by James Hanlon
Bee clapped a hand over her mouth, dropped the datapad onto her desk with a clatter, and scrambled for the bathroom. Before she could quite make it to the toilet she puked, and some of it streamed through her fingers and down her chin. The rest splashed into the water, chunky soup that stuck to the bowl. Bee dry heaved, but nothing else came up except bad memories.
She flushed the foul contents down the drain, washed her hands and face, gargled some water, and dried herself with a hand towel. Luckily she hadn’t gotten any on her uniform or in her hair. She heard Bill Silver’s deep baritone on the pad in the other room, but couldn’t make it out over the noise of the toilet.
Bee flicked on the lights. She picked up the pad again, but didn’t bother covering the camera this time; he’d already seen her, what did it matter? She peered into the small display. Silver had set his pad down on a metal countertop. He had his back turned to the camera, and seemed to be engaged in a conversation with himself as he chopped a bulbous green vegetable of some kind on a cutting board.
Bee took the opportunity to study the man and his surroundings. It looked like a ship’s kitchen—from this angle she could see stars just beyond a round window in the wall. Silver had a white apron tied around the great girth of his belly, and Bee noted with some curiosity that his left hand appeared to be bionic. She saw glints of metal shine off the hand in the artificial light of the kitchen. He used his real hand to cut.
The kitchen itself was clean and organized, with spices, herbs, and other ingredients arranged in neat rows behind glass cupboard doors. Silver lifted the cutting board and slid the edge of his knife across it, sending the diced vegetables tumbling into a large tub, and glanced over his shoulder at his datapad’s screen.
“Ah,” he said. “The bold bounty huntress returns.”
Bee’s ears burned at the jab. “So, Slack Dog got blown up for a treasure map,” she snapped, and saw Silver flinch. She regretted her sharp words.
“Yes, back to business. The long-lost treasure of the space pirate—well, I’d better not say it,” he said with a grin and another glance at the camera. “Of course you must know the story. You can’t live in Overlook City without hearing about him.”
So he did know where she was—of course. He probably knew which hotel Slack Dog would be staying at if they were supposed to meet. The thought that he knew her location made her uneasy. He’d revealed it on purpose, she was sure.
“I grew up there too,” he said, and took on a reflective tone. “Spent most of my young days on Surface. Best times of my life.”
“The map,” she said. Her voice was quiet.
“Of course,” Silver said. “It’s an encoded list of coordinates. Dreadstar’s crew spent months spreading their stolen goods across a vast, complicated network of asteroids in the belt. But before they could finish, some members of the crew mutinied. No one knows which asteroids are filled with loot and which ones are just rock, ice, and ore. Total chaos out there. However, we do know the orbits of many asteroids have been, ah, bumped, shall we say, which is very common, of course, due to illegal mining operations and the like—unavoidable, unpoliceable, that kind of thing out there—”
Bee’s heart started pounding as Bill Silver continued to elaborate on the significance of the map, and she couldn’t concentrate. His voice droned out and her ears started ringing. Why was she still talking to him? He was right up there, probably parked at Overlook Station. What if he already had more men on the way to get this treasure map and he was just stalling her?
“Hey, little bounty hunter,” Silver snapped. “Don’t you see?”
“See what?” she said.
“You’re holding the map,” Silver said. “Well, a copy of it.”
Bee looked at the datapad, confused. Silver’s impatient face scowled back at her. She asked, “If it’s so valuable why are you telling me all this?”
“You have it. I want it. No need to involve anyone else.”
“Whoa whoa, I am in no way involved here. Why don’t you just come down here and get it?”
“That wasn’t the plan. Slack Dog was supposed to bring it to me this afternoon. Things always work better when you stick to the plan,” Silver said. “And besides, you can scurry it up to me just as well as he could have.”
Bee laughed. “Yeah, except that he was killed by a bomb because he was carrying this map of yours. Jensen Lee is still out there, you know, and if this is what he’s after—”
“Jensen Lee thinks he destroyed it. Slack Dog wasn’t the real target, the map was. I know for a fact a backup copy was saved on that datapad. Come on, it’s easy money. You’ll have plenty to spend during the Festival. Have you not got any steel inside you at all? You just scared?”
Bee straightened her spine and glared into the screen.
“No, I’m not scared. But for one thing, I don’t trust you.”
“So you’re not empty-headed, that’s a start.”
“And for another, why should I risk my life for you when I could just take this to the police and be done with it?”
“The police?” he sputtered.
Now she had his attention.
“Well, it is evidence,” she said. “Actually, it seems like it’d be illegal not to turn it in.”
“You don’t want to do that, girl,” he said. There was a growl of anger in his voice. He used his robotic left hand to clean the knife, rubbing the rough fabric of his apron against the blade with dexterous metal fingers.
“I really do.” Bee said. “Why should I get involved?”
Silver put away the knife and wiped his hands with the apron—first the dark metallic one with its eerily natural movements, then his real hand. He seemed to reconsider his approach and shrugged. “Fine. I can see your point. Go ahead, take it to the police. They’ll be looking for it after I report it stolen.”
