by Chris Bunch
He glanced at Wolfe.
‘Guess I oughta kick you in the shins a time or two, eh, since shit always flows downhill, huh?’
The man tightened the black band around his biceps, then pulled the small lanyard. The bell from the ancient ocean-ship Lutine clanged three times through the high-ceilinged, wooden-paneled chamber.
By the third peal, the room was silent.
The man cleared his throat.
‘The Federation exploration ship Trinquier, overdue on planetfall for three weeks, is now considered lost.
‘All Lloyd’s carriers involved with this matter are advised to contact their policies’ beneficiaries.’
Another continuum . . . red spray across the stars, connecting them, holding them, blood-syrup of death, nothing living but a single invader . . .
Joshua Wolfe, between death and life, felt the touch of the alien and pulled back in horror.
The drug Cisco’d shot him with still washed through his system; nothingness clung.
Cisco has the Lumina. I am naked.
Defeat.
No. You had strength before. Find it now. The Lumina gave you nothing but kimu.
Joshua struggled, fell back, floated away once more.
Time passed.
Once more a bit of life came, angry, yammering.
Rouse yourself. Now. There will be no time when we reach Earth. You must strike first.
No. Easier to drift, to drown.
Images came, went, like old-fashioned photographs looked at casually, then cast into a fire, twisting, warping as they vanished:
The corpselike face of an Al’ar, grasping organs blurring through a series of strikes. Then the alien stopped, waited for the young Joshua Wolfe to echo his movements. The Al’ar was named Taen.
. . .
The hissing, invisible kill-barrier in the prison camp, not far from his parents’graves.
. . .
The Al’ar, about to open the scoutship hatch, whirled, but not in time, grasping organs coming up, but late, too late as the death-strike went home. The dirty, ragged boy pulled the corpse away and clambered into the ship, went to the controls.
He sat behind them, stared at their utter alienness, felt fear shake his spine. He forced himself to breathe, as he’d been taught, then remembered all he’d learned, all he’d been told, from any prisoner who’d been inside an Al’ar ship.
Tentatively, he touched a sensor. The hatch behind him slid closed.
He touched two more, and the panel came alive; he felt the shuddering of power behind him.
A cold, hard smile came to Joshua Wolfe’s lips.
. . .
Joshua wore the uniform of a Federation major. Behind him were ranks of soldiers in dress uniform. A general held an open velvet case with a medal inside. His words were ‘highest traditions of the service,’ ‘without regard for his own safety,’ and ‘refused to recognize the severity of his wounds, but insisted on returning to his weapon,’ and so forth.
They had little meaning to Wolfe. All he heard was death and killing.
. . .
Joshua, wearing fighting harness with blaster ready, cat-paced through the empty streets of Sauros’ capital. But there was no one to kill. The Al’ar had gone, utterly vanished.
. . .
The face of the man who called himself Cisco, saying there was yet one more Al’ar, and Joshua was to hunt him down.
. . .
The last Al’ar, blurring out of concealment, striking at Joshua.
Taen.
. . .
The shadows of the Al’ar Guardians, telling him why they’d fled their home-space for Man’s universe, showing him the invader Joshua’s man-mind could only see as a ravening virus, devouring world after world, system after system, jumping across and filling the spaces between them.
. . .
The emptiness in the Al’ar ship where the great Lumina stone had hung before it was stolen by a shadow drenched in blood.
. . .
Taen, as the Chitet bolt took him in the back, slumping in death.
. . .
Death . . . that welcomed.
It would be very easy to let the animal-mechanism shut down. Nothing was ahead but pain under the not-gentle hands and tools of the FI interrogators.
Death.
Defeat.
The red crawl of the ‘virus’ would continue through another galaxy and on and on.
Wolfe stirred.
Can you reach out? Can you find anything? The Al’ar Guardians?
Nothing.
Something came, or rather returned to him. An echo, far worlds distant.
The ur-Lumina he sought?
Nothing once more.
Again. Feel for anger, feel for fear, feel for those who hate you, who want you.
