She gave the voice credit on one account. It wasn’t exactly glib. It told her what it wanted and she gave it and that was that, no further discussion. If she didn’t give it, a brief reminder of Zernin-deprivation shot through her.
She assumed that it was storing up this information for Zarpfrin. The bastard hadn’t told her that the device he’d planted this time had a brain of its own, though it made sense.
The thing functioned as a kind of conscience for her. She had the distinct feeling that Arnal Zarpfrin was peering over her shoulder, chuckling softly to himself about his ingenuity. The irony of the situation was that it was so much like the last time: if she didn’t have so much other paraphernalia riding around inside her, this implant would be detected immediately by any cursory, Starbow sensor check. The last time, though, she wasn’t aware of an implant’s existence. This time she was aware—but she could do nothing about it.
They had just passed through the hydroponics section and approached a door with an off-limits insignia.
Enter this door.
Sorry, Laura thought silently, communicating to the voice. Strictly off-limits. There’s a lot on board the ship that I’m not going to be able to get into. And if I do, they’ll suspect me and detain me and find out maybe that I’m about three ounces heavier than before I made the trip down to Walthor.
Understood. Should opportunity arise, take it.
Very well, you bastard. But I won’t like it.
Please desist with rebellious attitude. Warning. Warning!
Humorless shit! Even talking with Zarpfrin was better than this! She wanted to collapse and cry, but feared that the implant would interpret this as a threat and deal with it accordingly.
“Pilot Laura Shemzak!” an announcement blared over a loudspeaker. “Please report to Captain’s cabin.”
What could they want from her now? Couldn’t they just let her wander around in peace for a while, before she had to gallivant off on another mission?
She dragged toward the lift.
Attitude uncharacteristic, said the voice. Please assume normal manner lest suspicion fall.
“Goddammit! Fragging demands! Demands! Demands!” she yelped. She formed a fist and hit a bulkhead.
Excellent.
She had to laugh.
“So what the hell do you want now, Northern?”
Laura Shemzak paraded into the room and plopped down on a chair, lifting her boots onto a table. Despite everything that had happened, despite the despair that lingered deep within her, she didn’t feel too bad.
Maybe the goddamned implant had increased her Zernin supply or something. Whatever it was, she was finally beginning to feel fit and feisty again.
Captain Northern was stone-cold sober, drinking soda water flavored with some exotic citrus fruit.
“I want to go over some things with you,” he said in a businesslike tone. Then he broke out in a smile. “By the way, Laura, you’re looking quite beautiful. A day’s rest has been good for you.”
“Yeah, and a bath and a change of clothing.” The ship’s store had asked her what kind of clothes she wanted. She refused the standard Starbow uniform in favor of duplicates of her favored night-black jumpsuit and glossy boots, offset with a bright red scarf. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He looked crisp, clean, and efficient in his casual khakis, complete with epaulets and brass buttons.
“Another adventure. But more to come, I think, for you and I?” His eyes glimmered strangely.
Watch out! she thought. And he hadn’t even been drinking! From the beginning he’d been attracted to her. The astonishing thing was that lately she realized that she wasn’t just infatuated with this handsome, erratic, but very personable starship captain. She had deeper feelings for him. Feelings that had grown as she had learned about the man’s faults and the deeper things about him: his loyalty to his friends, his allegiance to his cause, his love for his ideals. All beneath his exasperatingly playful and cynical veneer.
That he was terminally sexy with his beautiful eyes and chiseled features and wild rumpled hair, didn’t help much.
And here he was, getting interested in her too! Laura Shemzak the walking booby trap; the druggie who in her very return to the Starbow had betrayed its crew, its cause … and a man she cared for—its captain.
It took her just a twinkling of a moment to realize what she had to do.
“We’ve been through a lot, Northern,” she said caustically. “And we’ve got a lot more to go through before this wretched business is all through. Let’s keep the flirtation to an absolute minimum, okay?”
