Wings of Retribution (25 page)

“So you believe the shifters?” Bushin whispered.

Tommy stiffened and stood up.  He hit the OFF key on the infoscreen, wiping the data from the display.  “You are well outside your clearance, corporal, and it’s technically my job to report you.  Let it drop.  We’re digging into things we have no right knowing.”

“But…”

“Governor Black wants to let a
suzait
run free on his planet, he’s more than welcome,” Tommy said, picking up his coffee canteen off the planning desk.  “I hope the little bastard breeds himself a whole new colony.  Send me a message when we’ve received authorization to proceed to Millennium.  I’ll be in my room.”

Tommy left Corporal Bushin in the control room and moved through the passageways, trying not to think of the shifters.  They were playing mind games with him.  Hell, they’d probably hacked into the secured system and installed all those entries on the pirate.  It obviously wasn’t very difficult, if Bushin could do it.

Tommy went to his room and locked the door behind him.  It was the one room in the entire ship that no one else could access once it was locked.  Even the command room had a list of users that could override a lock, including his copilot and navigator. 

Not this one, however.  Tommy often thought fondly of the fact that, if he were to die in his sleep, the crew would have to wait for a manual override from a dedicated Space Corps dock in order to get his corpse into his casket.  It was somehow comforting.  The one place he could truly relax.

Tommy entered his sanctuary and collapsed on his bed.  On the end table in one corner, a pleasant miniature waterfall cascaded into a bed of rocks, filling the room with the sound of bubbling water.  He had an aquarium set up in one corner, though his last fish had died of old age and he hadn’t gotten around to restocking it.  He had a wall library near the door, filled with mythological stories of Old Earth.  That had been an enchanting time.  No universal government—imagine!—the first fumbling forays into space, projectile weapons, death, poverty, illness, heroes, natural scenery…

So long ago that no one even knew where the original planet that had cultured humanity really was.  Or if it had even survived.  There were whispers it had been destroyed, and that was why the first colonists on Millennium had been completely without support.

Tommy sighed and glanced up at the ceiling.  To have lived in those exciting times…

Instead, he had to wade through miles of accumulated Utopian bureaucracy just to go to the bathroom.

Hands under his head, he thought again about retirement.  He’d earned it.  With thirty-six
suzait
and a hundred and sixteen shifter deaths or captures to his name, he’d certainly done his duty for the Utopia.

He studied the picture painted across the ceiling above him.  It was a beautiful rendition of the landscape of Penoi.  Blue water, blue sky, snowcapped peaks, verdant forests…  He found himself once again longing for a time when the whole of human civilization could be contained between two mountain slopes on a lush river valley, when man was pitted against nature in a struggle for survival, and only his own innate abilities kept him and his family from vanishing under the jungle.  Maybe he could take his savings and go found a colony somewhere, at the outermost edge of one of the quadrants…

Tommy must have fallen asleep, because he was jolted awake at the sound of Bushin’s voice on the intercom.

Colonel, we have a problem.  The governor is denying our right to embark.

Tommy sat up, frowning.  The lights were flickering.  He fumbled for the handset and sent, “What does the governor have to do with this?  We just need authorization from the Docking Administration.”

The governor wants to search our ship.  He says that we may be harboring dangerous alien species. 

Tommy scowled.  “Tell him our ship is our business.  We’re chartered by the Utopian Species Operations, for Christ’s sake!  It’s our
job
.”

He’s ordered docking clamps to remain in place until he’s had a chance to look at our cargo.  Said he has received information that must be verified.

“That greedy bastard!” Tommy shouted, lunging out of bed.  “Tell him the
suzait
is on his
planet
, not on my ship!”

He’s not looking for suzait.  He’s looking for shifters.

Tommy froze.  Who had told the governor about the shifters?

Colonel?

“Stay there.  I’ll be out in a minute.”  Tommy got up, straightened his uniform, and punched the UNLOCK command on his door.  He strode outside and headed for the command deck, furious with himself for involving a civilian.  If he hadn’t mentioned the
suzait,
the governor wouldn’t have had reason to look deeper. 
Renee Becket
would have been just another number on a list of Utopian ships seeking permission to embark.

When Tommy got to the control deck, the room was buzzing with activity.  His security chief was there, as was his copilot and engineer.

“Colonel, this isn’t good,” his engineer said, without prelude.  “They’ve reversed the flow on the recharge lines.  They’re sucking us dry.”

