Event Horizon (Hellgate) (127 page)

Marin was surprised. “I thought you got the control codes from the Veldn, since the Zunshu data was patchy.”

“Oh, we have the codes,” Dario said fatalistically. “The problem isn’t the codes, it’s the hardware. These stasis chambers are not just old, they’re
ancient
. They’re also neglected, and if you take surface readings off the event horizons, you break out in a sweat. You looked at the stuff I sent you, Mark?”

His expression had darkened. “I looked. It seems these chambers have never been serviced, and like the one on Ulrand, as you said, they’re in quite poor condition.” His brows arched thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t like to even try opening them without a thorough study; and when I did make the attempt, it would have to be in controlled conditions on a world where an explosion like the El Khouri event wouldn’t cause havoc within a living biosphere.”

“Damn, that’s a nasty job,” Vidal observed.

“And a long one,” Tor said acidly. “Whoever takes this assignment is going to be nailed to the lab for months, more likely years.”

“You?” Travers wondered.

For a long moment both Dario and Tor hesitated. “I dunno,” Dario said then. “For a start, we don’t know how welcome we’re going to be in the Resalq community, the new colony. There’s a lot of old fogeys there, to whom Emil Kulich is the ultimate, the best, the icon. Me and Tor? Mongrels, remember. Tor and Emil only ever fought. Sometimes it was all I could do to stop it coming to blows.”

“Now, dump us down in the middle of a whole colony full of these old farts,” Tor growled, “and it’ll be blood, and it won’t take long.”

Mark held up both hands. “Why don’t you just wait and see? All we’re doing on this assignment is offloading the stasis chambers. Early data says the new colony world has three moons. Pick one. We’ll put down a small installation, same as the camp on Kjorin, settle the stasis chambers, and present the science team with the entire data load we patched together from the Zunshu AI and the Veldn. This one’s not ours to lose sleep over, Dario – not,” he added, “unless you actually want to be there, sweating blood over it.”

“Running the risks, like El Khouri,” Tor added. “Putting up with morons like Emil Kulich. Trying not to punch the nose right off his nasty face.” He glared sidelong at Dario. “I miss Sark. I miss the nightlife.”

“You want to go out on the town?” Vidal offered. ”I’ve got to buzz over to Sark myself. There’s … something I need. You want to ride over in the Capricorn?”

“Do we?” Tor sat up and looked from Dario to Mark and back.

“Go, by all means,” Mark told him. “I’ve no desire to have my eardrums ruptured in some club! I’ll see you back on the
Wastrel
. The only project I have time for right now is Lai’a.”

“I could say the same,” Dario sighed. “I guess we could go to Sark.”

“Stores, malls, cinema,” Tor said with unbridled glee. “Hey, Curtis, Neil, anything you want from the big smoke?”

Marin could think of nothing, and merely shook his head. He watched as Tor bounded back upstairs to change, and Dario groaned. Vidal chuckled as he fetched a black leather jacket from the closet by the front door, and shrugged into it. “I guess I’ll see you back on the
Wastrel
,” he said, “unless you want to wait here. We’ll swing back to Riga when Tor’s had enough.”

“Do that,” Mark told him. “I could send for the Trofeo, but since you’re already down here … and incidentally, don’t let Tor overdo it. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is. Neither are you, Michael.”

“I know my limitations.” Vidal sobered fast. “This is the first time Bill Grant’s letting me out on my own, and I’ve had my orders. No booze, no smokes, no junk food, and I keep one eye on my chrono.” He patted his pocket. “I have a hypogun in here, preloaded. He’s trusting me to keep up with the schedule and the truth is, if I don’t, I feel like shit.” He gave Dario a thoughtful look. “You want
me
to keep an eye on Tor?”

“He might listen to you,” Dario sighed. “Me, he ignores.”

“Then, I guess I’ll keep an eye on Tor,” Vidal agreed. The blue eyes sparkled as he gave Travers a wink. “See you later, kid.” He took Mark’s hand for a moment on the way by. “I’ll go preflight the Capricorn. Anything you want from Sark, Mahak?”

But Mark only touched Vidal’s face with curious gentleness, outlining the old Delta Dragons tattoo. “Just yourself, safe and well. I talked to Richard an hour ago. We’re shipping out at around midnight, local time, so don’t be late.”

The Capricorn was lifting on blustering repulsion minutes later, raising a miniature snowstorm in the street, when Marin asked, “What’s the situation with the
Freyana
?”

