“You’re a scientist, Quan. Has anyone on Stragon been investigating ways to remedy our situation?”
“Can you be fixed, you mean? Reset to factory specifications? Of course, you can. Does anyone on Stragon have the will and the resources to dedicate to such a project? No. The original mutations were engineered gradually, over hundreds of your years. To change you back would take numerous generations of a prescribed breeding program, and would entail considerable risk to all involved.”
“Good luck getting everyone on the planet to agree to that,” Naguchi’s voice whispered in his ear.
Nonetheless, Novak pressed on. “If we could gather the resources ourselves, and demonstrated the will, would it be a risk worth our taking?”
Quan gave this some thought before replying. “At the moment, no. In the future, possibly. Once the Directorate has been neutralized, we might even be willing to help you.”
“Neutralized?” For Novak, this word had dangerous implications. He swallowed hard before continuing, “Neutralized how, Quan? What exactly is your grand plan to show your government the error of its ways?”
“The ninja” smiled. “One step at a time, Mister Novak. First, we must forge an alliance, you and I. And then, perhaps you’ll permit me to leave this chair.”
CHAPTER 12
Nayo, the deeper I get into this document the more disturbing it becomes. I figured out early on that when the Thryggians said “animals” they really meant Humans. Now my brain makes the substitution automatically. Just knowing what our distant ancestors went through while they were being “prepared to be experimented on” makes me feel sick to my stomach. I’m unable to sleep at night. I keep waking up from nightmares about aliens coming into my bedroom to cut tissue samples out of my body. This assignment can’t end soon enough. I wish you could ride in on your white charger and rescue me.
— «» —
Randall Chin’s face was the portrait of incredulity. “Are you serious?” he demanded. “You’re going to give Quan what he wants?” He glanced reflexively toward the monitor screen. The display hadn’t changed. The interrogation room was as empty as it had been ten minutes earlier, after Mendez and Croft had unbuckled the prisoner from his chair and escorted him out the door.
“That isn’t my decision alone to make,” Novak pointed out. “However, we’ve finally hammered out a deal that I think she might be willing to go along with. And as long as giving him what he wants gets us what we want, then it’s what I’ll be recommending to Madame Vargas.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking of providing him with a new identity.”
Novak threw him a reproachful look. “Give me some credit, Nayo. He’s an escaped murderer taking sanctuary in our custody, and half the Security forces on Earth are looking for him. The face he’s currently wearing is as good as a leash. And on a leash is exactly where we want him to be.”
Before Naguchi could say another word, Novak strode past him into the hallway and beckoned to the waiting DeWitt to join them. “Put extra surveillance on our guest and make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone until I get back,” he instructed. “And try not to have too much fun while you’re doing it.”
“Man Mountain” grinned. “You’ve got it, boss,” he said to their backs as Novak and Dr. Chin headed for the elevator. The vehicle parking area was seven floors down.
Despite its outward appearance of decrepitude, the old office building in the Zone was a fortress — reinforced, renovated, and equipped with rogue technology of every kind. The elevators in the lobby had been disabled and the first three floors made to look abandoned in order to discourage exploration by the curious or adventuresome.
Only Novak’s crew and a handful of EIS operatives were permitted access to the Kings’ secret headquarters. It was reached via a private elevator whose thumbprint-locking entrances, like the door to the clean room at SecuriTech, were concealed inside closets and disguised by holographic images on each floor. At a glance, the ones below ground each appeared to be nothing more than a span of blank wall in a shadowy corner. (It could be quite disconcerting to see someone suddenly emerge from one of those walls. The day Mendez had leaped out at him, roaring like a wild animal, Naguchi had nearly had a heart attack.)
“Barry, think of all the negatives. Given everything he’s pulled on us so far, you’ll never be able to trust him,” Naguchi fretted as the two men stepped into the elevator car. “And even if you’re able to make the partnership work in the EIS’s favor, it exponentially increases the risk of Vargas finding out about Trager and the Stragori file.”
