Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) (20 page)

She immediately caught sight of Jericho, who was seated in a
padded, red-upholstered chair opposite a much larger chair—and that chair
contained a strange, unnerving, yet oddly familiar sight.

The ‘man’ seated in the massive, ornate, complicated,
throne-shaped mechanism had unnaturally pale skin, vaguely pink-colored irises,
and facial features which she actually recognized—even though this person was
nowhere near as obese as what Masozi now took to be his offspring. Quite the
opposite, in fact, as this man appeared to be emaciated almost to an impossible
degree. His arms and legs were locked into contractures and his head was leaned
slightly to one side as his body had apparently become a crooked mockery of the
human form.

“Welcome to my home, my dear,” a synthesized, but mostly
human-sounding voice, came from the chair as it turned. She saw that the man
seated within had not moved even one inch when he—or, the chair—had spoken. “I
am delighted you were able to join us. Please, have a seat.” A seat was brought
forward by another uniformed man, who looked remarkably similar to the one who
had brought her to the Observation Deck, and placed beside Jericho.

Masozi approached the center of the platform, knowing she
was well out of her depth if the man in the bio-chair was who she suspected, so
she sat down in the proffered seat silently.

“Would you like refreshment, Investigator?” the chair’s
synthesized, distinctly male, voice asked. Another uniformed person—this one a
woman, whose sharp nose and platinum blonde hair would have been the envy of
every woman in New Lincoln—brought an actual, paper, menu for Masozi to peruse.
Masozi accepted the menu with a nod of thanks but was unable to tear her eyes
from the incredible chair housing the shriveled, desiccated man who was
apparently her host.

“Thank you…” she said uncertainly before adding, “Director.”

“Please,” the man replied, as the barest hint of a smile
tugged at his thin, violet lips, “only my employees use that title. I would
appreciate if you called me ‘Stephen,’ ‘S.R.’ or, if you insist on formality,
‘Mr. Hadden’.”

“Very well…Mr. Hadden,” she said tensely. She realized her
fingers had begun to tremble and she quickly clamped her hand into a fist to
stop the sensation.

“You have been asleep for several days, Investigator,”
Director Hadden said, and Masozi thought she detected an amused note in his
voice, “please…indulge your appetite.”

Masozi looked at the menu and hardly knew where to begin. It
was filled with delicacies which made the Casa Mia pasta she had shared with
Jericho and Benton seem like street-side takeout by comparison. She actually
had to double-take at several of the listed items before shaking her head. “I
wouldn’t know where to begin,” she admitted before handing the menu back to the
woman.

Hadden’s body was wracked with a soft series of convulsions
which alarmed Masozi at first, but then she realized he was laughing as his
lips had peeled back into a broad grin.

“Clever girl,” he said approvingly, “it is my considered
opinion that menus have no place in civilized society. Bring her a sampler of
the kitchen’s latest creations,” he said casually, and the platinum blonde
woman nodded curtly before heading off down the stairs toward the far base of
the Observation Deck’s pyramidal floor.

“Thank you,” Masozi belatedly called after the woman, and
then realized she had given Director Hadden another cause for laughter.

“Forgive me, Investigator,” he said warmly as his body
continued to twitch with laughter, “I so rarely receive guests in my home, and
admit that I find myself quite taken with you. It is a pity we could not meet
under less turbulent circumstances.” His chair turned slightly and Hadden’s
pinkish eyes looked up to the transparent dome above, through which Masozi
could see the awe-inspiring rings of Chambliss as her gaze followed his and she
marveled in the beauty of the place. “I have dedicated my life to mastering the
stars by bringing them within our collective grasp,” Hadden explained. “But as
I approach the end of that life, I find my thoughts have turned from extending
our reach into the unknown, toward mastering that which is already within our
grasp. This view reminds me of our place in the cosmos and I only hope it has
the same, profound, effect on my guests.”

Masozi was acutely aware that Jericho had said nothing to
that point in the conversation, and she stole a glance at him. He was studying
her intently and she came to the conclusion that all of this was some sort of
test.

“A month ago,” she began after considering her reply, “I
would have considered myself lucky to eventually afford just one cruise to the
Rings of Chambliss during my entire life.” She shook her head in wonderment as
the reality of her next words sank in while she said them, “I’m honestly not
sure if I should be grateful for this…this majesty you’ve decided to share with
me.”

