by Ian Whates
I shook out the overalls, which looked even grubbier than the set York was wearing. “What? Why?”
“Because you need to hide. Cleaning staff are effectively invisible, while diplomats covered in blood attract attention.”
“But I don’t need to hide,” I said. “I’m a peace mission delegate. People will be searching for me, wanting to help me.”
“The fact your Chief Negotiator is dead should be a hint that not everyone here likes peace mission delegates,” said York. “We don’t know if those people are searching for you to help you or to kill you. Unless you’ve some grandiose idea of taking over running the peace talks yourself, I suggest we take the safe option and get you out of here.”
I’d no illusions that I could take over the role of the vastly experienced Kwame Ansah. I scrubbed my face with a clean area of my right sleeve, yanked off my jacket, and pulled the overalls on over the rest of my clothes.
“Now use your diplomat emergency beacon to call the cross-sector military and request evacuation,” said York.
“Can’t you just get me to a portal so I can use it to reach Hestia Off-world?”
He shook his head. “The whole of the standard planetary portal network went down when the shooting started. The interstellar portals at Hestia Off-world may still be working because they have an independent power supply, but it would take weeks to reach them on foot from here. You have to call for emergency evacuation. Make it evacuation for two people. You can’t be trusted to find your nose on your face without help, so I’m coming with you.”
I flushed, retrieved my beacon from my jacket, and triggered it. There was a brief pause and then a female voice responded. “Military Security confirming diplomat emergency evacuation request received. State number to be evacuated.”
“Two of us,” I said.
“Evacuation for two confirmed,” said the woman. “Launching retrieval mission now. Can you reach the roof of the peace talks venue?”
I’d only been at the peace talks venue for a few hours. It was a huge, sprawling, two-storey building. I’d no idea where York had taken us except that we were still on the ground floor, and I wouldn’t know how to get to the roof anyway. I looked at York and saw he was nodding at me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Keep your beacon on so we know when you’re in position,” said the woman.
York was making beckoning gestures. I tucked my beacon into the front of my overalls and looked sadly at the bloodstained wreckage of my brand new jacket. I’d put it on for the first time the day before yesterday, pinning the silver, flaming torch symbol of an Alpha sector diplomat to it, proudly admiring my reflection in the mirror.
“Come on!” hissed York.
The cross-sector military had sentimental feelings about flags and banners, so they didn’t lightly discard them. I felt the same way about that silver torch emblem. It represented the 201 inhabited star systems of Alpha sector, symbolising the diplomatic creed that words were more powerful than weapons. I snatched the emblem from the jacket, thrusting it into a pocket of my overalls before dropping the jacket itself to the floor, and joined York outside the room.
We hurried down two more corridors, with the cleaning trolley still chasing us. I became aware of a stinging pain in my right hand, waved it in front of my face, and saw a trickle of blood. Had that happened when the sniper’s bullet smashed the window of the negotiating chamber and killed the Chief Negotiator, or had I managed to cut myself on the flat, sharp edge of my own diplomatic badge?
My attention on my hand, I missed seeing York stop and collided with him. I saw that a group of uniformed, armed men were running towards us and tensed. York pulled me out of their way and the men ran on past, completely ignoring us.
I glanced after them. “You were right about cleaning staff being invisible.”
“Does your diplomatic training make it impossible for you to stop talking?” asked York.
I was carefully silent as I followed him to the end of the corridor, through some double doors, and up a staircase. The hovers on the cleaning trolley struggled with the steepness of the stairs, but it caught us up at the top. We went out through another door, which York closed before the trolley could follow us.
We were on the roof now. It was a featureless, flat expanse, except for a couple of turrets sticking up that might mark other staircases. I could hear frustrated thumps from the other side of the door, as the faithful trolley still kept trying to join us.
York made an exasperated noise, pulled the trolley’s control unit from his overall pocket, dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his heel. The thumps from the other side of the door abruptly stopped. I felt oddly sorry for the trolley, but was distracted by a huge bang. Smoke spiralled upwards from somewhere frighteningly nearby.
