by Paul Barrett
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I? I’m not worthy of the Kral-cy-bar.”
“Have you been offered this honor?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are worthy,” Zargot said. For the first time Gerard could remember, an edge came into his voice. “Or do you presume to question our judgment?”
That convinced Gerard he did not dream. “No. I always defer to the judgment of my Elders.”
“Very well. Do you accept? Be aware that there is no shame or insult in refusing. All of this assembly has been offered. As you see, only two are so adorned.”
A question came to Gerard’s mind then, but he decided to save it for another time. If he asked now, the answer might dissuade him from his decision. “I gratefully accept this honor,” he said, bowing his head.
“Very well,” Zargot stood. “Let all the Order know that starting tomorrow, Gerard of Berol will undergo the Kral-cy-bar.
“The next day,” Gerard continued as Trey sat enraptured, the fingers on his left hand moving slowly one at a time. “I underwent a complex ritual to prepare me, and that night they removed my arm and replaced it with this.” He held up the cybernetic arm. “They used nothing to dampen the pain. I was expected to overcome it using my abilities to access the aether and employ it to bind my flesh with the metal. They told me I struggled for five days, and nearly died twice. What I remember of the experience, I won’t discuss freely.” Gerard shuddered.
“If it’s that bad, I don’t think I’d want to hear it anyway,” Trey said.
“At the end of five days, I left the ritual chamber, and I was Kral-cy-bar.”
“What exactly is Kral-cy-bar?”
“That’s not an easy answer, and I think one story is enough for the evening. You’ll be my apprentice for five years. You will have all your questions answered before then, or will know how to find the answers. Try and get some sleep now.” Gerard stood up and walked to the door.
“Can I ask one more thing?” Trey said as Gerard started to leave.
“Yes,” he said, turning back.
“What was the question you wanted to ask the Elders?”
“I wanted to know how many Kral-cy-bar there were.”
“Did you find out?”
“Yes. I was the seventy-seventh to survive.”
Trey’s face went pale. “Survive? How many tried?”
“At the time, four hundred and twenty-three.”
15
Threads Unraveled
Three days later, Hawk lounged in his private “think tank,” an anteroom nestled beside his cabin with subdued lighting, soft classical music, and a whirlpool that swirled with eucalyptus-scented water. They would be reaching their contact point soon, and he was doing what he could to endure the maddening wait. Even though he usually enjoyed the serenity of ripspace when he didn’t have to see its vast blankness, right now too much-needed mending. Every moment of delay frustrated him. He had occupied himself with simulator drills and tactics sessions, but training only took up so much time. The rest he had spent reading or worrying. An acceptable side effect of a well-maintained craft and crew, but maddening nonetheless.
Laura discovered the hospital where Yonath had his appendix removed. As she expected, it resided in the same city as Unicybertronic’s headquarters. Though logic dictated Yonath would go there for any procedures, since it was the closest hospital to his home, it also strengthened the argument for their involvement. Using relays and encryption, Laura sent a message to Yonath’s physician before they ripped. She would get no reply until they returned to normal space. She kept busy with her research on the chip, doing what she could for the still catatonic Patishi and keeping an eye on the healing Thomas.
Laura had sent word to Patishi’s grandparents that their granddaughter was safe and would be delivered to them as soon as possible. Laura hoped that seeing her flesh and blood would draw Patishi from her fugue.
Hawk absently put his hand in the water, palm up. One of the small, round fish that lived in the swirling liquid settled itself in his hand. He pulled the fish out of the water and stroked its malachite-colored back. It gave a contended burble like a cooing child. Hawk smiled. The kenquala had been a birthday gift from Laura. They came from a small planet on the outer reaches of Council control, were outrageously expensive, and emitted a biological chemical with mild calming and restorative properties.
Hawk held the creature for about a minute before it slid off his hand and back into the water. Another one nudged at his leg, begging to be picked up.
“Captain?” Ship said, “Sorry to bother you. Gerard asked to see you in the conference room. We’ve been doing research and have found out some things you might want to know before you make your report to Grendarin.”
“I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“Probably not.”
Hawk stood up with a sigh. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
He stepped out of the pool and dried off, trying to figure out how the situation could be any worse. His overactive imagination all too willingly provided several possibilities.
Dressed in a pair of loose gray pants and a short-sleeved black shirt, he walked into the conference room to find Gerard sitting in front of one of the table’s pop-up monitors, with several sheets of electronic paper laid across the table. “Hello. Have a seat.”
Hawk noted Gerard’s serious tone. “Am I going to want a drink?”
“Probably.”
“Ship, get―”
“Trey is on his way, Captain.”
Hawk pulled up a chair and sat beside Gerard. “Go ahead.”
“I finally figured out what was bothering me. It didn’t have anything to do with our mission. It was the assassination attempt.”
“Assassination attempt?” Hawk asked in surprise. “What about it?”
“The whole thing seemed far too elaborate and more than a little inept. Anne, or whatever her real name is, had several private opportunities to kill you, yet she waited until you were on a public street.”
“Actually, it was an alley,” Hawk told him.
