And then, abruptly, a starship loomed in front of him—huge, filling his viewscreen, an ominously strange shape unlike any ship he had ever seen.
Incredibly, he had intercepted it precisely, despite having had no way of predicting the direction in which to fly. Was he dreaming this, Terry wondered, or had unconscious remote viewing led him to it . . . or, perhaps, had the other ship been simultaneously seeking him? It was much larger than Skywalker, larger even than Promise, and undoubtedly faster. Its sensors could have tracked his trajectory. The crew, whatever their mission, probably wouldn’t want their presence to become known.
He had not expected anything like this. No one had thought there could ever be an intruder significantly bigger than an explorer, for the mere existence of a privately-owned starship large enough to hold more than twelve people was in itself illegal. In the years since formation of the League, Fleet had not needed to enforce its monopoly. An illegally-sized ship would have been detected during construction, or at the very least if it tried to unload cargo anywhere, so nobody had attempted to build one—and of course, undercover League conspirators could not use a Fleet ship. How had the owners of this monster managed to conceal it?
Steadying himself, Terry decided to proceed with his original plan for warning them off; it wasn’t his job to deal with prior violations of League law. Setting the comm to broadcast on all frequencies, he declared, “Unidentified ship, this is FIS Skywalker. This entire system has been placed off-limits by Fleet, as maneuvers are underway here. You are required to jump at your earliest opportunity. Over.”
There was no response, though it was impossible that they hadn’t heard. Terry turned on the comm’s vid so that they could see him and repeated the hail: “Unidentified ship, this is Lieutenant Commander Terry Radnor, captain of FIS Skywalker. You are in off-limits territory and you must depart immediately. Know that there is a cruiser present in this system that will enforce compliance. Please acknowledge, over.” They had no choice but to obey; even a ship of this size would be no match for an armed cruiser.
The comm remained silent, its vidscreen blank; but the ship moved closer, almost as if they planned to rendezvous. Terry had no intention of doing so; while they surely would not blast him out of the sky without provocation, they might well take him prisoner if they could induce him to board—and he had had enough of being held captive by outlaws. What their ostensible aim might be in coming to this outlying solar system was hard to imagine; they couldn’t claim to be pirates here, nor could they masquerade as smugglers since they couldn’t show themselves to sell any resources they might acquire—unless perhaps they planned to transfer cargo to smaller starships instead of approaching inhabited planets. Terry turned cold, for that made sense, now that he thought of it. A really large smuggling ring, controlled by the underworld, might be able to function that way. But in that case . . . maybe they would blast Skywalker. They would have a credible reason for getting rid of a pilot who knew more than their underworld bosses wanted known.
And if by chance they hadn’t been warned about the cruiser, now that he’d revealed its presence they would investigate all the planets of the system, hoping to take it by surprise. While they couldn’t win in an open fight, they could do a good deal of damage by a sneak attack. Expecting no trouble, the officers aboard Shepard would not be armed; the satellite alert wouldn’t reveal the size of the intruder—they would send patrollers to meet it assuming that it would be easy to capture. If it carried high-yield weapons. . . .
Oh, God, Terry thought. Why had he again let the excitement of remote viewing override his common sense? Just as he had ignored normal caution when he entered the cave, he had rushed blindly into a situation in which he might be trapped. And yet . . . the cave experience had proved fortunate in the long run. Tristan had seemed to feel he had been guided by some mysterious inner impulse that had meaning. Might such an impulse account for his rashness this time, too? He alone now knew what Shepard could not foresee. Had precognition led him here to warn them? He must call even before learning the ship’s identity; switching the comm to Fleet’s frequency he started to do so . . . only to find that the comm panel was dead.
Dead! No power seemed to be reaching it. This could hardly be a coincidence, but what technology of theirs could kill just one power circuit within his ship? An EMP would have taken out everything.
