Shadowed Passage, page 4
"They recognize what they choose to, DualE. That is why I prefer military methods. We have to look at all the factors and data."
"The factor you miss or ignore is the one which will kill you," said DualE in rote. "I remember my training. How do I get him out? If he's willing to accept the risk, and I think he is, we'd like to proceed on our journey with the Penance."
"On to the Eddy?"
"Pious wants to stop at Slate's Progress. The brothers made headway there before their rush to follow Denz back to Argosy Station three months ago. We're willing to take the risk. Can you intervene?"
Rowland's face was hard to read. He was in command here, speaking to a subordinate, not a friend.
"I can try. You ask a big favor in a stressful time."
The military boot dropped. "It is a favor. And you want something back."
"I haven't decided our next port of call. I need to know what's going on out there. Wherever you and the missionaries barnacle to, you will observe and evaluate. But get to the Eddy as soon as feasible without raising the brothers' suspicions."
The mask slipped a little. Rowland's need was genuine.
"I'm to be your eyes and ears again, is that it? And Carver too?"
"You'll suffice. Denz has a habit of following his conscience. He need not be aware of your dual mission."
"Divide my loyalty?"
"Your loyalty is to me. You owe everything you are to the navy. You'd be a fishwife on Aqueous Prime if not for the service. Old, cold and a drudge. I am your savior." His eyes met hers. "Once in the service..."
"...always in the service," she finished. "I know that mantra too."
Rowland slid a paper from under a pile and passed it to her. "A formal contract is required for non-enlisted personnel working with us."
"You guarantee to deliver him to me?"
Rowland nodded.
DualE signed off. Service for life. She'd deluded herself into believing her new-found freedom would allow her to make her choices. "Make the call to release him."
Rowland turned his back to her and spoke too low for her to hear. There was silence then he raised his voice. "Gone? What do you mean, he's gone? Find him." Rowland turned back to face her. He tapped a finger on the paper she just completed. "Carver appears to have been misplaced. This doesn't change our deal."
Another boot dropped. "You set this up," said DualE. "Carver's arrest was phony from the outset, designed solely to blackmail me into signing that agreement. Well, stuff it." She whirled and stalked toward the door.
The Lieutenant manning the door stared straight past her. He wasn't part of this. Her eyes fell on one of his battle patches. Tryon's Breach. DualE had fought there, saving and losing comrades in a poorly planned, marginally executed fight.
She stopped and turned to face Rowland. "I will honor my commitment, Admiral. Not because of my loyalty to you but because of my loyalty to those who serve under you."
"Bravely spoken," he answered.
She marched back to the desk. "There's something else you're holding back."
"Someone's trying to re-start the war we avoided," he said. "When we do arrive in the Eddy, I have to prepare to engage in diplomacy or battle. What you discover will help my decision."
"Authorize my full access to the station. I need to find him and book passage to the Eddy." She didn't wait for his answer but heard his voice on the comm before the door closed behind her.
Rowland swore under his breath. Argosy Station's personnel were not to be trusted. He couldn't waste time correcting the situation.
He commed the bridge. "Captain Siebe, prepare Rickover jump astrogation plans for both Slate's Progress and the Eddy."
"I thought the Eddy was our target, sir."
"That would be the expected route for us. I haven't won my battles by being predictable. I have backup heading for the Eddy. We will get there in good time and with good intelligence."
He opened a secure link to the Indefatigable. He calculated his likely timetable. "Maintain surveillance of station and quadrant. Unless countermanded by me personally, jump to Eddy in four weeks. Remain passive there until you hear from me. That is all."
Rowland reviewed the Confluence Naval Brief on screen. Slate's Progress – Preferred jump-node between Argosy Station and the most popular prospecting quadrant. Alternate stop-off to and from Schoenfeld Eddy for jump vessels more comfortable with two moderate jumps than one full jump between Argosy and the Eddy. A private enterprise overseen by Commander Slate. Shareholders include most of the original settler family consortiums.
