“I just thought of something,” Greco said.
“Yeah, I know what it is,” Tanner said. “Maybe Acton was the one who paid the Calisto Grandee people to give us the bad part. That’s the easiest explanation as to how he knew about it.”
“Occam’s Razor,” Greco said.
“Say again,” Tanner said.
“The simplest explanation of a thing is likely to be the best explanation as to why a thing is,” Greco said.
Tanner thought that through. “Oh. Yeah. I can see that.”
“So, why did Acton pay someone to do that? Why did he treat you badly when you guys first met? And is he really a strongman?”
Greco climbed out of the hold. The two men lifted the plate, putting it back in place. Greco used a power drill, putting the screws into their slots.
“What now, boss?”
“You go to the bridge and keep watch. I’ll go to sleep and spell you in six hours. Everything should be okay for a little while at least.”
“I hope so,” Greco said.
“One thing,” Tanner said. “Whatever else happens, don’t let Acton touch you.”
“I can’t wear gloves like you, boss. I’m too hairy.”
“You know what you can do.”
“Act like a wild man?” asked Greco.
“No,” Tanner said, “like an apeman.”
“Ha-ha,” Greco said. “You ain’t funny.”
“Gnash your teeth and hoot like crazy, make Acton back away if he gets too close.”
“If Marcus sees me act like that, he’s liable to shoot me.”
Tanner stared off into the distance. “I’m beginning to believe Ursa.”
“What about?” Greco asked.
“That we’re headed to a crazy place all in order to try to find a weapon no one should use.”
“Wonder what kind of weapon that would be,” Greco said.
“Yeah,” Tanner said, yawning. “We have a few hours grace, I think. Nothing should go wrong until we’re near the outer region.”
“Boss, you’re jinxing us by saying that.”
“No, I’m not. Trust me. Everything will be fine until then. See you in a few.”
“In a few, boss,” Greco said.
-14-
Seven hours later, Tanner changed heading by seventy degrees. The Petrus System lay seventy-four degrees from their present course, but he didn’t want to give away the precise destination so far out. In case anyone had watched them make a 1 G burn from Calisto Grandee, he increased acceleration to 2 G’s. In these ways, he hoped to disrupt anyone attempting to map and time the raider’s exact arrival in hyperdrive territory.
He endured the greater acceleration in the control room, spending most of his time in the pilot seat. The few times he moved around, he did so slowly and carefully. It was easy to pull a ligament or tendon in the heavier gravity.
Four hours later, his intra-ship comm light blinked. Tanner tapped the unit.
Patrician Ursa appeared in the tiny screen. “How much longer do we have to endure this?” she asked.
Tanner checked the flight schedule. “Another two hours,” he said.
“And we’ll have to decelerate at this rate later?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about entering hyperdrive at this velocity.”
Ursa looked worried. “Is that wise? Hyperdrive—”
“That isn’t my first choice. I’m just saying if the need arises, we have an option.”
The worry increased. “Have you spotted anything suspicious?”
“Not yet,” Tanner said. “But that doesn’t mean much. If it is Coalition Special Intelligence that’s after us, they could have had someone near Calisto Grandee observing us and reporting to a warship in neutral territory.”
Neutral territory was anything outside a star system. The distance varied from place to place. Usually, it was fifty AUs beyond the last planet. Some like the Nostradamus Corporation claimed a lesser area because they didn’t want to enforce their laws so far out. Others like Coalition-run systems claimed much greater regions and often patrolled the greater range with warships.
“Does a waiting enemy have to be in neutral territory?” Ursa asked.
“I suppose not. But it’s good to remember that the Coalition is distrusted out here. Would they risk an interstellar incident just to destroy us?”
“Capture us, Captain. They want to capture us, not destroy us.”
“Are you sure about that?” Tanner asked.
“Oh, yes, very sure,” she said. Ursa signed off a moment later.