The starship was still approaching, and it was even larger than he had thought because he had first seen it at a greater distance than he’d realized. It seemed headed to collide with Skywalker—maybe they meant to ram him! Frantically Terry reached for the AI console, attempting to change course. The override switch had no effect, and in horror he perceived that the other ship wasn’t moving after all; Skywalker was being inexorably drawn toward it. A tractor beam? Such things existed in fiction, but not, as far as he knew, in real life. His instruments showed that the AI was fully operative; it was executing maneuvers leading not to a collision, but to a normal docking. Somehow they had taken remote control of his ship.
Where would anyone have obtained technology that could do that? If it was available, pirates would be using it, and he’d heard no reports in Fleet that any were. For a moment he wondered if Fleet was testing some secret new development, just as they were testing Skywalker, which would also account for the unprecedented design of the starship. But since it involved a crew other than Shepard’s they wouldn’t have picked Maclairn’s solar system to do it in, not when there was a bigger secret here to protect. And in any case Admiral Frazer, knowing of his plan for patrolling, would have told him.
He sat helplessly watching the viewscreen as, directly in front of him, a port opened in the starship and Skywalker was drawn through. There was no prospect of escape, now or ever, with his ship in their hands—the conspirators could not demand ransom for him without saying where and how he had been captured.
“Commander Radnor, please forgive our presumption in bringing you aboard in this way,” said a voice on the now-reanimated comm. It had an unusual pitch and he could not tell whether it was a man’s or a woman’s; perhaps it was synthesized. “You and your crew will be escorted to a place where you will be made comfortable.”
The inner hatch opened without action on Terry’s part; they were evidently in control of his airlock. A suited figure appeared, motioning him to put on his own suit and helmet; the docking bay must be unpressurized. He was led through the other ship’s main airlock and then, astonishingly, through a second airlock into a compartment furnished with an odd-looking couch and two circular chairs. Nothing more was said to him; his guard, still wearing a helmet, soon left him alone.
Terry got out of his spacesuit, thankful that he had worn his uniform, rumpled though it now was. He hoped he could manage to maintain some dignity, despite the humiliation of having been taken without opportunity to resist.
~ 43 ~
The room’s airlock cycled and a different, shorter guard entered, wearing clothes that completely covered him—or her, for again Terry could not tell whether it was a man or a woman. Loose-fitting tunic, trousers, and long gloves, all white, plus a headscarf and face mask that revealed only the eyes. That was a good sign; if they took the trouble to make themselves unrecognizable it might mean they planned to let him go.
“Good evening, Commander Radnor,” his captor said in the same peculiar voice he had heard over the comm. “My name is Laesara, and while aboard you will communicate only with me. I see you wear a Fleet uniform and that puzzles me, as your ship is not one of Fleet’s.”
It sounded like a feminine name so he decided this was a woman. “I am a Lieutenant Commander in Fleet,” he stated. “My ship is a new model recently carried in for testing.”
To his surprise he sensed dismay in her, almost as if she had made some terrible blunder. With even greater surprise he realized that she was telepathic, though she was intentionally concealing most of her mind. She spoke slowly and rather formally; Anglo did not appear to be her native language, and
he was perceiving some of what she said before he heard her words.
“What were you doing here alone, such a long way out from Maclairn?
Terry’s heart lurched. They knew about Maclairn! That confirmed that they were hired spies, since its name had been revealed only to the Foundation observers and a few high League officials—but how could opponents of Maclairn have hired a telepath? Where could they have found one? Mustering as much composure as he could, he declared, “I was patrolling to warn ships away. Fleet has placed this solar system off-limits because of the tests we are conducting here. You should have left while you had the chance; since you’re already aware of Maclairn you will be taken into custody.” Thank God they had ignored his warning—since they might have contacts who knew less than they did, they couldn’t be allowed to leave. He must think of some tactic to stall them until he could find a way to contact Shepard.
