by C N Samson
CHAPTER 31
THE MEDBAY OF THE Skyward was unusually crowded. In addition to the four guards, Norland and Prester were there, along with Dr. Parzo, Kassyrinx, and their two escorts.
All of them had gathered outside the isolation unit, where the purple hrulaphan was still strapped to the table.
“We did as you asked,” said Kassyrinx, “and you’re still intent on torturing him? To what end?” Every feather on his body stood erect.
“I don’t have to explain myself to a siddie,” Prester sneered, running a hand along the edge of the iso unit’s console.
“You guaranteed that all of us would live,” said Dr. Parzo.
Prester raised a finger. “Ah, but did I guarantee for how long?” He turned a dial on the console.
The hrulaphan’s back arched as electricity crackled through him. Even through the glass, his guttural howls and ragged trumpet blasts were frighteningly audible. Norland tasted bile at the back of his throat as smoke rose from the hurlie’s body.
Finally, Prester shut off the power. He peered through the glass.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “The cocker’s still alive!”
Norland glanced at the status display on the console, saw that it was true; the hurlie still had life signs.
Kassyrinx emitted a low rumbling sound, the feathers on his body ruffling.
Prester held out a hand to the nearest soldier. “Give me your sidearm.”
The soldier turned over his weapon. Prester accepted it and held the muzzle pointed at Kassyrinx’s head. “You want to say something, birdface?”
Norland coughed into his hand and said, “Sir, we might still need him.”
Prester slammed the butt of the pistol into the back of the siddie’s head. He recoiled, went silent.
“Fine,” Prester agreed. “But the hurlie is superfluous. They eat twice as many cubes as humans.”
Norland knew that what the man was going to do next was a terrible idea. “A few shots aren’t going to put him down right away. Not from that gun, at least.”
“Oh, for the Lord’s sake!” Prester said. “You’re really sucking all the enjoyment out of this, aren’t you?” He made some adjustments on the console display, then turned another dial. “So let’s suck all the air out there.”
Kassyrinx turned his head aside and made a low warble as the hurlie thrashed and fought to breathe. Norland didn’t want to witness the gruesome scene either, but Prester would take that as weakness, so he made himself watch. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Dr. Parzo; she stood as motionless as a statue, and her face bore a neutral expression. How could she just stand there like that?
After five minutes, the elephantine alien ceased moving and lay still. The iso unit’s computer confirmed that he had died.
“Took long enough,” Prester grumbled. “Good thing the unit recorded his death process. I know a few medics who’ll pay for that sort of info.” He snickered, then snapped his fingers at Norland. “Get rid of the hurlie, before he stinks up the ship.”
“It would have been easier if you’d just shot him into space,” Norland replied.
Prester made a dismissive wave as he sauntered out of the medbay. Norland watched him go, a knot of unease developing in his gut. The man had just thrown away the last element of physical leverage they had over the woman and the siddie. Though Norland was reasonably certain he could recreate the demonstration, there was yet a tiny chance that the two would still be required. How would they be forced to cooperate now?
ABOARD THE PSR SPACECRAFT Everstar, Rheinborne sat in the little crew lounge, reliving memories of his time in the Patrol. During his off hours, he had tried to keep busy by reading tech manuals or by engaging in LIBRA simulations, but he always ended up thinking about Kaye.
He shook himself all over, forcing himself to concentrate on the present. Tahla had gotten in touch with ZT, who had just completed a delivery of specialized parts to a small trans-system starliner. He would meet the Everstar at the designated rendezvous point in ten standard hours. Rheinborne and Tahla, as well as the body of Captain Drummond, would transfer to the Caspriona and head directly for Maralto. Gwynne’s ship, the Adventurer, had turned around and was making all possible speed to the planet.
Lieutenant Clayburn had closed himself in the cockpit, refusing Rheinborne’s offer to fly part of the way. Gwynne had promised the young patrolman that whatever happened, he’d still be a part of the PSR in one capacity or another.
The lounge door slid open. Tahla entered and sat beside Rheinborne.
“You doing all right?” he asked.
“I’m better,” she said. “And—thanks.” She squeezed his hand.
Clayburn came into the lounge, holding two sheets of live-paper.
“What’s that?” asked Tahla.
“This first is from Mr. Gwynne. A non-disclosure contract, basically it says that he’ll hunt me to the ends of the galaxy if I tell anyone about the mission.”
“Sounds about right,” said Rheinborne. “And the other one?”
“It’s coded only for you or Miss Two-Saints.” A puzzled look crossed the lieutenant’s face. “One thing I don’t understand, sir. If your friend is a prisoner, and her ECM was shut off, how is she still in communication with Gwynne?”
“It’s classified,” Rheinborne answered.
“Ah. Of course.” Clayburn handed to Rheinborne the second document, which was blank but had a black-and-red border. He pressed his thumb onto the ident square at the bottom, and the text became visible. It was a report from Valicia, detailing how she and Kassyrinx had been compelled to install the component onto one of the Skyward’s shuttles. Valicia had been willing to somehow attempt sabotage of the shuttle, but Gwynne had instructed her not to do so. Then it told of how Hurgompo...oh Great Lord. Rheinborne ground his teeth together.
