Fringe Runner (Fringe Series Book 1) (8 page)

Shadowed Secrets

Heid

Gabriela and Sebin spent a picture-perfect day strolling around their hometown of First City and concluding with a dinner cruise on the Great Sea. Everything worked out exactly as she’d planned. She wanted Sebin to remember every detail of his life-changing day.

She knew to passersby that they looked like a couple. However, as long as she was Sebin’s commanding officer, it was a line she didn’t dare cross. She had worked tirelessly her entire life to make Commandant. She’d never risk it for something as selfish as love.

She guided him off the busy sidewalk and into the dark alley.

Sebin threw a furtive glance over his shoulder at the commotion of the city they were leaving behind. “Where are we going?”

Her smile grew wider. “You’ll see soon enough.”

They had to walk around a dumpster before the door came into view.

Very few Alluvians knew of the pub with no name at the end of the alley. Even fewer knew the role it played in shaping the Collective—both past and future. Heid hadn’t yet joined the CUF when her father brought her here for the first time, a girl of barely fifteen years. Up until that moment, her father had overseen her training to become a Founder, like his father had done before him. She remembered every vivid detail of the alley and the pub, just as Sebin was taking it all in now.

She led Sebin into the dingy establishment. The pub smelled of fermented sea reeds and long since outlawed cigars. Any proper citizen would turn around at the door and leave, which made the pub all the safer for the Founders’ activities. Inside, the tables and barstools sat empty like lonely customers to the jukebox as it crooned a soulful song. The only person in the bar was the barkeep, who glanced up from washing glasses. The man, a Founder known simply as Bartender, gave the smallest nod to Heid, and she returned the gesture with the slightest smile.

“This way.” She motioned Sebin to follow her past the bar and down a dark hallway, where she continued past the bathrooms until they reached the end. On the wall hung an oil painting. It was classic Alluvian artwork, portraying a schooner caught on a wave in a torrential storm.

Giving the painting little notice, she slid her hand behind the frame and felt the wall until she brushed the fingerprint scanner hidden within it. The technology was ancient but foolproof. When the lock clicked, she stepped back and let go of the painting.

She pressed her hands against the wall and pushed. The wall moved inward, revealing a staircase leading down into darkness. She glanced back at Sebin to see his eyes wide and jaw lax. She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. We’re nearly there.”

He didn’t let go for a long moment. When he did, he took a tentative first step through the wall space, and she followed. She pushed the wall back into its original arrangement, not moving until the locks clicked back into place.

Dim lights came on with each step to illuminate their way. There were one-hundred-forty-five steps. She’d counted them once. They were so far below the water table that they were deep into the planet’s bedrock. A battle could be waged down here, and no sensors on the surface would pick up any hint of a sound or vibration.

The original Founders had built this facility for secrecy and seclusion not long after First City was colonized and Myr made it clear they owned the new settlement. The leader of the Alluvian settlement, Jacob Mason, believed that more colonies would be formed in the future and rejected the idea of a Myrad empire. At a time when Alluvia was still in its infancy, the visionary pulled together a group of powerful, like-minded individuals to help shape a “collective” of worlds. Mason’s group eventually came to be called the Founders.

It took the organization eighty-seven years to instigate the War that would gain Alluvia’s independence and form the Collective. Unfortunately, many Founders were killed during the War and not enough survived to maintain full control of the government. They were outnumbered in the new Parliament, which quickly created a joint military force—the Collective Unified Forces.

By that time, the first Mason had long since died from old age. The new Mason knew the threat the Founders posed to an inexperienced government structure. Sure enough, the CUF’s first directive was to hunt down and arrest all Founders, citing them as dangerous dissenters to the Collective. Many died, but Mason had gone to great lengths to ensure the Founders weren’t completely lost.

The Founders had become the stuff of legends.

Where they had taken public stands before, their success now depended on the Collective believing they didn’t exist. Shadow games became their new modus operandi.

As more and more colonies were established, the Founders grew to include a select few members from these new worlds. Despite the group’s actions to bring about the Uprising, the group failed in achieving a Collective that the original Mason envisioned hundreds of years earlier.

Heid still believed in the vision of the first Mason, but she knew not all Founders followed that path. Still, she’d never stop working to see that vision made a reality…with or without the Founders at her side.

Sebin and Heid reached the final stair step to find a trio of Founders waiting for them.