“It was still public.”
“Maybe she wanted to use her thugs to distract me.”
“Even that doesn’t make much sense. These men went on about One-Eye, which we now know is Moran, instead of opening fire. If they had come out shooting, chances are we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Moran always did have an ego,” Hawk said. “I guess he wanted me to know who he was.”
“But you didn’t until the attack at Tekran. You had no idea who One-Eye was. That’s what bothered me. There were far too many times when you could have easily been killed.”
“I don’t know about easily,” Hawk muttered.
“Easily enough,” Gerard smiled. “I decided to investigate on the assumption Moran wanted the attack to be public. My findings seem to bear me out. It appears we’ve been up to some exciting things. Ship, give me the first news story.”
“Okay,” Ship said. The screen lit up with a printed article. At that moment, Trey stepped into the room carrying a tray with two glasses.
“The kid has perfect timing,” Gerard said.
“Great,” Hawk said as Trey walked over.
“Your usual.” the boy handed Hawk a glass. “And another, because Ship said you’d need it.” He set the second glass on the table.
“This just gets better all the time,” Hawk said as Trey left.
“Wait,” Gerard replied.
Taking a sip from his drink, Hawk turned the screen to face him, and read:
FOUR KILLED IN ALLEY AMBUSH
Pa’tris City, Pa’tris Prime – Four men were brutally slain in a downtown alley yesterday evening, the result of an apparent random act of violence by Sean Grey of Earth (-3.904, -1.426, +3.548), a.k.a. Hawk, leader of the de-licensed Corporate Mercenary Unit The Knights of The Flaming Star.
“We haven’t been de-licensed,” Hawk protested.
“We’ll discu
ss that in a minute. Keep reading.”
According to Ms. Anne Siliar, who was on a date with Mr. Grey at the time of the event, there was no provocation for the incident. “We were cutting through the alley,” said a distraught Ms. Siliar, “and these gentlemen asked us for directions to a local bar. (Hawk) said, ‘You’ll never take me,’ pulled out a gun, and shot all four of them.” Pointing at a laceration on her arm, she continued, “He tried to get me as I ran, but I got lucky.”
This is the second act of violence attributed to Mr. Grey.
“Second?” Hawk asked.
“Give me the next one, Ship,” Gerard’s smile grew broader. “You’ll like this one.”
The screen changed, and Hawk turned back to it.
MAN KILLED IN BAR BY MERCENARY CAPTAIN
Pa’tris City, Pa’tris Prime - Violence erupted in a portside bar known as the Ripspace Grotto today as a man was beaten to death in an argument over a woman.
Witnesses identified the assailant as regular customer Sean Grey, leader of the Knights of The Flaming Star, a Corporate Mercenary Unit regarded as so renegade by the business community they have been de-licensed.
“It was just a normal day,” said bartender Raulf Loraanaw, “with Hawk sitting in his usual booth. This guy walks up to him and starts talking. Next thing I know they’re yelling at each other, then fists start flying and, before anybody can stop it, Hawk has broken this guy’s neck. Those mercenaries learn that sort of fighting, you know.”
The victim has been identified as local businessman Bray Termain. He is survived by a wife and three children.
Grey is now being sought…
“This is incredible.” Hawk shook his head. “No one is going to believe this, are they?”
“I think you’d be surprised,” Gerard said. “There are a lot of people who like to see the good guys take a fall. Like it or not, Corporate Mercenaries are in the public eye, and this is the kind of story that may go galaxy-wide. Besides, the ones who don’t believe that story will undoubtedly believe the next one, which is dated yesterday and has gone out over the newsnet. Ship.”
The screen flickered again; Hawk grabbed his second drink and returned his gaze to the screen. There was a picture of someone Hawk didn’t recognize in the center of the article. He didn’t look at it long because the headline quickly grabbed his attention.
KNIGHTS IN LEAGUE WITH TERRORISTS
CANDASH (-6.987, +14.381, +2.092) - (AP) Corporate Mercenary Unit The Knights of The Flaming Star are now believed to be in league with a terrorist group known as the Tekranese Destruction Force. According to Cosmos Federated, the Knight’s primary employer, the Knights were sent on a routine courier mission to the company’s facility on Candash. There, assisted by members of the Tekranese Destruction Force, they attacked a new land-based laser system designed by Cosmos.
When asked for comment, Federated’s Chairman Carlton Noaerm said, “As far as we are concerned, (the Knights) are nothing more than terrorists and outlaws. Because of their past service, we were willing to give them a chance even when they lost their license, but they have shown their true colors. We will deal with them in the strictest possible manner. We plan to offer a two hundred million STU reward for anyone who brings them in alive.”
Hawk whistled, “Two hundred million Standards. Someone wants us out of the way but good. Hell, I may turn us in. Who is Cosmos Federated?”
“Good question,” Gerard said. “There are several Cosmos Federateds listed. All of them deal in their local systems, and we’ve never worked for any of them. Offhand, I’d say it was a convenient name tossed into the story, and Carl Noarem is an alias for someone we know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the picture. Closely.”
