Killbox

Page 19

“We just want to talk to her, that’s all.”
Dina agrees, “If you could arrange a meet, it would be best. If you don’t trust us, you can send your Peacemaker units along. We aren’t going to hurt her.”
“I am incapable of it,” Loras adds.
That makes Mac take a closer look. “Mary’s grace, you’re La’hengrin. Good thing I got you out of there when I did. Spacers love to steal your kind.”
The observation pains me, as I’m starting to see the universe from Loras’s point of view. Things are stolen; people are kidnapped. I can’t afford to alienate this man, unfortunately, so I don’t correct him. But I’m still pissed on my friend’s behalf.
“I’ll send a message to Evelyn,” Mac finally allows. “That’s all I promise.”
“Don’t you want credits up front?” I ask. Most stations have a fixer—the man to see to get things done, and market gossip led us here to Rafferty’s for that kind of business—but such men don’t usually work for free.
“We’ll talk about what I want later,” he answers. “In the meantime, I suggest you three return to your ship and try to stay out of trouble.”
I raise a brow. “Is Perlas dangerous these days?”
He shrugs. “No more than anywhere else in these uncertain times. But I will say, they’ve been demonstrating more. More fights to break up.”
“Noted,” Dina says.
I incline my head, pushing to my feet. “We’ll head back to the Dauntless, then. Here’s my personal comm code, whenever you have word for us.” I beam the info to his handheld. “Is there a back exit? I’d rather not go out there and get them worked up again.”
“This way.”
In short order, we find ourselves on the other side of the promenade. Now all we can do is wait, and hope Hon stays out of trouble better than me.
.CLASSIFIED-TRANSMISSION.
. GOOD WORK.
.FROM-SUNI_TARN.
.TO-EDUN_LEVITER.
. ENCRYPT-DESTR UCT-ENABLED.
I collect we shall eschew salutations henceforth.
To business, then. First, let me commend you on that research. It was truly invaluable.
Even now, we have begun to manufacture the toxin. I call it Morfex. The way it works is truly ingenious. Our scientists have improved the delivery system. It’s been upgraded into gaseous form, and the Morgut will theoretically absorb it through the membranes around their eyes. It eliminates the need for the poison to be ingested or applied to an open wound.
Unfortunately, we don’t have any Morgut upon which to test it, and the weapon is harmless to us. Your first order of business is to procure a live specimen, which I know will be difficult, and deliver it to the following coordinates: attachment follows. The sooner we complete clinical trials, the sooner we can proceed and get our soldiers outfitted. Every advantage matters.
Your second order of business is to locate a Morgut vessel, relatively intact. We know that their weapons are better than ours. Now I want to analyze how and why, so we can compensate for it in the production of our ships and upgrade the ones already on patrol. Get me those results as quick as you can, in addition to the scans you performed on the salvage you retrieved. I want a complete itemized list of everything you find and what it does.
Finally, put some thought into those alternate revenue sources. We cannot assume we will win the war quickly, though I pray to Mary it is so.
Therefore, what kind of tariffs? On what goods? Bear in mind: The people cannot afford much in these difficult times. The last thing I want is for the Conglomerate to become a replacement for Farwan. We must do better, or they will think—rightfully so—that they have merely exchanged one boot on their necks for another.
Your name strikes terror into the hearts of common men, sir, but if they knew of your work on our behalf, I am sure they would sing your praises. I only wish they understood the truth.
.ATTACHMENT-COORDINATES-FOLLOWS.
.END-TRANSMISSION.
. COPY-ATTACHMENT.
.FILES-DOWNLOADED.
. ACTIVATE-WORM: Y/N?
.Y.
.TRANSMISSION-DESTROYED.
CHAPTER 21
Hon returns to the Dauntless several hours later. He’s mussed, wearing a satisfied smile as he strides into the lounge. Loras and Dina have been gone for several hours, leaving me to wait for Hon or a message from Mac.
“How did your recon go?” I ask dryly.
“The cheese vendor can put both feet behind her head.”
I had a feeling it was going to be something like that. “Been a long time since you had any shore leave?”
“That’s a fact.”
Belatedly I remember he’s been lying low. If he’s been holed up with the remnants of his raiders—who were always predominantly male—I can’t blame him for his focus now. But I have no further interest in the cheese vendor, however flexible she may be.
“Did you learn anything else?”
“Certainly.” His expression is mildly affronted as he settled into the chair opposite. “Dasad is in hiding. Since her arrival, there have been three failed kidnappings and two attempts on her life.”
I offer a low whistle. “Sounds like we were right. She knows something valuable. Any intel on those responsible?”
“Syndicate, almost certainly. Hints that a rival crime family from Venice Minor may be in on the action.”
“So whatever she knows, it’s important enough that if they can’t have it, they don’t want anyone else to, either.”
Hon nods. “That’s how I see’t.”
