Scattered Suns (49 page)

Chapter 103—DENN PERONI

Returning to Plumas with a cargo load of unusual Ildiran items for trade, Denn detoured past what was left of Hurricane Depot. Both he and Caleb Tamblyn wanted to see what a mess the Big Goose had made of things.

Two Roamer salvage ships were already combing through the wreckage in hopes of retrieving items of value. The salvage pilots—one from clan Hosaki, one from Sandoval—sent their best-guess orbital projections to help the
Dogged Persistence
make its way through the treacherous rubble of what had been a popular Roamer gathering point.

“Damn the Eddies!” Caleb muttered as he saw the blackened scar on one of the tide-locked planetoids. “There won’t be much left to salvage down there.”

Because the scattered clans were still assessing their situation, exchanging information was vital. Denn and Caleb told them about their surreptitious trade on Yreka and with the Ildiran Empire. The salvage pilots replied with news that somehow Jess Tamblyn had made the gas giant Golgen safe for skymining again. On the other hand, numerous clan merchants had been seized, and the Chan greenhouses had been hit. Intercepted media reports were full of lies and exaggerations that made Roamers out to be shiftless cowards.

Denn hunched over his controls. “How can anybody swallow that slag? After so many years of trade with us, even Hansa people should know better.”

The Sandoval pilot wasn’t so surprised. “In a time of war and rationing, folks have no choice but to accept whatever reports come their way. They don’t hear anything else.”

“Bad to worse,” Caleb grumbled. “Next they’re going to claim that clan heads steal babies and drink their blood in sinister ceremonies.”

Denn sighed. “At any other time I’d say you were being ridiculous.” He looked out at the rubble, saw glints of metal that had once been Hurricane Depot. “Any word about all the hostages they took from here? Or Rendezvous, or anyplace else?”

“Not a peep,” said the Hosaki salvage pilot. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they put them into labor camps and called them prisoners of war.”

“Bastards!” Caleb said.

Denn clenched his jaw. On a delivery to Earth’s Moon base last year, his own ship had been impounded on a bureaucratic pretext. He’d been left to cool his heels, trying to work through the red tape. Later, he learned that he’d been detained so that evidence could be planted to frame him for a supposed Roamer assassination plot against the King. But King Peter himself had uncovered the plan and used his own connections to free Denn and send him quietly on his way. Few Roamers trusted the Hansa, but at least Denn could credit something good to the young King.

“Let’s go,” Caleb said. “I’m anxious to get back to Plumas and get back to work. You’ll spend a few days with my brothers before you set off again?”

Denn shrugged. “Most of my regularly scheduled deliveries are canceled, and I’ve got time on my hands. No self-respecting Roamer turns down an offer of hospitality.” From past experience, he knew that Caleb’s brothers would probably talk him into some kind of trouble. But after the atrocities the Earth military had committed, maybe trouble was just what Denn was looking for right now.

“Home sweet home,” Caleb said as they cruised above the wellheads and scattered pumping stations. From the outside, the ice moon didn’t look like much.

“If you say so.” Denn brought the
Persistence
in next to a primary refilling station. “That’s why I like having my own ship—I’m always at home wherever I fly...though with the Eddies everywhere, I can’t go on my normal routes.”

Caleb studied him as the two men prepared to disembark. “I don’t like somebody telling me that I can’t go where I want. Let’s have an all-out bitch session with my brothers. That’ll make you feel better. Besides, they keep plenty of good stuff to drink, brewed with the purest primordial water.”

Denn frowned at the salty old man. “You think that’ll help us see the Guiding Star more clearly?”

Caleb laughed. “I guarantee it—you’ll start seeing double stars.”

Denn sat in warm clothing beneath a frozen-solid sky. The underground ocean rippled like gray oil, and dim white artificial suns shone down, casting sharp shadows.

The Tamblyn brothers told the astounding tale of Jess’s return and how he had moved through solid ice to retrieve his mother’s body, which remained on the frozen shelf, still encased in ice. Denn’s ears pricked up when he learned that Jess had rushed off to rescue Cesca from some disaster on Jonah 12, but the brothers couldn’t give many details. “He didn’t explain a whole lot—just raced out of here. Said he was going to get her.”

