Rebel (3 page)

"He's probably just having a little fun at your expense," said Cole. He put an arm around the Molarian's shoulders. "Come on, Four Eyes. It's just another week. You've waited half a Standard year, you can wait a few more days."

"I know, I know," said Forrice glumly. He got to his feet. "I'm going to wander the streets feeling sorry for myself. If I'm lucky, maybe some mugger will attack me. I've got a
lot
of extra aggression tonight."

He turned and headed out of the casino.

"Poor bastard," remarked Cole. "Nature played a hell of a trick on the Molarians. The females are seasonal, but the males are always ready."

"You're very fond of him, aren't you?" asked the Duke.

"He's been my closest friend for, I don't know, twelve or thirteen years."

"I find that surprising."

"Why?" said Cole. "Molarians are the only race besides Man with a sense of humor. He's smart, he's witty, he's brave, he's loyal, and"— Cole smiled—"he leaves Sharon alone, even at times like this."

"Well," said the Duke, "how about dinner?"

"Yeah, we could use some real food after all those damned soya products on the ship," said Cole. "What have you got tonight?"

The Duke recited the day's menu, Cole and Sharon made their choices, David Copperfield ordered a steak that they all knew he wasn't going to touch, and a few minutes later the meal was served.

And five minutes after that, Val walked over and sat down with them.

"Ah, the lovely and remarkable Valkyrie!" said the Duke by way of greeting.

"Can it," she said. "I'm not in the mood."

"You lost it that fast?"

"Shut up and give me something to eat."

"She lost it that fast," Cole confirmed with a smile.

Val glared at him, and Sharon decided he was the only living entity in the galaxy who could have said that without being decapitated two seconds later.

Cole made his way to the
Teddy R's
security section, where he found Luthor Chadwick, Sharon Blacksmith's second-in-command, sitting in front of a bank of monitors, keeping a watchful eye on all crew members who remained onboard the ship.

Chadwick snapped him a salute. "Hello, sir," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Cole resisted the urge to tell him to stop saluting. "Is your boss in her office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alone, or still interviewing our new recruits from Machtel's crew?"

"I believe she's alone, sir." He checked a monitor. "Yes, sir. She's finished the last of them a few minutes ago."

"Good. That's what I want to talk to her about."

Cole approached the door to Sharon's office, which instantly read his retina and bone structure, and irised to allow him to step through.

"How's it going?" he asked.

Sharon leaned back on her chair. "I'd call them a mixed lot."

"You want to expand on that?"

"They're outlaws and cutthroats, Wilson."

"So are we, except for the cutthroat part," replied Cole. "How many can we work with?"

"Well, you've got three who are borderline psychopaths and one who crossed that border years ago. I suppose we can fit the rest in."

"Okay," said Cole. "That's still fifty-three more crew members. Give me the names of the four crazies."

She ordered her computer to print out the four names.

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her. "The sooner we get the bad eggs off the ships, the less contamination we risk."

"I'd be
very
careful handling them, Wilson," she said. "You've got a couple of real killer-dillers there."

"Well, if you're going to keep a few systems under your thumb the way Machtel did, I suppose you need some real killer-dillers."

"What do you plan to do with them?" asked Sharon. "We can't just turn them loose on Singapore Station."

"I know," said Cole. "I suppose I could just have Val beat the shit out of them twice a day until she's broken their spirits."

"Seriously."

"Seriously? We'll confiscate their weapons and dump them on some world that's got a competent police force. If I can't turn them loose in Singapore Station, and I agree that I can't, I sure as hell can't turn them loose on some little pastoral farming world. They'd rob and kill the first family they came upon and swipe their ship."

"Well, when you decide exactly where you're placing them, let me know so I can notify the authorities."

"Will do," said Cole. "In fact, I suppose I'd better get the ball rolling. Lunch later?"

"Here or the station?"

"The station has real food, the
Teddy R
has soya products. Which do you think?"

She smiled. "I'll meet you at Duke's Place in a couple of hours."

"Fine."

He turned and left her office, walked out of the security section to a nearby airlift, took it down two levels, got off, and approached the smallish room that had been turned into a very undersized gymnasium. He entered it and found himself facing Eric Pampas, a muscular young man, and the Valkyrie. Both were lifting weights, weights Cole was sure no one else on the ship, even some of the sturdier aliens, could budge.

