The Star-Keeper Imperative

by C N Samson

  “It’s treason,” Rheinborne breathed.

  “Technically it’s not, but it’s treated as such.” Gwynne went on to say that Valicia was a prime candidate to receive the device. Because of her brain injuries, she was required to have a checkup with a cerebral specialist at least once a year. It was during one of these visits that the XCM was implanted.

  “Who else knows?” asked Rheinborne.

  “On this ship? Myself, Dr. Seldra, and now you.”

  “Norland?”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  A cold fear now came over Rheinborne. “But if the Anti-PSI finds out, then—”

  “Execution for her, and for everyone else who knows about her. It’s a serious thing, all right, but it’s all been for the greater good.” Gwynne steepled his fingers. “You didn’t need to know, but now that you do, does it change anything?”

  “Operationally, no.”

  “And personally?”

  Rheinborne had no answer for that. Instead he asked, “What about all the public safeguards and detectors?”

  “Back in the pre-Occupation era, she definitely would have been caught,” Gwynne admitted. “But these days, with the Phostilans all but extinct, people have become less vigilant. And anyway, if they haven’t found her out by now, they never will.”

  Rheinborne left the office. More questions occurred to him, but he thrust them aside. He already knew more than he wanted to.

  BACK IN HIS BERTH, Rheinborne used the data terminal to access information about the Widgner Trading Station. It was originally a hollowed-out asteroid, used as housing for the Sorvandra atmosphere miners; but when the mining operations ended, a local trillionaire—

  The sound of the door chime interrupted Rheinborne’s reading.

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door slid aside. Kassyrinx, the sidhreen, stepped inside.

  “Greetings, my good son,” he said. “I’ve just dropped in to say—” He gazed around, let out a harsh croak. “Great Lord God of All! Is this where they’ve kept you?”

  “Gwynne said it’s the only quarters available.”

  Kassyrinx’s head crest rose. “Inmates on prison barges get more space than this! Haven’t you protested?”

  “I didn’t know that was an option,” Rheinborne replied.

  “Worry you not, good friend,” Kassyrinx said with an emphatic nod. “I’ll have this rectified immediately.”

  “It’s all right, I don’t—”

  The sidhreen warbled, cutting him off. “Those who serve their government deserve better living spaces than this offensive boot locker. Gather your things, if you have any, and wait for my call.” He swiftly departed, a few tiny feathers swirling in his wake.

  Rheinborne wasn’t quite sure what to make of Kassyrinx, or why he even cared; but if the sidhreen could get him moved to a berth with even a foot or two more room, he’d be fine with it.

  AS IT TURNED OUT, KASSYRINX more than delivered. Rheinborne had gotten the call half an hour later, and had been directed to a cabin on Deck One. It was ten square feet in area, spacious compared to his previous accommodations, and contained simulated-wood furniture.

  “How did you manage it?” Rheinborne asked Kassyrinx as they stood in the middle of the room. “I’m pretty sure this is for visiting officers only.”

  “Would you believe that the quartermaster has never once been to the Vantierre Diamond? I simply promised him and his wife a complimentary one-night stay, in return for moving you out of that insect trap.”

  “You promised him? How?”

  “My apologies, sometimes I forget myself.” Kassyrinx produced a business card, blank except for a data-retrieval code. Rheinborne’s ECM scanned the code, and the card text appeared in his visual field:

  KASSYRINX

  GENERAL MANAGER

  Vantierre Diamond Hotel & Casino

  Orbital Habitat VT-091

  Treilath, Home System

  “I see,” said Rheinborne, saving the text to his module. “I thought you were DSI.”

  “Not in any official capacity that can be reliably traced, of course. Our friend Gwynne relies on me to smooth the way forward, when the situation requires.”

  “Kind of like a fixer?”

  “Such a pedestrian term, with unsavory connotations,” Kassyrinx answered. “But, functionally, yes.”

  Rheinborne held out a hand. “Thanks much for getting me the room upgrade. I guess I owe you one.”

