He would not see the other landmarks, Four and Corwin, as they were presently on the other side of the sun—which meant their sensor stations would not detect Venture. Maclairn was next in line; naturally he had set his course for it. All of a sudden he was struck by the realization that he had not asked the two men where in this solar system they wanted to go. He had been so eager to see Maclairn that he’d given no thought to what their purpose here might be.
What was he thinking of, heading straight for Maclairn with passengers he knew to be evildoers? They couldn’t be going there intentionally, of course; they could not possibly know it by name or be aware of the colony’s presence. Nobody knew unless the secret had escaped during his absence; and if it had, if knowledge of Maclairn had become public, Venture’s captain wouldn’t have said no worlds in the solar system were inhabited. And these men wouldn’t get away to tell anyone—the ship would be intercepted by Fleet and its occupants permanently confined to the surface, as all intruders were. It might be warned off first; he himself wouldn’t be recognized and, he realized with some nervousness, he would have to defy the warning and would perhaps be fired upon. But Fleet wouldn’t shoot to kill; Venture would simply be captured, and he could straighten out his own status afterward.
Nevertheless, fully awake and clearheaded now, he knew he ought not to take outsiders to Maclairn at all. He ought not to have come to its star in the first place; he should have gone somewhere else even if they killed him for disobeying them. He was breaking his oath never to reveal that it existed.
What did they want in this solar system? To them, it was an uninhabited one. Unless . . . oh, my God, Terry thought. A few people did know about Maclairn. Its enemies at League headquarters, the ones who had arranged the killing of Corwin and Arthur Bramfield, knew its location. That was the underlying reason for the early warning system he had helped to deploy, the reason why he’d been trained in remote viewing. How could he have been so absorbed in his desire to return that he’d not thought about that?
These men were almost surely hostile. Still, Terry reflected, what harm could they do? There were only two of them, and they couldn’t be armed with anything larger than sidearms. They were spies, most likely, who had come to see whether the League had been told the whole truth about the Maclairnans’ capabilities. Evidently they were unaware that Fleet would not let them leave—but it wouldn’t, so no information could reach their backers. And no damage would be done if it did, since whoever had sent them must already know that Maclairn existed.
He should not have come, but he was here now, and to go away forever when he was this close to Maclairn was too much for fate to ask of him, considering that two captured spies could do no harm.
When the men emerged from their staterooms they asked, as Terry had expected, how long it would take to reach the second planet from the sun. He told them, noticing that they seemed even more nervous than they had been before. “Will you want to land on it?” he asked.
“Yes,” said the one called Rafe. “We’ll take the shuttle down ourselves.”
No, you won’t, Terry thought. We’ll be intercepted first. It was odd, he thought, that they hadn’t mentioned before that they were shuttle pilots—not even to Venture’s original captain.
“We won’t be needing you once we arrive,” Yuri said. “We needed you only for the interstellar jump. Keep that in mind if you have any thoughts about interfering with us.”
“You also need me to jump back,” Terry pointed out.
“Maybe. And maybe we’ve made other arrangements—”
“What the hell, Yuri!” Rafe burst out irritably. “This guy hasn’t any reason to cross us, and you’re giving him ideas. Shut up and focus on what we’re here for.”
The men were silent after that. But as time passed and he got closer and closer to Maclairn, Terry began to sense that something was very wrong.
He could feel the growing tension in the men even after he got back to the bridge; telepathically he sensed that for some reason they feared what was ahead. Why? They wouldn’t have come if they’d known the planet was guarded by a cruiser. . . .
But they should have known, Terry thought, suddenly chilled. If they had been sent by any of the League officials in on the secret, they would know about Fleet’s presence. Those officials were the ones who had authorized the cruiser’s deployment.
Was it possible that the authorization had been withdrawn? It had been more than twelve years, plenty of time for political reversals. Perhaps Shepard was no longer there. Perhaps Maclairn had been left vulnerable to discovery, or even attack, from outside.