Novak pressed P2. “She’s our Chief Intelligence Officer, Nayo. With all of her contacts in the field, I’d be surprised if she didn’t already know more than we would like. She’s invited me to have tea with her in about an hour, probably to grill me about what Quan has or hasn’t revealed under interrogation. I’m going to tell her who he used to work for. Then I’ll tell her who he’d like to work for and see what she says.”
Naguchi was at a loss for words. Not until the car bumped to a stop and the elevator’s inner door slid aside on the sub-basement level was he able to speak again. “You know how she feels about having aliens on the payroll. If she finds out that he’s Stragori—!”
Wearing a lopsided grin, Novak pressed his thumb to the lock and shoved the outer door open. “Last time I checked, captured hostile sources didn’t draw a salary. Wish me luck.”
— «» —
The tea on the silver tray was green this time, with enough orange flavoring added to aromatize the room. It wasn’t a variety she personally liked. Presumably, it meant Novak wasn’t a favorite of hers either right now.
“Shall I pour?” she inquired with porcelain politeness.
“Please do.”
Instead of turning the tray toward him, she made him reach across it to pick up his cup. He studied her face, searching for some hint of emotion, and found nothing — not a twitch of tension, not a crease of concern. Novak could still feel Tommy Novotny stirring inside him every time he formed a thought or made a decision. Looking at Juno Vargas, it was hard to believe that this stiff, painted doll had ever been a bold and volatile teen named Olivia Townsend.
She sat back in her seat, blew gently across the surface of her tea, and took a tentative sip. Then, leveling cool gray eyes at her guest, she remarked, “I received some interesting information this morning.”
Here we go, he thought. Aloud, he said only, “Oh?”
“It seems that the ancient document found in that archaeological dig six months ago in Indo-Asia has finally been translated. Apparently, it was written in an ancient alien tongue. The xenolinguist hired by the Americas High Council had a terrible time with it. She struggled for months to pull any meaning out of the text. Then, suddenly, she had a revelation and was able to finish the job in jig time. Quite a lucky break, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very lucky,” he agreed.
She gave him a reproving look before carefully setting her teacup back down on the tray. “Come on, Barry. We both know luck had very little to do with it, and so does the Supreme Adjudicator. She has a file on Doctor Susan Rosenberg, revealing a long and intimate history with our good friend Nayo Naguchi before he died. On-site Security has also reported to her that the translator had a visit from a Doctor Randall Chin shortly before her dramatic breakthrough. Randy should get out of the Zone a little more often — Security’s efforts to locate him for questioning have so far been unsuccessful, and red flags are going up as we speak. Doctor Rosenberg’s mental stability has come into question as well. Her behavior lately has been described as ‘erratic’, even ‘paranoid’. All of this casts serious doubt on the veracity of the translation, as you can well imagine.
“Don’t worry — the High Council still doesn’t know that Naguchi is alive, or that Naguchi and Chin are the same person, so for the moment you and I and the EIS are all safe. Unfortunately, I
can’t say the same for Doctor Rosenberg and her elusive lover.
“I was with the Supreme Adjudicator when the finished work was delivered to her, and I can tell you that she was suspicious even before she looked at it. After reading it she was considering laying charges. I believe she was expecting something a lot more important and enlightening than a detailed description of how to torture a rabbit. I have her ear and can control some of the damage at my end, but I need to know the truth. Did Rosenberg falsify the translated document?”
Novak had feared something like this might happen. Fortunately, he’d also prepared for it. Firmly placing his cup on the coffee table, he replied, “No, she didn’t. There must have been other translators assigned to this project. I’m sure any one of them can double-check her work and verify its authenticity.”
Vargas stared at him for a moment. “What exactly did Naguchi give her, Barry?” she asked softly.
