Spawn of Ganymede Read online

  “You’re not gonna kill me, are you? You promised…”

  Dekker winked at him. “No. But I am going to take your book as punishment for trying to murder me. I think that’s a fair transaction. What do you think?”

  Bob nodded in defeat.

  “Great. Then I’ll let you live. One more thing though. Tell me, are there any other dangers in the city I ought to be wary of?”

  “The city, not anything special. Organized crime, the constables are corrupt, general big city crime, the usual. But I would keep away from the rural zones. There are… I’ve heard rumors… things living in the wild.”

  Dekker lashed the other end of Bob’s bonds and tied it to the knife handle and then threw it up, burying it deep into the wood ceiling. “You don’t look all that spry, Bob, but I bet even you could make a few jumps up to it and maybe cut yourself free. It might take some doing, but you’ll manage.” He ruffled through the old, sepia pages and fingered an area where several pages had been torn from the book. The wounds looked old based on the fraying. He closed it and tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave. “Have yourself a nice day, now. Let’s not cross paths again.”

  13

  Quade finally opened his eyes to a brilliantly lit room. White walls and metallic trim made the illumination nearly blinding in its sterility.

  He spotted a few logos. They branded medical packages and were affixed to the facility’s surfaces. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the symbol.

  “Oh, you’re awake,” his abductor said.

  Quade narrowed his eyes and tried to lash out at the man who’d electrocuted him, but his arms and legs were tied off.

  “My name is Doctor Meng,” he said. “I work for Jagaracorps.”

  Quade suddenly recognized the symbol now that he had a name to match to it.

  “Wh-where am I?” He glanced around the room and saw a bank of video displays on a far wall. The feeds all came from his village, and from others. A woman coughed on one screen and hacked up a wad of slime. On another, a fevered man stumbled down a road.

  “In my laboratory, Quade. There is something different about you. I must know what.”

  Quade raised an eyebrow, disturbed that Dr. Meng knew his name.

  “You are not sick like the others, and I know you were exposed to the spores. I saw it happen. Both times.”

  “Jagaracorps?” Quade asked. “Aren’t they responsible for all sorts of biological innovations? Pharmaceuticals and what not?”

  Meng nodded. “Yes. Yes. They sponsor my research, but they are so much more than medicines.” He waved around the room. “For decades, this lab right here has been responsible for so many of the company’s greatest breakthroughs.” He looked forlornly down, staring at a lit quarantine box as if it carried the body of his fallen child. A nameplate labeled its contents as Eden-12.

  Quade suddenly remembered the rumors of the old tunnels and the original settlement on Galilee. Glimpses of old, decaying buildings and ghost towns planted decades ago were common. The push to repopulate Galilee came only recently; nobody talked about the previous attempt to tame the expansion planet.

  Finally giving the Doctor’s box his full attention, Quade asked, “What is it?”

  “The seed. It’s been responsible for many of my breakthroughs… and my current experiment is my most ambitious yet… a hybrid race capable of working in deep space or populating hostile planets far beyond the habitable zones. Think of it. A new race of humanoids: a subservient working class meant to better mankind!”

  Quade watched Dr. Meng with a slack-jawed, neutral expression. He did not want to provoke the mad scientist, but couldn’t help from stating the obvious. “Your seed… it’s dead.”

  Meng nodded slowly and with a scowl. “The Eden seed is gone. I used the last of my samples to create clones, but none of them seem to be viable… like creating a dead embryo.” He puffed a hot blast of disappointment through his nose. “But just when all was lost and I could do no more research, a new seed was delivered.”

  “Sooo… I’m glad you rescued me and I’m happy that you can keep doing your thing. But any chance you’re going to let me go now that you have what you need?” Quade hoped that a different approach might help him escape.

  Meng shook his head. “You are much too important to my research. These seeds are far more valuable than any human life—and my current theory links your strange resistance to my seeds’ deaths.” He pointed to a whirring genetic printer nearby. “I have a new seed clone being made even now and I have high hopes for its survival. You are the key to limitless production. I might never worry about my supply again. You could unlock our race’s potential!”

