The Lazarus Particle (29 page)

“You feel the answer is before us presently?”

“I feel the answer will come to us presently.”

“A risky ploy.”

“You cannot plan for all things, my Zj. You of anyone should have confronted that truth long ago.”

Ndeeldavono had to admit, there was wisdom in his words. There were certain eventualities one could plan for and those one could not. There was simply no telling when one might contract an exceptionally virulent strain of glandular rot. No telling when a stagnant front might explode, annihilating an entire Clan in the crossfire. No telling when a raging fool might fail to account for a pitiable perimeter defense force, exposing his flagship’s backside and allowing them to turn a gloriously tooled instrument of war into little more than a drifting heap of scrap the rest of his fleet must guard with their very lives.

“As you say, then. We shall wait for the answer to come to us.”

“Do you feel well enough to return to the command module, my Zj?”

“We believe we do,” he nodded. “We believe we do.”

Repairs continued on schedule. Sensors remained dark. Tensions ran high.

There was no way to diffuse or vent it, no way to bottle it up for release later. Even as seconds turned minutes turned hours ticked by uneventfully, they had no choice but to maintain a state of the utmost readiness.

Yet when at last the answer came, it came in most unexpected form.

“Zj Soliorana?” It was the communications officer. “We’re receiving an unusual transmission.”

“Unusual? In what sense?”

“The sender is going to great pains to mask the source as well as make certain no one else can listen in or jam the signal. High-level encryption, signal cloaking, cascading redundancies, multiple reroutes and bounce-backs…”

Zj Soliorana glanced meaningfully at his second. Lj Rejvollori nodded. Stepping to the front of the command module, he composed himself most impressively. “Begin transmission,” he said.

The larger than life visage that lit the hub at the fore of the command module grinned broadly. From his too-bright, gilt-edged teeth to the various obvious facial augmentations to those roving, lustfully appraising eyes, the man was a living caricature of wealth and acquisitiveness verging on the obscene.

“This is Lj Rejvollori of the Clan Ndeeldavono of the Tyroshi Clanocratic Syndicate. Identify yourself and state the nature of your business.”

“Ahh, most noble and honorable Lj!” the man said in a surprisingly high alto. “Ptsvy is humbled beyond comprehension to be speaking with you, so great is the reputation of Clan Ndeeldavono.”

“I stand flattered on behalf of my clan, I am sure. State your business.”

“Ah, yes, of course, of course. Ptsvy seeks an audience with your most high and venerated Zj Soliorana.”

“I assure you I speak for the Zj on all matters. You may feel confident in my representation of his interests. Now, if you please,” Lj Rejvollori prompted.

“Very well, my Lj. As you say.” The man calling himself Ptsvy drew himself up, affecting a serious demeanor. “If you would allow Ptsvy a chance to more fully introduce himself, it is true that he is a procurer and consigner of certain commodities. He is not without some considerable standing within his community, and attracts all manner of clientele…”

“You traffic in weapons and armament, yes, understood. To the point, if you will.”

“Yes, of course. Very well. Recently Ptsvy met with a client with whom he has done business for many years. Not once has this client given Ptsvy cause to doubt the man’s word or integrity.” Ptsvy’s eyes darkened, his thin, carefully manicured eyebrows drawing down upon them. “This man betrayed Ptsvy. Held him and his men hostage, even took his majordomo as collateral! He was returned, but it is a matter of honor.
Principle
,” he hissed. “Ptsvy cannot allow this transgression to go unanswered. Ptsvy is in no position to exact revenge, however, so he proposes an exchange: information as to the whereabouts of said betrayers for the price of, say, ten million bitcreds.”

Lj Rejvollori shook with barely contained rage at the man’s effrontery. “You mean to commission the Ndeeldavono Clan to do your bidding like common mercenaries? Like filthy freebooter scum? And
you
would preach to
me
of honor and principle? You should thank whatever deity you pray to we are currently in no position to—”

“Did Ptsvy fail to mention the betrayers were armed with plasma-based weaponry? Ptsvy believes the technical term is ‘directed plasma charge,’ yes? Very rare, very valuable tech in Ptsvy’s part of the galaxy.”