His mouth twitched, his eyes blinked, and for a second she saw a spark of hurt in them. Then he looked away.
“Yes. Yes, you’re absolutely correct, Pilot.” When he looked back again, his expression was cut from stone. “Actually, there were other things that we have to discuss. For that reason I have taken the liberty of calling Chivon Lasster up here. She should be here soon. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink?”
“Yeah. How about some of that stuff you got from your pal on Kendrick’s Vision. Brandy is it?”
A bemused expression came to Northern’s face. He said, “Laura, I thought you said that you didn’t drink because it was bad for your nervous system as a blip-ship pilot!”
“This whole goddamn trip has been bad for my nervous system!” she almost shouted. “A couple swigs of brandy ain’t gonna do it that much more harm.” She shrugged, quieting. “Besides, Dansen Jitt tells me that there’s no way we’re going to make it back to Earth from here in less than a week.”
“Right, and during which time we’re going to have to figure out how to get through the considerable Solar System defenses unnoticed. But that’s neither here nor there, Laura. You still are just not a drinker. You know, even with all the medical backup systems in this day and age, the junk really isn’t good for you.”
“You’re worried about what’s good for me when I’m about to be sent off on another suicide mission?” She chuckled. “Just shut up and pour me the stuff.”
Northern went to his cabinet, pulled out a bottle and a glass, and poured.
“More,” she said.
Northern shrugged and poured the glass three-quarters full. He gave it to Laura, who stared at it a moment, then sipped it tentatively.
Her first impulse was to spit it out, but she managed to get it down without too much grimacing, and after a moment of disconcern in her stomach area, a warmth spread.
“I can feel it eating away at my stomach lining,” she said. She began to feel a little dizzy. “Now it’s after the brain cells.”
“I told you, my dear. Perhaps you should give me that glass back.”
“Hell, no!” She took another sip, larger this time. This went down a little easier. “I can handle it. I’m gonna need something if I gotta talk to that Lasster bitch.” The sensation from the drink seemed to loosen her tongue, and she looked at Northern in a sarcastic, squinty way. “I guess now that she’s come over to your side, you two can get back together again, eh?”
Northern raised his eyebrows. “I think that despite our past, at this point that’s highly unlikely, Laura.” He smiled lightly. “What’s wrong? Jealous?”
Warning, said the voice within her. Depart from this line of conversation.
“Jealous of that chunk of ice?” Laura responded immediately. “You’ve gotta be kidding. Let’s just drop this, okay, and get on toward important stuff like saving those Whositwhatsis pals of Mish, so we can finally get on with getting my brother out of the fix he’s in. That is the main reason I’m here, you know.”
Commendable, said the voice.
“It all ties in together,” said Northern nonchalantly.
“Unless we get blown up by the Federation!” Laura burst out. “With Lasster’s defection, you can
bet that old Zarpfrin is gonna double-team efforts to nail our asses!”
Of course, her own tail still smarted from the puncture wound.
“I am well aware of the situation, Laura,” said Northern. “But Zarpfrin is surely not planning on a visit to Terra from the Starbow.”
Yeah, but he would find out soon enough.
Curiously, the alcohol seemed to dim her desire to confess the whole thing to the man, and maybe save the Starbow. Right now, she just didn’t give a damn.
Exemplary! commented the voice. It sounded a little strange, but Laura hardly noticed, since it seemed to let a little more Zernin into her blood system. She was starting to really fly now—she felt great, and she really didn’t care much about anything else but feeling great.
The door chimed. Northern punched a button, allowing entrance to Chivon Lasster.
She walked in coolly and sat down with a polite nod to Laura. The urge to thumb her nose at Chivon was strong, but Laura contained it.
Chivon wore a more informal version of the khakis that Northern wore, and Laura was sorry to see that she looked good in them. Her hair was much the same as Laura remembered from their last encounter on Earth: blond, with bangs. Her no-nonsense nose and faintly pointed chin were both turned up slightly too high for Laura’s taste.
