Jay Caselberg, page 15
His dream aliens were trying to tell him something, and one way or another he had to work out what it was. He just hadn’t had time to do it yet.
There was nothing for it, so Jack made his way up the passageway to find Dog occupied, checking figures, cross-referencing against the sheets, adjusting instruments. None of it meant anything to Jack.
He cleared his throat, standing in the doorway. McCreedy waved him in without looking up from what he was doing.
“Find yourself a seat, whichever one looks comfortable. I’d suggest one of the front ones. That way you can see what’s going on. I’m just about done here, and we can get under way in a couple of minutes.”
Jack headed for one of the three seats up near the front viewscreen. He maneuvered himself into place, strapped in, and sat staring at blank screens in front of him. After a minute like that, he cleared his throat again. “Um, any problems?”
“Nah. Everything’s fine, Jack. You always were a nervous flier, even back then. Some things never change. This is a jump ship. It’s not a jungle carrier.”
Jack looked over at McCreedy and narrowed his eyes. “Flying’s flying. Doesn’t matter where it is. At least back there you could see the ground.”
McCreedy grinned and shook his head. “Think of it this way: If you’re in a ship, the ship becomes the ground for you. It’s as if you’re in your own little world. Everything’s here, self-contained, all you need.”
“Hmmm,” said Jack. “Not convinced.”
Dog shrugged and went back to his checking. Not wanting to interrupt the process, Jack started fidgeting. After little more than ten seconds of that, Dog sighed. He reached over and touched something on a nearby panel, and the front screens washed into life. “There, occupy yourself for a couple of minutes.”
This view was different, and enough to fully occupy Jack’s attention. The platform lip swept in a broad arc around the Amaranth’s nose, cupping the sleek bulb where Jack knew the jump drive lay. It made him uncomfortable knowing that here, up front, they were sitting almost on top of the thing, but he had to put it out of his head. Now, from this perspective, the platform seemed motionless. It was the central cylinder that rotated. The platform stretched out like some white metallic plain, even lines of humped shiny rivets crisscrossing in both directions. About halfway in were guide markings, and the occasional small flier, anchored in place by the connecting tubes sealed to their outer edges. He watched the cylinder for a while. Blank wall, clear panel. Blank wall, clear panel. He couldn’t see inside from here.
Any view was obscured by silvery-white reflections of the orbital structure. His attention drifted back to the platform and down to the curved wall against which the ship’s nose was nestled. Clever design.
All around the wall, for as far as the view would permit, he could see side-by-side hatch doors. So, no matter what the dimensions of the ship, they could accommodate whichever entry hatch connected to allow ingress. Most of the platform had to be hollow, full of the labyrinth of conduits and passageways feeding the various docking points. It didn’t explain how they dealt with the long freighter he’d seen coming in, but he was sure they’d worked out some method that was immensely practical, designed to do the job with the minimum of fuss.
“Right,” said Dog eventually. “I’m done. You okay?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, let’s do it.” He’d already shoved the papers out of sight. Dog reached forward and touched a place on the control panel in front of him. “Orbital Control, this is Amaranth. Requesting clearance.”
The voice that responded was a woman. “One moment, McCreedy. Checking vectors. You’re clear. No incoming. Have a nice trip.”
“Thanks, Raisa,” Dog responded. “See you soon.”
Damn, did Dog know everyone up here? Well, maybe he did.
McCreedy busied himself with the controls, touching a sequence and then waiting for a second until there was a clear vibration through the ship. He nodded and touched another sequence, then spoke again. “Disengaged. Pushing back.”
Jack watched the retreating platform lip as they drifted slowly backward.
“Okay,” Dog said. “On our way. We’ll clear the platform, and then turn before I fire up. Too much to get caught up in close to the station. We’ll have about four hours before I get near the first jump point.”
“And then… ?”
“And then we jump. We get through the jump, I recalculate, get to the next point; then we jump again.
The second leg’s going to be longer than the first. Maybe a day. Whatever it is, we’ll have some time to catch up, eh, Jack?”
It was probably the last thing on Jack’s mind at the moment. He watched the retreating orbital growing smaller as they drifted back to the point where McCreedy would perform their turn. Down below, now revealed, lay Utrecht, mostly obscured by clouds. Not even one last sight of Balance City to send them on their way.
Chapter Fifteen
As the drives kicked into life, Jack settled back in his seat. In front of them lay open space, blackness and stars. Jack swallowed, willing himself to relax. It was true: He did have questions he wanted to ask Dog, questions that had been troubling him on and off over the last couple of days. Not all of them were related to Danny Boy McCreedy either. If he was lucky, McCreedy might be able to give him something more on the Sons of Utrecht. And as far as McCreedy himself was concerned, there was time to find out a little about what had happened to the man since their days in the service, how he had ended up on Utrecht in the first place. Sure, McCreedy had given him the thumbnail sketch, but somehow Jack didn’t think that was quite enough.
Dog finally settled back in his seat too, finished for the time being with the routines and checks he had to make to get them where they were going. He gave a satisfied sigh.
“All plain sailing from here,” he said.
“Well, we hope so,” said Jack in response, unable to keep the dubious note from his voice.
“Relax, Stein. Everything’s fine.”
“So I’m curious, Dog. How did you end up on Utrecht in the first place? Balance City just doesn’t seem your sort of thing. Maybe you’ve changed.” Jack doubted it. Looking at the man, the way he carried himself, the attitude, it was all reminiscent of the wild boy he had known back then. Perhaps a little more jaded, but still the same guy, just older.
