Pirates of the Thunder

by Jack L. Chalker

  Savaphoong frowned. “This I do not like to hear at all. It knows you, then.”

  “I doubt it, or it would have acted more forcefully. More likely it did a scan of the four of us as it discussed the bait, measuring our blood pressure, heart rates, and other reactions when it brought up certain subjects, and became suspicious. I think the least I can demand is for your people to sweep the area—the lounge, all the places it’s been, and my quarters, to find and destroy any nasty little devices it might have left.”

  “I will tend to it at once. I cannot afford to have such things here.”

  Nagy nodded. “Good. And in light of this, I think it’s time we had a talk about other matters.”

  Savaphoong sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “I gather, then, that reports of the good doctor’s death were overrated. I suspected as much from the start, knowing how cautious and clever he was. But he did not engineer this break, surely. You?” .

  “Uh uh. Strictly independent. We just signed on for the duration because we had little choice.”

  “You realize, then, that I could name my own price just for calling back the Val and confirming its suspicions?”

  “You could—but you won’t. You know as well as I do that any reward from Master System could be very shortlived in these days and times. Still I could guarantee your silence—or the destruction of Halinachi—just by telling you what it’s all about.”

  “Si. When I first hear of this I tell myself, all right, someone escaped. So what? Then I hear they steal this very big ship. Again, so what? They get away. They become freebooters, or they get caught, or they are never heard from again. Why does Master System suddenly want them worse than anything? Then I hear Master System invades Melchior only to find Clayben dead, along with most of the others who count, and all the data banks destroyed. Now I am suspicious. Now I wonder what would be so much of a threat to Master System that it would be worth Clayben’s while to do something like this. It is a simple matter for one of Clayben’s talents and resources to fake one’s own death convincingly enough even for Master System, but why? It must be something so valuable, so dangerous, that it is worth any price. Now my greedy side gets interested, and now you show up only months later. You see?”

  “The real question is—do you want to know?”

  “No. The real question is—can I afford not to know? If that Val was merely suspicious, that is one thing, but if it recognized any of you from its data files, if it has tied you in with all this—well, then, my friend, I am a sitting duck, am I not?”

  Nagy thought a moment. “How many Vals are in this sector?”

  “Two. But one shell through each of the main domes would be enough to destroy all this.”

  “Uh uh. They don’t have what they really want here and they know it. That Val wasn’t going to take us because it would mean breaking the compact with you, and for that it’ll need the highest authority. Tell me straight, Senor Savaphoong—if it gets it, what will you do? If it breaks the compact, do you have the firepower to stop it—and the will, knowing what it would mean?”

  Savaphoong sighed. “Senor Nagy, your brazen appearance here with a Val in port has caused this, but it is a fair question. If I allow it, then I am out of business anyway, am I not? What freebooter would come here after that? Whom do I serve? Vals? They are not interested in what I could provide, and, besides, they are lousy tippers. For the sake of any future or refuge I might have, I would be forced to oppose them, no matter what the cost.”

  Arnold Nagy sighed. “Very well then. If that day should ever come, I can give you refuge. We will need people and we will need experience. If you keep faith with me, then if your back is to the wall we’ll get you out and cut you in. Fair?”

  “As fair as life gets. Tell me true—do you really have a starship that is fourteen kilometers long?”

  “Yes. We call her the Thunder.”

  The boss of Halinachi sighed. “What interesting possibilities that opens up. It has been getting so boring here.” He paused. “But, no. One does not trade all this so easily. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?”

  “I need some information on three colonial worlds. This won’t get you in any trouble—without knowing the objectives it would be impossible to guess. Even knowing the objectives, although it would be dangerous, wouldn’t give you anything you could use yourself.”

  “Which three?”

  “Janipur, Chanchuk, and Matriyeh.”

  Savaphoong gave a low whistle. “Not the most comfortable of places, any one.”

