Kendric had heard of the technique but had never met anyone with implants. Most Naval officers frowned on the system, which was widely regarded as being a kind of drug, emotionally and physically addictive. White spent all of the Corrine's flight time locked away on the bridge, oblivious to everyoneelse aboard, his mind enmeshed in the web of computer-translated sensations that the Corrine's systems constantly fed him.
That changed somewhat when the Corrine had grounded at a small starport on Daphne, a world somewhere between Narbon and Alba's sun, Argrian. The Corrine's three crewman had offloaded the freighter's cargo of fragrant menachiwood in exchange for a load of jil and spices, at a small profit in tals.
With the crew out on liberty that evening and boost scheduled for local dawn, the Captain and his three passengers gathered in the Corrine's common room. White looked thinner and older than before. Though the ship's medical systems kept him fed and hydrated while he was tied in with the computer, he explained that the time spent wired into the ship always cost him a few kilos mass. In the periods between T-space jumps, he had to heavily "resupply" with meals rich in carbohydrates and protein.
"I've had word of your brother, T.C.," White said cheerfully as he cut into the rare argus steak on his plate.
T.C. started. "What...here?"
White nodded, swallowing. "An Underground agent here on Daphne was able to do a computer check through someone at the Imperial Governor's residence. Seems that one Carl Chavez Lloyd made it through to Port Liberty on Rilus V about eight months ago."
T.C.'s eyes had closed at the mention of the name. "That's him," she said. "He's safe?"
"He's in the Commonwealth. And as safe as anyone can be these days. A damn sight safer than us, I'll tell you!"
"Thank God."
Kendric did not voice his own thoughts. He had still not sorted out what he must believe and what he had been taught.
Daphne to Kelgar. Kelgar to Vestus III. From Vestus III, the Jewel Box cluster was a soft spot of milky radiance nearly as large as the Vestian moon and less than three hundred light years away. The final run brought them straight into the Gael Cluster and deep into Argrian's planetary system. Kendric and Jaime stood in the cramped control loom on either side of White's command couch. While wired to the Con ine's computer, White could neither hear nor speak normally, but their voices could be picked up by bridge microphones, and White could answer over the intraship speakers. The arrangement made Kendric uneasy. It felt too much like standing next to a corpse and speaking with his disembodied ghost. As the black mass shadows of the Gael Cluster's suns began to drift past them, however, distaste and tear began to give way to excitement. This was home and he was nearly there!
"Breakout in thirty seconds," White's disembodied voice announced from a bridge speaker. The voice sounded a bit unsteady. White had once tried to explain to TC and Kendric what it was like to see the Universe directly through a starship's electronic senses, to actually be a starship, adrift with stellar mass shadows in their tachyon sea. Kendric wondered now if that experience, repeated so often, had somehow damaged a portion of White's awareness, making it harder l or him to communicate with other Humans or to understand them. Yet lie was fighting the Empire the only way he knew how, by ferrying refugees from TOG's wrath to the supposed safety of the Commonwealth.
Then the milky whiteness of T-space suddenly inverted to black as the Corrine dropped down the dimensions and into rational space. Ar-grian shed yellow radiance ahead, as Cherenkov radiation from the Corrine's shimmertau burned into space. Kendric watched Douglass make a notation of the time on his perscomp. Jaime had burned off the plus tau of his run from Alba to Narbon by the time they'd boarded the Corrine, so his readings would also serve for Kendric and T.C. until they could get their own perscomps again. With all their time in and out of T-space since Narbon II, their shimmertau reading now amounted to about 14 days. That would present no problem unless they had to make a long jump within the next couple of weeks.
"Scanning," White's voice said from a speaker. "We're a half billion kilometers out from Alba. No...uh oh..."
Douglass spoke sharply. "What is it?"
"A patrol, about ten light minutes off. They haven't seen us yet, of course, but they will when our shimmerdown flash reaches them."
"Let me see a feed."
A screen came to life at the console next to Jaime. Kendric leaned over to see the display, six points of light moving against star-filled glory.
