by Sean Danker
He paused for a moment, then started moving again. “Oh, of course. Private Salmagard, you didn’t tell me you’d had contact with this man.”
“I can’t see what you’re looking at,” she said weakly. “So I could hardly comment.”
“Hmm. All right, I’ve got our buyer’s real name. Let’s see who he is.”
Diana and Salmagard watched Price as he read things they couldn’t see and spoke to people they couldn’t hear.
“Okay, so he’s nobody. So who’s he work for?” Price demanded, nearly shouting. He touched his ear. “Got anything? He’s from the Montoya system. Check those cartels. Clean? How can he be clean? He just bought two unregistered slaves. That’s not any kind of clean I ever heard of, Tom. Get me something on this guy—every minute we lose, that fish is swimming. This guy with no name is a big one.” He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together restlessly, returning to the present. He turned on them. “All right, you two. We’re going to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” Diana asked, suspicious.
“We’re on high alert. I have no one to spare. I shouldn’t even be here now. You said you wanted to go after these guys, right? Get them back? That is what you said, isn’t it?”
“Damn right,” Diana said.
“You’re former Service. And you—you’re active. What if I said you could go? What would you say?”
“Yes,” Salmagard said, worrying she was about to throw up.
“You could get in there and intervene, buy time for the GRs to catch up. You two have made a hell of a mess, but if you help bring this guy in, you can come out of this on top instead of ruined. Get me? Yes, I read. What have you got? Okay, so he’s not on our radar. Check every association, every flag, every system, every agency, every database. We need to know where he’s going—he’s got some precious cargo.” Price was shouting again.
Salmagard had to get up. She went to the far wall and leaned on it, taking deep breaths. Diana appeared beside her, concerned.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing Salmagard’s back. “He’s going to come through for us.”
“He’s what?” Price yelled.
They both jumped at Price’s outburst, turning around.
“By the Empress,” he said, the blood draining from his face.
“What? What is it?” Salmagard asked, swallowing. “Who’s got them?”
19
“CYRIL,” the man in black said, stepping forward. “My name’s Cyril. Now, don’t look like that.”
Sei and I had both tensed. We didn’t move, but he was coming toward us, making a show of not looking threatening.
He paused, frowning. “Are those my clothes?”
Sei and I glanced down at ourselves.
“Could be,” I said. “Do you live in a big house behind those trees?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Cyril’s eyes narrowed—but only for a moment. He seemed to deflate a little. “But I can understand why you wanted to get dressed. I imagine the two of you must be feeling a bit disoriented, but I’m glad to see you seem to have found your feet. May I ask who woke you up?”
“No one,” I replied. “The sleeper malfunctioned.”
Cyril winced. “That’s embarrassing. We’ll have to make the best of it. Welcome to my parish, gentlemen. It’s your new home.”
“I don’t think so,” I stated bluntly. Balance was needed here. Aggression—but not abrasion, if we could help it. This was a delicate situation.
“Sir, we were abducted and sold against our will,” I told Cyril. “Though you must’ve paid for us, you haven’t actually got any legal claim. That’s why you don’t have any official documentation. Anything you do have is fake, fabricated by the people that took us. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to let us go and put in a claim with the Bazaar for your money. We’re imperial subjects, and holding us is in violation of basically everybody’s laws. If you’re reasonable here and now, you can avoid the worst of it.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Cyril said, looking taken aback. “Slow down. That’s—that’s quite a story. I should tell you that though you were acquired on my instructions, I wasn’t the one to buy you, and I certainly had no idea you were undocumented. My understanding was that you’re on open contract, tier-one service. This is disturbing. Let’s sit.” He perched on one of the wooden benches and gestured for us to do the same.
Sei and I moved to stand over him. We needed to keep the upper hand here. I’d have to try to let my behavior make up for my appearance. In the dark, I probably looked more scary than sickly. We could use that.
Cyril swallowed.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He blinked. A moment passed. “Well, that’s difficult to state precisely without the exact numbers in front of me,” Cyril said slowly. “But we’re in unregulated space.”
Sei and I exchanged a look. That wasn’t good. Conventional laws wouldn’t apply if Cyril was telling the truth about that. That didn’t mean he had no obligation to treat us fairly, but it didn’t work in our favor. It stacked things against us. He went on.
“Past the Free Trade curvature on the Kakugo side.” Not New Earth, then.
“I didn’t know there was a Terra type out here,” I said, frowning. “Not that I would, I suppose.”
Cyril’s expression flickered. “Look, I can see you’re both very single-minded right now, and I promise you that I—well, at the very least I think that I can understand your distress,” he said, searching our faces. “But I’m afraid if what you say is true, you’re in for some inconvenience.” He pointed toward the doors, his eyes still on our faces. “As I’m sure you saw out there, there’s no spaceport here. We can’t just send you on your way. We’re quite isolated. We don’t even have long-range communications. Now, once I review the documents associated with your purchase and speak with the man I asked to do the buying—if we can confirm your story, of course—I will see to it that you have berths on the next supply ship. But if you’re asking me to snap my fingers and spirit you away, I’m afraid that’s just not possible. I’m just the pastor, boys—I don’t actually do the miracles.”
