Void Contract (Gigaparsec Book 1)

by Scott Rhine

  Chapter 19 – Customs

  As The Inner Eye approached the station orbiting Eden, Max found Jeeves again. He asked Reuben to move into his room with a sleeping bag. “That way my stateroom will become your cell when I leave, and you can keep watch over the mimic for me.”

  Together, the two men established a new training routine.

  By docking day, Isolchar had vanished from the cargo bay. The captain had Max thaw his men from the cold sleep. They trusted his medical judgment implicitly and expressed gratitude, even as the thugs took Reuben hostage.

  Zrulkesh said, “You can begin the search on the planet while I oversee the sale of the cargo. Bortral will accompany you until I’m needed to identify my brother.” He nodded to the miner who had snapped Jubalasch, the copilot, like a tree branch. “We’re almost out of meal mammals. If you cross us or inform the authorities, your associate will have an interesting time in the jungle room.”

  Without Zrulkesh on the ship, the copilot would be in charge. If Bortral has an unfortunate accident, Jubalasch may be grateful enough to let me have Reuben. Either way, only one of them would be returning from the planet’s surface.

  While the governor’s party entered the orbital station through an expedited line, Max and the surly Saurian thug sat for hours in a dingy decontamination chamber, answering endless questions about where they had been in the last year and who they had come in contact with. Max answered yes to most of the red-flagged questions, requiring hours of additional questionnaires.

  At the customs desk, the well-groomed young man in a blue and gold uniform, stenciled with the name Ramakrishna, made sure to tell Bortral. “We enforce the visitation visas rigorously. Your ship is expected to take three weeks to refuel and take on cargo. Be sure to be aboard when it departs. We already have enough of your kind on planet, over a hundred more than we agreed to.”

  Max put out a hand to hold Bortral back. “Those are probably the Yellow Slash guards for the embassy and their families, the protectors of the Turtle embassy.”

  “Listen here, mister, they aren’t hunting in your back yard, killing your animals,” the customs clerk said. “You aren’t facing pressure from the conservationist faction every day.”

  Max raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon? Unlike you, I was born on Eden.”

  An older man in a similar uniform, with the same last name and the words Station Manager on his jacket, stepped out of the security office. He was balding and had a bit of a paunch from low-g and lack of exercise. “Actually, my nephew was born at Conception Bay Spaceport. If you would be so kind as to step in here alone, your friend can wait in the lobby.”

  Confused, Max entered the cramped interrogation room. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, sir. I’m merely puzzled as to how a non-aboriginal family gained permission to settle here.”

  The manager offered Max an uncomfortable, plastic chair. “There was a loophole for Indians in the Eden charter.” The manager’s side of the table had two padded chairs and a battered, silver thermos.

  “The charter meant North, Central, or South American, not people from the Indus Valley,” Max explained.

  Station Manager Ramakrishna smiled. “But that is not how it was written.”

  “You can’t enter the preserve unless you’re CU negative or sign a letter disavowing the use of technology.”

  “We don’t venture past the technology boundary markers around Conception. My father managed the Blue Giant fuel station for years.”

  Max had visited the place almost sixty years ago. “Rajesh finally married that girl at the information desk?”

  “Yes.” The manager’s demeanor softened. “You knew my father?”

  “Met him when I shipped out to the Union Navy.”

  “Our families manage the station and spaceport facilities.” The manager opened up his thermos. The scent of warm, mint tea with dangerous amounts of sugar filled the room.

  Max nodded. “Both have been poorly managed in the past. I can’t complain about the improvements I’ve seen so far. Did you fix the fifth hole on the golf course?”

  “Twenty years ago. I’m planning on handing this job off to my nephew when I retire. Would you care for tea?”

  “I couldn’t. You only have one cup.”

  “You are an old friend of the family who has served the Union for many years. I insist.” Mr. Ramakrishna poured tea into the lid and passed it to his guest. “Are you returning home for good?”

