The Last Valkyrie

by Dietmar Wehr

  The red icon now moved toward the station until both icons overlapped. Ronson shifted his focus over to the external video feed. The ship was now holding position over the station. The distance between the ship and the station control center couldn’t have been more than 30 meters. As Ronson watched, one of the two main turrets came into view. Before Ronson could ask, Val Ky Ree anticipated his request and the image zoomed in. Ronson was able to see that the turret was moving along a track on the outside of the hull. When it reached the center of the underside, it stopped and swivelled until the very intimidating barrel of the weapon was pointed right at the station control center.

  “Why has the Spearthrower docking bay not depressurized yet, station?”

  “Waiting for crew to request depressurization! Do not shoot, Aesir warship. We are depressurizing now!”

  “Are they, Val Ky Ree?” asked Ronson.

  “Yes, Troy. They might not have realized how incapacitated Corwell and Franklin are. I think this was simple miscommunication.”

  “Does your hangar bay have room for both Spearthrower and Far Trader?”

  “It does. I suggest you head for the hangar bay. Corwell and Franklin will very likely need help. If Spearthrower still has its food supply on board, you won’t have to move them to the ship’s quarters.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way!” Ronson sprinted for the exit. By the time he reached the entrance to the hangar bay, Spearthrower had pulled away from the station’s docking bay and was in the process of carefully entering Val Ky Ree’s ship.

  “I’m backing the ship away from the station, Troy. The Trior are babbling about wanting good relations with the Aesir. I’m not replying. Let them assume what they want about my silence. You’ll be able to board her soon.”

  It didn’t take long for the craft to settle down beside Far Trader and for the hangar bay to pressurize. With the pressure equalized, the entrance door slid open to a blast of freezing cold air. Ronson was expecting it and ran to Spearthrower. The hatch was open.

  Just as he was about to step through, he stopped and said, “Wait a minute! There were two Trior inside Spearthrower for a while, and they weren’t wearing environmental suits. The interior must be contaminated with alien microbes now!”

  “I’ve already taken care of that problem, Troy. The craft was designed to handle that kind of situation. The interior was decontaminated with ultra-violet light while it was on its way to the ship. It’s safe for you to enter.”

  Ronson shrugged and stepped into Spearthrower. “Close the hatch, please. It’s damn cold in here!” said Ronson. He found both men still lying on the floor. They were apparently too weak to stand up on their own. Ronson helped them over to the crew lounge table one at a time.

  “What do you want first, food or water?” he asked.

  “Water!” they both said in unison.

  Ronson wanted to slap his forehead. Of course they would want water. The human body could last a long time without food if it had sufficient water. Both men were probably severely dehydrated. By the time he had two squeeze bottles of water ready, both men had taken off their environmental suit helmets. The smell from the inside of their suits almost made Ronson gag, and he immediately understood why. The Trior had not allowed either man to take off his suit in order to take care of bodily wastes, so the suits were full of both liquid and solid wastes. His face must have showed his distaste for the smell.

  When Corwell took the water bottle from him, he grinned and said, “You get used to the smell after the first couple of days. Don’t worry, we’ll both get ourselves cleaned up as soon as we have the strength to do it, unless you’re willing to scrub us down now.”

  “Ah, sorry, I ah don’t think I’m up to that,” said Ronson as he handed Franklin his bottle and then stepped back. Both Corwell and Franklin laughed.

  “That’s okay. I wouldn’t want to do it either if I was in your position,” said Franklin before taking a long swig from his bottle.

  “Could you maybe get us some food now?” asked Corwell.

  “Sure.” Ronson checked the food stores aboard the craft. There seemed to be plenty of human food left, so not giving food to their captives was apparently a deliberate strategy of starvation by the Trior. He selected some freeze-dried powdered protein and added some hot water. The resulting mush looked a lot like the stuff that Val Ky Ree’s food processor made, but this stuff smelled better. By the time he had two trays with bowls of warm mush ready, both men had had enough to drink, and hunger was now their top priority. Ronson couldn’t understand how they could eat anything with the awful smell around but decided not to ask them that question. He really wanted to get off Spearthrower but waited until he was sure that one or both of them could look after themselves.

  “Did you get the stuff the Trior agreed to trade for our cargo?” asked Corwell.

  “No, not unless it was already in the cargo compartment. I’ll check.” Ronson quickly returned. “The cargo compartment is empty. They obviously took everything you were carrying and figured they didn’t need to give anything back. Well, we’ll see about that! Val Ky Ree, how far away from the station are we?”

  “We’re still within their visual detection range, Troy. I’m backing out slowly so that I don’t seem like I’m scared of them. I’ve been listening to your conversation. Am I right in thinking that you want us to recover either the original cargo or the agreed-upon trade items?”

  “Damn right! Those fuckers keep trying to cheat us! I’m Goddamned tired of it! They clearly haven’t gotten the message yet that we’re not to be messed with!”

