Starhammer (23 page)

"By the souls of dead Seygfan!" someone whispered.

"Fire! It must not complete the turn! Fire, you fools!" Booeej called.

Hands snapped to the laser controls but already the heavy spheroid was gone, twitched out of William's upper atmosphere on the force of the planet's own gravity potential.

The purple drained from the admiral's face. In a strangled voice he snarled. "Get me a fix on that departure's singularity! Where the hell did they go?"

It was apparent that the ship had traveled outward from William. Because of the gravity problem, it couldn't have reversed through the planetary mass. In fact, a quadrant of most probable destination was soon discernible, a sector covering only ten degrees on a side.

"How many systems within thirty light-years in that sector?" Booeej barked after a swift perusal of the secret Superior Buro data running on his own monitor.

"One hundred seventy-four" was the reply.

In moments, lumpy battlejumpers had scrambled to jump points and hurtled out of the Nocanicus system.

Ulip Sehngrohn stared out the slit window high in the cliff of Bolgol. The raging blue-white fury was dimming, its tiny disk, which could only be observed through thick lead glass, cut the horizon, and a wild, purple dusk fell over the landscape.

Tiny lights began to flicker on in the slit windows on the opposing cliffs of Razevkoy and Fernica. Above the cliffs, where the canyons met, the sky had become a lambent tapestry. Startling mauve clarity was threaded with golden shreds of cloud.

The city of Quism was coming to life. Engines coughed into life in the garages by the Meridian Gate. Dozens of treasure expeditions were setting out on the trail to the south, heading for the dangers and potential wealth of the Oolite trail and the North Shore and the Boneyards.

All through the long polar night, expeditions would continue to leave the city for the south. Caravans of armored hovercraft carrying eager-eyed prospectors and scientific groups.

During the strange glories of dusk, the wealthy expedition patrons would traditionally throw banquets in those high cliff rooms that were left empty in the daylight. The Sunset Clubs would sip imported wine instead of the native bean distillate and watch the hovercraft wending southward. They would speculate happily on the likelihood of success, although all knew that one out of four expeditions would not return. Then the spectacular auroral displays would begin, the signal of the long polar night's true beginnings.

Sehngrohn, however, had already been there for hours, and he watched more than just the sunset and the dust clouds above the departing convoys. For beyond the gap between Razevkoy and Fernica was the spacefield. Private shuttle companies ferried passengers and cargo up and down from orbital space once or twice every day. Their multicolor elevation balloons lined the field, like a set of enormous spansules in a giant's drug cabinet.

A sound behind him heralded the coming of his assistant. "We take delivery of the hovercraft in five hours, Ulip. Everything will be ready within an hour or so after that."

"Good, Nike. We will want to move quickly, the laowon are restless. Two military shuttles have landed in the last hour. I can feel their unease. Something has slipped badly. The Imperiom shakes."

A dwarf star gave off a dim red glow on the main screen. "Where are we now?" Jon Iehard said.

"A hiding place," Eblis Bey replied. "This dwarf isn't on anybody's charts. It's about eight light-years to the next system. Nobody's made it out here yet. We left one of the
Orn's
spaceboats here, because we knew the
Churchill
wouldn't have any left."

Even as he spoke, the radar screen showed a small trace; the boat computer had recorded the arrival of the
Churchill
and was on its way to intercept.

"How far have we come?"

"Nocanicus is about twenty-five light-years back of us. We've the big jumps yet to make."

Owlcurl Dahn put her head in the door. "Come on, Iehard, we've been drawn for torsion magneto inspection. There's a lot to be done."

The huge battleship stretched silent and eerie around them as they rode the lateral elevator line. Most of the side sections were empty—rows of dormitories, storerooms, endless dark corridors.

"I wonder what they planned to do with all this?" Jon said.

"They intended to send colonizing parties out in their ships. That's why they built on the same sort of scale as the old NAFAL liners."

