Descent Read online

  “I’m so glad. For a moment, I was worried that you’d put one of those mines on it and set it to self-detonate.”

  “With several tons of mines just outside the ship? I’m more astute than that, Jiang. You said so yourself. The blast radius would level the whole city.”

  “So what did you do with the mines then?”

  “What makes you think I did anything with them?” Vismach asked.

  “Because it’s in your purview,” Jiang said. “And I’m beginning to get an idea of what part of your scheme is here.”

  “I did nothing with them,” Vismach said. “I left every last one of them where I found them. However, I also made a quick estimation of the quantity of the things. Then I identified them as a model that will automatically attack ships, able to move under their own propulsion to do so. However, they all have receiver arrays. Your thoughts?”

  “You’re familiar with the model already,” Jiang said. “Not surprising really as since the Levarc War, the manufacture of any sort of mine has been illegal both in the Federation and most systems in the United Frontier as well. But someone’s still making the things, it seems, and I’d say they’re your kind of people.”

  “You seem to be taking every opportunity you can to insult me, Jiang,” Vismach said.

  “I don’t like you,” Jiang reminded him. “And you did ask me for my thoughts. However, I would have expected you to take that as a compliment. After all, it’s your criminal mind that’s landed you your latest contract, as you said.”

  “True enough, I suppose. Compliment accepted.”

  “Now, I’m far too tired for guessing games so just tell me about the mines. The receiver arrays?”

  “So that certain ships can pass them safely,” Vismach explained. “If they broadcast certain signals, the mines won’t attack them.”

  “Makes sense. And you worked out the signals for these mines by reverse-engineering one, I take it?”

  “There are no signals encoded yet,” Vismach said. “Programming these things is an owner’s privilege. After all, if you’re employing these things, you don’t want the guys who sold them to you making a bit of extra profit by selling the security signals to one of your rivals.”

  “And they’d do that, of course, wouldn’t they?”

  “I would,” Vismach said. “And, as you pointed out, they’re my kind of people.”

  “So then, if you didn’t find any security codes, what did you do?”

  “I did one better. I found the frequency the codes would have to be sent on.”

  A reluctant smile formed on Jiang’s lips. Despite her personal feelings, privately she had to admit a certain admiration for her old adversary. “So you can jam it when Imraec Tarc’s ships try to broadcast their security signals.”

  “And watch as they’re ripped apart by their own mines.” Vismach leaned forward. “Now, are you sure you don’t want to assist me in my work here for a while?”

  Jiang folded her arms. “Perhaps. But don’t forget. We’re not friends, Vismach, and we never will be.”

  10. Asten and Selina Arrive

  Asten sat down at the Lady Hawk’s helm and glanced at the viewscreen. Imraec Tarc, an orb of swirling emerald and murky hues of green and blue was now just beneath them. After following the several course deviations laid down to them by whatever counted for traffic control down there, they were finally arriving.

  He flicked on the communicator as Selina entered the cockpit and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Imraec Tarc control, this is the Drifter’s Folly reporting in for final approach.”

  “Copy that, Drifer’s Folly,” came the immediate reply. “We have your position and you’re on schedule. You’ve been assigned to landing platform three-seven-six at Port Alema.”

  “Thank you, control. Drifter’s Folly out.”

  With that, Asten terminated the transmission and turned to his wife. “See? Nothing to it.”

  Selina smiled but she looked anxious - and she had felt anxious too, ever since she had discovered her pregnancy. She no longer wanted to be on this mission.

  Soon, the Lady Hawk was enveloped in the thick atmosphere of the world below them and they descended to a massive seaside port, with buildings and roads stretching along the coast to either side and rainforest closing in behind it from the land. A few minutes later, Asten had landed the ship. Then, together, he and Selina disembarked and were immediately drenched in sweat.

  The heat from the sun above was not just hot. It was heavy, oppressive even. And there was a glare that reflected off seemingly everything in sight. Metal surfaces. The brickwork and stone that formed the exterior walls of some of the nearby buildings. Everything.

  “Hot place,” Asten said, stating the rather obvious.

  “Yeah,” Selina said. “Come on. Let’s go and get our landing permit and then find somewhere with a bit of air conditioning.”

  They left the platform and followed the wide street outside to a circular building, quite large but built low to the ground, and went inside where they found themselves in a foyer with a desk by the far wall. Behind it, a human man was watching them. Two more humans, wearing what appeared to be some type of security guard uniform, stood by a door a little behind him to his right.

  Asten approached the desk. “Hi. I’m after a landing permit. My ship’s on platform three-seven-six. The -”

  “Drifter’s Folly,” the man replied, standing up. “Yes, I know.”

  Asten frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

  “A slight problem only, I believe,” the man replied, his expression blank and his tone giving away even less. “Would you and your associate please come with me?”

