Mainline

by Deborah Christian

  Karuu opened the door and let the Aztrakhani into the air car. "Where to?" Daribi asked as he powered up.

  "The frontage road north of Nabara Field," Yavobo said, referring to one of the small private ship pads on the outskirts of Amasl. Daribi considered the best way to evade checkpoints on the way, then guided the air car into traffic.

  "You have a ship here?" asked Karuu.

  "Yes."

  Soon they were at the frontage road. "Get out and wait here," Yavobo ordered his companions as he climbed into the driver's seat.

  Karuu looked distressed. "How are you going to—?"

  "Be ready to board when I return. I hope you run fast, little Dorleoni."

  The Aztrakhani drove away and arrived shortly at the landing field. On board his ship, his first stop was the medical locker, and a hefty dose of painkillers and stimtabs formulated for Aztrakhan bodies. He started the pilot's checklist, put in for lift clearance, got a window for half an hour later.

  By lift time, Yavobo worked with icy clarity and drug-induced precision. Acknowledging lift clearance, he powered up the engines, and repulsors pushed the Deathclaw slowly skyward. Angling so the nose of the armed scout ship pointed north, he punched the maneuvering thrusters, and the 'Claw shot across the small landing field. Before Traffic Control noted his deviation from flight plan, he was down on the frontage road with boarding ramp extended.

  Karuu waddled rapidly up the ramp, leaving his derevin chief in the shadows. "Is he coming?" Yavobo demanded.

  "No," the Holdout said. "I need him to stay here."

  Yavobo cursed. Precious seconds had been wasted. "Strap in!" he barked, not looking to see where Karuu landed. He retracted the ramp, continued to gain altitude on repulsors.

  Traffic Control was hailing him on several frequencies, demanding to know if he was in distress or out of his mind. Yavobo tapped a transmit button intermittently, shouting about communications malfunction, then turned off the volume on coms entirely.

  Status lights showed his passenger was secure. "Hold on," he warned, pulled the nose up, and engaged main engines.

  Normal lift procedure is to gain altitude on repulsors, then maneuver into an orbital traffic flow, and then out into space. Not to point for the stars like you were parked on an asteroid, and then slingshot into the void.

  Yavobo laughed as acceleration pressed him into the pilot's chair. With the planetwide hunt for Karuu going on, even small craft would be inspected before they were released from orbit. His deviation from flight plan had been noted; surely a patrol ship was already maneuvering to intercept. The faster Selmun III was left behind, the more thoroughly that risk was avoided.

  Sensors showed a clear path ahead. The Deathclaw shot toward the stars at maximum acceleration, and the Aztrakhani reveled at leaving the waterworld behind.

  XLV

  As Vask headed for Lairdome 7, he had lots of time to think. When he arrived, his plans had changed a little. He found a com booth, sat inside, opaqued it for privacy.

  If Reva was the mystery assassin sought by Internal Security, he wanted to know that before uplinking to Systems Control. He jacked into the booth, keyed the image recorder into playback mode, and watched his point-of-view impressions move across the booth's flatpix screen.

  There was Reva, triggering the bomb. A still-frame and close-up revealed a small rectangular device held in her hand. Detonator.

  Even more apparent: there was the assassin. Caught on surveillance pix.

  Agent Kastlin deflated and pulled the plug on the neural jack. Case histories noted the killer's image had never been captured during a hit, even when done in full view of surveillance devices. How the assassin evaded or altered the record of sensors and pix recorders was unknown, but Reva, by the fact of her image capture, wasn't the one.

  Guess it doesn't matter, though, Kastlin considered. Whoever she is, this assassin will take some watching.

  Given his special qualifications, Vask was allowed unusual latitude in picking his own duty. The visual evidence of Reva at work was disappointing in one way, challenging in another. It wasn't every day you caught an assassin in the act.

  Obray can have someone else trail contraband, he thought. I'm changing assignments.

  Vask approached Lairdome 7 cautiously.

  No police uniforms cluttered the loading bays; no Security presence hovered. There was something new in sight, though, and entirely unexpected: Lish had hired muscle.

