Pariah

by W. Michael Gear

  Whatever they were afraid of, he’d let them keep it to themselves for the time being.

  “Pilot, you can turn on the in-system navigational beacon. Let them know we’re coming.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mick Wilson told him, and a light on the instrument board illuminated.

  It didn’t take but thirty seconds before a voice asked, “Inbound shuttle, please state your identification and purpose.”

  “This is Corporate Advisor Tamarland Benteen, Corporate Survey Ship Vixen. IS-SE-17. We’re inbound to dock at shuttle bay four. Please have personnel ready to receive us.”

  Silence.

  He arched an eyebrow, glanced sidelong at Vacquillas. “Bet that took them by surprise.”

  “Lot of that going around, sir.” If anything, she looked even more pale.

  He glanced back of the command seat where his two security officers—armed and in uniform—were seated in the main cabin. Security Officer Huac Tu was in his twenties, a recent graduate from the academy. Jace Ali, in his thirties, was the veteran. Trained for hostile environment security, they wouldn’t have been Tam’s first choice for bracing the Supervisor, but they’d have to do.

  Not that there was much chance of trouble. Corporate Supervisors were a separate and unique breed: They followed orders, implemented policy, and gave orders to inferiors. Their skill was organization and administration, not action.

  She might outrank him, but in the end that would turn out to be a vulnerability on her part. He served Boardmember Shayne, second in power only to Radcek. Any action he decided to take, he could justify in Shayne’s name, and as being by her instruction. With Solar System thirty light-years away, who’d know?

  And if Supervisor Aguila were serving Radcek? First, she’d have no idea that Shayne had been toppled, and second, since Shayne and Radcek were locked in a battle to the death, any action Shayne’s “scorpion” took to either defeat or destroy Aguila was all in the name of the game.

  Poor woman, she’s dead meat already and hasn’t a clue.

  The com announced, “Corporate Shuttle, proceed to shuttle bay number four. You are authorized to dock. The Supervisor will meet you there as soon as she can return from the spindle. You are welcome to make yourself at home and await her arrival.”

  A pause.

  “Oh, and welcome to Freelander. Good luck.”

  “Make yourself at home?” Vacquillas asked. “Good luck? What’s that all about?”

  Tam savored the flavor of victory. “We’ve caught them completely off guard, First Officer. We’ve got them scrambling. Trust me, we’ll gain a hell of a lot more by questioning them now than after they’ve had time to think it through.”

  “You make it sound like we’re in some sort of competition.”

  “You tell me, First Officer. We arrive here to find an established mining colony. One that Dr. Shimodi says has to have been here for years given the size of that clay pit up north. And here’s this ship, Freelander. Not a new vessel from the looks of her, and one that’s not in the Corporate records. Someone knew about Cap III a long time ago. Has to be Radcek. Somehow he’s run this entire operation without the Board finding out. We’ve stumbled upon the largest criminal conspiracy in human history.”

  “Jesus, I hope you’re right.”

  “Want to explain that?”

  “No. I mean . . . So you think Tempest was part of the cover-up?”

  “Had to be. My bet is that when Boardmember Shayne ordered that I replace Maxim Grant at the last minute, the people running this operation were caught by complete surprise. If Grant were still in charge, Vixen would have probably become part of the cover-up.”

  “How? I mean, buy us all off? And the scientists, too?”

  “Or they could have employed a more odious solution. Something involving deep-brain implants, excising areas of the memory and substituting their version of events. In the right physical psychiatric surgeon’s hands, it would be as simple as skating on vacuum. Wouldn’t be the first time, either.”

  “No shit?”

  “You’d be surprised what kind of secrets are hidden in the deep archives.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That was my job.” He turned back to the security officers. “Do you both know who Boardmember Artollia Shayne is?”

  They nodded. Of course they did; she was one of the most powerful human beings alive.

  “This mission is operating under the Boardmember’s single and unique authority. Do you understand? That means Board sanction at the highest levels.”