“We honestly don’t know,” Mark admitted. “She’s just gone dark, and though the colony transmitters are still running, they don’t mention her.”

“You’re worried for the colony itself?” Travers hazarded. “Maybe something that didn’t show up on preliminary scans just jumped up and bit them?”

“It’s not impossible.” Mark sighed. “And there’s not one damned thing we can do about it till we get there.”

“How long?” Marin knew little about the new world, only that the
Aenestra
had charted it, surveyed it.

“Twelve days or so.” Mark adjusted the gas jets again. “Give or take, at the best speed the
Wastrel
can maintain.”

“Two
weeks
?” Travers demanded. “That’s …” Hands on Marin’s knees, he got to his feet.

“You don’t have to come along,” Mark said reasonably. “You could stay right here on Borushek. House sit,” he suggested. “Enjoy this property. Keep the Trofeo, live the quiet life till we get back in a month or so.”

The quiet life? Marin actually laughed. The novelty of having nothing to do and all day to do it in would wear off in a few days, and Travers would be chafing at the inactivity. Three weeks on the
Wastrel
put him back in the bosom of a salvage crew, with the science team
unraveling
the mystery of Lai’a on one hand, and the fascination of a new world ahead – a world where the colony ship had gone dark and the big groundside transmitters were conveying oddly inadequate information.

“We’ll be on the
Wastrel
,” Curtis said easily. “I just hadn’t realized this new world of theirs was so far out.”

“Carahne.” Mark gestured in what might well have been the direction of the
Mare Aenestra
. “That’s the name they’re suggesting. It has to be put to a community vote, of course, but Carahne has a nice ring to it.”

“It means something?” Travers wondered.

“In the old language it means
beginning
,” Marin nodded slowly.

“And particularly the start of something new,” Arlott added. “It’s a good name.”

“It’s an excellent name,” Mark agreed, “and from the data we’ve been seeing, passed back by the colony transmitters, the world is a jewel, one of the very few that need so little terraforming, you can put down your roots while the machinery runs in the background.”

“So they’ll be staying there.” Travers looked into the fire, and nodded toward the street, the town. “And Riga?”

“Will drowse while it decays back into the mountains,” Mark said regretfully. “And a few of us will be sad. We built this place when Sark was not much more than a string of villages ranged around the spaceport. This house has been as much my home as the house on Saraine, or the
Carellan
, for a long time.”

“Well, damn.” A rush of emotion caught Marin by surprise. “All things end, Mark. All things change.”

“Old Chinese proverb,” Alexis Rusch offered. “The only thing that never changes is that everything always changes.”

“Very wise, these old Chinese,” Travers said with the merest hint of cynicism. “So we’re just on Borushek for today, and then gone?”

“I’m afraid so.” Mark turned his back on the fire, let it warm him. “Like any itinerants, we go where the work is! First to Carahne – and I’ll not be wasting my time on the way there. I’ve a rudimentary AI to configure before we can run the reengineered virus, see if we can heal and reboot the version of Lai’a that went to war with us. Once we’ve ascertained what’s become of the
Freyana
and offloaded cargo, set up a research facility, it’s on to Saraine, and then back to Alshie’nya. Get Lai’a put back together – and that’s the beginning of the job ahead of us. If Lai’a doesn’t reboot cleanly, it’s going to be interesting, and we’ve no time to waste in dickering.”

They would contract the
Harlequin
, possibly the
Mako
, perhaps other ships, to seed the comm buoys into both sides of the frontier, Marin thought, while they brought a copy of Lai’a online and put it through the requisite thousand hours of testing. At the same time they must recruit a science team for Zunshu 161-D, drawing on the best specialists from the Deep Sky labs, and from Carahne. The first step was to design and build a science platform from which to study the planet. The work never ended, and completion on one project spelled the beginning of two others.

Conversation wound down into desultory terms while the sky darkened with the incoming weather front. Marin stood at the wide windows in the early afternoon, watching Riga settle back down, as if the town had just shaken itself for a few moments and was subsiding back into a hibernation that could last for decades, or forever. Travers was arguing amiably with Leon and Roy over a veeree game; Mark and Rusch had gone down to the labs to putter, and the highband surprised Marin out of a reverie.

“Captain Vaurien is calling from the
Wastrel
,” Joss announced.

“Trouble?” Marin wondered as Travers appeared.

The big threedee in the study was already bright, with Vaurien and Jazinsky framed in it against the backdrop of
Wastrel
Ops. Their faces were studies in grim satisfaction. Marin shared a glance with Travers as Vaurien asked, “Did you see it?”

