Was Once a Hero

by Edward McKeown

  Fenaday looked at the knife for a few seconds then touched the hilt. “I swear,” he said, feeling faintly ridiculous, “on my hope of ever finding Lisa again that I will take you to Enshar and if possible, bring you back alive.”

  The Denlenn placed his big spidery hand over Fenaday’s; it felt feverishly warm. “To Enshar then. I am your officer. You may count on me, from this point in any matter that does not affect the safety of my patron, Belwin Duna. My life is otherwise of no account and is yours.”

  Duna looked at his young friend, then at the human. “Do you know any Denlenn, Captain Fenaday?”

  “No, not really. I’ve met one or two briefly in business. I couldn’t say I know much about them.”

  “Then you will have to take my word for the great honor that it is to have a Denlenn of the Selen family in your service. Once upon a time, they ruled Denla and the faithfulness of their house is the stuff of many legends.”

  Telisan smiled at his friend and bowed his head. The blade went back to its concealed pocket.

  “Well,” said Fenaday, “that’s settled then. Now to you, Mr. Duna, I’ve read everything on your data-disk, as has Shasti. Most of it is familiar to anyone who was flying at that time. We have nothing new to go on.”

  “I am afraid that it must stay that way,” Duna replied. “My only hope is that whatever inimical force struck my planet has either left, passed away, or relaxed its guard.”

  “You speak as if you think some alien race destroyed Enshar,” Shasti observed. “No trace was seen of any ships or any ground personnel. You know that, Telisan. You were there.”

  “You forget the call from the Flamme,” Telisan reminded her. “There was a call of boarders on ship.”

  Shasti brushed the comment aside with a hand gesture. “Hysteria. Nothing was near the Flamme. Unless you believe someone secreted themselves on board a destroyer escort, light years away... an intruder makes no sense.”

  “But still, the call was made,” the alien insisted.

  “Invisible aliens?” Fenaday smiled.

  “Who can say?” Duna answered. “With all we have seen in the last ten years, is it such an impossibility?”

  “One hopes so,” Shasti said. “How can we kill what we can’t see?”

  “Our only plan then, is to attempt a shuttle landing and see if something tries to kill us,” Fenaday said. “What a lousy situation.”

  “I, of course,” Duna announced, “will go in the shuttle making the attempt.”

  “I shall pilot,” Telisan added.

  “I’ll make those calls, gentlemen,” Fenaday said. “You work for me once we lift ship.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Duna nodded. “It seemed only honorable to offer.”

  “Of course,” Fenaday returned.

  “What do we do now?” Telisan asked.

  “Dessert?” Shasti said.

  Fenaday twisted in his chair, to look at her deadpan face. “Don’t try to tell me that wasn’t a joke.”

  Shasti sighed. “You know I have no sense of humor. I’m simply still hungry.”

  “Hah.” Fenaday turned back to the others, who seemed amused by the unexpected exchange. “What happens next is that we continue to prepare to lift. Keep your bags packed. I plan to lift in five days, but things could develop. Telisan, I need you at the ship immediately, but we can’t risk Duna being on board just yet. It wouldn’t take a genius to connect a suicide mission and Enshar if the crew sees him. Even though I don’t intend to land the Sidhe, or even take her within the so-called ‘zone of death’, we’d lose most of the crew if they learn of our destination.”

  “I do not like leaving you, Belwin,” Telisan said.

  “Go, youngling, go. I’ll be fine. Confederate security should be more than adequate until you come to collect me. I shall be careful.”

  “Very well, but I will see you to your quarters tonight. If I may, Captain?”

  Fenaday nodded.

  They stayed a while longer for Shasti’s dessert. Her legendary sweet tooth, in a gross unfairness, never seemed to deposit an ounce of fat anywhere. Perhaps it was as she said, she simply wasn’t made for obesity. Fenaday suspected her heavy workout schedule helped. He long ago learned never to get between the Olympian and chocolate.

  When she finished, Fenaday drained his coffee and they bade Duna and Telisan good night.

  *****

  After they left, Telisan turned to Duna. “You are not going to tell them?”