He added his own note. Military assessment – strategic information and personnel crossroads.
Chapter 8
Chels Harte stretched and rolled over one last time, luxuriating in a bed which didn't force her to bend her legs to fit. Sharing Slate's quarters within Progress, and the commander's bed, was a welcome change after months of berths and hammocks designed for prospectors and staff a head shorter than she.
Transient visitors didn't complain, prospectors and salvagers came to Slate's Progress to convert their finds into currency and short-term pleasure before returning to their dangerous, rarely lucrative, vocations. She'd done the same in her time but now relegated to this station and non-jump environs, she'd had to eke out a new existence. That meant rudimentary accommodations, even free, inserted amidst Progress' plumbing or structural bones. Regardless, it meant cramped.
She had interacted with Slate on finding accommodation and grunt work for a handful of similarly trapped spacers and they'd connected. He knew the vagabonds could become a problem and pushed her to help them with his support. Now this. Luxury, the best word to describe it.
Chels pointed her toes and raised arms above her head. No barriers to either. What would Pious think of her sensual relief? She'd ask his forgiveness if she saw him again. If not, she'd petition herself.
It was time to rise and begin her daily task of spreading Pious' words within Progress and soliciting donations. Another few months and she reckoned she'd have enough credit to fuel her ship and make a loop amongst the closest prospecting clusters and offer her counsel a person or two at a time.
Showered and coffee'd, Chels made her way through Progress to the small chamber Slate had provided as a chapel for her ministry. Pious had changed her life, given her purpose when she couldn't handle jumpspace any longer and had failed too many times as a prospector. She wasn't certain about God, but she was certain about Pious giving her purpose. If he was God's tool, then the deity had chosen well.
Slate's Progress was a maze of bespoke modifications and specific add-ons following no obvious architectural plan. The station's morphology could best be described as abstract chaos. Chels loved every inch of it, even the inches new and unknown to her. Slate's was alive, an organic construct in constant metamorphosis.
According to Slate, the Realm's brokered peace with Bohr would lead to more commercial and governmental traffic. A caravan hub and an immigration stop-over point. 'Managed well, Progress will rival or surpass Argosy Station in commerce,' Slate had told her. She hoped success didn't destroy its character. She loved the energy which pioneers brought to Progress.
Chels descended a long elevator sling to her chapel's deck. Below her, open to the inside atmosphere, a few hundred meters of infrastructure pumped survival throughout the station.
She pulled a robe from the hook outside the chapel entrance and poked her head through the neck. She crossed herself and entered the small room.
A figure sat on the pew in front of the plain altar she'd scrounged from an old freighter captain's cabin.
She walked to the front and rang a small bell before lighting a candle. "Welcome, space-brother. Don't let me interrupt your thoughts." She wouldn't assume he was praying. The man was a prospector, judging by his attire and helmet-seal welts permanently pressed into his forehead.
Chels sat on the next bench and spoke her morning pledge. "If I can help one person today, I count it as a successful day." She repeated it until it was cellular, then rose to begin her street ministry amongst the passageways, holds and secret places within Slate's Progress. She would return to the chapel at supper shift-change to hold service for anyone who chose to come.
She hoped Pious and his brothers would return. She wanted to be ready for them. She wanted to present them with a congregation. It was time for the Realm to make another step toward a spiritual civilization, not just a technological and economic one.
Chels smiled inwardly at her transformation since meeting Brother Pious. The brash hedonist had become a spiritual messenger. She was able to enjoy physical pleasure with Slate but anxious to help others find peace. Could she be certain the change was permanent? She couldn't. She had to have faith that it was real, no challenge had presented itself thus far to test her.
The visitor lifted his head and turned to face her. His eyes stared past her. What test did he seek?
"Welcome to our chapel. I'm Chels Harte. Do I know you?" She might. He looked like a hundred other prospectors and wayfarers she'd encountered in her rough life in this frontier.
"Maybe. I don't know." A weariness in his voice told her any past acquaintance didn't matter.
