The Voyage of the Star Wolf (29 page)

“Am I?”

Korie replayed the conversation in his head, as best as he could remember it. “Maybe not.”

“Make up your mind. Which is it, Mr. Korie?”

“‘There's a reason for everything in the book. These procedures have all been derived from actual experiences—'” Korie quoted.

“I couldn't have said it better myself,” said Hardesty.

“But—” said Korie. “The book is insufficient—because it can't predict the situation that hasn't happened yet. Therefore . . . you follow the book until you run into the situation that isn't covered in the book. Then you
improvise
.”

“Almost,” said Hardesty coldly. “Fleet prefers the word
invent
.”

“Yes, sir. I'll remember that.” He looked to Tor. “All right. Send a coded chirp. When we get within thirty light-seconds, hit her with a tight beam and we'll try for direct conversation.” To Hodel, he added, “Close on her—very slowly. With extreme caution. Shields up. Arm all stations. Let's assume it's a Morthan trap and act accordingly.” He looked to Hardesty for his reaction.

The captain nodded. “That was by the book, Mr. Korie.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else? Do you have any specific orders?”

“What does the book say?”

Korie quoted, “‘Have a security team standing by. If the target vessel doesn't answer, be ready to board.'”

“That's correct.”

“You aren't going to give me any help on this, are you?” Korie said.

“You don't need any help,” said Hardesty. “At least, not yet.”

Korie turned to his security chief. “Mr. Brik, ready a mission team.”

Brik rose from his chair and approached Korie, looking very stiff.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Korie asked.

“Yes, I do.” Brik's answer was an ominous rumble that caught even the captain's attention.

Hardesty turned around to look up at Brik. “All right,” he said. “Enlighten us.”

“Destroy the
Burke
. Now. Don't approach her. Don't board her. It's a trap.”

Korie looked up at Brik sharply. “How can you be that certain?”

“You are not a Morthan. You could not possibly understand.”

“Try me.”

Brik took a breath. He hesitated only a moment while he selected the most appropriate phrasing. “The Morthan Solidarity is built on treachery. Lying is a martial art. It is a fact of life. It is the means to the end. It is the necessary part of manipulation. To you, lying is only a hobby. To the Morthan, it is a way of life. Humans are considered cripples—because you
trust
. In the Morthan language, the word for trust means ‘the condition necessary for betrayal.'” He added, “What I am saying to you is insufficient to convey the danger. That ship is coming from Morthan space. It is a trap.”

“But it's one of ours,” Korie said.

“No. It's one of
theirs
now. Count on it.”

Hardesty looked thoughtfully to Korie. “Now, you know why I want a Morthan on the Bridge. It helps to have someone who thinks like the enemy.”

“But we can't just—” Korie stopped himself. “There are procedures—” He looked to Brik, to Hardesty. “The book says—I mean, we
have
to go into that ship, because we
have
to know. The Alliance has to know—it's the whole mission! We have to ascertain the situation before we act.”

Hardesty agreed. “Yes. That's what the book says.”

“Sir—? You can't break procedure—”

Hardesty glared at him. “Yes, I can. It's an option. Breaking procedure is
always
an option.”

“But there's no justification for putting a fish into her—not yet. Not unless you have more confidence in one of Brik's hunches than in your own orders. Captain, we don't know what the situation is over there—maybe they've locked down for reasons of their own.”

“Don't assume anything, Commander. Especially do not make assumptions about my decisions.” He frowned thoughtfully as he considered the image of the
Burke
on the forward viewer. “All right. We'll send a team in.”

Korie sighed, relieved.

Brik was less sanguine. “From a human perspective, yes, that's the correct action. From a Morthan perspective—” He shrugged unhappily, as if he couldn't think of a polite way to say what he had to say. Finally, he just blurted it. “If I don't have the chance to tell you later, it has been a privilege to serve with you, sirs. Both of you.”

Hardesty looked dryly across to Korie. “Perhaps you should lead the team.”

“Sir?” Korie looked surprised. “That's Mr. Brik's responsibility.”

“I know that,” said the captain. “But you're more expendable.”

“Uh . . . right.” Korie didn't know if the captain was joking or not. Innocently, he asked, “Am I allowed to take a weapon?”

“That,” said Hardesty, “is entirely
your
decision.”

The tiny point of light on the screen began to resolve. It expanded and became a starship, silent and still.

On the Bridge, the mood became apprehensive and uncertain.

“Fifteen minutes till contact,” said Hodel.

“Still no reply,” reported Tor.

Korie sighed loudly. “I know what that means. I guess I'd better join the boarding party now.” He looked across to Hardesty. “I'm returning your command to you, sir.”

“Acknowledged,” Hardesty said.

Korie hesitated, halfway toward the forward exit. “Don't you want to wish me luck?”

“If you follow the book, you won't need it—and if you run into a situation where you have to invent, you'll need more than luck.”

“Right,” said Korie. “I should have known. Thank you, sir.” He stepped down and out the exit into the forward keel.