“Doctor Chin worked alongside a team of Thryggian scientists to trace the contagion vector of the Angel of Death plague back in the late 80s. In the process, he may have — ah — acquired some of the originals of the translated documents that were given out at meetings.”
“Say no more,” she ordered him. “I’m going to need deniability. Now tell me, in your opinion, is Doctor Rosenberg the sort of person who could become extremely upset at the thought of helpless animals being dissected alive?”
“I think she could become seriously sleep-deprived from having recurring nightmares about it,” he confirmed, adding silently, and I probably won’t be sleeping too well either from now on, knowing what the Thryggians are capable of.
He retrieved his cup and sipped from it. The tea was cold and tasted bitter.
“That’s what I thought. All right, Barry, leave this with me. However, once everything is smoothed over, you and I will need to have a long talk about that document, as well as the ones that Naguchi acquired and then withheld from us.”
Novak replaced his cup on the tray. If she was using the royal ‘we’, this might not be the best time to discuss—
“Nestor Quan,” she announced, charging through his thoughts. “You’ve had him for well over a week. What, if anything, have you managed to learn so far?”
“I interrogated the prisoner, as per your orders—”
“Oh, please! Since when do you do anything ‘as per my orders’?”
The cool stare had become positively frosty. He took a deep breath and pressed ahead. “You wanted to know who he was working for at the time he boarded Platform Zulu? It was the Stragori government.”
Madame Vargas leaned back against the loveseat cushion, frowning thoughtfully. “And has he told you what his mission was?”
“Not yet, but I’m certain he will.”
“And you feel this way because…?”
“Let’s just say that now that his former employers want him dead, he’s reconsidered his career options.”
“The Directorate wants Quan dead? Why?”
He paused, carefully picking his words. “He’s failed one too many times, and he knows too much about the Stragori. And he’s willing to put all of his knowledge at our disposal, in exchange for protection from them.”
Her expression darkened. “Of course he is! Doling it out by the teaspoonful, no doubt, to remain useful to us for as long as possible. And to keep us busy verifying each piece of his dubious data. Get rid of him, Barry,” she snapped. “He’s a Stragori plant. Once he’s revealed what he was doing for them aboard Zulu and Daisy Hub, give him a stiff dose of Warrior King justice. In the meanwhile, I have repairs to make to the reputation of a certain xenolinguist. And if Randy Chin knows what’s good for him, he’ll pay her a social visit as soon as possible. That woman needs a hug, and he’s the only one who can give it to her. Now, shoo!”
Barry Novak returned to the Zone with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he’d managed the translation of the ancient document to a relatively safe conclusion. Nobody’s cover had been blown, and the existence of the Stragori file was still a secret. On the other hand, his hard-negotiated deal with Nestor Quan was apparently a non-starter.
Or was it?
True, Madame Vargas had summarily ordered him to execute the prisoner. But she had also acknowledged that Novak never followed her orders.
It appeared that Olivia Townsend wasn’t completely gone after all.
A smile spread across his face, and for the next twenty minutes, at least, all was right with Tommy Novotny’s world.
PART III
THE EPIPHANIES OF DREW TOWNSEND
DAISY HUB, 2399 C.E.
Daisy Hub (brought online 2368 C.E.) was an inspection and resupply station on the outermost edge of Earth space (Sector 5). Initially proposed and funded to be a long-term experiment in independent deep space living, it soon became an orbiting gulag where Earth’s government could send Eligible dissidents and boat rockers. Observation Platform Zulu, home to the local Ranger detachment, was consequently installed in shared orbit with Daisy Hub in 2381 C.E. There have been allegations that Earth Intelligence was in fact behind the selection of the “troublemakers” who formed the Hub’s crew, although no proof was ever found to support such a claim. Daisy Hub was the site of Earth’s first interstellar battle in 2402 C.E. Although both the Hub and Zulu sustained considerable damage in the conflict, they remained in use until their decommissioning in 2422 C.E., per the terms of the Reunification Agreement of 2420 C.E.