Tanner checked sensors, scanning in all directions. He spotted various spacecraft. Most made hard fusion burns like the Dark Star, making them easy to see. The gas giant Titan was already in Nostradamus’s outer system, with only two other planets beyond it. Those two were terrestrial ice-rocks, not worth much to Nostradamus industrialists or interplanetary traders.
In time, Tanner opened a ship-wide channel. “This is the captain speaking. I’m about to turn off thrust. We will be entering a weightless period as we coast to our deceleration point. I recommend that you check your quarters and secure any loose items.”
He flicked on a clock. “I will shut down the thruster in ten minutes. That is all.”
Ten minutes later, Tanner did just that. Immediately, the ferocious 2 G’s quit. It no longer felt as if an invisible giant pressed against his body as weightlessness took its place.
The bigger starliners and warships had gravity control. The Dark Star did not.
He leaned forward and clicked on the comm. Greco soon appeared on the small screen.
“How’s the manufacturing going?” Tanner asked.
“You’re kidding me, right? I haven’t done anything yet.”
Tanner stared at the apeman.
“First, I went to sleep. Second, the ship was under high gravities. I’m not about to use the workshop under high G’s.”
“You have in the past.”
“It was an emergency in the past,” Greco said.
“This could be an emergency.”
“Do you hear yourself, boss? Do you understand the operative word? It’s ‘could’, which is radically different from ‘is’ an emergency.”
“Get your butt down there and start working on the part now.”
“Roger,” Greco grumbled.
Tanner unhooked himself and floated through the corridors to the ship’s galley. He brewed some coffee, ate a nutrient stick and used a nearby head. While floating along a corridor back to the control room, using a rail to pull himself, he noticed Lord Acton down a different corridor. The Earthman gripped his cane, trying to pull himself with the other hand. Tanner wondered if Acton had ever been in zero gravity before. It sure didn’t look like it. The tails to his suit floated upward, making him look slightly ridiculous.
“Captain,” Acton called, “if I can have some assistance, please. This floating is most unnatural.”
Tanner hesitated. He had his holstered gun but he wasn’t wearing gloves. They were in a small compartment in the control room. Finally, he headed down the corridor, stopping a ways from Acton.
“I would appreciate it if you could guide me to the galley,” Acton said.
“It’s that way,” Tanner said, pointing.
“Very good,” Acton said. “If I could hold onto your arm while you guide me—”
“No.”
It took Acton a moment to straighten himself. “I am a paying customer, am I not?”
“I’m not your servant.”
“Is that a sore point with you, Captain?”
“Maybe—no,” Tanner said. “I’ll tell you what is a sore point, though.”
Acton waited.
Tanner exhaled. He wasn’t supposed to say anything about the greasy palm, as he wasn’t supposed to know about the psychedelic substance. “Forget it,” he said.
“Just a moment, young man.”
Acton tucked the cane under an arm, u
sing that hand to hold onto the rail. He used his free hand to reach inside his coat. But whatever he was trying to do must have been beyond his capabilities. Finally, he let go of the rail to grab his coat. The cane slipped out from under his arm, floating away, although he didn’t see that. The Earthman began to rotate in the air, however, turning upside down.
Tanner reached out to grab the cane. As he did, he noticed a shiny area on the stick. It was where Acton had been holding it.
Is that a smear of grease?
Tanner pressed his back teeth together in outrage. The Earthman had planned to dose him again. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been right to keep away from Acton.
Tanner grabbed the lion head top, alert to any sign of moisture or grease there.
By now, Acton had made a complete weightless summersault. He used a foot on the rail, pulling himself into a proper position. The other hand held onto a slate that shined a blue light in his eyes.
“Ah,” the Earthman said, as he studied the slate. “This is unfortunate.” He looked up. “I suggest you return to the bridge, Captain. A foreign ship is scanning us. I believe it is a Coalition cruiser.”
“You want me to believe that little device can tell you all that?” Tanner asked.
