In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) (36 page)

“Attacking Earth Navy
for the Matarons will make you the most hunted man in the galaxy, in all of human
history.”

He smiled coldly. “My
dear, Sirius, I’m not attacking anyone. I’m merely enjoying a working vacation
like thousands of other law abiding people, aboard this magnificent ship, which
I own by the way.” His expression hardened. “I also have an army of lawyers on
a hundred planets ready to challenge any spurious accusations you might make
against me.”

“Your lawyers won’t save
you. Picking a fight with Earth Navy is only going to end one way.”

“Earth and its fascist
navy are an enormous obstacle to limitless free market opportunities. The Core
Worlds are tired of Earth’s interference every time some bureaucrat whispers
Access Treaty. You’re right. This is going to end one way, the only way it can,
with an end to Earth’s meddling in our affairs!”

“The Forum won’t deal
with us separately,” I said. “Every species has one voice, one sole
responsibility. It’s a condition of entry.”

“There’s one thing I’ve
learnt over the years, everything is negotiable. Everyone has a price. The
Galactic Forum is no different.” There was a smug confidence in his words that
was entirely misguided. He was projecting his own self interest onto the Forum,
derailing everything mankind had been working for since the Embargo had ended
four and half centuries ago.

“If they won’t negotiate
with Earth Council, they certainly won’t deal with you.” Why should they? We
had nothing to offer, while they had all the power and millions of years of
peaceful coexistence behind them.

“They’ve been beating us
over the head with that damned Treaty of theirs for twenty five hundred years,”
he snapped. “I think it’s time we started using it against them. The Fourth
Principle allows every civilization to develop in its own way. Well, this is
our way! The Forum will have to sit on the sidelines and wait until we sort out
our own affairs and then they will deal with whoever is left in charge.” He
gave me a knowing look. “I should know, my lawyers have gone over every line in
the Treaty and its interminable guidelines, precedents, sub clauses and
exemplars. We may not have the right to attack any other species, but we sure
as hell can make war upon ourselves – as bloody and as brutal as we like. That
is
our
right!”

“You do this and they’ll
see us as ungovernable primitives, incapable of cooperating with ourselves, let
alone other civilizations. They’ll think we’re not ready.”

“We’ll convince them
otherwise,” he said confidently. “The Core Worlds will continue to honor the Access
Treaty, but without Earth and its big stick looking over our shoulders!”

“You’ve got six Core
Systems. You don’t speak for them all.”

“I don’t need to. Once
they see the Galilean Bases in ruins and a third of Earth’s fleet destroyed,
they’ll waver, and a fractured humanity will be ripe for exploitation by the
Consortium.”

“In partnership with the
Brotherhood?”

“I wouldn’t call it a
partnership, more a marriage of convenience, but that’s your doing, not mine.”

“My doing?”

“After the Soberano was
lost, the navy cracked down on our ship building operations. Their constant
surprise inspections made it impossible for us to arm our ships. Considering
your involvement in the Soberano’s disappearance, you bear the responsibility of
forcing us to find other solutions, like dealing with the Brotherhood.”

“Even if you turn the
Core Systems against Earth, they can’t win.” Maybe in another ten thousand
years when more people lived outside the Solar System than in, but not now, not
with three quarters of mankind still living within sight of Sol.

He rubbed his chins
amused. “The Consortium wins no matter what happens. We’ll sell weapons and
ships and everything else to both sides. Nothing drives up demand like a good
war.”

He was delusional about
how the Forum, the Tau Cetins and our neighbors would view us if we tore
ourselves apart in another futile human civil war. No one would accept a
collection of warring tribes into a pan-galactic community of peaceful
civilizations. No wonder the Matarons were helping this maniac. He was doing
their dirty work for them.

“You’re guilty of high
treason,” I said, realizing this had gone beyond a mere interrogation. It was
now a summary court and I was judge, jury and executioner.

