Interim: On the run from the Galactic FTL Police

by P. K. Lentz

  The Fleet communiqué had included full specs on the fugitive vessel. Jagr moved now to retrieve those. At the same time he keyed a system request for a full-spectrum scan of Maseilya.

  ***

  Kearn didn’t bother to try explaining Lisset to his freshly revived senior crew. Instead he simply escorted them into the guest quarters to let them lay eyes on the girl personally. Ilias and Thorien recognized her immediately as Star of Beshaan’s lone survivor, leaving Aprile in the now-recurring role of lone skeptic.

  “You’ve all gone mad, haven’t you?” she said calmly, only half-joking. “I knew this would happen one day. If you’re planning to shove me out an airlock and replace me with a goldfish, you may as well just get it over with now. Shit, with a name like Lady of Chaos I really should have known better.”

  “Aprile, this ship is named for her,” Kearn pointed out, as if it were relevant. “Sort of.”

  Aprile shrugged off the perceived affront to her sanity and departed abruptly for another part of the asylum.

  Since lapsing into that state some sixty hours ago, Lisset had remained in deathlike catatonia. After a few failed attempts, Kearn and Zerouali had abandoned efforts to wake her. Still, Zerouali maintained a constant watch on her, awaiting fresh sign of life.

  Meanwhile Zerouali herself had grown more distant. She had taken her meals alone, even during the time in which she and Kearn had been the only two conscious humans on Lady. She never actually told Kearn that his presence was unwelcome, but her cool silence made it apparent. Kearn didn’t take offense, nor did he pressure her; rather he just let her have the space she suddenly seemed to desire. It seemed ironic that just when he no longer dreaded sharing a room with the woman, she switched on her defenses. Then again, maybe it was only natural. At any rate, Kearn had plenty to do preparing for their imminent arrival at Ona.

  He buried the ship’s old registry and logs, and Lady became Maseilya. Each of her senior crew likewise received a fresh alias.

  They managed to establish communication with the Onari authorities. The short voyage had not afforded sufficient time to imprint the Onari language, and as a result all communication had to rely on Lady’s translation routines. These were serviceable, although the recipients were liable to get a few laughs--and hopefully not bitter offense--from its lack of nuance.

  Several days, filled mostly by transmission delay, passed before a deal was reached. From the small station in the hab module, Kearn commed the details to Aprile.

  “In twenty hours we’ll enter Onari orbit and unload the agreed mix of tech, trinkets and biosamples. Then it’s off to the antimatter station on the far side of their gas giant. Couldn’t be any simpler.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” Kearn disengaged his comm and stepped out into the corridor. Such simple movements were becoming more difficult as the force of Lady’s increasing deceleration under thrust and magsail slowly overcame the hab module’s ability to compensate. In a few hours, conscious passengers and crew would enter grav couches for the more vigorous braking to come.

  Kearn was at the door to his quarters when his comm chimed. It was Lady--Maseilya, he reminded himself--announcing an incoming transmission from the vicinity of Ona. Language: Commonwealth Standard. Signature: Interim.

  Kearn cursed aloud and scrambled into his quarters, managing to whack his knee on some furniture as he momentarily forgot to account for decel. Cursing all over again, he hobbled to his comm panel and cued the incoming message.

  Attention civilian freighter Lady of Chaos approaching under false registration Maseilya. This is Associate Director Liam Jagr, Interim Directorate of Instruction and Guidance, Ona Commission. Your vessel is wanted for harboring known fugitives, unlawful possession of a translight drive, and terrorist activities. Our station has standing orders to report your presence immediately for detention, or, failing that, to destroy you.

  Now Kearn flew into an unbroken stream of obscenities. Things had been going so well. Relatively speaking, of course. Yet something didn’t seem right here. Why the warning before Lady even reached Ona? Why sacrifice the advantage of surprise?

  However, the communiqué continued, answering Kearn’s doubts, as the only Interim representative in this system currently aware of your presence, I may be prepared to accept an arrangement that facilitates your safe passage. I require a service to be performed on the surface of Ona. If you refuse it, your vessel will be disabled and quarantined here until such time as you can be apprehended. Complete the service, however, and your vessel will be permitted to refuel and embark.

