Leviathan (Asher in Ordered Space Book 2) Read online

  The shuttle Blue Sun touched down at the small spaceport that served the Meridian Company’s main mining operation. The landing pad was little more than a cleared patch of earth, reinforced with a grid of concrete strips to help support the weight of small ships. Stepping down the gangway, Asher was surprised at the cool, crisp character of the air. He realized that he had been subconsciously expecting a hot environment. Lutetia, though, was lit by a feeble, relatively distant star, so it was very much a cold desert.

  The Hokozana party was met by several delegates from the Meridian Company. Amina Popescu, as mission commander, handled the introductions. The regional manager for Meridian was a human named Patrick Embolen. His second-in-command was Irrik-yen, a Greater Kind. Asher observed the alien with open curiosity. He had seen Kind before, but Irrik-yen was perhaps the largest he had ever encountered. It stood about ten feet high, and was massively built. Its grayish skin was tightly bound over cords of muscle that powered its four legs and four arms. Its face, which graded from gray near the eyes and ears to yellow on the snout, was reminiscent of a canid or ursine, but somewhat longer. Rather than teeth, the Kind had a serrated plate running where its lips might have been. It was an intimidating creature, and Asher hoped he would never get on Irrik-yen’s bad side, or that of any Greater Kind.

  “Welcome, friends, to Archon Mine,” said the Greater Kind. Its voice was guttural and its language sounded like distant tectonic movements. Asher’s translation firmware had no difficulty, though. The Kind, like humans, were a visual and auditory species, and their communication system was a straightforward combination of sounds and occasional gestures, much like human speech.

  Amina Popescu bowed slightly to the Meridian operatives. “We thank you for this opportunity to visit your operation and see this candidate species for ourselves. On the part of Hokozana, we would like to extend the hand of friendship to the Meridian Corporation, and to yourselves and your co-operatives here on Lutetia.”

  “Thank you for your kind words,” said Patrick Embolen. “Once your team has settled in to quarters, perhaps you would be so kind as to attend a meeting in the conference room, where we will discuss the candidate sentients—what we have come to call the Shamblers.”

  After a few more pleasantries, a scruffy-looking operative arrived to show the Hokozana team to their bunks. The science team were put into a pair of rooms in a small concrete bungalow near the landing pad. Asher and Chuck were shown to a nearby room in a wooden shack that appeared to have been cobbled together from pallets. “It ain’t much,” said the scruffy miner, “but then Archon ain’t much to speak of. There’s a heater in the corner there, for when it gets cold nights. Bathrooms and showers are in the main building—just follow the signs. Quartermaster will bring anything you had stowed in the cargo bay in a few minutes. Unloading’s under way now.”

  “Thanks,” said Asher, looking around. “Believe me, I’ve slept in much worse places. This will do fine.”

  After the miner left, Asher turned to Chuck. “All right, what’s next on the agenda?”

  Chuck looked through a plexiglas window toward the back of the concrete building that housed the science team. “Check out both buildings?”

  Asher smiled. “Yeah. We should also sweep the perimeter, just to be sure that everything is as up-and-up as it seems to be. Keep an eye out for weapons, bugs, cameras, overlook positions, or anything else that you can think of.”

  “Overlook positions? Do you think they’ve got snipers on us?”

  “No, I don’t. I hope that everything is just as laid back and simple as it seems. But you don’t last long on frontier worlds by assuming that what you see is what you get.” Asher pointed through the window at the concrete bungalow where the science team were presumably discussing their own immediate plans. “For some reason, Marcolis thought those folks needed protection. I can’t guess yet why that is, but the old man always has a reason for the things he does. There must be some kind of threat here.”

  “I thought he was worried about the non-corp bandit gangs out there.” Chuck gestured off into the distance,indicating the vast desert that stretched beyond the twenty-foot concrete rampart that surrounded Archon.

  “Maybe that’s all he was concerned about, but until we know better we treat everyone as a potential threat. Be polite, but keep your eyes open and follow field protocols.”

  ***

  There were no bugs, no snipers, and the weapons they saw were what would be expected on a frontier world, and were mainly in the hands of the security subcontractors Meridian had hired for guard duty. They did spot several cameras, but everything seemed consistent with what a small corp would use to keep an eye on its facilities and its own operatives.

