Archuk had been correct. There were a number of apparently excellent hotels near the field. They agreed upon a rather conservative-looking hotel with what were apparently moderate prices. Cale converted most of his contract check into Angeles crowns, and was impressed by the favorable exchange rate.
They took a hovercab to the hotel, where they registered in separate rooms, agreeing to meet in several hours for dinner.
Cale took a long, slow shower, reveling in the luxury of unlimited water. He frowned at the shipsuit he had been wearing.
No, he decided. Shipsuits were practical, durable garments for the restrictive environment of a sealed ship. But now he was groundside, and would be for at least a couple of weeks. He sat at the room’s terminal, connected to the Worldnet, and began doing some shopping.
He also researched the Kingdom of Angeles.
It seemed to be a pretty good world. Angeles was 99.97 on the habitability scale, the only deduction being for the slightly light gravity of. 87 standard. It had originally been lower than that due to the planet’s lack of climate-inducing moons, but during the terraforming project, the early settlers had moved two large asteroids into position, generating the first tidal forces Angeles had ever known. Over a few centuries, the climate had stabilized nicely. A number of native plant and animal species had been able to adapt to the introduction of terrestrial species, and Angeles hardwoods had been heavy demand in the Empire’s interstellar trade. Angeles had been affected by the Fall, of course. To help prevent overpopulation, the Kingdom had once established three colonies. As the Empire declined, the other three systems had requested and received their independence. The last had seceded only fifty-five years ago. There had been no real intersystem conflicts. If a member of the ‘Commonwealth’ desired to secede, they held a planet-wide referendum on the issue. If the population voted for secession, the planetary government petitioned the kingdom for release. In every case, the Parliament had voted to recommend approval to the monarch, and in every case, independence had been granted. As Atmos XIV declared, “If a majority of their population desires to leave the Commonwealth, we have no desire to thwart their will.” Those three systems were still Angeles’ largest trading partners.
The monarchy itself had existed for over 800 years. As Tess had mentioned, Early on, the royal family had established procedures to insure that only competent, well-trained monarchs ruled Angeles, and they had presided over the development of a prosperous system with a surprising level of personal freedom.
Even in the four hundred years since the Fall, Angeles was one of very few worlds to remain vibrant and prosperous. In self-defense, Angeles had established a sizable defense establishment, and had established a patrolled “security zone” stretching for one jump in every direction. The pirate that chased them, Cale decided, must have been very desperate or very foolish to risk an attack in the Angeles ‘security zone’. This also explained the excitement and action that had followed his report; the Kingdom’s defense forces considered the attack to have taken place in the Kingdom itself.
Cale pushed back from the terminal. Angeles looked like a very nice place. In fact, if Dee decided to debark here, Cale would be hard put to marshal arguments against it. Except for his own strong desires, of course.
But what about his own desires? He was certain he had eluded his pursuers. Oh, he would still have to take precautions, of course. Still, he felt secure enough now to consider settling here.
Could he really settle down? What would he do? He sighed. Suddenly the quiet of the room bothered him. He needed some people around him and a drink in his hand.
He stood up and stretched, realizing he had been on the terminal for over an hour. A sound from the delivery chute announced the arrival of the clothing he had ordered. Male styles on Angeles ran mostly to bright colors and a bewildering array of styles. His wine-red kilt blended well with the muted blue tunic and matched the color of his beret, and was actually rather drab, for Angeles. He was more accustomed to tubular trousers, but decided that the kilt, with its decorative holster and bright-plated blaster, had a rakish air. He examined the blaster and found that as he’d suspected, it was not a real weapon. Cale frowned. Angeles was confusing him more by the minute. Most places he’d been, carrying a fake weapon was riskier than carrying none at all; if someone got into a confrontation with someone he thought was armed, he might feel threatened enough to use a real weapon of his own.
He rode the drop shaft to the hotel’s lobby, and strode into the bar. The dimly lit bar was occupied by a few guests even at this early hour. He slid onto a stool and ordered a penurian glark.
The human waiter poured the thimble-sized glass and the usual beer chaser, accepted Cale’s scrip, and retreated to the corner of the bar.
“Wow! You’re really going native all the way.”