I gasped in panic. “What’s that?”
“That’s smoke,” said York. “I can’t see where it’s coming from, and I’m not going to peer over the edge of the roof and get myself shot trying to find out. We have to stay right where we are and wait to be picked up.”
There was a sound like thunder overhead. I looked up and saw the dark dust ring of a drop portal appear in the sky. A second later, something black shot through. Too bulky to be a fighter ship, I thought it was some sort of small transport.
The ship went into a high-speed turn before plunging vertically down to land neatly in front of us. York was dragging me forward even before the side of the ship slid open. As we tumbled inside, a female voice shouted, “Strap yourselves in fast. We’ve got incoming.”
York and I were in a heap, sprawled across two seats. York sat up, pushing me away from him and into the further seat. I was still trying to work out how to strap myself in when the side of the ship slid closed again.
York shouted next to my ear. “Go now!”
The ship shot forward and upwards, then banked sharply, throwing me against York on my left. He cursed, shoved me back into my seat, and tugged the straps of a harness down over my shoulders.
The straps tightened, holding me firmly in place as the ship made another series of rapid turns. The window to my right showed alternating images of sky and ground, and at one point we were definitely flying upside down. I slapped my right hand over my mouth, closed my eyes, and fought against being sick.
“Stop wasting time throwing us around the sky,” yelled York. “Use a drop portal to get us out of here.”
“I’d love to,” said the female voice, in a cheerful, conversational tone. “Unfortunately, you have to be flying in a straight line to use a drop portal, and there are two missiles chasing us. I’m Captain Nia Stone by the way.”
“I’m Diplomatic Aide Ramon,” I said, “and this is...”
York elbowed me painfully hard in the ribs. “Don’t distract the pilot when she’s evading missiles.”
“They’re depressingly outdated, basic missiles,” said Stone. “It would be easy to deal with one, but two gets a bit trickier when you’re trying to avoid harming civilians on the ground. I’m just trying to find a... That’ll do!”
I risked opening my eyes again. There were two empty seats in front of me. Beyond them, our pilot was sitting at the ship’s controls, an anonymous figure sealed inside her protective impact suit. The view through the curved window in front of her showed we were over the sea and flying straight at a cliff.
I gulped, staring at the cliff in horrified fascination as it grew larger and larger. I wanted to scream a warning but could only manage a squeak. I braced myself for death, but our ship jinked sideways and upwards at the last moment, skimming safely over the cliff top and soaring high up into the air. I heard two loud bangs from behind us.
“And the missiles have blown a big hole in the cliff,” said Stone cheerfully. “Now we can use a drop portal.”
An automated voice started counting down seconds. “Ten, nine, eight...” As it reached zero, a dark ring appeared in the sky directly ahead of us, and we went through the centre.
I watched in awe as the view through the pilot’s window changed from blue sky and green fields to the darkness of space. Then I realised the window on my right was showing the even more breathtaking sight of a planet viewed from orbital altitude. I twisted round in my seat to stare at the swirls of clouds and the blue of oceans.
I’d seen this type of image before on vids, but this was no recorded image. This was real. A planet hung there outside my window, much bigger than I’d expected, with the mind-shattering background of star-studded space behind it. Another thing that was startlingly real was the lack of gravity. My harness was stopping me from floating around, but my stomach was still queasy.
“That’s the inhabited continent of Hestia down there,” said York, in an accusing voice. “Why are we still in the Hestia star system, Stone? You were supposed to take us to safety.”
I tore my attention away from the spectacular view and looked anxiously at Stone. I saw her right hand move to tap the ship’s controls, and she spoke in formal tones.
“Retrieval One to Hestia Solar Array Command. Drop portal to orbit successfully completed. Heading back with two passengers.”
“Hestia Solar Array Command to Retrieval One,” said a different female voice. “Welcome home.”
“I asked you a question, Stone,” snapped York.
Stone turned her seat round towards us. She had the hood of her impact suit up and sealed, so her face was just a faint unreadable blur, but her voice sounded impatient.
