Cale grinned. “I’ll bet he did. What I would like you to do is keep track of ship arrivals and departures. I’m mostly interested in unscheduled arrivals, especially tramps. Sheol, you know what I’m looking for, and know better than I do how to spot it. But if there are more killers coming, I’d like to know as soon as possible.”
“I understand, Captain, and I think I know what to look for. But surely the Angeles authorities will be watching as well.” Her voice had a puzzled tone.
“I hope they will be,” Cale replied, “But I don’t trust them to let me know if they see something. With the police mentality, they’re just as likely to follow them until they do something overt – ‘Something overt’ like taking more shots at us!”
“Understood, sir. I will be on guard. Good luck.”
Cale nodded. “Thanks. Now I’d better get back before those cops get curious.” He rolled up his sleeve, attached the needler rig to his right forearm, and lowered the sleeve over it. Now, a mere tensing of his arm muscles in the pattern required to receive the needler would trigger release of the needler into his waiting hand in less than a tenth of a second
He reached into the drawer and removed one of the tiny transceivers. A touch with a stylus activated the adhesive, and he attached it to his head behind his left ear. A quick look in the mirror revealed that the paper-thin, flesh-colored disk was virtually invisible to the casual glance. “Testing, one, two,” he whispered while trying to keep from moving his lips.
“Receiving you loud and clear, Captain,” Tess’s voice sounded slightly muffled in his left ear. “The transceivers have a range of two kilometers, or just over one and one-half miles,” Tess continued.
Cale jerked a nod at his reflection in the mirror, and strode back to greet his escort in the lounge. One of the cops raised a hand. “Sorry, Captain, but I’ll need to keep your weapon until it is properly catalogued.”
Cale raised his right sleeve, removed the needler from the rig, and surrendered it with a forced smile. “Of course, Officer.” He carefully failed to mention the two flash grenades the rig also contained, or the two extra magazines of ammunition. Why complicate things?
Cale and his escort returned to Archuk’s office, where Dee was being fitted out with a small needler similar to his own. Hers would be in a small inside-the-waistband, cross-draw holster; neither as fast nor as concealable as Cale’s, but Dee considered it impressive. The cop handed Cale’s needler to Archuk, who handed it to the tech who had provided Dee’s weapon. The man nodded and left without a word.
Archuk again favored Cale with his broad smile. “It won’t be long, Captain, I promise. Mistress Raum’s weapon is, of course, already catalogued.” Cale was noticing how the Angeles police always referred to weapons as ‘catalogued’, never ‘registered’. He was willing to bet that personal weapons control was a hot subject on Angeles.
His weapon was returned within a few minutes. As he clipped it into place on the arm rig, Cale breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time since landing on Angeles, he felt secure, if not relaxed.
The needler was not Cale’s first choice of close-combat weapon, but blasters just weren’t concealable, and hand lasers were only good for one or two shots. Using a combination of compressed gas and a small linear accelerator, the needler spit out a stream of 2mm steel needles. The needles had little mass, and therefore little penetration, but the stream of projectiles at high velocity could chew a massive wound in soft tissue in seconds. Cale’s ladies’ model held only 750 needles, but Cale was practiced in zeroing in on the soft tissue of the neck and belly. In his hands, it was nearly as deadly as a blaster.
“Are you certain you cannot think of any reason for the pirates to put a price on your heads?” Archuk asked.
Cale shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “But I’m not even from this sector. Aside from Cheetah, I have no other assets anyone would care about. And I can’t imagine a pirate starting a vendetta over a 400-year-old courier ship!”
Archuk frowned. “Nor can I. That’s what bothers me. All right, the S&R ship should be back within a week or so. In the meantime, try not to get yourselves killed.” He waved an obvious dismissal.
The wait went on. Meanwhile, Cale and Dee were growing closer. Cale was enjoying every minute with Dee, so much so that on several occasions he almost forgot his nightly check-in with Tess. For her part, Dee knew it would be very easy for her to fall in love with Cale but she was haunted by the fact that she knew so little about this man except that he was hiding something. What could it be?
