The Voyage of the Star Wolf (27 page)

Satisfied that all were ready, Hardesty glanced upward. “HARLIE?”

The visuals began appearing in the air above the table even before HARLIE began speaking. His voice was dispassionate. “Her Majesty's Starship
Sir James Burke
is a destroyer-class liberty ship with standard fittings and weaponry. She carries the flag of New Brittany and is presently based at Windsor Stardock.

“Six months ago, the
Burke
was pulled from active duty for a major refit. At the same time, her security rating was promoted to maximum level red. This briefing is also red-coded.

“Using the refit as cover, the
James Burke
has had three ultra-high-cycle envelope fluctuators installed.”

The holographic display of the
Burke
became a schematic. The high-cycle fluctuators were outlined in red. They were twice the size of normal
fluctuators and Korie noted that major modifications had been made within the
Burke
's hull. But if they worked . . . then the
Burke
would have doubled her effective velocity.

Tor was nodding in admiration. “That's a lucky captain—to have a super-stardrive.”

“Yeah,” agreed Hodel. “Wouldn't you like to have those in your engine room?”

Leen snorted. “I'd like to have an engine in my engine room, thank you.”

HARLIE ignored the comments and continued his presentation. “The new fluctuators will increase the
Burke
's rated stardrive velocity by a factor of two, making her one of the fastest ships in known space. Her operational rating is now two thousand times the speed of light. Her theoretical rating is twenty-three hundred.”

“We're lucky to hit nine-fifty,” Hodel said.

“Seven-fifty,” Leen corrected him.

“The Morthan Solidarity would trade a shipload of warlords for just one of those fluctuators,” Tor said thoughtfully.

“And they'd still be getting the best of the deal,” said Hardesty. “Our
only
strategic advantage in this war is the technological one. The Solidarity doesn't have the industrial base the Allies do. If they got their hands on one of those units, they'd be turning out copies in six months, and six months after that . . . we'd be in big trouble.”

“Four months ago,” said HARLIE. “the
Burke
was assigned to penetrate the Morthan sphere. As you can see, this is a particularly hazardous journey; it could not be safely completed by a slower vessel. Even the
Burke
will be at considerable risk.” He projected the
Burke
's course across a star map of the region. “However, the opportunity of the
Burke
's mission is of such importance to the Alliance that the risk is deemed acceptable. As a precaution, the
Burke
has been equipped with significant self-destruct capabilities; she is not to fall into enemy hands under
any
circumstances. That responsibility to protect the high-cycle technology is also shared by this vessel. The
Burke
's mission: to rendezvous with a Morthan vessel and pick up a single life-pod. Inside the life-pod will be a high-ranking ambassador carrying a secret peace initiative.”

Brik spoke quietly. His voice was a desolate rumble. “I don't believe it.”

The others glanced to him curiously, but the Morthan did not explain his skepticism.

HARLIE continued, “The peace initiative is apparently sponsored by a dissident faction within the Morthan Solidarity, called the Coalition of Warlords.”

Hodel grinned. “Not very solid, are they?”

“It is believed that the Coalition of Warlords will negotiate an end to hostilities to prevent further decimation of their ranks, and will force the leadership of the Solidarity to accept that settlement.”

Brik snorted.

Hardesty glanced over at him. “You have a problem with that, Mr. Brik?”

“It's a trap. Warlords don't negotiate.”

Hardesty accepted the comment without reaction.

“Sir?” asked Jonesy. “How do we know all this?”

Hardesty looked at the junior officer as if seeing him for the first time. “That's not your concern.”

“Yes, sir—I was just wondering about the reliability of the information.”

“We have sources within the Solidarity.”

“Oh.” Jonesy considered that. He looked troubled. “What will happen to them if they get caught?”

Brik said quietly, “The Morthans will gut them alive and hang their bodies up to cure.”

“Oof,” said Tor, an involuntary reaction.

“It's a Morthan insult,” explained Brik. “An honorable enemy would be eaten fresh.”

“Uck!” Hodel shuddered.

Brik looked to Korie. “You have a comment to make too?”

Korie chose his words very carefully. “I never comment on anyone else's eating habits.”

“Thank you,” said Brik.

“Gentlemen,” interrupted the captain. “May we continue? HARLIE, if you please?”

HARLIE continued in a voice that was disturbingly calm. “If everything has proceeded according to plan, the
Burke
will have completed her rendezvous mission by now and will be bringing her passenger back. The
LS-1187
is to proceed to a designated rendezvous with Her Majesty's Starship
Sir James Burke
and provide escort service to a designated location. The
Burke
has not yet been made aware of this location. We are carrying that information. I can only decode it when the captain of the
Burke
provides an authorization code.”

