“Proceed at once to Tomottac, and release your cargo per the specifications of your contract.”
“Very well. Anything else?”
“Report as appropriate.”
“Thank you. Nazzarone out.”
Delightful Childe’s proboscis fluttered in a deep, rumbling sigh. He had no idea why Buttonface had sought out the Nazzarone, but the fact that they were looking for his ship meant nothing but bureaucratic trouble even under the most ordinary circumstances. Now with the bolker shortage and the increasing number of checkdroids taking their places, previous bureaucratic nightmares were beginning to look like the fair days of pleasant dreams.
With a second sigh he flipped on his external viewscreen and looked with dismay and despair at the humans still camped tightly around his ship. Why was it so difficult for them to understand that Nazzarone had to leave and that they would be all right? Why were these humans so fearful and dependent? Was it because they were scientists, unused to coping with the realities of the external world? Or was it because they were humans, so caught up in their me-my-us culture that they dared not think, much less work, beyond their own self-interest?
He decided it was because they were human.
Thus he would have to find a human solution. “Send for Doctor Hachihaguri,” he said into his throatone.”
While he waited for Hachihaguri to come, Delightful Childe contemplated his two navels, wishing at once that his paternal navel were larger and more aesthetically pleasing, and also that his maternal navel had grown just a shade more red over the years. Actually, he admitted to himself, they were fairly acceptable as navels went, but he felt that with a little cosmetic surgery, they could be aesthetically much more pleasing.
He had always secretly believed that one of the reasons he had only had seventeen mates was because his navels were less than totally attractive. Yet Duvvenay had navels that could truly be considered ugly, and Duvvenay had mated fifty or sixty times and was a full decade younger than Delightful Childe.
No, perhaps ugly navels are not the answer, he thought with grim self-honesty. Perhaps I will have to reconsider the idea of commitment to offspring. And of commitment to mates.
Juices bubbled noisily in his gonad string. A gentle shiver shook his body at the dismal thought of commitment. But he had more than enough time to recover his composure before Hachihaguri was announced into the cabin – more than enough time to wonder what life would be like for a year linked to mate and offspring, and more than enough time to become thoroughly depressed by the whole idea as his juices continued to bubble uncontrollably.
“Greetings, Benevolent One,” Hachihaguri said in his normal, cheerful tone.
“Bite dirt,” Delightful Childe barked.
“Pardon, Benevolent One?”
“I said, bite dirt, you stupid human. Then tell your people that this ship is lifting planet at sunrise tomorrow. If they refuse to move by then, they won’t have to worry any more.”
“But, Benevolent One, I –“
“Stop calling me that!” Delightful Childe screamed.
Hachihaguri fell to his knees and covered his ears, his face distorted with intense pain.
“And stop being such a limberneck! Tell your people to move now! And rumble their turshes if they are too slow about it! Do you understand that, Doctor?” he finished in a slightly lower voice.
A quiet whimper escaped Hachihaguri as he looked up at Delightful Childe with tear-filled eyes. Delightful Childe felt only the slightest pang of sympathy, and no remorse for causing Hachihaguri’s painful discomfort. His emotions were still darkly shadowed by thoughts of mates and offspring.
“I understand, Merchant Captain,” Hachihaguri said finally, “but I cannot force them to move.”
“Then they will die, good doctor, and you will be responsible.”
“But, sir –“
“That is all,” Delightful Childe said with an annoyed flick of his seven-fingered hand along the fold of skin just above his bubbling gonads. “Sunrise tomorrow. Tell them. Tell them I will not even check to see if they have moved. Tell them I am leaving whether they have moved or not. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. But what about Captain Teeman and –“
“Tell them, too. No. I will tell them. You will have quite enough to do between now and sunrise.” Delightful Childe felt a twinge of pity for Dr. Hachihaguri, but quickly stifled it. This was no time for pity.
“Now go, Doctor, and take my best wishes with you.”
Hachihaguri rose slowly to his feet and gave Delightful Childe an exaggerated bow. “Our thanks for all your kindness, Merchant Captain. In the annals of charity you will –“
“Your thanks are noted. Good-bye.”
Hachihaguri looked offended, but he bowed again and left the room, much to Delightful Childe’s relief. Humans, he thought with a shuddering sigh. What a dreadful fate to be born human.
Now all he had to do was alert the other two and prepare Nazzarone for departure. He would make sure that the humans had moved, that Hachihaguri had done as instructed before he lifted off, but he wanted nothing more to do with them. For the moment his first priority was to quiet the bubbling of his gonad string before his crew heard its embarrassing noise.
The deftly erotic movements of his fourteen fingers came as naturally to Delightful Childe as years of practice in the solitude of space could make them. Yet his body tensed on the edge of relief, he knew deep inside that sooner or later he would have to mate again – to mate and have offspring.
The vision of himself planetbound came just at the moment of release, and Delightful Childe’s body quivered out of harmony with his mind.
9
ADMIRAL PAJANDCAN READ THE MESSAGE with more than a little dismay. It was bad enough that Stonefield and the Joint Chiefs expected her to defend the system with insufficient ships, personnel and supplies. It was worse that they had stuck her with Dirtsider Dawson, the defensive whiz who seemed to have far more questions than answers. But this – the idiotic directive – this topped everything!
