W Michael Gear

by The Artifact (v3. 1) (epub)

  He leaned back, struggling to get his emotions under control. Connie chuckled humorlessly from where she kept a constant eye on the reaction mass. “Some trip.”

  “Huh!” Sol grunted, going back to his navigational chores, gaze absently straying to the silent speakers— willing them to speak. Only the silence remained inviolate.

  “Sol?” Connie nodded to the main monitor. Bits of light had begun to flicker at the edges of their detection range.

  “Ships moving to ... Blessed Architect, it looks like a whole damned fleet!”

  * * *

  Sol looked out at the faces in the lounge. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks grim. The alien ship damaged our vessel in some manner we can’t fully understand. That threat has been neutralized. However,” he waved to the screen Constance accessed from the bridge, “those are no doubt hostile vessels from New Maine, Sirius, Arpeggio, and Lord knows where else. Against them, with the ship weakened, I don’t know what our odds are.”

  Nikita studied the screens. “They are coming from all over!”

  “You might say they cast a net across our path. We simply didn’t show up where and when we were supposed to, so they spread out. Had we jumped perfectly, we’d have jumped right into a trap.”

  Mutterings erupted from the ring of politicians.

  “How dare you claim Sirius is involved in this!” Lietov blasted. “You’re purposely insulting me and my government! ”

  “Sorry,” Sol spread his arms. “We’ve ID’d one of the closing ships. She’s Sirian, Director. She demanded we turn the Artifact over to her or suffer the consequences. You’re welcome to ask her to stand to.”

  “Welcome to ask her ...” Lietov stumbled to a halt in confusion.

  “We informed them you were aboard and that to fire on us would be an assault on the Council. The Captain assured me that you were a soldier of the people and knew the risks you took.”

  Nikita smiled wickedly. “So, blinders are off. A fleet comes to demand, do they?” He looked around, searching faces. “You and I, we are all Representatives of the Confederate Council. Is no secret out there that Terran Vice Consul is aboard. Is no secret that Assistant Director Lietov is aboard. Yet, the great powers, the seekers of domination over humanity, send warships to take Artifact. To what use do you think they will put it?”

  Nikita cocked his head as if listening. “What? I hear no glib responses from honored political masters?

  “I vote we keep what has been earned by our honest sweat! I defy them to tread on my rights!” Nikita walked forward, huge hulk imposing, eyes glowering. “I am yours to command, Captain! Tell me where to stand in ranks of my comrades. This one voice, this one body, defies tyranny.”

  Sol’s smile twisted. “See Fujiki in Damage Control, Nikita. Welcome aboard.”

  Mikhi Hitavia stepped forward. “Captain, I’ve been played for a dupe once already this trip.” He dropped his eyes. “Twice would be too much. Where do you want me?”

  Others stood forward, including Lietov. “Sorry,” Sol told the Sirian. “It’s your ship which is attacking us. You’ll remain in your quarters.”

  “Vile outrage!” Lietov exploded. To his belt comm, Sol ordered, “Connie, when Lietov’s in his quarters, lock the door so he can’t get out.”

  “Acknowledged,” her calm voice returned.

  Medea stared at him. “Have you located any TPF ships out there, Captain?”

  Sol nodded soberly. “We have.”

  “I would address them.” Her face had a pinched look, a pale resignation in her dark eyes. “At least the Confederacy shall know that not all the major powers condoned perfidy.”

  “And if they refuse to back off at your order?”

  She shrugged. “Then I’ll die with the rest of you. Only, Captain, I’ll die beside Nikita—wondering what it was all worth in the end. All the sacrifice—personal and professional—and I’m still just a woman, alone, staring my death in the face. Says a lot about ideals, about the nature of power, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe we all had to find our truths this time out.” He smiled. “Good to have you with us, Vice Consul.”

  Worried, Sol took a quick tour of the ship. How long had it been since he’d fought with a nonthinking vessel? Those critical reactions would come so much slower now.

  * * *

  “From the number of ships, Captain, we’re in trouble.” Bryana studied the screens, frowning as she thought about the formation lining out. “They didn’t just think that up, either. Someone must have studied the tapes from Star’s Rest. They know about our power advantage.”