"Good morning, sir," said Pampas, putting his barbell on the floor and saluting.

"Good morning, Bull," replied Cole. "Are you two just about done?"

"Another five minutes," said Val. "What's up?"

"Sharon's interviewed the new crew, had the computer run psych tests on them, and she tells me we've got four serious nutcases."

"Only four?" said Val, lifting her weight again. "That's better than last time."

"I've got a list of their names. Jacovic is keeping an eye on all the new crew members aboard the
Silent Dart
until they receive their ship assignments. I want you to pull these four out and—"

"—beat a little obedience into them?" concluded Val. "Good. Bull needs the exercise. I'll lend a hand if he needs it."

"Try not to understand me so fast," said Cole. "I want you and Bull to load them into the
Red Sphinx.
Stay with them until you land, make sure they're not in the middle of a desert or a wilderness, give them back any weaponry they'll need to defend themselves but nothing powerful enough to cause any serious problems to the local constabulary—I'll leave it to your judgment—and then have Perez bring you back to Singapore Station."

"We could kill them right now and save a lot of trouble," said Val. "You set 'em loose on some third-rate world and they're likely to feel betrayed and resentful."

"Why?" said Cole. "We could have destroyed them back in the Pirelli Cluster, but we let them live."

"If they were sane enough to take that into account, you wouldn't be dumping them, would you?" replied Val.

"Val, we're not cold-blooded killers," said Cole. "Well,
some
of us aren't," he amended. "Just do what I tell you to do."

"I hope they decide they don't want to go," she said.

"Bull," said Cole, turning to the young man, "if that's the case, make sure it was
their
decision and not
hers"

Pampas, finding himself between the Captain and the Third Officer, nodded an agreement but didn't salute, which seemed to satisfy both of them.

"Okay," said Cole. "Finish up, shower, and get over to the
Silent Dart
in an hour. By the time you transfer them to the
Red Sphinx,
Perez will know where you're going."

Cole left the room and took a different airlift up to the bridge, where he found young blonde Rachel Marcos sitting at the computer complex.

"Good morning, sir," she said, standing and saluting.

"Good morning. I've lost track of the time. When is Christine back on duty?"

"It's still red shift for another two hours, sir. She'll come on when it's white shift."

"I need some information sooner than that," said Cole, frowning. "Hunt up the three nearest nonagricultural oxygen worlds possessing organized law enforcement and reliable medical and transportation facilities."

She spoke a code that he didn't understand, and a moment later the computer threw up a holograph of the sector, with Singapore Station and three reasonably close worlds brilliantly highlighted.

"Any immigration restrictions on any of them?"

Another coded statement. "Yes, sir. Niarchos IV is currently closed to human immigration."

"Which of the other two has the larger police force?"

She asked the computer, and suddenly only one planet was flashing. "Mirbeau III, sir."

"Thanks. That should do it."

Cole walked over to stand beneath the half-sling half-cocoon that held Wxakgini, the Bdxeni pilot whose race never slept and whose neural circuits were wired into the ship's navigational system.

"Pilot," said Cole, who had long since given up trying to pronounce Wxakgini's name, "are there any wormholes between our present location and Mirbeau III? You can get its coordinates from the computer."

"Yes," answered Wxakgini, whose response to Cole's inability to learn his name was to never call Cole "sir." "The Yoriba Wormhole will let a ship out near the fourth planet of the Mirbeau system."

"Transit time from Singapore Station?"

"Utilizing the wormhole, four hours and seventeen minutes," replied the pilot. "Through normal space at light speeds, just under four days."

"Okay, thanks," said Cole. He turned back to Rachel. "Contact Mr. Perez. Tell him he's about to be visited by Val, Bull, and four of Machtel's men. Have him warn his crew that the men are highly dangerous, and to keep clear of them. He's to utilize the Yoriba Wormhole and drop them off on Mirbeau III."

"Should I clear it with the planetary authorities first, sir?" asked Rachel.

Cole shook his head. "What if they say no? Tell Sharon to alert them
after
Perez has dropped off his cargo and is heading back to Singapore Station."

"Yes, sir."

"By the way, has Four Eyes returned to the ship yet?"

