by Isaac Hooke
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QUANTUM PREDATION
ARGONAUTS
BOOK FOUR
Isaac Hooke
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Text copyright © Isaac Hooke 2017
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
www.IsaacHooke.com
Cover design by Isaac Hooke
Cover image by Shookooboo
Special thanks to the following Beta Readers who helped out with this book:
Nicole P.
Sandy G.
Gary F.
Lance W.
Lezza M.
Amy B.
Myles C.
Lisa A. G.
Gregg C.
Jeff K.
Mark C.
Mark P.
Jeremy G.
Doug B.
Jenny O.
Gene A.
Larry J.
Allen M.
Norman H.
Robine
Eric
table of contents
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
postscript
about the author
acknowledgments
one
Numbers. A perversion of numbers.
Rade sat in his office aboard the Argonaut. He was reviewing the bookkeeping via his Implant, going over the entries Bax, the Argonaut’s AI, had made over the past month. One of his rules was: always triple-check anything where money was involved. Always. It was very easy for a station’s maintenance worker to purposely over bill. Or for an AI tasked with bookkeeping to siphon a small amount off the top each month for itself, for that matter. Even though Bax was the vessel’s AI, Rade wouldn’t put it past the sentient machine to do such a thing.
In fact, Rade had heard about the AI cores aboard a few merchant ships that had made quite a business for themselves by secretly bleeding away profits from the owners, making enough so that when they were sent to be decommissioned for spare parts, the AIs were able to buy their deeds of title back from the dump. The last time Rade had checked the ship registry, he had noticed at least twenty vessels registered to the AI cores that ran them, with human crew complements of zero.
Each entry in the books was linked to the corresponding digital receipt or invoice. When he confirmed that everything was correct, he ran a quick analysis on the current year’s dataset. He perceived a noticeable uptick in expenses after each mission, marking the times he had brought the Marauder class vessel back to dry dock for repairs.
Very little of those repairs had anything to do with damage taken during the mission, but rather were due to upkeep and maintenance costs. That was one of the problems with purchasing an older ship for so cheap upfront: he had to pay higher maintenance costs on the backend. Given the extent of those costs, it was a good thing he had the backing of a wealthy client like Surus to pay for them. Then again, all of those costs were tax deductible. Combined with the amortization expenses applied to the Argonaut herself, and the interest expenses on the loan, he very rarely had to pay anything to the taxman. The banks were a different story altogether, of course. If he ever wanted to ruin his day, all he had to do was glance at the huge monthly debt service.
A perversion of numbers indeed.
A notification appeared in the lower right of his display. He was receiving an incoming call from Fret, his communications man.
Rade dismissed the books and accepted the call. A holographic image of Fret appeared before him. He was seated at his station on the bridge next door. His posture reflected that: his arms floated in the air before him as if resting on an invisible table.
While he might seem rather ordinary while sitting, when he stood, Fret was taller even than Rade. Unlike the other male members of the crew, however, there was no hint of any musculature underneath the fatigues he wore while on duty, as he was the leanest man aboard.
“Fret,” Rade said.
“Boss, I’m receiving an incoming call request from Talan,” Fret said. That was a nearby station the Argonaut was passing by while en route to a meeting Surus had arranged with another Green operating in the area. “Voice only. We’re close enough to enable a realtime link.”
“Source?”
“A man named Muto Batindo,” Fret said. “He claims to be a representative of the Kenyan government. According to the station records, he’s an employee of the Kenyan consulate aboard Talan.”
“What the hell does he want?” Rade said, mostly to himself. “All right, tap him in.”
Fret winked out and a moment later a voice came on the line. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Rade said.
“This is Muto Batindo of the Kenyan consulate in Talan,” the voice continued. “Am I speaking with Mr. Rade Galaal of Unlimited Universe Security Consulting?” The speaker had a distinctly Kenyan accent.
“You are,” Rade said cautiously.
“I was browsing your InterGalNet presence,” Batindo said. “Your credentials are very impressive.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Batindo?” Rade said.
“I hear you can offer assistance to people who find themselves in a bind,” Batindo said.
“Depends on what you mean by a bind,” Rade said. “But I’ll help you out, so you don’t incriminate yourself on an insecure channel. We’re not mercenaries, despite whatever impression you may have had while browsing our InterGalNet presence. We don’t accept just any mission. Assassinations, kidnappings, gun running, those sorts of things, they’re not for us. If you’re looking to have us perform anything of questionable legality, I suggest you disconnect now while you’re ahead.”