“Huh?” said Tor. “Escort service? We can't keep up with the
Burke
. No one can. What's the point?”

“It's obvious to me,” said Hodel. “The
Burke
wants a minimum of attention. We're her cover. We come into base together and nobody suspects that the
Burke
is anything but another rusty old tub.”

Hardesty's glance slid sideways to his executive officer. “Mr. Korie, what's the real reason?”

“Sir?”

“Can't you figure it out?” asked Hardesty. He looked at Korie coldly, as if Korie had deliberately chosen to be retarded.

“Um—” Korie thought fast. “What if the
Burke
gets captured by the Morthans? They could send her back, carrying a Hell-bomb, drop it into a sun, and take out a whole star system. Our job is to make sure that the
Burke
is clean before we tell her where her final destination is.”

“And if she isn't clean—?”

“I assume that's in the orders, sir.”

“Yes, it probably is. Would you like to speculate what would be appropriate in this situation?”

Korie allowed himself a shrug. “Well—based on what we've heard, I'd say that if we couldn't regain control of the
Burke
, then our job would be to destroy her.”

“Good,” said Hardesty, mildly surprised. “That's exactly what our orders are.” He added, “HARLIE, forget you heard those directives pertaining to the possible destruction of the
Burke
; there is to be no record in our ship's computer of any such orders or discussion pertaining to them.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Obviously,” said Hardesty, “fleet command does not think that is a very likely occurrence—or they would not have sent this ship to provide escort cover.” He clicked off the display. “All right. There you have it. The rendezvous is five days away. We'll be picking up the
Burke
uncomfortably close to the Morthan sphere. I'll want continual long-range scanning, confidence nine or above. Any questions? No? Mr. Korie, you have the conn.” He levered himself to his feet and exited briskly.

“Yes, sir. . . .” Korie said to his back.

Hodel waited until the door whooshed shut behind the captain. “I was hoping for something a little more . . . interesting,” he sighed.

“Are you using the Morthan definition of ‘interesting'?” asked Brik. To their uncomprehending looks, he explained, “
Interesting
—as in pertaining to your own death.” He added innocently, “Nothing concentrates the attention so much as the knowledge that you are about to die.”

“Uh, never mind,” said Hodel. “I'd rather be bored.” He swiveled back to his console.

Brian Armstrong stepped into the corridor grinning weakly. It was true what they said about Quillas. He was limp. He was haggard and weary.

Quilla Delta exited the cabin after him, looking politely contented.

Armstrong looked at her with a near-hopeless expression. He was flustered and red and unable to quantify the staggering effect of his experience. He was exhausted to the point of speechlessness.

The Quilla simply smiled at him. She'd seen this response before.

“Uh—” Armstrong gulped and swallowed and tried to find his voice. “I gotta go back on shift now. You were . . .” He waved his hands about uselessly. “. . .
Wow
.”

“Yes,” she answered mildly. “So were you. Thank you, Brian.” She turned and walked calmly away, leaving him staring after her.

Shaking his head, he started down the corridor in the opposite direction. Almost immediately, a different Quilla came up the corridor toward him. It was Gamma.

Quilla Gamma smiled with exactly the same expression as she passed him. “Yes. Thank you, Brian. You were quite good.”

“Huh? Wait a minute. You're—”

The Quilla touched herself lightly. “This is Gamma.”

Armstrong's eyes widened in realization. Every Quilla on the ship was tuned in and
feeling
the same thing.

His mouth fell open in shock.

Did Quillas—?

Suddenly, he felt nauseous.

Jonesy paused uncertainly in front of the door to Tor's cabin. Finally, he summoned up his nerve and tapped the entrance panel.

“Who is it?” came Tor's voice.

“Uh, it's Jonesy.”

The door slid open for him and he stepped gingerly inside. Cygnus Tor was working at her desk; she was wearing only shorts and a halter; the standard uniform aboard ship for women. Men usually wore T-shirts and shorts. Tor looked up with interest. “Hi, what's up?”

“I took your suggestion and uh—” Jonesy held up a small plastic device. “I built this for you.”

Tor was momentarily confused. “What suggestion?”

“Um, didn't you say something about a safety lock for the shower control? I took one apart and reprogrammed it and added a safety switch—”

Tor was leaning her chin on her fist. Now she hid her smile of amusement behind her knuckles. She glanced off as if discharging her laughter and then looked back to Jonesy. “It was a sort of a joke. I never really thought a safety panel was necessary in a shower—”

Jonesy's face fell. “Oh—”

“But maybe you're right,” she recovered quickly. “I mean, after all, it could happen. A sleeper might bump into it. Maybe we should install it and see—”

“I don't have to, if you don't want it.”