  “No. Everyone I knew is dead. I missed the funeral for Doc Moynihan, but I’ve met his replacement on the trip in.” Max decided to hedge a little. “The governor wants to throw a party and use me to curry favor with the tribes. Your family is invited too, of course.”

  “You’re the hero?” The manager leaned forward to shake his hand. “The Turtle Embassy is already asking for confirmation of the facts.”

  “I’ll be stopping there first with the courier pod. I have a few matters to handle before I look around my old stomping grounds.”

  “Of course. Anything we have is at your disposal.” Grimacing, the manager said, “Please don’t mention my nephew’s racism. He doesn’t understand how much we rely on the good will of the Turtles this far from civilization.”

  Max pressed the opening to gather information. “Who are these conservationists your nephew dislikes so much?”

  Ramakrishna lowered his voice. “A reactionary political movement. We’ve been seeing a lot of smugglers and poachers lately. The border towns are a bit like the Wild West. We’re doing what we can from our end, but we have limited resources and space is vast.”

  A woman in a form-fitting, red-and-white vacuum suit burst into the room. Her nametag read Mendez. The tool belt identified her as an engineer, but on small stations, people wore many hats. “We can’t gain access to his pod to inspect for contraband.”

  An immediate frown of disapproval dampened Ramakrishna’s face. “Roz, why are you interrupting?”

  Her hair had been cut short for a space helmet. She had a scar over one eyebrow and a chip on her shoulder. The master artisan patch on her shoulder would probably put her in the manager’s chair on any other station, but she wouldn’t stand a chance of advancement with the nepotism here. “Because everything about this guy stinks. He’s traveling with an enforcer and meets seven out of ten criteria for a smuggler. Hell, the last guy we arrested only met three.” In her indignation, her rapid-fire speech had a slight melodic quality around the vowels that indicated English wasn’t her first language. While this would normally enchant Max, her tone set off the same sort of warning bells that his mother triggered when she used his full name.

  “This man is an honored guest.”

  Her brow furrowed in a frown. “Has he already paid you off?”

  “Whoa!” Max stood. He liked the perceptive woman’s fire. He didn’t want to see her crucified because he actually was guilty of breaking laws and associating with criminals. “I’ll answer any question this dedicated young woman has.”

  At thirty, Roz didn’t appreciate the compliment. “Look, pretty boy, that charm of yours might have all the girls falling over you at the resorts you visit, but I know how to read a ship. Where is the rest of your crew?”

  Max smirked involuntarily. Most Human ships needed about a hundred workers. Even the more advanced Saurians would need thirty-five for a craft this size. The advanced Turtles were so paranoid, only one could ride on a ship at a time. “It’s Magi tech. Only requires three to run. The rest are stevedores.”

  “Bull,” Roz snapped. “That shuttle is a rattletrap piece of crap. No self-respecting Magi would keep something that unsafe.”

  Echo’s voice in his ear distracted Max. “I like her. As chief engineer, she may have pulled a Magi starship into dock for repair.”

  Another possible pilot. Max muted the channel in his ear to avoid two competing conversations. The link would beep if Echo had more to add. “The ship is salvage. A lot of the original components were damaged, and th
e Saurian captain is a cheap bastard. Ask any of the men.”

  That threw Roz. “But the ship’s registry—”

  “Is none of our concern, only those who come aboard our station. I’ve already searched this gentleman,” lied Ramakrishna. “He’s not carrying a can of SprayOn Solar Panels,” he said, referring to the competitor of ElectroSand and GeoNano power supplies.

  Max quoted the planet’s charter verbatim, chapter and verse. “No nanotechnology, polluting technology, or power weapons of any kind shall be allowed on the planet’s surface.”

  “What’s in the pod?” demanded Roz.

  With a shrug, Max said, “The manifest says medical supplies for your clinic, courtesy of the Turtles, but I don’t look inside when there’s a diplomatic seal.”

  “Well, you and your accomplice aren’t Turtles or their representatives, are you?” she asked.

  Max couldn’t claim affiliation without violating his oath of secrecy. “No. Perhaps if you ask the embassy?”