Silence enveloped the command module as Lj Rejvollori groped for a response to Ptsvy’s claim. Zj Soliorana stepped into frame a moment later, relieving him of the responsibility. “Greetings, Ptsvy. We are Ndeeldavono: Zj Soliorana, at your service.”

“Ptsvy has your attention now, does he?” His eyes remained dark but there was that grin again, unfurling to reveal those gilt-edged teeth literally sparkling behind it. “Yes, he suspected as much.” Chortling softly, he nodded. “Yes, as he said, directed plasma charge technology. One of Ptsvy’s men was killed during the standoff, though that was his own foolish fault. Ptsvy mentions him only to compliment the graceful lethality of the design. It is quite elegant as instruments of war go.”

“Most gracious of you to say, Ptsvy. Although we can claim no personal credit for the design, we of the Tyroshi remain most innured with both its form and function.”

“A truly superior class of weaponry, fit only for the likes of the galaxy’s most celebrated warriors.”

“Again, most gracious of you. Now, as to your proposal…”

“Of course. The terms are simple: the whereabouts of the betrayers in exchange for fifteen million bitcreds.”

Zj Soliorana absorbed the fifty percent markup stoically. Such was the price of doing business with men of Ptsvy’s ilk. Of course, the Zj was not without his own price. He would exact it later. “We shall need more than your word to authorize such an exchange.”

“Of course, of course, my Zj. Ptsvy is sending you a holo feed of the incident taken via surveillance for purposes of verification.”

When the feed arrived moments later, Communications Officer Kalekki raised it to the hub. The footage was clean and crisp, showing a small group of cloaked and cowled figures clustered together while other figures strolled in and out of frame around them. The other figures were dressed similarly, in light armor and fatigues, with weapons they showed only passing interest in. Rifles lolled in their arms or swung idly from their sides. Ptsvy’s guards, no doubt. Whomever the other group was, the guards clearly did not believe they posted a threat.

From the side of the frame, another figure approached the cloaked and cowled visitors. There was an inaudible exchange, the substance of which likely didn’t matter. It was only when the new figure attempted to withdraw himself that the first group threw back their cloaks to reveal the unmistakable profile of the plasma tech in their possession. The feed froze there. The cloaks and cowls were locked in a tight formation, their backs forming a square to one another so as to cover all angles with their bristling, ill-gotten firepower.

“So you see, Ptsvy speaks the truth.”

“So he does. We regret if we implied otherwise.”

“Not at all, not at all.”

“And if we were to inquire how we can be sure you are in possession of these betrayers’ current whereabouts?’”

“You would be entirely within your right,” Ptsvy said. “Despite the aforementioned hostilities, business with the betrayers was concluded normally once Ptsvy’s majordomo was returned unscathed. Prior to delivery, however, Ptsvy directed his men to secret certain, shall we say, ‘free samples’ of the latest in tracking and locating technology within the supplies.”

“Very clever. And the signal?”

“Coming in clearly. Yours upon receipt of payment.”

“Very well. We accept the terms of your proposal.”

“Excellent! Ptsvy will transmit coordinates where we may meet to facilitate the exchange.”

“Be advised that we are currently undergoing engine repairs following a minor engagement with hostile forces. It will be several hours before we are able to rendezvous for an exchange.”

“Duly noted. Ptsvy is not impatient. You are aware, however, that every delay increases the odds the betrayers will discover the embedded tracking devices.”

“A risk we have no choice but to accept. We offer you gratitude and good health, Ptsvy.”

“And to you the same, Zj Soliorana. End transmission.”

The hub went dark. Communications Officer Kalekki confirmed receipt of the coordinates a moment later.

“My Zj,” Lj Rejvollori began. “I did not… if I had known…”

Zj Soliorana dismissed the apology he was stumbling toward with a wave of his hand. “We were every bit as convinced he was a charlatan. No matter. We have our answer, as you predicted. Now all that remains is to get underway.”

“Repairs are nearly complete, my Zj,” came the long awaited report from engineering. “We need only test engine integrity.”

“Excellent! Lj Rejvollori, inform the rest of the fleet. Helmsman, set course for—”

“Contact!” the sensors operator called.

By the time the Zj arrived at the operator’s station, a second contact had appeared. They were only seconds apart, their digital contrails blazing a muted gray behind them. Unknown contacts.

