“It is connected to a new ship gun. That emitter works on a similar principle as the Innoo Flaam blaster. I took the liberty of adding it to our craft. We now possess the means to take out a Coalition cruiser at extremely short range.”
“Great,” Tanner said. “Can this blaster take out a battleship?”
“The weapon is good, but it’s not that good.” Acton checked the slate. “You have the means, Captain. Do you have the will?”
Tanner took a deep breath before activating the raider’s new blaster. With a tap, he fired.
A red bolt of raw energy struck the hangar bay bulkhead, vaporizing it. Open space beckoned, even as a hurricane-force wind blew out of the gaping hole.
“Hang on,” Tanner shouted. “Here we go.”
-35-
Interrogator Prime Clack Urbis approached the conference chamber hatch. He was tall and lean with stooped shoulders. He had wisps of hair on an otherwise bald dome and had a hooked nose with eagle-like eyes.
Clack wore the black uniform of Coalition Special Intelligence with the atom sign on his shoulder tabs indicating that he was an interrogator prime.
He had been on the Coalition cruiser Bela Kun in the Nostradamus System. He had spoken to Centurion Tanner, and he had witnessed the Dark Star escaping from them. The vessel had come to the Petrus System as he’d foreseen, although there were others who hadn’t believed him.
Now, Clack and the Bela Kun had joined the Expeditionary Fleet. It was not a conquering fleet such as had annihilated the Remus AirSpace Service. No. This was a fast fleet meant to chase a dream, a will-o-wisp that had long eluded Special Intelligence. This fleet lacked battleships or even battle cruisers. The biggest warship was the Cruiser Bela Kun.
In the fleet were four cruisers, seven destroyers, nine escort vessels and eleven raiders similar to the Remus Gladius-class raider. It wasn’t a necessarily intimidating fleet. Several battleships could easily scare it off. But the Petrus System did not possess battleships or even battle cruisers. Likely, the paradisiacal scoundrels didn’t even have cruisers or destroyers. They did have the asteroid belt and strongpoints with laser turrets. Coalition Special Intelligence knew that much.
The marines on duty before the conference chamber hatch stood at attention. Clack Urbis knew better than to try to barge past them. He was above such petty displays, especially as the marines might well attempt to bar his path. That would be a loss of face. Special Intelligence interrogators deplored any loss of face.
Instead, Clack stood before the two marines, waiting.
At last, one of the marines cocked his head. The earpiece in his ear glowed red. The hatch slid open, and the marine nodded to Clack.
The Special Intelligence interrogator strode through, entering a large conference chamber. Two commodores sat on the left side of the table. The admiral was at the head of the table. Each commodore was a large man with excessive braid on his uniform. The admiral was different.
Admiral Sensei May was taller and leaner than the interrogator prime. She had gaunt features and a plain uniform. The only wrinkles were around her eyes. They were the only concession to her extended life treatment.
“Ah, Interrogator Prime,” she said, “please, come sit down.”
Clack Urbis knew a moment of uncertainty. He was a hard man who had done many foul deeds. He had listened to many people blubber for mercy, telling all their secrets lest they feel more pain. He believed that he could break anyone. But that was no mean feat. Many others could do the same. In his humble opinion, he also possessed one of the keenest minds in the Coalition. Another of those minds was here before him, Sensei May, the Chairman’s daughter.
In a slow gait, Clack moved to the indicated chair. He sat quietly, ignoring the commodores who watched his every move.
The Chairman’s daughter regarded him. “You had the Remus ship in your sights, Interrogator. Yet, you lost the ship in the Nostradamus System.”
“We trailed it here, Admiral.”
“Have we?”
Clack did not allow himself to frown or become agitated. He knew the Golden Path, the Stalin mind trick that allowed him to purge all emotions from his senses. It left dark rationality in its place, a razor intellect.
“So,” the admiral said. “They speak truthfully about you, Interrogator. You do not fear me.”
“I respect you, Admiral.”
“I would rather have your fear.”
Clack dipped his head. “I understand. Fear is a great motivator. Yet…I will work diligently in your service, Admiral.”
“In my service?” she asked.
“As I serve the Party and the Chairman,” Clack said in his monotone.
The admiral studied him in silence. She was a grim figure, often called the Chairman’s Hatchet, cutting out the dead wood in order to protect social unity purity.
“Do you know what these so-called notables have dared to tell me?” she asked Clack.
“I do not.”
“Dark Star has escaped from the hideaway,” she said. “They have flown the star system. What is even more interesting is that my sensor officers have confirmed the information.”
“That’s impossible. There hasn’t been enough time for them to enter hyperspace.”
The admiral’s features tightened, increasing her ugliness. “Do you dare to question me?”
“No,” Clack said. “I rescind my words.”
“You cannot, as I have recorded them.”
“Ah. Of course. Then yes, I did say—”
“Never mind,” she snapped. “I don’t care about that. I want the Dark Star. I want the crew and I want to know where they’re going.”
“Admiral, despite your sensor officers, I believe the Remus raider is still in the Petrus System.”
“Yet my officers have scanned for hours since the message. No one has spotted anything.”
