by Andria Stone
“Friend of yours?” Mark asked.
“Not anymore.”
“Who was he?”
“Two of them walked through the kitchen. I heard him say ‘Parker’ and ‘guns’ in the same sentence, so I followed them.”
“Where’s the other one?”
“He went upstairs.”
“Did you get any information?”
Axel shook his head. “Not enough time.”
Mark wiped his prints off the gun, left it next to the body, picked up his wine bottle, and handed it to Axel. “Well, it’s lucky I found you. Mind taking out the broken corkscrew?”
Using the augmented fingers in his left hand, Axel pinched the metal tip, drawing the cork out.
“Should we run?” Mark asked.
“Probably,” Axel said as they hurried back to the kitchen.
“We’ve been trying to comm you all night. You had us worried.”
“There must be a noise-canceling field surrounding the kitchen.”
“I made it to the basement,” Mark said. “There aren’t any guns.”
“None?”
“No. Lots of these, though.” He played the vid on his tablet for Axel.
“Cryopods?”
“Hundreds, or maybe thousands, with at least one armed guard.”
“And no Valerie Parker?”
Mark shook his head. “Anyway, you’ll never guess how many of our friends are at this party.”
Axel looked surprised. “We have friends?”
“I’m using the word loosely. Scarlett is Clay Bryant’s date. Colonel Olivia Rushing kissed and hugged the governor.”
“Well hell…that ramps things up a couple notches, doesn’t it?”
“I haven’t been able to get an image of either one without being seen,” Mark said. “Kamryn may have.”
Axel entered the kitchen alone first. Within seconds, Mark appeared. He got a corkscrew from a young uniformed male, returned to the banquet, and resumed his routine.
“Kamryn, I found Axel.”
“Good, let’s finish this gig and get out of here.”
Mark scanned the room. “I can’t find Scarlett or Rushing.”
“Clay Bryant left with both women.”
“What? When?”
“Just now.”
“Well, I’ll drink to that.”
***
Axel climbed into the Staffing van, separated from both his friends, for the short trip to the Agency. Grateful for the silent darkness, he tried to relax, but it didn’t come easy. Axel was a soldier, always had been, of one kind or another; from keeping the peace in a dingy little restaurant, to keeping the working girls safe from abuse, to keeping the streets of Phoenix safe from criminals, to wearing armor and keeping Terra safe from would-be warmongers.
Although he no longer wore a uniform, soldiering ran in his blood. He excelled at it. He wanted a full sitrep on all the evening’s events. Even more, he wanted to find Valerie Parker. Her brother had painted a big red bullseye where her heart might be—if she had one—and Axel had entertained many dark fantasies of ending her life. The one mental image reoccurring most often was of him tearing her heart out with his bare hands.
Restitution, retribution, vengeance, the name made no difference. Valerie Parker had ripped his heart out. He’d repay her in kind, or die trying.
Axel hadn’t felt the burden of hatred for half a lifetime. He’d forgotten how oppressive it could be; how it wormed its way into your heart, your mind, even your soul. That kind of hatred sucked all the joy out of life.
No. He’d never surrender control over his life to someone like Valerie Parker.
He’d been staring out the window, lost deep in thought. Pulling himself back to the real world, he focused on what he actually saw. It was nightfall under Mars Dome 3. He compared it to a dusky twilight on Terra. A dim, ambient glow coming from overhead girders in the dome cast pitch black shadows at odd angles.
A strange thought dawned on Axel. He hadn’t seen any animals or young children on the planet. Mostly mercs, killers, and rejects. He didn’t like Mars, not one damn bit. He sensed a longing for the blue skies and fresh air of his homeworld. Axel couldn’t remember ever being homesick, but he wondered if this was how it felt.
The van stopped. They disembarked at the Agency, went in, got paid, then straggled out alone. True to his word, Gaige waited in his van, greeting them with a smile.
“Glad to see everyone made it back in one piece.”
He drove through the quiet residential streets. No one spoke much, waiting to share the information until they were all together again. Gaige pulled around to the back of the house.