  Both of the security officers nodded, eyes wide.

  “Given that I exercise that level of authority, when I give you an order, you are empowered, by the Board, to obey it without question.”

  “Yes, sir,” they barked in unison.

  “Any order,” Tam stressed. “So, if I say arrest the Supervisor, you will do so. Immediately. Without question.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tam could feel Vacquillas’ hard gaze boring into the side of his head, as he added, “Gentlemen, I just want to clarify my responsibilities vis-à-vis the mission. As you’ve overheard, we may well be in the middle of a huge criminal conspiracy. I will require your complete obedience.”

  “Yes, sir!” The enthusiasm was back.

  To Vacquillas he said, “Now you know why Maxim Grant was recalled at the last instant, First Officer. But, to be honest, neither Boardmember Shayne nor the other members of the Board had any clue as to the scale or type of operation being run on Cap III. Otherwise, we’d have brought marines.”

  “Hope you’re right, sir.”

  “That it’s a criminal operation? Odd that you’d say that.”

  “Given the alternatives.”

  “Which are?”

  “That we’re not in the . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. That’s nuttier than some run-amok criminal conspiracy.”

  In the viewports the huge bulk of Freelander could be seen. Damn, that was a big ship. How had Radcek managed to construct such a thing without anyone knowing?

  He watched as Pilot Wilson settled them down into a line of shuttle bays. Each was occupied by a delta-winged shuttle, all dark. No lights burning. The bays stygian and shadowed.

  Then his view port dropped below the great ship’s hull into darkness, the shuttle whining as it thrust to a stop.

  With barely a tremor, Wilson settled the bird into the nest. Thumps and clangs sounded as the grapples engaged.

  “Hard dock, people,” Wilson announced. “Extending the lock.” He watched his gauges. “We have a hard seal. Temperature is twenty-seven degrees Celsius on the other side. Normal atmosphere. Welcome aboard.”

  Tam unstrapped and stood, making his way to the main cabin. He’d dressed in natty black, and wore his full-length formal coat. Cut from the finest silk and tailored in Shanghai, it was his most treasured personal possession. He’d worn it at official Board functions, the gorgeous Shayne perched on his arm. And, even more to the point, it concealed his Talon 7 pistol with its smart rounds.

  “First Officer?”

  “Sir?”

  “I need you to follow my lead. Speak only when spoken to.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This is odd,” the pilot called. “It’ll be a second. The other side’s dead. We’re having to use the shuttle’s power to operate the lock.” A pause. Finally lights flashed on the lock control. “You’re good to go, Advisor.”

  “Oh brave new world.” He pressed the hatch release. Heard a click. As the heavy hatch slid back, he strode forward.

  Into . . . what?

  He found himself in a waiting room. The place was lit by a single, dim, light panel. The others were dark. He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and was able to pick out trash scattered about and among the chairs. Smears marked the sialon fl
oor.

  And there was the odd odor: like the inside of a crypt, musty, somehow tainted. His instinct was to pull up the tail of his coat to breathe through.

  “Screw me blind with a torque wrench,” Vacquillas whispered.

  Making a face, Tam stalked across the empty room, opened the hatch at the other end, and stepped into a black corridor beyond. He called, “Lights.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Ship’s AI. Freelander. Respond please.”

  Nothing.

  Vacquillas was fingering along the wall. “Got the switch.” A pause as she fiddled with it. “Give me a break. Still no lights.”

  “Hey! Fuck!” Security Officer Ali called, jumping and pulling his pistol. He whirled around, tense as a coiled spring.

  “What?” Officer Tu demanded, clawing at his own pistol.

  “It was . . . I mean, you saw that, right? Like it walked right through me.” Ali was working his mouth, jaw muscles popping.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Tu was peering anxiously into the darkness.

  “In Allah’s name I swear it. Something like, passed . . . It was like it went right through me. No shit.”

