Molehunt (24 page)

At the laboratory he climbed into a template renovation unit and lay there for an hour while the machine repaired the worst damage done by Ackie and his men. The work was not as thorough as could be done by a living renovator, so he set the unit not to fix permanently, but to fix cosmetically. He was busy, so that would do for now.

When the renovation was finished, he climbed out, feeling raw and shaky, as if every centimetre of his flesh had been scraped with a wire brush. He drank a cocktail of boost-vitamins and electrolytes, and then went to the observation room. There he was greeted with splendid news.

He had been gone eleven hours and thirty-six minutes, and in that time the transformations of his subjects had been completed. The recorders told him the exact time transmogrification had taken place, a crucial piece of information.

Staring through the slit window at the three transmogrified human specimens, Maximus could not help grinning. The ancient pagans would have said the gods were on his side. Maybe they were right, because the results were auspicious.

There was one more test to make, then his project would be ready for shipment.

He pressed buttons on the console in front of him and three panels opened, one in each cell. Inside each was an untransformed human. They were down-towners, who would not be missed. When they saw what awaited them in the cells, they screamed.

The screams were replaced by the sound of ripping flesh and crunching bone.

Maximus sat back, sated.

The gods had sent him as a wolf among sheep.

He promptly sent his pets to their new home.

Maximus walked into Lotang's headquarters unopposed. Lotang was waiting for him, perched on his throne, Alisk at his side. She glared at Maximus, her hatred palpable.

‘Have you done as I asked?' said Maximus.

‘I've done as you ordered,' said Lotang, his teeth clenched, muscles spasming along his jaw.

Maximus shrugged. ‘Call it whatever you like. How soon?'

‘An hour. It takes time. Some can only appear holographically.'

‘I can live with that.'

‘You shouldn't be living at all!' Alisk shouted.

Lotang put a hand on her arm as if to restrain her, his voice soothing. ‘Calm yourself, Alisk. In the great game of galactic chess, Nathaniel has outplayed us this time. Let us admire the skill of his move and learn from it. Besides, if you kill him, you kill me.'

Alisk forced herself to take a deep breath, never taking her eyes from the Rimmer.

‘Nice pet you keep there,' Maximus said, flicking Alisk a look.

‘I'm sure you have your own,' said Lotang. ‘But tell me, Mr Brown, since I have a personal interest in this matter. What is to stop me from having you tortured so barbarically, so irreversibly, that you decide it is better to tell me the secret of the slave narcotic than to go on enduring that which is unendurable?'

Maximus popped a liquorice lozenge into his mouth. ‘For one thing, you've already had me tortured. Didn't work then.'

‘I have thought on that. You undoubtedly had an array of pain dampeners in place. These can be removed. Indeed, there are ways to enhance sensitivity to pain, so that the tiniest prick of a pin would have you chewing the tongue out of your own mouth. But you had something else to add?'

‘I no longer have the secret in my head. I had it removed with a mnemonic scalpel.'

Almost imperceptibly, Lotang's face fell. If Maximus had not been looking for it he would never have detected the disappointment. The man had superb control.

‘Why do you not just kill me and take over?' Lotang asked after a brief pause.

‘The succession.'

‘I am to name you?'

‘Today. You will say you are soon stepping down for health reasons, which will be obvious to anyone who looks at you. You will say that I am being groomed to replace you.'

‘Why not immediately?'

‘Come now, you know the answer to that. The cartel members will need time to adjust to the new circumstances, to get used to me. As will your … devoted followers.' His eyes went to Alisk again who stared back haughtily. He would have to kill her, no question. It was a pity, but some pets serve only one master.

Fifty minutes later Alisk led them to a small amphitheatre, laid out like an ancient Greek stone theatre, with modern hi-tech holographic emitters and schematics, and more security shielding than planetary presidents possessed.

Two dozen men and women were present who, along with several holographic doppelgangers, represented the major galactic Corporations and Clans, including the Big Five. Lotang had not only been busy, but effective in summoning so many so fast.

Maximus had selected the right puppet. When all was ready Lotang stood up. Silence fell.

‘I am Lob Lotang,' he said. ‘Do any here challenge me?'

There were some upraised eyebrows, but no one broke the silence.

‘I have been the Chairman of the Cartel now for six years, ever since the death of my predecessor.' Sniggers broke out. ‘And I am de facto CEO of the
Majoris Corporata
.'

There was a shocked gasp. Even here, they did not mention the forbidden entity openly.
How interesting
, thought Maximus.
The etiquette of the underworld
.

A vigorous middle-aged man with iron-grey hair stood up, his face flushed. ‘Bodanis,' he said, naming himself as was custom. ‘Imperial Standard. What gives you the right to name the thing we do not name?'

Lotang eyed the man, waiting till he had resumed his seat.

‘Changed circumstances, my colleague. With respect, I have an announcement to make.' He glanced sideways at Maximus. ‘Due to ill health, I will be taking a less active role from now on. I will therefore name my successor and ask you to give him your utmost support and loyalty.'

The room erupted, everyone shouting vainly to be heard.

‘Order!' Lotang thundered, and the shouting dwindled to low murmurs.