  She was prepared for some kind of trouble; that was clear. If IntSec wasn't here by this time, they must have called off the sweep operation for some reason. This derevin could be an obstacle, though. What did they call themselves? 'Jammers, something . .. Skiffjammers, that was it, for hire for water or land work. They had a paramilitary air about them, composed as they were of military veterans. Buzzed heads, army helmets with optics and ranging gear; not too many cyber modifications in evidence, though you could be sure they had jacked-up nerve reflexes and enhanced targeting systems.

  The 'Jammers had set up checkpoints at all entrances to the Lairdome. The young men and women of the derevin were polite and formal; it almost made you overlook the blast rifles they carried.

  Kastlin's name was on their access list; he was passed through their lines without being frisked. He walked into the Comax office shaking his head. "Looks like you're ready for some serious trouble. What's going on?"

  The Holdout was playing computer games behind her desk, and losing at Shaydo by the look of it. She darkened the screen when Kastlin walked in.

  "We're waiting," she said. Her face looked drawn, an effect of her lack of rest and the stimtabs winding down.

  "Waiting? For what?"

  "News."

  Vask nodded sagely. "Any particular kind of news?"

  "I'll know it when I hear it," Lish murmured cryptically, glancing at her desk console as if the vidphone should power up any second. "Meanwhile—I have some news for you."

  "Oh?"

  "Karuu's out of business."

  Sitting down saved Vask from losing his footing. He contained himself with an effort as he heard the bare elements of the tale

  from Lish. He could fill in the blanks from what she didn't say. If anyone in Karuu's organization wanted to cause trouble, she'd be Number One on their hit list.

  The street enforcers seemed like a very good idea.

  While he was trying to digest this turn of events, her com unit finally signaled a call. Lish took it in the clear, apparently trusting the Fixer with what he might overhear.

  She leaned forward over a darkened screen, no vid transmitted from the other end. "Yes?"

  "Delivery's done, baby, quick as a Flash." It was a synthesized voice, direct from the cybernet.

  "Trouble?"

  "Enough. I'm a little fried. I expect that bonus we discussed.''

  An emotion flickered over her face, impossible to read. "Same account?"

  "Yeah."

  "It'll be there."

  The line disconnected. Lish played with a writing stylus, then threw it on the desk. "Halfway home," she said. "Now to get paid for it."

  She eyed the screen meaningfully and leaned back to wait.

  The reverie was interrupted almost immediately by Reva, appearing abruptly in the doorway.

  "Muscle?" she inquired angrily, unhappy with the ID drill the 'Jammers had tried on her. "It's a good thing my name was on their list. If they'd tried to print or scan me, someone would be out there right now with a broken neck."

  Vask started; Lish smiled nervously. "Sorry for the inconvenience. Thought I might need the protection," she explained.

  "Why?"

  "In case any of Karuu's people come hunting."

  "You don't want trouble with Karuu's people."

  "I don't think I'll have any. It's a precaution, that's all."

  The strange tone of Lish's voice caught her attention and again Reva asked, "Why?"

  The smile came on full-blast. "I've put Karuu out of business."


  The words were nearly the same she had used on Vask, but the reaction was far, far different. Reva froze, turned pale, then flushed bright red. "You what!?" she shouted, leaning over Lish's desk, nearly screaming in the smuggler's face.

  Lish shrank back, then sprang angrily to her feet.

  "What in the seven hells is wrong with you? I thought you'd be glad to hear it."

  "Glad to hear it? Are you crazy?" Reva took a step back, trembling with anger or some other reaction Vask couldn't identify.

  "Yeah, glad to hear it." Lish spoke defiantly. "I took your advice, you know? About covering my butt, and making sure I had more than one way out. It worked, too. Better than I imagined. And you know what? If it wasn't him, it would've been me. I'm happy to be free and out of Security's hands."

  Reva inhaled, a great lungful of air. "You have no idea what kind of connections Karuu has," she began.

  "That's what you keep saying, 'Karuu has connections.' So what? I have connections, too, and I used them a lot better than he has."

