Glory Point (Gigaparsec Book 4)

by Scott Rhine

  Max analyzed the situation from a military point of view. “An ambush means they’ll blast this ship an instant before our hop. Their goal is to damage us so much Deep 6 won’t emerge on the other side. There’d be no physical evidence of foul play. With such an unstable prototype, no one would suspect.”

  “They may want to board us and kidnap me,” Kesh responded.

  “Why kidnap?” asked Max.

  “To control my finances.”

  Roz said, “Unless they’ve been hired by the Bankers to kill me. In that case, we don’t have an ansible to shout for help. Radio messages back to the planet could be jammed, and any evidence from the beacon could be eliminated.”

  Max agreed with his wife. “If it were me, I’d make the destruction look like the work of a solar flare. I don’t suppose we can hop out of the system early.”

  “Nope,” said Roz. “If they work for the Bankers, we don’t want to give them any hint of our true abilities. The ambush thing works both ways. Everybody thinks they’re already gone, so we wouldn’t get in trouble if their remains dropped into the sun.”

  When Echo spoke, all three conspirators jumped. “I expected this from Max. He was in the military, but Shiraz, shame on you for condoning violence.” She projected the image of a kimono-clad Human starlet from New Hawaii.

  Kesh demanded, “So, Miss Peace and Understanding, how do you recommend we avoid this trap?”

  “I’m thinking.” The hologram disappeared.

  Silence weighed on them all.

  4. Old Enemies, Fresh Wounds

  After an uncomfortable hour, Echo reappeared to the bridge crew. “I’ve conferred with the other Magi. We’re sending their shuttle to flush the Saurians out.”

  Kesh snorted. “What will they do, ask if the Blue Claws are having engine troubles and need a tow?”

  “Tell them they’re obstructing a space lane. If they fail to clear out, we’ll take remote control of their engines and do it for them,” Echo said flatly.

  “We can do that?” asked Roz, in awe.

  Maybe the aliens really are as superior as they act, Kesh thought.

  “My dear, we Magi don’t give children any toys we can’t take away. Does it matter if the shuttle has that ability as long as they believe we might?”

  Roz grinned. “You bad girl.”

  Kesh wanted to gouge out his tympanic membranes.

  The partners watched the computer-enhanced screens intently as the Magi shuttle circled around behind and reported three would-be bushwhackers. Even Daisy had been invited to the bridge so the blonde could tell Llewellyn Corporate Intelligence what was happening. They stood elbow-to-elbow in the tight space. The smell of sweat was overwhelming.

  Reuben pretended to watch the screen over the demolitions expert’s shoulder, but his eyes kept glancing down the front of her blouse. “Too close. Dangerous.”

  Kesh wasn’t sure whether he meant the woman or the shuttle’s proximity to the ambush. Having enjoyed a long physical relationship with her identical sister, Reuben knew the territory. The constant temptation for two years could cause problems down the road.

  “Don’t worry,” Echo assured. “Our escort is superior to a dozen such craft.”

  “What can it do?” asked Daisy.

  “If the vessels prove to have murderous intent, we’ll declare them nonsentient and eliminate the threat.”

  “How?”

  “We have several options to choose from. The most likely is a maser shot to the engines. If they persist in ill-reasoned posturing, they’ll drift into the sun. One hopes they’re rational.”

  When the Magi escort issued its demands, the lead Saurian ship replied in Banker via video broadcast, “This is Commander Mendrigyle.” He was grossly overweight, probably from setting the ship’s gravity low to maximize profits.

  Unpardonable. A commander should lead by example, yet his scales weren’t even polished. This meant his hide would be easy to grip during a wrestling match. “He’s half my age, but I could take him.”

  He didn’t hear the escort speak, but their ambusher replied, “We’re not leaving without the criminal Kesh. He’s one of our citizens, and we have a warrant for his arrest.”

  The strident accusation in Banker woke Reuben from his daydreaming. “Wasn’t me.”