“Things may be getting difficult on the planet surface of Hestia, but we’re perfectly safe up here. There are two fighter teams based at the Hestia solar array to make sure that neither of the local political factions can capture it and use the power beam as a weapon. The solar array has also had its own special interstellar passenger portal installed to make it completely independent of Hestia. Once we’re aboard the solar array, you can use that interstellar portal to reach Alpha Sector Interchange 2 and continue on to any destination you wish.”
Stone swung back to face her controls and the ship turned. I could see the Hestia solar array in front of us now, with its multiple spreading wings of solar panels, and the great glittering power beam heading down to the planet surface.
I relaxed back into my seat. I was safe now and would be back on my home world of Adonis within hours. I’d have to report the news of Chief Negotiator Kwame Ansah’s tragic death of course, and I’d probably be criticised for abandoning his body and running away. If there was another peace mission to Hestia, I wouldn’t be included.
That thought didn’t worry me. Hestia’s political conflicts had been going on for three decades already, and the murder of Kwame Ansah had convinced me there was no hope of any negotiator ever reconciling the two sides. The cycle of hatred would keep erupting into sporadic violence until the Parliament of Planets lost patience, authorised the cross-sector military to send in peacekeeping forces, and appointed some poor soul as Interim Governor to sort out the mess.
I never wanted to set foot on Hestia again, but the problem was that I’d struggle to find any other diplomatic posting. After this catastrophic start to my career, I’d be lucky to...
“Agh!” Pain blazed in my stomach as York’s left fist punched my harness release button with vicious force. I pitched forward in my seat, and York’s right arm snaked behind me, wrapped round my neck, and yanked me towards him.
“Turn back, Stone,” he said. “We aren’t going to the Hestia solar array.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. York’s right arm was crushing my windpipe, and my head was wrenched back at an angle that meant my neck was in danger of breaking. I tried grabbing York’s arm, pulling at it with both my hands, but it was like trying to shift a mountain. A wave of giddiness swept over me, and my hands lost their grip on York’s arm.
York laughed and eased the pressure on my neck a fraction, so I was able to gasp in enough air to cling to consciousness. I heard Stone give a heavy sigh.
“This is really inconvenient,” she said. “I’m supposed to be portalling over to Demeter with my husband in three hours’ time. It’s our wedding anniversary tomorrow, we’ve got forty-eight hour passes, and a suite booked at the Great Falls Hotel.”
“Turn back,” repeated York, “or I’ll cut Ramon’s diplomatic throat and stop him talking permanently.”
Cut my throat? I could see a faint reflection of us in the side window. Yes, York’s right hand was holding a viciously long knife. I’d been about to lash out, try to break his hold on me in the hope of getting at least one full breath of air, but now I daren’t move.
“I’ve turned away from the solar array,” said Stone. “I can’t put it directly behind us without sending us into Hestia’s atmosphere, but you can see the array is now to our left instead of ahead of us. You’ll also see that Hestia Solar Array Command has noticed my unscheduled course change and is launching the rest of my fighter team to investigate. I think I’d better tell them what’s happening.”
“Do that,” said York. “If those fighters come anywhere near us, then Ramon dies.”
“Retrieval One to Hestia Solar Array Command,” said Stone. “We have a hostage situation in progress. Please recall fighters.”
“Hestia Solar Array Command to Retrieval One. Situation understood. Recalling fighters and notifying Threat team. Set comms to open speaker mode and stand by for contact from designated negotiator.”
“Now what?” asked Stone, her voice back to a cheerful, conversational tone. “Do you want me to go into planetary orbit, or shall we try stopping and floating in space where we are?”
“You can stop,” said York.
“Could you slacken your grip on Ramon’s neck now?” added Stone. “Judging from the colour of his face and the way his eyes are bulging, he’s on the edge of suffocation. It’s not as if I can try a surprise attack on you when there’s a row of empty seats between us.”
I felt York’s arm move a fraction more. Not much, but the crucial amount I needed to breathe properly.
