Aboard the Valkyrie an hour later, the return of the shuttle ship from planetside met with a variety of reactions, depending upon whether one was a passenger or a member of the crew. For the crew, it was hardly a matter for rejoicing, since the change in schedule had cost them the bonuses promised if the Valkyrie’s speed sprint had been successful.
Few passengers really minded, however, for the unexpected stop at B-Gem provided a welcome break in the monotony of long-distance space flight, even aboard a great luxury liner like the Valkyrie. Taking on new passengers and exotic cargoes was one of the highlights of any long trip, and an unscheduled stop at one of the Empire’s outer worlds was almost guaranteed to pique the interest of even the most seasoned star traveler.
Nor was the management of the Gruening Line blind to this fascination. Long in the business of catering to the wishes of a wealthy and sometimes eccentric clientele, Gruening had provided an observation deck, above the shuttle bays, where interested passengers could watch the docking operations from behind safety ports and not get in the way of the crew. Less active passengers could even observe from the privacy of their cabins, via closed-circuit viewers. The ship’s recreation computer correlated fifteen video channels, several having to do with routine operation of the ship, plus a wealth of library functions designed to amuse and inform.
Hence, the observation deck had attracted more than a dozen passengers for the B-Gem rendezvous. More might have come, but the ship’s day had begun only an hour before, and many were still asleep in their berths. A handful of adults watched with casual interest, a few exotically clad aliens among them, but it was the children who had turned out in full force—who always seemed to know when a docking would take place. Five of the youngsters, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, clung to the railings behind the observation ports this morning; they obviously itched to go down on the loading docks for a closer look at the shuttle, the new passengers, and any interesting-looking cargo that might be coming aboard.
The new passengers disembarked first, each individual or party being met by a steward who conducted them to the purser’s check-in, just inside the passenger reception lounge. The Valkyrie’s captain was also on hand to greet the passengers, though his motives were less of sociability than of vexed curiosity as he waited for the other passengers, one in particular, who had virtually commandeered his vessel. A man of impeccable abilities, and humors as dark as his handsome face, Captain George Lutobo was not likely to dismiss lightly the fact that he had been forced to mar the Gruening Line’s reputation for precision scheduling—his mood was becoming darker by the minute. When a break came in the line of passengers waiting to check in with the purser, Lutobo drifted over to the foot of the shuttle ramp long enough to snap at a baggage handler bringing down expensive-looking luggage.
“One break in the normal routine, and the whole operation falls apart,” he grumbled, pacing back toward the purser. “Mister Diaz, what is going on?”
The bleat of an all-clear signal in the adjoining bay drowned out his words, and Lutobo realized that the man could not have heard him. Diaz had piles of customs declarations, visas, passports, and other travel documents all over his desk, in an order that apparently made sense to him but probably not to anyone else. He was presently logging in a med chip for a family of three, asking the usual questions about any special requirements of diet or preferred environment.
“Mister Diaz,” the captain repeated.
Diaz glanced up, nodding slightly as he saw that it was the captain.
“Good morning, Captain. How can I help you?”
The captain tried unsuccessfully to control a scowl. “This Commodore Seton—has he come aboard yet?”
“Seton? No, sir. I think he and his people are still with their cargo. Someone brought their papers, though.”
With a grudging nod, the captain picked up the stack of passports and shuffled through them until he found what he was looking for: Seton, Mather V.; Fleet Commodore, Imperial Navy (Ret.); Ph.D. linguistics, psychology; clearance 1-A-1. The passport itself bore a codicil endorsed by Prince Cedric, the brother of the emperor, guaranteeing a credit line whose upper limit was not even specified, though Lutobo knew that the code letter after it would return an astronomical figure if he ran a credit check.