The returning members were met with hugs, even from Ohashi. Mark clutched her arm. “Did you get my vid of those cryopods?”
Kamryn stood beside him. “What about mine?”
“Sure did. Got them all. Sent them straight out. They’re all queued up, ready to be viewed.”
Gaige brought in two large, delicious smelling bags with enough food for a platoon: barbecue, cherry pies, and two six-packs of beer were spread out on the table. He handed a smaller bag to Petra, who dumped the contents out on the kitchen counter.
“Oh, look!” Petra squealed. “Shampoo, lotion, my favorite soap, honey dust, and nail polish. Where on Mars did you find real nail polish? Floozie Bluzie, my favorite color! This is like Christmas!”
Everyone else attacked the food while Petra sank to the floor against the cabinets to paint her toes. Ohashi swiveled the screen around so everyone at the table could eat while they watched the five vids. Scarlett hanging all over Clay Bryant. Row upon row of cryopods stacked in a dungeon. Governor Bryant’s speech centering on his reelection, finishing with a request for financial support. Rushing in a black gown embracing the governor. Clay leaving with Scarlett and Rushing.
Kamryn shook her head. “I don’t get it. That’s the weirdest ménage à trois I’ve ever seen.”
Leaning closer, Mark replayed the last scene. “No, I think we’re looking at more of a collusion than a coital escapade.”
Gaige didn’t seem interested in the women or the speech. “You found no guns?”
“None,” Mark said. “Just the cryopods.”
“What’s in them?”
“Clones.”
A disgusted expression settled on Gaige’s face. He backed away, lounged in the corner, watching them devour the food as hunger overpowered them. They reverted to wisecracks and teased each other like big kids at a family dinner.
Axel kept a watchful eye on Gaige as he used his sergeant’s voice. “Petra.”
She looked up. “Sir?”
“Pie.”
Petra jumped up to get plates.
Gaige hadn’t blinked, just took Petra’s small slip of the tongue of “Sir” in stride. It confirmed Axel’s suspicion: Gaige had seen through their deception.
Axel pushed a chair away from the table with his boot. “Have a seat, Mr. Rayburn. Join the party. You can sit at the table with the rest of us outlaws.”
“Oh, come now,” Gaige chuckled as he took a seat. His accented baritone sounded like an audible hug. “You couldn’t possibly think I’m still under the misconception you people are black marketeers or gangsters. I knew the minute you let Ranko and Zorić walk out of the bar without a scratch.” His gray eyes sparkled like the stone in his pinky ring. “You’re military. Too unorthodox to be current, so ex-military. Terran, because you’re certainly not Martian.”
Mark leaned forward. “What gave us away?”
“Too well dressed, expensive leathers professionally tailored,” Gaige said, ticking off points on his fingers. “Too disciplined, though your response in the bar was impressive. Self-assured, but not cocky. Moneyed, using state of the art comms—I hardly noticed them—plus high-priced weapons. No scarring I could see. Consequently, any injuries you might have received have been treated with nanites.”
Mark placed a hand on his chest. “I was just called coc
ky yesterday.”
“No doubt by someone who felt inferior. Cocky is arrogance. Self-confidence is using your skills and playing to your strengths, which I’ve seen all of you do in person. You function as a team. A very well-oiled team. Some of your talents are more prevalent than others, but I imagine you’re all experts in your chosen fields.” Gaige leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So, do you want to tell me who you really are?”
At the kitchen counter, Petra had been busy making coffee for those who might want some with their pie. Eva and Ohashi continued eating as the others talked.
Ohashi nudged Axel’s leg underneath the table before she spoke. “First, Professor Aldrich, why don’t you tell my friends here who you really are.”
A myriad of emotions washed over Gaige’s face: surprise, anger, fear, ending with acceptance. He recovered as his thumb began twisting his pinky ring. “I’ve been dreading this day for the last twenty-two years. I supposed it’s only fitting Terran’s would be the ones to discover the truth.”
“Which would be?” Axel asked.
