Dyson's Drop (22 page)

Black was probably the only person - not counting the Envoy - to suspect that Dyson Enterprises did not need protecting, not from anyone in this galaxy. The problem was that Black was not the only combatant ‘picked up’ by the unanchored teleportation web Dyson had developed.

Indeed, two thirds of his troops on Dyson’s Drop had been tampered with. Aware of the implications that the
Mqjoris Corporata
might never trust him and his troops again, he had had each captured trooper selectively brain-wiped. Although each still remembered being teleported and winding up in a holding camp, none recalled anything else, certainly no unusual surgical procedures.

All of which left Black with just two problems. One, could he afford to trust these troops again? And two, could he trust
himself
again?

‘They knew who you were, Envoy,’ Black said two days after he returned to the ship. He had just interviewed Heller, thanking him for his excellent work down on the planet and complimenting him on his audacious recovery from certain death. When Heller had left, Black steepled his fingers and peered over them at the silent Envoy.

‘There’s something about that young man,’ he said.

‘Something?’

‘I think we can expect big things from him.’

‘He is bold and brave.’

Black frowned. ‘There’s something else, something I can’t put my finger on. I like him.’

‘Yet you like no one.’

‘Maybe I’m mellowing.’

‘This seems unlikely.’

‘Fine. Have it your way. In that case, I admire him. He might almost -’

‘Be you. If you had never been captured by slavers.’

Black’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s classified informa tion, Envoy.’

The Envoy stared back, his expression Impen etrable, enigmatic. ‘You have the marks of the ex-slave. I can read things. Mannerisms. Expressions. Personality traits. All printed indelibly on your being.’ Black got himself under control. ‘Can you teach me how?’

‘Yes. We begin tomorrow.’

Black accepted that, then decided to score a point by repetition. ‘They knew who you were.’

‘The surgeons?’

‘Yes. They said you were a caretaker species, concerned with time.’

As always, the Envoy seemed unperturbed. ‘They are correct. Interesting they should know this, but more interesting they should tell you. This will add to my data. Perhaps they see the path as I do.’

‘The path?’

‘The way ahead. A storm is gathering. Many paths are closed to it, channelling it to its final destination.’

‘So you’ve said. And I am that path?’

‘One of several.’

Black eyed the Envoy. This was the first time the creature had alluded to an alternative. Was there someone else the Envoy was grooming? The thought unsettled Black. As unlikely as it might be, imagine if it were Anneke Longshadow .. .

As promised, Black began training with the Envoy the next day. This kept him in his cabin for much of the trip to Kanto Kantoris but, given his mood, that was a plus. In any case, space travel bored him.

That changed the night they reached Kanto.

The first sign was the blare of the ship’s alarms. Black woke, instantly alert, and slapped the comm panel next to his bed.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Intruder alarm, sir,’ came the nervous voice of the night duty officer.

‘Intruders have boarded the ship?’

Hesitation. ‘We’re not . . . sure, sir. None of the hatches have been accessed and there are no hull breaches.’

‘N-space
radiation?’

‘No, sir. No one has teleported on board. The shields would have stopped that in any case.’

‘Don’t assume anything.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

‘Keep me apprised.’ He punched the off button and slid out of bed. Dressing quickly, he pulled on light body armour and field protectors. The Envoy had succeeded in convincing him he should not take chances, even small ones.

Black reached the control room in record time. The Envoy was already there. Black suspected he never slept.

‘Somebody report!’

‘There appears to be an intruder,’ the Envoy said. ppears to be?’ The Envoy was always precise in how he used the Lykis dialect. ‘We’re not sure?’

‘The facts are these: at approximately oh-one hundred hours a random sensor sweep, which preceded the regular sweep by some five minutes, identified a new biosign on board. Female.’

Black stiffened, but said nothing.

The Envoy went on: ‘However, the sensor logs show that a male biosign ceased to exist at around the same time.’

‘We have to assume Anneke Longshadow is on board. How, I do not know ...’ He frowned suddenly.

‘Something’s not right. How did she get on board without setting off any alarms? This isn’t just any ship. And who did she kill?’

