Zero Zero Zero Page 7

  “We couldn’t miss the blast. We didn’t find any other survivors from your ship so you were lucky.”

  “I was space walking away from the ship when the explosion happened. No one else could have escaped.”

  “Have you got any idea what caused it?”

  “No. Are you near to Absolem?”

  “We’re going there after a few cargo deliveries.”

  “That’s fine.” Sebastian chuckled to himself as the medic drifted away. “But, Philippe LaGrain, you’ll regret the day you were born.”

  THE Kougyo arrived at Absolem six days after his rescue. Eager to be on his way, Sebastian hobbled from his quarters to the Infirmary.

  “Thanks for your help, Doc,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t walk around too much until your leg heals,” the medic said. He waved his report at Sebastian. “And make sure you’re available when I give my report to Absolem’s authorities.”

  “I’ll deliver it myself, if you want.”

  The medic smiled and passed Sebastian the report. With a pat on the medic’s shoulder, Sebastian hobbled away. He hoped the man wouldn’t be concerned when nobody requested more details later.

  Sebastian headed to the hotel that he and Philippe had used on his last night in Absolem. It seemed a good place to begin his search. So, forcing himself to be calm, he slipped into the building and approached the receptionist.

  “I’m here to see Philippe LaGrain,” he said.

  “We have no person of that name at this hotel, sir,” the receptionist said in a bored voice.

  “That’s a pity. When did he leave?”

  The receptionist didn’t bother to search through past bookings.

  “We have never had anybody of that name staying here, sir.”

  “He’s Professor Philippe LaGrain, the famous physicist or geologist. . . .” Sebastian trailed off and sighed. “He’s about my height with a receding hairline, a long face and blue eyes.”

  The receptionist shrugged. “I’ve never seen him, sir.”

  Help this man, Sebastian pushed.

  The receptionist blinked a few times and then tapped on his console.

  “A man matching his description is in room two-seventeen and Thomas McTavish is the name you can’t remember, but he’s not in at the moment, sir.”

  Sebastian favored him with a wide grin. “Thank you, I’ll wait. There’s no need to leave a message.”

  When the receptionist bared his teeth, Sebastian hobbled to the foyer, selected a news journal and hid behind the paper. While he waited he tapped his foot on a coffee table. He had been prepared to spend years searching for his quarry, but after only three hours Philippe returned to receive his payback.

  As his quarry crossed the foyer, Sebastian clutched his news journal so hard he ripped the paper in half. Then he threw it to the floor and waited until Philippe slipped into the elevator before he stood up and followed him.

  Sebastian knocked on the door to room two-seventeen, resisting his desire to hammer until the door crumbled before him. His heart was beating loudly, his palms were sticky and his breathing was shallow and quick.

  As Philippe drew the lock back, Sebastian flexed his shoulders, readying himself. The door opened a crack, but before Philippe could recognize him, he thrust out a foot and jammed it into the gap.

  He winced with pain as Philippe thrust the door against his tender foot. He grabbed the door and hurled it open, tumbling Philippe to the floor. In two strides, he closed on Philippe and straddled him, pinning his arms to the floor above his head with one hand. Behind him, the door swung closed.

  “Hello, Thomas, how are you today?” he said with his voice low.

  The conman floundered on the floor, his mouth dropping open in shock.

  “You’re alive, thank god. I was worried.”

  Sebastian nodded and then smashed him across the cheek with a flat hand.

  “I’m alive, all right.”

  Philippe flinched away from the blow. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. I left the pod to survey the asteroid, but when I’d finished, I couldn’t find the pod.”

  Sebastian hit Philippe again, harder this time. His hand stung with the blow.

  “Don’t insult my intelligence. You left me to die. At least apologize properly, before I kill you.”

  Sebastian pressed his knee into Philippe’s chest. He felt dirty from having touched this pathetic creature.

  “Kill me,” Philippe said, his eyes wide and bright. “I deserve to die. But, please believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  With a grunt of disgust, Sebastian released Philippe’s arms and grabbed his throat.

