Starhold's Fate (Starhold Series Book 4) Read online

  Lin was still yammering as the limo pulled up to their destination. “At nine-hundred forty-nine meters tall, ArcoSoleri is the tallest of the three buildings, containing two-hundred two levels, of which one-hundred eighty-seven are above the surface. Hotel Horizon is proud to be located in the largest arcology, home to over sixty-thousand Prosperity City residents.” She finally wound down as another blue suited hotel employee opened the limo door from the sidewalk. “This gentleman and his associate will handle your bags and escort you to Level Fifty-Two and our reception lounge. So nice meeting you both, and I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

  The sheer scale of ArcoSoleri was amazing. Hotel Horizon was one of the biggest in Prosperity City, and it still occupied only a portion of the fifty-second floor. The lift they ascended on was large enough to accommodate two-hundred people, and interior corridors were nearly as wide as city streets.

  “A few final things,” said the hotel receptionist, a man named Birch, following a quick registration. “First, you have a message from a Mr. Beckman. He wishes to meet with you in the hotel restaurant this evening at twenty-hundred hours.” Beckman was their Sarissan contact here on Pontus. “And also, a word about housekeeping.”

  “Housekeeping?” repeated Sanchez.

  “Yes, some of our housekeeping staff are automatons—androids,” said Mr. Birch, trying to be precise. “Please don’t be alarmed if your housekeeper is, um, not quite human. Management purchased our automatonic staff members from a Vahtaran firm. Part of the brave new age of alien contact and all,” said the smiling clerk. “Honestly, if you ask me, they are more efficient than our human staff. If there is anything you need during your time with us, please don’t hesitate to ask. We have the finest hotel on Pontus. I’m sure your stay will be a pleasant one.”

  “I’m sure it will,” said Carr. “Everything has been stellar so far, and we certainly appreciated the limo ride from the spaceport.”

  The clerk looked puzzled, tilting his head as if he hadn’t heard clearly. “I’m sorry?”

  “The limo,” said Carr. “From the spaceport. It was a nice gesture.”

  “Your Ms. Lin?” added Sanchez.

  “Ah, again, I’m sorry,” said the bewildered Mr. Birch. “I’m not sure what you are talking about. Hotel Horizon dispatched no limo, and we have no one on staff by the name of Lin.”

  * * * *

  After a brief nap, Carr and Sanchez arrived at the hotel restaurant a few minutes past twenty-hundred. As they walked into the bar, it occurred to Carr that someone could live their entire life in this building without ever once setting foot outside. In fact, they actually might even be able to pull it off without leaving their home floor. It was a depressing notion.

  While waiting to be served, Sanchez stood gazing at herself in a mirror behind the bar. “I’ve been thinking of growing my hair longer,” she said. “You know, a change from the old pageboy cut. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be grounds for divorce,” Carr answered with mock solemnity.

  “I didn’t realize your feelings on the matter would be that strong,” she said as the bartender approached them. “I’ll have a martini with Oppegaard Premium and make it a little dirty, please.”

  “And for you, sir.”

  “The same.”

  Sanchez tilted her head in surprise. “No whiskey? Clearly this whole discussion about my hair has rattled you.”

  “You know what else rattles me?” said Carr with a sudden and genuine edge to his voice. “That big bastard over there. The guy at the pub table wearing the jacket that’s three sizes too small. That’s Beckman.” The man in question caught sight of Carr and returned his gaze with a foul look of his own.

  “Hoo-boy! Let me guess,” Sanchez frowned. “You two already know each other and you don’t get along.”

  “Right and right.”

  Sanchez took a deep breath and poked an index finger into her husband’s chest. “You—you just behave yourself. And you,” she said, turning to the bartender who had just delivered their drinks. “You are on standby. I think you’re in for a busy evening.”

  Carr scowled and Sanchez smiled as they sat down at Beckman’s table. The man had a wide body and thick face, highlighted by a bushy salt and pepper mustache and a forehead so high it ran all the way to the crown of his head. Carr wasn’t in the mood for fake congeniality so he didn’t even try, and that seemed to suit Beckman fine.