"It would help if I know your name."
He focused on her, then swept his gaze to either side.
"You don't need to make a donation to talk with me."
"Perry," he whispered. His hands knotted in front of him. "Do you take confession?"
"Usually over a drink or three in the tavern." Chels smiled. Perry didn't respond to the joke. She mirrored his somber mood. "I listen. I can't absolve you of guilt but I can sympathize with your regrets. Believe me, I've had my share of moral and legal transgressions. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't live with them. Good enough?"
Perry nodded. "I have to tell someone. In confidence, right?"
A sticky question. She wasn't ordained and had no right to confessional privilege. But her commitment to Pious and herself should be complete, no ethical half-measures. "I promise to use my best judgment. If you're planning to injure or kill someone, then I'll protect them if I can."
"My future plans aren't the issue." Perry slid close to her. "No ears?"
"This chapel is unmonitored. I can close the door."
"Please."
Chels checked the passageway. Empty. Any other spacers in spiritual need weren't awake yet. She slid the door closed and sat beside him. "I don't have a proscribed routine for this so just talk."
Perry took a moment, surveying the chapel. "My partner and me, we work the true Eddy. The junk-whorl. Salvage mostly. Ships, satellites, discarded mech; anything which has fallen under the gravitational sink. You understand?"
"Yes." The good and bad. Mostly bad. "I spent too much time there years ago when I first shipped out here. Part of a four-person team looking for heavy asteroids. We found enough to pay for the trip but no more. It takes a patient breed."
"We never found a lode, just tech." Perry gripped the backrest in front of him. "Our last trip we found more than human wreckage. We found something beyond known. Maybe alien."
"I've heard of a few found artifacts no one could identify." Didn't mean alien. "How could you be certain it wasn't manmade?"
"We weren't certain. Not until we used it." His breath was shallow. Sweat beaded his forehead.
"If you could figure the tech out to use it, doesn't that imply human origin?"
Perry shook his head. "My partner was a communication expert. He figured it was some kind of jumpspace beacon. We didn't care about how it got to the Eddy. But we revived it. We wanted to send a test signal when a freighter entered the crackle."
Crackle, the entry point from normal to jump. Chels considered the implications. Getting messages through spookspace consistently was a goal still being chased by the physicists. The researchers couldn't better 50-50 success. She put a hand over Perry's. Why the guilt, then? "What happened? Sounds like you had a grand opportunity."
"We zeroed in on the freighter as it prepped to jump. We fired our message. A light beam emerged from the end of the cylinder. At least we had the right end."
Perry trembled as he breathed deep. "The beam drew matter from near void itself. The contrail was a glowing cylinder thirty or forty thousand kliks long. The recoil tore it from our location. Thank God we weren't attached to it. I don't know what kind of message we sent but it wasn't benevolent. My gut tells me that's a certainty. The jumpspace nightmares coming here confirmed it to me."
"We've not heard any bad news. How long ago?"
"Ten days to sneak back to the Eddy 'yard. It took me a week to get here. I've been drunk for four days since. And took me two more days to decide what to do."
"Would you return to look for the artifact?"
"Not in a thousand years."
"Shit," said Chels.
"Yeah."
"Where's you partner?"
"Last time I saw him at the Eddy shipyard he was severely messed up. Trying to decide whether to retrieve it, destroy it or head for Bohr and anonymity."
"And you? Planning to join him regardless?"
"No. I think the two of us together would push one or the other over reason's edge. I'll stay here for now. Until I need to go out again. But I'll stick to detritus I know." Perry stood; head bowed. "Thanks."
"I don't know if telling me has helped you but feel free to come back anytime."
"I have to go." He left her alone in the chapel.
She wished Pious was here to guide her next choice. Slate should be told, not just for her loyalty to him but for the safety of the station. But Perry had confessed in confidence. Which path took precedence?
Chapter 9
Schoenfeld Eddy – Can refer to the haphazard shipyard or the large of a collection of gravitational anomalies in the Edgecombe system. The whirlpools abound with captured asteroids and human-created detritus. The Eddy's strategic location with respect to exploration of promising worlds beyond it make it ideal for staging.