All the same, two men with sidearms could not attack; the potential danger wasn’t immediate. He had only to make sure they couldn’t get away to make public what they had seen. He would disable Venture once they were in orbit, Terry decided. He thought of Ivana, who had disabled Picard for the same reason—but of course it wouldn’t require the drastic method she had used. He was alone on the bridge with no opposition; he could tear out the hyperdrive controls without melting them. Perhaps it would be enough to sabotage the AI portion, considering that Rafe and Yuri didn’t know how to jump anyway.
It was too late for him to reverse his decision to come here, though more and more he felt it had been an unwise one. They were too close to the sun now to jump out safely. And where would he have gone? What good would it have done to refuse to come, since if he had, they would simply have hired some other starship pilot? Perhaps, he thought, it was a good thing that he’d acted impulsively, his longing for Maclairn overriding both his vow of secrecy and his common sense, because nobody else would have taken precautions to prevent their leaving.
All at once the comm lit up and with a gulp of relief Terry heard, “Unidentified ship, this is Patrol Leader Alpha from FHS Shepard. This solar system is off limits, Fleet is conducting maneuvers here. You are instructed to retreat to a safe distance and jump immediately, over.”
Thank God, he thought. Shepard was still here after all. He would not have to worry about the men escaping, though he might well be in trouble himself until he could make contact with someone who knew him. He did not acknowledge the call, as there was nothing he could say.
“Unidentified ship, please respond. You must leave this solar system at once. Over.” On the viewscreen Terry saw three patrollers closing in.
The bridge hatch burst open and Rafe appeared. He was holding a laser pistol. “Tell them we’re in distress,” he ordered. He didn’t seem surprised by the patrollers’ appearance.
If they had known they’d be met by Fleet, what had they hoped to accomplish? Terry sensed desperation in Rafe, and mounting fear. Evidently they realized they would be captured; a distress call wouldn’t change that. Since it would do no harm and might prevent the firing of warning shots, he complied. “Patrol Leader Alpha, this is HS Venture. We are in distress and request assistance.”
“Venture, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“Tell them we have illness aboard and require immediate hospitalization. Tell them to send a fast shuttle to take us directly to the surface.”
But that was pointless, Terry thought in confusion. When they got to the surface it would be seen that neither of them was ill, and they would be in more trouble than if they pretended to have been unaware that Shepard would capture them. He turned to Rafe and asked, “Why?”
“That’s not your concern,” Rafe said coldly. “Tell them, or I will. Now that they’ve seen us we don’t need you anymore.”
They had never intended to leave the surface, Terry perceived. And yet they were both terrified of going there. They could not have been more afraid if they had believed they were going to die. . . .
As he sensed this, full telepathic awareness kicked in and he knew beyond doubt that it was true. These men were certain that they would die, and soon. Which meant they were literally on a suicide mission. They were terrorists who expected Maclairnans to die with them.
~ 71 ~
Looking back in the light of cold logic, it wasn’t hard to make the connections. The enemies of Maclairn who wished it had never been discovered, who had repeatedly proven that they were willing to use violence to prevent its influence from spreading. Quaid, the fanatic who believed that all sources of “corrupting” unscientific thought should be wiped out. The surreptitious rendezvous above Ciencia. The care taken to make sure that Rafe and Yuri couldn’t be associated either with him or with their backers. And the transaction behind closed doors, supposedly involving a mere message, which Terry now saw must have been an exchange of a considerable amount of money for some means of killing inhabitants of Maclairn.
What did the government racketeers on Ciencia have to sell to Maclairn’s enemies? Anything hidden in, or beneath, Quaid’s flight jacket would have been too small for a weapon. At least not a conventional weapon. A weaponized product of biochemistry, on the other hand . . . Ciencia was known throughout the galaxy for its biochemical expertise and the officials at League headquarters were surely aware of that.
