Diamond Star

by Catherine Asaro

  "No, I was helping him." Del leaned over a panel with a menu of holos and started flicking them in sequences he would use on a Skolian yacht.

  "Stop turning off my systems," the EI said. A siren went off, and other alarms were undoubtedly notifying the authorities. Even if Del had known the yacht well, he couldn't neutralize its security fast enough to stop the warnings. Redundancy existed in its systems to prevent exactly what he was trying to do.

  He deactivated systems as fast as he could, and tied up life support and environmental controls so it couldn't use them to counteract him. But the EI soon locked him out, and probably also blocked the transmitter in his body. Del spun around and ran out of the bridge. He could feel the mind of the half-Aristo clearly now, which meant the officer was nearby, probably headed here to find out what the hell was going on. The yacht was big enough for Del to avoid him by sensing the man's crushing mental cavity. That worked because Del had turned off the monitors that would let the officer find him, but they wouldn't stay off for long.

  Del found a small cargo bay crammed with crates, trolleys, and cranes, all in blue chrome and Luminex. He knelt by a hatch in the middle of the deck. Its menus were similar to those on a Skolian ship, and he went through them quickly. But when he flicked what he thought was the final holicon, a voice said, "You must unfasten the l-bars to open the hatch."

  "The what?" Del asked. The hatch didn't answer, which probably meant he had just said something wrong.

  It took him three more tries to release the hatch, precious seconds he couldn't waste. As the hatch slid open, he practically threw himself down the ladder. It was colder in the hold below. He jumped to the deck, strode to where the cold storage unit should be—and it wasn't there.

  Damn! He saw nothing in the cramped hold resembling the heavy door and circular handle he expected. As he searched, his pulse ratcheted up so high, he felt ready to burst. He found a vacuum compartment behind a stack of crates, but no cold unit. He didn't have time! Even if he located Staver right this second, they would have trouble getting out of the yacht.

  As Del ran to the ladder, he looked one last time at the bulkhead where he had expected to find the cold storage unit. It hit him then; it wasn't identical to the other surfaces in the hold. It looked heavier.

  Del strode to the wall and pounded on it. If space existed beyond, he couldn't tell; the barrier was too thick to reveal any secrets. He ran his palms over it, his heartbeat racing. He was an idiot, wasting valuable time on a blank wall—

  A menu popped up in front of him. He recognized it, yes, this one should open the door—

  Nothing!

  Del wanted to shout his frustration. He went through the steps that had unfastened the l-bars on the hatch above. A loud click came from somewhere—and a portal in the bulkhead swung open. A wave of icy air blasted Del.

  "Gods almighty," a man whispered.

  Del made a choked sound. Staver was wedged into the unit on his side, with his knees drawn up to fit in the cramped space. Del had no time to be gentle as he pulled him out, and he felt Staver's agony. He gritted his teeth, knowing that the Trader officer had probably been sitting down here, drugged out of his mind on Staver's pain.

  Staver stumbled as he tried to stand up. "How—?"

  "I knocked on the door." Del grabbed Staver as the exec crumpled. "You're too heavy for me to carry. Can you walk?"

  Staver staggered with him to the ladder. "Anything." Alarms were blaring throughout the ship. "Where is Kryxson?"

  "If you mean the sadist who was down here, I'd bet he just found Bronzeson in the lounge."

  "Why no gas . . . knock us out?"

  "I turned it off." Del started to help him up the ladder, but then realized Kryxson was probably headed back here. The Trader officer could reach this ladder faster than Staver could struggle to the top.

  "This won't work." Del pulled him away. "Wait here."

  Staver's face was ashen. "You're insane to do this."

  "We can get out," Del said. He hauled himself up the ladder and scrambled to his feet at the top. In that instant, a man with shimmering black hair and a stark black uniform ran around the curve of a bulkhead. As soon as he spotted Del, he raised his gun, a medical stunner.

  Del lunged to the side, and the shot just missed him. He rolled on the floor as the man fired again. Numbness spread in his ankle, and he stumbled when he tried to jump to his feet, but he controlled his fall so he barreled into the man. They crashed to the floor, wrestling for the gun, and in his adrenaline rush, it took Del only seconds to knock him out.