  “I’m going to kill you, but just don’t lie to me beforehand.”

  Philippe struggled, his arms flailing ineffectually.

  “You’d consumed a lot of booze, so I borrowed the spacehopper to get more samples while you slept. When I returned I panicked. You’d been involved with gangs and I thought you might kill me, so I left to fetch help.”

  Sebastian threw his hands away from Philippe’s throat.

  “Stop lying, just once. You drugged me and stole the secondary air supply, and I’m supposed to believe that you intended to return for me?”

  With his eyes watery, Philippe rocked his head on the floor.

  “In the end I got greedy. I didn’t feel good about myself, but I conveniently forgot about you.”

  Sebastian hit him, a flat-handed blow across the side of the head, but softer than before. Then he rocked back on his heels, retreating from this creature, and rubbed his forehead. He stood up and Philippe rolled over before staggering to his feet.

  “I do deserve to die.”

  Sebastian sneered and slapped a hand on his shoulder. He pulled his arm back to deliver a short-arm jab.

  Philippe cringed away. “Please, don’t! I made a mistake. I’ll give you anything you want. Just believe me.”

  Sebastian threw him to the floor and paced across the room, his tread heavy. He righted a fallen chair, flopped into it and massaged his forehead. He hadn’t needed to use his talent, but he already felt the first twinges of a headache.

  Sebastian tried to work out how many credits Philippe might owe him. He’d owned over seven hundred credits before foolishly involving himself with Philippe and that was enough for a few months’ living. However, they’d found the isotope.

  “I’m listening.”

  Philippe sat up and, after batting dust from his tunic, he lowered his head.

  “We succeeded. We found unbihexium. Before all these mistakes happened, we made a deal that you’d get thirty percent of the profits. We can keep to the deal.”

  Sebastian pushed to his feet and walked to the window. Outside, desultory buildings were pinned to the side of the craggy planetoid. Behind him, he heard Philippe get to his feet.

  “Go on,” Sebastian said.

  “I’m rich. No, we’re rich.”

  Rustling sounded and Sebastian turned around. Philippe’s hand was in his jacket pocket.

  “Don’t panic,” Philippe said. “It’s just our contract.”

  Philippe withdrew a sheet of paper and dangled it at arm’s length. Sebastian strode to him, snatched the contract from his hand and read the small-typed legal jargon.

  “What does this mean?”

  “The contract for mining rights names who officially owns the asteroid we discovered. The riches are astronomic.” Philippe smiled. “I’m signing it in two hours and you can sign, too. The credits you’ll get will change your life.”

  Sebastian chuckled as he recalled the shuttle exploding, perhaps causing sufficient damage to the asteroid to invalidate this contract.

  “I could kill you and take the rights.”

  Leaning toward him, Philippe tapped a finger against the contract.

  “We agreed on seventy percent for me and thirty percent for you. Let’s keep to the deal.” Philippe shrugged. “Anyhow, you need me to finalize the contract.”
/>
  “I thought we agreed on equal shares for both of us.”

  After the barest pause, Philippe nodded. “So we did.”

  SEBASTIAN IGNORED PHILIPPE as he tapped his fingers on the real marble table in the assayer’s plush waiting room. The maroon velvet drapes and opulence was a sign of where Absolem’s real wealth lay. A well-dressed woman approached, the click of her heels echoing around the waiting room.

  “It’ll be another two minutes,” she said with a smile.

  As Sebastian smiled at her, Philippe edged toward him.

  “There’s something you need to consider first,” he said. “We’re about to sign a legal document, so we have to use our legal names, not aliases. We’ve both had trouble in the past, and you might be tempted to give a false name.”

  Sebastian fingered the contract. “Sebastian Jones is my real name.”

  Philippe waved the contract at him. “If you say so, but if you’re found out, the lie will invalidate your rights. On the other hand, the assayer will check a real name against known records and find out about your past.”

