by Chris Bunch
“Enough,” Wolfe said. “Let’s finish it.”
Joshua snapped a block with his right hand, kicked into Kakara’s armpit, turned inside Kakara’s guard, and struck the knife from his hand almost delicately.
Kakara balled his hands into fists, but it was too late.
Joshua shouted and struck Kakara full force in the solar plexus with a right spear-hand. He didn’t have time to scream as Wolfe recovered and drove his palm into Kakara’s forehead.
The big man’s skull smashed like a thin-skinned melon as Joshua reached with his right, tapped four fingers sharply against Kakara’s heart, denied it permission to beat, and let the corpse slump to the deck.
The wave was nothing but foam, and there was sand gritting under Joshua’s knees, and he rolled sideways, came to his feet in the shallows, laughing, tasting the ocean’s salt.
Wolfe stood in an empty corridor, the taste of salt strong in his mouth, four bodies at his feet. There was a smashing sound, and a door panel ripped off its slide, and Cormac and Rita came out, guns ready. When they saw the bodies, both relaxed.
“For a man with a virus infection, you seem to have done all right,” Cormac said.
“The bastard ambushed me,” Wolfe explained. “Had me under a hypnotic.”
“You did fine, Ghost,” Cormac said. “But why the hell didn’t he screen you, make sure what you were going to say meant …”
“He told me soldiers weren’t worth anything once they were off the public tit,” Wolfe said. “A man who thinks like that isn’t going to care about one phonetic letter instead of another.”
“I figured something was wrong when Control told me the shackle code you gave him. You never were the kind of slob who uses the same one twice, so that was enough to put my boys in motion. But thanks for the second warning, Ghost India instead of Actual,” Cormac said.
“He was always like that,” Rita said. “Bull your way through, and everything’ll fall into place.” She looked at the body. “Didn’t work this time, did it, Jalon?”
“I assume you can lumber to our quarters under your own power and let the rest of that hypnotic wear off,” Cormac said. “Rita’ll escort you. I’ll go make sure Kakara’s goons are policed up.”
“They shouldn’t be much of a bother,” Joshua said. “One of Kakara’s toadies said thieves never fight together. I think their morale is being shaken right about now.”
“So he thought he was coming into a nest of thieves, eh?” Cormac laughed humorlessly. “Didn’t anybody suspect I anticipate visitors and have a welcome committee on standby? Kakara was a long way from being the first to want to pluck this ripe, dangling fruit called Malabar. Who was it who said a man must be moral to live beyond the law?”
“I forget,” Joshua said. “Jesse James, maybe. Or Tamerlane.”
Cormac went back through the panel into the hidden passage and was gone.
Rita was still staring down at Kakara’s body. “You probably hurt him a lot worse than I would’ve,” she said. “But you should’ve let me kill him.”
“You weren’t around,” Joshua said blandly, thinking of the jammed lock.
“I didn’t mean now,” the woman said. “I mean back when you pulled me away from him. Back aboard the Laurel.”
Joshua grimaced. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I should have.”
• • •
The five men, all experienced at reconning hostile artificial worlds, entered the big, empty chamber cautiously, keeping low, guns moving, pointing like searching eyes.
Small gunports opened behind, above them.
“Now?” a scarred man asked.
“Now,” said a woman who, but for her hard, knowing eyes, could’ve been his daughter, and gunfire spattered.
• • •
A trapdoor opened as one of Kakara’s officers stepped on it, the antigrav generator at the bottom of the shaft activated at full reverse thrust, and he fell screaming. The dozen men behind him shrank back and huddled against the walls.
A voice spoke: “The rest of the passage’s on hinges too, boys. Better throw away the guns.”
The men looked at each other, then threw their blasters down the hall.
“That was sensible,” the voice said. “Just stay where you are. There’ll be somebody along to collect you in a while. Maybe if you’re good we’ll feed you a beer.”