  Tam fought a shiver himself. “Back to the waiting room, people. No sense in standing here in the dark. Ali, shake off your ghosts. There have to be hand lights on the shuttle. Go find us some.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ali moved with remarkable alacrity back through the room and disappeared into the hatch.

  “What the hell happened here?” Vacquillas whispered the question hovering behind Tam’s own lips.

  Looking around at the dimly lit seats, the filth, Tam said, “This place looks like it’s a mausoleum.”

  Vacquillas stepped over to the com panel. “AI, give me a ship’s history.”

  She waited, staring at the dark holo. “Ship? Freelander, respond. This is First Officer Seesil Vacquillas. Respond, please.”

  The holo remained dark and silent.

  “What the hell?” she growled under her breath.

  “Advisor?” Tu asked. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

  Tam bit off a reply, his own anxiety rising. What was it about the room? Something just not sitting well. As if the very air was off, out of synch with reality.

  Ho’s words that day in astrogation came back to haunt him: “It’s like it’s eating the beam.” Was that it? Like the very air was eating his bodily energy?

  Ali emerged from the lock with five handheld torches. As he passed them around, he said, “Wilson’s a little upset. Says he can’t access any of the ship’s systems through the umbilical.”

  “There may not be any ship’s system to draw from,” Vacquillas said. “I’m getting the spooky feeling that this thing’s dead. How in thirteen levels of hell do you kill a ship like this?”

  “In the case of Freelander,” a voice called from the corridor, “it took one hundred and twenty-nine years. She didn’t age well. Forget the ship’s AI. Before they died, the crew chopped it out with an ax. You, however, Benteen, look as if not a day has passed since you disappeared.”

  Tam turned, staring at the apparition that emerged from the dark corridor beyond. The woman was tall, lithe, perfectly proportioned. Some kind of floppy-brimmed hat confined the thick raven hair that hung down over her shoulders. She wore an unusually cut leather jacket that shimmered in the dim light as if rainbow patterns flowed through it. Tight leather pants clung to long and toned legs. She had one hand propped on a military-grade pistol that was holstered on a heavy-duty utility belt with pouches. Tall boots crafted from the shining leather rose to her upper calves.

  Only when she came close did he see the scars on her face and hands. Even more unsettling were the glacial-blue eyes she fixed on him. A clever smile bent her lips. “So, you’re the famous scorpion. Welcome to Donovan.”

  “And just who, exactly, are you?” he asked, shocked at her use of the word scorpion. His hand slipped to the butt of his Talon 7.

  “Kalico Aguila. Supervisor. I serve Boardmember Mika Taglioni. Currently I administer all Corporate assets on Donovan and run Corporate Mine.”

  “Never heard of Mika Taglioni.”

  “You wouldn’t have. After your time. He wasn’t born when you killed his grandfather. Clever bit of work, that. A tailored microRNA that caused the old man’s immune system to literally devour his heart.”

  Impossible! Only Shayne knows!

  A cold spear of disbelief chilled Tam to the core. “Who the hell are you? What kind of fucking game are you trying to play? Whatever it is, lady, you don’t know the kind of hell you’re messing with.”

  Vacquillas, despite orders, asked, “What’s the date? Please. Tell me.”

  “Close as we can figure, relativity being what it is across thirty light-years, we’re somewhere into late 2155.”

  Vacquillas actually staggered, as if struck.

  “That’s fucking space shit if I ever heard it!” Tam cried, stepping forward, his heart racing. “We just got here!”

  “You’ve been missing for fifty years, Benteen. Just to clarify the historical record, did you kill Tayrell Torgussen and commandeer his ship? Historians have been debating that for half a century.”

  “What?” Vacquillas cried. “You killed Cap?”

  “This is crazy! He’s in astrogation aboard Vixen!”

  He could feel himself losing control. She was playing him for an idiot, for a simple-minded fool. Wasn’t anyone got away with shit like that. And this cold-eyed, pistol-packing slit wasn’t any Supervisor.

