Soon after sunrise, the lighter lifted, and flew south to the depot at Southampton. The fire long out, only a tall thin plume of white smoke showed the location of the explosion of the previous night. The early TV news treated it as lead story, police and fire vehicles, ground and air, all over the area, but did not dwell on it. At the depot, Lori waited nervously behind the false wall, while things bumped and thumped in the rear of the lighter, cargo coming on board. After a short time, it lifted, and Morales appeared.
“Next stop, Newark Entry, New Jersey,” he said.
“No inspection?” Hunter said.
“Nothing, not even a scan. We’ll be there before dawn, local time.” He smiled.
Lori said, “They knew.”
“Maybe.”
“I think so. And for some reason, they let us go.”
“Well, handy of us to rid them of a, ah, shall I say, ‘Sticky Situation.’ and the Brits are always practical about such things.”
“Any reaction from the other cells?”
“Nope, all quiet. Everywhere.”
“Get any sleep?” Hunter asked her when she turned toward him.
“Yeah, some, in Eagle One. Enough, I guess, but I’ll be tired tomorrow. Today, I mean. When we get back.”
“Yes, well, it’s a light day, business as usual, we’ll sneak back in as we left, then go to work as usual. Then we can take off early, if you want.” Hunter smiled at her.
“No, we do nothing different from any day. In fact, work late. Keep my staff hopping. We can sleep on the weekend, if we need to.”
Major Morales stepped up to them. “Message from the bigboys. Embassy. Highly classified.”
“How’d you decode it?” Hunter said, taking the reader.
“Ah, prior coordination. They seem quite pleased with some sort of business deal, or something,” he said, smiling, and he stepped away.
Hunter showed Lori the reader. After a lot of numbers and codes, it read, “Accept offer for return of defective merchandise, with regrets. Most thanks for patience, and assistance. We incur a Debt of Honor. Details next meeting.”
“All that in code?” Lori said.
Hunter snorted. “The bigboys admitting to an honor debt? I’d say so. That’s not something they do every day.”
“When do we meet them next?”
“Friday.”
The lighter bore on over the North Atlantic, soon overtook night, cleared ATC, and passed customs in Montauk. It landed where it left, at the huge depot in Newark, one of dozens at any one time. Even with the warehouse humming with activity, no one paid the least attention to the crates and bundles off loaded onto AG sleds, or to the air car, hauled out onto a dolly, and shifted to another lighter, a freighter, a large one, which soon left, flying slowly to Brooklyn. The air car off loaded there, moved to a storage area, and sat there for an hour. As the sun rose it lifted, skimmed over the fence, and slidedown the side of a long building next block over. A delivery vehicle transponder light came on, and it lifted into the scant early morning traffic, flying a circuitous route, that took it to and into the high-rise along Riverside Drive. The ATC would note it continued on after a brief pause, heading downtown, probably delivering things here and there. At 8:45, as usual, the Lindblooms left, entered their air car, Eagle One, its transponder on again, and flew down to their offices near Wall Street. Another day had begun. But all was not as it appeared–Eagle One had switched transponders with another hagazzii parked in the building, a delivery van, which actually left earlier.
Friday night, the Sloanes and the Lindblooms gathered at North Rock, Amanda and Ricky’s home, for dinner. After dining by candlelight, they moved to the lower level, and on into the bomb shelter.
“Holy shit, this is pretty slick,” Isaac Lindbloom said, looking at the small space. “Never knew it was here. And not likely to be bugged, or anything?”
“No, it’s clean, far as we can tell, never had a bug, or anything.” Alan Sloane turned on the exterior monitors, scanning the area outside. Eagle One added its input. All clean and green. “OK, good, where do we stand?”
Amanda said, “Morales’ contact in England reports that Scotland Yard determined that the cottage held a number of illegal and highly dangerous munitions, some possibly from off world, which ignited for some unknown reason, resulting in the total destruction of the structure, and the death of two or more individuals. Remains were so thoroughly consumed, that positive identification could not be made. Even the vehicles parked outside were reduced to slags of metal. However, three people are reported missing, or at least, not seen locally, after the fire.”