  Max asked, “Have they figured out your real identity? They could nail you for money laundering.”

  “Relax,” said Kesh. “There’s a reason I’ve never been in jail.” Over the common radio channel, he replied, “On what trumped-up charge? I’m the greatest of the mighty general’s ten-thousand honored young.” If his link had broadcast video, he would have flared his frills and flexed his muscles. The secretive Magi, however, didn’t allow other species to know what they looked like.

  “Insider trading. He profited from the resolutions passed by the Convocation while sabotaging our merchants. In short, treason.”

  “Oh, that,” Kesh said, embarrassed.

  “Slander,” Reuben shouted. Muting the microphone, he said, “Dude, don’t admit anything.”

  Mendrigyle ignored him. “Shortly before the ruling on Mimic intelligence, Kesh purchased the sole Saurian food plant on their homeworld. He also bought controlling interest in the nearest shuttle manufacturing plant we’ll need to evacuate our people from the protected zone. We suspect the Mimic he brought before the Convocation was surgically altered. You have to admit that the creature you presented was a fluke, a genius compared to the ones in my larder.”

  Reuben developed an abnormal interest in a dirt smudge on the ceiling, which Kesh took as a confession that there may have been a little boost involved.

  Max rushed to his aid, bellowing in a military tone, “Are you accusing Judge Jeeconus of being complicit or senile?”

  “What?” Insulting the ranking Turtle in the sector got the commander’s attention.

  “Either we fooled her as a Union expert on sentience, or she’s behind the conspiracy. Which are you claiming?”

  Mendrigyle replied, “Perhaps we should stick to the charges on the warrant.”

  Kesh grinned, his sharp teeth glistening by the light of the control panels. They hadn’t listed his stock in the furniture plant or several other ventures acquired by his shell companies. He might profit from the transition, but they couldn’t prove their claims. Someone had overreached. “This isn’t treason. I purchased the food facility to increase production and add Goat staples to the offerings. Ditto for the shuttles that’ll need adapting to meet Goat and Mimic specs. Prices haven’t risen on any of the goods. The Goat government has agreed to purchase the factories from me at cost. I hired Goats at the Convocation to run the day-to-day operations. This has been planned for months with the office of the Black Ram.” He nudged Reuben.

  “Sure. What he said,” Reuben blurted.

  Max added, “During the Convocation, Kesh was living in the Ram’s residence for that reason.” He left the word “that” vague on purpose.

  “I’m sure you’re recording my responses. If any of this turns out to be false,” Kesh said, “feel free to jail me.”

  “You failed to secure Mimic mentorship for the Saurian people.”

  “You did that to yourselves,” Echo replied. “When the Phibs left, the Saurians used the planet as their personal treasure chest. No one filed mentor paperwork with the Convocation in the last sixty years because they were so busy eating the evidence. The council would never entrust a species to its abusers.”

  “He evicted millions of Saurians from their homes.”

  Kesh was fed up. “That’s a thrashing lie. We’ll displace fewer than twenty-eight hundred farm workers from the Green Foot Clan. We both know the other planets don’t have to be vacated until the Mimics pass the big test. Their progressing to the point of space travel could take tens of thousands of years. All the ore on those planets will be long gone by then.”

  Echo smiled. “Any other charges?”

  “One more. Kesh has been named
the sole beneficiary of a finder’s fee on the Llewellyn Terraforming contract for Niisham. This is clear benefit.”

  “True, but this happened before the Convocation and because several of my business partners recused themselves. How is this undermining national interests?”

  “The Blue Claw Clan paid the Bat monarchy for exclusive rights to that planet.”

  “You still have them.”

  “What?”

  “Since the Phibs can’t compete and you have the only sleeper ships in the Bat realm, I don’t see the monopoly breaking.”

  Mendrigyle paused, his gears turning. “That would mean bargaining with prisoners.”

  “Citizens,” corrected Roz.

  “Look,” Kesh said. “The liberation of Niisham opened the door to countless trade opportunities, more than making up for the illegal price gouging you were engaged in before.”