Under the spur of crisis, Terry’s long-dormant psi faculties were magnified, and through clairvoyance he saw what the terrorists carried. Vials, many small vials. . . . With horror he recalled that historically, biochemical substances had been used for genocide. Even in past eras, small amounts of such substances could kill large numbers of people. Ciencia’s advanced biochemical engineering might well have produced even more efficient ones. The settlements on Maclairn were confined to a small region of the planet. Given a powerful enough biochemical or virus, it might not be impossible to release enough into the atmosphere to annihilate the whole population.
No doubt Maclairn’s enemies had become desperate. In twelve years, the mentors must have made progress in teaching people to use their latent capabilities. All further attempts to prevent it must have failed, so that the opponents had resorted to stirring up the public’s underlying fear of what psi might lead to. Evidently propaganda-driven hysteria had reached the point where they could recruit terrorists willing to die in order to combat the alleged threat to Earth’s society.
Rafe and Yuri had taped the vials to their bodies as Quaid must have, correctly assuming that there would be no reason for Fleet to search the occupants of an intruding ship if they were captured before reaching the surface. Once on the ground, they would move fast. The substance in the vials couldn’t kill instantly, or they wouldn’t live long enough to open more than one. A delay would have been built into it, resulting in slow, agonizing death for everyone, or almost everyone, on Maclairn.
Which would mean an end to the plan for spreading acceptance of new mind powers. Laesara had said, If that plan fails, your people’s evolution will be set back for centuries, and may even be permanently halted. And she had insisted that only through the influence of Maclairn could the plan be fulfilled before Earth’s civilization collapsed. The Elders had banished him to protect it; had he now, unknowingly and ironically, defeated that aim in his eagerness to regain what they had taken from him? Had he brought about the death of those he loved—his friends, Kathryn, his son?
All this flashed quickly through Terry’s mind, and he knew that he must act. Whether or not the potential holocaust was his fault, it was up to him to prevent it. But how? Oh, God, he thought, where were the Elders now that they were needed? Hadn’t they been tracking his ship? Perhaps not; they were not omniscient, and they might be on the other side of the sun. Besides, they couldn’t have foreseen this kind of threat; if they were watching, they would know that Fleet patrollers had found him, and their policy was to let Fleet deal with intruders when possible.
As Fleet undoubtedly could, if he alerted them to the danger. All he had to do was make sure that the terrorists didn’t get into a shuttle; once they were aboard Shepard, he could expose them before they were taken to the surface. They would be neutralized, and the deadly vials would be destroyed. Maclairn would be safe, and so would he. He could go home. . . .
Except what if the captain of Shepard, thinking him delusional, refused to believe him? What if the biochemical weapon was slow-acting and contagious, so that Shepard’s crew could be infected without anyone realizing that they’d become carriers? Or what if his effort to keep Rafe and Yuri out of a shuttle backfired? They might kill him if he tried to prevent them from leaving Venture, and then nothing could stop them.
Terry knew he could not take that chance.
“I said, tell them we need a medical shuttle,” Rafe repeated, his voice harsh with anger and suppressed apprehension.
“We’re too far out for a shuttle to reach us,” Terry said. “We’re beyond range.”
“The patrollers reached us.”
“The patrollers were alerted by the early warning system. And they never land, so they don’t need to save power for that.”
“Well, tell Fleet to get a shuttle ready and meet us half way.”
Not daring to refuse, which might lead Rafe to shoot him before he could take any action, Terry spoke into the comm. “Patrol Alpha, we have a medical problem. We need transport to Petersville.” He was taking a chance; he wasn’t supposed to know about Maclairn, let alone the name of its capital. If the terrorists did know, they would suspect he was not the harmless pawn he seemed to be and would kill him immediately. But since they might kill him soon anyway, it was vital to tell Shepard that something was not right about the request.
“Petersville? What does that mean?” Rafe demanded, genuinely puzzled.
