Dark Star (7 page)

Dalton stashed his gear in the alcove and drew out a slim stylus he’d had made months before he even knew who Rosie Black was. It was a replica of his father’s security coded device. The best he could get made. The tapered black tube gleamed in the light. He’d used it four times already without result, but it had become habit whenever his dad was away to check things. He shoved it in his pocket. He would probably find nothing again, but it was worth a try.

He left his rooms and walked on bare feet up the stairs to his parents’ floor.

It was after one in the morning and all was quiet. To his right was the entrance to his mother’s suite and Pilar’s room. To his left his father’s room and straight ahead his office.

He pulled out the stylus and held it to the lock. A soft whirr and the door slid back. Dalton reached around the inside and shoved the tip of the stylus into the security plate. There was the softest of beeps and a light that had been blinking in the centre of the ceiling went out.

Jebediah’s office was dominated by a huge solid wood desk. Old-fashioned, antique and with the top covered in a sheet of bio interface holo. It represented his father perfectly: handsome, rich with a sheen of high tech.

Behind the desk was a floor to ceiling pane of curved plasglass with views of the city. One wall of the office was covered in bookshelves filled with priceless paper books. They had stopped being produced in the early twenty- second century, and the other was a floor-to-ceiling bank of holos and interface coms.

Dalton closed the door and wondered where to start. He didn’t bother with the desk. The bio interface was linked to his dad’s DNA and impenetrable. He’d tried numerous times already. He drummed his fingers on his leg. Maybe the wall of holos again? But he’d gone through them last time and found only Curtis and Co files and documents. He stood undecided in the middle of the room. Wait, what about the books? Too precious to be touched, let alone read, they were purely for display.

He approached the shelves. A protective energy shield encased them, and it took him nearly ten frustrating minutes to figure out how to disable it. Finally, he found the coded switch on the floor underneath a false board. He read slowly across the spines.

Mysteries, crime, books about history, geography, novels hundreds of years old. He stopped. It had to be that one, only his father would align himself with the story of a man who bested the gods. He gently slipped the copy of
The Odyssey
off the shelf. It had a hard cover and, when he opened it, the pages were soft and fine as old leaves. He flicked through page after page. Nothing but words. He began to put it back, when he noticed something between the spine and pages catching the light, a tiny glimmer. He held it up to his eye. Something was there. Dalton eased it out. It was a thin silver storage chit, the length of his forefinger and almost as thin as plaspaper. Excitement made his heart race. How to read it?

He went to the desk, feeling along the narrow shelf underneath the desktop that held general office supplies. There were three ordinary readers there for various sized devices, no security coding on them. Dalton found one that fit and inserted the chit. The blue screen came to life and a line of numbers scrolled across. Code. Dalton swore, then froze as he heard sounds coming from downstairs. A deep voice. Pilar’s answering tone. His father was home.

He slipped the chit and reader into his pocket, then shoved the book on the shelf and switched the shield back on, checking the room in case he’d left any trace. Nothing he could see.

Chest tight with fear, he activated the door, ready to make up some excuse. All he saw though was Pilar’s back at the bottom of the stairs. She was facing towards the kitchen where his father must have gone. Dalton reactivated the security and locked the door again. When he turned back Pilar was looking straight up the stairs at him. They regarded each other, then with a quick glance in his father’s direction Pilar headed for the kitchen saying, “Let me make you something to eat, Mr Curtis.”

Dalton jogged downstairs and headed straight to his room. That had been too close. He wondered what the hell his dad was doing back so early. He was supposed to be in the American Republic for another day at least. Had he seen the Rogue Wave he’d sent? He hadn’t counted on his dad being back in the city for it – but maybe that was a good thing. He could observe his reactions firsthand. But first he had to crack this code and get the chit back into the office. Dalton frowned at the numbers. It seemed simple enough, and he’d always been good at this sort of thing.

He sat down on the floor and began to work out the system. It was surprisingly easy. Less than twenty minutes later he had it. It was simple, far too simple. Either his father hadn’t had time to do more, or he hadn’t been concerned about it being found. Dalton read through the short note his father must have written. It was addressed only to S. Could that be Sulawayo? Possibly, or a thousand other people.

