Participant Species: Asher in Ordered Space Volume I Read online

  Immediately, he knew this was a Hokozana production. A distinctive chime sounded and a disembodied male voice said, “Hokozana internal memorandum. This communication is coded top secret and is intended for recipient Two-Bar Donald Quentil Asher, Hokozana Security Operations. Confirm your identity.” Asher cleared his mind and thought the sequence of security images that would enable the pin drive to confirm that this was his neural net and he was not being compelled or spoofed. “Identity confirmed. Neural network active, download underway. Proceeding to video message.”

  Drienner Marcolis’ face appeared in the air between Asher and the ceiling of the room. Asher knew that it was an illusion. His neural net was supplying information directly to his visual cortex. “Hello again, Donnie,” said Marcolis. “By now, I hope you know something about Bright-Dim and Cierren Cythra. I expect you’ve at least downloaded the brochures that Zvezda is handing out like cheap candy. As you might expect, you’re here because we need an experienced groundside op on this one.”

  Asher had, in fact, expected that. Most of the Security Division consisted of the guards and police who watched over Hokozana’s orbital and planetside installations. Others were stationed on Fleet ships, where they were classed as marines. To Asher’s knowledge, no one had ever actually needed a marine or infantry in space combat. Mostly, the security operatives attached to Fleet just sat around guarding the brig. Asher—in part because his father had insisted on taking him along on all kinds of planetside biological surveys—was one of a few operatives who were deployed on special missions on wild or frontier planets.

  Marcolis’ avatar continued. “You’re going down to Cierren Cythra tomorrow. We’re sending an op-team in to make direct contact with the Cythrans. We’ve cleared this with Zvezda, who are convinced we’re looking to buy the system, but we expect that DiJeRiCo and maybe some other corps won’t be too happy about it. You’re cleared to take any non-explosive weapons you want. The SOP and contingency Rules of Engagement are part of this download packet. The main point to remember is don’t kill any Cythrans!”

  Asher was exhilarated by the idea of stepping out onto a disordered planet. There was nothing to compare to the open space of an undeveloped world, especially after so long cooped up on ships and orbitals. He delved into the data he had downloaded and found out that Cierren Cythra did in fact have an Oxy atmosphere. He wouldn’t need any rebreather, vacuum suit, or genetic mods to get by. Fortunately, his skinsuit had a built in Oxy-assist system to compensate for the thin atmosphere.

  “The rest of the team is already on the way. We’ve had a couple operatives down there for a few days. The others landed this afternoon. Mission commander is Namen Ravkar, from Marketing. She’s a diplomat and supposedly a specialist in small, person-to-person deals. Lorien Worthy is with Lang and Cult in Research. She’s there to advise on dealing with the Cythrans if things get sticky. I think you already know Hasim Jaydrupar, an eye-op/spy-op guy from the dark and secret desk at Intel. Then there’s one other security op. I got Kazmalewski, which should make you happy.

  “The plan is to cut a side deal with the Cythrans. We think we can get in on the ground floor with them and that should put us in the driving seat for the coming bid war over the planet. We’re already pretty sure that we’re going to lose the system to DiJeRiCo, who are already too close to the Zvezda people. Corporate has decided to push for the planet. Given the Cythran presence, it’s the real prize here, anyway. Some of the higher-ups are hoping that DiJeRiCo will be happy with the resources it can get from the rest of the system and let us take Cierren Cythra. Fat chance of that, I think, but at least with the Cythrans on our side, the courts will have to declare Bright-Dim a joint system. Maybe even an open system. Anyway, get some rest, then get in touch with me over subnet at 0600. We’re going to set up a shuttle to get you down there.”

  Asher sighed and closed his eyes as the Marcolis’ avatar blinked out. Going straight to the Cythrans was a daring idea. If Hokozana really could get in under DiJeRiCo’s nose and cut a deal for the planet, then the Intercorp courts would rule Bright-Dim a joint system. Access would be opened up and Hokozana would have its contracts in place for trade with the Cythrans. Of course, if they failed to cut a deal and DiJeRiCo won the bidding war, the system would be declared proprietary, and any Hokozana assets left after thirty days would be forfeit.

