The Jump Point

by Anthony James

  Killara pursed her lips and looked sceptically from the package to Phildore's face and back again. Phildore seemed not to notice. Milnus was sure that Killara would not give up the package's location easily and would do what she had to do.

  "Do you understand?" asked Phildore.

  Killara looked over at Milnus, back at the package and nodded her head.

  Phildore handed her the package and she shoved it deep inside her clothing. With Phildore's part completed, Milnus dismissed him, waiting for a minute or two after he left before explaining the task to Killara. She sat where Phildore left her, waiting.

  "Right, Killara. You will proceed by merchanter to Kalany under the guise of a freelancer looking for work. There is money to be made on Kalany if you have the right skills, so it's a plausible cover. You'll be met on Kalany, you'll hand over the package and that will be the end of it." Killara had no questions, nor did Milnus expect any. "Passage has been arranged for you on board the trader Catseye. You should proceed straight to the docks now and board her. You only have a limited time window. As far as they're concerned, you are a paying passenger, nothing more. The financial side of things has already been taken care of. Catseye is berthed in dock F17. Your contact on the Catseye is a man named Strude. You'll be met on Kalany by one of our people, Palans. Don't look for him. He'll find you at the other end."

  Killara nodded and, shouldering her pack, she strode out the door without another word.

  The whole procedure had been straightforward and Milnus was mildly pleased with himself. The solution was clever and Valdor would have had his paranoia catered to. Certainly, it was better to be safe, but sometimes Milnus felt Valdor took things too far. In a few more hours it would all be over and they would be able to get back to the business at hand. He took a few minutes examining the options to see if there were any flaws. Satisfied that there were none, he reached across the desk and opened a channel to report to Carr.

  ֍

  Killara knew what she had to do and she didn't have much time to do it. She had the name of the contact on the merchanter and the name of her contact on Kalany. First point to last point, end of job and then disappear for a while. All very simple. What she didn't understand was why she always got picked for jobs like this one? She knew she had to learn to control her natural resentment. It got her into too much trouble. She gritted her teeth and muttered to herself as she walked.

  She was graced with a stocky figure, a particularly unattractive face with narrow squinting eyes, a huge jawline, and a very short temper. This meant she usually found herself in the sort of jobs nobody else really wanted, or with people that nobody really wanted to deal with. That was, of course, unless they had a serious psychosis. She didn't mind so much. It meant that life was occasionally very interesting, and from time to time, she had the added bonus of taking out her resentment on people she was allowed to hurt. Generally, it was a satisfactory life.

  Every now and again she got one of these uncomplicated and potentially tedious assignments. These were the sorts of jobs she did not like. Right now, she'd like to hurt Milnus instead. And that tech type who had spoken to her like an idiot. That tech type would keep until later. She'd find her opportunity, eventually. Milnus, well he was a different matter. He was out of the game.

  She could feel the tiny package inside her clothing and she curled her lip at the thought of having to swallow it. There had better not be anyone on board this ship who might get in her way. Underneath, she really hoped there was.

  She reached the docks after a lengthy walk. Phildore said it would pass through her body within a few hours if she had to swallow it, but time meant very little to Killara and whether it caused her any discomfort or not, it didn't take away the indignity of having to retrieve it. Having to walk to the docks instead of catching the public trans or having some other private transport arranged was offensive as well, but orders were orders and she knew she had to follow them. It was just so much easier when she enjoyed what she had to do.

  Killara knew she wasn't very good with numbers or reading, but she was very good at remembering. She had the name of the ship memorised and hoping that was enough, asked one of the dockhands for directions. He gave her a dock number and waved his hand vaguely over to the right. Why didn't she remember the number that Milnus gave her? It sounded like it was the same one, but she wasn't sure. She could tell already that this was not going to be a good day.

  Three more times she asked directions wandering all over the dock trying to locate the ship. Finally, as luck would have it, she ran into a crew member of the very ship she was searching for. He wore stained coveralls, an unshaven face, lanky hair, and a distinct odour. He looked at her belligerently and asked what she wanted. His tone barely changed when she told him she was a paying passenger and gave him the contact name.

  "Yeah, all right. That's me," he said and looked her up and down again.

  Grudgingly he motioned her to follow and led the way, picking his way circuitously between the metal walls of other ships, stepping over pipes and machinery on the way. She was sure he had chosen the route deliberately to provide the maximum discomfort possible. Well, if that was the way he wanted it, that was the way he could have it. She'd find her opportunity. She was good at remembering. Finally, he drew to a halt and indicated a derelict vessel with a toss of his head.

  The ship was a mess. If the crew member she was following had been made from metal and given drives he would probably look in better shape than the scow that sat before them. There were scars all over the hull's surface and distinct cracks within the outer insulating skin. There was a visible cant to it, as if someone had shoved it down with too much force on one of its landers. Killara had serious doubts about its capacity to make any voyage, let alone this one.

