He opened the plastic bubble and was about to step inside when Chai grunted behind him and he turned around and saw five Achernans in wrinkled cloaks and damp tunics come in the front door, accompanied by three more Achernans in the black-and-gold tunics and polished helmets of the police.
18
They saw Kettrick. One of the five pointed, there was a soft hissing explosion in the Achernan language, and one of the police called out to Kettrick to stand where he was. They advanced toward him, cutting off any escape route to the rear of the tavern.
At the same time the men who had been sitting with Kettrick jumped up from the table and headed for the Achernans. Behind them all, outside, Kettrick was aware of a large muttering tumult that seemed to be coming closer. Quip stood poised beside the bar, a tray of drinks forgotten in his hand.
Nedri, looking as haughty and contemptuous as any Achernan, said, "What seems to be the trouble?"
The policeman who had spoken before said with icy politeness, "We have a complaint against this man. Please to stand back."
Under the rim of his helmet his black eyes were shifting here and there as the other men in the tavern began to get up by twos and threes to slouch over and join Nedri and the others. They were not at all interested in Johnny Kettrick and his problems, but Johnny Kettrick was human and the Market was a human enclave, and they disliked the Achernans coming into it to arrest one of them. They disliked the Achernans, period.
"Perhaps," said Nedri, "it would be better to discuss this?"
"That is impossible. We have a complaint. Please to…"
The muttering from outside had grown louder. Now it spilled in through the door. It looked to Kettrick as though half the men in the Market were there and the rest coming.
Abruptly Quip set down the tray and pointed to the back of the room. "Go quick, Johnny. Out the left-hand door."
He plunged forward into the knot of men, pushing one of them so that he lurched forward and pushed somebody else and the whole group swayed a little into the forefront of the Achernan group. They gave back a step. More and more men poured in the door, around the Achernans, who were talking among themselves now and beginning to look ugly.
Kettrick called to Chai and ran, toward the left-hand door at the back.
He had almost reached it when there was a sudden flurry around the front door and a man's voice shouted, "Johnny!"
Kettrick stopped as though something had hit him.
"Just stand still, Johnny," the voice said. "Quite still."
Kettrick stood, but he turned around enough that he could see.
Sekma was there, with three or four others in the green I–C uniform. They had their shockers drawn, and pointed chiefly in Kettrick's direction. Sekma was talking now to the crowd.
"Let's hold it quiet, boys. There won't be any trouble. Suppose you all step back a little and give the gentlemen room."
The crowd began to move doubtfully back from the Achernans. Sekma nodded to a couple of the I–C men, who walked quickly toward Kettrick.
Chai said, "Fight, John-nee?"
"No," said Kettrick. "For God's sake no." He held his hands up as the men came to him. One was the placid plum-colored young Shargonese he had seen at Thwayn. He let them go over him and remove the knife from his tunic, trying to keep his face expressionless. Without looking at them directly he could see that at least two of the Achernan police had drawn their own weapons, nasty little black tubes not nearly so humane as the shockers, from which you could be expected to recover. He shivered, wondering whether he and Chai would really have reached that door.
The I–C men closed in on either side of him and he stood between them. Chai remained behind him, puzzled but obedient. Imperceptibly the center of the I–C group shifted toward Kettrick and away from the Achernans, who were still surrounded but not quite so closely as before.
Sekma smiled at the Achernan police and spoke to them politely. "I am grateful to you. We have been after this man for a long time."
The civilians hissed furiously in their own tongue. Their eyes were hot with anger.
The policeman said, "We have a complaint against this man. I must ask that you let us have him."
"Oh?" said Sekma. "May I hear the complaint?"
Again the civilians interposed.
The policeman said, "That is not necessary. Please surrender the…"
Sekma began to recite. "Article Four-Nine-Three-Nought-Seven, Paragraph A, of the League Code governing interworld commerce, to which Kirnanoc is signatory, states as follows: 'When there is disputed jurisdiction between local authorities and officers of the Bureau of Interworld Commerce, etcetera etcetera, an offense against the Code shall take precedence over an offense against a local ordinance.'" Sekma smiled again at the policeman. "I'm sure it would be simpler to settle the matter here than to go to all the trouble of a court hearing. What is the complaint?"