  From the quantity of fuel you have requested, it appears that your situation is desperate. If you feel that the deal I offer is unfair or inappropriate you are welcome to register a complaint. Should you choose to accept, though, please review the attached details. I hope that some among your crew may be suited to the task I require.

  You may not contact me for any reason, else the arrangement is void. Good luck.

  Fresh out of expletives, Kearn sank against the comm panel. A short time later, hot and twitching with anger, he reviewed the attached instructions.

  He commed Aprile. “I don’t know how to break this to you,” he said. “But we’re fucked. Again.”

  ***

  “When did we become terrorists?”

  “It’s news to me, too,” Kearn said in reply to Aprile’s incredulous question. He was addressing the members of Lady’s senior crew, plus Zerouali, in the conference chamber. “At any rate, the mission specs are in front of you. This Jagr guy wants us to rescue an Onari woman slated for execution. If we refuse we’re looking at a very slow century-plus haul to the next inhabited system--which we would never reach without being intercepted. So I don’t see that we have much choice but to accept.”

  “What about Demon Drive?” Aprile asked.

  Kearn shook his head. “Our fuel can’t power a jump of more than a light year. It would only delay Fleet’s finding us.”

  “And what are our chances of pulling off the rescue?”

  “Honestly?” He heaved another deep sigh. “Next to nil. I’d almost rather pluck out my own eyeballs than make the suggestion I’m about to make, but given the circumstances--”

  “No!” Aprile interjected hopelessly.

  “I’m afraid so. We have two trained commandos aboard. We’ll have to consider using them.”

  “One of them is short an arm,” Aprile argued, “and anyway, what makes you think they’d agree? Fyat is going to be plenty pissed when he finds out we already tried to screw him over. Let him rot!”

  Kearn wasn’t pleased to have to defend his idea, which represented merely the least ugly of several ugly alternatives. “All I know is that I don’t particularly want to risk the lives of my crew on a job better suited to killers.”

  “This Jagr is bullshitting us,” Aprile said. “Getting us to do his dirty work. Once the deed’s done, he’ll sell us out.”

  “That’s possible. But the last part of his plan calls for us to take him out-system with us, presumably so he won’t be shot for treason.”

  “I’d say the same thing in his position.”

  “We have pretty damning evidence against him, in the form of his own words. He’d go down with us if we were caught.”

  “If we’re killed, no one will ever see any evidence.”

  Kearn sighed involuntarily, hating every minute of this. What had he done to deserve such an eventful life?

  “Look,” he said irritably, “unless you can offer a viable alternative, we have to do as he asks. The only question is how. I’m willing to revive just Coleridge first. If she agrees and thinks she can handle the job alone, we let her. But barring that...we might need Fyat.”

  Scowling, Aprile sank resignedly into her chair. “Do we get some time to think about this?”

  “Until Ona orbit, I suppose.”

  The meeting adjourned with no final decision taken. Hours later, during
Lady’s final stage of decel, Kearn spent his time in the grav couch searching desperately for a last-minute alternative, something he had missed, a way out of this latest in a string of disasters. He was forced to conclude that there was no such alternative.

  It was decided then. Upon easing Lady into a stable orbit of Ona, Kearn accompanied Aprile into the crew hibe vault to revive Coleridge. Kearn, first through the hatch, halted abruptly on a grab hoop upon receiving an entirely unexpected and unwelcome greeting.

  “Thought you were rid of me?”

  “Fyat.” Kearn all but spat the speaker’s name.

  “I’m willing to forgive,” the assassin said coolly, hovering near his empty hibe capsule. “Once. In fact I have to admit some respect to you for having managed to lock me out of your systems.”

  “How did you get out of hibe?” Kearn demanded--as though lack of suitable explanation might make the problem vanish.

  “Did you really think I would place myself at your mercy without insurance?”

