Endurance: The Complete Series Read online

  Through all of this, Viktor did not look down at the table. He knew Areva was crouched beneath the tablecloth and had no desire to attract attention to her. Surely she had her gun out and was waiting for the moment to strike. She might not be willing to fire point blank on people anymore, but she had no qualms about shooting those who couldn’t see it coming. And very few ever saw her coming.

  “Where’s your date, Lieutenant?” the waiter asked Viktor.

  “Restroom.”

  “I’ll have someone check on that.” Though Viktor didn’t turn, he saw the waiter nod to someone across the room.

  “How many of you are here?” Viktor asked.

  “Enough.”

  “How did you get the arsenic into Rin’s glass? You must have known he checked his food before eating, so somehow you poisoned the wine after he had scanned it.”

  The waiter’s smile became genuine. “You’re quick, Lieutenant.”

  “Yet you did this without so much as touching it.”

  “Maybe we’ve invented teleportation.”

  “Unlikely.”

  A woman’s voice drew Viktor’s attention to the back of the restaurant. “The restroom’s empty,” she said. She was wearing an evening gown and huge, fake pearls. They had people posing as diners, then. Probably more than Viktor had spotted.

  He didn’t have time to look around for suspicious faces before the waiter’s smile vanished and he aimed his energy pistol at Viktor’s chest. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Perhaps she stood me up.”

  “I’m not playing games with you, Officer.” The waiter aimed at the nearest patron, a middle-aged man seated at the edge of a crowded booth. “Where is she?”

  “Under the table!” The fur-clad patron shouted, pointing. “Don’t shoot anybody, my god!”

  Viktor’s heart leapt into his mouth, but before he could react the waiter and Pearls converged on Rin and Alvarez’s table. They unceremoniously flipped it over, flinging steak and greens to the floor. Glass shattered, and the wine spilled out of both bottle and goblets, staining the floor and fallen tablecloth blood red. A few flakes of edible gold stuck in the liquid.

  The area under the table was empty.

  The waiter whirled on Viktor. “Where did she go?”

  “I do not know.”

  “I won’t ask you again!” He pressed the barrel of the e-gun against Viktor’s chest.

  Viktor didn’t blink, but slowly raised his hands. “Your shoe is untied.”

  Confusion crossed the waiter’s face. In that instant, Viktor moved.

  He pivoted to one side, simultaneously bringing his raised hands in to grasp the gun and twist the waiter’s wrist. Bones snapped and the waiter screamed, and then the gun came away from his broken fingers in Viktor’s hand. Before anyone else had moved, Viktor stepped back and aimed the gun at the waiter and Pearls.

  “Disarm yourselves. Now. You are under arrest.”

  Another patron seated in a booth opposite Rin’s table stood, revealing an energy gun from beneath his jacket. Another metallic device hung from his belt, though Viktor couldn’t make out what it was in the mood lighting. The man had a magnificent mustache that trembled as he shouted, “You disarm yourself! Nobody’s getting arrested!”

  So the Uprising had Mustache and Pearls posing as patrons. Adding in the waiter and estimating two people to guard the doors, there were at least five individuals involved in this attack. Could there still be more?

  Viktor did not drop his gun, as he had an clean angle of attack on both the waiter and Pearls. Alvarez had dived out of his chair for the protection of the rows of booths. Mustache kept his e-gun squarely on Viktor, his stance firm.

  “We are in a standoff,” said Viktor, “but I have the advantage.”

  “How d’ya figure that?” said Mustache.

  “More officers are descending on this building every second. Your backup cannot reach us.”

  Mustache didn’t reply and Pearls simply curled her lip, but between hisses of pain the waiter chuckled. “Our backup has been here all along.”

  Behind Viktor, the kitchen door banged against the wood paneled walls. He spun to try to keep the entire restaurant in view while also watching the newcomer, but the downside of his large size was a reduction in agility. By the time he turned, a woman in kitchen garb stood in the doorway, a projectile gun in hand. They all stared at each other for a moment before she said, “Hi. How were the appetizers, asshole?”