“Don’t try anything clever, Ramon,” he said, “and don’t start yapping at me.”
I wasn’t going to try anything clever. I wasn’t going to speak. I was too busy rejoicing over having air in my lungs again.
“Hestia Solar Array Command to Retrieval One,” said a new, male voice. “I’m Captain Mason Leveque, designated negotiator. Can we please begin by establishing the current situation and your desired resolution? I believe the hostage is Diplomatic Aide Ramon of the Alpha sector peace mission to Hestia.”
“That’s right,” said York, “and don’t make the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t kill him. I’ve been longing to cut his throat ever since I met him.”
“I accept that,” said Leveque. “Given our latest information from the planet surface, I estimate an 87 per cent probability that I’m speaking to the man known as Harbinger, who was recently disowned by the extremist wing of the Hestia Liberty Party after bombing a hospital.”
The man holding the knife at my throat gave a laugh. “Yes, I’m Harbinger. If you’ve seen my record, you’ll believe me when I say that I won’t hesitate to kill this gabby little diplomat.”
“I don’t doubt that,” said Leveque. “One of the few points of agreement between the two political factions of Hestia is that you’re a ruthless killer, guilty of multiple murders, and should face the death penalty. In fact, I believe you’ve just increased your murder count. I estimate a 98 per cent probability that you were the person who cut the throats of three guards at the peace talks venue, as well as firing the explosive bullet that killed Chief Negotiator Kwame Ansah.”
“The guards were irrelevant,” said Harbinger, “but I regretted having to kill Kwame Ansah. I’d no choice, though. With both sides hunting for me, I had to leave Hestia. I’d never have made it through Hestia Off-world to the interstellar portals without being spotted, so I had to trigger a diplomatic retrieval. I’d met Kwame Ansah on his visit to Hestia back in 2770; he was on
e of the few people who’ve ever truly impressed me, but I knew I’d no hope of fooling someone of his intelligence. A gullible diplomatic aide on his first assignment, on the other hand...”
I felt like screaming, being sick, or both. The moment York first appeared so conveniently I should have been suspicious, but everything had happened so quickly, not giving me time to think... The realisation that he’d shot Kwame Ansah took the whole situation a step further into nightmare.
I remembered how I’d trustingly followed Kwame Ansah’s killer round the peace talks venue. I’d allowed him to hide me in a cupboard so the genuine rescuers couldn’t find me. I’d even obediently disguised myself as a cleaner to walk unnoticed past peace venue guards. If I got my throat cut now, I deserved it for being so stupid.
“So you know who I am,” said Harbinger. “Now I want Stone to take me to Apollo. I know the Apollo star system is well inside the drop portal range of this ship. Once we arrive there, we’ll land at the tourist beach of Diamond Sands. I can then use a standard passenger portal to travel to a random destination. I’ll obviously have to take Ramon with me, but I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe.”
I didn’t believe that Harbinger would let me go alive. He’d cut my throat or strangle me, let my body drop to the floor, and walk away without a backward glance. I gnawed at my bottom lip. Suddenly my concerns about getting another diplomatic assignment didn’t seem such an issue.
“We’ll discuss the logistics of getting you to Apollo in a moment,” said Leveque. “Before we have that conversation, I need to make one thing about the situation very clear to you. There is an ancient logic puzzle, dating from when humanity only lived on Earth, so it involves three Earth species. A carnivore called a wolf. A herbivore called a goat. A plant called a cabbage.”
“Is there a point to this, or are you just talking for the pleasure of hearing your own voice?” asked Harbinger.
“There’s a very important point,” said Leveque. “A person is trying to keep all three species alive while transporting them to the other side of the river. The complicating factor is that given the chance, the wolf would eat the goat, and the goat would eat the cabbage. If you stop and think about it, I’m faced with a similar puzzle. I’m trying to keep Captain Stone, you, and Diplomatic Aide Ramon alive while transporting you to Apollo. The complicating factor is that given the chance, Captain Stone would kill you, and you would kill Ramon.”