“Our working theory is illegal medical research,” Yuri said. “Twenty-one percent of the total medical expenditure in the Sol system involves Kcell replacement treatments. That is serious money, because, let’s face it, we are a species of hypochondriacs.”

“But the research and development of new applications is slow,” I explained. “Human regulatory agencies have pretty strict restrictions and protocols. The simple and easy Kcell applications, like a new heart, were first to gain approval, and still form the bulk of their sales. But the more complex organs and glands take time. The Olyix’s human research partners have to proceed cautiously, and they’re the ones making the investment. We think they might be aiming to shortcut that process. And if they propose an underground deal, the Olyix will adopt that mind-set. After all, it’s human.”

“Shit!” Kandara looked shocked. “Are you saying they’re experimenting on live humans?”

“Not the Olyix themselves,” I said. “It’ll be the companies doing the Kcell functionality research, who’ve set up some dark labs to accelerate the work. They only get a small percentage of Kcell sales, but everything is relative. And new Kcell medical treatments hitting the market bring in more legitimate money. Which is the Olyix goal. They’re complicit; they have to be. As Yuri says, the amount of money involved is phenomenal. Buying enough energy to recharge an arkship for interstellar flight doesn’t come cheap.”

“Are they still doing it? Kandara asked. “Are people still going missing?”

Yuri’s laugh was more a groan of despair. “People are always going missing. Most cases are suspicious. We simply don’t know if this kind of illegal experimentation is still going on.” He shrugged. “There have been some good Kcell transplant products released over the last thirty-seven years; the spleen, lymph nodes, stomach lining tissue; not to mention the cosmetics.”

“The Universal authorities must have some idea if people are being snatched,” Eldlund said. “How many people go missing each year in suspicious circumstances?”

“Across fifteen solar systems and a thousand habitats? Who knows?” Yuri said. “On Earth alone, the figure is tens of millions a year. Most of them are what the agencies class as ordinary missing persons—people who are depressed or want out of their relationships or families, or petty criminals or people with debts, or they’re girls and boys who’ve been groomed and get trafficked. Some turn up again, but plenty don’t. There is just no way of knowing which of them are snatched by bastards like Baptiste.”

“That many?” an aghast Eldlund exclaimed. “It can’t be.”