by Paul Collins
‘The facts are these: at approximately oh-one hundred hours a random sensor sweep, which preceded the regular sweep by some five minutes, identified a new biosign on board. Female.’
Black stiffened, but said nothing.
The Envoy went on: ‘However, the sensor logs show that a male biosign ceased to exist at around the same time.’
‘We have to assume Anneke Longshadow is on board. How, I do not know ...’ He frowned suddenly.
‘Something’s not right. How did she get on board without setting off any alarms? This isn’t just any ship. And who did she kill?’
‘The missing biosign belongs to Jinks Heller.’ Black’s eyes snapped up, locking with the Envoy’s.
His unique brain digested this information. Then he smiled, though it wasn’t a pleasant smile. And it didn’t last.
‘There was no intruder,’ said Black.
The lieutenant under Heller blurted, ‘But, sir. We definitely have a new biosign!’
‘I said no intruder. But we do have a stowaway.’
The young lieutenant stared, uncomprehending. nneke Longshadow has been on board the ship since we left Lykis. Anneke Longshadow is, or was, Jinks Heller,’ Black explained. ‘If you reconfigure the sensors for a full metal jacket, I think you will discover that I am right.’
The lieutenant winced at ‘full metal jacket’ as if he could readily imagine the pain it entailed.
‘Find her at once!’ Black snapped. ‘Find her now.
She’ll be trying to leave the ship.’
Black sat down in the Commander’s chair, fuming. Anneke Longshadow. Here. In the palm of his hand and he had never suspected. Worse, she had duped him. Like he’d been a first-year cadet. Like he was a fool.
As he sat, silently watching the hunt for his nemesis, his fury grew.
‘Sir, an escape pod has just been launched. Two biosigns on board.’
‘Two?’
‘The other belongs to Sergeant Yosira Veene.’
‘Destroy it.’
‘Sir, Yosira may be a hostage.’
‘Then she will pay for her stupidity. Destroy it. And don’t question my orders again, lieutenant.’
The lieutenant swallowed, turned to tactical, and gave the order. A pulse of high energy light streaked from the ship and blew the tiny spacecraft into atoms. Then the lieutenant said, ‘Wait a second. Another pod just launched. And there goes another.’ The lieutenant frowned, studying his readout. ‘Sir, every single pod from one bank has launched.’
‘Do they all contain biosigns?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Destroy them all.’
A moment later the lieutenant, pale, trying not to shake, turned to Black. ‘Sir, we managed to destroy all but one.’
‘Interesting. What was the reason for your failure?’
‘Sir, that pod was equipped with a deflector field and it outmanoeuvred our weapons AI,’ he said, unable to meet Black’s eyes.
Black got to his feet. ‘I will be in my quarters. Envoy?’
Black paced while the Envoy watched, motionless.
‘Damn that woman. Damn her to hell and back. How does she do it?’
‘We must focus on the lost coordinates,’ said the
Envoy.
Black stopped pacing and gazed out a large porthole at the planet below. It was dark brown and blue with patches of purple.
‘Contact the Kantorians. You know the plan. Get the team ready.’
Three hours later, Black’s shuttle docked at the central landing field in the capital city, Qule. He and his team were disguised as - and using the cover story of - an arms delegation from the neighbouring but distant world of Golag, which lay on the other side of the Needles - a region of disrupted space caused by n-space snakeholes. Visits between the two systems were thus few and far between.
Black was impressed with Qule.
The city was built on, and had grown out of, an ancient fortification. The heavy stone style of the fort infused later architecture. The entire city of Qule was one massive conglomeration, revelling in its notoriety as one of the most militarised civilisations within many parsecs. Everywhere, massive stone walls towered over streets and buildings; each embedded with gun emplacements and sensor towers. Stone columns, many more than a hundred metres high and intricately carved with martial images, lined the streets and spoke eloquently of Qule’s Herculean past. Most impressive of all, Black thought, were the colossal step pyramids, reminiscent of Lykis’s past, that sat here and there, grim, squat, symbolising a ponderous, eternal power.
Yet despite harking back to the past, this stone work and grand architecture were interlaced with modern technology: fast transit tubes, walkways, a bustling market economy and checkpoints festooned with modern sensors and weapons.
Qule was, if nothing else, a monument to power. Just my kind if place, Black thought. It might be interesting to reconstruct this on the world I choose as capital if the galaxy.
The groundcar dropped Black, the Envoy, and twelve others at the Trade Commission headquarters, a sombre stone building. The driver had zealously informed them it was once the head of the Kantorian Secret Police. She’d shuddered dramatically recounting hair-raising tales from her childhood about the place.
Black thanked her politely, slamming the door on her final effusive gush about enjoying his visit.
‘Remind me to ask for a different driver on the way back,’ he told Riktar, head of the security
‘delegation’. The newly promoted Riktar nodded, but said nothing. The man was built like a battlement, had the beetling brow of a Neanderthal and was as humourless as the Envoy.
Inside the Commission headquarters a flunky guided them through the bureaucratic red tape and took them to meet the Eng Roag, Trade Ambassador. Roag, a tall, gaunt, ascetic individual, looked as if he might flail himself in private, driving out imagined demons.
