Chapter Seven
The brain chemistry changes triggered by the ceremony and rituals of communal belief systems are so strong, they can actually almost shut down an otherwise-active portion of the brain. This in turn leads to varying levels of emotional impact and even visual and auditory delusion.—from The Handbook of Joshua, Chapter 6, Verse 8.
We had one other obvious potential source for information, Harrison told me before we left NTC space.
“Nobody would benefit more from this thing than the Jofari. You gotta figure anyone trying to sell the drive will approach them.”
Jofari weren’t fond of meeting with Earthers. If you’d seen what we did to their home world, which was being strip-mined out of existence at near-slave wages, you’d understand.
Still, the guild sheriff of the nearest Jofari ship – just inside K’Laar space, where any offense on our part could mean arrest – was curious enough to give us a few minutes.
It had taken us two separate jumps through Short Space to get close enough to make a day trip of it, but I wasn’t complaining; if Cardale came up with the 100,000 creds, a whole lot of even bigger problems would be behind us.
To an Earther, Jofari made ideal enemies. With their near pitch-black, leathery skin, superfluous wing-folds and pointed ears, they could’ve walked right out of an old fairytale… or nightmare.
Their reputation within their own system, however, was for being centrist conciliators, decent people who were sometimes rashly naïve. To Earthers, they were Satan incarnate; they’d been brainwashed by Big Six (well, Big Five at the time) news holos into believing the Jofaris’ sole purpose in life was to eat humans.
In fact, they’d only mastered intergalactic travel due to the generosity of more advanced, outgoing cultures in their own star system.
Worrying about Earth’s capacity for violence, they’d ventured into Sol System ostensibly to study us.
On encountering a heavily armed exploratory vessel from the NTC, out analyzing the results of terraforming at G’Farg Settlement, the panicked Jofari had opened fire, touching off 20 years of brutal, brutal payback from Earth.
And as we stood across the sheriff’s desk, I couldn’t help but run the history through my head.
He finished looking at our IDs and tossed them back to us. “You got balls, Earther, leaving me an oblique message saying it’s a matter of life-and-death for my people. You want to explain.”
And so I did. He listened with wary disengagement. “Sounds dubious,” he said.
“That’s what people keep telling me.”
“This …this topic is somewhat offensive to us, Earther,” he said. “After all, we accept the terms of the armistice with pride. We began the war, we ended it on acceptable terms. It is a great honor – a great honor – for our young men to lead fleets across the galaxy.”
I wasn’t sure I could believe what I was hearing.
“Are you quite sure you understand the ramifications of what I’m telling you, sir? Your people wouldn’t be breaking their bargain. They simple wouldn’t have to be enslaved to machines anymore.”
That irritated him and he hissed involuntarily though lines of sharp white teeth.
“Again, you use that term “enslaved.” And again I must point out that this is a matter of honor for us. Additionally, you bring risk to us with this matter.”
“Excuse me?” This guy had some nerve.
“Yes, you draw attention to us in connection with this matter. While you yourself may be searching for this “drive”, it’s entirely possible the person you’re chasing is responsible for the string of deaths you’ve been investigating. Now you have given them a reason to visit here. Though our culture requires that we offer hospitality, I would ask that you leave, and take your problems with you.”
“That’s it? We’re talking about your own race…”
He snorted at that.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“What?”
“You’re morally judging us, when anyone still living on your home planet at age 40 is unceremoniously incinerated by the Hui-Matsumori Corp? That is what happens, isn’t it, Process Server? They hook up one last time to that infernal machine Earthers love so much, that MultiNet, and they never wake up, knocked cold like an Earth beef cow in the days before the wonder of synthetic food. I wonder how long that last session is for them, Smith. I wonder if it varies, based on bureaucratic delay.”
I don’t know why I tried to defend it. Perhaps it was because it was my team, even if it revolted me.
Perhaps it was just me doing what old Joshua Cross told people to fear, thinking with the group.
But I said, “People have a choice. They can leave if they want, get a job off planet. Live in the Freeverse until their time gets near. They can…’
He shook his head. “Come on, Process Server. You’re not that naïve.”
I stopped then. Was this about culture? Or was his comparison more about commerce, for both parties? “So you see a moral equivalency?”
Again, he shook his head. “I see a stubborn man. And again, I would ask that you leave, before your problems become my problems.”
I noticed that last time, he said “my”, not “our.” Again, when it came down to it, business was business.
Back on the ship, as we slowly pulled out of dock and into space, I was in a foul mood, and Jayde knew better than to ask why when I was that upset.
But as we sat there in the glow of the cockpit, the darkness of space engulfing us the further we got from the station, she eventually had to break the silence.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hit him,” she said.
“For what? Telling me the truth? Being a prick about it?”
She didn’t say anything, and the silence felt awkward, thanks to my injection of angry tension. It hurt, snapping at her. Stupid. I said, “Sorry. Not your fault, I know. He did have a point though, in a sort of perverted way: anyone who knows about the drive is a threat to whoever actually had it, and therefore a target.”
She had a sour look. “No excuse for his attitude, though.”
“Nope.”
Jayde took on a thoughtful look for a moment. “Hey boss…”
“Yeah?”
“Barrowman’s on the far side of the system, right? And it’s notoriously xenophobic. So why would the K’Laar Trade Consortium’s frontman be hanging out there drinking coffee?”
I smiled. “You know who the biggest employer on Barrowman is?”
Jayde started plotting out jump points. “Vance Vega again. Can’t be a coincidence. Starting to look more likely by the second who has that drive.”
I said, “That means the ambassador lied to us.”
“Uh huh.”
“I guess we better have another chat with him.”
“Uh huh. One problem boss: we don’t know where he is.”
“I guess I better call my stepfather again.”
She squinted at me. “Is that wise, boss? You’re going to owe him a lot of favors by the time this is done.”
I shrugged. “Mowing his backyard beats the hell out of the 15,000 credits we now need to come up with – or did you forget that little loan from our friend, the Prognosticator?”