Collateral Damage (3 page)

It was the unexpectedness of the incoming message that made Meyal frown. Her last report had been acknowledged and she wasn’t due to receive another communiqué for a couple of weeks. So what was causing her board to blink like celebration lights when she walked into the Analysis Room the following morning?

Sliding into her seat, she played the waiting despatch, coded Urgent for immediate consumption.

The message began with the spinning XeGeTech logo, followed by a hologram of Faber Carven, the company’s founder and chief executive. He was a handsome man of middle age, with bushy eyebrows and a cleft chin. But his movie-vid good looks couldn’t hide the cold glint in his eyes or a pair of lips that always seemed stretched thin with disapproval.

Today, however, he was smiling, an expression that made Meyal feel even more apprehensive. She was sure that a happy Faber Carven meant that a population of people somewhere in the galaxy were about to have a very bad time of it. She wondered if that included her, and swallowed.

“Good day, valued employee. I am talking to you today as the bearer of good news. News that I hope you will celebrate, no matter where in our wonderful galaxy you may be.

“As you know, XeGeTech began its business as a prospector of mineral wealth more than sixty years ago with my grandfather, Rollo Carven. When Grandad retired, he passed the torch to my father, Brown Carven who – seventeen years ago – passed control of the company to me. XeGeTech has always specialised in work outside of Earth’s solar system, leveraging creases as they’re found, and being at the vanguard of exo-geology exploration and exploitation.

“In the past seven decades, however, we have not been alone in this venture. Our major rival, ExoSystems, has dogged us every step of the way, forcing us to be quicker, more efficient and more productive in all we do. While appreciative of the innovations that ExoSystems forced XeGeTech to develop, it was nonetheless my father’s wish to have the wherewithal to buy out our rival, and I am happy to say that the time has finally come for his wish to be fulfilled.

“As of three days ago, ExoSystems has come under the ownership of XeGeTech. I’d like to thank all the ExoSystems employees for their trust and support in this time of transition and, as a special celebration, would like to award all outlying employees of
both
companies a twenty-five per cent raise in their bonuses, to run till the end of their contracts.

“You will be notified individually of the particulars by your sector supervisors but, in the meantime, bask in the warmth of a job that’s very much appreciated by the board of our new company. Good bye.”

The poke from Waryd came fast on the heels of the message and Meyal, dazed, answered the call in a distracted manner, not caring if he saw the previously sacrosanct Analysis Room.

“Did you hear the news?” Waryd asked, not waiting to complete the social pleasantries. A miniature of his figure hovered over the rightmost console of her board.

“We own you now, it seems,” she said.

Waryd’s lips compressed. “I called this outcome months ago. I knew all this penny-pinching by ExoSystems would turn around and bite them in the arse.”

“Penny-pinching?”

He cocked his head, looking at her as if she was a naïf. “They haven’t upgraded their systems in more than four years. We’re still using outdated analysis algorithms and sub-par probe hardware. As a rule, broken drones don’t get repaired.”

Meyal hadn’t known any of that.

“On top of all that,” Waryd continued, “they’ve been—”

Another incoming message blinked on her console. Two official messages in one day? That had never happened before.

“Shush,” she said quickly, silencing him. “I’ve got another call coming in.”

He grinned at her, a devilish tilt to his lips. “Can I listen in?”

Meyal took a breath, then let it out. “Yeah, okay. Why not? But,” she warned him, wagging her finger, “be quiet.”

He made a gesture to turn a lock against his mouth and flick the imaginary key away. “Mum’s the word.”

Meyal swivelled her seat to the left. With the way the board was arranged, Waryd would be able to see the sender of the message, but that person shouldn’t be able to see him. Or so Meyal hoped. She quickly checked angles of sight, moved further to the left and, as further insurance, set up a blind-field to the sub-console’s right.

Clearing her throat, she hit the comms button.

“Meyal Lit here,” she said, as the figure of her sector supervisor, Lewaya Phoenix, appeared.

