by Jay Allan
Ethan wound his way around the cultivated jungle, looking for an exit. Supposedly, somewhere in here there was a station directory, but he hadn’t seen one so far. The businessman had probably just lied to get rid of him.
Come on, Ethan thought as he rounded another bend in the winding garden paths. The path he was on opened into a square with a cascading fountain in the center. The fountain was overgrown with climbing blue-flowering plants that seemed to flourish in their aquatic home. They’d wormed their roots into the synthstone, cracking it and crumbling pieces off the statue which sat atop the fountain.
Ethan stopped to survey his surroundings. Branching off the square were four different pathways which wound through the dark, shadowy greenery of the gardens. Someone could get lost in here for hours, he thought. Perhaps that was why nobody else was walking through the gardens with him. The place was huge. Ethan turned in a slow circle, his eyes skipping around, searching for someone, anyone—an agri-worker or another pedestrian just passing through like him, but everywhere he looked there were just plants and empty synthstone paths. Suddenly he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickling, and he heard a voice call out behind him—
“Looking for someone?”
Ethan whirled around with his hand already on his gun to find himself face to face with the dark man he’d seen aboard Chorlis Orbital. “Hands up, Ethan.” The dark man nodded to Ethan’s sidearm. “Drop that at your feet and kick it toward me. Slowly.”
“How do you know my name?” Ethan asked nonchalantly as he slowly drew his weapon and dropped it as instructed. He purposefully ignored the last part of the dark man’s command and didn’t kick the weapon away from himself.
The dark man shook his head. “Not relevant.”
Ethan tried another tack. “What are you doing here?”
A new voice joined them then. “The better question, Ethan, would be what are you doing to get me my money?”
Ethan whirled again, unable to believe his ears. Standing behind him with a wide, toothy grin on his pudgy face was none other than Big Brainy Brondi himself. The crime boss had an annoying habit of smiling with his mouth open, like he was always on the brink of bursting into laughter. “Do you have it?”
Ethan shook his head slowly. “No, but, hoi, Brondi, I can get it for you. I was just about to sell my ship to get you the money. Swear to the Immortals that’s what I’m here for.”
“Not nice to lie, Ethan,” Brondi said, smoothing a hand over his head of slicked back black hair. “My man, Verlin, had a talk with a very agreeable nova pilot who was more than happy to spill his guts.” Brondi gave another gaping smile and stared at Ethan with over-wide, bloodshot gray eyes that suggested heavy stim use. “Literally and figuratively, that is. Seems like you were planning to run away and join the fleet, isn’t that right, Verlin?”
Ethan smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Look, just give me a couple more hours. I’ll sell my ship, and you’ll have your money. You can come with me, if you like.”
Brondi raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion, and his gaping smile broadened until it looked like he was trying to swallow a giant burger whole. “Yes! Yes, that’s right. I’ll come with you. Then you can sell your ship for half the money you owe me, and I’ll kill you to make myself feel better about the other half. But wait!” He frowned and began tapping his chin. “What was the name of that ship you acquired this morning, Verlin?”
“The Atton.”
An icy dread slithered into Ethan’s gut.
“Isn’t that your ship, Ethan? The one you were planning to sell?”
“Where is she, Brondi?”
“Where is who?” The crime boss asked with an unconvincing look of innocence etched across his fat face. “Oh, you mean your copilot! Verlin—” Ethan watched as Brondi seemed to be trying to peer over his head to get Verlin’s attention. It would have been comical were the situation not so serious, since Brondi was only about five feet tall.
“Yes?” Verlin answered, and Ethan turned to half look at the bounty hunter.
“I can’t recall … Did you have to kill the woman on board that ship, or did she surrender the vessel willingly?”
“She fought back, but she’s alive.”
Brondi placed a hand on his chest and staggered back, as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted from his boxy shoulders. “Thank the Immortals! What a relief! For a minute I thought … well, never mind what I thought—the important thing is that she’s alive!”
“Release her to me, Brondi, and I’ll get you your money.”
