Chapter 69

A Nice Day

Alexander woke to the sound of chirping outside and the faint thrum of dramatic music from inside the house. After getting dressed, he made his way downstairs, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, and froze at the bottom step.

All the aliens except the Syltharian sat arranged around the holo, watching Barkforce. The crystalline one had somehow folded itself into Augustus’s favorite chair. The blue alien sat cross-legged on the floor, gills fluttering with what might have been excitement. Even the hostile one from yesterday was perched on the arm of the couch.

Alexander made his way to Talia, who was observing from the kitchen doorway with a cup of coffee.

“Where did you move the Syltharian?”

“My room,” she said, taking a sip. “Annie insisted on introducing our guests to ‘Earth’s greatest cultural achievement.’ We’ve been busy answering questions and keeping them calm all morning.”

Alexander nodded and grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard.

“Heading to the station?” Augustus asked from his spot at the kitchen table.

“Yeah.”

“Want a portal to the lake?”

“No, I’ll walk down. Clear my head.”

Annie’s voice carried from the living room without her looking away from the screen. “Don’t forget to bring back something fun! Maybe a laser sword!”

“We don’t need a laser sword,” Talia called back.

“Everyone needs a laser sword!”

Alexander left them to their debate, stepping out into the morning air. The walk to the lake was peaceful, giving him time to think about how much it might cost to purchase black market serum and what they’d need to prepare for the combat challenge.

At the shore, he pulled out the black card and started the call through his neural interface. The door materialized a few feet away, and a woman in an immaculate uniform stepped out. This was a different concierge from last time.

“Good morning, Mr. Rooke. Astra Omnia welcomes you.”

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter with no formalities. He passed through the doorway, emerging in the private room on the other side.

“Thank you,” Alexander said.

“You’re most welcome. I am at your service should you need anything.”

“Actually, I need directions to where I might source black market goods. Specifically, superhero serum.”

The concierge didn’t even blink. A moment later, directions appeared in his mind, overlaid with a map of the station.

“Level seven, section thirty-three. The establishment you want is called ‘Necessities.'”

Alexander nodded his thanks, then paused. “Actually, I need one more thing. Where can I find a 3D nanoscale printer? Either to purchase or rent workshop space with one.”

The concierge didn’t miss a beat. “Any particular specifications?”

“Minimum resolution of ten nanometers, preferably down to five. Needs to handle metallic substrates, including titanium and exotic composites. Multi-material deposition capability is essential. Has to support both additive and subtractive processes in the same build cycle.” Alexander paused, then added, “And an isolated vacuum chamber with at least ten-to-the-minus-six torr. I need to work with reactive metals without oxidation.”

The concierge’s eyes flickered with what might have been interest. “Industrial sector, level twelve, section eight. Three facilities offer hourly rental with those specifications. The best equipped is ‘Precision Unlimited’ and they have a Zhao-Matsuura NX-7000 series that exceeds your requirements.”

Another data packet arrived in his mind, complete with pricing and availability.

“The Zhao-Matsuura can do two-nanometer resolution on good days,” she added. “Though rental runs about fifty thousand per hour.”

Alexander nodded. Expensive, but he’d expected that. “Thank you.”

He tipped her generously and headed into the station proper. Today’s priority was getting Talia the serum, but he’d be returning as soon as he could to look into the printer options.

The number of people on the station looked the same as usual, but something felt different today. Eyes lingered on him. Conversations paused as he passed. A group of what looked like mercenaries tracked his movement across the plaza.

He kept walking, maintaining a casual pace despite the attention prickling at his awareness. His simple jeans and t-shirt should have let him blend in, but instead he felt like a spotlight was following him.

The axial elevator was crowded. A woman in power armor kept glancing at him. A teenager with obvious cybernetic enhancements actually took a photo before his friend smacked his arm.

Something is weird.

Level seven was grungier than the upper sections, all exposed pipes and flickering lights in compact steel hallways. The attention followed him here too, though the residents were better at hiding it.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

‘Necessities’ occupied a narrow storefront wedged between a weapons dealer and what might have been a brothel. The sign was hand-painted, barely visible. Alexander pushed through the door, a bell chiming overhead.

The interior was cramped, shelves stacked with unmarked boxes and bottles. Behind the counter sat an elderly man with too many scars and not enough fingers.

“Help you?” the man asked, though his eyes had already sharpened with recognition.

“I’m looking for superhero serum.”

The man’s remaining fingers drummed on the counter. “That’s expensive merchandise. Especially today.”

Alexander kept his expression neutral. “Why especially today?”

The scarred man smiled, revealing gold teeth. “You really don’t know? Friend, your face is worth as much as this station right now.”

Alexander’s hand moved instinctively toward where his mask would normally be. But he’d left it at the estate, thinking casual clothes would help him blend in.

The shopkeeper laughed. “Santiago Systems put out a special bounty eight hours ago. Five million credits on delivery for each member of Grimnir. Ten million for Alexander Rooke specifically. Dead or alive. And the kicker? Full ownership and development rights over an entire continent on one of Santiago’s paradise worlds out at the edge of human-controlled space for returning whatever you stole.”

Alexander forced himself to remain calm. “And?”