  “Illegal?” Mendrigyle shrieked.

  “If you’re so devastated by your losses, I’ll rent all five ships from your clan and prove to you how much free trade partners are worth. In fact, I have plans for—”

  “Oh, no. We’re not going to let you steal that market, too,” Mendrigyle said.

  “So you admit the charges are specious?” Echo said.

  “We have a warrant!”

  Kesh sighed. “My special commission from Judge Jeeconus to escort this ship safely to the Magi academy of sages trumps your charges.”

  “Your what?” Max and Mendrigyle asked at once.

  “Transmitting,” Kesh said, bringing his envoy papers up on the screen.

  “How?”

  “We can head back to the Union arbitrator, but we both know who’ll end up in jail if you obstruct this mission. How much more do you want the Blue Claws to lose?”

  “You’re not a Yellow Slash,” Mendrigyle objected.

  “My newest offspring and recent mate are. For my service, I’ve been granted a special dispensation to join them on Eden.”

  “For Saurians, that’s like retiring to become a priest,” Max explained to the team in English.

  The overweight Saurian on the screen grumbled, “You did this without notifying your family on the homeworld?”

  “Why should they care?”

  “Your house has a vote on the ruling council.” Kesh’s brother had earned the right through wealth and siring over 1024 children. “This was why we opened a communication channel. Your first wife, Travongalas, paid us to let you name an heir from her brood before we killed you.”

  Kesh had met his nephews and dreaded the thought of any of them representing his house in the assembly. “As the head of the house I can name whomever I wish.”

  The commander seemed almost sympathetic. “We told her as much, but she presented a prenuptial agreement.”

  “Fur and bones.” These were the items found most often in Saurian offal, the painful things no one could digest that had to come out the other end. Kesh slapped his forehead with his tail in a gesture of embarrassment. “Her family, the Galas, paid for my … first ship and cargo.” He had barely omitted the word “brother’s.” I’m the one who has to pay for his mating in haste.

  “The Galas family asked us to make an example of you even before the Convocation. Something about cargo you didn’t pay them for, and a second shipment rotted when you failed to show at the scheduled time.”

  “I found more profitable loads, as my current status proves.”

  “Then why go Yellow?”

  “I have more money than I can ever spend,” Kesh lamented. “After a certain point, the game aspect loses its charm. Within two years, I’ll be unveiling a new charitable foundation. Let us go, unless you want Goats running that, as well.”

  “Who do you name as heir?”

  “Tell the Galas they’ll get my answer after they rescind the price on my head.” That should buy a little breathing room. He didn’t dare meet with the wife. She would either expose him as an impostor or gut him herself. “Send me any info you have on the children and grandchildren.”

  The Saurian commander transmitted many biographies before disconnecting.

  “Their Icarus drives are powering up for a jump,” Echo noted.

  The group cheered their minor victory except for Reuben, who looked ill. “How can you have too much money?”

  “I’m going to my sleeper unit,” Kesh responded. He’d spent most of his adult life in a freezer. At first, he had wanted to leverage the time power of money, and then he was busy running from people who knew his secrets. Now, on the voyage where he was short on time, he felt it slipping away with each nap. However, he didn’t want to wade through the horrible options for an heir.

  Roz said, “That’s a good idea for everyone. We’d like to dive as soon as the escort shuttle returns.” In the deep, quantum probability and choices took on visible form. A stray thought could have dire consequences. Things Reuben had seen on their longest jump had driven him to drink.

  “What are you going to do?” Daisy asked her friend.

  “Find a way to squeeze more out of our jump drives.”

  5. The Goat Lottery

  The 8.3-day jump passed in the blink of an eye. After waking everyone else, Roz announced a thirty-day roundtrip to refuel at Filangis because there wouldn’t be a filling station in the deserted Mnamnabo system. On his work shift, Kesh tried to order the glop grenades, but the vendor’s website wasn’t responding. Then he sent a text query to the orbital station to check some facts for his financial opus. Nothing. He growled, running a system’s diagnostic. All the bandwidth was being consumed by a mountain of e-mail transmitted to Reuben.

