Star Raider Page 8

  Tanner seriously didn’t like half his passengers. Brother and sister Varus—the verdict was still out on them.

  Calisto Grandee slowly rotated. It was an enormous wheel with hundreds of spindly spokes connected to a huge central mass. Countless spacecraft orbited the gigahab. A few moved toward brightly lit docking entrances. Other craft began long fusion burns for various regions of Nostradamus space. Others headed out-system so they could begin a hyperdrive journey to another star.

  Tanner glanced at the gas giant Titan. Vast storms swirled in its upper atmosphere. They appeared as multicolored circles from here.

  “You are free to engage your thrusters, Dark Star.”

  “Thank you, Central,” he said.

  Tanner began to make his calculations. Why did he have a nagging doubt? He checked fuel. The capacitors were full. He studied the gauges to the fusion core and engine. Everything checked out there, too. The point-defense guns seemed fine.

  He tapped a control, aiming the guns at the gas giant. A stab of a button sent red tracers at Titan. The point-defense cannons worked.

  Space Central on Calisto Grandee called a minute later. They wanted to know what he was shooting at. Clearly, they were monitoring him closely.

  “Checking my guns, Central,” Tanner said. “I thought I’d spotted a glitch in the programming. Just wanted to make sure they were okay.”

  The flight operator told him to be careful with that.

  “Roger,” Tanner said.

  He continued with the calculations. Was there a reason Central watched him so closely?

  Tanner checked this instrument and checked that gauge. Finally, he couldn’t delay anymore. He informed the passengers to get ready for the first fusion burn.

  This leg of the journey, he would give the raider one G of thrust. Soon, he engaged the fusion engine. The thrust pushed him against his seat. The raider began to pull away from Titan, heading out-system.

  What have I overlooked? What is my subconscious trying to tell me? I’d better figure it out soon. Otherwise, I think I’m going to have a nasty surprise.

  ***

  The hours passed in continuous work. After the sixth heavy yawn, Tanner finally headed to his quarters. He wanted to sleep a good long time. He undressed, climbed under the covers and yawned once more.

  It was good to be in his own bed again. His eyelids closed and his breathing evened out. Another few seconds and he would have been asleep.

  His eyes snapped open and he cursed aloud.

  Climbing out of bed, he went to the intra-ship comm. He tapped it. “Greco,” he said.

  The apeman’s face soon appeared in the tiny screen. “What’s up, boss?”

  “Check the particle beam emitter, would you?”

  “I already did. Everything is fine.”

  “You fired it?” Tanner asked.

  “Well, no. I checked all the relays, though.”

  Tanner sat back, tapping his chin. Was there a reason other than Calisto Grandee’s hearty dislike of spending one credit more than they had to for Jordan’s continued sickness? Might someone have wanted the Dark Star to lack a computer expert? That seemed farfetched, almost absurd. Yet, maybe that was the source of Tanner’s nagging doubt.

  “Fire the emitter,” he said.

  “When?” asked Greco.

  “Immediately.”

  The tiny face in the screen screwed up as if to argue. Then, Greco said, “Will do, boss.”

  Tanner waited by the comm. The minutes lengthened. Finally, he heard the engine build up. It was a subtle thing compared to the thrum that gave them one G thrust. He kept waiting for the particle beam accelerator to sound.

  Before that happened, the comm blinked and Greco’s hairy face appeared.

  “What is it?” Tanner asked.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Greco said. “The particle beam accelerator isn’t working.”

  Tanner’s chest constricted. Had he been right, then? Was there more going on than he realized?

  “Shut down the emitter and go to the accelerator,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Everything on my board shows that it should work,” Greco said.

  “Yeah,” Tanner said. “That’s because someone has tampered with it. Now, go check it and figure out exactly what’s wrong.”

  ***

  Two hours later, Tanner was back in his quarters. He spread grease removal cream on his hands and wrists, wiping them with a cloth.

  Then he started pacing.

  His cabin was small like most of them on the Dark Star. He walked four steps, turned around and walked four more the other way, turning again. The room held a bed, table and chair, with cabinets built into the bulkhead.