The forward airlock and the ancillary dressing bay were the farthest points forward in the vessel. Here, the members of the security team were dressing for their mission. There were lockers, starsuits, helmets, closets, racks of gear, weapons, communicators, rechargers, life-support modules, battle-armor, and a variety of good-luck charms, tokens, and religious icons.

Ten crewmembers, including Brik, were just going through their final checks. Korie also recognized Armstrong, Bach, Nakahari, and Quilla Zeta.

Their starsuits were very shiny, skintight body stockings. Each was a different color. Several had gaudy stripes. Korie neither approved nor disapproved of the fashion. Sometimes it was appropriate, sometimes not. Sometimes it didn't matter.

Korie opened his own locker and began pulling on his own suit. Brik came over and began assisting him, checking his helmet camera and weapons as he fitted them into place.

“Thanks,” said Korie.

“You're the last one,” said Brik. “Besides, it would not look good on my record if I failed to bring you back alive.”

“You're coming with?”

“Despite my misgivings about the situation, I am still chief of security. It is still my responsibility.”

“Then it doesn't really matter who leads the team, does it?”

“On the contrary. The leadership is the most important part of the job. It is always necessary to know where to fix the blame.”

Korie frowned at Brik. Had the Morthan intended that as a joke or not? He couldn't tell.
Do Morthans joke
? Would it be impolite to ask? Korie suppressed the question. There were more important concerns on his mind.

Across the bay, Brian Armstrong was fitting a new power-pack into his rifle. He looked up to see Quilla Zeta smiling shyly at him. “Brian,” she said. “I am still feeling wonderful. You are very ‘wow' too.”

Armstrong looked embarrassed and annoyed, both at the same time.
When was it going to stop
? But he faked a smile well enough to say, “Thanks. You're—uh—?”

Touching herself politely, “This is Zeta.”

Armstrong gestured feebly. “Uh—right. Sure. Anytime.” He looked up to notice Reynolds and Cappy grinning at him. Bach and Nakahari were also visibly amused, poking each other and giggling.

Bach called across to Armstrong. “Wow, huh?”

Armstrong sighed. “All right. Knock it off. The jokes are getting old.”

Korie stepped to the center of the bay then; he was listening to something on his headset. He was carrying his helmet under one arm. He held up a hand for their attention and they fell instantly quiet. As soon as the voice in his ear stopped whispering, he spoke aloud. “All right, it's a go. We've scanned the
Burke
. The readings are inconclusive. She could be dead. Maybe not. HARLIE's not sure. What that means—” Korie glanced to Brik. “—is that
it could be a trap
. That ship came out of the Morthan sphere of influence. Trust nothing.”

He turned to Brik, drawing him aside with a nod. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “I was going to ask if I could trust you. But now I see that's the wrong question. What do Morthans use
instead
of trust?”

“Mutual advantage,” Brik replied quietly.

“I see . . .”

“Mr. Korie, you are a better officer than you know. And the captain has more respect for you than he has publicly expressed. It is to our mutual advantage that you should be aware of that.”

Korie looked at Brik surprised, but the subject was closed. He shrugged
and turned to the rest of the boarding team. “All right. Move 'em out.” He locked his helmet on and followed the others into the cramped space of the forward airlock. The doors slid shut behind them.

On the Bridge, Hodel was watching his monitors closely. The
LS-1187
had swung around and was now carefully approaching the rear of the
Burke
. She would join her forward airlock to the
Burke
's tail access dock.

Tor was routinely backchecking Hodel's guidance. As they approached the last go/no-go point, she said, “On the beam.”

“That's how I read it too,” said Hodel.

Hardesty was standing directly behind the both of them. He spoke in a soft ironic rumble. “Be gentle, Mr. Hodel. Be gentle.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Hodel touched his controls. The mass-drivers glowed for an instant; the
LS-1187
slowed. Hodel glanced at the vectors on his console and touched his controls again. And then again. Carefully, he brought the ship up to the tail of the
Burke
, bringing her to a relative stop at the exact same time.

“Got it!” said Hodel, pleased with himself. He straightened in his chair, grinning.

Tor touched her controls. “Extending docking harness.” A faint vibration could be felt through the floor. It came through the soles of their shoes and through the bottoms of their chairs. And then there was a hard
bang
and then a
thump
as the harness connected and clasped.

“I have acquisition.”

“Confirmed.”

The impact was more noticeable in the forward airlock. The men and women of the boarding party were shaken where they stood, but none of them lost their balance. Korie looked across at Brik. Brik's expression was unreadable. The rest of the team stood in relaxed readiness. Some of them were already in a half-crouch, their rifles held high.

Korie listened to his headset. “They're extending the docking tube now—”

The tube moved out from the nose of the
LS-1187
, sliding through the cylindrical framework of the docking harness. It touched the security ring around the
Burke
's access port and locked softly in place. Korie moved to the front of the airlock and tapped the green panel at the base of the control board. The board flashed green. “We have a connect.” He watched while the safety programs cycled through a long series of double-checks. “Power connect, good. Gravity, good. Air pressure, good. The mix is breathable. Uh-oh. Computer's down—no response. HARLIE, do you copy that?”