As I struggled toward consciousness, my first sensation was of overwhelming cold. The next was the smell and, yes, the sour taste of vomit.
I shook my head to clear it, and instantly regretted the action as the movement touched off a severe pounding. I groaned and cursed as I tried to examine my surroundings without moving my aching head.
The massive unpainted gray duracrete walls and barred grates, together with the uncomfortable cold, told me everything I needed to know. Jail, or whatever they called it on Haven. Depressed as I was about being in jail, it was as nothing to the knowledge that I was on Haven.
Weak sunlight did its feeble best to pour through the small, barred window. Haven is hardly the vacation spot of known space. Oh, it's about average size for a man-settled planet, and its gravity is only. 92 of standard. Unfortunately, though, while the system's primary is a class G0 dwarf, the same class as Prime's, Haven is slightly farther from it. More importantly, for the last thousand years or so, Haven has been emerging from an ice age. The glaciers have retreated enough that slightly over half the land between the poles and the equator are ice-free, at least part of the year. At the poles it's uninhabitable.
Man wouldn't have bothered with a world like Haven except for two things. First, the system hosts no less than four jump points. Second, it's the rim system nearest the rest of the Empire.
The first point guaranteed that Haven's system would become a major recalibration point for transiting starships. Such a busy transit point would inevitably develop into a trading hub, and Haven was habitable, barely. Even counting the expense of coping with the extreme climate, it was still cheaper to settle the planet than to build an orbiting space station big enough to serve such a hub. So a few hardy souls, mostly employees of the trading combines, came to Haven. They poured low, massive, ugly, super-insulated duracrete buildings to withstand the incredible storms, and settled in to stay.
The second point was why Haven was home to more than just a few traders and chandlers: someone with a nasty sense of humor selected Haven to be the capitol of the Rim Sector. Or perhaps it was just some bureaucrat who learned Haven was physically closest of the rim planets to the rest of the Empire, and didn't know, or didn't care, about its climate.
At any rate, Haven is now home to several million people. I'd never be one of them, though. I hate the cold.
That partly explained why I was in jail. From the surface, Haven City just looked like a cluster of huge, featureless gray domes, interspersed with a few more conventional buildings half buried in snow. But all those domes were interconnected by duracrete tunnels, and a lot of Haven City is underground. In contrast to the colorless ugliness of the surface, Haveners decorate the interiors of the tunnels and buildings in blindingly bright, sometimes garish, colors and patterns matched only by their equally garish clothing styles.
Of course, with the lack of outside amusements, they had come up with an amazing variety of indoor activities, many of which included or featured liquid refreshment. Alcoholic liquid refreshment.
Since I left the Empire Fleet some ten years ago, drinking and bar brawls had become increasingly important parts of my recreational activities. Hari, my engineer and best friend, was beginning to nag me unmercifully about it. But no matter how often I told him, he just didn't seem to understand that drinking helped blur the faces and drown the memories…
Metallic clanks that reverberated in my aching head announced the arrival of my jailer, accompanied by Hari. If I hadn't been so miserable, I probably would have snickered at the appearance they made. The jailer was short and stout, almost as wide as he was tall. His greasy black hair and blue chin lent him an apelike appearance. He barely came up to Hari's chest.
Hari was almost a comical opposite. Two meters tall, Hari is skinny, looking almost emaciated. His white hair is so thin as to be nearly invisible at any distance, which gives his head a skull-like appearance. Add to this the fact that Hari spends very little of his time off our ship, the Valkyrie, and his paleness instantly brings to mind a corpse.
But Hari is also undoubtedly the best engineer I've ever met. He has an instinctive feel that seems to let him know in advance if something is going to happen to the old bitch. He also saved my life.
When I dropped off my resignation letter and fled the Fleet, I was verging on suicidal. Hari resigned his commission to come with me. He nursed me through the nightmares and the sometimes-monumental drunks. He talked me through the depressions. He's my best — okay, only — friend.
Right now, though, he didn't look it. Now, Hari's pale cheeks blazed an angry red. His expression was grim.
I sat up on the bunk, suppressing a wince at the roaring pain in my head. I tried to greet him, but all that came out was a wordless croak. I swallowed, and almost gagged at the sour taste of bile.
Hari just shook his head in furious frustration as his gaze swept over my unshaven, vomit-stained person. Finally, he sighed deeply. "All right, let him out." His gravelly bass voice was, as always, a surprise, coming from that thin body.
