everything on board our escape craft, and I’d climbed in to start the engine and check our satellite surveillance feed for company. I can still taste the metallic gush of adrenaline that filled my mouth at the sight of a short-range hovercraft full of soldiers speeding toward the warehouse.

  “MacCready, move your ass! Unfriendlies are on the way and they look like they know we’re here. Five minutes tops!”

  His voice came back via our helmet comlink, furious. “Sonofabitch. These cits go
t the word out.”

  Something was keeping him. When I stuck my head outside the EC’s cockpit to see what, he was approaching the citizens, pistol drawn. My voice felt as if it were trying to force itself through mountains of sawdust, but I tried to stop him. “MacCready! We don’t have time. Come on!”

  He’d ignored me and shot the first man point-blank in the face. I heard him mumbling as he turned to the next one, “Goddamn citizen fucks. Don’t know when to just shut the fuck up,” and raised his weapon to the victim’s head.

  The sickening shock at such needless carnage only held me immobile for a second, though the terror in their faces will be embedded in my mind forever. There was no time to deal with MacCready if I was going to get out of there before the Corps arrived, so I engaged the forward drive and started the EC toward the open warehouse door. Another shot echoed through the comlink and MacCready began shouting for me to stop. Instead, I overcharged the EC’s engine and slammed the thruster-control to full open. A superheated jet of fumes steamed from the exhaust port, instantly turning his running figure into a scorched scarecrow and propelling the EC through the exit like a bullet.

  I made it back to the Temptation, certain MacCready was dead and happy to have been the cause.

  Rajcik accepted the news calmly. He well knew the kind of sadistic man MacCready was, and my decision to leave him behind had kept us from losing both the EC and a pile of arms worth a sizable sum.

  Yet, here he is. The thought keeps ringing through my head like a funeral bell. I don’t care how he survived, and I’ll leave him for dead again or shoot him myself if he gives me a reason. What I do care about is the answer to one simple question: Is he back on the crew because Rajcik intends to replace me?

  There’s no other explanation. I don’t know exactly why Rajcik would decide to cut me loose, but I have to consider that a possibility. He’s using me, just like he wants to use Vitruzzi and her crew. Right now, I’m the link between the two, and to get what he wants, he’ll have to pretend he’s not planning to shake me off. As unreal as it seems, I might have been better off throwing in my lot with the settlers.

  But why? Why would Rajcik turn like this? Does it have something to do with David? What he’d said to me when he surrendered—Don’t let Rajcik out of your sight—what did he know? Is Rajcik planning to double cross us? He hates the Admin, and he loves selling weapons to people that could use them against the Admin, but he needs our help to do it. None of this makes sense.

  The room is small and stifling, the lack of airflow making me sweaty and lightheaded. It’s almost a relief when the door opens and he comes in. He’s back to ask the only question that matters. What will it be, Aly? The answer is easy: live today, fight tomorrow.

  “So are you with us?”

  I let the silence hang heavily for a minute, satisfying myself with a hint of disdain before answering. “What do you think, János? Of course I’m in. I’m kidding myself if I think David’s still alive. Let’s make some money.”

  His lips curl in that frightening half grin. “Excellent. You’ve just made yourself mission imperative again. Your gear is in the bunkroom. Get it and meet me in operations in twenty minutes.”

  TWELVE

  Most of the crew is assembled around a holographic 3D image of the Fortress hovering over a disc reader when I arrive on the operations deck. Looming silently in the doorway, I survey them before anyone notices me—Rajcik, Fuller Thompson, Liev Fedchenko, Valya Ortiz, and of course, Marcus MacCready. The final member, Ahsan Yadav, brushes in behind me and activates the door. As it slides closed, the noise draws their attention and they turn and look at me with suspicion and disinterest. No questions about what happened to David and me. No happiness to see me. But then, I’m not happy to see them either. This is just the way it is: we work as partners, not as friends. The only person I had cared about in this bunch was David. What’s the point of all those years on the take now?

  Rajcik speaks, staring fervently at the image of the Fortress. “Our only way in is through disguise and deception. The Temptation has to appear to be one of their regular supply ships.”

  Data readouts are displayed along the screens adjoining the disc reader. T’Kai, for all his treachery, definitely did his job. We have enough information here to practically rebuild the Fortress. Separate menus allow the structural design to be overlaid with the security system grid, which includes pass codes, system schematics, and personnel routines—full disclosure of every operational detail. Combing through the data makes it clear that it would be impossible to infiltrate the space station, much less pirate stolen goods from it, without these plans. Even with the disc, the operation will be anything but easy.

