From: jimv@ucrmath.ucr.edu
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY: Harrison 17
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: 10 Sep 1992 09:56:46 -0400
Organization: UUNET Communications
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net

               Copyright 1992 by Jim Vassilakos
                      All Rights Reserved

     Permission is granted by the copyright holder to copy
      and distribute this work such that no commercial or
 barter consideration is obtained in exchange for such copies.

---------------------------------------------------------------




                            Seventeen




She stood before him, silent and expressionless as subtle strands
of moonlight bathed the sanctuary in dim shades of purple. Then a
coy smile played into her silver eyes, and her white mane rippled
in the icy darkness, hair like blades, etching an icy trail along
his throat. Her nails left only a thin trickle of blood, barely a
distraction, one following closely upon the other in preparation
for her knee's decisive collision with his crotch. He doubled
over, falling to the floor with a heavy thud and torn, mud-caked
britches.
   "Out of the frying pan and into the fire, eh Harrison? That
was for making a fool of me. This is for trying to nuke me."
   Her palm pressed against his nose, two fingers slowly but
resolutely forcing their way into his eye sockets.
   "I didn't do it."
   She held the pressure for a moment and then changed her grip
on his face, lifting him to the wall by the scruff of his chin.
   "I was going to kill you mercifully, but lies piss me off."
   "He's not lying." The voice belonged to green-eyes.
   Sule rocked Mike back a foot and then bounced him off the
wall, dropping him to the mauve carpet like a wet rag. He was
still shaking off stars as Sule turned toward Arien's daughter.
   "Get out!"
   "What are you going to do, Sule? Beat me up?" The young woman
stepped forward, confidence filling every movement. "If you touch
me, my father will kill you, and if you touch him, I'll kill
you."
   Mike raised his head slowly and blinked, the gleam of
moonlight off iridium scarcely catching his notice. She had
Johanes' laser. An appropriate weapon, Mike figured. With nothing
mechanical to slow her down, it shaved the bio-synthe's edge to a
bare minimum. Sule's scowl faded slightly, a touch of amusement
sparking silver eyes.
   "You are a foolish girl."
   "And you're on my turf, Sule. Don't forget it."
   Mike raised himself halfway off the floor, taking a wider
surveillance of the chamber. Erestyl's emaciated body lay folded
in a corner, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. Mike
crept over, fumbling in vain for a pulse and finding a spent hypo
on the floor.
   "He outlived his usefulness," Sule contemplated. "The reason
you came to this space sick planet is dead."
   "Why?"
   "Efficiency."
   Mike coughed, "Efficiency?"
   "With the aid of Korina and Alister, his mind was peeled open
such that I could question him in solitude. After he disclosed
the details of his treachery, there was simply nothing more of
value to learn from him. Now all that remains is to dispose of
the body, a matter to which I must personally attend."
   With that she picked up the body and carried it out the door.
Mike followed her, still limping, outside and across the moat's
narrow bridge. Outside, the worgs guarded the mansion, their
hungry eyes perched upon blood-drenched snouts. Sule dropped the
body several feet from the moat, placing a small vial on
Erestyl's chest and breaking it with her boot. A moment later,
the body was consumed in flame, and several of the worgs took up
a mournful howl. She waited a minute, finally kicking the charred
remains into the water.
   "Food for your pet, Alister."
   Mike turned around. Arien stood behind him with Korina by his
side. He seemed despondent, light from the dying flames
flickering in his eyes.
   "The first cooked meal she's had in years."
   "You're sure you won't let me take this gatherer with me? I'd
rather like to keep him."
   Arien smiled, "If it wasn't for Mr. Harrison, Sule, it might
be your burnt corpse in that moat."
   Her eyes narrowed, but she never got to respond. A gravcar
slipped casually over the gate, turning back only as the laser
canon opened with a warning burst. Arien raised his arm,
effectively restraining further damage to his lawn.
   "You're ride, I take it?"
   Sule nodded, "Vlep and your wife. You want her, you'll have to
fetch her."
   "Mr. Harrison?"
   Mike looked at him dumbly. "Don't you have guards to do that
sort of thing?"
   "Please, Mr. Harrison. Oh, you'll need this."
   He handed Mike some hi-tech gizmo, a makeshift medical scanner
if Mike guessed correctly.
   "To check for anything physically out of the ordinary. It's
been pre-programmed. All you have to do is hit this button. Easy
enough for you?"
   Mike was about to say no, but the look in Korina's green eyes
told him not to bother. The front gate was wide open, and
crossing through it, Mike saw Vlep in the driver's seat.
   "Long time, no see."
   "Why are they sending you?"
   Mike shrugged, "I'm sure he has his reasons."
   Ambassador Kato was in the back seat, her brown eyes glassy
and sluggish. Mike opened her door, and began scanning. The gizmo
seemed to say she was okay, and he offered his hand in what he
figured was his most diplomatic gesture of the evening.
   "C'mon Ambassador."
   He reached in and shook her shoulder, finally getting some
figment of attention.
   "Mind scanner?"
   Vlep ignored the query.
   "It's okay, Vlep. Sule can't here you."
   "You'd be surprised."
   "Oh," Mike nodded, "she's got a vice on your balls does she?"
   "In my neck."
   Mike made a T-sign, turning the scanner toward Vlep.
   "You know what that means, don't you?"
   Vlep looked up, somewhat confused.
   "You're just gonna have to do what you do best, Vlep."
   Mike leaned in, grabbing Vlep's hand and pressing it against
his forehead.
   "Understand?"
   He picked Johanes' bug out of his pocket, screwing the two
pieces back together. Then he dropped it in Vlep's hand.
   "It's the only chance you've got."
   Mike lifted the ambassador from the vehicle and pointed her in
the direction of the mansion. She leaned against him as they
walked, and he felt as though he were training a baby to put one
foot in front of the other. They met Sule half way across the
lawn. Her white mane waved gently in the cool, night air, and she
held a small metallic cylinder in one hand, its tip gleaming
golden in the moonlight.
   "Goodbye, Harrison. And good riddance."
   Then she broke into a sprint, and Mike heard the sound of
gunfire. He hit the turf, holding Kato down as bullets continued
to whiz overhead. Then all was silent, and the gravcar was gone.
Mike picked himself unsteadily off the lawn, helping the
Ambassador to her feet. Korina was there moments later, her
father trotting close behind.
   "Thank the fates. We thought you both dead."
   "Vlep's no marksman, but all the same, it's amazing that he
missed," Arien added.
   Mike shook his head and started back toward the mansion.
   "He didn't miss."


