The Long Run

by The Long Run (new ed) (mobi)

  "They don' ketch Brer Rab the thief, no, no," mumbled Trent to himself, and headed down to the coupling rings on Deck One.

  * * *

  13.

  Excerpted from the Name Historian's Looking Backwards from the Year 3000; pub. 3018, Alternities Press, CU:110.00 Zaradin:

  * * *

  Spacebase One--Colloquially, "Peaceforcer Heaven." Constructed 2019 by a consortium of SpaceFarer Companies known as the L-5 Development Co. The United Nations Peace Keeping Force assumed control in 2025, necessitating extensive rebuilding. Further expanded 2060; destroyed in the Peaceforcer Rebellion (which see), 2103.

  Spacebase One, like Almundsen Military Base at L-4, sat atop one of the two useful, gravitationally stable points in the double-planet Earth-Luna system. L-4 and L-5, aside from being gravitationally stable--i.e., objects placed in those locations tended to stay there--were also, unlike L-1, L-2, and L-3, "high ground." Lunar libration points Four and Five were situated atop the gravity wells of both Earth and Luna, and from those positions the entire Earth-Luna system could be easily controlled. It is hardly surprising that Space Force and the PKF ended up splitting those locations between them.

  Spacebase One's first use, as a PKF Elite surgery and training facility, dates to 2046; between the years 2046 and 2088 the facility regularly processed approximately fifty Elite candidates every six months. In 2088, due to the facility's increasing vulnerability to sabotage, its use as a training station for PKF Elite was discontinued. Spacebase Fourteen at Saturn, as of 2088, assumed that function.

  In 2069, there were approximately 6,500 Peaceforcers stationed at Spacebase One, an estimated two hundred of whom were Elite. The Commanding Officer, as of 2069, when Trent the Uncatchable began his historic run, was an unfortunate by the name of Etienne Géricault.

  The cargo bay was huge; it occupied the entire deck over the engines.

  Despite Trent's hurry, three SpaceFarers stood at the coupling rings that led into Spacebase One, their feet anchored to the deck by magnetic slippers tied over their boots. Pulling his way carefully along the grips, Trent made his way to within fifteen meters of the three SpaceFarers before being noticed.

  Two of the three were women, one of them a silver-haired woman who looked older than anyone Trent had ever seen; older than Old Jack, older than Beth Davenport. She said sharply, "You're not--" and then broke off.

  Trent had the maser out, pointing at them.

  Given the circumstances, the woman's voice was remarkably calm. She took a step toward Trent. "What have you done to Lieutenant Zinth?"

  "I told him to look behind himself and he did so then I slugged him. Don't SpaceFarer kids learn that trick?"

  "What have you done to Lieutenant Zinth?"

  "He's in the john on Deck Two. Unconscious, but alive." Trent gestured to the lone man. "You. Take your slippers off, throw them to me. Slowly."

  The woman's uniform bore the name patch Cpt. Saunders. She moved closer to Trent, two shuffling steps across the deck. "I take it that you are not Mohammed Vance."

  "No, I lied about that. Sorry." The first of the slippers came sailing toward Trent. He donned it, then the second, one-handed. "Please, Captain--no closer. Move away from the coupling rings."

  It seemed to Trent that the three of them moved very slowly. As they shuffled away from the coupling rings, Captain Saunders said, "What are you going to do?"

  "I don't know. I thought about trying to steal the Flandry, but I decided against it because it's too big."

  Captain Saunders said evenly, "That was sensible."

  "I figured I would steal a Peaceforcer ship instead. It's not like they're not already pissed at me."

  Captain Saunders asked, "What do they want you for?"

  Trent walked cautiously across the deck, accustoming himself to the magnetic soles, keeping the three covered with the useless maser. "They think I killed one of their Elite."

  Captain Saunders stiffened. "Oh? That's what this is all about, then. That's why the quarantine."

  "They didn't tell you that you had a murderer on board?"

  "They haven't told us a damn thing."

  "Sorry. I don't suppose you'd be interested in giving me sanctuary?"

  Captain Saunders looked Trent over, and shook her head almost reluctantly. "Not a chance. Nobody has ever killed a Peaceforcer Elite before, you know. The Erisian Claw keeps trying."