Finally, Cale received the call from Archuk. The S&R ship had returned, and he asked them to come to his office.
Archuk was again all smiles as he rose to greet them.
“Captain! Mistress Raum!” He greeted them heartily, “Please sit down; we have much to discuss.”
“Then your ship found the derelict?” Cale asked.
The ever-present smile faded somewhat. “Indeed it did, and I’m delighted to say that the evidence it collected completely substantiates your account. Unfortunately, that’s not all they found.
“As we surmised from the attempt on your life, there were survivors among the pirates. As best we can reconstruct the evidence, the pirate captain was one well known to us, a nasty piece of work named Remson. He’s not one of the most successful pirates, but possibly one of the most vicious. It appears that you killed four of his crew, and injured three more. Once they got the ship airtight, Remson cut the throats of his wounded, and put the rest of his men to trying to get his ship under power. They also turned on their emergency beacon. Pirates often do that in an effort to lure in unsuspecting good Samaritans.
“Unfortunately,” Archuk continued with a grimace, “The ruse worked this time. The delta-class freighter Sarah Lu, under the command of Captain Fen Varken responded to the SOS.”
Cale looked puzzled. “How could you know that? I assume the pirates were long gone.”
Archuk nodded soberly. “So they were. They spaced the entire crew alive, and fled in their seized ship. The reason we know the identity of the ship and her captain is that the frozen body of the captain was found entangled in some of the wreckage of Remson’s ship. There were no signs of violence other than those of decompression. We’ve put out a sector-wide alert for the ship and, of course, Remson.”
Dee had gone white as Archuk spoke. “If we’d gone back . . .” She began.
“It would have been your bodies that were found. Or not, since we would not have been notified to look.” Archuk’s smile was grim this time. “I suspect you owe your Captain an apology, Mistress. By refusing to turn back, he undoubtedly saved your lives.”
The look Dee directed at Cale was full of meaning, though he remained unsure just what the meaning was. Certainly, there was gratitude, but there was also unmistakable suspicion.
“And the men that tried to kill us?” Cale asked hurriedly.
Archuk shrugged. “Neither talked before their executions,” he replied. “But of course we now know that the pirate captain did survive your shootout, and it seems obvious he sent them.”
“In any event,” he continued, “You have been completely exonerated, and I would like to congratulate you on your expertise and courage.”
Cale nodded soberly. “Thank you. Then we are no longer in custody?”
The wide smile was back. “Of course not, of course not. Naturally, you’re both free to go. I hope your stay has not been an uncomfortable one. Oh,” he continued, “Unless you’re leaving in the next 48 hours, I’m afraid you’ll have to remove your ship from the government field and dock at the orbital commercial port.”
Cale smiled courteously. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Our stay has been rather more of a vacation. And everyone here has been most courteous. Now, if that’s all . . .”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Archuk responded in a professional tone. “If there’s anything I can do . . .”
They invited Zant to join them for a celebra
tory dinner
Zant seemed preoccupied. "Tell me, Cale, why did you choose Ilocan, of all places? It's hardly a hub of galactic activity."
Cale grinned. "It certainly isn't. Actually, I have a very close friend whose favorite aunt retired there about fifteen years ago." He shrugged. "He used to talk about her and her vids of Ilocan all the time. It sounds like a really nice place. According to the Stellar Index, it's almost idyllic. Gravity of only .89 standard, thoroughly terraformed but mostly wilderness, almost no heavy industry, only one major city and scattered villages, and only a few million people. Sheol! Last I heard, his aunt had been made President of the place! I'm rather anxious to see if it lives up to its reputation."
Zant frowned. "I'm sorry, Cale, but it won't. Not anymore. There's been a war."
Cale shot straight in his chair. "A war? With whom? How bad? Who won?"
