Apex

by Aer-ki Jyr

  Jalia’s lips pressed together in a thin line. This was big, bigger than big. And that amount of credits would change her life forever . . . if she survived to cash in on the deal.

  “What happened to the Morrin freighter?” she demanded.

  The Cres’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “It was the ship carrying our cargo. A squad of mercenaries boarded the ship four days ago, which we repelled and captured. When we turned them over to Gorovan security, they insisted on searching the ship for others, as well as any sabotage. We cooperated up until they demanded to search our cargo, which we staunchly refused. Then they attempted to finish what the mercenaries had begun. When they failed, they decided to destroy the ship to deny us the cargo.”

  “How?” Jalia asked.

  “We think they slipped explosives into the ship when ‘searching’ it the first time, then remotely detonated them later. Four crewmembers were killed, along with two of my ­people. The rest of us were off the ship at the time.”

  “And the firefight?”

  “After the explosion, security forces moved in and tried to pick us up. They were unable to do so.”

  “And your cargo?”

  “The priority piece was never on the ship. We hid it in the jumpship as soon as we arrived.”

  “Do they suspect?”

  The Cres tilted her head to the side. “It is possible. They may have destroyed the ship to deny us our transport. It is irrelevant at this point.”

  “It’s relevant if they come after my ship,” Jalia noted, holstering her pistol. “We have a little over twelve kips until arrival. When and how do you plan on getting this cargo here?”

  “After the bay doors open. As soon as we are aboard, we must leave. To do otherwise would invite more trouble.”

  “You can say that again,” Jalia echoed. “You plan to shoot your way through security?”

  “If we must. A clandestine transit would be preferable. Do we have a deal?”

  “Method of payment?”

  “Your preference,” the Cres offered generously.

  “Alright, I want 100 credits transferred into my crew’s accounts immediately. There are five. I won’t risk them on this gambit, which means I’ll have to strand them here. I want to make it worth their while.”

  The Cres nodded. “Easy enough.”

  “I also want 1,000 credits transferred to clan Kella, verified before we leave. The balance can be paid upon completion of the transit.”

  “Done,” the Cres agreed quickly. “Remain with your ship. We’ll come to you.”

  “How many of you are there? And how big is this cargo? I assume it’ll fit through the airlock?”

  “Five. And yes.”

  Jalia frowned. “You lost a lot in the firefight then?”

  The Cres cracked a humorless smile. “We didn’t lose anyone, save for the two on the ship when it exploded.”

  “You beat back security with five ­people?” Jalia asked, impressed.

  “Three actually,” she said, walking off. “The other two are watching the cargo.”

  Jalia let her go, suppressing a whistle of appreciation until she returned to the Resolute. Gorovan had hundreds of security personnel onboard, and while she doubted it would deploy all of them to one location, they had surely sent dozens, if not more, to the docking area. The rumored combat prowess of the Cres had not been exaggerated.

  At least I’m on the winning side, she thought, sealing the hatch behind her.

  Chapter 3

  IVARA STOOD ON the hillside in her grey cloak overlooking the lake, partially hidden beside three bushy trees. There were twelve ­people nearby, clustered in a foursome, a threesome, two pairs, and a single runner passing along a nearby dirt trail. Half of them could see her, but they didn’t notice. In their minds she was but a minor detail in their peripheral vision, easily overlooked and forgotten, and with a subtle dampening touch to their minds the Cres intended for it to stay that way.

  She was waiting patiently for the right time, though she wouldn’t feel it from here. The jumpship’s inertial dampeners were 100% effective, equalizing acceleration and deceleration forces by applying the pressure to each molecule of the jumpship and its contents simultaneously, similar to the manner in which artificial gravity, and natural gravity, accelerated a mass uniformly. Only when unequal pressure was applied was acceleration felt and damage incurred. As it was, no one on the jumpship felt the ship’s sudden deceleration into the Hellis System.

  The Vernera’s 210 gravity drives activated 118 seconds prior to arrival deep inside the star system, bleeding off a small amount of vera against the star’s gravity well while running at full power. The closer the ship came to the star the greater the gravitational pull increased, which meant the greater antigrav force the jumpship’s drives produced. More and more inertial energy, known as vera, was bled off, but only when the ship got within close proximity to the star did the repulsive power of the gravity drives escalate dramatically.

  Massive deceleration occurred within the last few seconds, all safely contained by the Vernera’s inertial dampeners. Those within the system saw the gigantic starship ‘jump’ into the system in the blink of an eye, then begin to drift out of the system at a rate of 54 keets/second. The gravity drives had applied slightly more repulsion than necessary . . . a minor mathematical error. The drives were quickly reengaged at extreme low power, enhancing the star’s gravitational pull and nulling out the excess vera.

  Inside the jumpship, on every terminal, audio speaker, and wireless channel the ship possessed, the Vernera’s arrival in the Hellis System was announced. Within the park a massive hologram appeared above the lake. A large oscillating golden symbol glowed brighter than the overhead lights, accompanied by a long musical tone, both of which persisted a number of seconds then disappeared. Many of the park’s visitors began heading for the distant exits.

