The Borrega Test

by James Vincett

  “You must come with me! You’re one of the very few people that understand. I need your help!”

  “How did you find it?”

  Beckenbaur stood and started pacing. “I traced Dr. Batista’s research. She had spent most of her career studying minor Harbinger artifacts spread out over the Union. Her research pointed to Anuvi, among other places. I continued her research, and I think I’ve located another one.”

  She stood and looked out of the small porthole at the distant gas giant. “I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

  “The fucking bastards covered everything up! The truth has almost been lost. All of our friends on the Bering, the Marines from the Varano, the Task Force casualties; they all died for nothing if no one knows the truth! People need to know about this!” He paced the floor, his fists clenched, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “I swear I want to kill every one of those…”

  A loud thump sounded at the door, followed instantly by another.

  Beckenbaur motioned for Ferrel to get down. He went to the door and looked at the security monitor. “What the…”

  When he opened the door, he saw Jake pointing a pistol at two guards. The security guards leaned heavily on the walls of the corridor. Krenlar was getting to his feet and shaking his head, and the Tyce boys stood behind him, grinning.

  “Hey, Doc,” Jake said, relieving the second guard of his pistol. He winced when he raised his arms.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Let’s get these guys inside, Doc.” Jake waved the pistols at the guards. “Move!”

  “You should give us one of those pistols, Naki,” one of the twins said.

  “Fuck off! It’s Krenny’s turn! You guys had all the fun last time.” He tossed a pistol to Krenlar.

  Beckenbaur backed into the room. The guards, hands up, slowly followed him. “You’re in deep shit, boy,” one of them said.

  “Shut up!” Jake hissed, moving with the guards and pointing a pistol. Krenlar and the Tyce twins followed and shut the door behind them.

  “What’s going on?” Heather cried. “Who are these people?” Her face turned pale when she saw Krenlar. The alien’s large form filled the room, and his large tail twitched on the floor behind him.

  “You were supposed to call me!” Beckenbaur said.

  “I didn’t want to tip ‘em off, so I left the restaurant. It’s better I called Krenny and the boys for backup, anyway. Looks like these two were sent to round you up, Doc.”

  “What?” Heather said, startled.

  “You must have been followed from Earth,” Beckenbaur said to Heather. “You were the bait to catch me.”

  “Who’s looking for you, Doc?” one of the twins asked.

  “Both of us have been watched by the Union Security Service and the Intelligence Directorate for years,” Beckenbaur replied. He looked at the guards. “There’s a GID Agent on this station, isn’t there?”

  One of the guards was older, with a large gut and a bushy moustache. He sneered. “Good luck gettin’ off station.”

  Beckenbaur looked at the other guard. He was tall, but thin and scrawny, his eyes wide and his mouth quivering. “You two were sent here by the agent,” Beckenbaur asked him. “Right?”

  “Don’t tell him anything,” the fat one said.

  “Yes!” the skinny guard cried. “Yes.”

  “There’s just one?”

  The skinny guard nodded. “Yes! Don’t kill me! Please!”

  Beckenbaur turned to Heather. “This happened to me a few years ago, on Yeven Station, further down the Road.” Beckenbaur said. “I was detained for days, answering their questions.”

  “What do we do now?” Heather said. She held both of her hands at her mouth.

  “I’m sorry to get you into this,” Beckenbaur said to Jake and the others.

  “That’s okay, Doc,” Jake said, “but we need to get back to the ship.”

  “What do we do with these two?” Krenlar asked.

  “Are those blaster pistols?” Beckenbaur asked.

  Jake smiled and nodded. He shot the fat guard. A blue bolt struck the fat man’s chest; he grunted and sprawled on the floor. The skinny guard cried out in terror. Beckenbaur leaned over and felt the fat man’s neck. “He’s still alive.” The skinny guard started to cry.

  “Good one, Naki!” one of the twins said.

  “It was set to non-lethal,” Jake said. “Better to be wanted for assault than murder.” He pointed the pistol at the skinny guard. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor.

  “He fainted!” Krenlar said as the Tyce boys laughed.

  “Works for me!” Jake said, hiding the pistol in his coveralls. “Doc, we gotta get moving.”