Another flicker, far distant, a man who hated with a white-hot heat, remembering the woman Joshua had freed and returned to her lover, now her husband.
No. Not him. Not Jalon Kakara.
A red-orange sear of flame, stone pinwheeling up as the Occam smashed down from its orbit into a dark gray palace, the frantic yammer of a world whose leader had almost died.
The Chitet.
He felt them.
Looking for Wolfe, looking for the Great Lumina, cult-mind sweeplng, hunting.
Then the drug took him back down into its embrace.
‘This is utterly absurd,’ Cisco said in a near-snarl.
Hastings looked at him coldly. ‘Orders are orders, and these certainly are from an unimpeachable authority.’
‘Sir,’ Cisco began, ‘this makes no sense. We have Wolfe secured. I can’t think of anything anybody’s got that could ruffle the Andrea Doria’s hair. So why the hell are we ordered to divert and transfer him? We’re only, what, half a dozen jumps from Earth now? Utterly no sense whatsoever, ’ he said, ignoring the mindcrawl suggesting a reason.
‘Consider an explanation, mister,’ Hastings said. ‘We’re well within the bounds of the Federation. I hardly think even your Chitet would try to grab him here. We beat them, remember? We drove them away. They aren’t anything to worry about, at least not for us. Once you have your spy debriefed, it’ll be a simple matter for the police to take care of matters.
‘You’re being paranoid, Cisco. I’d rather suspect ComFedNav wants to keep my battle group close to the Outlaw Worlds, rather than have us waste the time and energy to go all the way back to Earth, dump off one man, and then jump back out here.
‘The pickup group specified in the order seems more than large enough to keep a countergrab from happening.’
‘Admiral Hastings,’ Cisco said, ‘you saw what the Chitet had around that fortress. That was a goddamned battleship! ’
‘An old battlecruiser, actually,’ Hastings corrected. ‘I think you’re being a bit hysterical, Cisco. Don’t forget the orders are not just for Wolfe, but for you and your entire team to transfer as well. But I’ll give you this. When we rendezvous with the other ships, if there’s any irregularity, I’ll refuse to turn him - or you - over to them. And I’ll reauthenticate the original orders with ComFedNav right now. Does that satisfy you?’
Hastings glowered at the FI executive.
‘No,’ Cisco said. ‘But that’s the best I’ll get, isn’t it?’
Four ships waited - one frigate, one armed transport, and two sloops - as the Federation battlefleet emerged from the nowhere of N-space.
‘This is the Federation Naval Force Sure Strike,’ came the com from the Andrea Doria. ‘Challenge Quex Silver Six-Way.’
‘Andrea Doria, this is the FNS Planov. Reply Cincinnatus Yang.’
‘That’s the correct response, sir,’ the watch officer reported to the Andrea Doria’s captain. ‘And I checked the Jane’s fiche. That’s the Planov onscreen. Current Nav-Registry still carries her and her escorts as being in commission.’
‘Tell them we’re beginning the transfer,’ the ship’s captain said. She turned to Admiral Hastings. ‘Sir?’
‘I see nothing wrong,’ the admiral said. ‘Cisco?’
The agent’s eyes flickered. ‘There’s nothing apparent, sir,’ he conceded.
‘Do your people have the - package ready?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You may begin the transfer, then,’ Hastings told the ship’s captain.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready, sir,’ the senior FI tech reported to Cisco.
‘Get him on board.’
The tech triggered the antigrav unit, and the bubble stretcher holding Joshua Wolfe lifted off the deck. Two men steered it through the hatch of the Andrea Doria’s shuttle; the other seven men in the FI detachment followed.
Cisco gestured at Admiral Hastings, something like a salute.
‘See you on Earth,’ Hastings said in response, without returning the salute.
Cisco nodded and boarded the boat after his men.
Hastings waited until the shuttle lock slid shut, then he grimaced in distaste to his aide. ‘The air’s better when the spooks are gone,’ he said.
The young blond woman grinned at him. ‘Guess it’s nice Earth’s a decent-sized planet, sir.’