“And I’m a businessman, not a fool. I ain’t your problem.” The man reached under the counter, producing a vial of familiar gold liquid. “Two million. One to take advantage of the actual problems heading your way, and another because the corpos have locked up the supply with this whole System thing going on.”

On any other day, Alexander would have haggled. Maybe even argued. But he could feel a whole suite of combat tech and electrical signals coming down the axial elevator at the center of the station. He hadn’t thought people would risk the Queen of Heart’s threat of retaliation for anything, not to mention the inherent risks of fighting on a space station.

Apparently, he was wrong.

“Deal,” he said, paying quickly and pocketing the vial.

With the transaction complete, Alexander left the little store in a hurry, hoping he was wrong about what he was feeling. In case he wasn’t, though, he quickly sent out a message using the station’s network.

He’d barely made it three stores down before he sensed them spreading out ahead. Twelve distinct electrical signatures clustered between him and the axial elevator.

They were waiting.

Alexander sighed and kept walking. No point in delaying the inevitable.

They spread out as he approached, trying for tactical positioning but achieving something closer to nervous shuffling. Most wore exoskeletons or powered armor, joints whirring with barely contained energy. A few had gone for advanced weaponry instead: high-velocity blasters and plasma edges, things that screamed expensive and illegal. One genius had grenade bandoliers strapped across his chest and waist.

A single superhuman with a scarred face hung back, arms crossed. Enhanced durability from the look of him, maybe strength too. But smart enough to let the others test the waters first.

“Alexander Rooke,” one of them announced through a voice modulator. “You’re coming with us.”

Alexander stopped, hands in his pockets. He looked at them, then shook his head.

“Really? You know I’m a Technopath, right?”

Several of them shifted. The one who’d spoken raised his weapon higher.

“Every bit of tech you have has been within my reach since you got off the elevator.” Alexander tried for the kind of tired disappointment teachers reserved for students who hadn’t done the reading.

“That guy,” he pointed at grenade-belt, “has enough explosives strapped to his waist that I could turn him and those around him into abstract art with a literal thought.”

The group took several large steps away from grenade-belt, who turned very pale.

“And you,” Alexander continued, indicating a woman with an impressive energy rifle. “Nice blaster. Want to see what happens when I release the energy cell safeties and detonate it?”

She lowered the weapon slightly, uncertainty creeping into her stance.

“Cybernetics? Armored exosuits?” Alexander gestured at the majority of them. “More like my hands inside your skin and walking metal coffins. You know I control metal too, right? And we’re on a space station.” He swept his arms wide, encompassing everything around them. “The floor. The buildings. The overhead beams. There’s metal everywhere, even without what you’re all wearing.”

One exosuit’s servos locked up briefly, just for a second, but long enough for its wearer to make a strangled sound of panic.

“Your positioning is terrible, too,” Alexander continued, warming to the act. “You’re standing directly under a maintenance hatch with exposed power conduits. You’re literally surrounded by my weapons. And that guy in the back trying to jam communications?” He tilted his head. “Not only would that not work against me, I already sent all the messages I needed when I sensed you coming down the elevator.”

The group had gone from aggressive to deeply uncomfortable. Grenade-belt’s hand twitched toward his explosives.

“Don’t,” Alexander said sharply. “Sudden movements make me nervous. When I’m nervous, I set things off. Especially explosive things.”

The hand stopped moving.

A doorway materialized behind the group with an elegant whoosh. The Doorman stepped through first. It was Alexander’s first time seeing him, and he looked every bit the gangster Annie had described. Half of the bounty hunters immediately backed up.

Then the Queen of Hearts emerged, looking like she’d been interrupted from something amusing but not particularly important.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” she said, voice carrying despite its conversational tone. “You appear to be crowding one of my black card holders.”

“The bounty—” someone started.

“Is irrelevant on my station,” the Queen cut them off. “You have not yet crossed any lines that can’t be forgiven, with appropriate donations made to address my emotional distress. If, however, you decide to be unwise, you will deal with this entire station’s security force.”

The silence stretched. Most were already edging toward the exits.

The superhuman finally spoke up. “What did you steal?”

Alexander met his eyes. “Nothing I intend to share. Besides, if I told you, or you were actually successful in obtaining it, Santiago would end you just as badly as he wants to end me.”

That did it. The group scattered like roaches when the lights came on. Some muttered about “not worth it” or “bad intel.” Grenade-belt very carefully walked away, hands visible and nowhere near his explosives.

The superhuman lingered a moment longer, then shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said, and walked off.

The Queen watched them disperse with amusement. “The greedy and the stupid so often travel together,” she observed. “Though I’m surprised they tried it here.”

“People make poor decisions in the pursuit of wealth,” Alexander said.

She studied him with those calculating eyes. “Indeed they do. I won’t ask, though I cannot deny I am curious. And I appreciate the restraint; it was smart to buy time for us to arrive. Enjoy your shopping, Mr. Rooke. Do try not to cause any more disruptions.”

The Doorman opened another doorway, and they stepped through without another word.

Alexander stood alone in the corridor, the vial of serum warm in his pocket. The attention hadn’t gone away but nobody else seemed eager to test their luck. He waited a few moments just to be sure, then headed for the elevator.

He had a delivery to make, and work to do. The combat challenge was coming, and his team needed every advantage he could build them in that short time.

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