  “I’ve brought the ship to a stop. What shall I try to recover, the trade items or the original cargo?” asked Val Ky Ree.

  Ronson thought that over carefully before answering. “How about both?”

  “As punishment, yes. I concur, Troy. We need to make this lesson a painful one. Stand by.”

  Ronson looked at the confused faces of Corwell and Franklin and realized that they couldn’t hear Val Ky Ree’s responses because she was communicating with him through an ear device.

  “Valkyrie to Citanor Station. Spearthrower’s human crew have advised us that you did not transfer the agreed-upon trade items after accepting the human cargo. If you immediately fulfil your trade obligations, we will not hold this matter against the Compact under our previously announced policy of dealing with Compact races.”

  Ronson explained what Val Ky Ree was attempting to do as they waited for the reply.

  “Citanor Station to Aesir warship. We regret our initial reaction to the visit by Spearthrower and are ready to transfer all of the agreed trade items as soon as Spearthrower can redock. Docking bay 14 is available for Spearthrower’s use.”

  “Val Ky Ree to Citanor Station. Do you think that providing the trade items by themselves is sufficient to compensate the humans for the harm you have inflicted on the human crew?”

  Ronson checked his chronometer to see how long it would take for the Trior to reply to that one. The interval was almost half a minute.

  “Citanor Station to Aesir warship. In the interest of establishing good relations between the Trior race on behalf of all Compact races and the Aesirian Empire, we are willing to agree to compensation. What can we offer that will negate the insult we have made to the humans?”

  “You can return all of the items Spearthrower carried to your station in addition to the items that you agreed to trade for them. The humans will trade those items at a station belonging to another Compact race, and they will benefit from that trade. If you are willing to accept that punishment, then the humans have told us that future trade missions with the Trior will not be affected by past actions by the Trior. We suggest that you consider your response to this offer carefully, Citanor Station.”

  This time, a full minute passed before they heard the reply. “We regret to acknowledge that several of the human items have already left the station as part of other trade agreements; however, we will agree to return what
we still have. If there is something else that we can offer in place of the missing items, we would be willing to consider that.”

  “Considering how much time has passed since they took possession of Spearthrower, it is possible that some of our items were traded to other stations or races, Troy. There’s no way for us to know whether they’re being truthful or not,” said Val Ky Ree.

  Ronson thought for a moment and said, “Ask them for a list of the ships that took our equipment, the races they belong to and their next destinations…and make it clear to them that we’ll check whether equipment arrived at those destinations. If we don’t find any evidence of those trades, then we humans will be very angry and will ask our Aesirian allies to take those Trior lies into consideration when Aesirian warships have further opportunities to interact with the Trior. You can also tell them that a human-piloted craft will be coming shortly to pick up the rest of the cargo.” Ronson listened as Val Ky Ree relayed the message to the station. Their replay was surprisingly swift.

  “Station to Aesir warship. The data you requested will be transmitted shortly. Docking bay 14 is still available for Spearthrower.”

  Val Ky Ree spoke before Ronson could comment. “I’ve received their list of recoverable items. Only five of the less valuable items from Gunnir are missing and have supposedly been traded. The really valuable equipment is still on this station. If they were lying about the secondary trades, I would have expected to see some of the more high-potential equipment listed as having been traded, Troy.”

  “Ha,” said Ronson. “Maybe they really are being straight with us this time.” Turning to Corwell and Franklin, he said, “Can you two manage without me now?” Corwell agreed right away and Franklin nodded after a short pause. “Okay, I’ll transfer to Far Trader. See you guys soon.”

  Five minutes later, Val Ky Ree was carefully remote-piloting Far Trader out of the crowded hangar bay while Ronson prepared to supervise the cargo loading personally by donning a spacesuit. The short flight back to the station and the now routine maneuver of backing into the docking bay took another 11 minutes or so. Ronson was ready and standing in the cargo hold with the same lethal rifle in his hands that he had used on Gunnir.

  “Far Trader to Citanor Station. As each container reaches our cargo hold, you will open the lid so that I can verify the contents from my position inside Far Trader’s cargo hold. Be warned that any attempt to overpower the crew of Far Trader will be met with lethal force,” said Ronson.

  Station to…Far Trader? Not Spearthrower? We will not attempt to take control of your ship. Containers will be opened for inspection.”

  The entire loading process took longer than Ronson was expecting, and when it was done, he heaved a huge sigh of relief that nothing had gone wrong. As Far Trader moved smoothly out of the docking bay and headed for Val Ky Ree’s ship under her control, he began to take his space suit off.

  “Troy, I’ve just examined Spearthrower’s computer. The Trior apparently attempted to download all astrogational data when the craft was under their control. I’m unable to determine if they succeeded or not, but we have to assume that they have. That means they may know about all Aesirian colonies, the location of Aesir itself, and what is especially distressing for me, the location of Command Base. It also means they may know about Vesta and the other asteroid outposts. If I were the Trior, I’d send a survey expedition to Command Base immediately. It has forbidden technology, Troy. They must not be allowed to recover that. Ry Han Non was very clear on that point. As soon as Far Trader is aboard, I intend to head for Command Base as quickly as possible.”

