Knight Errant

by Paul Barrett

  Except for some scratches, bruising and a catatonic stare, Patishi was uninjured. Laura bathed her and administered a mild sedative; she slept in one of the warmed medical bay beds.

  She had spent an hour on Thomas, fixing his burns and puncture. Separately, each injury should have killed him, but he was tougher than he looked and had somehow hung on despite all the abuse. Laura had administered biobots to repair the damage. The extent of his injuries would require him to remain under sedated treatment for at least two weeks.

  Hawk had three broken ribs, a slug lodged near his kidney, and a nasty gash across the back of his head. A dose of biobots and two hours under the skeletal knitter left him with nothing but stiffness that would last a few days.

  Wolf had been last. None of the bullets or lasers had penetrated his thick, sodium-silicon laced skin. Had he gone without treatment, the minor burns would have healed and the slugs would have worked their way out like festering splinters. But Wolf didn’t enjoy the discomfort of fifteen globs of metal wedged under his skin, so Laura removed them.

  Wolf slipped on his light blue pullover shirt, and they walked toward the wardroom, Laura moving with a slight stiffness. Like Hawk, she would be sore for several days. As they entered the wardroom, Ashron looked at them, then at Hawk.

  “Well,” the Lorothian said, “I would like to state unequivocally that that plan sucked oranges. What do we do now?”

  “As I see it, we need to get word to the Council about what happened,” Hawk said. “We’ll have to get Yoseph and Patishi to a hospital with their grandparents. We can probably set Thomas there too if he’s recovered, and pay for transport wherever he’d like to go. He deserves at least that.”

  “He did me proud,” Ashron said. “I hope there’s at least a commendation and a renewal of his training in his future.”

  At Hawk’s instruction, Trey had set out small glasses on a platter, along with a bottle of Scotch from the captain’s private reserve. Hawk uncorked the bottle and filled each glass. “Take one.”

  Everyone reached in and grabbed a glass. Trey stepped away.

  “You too,” Hawk said. “You were as much a part of this as anyone.”

  Trey glanced at Laura. She frowned at Hawk.

  “He earned it,” Hawk told her.

  Face still grim, she nodded. Trey picked up the glass.

  “‘And the fever called living is conquered at last.’” He raised his glass.

  “‘All that tread the globe are but a handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom.’” Gerard quoted, raising his glass, a tear running down his cheek.

  The others raised their glasses.

  “To Yonath and Dona Maratai,” Laura said. “May they be forever in our memories, and forever ensconced in the bosom of the Almighty Creator of the universe.”

  They each drained their glass in silence. Trey grimaced at the taste. They stood, each lost in their thoughts.

  A nerve-shattering scream echoed through the hall, smashing the stillness.

  “Yoseph,” Wolf said.

  Laura raced out the door, followed closely by Hawk and Ashron, with Gerard, Trey, and Wolf bringing up the rear. The screams grew louder and more frantic as they rounded the corner to the med bay. Glass and metal crashed.

  Bursting through the door, they found Yoseph convulsing on the floor. An overturned cart left, instruments strewn about the floor. Patishi huddled in the corner of the room, wide-eyed with terror despite the sedative. Thomas lay on a bed meters away, oblivious.

  Laura ran to Yoseph, trying to grab his wildly flailing arms. His open hand smashed into her nose; she fell back, bloodied and stunned.

  Wolf pushed past everyone and grabbed Yoseph, who continued to flail even under the Uraxian’s firm grip. The boy’s screams were almost deafening.

  Laura pulled herself off the floor, wiping absently at her nose as she walked toward the dispensing cabinet.

  “What’s going on?” Hawk had to yell to be heard.

  “I don’t know,” Laura shouted back. She grabbed a dose of triptamorphine and injected it into the boy’s arm.

  The screams grew louder and more frantic. One of Yoseph’s hands latched onto Wolf’s arm and squeezed with such force that his fingernails bent trying to dig into the armored skin.

  “Put him on the bed.”

