Chalker, Jack L. – Well of Souls 06

“Yes.”

He took another drag on the pipe, sensing that the smoke irritated her. “I thought you were some kind of priestess or something. I didn’t think your type fought battles. They just exhorted the gods and spirits to stir up other folks to go off and fight holy wars.”

The insult had the opposite effect of what he’d intended. She seemed more amused than upset by it.

“It is true that I could not harm a living thing by direct action,” she agreed, “but if there is a threat to life or the safety of others or my well-being, I am capable of doing whatever is necessary. I say what I say because you fit into one of three categories. You may be ignorant of what will happen, in which case the other side will have you marked for death. You may be on their side, in which case you will trigger my defenses. Or you might be a potential ally, in which case the situation is the same as the first—you are marked for death by the others.”

“And your object in saying this to me?”

“I want to know which category you are in. Since you neither seem surprised or alarmed by my description, I as­sume that you at least know what is building.”

“I have an idea of it, but I don’t think I’m in any of those categories. I am traveling on my own business, and I am known to some on what you call ‘the other side.’ I’m not involved in their business, but I suspect I can sidestep things and get where I want to go one way or another.”

Without warning, the Geldorian lunged at her with a movement so fast that it was unthinkable. It was, therefore, a totally bewildered Tann Nakitt who missed Angel’s arm and other parts entirely and went tumbling onto the floor. Even so, he was up in a flash, eyes blazing. But he suddenly froze. She was standing about a meter in front of him, holding his pipe.

“Filthy thing,” she commented. “Do all your people smoke these?”

He lunged again, this time making every allowance for her possible response. Only she wasn’t where she had to be; she was a step or two over. Again he fell on his face and rebounded, only this time he was breathing hard and felt a sore jaw. That—thing—had caused him to bite himself!

“This is impossible,” he said, putting a small hand to his jaw and trying to massage it. “No one moves that fast. How long did you spend on Geldor to know us so well?”

“You are the first Geldorian I have ever seen or met,” she told him. She tossed the pipe in the air in his general direc­tion. Alarmed, he lunged for it, catching it just before it could hit the deck and perhaps break.

“What do you want from me?” he asked her sullenly.

“I cannot permit you to stand aside if needed. You might well join in, and certainly I am no match for several people acting at once. The choice to kill in self-defense would be automatic. Is that a narcotic in there?”

Tann Nakitt had been around and seen and interacted with many strange creatures, but this seemingly ordinary Terran female was the strangest person of any kind he could recall ever meeting. “What’s the difference what I told you?” he asked her seriously. “You would have no way of knowing if I was truthful or lied.”

“You must believe me when I say that I would know. Shall we both sit and relax? Or does that jaw need medical attention?”

“I’ll be all right,” he grumbled, getting back up onto the ottoman. She took a padded chair near him. “You are a telepath then? Is that how you do it?”

She laughed. “If I could read minds I wouldn’t have to ask questions, would I? Let us just talk some more. You would not understand how I did that, or would know truth from lie, if I were willing to tell you, and I assure you I am not. Let’s just talk. I am not in government or law enforcement, and whatever we say here is between us two alone. Even your venom could not get me to betray a private confidence.”

He thought a moment, trying to decide which way to jump on the matter, then looked around, saw nobody lounging around or eavesdropping, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “All right. Yes, this is a narcotic, but only to my kind. It is a blend of chemically treated plants that not only produce a general feeling of contentment and well-being, but also heighten concentration and the potency of my venoms. By varying the formula, I can make the venom work as I wish on other races as I could on my native world. After all, we’ve had a long time to experiment and test. This, as you probably guessed, would put any of your kind in a trance inside of thirty seconds. Of course, it would simply render other races unconscious or perhaps kill them, unless I alter the blend and give it time to displace the old formula in my body. The threats here are basically Terran in nature; the Rithians are in on it, but this bunch are fixers—they don’t have the nerve to do their own fighting.”

“Fixers?”

“Arrangers of things, mostly illegal, but they’re not above stooping to legitimate stuff, too, if it pays. You want a work of art? They’ll try and buy it, and, if that fails, they’ll find somebody to steal it. Want to buy a destroyer? They’ll get one for a price. Middlemen. They make a ton of money doing that kind of thing.”

“I see. And this is one side of the negotiation, in this area? The other side of the transaction is in the water breather sections?”

“You do understand it. Yes. Sometime tomorrow we were supposed to glide to a stop, going under minimum power requirements and thus ejecting back into normal space. This would cause a distress beam, but in the region where we’d come out there’s nothing much unless you expect us to be there. The Ha’jiz family meets the rescuers, gets what it wants, tells the newcomers where to find whatever they are paying for in the modules ahead, and that’s it. Then the Rithians give whatever they get from the so-called rescue ship to King Wallinchky, and they all get into lifeboats with preprogrammed navigation modules, leaving us here, and that’s that. The odds are they’ll blow us up as they leave.”