"Imperials," Douglass said after a minute. "Might be the same ones that relieved me on the perimeter patrol."
"They have no reason to stop us," White said. "We're clean, and we're not running."
The four of them had discussed the situation endlessly before committing themselves to this final jump. Jaime had been able to tell White what he knew of the current patrol set-up in the Argrian system, of course. Once Douglass had admitted to being the leader of TOG's pursuit of the Corrine during the starship's last smuggling run from Alba, the two pilots had lapsed into a three-hour analysis, point by point, of their respective maneuvers...and of the stupidity of the Imperial ships that had relieved Douglass's patrol.
More important than patrol deployments, however, was the knowledge that the TOG fighters would probably not challenge the Corrine on her way insystem. There was no reason to suspect her of smuggling. On his previous visit, White's problems had been brought on by his unwillingness to let Imperial inspectors board and inspect his ship', during a surprise spot check. There were passengers on board, he'd explained to Kendric, who could not afford to be picked up by IS agents. So he'd made a run for it.
The Corrine's name had been painted out just prior to the last jump, just in case someone should remember it—as Douglass had—from the ship's last visit to Alba. She was Agravender II now, one of a number | of registered noms de ruse he used from time to time as the situation demanded. The chance that a TOG bureaucrat at Alba Port would check
up on the name and number of the incoming freighter was too small to cause concern. So why were those fighters now closing with the freighter?
The fighters had been on a standard, circum-Argrian orbit when the Corrine had spotted them. Ten minutes later, news of the Corrine's arrival, in the form of her shimmertau light, reached the patrol. Six ships, identified as Imperial Gladius heavy fighters, immediately changed course and boosted for rendezvous.
"So do we fight or run?" Douglass asked.
"We can't run," White's voice answered. "I'm still setting up the parameters for another T-space transition. This deep into a cluster this thick, it'll take a while."
"How long a while?" Kendric asked.
"Oh...fifteen hours...Something like that. It's a complex problem."
"So we fight," Douglass said.
"With a couple of popgun turrets," White said, "Not for long."
Kendric shook his head, watching the screen. "I say we hold course and find out what they want."
"We haven't much choice, do we?" Jaime said. "You know, I'm not sure I like being at the receiving end of a runner patrol."
Minutes crawled. TC joined them in the now-crowded bridge. The Gladius fighters made a final course change, accelerated, then slipped in on the Corrine's course, surrounding the freighter on every side.
"Attention freighter," a voice called over ship-to-ship. "Identify yourself."
"Freighter Agravender II," White replied, his answer broadcast over the bridge speakers so that all could hear. "Independent, Vestus III to Alba, with a cargo of iron, tin, and uranium. What's the problem?"
"No problem, Agravender. All commercial flights in and out of the Argrian system are being convoyed for the duration of the emergency."
"Emergency? What emergency?"
"The military emergency, of course. The Gael Squadron has mutinied. The Navy's being brought in to deal with it."
TO: Director, COM I NT
FROM: COMINT Communications Center
MESSAGE: IS Capture of agent Clarity con
firmed. No intel on present location. Confirmation source subagent, Alba Reliability unknown. Situation unknown.
—Decoded transmission to COMINT HQ, Cathandra, Source: Classified: Most Secret, 15 Oct 6830
Rannic Colby sighed as he blanked his desktop computer screen, then swiveled his suspensor chair on its balanced nullfields so that he could lean back and look out the transplex window of his office. Golden light bathed the room. The planet's huge, cratered moon showed against the deep blue sky as a pale white crescent arcing from horizon halfway to the zenith.
Colby's thoughts were beyond that sky. He had just read confirmation that a COMINT agent, one of his agents, had been taken by TOG Security. Clarity had not reported to Colby's office for many weeks. Though that made it seem certain that Clarity had been taken, confirmation even from a source of unproven reliability was a bio w nonetheless.
