As she packed, she found herself staring at the black, clinched fist emblem on the center of her blouse. How many years had she worn this symbol of anti-Imperial protest? She recalled the first time her band of dissidents had used the black fist logo while raiding an Imperial drug-processing facility; they had called themselves "The Saints."
It used to be exciting, she thought. Our motto to "Battle, murder and sudden death." We were so sure that all Qestans and even other races would rally to support our cause and we could make a difference in the way the Imperium ran the Core. But lately, our results have weakened to near insignificance. The Imperium shrugged off our last two propagandistic appeals and began a pursuit threatening to end "The Saints" for all time.
Originally, she had wanted equality for the masses. Now, she welcomed this low-profile, high-paying exploration mission as an opportunity to re-evaluate her feelings and test the determination of the few fellow Qestans who would continue to work as her crew.
It would be an opportunity to try and commandeer Karr's Silver Dagger, too, if she got half a chance. She was unsure how she'd deal with the co-pilot, Clamber. Should she try to persuade him to join her cause, or do something more direct, more drastic?
Aura shook her long violet hair and continued packing. And just what was her cause, these days? she wondered. Had the political circumstances shifted, without notice, leaving her behind? The concept brought her back to staring at the black fist emblem all over again….
* * *
Turner Werch rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He took a deep breath and stretched the kinks out of his back. The work just never stopped piling up. His body felt stiff and sore from the hours of sitting hunched over reports and compscreens.
He walked the ten paces from his desk to the wet-bar and poured two-fingers of Hephaestian Scotch into a crystal goblet, carrying it back to his cluttered desk.
Three of his teams had already left Hyperion XI. This last one was all he could afford to spend on the Esper Shadow project.
He glanced through the report on FZ13. It was worse than he'd thought. The sector was almost completely unexplored. There was only one type 0, Band F star in the area, plus an Imperial Outstation. One of the stars had to be the location of the thieves' hideout. But there were rumors of Sire-Koval sightings in the zone. Could that be the cause of Janssen's contaminated gene-type? And to make matters worse, hostile attacks from Edorrian transports had made FZ13 a sector that many Core-dwellers chose to avoid.
No, it didn't look good, unless Jamie Clamber could focus the search to a single one of those stars, and thus cut down the mission's exposure by one third.
Turner took a deep drink of his Scotch and went back to scanning a readout on Clamber's psyche. Bright Law found him there when she came to remind him about the dinner appointment.
* * *
Dinner, served in the executive dining room on eighty-third floor overlooking the shimmering surface of Lake Bialer, consisted of sautéed burgers and rare Amthor wine.
"So much for good taste," Kleg grumbled.
Jamie thought it was rather unique.
After the remains of the dessert had been cleared, Turner Werch rose to speak. "Zaxt has given me the results of this afternoon's training session. He seems delighted, and I must say that I'm quite encouraged."
Jamie played with his water glass. This could either be very boring, or very interesting. The next few minutes would tell.
"I know," Werch went on, "that by now you each have a good idea of the mission's goals." He gave a nod to Zaxt, who stood up and began to display the details of a flat sleek-looking ship on his chest screen. "This is the exterior of an Esper Shadow," the businessman said. "It's capable of +30 lightspeed, which means it can travel across the Core in under four days."
Jamie leaned forward to get a closer view at the bot's screen.
"While on route to FZ13, I want Karr and Clamber to become familiar with its operation. You just might need to know how to fly one to these single-seaters. You will each be part of a matrix management assignment, with Karr as pilot, Clamber as co-pilot and scout, and Devor and her crew of three Qestans overseeing navigation and system ops."
Aura spoke up, "Neither Karr, nor I care for that part of the deal."
A new image appeared on Zaxt's chest. Jamie quickly recognized the star map, even though he'd never been near the sector.
Ignoring Aura's comment, Werch went on. "This is FZ13. It is fifteen LY's wide at the Core and stretches out to the Great Unknown. Unless Mr. Clamber can be more definite about his friend's possible location, you could be out there for a long time."
