by Matt Levin
Russ stopped himself and rubbed his forehead. What was he thinking? They’d have the room monitored. If anyone was watching the cameras, it was probably already suspicious as hell that he had been standing at the doorway for so long.
“What are you doing, Russ?” he muttered. He really had to get off-planet.
“What are you doing?” a harsh voice blurted out to his right. He spun around and saw Lena Veridor standing at the edge of the corridor, arms folded over the top of her combat suit.
“I was actually on my way to see you,” Russ said. “I wanted to talk about the future of our arrrangeme—”
“—it looks like you were debating whether to break into our systems,” Lena said in a flat, declarative voice.
“Yeah well, I didn’t,” Russ growled. Better not to lie straight to Lena’s face, he decided.
Lena stayed silent and studied his face. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long. It’s been three weeks, and you haven’t even tried.”
“I had a feeling it would end with a plasma bolt in the head,” Russ said.
Lena’s mouth twitched like she relished the thought. “Let’s walk,” she said, beckoning him over.
Before they rounded the corner, one of the techs came back and paused at the security room’s open door. “Oh hey, boss,” he said.
“Bathroom break?” Lena asked.
“Uh, yeah,” the tech answered nervously.
“Lock the fucking door next time,” Lena said, and headed down the adjacent hallway.
Russ suppressed a grin and followed her. Ten natons says the kid’s gonna get taken out and shot, he thought.
Lena led him to an outdoor hallway that spanned the canyon system, leading into the inner compound, where mist devices gently rained down. Russ felt a few refreshing droplets pool in the grains of his beard.
“You’ve been remarkably incurious about the scale of our operations,” Lena said at last.
Russ shrugged. “We had crime organizations back on Earth,” he said. “Once you see one, you’ve seen them all.”
“The deal we’ve negotiated will help us grow exponentially in the long term,” Lena continued, ignoring his comment. “Access to the outer rim—especially while the Horde and the Junta are intent on killing each other—is perfect for our business. Within a decade, I expect us to become a truly solar black market. But it’s funny...the deal with your people goes against our biggest project right before you showed up.”
Russ weighed how to respond. She was toying with him: here’s what you would’ve found if you had broken into our systems earlier, like I thought you would was what she was telling him. He said nothing and let her continue at her own pace.
“We’re mostly focused on smuggling. Drugs and weapons, usually. Sometimes the occasional protection racket. But the biggest project we were working on before you showed up was actually a dark money operation.
“We collected money from a huge variety of sources. Big businesses, wealthy retirees, military officials, a few government workers, and thousands of small donors. Routed all of it through the planetary market, kept it untraceable from the Union. All of it went to a single organization: a group of people calling themselves the Natonus Offspring.”
That sounded ominous, if unrecognizable to Russ. And despite his paranoia spiking, he tried to keep a lid on his anxiety as best he could. “You say that name like I should have heard of them,” he said coolly.
“A bunch of organizations sprang up once the government declassified the Preserver’s existence. All of them nativist.”
“The prime minister told us the same thing,” Russ said, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of his stomach turning. “Why should I care about one more?”
“Because I just told you that the Offspring is involved in the most extensive clandestine financial operation in this system’s history. And my organization has been involved in all of them. So we’d know.”
Russ felt his arms and hands tense up. Maybe these Offspring people were a real threat. And he was only hearing about them just now. A fresh wave of anxieties and worst-case scenarios played out rapidly in his head. He needed to wrap up this conversation and report back to Isadora, ASAP.
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” Russ said, hoping to speed Lena closer to her point.
“Because our work with the Offspring directly conflicts with our deal with your people,” Lena explained. “They want to see your settlement efforts fail at any cost. And now, the Syndicate is invested in your people’s success. I’ve been weighing which outcome is better for us these past three weeks. And I’ve decided I’m sticking with you. Access to the outer rim markets is more valuable than profits from our work with the Offspring. Especially if the arrival of your people spikes economic activity in the outer rim exponentially, as all my financial advisers are telling me.”
No honor among criminals, Russ thought. Nor morals. Lena was basically saying she had only started caring that a shadowy organization wanted to thwart the refugees’ colonization plans once a better, more profitable option became available.
But he could only get so outraged. This was what you got when you worked with the black market.
“I appreciate that you’re telling me this,” Russ said. “And if you’re cancelling your deal with the Offspring, then you’ve done a lot to help secure my people’s foothold in this system.
“But my focus has always been on the Union,” he continued. “They don’t seem inclined to work with us, and unlike some obscure underground organization, they actually have teeth. The Union has more fleets and marine battalions than I can count on both hands. How much attention, realistically, should I be giving to the threat from these Offspring assholes?”
Lena grinned, which only made Russ’ sense of discomfort more acute. “Because our dealings with the Offspring—all of them—have gone through a single person,” she said.
Russ froze when she told him the name.
CHAPTER 31
* * *
Tanner had already checked the address on his wrist terminal three times. Each time, he confirmed that the address for the meeting center Onyx had sent him was correct. And each time, he took another lap around the plaza just to work his nerves back up so he’d have the courage to go inside.