  Two weapons against his one, from opposite directions. Viktor could not win this alone.

  Of course he wasn’t alone, but if Areva didn’t make her appearance soon, this might go very badly. Where could she be?

  He began lowering his gun. “A poor choice of catchphrase,” he told the Uprising cook. “You should have said, ‘Hot bullets, compliments of the chef.’”

  “The bullets are for dessert.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Viktor had just crouched to set down his gun when the first shot rang out.

  A loud zap crackled the air, and a blue-white ball of energy the size of a marble struck Mustache in the chest. He gasped and flopped back in his booth, spasms contorting his limbs.

  Viktor snapped his gun up and fired on the chef. Another zap, another blue blast, and she too went down.

  That left only the waiter and Pearls, and whoever was guarding the doors. Viktor felled the waiter, and another shot from somewhere in the general direction of the kitchen took down Pearls. That left only the door guards to—

  Pain exploded in Viktor’s left arm as the crack of a projectile gun and the acrid stench of powder filled the air. Fire lanced through his biceps, down into his forearm and up into his shoulder. He groaned and clutched at the wound. His hand came away sticky and red.

  He knew in that instant that he’d been shot, and that a second bullet would no doubt follow. This one would probably have better aim.

  Before he could duck, or turn, or do anything else to try to save his life, a buzzing sound filled his ears. This wasn’t the crackle of an e-gun. It was more like the hum of the Adkinsium reactors that powered UELE spaceships.

  Something heavy hit the floor behind him, and someone let out a low moan.

  He pivoted to see a plain-clothed man splayed on the floor, a p-gun fallen by his side. He wasn’t twitching like the others who had been stunned, though. Instead he pressed his hand against a burn in his shoulder that was far too small to have been made by an e-gun.

  On the other side of the restaurant, near the booths, Ed Alvarez stood wide-eyed, trembling hands clutching the device that had been attached to Mustache’s belt.

  Viktor surveyed the room. All opponents were down, and the remaining patrons were all cowering in their seats. Not likely that any Uprising agents remained among them. “Mr. Alvarez,” said Viktor through gritted teeth, “please put the ... object on the floor.”

  Alvarez blinked and opened his mouth, then complied. “S-sorry,” he said as he stood back up. “T-the guy was shooting, and I j-just ... am I under arrest?”

  “No.”

  Another zap rang out from the back area of the kitchen, and then Areva appeared at the swinging doors. “Exits are clear,” she said. “Once we radio, backup can come—Viktor, you’re hurt!”

  She was by his side at once, inspecting the wound. “Just a graze,” she said. “You’ll be okay. But your suit is ruined.”

  “Damn.” Viktor stripped off his jacket and then tore off one his shirtsleeves and tied it around the wound.

  Areva activated her pocket comp and relayed to the officers outside that the situation had been contained. In seconds the entire restaurant flooded with cops. The uninvolved patrons were escorted outside, Rin was rushed to the hospital, the Uprising agents arrested and removed, and Viktor’s arm treated by medics. He and Areva remained on scene, as did Ed Alvarez, for questioning.

  Viktor found the shaking senior vice-president seated on a booth. “Thank you,” Viktor said.

>   “Oh, um, you’re welcome,” said Alvarez.

  “What was that device?”

  “It’s a thermal beam. Our facilities use them to separate contaminants out of the ores we mine. On low settings it’s pretty harmless, but I ... I turned it up all the way, and ... well ...”

  “Do not worry,” said Viktor. “He will live. You only hit his shoulder.”

  “That’s good. I guess we were lucky that guy had it on him.”

  It was curious. Why did the Uprising bring such a device into this heist? Viktor thought through the details of the operation. A chef, a waiter, two guards, and two fake patrons, one armed with a mining tool, all to pull off a simple poisoning against a hyper-paranoid diner. He surveyed the destruction around what had been Rin’s table. The cloth was fully soaked with wine, and the steak had long since stopped steaming. The edible gold flakes had sunk into the wine puddle.