  “Indeed you do, Mr. Rheinborne,” said Kassyrinx as they shook hands. “Indeed you do.”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS PASSED uneventfully, save for a couple of things. Once, Rheinborne tried to enter the cryosleep bay to look in on Valicia, but his tracker band flashed red and the door refused to open. Clearly, the bay was one of the off-limits areas.

  Another time, he went to the recreation lounge and saw Hurgompo battling a sparring robot, operated by one of the crewmembers in a telepresence rig. The odds were three to one against the hrulaphan, but Hurgompo managed to defeat the mechanoid.

  When the Adventurer arrived at the outer edge of the Sorvandra system, she dropped back into normal space and approached the fourth planet at sublight.

  Gwynne called everyone back to the conference room for a final meeting. As they seated themselves around the table, Rheinborne asked Valicia about her gunshot bruises.

  “Both healed,” she said. “I’m fit for duty, so Dr. Seldra says.”

  “Good, good,” Rheinborne said. “I, ah, like your outfit.”

  Valicia glanced down at herself. Her attire was a purple military-inspired jumpsuit with silver piping.

  Kassyrinx chirped in agreement. “Yes, quite tasteful.” The sidhreen wore a short red coat over a gray tunic, while Hurgompo was clad in his utility vest and kilt. Rheinborne himself wore the same style of clothes that he had on in Langensbern.

  “If you’re done with the fashion critiques, may we begin?” Gwynne asked. When no one answered, he continued speaking. “Very well. This will likely be the last time I’ll be seeing you folks in person, for a while at least. Once you’ve acquired the component, you’ll travel directly to Treilath and proceed to the Institute.”

  Rheinborne understood that to mean the Galactic Institute of Antiquities.

  “I’ll be waiting there to receive it,” the DSI man continued. “And then...” A faraway look crept into his eyes. “And then, we’ll see what the future holds, eh?”

  A silent moment passed. Rheinborne gave a little cough. Gwynne snapped out of his thoughts and said that everyone’s luggage would be taken down to the hangar bay, where one of the ship’s shuttles would ferry them over to the station.

  “What about weapons?” Rheinborne asked.

  “Not allowed,” said Gwynne.

  Hurgompo made a blatting noise with his trunk, evidently disappointed at that news.

  “Okay, what about comms, then?”

  Gwynne told everyone to set their ECMs to sectac frequency 11-Victory, then generated a seven-digit number on the conference table’s display surface. “That’s your common sync code. Go ahead and mesh now.”

  Seconds after Rheinborne had done so, he received a check-ping from the modules of Valicia and the two aliens, confirming that they were all properly linked on the secure channel.

  “You’ll also have to mesh with your new associates,” Gwynne said. He tapped the tabletop, and a pair of holo-images sprang up. The first was that of a distinguished-looking man; the fact-box beneath him read:

  Name: Angus Drummond

  Age: 49

  Place of birth: Treilath

  Title: Ship’s Captain

  License: S-type transport Libertine

  The second image showed a smiling, short-haired young woman:

  Name: Petala Two-Saints

  Age: 20

  Place of birth: Treilath

  Title: Ship’s Engineer (GEG)

  License: S-type transport Libertine

>   “They’re residents of the station,” Gwynne said. “I’ve already chartered their ship. They’ll be expecting you.”

  “Oh nice, more people on the team?” said Rheinborne. “How big is this operation going to get, anyway?”

  Gwynne cast him a withering look. “Captain Drummond is an old friend of mine. He and his niece can be trusted without question.”

  “Is he the best pilot in the galaxy?” Rheinborne asked. “Is his ship the fastest in all of known space?”

  At this, Gwynne stood up, leaned his fists on the table, glowered at Rheinborne.

  “Better and faster are not the only criteria,” the DSI man said coolly.

  “Sorry, just asking,” Rheinborne said with a shrug.

  “Fine,” Gwynne said, sitting back down. “Now’s let’s continue.” He handed out cash sticks and new inter-passes to the group, saying that their collective cover would be that of a private mineral-prospecting team, seeking a ship to take them to a planet where a probe had reported a number of promising finds.

  “And what about contingencies, in case anything goes wrong?” asked Rheinborne.