It had been a week since the Offspring held a protest outside of a villa where the refugee government had been staying. Tanner still regretted not going, but he was determined to make up for it by attending the organization’s first whole-group convention.
The Offspring meeting was in some old convention center mostly used as a concert hall on the weekends. The building looked bizarre, with slats of glass protruding from each side. It was probably supposed to look artsy, Tanner figured, but it just looked dumb to him. He took one final lap around the plaza, steeled his resolve, and headed inside.
Sure enough, there were musicians in all black and lots of concertgoers crowded in a central lobby area. There were assorted vegetables, plant-based cheeses, and crackers at a table nearby, with plenty of wine to go around. Tanner rolled his eyes.
The instructions from Onyx were easy enough to remember. He was to approach one of the caterers, an elderly man with an ocular implant and a balding head. Explain who he was, drop Onyx’s name. The caterer would give him a keycard for an elevator out back, the same one that the musicians were using to bring in their equipment. It would take him to the facility’s basement level.
The caterer in question was easy enough to spot. Tanner waited in line behind two elderly women who were talking the caterer’s ear off about how it had been a bad few growing seasons for wine, and whether he had anything that was from the 2390s or earlier. From inside the adjacent concert hall, a primal cacophony of discordant noises blared as the musicians tuned their instruments. The two patrons just talked louder.
The older man nodded along patiently and poured them both glasses of wine from a bottle underneath the table. The two women nodded appreciatively
and headed into the venue. The caterer put the bottle back under the table and turned to Tanner. “What’ll it be, sir? A cheese plate? Assorted crackers and toppings? Just a glass of wine?”
Tanner leaned forward over the table so that his mouth was only a couple of inches from the man’s ear. “I’m Tanner Keltin,” he whispered. “Onyx invited me.” Then he pulled his head back.
The caterer’s eyes went wide, and a slight grin crept across his face. “I believe you must be mistaken, sir,” he said loudly, while discreetly rummaging through a supply box below the table. “This is for the orchestra concert,” the caterer continued, loud enough that any passerby could hear. Then he pulled out a blue keycard and slipped it to Tanner, who pocketed it in his jacket. “Natonus for the Natonese,” the man whispered, his ocular implant winking. He directed Tanner back outside.
He avoided a large group of concertgoers and circled around the dumb-looking building. There was a parked airbus at a loading dock at the other end. Several musicians were wheeling in two synth sets and a drum kit. They disappeared into the freight elevator at the rear of the loading dock.
Tanner waited until the elevator returned to make his move. He tiptoed across the loading dock as fast as he could, hugging the wall to avoid detection. There were still a couple of musicians in the airbus, preparing to bring in a number of amplifiers.
Tanner reached the elevator and slid the keycard into an access terminal. The door opened, and he mashed the button for the basement as hard as he could once he was inside. He waited for two breathless seconds, willing the two musicians to not turn around.
They didn’t. Tanner reached the basement in another few seconds, and immediately set off in search of the Offspring meeting room. He headed down a few hallways that led away from the elevator until he heard murmurs coming from one of the rooms. He pushed open the door and nervously shuffled in.
A man and a woman were sitting at a plastic folding table next to the entrance, each with a stack of paper and nametag lanyards. Smart, Tanner thought. He knew from his IT work that primitive record-keeping methods could be more secure than electronic databanks. Easier to destroy after the fact, at least.
Tanner saw the A-M sign beneath the man and approached. “Welcome, brother,” the man said with a wide grin. “Is this your first time with us?”
Despite all his newfound confidence, Tanner found himself hesitating for the first time in months. Maybe it was the aggressive warmth of the man’s tone. Tanner had gotten so used to the cold, lifeless professionalism of his old Veltech job that even normal human interaction took him aback.
“It’s my first time at one of the meetings,” he said finally. “And Tanner Keltin, by the way. K-E-L-T-I-N,” he added, anticipating the question.
“I remember my first meeting,” the man said as he rummaged through his list. He stopped about two-thirds of the way through, squinted, and added a check mark next to Tanner’s name. “Have you met Onyx before?”
“Yes,” Tanner blurted out. “Well, no. I mean, we’ve talked.”
“He’s an incredible speaker,” the man said, his eyes flashing with joy. He sifted through the pile of lanyards and gave Tanner the one with his name on it. “You’re in for a real treat.”
Tanner placed the lanyard around his neck. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and headed past the check-in table.
There were already lots of people congregating in the room’s assembly area. Tanner estimated the crowd at almost a thousand. He wasn’t sure if that was an impressive number or disappointing.
He walked up slowly to a group of three standing in a circle at the edge of the assembly. “Hey! New guy, huh?” one of the three said, raising his head as a greeting. He was bald, with the makings of a goatee coming in under his lip.
Tanner shook all three of their hands. The man with the goatee had a crushing grip, and Tanner berated himself internally for his weak handshake. He resolved to project the strength he knew he was capable of.
“I’m Tanner,” he said, keeping his jaw taut as he spoke. The others introduced themselves—Tanner remained too on edge to commit any of their names to memory—and resumed their discussion.
