The aircraft was one of a small
fleet of sub-orbital scramjets that shuttled supplies and replacement crews out
to a network of isolated bases supporting Icetop’s fishing fleet. Like the
spaceport and Tundratown, the transport smelled of fish, not surprising
considering sea creatures were the lifeblood of the colony. One hundred and
thirty five years ago, seed populations of phytoplankton and Atlantic Cod had
been released into the ocean. Both were naturally adapted to arctic waters, but
some genetic reengineering on Earth had perfectly aligned that adaptation to
Icetop’s biochemistry. Within a few decades, the oceans had filled with the
Earth transplanted life forms and commercial fishing had begun. The only effect
on the indigenous aquatic species was to see their numbers increase
dramatically as they acquired a taste for Earth-plankton. In particular, a
large, slow moving creature that floated with the planet’s ocean currents had
begun to multiply to the point where it was constantly caught in the cod nets.
The fishermen called them drift-whales, although they were neither air
breathers nor mammals. Fortunately for Icetop’s economy, their body chemistry
allowed them to be processed into a thick oil suitable for combustion heating,
although their meat was inedible.
The scramjet seated fifty and was
fitted with small windows allowing us to see the ragged ice sheet to the south
and the large icebergs that had broken free and were drifting towards the equatorial
current. Occasionally the wakes of large factory ships could be seen dragging nets
which scoured the oceans for cod and drift-whales. After several hours, the
vast ice sheet to the south gave way to snow capped mountains and the dark
plume of a distant volcano belching gas into the atmosphere.
Soon after the volcanic cloud fell behind us, the
transport nosed down and began gliding on short delta wings towards a chain of jagged
rock spires that rose from the cold, choppy seas like widely separated black
spears. Watching the icy dark blue water below, I realized how underdressed
Jase and I were in our thermal suits. The fishermen were all clad in yellow
self-sealing flotation suits, enough to keep them alive even if they were swept
into the sea. By contrast, our suits could withstand the arctic winds, but if
we hit the freezing water, we’d be dead in thirty seconds.
The transport leveled off and
flew along the scattered line of black needles. Waves crashed against their
bases, throwing up clouds of white foam that were instantly whipped away by the
wind, while their tips were lost in low hanging cloud hundreds of meters above
the ocean. Most spires had landing platforms high above sea level, protruding
from caverns carved out of the rock. After we’d passed more than twenty spires,
the transport banked sharply, lowered its landing gear and threw itself
recklessly onto a landing platform. The magnetized platform grabbed the
scramjet’s landing skis before the wind could hurl us into the sea, then a
series of slender metal poles rose from the edge of the platform and began generating
an invisible pressure wall around the landing pad, shielding the scramjet from
the worst of the wind.
When the hatch cracked open,
freezing sea air flooded into the cabin as the fishermen quickly filed out. We
followed them across the partially exposed platform towards the shelter of the
hanger inside the rock, surprised by the severity of the wind whipping over the
top of the pressure wall.
Jase peered out at the rolling
sea, dotted with icebergs and wind driven white caps. “Why would anyone want to
live here?” he yelled over the whine of the wind.
“Do you know how much real cod
sells for on Earth these days?” I yelled back, eager to get inside. Protected
by the pressure wall, the wind wasn’t strong enough to blow me into the sea, nevertheless
my aversion to water made me feel uncomfortably exposed.
Jase gave me that sharp, hungry
look he always got when he smelled money. “How much?”
“Enough to make good people sign
five year contracts.” When interest momentarily flashed across his face, I
asked, “Thinking of changing careers?”
He glanced at the bleak, windswept
sea and shook his head. “Not a chance!”
