Knight Errant

by Paul Barrett

  “Collect the reward?” Hawk asked. “I don’t recall you mentioning you knew where to collect the reward.”

  “Because I hadn’t. Ship picked up information off the Mercnet that the general public doesn’t have. First off, the reward to mercs is three hundred million.”

  Hawk whistled. “That’s it; I’m turning us all in and collecting the reward. Who’s paying?”

  “It doesn’t say,” Gerard explained. “All it says is to bring Ship and us to Meta Brévé and contact Fralor in the city-state of Tralsac. They want us dead or alive, but Ship they want intact.”

  “Ship?” Hawk said. “Why do they want her?”

  “Not certain, but the reward posts are very specific that the craft is brought in intact.”

  “Where in the hell is Meta Brévé?” Ashron asked.

  “Ship?” Hawk said.

  “Eighteen parsecs away. The planet is 7,490 kilometers in diameter, a standard atmosphere with slightly high nitrogen content, covered by seventy percent water, and a population of three point eight per square mile. The government is based on the feudal system. The Planetary Council has ruled it a tech-restricted planet. The current technological level is roughly equivalent to 15th century Earth. Worst of all, there is no starport. However, there is a Council monitoring outpost that allows docking for three ships.”

  Hawk stroked at his mustache for a moment. “This simplifies things a bit. I think it’s time we jump into the jaws of the Frandif.”

  “What does that mean?” Ashron asked in a wary voice.

  “He wants us to go to Meta Brévé,” Gerard answered.

  “Exactly,” Hawk said.

  “I was afraid that’s what it meant,” Ashron said. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “What better way to find out who’s after us than to go to the source?” Hawk asked him.

  “Well, why don’t we make it even easier for them? I’ll buy the silver platters, and we’ll have a courier service deliver our heads on them.”

  “All we’re going to do is scout the planet and see if we can get some ideas.”

  Ashron said nothing for a moment. “Okay, Ship, Hawk wants you to set a course for Meta Brévé.” He smiled. “We’re jumping into the jaws of the Frandif.”

  “Not yet. I still want to contact Force 13. We’ll head to Meta Brévé after I make my report.”

  Ship spoke up. “Captain, I finished the name search for Anne Siliar. There were several, but none matched her picture. If you’d like I can do a galaxy-wide picture to picture comparison to find out her real name. It could take up to seven weeks.”

  “Go ahead and start,” Hawk said. “She could answer a lot of these questions. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling she’ll find us before we find her.”

  Trey looked at Ashron as the crew began filing out. “This is kind of like a real-life chess game, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Ashron muttered. “I just hope we’re not the ones who end up in checkmate.”

  Hawk stood in his quarters in front of his blank viewscreen. “Link established,” a monotone voice, belonging to Force 13’s transmitter, said.

  “About time,” Hawk muttered. He had been waiting twenty minutes for the tight focus beam to traverse the parsecs between him and his contact. The viewscreen flickered; an image appeared of a tall, thin humanoid with vibrant orange skin, large black eyes, and a wide mouth with thin, almost non-existent, lips.

  “Hello, Grendarin.”

  “Greetings, Hawk,” Grendarin said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this contact?”

  Something about Grendarin’s tone put Hawk on his guard, even though he had no justifiable reason. The Lokathi were known throughout the galaxy for their honor and trustworthiness. That’s why every Force 13 liaison was a member of that race. Then it hit him. Grendarin should have already been apprised of their status and known the exact reason for Hawk’s contact. He should be demanding to know what happened.

  Full of misgivings, Hawk pressed on. “I wanted to let you know the rescue mission was a bust. Yonath Maratai and his family are dead.”

  Grendarin frowned, an expression most people found unnerving. “I have to apologize for my lack of information, but I am not aware of any such mission.”

  Warning flags flashed in Hawk’s brain. Either Grendarin was lying or the Knights, Hawk specifically, had been severely duped. Neither prospect held much appeal. “A week ago, I met with three agents from Section T who told me that Yonath Maratai had been kidnapped. W―”

  “Which three agents?”

