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Admiral Roth’s flagship the Sentinel drifted in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest star system twenty light-years away and the edge of the Federation’s territories thirty-three. And somewhere beyond this vast sea of emptiness was the Harskan sector.
Commodore Hallyd scowled at the field of stars sprawling across the bridge viewscreen.
“Is this it?” he asked, turning to face Roth.
“We’re here,” Roth said, here being the planned position where the Sentinel would be able to establish a clear transmission to the Harskan leaders on El’aesi.
“About time,” the commodore said. “With all the delays you’ve caused, you’ve kept me away from Corsida for three weeks now.”
“I’m sure they’ve been able to manage,” Roth told him. “Besides, would you have preferred it if I had allowed those pirates to continue disrupting that trade route? Left Saeban without fuel supplies for a few months, while letting a few hundred more innocent people get killed?”
“I would have preferred it,” Commodore Hallyd replied, almost spitting the words out, “if you had sent another ship to deal with the problem. I find it hard to believe there weren’t any ships closer to the Saeban system at the time. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if your motivation in handling the situation yourself had been nothing more than a ruse to stall my address to the Harskans.”
“Really, Commodore,” Roth chided him. “I’m surprised at you. Do you sincerely believe I would deliberately delay a mission of such importance?”
The commodore turned away, glowering. “I wonder.”
“Well, we’re here now,” the admiral said. “Ready to transmit when you are.”
––––––––
Two and a half hours later, Commodore Hallyd was hard at it, talking to a diplomatic representative who was handling the discussions on the behalf of the Harskan Elders. And his annoyance that he wouldn’t be permitted to speak to anyone higher in the ranks could have been a bit more subtle.
From the other side of the bridge, Admiral Roth watched alongside the captain of the Sentinel.
“Well, Captain Merrick,” he said. “It seems the proceedings are going smoothly, wouldn’t you say?”
“What is he doing?” the younger man wondered. “Does he want to start a war with these people?”
“He’s playing a power game,” Roth explained. “And considering that’s all he ever does, one can hardly expect anything else from the man. Let’s hope the indifference the Harskans are famed for extends far enough to ignore his offence.”
“They’re not at all alarmed by his threats though, are they?”
Roth favored the captain with a smile. “You noticed that?”
“Well, they must have recognized the commodore’s authority,” Merrick pointed out. “They would certainly know he speaks on Corinthe’s behalf. Yet, they made him wait two hours to talk to anyone. And I don’t know for sure but it seems to me that Harskan representative is bored more than anything else. He seems to be agreeing with the commodore to... well...” He trailed off, not wishing to say something untoward about a superior officer.
“To shut him up?” Roth suggested, having no such reservations.
“Well, yes.”
“I agree,” the admiral said.
For a few moments, neither man spoke and the only sound on the bridge was the conversation between Commodore Hallyd and the Harskan on the monitor.
“Are you all right?” Merrick asked.
Roth frowned. “I was just thinking. The Harskans have some impressive resources at their disposal but nobody really knows the full extent of their capabilities. I’d like to find out.”
“I take it this won’t be a formal investigation?”
“No,” Roth replied. “This is simply for my own curiosity. After all, it’d be fairly unlikely the Harskans would wage a war over an insult. I’ll put my own men on the job. Besides, I don’t want to leave the navy’s intelligence network undermanned, do I?”
“No,” Merrick agreed. “Although isn’t mounting an investigation to simply satisfy your curiosity somewhat excessive?”
Roth glanced at Commodore Hallyd before replying. “You’re right, Captain. There’s more to it than that.” He lowered his voice. “I know what my men will find. However, what they will provide me with is documentation, along with photographic evidence of just a sample of what the Harskans have at their disposal. Evidence that I can present to Corinthe and this glorified secretary of his if they decide to press this matter with the Harskans further. I believe I can put an end to this particular part of Corinthe’s plans.”
“And the rest of them?”
“That is the question.”
––––––––
“So, what’s the plan?” Asten asked, leaning back as the ship shot off on its pre-programmed course.
“As I explained,” Drackson said, “because it would be difficult for me to negotiate with the Harskan Elders, I need to find someone who can do so on my behalf but I have someone in mind. However, just leave everything to me. For the moment, you and Carla can sit back and relax.
Asten clasped his hands together. “Great.”
Carla leaned forward from her seat behind them. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do, Drackson?”
