Event Horizon (Hellgate) (117 page)

“Where nobody but us dares to tread,” Travers finished, and allowed a chuckle. “Lai’a could probably locate several other lodes.”

And Vaurien nodded. “This is one of its priority assignments, and it knows the likeliest places to look. It can survey for Zunshunium lodes and at the same time aid the Veldn in the search for the two Zunshu ships that remain unaccounted for. In fact, Lai’a should be back in transspace in a few weeks, after the initial chain of comm buoys is laid down – and it’s eager to return. The surveying assignment is very much to its taste.”

“Its taste?” Vidal echoed. “It has a choice about what assignment it’ll take? Which prompts me to ask a question nobody’s asked yet.” He lifted a brow at Vaurien. “Who
owns
Lai’a? You know the Commonwealth’s new bean counters are going to want to know who paid for it, what it’s worth … where it is, who it’s working for, what it’s doing, and why, and who’ll bank the profits earned by its activities.”

“All good questions,” Vaurien agreed. “Watch yourself, Mick – I could hear your father’s business sense in every word there. Start thinking that way, and they’d be delighted to turn you into a corporate executive!” Vidal was shuddering animatedly as Richard went on, “Who paid for Lai’a? The hulls of the
Intrepid
and the
Apollo
were legitimate salvage. The
Wastrel
did the work; Harrison funded part of it from Fleet appropriation funds, but the truth is, Mark and I picked up a large balance. If these bean counters harass us, we’ll serve the bill. A consortium of human and Resalq interests discovered the transspace fuel element, mined and refined it; and it’s the same story on the funding. The Commonwealth can have the bill for funds outstanding there, too.

“The habitation module is sheathed in Zunshulite, to which we own the patents on material and process … and here’s where it’ll start to get expensive. The bill would hurt, and we haven’t even reached transspace engine design, manufacture and test, much less AI development, which was done on Mark’s dime, or ordnance, some of which was salvaged from Fleet wreckage – but much was manufactured using patented processes. Not to mention lives lost, injuries suffered.

“But – who
owns
Lai’a?” Richard’s face was a study in amused exasperation. “Try giving it an order it doesn’t fancy. Try sending it on an assignment it considers inappropriate. It
wants
to survey Drifts around the galaxy; it
wants
to join the Veldn in the search for those two Zunshu ships, and some hypothetical colony founded by them.”

Vidal was watching Grant fiddle with his nano. “A professional bean counter back there in the Commonwealth is going to look at it and see a warship. They’ll almost certainly want to assign it a patrol, closer to the Deep Sky, tell it to cruise back and forth, guarding our borders.”

“Good luck with that.” Vaurien actually laughed. “The fact is, I don’t think anyone
owns
Lai’a. It was delighted to work in concert with us, and it looks forward to collaborating again. It did as we asked, which is very different from following orders or loading up a program. Its universe is
extremely
different from ours. Transspace. Speaking of which, Mark and I have been discussing outfitting other driftships. By now we understand the technology well. Take an asteroid miner hull – think of the
Cerberus
, in fact – add Zunshulite armor and a derivative of Lai’a, not so unspeakably brilliant, and much less self-aware. The transspace drive.” He rubbed his palms together slowly. “A habitation module, with
much
better armor.”

“We underestimated that part,” Vidal said shrewdly. “We know now, there’s a five percent chance we can get squished during a bad transit on any gate.”

“But we can armor against it,” Vaurien added. “We will, next time.”

“Next time?” Travers echoed.

“New assignment.” Vaurien stirred with an obvious effort, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “The Resalq want to get a team together to go study Zunshu 161-D – the planet, not the people. We downloaded the computer core, and where it failed, the Veldn filled in the blanks. There’s enough Zunshu data to keep scientists busy for a decade. And as a species the Zunshu are not just harmless, they’ve actually become dangerously vulnerable.”

“If they don’t get their act together inside one more century,” Travers mused, “that city of theirs will have deteriorated past the point of salvage. It’s in bad shape. I saw some of the data – Mark was running it. Two or three machines out of a hundred are still running.”

Richard seemed philosophical about it. “The wages of sin? There used to be a saying about the ‘sins of the father’ being visited on future generations. Their last machines go down, and they’ll be back to living on the sunny uplands of the algae beds, in the kelp forests where they started out, hunting the big cephalopods for food and
playing
with buoyancy and chemistry, as their ancestors did ten thousand years ago.” He sighed, a sound of resignation. “But their
planet
is an incredible chemical engine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so rich. 161-D didn’t make the Zunshu as intelligent as they are, but it did gift them with the means to go to space, and to transspace. It’s a beautiful, beautiful place. If you’re a planetologist or a chemist.”

“So Lai’a will be taking a science crew out there.” Travers’s brows rose. “Soon?”

“Before it heads out on a transspace cruise, looking for a new
Zunshunium
lode,” Vaurien affirmed.

“Risky?” Vidal shared a frown with Travers. “Anything happens to Lai’a,” he speculated, “anywhere out there, and if it doesn’t come back the science team is marooned.”

“True – but not for long.” Vaurien gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the labs. “Talk to Barb and Mark. They’re talking about a ship they want to call the
Elarne
Zhivun
, which means
Transspace Gypsy
, or perhaps
Transspace Wanderer
. As it happens, there’s an asteroid miner sitting, wrecked, on the other side of the Bronowski Reef. We beacon-marked the claim on it years ago, never had any reason to go out and bring it to Alshie’nya – now we do. The engines are no good, the AI was fried by a close Hellgate event, but the hull is sound. We’re assigning the
Esprit de Liberté
to the salvage, soon as we get back. Four to six months and the
Gypsy
should be viable, especially since she doesn’t need the warload of a carrier battle group.”