  Meridian’s security force was provided by a small mercenary corp named Coin-Op. There were about twenty of them, led by a man calling himself Sergeant Gary, a grizzled veteran who looked like he had seen dozens of frontier-world skirmishes. Asher introduced himself and Chuck and settled onto a bench across from the man, who was presently one of three ops occupying a combination observation post and barracks tent set right up on top of the rampart. “So, how are things out there?” Asher asked, nodding toward the desert beyond the wall.

  Sergeant Gary gave him and Chuck the once-over and evidently decided they were acceptable. He turned and looked out over the desert, then back to face Asher. “Same ol’, same ol’, I guess. There’s a couple gangs out there in the hills, but they mainly stick to raiding each other these days. Nothing like back before we took this contract.”

  “More of a mess, back then?” asked Asher.

  “Yup. Before Meridian got the mine into production this was a Hannaloc prospect. Now that was a two-bit corp if you ever saw one. Dumbasses actually hired one of the gangs for security, thinking they could pay enough to keep them honest. What a disaster.” Sergeant Gary stood and strode over to one of his operatives, a middle-aged woman with skin that looked tougher than old leather. He patted her on the shoulder “May Roca was here then. I hired here out of that gang, seeing as she was the only one of them who had a lick of sense.”

  “That’s’ right,” said the woman. Her accent was so thick Asher had to struggle to make out the words. “Grew up here. Folks came down with the first prospectors, back in the days ‘fore the corps.”

  “The mining corps made this place what it is,” said Sergeant Gary. “That’s both the good and the bad. First landfall was sixty years ago or so. Eight families set up right on top of the three major sources of technetium. Hard life, by the sound of it, but peaceful.”

  “Lots of work,” said May Roca. “Break your back for nothin’ most days, but every now and then you’d strike a lode and credits would roll in. The folks knew how to throw a party. We wasn’t kings or nothing but we lived OK. Then the corps came. First was Recerdyne, then Ore-Indie. Pretty soon there was eight-nine little outfits down here lookin’ to buy up the best prospects. My folks sold to TreCasCo, startup out of Sidereus. We was gonna leave then and find a new place, but they gave my Da a job doing security, so we stayed.”

  “That’s how they broke the place, you see,” said Sergeant Gary. “They hired the first families for a bit of protection, but pretty soon they started sending them to attack the other corps. Then the non-corp mercs found the place and got hired on, and things went downhill from there. For a while, most of the corps ended up working for the non-corps. Crazy, huh?”

  Asher nodded. He’d heard of places like this—backwater planets where small corps started acting like non-corp pirates. It rarely ended well. He felt a bit sorry for those first prospectors. They’d found the simple life they wanted, for a while, but eventually the economic reach of Ordered Space found a way to screw up any disordered world, and that’s what had happened here. “I take it the bandits used to be the mercs?”

  “Aye,” said May Roca. “And a few like me, from the settlers. Most of my folks’ generation’s gone now. Some got fragged, others got off this shitheap and went
to find a new place. Me and a few other’s all that’s left now. Don’t know why we stayed, really. Not like there’s much here to fight over nowadays. Not ‘til Meridian and Plutonic came, anyways.”

  “Plutonic?” Asher looked inquiringly at Sergeant Gary. “I heard there were two main mining corps here. Is that the other one?”

  “Yeah. Plutonic bought up Ore-Indie, Recerdyne, Bastion, and a couple of others. Meridian picked up Hannaloc, TreCasCo, Fenris, and another one I forget—”

  “ESARC,” said May Roca.

  “Yeah, that’s right, ESARC. Those two are the only game in town, now, and Meridian don’t hire the bandits no more. Plutonic still does sometimes, so Archon here used to see an attack once in a while in the months before they hired us. It’s been pretty quiet for the three months we’ve been here. Both corps have good mines that aren’t played out, so they’re making their money. Keeps them happy, I guess, and they don’t feel the need to fight so much anymore.”