  Kearn just muttered more curses under his breath, something he’d been doing far too often lately. “Well,” he started with a disheartened sigh--something else he’d been doing too much of. “It turns out we can use your help. What do you say to mounting a rescue mission on the surface of this dump we’re orbiting?”

  “That would depend on who needs rescuing and how it benefits me.”

  “We’re being blackmailed by what I guess is a rogue Interim official. Quite a lot of you seem to be disgruntled these days. Anyway, he wants us to rescue some imprisoned local in exchange for fuel and safe passage out-system.”

  “You have a habit of finding trouble, Captain Kearn.”

  “I was minding my own business until I met you. I’ll provide you with the mission briefing in hard copy, seeing as I’d have to be an idiot to grant you even limited access to my systems again. After you see it, you can make your decision. I would note, however, that this is most likely the end of the line for all of us if you refuse.”

  “As you say, I’ll make my own decision. What is the level of Interim presence here?”

  “Oh, I guess he forgot to tell us that.”

  Typically, Fyat was unamused. “You detected no vessels, correct? If we truly are being blackmailed, there can be no major Fleet presence. They would have attacked. We must be dealing with the local Instruction & Guidance office, which cannot command sufficient resources to back such threats. The best course is to seize Ona’s antimatter station by force, refuel and jump out-system long before Fleet can deploy assets to stop us.”

  Taking an instant dislike to Fyat’s ultraviolent line of thinking, Kearn moved to cut off discussion. “If you’re ready to hijack a flying bomb, then you can handle a simple rescue,” he said. “Let’s call your idea Plan B.”

  Fyat moved purposefully closer, approaching the exit. Kearn tensed instinctively but held his ground.

  “Fine, I’ll do it.” The killer’s cold eyes flicked over Kearn’s shoulder at Aprile. “But I won’t leave this ship without insurance. You or this one will accompany me groundside.”

  “I’ll go,” Kearn agreed swiftly, if reluctantly. It was only fitting that he face this danger himself.

  But just as quickly Aprile objected. “No, I’ll go.”

  Kearn cast her an irritated glance. “Overruled.”

  “I’m no soldier,” she said in reply. “But at least I know which end of a rifle to point away from me.”

  “That’s not--”

  “Besides, none of us speak the language,” she went on. “And females have the ‘advantage’ on Ona of being expected not to speak.”

  “They also wear ten layers of clothing. I can pass for one as easily as you.”

  But Aprile’s logic was not Kearn’s main point of contention. Mostly he would just feel like a coward letting her face this danger in his stead.

  “I won’t let you be a hostage, Aprile.”

  Kearn intended this to be the final word, but the assassin hijacked that honor for himself.

  “She may have a thicker skull than you, Captain,” Fyat said, “but it holds more common sense. She’d pull a trigger in the time it took you to figure out who you’re supposed to shoot. I don’t want a hostage down there, I want an extra pair of eyes and hands. I’ll take her.”

  “I can’t allow that.”

  Fyat scowled, to the small extent that this differed from his usual expression. “For now I am allowing you to retain command, Captain,” he said icily. “But don’t test me. I’m not your crewman, and I am far from defeated. I’ll take the woman. It’s no longer negotiable.”

  Aprile laid a hand on Kearn’s shoulder, an uncharacteristically warm gesture that took him by surprise. She followed it with a simple, grave nod urging him to acquiesce.

  “Fine,” Kearn conceded. “What about Coleridge?”

  “Wake her.”

  ***

  Reissa InfoFLUX - Your total news source for Reissa and beyond.

  I.0286.12.30 01:12

  Commonwealth:BREAKING NEWS

  SOURCES: ROGUE VOIDSHIP THREATENS COMMONWEALTH

  A Fleet captain may have turned traitor, say unconfirmed reports from anonymous high-level sources. According to them, a voidship captain whose identity was not revealed has already destroyed several Fleet vessels with the apparent aim of disrupting Operation Freedom’s Reign.

  A separate anonymous source indicates that the rogue captain has even made direct threats to the safety of Reissa itself. A formal government response to the rumors has yet to come, but at least one administration official was quick to go on record as denying any immediate cause for alarm.