“Could I have some coffee, please? You’ll also find a bottle of Namuzko brandy on the top shelf of the cupboard to your left.”
A deafening silence hung in the air until Petra placed his cup and bottle of brandy on the table.
“My name was Emery Aldrich.” He drank from the cup, then poured in a good two finger helping of brandy. “I taught theoretical chemistry until my wife died. The authorities deemed it an accident. I thought otherwise.” He paused to take a healthy swallow of brandy. “It took me eight months to prove it was murder, during which time the perpetrators disappeared.” He took another gulp while the suspense mounted.
Axel prodded him. “I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Gaige continued. “I tracked them down in Vienna, confronted them, whereupon they would have killed me if I hadn’t anticipated that possibility.”
“And…?”
“As I said, they did indeed try to kill me, which forced me to defend myself.”
“Okay, I get it. That’s your debt of honor,” Kamryn said. “I don’t mean to be crass, but you omitted the reason for your wife’s murder.”
“Money. A staggering fortune. My wife happened to be the niece and only blood relative of an aerospace industrialist, who was dying. His wife had already passed on, leaving him with her son, whom he’d adopted. The son’s inheritance would be split equally with my wife. He wanted it all, so he hired assassins to ensure that outcome.”
“What happened to the kid?”
“The ‘kid’ was thirty-three years old. He died a week later in a skiing accident in the Alps.” With a thumb and forefinger Gaige smoothed the edges of his mustache, trying to hide a slow smile.
“I love a story with a happy ending.” Kamryn belched. “Excusez-moi.” Then she hiccupped, laughed, and snorted. “Cherry pie with beer, two of my favorites. Not together, though.” She pushed herself away from the table. “Be back in a minute.”
Gaige went to the counter for a coffee refill, topping it off with brandy as he reclaimed his seat. Kamryn returned in black exercise togs which accentuated her physique. She tossed matching pants to Axel and Mark.
“Go change. We’ll keep the Professor company until you get back.”
The men ducked into a bedroom to shed their banquet uniforms.
“Did you tell Ohashi to investigate him?” Axel asked, kicking off his boots.
Mark peeled off his trousers. “I asked her to see what she could find.”
“Ohashi calls herself a cyber ninja. She said once, ‘It’s a good thing I wear a white hat. If I were pitching for the other team, the TMD would be in big trouble.’”
“Point taken.” Mark piled their clothes in a heap. “Yes or no, do we accept him?”
“Trust is earned, just like—”
“Respect.” Mark rubbed his jaw. “I remember.” He recalled a painful lesson from the receiving end of Axel’s fists. “So nothing major until he’s passed the Von Radach Test.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter 11
The men reemerged in the kitchen barefoot and shirtless. Mark walked toward Rayburn with his hand extended. Rayburn stood to give it a firm shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Professor Aldrich. I’m Doctor Mark Warren, Xenobiologist, Cybernetic Augmentation Specialist.”
“You wield a mean blade, Dr. Warren.”
Mark frowned. “I’ve had some practice.”
And so it went. Everyone followed Mark’s lead, with the last person being Eva. When she presented her hand, Rayburn bent to kiss it. “I recognized you earlier from the newfeeds, Dr. Jackson. I’m an admirer. You’re a true pioneer in the field of terraforming. The work you’re doing is, forgive the pun, groundbreaking.”
A rosy glow colored Eva’s bronze cheeks. They wandered into the living room as Rayburn quizzed her on the use of nanoparticles in her proposed protein structure.
Kamryn sidled up to Mark. “Since Rayburn’s a chemist, maybe we can get him to brew up another batch of Quazar. Think he could?”
Mark approached Ohashi. “Show me what you found on the Professor’s academic background.”
Ohashi flipped through a few screens, double-tapped his dossier folder, and zoomed down to his résumé.
“Well, Professor Emery Aldrich was a Ph.D. A trained scientist in the fields of…” Mark read the list of courses, “organic chemistry, qualitative measurements, radical reactions, carbonyl compounds, enzymes, proteins, chemical dynamics.” He glanced up. “Plus, the man built a hand-crafted distillery here on Mars. He’s got my vote.” Mark squinted at the other folders underneath the Professor’s. “Wait, what’s this? You have a dossier on me?”