” ‘King’ Wallinchky? What’s he the ruler of?”

“It is a nickname. The kind you get when you’re about as high up in the rackets as you can get. It’s a sign of real respect, and, in a sense, an acknowledgment of how much power he has over even life and death.”

She did not understand it, that people would commit this kind of murder and worse for mere possessions. She doubted that she would ever understand it. Still, she understood the mechanics and the implications.

“And he’s not afraid that this phony rescue ship won’t simply blow all of us up once it gets what it wants?”

“Not even this gang would double-cross on that scale. Nobody would ever deal with them again. It may sound odd, but the most important thing when you reach the upper levels of criminal activity is honor. Betray that, and you are worse than dead and unable to ever use the illegal under­ground. That makes you vulnerable, and ultimately visible, to the Realm. No, Madam Kobe, that’s not smart, and these people are smart. Besides, there’s a limited market for the Jewels of the Pleiades. You can’t ever wear them or display them. They are for an incredibly wealthy private collector who wants them all to himself. The Kharkovs are here only to clean and possibly reset some, which indicates a bit of damage. After all, the jewels were last seen in the midst of an explosion that essentially vaporized an entire city. You don’t cut these kind of gems.”

She had never heard of these legendary jewels, but he obviously thought everybody had. “And Wallinchky is the collector? What does he have to pay in return?”

“I’m not sure. A weapon of some sort. A top secret one. One the Realm probably doesn’t even know is gone.”

“The Rithians are that good, huh? So how did these Jewels of the Pleiades get into the hands of the buyers of this weapon? Do you know?”

The Geldorian gave a soft chuckle. “Well, their leader blew up the city about a century and a half ago. That’s how long they’ve been missing.”

She was almost sorry he’d said that, even though she sus­pected it herself. They were being monitored by the ship’s master computer, of course, and their conversation dampened to others, who would hear only unintelligible murmurs unless they came right up close. But Jeremiah Kincaid would have heard it. If not now, he’d certainly review it later. And he’d know that his ancient enemy was indeed at the center of all this.

“And you think that they’ll just give you a ride out?”

He shrugged. “They say so. The Rithians were also in­volved in getting me what I wanted, so they have no reason not to vouch for me along the line, or if need be, take me in theirs. What I carry is information that my people need but which is of no value to others. My people know I have it. I doubt if the Rithians want to get them angry.”

“Who are the bodyguards aboard? Do you know?” she asked him.

“Some. Maybe all. I don’t know. The Mallegestors are certainly hired muscle. Pretty intimidating muscle, too, I’d say. All they need to do is sit on you. And you have to get through two hundred centimeters of hide before they notice enough to say ‘Ouch.’ Beyond them, I’d guess the two females.”

“Those two? But they’re no more than pet prostitutes!”

“True, but some people train their pets to guard their homes and families. He’s incredibly rich and powerful and he’s above the law. The King has every means of conditioning—biochemistry, virtual reality conditioning, you name it. If you look close at them you’ll see that they are in superb physical condition, and I don’t mean just for sexual favors. They probably were empty-headed runaways from backwater planets, ignorant and without any sense of themselves when he or his people picked them. But I’ve seen that before, in both sexes, not only among your people but other races as well. He probably has a com­mand, possibly verbal or gesture. Give that, and the condi­tioning takes over and they’ll become fearless and vicious protectors. I know a bit about conditioning people myself. I can only do it for a short period and only with the most elementary basics. Imagine what the wonders of science can do in his hands. The perfect bodyguards.”

She didn’t like that idea at all. There would be no way to read such a person’s actions. Still, if they were what he said they were, they could be dealt with.

“We’re not stopping now, though,” she said. “Surely everybody knows that. Kincaid is taking us straight through using grain cargo as fuel. What do you think they’re going to do about it?”

“Your assessment of what Kincaid will do tells me you have a lot to learn,” the Geldorian responded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m referring to whether Kincaid will stop the ship for our supposed rescuers. They’ve had a lot of time to factor in Captain Jeremiah Wong Kincaid.”

“I’ve gotten to know him pretty well over the past few days,” she told him. “I trust him.”

Tann Nakitt stared at her. “You have no idea. I doubt if I have any idea. The hatred in that man is all there is beneath the surface.”

“You are wrong. There’s a real person deep inside there. I’ve seen him.”

