Eternity's End

by Jeffrey Carver

  At least it wasn't a cell. They'd put him in a small room with a bunk, granting him some privacy and a com-console linked to the center's library, but few amenities beyond that. The primary amenity it lacked was freedom. He spent the first few days exercising until he ached, trying to regain muscle tone after the long journey cooped in the scout ship. The guards looked on, bemused, as he cycled the exercise machines over and over through their full range of movement: stretches, lifts, crunches, steps... until he was puffing with exhaustion. When he wasn't working out, he was mostly lost in grim thought, worrying about Maris, and trying to understand how an escape from the pirates of Golen Space could have brought him to this.

  How could he possibly be accused of trying to give Ciudad de los Angeles—"City of the Angels"—into the hands of the pirates, even if he had made an error in judgment while rigging? How could he have known that Golen Space raiders were hiding behind the phantom ship, waiting to strike? He hadn't even been in command. Captain Hyutu was the one who'd given the order to approach Impris.

  And yet, he found himself almost beginning to doubt his own actions. Many had died; and many more had endured, and continued to endure, captivity among the Golen Space pirates. Few if any would escape as Legroeder had. He could only hope, forlornly, that those remaining behind would not suffer reprisals because of his escape.

  By the end of his third day of confinement, there was still no word on the beginning of his hearing. Kalm-Lieu was gone, and Legroeder had done nothing about finding new legal assistance. He did spend some time on the com-console, running searches through the RiggerGuild finder service to see if any of his old rigger friends happened to be on Faber Eridani. The closest he found was a stopover six months ago by a rigger he'd known casually ten years before. It didn't look as though he would find help from any friends here.

  Faber Eridani! he thought. Why'd I have to pick Faber Eridani? But really, where else could he have gone?

  All this mulling was getting him nowhere. He dumped his cup of cold coffee into the sink and returned to sit at the tiny desk beside his bed. He stared at the seascape holo on the wall, a painting of a ship in a storm, and thought, Ghost ship. It wasn't a damn ghost. But who will believe me? Who—?

  * * *

  "Renwald Legroeder!" A voice outside in the hall.

  Legroeder sat up, blinking. What the hell time was it? Morning... he didn't even remember getting into bed, much less going to sleep.

  "Rigger Legroeder!" repeated the voice, closer now.

  Legroeder stared at the locked door. "Yeah! What is it?"

  The door clicked and opened. Vinnie, the tall, skinny guard, stepped in. He was half human and half some kind of Trakon hybrid, built like a rail with bulging hips and shoulders. A weird-looking alien guard dog stood at his side, rumbling from the back of its throat. The guard claimed it was just a purr, but Legroeder had never wanted to test the claim. Vinnie grinned. "Wake you up?"

  Legroeder shrugged.

  Vinnie chuckled, tugging at a strand of cordlike hair. "An easy life, eh—sleeping in whenever you want? Well, it's coming to an end. Gather up your things. You're leaving."

  "Leaving?" Legroeder struggled to his feet. "Why, are they transferring me somewhere?"

  Vinnie's laugh sounded like a twang. "The hex, no. You're free on bail."

  "Bail? I haven't posted any bail."

  "Someone did it for you."

  Legroeder stared at him, uncomprehending.

  "What's the matter? I thought you'd be happy as a pig in the dew."

  "I am happy. Don't I look happy? Who was it?"

  The guard unclipped a compad from his breast pocket and consulted it. "Says here the name's Harriet Mahoney. Friend of yours?"

  "Never heard of her." Legroeder blinked in bewilderment. "Who is she?" His mind raced through possibilities and came up blank. Could it have been some forgotten affair, from years ago? Ridiculous. He'd only been on this planet a few times, and certainly had never had an affair here.

  Vinnie seemed to read his thoughts, and winked. "Well, she's a real looker, if you ask me."

  Legroeder frowned, then shrugged. Out was out, so what did he care? He grabbed the duffel bag a kind soul at the Guild had given him, and began to pack. It didn't take long.

  "Ready?"

  Legroeder shouldered the bag, stepped carefully around the guard dog, and nodded.

  "Let's go."