                          *     *     *


Mike leaned against the tile wall, his groin still aching as he
watched the last of the moat gook slither down the drain pipe.
Coating his body in a gentle, sleepy embrace, the shower's warm
spray made him more than a little drowsy. Considering everything,
it was a strange feeling. Getting shot at usually kept him wired
for an evening. Lately, however, the slugs had been flying so
thick and fast that they were no longer a novelty. Adrenalin was
becoming a tiresome companion. Even Sule's knee in his crotch
seemed in retrospect like nothing grander than a momentary
distraction, though, at the time, he was quite certain that the
universe was coming to an end. He curled his lips inward at the
memory, letting the warm water invade his mouth and nostrils
until he had to spew it out just to breathe. It was a good
memory, he decided. It helped him forget about sleep.
   The black fleximesh laid out for him was vastly superior to
the mendwear he usually threw on. It was designed along some
Draconian, poly-adaptive, one-size-fits-all concept. All-within-
reason is what they actually meant. Mike aired off and slipped
into the new threads, still damp from their soaking. Once they
dried, the fibers would expand and harden. Decent protection,
Mike figured, and it was air-tight to boot, better than a flak
vest or a vacc suit and at a fraction of the bulk. Mike checked
the fit in the mirror, the imperious grin sliding off his face as
the glint of polished iridium met his gaze. A draconian, military
insignia lay etched into the left breast: external intelligence
if his guess wasn't too far off.
   Korina and Johanes were still in the study, each perched over
the medical console like a pair of determined vultures as they
argued over the finer features of a sub-dermal charge. Mike tried
to meet Johanes' smile with one of his own, but even in his
fleximesh uniform, the Draconian could put on a dastardly grin,
unbeatable considering the image of the Realm most people carried
around.
   Vlep's cooperating," Johanes patted the reception unit.
"They're going to Xekhasmeno... to the starport it seems. Oh, by
the way... nice outfit."
   "Same to you. You mind telling me why we're wearing these?"
   Johanes put on a play frown, "You don't like 'em?"
   "Walking into an Imperial starport with this on isn't exactly
the quintessence of sanity."
   "Well, it isn't exactly an Imperial starport anymore."
   Korina sighed, "The Calannan government has assumed temporary
control."
   "Because of the riots?"
   She nodded, "And all Imperial vessels have been banished from
the planetary airspace."
   Mike finally managed his smile, no longer wondering why
Johanes seemed so pleased with himself. With a Royal Fleet
passenger liner in orbit, it was a hefty blow to Imperial pride.
Johanes had every right to be pleased, however, he dropped his
smile when he noticed it becoming contagious.
   "It's politics, Mike. The Imps are going along with it to help
quell the riots."
   "So Sule's gonna have a hard time finding herself a ride."
   "A very hard time."
   "That still doesn't answer my question."
   Johanes took a deep breath, cautiously scrutinizing the vacant
space several inches in front of his nose.
   "It's like this, Mike. The locals hate the Imps."
   "They hate neghrali."
   "But they hate the Imps in particular."
   "Jo, the starport guards are not going to give you free run of
the facilities just because you're a Draconian."
   "If they have orders..."
   "Who have you been talking to?"
   Johanes resumed his smile, "A friend of yours."
   "A friend?"
   "A powerful friend."
   Mike winced, "No."
   "Yes."
   "I don't want to hear this."
   "General Gardansa. He's now in charge of the starport. And the
beauty of it, which is still making me crazy, is that this whole
plan depends on you."
   Mike sat down on the edge of the table, the med console
casting a faint blue glimmer against the side of his face.
   "What have you told him?"
   "Enough. Enough for him to understand how important it is that
we find Sule before she gets offworld."
   "Then what's the problem?"
   "He wants to hear it from you. He trusts you."
   Mike coughed, "That's absurd."
   "I agree completely, but then again, he doesn't know you like
I do."
   "Yes he does."
   Johanes shrugged, "Then I pity him."
   Mike considered a jab to Jo's stomach but stuffed the notion
back where it belonged. The fleximesh would make a stump of his
hand before he'd ever inflect so much as mild irritation.
   "You still haven't answered my question."
