For nothing. A pressure hatch opened. A man in a protective suit stepped through. Another followed. They expected a worse disaster than they found. They gawked at Haget. One ducked back. The ship’s doctor popped in, a fussy little fat man who sized up the situation on the fly and went directly to Vadja. He looked at Jo’s work, harrumphed, got busy. Vadja was on a stretcher, taking plasma, and headed for the Traveler’s infirmary in the time it took Jo to get to her feet and gingerly approach the opening to Messenger’s cabin.
Pieces of alien were splattered on bulkheads, deck, and overhead. That brought back memories of a bunker taken during the Enherrenraat mess. Stubborn bastards had ended up plastered all over the place.
Haget arrived as she backed away, trying to keep her lunch down. “I thought you were used to this.”
“Stick your head in there. Take a whiff.”
He did. His lunch did come up.
Jo said, “Whatever those suckers eat, it must have to be dead a month before they start. We’ll need suits if we’re going to poke around in there.”
The atmosphere system was trying. Its best was not enough.
Timmerbach appeared, oh-mying, looking like he’d shove them through the nearest lock cheerfully if only he dared. Haget said, “We’re building a real credit obligation here, aren’t we? Though I don’t think we had much to do with the thing going berserk.”
Timmerbach grunted. His look said anybody who had to deal with Guardship people would go berserk. “Fifty-six hours till we get to the off strand, Commander. Then on to S. Marselica Freeheld, where House Majhellain has facilities. Hopefully we can part company friends.”
Haget smiled thinly. “We won’t be leaving you, Chief.”
“I didn’t think so. But I thought I’d suggest it.”
Jo was trying to contact AnyKaat and having no luck. “This damned comm got bruised.”
“Try Vadja’s.” The doctor had dispossessed Vadja of his gear before moving him. “S. Marselica wasn’t on the itinerary, Chief.”
“Neither was the Presence, a killer Guardship, a suicidal Outsider, or this gallivant across starspace. But here we are. With who knows what damage from the explosion and the beating on the Web. We have to get Glorious Spent in for a hundred percenter.”
Jo tried Vadja’s comm. It would not crackle. But that did not matter now. Degas and AnyKaat had arrived.
Haget said, “You’re probably right, Chief.”
AnyKaat asked Jo, “You all right?”
“Overdone around the edges. Otherwise, fine.”
“You look awful.”
“Thanks. You’re one of nature’s rare beauties yourself.”
Haget asked Timmerbach for the loan of suits so they could invade the alien’s quarters.
AnyKaat asked, “How’s Era?”
Jo explained. “Unless that Doc is a butcher, he’ll be all right. Just shock and loss of blood.”
Haget joined them. “Timmerbach will provide the suits, Sergeant. In the interim, I suggest we visit the infirmary. See about Vadja and if maybe the doctor hasn’t got something that’ll stop the stinging of these burns. What’s Seeker doing?”
“Sleeping it off,” Degas said. “Sir, what are we going to do now? I got the impression Seeker was tailing Messenger, maybe keeping it from doing whatever it was trying to do. Now it doesn’t have a mission. And it wants to go back.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We’re supposed to stick and see what they do. But we haven’t charged this one. It can do whatever it wants. Suppose next station it bails out and takes another ship?”
Jo grinned. “What he’s saying is, how do you and me walk up to some other Traveler’s Chief and bluff him into hauling us around? We’d be stuck. We don’t have documentation. Him and AnyKaat have documentation but no credit. Timmerbach knows we’re off VII Gemina, but if he gets pissed he could dump us and we wouldn’t be able to prove a thing.”
Haget scowled. “Don’t give the little bastard any ideas. Hell. WarAvocat should have given us the necessaries. We’ll work on the alien. It’s out for sure? After the doctor we’ll get cleaned up. Did you get any wind of the krekelen, Degas?”
Degas and AnyKaat shook their heads.
“Better work on that, too.”