How in the name of suffering humanity was she supposed to “give full and complete attention to resisting the invasion of Reckynop” if she was supposed to defend all of Matthews system? Did they think Dawson was going to perform some miracle and free up the ships she would need to even begin to thwart an invasion? Was that it?
But no. The directive didn’t say anything about Dawson.
Suddenly Pajandcan understood. They were telling her that she was relieved of system defense and responsible only for the planet. Anger and frustration burned in her gut.
She hadn’t made post admiral by being stupid. If they didn’t need her for system defense, then they didn’t need her at all! That was what they were telling her. She wasn’t needed.
With a swift kick and a curse she bounced out of her chair and hit the overhead with feet together, knees flexed. As she pushed off, she tapped a switch on her belt, and the door to her office popped open. Without hesitation she dove through it, past her startled aide, and landed neatly beside her communications chief forty meters away.
“When’s the next window to Nordeen?” she demanded.
He glanced at a digital display and said, “Four hours, Admiral, but –“
“But what?”
“Well, uh, unless you have something really hot to send, we’ve got priority traffic for every second of that window.”
“Oh, it’s hot, Torgy, it’s really hot. But I’ll make it as brief as I can. How about twenty seconds?”
“No problem,” Torgy said sharply.
“Good.”
Since her office was closer to the hub, it took her two jumps to return to her chair. As soon as the door closed behind her, she began drafting her message. Twenty seconds gave her about a thousand words, enough so she could burn tails and collect ashes all in the same burst message.
An hour later she almost had the wording down exactly as she wanted it, when the defense perimeter alarms
went off over her console. She started and thought, so this is it.
Pajandcan immediately switched on the emergency net and scanned the status board. All systems and stations appeared to be responding properly. Pipe jockeys were already launching from the command station. Reckynop’s alert net was on-line. The cruisers Rankin and Gephardt reported battle station preparation commencing. But there was something wrong. It took her a moment to understand what it was, then she switched her viewscreen to Battlecommand.
The face that appeared on the screen was Dawson’s – his face looking perfectly calm and self-satisfied. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Dawson?” she asked as she overrode the channel.
“A test, Admiral. It appears that all systems are functioning properly.”
“A test? A test? Get your ass into my office immediately! No one authorized you to test anything, mister!”
When his face disappeared, she said, “All clear and secure. Repeat. All clear and secure.” Then she slammed off the screen and spun in her chair. A test? What was that damned dirtsider thinking? Didn’t he know what would happen if the perimeter alarms sounded?
That was just it. He probably didn’t know. Maybe that was why he ran the test – to find out. But the arrogant idiot should have gotten her approval first. Or was her reaction part of the test? Now that he was in charge of defense, was that it? Was he trying to put her on the defensive?
“An angry defense is no defense.” Josiah Gilbert’s words echoed in her thoughts as though he had just spoken them. No matter how many parsecs and years separated them, she could still hear his calm voice and steady tone whenever…almost whenever she needed him.
Sometimes she resented that. Sometimes she wished he had never been her friend and mentor, because somewhere in their relationship she had built up a resentment of his calmness, of his patient ability to lead her through a crisis in a carefully measured way. Somewhere in the midst of all that she had broken part of herself away from him and denied his right to contribute to her life.
But whether Pajandcan liked it or not, Josiah had been right too often for her to ignore it. And she knew his words that echoed in her head were right again.
She cursed him for that, then began the slow ritual of calming herself down. When Dawson entered her office thirty minutes later, she was in total control.
“Sit down, Mr. Dawson,” she said quietly, “and explain to me, if you can, why and under whose authority you tested our defense systems? Then tell me why I shouldn’t ship you dirtside until some space tramp can haul you out of here.”
Dawson looked slightly amused. “Same reason for both, Admiral. I was ordered here to be your defense coordinator. How can I coordinate a defense system that I’ve never seen operate?”
“I’ll ask the questions, mister. You stick to answering them. What made you think you had the authority to run that test?”
“The admiral told me I was free to observe all functioning systems. Put it on disk,” he said smugly, holding out the security disk she had authorized for him.
“But that was never meant to include – “
“I thought it was, Admiral.”
Pajandcan looked at him carefully. No matter how impressive his record was, and no matter how hard she tried to like him, there was something about Dawson which irritated the base of her soul. But she was not going to let him get the upper hand in this – not yet, anyway.
“Perhaps you should think again, Mister. Until I receive orders to the contrary, everything within the Matthews system falls under my jurisdiction. Everything – including arrogant civilians who take license where it was never intended.”
“But, Admiral –“
“Hear me out, Dawson. Or pack your kit. Those are the only choices you have at the moment.”
He stared at her with the strange little smile still flickering at the corners of his mouth, then said, “Very well, Admiral. Everything falls under your jurisdiction.”
The repetition of her words, as though he were prompting a child with a lesson, only irritated her further. “Good,” she said slowly, “I’m glad you are beginning to understand. But not only does every thing fall under my jurisdiction, so does every person. That means you, Mister Dawson. In fact, at the moment that especially means you. Is that clear?”