   "Appearances are important, Michael. He doesn't want the world
to know he's taking cues from a gatherer, particularly one to
whom he owes favors."
   "I'm sure he doesn't feel that he owes me anything. Besides,
people will recognize me." Mike fingered his jacks to demonstrate
the point. Johanes just cracked a grin.
   "I'll find you a helmet. Look, Mike. He's not the nicest
person on this planet, but he's all we've got, and we desperately
need his help."
   "Jo, whatever he does, he does for himself, not for you or me.
If we go there, it's going to be us who are helping him
accomplish his agenda. You understand?"
   Johanes nodded, "Yes. And I can live with it as long as it
means stopping Sule. Why do you have a problem with it?"
   "If you knew him like I do, you wouldn't have to ask."
   "Maybe I do, Michael. Spokes told me a few things, while you
were busy having your jitters."
   "Like what?"
   "He told me that Gardansa had you take a bath... with his
limo. It took a little research to find out why. Gardansa's been
effectively grounded this past year, his black market stolen by
strong arms in the military."
   Mike nodded, "I know the details. He was too greedy. And I
also know that he's trying to buy his way back in, except he
isn't going through his people, Jo. He's going through ISIS. Did
Spokes mention that?"
   "He told me."
   "Then why are you doing this? For all we know, Sule could be
sitting on Gardansa's lap, playing patty-cake with him right
now."
   "I doubt it."
   "Why's that?"
   "It's what you said, Mike. He's greedy. He can get what he
wants by turning us in to ISIS, but he can get much more by
capturing Sule and holding her for the highest bidder. Think
about it, and think about what the Imps will pay."
   "They'll kill him."
   "He's run that risk before. He'll run it again. And he may
even make himself the planetary governor in the process."
   "And you're going to let him?"
   "Appearances, Mike. They're more important than the reality.
Gardansa can hand her over to us and then lie like a moon rock.
He'll get paid by both sides, and when the Imps do get her back,
there won't be any more in her head than is in Kato's. A justice
fitting the crime."
   Mike blinked, disgusted and impressed all at the same time.
   "I can tell you've put some thought to this."
   "You disapprove?"
   Mike gritted his teeth, "No."
   "I didn't think so."
   "You figured all this while I was taking a shower?"
   Johanes blushed, "What can I say?"
   "Tell me about Vlep." Mike motioned toward the medical
console, and Korina swiveled the screen toward him.
   "Your scan shows a rather complex piece of equipment in his
neck."
   Mike exchanged glances with Johanes as she continued, pointing
toward various points on the monitor display.
   "The receiver is here. This seems to be the timing mechanism.
This is a transmitter, presumably for location purposes, and
here's the charge."
   "Large package."
   "Minute, actually. But is packs a wallop. Sule must have a
transmitter somewhere on her which we assume will activate the
charge."
   Mike nodded, "She was holding some sort of metallic cylinder
as she passed me."
   "Anything about it distinctive?" Johanes interjected.
   "No. Well, it had a gold tip."
   Kori hit a key on the monitor, switching it off.
   "To help Vlep, you're going to have to block the signal."
   "How?"
   "The starport med-bay has durilium sheaths. Without knowing
what frequency it's keyed to, it's the best we can do. I've
already made the necessary arrangements."
   "Thanks. How's your mom?"
   "They're freezing her downstairs. The radiation dose she took
was killing her rather quickly."
   Johanes cringed, and Mike tried hard not to smirk.
   "I didn't know your mother very well, Ms. Arien, and I'm no
fan of the Draconian government, but I do hope they find a way to
make her better. I hope everything works out for both of you."
   Green eyes stared blankly back at him, either unimpressed or
vaguely angry.
   "You sound like you're making a farewell speech."
   Mike looked toward the ground, almost certain that he didn't
mean a word of it, and very certain that she knew.
   "I guess I am."
   She snorted on that one.
   "Y'know. If there's one thing about you neghrali, it's that
you're as presumptuous as hell. This may be news to you both, but
I'm going with you. And before you say anything stupid, just
remember, I've got more reason to want Sule than both of you put
together."
   The ride to Xekhasmeno aboard the Arien's grav limo proved
both safe and expedient. During the trip, Mike kept a watch out
the window as the amber glow of the city's electric barricade
