Deep Freeze

by Zach Hughes

  "Did you have a pleasant trip from Tigian, Mrs. de Conde?" he asked, as he shook her hand.

  "I abhor space travel," Sarah said, answering his smile. "But as it goes, it was a pleasant enough trip I suppose."

  "I think you'll find that chair comfortable," Watch said. "Coffee? Tea?"

  "Neither, thank you."

  He sat down behind his desk and picked up a folder emblazoned with the seal of X&A. "I have been going over the information given to me by fleet control," he said. "You are concerned about the Erin Kenner, commanded by Captain Joshua Webster?"

  "My brother, Captain Webster, went into space searching for other members of my family who have been missing for some time. It has been just over two years since my mother and father were last reported."

  "Ah, yes, the Old Folks, Tigian registry."

  "And the Fran Webster, owned by my other brother, David Webster, went missing in the same segment of space about a year ago."

  Watch cleared his throat. "Actually, Mrs. de Conde, the Service does not consider either of those two ships to be overdue. As you must know there are vast distances and huge star populations involved in any exploratory venture away from the established route. Your parents' ship, for example, still has almost one year's supplies, not counting the space rations which would last, in an emergency, for some months."

  "Colonel Watch," she began.

  He cut her off skillfully, with a smile. "If any one of the ships about which you're concerned had filed a flight plan stating that it would arrive at some specific destination at some appointed time, then there would be room for concern. However, both Old Folks and the Fran Webster filed an exploratory agenda for an indefinite period of time."

  She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand to silence her. "As for the Erin Kenner, I would be highly surprised to hear from her inside of two years from her departure from the U.P. Sector. It's her job to seek outthe lonely places."

  "Isn't it Service policy to leave behind permanent blink beacons when an exploratory ship is charting new star lanes?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "And isn't it standard operating procedure for all X&A ships in the field to send back status reports once a month?"

  "Under normal circumstances," Watch said. "In fact, Erin Kenner sent back her routine position reports, including one from a new blink beacon positioned in toward the core from the extragalactic route. We know, however, that it was Captain Webster's intention to search a given area for Old Folks and the Fran Webster. I don't know whether you understand the complicated nature of such a search, Mrs. de Conde. Let me give you an example. Let us say, since the search area is near the periphery of the galaxy, that it contains only a few hundred stars within, say, a radius of a hundred light-years. Many of those stars could be eliminated because of their size and nature. Say only a hundred of them were of the types known to spawn planets. The Erin Kenner could work for a year or more and not have examined all of them, since approaching each new star would require weeks of short jumps and careful movements. During such an operation, which is essentially local, the ship would not be laying down permanent blink beacons and, therefore, she would be out of communications with headquarters."

  "I get the idea, Colonel, that it's going to be some time before X&A gets concerned about the situation."

  "I sympathize with your wanting to have word of your relatives," he said. "And it is highly unusual, isn't it, to have so many members of the same family jumping about in the same region of space. I can only submit to you, Mrs. de Conde, that David and Ruth Webster acted impulsively.

  The search for Old Folks should have been left to Service professionals."

  "The search for Old Folks and the Fran Webster is being conducted by a Service professional," she said. "And I know my brother, Josh. He's a stickler for regulations. I am convinced that he would not allow six months to go by without filing his reports with headquarters."

  Watch cleared his throat again. "The Erin Kenner carries enoughfirepower to protect herself in any eventuality. Captain Webster, although this is his first command, has an excellent record." He stood in dismissal, his smile showing his gleaming dentures. "Don't worry, Mrs. de Conde. I'm sure that all of your family will turn up."

  She had taken time from the middle of a closely contested election campaign to make the trip to Xanthos. She was fuming silently as she left Colonel Watch's office. She spent the night in a luxury hotel, but nothing pleased her. The food did not sit well. The bed was too hard. In her dreams they all called to her, Josh, David, Ruth, Sheba, her mother and father.