  It would be good to be paired up with Kazmalewski again. Kaz was another old hand at getting around on frontier and undeveloped planets. Like Asher, he had been in Security for years and knew his way around in a tough spot. Jaydrupar was not such a delightful prospect. Asher had once been traveling on a Hokozana cruiser that had been contracted to rescue a stranded Ferether ship. Jaydrupar had headed up a small crew from Intel who had had some obscure role in the negotiations. Asher was fairly sure that their real goal had been to get on board the stricken ship to gather information on the Ferethers.

  Then, just after Jaydrupar and his party had returned from a face-to-face meeting with the Ferethers, the stranded ship had exploded, sending the Hokozana cruiser spinning off with severe damage to the forward bulkheads. At least fifty Hokozana Fleet operatives had died in the blast. The official explanation was that the Ferether ship’s fusion reactor had melted through its shielding and set off a series of minor explosions which cascaded through other systems, resulting in the detonation. Asher wasn’t sure that he believed that account. He thought that there was something more to Jaydrupar’s role in the disaster. He had clearly seen that one of the suited and helmeted Intel operatives who came back with Jaydrupar’s party was too tall and lanky to be human. The whole catastrophe seemed to be an elaborate cover for abducting a Ferether for some mysterious reason known only to Intel.

  Asher didn’t know either of the other operatives he would meet on Cierren Cythra, so he dug up their dossiers through a subnet link. Namen Ravkar was clearly an up-and-comer in Marketing and Acquisitions. She was a diplomat who was primarily responsible for three deals with smaller corps that the higher-ups seemed to think had been good for Hokozana. The photo showed a sharp-eyed, dark-skinned woman who could have been anything from twenty-five to forty. In fact, she was thirty-one.

  Lorien Worthy was a veteran of the Lang and Cult desk, with almost thirty years of experience. Asher figured she was there mainly to lend wise counsel to Ravkar. Her photo showed an attractive face with pronounced laugh lines, blue eyes, and a nice smile. It was framed by a very full head of light blond hair.

  Other than Jaydrupar, it seemed like a good group.

  Chapter Two

  Asher’s neural net woke him at his standard 0500. He had an hour before he had to get in contact with Marcolis. After his morning exercise routine and a quick trip to the tiny bathroom cube, he went out onto the concourse. The Cashion Bar was open, despite the early hour. A few operatives, probably hungover or still drunk, were eating greasy breakfasts. Asher got himself some pancakes and bacon. He knew pretty much everything was made from soy cakes and flavoring, but it still tasted pretty good. He then headed out to the main docking spar where he had first arrived on the station. He was standing alone in front of a window watching as the terminator from the larger star, Bright, advanced across the surface of Cierren Cythra when he made contact with Cormorant and asked to be put through to Marcolis on an encrypted line.

  The old man came online after a few moments. Both knew that everything they said was being recorded by the station’s computers, encryption or no, so they kept things intentionally vague. One benefit of the neural nets was that these kinds of communications were kept subvocal. Asher just had to go through the thought process and action of speaking without actually making any sound, and his neural net would format it and transmit through his subnet implant. Marcolis’ side of the conversation was relayed directly to the auditory centers of Asher’s brain. Asher could tell that Cormorant was in an orbit close to Zvezda One, because there was minimal delay in the conversation.

  “When do I get down there?” ask
ed Asher.

  “Soon, Donnie,” said Marcolis. “We can’t get you on a Hokozana shuttle just now, so we’ve booked you on the Sissilbeni, a local system-ship. She’s at dock-gate forty-five. Right now, she’s scheduled to leave at 0730, but you know that’s prone to change with these freelancers, so keep an eye on the departure table.”

  “Sissilbeni?” asked Asher. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “You won’t believe it, but it’s a Cythran-owned ship.”

  Asher hesitated. He accessed the Zvezda brochures but could find nothing about Cythrans having space-faring abilities. In fact, they were clearly a low-tech species. Their technological development was analogous to the Bronze Age of Earth’s past, at best. “How can they have a ship, Sir? Aren’t they archaeo-tech?”

