Chapter 1 – Tales from the White Queen
PROLOGUE
What can I say about Sector G? It’s not as bad as some of the Sectors here on Zephra Prime, worse than others. Crime is average, at least the crime you know about, and you can walk the streets without fear of being robbed most of the time. Unemployment is average; there are jobs for those who want to work. We’ve got rich neighborhoods, poor neighborhoods, and everything in between. So, I guess what I’m trying to convey here is that, as Sectors go, G is a solid “middle-of-of-the-road”.
We’ve got a spaceport that is the central hub of the Sector. We get ships from every planet you can imagine. We’ve got the egg-shaped spaceliners from the Vespera star system where the Groombridge live and the quad-winged transports from the Drakara system, home to the Koloraxid. We even get the behemoth cargo haulers from Verenth in the Soderquist system. The races that arrive on Zephra Prime get more diverse every day.
I own The White Queen, a bar near the spaceport. Name’s Jake Cutter. I had a lot of careers before I decided to buy the place and serve drinks into my retiring years. I’ve been a soldier, a bodyguard, a smuggler, a miner, and a Sector Patrol officer. It’s the later that made me notice the bar.
As a former sector cop I always knew what was going on, who was into what. I would pass The White Queen on my patrol route; see the riff raff come in and out. It was mostly minor offense recidivists who were guilty of trading in bootleg off-world alcohol, exo crystalization vape tubes (ECVs for short), and the smuggling of the oddball artifact (or supposed artifact) from somewhere in the unexplored regions. Dyrzheg, an old asteroid miner and the previous owner, ran a tight ship; knowing who to let get away with what and when to call the sector cops. He also made a lot of money. You didn’t cause trouble in The White Queen and you didn’t cut a deal without giving him a piece.
Sector Police are not as stupid as the underworld would like believe or as hard-nosed as the general public believes. They’re cops, plain and simple. They deal with societies cast offs, the rich who feel they’re above the law, and everything in between and are still expected to keep a smile when some ass monkey vomits all over the interior of your patrol vehicle.
Are there bad Sector Cops? Sure. But there are more good than bad. Do they ignore crimes? It depends on the crime. If you dine and dash at one of the hash stands that totals a whopping two credits, you’re likely not high up on the radar. If you rob the hash stand, then you have a little more attention.
As the owner of the bar I only have one rule: Don’t do anything illegal in my bar unless you check with me first. If you don’t check first, and it’s really illegal, the sector cops come in to take a report and haul away your body. If you check and I approve, I get five percent.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
The rain came down in sheets, its heavy sound masking the cacophony of the streets around her. Several men were unloading a cargo truck, keeping the boxes over their heads to deflect the deluge. Crates were already stacked high on the platform of a crane arm that extended from the rooftop of the highest building. One man, sopping wet, set a rather large crate on the loading platform and stepped back, removing a remote from his pocket. He flipped a switch and the platform began to rise as the crane arm rewound its cables.
Tanja gave the men only a cursory inspection and pulled her long coat tighter. Her mind was on the door of the White Queen. She’d been planning this for almost five years, but now… She wasn’t sure. Her heart told her she had to do it, but her stomach was another story.
She reached into her oversized handbag and pulled out a small, metallic tube about three inches long and half an inch in diameter. Her thumb grazed a small button inset at the bottom and the top flipped open. She peered at the micro LED counter on the side of the tube and saw the number “1” flashing. She hoped one relaxant would be enough to get her through the next hour.
She put the tube to her lips and gently tapped it. The pill rolled onto her tongue. She winced at the acidic- sour taste. Within seconds the relaxant dissolved and she could feel the tension in her chest begin to ease. The world seemed to lose a little of its focus and she let out a long breath. Time to go.
She stepped out from under the awning of the pawnshop she’d been using for cover and into the road. She glanced left, right, and then made her way across the street. In the distance she could hear the sounds of emergency sector patrol sirens. For an instant they touched the memory; sirens in the rain, far away, coming closer, the end of one life, the beginning of another. Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
She shook the rain and memories from her head, realizing she was standing at the door to the White Queen. The relaxant had fully infiltrated her system and the world seemed to become almost surreal. She looked up, staring into the transparent armored door of the bar. The rain drops rolling down her cheeks gave the appearance of tears. She stepped forward and the door slid open.
“In or out? I don’t want water all over my floor!”
Tanja looked up, startled. Every eye in the bar was on her. A kaleidoscope of color from the bar lights danced off the water drops on the furred hood of her coat. A small strand of red hair fell from beneath her hood and swung over her green eyes.
“Well, what’s it gonna’ be?” The voice came to her again.
She saw the bartender staring at her as he filled a mug.
“Huh”? She asked.
The bartender slid a mug of something deep green down the bar and into the hands of a long-necked Groombridge. “I said, in our out. I’ve got better things to do than mop floors all day.”
