Read The Catalyst (Targon Tales) Online

Authors: Chris Reher

Tags: #rebels, #interplanetary, #space opera, #military sci-fi, #romance, #science fiction, #sci-fi

The Catalyst (Targon Tales) (3 page)

BOOK: The Catalyst (Targon Tales)
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Seth grinned but said nothing when he turned his attention to her wound. He winced when she let him remove the patch. "That thing looks nasty."

She watched him while he applied disinfectant, aware of his hands close to her body. A wide scar above his right eye had happened at some point during the past years but she seemed to remember every contour of his face as if she had seen it just yesterday. When his lips formed into a teasing smile she realized that he had caught her staring. The oddly glowing Centauri eyes were now watching her as intensely. "Are you sure you don't feel sick from breathing in that powder from the tank?"

She gathered herself. "Not very much. I’ll be fine. Not as dangerous as you think it is, I guess."

His hands halted their task of taping a fresh gauze pad to her neck. "Nova, that stuff was almost fifty percent water ash. Didn't anyone tell you that?"

She gaped at him, speechless.

"See, now this is why I didn't join your tin soldier army. Let me guess. Your CO tells you to go under cover as the type of riff-raff that hangs around on Pelion and transport a ridiculously flimsy box containing some sort of cephalopod out of rebel territory. Of course no one tells you that the stuff it lives in is poisonous enough to annihilate an entire town if it got out into the air. But you accept the order, without question, because that's what you're told to do."

"That's my job," she hissed and pushed his hands away. "It's what I do."

"It's a witless way to live your life. And short."

"Not as witless as being a pirate."

"At least I have a choice."

"And how did you choose this one?

He shrugged. "We were paid to capture your ship, retrieve the box and take it to Feyd. That's all. Wasn't meant to be that difficult."

"So that's your life now? Being a pirate? Looting rust buckets like that garbage scow for profit?"

"A man's got to eat, Babe."

"Don't call me that." She stood up and paced about the small cabin. "Who hired you?"

He propped a leg onto the armrest of her chair. "Why would I tell you that? At this point the best you can hope for is for me to drop you off some place nice where your people can find you. And for that you should be grateful, not ask me questions about things that don’t concern you."

She rounded on him. "I am still a Union agent! You attacked an Air Command operation. This concerns me deeply."

"So are you going to arrest me again, then? I find this confusing, seeing how I’m the one who kidnapped you."

Nova only scowled, knowing that nothing she could say would ruffle him or move him to tell her anything he did not want her to know. She turned away, suddenly utterly fatigued and defeated. She and her team members had failed in their duty to protect the Myrid in the tank. Her colleagues, chosen for this detail only because they had been deployed on a base conveniently located to Pelion's jumpsite, were dead. She herself would be dead or enslaved now, perhaps only after enduring the attentions of the pirates, if not for Seth. And he knew it.

"Look," he said, replacing the mocking tone of his voice with something softer. "I can take you over to Magra. You can get to the Union base on that planet and hitch a ride home. But first I have to pick up some coolant and order some repairs on Aikhor. We’re still hours from there. Why don't you get some rest? You can take the crew cabin. I usually flop out here anyway. Just don't shoot me for a traitor while I sleep."

 

* * *

The Dutchman was brooding quietly, its cockpit in darkness, the autopilot taking care of the next destination. Nova had retreated into the cramped crew cabin without further words. Seth peered into the room only minutes later to find that she had dropped onto the lower bunk without bothering to even remove her vest or to pull a blanket from the upper berth before falling asleep.

 He slouched in the ship’s pilot chair, his feet atop whatever debris had piled up on the console next to it. He ignored the usual jumbled confusion of the cabin; it rarely bothered him. On the days when it did he could be very thorough about cleaning his ship. Today was not such a day. He sat in the snug comfort of his home and sorted through the jumble within his mind.

He closed his eyes, remembering the conversation just a few days ago that had led him here.

"I heard you're between jobs, Kada," a grating, high-pitched voice had roused Seth from the near doze he had enjoyed that afternoon on Magra.

He had opened his eyes just enough to see a scrawny Human perched on the edge of his tub as if by invitation. "I'm on vacation, Zizzy, so you better piss off before I feel the need to drown someone." He closed his eyes again and tried to recapture the incredible sense of relaxation he had found here, immersed in biting hot water and fragrant steam.