Cale turned at the voice as a pudgy man with a wide face and a wide grin took the adjoining stool. “Your indulgence, sire?” Cale replied politely.
The man waved a ring-laden hand. “Oh, I meant nothing, sire, nothing at all. It’s just that it’s unusual to see a kilt in a hotel that serves off-worlders.” He proffered a hand. “Name’s Jer Ner-Trel, from Trellia.”
Cale took the hand and smiled. “Cale Rankin from Warden’s World.” Ner-Trel should not talk about others’ clothing, Cale decided. The man was wearing a peach-colored jacket that barely buttoned over the paunch covered by a blue shirt and bright pink trousers. The styles that emerged on some planets never ceased to amaze him.
“You’re a long way from home,” Ner-Trel replied. “Warden’s is in the Sirius Sector, isn’t it?”
Cale nodded. “I haven’t been home in years. I travel a lot, now.”
The Trellian laughed. “I know what you mean. There’re a lot of folks traveling around, these days. Pretty much have to, if you want to make a credit. I’m a wholesaler of Trellian regel nuts.” He shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been away from home for more than a year, now. So, what’s your line?”
Cale was prepared for this one. “I run a small courier ship. Mostly high-value shipments, urgent documents, and occasionally passengers.”
Ner-Trel looked interested. “Yeah? It’d better be a fast ship, with all the pirate trouble around here.”
Cale’s eyebrows rose. “Really? I had some pirate trouble on the way here. I got away, but it sure scared me spitless!”
The pudgy man shook his head, his green-tinted gray hair whirling about. “They’re gettin’ more brazen every day.” He leaned closer to Cale. “If I was you,” he said in a low tone, “I’d climb in that fast courier and get away from here. The rumor is that some pirate gang called the Terror is movin’ this way. I hear they’re big enough and tough enough to take on whole planets. In fact, Angeles is building up its fleet because they expect to have to fight.” He looked around guiltily. “I came here because wartime economies are good for business. My deals are made now. I’ll be heading out tomorrow for Trellia. From now on, I’ll be sending shipments here, but all my travel is gonna be inward, toward the Old Empire planets. Those animals mostly stay out toward the rim.”
Cale nodded seriously. “I’ll think about that. I sure don’t want any more pirate trouble.” They chatted for a while, until Cale realized it was almost time to meet Dee for dinner. He made his excuses and headed for the lift shaft.
He touched the pad outside her door, and almost before he could release it, the door flew open.
He stood, gaping. The vision in the doorway was Dee. But it was not the Dee he had expected. Multiple layers of filmy, translucent material in various colors swirled about her with every movement. The result was a constantly shifting rainbow revealing just tantalizing hints of the body beneath. Her eyes and lips somehow seemed larger, more sensual, and her hair was piled high on her head, supported by a golden net that sparkled with gemstones.
The effect was wildly spectacular, particularly given her previously conservative dress. It was somewhat spoiled, however, by the expression on her face. She was red with embarrassment, and her eyes darted from side to side as though seeking escape. However, the lips were tight with determination. Cale restrained a smile. She was embarrassed to wear such glamour, but was determined to see it through.
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know I'd be meeting a member of the royal family! You look like why the riot started.”
The pink in her face darkened slightly, then lightened as a brilliant smile lit her face. She gave a formal curtsey. “Thank you, kind sir! I’ve been shopping all afternoon. It appears I’m quite a wealthy lady here.” She stepped through the door, teetering slightly on the unaccustomed elevated heels. “Shall we go?”
Cale bowed. “By all means, my lady. But I’m hardly dressed to accompany a princess.”
She waved airily. “Never mind,” she grinned. “A princess should always outshine her courtiers.”
He escorted her to the most exclusive restaurant a hurried consultation with the desk had revealed. Wherever they went, heads turned. The pink that tinted her cheeks now was pleasure and excitement rather than embarrassment.
Over their meal, though, their talk became more serious. Her pleased smile faded to a resentful frown as she explained, “I’ve been excommunicated by my church, rejected by my own father, and exiled by my entire planet. I see no reason to continue to conform to their standards of dress and behavior. I’m now a free woman, and a rich one. I’m going to enjoy it!” Her frown turned to a challenging glare.