  The doctor pulled a nearby tray of medical equipment to his side as Quade struggled against his restraints.

  “I must know why the spores did not react to you. If it is genetic, as I suspect, then we stand on the cusp of a new era in the universe’s evolution. Whatever it is, I must get to the bottom of it in the name of science.” He grabbed a ventilator mask and turned the knob on a gas line. “Now hold still, or there will be increased pain.”

  Quade struggled, trying to resist the doctor’s strong hands as he tried to put the mask on him. The prisoner’s eyes caught a glimpse of a huge creature enclosure at the edge of his peripheral. A sign labeled it “Specimen GRRZ.” One of the creatures roared in the cage, just beyond sight.

  Meng used the opportunity to slip the inhalant mask over Quade’s face. The odorless gas took effect almost immediately and his eyelids fluttered with unnatural weight. The last thing Quade saw was Dr. Meng reaching for his scalpel.

  14

  Rock and Guy hauled their cargo trains through the streets of Newhope. The off-worlders drew the gazes of bystanders who eyed them with a mixture of suspicion and entrepreneurial intent.

  Guy checked the directions one last time and then pulled up to a huge garage. He snorted, “It looks worse than our BOA back on Reef City,” he said.

  The door raised and a scrawny man with wispy hair emerged. Dirt mixed with grease and sweat on his skin and he wore the same cockeyed expression that was Doc Johnson’s trademark.

  “Are you Benjamin?” Rock asked.

  The man nodded and waved them in. “My cousin, Doc, must’ve sent you? He's no doctor, but we call him Doc because of what he does.”

  “He did, and we know,” Guy winked. "Bit of a mad scientist, right?"

  With a nod, Benjamin smiled through thin lips and revealed bad teeth. “Communications aren’t always great out this way,” he motioned towards a berth in his shop for them to park. “I apologize that I don’t have anything to offer you besides the local water. I wasn’t sure when to expect you.” He added, “The water’s filtered—so you won’t catch the crud, at least.”

  Guy raised a brow when a hover car approached, but Benjamin stayed him with a hand. The clean, luxury skiff pulled in front of the yawning bay doors and parked. The vehicle looked far too fancy to be a customer of Benjamin’s.

  Two men stepped out of the cab. A third man remained inside; his posture indicated he felt too self-important to exit.

  “Why would Azhooliens be operating on a backwater planet like Galilee?” Guy whispered to Rock. “Don’t those skin stealers usually stick to the worst parts of the galaxy… the business and political worlds?”

  All three of them wore skin that boasted a silvery sheen and two had hair that had lost all color, falling in locks of white. The third and youngest one’s hair had several inches of white and remained dark after that, indicating how recently the human had absorbed the symbiotic alien and become its host.

  Rock sipped from the cup of lukewarm water and twisted his mouth at the flavor. “No ideas about that. But it certainly ain’t normal—you’re right about that much.” He shuddered at the thought of being taken over by one of the strange, energy-based life forms.

  Outside, beyond earshot, Benjamin engaged them in an animated discussion. The white-haired
toughs didn’t seem moved by his appeals. Finally, he looked back at the Investigators and his new cargo shipment. With a slight slump of his shoulders he retrieved a wallet from his pocket.

  Finally, the lead Azhoolien emerged. He skimmed Benjamin’s credit chip and returned it with a haughty smile. He checked his timepiece and then urged his ruffians back into the vehicle.

  Guy mocked with disgust, “‘I don’t think we have time for any more extortion today, boys—we got shopping to do.’”

  “You think so?” Rock asked. “I mean, it sure looks like it to me.”

  Benjamin returned with flush cheeks and tried to keep the embarrassment from his face.

  “Are those guys squeezing you for money?” Guy asked.