  Gasping for breath, Del climbed to his feet and limped to the hatchway. "Staver?"

  The exec was already climbing. He dragged himself out the top, and Del helped him to his feet.

  "Can we get out?" Staver asked.

  "I shut off the security robots," Del said. "It'll buy us a little time."

  As they stumbled past the unconscious officer, Staver's face twisted with hatred. "We should kill him so he can't warn anyone."

  Del kept going, pulling Staver with him. "If we don't get out of here now, we're screwed." As much as Del understood Staver's reaction, he had no intention of killing anyone.

  "My people know Tarex has me," Staver said. "They got his provider out of his hotel, but he caught me."

  "Gods," Del muttered as they half ran, half staggered through the ship.

  "Yes." Then Staver said, "I've never heard an American man on Earth say 'gods' in Iotic before."

  A chill swept through Del. He hadn't even realized he spoke in Iotic. He couldn't have deactivated every monitor on the ship, which meant Tarex now had a recording of that single damning word.

  In the bridge, the controls were lit up like a deranged festival tree, red and amber blazing. The ship's EI spoke. "Your actions have overridden my orders to harm neither of you. Release my systems and surrender."

  "Go drill yourself," Del said. They ran through the bridge, dining area, and lounge, past Bronzeson's unconscious form. At the airlock beyond, Del smacked the release panel.

  Nothing.

  Damn! Del slammed his fist against the hull and swore loudly about the deviant sexual practices of the EI that controlled the lock.

  A clank came from the lounge behind them. Whirling, Del saw a robot-mech headed toward them, towering, all gold, with a smooth head, recessed slits for eyes, and a metal mouth without lips. One of its fingers was morphing into a gold syringe. It jerked to a halt, metal grinding metal, then took another jerky step.

  "Hell and damnation!" Del swung back to the airlock and went frantically through its menus. Symbols he couldn't read flowed in a gold blur on the screen behind the holicons.

  "Del, wait!" Staver said. "Go back! Read that last menu."

  "I can't read." Del backed up the menu. In the lounge, metal ground against metal as the mech managed another step.

  Staver scanned the glyphs. "It's a list of malfunctions. The EI couldn't override your tampering, so it kept creating errors until the airlock jammed." He flicked up a new menu and swore. "I don't know Highton well enough to read this one."

  "I do, if you know how to get it on verbal."

  Staver flicked more holicons. A voice spoke, androgynous and mechanical, different from the main EI that ran the entire ship. "The airlock is frozen due to instability. If I release the freeze, the airlock membrane might collapse."

  Del pounded on the airlock. "Release it!"

  "I cannot until the lock is repaired," it said.

  "Check the air outside the ship," Del shouted. "This is Earth, for flaming sake. We can breathe the air."

  "The lock must be repaired," the voice said. Then it added, "Armed units have surrounded this ship. Police and port security. Also two unidentified people."

  "The two must be my bodyguards," Del said. If it took his being a Ruby prince to get people here, his damn title had some use after all. "The armed units are no danger."

  This time the ship's EI answered him, its icily human voice
a stark contrast to the airlock. "You aren't leaving this ship."

  Staver flicked through more menus. "It must be possible to override this. Nothing is wrong with the atmosphere."

  Metal screeched behind them. Looking back, Del saw the mech take a step, forcing its legs forward despite its locked joints.

  "I can't believe this!" Del hit the bulkhead with his palm. "Let us out!"

  The airlock said, "I have no reason to override my freeze."

  "I have to give a concert tomorrow for a million people," Del yelled, even though he knew it was ridiculous.

  "Reason accepted," the voice said. "Freeze released."

  "What the hell?" Del stumbled forward as the membrane opened.

  The security codes must be corrupted, Staver thought as they crowded into the airlock. Tarex is going to the concert. He wants your work, so getting you there is important. But the airlock should have known better than to open. You really must have screwed up security here.

  My family has a similar yacht, Del thought. So I had a good feel for its systems. Better, apparently, than he had realized.

  Your family? Staver's thought lurched. Who the hell— He stopped as the outer surface of the airlock opened.

