Stolen Worlds (The Harry Irons Trilogy)

by Thomas Stone

  A guard appeared at the door, holding back a curtain. He beckoned for Harry to enter. When Tringl tried to follow, he was stopped.

  Harry turned and, without a word, took Tringl by the wrist and pulled him along over the protestations of the guard.

  Inside, torches lit the room. Plumes of smoke rose and found their way out through holes in the ceiling. When Harry entered, a hush fell over the room. Harry felt their sense of wonder and, from more than one, a quizzical sense of familiarity.

  Apparently, some kind of celebration was taking place. The band, if you could call it that, stopped playing and, like the others, the musicians stared at the strangers. A few of the Malaaz were interrupted in mid-bite of a pasty substance that was contained in communal bowls strewn haphazardly throughout the room. They stared, hands full of dripping goo and mouths agape as Harry was led to the center of the room.

  There was an especially fat Malaaz male who sat upon a throne atop a raised platform. He wore a gaudy set of jewels in a loose necklace as well as a long skirt. Harry took him to be the Tetrarch.

  Beside him was his consort, an equally fat, cowlike creature so similar to the king that if it hadn't been for her enormous, sagging breasts, there would have been little to tell the girls from the boys. Harry picked up the Tetrarch's mood. It was amused. There was ambition there, as well. The Tetrarch was already sizing up the situation, considering how the newcomer could be used to his advantage. And finally, another thought: did he know of the other, the one who came before?

  It was then Harry noticed the translator held in the hand of the Tetrarch. Such an instrument was hundreds of years ahead of Malaaz understanding. More evidence of Fagen, Harry figured. It was Fagen the Tetrarch referred to in his thoughts. It had to be.

  The Tetrarch motioned toward himself. "I am the great Tetrarch of the Malaaz. Who, or should I say, what are you?" The translator converted the sounds into English.

  "I am a traveler. I come here seeking to establish relations with the Malaaz."

  The leader of the Malaaz wasn't impressed with Harry's offer to become friends.

  "Have you nothing to offer? Do you come with empty hands? I fear I am wasting my time. Tell me what you want and be forthright about it!"

  Harry didn't need to wait for the translator. He heard the thoughts behind the words before the words were spoken, but he pretended to listen as the translator interpreted the Tetrarch's words.

  "I have goods for you, your highness," Harry choked on the epithet, "items that I'm sure you will find useful. Blankets to hold back the cold, sharpened metals for hunting..."

  "Words," interrupted the Tetrarch, "all words. Where are these things?"

  "They are stored in a safe place."

  The consort whispered to the Tetrarch.

  "Why did you not bring them with you?"

  "I did not know of the Tetrarch until a short time ago, otherwise I would have brought gifts."

  For the first time, the consort spoke directly to Harry. "It hasn't heard of the Tetrarch? What nonsense is this? All know of the Tetrarch. The creature lies."

  Harry sighed. Getting cooperation out of the Malaaz was going to be more difficult than he had first imagined.

  "It is the truth," Harry protested.

  "Silence!" bellowed the consort. "What do you know of the truth? That determination is reserved for the great Tetrarch of the Malaaz."

  The Tetrarch laid a hand on his consort's shoulder. She fidgeted, but held her tongue.

  Burke's voice came through Harry's earpiece. "Sounds like it's getting a little rough. Do you want us to come to your aid?"

  "No, not yet," Harry whispered.

  The Tetrarch spoke again. "My warriors tell me you are accompanied by a giant flying insect. I suppose next you'll say the gifts you have are stored in the belly of the beast."

  "That's correct."

  The Tetrarch slapped his stomach and laughed. "Now, how did I know that?"

  The consort answered immediately. "You are the great Tetrarch, you know everything."

  The crowd of Malaaz bellowed and slapped their ample bellies in agreement.

  "Perhaps what you have really come for is your friend. It would be much simpler if you admitted your true reasons."

  "What friend?"

  "Don't trifle with me! You know perfectly well what I mean! You came seeking the other who claims to fly among the stars. He was a liar as well and soon enough will be punished accordingly, he and his companion."

