The Tabit Genesis (3 page)

Slowly, I managed to stand up.

‘You said the ship is ready?’ I asked.

‘I did,’ he answered.

I walked over to my gun. He looked away as I wiped the blood and spit from it.

‘Thanks,’ I said, hoping he’d never mention this again. I felt better – still horrible overall, but at least functional. It was about a twenty-minute trip to the spaceport, and I needed to piece together exactly what had happened last night before we got there.

‘Change your clothes,’ Dusty said. ‘You’re not stepping onto the
Breakaway
smelling like that.’

The most powerful crime syndicate in history was named after the destination star system of the
Tau Genesis
. While the fate of that mothership remains unknown, Vladric Mors used the tragedy of Eileithyia to make his cause immortal. Ceti was founded on his belief that the highborns who travelled to Tau Ceti today inhabit the pristine new world that the
Tabit Genesis
travellers were denied in Orionis. The name ‘Ceti’, once synonymous with hope and humanity, today embodies Vladric’s bitter hatred of highborn culture and the government that empowers it.

Eighty-five years since its founding, the strength of Ceti has grown to rival the House worlds. Its settlements are concentrated in the Great Belt, with the most strategically vital of these being Lethe, the largest moon of Zeus. Business at its main spaceport was always urgent, but now the scene was chaotic. Angry travellers queued in the shuttle boarding areas, quietly cursing the official reason for the departure lockdown. Sig Lareck, the Governing District Officer for the Lethe settlements, eyed the crowd. No one dared to meet his gaze as he paced behind the chair of a young, nervous spaceport technician.

‘How much longer?’ Sig demanded.

‘His gunship just left Brotherhood,’ the technician answered. ‘Flight time is eight minutes.’

On any approach from the Great Belt, Brotherhood Station emerged as a tiny, bright spool suspended between the banded hues of Zeus and the glittering canyon settlements of Lethe. Only one of the station’s four torus-shaped rings was rotating; the others were wrecked shells defiled by acts of war. Home to nearly two hundred thousand people, it was the largest station in the Outer Rim, and the epicentre of regional trade among the Zeus colonies.

Twice that number resided in the Lethe settlements themselves, the population composed mostly of miners, engineers, merchants, and geoscience professionals with their families. They lived comfortably, but worked hard for their earnings. Dropships hauling goods and personnel came and went every few minutes at the spaceport, serving the immense mega-industrial complex.

But the unplanned visit by the Ceti founder had thrown the clockwork operation into disarray. Anticipating flaring tempers, Sig had brought a formidable contingent of guards, with several mutants among them for maximum intimidation.

‘Tube traffic has been cleared,’ the technician said. ‘You’ll have a straight run to Delta Lab, no stops.’

With the transit system halted, the unexpected visit from Vladric Mors was now affecting the entire colony.

‘There’d better not be,’ Sig warned, straightening out his collar. ‘He’s in one of his moods.’

A coalition of corporations had spent nearly three decades building Brotherhood Station and the Lethe settlements. But it had taken less than five hours for it to fall under Ceti control. The Battle of Brotherhood transformed the drug cartel into a regional sovereignty, exposing the limits of Navy power beyond the Belt. It inspired a mass rejection of Orionis governance over the Outer Rim worlds by the Houses and privateer corporations, both of which renounced their citizenship. The lawless period that followed spawned skirmishes between Ceti, the Navy, corporations and privateers throughout the Belt. They called these the Independence Wars, the first armed conflict of the Orionis Age.

So began the legend of Vladric Mors. Sig Lareck had been by his side long before then.

‘Do you know what this is about, sir?’ the flustered technician asked. Sig could hear someone shouting through her earpiece. He empathised – a dropship pilot with a heavy load never wanted to be told he couldn’t land. But orders were orders.

‘That’s not your concern,’ Sig answered. ‘I don’t advise asking about it, either.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she answered.

Sig used his reflection in the armoured glass to straighten his uniform. The grey-black canyons beyond were hundreds of kilometres long, awash in the lights of settlements carved into the stone walls. By conquering Brotherhood, Vladric Mors had not only seized the richest known stock of metal ores in the Outer Rim, but he had preserved what was essentially unregulated, unrestricted colonialism in Orionis. The resulting explosion of privateer settlements turned Lethe into the crown port of call for the Belt. There were nineteen districts, each the size of a city and interconnected by a subterranean rail system that stretched across a third of the moon. The spaceport was District One, the capital, where Sig governed on behalf of Ceti.