Eventually they were deposited in one of the ring conduits that surrounded the torsion magneto cables. They began to move along the cables, their lights seeking breaks or cracks caused by the strain of that wild escape from almost inside the atomic blast of the
Orn
, with only the gravitomagnetic fields protecting the ship from severe damage.

It was hot work in the narrow cable conduits. There were miles of connections to check. And there was just enough room for two humans to stand up in, in long stretches.

At every kilometer was a major junction box to be checked, each set directly facing a radial elevator shaft that connected to the central section. The box plate was held by a countersunk starbolt. Jon used a star wrench to remove the bolts. Owlcurl Dahn examined the interiors for damage.

As they worked they talked about Ornholme in the distant Asdali system and about the ancient debt to Elchis.

"Nine hundred years, Mr. Iehard! Not all the Orners today remember the importance of the Elchites to our ancestors. That is why some of the crew seem so unwilling. They do not realize that without the Elchites our forebears would have been taken by the Superior Buro. And this ship and their heroic efforts to preserve it would have been lost, and the laowon would have the Baada drives. Which they have never discovered on their own."

Jon snorted. "Laowon science is static. Their empire is a corrupt monster teetering on disintegration. Only the constant draining of human science has kept them moving forward these thousand years."

"Exactly, Mr. Iehard. Which is another reason why our mission is so vital."

"But do you know what exactly it is that we search for?"

"Mr. Iehard, I may not tell you about that. Only the Bey can tell you. Nobody else in the crew knows the secret, not even the young Elchites."

He shrugged. Such secrecy was understandable in light of the effectiveness of the Superior Buro.

"Another point. I think I need to know who are Elchites and who not. The young ones are fiery fellows, aren't they?"

"Incendiary, Mr. Iehard. And Finn M'Nee will surely bear malice toward you. I have found him most difficult to work with."

"Why is that do you think?"

"The Elchites hate women—M'Nee and Chacks are lovers. They are mostly samesexers. Their cult is antifemale."

"The Bey?"

"No!" She laughed. "Not Eblis Bey, but he is special, and from Earth. Can you imagine, he comes from the homeworld. Even on Ornholme we think of Earth as far, far away. Which is true—it is seventy light-years from the Asdali system to Sol. But now that seems almost neighborly! We are making jumps of that distance itself!"

"Are the Elchites of Earth different then from the rest of the creed?"

"If the Bey is a true example then it must be so. He certainly has an appetite for women. Since he's been aboard I believe he's been to bed with all three females in the crew—myself, Dahlia Bergen, and Rewa Kolod."

Jon laughed, the sound ringing inside the conduits.

They worked on, eventually reaching the conduits that ran through the south pole of the ship. Occasionally lamps shone down the long shafts above their heads to form pools of light on the junction boxes.

Another box, this time in darkness, another plate, another countersunk starbolt. They were nearly three quarters of the way around. Dahn kept her lights trained on the bolt while Jon braced himself to get good leverage. The muscles in his chest groaned in complaint. This one was stiff.

He shifted position, got a good grip, strained.

Then he caught a fleeting image, a ghostly shriek of hatred from somewhere above him and a torsion wrench spinning in darkness.

Jon cannoned into Owlcurl Dahn. They sprawled and with a terrific
whunk
a heavy wrench bounced on the steel junction box and shot into the wall with enormous force.

The reverberations echoed in the narrow conduit.

Jon let out a bitter curse.

Owlcurl Dahn was pale. "That could have killed you! That was criminally careless."

"No, Owlcurl, not careless at all."

Admiral Booeej was a pale shade of puce as he listened to the young Morgooze of Blue Seygfan.

"For such incompetence I personally shall tear apart your sex organs with the electrified tongs. Your expiation will be accompanied by that of your senior officers, family, and relatives."

"Lord, I was given an impossible task."

"Impossible! You shall have the hot coals, the frozen skewers, your children will be mutilitated before your eyes..."

From his hospital bed the Morgooze continued to rage. Booeej swallowed heavily, tried to compose his thoughts to acceptance of fate. It was hard, damnably hard.