  “So, whose team are you on these days, Beckman?” asked Carr. “Still OMI, or is it SSB now? Kaskian Guard? There are so many players to choose from these days.”

  “Funny, Carr. You are always just so damn funny.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Sanchez sprightly chimed in. “By the way, I’m Etta…”

  “Yeah, I know—the wife,” interrupted the man with a pointed roll of his eyes. “The great Carr and Sanchez—super-agents who are gonna swoop in and rescue us poor bumbling local slobs. Look, I know you two are operating with Imperial Aegis and all of that, but right outta the box, I just wanna get something straight. I don’t appreciate outsiders coming onto my turf and taking charge.” Beckman paused before adding, “especially outsiders who aren’t even in the game anymore.”

  Carr was having none of it—he didn’t care about this man’s outrage, either professional or personal. “You haven’t answered my question, Beckman. Whose team? Our instructions were to contact you, but I’d like to know who you take your orders from.”

  “Still with the firm,” Beckman said, referring to the Office of Military Intelligence, Carr and Sanchez’s old outfit.

  Sanchez tried to cool things down. “So, Mr. Beckman, how long have you been here on Pontus?”

  “Three years now.”

  “And before?”

  Beckman made a sour face. “Ask your husband,” he muttered grabbing his drink.

  Carr was all too pleased to enlighten her. “Our associate here was on Arethusa with me during the whole Jason Tolbert mess a few years back. I was never quite sure whether he was one of Tolbert’s dirty crew or not. To be honest, I’m still not sure.”

  Beckman quickly turned to Sanchez. “Your husband came through Arethusa like a damn hurricane, upsetting everything left and right. I liked my job there, but I think it was your husband’s antics that got me transferred here to Pontus.”

  Sanchez was clearly done with trying to be polite. Judging from her new bluntness, she had apparently decided civility wasn’t worth the effort. “Yeah, well—whatever. Since you’re here, maybe you can be useful.” Holding up her mobile, she showed their disgruntled colleague a photo subtly taken this afternoon in the limousine. “Know her?”

  “Yunru Lin,” answered Beckman matter-of-factly.

  “Wow, she didn’t even bother to use a fake name,” Carr said.

  Beckman guzzled his drink and signaled the server for another. “That woman is the girlfriend of Beetle Dash.”

  Carr blinked. “What the devil is a Beetle Dash?”

  “Dash is a local crime boss. Everyone calls him Beetle,” said Beckman, looking slightly less antagonistic as he gazed into an empty glass.

  “Beetle?” echoed Sanchez.

  Beckman chuckled. “Hey—Beetle is an upgrade. The guy’s real name is Garvine.”

  “Point taken. Is this Beetle with the Black Doves?” asked Sanchez, referencing the largest criminal organization in the Renaissance Sector.

  The big man shook his head. “He wishes. They barely know he exists. In the meantime, he styles himself as one of the great crime bosses of Prosperity City. He’s got an operation here in ArcoSoleri. Beetle is a big man in these parts, but only if you travel above Level One-Thirty. He has a brothel up on One Forty-Four and another racket on the Upper Ten.”

  “The Upper Ten?” questioned Carr. “What’s that?”

  “The top ten floors. Warehouses and landing pads. He skims the merchandise coming into the arcology. The stuff he steals gets resold at the other two Arcos—with a sizeable marku
p, mind you.”

  Sanchez sipped at her cocktail. “Sounds like Beetle is doing all right.”

  “It sounds like it, but just remember we’re sitting inside what is essentially a very, very tall pyramid,” said Beckman as he pantomimed with his right hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger together as they rose from the table. “His territory is on the top levels and they are the smallest. On the other hand, don’t underestimate him. The guy is a freakin’ nut case. About a year ago, he found his old girlfriend sleeping with one of his gang. Beetle had them both tossed out of the building—from the observation deck up on Level One-Eighty.”