Cale smiled. “A little rebellion is often a good thing,” he said, “It can open the mind to new experience. Just don’t let it get out of hand. Too much of it can also destroy you.”
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and he realized she’d been expecting criticism. A relieved smile lit that familiar yet unfamiliar countenance. “This outfit is my declaration of independence,” she replied quietly. “It took me hours to work up the courage to actually wear this thing. And even longer to decide to wear makeup. I’m still Dee, with my rather conservative tastes. But I’m going to keep this dress, this outfit. Whenever I find myself homesick or moping over my fate, I’ll break it out and put it on, to remind myself of the freedom I’ve gained!”
Cale grinned. “Good! You’re too beautiful not to have at least one glamorous costume. In fact, I’d suggest you get a few more, less formal dresses. Faith styles are considered pretty severe in most places. A beautiful woman has certain natural advantages when dealing with others. It seems silly to not take advantage of them.”
She flushed and her eyes dropped. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Of course! Uh, er, I mean…” It was his face’s turn to darken.
The evening passed in a happy haze, and they parted only reluctantly. At her door, Cale restrained himself from taking her into his arms and kissing her. On Faith, he knew, kissing was restricted to engaged couples. But he thought he detected an expression of disappointment on her face as the door closed.
The days became a wonderful blur of color and activity, all spiced by the presence of Dee. Without the enforced closeness of a ship, with the freedom of a city, inhibitions could fade, and nature began to take its course. Cale awoke every morning in anticipation of spending the day with Dee, and parted from her in the evenings only reluctantly. Their “city arrest” had become more of a vacation than a coerced stay.
More than a week had passed, and they were walking comfortably back to the hotel from their new favorite restaurant, hand in hand.
“Behind you!” The shout was sudden, but trained reflexes spun Cale about, arm coming up to block the arm of a large dark-clad man, and deflect the vibroblade intended for his kidney. He continued the spin, slamming his left foot into the outside of the man’s right knee. The man gasped as the knee dislocated, and he slumped to the ground. He struggled to rise, waving the vibroblade. Cale feinted a right kick toward the man’s head, and when the ‘blade came up, delivered the kick to the man’s crotch. The man gurgled and slumped to his side.
Cale whipped around, looking for Dee, just in time to see her stamp a spike heel into her man’s instep. As his grip loosened, she spun and swung her left elbow into his solar plexus. The man released her and grabbed for his chest, gasping, giving Dee the moment she needed to back up a step and slam a kick into his crotch. The man collapsed, and Cale started to smile when he saw two other men struggling alongside her.
He paused, uncertain which man he should help, if either, when the smaller man broke free and ran down the street. Cale heard a groan behind him, and turned to see his man trying to struggle to his feet, hugging his crotch. Cale spun a kick to the man’s head, and he slumped back to the ground. Dee’s man wasn’t even trying to rise. He was curled into a fetal position and vomiting. Cale looked around and found they had attracted an audience. “Would someone call the police?” he asked, and someone replied, “On the way.”
Then, suddenly, Dee was in his arms, clinging desperately to him and trembling. “It’s all right, darling,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s all over.” He kept repeating the two phrases while he reveled in the sweet smell and soft feel of her. Her trembling subsided, and he began to feel another sort of tension arise in both of them.
He cleared his throat, and then looked over Dee’s head at the man who had warned and then helped them. He reluctantly released Dee and stepped toward the man.
“Thank you, sire,” he said. “Your timely help saved us from being robbed or even injured.”
The man looked at him quizzically. “Robbed or injured?” he replied. “Don’t you realize that this wasn’t a simple robbery attempt?”
Tan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
The man toed the still-buzzing vibroblade at Cale’s feet. “Vibroblade’s not a robber’s weapon. A knife is more intimidating. ‘Blades are assassin’s weapons, pure and simple. Somebody wants you dead.”