  The scow's inside was little better. It had the added feature of that certain indefinable atmosphere that came from unwashed humanity and recycled air. She had seen and smelt worse, but not much. This was not going to be a good assignment. Without so much as a tour, the crewman led her to her quarters. She closed herself behind her cabin door, breathing in deeply of the sour recycled air. Even then it tasted sweeter than the odour she had to endure standing close to her guide. Killara was not overly concerned about bathing and being clean and other such social niceties herself, but even so, she'd be glad of a shower after this one.

  ֍

  Up in the Catseye's front, its pilot sought clearance from dock control. As soon as he received it, he slapped the channel shut. He checked the settings then checked them one more time, sucked a large swallow from his bottle and spat to one side before initiating the ignition sequence. The deep throbbing whine of the drives grew in the ship's bowels, faltered, then sputtered and died, bringing a curse to his lips. Muttering under his breath, he spat once more and started the sequence again. This time the drives caught, and the ship rose ponderously, creaking, and popping, from the dock. Once more, they were under way and he leaned back and let out a breath of relief.

  He nursed the dishevelled ship up from the pad as he had done many times before. Ever so gently, he eased her through the atmosphere. He knew how much his ship could take. They'd lived together for a long time. He would let it out a bit once they got out onto the open lanes, but he didn't want to come crashing back down to the dock just right now. Regardless of life and limb, the damage claims would be too high and insurance didn't come into the picture. Though come to think of it ...

  ֍

  Killara sat in her pungent, grease-stained cabin cursing her luck. With every creak and shudder of the claptrap ship she grimaced and held tighter to the bunk's sides, expecting immanent disaster. As she heard the noises lessen and finally fade into silence she knew they had reached the atmosphere's outer edges and she felt a small sense of relief. There were still creaks and groans as the ship travelled higher, but it sounded less as if it was going to break apart with every new noise. She wondered why they just didn't park her in orbit and take a shuttle down,
if they even had a shuttle. They had to have their reasons, and besides, it was really none of her concern.

  Dismissing the thoughts, she settled herself with her back leaning against an inner bulkhead and closed her eyes. The pressures of the take-off had not helped, but she'd cope. It was going to be a long voyage, that was for sure.

  Vaguely she could hear noises of the crew moving about the ship doing whatever it was they did. She didn't have much interest in ship tech. If it got her where she wanted to go, that was all that mattered. She wouldn't trust a single one of the crew though — no more than she could throw them. Just let one of them try and come in here to chance their luck. It would certainly be in character. She'd seen their type before. They'd find out a thing or two if they did. Just like the last one who tried. A slight smile played across her lips at the thought. Maybe, if she was lucky, one of them would.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Cradle

  After the dark robed figure had wandered off across the hillside, Mahra had felt the sense of pressure ease. She still felt uncomfortable with what he was, but there was something about him and the things that he said that had touched a chord within her. She was not a stranger to asking why, and there were things within the questions that Aleyin asked her to think about, that begged for answers. He had left her with a puzzle. She knew that there was no one to give her answers, so it sat with her, leaving her with a nagging doubt. For the days and weeks that followed, things were not quite the same. Nothing around her had changed, but it was as if Aleyin had cast a knot in the smooth path of her life. The sense of untroubled acceptance had gone. Somewhere, somehow, there might be someone or something playing with the shape and direction of her life without her knowledge, and she was less than happy with the thought.

  One afternoon, something changed. She was kneeling at the end of the bed and had just opened the chest, when she noticed a small red light blinking insistently within the darkness. Placing the blade down, she reached forward and retrieved the comp. She flipped it open and keyed access. This was something new, and she thought, logically, something important. She waited for initialisation before accessing the bulletins. There was just one line spelled out in capitals across the screen. JOINT MEETING. CENTRAL COMMITTEE. STATUS: PRIORITY. The last word flashed on and off.

  Mahra at once understood what she had to do and the thought filled her with excitement. At last, she'd have the chance to take her place among the senior members of Lantana. She was not sure if she was ready for it. She was still so young, especially compared to those such as the Old One. What could she possibly have to offer that body of collective wisdom with her mere fifteen years? But there was no point debating it. The summons had come.

  Unwrapping the blade for the third time that day, she strapped on the sheath and made sure it rested firmly in position on her back, lying at a slight angle running down between her shoulder blades. Reaching up, she made sure there was no slippage of the straps or sheath. Such laxity could be costly, getting in the way of a smooth removal of the blade. When she first started wearing the blade, she had found it necessary to adjust the straps themselves, drilling holes further down the leather so they would fit snugly about her smaller frame. She'd grow into it in time, but for now, it was secure enough.

  Wearing the blade was important. It served her as her identifier, marking her as one who belonged. It embodied all the aspects of her training. She remembered Aleyin, and that he didn't wear a blade. She wondered briefly if that was his choice, or whether he was denied it for some reason. That too was something else to file away for later reference. She scurried around collecting a few supplies, dropping them one by one into the woven carrier she'd take with her on the journey. Last to be included was the comp. This, she thought, was the only essential item in the bag. Although it would be a two-day journey to the collection point, she was perfectly self-sufficient and had no need to take anything else. But she didn't want to waste time having to forage for supplies along the way.