Hastings guffawed and clapped his aide on the back. ‘Let’s get up to the bridge and make sure they’re well on their way.’
The Andrea Doria’s shuttle nosed up to the Planov’s stern, and a cargo lock yawned between its twin drive tubes. A mag-probe touched the shuttle’s nose and drew it inside the transport.
‘We have your ship,’ the com crackled. ‘Unloading.’
Ten minutes passed.
Hastings looked sideways at the Andrea Doria’s captain. ‘Very slow, even if they are unloading flatlanders. Your boat crew needs drill.’
‘They’ll get it, sir,’ the officer said, anger touching her voice. ‘My apologies.’
‘This is the Planov,’ the com said. ‘Loading complete. Stand by.’
The armed transport’s lock opened, and the shuttle slid out, tumbling. There was no sign of its drive activating.
Abruptly the Planov and her three escorts vanished into N-space.
‘Courteous bastards,’ the aide murmured, but Hastings’ attention was on the monitor and the slowly revolving shuttle.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he snapped. ‘Captain! Send a boarding party to the shuttle!’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have them armed!’
The captain’s face flashed surprise for a bare instant. ‘Sir!’
Ten suited men floated around the Andrea Doria’s shuttle. Two hung near the craft’s nose, two near the drive tube. The other four clustered around the airlock. All had heavy blasters clipped to their suits.
‘No external damage to ship,’ the team’s leader, Sergeant Sullivan, reported. ‘No sign of lock damage.’
‘Cleared to enter.’
Two men braced on either side of the lock, weapons ready, while the leader touched the lock door sensor.
The outer lock door slid open.
The leader, with one other man, went inside. ‘Cycling inner lock,’ he reported.
Static snarled, then:
‘Son of a bitch!’
‘Report!’
‘Sorry. This is Sergeant Sullivan. Everyone on board’s dead! Unconscious, anyway!’
‘What about the prisoner? The man in the stretcher?’
‘No stretcher, sir. Wait a minute. One of the women is sitting up, sir. I’ve got my outside pickup on.’
Very faintly the men on the bridge of the Andrea Doria heard:
‘What happened?’
‘Gas . . . They were waiting for us . . . gassed us . . . didn’t give us a . . .’
Then silence. Sullivan’s voice came:
‘She’s passed out, sir.’
‘Well?’ said the woman with alabaster features fine enough for a museum.
‘Pretty standard, Coordinator Kur,’ the medical tech said. ‘They first hit him with Knok-Down, maybe a more concentrated blast than normal. Then they kept him under, almost to the point of needing a life-support system. Suppressing conscious thought, pain, and so forth.’
‘Any damage?’
‘I assume you mean mental. Probably none.’
‘How long to bring him out of it?’
‘Three, perhaps four hours.’
‘Summon me when he’s fully conscious.’
Wolfe opened his eyes slowly. The compartment around him swam, then steadied. He was in a comfortable bed. The air smelled of disinfectant. He felt ship-hum in his bones.
Sitting in a chair beside him was a woman wearing conservative, dark clothes, almost a uniform. She was perhaps five years older than Wolfe, and he found her beautiful, in a chill, forbidding way. Like a statue, he thought.
Behind her stood two men, also wearing dark clothes. Their hair was close-cropped, and they might have been brothers. They each held blasters aimed at Wolfe’s chest.
‘Welcome, Joshua Wolfe,’ the woman said. ‘I am Authority Coordinator Dina Kur. You are now in the hands of the Chitet.’
TWO
Wolfe eyed the two men with guns.
‘Honest, I really appreciate the rescue,’ he said. ‘So you won’t have to shoot me more than once or twice to make sure I’m beholden.’
‘There is no point in facile cleverness,’ Kur said. ‘Let me put it to you clearly. We are aware you seek the stone called the Overlord Stone or Great Lumina, as do we.
‘We consider you our most dangerous enemy, since you have circumvented our plans on several occasions, including the destruction of an entire Chitet mission and its ship on the planet of Trinité; then you severely damaged a patrol cruiser of ours in your escape. We are also aware of your hijacking of the patrol vessel Occam, and using that ship in an attempt to murder our Master Speaker, Matteos Athelstan. Under normal circumstances, you would be immediately put to death for crimes against the Chitet and, ultimately, the future of humanity. But these are not normal times or circumstances.