  She fretted on the shuttle that took her to Xanthos Space, a trip that lasted two hours longer than the blink back to Tigian. She took a taxi to Pete's office and arrived just in time for lunch. He saw that she was upset and waited for her to pick her own time to tell him about her trip. In the restaurant she toyed with a plate of fruit and salad while her husband ate with gusto. She asked him about developments in the election campaign, although she'd only been gone overnight. Then, at the last, she told him about Colonel Watch and the brush-off she'd been given at X&A

  Headquarters.

  "I'm sorry," Pete said. He chuckled. "It's rather deflating to know that my influence on Xanthos rates me an appointment with a passed-over staff colonel counting the days until retirement."

  "It's not your fault," Sarah said, putting her hand on his. "You did all you could."

  "Perhaps if I put on a little pressure here and there we can do better than your Colonel Watch. Both the central government and a Zede consortium are negotiating with us for the output of the mines on that new planet out in the Two Sisters quadrant. I'm patriotic, most of the time, but I don't like to be treated like some yokel from Outworld Four."

  "Forget it, Pete," she said. "Maybe Watch was right. Maybe we're all being too impulsive. For the time being, I'm going to operate on the theory that if we leave them alone they'll all come home."

  "Wagging their tails behind them," Pete said with grin.

  "I've got an election to win," she said.

  "That Stern fellow called twice this morning to see if you were back."

  "I'll call him."

  "You don't suppose the Queen is serious about him?"

  Sarah shrugged. "With Sheba, who knows." She smiled. "But it's about time for her to find a permanent attachment. I get a bit prickly reading about all of her romances in the media."

  Pete signaled the waiter, gave him his card, pulled back Sarah's chair.

  They parted outside the restaurant. Sarah went directly home and was hard at work on her speech when she remembered Vinn Stern. She punched in the number of his hotel. The call began to ring in his room.

  "Sarah, please," Sheba's voice said.

  She jerked back from the communicator.

  "We need you, Sarah," Ruth said urgently. "Don't ignore us like this."

  "Vinn Stern," a male voice said.

  "Mr. Stern," Sarah said weakly.

  "You're back."

  "With less than satisfactory news," she said. She went on to give him a full report.

  "Vinn," said Sheba, "listen to me, please. Help us. Help all of us."

  "That's a very good imitation of Sheba, Mrs. de Conde," Vinn said bitterly.

  "Vinn, Sarah," Sheba said, "only you can help us. The two of you."

  Sarah switched off the communicator with a shaking hand. "All right," she said. "That's it. That's all. I won't have any more. I am not insane and I don't intend to be. I am going to work on my speech, I'm going to give it, and for the next six weeks I'm going to campaign night and day."

  In her mind there was a surprisingly vivid image of Sheba weeping.

  "Damn it, Sheba," Sarah said loudly, looking around, "where are you?"

  "You know, " Sheba said. "You know, Sarah. "

  For six weeks Sarah was busy with handshakings and speeches and media interviews. She was willing to appear anywhere two or more people gathered who were interested in the state of T-Town's sc
hools. She attended an awards ceremony for Petey's Space Scout troop and shook hands with all of the parents. She sent Frenc off on her camping trip. She talked half a dozen times with Vinn Stern. He was still in T-Town, for what reason Sarah couldn't imagine. She had begun to wonder if Vinn was just another of the hard-smitten fans who often made attempts to get close to Sheba.

  In the last frenzied week she managed to put everything out of her mind. On election day she visited polling places and shook hundreds of hands. She lost the election by less than five thousand votes. Pete threw a

  "victory" party.

  "My wife lost an election," he said, "but I won a wife."

  The little gathering was at home. Their closest friends were there.

  When Vinn Stern showed up, Sarah was surprised.

  "He seems to be so concerned about Sheba," Pete said. "I guess I felt sorry for him, so I invited him."

  Vinn didn't get a chance to talk with Sarah alone until late in the evening. Sarah had celebrated with three glasses of a very fine Selbelese wine.

  "I was sorry to hear that you lost the election by such a close margin,"

  Vinn said.

  "As opposed to losing it by a large margin?" she asked.

  He laughed. "If my speech is a bit imprecise, blame it on your husband.

  He keeps insisting that I sample still another new wine."