‘The missing biosign belongs to Jinks Heller.’ Black’s eyes snapped up, locking with the Envoy’s.

His unique brain digested this information. Then he smiled, though it wasn’t a pleasant smile. And it didn’t last.

‘There was no intruder,’ said Black.

The lieutenant under Heller blurted, ‘But, sir. We definitely have a new biosign!’

‘I said no
intruder.
But we do have a stowaway.’

The young lieutenant stared, uncomprehending. nneke Longshadow has been on board the ship since we left Lykis. Anneke Longshadow is, or was, Jinks Heller,’ Black explained. ‘If you reconfigure the sensors for a full metal jacket, I think you will discover that I am right.’

The lieutenant winced at ‘full metal jacket’ as if he could readily imagine the pain it entailed.

‘Find her at once!’ Black snapped. ‘Find her now.

She’ll be trying to leave the ship.’

Black sat down in the Commander’s chair, fuming. Anneke Longshadow. Here. In the palm of his hand and he had never suspected. Worse, she had duped him. Like he’d been a first-year cadet. Like he was a fool.

As he sat, silently watching the hunt for his nemesis, his fury grew.

‘Sir, an escape pod has just been launched. Two biosigns on board.’

‘Two?’

‘The other belongs to Sergeant Yosira Veene.’

‘Destroy it.’

‘Sir, Yosira may be a hostage.’

‘Then she will pay for her stupidity. Destroy it. And don’t question my orders again, lieutenant.’

The lieutenant swallowed, turned to tactical, and gave the order. A pulse of high energy light streaked from the ship and blew the tiny spacecraft into atoms. Then the lieutenant said, ‘Wait a second. Another pod just launched. And there goes another.’ The lieutenant frowned, studying his readout. ‘Sir, every single pod from one bank has launched.’

‘Do they all contain biosigns?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Destroy them all.’

A moment later the lieutenant, pale, trying not to shake, turned to Black. ‘Sir, we managed to destroy all but one.’

‘Interesting. What was the reason for your failure?’

‘Sir, that pod was equipped with a deflector field and it outmanoeuvred our weapons AI,’ he said, unable to meet Black’s eyes.

Black got to his feet. ‘I will be in my quarters. Envoy?’

Black paced while the Envoy watched, motionless.

‘Damn that woman. Damn her to hell and back. How does she do it?’

‘We must focus on the lost coordinates,’ said the

Envoy.

Black stopped pacing and gazed out a large porthole at the planet below. It was dark brown and blue with patches of purple.

‘Contact the Kantorians. You know the plan. Get the team ready.’

Three hours later, Black’s shuttle docked at the central landing field in the capital city, Qule. He and his team were disguised as - and using the cover story of - an arms delegation from the neighbouring but distant world of Golag, which lay on the other side of the Needles - a region of disrupted space caused by
n-space
snakeholes. Visits between the two systems were thus few and far between.

Black was impressed with Qule.

The city was built on, and had grown out of, an ancient fortification. The heavy stone style of the fort infused later architecture. The entire city of Qule was one massive conglomeration, revelling in its notoriety as one of the most militarised civilisations within many parsecs. Everywhere, massive stone walls towered over streets and buildings; each embedded with gun emplacements and sensor towers. Stone columns, many more than a hundred metres high and intricately carved with martial images, lined the streets and spoke eloquently of Qule’s Herculean past. Most impressive of all, Black thought, were the colossal step pyramids, reminiscent of Lykis’s past, that sat here and there, grim, squat, symbolising a ponderous, eternal power.

Yet despite harking back to the past, this stone work and grand architecture were interlaced with modern technology: fast transit tubes, walkways, a bustling market economy and checkpoints festooned with modern sensors and weapons.

Qule was, if nothing else, a monument to power.
Just my kind if place,
Black thought.
It might be interesting to reconstruct this on the world I choose as capital
if the galaxy.

The groundcar dropped Black, the Envoy, and twelve others at the Trade Commission headquarters, a sombre stone building. The driver had zealously informed them it was once the head of the Kantorian Secret Police. She’d shuddered dramatically recounting hair-raising tales from her childhood about the place.

