28. Travel Interlude

28 – Travel Interlude

The train was quiet once it got moving; with the magnetic rails engaged, it produced no clatter or vibration, only the subdued hum of its fusion power-plant and the rush of displaced air outside the insulated car. Despite a good night’s sleep, Hector might have dozed as they pulled away from the city and its neon lights, but then the sunrise became noticeable and he looked with wonder out at the Martian landscape.

As the last of the rectangular, industrial buildings fell away, left behind by the train’s speedy passage, the fat orange orb of the sun crept up, almost like the planet was reluctant to wake. Pale gold light spilled across the horizon, washing over rust-red plains softened by centuries of terraforming efforts: windbreak forests and engineered grasslands. Long shadows stretched from low hills and distant stony escarpments, and the sky deepened from violet to a muted blue as the sun climbed.

“First time?” the stranger across from him asked.

Hector scowled, fearing his quiet ride was at risk. Rather than encourage conversation with a detailed answer, he shook his head. “Just the first in a while.”

“Young to have much experience with these things, aren’t you?”

Hector’s frown deepened as he turned his pale blue eyes fully toward the older man. “Am I?”

The suit cleared his throat and looked down, perhaps made uncomfortable by the intensity of Hector’s gaze. He lifted his tablet and resumed whatever busy-work he’d prepared for the train ride. Hector looked back out the window, part of him irritated with himself for being such a hard-ass, and part of him satisfied. The satisfied part was louder.

//I have a preliminary report on the massacre of the Conti family and some ideas for avenues of investigation.//

Evie’s sudden pronouncement caught Hector off-guard; his mind had begun to drift toward memories of other desolate landscapes seen through the windows of other vehicles. He focused on the shimmer of a distant retention pond, bracing himself as he mentally indicated he was ready to listen.

//As you know, the event took place 197 years ago and has been historically designated The Night of the Gray Phage. The name comes from the primary vehicle of the massacre: a genetically engineered virus designed to target the bacterial and nanite biomes of those infected. It stripped victims of their automated repair systems and corrupted their neurodecks—if they had one—before a second-wave catalyst activated a lethal poison.

The two agents were airborne, odorless, and invisible, and by the time the first attendees collapsed, it was already too late for effective intervention. More than two thousand victims were claimed by the phage—Conti family members, auxiliary personnel, event staff, and local residents attending the festivities.//

“Dammit,” Hector growled softly. The man across from him looked up, but Hector kept his gaze focused out the window. And me? I supposedly killed Drake and Esme and the others? Alistair Ventress-Dane supposedly took me down?

//That’s what the records I have access to report.//

So the estate was destroyed?

//No, the estate still stands, owned by the Ventress family.//

You see the problem with that, right?

Evie was silent for a moment before she replied:

//You were a Praetorian-class aura wielder. Alistair couldn’t have killed you easily or without a battle, even though he, too, was rated as Praetorian-class. The battle would have been titanic.//

Exactly. What about the rest of my team?

//Lucien, Maribel, and Stefan succumbed to the phage. I couldn’t find any record of Aiko.//

And the Contis? They were all confirmed dead? No neurodecks?

//That’s the worst part, Hector.// Evie’s genuine remorse was enough to make Hector hold his breath. //Drake, Mara, Esme, Fernando, Jasmine, and Nora were all found in the solar, killed by an Aura Blade, their neurodecks removed and shattered. It was a horrific scene.//

Hector squeezed the arms of his recliner until his knuckles popped.

I couldn’t have done that.

//I know.// After a few seconds, Evie continued speaking into his auditory implants. //Arndt Conti maintained his innocence up to the moment of his execution, though Imperial investigators found evidence of the phage’s development at his private estate on Ganymede. Correspondence between him and Drake showed a rift: Drake had maneuvered the family to much greater heights than the prior generation of Contis, and Arndt didn’t think he was getting his share of the glory—he’d bankrolled much of Drake’s early investments.//

So he decided to massacre the entire clan? It sounds insane.

