“There’s an alternative,” he said. “It’s legal to break the seal once we’re out of orbit, beyond the range of its signal. So all we have to do is leave as Vagabond and come back as Estel with its true transponder.”
“But we decided that it’s too dangerous to reveal Estel,” Alison said. “Word’s sure to get around if it’s known to have come here.”
“That may be, but it’s a risk of bounty hunters finding me versus a sure prison sentence. I’d rather take the risk.”
“What good can it do?” Jon protested. “They’re checking all the ships in orbit, so they’ll inspect Estel when it arrives.”
“Not in the first half hour. I’ll take the kids to the surface—I’m pretty sure the couple I met there will shelter them. There’ll be trouble later because they don’t have IDs and there doesn’t seem to be a forger available, but it’s better than for them to be sent back to Eden immediately. And by the time they’re discovered we’ll be gone.”
“You’re forgetting that when Fleet does inspect Estel, they’ll recognize me, as well as the ship’s interior,” Jon pointed out.”
“It won’t be the same officers,” Terry declared. “Except aboard starships, Fleet personnel have at least sixteen hours between shifts. So they can’t be back on duty that soon.”
“How long will the oxygen tanks in the cargo bay last?” Alison asked.
“Nine more hours, but we can’t go that far away because I have to meet the buyer on the ground fourteen hours from now. So it’s six hours out, break the seal, and six hours back, allowing time to establish a new orbit and go down in the shuttle.” It would be cutting it close, Terry thought unhappily, but that was all the time they had. If he was more than a few minutes late, Walt might not wait for him.
He’d had a strange feeling during his conversation with Walt and Jenna; his telepathic sense had told him they were concealing something from him. Yet there was no ill-will. Their friendliness had been genuine; he was sure of that. And Zach had assured him that anyone he recommended was trustworthy. Perhaps they didn’t trust him—though that was unlikely, since they’d said Zach sent them reliable wine sellers.
He piloted the ship out of orbit, heading as far from Stelo Haveno as it would be possible to get in six hours, while Jon explained to Gwen what was happening. Steady, unshakable person that she was, she took it in stride, saying she felt she could keep the kids from panic. Six more hours would be a long time for an inexperienced person to stay in a spacesuit, and since they didn’t have comm capability she could talk to them only by touching helmets. Becka, however, responded to Terry’s telepathic reassurance with surprising serenity. She had discovered during the past week that she was equal to just about any situation.
At last, when the time was up, he broke the seal and the prisoners emerged, suffering more from hunger than from stress and eager for the meal Alison had ready. When they finished it Gwen got to work changing Estel’s transponder back to its original one, hiding the Vagabond transponder for future use. Terry and Jon spent the return trip laboriously moving the wine kegs from the cargo bay’s interior airlock into the shuttle’s hold via the lounge, since it would have been impractical to take the shuttle out of its bay while the ship was under power.
“Okay,” said Terry when they were back at Stelo Haveno and ready to land. “Here goes—let’s see what sort of reception we get.” Rumors about Estel were on the local Net, he knew. Furthermore, Captain Garick had said that Fleet was on the lookout for such a ship. He didn’t know if an official policy had been established; he would have to play it by ear.
“Stelo Haveno Control, this is HS Estel, now establishing orbit. Request permission to land our shuttle. Over.” Fortunately Jon had done all the comm for Vagabond, so there was no danger that his own voice would be recognized.
After a long pause, Control responded, “Unidentified ship, please state your real name and the name of your captain. Over.”
“This is HS Estel,” Terry repeated, “Captain Terry Steward speaking. If you doubt my word, please check your readout for our transponder.” Captains’ names were always stated and he had known he would be required to give it, but after having hidden it for so long, he did so regretfully.
He waited again for a reply. Finally it came: “HS Estel, we have verified your identity. Permission to land granted. You are welcome here and officers will be on hand to greet you. Over.”
