Planet Pirates Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  And where was she? he was asked, and he replied, | with what he thought of as massive self-control, that he had no earthly idea, having arrived only that afternoon. He had parted from die staff in no mood to take die precautions diey advised. It had been his experience on dozens of worlds that a confident walk, clean fingernails, and die right credit chip would keep him out of avoidable trouble, while good reflexes and a strong right arm would get him out of die rest. So he had walked along, working off the irritation until the right combination of smells led him into a dark little place which had the food its aroma promised.

  Hot food, a good drink, and he felt much better about die world. He let himself wonder, for die first time consciously, where Sassinak was. What had really happened. He could not believe she was dead, stuffed in a trash bin down some sleazy alley. He wondered where Arly was going with die Zaid-Dayan, and what Sassinak thought about that, and if Tim ran had been piloting diat shuttle, and who else might be in it.

  Thinking about diese things, he’d paid his bill with a smile and gone out into the darkening evening where die streets looked subtly different dian they had in the sulfurous light of late afternoon. Of course he could

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  stop someone and ask. Or he could go to any of the lighted kiosks and find his location on the display map. But he could always do that later, if he turned out to be really lost. At the moment, he didn’t feel lost. He just felt that he wanted a good after-dinner walk.

  When he realized that he’d walked far beyond the well-lighted commercial district where he’d had dinner, it was dark enough to make the next lighted transportation access attractive. Ford had walked off most of his ruffled feelings. He realized it much smarter to take a subway back to the central square. He was even pleased with himself for being so careful. Only a few dark shapes moved to and from the lighted space above the entrance. Ford ignored them without failing to notice which might turn troublesome as he rode the escalator down.

  For a moment, he considered continuing to the lowest level, and seeing if he could find out anything about Sassinak. Every city had its denizens of the night, usually easy enough to find in tunnels and alleys at night. But he wasn’t dressed for that. He would hardly fit in, and if Sassinak had plans of her own going forward, he would only get in her way.

  At the foot of the escalator, he stood at the back of the platform, waiting for the next train to come. Only a small group, men and women both, who eyed his Fleet uniform and gave him room. When the train came in, he checked the number to be sure it would take him all the way in without a transfer, letting the others crowded into the first car. Ford shrugged, and stepped into the second without really looking. He had seen only a few heads in the windows. He was all the way in and the doors had thumped firmly behind him, when he realized what he saw. Thirteen Fleet uniforms, and two very nervous civilians who sat stiffly at one end trying to pretend they saw nothing.

  “Ensign Timran,” Ford said, as if he’d seen him only a few hours ago. And in a way, he had. “You do get around, don’t you?” He let his eyes rest a moment on each one, and did not miss the very slight relaxation.

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  Whatever they were up to, he had been instantly accepted as a help. Fine. When he found out what they were supposed to be doing, he would help. In the meantime ...” Tenant Sricka, I presume you’re in charge of this little outing?”

  A quick flick of eyes back and forth made it clear what part of the problem had been. Timran, in command as long as he was piloting a ship, had not been quick to relinquish that command on the ground. Sricka, a tactful Weft, had not wanted to risk confusion by confronting him: not on what might be enemy territory, in front of the enlisted marines. Ford acknowledged that tact with a quirk of his mouth. Even Timran wouldn’t argue with the Exec of the Zaid-Dayan, a Lieutenant Commander’s stripes on his sleeves.

  “Suppose I fill you in on a slight change of plans,” he said. “After you fill me in on a few necessary details, such as where you left the shuttle and how many you left with it.”

  Timran leaned forward, keeping his voice low. Ford, who had been unconvinced of Tim’s reformation after Ireta, approved.

  “Sir, it’s under shields on the replanted end of the landfill. Tenant Sricka recommended that site because it was remote from the city center but near a subway Hne. We left no one aboard, because we ... I ... we thought that we might need everyone to help the captain. Sir.”