  The screams went silent as the boy keened beyond the range of human hearing. Ashron shuddered and put his hands against his tympanic membranes to drown out the piercing screech.

  Yoseph stopped in mid-scream, eyes and mouth open, frozen in the act of yelling. Wolf laid him on the bed and stepped away. Trey, hands over his ears and tears pouring down his face, looked once at Yoseph and fled the room.

  The rest of the crew stood, stunned and shaken. Laura walked over to the boy, her face ashen. She spoke with a frightening mechanical flatness. “I’ve got to perform an autopsy. Please leave.”

  “Should I assi—” Gerard said.

  “No,” she said, her stricken voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it. Just leave.”

  Taking the sobbing Patishi with them, they walked out. She closed the door behind them.

  Hawk sat in a spacious cabin that suddenly felt too confining. A half-finished bottle of bourbon sat beside an empty bottle on his desk. Except for Laura and himself, the crew had long since gone to bed. Hawk had placed Patishi in the guest quarters, where she reacted to nothing he said or did. Hawk had covered her with a blanket and left her with the lights lowered.

  Unwilling to be alone in his cabin, Trey slept in Hawk’s bed. The boy refused to admit he was upset, but explained that he was “keeping an eye” on Hawk: in case Hawk needed him. Hawk grinned at the boy’s bravado as he reached for the glass of bourbon.

  Hawk drained the last of the liquor. He saw movement distorted through the bottom of the glass. He set it down and the blur resolved into Laura. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked her.

  “Please. Water would be fine.” She sat on the bed beside Trey, careful to not wake him.

  Hawk walked over to his small bar and returned with a glass of ice water and another bottle of bourbon. As he handed the water to Laura and removed the seal from the bourbon, the bitter irony of his recent promise to stop drinking came to mind. He had predicted more people would disappear from his life; he never thought it would be so many so soon in such a brutal way.

  He refilled his snifter.

  Laura gently stroked Trey’s brown hair. “You know, my little boy would be about as old as Yoseph was…” She let the thought trail off as she took a drink of water. As Hawk sipped his bourbon, he noticed her trembling hands. He sat back in the chair and waited.

  “I don’t know where to start.” She gazed absently at the reflections in the ice cubes. With a heavy sigh, she began. “I narrowed down the times of death to within minutes. It appears that Patishi, Dona, and Yoseph were strung up, and mother and son beaten. This was over a long period and before Yonath was killed, so I assume it was done in front of him as a form of torture. He was killed first, very slowly over a span of about three hours. After Dona and the children witnessed their father’s death, these animals continued amusing themselves with Dona and Yoseph.”

  Laura stopped, overcome. She finished the water, her hand visibly shaking. Hawk waited until she gained control. He didn’t have to ask why they had left Patishi mostly unharmed.

  “I place Dona’s time of death roughly fifteen minutes before you entered the fortress, so they must have stopped when they knew we would be arriving.”

  “What killed Yoseph?”

  “They planned it very well. Knowing his wound would need immediate attention, they injected a drug in his body that would greatly enhance any coagulating agent introduced to stop the bleeding.”

  Hawk slowly grasped what Laura was saying. “That would mean…”

  “His blood jelled while he was alive and his heart burst,” Laura finished for him. “It’s a rare drug not programmed in the scanners. I wo
uld never have even thought to look for it.”

  “Moran, you sick sadistic bastard,” Hawk said, shuddering as he emptied the glass.

  “That stuff is going to kill you,” Laura chided.

  “Probably not before a laser does. Very few people in our profession collect retirement.” Hawk set the glass down and pushed the bottle away. “How’s Patishi?”

  “She’s gone completely catatonic. I think seeing what happened to her brother pushed her over the edge. I’m going to go back and work with her as soon as I take a little break.”

  “No, you’re not,” Hawk said gently. “You’re going to get some sleep, and you can work with her tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments. Captain’s orders. I’m not a doctor, but I know that if she’s catatonic, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. If there’s any change in her condition, Ship will let you know. I need you fresh and rested. We all have a lot of things to discuss tomorrow.”

