Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  The guard shrugged and forwarded Deve’s data to someone inside the ship. “Do we have clearance for this brownshoe?” he asked, appraising Deve with a critical gaze that included the stolen service badges. “Engineer going to Targon, he says.”

  Deve wished himself far away from here, maybe back with his smuggler crew running dope out of Pelion. I don’t know anything about ships like these, he sent to Lep Ako. They’ll toss me out the air lock when they find that out.

  “Leave that to me,” Lep Ako replied. “Just don’t wet your pants.”

  Deve put on his most belligerent scowl and tried to look like he wasn’t worried about his imminent arrest while they waited for a response.

  Finally, a lazy drawl issued from the security sentinel’s speaker. “Yah, that’s confirmed. Deal was made with port management two days ago. Must be some talent if Targon wants him. Tell him to report to Stubbs and make himself useful. We’re shoving off in a couple of hours.”

  How did you do that? Deve sent when he was given directions and waved through the checkpoint. He gaped wide-eyed at the Air Command ship’s expensive interior. The air even smelled good in here. The floor wasn’t caked with whatever had stuck to everyone’s boots, the wall seams fit perfectly, and the engines were unheard up here. Officers moved through the corridors with crisply-uniformed efficiency, paying no attention to the man in the engineer’s coveralls, and the grunts didn’t even seem allowed on the main deck.

  “Air Command encryptions aren’t much harder to crack than the others here. This is going to be much easier than I thought.” Lep Ako already pored undetected through the Kimura’s data banks. “Black sky ops. Crew of twenty. Carrying thirty troops, including four Kite fighter planes. Interesting. There’s also a Ghoster off-planet, carrying another fifty troops. Must have been on some kind of mission when this went down here.”

  So much for getting to Targon.

  “All of these eventually end up there. Have patience. We’re here to get information. Don’t interact with anyone, don’t talk to people, keep out of everyone’s way and we’ll be fine. I’ll show you what you need to know to look busy.”

  I’m hungry.

  “The mess is one deck down. Don’t distract me.”

  What are you looking for?

  “The Centauri. The man who took the sire. His DNA is all over Air Command files. I have a name already.”

  Deve skipped the elevator and, like a proper engineer, descended a ladder through a conduit to the lower floor. His nose led him to a small dining hall. So who is it?

  “Minor sympathizer named Sethran Kada. They think he might have some Arawaj affiliation but he’s done work for the Shri-Lan in the past. Smuggler who looks like he gets results.”

  Guess he’s with the Shri-Lan now, if he’s collecting those disks for them. Deve chortled with delight when the available meals also turned out to be of far greater quality than the grub he was used to. He didn’t really give a damn if Lep Ako found this magical sire of his. If stowing away on the Union ship meant eating like this, he’d be happy to be aboard for months.

  “And he’s long gone. I can’t feel the sire at all now.”

  He might not even have it any more.

  “Maybe. We’ll let Air Command do our work for us. He’s wanted now because of that dead officer. They’ll find him, I’m sure. And then we’ll find out where they’re taking those disks. Stop eating now. You better get to work.”

  Deve managed a few more mouthfuls of real rice and fake meat and then stuffed a bag of sweet pricklebean curds into his pocket. He found his way to engineering where, after another inspection of his brand new credentials, he was given a job with the ship’s air and heat exchange crew. He actually knew a little about such systems and, guided by Lep Ako and using his considerable skill for slacking on the job, managed to stay outside everyone’s attention range for the next few hours.

  Lep Ako continued to comb through the ship’s data, concentrating on communications between the ships that worked this sub-sector. Information that would take a physical being days to decipher, organize, and interpret passed through his mind in minutes. Still, the Kimura had cast off and headed toward the jumpsite again before patterns emerged, names stood out among the chatter, and orders given by Union and rebel leaders started to make sense. He spent some time learning an obscure Caspian language but that, too, was worth the trouble. Little was being discussed about subspace entities, but that something unusual was being organized out here was clear.

