Eternity's End

by Jeffrey Carver

  "The captain," Lyle snarled, "would never give his ship up to Narseil." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "And he wouldn't give up his crew, either."

  "That's right," Deutsch said softly. The beating red flame of anger that drove him so effectively in the net was beginning to rise again in his thoughts, and he didn't try to keep it from his voice. "He wouldn't have. The captain thought he was invulnerable. And that's why he and a lot of your friends are dead right now. And if you don't obey my orders, a lot more will join them." Deutsch beckoned to Ensign Ganton. "Ensign, remove this man's weapon."

  He could see fear in the ensign's eyes. He also saw Lyle's hand moving toward the sidearm at his waist. Deutsch caught Lyle's defiant gaze—and an instant later, Deutsch's telescoping left arm shot out to twice its normal length, and he caught Lyle's gun hand in a hydraulic vice-grip. Lyle's face went pale.

  Deutsch chose not to break the man's wrist. Instead, he used his network of fingertip sensors to locate the faint aura of nerve pathways in Lyle's wrist; and as Deutsch smiled at the man, he searched his augmented memory-stores for the image he wanted. He sent it out, amplified: an irresistible image of a crushing force closing on Lyle's wrist, a vice slowly splintering the bone, and pain like nothing the man had ever dreamed of...

  Lyle sank to his knees, trembling. His breath escaped with a gasp, and then a curse. Deutsch released his wrist unharmed. But Lyle remained on his knees, cradling his right arm in agony.

  Deutsch motioned Ensign Ganton over. "Remove his weapon." The terrified ensign obeyed, taking care not to touch Lyle's arm. Deutsch accepted the gun and amplified his voice as he spoke to the other stunned crewmembers. "We have already paid the price of our failure. We paid it in blood. But it's done. As your acting captain, I command that no more shall die needlessly."

  At that moment, he heard a small inner voice, providing an update from the bridge. He acknowledged, then linked to the intercom and announced ship-wide, "We are now in normal-space. All suited personnel move into the airlocks and open the outer doors. You are to offer no resistance to the Narseil. Essential systems crew only, remain at your stations."

  Deutsch watched as the suited weapons crew flicked on their silversuit-forcefields and moved into the airlock. Lyle rose, silent with rage, and activated his silversuit. A sneer crossed his features an instant before his face turned to a blank mirror. Then he followed the others into the airlock. Deutsch waited until the inner door closed and the outer door opened, then turned his attention to the rest of the crew.

  * * *

  Legroeder had a clear view from the net as the Narseil boarders, looking like large metal insects, floated across space to the pirate ship. They moved efficiently, but more cautiously than their raider counterparts had. Their first priority was to scan the suited pirates who had come out of the Flechette's airlocks and to secure them as prisoners before entering the pirate ship itself. Who knew what traps might await them aboard Flechette? Legroeder did not envy them their job.

  As he watched, along with Palagren, Legroeder sensed a chromatic flicker in his vision, and certain chimelike inner sounds; and he realized that his implants were busily recording, buzzing with analysis and observation. Their progress was displayed to him as streaks of color-coded light at the edges of his inner vision. He exhaled slowly, trying not to let it distract him.

  In the space between the two ships, the Narseil commandos were corralling the silversuited pirates into groups. Others were preparing to move into the enemy ship. Something didn't look right to Legroeder, and he nudged Palagren and pointed to one of the clusters of pirates.

  Is that raider commando moving out away from the others? Palagren asked softly.

  Yah. Legroeder realized that three of the Narseil commandos were already moving to encircle the figure. But before he could even distinguish what was happening, there were two flashes—and one of the Narseil went tumbling backward. An instant later, the fleeing raider dissolved in a cloud of sparkling silver particles, expanding into the darkness of space.