Tahla cocked her head up at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and took the live-paper when he didn’t reply. She looked it over, gasped sharply and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Rheinborne’s gaze could have bored a hole through steel. As if he needed another reason to snap Prester’s neck! The man had better pray that the two of them never met.
CHAPTER 32
AT THE DESIGNATED TIME and coordinates, the Everstar and the Caspriona joined up.
Rheinborne and Tahla boarded the smaller courier ship through a docking tunnel, while the body of Captain Drummond was floated across into the Caspriona’s cargo bay. Clayburn and ZT covered the deceased with a tarp and strapped him down. The bay would remain depressurized in order to keep Drummond’s corpse preserved.
After Rheinborne thanked the lieutenant, the Everstar hyperjumped away. Aboard the Caspriona, ZT said some comforting words to Tahla, but there was little time for mourning or condolences; they still had much to do.
ON THE Skyward, Ellis Norland entered the cabin of Simeon Prester and informed him that the hurlie’s corpse had been jettisoned.
“We dumped it into hyperspace,” Norland said. “It was—”
“I don’t need the details,” Prester said, looking up from a dataslate.
“Fine. But I don’t think you had to do it.”
“What, you’re a hurlie lover now?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” Prester said, leaning back in his chair. “But we no longer need them. The artifact is installed and functional, all the steps to make it work are recorded, so...” He shrugged.
“And what if something goes wrong when you show it to Briggston? Won’t you need one of them to fix it?”
“I don’t trust them around it anymore.”
This puzzled Norland. “So why are you still keeping them alive?”
Prester let out a harsh laugh. “A hurlie once beat up my brother. Mangled his arm beyond prosthetics. I’ve never told anyone that, so don’t go repeating it.”
Norland pressed his lips together. Did the man have a point to make?
“And Dr. Parzo?”
“Her background only goes back about ten years; probably fabricated. I’ll bet her doctorate isn’t even real.”
“So who is she, really?”
“I didn’t care to get too far into it. But this means she can be more useful.”
Norland didn’t like the implication of that. “How so?”
“She’s got both brains and body, but people will only pay for one and not the other.”
“Oh,” said Norland, knowing full well what he meant.
“You disapprove?”
“Wouldn’t her knowledge be more valuable?”
“The Devornes aren’t in the business of artifacts. They’re in the people-to-people service.” He smirked. “With permanent mental reconditioning, she can be made totally compliant. In fact, I’m going let Briggston have a night with her as a gift.”
The thought sickened Norland. “She won’t do it.”
“She will if she’s been capped.” He patted the top of his head.
That last word gave Norland pause. “Capped?”
“Ah, don’t play ignorant. You know what I mean. If it wasn’t for your help, I wouldn’t have been able to acquire the parts for it.”
“A thought-cap,” Norland said, his voice just above a whisper.
“Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. It’ll be done.”
There were all kinds of objections Norland wanted to raise, but the one he chose was weak, which he knew even as he said it. “But Briggston’s married, though, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but why should that stop him from enjoying his life?” Prester stood and stretched. “You know, I’ve seen how you look at the woman. How much would you pay for an hour of her time?”
The question made Norland uncomfortable. He had imagined them together, of course, but not in that context. “How much? Ah...I really couldn’t put a price on it.”
Prester guffawed, pounded Norland on the shoulder. “That much, huh? Good!”
“Well, I have stuff to do.” Norland hastily left the cabin, queasy at the thought of that old ghoul Briggston having his foul way with Valicia. But what could he do? And why should he do anything? She was out of his hands, literally, and once the organization had rewarded him, he could have a dozen women like her.
As he hurried along the corridor, he thought over what Prester had so casually revealed. A mind-controlling thought-cap was the very definition of forbidden tech, and possession of such a device was one of the highest crimes under the law. While the plans for constructing a thought-cap weren’t hard to find, the actual components were nearly impossible to obtain—unless one had sufficient resources and wealth. And one of Norland’s tasks while undercover in the DSI had been to shield Devorne transactions from scrutiny, something that Prester had evidently taken advantage of.
Norland began to envisage what Briggston would do to a capped Valicia. He squashed the mental images, shuddering. Perhaps there was something he could do?
Yes. Maybe there was.
He accessed his ECM, placed a call to Vance. “Hey, if you’re not busy, meet me in the crew lounge, quick as you can.”
The tech specialist replied that he’d be there in five minutes. Norland signed off. Vance was known to be a data-hoarder, and it’d be very surprising if the man didn’t already have the plans for a thought-cap somewhere in his collection.
CHAPTER 33
THE Caspriona dropped out of hyperspace in the Ovunt system, near the ringed planet Emorani. It was the eighth world in the system, with Maralto being the fourth.
ZT transmitted a message to the Adventurer, but received no reply.
A standard hour elapsed. Still no response.
“Something must have happened,” said Tahla, staring out the cockpit window at the planet’s colorful rings.