  “They were, Donnie, twenty years ago. It’s one of the reasons we need to get people down there to meet them. They seem to be exceptionally good at incorporating and making use of new technology. Perhaps better than any species we’ve ever heard of.” Asher thought he could detect a note of excitement in Marcolis’ tone.

  He could see why the old man might be a bit revved up about the Cythrans. If they were that good at adapting new technologies, they might become a Participant Species in record time. No wonder Hokozana wanted to make nice with them. They could be a gold mine. In fact, if they became a Participant, they might even convince the Intercorp Courts to kick DiJeRiCo out of the system, based on the Cythrans’ own prior claim. With strong contracts in place, Hokozana could get exclusive access without having to pay through the nose for it. Asher had thought that the plan as just to get a foothold in the system to deny DiJeRiCo exclusive access, but there was clearly a bigger game going on here than he had realized.

  “Okay, Sir. I’ll be on board.”

  “Excellent. Your contact on the ship is the captain, a Cythran named Qwadaleemia. She will put you in touch with our people once you’re planetside.”

  “Got it, Sir. Asher out.”

  “Marcolis out.”

  Asher’s awareness snapped back to his immediate surroundings. He looked out the window. Bright’s terminator had swept about a third of the way across the planet in just the few minutes he had been linked. Sunrise must happen in a flash on Cierren Cythra. He checked his downloads again. The average Cythran day was only six standard hours. That was the Bright-Day, anyway. It was followed by an additional two hours of Dim-Day, when the smaller star was alone in the sky. After that there was an eight-hour night. In fact, he could now see the paler terminator of the smaller, yellower Dim on the edge of the planet, following its larger and bluer sibling.

  The time was 0615. He had more than an hour to kill before the ship was scheduled to leave. He had nothing else to do, so he wandered the concourse, watching people setting about their early-morning tasks. There were obvious preparations for a meeting in the Zvezda offices. He saw a stream of Green-and-Gold DiJeRiCo operatives heading through the doors. Maybe they were going to make their initial offer for the system. If so, that would set off an auction of titanic proportions. He could imagine that hundreds of other corps must be desperately trying to get their representatives out to Zvezda One to comply with the Intercorp requirement that all bids for major real estate like planets and star systems must be made in person and in-system. That was supposed to cut down on bids from uncommitted parties who were only interested in driving up the price for their competitors. Even agents weren’t allowed, only registered operatives of the company lodging the bid.

  As he walked, he noticed the surly Ferether, this time with another of its species. He watched these two for a few minutes. All Ferethers looked pretty much the same to him, and he was only sure that this was the one from yesterday because his neural net had made a detailed record of the alien.

  Very little was really known about Ferethers. While they were thought to be a sexual species, only the male-equivalents were ever seen in Ordered Space. Or at least, those that were commonly classed as the male-equivalents. That might say more about human preconceptions of sexual roles than it did about the Ferethers, since human sexes really bore no necessary relationship to those found in alien species.

  Both of the Ferethers Asher was watching now were classed as males. They were walking together, not communicating in any obvious way. Ferethers were a high-tech species, though, and it was quite likely that the two were communicating via a direct subnet link or some other non-vocal system hardwired into them. They didn’t seem to be doing anything very interesting, so Asher eventually stopped discreetly following them and drifted back toward the docking gates.

  Once he reached the spar, he just stood and watched the day spread across the face of Cierren Cythra. He made sure to link his neural net to the station departure board. He would be notified instantly if any changes were made to the departure plans of the Sissilbeni.

  By 0715 Asher was standing in front of a locked boarding gate. The light above was yellow, indicating the ship was docked but not yet ready for passengers. There was also a blue indicator that meant she was still looking for fares. That was typical of freelance transport ships in backwater systems. They always tried to cram in as many paying customers as they could, right up until the last minute.