“Thank you for the warning, M
r. Rade Galaal,” Batindo said.
“Very welcome.” Rade waited for the guy to disconnect.
The man didn’t.
“So, now that you’ve passed my initial client screening,” Rade said. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me what it is my team can do for you.”
“My government has lost contact with one of its outposts,” Batindo said. “We have also not heard from two tax collection ships that were sent to the planet. You’re the closest for-hire vessel with reasonable armaments in the area. I would like you to transport me to this outpost so I can check on its status.”
“Name of the outpost?” Rade said. “And system?”
“The outpost is called Kitale,” Batindo said. “It is located in the Nyiki system.”
Rade checked the map. “That’s on the outskirts of known space. A pioneer outpost.”
“Correct,” Batindo said.
Rade considered the job. The current system didn’t get many traders. It could be weeks before Batindo was able to secure another ride. Yet Rade didn’t want to completely take advantage of the man, since it was obvious Batindo was worried something bad had befallen the outpost. Rade didn’t blame him: pioneer colonies had high failure rates. Natural disasters; political strife; alien invasions; these and more were par for the course when living on the outskirts of human territory.
“We can do this job for one hundred thousand, standard currency,” Rade said.
“Please, Mr. Rade Galaal,” Batindo said. “You price yourself out of my range. And I prefer digicoins.”
“You can pay the equivalent of one hundred thousand standard currency in digicoins, if you wish,” Rade said.
“You won’t budge on that amount?” Batindo said.
“Look, we’re not the cheapest you can hire,” Rade said. “But we’re the best. If you don’t want to pay, you’re welcome to hire the next ship that comes by. It costs a lot of money to operate a starship. We have propellant costs. Geronium expenses. Oxygen and food fees. Maintenance and upkeep. Then there are the mechs we have aboard, which we’ll put to use if things get rough where we are headed. Deploying those mechs doesn’t come cheap. We have to pay for the booster rockets for the return trip back into orbit, not to mention any repairs needed after the operation.”
“How about fifty thousand?” Batindo said. “With a provision for another fifty if we have to use the mechs. I am hoping they won’t be needed where we are going.”
Rade pursed his lips. “Sixty-five thousand without the mechs. With a provision for another thirty-five if we use them.”
Batindo hesitated.
“We’re the only ship in the area...” Rade said.
“All right Mr. Galaal,” Batindo said. “You drive a hard bargain. Sixty-five thousand it is. When can I expect your arrival?”
“I’ll have my astrogator change course for Talan station shortly,” Rade said. “We should be there in four hours.”
“Thank you,” Batindo said. “I will wait for you in departure bay five aboard the station.”
“I’ll expect ten K deposited in my account before we arrive,” Rade said. “I’m transmitting my account information now.”
“It will be done,” Batindo said.
Rade disconnected, then tapped in Shaw. “Take us to Talan.”
“You got it,” Shaw replied. “What’s up?”
“We have a new client,” Rade said.
“Ooo,” Shaw said. “Finally something for us to do. Other than ferrying Surus randomly around the galaxy pursuing dead-end leads. Have you told our alien employer, yet, by the way?”
“No,” Rade said.
Shaw paused. “She probably won’t take it too well.”
“Probably not,” Rade said. “Talk to you later, babe.”
He tapped out.
“Bax, tell Surus to come to my office at her convenience,” Rade said.
“Will do,” the Argonaut’s AI replied.
Rade thrummed his fingers on the desk, his mind wandering as he waited. He thought of the other planets he had visited on the outskirts of known space during previous missions as a security consultant, and as a spec-ops soldier in the military. Because of his track record for finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, his first reaction when he heard about a frontier colony losing communications with the rest of the galaxy was to assume something bad had happened. It could be a simple communications failure, but with his luck, it was probably alien contact.
I always seem to find myself in the middle of an alien invasion. It’s like the universe has a fetish for introducing me to unfriendly aliens.
He dismissed the thought as random paranoia wrought of too many days in deep space. He had been to his fair share of frontier colonies. In fact, he had been stationed on a few during his tour of duty, and on most he had never heard a peep from any aliens. Then again, there were the other times, the outlier scenarios...
