The streets of Zarnek were dark and deserted. Jak had passed Xanthy Court and was walking on Belm Street before he realized none of the streetlights were on. Stopping in the middle of the street, he craned his neck around. Jidal IV had three moons so there was plenty of light but none coming from buildings or houses.
Did everyone in town go to sleep this early?
Something flickered in a window to his left as if someone had moved a curtain. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Jak walked on, his own echoing footsteps sending a tingle through his antennae.
Halzen Court, when he reached it, was a sharp contrast to the stillness of the rest of town. Every light was on, talk and laughter spilled out from each restaurant carried along on a choking wave of clashing aromas. Yet here too, somewhere between the light and laughter, Jak felt something dark and angry. He could see it in a group of Sclarians who pushed past him, and felt it in the dark stares of the Jidalians.
Jak felt a rush of security when he saw Co-Lanen’s familiar figure at a window table in a Raman diner. Then his heart bumped up its beat as he paused just outside to watch her.
She looked more beautiful than she had just that morning. She had changed her hair style from the business-like bun to a complicated series of intricate braids with soft curls framing her face. With her face in profile he could trace the perfect symmetry of brow, nose and chin and admire the gold tone of her skin. She had the most delicate antennae he had ever seen. He well remembered the smooth, warm touch of them.
Jak jumped when Lanen leaned over and rapped on the window at him. She motioned to him and he entered the restaurant. The place was lavishly decorated unlike the usual Raman sense of ascetics. He judged the owner was probably not Raman and the food was probably not authentic.
Co-lanen must have noticed him looking around and reassured him, “The owner isn’t Raman but the food is absolutely first rate.”
Sliding into the seat opposite her, Jak waved an antennae. “I didn’t know you liked Raman cuisine.”
“You don’t know a lot about me.” Co-Lanen’s voice was dry. “I took the liberty of ordering for both of us,” she added, giving a high sign to someone behind Jak.
Jak unfolded his napkin, dropping his silverware on the table with a loud clatter. Without looking at Lanen, he straightened them then spread his napkin in such a way that it covered a good deal of the dirt on his uniform. It looked dumb with three-fourths of it on his stomach instead of his lap but it was effective. When he finally glanced up, he saw she was smiling. “What?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you so...so un-self-assured,” she replied.
“You’re not exactly making this easy,” Jak said. “We agreed to be friends but every time I’ve seen you in the past few years you’ve acted like...” he paused, searching for a word but every one he could think of would hardly put him in her favor. “So official,” he finished finally.
“I have to do my job without any favoritism. I am not a Councilor.”
“Yet,” Jak finished for her then grinned. “But do you know you’re beautiful when you’re being official?” As she blushed, he reached for her hand. He was beginning to remember how to snap her out of her primness.
Co-Lanen tugged at her hand but he held on and she didn’t struggle too hard. She opened her mouth to say something but their waiter arrived with a large tray that was almost too big for the anti-gravity unit holding it. It teetered slightly but the waiter quietly and quickly passed out the cold, frosted-over metal bowls, already starting to sweat on the outside with the change in temperature.
When the waiter left, Co-Lanen pressed both palms flat against the table and bent both antennae forward 45 degrees. Jak did the same. With smooth, precise movements that Jak enjoyed watching, Co-Lanen picked up the bowl with the main course in it and held it out to him. Jak took one piece, broke it in half, ate his portion and carefully placed the other on Co-Lanen’s plate. He straightened both antennae. Then Co-Lanen, still with intricate movements, filled both their plates. When she was finished, she again placed her palms flat on the table then straightened her antennae.
Jak was glad she had chosen only the eight minute Kan-line blessing. “You were right,” he said with his mouth full, his chin tipped up just a bit so the juice wouldn’t run out. “I don’t think I’ve had better food on Rama itself. I’ve always wondered why such an aggressive race is vegetarian.”