  "I feel a bit imprecise myself," Sarah admitted. "As for losing, the professional politicians told me that they were amazed that I did so well.

  They say that if I continue to work hard for the next four years I'll be sureof election next time."

  "And?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

  "Four years is a long time and I have three kids to raise."

  "I'm sure you'll do a splendid job of it," he said. "Look, can we talk?"

  "About what?" she asked, although she knew what he meant.

  He looked at her intently. "It wasn't you imitating Sheba that day on the communicator."

  "No."

  "Do you hear her voice often?"

  "Yes." Had it not been for the wine she would not have admitted it.

  "You?"

  "Constantly. Ever since I came to Tigian City."

  "And not before that?" she asked.

  "No."

  She mused over that information for a moment, then smiled. "Well, if I'm going crazy, so are you," she said. "It's impossible, you know, this business of Sheba—and the others—speaking to me—to us—across time and space."

  "But she does," Vinn said with intensity, leaning toward her. "I can't help but believe that she's in serious trouble."

  "There's nothing we can do," Sarah said.

  "I have been in contact with a mercenary," he said. "He owns a reconditioned scout. Not big, but well rigged and well armed."

  "Don't," she said quickly. "Three ships missing in the same volume of space are enough."

  "I love Sheba, Mrs. de Conde."

  "Yes, I know," she said, lulled away from any suspicion of him by his obvious sincerity. "And how does Sheba feel about you?"

  He spread his hands. "She seems to like me."

  "Still—"

  "Mrs. de Conde, I want you to understand how desperate I am to ask you this. Chartering a mercenary ship is expensive, and I'm a man who lives on a salary—of which there isn't one at the moment. One way or the other I'm going out there."

  "It's a big galaxy," she said.

  "But not big enough for me to get away from her voice begging me to help."

  "I know."

  "Will you help me?" he asked.

  She was silent for long seconds. "Yes. How much?"

  "Fifty thousand credits."

  "Well, I can't take that much out of the household accounts. I'll have to talk with Pete."

  "Will you, please?"

  * * *

  "Fifty thousand credits is pretty steep," Pete said. "I can private charter one of the company ships for half that price."

  "A freighter?" Sarah asked.

  "An executive liner," he said.

  "Mr. Stern sets great store by the fact that the mercenary ship is well armed."

  "Our Zede subsidiaries believe in going armed," Pete said. "I cancharter one of their mining exploration ships. It'll be equipped with anything Mr. Stern thinks might be necessary."

  "Thank you for not laughing at me," Sarah said.

  "I would never do that." He took her hand. "I've been watching you, my dear. You're a bit off your feed. You're losing weight, and I like you just the way you are."

  "The election," she said.

  "No. You thrive on that kind of pressure. My guess is that it's the worry about your family."

  "I do worry."

  "Well, tell your Mr. Stern that I'll order a Zede vessel in here as quickly as one can be made available." He scratched his chin. "On second thought, send him to see me so that we can discuss armament and other needs.

  He's quite a fellow, you know. Science boffin. Big brain. He's mainly a computer type, but he's been around. Did some time with X&A weapons development when he was first out of university."

  "I didn't know."

  "Since we can't send the Rimfire and the whole fleet out, I guess sending Stern is our best bet to ease your mind about your folks."

  "Thank you, Pete."

  He grinned. "Well, you ought to know that even after all the years we've been married all you have to do is ask."

  "I have one more request," she said.

  "Shoot."

  "I want to go with Mr. Stern."

  He chewed on his lower lip for long moments. "All right," he said. "We need a vacation."

  "We?"

  "You don't think I'm going to send my sexy wife off alone into space with a handsome stud like this Stern fellow."

  "I don't want to take you away from your work."

  "Don't worry about it. Listen, my old man used to tell me, 'Pete, there's nothing more important in this life than looking after your own.' All of my people are dead, but your folks are mine by marriage, and they're important to me not only because I like them, but because you love them."

  He came around the desk and kissed her lightly.

  "Now get the hell out of here so I can put in a call to the Zede office. Go get packed or something. Don't forget to put in my motion sickness pills.