The policeman capitulated to Article 49307.
"Drunkenness, physical assault, malicious destruction of property, and unlawful flight."
One of the civilians said in lingua, "He attacked us on the canal. He deliberately rammed and sank our boat. We were nearly drowned."
"Ah," said Sekma. "Regrettable. And exceedingly wicked. Keep it in mind, and when he gets out of Narkad you can have him brought back here for trial. In the meantime, he is wanted for illegal entry into the Cluster, for illegally engaging in trade within the Cluster, for illegal operation of a ship engaged in interworld commerce, and for other Code violations with which I will not bore you. I don't believe there is any dispute?"
There was a moment's silence. The three police, very stiff now and looking as ugly as ever, hesitated, still holding their drawn weapons. Kettrick knew what was in their minds. They hated to have to back down in front of all these stinking humans who had swarmed around to challenge them. He knew they were weighing the alternatives, and he thought that if there had been a shred of legality to back them up they would have risked a full-scale riot to take him.
There was not, and so they decided against it. Sekma was clearly in the right, and while their respect for the rights and laws of humans would never have stopped them, they did not quite want to tangle with the whole League of Cluster Worlds, which the I–C represented.
The police turned and marched out, the crowd parting to let them through, and they said a few words to the protesting civilians, who looked at Kettrick and Sekma and the I–C men with the eyes of basilisks and then hurried after the police not wishing to be left behind among the humans.
Sekma, in a very quiet voice, said, "Let's get the hell out of here. No, out the back, Johnny. You wouldn't have gotten away even if you'd made it." He looked at Nedri and the others. "That wasn't very smart, you know. You could have gotten yourselves killed." He smiled. "But you'll never know how grateful I am."
"Me too," said Kettrick, thinking it was about the lamest thing a man had ever said. At the moment, he couldn't think of anything better.
Enago said, "I'm kind of sorry they decided not to fight What about it, Johnny? You happy now? There's a lot of us here…"
"I'm happy," Kettrick said. "Thanks anyway."
Clutha came up, looking from Kettrick to Sekma. "What about Boker? And Hurth? Johnny said…"
"They're all right," said Sekma. "Article Four-Nine-Three-Nought-Seven."
Kettrick gave a rebel yell and pulled a wad of crumpled credit notes out of his pocket. He tossed them to Quip. "Everybody get drunk for me, I won't have time."
He passed into the dark corridor, moving fast with the I–C men around him. A door swung open. Warm night air hit him, and a dash of rain. There was an I–C launch in the river at the back of the tavern, with more men waiting beside it.
They all piled in, finding space on the narrow seat that ran around the cockpit. There was an awning, and curtains which were drawn tight except for some unobtrusive spyholes. Sekma spoke to the man at the wheel and then sat down beside Kettrick, on the other side from C
hai. The launch rushed forward, away from the island. It swept into the barge canal. The Market dropped behind and the lights of the spaceport grew brighter ahead.
Sekma drew a long breath and let it out again. Kettrick realized suddenly that he was shaking.
"What a chase you've led me, Johnny." He swore, in a way that Kettrick had never heard from him before. "By God, I'd throw you into Narkad for the rest of your life, if…" He left the "if" hanging in the air.
"I'm sorry," said Kettrick meekly. "Things happened awfully fast. I…"
In the dim glow of the cockpit lights he could see Sekma's face, robbed of all its color and vivacity, showing only as a lined mask, infinitely tired, shockingly old. It spoke, so smoothly and naturally in the Tchell tongue that it might indeed only have been saying hello to an old acquaintance.
"Chai," he said, "you watch. And man not talk."
And Kettrick understood that even here he was not safe.
