On a Pale Ship Read online

  "Crystal, ma'am," he said.

  "My God, this is not the military," she said. "You can stop with the 'ma'am' crap, already."

  "Understood. I have exactly one mission in mind and that's to take down an organization that's assaulted and abused a woman under my former command, enslaved and abused a score of children, and now threatens the stability of four solar systems. Your feelings for Dorian Anino don't make my top-ten list of concerns. That is if we're looking for clarity. You should not mistake respect for weakness."

  "There it is," Wotton said. "Dorian said you had a backbone. I was starting to question it. Tell me, would you have attacked my man on the roof if he'd continued pushing you?"

  "I wondered who was whispering in his ear," Luc said. "He was in no danger beyond being restrained. I recognized he would not challenge a high ranking corporate executive without being on someone's leash. Establishing ground early is an important part of any negotiation, don't you agree?"

  "Welcome to Wotton, Mr. Gray." She smiled tightly, turned abruptly, and walked from the room.

  "And lunch is ready," Kane said, carrying in a tray full of boxed lunches.

  Following in his wake were Alicia and Ethan who rejoined Luc at the table.

  "That was fast," Luc said.

  "You plan your missions, I plan mine," Kane said, winking conspiratorially.

  "I believe the question on the table was why invest in Wotton," Luc said, turning to the pair of perfectly matched corporate executives. "Because war is the business I know the best. It rarely suffers from economic downturn and frankly when the opportunity presented itself to me, I found I was not in a position to turn it down. Now tell me, which of you were slotted to take my position? I can't imagine either of you are thrilled to have been one-upped by an outsider."

  After a few moments of silence, Alicia finally answered. "We were both vying for the position. Quentin has no interest in running things. He just wants to slave away in the dungeon."

  "A two-way race it is," he said. "I don't plan to run things day-to-day and I'm going to need a strong XO."

  "Pardon?" Ethan asked, suddenly interested in the conversation.

  "Executive Officer. It's a military term. I need a single, strong point of contact who takes orders well and in the absence of orders, fosters an environment that breeds success of the organization. Every person in my division, with the exception of Quentin, Kane and Gabino, will report in some way, shape, or form to that person. Ms. Wotton has expressed great confidence in you both."

  "When will you decide?" Alicia asked.

  "Three weeks. It should give us time to get to know each other and me a chance to get to know our business more intimately. Now, I'd like to spend this afternoon becoming familiar with your departments and how you run things."

  Chapter 23

  Pale Fury

  "Kane, is Gob still in the building?" Luc asked.

  It was past 2000 in the evening and Luc now had a better understanding of the responsibilities of the Research and Development division. He'd discovered dozens, if not hundreds, of pressing projects. To make matters worse, his initial evaluation of Alicia and Ethan was that they were highly educated, power-hungry, elitist mercenaries. What Henrietta saw in them was currently beyond his comprehension.

  "He and Doctor Quentin relocated to our testing site. I believe they're relaxing on the unnamed freighter the good doctor has been working on. If I understood correctly, this ship is to be your primary transportation," Kane answered, appearing in the doorway.

  "You don't have to stay this late," Luc said. "Surely, you have someone who is waiting for you at home? I don't mind fending for myself."

  "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Gray, but that would make me quite the poor assistant," Kane said.

  "Is the testing site nearby?"

  "Forty kilometers in direct flight," Kane replied. "I will requisition transportation."

  "A cab is easy enough," Luc replied.

  Kane Rees's smile was equal parts understanding and patronizing. "There is no need for stealth. Travel to our testing site will send a message to your employees that their new director is taking an active interest. I've taken the liberty of selecting appropriate clothing as well."

  "Clothing?"

  "I'd ask for your trust, Mr. Gray," Kane replied. "You have entered a universe where perception and reality often exchange places for the smallest of reasons. I'd be pleased to explain the nuances in messaging that your clothing choices present. It is my experience, however, that people of your stature have more pressing items to be concerned with."