Jo came out of her quarters, found Haget ready before she was. She said, “That stuff does take the sting out. But it makes the red even redder. I look like some kind of artifact.”
Haget grunted. He looked uncomfortable. He blurted, “Tell me something, Sergeant.” But then he lost momentum.
“Sir?”
“Uh... what’s wrong with me?”
“Wrong with you? Are you asking for an opinion of your personality?” She knew damned well he was, but if she pretended density maybe he would back off.
No such luck. He insisted. “Yes.”
Shit. “You’re probably a good officer. You wouldn’t be a full Commander and a WatchMaster if you weren’t. But you never go off duty. You probably sleep at attention.”
He opened his mouth to snap, bit on his rejoinder. “I asked, didn’t I? Qualities that are prosurvival in Hall of the Watchers but less important out here, eh?”
“You’ve adapted some, sir.”
“I’ve tried.” He did not know what else to say. So he fell back on the support system that had served him in the past: getting after the job. “Let’s go visit Seeker and see if we can’t communicate. Do you have a functional comm?”
“Yes, sir.”
He strapped on a sidearm. “Tell Degas and AnyKaat we’re coming.”
Jo’s eyes were vacant when she walked out of Seeker’s cabin. Haget stepped into her path. She mumbled and tried to slide around him, headed for the bridge. He blocked her. “AnyKaat.”
AnyKaat slapped her.
She shook her head, rubbed her cheek. “It got to me this time, didn’t it?” It had been her fourth attempt and fourth failure. The alien was not interested in communicating, it was interested in getting Glorious Spent to carry it where it wanted to go.
“All right,” Haget said. “We tried it one rational species to another. Now we do it my way.” He drew his handgun, stepped inside, let the alien have it. ‘Two hours till it wakes up. Let’s get the equipment installed.”
His way amounted to crude operant conditioning. They would take turns trying to communicate. If Seeker tried to control instead of communicate, zap! Someone would sit monitor in Jo and Haget’s suite, ready to administer the zap.
“There’s no positive reinforcement in the cycle!” Jo protested.
Haget snapped, “The hell there isn’t. The absence of pain. The opportunity to argue its case.”
More than an hour passed before Jo realized that was what Haget considered a joke.
“You think we could try this on him, too?” AnyKaat whispered. “Zap him till he gets human?”
“He’s basically all right. He just never learned how.”
AnyKaat gave her a wonderstruck look.
“Shit,” Degas said from outside. “Here comes the angel of gloom.”
Jo leaned out. Sure enough, Timmerbach was headed their way. He did not look like he had a social visit in mind.
“What you got, Chief?” Degas asked. “We falling into a black hole? Somebody undo the golden zipper of the universe? You find the krekelen holed up in the wardroom?”
Timmerbach was taken aback.
Jo said, “You never come around with good news. What’s wrong now?”
“Where’s the Commander?”
“Asleep,” Jo lied. Haget had gone off to test the monitor. “And he said don’t wake him up.”
“You’ll have to do. I don’t have time to run after him. We’re not going to be able to get onto the strand we wanted. It’s the one the Presence and the Guardship used. It’s too feeble to get hold of.”
“I knew it,” Degas said. “What did I tell you?”
“We’re headed for another one?” Jo asked.
Timmerbach nodded. “It m
eans another four days in star-space.”
“Any problems with that? Stores shortages or anything?”
“No. I just don’t like to be alone in starspace so far from help. Anything could happen. If we have a breakdown, we’re dead.”
Degas said, “Chief, the law of averages is due to catch up. Your luck is going to change.”
Timmerbach” s look said that while his Traveler was occupied territory, the only shift he expected was for the worse. That this was not worth whatever VII Gemina might do for House Cholot.
That things might have gone worse without them was irrelevant.
“I’ll inform the Commander,” Jo said. I’ll tell him you looked like a fat little boy with naughty thoughts who maybe ought to have his butt spanked just in case.
She watched Timmerbach out of sight. “From now on we watch Timmerbach and Cholot. No need to be discreet about it, either.”