  Sebastian shrugged and waited for the woman to return and signal them to enter the assayer’s office. Inside the office, Sebastian suffered through the shiny-faced assayer’s tedious lecture about rights and legalities, waiting for his chance to sign.

  Finally, the assayer handed Philippe the contract. Philippe signed with a flourish. Then the assayer signed himself.

  “Witnessing on oath, Raphael Dubois’s signature,” he said.

  Philippe – now Raphael – had the grace to offer Sebastian an apologetic smile. Sebastian signed next. As the assayer witnessed and keyed their details into his console, Sebastian turned to his duplicitous partner.

  “Raphael?” he mouthed.

  Raphael shrugged and tapped his fingers on the couch arm, a steady chorus as they waited for their details to be verified. The assayer’s console beeped making the assayer gesture at Raphael.

  “Mr. Raphael Dubois, can you come here and check your details?”

  As Raphael got to his feet and moved around the desk, the assayer pressed a button on his side of the desk. Raphael tapped the screen and a heartbeat later, behind him, the door swung open.

  Sebastian turned around as two armed guards in crisp blue uniforms barged into the room. They flanked the desk. Sebastian mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that this interruption wouldn’t invalidate his part of the contract, but the men turned to him.

  “Are you Sebastian Jones?” the nearest one asked.

  The moment Sebastian nodded the other guard vaulted over the desk. With little time to react Sebastian threw a defensive arm in front of his face, but the guard brushed it aside and slammed a round-armed punch into his cheek.

  Sebastian rolled to the floor, his head ringing with the blow and his vision blurred. The guards rolled him over. Desperately, he tried to summon a push, but he couldn’t focus on the muscles needed.

  Constraints were wrapped around his hands. Then he was dragged to his feet.

  “You’re under arrest,” one guard said. “You have the right to remain silent, but we’ll construe your silence as a sign of guilt.”

  Standing groggy and confused, Sebastian shook himself.

  “What’s the charge?”

  “You’re wanted for the murder of Philippe LaGrain.”

  Chapter Ten

  IN THE MORNING ABSOLEM’S duty lawyer arrived. He slouched into Sebastian’s cell showing less enthusiasm than Sebastian felt for his internment. He laid out the facts and they made perfect sense.

  “Philippe LaGrain was a physics professor from New Sydney University and the author of a scientific treatise on a theoretical isotope. Two months ago he came to Absolem to use the knowledge he’d gained of asteroid development to search for the isotope. Last month you killed him in a back alleyway, and then freeze-dried and stuffed his body in a garbage hole.”

  “I didn’t do that,” Sebastian said.

  The lawyer withdrew a moist handkerchief from his pocket and patted his brow.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m just telling you what the authorities told me, and my job will be easier if you tell me everything.”

  “I’m innocent.”

  His lawyer mopped his brow. “All right, lying beside the body was a coat, and numerous skin fragments and hairs were on it. The authorities have identified these as containing your DNA and the professor’s. This is all the evidence they have. “

  “I can’t remember losing a coat.”

  Smiling, his lawyer patted Sebastian on the back. “So if they don’t have anything more, they won’t prove a thing.”

  Sebastian smiled, and decided to believe him. The authorities held the trial three days after his arrest. His lawyer eloquently explained the problems of circumstantial evidence and the limitations of forensic investigation to the court.

  Sebastian relaxed, but not for long. Raphael was the main witness. With mounting incredulity Sebastian listened to his tale.

  “I’ve worked in the Rigel belt for ten years,” Raphael said, his voice low and throaty. “I prospected for precious metals. Then that man standing over there approached me in a bar.”

  Raphael pointed at Sebastian with a trembling finger.

  “He said he had a plan to find this isotope. I didn’t understand the details, but he persuaded me to enter a partnership. Later, when we found the isotope, Sebastian attacked me. I only just escaped.”