“And the press?”
“Which ones?”
“Mainstream reports pretty much what Scotland Yard said, little more, gave the names of three missing, and their presumed affiliation with Earth Only. The tabloids–man, running the usual hysteria, everything from alien bombardment from space, to missile attack from the sea, to a commando raid by the bigboys. They got the part about the Hellburner right, not much use in denying that, but the bigboys are mum.”
“And our space department?”
“I called my friend, John Kendall, to thank him for the initiative, and he shushed me immediately,” Amanda said, “So I think they’re sensitive about it, and not sure if we were involved or not. But the governments affected know someone, or somehow, got to the Earth Only leadership, and hit them. They’re not buying into the accidental ignition reports.”
“No matter,” Mr. Sloane said, waving a hand. “Anything tying it back to us, directly or indirectly?”
“Morales has been listening all over, wherever he has contacts, and has heard nothing about that. The Earth Only people, the remaining ones, and there are fewer than everyone thought, I gather, are pretty quiet, and very nervous. Most are hiding out, they’re afraid they’ll be hit next. They don’t buy the accident theory, either.”
“Any likelihood of that? More hits, I mean?” Hunter asked.
“Not by us. But maybe by governments, or independents. Lots of business interests have been hurt by their campaign, and they’re not the most popular group in a lot of places, not just the US.”
“Who called you, Lori?” Isaac asked.
“Couple of the news nets.” She shook her head. “I didn’t talk to any of them, just had my PR person tell them I had no comment. None of them called back.” She tilted her head, and made a wry face.
“So we’re out of it, then,” Marne said.
“Yeah.”
“Hans, Frederich, I mean, remains the loose lead. Can we trust him?” Isaac asked.
“I’m gambling on it. Morales gave him his, and my, personal word of honor not to seek to silence him. So we’re taking a chance on that. But he seems pretty well pleased with himself, and had his own grudge to settle, and so for the time being at least, is out of the picture, as near as we can tell.” Lori shrugged.
“OK, let’s let it pass on for now. No discussion anywhere in public, listen if the point is raised, like anything else in the news that we’re not interested in, see if it will fade away, like all old stories do.” Hunter looked around at the group.
“The matter of the Hellburner is the only thing that worries me, sooner or later, I bet some reporter will look into that,” Ilene said.
“Well, they’ll find if they poke around a little, that it’s rumored that if one is not kept under pretty rigid security protocol, safety standards updated periodically, codes changed, too, they may become, ah, shall we say, ‘unstable,’ and likely to short out, maybe even go off. The bigboys won’t admit to that, but they will say that they never deploy or take that particular munition to a planet’s surface, for any reason. It’s only kept, and deployed, from space.” Mr. Lindbloom paused, and added, “That will add to the accidental scenario. I doubt that it will be widely reported, but bet it gets to the right people–the remaining Earth Only gang.”
Lori had sat, leaning against a chair, stretched out, listening to the discussion. Pe
ople turned to look at her.
“Think that’ll do it?”
She shrugged again. “Won’t hurt. Dunno. Won’t change anything much, I think, of what we’re doing, unless it can be established we were in on it, somehow, and I think that’s unlikely, even in this day and age. Unless someone saw us, or recorded us on a sat or traffic spyeye, there’s no proof we were nearby, and much to counter we weren’t. So as time goes on, the better it gets for us. But it hardly matters in the long run–the Earth Only ones will hate our guts forever, no matter what. So we keep up our security protocols, and I’m still going to Florez next week.”
“With that, I think this gathering is done. Shall we adjourn upstairs for coffee?” Amanda said, gesturing with a hand.
The group left, chatting, Lori last. Her stomach still knotted as she thought back onto that night, and what she’d done. I am death incarnate. No, really, what she and Eagle One had done. And Hunter. Her champion. Then she closed the shelter and went up and joined the rest of the family.