"You Centauri have an exaggerated need for cleanliness," Zizzy said, apparently not afraid for his life.

"You should try it. What do you want?"

"It's what Pe Khoja wants that you should worry about."

Seth opened his eyes again. "What does he want?"

"Easy job, if you're up to it. There's a shipment leaving Pelion that needs to be stopped. Going outbound on a private freighter. Pe Khoja wants that shipment. A glass box about this big." He gestured.

Seth looked around the bath house. He saw no one within earshot and the few other patrons were, as he had been, blissfully enjoying the quiet haven of water, clean tiles and well-worn wood. An appealing blonde hovered around the massage tables, looking like she might be up for a little private entertainment. "Why are you boring me with this, Zizzy?"

"The box is getting an Air Command escort out of rebel territory. Seven or eight. Plain clothes. Could get nasty if they don’t want to give it up. Pe Khoja’s not too concerned about their survival rate.”

"What's in the box?"

"Water ash. ‘Bout half and half pure."

Seth sat up in his tub and ran his hands through his hair to squeeze the water from it. "Why are they shipping water ash on a bloody cargo ship? Isn't that stuff poisonous?"

"As aerosol, extremely. You do not want to open that box. It’s also hugely valuable. A bucket of that would keep a pharmaceutical concern going for a decade. But it's what else is in the box that has Pe Khoja all excited."

"What would that be?"

"I have no idea, but it's alive. Some anaerobic squid-thing from one of the Pelion moons. I'm not up on my xenos. Apparently they like water ash as long as it doesn't oxidize. Not too clear on that."

"What does Pe Khoja want with it?"

"Hey, I don't ask questions. I'm just getting his crew together. You want the job or not? Freighter is leaving Pelion in..." He paused to check a screen on his wrist. "Two days, our time. You'll make it if you hurry. What do you say? Want to play pirate?"

Seth stood up, not particularly worried about splashing the messenger when he turned on the overhead taps to rinse the soap from his body.

"Watch it," Zizzy jumped away from the edge of the tub.

"Afraid to get clean?" Seth smiled at the blonde when she brought him a large bath sheet. The smile she returned definitely included an invitation. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the sheet around his waist."Let me see the guards."

Zizzy held up his wrist unit for Seth to study. "Pilots, mainly skycops off Zera, side-loaded into this crap assignment for lack of other agents in the area."

"I'm a pilot," Seth reminded him. He scrolled the pictures over the screen to memorize the agents' faces. When Nova Whiteside appeared on the display he quickly turned his surprised gasp into a cough. "Who else is going?"

"Gwain's crew, I'm guessing."

"Gwain’s an idiot. He’s got no grip on his men." His thumb idly traced the edge of Nova's face. Even the greasy screen did not obscure the bright green eyes sparkling in a face sternly composed for the Union admin photographer. He thought it a shame that her long mane of copper hair was pulled out of sight in the picture.

"That’s why Pe Khoja wants
you
to take the box," Zizzy said.

Seth sighed dramatically and released the man's arm. "All right. Tell him I'm in. But he better be paying in large numbers if I have to handle that box. I like my lungs the way they are."

Seth's thoughts returned to the presence and the untidy interior of his ship. Pe Khoja would not be pleased about the spilled tank. Other than the valuable substance in the box, of what significance was that creature? He considered sending a coded message to a contact on Targon to see what may be found there but then thought better of it. The less contact with Air Command's headquarters in Trans-Targon, the better.

And what about Nova, now here on his ship? He left his chair to walk back into the cabin, stopping to retrieve the gun she had tossed into to the lounger cubby. Perhaps it was best to keep the hardware out of her reach for a while. He smiled at the thought. If needed, Nova could probably fashion a weapon from a boot. She had been long out of his mind although the weeks they had spent together those years ago were some of the most pleasurable in his memory. Capable, beautiful, possessing a mercurial temper, she had made each of those otherwise dreary days exciting and interesting. He could admit that, after Nova, he had never been able to look at a red-haired woman without a strange longing for what he had given up. Maybe she hadn’t been out of his mind, after all.

Chapter Three

"Do you know what this meeting here was about?"