  “That’s why you’re on the team,” Gwynne said tersely. “To make sure things go right. Good luck to you all.” He rose from the table and departed the conference room.

  Rheinborne suspected that he had somehow offended the man, but whatever; this would likely be the last time they’d see each other, at least until the mission was over.

  “All right, let’s get to the hangar bay,” said Valicia.

  The four of them filed out of the conference room and headed toward the nearest lift.

  Hurgompo strode up beside Rheinborne and asked, “Hey, you fighter, yes?” His voice was deep and creaky.

  “Fighter? Not exactly,” Rheinborne replied.

  “Military?”

  “Yeah, I did my service. After that, I joined the Treilath PSR—Patrol, Search, and Rescue.”

  Hurgompo flapped his huge ears. “How I join? How I become patrolman?”

  Rheinborne said that while there were many hrulaphans in the PSR support staff, none of his species were field officers.

  “I be first one, then,” Hurgompo said, and tapped Rheinborne in the chest with his trunk. “You recommend me, yes?”

  “Ah, sure,” Rheinborne said. He didn’t mention that he wasn’t on good terms with the Patrol anymore, but figured that he probably wouldn’t see the hrulaphan again after the mission.

  They arrived at the lift and entered. Valicia specified the hangar deck as the destination. Moments after the lift hummed into motion, the lights flashed blue, and three long tones sounded. That was the signal that the ship had entered planetary orbit.

  Rheinborne stared straight ahead, mulling over Gwynne’s response to the question about contingency plans. If the DSI had been compromised, and if other departments had similar corruption, then Gwynne had good reason to only call upon people that he personally trusted. And that, of course, meant that if things did go wrong, there wouldn’t be any assistance from the Treilath military or law enforcement agencies. Maybe a few of the Adventurer’s robots or security personnel would be available; but other than that, he and his team would be on their own.

  CHAPTER 18

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, the four of them occupied the passenger section of the shuttle. Valicia and Hurgompo sat together on one side of the aisle, while Rheinborne and Kassyrinx were seated beside each other on the opposite side.

  Kassyrinx peered out the viewport, making little chirping sounds. A number of other ships could be seen in orbit around the gas giant, waiting their turn to dock at Widgner.

  “Ever been there?” Rheinborne asked.

  “Many people have advised me never to set foot within that place,” Kassyrinx said. “Now I’ll see for myself if such a reputation is deserved.” He emitted a low whistle. “One thing they’re right about. The exterior construction is breathtakingly ugly.”

  Rheinborne agreed. The asteroid that composed the bulk of the Widgner Trading Station was pierced by a metal lift shaft through its north-south axis. A large disk-shaped structure, the docking platform, sat atop the north end of the shaft. Below the docking platform was another, smaller disk, which Rheinborne recalled was the arboretum.

  An engineering module with attached solar panels capped the south end of the shaft. The asteroid itself was a rocky body roughly three miles in diameter; its surface was encrusted with greeble, to the extent that little rock remained exposed. A myriad of colored lights blinked on many of the station’s structures; most were for navigation, others seemed purely decorative.

  “How long have you been friends with Gwynne?” Rheinborne asked.

  “Friends is too strong a term,” Kassyrinx replied. “Our association is based on mutual benefit.”

  “And Hurgompo? Is he Gwynne’s friend?”

  “Not at all.” Kassyrinx explained that Hurgompo was the youngest son of the Vantierre Diamond’s Chief Security Officer, with aspirations to become “a great warrior,” just like his father.

  “So he’s getting some real life experience, eh?” Rheinborne observed.

  “From what I’ve seen, Hurgompo will most assuredly become the warrior he wishes to be.”

  AFTER RECEIVING LANDING clearance, the shuttle glided into the topmost level of the docking structure and touched down in its assigned circle, amid a number of other similar-sized spacecraft. Rheinborne was the last one off the shuttle, which took off again several minutes later.

  The group fell in line with other arriving passengers, waiting to be processed into the station. Rheinborne noted that, unlike in Langensbern, aliens were welcome in Widgner. Whole families of sidhreen and hrulaphans mingled with humans, all carrying a variety of luggage and parcels.