"I believe he's in the mess hall, sir."

"Thanks," said Cole, heading off to an airlift. He descended to the mess hall, entered it, saw Forrice sitting alone at a table, and joined him.

"Up to a little work this afternoon?"

"We don't have afternoons in space," replied the Molarian.

"I know, but it's easier to say than 'Up to a little work this white shift?'"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Val and Bull Pampas are about to separate the psychos and put them down on an innocent, unsuspecting planet," said Cole. "I'd like you, Jacovic, Domak, and Sokolov to take the remaining recruits and their ships out and put them through some more exercises and see what they can do. We know they can terrorize innocent planet-dwellers; let's see if they can take orders and execute military maneuvers."

"I suppose it makes sense," agreed Forrice. "If there are anymore washouts, we might as well find out now."

"I want you aboard that class-K ship, the one called
Hummer."

"Any reason why?"

Cole nodded. "It has an all-human crew. I want to make sure they'll take orders from a member of another race."

"What they do now and what they'll do when they're under fire may not be the same thing," noted Forrice.

Cole shrugged. "Perhaps not, but we've got to start somewhere."

"All right," replied the Molarian. "I'll let Jacovic devise the exercises. He's got a command of military maneuvers that even impresses me."

"That's why he was in charge of the Fifth Teroni Fleet. At one time I think he had over ten thousand ships under his command." Cole paused. "We haven't needed him yet, knock wood, but when we finally do, we're going to be damned glad we've got him."

"We fought against each other for years," remarked Forrice. "I'm surprised he doesn't feel any animosity toward us."

"Do you feel any toward him?"

"No," admitted the Molarian. "The way I view it, we were all just soldiers doing our job."

"There's your answer," said Cole.

"Also, the one time we confronted him, he had us dead in his sights, and he behaved like an honorable being," continued Forrice. "There aren't a lot of those in
any
race."

"You never know where an honorable being will crop up," agreed Cole. "Or even a competent one."

"Maybe we can spot one during the exercises this afternoon," offered Forrice.

"I doubt it," said Cole. "If he was honorable, he wouldn't have been working for Machtel, and if he was competent, he'd have deposed Machtel and taken over his operation by now."

The Molarian stared at his old friend for a long moment. "You know," he said at last, "I just hate it when you make sense. So many problems were simpler when they only had me thinking about them."

"I apologize."

"Damned well better," growled Forrice.

"You're a little ray of sunshine today."

"Guess why."

"The Navy will clear out in another day or two, and you can spend a week fucking your brains out on Braccio II."

"Two weeks."

"I don't want you coming back so thin that we have to carry you to your post every clay."

"You've been sharing your bed with Sharon for almost two years, and it hasn't cost
you
any weight.''

Sharon's image popped into view. "That's because he just lies there and I do all the work."

"You were listening?" asked Cole.

"I'm the Chief of Security. It's my job to be nosy."

"I've changed my mind," said Cole. "Four Eyes, if you want her you can have her."

"If the Navy sticks around another week," replied Forrice with a hoot of alien laughter, "I may take you up on that."

After the Molarian had finished his meal and left, Sharon's image appeared opposite Cole again.

"You know," she said seriously, "I'm hardly shy, and I haven't been virginal in a long time—but I find the crew's constant obsession with brothels disquieting. Not just the men. I know Val frequents that one that supplies male androids. And here's dear old Forrice unable to talk about anything else. Don't you find it all rather ... I don't know . . . tawdry?"

"You have to put it in perspective," answered Cole. "Look at our situation. We can't go back to the Republic. We can't have families and settle down. We live in a sexual universe, and we have sexual needs. You and I lucked out and found each other, but whorehouses are what most of them have to settle for. When you're an outlaw ship—an outlaw
fleet
now—with prices on your heads, the last thing you want are long-term relationships with any planet-dwellers. So you make your accommodation."

"You know," she said after a moment, "I think I agree with Forrice."

"About what?"

"I just hate it when you make sense. You take away all my distaste for a clearly distasteful situation."

"I was planning on taking you to that elegant new restaurant that just opened up on the sixth level of the station," said Cole. "They're supposed to have mutated bison imported from Pollux IV. I suppose we should each pay our own way to avoid another distasteful situation."