  They were standing at the top of the wide ramp to the yacht. People surrounded the ship, staring up at them, police from the port and guards from Tarex's Escorts. Del and Staver stood in the hatchway, hanging onto each other, while inside the yacht, another clank came from the mech. Guards from the Escorts were coming up the ramp, and Tyra and Cameron were running forward with their guns drawn. As Del lurched forward with Staver, a blue metallic streak whipped by in Del's side vision and was gone.

  "Help us!" Del shouted.

  The cavernous bay suddenly went dark and the hum of engines died. Lights flickered, went out, flashed erratically, and died again. Then the Trader Escorts began to pulse with a steady green glow.

  "What the bloody hell?" Staver said.

  In the wildly fluctuating light, Del could just make out Tyra sprinting up the ramp with enhanced speed. A Trader lunged at her, and she countered him with a kick that made Del's mai-quinjo look like molasses. She fired point-blank at the officer—and nothing happened. With a snarl, she threw the weapon away and grappled with him in hand-to-hand combat. Del felt sick. He hadn't even known it was possible to neutralize a pulser-pistol that way. Nor was it only the gun; a ring of security bots from the port stood frozen around the ships. Useless.

  "What's wrong with everyone?" Staver croaked as they staggered forward. "This port should be swarming with security equipment, remote operations vehicles, alarms, something."

  "Those 'civilian' Trader ships have military defenses," Del said tightly. "State-of-the-art, I'll bet, probably as illegal as all hell."

  "They must've—locked down the bay." Staver stumbled and lost his balance.

  Del grabbed Staver, holding him up as he jerked to a stop. In the jarring flashes of light, he could just barely see Cameron sprinting up the ramp. The Traders fired guns that flashed, Del had no idea why. It looked like shots were hitting both Tyra and Cameron, but neither faltered. The melee was beyond anything in Del's experience. He knew nothing about why the engines died or people couldn't get into the bay. Green light pulsed throughout the area, blurring his vision and disrupting his thoughts.

  Tarex's people were fighting with Cameron and Tyra. People ran through the dim light below, weapons discharging with red sparks. Del felt confusion and fear all around. The fighting blocked the lower end of the ramp, trapping Del and Staver above.

  The metallic streak darted through Del's side vision again. In that instant, a screech burst out of the Escort ships, a gut-wrenching siren that vibrated within Del. He screamed and sank to his knees, his hands over his ears. Staver cried out, his face contorted as he crumpled next to Del. Everywhere, port guards dropped to the ground, but Tyra and Cameron kept fighting. Whatever sound weapon the Escorts were using, it affected neither Del's bodyguards nor their Trader antagonists.

  One of the Traders broke away from the fight and ran up to Del. As the man hauled Del to his feet, Del cursed and kicked out, catching him in the leg. He grabbed the man, rolled the Trader over his hip, and heaved him over the side of the ramp.

  The relentless scream from the Escorts never stopped. With a moan, Del bent over double. That sound was killing him. Air buffeted him, and he looked up through eyes bleared by the gusts to see an airborne platform with turbines hovering past the yacht. It was small enough that its spy shrouds could help it evade security, but that meant it couldn't hold more than three people. Two Traders stood on it, leaning over its rail as the platform swooped close to Staver.

  Tyra was halfway up the ramp, still fighting. She knocked one person out with some sort of dart from a tube, but another of the Traders disarmed her. Cameron was grappling with more of Tarex's guards. Many people were on their knees or sprawled flat, bent under the horrific sound. How the Traders had isolated the bay, Del didn't know, but no gases swirled here, and no roar of rescue tanks, drones, or anything else cut through the noise.

  Del groaned. He felt the sound in his body as if it were churning him into knots. The airborne platform shot past him again, blasting the ramp. It came back and hovered, knocking Del flat as hot air seared his skin. They were insane to land here, but they were doing it anyway.

  Then it hit him: the people on the platform weren't Traders. One was Lydia, Staver's associate, the woman who had tended Del after the truth drug. The man with her was an exec from Staver's conglomerate.

  The man Del had thrown off the ramp was climbing back up. Another man broke free from the melee below and lunged at the landing platform. In all the noise, confusion, and security alarms, Del barely heard Lydia shout, "We only have room for one!"