“I told you I didn’t steal it,” Bee said with a snarl. “Your slobbering drunk accomplice left it sitting on the bar before he went up to his room and passed out with the door open. I was trying to give it back to him, which is the only reason I’m talking to you. Asshole. I’ve got people who trust me here, okay, so don’t think you can just go making accusations like that and expect them to hold up.”
Silver waved away her indignant bluster. “Fine, fine. I can see you’re just a daft girl who doesn’t know a good offer when you see one. Absolutely no ambition, no drive at all. I can see it. In this world, you’ve got to reach out and take things. Enjoy your lot in life, girl, because you’ll only ever amount to what you’re given.”
She didn’t like the derisive inflection he used when he said girl. Her eyes flashed with anger.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“With enough money you can fuel any ambition you’ve got. And I can pay you a whole lot of money for that map. But since you don’t want it I’ll have to find someone else.”
“I notice you still haven’t given me a price.”
“A thousand credits,” he barked. “Five hundred up front.”
Bee’s heart jumped. It would take years for her to save that much. It was enough to make it all the way to the belt—and on a decent ship, too. In the back of her mind she thought she heard Mother’s familiar whisper. She kept her expression flat, suspecting Silver may be lowballing her based on her age. If it was worth as much as he said it was he’d be willing to pay.
“One thousand now,” she said. “And another thousand after.”
“Seven-fifty before and after.”
“One thousand or I walk.”
Silver balked and squinted at her, but she kept a thin-lipped silence until he rumbled his acquiescence: “Fine.”
Chapter 5: Commission
A thunderous knock at the door made Bee jump and she ended the call with Silver.
“Police,” a muffled male voice said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Okay, sorry,” she said. “Coming out.”
She’d have to call Silver back. She sw
iped the screen on the little pad to activate it, but it prompted her for a four-digit pin—no way to verify Silver’s claims. Bee stuck it in her pocket and changed out of her uniform’s top. It occurred to her that she didn’t really know how she would get her money. Some kind of transfer? Panic bubbled up in her chest—she was flying blind, way out of her league.
More pounding on the door. “Let’s go! Waiting on you here!”
She wriggled into a thick long-sleeved shirt. “Coming out!”
Bee grabbed her pack from its spot next to the door and slung it over her shoulder. She lingered a moment to look back over her room. The bed was made, its sheets arranged just the way Hargrove taught her. Nothing cluttered the bare desk. Already prepared for another guest. Bee turned the door handle.
“Sorry,” she said as she squeezed by the two officers.
Her pack had everything she needed already—a habit she’d picked up long ago in preparation for the day she found Mother’s killer. She wasn’t sure if she’d tell Hargrove about the map yet, or Silver’s offer, but she knew she had to at least say goodbye before she left. He’d worry if he noticed her missing. She might be gone for hours and didn’t want him calling her later at some inconvenient moment. Just then Slack Dog’s pad went off in her pocket again. She hurried the rest of the way down the hall and answered it as she opened the door to the stairwell.
Silver’s face appeared on the screen. “So far I’ve found working with you extremely unprofessional.”
“Yeah, sorry I hung up on you. But I never claimed to be a professional,” Bee said, her voice echoing off the walls.
“Well do you want your half up front or not? I don’t like waiting.”
“How will you pay me?”
“Go to the Rising Star Bank on inner Fifth,” he said. “Just walk in, ask for Julissa—remember that: Julissa—and tell her you’re interested in opening a new account. Mention my name. Julissa will take care of the rest.”
“Okay, I know where it is,” Bee said.
“Good. I’ll call again when it goes through.”
Silver hung up. Bee pocketed the device again and continued downstairs. The Rising Star Bank on Fifth was only a five-minute walk from the hotel, but she still had to track down Hargrove.
Upon reaching the bottom floor she opened the door and walked into the empty lobby. She was used to seeing it like this during the night shifts, but even then someone was always behind the front desk. Now in the middle of the day, no one.
Bee heard a thump and a yell from Hargrove’s office. She edged her way around the front desk so she could peek through the blinds. Hargrove sat inside at his computer. He pounded a fist against the desk and ran his other hand back through his thick hair in frustration.
She tapped her fingers against the glass and Hargrove flinched. He turned and glared through the window but softened when he saw Bee. She opened the door and stepped in, shut it behind her.
“Just trying to chip away at these endless incident reports,” he said, waving a hand at the computer. “But this piece of junk machine—!”
“Let me see,” she said, and Hargrove scooted off to the side in his rolling chair. He had about a thousand windows open. The man truly had a talent for making computers suffer. Bee closed some of the programs gumming up the ancient machine’s dwindling memory, but stopped when she saw a news window about the bombing. A photo of Jensen Lee stared at her from the screen.
“They find him yet?”
“Not yet.”
“They know why he did it?”
“Could be someone was trying to send a message. They’ve been coming closer to the Core every year.” Hargrove noticed her pack and poked it. “You going somewhere?”
She closed a few more extra programs and stepped away.