  Luc considered Kane's words. While he'd like to deny it, even on Nuage, dress and decorum often changed the trajectory of a conversation — or even a career. He found the entire conversation annoying even as he recognized that humans were influenced by visual information and often used it to form impressions.

  "I'd like people to see me with my sleeves rolled up, so to speak; project a no-nonsense and moderately-approachable attitude," Luc said.

  Kane smiled and nodded his head approvingly. "Quite. I'd only add to that integrity and wealth."

  "Wealth?"

  "The women and men you'll be meeting with have substantial personal wealth. You must be on an equal footing," Kane replied.

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "As we're headed to the testing range, a change of clothing is in order. I’m afraid the house-clothing you're currently wearing sent the wrong message to your subordinates for the better part of the day. I do not believe the damage to be irreversible."

  Kane set a stack of clothing on the table. Atop the stack sat a pair of mid-calf, low-gloss tactical combat boots. "Would you care for a shower?"

  "I'm fine," Luc said.

  The ‘house-clothes’ Kane referred to shared the same sanitary properties as all modern smart clothing did, which included removing oils, grit and grime. Without hesitation, he pulled his clothing off down to the thin black boxers he preferred. Kane held khaki-tinted slacks out, followed by a shirt that bore a close resemblance to the flight suit he'd worn as a squadron commander on Nuage.

  "Reminding folks of my military background?" Luc asked.

  "Yes, good catch. Wotton regularly hires ex-military. First impressions and all," Kane said. "If you'll follow me, your transportation awaits." Luc nodded and reached for the pile of clothing he'd left on the table. "Leave it, please."

  "It's the only other clothing I have." Luc caught up to walk even with Kane, who immediately adjusted and slowed his pace.

  When Luc slowed to match, Kane said, "Half a stride ahead is acceptable for casual environments. Otherwise, I will maintain at least a meter's separation."

  "That makes no sense; I don't even know where we're going. I'd prefer we walk as equals," Luc said.

  "Admirable and naïve," Kane said. "Perhaps Ms. Anino did not explain our relationship. I am your assistant. I have trained my entire life to take this responsibility. I will accompany you as long as you will have me."

  "You're describing a manservant," Luc said, stopping.

  "Assistant, valet, butler, and manservant are not pejoratives if the role is properly understood," Kane said. "Do you believe some tasks are too overwhelming as to be accomplished by a single person?"

  "Of course. It's why we build teams."

  "Please keep moving," Kane said. "On your HUD, you'll see indications of where I would direct you to go."

  Luc started forward, not sure what he'd gotten into with Kane.

  "I can figure out where we're going. At the same time, I don't need to show you as a lesser person," Luc said.

  "Good. I believe I bring considerable value to our team. To reach maximum effectiveness, however, I need to be in the background," Kane gently placed his hand on Luc's lower back and pushed him a meter ahead. "There have always been those who diminish the manservant's value. This will often be to your advantage as you will understand this to be inaccurate."

  Luc caught the indicator on his HUD
; they would turn left in three meters. He followed the instruction.

  "You don't work for Wotton, do you?"

  "No, Mr. Gray," Kane said. "You are my employer. My salary has been set by Ms. Anino. With that understanding, my loyalty is entirely to you."

  "Why would you do this? Who grows up and wants to be a valet?" Luc asked.

  "I am not an athletic man. People tend to dismiss me because of my slight build and fair complexion, Mr. Gray. When I was growing up, I found I was interested in fashion much more than throwing balls and playing soldiers. Say what you might, but there is a stigma attached to men like me in the general populous. Most are accepting, but it is there nonetheless. I had considered pursuing design, but I wanted a nobler objective."

  "What about family or relationships? Your schedule is not your own in this job," Luc said, stopping as they approached a pair of doors that slid open.

  "Most thoughtful," Kane replied, nodding at the luxurious interior of the long black vehicle docked beside the building. "Knowing that I am privy to your entire history, including the last few months, would you say that your schedule has been your own?"