  “Tell them what, youngling? The mad musings of a lonely old scholar? I have no shred of proof for this suspicion. It is not even an old story, but the corruption of a story so old even the Enshari have forgotten the tale. How would it help them to know?

  “I do not believe either of them would heed such a warning. You’ve spoken to them both. Do they strike you otherwise?”

  “No. Yet, already I feel my oath bent, if not broken,” Telisan replied distantly, as if in some small pain. “He took me unaware with the request to be his officer and I do not believe that he has any idea what he has asked of me. I saw no honorable way to decline as they have been forced into serving our needs, something I would have stopped if I could. Now I must balance my duty to my captain with the secret we share.”

  “Let them prepare for such enemies as they can imagine,” Duna said. “We will be there if there is anything to my thoughts, not that I have any idea what to do about it.

  “Yes,” Duna continued, “you will find yourself, as you grow older, burdened more and more by the necessity of keeping secrets.”

  “I have already found it so,” Telisan said sadly. “Come, let us go to rest. We begin the final leg of our journey in the morning.”

  Chapter Six

  Telisan appeared outside Sidhe in the bitter cold of early morning. Fenaday met him at the main hatchway. He saluted Fenaday in crisp navy style. “Reporting aboard, sir.” Breath steamed from his breather.

  “Glad to have you aboard, Mr. Telisan,” Fenaday replied, returning the salute. The Denlenn followed him and they resealed the hatch. Fenaday knew the Denlenn had other names, but only his closest family would know those. To others, the Denlenn would be known only as Telisan of the Selen clan.

  Telisan immediately took charge of the thousand details of preparing a starship for deep space. The Denlenn displayed a solid working knowledge of the Conchirri Frigate-leader’s design. Of course, thought Fenaday, he’d attacked enough of them during the war. Fenaday’s opinion of the Denlenn went up a notch after he discovered Telisan had been studying the interior design of the frigate for over a month, since he and Duna settled on Fenaday’s vessel as a candidate for the desperate voyage.

  Since Mandela’s contingent knew of their destination, Fenaday kept them off the ship. After stowing their equipment and belongings, the scientists occupied an entire floor of a nearby hotel, kept under guard by Rigg and his Air Space Assault Team. Fenaday posted Mmok and his various robots, including the HCRs, around the ship’s exterior as guards. He also sent out Shasti’s best Landing Expedition and Assault Force troops: Gunnar, Chan, Connery and the Toks to keep an eye on Mmok.

  Reporters began to catch wind of unusual doings at the port. Telisan and particularly Duna were too well known to escape attention entirely. Apparently the bartender had talked to someone about Duna’s meeting with Fenaday at Luchow’s. Fenaday despised reporters and knew that if word of their destination got through to the regular crew, he would never find enough people to lift ship. Shasti doubled security and referred all calls to Duna. The Enshari’s staff issued innocuous press releases about an archeological dig in the Altair system. Fenaday hoped the ruse would gain him the few days he needed to escape their attention. Mandela wanted the government’s involvement concealed, which meant there was some force, either public or within the government itself, that opposed the expedition.

  Regulars among the crew tried frantically to discover the real destination while they could still jump ship. Money drew back all the people Fe
naday needed, but they remained skittish about the secrecy and his vague warnings of extreme hazards ahead. Of Sidhe’s regular crew, only Fenaday and Shasti knew their destination. Mandela’s people stayed out of reach in the hotel and none of Sidhe’s crew ventured to question Mmok. New crewmembers grilled the old. The veterans knew nothing—but for the sake of their pride—pretended to be in the know.

  *****

  Shasti finished her stowage check in the LEAF bunkroom and walked toward the exit. A few troopers worked on their personal equipment or lounged about. She spotted Gunnar talking with the Morok brothers, Lokashti and Hanshi. She’d finally forgiven Gunnar for abandoning a decent chance at a normal life and coming. She nodded when he waved.

  “Commander Rainhell,” said a voice, “got a minute?”

  Shasti turned to look at a new member of her expeditionary force. His name popped into her memory, Heaton, former Confed marine commando. One of the last people she’d hired as she ran short of time. The barrel-chested man leaned closer than he needed to.