  Sanchez made a disagreeable face before thinking out loud. “So, Beetle’s new girlfriend picks us up at the spaceport and goes through the whole hotel employee charade. For what? Just to let us know they’re watching us?”

  “Curious that we showed up on his radar so quickly,” added Carr.

  Beckman was staring at them, the kind of look you get from someone who knows something you don’t.

  “They didn’t tell you?” he said at last. “Back on Sarissa, they didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell us what?” asked Carr as the big slob broke into gleeful laughter.

  “That’s just too funny,” Beckman howled. “You see, I was given orders to spread around a cover story about why you two were coming to Pontus.”

  “What story? What did you spread?” asked Carr, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  “The story is that you two quit OMI four years ago and ran off to Earth with a bunch of their money. The Sarissan authorities just now got wise, so you’re on the run again before they can nab you,” explained Beckman, who broke into another round of giggles. “Ohhh, man—you should see the look on your faces.”

  “So, people here think we’re thieves?” asked Sanchez incredulously.

  “People here think you are enemies of the Sarissan Empire. On this rock that might make you some friends. Lady Belford said—”

  “Belford!” cursed Carr under his breath. “That woman!”

  “Sounds like good bait to me,” mumbled Beckman. “And it worked, didn’t it? You’ve already drawn some interest. That’s what you’re here for, am I right?”

  Carr shot Beckman a look of distain. “Unlike you, Beckman, some of us have good reputations that we’d like to keep. All this talk is bound to get back to Sarissa—and Earth.”

  “Instructions from the Imperial Palace,” the guy pleaded, trying to defend himself. “I couldn’t ignore them. Besides…” He choked off his words abruptly.

  “Besides what?” said Sanchez. “Say what you were going to say.”

  “Besides, there have always been people who wondered about you two, about your sudden retirement.” As antagonistic as Beckman had been, he now slid into a more measured tone. “I don’t like you, Carr. I’ve never liked you. Personally, I think you’re a real prick. That said, I don’t peg you as a traitor, either. You have to admit it’s odd though: you guys retiring all of a sudden and not only leaving the service, but leaving Sarissa, too. Some people saw that as very, um… strange.”

  The three of them sipped on their drinks in silence for a few moments. Carr and Sanchez had always understood that their abrupt departure four years ago could have been misunderstood by some.

  “Hey, you know what? Screw ‘em,” declared Beckman raising his glass. “The people who like you, they won’t believe it. As for your enemies, who the hell cares what they think? Am I right?”

  It seemed to Carr that Beckman was speaking as much about himself as he was about them. The more the trio drank, the more the men eased up on each other. Carr waved for another round, wanting to tap this man for all the information he could. Tomorrow, Beckman would probably be back to his usual disagreeable self.

  “Does Beetle Dash do work for anyone else?” asked Carr.

  “Beetle works for whoever pays him. Right now, he’s in thick with a group of Gerrhan refugees—wealthy refugees.”

  Sanchez was dubious. “Refugees aren’t usually rolling in money.”

  “These guys are. There is a large Gerrhan expatriate community here in Prosperity City, mostly over in ArcoWright.” The Sarissans had defeated the Commonwealth in a war several years ago, absorbing most of their worlds into the Empire, including Gerrha.

  “After the war, some of the big shots in the Commonwealth snagged political asylum here on Pontus,” Beckman continued. “You know—politicians, generals, industrialists… people that would rather not have to deal with the Empire.”

  “These folks sound like people who might hold a grudge,” Carr said.

  “Something like that.” Beckman suddenly lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers. “Damn, I meant to tell you earlier. A Space Force frigate pulled into orbit this afternoon—the Dagger. It’s holding synchronous orbit above the city and has a platoon of Marine Raiders on board. They are at your disposal if you need them.”

  Raiders were special op forces. Carr could just envision how the Pontian authorities would react if he were to summon Sarissan Marines down to the surface, guns blazing. But before he could even consider such a move, there was work to be done. He and Sanchez had to figure out what the hell was going on.

  Why would any human be helping the Massang?