Zant raised a hand to forestall Cale's flood of questions. "I'm sorry, Cale. I knew I remembered hearing about Ilocan recently. It was just shoptalk with a captain I was trying to convince to hire me. He mentioned that he had to leave Ilocan in a hurry, because it was invaded by Santiago. Only a couple of ships full of troops, but they took Homesafe by surprise, and took over the city in a few hours.
He leaned across the table. "Before I came over here this evening, I checked the Worldnet for news of Ilocan. There wasn't much. Santiago is claiming to have 'liberated' Ilocan from its, 'backward, reactionary government', and that their forces were welcomed by the Ilocano people, who had been kept in 'primitive' conditions by their previous rulers.
"It looks like the war itself is over. But reading between the lines, I'd bet there's a serious guerilla war going on. One of the underground newsies here claims to be in contact with an Ilocano 'government in exile'. He claims that the Santies are even having trouble holding onto Homesafe, and that only resupply from space lets them hang on."
He shrugged. "It sounds like plain old propaganda from both sides. There's no telling from the newsies what's really going on there. If you decide to go, be ready for a war zone. At the very least, the Santies are sure to have the jump point picketed."
Chapter 8
Cale didn't answer. He appeared lost in thought for several long minutes of silence at the table. Finally, he turned to Dee. "I'm sorry, Dee. We'll have to postpone your grand tour. I have to go help. I feel a real connection to John's aunt and uncle. In fact, he said they raised him. If there's even a chance they're still alive, I have to go help them."
Dee looked shocked. “What! What is this? You’re trying to shut me out?”
Zant looked from one to the other. “What’s going on with you two? I thought you were a pair . . .” His voice tapered off as Cale shook his head with a reluctant expression. “Okay,” he resumed more briskly, “let’s have it.”
Cale shrugged, his expression morose. “We told you about it. Dee is my passenger. I was to deliver her to a mutually agreeable destination when the pirate attack came up, and we had to detour here. I owe her a ride, and I fully intend to provide it. But I’ve got to go to Ilocan now, and I suspect you might know some things and some people, and maybe some sources I can use. We need to talk, and talk frankly.”
There were unshed tears in Dee’s eyes now. “What is this?” she cried again. “I don’t understand . . .”
Zant rose abruptly. “I think I’d better let you two work this thing out. I’ll be in the bar.” He hurried off.
Dee's face darkened, and her tone turned quietly furious. "So, you think you're going to just leave me stranded like poor Zant, here. I'm supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you get yourself killed?"
Cale flinched. "Now, Dee, that's not fair. I can't take you into a war zone. I don't know what I'll be facing. For all I know I'll be arrested and interned as soon as I get there.
"And even if I do make it safely," he continued, "I'll be a soldier in a guerilla war; running and hiding, sleeping and eating when and where I can. Damn it!" he shout/whispered, "I can't take you into that meatgrinder!"
"Why not?" Dee's voice was cold. "You'd better believe there are women fighting there now."
Cale pounded a fist on the table. "They're not you, damn it! They're frontierswomen. They're used to living rough, butchering their own meals, and killing for food. They're used to hardship and privation."
Dee's anger had only increased, and her voice rose. "Cale Rankin! You know damned well I've had a lot more weapons training than you, and even hand-to-hand combat. Sheol, I'm better qualified than you are to fight a war!" Dee’s tears had overflowed, as had her anger. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Cale took her hand in his. “No! The last thing I want is to lose you. In fact, I’m hoping you’ll wait here on Angeles for me. But I can’t ask you to be involved with this. Some of my ideas, well, they may not be exactly . . .”
“Legal?” she finished for him in a furious tone. “Are you telling me you’re going off to commit a crime? Or crimes?”
He shook his head wildly. “No! No. Well, not really. But it's a damned war! Some of the things we might have to do and some of the people we might have to deal with, well, they wouldn’t be very nice.”
“Nice!” she almost shouted. “Nice! Why you pompous, ego-inflated . . . what do you think I am, anyway? Some oversensitive debutant?”