  Kesh contacted the Goat via his security badge. “Get your ass up here.”

  A few minutes later, the unwashed Goat wandered into the command chamber in his pajama bottoms. The crew demanded he wear clothing for “health and safety” reasons. His carpet of curly hair shed everywhere. “What?” Reuben sounded sober. He often drank for “medicinal purposes” to avoid headaches from the jump and the use of his powers.

  “A hundred thousand messages?”

  “There are more? Crap, I thought I logged them all. Don’t people have anything better to do than write me with their problems?”

  “You’re an advice columnist on the side?” asked Kesh.

  “It’s part of my role as the Black Ram. People call me in when the government fails, and I work around the system. It’s part of the check and balances.”

  Kesh scanned a few. “Women are asking you to—I have to get that image out of my head. Gack!”

  “I’m a national treasure. They want to preserve my DNA with at least one child per planet.”

  Kesh gaped. “They’re all signing up for your stud service?”

  “No,” Reuben said. “I’ll have to pick a handful of women to avoid a riot, but most of the messages are complaints.”

  “So many?”

  “One-hundredth of one percent of the population. Does your government have that high of an approval rating?”

  Kesh shook his tail in the negative. “We’re lucky to keep 60 percent approval. A lot of people feel corruption and the caution of the Turtles are holding back our progress as a species. Our patrons like to approve everything, which led to the Phib rebellion.”

  Phibs had started the war by eating all the offspring of the Black Ram they could find, which explained Reuben’s multiplanet breeding program.

  “The Phibs mistook the extreme caution of their mentors for cowardice and weakness,” said Reuben. “That was their fatal flaw.”

  Unable to disagree, Kesh asked, “How will you respond to all these requests in a single month?”

  Reuben shrugged. “I’ll spend a week picking the lucky ladies, and then I’ll randomly answer a hundred questions.”

  “You only solve three or four problems a day?”

  “I have a spending cap. First, I have to refuel my yacht and pay my guards. The masses think of it like a lottery. They’ll be happy with a hundred winners.�
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  “You don’t have staff or guards anymore, and we’re dropping your yacht after Mnmamnabo.” Kesh did some calculations. “What kind of cap are we talking?”

  Reuben scratched his stomach. “A couple million credits a year.”

  “What’s going to happen to that reserve for the next several years while you’re chasing the mystery fleet?”

  “Look, man, I won’t line my own pockets at the expense of my people. I’m hungry. You can badger me more about my job after I eat.”

  The moody Goat left the bridge, and Kesh couldn’t give chase without abandoning his post.

  Instead, he perused the Galas biographies. The top eight choices made him so ill that he took a peek at the Ram’s flood of mail instead. Other people’s problems were easier to resolve. Once he recognized some patterns, he programmed the AI to group the requests. Every couple hours, he’d check the progress and refine the rules. By the end of his shift, he lumped them into ten categories—fertilization, employment, legal exceptions, medical hardship, persecution by aliens, corruption reports, general slowness of service from government, public building requests, war recovery, and other.

  He caught up to Reuben in the dining hall, one of the few rooms that had a bench suitable for Saurians. None of the mammal chairs had a place for his tail. His personal quarters had the traditional sitting balls.

  Reuben examined experimental data with Roz and a hologram of Echo. A taped-up scroll of paper reached from the kitchen to the elevator. Handwritten notes in several colors decorated the printout. “So we’ve proven that less mass means a lot more speed?”

  “This could be a function of surface area or volume,” Roz replied. “Either way, half the size could be twice the speed. We should design a new experiment for the Magi that minimizes all the above—the smallest automated vessel possible with no Icarus drives or life support.”

  Echo took notes on the recommendations. “Then we can establish a theoretical maximum velocity. How far we can shrink the primary engine loop will be the limiting factor. Any ideas?”