“Actually, there really isn’t,” Drackson replied. “The less you two are involved, the better our chances. You know a number of Harskans don’t really care for humans too much, or anybody who isn’t Harskan.”
“That’s right,” Asten said, turning around. “Anyway, what are you trying to do, Carla? If we don’t have to do anything, we can look at this trip as a well-earned holiday.”
Carla slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be so lazy.”
Asten laughed and climbed out of his seat. “Come on, let’s go and get something to eat.”
The others followed him out of the cockpit—although he ducked back in by himself to check something—then they all went to the galley, pulled out some containers and cutlery, grabbed some drinks and headed into the lounge area.
“What’s this?” Carla asked, peeling back the lid of her container and inspecting the contents inside.
“Some local dish I picked up back on Palanami,” Asten told her. “I’ve heard it’s quite good. Gaerejash or something like that.”
“Oh, Gaelejish,” Drackson said. “Yes, I’ve heard it’s good too.”
Carla tried a bit. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
Asten took a sip of his drink. “Only the best for my crew.”
For a little while, no one said anything as they all enjoyed their meal. Then Carla spoke up. “So, this is different. Working for the resistance movement.”
“A resistance movement,” Asten corrected her. “There must be at least a dozen of the things. Although our client seems to hold this one in high esteem.”
“Well, if a lieutenant is able to hire mercenaries for rates like this without consulting higher authorities, then they must be a fairly large organization,” Carla pointed out.
“Assuming Lieutenant Janson wasn’t acting outside his boundaries,” Asten countered. “But you’re probably right.”
“Anyway,” Carla continued, unperturbed, “I think we could really do some good with this.”
“Maybe,” Asten said, his thoughts elsewhere.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Just before I left the cockpit, I thought I saw another ship on the radar. But if there was, it must have dropped off the scopes.”
“Oh well,” Carla murmured. “I’m sure it’s all right. You know, it could have just been a glitch.”
Asten shrugged. “Yeah, that’s possible, I suppose.” They finished their dinner and, with the ship on a pre-programmed course for the next twelve hours, turned in to get some sleep.
––––––––
Khalin checked her instruments one more time just to be sure. There was no mistake. She turned around. “Epcar. What do you make of this?”
The man beside her leaned over. “That’s interesting.”
“We saw that same ship at our last refueling stop, didn’t we?”
Epcar frowned. “Yeah. I wonder what they’re up to.”
“It could be a coincidence,” Khalin conceded, “but I can’t see why anyone else would be heading out this way.”
“There’s still one more system between us and the Harskan sector though. It’s not much of a place and it’s pretty far out of the way but maybe they’re heading there.”
“Dailas?” Khalin scoffed. “Possibly. But almost no one does any trading with the place and the locals never travel off-world. They’re so isolated that if they seceded from the Federation, no one would even notice.”
“Probably not,” Epcar agreed. “Although you never know with Corinthe running the show. He might well send a fleet of cruisers to pummel their whole planet.”
“True,” Khalin replied. “Anyway, getting back to this mystery ship of ours, I think we should let Admiral Roth know...” She trailed off as something else took her attention. “Well well.”
“What is it?”
“It seems we’ve picked up another traveling companion. Another small ship just popped onto the radar and I’d say whoever’s flying it is trying hard not to be noticed.”
“Do you think they’re following us?”
“Us,” Khalin said, “or our friends in the first ship.”
“The mind boggles,” Epcar muttered. “Well, I suppose I’d better contact the admiral.”
––––––––
Rain pelted against the sloping roofs of Dailas’ one and only spaceport, gushing over the edges onto the streets below. It was night and coupled with the rain, it made for poor visibility but it wasn’t a difficult landing for Asten. The wind wasn’t too strong and the landing platforms were a lot more generous than some others he’d seen. Raised above the buildings on various pylons, they were wide enough to accommodate a good sized cargo hauler. Rather considerate for a place that didn’t receive that many visitors.
“And we’re down,” he said cheerfully as he locked the landing gear into place. He switched off the main engines and climbed out of his seat. “All right. I’ll get the fuel. Drackson, see if the local shops have anything worth stocking in the galley. Carla, stay here and keep an eye on the ship.”
“Sure,” Carla replied. “It looks like miserable weather for being outdoors anyway.”
“Quite,” Asten agreed as he and Drackson left.
