Death to the Imperium (Imperium Cicernus) (13 page)

Glitz
stroked his chin. “The East Galaxy Company, you say?” So the shipment of
medical lasers had been delivered by his old company, the one owned by Ozytan.
And Ozytan had told them that his profits from the company helped to fund his
military movements, so in a way they would be doing the Imperium a favour by
stealing the equipment…

“What
cut would you be looking for?” Glitz said.

“Standard
rate. 10%.”

Glitz
nodded at Doland, sighing slowly. “We’ll do it.”

Spaceman
grinned. “Fantastic. I assume you know the location of Hansea? It’s in the
Silver Sector—the planet’s part of the Helliam System. The hospital itself is located
almost in the centre of the Health Zone. You’ll be likely to find the equipment
in the main surgery equipment store. Failing that, you can use one of the
computer terminals to check the purchase log. I’ll send you the laser serial
number.”

“Fine.”

“I’d
better leave you now. I’ve heard rumours of a collapsed gold mine on Sygmus. There
might be a job in it for my old friend Jocka the Digger. Good luck! You can
wire me the 10% after the mission—if you’re successful, of course. Have fun!
Spaceman out.”

“Hydra
out.”

It
didn’t take long to travel to the Silver Sector, and Glitz spent the entire
journey wondering if he had made a mistake in accepting the job. But there was
no turning back now. Spaceman was in charge of nearly all illicit trade across
the galaxy, taking 10% of every job. If you let him down one too many times, he
would simply stop giving you work.
But maybe that’s not a problem
, Glitz
thought.
Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if I stopped getting work from
Spaceman I’d be forced into doing something honest
.

But
he decided that he would carry out the job on Hansea. With half a million
credits, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting work for a long time…

They
reached the vicinity of the planet. It was a strange looking world. There was a
divide almost exactly down the centre, splitting the eastern and western
hemispheres. Half of the planet was covered in snow and ice, and the other half
was hot and barren. The two halves were demarcated by a strip of verdant
country.

“The
planet of extremes,” Doland said, quoting from an article he was reading on the
Net. “
Half of the planet is inhospitably hot, and the other half is unacceptably
cold. The strip of land in the centre is called the Health Zone; it is a
habitable area filled with thousands of private hospitals. Patients from all
over the Imperium visit the planet; it is famous for medical excellence.
”

“Any
Imperial hospitals?”

He
scanned the text. “A few. Luckily, the Abigail Smythe Hospital is private.”

“Thank
space for that.” Glitz paused, staring at the bizarre planet. “How could a
world like this ever come about?”

“A
terraforming experiment that went wrong. According to the
Encyclopaedia Imperia
,
the world was originally supposed to become a paradise planet.” He scrolled
down through the article, quoting loosely again: “
The original settlers
around two hundred years ago used the now-defunct technique of particle
excitement
… blah, blah, blah…
alter the weather conditions without the necessity
to move the planet closer to the sun. But the technique was only partially
successful, leaving the small belt of green land
, etc…etc…
Of course,
the developers had spent vast amounts of money on the terraforming process, and
they did not want the planet to go to waste. It was clearly unusable as a
paradise world, so it became a centre of medicine.
”

“So
where’s the hospital?”

“Right
in the middle of the Health Zone.” Doland pressed a button, and a flashing
light appeared on the scanner. “That red light is the location. That’s where we
need to go.”

“Fine.
You ready? Let’s go.”

Glitz
contacted the OTC, and requested permission to enter orbit around the planet,
so they could land. He explained that one of his crew was seriously ill, and he
needed urgent treatment. The man in charge of landing permits pointed out with
an air of snobbishness that medical treatment on Hansea was invariably
expensive.

“Are
you saying that I’m poor?” Glitz said.

“No,
sir. I am simply suggesting that perhaps a man who is driving a rundown Box
2000 ship might not have the funds required for treatment in the Health Zone.”

“If
you must know, I have a credit bar here worth fifty thousand credits.” Glitz
flashed the silver bar in front of the camera. “That’s enough to be get things
started, right?”

The
man’s demeanour changed. “Of course, sir. My apologies. Permission granted to
enter planetary orbit and to land if you so wish.”

“Well,
thank you!”

Glitz
deactivated the communications line and grinned at Doland. They had permission
to enter orbit around the planet, and the man hadn’t even taken their names or
credentials. Every planet had a different space traffic policy, and Glitz had
been worried about giving out his name. But now it would be easy for them to land
near the hospital, steal the medical lasers, and fly away again. Then they
could dump the
Wreck
in a scrapyard somewhere—maybe even back on Cronor—and
enjoy the one million credit profit. No one would ever find out.