  “Understood,” was all that Ronson said. There was nothing else TO say. He had no authority to order her to do something else, and even if he did, checking Command Base also seemed to him to be the appropriate next move. It was unfortunate that Corwell and Franklin had no choice but to come along for the trip because they were in no shape to pilot Spearthrower back to Vesta by themselves…or were they?”

  “Can Spearthrower’s auto-pilot be programmed to take that ship back to Vesta without assistance from Corwell and Franklin?” he asked.

  “Yes, it can. Are you thinking of ah, cutting them loose before I enter hyperspace? Was that the right phrase, Troy?”

  Ronson chuckled. Val Ky Ree’s speech pattern was becoming more human with every day. “Absolutely right, and yes, that’s what I’m thinking. If they have to stay aboard for the detour to Command Base, the Committee will have a heart attack when nobody shows up when they expect us to. I figure by the time Spearthrower drops out of hyperspace in the Sol system, at least one of our two recoverees should be able to take the controls and land the ship at Vesta, although the auto-pilot could handle that too if necessary.”

  “Your analysis is correct as far as it goes, Troy; however, there are other considerations. If the Trior have sent a team to Command Base and you are the only human on board when we get there, you’ll be outnumbered if you try to evict the intruders.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but I doubt if Corwell or Franklin would be completely recovered by the time we got there if they were to come with us. Asking them to engage in potentially dangerous activities in their weakened condition hardly seems fair. I’m willing to risk it alone. It’ll mean that I’ll have to be ruthless in dealing with any intruders, but that’s something I can handle. Let’s get Corwell and Franklin back home so that they can tell the Committee what’s happening.”

  “Very well, Troy. I agree. I’m instructing Spearthrower’s auto-pilot now, and I’m also informing Corwell and Franklin.”

  By the time that Val Ky Ree’s ship had reached the minimum velocity needed to transition to hyperspace and was lined up on the correct vector for the Command Base, Corwell and Franklin had recovered enough to be able to look after their own needs. With barely enough time for Val Ky Ree’s robotic units to transfer cargo from Far Trader to Spearthrower, it backed out of the hangar bay and immediately veered off for its own hyperspace trip to Sol.

  Chapter Twelve:

  Ronson spent the trip learning as much as he could about the layout of Command Base and in particular the fastest way to get from one section to another. If the Base had power, he could have used the pods that moved both vertically and horizontally as needed, but since there wasn’t any, he would have to use pedestrian corridors, access tunnels and maintenance shafts. When he realized that no power also meant no artificial gravity, he began to wonder if he had taken on more than he could manage. Running down kilometers of corridors was daunting enough, but having to propel himself in zero gravity through a maze that size was even more worrisome. Val Ky Ree came up with the solution. Most of her repair bots had the capability to levitate within an artificial gravity field or move around in zero G. One of those units was modified with a simple hand controller and a harness. With the unit strapped on, Ronson would be able to use the hand controller to maneuver in any direction as needed. By the time the ship arrived at Command Base, Ronson had become familiar with using the hand controller.

  He was in the hangar bay watching the external view on the wall screen when the ship approached the huge station. It appeared to him the same as before, and his first thought was that he and Val Ky Ree had managed to get there before the Trior. When he raised that possibility, though, Val Ky Ree reminded him that a Trior ship would have its best chance of gaining access to the station if it used one of the large maintenance tunnels as Val Ky Ree had done on the last visit.

  “So their ship could be in any one of these ship tunnels?” asked Ronson.

  “Correct. I have a small probe that can be remotely piloted to search each tunnel. It’s small enough that it may not attract any attention when it finds the Trior ship. Once we know which tunnel they’re using, we can narrow down which part of the station they’re in. You will then have to leave the ship and maneuver into that tunnel until you reach one of the personnel access hatches. Without power, you’ll have to use a laser-cutting tool to cut your way in. Sin
ce the station probably still has atmosphere, opening the hatch will cause explosive decompression. Make sure you’re not in front of the hatch when you open it, or you will risk serious injury from collisions caused by the force of the decompression wave, Troy.”

  “Decompression, eh? Might that not be enough by itself to get rid of the intruders if the whole station decompresses?”

  “Possible, but not likely. The air in the station has not been circulating or processed for thousands of years. It has probably turned toxic by now, and if they’re smart, the intruders will be wearing environmental suits to guard against Aesirian micro-organisms. Those suits could provide enough breathable air for them to get back to their ship in the event of a decompression. You have to remember how large Command Base is, Troy. Even if one external hatch were opened wide, it would still take days for all the air in the station to leak out.”

  Ronson pondered that for a bit before saying, “I think you’re forgetting something, Val Ky Ree. Once I get the outer hatch open and all that air is rushing out, how am I going to force my way in against that pressure?”