"No, Sire, I do not." The Human's brow furrowed as he pondered the question, posed quite amicably across the glass conference table by what was likely the most powerful of the Ten Elected Factors in Trans-Targon.

He looked over the debris left behind after the meeting. Cups and bowls, discarded notes and ignored reports, someone's forgotten respirator and, inexplicably, a pair of gloves. With temperatures soaring beyond endurance for most Humans and Centauri on this planet, why would anyone need gloves? He brought his attention back to the Factor. "I saw civilians leave. I'm guessing investors, perhaps, considering where we are."

Factor Rellius, a Centauri who had actually spent a good part of his life in the Centauri sector, rose to his feet and walked to the large windows overlooking Talan An, Feyd's capital city. Ancient architecture sprawled over the valley floor beyond the commercial blocks allocated to the Commonwealth, glaring in white-washed splendor under the relentless Feydan sun. In contrast, this citadel of air-conditioned comfort rose like a fortress above it all. "Indeed, investors," he said. "To put it more precisely, the sort of people who make life in Trans-Targon possible for us."

"Sire?"

"I am talking about trade, Drackon. What is the single most valuable commodity that comes to us from Centauri?"

Sam Drackon again glanced about the room, wondering why the Factor had chosen this day to lecture him. "Sire, if this is about the incident near Pelion–"

"Oh, just indulge me." The Factor busied himself with straightening an impeccable fold on his impeccable suit. His expensively maintained body and the naturally black hair falling over his face when he bent forward made him seem youthful compared to the Human.

"Well, most of our buying power here comes from importing ordium from the Proxima system, I believe. It hasn't been found here in Trans-Targon."

"Indeed. And our job is to make sure that everyone here wants it. So now the stuff is worth several thousand times more here than it is on Centauri even after the cost of shipping which, I don't need to remind you, takes two years. And what does Centauri want in return?"

"Water ash," the Human said grudgingly. He loosened his uniform collar, feeling the star-shaped insignia as he did so.

Factor Rellius clapped his hands together in delight, just once, as if his favorite pupil had just given a correct answer. "And here we are, with an entire planet just covered in it. Not a lake here and there, scattered all over the sector. But one single source with enough ash to supply Centauri for the next millennium." He pondered the prospect for a moment. The light slanting into the room turned his violet eyes into flat, lifeless disks. "And here you are to tell me that the one thing that threatens the entire glorious enterprise is a squid in a box you failed to capture. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir. The operation did not proceed as planned. Unless we bring full military presence to bear, we have limited movement in that sector. My available resources for that type of covert operation, as you know, are utterly inadequate. Most certainly, we cannot move militarily against a small group of Delphian civilians. Not with our relations with Delphi in such a fragile state." He paused when Rellius’ expression made clear that he had little concern for the means that brought about the ends he sought. "I have a report with me," he said.

The Factor gestured vaguely and with extreme disinterest for him to go ahead. Drackon rose and walked to a screen at the head of the table. There were no technicians in this room, no agents, no guards, not even someone to display the presentation for these two men. The sort of meeting held by Factor Rellius and Colonel Drackon required no one else at the table. "Our analysis of the data sent from Pelion contains some valuable information." He activated the screen.

Rellius looked up to see a dimly-lit corridor, possibly aboard a large ship or perhaps a remote outpost station, judging by the utilitarian design.

"This is the interior of the
Dyona
, owned by Pel-Aram, a shipping company out of Pelion. She was boarded just prior to entering the jumpsite toward Aikhor and Magra."

The Centauri nodded. Several people in protective clothing and full-face masks walked the hallway. Some were recording things, others were waving sensors around. No one seemed to bother much about the corpses littering the floor.

"This recording was made only a few hours ago," the officer said. "There were no survivors aboard. Our team was able to download the records of the ship's internal surveillance system." He skipped to another segment. "Here is the incident with the sample."

Rellius watched some of the pirates and a red-haired woman in some sort of cabin aboard the ship. His expression did not change when the rebel struck the woman but he frowned when the tank shattered on the cargo level. "I will suggest you review what sort of renegades you employ in the future, Colonel. A little competence goes a long way."

BOOK: The Catalyst (Targon Tales)
2.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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