The jailer shrugged and applied the key strip to the cell's lock. The door slid open. I rose unsteadily, and gathering what I could of my tattered dignity, walked out of the cell.
As I retrieved my belongings from the jailer I heard the desk sergeant tell Hari, "Drunk 'n disorderly, assault 'n batt'ry, assaultin' police officers. We'll send the damage bill out to yer ship. Don't try t' lift off 'til it's paid, 'r you'll both be in here." Hari nodded, glaring at me. While Hari was still dealing with the financial matters, I slipped into the 'fresher to make myself more presentable.
The image in the mirror didn't make me feel any better. I grimaced and scraped what I could of the dried vomit from my rumpled, creased uniform. A wetted towel got most of the rest. I couldn't depilate, and my chin and cheeks were darkly shadowed. I resolved to try to stay downwind of everyone. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to banish some of the sallowness from my skin, the bleariness from my eyes. I didn't have notable success, but the splash of cold water did wash most of the cobwebs from my brain.
At least I didn't have to worry about a tangled mass of hair. Habit forged in the imperial marines had kept my hair only about a centimeter in length. I ran my fingers through it to give it a semblance of order. I examined myself again, and came to the reluctant conclusion that I'd done all I could. It would have to do until I could get to a 'fresher back aboard Valkyrie.
Hari was waiting when I left the 'fresher, his thunderous expression radiating disapproval. We started for the jail's door, and he started.
"Damn it, Val, this has to stop. You're getting as bad as Con!"
I winced at that. Con Wiler was Valkyrie's Astrogator. He was also the shallowest human I've ever known. He had an amazingly large collection of porn vids, and spent nearly all his in-space time in his stateroom, immersed in them. When grounded, Con spent all his time and all his money on port bars and port prostitutes. He was always drinking, drunk, or hung over. He didn't enjoy bar brawls, but he often bore evidence of the anger of boyfriends, husbands, or fathers.
"Don't be silly, Hari," I replied, stung. "It's only once in a while." I tried a weak smile. "And at least I'm not chasing women."
The smile didn't work. Hari just shook his head in exasperation. He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it as two men walked up.
The blinding colors of their clothing contrasted with their colorlessness. They were completely average. Average height, average weight, average hair color, average everything.
One produced a badge case. "Captain Val Kedron of Valkyrie?" He asked in a disinterested tone. At my nod, he continued, "Imperial Security Service. Would you and Mr. Carlon come with us, please?"
It was like a sudden ice water bath. Cops and jails are one thing. ISS is another entirely. Suddenly I was dead sober — and scared. The ISS spends most of its time pursuing terrorists and threats against the Empire. The rest of their time is devoted to the protection of the Emperor and other high imperial officials. They have incredible powers, and are responsible only to the Director of Imperial Security on Prime.
We were both so dumbfounded and so intimidated that we didn't even question the men; we just went meekly along. When we headed down the tunnel toward the dome that held only the Viceroy's palace, I swallowed loudly. It looked like we were in big trouble. Hari's face could have been carved from stone.
The man who rose to greet me didn't look intimidating. He was of average height and middle-aged. Slim and elegant, he was conservatively well dressed, a novelty on Haven. His face was darkly handsome, undoubtedly the result of expensive body sculpting. If anything, he most resembled an aging vid star playing an imperial courtier. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, missing nothing. I flushed, remembering my unkempt appearance.
"Thank you for coming, Captain. I'm Sander Cord, Viceroy of the Rim Sector." His smile appeared genuine and welcoming, but that didn't reassure me.
I'd heard of Cord, of course. Everyone has. How he was the son of one of the Imperial Prince's tutors. How the old Emperor had decided the Prince needed a companion his own age, and how Cord had literally been raised in the palace with the Prince, now Eron XXIV, Emperor of Humanity. Dozens of vids have been written and produced portraying Cord as everything from a gallant hero who rose from obscurity to become the Emperor's only true friend, to a villainous opportunist blackmailing his way to power. I really hadn't formed an opinion, though I suspected the truth was somewhere in between.
"I appear to have caught you at an unfortunate moment," he continued. His voice was a mellow and trained baritone, his accent pure upper-class innerworld.
I could feel warmth crawl over my face. I began to mutter an apology, but he waved it off. "Don't worry, Captain. I don't base my judgments of people on their appearance. I'm much more concerned with who they are than who they appear to be." He straightened, and his manner became businesslike. "I need you, Captain. And you, Mr. Carlon. And I need your ship."
