STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (34 page)

W
hen the shuttle landed late at night at Walthor Starport, Friend Chivon Lasster waited for it on the tarmac. Her own starship, the
Eagle
, was berthed not far away, silvery tip pointed toward the glittery canopy of stars. The ensign the Council had sent with her had already turned in for the night.

The ramp slid out, touching the ground with gentle precision. Soon after, Friend Zarpfrin briskly stepped down. He was in a hurry, and didn’t notice anyone as he descended.

“Welcome to Walthor,” said Lasster, smiling wryly.

Zarpfrin did a double take. “Friend Lasster … what are you doing here?”

“I thought it necessary to help you oversee operations. Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

Zarpfrin gestured brusquely for her to accompany him and his entourage. “It’s just as well. Things have heated up a bit.”

“The war … ?”

“No … this Northern business.”

She tried to control her emotions from rising to her voice. “Oh?”

“Yes. But it’s muggy out here, and I’m hungry. Let’s go and have a late dinner and tell you all about it.”

Z
arpfrin pushed back his plate and patted his protuberant stomach in a satisfied manner. Chivon Lasster was still astonished. “You almost had him,” she said.

“Yes,” said Zarpfrin. “Right in my lap! If I had been prepared … well, we would have had the bastard and his ship. You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I would.”

“Well, no matter. I settled things with Freeman Jonst. Ruffled feathers all around, but the plan is still working.”

“As it is everywhere.”

“Yes.” Zarpfrin sipped his coffee. “And why shouldn’t it? Those colonies are scared. Naturally they should accept the help of their fellow humans. We have made the very best of a bad situation, Friend Lasster, have we not? And as the architect of the plan, how can I not take satisfaction in its obvious efficiency?”

“Let’s just hope the Jaxdron are truly repelled if they do choose to attack these Free Worlds the Federation is protecting.”

“Oh, I suspect we may well lose a few. But think of all the ones we will gain. Back in the Federation, Lasster. Once the aliens are repelled, we will have total power over these planets. A little gunboat diplomacy, some institutional and social manipulation, and within fifteen years they will be full members once more of the Human Federation. With outposts in the very center of the Free Worlds, we can begin working on the other worlds. Within a generation, now that travel and communications have been speeded up tremendously, humankind will exist in solidarity. My dream, Lasster … this is what my life is dedicated to!”

“Yes, and I have been of some help, have I not, Zarpfrin?”

“Oh, yes, indeed you have, my dear. Without your administration abilities, the organization of this project would not have been possible. Without a doubt, you will be rewarded, Friend Lasster. All our ambitions will as rewarded handsomely, I’m sure.”

“It is too bad you lost Tars Northern, though,” said Lasster.

“Oh,” Zarpfrin said, his eyes twinkling. “I think we might have another chance sometime soon with him. But how go our operations on Walthor? I presume that this is the reason for your visit here.”

“Yes. Production on the devices is being kept up. Within two years, at my estimate, dissemination throughout the empire and most of the Free Worlds will be complete, and we shall be able to have reconnaissance of every world with our infiltration spyware. Already, the systems are working at full efficiency, compiling signals into a comprehensive overview of the situation.”

“Excellent! Your contribution is most appreciated, Friend Lasster.”

Her contributions, thought Chivon Lasster. Yes, she had made many contributions. She had been devoted to this task that Zarpfrin had spoken of … for years now. To reunite the Federation—it seemed so grand an idea, so important. Together with Arnal Zarpfrin, she had set this scheme in motion, this brilliant opportunity that had fallen into their laps with the advent of the war with the Jaxdron.

So simple, so beautiful … it could not fail. But now, with what she knew, she knew it had to fail.

“One matter, though, Zarpfrin, I should like to bring up.” Lasster paused, choosing her words carefully.

“And what is that, Friend Lasster?” Zarpfrin said, placing his cup back in its saucer and lacing his fingers together, fixing his attention fully upon his underling.

“I wonder if your fixation with Tars Northern might not be draining needed attention from other aspects of your projects. I wonder, Friend Zarpfrin, if I might be allowed to assume full responsibility for his search.”

