“Is something the matter, Scout?” Tucker shifted his bulk about in the second officer’s seat and gave her a look of concern.
Consuela raised one hand to silence him and sent out the words, Scout checking in.
Pilot here. Dunlevy’s tone came back calm and reassuring. How are you?
Hurts. Consuela lowered the power gauge down to where the myriad of voices was reduced to a constant shrill static. So many voices.
Amp up, Scout. Can barely read you. As Dunlevy had suggested before departure, they refrained from using names. There was no way of telling who might be monitoring, or how closely.
Consuela increased the power and repeated her words. The background noise had the persistence of a dozen dentist drills working in her skull.
Dunlevy thought a moment, then said, I assume you can hear me all right.
Consuela responded, Affirmative.
Then power up only to send. Dunlevy showed astounded humor behind his words. Ask the flight lieutenant for his ETA.
Consuela twisted down the power fully and looked up, only to realize that every eye in the transport was upon her. “The pilot asks when we are expected to arrive.”
The first officer checked his chrono, and responded crisply, “One hour ten. Are you all right, Scout?”
“Yes, thank you.” Consuela wiped at the sweat streaming down her face, then smiled as Tucker passed her a hand towel. She powered up and sent the time, then instantly cut back the comm strength.
The Imperial Hegemony has arrived in the form of a battalion commander, a senior pilot, and a fleet admiral, Dunlevy informed her. Not to mention a contingent of twenty fully armed dragoons as escort. They seemed pleased to find me on board, which is troubling. They then insisted on a formal inspection of the entire ship.
Despite the strain and discomfort, Consuela felt a shiver run through her. They were searching for something.
My thoughts exactly. They were most angry by the time the inspection was completed. And confused. They have been closeted with the captain ever since. Dunlevy’s concern came through loud and clear. I fear the worst. Best you inform the others. Check back this time tomorrow.
And this noise?
You are picking up on Imperial traffic, Dunlevy replied. Even I can catch segments of it now and then. This is good for us, as so much traffic will mask our own communications.
Until tomorrow, then.
Consuela powered down, stripped off the headset, and leaned back against the seat. She felt exhausted.
“Here, Scout.” A cool cup was pressed into her hand. Consuela looked up to see Tucker leaning over her. “Is there anything we can do?”
“I’m fine, really. It’s just . . .” She struggled for a way to explain. “There’s a lot of confusion.”
Tucker kept grave eyes upon her. “From the console?”
She shook her head. “From the Imperial battleships.”
The entire transport braced at her words. Consuela took a breath and explained what Dunlevy had reported. When she was finished, there was a long silence. Consuela was content to wait and sip at her cup. Then the communicator asked, “Should I relay this to the pods?”
“It can wait until we are safe on the ground.” The first officer, though young, bore the same grim determination as Captain Arnol.
“Too much chance of being overheard, this close to a base,” Tucker agreed.
Consuela took another sip and glanced through the front portals. She caught sight of a rock-shaped pod floating off to their left and wondered if it was Rick’s. For a brief instant, she found herself envying Rick’s easy way with these newfound friends. But she knew it was simply not her nature. She had always been reserved. The gift she had found waiting for her here in this realm, this extraordinary sensitivity, conformed to who she already had been on Earth. As though the gift melded to her reserve and granted it meaning.
She kept her gaze on the front portals. Despite her time in space, nothing had prepared her for this approach to a lunar landscape. The eerie vista drew her away from both her thoughts and her discomfort. She had never imagined that anything could look so utterly alien, so totally void of life.
The sky was made even blacker by the moon’s silver-white scenery. Stars rimming the horizon grew ever more distant at their approach. The horizon itself was brutally jagged, as the moon’s mountains had never known the wearing power of wind or rain. Even from this height, the peaks looked impossibly tall.
Directly beneath them spread out a great valley, the floor scarred with manmade domes and rutted tracks and circular meteor craters. Against the lunar backdrop, all man’s efforts looked puny.
