Samuel stared at the information on his tablet, careful to angle the screen so it wasn’t visible to Jorgen or Einar—not easy in the cramped interior of a patrol craft. The Kvinesdal Elite soldiers would probably pack up and leave if they knew Zen had quashed his authority. If he could just finish this next part of his vision without them dumping him, he could bargain with them on credit and the promise of their share in an enduring supply of gold. Some deadweight had to be cut, and without hired muscle kept in check with the proper monetary carrot, streamlining his operation would be difficult. The last shipment of GeneDancer nanobots had never arrived, and Connor might think he was keeping Greigsen in line by withholding them, but what the idiot didn’t consider, was that Samuel was within years—maybe less—of performing mitochondrial transfers from his newly designed metahuman, and could manage without GeneDancer. He would not reinitiate contact.
“How long to our destination?” he asked.
“Three standard hours,” answered Einar in his heavy accent.
“I think I would like to change our plans, if that’s all right.”
Einar shrugged. “It’s up to you. So long as we have the equipment, we can change anything.”
“I would like to proceed as a stealth operation. Can we dispense with calling your other ships to converge at the meeting point?” Samuel wanted as few people involved as possible. He was fairly certain Zen had already started telling other Kvinesdal branches there had been a change in command and thus preferred they did not communicate with Jorgen and Einar. He inwardly winced as Jorgen sat up and turned towards him. He maintained a pleasant and neutral expression, and reminded himself not to look intimidated as the big man gave him a hard stare.
“How about we proceed as a stealth operation and rendezvous with our other ships as planned? You’re not trying to compromise the safety of my troops, are you Dr. Greigsen?”
Damn. “That’s fine,” Samuel said evenly. “So long as they can remain undetected as we approach the destination.” Einar raised his eyebrows, but nodded.
“That’s wise, considering you’ve chosen to go into pirate territory.” He frowned, catching sight of a blip moving across one of the ship’s monitors. “Jorgen, is that the WildStar?”
The other Kvinesdal soldier peered at the monitor and grinned. “Sure is. I’ve wanted to shoot Lucky Morgan for a while now.” He began powering up weapons.
“Please don’t do that,” said Samuel. “I’ve hired him to pilot the shuttle into Callista’s Den.”
“Are you serious?” asked Einar. “One of us could do that. You’d be safer with us than that blautfisk. He’s got a target on his back.”
“I meant no offence. I thought you might not want to go into pirate territory.”
“But you want to let Morgan take our shuttle there?”
“Well, I’ll be with him.”
“As if you can handle him if he decides to double cross you.”
“Oh, he won’t. I’ve only paid him half, with the balance to come on my safe return.”
“And will you pay for our shuttle if he steals or damages it?”
“Yes, of course. You really have nothing to worry about, Einar.”
The large man huffed and folded his arms. “Very well.”
Jorgen typed something into a communications panel.
“What are you doing?” asked Samuel.
“Your Director Ishihiru has requested an update on our progress towards the colony.”
Samuel’s innards tightened. “And you’ve sent it to him?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have any reply for us?”
“No. He told us to proceed as planned.”
“Oh. Good.” Samuel wondered why Zen would not have immediately ordered his arrest. His taking over the funds surely indicated he had some idea of what Samuel’s project entailed. Or was there a possibility that he didn’t know? Perhaps he did know and wanted to take credit for the deal with the Yoshinogari and collect the final payment. That would be acceptable, so long as Samuel had—
Or did Zen want the baby?
Was it too late to turn back? Find another place that Zen had no information about? No. He had invested too much in his current plan to change things now. Also, Einar and Jorgen didn’t know exactly where he was going, or what he was taking there, so they couldn’t transmit that information to Zen, although having his location pinpointed this close was risky. But then, even if they did reroute, Jorgen would re-update Zen. He could retry this plan using the Yoshinogari instead of the Kvinesdal men, however that path was more risky—they were too invested in the results of his work. His hands were shaking as he texted his instructions to Lucky Morgan to dock with the Visund. He then went to the back of the ship where the small container from the Viksfjord Outpost sat. Placing his palm on top of it, he could feel the warmed liquid inside vibrate with the ship’s movements.
“It won’t be long now, Renée,” he whispered to it. “You’re almost there.”
He sat quietly next to the container with his eyes closed, resting as much as he could before his next move. He heard the proximity chimes, then Jorgen swearing loudly as Lucky came on board. His crackling electrical weapon had apparently gone off ‘accidentally’, frying some of the ship’s monitors.