Keep applying pressure to gain information. We need those gate plans, the list and any other information she has, it’s paramount to our cause, as is the boy. Ensure she is protected from attempts to access the implant. Awaiting your report
.

The gate plans must be the Equinox Gate, the instructions for building the wormhole gate to the outer planets that Rosie had in her implant. She had the only copy since they’d destroyed the base where Helios had been constructing it a few months ago. And the boy was probably Pip. It all read like his dad was part of the rebellion, even possibly leading it. Or did it? Was he making assumptions?

Dalton ran his finger over the reader. He wanted to believe, but years of living with his father made it hard. Jebediah Curtis was not a man to do anything for altruistic reasons. Not that he’d seen anyway.

He put down the reader and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping much since Rosie left and didn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling any good. His mind was fuzzy, confused.
Get it together, Dalton. She’s relying on you
. He took in a long breath and checked the time. Nearly two o’clock.

The AI had probably informed his father he was home – what time he’d come in and that his room lights were still on. Better to go out to see him than have him knocking on his door. He stashed the reader and chit in his hiding spot and went out to the kitchen.

His father was sitting at the long glossy table, a plate of steamed vegetables in front of him. He was reading something on one of his company holos. He regarded Dalton with a faintly disappointed expression. “You’ve been out late again.”

Hello to you too, Dalton thought, but he only said, “I was catching up with some of the Hover Hockey boys.”

“I thought you hadn’t been playing because of your leg.”

“I haven’t, but they’re still my friends.” Dalton slouched down in a chair at the other end of the table. “There’s no law against seeing your friends, is there?”

Jebediah said nothing. He was a well-built man, not quite as tall as Dalton, but he had an air about him that made him seem the tallest, most dominant man in the room. His hair was dark, cut short and styled well, but streaked through with grey at the temples. Unlike most Centrals, he had no patience for cosmetic enhancement. He let his age show. A deep furrow was etched between his eyebrows and fine lines radiated from his eyes and across his forehead. It only made him appear distinguished, formidable. Charismatic, people called him. Dalton called him other things. Tyrant. Cold. Impossible to please.

“That bike accident has put you a long way behind, son,” his dad said. “Don’t fall into the party scene and throw all your previous hard work away.”

“I’m not in the party scene; it was a few drinks with friends.”

“And what does your coach think about that?”

“He’ll be fine.” The coach would accept whatever excuse he gave. He was a Curtis and it was family money that kept the team afloat. Which was lucky because he hadn’t seen his hockey team mates for weeks, and if his father dug too deep, he might find out there hadn’t been a bike accident either. He’d injured his leg when he was shot in Gondwana Nation helping Rosie destroy the base. But if his dad really was with Sulawayo’s rebellion, or the leader of it, he’d know he’d been up there. He would know everything. So why hide it? What was his agenda? An ache built on confusion and weariness stung the back of his eyeballs, and Dalton went to the cool unit for a drink. “So where’s Pilar?” he asked.

“Gone to bed. It is late, son. And your mother?”

“Sleeping.” Dalton shut the cool unit and leaned against it, playing with a plascan of juice.

His dad studied Dalton over the rim of his wine glass. “Did you see her when you came in? Is she clean?”

“You had one of your men search her at the door, don’t you know?”

But his father wasn’t rising to the bait. “It’s for her own good. I have to protect her from herself.”

“I suppose you know best.”

His dad put down his glass then rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. “Everything I do, everything, is for the good of this family, for the good of everyone. I know you don’t always like what our company does, but sometimes we have to make hard choices, son. We are building a better world and that is not an easy task.”

Dalton pressed his lips together. He wanted to ask his father if he thought he’d been doing the right thing for his other son when he’d left Chris out in the MalX-infested ruins of the old city, but he kept silent.

Jebediah exhaled and said softly, “It seems there are some who are out to destroy us though.”

A beat started at the base of Dalton’s throat. “I thought there always was.”