  Turning to her boss, Roz said, “That crate is over a hundred years old. The door has been opened several times since the last official seal. Anyone could have stolen and reused it, sir.”

  “We had an emergency on the leg from Vegas. I confess I had to borrow a few supplies to save the copilot’s life. Ask the captain or even the governor’s assistant.”

  “Nice try,” Roz said, catching him again. “They came from Jotunheim, but I bet you’d find someone to lie for you.”

  “You can’t keep making accusations like this,” warned the station master angrily.

  “It’s okay,” Max said, attempting to calm them both. “How about a deal? I let her search the pod if your station delivers it and me to the embassy.”

  “This could be a diplomatic incident,” Ramakrishna said.

  “It could also be a bomb meant for Ambassador Sanderjee,” she countered.

  Ramakrishna put the cap back on his thermos. “Let it be on your head.”

  Of the two, Roz was the one Max would want running his borders. He accompanied them to a holding area and typed the access code on the pod’s panel.

  Roz whipped open the door with enthusiasm. Her face fell when she saw the tumbled stacks of medical supplies and the stasis chamber. She unsealed a few boxes to confirm the mundane contents. Her scanners showed no trace of explosives. Desperate, she said, “What are these computers for?”

  “Navy surplus. Decommissioned after the war. I’m sure our clinic could even use units this old. Turtle tech lasts forever.”

  “And these duffle bags?” asked Roz, confused and almost out of steam.

  “The possessions of fallen Yellow Clan warriors that I’m returning to their next of kin.”

  “What do you have to say to the good doctor?” asked the station manager.

  “Doctor?” Her face went from defiant to defeated. Roz stared at the floor. “We’ll hook up a transport for your pod, sir. Sorry for your trouble.”

  Her supervisor was not satisfied. “The spaceport desalination units need servicing over the next few weeks. I want you to fly our returning hero down personally.” From her expression, both tasks were far beneath her rank. “The conservationists have been requesting better prefilters on the intakes so the local fauna isn’t killed. Take as long as you need.”

  The engineer clamped her jaw tightly. “Yes, sir.”

  “I need to stop off at the money changers.” Max’s side trip would give her time to get ready. He borrowed 400 local credits against his share of the ore and his sizeable bank balance. That was about all he would have to spare after paying off Echo’s debt.

  A quick check of the station’s data sphere showed that McCool was still his only likely option as an escape pilot. The man ran a tour and charter service out of the spaceport. He should just print cards that say “I run drugs.”

  Chapter 20 – Turtle Embassy

  Roz refused to say a word to Max until their final approach to Turtle Island over the ocean. The Saurian thug sat behind them. Max tried to make amends in English. “I would’ve done the same in your shoes. I’ll be sure to tell the embassy staff about your diligence.”

  She only glared in reply.

  Max persisted. “Look, I know the lack of CU makes it hard to tell, but I’m being sincere.”

  “Don’t mock my disability,” she snapped.

  “I meant my lack, miss,” he clarified. “I’m !Kung.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry about what happened to your tribe.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The poachers.” She paused. “You didn’t hear?”

  “I’ve been gone since AF 333.”

  She flipped a few switches and contacted the tower. Max provided the entry codes for embassy air space. When she had a free moment, Roz said, “Last year, poachers killed about twenty of your people with machine guns. They tried to protect an elephant.”

  He swallowed hard. With fewer than a thousand in his extended community, twenty was an entire village. He changed the subject. People born CU negative didn’t use words like disability. “How did you lose your connection to the collective?”

  She rubbed her forehead absently. “Head injury while clearing a combine. I’m brain blind. I thought here, of all places, that wouldn’t matter.”

  “Bravery always matters, Chief Engineer Mendez.”

  She needed her concentration to land the shuttle on the tightly controlled field, but she had a ghost of a smile on her lips. That meant she might be useful as an asset, certainly preferable to a burned-out, old drug mule.