“Did
you find out anything about the lasers?” Doland said.

Glitz
accessed the file that had been sent by Spaceman, and summarised the
information for Doland. It was the supporting documentation for the delivery of
the equipment, evidently stolen from the servers of the East Galaxy Company. The
lasers had been delivered two days ago. They were called Cellzers, which Glitz
thought was a silly name. The item specification revealed the nature of the
equipment; Cellzers were cutting tools used in surgical procedures. Instead of
actually slicing into the skin of a patient, Cellzers would create an
artificial opening by shifting around the skin cells, allowing the surgeon
entry into the body. After the operation was complete, the Cellzer would seal
up the wound without leaving any scarring. There had been similar devices
around for decades, but the Cellzer was the first not to leave even a
superficial scar.

“Sounds
high-tech,” Doland said. “And profitable…”

“Right.
I’m taking us into orbit now.”

Glitz
had become fully accustomed to the idiosyncrasies present in the ship’s design,
and he could operate it easily, compensating for any hardware faults. He
brought the ship into a perfect orbit with ease.

“So
here’s the plan.” Glitz paused, checking the structure in his head before
confirming that it was sound. “Right, OK. First, we land on the planet and go
into the Abigail Smythe Hospital. Our story is that you’ve been infested with a
Gargonian brain parasite, and need urgent treatment.”

Doland
let his eyelids and mouth droop; a line of saliva dropped from his lips.

“Uncanny.
Once we’re in the hospital, we make a break for it and enter one of the staff changing
rooms. There’s bound to be some spare uniforms lying around. So we change into
a uniform each, and then travel down in one of the elevators to the main
storage area. We pick up the Cellzers—they’ll probably be pretty heavy, but
we’ll manage—and return to the
Wreck
. Then we get out of here as quickly
as possible.”

“Got
it.”

“Ready?”
Glitz said.

Doland
nodded, and Glitz prepared for landing.

Glitz
and Doland were standing in a lush green square, which was part of the
courtyard of the Abigail Smythe Hospital. Glitz didn’t know who Abigail Smythe
was, but many modern hospitals were named after exemplary scientists from
antiquity. The courtyard made it clear that it was a private hospital; Glitz
wondered vaguely how much treatment would cost in such a luxurious place. A
crystal fountain stood in the middle of the square, surrounded by benches
carved out of fragrant limewood. The white brick path leading to the hospital
was edged by excellent statues.

The
two men followed the white path towards the hospital. The building itself was a
stunning design, which clearly followed the classic architectural principles
laid out by Sir Delphon Bruneletti in his excellent book
Principles for a
Classical Future
. Neither Glitz nor Doland knew the first thing about
architecture, but they both recognised the splendour of the fine building.

They
entered through the main door, and stepped into a finely decorated reception
hall. The two men walked along the flagged stone floor and approached the
reception desk. A blonde woman was sitting at the desk filing her nails
discreetly, but she put away the nail file and smiled when she saw the
visitors.

“Good
morning!” she said politely, her golden hair illuminated by sunlight streaming
through the glass roof. “Welcome to Abigail Smythe Hospital. May I take the
name of the patient?”

She
politely averted her eyes from Doland, who was slumped against Glitz with his
eyes rolling and his tongue hanging out. He was giving a very good impression
of a man with a Gargonian parasite, even though Glitz thought he might be
overdoing it slightly.

“His
name’s Ral Burnote. I’m afraid it’s a pretty bad case of parasite infection.”

The
woman typed into her computer terminal, then looked up at Glitz. “Thank you.”
She waved a hand over a sensor, and a glowing white shape appeared. It was a
kind of stretcher that seemed to be made of light. “You can let go now,” she
explained.

Glitz—hoping
that Doland wouldn’t give himself away—let go of him slowly. As he did so,
Doland began to rise slowly into the air, as if carried by an invisible force.
The force lifted him, like some great puppet, onto the glowing stretcher. Then
the stretcher began to move away from the reception desk.

“Please
follow the stretcher,” the receptionist said. “It will lead you to the
appropriate ward. The Abigail Smythe Hospital wishes you the very best of
future health.”

“Thanks.”

Glitz
still felt ridiculously nervous; it had been a while since he had been on a
job. But everything seemed to be going smoothly. They followed the stretcher as
it led them away from the main reception area, and along a white corridor,
which was labelled
CRANIOSURGERY DEPARTMENT
. Glitz noticed a door marked
STAFF CHANGING ROOM
and tapped Doland.