The man in the center spoke. “Sebin Reinhardt, I am Mason. We are the Three who oversee the Founders. We have been looking forward to your initiation. Since I represent the Alluvian Founders, I’ve been especially looking forward to meeting you and adding you to my branch.”

Sebin froze and glanced back at Heid. He mouthed
your father?

She nodded tightly.

He grinned, snapped around, and shook the man’s hand. “It’s an honor, sir, truly.”

Mason then looked at Heid. “It’s been far too long, Baker.” His words were hard and cold.

Heid forced a smile. “Yes, it has,” she replied just as coldly.

Mason turned his attention back to Sebin. “Sebin Reinhardt, you have been in training for seven years. You have progressed from neophyte to accolade. Now, it is time for you to become a Founder. Are you ready?”

Sebin straightened. “I am ready.”

Mason regarded Heid. “Baker, do you vouch for this candidate?”

She stepped behind Sebin. “I do.”

“Remove your shirt, candidate.” Mason commanded.

Sebin obeyed without question and Heid took his shirt.

Mason motioned to the two with him, and the three formed a semicircle around Sebin.

Heid took a hold of Sebin’s wrist and lifted his arm.

Mason began. “Sebin Reinhardt, you have been deemed worthy. Once you are marked as a member, your legal name will never exist on the tongues of Founders. To the worlds, you remain Sebin Reinhardt, but to the Founders, you will be only known as Painter.”

Mason held up a small metal device. “I, Mason of Alluvia, hereby induct you, Sebin Reinhardt, into the Order of the Collective Founders as Painter. Your role will be to bring to life the Founders’ plans, using the six worlds of the Collective as your canvas. Do you accept this role?”

“I accept,” Sebin replied quickly.

“Then I anoint you Painter.” With that, Mason pressed the metal device against the upper inner part of Sebin’s bicep, and the skin sizzled. Sebin winced but didn’t pull from Heid’s grasp.

Mason stepped back and handed the branding iron to the woman to his right. She stepped forward. “I, Mariner of Myr, anoint you Painter.” She pressed the iron near the spot Mason had branded seconds earlier.

Sebin’s skin sizzled again, and this time he let out a hiss before clamping his mouth shut. Heid grabbed his forearm with her other hand to support him—and to make sure he didn’t pull away.

Mariner handed the iron to the man to Mason’s left who then stepped up to Sebin. “I, Aeronaut of the colonies, anoint you Painter.” He branded Sebin a third time.

Aeronaut stepped back, and Mason spoke. “Painter, what are you?”

Sebin held his head high, and he began to chant.

I am a raindrop in a storm.

I am a bubble in a waterfall.

I am a tear in the eversea.

I am water.

I am a Founder.

Everyone chanted the second verse together.

We are the storm.

We are the waterfall.

We are the eversea.

We are the Founders.

We are the free.

Mason clicked his boots together. “For the free.”

Everyone clicked their boots in response. “For the Founders.”

Heid touched Sebin’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Welcome, Painter.”

He embraced her and spun them around. He grinned widely before releasing her to examine his brands. Three runes stood bright white on reddened skin. Each mark represented an equal branch of the Founders—towers for Alluvia, waves for Myr, and wings for the colonies.

Heid warned him. “No one except a Founder can ever lay their eyes on those brands, do you understand? No men in the showers, no woman you sleep with, no one.”

He gave her a sly grin. “No problem.”

Mason said, “To all the worlds, we must not exist, or else we’ll fail.”

Heid found herself filled with pride as she watched Sebin in his accomplishment. She tugged his hang. “Now, let’s go upstairs and celebrate.”

Building a Rebellion

“What do you mean, ‘we’re not leaving the Coast’?” Throttle asked. “Two hours ago, you couldn’t wait to leave.”

“Change of plans. We’ve got to talk,” Reyne said and plopped down on a seat in the commons. He looked around. “Where’s Sixx?”

Throttle fidgeted. “He…”

“He stepped out to see someone,” Doc said. “He said he’d be back before thirteen-twenty.”

Reyne muttered a string of curses.

Boden, who lounged in his chair across the table from Reyne, nodded to the doorway. “Speak of the devil.”

Reyne turned to see Sixx walk in. Reyne kicked out of his chair and pointed. “You can’t keep it in your pants long enough to look after the crew?”