  Half an hour later, Rheinborne and the others were processed through. They stored their baggage in a public locker, then took a passenger lift down to the station’s main commercial floor, located within the body of the asteroid at the uppermost level.

  Rheinborne carried his messenger bag, which contained his nano food cubes and other necessaries. Valicia wore a waist pack, while Hurgompo’s vest pockets bulged with his essential items. Only Kassyrinx looked like he was traveling light, though Rheinborne had seen the sidhreen put his cash stick and inter-pass into an inner pocket of his coat.

  “WIDGNER STATION WELCOMES YOU!” a synthesized voice proclaimed as they exited the lift. It went on to say other things that were lost in the cacophony of sounds that rose up to the rough stone roof of the vast space. To Rheinborne, the whole place felt as if the Alchromia District and shopping malls of Langensbern had been crammed together beneath a single dome. All around were free-standing stalls, booths, and low buildings, each housing some kind of shop or vendor.

  “Don’t use the public infolink,” Valicia said. “We need to find a dedicated directory terminal.” Her voice was hard to hear above the shouts of people advertising their wares, music blaring from hidden speakers, and the general babble of the horde of visitors to the station. A great cheer rose up in the distance, no doubt from some group whose sports team had just scored.

  Rheinborne gazed around and spotted a blue holosign with the universal symbol for “information.” He pointed it out to Valicia, who asked Hurgompo to lead the way there. The hrulaphan obliged, and the group set off through the crowd in the direction of the sign.

  As they walked, Rheinborne ignored Valicia’s warning and accessed the station’s infolink through his ECM. A vast number of virtual ads bombarded him as he browsed, causing him to disconnect in disgust.

  Up ahead, a bald man in shabby black robes shouted, “Beware, for the Cloud of Gold is near! It will cover all, the great and the small!” He spotted Hurgompo, rushed over and seized hold of his vest. “You, sir! Have you—gaaah!” The man cried out as Hurgompo swished his trunk and slapped him away.

  “There wouldn’t happen to be a mountain of unwashed undergarments nearby, would there?” Kassyrinx asked, a f
eathered hand over his face.

  Rheinborne sniffed. The air held a variety of smells, but the dominant one was a musty-sweet odor. “Atmosphere masking must be working overtime,” he said. “If it wasn’t working at all, you’d be wishing you’d worn a spacesuit.”

  The group reached the site of the holosign, a glass-walled room set in the curved rock wall of the asteroid. Through a transparent door, Rheinborne saw three long-screen directory terminals, all being used at the moment.

  “I’ll go in and look up the captain,” said Valicia. “Wait for me out here.” She entered the directory room and stood in line for one of the terminals.

  Hurgompo and Kassyrinx began conversing with each other. Rheinborne leaned against the wall, feigning a casual stance but maintaining alertness. It was only now that he allowed himself to consider the possibility that Anti-PSI operatives were lurking about. He scrutinized everyone who came near, assessing their potential to be a psi-hunter.

  But after a while, he willed himself to relax. Valicia’s module surely had excellent shielding, otherwise she’d have been caught out long ago. Still, the fact that she had forbidden tech implanted in her brain didn’t sit well with him. The potential for discovery was uncomfortably high.

  Valicia came out of the directory room several minutes later.

  “Captain Drummond wasn’t answering,” she said, “but I talked to his niece. She says he might be in the casino.”

  “Oh great, a gambler,” Rheinborne said.

  “She’s down on the second level, suite A-310, a shop called Nadia’s Bod Mods.”

  “Getting a piercing or something?”

  “No, giving tattoos.”

  “I thought she’s the ship’s engineer?”

  “It’s a side gig. Perhaps you and Kassyrinx could go and meet her?”

  “Sure, we could do that,” Rheinborne answered. “But can’t we just meet them at their ship?”

  “I’d prefer it if we accompanied them,” Valicia said. “Hurgompo and I will go and collect the captain. We’ll regroup on this level at the main lifts. Let’s do a comm check first.”