• • •
The room was circular, opulent, with scarlet drapes hanging from a high ceiling. There were tables with half-eaten meals, half-empty glasses. It was deserted.
The seven men entered. One picked up a glass and was about to sample its contents.
“Don’t,” his leader hissed. “Poison!”
The man dropped it. It smashed on the marble floor.
Then the room was full of laughter, rich, amused, female.
One man tried the door they’d entered through and found it locked. The other doors were locked as well.
“What do we do now?” one whispered.
Echoing laughter was his only reply.
• • •
The two scoutships hung in space just off Malabar, “above” the docked liner and troopships.
Two missiles floated from the back side of the planetoid, and fire hissed from their tails as they went to full drive. Alarms shrilled on the scoutships, and one managed a countermissile launch. The second was too slow, and vanished in a ball of greasy flame and quickly vanishing smoke. A third, fourth, and fifth missile arced around the planetoid’s surface, overloading the first scoutship’s sensors.
It too exploded soundlessly.
• • •
“This is Malabar Control,” came through the speakers on the bridge of Kakara’s liner. “We have taken or killed all of your men. Jalon Kakara is dead. Surrender, or we shall launch missiles against your ships. Reply immediately on this frequency.”
The voice was Cormac’s.
On the bridge, Captain Ives looked at Pak, who avoided his gaze.
“You have thirty seconds,” Cormac’s voice said.
Ives picked up a com.
• • •
“We’ll sort through them,” Cormac said cheerily, “then arrange for one of our ships to dump them somewhere not too far from civilization, on its next run with the goodies … Not that I’m sure what’s still civilization. Things have been getting decidedly strange.”
“I know,” Wolfe agreed. He picked up the snifter, swirled it, sipped, and set it back down. “I better not have any more of this before dinner,” he said. “I’ve been leading a clean life lately, and I’m sort of out of training.”
“Just as well,” Cormac said, draining his beer. “I’m starving. Rita, where are we going to eat?”
“Fifth Level,” she said. “They’re doing a victory banquet. I already accepted.”
“You want company, Joshua? I can think of a couple of lovelies who wouldn’t mind meeting the Hee-ro of Malabar.”
Kristin’s face came to Wolfe, was pushed away.
“Like I said, I’m living a clean life lately.” He stood.
“Joshua,” Cormac said, “you said you knew that things were weird out. Did you have anything to do with that?”
“In a way.”
“Are you away from it now?”
Joshua slowly shook his head. “Now I’m about to dive straight into the middle of things. Let’s go. If this is likely to be my last meal, it might as well be Trimalchian.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FEDERATION URGES CALM
Martial Law Temporary Measure to Quell Rioting
Press for More
NEW DJAKARTA, EARTH — Federation spokesperson Lisbet Ragnardotter announced today that the martial law recently proclaimed on many Federation worlds should be considered strictly a “temporary measure.”
She cited the recent rioting on Starhome and Ganymede as justification for the extreme measures, and said the emergency proclamations will be withdrawn as soon as what she termed the “curre
ntly unsettled situation” is stabilized.
“Those Federation worlds we have been forced to temporarily withdraw from will be strongly supported, and as soon as the current military buildup reaches proper strength, they will be reinforced.”
She stressed there is no cause for alarm by any Federation citizen, and said that the current flood of rumors are “palpably false to any logical man or woman, and should be ignored. Those spreading these wild tales should be reprimanded for attempting to destabilize the situation and, if they persist, reported to the proper authorities.”
No questions were allowed at the conference, and no information was available about the reported loss of Federation units somewhere near the Outlaw Worlds.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Michele Strozzi looked out at the workmen swarming over the scaffolding that marked where the new Residence was rising. His Residence, he thought with quiet satisfaction. He waited until the whispering died, then turned. Twenty-seven men and women looked back at the slender, quietly dressed man.
“Very well,” he said. “Is it agreed that, in the present state of emergency, I speak for the Order, and shall continue to do so until peace has returned and a proper consensus may be found?”