  “Get your stuff, Heather,” Beckenbaur said. Heather shoved a bunch of personal effects into a satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

  Krenlar opened the door and moved into the hall and the twins followed. “Clear.” Jake stepped into the hall.

  Beckenbaur took Heather by the hand. “The lizard is Krenlar, the short one is Jake, and the twins are Dylan and Danner. They’re crew on the vessel I hired.”

  They summoned the elevator and rode down to the main floor. Jake tapped his communicator and spoke with Captain Talbot. “She’s kinda pissed,” Jake said, “but we’ll be ready to roll in a few minutes.”

  “Sorry about this,” Beckenbaur apologized again.

  “No sweat, Doc, this sorta thing happens all the time,” Jake said with a smile. “Didn’t I say workin’ for the Cap’m wasn’t boring?”

  Jake led them out of the elevator into the lobby. With a quick look around, they exited the hotel. Many homs milled around the promenade. Beckenbaur and the others kept to the outside edge of the curving promenade, under the balcony, walking swiftly toward the docking boom. Jake took the lead, followed by Beckenbaur and Heather holding hands, then Krenlar and the twins.

  They had almost reached the entrance to the docking boom when they heard a shout. An instant later, a whooping alarm sounded through the station.

  “Shit!” Beckenbaur said. Many in the crowd looked around in confusion.

  “There!” Jake yelled and pointed ahead of them, beyond the entrance to the docking boom. Through the crowd, Beckenbaur saw a tall figure in a long black overcoat and a black peaked cap. Behind the figure stood two security guards in their blue coveralls, black armored vests, and black caps, each hefting a rifle.

  “We’re gonna get shut in!” Krenlar said. The two security guards at the entrance to the docking boom, not twenty meters away, looked up and pulled their pistols.

  Beckenbaur saw Jake stoop a little and run forward several paces, squeezing off two shots at one of the nearby security guards. Both blue bolts hit the guard’s stomach; the man crumpled to the floor. Beckenbaur turned to Heather and shouted, “Run!” He dragged her toward the docking boom. Blue bolts flew from behind them, Krenlar shouting, “I’ll cover you!”

  Beckenbaur saw the people in the promenade scatter or hit the floor; their screams filled his ears. He saw Jake take two more shots at the last standing security guard at the entrance to the boom, but the bolts of energy flew wide. For an instant, Jake moved with Beckenbaur, taking two more shots at the guard, but missed. The guard fired back; Beckenbaur moved against the wall, dragging Heather with him, and Jake stepped to the side. The twins were hard on their heels.

  Just as Beckenbaur reached the entrance to the docking boom, a vicious spray of bolts erupted from behind one of the metal benches almost thirty meters away in the middle of the promenade. The remaining security guard dove for cover. Glass shattered and Beckenbaur heard the bolts hiss and pop as the energy hit the walls. He looked up to see a thick door descending slowly from the ceiling to block the entrance to the docking boom.

  “THEY’RE TRYING TO TRAP US!” one of the twins shouted. “MOVE!”

  Beckenbaur gritted his teeth, stooped low and dragged Heather into the docking boom. The blue bolts screamed an
d hissed by his head, striking the wall of the docking boom with metallic claps.

  Heather screamed and Beckenbaur felt her release her grip. He turned; her left pant leg was smoking and she lay prone on the floor. The bolts of energy hitting the wall above her showered her with sparks. Beckenbaur grabbed both of her hands and dragged her across the floor out of the line of fire just as the Tyce twins ran by and into the docking boom. He pulled her up and over his shoulder, and moved as fast as he could down the docking boom. Several people looked stunned, or huddled on the floor. Beckenbaur just moved by them.

  The twins, Dylan and Danner Tyce, sprinted down the boom and stepped into the Trieste’s airlock. They re-emerged a moment later with large ion pistols. “Don’t worry, Doc,” Dylan said, “we’ve got ya covered.” They pointed the weapons down the boom toward the main hatch.

  “GO! GO! GO!” Jake screamed from behind him. Beckenbaur reached the docking collar and, stooping, stepped through the hatch into the Trieste’s airlock, and laid Heather on the floor. Her face looked contorted with pain, but she was conscious.