Lotang told the group he had been grooming a highly trusted lieutenant in secret for some time now. He then bowed low to the assembled men and women and sat down.

Maximus rose from his seat, his face calm. His moment had come. ‘My name is Brown. Nathaniel Brown. We will be doing things differently from now on.'

Bodanis stood up, his complexion muddy, his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘The articles of our incorporation do not require that we accept you. By what right do you assume leadership here?'

‘By the right of succession and the right of histaki.' A hush fell and all eyes went to Lotang who remained immobile as stone.

‘Histaki?' said Bodanis. ‘As compensation for injury?'

Maximus nodded. Histaki was an ancient form of contractual obligation. Invoked only in the rarest of circumstances, it allowed the injured party to assume control and, to some extent, complete ownership of all his defendant's assets in the event that he bested them in combat. In this enlightened age, of course, combat meant the great galactic game of strategic move and countermove.

Bodanis spat on the floor. ‘Histaki is not called for. Histaki is outdated.'

‘Do you speak for all?'

Bodanis looked around at the assembled faces. It was clear he did not speak for all. The ancient rites had power in the room even if the ancient gods did not. Histaki, it seemed, would be observed. Bodanis scowled again but remained standing.

‘Something else?' asked Maximus pleasantly.

‘If I am not mistaken, Histaki requires a fiduciary gift, a dowry if you like, to those whose loyalty is required. Even the
Septum Misora
acknowledges this.'

Maximus gave Bodanis a short bow. He then told the Cartel what Lotang had told Anneke: he was close to the first lost coordinates and was working on where the second coordinates might be found. The silence that greeted this knowledge was profound. If events up to now had been shocking, this information left even Bodanis speechless.

Finally another speaker rose. ‘Sasume. Myoto Corporation.' She bowed slightly. Her features which once would have been called Asiatic, were tense. ‘Are we to understand that, when you have all three coordinates, you will seek to recover the imperial weapon caches, then distribute them?'

‘Yes.'

‘To members of the Cartel?'

‘You understand correctly. There will of course be a fee for the distribution. Business goes on. A profit must be made.'

Lotang smiled thinly.

Sasume sat down. Sniggers broke out again, but this time they meant acceptance of both Maximus and the lure of galactic mayhem.

Mostly.

Bodanis lumbered to his feet again. ‘Who says you will be successful?'

Maximus smirked. ‘If I'm not, then depose me, old man.'

Bodanis surged forward but others restrained him. Flushed and angry, he bellowed like a wounded bull. ‘“Old man”? I'll give you “old man”, you little rat!'

Bodanis was made to sit down; order restored.

‘It is time to ratify the
Majoris Corporata
,' said Maximus.

Deadly silence followed. Sasume from Myoto stood once more. ‘Begging your pardon, but why ratify what until now has remained a ghost? To make that ghost corporeal would be to invite the harshest response from RIM and the Sentinels. Presently, we are merely an annoyance to them, one among many in the galaxy. We should remain a minor annoyance until we are ready.'

She resumed her seat amid murmurs of agreement.

Maximus had anticipated this response. ‘Until we are ready, you say? A fine phrase, but how is readiness measured? Indeed, do we become ready when we choose or when we are compelled? I say, historical circumstance chooses. Our task is to guide the great hand of history so that the game is played
our
way.'

The group was swayed. There was a roar of approval.

‘It is time to choose sides,' said Maximus. ‘Let us vote.'

Hands darted out to press buttons on the arms of chairs. The tally appeared on a crystal screen visible by all. The outcome was almost unanimous.

Only Sasume abstained.

Maximus gazed at Bodanis. But the man seemed to have reconsidered his position.
He's no fool
. Then Maximus redirected his attention to his dissenter. ‘I ask that you reconsider.'

Sasume stared back, poker-faced.

‘I am sorry then,' said Maximus.

Sasume stood and quickly left the room, followed by two colleagues. Maximus turned a sorrowful face to the remainder of the assembly. ‘It is my sad duty to declare Myoto expelled.'

Gasps could be heard across the room. No Corporation or Clan had been ostracised in living memory. It meant no further dealings with the Myoto Corporation or any of its members: no business, no exchanges, nothing. From this moment on, Myoto did not exist.

Everyone knew what that meant. The next logical step would be to issue a
deathword
against them.

The order of annihilation.

‘You're either with us or against us,' said Maximus.

One by one, albeit slowly, the clans once again voted.

Three hours later, as he headed back to his hotel, Myoto retaliated. Maximus suspected that Myoto had beaten him to it, issuing a
deathword
against him personally. He'd expected a counter strike – just not this quickly. No one could interfere. This was strictly between Myoto and Nathaniel Brown, though technically he could call upon Quesada for support. Or could he? He had been formally sworn in but the transfer of power, the
investment
, did not kick in until midnight.

Touché
, thought Maximus.

He was on a threader, locked in, trapped. His success at the takeover had dulled his natural paranoia and alertness. When the ultra-reflective missile shot up from the surface, boosted by a plasma pusher beam, he had time for one sick moment of realisation, then it hit. Fortunately, the threader field acted as a partial dampener on the effect and precision of the missile, and it struck the forward section of the threader. The blast was also deflected and shunted aside. Several people died instantly, others survived the initial blast only to begin falling.