The image on the bot's chest changed once more. This time it showed a shimmering gas cloud floating in blackness.
"I think it's only fair to tell you that there have been several sightings of Sire-Koval in this sector. Little is known about these 'energy creatures'. They seem to communicate telepathically, travel at near light speed on their own, and deliver a powerful mental shock if provoked. Unconfirmed reports claim that they can assume human form."
Jamie noticed that Kleg had stopped playing with his napkin and was listening intently.
Werch finished with: "Are there any questions about this assignment?"
Kleg pointed at Zaxt. "Why the bot-spy?"
"I never spy," Zaxt answered.
"So you say, shiny. If not, then why do we need him along at all?"
"Zaxt is a diplomatic/public relations bot," Werch responded. "If you know anything about his design, you'll understand that he'll be a valuable asset during first contact or negotiations. Also, he'll provide a portable access to reference data from the Imperial Codex. His duties will be to assist navigation and offer alternatives during a crisis."
"What sort of crisis?" Jamie asked.
"Any sort of crisis."
Aura said, "Like if we should happen to encounter an Edorrian warship?"
"What?" Kleg asked. "Who said anything about meeting Blue Meanys? Turner, I want to re-negotiate my contract. Now. "
The businessman raised his palms and nodded. "All right, I'll pay a thirty percent bonus should you have a run in with any reps from that militaristic empire. Their home world is somewhere out in FZ10 through 15, we think. But your chances of encountering them are extremely slim. Are there any other questions? No? Then, I advise you to get as much rest as possible. Karr's ship will be ready to leave in the morning. Good luck."
Jamie rose with the others and moved toward the exit. He felt he had some of the answers to his many questions, but he was still uncomfortable about the command structure within the mission. He doubted that he could take orders from Karr, or even Devor.
"Mr. Clamber," Werch called from behind him. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Turner and Zaxt were heading through another door to a private vator. Jamie walked over and the businessman ushered him aboard. They dropped to Werch's office, where the stacks of plastexts were piled even higher than the last time Jamie had been here.
Werch went straight to the bar as soon as they entered the room. "Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Clamber?"
Zaxt walked to the cluttered desk and waited a word.
"No thanks," Jamie answered. "I've enough addictions, already."
The businessman paused for a second and then poured himself a generous helping of amber liquid. "You're a very private man, Mr. Clamber. And not as much of a team player as I would have liked." Werch sighed and reclined into the chair behind his desk, while Jamie chose to stand. "While you're out there in FZ13, I won't be able to help you."
"Help me?"
"You'll be on your own, without a friend. Unless you make one."
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Werch."
"I looked over your profile and the results of your shared training session. As I said, you're not a team player."
Jamie felt his blood rising. What was this guy getting at?
"Nor are you performing at your peak. What are you holding back? Don't yo
u have any sense of comradeship?"
"I had plenty of comradeship with Cast Janssen before he...
"You were going to say 'died,' weren't you? But now you're not so sure that he's dead."
Jamie swallowed, thickly. "Mr. Werch, I'll be honest with you. I don't care for the way you're setting up this expedition. Why employ a known smuggler and rabble-rouser like Aura Devor and a notorious raider like Kleg Karr? Yes, I've been doing a little research while waiting in room. Those two are like matter/anti-matter. If I'd known who they were before sharing that HAVENset with them, I'd never have gone along with it."
Turner Werch smiled. "Exactly."
"Now who's not being a team player?"
"I'm one of the five heads of business on Hyperion XI," Werch explained dryly. "Some people call me a kingpin. I've gotten where I am balancing risk against opportunity."
"What sort of team is this?"
