Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2) Read online

  A number of Caroons entered and exited the building through a giant entryway located halfway along the building. Nigel used a small slate and translated the sign over a normal-sized doorway at the end of the building as “Company Offices.”

  Nigel led the group to the smaller door, which he would have to bend down to enter. He inspected it for a couple of seconds, then turned to look at the group of CASPers. “I don’t think you’re going to fit,” he noted.

  Mason approached the doorway and looked down on it. “Not unless it opens up a bunch behind it.” He reached down and pressed the entry stud. The door opened, and he bent down to scan the interior. “Nope. It’s going to be difficult to get the suits in there.” He paused and then asked hopefully, “Unless I can knock down a wall or something?”

  “No. No breaking the Caroon’s stuff. We don’t know if they had anything to do with it yet.”

  “Well, I can’t let you go in there alone, sir, especially since we don’t know whether they had anything to do with it or not.”

  “Well, I have to go in so we can get paid, if nothing else. They may also have information on where Parisa is. I’ll tell you what; I will maintain radio comms. If anything goes wrong, you are authorized to knock down walls or whatever else you need to do to get me out.”

  “I don’t like it, sir, but I also don’t like not getting paid even more, and I’d surely like to see your sister again. I’ll let you go in there, but I’m going to spread the men out around the building. If you call, we’ll be in there ASAP, from a variety of directions.”

  Cell Block, Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “I’m happy to tell you your end is near,” Tranayl said.

  “I’ve known you for quite some time now,” Parisa replied; “I wouldn’t say you look or sound very happy.”

  “Of course I’m happy; your life is measured in days. As soon as your brother leaves this world, I get to kill you. I’ll probably eat you afterwards. Or perhaps I will capture him and make him watch…Yes, making him watch as I devour you would be much more fun.”

  “Wait a minute…if my usefulness is at an end, that means my brother must be here. That’s why you’re mad! He came and recaptured the base and killed off all your little troopers, didn’t he! Hahahaha! I told you he was smarter than you!”

  “Yes, he is here, and yes, they recaptured the base. They won’t, however, find this place. I suspect they will search for you a bit near the base and then give up, collect their payment, and leave. When they go, you will die.”

  “I thought I was the bait to get him here. If he’s here, why don’t you just kill me now?”

  “Are you in that much of a hurry to die?”

  “I’m not in a hurry to die; in fact, I hope I’m still alive when he gets here as I can’t wait to see what he does to you. Still, you told me I was only useful as a means to bring him to the planet; now that he’s here, what you said doesn’t add up.”

  “Maybe he’s not really even here, or perhaps everything I’ve told you is a lie. Have you ever considered that?”

  “Repeatedly, however, there’s no point in it. The only reason you’d lie to me is to give me false information I would act on when I got out of here, and we both know you can’t let me out of here alive. Therefore, I doubt what you’ve told me is a lie.” She nodded a couple of times then added, “He’s here all right, and I doubt you will outlive me by more than a handful of minutes.”

  Tranayl drew a pistol from his belt. “I could shoot you right now!”

  “I’m sure you could, and there’s nothing I could do to stop it. But nothing’s changed since this discussion started. I still have value for some reason, so I doubt you’ll kill me now while my brother’s so close—that’s it! You don’t want to kill me now because you’re afraid my brother will figure out your plan. I’ll bet you’re just keeping me alive because you know he’s going to find you, and you want to have something available to trade him for sparing your life.”

  Tranayl’s antennae dipped and Parisa could tell she’d scored a point. The alien stepped closer to her cell and put his head up against the bars. “Why I’m keeping you alive is none of your business,” he said slowly, “but I can tell you one thing—you will never leave here alive.”

  Manager’s Office, Peskall’s Pretties, Planet Moorhouse

  Nigel walked into the building, hunched over to keep from hitting his head. Although the lights turned on automatically, they were dimmer than what would typically be seen in a human building. The hallway led off into the gloom, and he took several steps along the passageway. The door shut behind him, completely blotting out any trace of sunlight, and the hallway dimmed further.

  “Assistant Manager for Exploration,” read the first door on the left as translated by his slate. “I’m not looking for the flunkies,” he muttered. He looked at the door on the right. “Assistant Manager for Maintenance.”

  Another 10 paces brought him to the end of the hallway and three additional doors. “Administration,” on the left, “Assistant Manager for Operations” on the right, and finally, “Manager,” on the door at the end of the passage.

  He opened the Manager’s door and walked into a small anteroom. The space was dominated by a desk, behind which a Caroon sat, working on a slate. Several chairs in a variety of shapes lined the two side walls, and a door sat behind the Caroon at the desk.

  “May I help you?” the Caroon asked, looking up from the slate.

  “Yes, I am Nigel Shirazi, the head of Asbaran Solutions. I am here to speak to the Manager and collect our terminal payment for the completion of the contract.”

  The Caroon looked back down at its slate. “I don’t see an appointment for you?” he asked as he looked up again.

  “No, I don’t have an appointment; however, the contract ended several hours ago. As such, I would have thought you’d be expecting me.”