“Meyal, hello. I was automatically notified when you played the message from Mr. Carven, and am contacting you to ask if you have any questions.”

“Oh.” Meyal paused. “Well, it’s all a bit sudden, isn’t it?” she said with a laugh.

Lewaya smiled in return, but quickly sobered. “The details are as Mr. Carven noted in his communication. You will receive a twenty-five per cent uplift on all bonuses owed to you during your current contract.”

“That’s, er, very generous.”

“Yes,” Lewaya nodded. “I thought so, too. Mr. Carven is a most benevolent employer.”

Something green caught her eye and Meyal glanced right. Above Waryd’s figure, the words, “What about me?” blinked.

“What about, er, the other employees?” Meyal asked.

Lewaya stared at her. “What other employees?”

“Oh, you know,” Meyal waved a hand in the air. “The ExoSystems guys. I don’t suppose Mr. Carven would want two people, for example, doing the work of one, would he?”

“You mean, in systems where both companies have analysis rights?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“As your situation is nothing like that, I don’t see it as your concern,” Lewaya told her bluntly.

Meyal didn’t need to glance at Waryd to know he was going crazy on top of the little projection plate.

She tried again. “Well, it’s just…during the pre-deployment sessions, I heard about…some exo-geologists were talking about other planets, where a number of companies—”

Lewaya’s face cleared. “Ah yes, those would be the larger systems, with several planets of interest. Upon review of all outstanding operations, however, I’ve been told that there are
no
planets currently being analysed by XeGeTech and ExoSystems simultaneously.”

Meyal frowned. “None?” The air seemed to have vacated the room, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” her supervisor said with a laugh. “Maybe that’s what prompted Mr. Carven to take over ExoSystems now – a rare chance at a clean integration between companies, right across the galaxy.”

Mini Waryd stopped jumping as the import of the words hit him too.

“If that's all, I'll end the call now.”

Lewaya reached her hand forward to something out of view.

Meyal could only nod as the conversation terminated and she was once more confronted by a dark screen. She spun around to face Waryd and they stared at each other for a frozen moment.

She was the first to break the silence, her voice full of horror. “You don’t think—”

“The bastards,” he ground out. “They must be onto me. How else can you explain that comment about nobody else scanning Falcin V?”

They were onto him? What was he talking about? “Waryd—”

“Face it, Meyal. Out of the two of us, you’ve obviously been the better performer, so
you're
the exo-geologist they're going to keep on. You have better tools to work with, for a start. And you have fine instincts. I can pretend, but I don’t come close.”

“But surely they wouldn’t—”

He laughed without humour. “Of course they would, especially if they’ve done any digging into my past. In fact, I think the first thing they’ll do is—”

His voice cut out abruptly and the figure of Waryd disappeared.

Frantic, her eyes wide, Meyal scrabbled at the consoles, desperately trying to raise the other orbital. There was no response.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes as her fist thumped the board. “No! No! No!”

Had one of the intervening satellites experienced a problem? Was that why she couldn’t contact Waryd? Meyal wanted to believe their conversation had been abruptly cut by a local technical glitch but, in her heart of hearts, she knew it wasn’t true.

Then, in the middle of her panic attack, her message board lit up for an unbelievable third time. With an effort, Meyal blinked hard and tried to steady her breathing.

“Yes?” she asked, attempting to appear unconcerned. Worry for Waryd started a buzzing in her ears, and she had to concentrate to hear what further information Lewaya Phoenix wished to pass along.

“Meyal, there’s one other thing. I forgot to mention it earlier.” Lewaya cleared her throat. “We’ve picked up some recent…debris around Falcin V.”

Meyal knew her supervisor was lying by the hesitation and higher tone in her voice. “Yes?” she said, breathlessly.

What the hell was wrong with Waryd? Why had communications cut off so abruptly like that? What was Lewaya Phoenix about to say, and why was she lying to her?

“We, er, think it’s a comet that was captured by the planet’s gravity a day or two ago.”

“I hadn't picked up anything,” Meyal said carefully.