“Because there’s no one to fight,” Travers said in a groan of something very like relief. “There’s no war.”

Vidal breathed a long sigh. “It happened. ‘After the war’ – how many times have we said those words? I came to hate the sound of them. But it’s now, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Vaurien’s dark eyes had regained their sparkle. “And we know exactly where the Veldn are. We could beg a favor – a science crew could ask for a ride home, if they were in a real heap of trouble. The Veldn have comm drones all over the 161 system. Contacting them is simple.”

“It’s kind of nice having friends out there,” Vidal mused. “You better tell Robert and Alec we invited them home for tea.”

“Top of the agenda,” Vaurien agreed. “We’re on the
Wastrel
, headed for Borushek and Velcastra, soon as we’ve touched base with Tully. The
Esprit
ought to be just about ready to come online. Load up the AI, hand her to Tully, watch him take off on a shakedown cruise, and we’re out of there. Mark wants to offload data to Riga, take a look around the old homestead. And you,” he added to Vidal, “need to spend some quality time with the old man. Your Aunt Alexis is planning to spend a while with the husband and son who’ve almost forgotten what she looks like, so you’ve no excuse for running away to transspace … at least for a while.”

“But Lai’a will be gone soon,” Vidal protested, “and it won’t be back for months, maybe years.”

“And the
Gypsy
should be flying transspace trials in four or five months.” Richard cocked his head at Vidal. “You want her, or not?”

Vidal’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?” Vaurien folded his arms across his chest, cautious with his left side. “You’ll need to recruit and train a navigator – you’re losing Jo. She and Ernst want to ship with us. You won’t separate Neil and Curtis, and they’re on the
Wastrel
, too. Perlman will want to stay with Jim Fujioka, and I already offered Jim the
Wastrel
. I’m losing Tully, remember. He’s taking the
Esprit
, so I’m short an engineer, and a Weimann specialist. So Gill Perlman will be on the
Wastrel
with her other half.”

“And you won’t separate Hubler and Rodman,” Travers added. “They’re dying to get back on the
Harlequin
and vanish into Freespace till they get bored with bumming around backwater worlds for the thrill of it. Then – it’s Sanmarco and Dominguez and Marak, the casinos, splurge the spoils … back to Alshie’nya, rendezvous with the
Wastrel
when it’s time for Roark to have the new legs grafted.”

The remark inspired a chuckle from Grant. “I already made the date. I’ll be here, with the tanks and an OR online.” He gave an animated shiver. “God, I’ll be through finals, qualifying as a specialist long before then.”

“You already have your berth.” Vaurien paused and angled an amused glance at Grant. “So you have your finals coming up, so what? Don’t tell me you’re nervous!”

“Scared spitless,” Grant confessed.

“Don’t be.” Vaurien gestured at Vidal, and at himself. “You’ve done more work, and better, in less time than any other doctor I know. You know this stuff inside out, Bill. You’re
ready
. Trust me.”

An enormous shudder ambushed Grant. “God, I hope so. If I blow it on some stupid details I go blank and can’t remember on the day, it’s another year of study before I can re-sit the finals.”

“We’ll be gone by then.” Vaurien studied him with a frown. “I’ll be candid with you, Bill. I don’t really care about certificates and diplomas. I’ve already signed you as my CMO, and you’re welcome aboard. We’re a Freespacer operation – I’m not bound by Deep Sky red tape. And we’re headed out, way out, soon enough. If you’re coming along, what’s your worry?”

“Point,” Grant admitted. “But it would be damn’ fine to have the piece of paper, the validation, formal recognition.”

“You’ll get it.” Vaurien paused as Grant brandished the loaded hypogun intended for Vidal. “If you don’t, kill a year with the books in your spare time. Specialize. Work with Etienne … come back and take the finals in your own good time.”

“I will.” Grant was busy with Vidal’s nano now, loading the hypogun. “Okay, Mickey-lad, which side d’you want this in?”

“Pick one,” Vidal said resignedly. “Six shots a day, I’m black and blue all over.”

The gun thudded, inspiring a grunt, and he pulled his collar back up over lean muscle. He was wiry now, where the Delta Dragon, the
Kiev
’s CAT leader, had been gloriously full-bodied; but he was strong, Travers knew. He was healthy, and no one valued his health more than Vidal. An hour every day, he was in the gym. The weights he pushed and pulled were not the impressive loads he would have pressed years ago, but they were comparable to Marin’s numbers, and nothing to be ashamed of. Still, not a spare ounce clung to Vidal anywhere. He had a fashionable leanness which would soon be turning heads in Elstrom, and in the last week, while Lai’a made its way back through the labyrinth of transspace, he had taken to dressing in charcoal denims and black silk.

“Recruit yourself a navigator, Mick.” Richard was on his way out. “Take over the
Gypsy
project, if you want it.”

“Answerable to whom?” Vidal worked his shoulder around to ease the tightness left by the shot. “I won’t be a monkey on the end of some chain held by a Commonwealth politician.”

The remark made Vaurien’s face darken. “Nor would I. But the
Gypsy
will be a Freespacer. She’ll belong to the same consortium that built Lai’a. You go out, find us a Zunshulite lode,” he added, “and you’ll be so stinking rich, you could buy and sell the clan estates back on Velcastra … you could,” he said thoughtfully, “commission your own driftship.”

The possibilities had just begun to dawn on Vidal, and he gave a low whistle. “Well, now … that changes the color of everything, doesn’t it? Hey, Billy, can I get out of here?”