  “Bringing my kind out of subspace is no easy job,” he said to Deve at last, startling the Human into dropping his tools. “People are dying. I and the other out there, with Kada, might actually be very rare.”

  “Your sire should be easy to find then, eh? You’ll be home in no time.”

  Lep Ako shimmered into view. It wasn’t a pleasant view, given the sneer on his face, but Deve felt better having a person to talk to than the voice in his head. “Perhaps.”

  “You’re going to take them all back, aren’t you? Your… your people? Out of those disk things?”

  The alien inspected himself through Deve’s eyes, studying his six-fingered hands as he turned them slowly. “I think maybe not.”

  “Huh?”

  Lep Ako spread his arms wide. “I like this place. This physical space. It’s small and limited but it’s filled with… with things! You would not believe the intel I’m finding in this database. What more is out there, I wonder.” He perceived Deve’s confusion. “Don’t you get it? This place, this real-space, is where my people belong. I know that now. I can bring them here. It’s been done at least twice. It can be done again. For all I know, someone’s already doing it.”

  “With those disks.”

  “Right. Someone out here knows about us. Maybe they’re looking for a way to keep us here. Maybe they’re looking for damn pets, who knows. They’ll find out soon enough who we are. There is only one thing that can stop us.”

  Deve swallowed hard when Lep Ako glared at him, waiting for him to respond. “Your… your sire?” he ventured.

  “Yes! As long as it is out here, we can be here, too. It calls, it points the way, and we just need a passing ship to leave subspace. We only need a host to…” he amended whatever he was going to say. “To befriend. To join with us as a new life form. To give us shape in exchange for some very useful abilities. They are useful, wouldn’t you say?”

  Deve recalled the incomparable surge of power when he murdered that mechanic on Rishabel. Not just the painful bolt of energy he channeled into him, but the thought that a simple touch from his hand could do so much damage filled him with awe. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Once I have the sire we’ll create a small team to infiltrate places we’ll need to establish ourselves. Hopefully I won’t have to go through too many duds till I have enough matches. I’m going to have to learn more about real-space physics. It’s so different from what we understand.”

  “I think my people feel the same way about your home,” Deve said. He returned to his assignment and knocked a heat sensor out of the way to install a new circuit. “Is this the relay I’m looking for?”

  “Yes,” Lep Ako said absently. “We can get that Sethran Kada to join us. He might have access to the sort of people we can use. Important rebels, people with the planes and equipment we’ll need. Men who aren’t afraid to try new things.”

  Deve busied himself with his tools, knowing too well that Lep Ako spoke of people who were nothing like him. His presence here was merely an accident. With every moment that passed, he felt the alien’s disapproval of him, perhaps even outright dislike. As much as he wanted to be rid of this frightening presence in his head, the thought that he only served until something better came along filled him with misery.

  “Targon is a good place to begin with,” Lep Ako said, oblivious to the Human’s dejection. “Imagine the fun to be had there.” He considered for a moment. “It’s got some awfully dense security but I can do it if I
get near the mainframe.”

  “The Shri-Lan have been trying that for a hundred years.”

  “Longer than that. But they didn’t have me. That’s all changed now.”

  4

  Even in the shade, the temperatures of Feyd were no more pleasant for the average Centauri than they were for other Prime species. Except, of course, Feydans. The natives seemed to make a point of walking about thickly dressed while people like Seth stripped down to their undershirts. Perhaps it amused them.

  Seth slumped on a ledge against someone’s garden wall, watching a woman and her children make their way toward the Union-operated commerce center to the north. Like most of her people, her smooth brown skin was tattooed with patterns and symbols that told the stories of her ancestors. He had studied some of that but meaningful interpretation of these markings took more than casual interest.

  “Do you like that?”

  Seth tipped his head back against the wall. The heat of the day seemed doubled by Feyd’s high gravity and he wanted to sleep. Somewhere behind him water gurgled into a pool and he wished himself already within Baroch’s private compound, cooled by such water and served a long, cold drink.