That surprised me. "What in space would a Sector Viceroy need with a couple of broken-down old free traders and a ninety-year old ship?"
The smile didn't waver. "Now, now, Captain. You can hardly be called 'broken-down'. I still have access to Empire Intelligence, you know." He dropped a record chip into the reader slot on his desk.
"Let's see now. Kedron, Val. Native of Solaris IV. Graduated Fleet Academy with honors, 2842AE. Assigned… well, I'm not going to go through your entire service record. Resigned 2859AE, at rank of Lieutenant Colonel of Marines." He paused. "Immediately after the withdrawal from Haskins' World."
I winced at the reminder. "Yeah," I replied dully. That was one subject I didn't want to discuss. I'd been living with the nightmares for ten years.
He shook his head and sighed. "The Fleet lost some of its best people because of Haskins' World. You heard about Admiral Dunstan?" I nodded, and he continued. "Let's see, completed Strategy and Tactics at the Imperial War College with honors. A two-year course, is it not?"
I nodded again. I had a feeling I knew what was coming, and wasn't going to like it.
"Completed Ship Operations, Navigation, and Jump Theory. It appears you were on what they call the fast track to a flag. That's the usual reason for sending a Marine to Ship Ops."
I nodded again. I really didn't like this conversation. This guy knew entirely too much about military matters for a sycophantic politician. Flag rank is only conferred on officers who have commanded both a warship and marines on the ground in combat. "I was in receipt of orders to take command of a destroyer when I blew it on Haskins' World," I admitted. "I resigned as soon as I got back to the Aigash Kai, before they could court-martial me."
He looked puzzled. "Court-martial? There's nothing in your service record regarding a possible court-martial." His face cleared, and he stared at me intensely. "Could it possibly be you don't know, Captain? Didn't you read the reports of the investigating team?"
I shook my head nervously. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead and palms. "I had just lost more than half of my command. I didn't need a bunch of bureaucrats from Prime to tell me I'd screwed up. Two days after we reached the Kai, Hari and I hitched a ride on a supply ship to Aragon II. We bought the old Valkyrie, signed on an Astrogator and Comm Officer on shares, and never looked back." I glared at him. "We're still not looking back."
Cord had a wondering expression on his face. "Gods, you really don't know! General Stilkis was the one who'd have been court-martialed, if he'd survived. The investigation not only cleared you, it praised your performance in the face of overwhelming odds. Admiral Dunstan put a note in your service record to the effect that he'd have recommended you for the Empire Star, if you hadn't bailed out so quickly. He said that…" Cord glanced at the screen.".. Colonel Kedron was almost solely responsible for our ability to extract all the nuclear and heavy weapons, and nearly six thousand Fleet personnel. Despite poor decisions by superior officers and casualties of more than sixty percent, Colonel Kedron was able to maintain unit cohesion and made it possible for the fleet to accomplish an effective evacuation, instead of a confused debacle." Cord raised his eyes to me. "I'm honored to be the one to tell you this, Captain. When the Fleet invaded and recaptured Haskins' World, it was largely due to your efforts that they didn't have to face nukes. Thousands of men and women owe you their lives."
It was my turn to stare.
"Hah!" Hari crowed. "I told you Fleet HQ wasn't stupid enough to blame you! The Empire Star!" He looked impressed.
"But I lost more than half my command!" I protested weakly. "Almost a thousand people died because of me!" I was reeling. On the one hand, I was absolved of the guilt I'd carried around for more than ten years. On the other hand, I was beginning to realize I'd given up a career I loved simply because I was depressed over taking heavy casualties.
Cord smiled gently. "Those men died so many thousands more might live. You bear no guilt, Captain. Quite the contrary." He straightened and his smile widened. "So you are neither 'broken down' nor simply a free trader." He turned to Hari. "And I believe you have a military background, as well, Mr. Carlon."
Hari nodded warily.
I shrugged. If Cord had my record, he certainly had Hari's. "Hari was a Fleet Commander, Engineering Officer on the Osiris." I was regaining my equilibrium. "Now, can we get down to what this is all about?"
A slight frown crossed his features as he looked at me appraisingly. Then, as though he'd decided something, he turned to the ISS men and waved them out.
