Edge of Redemption (A Star Too Far Book 3) (3 page)

The mission was simple enough, an escort job there and back to the Winterthur system. The map showed it in the absolute middle of nowhere, the very edge of colonized space. He searched for more details but found nothing else. He shrugged and kept browsing the tablet.

“Mr. Grace?” a female voice chirped.

“Yes?” he said, startled.

An olive-skinned female Lieutenant stood before him with a crisp smile. On one of her cheeks she wore a nanite tattoo that shifted between colors in a simulated sunset. She was stocky on the shoulders with legs like a dancer. Her brown hair was tied back into a ball tight enough to crack a window. “I’m Lieutenant Ali Shay, your XO.”

William glanced around. “Walk with me, Lieutenant.”

The pair moved through the passage in silence and finally exited past the pair of sentinel Marines. Neither one looked any happier, just a bit more weary. When William finally stepped into the larger corridor, he pointed to a storage area and sat down on a stout crate.

“What the hell is going on?” William ran his fingers through his hair and looked up to Ali. “I walked into a dozen flag Admirals resigning.”

She looked around with soft eyes and leaned against a large shipping container. “There’s been some disagreements.”

“Disagreements be damned, I thought they’d pull out pistols and duel. What is it about?”

“Rumor is, the UC only wants an Earth-born command staff. They were running the others into nonessential tasks.”

William shook his head and looked down. Not this again. The time when they’d need every bit of force and expertise and there was a rift. They couldn’t afford it, not now.

“What news from the Hun front?” William asked.

Ali shook her head. “I don’t know, there’s been nothing back yet.”

William nodded and looked around. The last he’d heard, the UC was sending out fleets to both sides of space. One side to defend against a possible Sa’Ami invasion and the other against the Harmony Worlds. He’d already tangled with the Harmony Worlds fleeing Redmond and the Sa’Ami at Bosporus. It was almost a guarantee there’d be a fight that way.

“And from the Sa’Ami front?” William asked.

Ali cocked her head. “You were there?”

“Humor me.”

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Nothing official yet.”

“Unofficially?”

Ali looked to the floor and back up to William. “They say we won, sealed the front.”

William smirked and shook his head. “Well, it was a helluva fight, but we came out on top.” He left out the details about the Sa’Ami barrier, and especially about the breach.

A buzz followed by a beep sounded from William’s tablet. He slid it out and checked the screen. In a split second he acknowledged the message and tucked it back into his bag. “Meet at the shipyard nexus, 0900 tomorrow. See if you can track down an Engineer named Ebenezer Huron.”

Ali looked to him with a slight smile. “Ebenezer?”

“That’s right,” William said and disappeared into the flow of people.

*

T
he farther edges of the station were rough like a fresh volcanic eruption. Seams and edges were coated in a coarse flexible insulation. Row upon row of wedge-shaped containers were tucked in as tightly as they could be.

William found him near a pile of baggage. “Admiral.”

Admiral Dover gave a somber snort and patted a long case. “Sit.”

William sat. Admiral Dover stared at the floor and squeezed his hands together. It seemed as if he was about to speak but just couldn’t find the words. Finally he let out a deep breath. “Outmaneuvered. Plain and simple. Shit stomped and I didn’t even see it coming. I was the most senior Admiral not born on Earth. Should’ve known. So here’s how it is.” Admiral Dover looked up to William. “You’ll get a ship, a nice little brig, and they’ll give you a crew of nothing but people born off Earth. Sound about right?”

William nodded and watched as the Admirals face turned red. Sweat pooled on his brow.

“Then they’ll send you off somewhere that is safe, secure, and not a chance that you might run off with a precious starship. To top it off, the ship has an additive cell barely big enough to print a new toilet seat. So you couldn’t refit if you wanted to, right?”

William felt a lump growing in his throat.

“Oh, it gets better,” the Admiral said, “if you’re not back in time, the ship will disassemble.”

“Disassemble? Why give me a ship at all?” William clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms.

Admiral Dover smiled. His eyes softened and he sat back with a thud. The mass of his body rested against a slate gray container. “Patrons, maybe? And they lost a good many command officers engaging the Sa’Ami. You have combat experience and they need it. They’ll just see how trustworthy you are.”

