“How come?”
“We had a…” Hamilton searched for the right word. “Disagreement when I was young. I wanted to join the Cadet Corp when I was fifteen. They wouldn’t hear of it. You see, my folks are quite well-off. They believed that I should stay at home and mind the family business. I thought otherwise.”
“What was the family business?”
“We have a small merchant fleet.” Hamilton explained.
“And you didn’t want to manage it?” Jones was incredulous.
Hamilton shook his head. “It would have been a desk job. I hate that kind of work.”
“You could have hired somebody to do it. Then sat back and raked in the profits.”
Hamilton shook his head again. “It’s a family thing. We don’t allow anybody to run it that isn’t born into our family.”
“So who is going to do it, if not you?”
“My sister is next oldest. I have a younger brother as well. He must be about twenty now.”
“So what happened, anyway?”
“I was very adamant about joining the Cadets. I ran away and joined them. I was turned out within the week and taken home. I suffered endless courses on business management for a year or so, absorbing little. If I don’t want to know something, it just doesn’t get learnt. Then, just before my seventeenth birthday, I ran off again, this time joining the Corp proper. I lied about my age and gave a false name. I survived basic training without discovery and was sent on my first mission. It was a difficult mission. One member died. I saved the other two personally.
“On my return, I was called before the Commander. They’d discovered my duplicity. I was given a thorough chewing out. I was then dismissed, placed under guard. I felt sure I was facing a court martial and dismissal. I was right.”
“How did it go?” Jones inquired.
“I was resigned to a dishonourable discharge. However, the mission report mentioned my heroism. My defence was conducted elegantly, to say the least, by a fellow Corp member. My family were present, confident that I would soon be back amongst them and that, though I would soon be eighteen, I would not be allowed to join the Corp.”
“And?” Jones prompted.
Hamilton chuckled. “The Corp could not ignore my deceit, yet were thankful for my saving of two lives. They gave me an honourable discharge with the recommendation that I be allowed to rejoin when I was old enough, if I wished. They even awarded me a medal for my heroism. My family were livid, but there was little they could do against an Imperial institution like the Corp. We all went home in silence. Later, they told me that if I joined the Corp when I was eighteen they would remove me from the family will. I would no longer be considered one of the family. I’d be disinherited.”
“You’re kidding?” Jones said. “They can’t do that.”
“Unfortunately, they could. A peculiarity of our local laws. On the day I came of age, I packed my bags and left, joining the Corp. I never went back.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
Hamilton shook his head. “At first, but they would never take my calls. I tried to contact my kid brother once, but as soon as they realised who it was, they cut the line. After that I never tried again, until last night. Apparently there’s been an earthquake there. A pretty serious one, too. All I could find out was that they’re not among the casualties.”
“That’s something, at least.” Jones agreed.
“I travelled on one of their ships once, as well. From what the crew said, I gathered that my sister runs the company. My brother appears to be leading the life of a rich kid.”
“All play and no work, huh?” Jones muttered.
Hamilton nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”
“You should go back, sometime.” Jones advised. “People don’t hold grudges forever.”
Hamilton smiled. “My family does.”
They continued to drink in a companionable silence for some time, each lost in his own thoughts. After a while, Jones asked. “What’s space travel like?”
Hamilton looked at him in surprise. “You mean you’ve never been in space before?”
“Once, I think, when my folks emigrated here. But I was too young to remember.”
Hamilton chuckled. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have eaten such a large meal.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Hamilton shrugged. “It affects different people in different ways. You’ll be OK once we get onto the main ship. Artificial gravity you understand. But the trip up is the worst. Bone crunching acceleration and stomach churning aerobatics isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.”
Jones looked very worried.
Hamilton burst out laughing. “I’m just pulling your chain. These days it’s no worse than flying in a jet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. I’ve travelled like that a hundred times at least. Also, you can bet Vogerian’ll have the safest, most comfortable transport available.”
“That’s true.” Jones agreed. “He’d want to travel in comfort.”
“So there’s nothing to worry about.” Hamilton told him, smiling.
“Who’s worrying?” Jones said.
“Of course,” Hamilton noted. “There are always accidents.”
“Shut up!” Jones scowled.
They were all set to order another round of drinks when Carl entered. He walked over to them. “Mr Vogerian is preparing to leave. We’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes.” Then he turned and left before the pair could ask him anything.
“Talkative fellow.” Jones observed.
“Just remember, he’s been on Vogerian’s payroll for a long time.” Hamilton said.
“I’m not likely to forget.”
They finished their drinks and collected any gear they had to. In less than five minutes they were waiting in the lobby. Hamilton had attempted to pay his bill, but had been told that “Mr Vogerian has taken care of everything.” His InterDyne card was cleared by the clerk.
The pair sat on the leather seating in the lobby.
“Stop fidgeting.” Hamilton told Jones.
“I’m nervous, man. I’m about to blast off into outer space with a dude who is planning something nasty for me.”
“You’ll be alright.”
“That’s what you say.”
“Think of the rewards.”
“I wish you’d stop saying that.” Jones calmed down a little.