  Trent stood with his back to the closed coupling rings. "I was afraid of that."

  "They'll make an example of you."

  "They're trying." From the pocket of Lieutenant Zinth's coat he withdrew his squirt gun and without ceremony shot each of the three SpaceFarers in the face.

  They looked more stunned than if he had masered them to death.

  Trent waited while unconsciousness claimed them. In drop, their bodies slowly curled into fetal balls, the two women held in place by their magnetic slippers. When they were definitely out of it, Trent pushed them into a darkened section of the cargo bay, and left them there. He wet his finger and held it up in midair, checking to make sure that there was an air current to bring them oxygen. He returned to the coupling rings, briefcase in hand.

  The Peaceforcers waiting on the other side of the coupling rings likely did not have pictures of Trent, but it occurred to Trent that the briefcase might well be included in descriptions of him. Finally he simply shook his head. Johnny Johnny was in the briefcase; Trent had lost his first Image, Ralf the Wise and Powerful, and he was not about to lose his second.

  Letting an air of outraged officiousness descend upon him, in good SpaceFarer style, Trent palmed the pressure pad next to the coupling rings. The exterior and then the interior rings dilated open.

  Three Peaceforcers, standing at attention on the other side of the coupling rings, looked briefly startled. Their local vertical was about fifteen degrees off the Flandry's; Trent, compensating, catwalked on a slight diagonal through the coupling rings, so that he entered Spacebase One on their vertical.

  Two of the Peaceforcers, in uniform, were pointing masers at Trent as he came through. Trent dismissed them out of hand; their reactions were far too slow.

  The third Peaceforcer, in a blue jumpsuit without shoes, with a pair of magnetic slippers tied at his ankles, completing a yawn as Trent came through, did nothing but raise an eyebrow and Trent froze--

  Emile had come back from the dead.

  For several seconds his eyes insisted on interpreting it that way. The man was a tall Frenchman with unruly dark hair, and eyes every bit as expressive, almost haunted, as Garon's had been. The resemblance, down to the stiff skin that marked the man for the brass balls he was, was remarkable.

  Trent shook it off with an effort, glared at the senior Peaceforcer in the best imitation of Lieutenant Zinth that he was capable of. When he spoke, his voice was half an octave lower than normal. "First Lieutenant Nelson Zinth of The Captain Sir Dominic Flandry." Trent actually had no idea what Zinth's first name was. Ignoring the weapons trained on him, he advanced two steps toward the cyborg. They haven't told us a damn thing, Captain Saunders had said. "What is the meaning of this idiocy?"

  "Lieutenant," said the Peaceforcer Elite pleasantly enough, "I am Elite First Sergeant Rogér Colbert, at your service." He spoke English with a generic American accent. "May I inquire, Lieutenant, why you've chosen to ignore our quarantine?"

  "Your quarantine, cyborg," said Trent flatly, "isn't worth the saliva to spit on if the Flandry chooses not to honor it. You have yet to give us any reason for this foolishness."

  "Lieutenant Zinth," said Colbert equably, "this is a matter of internal United Nations security. There is a Level Three Earth-Luna alert in effect, and we can allow no exceptions." The Elite stood immobile before Trent. "Please return to your ship." The two junior Peaceforcers kept their masers pointed at Trent.

  "Who is your commanding officer, Sergeant Colbert?"

  "I report directly to Commander Géricault, Lieutenant."

  "If you
are unwilling or unable to explain the meaning of this quarantine to me," said Trent, "then I must request that you allow me to see Commander Géricault. Presumably he has the authority to explain your bizarre behavior?"

  There was a long moment of silence. "Lieutenant," said Colbert finally, "I can tell you this much. The quarantine will last no more than three hours; we are awaiting a high-speed chase ship from Earth. We have reason to believe that one of your passengers is a murderer."

  "I think," said Trent after a moment, "that I must speak to Commander Géricault. You," he said to the Peaceforcer Elite, "are not listening to me."

  Colbert spoke slowly, as though to a child. "Oh?"