  * * *

  Deutsch saw it happen on the monitor. Saw his man—had to have been Lyle—pull out a concealed weapon, take one idiotic vengeful shot, then overload his forcefield suit as the Narseil fired back. An instant later, he was ionized dust. What the hell was he trying to do, take a Narseil with him to show how brave he was? And maybe take all of his shipmates, when the Narseil decided to exact punishment? Lyle, you stupid sonofabitch bastard. Deutsch turned and shouted to the roomful of men, all of whom had seen it on the monitor. "Listen up! If any of you is thinking of doing some brainless asshole thing like that, tell me and I'll put you out of your misery right now. If we don't all get killed for what Lyle did." He glared across the room. No one moved. "Good."

  Shaking his head furiously, he linked his primary implant to the ship-to-ship com. "H'zzarrelik, this is Flechette."

  "This is H'zzarrelik."

  "About what just happened, Commander—"

  He never finished, because at that moment the first wave of Narseil marines erupted through the airlock door—and there were more weapons than he could count, aimed at him and all of his men.

  * * *

  A report came back from Ker'sell, who had remained outside the net, on the bridge. It looks as if there was one rogue pirate who didn't want to surrender. Our marine was not seriously injured.

  Legroeder growled to himself, thinking, Just one rogue pirate? Or will there be more?

  Ker'sell continued, The airlock deck has been secured, and the raider's acting captain insists that all his crew have been ordered to cooperate. But the boarding party is taking nothing for granted. The commander says to pull the net in. We're backing to a safer distance.

  Legroeder peered over at Palagren as they drew the net in. The Narseil rigger seemed to be regarding the pirate ship thoughtfully, as though wondering whether it had been worth the price they had paid for it. Legroeder wished he knew himself.

  * * *

  Explosion on the Flechette! There's been an explosion.

  The call from the bridge filled the withdrawn rigger-net like a jolt of electricity. Legroeder and Palagren extended the net instantly, ready to dive away from the pirate ship at the commander's order.

  The silence that followed seemed to last forever.

  Although H'zzarrelik had pulled back from the raider, Fre'geel had left the riggers in their stations as a hedge against the unexpected. There was always a chance that he would have to order a fast retreat in an emergency—such as a suicidal self-destruct of the pirate ship. Their quickest escape would be straight down into the Flux—though of course they would leave behind a lot of Narseil marines that way.

  They waited.

  How long had they been in this net, anyway?

  The pirate ship floated, silent and enigmatic, off their port bow. Whatever was happening aboard it was invisible to the eye.

  The com hissed. Cantha's voice: Riggers, withdraw from the net.

  Legroeder stared at Palagren in surprise. Did he just say to come out? he said in a whisper, afraid to shatter what might have been an illusion.

  Let's go, said Palagren, and winked out of sight.

  Legroeder followed.

  He rubbed his eyes, looking around the bridge. Although the place was a shattered mess, a good deal of cleanup and repair had been done already.

  Fre'geel, his neck-sail encased in a clear gel bandage, turned from the center console. "We had one last holdout on the raider. He blew up an engine compartment, and himself and a shipmate with it. But we had no casualties, and the raider ship is now secured." He touched his long fingers together thoughtfully. "It occurred to me that you might be ready for some relief." He gestured to a pair of Narseil backup riggers, standing by to take the stations. "I think they can get us out of here in a hurry as well as anyone can. But I doubt it will be necessary." Fre'geel's mouth remained slightly open, and for a moment his noseless face looked as if it were wearing a human smile.

  Legr
oeder stared at the commander in amazement. He felt relief, and dread, and a dozen other emotions he couldn't yet sort out. They had captured a pirate ship. And now they were going to... what? Fly it back to its owners.

  For all of his tangled feelings, when he glanced at Palagren, their eyes met in satisfaction. For this moment at least, satisfaction.

  Chapter 17

  Faber Eridani

  "You sure we're on course?" the man asked, checking the satmap display for the thirteenth time. The aircar had covered hundreds of kilometers over forested terrain since they'd left Elmira, and he still wasn't sure they'd passed over the right landmarks. His personal augments weren't calibrating properly on the data streaming to him from the flyer's instruments; apparently his realignment to Faber Eridani standard hadn't quite taken. He couldn't make heads or tails of the ground below or the visual display.