  Finally, he stripped off his work clothes and put on his centurion uniform. On impulse, he added his holster and gun. He was going to wear it the entire trip along with the monofilament knife. Afterward, he headed into the corridor.

  The corridors were narrow on the Gladius-class raider, with a single float rail for zero-G maneuvering.

  Tanner marched to the heir’s cabin and pressed a switch. After a minute, still nothing had happened. He pressed the switch again. Another minute brought no change to the situation.

  What did this mean?

  Tanner kept his finger pressed against the switch this time.

  Thirty seconds later, the hatch slid up and a sleepy, angry-looking Marcus Varus glared at him. The heir wore a silk robe with a gun in his hand.

  “You’d better have a good reason for bothering me,” Marcus said. “I haven’t slept for more than fifty hours.”

  Why is that? Tanner wondered. Aloud, he said, “We have a problem, Lord.”

  “Well? What is it? Spit it out.”

  “Someone on Calisto Grandee tampered with the raider’s particle beam emitter.”

  “Then fix it, man!”

  Tanner shook his head. “Maybe in one hundred hours if Greco can manufacture the part in his workshop—”

  “You mean this is sabotage?” Marcus interrupted.

  “That’s the right word for it, yes.”

  Fear seeped into the heir’s eyes.

  “There’s more, Lord,” Tanner said. “The Calisto Grandee people confiscated my torpedoes. At first, I thought they were following their own greedy regulations. Now, I’m not so certain. I think—”

  “You mean your space torpedoes?” Marcus demanded.

  “I think you’re starting to see the situation. We don’t have a working particle beam emitter and lack any space torpedoes for our tubes.”

  “What does this bucket have for weapons?”

  “Point-defense cannons,” Tanner said.

  “That tears it,” Marcus said. “Someone knows. Someone is trying to interfere directly. I suspect the long arm of Coalition Special Intelligence, but it could be others.”

  “What do they know?” Tanner asked.

  Marcus seemed not to have heard the question. “Right,” he said to himself. “I’ll have to wake my sister. Then, captain, we’re going to have a council of war. We’re going to have to anticipate our hidden enemy. Someone wants us unarmed. The obvious reason is so they can attack us without worry.”

  “Either that,” Tanner said, “or capture us.”

  The heir’s head snapped up, and now real fear shined in his eyes. “We can’t let that happen.”

  “It hasn’t yet.”

  Marcus stared at Tanner as if seeing him for the first time. Then the heir of House Varus did something Tanner didn’t expect. He grabbed Tanner by the arm, yanking him into his quarters.

  “Stay here,” Marcus whispered. “I don’t want…” He peered into the corridor, glancing both ways. Then, he ducked back within. “I don’t want Lord Acton hearing about this just yet. I’ll get my sister. You wait here. I’ll bring her. We have to figure out what we’re going to do before—”

  The heir swore under his breath before dashing into the corridor, slapping the switch that closed his hat
ch with Tanner in his quarters.

  -12-

  Tanner looked around the room. Everything was neat and tidy. Two suitcases stood by the bed, which was made with military precision. He studied that, and realized that’s exactly how he had made the bed, which meant Marcus hadn’t been trying to sleep. Well, if he had been trying, it hadn’t been under the covers or on the bed. Had Marcus lied about sleeping or about being up previously for fifty hours?

  Why bother? Hmm, maybe as a reason for why he hadn’t answered the buzzer right away. But if Marcus hadn’t been sleeping, what had he been doing in here?

  Tanner glanced at the hatch before approaching the suitcases. He tested each, finding them locked. So much for seeing what was in them.

  The quarters were a little larger than his own. If…Tanner frowned.

  Deciding there were too many mysteries, he drew his gun and stood on one side of the hatch. If Marcus was trying to trick him, the tribune was going to be in for a rude surprise.

  The seconds lengthened into minutes. This was taking too long. He readied to push off the bulkhead and leave—

  The hatch opened and Patrician Ursa stepped into the room. “He’s gone,” she said, not seeing Tanner to the side.

