Storm Divers (Book 1 of The Fractured Republic Saga)

by Terry Mixon

  Maybe he should’ve gone groupie surfing like Jason had. It had been too long. He finally took a knockout pill and let the darkness take him under.

  * * * * *

  It took Rachel longer than she’d have preferred to access the guest services network. Their security really was top-notch. Once she did, the first place she went was the registration log. A quick search located Zane’s entry.

  It said he’d failed to check in, but something looked a little off. Normally, this kind of place charged the guest who failed to show up, but this time they hadn’t. Or rather, they had and then they’d refunded the money.

  Even if he’d been on RIS business, that shouldn’t have happened. Could the hotel have lied about it? What did they have to gain by doing so?

  She sat back and considered her options. She needed more information.

  The entry indicated what room the hotel had assigned to Zane. In this case, it was a suite. It had been months since he’d supposedly arrived. If he had actually checked in, he might have left some trace of his presence. It was a slim hope, but not an empty one.

  The suite had a single guest. That complicated matters, but she’d crept past sleeping people before. She’d never searched a place thoroughly under those circumstances, though. This was going to take some finesse.

  First, she needed to get in.

  Her access to the front desk comps was sufficient to add her retinal pattern to the guest list for the suite. She’d scrub it back out once she’d finished.

  Rachel extracted herself from the registration system, erasing her tracks from the logs. A dedicated security sweep might find traces of her activity, but that would mean she’d already blown it big time.

  This was crossing the line, and she knew it. She wasn’t on a mission, so this would be a real crime. As if hacking the hotel comps wasn’t. If they caught her, she’d face detention. Maybe the RIS would intervene. Maybe not.

  But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let her partner down. If that meant breaking every rule in the book, so be it.

  It only took a moment to grab the gear she’d need on the intrusion. She hoped it wasn’t necessary, but she stashed her pistol in a concealed holster at the small of her back, next to a compact shocker.

  There were few guests up and about at this hour. She took the stairs up to the higher levels. The gravity dropped until it was almost Mars normal. Whoever was here had money to burn. Particularly since the hotel had jacked the rates for that sporting event.

  The small camera over the target doorway noted her presence, verified her retinal pattern, and unlocked the door. It opened silently at her touch. Rachel slipped inside and closed it again using all due care.

  The suite was larger than her room by a significant margin. Zane had really splurged to get a place like this. It had three bedrooms, a large common area, and a real kitchen. Probably stocked with all kinds of good stuff. Pretty fancy for just one person.

  Zane had trained her, so she knew where he’d stash anything he wanted concealed while in a strange place. He wouldn’t want the cleaning staff to find his kit.

  He’d most likely use the air vents. On a station like this, there’d be lots of them. She’d have to search them all, but the areas where the current guests weren’t sleeping would be a good place to start.

  She checked at the various doors and figured out which room had the guest. Then she moved on to the unoccupied ones.

  With a sleeping person so near, she had to be careful not to make any noise. She took the precaution of putting a proximity sensor on the doorway to the occupied room. If the guest started moving around, she’d get a warning in her earbud.

  There was nothing in the air vents in the unoccupied rooms. A scan for fingerprints found more than a few, but not Zane’s. The kitchen was a bust, too. Though, she did admit the food made her mouth water.

  Maybe she’d steal a sandwich before she departed. That wouldn’t add much to her sentence if security busted her.

  Well, she’d have to take a more calculated risk and search the occupied room. That presented a lot more danger, but she could do it.

  The earbud beeped at her. The guest was up.

  Rachel killed her hand light and slipped back into the bedroom she’d just searched. The guest walked over to the bar, picked up the bottle sitting on top, and headed out into the hall.

  That was odd. Where would they be going at this hour? A late date? Did she have time to toss the main bedroom while they were out? She hoped so.

  She recovered the sensor from the doorway and slipped into the darkened room. The vent would be on the left side of the bed.

  Rachel took the collapsible stool she’d been using and headed over there, using her feet to feel for obstacles. If the guest was a man, he might have left his shoes beside the bed. And she found them. Messy bastard.

  She’d just started undoing the vent when a male-sounding grunt from the bed told her she wasn’t alone.

  Dammit. She’d been sloppy. Either the guest had snuck someone else into the room or he’d had a late-night friend come over. If he turned the lights on, it would be an ugly scene.

  Rachel dropped to the floor and hugged the bottom of the bed just before the lamp came on. She could see bare male feet stumbling toward the bathroom. He didn’t bother closing the door before stinking up the air.

  It was risky, but she had a very brief window to act. She jumped back onto the stool and removed the vent cover as quietly as she could. Damn it. There was nothing there but dust bunnies.

  If her partner had left anything behind, it would be in the bathroom. The now contaminated bathroom.

  She put the cover back into place and slipped into the closet as even worse sounds began coming from the bathroom. This was going to be fabulous.

  As she was closing the sliding door, she spotted the man’s wallet on the dresser, just within arm’s reach. She snagged it and gave it a quick search.

  Just her luck. It was Mister Fingers. Or, as his Republican ID card said, Damalis Stavros of Biros Dome. Annoyingly, his image actually looked like him.