“So that’s why the lights are flickering,” Tommy growled.  He nodded to his security officer.  “Ming, go cut them off with the supplemental laser portside.”

His engineer balked.  “We do that and we can’t recharge at another dock until we’ve returned to harbor for repairs.”

“If you wait much longer, we won’t be going anywhere.”

His security officer sat down at the weapons console and brought up an image of the two recharge lines that ran into the dock.  She centered on one and squeezed the trigger.  The
Renee Becket
shuddered and the line snapped, sparking with uncontained energy.

Immediately, the com screen lit up.  Tommy took the call.

Renee Beckett,
you have fired a weapon while docked at a government facility.  Terra-9 Docking Authority fines you eight hundred credits for—

Tommy shut the screen off.  “Get the other one.”

His security officer obliged.  The lights stopped flickering and the com screen lit up again.  Tommy ignored it.  “Can you reach the docking clamps?”

Everyone watched in mute silence as his security chief swiveled the supplemental laser to the left.

“Negative,” she finally said.  “I’d have to shoot a hole in the ship.”

“Try the main weapons array, then.”

His security officer gave him an uneasy look, but followed orders.  “Same here,” she said finally.  “The array wasn’t made to fire on something with such proximity to the ship.”

“Damn.  What about tearing ourselves loose?”

“We’d tear off our airlock first,” the engineer said.

Tommy scowled at the monitor.  “We’re not letting them on this ship.  Send for help from any Utopian ships within com range.”

“Already tried it.  Only ones within range are already docked.  Docking Authority’s got them pinned, too.”

“Message from Governor Black, sir.”  Corporal Bushin offered him the com handheld.

Tommy took it with a grunt.  He depressed the SEND button and bowled over the greeting the Governor extended.  “You goddamned rebel bastard.  The Utopia’s gonna install martial law on this little shithole planet.  They’re gonna sweep the whole damn place clean.  When they’re finished rooting out your bars and whorehouses, they’ll have the whole Internal Investigations section here examining your ass with a microscope.  If they find anything, and they will, you’re gonna spend the next hundred years bending over for a miner on Erriat.  If you’re not gonna release the clamps, then I suggest you invest in a few more crates of petroleum jelly to take with you.” 

The com was silent for minutes.

“Think he heard you?” his copilot snickered.

When the governor spoke, his voice was chilly. 
We received reports that you are carrying alien life-forms outlawed by the Utopia.  Until you prove that you are not, we are obligated to search your ship and turn over any banned organisms to Utopian authorities.

“This is a goddamn
Species Operations
ship!  We
are
the authorities, you incompetent moron.”

So you admit you are transporting outlawed alien species across system borders.

Tommy stared at the transmitter in his hand, fighting the urge to throw it across the room.  As calmly as he could, he said, “If you think you’ll somehow be able to claim the reward because you took them from government personnel, you are about as intelligent as the people who put you into office.”

I’m sorry, Colonel, but until you deliver the aliens to our care, we cannot allow you to leave.
 

“We’ve already logged their identifiers into the government net,” Tommy snarled.  “They’re worthless to you now.

The com went dead.

Tommy put the transmitter down carefully.  “Keep sending out that distress signal.  They’ll likely try to scramble it, so switch frequencies.  Make sure everybody who passes near this damn place knows what’s going on.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch a gunship.”

Seems you were right.  Colonel Howell is hiding something.

Athenais leaned back, grinning.  “Refusing an inspection, is he?”

He was very disagreeable.  It’s been most unpleasant.

“
You didn’t expect it to be a walk in the park for twelve mil, did you?”

I asked you not to mention it over open com.

“Who cares?  This is T-9.  You do business with pirates all the time.”

Still, they might be recording this.

“Let them.  When they come to arrest you, you can take your twelve mil and find some nice, tropical planet to live out the rest of your life on.  Hell, I’ll even take you there.”

You are positive there are three shifters aboard that ship?

“Positive.”

I’m sorry if I’m confused, Captain, but aren’t they only worth three mil a head?

“
The extra three mil is a bonus to you, for all the extra unpleasantness Colonel Howlen gives you.”

And when will I be seeing the other five mil?

“As soon as the shifters are safely on my ship and we’re long gone.  I’ll have a friend wire you the rest.”

What’s the name of your friend?  How can I be sure I’ll be paid?