  Laura pulled a small plastic bag out of her shirt pocket and tossed it in Hawk’s lap. “I found this attached next to Yonath’s spine.”

  An almost microscopically small black chip rested inside the bag. “What is it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I know someone who will,” Hawk stood. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” As he left his cabin, Hawk said, “Ship, wake Gerard up and tell him I’m coming.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. It’s three AM ship time. If you want someone awakened at this ungodly hour, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

  Hawk decided against arguing. She was right; it would be politer to be rude personally.

  When he reached Gerard’s room, he gave a light tap on the door, not so much to wake Gerard as to let ROMANCE know someone was about to enter. Gerard assured them his Remote Operated Mechanical Annihilator of Nuisances, Creeps and Enemies knew everyone on board and was programmed not to hurt any of them. But Hawk took no chances when it came to a metal trapezoid that could do severe damage to the entire ship on a whim. He knew full well ROMANCE’s sensors had him pinpointed and that the robot’s laser could slag the wall that stood between them. He hid there anyway.

  “Ship, open the door.”

  The door slid open. Hawk peeked around the corner. Sure enough, ROMANCE sat there with its laser sighted, primed and ready to vaporize. Hawk raised a tentative hand and waved at the stupid thing, convinced the machine hated him out of pure spite. ROMANCE beeped in a contemptible sort of way, almost as if to say Hawk wasn’t worth his time. It moved to the foot of the bed. Hawk walked over to Gerard and gently shook him by the shoulder.

  Gerard rolled over, and his sleepy eyes found Hawk. “Yeah?”

  “Sorry to bother you. Laura found this on Yonath’s spine. We have no idea what to make of it. Do you know what it is?”

  Gerard sat up and studied the chip. After a moment, he reached into his nightstand and took out a loupe. He fit the magnifier to his eye and examined the device.

  “No, it can’t be.” He sat up and examined it closer. After a moment, he picked up a palm computer off his nightstand, tapped on the screen, and studied the readout. “That’s what it is all right,” he said, handing it back to Hawk. “It’s a body transmitter.”

  “And that is?”

  “A biological transmitting device that picks up all audio within about thirty meters and transmits it to a special receiver,” Gerard leaned back against the pillow. “State of the art, extremely rare and expensive like you don’t want to know.”

  “When you say ‘biological,’ how specifically do you define that?”

  “It’s an actual living device,” Gerard answered. “Unlike biobots, it’s totally organic, with no cybernetic parts. It amplifies neural energy for its power supply, uses bone for its transmission conductor, and takes nutrients from blood. The spine is the best place to position it. Since it’s not a mechanical device, it’s—”

  “Undetectable by normal bug monitors,” Hawk finished.

  “Exactly.”

  Hawk considered Gerard’s information for a moment. “I haven’t heard anything about the Council using this. Have you?”

  “No,” Gerard answered. “The Council wouldn’t. Too risky.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The rejection rate is about fifty-fifty. Rejection results in a massive neural overload and agonizing death.”

  “Thanks, Gerard, you’ve been a big help.”

  “Always happy to do it,” Gerard said.

  Hawk left Gerard’s cabin and walked toward his own. As he moved through the hall, he speculated on the origin of the chip. Had Yonath had it installed? No, he wasn’t that kind of risk taker, and Hawk could think of no benefits. The Council hadn’t done it, which left Unicybertronic Technologies. It was possible that it was standard procedure, but Hawk couldn’t picture any corporation risking its executives on an operation which only half the patients survived. Hawk also couldn’t imagine many people willingly letting their privacy be so violated.

  The only thing Hawk could figure was that UCT knew Yonath was a spy and planted the device on him. Even that didn’t make sense, unless they were planning for the long run, using the device to find out what they could about the Council.

  Too many questions, too long a day, he thought as he reached his cabin and the door opened. “Laura, I—”

  She was sound asleep. Her head rested against the wall; her hand lay on Trey’s shoulder. Hawk slipped two blankets out of the closet. One went over Trey; the other Laura. He turned off the desk lamp and headed for the wardroom.

