The Voyage of the Star Wolf

by David Gerrold

  Korie stepped through the narrow operations bay—its consoles were all dark—and up onto the Ops deck of the Burke. It was as desolate and empty as the rest of the ship. Two of the stations were alive, but inactive. Brik stepped up onto the deck behind Korie.

  There was a sound from the Bridge above them and they both turned at the same time, their weapons ready—

  It was sitting in the captain’s chair.

  The Morthan Diplomatic Corps

  It was grinning and picking its teeth. Korie couldn’t think of it as a him. Not yet.

  It was bigger than Brik, and darker-colored. It sprawled insolently in the captain’s seat, glowing with a luminous feral quality. Its expression was the insolent sneer of amused superiority.

  It was wearing armor and war-paint and enough jewelry and braid and ornamentation to make a Vegan gambler weep with envy.

  It grinned and picked its teeth. It looked like a three-meter-tall psychotic Cheshire cat.

  And it looked happy to see them.

  Bach and Quilla Zeta stepped up onto the deck, turned and caught sight of what had stopped Korie and Brik so abruptly. They froze too, their weapons pointing.

  The Morthan looked at them, its gaze sliding from one to the other, taking in their stances and their ready weaponry.

  “Mr. Korie?” Hodel’s voice. “Are you all right? Please confirm.”

  “Uh—we’re fine. We’ve just caught the cat who ate the Canary Islands. That’s all.”

  “Say again, please?”

  “A member of the Morthan Diplomatic Corps,” said Brik. “The single most elite class of killers in the Solidarity.”

  “You’re trying to tell us this is bad news, aren’t you?” said Bach.

  “Oh, Mama—” said Zeta. “We really stepped into it this time.”

  “Belay that!” Korie looked up at the Morthan. “Who are you? And where’s the crew of this vessel?”

  The Morthan widened its feral grin. It parted its lips slightly—and belched. Loudly and deliberately.

  Korie was appalled. Bach flinched. The Quilla narrowed her eyes. Only Brik understood. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Without taking his eyes off his enemy, Brik said to Korie, “Morthan ambassadors are the most sophisticated assassins in the Solidarity. Many of them have specialized implants and augments to increase their physical and mental capabilities.”

  The Morthan looked down at the humans with disgust, but he focused his special contempt on Brik. It spoke then, a hissing stream of invective that sounded like a cat fight in a bottle. “Didn’t your fathers ever tell you not to play with your food?”

  Brik smiled right back. “At least I know who my fathers were.”

  “I will pick my teeth with the bones of your friends. You will howl alone on the bloody sand.”

  “What’s he saying?” Korie asked.

  “He’s delighted to see us,” Brik answered.

  Korie gave Brik an incredulous look. Was that a joke? From Brik? Then he made a decision. “Secure it in the Burke’s brig.” He turned away, forced himself to look around the rest of the Operations deck, as if to demonstrate that he wasn’t mesmerized by the monster’s presence. “Captain Hardesty?”

  On the Bridge of the LS-1187, Captain Hardesty and the others were watching the reflected view of the mission team’s helmet cameras. The large forward viewer showed the scene on the Bridge of the Burke.

  “I’m on my way,” Hardesty said.

  “Recommend against that, sir,” came back Korie’s reply. “We’re still locking down over here.”

  “Mr. Korie. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  On the Bridge of the Burke, Korie showed Brik a sour expression.

  Brik said nothing.

  Traps

  It wasn’t often that a liberty ship needed to activate its brig, but the skipper of the Burke had foreseen the possibility that it might be necessary to contain an infuriated Morthan—for its own protection, as well as for the protection of the crew.

  Arranging appropriate accommodations for a Morthan assassin was one thing.

  Getting the creature into them was another.

  And yet . . .

  It went willingly.

  It looked at the heavy-duty weaponry arrayed against it, yawned deliberately, and practically led the way to the brig. The creature’s manner disturbed Korie. It was almost as if it had chosen the brig as its personal accommodation; it definitely did not act as if it considered itself a prisoner.

  There was something wrong here.