  Which meant Sricka had tried to explain the stupidity of taking that many uniformed men into a situation where Fleet uniforms might precipitate panic, but Tim hadn’t listened and now wished he had. Typical. Ford shifted his gaze to the Weft.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “I believe I can find her, sir, given a chance to shift. It’s easier that way.”

  “For which you need privacy, if we don’t want to scare the horses. Right! Let me think.” He tried to remember how many stops he’d passed during his walk. If only those civilians hadn’t been in this car! They’d probably report this concentration of Fleet to someone

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  as soon as they got out. That decided him. “We’re getting off at the next stop. Just follow me.”

  He didn’t know where the civilians would get off, but they didn’t move when Ford stood and led the others off at the next stop. This one was no larger than the other, with only a narrow bridge to the outbound platform, and no privacy whatever. But if he led them all up to the street, they’d be just as noticeable. Unless, of course, he could get those uniforms out of sight. He got them all as far from the others on the platform as he could and explained.

  “You marines are MPs, and I’m your commanding officer. These dirtsiders don’t know one uniform from another. At least the civilians don’t. These others are belligerent drunks that we’re trying to get back to the city as quietly as possible.”

  The Wefts, consummate actors, nodded and grinned. Timran looked both worried and stubborn. Ford leaned closer to him.

  “That’s not a suggestion, Ensign; that’s an order. Now say ‘I’m not drunk’ and take a swing at the sergeant there.”

  Timran said it in the startled voice of one who hopes it’s not true, swung wildly, and the sergeant, grinning, enacted his role with vigor.

  “Don’t you bother ‘im,” Sricka said, tugging ineffectually at die sergeant’s arm. “He’s not drunk, it’s just his birthday!”

  “Happy birthday to him!” shouted the other Weft, entering into the game gleefully.

  The marines grappled, struggled, and started their drunken charges up to street level with difficulty while Ford, still spotless, apologized coolly to the civilians on the platform.

  “Sorry. Young officers, a long way from home. No excuse, really, but they’re all like this at least once. Get ‘em home, let ‘em sleep it off, and they’ll get their ears peeled in the morning.*’

  With a crisp nod, he followed his noisy troop up the escalator. With any luck, they’d assume that this had nothing whatever to do with the Zaid-Dayan. Ford had

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  never found a planet yet that didn’t know about drunken young soldiers. On the streetside, his group wavered to a halt, waiting for his direction.

  “That way,” he said. “Just be prepared to do your act again if I signal. If it’s official, let me do all the talking. I landed quite legally this afternoon by the official shuttle and all my papers are in order. Now tell me. Who’s got the Zaid-Dayan, and what’s going on up there?”

  Sricka took up the tale, and in a few sentences explained what he knew. Little enough, but Ford agreed that a Ssli would be unlikely to make a mistake.

  “If they say a Seti invasion, I’ll buy it. What’s Fleet have insystem?”

  Sricka did not know that. Ford thought about the information lock put on the invasion news, and wished he could talk to his old buddy Killin. But at least Arly could call for help via the IFTL link. Ford decided not to worry about what he couldn’t change. That brought his though
ts back to their uniforms, even more conspicuous as they came into better-lighted streets.

  “And your orders?”

  “Captain . . . Commander Arly told me to take a shuttle down in case the captain, Commander Sassinak, that is, needed it. To do whatever it took to help her.”

  “Well, then. First we’ll have to find her, then we’ll know what help she needs. And to do that, we’ll have to look less like what we are. Here, hold up this lamppost for a minute.” He had spotted a larger, much busier subway access, the kind that would have shops and other facilities on the platform below. “Sergeant, if anyone asks, tell ‘em your officer went down to make a call to the office to get a vehicle.”

  Back down underground again. He found He was enjoying this much more than he should have. Even the contrast to Auntie Q’s luxurious entourage cheered him. He found an automated clothing outlet where commuters who had just spilled something on their suit on the way to a conference could get a replacement. He dared not buy clothes for all of them, but two or three coveralls wouldn’t be excessive.

