The Relativity Bomb

by Arlene F. Marks

  Drew swallowed hard. The Nandrians had been drinking. “Holchuk?” he murmured uncertainly.

  The other man leaned close and whispered, “Careful, boss man. See the markings down the left sleeve of his uniform? That one’s a Third Shield, superior in rank to everyone on this deck but you.”

  “But I’m a Third Shield.”

  “You were, before we became a House. Now you’re a Hak’kor. Stand tall,” Holchuk hissed into his ear. “Everyone defers to you now. But that doesn’t mean you can do things out of order.”

  Fair enough, thought Townsend, his lofty new position making him feel a little light-headed. He would begin with the first contact speech, directed to the higher-ranked Chief Officer, and proceed from there.

  “Greetings, honored guests from the House of Trokerk, and welcome to House Daisy Hub. Daisy Hub has a glorious history dating back to—”

  “We already know it,” Nagor cut in. He was swaying a little and apparently having some difficulty keeping his eyes focused. The other Chief Officer slowly turned his massive head and impaled him with a cold stare.

  Townsend froze, remembering after a moment to close his mouth, as a single thought filled his mind: Had Nagor just insulted the other Chief Officer? Was Nandrian blood about to be spilled on A Deck?

  The moment stretched out, thickening the air with tension. Then the second Chief Officer emitted the snorting, wheezing sound that was the aliens’ version of laughter. Warily, Townsend began to relax. “With respect, Hak’kor, Nagor ban Nagoram, Fifth Shield of House Trokerk, has heard this story many times. He recounted it to us while we were repairing our ships,” the Nandrian said. “I am Agnosk ban Sitgaram, Third Shield of House Trokerk. Please honor us by continuing on to the good part.”

  Drew stared a question at Holchuk and received a helpless shrug in response.

  All right, then, he thought with growing unease. They had evidently skipped to the introductions.

  Townsend drew a steadying breath and began. “It is my honor to introduce myself. I am Drew, son of … Dammit!—”

  He was interrupted by a sudden chorus of snorting and wheezing. Drew’s stomach dropped as he realized that all six aliens were laughing themselves silly over his name.

  The good part, he thought sourly. Of course.

  Glaring at Holchuk, Drew muttered under his breath, “You told Nagor, didn’t you?”

  The other man shrugged again. “I might have used it as an example while explaining about Human nervousness.”

  “They have to respect me or we’re all fried, remember? Your words,” Drew reminded him sternly.

  “…spoken when you were Third Shield. Now you’re First Shield. And they do respect you, boss man — as much as they’re able to respect anyone after imbibing several glasses of lemon juice.”

  “Besides, Drew,” Ruby chimed in, “isn’t it good to know that the Nandrians have a sense of humor?”

  “Hear me, Hak’kor,” bellowed the big Chief Officer, commanding instant silence and attentiveness. “We had heard of the Human love of fun, and we are grateful that you deemed us worthy to witness this demonstration of it. Now, please honor us by telling us your true name.”

  At last, a chance to set the record straight! Pulling himself up to his full height, Townsend threw out his chest and announced, “I am Drew, son of David, First Shield of House Daisy Hub.”

  He paused for a moment to recognize how satisfying it was to hear himself speak those words. The Nandrians paused too, as though it were a normal part of the ceremony.

  After that, the rest of the introductions proceeded smoothly, in traditional prescribed order: first, Chief Officers Agnosk and Nagor announced their full names; then Drew identified Ruby as his second in command and the Nandrians took turns introducing their seconds; and finally, Drew presented Holchuk as his third in command and Agnosk and Nagor followed suit.

  “You come here victorious from tekl’hananni,” said Townsend, following the script. “Please honor us with a telling of your triumph.”

  With that, Nagor and Agnosk launched into an energetic account that bounced back and forth between them, growing wilder and more improbable with each shift of narrator. By the time they were done, their two ships had defeated an armada of over twenty vessels from five different Houses, leaving half of them drifting in pieces in the asteroid belt of a distant star system; and Agnosk had leaped valorously into space, wearing nothing but his armor, to rescue Nagor from certain death after an enemy ship had broken up while he was in the process of boarding it.