“Thanks, that’s helpful.” I fill him in on what we accomplished.
By the time I finish, he’s grinning. “See what a great team we make, Sirantha?”
I know where he’s going with this, and I hold up a hand to forestall it. “March would kill you.” There’s no point in antagonizing him with the knowledge that I don’t want him without the help of pheromones.
“He’d try.” Luckily, the cheese vendor has left him too sated to make an issue of it. “So now we’re waitin’ for this Rafferty to get in touch?”
“That’s the sum of it.”
“Then I’m going to get some sleep.”
Not a bad idea. I want to be sharp when it’s time to move, so we head to our separate quarters. Before lying down, I bounce a message to March, knowing he won’t see it for ages. In fact, depending on the efficiency of the satellites—and how long it takes here—I might wind up racing the data with another impossible jump. When we have a fleet of ships, we can utilize them to relay messages faster. That’s what Farwan used to do, but I’m not putting this on open channels. Our best hopes lie in encryption and secrecy.
“We found her,” I tell him through the uncaring lens of the terminal recorder. “At least, she’s still here. With any luck, we’ll be homeward bound soon. I miss you.” That’s all I can bear to commit to a message that anyone might see.
After I’ve sent it, I realize I didn’t think to check my reflection or worry about taming my hair. Mary knows what I look like, after the near brawl at Rafferty’s, but it probably doesn’t matter. He’s seen me at my worst and then some.
In my bunk, I muse on the fact that I didn’t give in to the urge to start a fight in the bar. Once, I would’ve swung away without thinking about consequences. It seems I learned self-control on Ithiss-Tor, but I’m asleep before I can decide if that’s good or bad.
It doesn’t seem like I’ve been out very long before Dina’s voice awakens me.
“Get moving, Jax. It’s time.”
I’m on my feet before my eyes are open all the way. “The meet’s on?”
“No, I just missed you. Get your ass to the hatch.”
I laugh softly and grab a cord. On the move, I weave my locks into a respectable twist. I don’t want to make a bad first impression on Evelyn, and crazy hair won’t help. When I arrive, Hon, Loras, and Dina are already waiting.
“What took you so long?” the mechanic gripes.
I grin at her. “Hearing your voice, well . . . You can imagine.”
“Don’t even joke about that.” She feigns an elaborate shudder.
“You two finished?” Hon is all business now, his face stern with purpose.
“We don’t want to be late,” Loras adds.
Because I know they’re right, I don’t argue. I simply nod. “Let’s do this.”
It’s after hours on station. The majority of humans on board are in the middle of their sleep cycle. A few aliens roam around at this hour, but none of them pay much attention to us. I’m not sure if that’s luck or design.
We make for Rafferty’s, but the place is closed up tight, a wide flex-steel gate drawn down to prevent unauthorized entry from the promenade. Since I didn’t take the call and don’t have instructions, I glance at the others for guidance. “What now?”
“Around back,” Hon tells me.
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
Circling, we find a small door with a comm panel beside it.
“For deliveries,” Loras notes.
Without further delay, I tap the screen, alerting them to our presence. It flashes red, telling us to wait. In a few seconds, Rafferty’s face comes up as he peers through at us. “Who’s that?” he asks, gesturing at Hon. “I didn’t agree to let him see Evelyn.”
I see why he’d be alarmed. Even on a good day, Hon exudes a fair amount of scary. “He’s harmless. But if his presence is a deal-breaker, we can send him back to the ship.”
Mac decides swiftly. “Do it. The door doesn’t open until he’s gone. You better hope station security doesn’t come by asking you what you’re about before then. If that happens, the deal is off.”
“Scuttle,” I tell Hon briefly.
His face darkens—and I can tell I’m going to pay for that later—but he complies. Once he’s left the narrow alley behind the bar, the lock disengages. “Come in. Quickly.”
Maybe I’m just susceptible to other people’s paranoia but I find myself gazing over my left shoulder as we slide inside. At this hour, the bar is dark and quiet. We’re in a hallway between the regular area and the VIP lounge.
Mac leads us toward the latter, where we find Evelyn Dasad waiting, flanked by two Peacemaker units. Each has weapons out and on standby. Yeah, Rafferty’s serious about us not taking her anywhere she doesn’t want to go.
Dasad is smaller than I thought she’d be. Her presence and resolve on the vid made her seem larger than life, but in fact, she’s a few centimeters shorter than I am. Her hair has grown a little since she sent the message we intercepted, a shaggy fringe down past her ears. She’s a little thinner, too, and lines of strain are etched into her face, which bears the shadow of many sleepless nights.
This is a woman who lives in fear.
Only her eyes are the same, polished onyx that doesn’t reflect the light. In one fashion, she’s the negative reflection of the heterozygous genotype that heralds the J-gene. I wonder what unique gifts her appearance portends.