Chapter 14
Panglor released Alo and got LePiep free of his neck in time to hear Dreznelles 3 Waystation Control come on-com. Tiki chittered excitedly over the general bedlam, and it was hard to tell what anyone was saying.
"QUIET!" Jeebering bellowed, and after that it was easier.
D3 Control wanted to know who the hell they were, why they weren't on the capturing roster, and why they had just narrowly missed colliding with another ship popping out of the field. Panglor listened to the com with a clammy feeling—not only because of the ship they'd just missed, but also because here in the D3 system he was still a criminal—discoveries and alien guest or not.
Jeebering sent D3 Control a telemetry pulse of Deerfield's identity. That kept them happy for a little while, and then they came back, asking for a voice confirmation.
Panglor glanced nervously at Jeebering. Giving no sign of his thoughts, Jeebering keyed the com and stated: "Dreznelles Three Control, this is Deerfield. We confirm, we are Vikken freighter Deerfield, First Mate Tal Jeebering in temporary command. We have returned from the Dreznelles One star system under unusual circumstances, and request escort to the station."
D3 Control came back: "Deerfield, can you give us more information on that, please? We do not copy. Did you say Dreznelles One?"
With a glance at Panglor, Jeebering said, "D3, affirmative. We will tell you everything when we arrive. We have several passengers bearing important scientific information." Panglor held his breath as Jeebering added, "Two of our guests are human, a Pilot Panglor Balef and a Miss Alontelida Castley."
Control responded: "Pilot Panglor Balef, did you say? Wait . . . " Silence ensued for a number of seconds, during which Panglor's face grew numb, and then Control said: "Is that Balef, pilot of the freighter, Fighting Cur?"
"Affirmative," Jeebering said. "His ship was lost in the D1 system. However, he piloted our return. And aboard, as his guest, we have a . . . Mister, I guess . . . Tiki . . . a distinguished representative of the Kili race." For an instant, merriment flashed in his eyes. "We request protective custody for our guests."
D3 Control advised that escort was en route.
"Did you have to tell them we were aboard?" Panglor said uneasily.
Jeebering gazed thoughtfully at Panglor. "It was either now or later. We'll just have to see how things work out." He stared at the screen. "For you—and for my men. I don't know what the psychs will make of my men." His face betrayed apprehension.
* * *
The waystation was the same glittering beehive that had greeted Panglor once before, but it had traveled more than halfway around its sun. Nearly half a standard year had passed here since their departure. Flanked by escort ships, Panglor docked Deerfield in a specially designated mooring, some distance from the commercial traffic. Minutes later, the ship's corridors were aswarm with uniformed officers of the Waystation Authority. Several officials stepped onto the bridge and looked back, as though awaiting someone else.
Soon an older man appeared, flanked by two assistants in government uniforms. He introduced himself as Jonli Bertrecht, Deputy Secretary of the Office of Extrasolar Affairs. After the initial greetings, he formally welcomed Tiki on behalf of the waystation and humanity in general. "Is it true, sir, that you are a member of the race we call 'Kili'?" he asked. "We have found many of the worlds your people once inhabited, and we have sought contact with your people for many years."
Tiki consulted his translator and performed a series of gestures. "As nearly as I can answer, yes," he replied. "I am graciously pleased to greet you, too."
Bertrecht smiled and said, gravely, that he anticipated a long and mutually profitable friendship between his and Tiki's peoples. Tiki blinked and consulted his translator again. "Indeed," he answered, obviously confused. "I trust that your bodies water well, and your tongues do not stick." Suddenly he brightened. "Let me show you now my fine good friends Panglor and Alo and LePiep, who brought me here to this world. They survived discontinuity." He held LePiep up, beaming.
Bertrecht scowled ever so lightly. "Yes. Pilot Balef and Miss Castley, we are sure that you have a great deal to tell us. However, I am afraid that for the time being you will be under the custody of the Waystation Authority." One of the uniformed officers stepped forward as though to take charge.
"Now, wait a minute," Panglor growled. LePiep scrambled from Tiki's arms into his and huddled, radiating displeasure. "We stay with Tiki or we don't go."