Einar stomped over to where he was. “Dr. Greigsen, we will rendezvous with the other Kvinesdal ships about an hour after you leave on the shuttle. We will remain dark to the colony behind the Esthemos asteroid barrier. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until they get here first?”
“Yes, I’m sure, thank you.” He shuffled past Einar and for the first time looked into the scruffy face of the pirate he’d hired. He was short, had an annoying lump of tobacco stuffed in his lower lip and didn’t smell like he knew how to bathe. Samuel hoped he was greedy enough to be cooperative until the promised other half of his money was secure. “I trust you can manage the Kvinesdal shuttle without having flown it before?” he asked Lucky.
The pirate shrugged. “I can fly anything. I steal shuttles I’ve never flown before for a living,” he snickered. Samuel smiled tightly, while Einar and Jorgen did not look amused. “I’ll need coordinates.”
“Yes, we’ll get to that.” Samuel donned light body armour, then returned to the small transport box containing his precious cargo and began to unlatch it from the floor.
“What’s in there?” asked Lucky.
“It contains some organic material I need to conduct tests on.”
“Some what?”
“Fecal soil samples that need to be tested in a dry climate,” Samuel lied.
“Why you scientists always digging in shit?” Lucky asked, but at least his interest in the box waned.
Samuel slapped his thighs. “Let’s go, shall we?” He transferred the box to a trolley, trundled it to the shuttle and loaded it, while Lucky made a big show of sorting through Jorgen’s extra supplies for things he needed. While the pirate was occupied, Samuel discretely removed a small square box from the Kvinesdal equipment racks which he clipped to his belt. Einar watched him, but merely pressed his lips shut. Samuel did not make eye contact.
Riding in the tiny shuttle through the asteroid field and into atmosphere of the artificially enhanced rock Samuel had chosen as his destination, was probably the worst entry he had ever suffered. He vomited into a vacuum bag several times before they levelled off below radar level and skimmed over the ground towards the scattered remnants of civilization. The jerky movements close to the surface were not much better.
“Must we fly so roughly?” he gasped.
“Yes, if we wish to be low and not hit any mountains.”
“Did they see us on entry?”
“Yeah, we got a few tails coming in, but I’m shaking them. I’m really good at this.”
Samuel repressed his bile at both the flying and the comment. “Good. Good.”
Lucky’s eyes flicked towards the box. “So is shit a metaphor for money?” he asked. Samuel gripped his armrests more tightly and gasped as the shuttle bumped, then dropped sharply into a tunnel leading underground. The shuttle interior went dark, and they slowed. Lights and other signs of life began appearing in the tunnel walls, gradually increasing in number. They passed a blue light barrier and were queued for entry into Callista’s Den.
“We’re good here,” said Lucky. “The Castillis make sure everyone behaves once past the light. Anyone who messes with business gets their hands chopped, so make sure you don’t screw anyone while you’re here.”
“Why are we sitting in the dark?” asked Samuel.
“Old habits. I don’t like anyone peering through the viewports seeing me or my cargo. So can I see what’s in the box?”
“No,” said Samuel tersely. “We have our agreement, and it doesn’t include an inspection of my research materials. Or are you trying to renegotiate in Castillis territory?”
“Don’t have to get snippy,” Lucky muttered. “Why you got temperature readings all over the outside of it?”
“My samples must be in a carefully controlled environment, or the bacterial content will die.”
“Oh. So there really is shit in there. Not worth much, then?”
“Only if you’re the editor of a scientific journal specializing in reclaiming lands used for sewage disposal.”
Lucky was quiet for a few moments. “So, if it’s not worth much, why we headed for the Bank?”
Samuel declined to answer. He pulled on his visor and turned on the nightvision, wanting to keep an eye on his pilot. Lucky was busy looting the shuttle compartments. Samuel sighed and rested his hand on top of the box.
“If it’s fertilizer maybe. You got some super fertilizer in there?”
“Why are you asking?” Samuel finally asked.
“Because I want to know how much risk I’m taking.”
“You, none at all. Me, moderate.”
“What sort of risk?”
“If you must know, the Yoshinogari are very interested in my research, and want to steal it. If they cannot get hold of it, the knowledge in my head will serve them just as well. So you can rest assured that you have nothing to fear from them, unless you steal my box.”
“Why do the Yoshis want it?”
“I suppose they have a lot of shit to recycle.”
“Maybe I could sell it to them.”
“Since they’re essentially broke, they would just kill you and take it.”
“Oh.”
Lucky shut up then, only speaking again when it came time to fast talk their way into the Den, and then to get permission to travel to the bank unescorted, which was more than Samuel had hoped for. Still, after they had docked and he pulled the trolley and box out onto the corrugated metal of the noisy piers, he felt many eyes on him. He was fairly certain one of the dock ‘officials’ was following them. Lucky had his little taser out, and was flipping it around in his hand.
