STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (4 page)

“L
AURA Shemzak,” the woman said. “I am Friend Chivon Lasster.”

“It’s about goddamned time!” Laura said.

“I am a busy officer, Laura.” The woman stared placidly from behind her desk, her expression and voice cool. “You are fortunate to find yourself an audience with a Friend so soon.”

Laura slammed her hand on the desk. “Cut the crap, stoneface. I’m getting to talk to you because I’m hot stuff in your damned Intelligence Net, and you bloody well know it.” She leaned over the desk, and if her reach had been longer, or the desk less wide, she would have grabbed the officious bitch by her wide black lapels and shaken her hard. “Now, where the hell is my brother? Tell me what has happened to Cal Shemzak!”

An eyebrow raised into the blond bangs of Friend Lasster’s pageboy haircut.’ “Was the Intelligence brief insufficient? There was a Jaxdron raid on Mulliphen last week. Cal Shemzak was captured. There are oddments of other facts, mostly irrelevant. But the central fact is that there is simply nothing we can do. The Jaxdron have the man you call your ‘brother.’ “A faint sneer came to Friend Lasster’s lips at the archaic term. “And unless they choose to return him, with heartfelt apologies no doubt, you are not likely to see him again.”

Laura Shemzak stared eye to eye with the older woman, as though that alone could work her will. After a moment of steely silence she spoke, tersely. “You fit me with a blip-ship, and I’ll find him.”

The woman behind the desk leaned back in her chair and laughed derisively. She turned and thumbed a control. A holocomp display activated. Pressing appropriate buttons conjured a series of readouts—ghost letters hanging in the air. Friend Lasster’s eyes brushed over these casually, then fixed upon Laura Shemzak.

“Ah yes,” she said. “I forgot about your specialty. You appear to be quite a unique operative.” Her tone of voice changed to calm respect. “You are to be commended.”

“I have been, thank you.” Laura said, dark eyes blazing. “And now I want cooperation!” Her face, when less constricted with fury, might be called beautiful, with its perfectly tapered nose, high cheekbones, and thick black eyebrows. Now, though, severity masked any loveliness. High glossy boots added a good eight centimeters to her short stature. She wore a black jump suit, black turtleneck, and black gloves: her usual attire. Her black hair was clipped short. The only color to her was the cream of her face, the specks of green in her eyes, and a blood-red scarf tied casually around her neck. “I’ve been serving you frakking bureaucrats for four years now, doing your dirty-laundry Intelligence work and testing your new equipment on the side. You bastards owe me, and I intend to collect.”

“I take it that what you mean to collect is one blip-ship, to hop in and streak off into an area of trillions of square kilometers of unknown space in search of one lowly individual. You lend the phrase ‘needle in a haystack’ new meaning, Agent Shemzak.”

“Get your head out of the clouds, lady,” Laura said, stalking around the side of the desk and pushing a code into the keyboard of the holocomp. “You think I’m stupid? I work for IntelNet, remember. I’ve got access to just as much of the inside scoop as you do.”

Colors danced. Figures swirled in the air like a bunch of silent but angry insects, eventually collecting into an uneasy hover. Laura stabbed her fingers through the holograph. “Can you read this, Lasster?”

Friend Lasster could not hide her annoyance. “With my Interpret Compiler, yes.”

“Well, I can read the raw stuff, Lasster. There was just enough machinery operating in the wreckage of Mulliphen’s defense systems to put a tracer on those Jaxdron whip-ships. They’re headed in a direction that could only take them one place … Baleful. Coridian system, Marchgild sector. The first territory the bastards grabbed when they made their move five years ago. You remember Baleful, don’t you? Right by those binaries: the Witch’s Tits. Smack dab in the center of the Underspace Fault, too, which is probably why the kidnapped Cal. Baleful used to be ours, remember? We’ve got memory bytes up the wazoo on Baleful, to say nothing of projections and simulations. Hell, the only problem with you Friends is that you ain’t got the frakking
cojones
to even ponder some kind of rescue mission. You ought to thank me for taking it upon my able shoulders to deal with this crisis situation.”