“Still, I believe the raider is in the system.”
“What do I care what you believe? You failed in the Nostradamus System, and now, your vaunted destroyer that you’d stationed here has proven tardy in its news.”
Clack put his slender hands on the table. “May I speak frankly, Admiral?”
She glanced at the beefy commodores before regarding him. “Do you think your Special Intelligence affiliation will protect you from my wrath?”
“I am uncertain regarding that.”
Her mouth opened in surprise. “Do you think I enjoy those who say whatever thought enters their head?”
“I do not.”
“Do you think you are special?”
“Yes,” he said.
A slow and terrible grin slid onto her face. “Indeed, this is news. You are so special that I would gain from listening, even heeding your views?”
“Yes.”
“Ah…” she said. “You are brave, and thus, I should be impressed with you, is that it?”
“No.”
“What then?” she snapped. “I grow tired of these word games. I grow tired of your sly glances and emotionless manner. You are dull, Interrogator Prime. I abhor dullness in any form.”
“I believe we are close to a truth, Admiral. I believe the hideaway is critical to that end.”
“How?” she asked. “Once again, we have lost the Dark Star.”
“Merely for the moment,” Clack said in his monotone.
“I do not understand your trite statement.”
“Admiral, this is the perfect instance to employ my skills. I will go to the hideaway, trace the prey’s path and learn his objectives. He has taken a Shand with him.”
“Why do you state the obvious? If the raider lacked a Shand, I would not be here. What do we care about the Dark Star except that it carries one of the ancient scourges?”
Clack nodded patiently.
“And another thing,” the admiral said. “How do you think you’re going to the hideaway? It could cost half my fleet to fight my way in.”
“It might well cost all the fleet,” Clack c
orrected.
The admiral studied him balefully.
“Thus, we should deal with them,” Clack said. “We can besiege the asteroid belt easily enough. I do not believe the notables possess enough ships in common to be able to come out and challenge us.”
“Challenge me,” the admiral said.
Clack inclined his head.
“Well?” she demanded. “You still haven’t explained yourself.”
“Threaten or cajole them,” he said. “Either way, force them to accept a raider into the hideaway. I will join the vessel with a few marines. Once at the hideaway, I will retrace our prey’s steps—”
“You are willing to go into the hideaway alone?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You are an Interrogator Prime. I cannot allow you to fall into enemy hands, even into criminal hands. You know too many State secrets.”
Here it was—the great gamble. Would she see through his offer, though? It might mean an ugly death if she did so.
“Rig me with an explosive,” Clack suggested emotionlessly.
The admiral’s eyes narrowed as she sucked in her breath. “What you’re suggesting goes against a direct dictate of Chairman Malakind. If I agreed to it—it might mean my head.”
Clack said nothing.
“You are a deviant to suggest such an idea,” she said.
“We chase a Shand. Special Intelligence knows two things about them. One, they are filled with ancient secrets. Those secrets can build empires or overturn them. Two, Shands are extraordinarily difficult to run to ground and capture. To do so we might have to bend or even break a rule or two.”
“Oh, that is bold, very bold, Interrogator Prime. Perhaps you are not dull, after all. You are a veritable…” The admiral sat back, studying him through half-lidded eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “My own people will rig you with the cortex bomb. Or do you want to withdraw your suggestion now?”
“No. I am ready to serve social unity no matter the cost.”
“Oh, that is well said, well said, Interrogator. First, however, I will have to haggle with these parasites. If they agree to my terms, you will go to this asteroid fortress. If they decline…well, for your sake, let us hope they do not decline.”
***
The Coalition fleet accelerated for the asteroid belt. As the Coalition cruisers, destroyers, escorts ships and raiders bored in, the admiral spoke via screen to Notable Magnus Shelly.
The talk took time, as each transmission traveled at light speed. A day passed. The fleet no longer accelerated, but coasted at its present velocity for the belt.
The talks resumed. The admiral felt the notable had become nervous. Finally, the Coalition fleet began to decelerate. They made the appearance of being willing to enter the asteroid belt at a crawl and battle their way all the way in.
Finally, the admiral summoned Interrogator Prime Clack Urbis to the conference chamber.
The same two commodores were there at the exact same locations. They watched Clack with the same hostility.
The Special Intelligence interrogator no longer believed that was their true rank. They were guards pure and simple. They might even be the ones who would torture him if it came to that.
“The notables have agreed,” the admiral said. “You will leave in two hours. Are you still willing?”
“I am, Admiral.”
“The cortex bomb has already been affixed?”
Clack might have smiled glumly if he’d allowed himself emotions. He did not. Thus, he merely nodded. His head still ached where they’d done the drilling.
“Do you have any last words?” the admiral asked.
He did not, so he said nothing.
“You are a cool operator,” the admiral said. “Perhaps you will succeed. I give you three days, no more.”
He stared at her.
“If the Remus people truly have a Shand, we cannot allow them anymore headway than that.”
Clack silently disagreed, but she was the Chairman’s daughter, so he kept his mouth shut. If she had been a mere admiral—well, she wasn’t.
