Espero (The Silver Ships Book 6)

by Jucha, S. H.

  “Steal samples,” Steve replied.

  Sarah and Fredericka glanced at each other. Despite their competitive stance with Steve Ross, the women admitted he was the senior investigator among the three of them, with an additional eleven years of experience, and Steve hadn’t missed a beat before intuiting Maria’s unstated requirement that the investigators would have to steal the samples without being caught or letting anyone know there had been a break-in and samples were taken.

  “You will each have a team of my people assigned to you. Contact them to hand off any samples that you … obtain … to them. They can be at your location within a half-hour and test the chemicals on-site for the markers that will identify this drug. Your team’s info is on your readers.”

  “Is our investigation systemwide?” Steve asked.

  “Your data contains only New Terran deliveries. I have my data people tracking shipments off planet,” Maria replied. “Now, this is the unusual part, so listen carefully. I don’t expect you to locate this person or persons, but this is only conjecture on my part. My expectations are that while working through your lists you will check on a delivery location and find no one. Be extra diligent there. Run a sniffer for residues and have the backup team test whatever the sniffer picks up.”

  “Why do you expect them to be gone?” Fredericka asked.

  “The drug is potent, far outside anything we’ve seen before, and certain parties would know that they have a much greater chance of being caught on New Terra versus somewhere out there,” Maria said, pointing a finger into the air.

  “Does this have anything to do with the pleasure domes?” Steve asked. “And don’t bother giving me that senior commander look.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, Ross. It never worked on you when you were in the service … rebel,” Maria said, tempering her comment with a wink. “It’s understood in certain circles that some of the mining companies on Ganymede’s moons are covers. But the common citizen is unaware that those pleasure domes are run by dangerous criminals. For now, that’s the way our government wants to keep it.”

  “What’s our time frame?” Sarah asked.

  “There isn’t one,” Maria replied, “but I expect if we take too long, the investigation will become moot.”

  “Sounds like overtime billing will be expected,” Steve said, ensuring he understood Maria’s contract expectations.

  “You’re authorized to submit a 50 percent markup on all hours worked. I advise you to make use of every hour of the day and night before the contract is pulled,” Maria said.

  Maria liked these three people and had worked with each of them, at one time or another, during her tenure in the TSF. So, she caught the eye of each of them in turn before she said, “Make no mistake, people. You might not locate the individual we’re after, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t have found treacherous people involved in the manufacture of illegal stimulants who won’t take kindly to an investigator sticking a nose into their business. Be extremely careful.”

  * * *

  Maria’s comm signaled an incoming call from President Drake, which surprised her. They hadn’t spoken in months, and the timing seemed too coincidental. “Put your game hat on, Maria,” she murmured as she picked up her reader and accepted the comm.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, President Drake?” Maria said.

  “I want to know everything you know about what Alex Racine is up to, and I want to know it now.”

  “You forget yourself, Mr. President. I’m no longer a civil servant,” Maria replied, bristling.

  “We’re being manipulated again, Maria,” Drake exclaimed.

  “And what was the intent of Alex’s manipulations when he proved President McMorris was murdered, much to everyone’s surprise; when he disobeyed presidential orders to save 125,000 Libran refugees; when he disclosed Downing’s usurpation of Méridien technology; and the list goes on? Alex doesn’t follow our rules … don’t think he likes rules … but his ultimate goal has always been to help us.”

  “But, what if someday that’s not his intent?” Drake asked.

  “Then he will no longer be Alex Racine, Will,” Maria said quietly.

  “Perhaps we should begin again?”

  “Perhaps you should,” Maria replied.

  “I attempted to ascertain from Ambassador Monti what Alex was doing in system, and he repeated the cover story of vacation. Why are you laughing?” Will asked, perturbed by her sudden outburst.

  “Do you really think Alex would place his good friend in such a compromising position? Alex knew Tomas would be the first person you would go to for answers. Will, you have to stop trying to manage everything. The president’s position is about the guidance of our society, not trying to control its every movement.”

  “Well, enough criticism about my job management,” Drake said. “I was calling because Alex and you have always been close. I know if Alex touched base with anyone, it would be you. Can we compare notes?”

  “Well, I already know your side of the story,” Maria said, her voice lifting in amusement.

  “Everybody knows my side of the story. Seems it was important enough to transport Charlotte Sanderson out of her director’s chair and back onto the reporter’s desk.”

  “I thought it was fascinating. Does the Tanaka really exist?”

  “Oh, yes, our outpost on Sharius reports an odd-shaped ship crossing the belt. It’s smooth-hulled like a traveler but about the size of a Méridien liner and, according to the captain … by the way, who’s an ex-UE commodore … possessing a beam weapon to match its size.” Drake heard Maria’s long, slow whistle over the comm.

  “Can we afford one or three?” Maria asked.

  “I have no idea, guess we’ll find out, but back to your dealings with Alex.”

  “I can tell you this, Will. He’s hired my firm to locate someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “Maria, we go too far back to play games like this —”

  “Will, listen to me,” Maria said, interrupting her president. “We don’t know the name of the target … Alex doesn’t know who. He’s after a biochemist who’s making some sort of nasty hallucinogenic.”