  A hunch flitted through Viktor’s mind.

  He retrieved Rin’s fallen pocket comp, complete with its mass spectrometer, and used a fork to fish one of the gold flakes out. He placed it on the spectrometer and waited for the analysis.

  90 percent gold.

  10 percent highly refined arsenic.

  “I have solved it,” he said.

  Areva peered over his arm at the screen. “Ooh,” she said.

  “Yes. The Uprising used their false chef to switch the edible gold for these flakes,” Viktor said, gesturing to the fallen pieces. “Then a false waiter brought the poisoned wine to Rin. Then the patrons used bursts from the thermal beam to melt the arsenic into the drink after Rin had already tested it. That is why Rin said the texture was wrong.”

  Alvarez gaped at them. “They used the beam? That’s incredibly dangerous. If they’d hit his skin, or the tablecloth ...”

  “Caution has never been one of the Uprising’s priorities.”

  “Why go to so much trouble?”

  “They enjoy spectacle. It keeps them in the public eye and ensures their cause continues to receive attention.”

  Areva huffed. “They got their wish tonight, then.”

  “At least they did not get their money.”

  “True.”

  They left Alvarez to speak with a department counselor and surveyed the ransacked room.

  “Too bad,” said Areva. “I was looking forward to this dinner.”

  “As was I.”

  She slipped a hand into his. “It’s not too late. Once we’re cleared by the department, want to get ice cream?”

  “Whatever you like.”

  “It’ll at least be cheaper than this place.”

  “The money was not going to be a problem.”

  Areva glanced up at him. “Do I need to ask for a raise, or are you running some sort of side business outside the corps?”

  Viktor laughed. “Neither. Remember the island Jarry Rin was building?”

  “Yes.”

  “I invested in his competitors. They had the foresight to buy land that was not in a flood zone. Their first dividends were paid last month. Not a lot, but enough for one night of fine dining.”

  Areva laughed. “Next time I’ll order filet.”

  “Will we need to go shooting to set the mood again?”

  “Of course. Or are you scared I’ll beat you again?”

  “After tonight, I should be.” He paused, then said seriously, “Thank you for saving my life.”

  She shrugged. “It’s what we do. In fact, tonight was one big string of what we do.”

  “It was. Perhaps the evening was not ruined after all.”

  She reached up and used his tie to pull him down into a kiss. “No,” she murmured. “In fact, I think it was absolutely perfect.”

  * * *

  Book Five

  Wet Ducks

  The Endurance was the best ship in the United Earth Law Enforcement fleet.

  Matthias Habassa had never served on any other ships, but he was pretty sure it was true.

  For example, what other ship was currently receiving a heavily encrypted message from the Phobos colony on a classified priority channel, with a subject line reading: “HELP”?

  None of them. That was for sure.

  “Progress, Habassa?”

  Matthias glanced over his shoulder at his commanding officer. Captain Thomas Withers leaned forward in his chair, chin resting on steepled fingers, blue uniform creases sharp enough to cut paper. “Working on it, Cap,” Matthias said with a grin. “Decryption protocols only go so fast.”

  “What, you haven’t improved their efficiency?”

  “Not since the extra fifty percent I wrangled from them last year.” Matthias turned back to the console at the front of the bridge, which currently flashed a dizzying array of numbers and symbols. Through the viewport just above the station, the heavy blue depths of Neptune swirled against a backdrop of stars.

  It really was a pretty planet. Boring, perhaps, but the lack of activity in this part of the system gave more time for science projects. Like boosting the efficiency of the standard decryption software. Matthias wasn’t bothered by the captain’s jibe about his progress. As his mom used to say, be a duck. Quack, quack.

  He entered a new algorithm and watched the first letter of the message resolve on the screen:

  I.