  Sol agreed, “They aren’t closing yet. They’re simply matching.”

  “Waiting for reinforcements.” Art fiddled with his screen. “I’ve managed to tag all of them, Captain. Two Arpeggians, one Sirian, and a Mainiac. Might be Defiance, the signature is the same.” Art slowly measured the spectrum of die reaction output. “There are another three or four closing in at extreme sensor range. I’m sure one is Hunter.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “You mean they’re waiting for Hunter to change vector and match?” Connie leaned forward, brow creased with thought.

  “If we had the camouflage, we could just sneak through.” Sol gritted his teeth, thinking about how easy it would be. Such fine control of the fiber optics necessitated Boaz’s marvelous brain.

  She was in there somewhere, crippled, in an emotional interlock, self-looped, only Happy’s sensors showing the spasmodic flickers of energy. Sol filled his lungs, pain ebbing from the corners of his mind. He’d seen the same thing with Gage, so badly damaged she’d killed her personality to keep them alive. Boaz acted completely unresponsive.

  “We’ve stirred the hornet’s nest,” Art decided.

  “What’s a hornet? Some sort of Terran spacecraft, isn’t it?” Connie asked, not breaking concentration on the monitor.

  Bryana laughed. “No, it’s an old Earth legentl. Hornets were built by a crazy scientist from human body parts in some sort of primitive regeneration tanks. When the Terran moon gets full, these beasts crawl out of their graves and howl while they go in search of human blood.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Connie,” Art chided. “I was born on Earth. She never set foot on it. A hornet is an insect just like the common bee we keep in stations. Unlike the common bee, these things have stingers and use them to good effect when you kick one of their nests.”

  “That’s not what my grandfather told me!” Bryana protested. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Nope,” Art grinned, “but his granddaughter sure can spin them when she wants!”

  Connie caught Sol’s eye and winked. He tried to dredge up some sort of response—only the well of his soul had gone dry.

  * * *

  “We’ve got them!” Sabot Sellers raised his glass, looking across at his daughter. Behind him, in the opulence of his personal quarters, a tactics board displayed the net drawing tight about Boaz.

  Elvina smiled at him, a gleam in her eye. “So far. I’m surprised to note that Sirius and the rest are actually following orders.”

  Sabot twirled his glass in his fingers. “They must. We’re the power in space now. Alhar forced Palmiere to order obedience to us. That keeps the TPF, the Mainiacs and the unallied parties in sway. And we have more firepower on line than they do. Disobedience will draw instant retribution. Until the lines are finally drawn, they’ll give us the lead, hoping to snatch the morsel out of the stew in the final moments. Until then, we’re to take the initiative—and the blame for failure.”

  She lifted a muscular leg, leaning back in the antigrav. “And Alhar?”

  “Once we have the device, he’s as meaningless as solar wind on a derelict hull. I do worry about you sleeping with his agent. Have you employed your charms to probe his mind yet?”

  She laughed, head back to expose her perfect throat. “Of course, Father. You think I’m a dolt? I’m the greatest assassin Arpeggio has ever produced. The foo
l’s in love with me.”

  Sellers considered. “He worries me. His arrival was too pat.”

  She stretched, the curves of her body straining the fabric. “Worried? Really, Father? Or are you just jealous? You’ve always had a thing about me—ever since you first raped me when I was twelve.”

  He turned. “And that bothers you?”

  She considered him, running slender fingers along one leg. “Not anymore. Once, I hated you for it. I can imagine how Constance feels. Trash, Father. That’s what you made me—only now I look back and see that it shaped me. Did you ever consider why I became an assassin? To kill you.”

  He nodded. “You have your chance.”

  The smile she gave him mocked. “Not on your life, Father. I’ve seen beyond my petty rages. Now, I want more. I want a House . . . and the power that comes with it. No, I won’t poison you, or cut your throat. You’re worth more to me alive than dead.”

  “And if I were to rape you again?”

  She laughed. “Don’t tempt me. It’s been years . . . who knows, I might even enjoy you. But, Father, don’t tempt me.”

  “Jordan’s Desmond has matched. He wishes an audience.”

