The Warlock Wandering (31 page)

/ think you're handsome!"

Stroganoff stared at her, totally taken aback. Then he glanced about him quickly, and stood up, sliding her chair back a little. "Uh, would you step into my office over here, for a quick conference?"

Mirane stared at him, surprised. Then her chin lifted, and she stood up and walked in front of hrm, shoulders back, over to the far end of the wardroom. Stroganoff followed her, pantomimed closing a door, and leaned against the bulkhead, hands in his pockets, chatting. Mirane watched him closely.

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Gwen's lips curved a smile that was both fond and amused. Quit eavesdropping. Rod scolded silently. He turned to Yorick. "Well. We seem to be in moderately good shape at the moment."

Yorick grinned, but he swung with the change of topic.

"Yeah. We're bound for Terra, and we didn't have to pay a dime."

"I like that last part," Whitey agreed.

"Unfortunately, word is probably traveling ahead of us," Rod sighed. "I expect PEST will be ready and waiting for us by the time we get there."

"How?" Brother Joey frowned. "Nothing can travel faster than an FTL ship."

"Nothing except a faster ship," Rod reminded him. Brother Joey shook his head. "The time we spend in Hspace isn't really transit time, Mr. Gallowglass..."

"Rod," Rod prompted.

"Rod. Thank you." Brother Joey nodded. "As I was saying, it isn't really transit time, it's more a matter of seeking and translating."

"Well, then, bigger ships search faster than small ones." Brother Joey frowned. "I have to admit that the power input does have an effect..."

"And bigger ships go faster from breakout point to destination," Rod added. "Eaves is sure to have a courier after us as soon as he comes out of the coma."

Brother Joey relaxed. "We have lead enough."

"Yes, (/some other agent wasn't shadowing us, and sending off a report of his own. Ah, for the dear old days of Morse code!" Rod sighed. "The days of yore, when people communicated from ship to shore by radio, which could be jammed."

"Yeah, I remember Morse code." Yorick grinned. "Would you believe I actually learned it once?"

Chomoi nodded. "So did I. Not that we ever used it, but it was part of basic training, anyway."

Rod slouched down in his chair, and started drumming his fingers.

"Courage, people," Whitey reassured them. "I know some people who're working on trying to invent FTL radio." Brother Joey stared. "How do they think they can do that?"

Rod started tapping his toe against Yorick's. The caveman showed every sign of paying close attention to Brother Joey and Whitey.

Whitey shook his head. "Search me. But there's my granddaughter—she's a computer expert—and the kid she married; we traveled together for a while." Think PEST might really know we're coming? Rod tapped out against Yorick's foot.

"They settled down on a big asteroid called 'Maxima,'

where they found a lot of kindred souls who liked tinkering with computers and ignoring PEST."

Rod went rigid. Maxima was his family home.

Not a chance, Yorick tapped back. If there were another agent, he would've tried to kill us.

"So your granddaughter and her husband are trying to put the two together, by inventing FTL radio to use against PEST?" Brother Joey asked.

Whitey nodded. "They figure that's got to be the logical consequence. See, they figure that the main reason the Terran Sphere lapsed into dictatorship is because its territory grew so big that the governing representatives on Terra couldn't keep track of what was going on at home." Then we shouldn't have any trouble getting through their security, should we? Rod tapped. / mean, we are in one of their own ships.

Good point...

"And not knowing about home, meant that they passed laws their constituents didn't like?"

Whitey nodded again. "So their constituents wanted to kick them out of office."

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"Naturally," Brother Joey murmured.

Is there a time machine on Terra? Rod tapped.

'"So the only way to keep power was to take it," Whitey said.

Brother Joey nodded. "Be done with all this nonsense about elections, eh?"

How many times do I have to tell you? Yorick tapped back. // VETO didn't have a time machine in PEST headquarters, they couldn't be giving aid!

"Ah, you know the symptoms. And, of course, they couldn't make the outer planets obey them, if they couldn't get their orders to them in time—so the sensible thing to do was to cut off the frontier."

"Keep only the planets they can rule," Brother Joey sighed. "Well, I'm afraid that does make some sense." Whitey smiled. "So the whole problem boils down to the territory having grown too big for the speed of the communications."

