Ace of Thralls (Freelance Courier Book 3)

by Lawrence M. Schoen

“You understand me precisely.”

  “I don’t think I do. You don’t dispute that all of this once belonged to the Bwill back when they were colonizing this part of space — and doing so without the benefit of portals, crossing the distance between stars without benefit of transitioning.”

  “Yes—”

  “So clearly possession of a portal wasn’t necessary for you to accept their claim.”

  “As I said, they relinquished their claim when they ceased to inhabit the worlds of this system.”

  “Right, right, I get that, but Cliveden don’t live here either. So by your own arguments, you don’t really have a claim. The area is up for grabs and that’s unlikely to change because none of the planets in this system are habitable anymore.”

  “This moon is quite habitable.”

  “Which brings me back to another question. How is it you happen to be here? It’s almost like you were waiting for us.”

  “I was,” said Manager Srin.

  “You were?”

  “Not necessarily you specifically, but as I said, everything in this system is mine, and I keep tabs on what is mine, simply as a security precaution. Over the past several years there have been repeated indications of activity around the moons of this planet, activity that would appear to perhaps be a small vessel, one which appeared and vanished without accessing my portal. Once or twice could have been a fluke, a malfunction of my sensor array, and given the amount of debris in this system that seemed likely. But again, in the interest of pragmatic reasoning, I embarked on a more thorough survey of the planet and its moons, something which has not occurred since my forebears first positioned the portal here millennia ago. Imagine my surprise when this moon, which that previous survey had listed as a mostly lifeless ball of raging dust storms, had managed in such a short time to become the pleasant worldlet we stand upon today. That development suggested to me that someone else had discovered the change as well.”

  “You’ve been sitting here waiting for that someone to return.”

  Srin nodded. “My management duties in this system do not depend on a specific location. I simply moved my working office to this moon and proceeded with my daily responsibilities, all the while scanning for potential arrivals. Today my patience has been rewarded.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do. For here you are on my moon.”

  “But the moon is uninhabited, and so you have no claim.”

  “Of course it’s inhabited,” said Srin. “As I just told you, I moved my office here. I am this moon’s inhabitant.”

  “And yet you’re only here because you had hints that someone else had come here first. Do I understand that correctly?”

  “You do.”

  “Then surely that individual — or individuals — have the prior claim. They were living here before you.”

  “I see where you are going with this but… they left.”

  “Did they? Or did they depart temporarily, unlike the Bwill who abandoned this system, leaving behind or destroying everything they’d made here.”

  “You are playing a child’s game. You see no signs of destruction because your hypothetical inhabitants never built anything. And as such, it could be argued never inhabited this moon.”

  “And you have? Built something, I mean, because my scans show nothing. No power signatures, no structures. Nothing to suggest even a colony. So again, by your own arguments, your claim of inhabiting the moon is void.”

  Srin revealed his teeth once again, but the gleam in his pure black eyes struck Gel as more adversarial than humorous. “Let us switch to a different topic for a moment.”

  “Certainly. Do you have something specific in mind?”

  “I do. A different question. How is it you come to be on this moon?”

  Gel lifted her arm and gestured with one thumb pointing back over your shoulder. “You can see my ship, right?”

  “Indeed, I can. A Colian Thistler, yes? I like to consider myself something of an expert on ships, but I’m sure you can see how that would follow from managing a portal.”

  Gel nodded. “That does make a certain amount of sense.”

  “Thank you. Which is why I receive daily updates of ship movements. It is a common thing, shared automatically among portals, both those held by the Cliveden as well as others throughout the galaxy. I ran the code from your ship’s transponder beacon through that database. Do you know what I found?”

  “I couldn’t begin to imagine,’” said Gel.

  “Do not be droll, little human. I found that your vessel had last been parked at a station above Finiskifel — a notable destination — and has since transited through multiple portals, the most recent being one found in the Randee system. Do you dispute any of that?”

  Gel shrugged, a gesture, which the Cliveden seemed to understand, likely as part of his training interacting with lesser sapients. “You say it’s part of a fairly public record. I see no point in denying it.”

  “How then are you here?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Even taking the most direct route from one of the portals available near Randee, it would take you many days and many additional transitions to arrive at my portal and enter this system.”

  “Surely that same public record shows that days have passed since I was last in the Randee system.”

  “They have, but not enough. Nor are there records of your vessel taking such a route. And even if you disabled your transponder or somehow scrubbed it from the record, there is nothing to account for the added time you would have spent upon transiting to this system and then making your way to the planet above us and arriving upon this moon.”

  “Your point?”

  “I have two. First, that it would be impossible for you to be here so quickly given your last known location.”

  “This could be a translation issue,” said Gel.

  “Oh?”

  “What you describe as impossible must surely be possible.”

  “And why is that?”