He looked genuinely sympathetic. “In the meantime, if you’re not in servitude, you’ll be guests. And I don’t think you’ll mind so much; this is not a difficult community to live in.”
“If you’re so friendly,” Sei said, “why are you buying people?”
Cyril got to his feet, appearing to choose his words carefully. “As I said before, this is a very isolated community. There are things we need that demand assistance from outside. Something our people are incapable of providing.” Cyril sighed. He was careful not to make any sudden movements. “This is difficult to explain, especially because I don’t know if I have lawful authority over you or not, but honesty’s always the best policy. Look, our community is—as I’m sure you can see—a bit eccentric about certain things. Not everyone sees us in a positive light. In fact, I’d guess most people out there look at us in a negative one.”
“What are you?” I asked bluntly.
“Just people looking for answers,” Cyril said, spreading his arms. “Spiritual answers.”
“What do you need us for?”
“DNA,” he replied immediately. “Use your eyes. It’s a small community. Fewer than two hundred of us in all. When it comes to making deposits to the gene bank, who better than imperials?”
“Are you talking about the old-fashioned way, or do you have a clinic hidden here somewhere?”
Cyril fidgeted a little. “The old-fashioned way.”
Sei and I exchanged a look. Sei snorted.
“Our public image doesn’t make this easy,” Cyril went on. “People are not very trusting of groups like ours. But once they get to know us, see it from the inside, they actually tend to be rather impressed. It’s not the most elegant route, but we need w
hat we need. This life isn’t for everyone, but it does have a strong allure to those who feel downtrodden by galactic society at large.”
His gaze flicked between us, settling on me.
“Whether you’ll be staying here for the duration of your contract or returned if you’re here wrongfully, you will be here for a short period of time. Ten days at least. Let me show you around. Tell you about what we believe. It’ll help to see us up close. I’m sure that’ll put you at ease. With a story like yours, I can believe you’d be suspicious.”
“Give us a second,” I told him, stepping away with Sei.
“What do you think of him?” Sei asked quietly, glancing at Cyril.
“I think he has an answer for everything. But he’s a spiritual leader, so that’s his job. Doesn’t make him a bad guy.” I rubbed my chin. “He’s right, though. We aren’t going anywhere by ourselves. We could knock him out and make a run for it, but where are we going? It’ll be dark soon, and it won’t get any warmer. We don’t have any supplies, and these people know the land and have transportation. We’d just be wasting our time. I’m in no condition to commit to running. At least, not a very long run.”
“This is the part where we build trust, right?”
“Hardly. I tipped our hand. They know we don’t want to be here. They won’t let their guard down.”
We returned to Cyril.
“Sure,” I said. “Show us around. But let’s make it a priority to get this cleared up. You don’t want us to think you’re stalling.” I could’ve put on the facade of a meeker, more cooperative individual, but Cyril was already suspicious of us because of our unscheduled wake-up. It was better to go with a more believable persona. “We can’t be at ease until we know where we stand. We’ve been kidnapped, and it has been a long day. I need you to appreciate how serious this is. We were kidnapped. Look at him.” I glanced toward Sei, whose eye was still black from Willis’ punch.
“Of course,” Cyril replied, nodding. “You’d have every right to be upset, but I hope you’ll make the best of it.”
“We’ve spent the last day being dragged around and mistreated by criminals. If spending a few nights with you guys is the worst we’ve got waiting for us, we’ll manage,” Sei said.
Cyril looked grateful. “Thank you.” He put out his hand. “Welcome to our community. Whether your stay is long or short, we’re all friends here.”
We both shook his hand.
Cyril led us out of the dark sanctuary and into the gathering evening. The sky had cleared up a little, and we could hear the big black birds cawing. He ambled off toward the road, looking completely at peace. Under different circumstances, this would’ve been nice.
We followed.
“What’s the theme here? Some kind of Judeo-Christian thing?” I asked.
Cyril shook his head. “No, but I can see why you’d think so,” he said, glancing back at the church. “Our community isn’t really about a particular belief, so to speak. It’s about exploring our beliefs. We investigate the notion that reality is more layered than our senses allow us to perceive. That there are things out there that we can’t see or touch, but that are seeing us and touching us all the time, to put it simply.”
“Of course there are. They’re called microorganisms,” I said.
Cyril smiled. “A similar concept.” He stopped and pointed up, making it a grand gesture. “Space. The great infinity. Are the two of you reasonably well-traveled?”
“Reasonably,” Sei replied.
“Then you know there are a lot of strange things out there.”
“Of course.”
