Double Spiral War Trilogy

by Warren Norwood

  Henley hadn’t seen or heard much about Kinderman since then except a reference or two in the news journals noting that the once-famous poet had been jailed in cities on several planets for what was euphemistically called creating a public nuisance. “So, Kryki, what do you know-besides some bad poem? Anything that’s new and interesting?”

  “Everything is new and interesting, Henley – even poetry – to those who open their hearts to hear it.”

  Before Henley could reply, Kinderman waved his hand dramatically. “Now do not get flushy on me, my plate-headed old friend. However depraved and basically illiterate most members of your profession are, I have always respected you and the truth you fight so hard to reveal in those stories you tell. You really should have been a poet, you know. But anyway, that is why I have come to see you, old son.”

  “Me? You came to see me? To tell me I should have been a poet? You’ll have to give me a better reason than that or I’m going to run and hide.”

  Kinderman laughed, then looked around the restaurant and leaned over the table. “Would you hide,” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin, “if I told you that the puking Ukes have paid me to talk to you?”

  Henley was stunned. “They what?”

  “Has the war deafened you? I said, the pukin’ Ukes have paid me to find you and talk to you. I am a messenger, Henley, shot from the throat of the enemy like the burning light of a stellar laser, come here to share with you truths that other Tellers would kill their offspring for.”

  “Like what?” Henley asked. Skepticism had quickly replaced his shock, and he wondered what outrageous caper Kinderman had launched upon now.

  “Ah, I see you do not believe me, old son. Well, pay for that wretched mess you just consumed and take me somewhere where we can talk privately and drink a bitter liter and I will make of you a believer.”

  Half an hour later they were sitting in a privacy booth in one of the many bars within walking distance of Sondak Supreme Headquarters. After they received their drinks, Henley sealed the booth shut. When the green security light over their heads went on and indicated that the booth was soundproof, he said, “All right, Kryki, just what is all this nonsense about the Ukes sending you with some message for me.

  “I lied,” Kinderman said with a smile. “It was not the Ukes, exactly, but it has to do with the Ukes and Sondak and the new alien alliance and the whole damnable war.”

  Henley sighed and took a sip of his drink. “So spread it out for me.”

  Kinderman looked at the security light as though to reassure himself that the booth truly was sealed, then leaned forward, cupping his glass with both hands. “It is a long story, old son, one that does not bear retelling at this moment.”

  Henley was relieved to hear that.

  “However, what is important is that through the good offices of a friend of a friend, I have received a considerable addition to my cash reserves in return for passing this information on to a reliable Teller.”

  “Just tell me, Kryki. I don’t have the patience to play dance around the virgin’s thigh right now.”

  “Such vulgarity, Henley. I expected better from – all right. All right. Do not become angry with me. I will tell you as simply as I can. According to my source and benefactor, Drautzlab, the military weapons complex on Summer that –“

  “I’m familiar with Drautzlab. Go on.”

  “Very well. As I said, according to my source, last year Drautzlab produced a weapon unlike anything mankind has ever in its most horrible dreams conceived of, and that weapon, along with its creator, is now–“

  “What kind of weapon?”

  “A cataclysmic weapon, Henley. A star-buster.”

  “Damn! Are you sure?”

  “My source is sure. But if you want all the information, let me finish. That weapon is now in the hands of an Oinaise broker from Patros who will shortly be conducting an auction – festbid; he calls it – in order to sell the weapon and its creator to the highest bidder.”

  Henley whistled softly; then his natural skepticism stopped. “Why?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t he just sell it to the Ukes?”

  “Apparently he tried that and they cheated him, so he stole the weapon and its inventor back and thus the auction. And now,” Kinderman said before taking a deep drink of his liquor, “my source believes the alien alliance will also be bidding on this weapon.”

  “’Who’s your source?”

  “I cannot tell you that. Suffice it to say that he has contacts in many places-including the U.C.S.”

  “Then tell me why I’m supposed to believe you and what your mysterious source expects me to do with this information?” Kinderman smiled ruefully. “As to the first, only your knowledge that I have never lied to you, even when it would have been to my advantage.”

  “True enough,” Henley admitted.

  “As for what he expects you to do, why, that should be obvious. You are a Teller. He expects you to tell all of Sondak what I have just told you.”

  Henley laughed. “Your source must be a very naive person. Even if I could spread this on the newsnets, I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t matter, because I can’t.”

  “And why not, old son? Why can you not?”

  “Because, Kryki, I am back in the Service, and if I were to spread such a story –“

  “You are what?” Kinderman stared at Henley in disbelief. “Back in the Service. You let these civilian clothes fool you, Kryki. When I’m on duty I’m Chief Warrant Officer Henley, even to you, old friend. But on or off duty, I’m still in the Service.”

  “Of all the stupid, ignorant, obscene, senseless, totally revolting things I ever–“

  “Oh, shut up, Kryki. You’re already in trouble enough.”

  “Me? In trouble? How?”

  “Because I’m going to have to turn you over to someone who will make sure you don’t share this information of yours with anyone else.” Henley saw the look of disappointment on Kinderman’s face. “I’m sorry, Kryki, but it can’t be helped. If what you told me is true, the last thing we need is to have it become general knowledge throughout Sondak.”