  Despite her excitement, she took the time to scan each room to make sure she had forgotten nothing. Satisfied that she had all she needed, she retrieved the comp from the sack. She pressed an acknowledge, and watched with satisfaction as the red light stopped blinking, then she dropped it back into the sack. Finally, she walked out into the early afternoon glare, secure in the knowledge that all would be as she left it when she returned. There were no human predators on Lantana. The dwelling would be safe until her return, along with the little in it.

  Striking out toward the northeast, she paused only long enough to make the appropriate gestures toward the great bowl that carried the ever-burning Flame of Life. Her thoughts went out to the Old One. Let her make him proud. Let her not make a fool of herself and let her actions show loyalty to his memory. Silently, she mouthed this as a prayer to whatever forces of continuity and life existed on this world. She knew that although he was gone, he continued within her with the mark of his hands upon what she was and what she may be destined to become.

  The journey itself was uneventful. She took time from her march only to perform her daily exercises and to check on the comp's status, but there were no changes to the bulletins.

  Not that she expected anyone to contact her.

  She slept one night in the open, making her bed from leaves and moss gathered beneath the huge spreading trees that canopied the lesser reaches of the high slopes. Even though the days of this season had become warm, the nights were still chill, particularly at this altitude, for she was moving up the slopes before crossing the ridgeline to her destination. After a peaceful dreamless night, she woke with the dawn to continue her trek, the feeling of anticipation growing within her as she drew nearer to the call point.

  Mahra crested the ridge that intersected her path around midday. Here she stopped, allowing herself the luxury of absorbing the vista that lay spread out before her. The chill wind whipped about her on this exposed expanse of naked rock, but she ignored its bite, absorbed by the majesty. The skein of subtle colours was unmarred by the handiwork of human kind; not a road or blocky settlement to spoil the smooth contours of muted greens and browns. Those who lived on The Cradle were discreet in their interference, enough that it could almost be taken for a virgin world. Mahra's few minutes of absorption paid homage to the history of her people and their care to stay as one with this world that played host to them. Taking a deep breath, she shouldered her pack, settling the straps comfortably in place, and began to pick her way among the rocks that littered the path down to the plains spread out below.

  She reached the call point late in the afternoon. The widely cleared circle of ground was marked at its boundaries with four upright bronzed poles. These were the key poles. The place was easily recognizable as she made her descent. The poles shone with the reflected sunlight, now low on the horizon. She could have located the place with the help of her comp, but her path was clear, and her sense of direction had never failed her. She had been here only once before, but that was enough to place its location firmly in her mind.

  The grasslands stretched out in every direction from the rich, dark brown of the cleared circle floor. No vegetation grew within its boundaries. Some signal from the poles saw to that. She sensed rather than felt the low-pitched hum below the edge of her perceptions as she neared the edges. The patch of ground and the shiny untarnished poles were the only sign of a human presence as far as she could see. All about, the grasses waved slightly in the breeze, only broken by the crisscrossing paths of herd beasts. The continuing vibration stirred at the back of her senses making her feel a little unsettled, but she dampened the feeling and pulled the pack from her shoulders before fishing around in it for her comp.

  Mahra placed it flat in her palm and crouching, rested its top edge at the pole base. Carefully she slid it upward, always keeping contact, along the entire length from bottom to top. Twice more she performed the sequence. The comp should now have keyed the call signal. There was nothing left to do but wait, s
o she settled herself cross-legged at the circle's edge to do just that. Sitting here, again she was reminded of the questions that Aleyin asked. She knew what the poles were for. She knew what her comp was for, but she had no idea how they really operated. She stared at the poles and wondered. Why would that knowledge be denied to her?

  She didn't have long to wait, for less than an hour later, a shadow crossed the remaining light, stretching across the diameter of the circle and reaching to where she sat. Looking up, she tracked the oval shape as it passed across the setting sun's orange orb, growing larger by the minute. The flyer began its descent and Aleyin's questions were banished from her thoughts. Without a sound to disturb the tranquillity of the open savanna, the flyer soared gently to the ground.

  The craft was an oval bubble with some sort of clear plas making up the upper half. The lower section was a uniform grey-black and sheenless like her blade. She sat staring at it for a minute or two, but nothing happened. The flyer sat, seemingly inert. All around, the grasses whispered in the breeze. Only the sound of her own breathing marred the natural silence.

  Mahra's forehead creased. Picking up the comp, she pointed it at the flyer. When that produced no results, she slapped the comp on its side and shook it, before waving it again in the general direction of the craft. Still there was no response. She felt frustration beginning to well inside her, but with an effort, she took a deep breath and held it in check.

  Hoisting her pack on one shoulder she moved toward the flyer one step at a time, comp brandished before her. Gingerly she circled the craft, caution foremost in her mind. Nothing was obvious on the surface, and the transparent dome appeared seamless. She took one more step, then jumped back with a start as a sudden noise broke the stillness. With the whirring noise of machinery, a section of the domed top slid back into a recess in the lower hull. Startled, she dropped the comp, then scrabbled to retrieve it, berating herself for stupidity. Of course, the mechanism was keyed to her proximity, and here now was her point of entry. She felt thankful that there was no one here to witness to her foolishness.