  “What?” Marcus said, charging into the room and finally spinning around.

  Tanner aimed the gun at his face. The heir’s right-hand knuckles were white as he clutched a nasty little beamer.

  “Drop it,” Tanner said.

  Marcus Varus stared at the huge gun barrel centimeters from his face. He seemed stunned.

  “Do it,” Ursa said. “We don’t have time for theatrics. The captain is nervous. You know he has a right to be.”

  Marcus pitched the beamer onto the bed. Then, he backed farther into the room so the hatch slid shut.

  Ursa took one of her brother’s hands, guiding him to the bed, pulling him down beside her. “There,” she said to Tanner. “Does that put you at ease?”

  Tanner still aimed the gun at them. The room was small. Marcus could easily launch off the bed to attack him. He noticed that Ursa gripped her brother’s right hand. Was she trying to assure him her brother wouldn’t be able to try a sudden lunge?

  “Push the beamer onto the floor,” Tanner said.

  With the back of her left hand, Ursa did so, making the compact weapon clunk onto the floor. She used the toe of her shoe to push the beamer toward Tanner.

  He crouched down, taking the weapon, sticking it between his stomach and belt. Then, on impulse, deciding to test them, Tanner holstered his gun.

  Marcus visibly relaxed as tension oozed out of him.

  “He’s sworn to protect me,” Ursa explained.

  Tanner frowned. Why would she tell him that? A thought struck. “Did he swear it to Consul Maximus?”

  Ursa appeared surprised by the question. She nodded a moment later.

  Tanner studied them. “Are you really the heirs to House Varus?”

  A wintry grin appeared on Ursa’s face while Marcus scowled.

  “How dare you question our authenticity?” Marcus said.

  “No, no,” Ursa said, patting her brother’s hand. “He’s suspicious, and he acts quickly on his suspicions. Maybe that’s why the centurion has survived when so many of the others are dead. We must applaud the consul’s foresight and instincts. We have few cards remaining. The centurion may be our best bet left.”

  Marcus glanced at his sister, finally nodding. “I beg your pardon,” he told Tanner. “I am the heir and Ursa is the heiress. Not that we have much left to inherit,” he said. “The Coalition has either divested House Varus of its holdings or destroyed them. We have—”

  “That’s enough,” Ursa said, quietly.

  Marcus glanced at his sister again before looking down at his lap.

  She gave Tanner a calculating study.

  He tried to determine if this was another act or if this was how they really felt.

  “You can trust us,” Ursa said.

  “You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that,” Tanner told her drily.

  Marcus’s head snapped up.

  “Shhh,” Ursa told him. “He’s trying to goad us.”

  “The Fates may have cast us down—” Marcus said.

  “Hush, I said,” Ursa told her brother. “Let me do the talking.”

  Marcus glared at Tanner. “If you dishonor her—”

  “Marcus!” she snapped. “Please.”

  “Yes, sister,” he said, although he didn’t take his eyes off Tanner.

  “I have no desire to dishonor anyone,” Tanner said. “I just want to know why Calisto Grandee stole my torpedoes and put a damaged main relay into my particle beam accelerator.”

  “That part is easy to understand,” Ursa said. “Someone paid the Calisto Grandee people to do it.”

  “The other question is why they did it?” Tanner asked.

  “Precisely,” she said.

  Tanner thought about that. “I imagine we’ll discover the why before we reach hyperdrive territory. My guess is our hidden enemy will meet us somewhere at the edge of the Nostradamus System.”

  “That seems logical,” Ursa said.

  “Your brother seems to think Coalition Special Intelligence is behind this.”

  “They’re the obvious candidate,” Ursa said.

  “Who else could it be?” Tanner asked.

  Ursa’s lips firmed, as if she didn’t want to say.

  “You just told me I could trust you,” Tanner said. “That means you should start telling me the truth.”

  Marcus’s shoulders stiffened, but he refrained from speaking.

  “What’s with Lord Acton?” Tanner asked.