  “You’re Radcek’s soldier, aren’t you?” The deadly smile fell into place. “Nice try.”

  The woman said, “Come on, I want to show you something. Maybe put the last fifty years into perspective.”

  And with that she turned, flipping on a handheld light and heading into the corridor’s blackness.

  “We’re being played for idiots,” he growled. “Ali, Tu, you be ready.”

  First there was the macabre waiting room that had to be a set of some kind. Then the ludicrous clothing and Supervisor act. Soon as he got an angle on the kind of game she was playing, he was going to shoot her himself.

  24

  The great quetzal pinned Talina between its front feet; the claws curved around her back. Talina was still stunned when the tongue shot into her mouth like a striking serpent.

  The rope-like intrusion triggered her gag reflex, caused Talina to buck and dry heave. That implacable tongue followed every twist and jerk of her head, prodding, poking, filling her mouth. The intensity of the peppermint taste—concentrated to the point it brought tears—was almost beyond endurance. And the whole time the three black eyes atop the triangular head kept boring into Talina’s.

  It seemed an eternity.

  And then she was free, cast loose to collapse on the ground, coughing, her mouth watering—eyes teared to the point she couldn’t see. Her entire body shook, every muscle spasming and out of control.

  When she finally could catch her breath, she shouted, “Fucking bullshit!” Mostly because no other words formed in her scattered mind.

  Dragging a sleeve across her eyes, she cleared her vision and managed to collect her senses enough to stare up at the quetzal. Leaper and Diamond had stepped close behind, their triangular heads peering over her shoulders.

  Leaper kept displaying fantastic threat patterns of iridescent crimson and midnight black. The beast’s toothy mouth gaped, ready to strike. The clawed feet kept slashing suggestively at the air.

  Kylee had shinnied out of the way and stood just beyond the circle of quetzals, peering in with wide blue eyes.

  “Oh, damn,” Talina managed between pants. “Next time, just kill me, all right? I haven’t been that ill-used since I was dating Buck Berkholtz back in the academy.”

  She go
t her feet under her, staggered up, and rubbed her mouth before spitting to the side. She blinked, steadied herself, and faced the biggest one, Flash.

  “That’s the second time you’ve sneaked up behind me. Do it again, and I’ll blow a hole through you.”

  The old quetzal expanded its collar; the colors and patterns could have been painted by a psychotic artist in his manic stage. But the creature’s attention was on the other quetzals. Especially Leaper.

  Then Diamond swiveled its head, uttered a sibilant whistle through its vents, and shot a series of pink, taupe, and turquoise patterns across its flared ruff. All the while its body was patterned in indigo and orange.

  Leaper expelled irritation through the rear vents, and as quickly the crimson and black display vanished.

  Talina ducked as the quetzals thrust their heads together, tongues lancing out and into each other’s mouths to share molecules.

  Talina took the moment to locate her rifle, not more than a pace to her right. She took a step, started to bend, only to have a menacing claw extended toward her abdomen. Looking up, she stared into Flash’s lateral eye and read its warning.

  Okay, so Flash thought that was a bad idea. Given the claw dimpling her coveralls, she could live with that. Besides, her pistol was still on her utility belt.

  The quetzals were sharing the kind of colors and patterns that would have triggered a migraine in a marble bust.

  Leaper let out an ear-splitting shriek that caused Talina to clap hands to her ears. The crimson and black were back. Then the quetzal wheeled, and like a blur, vanished into the tree line.

  “Why do I guess he’s not happy?”

  Kylee said, “He was really looking forward to killing you. Figured he could share your molecules as easily when he digested you as when you were alive.”

  “Charming.” Talina glanced back and forth between the other two, realizing she didn’t have a clue about what the flipping beasts wanted or how to deal with them.

  Kylee told her, “Leaper blames me for Rocket’s death. He would have learned my body long ago if it wasn’t for Flash and Diamond. And Diamond’s not sure. Half the time he thinks Flash shouldn’t have let me live either.”