  “I didn’t expect they would be. I need the works on them—people, political organization, leaders, Centers and administrators, you name it. The odds are I’m looking for the chief administrator of each world.”

  “Umph! You really make it difficult on yourself. And the purpose, in general terms?”

  “Grand theft.”

  Savaphoong laughed. “For such a grand and noble purpose, how can I refuse? Very well, you shall have what you require—if I can be assured that our mutual benefactor will continue to supply me with things that I require.”

  “As much as possible under the circumstances. Might I assume that you have an interstellar-capable ship available in times of need?”

  “You may so assume.”

  “Then we should work out a mutual meeting place and a method of signaling. I suspect that if we get away clean this time it is very unlikely that we can return to your fine establishment.”

  Fernando Savaphoong thought for a moment. “The Val prepares to leave within the hour. It will take it two days to reach a subspace relay beacon and report to Master System, and perhaps another day to get the authority one way or another. Of course, it will probably contact its companion ahead of time and establish a surreptitious watch. If you leave before the authority comes, then I am probably in the clear so long as I make no moves showing I know what this is about. There is then no logic in breaking the compact. The one who lurks, though, in the shadows of the planets—it will lock on and attempt to follow, and it has incredible equipment and tenacity. You will probably have to take it out, you know, if you can.”

  “I’m well aware of that. In the meantime, I’ll let you get on with your—delousing—operation here and accumulating the data I need, while I and my companions spend a night or two enjoying your services.” He had a sudden thought. “And I might suggest an additional item of mutual interest to research.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Master System requires fairly large supplies of murylium to manage and maintain its empire. Those mines are almost surely totally automated and nearly impossible to locate, but the shipments surely are not. You need the stuff and so do we.”

  “Even if I could discover such a thing, what good would it do, my friend?”

  “We are interstellar outlaws hunted by all and with absolutely nothing to lose, but we have resources. You give me the routings, and I’ll give you part of the loot.”

  Even Savaphoong looked aghast. “Hijacking a freighter of Master System? You must be joking! It is not possible!”

  “You tell me where, and I’ll show you a thing or two about real piracy.”

  And that made Savaphoong laugh again, long and hard. “You know,” he managed after a moment, “I almost believe you can do this. At least I think you are either mad or the most dangerous group of human beings alive!” He shrugged. “Either way, what do I have to lose but everything?”

  “You know, if I could feel guilt, I’d be feelin’ real guilty about havin’ a good time here while the chief and the rest are stuck back in that primitive hell hole,” Raven noted casually while washing down a fine steak and eggs with fresh coffee. “I really do hate to leave this place.”

  “Well, leaving is going to be the trick that makes us pay the devil’s due,” Arnold Nagy replied. “We have our information and our contacts now, but we also have a real problem. Sabatini, any of your incarnations ever take on a Val ship before?”

 
The strange creature grinned. “Sure. Two at least. Both lost, of course.”

  Nagy glared at him and Raven almost choked on a piece of toast.

  “All right, then,” said the Hungarian who had become the de facto head of the expedition. “It’s something new. I have some of the information we need—enough to get us started. Anybody else have any luck?”

  “I met a man who had been to Janipur,” Warlock said. “He said it was inhabited by a human herd of angry cows, whatever that means. Said we would have to see it to believe it. Still, some things do not change in the universe of Master System. He has seen the chief administrator, who is known for the fancy ring he wears. It is called the Ring of Peace because it bears the likeness of two doves in gold. He also said that the chief administrator is very smart but very brutal. He enjoys strangling people. It is his hobby.”

  “Humph! Yeah, well, who ever said these would be pushovers? Anybody else?”

  “There was a fellow—a colonial, not at all pleasant to look on—who knew of Matriyeh,” Sabatini said. “This fellow was raised Moslem, and he said that Matriyeh surpassed any vision of hell he had ever dreamed. No matter how inhuman he was, he had enough perspective so that I believe he would have said the same thing even if he’d been one of our kind. Certain minerals on Matriyeh are said to grow to enormous proportions, and this fellow was an artist who hoped to trade some technology for some of them to use in his art. The world is supposedly very primitive. He found it impossibly primitive, not at all organized. No Centers, no administrators that he could see at all, and no major rulers above the tribal level. It sounded much like what Master System is said to be considering doing to Earth. He could not imagine a person of power there.”