Cale started. He realized the man was right. Robbers don’t want trouble; they want an easy score. They are rarely killers, and fighting draws attention. No, they prefer to intimidate their victims. They want big, shiny weapons; shiny plated needlers and blasters, or knives with big, shiny blades to scare victims into giving up their valuables quickly and quietly. Vibroblades weren’t intimidating, just deadly. The ‘blade at his feet had a blackened blade only about 10 centimeters long. But the blade of a vibroblade, as its name implies, vibrates at several thousand cycles per second, and is capable of slicing through tissue and bone without slowing. As their rescuer had said, an assassin’s weapon; not intimidating, but deadly,
He began to reply, but suddenly they were inundated by uniforms. The officer that questioned Cale and Dee agreed with their rescuer’s assessment, asking them if they knew of any reason someone would want them dead. At their negative replies, he shrugged. “We’ll get these two down to the station and run their DNA. But we already know they were both carrying 500 crowns in gold. You be very careful. That’s a premium price for a murder here.”
When the police left, Cale, Dee and their rescuer retired to a nearby restaurant. His name was Zant Jenfu, and he was from a planet called Selfa. He was a tall, heavyset man with the leathery look of an outdoorsman. His city-style suit hung on him like a costume; one got the feeling that it wasn’t his usual attire. Cale estimated the suit was ten years out of date and well worn, though clean.
In all, Cale assessed him as being from a rural or frontier area or planet, forced to come to Angeles City for unknown reasons, and possibly stranded here, short of funds.
"So," Dee asked once they were seated, "Do you get to Angeles often?"
Zant shook his head. "Nope. First time. And maybe my last."
"You don't like it?"
He shrugged. "Angeles City's a nice enough town, if you have crowns. It's not nearly as nice if you're broke."
Having just eaten, they just ordered drinks while they introduced themselves and expressed their appreciation. Zant just shrugged it off. “People need help, ya help ‘em,” he said. “Least, that’s how we feel on Selfa.”
As they chatted, Cale began to notice how Zant’s eyes followed the trays of food going by. He insisted on ordering the man a sizable dinner, despite his rather weak protests. “You’re hungry. ‘People need help, you help ‘em’” he mimicked Zant’s tone.
The big man laughed aloud. “I reckon things are gettin’ a leetle tight right now,”
Cale grinned. "I sense a story."
Zant shrugged and grinned. "Nothing too uncommon. I wander around a lot. About eight years ago, I landed on Selfa. The whole planet is mostly a thick forest of giant trees that pretty much covers everything except the poles and a dozen or so small seas. The early settlers were the kinds of ne’er do wells that try to stay well ahead of civilization. We were a frontier, with just a few woods rats and fur hunters, an’ a small settlement that wasn’t much more than a few small shops, tradin’ posts, bars, an’ whorehouses for the boys to cut loose.
"But then city dwellers started takin’ control of more and more planets in the sector, an’ pushin’ the folks that liked open territory out. When Diego and Sanfran began seizing farms and ranches and giving 'em to slum dwellers they were forcin’ out of the cities, a lot of the rural people got together and chartered ships to take ‘em elsewhere; and Selfa looked pretty empty.
“Well, when all these civilized folks started comin’, some o’ the boys lit out and others did the hermit thing, but most of us liked a little civilization, not to mention havin’ honest-to-god women around. After awhile, though, they started growin' towns, and the towns became cities. Well, one city. But it was enough to bring the city dwellers, with their laws an' taxes."
Zant paused while his dinner was delivered. He immediately dug in, continuing to talk around mouthfuls. "Anyway," he said, "when they decided to put a tax on furs bein' sold to the free traders, me an' some of the boys figured it was time to cash in and move on. Six of us collected our years' take and chipped in for one ticket to Angeles. We figured that instead of sellin' our furs to one of the free traders and payin' them city dwellers a big percentage they hadn't earned, one of us would take the whole shebang to Angeles, direct to the importers. The take would be bigger without the traders gettin' their cut, an' we wouldn't have to pay them damned taxes on the sale. Then we would all have a stake to move on with.
"Well, we drew lots, an' I won. We were right, too. Even subtractin' out the cost of the ticket, the importers paid us almost twice as much as the traders ever did.
"But then I had a bad attack of stupid. I was leavin' the next day. I didn't plan to be here long enough to open a bank account, and some fella told me I shouldn't trust a hotel safe in Angeles. He said I should buy a money belt. That way my letter of credit couldn't go anywhere without me knowin' about it."
Zant paused between bites for a massive sigh. "Well," he continued, "I knew about it, all right. It got a little drunk out that night, but I knew it, kinda, when I got pushed into an alley and sapped. And I even knew it when that same fella's voice told somebody, 'he's got a money belt'. And I damn sure knew it when they took the damned thing, 'cause I tried to fight an' damn near got killed.