  He looked to Brik for explanation, but Brik was as silent as the assassin. He did not speak until the monster was safely installed in the brig of the Burke.

  The brig was a suspended energy cage installed in the ship’s shuttle bay. It hung a meter off the floor and at least five meters from the nearest wall. It touched nothing. Inside the holding frame, it was visible as a shimmering cage of light. The air hummed and fizzed in the wall of brightness. The Morthan assassin stood on the only solid part of the cell, its circular floor, and glowered out at its captors.

  All around the detainment field, technicians were installing robot cameras and weapons. The Morthan would never be unwatched or unguarded.

  Dr. Molly Williger was standing in the basket of a portable lift, scanning the Morthan through the energy fields. Korie, Brik, and Hardesty stood and watched.

  “They thought that was an ambassador?” Hardesty said dryly.

  “They trusted the Morthans. Brik was right. It was a trap.”

  “Correction,” said Brik. “It is still a trap.”

  Korie glanced up at Brik oddly, but Brik showed no inclination to explain. He shrugged and followed Hardesty closer to the detainment cell.

  Hardesty looked up at the Morthan without fear. To Korie, the Morthan still looked amused.

  “Under the Articles of the Covenant,” said Hardesty, “you are entitled to and guaranteed certain protections for your person, your physical and mental well-being. In return for these protections, you must agree to abide by the Articles of the Covenant. Do you so agree? If you are not familiar with the Articles of the Covenant, a copy will be provided.”

  The Morthan chuckled deep in its throat. The sound was nasty and gave Korie an uneasy feeling. “I have no need of your covenant. Your protection and your guarantees are worthless to me.” He glanced sideways at Brik and added, “You are Yicka Mayza-lishta!”*

  Brik snorted. “You call that cursing? My grandmother can do better. And she was human.”

  The assassin narrowed its eyes. “And you brag about it?”

  Hardesty ignored the exchange. “You understand then, that you are forsaking all rights and all claims. You are no longer legally entitled to any protections of your person, your physical or mental well-being.”

  The assassin barely glanced at Hardesty. “Do your worst.”

  Williger finished her scan then and lowered the lift. She snorted contemptuously and looked up at the captain with a truly disgusted expression. “A thousand years of genetic engineering and this is what you get? A nine-foot snot?”

  Hardesty turned away without answering. Korie remained where he was, studying the Morthan. Brik’s words still haunted him. It is still a trap.

  The Morthan snarled down at Williger, a sound like a panther scraping its claws on glass. “It is hard to believe that my people were deliberately evolved from yours.”

  Williger barely glanced up. “How do you think I feel about it? My family still has its pride.”

  “Your family is still sitting in a tree somewhere, picking fleas off each other.”

  This time, Williger let her annoyance show. “Too bad they bred you for looks and not for manners. Now shut up and let me work or I’ll bring up the proctoscope.”

  Abruptly, the Morthan shut up.

  Korie grinned at the doctor. “So that’s how to make a Morthan cooperate. I’ll have to remember that.”

  The answer came from above. “Morthans do not
cooperate with humans. Morthans rule humans.”

  Williger looked up from her clipboard to Korie. “It’s got a big mouth.”

  It leered down at her. “The better to eat you with.” The Morthan assassin grinned and bared its teeth. Korie noticed that Williger’s diagnosis was absolutely correct. The monster had a very big mouth.

  Williger was unfazed. “I just love it when you talk dirty,” she smiled back. She switched off her scanner and stepped over to the captain. Korie followed.

  Hardesty looked at her questioningly.

  She shook her head. “Big mouth. Bad breath. I’ll give you the rest later.” She exited back toward the LS-1187 to run the results of her scan through HARLIE.

  Korie turned to study the Morthan once more. The creature—Korie still couldn’t see it as a him—had turned away from them. It was studying the energy cage around it.

  Could it—?

  No. It couldn’t.

  At least, that was what Korie wanted to believe.

  _____________________

  *Lawyer dung.

