The Fortress in Orion

by Mike Resnick

  “Why not?”

  “If these codes weren’t so hard to break I could have warned you yesterday,” continued Pandora. “The Coalition has entered into a secret agreement with the Voche Empire, which consists of twenty-three systems, including Bortai. It’s been in effect for five Standard days, which means when you ask for landing coordinates they’ll direct us to a military base and intern us.”

  “Okay, it’ll cost us a few extra days, but let’s give this new arm of the Coalition a wide berth.” He checked his navigational computer and had it lay in a course for Belladonna.

  “Belladonna,” said Circe. “That certainly doesn’t sound like an alien world.”

  “Just means it was named by a human and programmed into our maps that way. The Kabori and other races probably call it something else. Anyway, it’s got much the same atmosphere and gravity as Bortai III. Only difference is that this one has a native population, and Bortai was a colony world.”

  “It’ll cost us a few more days, then?” asked Ortega.

  “Not a problem,” replied Pretorius. “No sense getting there before Michkag does.”

  “I wonder . . .” said Pandora.

  “About what?”

  “Is there some advantage to be gained in getting there first?”

  Pretorius considered it for a long moment, then shrugged “There are pluses and minuses either way. If we get there first, we’ll have time to acquaint ourselves with the fortress, to determine the best place to make the switch, to learn the routines of their security forces. But on the other hand, the longer we’re there, the more chance we’ll be discovered.” He paused. “And if he gets there first, at least our target will be there on the ground, but so will all his massive security. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  “Oh, well,” said Pandora with a shrug. “It was an idea.”

  “Keep coming up with them,” said Pretorius. “You never know which improvisation will work, just that the best-laid plans usually fall apart when dealing with alien races and worlds.”

  And though he didn’t know it then, twenty-two hours later they would have a chance to test the truth of that statement.

  6

  “Incoming message,” announced the computer.

  “From a planet?” asked Pretorius.

  “From an approaching ship.”

  “Is it military?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, let me hear the message.”

  There was some brief static, and then a voice in heavily accented Terran said: “Ahoy the ship!”

  “Ahoy?” repeated Pretorius, frowning. “No one’s said ‘Ahoy’ in centuries.”

  “SOS! SOS!” continued the voice. “We have three severely wounded females aboard, and our fuel supplies have become corrupted. May we approach and transfer our sick and wounded to you?”

  Pretorius turned to Circe. “Bullshit?” he asked.

  “They’re way too far away for me to tell,” she replied.

  “I don’t like it,” added Snake. “Females, not women?”

  “The speaker’s clearly not human,” said Ortega. “He’s learned the language the way they teach it in textbooks, not the way we speak it.”

  Pretorius waited to see if anyone else had any comments, and when they remained silent he replied to the signal. “You may approach us. Please state your race, so we can determine the nearest medical facility that can accommodate you.”

  “The females are human.”

  “But you’re not,” noted Pretorius.

  “No, I am a Beldorian.”

  “All right. Disable your weapons and continue approaching.”

  “Thank you.”

  The communication was cut off, and Pretorius waited until the ship got to within ten miles.

  “Are they sending to anyone else?” he asked Pandora.

  She checked her various machines and shook her head.

  He ordered the computer to put the approaching ship on visual.

  “Okay,” he said. “Is that Beldorian?”

  “No,” answered Pandora. “But Beldor is a long way away from here. It’s probably just some local transit service.”

  Pretorius was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. “Okay, direct him to us and make sure any weapons are disabled.”

  “So are we going to take the women back to base?” asked Ortega.

  “There aren’t any women,” replied Pretorius.

  “But he said . . .” began Ortega, and then his voice trailed off.

  Pretorius glanced over at Circe. Can he really be this naive?

  She stared back at him with a knowing grimace.

  “They’re almost here,” announced Pandora.

  Pretorius nodded. “Let’s have a look.”

  A holograph of an approaching ship, a little larger than their own, came to life.

  “Not heavily armed,” reported Ortega.

  “Makes sense,” commented Pretorius. “We’re in No Man’s Land or so close to it as makes no difference, so every ship needs some weaponry—but you don’t want so much that bigger ships, and there are a lot of them, start to covet them.” He studied the ship again. “Still, they’ve got enough to cause trouble.”

  “I take it you don’t believe them,” said Pandora.

  “I get paid for not believing them.”

  “More to the point, he survives by not believing anyone,” added Snake with an amused smile.

  Pretorius turned to Circe. “I think you’d better go to your cabin.”

  “Why?” she said. “If they’re not legitimate, I’ll be able to tell you instantly.”

  “If they’re not legitimate they might enter the ship shooting,” answered Pretorius. “If you sense that they are legit, come on out and join us.” He stared at her. Don’t make me explain in front of the others that you’re the only who can’t take care of yourself in an attack.

  She couldn’t read his mind, but she could read his emotions and his concern, and left for her cabin without another word.

  “You, too,” said Pretorius to the clone. “I don’t want anyone to report that Michkag was seen on a ship in the company of Men.”

  The clone nodded and went to his quarters, while Pretorius turned to Pandora and pointed to the half-dozen miniaturized computers hanging from her belt. “I assume at least one of those is a weapon?”