  Beckenbaur stepped back and looked down the length of the docking boom. Jake ran down the boom waving his pistol. “C’mon, Krenners!” The Fendl was right behind him. Beckenbaur stepped aside as Jake, Krenlar and the twins entered the ship.

  “We’re in!” Jake said.

  “Copy that,” said Captain Talbot’s voice. “We’re outta here!”

  Beckenbaur felt the floor move and then the ship’s gravity kicked in. He looked at Heather. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  Jake, Krenlar and the twins bolted from the compartment. Beckenbaur helped Heather to her feet; she leaned on his shoulder as they walked aft to the crew quarters. The corridor was cramped, barely wide enough for the two of them. They walked through the crew mess and into the infirmary. Beckenbaur lifted her up and set her down on the examination table. He grabbed a first aid kit.

  Gently, he used a pair of scissors to cut open the pant leg. Heather’s entire left leg below the knee was one large bruise. It was already beginning to swell. “Fuck that hurt!” she hissed.

  “Here,” Beckenbaur gave her a shot. “I gotta talk to the Captain and see what kind of situation we’re in. Okay?”

  Already woozy, Heather nodded and lay back. “I guess I’m coming with you.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Good…” She passed out.

  Beckenbaur stepped back into the mess and climbed a ladder. The Trieste was a small freighter with an arrowhead-shaped operations section to forward and a long rectangular cargo section to aft. The ship’s propulsion, shields, reactor and other systems were located in two nacelles mounted under swept-back wing-like connecting hulls on either side of the ship. The airlock they entered accessed the forward operations section. Beckenbaur poked his head into the command deck, a curved space with several operations stations. Captain Caroline Talbot sat in a large chair in the middle of the command deck. The chair rotated and she looked at Beckenbaur. “I knew you were trouble when I first set eyes on you,” she said with a slight smile. She was in her late forties, with shoulder length brown hair, a smooth complexion and startling green eyes. She was as fit as someone half her age, and Beckenbaur figured she could handle herself in a fight. The chair rotated back to face forward. Both of her hands tapped at the controls on the panel in front of her; the front port became alive with the light of the HUD.

  “Here is Corona Station,” she said. An icon lit up on the front window. “We are here, accelerating as fast as we can. We’ll reach the hyperspace limit of the gas giant in twenty minutes.” Beckenbaur saw the ship icon moving steadily toward an arc drawn across the window.

  “We got a problem, Captain,” one of the command crew said.

  “Show me,” Talbot said. Beckenbaur saw dozens of other icons representing spacecraft scattered across the display. Another brighter ship icon moved from the station icon toward the Trieste.

  “FUCK!” Talbot spat.

  “Incoming message, Captain,” the sensor operator sad.

  “…aiding and abetting fugitives wanted by the Union Security Service. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire on you.”

  Talbot touched her communicator. “Dylan, Danner? Get to the turrets.” She turned and looked at Beckenbaur. “You want to explain this?” Her voice was quiet, but her green eyes smoldered.

  “In ‘33, Dr. Ferrel and I were part of an Exploration Service mission that found an ancient alien artifact in the Naati Neutral Zone.”

  Talbot’s eyebrows rose. “You two were on the Bering?”

  “The GID has been covering up the truth for fifteen years; they don’t want us to talk about it.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “The artifact was destroyed, but for the last twelve years I have been searching for more evidence. I think I may have found some.”

  “What is this evidence?”

  “It points to the location of another similar artifact, but I don’t know exactly where. I need Dr. Ferrel’s help to find the last clue.”

  Talbot looked straight into his eyes. “Is that why you hired me?”

  “Yes. But…”

  “But what?”

  The warning filled the command deck. “This is your last warning. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire. We cannot guarantee your safety or the integrity of your vessel. Respond.”

  “We need to pick up someone on Akaisha,” Beckenbaur said.

  “Akaisha? Do you know what’s happening on Akaisha right now?”

  “Yeah, kind of. After that, I need to go to Yokkaichi Outstation; I have a…meeting I need to attend. After Yokkaichi, you’ll take me to my ultimate destination, but I don’t know where that is right now.”

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t hand you two over to the Imps right now,” she said.