  “That woman?” he said without looking at Khoe who had come to sit beside him.

  “Yes. With those lines drawn all over her.”

  He shrugged. “She’s pretty.” He watched Khoe turn her arm in front of his face to study her Centauri-pale skin. “You don’t need tattoos. You’ll just end up writing something rude on your forehead or something.”

  She squinted at him. “I can read. Besides, you have a tattoo.”

  He turned his arm out to peer at the detailed drawing of an ocean-going vessel with massive sails just above the inside of his elbow. It disguised the slightly raised edges of the emergency com unit embedded under his skin. “The Flying Dutchman,” he said, running his finger over it.

  “What’s that? Other than your ship, I mean.”

  “Some old Human legend I read long ago. A ghost ship that sails around forever.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yeah.” He found his eyes traveling past his arm to the gauzy swath of fabric she had chosen to wear, simulating the fashions worn here. It displayed a rather spectacular neckline. “Do you feel this heat?”

  “Yes, like you do. It’s not pleasant. It makes you sluggish.”

  He moved his hand closer to her and poked her thigh. “You don’t feel that?”

  “I told you. I feel you feeling me.”

  “Because you’re in my head.”

  “Right.”

  He pulled his hand back and smiled broadly at an elder passing by with a suspicious look on his face. I really shouldn’t sit here talking to Miss Invisible, he projected.

  “Or feeling her up,” she added. “So where is this driver your boss is sending for you? You sent that message hours ago.”

  Late, I guess. Baroch won’t be happy about that. Delphians are very punctual.

  “Why do you need a driver? Are you important?”

  He looked beyond her and jerked his chin toward an approaching skimmer. There he is now.

  The air car slowed down as it approached the appointed meeting place and the canopy retracted. A Human woman inspected Seth with a critical eye. “Kada?” she said.

  “I was expecting Vydian.”

  She climbed out of the skimmer and handed him a uniform jacket after passing a wand over his eyes. Matching his retina information against her data display, she shrugged. “He’s busy.” She watched Seth dress in the coat that would identify him as a member of Baroch’s personal staff. “He’s at the stables. Get going.”

  “I was here on time,” Seth said as he took her place in the vehicle.

  “You don’t like that one very much,” Khoe observed. “Because she’s not pretty?”

  Because she’s rude. He pulled a water bottle from a compartment and drank a good portion of it before handing it to the woman. “Have a nice walk.”

  “That was also rude,” Khoe said when they had left the driver behind.

  “Yeah, it was.” Seth grinned, starting to feel better. He left the skimmer’s canopy down and sighed happily when the breeze cooled the sweat on his body. The vehicle turned away from the town where he had parked the Dutchman and headed into the lush countryside. No air scenter available to spacefaring crews matched the live, ever-changing smell of green things growing. “She started it. Since when are you an expert on manners?”

  “Things are fitting together,” she said earnestly. “It’s thrilling. I scan through your database and I find… themes. Concepts that don’t seem to belong together somehow do. Some agree with others, and then some things just come up as such wonderful mysteries. It’s starting to feel like I just know things without even meaning to.”

  Seth glanced at her intent, excited expression. The joyful smile was utterly contagious. “I noticed that, too. Look at your face.”

  “I don’t even have to think about some things any more. Non-verbal communication, for example. Happening on its own. Of course, there’s just you to try that out on.”

  He laughed. “Bored with me already?”

  She quickly put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean that! I like being here with you. I’m so grateful for your help. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I love a mystery.” He let his eyes roam across the charming landscape to give her a good view of what Feyd had to offer. The rolling hills produced some of the best food in this sub-sector and he made a mental note to pick up fresh supplies before he left this place. Arooja berries, which yielded a delicious sweet-bitter juice even if they did tend to stain one’s teeth for hours afterward, were at the top of his list.