grew slowly in the distance. The city itself, however, lay
covered in a murky shroud, as though the cold, ominous wind
sweeping beneath the clouds had shattered every light and killed
every flame. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kori
watching him, her green eyes glinting faintly in the silver
moonlight.
   "Pretty incredible, eh Harrison?"
   "The locals must of knocked out the main reactor or something.
The outer fence is on a separate capacitor."
   "You didn't think us locals had it in us, did you?"
   "You know, Korina, you're not really a local any more than
your father."
   "I was born here."
   Mike nodded and shrugged, "Well, congratulations."
   "Here Harrison. Watch this."
   She steered the limo into a dive so that Mike no longer had to
tilt his head to see the ground. The earth below was nearly
invisible against the night, a black tapestry marred only by a
single long row of glowing specks. Every now and then, one of the
specks would flare up and then die down slowly. As they continued
to descend, the reason for the congestion became apparent.
   There were rioters, perhaps a thousand or more: adults and
children and many somewhere in between, each hateful enough to
make the incident at the Arien estate seem more like a tea party.
Instead of tossing their molotov's on a green stretch of lawn,
they were throwing them into vehicles. One congregation worked on
forming a blockade with burnt-out automobiles while others took
pot shots at people as they ran from their cars. The smarter
motorists took their vehicles off-road and out of the death zone.
The limo leveled off at around a hundred meters altitude, and
Mike felt more thankful for gravitics than he could ever
remember.
   There was less bloodshed at city's gates. Starport authority
personnel had apparently been called out to supplement the city
guard. Together, they held the line at the customs checkpoints,
trying desperately to sift the deluge of legitimate inbounders
from those who would get into the city just to wreck havoc.
   The limo touched down outside the starport as a team of
Imperial inspectors cruised around checking city passports and
ID's. Mike was resigned to hiding beneath the floor in a tight
space the Arien's had reserved for special occasions. He felt the
gravitic propulsion kick in with a sudden jerk, knocking his head
against the compartment's wall, and by the time he crawled back
out, Kori was steering them into an anchoring shed over the
starport's upper concourse.
   The entire concourse deck was flooded with people, mostly
offworlders seeking shelter from the rowdy locals, while groups
of Calannic guards stood at the escalator entrances double-
checking ID's and frisking the prettier ladies. The power on the
escalators was down, and people were using them as stairs, most
pausing as they stepped on, as though expecting the metallic
steps to lurch from underneath and send them hurtling to the
bottom.
   "See something interesting?" It was Korina. Mike tried to
conjure a wholesome response, finally shaking his head and
frowning.
   "Here. This might help."
   She placed the helmet over his head, helping him lock it in
place. Mike squinted as the light-intensification automatically
switched on. He could suddenly see clear beyond the landing ledge
and all the way to the city gates. The moon glared like a strobe
light on full beam, its glassy surface seemingly enlarged by the
white clouds fusing beneath to form a bright, billowy halo.
   "Better?"
   "I guess. Any word from Vlep?"
   "He's been quiet ever since we left the mansion. I can barely
make out his breathing, but that's all. I'll give you a buzz on
the helmet when I find out more. Okay?"
   She patted him firmly on the head as she exited the vehicle
and began climbing down to the crowded deck, Johanes' reception
unit swinging back and forth on her belt.
   "Until we meet again, gatherer."
   "Where's she going?"
   The Draconian casually removed his white overcoat.
   "Somebody has to get Vlep's sheath and keep track of the
bugger, right? We'll meet her at the med bay when we're done
finalizing our arrangement with Gardansa."
   Mike chewed his upper lip as Jo started patching in a line to
the tower.
   "I'll talk with Gardansa alone, Jo. You'd better go with her."
   "You don't trust her?"
   "She's got revenge on her mind. She might try to go it alone."
   Johanes paused for a brief moment, finally putting his
overcoat back on and heaving himself out the door. Mike waited a
minute before placing the call.
   "Tower, this is the DSS. Get me General Gardansa."