“A lot of it we can explain,” Cyril said, beginning to walk again. “Some of it we can’t. There are signals, impulses, particles, and even organisms, microorganisms, that we do not understand. Signals with no origin that can only be picked up under specific circumstances. I’m not suggesting anything fantastical, mind you,” he said, giving us a look. “Everything seems fantastical before it is explained. Then it becomes commonplace. Let’s just say that some of us infer greater meaning in some of these phenomena than others.”
“That’s a little vague.”
“It’s a complex subject,” Cyril admitted. “Not easy to talk about to strangers. You’ve no doubt noticed our quaint little stylings?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you think we do this?”
“Because your spiritual doctrine frowns on modern technology?”
“No,” Cyril replied. “We have no doctrine. Well, no hard-and-fast doctrine. Admittedly, this aesthetic has a certain symbolic value with relation to the founder of our beliefs, but it’s really just a mental exercise. A form of therapy. You see, gentlemen, topics like existence, reality, and cosmic truth require a certain frame of mind to effectively explore. The purpose of this isolated environment is to cultivate that state of mind. We’ve adopted a lifestyle that massages the mind to its most flexible and receptive state. You’re imperials. May I ask what you do, if you aren’t really indentured servants?”
“I’m a pilot,” Sei said.
“Stressful work,” Cyril said. “When you go home at night, do you have the mental energy to think about the nature of the universe?”
Sei seemed taken aback by the question. “Not usually,” he admitted.
“Just so. Our views are considered controversial, all the more so because among us are some noted men and women of science who are dedicated to proving the truth through purely quantifiable means. We can talk about mysterious things until the sun sets, but someone’s got to get in there and try to figure out what’s really going on.”
“Is it your approach or your findings that get you into trouble?” I asked plainly.
“Both,” Cyril replied. “People have a very narrow view of existence. That we are real, and that everything that can’t be mapped isn’t. That we exist in certain dimensions, which are large, possibly infinite, filled with planets filled with organisms that might differ from us biologically, but still fit more or less the same definition of life.”
“Sounds about right.”
“They don’t like to hear that life, as such, isn’t as rigid a label as they believe.”
“You’re starting to lose me.”
“Forgive me,” Cyril said, rolling down his sleeves and buttoning his cuffs.
We were nearly in the village now. A vehicle rolled past with barely a whisper. It definitely didn’t have a real combustion engine.
There were people on little walkways that flanked the road, and lights in the windows. There was no proper white light; it was all yellowish and very warm-looking. Bricks. Masonry. Wood. Metal.
Very little polymer and plastic.
“And here we are. It’s time for you boys to meet our fair village. You’re going to like it.” Cyril grinned over his shoulder at us. “Trust me.”
20
THE noise was incredible.
Price was walking so fast that Diana and Salmagard had to jog to keep up. He had a dampening field active so he could talk to his colleagues and handlers as he moved, but it was only protecting him, no one else.
They were on a walkway a hundred meters over a large dry dock. Below, repairs and maintenance were being performed on a huge pleasure yacht that was all blue and gray, with sweeping wings and lines, and openings—openings normally covered by force screens. It was the sort of spectacular ship that you saw in dramas, belonging to wealthy celebrities and powerful villains.
“Here. Here,” Price said suddenly, grimacing at the noise. He pointed to a hatch leading to a break room. “Get in there.”
Once Price had learned the apparent value of the Admiral, things had begun to move very quickly. Diana and Salmagard had been in a persistent state of confusion ever since. Diana might have gained some initiative in the interrogation room, but Price had since taken it back.
/> The two of them entered the small room, and the door slid shut behind them, leaving Price on the other side.
“What the hell?” Diana demanded. She went to the window and looked through, but Price spotted her and waved her away. The room kept out some of the noise, but not all.
Diana scowled and started to pace. “Your boyfriend is in trouble,” she said to Salmagard, who just nodded miserably. “But there’s no choice. You get that, right?”
She nodded again.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“How serious it was? Look at him—look at them. They’re panicking. Is he a terrorist? Is he New Unity?”
Salmagard opened her mouth, but the hatch hissed open and Price came through, sealing it behind him and putting a cube on the table. It was a secure communication device.
“Look smart,” he said sharply, and Diana and Salmagard instinctively went to attention, despite the fact that they were not in uniform. Diana was no longer in the Service, but no one could just turn it off.
A hologram appeared with a waiting symbol. Price bit his thumbnail and leaned against the bulkhead. He noticed the window, scowled, and switched it to opaque.
A man’s face appeared, projected over the table. This was a secure communication, and both Diana and Salmagard recognized him.
This was Dashiell Sirpras, deputy head of Evagardian Intelligence.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. Salmagard started to sweat. There were few people in the Empire with more power than this man. He was bigger than a general or an admiral. Bigger than a Tetrarch.
“This situation’s developing fast. I don’t have all the details—but it seems like we have a confirmed lead on this individual, and the two of you are in the best position to get him for us. Is that right, Price?”
“I’ve got field agents, but pulling them while we’re at this alert level could be costly. It could expose us, sir. We still don’t know what the target is.”