There were nods, quiet yeses.
“Good. I could practice false modesty and thank you for the honor, but I truly believe I am the best suited to represent the Chitet at this time and possibly in the future. Hopefully you will continue to agree with me. I have been made Master Speaker because I have argued we must take immediate action, rather than continuing to moil about in the shock and distress caused by the death of Master Speaker Athelstan and most of our hierarchy.”
“I think most of us here agree on that,” a man with a neat goatee said. “But what, exactly, should this action be? There’s been the conflict.”
“I do have a plan, one which I think will be the best for the Order. However, indulge me for a few moments, and consider history. A bit more than three hundred years ago, we attempted to bring order to Man’s worlds and replace the Federation, or, at any rate, install our brightest minds at its head. Obviously we were premature, and Man had not yet developed his fullest logic, for we were defeated, and our leadership either imprisoned or sent into exile. We bided our time, knowing that the battle had only begun.
“A hundred years later, on consideration of the Al’ar phenomenon, our then-Master Speaker realized we had erred in assuming we could continue at leisure to develop our culture, our society, and allow Man to recognize our superiority when it became obvious.
“Further analysis was done, the process and records of which seem to be lost, and our Master Speaker determined, for the ultimate good of Man, that we must seek an alliance with the Al’ar, since it was clear to him they possessed talents superior to Man’s. With such an alliance, we might learn these talents and continue assisting Man in his progression toward rationality. We were rejected by the Al’ar, and our envoys destroyed.
“We returned to our normal passive ways, and time passed. Perhaps this was an error in our logic, and we should have pressed matters. I believe it was, but my synthesis isn’t complete. Eventually, as we had predicted, war broke out between the Al’ar and Man. We firmly backed the human cause, having come to the realization that if there could be no cooperation between Al’ar and Chitet, they must be unutterably destroyed. The manner of their destruction is still unknown, but they vanished from our known universe, just before the final attack was to be made. Whether this was some sort of mass suicide or an interdimensional shift is unknown. Certainly since the Al’ar seemed completely alien to this spacetime, the second theory seems the most probable to me.
“In the midst of the celebration over the war’s end, our new Master Speaker, Matteos Athelstan, made a remarkable jump in logic, using techniques and sources that are still being sought. He decided that the Al’ar had not only fled the threat of destruction by Man, but that they also recognized a greater threat in the offing, one which they would be unable to defeat and hence refused to confront. He did not know what it was, or even what form it might take, but determined, as you all know well, to recover any and all Al’ar artifacts that seemed pertinent to their weaponry and thinking and turn their benefits to our Order. This included the Lumina stones and, when the existence of the ur-Lumina, the Overlord Stone, was discovered, that became the prime area of concern.
“At this point our matrix of events intersected Joshua Wolfe, who we quickly realized was our most dangerous enemy, the one who’s brought greater destruction to the Order than anyone in its history. Master Speaker Athelstan captured this man, if he is indeed just a man, and attempted to use him in our quest for the Overlord Stone.”
“Just a man, you said?” a very old man asked.
“Wolfe spent time among the Al’ar,” Strozzi said. “He was supposedly their captive at the beginning of the war, although I privately wonder if that is a fact or a cover-up Wolfe or his sometime superiors in Federation Intelligence promulgated.
“I personally believe that Master Speaker Athelstan erred slightly in his thinking about Joshua Wolfe, accepting that he was truly a renegade, rather than an agent in deep cover working for Federation Intelligence. Certainly it’s absurd to think one man could wreak the havoc he has managed.” Strozzi glanced reflexively at the ruins of the Residence.