  Del shoved Staver toward the platform. "Take him!"

  They grabbed Staver and threw him on the platform. As it lifted off, Tyra raised her head and screamed, "NO!"

  "I'm sorry, Kelric," Del whispered. "But it was my choice."

  Then he passed out.

  XXV: The Yacht

  Del awoke screaming.

  It was all he knew, the pain, fire across his back, accompanied by breaking sounds, as if brittle rods were snapping in two. He wanted to fold up and protect himself, but he couldn't bring down his arms. They were pulled tight over his head.

  As Del's vision cleared, he comprehended that he was kneeling in the lounge of Tarex's ship. A hazy figure reclined in a seat a few yards in front of him. He felt queasy, the way it happened when he was on a small ship that rotated. He still had on his pants and belt, but his shirt, boots, and socks were gone. He groaned as the pain seared across his back.

  "Stop," he said hoarsely. "No more."

  Again. And again.

  His sight cleared enough for him to see who was sitting in the chair. Tarex. The Aristo had relaxed back, a drink in his hand, his eyes glazed. He smiled as Del met his gaze. Then he languidly raised his hand, giving a signal to whoever was behind Del. The cracking sound came again. A whip. Del screamed as his tormentor increased the rhythm.

  Eons later, or maybe seconds, Tarex raised his hand and the blows stopped. Del gasped and sagged forward, his head hanging down, his arms held over his head by restraints. Something wet trickled down his back. Blood? He hurt, gods he hurt.

  "So." Tarex spoke English in a cultured voice. "I had a provider. I lost her but I gained a Skolian music exec. I lost him but gained an Allied singer who curses in Iotic. Isn't this all so interesting?"

  Del looked up and clenched his fists in whatever cuffs held them. "Go drill yourself."

  "Aren't we gracious today," Tarex said.

  Del wanted to spit on him. "You can't hold me prisoner in the port."

  "What port?" Tarex said. "We're in orbit."

  Gods. Of course they were in orbit. Why else would the damn yacht be rotating? Del could barely talk through the pain in his back. "How many people did your ship kill when it blasted the doc
king bay?"

  "Oh, don't worry." Tarex waved his hand. "It gave them warning. Only about twenty died."

  "Only?" Del stared at him.

  "You killed them." Tarex's expression hardened. "You vandalized my ship, assaulted my crew, and caused thousands of credits in damage." Contempt crackled in his voice. "They died because of your trespasses."

  "You were in American territory," Del ground out. "If you want me arrested, you have to go through their authorities. By taking off and killing people, you commited a far worse crime."

  "My crewmen were defending themselves," Tarex said. "And me. I barely got on board before they took off. Can you imagine the political fallout if an Aristo lord was killed on Earth? It would be a disaster." He leaned forward. "One you caused."

  Del didn't doubt the Allied authorities were afraid of exactly that. But surely they wouldn't let Tarex leave Earth with a major celebrity imprisoned on his ship. They were probably holding Tarex in orbit while they figured out what the hell to do.

  "Where is Tyra?" Del asked. She must have reported to Kelric and General McLane when she realized Del had knocked out Cameron and faked the taciturn Marine's voice.

  "Tyra?" The Aristo regarded him curiously. "Who is that?"

  "My bodyguard. The female one."

  "You mean the Jagernaut?"

  "I don't know what is a Jagernaut," Del lied.

  "Of course you do," Tarex said in Iotic.

  Del answered in English. "What?"

  A muscle twitched under Tarex's eye. "Don't play games with me. Your guard is a Jagernaut. Who are you?"

  "Del Arden."

  "You have an accent." Tarex sat back and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair while he steepled his fingers around his drink. "My analysis codes can't identify its origins. It has Iotic components, but it's not pure. But you swore in pure Iotic."

  "I've been around Staver. He says that word a lot." Del winced as blood ran down his back, over gashes left by the whip.

  Tarex raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't come from a Skolian noble family."

  "He has to deal with them. In their language."

  "With Iotic curses?" Tarex gave a wry laugh. "Given the way people talk in this business, that actually makes sense."