“Let’s not do anything foolish with that,” Samuel said lightly.
“I’m just letting ’em see it,” Lucky replied. “Some of them are getting a bit close.”
As they moved towards the city centre, the roadways opened up to accommodate hundreds of merchants and traders, and the press of the crowd increased. The echoing noise, excessive colour, jostling people and overwhelming heat was giving Samuel a headache. The locks he had set on the storage compartments of his body armour fizzed as they administered small shocks to the touch of light fingers. Losing his documents in this place would have been problematic.
“Geez, you stand out like a huge mark dressed up with all that,” grumbled Lucky.
“So let’s hurry and finish up, then.” It took almost thirty minutes to reach the oversized faux stone stairway leading up to Goldern’s Bank. As they ascended, the bustle fell away, and the heads of the armed soldiers at the top swiveled towards them. They blocked Lucky’s way with their carbines, but let Samuel pass.
“What the hell?” protested Lucky. “Hey, I hain’t been paid yet,” he yelled at Samuel. “You’d better come back and pay me.”
“I will if you’re still here when I get back,” he called over his shoulder. He could still hear his personal idiot yelling at him through the glas and brass doors that swiveled open for him, but happily ignored anything further Lucky had to say.
The air-conditioned interior of the bank was a welcome relief, as was the emptiness of the front foyer, which was least fifteen metres deep, with giant spiraling stairways on either side of a front desk that stretched across the entire width of the foyer. The men and women here dressed in standard business suits as they clacked across the marble floor and appeared to be exactly the same as any other bankers Samuel had ever encountered. One of them materialized beside him, his eyes sweeping over Samuel’s box.
“Dr. Greigsen, I presume? So glad you were able to call ahead. My name is Patrick.”
“Hello,” said Samuel, holding out his hand. The polite man shook it.
“Will you require any assistance with your case?”
“No, that’s quite all right.”
“Of course. Please come this way.” Patrick gestured towards the back. “We’ve set up a safe deposit box for you, with the specifications you requested.”
“You were able to get the nutrient supply as well?”
“Yes. Would you like to set it up yourself, or shall one of our technicians assist you?”
“I’ll set it up, thanks.” They stepped into a private vault with a long metal table in the middle. Patrick pressed his thumb against the corner of one of the lockboxes, and invited Samuel to do the same on the other side. The box unlatched and popped open slightly with a hiss.
“I’ll leave you to it. Please take your time, and I will return to assist you when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.” The door slid shut behind Patrick, leaving Samuel in the monastic silence of the room. He leaned against the table for a few moments, unwilling to leave his prize. “This is good bye, Renée,” he said quietly. “But I shall return for you, never fear. I regret leaving you in such a small place, but it’s necessary for the time being.” He sighed heavily. “If only those miscreants would refrain from interfering with my work—but never mind. You and I will restructure the Universe.”
He carefully set up the nutrient supply to the box and triple checked that everything was to his satisfaction. Pushing the compartment closed and making sure it locked, he composed himself and left the vault.
Lucky was pacing angrily in front of the outer stairway, staying clear of the guards. “What took you so freakin’ long?” he demanded. Samuel declined to answer.
The flight back through the asteroid field was more tumultuous than it was going in, probably in retaliation for whatever slights Lucky imagined he’d suffered. Samuel shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, hoping there was nothing left in his stomach to be vomited. The communications panel was issuing incessant chimes, which he ignored.
“Gonna answer that? Hey? They keep calling. I’m not answering, because nobody’s supposed to know I’m here. You gonna answer?”
“Obviously not,” said Samuel.
As soon as they cleared the asteroid field, a warning message appeared on the console, declaring that the shuttle’s OS was being compromised by an external code that overrode the answering mechanism and forced the call through.
“Aw, shit,” said Lucky. “It’s the Yoshis. Your Kvinesdal buddies probably routed the call here. Do they not like you or something?” Samuel peeled an eye open and saw the comm panel fill with an angry image of Kurosawa.
“Dr. Greigsen, you will answer me, or prepare to be boarded. I know you have essentially finished your work despite your attempts to hide it from the Ninjiinan. You have taken an inordinate amount of money from us. Now you must deliver the Organic as agreed. Dr. Greigsen! Answer! The Organic belongs to us—”
“Like hell she does,” Samuel muttered as he smashed the monitor and ripped out the receiver, breaking the physical connection of the shuttle to the internet. “You merely had the honour of contributing to my project, you miscreant.” He settled back into the seat. “The child is mine,” he spat. “Neither Connor nor Kurosawa can even begin to perceive the scope of my vision. Do they think they are in command here because they handed over money that wasn’t even theirs to start with? I am sick of their petty—”
“Are you freaking kidding me? They’s gonna board! What the hell did you get me into? They gonna kill me!” screamed Lucky.