“In
here!”

Doland
leapt off the stretcher and followed Glitz inside the room. It was a small room
with lines of pegs and changing cubicles. The room was empty.
Thank space
for that
, Glitz thought. He began to open the nearby lockers one by one,
searching for…

“Here
we go.”

Inside
the locker, there was a pile of sealed plastic bags, each containing something
made from white fabric. Glitz pulled out two bags and checked the sizes. They
were both marked “Medium: Single Use”.

“Put
one of these on.”

Glitz
and Doland each dived into a separate cubicle. Glitz pulled off his leather
jacket and jeans, pulling on the white medical clothes. It was a one-piece
garment that looked almost like a white jacket and trousers, except that the
arms and legs were short. The texture of the thing felt strange, because it was
made of recyclable plasthyne. Doctors had been ordered to start wearing these
type of clothes, which were called “singles”, after the terrible TRPT pandemic thirty
years previously, which had been the scourge of the galaxy.

After
the two men had changed, they hid their old clothes in one of the lockers and
left the changing rooms. The floating stretcher was no longer in the corridor;
Glitz guessed that it must have either dissolved or returned to reception. He
turned to Doland.

“Right.
Remember what Spaceman said? The Cellzers should be in the main equipment
store, rather than in a specific department. So we need to find an elevator.”

“I
saw one on the way here, just outside the corridor.”

At
that moment, two doctors wearing singles appeared and marched down the
corridor. Glitz froze, and nodded stiffly in greeting as they passed. The
doctors ignored them, apparently lost in their own conversation. Glitz and
Doland exhaled slowly, and left the corridor.

They
stepped into the elevator, which was panelled with limewood. A female digital
face appeared in the gilded mirror.

“Good
morning. Which floor do you require?”

“Main
storage,” Glitz said, unsure of the floor.

“Certainly,
sir. Please provide your security clearance code.”

Space
, Glitz thought.
Where’s Tekka when you need him?
He racked his brains, trying to figure
out what to do. If they gave the wrong code, they risked attracting the
attention of security. But if they didn’t enter any code at all, they wouldn’t
be able to enter the storage area.

Then
a nurse entered the elevator. She had dark hair and she was dressed in blue
plasthyne scrubs. She frowned at Doland, and smiled at Glitz.

“Second
floor,” she said.

Glitz
touched her arm. “Er… my name’s Dr. Glitz. I’m new here. I wonder if you can
help me? I don’t seem to have security clearance for the main storage floor… I
don’t suppose you have an access code?”

The
woman smiled. “I’ll swap it for your contact chip.”

“It’s
a deal.”

“OK,
the override password is ‘Velvet Nights’, you know, after the chocolates. But
don’t go telling everyone. It’s bad for security. You’re supposed to have the
full ID scan and everything. But us nurses always forget our clearance cards.”

Glitz
winked. “I won’t tell a soul.”

The
elevator doors slid open when they reached the second floor.

“Aren’t
you forgetting something?” the nurse said.

“What?”

“Your
chip.”

“Oh,
of course.” Glitz reached into the pocket of his single, into which he had
dropped his wallet. He removed a contact chip, and passed it to the nurse.

The
nurse grinned. “I’ll call you.”

With
that, she turned on her heel and walked primly out of the lift, turning to wink
again at Glitz before the doors closed. Doland glanced at Glitz with some
jealousy. He really couldn’t understand what women saw in the man. To be able
to walk into a lift, persuade an attractive nurse to give you security
clearance… and then for her to ask for your number… Doland had never had an
experience that came remotely close.

“Take
us to the storage floor,” Glitz said.

“Certainly.
Please provide security clearance.”

“Override:
Velvet Nights.”

There
was a slight pause, and Glitz’s stomach lurched slightly. What if it was the
wrong code? What if security came charging in to arrest them?

“Override
accepted.”

The
lift began to move down, and Glitz wiped his brow. A few seconds later, the
doors slid open again, and they stepped into what looked like a darkened
warehouse. A sensor, responding to their presence, activated the lights. As the
gravity globes hanging above the storage bay flickered on, the men realised just
how big the place was. It had to be almost the size of a gravity-ball pitch.