“Well said, Investigator,” Hadden said seriously, “well
said. Without meaningful pursuits, what is life but a sequence of increasingly
predictable stimuli? And what then becomes of us when we exhaust the horizon of
imagination?”

“Stephen,” Jericho interrupted dryly, “you know I could
listen to you philosophize until the stars wink out but we’re on a schedule.”

Hadden rolled his eyes as he turned his massive chair to
face Jericho. “You must forgive him, Investigator,” the chair-bound Director
quipped, “whatever imagination he may have once possessed has long-since been
exhausted. I suppose, then, one could say we have the answer to my posited
question sitting right here before us.”

Masozi snickered, “Now
there
’s a depressing thought.”

Hadden’s body was wracked with another series of laughter
spasms, and even Jericho couldn’t keep half of a short-lived grin from his
face. “You are absolutely delicious, my dear,” Director Hadden said as the platinum
blonde woman appeared at the far rope-line bearing a large platter with a
transparent cloche. “Please indulge yourself; being unable to enjoy the
creations myself, I can only ever experience them vicariously.”

The blonde woman set the tray down on a nearby table, and
Masozi stood to examine its contents. The array of food was absolutely
stunning, ranging from the exquisite, to the wondrous, to the truly bizarre.
Being an inquisitive soul, she selected a handful of inexplicable pieces—in
addition to a few of the safer options—and resumed her seat as the blonde woman
brought a container with some sort of fruit juice cocktail in it.

As Masozi ate, she felt the weight of Director Hadden’s gaze
on her and she was more than a little self-conscious as a result.

“How fares my son, Jericho?” Hadden asked suddenly, and
Masozi almost choked on a bite of sushi—which she had assumed to be octopus,
but was both disturbed and surprised by the wholly foreign flavors which
greeted her mouth after biting into it.

Jericho hesitated and Masozi shot him a wary look. She had
come to expect him to reply directly and promptly, and hearing him fail to
reply quickly was surprising…and intriguing.

“He’s doing what he loves,” Jericho replied carefully with a
shrug of his shoulders. “If only we could all
be
so
fortunate.”

Hadden’s synthesized voice sighed. “Even though he refuses
to take my place in the corporation, as his father I believe that I should
provide for his lifestyle for as long as I am capable—the stars only know that
I am more than capable of doing so.”

Jericho ground his teeth silently, and Masozi could tell
there was something else he had wanted to say but was uncertain. Eventually he
leaned forward and said, “He’s not taking the gene therapy you suggested, if
that’s what you’re really asking, Stephen.”

There was a tense silence for several seconds. “That was
indeed among the queries I would have answered, Jericho,” Hadden replied as
Masozi bit into an egg which contained some sort of half-developed, reptilian
embryo within. It was surprisingly good, although the crunching of the bones
was a little off-putting at first. “I have long given up hope that he would
carry my family name forward, but I cannot say I disagree with his decision
entirely since I, myself, have been less than well-pleased with the insufferable
experience of this chair.” Silence lingered for several, unexpectedly tense
moments before Hadden added, “I appreciate your honesty, Jericho—of all the men
I have known, I have never been given cause to doubt your integrity. I would
not take advantage of that…peculiar attribute.”

Jericho nodded, seemingly satisfied that the subject had
been navigated correctly but the truth was Masozi had little idea what the
other two were talking about. She had deduced that Wladimir Benton had been
Hadden’s son the moment she had laid eyes on the elder, but the subtext of the
interplay between Director Hadden and Jericho was utterly lost on her.

“I have made a decision,” Hadden said unexpectedly, “as soon
as you are finished with your meal, you should both make your way to my Medical
Sciences division. Jericho can complete his orthopedic repairs there, and my
doctors will give the Investigator a thorough going-over to ensure that her
system is fully recovered from her recent tribulations. When you have finished
there, I will arrange transport for the two of you to your next destination.”

Jericho stood from his chair and nodded in thanks. “You know
that in my current capacity, I—we,” he corrected with a look toward Masozi,
“can’t accept anything from you beyond room, board, and transport.” He said it
as though such was a well-known fact—which, to Masozi, it was not.