“I’m glad he was in a hurry.” It was the first news he’d heard of his daughter since the destruction of Rendezvous, and it hurt to hear she might be in danger. With his incredible powers, Jess was probably the best person to go after Cesca. And Denn certainly knew of the young man’s love for her...

He stared down at the glass in his hand. The Tamblyn brothers started with Plumas water, then added special ingredients to distill their own alcohol, augmented with flavors reminiscent of either whiskey or gin. Denn didn’t think the stuff was particularly good, but he was a guest. Here, safe, there was no harm in getting sociably drunk with Caleb, Andrew, Wynn, and Torin. After all, they had to solve the problems of the universe.

After Denn and Caleb described what they had seen in the ruins of Hurricane Depot, all of them speculated on what had happened to the Roamer prisoners taken from there. “Does the Big Goose just think we’ll cower in our boots and surrender?” Torin said, refilling his glass. He spat onto the ice, and his saliva crackled as it froze in the deep cold.

“I don’t think the Chairman knows what he stepped in.” Caleb worked his jaw as if he intended to spit as well, but decided not to follow the example of his younger brother. “He shouldn’t mess with Roamers!”

“The clans will survive,” Andrew said quietly. “You’ve already made a start with Yreka. There’ll be plenty of outlying colonies all too happy to trade with us under the table.”

Denn took another long drink of the burning alcohol. “The Big Goose shat on them as well—they’re more like us than people from Earth. But it’s dangerous. The Eddies will crack down on anybody they catch.”

“I say we don’t stand for it anymore!”

Wynn spat a mouthful of saliva, nailing precisely the same spot that his twin had hit. “Rand Sorengaard had the right idea after all. We should have followed him instead of trying to work through civilized channels.”

“Civilized? That’s a joke. Those Eddy raiders are worse than Rand ever was. And they called
him
a pirate! Ha!”

Denn’s shoulders sagged. “General Lanyan had a lot of nerve executing Rand in the name of 'peace throughout the Hansa'—if he was going to use the same tactics himself.”

“I say Rand Sorengaard was a revolutionary.” Torin swayed slightly in his seat. “A visionary, not a pirate. He saw things the rest of us weren’t willing to accept.”

“A man ahead of his time! We should remember him as a freedom fighter, an independence leader fighting against the oppressive Big shizzy Goose.”

Though the temperature around them remained frigid, Denn felt pleasantly warm. He thought he’d finished his drink, but his glass was somehow full again. “After Rendezvous, my Cesca told the Roamers to scatter and hide. But maybe we should take it a step further than that, follow Sorengaard’s example and be freedom fighters ourselves.”

The twins looked at him. Caleb and Andrew seemed slower to realize what he was suggesting, but Denn kept talking about his idea. When he found his words becoming slurred, he raised his voice to compensate. “We’ve got ships. We’ve got stealth and speed. And we know what the Eddies did to Hurricane Depot, to Raven Kamarov’s ship—”

Caleb raised his glass. “Here’s to Raven Kamarov.” They all drank a toast.

Denn took a few moments to gather his thoughts again, then remembered what he had been saying. “How ’bout if we all go out and rouse some rabble on our own? Take back a few things to make up for all the damage the Big Goose has done to us.”

The Tamblyn brothers began to chuckle, and their eyes lit up. “Would be a good chance for payback.”

“Seems like a plan to me. First we’re outlaws. Now we’re going to be pirates. Sounds more respectable.”

Denn was grinning. “Let’s figure out how to get started.” He looked down and saw that his glass was unaccountably empty, but the Tamblyn brothers were happy to refill it.

Their plans didn’t make a great deal of sense, but what they lacked in logic, the five men made up for with boisterous enthusiasm.

