Mutiny on Outstation Zori (5 page)

Aura shook her long violet hair and continued packing. And just what was her cause, these days? she wondered. Had the political circumstances shifted, without notice, leaving her behind? The concept brought her back to staring at the black fist emblem all over again….

* * *

Turner Werch rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He took a deep breath and stretched the kinks out of his back. The work just never stopped piling up. His body felt stiff and sore from the hours of sitting hunched over reports and compscreens.

He walked the ten paces from his desk to the wet-bar and poured two-fingers of Hephaestian Scotch into a crystal goblet, carrying it back to his cluttered desk.

Three of his teams had already left Hyperion XI. This last one was all he could afford to spend on the Esper Shadow project.

He glanced through the report on FZ13. It was worse than he'd thought. The sector was almost completely unexplored. There was only one type 0, Band F star in the area, plus an Imperial Outstation. One of the stars
had
to be the location of the thieves' hideout. But there were rumors of Sire-Koval sightings in the zone. Could that be the cause of Janssen's contaminated gene-type? And to make matters worse, hostile attacks from Edorrian transports had made FZ13 a sector that many Core-dwellers chose to avoid.

No, it didn't look good, unless Jamie Clamber could focus the search to a single one of those stars, and thus cut down the mission's exposure by one third.

Turner took a deep drink of his Scotch and went back to scanning a readout on Clamber's psyche. Bright Law found him there when she came to remind him about the dinner appointment.

* * *

Dinner, served in the executive dining room on eighty-third floor overlooking the shimmering surface of Lake Bialer, consisted of sautéed burgers and rare Amthor wine.

"So much for good taste," Kleg grumbled.

Jamie thought it was rather unique.

After the remains of the dessert had been cleared, Turner Werch rose to speak. "Zaxt has given me the results of this afternoon's training session. He seems delighted, and I must say that I'm quite encouraged."

Jamie played with his water glass. This could either be very boring, or very interesting. The next few minutes would tell.

"I know," Werch went on, "that by now you each have a good idea of the mission's goals." He gave a nod to Zaxt, who stood up and began to display the details of a flat sleek-looking ship on his chest screen. "This is the exterior of an Esper Shadow," the businessman said. "It's capable of +30 lightspeed, which means it can travel across the Core in under four days."

Jamie leaned forward to get a closer view at the bot's screen.

"While on route to FZ13, I want Karr and Clamber to become familiar with its operation. You just might need to know how to fly one to these single-seaters. You will each be part of a matrix management assignment, with Karr as pilot, Clamber as co-pilot and scout, and Devor and her crew of three Qestans overseeing navigation and system ops."

Aura spoke up, "Neither Karr, nor I care for that part of the deal."

A new image appeared on Zaxt's chest. Jamie quickly recognized the star map, even though he'd never been near the sector.

Ignoring Aura's comment, Werch went on. "This is FZ13. It is fifteen LY's wide at the Core and stretches out to the Great Unknown. Unless Mr. Clamber can be more definite about his friend's possible location, you could be out there for a long time."

The image on the bot's chest changed once more. This time it showed a shimmering gas cloud floating in blackness.

"I think it's only fair to tell you that there have been several sightings of Sire-Koval in this sector. Little is known about these 'energy creatures'. They seem to communicate telepathically, travel at near light speed on their own, and deliver a powerful mental shock if provoked. Unconfirmed reports claim that they can assume human form."

Jamie noticed that Kleg had stopped playing with his napkin and was listening intently.

Werch finished with: "Are there any questions about this assignment?"

Kleg pointed at Zaxt. "Why the bot-spy?"

"I never spy," Zaxt answered.

"So you say, shiny. If not, then why do we need him along at all?"

"Zaxt is a diplomatic/public relations bot," Werch responded. "If you know anything about his design, you'll understand that he'll be a valuable asset during first contact or negotiations. Also, he'll provide a portable access to reference data from the Imperial Codex. His duties will be to assist navigation and offer alternatives during a crisis."

"What sort of crisis?" Jamie asked.

"Any sort of crisis."

Aura said, "Like if we should happen to encounter an Edorrian warship?"