“Of course,” Hadden replied warmly, “but as guests in my
sovereign territory, you must comply with my medical protocols. Failure to do
so will result in immediate ejection from the nearest airlock.”

Masozi’s food—a portion of what looked like pasta but was,
in fact, a smattering of cleverly-separated and blanched meat fibers which
tasted distinctly like pork—caught in her throat at Hadden’s off-handed mention
of possible summary execution.

But Jericho bowed at the waist, appearing utterly unfazed.
“We will happily comply with your facility’s medical protocols.”

“Good boy,” Hadden said, and Masozi saw a flash of annoyance
cross Jericho’s face. “Until later, my dear,” the chair-bound man said before
turning and making his way down the far stairs, his chair’s hover-field
generators allowing him to glide down the gently decline.

When he had gone, Jericho turned to Masozi and smirked. “I
think he likes you.”

After nearly ten hours of being poked, prodded, measured,
stripped, clothed, stripped again, and clothed again in increasingly bizarre
outfits, Masozi stepped out of the Medical Sciences laboratory with more aches
and pains than she had thought possible.

The ‘doctors’ inside that particular department had made her
undergo rigorous physical exercises, pushing her body to the its current breaking
point before conducting strange neurological examinations the purpose of which
Masozi could not hope to guess.

“Turn your head and cough,” she heard Jericho say from down
the hall, and she turned to see him seated on a bench a dozen meters or so
away. He was smirking, but judging from his sweat-stained shirt they had
subjected him to a similar battery of tests—which seemed odd since he was
supposed to have undergone hip surgery.

“If I never see another doctor…” she muttered as she rubbed
her wrist, grateful to have the Auto-Doc attachment finally removed from it.

“They’re a necessary evil,” Jericho quipped as he got to his
feet, “probably
the
most necessary
evil
.”

“If I’d wanted to get disrobed, poked, prodded, groped, photographed
in the act of doing so, and then made to feel ashamed about it all afterward,”
she grumbled, “I would have gotten drunk, stripped my clothes off and wandered
down to the nearest frat-house. At least then I might not have been conscious
for the experience.”

Jericho, surprisingly, didn’t laugh at her dark humor but
instead nodded grimly. “At least that’s behind us. Let’s go see what our
benefactor has in store for us—if we’re going to get ahead of the people who
keep trying to have us killed we need to stay moving.”

They entered the lift at the end of the corridor, and after
it had begun its ascent Masozi ventured to ask a question which had made her
brain itch throughout the ‘medical examination.’ “How do you know Hadden?”

Jericho nodded, as though he had expected the question—a
mannerism which was beginning to wear rather thin on Masozi’s already frayed
patience. “An Adjuster isn’t granted access to public funding,” he explained.
“All Adjustment-necessary assets have to be acquired by using privately-donated
funds which are provided by willing members of the body politic. I suppose it
goes without saying that Stephen Hadden is my top financier.”

“But he’s one of the wealthiest men in the Sector,” she
argued. “He could back anything he wants and, essentially, you’d be nothing
more than his own private assassin.”

Jericho gave her an assessing look before replying,
“Thankfully there are protocols—too many to go into right now—which prevent
such an arrangement. One of the restrictions is that a financier has to prove a
direct connection to the targeted official’s offense; for example, an
out-of-system businessman would have a hard time justifying the funding she
provided for a local magistrate’s Adjustment. At the end of the day, the burden
lies largely with the Adjuster accepting the funds—if the Adjuster accepts
funding which was either unjustified or exceeded the Adjustment’s actual cost
then that Adjuster is, himself, Adjusted.”

“Who decides what an Adjustment will cost?” she asked, more
than a little relieved to be discussing anything other than her bodily
functions.

“There’s a formula,” he replied, “it’s not airtight, but it
does a good job of providing a guideline based on the target’s position on the
bureaucratic ladder, severity of their crimes, whether they’re currently in
office, et cetera. Generally there isn’t much cause for concern though; if a
financier isn’t coerced into providing exorbitant sums of money, we don’t look
too deeply into it. Not many Adjusters consider themselves public servants,
after all—there are as many mercenaries in the T.E. as there are those who
actually believe what they’re doing
is
for the good of
society.”