Chapter 6 - Hard Sell
The Pokoniry were the first intelligent aliens humans found in their exploration of near space. Native to the planet Florez, they had four legs, two arms, fur covered bodies, wide heads, tufted, round ears, and a short, stiff tail, and stood just over a meter or so at the shoulder. They usually wore no clothing, save for small fanny packs, and sashes for ceremonial and official functions, which often were decorated with various symbols of rand and honors. Now on that planet, Lori walked to a meeting, one she’d requested.
Lori knew it would be a hard sell from the start, and she was right. Entering the small conference room in the hotel, she saw a half a dozen Pokoniry squatting at one end of the long table. Their demeanor relayed their latent hostility–no greeting, no one moving to welcome her, ears held at half-mast, bodies rigid. Only their official sashes showed some measure of welcome, those reserved for important occasions, or important people. Seeing a human style chair, padded in warm burgundy Velour at the closest end of the table, Lori figured that was for her. She hesitated a moment, waiting for a word from someone, and in the silence, she wondered what to do, but figured standing over the group, towering over them, really, was worse than taking the chair. She sat down.
Still no one said anything.
So Lori, looking at each one in turn, began.
“I am Lorelei Saxon Sloane, leader of the Earth Expedition to 47 Tucana, native of the Planet Earth, and resident of the Country of the United States of America.” Despite endless rehearsals, and memorization of her outline, she had to remind herself not to thank the Pokoniry for meeting with her. She went on, right to the heart of the meeting. “I am also the current operator of the hagazzii, now know as Eagle One, and reputedly the last of the planetary explorer models with highly enhanced intelligence.” No reaction, maybe that was good.
“Perhaps you know that I, my intended mate for life, and the visitors from the planet Uta, were attacked in open atmosphere several weeks ago on my home planet. Because of the evasive action of the hagazzii, in avoiding several missiles, we were not killed immediately. We survived a hard landing on the surface”– she dared not use the word “crash”–“and evaded people sent to capture or kill me and the Damai. The hagazzii, though greatly debilitated by the use of a wave disruptor, or other device of unknown properties, flew us from the ambush site back to the safety of New York City. In doing so, it nearly destroyed itself.”
Lori paused, looking at the group.
“For many years, the hagazzii Eagle One has served me and my family before me very well. It has been present at each time a new intelligence race has been discovered, and is largely responsible for the initial meetings with the Damai on the planet Uta. It is a credit to the knowledge, skill, and foresight of the Pokoniry, and in all our reports we always give recognition to Florez as the home planet of the planetary explorer model hagazzii still in my family’s service.”
She hoped that would mollify their feelings of possessiveness, if any.
“While time has passed, Eagle One has aged, and though well maintained, is no longer current in defensive measures, nor up to date in strategy, knowledge of advanced weapons capable of being used against it, and appropriate counter-measures, and this places its own existence, as well as anyone it transports, in grave danger from hostile elements in my own culture, or others we might discover as we continue to explore the unknown parts of the nearby universe.” Now did that give them pause, or not?
“Therefore, in order to continue on my own exploratory expeditions, as well as to insure the safety of my visitors and ambassadors from Uta, the Damai, I have come to Florez, with the hagazzii Eagle One, to seek modernization of its defensive array, and what ever other upgrading of its operating systems will prove useful and necessary in the unexplored and unknown areas,” and Lori waved a hand upward, “Out there, as well as equally unknown, even if unlikely, dangers on my own home planet.” She hoped that might mollify any hidden fears of applying the weapons and what not to nefarious purposed here on planet Florez.
“I seek your assistance, your advice, and your guidance, in whom I might apply to for the necessary permits for such modernization for the hagazzii in question. The hagazzii will remain in the service of the Family Saxon, will not remain on planet, and be with me wherever I go.”