"Very well, Captain," he began when we were alone. "I suppose I should start with the most basic fact, the one that has guided my efforts for the last thirty years." He looked as though he wanted to say more, to emphasize the strength of his feelings even more, but couldn't find the words. Finally, he just shrugged. "You see, Captain, the Empire has been in decline since the Horsehead Rebellion, and even the most optimistic estimates say it will collapse completely within three hundred years."
He didn't look upset at my involuntary snort of derision, but I was furious with myself for my lack of control. I was casting frantically about for a reply when Hari said, "And what are the most pessimistic estimates?"
Cord jumped to his feet and began pacing. "The three-hundred-year estimate is valid only if everyone is doing their best to retard the fall." He said grimly. "The most pessimistic scenarios give us less than a century. In fact, if worse comes to worst, the fall could come in our lifetimes."
I was speechless. I mean, the Empire covers over a million star systems. Twenty thousand of those systems are inhabited. The Empire has flourished for more than three thousand years. To be told that the Horsehead Rebellion had actually succeeded in destroying it…
All Empires are cursed with occasional revolutions and rebellions. Nevertheless, some four hundred years ago, the entire Horsehead sector rebelled. It was a hard fight, but the rebellion was put down, and the leaders executed. I mentioned this to Cord.
He simply shrugged. "True, but suppressing the revolt cost the Empire dearly. By the time it succeeded, the Empire's resources were overstretched. The Empire could no longer afford to expand.
"Just as importantly," he continued, still pacing, "the Emperor had been badly scared. Robur XII and his descendants took extreme measures to insure the Empire's security. Among other things, they began discouraging original thought and scientific advancement. Their intervention was enough to tip the scales. The Empire has been in a slow but definite decline ever since."
He sighed. "It's only become noticeable during the past century; and even so, I only learned of it by accident, when I was researching an economics paper on the imperial palace's comps."
"You seem awfully calm about this." I observed. "Why aren't you working to save the Empire?"
Cord shrugged. "It's too late. There's too much inertia. All I can hope to do is try to delay the fall and keep civilization going in a small part of the galaxy. I've been working on it for the past thirty years."
I wished he'd stop pacing and sit down. I also wished he'd just tell me what all this had to do with my crew, the Valkyrie, and me. I was about to interrupt him when I realized that he needed to tell us all this.
For over thirty years, he'd been forced to be a solitary plotter, unable to confide even in his closest friend — because his closest friend was the Emperor. Now, some circumstance was forcing him to reveal his machinations. I'm not sure he realized how glad he was to share his burden, even with strangers.
All right, I thought, I'll let him ramble awhile. But he'd better get to the point soon. I turned my ears back on as he continued.
When he ascended the throne, Eron named Cord one of his advisors. It hadn't been easy to thread a course between courtiers and their petty intrigues, and the ambitious with their plots. But Cord did it. Finally, when the old Viceroy of the Rim sector asked to retire, Cord knew the time was right. He helped the ISS break up a planned coup. The Emperor was grateful, and offered Cord his choice of three sectors. Eron XXIV was a bit surprised when Cord chose the Rim sector. It is neither as large as the Sirius sector, nor as wealthy as the Horsehead sector. But Cord had determined that it had to be the rim.
It irritated me, but I had to ask. "Why did it have to be the rim?"
He shrugged distractedly, and I realized he hadn't been fishing for the question, he'd simply assumed it was obvious. "The rim is a long way from Prime. It's man's furthest penetration into the universe. Out here, man can't afford to become decadent. Out here, the decadent don't survive."
For the past twelve years Cord, as Sector Viceroy, had been quietly pursuing his plan for the survival of civilization. The Rim was now nearly as prosperous as the Horsehead sector, though Cord went to considerable pains to conceal this. Every report going back to Prime said that the Rim sector cost the Empire more than it contributed. Everything emphasized that the Empire would be better served by cutting the rim loose. I started to mention that such behavior has a name: treason. Then I remembered the ISS men in the hall outside, and kept silent.
Cord had been reinforcing his recommendation at every opportunity, in person and through agents on Prime. Finally, The Emperor and the most influential senators agreed, and had quietly decided to disown the rim. It was Cord's moment of triumph. Oh, he'd still have to conceal their progress for a while, until the Empire's decline made it less of a threat, but he was on his way.
Now we were getting to it. "Exactly what do you mean by 'disown the rim'?" I didn't even try to conceal the suspicion in my tone.