Rumors persist that the Realm's intended rebel fleet rendezvoused in the system. Confluence Naval inspection teams will survey the quadrant to ensure the fleet has been dispersed and re-assigned to exploration duty.
The Eddy is also home to scavengers preferring to mine the detritus for salvageable tech rather than the high risk, low success mineral prospecting.
Confluence Naval Brief.
Zofie's cryo-mind traversed jumpspace ahead of their transport, racing to escape the spook demons buried in her subconscious. She saw the Eddy shipyard hanging like a confused alloy shard aggregate. Surrounding the jumbled docking, trading and maintenance station were the large and small spatial maelstroms where lurked minor reward and major risk. The foreshortened view in her jump hallucinations magnified the danger.
Over her shoulder, then hurtling past her, was the suited form of another traveler. She didn't need to see the face to recognize Carver Denz, the source of her guilty dreams. One source. She'd betrayed him before on the Pollux months ago and now again in pulling him from Argosy Station without telling DualE or the brothers she'd done so. The rationalization was that she had freed him and both escaped before discovery. Everyone owed Zofie for that bit of trickery. Everyone but her.
As usual in spookspace, the guilt replayed endlessly until she felt the initial warming tingles of cryo withdrawal. She crawled from her coffin, checked Carver's timer and proceeded to de-barnacle from the Ranger.
"Ahoy, Ranger, this is the Whisper bidding you farewell and thanks for the smooth jump."
"Roger, Whisper. Good prospecting to you."
Free from the jumpspace transport, she docked the Whisper and prepared to go hunting for commerce. She initiated Carver's revival, secured the ship from inside and out. Then she left, trying not to consider Carver's temporary abandonment as yet another betrayal.
Carver tried to run. His feet were too heavy to lift off the ground. A part of his brain repeated he was in deepsleep and the nightmare came from jumpspace, not within himself.
Despite his handicap, he needed to hurry. Helena waited in the Confluence. His regrets magnified with the delay in reaching her. He finally arrived at their rendezvous, exhausted. Helena wasn't there. Instead of his fiancé, a letter awaited him. He didn't need to open it; he knew it by heart. The change in feelings. Her light-hearted dismissal of their engagement. She couldn't be expected to wait for him alone while he jumped across the Realm.
Carver held another paper, his contract with the brothers. He wouldn't keep their rendezvous either. Kidnapped. Zofie Ked. His back twitched. A warning? He tried to look behind but couldn't. Jumpspace held his mind immovable. The cryo coffin held his body firm.
His fingertips burned and he dropped the papers. Toes, ears and nose followed suit. I hate deepsleep. His body warmed from cryo back into the real universe.
Carver sat alone in the Whisper. The airlock was sealed and code-protected against his exit so he brewed tea and heated food. Zofie's audio monitor was locked on receive only. While he ate, he listened and peered through the viewport.
He recognized the random arrangement of superstructure beams and gantries. The Whisper was in a small-craft dock in the Eddy shipyards. This wasn't where diplomats or Confluence naval craft would come. This was where the commerce of frontier settlement took place. The one-sided commerce which drove the Realm to threaten secession. You had to push people past their limits to make them see reason sometimes.
Zofie's barnacle transport had bypassed Slate's Progress or he'd deepslept through it. It could matter if someone tracked them but knowing where he was at this point seemed more important than the navigational details of how he got there.
The communication traffic was all arrival, departure, ladings information and maintenance schedules. Nothing he could use for advantage when Zofie returned.
With nothing more productive to focus on, he chose her as his next item of scrutiny. Why had she freed, kidnapped and now imprisoned him? Why had she taken flight from Argosy Station so quickly? If anyone besides the station wanted him out of the way, then the answer to that was obvious. Still, a keen mind, such as DualE's or Pious' could connect his disappearance and outgoing jumpships to locate him. Eventually.