  “Stearns, Section T, Tudev and Sivali, both section I. I met them at the―”

  “Seldon Excelsior,” Grendarin finished for him.

  “So you did know about the meeting,” Hawk said, although the drop in his stomach told him that wasn’t the reason behind Grendarin’s knowledge.

  “No, but that is where we found Sivali’s and Tudev’s bodies, slumped over a table in the conference room. The Seldon police want you for questioning since an anonymous party mentioned seeing you leave the conference room.”

  Hawk knew the exact identity of the anonymous party. “They were alive when I left.”

  “I accept that. You are not a suspect in Force 13’s estimate. The agents were shot in the back of the neck. Assassinated, which does not correlate to your termination methods.”

  “You only mentioned two. Where’s Stearns?”

  Grendarin frowned again. “The last anyone saw him, he went into a training class, picked a cadet for a mission and then disappeared.”

  Hawk nodded. Moran or whoever backed Moran had bought off Stearns. “I think Stearns has gone renegade and he’s tied in with Moran.”

  “Moran? I was on the understanding he was terminated half a decade ago.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Hawk quickly described what they knew and the reasoning behind the doctored news stories. When Hawk finished, Grendarin remained silent for several seconds, his thin lips pursed in thought as he nodded.

  “We can do nothing about any mercenary units, but I should be able to discretely assure local enforcement does not harass you,” Grendarin finally said. “And I will relay the communication for Council troops to ignore you. We will attempt to have the news outlets issue a retraction. It will take time and may not occur. We will also double our efforts to find Stearns and see how deeply he is involved in this and if there are any others.”

  “Keep a close eye on Unicybertronic Technologies,” Hawk suggested. “I’m convinced they’re involved in this somehow.”

  “I will try, though I do not believe the Council will consider it a high priority. Yonath was implanted for over a year and could find nothing with which to incriminate them; The Council will most likely assume innocence for Unicybertronic and bad karma for Yonath.”

  Such was the burden of working within a bureaucracy. “Well, do what you can.”

  “If you provide evidence of their culpability, the Council can intervene,” Grendarin said.

  “I’ll keep it in mind. Right now, I’m a little more interested in tracking down Moran.”

  “Perhaps one will help you discover the other,” Grendarin said. “Do be cautious. Keep me informed, and if we discover the whereabouts of Stearns, I will apprise you.”

  “Thanks, Grendarin. Hawk out.”

  “F-thirteen out.”

  As the image flickered away, Hawk let out a sigh. It was about as much as he expected, even if he had hoped Grendarin would offer two squads of Force Marines and a concerted effort to clear the Knights’ name.

  “Never hurts to dream,” Hawk said ruefully. “Okay, Ship, tell everybody to take an hour and then we’ll hit rip. Let’s go find out what we can learn at Meta Brévé.”

  16

  Outpost Arrival

  Hawk sat on the bridge, staring out the viewport at the blue glow of Meta Brévé and waiting for his ripspace headache to dissipate. The two-day ripspace journey had been filled with training and preparation for their u
pcoming visit. Even Trey, at Ashron’s suggestion, had begun basic weapons training. Though the boy had seemed strangely reluctant at first, he soon took to the challenge of shooting simulated floating discs and was proving quite adept. Hawk didn’t know what Gerard had discussed with the boy, but there had been no further instances of trouble before their jumps to ripspace.

  Their re-entry into normal space occurred without incident. Hawk’s fear that they would find an unfriendly welcoming committee proved baseless. The only space object on Ship’s sensors was the monitoring outpost on the far side of the planet. A quick scan and hack into their database told Ship they had not received any information on the crew’s wanted status. As near as Ship could tell, they received little in the way of current data from any of the Uninet links. The station didn’t warrant the expense of the infrastructure.

  Despite his headache, Hawk smiled as he heard the bridge door open and Ashron’s tail dragging across the deck. He had been expecting a visit.

