Close Encounters

First, for my daughter, Amy, who encouraged me
to finish this novel by shoveling on the guilt.
Second, for Gina Ardito, who told me so.
Also, for Jeannette and Martin Ward, who made
up the loudest section in my cheering squad.
And, of course, for Shelby Reed, critique partner
extraordinaire, who always listens when I need
to whine about the rough spots or life in general.

Last, but not least, this is for Larry,
because he waited five years to pour our front
sidewalk and then chose to do it on a day
when the temperature was below freezing.

A
rms locked into position, grip tight on the flexisteel rod, I swung into a perfect handstand and poised for a split second, my body a curve in the air. Before gravity could kick in, I jackknifed, reversed my grip on the fly, and let the force of my body hitting the lower bar carry me into a tuck-and-roll somersault, my hands grasping the upper bar on the way down.

I’d watched holovids of the old Olympics, and it always amazed me how well natural humans did on the uneven bars. Too bad the games had died out with the advent of Genetically Engineered Persons. But anything a Natural could do, a GEP could do better and faster. I guess it made the games seem rather pointless.

It had also caused a lot of hard feelings and no small amount of prejudice toward GEPs in the beginning. Theoretically, all that changed when the Galactic Federation Council passed the Equality Edict, but in reality, no law can do away with bigotry. It just goes into hiding.

I know because I’ve been on the receiving end of some Naturals’ intolerance. Not only am I a blonde bombshell, I’m also one of the luckiest GEPs ever made. My creation was commissioned by the Bureau of Alien Affairs, and my boss, Dr. Jordan Daniels, is a real sweetheart of a Natural. Not only is he an expert at untying the knots of red tape that governments create, he always treats me like a lady.

It’s at his insistence that I record the following events in my own words, for posterity, and so historians will have the facts straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, above and beyond what the official records show. Unfortunately for him, I’m more of a doer than a writer.

The upper bar twanged as I released it and made a two-point landing on the floor mat, arms extended. “How was that?”

From his position on the weight table, Crigo sneered, and then went back to licking his paws.

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try it.”

He ignored me, of course. We both knew his lack of opposable thumbs would severely hinder his chances of gripping the bar.

Crigo’s a rock cat, so called because his kind inhabits the rocky hills of his home planet. He’s been with me since my assignment in the Alpha sector several cycles ago. I’ve never understood why he decided to come along when I left his world, since our relationship is, at best, an uneasy one. It goes something like this: if I promise not to compromise his dignity by petting him, he promises not to rip my arm off at the elbow. No mild threat, that, since he weighs more than I do and reaches the middle of my thigh in height.

In return for the food he consumes while we’re on board Max, my ship, he keeps me humble by following me around, making derogatory feline comments about everything I do, and turning his back when I talk to him. But he’s living, breathing company, so I put up with him.

Besides, he’s gorgeous, a fact of which he’s well aware. His coat is russet colored with black stripes zigzagging down his sides like dark lightning bolts. His eyes are a pale shade of amber that reflects an intelligence unusual in rock cats. Most of them are dumb as posts.

I snagged a towel and headed for the lav, wondering if he’d adopted me because his own species bored him stiff. It was a distinct possibility. Plus, he knows I understand him like no one else can. I’m an empath, an enhancement the boss keeps out of my personnel records, along with a few other things no one needs to know. It’s a talent that comes in handy when one of the big trade companies tries to pull a fast one on the sentient species of a planet they’re interested in exploiting.

That’s my official job. After a new species is located and studied by a team of scientific experts, I go in and make sure they know their rights according to the Equality Edict. I also help them negotiate deals for marketing their resources with the independent trade companies. If the culture is too primitive to understand their rights, I have two options. Taking the scientific reports into consideration and weighing them against my own observations, I can either ask the bureau to set up a protectorate, or I can close the planet to all further commerce until such time as the bureau deems the race capable of handling its own affairs.

It’s also my job to root out breaches of the edict and bring the trade companies involved to justice. So, because of me, more than a few have lost their privilege licenses and had their ships impounded, and some owners have even ended up on Inferno, the prison planet.

Or worse.