She didn’t want to over-mention the name, and wanted to be seen as deferring to local authorities for permission, and knew she’d get nowhere without it anyway. Again, she reminded herself not to thank the group, in advance. She stopped speaking, took a deep breath, let it out, folded her hands on her lap, and waited.
No one spoke for a few moments, Lori continued to sit in silence, patiently waiting, wondering what would be said. Finally, someone spoke up.
“Some might say, the hagazzii is hopelessly obsolete, not worth fixing up, why bother.”
Another said, immediately, “Many fear the capabilities of the enhanced models, they are banned, for reason, none fly the skies of Florez, nor ever will, and we would deny any attempts to upgrade the occasional rogue model still in existence, after all this time.”
“Those in government of the home country express opposition to any upgrades from Florez. If so, why should we be different?
“The operator, herself, proved erratic in a previous visit, might be so again.”
“One notes the actions of the operator on the planet discovered in 47 Tucana, and the sad results of two meetings with local religious authorities. One wonders what might happen with a more powerful hagazzii.”
“Yet, one might wonder at the shame and dishonor to Florez, if valued ambassadors from a new planet suffer harm at the hands of bandits, while in one of our hagazzii, no matter how old.”
“Indeed, the fact of the great age, yet still operating efficiently and effectively, is testimony to the superior technology of the Pokoniry, and such technology ought not be lost, due to the appearance in the hands of others of more advanced, if hostile, offensive weapons.”
Another brief pause.
“Adequate defensive measures, some simple, some not so, yet all capable of operation by the HEI hagazzii, Eagle One, are available now. The cost is considerable, however. The practicality of installation is unknown. The precedent of permitting such technology of the highest order, to be exported off planet, is rare, or non-existent. As you should know, since your own planet often follows a similar policy for highly effective new technology, or advanced weaponry.” The speaker paused. “Yet, it has occurred, in collaboration with our friends, the bigboys, and even, to some extent, to the humans of the planet Earth. To others, however, no. And one would need assurance that any such technology does not fall into the grasp of others to whom it is now denied, and may always be denied.”
Lori noted his avoidance of the word “hands,” knowing the illi-illi, surely the target, or one of them, of his remark, did not possess them. The silence returned. After a minute, Lori said, “May I speak again?” In her mind, she’d plan
ned a reply to each of the points raised, and hoped to be able to say them.
“In the situation on Uta, the hagazzii, and its defensive weapons were employed only in exploratory roles. We humans have some capability of defending helpless individuals about to be sacrificed for lustful purposes, and when attacked ourselves with cleverly hidden and launched knives. We, however, have no capability of defending against wave disruptors.”
She paused. “I know of the edict ending the production and use of EI models of hagazzii. And I recognize the distress at the continued use of one such model, by an alien. Yet, as testimony to the brilliance and knowledge of Pokoniry scientists and engineers, that one such model still remains operational, is extraordinary. It remains operational, you might agree, only because it is not based on the Planet Florez, and seldom returns here, and then only briefly. Far better for an alien to operate the hagazzii, than for a Pokoniry to do so. And whom might that Pokoniry be? You explore distant systems still today, as do we, yet what of the home-time? What of the hagazzii then? Now, it is off planet, where none might question its use, operation, or status. Would it not be best to continue that arrangement–you receive the historical credit for the hagazzii, and suffer none of the side effects you worry about still. The hagazzii Eagle One still performs best at what is was designed to do–explore new, distant planets, and protect its operator and passengers. It is well maintained and fully operational and I only ask that it be brought up to date in defensive capabilities, not offensive. Will you do that for me, direct descendent of Stephanie Saxon?”
There, she played the final card in her hand–a request from the first born trice of Stephanie Saxon, still well regarded, if anything her memory greatly glorified over the many years, by the population of the planet as a whole, and by this particular area as well. If they won’t do it for her, maybe they will do it for Stephanie.
Lori sat back, folded her hands on her lap again, and waited, looking at the people before her, one by one. They stared back.
T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6) Page 8