Bring Me the Dead, page 8
The officer in charge thrust a sheet of paper at him, and he instinctively put his hands behind his back. His family had not become one of the richest in America by unquestioningly accepting bits of paper handed to them. The official was slightly nonplussed for a moment but recovered.
“Mr. Johnson?”
“Maybe.”
“Failure to cooperate with customs officials can lead to fines and bans from the sector.”
“Okay, yes, I’m Beau Johnson. What is this? I paid for expedited processing.”
“Your fee will be returned,” she said. “Please read the warrant.”
Warrant? That couldn’t be good. He read the piece of paper she was still holding out. He groaned at the words thorough search and then spluttered at the word firearms.
“Guns? You think I have guns aboard? I’m an archeologist!”
“Stand aside, Mr. Johnson. The sooner my team get to work, the sooner it will be over. One way or another.” Beau had no choice—he stood aside and let the customs officials into the ship. They began to spread out at once. Beau hurried back to the mess.
“What’s going on?” Marz asked. “I heard a bunch of people come aboard. We don’t have enough cake for all of them.”
“Screw cake. We’re about to undergo a full inspection. They’re looking for guns.”
“Park!” she snapped.
“What?”
“This is Park’s doing for sure. He’s sicced them on us.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.”
Beau found he believed it too. He’d never thought of Ki-tae as vindictive, but after he’d caught Beau interfering with his terminal, he must have wanted revenge.
“Okay, but never mind that. You’d better get that damn cracker out of sight. Put the decryption on pause before it attracts attention.”
“Will do.” She flashed a dirty look the way of the officer in charge as she appeared in the mess, then strode out.
“Who’s your tip from?” Beau demanded.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” she said.
“Okay, do your damn worst. You won’t find anything.”
“That remains to be seen.”
* * * *
Ki-tae programmed in the course for Thut and leaned back in his seat, feeling what could only be described as smug. The friendly Officer Poole aboard the transport ship had sent him a short message advising that Beau’s ship had been detained by customs for a thorough inspection. On a ship that size, such an inspection might take ten or twelve hours. He checked the information on his terminal again, reading all about the leads King had provided to Beau and his team. Beau might think he could run rings around Ki-tae, but Ki-tae had an ace in the hole Beau did not know about. He assumed Ki-tae would be chasing him. But instead Ki-tae would be several steps ahead.
He had to wonder about his personal motives, though. Did he intend to find the clues to the location of the Enivakara ahead of Beau? That wasn’t his assignment. But the Enivakara had always been a particular interest of his at the Institute. He’d written his master’s thesis on the legends about it. He’d almost come to believe…No, he did believe. Deep inside, he believed in it. Whether it was exactly what the legends claimed was another matter. Interpreting ancient alien languages not spoken in over a million years could be a challenge—to put it mildly. There had been an awful lot of revision needed when it was discovered that the references to what was thought to be a pet Queen Skeeshet of Hybar was especially fond of, actually referred to a spouse—to use the nearest equivalent human concept.
He’d go over everything he had from King’s information and all the other information about Thut that he had from his research and reference material. It was a minor planet of the empire, right on the edge and largely unexplored by archeologists. No tourists went there. But according to King’s information, there was something buried there that would give a clue to the last resting place of the Enivakara.
He’d do that after he slept, he decided. The trip would take about forty hours. He had plenty of time to read. And though the time of day meant little out here, his body was demanding sleep. He moved away from the console, rolling his shoulders. He made some tea and spent a half hour meditating after he drank it. The meditation wasn’t too successful. His mind kept tripping back over to the scene in the locker room, and anger surged. He let it go each time, refusing to let it master him. But he didn’t succeed in emptying his mind as he should.