Ohashi looked smug. “I have one on everybody, even Dimitrios, Harben, and Torance. However, I did finally get the definitive answer on the Parker’s adoption. The parents worked for Coulter. They died, or were murdered, because we can’t put anything past Coulter. She adopted the kids, sent them to boarding school. Then it seems she groomed them to take over her future empire here on Mars. From what we know of Valerie, she’s following in her adoptive mother’s footsteps.”
“Great. This confirms my theory. Let’s see the dossier on Rushing.” Mark scanned it, then began thinking aloud. “If I were a 53 year old female colonel, accustomed to being heavy-handed, used to getting my way, I’d have my sights set on becoming a general, sooner rather than later.”
Kamryn picked up the thread. “Being sent to another planet to provide support, which is not my style, I’d plan on bagging the killer myself and, in the process, add a new star to my collar.”
Petra joined in, “Using whatever means presented themselves to outwit that cocky scientist, even if it meant teaming up with a younger woman to obtain information—”
“—not available to the cocky thorn in my backside who one-upped me in front of his extraordinary friends,” Ohashi finished with an obsequious hand flourish.
Laughter erupted as Kamryn grabbed the last three beers from the fridge. She kept one, passing the others down to the men.
“All right, let’s get serious. Those women were there for a reason.” Mark scanned the circle of faces. “Theories?”
At the sound of merriment, Eva rejoined the group. Rayburn leaned against the doorway. “They’re both trying to manipulate the outcome to their own satisfaction. They’ve forged an alliance because their agendas coincide. The younger woman has her youth, the older one experience; a formidable duo to anyone naïve or less intelligent.”
Mark frowned at Eva. “You thought I was naïve?”
Facetiously, she replied, “Not the second time around.”
Petra's eyes darted from Eva to Mark. “Here’s the background you wanted on Rushing. It says she slapped a Major Salvador Pacheco for making a sexist remark, which he's always denied. Her first husband, Enzo Delacruz, manufactures Cruzers Motorcycles. He divorced her after a year an
d a half of wedded bliss. Husband number two, Máximo Quintana, owns a sizable coffee plantation. He filed for divorce eight months after they tied the knot.”
Kamryn spread her hands. “Anyone see a pattern here?”
“All three have Hispanic surnames. Both husbands were wealthy,” Eva ventured. “It feels wrong asking this, but what’s her ancestry?”
“Mother born in Canada, father in Guadalajara. Mother committed suicide when she was nine years old. Raised by her father, a former Consul General of Mexico stationed in D.C.”
“She hates men,” Ohashi said. “The reason doesn’t matter. If we stay away from her and the bimbo—”
A tablet buzzed. Rayburn checked his. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have news. One of my contacts has spotted Valerie Parker in the city of Meridian.” He turned the screen around to show the vid of her passing through a Security Gate.
Axel moved in closer to study the image. “Where is that?”
“Dome 2.”
Axel started for the bedroom with a wild look in his eyes. “Anybody who’s going with me, gear up. I’m out of here in ten.”
Kamryn stepped into his path, blocking him with a hand to his chest. “I’ve got your back, but more intel is needed. Is she hiding or recruiting?”
Mark moved in from the opposite side. “I’m with you, but we need a plan and a ship.”
“We’ll all go,” Petra said. “Because we’re better together. Right?”
Eva drew Axel into a chair. “Should we take a shuttle or hire a pilot?”
Rayburn cleared his throat in theatrical manner. They swung around to face him.
“Would it be of interest to know that I am a pilot? With a ship?”
The air sizzled with excitement as they welcomed him into the fold.
“What kind of ship do you have?” Mark asked.
“A SlipStream 9-90 Zephyr.” Rayburn thumbed up an image of a greenish-gray baby whale of a ship with an oversized tail. “She’ll hold twenty passengers and plenty of cargo. I use it to make deliveries.”