“I have one alien
technical advisor you can’t link me to and a commercial arrangement with the
Brotherhood you can never prove. That’s not treason, Sirius, that’s business.”

“You’re working for the
Matarons, whether you know it or not.”

“They’re no better or
worse than us,” Ransford said dismissively. “They’re certainly not my
competitors.”

“There’s only one
punishment for traitors,” I said, my mind made up. Deep cover agents weren’t
assassins or executioners, but in Ransford’s case I’d have to make an exception.

The Chairman’s eyes
widened in fear as he realized the change in me. I took a step toward him, then
his flabby hand darted to the controls at his fingertips. His pressure chair
tilted back and skimmed to the bedroom as his exoskeletons stepped from their recharging
stations and turned as one to face me. The black exoskeleton nearby swung its pole-like
arm at me, forcing me to retreat as the Chairman’s pressure chair came to a
halt inside the bedroom doorway.

“You didn’t think I’d leave
my safety in the hands of just one young woman, did you?” Ransford said as a
smile appeared on his lips. “Goodbye Sirius. Try not to make a mess, my
cleaning bill is already excessive.”

The bedroom doors slid
shut, sealing Ransford inside, then the black exoskeleton swung at me again,
forcing me to duck under its arm. It struck the wall with a thunderous crash, leaving
an imprint in the metal surface and convincing me it would crush my head like
an egg if it landed a blow. Behind it, nine more polysteel automatons marched toward
me like slow motion robots. They were articulated frameworks walking on jointed
foot plates, lacking hands and heads and laced with motion sensors to detect
the wearer’s smallest movements. Without optics, they relied on room sensors to
track my movements and a remote artificial intelligence to direct their attacks
– all part of Ransford’s personal security system.

I glanced at the sealed
bedroom doors, certain the Chairman had escaped for now. “Another day,” I declared,
retreating toward the entertainment area followed by the mindless exoskeletons.
They were built to carry the Chairman’s enormous weight, not for speed,
allowing me to easily outrun them.

At the main entrance, I
spoke urgently to the door panel. “Open!”

“You have remained in
the guest’s quarters for seven minutes longer than required to complete your
assigned task,” the cybernetic doorman replied. “Three performance decrements
have been added to your efficiency profile. Your performance rating is now ninety
point four.”

Behind me, the
exoskeletons began bunching up as they followed the same simple pathing logic toward
me.

“Open the damn door
before I break it down!” I yelled as the robotic murder squad closed in on my
position.

“Abuse of cybernetic
service entities is a breach of the employee code of conduct,” the door panel
informed me. “A formal reprimand has been added to your personal record. You
are required to attend two hours of behavioral improvement counseling prior to
your next performance review.”

The black exoskeleton
swung an arm at me, forcing me to darted away as its blow smashed the door
panel, then all ten exoskeletons jostled each other as they tried to catch me.

I jumped onto the bar to
escape, then circled around the lounge setting, activating my communicator.
“Jase, can you hear me?”

The hissing static of a
jamming field filled my ears. It might have prevented the Chairman’s competitors
from eavesdropping on his business, but Mataron spy-tech would have cut right
through it.

I pocketed my
communicator as the exoskeletons followed me around the lounge chairs. The last
machine, painted bright red, was now the closest. It led the pack after me as I
ran to Ransford’s desk hoping to use its commlink, but quickly discovered it
required a bioscan to activate.

The red exoskeleton swung
at me, shattering several of the fragile datapanes, forcing me to retreat toward
the Tahitian holographic wall. A bright yellow exoskeleton moved to cut me off
as I ran through photonic palm trees. It tried jabbing me, but I dodged,
leaping clear as the blow punched a hole through the crystalline wall, cracking
the idyllic blue sky. White light flooded through from the other side, breaking
the illusion as I raced back to the lounge suite and waited for the headless
machines to come after me. They gave chase immediately, bunching up as I retreated
behind the lounge chairs, then when the holographic beach was clear, I charged
back toward the sea and hurled myself at the crystalline wall shoulder first. It
shattered in a shower of supersiliconized shards, then I crashed through a
second holowall on the other side and fell into the neighboring suite.