  “Please wait here.”

  The Caroon got up and went through the door. After a few minutes, it came back and took its seat at the desk. “If you will wait a few minutes, the manager will be happy to meet with you.”

  “How’s it going?” Mason radioed.

  “Okay so far,” Nigel replied. “The manager has agreed to meet with me.”

  “Let me know if you need me…I’ll be right there.”

  Nigel sat in a chair that worked for his human physiology. After another five minutes, the door opened and a Caroon wearing a large amount of jewelry, including a red diamond necklace, came out. “Mr. Shirazi,” the Caroon said, “if you would come in please?”

  “Please leave your rifle here,” the secretary said.

  Nigel laid the rifle on the secretary’s desk. “I will be back for this,” Nigel replied. “And I will hold you personally accountable if anything happens to it.”

  “I’m going into the manager’s office,” Nigel radioed. “I have to leave my rifle in the outer office. If anything’s going to happen, it will happen now. Be ready.”

  Nigel followed the manager into the office. The interior reeked of opulence, with an immaculately polished, burled bubinga wood desk, a variety of over-stuffed chairs, and paintings framed in precious metals. The ceiling in the office was tall enough for him to stand upright, and he stretched his back gratefully.

  “Please have a seat,” the Caroon said. “I am Ka-Tal, the manager of this facility. I understand you are here to collect payment on your contract.”

  “That is correct,” Nigel said. He remained standing, having noted the chairs on his side of the desk were significantly shorter than the manager’s; if he sat, he would have been looking up at the manager.

  The manager looked at Nigel. When Nigel didn’t sit, he said, “As you prefer; you may stand if you wish.” He pulled a jeweled box from a desk drawer. “I have here the payment for successfully completing your contract. 20 million credits.” He pushed the box across the desk toward Nigel.

  The human didn’t move to take it. “You’re forgetting something, I
believe,” Nigel noted. “There was also a combat clause of 5% per occurrence, with a maximum of 25%. Over the course of the past year, there have been five combat actions, for a total of an additional five million credits.”

  “Can you prove there actually were five separate combat occurrences?”

  Nigel walked around the desk to stand next to the manager. “I would be happy to show you the dead bodies of my troops from their latest round of combat a couple of days ago if you would like.” He reached over and grabbed a handful of the manager’s cloak at the shoulder. “Come on; I’ll take you there right now. We had to move the dead Besquith’s bodies as they had begun to stink like the backside of a Blorph during the rut.”

  “No, no, that will be all right,” the manager said, trying to pull away. “I will take your word for it.”

  Nigel released the manager, who smoothed his cloak, and then opened another drawer and removed a smaller box. He handed it to Nigel. “Here is another five million credits.”

  Nigel opened the box. It was full of what looked like red diamonds, but he wasn’t a gemologist and really had no idea what he was supposed to look for in them. He set the box down on the desk and opened the larger box. It was full of larger red gems.

  “How do I know this really is 25 million credits?”

  “Well, the value of gems does vary over time, and even though it’s 25 million credits today, it might not still be when you go to sell them.”

  Nigel took a step back toward the manager. “Perhaps, then, you might want to make sure they’re going to be worth 25 million when we get them to market. You wouldn’t want us to think you shortchanged us, now would you?”

  “No, no, we definitely wouldn’t want that. On second thought, perhaps you should have a few more.” He opened the center drawer, pulled out a few loose diamonds, and dropped them into the larger box. “Here, that should ensure you come out on the right side of 25 million.”

  “Thank you,” Nigel replied. “You know we can find you if this is short, right?”

  “I’m sure you can,” the manager acknowledged. “Now, if we have everything concluded, I have a lot of details to attend to regarding the transshipment of the rest of the gems back to our corporate offices.”

  “Thank you very much,” Nigel said, picking up both boxes. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Please think of Asbaran for all your future security needs.”

  Nigel walked to the door, but then turned back around. “Oh,” he said, “I had one last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Where’s Parisa?”

  “Who?”

  “Nothing,” Nigel said. “Sorry to have bothered you.” He went back into the outer office, ducking back down as he exited the manager’s office. His rifle was still on the desk; Nigel retrieved the weapon and left the office.

  “I’ve got the diamonds,” he radioed, “and I’m on my way out.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cell Block, Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “Well, human, it doesn’t seem that your brother is as smart as you thought, after all,” Tranayl noted. “He’s taken his payment, and the humans have gone back to their ship.”

  “He was here?” Parisa asked. “Just now?”

  “Yes, he was just here, but there is no reason to start yelling. Besides, he won’t be able to hear you; he’s already left.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I expect he’s heading back to your miserable planet, and when he leaves, your usefulness to me will be at an end.”

  “You’re wrong,” Parisa Shirazi replied. “I told you; he’s much smarter than you give him credit for. Worse, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.” She chuckled in spite of her situation. “I should know that better than most.”

  “Obviously, he is not smart enough, for he took his payment and left.”

