The Arks of Andromeda (The Imperium Chronicles Book 1) Page 5

  "It doesn’t matter, Duncan," she said. "She's just as dead to me as if she really died."

  The boy simply looked at her without making a sound.

  "Sometimes there's a price to pay and I used her to pay it," the senator said. "I didn't need her anymore. I needed a son and once I was pregnant with you, that's all that counted. Everything I've done has been for you. You're my legacy!"

  The mansion computer registered a bright light, blinding its sensors for a moment. When they came back online, Duncan's body was rolling lifelessly down the staircase.

  Senator Marshall ran to the step where the boy's leg had become entangled in the railing. Graying hair dangling around her tear-stained face, she glared up at the killer still on the landing above.

  "Why? Why?" she asked. "Why did you kill him and not me?"

  "You weren’t the target," he told her. "Emily made it very clear not to harm you."

  "But why Duncan?"

  "He was the one thing you cherished the most, him and your precious legacy. Now you have neither."

  The mansion computer watched the man disappear back into the shadows, unable to track him due to the virus still surging through the system. The computer could do little more than watch the senator crying beside her dead son, her legacy turned to dust.

  Chapter Five

  Jessica Doric decided to splurge and take the transmat all the way to the West End, saving several hours in traffic. It cost more than what she liked to spend, but things had taken a turn for the worse lately and she wanted to treat herself to something exotic. Considering her recent run of bad luck, Doric stood in the transmat booth wondering whether getting her atoms dematerialized here and then rematerialized somewhere else was the best idea. Before she could hit the CANCEL button, however, she was standing in a nearly identical station across town. She also had the vague sensation of a hundred spiders crawling over her skin.

  In her early 30s, Jessica Doric wore a tweed skirt and a white blouse she had bought the previous day. Her hair was straight, dish-water blond, and her eyes were a dull brown. Outside the transmat station, Doric found a bench near a line of upscale shops. She sat and pulled a datapad from a handbag slung over her shoulder.

  A news popup filled the screen:

  MURDER IN WEST END!

  UNKNOWN ASSAILANT KILLS SENATOR'S SON.

  DETAILS TONIGHT ON VOX NEWS!

  Swiping the popup away, she pulled up her email program and viewed a message she received yesterday from none other than Lord Maycare, the famous sportsman and playboy. As a university professor—former professor, she corrected herself—Doric was puzzled why a celebrity like Maycare would send her an invitation to his estate, saying only that he had a proposition for her. She hoped it wasn't a hoax...

  She closed the email only to see another one, a few weeks older, from the Dean of the University of Regalis. Her eyes fixated on the words TERMINATION OF EMPLOYMENT before she could close it too.

  Doric stashed the datapad in her handbag and got up. She continued along the sidewalk, occasionally glancing into the store windows. There was nothing she could actually afford, but it didn't hurt to look. Just ahead of her, Doric saw a woman exiting a boutique. The woman was a few years younger than her, with long, blood-red hair and striking gold eyes, obviously from cosmetic surgery. Doric instantly recognized her as Lady Sophia, the notorious handmaiden to Princess Katherine Augustus and, allegedly, paramour to Prince Alexander, Katherine's brother.

  Lady Sophia swept her hair back and stepped into a private grav car waiting for her at the curb. The car rose several feet and whisked away into the air.

  Lady Sophia was exactly the kind of girl Lord Maycare was usually seen with, Doric thought. She would hang on his arm at whatever sporting event he happened to be attending.

  What a creep, she thought.

  Doric took a taxi the rest of the way to Maycare's estate. The self-guided grav car landed outside the main gate and wished her a good-day from the speaker on the dashboard. Doric got out and saw a butlerbot standing by the gate. The robot was blue with silver trim, and looked like a model many years out of date.

  "Hello," the robot said. "Are you, by chance, Jessica Doric?"

  "That's me," she replied. "I'm supposed to meet with Lord Maycare, apparently?"

  "You don't sound convinced."

  "I'm really not..." she trailed off, looking like she expected police to arrive shortly.