Tiki agreed, suddenly becoming agitated. "No, no, yes! They must—"
"Hold it!" Jeebering interrupted. Bertrecht looked at him questioningly. "I am still commanding this ship," Jeebering said. "I told you that these two have important information to offer, and that the Kili is here as their guest, and as mine. Now, will you give them protective custody—in your department—or not?" He gazed sternly at the D3 officials.
Bertrecht met his gaze. "Very well," he said finally. "They will be provided with joint quarters, under the auspices of my department, on my authority." His gaze shifted to Alo, then Panglor. "However, you understand that you will still be required to answer to the Waystation Authority?"
Panglor nodded. You play it straight and we'll play it straight, he thought. Let's all play it straight for once.
Shortly afterward, they boarded a shuttle and flew to the waystation. Panglor felt a variety of emotions at the sight of the gleaming, intricate world: relief, pleasure, apprehension about the future. Alo squeezed his hand, and LePiep gave an encouraging squeak. The shuttle circled the station and docked in a government-restricted sector. They were processed quickly through decontamination, ahead of the Deerfield crew, and conducted to their quarters. Two officials took preliminary statements, and then left them alone.
The quarters were impressive: three adjoining luxury rooms, with a common room in the center dominated by a small decorative pool and sumptuous furnishings. They would be comfortable, all right—except for the locked exits and the guard outside. Tiki looked around thoughtfully. "We are guests of honor, then?"
"Guess you could say that," Panglor sighed. "We're the guests of your honor. If you weren't here, we'd be in the slammer." He wondered gloomily what would happen at the debriefing session, set to begin in six hours, at 0800.
* * *
"Horrrrl," said LePiep, radiating unease.
The buzzer sounded, and almost simultaneously the door paled. Panglor looked up to see a pale, blond-haired man enter, carrying in his right hand a small glass cage. "Pilot Balef?" he said. "My name is Gometz, and I'm from the Office of Extrasolar Affairs."
"Yeah?" Panglor said grouchily. "It's not 0800 yet, it's only 0700. What's that you've got in your hand?" He did not at all like the looks of this man. LePiep hopped into his lap, radiating distrust.
Gometz half-opened his mouth but hesitated, hefting the cage in his hand, before he spoke. "I apologize for the disturbance—and for what I have to tell you. But my orders come to me from the Department of Health, through the Office of Extrasolar Affairs."
"What orders?"
Gometz cleared his throat. "I am afraid that we must take your pet, the ou-ralot, back to the veterinary section for quarantine and examination." Panglor rose, blood rising in his face. "She has been with you to a world of which we know nothing," Gometz continued, "and this is a precaution against any pathogens or viruses—"
"What pathogens or viruses?" asked Alo, entering the room with a yawn.
"Cock-and-bull pathogens and viruses," Panglor said. He glowered at Gometz and held LePiep protectively.
Gometz displayed no emotion. "Please understand, it is a matter of legal necessity," he said, handing Panglor a small plastic card. "That's a health warrant, issued to anyone bringing in an animal without Known Planet Clearance. It was only an oversight, in the confusion, that you weren't served with this on your arrival at de-contamination. But it's necessary now, and we all just hope that it goes smoothly."
Panglor frowned at the warrant. It looked auth
entic and confirmed what Gometz had said. Alo peered over his shoulder and snorted. "If LePiep carried any viruses, why wouldn't we be carrying them too?"
Waving negligently, Gometz said, "You have been cleared. But our scanning procedures for humans are faster than those for animals we see infrequently—such as ou-ralots."
"Aahh," Alo said deprecatingly. Panglor remained silent, thinking.
"I assure you that your ou-ralot will be well cared for—I'll see to it personally." Gometz pointed to the com-console. "Why don't you go ahead and verify that warrant? It might make you feel more comfortable if you confirm its authenticity."
Alo took the card from Panglor and padded over to the console. "Fine thing," she muttered. "Come home and be harassed like this." Panglor watched her, thinking, True—but we're in enough trouble with the law as it is. If this is for real . . .
"Pangly, it checks out," Alo said, frowning, turning from the console.
"According to the computer," Panglor growled, trying not to believe it.
"Yeah, well—but why wouldn't it be right?" said Alo. "I mean what would anyone gain by falsifying it?"
