The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy

by Greta van Der Rol

“Why wouldn’t you land at the University?” Tyne said.

  “There isn’t anywhere, except on the road outside and that’s always busy,” Allysha said. “Besides, that way we can go through the town and check out the other possibilities.”

  “We plan on landing on the cliffs so we can check the town,” Saahren said. “On the understanding that plans must be flexible. Do you have to prepare anything?”

  “Yes. I’ll need to create a letter of authorization from the Chancellor at the University so I can enter wherever I want to carry out maintenance. Do you have a long-range, hand-held tracker?” She looked at Roland.

  “I have, lovely lady.”

  “I’ll need to modify it a little to find Sean. I’ll take over your workshop and get to work.”

  “Certainly,” Roland said. “I’ll take you down.”

  He led her down the walkways to the workshop near the engine room. He sank down onto his

  haunches, searched through a cupboard under one of the benches and pulled out a slim, rectangular

  object about half the length of her forearm.

  “Here’s the tracker.” Roland rose to his feet and handed her the device. “Your friend Grallaz should be able to find whatever else you may need.”

  She looked the tracker over. A screen, sensitive signal collection and recognition; good enough.

  Roland’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I like the way you think, Allysha. Consider that job offer. I can afford to pay you very well. Let’s say a three-month contract? It’ll get you away from Saahren if that’s what you want, and from this ex-husband of yours. What do you say?”

  She looked up into his handsome face, open and charming. He’d been unfailingly polite—to her,

  anyway—had never made any sort of advance. He was well-read, articulate, interesting. It was an

  option; yes, a serious option. “It’s tempting, Marius. Let’s get this business over with and I’ll give the matter serious consideration.”

  His smile lit up his face. “Fantastic. Great. Well… I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  ****

  The beacon lights of Carnessa’s single jump gate gleamed against the starscape behindQueen of Tyrone

  as she decelerated to orbital speed. Allysha stared at the view screen, eager for a first look at home.

  Carnessa hung below, a fragile sphere in the blackness of space. Most of the planet was in daylight but she couldn’t see Ullnish or Shernish. A mass of cloud hung over the continent.

  “Look.” Roland pointed at the view screen. The ptorix warship appeared, four long protuberances like

  tentacles jutting from its bow, as it rounded Carnessa’s mass. “They love weird architecture, don’t they?”

  “It’s not weird from where they stand.” She looked at the technical specifications being displayed on the screen as the warship decreased the distance between them. “Is this a big one? What would it compare

  to in your fleet?”

  Saahren’s voice startled her. “A frigate. But it’s fifty percent as big again as one of ours.” He stood behind Allysha, eyes on the screen.

  “What are those tentacley things?”

  “Highly flexible beam weapons,” he said. “They can point them in any direction.”

  Allysha’s heart rate climbed as the warship approached. Deep shades of violet and purple, overlapping and blending together, covered the ship’s surface. If she hadn’t been so nervous she might have been

  amused. The ptorix even decorated warships.

  “This is Khophiran ShipXentrex. What izz your destination and purpose?” The voice was hissing and

  sibilant, the words delivered in Standard but with a labored ptorix accent.

  Melching’s voice came from the cockpit. “What did it say? The accent’s thick.”

  Allysha translated.

  “Acknowledge,Xentrex . We are proceeding to dock at Carnessa’s space station, carrying technical

  personnel for Shernish University,” Melching said.

  “The warship is dragging our identifiers and scanning,” the IS said.

  She held her breath. This was where they found out if her work on the ship’s ID could withstand a

  probe from a state-of-the-art ptorix military system. Seconds ticked past. Allysha moistened dry lips.

  Melching stirred in her seat. “Let’s hope they don’t board us.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure they don’t grab Admiral Saahren,” Roland said. “Be ready to engage the

  emergency program, Editor.”

  She turned around to look at Saahren, standing in the doorway cold as ice. Nothing seemed to phase

  him.

  At last the voice returned. “Queen of Tyrone,you are clear to dock .”

  Tyne squeezed her shoulder. “As easy as that.”

  She sagged in relief, blowing out a breath of air. The adrenalin was starting to pump. “I know how their sensors work. It wasn’t easy but I’ve done harder things.” Not many, but they didn’t need to know that.

  Necessity had driven her. She had to get to Shernish, had to divert Sean, destroy the virus.

  “I’ve received docking permission at the space station,” Melching announced. “Stay seated while we

  ease in.”

  The space station loomed, a broad cylinder with spokes radiating out around the circumference in six

  staggered circles. Some of the spokes were already occupied, with ships snuggled up against them.

  Allysha noticed that many of the spokes were empty; probably because of the political situation.Queen of Tyrone edged closer.

  “We have you,Queen of Tyrone. Release controls and prepare to dock.”

  Melching sat back as the ship’s IS followed the station controller’s instructions. The station’s grav beam locked on to bring the ship in to its docking station.Queen of Tyrone barely rocked as she was brought alongside. A muffled clunk that echoed through the compartment signaled that the bridge had attached to the outside hull.