Sixx scowled. “Boden had things covered. I had to see someone.” He paused. “It won’t happen again.”

“Damn it, Sixx. If something had happened, it’d be on you.”

Sixx held up his hands in defeat. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

Reyne froze, shocked at Sixx’s words. “Whoa. Hold on. You never apologize.”

Sixx grabbed a drink. Everyone watched as he took a long swig in silence. When he finally spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. “I heard a rumor that Qelle was here.”

Reyne’s jaw dropped. “Your wife?”

Boden frowned. “I thought she was dead.”

“She is,” Reyne said. “Or, at least she’s believed to be. She was on a CUF hauler when it went off-grid. Neither that ship nor any of its crew has ever been recovered.” He turned back to his friend. “Sixx, she’s gone.”

“I know.” He pulled out his comm. “Kason still runs searches across all video channels for me. He sent me a feed from Nova Colony’s hallways. It’s grainy and dark, but it came back as a seventy-nine percent match. It’s Qelle. I know it.”

He handed his comm to Reyne, who examined the lo-res video. “It’s too poor quality to make out anyone. If it was Qelle, why didn’t she contact you?”

Sixx slumped into a chair. “I don’t know, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still out there, somewhere.”

Reyne made a mental note to tell Kason not to send any more videos to Sixx. It did no good to get the man’s hopes up when his wife had been lost to the abyss over ten years earlier.

No one spoke for a long moment. Sixx looked up. “What are we sitting around for? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Change of plans,” Throttle said, echoing Reyne’s earlier words.

“Shit. That’s never a good sign.” Sixx eyed Reyne. “How dangerous is it?”

Reyne sighed and pulled his torrent pendant out from under his shirt. “As dangerous as it gets.”

*

Two days later

“How long do we have to sit around on our asses and wait for our next run? So far, being a torrent runner is boring,” Throttle said as she organized the cabinets in the commons for the umpteenth time.

“Remember how I said that boring is good when it comes to flying?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s also good when it comes to being a torrent.”

She blew out a sigh. Reyne ignored her and kept reading.

“Look at the bright side,” Sixx said, not taking his eyes off the news. “As long as we’re sitting in a dock, we’re not doing anything that would get us locked up in the Citadel.”

“Fine,” she said glumly. “I still wish Reyne would let us take the
Gryphon
out for some flying around the Coast. Now that we’re torrents, the pirates will lay off us.”

“Note to Throttle,” Sixx countered. “Most pirates are
not
torrents. Most pirates are scum who find pleasure in stealing, raping, and killing. Now always in that order. Whoa.” Sixx swung his feet off the table with a thud. “Reyne, you’d better see this.”

Reyne did bother looking. “What is it?”

Sixx motioned to the screen. “I think I just found your package.”

That got Reyne’s attention.

“Replay most recent news clip,” Sixx said.

The screen froze and played a news clip showing satellite shots of a city covered in a gray haze.

What was first believed to be a tragic accident on United Day has now been confirmed as a terrorist attack.

“There,” Sixx pointed. “Freeze video. Continue audio.”

It took a moment for Reyne to make out what Sixx had seen, but once he did, he could see nothing else. He came to his feet and stared.

Dr. Willem Song, a senior scientist at Genics Corp, died as a result of suffocation. Dr. Song was the botanist behind blue tea, which has been credited with saving hundreds of thousands of lives by helping people survive on less water than normally possible. His death is a tragic loss to the Collective. At the time of his death, he was at Genics Corp’s highest security lab on Myr’s Moon, overseeing their gene-editing program. In the attack, twelve civilians and over eight hundred tenured were killed.

It is believed that a fungal agent was released within the laboratory. Government officials have determined that the fungus, when exposed to air, produced a mass of spores. Once inhaled, these spores adhered to the lining of the lungs and quickly multiplied, suffocating the victims. There is no fungicide to at this time, and government officials have quarantined the infected lab until further notice.

Dr. Zara Wintsel, president of Genics Corp, has offered her condolences to the families of those who’ve been lost to what she calls the “blight.” Dr. Wintsel has pledged that Genics Corp will continue operations and that her top priority is to develop a fungicide for the blight. Myr has pledged one billion credits to support Genics Corp’s efforts. In addition, Corp General Michel Ausyar of the Collective Unified Forces has promised a swift response to this abhorrent form of bioterrorism.

