The Hades Connection

by Gabriel S. Timar

Chapter 4

As Arabella suggested, Jenny took good care of me. I had a nice Caesar salad followed by a Hungarian fish soup, a huge T-bone steak with baked potato, mushrooms and red wine. I closed the meal with kiwi fruit and a Viennese Sachertorte. The St. André cheese, the espresso coffee, and the Rémy-Martin cognac were the final insult to any Terrestrial diet meal.

Strangely, when I got back to Luce’s office, I did not feel bloated, nor did the alcohol affect me in any way. Mentally I was alert and physically fit.

When I entered, Arabella just pointed at the silver door. “Go in,” she said. “They’re waiting for you.”

Without slowing, I just nodded and marched into the inner sanctuary, where a large conference table was set up in the middle of the room. Two other people were present: one of them was a big bruiser like yours truly. He appeared to be in top shape. They both wore the Wall Street or Bay Street uniform: the dark suit with white shirt and college tie.

“George, old man,” Luce said cordially, “meet the rest of the team. This is Attila, the Hun. You must remember him from your history books.” He pointed at the big guy.

Attila was just a little shorter but heavier than I was. He had dark hair and a deep suntan looking like a professional football player’s; a lineman rather than an intellectual. We shook hands; Attila’s handshake was firm. There was a smile lurking in the corner of his eye.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, George,” he said. “I always admire people who conquer without the use of force.”

“The pleasure is mine,” I muttered.

“This gentleman,” Luce said, pointing at the other rather average-looking guy, “is one of your longtime idols, the number one pragmatist of Terrestrial history: Nick Machiavelli.”

“It’s nice to be appreciated,” Nick said as we shook hands.

“Sit down, gents,” Luce said, taking control of the meeting. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

We all took our places and Luce continued: “As you all know, George will be the field operative on the Khomu mission. Nick will take care of the political aspects,” he pointed at Machiavelli, “and Attila will handle the military aspects, transportation technology, tactics and the strategy.

“Nick, I think it would be nice if you gave us a quick rundown on the latest developments.”

Machiavelli opened the lid of his laptop and flicked it on. He looked around and started: “The Khomu High Council has finally voted to try negotiations. The vote was close and consequently they allocated limited resources to this aspect of the project. The negotiator is traveling on an old converted cruiser, the Nimrod. He left Khomu a couple of months ago. The ship should reach Earth four months from now.”

“Did you establish the timetable?” Luce queried.

“If you let me finish my analysis,” Nick said somewhat annoyed, “I’ll give you the schedule.”

“Sorry,” Luce said sheepishly.

“The Khomus are now building their main battle fleet,” Nick explained. “Attila’s analysis suggests that the last ship will be completed in about two months. Some of their vessels are already en route to Earth. The first one left a week ago; the rest will depart as they are completed. I expect the last one to leave Khomu in about three months.

“They are all gravac ships; none of them is faster than the negotiator’s battle cruiser. The fleet’s travel time is about six months. This means that the full Khomu fleet will be in orbit at Earth Two about eight months from now.”

“Thanks, Nick,” Luce said. “How much time will our negotiator have before the arrival of the main fleet?”

“If our calculations are correct, the negotiator will have no more than six weeks to two months to conclude an agreement on cooperation with the Terrestrial leadership,” Nick replied. “If the negotiations are not completed when the main fleet arrives, the Khomus may start shooting.”

“That is tight. Can we push the Nimrod along a little faster?” asked Luce.

“We could,” Attila answered. “If the Nimrod were equipped with the new zero-inertia drive, the ship could reach an Earth orbit in a matter of minutes. Even the neutron drive would get the ship there in a week or so.”

“How could we do it?” Luce queried.

“We’d have to put the Nimrod into dry dock,” Attila stated flatly.

“No good,” Luce shook his head, “they are too far from any facility we could offer them. Besides, the inertia drive would cost too much money. Can we deliver a neutron drive to the Nimrod and have them install it while traveling?”

“It’s technically possible,” Attila replied, “but you won’t like the time constraints. We must fabricate the equipment in the First Dimension, and that may raise too many organizational and financial problems.

“There are a few technical glitches as well; we must modify the power plant to fit the Nimrod’s hull. The design alone would take no less than two months, using lots of overtime. The installation of the drive would take at least as long if not more. You would gain practically nothing, perhaps a couple of weeks of negotiating time. Besides, we would have to move a lot of personnel from here to the First Dimension, and the chances of getting caught interfering would be very high.”

