Vyyda Book 1: The Haver Problem (18 page)

“Wait,” Witt called out.  He hurried from the promenade, down the steps and across the landing platform.  Upon seeing the dainty, he frowned.  “That’s not necessary.  Not really.”

“I don’t have time to waste,” Caroline said.

“You have a moment.  A single moment.  Everyone has at least that.”

“Are you trying to interfere?” Caroline asked, increasingly frustrated.

“I’d just like to talk to my man.  Briefly.”

Caroline nodded.

“Tomas,” Dorsey said, “are you and Sklar…what the hell?”

“Listen to me -- ”

“Do
you
know who this is?” Dorsey asked with a jerk of his head toward Caroline.

“Listen!”

Dorsey’s mouth hung slightly open.  He’d never heard such an edge in Witt’s voice.

“Your talent is wasted here.  Do you understand me?”

“Tomas…why -- ”

“There’s value in doing good…without the promise of reward.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go along now.  I’ll see you when you’re done.”

As Tomas backed away, he placed one hand over his heart and nodded with a reassuring smile.

“We need to go,” Caroline said, taking Dorsey’s elbow, the Hoilman-dainty back at his ribs.

“Tomas,” Dorsey called out, “did you run my bill at Flood’s over limit?”

Tomas half-shrugged.  “There’s a story in that.  Worth waiting for.”

              The unmarked vessel (a Selphen R67) sitting on the Sykes landing platform opened as Caroline and Dorsey approached.  She gestured for him to climb inside.

             
Dorsey hesitated.

             
“Maybe I won’t,” he said.

             
“Didn’t I make myself clear earlier?”

             
“You should have to kill me here.  Where people can see it.”

             
“What?”

             
“If Dirty Water sent you all this way…they’re serious and I’m not going to live through it anyway.”

             
“Are you -- ”

             
“So why should I climb inside and let you do it privately?  Think I’d rather die in --”

             
Caroline had had enough.  She tucked her weapon away in a swift move and took Dorsey in hand, forcing him into the Selphen so quickly that he hadn’t a prayer of preventing it. 

The interior of the Selphen was even more striking
to Dorsey than the outside.  The transport that had brought him to Sykes two years earlier was more typical of U-Space travel:  passenger seats hard, crammed together, heating and cooling mechanisms so poorly engineered that they sprung from one bulkhead, snaked along the interior wall and then disappeared into another.  There had been low ceilings and a smell that leaned decisively toward the unpleasant.

             
This vessel appeared almost new, a passenger compartment that could have served as living quarters for Dorsey and been an improvement over his rooms on Sykes.  Spacious seating for five, monitors, a dining nook and perhaps a dozen other intriguing looking features that he couldn’t immediately identify.

             
“Get us ready, hmm?” Caroline called to the forward section of the ship, taking Dorsey’s elbow and urging him forward, to a seat just behind the cockpit.

             
“Listen:  If you’re going to do something, do it quickly will you?” Dorsey said to her as he laid eyes on Stovall who sat at the controls.  The sheer size of Caroline’s companion caused an even greater sense of doom.

             
“My colleague, Zachary Stovall,” Caroline said by way of an introduction as she noticed Dorsey’s uneasiness.  Then, to Stovall, trying to stay upbeat:  “This is Professor Dorsey Jefferson.  He replaced Ladd Bankenshoff…who is no longer among the living.”

             
Stovall pulled Caroline close.

             
“Don’t tell him my name!” he whispered.

             
“Establishing trust.  It works both ways,” she said.  Caroline was playing it one step at a time.  Cyril Redd and his closest advisors had sent her and Stovall for Bankenshoff specifically.  Perhaps she should have left empty-handed, but risk-taking struck her as the only way to turn recent negative events into a win for her career.  Gambling that Dorsey Jefferson would be more valuable than nothing, Caroline would push ahead.

             
“I have reason to expect that my threshold for pain is low…so I will talk if you start torturing me.  But it won’t be worth anything.  I have
no
information.  Understand?  I used all the currency to make my way here and I…”

             
Dorsey trailed off as Stovall indicated to Caroline that they were ready to depart.  Within seconds, the vessel was pulling free of Sykes.

“Wait a minute!” Dorsey yelled, coming out of his seat.

“Shut up,” Caroline said, as politely as anyone had ever directed it at Dorsey.

At the mercy of his “hosts”, Dorsey tensed.  No longer enjoying the protective

shell of Sykes, he held only faint hope that his end was not imminent.

             
Caroline turned her seat to face Dorsey.  “Would you now listen – not talk – while I show you what I have?”

             
“What you
have
?”

             
“I told you back there that I had something I needed to show you.  Do you have memory issues to go along with your paranoia?”

             
“You weren’t blanding me on that?”

             
“I don’t -- ” she looked at Stovall who was equally confused.  “What does that mean?”

             
“Blanding?”

             
“Yes.”