Until Clarity's disappearance, events within the far-off Gael Cluster had been developing along lines that interested Colby's department. Commonwealth Intelligence took an active interest in any world or district that showed signs of independence, nationalism, or a willingness to stand up to the all-powerful might of TOG in a bid for freedom. With the gradual relaxation of the usual TOG restraints against local autonomy in the Gael Cluster, COMINT might have been able to use it for their own ends. Now it looked as though the Gael Confederation's brief stretch of freedom under TOG's dominion seemed to be closing do wn. Even worse, Colby had lost a valued agent-in-place.
Thunder rolled from the starport visible below Colby's window. A squadron of Guardian heavy Interceptors lumbered skyward, struggling for speed and altitude.
And just how long will it he before TOG closes in on the Commonwealth? Colby turned from the window and returned to his desk. Agent lost or not, the bureaucratic monster still had to be fed its daily reports and requisitions.
If TOG doesn't finish us, the bureaucrats will, he told himself ruefully.
It was impossible to get further information from the escorting fighters. As Kendric pointed out, the Squadron Leader had already said too much to strangers by admitting that a mutiny existed at Alba Port.
Mutiny! Kendric could only guess at what the actual situation might be.
"We've got to find out what's going on down there," he said to the others. Still dogged by their escort, the Corrine had slowed to less than fifteen kps and was in its final approach toward Alba orbit. They had been directed by the escort squadron leader to enter orbit twenty kilometers behind the station and to hold that separation. A resolution to the problem was expected momentarily. Once that happened, the freighter could approach and dock normally. Already, deep-scan radar had picked out several spacecraft with commercial transponder IDs at the indicated point, awaiting access to Alba's orbital port.
"They're not letting anyone even board the station?" T.C. asked.
"Nope." White was still linked to his ship, but his voice was being piped through a speaker in the ship's lounge. "I've tried calling the Port Authority direct. What I get is a female telling me that all communications are temporarily suspended. I did raise another freighter Captain, though."
"Oh?"
"Skipper I know on a tramp called the Elsinore. He's parked out there waiting like the rest of us. Told me the word is that they have an Overlord at Alba Port, and that he's trying to talk the mutineers down."
"Who is he?" Kendric asked uneasily.
"Magnan Domitius Gracchi," White's voice replied. "Known as Carnifex...the Butcher.
Kendric's decision to return to Alba had been almost an unconscious choice, born partly of worry for what Jaime said was happening there and partly of yearning for a home he had all but forgotten. To go back would put him directly into confrontation with TOG. That shouldn't matter, he thought. Not after Grod.
But it did matter. Even after weeks in the hell of the mines of Grod, he could not erase the commitment to personal honor bound in the Imperial oath he had given once, at Grelfhaven, a few weeks after Cara's death. Was that devotion some part of the love he had felt for Cara?
They had signed their formal marriage contract not long after Kendric had begun his four-year training tour at the Academy. She had died less than a month before his graduation. Perhaps that was why renouncing his Imperial oath seemed more than a renunciation of a warrior's honor. It would be an admission that he had been wrong to take his bride to Grelfhaven because it had been wrong for him to be there in the first place.
Another woman lay enfolded within his arms now. Spent from their lovemaking, the two of them clung to one another in the larger embrace of the cabin's suspensor field. Kendric had desired her for so long, but had feared that his feelings would frighten T.C. away. The horror of Grod had continued to cling to her after their escape, and there were old wounds there that he had been afraid to touch. It had been T.C. who finally let him know of her own need when he'd told her of his plans a few hours before their final arrival in Alba orbit.
"We could leave," T.C. whispered. Her face glistened in the dimmed light, moist with tears. "Zan's not crazy about staying here, not when the Port Authority might peg him as a known runner. He'll take us to the Commonwealth."
"I can't do that, love. Not when...my people are in trouble over there. I've got to go."
"What can you do to help them?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But they tried to help me at Haetai. If I were to turn and leave them now, how could you live with me, knowing I'd done it? How could / live with me?"
"I know." Her whisper was so soft he barely heard the words.
"Do you?"
She nodded. "How often I've wondered if my parents would still be alive if I'd...if I'd made a different choice when my commanding officer made me that...offer."