She looked backwards and noticed the rainwater starting to pool in the door. “Sorry,” she whispered and took a step forward, the auto-door sliding closed behind her.
She glanced nervously around the bar, right, left, and back again. The bar patrons had gone back to their drinks, all but one. He smiled at her, nodding, and hoisting a drink in her direction. She gave him a quick smile and looked away, sliding between tables as she made her way to the back of the bar. She recognized the man from her hotel. She knew it was merely coincidence. The man had been on a billboard in the hotel, some kind of archeologist speaking at a convention. Still. . . she’d keep her eyes on him just in case.
Finding a booth against the back wall, she slipped out of her coat and slid on to the bench facing the front of the bar. She wore a white leather lattice top that conformed to her figure. She’d chosen it for two reasons. It accented her figure enough that she hoped the person she was meeting would be distracted and second it was sleeveless in case she needed to respond to fight or flight.
Her pants were loose fitting black linen, the legs tucked into black suede boots. Long, red hair spilled down her shoulders and around her cheeks framing her face in a scarlet heart.
To her left was a large, plate-glass window that afforded her a view of the streets approaching the White Queen. She leaned back into the bench and stared out at the world. The rain was letting up. The work crew was still unloading the truck. How many times in her old life had an aircargo truck pulled up in front of her house, making deliveries of another useless thing for her famous…
A small waiter box slid up from the center of the table, a series of blinking lights around its top. “Good after noon, Miss.” Its robotic voice squawked. “Would you care for a drink or perhaps something from our late morning menu?”
Tanja smiled at the box. “How about a Blue Horizon?”
“Very good, Miss. Would you care for something to eat?”
“No, just the drink.”
“As you wish.” The box slid back into the table.
She turned back to the city beyond the window. Aircars rushed by above the building levels, shoppers walked the streets dressed for the weather, delivery crews unloaded crates of merchandise, and a teenager road by on an old-fashioned hover bike.
A serverdrone rolled to a stop at her table. “Your drink, Miss.” A door opened on its boxy front and a mechanical armed extended forward with her drink.
“Thank you.” She said, taking the drink.
“You’re welcome, Miss. Should you require anything else, please tap the waiter box.” The serverdrone withdrew its mechanical and arm and trundled away.
A dark shadow crossed in front of the window as a large man passed. Could it be? She looked at her watch. It was time. Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
She watched as he came through the door. He was tall, almost seven feet. He had no hair and wore no shirt. A tribal tattoo swirled the right side of his face. His left eye had been replaced by a glowing, metallic, prosthetic. Skin-embedded circuits crisscrossed his chest and arms and a geared-wheel replaced the elbow of his left arm, spinning as he flexed. Protruding from between his shoulder blades was a series of metal spikes, giving the appearance of reptile fin, running from the base of his neck to the center of his back. A wicked smile seemed to be permanently affixed to his lips.
He glanced around the bar, his eyes coming to rest on her. The smile seemed to grow wider and he angled toward her. His walk was almost a glide, graceful, smooth. People around the bar seemed to sense his presence and slid closer to their tables, not wanting to have an encounter with a Luyton Death Merchant.
A voice called to the machine man. “Hey.”
The bar grew quiet as the Luyton turned to the caller. Jake stood behind the bar, his apron pulled aside to reveal his fast draw rig underneath.
“You fulfill a contract in my bar, you never reach the door.”
The Luyton eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t stop me.” The voice was dark, an oily whisper.
“Yeah, Aergexo, I can.”
Tanja could feel her body bucking against the relaxant. It was him! The bartender had called him by name! Suddenly she felt sick, her stomach roiling. With an effort she choked down the bile rising in her throat. Could she actually do this? She thought again of the sirens, the rain, the smell of smoke, the pain.
The Luyton, seeming a bit surprised, looked at the bartender. “You have the advantage, sir. Have we met before?”
“Praest thirty years ago.”
Aergexo stared at the bartender for a moment. “Cutter. It’s been a long time. You’ve gotten old.”
“And you’re a walkin’ radio tower. Remember what I said.”
Aergexo put his hand to his chest and bowed and Jake let his apron fall back into place. The Luyton continued his glide toward the woman as the bar came back to life.
He stopped at the edge of her table. “Miss Venganza?” The words seemed to slither from his mouth.
She nodded.
“May I sit down?” He rolled his fingers and gestured with what she could now see was a mechanical hand.
She nodded again and he slid into the opposite seat, its vinyl creaking under his weight.
“So, Miss Venganza, as you’ve probably guessed by now my name is Aergexo.”
“You and the bartender seemed to know each other.”
“We . . .” he paused, “have a history, some unfinished business actually. In a way I’m indebted to you. I knew he was here on Zephra Prime, but I had not thought to see him here. Now that I see what he has become, I feel the odds of our unfinished business have fallen in my favor.”
