Star Road (4 page)

Ahead, a bright glow.

The transport base.

Mobius Central.

Named, Rodriguez guessed, because the first scientists who found it couldn’t figure out how the hell the Star Road—seemingly an actual structure—could somehow stretch its spidery strands throughout the galaxy ... and maybe beyond.

Totally impossible.

It beat all quantum physics into a pulp.

What was it made of?

What powered it?

All unknown. Even after over a decade of using the Road, humans had unraveled only a small part of the mystery of this impossible structure.

Impossible. Just like a Mobius strip.

The process of building a road map was slow, a lot of trial and error. Especially error, at first. A lot of vessels ... and good men and women ... gone and never heard from again.

A detailed map of the system could change everything.

But so far, at least, no such map existed.

Would Rodriguez’s mission yield some answers?

He didn’t have a clue.

~ * ~

The dome ahead started to fill the porthole view.

A giant bubble of light revealing the people and areas inside. On one side, a row of airlocks; on the other, terminals to access the Road.

A small beep sounded from the speaker above Rodriguez, and the holovid winked on, displaying the smiling face of a shuttle hostess.

Then:

“Attention travelers. Our shuttle is about to dock at the Mobius Central airlock. Please check to make sure your seat harness is firmly buckled and that you have no loose articles near you. We will be touching down on the surface of Pluto in five minutes.”

Rodriguez checked that the harness, a belt and a pair of cross-shoulder straps, were tight.

Then a voice. The girl, the Chippie.

“That’s funny.”

Rodriguez turned to her, seeing more clearly now. Short, dark hair. And blue-green eyes that glowed catlike in the pale light.

“What is?”

“Why’d they name the planet after a dog? Not even a real dog.”

And despite what lay ahead—the responsibility, the unknown, the sheer adventure of it—Rodriguez laughed. He decided not to tell her that Pluto was also the Roman god of the underworld.

The shuttle began its easy glide as it made its way into the airlock chamber.

~ * ~

Annie Scott watched the load lifter raise a massive metal crate and lower it into the SRV’s cargo hold.

At first, it looked like the crate couldn’t possibly fit. And then, as if to force it, the operator bumped the crate into the undercarriage of the Star Road vehicle.

“Whoa! Bloody hell!” a man standing close to Annie yelled. “Take it the fuck easy! Jee-zuz. Who’s in charge here?” His accent was a thick Scottish brogue.

Annie saw the operator look down at the man, maybe measuring him for a fight if it came to that. Then he looked to Annie, who raised her eyebrows a bit. The operator stopped the machinery.

“You got a bunch of monkeys working this thing? Goddamn!” Then louder, directly at the motionless operator, “Where’s your captain, genius?”

Annie took a few steps closer to the man.

“That would be me.”

The man turned to her, his face registering ... what?

Disbelief? Confusion?

Embarrassment.

As if he thought the Road was for men only

In other words ... total bullshit.

“Captain Annie Scott.” She extended her hand for him to shake.

The man rubbed his chin, momentarily stumped. Then shook hands with her. His calloused hand felt like a slab of overcooked beef.

“That your load, Mr.—”

“McGowan, and it sure the hell is. My mining suit. You have any idea how much one of them things costs?”

“Actually, I do.”

Annie knew that the far-flung mining operations relied on these kinds of freelancers, guys with the expensive suits built to their personal specifications, a necessary entry way into a lucrative, if often deadly, business of off-world mining.

Sure, miners made a lot of money. But most of them never came back. And if they did, they were never satisfied, and they went out again. Things happened once you burrowed into an unknown planet.

Which certainly explained the guy’s jumpiness.

“Those suits,” Annie said, nodding at the frozen load operator, “they’re built to resist a lot of stress, right? Cave-ins? Meteorites and such?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You think”—and here she leaned closer, as if the two of them were sharing a secret—”a little bump from my ground guy here trying to edge it into the cargo hold could hurt it even a
wee
bit?”

The man’s face remained set. Then a bit of a smile.

He certainly looked seasoned, to Annie’s expert eye, but who knew? Something was bugging him. Maybe he was prone to roadsickness.

She’d have to keep an eye on him.

“I guess not.” Then, a genuine smile.

“I hope so. He looks lonely.” She shot Rodriguez a sly smile. “So why doesn’t he come over and buy me a drink?”

Then: “He looks …” She touched her forefinger to her lower lip, which glistened with a deep-red lipstick. “Interesting.”

Then she stopped as Rodriguez took a slug of the beer.

Tastes as good as it looks.

“Whoa. Look at him. That guy over there. Looks damn eager, doesn’t he? He might be worth a chip. Edgy, anxious. Some freaks like that stuff.” “Go for it.”

After another deep slug, Rodriguez turned and glanced at the man Sinjira had spotted. He wore a long coat even though it was a constant 71 degrees in here. Not exactly pacing ... but he shuffled back and forth. Stopped. Looked around.

Every move screamed
nervous.

Then Rodriguez said, “Let’s hope he’s
not
on our SRV.”

“Amen, brother,” Sinjira said. The bartender placed a beer in front of her, but she ignored it and went back to studying the workers and passengers who filled the lounge.