Carla climbed out of her seat and sat in Asten’s usual place at the helm. Watching the viewscreen, she smiled as Asten and Drackson made their way across the platform and stepped into the elevator that led to the buildings below. She hadn’t known them for long but she’d grown fond of them. Ever since the three of them had left the Feet First and that stuffy, overbearing Big Blue, they’d been a close-knit group.
It had been good timing too—going into business for themselves—as small operators began to do very well due to drastic changes in shipping regulations around the time. Corinthe had made it practically mandatory for cargo haulers to use escort ships from the Shipping Guild, which Drackson had said would happen sooner or later, and a lot of the larger independent operators like Big Blue had been effectively shut down as a result. Although, Carla had heard the old captain was doing well in the outlying systems and along the Frontier.
However, given the exorbitant amounts the Shipping Guild charged for its services, a lot of smaller businesses appreciated equally smaller ships like the Lady Hawk that could escort their freighters under the radar for much lower fees.
As Carla mused over all of this, she grabbed a pad and pulled up some information on the Harskan sector. Thanks to Drackson, there was a fair bit of it in the Lady Hawk’s data banks.
After ten minutes of reading, Asten reappeared with a man in the uniform of a Dailas spaceport employee. This uniform was one of their protective wet weather versions, better suited to the evening’s conditions than Asten’s soaked clothes.
Asten pointed out the fuel valve on the Lady Hawk and led the way, with the man walking behind him.
Carla sat up as she got a better look at the man; he was now a few steps behind Asten, who was explaining something about the valve set up, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He just stared at the back of Asten’s head and tightened his grip on a large wrench.
Carla bolted out of the cockpit, racing downstairs to the hatchway. If Asten wasn’t already grateful to have her services, he was sure going to be now. She hit the release for the hatchway and it shot open with a loud hiss. Outside, the man was raising the wrench above Asten’s head.
“Asten, look out!”
The man brought the wrench down but Asten was too fast for him. Rather than turning around to get a front row view of the wrench right before it cracked his skull, he jumped to the left. Unable to stop the momentum of his swing, his assailant stumbled forward and Asten socked him in the jaw. The man swung the wrench around again and Asten kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
Asten then reached for the gun that was holstered on his right hip but thought the better of it. His assailant could have taken him out with a gun too but had decided against it. Perhaps the authorities on Dailas were a little faster than most when it came to slamming down on firefights.
The man climbed to his feet again and Asten took a few steps back. He wasn’t sure what to do now but he kept his hand on his weapon just in case. If the worst came to the worst, he could always explain it to the spaceport officials. However, as his assailant came at him again, Drackson stepped onto the platform with a few boxes of supplies.
He dropped them immediately and charged Asten’s assailant, locking both his arms in one motion, dislocating his shoulder and making him drop the weapon. Then he grabbed the man’s head, snapped his neck and dropped the limp body.
“Thanks,” Asten said, his relief evident in his voice. He turned to Drackson, who was standing motionless. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Drackson nodded. “That was just a messy business, that’s all.”
Carla came over and stared at the body. “Oh my... ”
“It’s okay,” Asten told her. It wasn’t of course but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Drackson tapped the dead man with his foot, rolling him onto his back to get a look at the face. “I wonder who he was. I’ll get a picture and run it through the computer.”
Asten grimaced. “Good idea. Now, we’ve just got to work out how we’re going to get our fuel without raising any suspicions.”
“What do you mean?” Carla asked him.
“I mean, I was just down there and they sent me back with this guy. Am I supposed to go back and ask for someone else?”
Carla shrugged. “Just tell them that you don’t know where the guy’s got to. Say you got separated and ask them if they’ve seen him. They’ll try to contact him and when they can’t get in touch, they should just send you up with another man.”
“Worth a shot, I guess,” Asten muttered. “But if they don’t buy it, we might have to get out of here in a hurry. Drackson, do you think you can hide this guy somewhere while I’m gone?”
Drackson shook his head. “This place is too open. I’ll put him in a cargo hold and we can jettison him in space.” He turned around and sniffed the air.
“What’s wrong?” Asten asked.
“I’m not sure,” Drackson said. “I thought I saw someone by the elevator but I can’t see anyone now. Maybe I was imagining things.”
“Maybe. All right, I’ll go and see those guys downstairs again. Think you can manage this guy without me?
Drackson glanced at the dead man on the landing platform. He was a large man but he wouldn’t be too heavy for him. Harskans were considerably stronger than humans.
“No, I think I can manage.”
“Good,” Asten replied. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”