  After the engines shut down, he said, “I know it’s an imposition, but I won’t be here long. Could I catch a ride back to the port with you?”

  “I guess. Sure.”

  Behind her back, Bortral made an obscene squeezing gesture.

  Max growled in his limited Saurian vocabulary. “Stay here.”

  ****

  Max located the captain of the guard, a task made easier by the fact that he led the squad of soldiers who approached the shuttle from the tiny, walled city. Max greeted the commander. “Any action out this far?” The next convocation wasn’t for a few more years.

  The Yellow Slash commander snorted. “The Andromeda galaxy has been creeping closer. The Turtles are working on a contingency plan for the crash.”

  “Sometimes caution is justified.” Max jerked his head toward the nearest door.

  The commander led him to a waiting room while the other stood guard beside the shuttle. “We may speak freely here, Medusa. I am Krannek.”

  With both hands, Max presented the holo cube to the commander. He pressed the button on the bottom and spoke the pass phrase, “In honor of Grachov and the other cosmonauts.”

  The holo changed from Gina to his final Saurian companion in Vegas.

  Krannek bowed. “You have restored our honor?”

  “It is done. This is the evidence. We captured and questioned the officer responsible for the atrocity.”

  “We will view this immediately. Tell Grachov to come join us.”

  “Our friend was killed defending me from the last target’s allies,” Max said. “He will be missed.”

  Krannek placed claws over his own heart.

  “The Saurian in the shuttle is a smuggler. I made a deal with Sageworthy to save the Black Ram descendant on our team. The report contains a copy of my will in case I don’t survive my promise.”

  The Saurian said, “We will accompany you on your quest as brothers.”

  “I would not weaken your ability to defend Sanderjee. My life is past. Hers is your future. Endure.”

  “When you return, we will hold the celebration for you all.” The guard clasped his shoulders like a brother.

  Max winced, feeling unworthy of the praise. “First, here is your pod. Forgive me, but I needed to sell the regeneration tanks to redeem a debt to the Blue Claws. I will repay you as soon as I am able.”

  The guard commander spit to the left. “My ears do not hear this i
nsult. You owe nothing. What can we do to show our appreciation?”

  “I’m searching for a fugitive accountant by the name of Vrilkesh who arrived here less than three years ago.” Max described his target’s appearance.

  Krannek seemed uncomfortable, distracted by voices in his earbud. “We will find him for you. While you wait, though, the Beloved One has asked to speak with you.”

  “Please don’t bother the survivor. I’m not worthy.” Max tried to back away, but the Saurian held him fast.

  The walls and the courtyard of the palace reminded Max of the Forbidden City in China. He approached the reflecting pool with trepidation. He had never met a Turtle in person before, only through intermediaries. They were far too cautious to risk attack or disease. Turtles generally favored heavier worlds because no one else wanted them and mass mattered less in the water. The Saurians halted twenty paces away but nudged Max to continue forward, an extreme honor.

  A large creature rose from the water, less like a reptile and more like a pangolin. Her feet resembled oar blades. The reddish body had segmented armor that folded neatly into a hunched figure. Her right arm and leg were decidedly larger, though surgery had repaired her facial structure. She climbed onto a hover chair and wrapped herself in a robe.

  Max wasn’t deceived by the apparent vulnerability. The amulet around her neck could instantly project a black sphere capable of defending her from any Human assault. With her stubby fingers, she made the sign of greeting in front of her chest, the symbol of an egg over the heart—a sign between equals.

  He knelt, echoing the gesture. “Your servants have eliminated the last of the Phib virus that killed your family, Beloved One.”

  Her brown eyes could have been a Human’s, if Humans grew to eight feet and had irises tinged with ruby jewel tones. She activated a lesser sphere, which he recognized as a sound baffle, allowing privacy. In a musical voice, Sanderjee asked, “Answer my questions, and you can keep all the tools we gave you in that pursuit.”

  Max had forgotten about the vest, gloves, and wrist unit, so integral they had become to his everyday life. “To see you flourish brings me such joy. You can ask me anything.”