Officially, the prestigious post was awarded in recognition of his decades of loyal service to the cartel. Sig wanted to stay at the helm of a corvette, but this was where Vladric needed him. The people who lived on Lethe and on Brotherhood owed their allegiance, willingly or not, to Ceti. In return, they lived in a free society where bloodlines offered no entitlements. There were no restrictions on breeding, nor any distinction between firstborns and ghosts. Vladric offered the people who lived here discounted food (plundered from corporation convoys), free radiation therapy (provided with equipment stolen from government clinics), and all the honest work they wanted (by threatening the corporations who bid for Ceti projects).

Sig noticed a bright blue light on the horizon.

‘Is that him?’ he asked, pointing.

‘Yes, sir,’ the technician said. ‘They’re cleared to land.’

‘Good,’ he said, facing the guards. ‘When he arrives, we’ll move directly to the tube entrance. Anyone gets in the way, disable them. No killing.’

As the gunship’s vectored thrusters settled the imposing craft onto the landing pad, Sig considered whether he was blessed or cursed to know Vladric Mors. On one hand, the relationship had made him a wealthy man. On the other, he always felt one misstep away from losing everything. There was a price for Vladric’s ‘friendship’. Whether that meant taking life or a bullet to keep it – Sig had done both – Vladric Mors expected nothing less of him.

The legend emerged from the airlock alone, wearing no protection other than the sheathed, crescent-shaped knives at his hips. He was a tall, dark man, with a shaved head and a long goatee that hung beneath a square jaw and sharp cheekbones. His black overcoat concealed broad, muscular shoulders, its upturned collars emblazoned with the insignia of Ceti. But for all his menacing appearance, his baby-blue eyes seemed absurdly out of place, more apt for a child than a king; perfect for concealing his intentions.

‘Brother,’ Sig said, crossing his chest with one arm.

‘Governor Lareck,’ Vladric growled, returning the salute. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting.’

‘Never,’ he answered. ‘Welcome to Lethe.’

Vladric grunted, ignoring the technician offering magnetic boots to aid navigation in the low-gravity environment. He had come wearing his own. ‘Let’s move.’

‘Right this way,’ Sig answered, as guards formed a spearhead in front of them. The halls connecting the buildings were lattices of transparent armour, providing a spectacular view of Zeus rising on the horizon. ‘The researchers have quite a show for you.’

‘So I heard,’ Vladric answered. People on the tram platform crowded closer for a glimpse, only to be shoved aside by the guards. ‘There’s been a change of plans.’

‘We’re ready for anything,’ Sig assured, as the group stepped into the waiting tram car.

Vladric withdrew into himself as the car accelerated. Sig knew he was troubled but didn’t press for an explanation.

After several minutes Vladric finally spoke.

‘Do you trust the men in your command?’ he asked.

‘With my life,’ Sig answered.

‘As did I,’ Vladric said.

‘“Did”?’

Vladric smiled weakly as the tram zipped underground.

‘We’ve been compromised,’ he said.

Sig’s heart sank.

‘Who?’ he asked. ‘How bad?’

‘Two fleet commanders, both with deep knowledge of the Plan.’

Sig nearly flinched as the tram rattled a bit.

‘Were they mine?’

‘No,’ Vladric assured. ‘I doubt you’ve ever met them.’

Sig could barely hide his relief.

‘Then who were they?’

‘It’s unimportant,’ Vladric muttered. ‘They’ve been dealt with.’

The Ceti leader demanded that everyone who signed onto the Plan had to be willing to die for it. As it was, the odds of surviving an attack on the most powerful ship ever built weren’t good to begin with.

‘What did they disclose?’

‘Our true numbers, and that we mean to attack the
Archangel
in port,’ Vladric said. ‘So much for surprise.’

‘Can we launch earlier?’

‘That depends on what your scientists have to show,’ Vladric said.

The Orionis government had approved funding for the Archangel project almost a century earlier. Its goal was to continue the Genesis mission by constructing a mothership capable of reaching Tau Ceti. At 21 light years away, the system held the only other known habitable world for humankind, and was the presumed settlement location of the original Tau Genesis colonists. The difference now was the real chance of encountering hostile alien civilisations, notably the Raothri. While people generally agreed on the importance of reuniting the last of Earth’s survivors, many believed it was beyond reach, and considered the
Archangel
a costly waste of valuable resources.