Panglor shrugged and faced Gometz appraisingly. Not that he trusted this joker, but what could he do? He had probably dodged as many laws by now as he was going to get away with. "All right," he said. "But I'm coming down there with you. I want to see where you're taking her."
Gometz cleared his throat. "Ordinarily I would say yes, but the problem is that you have to be at your debriefing in a few minutes and, well, I've been asked to remind you to be there on time. They'll be sticky about it, I'm afraid." At Panglor's scowl, Gometz added, "But please don't worry. Your ou-ralot will be fine. And now . . . " He touched the side of his glass box, and the top swung open.
Panglor hesitated, but saw no alternative. Lifting LePiep carefully, he studied her dark pulsating eyes. "Old friend, you've got to go off for a bit while they check you over. Okay? You be good, and we'll have you back here soon." He looked up at Gometz. "Right?" he said tightly. Gometz turned his palms up.
"Hrruuu," said LePiep, quivering. She seemed uncertain and unhappy, but when she touched Panglor with her emotional radiance, their bond was as secure as ever, and her trust of his actions was complete. She peered at Alo, too, and warbled.
"Okay, bub. See you soon," Panglor whispered. He carried her to the box and set her inside. Then he closed the lid himself. "All right, Gometz," he said rising. "You can take her to the meds now. But I want you to remember this: If anything happens to her, I hold you personally responsible. She comes back safe and happy, or I am going to break your neck. Is that clear?" He glared, his temples pounding.
A spark of emotion lit Gometz's eyes, then faded. He's afraid, Panglor thought. Good. Gometz picked up the cage and walked to the door. "She'll be fine. I'll bring her back just as soon as I can," he said. The door paled before him and opaqued behind him when he was gone.
Panglor turned helplessly to his friends. Tiki had just come into the lounge, and as Panglor was explaining to the Kili what had happened, the buzzer sounded again and the door paled. A guard entered to escort them to their debriefing.
* * *
The debriefing panel consisted of a semicircle of examiners, some in the flesh and some as holacrums, led by an Undersecretary of Extrasolar Affairs, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Barthollo. She introduced the government officials, the Vikken Lines representative, and the scientists on the panel and then said, "We have several purposes in conducting these hearings. First, to learn exactly what happened in the Dreznelles One system, how you met our Kili guest, and how you managed to return. Your preliminary report is astonishing, to say the least—yet you are here, and so is your friend Tiki. We also wish to interview Tiki, of course; but we are honoring his request that we speak with all of you together, at least for now. Finally, and I address this particularly to you, Pilot Balef, there is the matter of certain events in D3 space, culminating in your insertion to the D1 system with Deerfield. That question will be deferred until the end of the inquiry; however, it will not be left unasked." She caught his eye for a moment, then said, "Very well. Let us proceed."
The session lasted all day. Panglor and Alo related everything that had gone before, and answered a multitude of questions. The scientists on the panel listened with skeptical interest to their descriptions of the world they called Dementia, and to their laymen's conclusions that Dementia was a zone of discontinuity in the fabric of space. What prevented outright disbelief, Panglor thought, was their simple presence here—especially Tiki's. The Kili was the sensation of the inquiry, and during the second half of the day, most of the questions were directed to him.
Through it all, Panglor fretted and sweated and wondered what the vet crew was doing to LePiep. He tried to convince himself that LePiep was all right. When they were conducted back to their quarters at the end of the day, he asked the guard if he could be escorted down to the quarantine area. The guard, a young man, said affably enough that he would have to check.
Alo and Tiki were in the other rooms when the door buzzer sounded. Panglor turned, assuming that it was the guard, with an answer. To his surprise, Gometz entered, carrying the glass quarantine cage with LePiep.
Panglor hurried to release her. Gometz stood with both hands in his pockets, a tiny smile at his lips, as Panglor scooped LePiep into his arms. "Babe, how are you doing, bud?" Panglor cried, lifting her to eye level. LePiep muttered uneasily, looking dazed. She radiated groggy confusion and seemed to have trouble focusing her eyes. Panglor turned a hard gaze upon Gometz.