  His partner rolled her eyes as she scowled down over the rolling woods. "Ye-e-es," she said, "we're going the right way. It's another ten, twenty kilos."

  "What about the woman? She okay back there?"

  His partner sighed and punched a couple of buttons on her compad. "This says she's alive and in a coma. Does that count as okay?"

  The man shook his head in annoyance, wishing for the hundredth time they'd gotten clearer directions from command on this operation. ... Secure and transport the woman... observe evasive protocols... keep secure for further instructions...

  Further instructions. He had no idea why this woman was important, just that she was. And that others would soon be looking for her. But who? It was a hell of a way to run an undercover operation.

  "Any idea who they've got meeting us up there?"

  "We'll find out when we get there, won't we?" his partner said irritably. A couple minutes later: "Looks like we're coming in." A town was beginning to emerge from the woodland ahead. "You ready to take over?"

  He grunted. The aircar was descending now over street breaks in the forest cover; the autopilot was bringing them down into the outskirts of the town. "You got the directions to the rendezvous?" he asked, kicking off the autopilot. Gripping the yoke, he glanced at his partner.

  "Look out!"

  "Why, what—?" He saw the car come out of the blind spot to his left just as his manual controls kicked in. With a squawk, he jerked the car hard over, trying to avoid the other vehicle. There was a slight, glancing impact, putting them into a skid, about five meters above the ground. He fought the controls until the car straightened itself out and dropped the rest of the way to ground level. "God damn these Faber cars! How the hell are you supposed to—"

  "You just ran that guy off into a field," Lydia said, looking back. "Christ, Dennis. Get us out of here before the police show up!"

  "Well, don't blame me!" Cursing, he careened down the nearest side street and slammed the power to the floor, hoping their human cargo was still in one piece in the back seat.

  * * *

  El'ken inclined his head as the human woman Harriet bowed to him. "Academic, I am grateful for all of your assistance," she said gravely.

  "And I for yours." El'ken gestured toward the stars overhead in his dome—in the general direction, he hoped, of where Legroeder had disappeared two weeks ago. His expression of gratitude was quite genuine. He wished he could have kept Harriet here longer, but his concerns were somewhat allayed by the recent departure of the Spacing Authority cruiser.

  Harriet appeared to understand the gesture. "Let's hope some good comes to both our peoples from that venture. But now it's time for us to get on with our investigation. We can't let Legroeder do all the work."

  "May I inquire how you hope to proceed?" El'ken asked the question out of genuine curiosity.

  Harriet fiddled with the eyeglasses hanging from a chain around her neck—a peculiarly human mannerism. "We hope to find the trail of Legroeder's friend Maris. And find out who killed Robert McGinnis. And why Legroeder was framed." She paused, looking reflective. "And with your generous offer of transportation and diplomatic protection, we might actually stay out of jail long enough to do these things."

  El'ken regarded her with a certain inner tension. He desired to tell her more, and yet he couldn't, without violating the conditions of his contact with the other side. He was not wholly certain of his knowledge, in any case. He hissed a breath through his gills and consoled himself with the thought that it would be worse to pass on wrong information than none at all. "You have people to help you, yes?"

  Harriet nodded sharply. "Oh, yes. Peter, my PI, is quite good. A Clendornan. He may need to work miracles, though. Maris could be anywhere now—if she's alive at all. When we find her kidnappers, I suspect we will have found the people who killed McGinnis."

  El'ken hesitated before speaking. So many deaths and possible deaths—all, in a way, the result of Rigger Legroeder's escape to freedom. Ironic. But it presented great possibilities, as well. El'ken hoped he had not erred in sending Legroeder to join the undercover mission. But the Narseil urgently needed intelligence about the Free Kyber—and they even more urgently wanted to find Impris, and not just for the sake of clearing their names in history. With Legroeder they had a better chance of accomplishing both than without him.

  El'ken focused on Mrs. Mahoney again. "Do not be certain that her kidnappers are the same as McGinnis's killers," he said finally, deciding he could say that much, at least. "And do not presume that you won't find her alive." And how would you know that? he thought to himself rhetorically. "I... feel... that you might find good news about this. I cannot exactly say why." Nor could he exactly say why Robert McGinnis had died; he wanted to know that, too. He drew a soft breath and added, "And if you do learn more about these matters, I hope you will send word to me."