Twenty minutes passed with very little conversation as the mounds of food disappeared. When both were finished and sipping fizzy, peach-like drinks, Jak reached for Co-Lanen’s hand again but this time she eluded him.
“Ja-ka-thon, we need to talk seriously. I didn’t pick this place just for the food. I know we won’t be overheard here.” As if to belie her own words, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “What did you think of the meeting this morning?”
“I’m not sure what to think. I did find out something today.”
“What is it?”
“There’s this Kosapi named Althan Tahk.”
“A Kosapi?” Co-Lanen interrupted. “Are you sure? No one by that name has registered with my office.”
“I doubt that he would.” Jak took a drink then continued. “He’s been on the station working with Renner Conlin. He’s our chief negotiator.”
“I know Mr. Conlin.”
“Even Aurelia and Millie have been wondering what they’re doing.”
“Those are the two females you work with?”
“Right.” Was there just a hint of jealousy in Co-Lanen’s tone? Jak leaned forward putting his hand just within reach of hers.
Co-Lanen leaned back, putting her hand under her chin. “I suppose they could have legitimate business.”
“The odd thing is, at least this is what Aurelia told me, Tahk has a PEF card.”
“Which is?”
“It’s a, uhmm, well basically it’s a GEM Co. account card. Every employee has one. Tahk has an A card which means he can draw funds from the general account, millions even billions of dollars.”
Co-Lanen’s antennae twitched. “Now I am interested. What else do you know about him?”
“I saw him this morning, here, talking to a Sclarian.” Jak paused as the waiter refilled their glasses.
“A Sclarian? Do you have any idea of the tension building around here?”
“I got some idea walking over here.”
“We had an incident not two hours ago. A gang of Sclarians smashed up one of our stores.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No, but Dulan Minal is threatening to evict us.”
“He does that and this whole planet’s economy will go to Gedden.”
“Maybe but I’m not so sure we can avoid a catastrophe.” Co-Lanen raised her glass to her lips and took a long drink.
Jak tapped his fingers on the table. Co-Lanen was not the doom and gloom sort so if she was worried there was something to be worried about. Leaning forward again, he asked, “Did you get the final engineering report on the dikes?”
Co-Lanen nodded. “No mechanical failure. The engineers were angry and I am sure they have contributed to the hostility toward the Sclarians.”
“Everyone seems to think everyone else has this secret weapon.”
“I can’t figure it out. There were no sub-ion emissions found either.”
“There has to be something. When I saw Tahk and that Sclarian this morning they were talking about a weapon. Tahk said something about the humans wanting it.”
“The humans are involved with this too?”
Jak shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. Conlin maybe. But let me finish. I followed the Sclarian to a house. It was an address, uh,” Jak paused, thinking. “On Olgdon Court. I looked it up later. It belongs to a human named Robert Miller.”
Both of Co-Lanen’s antennae twitched.
“What?” Jak asked.
“I’ve been watching Miller. He has some very questionable dealings.” Co-Lanen looked around the room though there were only two other patrons in the restaurant. “Three months ago some weapons grade loron was stolen from a Kaprinian company called Axon.”
“Miller stole it?”
“Miller received it. He would not have been able to bypass all the DNA security locks.” Co-Lanen’s voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve traced ownership of Axon to one of the councilors. I just can’t find out which one.”
“A councilor?” Jak hissed. “You’re telling me a councilor is behind this?”
Co-Lanen nodded, not looking at all happy.
“You better stop right now, Lanen.” Accusing a councilor of wrongdoing could be disastrous not only for her career but for herself and her family.
“I can’t stop. Especially now you’ve told me the humans are involved too. Jak, I feel like I peeked under a pebble and found a gaping hole.”
Jak swallowed the last drop of his drink down hard. Suddenly sitting across from him was the Co-Lanen he remembered. The warm, passionate crusader, not the cool official intent on her career. Certainly not the polite stranger who had informed him that she would not reach Zannath with him and walked out of his life.