— 34 —
A. Neuelica. J. Claeica. S. Reinica. The pageant of systems rolled. The roster of bloodsheds for naught lengthened. There was no pattern. No one House had suffered abnormally. None in harm’s way had been spared.
WarAvocat had expected no less. The enemy’s stupidity was not tactical, it was strategic.
In transit from K. M’Danlica to M. Colica, WarAvocat moved into seldom visited Hall of the Stars, down against VII Gemina’s Core, where everything the Guardship fleet knew about its territory was projected in a display. The detail was as exhaustive and accurate as four millennia of observation could make it.
WarAvocat spent a work shift adrift there, then half another, till he thought he sensed something. Then he sent for Kez Maefele.
Security brought the baffled alien. The Ku’s bewilderment only increased when they just deposited him. “WarAvocat?”
“I want to solicit a professional opinion.”
“Military? Isn’t that absurd?”
“Some things change more than others. I’ve located a suit Gemina says will do you. The fit will be odd but you’ll be able to do everything you need to in it.”
“You want me to go EVA?”
“We’re going into near vacuum, but right here. The place is its own best explanation. If you will?” He indicated the suit he wanted the Ku to wear.
“It’s been a long time, WarAvocat.”
“I’m watching you.”
The Ku fumbled some with unfamiliar closures but he made no mistakes. War Avocat led him into Hall of the Stars.
“You’ve always had this? No wonder you defeated us. We made do with paper charts and our own memories.”
“The same system was on line. There’s more detail now.” WarAvocat moved them to the quadrant of interest. “This is the corner where we’re playing. The Sixth Presidency. Chart my first. The red line is the krekelen’s track. The green represents the course VII Gemina has made. They don’t match. We don’t want it obvious what we’re doing. And the earlier we get there the better our chance of catching them on the stool. Chart my second.”
Blue set off a globe seventy light years in diameter. “I believe, and Gemina and the Deified concur, that the krekelen started out somewhere in here. That’s where we’ll find whatever we’re supposed to find. I’m not taking the chase any closer. There’ll be alarms. I’d rather not give our adversary warning.”
“You appear to be maneuvering against what you would do were you running your enemy’s game.”
“I always go against myself. I’m the trickiest WarAvocat I’ve ever met.”
“Why am I here?”
“If he plans an ambush, he needs a place to set it. Chart my third.” The blue faded. “I used my own requirements for a site. Chart my fourth.” Most of the stellar information vanished.
“Three tag ends. None with anything to recommend it as more likely than the others. None have been explored. I’ve eliminated everything else.”
“So now we come to me.”
“Yes. You operated in this starspace. The Dire Radiant explored at least two of those tag ends. Could you use one to ambush a Guardship?”
WarAvocat wondered if he had bet wrong. Makarska Vis would make big noises if he had.
“There’s nothing off the ends of the farther two. The nearest is the only choice.”
“Why?”
“There is a lot of cold matter there. Some large enough for major basing. And the basing exists. We used that end space a long time. And it was used by the Go and pirates before us. I’d bet it’s been used by pirates since.”
“Any other reason for choosing that tag end?”
“It has a back door.”
“Explain, please.”
“A month of hard running in starspace takes you to the G. Witica — S. Satyrfaelia strand.”
“Chart. Show me the strand.” WarAvocat studied it carefully. “I should have seen that.” Would he have? Probably. In time. “Thank you for your help, Kez Maefele.”
“I did not help you, WarAvocat.”
“I know. You did it for the same reason you tried to warn them on V. Rothica 4. Access, OpsAvocat. This is WarAvocat. I have the information I need. Take us to Starbase.”
As he helped the Ku shed his suit he said, “I think I just gained another month on the bad guys.”
— 35 —
Valerena pretended a calm she did not feel as she took her seat. The Directorate room was like many such in which the courts of power had convened through the ages. Quiet, large, comfortably furnished, overly warm. She, Blessed, Lupo, and his friend were last to arrive. Maserang and Worgemuth pretended she did not exist. Old Commodo Hvar looked confused.