  Nagy shook his head. “That one’s worse. Bad boys I think we can deal with. I don’t care if they’ve got two heads and five arms and breathe methane, they’re still of human stock and Master System’s origins, and we know their type. Even Master System is obedient, though. The ring has to be held by a person with power, authority—something that makes him or her stand out. Damn it, that’s gonna be a tough one.”

  “The guy barely escaped with his life, let alone his ship. The world is one very nasty place even without the people,” Sabatini added. “That one might be suited for my special talents, but even I can’t work from nothing, and if a primitive, ignorant mind knows nothing of value it can’t help me.”

  “Well, we’ll see. Raven, you get anything at all?”

  “You bet. Two cases of fine Havanas and some very nice little pills. One of ‘em’s called Orgy and you oughtta see what it does. As for information, though—forget it. Except a couple of girls in the lounge knew of a certain world of heat and water by reputation, and they said it was a full-fledged colony. I didn’t like that at all.”

  Nagy nodded. “I don’t like that much myself, but in all that time nobody ever showed up and tossed a spear or shook our hand. You got to figure they’re water breathers. No skin off our nose or theirs if that’s the case.”

  “I dunno. Somebody planted them groves on that other island. I kinda wonder if we’d been able to get over there if they wouldn’t’a popped up and been a little nasty about it. Water breathers don’t grow food on land. They didn’t know much, though—them girls, I mean. Only that it was listed as a colonial settlement, and off limits in general.”

  “I think we better get all the stuff together we can and get back—if we can,” Nagy told them. “Raven, unless something happens, I’m afraid you and Warlock are gonna be strictly passengers in this flight. Sabatini, since you’ve had more experience, so to speak, flying these buckets, I’m gonna let you fly and take the guns myself. It flies like any other good ship, but I know the armament inside and out. If there is a Val up there, waiting for us, it’s gonna be one tough nut to crack, but it won’t know the power or armaments of that ship. It’s a custom illegal job. Get it all together—we might as well roll.”

  Getting out of Halinachi was not quite as complicated as getting in. They turned in their clothing but not their personal prizes, such as Raven’s cigars, and they also received a small encoded master cylinder from Savaphoong. The lord of Halinachi did not see them off—Nagy guessed in any event that midmorning was far too early for the manager of the place to be up and about—but there was a small note attached to the cylinder, which Nagy read.

  “What’s the love letter?” Raven asked, curious.

  “It’s a bill. Somehow he managed to charge the full forty thousand future credits and anything left from this visit. Never mind. Short of using a transmuter and becoming someone completely different, there’s little chance we’ll be able to come back here again anyway.”

  They went to the ship, which appeared secure, all seals intact. Nagy spent some time doing a complete check. “Yeah, as I figured. A bunch of nice bugs and tracking devices all over the damned hull. We’d be another day getting those suckers off ourselves and we don’t have that. The best thing I can do is try to burn ‘em off. Channel the transmuter power from the main engines to the outer hull. They’re designed to withstand the external forces of lift-off and reentry, but they’re not well shielded where they attach to the hull itself. Get in pressure suits and dial your climate control to maximum. This is gonna be nasty. I got to be real careful with this. I don’t want to bum any holes in the hull.”

  When they were ready, he began. The outer hull began to glow red hot, and Nagy had to be very careful not to let any point get too much hotter than the rest or turn white. Shimmering blue electricity played over the ship, inside and out, and after more than fifteen minutes the sounds of very loud banging and terrible random noises came through to them, as if they were in a meteor storm with no deflectors.

  The noises subsided after a while, and the inside fans came on.