  “Captain, what the hell just happened?” Ashron asked.

  “What do you mean?” Hawk asked, removing his grin and swiveling around in the captain’s chair to stare at the irritated Lorothian.

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? If we weren’t in space, I’d swear you ran into a wall. You almost sent Trey through the viewport.”

  “So, you’re saying the new brakes seem a little grabby?”

  “Brakes? Look, I realize I’m only a lowly demo tech, but even I know spaceships don’t have brakes.” Ashron raised his narrow eyes to the ceiling. “Ship, what happened?”

  “I had the hiccups.”

  “The hiccups?”

  “Well, one hiccup.”

  “I’m not going to get a straight answer from either of you, am I?”

  Hawk stared at him, and Ship remained silent.

  “Fine. I’m going back to the wardroom.”

  “Captain,” Ship said. “The Outpost Master is hailing you.”

  “Put him on.”

  Ashron paused to listen.

  “This is Commander Motash of Meta Brévé outpost. Why did you skip the atmosphere?”

  Ashron’s slitted eyes grew wide.

  Hawk looked at him. “Editorial comment?”

  “No, not me. I’ll just go back to the wardroom now.” Ashron turned and moved at a quick pace. Hawk knew that within two minutes the rest of the crew would have the scoop. Nothing he could do about it now, so he turned his attention back to the monitor. A man with a face full of sharp edges stared at him, deep-set black eyes glaring in impatience.

  “Sorry about that,” he said to the waiting commander. “We had a power fluctuation that messed up our sensors. We’re back online now.”

  The commander stared at Hawk with his hands held behind the crisp, charcoal-gray uniform with bright red breast patch in the shape of a shield: the uniform of the Council Planetary Protection Service. Hawk could tell by the set of the man’s angular jaw that he was weighing the validity of Hawk’s story.

  “Very well,” the commander said, sounding as if his good grace was the only thing keeping Hawk from a fate worse than death. “What is your purpose for coming to Meta Brévé?”

  “Research. I have two professors from the University of Zabar, and they’re doing a study on Religious and Magical Practices on low-tech planets.”

  “You have proof of that?” the man asked as if the very idea were ludicrous.

  “Yes,” Hawk answered. Ship had created the requisite credentials yesterday; Laura and Gerard had taken a crash course on Zabar and the University, on the minute chance someone on the outpost would know about either and asked them questions.

  The man again paused as if pondering the fate of worlds. Hawk put his hand over his mouth as if rubbing his mustache, and keyed off the outgoing audio. “This guy’s either a pompous ass or a real slow thinker,” he said.

  “I vote for the former,” Ship said.

  “You may dock at port three,” the commander said in a tone that suggested Hawk should fall to his knees and worship the man for his benevolence.

  Hawk keyed the audio back on. “Roger that. ETA in,” he glanced at the display, “two minutes, thirty-seven seconds.” Hawk closed the channel before the man could say anything else. “Go ahead and dock us, Ship.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “I’m going to the wardroom and do damage control on Ashron. Let me know when we’ve docked.”

  “You’re kidding,” Laura said. “He bounced off the atmosphere?”

  “Yep.”

  “What would make Hawk skip the atmosphere?” Laura asked.

  “I don’t know. Ship said it was a hiccup, and Hawk tried to convince me Ship had brakes.”

  “She does have brakes, after a fashion,” Wolf volunteered.

  “Nothing that would make us bounce around like that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ashron saw Hawk walk into the room. “I think he’s been nipping at the bottle again.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Hawk said, walking over to the bar and pouring a shot of tequila.

  “See, there he goes now,” Ashron said, “sucking it down like a sponge.”

  Hawk ignored him. He downed the liquor. “We’ll be docking in about two minutes. Gerard, Laura, ready to be university professors?”

  “As ready as two days can make us,” Gerard said.

  “I don’t think Mister Personality will take much bluffing. Let me go talk to this squink, and I’ll call you in once I have the situation assessed.”