  Docking completed, Melching’s first job was to advise the station controllers that the lander was to be deployed. Allysha sat in the engineer’s chair next to Melching as she spoke to a human traffic controller.

  The official frowned, her voice dripping disapproval. “It’s extremely irregular. We’re not encouraging sight-seers and we certainly can’t have landers charging off all over the planet. The situation on the ground is precarious enough.”

  “I realize that,” Melching said. “But this is a computer expert brought in because of a serious problem at the University at Shernish.”

  “I’d have to see authorization.”

  “No problem.” Melching turned to Allysha.

  She sent the woman her letter of authorization and prayed they wouldn’t check.

  The official’s pursed lips twitched as if the document smelled bad. Allysha ran a hand back through her hair. What if they’d changed the letterhead or something while she’d been away? What if they checked

  with the University?

  “Allysha Marten is a Qerran citizen?”

  She answered that herself, moving so the woman could see her. “That’s right.”

  The woman glared at her and checked her database. Her lips tightened and her eyes flicked between

  Allysha and the record in front of her. “It looks in order. But you’re on your own. You realize that? It’s out of our hands, nothing to do with this space station.”

  Allysha suppressed a sigh of relief.

  “Understood, control,” Melching said. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

  Allysha shared a relieved look with Melching, blew out a breath and went back to the main cabin where the others waited. Home. A few more hours and she’d be home. Her spirits soared.

  “Are you ready, Allysha?” Saahren said.

  She nodded and patted the machine in front of her. The tracker was about twice the size of her techpack but it fitted comfortably in a pocket of her coat. She’d twea
ked the system to find somebody using her customized personal shield. If Sean was in Shernish, the device would find him.

  “Well then, let’s move,” Saahren said.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Allysha’s heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The others were already moving toward the hangar bay. Roland and Saahren would accompany Allysha, and Tyne would pilot the lander

  and stay with it while the others did their job.

  Tyne dropped the ship out ofQueen of Tyrone’s hangar and started the descent, skimming around the

  orbit for the right place to insert into the atmosphere. Clouds obscured the view, a soft white blanket at a low altitude.

  Home. She wished it could have been under happier circumstances. It would be late afternoon in

  Shernish, a good time for kaff at one of the kaffbars along Lobok Avenue, even if it was raining. She chided herself for flippancy as the words in Fyysor’s diary echoed in her mind.No one has contracted the disease and lived. I hope that we have done enough to ensure that this dreadful illness does not spread to Chollarc or the Khophirate. And now that scourge could be unleashed on the ptorix again. Her skin

  crawled at the thought. Where was Sean? Where was he going? Could they stop him in time?

  The lander rocked and bounced as it penetrated the clouds and descended into rain. The ship’s IS,

  Chas, turned on the shields but visibility was minimal. Not that it mattered to Chas.

  Roland looked askance at the wall of water pounding the shields. “Doesn’t look much like the image we worked with earlier.”

  “Well, it’s winter,” Allysha said in defense of her city. “It rains in winter here.” She glanced at the climate

  sensors. No joy there; the clouds were part of a system rolling in from the sea.

  “It’s going to be uncomfortable,” Roland said.

  “At least not too many people will notice the ship landing,” she said.

  The lander rocked a little as the force of the wind defied the stabilizers working to keep the ship in balance. They were approaching from the ocean. The rain fell in sheets but the machine’s IS filtered it from the view. Foam-streaked waves surged beneath them, long rollers trailing wind-blown crests.

  “How big are those waves, Chas?” Allysha said.

  “Six meters from trough to crest.”

  Six meters; she could vaguely remember just such a storm. The waves tore down one of the limestone

  stacks that stood offshore along the cliffs that loomed ahead. Waves reared up them, like alien beasts clawing up the heights; up, suck back, try again, a little higher. The water surged at the base, swirled around the boulders. The lander crossed the cliff line and slowed. Now more susceptible to the power of the gale, it rocked back and forth as the IS balanced the ship for landing.

  “Twenty seconds to landing.” Chas spoke calmly, totally unaffected by the forces of nature running riot around the ship.

  The display showed a view of the ground where the ramp would extend. White rivulets ran down

  toward the cliffs, snaking their way through the wind-flattened grass. Rain battered the shields.

  “Take us to the gates, Tyne.” Saahren pointed to the ones he meant, at the top of Port Road, on the

  display.

  Allysha jerked her head around to stare at him. What did he think he was doing?

  Saahren met her eyes. “We’ll have trouble getting out the door in this. Tyne can set us down and then come back here to wait.”

  “I guess so.” Allysha would have liked to walk through the town—but not in this. The best targets for the virus would be around the university, anyway. Apart from the university itself, most of the bars and

  restaurants were either in Lobok Avenue or down around the port. True, the markets were near the port as well, but hardly anyone would be there in this weather.

  Chas took the lander up. The engines growled, fighting to keep the vehicle steady as it rose and then their noise abated as the ship went with the wind. Out there, visibility couldn’t have been more than ten meters. The city emerged, low ptorix houses lining the streets that led to the summit where the university sat like a brooding beast on a nest. Water poured down walls and cascaded in torrents down the roads

  to the sea.