"What?" Kleg asked. "Who said anything about meeting Blue Meanys? Turner, I want to re-negotiate my contract. Now. "

The businessman raised his palms and nodded. "All right, I'll pay a thirty percent bonus should you have a run in with any reps from that militaristic empire. Their home world is somewhere out in FZ10 through 15, we think. But your chances of encountering them are extremely slim. Are there any other questions? No? Then, I advise you to get as much rest as possible. Karr's ship will be ready to leave in the morning. Good luck."

Jamie rose with the others and moved toward the exit. He felt he had some of the answers to his many questions, but he was still uncomfortable about the command structure within the mission. He doubted that he could take orders from Karr, or even Devor.

"Mr. Clamber," Werch called from behind him. "Can we talk for a moment?"

Turner and Zaxt were heading through another door to a private vator. Jamie walked over and the businessman ushered him aboard. They dropped to Werch's office, where the stacks of plastexts were piled even higher than the last time Jamie had been here.

Werch went straight to the bar as soon as they entered the room. "Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Clamber?"

Zaxt walked to the cluttered desk and waited a word.

"No thanks," Jamie answered. "I've enough addictions, already."

The businessman paused for a second and then poured himself a generous helping of amber liquid. "You're a very private man, Mr. Clamber. And not as much of a team player as I would have liked." Werch sighed and reclined into the chair behind his desk, while Jamie chose to stand. "While you're out there in FZ13, I won't be able to help you."

"Help me?"

"You'll be on your own, without a friend. Unless you make one."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Werch."

"I looked over your profile and the results of your shared training session. As I said, you're not a team player."

Jamie felt his blood rising. What was this guy getting at?

"Nor are you performing at your peak. What are you holding back? Don't you have any sense of comradeship?"

"I had plenty of comradeship with Cast Janssen before he...

"You were going to say 'died,' weren't you? But now you're not so sure that he's dead."

Jamie swallowed, thickly. "Mr. Werch, I'll be honest with you. I don't care for the way you're setting up this expedition. Why employ a known smuggler and rabble-rouser like Aura Devor and a notorious raider like Kleg Karr? Yes, I've been doing a little research while waiting in room. Those two are like matter/anti-matter. If I'd known who they were before sharing that HAVENset with them, I'd never have gone along with it."

Turner Werch smiled. "Exactly."

"Now who's not being a team player?"

"I'm one of the five heads of business on Hyperion XI," Werch explained dryly. "Some people call me a kingpin. I've gotten where I am balancing risk against opportunity."

"What sort of team is this?"

"I share your concern about the hostile natures of your team members, but feel it is necessary under the circumstances. Karr is an untrustworthy ass, but he's also perhaps the luckiest man alive and a damn good pilot. Devor is an idealist and a spoiled leader of a rebel group that is rapidly falling apart, but she's a semi-telepath and a skilled criminologist who can still inspire her Qestan followers. One provides the ship you will travel and work in, the other provides the crew. Each of these contributions and skills will be valuable should you encounter trouble during your mission. Matrix management, Mr. Clamber; that is how I balance the forces of risk to create an opportunity."

"And what about me?" Jamie asked. "What am I balanced by?"

"You are the fulcrum; a very important and useful instrument when Janssen and the ships are located. I bear you no grudge and see you as no threat. You have no history of violence or intrigue, so you need no balancing. You do, however, have an attitude problem."

"Which is?"

Werch glanced down again at the report. "As far as I can tell, you hesitate to press your advantage under stress and often disregard or ignore threatening circumstances."

"I don't need your pocket psychiatry," Jamie said bitterly. "I'm nobody's instrument or tool. And regardless of your theories of matrix management, I still don't like this assignment."

Werch shrugged. "I'm sorry feel that way. There's the door. Why not use it?"

"Because..." Jamie started abruptly, and then hesitated. "Because I still want to find my friend and..." He heard his voice trail off into silence.

"Where is your friend, Clamber? You could do a lot to cut this mission down to size, if you'd tell me where in FZ13 you think Janssen may have gone."

Why am I holding back
, Jamie thought.
More money? Better job security? Fear that I'll be left behind? Werch has done nothing to threaten me, so why don't I make life easier for everyone and name the place Cast wanted to visit?

"Mr. Clamber?" Turner cleared his throat. "As you can see, I'm up to my neck in planning here. I need—we need an answer."