  [END]

  ***

  “Forget it,” Coleridge said flatly, reclining in the medlounge shortly after her revival. “Do it yourselves. I’m no one’s dog anymore.”

  “Until your freedom is won, you’re just that,” Fyat said.

  “Back off,” Kearn advised the assassin rather boldly, before turning to address Coleridge himself. “Coleridge--Valerie--we’re being blackmailed. The safety of this vessel and all aboard, yourself included, depends on this. Don’t do it for Fyat or for any of us. Do it for yourself.”

  Coleridge fell quiet. Her eyes, far more human than those of her black-hearted colleague, were deep and reflective.

  “I appreciate being asked and not ordered,” she said pointedly to Kearn. “But if you didn’t notice, I’m not even whole.”

  Fyat broke in: “Accept this mission and you’ll have your repairs.”

  “No!” Kearn yelled. “You’ll get your new arm no matter what. I’m being blackmailed already. I won’t do the same to you.”

  Coleridge regarded both men with a mix of sadness and contempt. “Fine,” she said at length. “One more time.”

  Kearn gave her a smile. “Thank you, Valerie.” His repeated use of her given name was deliberate, and admittedly an attempt to manipulate her. “I owe you. We all do.”

  The two assassins and Aprile spent the next two hours prepping their mission. Kearn, meanwhile, joined Lady’s recently revived full crew to begin arrangements for the delivery of cargo to Onari authorities on the optimistic assumption that the fuel trade would eventually take place.

  Later, at Fyat’s comm, Kearn came to watch the surface team depart for Ona.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked Aprile privately in the hangar anteroom.

  “No,” she confessed. She put on a good outward show of calm, but one who knew her as Kearn did could detect deeper disquiet.

  “Well,” he started, but quickly stumbled for words. “Be careful. Leave the real work to the professionals.” He paused heavily, regretfully. “It should be me down there.”

  “Shut up,” Aprile said with exaggerated irritation. “I’ll see you soon.” Without further word she turned and set off into the flyer bay.

  Kearn was left behind feeling powerless, with his fate firmly in hands other than his own. “Fyat,” he commed privately, just pri
or to departure. “These people have done nothing to us. Try to keep the carnage to a minimum.”

  “Naturally,” the Social Engineer replied. But Kearn rather suspected there was a world of difference between Fyat’s ‘minimum’ and his own.

  After the launch Kearn found himself once more alone with Zerouali. He wasn’t quite sure why she’d come to see the flyer off personally. She wasn’t close to Aprile, and certainly not to the assassins. Whatever her reason for the small gesture, Kearn welcomed it.

  “How’s our undead friend?” he asked Zerouali casually as they set off together from the hangar. He conversed with her in the spacer tongue now, since she knew it as well as she did any other.

  “No change. A bit paler perhaps.”

  “Did you give any more thought to what she said?”

  “Quite a lot, in fact.”

  Surprisingly, Zerouali seemed ready to leave it at that, passing up a perfectly good opportunity to speak about the mysteries that seemed to excite her so.

  “Tell me,” Kearn prompted eventually.

  “I’m sure you have other things on your mind.”

  “I do. That’s exactly why I’m asking.”

  “If it’s a diversion you want, this won’t qualify.”

  Kearn scoffed. “I’ll take what I can get these days.”

  Zerouali did not reciprocate his forced levity. “Very well,” she said. “I think Lisset is, or rather she represents, a force that has been manipulating us for quite some time, and which continues to do so now.”

  “You’ve already said as much. What kind of ‘force’?”

  “Impossible to know. What I’ve been wondering about foremost is her motivation. Why give us Prophet, and why the absurd manner of discovery? And why all that’s happened since? Why the Interim?”

  “That’s a lot of ‘why’s’ without any answers. Any guesses?”

  “All we could ever do is guess. Aside from what she’s admitted to us, there’s no way to tell which events in human history have been accident and which design. Maybe her hand, or another like it, was present in more subtle ways even before Prophet. I don’t know which is the more frightening prospect--that some higher power has plans for the human race, or that we’re simply being toyed with indiscriminately. We may never know.”