  “Hmm … some vacation.”

  “He tried that one on you too?” Maria asked, laughing. “Renée called him on that one.”

  “She was always the one with the better sense of people.”

  “Agreed. I think Alex is better with aliens … and SADEs, come to think of it.”

  “So what does this all mean … a brand new ship to show off and searching for a biochemist?”

  “Let me ask you a question first, Will. Where is your sting-ship tour taking place? Ganymede, by any chance?”

  “How did you know? … the domes,” Drake said, suddenly seeing some of the pieces fall together.

  “Yes, those pesky little domes,” Maria said, her voice taking on a hard edge.

  “I know you want the government to move faster in dealing with the problem —”

  “Move faster,” Maria declared hotly. “I want you, the Assembly, and the TSF to get off their collective butts and move, period.”

  “They have the law —”

  “Wrong,” Maria interrupted again, “the law served to protect mining companies in the initial days of space exploration. Those days zipped past us at the speed of Méridien technology. These pleasure domes are a perversion of the law and are opportunities for the gangs to generate credits with impunity. Now, the Harakens are here hunting a biochemist who manufactures dangerous drugs.”

  “Oh, Maria … you don’t think the gangs tried to infiltrate Espero?”

  “Possibly, but if it was something general like that, I think Alex would have been knocking at Government House’s door demanding something be done about the source of the problem.”

  “So you still think we’re missing something?” Drake asked.

  “Undoubtedly, which is why I have some advice for you, Wi
ll.”

  “Go ahead. It looks like I’m in need of it,” Drake said, with resignation.

  “Don’t play the New Terran president on Alex out there. Something’s going on, and I believe he’s keeping us in the dark for a good reason.”

  “Deniability, most likely.”

  “Most likely,” Maria agreed. “Anyway, be prepared to let things play out. In every case, that has worked in our favor. Then, in the end, when the prize falls in your lap, and some people stand up and proclaim foul on the way it happened, you can reply that it was those damned Harakens.”

  Drake laughed at that. Maria was right on that score. A great many ills and foul deeds had been uncovered by Alex and company as they bent, if not broke, the laws of the land. On more than one occasion, Alex Racine should have been arrested and tried under New Terran law. Only stumbling block to that scenario was: How do you prosecute the leader of a foreign world who has at his command SADEs, alien weaponry, and a fanatically loyal population?

  “I will try to be a good puppet,” Drake said and signed off.

  Maria breathed a sigh of relief. The conversation had gone much better than she expected. She fervently hoped Drake would keep his head screwed on straight and his temper under control once Alex’s machinations went into overdrive.

  * * *

  The next morning Drake, Jaya, a retinue of staffers and security boarded a traveler waiting at the rear of Government House. The traveler was piloted by Captain Hailey Timmion, who led the New Terran shuttles in a successful bluff to force the UE’s Hand of Justice to take the longer path outward of Niomedes, which sealed the battleship’s fate.

  As much as Drake enjoyed traveling in the exquisitely appointed presidential shuttle, he was reminded that this traveler was built specially for Maria Gonzalez by the Harakens. New Terrans might have been outraged at the quality of the interior details and the credits it cost, except for one minor point. The traveler was a gift from the Harakens to New Terra for the exclusive use of the sitting president.

  Moments after Timmion lifted off, reports were sent from several independent ground sources that the president was on the move. More reports followed those, once the shuttle cleared New Terra’s air space, and even more, originating from freighters and tugs, were sent as the traveler headed for the outer planets, in the general direction of Ganymede.

  The reports terminated at the pleasure domes of Azul “Mr. Blue” Kadmir, Roz “Sniffer” O’Brien, and Peto “Craze” Toyo. All three men paid enormous amounts of credits every month to myriad, low-level informants to keep watch on key government personnel and influential individuals, who they knew took a hard stance against criminality, Maria Gonzalez first and foremost among this latter group.

  -14-

  Alex requested Julien and Cordelia monitor the communications and data flow of Maria’s people soon after she met with her investigators.

  “Are you concerned, Ser President, that Ser Gonzalez will not communicate her findings to you?” Cordelia asked.

  “I believe our purpose will be similar to Sol, beloved,” Julien said. “Maria’s investigators are akin to the pro-naval forces, who are hunting among judiciary forces for our biochemist.”

  “Then we are to protect them,” Cordelia said.

  “Yes,” Julien replied. “Mr. President, by these actions, it’s quite possible we will be estranging another valuable New Terran contact.”

  “That seems to be my style lately … alienation,” Alex said, and laughed halfheartedly at his joke. Sobering, he added, “It’s the least we can do for placing them in harm’s way with limited information.”

  “To what extent should we display our efforts?” Cordelia asked.

  “Your intent is dual-fold,” Alex replied. “First, do whatever is necessary to protect the investigators. They will probably be Maria’s best people, but they might not know the kind of trouble waiting for them. And second, keep the investigation quiet. If word leaks out that illegal drug manufacturers are being raided, we could panic whoever has our girls. In fact, they might think that we’re the ones running the investigation.”