“Attempting to get a fix…” the operator said, then, “damn!” The first contact disappeared too quickly, followed almost immediately by the second, far too fast to identify either.
 

“Scouts,” Lj Rejvollori declared. “They will have scanned our position, no doubt. We have to act now.”

“Agreed. Is the rest of the fleet prepared to jump?”

“Yes, my Zj.”

“Good. Inform engineering there is no time for a test.”

“Multiple contacts! Three Arbiter-class destroyers!”

“Only three?” Lj Rejvollori asked. “You are sure?”

For a moment the sensors operator stared dumbfounded at her screen. “Yes, my Lj, but… they jumped
inside
the fleet’s defensive formation. They’re between us and the rest of the fleet!”

“What?! How is that possible?”

From dumbfounded to alarmed, the transition took mere seconds. “Sensors detect massive radiation levels coming off of all three ships,” she declared sharply. “They are only minutes from going critical mass!”

“Fix firing solutions,” Lj Rejvollori ordered. “
Now
.”

The weapons officer worked his mandibles with obvious frustration. “They have positioned themselves to inflict maximum collateral damage. If any of their ships are destroyed, the resulting explosion and debris cloud will do catastrophic damage on a fleet-wide scale.”

Lj Rejvollori looked incredulously between the sensors operator and the weapons officer. “Well there has to be
something
we can do!”

“Incoming transmission. Audio only.”

Zj Soliorana was about to signal to accept when the sensors operator called out. “My Zj, these readings. Something is off about them.”

“Keep working on it,” Lj Rejvollori instructed.

“My Lj.”

Zj Soliorana nodded to the communications officer.

“Tyroshi fleet of unknown origin,”
the transmission began,
“this is Station Commander Knolan Orth, formerly of Morgenthau-Hale Orbital Station
Tau.
No doubt you are by now aware we have disengaged our core containment protocols and are rapidly approaching critical mass.”

“Station Commander Orth, how good of you to join us. This is Ndeeldavono: Zj Soliorana speaking. How may I be of service to you?”

“I demand to know under what pretense you destroyed my station. If you do not respond to my satisfaction, I intend to do you one better and destroy your entire fleet with what is left of mine. You have two minutes to decide.”

“The readings are false,” the sensors operator declared after the audio was muted.

Lj Rejvollori regarded her dubiously. Their lives did rather depend on her expert assessment, after all. “You are quite certain?”

“They assume we cannot determine the status of their various shipboard operations when in fact we can. Their core containment protocols are still very much engaged and in effect. Someone aboard each of those ships is manually manipulating raw data to make it appear as if they are about to go critical.”

“Excellent work,” Zj Soliorana declared.
 

After several seconds, Commander Orth’s voice filled the command module once more.
“You have an answer for me, I take it?”

“Apologies, Commander Orth, but we do not. A question, actually. You would really sacrifice yourself and all your crew to fulfill a vendetta against your honor?”

“A stain upon our honor. We are as one, in service and in death. If this is war, so be it.”

“Quite the act, Commander. We commend your sincerity. We almost believe you might willingly atomize both our fleets if it truly came down to it. But we feel we should inform you that we are in fact quite aware of your little ruse.”

“I assure you, Zj Soliorana, this is no—”

“Please, Commander, there is no need to embarrass yourself. Neither you nor either of your support vessels are presently in danger of critical failure.”

Silence. No doubt the man was engaged in a hasty, impromptu discussion with his support staff.

“We shall grant you it was a very clever ruse. Against sensors comparable to your own, it would have been virtually undetectable. We would have been entirely at your mercy. As it stands, we now find ourselves in something more akin to a standoff.”

More silence. And then, just as the Zj was about to speak again,
“I’m listening.”

Zj Soliorana smiled—something like a smile, anyway—in spite of himself. “We were hoping you might say that. We believe you will find what we are about to tell you most enlightening.”

30 • EDEN PRIME

Dell frowned with his eyebrows at the hub and the cluster of three-dimensional representations of various oddly-shaped elements dominating the fore of the command module. He felt like he was back in high school, faking his way through chemistry with a hundred other kids every bit as lost and disinterested. In fact, he was bearing witness to the grand unveiling of something that would change the face of the corporate resource wars as they knew it.