“No,” said Samuel. “They aren’t going to kill you. I am.” He pressed a button on the small box he’d taken from Einar’s equipment rack, which released an electrical pulse that stopped Lucky’s heart instantly. The pirate slumped in his seat. Samuel stood up on shaky legs and moved to the pilot’s seat, where he unbuckled Lucky’s corpse and shoved it aside. Sitting there himself, he activated the autopilot and set it to return to the Visund.
Controlling his breathing and heartrate as best he could, he still found himself drenched with sweat as the shuttle finally docked with the Kvinesdal ship. Einar was leaning against the frame of the airlock when it opened, and made a show of looking around Samuel questioningly when he saw there was no one else following. Samuel brushed past him roughly.
“Jettison the shuttle and detonate it. Make sure the transmitters are not damaged when you do. Untether the WildStar and give it a nudge in the opposite direction.”
“Now you want to blow up my shuttle. You are going to pay for it, yes?”
“Yes, yes! Just do it, please!”
“Why?”
“The Yoshinogari have infected it with their command codes. In a few moments they’ll have complete control of it.”
“Very well. I suppose it’s cheaper than a confrontation with the Yoshis.”
“Well then, you’d best get us out of here before they also detect the presence of this ship.”
“They will know the shuttle didn’t come out here by itself.”
“Please. Let’s go.”
Jorgen snorted and flicked on the mic of his comm panel. “Greigsen is on board. Setting coordinates to rendezvous point. ETA: 5 hours.” He punched in a few commands and the ship’s engines powered up.
“What did you do?” Samuel demanded.
“Director Ishihiru has countermanded your previous instructions and wants us to bring you to him.”
Samuel felt the blood drain from his face. His hand strayed to the box on his belt. Einar’s hand closed over his, crushing his fingers. Samuel couldn’t stop himself from letting out a high-pitched wail.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Einar. He grabbed Samuel by the shoulder and shoved him backwards into an equipment cage. After tearing the box from his belt, Einar slammed the door shut and locked it. Speaking his native tongue, he said something to Jorgen, who laughed and turned back to the control panel.
Samuel slumped to the floor, cradling his injured hand. At least they hadn’t asked about Renée, or made any indication they were going back for her. He wracked his brains for his next best move. He could possibly convince Zen he was still working for ZerronTech’s best interests, then perhaps string the Yoshinogari along a bit farther…if he could get more funds, then independently hire a different source of muscle…it would all depend on how his conversation with Zen went. Best case scenario: each opposing faction would wipe out the other…but then, how to return to Callista’s Den?
Jorgen began yelling something in his intolerable language, causing Einar to grab several weapons from the rack and rush to the front of the vessel.
“What’s going on?” Samuel shouted at them, but was ignored. Jorgen was madly punching through channels on his comm panel, trying to contact the other Kvinesdal ships nearby, perhaps calling them to arms.
Einar slammed his fist against the cage, making Samuel jump. “How large is the Yoshinogari fleet?” he demanded.
“There is one large mothership, which we’d never see out here, and fifteen smaller vessels,” said Samuel. “They wouldn’t send more than half of those away from the mothership, and they’re little more than skimmers armed with peashooters.”
“Right now we are detecting twenty incoming gunships and a goddamned battleship!” Einar shouted at him. “Forget you and your lies.”
“What? Are you sure they are Yoshinogari? They told me they could only provide me with troops, not ships. That’s why I hired you!”
“Well obviously your information is wrong!”
“How many Kvinesdal ships are there?”
“Only eight others, because you told me the Yoshinogari were no threat.”
“We have to leave! Now! Fast! They’ll go after the shuttle debris, I promise you. If we catch up to your other ships now, it’s unlikely they’ll attack.”
Jorgen said something in his funny language with too many vowels. Einar seemed to calm down. “They are converging on the debris. We’ll back away, but if they do come after us, I’ll be shoving you out the airlock and leaving you there to distract them,” he said.
“We still have a contract!” Samuel shouted at them.
“Our contract is with Ishihiru, and right now he has no idea that you weren’t on that shuttle when it exploded.”
Samuel slumped back against the cage. “Let’s just go, then.”
“Very well.” Jorgen hit the thrusters and left the scene behind.