“Does it help?”
“Yeah, a little.”
Hamilton chuckled. “Then I’ll keep saying it.”
Shortly, Vogerian arrived. Carl was right behind him, toiling with various cases and bags.
“I’m glad to see you gentlemen are punctual.” Vogerian said. “I’m also glad to meet you, Mr Jones. Mr Hamilton has told me you are the best.”
Jones shook his hand nervously. “I try my best, sir.”
“That’s all anyone can ask of another.” Vogerian agreed. “Shall we go?”
The quartet filed out of the hotel without further ado. A plush, modern groundcar was waiting. They piled in after stowing their bags.
The trip to the port was uneventful. Vogerian made idle chit-chat, designed to put them at ease. Jones seemed to calm down a little more. Hamilton appeared calm anyway, but was on a high state of alertness. Carl appeared his usual, implacable, self.
At the port the usual customs formalities were ignored. They were shown straight through without even a cursory glance at their bags. Then it was on to the landing field.
Their ship was, Hamilton noted with some surprise, a standard Corp launch. He had ridden in them throughout his career in the Corp, so knew what to expect. It seemed that Vogerian was prepared to ‘rough it’ a little on this trip. He glanced over at Jones, but the man wouldn’t know one shuttle from another.
This particular launch had seen better days. From the dossiers, Hamilton recognized the man standing at the boarding ramp. It was David Walsh, the survey team member who had been one of the f
irst to discover the Humal craft. He moved forward as the quartet approached and greeted them.
“Good to see you again so soon, sir.” he said to Vogerian. “Everything’s ready for departure just as soon as you’re aboard.”
“Excellent!” Vogerian smiled. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
He introduced Hamilton and Jones briefly. The three exchanged nods. Apparently, Walsh already knew Carl.
They went up the ramp and into the launch. Jones was a little upset at the Spartan interior. He squeezed down the cramped aisle, dragging his bag. Hamilton took the seat opposite him, determined not to miss his reactions.
Vogerian and Carl seated themselves forward. The small launch only had six passenger seats. There were a further two seats forward of these but they were for pilot and navigator. As often happened, it appeared there was to be only one flight officer on this trip; Walsh.
He went back along the aisle, checking that everyone’s baggage was stowed safely, then went and made certain the hatch was secured. The hum of the boarding ramp retracting soundly loudly as Walsh made his way to the cockpit.
He seemed competent enough, Hamilton thought. On the other hand, he was already in Vogerian’s employment, as were the other two survey team members, Lewis and LeGault. That in itself was odd, he thought. Normal minimum for exploratory teams was four. Hamilton made a note to inquire about that.
Walsh had reached the cockpit and was going through a final systems check. It was obvious he had already gone through it thoroughly before they had boarded.
“Are you sure this thing is safe?” Jones muttered from across the aisle.
Hamilton nodded. “Perfectly. Just relax and try not to think of how fast you’re going.”
Jones was silent for a moment, then, “How fast are we going?”
Hamilton tried not to smile. “Oh, we’ll reach escape velocity eventually.”
Jones nodded. “Yeah, I guess. How fast is that, anyhow?”
Hamilton shrugged. “I never was very good at figures,” he said, deliberately vaguely. “Some miles per second. Probably ten or twenty. I don’t know. Something like that.”
“Ten or twenty?” Jones said.
Hamilton nodded.
“Miles per second?”
Hamilton nodded again.
Jones groaned and closed his eyes. “It’s Divine retribution for my sins. It’s just gotta be.”
The thrum of the engines igniting shook the small launch heavily. Jones was muttering under his breath by the time the craft lifted from the field. It tilted upward at what was, to Jones at least, an alarming angle and accelerated hard. It was hardly the bone crunching acceleration that Hamilton had joked about, but it was definitely a good idea to keep in your seat.
Jones bore it all silently, save for some mutterings through clenched teeth. His knuckles were white against the seat’s arm rests.
After several minutes of such acceleration the engines cut out and they were able to speak to each other.
Hamilton had borne the ride in a calmly relaxed state.
Jones was sweating profusely. His eyes opened uncertainly as the crushing weight vanished from his body.
Hamilton glanced forward at Vogerian and Carl.
The old man glanced back and Hamilton saw that he was pale and shaky. He was not in any condition for this sort of activity, Hamilton decided.
Carl leant across the aisle to check on his boss. Hamilton noted that he seemed unaffected by the short ordeal. But then, he was an Enjun. Vogerian waved his ministrations away and relaxed back against the seat after flashing a wavering grin at Hamilton, who nodded back.
“That wasn’t so bad.” Jones said, as if trying to convince himself.
“I told you it would be OK.” Hamilton affirmed.
“I don’t how I could have ever doubted you.” Jones said, drily.
“Me neither.” Hamilton agreed, beginning to smile. “Of course, going up is the easy part. On the way down…”
“Shut up!” Jones interrupted. “I don’t want to hear about it!”
“Just trying to prepare you.” Hamilton said, mildly.
“I don’t need your preparations. They’re bad for my health.”