  Raphael stopped his testimony to weep and wracking sobs filled the courtroom. Unfortunately, the judge leaned forward in apparent rapt attention. When Raphael’s snuffles subsided he restarted his lies, still in a faltering voice.

  “Sebastian searched for me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t sign our contract. Of course, I agreed – I had no choice – but luckily, the guards arrested Sebastian at the assayer’s office.”

  Sebastian couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He applauded.

  “Well done, Raphael,” he said sardonically. “The last bit did happen.”

  That evening his lawyer reviewed the day with cloying optimism.

  “You’ll have no problems,” he said. “All their evidence is hearsay and they have nothing concrete. I’ll have you out of here before you get bored with the decor.”

  Sebastian ignored him and consulted Software instead.

  Have you got any suggestions?

  I have no information on legal matters, although I don’t reckon your lawyer is very competent.

  Sebastian therefore concluded his only hope lay in pushing the judge into delivering a ‘not guilty’ verdict. He wasn’t confident of success, as the bigger the change of mind he needed to suggest, the harder he’d need to push, so he forced himself to relax into a trance as he prepared himself.

  TWO HOURS INTO THE morning the trial ended and the judge swept imperiously from the court to deliberate. Little additional evidence had been presented to the court. None of it had been in Sebastian’s favor, but his lawyer gave him a thumbs-up.

  After ten minutes, the judge returned. Apart from the various officers, the only other person there was Raphael. Sebastian faced the judge and prepared to push Not guilty with everything he could muster.

  The court clerk read the charge of first-degree murder and when the judge turned to him Sebastian pushed: Sebastian is not guilty.

  Sebastian swayed, his vision closing down to a few swirling motes of light. He fell against the front of the dock and then pushed himself upright. The judge held the bridge of his nose between a finger and his thumb, a pained expression on his face.

  As he should do, Sebastian thought.

  “Not guilty of first degree murder,” the judge said.

  Sebastian gulped, while Raphael twitched. The courtroom was quiet as the clerk rubbed his forehead and then approached the judge. Sebastian tried to force a smile while he fought to still the pounding in his head.

  The judge and clerk conversed. After some deliberation, the judge nodded and the clerk returned to h
is seat.

  “We’ll now pass judgment on the lesser charge of manslaughter,” he said.

  Sebastian grabbed the dock. He needed a delay, to give him the time to gather enough strength for another push. He caught his lawyer’s eye, but his lawyer only waved back at him. Sebastian’s head throbbed as if his skull would explode, but without any choice but to act now, he focused everything remaining in his mind.

  Sebastian is not guilty, he pushed weakly.

  “Guilty as charged,” the judge said, without pause.

  Sebastian flopped into his chair, unable to think. His last action, before darkness descended, was to note that Raphael held his head in his hands. Then, for the rest of the day, Sebastian couldn’t concentrate on life enough even to open his eyes, but the next morning his lawyer came with good news.

  “That was a great result,” he said.

  “Is there any chance of an appeal?” Sebastian said.

  His lawyer slapped his forehead. “I should think not! Only innocent people get an appeal.”

  “So what’s the good news?”

  “A two-year sentence isn’t bad. With good behavior and parole they could let you out in eighteen months.”

  “So I’ll just have to wait to kill Raphael,” Sebastian said to himself.

  TWO DAYS AFTER SENTENCING the authorities informed him that they would ship him and several other inmates to the northern continental penal colony on Crandania, his old home. Later, a guard clumped along the corridor to his cell.

  “You have a visitor,” he said.

  With a yawn Sebastian waved him away. “Tell my lawyer to waste someone else’s time.”

  “It’s not him.”

  Sebastian sighed and slouched after him to the visitor room. Raphael had come to gloat. Sebastian smiled at him through the glass wall that separated the innocent and the guilty.

  “They only sentenced me to manslaughter for your murder,” Sebastian said. “I’ll only serve two years at most. Then I’ll come for you.”

  Raphael smirked and rubbed his chin. “Do you want to know why they sentence criminals sent to the Crandania Penal Colony so lightly?”