"All right." Jamie studied the carpet, and then looked up at the other man's florid face. "I think he might be on Zori."

Turner Werch raised his eyebrows. "Zori is an Imperial Outstation. Why would he want to go there?'

"I don't really know. He just said he imagined it would be a good place to visit someday. That's all."

The businessman swallowed his drink. "Zaxt, change the navigation coordinates to those of Station Zori. Access data files for all available info on Imperial Outstations, both restricted and unrestricted, and store it for review and analysis." He directed his attention to Jamie again. "Thank you, Mr. Clamber. You'd best be getting along to rest up for the trip."

Jamie felt somewhat relieved. As if he no longer carried an oppressive responsibility by himself. "Aren't you shutting down for the night, too?" he asked with genuine concern.

Werch gestured at the piles of work on his desk. "The market opens in ten minutes."

Jamie nodded, accepting this. He felt oddly reassured, but still cautious. He went back to the vator. "You're right," he said, smiling weakly, "I could use a friend." The vator took him down to his floor and he spent the rest of the night his quarters.

* * *

Turner Werch watched the young pilot step into the vator. He reached out and studied Jamie's psyche readout for the third time that evening. "I'd hoped I could trust Mr. Clamber," he sighed. "But it looks like you'll have to take care of him along with the rest of them, Zaxt."

"Very good, sir," the silver bot responded.

CHAPTER 4

The next morning, Jamie awoke still troubled about the previous evening's conversation with Werch. He had to admit that the executive had seen straight through to the heart of his inner feelings; probably the effects of a telepathic assistant, or a series of surveillance devices.

Jamie began glancing around the room for concealed eavesdropping equipment. A brief search from floor to ceiling uncovered nothing. But this only made him worry more. Then he realized abruptly how paranoid he was acting and shrugged it off with a grin.

The grin faded when he found Zaxt standing outside the door of his quarters. "Good morning," the bot smiled, reaching for Clamber's bags. "There's just enough time for a repast before transporting up to the
Dagger
. You slept well, I hope."

Jamie started off down the corridor. "How long have you been waiting out here?"

"I just arrived," Zaxt answered. "Had to help reprogram the ship's nav unit. I also loaded supplies for our mission, sorted several hundred communiques for Turner Werch, and conducted a thorough analysis of—"

"All right, already. I get the picture." If Zaxt intended to respond so fully to every query put to him, this going to be a long trip, indeed.

"All right," the bot agreed, "already."

Jamie sighed, feeling the beginnings of a mild headache.

After a quick breakfast, the members of the team caught a skimmer and rode the skystalk up to the dockstation where their ship waited. Jamie used the time to become more familiar the info Zaxt made available on his chest screen, regarding their destination.

FZ13 was perhaps the most under-developed zone surrounding the Core. They have to travel over 100 light-years to get there, which meant at least a week in hyperdrive. The nearest Core civilization was Alcaid, a site Jamie had heard only little about.

Frontier Zone 14 lay "next door," spinward. It housed another Imperial Outstation, which at first glance appeared to be lights away, but Zaxt explained that the two stations were much farther apart due to differences in their depths within the Zone and their positions around the Corecliptic. FZ12, one Zone anti-spinward of their destination, was completely empty; a rarity that did not escape Jamie's attention.

Arriving at the port tube leading through the docks, the circuit-jockey caught a glimpse of the ship he was to co-pilot into FZ13. The
Dagger
, a surprisingly small raider, rested quietly in its tractor nest. The polished surface of the scout craft was designed to repel laser fire. Fast and light, the ship sported fore-mounted Mk 20 Cannons and seemed well-suited for insurgency missions conducted by a man like Kleg Karr.

When Jamie and Zaxt stepped through the main lock, they heard a familiar sound; the raised voices of Aura and Kleg.

"Listen, pinhead," the woman screeched, "keep away from my men!"

"Keep your men off my ship!"

Jamie came into the
Dagger'
s tiny control room and found his two "associates" standing toe to toe. Each glared deeply into the other's eyes. Shimmering waves of hate seemed to surround them.

"You Replicates are all alike." Karr actually growled. "Can't keep your hands off anything that isn't yours."

Aura's green eyes flared. "I'm going to put hands on your throat in half of a second, mister."