  Beckenbaur sighed. “I own half a percent of Corcannen Metals on Rutana. The price of the stock on the Til-Koring Exchange as of a month ago makes that worth about a hundred and fifty million credits, with dividends of over a million a year.”

  All of the command deck crew turned and looked at him.

  Beckenbaur looked at Talbot. “It’s all yours.”

  “You’re shitting me, little man.”

  “For God’s sake, it’s only money! If you help me with this, it’ll all be yours. You’ll earn every bloody centicredit, believe me. In all likelihood we’re going to die.”

  The command deck crew looked at Talbot.

  Beckenbaur raised his voice. “If you don’t want the job, fine; I’ll pay you a million credits to take me to Akaisha; I’ll find someone there to help me.”

  Captain Talbot looked at her crew. “How many more minutes until we reach the hyperdrive limit?”

  “Fifteen,” the navigator replied.

  She touched her communicator. “Dylan? Danner? You two strapped in on the guns?”

  “Ready to rock!” the twins chimed.

  “Akaisha it is, Dr. Beckenbaur,” she said. “What’s the class of our pursuer?”

  “Gladius,” the sensor operator replied.

  “Nick? Dope it out! I want us to shunt as soon as we reach the hyperdrive limit! Jerrit? I want evasive maneuvering.”

  Talbot turned and looked at Beckenbaur. “A Gladius class; you should be flattered. Some Imp really wants your ass for something.”

  “You have no idea, Captain Talbot.”

  “Range to Gladius?”

  “Eleven thousand klicks and growing,” a crewmember replied. “He won’t catch up in time.”

  “Then he’ll try and take us now,” Talbot growled. “Let’s get a sensor lock. Evasive maneuvers. Dylan and Danner? Do it!”

  “They’ve got sensor lock!” the sensor operator cried.

  The Imperial ship’s icon flashed red. “We got a couple of hits,” Talbot said, “but probably didn’t do any damage. Their shields and armor are too strong. />
  “They’re firing!” A pause. “No hits, Captain.”

  “You’re lucky today, Dr. Beckenbaur,” Talbot said, “It looks like we’ll get away in time, but the Imps are probably transmitting the Trieste’s registration to every star system within a thousand light years. Expect a reception at Akaisha.”

  “Wonderful,” Beckenbaur sighed.

  “Don’t worry,” Talbot smiled, “you’ve got money, and money’s enough.”

  Gavanus

  Arch-Commander Gavanus of the Jureen Bloodline, Lord Commissar of Vallia Sector, stood at the exit door of the Spoor Follower, a Valaxanes class cruiser. With a hiss and a whine, the door opened and lowered slowly, transforming into a steep ramp that led down to the tarmac. A blast of hot air struck Gavanus like a slap; he raised his hands to shield his eyes from the harsh red light of the star just setting on the horizon.

  This place stinks.

  Beside Gavanus stood his aide, Commander Koor, ramrod straight in his new red trousers; newly promoted, Koor’s scent spoke of haughtiness, pride, and conquest. An honor guard of forty soldiers in dented and chipped battle armor, twenty to each side, stood at attention on the tarmac; their scent was of fear.

  Good. At least they know their place.

  His aide, however, needed to learn a little humility. “You will stay here, Commander,” Gavanus said, enforcing his command with the scent of dominance.

  The scent of frustration of filled the air, but Koor remained silent. Gavanus looked at him: the young Naati was tall for his age, his shoulders wider than Gavanus’, the short hair on his face and the back of his hands black as night, his triangular ears not nicked and scarred with lost arguments and battles. Gavanus saw a slight quiver in Koor’s lower lip, the only sign other than his scent that indicated disappointment.

  Gavanus stepped down the ramp and out onto the tarmac, the honor guard motionless. Gavanus almost gagged on the smell in the air; the smell of hundreds of thousands of prisoners performing hard labor, most Naati, but Gavanus detected the exotic scents of several subject races. With a bark, the honor guard turned and escorted him across the tarmac.

  Several large double-domed spacecraft filled the tarmac, hundreds of naked Naati, feet chained, loading bins of ore into the bellies of the freighters. Scattered in the group of prisoners were several guards in battle armor, liberally applying motivation using clubs or shock-rods.