  She nodded and patted one that rested on her left hip.

  “Have it ready,” he said.

  “You’re sure these guys are enemies?” asked Ortega.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Pretorius. “But my experience tells me that a small nonmilitary ship like ours is definitely at risk anywhere outside the Democracy, and my brain tells me the odds of a ship with three injured human women chancing upon us before contacting anyone else are pretty damned long. So be ready.”

  Ortega shrugged his prosthetic shoulders. “You’re the boss.”

  “Let’s all remember that,” replied Pretorius.

  The approaching ship reached them in another five minutes, docked alongside, and extended an enclosed walkway between the two ships’ airlocks. They requested permission to come aboard.

  Ortega, who was closest to the airlock, turned to Pretorius. “Do I let them in, or should we insist on a visual inspection first?”

  “If they haven’t got three wounded women, they’ll find a way to substitute a holo of them, and we won’t know the difference until we see them,” answered Pretorius. “Let ’em in and keep alert.” He turned to Snake. “Make yourself scarce.”

  She nodded and curled herself up in a near-impossible fashion beneath her seat.

  The airlock door slid into the ship, and suddenly four burly Beldorians, heavily boned and heavily muscled, mildly humanoid in form, entered the ship, weapons in hands.

  “If you want to survive,” said the one who seemed to be their leader, “do exactly as you’re told!”

  Pretorius checked their weapons, saw that they were all computer-operated, and quickly g
lanced at Pandora, who seemed to be fidgeting nervously but was actually manipulating two of the microcomputers she had on her belt.

  “Disarm yourselves, slowly and carefully,” said the leader.

  Pretorius looked at Pandora, who smiled and nodded her head almost imperceptibly.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  The leader turned, aimed his weapon at Pretorius, and pressed the firing mechanism.

  “It tickles,” said Pretorius.

  The other three Beldorians tried firing their weapons, also to no effect.

  “Felix, I think our visitors would like a little exercise,” said Pretorius.

  Ortega grinned and knocked the nearest one senseless with his prosthetic left arm. Then he turned and pointed at the leader—and as he did so, his arm instantly extended almost the length of the bridge, sending the leader flying into a wall where he collapsed with a resounding thud!

  One of the two remaining intruders turned to face Ortega and tried to advance toward him but instead fell on his face, with Snake wrapped like a boneless grapevine around his legs.

  The final Beldorian dropped to one knee. “I surrender,” he said in Terran.

  “And you think we’re going to let you live, do you, Pirate?” asked Ortega.

  The Beldorian turned to Pretorius. “You are the leader,” he said. “Let me live and I will join you, serve you, fight, and even die for you.”

  “We’re not in the pirate business,” replied Pretorius. “We could save a lot of time and trouble by killing you right now.”

  The pirate stared at him for a long moment. “I have offered my fealty once. I will not do so again.”

  “Snake, see if either of the first two is alive,” said Pretorius.

  She checked them out. “They’re breathing,” she said. “I can’t speak for their condition, what might be broken, which innards are still working.”

  “We’re going to kill enough sentient beings before we’re done,” said Pretorius after a moment’s silence. “I don’t see any reason to kill these too.”

  “They’ll report what they’ve seen,” said Ortega.

  Pretorius shook his head. “What have they seen?” he replied. “Pandora, go over to their ship and make sure the controls are responsive to us, or at least that you can make them responsive. Ditto the weaponry. Ortega, go first, just in case they left someone behind.”

  He nodded and walked to the airlock, then crossed over to the other ship, followed by Pandora.

  The Beldorian that Snake had tripped began groaning and tried to sit up.

  “Whack him on the head with the butt of his weapon,” ordered Pretorius. “We’re no match for him physically. If he gets up I’ll have to kill him.”

  She took the weapon from the floor where it lay next to him and cracked him across the front of his skull as he was getting to his feet. He dropped back down without a sound.

  Ortega returned a few minutes later. “Pandora says there’s no problem with the ship or the weaponry. And since she suspects you’re planning on moving us there, she also says that the galley is capable of creating food we can metabolize.”

  “Sounds tasty,” said Pretorius, making a face. “Okay, drag the three unconscious ones into three cabins, pack up any of our effects, and lock them in. Then escort this last one to another cabin and do the same. Have Snake lend a hand.”

  Ortega lifted an unconscious pirate as if he were a baby, slung him over his shoulder, and deposited him in a cabin, then repeated the process twice more. The fourth Beldorian walked to his indicated cabin on his own power.

  “Okay,” said Pretorius. “Felix, move the luggage and whatever else you pulled out of the cabins to the other ship. Snake, get Circe, Djibmet, and the clone, and have them gather their gear and go to the pirate ship.”

  “What about you?” asked Snake.

  “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

  Pretorius went to the control panel, where he jettisoned most of the fuel. Then he set the locks on the cabin doors for forty-eight hours. Finally he permanently limited the radio range to three light-years.

  Then, satisfied that his prisoners could survive but couldn’t cause him any trouble, he entered his new ship, cast his former one adrift, and began planning his next move.