“It’s a Fleet code word for emergency care,” Terry lied.
“And how would you know any Fleet code words?”
“How do you think I learned to pilot jump ships? I’m a Fleet washout.”
There was a pause while Patrol Leader Alpha, undoubtedly dismayed, contacted Shepard. Then he responded, “Venture captain, please identify yourself and your origin.”
“This is Captain Terry Radnor in command, bringing a message from League headquarters.” They would know this was a lie; the League would not dispatch an unknown ship, let alone a private one. And if his name was remembered after all these years, they would realize that anyone using it was trying to send a signal.
Rafe frowned. Terry, carefully but unobtrusively leaving the comm channel open, said, “Well, what did you want me to say? I assume you’d rather I didn’t mention Ciencia.”
“What’s with the alias?”
“It’s my own name. I used an alias on Ciencia, as what smuggler wouldn’t?” There was no danger of Fleet—or Kathryn—believing it might really be him; if in doubt they would check voiceprint records, and his voice had been changed.
The patrol leader was young, however, and failed to grasp that the speaker was under duress. He burst out incredulously, “Terry Radnor? Not the one the planet was named for?”
God, Terry thought, they must have named Four after him, assuming he had died in the course of trying to protect Maclairn. As indeed he was about to; they had just been a little premature.
“No, not that one,” he said over the comm. But of course Rafe now knew that Terry had had some previous connection with Maclairn. He would understand that an attempt was being made to thwart him.
“Patrol Alpha, our situation is urgent,” Terry added quickly. “Make sure your captain gives it his full attention.” Which by now the captain would already be doing, but that would not eliminate the threat. If the terrorists were suspected of being dangerous, they might reach a prison on the surface before the vials were discovered, and if they were left alone in a cell long enough to open them, prison walls would be no barrier to the spread of the lethal content.
No more time could be wasted; they were fast approaching Maclairn and once they were within shuttle range, the men could attempt to fly Venture’s shuttle past the patrollers. Somehow he had to get Rafe off the bridge so that he could alter course.
Making a move would be risky, yet there was no alternative. In desperation, Terry swiveled in the chair, reaching bac
k to switch off the artificial gravity and grip a handhold. Before Rafe had time to recover from sudden weightlessness, Terry kicked out with both feet, propelling him out the hatch, and locked it behind him by voice command. His long-ago experience paid off; you didn’t forget how to maneuver in zero-g. For the moment, the terrorists couldn’t get to him. But they might well blast the hatch lock if given time.
Where to go? Venture was faster than the patrollers; they couldn’t catch it, so there was no danger of being brought back to Shepard. It was a pity, Terry thought, that there’d been no chance of provoking Fleet into firing to kill; that would have been the best solution. There was no way he personally could kill two armed terrorists. The bridge was sealed and he might depressurize the rest of the ship, but they were not stupid and would be anticipating that; by now they were probably in spacesuits. And they had access to the shuttle. They were suicidal fanatics; they might take off in it, gambling that Fleet would pick them up instead of destroying it—as indeed Fleet would. He must get well away before they had time to try, for Venture had no weapons with which he could shoot them down.
He could jump, he supposed. That he was too near the sun to do so safely no longer mattered. But the AI required a long countdown to jump, and besides, jumping from here would take out the close-by patrollers. So there was no assurance that the terrorists wouldn’t be in the shuttle before he could go into hyperdrive—and where would he head for, anyway? To ensure the terrorists’ death and the destruction of the vials he would have to jump directly into a star, and that would take too long to program since the AI’s safety lock would have to be overidden.
There was only one place he could go, Terry knew, and he had already set his course for it while considering less feasible alternatives. There was no choice. The AI had checked its current position and found it to be miraculously close to him: the asteroid where he had first landed on his very first trip as captain of Picard. Where he had placed the first sensor station, the one that had now, after more than thirteen years, proved its worth by alerting the patrollers.
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 43