Genics Corp, the worlds-renowned pharmaceutical organization, is headquartered in the Smithton province on Myr. This is Lina Tao reporting for DZ-Five, your Collective news source.

Reyne never took his eyes off the frozen video. He didn’t know how it got there, but he did know that he was looking at the package he and Sixx retrieved off that Myrad hauler. An icy chill climbed his spine. He’d transported a weapon of mass destruction.

What the hell had Vym been planning to do with it?

“Did you see it?” Sixx asked. “Sounds like the old doctor might have gotten a taste of his own medicine.”

Without responding, Reyne left the room, put on his suit, and headed straight to the Uneven Bar.

People still glared, some threw out names and colorful descriptions of what they thought of Reyne, but no one attacked him. Critch had made it clear the crew of the
Gryphon
was now under his protection, and Reyne imagined how much it must’ve pained the pirate to make that declaration.

He found Critch sitting alone and eating a meal. He was easy to spot, with his telltale scars. Reyne knew the man had more than enough credits to have his skin repaired, but he also knew that Critch wasn’t the type of man who was into superficial improvements. He was a man who could never be bought, blackmailed, or tricked. It made him a stalwart ally…and a dangerous opponent.

Reyne grabbed a chair at Critch’s table and sat down. “I thought torrents were above bioterrorism.”

The pirate tossed his napkin over his half-f plate. “Ah, so you saw the blight.”

Reyne rubbed his chin. “I’m still trying to put the pieces together, but they’re not fitting. My guess is Myr had Genics Corp create the blight. They’re the only corporation out there with the brainpower to create something like that, and they’re based on Myr. That part was easy. Hell, their name was even on the crate. What I don’t understand is why this package traveled all the way out to edge of the fringe only to be brought back to its home.”

“Think about it. Why would Vym have the package brought out to her?”

Reyne stared at Critch for a long moment. His jaw slackened when the pieces fell into place. “Vym was the target, except the package was intercepted.”

Critch nodded. “I think Ice Port was the target, not just Vym. You saw the blight. If they hit Ice Port, Playa’s only space dock would be out of commission, essentially taking an entire planet out of the game. Some Myrad number cruncher must’ve decided that Playa’s exports weren’t worth the benefit of eliminating them. It was an easy plan. Release the blight on Ice Port using a good cover story. Every fringe station will be terrified that they’re next. Myr announces they’ve created a fungicide, and every colony would pledge full support to Myr without any bloodshed.”

Reyne considered Critch’s words. “It’s vicious, but it makes sense. Playa has always brought more hassle than profit to the Collective. Sacrificing Playa would make it easy for Myr to take control of the other fringe stations.”

Reyne frowned and shook his head. “But the CUF grabbed the package. I can’t believe the CUF would attack a Myrad location. That seems low, even for them.”

“We don’t believe it was the CUF.”

“Then who was it?”

“There’s obviously another player in the game.”

“Alluvia?”

Critch shrugged. “Makes the most sense.”

Reyne leaned back. “So, the package was intercepted not once but twice? That makes it a game of hot potato.”

“Near as I can tell, yes.” The pirate came to his feet.

“Done eating already?”

“Lost my appetite.”

Reyne sighed. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have talk to me sometime.”

Critch held up a finger. “First, you work
for
me. You’re not working
with
me.” He held up two fingers. “Second, a lot of good people died on Terra because of you. I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t feel like it.”

Reyne rolled his eyes. “You know, maybe one day you’ll believe me that I didn’t betray the cause.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” Then, he left.

After sampling Critch’s leftovers, Reyne returned to his ship with a sinking feeling that he’d gotten himself and his crew into a bigger spider web of danger than he’d ever imagined.

The Uprising had been pure and simple—a fight for the colonies to gain equal rights in Parliament, citizenship for all. It was a belief he still fervently held despite every blasted colonist in the fringe thinking him a traitor.

This new Uprising was complicated. Now, it was a bid for survival, with the colonies standing in the middle of the ring, between two heavyweight fighters. Myr and Alluvia were dangerous enough, but there was possibly a fourth contender standing in the corner, and he had a hell of a right hook.

His comm chimed, and he read the message. Once he climbed back onto the
Gryphon
and out of his suit, he leaned against a comm on the wall. He took a deep breath and broadcast to the crew. “To your stations. Cargo is on its way. We’re heading out in one hour.”