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Authors: Maxine McArthur
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possession.”
“Thanks.”
“And then the orders for my transfer came through.”
“You?” Hell, I messed up Bill’s life too. The three engineers were a different matter—they’d all accepted the risks and wanted to be part of the project. But Murdoch didn’t even know what we were doing.
“Yeah. I didn’t know what was going on for a while. Back to Earth, the orders said. By the time I contacted someone who knew something—an old mate of mine in Finance—it was time for me to go. I took leave and stayed on the station and tried to get the transfer annulled, or changed, or something. No luck. So I started looking for An Serat. That was bloody difficult, too. I tracked him to a H’digh colony.”
“You went yourself?” Travel quotas for private individuals of the Nine Worlds within the jump network were small and prohibitively expensive. I didn’t want to hear that Murdoch had mortgaged his pension to try to find me. Or worse, put himself in the kind of danger that stowaways on Four ships faced.
“I pulled in a favor with Neeth—you remember, the K’Cher trader who tried to sell our planet?”
I did remember the incident, which had embroiled External Affairs, the Confederacy Bureau of Trade Investigation, the K’Cher League of Barons, and a network of small traders and pirates that covered the whole of Abelar system. Murdoch’s Security team had prevented Neeth from being lynched.
“It gave you a berth to Rhuarl system?”
“Uh-huh. Serat seemed pretty much at home with the H’digh on Rhuarl.”
“So what did he say?”
Murdoch narrowed his eyes as he remembered. “He didn’t say much. Basically, that he’d been waiting for me. He told me he’d send me back to Jocasta and then to meet you. I waited around for a couple hours, then a H’digh gave me a pass back to Central in an unmarked transport.”
“Who was the pilot?”
He shrugged. “I was in the passenger cabin, didn’t see. But the fittings were humanoid-friendly, so probably a Melot. A Melot met me at Central, anyway, and put me on another transport. This one went from Central to Abelar. I tell you, by this time I was buggered from standing around waiting for Customs inspections and for the ships to leave. You know how they take hours from when the exit permit’s approved to when the jump point actually opens. Not to mention the time getting to the points in flatspace. And then we rendezvous in Abelar flatspace with another ship, half a dozen Melot crew, no markings. I couldn’t see the navigation details, but I reckon it was near where you disappeared.”
That made sense. He’d have to finally go through the same jump point as I did; if he jumped from Central he couldn’t have come to the past because those jumps on the Central network are all set at “present” time. Twelve o’clock in Central is twelve o’clock everywhere else.
“An Serat seems to have a lot of backup,” I said.
“Yeah, but none of it official, you notice? No ConFleet or Confederacy Trader markings on anything. I reckon he’s doing this without Barik and the other Invidi knowing. Anyway, they loaded me into a single-pilot fighter like a bloody droid. Not a word, not so much as a mind-your-step-don’t-forget-the-emergency-exit. And the fighter went through the jump point on autopilot. Not a thing I could do about it.
“The fighter kept going once we left the jump point. I knew it was heading for Earth but I don’t think anyone detected me coming in.”
“Nor me,” I said. “The only reason I can think of is that both your fighter and
Calypso II
contained an Invidi shielding device to avoid detection.” My search of
Calypso II
failed to find one, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
He nodded. “My ship was programmed already—it did nearly forty-eight hours’ burn through the solar system after coming through the jump...”
“That’s a day faster than I was.”
“... hit Earth’s atmosphere and fried, and not a bloody
“Thanks.”
“And then the orders for my transfer came through.”
“You?” Hell, I messed up Bill’s life too. The three engineers were a different matter—they’d all accepted the risks and wanted to be part of the project. But Murdoch didn’t even know what we were doing.
“Yeah. I didn’t know what was going on for a while. Back to Earth, the orders said. By the time I contacted someone who knew something—an old mate of mine in Finance—it was time for me to go. I took leave and stayed on the station and tried to get the transfer annulled, or changed, or something. No luck. So I started looking for An Serat. That was bloody difficult, too. I tracked him to a H’digh colony.”
“You went yourself?” Travel quotas for private individuals of the Nine Worlds within the jump network were small and prohibitively expensive. I didn’t want to hear that Murdoch had mortgaged his pension to try to find me. Or worse, put himself in the kind of danger that stowaways on Four ships faced.
“I pulled in a favor with Neeth—you remember, the K’Cher trader who tried to sell our planet?”
I did remember the incident, which had embroiled External Affairs, the Confederacy Bureau of Trade Investigation, the K’Cher League of Barons, and a network of small traders and pirates that covered the whole of Abelar system. Murdoch’s Security team had prevented Neeth from being lynched.
“It gave you a berth to Rhuarl system?”
“Uh-huh. Serat seemed pretty much at home with the H’digh on Rhuarl.”
“So what did he say?”
Murdoch narrowed his eyes as he remembered. “He didn’t say much. Basically, that he’d been waiting for me. He told me he’d send me back to Jocasta and then to meet you. I waited around for a couple hours, then a H’digh gave me a pass back to Central in an unmarked transport.”
“Who was the pilot?”
He shrugged. “I was in the passenger cabin, didn’t see. But the fittings were humanoid-friendly, so probably a Melot. A Melot met me at Central, anyway, and put me on another transport. This one went from Central to Abelar. I tell you, by this time I was buggered from standing around waiting for Customs inspections and for the ships to leave. You know how they take hours from when the exit permit’s approved to when the jump point actually opens. Not to mention the time getting to the points in flatspace. And then we rendezvous in Abelar flatspace with another ship, half a dozen Melot crew, no markings. I couldn’t see the navigation details, but I reckon it was near where you disappeared.”
That made sense. He’d have to finally go through the same jump point as I did; if he jumped from Central he couldn’t have come to the past because those jumps on the Central network are all set at “present” time. Twelve o’clock in Central is twelve o’clock everywhere else.
“An Serat seems to have a lot of backup,” I said.
“Yeah, but none of it official, you notice? No ConFleet or Confederacy Trader markings on anything. I reckon he’s doing this without Barik and the other Invidi knowing. Anyway, they loaded me into a single-pilot fighter like a bloody droid. Not a word, not so much as a mind-your-step-don’t-forget-the-emergency-exit. And the fighter went through the jump point on autopilot. Not a thing I could do about it.
“The fighter kept going once we left the jump point. I knew it was heading for Earth but I don’t think anyone detected me coming in.”
“Nor me,” I said. “The only reason I can think of is that both your fighter and
Calypso II
contained an Invidi shielding device to avoid detection.” My search of
Calypso II
failed to find one, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
He nodded. “My ship was programmed already—it did nearly forty-eight hours’ burn through the solar system after coming through the jump...”
“That’s a day faster than I was.”
“... hit Earth’s atmosphere and fried, and not a bloody
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