"You did what you knew was right. You couldn't have known.
"No. But I also know what it's like, spending a lifetime questioning a decision, wondering if you were wrong." Her arms tightened around
Kendric as she pressed against him. "Oh, Ken, I might never see you again."
"We'll find a way. Somehow. I promise that." She kissed him. "Somehow," she said.
Speed reduced to a crawl, their escort long since returned to the outer system, the Corrine approached the parking area behind the space station. Alba Port was visible on the freighter's forward screens as a tiny, silvery disk. The other ships in the area, separated from one another by kilometers of space, were visible—if at all—as distant and occasional glints of sun on metal. For the most part, they were seen only as computer graphic markings on the bridge tactical display.
Kendric, Jaime, and T.C. stood in the Corrine's lounge. Kendric wore an emergency space suit borrowed from one of the ere wmembers who was approximately his size and build. Like the emergency pressure suits worn by Naval officers and ratings aboard warships, it was strictly a lightweight, personal survival suit. More a coverall with built-in boots than deep-space garment, the suit was form-fitting, with gloves and helmet that sealed off wrist and neck openings. A small recycler unit at the small of his back would provide him with air for perhaps two hours, if he did not exert himself.
"Captain," Jaime said. "If you want a volunteer..."
"Did I ask for one?" Kendric was looking at T.C. She seemed withdrawn and quiet, but her eyes were shining. "I've got to get over there," he said. "This is the only way I can figure to do it. It should be safe enough."
His course had seemed obvious enough after he'd given it some serious analysis. Douglass had been able to fill him in on what had been happening at Alba Port and aboard the squadron ships since Kendric's court-martial at Trothas, but since the Gaidheal's return to Alba, recent events were a mystery. The Gaidheal and the Damadas had appeared out of nowhere over Haetai-Aleph in an attempt to rescue him. The Damadas had been destroyed. What had happened when the Gaidheal had returned? Had the rescue attempt been a serious enough breach of orders that the Gael Squadron had been declared in mutiny? What was going on?
Obviously, the onl
y way to find out was to get aboard the Gael Warrior personally. With the Corrine unable to dock at Alba Port, Kendric would have to get to the Gael Warrior some other way.
"Ten minutes, Captain Fraser," White's voice said over the lounge intercom. "Better get in position."
"Be right there." He picked up his helmet and turned to go. T.C.
stood in his way.
"I'll be all right, T.C.," he said. "Simple physics. As long as Captain White doesn't get his sums wrong. But that's not very likely, is it?"
She shook her head.
Kendric looked at Jaime. "Take care of her, will you, son?"
The young pilot grinned. "Hey, do you trust me with the Captain's girl?"
The joke fell flat. "I'm not anyone's girl," T.C. said quietly.
"Just watch out for her," Kendric said. "She can take care of herself, believe me, but I'll feel better knowing someone else has got her interest in mind."
"Yessir." Jaime's face worked against conflicting emotions. "Captain...are you sure this is such a good idea? The station has defenses. They'll shoot you down going in!"
"Not if I'm going too slow for the computer watchdogs to sound an alarm." He shook his head. "There's too muchjunk floating around out here now for an alarm to sound every time a chunk of junk with a low relative velocity drifts past."
"Well... the ship, then. They'll think you're one of the Overlord's men trying to sneak in."
"I don't think so. From what we've been able to pick up, there's some kind of stalemate in there. They certainly won't shoot me dead in space and risk starting an all-out battle!"
"I don't like it, sir."
"So what's to like?" Kendric turned to T.C. again. She had been so quiet since their lovemaking earlier, so withdrawn. Would it be so terrible to back out now, to tell White they wanted to go to the Commonwealth, the three of them? Morganen was a good man. He would be able to handle things, work out a compromise. Perhaps.. .No!
Kendric knew what he had to do. It was as simple as that. Reaching out, he laid a gloved hand on T.C.'s shoulder. "I'll be all right. I promise you, T.C. But.. .that path I told you about. This is the first step. I've got to get back there, to my people. After that, I'll know what to do...where to go."
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