  He explained how the bandits were now content to prey on one another, rather than risking the now more heavily guarded installations of the two larger mining corps. Without the enticement of corporate money, the non-corps likely didn’t want to take the risk of attacking seasoned pros like the Coin-Ops. Sergeant Gary’s little group and others like it stationed at mines across Lutetia, while in theory not much different from the non-corp mercs who had first come to the planet, were registered corps. That meant that they had to follow rules set down by the Intercorp Courts and would be far less likely to take the risk of unsanctioned military actions against a rival corp. Asher assumed that there was a perfectly valid and current Declaration of Intercorporate Rivalry between Meridian and Plutonic on file at the Courts. Even so, small corps knew better than to escalate a corp war beyond what was necessary to gain their immediate ends. Only the megacorps, with their vast reserves of credits and armies of lawyers, could expect to escape repercussions in the courts if they took a war too far beyond a strictly-worded Declaration. That was one reason the war between Hokozana and DiJeRiCo was still ongoing. In the earliest stages, each megacorp had taken the opportunity to attack positions held by the other well beyond the actual point of contention in Bright-Dim. Orbitals had been destroyed, a planet had been bombarded, and three jumpgates had been destroyed in those first days of fighting. That rapid early escalation had lead to a much broader conflict, well beyond the terms of the initial Declaration.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After their discussion with the Coin-Ops, on their way to the main administration building at Archon, Asher turned to Chuck. “Any thoughts?”

  As always when asked direct question, she seemed unsure of herself. “I— I don’t know. Do you mean about the bandits?”

  “Or the history lesson we just heard, or the Coin-Ops, or whatever.”

  She gazed intently ahead as they walked. It seemed to take her a while to organize her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Well, I suppose that the Coin-Ops seem experienced enough, although I am not sure how professional it is to hire one of the bandits into your corp.”

  Asher waved dismissively. “May Roca? Clearly she’s there for her local knowledge. She grew up here, and it’s not a big place. She presumably knows a lot of the members of the various gangs and probably a lot of operatives from both the mining corps. Sergeant Gary is no fool, though. I’m sure she can hold her own in a fight, and he must be paying her enough to guarantee her loyalty.”

  “He thinks,” said Chuck, and left it at that.

  ***

  The main administrative building at Archon Settlement was an aluminum and plasteel hut built up on a meter-tall concrete foundation. The door was guarded by another Coin-Op merc, a huge dark-skinned man who looked every bit as tough as anyone Asher had seen in Hokozana Security. The merc was armed with a particle rifle—an older GaE model, but one that was well known as a reliable and low-maintenance weapon. His name tag read simply “Growl.”

  Growl watched them closely though half-lidded eyes as they opened the door and passed into the warmer interior of the building. Asher gave him a nod, and got a noncommittal grunt in return.

  The administrative complex, such as it was, consisted mainly of cubicles, most of which were staffed by fairly relaxed-looking Meridian ops. There were probably twenty or thirty people in the bullpen. About two thirds were human and rest were Greater Kind. All of these aliens towered above their human coworkers, though none was as large as Irrik-Yen. As Asher understood it, physical size was an important component of rank in Kind society, although he wasn’t sure if large individuals were given higher positions or if the conferral of position somehow led to the growth of the holder. One of the smaller of the Kind was seated at a desk just inside the doorway. Presuming it to be a receptionist, Asher asked the way to the conference room. The Kind greeted him courteously and indicated a hall leading out of the bullpen to the right.

  ***

  When Asher and Chuck arrived in the conference room, they found several long tables pulled together in the center of the space, creating a large surface around which various people, including both Patrick Embolen and Irrik-Yen, were gathered. They appeared to be examining something—paper maps or plans perhaps—laid out on the table. Another merc, a small, strongly-muscled woman leaned casually against the wall beyond them. As Asher and Chuck entered, Embolen detached himself from the group and came to greet them. “Hello there,” he said. “You’re the first of the Hokozana party to arrive. Sent to scout ahead of the main assault, eh?”

  Chuck smiled nervously. Asher said, “More or less. I imagine the rest are busy making sure all their equipment is in order. In Security we don’t carry much beyond our weapons, so it’s much less of a hassle for us.”

  “I see you didn’t feel the need to bring your guns in here, though. I suppose we should take that as a compliment.”