“You will help me, Jak?”
“Of course.” He reached for her hand again but she pulled it back.
“Jak, my asking you for help does not mean that...anything.”
“Sorry, I thought...”
“Don’t you remember why we said goodbye?”
Jak straightened both antennae. Stomach churning, he rose to his feet. “Oh I remember. You have to carry on a line and mine dies with me.
His laugh was bitter. “I’m a failed genetic experiment. You know, my grandmother is one of the most wonderful people I know, but there are times when I hate her. Good night, Co-lanen.” He turned and brushed past a party of Ramans who were just entering the restaurant.
Outside, darkness had fallen and the night had turned cold. Jak shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped into the street. He passed his hand across his eyes and kept walking, taking the opposite direction from camp.
Steve Miller yawned. He was tired and sore but not yet ready to sleep. Looking around camp, he shook his head. Bridget O’Connor and the other geedos were building a campfire. Next thing they’d all be singing songs. He tugged on his boots and headed for town.
Olgdon Court held a number of wealthy homes far removed from the flood. The Millers’ house was a low, yellow pre-fab at the far end. Steve and his father had moved to Jidal IV after the death of Mrs. Miller when Steve was twelve. Robert Miller had no employment but plenty of ready money and knew everyone worth knowing on the planet. Steve had never asked for many details about his father’s activities; he was sure he didn’t want to know about most of them.
As he walked to the gate of the house, Steve glanced around. A lot more security had been added since the last time he had been home, including what he thought was a pressure-sensitive rafter array on the fence. With a low whistle, he pressed in his code on the gate computer. As he suspected, it had been changed but a retina scanner checked him and the lock clicked open.
Robert Miller met his son at the door with a hearty handshake. “Come on in, son. I expected you sooner.”
“The chief surgeon is a first class Cygnian colo,” Steve replied as he bent down to slip off his muddy boots in the green-tiled hallway.
“Whoa! Better watch your language. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
Facing his father, Steve asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble, Dad? I noticed all the extra security.”
“Just being cautious.” They stepped down into the sunken living room. Every piece of furniture was designed for comfort--thick cushions and wide seats on the two couches and three armchairs. The light maroon carpeting was made out of Durangian fur in which feet sank up to the ankles. Most of the wall decorations had to do with hunting and led the eye to the huge fireplace over which proudly hung a pair of 30-point antlers from a Matian Mohan.
Scooping up a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl on the coffee-table, Steve plopped down lengthwise on the couch nearest the fireplace. “She’s been working us like dogs.”
He watched his father pace the floor. He remembered the last time he had seen his dad like this was just before Robert had been taken to prison for three months for being an accessory to a diamond theft. Of course, he finally convinced the authorities that it had merely been a business transaction on his part and he had known nothing about the diamonds. But Steve wasn’t so sure.
“Actually, there is a bit of trouble on the planet,” Robert said. Sitting on the arm of a chair, he drummed his fingers against his knee. “I’ve been working with the Sclarian Coalition on some business arrangements. As you know the dikes failed and we suspect the Kaprinians were testing some kind of secret weapon that got out of hand. Some in the Coalition think it may even have been deliberate because some very valuable equipment was damaged in the flood, but the Kaprinians lost a lot too, so I think it was an accident.”
“But what would the Kaprinians be doing with a secret weapon?” Steve asked.
“My partners have their own ideas but I’m guessing they’ve got a buyer with plenty of cash. The people on this planet are always looking for funds for their pet projects.”
Steve sat up and brushed the heavy blonde hair back from his forehead. He watched his father for a moment then asked, “Okay, what’s it really about?”
“Now, son. Don’t you trust your old Dad?” Robert grinned then paused as his son did not reply. Running his fingers through his short-cropped hair, he finally shook his head, “I’ve got a hell of a mess here. I borrowed some money from my partners, okay a lot of money, to buy into a project for improving rind-wheat production. But I, well, I bought some weapons grade loron from a guy I know instead.”