At the hanger’s entrance we passed
through another pressure field, this time into warm air where the scream of the
wind was muted to a distant howl. A large metal door hung suspended above us,
ready to roll down to shield the chamber if the winds grew too strong for the
pressure field. Parked inside the hanger were three small utility aircraft used
to ferry replacement crews and supplies out to the factory ships and link the
isolated spire communities together. The hanger wasn’t large enough to bring
the heavy scramjet inside, which was already receiving passengers for the
return trip to the mainland. The outbound men and women had completed their three
month tours at sea and were returning to Tundratown for some hard earned rest.
Below the hanger, the spire was
honeycombed with storage facilities, workshops, a small hospital and
accommodation for the hundred people who operated the base. Due to the ferocity
of the rolling seas surrounding the Devil’s Teeth, there were no docking
facilities for the fishing fleet. Everything and everyone had to be moved by
air.
Mukul Sarat emerged from the back
of the hanger wearing a more expensive version of the flotation suits the
fishermen wore, suggesting he was a regular visitor to this barely habitable
planet. “Captain Kade,” Sarat said as he approached, “welcome to Icetop.”
We shook hands, but our gloves
prevented my threading getting direct physical contact for a DNA scan. Just as when
he’d visited me in my stateroom, my threading registered nothing about him.
Whatever he was carrying completely neutralized my bionetics, but for him only.
I was still getting hits on everyone else in sight. Hiding my irritation at
being out-
teched
, I said, “This is Jase Logan, my copilot.”
Sarat gave Jase a surprised look,
confirming my suspicion he’d expected me to leave Jase in Hades City. Accepting
the unavoidable, Sarat extended his hand. “Welcome.”
“We’ve met,” Jase said, refusing
to accept Sarat’s outstretched hand. “Don’t you remember?”
Sarat withdrew his hand slowly,
glancing warily at me. “Do we have a problem, Captain Kade?”
I threw Jase a warning look. “No,
no problem.”
Sarat studied Jase uncertainly,
then motioned to the elevator. “This way.”
The lift took us up through the
center of the spire to a surprisingly spacious penthouse. We stepped out into a
large lounge area flanked by three floor-to-ceiling windows shielded by
pressure fields and equipped with deployable metal shutters. The sprawling room
was decorated with replica tribal ornaments and deeply padded chairs covered in
tanned drift-whale hide, while the view out over the iceberg strewn ocean was
hazy, but spectacular.
“This penthouse belongs to the owner
of one of the largest fishing fleets on Icetop,” Sarat explained as we took in
the view. “I’ve rented it from him for this occasion.”
“I guess fishing does pay,” Jase observed
as a solid looking individual with a military style haircut approached us with
a portable scanner.
The guard quickly found our weapons,
but we declined to hand them over.
“Your weapons will be returned to
you, when you leave,” Sarat assured us. “My guards will ensure you are quite
safe.”
“As safe as I was in Hades City?”
Jase asked sharply.
Sarat eyed Jase suspiciously. For
a moment, I thought he was going to have his guard throw Jase out, then Sarat
relaxed. “You are my guest here. In Hades City, you were a potential threat. You
may accept my hospitality – or you may leave.”
“We accept,” I said, handing over
my bulky MAK P-50. When Jase refused to budge, I gave him a sharp look. I knew he’d
rather shoot Sarat than accept his hospitality, but he kept his anger in check
and passed his twin fraggers to the guard.
Everyone relaxed, then Sarat led
us towards one of the corridors that led off from the central lounge. “We’re
only ten meters below the peak of the spire. There’s a lookout up there, but I
wouldn’t recommend it – the winds are strong and very cold at this altitude,
particularly this time of year.”
Sarat showed us into a well
appointed apartment with a single large bed and a drift-whale upholstered sofa.
My threading picked up more than a dozen tiny thermal signatures placed around
the room, devices designed to ensure we had no secrets from our host.
“Unfortunately,” Sarat said,
indicating the solitary bed, “I was expecting only one of you.”
“We’re not planning on staying
long,” I said.
“You’ll be here for two days. It
will take that long to complete the bidding process.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Seems
a long process for an auction.”
“It’s the seller’s custom.”
“You’re not the seller?”