  “I think I got ‘em all, but at what price I couldn’t say,” Nagy informed them. “I think it’s best we all keep our suits on, the inside pressure down, and ourselves strapped in until we know. Best we do that during the flight, anyway, just in case a shot penetrates the main cabin.”

  “Great,” Raven grumped. “No cigars. I might go to my grave staring at two cases of unopened Havanas.”

  “I think we’ve cooled down uniformly now, and I’ve got clearance, so strap in and check systems. Sabatini, take her up.”

  The ship shuddered, then roared into life and rose slowly above the landing pad. Only when they were several kilometers in the air did Sabatini angle the nose up, apply full thrust and roll, and take her to escape velocity.

  It was a noisy, bumpy ride out, but it was fast. They cleared the atmosphere in just a few minutes and went into preliminary orbit. Sabatini did a wide scan.

  “Anything?” Nagy asked.

  “Nothing yet, but it could be in near-total power down. The question is more if he has better scanning range than we do. I seem to remember that you were clearly visible in the Thunder’s sights at your maximum fallback position.”

  “They were as good as they needed to be. If we don’t catch sight of him, we’ll try to lead him out. Set a course on chart A-J-8-7-7-2. That’s at a right angle to where we want to go, but it’ll give us some running room. Keep all sensors at maximum and we’ll see if we can pick him up.”

  They were suddenly pressed back in their seats as Sabatini gave maximum thrust from orbital speed. It was a surprise, almost random, move that would have thrown a human pursuer, but the Val was not human and would not waste precious seconds wondering what to do. It might, however, have to quickly adjust and betray itself—or risk losing its prey at the start.

  “Give me a punch as soon as you have the factors lined up,” Nagy instructed. “Duration thirty minutes—the minimum possible on the chart’s vector. We may be able to exit and repunch before he can get out with us.”

  “That’s gonna really strain the power,” Sabatini warned.

  “The transmitter ram needs junk as much as it needs its own power, or there’s nothing to convert. With that h
ouse-cleaning you did, we’re pretty low.”

  “The hell with it! We run dry, we stand and fight as best we can.”

  “Punching.”

  “At least the hull seems to be holding,” Nagy noted as the ship opened its hole and entered. “I got a delicate touch.”

  Any pursuer now would have to match the course, trajectory, and speed perfectly and punch at the exact same spot with the exact same elements in order to give chase. This was not difficult for a Val or any ship programmed to do it. The Val, in fact, would know coming in just exactly where they would emerge, but it could do nothing about it, not even close on its prey, inside a punch. Even Raven realized Nagy’s strategy—if the Val had hung back too far to avoid detection, they could repunch in an infinite number of directions before it could emerge behind them. The only limit was the amount of fuel for conversion taken in by the forward ram and stored. The Val, he suspected, would have been pleasantly surprised if any of its little traps and trackers had survived, but it also knew that the amount of energy expended to get rid of them would limit just how far its prey could run before it caught up.

  “Give me a thirty-two degree right turn on reemergence,” Nagy ordered, “and punch again. Use chart B-H-6-4-4-9.”

  “But there’s no punch points on that chart for thirty hours! We haven’t got the juice to go that long!”

  “Then punch for half the juice we got left and reemerge wherever that is.”

  Sabatini was appalled. “Off the chart?”

  “Yeah, off the chart.”

  The purpose of the charts, other than navigation, was to permit ease of travel. The emergence points were all selected because they had ample density of matter for the rams and yet were clear of any potential problems like radiation fields, suns, neutron stars, and other obstacles. Sabatini’s prior freebooter identity gave him enough confidence to know that the odds of coming out near anything dangerous was next to nothing in the vastness of space; what bothered him was that they stood very good odds of coming out exactly there—next to nothing. Space was never completely empty, but there were vast areas in which it might take years to accumulate enough dust and such to make enough fuel to get them anywhere useful, and they wouldn’t have the juice to punch anywhere else clean.