  "Peaceforcer, we have some fifty-odd passengers this run. They are all Peaceforcers; your own new Elite candidates. If you wish to name one of them murderer, I'd hardly dream of arguing with you." Trent grinned at the startled look on the faces of the Peaceforcers behind Colbert. "But whether it is three hours or three minutes, the Flandry is not subject to the United Nations or its Peaceforcers, and if you think otherwise you're in for a hell of a shock." Trent held Colbert's eyes. "I will have either a complete explanation from Commander Géricault, or, Elite First Sergeant Colbert, I will recommend to Captain Saunders that we continue on to Luna--and you can pick up your murdering Peaceforcers from Luna yourself. It's up to you."

  Colbert held his head slightly to one side, studying Trent as though Colbert did not know quite what to make of him. "Bringing you to Commander Géricault would be...difficult. My orders are clear, Lieutenant; we're to let nobody off this ship."

  "You can hardly keep the ship itself from going on to Luna, Sergeant. I doubt that'll please whoever's coming on the chase ship."

  "Are you actually threatening to drag over fifty Peaceforcers to Luna against their will?" Sergeant Colbert looked genuinely intrigued by the concept. "I think that might be construed as kidnapping, which in turn might be construed as an act of war between the SpaceFarers' Collective and the United Nations."

  Trent took a long, deep breath. He actually closed his eyes, and then looked up and met Colbert's gaze head on.

  Trent said, "Let's find out."

  It hung in the balance for a long unending moment.

  Trent remembered auditing an editorial in the Electronic Times that suggested that the Unification Council would not be the slightest bit displeased to find a good pretext for a war to extend the Unification of Earth to encompass Mars and the Belt and the SpaceFarers.

  In a bemused voice Colbert said, "Gallois, Chanton. No one else comes through this lock. Kill them if you must." The Peaceforcer smiled at Trent, gently, and said, "Come with me, Lieutenant, and I will take you to Commander Géricault."

  It was 2:30 a.m., Eastern Seaboard Time, on August 15, 2069.

  One step behind, Trent followed the silent Peaceforcer through the largely deserted corridors of Peaceforcer Heaven.

  It was hard for Trent to comprehend that only a day and a half ago he had been standing at the top of an unfinished spacescraper while an Elite that could have been this one's brother had attempted to kill him.

  Peaceforcer Elite Colbert walked briskly, without looking back to insure that Trent was following him; Trent was just as pleased. He was not walking as gracefully as Colbert, surely not as gracefully as a SpaceFarer, with years of experience in drop, ought to walk. They walked through the core of Spacebase One, through the central cylinder around which the great outer wheels revolved. The central cylinder was in drop; at the rims, artificial gravity was provided through angular momentum. The wheels were not rigidly attached to the central cylinder; rather, they rotated independently of it, and of each other. The North Wheel rotated clockwise as viewed from the "north" end of Spacebase One, and the South Wheel rotated counterclockwise as viewed from that same vantage point, to cancel the tendency that a single wheel would have had to impart rotational energy to the central cylinder. For the PKF's purposes, it was the best possible design; the central cylinder had to be in drop, for surgery, and therefore it could not rotate about its axis. On the other hand, gravity was a necessity for the newly created Elites, to condition themselves for the return to Earth, and at the rim, the 4.2 kilometer-wide wheels rotated to provide 920 centimeters per second squared acceleration, nearly Earth's 980 cepssa. The wheels were connected to the central cylinder by a complex elevator system that worked only at intervals of several minutes as the spokes that led from the central cylinder to the wheels made their slow, majestic sweeps around the central cylinder's access points.

  Trent watched where they went, memorizing their route. They were nearly to the spoke elevator--Commander Géricault, like all permanent inhabitants at L-5, tended to avoid the free fall areas for any great length of time--when Trent found what he was looking for: a terminal with a full-sensory traceset, just inside the entrance to what looked for all the world like a mad scientist's torture chamber.

  They stood together in stony silence outside the elevator entrance, waiting for the rim elevator to arrive; occasionally, a Peaceforcer, passing by, would greet Colbert, and receive some word of reply. The Peaceforcers looked at Trent's SpaceFarer uniform curiously. There were not many people about; Trent supposed that even here the cycle of night and day must be adhered to in some degree. It was not unreasonable that they would have chosen to orient their day by Capitol City's.

  At last the elevator arrived.

  As the doors of the elevator curled up into a tight tube, Trent stepped in ahead of the Peaceforcer, transferring his briefcase from his left hand to his swollen right, tripping the catches in the process.