“This is different. That Rogue Waver put out a broadcast, not that long ago actually, claiming I am involved with Helios. You didn’t see it?”

“I’ve been off Grid.”

“And probably best you stay off for the time being.” Jebediah was watching him closely. “Despite the Waver’s complete lack of evidence this will cause problems. The Senate and UEC will not be able to let it go. I’ve already been fielding panicked queries from our holdings all over the planet.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever I need to. I won’t have my business and your future condemned by those who know not what they do. However they choose to justify their actions.”

Dalton nodded. The way his dad was looking at him was unnerving. “I guess you can only go with the truth,” he said.

“Yes, the truth.”

There was silence and Dalton forced himself to stay still and not fidget.

“Well, I’ve got the Academy in the morning.” Dalton took a step towards the door.

“That bike you crashed, was it the one I bought you for your last birthday?” his father said.

Why was he asking that? “Ah, yeah, but it’s totalled.” It was now, anyway. Pip had helped him smash it then Riley’s contact, Sun, had arranged for some false Senate reports, even some faked footage on a road near the Ocean estates.

“Pity. Call the company tomorrow, choose another one. Unless you’d prefer a car. I can arrange a permit.”

“No, a bike’s better.”

“Good.” His dad went back to eating.

“I’m going to bed,” Dalton said.

“Son …”

Dalton stopped, one hand on the doorframe.

“You don’t believe that Rogue Waver, do you?”

“Why would I?”

There was an odd expression on his father’s face, one Dalton would almost call regret, if he didn’t know better. “We don’t know each other well enough any more, do we, son? Perhaps you have doubts. I don’t know.” He frowned slightly. “I’m sorry for that if you do.”

Sorry? Dalton was thrown, his mind blank. He had never heard his father apologise. Ever.

“It’s all right.” Jebediah waved a hand. “Go to bed. We will talk more again.”

“Okay,” Dalton managed to force out, but his dad had already turned his attention back to his plate.

Dalton left the kitchen, feeling like he was balancing over a crater on one leg. Questions, confusion, uncertainty played in his mind, clouding his reasoning. He walked through the great room, barely seeing it, but passing the lift he stopped, and went back.

A narrow stand and table for coats and assorted bits and pieces stood to the left of the lift and on it was something he’d not seen earlier. A silver holo com. It hadn’t been there before his father came in.

Dalton checked briefly over his shoulder, but he could still hear the clink of cutlery against his dad’s plate. He picked it up.

It was surprisingly old and definitely made of real silver. Rare. Etched above the controls was the Curtis and Co emblem of two ornate intertwined Cs. The lock was a simple code pad. This was clearly his father’s personal holo. Dalton had glimpsed it before and never thought much of it, but now with Jebediah’s odd questions it seemed too good an opportunity to waste.

He checked the kitchen again then entered his father’s birthdate. Nothing. He tried his mother’s, his own, his father’s antique car registration number, but nothing. What could it be? The variables were too great. It could be a random string of numbers, but something told him it must be special to his father. Something unique. Dalton’s breath caught. Could it be? He entered the numbers of his brother’s birthdate, but nothing happened. He ground his teeth and was about to put it down when an idea struck him. He tried the date of Chris’s death. The holo controls lit up.

Heart thudding, Dalton activated the index. None of it was coded.

There was a title, DS. He clicked on it and a set of blueprints sprang up in three-dimensional holo. There was Earth and a dozen, no more, high-tech outer atmosphere satellites arranged in orbit above every continent on the planet. Some were marked by a set of numbers, others by letters with no explanation of what they meant. Was this a Curtis and Co project? He’d heard of something big the company had been working on to do with water and the distribution of it from Titan – was this it? But it seemed odd if it was. He rotated the images, spinning the three-dimensional Earth around. One of the satellites was much bigger than the others, five times the size. He accessed its attributes. It wasn’t a satellite but a station. It appeared anchored to orbit at the edge of space above Newperth nearer the pole. There was no name on it, but he could clearly see a docking hatch. It could be the command station for the satellites, but what was it all for?