  He gestured them towards the door with the two security guards on either side. Somehow, Asten didn’t think that taking Selina and running for it would be a good idea. Despite his reservations, he took his wife’s hand and they followed the man through the now open doorway.

  The door slid shut behind them. They were now in a wide corridor that appeared to circle around the building, with doorways branching off it in different directions. Their guide opened one that led further into the building’s interior. On the other side was a small room, with walls made of tinted glass, although they couldn’t see what was behind it.

  “If you would just wait here for a moment,” the guide said, standing aside and waving them through.

  Asten and Selina walked into the room and the door shut behind them. Their guide was no longer with them.

  A light appeared. It emitted from the glass in front of them, a narrow line of blue that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. The source of the light then moved across the glass, circling around behind them before returning to its original position and switching off.

  Then the tinted glass in front of them slid into the recess of the wall, revealing another room which they stepped into. Two more human men were waiting for them.

  “We’d like to talk to each of you in private if that is all right with you,” one of them said. He turned to Selina. “If you could come with me?”

  Selina exchanged a worried glance with Asten and followed the man into another room.

  “And you come with me,” the other man told Asten.

  Asten knew what this was. He was sitting in some type of cell with what appeared to be a mirror on one side. The man who had brought him into the room had given him some kind of injection and had left him alone for a good twenty minutes or so. Then he’d returned and affixed some type of electronic monitor around his hand and wrist and was now sitting behind him with some recording equipment.

  This was an interrogation. The injection was probably designed to break down his psychological defenses and prevent him from constructing anything in the way of convincing lies - and the device around his hand was there to monitor his pulse rate when responding to questions, to catch him out if, despite this, he did lie.

  He swallowed. He hadn’t been naïve enough to believe that the w
hole mission would go off without a hitch but he couldn’t believe that everything had gone wrong already. That he and Selina had failed before they had even begun.

  And that was the worst part. Selina was in another room like this one. He didn’t know what was going to happen to her. And he couldn’t protect her.

  The door opened and a Yloshi entered, with dark wrinkled skin and gangly arms. The gnome-like figure walked around the table in the middle of the cell and sat down in the last remaining seat, opposite Asten.

  “Good morning, Master Asten.”

  “Hello,” Asten replied, trying to keep the emotions he felt from coming out in his response. He didn’t quite manage it however, as his voice was obviously tight.

  Then he realized there was something he could do for Selina.

  “Look if this is about the fake ID,” he said, “then that was my idea. My wife knows nothing about it.”

  The Yloshi didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled out a pad and put it on the table.

  “Someone is systematically attacking the crews of certain ships that land in this port,” he said. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Asten shook his head. “No.”

  “Would the Phalamkians have anything to gain by sending you here?”

  “Yes.”

  Now Asten knew what the point of that injection had been. He was answering before he even realized it. He now noticed how tired he felt as well and suspected that the injection had something to do with that too.

  “Is something the matter?” his interrogator asked.

  “Yes,” Asten said, replying like an automaton.

  “Is it the effects of the injection?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you worried about your wife?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Would the United Frontier be likely to be drafting a plan for military action against this world?”

  Asten blinked. There hadn’t been much of a segue between those last two questions. “Yes.”

  “Do you approve of such action?”

  “Right now, I damn well approve.”

  “Are the Alandrans likely to contribute much overall to a United Frontier intervention task force?” There was not so much as a hint in the interrogator’s voice that he cared one way or the other about the heat of Asten’s reply.

  “Probably not,” Asten muttered.

  “Are the Phalamkians likely to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the Calae?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Are the Cirtani?”

  “Probably.”

  Through hooded eyes, Selina gazed at the Yloshi sitting across from her.

  She felt tired. And sick. And, she realized, she felt incredibly angry. This was wrong and she knew it. She felt it in the core of her being. She and Asten had flown into the system broadcasting a fake ID, true enough, but that was it. That was all. They hadn’t committed any other crimes and even if the local authorities realized what it was they were up to, there was no crime in that either. Looking for a missing person wasn’t espionage and there was no way in hell the Imraec Tarc government could legally charge them with it.

  Her hands trembled. “This is a violation,” she managed, fighting back tears. “You have no right to hold us here like this without telling us -”

  “Would the Hie’shi naval command approve of delaying military action to await the outcome of your mission here?” the Yloshi asked.

  Selina leaned forward, sighing. Once again, her interrogator seemed oblivious to her outburst. In fact, he seemed disinterested in anything she said apart from the answers she gave to his endless series of closed questions. She wanted to protest against what these people were doing, to fight for her rights with everything she had but she could no longer find the energy. And now, the tears she’d been holding back throughout the interview broke free and slid down her cheeks.

