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Authors: Peter Bingham-Pankratz
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initially—but, upon closer inspection, at the
bottom of the emergency staircase lay the bloodied, crumpled body of a
dark-skinned Earthman.
Grinek bounded down the steps and knelt by the body. Two
energy bursts in the back, one in the leg. He turned him over. The face was
Vertulfo’s, lifeless and caked in blood. With lightning speed, Grinek patted
down the man’s jacket but found only a com and an ID card. Whatever information
Vertulfo had, he passed it on to the capped Earthman. And that man was nowhere
in sight.
As the saying went, an
important man cannot stay hidden forever.
Believing Vertulfo’s com might prove useful, Grinek stuffed
the thing in the pocket of his vest. Then he removed his own com and dialed the
operations ship in orbit. One impatient ring later, a deck officer answered.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Send a shuttle. Do you have my coordinates?”
A moment’s pause on the other end. “Yes, Commander. Are you
in a difficult situation?”
“You will need to be wary. The Earth authorities will be
swarming here soon. Just follow my signal and retrieve me without delay.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Grinek hung up and put the communicator in his pocket. A
buoy blinked and bobbed in the harbor, and though he despised water like he
despised Earthmen, Grinek knew the buoy was his only refuge from the Earth
police.
Mentally, he steeled himself for the wetness and cold and
climbed out onto the walkway railing. He holstered his pistol and looked down
at waves lapping against the wall. With a nimble dive, Grinek splashed into
Tokyo Bay, his exit from the mall far less obtrusive than his entrance.
Chapter 8
Roan had met Aaron sometime in July 2490, on a run out to the
Centauri colony. One of its continents had just endured another rebellion and
Roan—fresh out of the military and a crewman on the Philoria —was shipping a bunch of Company-approved electric
generators to the local government. During some evening downtime, Roan walked
into a bar and found Centauri whiskey tasted like someone had ground up a corn
husk, just as people said. He stumbled outside for a quick breather and found
Aaron sitting on the back steps. Two empty bottles were at his side and he was
swigging another, but Aaron was as sober as a teetotaler. He pointed to the sky
at a faint comet directly ahead. The colonists believed it was a good omen
signaling God approved of the end of the war.
Did you know there are
more galaxies in the universe than stars in the Milky Way , Aaron had asked.
Roan didn’t say anything.
I think about it a lot
when I’m somewhere dark , Aaron had continued. Far away from all the light pollution. You can’t find those places on
Earth anymore. When I look at the night sky, I feel like I’m looking at God.
So you believe God
exists ? Roan had asked him, the bad whiskey tumbling through his veins.
Aaron replied that a scientist had to remain neutral in terms of politics and
religion. He only dealt in the truth.
Roan pushed. But do
you have an opinion? Scientists can have those.
Aaron took a long swig his beer. He was meditating on the
question, searching for the appropriate answer.
The facts spoke for
themselves , Aaron said.
Goddamn it all, Roan thought, now a decade later and
screaming across Tokyo in a hovercar. Why was that the first memory that came to his mind, not their trip to
Comet Tsali, or that drunken batball match on Omega II? He didn’t want to
remember his friend with a question that was never answered, with a belief or
non-belief that was never clarified. Whatever his true feelings were, though,
Aaron knew the answer about God now. Roan pounded the side of the skimmer.
The man didn’t even get a last word. Everyone deserves a
last word.
“Are you feeling well, Mr. Roan?” David asked, eyes on the
road.
“Yeah, yeah.” Roan shunned tears, but this time he was
coming damn close to a rainstorm. He bottled it up. Didn’t want to be caught
crying in front
bottom of the emergency staircase lay the bloodied, crumpled body of a
dark-skinned Earthman.
Grinek bounded down the steps and knelt by the body. Two
energy bursts in the back, one in the leg. He turned him over. The face was
Vertulfo’s, lifeless and caked in blood. With lightning speed, Grinek patted
down the man’s jacket but found only a com and an ID card. Whatever information
Vertulfo had, he passed it on to the capped Earthman. And that man was nowhere
in sight.
As the saying went, an
important man cannot stay hidden forever.
Believing Vertulfo’s com might prove useful, Grinek stuffed
the thing in the pocket of his vest. Then he removed his own com and dialed the
operations ship in orbit. One impatient ring later, a deck officer answered.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Send a shuttle. Do you have my coordinates?”
A moment’s pause on the other end. “Yes, Commander. Are you
in a difficult situation?”
“You will need to be wary. The Earth authorities will be
swarming here soon. Just follow my signal and retrieve me without delay.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Grinek hung up and put the communicator in his pocket. A
buoy blinked and bobbed in the harbor, and though he despised water like he
despised Earthmen, Grinek knew the buoy was his only refuge from the Earth
police.
Mentally, he steeled himself for the wetness and cold and
climbed out onto the walkway railing. He holstered his pistol and looked down
at waves lapping against the wall. With a nimble dive, Grinek splashed into
Tokyo Bay, his exit from the mall far less obtrusive than his entrance.
Chapter 8
Roan had met Aaron sometime in July 2490, on a run out to the
Centauri colony. One of its continents had just endured another rebellion and
Roan—fresh out of the military and a crewman on the Philoria —was shipping a bunch of Company-approved electric
generators to the local government. During some evening downtime, Roan walked
into a bar and found Centauri whiskey tasted like someone had ground up a corn
husk, just as people said. He stumbled outside for a quick breather and found
Aaron sitting on the back steps. Two empty bottles were at his side and he was
swigging another, but Aaron was as sober as a teetotaler. He pointed to the sky
at a faint comet directly ahead. The colonists believed it was a good omen
signaling God approved of the end of the war.
Did you know there are
more galaxies in the universe than stars in the Milky Way , Aaron had asked.
Roan didn’t say anything.
I think about it a lot
when I’m somewhere dark , Aaron had continued. Far away from all the light pollution. You can’t find those places on
Earth anymore. When I look at the night sky, I feel like I’m looking at God.
So you believe God
exists ? Roan had asked him, the bad whiskey tumbling through his veins.
Aaron replied that a scientist had to remain neutral in terms of politics and
religion. He only dealt in the truth.
Roan pushed. But do
you have an opinion? Scientists can have those.
Aaron took a long swig his beer. He was meditating on the
question, searching for the appropriate answer.
The facts spoke for
themselves , Aaron said.
Goddamn it all, Roan thought, now a decade later and
screaming across Tokyo in a hovercar. Why was that the first memory that came to his mind, not their trip to
Comet Tsali, or that drunken batball match on Omega II? He didn’t want to
remember his friend with a question that was never answered, with a belief or
non-belief that was never clarified. Whatever his true feelings were, though,
Aaron knew the answer about God now. Roan pounded the side of the skimmer.
The man didn’t even get a last word. Everyone deserves a
last word.
“Are you feeling well, Mr. Roan?” David asked, eyes on the
road.
“Yeah, yeah.” Roan shunned tears, but this time he was
coming damn close to a rainstorm. He bottled it up. Didn’t want to be caught
crying in front
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