  Having identified the three people who Maria assigned to field operations, the SADEs set taps on the investigators’ readers, collected the gamut of information Maria shared with them, and cross-referenced this with the intelligence data her employees were gathering.

  * * *

  During his second afternoon in the field, Steve Ross finished surveilling a quiet warehouse on the outskirts of Prima. Despite the rusting, locked gate and weeds growing next to the building, three shiny new hover cars were parked at the rear. Inside, nine people went about their jobs manufacturing an assortment of powders and pills.

  Earlier that morning, Steve discovered a nearly identical setup at a shop in Prima. He pondered which one of the two he would raid first, once night fell. The warehouse seemed to be the larger of the two operations and was more likely to have a second shift, so he decided to hit the shop first and save the warehouse for the early morning hours and hope there wasn’t a third shift.

  Keeping low along the fence, Steve made his way back to his flit. In the stillness of the afternoon, his reader softly chimed. Fool amateur’s mistake, Steve thought, berating himself for leaving his reader on after taking vids of the manufacturing operation through the warehouse windows.

  Pulling his reader, Steve was momentarily taken off guard by the beautiful screen image of swirling colors. Then a voice from the reader said, “Ser Ross, you’ve been discovered by those in the warehouse.”

  Steve hunkered down in some overgrown weeds and looked carefully around him. “Who is this and where are you?” he whispered.

  “Not near you, if that’s what you’re wondering, Ser. I’ve observed a man planting some sort of device on your flit. Afterwards, he made his way to the back of the warehouse in the opposite direction from you. I can only assume that this does not bode well for you.”

  “You assume this does not bode well for me … who talks like that? What you mean is someone ponged my flit.”

  And the Ser believes I speak in an unusual manner, Julien thought, wondering how to conjugate the verb ponged. “I think the question remains, Ser, as to whether you are skilled at removing the device or whether you will require my assistance.”

  Steve was thinking this was the oddest conversation he had ever had during his investigations or in his entire life, for that matter, and decided to simplify their communication. “No, I’m not an explosives expert. Are you?”

  “I’m quite accomplished in many facets of human inventions. When you reach your flit, please do not touch it in any manner. Simply point your reader at the device from a distance of about 15 to 20 centimeters and rotate the reader as much as you can so that I may have a full view of it.”

  Tucking the reader back into his pack, Steve crawled along the fence line, deciding to keep up the charade so that those in the warehouse wouldn’t know he was aware of what they had done. At his flit, he pulled out the reader. The swirling image was gone, but the comm icon was still lit so he carefully investigated his flit and located a small polished disc, about 5 centimeters across, adhering to the flit’s undercarriage.

  “What do you think?’ Steve whispered, when he finished surveying the disc.

  “One moment, Ser,” Julien said, searching databases, beginning with those of the Terran Security Forces, quickly locating the design. “That explosive device is designed to activate when a preset elevation is acquired. More than likely, this will have occurred when you were a good distance away. It has a magnetized base, and the method of deactivation is quite simple. Pull the device off firmly but gently. I recommend setting down the reader and using both hands.”

  “You sure?” asked Steve, his face and hands starting to sweat.

  “I’m observing the TSF manual pages as we speak. The specifications for disarming are quite clear.”

  “Okay, give me a moment.”

  Julien heard a grunt, a smack of flesh a
gainst something solid, and a round of whispered expletives. “I take it the device is free of the undercarriage.”

  “Yeah, now what?” Steve growled, glancing at his bleeding knuckles.

  “You will notice the disc has a fine line running around its circumference, enabling the two halves of the disc to be rotated. Observe both flat sides. One side will have a series of numbers on it.”

  “Got it.”

  “With the numbers facing up, trap the top half of the disc in one hand and rotate the lower half counterclockwise about 30 degrees until you hear a click.”

  “Or a boom,” Steve commented drily.

  “Hopefully not,” Julien replied.

  Steve swiped one hand down his pants leg and then the other to clear off the sweat and grime. Gripping the device as he had been instructed, making triple sure he was turning the bottom half counterclockwise, Steve closed his eyes and slowly rotated the halves. When he heard the click of metal, he opened his eyes and let out a long sigh. “All good. Now what?”

  “It’s safe, Ser Ross. You can put it in your pocket and fly away.”

  “Take it with me?”

  “To dispose of safely, Ser.”

  Now that Steve was focusing again on something else besides dying, he realized that he might be compromising the investigation if his flit didn’t explode as expected. “Can this thing be detonated remotely?” Steve asked.

  “Unfortunately, your adversaries programmed the device for a specific elevation, which I don’t know. They would expect to hear the explosion or listen to a media report of a flit accident, which must resemble their expectations.”

  “Too true.”

  “However, if you’re willing to sacrifice your flit, Ser, I believe we can keep the charade in play. When you are safely away, I will launch the flit and elevate it until the activation height is reached.

  Steve’s suspicions were confirmed. He was talking to a SADE. “Okay, let’s do this.” Steve jumped on his flit, kept low to the ground until he had traveled about 2 kilometers, landed, and got off the transport.