  “No,” she said in answer to the last question. Which question it had been, she no longer knew. She’d lost track of how many she’d been asked.

  “Have more agents been sent here?”

  “No. I don’t know.” Selina shrugged. “No.”

  “Could any Frontier nation contribute its entire naval capacity to an intervention effort against Imraec Tarc?”

  Selina shook her head. “No.”

  “Do the Phalamkians still hold three former Levarc Dreadnoughts in joint possession with the Felariam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your father retired?”

  “No.”

  “Is the Adopted Lady Erama capable, in your estimation, to now take full command of the Phalamkian navy should such a need arise?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you received the standard inoculations recommended for interstellar travel within the last five years?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the Hie’shi pushing to move military action against Imraec Tarc forward?”

  “I don’t know,” Selina sighed. “They probably would.”

  “Did you know anything about the actual crew of the real Drifter’s Folly?”

  “No.”

  “Are relations between the Phalamkians and the Hie’shi amiable?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Are Hie’shi capable of killing larger species without the use of any weapon?”

  “Probably.”

  “Does Drackson fei Araujion know you’re out here?”

  “Did you complete any of the optional engineering and interstellar physics courses at the Halean academy?”

  Asten was now struggling to keep his eyes open. “No,” he said, his throat dry and his voice devoid of tone.

  “Do you miss your mother and father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you visited Halea recently?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do many key personnel in the Phalamkian navy hold offices in the Kerali naval headquarters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Admiral Kalae currently serving in the Laonist navy?”

  “Yes.”

  “So she is not retired then?”

  “No.”

  “Does the United Frontier have any interest in Felkar?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Are the war time mine sweepers of the Phalamkian navy still operative?”

  “No.”

  “Do the isolationist groups on Duren Ramath concern you?”

  “No.”

  “Are -”

  “- the Calae and the Heg-shur honoring the new territorial agreements drawn up on Cirtan?”

  “I don’t know,” Selina murmured.

  “Is there any suspicion in the Phalamkian naval command about the disappearance of Deramar Ardeis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are your former resistance contacts involved to any great extent with preparations regarding the possible military action against Imraec Tarc?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you still close with Laila Casdan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Admiral Kalae?”

  “Yes.”

  “Admiral Draedon?”

  “In the event of military action by the United Frontier against Imraec Tarc, are you concerned about possible repercussions against the inhabitants of Katara?”

  “Of course I’m concerned,” Asten said.

  “Do you believe a Hie’shi may have been responsible for the death of the crew of the Drifter’s Folly?”

  “Who knows?” Asten muttered.

  “Are you -”

  Tears swelling in his eyes, Asten gripped the edge of the table with what was left of his dissipating strength and shouted. “Look! I have answered enough questions!”

  Then he slumped down, unable to speak. It embarrassed him but he didn’t care. He was exhausted too. And it was in that moment that obliviousness overcame him. He passed out.

  A minute or so later, the Ylosh
i in the other interrogation cell packed up his recording equipment, climbed up and left. The human male who’d been sitting behind Selina the entire time left as well.

  Alone, Selina slumped forward, resting her head in her arms. She cried a little and then she slept.

  11. Deramar Ardeis

  Sitting on the bunk in the small but cozy cabin he’d been given on the Lantern, Reece reviewed some notes he’d been making on a pad. Then the door chime sounded and he looked up.

  “It’s open,” he said.

  The door slid into the recess of the cabin wall. Carla was outside. “Hey, Reece.”

  Reece smiled. Carla tended to bring smiles out of him. “Hey.”

  “Mind if I come in?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  She entered the cabin, closed the door and sat down on the other end of the bunk. “What have you been doing?”

  Reece showed her the pad. “I’ve just been going over some of my observations on this group of weapons smugglers. Jotting down anything I can remember from my investigation before I tried to insert myself in the organization. And everything I can remember from the mine.”

  Carla frowned. “Jered Kareim. The chief operator. That wasn’t the name you gave me earlier.”

  “No. I think Mareis Draydan was an alias. Or something less innocent actually. I suspect there was some identity theft involved because there was a Mareis Draydan who had a license to oversee grade three mining operations. And as far as I can tell, he’s legitimate. However, reviewing everything I can remember about the weapons smuggling gang, I believe Jered Kareim, who’s a prominent member of the operation, shared enough similarities with Mareis Draydan in terms of age, physicality and appearance, that he’d probably be quite able to pass himself off as the man.”

  “So he could contract the specialists and equipment he needed for the mining operation?” Carla asked.

  “Exactly,” Reece said.

  Carla handed him back the pad.

  Reece tapped the screen. “I’m certain of it. Jered Kareim is the man we’re looking for.” He put the pad down. “Are we still arriving at Felkar in the morning?”

  “Barring an engine breakdown or any other unforeseen disasters.”

  “And then what?”