"I share your concern about the hostile natures of your team members, but feel it is necessary under the circumstances. Karr is an untrustworthy ass, but he's also perhaps the luckiest man alive and a damn good pilot. Devor is an idealist and a spoiled leader of a rebel group that is rapidly falling apart, but she's a semi-telepath and a skilled criminologist who can still inspire her Qestan followers. One provides the ship you will travel and work in, the other provides the crew. Each of these contributions and skills will be valuable should you encounter trouble during your mission. Matrix management, Mr. Clamber; that is how I balance the forces of risk to create an opportunity."
"And what about me?" Jamie asked. "What am I balanced by?"
"You are the fulcrum; a very important and useful instrument when Janssen and the ships are located. I bear you no grudge and see you as no threat. You have no history of violence or intrigue, so you need no balancing. You do, however, have an attitude problem."
"Which is?"
Werch glanced down again at the report. "As far as I can tell, you hesitate to press your advantage under stress and often disregard or ignore threatening circumstances."
"I don't need your pocket psychiatry," Jamie said bitterly. "I'm nobody's instrument or tool. And regardless of your theories of matrix management, I still don't like this assignment."
Werch shrugged. "I'm sorry feel that way. There's the door. Why not use it?"
"Because..." Jamie started abruptly, and then hesitated. "Because I still want to find my friend and..." He heard his voice trail off into silence.
"Where is your friend, Clamber? You could do a lot to cut this mission down to size, if you'd tell me where in FZ13 you think Janssen may have gone."
Why am I holding back, Jamie thought. More money? Better job security? Fear that I'll be left behind? Werch has done nothing to threaten me, so why don't I make life easier for everyone and name the place Cast wanted to visit?
"Mr. Clamber?" Turner cleared his throat. "As you can see, I'm up to my neck in planning here. I need—we need an answer."
"All right." Jamie studied the carpet, and then looked up at the other man's florid face. "I think he might be on Zori."
Turner Werch raised his eyebrows. "Zori is an Imperial Outstation. Why would he want to go there?'
"I don't really know. He just said he imagined it would be a good place to visit someday. That's all."
The businessman swallowed his drink. "Zaxt, change the navigation coordinates to those of Station Zori. Access data files for all available info on Imperial Outstations, both restricted and unrestricted, and store it for review and analysis." He directed his attention to Jamie again. "Thank you, Mr. Clamber. You'd best be getting along to rest up for the trip."
Jamie felt somewhat relieved. As if he no longer carried an oppressive responsibility by himself. "Aren't you shutting down for the night, too?" he asked with genuine concern.
Werch gestured at the piles of work on his desk. "The market opens in ten minutes."
Jamie nodded, accepting this. He felt oddly reassured, but still cautious. He went back to the vator. "You're right," he said, smiling weakly, "I could use a friend." The vator took him down to his floor and he spent the rest of the night his quarters.
* * *
Turner Werch watched the young pilot step into the vator. He reached out and studied Jamie's psyche readout for the third time that evening. "I'd hoped I could trust Mr. Clamber," he sighed. "But it looks like you'll have to take care of him along with the rest of them, Zaxt."
"Very good, sir," the silver bot responded.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Jamie awoke still troubled about the previous evening's conversation with Werch. He had to admit that the executive had seen straight through to the heart of his inner feelings; probably the effects of a telepathic assistant, or a series of surveillance devices.
Jamie began glancing around the room for concealed eavesdropping equipment. A brief search from floor to ceiling uncovered nothing. But this only made him worry more. Then he realized abruptly how paranoid he was acting and shrugged it off with a grin.
The grin faded when he found Zaxt standing outside the door of his quarters. "Good morning," the bot smiled, reaching for Clamber's bags. "There's just enough time for a repast before transporting up to the Dagger. You slept well, I hope."
Jamie started off down the corridor. "How long have you been waiting out here?"
"I just arrived," Zaxt answered. "Had to help reprogram the ship's nav unit. I also loaded supplies for our mission, sorted several hundred communiques for Turner Werch, and conducted a thorough analysis of—"
"All right, already. I get the picture." If Zaxt intended to respond so fully to every query put to him, this going to be a long trip, indeed.