  She stood. “I tried to get to him on Boat. He thought I was a silly hot Mormon bitch—beneath his station. Let me meet with him. As your daughter, and a power behind the throne, I’ll bet I have him panting for me within minutes.”

  “You’ll milk him dry?”

  “In more ways than one,” she promised, a cunning smile on her lips.

  “Go, then. I’ll expect a complete report.” He added coldly. “Just so you’ll know . . .I’m not jealous.”

  She stood, walking up to him, lacing her arms around his neck. Her body undulated against his, pressing, demanding. Eyes closed, she purred, reaching up to kiss him passionately on the lips, tongue darting against his, sucking at him as if to drain his very soul.

  He reached for her as she skipped lightly away, laughing. “A taste, Father,” she promised. “Save it for Constance. Take it out on her—if you can.”

  And she was gone, the hatch slipping shut behind her.

  Sabot wiped at his wet lips, eyes on the tactics monitor. Take it out on Connie . . . “Yes, Daughter, I’ll give you your House. But don’t tempt me either!”

  * * *

  Two more days dragged slowly past as the fleet which tracked them gained two more vessels to total six. Others were still cropping up on the screens at the edge of their range.

  “Can’t do a cussed thing until we shed more V,” Sol growled. “In the old movies, ships would swoop around and dart this way and that and everything was so easy!”

  “So they didn’t have inertia in films and holos,” Art grunted. “The good guys always won, too.”

  Sol cleared his throat. “Looks like this is turning into a typical Carrasco mission. Sorry, people.”

  He could see Art and Bryana looking at each other. Bryana shrugged. “According to typical stories, you always got your ship home. I can’t see any reason to break that record now, Captain.”

  “I heard through the grapevine that you know about my First Officers.” Sol stared woodenly at the screens.

  “Yeah,” Art nodded, “On the other hand, none of them were the finest team the Academy ever graduated either. We changed your odds when we spaced with you, Cap.”

  Connie added, “Message, Captain.” Her voice chilled. “It’s Hunter!”

  Sol straightened in the command chair. “Put him on.”

  Sellers’ features formed on the screen. He smiled easily, eyes glittering like his jeweled beard. “Captain Carrasco! Still alive? My voluptuous daughter is slipping. No matter, we meet again. How delightful to see the beautiful Boaz so white and pure—unscathed as it were. I’m sorry you didn’t respond to my offer off Star’s Rest. I

  looked forward to your company. Now, Captain, I’ll have to entertain you on Arpeggio.“

  “I doubt that, Admiral.”

  Sellers’ face pinched with a pained look. “Captain, you misunderstand. We are not your enemies. Rather you must—”

  “Your daughter led me to believe that was indeed the case, Admiral.”

  He nodded, voice harsher. “She’s been disciplined, I assure you!”

  “Mary Ben Geller, Ambrose Sector, Texahi, and Zion will be glad to hear that, Admiral.” He fought to keep his expression neutral. “Constance is overjoyed to know your daughter has been punished for her father’s death. Did you want to say anything else, Sabot?”

  The Arpeggian inclined his head. “Captain, I regret what has happened. Please, match with me. After that, we can smooth over the rough edges and iron out an agreement which will see that all humanity obtains equal access to the alien device. We’ve made assessments of Boaz’s strength and capabilities, Solomon. If you leave me no choice, I shall be forced to destroy you. Meet these simple requests and, I promise, I’ll allow you to depart unharmed. I give you my word of honor!”

  Sol chuckled dryly. “Admiral, I don’t doubt your word of honor, but I intend on departing unharmed. You see, I have a good ship—the best in space. I have the best damn crew you ever laid eyes on. Don’t attack, Sabot. If you do, we’ll lick all six of you.”

  He cocked his head. “My fleet here is composed of the representatives of four interstellar governments. Would you risk intragalactic conflict over a simple artifact?”

  “Would you?” Sol countered, sticking his coffee cup into the dispenser.

  Sellers nodded seriously. “For the sake of humanity, Captain, I’ll take whatever risks are necessary. Please, match with Hunter and allow me to inspect the alien ship.”

  Sol’s chuckle broke into a deep-bellied laugh. “Sabot, I don’t have it.”

