Read Online Wolf Among the Stars-ARC by Steve White - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve White
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relative velocity. But that would have meant paying a toll. And besides, it’s a matter of prestige. Constructing a transition gate was the greatest project the human race had undertaken since the formation of the CNE—it took a public-private partnership involving Spinward and the other infant space lines, as well as the CNE government. And now we use it whenever possible, instead of the Harathon and Tizathon ones, out of pride as well as toll-avoidance.”
Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses—chablis for her, bourbon and branch water for him—as though to formalize the breaking of the ice. Andrew reminded himself that he must never lose sight of the multilayered game he was playing.
“Listen,” Rachel said impulsively after the first sip, “I really do appreciate what you tried to do for me back in Washington. And I know you don’t want me along on this trip. But I promise I’ll—”
“No, no. You were perfectly right, and I was probably being too stuffy. I’m still curious, though, as to what made you so certain that the official reports of your father’s death were less than candid. You mentioned something about him ‘not seeming himself.’”
“That began before I happened to find out about his being in communication with this Tizathon researcher . . . You mentioned that you knew of him, too. Persath’Loven, was that his name?”
“That’s right,” said Andrew, who had expected to have to worm the name out of her. Was I ever so candid and artless? he wondered. Probably not .
“Well, he seemed terribly upset to know I had found out—as though the knowledge might put me in some kind of danger. It was afterwards that he stopped communicating. That hurt.” Rachel’s expression reflected that remembered pain. “I wasn’t completely honest when I said he and I stayed in touch pretty regularly. That was only so after I’d moved away from Mother—their divorce had been pretty bitter, you see—and gotten established in San Francisco—I’m a graphic designer. So it was like I was losing something I’d only just gained.”
Dinner was served. The conversation frayed out into inconsequentialities—which was fine with Andrew, who didn’t want to risk pushing too hard. But over coffee he managed to steer the subject to their encounter with Valdes, then spoke with what he hoped wasn’t overdone casualness. “You know, when I asked him if his views weren’t a lot like that of the old Earth First Party, I almost wanted to ask if they weren’t also like those of the Black Wolf Society.”
“Huh? Aren’t they a crime syndicate?”
“On one level. But they also push an ideology that is expansionist and human-supremacist and, if not anti-Lokaron in general, certainly anti-Rogovon. In fact, their name comes from the constellation Lupus—the Wolf. There, and in Sagittarius, is where our interests have come into conflict with Gev-Rogov’s. The Black Wolf’s goal is to drive the Rogovon out of that constellation entirely.”
“I never knew that about their name.”
“Not many people do.” Andrew made his voice even more casual. “Did your father ever mention them?”
She gave him a sharp glance and spoke with a certain abruptness. “No. Why should he have?”
“Oh, no reason.” Andrew changed the subject as quickly as he could without seeming obvious about it.
A little less than three Earth-days later they sat in the lounge to watch the transition, pressed down into their recliners by the sudden, stomach-lurching surge as the ship was pulled into the nonmaterial hole in space-time. This time the dome above them showed the view-forward, and the stars ahead seemed to flow sternward and merge into a tunnel of light that streamed through the spectrum before vanishing into a well of blackness—the utter, disturbing blackness of overspace, into which the tiny blue dot of Earth had preceded it—in a secondary screen that showed the view-aft. It was a sensory experience that not
Their drinks arrived and they clinked glasses—chablis for her, bourbon and branch water for him—as though to formalize the breaking of the ice. Andrew reminded himself that he must never lose sight of the multilayered game he was playing.
“Listen,” Rachel said impulsively after the first sip, “I really do appreciate what you tried to do for me back in Washington. And I know you don’t want me along on this trip. But I promise I’ll—”
“No, no. You were perfectly right, and I was probably being too stuffy. I’m still curious, though, as to what made you so certain that the official reports of your father’s death were less than candid. You mentioned something about him ‘not seeming himself.’”
“That began before I happened to find out about his being in communication with this Tizathon researcher . . . You mentioned that you knew of him, too. Persath’Loven, was that his name?”
“That’s right,” said Andrew, who had expected to have to worm the name out of her. Was I ever so candid and artless? he wondered. Probably not .
“Well, he seemed terribly upset to know I had found out—as though the knowledge might put me in some kind of danger. It was afterwards that he stopped communicating. That hurt.” Rachel’s expression reflected that remembered pain. “I wasn’t completely honest when I said he and I stayed in touch pretty regularly. That was only so after I’d moved away from Mother—their divorce had been pretty bitter, you see—and gotten established in San Francisco—I’m a graphic designer. So it was like I was losing something I’d only just gained.”
Dinner was served. The conversation frayed out into inconsequentialities—which was fine with Andrew, who didn’t want to risk pushing too hard. But over coffee he managed to steer the subject to their encounter with Valdes, then spoke with what he hoped wasn’t overdone casualness. “You know, when I asked him if his views weren’t a lot like that of the old Earth First Party, I almost wanted to ask if they weren’t also like those of the Black Wolf Society.”
“Huh? Aren’t they a crime syndicate?”
“On one level. But they also push an ideology that is expansionist and human-supremacist and, if not anti-Lokaron in general, certainly anti-Rogovon. In fact, their name comes from the constellation Lupus—the Wolf. There, and in Sagittarius, is where our interests have come into conflict with Gev-Rogov’s. The Black Wolf’s goal is to drive the Rogovon out of that constellation entirely.”
“I never knew that about their name.”
“Not many people do.” Andrew made his voice even more casual. “Did your father ever mention them?”
She gave him a sharp glance and spoke with a certain abruptness. “No. Why should he have?”
“Oh, no reason.” Andrew changed the subject as quickly as he could without seeming obvious about it.
A little less than three Earth-days later they sat in the lounge to watch the transition, pressed down into their recliners by the sudden, stomach-lurching surge as the ship was pulled into the nonmaterial hole in space-time. This time the dome above them showed the view-forward, and the stars ahead seemed to flow sternward and merge into a tunnel of light that streamed through the spectrum before vanishing into a well of blackness—the utter, disturbing blackness of overspace, into which the tiny blue dot of Earth had preceded it—in a secondary screen that showed the view-aft. It was a sensory experience that not
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