  “But Henley…can you not see that the cause of peace--”

  “I see only a very clear danger, Kryki- you. Now, will you go with me voluntarily, or do I have to call for assistance?”

  “Where?” Kinderman asked after a long pause.

  “To see Admiral Gilbert,” Henley said quickly. “He’s my boss, and he’ll have to decide what’s to be done with you.”

  Kinderman sighed, and then stared straight at Henley. “You would call for help if I said no?”

  Henley nodded. “I’d have to.”

  “Very well, then. But I will tell you this, Henley Stanmorton – you shall one day regret this.”

  “I already do, Kryki. But it has to be this way.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Ayne counted the pieces of gorlet left for the third time. If Xindella did not return in the next few hours and replenish his supply, Ayne knew his withdrawal symptoms were going to become unbearable. He had meant to ration his supply more carefully, but there had been so much gorlet in the box when he started that he· was sure he would have enough. Now he was frightened about what would happen to him if Xindella did not return soon-very soon.

  His strongest urge was to gobble the seven pieces he had left and live with the consequences. Or die with them, he thought. Reluctantly, he withdrew only one piece then closed the box and placed it on the shelf over his worktable.

  As soon as the sweet dark gorlet was in his mouth, it started to dissolve. Ayne savored its chocolaty flavor until he realized he was sucking on his tongue for the last hints of taste. The gorlet eased the tension in his stomach but little else. Halfheartedly he cursed his addiction as he stared longingly at the box holding his remaining supply. Then, with a sense of determination he knew wouldn’t last, he forced his eyes away from the box and turned back to his project.

  Most of the engineering on the Drautzlab w
eapon was fairly easy for him to understand, especially when he recognized what Sjean was attempting to create in her assembly of the components. And it definitely was Sjean’s work he was looking at. The whole contraption had her imprint on it, from its compact basic design to its highly efficient wiring scheme. Ayne even thought he understood the functional areas as she had laid them out.

  Laid them out. He sighed. That was what he would like to do to her. That’s what he always wanted to do to her.

  With a quick shake of his head he again forced his attention back to the weapon. There was something beautiful about its asymmetrical design, but something puzzling, as well. Where was the detonator? Surely it couldn’t have been attached to the thin strand of cable that had been dangling from the weapon when Xindella picked it up. He rubbed his fingers on his temples as he tried to think, wishing again that he had sufficient gorlet.

  No the cable couldn’t be for a detonator. It had to lead to some kind of focusing device that would be far enough away from the body of the weapon to allow for some kind of parallax correction. But if that were so, where was the detonator?

  Could it be internal? Ayne had been hesitant to dig into the guts of the weapon afraid to disturb the inner workings before he understood the outer ones. “But now,” he said aloud, “we guess it is time to take chances.”

  Without thinking, he opened the gorlet box and popped three of them into his mouth. Only when the taste hit him did he realize what he had done.

  “Damn. We will suffer sooner than expected if –“

  “Why do you talk of suffering, Citizen?” Xindella’s voice asked from the overhead speaker.

  “Our friend and benefactor,” Ayne said in his most supplicating voice, “we despaired of your coming, as our gorlet is almost exhausted.”

  “Is the weapon ready for inspection?”

  “No. It needs much to be understood.

  “Ah” Xindella said mockingly, “then how can I give you more gorlet if you have not done your work?”

  “Is easy,” Ayne said, already starting to shake under the threat. “If our most gracious Xindella does not give us more gorlet, then our work will not get done at all while we go through agony of withdrawal. You’ll not be then ready for your festbid, and therefore cannot –“

  “Shut up. I will bring your gorlet- this time. But you damn well better figure out how that weapon works pretty soon, or you will pray for withdrawal as a relief from what I will do to you. Do you understand? Me, Citizen Wallen?”

  “We understand, Xindella, he said softly. “We understand.”

  7

  RASHA’KEAN WATCHING SILENTLY AS GENERAL SCHOPPER read the preliminary summary of her report. His repeated nodding at first was encouraging, but it stopped and was then followed by a slow, almost-rhythmic shaking. Consequently when he finally looked up at her with a frown on his face she was prepared for trouble. “Somethin’ wrong, sir?” ‘

  “Damned right there is, Ingrivia. To begin with, where in the name of Biery are we going to get all the ships for this plan of yours?”

  “Wherever we have to sir.”

  “That’s a space-poor answer,” he said as his frown deepened. “I’m afraid this report is totally unsatisfactory.”

  “But you’ve only read the summary,” Rasha’kean protested, sensing that this was going to be worse than she thought. “How can you Judge a report you ha’not read?”

  Schopper slowly shook his head again, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she saw a strange, indefinable sadness there and more than a little anger.

  “Please, sir, at least read my complete report before you condemn it.”