Black thanked her politely, slamming the door on her final effusive gush about enjoying his visit.

‘Remind me to ask for a different driver on the way back,’ he told Riktar, head of the security

‘delegation’. The newly promoted Riktar nodded, but said nothing. The man was built like a battlement, had the beetling brow of a Neanderthal and was as humourless as the Envoy.

Inside the Commission headquarters a flunky guided them through the bureaucratic red tape and took them to meet the Eng Roag, Trade Ambassador. Roag, a tall, gaunt, ascetic individual, looked as if he might flail himself in private, driving out imagined demons.

He bowed slightly when they were introduced.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Olak Maxus,’ said Roag, using the cover name Black had chosen. He didn’t know if the notoriety of Nathaniel Brown had reached this far, but he was taking no chances. The second set of lost coordinates was hidden on this planet and nothing must be allowed to jeopardise his search for it.

‘And you, Ambassador.’

‘I have ordered refreshments. Please sit.’ Black did so. The Envoy and Riktar remained standing. The others in the adjacent chamber were being served food and drink as was the custom. No official discussions could proceed until formalities had been observed.

‘You have come a long way, Olak. We rarely receive visitors from Golag.’

Black didn’t tell him that was the idea. He took a bite of a savoury pastry and said, ‘I hope that this is the first of many then. Navigating the Needles is not easy, but we have developed new methods to minimise the danger.’

‘I wasn’t aware of this. Perhaps you should talk to our engineers while you are here. I will set up a meeting.’

‘You are too kind.’

Formalities over, Roag got to the point. ‘What do you wish of us, Olak?’

Black leaned forward. He had a large array of sample weaponry and field equipment he was sure these people had never seen. He was happy to give away samples and take orders. To showcase his inventory he activated a holopic in the air to his left and proceeded to work through the spiel devised earlier.

When it was done, Roag sat back, clearly salivating at the sophisticated armaments. ‘We had no idea Golag was so advanced.’

Black gave a quick smile. ‘We have been in contact with other races you may not have heard of And our perpetual attempts to conquer the Needles have yielded unexpected insights into new areas.’

Roag stood. ‘I will organise the negotiations immediately. Is there anything else?’

‘There is, actually. We discovered yesterday that we had a stowaway on board who we believe to be an agent of a now-defunct organisation. We would very much like to find her and question her.’

‘How may I be of help?’

‘She launched an escape pod and landed somewhere on your planet. We have the frequency signature of the pod ...’

‘And you would like a satellite search? I am yours to serve, Olak. At once. Would you excuse me a moment?’

‘Of course.’

Roag left. While he was gone, Black signed the other two to silence. He assumed the room was bugged. He would have done the same.

While he waited he amused himself studying the room’s floor-to-ceiling tapestries. Like the massive stone columns that marched across the city, they showed scenes from Kanto’s military past. Interestingly, it seemed that Kanto had once played a significant role in the affairs of the galaxy. Black half-remembered a strategically important item that Kanto had claimed to hold at that time. Some scenes were spectacular. RIM was represented there, as were the Sentinels, alongside the Old Empire dreadnoughts.

As he realised that the tapestries told an ongoing story, he heard Roag returning. He turned back to his seat, then stopped, staring at a sequence in the right hand corner of the final tapestry. His brows knitted, and as Roag, followed by an underling, entered the room, he mentally photographed the illustration.

‘I have been successful. If one of your men could remain behind, a security officer will be along shortly to take him to our main surveillance centre. I am sure the escape pod can be located quickly.’

‘I am in your debt,’ said Black. ‘Riktar will stay and I look forward to our negotiations.’

‘In the meantime, I have requisitioned accommodation for you and your delegation and have taken the liberty of organising entertainment. Tomorrow, you shall be taken on a tour of our great city. Until tomorrow, then.’

‘Before you go, Ambassador, a question.’

Roag stopped, smiling politely, as if to say, I’m a busy man, make this quick. Black bowed by way of apology. ‘I have been admiring your tapestries, an interest of mine. Could you tell me, are these old?’

Roag’s smile became genuine.
‘Very
old, Olak.