Cord stopped pacing, and resumed his seat. He simply stared at me for a moment. Suddenly he relaxed, and a genuine grin lit his face. "No, Captain. I'm not fomenting another rebellion. If you know anything at all about me, you know that I have a reputation for loyalty to the Empire and His Imperial Majesty that many have called 'fanatical'."
He sobered. "To answer your question, the Emperor is planning to turn the Rim sector over to me. Oh, it will be promoted as a 'bold experiment in local autonomy', but that's what it amounts to. I'm even to be given the Empire Fleet base on Thaeron and the rather large task force based there. The Empire is shedding responsibility for the rim, and aside from a nominal oath of fealty, the rim will owe the Empire nothing. We will be on our own."
I frowned. "So you want me to do what? Take over that Fleet base you mentioned and run it for you?"
He shook his head. "Nothing so easy. I want you to defend the rim against the man who commands it now. Rear Admiral Micah Jonas." The grin flared again. "I understand you know him."
"I know him," I replied sourly. "I don't like him, and he doesn't like me. But he's nothing but a spoiled playboy. How much trouble could he cause?"
Cord frowned. "A lot, unfortunately. He commands all Fleet forces in the sector. The entire Thaeron system belongs to the Fleet. They have a large maintenance facility on the fourth planet, and a very powerful battle group home ported there. We're beginning to get indications that Jonas is aware of the plan to release the rim, and is planning some action. We suspect he plans to seize the sector."
I shook my head. "That doesn't sound like the Jonas I know. I mean, he's not stupid, but he's shrewd rather than intelligent, and tends to substitute ruthlessness for imagination. But he's a complete hedonist. His whole life has been devoted to pleasure. I can't imagine him having the drive or the desire to foment a rebellion."
"I hope you're right," Cord replied. "Most of my reports agree with your opinion. But something happened at his last assignment. I gather that a group of his officers conspired with a criminal syndicate to practically steal Jonas' base from under him. Fleet Admiral Chu-Lo wanted to court-martial him, but it seems there's no such charge as criminal stupidity. He couldn't even fire Jonas…"
"… Because his name is Jonas," I finished for him.
Cord nodded. "Exactly. One does not lightly offend one of the most powerful families in the Empire. The Fleet Admiral had to be content with transferring Jonas to the rim."
I laughed aloud. "To Jonas, that would be almost as bad as a court-martial. As far as he's concerned, Prime is the center of the universe. I'd bet he thinks he's been banished to the back of nowhere."
Cord nodded. "He's been out here for six years, and has hated every moment of it." His frown returned. "But there's something else. The family was very embarrassed by Jonas' stupidity. There are reports that he's been effectively cut off from the family's wealth and power. Yet somehow he manages to maintain his rather, uh, lavish lifestyle. Rumors are starting to circulate that Jonas has gotten himself involved in criminal activities." He held up a hand. "Nothing we can verify yet," he continued hurriedly, "Just rumors."
I frowned. I still didn't see the problem. Cord was a Sector Viceroy. Aside from the Emperor himself, Viceroys are the most powerful men in the Empire. I shuddered, and it wasn't just the cold of the room. Most Sector Viceroys were idiots and sycophants. Even so
… "Why don't you just have the Emperor recall Jonas before the release? Or, why not have him assassinated? Surely a Sector Viceroy has spooks or security people that would be happy to oblige."
He winced. "You're correct, of course, and such an operation is underway. Unfortunately, I'm not sure we can get to him in time. He's being very cautious. At this moment, he's sitting aboard a dreadnought, busily dreaming up excuses for not joining me here as I've requested, and suborning his chain of command. There have already been a few fatal accidents among his staff-level officers. As for your first question, the Emperor doesn't want him back. Disowned or not, even the Emperor has to be careful about offending one of the most influential and powerful families in the Empire."
He held up his hand to forestall my interruption. "In other words, the Emperor considers Jonas my problem, and expects me to handle it. That's where you come in. I want you to defend the rim against Jonas and his plot, whatever it may be."
I was puzzled. "I still don't understand. Why me? Why not Jonas' second in command? Or the captain of that dreadnought? Surely not everyone is in on the plot."
He shrugged. "True, of course. Unfortunately, military people assigned to frontier posts tend to become insular. I haven't time to have my intelligence people clear all the officers in the chain of command. I need someone from outside, a proven leader, someone familiar with both space and ground-based strategy and tactics, and finally, someone who won't be tempted to seize power himself." The practiced smile became a wide, genuine grin. "Your arrival on Haven was the best news I'd had in weeks. Coups can be very expensive, in both materiel and people, and I can afford to waste neither."