She grinned, showing teeth faintly stained by
rictori
smoke.

“And you volunteer for this—ah—duty purely out of the kindness of your heart, to say nothing of the vast respect you have for the Friends and our government.” Lasster’s voice was sharp with sarcasm.

Laura folded her arms against her chest and kept her grin. “Yeah.”

Friend Chivon Lasster swiveled and went to her bar for a drink. “Only very special Friends are permitted alcoholic beverages in their offices.” She plopped ice into a glass, added a spill of sparkle whiskey. “My weakness, Laura. Would you care for some?”

“Uh uh. Slaughters my serotonin.”

Lasster drank. “Now, your motivation for this gallant gallivanting is not precisely as clear as you declare, is it? You see, I, too, have access to certain memory areas that even you cannot delve into.”

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I’m too much a lady to muck about in that junk,” said Laura, unable to control her defensiveness.

“I took the time this morning, Laura Shemzak, to avail myself of my unladylike abilities.” Lasster sipped at the cool, effervescent drink and stared into a shifting mood sculpture. The lights, previously playful, darkened into shadowplay. “An interesting little story, Laura, one which, as a Friend responsible for the stability of the state’s homeostasis, I can hardly condone.”

“No one asked you, you frakking bitch,” Laura Shemzak shot back.

“Sticks and stones, blippie.”

Laura cringed at the word. She turned away to hide any vulnerability that might wash over her face.

“It makes for an interesting aberration, Shemzak. A tale of … what is the archaic term? … ah yes, sentimentality worthy of some squalid colony. A male and female from the same brood vats accidentally placed in the same growschool, developing an attachment, and then, coincidence piled upon accident, discovering their fleshly relationship.”

“Brother … ” said Laura. “And sister. Can’t you say it, Friend Lasster? Just pairings of syllables like any other words.”

“ … flesh pairs, as I said, who found some perverted thrill in that knowledge, and in the concealment of that knowledge from Friends, from the authoritative system that created you,” Chivon Lasster continued stiffly. “And in your perversity you created a rebellious bond, a bond whose value you clearly place far above your duties and fealty sworn to your creators.”

Laura shrugged. “We’ve done a damned fine job for you, all of you. Our relationship … our love”—she spat the word out spitefully—”for each other has never interfered with performance of what our Aptitude Training Vectors have led us to. Look, Friend Lasster,” she said in a softer voice, “all I ask is for the chance to find Cal, a chance that only someone with my abilities might have.”

“All we can do now, Laura Shemzak, is to take your request under consideration. Your work has been good and—”

“Consideration?” Laura almost yelled. “Time is at a premium here! I must do this now. Who knows—”

A chime sounded, interrupting Laura’s frustrated harangue. They both turned to see a door behind Chivon Lasster’s desk sliding open. This was not the door she had used to come in, Laura realized.

A man entered the room, wearing a military outfit. His features were sharp, his eyes canny. “Pardon my intrusion, Friend Lasster. But you did say that Citizen Laura Shemzak was due for an audience at this time. And I can see that though I am not prompt, Laura Shemzak is. Good day to you, Laura.”

Perplexed, Laura nodded.

“I do believe I can handle this matter, Friend Zarpfrin,” Lasster said testily.

“You forget, Friend Lasster, that as soon as any matter pertaining to the Jaxdrons leaves human-inhabited space, it enters my domain.” The officer had a high, shiny forehead and a prissy demeanor enhanced by the height at which he held his round nose.

“How did you learn of this matter?”

Laura saw the annoyance in Chivon Lasster’s attitude and struck while the iron was hot. “I’m sure that Friend Zarpfrin can read as well as you or I. Now, what I propose, Zarpfrin, is this: you provide me with a blip-ship and I’ll do the rest.”

“If Zarpfrin can read, he can also hear, and I’m sure he’s been listening to our conversation and knows of your request.”