  * * *

  As Legroeder was being processed out through the Spacing Authority lobby, he peered around for anyone he might recognize. It wasn't until he had passed through the security barriers and filled out six or seven forms without reading them that he heard the name Mahoney again, and turned to see who was attached to it. He followed Vinnie into a small room off to one side of the lobby. An older woman rose from a plastic chair to greet him. Her face, lined with years, was slightly reddish as though sunburned, and her hair was mostly silver, with streaks of black. She wore tastefully designed chrome-rimmed glasses. She was old enough to be his grandmother. Legroeder glanced at Vinnie, who winked. A real looker. But she moved with an energy that Legroeder did not associate with older women. "Renwald Legroeder?" She extended a hand. "I'm Mrs. Harriet Mahoney. I've arranged for your release."

  Legroeder shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you. And—thanks, I guess. Will you think I'm ungrateful if I ask, Who are you?"

  She smiled. "I may be your only friend at the moment. If you would consent to join me for breakfast, I'd be happy to explain. I've been over your release forms, and they're all in order."

  Legroeder stared at her. "Are you a lawyer or something?"

  Mahoney adjusted her glasses. "That is correct. It's my understanding that you need a lawyer. Yes?"

  "Well—"

  "I've posted your bond, and you're free to leave. You're prohibited from leaving the planet, however, pending your hearing with the Spacing Authority. Is that satisfactory to you?" She peered intently over the tops of her glasses.

  Legroeder shrugged. "Do I have any choice?"

  Mrs. Mahoney's eyes twinkled. "None that I can see. Shall we get out of here and have breakfast?"

  Legroeder pursed his lips. "Can I visit a friend in the hospital first?"

  * * *

  He gazed down at Maris for a long time. She lay motionless in the hydro-bed, the scars on her face and neck not looking much better under the clear bandages than they had when he'd first brought her in. But it wasn't the scars that bothered him; it was the stillness. Whatever had most damaged her was invisible. According to the doctors, her basic physiological signs were strong; but with the raider implants controlling certain basic cortical functions, they couldn't predict when—or if—she'd return to consciousness. "We just don't have much experience with these augmentation devices," one of the doctors said. "It's hooked so deeply into her autonomic nervous system that we don't dare meddle with it—not without knowing more. But if there's no activity in a week or so, we'll try some cortical stimulation and see what happens."

  Legroeder touched Maris's forearm. Fellow prisoner. Comrade in arms. He knew little about her life before her capture by the pirates. She was taken from a ship he didn't know the name of. They'd served together a few times on raider missions. But really... it was those two or three minutes on the maintenance dock, when they'd made the decision to trust each other, that had bound them together. He gripped her limp hand and leaned close to her ear. "You did well, Maris. We're out. We're away from the pirates. You'll be free, just as soon as you pull yourself out of this. Just one more escape." He hesitated. "I have to go and... do some things. Try to clear up a mess. I'll be back... as soon as I can."

  He straightened with a sigh. Rejoining Harriet Mahoney in the hallway, he walked out of the hospital, into the late morning sun.

  * * *

  Harriet turned out to have a good knowledge of coffee shops in the area, and they settled on one that featured a holosurround of a desert, complete with spike bushes, umbrella trees, and a prolifer
ation of desert flowers. A spring ran past their table—real rock and real water—and for the first time in years, Legroeder had the feeling that if he stayed in this place long enough, he might conceivably begin to relax. Or he might, if he weren't bristling with questions. He held most of them long enough to wolf a plate of waffles and drink a mug of—not just real coffee, but good coffee. He had forgotten what the aroma of good coffee was like, filling the air around his head.

  Finally he said, "Mrs. Mahoney—or should I call you—?"

  "Harriet," she said, resting her teacup in its saucer. "Please. I hate formal names. They make me feel old."

  "All right. Harriet. Is there a Mr. Mahoney?"

  "There was. He passed away almost twenty years ago."

  "I'm sorry."

  A smile twitched at her lips. "Don't be. I think he was glad to get away from me. I was a hard person to live with, back then. Probably still am." She chuckled. "And tell me, how do you prefer to be addressed, Rigger Renwald Legroeder?"