His gut was telling him this was a bad idea. And yet his mind promised him it was fine.
Follow your gut.
Normally he would have, but there was the small matter of the sixty-five K the latest client had promised to pay. Besides, if the colonists really were in danger, and the Argonaut was the closest ship in the region, he had a moral duty to help in whatever way he could.
He dearly hoped it wouldn’t be in the role of first responder.
Surus arrived a few minutes later. The Artificial was the epitome of beauty with her high cheekbones and flawless skin. She wore her long black hair in her customary pony tail, like Shaw. Her tight fatigues accentuated her perfect figure, and Rade had to remind himself that he already had a woman, one who he adored very much. Besides, it was silly to be attracted to what was essentially a robot. Still, tell that to his hindbrain.
“Hello, Rade,” Surus said.
Rade nodded slowly. The Artificial was merely the host for the Green Phant that resided within, the alien entity that referred to itself as Surus.
“Sit down,” Rade said.
She did.
He wondered how to broach the subject. Probably best to dive right in.
“So,” Rade said. “Apparently a pioneer outpost owned by the Kenyan government has failed to check in. I was contacted by the Kenyan consulate in Talan, and asked to investigate. I agreed.”
Surus frowned. It looked strangely wrong on that normally serene face. “Why didn’t you consult with me first?”
“Because it’s my security company?” Rade said. “And my ship? It’s not like you have anything else for the team to do at the moment. And you already agreed we could take on other clients when we weren’t busy hunting Phants.”
“But that’s just it,” Surus said. “We’re currently hunting Phants.”
“Really?” Rade said. “That’s news to me. Where’s our latest lead?”
“We don’t have one,” she admitted. “But I mean, we need to remain open in case news comes in from one of my eyes and ears.”
“We haven’t had anything to do for the past three months,” Rade said. “You’ve been paying us to idle. Look, my men need something to do. Besides, it’ll take three weeks, a month tops to detour to the outpost. You can’t tell me you expect to receive news of a Phant over the next month?”
“It’s possible I just might,” Surus said. “You know we have to be ready to jump on the news when we do. We can’t allow the trail to go stale. Phants can be very... evasive, to say the least. Especially when they realize they’ve been uncovered.”
“Well, I’m going to have to overrule you on this one,” Rade said. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious why the colony lost contact?”
“Intergovernmental politics within sub-nations do not interest me,” Surus stated.
“So just because Kenya as a nation state is not a major galactic player, even though one of its outposts is potentially in danger, you consider them too small and unworthy of your attention, is that it?” Rade said.
“Something like that,” Surus s
aid.
“Well, they’re offering six months pay for basically a month’s work—a week and a half to fly there, and a week and a half back. I plan to distribute the money to the men as a bonus, on top of what you’re already paying us.”
Surus didn’t answer for several moments. “It’s probably a simple malfunction, you know: problems with the comm nodes stationed at the Slipstream.”
“Probably,” Rade said. “If so, then we’ve made an easy sixty-five K.”
“That’s only three months pay,” Surus said. “You just told me six months.”
“Yes, it’ll be six if I can figure out a way to incorporate the Hoplites into the mission,” Rade said.
“I see.”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Rade told her. “What’s the difference between drifting through a bunch of unrelated star systems for a month, and traveling somewhere with purpose for that month? There isn’t any.”
“The difference is simple,” Surus said. “By accepting the contract, you’ve forced us to complete it, no matter how long it takes. Whereas if we were simply drifting between star systems, as you call it, we could drop what we were doing at a moment’s notice to pursue a lead.” She hesitated, then added: “And frankly, I don’t want your team risking their lives if this proves to be more than a comm failure. Especially if it’s some petty internal conflict between rebel factions. I need you and your men to stay alive. We have far more important matters at stake, such as the protection of the whole galaxy. The security of some tiny, relatively unimportant nation matters little in comparison.”
“Oh, we’re going to stay alive, don’t you worry on that account.” Rade regarded her uncertainly. Then he nodded to himself. “I think I get what’s going on. You’re scared of losing control of my team. You’re happy having us just drift back and forth aimlessly because it makes you feel like you’re in control, and doing something.”
“That’s not it at all,” Surus said. “I already told you it’s because of the restraints on our freedom: it affects our ability to drop what we’re doing and pursue any leads that come our way.”