William stared at his hands and flexed his fingers. The augmetic hand felt exactly like the real one. He still couldn’t get used to the augmetic nerves even if it felt the same. An honest man on the street couldn’t even tell them apart. “What are you going to do, Admiral?”

Admiral Dover looked up with a sparkle in his eye. “You can take the Admiral out of a fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the Gruffalo.” He stood and his knees popped and rattled. “Now go. You’ll not make any friends if they see you talking to an old has-been. Just remember, you’ll be a long way from home, keep your options sharp.”

A loud bang and a shudder shook against the containers. A gantry crane scooped up a yellow container with the letters CONDI stenciled on the side.

“I’m on that freighter. Once they’ve got the crates, I’m out,” Admiral Dover said as he kicked a piece of luggage. He nodded to William. “Good luck.”

William felt a pang in his chest and shook the Admiral’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

He wondered if the Admiral got him that ship. The Admiral embodied what he stood for, a United Colonies, not a Colonial defense force working with an Earth defense force. For now, he decided, he would focus on his mission. There was an oath.

He turned and walked out without looking back.

––––––––

“P
rofit,” Samson Kretikos said slowly. “Profit. It is why we exist.
Think
about it. If there is no profit, there is no Core.” His gaze turned and swept down the length of the alloy-topped table. He paused at each executive and held the gaze long enough to connect with each person. His eyes were intense, rich, alive.

Emilie Rose looked back and felt relieved when the eyes passed. She sat in silence with all of her netlinks turned off. One did not remain connected to the net when Samson Kretikos was speaking.

“You’ve all seen the projections,” Samson said. “Ms. Ndebele, please.”

A woman with dark skin stood. “All three AIs are in agreement: there will be a retraction. This is regardless of how the kinetics go. Sentiment on Earth is for focusing on defense, regardless of the outcomes.”

“Thank you, Amahle.” Samson smiled. “We’re getting out of the colony business, folks. Defense. Defense. Defense. Already that division is seeing spectacular growth.”

“Mr. Kretikos,” Emilie said. Eyes snapped to her and the room shifted tone. Shit, she thought, my timing was off. “
All
of the colonies?”

Samson glanced to his side and returned his eyes to Emilie. “Yes.” His tone sounded distracted, bordering on annoyed.

Emilie smiled and continued. “What will be done with them?”

“Miss, uh, Rose?” Samson’s tone rose. “I suggest you contact the Colony division, they can fill you in on the relevant details. Now, if we can—”

“Will we be shipping everything back?”

Samson set an ivory shafted fountain pen on the table. He cocked his head slightly and leveled his gaze. “Get to the point.”

Perfect, she thought, I’ve got his attention. “I want those assets.”

Samson’s face softened and a slight curve of a smile rose on the edge of his lips. “I’m listening.”

Emilie licked her lips. “Group eight only. Ten percent above transport cost. Library license for five years. Option for Core asset transfer after three years.”

Samson clicked his teeth together. “Amahle, what’s the projected time until return?”

“Eight years.”

Emilie’s cheeks grew warm. She didn’t have much time—either she secured it now or it would go into negotiations. A labyrinth of accountants and lawyers. It’d take her longer than eight years to buy it. But if she could get it now. Up the odds. “Military library license also.”

“Full?” Samson asked.

“Full.”

Samson stared back. His face was taut and locked as if painted on. The only thing that moved was his eyes, they squinted a barest fraction of an inch up and down. “Cash. And Core retains twenty percent.”

Shit. Emilie forced herself to not swallow. If he saw the cue he’d know she was overstretched. “Cash,” she said.

“Claire, market value on group eight?” Samson asked.

The financial AI responded, “Four point nine.”

“Kevin, get it drawn up, end of the day,” Samson said to a balding man.

Emilie became aware that all eyes were on her. Every single Executive in the room was staring. Some with looks of envy, others with curiosity. She basked in it. Worries danced in her mind as she crunched numbers. Could she sell everything and cover it? The beach house, her second apartment on the Seine, the timeshare on Haven. Gone.