And if VETO hasn't been helping PEST, Yorick tapped, I'm a monkey's uncle!

Thought it was the other way around. Rod tapped back. Awright, Darwin. Just wait, and let's see what you evolve into.

"Wait a minute." Chomoi sat forward."You mean your granddaughter figures that if she can develop faster-thanlight radio, PEST will automatically collapse?"

"Well, not right away, and not all that easily, but that's the gist of it, yes," Whitey confirmed.

Brother Joey sat back, dazzled. "My heavens! What an audacious scheme!"

Whitey cocked his head to the side, watching him. "Kinda makes you want to join them, doesn't it?"

"It does, yes!"

Rod looked up, having caught the last bit of the con-versation. "I expect we could drop you off there, on our way."

Brother Joey gazed off into space. "I do seem to be a better engineer than a missionary..."

"We're going to try to gate-crash Terra," Rod explained.

"We ought to have a fairly good chance, in one of their own scoutships."

Chomoi frowned. "If PEST hasn't been told who's in this ship."

Rod shrugged. "Life is filled with these little uncertainties." Whitey shook his head sadly. " 'Fraid I can't come along, folks. On Terra, I'm a very wanted person."

"So are we," Rod agreed, "but we don't have much choice in the matter."

"But I do, and this time I'm going to play smart and use it," Whitey sighed. "Just let me off at Maxima, will you?" He looked up as Stroganoff and Mirane came up, holding hands and beaming. "How about you two? Want to get off at Maxima?"

Mirane paused halfway down to her seat. "That's where that cadre of engineers and physicists are building robots, isn't it?"

"The very place."

Mirane finished sitting. "I'd like to visit there, yes. I'm going to need to know everything I can about computers."

"Oh?" Whitey perked up. "Just what are you two planning to do?"

"Get married, first," Stroganoff said, with a smile at Mirane that could have seared paint. "Then we're going to make the Grand Tour from pleasure-planet to pleasureplanet."

"Oh?" Whitey lifted an eyebrow. "And what're you planning to use for money?"

"Oh, we're not going to pay for it," Mirane cried, scandalized. "The company will."

"Company? What company?"

"The epic company," Stroganoff explained. "I've banked 248 Christopher Stasheff

enough to start my own corporation, Whitey. We'll make three or four epics on each resort, then move on to the next one. Care to write us some scripts?"

"I just might, depending on what you're planning to do on each planet, besides making epics."

Mirane gazed at Stroganoff. "Well, we thought we'd try every dreamhouse, and have duo-dreams together."

"Just the three of you?"

Stroganoff nodded. "Me, Mirane, and Notem-Modem 409."

"So." Whitey leaned back, grinning. "You figured it out, too, huh?"

Mirane nodded. "PEST has every dreamhouse computer rigged to condition its users to obey authority, which means that, eventually, PEST will be able to rule the outer planets without having to worry about a navy."

"But we only experienced one dream in one computer," Brother Joey objected.

"True, Brother, but if they could do it to one, they've probably done it to all."

"Sure can't hurt to check," Stroganoff explained, "and if we find out PEST has, Mirane and Notem-Modem will reprogram that computer."

"I do wonder what Master Eaves' thoughts will be, when he doth waken," Gwen mused.

"Probably the same," Rod grunted. "I have a notion he linked up with PEST out of pure self-interest." He turned to Chomoi. "How about you? Want to get off at Maxima?" Chomoi was pale as ivory, but she shook her head. "I'd be no safer there than anywhere else, which is to say that I won't be safe anywhere." She shrugged. "Why not try Terra? It's the last place PEST would think to look for me." Rod shook his head. "Sorry I got you into this, folks."

"We're not." Stroganoff smiled as he gazed into Mirane's eyes.

Whitey grinned. "And I'm suddenly looking forward to

seeing Lona and Dar again. Might not have managed it ever, if it hadn't been for you. Talk about a surprise visit!"

"I've had a bit of a surprise, too." Brother Joey was gazing off into space. "I might have muddled along, wasting years without discovering my true vocation, but for this."

"Not cut out to make converts?" Rod sympathized.

"Oh, yes, but of a different sort. And on a much larger scale...."

"All that?"