  Asher laughed. “Hadn’t thought about it really. Truth is, I do have my sidearm, and I’m sure Chuck does as well. We’re trained to carry them everywhere. It’s just concealed under a flap of my skinsuit.” Asher showed the man the small holster on his hip which concealed his preferred sidearm, an EOS Talon 3 semi-auto pistol.

  Embolen’s smile fell from his face for a brief moment as he regarded the weapon, but he promptly restored the facade. “Well, I suppose that’s well enough. We do have security in here, though.” He gestured to where the Coin-Op merc slouched against the far wall of the room.

  Asher shrugged “Corporate policy, I’m afraid. We’re the Security team, after all.” That wasn’t true at all—Hokozana understood perfectly that there were times when Security ops would have to go unarmed for a variety of protocol reasons, but the Meridian folks hadn’t requested it. Asher glanced sidelong at Chuck and gave her a slightly arched eyebrow. She nodded slightly in return, indicating that she also thought it was a bit odd for the regional manager of the mining company to take such an interest in their weaponry. Asher gave her a signal with two fingers, disguising the motion by pretending to scratch his arm. While he stood there and occupied Embolen, Chuck feigned boredom and began to wander around the table, placing herself in a good spot to keep an eye on both the administrators and the merc.

  In a few minutes, the remainder of the Hokozana team arrived. The personable Popescu disengaged Embolen from Asher and smoothly began a casual conversation with the Meridian boss. The two biologists, Chaffee and Ben Aron, ignored Asher and wandered over to look at the plans spread out on the table. Leah Minter, the programmer, stood near the door looking awkward.

  In the end, it was Irrik-Yen who called the meeting to order. “Operatives,” it rumbled, “we are here to discuss the Shamblers. We may, finally, with help from our friends at Hokozana, come to a final resolution to this conundrum.”

  Conundrum? Asher wondered. That seemed an odd term for what he had taken to be a relatively simple situation.

  “But first, of course, we have to introduce one more party to our discussion.” Irrik-Yen gestured to the doorway, which was
held open by one of the Meridian operatives. Three small figures came through to stand before the door. Asher stood and stared, open-mouthed. The newcomers were the First Cythran Spacelift Corporation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Asher had last seen the Cythrans on board their home-made ship, the Sessareia, after their last minute escape from the destruction of Cierren Cythra. Qwadaleemia, the most personable of the group and its informal leader, had piloted that ship. Now she stood here in an isolated mining outpost on an out-of-the-way planet, with her creche-mates Garueeria and Faraneeta. “This can’t be a coincidence,” said Asher.

  Qwadaleemia rustled here mouth-appendages and burbled, the somewhat jarring Cythran form of speaking. Asher’s translator, used to her mannerisms by now, had no problem picking up what she was saying. “[Laughter] Oh, no, Asher, not a coincidence indeed. It is good to see you again. We will explain everything in short order. Perhaps in the meantime, you might make the introductions?”

  Asher, still feeling a bit dazed, introduced the Cythrans to the members of the Hokozana team. The exobios, Chaffee and Ben Aron, both stared in open amazement at the newcomers. Amina Popescu, whom Asher had already decided was a very smart woman, gave him a long, hard look. It’s not my fault, he wanted to tell her. I had no idea they would be here. But he could see how it must appear to her. What were the chances that the operative who had set the Cythrans free would just randomly happen upon them again during his next important assignment? It must look to everyone as though he and Qwadie’s creche had been conspiring to bring this meeting about.

  Qwadaleemia seemed unconcerned about the predicament into which she had thrust Asher, even though she was certainly bright enough to notice it. The female Cythrans were all geniuses, genetically-engineered savants who grasped new concepts in no time at all. That was what had so attracted Hokozana to them in the first place, and instilled the hope that they could become the newest Participant Species. The results of those first contacts had been catastrophic. The First Cythran Spacelift Corporation were exiles now, their world was destroyed, and there were perhaps no more than a handful of other Cythrans still alive. Asher was pretty sure that Hokozana still held Miraneeria, a Cythran he had helped capture. Their rivals in DiJeRiCo had controlled Cierren Cythra for a few days before its destruction, and they probably had kidnapped a few of the natives as well. Other than Qwadie’s people and those few captives, there were no Cythrans left in the universe.