  Rogèr Colbert the Peaceforcer Elite said, "Quel?" when Trent shot him in the face with the squirt gun.

  The skin of a Peaceforcer Elite is not as absorbant as the skin of a normal human; as the doors to the elevator began uncurling, Trent just had time to dodge.

  Light flared through the space where Trent had just been, in an actinic ruby flash of light that tore through the walls of the elevator.

  As Colbert sagged into unconsciousness, the elevator began to lurch into motion. Trent stabbed frantically at the pressure point marked Emergency Stop; there was a brief pause, and Trent caught a whiff of burned meat, and then the elevator returned to its starting position.

  The smell of burned meat grew stronger, and Trent traced it to its source.

  Colbert had shot himself in the foot.

  Trent pictured himself walking through Peaceforcer Heaven in a SpaceFarer uniform, asking for directions to the slipship bay. That won't do, he thought clearly.

  The burn on Colbert's foot looked ugly, but Trent honestly could not think of anything he could do for the man. He opened the elevator doors again and stepped through, letting the doors uncurl until they were nearly closed against his briefcase.

  Trent stood in front of the elevator, waiting. A short, rather pretty woman in a PKF uniform came by shortly, and stopped, puzzled. Trent drew the squirt gun and shot her in the face, opened the elevator doors, stuffed her inside, and closed the elevator doors on his briefcase again.

  Nearly half a minute passed before a pair came by, both of them men, neither of them within ten centimeters of Trent's height. Trent shot them quickly, shoved them into the elevator. A voice immediately behind him said, in French, "What are you doing?" Trent turned swiftly to find himself looking into a pair of brilliant blue eyes, a tall female Peaceforcer in uniform, almost exactly his own height.

  Trent said, "Hello," and shot her quickly. He caught her as she went limp, dragged her back inside the elevator, and let the door close on them all.

  Looking at his collection of unconscious bodies, Trent said, "How utterly embarrassing."

  The female Peaceforcer's underwear wasn't as pretty as Lieutenant Zinth's.

  When he was dressed in her too-tight uniform, Trent stepped back out through the elevator door, and touched the pressure point marked Down.

  Moving rapidly down the corridor, he headed back toward the terminal he had see
n earlier.

  A sign immediately inside the torture chamber said Physical Therapy.

  Briefcase held between his knees, Trent seated himself before the terminal, jacked his handheld in, pulled on the terminal's traceset and closed his eyes.

  Johnny Johnny unfolded into existence like a flower greeting the sun.

  ... Hi, Boss.

  Hi, Johnny.

  Where are we?

  Peaceforcer Heaven, logged into a Peaceforcer terminal.

  Oh. Bad news, Boss.

  Tell me about it.

  And some slow damn hardware too, Boss.

  I'm sorry about that; this is hospital equipment, Johnny Johnny, not DataWatch. Can you get me a map of the station?

  Hold on a second, I'm auditing the help files...here we go. A schematic of Spacebase One appeared floating three-dimensionally somewhere just behind Trent's closed eyelids; a long fat cylinder enclosed by a pair of counterspinning wide fat doughnuts. A bright red spark appeared at the bottom of the image, followed by the legend, You Are Here. Six directions they use, Boss. Up, Down, North, South, Spin and Antispin. Up is toward the central cylinder, down is toward gravity, toward the wheels. South is toward the South Bay, where the Flandry is. North is toward the North Bay, where the Peaceforcer ships are moored. Spin is the direction the north wheel turns, antispin is the direction the south wheel turns. Johnny Johnny paused. You're going to steal a ship?

  That's the idea.

  They'll shoot you dead, Boss. Weapons emplacement, here. A green spot glowed some sixty meters away from the North Bay. Lasers, a mass driver gun, and fusion missiles.

  Show me the pilot's locker.

  Here.

  Trent disengaged from the terminal, unjacked his handheld and stood to leave.

  The Peaceforcer standing in the entrance was huge, at least fifty kilos heavier than Trent himself. He looked at Trent with a cold, measuring eye.

  Trent said brightly, with his best accent, "Bonjour."

  In French, the huge Peaceforcer told Trent to see somebody about his uniform, that Trent's appearance was entirely unacceptable.