  "I will," said Harriet. "Thank you. And good-bye."

  "Safe journey back," El'ken said, extending a down-turned palm. "To you and your daughter."

  Harriet nodded, and hurried away. After she was gone, the Narseil sank back into his pool and settled slowly to the bottom. For a time he just rested there, staring up at the shimmering surface of the pool, and imagining the stars that lay beyond, out through the dome... and wondering if he had done the right thing.

  * * *

  "Well, are we off?" Morgan asked, looking up as her mother returned to their room.

  "We are off." Harriet went to put her last few things in her bag, then glanced back at Morgan, who was moving restlessly around the room. "Is something wrong?"

  "No," Morgan snapped.

  "What is it?"

  "Nothing. I just told you."

  Harriet sighed. "How long have I been your mother?"

  Morgan shrugged and snapped her bag closed. "I don't know. Seems like forever."

  "My. What's eating you?"

  Morgan sighed. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just worried about Legroeder, that's all."

  "This is professional concern, I assume?"

  Morgan let out an exasperated sigh. "No, mother—I'm carrying his child. Jesus. What do you think?"

  "I don't know, dear. I was just wondering if you'd developed an emotional attachment, that's all." Harriet raised her eyebrows, then turned to snap her own bag shut. As she was finished, she looked back at her daughter. "Are you?"

  "What?"

  "Carrying his child."

  Morgan snarled softly. "No, mother. I am not carrying his child." She grabbed both bags and headed for the door. "Let's go, shall we?"

  "Testy, testy." Harriet followed her out of the room, chuckling.

  * * *

  The Narseil embassy ship was both more comfortable, and less, than the corporate ship that had brought them to the asteroid. It was larger and more luxuriously appointed, with comfortable, private compartments—at least two of which had been adapted for human occupancy. On the other hand, for all of the comforts, it felt alien to Harriet. All of the surfaces seemed either too smooth or too rough, and the light was too green, and everywhere the ship seemed to have little pools and streams that loo
ked like instant catastrophes in the event of loss of gravity. The Narseil crew were courteous, but left them alone.

  That gave them plenty of time for planning; the Narseil ship was making a leisurely trip of it back to Faber Eri, in hopes of attracting less attention from the Spacing Authority. They knew from Peter's last communication that Harriet, at least, would be subject to arrest if she set foot outside of Narseil diplomatic territory. She was wanted on suspicion of complicity in the murder of Robert McGinnis, as well as suspicion of aiding and abetting the escape of Renwald Legroeder. She still had enough friends in influential places to have some assurance that the Narseil diplomatic protection would be honored, at least for a time. But she was going to have to come up with evidence of her innocence fairly soon—which could prove difficult, locked in the Narseil embassy.

  She was more grateful than ever for Peter's assistance. She was also determined not to stay locked up one day longer than necessary.

  * * *

  Rather than landing at Elmira Spaceport, the embassy ship docked in low orbit with a small diplomatic shuttle, which took them planetside and landed directly on the roof of the Narseil embassy compound. Morgan and Harriet were led inside and met by an assistant ambassador, a tall Narseil named Dendridan, who conducted them directly to their quarters. They were given adjoining bedrooms, plus a work room that already had been outfitted with a secure com-console. "We have been in touch with your investigative representative—the Clendornan?—and have set up a secure com-link for your use," Dendridan said.

  "Thank you." Harriet looked around, surprised and touched by the Narseil's thoughtfulness. Apparently El'ken's recommendation carried some weight here.

  Dendridan touched his embassy robes absently. "Officially, our reason for granting you asylum is to facilitate investigations crucial to the righting of historic wrongs against our people. Naturally, if you need to locate certain persons, or pursue information tangential to that investigation—purely as stepping stones, of course—we find no reason to disallow that." He gave a small bow, and said, "If you require nothing else just now, we will leave you to your work."