Lutobo harrumphed at that, glaring at the “retired” notation and glaring more at the 1-A-1 clearance, then dropped the stack of passports back on the purser’s desk and strode purposefully toward the shuttle ship hatch. As he reached the foot of the ramp, two Imperial Rangers in dark green coveralls appeared at the top, carefully guiding an anti-grav dolly clamped under a huge plasteel container. A vaguely Oriental-looking younger Ranger with a tally board followed them, accompanied by a tiny, titian-haired woman who could have been almost any age from twenty on up. Lutobo had gone partway up the ramp to meet them before he made out what was inside the mesh-sided container and hastily backed down again.
“Coming through, Captain,” one of the Rangers called.
The animal was curled into a tight, furry blue ball, but it still seemed to fill the cage. Lutobo guessed it might weigh close to two hundred pounds under standard gravity, but just now it was bobbing, nearly weightless, from the anti-grav dolly supporting its cage. The cage lurched a little as its handlers tried to ease it carefully off the end of the ramp, and the change of angle produced a cry—somewhere between a screech and the sound of metal being shredded—as the ball of fur suddenly was transformed into a bristling, spitting bundle of enormous blue cat. It was maned like an Earther lion around angry golden eyes, with pointy ears flattened to a skull suggesting extreme cunning. It lashed more than a meter of tufted tail hard enough against the side of the cage to make the cage and dolly rock, as it hooked razor-sharp claws into the floor mesh to catch its footing. The creature yowled again, blinking in the harsh light of the dock, and the sound sent a shiver up Lutobo’s spine. The light also glinted off wicked-looking fangs, just before the creature closed its mouth.
The captain gulped, suddenly breathing hard, and backed off further as the cage passed, surreptitiously wiping clammy palms on the sides of his maroon uniform trousers—he had never liked cats of any sort—then resumed his previous scowl as a large, heavyset man in gray fatigues came down the ramp and started to join the others. Fleet commodore’s insignia gleamed on his collar tabs, and the Imperial cipher on his sleeve. The name flash above the right breast pocket identified him as the very man the captain had been looking for.
“Commodore Seton, I believe?”
Mather turned to appraise the captain, a bland expression on his round, pleasant face.
“Yes, I’m Seton. You must be Captain Lutobo. I’m sorry we had to commandeer your vessel, Captain, but as I explained, we’re acting under direct Imperial orders.”
He stuck out his hand in the captain’s direction, but Lutobo pointedly ignored it.
“You said that you were on urgent Imperial business,” Lutobo said in a cold voice. “You implied that it was a matter of the utmost urgency. You did not say that it was to transport specimens for the Emperor’s zoo! I don’t know whether it’s occurred to you or not, Commodore, or whether you even care, but the Gruening Line has a reputation to maintain. It cannot do that if officious Imperial procurers interrupt its schedules for frivolous purposes.”
Mather had lowered his hand at Lutobo’s outburst, and now he tucked his thumbs casually into the waistband of his trousers. Though the movement did not appear to be obviously calculated, it did draw the fabric of his jacket more closely against his side, outlining with frank clarity the butt of the needler he wore beneath his left arm. Beneath a shock of light brown hair trimmed slightly longer than military regulations prescribed, the hazel eyes were clear of any menace; the voice was calm and carefully neutral, but the promise of cold power was there, nonetheless.
“I hardly think that you’re in a position to judge whether the emperor’s ‘whims’ are ‘frivolous,’ Captain,” Mather said quietly. “And
while less flexible men than myself might feel obliged to take offense at your implied insult, I’m sure you reacted out of genuine concern for your own duties, just as I am trying to be faithful to mine. I assure you that my people and I will do everything within our power to help you make up the time you’ve lost by this unscheduled stop.”
Lutobo blinked, taken aback by Mather’s mild yet unmistakably firm reponse, and folded his hands behind his back, drawing himself up straighter.
“I apologize if I spoke a little hastily, Commodore,” he conceded. “However, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do to make up for the delay. Aside from the fact that we’ve already lost our chance at the new speed record this time out and my crew will forfeit their bonuses, I cannot risk my passengers’ comfort by making extra jumps, or by making scheduled ones too close together. The Gruening Line’s reputation is built even more on passenger safety and comfort than it is on punctuality. My superiors would not support any action that endangered this reputation.”