"All right," the bot agreed, "already."
Jamie sighed, feeling the beginnings of a mild headache.
After a quick breakfast, the members of the team caught a skimmer and rode the skystalk up to the dockstation where their ship waited. Jamie used the time to become more familiar the info Zaxt made available on his chest screen, regarding their destination.
FZ13 was perhaps the most under-developed zone surrounding the Core. They have to travel over 100 light-years to get there, which meant at least a week in hyperdrive. The nearest Core civilization was Alcaid, a site Jamie had heard only little about.
Frontier Zone 14 lay "next door," spinward. It housed another Imperial Outstation, which at first glance appeared to be lights away, but Zaxt explained that the two stations were much farther apart due to differences in their depths within the Zone and their positions around the Corecliptic. FZ12, one Zone anti-spinward of their destination, was completely empty; a rarity that did not escape Jamie's attention.
Arriving at the port tube leading through the docks, the circuit-jockey caught a glimpse of the ship he was to co-pilot into FZ13. The Dagger, a surprisingly small raider, rested quietly in its tractor nest. The polished surface of the scout craft was designed to repel laser fire. Fast and light, the ship sported fore-mounted Mk 20 Cannons and seemed well-suited for insurgency missions conducted by a man like Kleg Karr.
When Jamie and Zaxt stepped through the main lock, they heard a familiar sound; the raised voices of Aura and Kleg.
"Listen, pinhead," the woman screeched, "keep away from my men!"
"Keep your men off my ship!"
Jamie came into the Dagger's tiny control room and found his two "associates" standing toe to toe. Each glared deeply into the other's eyes. Shimmering waves of hate seemed to surround them.
"You Replicates are all alike." Karr actually growled. "Can't keep your hands off anything that isn't yours."
Aura's green eyes flared. "I'm going to put hands on your throat in half of a second, mister."
Kleg's fingerless-gloved hand moved closer to the platinum handle of a pulse-pistol strapped to his thigh.
"Hey team," Zaxt waved. "Ready for a little high adventure in the vast cold reaches of outer space?"
Aura looked in their direction through slitted eyes. The ca
bin was silent for a nano, except for the beeps and pings of operational systems. Then the beginnings of a smile tugged at her wide mouth.
Jamie cleared his throat. "Turner tells me you two are supposed to balance each other." He shifted the load of equipment that he carried on his shoulders. "One has the ship and the other the crew. Seems fair to me. Where do I stow my gear?"
"Take it aft," Kleg said.
"Take it fore," Aura said.
"He can't take it fore," Kleg spat. "There aren't any compartments in front of this one. We're in the control cabin."
"He can stow it in the empty lockers under the command console," Aura replied bitingly.
"Hey," Jamie called, "no sweating, okay? Zaxt will take care of it."
"I will, sir?"
"Take care of it, Zaxt."
"Yessir." The bot moved aft with the baggage.
"Nice ship you've got here, Kleg." Clamber hoped to change the subject and defuse the confrontation. "'Jadefleet design, isn't she?"
"Was. I've made a few modifications."
Clamber bent to inspect the nav station, letting his fingers move over several of the pressure-sensitive keys. "Yes, sir. A fine ship. Must do close to 12.5 translight."
"More like 15." Kleg shot a glance in Aura's direction. "If certain people leave her alone."
"My people need training time," Aura responded. "Especially if they're expected to function as an effective crew on a can like this."
"Can?"
"What strength thrusters and tractor beams is she carrying?" Jamie attempted to guide the conversation back on the ship's design. "After all, a co-pilot is supposed to be familiar with the vessel he's co-piloting."
Kleg shifted his attention back and forth between Jamie and Aura, as if plotting another snide comment. But the words that came out of his mouth were calm and business-like. "Maneuvering thrusters are rated at 15. Tractors at 20. The ship's prize possession is an experimental cloak that can render it 'invisible' to outside sensor detection."
Mutiny on Outstation Zori Page 4