Glitz
wandered over to a computer terminal, and tried to access it. But the system
kept locking him out, because he didn’t have the required clearance. Once
again, he found himself wishing for Tekka’s presence. No doubt, the man would
have been able to hack the computer in a matter of seconds. As a last resort,
he typed “Velvet Nights” into the system, and laughed aloud when he was granted
access. The security in the hospital was appalling, but Glitz wasn’t
complaining.

He
managed to activate the virtual interface, and a hologram of a woman appeared.
It was the same woman that had been the face of the computer inside the
elevator.

“Good
morning. How can I help you, sir?”

“We’re
looking for a shipment.” Glitz checked the notes on his pocket tablet.
“Shipment number 00392. A consignment of medical lasers—Cellzers.”

“Shipment
registered as returned to manufacturer. Shipment number 00392 was collected thirty
minutes ago by a courier from T&L.”

“Space!”

So
the lasers had already been collected; they were too late. Glitz hadn’t thought
to ask Spaceman when the Cellzers were due to be picked up. He was so angry
that he kicked a nearby shelf; with a crash, a few boxes fell to the floor.

“So
where’s the shipment now?” Doland said.

“T&L
use the rail network almost exclusively,” the computer explained, “so in all
likelihood the cargo is travelling towards the spaceport via the grav-train.”

Glitz’s
heart leapt. So maybe it wasn’t too late. There was still a chance of picking
up the lasers before they were returned to the East Galaxy Company. It was
still possible for them to make the one million credits after all.

“Come
on! We’ve got no time to lose! We’ve got to catch up with that train!”

Glitz
and Doland ran back to the
Wreck
, which was still parked in a transport
bay near the hospital. The new plan was risky, but the prize was worth the
risk. With trembling hands, Glitz began to prepare the ship for ascent.

“Are
you sure this is a good idea?” Doland wrung his hands together. “It seems… I
don’t know… maybe the traffic authority will try to blast us out of the sky.”

“Why
in the name of space would they do that? We’ve got landing permission,
remember. All we need to do is catch up with the train, climb inside, pick up the
Cellzers, and get the hell out of here.”

“I
don’t know…”

Doland
still looked uneasy. Glitz rolled his eyes, and started to lower the ship.
There was no time to wait around. If the train had left over thirty minutes
ago, it could be arriving at the spaceport any minute. As they rose up higher,
they could begin to make out the grav-train tracks. There were only two tracks,
which ran adjacently in a straight line from one end of the Health Zone to the
other. As they got nearer, Glitz spotted the train.

“There
it is!”

It
couldn’t be more than sixty miles from the spaceport; they would have to be
quick. They flew over the Health Zone, passing hundreds of hospitals, as they
followed the line of the tracks. A few patients in the garden of one hospital
glanced at them with curiosity; it was unusual for a ship to be flying so low
across the planet.

“Nearly
there,” Glitz said.

They
had finally caught up with the grav-train, and Glitz set the controls so they
would travel at a constant speed above the vehicle, keeping pace with it. Luckily
the tracks were extremely straight, which made them easy to follow.

Glitz
pulled out what looked like a length of metal rope from under the ship’s
console. On each end of the rope, there was a small cube. “Atom clamps. Took
them from Alyce’s pack when she wasn’t looking. She’d have killed me if she
knew. Here, come and give me a hand.”

They
left the flight deck and headed to the ship’s hatch. Glitz opened the door, and
air began to rush in, creating a deafening sound. He fixed one of the atom
clamps to the floor by the exit hatch; it held tight, adhering to the
molecules.

Aiming
carefully, Glitz threw the other end of the rope out of the hatch. It shattered
a skylight in the roof of one of the train carriages, and the other atom clamp
stuck fast to the floor of the carriage. Now, the metal rope between the atom
clamps was vertical, connecting their ship with the train carriage.

“Follow
me,” Glitz said.

He
swallowed, and then, taking hold of the metal rope, slid down from the ship
into the train carriage. “Come on!” he shouted.

Doland
didn’t plan on going anywhere. He was perfectly happy where he—

The
ship jolted, throwing him out of the hatch. He managed to keep hold of the
rope, and he slid into the carriage.

“Good
jump.”

Glitz
took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He had to think straight. Where would
the shipment be? He glanced around the carriage. The train was clearly owned by
T&L, because it was filled with boxes, letters and parcels. But none of the
mail had been sorted yet. The lasers could be in any carriage…

His
eyes alighted on a huge crate, which was marked
00392
. He laughed out
loud, feeling almost like someone who had just won the Galactic Lottery. “What
are the chances of that?” He pointed at the crate. “Come on, let’s lift it and
get out of here.”