Mather spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I understand perfectly, Captain. However, it may be that I can assist your navigation staff to fine-tune a few of your scheduled jumps. It won’t get you your record, but we might at least make up for some of the lost time that way. I—ah—have some acquaintance with the Margall-Seton drive.”
“I appreciate the offer, Commodore, but—wait a minute! You aren’t that Seton, are you?” Lutobo blurted.
Mather grinned. “No, but my aunt was. Seriously, Captain, I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”
“Well, maybe we could manage to—”
But before he could say just what they might be able to manage, he was interrupted by one of the purser’s yeomen, who came hurrying into his line of sight with a look of concern on her usually controlled face.
“Captain, there’s been a disturbance up on the observation deck.” She glanced over her shoulder, with both men’s eyes automatically following the direction of her glance. “One of the passengers went into some kind of hysterical fit and started making a scene. He managed to get several other passengers upset in the process, and the deck officer had to close the observation level.”
“What about the passenger?” Lutobo asked. “Is he all right?”
“That I couldn’t tell you, sir. It was one of the Aludran pilgrims. You know how private they are. His mate apparently took him in charge and they went back to their cabin, but someone from Medical Section probably ought to check on him. One of the other passengers said the Aludran was screaming something about demons.”
“Demons?” Lutobo said.
“He probably saw one of my cats,” Mather muttered under his breath. “As I recall, Aludran demons are green rather than blue, but other than that, they do look rather a lot like Lehr cats.”
Lutobo sighed. “I could have gone all day without hearing that, Commodore.”
“Sorry, Captain.”
Lutobo shook his head wearily and rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Well, we’ll have to continue our conversation at a later time, I suppose. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course, Captain.”
As Mather turned to go back up the ramp, where two more Rangers were bringing along the next cage, Lutobo followed the yeoman back to the purser’s desk.
“Mister Diaz, how many Aludrans do we have aboard, this trip?”
The purser pushed a last folder onto the pile he had been building and shook his head. “Only five or six, sir. Did you want a list of names?”
The captain snorted softly under his breath, then shook his head as well. “Never mind. I’ll have Doctor Shannon do it. I was going to stop by Medical Section anyway. This whole morning has given me a splitting headache.”
“Sorry to hear that, sir.” The purser raised a hopeful eyebrow. “But if you’re going to Medical Section anyway, would you take these medical records on the new passengers? Doctor Shannon will want to get them integrated into the files as soon as possible.”
With a shrug and a gesture of futility, Lutobo picked up the stack of chip cards that were the medical records and sighed, then began to make his way across the shuttle bay toward the crew lift. Behind him, Mather Seton watched his Rangers float a third cat cage down the ramp of the shuttle ship, its occupant screaming with a sound like ripping metal.
CHAPTER 2
“If they send me back to Tejat on the Valkyrie, I’m going to take you dancing, Doctor,” said the legless man, managing a courageous grin as he made his antigravity harness lift him awkwardly off the treatment table. “I mean that, so you’d better start limbering up your dancing slippers.”
Doctor Shivaun Shannon, Chief Medical Officer aboard the Valkyrie, gave the young major a wink and an answering smile and locked away the rest of the sanity-saving pain medication for another twelve hours. “I’ll be looking forward to it, Major, but by then there are going to be dozens of other women just falling over themselves to dance with you. By the time you’ve got those new legs grown, you’ll probably have forgotten all about me.”
“You think I could forget you, Doc?” The major made his harness lift him to standing height and took one of Shannon’s hands with his free one, trying to twirl her. “I’d dance with you now, except that the other passengers might get jealous. Besides”—they both laughed as he twirled instead of her—“this blasted harness won’t cooperate! I’m going to keep practicing, though. I just might get it right before we arrive at the Med Center.”
