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Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
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touched different sections of tissue with the probe wires, moving urgently, until he found a blurred image of Deathguard Rader and his Jaxxan companion. He zeroed in, turned up the volume on the receiver, and heard their words, relived their last conversation, studied everything they had said.
The Jaxxan captain got the information he needed before the chemical traces crumbled into disjointed fragments and incomplete sentences. It was enough. He looked up at his comrades. “Now we know where they are going.”
— 13 —
“They got past all ten? ” Sobel was still rubbing sleep from his eyes in front of the image of Kiltik.
The insistent call from the viewscreen had dragged him out of bed. He hadn’t expected to be disturbed, but Sobel had given the Jaxxan Warlord his direct contact code. At first, the Commissioner thought he would be happy to receive the call regardless of the hour, expecting good news—but Kiltik had not told him what he wanted to hear.
“Yes, all ten, Commissioner. The Deathguard killed four of them and escaped with the Jaxxan soldier in a stolen ship. A very reckless flight, evasive action. They vanished into the asteroid field.”
“Good riddance,” Sobel muttered, but knew the problem didn’t end there. Even if the two were never seen again—and the cyborg systems had to start breaking down soon—Sobel’s failure to resolve the situation properly would be a permanent blot on his record. He couldn’t just let the Deathguard die on his own. “This is a disaster, Warlord. We’ll never be able to track them—unless you can guess their destination from the patterns in that holystal thing of yours?”
The Jaxxan’s face was unreadable. “We have a clearer answer than that. Your Deathguard and my deserter tried to take one of the landing-field sentries hostage, but our hunter squad shot him inadvertently—a happy accident. Fortunately, one of my soldiers set up a mind probe quickly enough. We know the location of the asteroid where the two intend to go.”
“Really?” Sobel didn’t quite allow himself a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s better than a complete debacle, but we have to act without delay. Let me send you two of my best fighterships—ours are faster than yours.”
“Accepted.” An expression of what might have been humor crossed Kiltik’s face, but then the alien broke into a spasm of dry coughing.
Sobel rolled his tongue around in his dry mouth. He had been asleep for only a few hours, and already his mouth tasted foul. “I’ll get those fighterships sent over right away—and please don’t shoot at them! Then I’m going back to bed.” He yawned, but felt no better for it. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“No.”
“Oh … Well, I’ll speak to you when I have something to report, Warlord.”
“Call me Kiltik.” The Warlord touched the screen, and the images of his fingertips were blurred. “Now that I have met you in person, I find this communication very unsatisfactory. I feel no emotions, which makes understanding more difficult. From now on, I would rather dispense with this apparatus and meet you face-to-face.”
“That can be arranged—but let’s hope we can wrap up this problem quickly.” He blanked the screen, then established another connection. He spoke to a corporal in the fightership hangars, repeated his baffling instructions several times, then worked his way up the chain of command.
Sobel knew his bed would be very cold by the time he finally climbed back into it.
— 14 —
They flew away from Fixion, diving at breakneck speed and without a course into the scramble of drifting asteroids. Click quickly became adept at maneuvering the cargo shuttle.
“The military will be tracking us. We have to get far enough away,” he announced over the intercom.
Rader still lay on the lower deck, trying to get his uncooperative leg to function. He was sure the survivors of the hunter squad would be commandeering their own pursuit ships.
The Jaxxan captain got the information he needed before the chemical traces crumbled into disjointed fragments and incomplete sentences. It was enough. He looked up at his comrades. “Now we know where they are going.”
— 13 —
“They got past all ten? ” Sobel was still rubbing sleep from his eyes in front of the image of Kiltik.
The insistent call from the viewscreen had dragged him out of bed. He hadn’t expected to be disturbed, but Sobel had given the Jaxxan Warlord his direct contact code. At first, the Commissioner thought he would be happy to receive the call regardless of the hour, expecting good news—but Kiltik had not told him what he wanted to hear.
“Yes, all ten, Commissioner. The Deathguard killed four of them and escaped with the Jaxxan soldier in a stolen ship. A very reckless flight, evasive action. They vanished into the asteroid field.”
“Good riddance,” Sobel muttered, but knew the problem didn’t end there. Even if the two were never seen again—and the cyborg systems had to start breaking down soon—Sobel’s failure to resolve the situation properly would be a permanent blot on his record. He couldn’t just let the Deathguard die on his own. “This is a disaster, Warlord. We’ll never be able to track them—unless you can guess their destination from the patterns in that holystal thing of yours?”
The Jaxxan’s face was unreadable. “We have a clearer answer than that. Your Deathguard and my deserter tried to take one of the landing-field sentries hostage, but our hunter squad shot him inadvertently—a happy accident. Fortunately, one of my soldiers set up a mind probe quickly enough. We know the location of the asteroid where the two intend to go.”
“Really?” Sobel didn’t quite allow himself a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s better than a complete debacle, but we have to act without delay. Let me send you two of my best fighterships—ours are faster than yours.”
“Accepted.” An expression of what might have been humor crossed Kiltik’s face, but then the alien broke into a spasm of dry coughing.
Sobel rolled his tongue around in his dry mouth. He had been asleep for only a few hours, and already his mouth tasted foul. “I’ll get those fighterships sent over right away—and please don’t shoot at them! Then I’m going back to bed.” He yawned, but felt no better for it. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“No.”
“Oh … Well, I’ll speak to you when I have something to report, Warlord.”
“Call me Kiltik.” The Warlord touched the screen, and the images of his fingertips were blurred. “Now that I have met you in person, I find this communication very unsatisfactory. I feel no emotions, which makes understanding more difficult. From now on, I would rather dispense with this apparatus and meet you face-to-face.”
“That can be arranged—but let’s hope we can wrap up this problem quickly.” He blanked the screen, then established another connection. He spoke to a corporal in the fightership hangars, repeated his baffling instructions several times, then worked his way up the chain of command.
Sobel knew his bed would be very cold by the time he finally climbed back into it.
— 14 —
They flew away from Fixion, diving at breakneck speed and without a course into the scramble of drifting asteroids. Click quickly became adept at maneuvering the cargo shuttle.
“The military will be tracking us. We have to get far enough away,” he announced over the intercom.
Rader still lay on the lower deck, trying to get his uncooperative leg to function. He was sure the survivors of the hunter squad would be commandeering their own pursuit ships.
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