  "No 'Rigger' anymore, it looks like." He grunted, feeling a surge of anger. "Just Legroeder."

  "Then Renwald is your surname?"

  He shook his head. "Legroeder is just what people have called me since I was about five. My friends, I mean."

  "Very well, then—Legroeder. You'd like to know why I bailed you out." Harriet reached up to her right ear, as though to adjust her earring. A holo a dozen centimeters high sprang up on the table between them. It was a boy, six or seven years old, sitting on a lawn with a pet Althasian minibear. The boy was smiling and waving at the camera. "Have you ever seen this young man?" Harriet asked, and for the first time since they had met, Legroeder heard a tremor in her voice.

  Legroeder bent to study the image. "Should I have?" He looked up at Harriet. "He looks a little like you. A relative?"

  "My grandson," she said. "My only grandson. He was a passenger on the Ciudad de los Angeles when she was lost." Her voice caught. "When you were attacked by the pirates."

  Legroeder's throat tightened as Harriet gazed somberly at the holo. "His parents were separated, you know. His father—my son—was killed in a building collapse here in Elmira. Bobby was on his way to join his mother on Thrice Varinorum. On the L.A." Harriet touched her earring again, and the image disappeared. "For years, we didn't know anything, except that the ship had failed to arrive, and was presumed lost."

  Legroeder said nothing.

  "Until two years ago, when we first heard that the L.A. had been taken captive... by the gentlemen pirates of Golen Space."

  Legroeder laughed hollowly. "Gentlemen?"

  Harriet reached for her teacup, but her hand started shaking, and she pulled it back. "By the murdering, cutthroat bastard pirates of Golen Space," she whispered.

  Legroeder closed his eyes, willing the memories away.

  "I'm sorry," Harriet said. "You suffered, too. I can see it in your eyes. Are you sure you never saw Bobby? You have no idea what might have happened to him?"

  Legroeder shook his head. "I never really saw the passengers, even during the flight. And after we were taken prisoner, they split most of us up. I don't even know what happened to most of my crewmates. I just never saw them again."

  Harriet's gaze narrowed. For some reason he suddenly felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He squinted past her, across the broiling desert that landscaped the coffeehouse. "Not even Jakus Bark?" she asked.

  "Jakus?" Legroeder started at the name, and blinked down at the table, and a holo of Jakus Bark, the keel rigger who'd been in the net with him at the time of the pirate attack. But in this picture, he looked... older. "Where did you get this picture?" Legroeder demanded.

  "I'll tell you in a moment. May I ask, when did you last see Rigger Bark?"

  "Well, I—" Legroeder's voice caught, as he remembered being marched off the bridge of the L.A. with the other riggers. Jakus had been visibly shaking with fear; he'd looked even more scared than Legroeder was. Legroeder cleared his throat. "We were both pulled off the L.A., onto the raider ship. But we were taken into separate holds."

  "Did you see him again?"

  "Just once. A few weeks later, I guess. At the raider outpost. We'd been going through nonstop indoctrination, telling us if we wanted to live we had better learn to cooperate." Legroeder swallowed, feeling the familiar pain. "In the case of the riggers, that meant flying their ships for them." He struggled to put words to the memory. "Jakus—that one time I saw him—I got the feeling he'd adapted more than most. I was still pretty resistant—not outwardly, but in here." He tapped his chest. "But Jakus... wasn't. He didn't seem as angry as the rest of us. After that, I never saw him again."

  "Would it surprise you to learn," Harriet asked, rotating the image to better display Jakus's face, "that he's here on Faber Eridani?"

  "Here?" Legroeder was stunned.

  "Right here in Elmira, in fact. He's been here for two years. I talked to him not long after he returned."

  "But—" Legroeder stammered "—they said at the inquest that no one else from the L.A. had returned. How could they—don't they know he's here?"

  "They not only know," said Harriet, "but it was his testimony, in large part, that led to their decision against you."

  Legroeder stared at her in bewilderment. "But that's not—I didn't hear anything about any testimony—"

  "No. You didn't," said Harriet. "And isn't that interesting—especially given the damaging nature of his testimony?"