Checking one last time to make sure the autopilot was still locked on course and all appropriate alarms were set to warn him of approaching trouble, he undressed for bed, looking out of the forward view screen as he did. There was a strange liberation in this, he thought as he removed the last of his clothes. He was a man, naked and vulnerable, among the stars. A man whose physical form was barely distinguishable from that of the humans of thousands of years ago. Yet he stood in a spacecraft, trillions of miles from home, and as nonchalant about it as he’d once been about taking a train from Seoul to Incheon to go to the beach.
After a moment of standing naked in the starlight, he felt chilled and reached for his pajamas. In a few minutes he was in bed. The door from the sleeping quarters could be made opaque for privacy if there was more than one person aboard, and to cut out light that might interfere with sleep. Ki-tae opted to keep it transparent, wanting to see the blinking lights of the control consoles. They reassured him that all was well. He felt sure he’d wake up if the lights all started blinking emergency red, even if no alarms sounded.
As he tried to sleep, his mind circled around again to Beau. He tried to step outside himself, analyze the feelings. Betrayal. Why should he feel that? He didn’t trust Beau. The man was the enemy. He’d known that. Just because Beau tried to work his charm on Ki-tae didn’t mean he could be trusted. His only aim had been to gain access to Ki-tae’s terminal. All his flirting, teasing, and general verbal sparring had been for that. And somehow Ki-tae had been fooled. He should have stayed more cynical, as he’d been for an instant when Beau dropped with the leg cramp. For a moment he’d thought Beau was faking. He should have followed that instinct. Beau hadn’t limped when he left that changing room.
Thank God Ki-tae had interrupted him before he could access the terminal. If he’d read the information on there, understood what information Ki-tae had and how he’d got it, it would give him a hell of a shock. Ki-tae wouldn’t want to be crammed into a small ship with him if ever learned about that.
He slept at last after doing a sleep meditation—to keep his mind off Beau. He didn’t have time to check how much sleep he’d had when he woke to screaming alarms and all the lights blinking emergency red.
* * * *
Beau sat in the mess again, drinking coffee, again, and feeling murderous. Fifteen hours! Fifteen hours of those bastards poking their noses into every corner of the ship. Pulling up floor plates and removing wall panels. And asking about the so-called hiding places they found under and behind those plates and panels. Beau answered that none of these were hidden spaces; he was only using space efficiently. Yes, they weren’t always obvious at a glance because he had the right to protect his goods—usually small and high value—from the pirates who prowled the sector.
Finally, empty-handed and somewhat disgruntled, they’d left. Then the ship had to wait for a new departure slot. So it was close to twenty hours after arrival when they finally left the transport ship and set course for Thut, Doug laying on the power like a demon, getting every last ounce of performance from the engine.
Beau dearly wanted to catch up with Ki-tae and kick his ass. No bowing this time. He was sure Ki-tae was ahead of them, on his way to Thut. If he intended to follow them, then there’d have been no reason to delay them, bar pure vindictiveness. So he must know where they were going somehow. Was there a snitch in King’s organization passing information to the Institute?
Marz came in, looking beaten down, deep purple shadows under her eyes, darker than the violet skin.
“Coffee?” Beau said.
“No, I want to get some sleep. I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid.”
“What?” Beau asked dully, too tired to care much. He’d been up about twenty-nine hours, and he was on watch right now. He was only still moving thanks to coffee and some mild stim pills.
“I have to start the decryption over,” Marz said.
“What?” That did wake him up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d put it on pause and backed up the progress. But when I went to restart it, all the progress had been lost. I must have made an error somewhere, rushing too much. I’m sorry.”
Beau put a hand over his eyes. That data was going to be the death of him. He felt sure it would let them know how much Ki-tae knew about their plans, but they were back to square one of getting it. He bit back all desire to yell at Marz. Mistakes happened.
“It’s definitely gone?”
“I searched and searched, but yes, it’s gone.”
“Have you restarted?”
“Yes. The encrypted data is still on the cracker. I’ve copied it into the computer core again, and the decryption sequence is running.”