"Oh, everybody was real sympathetic, but there was always 'nothin' they could do'; and since my ticket home was in the money belt too, I couldn't even leave." he frowned. "I guess my partners think I skinned out with their shares. That hurts even worse than losing the credits."
Cale and Dee commiserated with their new friend. He had been trying to sign on as crew on an outbound ship, but all his certifications were at least ten years old, and he wasn't having any luck.
They tried to press money on him, calling it a 'reward', but Zant's pride wouldn't let him accept it.
"I'd offer you a lift," Cale said, "but I really don't know where we're going." He explained that once they were free to leave, he'd promised Dee to deliver her to any planet of her choice within two jumps. "Actually, though, I've invited her to stay with me as long as she cares to, and offered to take her anywhere she wishes."
Zant grinned. "I can certainly understand that!" he said emphatically, causing Dee to blush to the roots of her hair. "But where do you plan to head if she doesn't choose, or if you drop her off?"
Cale frowned. "I'm not sure. I'll probably head for Ilocan. I have a home there. Or, at least I think I do."
Zant said nothing, merely cocking an eyebrow. Cale felt his face warming. "Well, I've been kind of buying a place by mail." He explained the arrangement. "Actually, though," he concluded, "I've never seen anything but holos. The place may not even exist."
Dee clapped her hands. "Let's go see!" she exclaimed excitedly.
But Zant's broad face had settled into a deep frown. "Ilocan… Ilocan. I've heard something about Ilocan recently."
Cale turned to him. "What? What have you heard?"
"I'm not sure," came the reply. "But I don't think it was good news. It'll come to me."
They resumed chatting. "You surprise me, Captain," Dee said. "I've been thinking of you as some nomad of the spaceways, wandering aimlessly among the stars."
Cale chuckled. "I'm afraid very few people could afford to do that, even if they wanted to. Even in the glory days of the Empire, very few people had private yachts, and those that did have them were very rich. Provisioning, fueling, life support supplies, even air can be very expensive. Then there are docking fees, port fees, visa fees, servicing fees, air taxes and a thousand other things. It takes a lot of money to wander aimlessly among the stars."
Her smile remained, but suddenly her eyes narrowed. "But you do it," she said. "When I asked Tess where you were going next, she said you hadn't decided."
Suddenly Zant was very attentive, though he said nothing.
Cale knew he had to be careful. He most emphatically did not want to lie to Dee, or to Zant, for that matter. Nevertheless, the wrong answer was very likely to come back to haunt him.
"Tess told you the truth, as she knew it," he replied with a shrug. "I had not yet made up my mind whether to go to Ilocan, or to pursue courier contracts and stay in space. But frankly, with all the pirate activity I've been hearing about, running high-value shipments suddenly doesn't seem so appealing."
Zant nodded. "I can understand that. But your ship's pretty fast, isn't it?"
"Yes, and she's armed," Cale replied. "But no matter how fast we are, sooner or later word would get out about a contract rich enough for them to find a way to mousetrap us."
He turned to face Dee. "I have dealt with all the pirates I ever hope to meet," he continued. "If I never see another pirate, I will be perfectly happy. Could I live as a groundhog? You had better believe it. I have no intention of becoming some kind of Flying Dutchman, endlessly cruising the stars."
"What's a 'dutchman'?" Zant asked.
Cale shrugged, relieved at the distraction. "Damned if I know. It's an old story, supposed to even predate spaceflight. This 'dutchman' was captain of a wind-powered ship making a difficult passage. During a terrible storm, he cursed God and swore he'd make the passage if it took forever. Supposedly he's still trying."
Dee shuddered. "We have wind-powered ships on Faith. We also have a lot of sailing stories. I think I may have heard one like that."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Zant replied. "Legends tend to get around."
"At any rate," Cale said, "I have no desire to emulate him, no matter what a 'dutchman' is!"
The next morning, Cale received a call from Sana Archuk, the investigator for the pirate case, asking him and Dee to come to his office.
The investigator welcomed them with a grin and a friendly wave. After seating them and offering refreshment, he said, “You had a bit of trouble last evening,” It was a statement, not a question.