A sudden shaft of light pierced the blackness, forming a brilliant curtain toward which they floated. Consuela gasped and drew back involuntarily. Tucker grinned and said, “First lunar sunrise, lass?”
“First time on any moon, ever.” There was none of the fresh wonder of an earthbound dawn. Instantly all was either burning brightness or impenetrable shadow.
“Just stay close,” Tucker said, “you’ll be fine.”
“We’re getting a signal from below,” the comm officer said. “Wants our details.”
“Here, let me handle that. Switch the signal to the overhead, will you?” Tucker accepted the hand mike, and when static hissed from the intercom, he said, “Come again, matey, we didn’t catch you.”
“Then open up your ears,” snapped the speaker. “I don’t like repeating myself, especially for rock hounds asleep at the wheel.”
Tucker leaned back with a relieved sigh. “Happy, don’t tell me they haven’t given you a one-way ticket to the asteroids yet.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then, “Tuck! You old scoundrel, is that you?”
“None other,” Tucker replied jovially. “Good to know you’re as full of smiles and laughter as ever.”
“Full of spit, you mean. What brings you back to this forsaken hole?”
“I hear there’s a mother lode just waiting to be dug out and delivered to market. Figure I and my men are the ones for the job.”
There was a phlegm-filled laugh. “Then you’re not the Tuck I know. He was always too smart to fall for that one.”
Tucker shared an easy laugh, though it did not reach his eyes. “You’ve caught me out, mate. Truth be known, I got tired of the spit-and-polish routine. Put together a group of like-minded fellows, adventurers to a man.”
“Mercenaries, you mean.”
“I won’t quibble with you, Happy. Know of any likely profits to be had?”
“Could be, could well be.” The tone turned wheedling. “You’ll remember your old mates if something comes up?”
“Always good to stay on your right side,” Tucker replied. “You find us something, part of the proceeds will certainly find its way to your pocket.”
“That’s my Tuck,” Happy said, suddenly eager. “You know where the north pit used to be? Sure you do, that was part of your old bailiwick. Been closed down, ran dry as a miner’s graveyard close on five years back. It’s our second landing field now.”
“A second field,” Tucker mused. “Things must be booming.”
The old voice cackled. “You won’t recognize the place, Tuck. See you when you’ve grounded.”
Tucker spoke to the communications officer. “Make sure the off-riders caught all that.”
“Off-riders, I like it.” Guns’ voice crackled over the intercom speaker. “You came through loud and clear, Tuck. We’ll be following you in.”
“Right you are.” Tucker handed back the microphone, and as he did the jollity slid from his features. He turned to face the silent transport. “You’ve all heard what we’re up against here, and what our story is. Stick to it. Anybody asks where you’re from or where you’re headed, tell them to see me. Keep a sharp eye, a tight lip, and trust only your mates.” He cast a solemn gaze over the group, then added a final warning, “Folks in these parts have the habit of staying loyal only so long as nobody else offers them more.”<
br />
Chapter Four
Wander stood alone in the floating station’s corner as they descended into Citadel’s great cavern. No matter how often he made this journey, he had never grown accustomed to the sight. The underground hall contained the mind generators, which used the planet’s core as their energy source. Through these, Sensitives scanned the Imperium’s vast reaches, a secret overview of the entire galactic regime. Wander stood by the railing, looking out to where the colossal chamber’s edges were lost in haze and shadow.
As he stood, he paid careful attention to what was being said by the others going on watch with him. Wander had learned never to show how much he knew or what he found of interest. And their present discussion was fascinating indeed.
“They searched the mining ship Avenger from stem to stern,” the senior monitor was saying. “And they did not find a thing. Nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary. It was just as the authorities back on Avanti had declared on the manifest—a brand-new gas planet mining vessel, outbound for Yalla.”