“Okay, good. Don’t feel bad. Shit happens.”
“Yeah.” She still looked glum.
“Like that time King Marbadon was killed by falling into a sinkhole on the way to the execution of his last rivals.”
She smiled slightly. That particular bit of Imperial history was one she’d told him about, having read it in an ancient text. He liked the part about how the people celebrated for days, and one of the rivals saved from execution took the throne and gave them decades of peace and prosperity.
“Nobody thinks that sinkhole was random,” she pointed out.
Beau shrugged. “How come they didn’t find the cracker, anyway? I saw them rummaging in your box of tricks in the storeroom.”
“It wasn’t there. There’s one place they didn’t search. Or rather five places. Us.” She reached down the front of her shirt and produced the cracker from her bra. She tossed it to him, and he caught it in one hand. It felt warm and slightly oily. Smelled good, though.
“I wish I could do that trick,” he said. “The only place I could hide it would be—”
“Don’t say it. I don’t want to picture my cracker in your…emergency pocket.”
“Can it be set to vibrate?”
She snatched it back out of his hand. “Pervert. Right, I wish I could stay up with you, but I’m on the next watch, so…”
“So get out of here and sleep.” She’d been up as long as he had and would be standing watch in six hours. It was an easy enough watch when they were on autopilot heading for a preprogrammed destination, but he preferred that the watch stander stay awake. He headed to the coffee pot to get himself another cup.
“Good night, Beau,” Marz said. “Don’t worry. When we catch that bastard, he’ll pay.”
Chapter 10
The intercom bleeping woke Beau from some well-earned rest. He thought it well earned, anyway.
“What?” he answered thickly.
“So sorry to disturb you,” Professor Reynolds said. “We’re arriving in orbit of Thut.”
That woke Beau up more. “Great.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then scrubbing a hand through his hair. He swung his legs out of bed. “Any sign of Park?”
“Yes. A distress call.”
“What?” Beau froze.
“A distress call,” Reynolds said, speaking more loudly and clearly as if she thought he hadn’t heard her. Beau pulled himself together.
“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. Call Marz, please.”
Beau arrived on the bridge five minutes later. Doug and Devlin were already there. A minute after Beau arrived on the run, dressed hastily in sweatpants, an unzipped hoodie, and no shoes, Marz arrived in similar getup, though her top was zipped up and the colors were brighter. Beau sometimes wanted to ask her if she’d got dressed in the dark, but then remembered that this gag wouldn’t work on her.
“It’s definitely an Institute distress call,” Reynolds said as Beau walked in, Marz shuffling in behind him, yawning. “It even includes the part about financial rewards for helping an agent in distress.”
“I do like the sound of getting a reward for helping Park,” Marz said. She chuckled. “That’d stick right in his craw. I hope they dock it from his pay. Serve him right for that customs garbage he pulled.”
“Hush up,” Beau said. “I’m trying to listen.” But the distress signal’s accompanying message wasn’t in Ki-tae’s voice, but a flat mechanical computer voice. “Have you got a fix on its source?”
“Yes,” Reynolds said.
“Guess we’d better go get him.” He looked around at faces variously shocked and dubious.
“You do remember this is Park, right?” Marz said. “Your number-one fucking nemesis?”
“What do you expect us to do? Leave him there?”
“I’m thinking that’s a pretty good idea.”
“Marz, for fuck’s sake, we can’t do that.”
“Somebody else will pick up the signal,” Doug said. “Or we can send a message about it. Get someone to come and get him.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Devlin agreed. “I mean, come on, Beau, you want him on the ship?”
“That would be a quite tricky situation,” Reynolds agreed.
“I can’t believe any of you are saying this,” Beau said. “It’s a distress call. We picked it up, we have to respond. That’s one rule even I’ll abide by. He could be hurt, he could be running out of air and heat. I don’t care if he’s an angel, we have to respond.”
“Agent,” Marz said.
“What?”