“But of course, Admiral.”
“Then there’s only one more thing you have to understand for now. If you do anything, anything at all which even faintly resembles this test stunt you just pulled, I will ship you out of here so fast that you’ll barely have time to suit up before the vacuum sucks you dry.” She stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to respond. Finally she said, “I’ll take that security disk now.”
“Ah,” he said with his disquieting smile growing again, “I wondered if it wouldn’t come down to that. You can have this one, Admiral,” he said as he handed it to her, “but you may not have this one.” Dawson pulled another security disk from his pocket and put its light chain around his neck.
“Mister,” Pajandcan said quietly, “I can have anything I want. Apparently you weren’t listening very well.”
“Oh, I was, Admiral. I was.” He took the disk off and handed it to her. “You may certainly look at that disk, and you may verify its authenticity as much as you deem necessary, but you may not have it.”
It only took one second for her to recognize the Joint Chiefs seal on the disk, and another second for her tired brain to tell her that there was probably little doubt that it would prove to be valid. On a sudden impulse, she opened the disposal chute at the corner of her desk and dropped both disks in.
Dawson jumped from the chair, then caught himself and slowly sat back down. The smile was gone from his face.
“There, Mr. Dawson. If I may not have that disk, neither may you. That seems fair enough, doesn’t it?”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“Now, Mr. Dawson. Explain to me very carefully on what authority you plan to operate in the future.”
For a long moment he just looked at her with his expression frozen in place. Then slowly, ever so slowly, his smile crept back to the corners of his mouth. “Your authority, Admiral,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, “yours and yours alone. Did I get it right?”
“Indeed you did.” Pajandcan leaned back with her own quiet sense of amusement. “Do you have any more surprises for us, Mr. Dawson? Like more security disks, perhaps?”
“I wish I did.”
“Then you won’t mind if we search you, and your quarters, and your personal gear for something that, uh, might not belong to you?”
Dawson’s smile grew wider. “Not at all, Admiral.”
“Excellent. Now perhaps you would like to explain why you were so eager to test the security systems that you failed to check with me first.”
“It’s fairly straightforward, Admiral. When I was asked to come here, Admiral Stonefield told me that I was to use every opportunity to evaluate –“
Two defense perimeter alarms squawked in concert with a panel of flashing lights.
Pajandcan hesitated for a split second. Dawson again? The look on his face told her no.
“The real thing,” she said as she spun in her chair and flicked on the security net. Again the status board indicated all systems operating according to plans. But again she sensed something wrong. “You again?” she asked, half-turning in Dawson’s direction.
“Not this time, Admiral. Looks like the real thing to me.”
“Looks like it, but it isn’t. Battlecommand,” she said as she turned back to the console, “what is your status?”
“Two unconfirmed neutronic missiles.”
“How can you have unconfirmed neutronics, Zennte?”
“Don’t know, Admiral, but that was the initial report from sector ER-24.”
“I’ll monitor, Captain Zennte.”
“Aye-aye.”
“You stay where you are, Mr. Dawson,” she said quickly when she saw him rise from his
chair. “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t part of your exercise. But if it isn’t, if this is the beginning of the Uke attack, you might as well watch the action from the top. Right?”
Dawson sat back down and nodded, the smile gone from his lips, his brow deeply furrowed with concern, his eyes watching the screen intently.
◊ ◊ ◊
Lucky flopped into bed, bone-weary and angry.
He had returned from the daily hunting trip to discover a Uke rescue ship resting a thousand meters up the hill from Graycloud. A few questions to Dr. Hachihaguri’s people revealed that Marsha and Hachihaguri were both aboard the Uke ship. But after Lucky had dragged his fatigued body up the hill, two armed guards had very rudely turned him away and ordered him to return to the encampment. Their response to his demand to talk to their superior was to order him to drop his pistol.
In the face of two blasters he had done exactly what they told him to, but all the way back down the hill he thought of the things he would liked to have done to them. He even thought about taking one of the rifles and making them do a long distance dance, but he was just too damned tired to make the effort – and too sensible to run the risk, he admitted to himself as he closed his eyes and waited for sleep.
Sleep wouldn’t come. All he could think about was Marsha, and those stupid Uke guards. He had hardly had time to talk to her since Delightful Childe had blasted unceremoniously into space the week before. Hunting had taken every moment of their days from dawn to dusk. When they met each evening aboard Graycloud, neither of them had had energy much more than a cursory meal, a quick cleanse, and sleep.
Every muscle in Lucky’s body ached with the dull pain of overuse. Dirtside was no place for a spacer, especially a dirtside planet like Alexvieux where the gravity was one-point three times what he maintained aboard Graycloud. He was out of shape, totally out of shape for this kind of physical exertion, and longed…to get back into space, he thought, get free of this gravity…free of hunting…free of every day trying to feed Hachihaguri’s people.
Why hadn’t Marsha left word…for him to join them? Or was it because…of course! The war…the damned war. He was from Sondak. They were Ukes. Didn’t matter a dust speck in space that he had helped them…their people.
Double Spiral War Trilogy Page 10