“We’d better scratch the possibility of giving more time to the negotiator,” Luce remarked.

“Due to the time constraint, George should scare the terrestrials and negotiate from a position of strength,” concluded Nick.

“I’ll see when I get there,” I said. “I’m not sure how they’d react to a show of force.”

“Okay,” Luce continued, “Attila, do you think the armament of the Nimrod is good enough to make a strong impression on the Earth leaders?”

“It is,” Attila replied. “It has laser cannons, neutron torpedoes with nuclear warheads and a few small biocon bombs. Its armaments should be enough to impress the Terrestrials.”

“Good,” said Luce. “Now the last problem: how do we get George on the negotiating team?”

“That is rather complicated. His arrival was fortunate, but the selection was sudden. I will talk to our driard and review the options in the afternoon,” said Machiavelli. “I’ll give you a report first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” Luce said. “Do you need any additional expertise?”

“Yes,” Nick replied. “I’d like to have a communications expert to keep in touch with our agents...”

“Lexie Bell is available,” Luce stated. “Anybody else?”

“Lexie is okay,” Machiavelli said. “I’ll also need a top-notch engineer.”

“You have quite a pool to pick from,” Luce concluded. “If push comes to shove, I can help.”

“Can I have Federico Caproni?” he asked. “I like working with Italians; we understand each other.”

“Caproni is yours,” Luce stated. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Machiavelli said. “Please set up a meeting for seven tomorrow morning.”

“Will you talk to Gemma or should I?” Luce asked.

“You are way too concerned with the driard, Luce,” Nick replied. “I’ll talk to her, rest assured. We know she is much cheaper than the others.”

With the meeting for the next day all arranged, Attila and Machiavelli left, and again I was alone with Luce.

“Any questions, George?” Luce queried.

“Just one,” I replied. “Assuming I get on the negotiating team, how far do I carry the ball?”

“It’s hard to say,” Luce replied. “There is an element of risk involved. If you get too much publicity or you stay there too long, someone may decide to scan you. Then the cat will be out of the bag and we may get caught.”

“What do you mean?” I queried.

“Well, it’s like this,” Luce explained. “Interference is strictly illegal. If someone scans you, they will immediately discover that the link between your body and soul is artificial. They’ll know you are one of our agents.”

“Then we get fined, they throw me in jail or do something equally gruesome to me,” I finished the sentence for Luce.

He nodded: “If you reach the point where the Terrestrial leaders agree to start work on the thrusters, and you have some means to assure that they will do it, you should disappear and consider your mission completed.”

“I understand,” I replied.

“Well, George,” he said, “I don’t need you any more today. You should get to know your new home and exercise the new body a little.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

“Ari has arranged a guided tour for you,” he continued. “Miss Cleo, one of our junior security officers, will give you the grand tour of Mammon City. She’s waiting in the outer office.”

I stood up and looked at him: “Thank you, Luce, thank you for everything. It’s wonderful to be alive again.”

“Don’t thank me, George,” he replied. “Just do the job. If it were not for your special qualities, you would be staring at the kaleidoscope for an eternity. I’m a businessman, not a do-gooder.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I’m acquainted with your Terrestrial reputation.”

“And I’m aware of yours,” he winked at me. “Cleo is a hot little number and your body is still new. Take it easy, will you?”

I grinned at him, waved goodbye and left the office.

* * *

Luce did not lie. I later discovered he rarely did. He was like a good lawyer; he lied only when there was no other way and it was absolutely necessary.

Cleo was hot just looking at her. Even my Rolex missed a couple of beats. She was a tall, extremely well-proportioned, sun-baked blonde with blue eyes; from a distance she looked like a Scandinavian goddess. When I got closer to her, shook her hand and looked into those deep blue eyes, I concluded that she was not a Scandinavian. She was too lively.

My experience with the female of the species from the extreme North was rather extensive; in fact, my friends often suggested that I was an expert on Swedish and Finnish women. In bed, I found most of them like dead fish. The hidden fire in Cleo’s eyes alone could have solved the energy problems of a smaller Arctic city. Thus, I concluded she was not a Scandinavian, but she was a goddess for sure.

Following the introductions, we agreed on taking a quick city tour ending up in one of the better restaurants for a champagne dinner. What would follow that nobody knew, but I had my own plan of action worked out.

To be continued...