                          *     *     *


Perkins sat at the edge of the airlock, fists sunken deep into
his pockets as the cold night air washed over his face and into
the hold. Beyond the landing platform, he could hear shouting and
the loose carnage of Imperial gunfire. Long ago, it could have
made him cringe, but he'd learned to expect such things from
Calanna. The mood of her people was as unpredictable as her
weather, balmy as a swamp on one evening and as cold as death the
next.
   He stood upright as the flat-top approached, Dilly behind the
controls, and two locals with badges wandering among the crates,
poking around here and there with Imperial mass detectors. Just
trying to look busy for each other, Wendell guessed, though he
had to wince and scrape a strange, leathery tongue off the roof
of his mouth. Dealing with newbies was almost always a problem.
He reminded himself to be polite, and stepped forward, nodding
and smiling.
   "Hi there."
   "You Captain Perkins?"
   "Call me Wendell."
   Deep brown eyes consulted a flimsi-leaf.
   "You fill claims form?"
   "My broker handles it."
   "Ah... where is?"
   "You should have it on page three-dee."
   The inspector tapped the corner of the flimsi with his light
pen, obviously struggling to find the correct cell. Wendell
smiled, trying to look alert and nonchalant all at the same time.
   "You boys are new at this, aren't you? Look, do you mind if we
load up here? We're sort of on a schedule and all, and I don't
want ol' Louise blown out of the sky 'cause we missed our launch
window. Okay?"
   He tagged it with a laugh. The two locals either didn't
understand or weren't paying attention.
   "Hello?"
   "Eh?"
   "Load cargo? Put boxes inside?"
   The one in charge nodded apologetically and waved his hand, as
non-committal a gesture as Wendell had ever witnessed. Dilly
seemed as confused as his boss until Wendell finally snorted and
spat on the white cement, narrowly missing the inspector's boots.
   "Go ahead Dil. If they start bitching, we'll just have to
stop."
   "Is okay." The inspector nodded again and then got a curious
look in his eyes, "We go in ship."
   "Well, that's perfectly understandable," he forced a grin.
"You are inspecting us, after all."