  Hawk left the wardroom and made his way to the airlock, arriving as the dull metallic thud and slight jarring indicated they had docked.

  “Docked, Captain,” Ship said.

  “So I noticed. Open the airlock.”

  The airlock door irised open. Seven meters away, the entrance to the station opened. A man wearing the Planetary Protection Service uniform stepped through the doorway and greeted Hawk. A green vertical bar above the shield emblem marked him as ex-marine; it showed in his proud bearing and arrow-shaped haircut.

  “Welcome aboard.” the man offered a sharp salute. “My name is Waren. Please follow me.” The man turned and all but marched back into the station. Hawk followed.

  Waren led Hawk halfway around the circular, white-walled station. They stopped at a gray door on the inward side of the hub, and Waren knocked.

  “Enter,” a voice said from the other side. The door slid open to reveal a small, windowless chamber. The man Hawk had met over the viewscreen sat behind a plaswood desk, a smug expression on his face. His black hair appeared even oilier in person than it had on the monitor.

  Hawk stepped through the door as Waren saluted, turned and left. Hawk walked over in front of the desk. Putting on his most disarming grin, he offered his hand. “Commander Motash, pleased to meet you. Damn fine outpost you have here.”

  The Commander regarded Hawk’s hand as if he saw something disgusting, and made no effort to reciprocate the gesture. “I’m sorry, did you expect anything less?”

  “Of course not,” Hawk said, his smile slipping a notch. Time to get this over with, he thought. He dropped his hand. “What do I need to sign?”

  “One moment, Captain…” the commander glanced down at the screen on his desk, “…Grey?”

  Hawk nodded.

  “Right. I will need to meet these professors and anyone else that will be going down to the planet.”

  Hawk nodded and activated his collarbone transmitter. “Laura, bring everyone on board.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Laura said in his ear.

  “They’ll be along in a moment.”

  “Fine,” the commander returned his gaze to his desk and began shuffling through papers on one corner. Hawk pulled the chair out from the front of the desk and sat down. The commander glanced up, said nothing, and returned to his paperwork.

  Hawk thought about trying to start a conversation, decided his social skills would be too severely tested, and remained silent.

  T
o pass the time, Hawk studied the room. To call the chamber Spartan would have been kind. Aside from the usual equipment necessary for any governmental office, there was nothing in the chamber. No pictures of family, no plaques or certificates. Not even a plant to add a little cheer.

  Dismal room for a dismal personality, Hawk thought. He surmised that the boredom on a station like this for any length of time might sour one’s outlook on life. Especially being cut off from the rest of the universe for whatever reason. Hawk knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it for more than a day.

  A few minutes passed, and Hawk was about to call again to find out the delay when the chamber door opened. The Commander looked up to the door. Hawk stood. The rest of the crew walked in. Hawk wondered what the commander would think of Ashron and Wolf. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man demanded that only the humans go planetside. An uncomfortable memory tried to surface, a flash of another place where the non-humans stayed behind, resulting in disaster. Hawk quickly pushed it down.

  “Commander,” Hawk said, again offering his killer grin. “Allow me to introduce—”

  “Thank you,” the commander said. “I will handle this.” His gaze took in the crew. “Who are the Professors?”

  Laura stepped forward. “Doctor Laura Benzing at your service.” She offered her hand and received the same repulsed sneer that greeted Hawk.

  “And what exactly are you a Doctor of?”

  “Socio-anthropology and medicine.”

  “Your credentials, please.”

  Laura produced the forged documents and handed them over. The commander studied them at length.

  After five minutes passed, Hawk said, “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “These documents are forged.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Laura said.

  “These are forged documents,” the commander repeated. “You are no more a doctor than I am.”

  “I can easily believe you are not a doctor,” Laura said with ice in her voice, “but I can assure you I have been one for ten years, and have studied planets far more important than this one. As you can see, I have unrestricted access to all planets in my field of study. Are you aware of what the penalty is for obstruction of that privilege?”