“There has been a mistake,” Laesara said, seeming genuinely regretful. “We do not show ourselves to the Fleet ships.”
“I imagine not,” said Terry dryly, “considering that yours is illegal.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “I can tell that you are psi-gifted, Terry Radnor,” she said, “and that you have had training. It can hardly be by chance that you were patrolling so close to us. Yet we had not thought anyone in Fleet was as capable of remote viewing as Maclairn’s natives.”
“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” he declared, dismayed by the confirmation that they were aware not only of Maclairn’s existence, but of its people’s psi powers.
“So it seems,” she agreed. “But it would be to your advantage for us to know it, Terry, if you are what you say you are.” Incredibly, she continued, “We have no wish to treat an innocent person as we would someone who meant harm to Maclairn.”
“I have nothing to hide on that score. My job is to guard it from harm.”
“Will you allow me to probe your mind, then? I am unwilling to do so by force, which would be unethical. But I am not sure just what we should do with you, and it will help if I can evaluate your background.”
Terry saw no reason to refuse. She appeared to have more psi ability than he did and could probably sense much of what he was thinking in any case; he had not yet been taught how to conceal thoughts that were backed by emotion. As to Maclairn’s secret, she evidently already knew enough to make resistance pointless, regardless of how she had obtained it.
“Sit down, Terry,” Laesara instructed, “and relax as you would for mind training. I will not hurt you, but it may be frightening; the mentors use less powerful techniques than mine.”
He did not like to think how the people aboard this ship had gained knowledge of mentors’ techniques. Had some of those on Earth been seized in the short time since he and Kathryn had left? They would have died rather than submit to examination by outsiders not already aware of their capabilities—had they been forced by captors with greater powers than their own, captors less concerned about ethics than this strange woman who he sensed was sincere? Despairingly he sat back in one of the circular chairs, thinking that if the secret was out, if it had gone beyond the small group of opponents who were as eager to keep it from the public as Maclairn was, then all that had been accomplished toward gradual acceptance of psi had been futile.
And then Laesara’s mind touched his and it was like Jessica’s probe in the Ritual, but even more overwhelming. All that he had ever thought, or done, or hoped for was being drawn from him; his whole life surged into memory, from his childhood on Earth to his hacking days, his training in Fleet, the years of exploring space . . . Aldren . . . Tristan . . . Promise . . . Jessica’s fears . . . and above all, Kathryn. Kathryn, and his unborn son. God, she would know soon that he was missing—she would be frantic . . . he had left without saying goodbye. He was not sure how or when he could get back to her, and he did not know how he could ever keep the pledges he had made as a Steward of the Flame. He saw the flame before him now, as it had been last night, but now it was about to consume him. He cried out in agony, not physical pain, but the anguish of finding himself engulfed by more emotion than he could bear. . . .
“Terry!” Laesara grasped his hand, and he knew she had perceived his entire life history, up to and including the Ritual . . . oh God, the secret of the Ritual that he had sworn never to reveal . . .
“I am sorry, Terry,” she said gently. “You are more fully aware of telepathy than I expected you to be—with most of your people the probe would have remained beneath the level of consciousness.” And silently, reflectively: I am sorry for more than that, because you have acted bravely in defense of Maclairn and you do not deserve the fate in store for you.
He was too dazed to respond. “Rest now,” she said. “You have had two major shocks since you last slept, and more are ahead. I must consult my colleagues about what is to be done.”
Alone again, Terry gradually regained control of himself. Somehow he must devise a way to let Maclairn know of the threat. His inner compulsion to come here had been purposeful—he had to believe that, or what good had all the mind training and preparation done?
These people were not spies or smugglers. Now that he had time to think, he realized that there was just one thing they could be: members of another secret group with psi capability. It was not improbable that there had been a second, independent discovery of the mind powers Ian Maclairn had developed; after all, if they were indeed the next step in human evolution, they might well have been discovered simultaneously on more than one world. The League had not known about Maclairn until recently, and still wouldn’t know about any similar groups that might exist elsewhere.