Masozi was surprised—or maybe the proper word was
‘pleased’—to hear him speak so frankly about a nagging issue which had arisen
in her thoughts about the T.E.

“But to answer your question more directly,” Jericho said as
the lift’s doors opened and they emerged into a giant cavern of some kind. It
was hundreds of meters across, roughly spherical, and filled with all manner of
buildings, vehicles, and other equipment the purpose of which Masozi could
guess. “I’m actually an employee of Hadden Enterprises,” he said as he took
several steps into the cavern before stopping and turning to her as she exited
the lift.

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” she asked guardedly as
she looked around the cavern, which was illuminated by hundreds of separate
lights scattered throughout the chamber.

“Not really,” Jericho replied, “everyone has to have a day
job. Mine gives me access to these facilities,” he swept the cavern with his
hand, “which serve as Hadden Enterprise’s testing grounds for many of their
products—a process in which my official position requires I participate.”

“Wait,” she stopped, unable to resist the opportunity,
“you’re a product tester?”

He shrugged noncommittally, “As I said: everyone has to have
a day job. I just happen to be doing what I love.”

She looked up at a nearby building which stood nearly two
hundred feet tall, and saw several ropes dangling from its windows at varying
heights. She understood after looking at that window how Jericho had planned
his exit from Mayor Cantwell’s office. “Impressive,” she said with genuine
appreciation.

He looked around the cavern and nodded before gesturing to
the lift tube. “I just wanted you to see it before we left,” he said as he made
his way to the lift, “we really should go meet Stephen—he despises tardiness.”

After they stepped into the lift, she cocked an eyebrow, “As
an employee, shouldn’t you be calling him ‘Director’?”

Jericho snorted softly. “Stephen and I have
an…
understanding which goes further than most people will
know. I consider him, and his son, true friends and colleagues when it comes to
my work
and
my life. I’m fortunate that they appear to feel the same.”

“Right on time,” Director Hadden said as soon as they
entered his office. It was surprisingly sparse in its appointments, with only a
large aquarium serving to break the blue-on-white motif of the walls and the
giant, blue planet-shaped emblem at the center of the circular office. “And
while I would like nothing more than to explore every nook and cranny of your
rich, fertile mind, Investigator,” he said and, though the words themselves
sounded lascivious, Masozi felt oddly complimented by them, “things have taken
an unexpected turn.” He moved his chair moved toward the center of the room and
said, “Please step onto the emblem and I will explain en route.”

Masozi could almost feel the tension which Jericho had
suddenly begun to exude, but he did as Director Hadden suggested and she did
likewise. When they were standing on the eight meter wide emblem—the diameter
of which was half that of the entire room—the floor surrounding it began to
recede like an iris. Masozi immediately understood the purpose for the sparse
appointments of Hadden’s office as the floor receded and the ceiling above
began to do likewise.

The planetary emblem began to slowly rise and the ceiling
above them opened to reveal a long, perfectly cylindrical shaft which was illuminated
from the far end at least a hundred meters above.

“It would seem our good friend, President Blanco, has
decided to pay me a visit,” Hadden said casually, and as he spoke a holographic
display sprung to life from his chair. It was a graphical representation of
Chambliss’ rings, with a blue icon at the center that Masozi assumed to be
Hadden Enterprise’s moon base where they currently were. However, there were
dozens of red icons converging on their position, and Masozi’s jaw fell open
when she saw that the icons had attached descriptions.

One of those descriptions read ‘V-SDF Destroyer:
Monitor,’
while another read ‘V-SDF Heavy Cruiser:
Cumberland
,’ and
yet another read ‘V-SDF Battleship:
Congress
.’

It was the largest fleet assembled in Virgin’s recent history—at
least it was the largest fleet she had ever heard of according to
official
records…which begged the shocking question of whether or not the citizens of
Virgin had even been made aware of the fleet’s formation and deployment.

“How long?”
Jericho asked evenly.

“Three hours,” Hadden replied calmly, “which means that if
you two are to escape it must be now. Age has, some might say, ‘unfortunately’
not dulled my wits. Fortified though my home may be, we have no chance of
defeating the combined strength of this fleet. I have already ordered a general
evacuation of the facility, and several of my warships have set out to buy the
evacuees a few more minutes before the fleet enters firing range. With any
luck, the bulk of Hadden Enterprise’s sentient resources will survive this act
of barbarism…but I have little doubt what this attack signals.”