  "On the contrary," the robot said. "You are most definitely expected."

  "That's a relief!"

  "My name is Bentley," he said. "Lord Maycare's personal butlerbot. Please follow me..."

  The android led Doric down the driveway toward the main house, a three-story mansion made from stone and mortar like an old fortification. Just above the main door hung the Maycare family crest, a white stallion against a field of blue. While not one of the Five Families, the Maycares had garnered much respect among the nobility, and Devlin Maycare had done nothing but improve that reputation.

  The door opened on its own as Bentley approached. Inside, Doric found herself in a great hall with arches holding up a second-floor balcony and a ceiling of stained glass. Throughout the room, antiquities decorated every corner and oil paintings hung on every wall. Doric paused, even as Bentley continued walking, and stared with her mouth slightly open.

  "This is amazing!" she remarked.

  The butlerbot stopped and turned back.

  "Yes, madam," he said. "Lord Maycare has an extensive collection."

  "These should be in a museum."

  "My sentiments exactly," the robot agreed, "but he seems to think they'd be better off here."

  "Really?" Doric asked. "Why is that?"

  "All in good time, Miss Doric. All in good time."

  The rules of grav-ball were straightforward: try to get the ball into the opponent's goal without, hopefully, becoming severely injured. Lord Devlin Maycare pondered this as an opposing player drove his helmet into the court’s transparent wall. As his forehead pressed against the inside of his helmet, Maycare noticed a young woman on the other side of the wall, standing next to his robot, Bentley.

  "Ah, my three o'clock is here," he thought.

  Using his legs, Maycare pushed away hard against the partition, holding a circular ball close against his chest. Along the way, he elbowed the opposing player hard, just below the chin. Droplets of sweat, and a few of blood, sprayed fan-like into the weightlessness.

  A standard grav-ball court was a cylinder 100 yards long and 50 yards in diameter. The goal was a round hole, three yards wide, on either end, guarded by a goalie covered in heavy padding. While Maycare's own court was only half as long as a regulation one, he had it built in his estate’s basement so he could enjoy being pummeled whenever he liked.

  A teammate, thrusters burning from the bottom of his boots, came down the court toward Maycare who passed him the eight-inch ball. The teammate, now with the ball, continued moving along his original vector until one of the opposing players speared him in the back with a helmet, sending him careening into a shallow spin off to the side. Maycare watched him collide with a crunch against the wall as the ball floated aimlessly away.

  Firing his own thrusters, Maycare flew toward the ball, knowing everyone else was doing the same. When they all met, they formed a mass of bodies, collapsing in on itself, only to shoot back out again in seemingly random directions. The confusion of arms and legs looked like a bomb had exploded. In the middle of it, Maycare emerged with the ball on his way to the goal.

  The goalie spread his arms and legs out to make himself as large as possible, but, floating in front of the goal, he was powerless as Maycare slung the ball past him.

  Maycare chuckled, never doubting the outcome.

  Bentley waited patiently with Miss Doric until Lord Maycare joined them after taking a shower. Maycare always liked to be presentable whenever meeting a young woman, regardless of the reason. Bentley had it on good authority that women, human or oth
erwise, found Master Maycare irresistible. That good authority was, in fact, Lord Maycare himself.

  To be fair, Bentley could bear witness to his master's many successes with the opposite sex. The media, especially tabloids, were filled with pictures of Maycare and his succession of girlfriends, fiancées, and, in one instance, girlfriend and fiancée at the same time.

  Bentley finally saw his master appear through the locker room door, wearing a white terry cloth robe emblazoned with the Maycare family crest. Bentley sincerely hoped his master wore something more beneath the robe.

  "Professor Jessica Doric, My Lord," Bentley said.

  Even at 42, Maycare was physically imposing with wide, muscular shoulders bulging beneath the terry cloth. With warm, brown eyes, he watched Doric while he flattened his blond, damp hair.

  "Call me Devlin," Maycare replied, shaking Doric's hand.

  "A pleasure to meet you," she said, withdrawing her hand quickly.