Cale frowned. “Then you haven’t heard from S amp;R?”
The grin faded slightly. “No, I’m afraid not. We really don’t expect to hear from them for another week or so. But I need to talk to you about last evening. It may be related.”
Cale’s frown faded to puzzlement. “Related? Related to what?”
Archuk shrugged. “Related to your pirate troubles. The two you captured last night have been identified. They’re both wanted for piracy. They both know they’ll be going to the headsman, so they’re not talking. Yet. If I had to guess, I’d say you upset the captain of that pirate ship, and he gave a couple of his crew a bonus to eliminate you. But a thousand crowns is a big bonus for a couple of street killings. Any idea what makes you worth it?”
A stab of fear ran through Cale. “Not a clue,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “Maybe he wanted Cheetah and thinks he could buy her if I was out of the way.”
Archuk looked unconvinced. “Perhaps. Or maybe he’s just the vengeful sort. At any rate, you are obviously in danger, and it would be embarrassing if you were murdered while technically in our custody. Are either of you trained to use hand weapons?”
Both Cale and Dee nodded. “It may be possible,” Archuk continued, “to arrange the necessary permits to allow you to go armed on Angeles.” He toyed with a scriber on his desk. “Such permits are not common on Angeles. His Majesty’s government feels that weapons should be kept under the control of the government. However, I feel certain the current situation constitutes sufficient justification.” He smiled slightly at Cale’s poorly suppressed grimace. “You disagree?”
Cale shrugged, mentally berating himself for letting his feelings show. “I disagree with His Majesty’s government. I feel that an unarmed people are at the mercy of those that are armed, be they criminals, police inspectors, or governments. I do not disagree that His Majesty’s government has both the right and the power to enforce its opinion, however. I would appreciate such a permit, if it can be arranged.”
Archuk rolled his eyes in feigned disgust, his smile taking any sting from the act. He groaned. “Oh, no, not another one of those ‘a blaster for every 12-year-old’ types!”
Cale smiled. “Not exactly. And I do not wish to appear ungrateful. I know that yours was a very generous offer, and I would gratefully accept. Even more so if I could be allowed to retrieve my own concealment rig from my ship. The slight difference between having my own rig and a strange one could save our lives.”
This time Archuk’s smile and nod were genuine and understanding. “I understand. I think we can arrange that, if you are willing to have your weapon catalogued in our database.” He stood and grinned. “I’m afraid no uncatalogued weapons can be admitted to Angeles.”
“Except in the hands of criminals,” Cale murmured. A smile took the sting from his words. If Archuk heard, he made no reply.
Whatever its weapon-control stance, the government of Angeles was nothing if not efficient. Since he was technically in custody, within minutes Cale was being escorted to Cheetah by two police officers. They knew there was no way Cheetah could launch in less than fifteen standard minutes, so the officers were casual and friendly. They insisted on boarding Cheetah, but as Cale hoped, they simply sat in the lounge and waited for him. They didn’t try to follow him into his stateroom, nor did they insist he keep the door open.
He quickly briefed Tess on the previous evening’s events while retrieving his concealment weapons rig with its plain, black 2mm ladies’ model needler.
“Tess,” he said softly, “Do you have some inconspicuous way we could stay in touch? I’d like your help, but I need communications.” Cale asked.
“In the small drawer beneath your secure comp there are several small transceivers,” came Tess’s equally quiet reply. “They are flesh-colored disks about 2 millimeters in diameter. One side is adhesive. Simply stick the disk to the mastoid bone of your skull. We can speak using bone conduction, and you usually will not need to actually speak aloud, but can simply speak in that manner humans call ‘under your breath’. President Cord found them quite useful.”
Cale grinned. “I’ll bet he did. What I would like you to do is keep track of ship arrivals and departures. I’m mostly interested in unscheduled arrivals, especially tramps. Sheol, you know what I’m looking for, and know better than I do how to spot it. But if there are more killers coming, I’d like to know as soon as possible.”
“I understand, Captain, and I think I know what to look for. But surely the Angeles authorities will be watching as well.” Her voice had a puzzled tone.