  You know how I hate it when a ship blinks."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Many natives of the fifty-plus Zede System worlds were romantics who styled themselves as being more sensitive to love, life, beauty, and aesthetics in general than the somewhat benighted denizens of the hustle-bustle worlds of the mainstream United Planets society. This pose did not prevent Zedians from developing efficient industry and cutting edge technology. As David Webster had known, ownership of a Zede Starliner marked a man as being tasteful and, not coincidentally, quite rich; but luxury liners were just one aspect of Zede leadership. The Verbolt Cloud chamber, the heart of all modern computers, was a Zede development. The descendants of Jonathan Blink, inventor of the blink drive that sent man to the stars, had settled on a Zede world during the diaspora from New Earth and the name was still alive in the system.

  Whether a Zedian was poetic or practical, a practitioner of the cultural arts or a machinist, he was possessed of an adamant pride. The Zede worlds, he would say—and loudly—were the most beautiful, the most fruitful, the most cultured, the most technologically developed.

  Genealogy was and had always been important to a Zedian. It was an ancestrally impoverished man who couldn't trace his lineage back to the colonial period, with a significant emphasis on those of his forebears whohad fought and died in the thousand year old Zede War. That ancient conflict had left scars both on the Zedian national character and in Zedian space. Tour ships ran regular schedules to the areas of scattered asteroids that had once been blue planets, water planets, life zone planets.

  A true citizen of a Zede world forget that once ships from the U.P.

  proper h
ad sent planet busters blasting down into verdant, fertile worlds?

  Never. The old battle flag of the Zede League was still being manufactured and sold by the millions, and, as the Zede mining exploration ship Carmine Rose blinked away from Tigian toward the rim of the galaxy, that familiar Zede symbol was painted on her bow in vivid reds and blacks.

  The ship looked like anything but its colorful namesake. She was squat and angular, built for doing a tough job under the harsh conditions of space rather than for beauty. Brutally efficient tools for digging, boring, blasting, and sampling made odd little nodules on her hull; and to the eye of an experienced spaceman the ports and protrusions of her weapons systems were quite evident.

  In spite of her hard-nosed exterior her interior offered not just comfort for her crew of two and their three passengers, but a surprising degree of luxury. She was, then, a typical product of Zede genius, tough and let's-get-it-done on the outside, a pussycat inside. She had the same power plant that had been developed for the new fleet class space tugs and the conveniences of a passenger liner. She was legally the property of a subsidiary of Pete de Conde's primary corporation, but she was in the care of, and was the pride, joy, and only child of Iain and Kara Berol, loyal and poetically practical citizens of the Zede world, Haven.

  Iain Berol was a large man, barrel shaped, strong-necked, and powerful.

  He wore his hair long and shaggy. In contrast to his percheron body his face was almost delicate, with a strong, straight nose, smoldering black eyes, and chiseled chin. His wife, Kara, was built to match, a big girl, but formed as gracefully and as curvaceously as a sports flyer. She had a pixieish smile that, when properly applied, lit not only her face but a considerable area surrounding her. Kara was pilot and navigator. She could make the Rose's Phase II computer do everything but tap dance and sing songs. Iain was weapons man, general technician, drive engineer, and mining expert. He took it on himself to be the prime host to the passengers, among whom was the H.M.F.I.C. in charge of a businessempire encompassing the mining company that owned the Carmine Rose.

  There were no complaints from the passengers, although both Mr. and Mrs. de Conde confined themselves to their cabin for a period which lasted through the first half dozen blinks. The third passenger, Vinn Stern, showed great curiosity about the ship. He had endless questions for Kara Berol about the drive, the mining equipment, and the weaponry. Once the Rose was out-galaxy and blinking along the Rimfire route Vinn offered to stand watch. Kara, who hated six-on-six-off watches, readily agreed. She told Iain that Vinn was fully capable of taking a full eight hour watch. The major portion of each watch consisted of enduring the long charging periods after Rose had drained her generator in the swift coverage in multiple jumps of a few hundred light-years; and since the Rimfire route was so well delineated even a neophyte navigator such as Vinn could tune the blinkstat communicator to the next beacon, copy the coordinates onto the computer, and push a button.