Cale started to answer, and then paused. Actually, ‘oversensitive debutant’ was not far from the mark. “Look, Dee,” he started in a determinedly reasonable tone. “I know you’re the daughter of a priest. I don’t know much about your morality; but I do know how you reacted to the idea of leaving those pirates behind. From what I’ve seen, your moral standards are pretty high. There's nothing moral about a guerilla war. If some of my ideas work out, even before we go to Ilocan we’re going to have to deal with some rough places and some real lowlifes, and we’re going to have to look and act just as rough and just as low. It could be dangerous for you, and we won’t be able to take care of you or deal with your sensibilities. Please, wait here on Angeles, where you’re safe.” He said this last in almost a pleading tone, as he noted the dangerous glitter in her eyes.
“Bastard!” She hissed. “All this time. All these weeks we’ve been together. All this time I thought you respected me, that you, that you cared for me. And all the time you’ve been thinking I’m some sweet little goody-goody weakling! Who the hell do you think chewed holes in that pirate’s bridge and killed all those people while you were punching neat little holes in their engines?”
She jumped to her feet and grabbed his shirtfront in her fist. “I don't know anyone on Ilocan, but they've been attacked, Captain. Invaded! And my morality that bothers you so much means I’m not going to let some two-bit mystery man keep me from helping them!”
She suddenly realized that everyone in the restaurant was now watching her scene. With massive dignity, she released Cale’s shirt and returned to her seat, patting her lips with her napkin in an exaggeratedly ladylike manner.
Cale was gaping. Finally, he regained control of himself. “Uh, perhaps we should continue this in a more private place?” he suggested meekly.
Dee started to rise, paused, and then settled back into her chair. “No, I don’t think so. I think we’ve danced around this for weeks, now, and it’s time we deal with it.”
“Uh, deal with what?” Cale was afraid he knew.
“With the secret of you, Captain, that’s what. Every time the subject of you, your past, comes up, you change it, or duck it.”
Panic surged in Cale’s chest. “There’s no real secret, Dee,” he began. “I was born on Warden’s World; I’ve knocked around some pretty rough places with some pretty rough people.” He tried a disarming smile. “I guess I’m the kind of man your mother wouldn’t want you to date.”
Dee shook her head, unsmiling. “No. there’s more than that. How do you know so much about pirates? How come you know about fighting a starship? For that matter, how do you come to o
wn your own starship? They’re fabulously expensive. How come you don’t have a trade route all mapped out?”
Cale took a deep breath. How could he lie to Dee? Could he lie to Dee? No, he answered himself. Dee deserved the truth, even though it would mean the end of their budding relationship. “All right,” he began. “I know about pirates because I was one for awhile. But first, I was a slave. I escaped with a bunch of other slaves. We were starving, and hijacked, pirated an ore carrier. We became pirates. Then we found out it was just another kind of slavery – a horrible kind. I witnessed, I did, horrible things, until I could escape. As for how I got Cheetah, I stole her. I ran fast and far, and changed her identity and mine. That aunt I mentioned was mine; but she won't recognize me now. Cheetah's legal now, though, and legally mine. I’m still running. But I hate what they did to me, what they made me, with a depth of hatred I hope you never experience.” He slammed a hand on the table. “I’ll never be that kind of animal again, even if it means being enslaved again.”
He sighed. “And I don’t have a trade route mapped because I’m not a trader. I no longer know what I am.”
He looked at her stunned expression, and all his hope for the future died. Once again, his pirate past had killed a promising love. “Now, get out of here,” he said gruffly. “Zant and I have some plans to make, and they may not be pretty!”
She started to rise again, and then stopped, and settled once more into her seat. “No,” she said simply.
Cale’s eyebrows rose. “No?”
“No,” she repeated. She was regaining control of herself, and her expression firmed. “I can’t even guess what it must be like to be a slave, if even piracy looks like salvation. But I can imagine a slave grasping at any chance to escape that horror.”
Her firm expression became even harder. “But I must know one thing. Did you, personally, ever commit murder?”
The Privateer Page 16