  The Nandrians fell silent and stood watching Drew expectantly. It was his turn. He might be a high official in their eyes, but his tale of victory had to match theirs, or he would be considered a poor host or, worse, would not be respected as an authority figure aboard his own station. Mentally keeping his fingers crossed and mustering all the theatricality he possessed, Townsend delivered the speech Holchuk had written, with just a few impromptu modifications. Rodrigues and his shuttle were now five entire Ranger detachments, bristling with weaponry and approaching the Hub at flank speed aboard a formidable fleet of heavily armed ships. With impressive wit and guile, Townsend had single-handedly ensured that none of them could dock or get close enough to board. When one of the Rangers had slipped past him onto the station, intending to make off with Daisy Hub’s tseritsa, the fearless Hak’kor had then chased the intruder from one deck to the next, finally overpowering him in Soaring Hawk’s workshop and ejecting the Ranger through an airlock. In so doing, Townsend had saved the honor not only of Daisy Hub, but also of Trokerk.

  At the end, the Nandrians bared their lower fangs in approval. Drew had to resist the urge to take a bow. He was now a Hak’kor, after all, and the First Shield bowed to no one.

  Closing remarks were brief. Drew invited the two Nandrian crews to come and celebrate their victory aboard the station. Following the script, the two Chief Officers accepted, praising him for being an excellent host.

  On a signal from Drew’s wristcomm, Lydia opened both docking portals wide, and a stream of big alien warriors began pouring through them, snorting and wheezing and headed for the tube cars. The three Humans remained standing in the middle of the deck, safe and untouched, as the Nandrians swarmed around them. When the crowd had thinned out, Holchuk turned to face the newly-minted Hak’kor, wearing an expression that was equal parts pride and amusement. “Well done, boss man. You understand.”

  “Yeah, I have my moments,” he conceded wearily. “By the way, Holchuk — an airlock?”

  The other man shrugged. “It’s what a Nandrian would have done. Besides, I just felt that somebody should go through an airlock today, and you won’t let me space Karlov.”

  Beside him, Ruby snapped to attention, her cheeks dimpling. “Permission to go down to the caf and join in the Human custom of fun, sir?”

  Drew waved her toward a tube car, thinking of all the work he still had to do. First, O’Malley had to be debriefed. Lydia would want to be present, if only to assure herself that he really was going to be all right. Then, and only after the Nandrians had left the station, Townsend could resume interrogating Karlov. Meanwhile, there were reports to prepare for the Space Installation Authority, Space Installation Security (Covert Ops), and Earth Intelligence, each one carefully worded and omitting all mention of Houses, tseritsas and a certain one-eyed Stragori.

  — «» —

  “Agnosk begs a favor from the Hak’kor.”

  Startled, Townsend glanced up from his light screen and found Holchuk standing in front of his desk. He’d been so busy with his report that his brain hadn’t registered the sound of the tube car door opening.

  “He begs?”

  “From the Hak’kor,” Holchuk repeated.

  “And he sent you instead of coming himself?” Not that Drew was particularly anxious to be joined in AdComm by a seven-foot-tall reptilian warr
ior, drunk or sober. However, Agnosk was a first-time visitor, and Townsend had reason to be hyperconcerned about Nandrian protocol at that moment.

  “Normally the Kalufah would be the go-between,” Holchuk explained, “but Ruby’s not available, so I’m standing in. It’s unorthodox, since I’m technically in the Fifth Shield of House Trokerk. However, you did introduce me as your third in command, so—”

  “Wait a minute. He said he wants a favor?” Drew cut in, struck by a sudden thought. “But isn’t it the Nandrian custom to state a need and let the other person decide how to meet it?”

  “When honor is involved, yes. But this is more about his personal curiosity.”

  “And what exactly is he curious about?”

  “He would like to speak with Karlov.”

  Townsend sat bolt upright in his chair. “How does he know about Karlov?” he demanded. “Did you—?”