Chapter 104—RLINDA KETT

The
Voracious Curiosity
raced away for hours, one step ahead of any EDF ships. Rlinda wandered along a drunkard’s path that she hoped would shake pursuit. Considering all the current emergencies in the Hansa, she doubted the military would waste much effort on such a small fish, especially if they thought BeBob was already dead.

Then again, it was General Lanyan.

“Life with you is never boring, Rlinda,” BeBob said, still miserable. “I hope you’re not doing this to impress me.”

She tried to find the strength to tease him. “You’ve got a lot to pay me back for, BeBob—and don’t you think I won’t collect it.”

“I shall do my best, ma’am.” His breath hitched briefly. “And thanks...for everything.”

The
Curiosity
eventually arrived in a backwater system that the old Ildiran starcharts named Plumas, where they thought they might be safe for a while. “We’ve got to give our engines a chance to rest, perform a few minor repairs, and take an inventory of everything we dumped out the cargo hold. I’m fairly sure I had three cases of New Portugal wine in there, as well as ten kilos of the best black chocolate you’ll ever taste. Damn! All together, that was probably more valuable than your ship.”

“Not to me, Rlinda. My ship...”

“And Davlin.” The spy had always been silent and cool, and not someone who would have been willing to sacrifice his life for them.

Of course he wouldn’t.

Therefore, it was likely that he had not done what she thought. Which was exactly how Davlin would have planned it...

“You know, I’m thinking Davlin might have gotten away.”

BeBob looked at her in disbelief. “We saw my whole ship turn into a fireball.”

“Those pyrotechnics were obviously intentional—part of his plan—and I very much doubt that any plan of Davlin’s would require his own death.” She shrugged. “Just a thought, that’s all.” Rlinda heaved herself out of her expansive pilot’s chair. “Come on, we’ll only get depressed if we keep talking like this. Let’s at least get depressed in the engine compartment, where we can do something useful.”

While the fuel cells recharged and the two fugitives ran a careful analysis of any damage the Remoras had done, the hours passed in blissful, if still tense, tedium. This was just what she’d wanted—plenty of time alone with BeBob...but she hadn’t expected it would be so hard to arrange. They were two kisses into deciding what to do next when the
Curiosity
’s automatic proximity alarms began to sound.

“Now what?” She and BeBob raced to the cockpit, pulling their clothes back into place. Throwing herself into her seat, Rlinda spotted EDF Remoras streaking toward them, launched from the bay of a Manta cruiser that had followed them into the system. “They’re more persistent than the damned hydrogues.”

“How the hell did these guys find us in the hind end of space?” BeBob slid into the seat at his station. “Rlinda, how long was the
Curiosity
parked at the Moon base?”

“A couple of days. Why?”

She powered up the engines again and accelerated with a lurch. The Plumas system had only a few planets: a gas giant with a handful of moons, and a couple of blistered rocky planets close in toward the sun. Not many places to hide.

Scowling, BeBob played with the controls and ran a full system analysis, then took out a handheld power-source detector and adjusted its range to detect specific signaling frequencies. “I’ve got a ping! Those EDF bastards put a locator beacon aboard your craft.”

“On
my
ship?” Rlinda cursed with all the enthusiasm she could muster while still flying evasive maneuvers. She scanned ahead and pulled up a detailed projection of all objects in the system. “I’m heading toward that gas giant and its moons. It’s the closest thing to an obstacle course out here, and we’re not in any shape to outrun those fast fighter craft. My ship is still bruised.”

They soared across the emptiness with the pack of glistening Remoras hot behind them. BeBob trotted along the decks until finally the handheld detector zeroed in on a tiny self-powered tracer affixed with a magnet behind one of the ventilation plates. Grumbling, he removed it, strode toward the ejection chute, and happily dumped the telltale signaler out into space.

But it was already much too late. The Remoras were close behind them and eating up the remaining distance every second.

By the time he returned to the cockpit, Rlinda was already weaving through the outer orbits of the Plumas moons. She looked at him, her face serious. “How badly do you want to get away, BeBob?”