  “What?” she asked. Something about the scent of the man bothered her.

  “How about a break? We’ve been cooped up shipboard for days. Why? What do you say to some liberty?’

  “No,” she replied, annoyed at being asked.

  Heaton’s face darkened. “Then how about some break in this bullshit security. Where are we going? Huh?”

  “You’ll be told what you need to know when you need to know.”

  “This ain’t the real fleet, you know,” he said. “It’s a fucking pirate ship—that’s all. I don’t need to put up with this crap from you people.”

  Shasti studied him and it clicked, the jittery posture, overly bright eyes and the scent, adrenaldust. A common vice among combat troops, the chemical antidote to fear made dusters fierce but unstable.

  She looked at him without expression. “Twenty-days double duty,” she said. “More if you don’t shut up. And you’ve had your last dust on this ship, hophead.” She turned to leave.

  “Damn you, don’t turn your back on me,” Heaton yelled. He grabbed at her. Maybe he was reaching for her arm but his hand closed on her breast instead—hard.

  Shasti spun back and punched. Heaton flew backward but not faster than Shasti. She followed the fist with a kick, hitting him while he was still in the air. The man landed flat on his back. She stood in the center of the bunkroom, waiting. Around her, people scrambled to their feet. Before anyone could intervene, Heaton roared and threw himself at her. She blocked his powerful arms easily, contemptuously parried a kick then stepped into the big man. He grappled, relying on his size and bulk. She pulled him off the floor and threw him into a bulkhead. He clambered back up, shock on his face, finally realizing that he was up against something more than human. She lunged at him, hands moving almost too fast to see.

  In seconds the fight turned into a beating. Shasti’s beautiful face stretched taut in a silent snarl. Heaton collapsed, and she started kicking him to death.

  “Boss, boss,” Gunnar shouted. He, Hanshi and Lokashti rushed up to stop her.

  Shasti flung off all three, but they managed to break her murderous concentration. She paused. Gunnar climbed to his feet, moving between Shasti and the wreck of Heaton.

  “Boss,” he said. “It’s me, Johan. Come on. Look at me. It’s Johan.”

  Shasti stared unblinking at him.

  “Boss,” Hanshi called in Morok, “this dung is nothing. Do not dirty your hands. My brother and I will do this for you.”

  “I need no help,” she growled, but the madness receded from her eyes.

  “Of course not,” Gunnar said. “Of course.”

  “No one touches me like that,” she gritted. “No one. Not ever.”

  Lokashti walked over to Heaton and stirred the bleeding man with a foot. “Certainly not twice,” he said.

  “Leave it to us,” Gunnar said.

  She shook her head. “Fight’s over,” she replied, anger vanishing as if never present. “Call Sickbay. I’ll report to the captain.”

  “No need,” said Fenaday from behind them. He stood in the hatchway. “Heard the donnybrook,” he added.

  She looked down at Heaton, then back at Fenaday.

  Fenaday shrugged. “There’s always one who seems to feel the need to test you on each voyage. We got it out of the way early this time.”

  Shasti nodded stiffly. She suspected that he wasn’t pleased with how she’d handled the situation but wouldn’t reproach her in front of the others.

  “I’ll call Dr. N’deba to the ship,” Fenaday said. “Gunnar, get a med-tech up here.”

  Fenaday looked at Shasti. “Are you all right?”

  The question surprised her. Couldn’t he see she was unhurt? “Yes.”

  “Good,” he replied. “I’ll see you on the bridge later. Get this cleaned up.” He left.

  Shasti looked at Lokashti. “First aid,” she said. “Hanshi,” she added, “get the newbies to clean the deck.” She looked around at the faces in the compartment. “I won’t be so gentle with the next person who crosses me.” People nodded or looked away. No one met her eyes.

  She walked to the hatchway. No one touches me like that, she thought. Never again, never again, never ever again.

  *****

  Hours later Shasti joined Fenaday on the bridge. She was her usual cool, controlled self.

  “N’deba patched up Heaton,” she said. “I arranged with Gandhi to transfer him to a military hospital where he can recover under wraps until we leave.”