— Sic Transit Terra, An Unauthorized Planetary History
(2673 C.E.)
CHAPTER 13
It was quiet on Daisy Hub. Evening shift had just begun, and most of the crew were either relaxing or taking classes. Assistant Manager of Station Operations Ruby “Mom” McNeil was on the short-hopper landing deck, teaching half a dozen techs how to fly the Corvou-built shuttlecraft she’d named Devil Bug. Cargo Inspector Lu Xensiu was on K Deck, turning another dozen or so crew members into ninjas. Data and Communications Specialist Lydia Garfield sat at her console in AdComm — the administration and communications center of the station — keeping a remote eye on the ship inspection underway on A Deck. And behind his desk on the other side of AdComm, in a workspace defined by banks of old-fashioned metal filing cabinets and a disreputable-looking square of blue carpet, Manager of Station Operations Drew Townsend was staring at row after row of text on his InfoComm screen and stifling yawn after yawn.
Lydia’s voice calling to him across the deck was a welcome interruption.
“Drew, Gavin Holchuk found a couple of unregistered passengers in the cargo hold of the Arcturus. One of them insisted on speaking with you, so he’s being escorted here from Med Services once the Doc is done with him.”
Townsend leaned back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand.
They were plague refugees, most likely.
Daisy Hub was Earth’s farthest-flung space station. Sharing an orbit with Ranger Platform Zulu, it ran circles around a gas giant located just inside the border of Sector 5. Two years earlier, a mutated strain of Angel of Death had broken out in the sector, and shortly afterward, Holchuk and his team of cargo inspectors had begun finding stowaways on outbound ships. The Hub’s crew had so far been lucky — none of the quarantine breakers had actually been infected. But Townsend knew from experience how quickly that kind of luck could change.
“And the other passenger?”
“The Doc wants to keep her, at least for a while.”
That didn’t sound good. “Did you see her on the monitors?” he demanded. “How did she look? Did she seem healthy?”
“Actually, she was adorable. She’ll make a great playmate for Yoko.”
Startled by the sudden nearness of Lydia’s voice, Townsend glanced up and found her standing at the end of his improvised room divider, wearing a mischievous expression on her face.
&
nbsp; “She’s an animal,” he said as his fatigued brain finally made the connection. “A pet?”
“A black and white rat in a cage. The Doc is running tests on her as we speak, but she looked pretty lively to me. Unlike someone else I’ve been observing. You’ve been at this for hours, Drew. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
He was sure. He’d been reviewing twenty standard years’ worth of reports logged by the previous station managers to determine the extent of Earth Intelligence’s involvement in Daisy Hub’s affairs. This was not a job he could delegate without the crew finding out about his own involvement with the EIS; and he wasn’t certain that any of them — including himself — were ready yet for that to be revealed. In fact, they might never be.
As he was opening his mouth to reply, the tube car door to the right of his desk slid aside and two large men stepped onto the deck. One of them was Orvy Hagman, the station’s dock foreman and stern-faced Head of Security. The other fellow reminded Townsend of the street toughs he’d often had to deal with when he was a field investigator with District Security in New Chicago. This man was Eligible — a prerequisite for space travel — but clearly no stranger to violence. His face was etched with scars and appeared to have recently been shoved through a pane of glass. And his lips were fixed in a faint, improbable grin.
Drew and Lydia exchanged a bemused look.
“I’ll be at my station if you need anything,” she told him, and retreated to sit watchfully at her console on the other side of C Deck.
“Mr. Townsend, this is Max Karlov,” said Hagman, his voice even gruffer than usual. He nudged the visitor forward with one hand and dropped a datawafer onto the middle of Drew’s desktop with the other. “According to his biowafer there, he’s from Earth, and he’s been posted to the Hub.”
Oh, really? Townsend reached for the wafer. As his fingers closed around it, he felt it gently vibrate against his palm.
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