She saw him gulp as he gave the question due consideration. “They’ve already made up their minds to convict me, and our recent behavior sure isn’t going to earn me any clemency. Execution sounds like a more and more likely sentence. So...yeah, I’d like to get away pretty badly.”

“That’s all I wanted to know.” Rlinda drew a deep breath. “Let’s just hope the
Curiosity
can hold herself together.”

She dumped a supercharged flush of ekti into the reactors, and the ship blasted forward with an added boost that slammed them both back against their chairs. The
Curiosity
shot like a cannonball straight toward the looming gas giant.

“I said I wanted to get away, Rlinda,” BeBob said in a strangled voice, “not commit suicide.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing—at least I don’t think so. With that tracer gone, we have the chance to play hide-and-seek. But we’re going to have to do a damn good job of it. Those Remora pilots aren’t idiots.” She rehearsed her words, then transmitted to the pursuers, “Gentlemen, after seeing what sort of treatment the EDF gives its prisoners, we have no intention of being captured by you. We’d rather just burn up right here.”

The
Curiosity
plunged straight into the thickening clouds. The Remoras came after them, but slowed their pursuit. No doubt they were double-checking orders from the Manta’s commander.

As soon as her ship went deep enough to be invisible from scans, Rlinda altered course sharply. The ship began a tight, low orbit in the thick clouds, scribing a line across the gas giant’s equator. The
Curiosity
started shaking and rattling. The outer hull heated up, but Rlinda did not slow.

“
This
is your plan?” BeBob’s voice cracked with alarm.

“We went straight in like a bullet going sideways through a fat man’s belly.” She concentrated on her flying. “I’m hoping they’ll assume we burned up in the atmosphere...not to mention the fact that they’re probably spooked about hydrogues coming after us in here.”

BeBob’s eyes remained wide. “
I’m
worried about that, too, Rlinda.”

“Hey, at this point, they could qualify as the cavalry. From a certain point of view.”

“If that’s the best we can hope for, then we’re really, truly screwed.”

Rlinda’s teeth rattled from the outrageous turbulence. Sparks flew from a few nonessential systems. No doubt if the Remora pursuers took time to scan all the atmospheric layers, they would spot her ion trail as she screamed through the vapors. But by that time, she hoped her ship would have gotten away on the other side of the bloated world.

One of her stabilizing engines blew out, and the
Curiosity
began to lurch and tumble, but Rlinda’s fingers flew, reasserting control. With brute force she plowed ahead with her beloved cargo ship, like an icebreaker through rough arctic seas. A few strong welding joints and persistent rivets barely kept all the components in place.

After they crossed the atmospheric layers of the bloated planet, the ship popped out of the far side like the cork from a champagne bottle.

Not willing to give up yet, Rlinda shut down their systems and let the battered
Curiosity
cruise along on its own momentum. All of her gauges and regulator systems displayed danger zones or red lines; some had shorted out entirely, so she had no way of knowing how bad the damage was.

“Well, we’re intact. I’ll say that at least,” BeBob commented. The two embraced each other in a spontaneous bear hug.

Even if the EDF decided to follow them and someone was clever enough to determine her plan, they were still hours ahead of any possible pursuit that skirted the gas giant. If Rlinda could find a place to hide, cut their energy signatures, they’d be able to play possum and remain undetected. As the battered
Curiosity
limped along, Rlinda scanned the handful of moons, in particular noticing a large ice-crusted rock.

From out of nowhere, two strange ships swooped in. Rlinda didn’t recognize the configuration of either one. One of the mysterious craft fired a warning blast across her bow; the other took a potshot at their engines, causing more damage.

“Hey, watch it!” Rlinda shouted into the comm system. “We’ve had enough trouble already today.”

“Prepare to be boarded,” said one of the ships. “It’s payback time, and you’re facing the meanest group of Roamer space pirates in the Spiral Arm.”

Rlinda groaned, remembering Rand Sorengaard. “We’ve already been through that, too.”

The pilots of the two craft transmitted their images: middle-aged men dressed in extravagant Roamer costumes, fully embroidered with clan markings. The better dressed of the two said, “You are our prisoners.”