Chapter 2
Magnus walked steadily toward the next checkpoint at Grenadin Spaceport. He noticed the looks he got from other people. He figured everyone saw the skinsuit and marked him as military or ex-military. Magnus knew a few other types who’d wear the Veer skinsuits: bounty hunters, frontier planet types, and big-time pretenders trying to pick up women.
He came to an automated counter and linked up. He watched a document fill out in his mind’s eye, identifying him and his incoming packages. After he verified the information as correct, he stood and waited while the requests were processed. He ignored the complimentary drink that had been dispensed at the counter for him. He also did not change his preferences with the customs computer to prevent the drink from being dispensed next time—anything to spite them.
“Magnus Garrison?” a voice said.
Magnus turned and saw an old acquaintance of his. The man looked like hell, ragged and ill-dressed. The man’s face held heavy lines and circles under the eyes. No attempt had been made to hide a burgeoning waistline that pushed forward under the spaceport uniform. Magnus tensed.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Magnus picked up a secure connection through his link.
“Cracker. What’s up?” Magnus replied in the private channel.
“I’m afraid there are a few issues I need to speak with you about, regarding your luggage,” Cracker said aloud.
Magnus felt a spike of anger. If this snake had—
“Relax. I have to bring you in here with an arsenal like that, or it’d look bad,” Cracker said back through the link.
“Okay,” Magnus said neutrally. He remained tense.
Cracker led him away from the autocounter and through a security door. They walked past two other clear glass rooms, which held other people who had been delayed at customs. Magnus saw one of them, an old lady, being interrogated by two men in dark suits. He cursed to himself silently. He hated this part.
“Okay, come in here, please,” Cracker said loudly.
Magnus walked into the glass interrogation room and found a seat. Cracker sat across from him and got a distant look as he brought up paperwork through his link.
“Relax, Mag, this is just procedure I gotta do,” Cracker sent him through his link.
“I see that you’ve requested clearance for an assault weapon,” Cracker said aloud. “Wow, this thing’s an antique.”
“It serves me well enough,” Magnus said.
“Why do you need such a device?” Cracker said, and then sent through the link: “It’s gonna be hard to clear through. It’s gotta link lock, but it won’t log your shots. Government wants to know these things.”
“It’s required for my work. I’m a guide. We have several contracts for accompanying clients on very new, undeveloped worlds. Many of these places have dangerous predators.”
“I’ve put an amount in our usual place,” Magnus transmitted. “You should find it adequate.”
“Your weapon is out of date. It doesn’t adhere to the latest shot-logging protocol,” Cracker said for the record.
“I can’t afford an upgrade right now. Business is tight.”
“Well, I’m afraid this is the last time I’m going to allow you through with this particular piece. Keep it on board until you can afford a safer replacement. Many of the stunners are getting relatively cheap these days—I suggest you get yourself one of those and sell this thing on one of those frontier planets you work on.”
“Thank you sir, I’ll do that,” Magnus said.
Magnus watched through his link while Cracker went through the motions, marking and logging the suspect items for rendezvous with the Iridar.
Cracker nodded. “Good. Real good. Now whaddaya say next time you just leave this damn thing on the ship so we don’t have to do this crap again?” he sent in the private channel.
“I will,” Magnus transmitted.
“Good. Cuz I don’t mind gettin’ rich, but I gotta be a free man to enjoy it,” Cracker sent.
“You have a good day, sir,” Cracker concluded aloud. Magnus felt impressed. Cracker’s business voice was actually starting to sound reputable.
Magnus made his way back out and past the throng at the autocounters. He came to the next checkpoint and moved into a tunnel on the right, which he knew he would have to pass through because of his Veer skinsuit. He had to get out of the material since it would absorb or reflect most of the security scanner’s energy. It was one of the disadvantages of wearing the suit, but he stubbornly refused to give up the safety it provided.
He took off the suit and handed it to a skeletal robot made of a few slender tubes of silvery metal. Wearing only his undersheers, he stepped onto a conveyor belt and passed through the scanner bank. Everything looked clear to the automated system, which routed his examined and cleaned skinsuit back to him. Magnus calmly dressed and made his way out of the side tunnel.
Past the last checkpoint, Magnus stepped on a conveyor belt that whisked him over toward the merchant cargo area. Magnus came to the Iridar at last. The gray ship rested among many other cargo vessels on the main deck. It had a round, flat shape like a pancake slightly inflated with air. Eight giant struts held it above the landing area.
Magnus let himself aboard and checked the security logs to make sure everything remained in order. He had several electronic traps waiting for any UNSF electronic attack operative who might have attempted to compromise the ship while the crew was gone.
Once he had satisfied himself that all was secure, he went to his tiny quarters and opened a communications channel through his link. He stared at a blank spot on the wall, making it easier for him to concentrate on an off-retina display in his mind.
A face resolved on the virtual screen. It showed a bearded man with a bald head and thickset neck. The man wore the uniform of a UNSF officer.
“Henman. We’re getting ready to head out. Do you have the latest for us?”
The man nodded. “Sure do. I got the bases and the satellite info for ya. There’s a clear continent you can try out, a good distance from any of the heavies.”
Henman would know. He served as an intelligence officer in the organization that kept tabs on communications across the entire human civilization. For a moment, Magnus wondered who watched the watchers.
“Yeah, well, we’ll make that choice when we get the info.”
Henman guffawed. “You guys do whatever you want; you just make sure that money gets to my kid.”
“We stick to our deals.”
“Awright then, we got nothing to argue about. You got anythin’ for me?”
“Yeah, we have a new team member. She’s a xenoarchaeologist, and get this—she’s Captain Relachik’s kid. Not that they keep in touch anymore… still, pretty amazing.”
“Wow, whatta angle! You guys are slick. Talk about an insurance policy. If the Seeker gets on your tail, all you gotta do is play your ace. Nice.”
“Do you really think that’s what we’re up to? Jack is pretty into these artifacts and so is this girl. I don’t think it’s like that.”
“Dammit, how can you fight through a whole friggin’ war and still be so naive? You musta caught something from that femme that really made you lose your mind.”
“I hardly know her. I just think if Jack was planning on using her as a shield he’d mention it to me.”
“Purple conductive paste! It’s a good thing I’m here to set you straight,” Henman said. “Of course that’s what they have in mind. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll play along. These guys didn’t hire you for your picnic skills, pal. Don’t get attached to this Core World bimbo, they may be needing to cash out their policy at some point, y’know?”
“Hrm. Maybe… anyway, I just wanted you to make sure she was clean. It makes me nervous, having someone along so close to the Space Force. Besides us, I mean.”
“She’s too obvious to be a spy,” Henman said.
“Yeah that’s what Jack says. Can you
check her anyway?”
“Yeah, I’ll friggin’ check.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you next time.”
“Yeah. I hope you do, Magnus. Grow up and get real, and you’ll make it just fine.” Henman rolled his eyes and broke the connection.
Magnus sat back for a moment, thinking about the new kid, Telisa. He knew Thomas and Jack were not angels, and he wasn’t either… but would they really blackmail the old captain with her? And if they did, would he go along with it? Magnus shook his head. He didn’t really have the stomach for that kind of purple paste, he decided. He could convince them to drop her off somewhere quiet if it came to that. He had enough blood on his hands for a lifetime.
The Trilisk Ruins Page 5