Zarpfrin blinked. “I know well your feelings on the matter of Northern, but I wonder why you request this, Lasster.”

“To relieve you of the effort, as I said.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Friend Lasster. As I hinted, I have the matter well in hand.”

“But surely you realize that if your plan with Laura Shemzak worked, then she will join forces with him and most certainly come looking for you. I mean causing her to kill that brother of hers is deadly stuff.”

“I have taken that into account. And you are quite right. Laura Shemzak’s XT Mark Nine was used successfully in escaping Federation forces. She is quite alive and no doubt would very much like to deal with rue in a harsh and nasty fashion. But I have, as I mentioned, allowed for all that and am quite prepared for that eventuality.”

“Ah, I see. But there’s more to this AI business than you’re letting on, isn’t there? You need the
Starbow …
that’s why you’re so desperate to get it.”

“It works against the Federation now, it works against me—of course I should very much like to either capture it or destroy it. But to reiterate, I can very well handle the situation.” He smiled mischievously. “In fact, it may very well be the case, Friend Lasster, that the matter may be dealt with very soon. Now, I should retire. I trust that you’ll take me for a tour of facilities in the morning?”

Lasster nodded, wondering what Zarpfrin was talking about but not willing to press the subject.

T
he first rays of the alien sun over the jungles of Walthor found a caravan of trucks moving onto the paved road that led to the Block compound. In the front of one of the trucks sat three beings: one driver and two passengers. Uncomfortable passengers.

“Haven’t they got any air-conditioning in this heap?” asked Tars Northern. “This outfit is killing me.”

“You’ll just have to endure it, Tars,” said Laura Shemzak, “Air-conditioning awaits us, I assure you.”

They both wore extremely detailed latex masks which made them look like M’towi tribesmen, along with the ceremonial robes of Walthor traders. Beside them, Xersi drove silently and intently, concentrating on keeping the truck dead center on the narrow road.

“For once, I’m actually looking forward to putting myself into the clutches of the Federation. At least it will be cool there.”

“Other than sweaty, how are you?”

“Just fine, thank you.” He turned toward her, though she could not read his expression through the mask. “Relaxed, actually, Laura. You were right about the gloc … no after effects. Though I can’t remember exactly what happened last night.”

“Nothing. We went back after our talk with Xersi and you collapsed.”

“My rotten luck. Alone with a beautiful and passionate woman, and I had to be crocked.”

“Wouldn’t have done you any good if you’d been totally straight, Tars, I quite assure you.”

She paused, wondering whether or not to tell him. Why not? she thought. “I did pry some interesting things out of you, though.”

“Did you now?” Tars’ eyes kept straight ahead, staring at the passing vine laden treetops, voice suddenly emotionless.

“Nothing to worry about. Just a deep secret.”

“Oh?”

“I asked why you drank so much, and you told me the truth. I’d wondered why you seemed so close to Dr. Mish—I mean, the ship—and now I know. It’s that simple.”

“Ah … yes.”

“Which explains why you didn’t bring a flask or anything. You’re out of range of subliminal contact with Mish, so you don’t need to drink alcohol.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t take a martini with lunch, Laura,” said Northern. “Truth to tell, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t take a cold gin fizz right now. Though a glass of water would do, I suppose.”

Laura asked Xersi for a canteen and they drank.

“You’re sure this is going to work?” Northern said.

“Xersi says that the guards barely notice the help. We’ll get in, and while we’re helping to unload the trucks, we can just take off.”

“Lucky you know the Block’s compound.”

“Yes, it is fortunate.” She looked out of the front window. Rising up from the tops of the trees in the distance, the high-rises of the compound grew like sculpted mountains. “There they are, Northern. Let’s get this straight. I slip off and repeat my little data smash-and-grab while you skulk about the manufacturing area, checking for Jaxdron spyware.”

“But not in this getup, fortunately.” Xersi had provided them both with Federation uniforms and forged identification so they could get by security.

“I’m not real crazy being an alien.”

“Hey, just remember, on this planet you’re the alien.”