‘You also, in the company of an Al’ar, purportedly the last Al’ar alive, investigated a certain area where the Great Lumina had been, and where we had set alarms. I was aboard the Udayana, and followed you to the abandoned planetary fortress where you held off our forces until the Federation could arrive. Our cause gained many martyrs that day. What happened to the Al’ar who was with you?’
‘He is . . . gone beyond. Dead,’ Wolfe said.
‘So we assumed, and that made your continued existence, as long as you do not further jeopardize the Chitet, essential, at least for the moment,’ Kur said. ‘He was killed, and you were taken by the Federation. We were informed by reliable sources you were being returned to Earth as a captive, so evidently those you thought to be your friends have changed their positions. Or you have.
‘Regardless, you are going to assist us in our quest, Joshua Wolfe.’
Her voice had remained utterly, inhumanly cold. ‘Our Master Speaker is aboard this vessel to ensure that all goes well, and that we will be successful in recovering the Great Stone the Al’ar called the Overlord Stone.’
‘I am going to help,’ Joshua agreed.
‘Don’t play me for a fool, Joshua Wolfe,’ Kur replied. ‘I’m not going to listen to nonsense about a sudden realization of the truth of our beliefs. We are not on the road to Damascus, nor are there many visions in N-space.’
‘Oh, but I am going to cooperate,’ Wolfe insisted. ‘For I already know how to find the Chitet - sorry, the former Chitet - who murdered eleven men and women and stole the Great Lumina. But I’ll need your resources to recover it.’
Kur stared at him, without blinking. ‘This decision is well beyond me,’ she said. ‘I must consult with Master Speaker Athelstan.’
Wolfe ’freshed, ate, and slept, feeling the last of the drugs wash out of his system. He asked if he could work out, and his request was denied, without explanation.
His guards were changed every hour, and never varied their routine. They sat, eyes fixed on Josh
ua, never answering anything he said, nor volunteering anything of their own.
Two ship-days later, Authority Coordinator Kur returned. With her were three Chitet. Two were men, average looking, calm-expressioned. One wore a close-cropped beard. The third was a small woman who, in another setting, might have been considered quite pretty.
‘Master Speaker Athelstan wishes to speak with you,’ Kur announced. ‘Now, listen closely, Joshua Wolfe.
‘Your life is important to you, I assume. It is also important to us, at least until we have fully exploited you and whatever knowledge you possess.
‘You will continue to be watched by gun-guards such as those who have been with you since your capture. It is known that you’re a master at most forms of combat, armed or otherwise.
‘We have also heard stories which appear preposterous about your other abilities, which I assume you acquired from the Al’ar at one time or another.
‘We can take no chances, Joshua Wolfe, even if it means sacrificing whatever leads you might provide toward the Overlord Stone.
‘These three are an additional safeguard. They are Guide Kristin,’ Kur indicated the woman, ‘and Lucian and Max.’ Lucian was the bearded one. ‘They are among our most highly trained security specialists, and have formerly been assigned to the private bodyguard of Master Speaker Athelstan, so you should respect and be wary of their skills.
‘You do not need to know their family names. Kristin speaks for the team. They have orders to kill you if ordered, and if anything, I repeat anything, appears wrong, to destroy you instantly, without waiting for a command from Master Speaker Athelstan or myself. Remove your tunic, please.’
Joshua obeyed. Kur stepped out of the room again, and returned with a small flat black case.
‘Put your hands in front of you,’ she ordered. ‘Guards, each of you stand to one side, so you have a clear field of fire. If Joshua Wolfe attempts anything, kill him.’
The guards obeyed. Kur took a flesh-colored pouch with thin straps from the case. ‘Turn around,’ she ordered. She touched the object to the base of Joshua’s spine. It felt cold for an instant but quickly warmed. She ran the straps around his waist, touched them together, and they joined seamlessly.