Building a ship that could withstand a Raothri attack was impossible. Yet the Navy argued that by the time the
Archangel
was ready to launch, human weapons and defence technology would have progressed enough to give the ship a fighting chance – at least against the capabilities the Raothri were known to possess when they took Earth.

Or so the rationale went. At first, the practical result of this theory was the biggest arms race since the Third World War, in which corporations used the
Archangel
as a test bed for new technologies that quadrupled construction costs. Many believed the money would have been better spent fortifying Inner Rim settlements and expanding central governance to the Belt. It was the most contentious political issue of a generation, almost as divisive as the One Child rule imposed by the Orionis government.

But the Battle of Brotherhood silenced the debate. The Navy’s inability to enforce Orionis law in the Outer Rim changed the
Archangel’s
mission. Instead of constructing a mothership to reunite humanity, Orionis was building a weapon that would cast a long shadow over the entire system.

‘You think they’ll attack us first?’ asked Sig.

Vladric’s eyes answered the question.

‘We will take that ship,’ he said, ‘or die trying.’

Slowing its breakneck speed, the tram approached the platform of Delta Lab. The sprawling facility was sixteen hundred metres beneath the surface, built inside an ancient magma chamber. This was the heart of Ceti’s research and development; it was also where most of the narcotics it sold were manufactured. Long assembly warehouses crewed by men and machines loomed beside the group as they exited the tram; many of the captains charged with hauling the product to distributors hovered nearby, supervising how the contraband was packaged before being stowed on their ships.

One of them broke away from his companions and began marching directly towards Vladric. The guards quickly intercepted, but he persisted.

‘Commander Mors, may I have a word?’ he said.

‘Mind your tone and stand aside,’ Sig snapped, catching a faint whiff of alcohol.

Vladric raised a hand.

‘What’s your name,
captain
?’ he said.

‘Lazrel, sir,’ the dishevelled man said. Desperation was in his eyes. ‘Atticus Lazrel.’

Sig would have warned that this was a bad time, but it was too late.

‘Well, Captain Lazrel,’ Vladric said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘Sir, I’ve served Ceti for years,’ Atticus said. ‘I’ve never questioned anything asked of me. Not until now.’

‘What have we asked that imposes such a burden?’

Released by the guards, Atticus straightened up.

‘There’s a food convoy en route to Ironbound Prospect,’ he said. ‘I’ve been given orders to raid it.’

The Prospect was an asteroid colony on the Inner Rim side of the Belt. Although Navy patrols generally thinned the further one travelled from Eileithyia, any sortie inside the Belt was risky. The burn time from Zeus to Hera was three weeks; the return trip could take twice as long, depending on what was stolen and how much fuel remained. If Atticus Lazrel was instructed to target this convoy, it was either because he was a highly skilled captain, or because his commanding officer was intentionally setting him up to fail.

Sig had a strong suspicion it was the latter.

‘Ironbound,’ Vladric began, ‘is the property of Merckon Industries, correct?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Atticus said. ‘They get three shipments per year. The first was lost to privateers, the second to engine failure. I’ve been ordered to take the third … Ironbound can’t produce its own food. I have family there. They’ve been rationing for weeks and will starve if that shipment doesn’t get through.’

Atticus waited for sympathy.

‘Sir, my
firstborn
is there,’ he implored. ‘Vladric, please.’

Sig held his breath.

‘You realise those supplies are needed here,’ Vladric said, without a single trace of emotion. ‘And that Merckon refuses to negotiate a trade agreement with us?’

‘They can’t resupply,’ Atticus insisted. ‘That should be enough reason to consider other options.’

A smile surfaced beneath Vladric’s blank stare.

‘You see, Sig?’ he said. ‘Do you trust the men in your command?’

‘With my life,’ Sig repeated.

‘Would you trust this one?’

‘No,’ Sig answered.

Vladric turned his glare back to Atticus.

‘Don’t despair, Captain,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring your family here, and share their firstborn food with us ghosts as well.’

Atticus looked relieved.

‘Thank you, Command—’

‘I’ll also send more firepower to ensure our victory and the safe transport of your loved ones to Brotherhood, where they will begin their new lives with Ceti – after you’ve been executed for treason.’