Still, she had bailed Northern out of trouble—and apparently, judging from Zarpfrin’s reaction, she was for real. No goddamn voices ringing in her head.
“Thank you for coming, Chivon.”
“I am, of course, at your service, Captain Northern.”
“I just bet you are,” sniped Laura, gripping her glass tightly.
Chivon glanced over to the blip-ship pilot and said, “I thought you didn’t drink, Laura. Clearly, you shouldn’t.”
“I can do what I goddamn well please,” returned Laura. “I’ve been here longer than you.”
“I don’t believe that either of you are ranked aboard the Starbow,” said Northern. “And I’m not about to play favorites. Believe it or not, I actually want to hash out something serious here that only the three of us can really talk about.”
“And what’s that?” asked Laura.
“Arnal Zarpfrin. Our dear Friend. Machiavelli of the starways.”
“He’s a Feddy,” said Laura, eyeing Chivon distastefully. “He’s a baddie. That’s his job.”
“No, I’ve been putting this and that together. The lack of Jaxdron activity on Walthor indicates that if there is indeed a spy operation being conducted within the human-held worlds, it’s controlled by the Federation. Which makes one ask, how did the Jaxdron find out about the project on Mulliphen, and specifically, how did they find out about the abilities of Calspar Shemzak?”
“I wish I could tell you,” said Chivon softly. “But that wasn’t my area of management.”
“Another factor, then. This business on Kendrick’s Vision. The Jaxdron had Freeman Jonst scared so shitless, he was willing to seek protection from the Federation.”
“That’s becoming a common occurrence these days, “said Chivon. “It’s a fairly obvious situation. We have a war going with a powerful civilization and the Federation has been using that war to renegotiate ties with the Free Worlds in return for protection.”
“But, of course, once they get enough ships for protection around these planets, they can just take them over again!”
“That is a possibility that Zarpfrin mentioned, and I was fully aware of that, as were all Friends. We all desired the return of as many Free Worlds as possible to the Federation fold, in the least violent manner.”
“Hmm. And I bet that dear old Zarpy has been making a lot of trips lately, hasn’t he?”
“Well, yes, he has, as far as I can tell.”
“This whole way he dealt with you, Laura,” said Northern. “Mish and I have run an analysis on it, and it indeed fits a predictable pattern. Now, let’s hypothesize upon a few facts, shall we? For a bunch of nasty, awful, powerful, planet-hungry bug-eyed monsters, the Jaxdron have certainly done a minimum amount of damage. Oh, sure, they’ve taken a few worlds, but the Federation and the Free Worlds constitute thousands of planets. And sure, there have been some space battles between fleets, but not really that many. It’s my opinion, and Mish’s, that all of this has been for show.”
“Just a goddamned minute!” Laura said. “We know the Jaxdron exist. We’ve fought with them. And their ships sure weren’t built by the Federation. Jitt got that psychic message and—”
Northern held up a hand. “Whoa there, lady. Hold your horses. How’s that for an expression you might use?” He smiled. “I’m not saying the Jaxdron don’t exist. I’m just saying that they’re not really interested intaking over the human-held worlds that much. What I’m saying is that all facts point in one direction. Arnal Zarpfrin contacted them some time back and made some unholy alliance, some complex deal with them. Complex, of course, because it fully plays into what the Jaxdron want … which, of course, is the X factor. All we know is that they want to use Cal Shemzak—and they want the secret that’s aboard this ship. But then everyone does. No, there is more, but we have to discover them and them alone.”
Chivon was astonished. “Yes … Yes, that would make sense. But if that is what Zarpfrin has been doing, then it’s without the full knowledge of the Council.”
“Which is possible?”
“I’ve learned in the past weeks, Northern, that anything is possible.”