Valerena was confused. Lupo had brought his friend into the room. They had assumed stations behind the refreshments bar. Never before had Lupo intruded here, let alone one of his people. Provik was not a Director.
Then, too, her father and his Other were both present. They occupied opposite ends of the room and were having a great time trying to out-Simon one another. There was no telling which was which.
Blessed slumped in his seat, the bored scion present only by compulsion.
Lupo made the Directors nervous. They knew he was. His presence was not reassuring.
“All right! Let’s have a little order here!” one of the Simons bellowed. As though anyone was being rowdy.
“A little order! Knock off the farting around. We got desperate business.”
Only Blessed continued his show of indifference.
Everyone knew a conspiracy against Simon Tregesser had been discovered. Names had gotten around. Enemies of the accused were eager for the bloodletting. Friends viewed the future with trepidation. Maserang and Worgemuth faced it in stark terror.
Neither Simon mentioned the matter.
They went off on a zany duet about insurrections on worlds belonging to the House. According to them the Tregesser fortune was being bled white. The House was being gutted. All because of a few incompetent managers.
“We are being destroyed! Devoured! We have to act now, today! We have to get those fools out of there! We have to put in managers of proven skill and decisiveness. I call for — No! I demand! — a vote removing the following near-traitors, before they do us more harm.” He named six names. Valerena knew none of them. They could not be much. Eager to get to the blood feast, the Directors approved the dismissals immediately.
“In this extremity our proconsuls must be the best and most reliable.” He nominated Valerena, Blessed, Maserang, Worgemuth, and two old men he had loved to hate since childhood. He demanded a vote confirming their appointments.
Blessed was not bored anymore. He sat rigidly upright. He stared at Lupo, who smiled at some private joke.
Her timing perfect, Provik’s companion brought Valerena something aswirl with color in a tall, frosty glass. She said, “You owe Lupo a life.”
Valerena looked at Provik. He nodded.
So. This was fetor from Lupo’s brain. Clever. Cruel. Convince Simon that exile was a fate worse than death. She might have
guessed.
And was it not more cruel? Was it not? To be marooned a thousand light years from home and the wellsprings of power and her own intricate systems of security? Lupo would make sure there was no way out.
Right around the table those smug, grinning bastards voted to throw her off Tregesser Prime.
What choice did they have?
Defeat had become a rout.
And the conquerer was not done exacting his revenge. “The times are desperate! There isn’t a moment to waste! Voyagers await you, quivering to be on the Web and away! Hurry! Hurry now! The Voyagers await.”
What a marvelous family and existence.
“I’m going,” Valerena told Blessed. “But I won’t let him harry me into a frazzled rush.”
“Cover your home base, Mother. We won’t be gone long. He won’t last longer than it takes his Guardship to erase him.”
The two Simons charged around, tried to drive everyone out of the room. “I thought this was supposed to be a Directorate meeting....”
“Mother! Even I know nothing gets settled here. Grandfather decides how the vote will go before he calls a meeting.”
Valerena was thinking about her Others. In the tumult of a hasty move, some could get lost without being missed.
She smiled thinly. Then noted Blessed smiling his own smile.
What was that little wretch up to now?
“Will they be plotting against me again, Lupo?” Simon asked after the last Director left.
“Valerena and Worgemuth, certainly. Maserang is out of it. He was going along out of inertia.”
“And Blessed?”
“Valerena dragged him along.”
“I wish I could stick a knife in Worgemuth. But the old bastard has too many damned relatives.”
“You going back to the end space now?”
“I don’t want to miss this thing.”
“It might be months.”
“You’re sure a Guardship will come?”
“Pure reflex. Of course.”
“You have any doubts, Lupo?”
“Plenty. This’s been tried a hundred times. All we’ve got new is those shields and a lot of crazy Outsiders to do the dying.”