  A slapping sound came from up the tunnel, and the head of the outpost ran up. “The humans—” it said, out of breath. Like the rest of its kind, the Caroon was not built for sustained athletic endeavors.

  “Yes,” Tranayl said. “I know. The humans came and got their pay. It is unfortunate, but will ultimately not make any difference; we’ve killed a lot of their troops and destroyed an enormous amount of their equipment. What they collected won’t begin to replace what they’ve lost.”

  “They will find you,” Parisa said, “I told you, Nigel is smarter than you know. He’s smarter than even he knows. He’s going to figure it out, and he’s going to find you. He won’t be very forgiving when he does.”

  “I rather doubt that,” the MinSha commander said. “We—”

  “But that’s what I was trying to tell you!” the manager interrupted, earning a glare. “They left, but they have returned! My secretary is stalling them, but they must know something! They won’t leave!”

  “They? There was only one last time.”

  “There are three this time and two of them are in the combat suits the humans wear. If I do anything to their leader, the humans in the suits are sure to kill me!”

  “Then you must go and deal with them. Tell them they accomplished their contract, and their presence is no longer required. Just tell them you’re too busy to talk with them as you have to attend to the details of the diamond transfer.”

  “But I don’t like conflict!” the manager cried.

  The MinSha commander stalked across the tunnel to the manager and leaned over to look down on the Caroon from directly above. “You have not yet begun to experience conflict,” Tranayl whispered ominously. He sniffed. “Perhaps you are unaware that you smell particularly tasty when your pheromones are raging…it’s your choice. Conflict with the humans or conflict with me. I know which one I hope you choose.”

  The manager started to back away, but the MinSha was faster; it struck like a cobra and bit a small chunk out of the manager’s left ear. The manager fled down the hall, faster than he had come.

  “Pity,” Tranayl said as he watched the Caroon scurry away. The manager disappeared into the gloom, and the MinSha turned back to Parisa, who smiled.

  “Told you so,” the human said.

  “Just because he came back doesn’t mean he knows or suspects anything,” Tranayl said. “Perhaps the idiot manager didn’t pay them correctly.”

  “We shall see,” Parisa said, her smile larger than ever.

  “Yes, I think I shall go see.” Tranayl turned and stalked up the tunnel in the direction the manager had taken. He stopped after a few steps and looked over his shoulder. “Regardless of how this turns out,” he said, “you will soon be dead.”

  Caroon Outpost, Planet Moorhouse

  “So, we got paid, sir?” Sergeant Jeremy ‘Gemini’ Crouch asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Nigel replied. “I don’t know a whole lot about gems, but they look pretty.” He started walking back to where they left the APC. “I think I intimidated him enough that he wouldn’t intentionally rip us off.”

  “Did he have any information on your sister?” Mason asked.

  “No,” Nigel replied. “He said he didn’t know her.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Well, yeah, he seemed legitimately surprised when I asked him; I don’t think he was hiding anything. He honestly didn’t seem to know her.”

  “Damn.” After a pause, Mason asked, “So, where do you think she is? How are we going to find her?”

  “I don’t know,” Nigel said. “I thought he would have some information…” His words trailed off and he came to a stop in the middle of the road. “That’s it!” he exclaimed as the rest of the group came to a stop around him.

  “Uh, sir, most of us can’t read minds,” Mason noted. “Can you give us a little more to go on?”

  “Yes I can,” Nigel replied. “When I asked the manager where Parisa was, he asked, ‘Who’s that?’”

  “So? You already said he didn’t know.”

  “Right, but I didn’t tell him Par
isa was a person. I just asked, ‘Where’s Parisa?’ It could have been a thing as well as a person. He didn’t ask what a Parisa was, though; he knew it was a name.”

  “I don’t know, sir; that seems kinda thin. Maybe he just assumed you were looking for a person.”

  “No. I’m sure he knew it was a person; he’s just a better liar than I thought. I believed he didn’t know who she was, but he absolutely knew what I meant.”

  “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “We’re going to go back and kick his ass until he tells us what he knows.”

  “Now you’re talking, sir! That’s finally a plan I’m excited to be a part of. Can I come with you when you go back in?”

  “Yes, First Sergeant, I believe you can.”

  The humans returned to Peskall’s Pretties, and Nigel walked up to the door. “The ceiling is pretty low until we get to the manager’s office,” he said. “You’ll have to go on your hands and knees until we get there, but then you ought to be able to stand up.”

  “That’s fine,” Mason said. “I can shoot from my knees if I need to. I’ve got the armor, so I’ll go first, then you, sir, and Private Handley will bring up the rear.”

  Mason turned to the other troops. “Lewis and Gibson, go around back behind the building,” he ordered. “Freese and Davis, keep an eye on the front of the building. Kennedy and Crouch, take a look inside the building once the others are in position and see what the Caroons are doing. Maybe you’ll spook them into giving away something they’re hiding.”

  “Yes, Top,” the troops replied as they left for their patrol areas.

  “Good plan,” Nigel replied with a smile. “I would hate for the manager to run out a back door and miss out on our talk.”