  Trees closed in when they passed into a valley and finally reached the Factor’s estate. Seth passed through a security check at the gate and then took the vehicle beyond the main building to the stables a little further along the road.

  The stables were a rare indulgence for the Delphian leader. His people did not keep pets and these animals, descended from a mammal brought here by Humans and bred for riding, served little practical purpose. Seth had once joined Baroch on a ride through the valley’s meadows and looked forward to another such outing. He smiled when he imagined Khoe’s reaction. Of course, taking horses into the fields also meant an opportunity for a private meeting with his employer.

  He parked the skimmer near the entrance to the stables beside a few others undoubtedly belonging to Baroch’s ever-present security detail. Baroch’s personal shuttle, gleaming and well-appointed, seemed out of place here.

  By the Factor’s own strict directive, he left his weapons in the vehicle. The service entry yielded to his hand print and he entered the cool, quiet stable redolent with the scent of horse, wood and hay. His scanner showed a few people near a paddock at the other side where Baroch would be waiting for him. He stopped near an enclosure to let Khoe take a look at one of the animals but it was skittish and refused to come closer.

  Something not right here, he projected. The silence seemed more like that of a tomb than a drowsy summer’s day. He noted tension, like being surrounded by people holding their breath in anxious anticipation.

  “What do you mean?”

  Not sure. Where is everybody? Not even a stable hand worked among the animals today. No voices, no sound of water running or harness clanking. He turned back to the front entrance, pretending interest in one of the horses there.

  “Check your perimeter,” Khoe said urgently.

  He did and counted several bodies rapidly moving around to the front of the barn. Despite its bucolic appeal, this place was as tightly sealed as any secure facility and he doubted that the door to the corral was currently unlocked. He stepped into the brilliant sunlight to face the muzzles of a half dozen guns. Damn.

  “I don’t see your boss,” Khoe said.

  Seth felt someone take position behind him. “Good morning,” he said cautiously.


  “Sethran Kada, I’m guessing?” a lieutenant said from a calculated distance. None of the guards looked like mere grunts; he felt himself measured and judged down to every atom of his instinctively battle-ready body.

  “I expected to meet with Lord Baroch. Privately.” Seth looked past the soldiers and saw none of the estate’s own staff out here, either. “He’s not the warmest Delphian I’ve ever met but his welcome doesn’t involve guns.”

  “I am Lieutenant Soogan,” the officer said. He gestured to the vehicles in front of the stable. “Please join us in the Factor’s shuttle.”

  “It is empty,” Seth said. He walked reluctantly back to the parking area. “Where is he?”

  “Is this bad?” Khoe asked. “They seem very grim.”

  Yes, this is bad. This is Air Command. Not his own security. They have no business out here unless there is some emergency. Baroch would not meet me here if the place was crawling with cops. He doesn’t exactly want to be seen with me.

  Seth had little choice but to accept the lieutenant’s invitation to enter Baroch’s shuttle. A floating lounge for someone of high esteem, it was furnished in gleaming wood and rich fabrics, the usual accessories for one of the ten absolute leaders of the Commonwealth. Even with the other soldiers in here, the vehicle did not seem crowded. All of them knew that it also made a very secure prison.

  Soogan gestured to one of Baroch’s well-cushioned chairs in a way that suggested a refusal on Seth’s part would be poor manners, indeed. “Let’s have a sit-down. Targon asked us to head out here to take a look when you landed. Xenoscience Div. Isn’t that interesting? I’m afraid we have bad news.”

  Seth’s eyes took a quick tour around the shuttle, noting windows and doors and the chances of making it to any of them before he was taken down. Unlike the research being done by Targon’s excellent ethnology departments and an expert staff of exobiologists, xenoscience was a polite Air Command term for keeping tabs on non-Union species. Perhaps on species like Khoe’s. “Has something happened?” He sat on the edge of the chair, his body coiled for flight. Can you get into the shuttle’s system without them noticing? He folded his arms to hide activity on his data sleeve from the watchful eyes around him.