But this group had technology far in advance of Maclairn’s. It could not be just a small settlement on an isolated world. One way or another it had acquired enough power to build and operate a gigantic starship without being detected, and had learned not merely that Maclairn existed, but its location—something neither the League officials nor the mentors on Earth knew in terms of star charts. What were its people doing, lurking near Maclairn? Were they hoping to make peaceful contact without being turned back by Fleet—or were they planning an attack? There was no reason to think their motives were as benevolent as those of the Maclairnans, who were making great sacrifices to offer new capabilities to humankind. They might well want to maintain a monopoly on psi and use it to dominate the League.
He must contact Fleet, or else the mentors. There was no chance he would get anywhere near the comm room of this ship, much less of his own, considering that he was confined in the compartment not merely by a door, but by an airlock. Was there a remote chance that telepathy could reach far enough? Corwin had said it might. Jessica had long sensed that something was out here, something she’d hoped he could find, and if she was aware that he was missing she’d be alert to any sign of his whereabouts. Terry closed his eyes and threw all the force he could muster into a desperate call. Jessica . . . Jessica . . . hear me! You were right! There’s a huge starship, Fleet must be warned. . . . Over and over, until he was dizzy and exhausted—Jessica! Jessica . . . Tristan . . . Kathryn. . . . Surely Kathryn could sense his mind-touch—their bond was unbreakable, even though she wasn’t especially psi-gifted. Oh, God, Kathryn . . . hear me, please hear even if you can’t answer. . . .
The airlock cycled again. He looked up and Laesara was standing near him, the grey eyes in her masked face displaying evident sympathy. “They cannot hear you,” she said. “Their psi power is not yet sufficient to cross that distance, nor is yours.”
Since there was no denying that, he didn’t answer.
“Fate has taken a tragic turn,” she said sadly, sitting down in the chair beside his. “We both had the same aim—to warn intruders away from Maclairn. What you and Jessica sensed in the past was not precognition; we have been here all along. You sought us because you believed us to be an interloper, and when our instruments detected your unknown ship, we believed the same of you and pursued you.
If we had known you were from Fleet we would not have shown ourselves. We did so thinking it was safe—an explorer or smuggler would have assumed our starship belonged to Fleet and would have heeded any warning we issued. By the time we heard your hail and knew you would not, it was too late. You had seen us.”
“Did you expect we would never see you until you invaded us?” Terry demanded. “When you say you aim to warn away intruders, I assume you mean ships that might interfere with your taking over Maclairn. So you are not all-powerful. If you should succeed in defeating Shepard, other ships will come.”
“Oh, Terry. We mean no harm to Shepard, any more than to Maclairn itself. We are not going to take it over. Our existence must never be known. But since there is a remote chance that Fleet might fail to keep all other ships away, we are stationed here as backup, to guard it with superior technology, because Maclairn is far more important in the scheme of things than you know.”
“I don’t understand,” he protested. “If you’re our allies, why conceal yourselves from us?”
She hesitated. “We have decided to tell you the truth, Terry Radnor. It might be better not to, since it will put you in the extraordinary position of knowing a secret with which no one else among your people has ever been burdened. Yet having judged you, I believe you would prefer that to facing your fate in ignorance.”
An extraordinary position . . . an extraordinary destiny, then? Terry’s heart beat faster. Aldren’s precognition had been real. . . .
Laesara had picked up the thought. Aldren foresaw that your life would be extraordinary? Oh, they are as advanced as we have hoped they would be, the mentors . . . but you have misinterpreted his vision, and I must now set you straight, painful though it will be for us both.
“There is no way to say this but the direct way,” she told him. “We are not what you think we are. You are the first of your race to experience what millions have longed to experience throughout many centuries of the past, for you are in open contact with people you would call aliens.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 27