  Gel looked around. “Because I’m here.”

  “Indeed. Which also brings up my second point.”

  “Yes?”

  “There is no record of your vessel, or any other, passing through my portal in hundreds of days. Likewise, no charge to any accounts associated with your vessel for utilizing my portal, and there is no other way in or out of this star system, save by going through my portal.”

  “And again,” said Gel, “surely the evidence of your own eyes might suggest to you that your assessment is either wrong or, at best, incomplete.”

  “If that is so, how is it you are here?”

  “I’m a courier,” said Gel. “You already verified that by reviewing the listings of the many portals I have traveled through in the past year.”

  “I have.”

  “And often the most important thing to occur to someone running a courier operation — the thing that makes them viable — is being able to go from start point to finish more quickly than their competition.”

  “There are hard limits to such things,” said Srin.

  “Maybe.” Gel hesitated before continuing. “And maybe not. Perhaps there are factors of which you are unaware.”

  From the corner of her eye, Gel saw Aushthack stiffen, but having adopted the role of a witnessing Clarkeson he managed to remain silent.

  “What kind of factors?”

  “I’m not at liberty to elaborate, but I can tell you that I am field-testing an experimental prototype that, when used in conjunction with established portals, can greatly reduce travel time.”

  “Why have I, someone whose entire life has been dedicated to managing a portal, not heard of this?”

  “As I said, field-testing. Experimental. Prototype. Surely none of these words suggest to you that we’re ready to go public yet.”

  Srin turned his attention back to the faux Clarkeson. “Is that why your companion is here, to observe this prototype in action? To witness the disruption suc
h a device would have on the portal network? Portions of it are nearly as old as the galaxy itself.”

  Gel answered the question with a question. “Can you think of a better place, a better thing, for a Clarkeson to observe?”

  Srin glared at her, his lips pressed tightly together, eyes boring into her intently. “I wouldn’t be inclined to consider everything you have told me to be an utter and colossal fabrication, except for two things.”

  “Yes?”

  “The presence of a Clarkeson corroborates the significance of such an event, and yes, most pragmatically, your actual presence here.”

  “Thank you,” said Gel.

  “Now leave.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I do not accept your arguments as regards this place, either that my possession of this moon is void, or that you have a prior claim to it.”

  “I get that, but—”

  “If you leave now, I will consider your presence here a misunderstanding. Go and do so by whatever means brought you here. Should you choose to remain I will consider you a trespasser and in violation of the licensing agreements associated with our portal and its use.”

  “You’ve already acknowledged that I haven’t used your portal.”

  “Yes, but as there is no known alternative means for you to be here, the simplest explanation given your obvious presence is a malfunction in detecting your passage through it.”

  “Occam’s razor,” Gel muttered and then nodded. “Very well. We’ll take our leave, but I assure you, I’ll be back.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “To press my claim to this moon.”

  The Problem of Novelty

  Gel led Aushthack back aboard Tiggly and withdrew the ramp. As Srin reboarded his crawler and withdrew to a safer distance, she ran through a checklist in preparation for departure and then nodded to the Tosh who was sitting alongside her on the bridge.

  “This makes no sense,” he said. “If you leave, he’ll see how we came”

  “If we stay, we’re at a stalemate, one which Srin can end by summoning reinforcements through his portal. But don’t worry, I’m going to take us up and out beyond the orbit of any of the gas giant’s moons and then swing us around as if we’re heading back to Danita, and in doing so I’ll put the bulk of the planet and as many of the other moons between us and your future home.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then Tiggly will execute a very sharp turn and plunge us into the atmosphere of the planet. We’ll hang out there for a few days, just to make sure Srin doesn’t have any hardware that’s following us. Then we’ll use the Clarkeson portal to go wend our way back to that megaplex of portals we passed through to get here.”

  “And then what?”

  “By the time we get there, I hope we’ll work through what I see as the two problems to your plans.”

  “Two problems?”

  “Yes. Obviously your ill-advised intention of shutting down Srin’s portal is off the table. Even if you were to maroon Srin on this side of it, we can’t know that he hasn’t left records of his suspicions, or added to them with a recording of our encounter just now.”

  “You think he made a recording without informing us of it.”

  Gel sighed. “Remember the initial premise: Cliveden are assholes. Of course he made a recording. There’s no downside for him.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, problem number one isn’t simply removing the portal that grants access to this star system, it’s removing the incentive Manager Srin has to retain possession of that star system, and the shiny new and habitable moon in the midst of the ruins and destruction of a former Bwill colony system represents a unique opportunity for him.”

  “Why? The Cliveden don’t colonize outside of their home system.”

  “No, but they profit by levying a toll to any other races who use their portals and run a near perfect monopoly on passengers aboard ships who use them for transit. With the proper marketing, a shiny new inhabitable moon floating amidst the ruins and desolation of a former Bwill colony system is a powerful tourist trap.”