  We pay close attention as Rajcik continues sketching out the plan. “We’ll cloak our heat signature and use legitimate transport authorization codes, but the dock controller’s attention has to be elsewhere. If anything ignites their suspicion or makes them look too closely, they’ll lock it down and we’ll never get in. Which is why we’re lucky to have Erikson back on board.” His sly stare rests on me, the pressure of it forcing me to acknowledge the plans he’d already made.

  The words stick like napalm in my throat, but I have no other choice than to play along. “During the mission on Obal 3, while David and I were drawing off the soldiers, he was arrested and I ended up getting nabbed by a group of settlers with intel on our operation. It’s a long story. The important point is, they also plan to infiltrate the Fortress and János wants to use them as…as bait to draw off the Admin.” I glance at him, making sure I’ve said what he wants to hear. He looks satisfied.

  Yadav, a swarthy smuggler with a thick mustache and the epicanthic eyes of a Mongol, asks grittily, “You been gone over a week, Erikson. Why should we trust you now? Maybe you’re trying to set us up.”

  Fedchenko and Thompson nod in agreement. Together with Yadav, the three of them form the dicey edges of a lethal triad. Bottom dwellers in the smuggling cesspool, they’d worked as a team throughout the system for several years as mercs, murderers, and guns-for-hire. Alternately picking and robbing their own marks, or hiring out to the kind of scum that has the money to pay someone else to do the dirty work, they’ve been frequent poster boys on the Admin most-wanted list. Rajcik hired them on for a job on Ohm Lumi a couple years back, and they’ve been on the crew since. Neither David nor I ever cared much for their methods or morals, but the crew’s successes have made it easier to ignore them. Rajcik doesn’t answer Yadav’s accusation, leaving it up to me to convince them, testing my commitment.

  Now, I have to lie, and lie well. I may or may not have convinced Rajcik that I’m not in Vitruzzi’s pocket, or that I’m willing to use her and her crew as a disposable cover for our robbery and extortion, but I better convince the rest of them. If I want to work the situation to my advantage, I can’t have five suspicious cutthroats scrutinizing every move I make. I don’t want to set up Vitruzzi’s crew to take the fall for us any more than I want to abandon the possibility of saving David. I’m not as detached from my own moral barometer as Rajcik and most of this group are, no matter what people may think. Unlike Rajcik, I’m not willing to sacrifice others, especially others who’ve already proven that they’re willing to help me if I ask them to. He couldn’t care less about David. Or me. So fuck him. The trick is making them believe I’m on their side, but when the chance comes, I’ll do whatever it takes to alter the plan to my own ends.

  So I follow my usual tactic. “I don’t give a shit if you trust me, Yadav. If saving your ass on Obal 3, all of your asses, doesn’t prove what I’ll do for this payoff, feel free to run the mission without me. And after you fuck it up and end up on some experimental slab with a probe up your ass, I’ll be relaxing on Obal 10 laughing about it.” It helps that I am truly furious. At Rajcik, at myself for being his pawn, at them for being too degenerate to care. At the whole fucked-up situation.

  No one speaks for a second that quickly turns into several.

&nbs
p; Ortiz breaks the silence. “Don’t be fools. Erikson is here because Rajcik trusts her. That’s enough.”

  Ortiz is a veteran on Rajcik’s crew. At one time enlisted in the Corps, she’d already been with Rajcik when David and I had come into the mix. I convey my thanks with a quick glance in her direction, but it’s hard to look at her too long. Ten years ago, she hadn’t made it off her patrol ship when it went down after being struck by orbiting debris, and pocked and mottled burn-flesh covers her face and extremities. Her cowardly shipmates evacuated like gun-toting ants from a burning anthill, failing to follow protocol and assist the injured. After the vessel hurtled into Spectra 4, its auto-controls managing to keep the ship from going into total freefall, a non-cit doctor known to Rajcik had found her alive and helped her recover, in a way. At her insistence, he’d removed her lifemarker, making her untraceable by the Corps. Rajcik had hired her for many of the same reasons he’d hired David and me. Radically scarred inside and out, she’s callous and remote, almost automaton, but still lethal and sharp. She speaks very little, but I suspect she backs me most of the time because of our shared link to the Corps, and shared hatred for it.

  Rajcik finally speaks up. “This isn’t up for discussion.” He kills Yadav’s accusation by ignoring it, letting me off the hook…for now. Fine with me. I’ve deflected enough bullshit today.

  “We’ve got the equipment to mask our signature. We’ll get the calls signs from a supply ship en route, which shouldn’t be difficult. I’ll have that information within a few days. For now, we sit tight. Aly and I have some arrangements to make. No one leave the ship until you hear from me.”