He bowed slightly when they were introduced.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Olak Maxus,’ said Roag, using the cover name Black had chosen. He didn’t know if the notoriety of Nathaniel Brown had reached this far, but he was taking no chances. The second set of lost coordinates was hidden on this planet and nothing must be allowed to jeopardise his search for it.
‘And you, Ambassador.’
‘I have ordered refreshments. Please sit.’ Black did so. The Envoy and Riktar remained standing. The others in the adjacent chamber were being served food and drink as was the custom. No official discussions could proceed until formalities had been observed.
‘You have come a long way, Olak. We rarely receive visitors from Golag.’
Black didn’t tell him that was the idea. He took a bite of a savoury pastry and said, ‘I hope that this is the first of many then. Navigating the Needles is not easy, but we have developed new methods to minimise the danger.’
‘I wasn’t aware of this. Perhaps you should talk to our engineers while you are here. I will set up a meeting.’
‘You are too kind.’
Formalities over, Roag got to the point. ‘What do you wish of us, Olak?’
Black leaned forward. He had a large array of sample weaponry and field equipment he was sure these people had never seen. He was happy to give away samples and take orders. To showcase his inventory he activated a holopic in the air to his left and proceeded to work through the spiel devised earlier.
When it was done, Roag sat back, clearly salivating at the sophisticated armaments. ‘We had no idea Golag was so advanced.’
Black gave a quick smile. ‘We have been in contact with other races you may not have heard of And our perpetual attempts to conquer the Needles have yielded unexpected insights into new areas.’
Roag stood. ‘I will organise the negotiations immediately. Is there anything else?’
‘There is, actually.
We discovered yesterday that we had a stowaway on board who we believe to be an agent of a now-defunct organisation. We would very much like to find her and question her.’
‘How may I be of help?’
‘She launched an escape pod and landed somewhere on your planet. We have the frequency signature of the pod ...’
‘And you would like a satellite search? I am yours to serve, Olak. At once. Would you excuse me a moment?’
‘Of course.’
Roag left. While he was gone, Black signed the other two to silence. He assumed the room was bugged. He would have done the same.
While he waited he amused himself studying the room’s floor-to-ceiling tapestries. Like the massive stone columns that marched across the city, they showed scenes from Kanto’s military past. Interestingly, it seemed that Kanto had once played a significant role in the affairs of the galaxy. Black half-remembered a strategically important item that Kanto had claimed to hold at that time. Some scenes were spectacular. RIM was represented there, as were the Sentinels, alongside the Old Empire dreadnoughts.
As he realised that the tapestries told an ongoing story, he heard Roag returning. He turned back to his seat, then stopped, staring at a sequence in the right hand corner of the final tapestry. His brows knitted, and as Roag, followed by an underling, entered the room, he mentally photographed the illustration.
‘I have been successful. If one of your men could remain behind, a security officer will be along shortly to take him to our main surveillance centre. I am sure the escape pod can be located quickly.’
‘I am in your debt,’ said Black. ‘Riktar will stay and I look forward to our negotiations.’
‘In the meantime, I have requisitioned accommodation for you and your delegation and have taken the liberty of organising entertainment. Tomorrow, you shall be taken on a tour of our great city. Until tomorrow, then.’
‘Before you go, Ambassador, a question.’
Roag stopped, smiling politely, as if to say, I’m a busy man, make this quick. Black bowed by way of apology. ‘I have been admiring your tapestries, an interest of mine. Could you tell me, are these old?’
Roag’s smile became genuine. ‘Very old, Olak.
They date back to the Old Empire when Kanto Kantoris, then known as Krasnik Prime, was a major player in the Great Game. The tapestries have been preserved, untouched. If you look closely, there is still blood embedded in parts, not all human, either.’ Here he glanced at the Envoy. Remote sensors must have read the alien’s biosigns.
‘Then I am even more impressed. You must tell me more about this during my visit.’
‘I would be delighted. I am something of a historian.’
‘Wonderful. Until tomorrow then, Ambassador.’ Roag left and the underling stepped forward. ‘I will take you to your rooms to freshen up,’ he said.
‘Lead the way.’
It was nearly an hour later before Black was able to get the Envoy alone. He set up dampening fields and activated voice scramblers.
‘Use your internal sensors. Scan the room,’ Black ordered.
The Envoy gave an inward stare for a moment, and then nodded. ‘It is safe to talk,’ he said.
‘We must get a sample of the blood the Ambassador spoke of I think I have just learnt the greatest secret in the galaxy!’
The Envoy remained silent, his head tilted in question.
‘Unless I am mistaken, I have just discovered the nature of the Sentinels,’ Black explained.
And what will you do with this information?’
Black smiled. ‘Use it to crush them, of course.’
IT was cramped, smelly and uncomfortable. At least, for Anneke. Yosira wasn’t complaining. Anneke tried to adjust her position but couldn’t; she had Yosira’s elbow and knee pressing into her side.
Their ‘ride’ seemed to be doing its best to jar every bone in their bodies.
‘I think we made it,’ Yosira whispered.