“Right. So it seems simple enough, once you’ve got past the idea of Zarpfrin getting through to the Jaxdron, communicating with them, and striking some sort of a deal. The Jaxdron play the bogeyman, scare the daylights out of the Free Worlds, and one by one they seek help from Big Daddy Federation. Planet after planet will be inducted back into the Federation, whether they like it or not. Guys like Freeman Jonst will wake up one morning with a skyfull of Feddy ships and the message, ‘You’re part of the gang again!’”
“But why would Zarpfrin allow the Jaxdron to destroy the project and take Cal?” asked Laura, playing along.
“Simple. Zarpfrin is really against any kind of project that will open up more space. It’s like I mentioned before—why he’s frightened of the portals. He doesn’t want to go any farther. There are more powerful civilizations out there in the Universe. He wants mankind to develop in different ways, to perhaps become more advanced and powerful and militaristic in order to prepare to spread out farther and not get conquered. But he also wants to consolidate the human-held worlds already in existence. And along the way, wipe out gadflies like us star hounds on the Starbow.”
Chivon nodded. “Yes. Yes, that must be it!”
“So Laura, there are still unanswered questions as to why he allowed you to go out to try to rescue Cal. Part of it has to do certainly with the possibility of your running into us, which he saw on his prediction matrix. But there’s more. More that can only be discovered by finding out fully what the Jaxdron want.”
“But we’re still going after Cal, then,” said Laura.
“Oh, definitely,” said Northern. “I just wanted to puzzle some things out, see if there’s anything you two can add.”
Plenty, thought Laura, if only I could.
“Nothing,” said Chivon. “Only from everything that Zarpfrin has said to me—and the things he hasn’t said—this sounds like an excellent explanation.”
“Sounds like he wants more than just the good of the Federation to me,” said Laura.
“Yes,” said Northern. “That’s highly likely.”
“The ultimate dream of a megalomaniac,” said Chivon. “And power beyond the imagination ….”
“Yes,” said Northern. “I do believe that old Zarpy wants quite a bit more than he lets on.”
Chapter Seven
Chivon Lasster knew the Starbow from her days as its copilot. Nonetheless, she was astonished
at the variety of changes effected upon the ship in these past years. They were three days short of Earth, the crew relaxing after their feverish adventures, and for the first time in years, Chivon felt truly rested—rested and safe. She and Northern had agreed that her role would be minimal for a time—best for her mental health—and she would be called upon only if truly needed.
Which was fine by her, since life aboard the Starbow was so strange to her now.
One of the robots—named Alexander the Great—was delegated as her guide and servant, and, she suspected, her keeper. She elected to tour the areas of the Starbow to which she was allowed access.
The others of the crew remained friendly but slightly aloof. She couldn’t blame them. After all, here in their midst was a person who had once sworn to capture them. A hated Friend of the Federation. It would take more than a while for them to warm up to someone like herself—especially since Chivon’s personality was not exactly congenial and warm, as she well knew. Still, that was all right, since she needed time to herself to think things out.
The one individual she missed the most was Andrew. He was the one person she felt she could really trust, who seemed to know her better than she knew herself. She could talk to Andrew, really talk. About anything. She missed that. A fleeting thought came to her that since Dr. Mish was the same sort of being as Andrew, that perhaps she might be able to talk to him ….
But, of course, that was impossible. One of the reasons that Andrew had been so good with her was that he was a CompComp—an official Computer Companion with total access to all the records the Federation kept on each individual from birth. Andrew knew her favorite colors, her hobbies, how many lovers she had had: everything. To this, of course, he had added his special brand of ancient wisdom—alien wisdom at that, she thought wryly—which surely Mish had too. But there was no way she could ever begin to give Mish all the information that Andrew had.
Perhaps it was just as well, she thought. She had to learn to depend upon herself for these kinds of things—especially since, for the sake of unselfish principles totally new to her, she had just ripped herself away from the social structure from which her mind had literally grown.
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