  Benjamin bit his lower lip. “It’s why I asked my cousin for some extra supplies. I needed to make up the difference; the crime syndicate controls everything in the cities and the rural areas are… best avoided. Galilee is…” he trailed off. “The fringe worlds play by their own rules. There is opportunity out here for everybody—sometimes that opens us up to exploitation. This place… it’s not always safe—but I’d rather take my chances here than live trapped in a system controlled by the Mother Earth Aggregate.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Guy said, raising a glass of the tepid, grayish water. He tossed it back with a grimace and coughed.

  Benjamin laughed, “It won’t make you sick—but it sure don’t taste like it should!”

  15

  “State your business.” Vesuvius said as the men approached the rear of the Rickshaw Crusader. She sat atop the open landing ramp and tightened the grip on her katana for emphasis.

  The contact raised both his hands. “Whoa. I’m Merrick Doyle… just here to pick up my shipment. Medical supplies, mostly.”

  Perched protectively around the cargo pallet, the remaining Dozen watched his approach with hungry eyes. He met Mustache at the top of the slope and handed him his identification card.

  Mustache gave it a cursory glance and then tossed it back to him while Ahmed, their combat medic, scanned the shipping invoice. “What are you guys dealing with? These drugs are usually used to treat Grohl Fever, Triptyfection, and pulmonary myometaccrescere.”

  Merrick stared at him blankly. He merely shrugged. “I dunno. The doctors just told me to pick it up.” He signed a receipt form and led the way.

  A few of the others used the load lifter to drag the cargo to the dirt below where a fancy vehicle waited.

  Ahmed tapped Vesuvius on the shoulder. “I don’t think this guy’s on the up and up.”

  She scowled at the shiny vehicle as two large guys got out and loaded the boxes into the transport. “Are the drugs dangerous on the street?”

  Ahmed shook his head. “Not particularly so. It’s odd. Most of them are pretty obscure and only needed for certain kinds of treatments. Usually repository infections on agrarian worlds.”

  “Sooo, we didn’t get paid to smuggle a bunch of illegal drugs to a planet with ambiguous laws on that topic and we’re not flooding the population with addictive substances?”

  He shook his head. "No. It's clean... we're not accidental drug smugglers."

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t think someone from the hospital would drive that kind of fancy auto.”

  Vesuvius looked outside. She shrugged. “I agree with you. But we don’t get paid to think—we get paid to protect cargo up until it gets delivered.” She folded up the signed receipt. “No longer our problem.”

  Two ATVs pulled in as the luxury transport drove away. Engines revved as they pulled up the ramp. Vesuvius glowered as she and Ahmed watched a man sprinting towards their ship from the edge of the nearby market.

  Rock and Guy killed their vehicles and joined the two.

  “What was the Azhoolien crime syndicate doing over here?” Guy asked, nodding after the vehicle as it accelerated into the distance.

  The man running through the field grabbed a handful of stones from the ground and threw them impotently in the direction of the departed Azhooliens. They did not get far and bounced away before reaching their target, unable to slow them.

  He turned and ran for the Crusader. The man stopped and stood stiff as the crew leveled weapons at the intruder.

  Producing his identification, the man huffed and puffed from the running. “Please tell me that you had two orders to deliver to this planet,” he said as Vesuvius descended the ramp and took his paperwork.

  She eyed him suspiciously and then glanced past him, spotting Dekker’s approach through the field. Vesuvius hissed a curse below her breath. The new guy looked strikingly similar to the man who’d just taken their cargo.

  “My name is Merrick,” he said. “We’ve got to hurry. There are a ton of sick people back at my village. Where are the medical supplies?”

  Ahmed glanced at Vesuvius. Her lips shrank and twisted into a frown. "Crap."

  16

  “I guess the sickness wasn’t bad enough for this cursed planet, but it’s really only the outlier towns that are suffering,” said Merrick—the real Merrick. He muttered, “The disappearances have gotten so bad that I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  “Disappearances?” Dekker asked. They’d taken the tardy medical worker and gathered around him in the Crusader’s lounge. Someone had sabotaged his vehicle, causing his delay.