Brondi’s eyebrows arched sharply downward. “No, no, no, that’s not how this works, Ethan. And besides, how do you propose to get me my money if you no longer have a ship to sell?”
Ethan gritted his teeth. “You can’t steal my ship and still pretend I owe you 10,000 sols. The ship is worth at least six.”
“Who said anything about stealing? I said we acquired a ship, Verlin. Does that sound like stealing to you?”
Verlin didn’t answer, but Ethan noted a return of Brondi’s gaping smile. “It’s all about the way you package things, Ethan. Why be so negative?”
“It’s my ship, you dumb frek!”
Brondi’s smile faded instantly and suddenly his bloodshot eyes were cold and stony. “No, Ethan. It’s my ship. Consider it the interest on your backdated loan payments. I should have you vivisected for speaking to me that way, but I’ll let it go.”
Ethan’s eyes were locked on Brondi’s, meanwhile he pictured the garden square in his head, looking for an escape route. Behind him, one of the paths was cut off by Verlin. In front, Brondi had closed off the way he’d come. To either side were another two paths, apparently open, but Ethan knew better than to trust that. Brondi wouldn’t be here without his usual cadre of bodyguards. That was why the gardens were deserted. Brondi had all the entrances and exits sealed up, just as he surely had people waiting down all the ways out of the square. Not to mention that making a run for it would open him up to fire from Verlin, and the man had to be a crack shot to make a living as a bounty hunter in Dark Space. Escape wasn’t an option.
“Did you come all this way just to kill me, Brondi?”
The crime boss spread his hands. “No, I came all this way to acquire a new vessel for my fleet, and to find a man who owes me a great debt, so I can offer him a deal.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ll scratch your debt, and release your pretty little copilot, and I’ll even let you chase your dream of becoming a fleet officer. Sound good so far?” Brondi’s eyes glittered madly in the artificial sunlight.
“What’s the catch?”
“Catch? What catch? I just need a small favor. Two small favors, perhaps.”
“Spill it, Brondi.”
“Don’t be so hasty. I’ll explain, all in good time, my friend, all in good time, but first let’s go enjoy a nice cool beverage aboard my corvette so we can discuss business with a little more privacy.”
CHAPTER 5
Brondi led the way through the Kavarath, an old ISSF seraphim-class corvette, while Verlin and his cadre of bodyguards kept a tight watch over Ethan. Even though Ethan’s hands were bound with stun cord, Brondi wasn’t taking any chances.
They came to the living room aboard the corvette, and Verlin pushed Ethan down into an armchair while Brondi went to the bar counter in one corner of the room to fix their drinks. The room was a big open space with clean, opulent white furniture. Ethan spent his time studying the lavish appointments of the corvette and idly adding up the probable prices of the furnishings in his head until he reached some absurd number and stopped, disgusted by the gross excess. Brondi’s corvette was richly adorned with deep blue carpets, soft, recessed gold glow panels, elaborate moldings on the white walls and ceiling, priceless fireglass sculptures—their crystalline depths roiling with rainbow-colored light—and even more priceless paintings from a bygone era when people still had the money fo
r art. It was a painful reminder to Ethan of how the other half lived. Well, the other one or two percent, anyway.
“You know, Ethan, if you had agreed to work for me all those years ago, you could have shared in this,” Brondi said, gesturing to the walls around them. “I could use a pilot as good as you.”
“I was a smuggler once, Brondi. I lost everything because of that. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the sad stories. You got caught, went to prison, leaving your wife and son behind. Blah, blah, blah! Wake up, Ethan! You have nothing to lose any more! And Dark Space is no place for an upstanding citizen. You can eat caviar with the sinners, or starve to death with the saints.”
Ethan watched Brondi crossing the room with two steaming glasses of a luminous red cocktail. If Ethan had to guess, he’d say it was spiked with some or other stim. He resolved not to have more than a few sips. Brondi passed one of the glasses to a blocky bodyguard, who in turn handed it to Ethan.