“We were just talking about how we got involved,” one of the three, a short woman with thick eyebrows and a hawkish glare, said. “For me, it was alcohol. Four months ago, cops found me blacked out in front of one of the drinking dens in the eastern districts. Got committed to rehab. Turns out, the chairperson for my first meeting was Offspring. They helped me get clean.”
“Same for me,” the third one said. He was uncannily thin, with an intense stare that made Tanner uncomfortable when he looked at him. “Except it was drugs. It’s kind of bullshit...the Union has legalized some of the most dangerous substances in the known universe because the prime minister is too lazy to actually enforce the laws. It’s legalized degeneracy, I tell you. And it almost killed me. The Offspring gave me back my life.”
“Hear hear,” the bald man said. “The writing’s on the wall: they’re pouring poison down our throats, keeping us docile and compliant, all while the invaders are at the gates.”
“Fucking newars,” the hawkish-looking woman said. “They have no right to be here.”
“Newar scum,” Tanner blurted out to looks of approval from the other three. It felt good to be around people that just got it.
Loud cheering from the front of the crowd interrupted them. “Let’s quiet down and pay attention,” Tanner said to the others as they continued to converse. The other three instantly obeyed him. A thin smile spread across Tanner’s face.
Then he turned his attention to the front of the room, where a short, barrel-chested man with a thick neck was standing on a pile of crates. Tanner had never seen him in person, but something told him that this was Onyx.
“That’s Onyx!” the hawkish-looking woman said, all starry-eyed. Guess that answers that, Tanner thought.
There was a tall man with cropped hair and a severe expression flanking Onyx. “That must be Chet Borro,” the intense, thin man said. “He’s pretty high up in Obrigan City PD. And he’s been helping Onyx set things up since the beginning.” Tanner instantly respected both Onyx and Chet. They were men, the kind Tanner wanted to be.
The basement room was hardly a dramatic backdrop for their meeting. Exposed pipes ran along the ceiling, with crusted mold visible in more than a few spots. The pipes looked rusty and on the verge of collapse. Whole sections of the walls were peeling off. And yet, the energy of the crowd radiated a powerful gravity that belied their humble surroundings.
Onyx held up his hands and the cheering died down. Right then, the actual concert must have started upstairs. Although muted, Tanner could make out the distinctive and sudden blaring of the horns, the sweet melodies of the electronic stringed instruments, the insistent thumping of the percussion, and the melodic swirls of the synth boards. Tanner wondered if Onyx had planned to line up his entrance with the start of the concert.
“Brothers and sisters, friends and allies,” Onyx said, and the cheering of the crowd continued once more. “I look around and I see the bravest of the brave. I see the people who have stood up for our system and our way of life in the face of indifference and cowardice from our own government. And in the face of the most serious threat we’ve ever seen.”
“NATONUS BELONGS TO US,” the crowd shouted in unison. Tanner looked over at the trio, who cast their voices in with the others. Like they had practiced the chants a dozen times before. Tanner felt a longing in his heart for that kind of unity, that kind of solidarity. Of belonging.
“We’ve made real progress in the past few months,” Onyx continued. “We’ve been growing our ranks. And now, we are legion. We have traveled to the outskirts of the city and stared down our enemies face to face. Our protest at the newars’ cabin showed that we will no longer hide in the shadows. We will always be here to serve in the defense of Natonus! We have made our message loud and clear: others may turn a blind eye to the invasion of our s
ystem, but not us!”
The crowd roared another round of “NATONUS BELONGS TO US,” and Tanner joined in this time. There was something powerful about feeling his voice disappear into the chorus. The shouting of the others around him reverberated in his breast and spread throughout his torso.
“But that is not enough,” Onyx continued. “The time is coming when words and anger alone won’t suffice. Our organization has never been about empty rhetoric. We all came together because we have a common vision of reclaiming the virtues of our civilization. And because we are willing to take action to realize that vision.
“A critical moment is about to approach. Soon, the invaders’ beachhead on Calimor will be destroyed. Once the dust clears, we must combine our strength and strike with vigor. And together, we will push the remaining newars back out of the system!”
The cheers afterward were deafening. For the first time in his memory, Tanner felt himself lose full control of his body. It was like his own shouting and screaming was just a drop in a larger wave. He felt the energy of the crowd pulse through his body, enjoying the feeling of connectedness. Everyone in the room was part of something bigger now.
Slowly, as the chants and the shouts died down, people dispersed or reorganized into small discussion groups. Not Tanner. He wanted to talk to Onyx. Leaving the trio, he walked to the front of the room and waited nearly half an hour as Onyx made the rounds. The one named Chet Borro followed Onyx around, but mostly stayed silent.
Finally, Onyx caught sight of Tanner and walked over. “You must be Tanner Keltin,” he said instantly.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“Because I see the potential in you,” Onyx explained. “You’ve been noncommittal so far, but the raw force of your willpower shines through every time we talk. You are made for bigger and better things than the life you’ve settled for. Are you ready to do whatever it takes to defend this system, young man?” he barked.
“I am,” Tanner said, straightening his back and crossing his hands behind his back. The other man’s gaze swept up and down his form.