Uttering no word, Goss went to stand by the window with his back to them while Frue mouthed words in monosyllables as if he were still in a state of shock. Goss spoke some unrecognizable words into his com as he looked critically down on the city. Yul followed his gaze, feeling the blood returning to his cheeks, registering no emotion over his present predicament or the abundance of multi-windowed buildings clustered below. Pale sunlight streamed down from a nearly cloudless sky on their shiny summits—this world so different from the murk of the Orb in which he had scrambled for his life.
It was yet another hour before Mathias appeared. The CEO of Cybernetics Corp, an imposing figure, strode purposefully through a door better suited for a cathedral. A short wait by Mathias’s standards, an imposition which he inflicted by dint of his executive-privilege.
Yul had never met the man. He had only been propositioned at the last minute by a messenger of his, for the faraway mission to Xeses.
“Well, gentlemen, it appears we meet under less than happy circumstances,” Mathias said. His long face, high cheekbones and grey, owlike eyes were part of the imposing mystique of the man. They did not mask the hard, arrogant exterior, though, that Yul had more or less expected. Mathias was of middle years, clean cut, wearing an expensive camel-hair suit, a chocolate-brown tie that highlighted the straight hair and gold cufflinks, but there was something odd about him, something that at first impression did not ring true. Yul had felt much the same upon meeting Goss—always considered himself a good judge of character. A synthetic? Could Mathias be owner of a large galactic company, and a synthetic? No, it couldn’t be. The idea was repugnant.
He took Mathias’s outstretched hand, more out of necessity than any respect for the man—the grip was strong—a trademark of a cyborg.
“I’m sure we can come to a resolution of this little problem of ours,” Mathias said in his disarming voice.
Frue did not get up; the pilot sat sprawled on the nearest divan, his eyes staring listlessly past Yul and Mathias. Frue, returned from the dead, his face haggard, scratched and pale as a ghost, looked as if he had aged ten years.
Mathias raked Frue a cursory glance, lifting a finger to indicate that he should stand. Frue paid no heed to the request.
“He was in one of the tanks,” explained Goss.
The word ‘tank’ seemed to snap Frue out of his daze. “I feel like it broke every bone in my body. Then it tossed me into the water. Scab-faced squid horror,” his quavering voice rasped.
Yul recalled scenes from that grisly episode back in the Orb’s tank room: the greenish water, the lolling form of Frue.
Mathias motioned to two of the marines that they might go.
Goss frowned but said nothing.
“Mr. Frue, what to do?” Mathias mused, tapping his chin. “I have other missions for you. Take him to the briefing room—with Axle.” Goss’s nearest minion saw to it and escorted the pilot away.
Yul did not have a good feeling about Frue’s future.
Greer dead. Hurd too. Regers... He twitched in unease, a frisson of dissatisfaction piking his veins. Regers’ death still disturbed him. What could he have done? He had tried to help him, but had been rebuked, Regers responding with violence as his usual custom.
Yul pushed the memories out of his mind.
Mathias glared at Goss. “Drag me into a war with the Zikri? You flub the job and lose another of my ships?”
Goss shrugged. “Couldn’t be avoided, sir. You wanted the samples.”
Mathias’s teeth flashed in anger. “You left men down there.”
“They have nothing to tie them to you.”
“Bullshit! The Zikri aren’t fools. What’s the first thing they’re going to do when they round up the strays?”
“The bodies and suits had no markings.”
“What about my Wren?”
“Destroyed utterly.”
Mathias scowled, looking as if he trusted neither Goss nor Yul. “Not the Albatross, though. Just the Wren.”
Mathias pierced Yul with an invasive stare, as if studying a disobedient attack dog. “That you survived this utter fiasco is a testament to your skill. Or perhaps your tenacity, as I see it.”
Goss trembled with anger. “The man’s a menace, Mathias. He’s not to be trusted.”
“My captain doesn’t agree with me,” Mathias laughed, jerking a thumb at his fuming commando. “I’ve another mission for you.”
Yul’s mouth twisted in defiance.
Mathias held up his hand. “Don’t say a word. Regers and Hurd didn’t make it. Frue only lived because of your efforts. The facts speak for themselves.”
“Get somebody else to do your dirty work,” grunted Yul.
Mathias balled a fist. “I don’t think so. You’ll do as I say. As I see it, you pay back the ship you owe me, until then, you’re mine.”
“You mean the ship that Frue, Regers and the others owe you too.”
“If dead men could pay, I’d agree.”
“What do you want from me?”
Mathias glowered. “Two years ago my chief scientist, a man called Hresh, started building something. The bastard could have made me millions with his breakthrough, but took off with everything: designs, schematics, formulae, for the next generation of AI that could have shocked the galactic worlds. If I ever find him, I’ll hang him out to dry. They were legally the property of Cybernetics Corp.”
Yul shrugged. “So? I’ve heard this sob story before. I’m sure Hresh thought differently.”
“I don’t give a shit what Hresh thinks!” roared Mathias. “I want the man buried and the plans to the tech back in my hands. He’s a mild-mannered genius, but a deadly viper. It’s revolutionary technology worth 80 million credits and possibly billions in the future. Reports indicate he has formed his own