  Ursa smiled while Marcus seemed to become more alert.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ursa asked.

  “He tried a mind trick on me when I first met him,” Tanner said. “How did he do that?”

  “Did you shake his hand?”

  “Of course,” Tanner said.

  “Then I would guess he dosed you.”

  Tanner recalled the man’s greasy palm. “Dosed me with what?”

  “A mild mind-altering drug,” Ursa said. “Likely, he was testing you, gauging your strength of will. My guess would be you surprised him.”

  “And no one thought to tell me the bastard would try something like that,” Tanner said.

  Both brother and sister looked away.

  “Do you fear Acton?” Tanner asked.

  Ursa looked up. “Most certainly we do.”

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m tired. Lord Varus here said he’s been up for fifty hours. No doubt, he’d like to get some sleep. I know I would. So, instead of having me ask one hundred questions, searching for the right one, why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Then, I’ll begin to think about trusting you two.”

  Ursa released her brother’s hand. She bowed her head and pressed her hands against her face. “Marcus, would you go patrol the hall, please?”

  Marcus swung toward her. “Sister!” he cried.

  “I’ll be fine. Someone has to keep guard, though. We don’t know if Acton will try to eavesdrop on us.”

  “I can’t leave you alone in here with a strange man.”

  “Marcus, please, this is Centurion Tanner. If we can’t trust him, if we can’t trust Consul Maximus’s judgment, this will never work anyway.”

  “I know that,” Marcus said, “but it’s another thing to risk the family honor.”

  “Oh, Marcus,” she said, “sweet, brave, ferocious, Marcus.” She touched his face. “You have nothing to fear. I will keep our family honor intact.”

  He rose stiffly, glaring at Tanner.

  “Take this,” Tanner said, handing him the beamer, butt forward.

  Marcus accepted the weapon, opening his mouth, perhaps to give Tanner a warning. He glanced at the tiny, deadly beamer in his hand. He grunted softly, moving past Tanner into the corridor.

  After the hatch shut, Ursa rose, walking
onto the other side of the bed, putting more distance between Tanner and herself.

  “Remus is dying,” she said softly. “Coalition Special Intelligence knows their business too well. They’ve broken other worlds before ours, fitting them into the greater machine of social unity. The occupation forces hunt down the patriots, executing many and brainwashing others. We’re running out of time, Centurion. You wouldn’t recognize Remus if you dared visit your homeworld.”

  “Is Consul Maximus still alive?”

  “He’s in hiding, so I think so. But he could be dead by now. That’s why Marcus and I are risking everything for the answer to the occupation. Our world no longer has the time to resist. Given another year, even if we could drive the Coalition Forces off Remus after that, too many people would accept the tenets of social unity: the lack of individuality, the antlike subservience to the Coalition’s One Way Thinking. The enemy’s psych people talk about our right to be free while enforcing strict speech codes and correct action policies. Anyone who deviates from the new norm is driven from their employment and home, forced to live in one of the so-called Liberty Sites, which are nothing more than reeducation camps. The Coalition psych and propaganda people are turning the meanings of words on their heads. In their lexicon, free means slave and slave means free.”

  “They’re sucking the soul out of our people,” Tanner said.

  “Yes. That’s why Maximus decided we must risk everything on one bold throw of the dice of fate. We must search for the weapon that none dare wield, take it, and destroy the Coalition before Remus is a soulless husk of its former self.”

  “What weapon is this?” Tanner asked, intrigued.

  Ursa finally faced him as she hugged herself. “I dare not tell you yet, Centurion. Clearly, someone has seen to it that our spacecraft is disarmed. That must mean someone will try to capture us. If I tell you our goal, there is that much more of a chance they will learn our final gambit through mind-probes.”

  “How about I turn the ship around?” Tanner said.

  “And go where?” Ursa asked. “No. I believe this voyage is Remus’s last change for freedom. We must take the risk despite the wretched odds for success.”

  “You’re going in circles, Patrician. That will put me to sleep soon. Either you tell me—”