  “Why is it people always want to cover up someone who’s sleeping when it’s obvious they’re quite comfortable already, or else they wouldn’t be sleeping?” Ship said as Hawk entered the wardroom.

  “I’m not keeping you busy enough,” Hawk told her. He grabbed a blanket from the closet and headed for the wardroom.

  Laura awoke to Trey’s sobs. He still slept even as tears ran down his face and a low keening sound issued from his throat. She softly stroked his hair; her heart ached at the torments he must be reliving in his dreams. Though he didn’t talk about it, she knew Trey had seen more abominations than a person five times his age should be forced to witness. Laura had brought him to Ship so he would never have to experience anything like that again. It seemed his horror quotient was not used up yet.

  “Mom, Dad, NO!” he cried out, pure anguish leaping from his child’s voice. The flood of tears doubled.

  “Shhh!” Laura shed her tears. She rested her head against the wall and softly rubbed Trey’s back. “Shh, honey. Mama’s here.”

  That’s what she considered herself. She had lost a son; he had lost a mother. It only seemed right the two of them be together. Trey had never told them how his parents died, either because he didn’t want to, or because he couldn’t. Whatever the cause, it tormented him in his dreams.

  She pulled up the cover and thought of her son, the offspring of a brutal rape by a person Laura had considered a friend. There was no police report or trial. Laura had caught up with him and dispensed her own justice. Though he still lived when she last saw him, the man would rape no other women.

  Despite the circumstances of his conception, Laura had loved her little Garritt fiercely. She treated him like the king of the universe, for he was the king of her universe. She vowed she would raise him to be a kind, strong man. Her dreams focused on the great things he would do.

  Those dreams shattered one afternoon on a city street. A thief, fleeing from the police, ran between her and her boy and pushed him into the street. She screamed a warning, but the car’s driver never even saw the small child. She ran to the boy, hoping against hope as a curious crowd gathered. He was dead before he hit the pavement. Even she, expert healer that she was, did not have the power to restore life.

  But she did have the power to protect the one who rested fitfully beside her, and she again vowed to do all she could to keep him from harm.

  She returne
d to a fitful sleep, the two of them crying silently at the injustice of the Universe.

  13

  The Next Move

  Wolf rumbled to the wardroom to start breakfast, his thick body almost brushing the passageway walls. As he slid sideways through the hatch, he found Hawk slumped over in one of the dark blue lounge chairs. A blanket lay bundled on the floor, partially covering his leg. Wolf walked into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and put two pans on the stove. Ship could have had breakfast prepared before he even woke, but Wolf preferred his cooking. As did the rest of the crew.

  Wolf pulled out eggs and bacon—the crew’s favored breakfast despite the variety of exotic cuisines available to them—and laid several strips into one of the heated pans. He grabbed a bowl and began cracking eggs, enjoying the quiet solitude before the rest of the crew awoke and wandered in. Calm was a rare commodity on Ship, and Wolf valued every bit of it. Peace had been atypical at his home back on Urax, too. Especially when, on his sixteenth birthday, he announced he would not be following the genotype occupation laid out for him by the Geneseers eleven years before. He vowed to pursue his dream.

  From that moment, noise had filled his world. Shouts from his mother buffeted him, threats from his father assailed him, and condemnation from many of his friends wounded him. He bore it all with the stoicism of his genetic makeup. Only his eleven-year-old sister supported his decision, and she had no voice in the family councils.

  Two years later, the noise stopped as he stunned them into silence by declaring his intention to leave Urax and see the universe. In the current times, younger Uraxians often left, to the chagrin of the elder population. When Wolf did it fifteen years ago, it had been nearly unthinkable. The planetary government punished him with permanent banishment and compensated his family for the “loss” of their son.

  Only Hawk and Gerard knew of his scandalous past; Wolf grinned as he wondered what the others would think to discover their taciturn engineer had once been a firebrand of progressive rebellion.