  * * * *

  “C’mon—bedtime,” Sanchez said fighting off a yawn.

  Both of them had returned to their suite and crumpled onto the couch together. With soft music playing and the lights dimmed, if they didn’t make their move to the bedroom soon, they would find themselves waking up right here come tomorrow morning.

  Carr kissed her temple as her head rested against his shoulder. “You know, Beckman’s right about one thing.”

  “That you’re a real prick?” she said, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. “I could have told him that.”

  Carr ignored the taunt. “I was thinking about that woman, Lin, and the whole hotel limo charade. Our arrival has definitely rattled someone’s cage.”

  “What’s our next move?” asked his wife as she rose, extending him a helping hand to stand as well. “Do we look for Yunru Lin?”

  Carr took her hand, but instead of standing he pulled her down into his lap. Straddling him and sitting on top of his knees, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss the top of his shaven head. “We could search the arcology,” Sanchez whispered into his ear. “You know, go door to door.”

  “Very funny, but not necessary. Lin’s already come to us once, my bet is she will again. That business today was just to look us over. Next time…” Sanchez was nibbling at his ear with gentle kisses. It wasn’t helping his concentration. “I’d also like to take a stroll over to ArcoWright tomorrow.”

  “ArcoWright” she repeated, sitting up and taking his hands into hers. “The Gerrhan exiles. You really think that’s our best lead?”

  “Beetle Dash and his girlfriend didn’t get interested in us all on their own. Someone’s paying them, and there are a lot of Gerrhans that hate the Sarissan Empire.”

  “Well, they won’t hate the Empire any less in the morning,” she said squeezing his hands. “Come on, time to go to bed.”

  “For sex or sleep?”

  “You know, we could do both.”

  “Tell you what,” he said with an impish grin. “Let’s split the difference. You do the sex while I grab some sleep.”

  “Typical,” she joked, just before lightly clipping him on the side of the head.

  9: Crossbow

  Heavy cruiser Crossbow

  Julau system

  Sunny Nyondo was trying to check her temper. “Sulla, I promise I will double-check those timetables, but for now they are solid. Your fuel consignment will be waiting for Heshke and all the other Lytori ships when we arrive at Quinnesec.”

  “It was supposed to be waiting for us in this system, too,” reminded Captain Sulla tersely.

  The combined Human-Lytori fleet had dropped out of hypers
pace and into the Julau system for a refueling stop. Sure enough, a scheduling snafu had delayed the shipment for the Lytori vessels. Luckily, Julau Station had a surplus, along with gas miners to harvest and refine more from the many local gas giants. They couldn’t count on that in Quinnesec, a relatively barren star system.

  Nyondo and her android counterpart were working in one of the conference rooms of the heavy cruiser, Crossbow. This ship would be her home for the next few months, not that Nyondo had had much time to look the vessel over. Between tanker schedules, personnel matters, and the constant tug of war with Central Command to acquire what the fleet needed, she hadn’t had much time to do anything else, let alone take leisurely onboard strolls.

  Crossbow was the first of her kind, a new class of cruiser designed to answer the challenges of the current conflict. Massang battlecruisers were proving too fast and nimble for massive Sarissan battleships to engage effectively, and so human war planners had turned to the more adroit cruiser. Crossbow herself had been specifically fitted as a flagship, with a flag bridge and conference areas that would be missing on most ships of this class.

  On the other hand, if there were no conference rooms aboard, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck here catching hell from Sulla. The Lytori captain had shuttled over with Admiral Marius during the refueling period. Shortly, they would all return to hyperspace and the last leg of the journey to the staging area at Quinnesec.

  “As soon as we are finished here, I promise I will contact Central Command to firm up those tanker schedules,” reassured Nyondo.

  Sulla crossed her forearms at an angle, an alien gesture Nyondo understood to be the equivalent of a smile. “I am stressed. This is not your fault. I value your competence as an officer, Captain Sunny.” Lytori still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of when and how to use human first and last names. “My anxiety results from my desire not to disappoint.”