“I hope they will be,” Cale replied, “But I don’t trust them to let me know if they see something. With the police mentality, they’re just as likely to follow them until they do something overt — ‘Something overt’ like taking more shots at us!”
“Understood, sir. I will be on guard. Good luck.”
Cale nodded. “Thanks. Now I’d better get back before those cops get curious.” He rolled up his sleeve, attached the needler rig to his right forearm, and lowered the sleeve over it. Now, a mere tensing of his arm muscles in the pattern required to receive the needler would trigger release of the needler into his waiting hand in less than a tenth of a second
He reached into the drawer and removed one of the tiny transceivers. A touch with a stylus activated the adhesive, and he attached it to his head behind his left ear. A quick look in the mirror revealed that the paper-thin, flesh-colored disk was virtually invisible to the casual glance. “Testing, one, two,” he whispered while trying to keep from moving his lips.
“Receiving you loud and clear, Captain,” Tess’s voice sounded slightly muffled in his left ear. “The transceivers have a range of two kilometers, or just over one and one-half miles,” Tess continued.
Cale jerked a nod at his reflection in the mirror, and strode back to greet his escort in the lounge. One of the cops raised a hand. “Sorry, Captain, but I’ll need to keep your weapon until it is properly catalogued.”
Cale raised his right sleeve, removed the needler from the rig, and surrendered it with a forced smile. “Of course, Officer.” He carefully failed to mention the two flash grenades the rig also contained, or the two extra magazines of ammunition. Why complicate things?
Cale and his escort returned to Archuk’s office, where Dee was being fitted out with a small needler similar to his own. Hers would be in a small inside-the-waistband, cross-draw holster; neither as fast nor as concealable as Cale’s, but Dee considered it impressive. The cop handed Cale’s needler to Archuk, who handed it to the tech who had provided Dee’s weapon. The man nodded and left without a word.
Archuk again favored Cale with his broad smile. “It won’t be long, Captain, I promise. Mistress Raum’s weapon is, of course, already catalogued.” Cale was noticing how the Angeles police always referred to weapons as ‘catalogued’, never ‘registered’. He was willing to bet that personal weapons control was a hot subject on Angeles.
His weapon was returned within a few minutes. As he clipped it into place on the arm rig, Cale breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time since landing on Angeles, he felt secure, if not relaxed.
The needler was not Cale’s first choice of close-combat weapon, but blasters just weren’t concealable, and hand lasers were only good for one or two shots. Using a combination of compressed gas and a small linear accelerator, the needler spit out a stream of 2mm steel needles. The needles had little mass, and therefore little penetration, but the stream of projectiles at high velocity could chew a massive wound in soft tissue in seconds. Cale’s ladies’ model held only 750 needles, but Cale was practiced in zeroing in on the soft tissue of the neck and belly. In his hands, it was nearly as deadly as a blaster.
“Are you certain you cannot think of any reason for the pirates to put a price on your heads?” Archuk asked.
Cale shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “But I’m not even from this sector. Aside from Cheetah, I have no other assets anyone would care about. And I can’t imagine a pirate starting a vendetta over a 400-year-old courier ship!”
Archuk frowned. “Nor can I. That’s what bothers me. All right, the S amp;R ship should be back within a week or so. In the meantime, try not to get yourselves killed.” He waved an obvious dismissal.
The wait went on. Meanwhile, Cale and Dee were growing closer. Cale was enjoying every minute with Dee, so much so that on several occasions he almost forgot his nightly check-in with Tess. For her part, Dee knew it would be very easy for her to fall in love with Cale but she was haunted by the fact that she knew so little about this man except that he was hiding something. What could it be?
Finally, Cale received the call from Archuk. The S amp;R ship had returned, and he asked them to come to his office.
Archuk was again all smiles as he rose to greet them.
“Captain! Mistress Raum!” He greeted them heartily, “Please sit down; we have much to discuss.”
“Then your ship found the derelict?” Cale asked.
The ever-present smile faded somewhat. “Indeed it did, and I’m delighted to say that the evidence it collected completely substantiates your account. Unfortunately, that’s not all they found.