“Yeah,” Bee said. “Yeah, just for a little while. I’ll be back by tonight.”
Hargrove scowled. “Jensen Lee may know you’re the one who tipped the police off. I need you safe, little worker Bee.”
Bee smiled at the nickname. “The streets are crawling with police right now. If he’s still in the city he won’t be looking for me. And besides, he didn’t look too bright.”
Her joke didn’t even crack Hargrove’s grim mask.
“I figured you would stay in like every other night in your life.”
“I’ll be back tonight,” she said.
Bee stung with shame at lying to him, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. She could see he’d never let her go in peace. Her lame excuse hung in the air as Hargrove searched her face.
“Okay,” he said.
He turned back to his forms.
***
“Look here please,” said Julissa, a plump middle-aged woman with shimmering pink lipstick. She pointed to a biometric scanner on the desk.
Red light flashed across Bee’s eyes and her information immediately popped up on Julissa’s display. She looked maybe fifteen in the photo, thin as a rail and glaring at the camera. She never liked having her picture taken.
“Lovely,” Julissa said. “We’ll have your account open in just a moment, that’s the easy part. Then you can deposit any funds you obtain into your account. That’s the part people tend to have trouble with.”
Bee laughed since Julissa seemed to be looking for one.
“I do have a customer already,” Bee began, unsure what to say. “He wants to pay me up front for the month today, but I don’t have his number.”
“What about his name?”
“Yeah, it’s Bill Silver.”
“Oh, you’re Mister Silver’s associate.” Julissa’s green eyes flared with excitement. “He’s already cleared the funds to be transferred. Just let me take care of that.”
Mister Silver. He commanded respect from this woman. Bee wondered who he really was. Julissa turned the projected screen out of Bee’s line of sight and tapped away at the keyboard, issuing a flurry of commands in quick succession.
“All set,” Julissa said brightly as she swiveled the screen back with practiced precision.
Bee struggled to contain her joy when she saw the balance.
***
After leaving the bank, Bee hung a right onto Gateway Street and headed to the heart of the city. The gate station was the city’s only path between Surface and Overlook Station. There were dozens of other cities on their planet equipped with similar gates, and each could be reached in an instant from any gate station. Instant travel between the planets was possible with the proper equipment, but there were no interplanetary gates left after they’d been destroyed during the rebellion.
There were several remaining gates between the planets that shortened the distance between them but the majority of the journey had to be made in sleek nullsteel ships. She knew at one point there were incredibly powerful gates that could even bridge the gaps between stars, but the only one in the system had been destroyed in the Interstellar Revolution along with most of the interplanetary gates.
Decades of work went into those machines, and in a few instants of violence they were rendered totally useless. Scrap metal. People said back when it was just Sol, before any of the other systems had been settled, great scientists discovered how to stabilize and manipulate infinitesimally tiny wormholes that randomly appeared and disappeared in space.
They started very small—just enough to see through to the other side—and gradually the technology improved. Locations were charted, equations were written, and before long there was a database of locations all across the universe that they could observe from afar.
The next big breakthrough was the discovery of wormholes that opened near other Earthlike planets. By the time that happened the technology had improved to the point that the wormholes could be expanded wide enough and held open long enough to send matter through. They sent through drones and materials to build a sister gate to open the two points permanently, and humanity thus began its expansion across the so-called “infinite frontier.” Colony ships were ferried through, easin
g the massive burden of human life on Mother Sol. It was the Golden Age of Expansion.
But in order for it to be properly considered a golden age, it had to end. Eventually the supply lines stretched far across the Milky Way, shipping valuable resources back to hungry Mother Sol and her closest colonies. It became unsustainable. Some settlements that would have otherwise been self-sufficient were forced to send so much they barely had enough for themselves. They attempted to use the proper bureaucratic channels, but Earth was far and the settlements had such distant voices.
Several colonized star systems revolted against Sol, having seen that they needed to act quickly to secure their futures. The crucial objective of each rebel cell was to take down the interstellar gate in each system—they were ludicrously expensive, and each system had only one at most. It was the perfect Goliath for the underdog resistance, so their first task became finding some good stones to throw.
As largely a confederation of laborers—miners, farmers, dock workers—they used what tools they had at their disposal. Asteroid wranglers supplied ammunition while others cobbled together slings made up of industrial-grade antigravity equipment. Biding their time, keeping to the shadows, the resistance seeded the asteroid belt with dozens of these gigantic gravity slingshots. And when the time was right, they started throwing stones.
The first system to successfully cut itself off by destroying its own gate was Bee’s, the Luxar System. The system's interstellar gate had been built between Surface and the asteroid belt, and they never saw the first few shots coming. The initial barrage was partially destroyed by the planet’s orbital defenses; the gate was damaged and disabled, but it was far from beyond repair.
The Fleet stationed in the system took defensive measures to prevent more asteroids from being slung at them, but the rebels assaulted the gate in full force before reinforcements could be rallied. With the rebels engaging their warships and asteroids being flung at the gate, the Interstellar Fleet was kept busy long enough for another shot to get through—and the gate was smashed for good.