  Reva's eyes flashed. "You stupid bitch, you're going to get yourself killed."

  "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

  The tall woman recoiled. "I'm not threatening you," she spat. "I'm warning you."

  Lish gripped the edge of her desk. "What's gotten into you, Reva? I thought you'd be happy for me. This is like castle-stones; I played a gambit that knocked my opponent off the board and made a fortune while doing it. Are you jealous that you couldn't get rid of that short pond-paddler yourself?"

  "Jealous—?" The assassin waved her hand like she was waving off insects. "I'm pissed, that's what I am. You don't know the risks you're taking. And what's this about a fortune?"

  Lish didn't share details in a spirit of camaraderie, as she had nearly done with Vask. Her words were terse, and she told little, yet it was enough to cause Reva to undergo another change of coloration. Her angry flush left her and she stood stock-still.

  As Lish's words registered with Vask, he, too, paled, then looked away.

  "What?" The Holdout stopped in midsentence. "What's wrong?''

  Reva licked her lips. "You didn't sell to the AAP, but to a private person. In case there were political repercussions."

  "So?"

  "Only one person was contracted as your buyer. Alia Lanzig."

  The Holdout gritted her teeth. "So?"

  "So I killed her today. You won't be getting that pay authorization, Lish. She's not alive to make the call."

  Lish remained standing. Vask could read every emotion on her face. Disbelief. Fear. Fury.

  It was the fury that stayed, ringing in a voice that was tight and controlled.

  "Do you have any idea at all how much I'm in debt to the Scripman? How soon payment has to be made? How many people will be collecting out of my hide if there's no money there?" Her voice was steadily escalating, until finally she was shouting. "Do you have any idea how much this shipment was worth?"

  Reva was not one to take another's temper calmly. She flared right back. "Don't cry to me about your lost fortune. You're so clever. You took out Karuu." She spun on her heel, headed for the door. "I had a job to do," she said over her shoulder. "I took care of my business. Now you can take care of your own."

  Lish slammed her fists down on the desk, and Vask came to his feet. He looked back and forth, between the trembling smuggler and the receding figure of the assassin. He made his choice, then, unhappily.

  "Sorry, Lish," he murmured, and followed Reva out the door.

  TWO

  XLVI

  It was a fine voyage until the sea-monsters appeared.

  The misty predawn run to the north of Avelar Island started simply enough. Captain Orvan conned the Eliset through the foggy morning water of the straits, leaving behind a wake of green phosphorescence in the plankton-rich sea. The big cargo freighter plowed through the mild chop, then turned northward with the current. As the sun rose through orange- and green-washed clouds, the ship cut across a gentle easterly and followed the homing signal of a nav beacon toward Gambru Shelf.

  The freighter ran heavy with her mixed cargo of machined parts, drums of sealant, tanks of processed oxygen. The Eliset was no racehorse, like the speedy but cargo-light hydroplanes that carried passengers and small goods on this run. She worked her way steadily through the buoyant waters of R'debh, in the traditional way that seagoing vessels have for countless millennia.

  The attack came two hours out from Gambru Shelf, over the deep submerged canyons that channeled the warm-water current along this route. The sun was just high enough in the east to blind the Captain in the deckhouse. He turned his head from the green-yellow rays. The helmsman, eyes forward, squinted one eye half shut and never glanced to that side. Only Feron, the Mate, fetching another cup of osk from the dispenser, glimpsed something out of the ordinary through the sun-streaked glass. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes against the glare, then dropped her mug crashing to the floor.

  "Helm hard a-port!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Helm hard a-port!"

  The helmsman's trained reflexes obeyed the command before the Captain could question it. The yoke grip spun to the left, and the Eliset wallowed with reluctant inertia as rudders and repulsors nudged her downwind.

  Orvan jumped from the Captain's chair. "What is it?"

  Feron shook her head, mouth agape, and simply pointed.

  To starboard, now toward the aft quarter as the ship slowly turned, three large shapes could be seen heading directly toward the Eliset. Only portions of them surmounted the waves, enough to show broad, flattened heads and bodies of a stunning length, each easily as long as the freighter. They moved so powerfully their wakes were clearly visible. They were less than 100 meters away and closing rapidly.