                          *     *     *


Mike yanked off his helmet, the resulting pressure release making
his ears pop as he stood squarely before the plush mahogany desk.
Grinning with a faint air of supremacy, the general tilted
backward as far as the gravitic recliner would allow. Like his
newfound power, it was just another toy, ripe for his sportive
abuse. Mike wondered how long Gardansa would last this time as
the general lifted his gaze, the fleshy folds of his chin
jiggling as he gurgled with delight.
   "Draconian Harrison, much time without sight as you
offworlders say, eh? How long has it been? Three whole days?"
   "Something on that order," Mike smiled and found himself a
seat, placing the helmet on a corner of the desk. "You're
surprised to see me, aren't you?"
   "Like this," Gardansa tilted upright, "who wouldn't be."
   "Forget the costume. It isn't important. Forget even why I'm
here, and why you're behind that desk instead of hiding away like
some snake."
   Gardansa's eyes widened for a moment, as though he were
contemplating calling his guards. Then he leaned back again,
letting the gravitic waves catch his fall.
   "An angry gatherer, eh? I am really the one who should be
angry, you know. Did you see what they did to my car? To my
driver?"
   He continued with a feeble shrug, "Even though you are angry,
and have every right to be maddened by rage, you must believe
that I had no idea that ISIS wanted you dead. I guessed only that
they wanted to talk to you and that they would catch you sooner
or later despite your best efforts. You remember how I tried to
convince you to leave the planet? But no, you would have none of
my advice. So what was I to do? Let you slip between my fingers?
Let you walk into their arms without even the gentlest of
nudges?"
   "Why not?"
   Gardansa smirked, then sat upright as if to make an important
point.
   "Because like your friend, Mister Dulin, I was rotting.
Deprived of all freedoms, I was less than dead. You asked me to
free him, and yet you expected me to do nothing on my own
behalf?"
   "I trusted you."
   "Then you made a mistake. And so did I. Here, let us drink to
the hope that we will both make many more before the fates claim
us, eh?"
   Gardansa opened a desk drawer and pulled out two glasses of
white brandy, already poured and ready for drinking. That was the
sort of alcoholic he was. He didn't merely get drunk. He planned
for it well in advance. Mike accepted the glass, placing it on
the edge of the table without taking so much as a sip. The
general watched him with a curious stare.
   "Go ahead. It is not poison."
   "I don't believe in fate," Mike explained.
   "Then believe in luck. Worship her, my friend, for she
worships you like no man I've ever known." And with that, the
general's eyes widened again as he downed his glass in one,
fitful gulp. Mike smiled, sipping his own.
   "You also, General. And remember, it is not often, on Calanna,
one is granted a reprieve. I assume you've been briefed by my
associate?"
   "Johanes. His name was Johanes, yes?"
   "If that's what he told you."
   "He told me you are looking for a bio-synthe and a psyche. My
people are watching for them, although I make no promises.
Smuggling has been elevated to a form of art on Calanna, and my
resources are already stretched to their limit. It is more than
conceivable that they could slip through."
   Mike shook his head, "It's not the finding part that I'm
worried about."


                          *     *     *


Dilly breathed a sigh of relief as the inspectors steered the
flat-top back down the loading ramp. What they lacked in
efficiency they had more than accounted for in thoroughness. Back
in the hold, Wendell was opening up his special box, the one that
would double their profits and pay for some much needed repairs.
He helped his Captain get the top off and fetched a pair of
blankets out of the locker.
   By the time he returned, a tall blonde woman had slipped out
from beneath the numerous sacks of half-frozen quagga livers. She
pulled out her companion with a determined yank, and he fell to
the floor, clutching his sides and shaking from the cold. Dilly
had to chuckle to himself as he held his nose before the wretched
and exceedingly smelly pair.
   Wendell handed over the blankets, trying hard to sound
official, "Welcome aboard the very independent freighter, Louise.
This here is my first mate, who's going to check you folks out
whether you like it or not, so I suggest you just stay put and be
friendly."
   Dilly slowly inched the metal scanner up and down the woman's
sides.
   *Beep*
   He didn't feel her swipe his feet off the floor until he was
laying on his spine, clutching the back of his head and making
angry faces. Her silver eyes flickered with something between
hatred and amusement, and he felt his legs inch him back along
the steel plate floor almost of their volition. The Captain,
automatic pistol in hand, looked only moderately impressed.
   "Not a wise move, lady."
   "Frisking was not part of our contract."
   "It is now. Show us what you've got, or there will be no
contract."
   Several strands of snowy white hair fell across her face as
she tilted toward her silent companion. For his benefit, or so
she made it seem, she extracted the object of interest, a small
metallic cylinder, its golden head shimmering in the dim actinic
light of the hold. Wendell studied it from afar, motioning his
first mate to once again preform his duties.
   "You hand it to Dilly now."
   "And if I don't?"
   "Look lady, I'll transport you and take the risk of getting
caught, but I'll not strain my luck with my own quiet cargo."
   "You are straining your luck, Captain. And my patience. This
is a personal item. It does not concern you."
   "What is it?"
   "A transmitter."
   Wendell squinted his eyes, finally waving his mate to continue
the scan.
   "Except for that one thing, she's clean."
   "Fine. Now try this one."
   Her companion tried to crawl away as Dilly approached.
   "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt."
   "No..."
   *Beep*