“Three days,” he said. “It will be as you say.”
***
The Interrogator Prime reached the hideaway with very little time to spare. He knew the bomb in his brain was on a timer. He had to get back to the flagship before the last tick. Otherwise, his brains would splatter the walls of whatever room he happened to be in at that moment.
He believed the admiral had blundered. Once he ran out of time—almost out of time so he had to go—he would make up what he had to in order to survive. Clack Urbis wasn’t going to leave his brains in a parasitical pesthole like the hideaway. The trip back through the asteroid belt could give him the time to come up with a good story.
First, though, he would do one of the things he was best at: solving puzzles.
Clack met the Notable Magnus Shelly. He asked her a series of questions and jotted down her answers. He believed she was angry at the Shand. A glance at the damage the raider had made leaving showed the interrogator why she had reason to be.
After the interview, he tracked Lord Acton and this Centurion Tanner’s journey through the asteroid. He studied the weapon shops and tried to figure out where the Shand could have bought the mythical Third Period Innoo Flaam blaster. What a quaint, even preposterous name.
Clack went into several weapons shops. He did not find a small old man with stubby fingers, however, as that weapons shop owner had departed two days ago.
After scouring the trail, he watched videos of the crew. The patrician was pretty. He would like to get his hands on her. He would know what to do before he broke her, oh yes, Clack would know exactly what to do with Ursa Varus.
After he calmed down from his sexual fantasy, he continued to watch the videos and question others. He checked his chrono often. Time was ticking down for him.
The Interrogator Prime learned about the modifications made to the Gladius-class raider. He studied the specs to the nonferrous material patched onto the hull. He spoke to those who had spoken to the crew. He listened, considered and studied star charts.
What interested him most was the sleep chambers put on the raider. Why would the Shand install those onto the tiny vessel?
The conclusion seemed obvious. They were going to make a very long jump.
At last, the Interrogator Prime realized his mission was over. He had to leave, which he did, entering the Coalition raider and wending his way through the dusty asteroid belt. Finally, he reached regular space and accelerated hard. To his dismay, Clack found that the main fleet had accelerated back for hyperspace territory.
He went to the comm officer and demanded she put him through at once to the admiral. That took an entire thirty minutes. Finally, however, the Interrogator Prime spoke to the admiral via screen.
“I have discovered the answer,” Clack said with a slight tremor to his voice.
“Excellent,” the admiral said. “You may tell me at once.”
He cleared his throat as a stir of emotion touched his heart. He did not like the feeling. “Before I speak—”
“Interrogator Prime,” the admiral said in a stern voice. “I order you to tell me. We can worry about your personal problems later. Or are you like the capitalists? Do you worry first about yourself and the state second?”
“I do not,” he whispered. Even though he tried not to do so, Clack had just glanced at his chrono. He had very little time left.
“I am waiting,” the admiral said with a smirk.
“Please,” he heard himself say.
“Please?” she asked. “An Interrogator Prime has said please. Will wonders never cease.”
The admiral was a callous bitch, Clack realized. He found that he hated her, and maybe it showed on his face.
“Oh, settle down,” she told him. “Before you know it, you’ll say something regretful and I’ll have to order you shot. You have three extra days. You’re quite safe.”
Extreme relief was
hed through him. “You swear this is true by…by the Chairman?”
“You wanted me to swear by a deity, didn’t you?” the admiral asked.
“No,” he lied.
The admiral snapped her fingers. “Never mind about that. Where is the raider headed, do you know?”
“There are three possibilities,” he said.
“Name them.”
He did so in order of preference.
“You have made thorough notes of your mission?” she asked.
Clack nodded.
“Splendid,” the admiral said. “Radio those to me and hurry back. I want to study the notes before I speak with you about the journey.”
“Yes, Admiral,” he said, trying for his former emotionless voice.
He wondered if she had lied to him about the extra time. He knew it on good authority that the Chairman’s daughter had a morbid sense of humor. He could not trust her. Could he hold the notes over her as insurance regarding the cortex bomb? Should he tell her she would have the notes the minute the bomb was removed from his skull?
No. He didn’t dare. He would be disobeying a direct order if he failed to send the notes now. Then, she could legally destroy him. He would have to take a dreadful risk.
“I’m waiting, Interrogator,” she said.
Did he detect a hint of mockery in her voice? He was sure he did. With the greatest trepidation, Clack tapped the transmission button. Then he waited, staring at the chrono, wondering just how much longer he really had left to live.
-36-
Tanner fell into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion. His body was thoroughly beat. Perhaps his conscience might have bothered him about flying the Dark Star through the asteroid base, but something about the Innoo Flaam halted that.
The centurion slept with the ancient blaster cradled in his arms as a child might hug a teddy bear. He shifted every few hours, and a groan escaped his pressed together lips from time to time. He dreamed about an eerie land of rusted towers and glowing pits. The dream horizon pulsed with purplish-orange colors. Metallic screeches sounded like soulless bats. In the dream, Tanner crept through the land with the blaster ready and glowing. Something watched. Something waited. It desired his soul, to devour him, to transform him into a murderous thing that hunted humans.
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