  Captain Orvan stood paralyzed in amazement and disbelief. The oceans of R'debh harbored no large life-forms. What they were seeing was impossible.

  The impossible was upon them in a moment. Before the ship could turn fully away, the alien creatures crashed mightily into the side of the freighter. Striking close together, nearly in unison, the tremendous power of their impact stove in the plating and spun metal alloy of the ship's side. Crew throughout the ship were thrown to the deck as the Eliset lurched noticeably sideways. Compartments began to flood below the waterline, and bulkheads jarred out of alignment failed to seal.

  The creatures circled about to ram again.

  The Eliset sank after the second attack, barely leaving time for one lifeboat to be launched. The few bedraggled crew who clung aboard choked out whispered prayers when the monstrous sea-beasts neared their boat. Then the creatures moved away and slipped beneath the waves.

  "By the Sea Father," one sailor breathed. "What are they?"

  No one had an answer.

  Out of sight, many meters below the surface, the water-breather Edesz and his companions laughed in celebration of their success. Silver bubbles burst free from their mouths and floated toward the surface.

  "Not so hard after all, was it?" body-signed Frevin.

  "They're even stronger than we thought," Edesz concurred, signing back.

  Overhead and to one side a single small oblong marred the light-refracting wavetops. Edesz looked toward the sole lifeboat that drifted on the surface, and gave an elaborate shrug.

  "The loss of life, more than just the shipping, will drive our point home," he remarked.

  Nela signed agreement, the gill slits on her neck flaring in excitement. "For independence," she said.

  "For independence," the others echoed. Independence from surface traders and air-breathing industry magnates. Independence, so that water-breathers could come into their own on the planet they dominated in population.

  It was an offensive that was long overdue, and the means of their liberation was approaching now. Edesz tapped the sonic receiver, a streamlined cup attached to his left ear, and pointed toward the deep canyons. He and his friends floated at fifteen meters depth and stared downwards, still ast
onished by the brute size of the three cetacean-like creatures that rose to meet them.

  The slab-browned leviathans were guided by their handlers. Master Swimmer Sharptooth released his beast's fin and swam closer to the humans. "Our friends wish to feed, now," he whistled and clicked into the waters. "It is necessary, to reward them for their work."

  "We understand," the terrorist replied. "Let them." He glanced about through mote-filled depths and asked, "Where are the others?"

  There were eight borgbeasts in all, and one handler for each. They were to rendezvous after this trial run in the busy Gambru shipping lanes.

  "Feeding already," Master Sharptooth whistled in reply. "Have found a school of fish."

  "Go then," Edesz signed. "We'll meet you back at the dome when you're done. Good hunting."

  Master Sharptooth whistled orders to his fellows. Handlers and beasts sank back into the depths, heading toward the apaku their hungry companions had already located.

  XLVII

  In the deep, distant waters of the equatorial belt, in a canyon charted by satellite but never visited by man, something stirred in the dark waters. Something ghost-like and large, barely visible, sensed more than seen.

  The ghost-ray beseeched sometimes as the Sea Father, subject of rumor and myth, came awake. He listened without ears, sensing on a half-materialized membrane that served him as skin the distant vibrations of sound, borne faithfully for long days through the ocean waters.

  Here was a sound like none he had ever heard. Like none that should be there. For long ages none had challenged his supremacy in these waters.

  The ghost-ray listened to the long drawn-out wails, the booming bass notes of alien life. Large life.

  For one day, then two, sound waves washed over the creature's deep grotto. Time did not mean to the ghost-ray what it meant to humans, and thus he had infinite patience. On the third day the sound changed, bearing with it not only the alien whistles, but a clamor and cry of distress wafted like pheromones upon the current.

  The Sea Father could not feel a sense of threat from physical things that could not touch him. An alien presence alone was not enough to make him emerge from his lair. The scent of distress, though, close-tied to those clicks and wails, was something else. Curiosity stirred awake in the creature, and he contemplated whether or not to investigate.