Surprised female screams
filled the air as I rolled through a dense jungle, coming to rest in front of a
white leopard which growled menacingly at me. I swept my hand through its holographic
face, confirming it was an illusion, then jumped to my feet, watched by a room
full of immaculately dressed socialites sipping cocktails, mostly older men and
younger women. The suite was similar in size to the Chairman’s, decorated with
ice sculptures of exotic birds from a dozen worlds. Server trays floated
between the guests offering drinks and hors-d’oeuvres while a twelve piece
orchestra of Tau Cetin musicians played a late fortieth century symphony at one
end of the room. It took me a moment to realize the orchestra was holographic,
then the wall behind me exploded as ten exoskeletons came crashing through,
setting off more startled cries from the party guests.

I ran through the crowd as
the exoskeletons marched after me, scattering guests and floating server trays in
their path. While screams filled the room, the holographic Tau Cetins played on
obliviously, swaying in time to the music in a very non-TC way.

“Open,” I yelled as I
reached the entrance. This time, there was no argument. The double doors slid
aside, then I darted through and turned to the exterior panel. “Close and lock,
set password: no go.”

“Confirmed. Password
set,” the panel replied.

There were no guards in
the hall. The pair I’d seen outside the Pantheon Suite must have been
exclusively for the Chairman’s protection. Exoskeletons began hammering on the
locked door as I headed for the guest elevator, peeling off my butler’s coat
and leaving it in the corridor.

“Jase, are you there?” I
said into my communicator as the elevator arrived.

“Yes, Skipper.”

“Get me out of here. Grab
the first docking slot you can,” I said, riding the elevator down one level.

“Will do.”

I pocketed the
communicator and stepped out onto the Upper Observation Deck. Alfresco cafes faced
a floor to ceiling real time display of the river of super heated gas spiraling
down onto the white dwarf’s glowing accretion disk. Walking in front of the
cafés were a pair of uniformed ship security men. They paid me no attention, so
I mingled with passengers strolling along the boardwalk eyeballing the cosmic
time bomb in the distance.

The fledgling supernova
wasn’t the only time bomb in the Duranis System. Somewhere out there was the
Mavia
,
preparing to unleash its own catastrophe upon mankind – unless I could find a
way to stop it.

* * * *

“We’re
heading in now,” Jase’s voice sounded in my ear as I took cover in the tropical
garden beyond the hanger. I’d detoured several times to avoid the ship’s
uniformed security people who were now checking the identity of every man my
height and build. Chairman Ransford had clearly ordered his toy soldiers to
arrest me once he realized the exoskeletons had failed.

“On my way,” I replied, starting toward the edge
of the garden where I could see the infopanes outside the hanger entry. There were
no uniforms in sight, then just as I was about to break cover, a small hand
caught my shoulder. I spun around to find Anya Krol, the
Cyclops’s
navigator,
standing behind me dressed as if she’d just come from one of the swimming pools:
minimal bathing suit, UV visor and wide brimmed hat over a scarf wrapped around
her forehead like a bandanna hiding her commband. I almost didn’t recognize her
without her red armor and guns.

“You’ll need this,” she said, offering me a needler,
small for my hand, just right for hers. “Twenty shots. Make them count.”

“Thanks,” I said uncertainly. “How’d you find me?”

“That airlock’s the only one open for docking, the
only way off the Aphrodite. Four of Trask’s men are waiting for you in the
hanger.

“No ship security?”

Anya shook her head. “They have orders to shoot
you on sight, but not to enter the hanger.” It was a kill zone and they’d been
driving me toward it. She handed me a Pleasure Pass keyed to another identity. “This’ll
get you through the checkpoint without setting off alarms.”