  “I don’t have to, Colonel. It’s obvious to me that you’ve rushed through this because of our agreement. Your summary makes it quite clear that this so-called plan of yours is ill conceived and poorly thought out. It won’t do at all. Now, what I want you to do is to start over with a different–“

  “No,” Rasha’kean said firmly as she rose from her chair. She refused to let Schopper bully her into further logistic work. He had asked for a planning report, and she had given it to him. “If you d’not like my report, sir, then you know my standin’ resignation offer.”

  For the first time since she had entered his office, Schopper smiled, but it was a smile without humor. “Sit down Colonel, and listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you.”

  Reluctantly, Rasha’kean sat down. She was angry again, but from the tone of his voice she knew Schopper was about to tell her something she did not want to hear.

  “Ingrivia, I’ve put up with as much of this resignation nonsense from you as I’m going to. From this moment on –“

  “It i’not nonsense, sir. I meant what I –“

  “As you were, Colonel,” Schopper said sternly. “Just shut up and listen to me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve talked to Admiral Gilbert and also to the Joint Chiefs about your case since you and I had our last discussion, and I’m going to lay it out for you as clearly as I can. Yes, it is true, you have the right to resign your commission if you should so choose. But under the Extreme Emergency War Powers Act of 3022, the Service has the right to recall you to active duty at your permanent rank, which I believe in your case is Co-Captain. You didn’t know that, did you, Ingrivia?”

  “No, sir.” Rasha’kean’s mind rebelled against what he was saying, but she dared not interrupt him again. She also dared not let herself believe him. If what he said was true, then she would be effectively stripped of all the leverage she had against him and the Service.

  “I thought not. Furthermore,” he continued, “the Service can recall you to a specific duty-under my command, for example, where you would be doing exactly what you’re doing now, but with three grades less rank. Is that what you want, Ingrivia?”

  “Of course not, sir,” she said, hearing the anger edging through her control, “but I’ll not be wantin’ to believe you, either…sir.”

  “I don’t give a spacejack’s damn what you want to believe. I’m telling you the way things stand. Now go rework this report. And make sure you do it right this time.”

  For a brief moment Rasha’kean did not move. She felt numb and cold, and angry, and stunned, wanting desperately to fight back, but not knowing how to do it. Schopper was right, of course. She had rushed through the report. She wanted to get her combat assignment. But all she had succeeded in doing was delaying that and angering Schopper.

  Slowly and deliberately, she stood up and saluted him.

  “Do it right, Ingrivia,” Schopper said with a casual return of her salute, “and I’ll keep my promise. I’ll get you that combat command you want so much. But you have to do your job here, first. Is that understood?”

  “Certainly, sir. I ken what you’re saying.”

  “Good. That’s all.”

  As quickly as she could, Rasha’kean left his office and headed for her own. She hardly saw the other people in the halls as she ducked into the stairwell and went down the two flights as fast as she could. When she came out of the stairwell on her floor, she almost bumped into Stanmorton – again.

  “Easy, Colonel,” he said, stepping aside so she could pass. “What’s your rush?”

  “Ca’not be talkin’ now, Chief,” she said, unwilling to meet his eyes as she moved past him.

  “We’re still scheduled for dinner tomorrow,” he said to her back, “Aren’t we?”

  “Yes,” she said over her shoulder, realizing that she had totally forgotten about that. “Pick me up at my quarters.”

  It was only when she got to her office and shut the door that she realized Stanmorton had been in civilian clothes and was accompanied by one of the strangest-looking people she had ever seen – a man in an ugly striped coat with orange paint in his beard. As swiftly as that trivial realization came, she dismissed it and turned on her research terminal.

  In less than a minute she had a copy of the E
xtreme Emergency War Powers Act of 3022 coming off her copier. The document was fairly short, but it took her over an hour to read and understand it-and then to acknowledge to herself that she was wasting time looking for exclusions that were not there. Finally, she tossed the copy onto her desk in anger and disgust.

  There were no exceptions for her or anyone else. The government could recall to active duty any previously commissioned officer it chose, regardless of current status, “for the good of the Services and Sondak,” the phrase in the act read.

  As much as she wanted to lash out at someone, she knew she had no one to blame but herself. If she’d done her background work before, she would have known about the act and could have saved the resignation threat until she was fully prepared to resign. Then she might have gotten away with it. But she had been so busy playing her game with Schopper that she had failed to gather all the facts necessary to protect herself.

  Now she was in a bind she could not get out of. It would be stupid to resign just to go through the process Schopper had threatened her with and end up back in this same office with two-hundred-plus credits less per chit to her account each pay period. That would be stupid, indeed. But she hated like everything giving up her only weapon against the bureaucracies of government and the Service just because of – She broke her thought with sudden laughter.

  What difference did it make? Schopper had promised her a combat command, had he not? All she had to do is what she should have done in the first place, and then she would be on her way.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  “Inspector, you look as tired as I feel,” Sjean said as they sat in chairs on opposite sides of Caugust’s office. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

  “I’ll be fine, Dr. Birkie, especially after I discuss the balance of this matter with Dr. Drautz.”

  “But I explained that he won’t be back for another five or six hours, Inspector. One of the Lakeside labs is running a series of experimental demonstrations they wanted him to observe, so you might as well get some rest.”

  “The Thrasher experiments,” Janette said.