“I’m just the middle man.”
“Who’s the seller?”
“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Sarat
said as he stepped towards the door. “Introductions and the first round will
commence after lunch.”
Sarat withdrew, closing the door
behind him. Jase immediately turned to me, “Skipper, before you say anything,
that bastard murdered two girls! My friends! And drugged the hell out of me!”
“I know.”
“I’m going to
frag
him into little pieces!”
“No, you’re not! We’re here to get
whatever he’s selling – and leave. Forget your vendetta now, or I’ll put you on
the first transport back to the spaceport myself.”
Jase’s jaw tightened as he fought
to contain his anger. He wasn’t to know my words were for the listening devices
eavesdropping on our conversation, and to reassure Sarat, who was almost
certainly watching us.
“Promise me, you’ll let me at
him,” Jase demanded, “when this is over.”
“No. I have a deal with Sarat and
you’re going to honor it.” Right up until I put a slug in Sarat’s head myself,
not just for the two girls, but also for the two EIS agents he’d killed.
“Damn, what’s got into you,
Skipper?”
“This is a big deal for us,” I
said, speaking to Sarat’s snoopers again. “If you want to be in on it, you play
by my rules – and by Sarat’s rules.”
Jase was ready to explode, but he
started to believe I actually meant it. Slowly he cooled. “OK, Skipper.”
“Good. Be on your best behavior
and we’ll get out of here and collect the biggest payoff of our lives,” I said,
silently increasing my fee to Lena, purely for Jase’s sake.
Sarat would now believe he
understood me, that I was all about the money and therefore predictable.
Revenge was a luxury this mission couldn’t afford – at least not yet – although
in time, I intended to complete both, then Jase would understand.
* * * *
We had cod for lunch, served in our room,
then a burly guard in a dinner jacket led us to a rectangular audience chamber
with a long pressure field covered window running the length of one wall. A
factory ship was visible two clicks out, holding position as small aircraft
took turns delivering fresh crew and supplies. The other walls were polished
rock, decorated with images of frozen landscapes and drift-whale bones, while
the rock floor had been carved to appear as if it was covered in slate tiles –
a useless but expensive embellishment. At the far end of the room, circular
metal plates lay flush to the floor and ceiling, emitters for a high fidelity
holo communicator.
Sarat was waiting in the meeting
hall with Marie, Vargis and three others I didn’t recognize. Marie was surprised
to see me, while Vargis barely acknowledged my existence. I gave Marie a sly smile,
leaving her in no doubt I’d expected to see her here. It was our little game,
who could outsmart who, and I might as well let her think I’d known what she
was up to all along. It had been that way ever since we’d met two years ago on
Galis
, when she’d sweet talked a hydroponics dealer into
cancelling my contract and giving it to her. I don’t think she really cared
about the contract, just beating me, which was more about personal chemistry
than interstellar trade.
The three others with Sarat gave
me appraising looks, assessing how big a threat I posed. I DNA locked them all,
but only one, a tall cutthroat of east African descent named Gwandoya was
wanted. He wore brightly colored silks, tightly braided shoulder length hair
and a full beard threaded with colored jewels. He was in mankind’s top one
hundred most wanted, criminal royalty with a bloodthirsty record that would
normally have obliged me to ensure he didn’t leave here alive. The other two
were clean skins; a small Chinese man and a tall Union business type. Both wore
tailored suits and looked as if they belonged in board rooms rather than in the
company of cold blooded killers like Gwandoya.
We exchanged polite nods then I caught
Vargis’ eye. “Did you find someone to do that Zen Tau run?”
Vargis looked dismissively down
his nose at me. “You’ll wish you’d taken my offer by the time this is over.”
“Yeah, that was the chance of a
lifetime,” I replied sourly, then turned to Marie. “I really couldn’t let you
go skiing all by yourself,” I said, reminding her I’d seen her looking for
Icetop contracts at the Hades City Exchange.