“You said angel, not agent.” She gave him a searching look. Beau rubbed his eyes. He really did need more sleep, and he wasn’t going to get it.
“I’m tired,” he said. “Okay, I don’t usually like to pull rank on anyone, but I’m in charge, and I say we have to go rescue him.” They didn’t like it—especially Marz. He understood. She owned half the ship, they were equal partners in the business, but they’d agreed he would be captain of the ship because someone had to be. “Anyway, we want to keep tabs on him, don’t we? Think how closely we can watch him on the ship.” He felt he was grasping at straws. “Hey, as my great-grandmother taught me, Keep your enemies close at all times. It makes things much easier when it’s time to destroy them.”
That stopped them all in their tracks. They stared at him.
“What? She was President of the United States for eight years. Do all y’all think she’d pass me down an apple-pie recipe?” That broke the tension enough that he got a couple of smiles. “Okay, Dev, go set up your infirmary in case he’s injured. Dr. Reynolds, could you set a course for the origin of the signal, please. Doug, prep the shuttle. Marz, we’ll likely have to go outside. Let’s get into the pressure suits.”
He strode off, catching in a reflection the worried look that passed between Dev and Doug. Marz, on the other hand, was less worried and more furious. Although he walked fast, she easily kept up with him. Damn her height. He should make a new friend. One of those pocket-sized girls. Like Dana Flynn? his treacherous brain asked. Who stood barely five feet in her socks and who kicked his ass at jujitsu at Yale? Maybe not.
“You got a thing for Park?” Marz asked, when they were out of earshot of the others.
“What? Why would you even ask that?”
“I dunno, maybe because of the way you called him an angel.”
“That was a slip of the tongue.”
“Anywhere else you’d like to slip your tongue?”
“Not there.”
They reached the ladder to the lower deck. It was too narrow for two people to go down side by side, so she took the steps first, went down backward, looking back up at him.
“Did that seduction ever come off?” she asked.
“I’d have told you if it did.”
“Would you? How about if it came off and then felt like something more?”
“Why would I have a thing for Park? He’s the most annoying person I know.” She arrived at the bottom of the ladder and looked at him closely, like she was making a note of his ducking her question. He glared at her. “Present company excepted.”
She grinned. “I’ll always be your number one.”
They donned the suits, checking each other’s seals and latches, before heading for the shuttle dock, carrying their helmets. The Istrouma had a shuttle docked in an alcove on the bottom of the ship, reached by climbing down through an airlock in the floor. They found Doug there, climbing back out.
“Warmed up and ready to go,” Doug said. “All systems normal.”
Beau let Marz climb down first and then, with a last salute to Doug, followed her down and closed the hatch behind him. Marz took the pilot seat, started making a pre-flight check—which included checking that the cat hadn’t sneaked aboard. Beau put his helmet aside and joined her, taking the copilot seat. He could pilot the shuttle as expertly as she could, and had been expecting to, but maybe she was reasserting a bit of her authority after his rank pulling—which he already felt bad about. So he let her take the lead and brought up only the copilot configuration on his panels. Marz declared the shuttle a cat-free zone and ready to leave.
In a short time the Istrouma was in orbit above the location of Park’s downed Dragonfly, and the shuttle undocked and dropped away fast, clearing the ship quickly, as good practice dictated. Then Marz leveled off and headed for the surface. It took only a few minutes to reach the site.
“Sitting nearly upright,” Beau said when they got visual contact with the Dragonfly. “Maybe he had some control over the landing.”
“Maybe. But it looks like it was damn hard landing all the same. Okay, putting us down fifty meters away. Strap in.”
Beau did, and as she handled the landing, he started scanning the area for anything hostile. Nada. The whole place was inert. The ruins of ancient buildings, eroded away to stubby shapes more like natural rock formations, rose up around them as the shuttle kissed the surface. They wobbled, and Marz clicked her tongue.