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason the Clarkesons that are out here have become so meddlesome. Novelty.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Most of the races running around the galaxy have been doing so for a long time now. They’ve expanded their spheres of influence to whatever limits they chose and stopped. They trade with one another and, for the most part, want for nothing, with one exception.”

  “This makes no sense. I have been interacting with multiple races since leaving my homeworld, and I have seen no indication of a collective yearn like you describe.”

  “That’s probably because everyone you met assumed you were a Clarkeson, and they’ve got it worse than anyone. They crave novelty.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Humans, my people, have only recently joined the galactic collective. We’re still expanding the boundaries of Human space. Everything on our homeworld is new and fresh, making us the darlings of many of the galaxy’s older races. We’re less predictable, something they’ve never seen before. We’re an entertainment to them, making the same kinds of basic mistakes every newly discovered race is prone to, but there haven’t been any new ones in a long while.”

  “Is that what drew Randolv Greyce to you?”

  “I’m sure that was part of it,” said Gel. “My point is, if I’m aware of these factors and the potential they represent as relates to your moon, then the Cliveden, who base most of their economy on the use of their portals, will be aware of it as well. Let’s assume Srin gets a percentage for any fees incurred by vessels using his portal.”

  “He would profit greatly, if your supposition of tourism holds true.”

  “Right, so he’s not apt to give that up, unless we can offer him something even better.”

  “Such as?”

  Gel shrugged? “Well, the obvious answer is access to a colony made up exclusively of thralls escaping Clarkeson domination.”

  “I don’t simply seek escape for my people. We want to be left alone to develop our own identity, culture, customs.”

  “Right. So, galactic zoo exhibit doesn’t fit in with those plants. We’ll need to come up with something else. But at the moment I don’t have any ideas.”

  “What’s the other problem? You said there were two.”

  “You want to move ten million of your people off the Clarkeson homeworld?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Colony ships,” said Aushthack. “A lot of them, but still. It’s doable. And the fabrication equipment exists.”

  “Colony ships are too big to build on a planet.”

  “Well, of course. Everyone knows that. What I meant was fabrication equipment to build a dock in orbit above the Clarkeson homeworld exists. We can carry materials up from the surface, and as those vessels go online, we’ll load them with passengers, who become our first wave of colonists.”

  “You’ve been planning for this.”

  “I’ve thought of little else in the last few years.”

  “But you overlooked a significant problem. Obviously you don’t want to use existing portals to get to your moon.”

  “Of course not. That would leave a trail. But we can arrive there much as you just did.”

  “Through a Clarkeson hidden portal that exits onto this system.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Those portals aren’t the same as those found in the galactic network?”

  “They most certainly are. They operate by the same principles.”

  “Principles, yes. Specifications, no.”

  “I’m not following that.”

  “I’ll spell it out for you, Aushthack. They’re too small. They were designed for a Clarkeson consortium traveling alone in a small ship. The network of hidden portals is a fraction of the size of the galaxy’s network. I haven’t seen
the blueprints of your colony ship, but I’m guessing they’re too big to thread their way through any Clarkeson portal.”

  “I admit it may be a near thing.”

  “Did you factor in the influence of the gas giants containing the portals?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The atmosphere where the portals exist is turbulent at best. Small vessels like Tiggly can make it through easily enough because they can aim for the center of a portal and have a large margin of error if they get buffeted from side to side. Your colony ships, even if they fit, won’t have any such tolerances.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.”

  “Well, you need to because as I see it, it’s an unworkable plan. You want to move ten million people. Even if you pare that down to a million per ship, you’re still building ten massive ships which you now need to reconsider designing so they’ll fit.”

  “I don’t need ten ships. I can build one and have it make multiple trips to and from the moon.”

  “You could, and it might work, at least for a few trips.”

  “Why do you say only a few trips?”

  “Don’t think your Clarkeson overlords are going to start to notice when you begin siphoning off millions of their servants? When they do, well, you’ve already said how enthralled you are to them, biologically conditioned to obey. It sounds like you’re gonna have a hard enough time recruiting your people from the Clarkesons while their masters are distracted, but as soon as even one consortium realizes even part of what you’re doing, all they have to do is tell your people not to leave and your whole plan unravels.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Gel didn’t let him interrupt. “In fact, the only thing that gives it the potential to work, at least as I see it, is that leaving was never an option before so the Clarkesons never established a prohibition against it.”

  “Then, what? You’re saying regardless of how I resolve the ownership of the moon with Master Manager Srin and the Cliveden, all of that could be moot because it’s looking less and less likely that I can even move my people off the Clarkeson homeworld.”

  “I didn’t say that. In fact, I can think of one way to do it, but it’s… well, for lack of a better term, theoretical.”