  Now, Ivara ordered telepathically.

  For a long time nothing happened, but a few minutes later a small ripple appeared in the lake, far out from the shore. It grew steadily larger as it came closer to the sandy perimeter, with Ivara keeping close check on the minds of all those nearby, deflecting any notice of the disturbance, but none was needed. No one’s attention was on the water.

  That would soon change, so she had to concentrate. They weren’t going to go completely unnoticed, Cres telepathy wasn’t that powerful, but they needed to buy themselves as much time as they could to get the cargo to the Junta’s ship.

  Her fellow Cres soon rose from the lake’s surface pushing an antigravity sled. Ivara concentrated harder and pushed her mental range, creating a null zone around the cargo. Those that saw it and the Cres would not care and the image would fade from memory as soon as they were out of sight. Only focused interest could subvert the suppression effect, which meant Ivara had to head off any interest before it could build to threatening levels.

  She got a quick hit from the jogger, but was able to force his focus back on his footfalls. The other ­people nearby didn’t offer much of a problem. They were too focused on the jumpship’s arrival or mere recreation to really care about anything else. Orrona brought the cargo up the hillside and received a grey cloak from Ivara to cover her blue skin.

  ­People had been on the lookout for the Cres ever since the firefight in the docking area and having to telepathically distract each person who laid eyes on them was more of an effort than either Ivara or Orrona could bear. Hidden beneath their cloaks, and pushing a generic-­looking cargo pallet, they would draw little attention once leaving the park and merging with the city’s pedestrian traffic flow.

  Both Cres moved slowly, and took painstaking care to monitor every mind within range for a reaction to their presence, but with a few easy distractions they made it to the urban streets where the mass of ­people helped further insulate them in anonymity. They chose the most crowded ro
utes, and monitored only the minds nearest them. When they drew odd looks the mass of activity made it easy for them to divert the unwanted attention to another strand of thought, and the pair had made it halfway to the bay ring without incident when a scuffle broke out between a group of adolescent Presca and two Uria merchants.

  Ivara felt the fight coming even before it began, but the streets were so jam-­packed with exodus traffic that they couldn’t maneuver their cargo away in time. One of the Presca was knocked backwards and fell onto his ass at Orrona’s feet, knocking her legs out from under her. She fell on top of the reptilian . . . with her hood coming off her head in the process.

  First two . . . then six . . . then fifteen . . .

  More and more minds suddenly focused on her, realizing that she was Cres. Ivara focused her attention on diverting their thoughts onto Orrona and away from her and the cargo.

  Her fellow Cres understood, jumping to her feet and tossing her cloak aside. She kicked the stupid Presca who had tripped her then ran off, knocking ­people aside as she went and making as much of a decoy of herself as she could.

  The crowd’s attention followed her, nudged on by Ivara. Very slowly she began pushing the cargo sled on, just being one of the crowd and going about her business. She could feel the aura of disturbance around Orrona as she fled, taking it farther and farther away from their cargo.

  With half the escort now gone, Ivara got off onto less crowded side streets as soon as possible, taking a longer route to the docking area. She had planned seven contingency routes ahead of time, choosing now to head to a ser­vice elevator that led directly to a maintenance warehouse on the bay ring. It was as backdoor an approach as possible, but it meant going well out of her way, further delaying their departure. Given present circumstances she didn’t feel that she had much of a choice.

  Fortunately there were no more incidents on the way to the ser­vice areas. She did have to do some smooth talking when she arrived, convincing the staff on duty that she actually worked for Gorovan and the supplies that she was delivering were just a routine drop-­off.

  The workers were so bored they bought the ruse without much influence needing to be applied, and Ivara gained access to the back rooms, shoving the hoversled inside and locking the doors behind her. She let the precious cargo set and walked over and locked the second set of doors to this storage area, then returned and pushed the cargo onto the grimy elevator pad in the back. She keyed in the destination level, then set herself to the task of distracting any minds she might encounter on the two stops en route.

  The first opening down there was no one in sight, with her and the cargo passing safely on. The second opening, however, housed a group of eight dockworkers lounging about. Ivara knew from their state of mind that they were ‘at work’ but hiding in the back while the supervisor was away. They were a bit on edge, concerned that their supervisor might show up and that made them harder to distract, but the elevator passed by and down without incident.

  When they were out of sight Ivara sensed a change in one of them. She pressed hard, trying to distract the Lovarian, but the worker’s mind was already fixed on a target and she was unable to divert her attention. Soon the Cres noticed the other minds agitate with alarm and realization of who and what she was. Ivara sensed one activate a comm channel, then she released contact.

  Her cover was blown. Security would be on her position soon.

  Ivara focused her attention on the bay ring beneath her, finding the minds of her fellow Cres. She warned them to expect trouble, then felt them redeploy to more advantageous combat positions.

  Reaching out and up, Ivara searched for Orrona. Given the distance and uncertain location it took her some time to find her, but by the time the lift stopped and Ivara pushed the cargo off the pad into the dark warehouse, she had made contact and directed her to make her way to the Junta’s ship.