“You’ll regret scorning my advice.” Hamilton prophesied.
Jones snorted. “I doubt that. The only thing I regret is breaking down outside the terminal!”
The launch manoeuvred for perhaps half an hour to an hour before the clunk of a successful docking was felt throughout the little craft. After a few minutes more, Walsh came aft and said. “We can go aboard now.”
The four got to their feet and followed him to the hatch.
Walsh cycled the lock and then the hatch hissed open.
Hamilton and the rest trooped out, following Walsh. He led them through a short connecting passage and into the main ship.
CHAPTER SIX
The main ship, as Hamilton had surmised, turned out to be a survey team explorer. It didn’t have a name. Few survey ships did have an official name, just a number. This one was numbered SVIII63. In other words, Survey Vessel Mark Three number sixty three. Crews often had their own pet names for ships but, due to the inevitable plethora of malfunctions which cursed them, most such names were rarely repeatable outside the ship.
The fact that this was a Mark Three vessel surprised Hamilton a little. Most survey craft were Mark Two’s. Hamilton had only ever been on a Mark Three once before, on his last mission for the Corp. They were the latest in long range explorers. At least, they used to be. The Mark Four was under test even now, though its reliability was unlikely to have been improved over its ancestors. Furthermore, Mark Three ships were designed for a large complement of men. The reason for this soon became obvious.
Hamilton had assumed that the other members of the expedition would already be aboard Vogerian’s new ship. It soon transpired, however, that the mission crew were all aboard this vessel.
Hamilton was beginning to have second thoughts about this entire project. Vogerian was keeping back too much information. For now, Hamilton merely looked unconcerned.
Jones gave him some uncertain looks, but said nothing.
Vogerian took charge at once, assembling everyone in the modest crew lounge.
There, Hamilton and Jones got their first look at their crewmates. They were an average looking bunch, Hamilton decided as he and Jones were introduced, with no unscrupulous looking characters amongst them. He still believed that at least one of them would be in on Vogerian’s plot, whatever it was. Hamilton made an effort to shake everybody’s hand, regardless of sex or whether they offered their hand or not. He believed a handshake could tell you a lot about a person. Unfortunately, he learned little from the experience except that many people had sweaty palms.
Jones confined himself to nods and “hellos”. He did, however, watch carefully for everyone’s reaction to Hamilton’s handshaking. None of them seemed nervous. He shrugged mentally. He wasn’t good at reading people, anyway.
After the introductions were completed, Vogerian detailed Tong to show Hamilton and Jones their cabin.
In typical Corp fashion it was a four man affair composed of pitifully inadequate bunks. They were to share it with Tong himself and, when she arrived, with Klane.
Tong, who was of oriental origin, offered to show them the rest of the ship. Hamilton and Jones declined the offer. Hamilton declined because he had seen plenty of ships just like this one and Jones because Hamilton had declined.
Tong shrugged and left to see if he was needed in engineering.
“What do you think?” Jones asked, once they were alone.
Hamilton shrugged. “They seem like a normal bunch. I didn’t sense any nervousness on the part of any of them.”
“Me neither.” Jones agreed.
“On the other hand, they can’t all be what they seem.”
Jones nodded. “That’s a safe bet. I didn’t expect to have to share with anybody, though.”
Hamilton shrug
ged again. It was his favourite gesture. “That’s calculated.” he said.
“How do you mean?” Jones frowned.
“Calculated.” Hamilton repeated. “Vogerian knows that we’ll be nosing around. Having a stranger in the room will keep us from speculating and discussing things too much.”
“I suppose so.”
“Anyway, let’s get out and about and meet people.”
Over the next five days, the pair did their best to mingle with their crewmates.
Everyone seemed quite normal. The only incident of note occurred when Jones was attempting to make light talk with Liz Lewis.
She had ignored him for about five minutes when, finally, his patience had given out. He made a light remark about her lack of volubility. She had turned on him viciously, screaming out some very un-lady-like expletives. Jones had backed off quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid a swift kick to the groin. Lewis would have continued to attack but LeGault had restrained her long enough for Jones to hobble away.
Hamilton had immediately questioned her about the incident, but she was sullenly silent, glaring at him throughout the questioning. Hamilton had finally warned her to restrain herself. She had silently sneered at him.
Hamilton reported the incident to Vogerian, who could have hardly failed to hear about it anyway. The old man nodded thoughtfully and advised Hamilton to keep an eye on her. Hamilton didn’t need him to know that.
Afterwards, Jones and Lewis avoided each other like the plague. At meals, in the mess room, they refused to acknowledge each others’ presence. Hamilton was treated similarly, though she tended to glare at him with hatred.
During the five days, the ship left orbit, headed for deep space and jumped from the system. It was heading for the rendezvous with Klane, who, once they arrived, would have been waiting around for two days. She didn’t like waiting, Hamilton recalled. Her patience was limited. She wouldn’t be in the best of moods when they arrived to pick her up.
The jump into hyperspace went smoothly enough, though not without incident. It had an odd effect on one of the crew.
Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 9