When the ship had been completely checked and a number of small repairs made, they gathered in the cavernous refectory for a final meeting before the last jump.

The Elchites studiously ignored Jon, but he was sure from the rage on the psi plane that they were the ones that had tried to kill him.

At Jon's request Dahn had said nothing about the incident, but Jon was aware that he would have to be especially careful from then on. They had meant to kill. If they tried again he would have to strike back.

Eblis Bey stood. "My friends, saviors, acolytes, we have come to the last, most momentous part of our journey. And soon you will learn just where it is we have been heading all this time." Groans were heard from some of the Orners.

"When we get to the new system we will disembark and the
Churchill
will be put out on a long solar orbit to keep it hidden. We shall not need it again unless we are successful with our main mission."

"Then I take it, Bey, that you at least know where we are going." Hawkstone sounded bitter.

"Captain, we all regret the loss of the
Orn
. But I urge you, think instead of the future in Asdali system, building ships with Baada drives."

This drove Hawkstone to snort angrily. "We have one more jump to make, a long one. Who knows anything about these drives? We may just as easily become merged with the subuniversal flux. Once more, we have to risk our lives for this crazed scheme of yours."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Captain. But we have no choice. And my scheme, crazed or not, was approved by the highest councils of Elchis."

"Of course we have a choice," Hawkstone blustered. "We could take the lifeboat and strike out for the nearest civilized system."

"That's eight light-years away, Captain. The trip would take many years."

"We would live."

"Just possibly your chances would be higher than ours, but who here would really like to spend twenty years in the spaceboat?"

No hands rose. Hawkstone lapsed into sullen silence.

"We are settled then. We will jump and then land together. Then we will part at last and only volunteers will go on, with me, to the end."

"If I were asked," Bergen muttered, "which I am not, you understand, but if I were, I would say forget this nonsense of the Elchites and take this ship home to Ornholme as soon as possible. I would never venture away again."

Dahn let a momentary flicker of annoyance cross her features. "We had to come to pay off the debt. It was just your misfortune to be on crew schedule when the time came. Ornholme has lived with knowledge of the debt for nine hundred years. When the call came we had to respond. I have found this project an exceptionally difficult and dangerous one, but we are acting for the good of all Ornholme."

Officer Bergen made no further comment.

The meeting broke up. Jon headed to the galley counter. The food preparation systems had survived the long hiatus, as had the freeze-dried rations of fried bananas, eggpowder scramble, and mashed-potato slurry. It was awful, but it was food. Owlcurl Dahn joined him.

"What will you do when we reach planetside, Jon?"

"I'm not quite sure what I'll do. I must find some medical assistance for Meg. She will need a long rest wherever we go. As for myself, I will go with Bey if I can."

"Then we will travel on together. I am pledged to go all the way too."

He had almost finished the mess on his plate when Eblis Bey appeared and sat down with them. The mote floated down to rest on the table between them. Its brilliant eyes dimmed then seemed to go out.

Eblis Bey noticed Jon's wondering gaze. "Yes, it's resting, conserving energy. You are curious about my little friend here."

"Indeed I am. How many have ever seen one of the great motes? It is a remarkable creature. Already it has provided me with a service by describing my silvery cube from Fara's template."

"If it is a creature. It maintains that it is not, but it cannot explain its own processes very well. In truth, we hardly understand anything about the things."

The Bey produced his flask and poured Jon a sip of a fiery terrestrial distillate called Cobra.

"Tell me about Earth," Jon said.

Eblis Bey paused a moment, gathered himself. "You have to understand that Earth can live again. We will bring the planet back to life, you see. That is our ultimate goal."

"I don't understand. Earth is dead?"

"Largely, as a consequence of the greenhouse effect. The biosphere has been degraded to the point of collapse." His voice hardened. "But we shall bring her back. Earth will be green and lovely once again. We can save her with mass migration and enforcement of the sterility code."

And Jon saw the Elchite fires burning in the man's eyes.

An idea occurred to him. "Where were you born?"

Eblis Bey blinked. "Born? Why do you want to know?"