Zarpfrin parted with a reassuring smile. “Through the privacy filter, Friend Lasster, as required. Now, as to Cal Shemzak, though … we naturally regret his loss, Laura, but he is expendable. Besides, a venture into Jaxdron-held space, even for a woman with your … odd and unique abilities, even with the use of a blip-ship … why, that would be tantamount to suicide.”

Laura smiled. “Yeah.”

“Then what you are suggesting is that we sacrifice one of our top agents, to say nothing of an expensive starship, for the slim chance of retrieving a man we don’t really need?”

“I have a considerable bank account, as your files will no doubt tell you, Lasster,” said Laura. “How about if I put that up as a deposit against any blip-ship loaned to me?”

“Ludicrous,” said Lasster.

The other Friend held up a hand. “Now now, Friend Lasster, I have been taking this matter under heavy consideration and have even discussed it with the Council of Five—”

“The Five …. You went above my—”

“Time is of the utmost value here, as I am sure we are all aware. Now, as we have indicated, the Mulliphen incident has already been very costly to us, and the loss of Cal Shemzak is something we were prepared to write off. However, Citizen Shemzak’s brave request alters matters considerably.” He turned limpid eyes back to Laura, and for the first time ever in her dealings with the Friends she saw a speck of kindness. “We would certainly like to see Cal Shemzak returned to his state duties, even though, as you know, we are required to strongly disapprove of the relationship you claim. However, we would also very much like to have a look at Jaxdron operations on Baleful, as that beachhead is one of several which may be involved with military maneuvers to come.”

“Why can’t you just speak plainly, man?” Laura said, excited but also annoyed. “You want me to scout weapons placement. And unless I miss my guess, if I can manage to do that, it doesn’t make a hell of a lot of difference whether I return or not, as long as I subspace-radio the details.”

Lasster’s face resumed its marblelike coolness. “Still a foolhardy mission.”

“A human with a mission is not a fool, Friend Lasster.” He turned back to Laura Shemzak. “Though your reasons oppose Friendhood standards, the council finds no reason why we should not use them to our advantage. Knowing this, do you still want to undertake this journey?”

“You bet your balls I do!” Laura grinned over with triumph at Lasster, who swallowed the last of her drink and poured some more. “Just give me a ship and I’m ready to trip!”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid,” said Friend Zarpfrin. “Naturally, for the sake of the mission’s success, we wish you to utilize the latest-model blip-ship—”

“Hot damn …. Not the Armageddon Special!”

“The XT Mark Nine, to be exact.”

“Well, they’re still testing those at the factory on Shortchild in the Capellan system, I thought.”

“Yes. We can immediately arrange for your transport to Shortchild, and will naturally subspace instructions to the office on that planet. When you arrive, the Mark Nine should be ready for your use. Fortunately, Capella is on the way toward Jaxdron space anyway.”

“Now, that’s what I call serendipity! I’m set to go.”

“One little detail, but an important detail, Laura,” Friend Zarpfrin said. “The Mark Nine is a significant advance over the other vessels in the XT line. Proper use of its full capacity requires an adjustment in your cybernetic systems.”

“Okay, so you’re going to poke around in me some more. That doesn’t take long. It’s not like you’ve never put the screws to me before.”

“Excellent. You shall be escorted to the nearest biomech hosp, where you will meet our specialist, Dr. Minz.”

“What happened to Hamsin? He’s my usual med,” Laura said, for the first time feeling some small concern. She had grown to trust Dr. Hamsin. He’d been with her from the very beginning of the mech operations, when she was just eleven years old.

“Dr. Minz has been specially trained to deal with the bio-applications of the new parameters of the XT series, Citizen Shemzak. This will only require the afternoon and the evening. Following a short sleep, you will be dispatched to the next transport to Shortchild.”

“Thank you, Friend Zarpfrin, and please thank the council as well.” She shot a hateful glance toward Chivon Lasster. “It was clear that I was barking up the wrong tree in this office.”

“Friend Lasster,” said Friend Zarpfrin, “would you kindly arrange for Citizen Shemzak’s transportation to biomech facilities? And then I should like to have a brief meeting with you, concerning your attitude in this matter.”