“How I know is immaterial. Whether I am right or not is the critical issue. The quickest route to satisfying your curiosity is to check your sensors.”
“I just did a few minutes ago.”
“I see. That would indicate you have inferior equipment. I hadn’t foreseen that.” Acton tapped the blue-glowing slate. “Hmm, in your terminology, I suggest you study the coordinates 54-C-32. Oh, wait. There are—emergency! This is a Class 1 emergency. Captain, you must attend to your duties at once.”
Without further ado, Acton took his cane, shoved it through a belt loop and used both hands to pull himself down the corridor. He no longer seemed clumsy, but moved with grace.
He was acting earlier, the bastard. He was trying to trick me.
Could the man be right about a Coalition cruiser, though? What else had Acton seen on the slate? Something had frightened him. Did the man truly possess the legendary powers of a Shand?
Tanner flew up the corridor to the control room. If a Coalition cruiser was in position 54-C-32 then the journey to the Petrus System might already have failed.
-15-
Tanner buckled into his seat and began tapping controls. He couldn’t detect any scans directed at them.
Hmm. It would seem Mr. Greasy Hands had been wrong about that. That was a comfort, at least. There was no way the little slate could have detected a scan when the raider did not.
What about the coordinates 54-C-32? Was there anything to that, anything at the position?
That region of space was half a million kilometers behind them given their direction of flight. That meant a time delay even at the speed of light. Light traveled three hundred thousand kilometers per second. Therefore, half a million kilometers was almost a two second delay.
Tanner leaned forward, studying the sensor board. He didn’t spy any Coalition cruiser out there. What a load of manure. He didn’t—
What was this? An anomaly of some kind. It had a low sensor signature. If he hadn’t focused on the region, the computer wouldn’t have brought the slight anomaly to his attention. How could Acton’s little slate have spotted this?
“You idiot,” Tanner whispered. The blue-glowing slate hadn’t necessarily been the instrument doing the scanning. The giant humanoids had carted hundreds of huge boxes onto the ship. Those could have carried sensor equipment that relayed information to the slate.
Tanner bet that was what Shand’s did. Like any stage magician, practicing sleight of hand and deception tricks, Acton simply gave the illusion of being a mind reader, a mind-controller.
Still, the Earthman had spotted an anomaly. That was impressive no matter what it turned out to be. Was the man easily spooked, though? It would seem so.
The comm light blinked.
Tanner tapped the screen. Lord Acton appeared.
“Captain, a drone has drifted uncomfortably near our vessel.”
“You’re seeing drones now?” Tanner asked.
“Check…24-X-12,” Acton said. “I would suggest you hit the coordinates with a strong radar signal.”
“All right, all right, I’ll check it out.”
The screen went blank. Tanner began manipulating the scanner. As he’d expected, there wasn’t anything out there. This time, the raider’s sensors didn’t even spot an anomaly.
“The guy panics at wannabe ghosts,” Tanner muttered. That was good to know. Acton had his tricks, sure, but in the end, he lost his nerve too easily. Keeping one’s nerve under hard conditions was the first rule of a good bounty hunter.
Tanner sat back. He had time now to figure out what the distant anomaly was, but until then…until then…
He cursed softly, leaning forward again. What had Acton said, “Use a heavy pulse radar.”
Most of the time, a raider used passive sensors. That helped to keep one hidden from those one scanned. In space, if someone spotted you, he could hit you with nasty weapons. But the Dark Star hadn’t tried to sneak anywhere. They’d used a fusion drive, which lit the raider up like a Solstice light on the Eve of Birth Night. Using radar gave a ship away ninety-nine percent of the time. So one only used radar for short targeting ranges or if you didn’t care that the enemy would spot you in turn.
Tanner put in the coordinates 24-X-12. That was a little more than one hundred thousand kilometers in front of them. He tapped scan and waited.
The radar results caused a klaxon to wail and made Tanner start. If he hadn’t been strapped in his seat, he might have pushed himself out of it.