The launch docked at the I–C landing on the barge canal. An official carrier was waiting to take them the rest of the way, along the perimeter road to the Administration Building. Kettrick noticed that the driver avoided going into the garage underneath the wing where the I–C offices were. He pulled up instead in the open lot by the front of the building. They went in through the Personnel entrance.
When at last he and Chai were in Sekma's office and Sekma said, "You can talk now," Kettrick shook his head, appalled.
"Even in the I–C?"
"Didn't you ever wonder why I wouldn't notify my own to look the other way if they happened to see you? You have no idea how the poison of the Doomstar has spread. I believe every one of the men with me tonight is loyal, but I can't be sure. So most of them believe that you were wanted simply for breaking the law." He sank wearily into the chair behind the desk. "You took an awful chance with that call, Johnny. However, it saved your neck, because I was able to get there in time."
"How did you know where to look for me?"
"You said you were going to see what you could find out. Where else would you go but to the Market?" Sekma leaned forward and said furiously, "But the next time, goddamn it, don't be so clever. I could have picked you up right where you were calling from, only you had to cut the switch and run."
"The last I heard," said Kettrick, "you were on your way to Gurra. How did I know you were here? You never made any effort to contact us at the port, and you could have had me there all afternoon." He was a little bit sore about that. "Anyway, if I hadn't run, I wouldn't have found out what happened to the Doomstar."
Sekma said, "What did you find out, Johnny?" His eyes were desperate, though his voice was soft and almost without expression. "I hope it's good, because otherwise we seem to be at a dead end."
"The yacht Silverwing was in repair with Starbird. The components of the Doomstar were obviously not sold with the cargo. They are obviously not sitting in Starbird, either, not with the timetable so short. I believe the components were transferred to Silverwing." He added unnecessarily, "She belongs to Ssessorn, the curodai…"
"I know," said Sekma, and he left the office.
After a few minutes he came back.
"Silverwing left repair the day after Starbird entered. She took off that same afternoon."
Kettrick groaned. "I don't doubt it. For where?"
"You know better than that, Johnny. She's a private craft, not engaged in commerce. She doesn't have to file an i-t, nor state her cargo. Do you suppose she's carrying just those same components that Seri brought? Or do you suppose that she's got the whole lot with her, the complete mechanism? This is a hot bed, Johnny. No better place in the Cluster for final assembly, the final jumpoff. And no better ship to do it than the sacrosanct private yacht of the curodai of Achern."
He turned to a chart of the Cluster that filled all one wall of the office. "I guess we can take our pick of destinations. And we had better be right the first time. There won't be any second guessing."
He stared at the chart as though he hated it. He had lost weight since Kettrick had last seen him.
"Any ideas?"
"No," said Kettrick. "Not at the moment." He was too old to have ideas any more. Too old and too tired. He stood beside Sekma staring at the chart. Two old, tired men, he thought, and the Cluster is passing from us and ours to the people of the Doomstar, away from a rule of law to a rule of men, and terror, and there is nothing more we can do to stop it. We were just a little too late, a little too slow.
Starbird had reached the appointed end of her journey. How many more ships had reached theirs, coming by other ways from other worlds? And now, somewhere out there among the charted suns, Silverwing was flying, and in a matter of days one of those suns would die.
He remembered Boker's thick blue finger stabbing at these same charted suns, his own pointing out the dark smear of the Lantavan Bank. He shook his head. He did not quite laugh. Somehow it seemed not really funny.
"It looked so simple," he said. "What I was going to do, I mean, because I didn't believe in the Doomstar." He traced the route. "Tananaru, at your invitation. Then Gurra, Thwayn, Kirnanoc…going through the motions, you understand, because they suited me as well as you. Then here." He touched the Lantavan Bank.
"But your i-t said Trace."
"Sure it did. But we weren't really going there. Until later, that is, on the way back. Jump from Kirnanoc, go through the drift, and jump again…" He flicked the White Sun with the gesture of a man saying goodbye. "I still yearned after that million credits, Sekma. I could have done it, too."