"She's a little woozy from the anesthesia, I think."
"The—"
"Mr. Balef, we must talk," said Gometz. His hand moved in his pocket, and suddenly the air shimmered and they were surrounded by a privacy-shadow, enclosing just the two of them. Panglor glared, but before he could open his mouth, Gometz said, "Now, Balef—the first thing to understand is that if you make any aggressive move toward me, your animal will die. Instantly."
A sick feeling invaded Panglor's stomach. "What are you talking about?" he said slowly.
The smile on Gometz's face was suddenly an atrocious sight against the shimmering privacy-shadow. "Yes, Balef, I'll explain. And you'll listen, won't you? Your brawny threats will be quite ineffectual here. If you will please examine the left side of your animal's neck, tell me what you see."
Panglor scowled as he looked. LePiep squirmed, but he saw enough. "You cut her, you bastard!" he hissed. He edged forward ominously.
"That's far enough, Balef," said Gometz, raising his chin. "My hand is on a trigger." He moved his right hand in his side pocket. "There is a capsule in your animal's neck, containing a dose of 34-cymid. One touch on my trigger, and the capsule releases the poison into her bloodstream." His eyes glinted, meeting Panglor's. "Actually she won't die instantly. Over a period of several minutes, all of it with her in agony, her own enzymes will convert the 34-cymid to a-cymidine. Then she'll die—when the a-cymidine reaches a lethal level."
Panglor was so stunned he scarcely heard the rest. " . . . to know exactly how your animal dies." He suddenly focused on the words. "It doesn't have to happen, Balef. She can live. You simply tell the Waystation Authority, when they ask, that you stole the ship you left in, as the report shows. You make no mention of your employers. In fact, you can't even remember who they were. You stole the ship and you made a run against Deerfield to spite your old employer, Vikken. Anything you might have already told them was a lie."
So. The miserable son of a buggered rat worked for Grakoff-Garikoff. Or . . . what was their name? . . . Barracu Transport. "You want me to protect those bastards?" Panglor answered, laughing coldly, knowing his words held no power. It all made sense now. Garikoff had to cover himself; he could be in deep trouble if the truth came out at the inquest, and the truth was exactly what Panglor intended to tell.
Gometz shrugged. "If you tell the inquest board anything else, the animal dies. If you breathe a word about what
I've just said, she dies. Painfully. Is that what you prefer? I understood that you cared for the animal." Gometz chuckled faintly.
"What proof do I have you're telling the truth?" Panglor said, scowling. Instinctively he held LePiep closer; she was beginning to stir, to become alert, to radiate waves of distress.
"Want to put it to the test?" Gometz said tauntingly. His hand moved again in his pocket.
Panglor silently measured the distance between Gometz and himself, and wondered if he could reach the bloodsucker and squeeze the life out of him before he could press the trigger. It seemed unlikely.
As though reading his thoughts, Gometz said, "Never mind thinking about me." He took his hand out of his pocket and held it out, palm empty. He laughed. "Mr. Garikoff has another trigger, and he's in another part of the station. If I don't return on schedule he'll kill your animal anyway, without another thought. And if you open your mouth at the inquest, she dies for sure. It's your choice." His face was smiling, ugly, and Panglor longed to smash it like a pumpkin.
"How," Panglor said carefully, trying to keep his voice even, "do I know Garikoff really is here at D3, really has a trigger, or that there really is a poison capsule? Or that he won't kill her even if I do keep quiet?" As he spoke, he gently probed LePiep's neck. His fingers passed over a small bump under her skin, just below the ear, near the incision. His hopes vanished.
Gometz shrugged, smiling. "As I said, it's your choice."
Panglor stared, silent and defeated. What choice did he have left but to go along with them for LePiep's sake? "Tell Garikoff I want to see him in person," he said, but it came more as a whine than as a demand. "I want to see him in person, and I want him to assure me personally that he'll leave us alone if I do what he says."
Gometz arched his eyebrows, "I'll ask him, but don't count on it. Now, then . . . " and as he spoke, the privacy-shadow vanished and he stepped back. Nearby, Alo and Tiki were watching in puzzlement. "Remember," Gometz warned. He picked up the empty cage and headed for the door.
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