He slapped off the klaxon and studied the results of the radar scan. He felt cold at the sight. That was a Coalition Falcon Five Stealth Drone. It carried a one-megaton warhead. If it came within twenty thousand kilometers, the nuclear blast would destroy the raider. At forty thousand, the blast could fry many sensitive ship systems.
At one hundred thousand kilometers—
Tanner went into action, manipulating the weapon’s board with practiced skill. The particle beam emitter had better work. Normally, he would have launched a torpedo at the drone as back up. He didn’t have any back up now. The point defense guns wouldn’t hit the drone that far out. This was a nuclear-tipped drone. He couldn’t believe it. The Coalition was as good as flipping off the Nostradamus government. Exploding nuclear warheads in a neutral star system was a good way to drive that system into the hands of your enemy.
Lately, the Coalition had been trying to keep a lower profile out here. No doubt, the leaders wanted to dissipate the fear their wars had spread. The Alliance of worlds against the Coalition was small and young, barely three years old. If the Coalition exploded a nuclear warhead this deep in Nostradamus space, it would likely cause a diplomatic incident.
The fact of the warhead showed Tanner how badly the Coalition wanted to stop this mission. That meant more than ever that the mission must succeed.
Tanner put in the targeting code. One hundred thousand kilometers was a longshot all right. He didn’t expect to hit the drone the first time. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
If the Dark Star had used a laser, he wouldn’t have tried such a long shot. Lasers dissipated over range just like a regular flashlight beam lost luminosity over distance. Besides, the raider was small as warships went. It wouldn’t have generated a very powerful laser. That was for big battleships. Now, a particle beam was different. Sure, it didn’t fire at the speed of light. But it charged particles in its cyclotron and sent the electrons out as a ray at near-light speeds. Those particles hit with tremendous kinetic energy, inducing near-instantaneous, catastrophic superheating even against an object one hundred thousand kilometers away.
What made the idea of hitting the drone possible was that it wasn’t under power. It drifted or coasted at a constant rate. Nor did
it seem it would jink into a slightly different heading anytime soon, thereby nullifying the shot. The drone was trying to remain hidden. Sure, the radar would alert someone. But if that someone was at the location 54-C-32, that meant a little more than six hundred thousand kilometers separation between the two objects. That gave Tanner a few seconds grace.
If the drone sent out a signal that it had been spotted, that signal would take two seconds to reach the possible cruiser half a million kilometers behind the Dark Star. Someone on the cruiser had to make a decision then as to what to do. The human decision would take several seconds at least, maybe a minute or two at most. Whatever the case, the order to the drone from the cruiser would take two more seconds to reach it. Then, the drone’s computer would have to activate engines or defensive procedures. Before that happened—
Tanner checked. The particle beam emitter was fully charged. “Here we go, bucko,” he said, tapping the firing switch.
The fusion engine quit whining and a loud hum indicated the shot. A knot of charged electrons sped through space at near-light speed.
Tanner turned on the radar, watching—
“Hit!” he shouted, grinning so wide his mouth hurt. “You thought you could sneak up on us, did you?” he shouted. “You wanted to play your filthy games against Centurion Tanner of Vesuvius. Well, I got news for you, sicko, you lose.”
A bloom on the scanner screen showed him the death of the nuclear-armed drone.
“Ha!” he said, pumping his fist into the air.
The comm light blinked. He tapped it on.
“What’s going on, boss?” Greco said. “It sounded like you just fired the emitter.”
“That’s right. I just destroyed a Falcon Five Stealth Drone.”
“Out here?” Greco asked, alarmed.
“One hundred thousand kilometers in front of us,” Tanner said.
The apeman’s eyes widened. “That’s good shooting, boss.”
“Yep.”
“How’d you spot it so far out?”
Tanner told him about Acton’s sensors.
“But boss, if there was a drone ahead of us, in our path, that means—”
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