  No, four: the least expensive garment came in green,

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  blue, gray, and brown. He inserted his card, punched the buttons, and caught the sealed packets as they came out of the slot. No one seemed to be watching. Back up the escalator, packages in hand, to find the group had put on a small show for a group of late diners who’d stopped to ask questions about Ireta’s mysterious plague. He took control, briskly and firmly, and marched his troops off as if to a definite destination. Half a block later, he slowed them down again. The Wefts wouldn’t find much privacy in the subway tunnels of the inner city this early in the night. He glanced back at the marines, and met the wary glance of their sergeant. Who’d picked them? Arly? Currald? Whoever it was had had sense enough to send more than one NCO. Which should he peel off for Sassinak? The old rule held: don’t tell ‘em how to do it, just tell the sergeant what you need done.

  “Sergeant, the Wefts’11 need a couple of marines just in case someone comes after ‘em while they’re hunting the captain.” Not that the Wefts couldn’t outfight any three humans while in their own shapes, but he suspected that the mental concentration needed for hunting her could take the edge off their other abilities. “Take these clothes and the next dark patch we come to, put ‘em on over your uniforms. That’ll take care of three of you. One Fleet uniform shouldn’t be too dangerous. Then take off. Tenant Sricka, you find the captain, and tell her where the shuttle is. Find out what she needs. If she can’t contact me, you do or send one of the marines. Can you find me, the way you sense her?”

  Sricka frowned, then smiled. “I was about to say we couldn’t, sir, but you’ve changed.*1

  “That’s what I was told,” said Ford, remembering the demise of Madame Flaubert.

  “But it would be easier if one of us stayed with you.”

  Ford shook his head. “I know, but we don’t know how bad her situation is. She may need both of you, or it may be harder than you expect to find her in a maze of tunnels. It’s not like free space. If she knows she has

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  you and a shuttle when she needs it. Which reminds me. Ensign.”

  “Sir?”

  “You’ve got the toughest assignment. You’re going to have to get back out to the shuttle—alone—and be ready for a call. Can’t even guess when we’re going to need you, or for what, but I know absolutely without a doubt we will, and we won’t have time for you to take the subway back out there. D’you have rations on board for several days?”

  “Yes, sir, but ...”

  “Ensign, if I could send someone back with you I would. I need all the rest of these in the city, nearby, in case she wants them. This is not an easy assignment for someone your age.” That stiffened Tim’s backbone, as he’d hoped. “But Commander Sassinak’s told me you have potential, and if you do, young man, this is the time to show it.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Take this.” The last package of civilian clothes. “Put it on first, then go straight to the subway, and back out to the shuttle. Try to look like a young man who’s just been told he has to go back to work and fix a problem. Shouldn’t be too hard. Get some sleep. Whatever breaks won’t break right away. Just be sure you’re ready to get that thing up the instant we call for you. Ill try to patch a call to you from the Fleet offices when we get back, in an hour or so, but don’t count on it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In the next darker patch, Ford got them into a huddle. When it opened again, one “civilian” headed back to the subway access, while three others and a marine continued to the next. Ford led the other nine on toward the center of the city. It was a lovely evening for a walk.

  Chapter Twenty

  Trial day. The early news reports had more speculation about the mysterious shuttle that had disappeared “somewhere near die city” and the strange plague which supposedly afflicted anyone who’d been to Ireta. Riots in the maintenance tunnels, controlled by police with only minor loss of life.

  Sassinak winced. She and Aygar and her crewmembers had just escaped the pitched battle that erupted when the Pollys tried gas on tunnel rats who had gas masks and weapons. She hoped the newssheet was right in reporting so few deaths. Only the knowledge that she had to fight the main battle elsewhere let her live with the decision to run for it. The lower third of the page mentioned the trial and Council hearing on Ireta’s status.