“You might,” Shannon said lightly, taking advantage of his weightless condition to propell him gently in the direction of the door, “but I’m afraid it’s only a briefly useful talent. You’ll have new legs again before you know it. Seriously, though, if you exert yourself too much, your painkiller isn’t going to last the full twelve hours, and you’ll be hurting until I can give you the next dose. Run along now, and try to stay reasonably quiet.”
“Spoilsport!”
“Yes, I know. I’m a cruel, heartless doctor, with absolutely no sympathy for a gallant war hero. Goodbye, Major.”
“’Bye, Doc.”
Shannon was still smiling as the major floated off down the corridor, and the twinkle in her eyes softened even Lutobo’s dour expression as he approached from the other direction.
“You’re awfully cheerful this morning, Doctor.”
“Well, it helps the patients feel better, Captain. Ah, I see that Mister Diaz has conned you into bringing me the records on the new passengers, hasn’t he?”
Lutobo snorted good-naturedly as he handed them over. “Somehow, I always manage to forget that Diaz has as much blarney in his blood as you do—though you’d never know it by the name. At least yours got Major Barding smiling this morning.”
“Indeed, it did. He’s even promised to take me dancing on the way home.”
She dropped the handful of medical chips into a holding bin on the reception desk and started to ask why Lutobo wasn’t smiling, but decided to stick with the more neutral subject of Barding as the captain gestured toward her inner office with an expression that warned against further levity.
“Actually, Barding’s doing pretty well—if he’d just stop overdoing things, so his pain medication would last the full time. The poor man goes through hell the last hour or so.”
“And I’m going through my own hell right now, Doctor,” Lutobo muttered, following her into the office and closing the door. “What have you got for a good, pounding headache?”
“Well, ‘good’ and ‘pounding’ are rather diametrically opposed when talking about a headache,” Shannon said, sitting at her desk and opening a drawer. Controlling a smile, she added, “But then, I suppose that depends a lot on what caused it.”
She shook a white capsule from a vial and handed it across to Lutobo, who gulped it gratefully before sitting down.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked.
Closing his eyes, Lutobo rubbed both hands hard across his face and sat back in the chair.
“
Do you know what the ‘special’ cargo was, the reason we diverted to B-Gem?”
“I’m sure I don’t, Captain.”
“It was cats!” Lutobo’s tone conveyed all the contempt of the avowed ailurophobe. “Four big, hairy blue cats for the emperor’s zoo. They scream like banshees. I don’t know how Diaz and his people were managing to conduct business down there. Ugly-looking brutes—the cats, that is.”
As Lutobo looked up at her again, Shannon raised an eyebrow.
“Cats, eh?” She started to chuckle but saw the warning gleam in Lutobo’s eyes in time and managed to convert the chuckle to a cough. “Well, I—ah—can understand why you’re concerned, Captain. We’ve lost a lot of time, haven’t we? In addition to the bonus pay.”
“Yes. And then, to top it off, there was some kind of disturbance on the observation deck. According to a yeoman, who got it from the purser, who got it from the deck officer, one of the Aludran passengers got hysterical, apparently over the sight of the cats being unloaded, and made enough of a scene that the deck had to be shut down. There was some talk of demons or some such nonsense. I’d like you to check it out.”
“The Aludran?”
Lutobo nodded.
“Do you know which one?” Shannon persisted.
The captain shook his head. “Apparently his mate took him back to their cabin. But if we’re going to have aliens berserking aboard my ship, I want to know why. I’d especially like to know what set him off. If it was the cats …”
Shannon sat forward in her chair and nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out, Captain. As I recall, there are only six Aludrans, and they all have adjoining quarters. Anything else?”
The captain rose as a low, deep-throated chime sounded throughout the ship, signaling its imminent departure from parking orbit. The previous lines of pain in his face were already easing from the drug.
“Yes, you might check on those cats, when you finish with the Aludrans. Talk to this Commodore Seton, who brought the cats aboard. There’s also supposed to be a doctor in his party. Maybe you can learn something from him. And don’t let anyone distract you. Our first jump comes up in less than an hour.”
The Legacy of Lehr Page 2