  Luc sank into the soft leather as Kane sat opposite. "Touché. I'll struggle with this, Kane. I'm not sure if this is me or not."

  The sleek vehicle smoothly glided away from the building and slid into a busy lane of traffic heading south. Luc looked out the windows, taken in by the fantastic scene of Joliot at night.

  "That is to be expected," Kane said. "Our pairing might not work or you may reject working with me. I am prepared for these eventualities. I propose, for now, you simply put your reservations aside and accept the help I'm able to provide. You have a strong sense of self and will come to a decision soon enough."

  "What would you do if I rejected you?" Luc asked.

  "I was warned you were a man of direct conversation," Kane said. "I would find another powerful man or woman who needed my services. You should know, there are hundreds of thousands of individuals seeking the services of my guild. Not to be haughty, but it was I who accepted you first. Not all who seek a manservant are chosen."

  "You are a natural negotiator, Kane," Luc said, smiling.

  "What is your business with Doctor Quentin and Mr. Alcazar?"

  "How much do you know about the last week?"

  "Ms. Anino's compound was attacked by a man called Marek Alexander," Kane said. "He used children who'd been brainwashed in a successful attempt to capture the woman Katriona Macillvain. I could go on."

  "We're going to find Katriona and bring her and those children back by any means necessary," Luc said with determination. "My cover has been established and it's now time to get serious about the mission."

  "You should eat." Kane opened a panel behind which sat a glass of bubbling amber liquid and a wrapped sandwich. "I'm pleased to say I was able to find Squid's Ink Amber at a local distributor."

  Luc grabbed the cold glass and took a sip. It was the perfect temperature. He hadn't had a drink for what seemed like years and it had technically been in another life. He closed his eyes in appreciation, savoring the moment.

  "If this whole butler thing doesn't work out, I might consider marriage," Luc said.

  Kane chuckled. "We are simple beings. There are several local breweries that produce a product similar to Squid's Ink. If you're amenable, I will provide a sampling over time."

  Luc opened the wrapper on the sandwich and ate, his stomach waking at the sound of the crinkling paper. "Sure. Sounds good."

  By the time the limousine descended to ground level, he'd indulged in a second drink and regretted that his new body tolerated the alcohol's effect so easily.

  "Up for a jog?" Luc asked.

  "Pardon?" Kane asked.

  "I haven't had any exercise all day," Luc said. "I'd like to run the last few kilometers."

  "Very well. I will meet you at your destination."

  The limousine slowed to a stop and Luc stepped out onto a well-kempt gravel road. His HUD showed that he was eight kilometers from the entrance to Wotton Enterprise's test facility. An update showed that he had an additional two kilometers from the first security checkpoint to get to Hangar-51, where Doctor Quentin and Gob currently resided.

  The cool air of Irène was a welcome change from the stuffy office building and for a few minutes Luc simply enjoyed the visceral experience of the exercise. It wasn't his first run since his re-birth, but he'd been constrained to Dorian's laboratory facility's exercise track. She'd informed him that exercise would help his body direct the new muscles in their growth and encouraged him to push it.

  When Luc finally arrived at the gates, he was running at a speed he'd never considered possible before and while he was breathing deeply, he could have pushed it even harder. Slowing to a walk, his presence prompted a response from the guard shack that bottlenecked traffic into and out of the fenced facility.

  The pair who challenged his approach both held weapons Luc knew could convert between semi-automatic to automatic fire with little more than a breath.

  "Good evening, sir," came the snappy reply from one of the guards who wore a camouflage uniform. Luc could see the woman's repressed instinct to salute and smiled, thinking about Kane's choice of clothing for him.

  "Nice night for a run," he said, laying his hand on the scan pad that was presented. A positive chime indicated a good scan and the gate lumbered open.

  "Little chilly," the second guard offered. Luc noticed that both wore winter gear and he checked his HUD. The temperature was minus two degrees. "Happy to take you over to the hangar if you'd prefer."

  "Cold is always toughest when you're standing post," Luc said. "A ride would be most welcome."