  Sassinak watched Aygar reading, his lips pursed angrily. She already knew what it said. No precedent for overturning a Thek claim. But at least he was alive, and if she could get him into the Council chamber that way, he should have a chance to testify.

  Erdra had come back before dawn with a half dozen of the pearly cards that guaranteed admission, each one embossed with the name of its carrier. Sassinak had become “Commander Argray, Fleet Liaison” for the

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  duration, and Aygar was “Blayanth, Federation Citizen.” She hoped these faked IDs and the database entries backing them up would let them get into Council without being quarantined as dangerous lunatics. According to news reports, the lines for public seating had extended across the plaza by midnight. If the “invitations” didn’t work, they wouldn’t have a chance at open seats. A number of the student activists had been in the lines early, but no one knew which, if any, of those waiting would be admitted.

  At least, Sassinak thought, she looked like herself again. Bless Arly for thinking of the clean uniform; familiar in every seam, comforted her almost as much as the bridge of her ship. So did the change in Erdra’s eyes when Sassinak appeared in regal white and gold, now suiting the image Erdra had imagined.

  “Should be starting now.” Sassinak nodded to their guide without speaking. Aygar shoved the newssheet he’d been reading in a disposal slot, and came along.

  “Do you think well get in?” he asked for the fourth or fifth time. After that he’d ask what they’d do if this didn’t work. She was trying to be patient, but it got harder.

  “No good reason it shouldn’t work. It ...” internal and external communications layered in confusion for a moment. Then she realized that a Weft onplanet had managed to link her with a Weft on the Zaid-Dayan, and with its Ssli, and thence to Dupaynil on a Seti ship somewhere at the edge of the system.

  “A Seti ship!” she muttered aloud, and caught a worried glance from Aygar. “Sorry,” she said, and clamped her lips shut. «What are you doing on a Seti ship?» she asked Dupaynil.

  «Wishing I hadn’t ever made you mad.» Whether it was his mind, or the Weft linkage, that sounded both contrite and humble, qualities she’d never associated with Dupaynil.

  «Are you alone?»

  «No. A Weft, a larval Ssli, two Lethi, a Ryxi, and a Bronthin are my companions in durance vile. The Seti want witnesses to their power. Then they’ll eat us.»

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  «No way. We’ll get you out.» How she was going to do that, while str
anded onplanet with Aygar, in the middle of a Grand Council trial and hearing that was expected to turn into a revolution, she did not know. But she couldn’t let him think she wouldn’t try.

  «Don’t fret . . . we’re sending data to Arly. And I got what you wanted on the Seti, and more. That Claw escort was suborned. All but one of the crew were in with the pirates and in the pay of the Paradens.»

  Sassinak hoped he could interpret the cold wash of amazement that took all the words from her mind. She had been furious with him, but she hadn’t intended that.

  Now his contact carried a thread of amusement. «That’s all right. I didn’t think you knew. But if I live through this, you may have to fix some charges for me and a young Jig named Panis.»

  «What charges?»

  «Mutiny, for one. Misappropriation of government property, grievous bodily harm ...»

  «We’U get you out alive. I have got to hear this.»

  But right now she was too close to the Council buildings and she had to concentrate on her surroundings. Aygar strode along beside her, looking as belligerent as any Diplonian. Her Wefts from the shuttle, and two marines, had faked IDs as well. Would it work?

  They came to a checkpoint in the angle between a colonnade and the massive Council building. One heavy-worlder in Federation Insystem Security uniform stood behind a short counter. Behind it, lined against the wall, were five others. Sassinak handed over the embossed strip, saw it fed into a machine, and checked against a list. The heavyworlder’s gaze came up and lingered on her in a way she did not like.

  “Ah! Commander Argray. Your invitation’s in order, ma’am. You may enter through that door.” He pointed. As they had planned, Sassinak moved on, as if she had no connection with Aygar.

  She heard the guard’s voice behind her, speaking to Aygar and then Aygar’s steps following hers.