‘Don’t count your atoms before they split,’ said Anneke.Just then there was a blinding shaft of light, a juddering groan of landing struts hydraulically extending, a final shudder, then nothing.
They were on Kanto Kantoris, presumably in the capital city of Qule.
Now all they had to do was wait.
They were not, as Command had supposed, in an escape pod. Anneke had programmed all the pods to launch and to show biosigns. Meanwhile, she’d managed to suppress their vital signs long enough for them to conceal themselves in the lower maintenance bay of the primary shuttle, the one Anneke guessed would take Brown to the surface.
Here, so close to a source of n-space radiation, with the shuttle’s own shielding working for them, she knew their signatures would be almost impossible to read. Anneke was counting on it.
Then again Brown might have detected them and decided to play along. Anneke did not underestimate the man’s cunning or his cruelty.
But she kept her fingers crossed mentally. There wasn’t enough room to do it for real.
‘How long do we have to stay like this?’ asked
Yosira, her lips pressed too closely to Anneke’s ear.
‘Till it gets dark at least. I wouldn’t want to risk a move before then.’
‘Then let’s try to get comfortable. I feel like a pretzel worm.’
They shifted around awkwardly, with stops and starts, contracting knees and shoulders away from tender places, and trying not to laugh, which might have proved fatal. When they finished, Anneke figured she was ten per cent better off. In the manoeuvring Yosira had managed to arrange for their lips to be within centimetres of each other’s. Every time Yosira breathed, Anneke felt her warm damp breath on her face.
‘This is comfy.’
‘Hmmn.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a wet tunic. You only live once.’ Anneke wanted to say, Not if you have the lives if a cat, but she didn’t want to jinx herself. She felt she always had luck with her- ever since the death of her parents, as if the universe, having taken something precious from her, had decided to give her something else back.
As the hours passed, the young women talked about their respective lives but, like females their age, their conversation kept coming back to boys.
‘You must like Jinks. The real one, I mean,’ said
Anneke.
Yosira shrugged, digging an elbow into Anneke’s stomach in doing so. ‘He was different. Didn’t have to prove himself like the others did. And he seemed to like me just the way I was. Even if he was drunk.’
‘So you going to look him up when he’s sober?’
‘You going to change your orientation?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll look him up. If he remembers me.’
‘Oh, I think he’ll remember you.’
‘You’re sweet.’
‘Well, that’s the first time I’ve been called that.’
‘Now that I can’t believe.’
‘You’d be surprised. There was this one guy though. He used to - Shsssh!’
Someone approached on the deck above them. Pairs of jackboots rang hollowly on the plastisteel deck plates, growing louder. They stopped immediately above their hidey-hole. Anneke tried to still the beating of her heart. She could almost feel Yosira’s heart thumping through her ribcage.
Then came voices.
‘You been out yet?’ said a gruff voice.
‘Nah. I don’t figure we’ll get shore leave either.’
‘Bit of R&R right now’d lower the drive.’
‘Not for me, it wouldn’t. Girls here all look like your mother.’
‘I heard they all look like you.’ The men laughed and moved on.
When it was safe, Anneke whispered, ‘Seems we’re all talking about the same thing.’
‘Yeah. What do you know.’
; Anneke could see through the pinhole port that darkness had fallen outside. Signing to Yosira, she uncramped her muscles and slowly prized open the lid of the sub-floor storage unit they were squashed into.
Checking the passageway above, Anneke geared herself to move. Blood rushed back into her limbs. She waited for the pins and needles to subside. Yosira climbed out beside her, groaning softly, almost unable to move. They massaged one another’s arms and legs, restoring blood flow.
As soon as they were able to walk (or rather limp) they made their way to the landing gear compart ment, removed a vacuum proof service plate with a sonic screwdriver, and three minutes later were looking down through a gap to the landing strip.
‘Here goes,’ Anneke mouthed to Yosira. Lowering herself headfirst, she inched downwards till her eyes breached the opening. She scanned the area. The immediate vicinity was deserted, but the ship sat in a virtually enclosed bay. A small troop of guards, probably Kantorian, loitered at the only entrance, a hundred metres away.
Anneke dropped to the ground, keeping the bulky landing flange between her and the guards. Yosira joined her a second later.
‘How do we get out of here?’ Yosira asked, sneaking a peek over the flange.
‘Through there.’ Anneke indicated the ground two metres away, where there was a drainage cover.
‘Gotcha,’ said Yosira.
Since then, they had solved three of their most pressing problems. They’d found clothes so as to blend in with the locals, pilfered food and stolen a wad of local currency. Not having money made you a vagrant and vagrants had one universal enemy. The local constabulary.
This still left their biggest problem. They did not have papers.
Ordinarily, Anneke would have every documentation she needed, but she had not foreseen that Brown would go straight to Kanto from Dyson’s Drop. Not until the ship had laid its course was she able to confirm that Brown had cracked the first-level encoding of the first coordinates.
So here they were without ID in a militarised dictatorship that controlled every aspect of its citizens’ lives. The government knew who everyone was and everything about them, including their movements. Anneke wondered if there was a central AI that monitored the downtrodden citizenry and compared it with the ebb and flow of real time biosigns.