“What in the world for?”
Robert’s eyes brightened, “That’s the best part. There’s an engineer here who’s come up with a hyperspace drive that can work within a gravity well. But it’s got a couple bugs--I’ll get to that in a minute. Somebody else heard I had the loron and thought I was building a weapon and wanted in on the action. So what the hell, I didn’t disillusion ‘em and sucked ‘em for all they were worth or at least as much as I could get.”
“Dad, I don’t think I want to hear anymore,” Steve interrupted.
“Don’t get high and mighty with me, son. You wouldn’t be in that expensive medical school without me, boy. Now shut up and listen.” He got up and began pacing the floor. “Anyway, I’ve also got a buyer for the hyperspace drive. He’s been getting real antsy so we decided to test the thing. And kaplooey the dikes went out. So shit we’ve got a damn flood and the damn engineer gets scared and hightails it out of here with the drive!” His laugh sounded more hysterical than humorous.
Steve shook his head and ate more grapes.
“And here I am with one group waiting for a weapon, the other expecting his drive and my partners are breathing down my neck about the money. Added to that some Kaprinian female from the Councilors’ office has been tailing me for weeks. I don’t have the drive, I don’t have the weapon, and I sure as hell don’t have the money.”
“Sounds like you should skip out like the engineer did.” Steve suggested.
“No. No, I want that drive. This guy is smart enough to work the bugs out and that thing will set me up for life. I’m pretty sure he’s still on the planet. I just gotta find him before everybody else finds me.”
Steve shifted his position on the couch. “What does Renner Conlin have to do with all this?”
“Renner Conlin?”
“Yeah. Remember you asked me about him? On the station?”
“Oh, yeah,” Robert ruffled his hair again. “He’s the guy who’s expecting a weapon.”
“You’re kidding? What does he want with a weapon?”
“Beats me. Anyway he’s not getting one.” Robert glanced at his watch. “Hey, let’s forget the heavy stuff and have some dinner. I’ll cook you some of my mojaji. Better than the Kaprinians make it.”
Following his father to the kitchen, Steve shook his head. If he lived to be a hundred he would never understand this man. The guy had the place buttoned up tighter than an underground bunker with who knew what type of people after him and here he was cooking up mojaji and whistling cheerfully. He leaned against the oak island in the middle and talked about school and the internship program while Robert worked.
“You know,” said Robert, sliding a pan of water and seaweed onto the shining white cooking range, “I met your lady doctor a few years ago at a conference. She ain’t bad to look at.”
“But hell to work with,” Steve replied, passing over a bowl for the seaweed as the stove beeped to indicate it was done. He reached for a spoon and dropped it when the lights went out.
“What the...Dad!? “ He felt a hand grip his shoulder from behind and swung out with his fist. “Hey, let go!” Pain shot up his arm like a spreading fire. “Oh, shit.” He buckled to his knees. “Dad! Where are you?”
“Shutup.” The voice was cold and sharp and slightly familiar. Steve moved his head and more pain went up his arm.
Robert moaned somewhere to his right then another voice, like the hiss of a serpent spoke.
“Where is the weapon?” It asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” came Robert’s reply.
Steve heard a thud and winced as his father cried out. He wanted to fight but the hold of his attacker felt like a red hot sleeve of iron around his arm. What happened to the security? Shit! we’re gonna die. He blinked away the sweat rolling into his eyes.
“All right. All right,” Robert spoke again, his voice cracking. “Look I don’t know where it is. Ow! Honest. The guy took off after the dikes went out. I’ve been looking for him myself. Believe me I don’t know any more.”
Silence. Steve counted his father’s breaths. He had stopped breathing himself.
“Search the house,” the serpent voice said. A soft click then a thud.
“Dad!” The pain jumped from his arm to his head and he fell forward into a dark pool.