“Because I’m such a fair man, I’m going to give you another chance, Ethan. Fly for me, and I’ll solve all of your problems. What do you say?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Brondi offered another gaping grin. “Not if you like to live.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Good, well now that that nasty bit of motivation is out in the open—” Brondi raised his glass, and waited for Ethan to do the same. “—to a hopefully long and mutually profitable partnership.” Ethan frowned and they drank together, but Ethan didn’t take more than a tiny sip of the fragrant, red cocktail. It was thick and syrupy sweet, steaming with fragrant vapor from dry ice, and glowing with some kind of phosphorescent powder that was suspended inside. Even with that small sip, Ethan felt his mind clear and his thoughts sharpen. He also relaxed considerably. The drink was definitely laced with stim, though without knowing exactly what kind of stim, Ethan was wary of the effects. He set his glass down on the transpiranium table between himself and Brondi. “I want to see Alara before we negotiate anything.”
Brondi nodded agreeably, and then clapped his hands and lifted his head to speak to the ceiling. “Holofield on, level one.” The air around them shimmered, and suddenly Ethan was somewhere else; he was still seated, but everywhere he looked the walls had turned from white to an ugly gray, the soft gold of recessed lighting had been traded for a dark and dreary blue light coming from an unshielded glow strip running around the ceiling. There was a strange, keening sound coming from somewhere nearby, while before him lay an empty bunk with dirty white sheets, a small viewport showing the black of space, and an open toilet in the corner. The scene was intimately familiar to him—he was locked inside a cell. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia swept through him, and he spun around, looking for an exit. That was when he saw that the keening sound was coming from a small, crumpled form lying curled up on the cold floor in front of the bars of the cell. Dark hair was splayed out around the woman’s head, and her cheeks were wet with tears. Ethan felt a blinding rage welling up inside of him. He walked carefully over to Alara and bent down to touch her shoulder, but she couldn’t feel his touch. What he was seeing was real enough, but his presence was an illusion. He turned to get a better look at her face, and that was when he saw the ugly purple bruise which had caused one of her eyes to swell shut.
Abruptly the holofield cut out and Ethan was staring into Brondi’s loathsome features once more. Ethan’s eyes went wide and bulged with fury. He tried to lunge across the table, but strong hands pulled him back and held him in place. Brondi began smiling again, and he clucked his tongue like a chicken. “Don’t make me lock you up, too, Ethan.”
“You hurt her!”
“No, Verlin hurt her, and she was the one who decided to resist. Be thankful that he didn’t hurt her more permanently. Now, listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once, and I’m growing impatient. I have in my possession a nova pilot’s uniform, his security credentials, his identichip, a holoskin, and a vocal synthesizer implant. I also have his nova fighter.”
Ethan shook his head, uncomprehending. “And you want me to … what? Impersonate a fleet officer?”
Brondi clapped his hands quietly. “Kavaar! You’re not as dumb as you look. Yes, that’s exactly right. Verlin here went to a lot of trouble to get the novas on his tail so we could acquire all of these items.”
“What for?”
“Come, come, Ethan. I thought you were smart. Surely you can imagine the value of my infiltrating the fleet. Imagine the things I could do if I had someone on the inside working for me. Why, I could probably assassinate the Supreme Overlord! That would give me a great deal of personal satisfaction, although I suspect he would be replaced by someone just as annoying. Another possibility would be for me to gather Intel on any fleet operations that might compromise my activities … But you know what I really want? I want the fleet gone. Poof.” Brondi mimicked an explosion with his hands. “What do you suppose the Imperial fleet would be without their precious Valiant? There would be no one left to stand up to me. The last, feckless remnant of the ISS would be extinguished, and Dark Space would finally and truly be free of its meddling influence.”
“We’d descend into anarchy,” Ethan said.
“What makes you think we aren’t already living in anarchy? The only difference would be no more taxation, and no more bloated fleet to drain our precious resources. Have you ever stopped to think that they don’t contribute anything? The fleet doesn’t produce anything, their officers eat our food, burn our fuel, and use our women, but they never give anything back.”