~ * ~

Annie knocked and then entered the director’s office.

“What’s up?”

Humphries stood next to his desk. Beside him was a shorter man. She had obviously interrupted their conversation, although Humphries had summoned her.

The two of them looked at each other as if trying to figure out who was going to speak first. Humphries began.

“Hello, Annie.”

But that was all.

“Sounded pretty urgent,” she replied.

“Well...” Humphries looked at his companion.

“What the hell is it?”

“There,” Humphries said, “there’s been a problem along your route.”

“A problem?”

“Near the Omega Nine Terminal.”

“And?”

“An attack on the mining colony. Could be ... everyone was slaughtered ... or captured. It’s gone quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“No transmissions. Nothing at all.”

“You think Runners?”

“Who else? But nothing’s been confirmed.” Humphries took a slow breath. “Not even why someone would attack the operation. Nothing of any value there except for the ore, which they could’ve grabbed off a freighter once it was carrying it back.”

“And they have a processing facility ... where?” Annie paused. “They’re not
that
organized. They couldn’t run smelters without the World Council catching on.”

“Space is a big place ... and getting bigger by the day.”

“So how’d you find out about this attack?”

Another look at the man with him, and then Humphries tapped the large flat-panel screen behind his desk. It came to life, and after another gesture, a holovid started playing.

A face appeared.

Eyes wide with fright. Face streaked with sweat. Chewing his lip before he spoke.

Was the guy injured ... or just totally terrified?

“This is ... Thalos Station. We’ve been attacked.” A burst of static scrambled the hologram for a second, and then: “... wiping us ...”

His eyes darted around.
Time was obviously of the essence if he’s gonna get the pod out in time,
Annie thought.

The last word ended it, though.

“... out.”

The image on the screen froze for a count of three and then dissolved into a pixilated mess.

Humphries tapped the screen again, and it went dark.

“When did this come in?”

No answer from either of them.

“This morning? Just now?”

Humphries lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Three days ago.”

Annie took a step toward the man who was, on paper at least, her boss. He reeled back as she approached. “You
knew
about this, and you didn’t think to tell me until
now?”

“Orders, Captain Scott,” said the other man—who hadn’t introduced himself—speaking for the first time. “No one is to know about it. Other than the council heads, few do.”

Annie scratched her head.

Who the hell
is
this guy?

“So, what now? You expect me to scrub the trip?”

“That’s your call. As always. I’m afraid in this matter you can’t even consult with your company. You get to know what happened, but for now, that’s it. It’s classified.”

“Great.”

“Odds are they made their point with the attack, and they moved on.”

‘“Odds are?” Annie echoed. She whistled as she exhaled.

“Probably retaliation for Delgato’s trial and conviction,” Humphries said.

Annie considered that for a moment.

“You know I love to gamble, but this…”

“Like I said. It’s your call.”

She raised a hand to end the conversation.

“Not an option, Humphries. I’m going. I just hate surprises.”

And now she saw Humphries glance at the man standing next to him.

She knew another surprise was coming.

Annie stood there, not saying another word.

Let Humphries bring it up.

“Okay. You leave in less than an hour. One more thing, though. This is Bill Nahara.”

Annie still said nothing. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like where this was going.

“He arrived on the shuttle just now. He’s going with you.”

“Why?”

“World Council orders, I’m afraid.”

“For what goddamned purpose?”

“You gotta stop at the mining station.”

“Oh. It gets even better, doesn’t it?”

“Nahara will carry out an investigation there. Nothing big. Just taking a look. Then you’re on your way.”

Annie turned away and walked to the office’s wall-sized window that overlooked the terminal. She looked out, staring blankly at the ant-sized people moving around below.

“Guess I have no say in this after all, huh?”

“Not if you want to leave.”

“Council orders,” Nahara said. She didn’t like the sound of his voice. Too nasally.

“You can still say no.”

“But then your clearance will be revoked,” Nahara said.

“Just following orders, Annie,” Humphries added, as if that would help.

She stepped closer to the window. The loading was almost done on the SRV. The passengers lingered outside or were in the bar, ready and waiting to board, and then: she noticed something.

First, just one of the passengers milling about.

His movements jerky, odd.

Never good to have anyone fidgety on board. Even at their best, Road trips were never a smooth ride.

Then she looked over at two security guards at the checkpoint where passengers entered the security area once they’d been through the security scan. Both of them had pulse guns slung over their shoulders.

She didn’t recognize either of the guards.

“Hang on. Who are those”—she put a finger up to the glass—”those newbies?”

“Probably just rotated in. Your point?”

She looked closer at the man below. Now he was circling the passenger area, and her instincts kicked in.

Something’s not right with that guy.

And the two newbies aren’t paying attention. They might have something to do with it.

She turned for the door.

“Nahara goes!” Humphries called out as she ran past.

She didn’t stop, but said over her shoulder, “We leave in thirty minutes. Be the hell on board, or we go without you.”

~ * ~

Ignoring the elevator—she couldn’t wait that long—she took the staircase down, hitting the steps two at a time.

On the ground floor, she pushed the emergency door open and raced to the enclosed area where the passengers were waiting.