“A complete dissolution of Hadden Enterprises,” Jericho
concluded tightly. “He’s declaring war on the autonomous rights afforded
corporations—
and
their employees—under the Chimera Sector Bill of
Rights.”

“Indeed. And the precedent will not be limited solely to
corporate entities, since by deploying this fleet he has declared martial law
over any in-system region, or entity, which he deems to be in rebellion. It
appears there was significant resistance in the System’s Senate due to this
very issue,” Hadden said casually, “but we all knew this day would arrive
sooner or later. Our contingency plans have been in place for decades; he will
not achieve the victory he desperately seeks…at least,” his almost purple lips
twisted defiantly, “not this easily.”

The platform rose through the well-lit portal above their
heads and slowed until finally stopping when it was flush with the floor around
them. They were inside a tiny chamber which had a roughly egg-shaped vessel set
in its side on what looked to be the tracks of a giant rail gun.

“You do not have much time,” Hadden urged as he approached
the egg-shaped vessel, which was barely large enough for two people to squeeze
into. “Your window will close in three minutes; you must enter the vessel and
begin the launch sequence as quickly as you are able.” Hadden’s chair turned
deliberately toward Masozi and he said, “In another life you and I may have
been something much more than friends, Investigator. But that is not to be, so
instead I will say that I would consider it a personal favor of great value if
you would speak well of me whenever you are able.”

Masozi was taken aback by his odd request, but nodded slowly.
“You’ve given me no reason to do otherwise, Mr. Hadden.”

“Good,” Hadden said as Jericho entered the tiny craft and
strapped himself into one of the seats. The Director then lowered is artificial
voice and said, “And please…
look
after yourself in all
things. I would hate for the universe to be unduly deprived of one of its
brightest stars simply due to a marked absence of imagination on the part of a
particularly dim one, if you take my meaning.”

Masozi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Hadden
was all but telling her not to trust Jericho, but why would he do that? She
nodded slowly, uncertain how to reply, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do,” he said seriously before his chair turned
and made its way to a nearby tube. “I must prepare what will be my final,
riotous act of defiance against the inexorable forces of entropy,” he said. “I
do so hope you enjoy the view when I give my final gift back to the universe I
have so dearly loved.”

Having no idea what he meant, Masozi quickly entered the
tiny craft and closed the hatch before strapping herself into the seat beside
Jericho. “Are you ready?” he asked sharply after making eye contact with her.

She held his gaze longer than she likely should have before
nodding, “Yes.”

He appeared to pay her hesitation no mind because he plunged
his finger down on a flashing green icon, causing a ten second countdown timer
to appear on the main screen which was just a few feet from their faces.

Masozi felt a literal thrum of energy when the maglev
brackets engaged with the tiny pod’s hull. “What exactly is this thing?” she
asked warily.

“It’s a probe used to explore Chambliss, but more than that
I couldn’t say,” Jericho shrugged as he gestured to a nearby rack. “There’s the manual if you’re into some light
reading.”

Masozi saw the indicated book but decided against reading
it—at least until the launch sequence had completed.

When the countdown reached zero, her head was snapped back
into the headrest and Masozi felt as though the acceleration’s g-forces were
going to suffocate her. The screen which had displayed the countdown now showed
what appeared to be a frontal view from the ‘top’ of their egg-shaped craft as
it rocketed up through a gently curved tunnel with multiple magnetic lines
running parallel to each other.

She knew that maglevs and rail guns had been used for
launching people into space before the advent of modern propulsion systems—or
even before the discovery of materials which made space elevators feasible—but
she had never expected she would be riding in a vehicle propelled by one. And
as the incredible weight of their acceleration threatened to cave her chest in,
she understood why they had fallen out of favor despite their supposedly
economical nature.

The trip through the drive tube seemed to last forever, but
then the acceleration abruptly ceased and she felt completely weightless. The
view screen showed the giant, turbulent orb of Chambliss surrounded by its
majestic rings, and they were on what looked to be a parabolic course set for
near its horizon.