//Again, I’m sorry, Hector. That’s where you come into the story. Arndt supposedly recruited you, designed a phage meant to kill Drake and his successors, but you—according to the historical record—were mad with rejection after Drake refused your request to marry into the family. You unleashed the phage on a wider scale than intended. The record contends that you opted to do it during a public event rather than at a time when only the family was home. The massacre of Drake and his immediate family was presented as evidence to support your execution by Sir Alistair.//

Hector’s white-knuckled rage fell away, replaced by something worse—a cold, simmering fury that went beyond any sort of physical outlet. He closed his eyes, sinking back into the recliner as his mind reeled. Images of the Conti family paraded through his thoughts. He’d loved those kids, and Drake and Mara had been good to him. Esme? Esme had been something more, but he’d never had any thoughts of marriage! Had he? Regardless—there was no way he’d kill any of them. Maybe Drake if he goaded me enough and challenged me to a duel. Never those kids. Never Mara.

//I agree. You were set up as a scapegoat—Arndt, too, if you want my assessment.//

As the roaring in his ears faded and the fury settled into background noise—a simmering cauldron ready to boil over at the slightest nudge—he prompted Evie: And where do I look for answers?

//There are several—//

She stopped short as a plump woman in a train-staff uniform approached the table and asked, “Breakfast, gentlemen?”

Hector’s table companion looked up and nodded. “Coffee and the settler’s omelet.”

The woman looked at Hector, smiling pleasantly, her green eyes peering from beneath orange-tinted bangs. “And you, sir?”

He wanted to tell her to leave—no, better yet, he wanted to ignore her. His anger wanted an outlet. He yearned to clench his fist and smash the table or the window. He wanted to feel the sharp pain as his knuckles split—a reminder that he was still alive, that he could still do something. But he couldn’t, could he? They were dead. Of course, vengeance was required, but were the fiends who’d killed the family he’d sworn to protect even alive to taste his wrath? His stomach rumbled, an embarrassing reminder of his frailty.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I’ll have the same.” He turned back to the scene outside the window, taking some solace in its desolation.

“Very good, and just a reminder, gentlemen: in about fifteen minutes we’ll pass outside the influence of the Heliopolis gravity generators. Be careful if you stand and move about.”

Hector ignored her, and Evie continued with their earlier conversation:

//As I was saying, there are several avenues to investigate. If we were to book passage to Ganymede, we could try to pick up Aiko’s trail. There might be local records of her travels or her fate. We can also look into the Ventress Trade Consortium; they benefited the most obviously from the Conti family’s destruction. However, their gain was mostly monetary. The Lautrec family gained the most politically. The Conti family had climbed the ranks in terms of the other Royal House’s respect. There were whispers of eventual succession challenges. The demise of the Contis silenced those seditious tongues. Then, of course, there’s Alistair Ventress-Dane…//

And Arndt’s kids?

//Both dead, though they did have heirs. It’s possible that there may be some verbal or even written accounts of the events—held secret by their families. Their estates are still in old Europe. Sir Alistair is also on Earth, so you could explore more than one avenue of investigation by going there.//

So, the bastard is still alive, hmm? Earth or Ganymede? I’m not ready to fish around the Lautrecs yet.

//With due respect, Hector, you’re not ready to travel off-world yet. It’s not cheap, and you don’t know what you’ll be walking into. Each destination holds many risks and challenges. Sir Alistair has not grown soft with age.//

Hector didn’t respond. He didn’t need to; Evie could read his surface thoughts. He was basically in agreement with her. The Contis had been dead for two-hundred years. There was no sense in rushing into things and getting caught or killed before he was ready. As he sat there, staring out at the mostly red landscape, he thought about Aiko and her strange absence from the official record. Could she have betrayed him? He couldn’t imagine it—not after all they’d been through. She’d been close to the Conti children, too.