Avenger was the name of Consuela’s ship. Ever since the day Wander had received Consuela’s message of hope and promise, saying she was coming to rescue him from his fiery prison, the Hegemony-wide monitoring station on this planet called Citadel had known constant commotion. Watches had been doubled, with little reason given. Urgent and confusing orders had been received from Imperial Command, only to be countermanded hours later. The diplomat was seen raging in the halls, shouting at the guard sergeant responsible for the contingent of Imperial dragoons.
Rumors abounded. One said the Hegemony was being invaded by outworld forces. Another contended that pirates had been detected, proving the accusations of numerous planets. Yet another suggested that a strange new weapon had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, attacked an Imperial vessel, taken it prisoner, and vanished without a trace. Such hearsay flashed and sped through the stone corridors, only to wither and fade when no confirmation was received. In truth, the monitors knew nothing at all.
Wander had learned that the monitors longed after information from the outside. They remained bound to their work and their station, thrilled by the incredible power of Citadel’s mind-amps. Yet they spent long hours of every watch listening in on communication between Hegemony pilots, garnering every last shred of Imperial gossip.
The practice was officially frowned on, but in truth no notice was taken. To have restricted the custom would have resulted in a riot. Though only a handful of people, including the emperor himself, knew of the Citadel’s existence, senior pilots were continually calling upon the monitors’ services. Supposedly, the monitors were simply attached to Imperial Command, a vast space-bound organization that contained the emperor’s official residence.
The monitors searched the far reaches of space, plotted unknown courses to newly discovered worlds, checked for dangers and possible attackers, watched over the turbulent outworlds. In return for their services, the monitors demanded nothing but a continual flow of news and gossip.
To have their news suddenly cut off, to be unable to determine what was happening, had every monitor on Citadel in absolute turmoil.
Digs sidled up to Wander. “Have you—”
Wander stopped him with an upraised hand. Although his talents had brought him to the attention of Citadel’s three senior monitors, and his place was now much more secure, Digs remained his only friend. Digs understood the gesture. Realizing that Wander wanted to hear what was being said, he turned and faced out over the vast cavern beside his friend.
One of the monitors behind him demanded, “So they still do not know what was behind the attack?”
“We still do not know,” the senior monitor responsible for their watch replied, “if there has truly been an attack at all.”
Wander kept his face turned resolutely toward the distance. The cavern’s light was supplied by the transparent power line that ran through both the floor and the distant ceiling. They shimmered like brilliant veins. He struggled to keep his expression bland and listened intently.
“But the message from Imperial Command,” another protested. “I heard it myself. They declared that an outstation had come under sudden attack, and that we were to monitor—”
“A message that was instantly countermanded,” the senior monitor reminded him. “And a message for which there is now no record whatsoever. I know. I have checked. Twice.”
There were three such floating stations interspersed throughout the great cavern. Yet since the disquiet began, all the monitors had begun gathering at the beginning and end of each watch to travel upon the central station with the senior monitor. This meant a very long walk for the lesser monitors and scouts such as Wander, as their stations were farther out toward the periphery, but he did not mind. It was vital that he hear and learn all he could. Especially when the talk was as today’s.
“It is outrageous that we can be held to double watch-time with no explanation of what it is we are supposed to be searching out,” complained another monitor.
“You are to search out anything unusual,” the senior monitor answered. He attempted to be stern, but the fatigue in his voice drained his words of strength. “Anything at all.”
“That is nonsense, and you know it as well as I,” one of the monitors complained. “Forty thousand parsecs, more than seven hundred systems, not to mention the outworlds, and nothing specific to guide our search. I have a good mind to complain to the diplomat.”
“You would be well advised to stay as far from the diplomat as you possibly can,” the senior monitor replied dryly.
There was a moment’s silence, then a quieter voice asked, “Any word on what’s causing the ruckus between the diplomat and the dragoons?”