ZT said, “If they were pushing their engines to the redline, then—”
“Engine failure wouldn’t necessarily affect the comm system,” Tahla countered.
“Then maybe they had to go dark,” ZT replied.
Rheinborne scratched his chin. “Try hailing them again.”
The young courier sent a second transmission, yet another hour crawled by without a word from Gwynne.
Rheinborne called the couple into the Caspriona’s crew lounge. “We can’t wait anymore,” he said. “Too much time has been wasted already.”
“But we can’t go in alone,” Tahla protested.
“She’s right about that,” agreed ZT. “We need a plan. Wasn’t Mr. Gwynne supposed to have some more intelligence for us?”
Rheinborne understood their desire for caution, but he could no longer sit around. “All right, you want a plan? Here’s one. We—” He broke off as a jabbing pain in his gut made him double over.
“Blake, are you okay?” Tahla asked, eyes wide with concern.
“Yeah, I just—” Rheinborne groaned, feeling as if his insides were about to explode. “I just gotta go!” He stumbled on rubbery legs into the head, which was thankfully located adjacent to the lounge. He slammed the door shut, got into position over the toilet with no time to spare. As the process of elimination began, he got the feeling that it wouldn’t be over so soon.
WHEN RHEINBORNE EMERGED several minutes later, Tahla asked if he was all right.
“Yeah, all good now,” he replied. “The nano expired and made their exit.”
“Oh, sickness!” said Tahla, scrunching up her face.
“I guess that means you’re no longer invincible,” ZT commented. He glanced at the door to the head and shuddered. “But while you were occupied, we’ve made a bit of progress.”
Tahla held up a sheet of live-paper. “I read over Valicia’s report again. She mentioned someone named Briggston. We’re sure she means Gill Briggston, who is—”
“One of the Devorne family elders,” Rheinborne finished. “Can I see that?”
Tahla handed him the paper. Rheinborne skimmed through it, found the reference. How had he missed it?
ZT said, “I’d say it’s a safe bet that they’re meeting on Maralto to hand over the artifact to him.” He crossed over to the lounge’s viewscreen, activated it. “A rich man like Briggston, he’d be staying at the Arusia Hotel in Port Sulanga.” A satellite map of the city flashed up on the screen.
“Okay,” said Rheinborne. “We go down there, stake it out, and—”
“Um, actually, no,” said ZT. “I don’t believe they’d risk making the transfer on the planet. If I were this Prester guy, I’d have Briggston come to me.”
“All right,” Rheinborne said. “So they show the Chythex tech to him on their ship, then Briggston takes possession and flies off. What about Valicia and Kassyrinx?”
Tahla and ZT exchanged a look.
“We don’t know if they’re still alive,” Tahla said quietly.
“We’ll operate as if they still are,” Rheinborne stated.
“What’s our priority, then?” ZT asked. “Rescuing your friends, or recovering the artifact?”
“Ideally, both,” Rheinborne answered.
“All right, that’s fine,” said ZT. “Now, this may be a trivial point, but how specifically are we to accomplish those things?”
An idea that had been bubbling in the back of Rheinborne’s mind came forth. They’d think it impossible, but he had nothing else.
“Wherever Briggston is, we find him and take him hostage. Then we trade his life for our friends and the artifact.”
The couple looked as if they were about to laugh, but when Rheinborne said nothing more, their expressions changed.
“Oh,” said Tahla. “That wasn’t a joke.”
“Not at all,” Rheinborne said.
There was silence for a very long moment.
“Neither of you has to be involved,” Rheinborne said. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”
Tahla gave a firm shake of her head. “No way, Blake! I’m not giving up now. Whatever it is you’re thinking, I’m in.”
“That means I’m in, too,” said ZT.
Their eagerness sparked a sense of apprehension within Rheinborne. It was admirable that they were willing to go on with the mission, but without adequate support or intelligence, what chance of success did they have?
“No, forget it,” he said. “We can’t—”
“Sure we can!” said Tahla. “We’re going to need some help, that’s all. In fact, I know someone who works at the hotel.” She went to the viewscreen, tapped on a sidebar menu. A photo of her with another young woman appeared. The two of them wore mechanic’s coveralls, and posed playfully beneath a battered metal sign that read “ITA REPAIR STATION #3.”
“That’s Marlaina, one of my friends from the Guild,” Tahla said. “She dropped out before graduation. She’s now a chixxar in the Arusia’s tech-ops department.”
“Oh, that’s Rabbitface, isn’t it?” said ZT. “I remember her.”
Tahla scoffed. “She’s Marlaina, to you.”
Rheinborne peered at the image. The girl was certainly attractive, with shiny emerald hair and a gleaming smile. But she had no rabbit-like features that he could see. “Are you still friends?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Tahla replied. “She’ll help, no question.”
“But she’s not an official Guildie.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s one in spirit. We all stick together.”
“That’s nice,” Rheinborne said. “But there’s still the matter of your uncle’s body to consider.”
“Already thought of that,” ZT said. “We can hide him on one of this world’s moons, and pick him up on the way back.”
“Is that all right with you?” Rheinborne asked Tahla.