  "What companion? I assure you I know of no other..."

  "Enough! I can see that it will take certain measures to force you to the truth." He motioned to the guards. "Seize him!"

  They moved in from both sides and held Harry by the arms. Harry shrugged them off and pushed them away.

  "I did not come to fight. I came to seek knowledge..."

  The Tetrarch leaned forward. "Knowledge comes at a price. So far, I have received no payment." He jerked his head once and, before Harry could respond, something hard and heavy slammed into the back of his head. Harry saw stars and blacked out.

  *

  He awoke on the floor of a dirty cell with a headache originating from a lump on the back of his head.

  A Malaaz guard sat on a low stool facing Harry. He chewed what appeared to be a root of some alien variety, biting off a piece then churning slowly on it, like a cow chewing its cud. A dribble of ooze escaped from the corner of its mouth as it watched Harry with dull eyes.

  The headset and translator were missing, no doubt taken by the guard. The stunner was gone as well.

  Harry sat up and rested his aching head in his hands. After a moment, he leaned back and checked out the cell. It was then he noticed, in one corner, partially hidden by shadows and obscured by scattered bits of straw, what appeared to be another person.

  On closer inspection, Harry discovered it was Tringl, his newfound friend. The alien was sleeping so soundly, he might as well have been at home in bed. Harry shook him and Tringl groggily opened his eyes.

  "What happened? Why are you in here too?"

  Tringl sighed. "The consort suggested that since I came in with you I should leave with you. Here I am."

  "What does the Tetrarch have in mind?"

  "You'll be fine. He thinks he can use you, but he hasn't figured out how to do it yet."

  "Use me? For what?"

  "Who knows? I'm afraid my life doesn't mean as much."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Since my value is not so high, I'm to be used as a means of amusement to the Tetrarch. I just hope they don't suffocate me. I'd rather be torn limb from limb than to be suffocated."

  "Shut up," someone said from the adjacent cell. In English. "I'm trying to sleep, if you don't mind."

  Harry jumped to his feet and peered between the bars. The blood rushed from his head as he saw who it was. It had been fifteen years, but he still recognized the then-pudgy, now-fat Dr. Barthelme Blane.

  "Hello Harry," he said, "I must say, I'm surprised to see you." He sat up and blinked his eyes. "Didn't see them bring you in." He paused and looked closer. "It is you, isn't it, Harry? I'm not dreaming?"

  "No," said Harry, shaking his head, "you're not dreaming, Bart."

  Bart leaned closer and grasped the bars. "Say," he said, "you wouldn't happen to have something I could plug into, would you? It's been awhile and, I must admit, it's been a little rough..."

  "Still the same old wirehead."

  "I wish you wouldn't call me that. The term has such a negative connotation. Who's your, uh, friend?"

  Harry introduced Bart to Tringl and Tringl went through a greeting ritual, capping it off by asking if it was Blane's friend who was searching for the ghlowstone.

  Bart didn't understand, but Harry did.

  "Where's Fagen?"

  Bart shook his head. "I only wish I knew. The poor bastard's probably dead by now."

  "You're lying."

  "Harry, would I lie to an old friend?"

  "You
did once."

  "That was a long time ago. And I wasn't lying. I haven't seen Fagen in days. Believe me, in here, that's an incredibly long time. The food is practically inedible. Most of it's poisonous. The water's okay only because they boil it. I'll bet I've lost twenty pounds."

  Harry chuckled. "Where?"

  "Don't get personal."

  "Why don't you tell me where Fagen is?"

  Bart sighed and slid down the bars. "I am tired, Harry." From the way Bart looked, Harry could see that the man was fatigued. Harry felt for the soy packets in his pocket. They were still there. Although the Malaaz had taken what they could find, apparently they had not solved the secret of velcro pocket covers.

  Harry fished out a packet, unwrapped it, and gave it to Bart. Bart ate the whole thing in two gulps. Harry gave him another and he savored it for all of five seconds before it too was gone. After sipping from the water bucket, Bart leaned against the bars.