  “Not a word, boss man. But you have to understand something. They may look like big, lumbering brutes, but the Nandrians are not stupid. They’ve been partying with our crew for the past several hours—”

  “—and something was bound to slip out,” Drew supplied ruefully. “So, they know we have him. Terrific. What happens if I simply say no?”

  Holchuk thought for a moment. “You’d be within your rights, of course. But he could then ask you to explain why, and you’d have to give him a reason, since denying a respectfully made request without cause is considered to be an insult.”

  “Okay,” declared Townsend. “Karlov is a prisoner and I’m in the process of interrogating him. How’s that for a reason?”

  “Prisoners are shackled and kept in the brig,” Holchuk pointed out. “Or they’re made as uncomfortable as possible and barraged by questions. Where is Karlov right now?”

  Reluctantly, Drew replied, “Asleep in Med Services.”

  “So, that excuse won’t fly. Have you got a more plausible one up your sleeve? Because, trust me, the truth will not work in this situation. We have twice the usual number of Nandrians aboard, carousing on every deck but this one, and they’re all drunk on lemon juice. The ones that aren’t passed out are staggering around with hair-trigger tempers and battle-ready reflexes, making life interesting for Hagman and his Security team. Confessing to harboring a Stragori spy who’s been training to kill Nandrians would probably be the last mistake you ever made, especially since Daisy Hub is also in the middle of tekl’hananni. As I see it, if you want to keep the peace on this station, your one and only option is to find a way to grant Agnosk’s request.”

  He was right. Townsend blew out a frustrated breath and thought hard. He wasn’t yet ready to wake Karlov up, and shipping him off to the brig on Zulu would create more problems than it solved. “All right,” Drew decided, overruling the misgivings that had already begun turning his midsection to soup. “Tell Agnosk that I’ll give him two minutes with Karlov, but not until the current celebration is over and all the other Nandrians are aboard their ships and ready to depart.”

  “That should work,” said Holchuk. “I’ll let him know.”

  CHAPTER 22

  There were five patients, all Human, sitting in the Doc’s triage area when Townsend walked through the Med Services door. The sight of them sent a shiver down his spine. Thankfully, Will DeVries was not among the injured. The crewman would need to be healthy and alert when it came time to move A Deck beyond the sensor field for the Nandrian ships’ departure.

  “What happened to them?” Drew asked the Doc, frowning.

  “A battle re-enactment in the caf got a little too realistic. I wasn’t there, but apparently there was a difference of opinion among the Nandrians over which ship had scored the winning point, the Krronn or the Nannssi. A fight broke out between the two crews, spilling out of the caf and into the corridor, and not all of our people were able to get out of the way in time.”

  “I trust someone broke it up?”

  “When Hagman’s team showed up, the senior Nandrian officers finally intervened. I suspect this sort of brawling is just business as usual aboard a Nandrian vessel,” remarked the Doc. Pointing with her stylus, she added, “In any case, Ramez, Fehr, and Flanagan are waiting for regen for broken bones and torn ligaments. They’ll be out of action for an interval following treatment. The other two have superficial injuries, what we in the medical profession sometimes refer to as ‘boo-boos’. Nurse Fermi is preparing to kiss them better as we speak. And what can I do for you, Mr. Townsend?”

  “I need to talk to O’Malley.”

  Her features contracted in silent warning. “I asked Lydia to take him back to his quarters to rest. That’s what he needs most right now.”

  But Drew couldn’t back down. “The Nandrians know about Karlov and one of the Chief Officers has asked to meet with him. It’s imperative that I find out what O’Malley learned about him before Karlov tried to— Before the incident,” he amended.

  Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the significance of his words. However, the stiffness of her posture and the set of her mouth sent a clear message that her priorities weren’t about to budge, not for him or for anyone else.

  “Mr. O’Malley is in a very fragile state right now,” she informed him. “And even if he weren’t, the trauma is still fresh in his mind. The brain edits memories that are too painful to recall, so I doubt whether you’ll get anything useful from questioning him at this time.”