  Hard Decisions

  The Bridge of the Burke was coming back to life. The crew of the LS-1187 moved with professional élan. Watching them, Korie had to admit that Hardesty had known what he was doing when he had ordered them to rebuild the LS-1187. The crew had brought the Burke’s sensory network back online quicker than Korie would have thought possible.

  Unless—the Morthan had deliberately not damaged it . . . for reasons of its own.

  Korie shoved the thought aside. It troubled him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Not yet.

  Tor was just seating herself at the Burke’s display table; the display was dark and had a thin layer of dust on its top surface. Leen and Hodel pulled up chairs, as well as one of the Quillas. Hardesty, Korie, and Brik joined them. Williger came in a moment later and took a place at the forward end of the table.

  Hardesty looked to Korie first. “You first, Mr. Korie.”

  Korie looked at his notes—not because he needed too, but because it was reassuring to do so. He took a breath. “The Burke was outfitted with three ultra-high-cycle envelope fluctuators for this mission, giving her a state-of-the-art stardrive and making her nearly twice as fast as any ship the Morthan Solidarity can build. The assumption was that her enhanced stardrive would allow her to travel through Morthan space without fear of interception.

  “She was sent into the Morthan sphere to pick up an ambassador supposedly carrying a new peace initiative. It is now clear that the alleged envoy was in fact a trained assassin, whose mission was to kill the crew and disable the Burke.”

  He concluded his comments and laid his clipboard down on the dead display table.

  “And . . .?” prompted Hardesty.

  “It’s obvious,” Korie said. “It’s the enhanced stardrive; that’s what they want. The whole point of the phony peace initiative was to get an assassin onto this ship—because they couldn’t catch her any other way.”

  Hardesty looked at Korie, mildly impressed. “Yes. That’s how I read it too.” He glanced over at his security officer. “Your analysis of the situation was correct.”

  “There was nothing to analyze,” Brik corrected his captain. “A Morthan is a treacherous liar. Whatever else is true about a Morthan is irrelevant.”

  Korie was honestly curious. “Does that apply to you too, Brik?” he asked.

  “A Morthan can only reveal his true nature through his actions,” Brik explained, then he added thoughtfully, “The assassin should not have allowed us to capture him so easily. There is more to this that we still have not yet realized.”

  Hardesty looked down to the end of the table. “Dr. Williger?”

  “That thing in the brig is named Esker Cinnabar and it registers 132 on the Skotak Viability scale. Preliminary scan shows significant micro-biotechnical implants and augments bringing his Skotak rating up to 390. Or more.” To Hodel’s curious look, she clarified, “75 to 80 is normal for a human.” Turning back to Hardesty, she continued, “This is one big ugly mother. Mean. Strong. Nasty. Don’t get him angry.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Hardesty said.

  Tor spoke up then. “Why did he have to dismantle the Burke’s brain?”

  “I can answer that,” said Brik. “The Burke’s brain would not have allowed the Morthan to take over the ship. It would have fought him; he knew it; therefore the brain had to be disabled. That was probably the first thing the assassin did.”

  “But without a brain, the Burke is helpless,” Tor said. “He can’t take her home. He can’t do anything with her.”

  Hardesty smiled knowingly. “Mr. Korie? Have you figured that part out yet?”

  “A Morthan heavy-duty battle-cruiser,” Korie replied calmly. “She follows the Burke as fast as she can. She can’t catch up, of course—not until the assassin disables the Burke. Then it’s a simple matter of retrieval. Cinnabar tears up the brain, kills the crew, then sits and waits for the heavy cruiser to arrive. Unfortunately, we showed up first.

  “Why didn’t Cinnabar attack us? Probably, he didn’t want to risk damage to the Burke. And that’s why he surrendered peacefully. When the cruiser arrives, they’ll capture both ships—at least, that’s got to be his expectation. The Morthans install a new brain in here and . . . bye-bye Burke. Bye-bye Alliance.”

  Brik rumbled deep in his chest. It was a ruminative sound.

  “Comment, Brik?”

  “You are assuming that they did not expect the Burke to be meeting another ship. I’m certain that it was considered in their contingency planning. It would be in ours. That’s why I said there is more to this than we have realized.”