Needless to say, I’m not the independent companies’ favorite person. Occasionally, one of them will get ambitious and put a hit out on me.
Not
the way to get on my good side, as I really
hate
disposing of bodies. Too messy for my tastes, not to mention time consuming.

On the bright side, I promised Crigo he could have the next assassin who comes along. He does
love
new toys.

Thanks to the boss, Max was currently parked dirt side on a small tropical planet with a low population density and lots of sunshine. Dr. Daniels had insisted I take a vacation after my last job, in spite of my protest. So we had a tiny island all to ourselves, with gentle surf, white sand, and lots of weird ocean life for Crigo to pile at Max’s entry hatch. We also had tons of fresh water in the form of a mist-shrouded waterfall spilling into a pool near where we were parked.

After two weeks of enforced idleness, I had a great tan, gorgeous white streaks in my light blonde hair, and sand in places I didn’t like to think about. Good thing all that fresh water was handy. Showering three times a day can drain a ship’s tank real fast, even with recycling.

I was going stir-crazy, and even Crigo was looking a little desperate as each new ocean wave swept in a fresh batch of crawly things. A rock cat can only do so much hunting and pouncing, and he’d reached his limit a week ago. As a result, I spent four hours a day exercising in Max’s gym instead of my usual two. It kept Crigo and me from killing each other.

The hot water felt good, so I stayed in the shower longer than usual after my workout on the uneven bars. I was almost asleep on my feet when the water suddenly turned icy cold.

“Max!” With an indignant yelp, I scrambled to exit the shower. “What in the thirteen hells did you do that for?”

“To wake you up.” The computer voice was male, smooth and mellow. “Dr. Daniels wants to speak with you.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” I grabbed my emergency robe and shoved my arms into the sleeves. Having been raised in the crèche, nudity didn’t bother me, but I knew Naturals were funny about things like that, and I didn’t want to embarrass the boss.

“Transfer the call in here, will you, Max?” I stepped into the exercise room and belted my robe while the boss materialized in front of me. Even Crigo sat up and paid attention. He knew authority when he saw it.

“Kiera, my dear, I didn’t intend to interrupt your shower. Max should have waited.”

“Max knows I would have dismantled him chip by chip if he had.” Hope for a reprieve from my boring vacation bubbled inside me as I pushed a lock of wet hair away from my face. “What’s up?”

“As much as it grieves me to cut your vacation short, I have an assignment only my best agent can handle.”

Boss was a nice-looking man, even at his advanced age, tall and well built, with silver hair that gave him a distinguished appearance. If he weren’t happily married with a dozen or so grandkids, I’d be tempted to jump him. But being an old-fashioned gentleman, he’d no doubt be horrified at my lascivious thoughts, so I respectfully kept them to myself. I tried to let my expression mirror his, a trick GEPs learn early in life. We may not completely understand the taboos and cultural norms of Naturals, but we’re damn good actors. Most of the time. “Cool.” I couldn’t hide my grin.

“Cool?” His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “If you’re chilly this can wait until you’re dressed.”

“No, no, I’m fine.
Cool
is slang for ‘excellent.’ It’s an Old Earth term.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the edge of his desk with a sigh. “Sometimes I think you watch entirely too many old vids. It’s as if you’re speaking another language entirely. As I was saying, a company is invoking Chapter Twenty of the edict.”

My eyebrow arched in surprise. I’d been working for Alien Affairs since I was thirteen cycles, and I’d never heard of a company invoking that particular clause before. In short, it allowed a company to stake a claim to full ownership of a planet if the sentient, indigenous species would die out in a period of no more than one hundred cycles.

A shiver ran over me from the air brushing my wet skin. “Which company?”

“Dynatec.”

Woo boy. Dynatec was the largest of the independent trade companies, with fingers in everything from mining to power supply. Rumor had it that they were even into drug smuggling, but no one had proved it yet. I’d been frothing at the mouth to get something on them for cycles.

I parked my butt on the weight bench, ignoring Crigo’s growl of warning when I pushed him to one side. Naturals usually can’t tell what I’m thinking, but the boss could read me well enough to make me uncomfortable.

His lips curved slightly. “My sentiments, exactly. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Kiera. They’re being too damned cooperative. They’ve even requested an agent be sent as soon as possible to ‘expedite’ the matter.” He paused. “Their word, not mine.”