Enough, she thought. It would be enough.

The meeting wrapped up shortly after and the images of those around her disappeared. All except for Samson Kretikos. Emilie had never been alone with him, in person or via image. The room around her felt cold, almost antiseptic.

“Harvard. Goldman Business School. Then Core. Why go?”

“Profit.”

Samson nodded slowly. He grabbed the fountain pen and tapped it on the table. The famous fountain pen, a man who wrote things down in an age where nothing was written. A show of wealth and taste. He opened the cap and scribbled on something before him. The sound was scratchy and rhythmic.

“You know this is a shooting war now, right?”

Emilie nodded. Of course she knew. A part of her felt touched by his paternal worry. Or was it worry for his assets? “There’s profit in risk.”

“Risk can get you shot. Don’t go playing some two bit weapons dealers in the ass of the universe.” He stared at her and the paternal look was gone. Samson’s gaze was a hard look. “I envy you.”

She didn’t know how to respond. The man who was the CEO of the largest corporation in UC space envied her. Was it possible? The man who had everything. Or did he? She did have something he didn’t: the ability to walk away.

A moment later he nodded and his image disappeared, leaving her alone in a cold room. She stood and walked to the window. The adrenaline started to flow and the gravity of the deal hit her. Her hands shook and she felt like she was going to throw up. The edges of her vision clouded up as the excitement faded. She loved that adrenaline rush after a big deal. Everything she worked her entire life for was now on the line.

Outside a sleety snow pelted down silently onto the window. The skyline beyond it was obscured. Only ghostly shadows of white and gray marked where Chicago stood.

She threw out her first plan. There was no way she could afford first rate protection with a proper UC charter. She’d have to go on the edge and find someone who had a ship and a touch of muscle to go with it. She didn’t see much chance that the war would come to Winterthur: it was as far away from the two fronts as it could be. But just in case. Plus she wanted to have an exit plan.

She picked through her contacts and settled on a name. Corporate listed him as a part-time contractor for shifting black assets. Recently out of prison, according to the news. She liked that, out of prison meant cheap ad eager. She punched his tab and waited.

“Yes?” a baritone voice asked. Wind whipped in the background with the sound of horns and yelling.

“Mustafa?”

“If you want to speak, come to Istanbul and we’ll speak,” the voice said with the noises dimmed behind. The sounds were still present but muted as if he’d stepped into an entryway.

“I’ll be there in three hours.”

“Ahh.” He sucked air through his teeth and sounded surprised that someone actually took him up on a deal. “And who do I owe the pleasure?”

“Emilie Rose.”

“Of Core?”

“Of Rose Incorporated,” she said quickly, making up a name.

“See you in three hours.”

She hung up as she walked out of the conference room. Word spread quickly throughout the building and it took longer to get out than she planned. Her staff came by to wish her well. She smiled politely enough and continued out into the sleet.

On the elevator ride up she focused on the numbers. Her tablet was a scatter of figures. She would make it, just barely, but be almost completely and totally broke. If she didn’t secure contracts on Winterthur, then paying things like building rents and wages would become troublesome. But at least she could make and sell weapons. That never went out of style.

Istanbul was one shuttle across and an elevator ride down. It bloomed below the elevator like an orange flower. The setting sun scattered the entire city in shades of orange and black. The Sea of Marmara was like a sheet of gold south of the city.

On the ground she hailed a cab and called Mustafa. He sounded more formal, less surprised. The cab delivered her to the address. It was a small restaurant with seating on the edge of the water. The styles were old, or at least designed to look old.

She found him sitting at an iron rimmed table. His skin was a touch dark with a thick mop of black hair. A shift in color above his lip marked where a mustache had been. His clothing was plain but stylish.

Still trying to look European, she thought. “You’re well dressed, Mr. Mustafa.”

Mustafa stood and smiled widely, showing a set of bright teeth. “And you know how to compliment. Please sit, they have amazing clams here.”

Emilie sat and stared out to the water. It was as dark as it could be with twenty million people living on the shores. “Are you available?”

He finished his sip of wine and slowly nodded. “How long?”