  Merrick’s shoulders slumped. “Whole towns have been emptied. And it can’t simply be folk getting nervous about the illness and relocating without telling others. My main assistant, a nice guy named Quade, he disappeared a couple nights ago, too. The guy is criminally polite… no way he would’ve abandoned the project without letting me know.” He sighed and ran fingers through his hair. “This isn’t what I signed up to do in my year between medical classes.”

  Ahmed hovered nearby, next to Guy who asked, “Why do you think the Azhooliens would be interested in the drugs?”

  He shrugged. “Either they need them because their human host bodies are affected by the spores, or more likely, they saw an opportunity to extort the families living beyond the city and squeeze them for every penny if they want a chance at staying alive.”

  Dekker’s face darkened. He didn’t like the sound of that. “This medicine will save lives?”

  Merrick looked skeptical. “I don’t even know. It was just a hypothesis Quade and I formed. Based on how the sickness seems to be contracted, we thought this could help, but we’re really shooting in the dark.”

  Worry lines creased near Dekker’s eyes, “How can we help get it back?”

  He shrugged. “The constables on the fringe are a joke. They’re too scared to act… haven’t even looked into finding the missing folks. Nobody knows where to find the Azhooliens—they find you—so I couldn’t even buy the stuff back if I wanted… or could.”

  Dekker scanned the faces of his crew. It was evident that each of them felt the heaviness of their responsibility.

  “Any ideas, guys?”

  Juice raised his hand. “That kind of vehicle they drove… it’s a Tyger Imperial… super fancy. They have a remote tracking system as part of their theft prevention protocols. Can we track it?”

  Vesuvius scowled. “I’m sure they disabled it first thing after buying… or stealing… the vehicle. Rule number one: Criminals don’t like to be found.”

  “Unless you knew the transponder signal codes and could reactivate it remotely by satellite broadcast?” Guy suggested. All eyes turned to him and he almost wilted beneath their gaze—there was no way anyone could know that code.

  Guy elbowed Rock. “We might know a guy who can help.”

  17

  Benjamin shushed Rock and Guy. “You can’t ask those kinds of questions so loudly!” He pulled them into his office and looked over his shoulder. Finally, certain that they weren’t being spied on by the Azhooliens’ informants, Benjamin relaxed. “Of course I can get you the transponder codes.”

  He
rummaged through a few desk drawers and pulled out a log book filled with hand-written notes. “Rigs as fancy as a Tyger Imperial won’t even let you operate them without broadcasting a signal. Tyger Systems claims that it makes their vehicles impossible to steal.” He scanned the book.

  “So… is it?” Guy asked.

  “Impossible to steal? Absolutely… but that that didn’t stop me.”

  “But you beat the system and stole the impossible car?”

  “Of course,” Benjamin grinned. “I couldn’t spoof the security chip or bypass it. So I just swapped out the transponder with one I ordered as a replacement, sent it to a guy who owned one and paid some kid to stand outside and accept the delivery at the address and then send it to me.” He wrote down the code on a slip of paper and handed it to the Investigators. “Obviously…”

  “Yeah. We didn’t get this from you,” Rock promised.

  Guy had his com in hand and reported the code to the crew on the Crusader. He slipped the earpiece into place and hopped aboard his ATV.

  “The satellite’s got a ping,” Juice’s voice reported. “It’s got a lock on the vehicle. Zooming in… it looks like they’re just outside of the city a good distance, halfway between Newhope and a handful of small mining towns. Should be a short trip to get our lost cargo.”

  “Roger that,” Rock said on the shared channel. “We’ll be back in just a few minutes.” He hit the throttle and sped ahead of Guy.

  They raced in hot and parked the ATVs in the cargo hold of the Rickshaw Crusader. Moments later, with the cargo door shutting on hydraulic arms, the ship climbed for air on its VTOL thrusters.

  18

  Dr. Meng paced in front of the bank of monitors and wrung his hands. Remote, drone cameras fed the screens.

  He scowled at the back entry to his laboratory and cursed at it. His contact was late; if Meng hated anything more than stoppages to his research, it was tardiness.