“See what?” Travers gestured back into the living room. “We tuned the world out. What did we miss?”

“Instant replay.” Jazinsky aimed a handy at the threedee, and the display shifted to file footage.

Images and vid clips had been assembled to accompany the commentary, with portraits culled from the CNS archives over several decades, views of properties in the homeworlds. The read-over had been laid by one of the major news anchors; Marin was not sure of the name, but her voice was deep, with suitable gravitas as she said,

“Senator Charleston Aimes Rutherford was executed in the early hours of this morning at the Hydralis Memorial Hospital. He is reported to have died peacefully in his sleep, following sedation in his final meal and an injection of medical nano which terminated brain function at 1:15am, Hydralis time.

“The Earth-born billionaire who was tried and convicted of masterminding the so-called CL-389 incident, in which an ore-hauler inbound from Hellgate was set on a collision course for the city of Hydralis, never confessed culpability. He never expressed regret for the actions that would have murdered as many as four hundred million people in an instant, and destroyed the biosphere of this world, save for the outstanding service of elements of the Delta Dragons – Delta Squadron of the Carrier Air Taskforce of the super-carrier
Sark
, which was named
Kiev
at the time of the event.

“Omaru, today, remembers the courage and sacrifice of the Delta Dragons. All surviving members are to be awarded the Star of Victory. Some will receive it posthumously.

“The body of Senator Rutherford has been placed in cryogen storage, pending its repatriation to Earth.

“Attorneys from Chicago and Marsport made an unconvincing case for his defense, claiming Mr. Rutherford was misidentified as the power behind the CL-389 incident.

“Irrefutable evidence was provided by Deep Sky agencies which penetrated the security of key offices on Earth and Mars, including those of Mr. Rutherford himself. This evidence was supported by statements from witnesses who worked closely with the rogue Freespacer,
Boden
Zwerner
, whose blackmarket empire stretched from Marak City, Ulrand, to the unregistered, unpoliced Freespacer port of Halfway.

“The connection between
Zwerner
and Rutherford is unquestionable. At last Mr. Rutherford’s attorneys amended their plea of not guilty to a petition for sentence to be commuted to life imprisonment, to be served on Earth. Despite three appeals the request was not granted, on the grounds that the government, judiciary and people of Omaru had no confidence that the sentence would be imposed, once Mr. Rutherford left the Deep Sky.

“He is survived by three wives, eight children, twenty grandchildren, who will inherit estates on Earth and Mars, and majority shares in the ship construction company, RMC Industries. Rutherford-Mayhew-Carvalho Industries remains one of the ‘High Five’ group of companies which dominate the industrial and economic landscape in the homeworlds.

“It is not by chance that Senator Rutherford, President Jardine Mayhew and Colonel Tomas
Carnairo
de Carvalho – commanding the super-carrier
London
at the Battle of Jagreth – owned and operated a business empire measurable in trillions of Confederate credits, and tens of trillions of colonial dollars. President Mayhew’s ‘strong fleet policy’ inspired the boom in ship building which propelled no few families of Earth and Mars, like the Rutherfords and the
Carvalhos
, into the ranks of homeworlds royalty.

“President Mayhew is the last survivor of the founding trio. Colonel Carvalho was killed when the
London
was lost with all hands. Today, Mr. Mayhew lives with his fifth wife and three of his eleven children, on the family’s estates outside Barsoom, in the southern hemisphere of Mars. Due to the data lag between the Deep Sky and the homeworlds he could not be contacted for comment on the sentencing of Mr. Rutherford, but of Colonel
Carvalho’s
death he said, ‘The Confederacy has lost a giant whose name will pass into legend in the chronicles of our people.’

“Charleston Aimes Rutherford is expected to be repatriated to Earth for interment on his estates in North America. His attorneys are reported to have already contacted his current wife, the Donizetti heiress, Suzanne-Marie Chalmers. The government of Omaru confirmed this morning that it has granted permits and visas for an unarmed civilian ship from the Confederacy to enter Commonwealth space. The vessel will register at Hydralis High Dock in the coming months, and will be subject to routine quarantine and customs protocols.”

The images of Chalmers, Rutherford, the Confederate banner and Omaru’s orbital docks faded out, replaced by Vaurien and Jazinsky. They looked more grim than jubilant, but Jazinsky’s fists clenched in a small expression of victory.