“You have seen the pragmatic Captain, but it sits atop the hate, like a thin film of scum atop a pond. The hate is the pond, and he does not control it. It’s irrational, single-minded, obsessive. If Kincaid wanted to save us from the bad guys, he could do it. He’s got full control back, he knows the score, and we’re pretty helpless in fighting him. You have no idea what absolute control a ship’s master has if the computer’s neural net recognizes him as master. That was why they had to deal with the original captain. You think Kincaid was here by accident? Who knows how he learned of this plot, but he knew it out of the gate. What little he didn’t know he filled in. Your gods didn’t put him here to save us and fight sin. His demons put him here to get to his sole object of hatred. Wallinchky could have called this off at any time, too. He hasn’t. That’s because he knows that Kincaid will stop. He’s counting on it.”

“I can’t believe I was fooled by him, but just in case, you and I will need to speak again.”

The Geldorian gave a very Terran shrug. “I’m hardly going anywhere, am I?” He took another drag on his pipe. “You sure aren’t telepathic, are you? At least with your own kind. You may be able to tell lies from someone who is merely deceitful by nature, but you are helpless against psychopaths.”

Captain Kincaid was waiting for her in the big command chair on the bridge. Since she was the only one who could come up there, all others being blocked by the computer from access, he didn’t even bother to turn around when she entered. Still, he said, conversationally, “That was some kind of move you made against the Geldorian. You really can take care of yourself! I had to put the recording on the slowest tolerable speed to see you move! I’m impressed!”

She didn’t respond to his compliment, nor was she in the mood for flattery. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Is it true? Are you going to stop for them?”

He paused a moment, then said, “Of course. They hope I will, anyway.”

“But—why? Is Tann Nakitt right? Are you insane?”

“Possibly,” he admitted, as cheerfully as if he’d com­mented on a good wine. “Most think that I am.”

She felt real anger against him for the first time. “Why? Why will you do what they want? Will it please you if they go through all this and then this ship gets blown up with all remaining aboard so you can go chase your demon Emperor?”

He swiveled the command chair around slowly and faced her. “I think I can prevent that. I hope so. If I’m wrong, a few unhappy bystanders will die and I will add more innocent blood to my record. I can guarantee that Wallinchky’s lifeboat won’t respond to his orders, or those of anyone we know con­nected with him. Doesn’t matter which lifeboat he picks, either. That means he either helps this ship get out of here or he goes with the rest. He’s a very smart man who’s lived a long time, and, as your friend says, it would be very bad for future business if he got blown away on this operation.”

“Then—why?”

“If we go right on by, we may be met at the next destina­tion by more tugs with thugs. Wallinchky walks away and either the Rithians will get their cargo back before Customs, to try it again on another trip, or it’ll all blow up as soon as they’re off. Either way we gain nothing. We change the names and faces of those who will die, and we delay them a couple of weeks.”

“If they blow it, whatever it is, up, that’ll delay them longer than that.”

“Not much. They have the prototype, yes, so it would be inconvenient to lose it, but they have the entire plans and specifications and even the operator’s manual, as it were, and that is far more valuable. It simply means that the cus­tomer will have to arrange to have one built on the black market out on the frontier where it won’t be noticed until it’s too late. Either way, the first solid lead pointing directly to Josich Hadun’s hiding place in more than a dozen years will have been squandered. How many more will he kill before that chance comes again?”

She didn’t like this at all. “I see no moral choice but to save the innocents here and try again. And what of the inno­cents in the water-breathing modules? I cannot get to them.”

“I don’t think there are many innocents there, but if they are, they’re dead no matter what we do. We might as well make their deaths mean something.”

That was not a proper answer, she thought, but she was beginning to see how useless reason was with him now. Still, she had to give it one last try.

“You have no guarantee that this will lead you to your enemy, but there is a great probability that some will die,” she argued.

“You can’t stop it. Tomorrow we will stop, just where that Ghoma ship expects us to be. The distress signal will be sent. Of course, we won’t really be out of fuel or in distress, but it will be pretty convincing. They will come. During that fallow time, you and others you trust must get all those not involved in this to lifeboats and get the boats away. They are preprogrammed. The Ghomas likely won’t detect you, but if you use the cryogenic settings, you’ll reach a Junction or Starbase or a known hospitable Realm world in due time. Do it as quickly and quietly as you can. The computers will help you.”

“And you?”

“They need a tug to get the module out. I’ve found it and I now control it. Where that ship and that module goes, I will go as well. Unless they have their own freighter, they won’t be going all that far with a module that size. In fact, I already suspect where he is. I just have to get there.”

“And not be killed.”

He smiled grimly. “I can’t be killed. I’m already dead.”

It didn’t seem there was any way to talk him out of it. The only choice she could see, morally and otherwise, was to count on him for cover and get out those who had to go. If she understood any of this complicated mess or could argue well with the computer, she would have chosen to disable Kincaid and just arrange not to stop. Being unable to do any of that, she knew she would have to do it his way.

And she would have to do it fast. The ever-present count­down clocks said there were only hours left to go.

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