Hawk studied the photograph he had glanced over earlier. Though the face seemed familiar, he couldn’t quite place it.
“Ship, take away the beard, add an eye patch, and darken the hair,” Gerard said.
Ship had gone no further than removing the beard when Hawk blurted out, “Moran.” Hawk wanted to kick himself for not recognizing his old friend sooner. “Son of a bitch.” He downed the last of his drink. “That’ll teach me. If I had spent more time practicing with knives, we wouldn’t be having any of these problems. Any other tidbits?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Well, hang on. Ship?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Tell everybody to meet in fifteen minutes.” He turned to Gerard. “There’s no sense in going over the rest twice. We’ll let everybody know what’s up, then figure out what to do.”
“Okay.”
“Get whatever you need,” he told Gerard “I’m going to let you do the talking.”
“So Moran is behind this whole thing,” Laura said after Gerard finished his briefing.
“He planned all of it and is certainly deeply involved,” Gerard answered. “However, I think we can safely assume there is someone else behind him, funding the operation.”
“Why?” Ashron asked.
“As Hawk pointed out a few days ago, Moran was never an expert money manager. Even if he was the best financier in the galaxy, he would be hard-pressed to come up with two hundred million Standards in five years.”
“That’s just for the reward,” Hawk said. “We won’t even consider what that little trap on Tekran cost.”
“I don’t understand,” Trey said. He had finished reading the last news story. “None of this is true.”
“The people reading it won’t know that,” Laura told him.
“How can they print it if it’s not true?”
“I hate to disillusion you, Trey old chum,” Ashron said. “Newspapers reporting lies is as old as newspapers being printed.”
“‘If you have a choice between the truth and the legend, print the legend.’” Gerard quoted. “Besides, the papers may not know their information is false. It’s easy enough to pay people to lie.”
“But why?” Trey asked.
“It’s actually a pretty clever plan,” Gerard said. “I’d be interested to know if Moran set it all up or if he’s improvising as things go wrong.”
“We’ll make sure to ask him next time we see him,” Hawk said.
“Excuse me,” Ashron said. “You seem to be talking about Moran in the wrong tense. He’s dead.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He got shot in the chest and through the eye and had a building blow up around him. He may be tough, but I’d say it would be pretty hard to bounce back from something like that.”
“I thought he was dead five years ago,” Hawk said. “We see what that mistake has cost.”
There was a brief pause, and then Trey said, “I still don’t get it.”
Gerard looked at him. “When you read those stories, what did they make you think?”
“That they were a bunch of lies.”
“That’s because you were there for one of the events and you know Hawk well enough to disbelieve the other two. Pretend you were someone who didn’t know anything about the Knights, and you read those. Then what would you think?”
“That the Knights were criminals.”
“And that’s exactly what Moran wants people to think,” Gerard told him. “He hires assassins to kill Hawk in a public place. If they kill him, no problem. However, if he kills them, it makes it appear that Hawk murdered innocent people. Then if Moran fails to kill us at the fortress, we suddenly become terrorists. That makes Hawk a wanted criminal, which will cause problems with Force 13.”
“If they believe the stories,” Hawk interrupted.
“Even if they don’t believe them, they can do nothing publicly to clear you. So, now the public has it in their minds that Hawk is a loose cannon. Moran sets up his ambush by kidnapping Yonath, and we go on what we assume is a standard rescue operation. Again, if we are killed, no problem. If not, we are suddenly terrorists.”
“That’s something that’s been bugging me,” Hawk said.
“How could Moran know we would be the team sent in to rescue the Maratais?”
“I suspect he planned that too,” Gerard told him. “Remember the message calling us to Seldon was audio only, so anyone with Force 13 coding could have sent it. I’d be willing to bet Moran still has contacts inside Force 13 that would give or sell him the information. He simply made sure we were the unit contacted. It may even have been his altered voice on the message.”
“Or perhaps,” Laura spoke up, “Moran knew we were friends with Yonath, and had the chip implanted on him in the hopes of finding us.”
“Is it me,” Ashron said, “or is Moran becoming more and more god-like as this conversation moves along? Next thing you’ll tell me he’s the one who got our license revoked.”
“He’s not god-like,” Gerard said, “but he’s had five years to brood over revenge and make a plan. He seems omniscient only because he knows all the answers, and we’re still trying to come up with the questions. And our license isn’t revoked. Anybody coming to hunt for us probably won’t let that get in the way of collecting the reward, though. If they even bother to confirm it.”
Hawk sighed. “So, the situation, in a nutshell, is we are now outlaws with a price—a substantial price—on our heads. We need to find out how much this story has gotten around.”
“I can almost guarantee you that every merc unit within a hundred light years has it flashing on their database,” Gerard informed them.
“You’ve been full of cheery news all day,” Hawk said. “So, basically, what we have is the entire mercenary community and a sizable portion of the armed and ignorant public sector now looking to hunt us down, and take us in.”
“Us against the universe,” Ashron said, grinning.
“What’s the plan?” Wolf asked.
Gerard spoke up. “Once we finish at ZT-3235, I suggest we go collect the reward.”