  There were two other passengers waiting for transport. Both were Zvezda operatives, judging by their maroon-and-gray uniforms. One was an older man with thick spectacles who looked to Asher like a scientist or tech of some sort. The other was a fit young woman who he judged to be a security op, based on the confident way she carried herself and the fact that she was carrying a handgun in a concealed underarm holster. He was idly imagining a round of hand-to-hand training with her when the light above the gate switched to green and the door retracted into the roof of the corridor.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then a small figure waddled out of the opening. It was a Cythran. Based on the mediocre images Asher had access to, he figured it for a male. The females would be larger and yellower. He checked the translator on his lapel. It was on.

  The Cythran wiggled it six head tentacles and made a burbling sound. “My name be Sarudeero. Welcome aboard cargo-people ship Sissilbeni.”

  Asher sighed. He had just downloaded a Cythran translation program from a Zvezda info portal this morning. Either the dictionaries just weren’t very good or his neural net was still struggling with the new language, which was a complex mix of burbling sounds and tentacle-gestures. He hoped it was the latter. He knew that between his own senses and the micro cameras and receivers embedded in several spots in his uniform and the skinsuit he wore beneath, he should be picking up every sound and gesture. He figured that it was probably poor translation work on the part of the Zvezda people that accounted for the Cythran’s seemingly strange speech patterns.

  The small Cythran stood to one side, allowing the three passengers to shuffle past him into the airlock. When Sarudeero had squeezed in with them, the door slid shut. “Pressure balance in five seconds,” said a tinny DevCo AI device. “Pressure balanced. Stand clear of the exterior door.”

  The outer door of the airlock retracted, and the humans and their Cythran guide passed into the rigid tunnel that led to docking collar. The tunnel was only about fifty meters long, indicating to Asher that the Sissilbeni was docked close to the station. He had been in tunnels up to several hundreds meters long, with complex turns and jukes as they articulated to reach ships in more distant orbits.

  At the end of the tunnel, they passed through a second airlock and entered the nondescript cargo bay of the Sissilbeni. Asher he couldn’t place the class or style of the ship, despite his significant experience with in-system vessels. “Excuse me,” he asked Sarudeero, “what kind of ship is this?”

  “This is cargo-people ship. You seats this way,” said the Cythran as he made a gesture that Asher’s neural net interpreted as, “follow me.”

  “I know it’s a passenger and cargo ship,” said Asher. “What I meant was, what is its class and manufacturer?”
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  “Oh. This ship manufactured by Killman Corporation of your planet Griesa. Type was called Celelift-1. Very old now, by you standards, I am sure.” Sarudeero indicated a row of crash seats, “You sits here, please?”

  “A Killman?” said Asher, taking one of the seats. “Not too old at all. This is a classic. Great ship.”

  “Thank you,” said a new voice. Asher turned to face a larger Cythran. Probably a female, his neural net informed him. The newcomer must have come from a forward cabin. “Welcome to the in-system ship Sissilibeni, of the First Cythran Spacelift Corporation. I am the pilot and captain. My name is Qwadaleemia.”

  Unlike Sarudeero, who was naked, Qwadaleemia wore a yellow, tubular vinyl garment that covered most of the barrel-like trunk of her body. Her head-appendages were free and unencumbered, as were her feet. Asher noticed that Cythrans had long, prehensile toes.

  The captain continued, addressing the passengers in the same professional tones human ship captains used, an old practice designed to establish a rapport and ease the concerns of nervous travelers. “We will be departing in just under five standard minutes. I expect a thirty-second burn early, so you need to be strapped in right from the start. We’re looking at twenty minutes of void flight then forty-five minutes of atmospheric. We’ll be touching down at the new spaceport in Marateen at about 0835 standard. I would tell you the local time, but it wouldn’t make sense and your translation software would just render it to standard anyway. Suffice it to say you will be arriving on Cierren Cythra in the full glory of Bright-Day.” With that, she turned and waddled back toward the front of the ship.

  Sarudeero went from passenger to passenger, getting the Zvezda operatives strapped in to their crash seats and making adjustments to make sure they were well secured. Asher’s straps didn’t need any adjustment. “If anything needed, please uplink to ship internal com,” said the little Cythran. “I go now to check cargo.” He waddled back out into the larger bay.