             
Who the hell didn’t know what blanding meant?

             
“Don’t you…”  Dorsey had a sudden realization.  He looked back and forth at Caroline and Stovall.  The unusual nature of the ship.  The odd little weapon that she claimed possessed such capabilities.  The way that she could breeze in and out, taking him along with no struggle or mess.  “Oh shit.  Ladd Bankenshoff.  You wanted to see Ladd Bankenshoff, didn’t you?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“And you didn’t know he was dead?”

             
“Right.”

             
“Oh shit.”  It all made sense.  “You’re nothing to do with Dirty Water.  You’re HSPB.”

             
“We are.”

             
“Shit.”

             
“Now that we have that out of the way, will you -- ”

             
“Do you have any idea what your reputation is out here?”

             
“I think I have some idea.”

             
Dorsey shook his head.  “No.  I’m sure you don’t.” He leaned back in his seat, determined to end all communication at that point. 

             
“Would it help if I told you that we plan to compensate you generously for your assistance?”

             
“You don’t have anything I want.”

             
“Is that so?  Have you ever been to Luna?”

             
“Luna?” Dorsey repeated in a tone that betrayed his interest.

             
“Ladd Bankenshoff spent time on Luna.  He looked down on the face of Earth.  Ladd Bankenshoff had that opportunity because he helped us when we were in need.”

             
She only felt a little bad about lying to Dorsey.  The Bureau would never let any U-Spacer cross the line into C-Space, let alone set foot on Luna.  Besides, he was the one who had chosen to be obstinate from the word go and she’d use any means at her disposal.  This was important, after all.

             
Caroline triggered a large screen in front of Dorsey, bringing up a communiqué received by the HSPB which had triggered the lockdown.

             
“What can you tell me about that?”

             
Dorsey began scanning the lines:

Eleven citizens of Earth we have that are now on Haver and in control.  You will cover the parents of my prisoners to be prepared to arrange for travels to Haver for negotiation.  To fail in it will result in fountains.  Five days until you can run out of the times to agree on this and act correctly.  We know more of you than you can know of us.  We are no to be underestimated.

              A list of eleven names followed the message.  After running through them, Dorsey sat silently for a moment, confused.

             
“I don’t understand,” he finally said, continuing to stare at the monitor.

             
“You’re a language expert and you can’t read English?”

             
“I read it.  I just don’t understand why there are Earthers on Haver.  Is this true?”

             
“We don’t understand it either.”

             
“I thought Earthers didn’t cross the boundary.”

             
“As a very strict rule, they don’t,” Caroline said, gesturing back at the monitor.

             
“Haver is well past the boundary, you know.”

             
“We know where it is.  What we need is for you to tell us if you see anything in the message that suggests who may have written it.”

             
“Do you know about Haver?  Do you know what it…is?”

             
“We have an idea.  A good idea of what it is.”

             
“I’m not sure you do…”

             
“Please.”

             
“I’m still trying to picture Earthers on Haver,” Dorsey said. “They went there…on their own?”

             
“There’s a lot we don’t know right now,” Caroline explained.

             
“It’s an unexpected surprise,” Stovall chimed in from his seat.

             
Dorsey smirked.  “Is that right?  You’re better at handling expected surprises?”

             
“People’s lives are at stake,” Stovall said.  “Can you appreciate that?”

             
“Earther’s lives?”

             
Caroline motioned for Stovall to remain calm.  She turned her attention to Dorsey once more.  No way of knowing whether this substitute for Ladd Bankenshoff could be of use.  He definitely wasn’t going to make it easy on them.  Diplomacy was still the best bet, in her estimation.

             
“Do you…” Caroline cleared her throat, “…do you see anything in the message…can you tell who may have written it?

             
“You want me to tell you who wrote this?” Dorsey asked, incredulously.  “A name?”

             
“Anything about who it might be.  Anything at all.”

             
“Well, your writer is a native speaker of Salginian,” he said.

             
“What?” Caroline asked.

             
“Salginian.  They’re people who -- ”

             
“I know about Salginians,” she said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

             
“This is really happening?” Dorsey asked, breaking the silence.  “Somebody is really holding Earthers on Haver?  It seems unlikely that --”

             
“No.  We don’t know.  We have reason to believe that there might be…”  Caroline rubbed her temple with the knuckles of her left hand.  Stovall looked at her.  Before he could say anything, Caroline came up from her seat, moved alongside Dorsey and looked at the monitor he’d been reading as if she had missed something.  “Salginian?  Really?”

             
“That’s right,” Dorsey said.

             
“There are no more Salginians.”

             
“I wouldn’t say that.  Not
definitely
.”

             
“They’re dead.  All of them,” she countered.

             
“I’m simply saying that a native speaker of Salginian wrote the message.”

             
“And you think Salginians are running Haver?”

             
“Of course not.  No one runs Haver for very long.  Ownership…stewardship, whatever, can change weekly.”