“I see.”
“Just so. Now, I know that you have some connections as it’s not that easy to contact me. And, only those with large finances can afford my services. As you know, it will cost you two hundred thousand credits for this meeting alone, whether I agree to your proposal or not.”
She opened her bag and pulled a cash card from its depths. She slid it across the table. Aergexo picked it up with his mechanical hand and a small light began flashing in his palm. He smiled and slid the card into a pants pocket.
“What can I do for you?” That damned mechanical smile.
She stared down at the table for a moment. “I have a problem.”
“One would assume so if you are looking to hire my services.”
She glanced up. “It involves the Zarax Company. I understand you know them well.” She could feel her chest tighten. Could the relexant have worn off so soon? Aergexo was a living, breathing weapon and any screw up on her part now would mean her death. I’m so close, she thought. Five more minutes and I’ll get what I want. Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
“I’ve worked for and against Zarax when need be. I know only about operations where I’ve been directly involved. If you’re looking for some sort of corporate espionage, than I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”
“I’m not interested in corporate espionage,” she said, a little more forcefully than she had intended. “I need some information and my problem taken care of.”
“I see. Suppose you tell me about your problem.”
“Do you know Michael Kwong?”
“Second level executive at Zarax. I’ve done work for Kwong on four occasions. But, if you want to eliminate him as part of your problem, you can save the money. He was removed from any and all equations two weeks ago. I did it myself. Though, I must say, the first level executives were not overly thrilled at his death. They were grooming him for a promotion.”
She looked into his organic eye. “He was only part of my problem. Knowing that he’s dead allows me to remove him from my equation. The four individuals that Kwong hired you to, for interest’s sake, work with; I want their names and why they were chosen.”
The Luyton smiled broadly. “Why would you want to know something like that?”
“Does it matter? I don’t think Kwong is going to worry about it.”
Aregexo raised his hand in a “why not” gesture. “Do you want the long or the short version?”
“How about we start with the short version and expand if we need to.”
He shrugged. “You paid for the meeting. The first was Doctor Neal Jones, a biochemist on Mars, about seven years ago. It seems the good doctor was having second thoughts about his bioweapons research and was about to pull the plug on a new virus his department had just developed. The development had been Okayed by Kwong and he didn’t want to see his career take a hit.”
She nodded. “Next.”
“Number two was a level one executive at Victory Wire named Berton Croyle, October six years ago. He was about to close a deal with Ugul Comp making them one of the largest distributers of logistic microbots in the system. Kwong wanted to cut his own deal and needed time.”
She twirled her finger. “Next.”
“Three was a professional Rezball player named Aaron Leath. I killed him six years ago on Christmas day. That one was rather messy I’m afraid. The explosion killed the wife as well. Kwong is, or was, the primary investor in the Alyan Flyers. Leath was the star player and rumor had it he was leaving. Kwong’s stock was taking a hit. He couldn’t have that. Kwong tried to arrange a meeting with Leath, but the man refused. Kwong decided to eliminate him and send a message that you don’t cross the money man.”
“I’d always wondered.” Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
“Yes, well, should I continue?”
“No. Who was Kwong’s direct superior?”
“Ah, that would be Tia Kamm, level one exec.”
“Did she know about Kwong’s elimination program?”
“The level one executives have their eyes on everything. In anticipation of your next question, no, I don’t believe she ordered, nor approved, the removal of his problems. She has enough of her own.”
“I see. You believe, but you’re not sure?”
Aergexo again lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “One cannot be a hundred percent sure of another’s motives.”
A bolt of fear ran through her. Was he looking directly into her heart? She looked down at the table. “No, I guess not.”
“Now, shall we get to the crux of your problem, Miss Venganza?”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “I need someone with ties to Zarax eliminated.”
His right eye blinked in surprise. “Well, I did say we cut to it didn’t I? Who would this unfortunate individual be?”
Tanja sighed heavily. It’s now or never, she thought. “I’ll show you.”
She reached into her bag. She felt her hand close around the pistol’s grips, felt her index finger slip into the cold ring of the trigger guard and squeeze ever so slightly on the trigger. She knew at this range, weapon would penetrate any shield Aergexo’s cyber-implants might be generating. She had an idea that he didn’t have any though. It was clear he was arrogant, thinking that the fear his mere presence generated would be enough to keep any opponent off balance. Not this time. Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
Her hand cleared the bag in a flash, pointing the gun at Aergexo’s chest. Her other hand came up and held the weapon in a two-handed grip.
Individuals at the surrounding tables saw the weapon and began to scatter, knocking over chairs and tables in their haste to get to the exit.
Aergexo’s organic eye grew wide for an instant and then narrowed. “Let me guess, Miss Venganza, I am the individual with ties to Zarax?”