  “Good,” Fenaday replied. “I understand Hanshi and Lokashti wanted to cut him up and process him through the waste system.”

  Shasti nodded. The Toks long ago bestowed a nom de guerre on her, ‘Death’s Angel’. The name stuck, and Fenaday knew the Toks would make sure it circulated among the new members, especially the ASATs. Shasti never acknowledged it, but Fenaday suspected it secretly pleased her. The Olympian Assassin had brought the Morok brothers aboard. She had saved their lives on Morokat long before she joined the Sidhe, and they were fanatically loyal to her. He doubted there’d be any repetition of the hospitalized spacer’s mistake.

  “Did you call for me, sir?”

  Fenaday turned to see that Daniel Rigg had entered the bridge. “Yes,” Fenaday replied. He nodded toward Shasti.

  “I’m going to break your squads into fire teams,” Shasti stated. “I want to match one of yours with one of mine to integrate the force.”

  Fenaday expected Sgt. Rigg to protest the dispersion of his ASATs. He didn’t. Rigg simply smiled, as if acknowledging the point scored. He measured both of them with cool, gray eyes, seemingly unconcerned. He gave Shasti a look one reserved for a respected opponent, wary, yet confident. Fenaday would have been happier if Rigg shot his mouth off.

  “That will be all for now,” Shasti said.

  Rigg left without a word.

  “That one is no dumb grunt,” Fenaday said. “Watch him and never turn your back. He believes he can take you.”

  She nodded. “He believes it, but he’ll have to bet his life to find out.”

  “I’m not worried about his life,” Fenaday replied, “there are twenty-four ASATs. I’ve only got one of you.”

  Shasti’s teeth flashed briefly. “I like the odds.”

  *****

  Shasti and Fenaday met with Duna for a late dinner at the Marsport Hilton. Telisan stayed behind in the port office, straightening out details of the initial flight plan to exit Mars’ congested orbit. The evening, like several before it, turned into a working dinner held in the Enshari’s spacious rooms to avoid notice. Shasti perched on the window, staring up at the top of Marsport dome, as Fenaday and Duna reviewed progress on the ship, stores and crew.

  “I received this from my Confederation security this morning,” Duna said. He pressed a switch on the tabletop causing a large viewscreen on the wall to flick on. Shasti left her spot at the window to join them.

  “Here is the latest data o
n Enshar from the Confederate destroyer Quicksilver,” Duna began. “She uploaded the monitoring satellite’s information about six months ago.”

  On the screen the image of the planet’s night side appeared as seen from the satellite.

  “Not much has changed,” continued the Enshari. “At night, less artificial light is seen, as one after another, the power plants go off-line. Cities continue to decay or become infested by wildlife and flora. Massive fires rage unchecked in some cities and forests as some untended device made by my people fails, causing ignition. Most of the derelict shipping has sunk. There is no sign of any intelligent life.”

  “Not at all encouraging,” Fenaday said. Enshar had been abstract to him until now. He felt as if he was looking at his own gravesite.

  “Captain,” Duna said. “It’s evident from what my security tells me that reporters are becoming more suspicious about my stay. We’ve used our cover story as best we can. The ruse seems to be working for now. Should they put two and two together, as you humans say, with the unusual doings at the port and your ship, we could have trouble. Your government’s aid to me is conditioned on the expedition remaining secret. I also fear that others, some from only the best motives, will interfere or seek to cancel our mission.

  “There’s considerable opposition to this trip among your government. Some feel that I am raising my people’s hopes only to dash them. They think our only hope for survival is to forget our homeworld and fear I may bring on the very extinction I seek to fight.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Fenaday said, “that Congress would be glad to find out the government put an eminent scholar into the hands of a privateer under suspicion of criminal activity and sent him on a suicide mission.”

  “Please stop using that expression,” Duna begged, visibly upset even to the humans. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this voyage if I thought there was not at least some chance.”

  Fenaday shrugged. “As you wish.”

  “I think the time has come,” Duna added, “to move me to the ship. I will remain in my cabin until liftoff. Mandela can arrange a story about my going off to a university on Earth, or some such cover.”