  "How much do you know?" he asked.

  "I know you're here looking for the ghlowstone."

  "Do you know what it is?"

  Harry paused. How much should he tell Blane? Why should he trust him? That was the point. He shouldn't trust him. Blane, like Fagen, was a fugitive from the Braithwaite Corporation. "Not exactly," said Harry.

  "Where's your shuttle?"

  "North of here, about five klicks. Where's your ship? Minerva? Isn't that what you call her?"

  Bart stiffened. "How did you know that? Has something happened to her?"

  "No, no," said Harry, "there was no sign of her. There were local ion trails, but no sign of the ship."

  Blane visibly relaxed. "That's good," he said, "that's the way it's supposed to look."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's on the ground somewhere in support of Fagen. She's electronically cloaked. There's no way you could spot her with your sensors. If something happens to Fagen, she'll fly straight to this pigsty of an alien city and get me out of here. You too, if you're still alive." He leaned closer to Harry. "These bastards play rough, Harry. Since I've been in here, I've seen them kill criminals in exactly four different ways. The first was a unique blend of hanging and beheading where the condemned was hung by his feet and three warriors took turns at his head until they succeeded in severing it from his neck. I was surprised it didn't take longer than it did. The next day, they let me watch another execution, a double execution actually, although both men were killed in the same way. I suppose they were men. It's hard to tell among the Malaaz."

  "So I noticed," said Harry.

  "Anyway, they took these two and staked them out on the ground, tying ropes to their arms and legs. The other ends of the ropes ran through four winches. A rather simple set-up. Gruesome result.

  The third was particularly nasty and I think if they decide to kill me, I'm going to beg them to cut my head off." He looked at Harry. "There's still a chance Minerva could retrieve my brain..."

  "What was the fourth?"

  "The fourth? Oh yeah, sure. They tied a guy's hands and feet together, stuffed a rag into his mouth, and then filled his nose with hot wax. After that, they just let him go and watched him struggle. They got a real kick out of it. The dude lasted a long time too. It was awful."

  "Don't tell Tringl," he said to Blane. "Fagen's gone to find this ghlowstone, hasn't he? You might as well tell me. We've got a fix on the exact location. I could fly straight to the thing. What's taken Fagen so long?"

  "It's not as simple as it looks," said Blane. "There's a field generated by the stone. Your electronics would scramble long before you ever got there."

  "How large is the field?"

  "A little less than twenty kilometers radius."

  "What is it?"

  Blane shrugged. "We don't know for sure, but we are certain that the field is only an ancillary reaction. The real deal is behind some shielding that wouldn't yield to Minerva's sensors." Blane looked apologetic. "Well, she's not perfect, you know."

  "What do you think it is?" Harry asked again.

  Blane's eyes shined. "If I'm right, and you know me, Harry, I usually am, if I'm right, we've found a trapped singularity."

  "That's impossible," said Harry, "there would be no way to contain it, it'd gulp up everything around. Besides, singularities are theories, not fact."

  Blane just smiled.

  "How come you know so much about it?"

  "I'm a genius, remember? But I'll tell you something else, I get identical readings outside Minerva's containment chamber. It's the same thing that powers Minerva. And that's a contained singularity. I know because she's told me all about it. Harry, she's a wonderful woman, the type I'd always dreamed of meeting. I can finally understand why people used to stay married."

  "Geez, it's a ship, Bart."

  "No," he said, shaking his head, "she's much more than that. We're very close. When I'm with her, I feel like we're part of each other. I love her, Harry, and she loves me too. Fagen knows it. Sometimes there're problems."

  "What do you mean?

  "Edward feels left out. He's lonely."

  Chapter 21

  Kathleen could feel it in the halls and corridors of City Two. Something was up, something urgent. Corporation employees hurried about their duties, tight-lipped with worried expressions pasted on their faces. She easily lugged her large travel bag in the low gravity and headed toward her temporary quarters.

  A familiar, female voice floated down the corridor. "Oh Kath'."

  Kathleen stopped and turned. "Hello, Ms. Roan."