  “Nonetheless, I have to try, Doctor.”

  A pause, then, “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I gather you’ll want me to wake Karlov for this meeting with the Nandrian?”

  “You’ll have to,” Townsend told her grimly. “Just make sure he’s tightly secured to the bed. It’s perilous enough having a bunch of drunken Nandrians careening all over the Hub. We don’t need an attempted murderer running around loose as well.”

  — «» —

  By the time Drew left Med Services to find the ratkeeper’s quarters on F Deck, the party was all but over. Most of the Nandrians were already back aboard their respective ships, sleeping off the citric acid in their systems, and the handful of aliens still on the station were in no condition to make trouble.

  As the Doc had predicted, O’Malley wasn’t much help. However, he couldn’t have been too traumatized — behind the wounded plaintiveness of his voice was an unmistakable note of indignation.

  “He knew, boss. He must have known the whole time that it was just another SPA program, but he kept stringing me along. He conned me!”

  “I know. He’s probably been conning all of us since the day he came aboard the Hub.”

  Somehow, that would have to stop. Field Investigator Drew Townsend had been forbidden to use physical abuse when interrogating a suspect. But this wasn’t the 33rd Precinct, he reminded himself, and covert operative Townsend was authorized by the EIS to do whatever it took to complete his mission, including torture a captive if he believed it would obtain results. Townsend was determined to drag the truth out of Max Karlov, and not philosophically opposed at this point to using torture to do it. However, there was one major problem: he’d been sent to Daisy Hub to get a bunch of mavericks and misfits working together as a team, and torturing Karlov was certain to break that team apart.

  Two things had been drilled into Townsend during his EIS training. The first was that the mission always took priority. The second was what to do if anyone got in the way, and this was the mantra that was repeating insistently in his brain: Turn him or terminate him.

  “What now, Drew?” Lydia wondered.

  “At this point, what choice do we have? We put two very strong and dangerous alien beings face to face and keep our fingers crossed that they don’t try to kill each other.”

  — «» —

  The following morning, as promised, Agnosk was ushered into Med Services by Hagman and Deniro. Nandrian celebrations were stressful affairs. A
fter a solid day and a half spent escorting drunken alien warriors back to their ships, the Security officers looked both weary and wired. Agnosk had evidently stopped at the caf for a proverbial “hair of the dog”. He might have had the telltale yellowish cast of a hangover when he woke up, but he was green and mellow as he stepped through the Trauma room door.

  Townsend and the Doc stood to either side of Karlov’s bed, prepared for trouble. Drew was keeping a channel open to AdComm and had given Lydia orders to seal the docking portals if she overheard anything that suggested a fight had broken out in Med Services. Meanwhile, the Doc was focused on the smaller picture. A pair of sedative-loaded injectors sat on a tray at her elbow in case one or two someones needed to be knocked out.

  Karlov lay back against the raised head of the bed, his eyes half-closed, seemingly unaware of the padded leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles — until he noticed the Nandrian standing near his feet. Karlov’s eyes opened wide and he jackknifed to a sitting position, pulling frantically — and futilely — against the restraints.

  “You!” he exclaimed.

  Agnosk made the snorting, wheezing sound and bared his lower fangs. “I heard,” he said. “I suspected. I was right.” Turning to face Townsend, the Nandrian added, “Hak’kor, I heard that you had captured a spy. With respect, it seems that we were both deceived.”

  Townsend’s jaw had dropped. He closed it, exchanged a bewildered look with the Doc, then ventured, “He’s not a spy?”

  “This one is a warrior of sorts,” said Agnosk.

  “I’m a soldier and a moderate,” Karlov corrected him. “Just because we don’t adhere to some strict ancient code—”

  “Does he have honor, Agnosk son of Sitgar?” Drew cut in urgently.

  “This one does, Hak’kor. He fights well for a Stragori. But he would not survive a warrior’s tekl’hananni.”

  Not many of us would, thought Drew. Aloud, he declared, “I need to know what is going on here. Evidently, the two of you are acquainted. How?”