  Bryana and Art exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Oh, come now!” Sellers held himself in check—but only by a hair. “You force my hand, Captain. You will accompany us to Arpeggio. Once there, I’ll show you that the device will be properly treated.”

  “For the benefit of humanity?”

  “I give you my word. I further promise that you and Constance can space with Boat, unharmed.”

  “Unharmed?”

  “You have my word on it.”

  “Would the Confederate Council representative on board, George Stokovski, be a suitable witness as to the fact the Artifact is not aboard Boaz?” Sol asked.

  “I know him. He would be acceptable.” Sellers inclined his head. “I’ll play this charade out, simply to demonstrate that I’m a reasonable human being. But, Captain, even if Stokovski can’t find it aboard, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. My daughter has revealed the wonders of Boaz to me. I’m not some simple bumpkin.”

  “Misha!” Sol ordered, “Have Ijima take Ambassador Stokovski to the shuttle deck and allow him to inspect the alien ship’s location and condition. After which, please escort him to the bridge.”

  Fan Jordan appeared magically beside Sellers. “Greetings. Captain. How good to see you again. I do wish you hadn’t escaped my hands off Star’s Rest!” The sniveling voice set Sol on edge.

  “So do I, Fan.” Sol’s voice went low. “Otherwise I would have cheerfully sent you after the rest of your fleet.” He felt his face flush.

  “This time you may not be so lucky,” Jordan hissed as Sellers motioned him away.

  Sol bit his lip as he squinted at Sellers. “Interesting company you keep, Sabot.”

  The Arpeggian’s face flickered with some amusement. “He has his uses. He thinks he’s in love with my daughter. It makes for some interesting alliances between our powers.”

  Sol’s laughter cut humorlessly, “Ready to go aristocratic on Arpeggio?”

  Sabot smiled thinly, “Perhaps they’re ready to go Arpeggian on New Maine.”

  Ijima led George Stokovski onto the bridge. The livid Councilman sputtered apoplectically as he cleared the hatch, a fist knotted in rage.

  “Where have you put it, Captain Carrasco? Where? You’ve no right to move or dispos
e of the Artifact without the consensus and approval of the Council! This is gross insubordination!”

  Sol lounged in the command chair, looking up at Sellers. “The issue of the Artifact need no longer concern us. I ditched it. It’s no longer on board my ship.”

  “Where?” Stokovski demanded. “It belongs to all mankind—not to Brotherhood thieves!”

  “Take him away,” Sol ordered and Ijima simply lifted Stokovski off the deck and hauled him off the bridge. “Satisfied?” he asked Sellers.

  The Arpeggian’s smile ghosted along his narrow lips. “I told you I’d play—not believe. You must think me a perfect idiot, Captain. I must admit, that is the slickest maneuver I have seen in a long time. You play the game well.” He shook his head. “I’m not to be deceived like a simple moron, Carrasco. No, indeed; your ship is large. There is plenty of room to hide the Artifact.”

  He waved it away, jeweled beard glinting in a rainbow of colors. “Now, Captain. We have dickered enough. Turn over the Artifact. I’ve given you a chance to save face. If you do not match with Hunter, I shall destroy your Boaz to get the alien ship! Indeed, just as I destroyed your Moriah with my detonator.”

  He laughed. “Yes, Captain, that was me! You were most careful. Any other captain would have pulled the cube aboard. I wanted an entire ship—so we set the trap for Sword. Then, I thought I’d be able to tag Gage off Tygee. You ran before I could kill you. You see, we need a section of your comm matrix for study. Now, I’ll have to use fragments of Boaz.”

  Sol stood, blood pounding through his veins. He’d loved Gage! “You? Every time you . . . There can be no negotiation between us!” Sol gritted, striving to regain control of his emotions. “Battle stations!”

  The lights on the bridge began to change from red to green.

  Time, as always, dragged while death drew closer. The formation changed as the hostile ships began to close. Sellers watched, changing position as Sol sought to skip out of their net, accelerating in fierce bone-popping bursts or braking frantically, obscuring the stars ahead as Boaz sprayed out reaction from her giant reactor.