  “At least there’s nobody around,” Roland said.

  Tyne asked Chas to bring the lander down as close to the wall as possible. Shuddering, it sank into the dubious shelter of the surrounding shops and houses and settled on the road five meters from the gate.

  They descended into the gale.

  Sheets of rain battered the deserted streets, whipped at their faces, trickled into clothes. A torn awning snapped and swung. A wind-driven box clattered and banged its way down Lobok Avenue, audible

  even above the thunder of the storm.

  Saahren led the way, followed by Allysha, then Roland. They sprinted for the gate, fighting the wind. A ptorix stood in the entrance to the gatehouse, his conical body swathed in a cape beaded with water

  droplets. His eyes glowed blue and he held a weapon in one hand.

  Allysha pushed forward. “No need for alarm,” she said in Ptorix, holding out the envelope containing the letter of authorization.

  He jerked when she spoke to him, then moved back into the gatehouse, beckoning. “I know you.”

  She followed him into the room, Roland and Saahren in her wake. The ptorix retreated behind a

  counter, weapon in one hand, the envelope in another, while the tentacles from a third hand deftly

  extracted the document.

  “This looks in order,” the ptorix said, peering at the side of the letter written in Ptorix. “My name’s Vanraas. I’ve seen you here lots of times. Not a great day to be out.”

  Allysha grinned, forcing herself to be patient. “Pleased to meet you, Vanraas. And yes, you’re right

  about that. Isn’t it always the way, though? If something goes wrong, it’s always in the worst weather.”

  “Very true,” Vanraas agreed. “Well, you know where to go, I expect.”

  “That’s right. And the sooner it’s done, the sooner we can go home.”

  Vanraas hesitated. “Those humans… they look a bit like soldiers. At least, the tall one does.” He

  sounded doubtful.

  Allysha leaned toward him as though confiding in him. “I think they used to be. They work for Medway

  Development Corporation—the people I’m working for. These two are here to make sure I get back

  okay, you know what I mean?”

  Vanraas’s eating mouth jerked in assent. “It hasn’t been nice.” He pressed a button under the counter.

  “Use the door in the gate. I’ve unlocked it for you.”

  She thanked him and pulled out the tracker. The signal was strong. Sean was in the university.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Allysha opened the door a crack. A blast of air whistled in with a sharp spatter of raindrops. She slipped out, Roland and Saahren right behind her. They made the short sprint to the doorway in the gate, and climbed gratefully into the university grounds. They stopped, huddled together against the wall.

  “Everything okay?” Saahren said.

  Allysha pushed wet hair off her face and nodded. “He recognized me. It helps.”

  Saahren pointed at the tracker. “Have you found our target?”

  Allysha nodded. “He’s going to the control room in the university. See here?” she showed him on the display. “It’s under the fortress where they control all the service systems—plumbing, sewage, lighting, power—everything.”

  Everything.

  She groaned. “Oh, no. No.”

  “What?”

  “The university has a climate conditioning system, in the student refectory. You can get into the water pipes from the control room. The maintenance people regularly introduce disinfectant to control bugs.”

  She didn’t say the rest—Saahre
n would have made the jump. How horribly ironic that a device to kill bugs would be used to introduce bugs that kill. The pictures she’d seen in the laboratory on Tisyphor flooded into her mind; the sounds, the fear, the rotting, blackened tentacles. Imagine that taking hold, spreading through the town. Sean couldn’t know what was in the canister. He couldn’t do something so dreadful. She had to stop him. The fool, the insufferable, idiotic fool was being used, she was sure.

  Saahren interrupted her thoughts, hunched up in his coat. “We won’t achieve anything standing out here getting wet. The rain’s slackened a little. Let’s go.”

  The walls afforded a level of protection from the wind. Although the rain had almost stopped, a glance toward the sea was enough to show the abatement would be temporary. Ragged mist drifted among the buildings and water dripped off eaves and the branches of trees. A number of people of both species took advantage of the lull in the weather to make a dash from one building to another. The three humans were ignored.

  Allysha led them along the path up to the front entrance beneath supporting pillars formed and decorated to resemble stylized trees. They splashed through puddles and brushed past wet bushes amid the different sounds of water dripping, splashing, running. A human hurried past them with a muttered “sorry” as he brushed Roland’s shoulder. The water had penetrated her clothing. Her neck and ears felt cold but at least she wasn’t soaked to the skin.

  Unusually, the front entrance was closed. She pressed the prominent panel in the center of the elaborately carved wood and it slid back silently, enough to let two people abreast through.

  “Very nice. One of the best I’ve seen.” The journalist gazed up at the vaulted ceiling and the carved limestone walls, all curves and flows and intricate patterns, designed to look like an elaborate cave.

  Lights glowed from features resembling stalactites but shaped into animals and plants.

  “I guess so.” It was most certainly a magnificent building. She didn’t even see these places any more, she’d been there so often.

  “Hiya, Cheshnor,” she said to the elderly ptorix door warden standing at his station just inside the door.