“Oh, yeah. There’s something going on all right.” I nodded agreement. “Companies usually turn themselves wrong side out to keep us away from a new species as long as possible. Do we have any details on the aliens?”

“Sketchy ones, at best. I’ve already downloaded what we know to Max’s files. According to Dynatec’s report, the native population includes less than seventy members, with an extremely low birthrate. If their reports are correct, there’s only been one live birth since the original exploration team discovered the planet ten cycles ago.”

“That’s bad.”

“Yes, it is. I know you aren’t usually the one to make first contact, but we have no choice. Thanks to an unforeseen loophole left by lawmakers, under the provisions of Chapter Twenty, you only have two months to render a decision. There isn’t time for a full scientific team to investigate. So part of your job will be to find out why they aren’t having children and see if there’s anything we can do to reverse their decline.”

I nodded, thinking rapidly. “Dynatec obviously doesn’t want our scientists on site. They must be awfully sure one lone agent won’t have the time or resources to find anything that will negate their claim.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened. “That’s what worries me. Be careful, Kiera. You’ll be alone with the Dynatec crew members, all of whom have a stake in any profits the company might make from Orpheus Two.”

I stood and saluted. “Yes, sir. You can count on me. Besides,” I chuckled. “Max will have all the relevant information we uncover. He’ll send it as we find it, even if they hold me hostage.”

“Make sure the Dynatec crew knows that, too.” He dipped his head and the hologram vanished.

“Max?”

“I have the jump plotted out, Kiera.”

“How long—”

“Three days, sixteen hours, and twenty-four minutes. That’s if we stop off at the ZT Twelve station for supplies, which I highly recommend if you’d like to continue eating civilized food in the future.”

“Smart-ass computer,” I mumbled, heading for the front of the ship.

The hop to ZT Twelve, a bustling hub of commerce that served as a way station for this sector of the universe, took approximately three hours. Normally Max and I use space time to immerse ourselves in Old Earth vids from the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. We were both addicted to the old movies. Me in particular because almost everything I knew about Naturals I’d learned from the vids. Having been raised in the crèche with other GEPs and then going straight to living on a ship and dealing with alien races, I’d had little opportunity to learn about them in person.

This time, however, I used the hours to wade through info on the Orpheus system, sitting at the command deck near Max’s central brain. Crigo curled himself on an antigrav chair and went to sleep, his snores keeping me company while I worked.

The planet on which Dynatec had filed their claim was the second from the sun, a yellow star similar to Earth’s Sol. If the planet had been in Earth’s system, its orbit would have fallen closer to Earth’s than to Mercury’s. Oddly enough, there was no tilt to its axis, which meant it would have one season all cycle long. Combine an average temperature of thirty-five degrees Celsius with a relative humidity of 88 percent, and what you got was hot and wet.

No polar ice caps, I mused as I scrolled down the reports that appeared in front of me, and no oceans. But there were hundreds of freshwater lakes, big and small, dotting the surface of the planet. Lots of mountainous regions, but mostly jungle, interspersed with plains near the lakes. And according to the reports, it had an Earth-normal atmosphere.

“Holo?” I questioned Max.

An image popped up that took my breath away. Orpheus Two hung in the black vastness of space like a glowing emerald, the bigger lakes giving it a sheen that made it appear polished. Wisps of silvery-white clouds circled it like gossamer strands of spider silk, enhancing rather than hiding its beauty. It was escorted on its travels by one medium-sized moon.

If Dynatec’s claim was legitimate, they could make a fortune off selling colonization chits alone. One look at this holo, and half the galaxy would stampede the Orpheus system. Habitable planets were a dime a dozen, but the Galactic Federation Council used the term
habitable
loosely. If it had breathable air and some form of drinkable water, it was deemed fit for occupation. The majority of them were harsh, deadly places where life hung on by the old tooth-and-nail method of survival.

Unless Dynatec had failed to mention some nasty surprises with the flora and fauna, Orpheus Two looked to be a habitable paradise by comparison. Plus, since it was earth normal, I could expect the Dynatec crew to be comprised of humans. Why spend big bucks paying for a gas-breathing alien’s special equipment when you don’t have to?