  Hers looked as though the bored woman at the bureau had waited until she blinked to snap the shot. She’d considered taking her own and forging herself a new ID, but that might be awkward to explain.

  The wallet was empty of cash and credit chips. She doubted the man went anywhere without piles of money, so Rachel suspected he’d leased a woman for the night and that she’d robbed him blind.

  The thought amused her. Rachel had worn gloves, so there’d be no identifying fingerprints for security to scan. She’d need to scrub the access logs so they didn’t come looking for her, but she’d already planned to do that.

  She put the wallet back in place as the man flushed. With the closet closed, he wouldn’t see her there. Caution made her slide back behind the hung clothes where the luggage hid her legs. Even if he opened the door, she’d be out of plain sight. Mostly.

  He came out of the bathroom and muttered something unintelligible. Perhaps he’d just noticed that his companion had departed. That could be good or bad.

  She heard him curse and stomp toward the dresser. He must be after his wallet. The cursing went up significantly in volume. He knew the woman had robbed him.

  Rachel didn’t object to any of that, but she’d have rather he figured it out the next morning. The question now was whether he’d go to security now or wait.

  The door to the closet slid open, and he grabbed a suit from the hanger right in front of her face. She had just enough time to lean to the right before he created an opening.

  She took calming breaths as he dressed. Slow and deep. Trying to ignore the stench from the bathroom.

  If he called security to come here, she’d have to knock him out, and that would set events in motion. She’d rather avoid that kind of attention. Her only hope was that Mister Fingers seemed the kind of man who loved to go yell at people where others could listen in.

  If so, he’d go to the front desk and
create a humiliating scene for the poor bastard on duty. She could only hope he ran true to form.

  Her luck turned good, and she heard him leaving the suite. Once she was sure he wasn’t coming back for something, she came out of the closet and headed for the bathroom. The clock was running down, and she only had a few minutes left.

  The smell was nauseating, but she couldn’t turn on a vent or spray any freshener. Someone might notice. The foul air made her eyes water.

  The tub seemed big enough for her to swim in. Well, to do laps, at least. The shower had multiple heads and was probably divine. She was jealous.

  Rachel pulled the cover off the vent, and her breath caught. A kit just like hers sat there. Zane had made it to the hotel. Someone had erased the record of his arrival and lied to security about it.

  She took the kit and put everything back the way she’d found it. Once she’d made a quick pass to verify nothing was out of place, she started for the door and stopped by the bar. Since security would blame it on someone else, she might as well get some of the good stuff.

  Most of the bottles inside the cabinet were small and sourced locally, but she found an imported red wine in the back. She also grabbed the expensive single malt beside it.

  That might make for a decent peace offering, if she had to make nice with Hale. This was going to cost Mister Fingers a pretty penny when the bill came due. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

  She took a chance by raiding the refrigerator for some of the high-class meats and cheeses. They would go very nicely with the booze while she sifted through Zane’s kit. A handy canvas bag with the hotel logo held the bottles, food, and a loaf of nice bread for her.

  Rachel slipped out of the suite and headed for the stairs. She made it just as the elevator doors slid open, and she ducked inside the doorway, pulling the door almost closed as Mister Fingers followed a harried-looking security man down the hall.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have taken as much time as she had, but it had worked out. This time.

  Once she’d gotten back to her room, a few minutes’ work erased all electronic evidence of her visit to Mister Fingers’ suite. The camera above the door didn’t record images. It only provided room access, so she was safe there.

  The hotel entrance would provide an image of the prostitute the man had brought in for the evening. She’d take the hit for the booze and food, which wasn’t fair, but Rachel didn’t feel too bad framing a thief for robbery. Well, technically burglary, but close enough. It was certainly a grand theft.

  She set the kit on the coffee table while she ate a sandwich made from that divine food. The implications of this situation had changed. There was a cover-up going on. She’d have to be a lot more careful in how she approached finding her partner.

  Logically, the next thing she should do is report the change in status to her boss, but she wanted to get a better feel for what was going on first. Something smelled. Zane had come here without telling them the truth, and she trusted his judgment.

  For now, she’d keep this to herself.

  Chapter Four

  Adam woke with a stab of pain between his eyebrows. Knockout pills did that to him. He took a pill for the pain and another to sober him up. He didn’t need the slightest trace of alcohol in his system today. Storm diving could kill him without any help.

  Some of his friends on the construction crew asked why he did such crazy shit. He really didn’t know how to answer the question. Honestly, it was the only time he felt alive anymore.

  The money Janus paid for the technology he and others developed was a factor, too. That was why they tacitly allowed the divers to do their thing. What they did with it, he had no idea.

  In any case, if he made it deeper or faster, safer or easier, the corporation was happy to deposit large sums of cash into his account. The videos from the dive would generate a lot of attention and money from the fans across the system. Outside it, too.

  With the added prominence of the games, the market for fresh material was hot right now. Hence his plans for the day. Since he didn’t need to qualify, he could feed the fans’ hunger. He wouldn’t be going deep. He’d go for the most awesome visuals.