  "Copy that, Mr. Gray. Hop in," she answered, nodding at the open four-seater, gravity-assisted patrol vehicle. Luc nodded and walked around the front end, using the vehicle's protective cage to swing himself onto the seat.

  "I have your destination as Hangar-51," she said, pulling away from the front gate, following the hard-packed path into the facility.

  "Roger that," Luc answered, reading the name on her uniform. "So, Anderson, where'd you serve?"

  The woman smiled and nodded. "That obvious?"

  "Can't take the Marine out of the woman," Luc answered, his AI displaying her positive, if not distinguished, military service to Curie's combined force.

  "Oorah," she answered.

  The test facility was a total of fifty square kilometers and laid out in a rectangle that was twice as long as it was wide. The hangar Luc was headed to was the largest on the facility, but had little current activity. Driving through, Luc saw signs of significant use and in some cases abuse, evidenced by scorch marks on the ground and burned-out vehicles.

  "Looks like it's plenty busy around here," Luc observed. "Nights always quiet like this?"

  "Copy that, sir. Quality Control likes to test in the bright and shiny," she answered, the disapproval in her voice evident. "And here we are."

  Hanger-51 soared forty meters into the night air and stretched half a kilometer. A huge overhead door took up much of the side Luc approached and it wasn't until he was closer that he realized Kane waited for him next to a man-sized door, the limousine apparently long since departed.

  "Thanks for the ride, Sergeant," Luc said, hopping out next to where Kane stood stoically trying not to shiver.

  "Any time, Captain," Anderson answered.

  Luc smiled, somewhere during the trip she'd located his military service records just as he had hers.

  "Man of the people," Kane said, smiling and pushing open the door. "Nicely done."

  Luc's heart leapt into his throat as he entered the massive building and saw the freighter. Somewhere in his mind's eye, the term freighter had brought up images from his time flying patrol over Grünholz. Freighters were always ungainly, boxy ships designed for the sole purpose of moving as much material from one locale to the next as inexpensively as possible.

  Behind them, the door he and Ka
ne had passed through opened, but Luc couldn't tear his eyes away from the ship, whose lines were every bit as beautiful as any ship he'd laid eyes upon. Sixty meters long, the silver-metallic skin drew back from a shovel's edge on the bow, growing both vertically and horizontally as it seamlessly traversed the ship from stem to stern. Where most space-bound ships tended toward boxy, this ship was rounded and sleek.

  There were no visible antennae, windows or ports of any kind. From the bow, he could not even see cowling of the engines, although he could make out a broad, rounded flair of the sleek material at the far aft.

  "And I looked, and beheld a pale horse; and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." Jimmy spoke the biblical words dramatically, his light Scottish accent more evident than normal.

  "Seems a heavy statement. She's a beautiful ship," Luc said, smelling a wave of cheap whiskey emanating from Jimmy.

  "Haven't you figured it out yet? That's who we are, Gray," Jimmy said. "The burden we carry is death. Wrapping it in silver will make it no less heavy."

  "I think someone needs a good night's sleep," Luc said, turning toward Jimmy. The rail-thin man held an open, half-empty, square bottle of a top-shelf whiskey that Luc knew to sell for eighty credits on Nuage.

  "What do you think?" Luc wouldn't have recognized Doctor Wright's voice if he hadn't expected his presence. When he turned back, the small, older man nimbly jetted toward him, blue arc-jet cones firing as he braked, stopping just short of the trio.

  "She's beautiful, Doctor Wright, although not exactly what I was expecting from the description I received," Luc said.

  "Please call me Quentin, or Doc. Although the kids call me Doctor Q. I don't mind. It has a neo sound to it," the older man said, hovering so he came even with Luc's face. "I see you checked in at the Red Pony, Jimmy?"

  "I sure did, Doctor Q." Jimmy waved the open bottle in front of Quentin’s face.

  "That's the difference between field work and science," Quentin said, taking in the drunken man without skipping a beat. "You boys look for ways to forget and we look for ways to remember."