Chomoi nodded. "A hundred security satellites. Major, in a hundred^lifferent orbits. They're really there—and each one's armed with everything from lasers on up to a small tactical nuke."

"Well, our detectors say so, all right. But why? What're they afraid of?"

"Whatever shows up."

"From outside, or inside? Are those satellites supposed to keep invaders out, or the population in?"

"Yes."

Rod rolled his eyes up in exasperation.

"Wouldn't matter if we could get through the security net," Yorick pointed out. "Where could we land?" Rod frowned at the blue-and-white globe floating in front of him on the viewscreen. "There must be some farmland, here and there—maybe even some parks!"

"The farms are run by robots," Chomoi said,"and every square foot of the parks is covered by a surveillance camera or two."

"Well, back to the original idea," Rod sighed. "Looks like we'll have to bluff it out."

That wasn't too hard, up till the actual landing. Whenever one of the satellites challenged the scoutship^it honestly and truthfully identified itself as an official government craft. It even handled spaceport clearance—being a spy ship, it could bypass Luna, where all commercial ships had 250 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 251

to dock; shuttles took cargo and passengers down to Terra. It was a cumbersome system, but it did give PEST total control over who came to Terra, and who left.

Well, almost total. They really hadn't counted on enemies coming in on one of their own ships, and a spy ship at that. So the satellite net bucked the landing request to an actual human, a division head, and he gave the scoutship clearance to go directly to the spaceport PEST maintained on Terra for official use. It all went perfectly smoothly, even the landing—until they stepped out of the ship.

The little man in the gray tunic with the tan tabard stepped forward with a smile pasted on, holding out a hand—obviously a bureaucrat. "Welcome back. Agent Ea..." He stopped short, staring at the quartet stepping out of the scoutship.

Rod managed a sickly grin. "Uh, hi there." The bureaucrat turned and snapped his fingers at a large man behind him. There were a half-dozen of them, all bulky, all with surly frowns on their faces, all in uniform. The one he'd indicated slipped a small, flat square out of a pocket and pointed it at the Gallowglasses.

The bureaucrat turned back to them, his face totally without expression. "Where is the agent Wirlin Eaves?"

"Uh, afraid he couldn't make it." Rod swallowed. "Bit of a rough trip and all, you know. Vicious criminals on that planet Otranto, not to mention a couple of vampires and a wolfman, and a rampant dreamhouse computer..." The bureaucrat turned to his henchman. "Do you have them? Good. Send for identification." He turned to the rest of the thugs and nodded at Rod. "Arrest them."

"Now, wait a minute!" Rod held up a hand. "You don't know anything about us! We're legitimate agents, all of us—except for my wife, maybe, and I didn't see any problem in bringing her along on a business trip. We just stumbled across this scoutship, and we needed a way to get home, and nobody else was using it, so..." He swallowed.

"Uh, it was really too bad about Eaves, but he just couldn't make it."

The man with the flat square pressed a button into his ear and gazed off into space for a moment, then nodded.

"Confirmed. The crop-haired woman is a renegade agent marked for execution."

"Crop-haired!" Chomoi squalled. "I'll crop your head, you foul-mouthed chauvinist!"

The man ignored her. "The other woman and the talkative man are tied for first place as Public Enemies—and the burly man is a major foe."

Yorick stared. "Why me?"

"I do not know," the bureaucrat snapped, "but my su-periors must have had excellent reasons for so designating you."

"Don't worry about it," Rod assured Yorick, "the excellent reasons just haven't happened yet." The bureaucrat stared at him, at a loss for a moment. But only a moment, then his mouth tightened in contempt, and he snapped his fingers at another flunky, one wearing a portable control console strapped to his waist and shoulders. The man threw a key and thumbed a toggle, and the air around the quartet seemed to thicken. A faint moire of colors, like the refractions on a soap bubble, swam about them in a sphere.

"A force field now surrounds you," the bureaucrat said.

"My superiors have informed me that the four of you are very skilled at evading capture, but there is no method of escaping this globe of force."

Yorick took an experimental kick at the force field. His foot slowed and stopped, all within the space of an inch or three. Chomoi stared, then slammed a chop at the moire, but her hand bounced right back, clipping herin the nose. She howled in anger.