  Legroeder opened his mouth again. "What damaging testimony?"

  "I can show it to you later, if you like. The fact that they hid it from you is something we can use in your defense. I assume the testimony will be brought into an actual trial. But in this preliminary inquest, they didn't need it; all they wanted was to deny you the support of the RiggerGuild. But someone pretty high up must be scared about something. Or at the very least, dismayed by your sudden arrival here. Dismayed enough to use hidden testimony against you, apparently in hopes of shutting you away forever. Why do you suppose they would do that?"

  "I don't know. Why?"

  Harriet sighed, frowning. "That's what we have to find out. I think there's a lot more to this than meets the eye. But right now, all I have is suspicions." She studied Legroeder for a moment. "It wasn't easy to get you freed on bail, you know. I think the only reason they set bail for you was that they weren't expecting someone like me to come along and help you." She pressed her fingertips together in concentration. "You know, if you're convicted of setting up the L.A. for capture, you could be mindwiped, or locked away for life."

  Legroeder tightened his lips, but said nothing.

  "I'm sorry—you didn't need to hear that." Harriet attempted a smile. "So, Rigger Legroeder... would you like me to represent you?"

  "Well, I don't have any m—"

  "There's no fee up front, just a percentage if we ever go for damages and collect anything. We probably won't. I'm not in this for the money."

  Legroeder was having trouble focusing; his head was filled with questions. "Did Kalm-Lieu bring you in on this? Are you a good lawyer?"

  Harriet grinned. "Does it matter? I'm the only one you've got. But yes, I think I'm a pretty good lawyer. And no, Kalm-Lieu didn't bring me in—though I think he was relieved that I stepped in." Her grin vanished, and she looked deadly serious. "When I spoke with Kalm-Lieu, he seemed—scared, is the only word I can think of. Though he tried to hide it, I'm sure he's glad to be off the case."

  Scared? Frustrated, Legroeder would have thought. Angry. But why scared? "Why are you doing this? If it scared Kalm-Lieu?"

  Harriet steepled her fingers. "I've been following your case with great interest—along with everything else I can find that's related to the Ciudad de los Angeles. As I said—there's a lot going on here beyond procedural irregularities—but I'm just beginning to put together what it is. I'm hoping we can help each other find out, and get you exonerated."

  "But why? Why are you helping me?"

  "Because s
omehow there's a connection between what's happened to you and what happened to Bobby," she said softly. "And one way or another, I am going to find out what it is."

  Impossible. Bobby's in Golen Space. He's gone, Legroeder thought, shutting his eyes. He took a deep breath. "What chance is there of learning anything about your grandson? Realistically."

  "Maybe no chance. Maybe it's hopeless. Maybe I'm just a crazy old lady, and I wouldn't blame you if you thought so. But I want to know if Bobby is alive or dead. I want to know what happened." For a moment, she seemed surprised by her own vehemence. Then she poured some tea from the insulated pot into her cup. "And I want to make sure everyone else knows, too. Would you like some more coffee?"

  Legroeder's head was spinning. He felt as if a real sun were beating down on his head, here in this holodesert in the midst of the cafe; he could feel the heat like the blast of an oven. "Yes, sure," he muttered. "More coffee would be wonderful...."

  Chapter 4

  Comrade in Arms

  The recording of the testimony was a bit muddy from imperfect decryption. Access to it had been restricted by the RiggerGuild office, and two years ago Harriet had paid a private investigator to snag an illicit copy off the datagrid. According to the PI, the copy he'd intercepted was being transmitted to a location known to be a datastop for an extremist political group called Centrist Strength. What Centrist Strength had to do with a RiggerGuild inquest on a five-year-old lost ship, the PI had been unable to say. Centrist Strength was new to Legroeder. According to Harriet, it was a group headquartered here on Faber Eridani, but active on a few other worlds as well, which was known for an almost fanatical advocacy of new human expansion into the galaxy. Their philosophy was laden with heavy overtones of what they called "Destiny Manifest"—a belief that the stars, all of them, were destined for human conquest and habitation. Though lip service was paid in their pronouncements to cooperation with other species, the overall tenor of their activities seemed to be one of a human supremacist movement.