“As we surmised from the attempt on your life, there were survivors among the pirates. As best we can reconstruct the evidence, the pirate captain was one well known to us, a nasty piece of work named Remson. He’s not one of the most successful pirates, but possibly one of the most vicious. It appears that you killed four of his crew, and injured three more. Once they got the ship airtight, Remson cut the throats of his wounded, and put the rest of his men to trying to get his ship under power. They also turned on their emergency beacon. Pirates often do that in an effort to lure in unsuspecting good Samaritans.
“Unfortunately,” Archuk continued with a grimace, “The ruse worked this time. The delta-class freighter Sarah Lu, under the command of Captain Fen Varken responded to the SOS.”
Cale looked puzzled. “How could you know that? I assume the pirates were long gone.”
Archuk nodded soberly. “So they were. They spaced the entire crew alive, and fled in their seized ship. The reason we know the identity of the ship and her captain is that the frozen body of the captain was found entangled in some of the wreckage of Remson’s ship. There were no signs of violence other than those of decompression. We’ve put out a sector-wide alert for the ship and, of course, Remson.”
Dee had gone white as Archuk spoke. “If we’d gone back…” She began.
“It would have been your bodies that were found. Or not, since we would not have been notified to look.” Archuk’s smile was grim this time. “I suspect you owe your Captain an apology, Mistress. By refusing to turn back, he undoubtedly saved your lives.”
The look Dee directed at Cale was full of meaning, though he remained unsure just what the meaning was. Certainly, there was gratitude, but there was also unmistakable suspicion.
“And the men that tried to kill us?” Cale asked hurriedly.
Archuk shrugged. “Neither talked before their executions,” he replied. “But of course we now know that the pirate captain did survive your shootout, and it seems obvious he sent them.”
“In any event,” he continued, “You have been completely exonerated, and I would like to congratulate you on your expertise and courage.”
Cale nodded soberly. “Thank you. Then we are no longer in custody?”
The wide smile was back. “Of course not, of course not. Naturally, you’re both free to go. I hope your stay has not been an uncomfortable one. Oh,” he continued, “Unless you’re leaving in the next 48 hours, I’m afraid you’ll have to remove your ship from the government field and dock at the orbital commercial port.”
Cale smiled courteously. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Our stay has been rather more of a vacation. And everyone here has been most courteous. Now, if that’s all…”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Archuk responded in a professional tone. “If there’s anything I can do…”
They invited Zant to join them for a celebratory dinner
Zant seemed preoccupied. "Tell me, Cale, why did you choose Ilocan, of all places? It's hardly a hub of galactic activity."
Cale grinned. "It certainly isn't. Actually, I have a very close friend whose favorite aunt retired there about fifteen years ago." He shrugged. "He used to talk about her and her vids of Ilocan all the time. It sounds like a really nice place. According to the Stellar Index, it's almost idyllic. Gravity of only. 89 standard, thoroughly terraformed but mostly wilderness, almost no heavy industry, only one major city and scattered villages, and only a few million people. Sheol! Last I heard, his aunt had been made President of the place! I'm rather anxious to see if it lives up to its reputation."
Zant frowned. "I'm sorry, Cale, but it won't. Not anymore. There's been a war."
Cale shot straight in his chair. "A war? With whom? How bad? Who won?"
Zant raised a hand to forestall Cale's flood of questions. "I'm sorry, Cale. I knew I remembered hearing about Ilocan recently. It was just shoptalk with a captain I was trying to convince to hire me. He mentioned that he had to leave Ilocan in a hurry, because it was invaded by Santiago. Only a couple of ships full of troops, but they took Homesafe by surprise, and took over the city in a few hours.
He leaned across the table. "Before I came over here this evening, I checked the Worldnet for news of Ilocan. There wasn't much. Santiago is claiming to have 'liberated' Ilocan from its, 'backward, reactionary government', and that their forces were welcomed by the Ilocano people, who had been kept in 'primitive' conditions by their previous rulers.
"It looks like the war itself is over. But reading between the lines, I'd bet there's a serious guerilla war going on. One of the underground newsies here claims to be in contact with an Ilocano 'government in exile'. He claims that the Santies are even having trouble holding onto Homesafe, and that only resupply from space lets them hang on."
He shrugged. "It sounds like plain old propaganda from both sides. There's no telling from the newsies what's really going on there. If you decide to go, be ready for a war zone. At the very least, the Santies are sure to have the jump point picketed."