  “You might be right—” Abruptly, Korie realized something. “If our intelligence is correct, the only ship they have in this area capable of that kind of operation is—the Dragon Lord.”

  “Oh, no—” groaned Hodel. “Not the Dragon Lord again.”

  Tor’s reaction was more professional. She tapped at her clipboard for a moment. “My best projection is that the Dragon Lord would have to be at least two, maybe six days away.”

  “I make it two days, maximum,” said Hardesty. “Mr. Leen—how long to bring the Burke back online?”

  Leen shook his head sadly. “Without the brain, we can’t run even the simplest Systems Analysis checks. It’ll take us days to reassemble it—that’s assuming we can.” He shrugged. “I might be able to jury-rig a replacement from our stores—but I don’t know that’d be any faster. We’re better off going on manual.” He shrugged again, this time even more disconsolately. “A week—and even that’s a guess.”

  Korie shook his head. “No. We don’t have the time. We’re too close to the Morthan sphere.”

  Tor agreed with Korie. She knew what he was implying. “We’ll have to scuttle her—”

  “God, I hate to lose those high-cycle fluctuators . . .” Korie said, wistfully.

  Hodel looked around the Bridge of the Burke with real disappointment. “We can’t salvage anything?”

  “Count on it,” said Brik. “The Morthan has booby-trapped her.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Hodel. “I mean, okay—he’s probably booby-trapped her, but—”

  “Not probably,” said Brik. “There is no room for chance in a Morthan scenario.” He looked to Korie. “The fact that an Alliance ship might make contact with the Burke before the Dragon Lord has been allowed for. Therefore, there are parts of the trap that are aimed at us.”

  “Right,” said Williger. “That’s my question. If the Burke couldn’t hold that monster, can we?”

  “We have to,” remarked Hardesty. “I don’t like the alternative.”

  Korie was playing with an idea. He steepled his fingers in front of himself and said softly, “Y’know, we could—this is just an idea—strip those fluctuators off the Burke in . . . oh, less than eighteen hours. I can run one crew, Chief Leen can run the other. Hodel and Jonesy can handle the third.” He looked
around the table, meeting their eyes. They looked interested. “Look, if the Dragon Lord shows up, we’ll have at least two or three minutes warning. That’s enough time to blow the Burke and scramble, and we haven’t lost anything; but otherwise—well, we still scuttle her, but this way we get to keep the high-cycles.”

  “I like it,” said Tor. “Especially the part about keeping the super-stardrive.”

  “If I were the assassin,” said Brik, “that’s the first thing I’d booby-trap . . .”

  “Obviously,” said Korie. “So we break ’em down and run a full suite of integrity checks before we put ’em online, but at least we can pull the units out of their housings and transfer them.”

  Hardesty cleared his throat. They all fell silent. “Mr. Korie, there is an inaccurate assumption in your analysis. I’m not giving up the Burke.” He added sharply, “And you shouldn’t either. You want a ship. Let’s bring this one home.”

  “Her integrity’s been breached,” said Korie. “We don’t have the resources to decontaminate her.”

  Hardesty’s expression was immobile. “Do you know how much a liberty ship costs the Alliance?”

  “Is that the deciding factor? The cost? What’s at stake here is more than one ship—”

  “But if you could save that ship, would you?”

  “It’s not that simple, sir. It’s a question of what’s possible under the circumstances. Trying to save her is the third best option. The risk—”

  Hardesty’s tone was suddenly icy. “You’re arguing for your limits, Mr. Korie. I thought we broke you of that bad habit.”

  Korie shut up. When the captain used that tone, the argument was already lost. He sighed. “Yes, sir. You’re right. I would like to save that ship—if we could. That I have expressed my doubts is part of my responsibility as your exec to advise you to the best of my ability.”

  “Your advice has been noted,” said the captain. “Now, let’s go to work.” He looked around the table at his officers. “We are going to save the Burke. It is important for this ship and this crew to come home with a victory. Saving the Burke will be a good start.