Oh, God. He hadn’t stopped to think that he might draw a crowd even before dawn. “Stelo Haveno Control, we ask that our arrival be kept confidential and that we not be met,” he said quickly. “Our shuttle will be unmarked and we wish no publicity. Over.”
“HS Estel, that may be difficult. Many have been searching for you, as you no doubt know. Over.”
“Are we under suspicion of any crime? If not, I am entitled to the same privacy as all other League citizens. I will be on the ground only a short time to arrange for hyperdrive maintenance. Over.”
Another pause. Finally Control conceded, “You are not under suspicion. We will honor your request, but we would appreciate the courtesy of a call at Fleet headquarters before you leave. Out.”
He would have to move fast, Terry knew. The kids were already in the shuttle, wearing Gwen’s flight jackets, her old one and another she had bought on New Afrika. Since the respirator masks would cover their faces, hopefully they could pass as crew members except for the check at the gate. For that, he must trust in whatever scheme Walt had for getting the wine kegs through; reckless as that seemed, they had nothing to lose by gambling on it.
Coming in to land he could see that there was little traffic. Fleet would undoubtedly recognize his shuttle simply by the fact that there were no others coming in at this hour, and they would see it being met by a van; it was too bad he’d had to abandon his original plan to arrive inconspicuously and unload the wine only after a long wait. On the other hand, since they’d acknowledged that Estel was not under suspicion, it probably hadn’t occurred to them that its famous captain might turn out to be a smuggler. They might ignore a shuttle unloading cargo in their eagerness to spot a pilot who looked like a possible celebrity.
Walt’s van was waiting by the landing pad nearest the gate, as Terry had seen from above. Once the shuttle was stabilized he got out quickly and got to work unloading the hold. Merely bringing in cargo was not grounds for challenge; the wine kegs were boxed and not easily identifiable. Walt helped, and because of the respirator masks they did no talking. When they got into the sealed van, however, the presence of the kids had to be revealed.
“I hope Jenna was serious about wanting to help refugees with psi talents,” Terry said, “because I have two in the shuttle who need sheltering.”
Walt stared at him, astonished. “Refugees? You already—?”
“We were in a bind and I didn’t have a chance to ask you; within an hour they’d have been picked up. The girl is telepathic, and her father beat her half to death trying to drive out the devil. Unfortunately they’re underage, so Fleet’s searching all ships for them.”
“How did you expect to get them through the gate, then?”
“The same way you get wine kegs through, whatever that is. They haven’t got IDs so they’ll have to be hidden in the back of the van.”
“My God, you’re a bold one. Zach was right about you.”
“Zach told you about me specifically? He couldn’t have known when I’d be here.”
“Nearly all ships in this region of the galaxy turn up sooner or later. He told us to watch for Vagabond.”
Walt and Jenna had reacted to the ship’s name as if it meant something to them, Terry recalled. But if they’d been watching for Vagabond, why hadn’t they said so? Why had they treated him as a total stranger? “I’m sorry to get you involved in this mess,” he said, “but after what Jenna said—”
Slowly, Walt said, “You made the right choice. Your refugees can get in back with the wine kegs—no need to hide. The cargo area won�
��t be inspected.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have an ongoing arrangement with the officer on this shift; he comes around afterward and picks up a keg. Most sellers, I don’t tell before they deliver because I can’t be sure they won’t give us away. In your case, I was afraid you might be too honest to go along with bribery.”
“I’m not that honest. So far, besides a variety of things in a former life, I’m guilty of evading arrest, forgery, operating a starship under a false name, buying forged IDs for my crew, smuggling, illegal transport, kidnapping, breaking an official cargo seal—oh, and theft, if you want to count relieving a corrupt institution of a couple of items it didn’t need. And of hacking more public knowledgebases than I can remember offhand.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Walt said. “What I do want to know is if Zach was right when he told us you might know how to get in touch with the Captain of Estel.”