“They give us security by guarding the gate, and they protect us from ourselves by defending the mines, farms, and factories. Without that little bit of discipline, we’d tear ourselves apart.”
“They don’t need to guard the gate; in case you hadn’t noticed, the gate is broken down and disabled; no one bothers to maintain it anymore, and that’s to say nothing of the gate on the other side. As for the mines, farms, and factories you speak of, those are already owned by rich companies. They can pay for their own defenses with the taxes they’ll save. No, I’ll be doing all of us a favor. Did you know that there are over 50,000 crew lounging around aboard the Valiant? They never do anything. The Valiant never moves. They just sit there, having a big party on their five kilometer-long cruise ship, all the while they reassure us that they’re using up our resources to guard a gate which doesn’t even need guarding, and meanwhile we are starving to death for the privilege of being able to sleep soundly at night, for the empty reassurance that they give us, reminding us of what we already know: Don’t worry, the back door is securely shut! We checked for you. Sweet dreams. It’s been shut for a decade! And if some drooling Sythian ever figured out how to open it from the other side, the Valiant wouldn’t even see them coming.”
Ethan frowned. He had to admit, as much as he might hate Brondi, the man had a point. They might actually be better off without the fleet to suck them dry. He still didn’t like it, but it wasn’t as though he had a choice.
Ethan pursed his lips, hesitating just long enough to assure himself that he had no other options. “So what’s your plan?”
“Good!” Brondi rubbed his hands together and grinned. “See, this is why I wanted you to work for me. I don’t have to explain things twice with you. The plan is simple. You infiltrate the overlord’s precious carrier and sabotage it.”
“You want me to kill 50,000 people.”
“Don’t think of it as killing 50,000 people, think of it as killing 50,000 leeches on society, and saving the hungry mouths that they are taking food from everyday.”
Ethan grimaced. “After that, you’ll release Alara and clear my debt?”
Brondi nodded. “I’ll even give you your ship back.”
Ethan hesitated. He was signing a deal with the devlin himself. In exchange for his soul, and a weight his conscience could never bear, he’d rescue Alara and himself, too. Were
their two lives worth more than 50,000? But Brondi was right about one thing—50,000 fewer mouths to feed would result in 50,000 fewer people starving from the perpetual scarcity of food.
“One last question.”
Brondi’s forehead wrinkled up to his slicked back black hair. “Yes?”
“Why me?”
“You owe me, you’re resourceful, and you’re the only pilot good enough to impersonate a nova jock without additional training.”
“Hmmm. Before I go, I’d like a chance to say goodbye to Alara. Just in case. And your assurances that you’ll let her go if I die in the attempt.”
Brondi’s eyes became cautious. “Now, Ethan, you know I’ll only release her if you succeed.”
“I may succeed, but not survive.”
“Oh, well in that case of course I’ll honor my end of the bargain.”
Ethan frowned and pursed his lips, wondering if the crime boss would actually honor the deal under any circumstances, but he wasn’t in a position to make further negotiations, and he didn’t have a choice. “Fine, it’s a deal, Brondi.”
Brondi’s wild eyes lit up, and he raised his glass once more. “Excellent! Drink up, Ethan. Don’t waste it. That brandy costs more than 100 sols per glass.”
Ethan reluctantly raised the noxious concoction to his lips once more, eyeing it all the way there. How much damage could a few doses of stim do to him anyway?
“To a brighter, freer future for Dark Space,” Brondi intoned.
Ethan nodded. “To the future.” And with that, they drained their glasses together.
CHAPTER 6
Ethan walked down the narrow corridor of the detention level aboard Alec Brondi’s corvette. The detention deck was the lowermost of the ship’s four levels, and it struck a noticeable contrast with the rest of the corvette’s lavish appointments. Here, every expense had been spared; the glow panels were flickering, the walls were peeling, and bare conduits and pipes were visible both beneath the floor grating and running along the ceiling. The detention level was noisy and hot from the ship’s reactors on level two. Ethan shuddered to think of Alara spending any amount of time down here.