I was doubtful. "So, all you want me to do is go to Thaeron and relieve Jonas of command? What will you do after he has me shot as an imposter? Find another sucker?"
The grin flashed again. I was beginning to like Cord. "No," he replied, "I don't expect you to go to Thaeron, at least not yet. As soon as we announce his dismissal, we'll touch off the coup. Right now, I, we, need time. We have to prepare for the worst. I want you to begin assembling an armed force, and designing strategies and tactics for resisting the coup when it comes, assuming that Jonas will have the full strength of his forces."
"And if I refuse your generous offer?" I asked.
The smile disappeared. "No, Captain," He said quietly, "No threats. It'd be silly to try to draft you against your will. You and your crew will simply be interned here on Haven for the duration."
"And Valkyrie?"
He shrugged. "I don't know yet who he will be, but my second choice will need a Command and Control ship, and yours is large enough to hold all the comm gear that entails. Besides, her plans are on file, and have already been sent to the Chilson Shipyard on Outback. They are ready to install all the weaponry removed when she was decommissioned, and do the necessary modifications for C amp;C.
"So, Captain, your choices come to this: I can activate your Fleet Marine commission and promote you to Commodore, or you can sit on your butt here on Haven. You can even join Jonas, if you wish. At any rate, no harm will come to you. But I need your ship almost as badly as I need you."
I was furious. "I do not respond well…"
"NO!" Hari shouted, startling me.
"I'm sorry, Val," Hari continued, "But you were about to refuse for both of us. You command Valkyrie and her crew, but this decision has to be an individual one." He turned to Cord.
"You are not the only one to notice the decline of the Empire, Viceroy. Actually, there's quite a body of literature on the subject. I've also noticed the dynamism that you've fostered on the rim. If you need me, I'll be happy to serve, in whatever capacity you find useful." He glanced over at me again. "I really am sorry, Val, but this is right. It needs to be done!"
I was dumbfounded. I knew Hari was a good deal more intelligent than I was, but he usually tended to go along with my decisions. I honestly hadn't even noticed I was usurping his free choice. I obviously owed Hari a big apology later.
Cord switched his attention to Hari without missing a beat. "Certainly, Mr. Carlon. I've seen your record too, you know. I'd hoped you'd agree to help."
My shoulders slumped. I couldn't just leave Hari. In addition, I knew very well that Cord was as good as his word. He would seize Valkyrie, and probably hand her over to some thumb-fingered idiot who would get her destroyed. He knew I wouldn't permit that.
There was also the fact that Jonas had given me the only really negative fitness reports I'd ever received. He considered me an unlettered barbarian, an upstart who dared presume to advance to the higher levels of the Fleet. I considered him a snob and a foppish dilettante. I wasn't surprised to find he'd been shipped off to a frontier system after his political connections got him his second star. It would be fun to bloody his nose a bit.
Finally, Hari was right. If the Empire was indeed crumbling, creating an oasis of civilization was just about the most important job there was.
I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay. I assume you wouldn't need me if you were completely defenseless. What do you have to fight with? And even if Hari and I enlist, that doesn't mean my crew will. What about them?"
Cord nodded. "True. The rest of your crew, though, doesn't have a military background. They should be able to blend into the populace. If you or they prefer, I can buy out their shares and buy them tickets inbound. I'll pay a handsome premium over their shares' value."
I sighed. "I'm being shanghaied and I don't like it, but if your people can convince me we'd have a real chance, say 30/70, I'll do it."
Cord's face split into a wide grin. "Great!" he said, "The palace comp rated the chances of success at 21 % without you, and 32 % with you. Apparently, you even impress comps."
"Wonderful," I growled. "Now, you can impress me by letting me know what I've got to fight with."
The grin didn't waver, but he pressed a button on his desk, and three men entered. Two were obviously security, a 'muttandjeff' team, whatever that was originally. Now, it was a very large man with a thick neck and a battered face, and a very small, thin, foppish companion. The third was equally obviously a spaceman, and out of his element here. He wore a rumpled shipsuit on his pudgy body. His eyes constantly scanned the room. He looked so nervous I had a strong impulse to comfort him.
"Captain Kedron of the Valkyrie, please allow me to present Ralf Tomys, my Security Chief, Jabeth Rawl, his deputy, and Captain Albet Cony of the Rim Trader Too, who has been coordinating the organization of our fleet, such as it is. I'll ask you to go with them to be briefed. As you can imagine, I have a few things to attend to." Before we left his office, though, Cord reactivated my Fleet commission, promoted me to Commodore, and provided me with the various codes, documents, and memory chips I'd need.