  Outside the warehouse on the bay ring she felt Marren arrive and deal with the locals, securing her route ahead. Ivara wasted no time, pushing the cargo through the maze of dimly lit crates and barrels and out into the front receiving area. She found four workers bound with kleesa gel lying on the floor and a male Cres standing guard over them. She shoved the antigrav sled right over the hostages and into Marren’s hands, who gripped it strongly and ran it out onto the bay ring walkway.

  Ivara glanced down at the captives and the sticky blue gel binding their hands and legs together. It would disintegrate with time, but not before she and the others were aboard the Junta’s freighter and out of the jumpship. These were no longer a hindrance, so she stepped over their wriggling bodies and gave them no further thought.

  JALIA WAS WAITING at the open airlock with a headset on when she heard the sounds of distant weaponsfire. She’d put in a request for immediate departure and was waiting back for clearance from the jumpship bay control station. There were over thirty ships in the port bay, each of which had to leave single file in a scripted movement sequence to avoid a collision with the others. While there were some empty berthing slots the bay was still mostly filled, which meant a slow, tedious exodus . . . except that most of the ships weren’t ready to leave yet.

  Their crews had been locked out of the docking area, so Jalia was hoping her ship would be put at the head of the line, or at least close to it.

  If they tagged her ship as the Cres’s means of departure she was going to be in a sticky situation. The outer bay doors were already beginning to open, which was a good sign. If they’d been really paranoid about the Cres they would have kept all the ships sealed inside to prevent any possibility of escape. Of course, that would also mean Gorovan would take flack over the delay, and it looked like the corporate overlords didn’t feel that it was worth the tradeoff.

  The weaponsfire fell silent, and Jalia hoped that was a good sign. A moment later the band that wrapped around three of her headtails and served as her earpiece opened with a comm line from bay control.

  “Resolute here,” she answered.

  “Captain Vas Kella, your ship is currently in an area of the bay ring with terrorist activity. What is your status?”

  “My ship is buttoned up and ready to go,” she said evenly. “If there’s a security problem I’d like to get out of here before I can become involved in it. What’s my slot on the departure order?”

  “You’re second in line,” control answered. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

  “I appreciate it,” she said, signing off. Now all she needed was to get the Cres onboard. What was taking them so long?

  A minute later a blur of motion entered the umbilical tunnel and resolved itself into one of the female Cres. She slowed to a walk and approached Jalia.

  “Are we set to go?”

  “Just waiting on the final word. I was afraid you weren’t going to get here in time.”

  “We had some complications,” the Cres admitted. “Gorovan security forces and a group of mercenaries tried to ambush us on the bay ring, but they have been dealt with. I’d prefer if we could leave before they try again. We’re vulnerable here if they can pinpoint our location.”

  “We’re second in line to depart,” Jalia said, her mind flashing back to the Morrin transport exploding. She did not want that happening to her ship, especially with her onboard it. “Who’s after you anyway?”

  “We have many enemies,” she said as another Cres came into view and took up a guard position next to the umbilical on the bay ring. Jalia saw him kneel outside, with only his right leg visible from her position. As he did, a large floating crate swallowed up nearly all the empty room in the umbilical, with a pair of Cres boots showing underneath.

  “How many crates?” Jalia asked as she and the female moved back out of the umbilical and into the ship to make way.

  “Just the one.”

  “This way,” Jalia said, pointing down the corridor that led to the primary c
argo bay. “We’re packed pretty tight, but there should be some spots to squeeze it in.”

  The Cres nodded and led the crate as Ivara pushed it. Jalia stayed at the umbilical and walked out to meet the crouched Cres who’d slipped back inside now that the crate was past.

  “Where are the rest of your ­people?” she asked tentatively.

  “En route,” he said simply.

  Jalia’s earpiece activated again.

  “Thank you, control,” she answered. “Is the Priia clear yet?”

  There was a slight pause as the bay control answered and Jalia circled her finger in a hurry-­up motion to the Cres. If they delayed, it would draw immediate suspicion.

  The male Cres didn’t say anything, just kept staring out into the bay ring.

  “Good,” she said, talking to the air in a voice that did not match her frustrated facial expressions. “Any lingering debris out there that I need to worry about? I saw the explosion from the promenade, looked like it sprayed junk everywhere.”

  “Forty dek,” the Cres whispered.

  Jalia nodded. “If you say so, but I’d like to exit with shields active just to be on the safe side, with your permission?”

  Another short pause.

  “Thank you, control. I’m sure you’ve had quite a day on your hands,” she said empathetically as another Cres ran into view, slipping past them and boarding the ship.

  One down . . . one to go.

  “Bet you’re going to be hitting the bars tonight,” she said, mildly joking. “Stand by to release docking clamps.”

  Jalia smiled and uttered a short, clipped high-­pitched laugh. “No kidding,” she answered. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Gorovan has been good to me.”

  Two barely audible footsteps later the last Cres sprung into view and darted into the ship. The male Cres gave the bay ring one last glance then backtracked down the umbilical with Jalia. As soon as they set foot on the Resolute again Jalia sealed the airlock and triggered the automated umbilical retraction.