~ 37 ~
“You believe the Estel legend?" Terry asked, not knowing whether to feel jubilant or dismayed. He wanted people to believe in the idea it symbolized, not in a man with supernatural powers.
“Zach does. He thinks it’s literally true, that otherwise there wouldn’t be a bounty on the man. He said he told you about that, thought you might be in a position to warn him.”
With a sinking feeling Terry inquired, “Has he sent you a message about the bounty, something more to add to the warning?”
“Not exactly.” Walt looked him in the eye. “You haven’t given me your name.”
“It’s best if I don’t, Walt. It could get you in trouble.” Although he trusted the Fenways not to expose him, they could very well be sought by bounty hunters themselves if any connection to him was suspected, and outlaws of that kind would not hesitate to use unpleasant methods of forcing them to tell what they knew.
Terry escorted Becka and Josh over from the shuttle and made sure that no evidence had been left of their presence. The van was waved through the gate without inspection, as Walt had expected. Once inside the dome they were, temporarily at least, safe.
Jenna welcomed them with warmth, seeming more confused than amazed. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How can you already have picked up refugees? I got the impression that you hadn’t been in touch with Zach lately.”
Terry, equally confused, repeated what he had told Walt. “What has Zach got to do with it?” he asked. “He didn’t mention knowing anyone on Eden.”
Walt and Jenna exchanged glances, but said nothing until the kids had been settled in the kitchen for an early breakfast and the adults had withdrawn to the restaurant’s office.
“I think under the circumstances it’s time you were let in on our secret,” Walt said. “We’ve been sheltering people who’ve been victimized by the Ku Klux Klan on Earth. Zach sends them to us—he has contacts among captains, some of them Fleet captains, who will bring them this far when they’re coming in for maintenance anyway. We have a family with us now, a couple with two little girls. But of course they can’t stay here; this colony doesn’t accept unskilled immigrants, even documented ones. So we can help only a few, depending on who we can find to take them to a world that does. That’s why he told us to watch for your ship.”
Stunned, Terry said, “Why didn’t Zach say anything about this when I was with him?”
“He’s only been doing it for a few weeks. The situation on Earth keeps getting worse, and after he learned one captain had broken the rules, he began looking for others. He didn’t have a way to reach you, but he thought you might be willing.”
“And what’s more,” Jenna added, “he thought you might reach the Captain of Estel. A man like that who knows how to stay out of sight would be able to take refugees to many worlds—maybe all the way from Earth itself. And he’s a symbol, you see. If people heard the Captain of Estel was rescuing victims, just the idea would give them hope, because they’ve suffered for the beliefs that he stands for.”
Terry’s mind was spinning. She was right, of course. It was the sort of thing he was committed to do, and to hell with the risk. But there was an obstacle she hadn’t thought of.
“Where would the funds to operate and provision his ship come from?” he asked. “Unless he’s got a lot in savings, he must work at something—he couldn’t keep making trips to carry refugees without some way to meet the cost.” As he said this, he was thinking that Zach had contact with buyers and sellers on many worlds; if it were possible to communicate with him, smuggling deals might be prearranged.
“I don’t know about the Captain of Estel,” Walt said, “but Zach has sent us enough money to compensate some captain for taking the family that’s with us now. Which could be you.”
“I wouldn’t do it for money,” Terry said, “but expenses—well, with what you’re paying me for the wine, I’ll have enough credits to get my hyperdrive engine serviced but not much more, so I’ll have to go someplace where there’s a demand for what little I can buy here.” This worry had resurfaced now that the time had come when it must be faced. If he spent all he had on cargo and failed to sell it, they would run out of consumables.
“Call it a charter job,” said Jenna. “There’s nothing underhanded about that.”
True—there was no reason why Zach shouldn’t use his illegally-earned wealth to bankroll a rescue operation. He could well afford to charter a ship.