Harrison Shapiro’s voice surprised Marin – he had not realized the man was standing in the doorway behind Travers. “Another chapter closes,” Shapiro observed. “You realize, Richard, the bounty on our heads will be doubled. Those families will want revenge, not justice … you don’t mess with mercantile royalty and not expect to pay the price.”

“But they can’t touch us,” Vaurien said, “not where we’re going. The
Wastrel
might have been recognized in Borushek high orbit, but any Terran agents working here now must be buried down deep. They don’t have the resources to hit this ship – all they can do is make a call, and we’re gone in ten hours. Earth doesn’t know any world called Carahne even exists, and they’ll lose track of us as we enter the
Mare Aenestra
. They have no ports, no worlds, no interests out that way. They might even show up with a warship, but they’ve no jurisdiction.”

“Which wouldn’t stop them taking military action in the Carahne system,” Alexis Rusch’s voice warned over the comm from the labs.

And Leon Sherratt: “So defend the system. Lay down the same minefields as defend Jagreth and Velcastra. Mark?”

Mark had no hesitation. “Yes. In fact, I’d do it on this assignment, Richard. As soon as we’ve offloaded the stasis chambers and answered the question of what’s become of the
Freyana
.”

“Done,” Vaurien said readily. “Speaking of which, we’re on pace to ship out unless someone has a reason to stay.”

He was looking into the vid pickup – looking at Mark, Marin knew. The threedee in the lab was online. But Mark’s voice was as firm as it was sad. “There’s no reason to stay in Riga. Dario and Tor have packed half the house, Leon and Roy have packed the other half. Everything is tagged for Saraine, of course, though for myself, I can’t stay there in any degree of security. I’m too well known. Dario and Leon aren’t – yet – on any death list, so they and Tor and Roy, can enjoy Saraine.” He sighed. “And I’m afraid I’m on the move again. Diaspora. Like the old days.”

“Like the rest of us,” Rusch added. “Harrison and myself are no more safe than you are, Mark. We can live in the grip of a security cordon, literally under house arrest on Elstrom StarCity, and I daresay we’d enjoy a great deal of comfort. But we’d be easy to pinpoint, and the same bounty hunters who’ll soon be after Robert’s head would be glad to take ours on the same ticket!”

And Chandra Liang was keenly aware of the situation, Marin thought. He was quite ready to spend three terms in office, fifteen years living with security at every door, never leaving StarCity in any vehicle without weapons and armor. But the bounty on his head would follow him lifelong, and eventually he would be ready to find freedom beyond the vengeful reach of the Confederacy. Vanish.

“Then, we leave at midnight, Riga time,” Vaurien said musingly. “Harrison, you left a message – you want to use the
Wastrel
’s highband from this system.”

“Yes.” Shapiro seemed to shake himself. “I finished the presentations for Chandra Liang, Tarrant, Prendergast and Cardwell a little while ago. I think they’re … persuasive. We can expect Robert to take our part, and Joyce Cardwell has worked in cahoots with him for so many years, I know she’ll see the sense of properly defending the frontier. Tarrant’s a realist who’s spent years under the gun – and he’s had good results recently, dealing with a Freespacer crew. Captain Ingersol set a good example as a skilled enabler, which should make Alec think
favorably
about Freespacer worlds, especially those which are applying for Commonwealth membership. Prendergast … well, he’s the unknown factor. He’ll be a harder sell on this issue, but I think my presentations are good enough to at least give Robert a strong position to fight from.” His expression darkened and he looked away. “I also need to contact the Kim family. Ulrand.” His voice thickened with emotion. “Better that the comm signal should be traceable to this system.

“I’ve some purely personal business to take care of this afternoon … a few calls to make. And a small personal indulgence. I want to walk in the snow, see the sun set over the Challenger Gulf one last time. Simple things, really, but Lauren and I used to enjoy the small things, and I promised a great deal to Jon that never happened.” He cleared his throat, searched for his voice. “Michael, Dario and Tor took the Capricorn to Sark for the afternoon, but they’ll be back in good time. We’ll be aboard to meet your schedule, Richard. No need to plan around us.”

“All right.” Vaurien shared the moment of grief. “I’ve already contacted the attorneys Alexis recommended. They have all the information they need to settle affairs with the Teniko family. His back pay, mission bonuses and a gratuity are banked with Atransa, ready for transfer.” He sighed heavily. “There’s no more we can do, Harry.”

“Except remember,” Shapiro added. “I seem to have filed Jon into the same place with Lauren. In here.” He tapped his temple. “They’re always there. They always will be. The highband, Richard?”