We retired under guard to the security head's office, where Tomys apologized to Hari and me for the armed summons. "It was important to make it appear that you'd been arrested. There are a number of Military Intelligence agents on Haven."
Tomys went on to brief us. Since it was important to conceal my involvement with Cord from the Military Intelligence agents infesting Haven, we would be returning to Valkyrie in restraint cord and under guard. The idea was to convince any watching MI agents that we were being thrown off Haven for suspected smuggling. Tomys had arranged official outbound clearances to Galeta in the Omega sector. The idea was to keep the MI agents from noticing that our escort would number six going aboard, but only five disembarking.
The sixth would be Jabeth Rawl, Tomys' deputy. Since Tomys had to remain with Cord, Rawl would serve as my Security Chief, and would brief me on security and planet-based resources. Captain Cony was already scheduled to lift. He was to meet us on a planet called Outback, and assist me with space-based resources. He was also to be my liaison with the free traders of the rim worlds.
We trooped through the frigid Haven afternoon, a freezing wind driving a light snow almost horizontally. Even so, it was hard to miss Valkyrie. Her fat, cylindrical 400-meter body towered twice as high as the few rim tramps on the field. Once aboard, Rawl dismissed the security escort and released our bonds. I eyed him curiously. He was only about 160 centimeters tall and probably massed no more than 50 kilograms. He was dapper, but totally inconspicuous — the kind of man who can disappear into a crowd of three.
Silence dragged. Finally, he said, "Well, Commodore? Shouldn't we be making sail or hauling anchors or getting underway or something?"
His comment broke the ice, and both Hari and I grinned. "Or something," I agreed. Hari chuckled. "I'll get down to Engineering, Capt… uh, Commodore, and start hauling on the anchor."
I shouted at his retreating back to check on our other crewmen, and get them to lift stations. Then I rounded on Rawl. "All right. In a moment, my Astrogator and Comm Officer will come through that hatch, and they know nothing about this whole thing. Since it seems to be important for us to get off-planet, I don't want to spend hours explaining and arguing with them, so I'm simply going to continue this deportation story until we're in space. Cord and Tomys mentioned Outback, so I assume that's where we're going. Is there anything else I need to know before Jax and Con get here?"
Rawl shook his head just as Hari called on the intercom to inform me that Con was passed-out drunk, and wouldn't be doing any astrogating anytime soon, but that Jax, our Comm Officer, was on his way up. In a few moments, a furious Jax came boiling onto the bridge.
Jax was young, nineteen standard years old, seven on his home world of Pascua. He was also new to spacing. This was his second voyage, and he was busy loving every minute of his visits to new planets — even Haven. Jax was tall and gawky. His youthful face was merely typical, and marred by an acne problem that he was fighting valiantly. Somehow, his clothes always seemed a size too small, his shoes a size too large. Even the weathered tan that farm life had given him was beginning to fade. But his features were strong and well formed, giving promise that in a few years, he would be an attractive man. His face was suffused with a simple wholesomeness and lack of guile that inspired confidence. He reminded me of a puppy; he displayed an enthusiasm and a sense of wonder that made the rest of us feel jaded and old.
Now, though, Jax was furious. He glared at Rawl, and then turned to me. "What's going on, Captain? A security squad grabbed me in the middle of a meal, cuffed me, and dragged me back here. A few minutes later, another squad came in carrying Con. All the cops'd say was that my captain would explain!"
I glanced at Rawl. "It seems we're being thrown off Haven. Mr. Rawl, here, is coming along just to make sure we really leave. They seem to have decided we're smugglers. We're going to a planet called 'Outback' to ground while we try to figure out what to do next. You don't have anything to tell me, do you?"
Jax snorted in disgust and turned to his console to complete the liftoff formalities.
By the time Hari had the reaction drives on line, Jax had completed our clearances. Liftoff was uneventful. I began setting up our sublight course and delta-vee to our jump point. With Jax present, I couldn't talk freely with Rawl, but I couldn't think of a way to invite him to leave. His anger took care of the problem for me. As the silence became uncomfortable, Jax glared at both Rawl and me, then jumped up and stamped off the bridge, his fury unabated. Rawl and I exchanged uncomfortable grins.