Kleg's fingerless-gloved hand moved closer to the platinum handle of a pulse-pistol strapped to his thigh.

"Hey team," Zaxt waved. "Ready for a little high adventure in the vast cold reaches of outer space?"

Aura looked in their direction through slitted eyes. The cabin was silent for a nano, except for the beeps and pings of operational systems. Then the beginnings of a smile tugged at her wide mouth.

Jamie cleared his throat. "Turner tells me you two are supposed to balance each other." He shifted the load of equipment that he carried on his shoulders. "One has the ship and the other the crew. Seems fair to me. Where do I stow my gear?"

"Take it aft," Kleg said.

"Take it fore," Aura said.

"He can't take it fore," Kleg spat. "There aren't any compartments in front of this one. We're in the control cabin."

"He can stow it in the empty lockers under the command console," Aura replied bitingly.

"Hey," Jamie called, "no sweating, okay? Zaxt will take care of it."

"I will, sir?"

"Take care of it, Zaxt."

"Yessir." The bot moved aft with the baggage.

"Nice ship you've got here, Kleg." Clamber hoped to change the subject and defuse the confrontation. "'Jadefleet design, isn't she?"

"Was. I've made a few modifications."

Clamber bent to inspect the nav station, letting his fingers move over several of the pressure-sensitive keys. "Yes, sir. A fine ship. Must do close to 12.5 translight."

"More like 15." Kleg shot a glance in Aura's direction. "If certain people leave her alone."

"My people need training time," Aura responded. "Especially if they're expected to function as an effective crew on a can like this."

"Can?"

"What strength thrusters and tractor beams is she carrying?" Jamie attempted to guide the conversation back on the ship's design. "After all, a co-pilot is supposed to be familiar with the vessel he's co-piloting."

Kleg shifted his attention back and forth between Jamie and Aura, as if plotting another snide comment. But the words that came out of his mouth were calm and business-like. "Maneuvering thrusters are rated at 15. Tractors at 20. The ship's prize possession is an experimental cloak that can render it 'invisible' to outside sensor detection."

Jamie whistled silently.

Aura swirled her cape and strode aft. "Certain people have better things to do than stand around discussing hardware."

Jamie continued to ask about the ship's specs for the next ten minutes, at which time the
Dagger
received clearance to exit the bay.

The pilot and co-pilot strapped in and exchanged passage codes with the skystalk's computer. The tractor nest dropped and the ship maneuvered away from the dock, into the crowded region of space surrounding Hyperion XI. An hour later, they were accelerating at sublight 10 from the Cavon Province, Turner Werch, and PANIC Inc.

* * *

Jamie downloaded the contents of his mosaic screen and stood, stretching the tightness from his lower back. He would have to see about adjusting the co-pilot's seat, or he'd arrive at Zori a hunchback.

"I'm going to check on my things," he told Karr. "Just to make sure Zaxt hasn't shredded them."

Kleg grunted his consent, as Jamie moved aft, closing the hatch to the command center behind him. He relished being away from Karr and exploring the rest of this unusual ship.

Two of Aura's crewmembers were in the ship's engineering compartment. They seemed ordinary enough. Each was Humanoid with sober, almost unmoving features. Qestans were a plain looking people, if you discounted their shared penchant for gaudy dress. One wore an orange and black diagonally striped tunic and polka-dot vest; the other, a madras robe, open from top to bottom, exposing a peach shirt and checkered kilt. Jamie's headache grew stronger.

He wandered into the ship's small, but comfortable observation lounge. The lighting was dim and the room empty save for the soft-sculpture furniture and wide viewport. Beyond and outside the
Silver Dagger
, the stars silently beckoned.

They had always beckoned to him. A Cavonian by birth, Jamie had been transferred to the Frontier at the age of sixteen and had scratched out a living as a circuit-jockey ever since. He worked hard, accepting the responsibility of his clients with determined seriousness, pausing only at occasional moments like this, to gaze out at the luminous star field.