The senior monitor sighed, and his answer carried a resigned weariness. “The dragoons are against leaving Citadel, and I must say with all this confusion I agree. But the diplomat has this girl, this young scout, so firmly fixed in his mind that he has overridden the guard sergeant’s strongest protests. Protests which I must say I agree with, though you never heard those words from me. How a young, untrained scout stranded on Avanti could possibly be a threat to the Hegemony is beyond me.”
Wander’s grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles turned white. They were talking about Consuela.
“In any case,” the senior monitor continued, “protest or no, the dragoons are ordered to Avanti. They are to ferret out this scout and bring her back here.”
“And us?”
“We shall simply have to trust in our own monitoring skills, and in the Citadel’s mystery.” The station touched down with a gentle thud. “And now, to your stations.”
Wander and Digs were starting down toward their secondary amp when the senior monitor called them back. He inspected them with tired eyes. “We are stretched to the limit. I hereby raise you to full watch status.”
Digs and Wander exchanged startled glances, then chimed in together, “Thank you, Senior Monitor.”
“Thank me when this is over. For the time being, you are assigned to, let me see . . .” He raised the keypad attached to his belt, read for a moment, then decided. “The seventh quadrant, yes, we’ve left that sector unattended for nine watches now. You understand the drill?”
“Report anything unusual,” Digs repeated. “We understand.”
He managed a weary smile. “It is admirable to see the eagerness of youth. This will look good on your records. Now to work, and good hunting.”
As they hastened down the corridor between the two main amps, Digs hissed, “Freedom at last. You can’t imagine—”
“I have to get a message to Avanti,” Wander whispered.
Digs gave him a look of total alarm. “You can’t be serious.”
“I have to.”
Digs slowed, stopped, inspected his friend. “It has something to do with our escape?”
The idea hit Wander with the strength of a thunderbolt. Instantly he knew the answer was a definite “Yes.”
“Then I suppose we have to do it,” Digs said, resigned. “But fast.”
To either side of their passageway towered the great mind-amps. Their dark surface was translucent. Within their depths sparkled and flowed the power drawn from the planet’s core. Usually Wander found their patterns mesmerizing. But not today.
“You two certainly took your time arriving!” The monitor stripped off his headset and pushed himself from the seat. “It is outrageous, scouts forcing a monitor coming off double-watch to hang about! The senior monitor will hear about this, mark my words!”
“It was the senior monitor who held us up,” Digs replied, trying for quiet submission, but unable to keep his pride from getting in the way. “We’ve been assigned to stand full watch.”
The monitor was so disconcerted he could not hold on to his anger. He glanced at Wander and protested, “But this scout’s not been here long enough to learn his way around.”
“I guess the senior monitor thinks we can handle it,” Digs said loftily. He waited as the monitor gathered his things and left muttering. When they were alone, his nervousness returned. He whispered, “You really have to try this?”
“Right now,” Wander replied firmly.
“All right, then, this is what we’ll do.” Digs bolted for the central station. “I’ll power up the amp and take my own sweet time hooking in. I’ve got to do the paper work for the new shift, that sort of thing. You contact Avanti, then immediately head for the seventh quadrant, got it?”
“I won’t stay an instant longer than necessary,” Wander agreed, seating himself and fitting on the headset.
“If anyone catches wind of what you’ve done, we’ll say you started off on your own and used Avanti to position yourself.” Grimly Digs shook his head. “Which they’ll believe for about a half a millisecond.”
“Thank you,” Wander said quietly, fitting on his headset. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Here goes, then.” Digs hit the power switch, and as he receded into the temporal distance, hissed, “Remember, in and out fast.”
With that first thrust of power, Wander sped outward, coming faster into focus than ever before. His concentration was made diamond-sharp by urgent need. He rode the expanding force as if it were a great ocean wave, although it was normally not until the power expansion was completed that monitors began their own outward reach.
The Dream Voyagers Page 28