“There’s another problem,” Terry pointed out. “I’m willing to take passengers without transit permits, but what are they going to do if I can’t get forged ones for them later? Any colony’s immigration authorities will require documentation, and so will Fleet’s gate officers. Becka and Josh don’t even have IDs.”
“They’ll have IDs by tomorrow, and transit permits, too,” Walt assured him.
“I thought you said there was no one here who can provide forgeries.”
“I implied it. At that point we assumed you had no need to know. Actually there’s a hacker who sometimes helps people—those in real trouble, I mean, not criminals on the run.”
“You can put me in touch with him?”
Walt smiled. “You’re already in touch. It’s Jenna.”
“I used to be a programmer at League Headquarters,” she told him, “and I know their system, including a few backdoors. I keep quiet about it because there are some who’d demand my services at gunpoint, considering that I’m the only ID forger in Stelo Haveno.”
And he had thought her too unsophisticated to have underworld connections, Terry thought ruefully. His telepathic faculty must be failing him. “What about ansible access?” he asked.
“I contact Zach collect and work remotely through him. Of course it’s just an occasional thing; it wouldn’t be practical on a regular basis.”
Perplexed, he said, “You told me that forging IDs would be useless because IDs are checked at the gate and departures have to match arrivals. Hiding people in the back of the van is fine for private shuttles like mine that you can meet or deliver supplies to, but how do people sneak in or out on Fleet shuttles?”
“Our friend Warrant Officer Lorenski at the checkpoint doesn’t like what’s happening on Earth any more than we do,” Jenna said. “He’s been helping us smuggle wine for years, but this other business, he does just because it needs doing. The captains are told what time it’s safe to bring passengers, and when someone with an ID I’ve coded leaves, a mismatch doesn’t trigger an alarm.”
For a warrant officer to do this was risky, and not only for himself, Terry thought in dismay. What if someday he was given a different assignment? What if he was transferred out? Jenna, seeing his skepticism, added, “He’s not a young man—he’s been here for decades, and took the night shift rather than be forced to retire. I gather he’s considered a fixture, so nobody watches him too closely.”
It might work, Terry thought with excitement. He might be able to get the kids and the other refugees onto Estel—but that would have to wait until it was out of the space d
ock. He liked the idea of putting it in for maintenance under its own name less and less—but what choice had he? The hyperdrive engine hadn’t enough fuel for another jump, at least not with enough reserve to go anywhere after that, and if stuck where it couldn’t get antimatter it would be stuck forever. He had heard of starships permanently stranded in solar systems where no hyperdrive maintenance could be done, and the thought of such a thing happening to Estel filled him with dread.
With the kids safely in the Fenways’ care, it was time he got over to Fleet’s technical office to schedule a space dock appointment and make the down payment on the work—at least now he was assured of having enough credit to reclaim Estel. And, he supposed, he would have to visit Headquarters as Port Control had requested; it would look odd if he didn’t and he couldn’t afford to become the focus of attention.
Yet, he thought suddenly, what if he was already under surveillance? Word might have been passed by the officer who’d evicted him from Centauri that he was an undesirable; that officer had known his true name. Or the rumors about Estel alone might have branded him as persona non grata on the theory that his presence might cause trouble. Perhaps their courtesy had been a trap; they might intend to hold him and his ship. . . .
In an agony of apprehension, Terry was unsure what to do. His instinct—perhaps precognition—told him to get out while it was still possible, and take the refugees with him. Reason told him that it was not possible until the hyperdrive engine was serviced.
And then, suddenly, the situation became critical.
Walt answered a knock on the door and admitted Warrant Officer Lorenski, who’d come to collect his keg of wine. “You’ll want to get out to the port right now,” Lorenski said. “A rumor’s spreading that the ship Estel is in orbit, and that the Captain of Estel has landed in a shuttle. A lot of people want to get a look at him.”
“Oh, I hope it’s true!” exclaimed Jenna. “Walt, let’s both go—we can get back before it’s time to open the restaurant.”
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 68