  A deep voice rumbled behind him. “The Dispatch officers think they are jokers.”

  “Really, Ivanokoff?” asked Captain Withers. The command seat creaked as the captain leaned back. “You think the message is a prank? Even they wouldn’t stoop that low. More likely it’s some kid with a broadcaster just screwing around.”

  The tower of muscle that was the Endurance’s first officer growled in the back of his throat. “It is from Dispatch. They hate us, sir. This mockery is the exclamation point on the insult of our assignment to this part of space.”

  “Was that a poetic metaphor, Lieutenant?”

  “I do not do poetry.”

  “You’re the literature guy.”

  “Da. I read it. I do not write it.”

  “Maybe you should give writing a try. Areva might like it.”

  “Areva is a stoic, like myself.”

  “You can’t write stoic poetry?”

  “Captain, your jokes do not change my original point. Dispatch is again mocking our crew. The message will contain a rude word and nothing more.”

  Matthias extracted another few letters from the encryption: Ivano.

  “Actually,” he said, swiveling his stool to face the center of the bridge, “I think it’s addressed to you, Viktor.”

  That got the huge man’s attention. Viktor Ivanokoff crossed to the console and leaned over the data-strewn screen. Even so bent, he would dwarf Matthias at full height. “What is the rest?” Ivanokoff asked.

  “Working on it.” Matthias watched as the computer put together the remainder of Ivanokoff’s name, and then the letters thi. It seemed each letter of the message had been encrypted using a different cypher, and the computer was beginning to pick up a pattern from one to the next. “The rest should go a little faster,” he said.

  Ivanokoff grunted. “It is still likely a prank.”

  Matthias shrugged. “I dunno. I think we were put out here for a reason.”

  The captain laughed, making his chair creak again. “Sure we were, Habassa. To keep us out of the way.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Matthias. “I mean a greater purpose. Look how things have turned out. Endurance’s routine gave me time to invent a lot of cool stuff. It’s the reason we were able to leave the solar system and find all those planets. We weren’t out of the way. We were in the middle of everything.”

  A small smile crossed the captain’s face. “That we were. Short as it was, we had a good run.”

  Another grunt from Ivanokoff. “Until they found an excuse to return us to our cage.”

  “We killed a hundred aliens, Lieutenant,” said the captain.

  “They were already dead.”


  “Still counted, to Dispatch.”

  Matthias swung back and forth on his stool. “At least we tried to help. That’s what matters.”

  Neither command officer replied.

  More letters.

  Ivanokoff, this is O ...

  Ivanokoff’s hands formed fists, his knuckles white as they pressed on the metal bank of computers. “It is O’Dell, from Oversight and Investigations. He is mocking me.”

  But the next letter was a K.

  A sudden weight descended on the bridge. The banter and speculation fell silent.

  O.

  Ivanokoff’s knuckles popped. Even Matthias felt his usual chipperness fade. If the name was what they all suspected, this was a lot more trouble than a prank from Dispatch. Traitors never got in touch with those they betrayed unless something was very wrong.

  R.

  O.

  Ivanokoff swore. “Okoro.”

  Captain Withers came to stand over Matthias. “No.”

  “Looks that way,” said Matthias.

  “Delete the message,” said Ivanokoff. “We do not need more of his lies.”

  But the computer was decrypting faster now, and more words appeared amidst the shifting, streaming code:

  I’m sorry for what I did.

  Matthias pointed at the screen. “That’s a good sign.”

  Captain Withers and Ivanokoff both scoffed.

  The blue-black symbols continued to resolve on the screen. P25NORKZL ...

  “The decryption isn’t working,” said the captain.

  Matthias slid his stool to the adjacent console and activated its screen. “I think it is, Cap. That looks like an unaffiliated lightcom frequency.” His hands flew over the controls. “Yup, there’s a video message embedded in the signal. Playing it filtered through that frequency now.”