  "Do you go by Jess or Jessica?" Devlin asked.

  "I prefer Jessica," she told him. "Or Professor Doric if you don't mind, My Lord."

  He smiled, revealing a set of perfect teeth.

  "I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here?" he said.

  "Well, yes, actually."

  "It's my understanding you were recently let go by the University of Regalis."

  "Yes."

  "In fact," Maycare continued, "didn't they disband the entire department of xeno studies?"

  Doric gave a long sigh. "Yes."

  "Doesn't that seem a bit odd?" Maycare asked.

  "Yes!"

  He nodded toward Bentley. "Tell her what you found."

  "It has come to our attention," Bentley said, "that a sizable donation was given to the university shortly before the dean, with full backing of the governing board, dissolved your department."

  "A donation?" Doric asked. "By whom?"

  "Warlock Industries," Bentley replied.

  "Why would Warlock Industries want to get rid of xeno studies?" she said.

  "Warlock Industries has a long history of researching, locating, and then removing alien technology from planets throughout the Imperium," Maycare said. "Your research of xenology, specifically xeno tech, threatened to steal away the same alien artifacts they work so hard to steal themselves."

  "So, they closed down my department..."

  "Precisely," Maycare replied. "In some ways, it's a compliment to your abilities."

  "I'm flattered," Doric said with a sarcastic smile.

  "But cheer up, Jess!" he said. "I have a proposition I'd like you to consider."

  "What kind of proposition?"

  "Are you familiar with the Maycare Institute of Xeno Studies?" he asked.

  Doric paused, thinking for a moment. "Um, no."

  "Well, that's probably because I just made it up! Also, I'd like you to run its research and acquisition wing…"

  Bentley, who had grown quite good at reading people's expressions, saw confusion on Doric's face. Ever helpful, the robot said, "He's offering you a job."

  "Seriously?" she asked.

  "Don't I look serious?" Maycare wondered.

  "I can’t tell,” she replied. "This all seems very sudden. I don't usually like rushing into things."

  Maycare laughed. "Really? That's the only way I do things!"

  "Indeed," Bentley concurred. "It's really quite exhausting."

  "Alright," Doric said. "I'll take your offer, but I demand full autonomy."

  "Certainly."

  "And our working relationship must remain strictly professional. I know your history and I don't want any funny business."

  "Bentley will keep me on my best behavior," Maycare said.

  The butlerbot looked at his master and then back at Miss Doric. "I can't make any promises…"

  When Henry Riff got the call from his old professor, Jessica Doric, he was cooking noodles on a small hotplate in the center of his studio apartment. Genuinely excited to hear Doric's voice again, he spilled some of the boiling water on the carpet.

  "Are you alright, Henry?" Doric asked, her face appearing on the phone now lying on the floor.

  Henry straightened the pot of noodles on the hotplate while doing his best not to step with his bare feet in the puddle of hot liquid. Realizing someone was talking to him, he said, "What? Yes! Most definitely!"

  "Good," Doric said. "How would you like a job working for me?

  Henry picked up the phone.

  "Well, sure!" Henry replied. "There isn't much demand for a xeno studies assistant now that they closed the department."

  "No, I suppose not."

  "I'm real sorry they let you go, Professor," Henry said. "I've really missed working with you."

  "Thank you, Henry."

  A long, toothy grin brightened Henry's freckled face as he swatted away a few mousy strands of hair hanging over his forehead.

  The next day, Doric sent Henry a taxi that took him directly to the Maycare estate where an old robot introduced himself as Bentley. Not really listening, Henry nodded as his eyes darted from one thing to another until the robot took him by the hand and led him into the house. Through a series of corridors and doorways, Bentley brought the young man to a library where Professor Doric was waiting.

  The library was a long hall with massive fireplaces on either end. Bookcases were built into the walls, the tomes visible behind cabinet doors enclosed with brass wire mesh. Heavy tables ran down the center, with sofas and stuffed leather chairs in between. A parquet floor was visible wherever intricately woven rugs failed to cover it.