“At any rate, Master Speaker Athelstan met his death attempting to use Wolfe to find the Overlord Stone. As you all know, Master Speaker Athelstan was very careful about security. Perhaps he was too careful, since we still have no idea exactly what happened on Rogan’s World. All records of the event appear to have been destroyed with Master Speaker Athelstan’s ship. However, we have sent skilled operatives to Rogan’s World, and they have analyzed the situation. We have some tentative appreciations:
“1. Joshua Wolfe was not killed in the debacle, but survived the destruction of Master Speaker Athelstan. Whether he was a causative factor is unknown.
“2. He managed to secure the Overlord Stone from the traitor and murderess who had possession of it, and he fled, possibly with the connivance of those Chitet who had been ordered to guard him closely. That last is a mere theory, though. But it is absolutely known that he has possession of the Lumina and that he killed Token Aubyn and destroyed her political machine that controlled Rogan’s World.
“Where Wolfe went from Rogan’s World is unknown. What he intends to do with the Overlord Stone is unknown. What Joshua Wolfe has to do with this present emergency in the former Al’ar Worlds, the so-called Outlaw Worlds, and the settled systems close to them within the Federation is also unknown.
“My belief is that Wolfe is indeed connected with the strange events that have come upon us, strange events foreseen by Master Speaker Athelstan. It is my belief that all of the events I’ve discussed, this possible alien entity that is wreaking so much havoc, the Overlord Stone, the Al’ar, and Joshua Wolfe are inextricably linked. It is also my belief that we are being invaded, that there is a new alien race no one knows anything whatsoever about, and they are infinitely more hostile than the Al’ar. We must act immediately to save Mankind.”
“I would like to see an analysis of your thinking, Brother,” a woman said.
“I cannot provide it at the moment,” Strozzi said frankly. “There are some quantum leaps I’m not yet able to justify mathematically. But I know I am right, just as Master Speaker Athelstan knew he was right, and events bore him out.”
“Accepting for the moment your thesis,” the woman continued, “have you a course of action?”
“I do,” Strozzi said. “The place where the ur-Lumina was found is, I believe, a locus. The ship where the Overlord Stone was found had been deliberately placed where it was by the Al’ar, and they did nothing by accident or without considerable deliberation. I also note that the earliest reports of the current phenomena came from sectors close to that point.
“I propose we send two or three of our finest reconnaissance craft, manned b
y the most skilled and experienced crews, to that sector, and, just within range of communication, our most powerful battlefleet, ready for the most immediate response to any eventuality. To prevent any errors, I shall accompany that fleet.”
“What do you expect to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Strozzi said.
“Isn’t there considerable risk to the recon ships?” someone else wondered. “And, conceivably, to yourself? We do not wish to sacrifice another Master Speaker.”
“There is,” Strozzi said quietly, “considerable risk to all Mankind right now. We must not delay. I feel the Overlord Stone will once again return to where it was found, and it will be returned by Joshua Wolfe. And when it does, we shall, we must, be ready to strike.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Well?” Rita asked. Cormac was at the ship’s controls; she leaned back in the navigator’s seat.
“Phew,” Wolfe said. “I thought I knew how messed up things have been lately. Not even close, was I?” He handed back the three fiches of recent newswires. “The world hasn’t become a better place in my absence.”
“And you’re going back into it? You sure?” Cormac asked.
“I don’t have any choice,” Wolfe said flatly.
“You could always give up the Saint George complex and get into a deep hole with us,” Rita suggested, “at least until things shake out a little and you can see through the mud a bit more clearly.”
Joshua smiled politely.
“It was worth a try,” she said. “We’ll be breaking out of N-space in — four ship-hours.”
• • •
Joshua turned end for end and touched down on the Resolute’s hull. He keyed the lock door sensor’s pattern. It slid open, and he pulled himself inside the lock, looked back.
Cormac’s ship, a former Federation deep-space scout, hung about half a mile distant. Its signal lights blinked.
G-O-O-D L-U-C-K S-E-E Y-O-U N-E-X-T T-I-M-E T-H-R-U.
“Not in this life,” Joshua said, waving a hand in farewell before he entered the Resolute.