                          *     *     *


Gardansa arched his eyebrows, an incredulous smirk traversing the
width of his face.
   "Friends of yours?"
   *Beep*
   Mike grimaced, "One can never tell."
   Gardansa watched, the petulant folds of his fleshy chin
jiggling at the slight as his neghrali friend placed the helmet
over his head.
   "What's up? ...okay... consider it done." Mike whisked off the
helmet, "Sule's on the Merchant Vessel 'Louise'. She knows she's
been spotted."
   Gardansa nodded, pushing a button on his desk. "This is
Gardansa; get me Colonel Fen immediately."
   "...Fen here, General."
   "Where is the vessel 'Louise', Colonel?"
   "...Parked on platform eight."
   "Seal off platform eight. Nobody comes off it."
   "Yessir."
   He pushed the button twice more, this time seeming in no
particular hurry.
   "Get me Kano Magor."
   He turned to Mike, "Platform eight is a parking lot, Michael.
She isn't going to have time to escape us on foot, and if she
takes to the air, we will shoot her down."
   "...Magor reporting, General. What seems to be the problem?"
   "You have been restless and eager, Commander. Now it it time
to prove your competence. I need an air strike on the 'Louise', a
vessel on platform eight."
   "Ah... an air strike, General??"
   "I also need you to float whatever you have in the air over
that platform to make sure that nobody gets off it alive. Am I
clear?"
   "Very."
   "That will be all. Oh... and do not worry about peripheral
damage. It is expected."
   "Yessir."
   Gardansa pushed his button again, a smug laugh escaping his
lips. Mike could easily see why he liked having power. It meant
he could overkill with complete impunity.


                          *     *     *


"This channel is restricted. If you wish to reach Commodore
Reece, I suggest you leave a message with the Imperial embassy
on-planet."
   The voice on the other end coughed.
   "Look, whoever the hell you are, I don't have time for this
shit!"
   "I'm sorry but..."
   Tabor swore and pulled the reception cap off his head, drawing
more attention that he cared for, particularly with Captain
Dunham less than ten paces from his station. Dunham regarded him
with that peculiar, ebony-eyed stare that he hated so much.
   "Problem, Ensign?"
   Tabor shook his head, then nodded, then opened his mouth to
explain.
   "Captain," Lish looked up from her station, "I've been
monitoring the starport as you requested."
   "One moment, Lieutenant."
   "Sir, there's been a disturbance."
   "Rioters?"
   "Unknown, sir. My readings show surface explosions."
   "Explosions?"
   "Yes sir."
   The dark creases along his forehead wrinkled in consternation.
   "Give me that, Tabor. Hello?"
   The channel yielded only static, then a cough, then a voice,
as ragged and course as a sander on flesh.
   "Who... hell are you?"
   "I am Captain Dunham of the Crimson Queen. And who the hell,
may I ask, are you?"
   "ISIS... operative."
   "ISIS?... Hello?!"
   "Tell Commodore... hurt. Hurt bad. Get off this planet
alive... mission success. Need air support."
   "Wait. Mission... what mission?"
   "Tell her. ISIS out."


           _   /|
           \`o_O'          Jim Vassilakos
             ( )     <---  jimv@ucrmath.ucr.edu
              U            ucsd!ucrmath!jimv (uucp)
           Aachk!

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