  7

  “Nice ship,” said Pretorius, looking around the interior. “Certainly roomier, more modern galley, better weaponry. And what looks to be a big cargo hold—big enough for our stuff and their booty, with room left over—at least, judging from the outside.” He turned to Pandora. “How’s the navigational computer?”

  “Seems to be fine,” she replied. “Even the chairs are more comfortable.”

  “This thing is Beldorian registry, right?” asked Pretorius.

  “That’s correct,” answered Pandora.

  “How hard will it be to change it?”

  “I can do it,” she replied. “But why bother? We’ll reach Petrus before anyone finds our ship. Well, our former ship.”

  “I’m not worried about them,” he said. “They’re pirates, and the likelihood is that they’ll lie their heads off if anyone in authority comes across them.”

  “Well, then?”

  “The fact that they were still free until a few minutes ago implies they were successful pirates,” answered Pretorius. “That implies that someone—or more likely, a bunch of someones, has a grudge against them and is looking for this ship.”

  “Ah!” she said with a smile. “Okay, what registry do you want?”

  “Something neutral,” suggested Snake.

  Pretorius shook his head. “Not too neutral. We don’t know which neutral planets they’ve pacified in the past month or two. See who’s not in the Coalition but has a most-favored planet trading status with them.”

  Pandora fed the data into her one of her computers. “Moreno II,” she said. “It seems perfect. A former human colony world, broke away centuries ago when we were still the Republic, hasn’t had any contact with the Democracy since it was formed, and exchanged ambassadors with the Coalition.” She smiled. “It gives us an excuse for looking like Men.”

  “Sounds good,” said Pretorius. “Okay, give us a Moreno II registry.”

  “What name would you like?”

  “Something unexceptional and unmemorable.”

  “How about Goodwill?” suggested Ortega.

  Pretorius made a face. “My God, that’s awful.”

  “But it is unexceptional,” noted Circe.

  “And unthreatening,” added Snake.

  Pretorius sighed deeply. “Goodwill it is.” He turned to Djibmet and Michkag. “Have you inspected the galley? Does it meet your needs?”

  “It’ll be fine,” said Djibmet.

  “Good. I’d hate to have to go out and steal another ship.”

  “The navigational computer would like your input,” announced Pandora. “Where do you wish to go?”

  “Let’s finish inspecting this ship first,” replied Pretorius. “Maybe it’ll tell us.”

  “I don’t follow you,” said Circe, frowning.

  “It’s a pirate ship. They have to have some booty locked away somewhere. Let’s make sure it’s not perishable or set to explode if we don’t hit it with the right code every hour or day or whatever.”

  “There are only two secured areas,” announced Snake. “One of the cabins and the panel leading to the cargo hold.”

  “I can batter the door down,” offered Ortega.

  “I don’t doubt it,” replied Pretorius. “But let’s proceed on the assumption that they knew whoever took over the ship could batter it down, and took precautions against that eventuality. Pandora, check it out.”

  “I already did. It’s not a computer lock.”

  “All right,” said Pretorius. “Snake, do your thing.”

  “I’ll have to improvise,” she said heading off to the galley. “The fucking government confiscated my tool kit.”

  She spent a few minutes examining vari
ous eating and cutting implements, walked to the cabin in question with a few of them in her hand, began cursing under her breath when her first few efforts were unsuccessful, and then uttered a victory bellow that seemed like it couldn’t have come from such a small body when the door finally slid into the wall.

  “Okay,” said Pretorius, walking over. “Let’s have a look.”

  The treasure, such as it was, was sorted into jewelry, currency not recognized by the Coalition, art, weaponry, and a few miscellaneous items.

  “Not the most successful pirates I ever saw,” muttered Ortega.

  “Who knows?” said Circe. “Maybe they cashed in a month ago, and this is all from the last few weeks.”

  “All right,” said Pretorius, standing in the doorway, hands on hips. “I hate to do this to the artwork, but we’re going to have to jettison it, as well as any weapons that might be registered and any jewelry that is so unique that it can be identified. Keep the cash until Pandora finds some worlds where we can use it, keep any unregistered weapons that seem to be in working order, and keep any jewelry that’s not unique and is small enough to be carried in a pocket or pouch until we need to use it as a bribe.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” said Snake.

  “Felix, help her with the heavy stuff,” said Pretorius. He gave Circe a look that said And you let me know if anyone pockets anything, and returned to the bridge.

  Within two hours they’d jettisoned anything that could identify them as a pirate ship, found that the galley could make edible but not very appetizing food, and began discussing their options.

  “We have to kill a few weeks,” said Pretorius. “We might as well not approach the Petrus system before we have to.”

  “Why not?” asked Ortega as they sat in the galley, trying not to think of their favorite dishes.

  “Because if anyone stops and inspects us, they’re going to find our Michkag, and even if we convinced them he’s the real thing, that’d only last until the true Michkag shows up. Remember, we’re not here just to insert our Michkag, but to kill or kidnap the best-protected being in the Coalition.”

  “Besides,” added Pandora, “we’re Men, and we’re at war with the Coalition. Even if they didn’t know about our Michkag, they’d have no reason not to blow us out of the ether.”