  Jason was looking over their dive ship when he arrived at the bay they rented. He seemed rested, which had to be a lie. Or he hadn’t found a new lady friend to share with his girl.

  Adam clapped Jason on the shoulder. “You look like you struck out, bro.”

  The other man grinned. “Never. I took a wake-up pill. I can do that. One of the benefits of being the mechanic instead of the pilot.”

  “How’s she look?” Adam patted the side of his custom dive ship. She was sleek and had only the most vestigial of wings. They’d gone with a bright-blue paint job this time. It looked good.

  “I tweaked the magnetic field generator just as we discussed,” Jason said. “I think it’ll reduce the leakage by maybe half a percent. Janus will like that. Port thruster three looked hinky, so I swapped it out.”

  Adam nodded. “I was going to do that, but didn’t have enough time to build the spare in the shop.”

  “Would the tall lady with the dark-brown hair be the reason you couldn’t wrap it up? I saw the two of you talking last night.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I sent her packing.”

  “It sure seemed as though she sent you packing,” his friend teased. “You left and she was right behind you. I was giving you credit for angry sex. If she comes back, can I make a run at her?”

  “She’s all yours.”

  The first thing they did was go over every aspect of the dive plan. Everyone thought that he and his comrades were suicidal fools that rode off like cowboys seeking thrills no matter the cost. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  They planned every dive in meticulous detail. Each aspect of it was isolated and steps taken to mitigate risk. Safety first, last, and always.

  The external preflight involved them both going over each of the systems closely and then double-checking one another. Only once they were both satisfied did he go inside the ship to start the instrument checks.

  Adam slid into the narrow cockpit and ran the ship through the normal preflight tests. All systems green. With the hellish environment in Jupiter’s atmosphere, the ship had to be in top condition. The slightest flaw meant death.

  Once he was satisfied, he climbed out. “We have a big crowd today?”

  “With the games starting? Hell, yes. Eight other divers are making runs today and the gallery is packed. Some guy called trying to set up an appointment for an interview. I think he was a reporter.”

  “He can wait,” Adam said.

  Those were serious numbers. Normally, they had around six divers take a run during any given week. Sometimes as few as two or three. Occasionally none.

  There weren’t that many people crazy enough to plunge into the king’s atmosphere. The biggest pack they’d ever had was an even dozen. Two of whom had died. One with a failed thruster and one because she’d gone too deep and the pressure ruptured her hull.

  Each of the dive ships had a telemetry package that came free in a worst-case scenario. Its powerful thrusters brought all the data back to Jove Station. That allowed them to find out what had happened and to help guard against it in the future.

  However, there was a gruesome side as well. Included in the retrieved data was the pilot video, which meant they got to watch their friends die.

  Occasionally, a copy of one of the cockpit recordings got out. Then it made the rounds all across the system. There was no accounting for some people.

  He sighed. If it happened to him, he supposed it didn’t matter. He’d be dead.

  The last thing he checked was his suit. It wasn’t anything like what normal spacers wore. The G-forces he’d hit diving into the Jovian atmosphere were much harsher than on a normal planet.

  His suit helped him breathe and made speaking possible. It also gave him extra strength to force the controls if he had to.
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  Unlike other ships, the dive vessels all used mechanical linkages and hardwires. It was almost like going back in time. If too much radiation got through the protective magnetic fields, it would crash any electronic relays.

  Today’s dive wouldn’t be anything to write home about. Well, at least not for him anyway.

  Most of the excitement came when they dove on the Great Red Spot, the massive anticyclone that circled Jupiter south of the equator, but that wasn’t where the most danger lurked. The winds encountered there only rose to just over four hundred kilometers per hour.

  His plan for the day was to go for the visuals rather than push the limits of his ship and body. The king’s atmosphere was over five thousand kilometers deep, so there was a large canvas for him to choose from.

  The base of the atmosphere wasn’t actually the planetary core. Scientists had designated that at the one bar mark, where the atmospheric pressure was just a little less than at sea level on Earth.

  At about 12 bars, hydrogen became a supercritical fluid. Divers treated 10 bars as the bottom of the atmosphere. The drop from 1 bar to 10 bars was about ninety kilometers.

  He’d ventured lower, of course. They all had. The pressure and temperature went up dramatically the deeper one went, but they could do it if they were prepared.

  The visible clouds started about 0.6-0.9 bar and went down about fifty kilometers. Ammonia ice made up the uppermost level. Below that were denser clouds of ammonium hydrosulfide and ammonium sulfide. Those were at 2-3 bars. At 7 bars, he’d find water clouds.

  And with water came lightning.

  That was his goal today. He wanted to capture a massive thunderstorm on video. He’d target one in the northern hemisphere. He had a bright-white one in mind. It would be a turbulent ride, but well worth it, if the light show was half as good as he expected.

  Of course, that risked running into the impressive deep winds. Advanced probes had revealed roaring wind speeds over six hundred kilometers an hour in some cases before the king killed them.

  Scientists believed those only hinted at what might exist even further down. Some of the jets and bands occasionally produced storms that moved that fast.