“No, of course you wouldn't have. It's on the opposite side of the planet.”

Lying.

“We’re very lucky it didn’t vector to your side and hit you, to be honest, but it does pose an ongoing risk.” 

There wasn’t a comet. There couldn’t have been. Waryd would have picked it up, and told her about it.

“And the last thing we want is to take chances with one of our best employees.”

Meyal knew her voice was faint, but she couldn’t help herself. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us. You’re the one finding all those rich lodes. So, in order to protect you and ensure you’re working as optimally as possible, we’re sending along a specialised probe.”

“Probe?”

Lewaya laughed and the pale skin of her cheeks crinkled. “Don’t worry about it. The probe has been carefully programmed. It will destroy the comet, which is luckily on the exact opposite side of the planet, but will leave your orbital completely untouched, although you may pick up elevated radiation levels as you transit through the termination zone.”

Meyal’s hands clenched the armrests of her chair.

“It’s a nuclear probe?”

“I’ve been informed that that is the best way to destroy the debris.”

“And are you sure it won’t, hit me?”

“Absolutely.” Lewaya smiled broadly. “As I said, it’s been carefully primed, and all the action is going to happen on the other side of Falcin V anyway. I just wanted to warn you about the radiation, in case your sensors pick it up. Rest assured, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“And when,” Meyal husked to a halt, then cleared her throat and tried again. “And when will you be destroying the, comet?”

“Not long now,” Lewaya said brightly. “No more than eighteen standard hours. The probe was launched more than a day ago from one of our automated mobile sector platforms.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Do you have any other questions?”

Meyal shook her head. “N-no, no, I don’t think so.”

“Very good. I want to add, as a personal note, Meyal, that we’re very pleased with the work you’ve done so far. Your extra bonus is well deserved. Congratulations.”

Meyal didn’t think she could move a muscle, but she managed to dredge up the semblance of a smile. “Thank you.”

Lewaya Phoenix, once more, winked out of existence.

Meyal replayed the words, as horrible and unbelievable as they were, through her head.

Lewaya Phoenix had mentioned nuclear missiles masquerading as probes and the existence of automated weapons platforms beyond the system as casually as if ordering a bottle of wine at a restaurant. Meyal had never heard of XeGeTech owning such technology before. She stared at the unresponsive panel, and a fear started growing in her belly. What if Waryd’s orbital had executed a protocol severing every outgoing communications link…as a prelude to getting destroyed? What if key systems on his station could be remotely controlled without him knowing? And what did Waryd mean by saying they “were onto” him? Was there something he knew, something he'd done, that somehow threatened XeGeTech? Putting all the pieces together, even knowing that she didn't have all the information, Meyal admitted to herself that it was all starting to sound like a deadly game.

And she could either sit there, and wait for a furious, but unsuspecting, Waryd to be killed...or she could do something.

Meyal thought of the conversations she and Waryd had held, the sessions of shared passion, her daydreams of touching him in the flesh. She
couldn't
let him die.

Brushing the wetness away from her face with the heel of her palm, she focused on the control panel beneath her fingers. “Think, Meyal, think!”

If Lewaya Phoenix was right, she had eighteen hours before Waryd and his orbital were destroyed. There was no question about what she had to do. She had to get Waryd to safety. Bonuses and company regulations were one thing, but she couldn’t sit by and let another person get murdered. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let that happen.

But, the question of the millennia was: how was she going to save Waryd?

Meyal forced herself to remember the details of the planet.

“The diameter of Falcin V is thirty-seven thousand kilometres,” she recited in a shaky voice. “Our orbitals are three thousand, six hundred kilometres above the planet. That gives an amended diameter of,” she frantically punched in numbers, “forty four thousand two hundred kilometres, or a circumference of one hundred and thirty-nine thousand kilometres. Assuming that Waryd’s orbital is directly opposite mine, it’s almost seventy thousand kilometres away.”

She licked her lips, forcing herself to slow down. “How can I get him?” she muttered. “I can’t reprogram the orbital.”