Sekma muttered, talking to himself. "Gurra, Thwayn, Kirnanoc, Trace. That was Seri's i-t, too."
"Yes. But he never meant to make it, either."
"Except," said Sekma, "maybe on the way back?"
Sekma was studying the chart, his shoulders hunched, his head thrust forward.
Kettrick said stupidly, "But they wouldn't have any reason to go to Trace. I had to have a way back from the White Sun
He stopped, his mouth still open. Sekma had picked up a pointer and was using it like a rapier, as though he would skewer the stars out ofUhe sky.
"Where would you go from Kirnanoc, Johnny, if you wanted to poison a star? Not Trace, obviously, because you have said you are going there." The pointer rapped a planet. "Here? Possibly. But this system is a populous one, perhaps too large a murder for this stage of the game. Fear has to be fed adoitly. In too great doses it can cause revulsion. So…" The pointer rapped again. "Here? Or here? Both possible, but also populous. And apart from psychology or foolish notions of mercy, populous systems have heavy traffic, many eyes to see and ears to hear, and this time…this one time, Johnny…they must still work in the dark. How much easier and safer to poison a sun that has few children, and backward ones at that."
His pointer stabbed the White Sun.
"Somebody has to die in this demonstration, or the true power of the Doomstar will not be apparent to everyone. It is not, however, necessary nor desirable to slaughter too many. Think of the economic loss to the conquerors; populous systems produce wealth. Wouldn't the Krinn just about ideally fill the bill? They're human enough to die like humans, but they would be small loss. Even the heartstones would be a small sacrifice. And Seri knows all about the White Sun and the Krinn, because he had a partner once that was interested in them. How logical to point out the excellence of this choice to his fellow conspirators. A little difficult to get to, but once there, privacy in which to set up their apparatus is practically guaranteed."
He laid the pointer down and walked away and stood with his back to Kettrick.
"Am I talking nonsense, Johnny? Grabbing at any straw because I can't bear the thought of losing?"
Kettrick said slowly, "I don't think so. I think I know now exactly when it was that Seri decided he had to kill me."
Sekma's head came up sharply.
"I told him," said Kettrick, "that I was going to the White Sun. He asked me what would happen if he refused to have anythin
g to do with the venture. I said I'd make other arrangements and the half share of the money would go to somebody else. And that was when he promised to give me Starbird, knowing I'd be dead before morning."
Sekma turned and faced him. They looked at each other, and away outside a ship came down in a roll of thunder, and the fabric of the office quivered.
The buzzing of the communicator on Sekma's desk sounded incredibly loud and close at hand.
Sekma answered it. He listened briefly, and Kettrick thought that whatever had been said had startled. "All right. Yes," he said, and broke the connection. He looked oddly at Kettrick and walked to the door.
He opened it and stood waiting, and in a moment Larith came.
19
She took Sekma's hand and greeted him. She seemed uncertain, her voice subdued, her eyes a little downcast, as though she might be afraid. She was wearing a garment of thin dark silk, closely belted around the waist and with loose sleeves that covered her arms and shoulders, the sort of costume a woman might wear if she wished to be inconspicuous. As though, Kettrick thought, Larith could ever be inconspicuous.
She came into the office, and then she saw him and stopped, and her eyes widened and her hands made a startled gesture. She said his name, in a voice so low he could hardly hear it.
He said, "Hello, Larith."
She looked from him tor Sekma and back again. Then she shook her head and sat down.
"Just give me a minute," she said. "I wasn't expecting this." She glanced at Kettrick, and he saw the flash of tears in her eyes, though her mouth was smiling. "You do appear at the most unexpected moments…" She turned to Sekma. "I told him it would end this way."
Sekma said, "I'll be back shortly." He went out.
Kettrick stood looking down at Larith. She sat still, her hands clasped, her head bent so that he could only see the mass of copper curls.
"I did tell you, Johnny," she said at length. "I hoped it wouldn't happen, but I told you…"
Doomstar Page 14