“Right.” He glanced over at the M’towi, still intently driving. “You’ve thanked him for his help?”

“Oh yes. And he’s more than happy to work against the Federation in any way he can.”

Xersi seemed to sense the tack the conversation had taken. “If there is anything else that I may do … ”

“No, Xersi,” said Laura, reverting to the native’s language. “You’re taking enough risk as it is.”

The being’s skin seemed somehow paler in this early morning light, though Laura had no way of knowing what emotions were being reflected in its face. Even though she was capable of understanding and speaking the language with the help of her implanted device and had spent time with them before, she actually knew very little about the deeper motivations within the native Walthorian peoples.

“Very well,” said Xersi. “As you wish, Unloading and business matters and such can be stretched out to a maximum of three hours. The compound will harbor unadapted Walthor life no longer than that.”

Laura translated for Northern, who agreed they could easily accomplish their mission in that time period.

“Unadapted?” Northern asked. “What does he mean by that?”

“Biological slaves concocted by the Federation using the three native intelligent species, with a few other interesting native species thrown in for good measure, They call them Conglomerates, and they wear identity meshes wired to their nervous systems. Sort of like biological robots—needless to say, it’s one of the Federation’s crimes here on this distant outpost. We might well find evidence to support the fact that the Feddies are looking to spread these kind of factory worlds, and experiments with Conglomerates, to other worlds. That, Captain Northern, will go a long way toward convincing the Free Worlds to stay free, and toward organizing them into a group effort to stay so!”

Northern tapped his pocket. “Well, I’ll be making a recording everything taking place in there, so—”

“You really needn’t have bothered,” said Laura, tapping her left eye. “Every biologically implanted Feddy agent has plenty of cybernetic holo recorders built into our optic system.”

“You just worry about doing the necessary system hacks, Lady Googoo,” Northern said. “That’s the most important thing, not some photo shoot for your latest magazine interview.”

“Yes, O lord and master!” Laura said, looking at Tars with surprise. Obviously, he had done some research on the history of her cover name before they had left.

“Oh, and you might start working up a speech on Federation atrocities. You may be right, it could be a valuable political tool.”

Laura smiled at his approval, despite herself. “Yes, Captain, I certainly will. You must give me a few pointers of speech making, though. You seem to enjoy that part of your captaincy the most.”

“Only too glad to help out, my dear,” he replied in a mock condescending manner.

The convoy consisted of four large multi-terrain trucks. They were the third in line. The trucks stopped in front of the walled gate to the compound, the initial identification screenings were made by human guards, and one by one the trucks rumbled through the passage. As predicted by Xersi, their counterfeit IDs were enough to get them through security.

Their truck rolled through the gate, traveled some distance beside a huge building, then turned down a ramp and into a tunnel that led to the bowels of the building. Within a minute the tunnel opened into a huge subterranean chamber. A number of unloading bays lined one wall.

“This is it,” Xersi told Laura as he wheeled his truck around, to back it as near as possible to the dock. “Over there are the doors I told you about. No security. The rest is as I described it to you … and as you remember. It’s up to you. Just be back within the time I’ve allowed.”

They hopped out and went to work, helping to unload the contents of the truck—mostly produce. After a few minutes work, when they were reasonably sure they were not being watched, Northern and Laura ducked into the shadows of the hold and removed their disguises, emerging dressed in the khaki coveralls emblazoned with the standard emblem of the human worker in the compound: a seven-pointed star.

They traveled past the conveyer belts where the produce was being loaded, and entered the hallway where they would split up.

Laura nodded at Northern, he winked at her, then they went their separate ways wordlessly, knowing full well the dangers they could be walking into.

Laura was particularly worried about Northern—after all, he usually functioned as head of a team, and now he was on his own. And while she had the plans of the compound mnemonically emblazoned within, as well as experience with these hallways, Northern only had a rough idea and a standard Federation data pad to find his way back.

Still, she thought as she made her way through the long passageway, he doesn’t seem daunted in the least, and he has years of experience with this sort of rough and tumble pi-merc stuff. I shouldn’t worry.

But nonetheless, she did.