He had been contracted for three circuits along the same route by First Transport Lines, a shady subsidiary of House Paethor. He'd carried miscellaneous goods and traded at the best profit margins he could find. He was considered trustworthy and competent. At first, his 6000-ton freighter, the
Shane
, had belonged to the Company, but Jamie eventually bought it, even though the vessel showed serious signs of aging. It was damned disturbing when a part fell off during an junket. Still, it kept him moving, and he could commune with his stellar companions, an interest he'd picked up from his old friend, Cast Janssen.

Again the question of Cast's whereabouts rose in Jamie's thoughts. Regardless of the differences in their appearances, the two men had been like brothers. Cast, whose head always seemed a little too large for his frail, two-meter tall build, had smooth skin and nictating membranes in his eyelids, which made him seem to appear wise beyond his years. But Jamie knew better.

Originally from the Paethor Province, the pilot had jokingly claimed to be the black sheep of the Royal Family. However, Jamie had stumbled into the truth of his partner's background, while transmitting transport codes and visa info in the Bujold Belt.

The truth was that Cast came from the Paethoran lower caste. He had worked his way up to freedom by saving his owner from certain death during a religious ceremony. As a new member of the free caste, he'd been unable to own land, but had been permitted to rent a transport license after successfully passing the pilot's exam and paying a stiff fee. From that time on, he'd shuttled equip for the major corps in the Paethor Province, until some altercation had caused him to head out for the empty spaces of Frontier Zone 5.

The empty spaces now in front of Jamie's view shifted slightly as the
Dagger
increased speed. The star-spattered vision still thrilled him, setting a prickling down his spine, even when he had so little info about where in space he was headed.

Aura's voice seemed to creep up from behind him in the dark. "Shouldn't you be
doing
something?"

Jamie turned, mildly embarrassed at being caught musing. "I—uh—was just calculating our position relative ah—to..."

"You were drifting," Aura said, like the telepath she was. She stepped forward into the muted light, joining him at the viewport. "Wandering in space."

It was true, of course, but Jamie decided not to confirm her interpretation of his mood. Instead he stood quietly beside the woman, feeling the stirrings of a tension that was more than embarrassment.

"I often wander myself," she on in hushed tones. "Or at least wish that I could. But the responsibilities of my position with the Qestans and the Dark, leave me with little time to..." She let the words drift into the shadows.

"Tell me about the Dark," Jamie said, quietly.

She searched his eyes. "They're—we are a small band of rebels in a very large Imperium. We've been known to use electronic espionage, blackmail and even a little looting of Imperial satellites, for the good of the Cause: equality of the masses, anti-imperialism and peace." She rested her weight against one of the cushioned chairs. It was an awkward stance, but one that put Jamie more at ease. "Peace. Something I've seen very little of." Her gaze went back out to the stars.

Jamie thought about her comments for a moment. "How much of what you just said do you really believe?"

"Most of it," she replied. "A little. I don't know. That's why I'm here. To get my head straight. To get away fresh. Wander for a while." She looked down at nothing. "I've been having trouble lately making up my mind."

"About what?"

"Things. Big things. Little things. It's hard to describe, really. I woke up one morning and found that a large group of my people had left my organization without discussion."

"Maybe they were lured away."

"No. They were dissatisfied with how I was running things. So they just packed up and left in the middle of the night, probably never to return. I began to question the importance of what we were trying to accomplish. Ever since then, it's been harder and harder to make a decision. That can be fatal to a political leader." She looked up at him, wearing that half-smile. "I can't afford a fatality at this stage of my career."

It occurred to Jamie that she had just revealed an inner secret, as if
he
were the one with the mild telepathic abilities. He felt self-conscious about treading on her thoughts and didn't know quite what to do when another person's feelings were exposed unexpectedly.

"So, you brought along a few of your followers, cut back your responsibilities, and planned this project as a sort of working vacation."

"Yes, but I'm not sure that I haven't brought most of my troubles along, too."

"What do you mean?"

She stood erect again. "When you lead a small independent group such as mine, you are constantly dealing with doubt and deceit. You must have noticed the unusual or suspicious aspects of this mission."

Jamie put his hands behind him, resting them on his sore lower back. "Yes. Some things have been a little strange. Turner pulling the whole thing together, for one. I'm sure he could have bought the information under the table, instead of financing our operations. And, Kleg, a dubious ally at best, allowing himself to be a part of a routine search mission, for another. What do your mental powers tell you about him?"