“You killed my husband.”
That damnable smile flashed. “I’ve killed a lot of men, Miss Venganza.” His eyes, both organic and cyber, seemed to grow dark. “To date I’ve only killed one woman. But that can change.”
Tanja squeezed the trigger a little tighter and the tracking laser activated, a red dot appearing over the man’s heart. “No.”
“Oh, I assure you, Miss Venganza, I will kill you.”
Her eyes grew cold. “I’m sure of it. But that’s not what I meant. You didn’t kill the woman.” Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
He stared at her for a moment and then his smile grew dark, wicked. “Mrs. Leath.”
She nodded.
“I must say you look extremely well for a dead woman.”
Her finger squeezed a little tighter. A few more ounces of pressure and the plasma pistol would fire, obliterating her enemy’s heart, just as he had done to her. “No one ever asked what happened to Aaron’s money. It took some doing but I found out whom to pay to fake my death. Three years of DNA remodeling and body reconstruction, another three working my way into the good graces of mob bosses. All for this moment.”
“My dear, Miss Ven. . . Miss Leath, you do realize that even if you manage to kill me, my last act will be to kill you. I’m very good at it.” His voice grew oilier.
“No doubt. But you should know something: I don’t care. I saw you from the window just before it happened. You kept staring up at the house. I thought you were just another one of my husband’s fans. After the explosion I laid there, rain pouring through the hole in the roof, choking on the smoke, most of my right leg missing, and I watched my husband breathe his last. I heard the sirens coming and out of the corner of my eye I saw you look in the window and I knew. I knew you’d done it. I made myself a promise that I’d hunt you down.”
“And Kwong?”
“Through my new connections I made arrangements. I’m the one who hired you to kill him.”
Aergexo shook his head. “Well done, Mrs. Leath, well done. I promise that when I walk out of here, I’ll always remember you as one the sharpest minds I’ve ever faced.”
“You won’t be walking out of here. You took everything away from me.” Sirens, rain, smoke, pain.
He smiled. “Not everything.”
The waiter box popped up from the table. Aergexo glanced down, simultaneously bringing his arm over the table top. She felt the heat as the plasma blast slid past her cheek. The world went out of focus and she pulled the trigger of her own weapon. Round after round of plasma energy slammed into the Luyton’s chest, tissue and circuits exploding in a shower of sparks and ichor. She held the trigger down until there was only a dry clicking from the internal igniter, its power cell drained.
She felt the tears rolling down her face, felt the burn on her cheek, smelled her singed hair. She saw through the hole in Aergexo’s chest that the back of the booth had been blown apart. She couldn’t believe she was still alive. She looked down to see if she’d been hit and, to her surprise, found that the only damage was the burn on her cheek.
She heard a metallic crunch and looked up, fully prepared for Aergexo to kill her. Instead she watched as his body fell forward, chest and head collapsing on the table. She also saw the bartender standing tableside, his own weapon drawn. It was not pointing at her, but at the slumped Luyton.
“Time to go,” he said.
She looked at him, confused. “What?”
“Time. . . To . . . Go.”
“I don’t. . .” She started.
“The waiter box was my idea. I also heard everything you guys said. Aergexo was a son of a bitch and should have caught a fat one in the chest a long time ago. Besides, your husband was a hell of a player.”
“I don’t. . . What do I do now?
“Have you thought about xenoarcheology?” A new voice called.
She saw the man from her hotel smiling from his table. He had remained when everyone else had scattered.
“It won’t make you a lot of money,” he said, “and it’s hours of tedious work on some of the remotest planets in systems you’ve probably never heard of, but it is rewarding.”
The bartender holstered his weapon. “I don’t care if you take up ice fishing on Enthelon; get the hell out of my bar! The sector patrol will be here in a few minutes and I can’t explain this if you’re here.”
The man leaped to his feet and grabbed the woman’s bag. “You should put your coat on,” he said. “We wouldn’t want someone to recognize you.”
She slipped on her coat and started for the door, the man from her hotel following close behind. She stopped and turned to the bartender. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t come back.”
They stepped outside. Tanja looked up. The rain had cleared. She heard the sirens. They were getting closer.
The man beside her slipped her arm under his and hailed an airtaxi. “My name is Hugh Sumner. I’m on an expedition to find one of the lost temples of the Vaushe. I believe it will be found on Preca. The planet is filled with jungles and there’s no civilization to speak of. We would be living out of an exploration shuttle. It’s a long trip so you’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about what happened in there. All in your own time of course and provided you want to go.”
“That would be. . .” She paused. A planet with rain, but no sirens, smoke from cooking fires instead of burning walls, and the only pain from sore muscles after a long day, sounded good to her. “That would be nice.”
They got into the air taxi.