  "There you are!" Doric said, walking from behind a table covered in ancient manuscripts.

  "Here he is indeed," Bentley replied. "Will you be needing anything else from me, Miss Doric?"

  "No, that's all, thank you," she said.

  Seeing Doric again, Henry tried focusing on his words so they would come out coherently.

  "Hi, Professor!" he managed. "This place looks amazing!"

  "Calm down, Henry," Doric said. "Do you remember what we talked about?"

  "For example?" he asked.

  "The work we'll be doing..."

  "Oh, yeah, sure," he said. "We're looking for alien technology for Mister Maycare."

  "Lord Maycare."

  "Right, I've never talked to a real nobleman before. Is he nice?"

  "That's really not important, Henry," Doric said.

  "Oh, sure. Definitely."

  Professor Doric put Henry to work immediately, showing him the most important texts stored in the library. To Maycare's credit, he had accumulated an impressive collection of books, many of alien origin. Within hours, Henry and Doric were lost amid exotic tomes from all over the Imperium.

  A few days later, Henry stared in horror at the K'thonian Codex, an infamous volume bound with the tanned skin of flayed enemies and written in ink made from blood. Feeling sick to his stomach, Henry noticed someone large beside him.

  It was Lord Maycare.

  A dry, retching sound came from Henry's mouth, which he slapped shut with his hand.

  "Can I help you, Lord Maycare?" Doric asked from the other side of the cluttered table.

  "Please call me Devlin, won't you?" Maycare said.

  "I'll try."

  "Who's your friend?" the lord asked.

  "This is Henry Riff, my assistant," Doric said. "I hope it's alright I invited him here—I needed the help."

  Henry stared, eyes wide in terror, at the man towering over him.

  "Of course, Jess," Devlin waved his hand. "Whatever you need is perfectly fine."

  She nodded. "Good, but I’d prefer you called me Professor Doric."

  Ignoring her, Maycare scanned the random objects on the table. "How goes it then?"

  "Well, fine I guess."

  "Have you come up with anything promising?"

  "Not really."

  Henry chirped like a dying bird.

  "Oh," Doric corrected herself, "actually Henry found s
omething interesting, but we'll need to do more research first."

  "Really?" Maycare said, pulling up a chair. "What did you find, Henry?"

  From beneath a book called Necronean Death Cantos, Henry pulled out a printout and waved it in the air like a treasure map.

  Doric took the paper.

  "Back in the year 652 Imperial Standard," Doric began, "a survey team landed on a world called Hekla VII. They were looking for worlds suitable for future colonies, but all they got was a dead planet covered in ice and snow. However, they did discover an abandoned temple at the base of an active volcano. Before leaving, they took holovids of the hieroglyphs written on the temple walls."

  "Has anyone been there since?" Maycare asked.

  "Um," Henry stammered in a voice just above a whisper, "I did a search for flight plans and there hasn't been a registered visit to that planet since the survey team. That's 48 years."

  "Thank you, son," Maycare said.

  Henry managed a tortured grin as he nearly disappeared between his shoulder blades.

  "Anything else?" Maycare said.

  "As a matter of fact," Doric went on, "the survey team recorded several energy readings. The data didn't match the protocols they needed for a new settlement, so they just filed it away and forgot about it. However, looking at the readings now, I'm convinced they're caused by xeno tech somewhere in that temple."

  Lord Maycare slapped the table hard, nearly causing Henry to jump out of his chair. "You've convinced me!"

  "Of what?" Doric said, staring at him sideways.

  "Let's go take a look!"

  "With all due respect, My Lord," Doric said, "there's really no reason to go until we've done at least another week of research. There might be alien tech, but that's really more of an educated guess."

  "Nonsense," Maycare said. "I've acted on guesses half as educated as that!"

  "Hmm," Doric murmured skeptically.

  "Bentley!" Maycare yelled, sending Henry almost under the table.

  The butlerbot peered through the doorway. "Yes, My Lord?"

  "Call the star port and have my ship prepared for launch!"

  "Of course, sir," the robot said and disappeared again.