  Roan pouted, then said, "Why don't you stop being so stiff and call me Cathy?"

  "We've been talking for no more than ten seconds and already we're covering old ground. What's going on around here?"

  "Where have you been?"

  "Took a few days and went skiing with some of my new crew. We're waiting for assignment..."

  "Then it's true, you haven't heard."

  "Heard what?"

  Roan looked up and down the hall. More people hurried past. "Not here," she said, "let's go to your room. I'll tell you once we're there."

  "If this is another one of your attempts to..."

  "Well," said Roan, batting her eyes, "if I didn't have something to tell you, then it just might be another attempt. Come on, you're safe with me."

  "Oh all right. Come on." Kathleen turned and led Catherine to her room. Upon entering, she tossed the bag onto the bunk and faced Roan.

  "Now?"

  Ms. Roan didn't answer immediately. She pushed the button for the door and it slid shut. Eyeing the furnishings, she said, "a little more spartan than I'd imagined. Still, it's roomy."

  "All right, cut it out. Let's get down to it. What's the buzz about?"

  Roan moved closer. "You know Kath', strong women excite me. I can't help myself. I know you think you're not interested, but you won't know until you try. I'm attractive..." Her hand moved up and began to unbutton her blouse.

  Kathleen reached out and grasped the hand by the wrist. Ms. Roan smiled in surprise.

  "I think you'd better leave."

  "Don't you want to know what's going on?"

  "Not that badly." Kathleen went to the door and opened it. "I'll find out soon enough anyway."

  "Well," Roan shrugged, "can't blame a girl for trying. You don't have to get so frazzled."

  Kathleen stood by the open door and said nothing. People passed by and looked inside.

  "Oh, close the door and I'll tell you."

  Kathleen lifted a forefinger and pointed. "Don't piss me off, Roan." She shut the door.

  "Okay, I don't know how much you know, so I'll just tell you what I've heard. The wormhole's shrinking. Not by much, but enough to establish a great deal of alarm. Officially, nobody is supposed to know, but just about everybody does."

  The news stunned Kathleen. "What about Harry?" she muttered.

  "Oh, I didn't mean to alarm you, dear. They think there's plenty of time for all survey teams to return before, well before
the wormhole blinks out. If it does blink out. That's the worst case scenario. Commander Irons is of special concern, though."

  "Why is that?"

  The intercom buzzed. Kathleen leaned against the wall. "Commander Casey here."

  "Good morning, Commander. My name is Olden Bent, secretary to Stephen Thanapolous. Are you available for a conference with Mr. Thanapolous this afternoon?"

  Kathleen chewed her lip. "Yes, of course. What time?"

  "Shall we say thirteen hundred at our executive offices?"

  "Fine. I'll be there."

  "Thank you, Commander. Good-bye..."

  "One more thing, Mr. Bent."

  "Yes?"

  "What's the nature of this meeting?"

  "That's confidential, Commander, and in any case, I'm sure I don't know."

  "Thank you, Mr. Bent. I'll be there." She hung up the phone. Catherine eyed her and smiled.

  "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, honey."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I've told you too much already. You'll learn the rest soon enough." She opened the door and stepped through. "In case I don't get to see you again, good luck."

  The door shut and Kathleen was alone. She shuddered once before going to the computer. "Computer, access please."

  "Working. Scanning voice print. Positive ID. Proceed."

  "I want to see all the data on the wormhole for the past week."

  "Standby, please."

  A window suddenly formed on her monitor. Inside the window were columns of figures.

  "Computer, these are the raw figures. I want the daily summaries."

  "That information is ineligible for access."

  "Why?"

  "Please restate your question."

  "By whose authority?"

  "The system controller."

  Might as well have said the Braithwaite Corporation, she thought.

  *

  At exactly thirteen hundred hours, Kathleen was shown into Mr. Thanapolous' executive suite. Thanapolous stood with his back to the woman before a wide pressure window that allowed him to look away from Earth into the wide expanse of surrounding space. Stars shined brightly in the background. A shuttle crossed the space in front of the window. Kathleen waited a moment before clearing her throat.