Dog started playing with a long strand of hair, watching the stars in front of them. “How so?” he said finally.
“Well, I don’t know. I would have thought all that order and regimentation would drive you crazy.”
“Yeah, it does, from time to time, but if you know the way they work, then you know the way to work them too, if you get what I mean. That whole rigid-attitude thing… The problem is, because it’s all so bound up in rules and expectations, if there’s any loophole whatsoever, they grab it and run. Of course, those at the top are as corrupt as hell. The politicians, the officials, all the same. If you know how to play by their rules, know where those loopholes are, then you can get ahead.”
“Hmmmm,” said Jack. “And you feel comfortable with that?”
Dog shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“No, I guess you’re right.” Jack mulled that over for a couple of seconds before speaking again. “So tell me, what brought you here?”
Dog gave a short laugh. “I was doing freighter work, long-haul stuff. The arrangement I had… well, it sort of fell apart. The owner and I had a little falling-out. When I popped him one, I found myself on the Utrecht orbital, no ship, no passage out, and no funds. I didn’t have a choice really. I worked the hotels and the bars for a while, picking up whatever I could to get by, and then someone heard I was a pilot. I got a couple of short shuttle jobs and then graduated from there. Don’t get me wrong; I was doing fine out of the bar work and the other stuff. I just couldn’t leave the ships alone. I guess it’s in my blood.”
“And how’d you pick that up?” asked Jack, indicating the burn scar.
Dog rubbed the mark thoughtfully. “Pirates.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, we still have pirates,” said Dog. “That’s what they are. No other words for them. Long-haul freighter routes can easily fall prey to the occasional bandit. And that far out, there’s no one there to help. Every man for himself.” Dog lowered his hand from his face thoughtfully. “I gave better than I
got, anyway. Half of the crew wasn’t so lucky. The other crew, their crew, wasn’t lucky at all. They made the wrong choice picking on us. You have to be careful around freighter crews for that reason.
They’re used to taking care of themselves. And that’s also why every long-hauler has an armory. You never know when you need to break out the firepower.”
Jack pictured Dog crouched in a passageway, weapon in hand, smoke obscuring the view. He could see it, all right.
“Is it okay if I get up?” asked Jack.
“Sure. It’s a while till we get to the jump coordinates. Feel free. You need to stretch your legs? Facilities are back there.”
“No, that’s okay. I like to walk while I think.”
Dog laughed. “There’s not much space for walking here.”
“There’s enough,” said Jack quietly.
He paced around the bridge, back and forth between the passageway and his seat, pausing to look at the starscape a couple of times.
“Tell me, McCreedy, precisely how much do you know about the Sons of Utrecht?”
“Them again.” Dog snorted. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, precisely,” said Jack. “I just need to work a couple of things through. After I left you that first time, I had that visit. Or rather, they took me on a visit to Aire’s place down in Carlton. I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I don’t like that much.”
“Okay.” Dog had swung his seat around, looking interested, tracking Jack as he walked.
“Rufus told me after that first visit that this guy Maximilian Aire was tied up with them.”
Dog nodded. “The rumor is that Aire is SOU. He doesn’t come out with it publicly, but everybody suspects. He has front men to do the public stuff. In fact, he’s very rarely seen.”
Jack gripped the back of his seat. “I’ve had dealings with them before. I told you that. The whole Landerman thing. I think the SOU are the reason Heering ended up taking a fall. They want to control the information, and Heering wouldn’t play.”
“Wait, Landerman? Christian Landerman?”
Jack nodded.
“Damn, I didn’t make the connection before.” Dog’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “Yes, it could be. That’s not good. Damned SOU are always where you don’t want them. But why Heering? And why the SOU rather than Aire himself?”
Jack nodded and sat, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Max Aire checked me out. I had nothing. He knew Antille’s connection, also that I’d been to the university and seen Heering. It’s exactly the same sort of interest that the SOU had before. It would have been easy to assume that Heering had the stuff that I needed. Heering knew enough about what Aire wanted and—”
“So why would he have him killed?”
“Yeah, I don’t get it. Maybe they went too far. Maybe it was an accident. He made it clear, though, that he thought I was more useful to him than Heering.”
Dog was looking at him, his jaw set firmly. “And now you’ve dragged me into it.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted a bit of excitement.”
“Thanks a lot, buddy.”
Jack shook his head. “All of that’s just speculation, but it would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
Dog narrowed his eyes and swiveled his seat away.
“What’s the problem, McCreedy?”
With a glare, Dog swung his seat back to face Jack. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Stein. You’re looking at Mr. Anonymity here. You might not think it looking at me, but I make my living by existing below the radar. You’ve just raised my profile. I don’t seem to have been consulted on the matter.”
“Come on, McCreedy, it’s more than that. Anonymity, you? I don’t buy it. What was all that stuff about having a rep? Look at the way you carry yourself. Just about every person we ran into on the orbital knew you. No. I don’t believe that for an instant.”
McCreedy worked his jaw before answering, and when he did, his eyes were still hard. “There’s low-profile and there’s low-profile, Jack. You should know that. You of all people. Remember where we both came from. You know what it means.” He turned away again, making the pretense of busying himself with the controls in front. Jack sighed and stood.
“Fine. I’m going to lie down for a while. We’ve a couple of hours, right? Wake me before we jump if I’m not back.”
Dog grunted wordlessly without turning around.
As he wandered back to his cabin, Jack thought about their exchange. Something had pressed Dog’s buttons, but he couldn’t work out why the SOU was such an issue for McCreedy himself. Dog had
virtually discounted them, and yet his reactions had clearly said otherwise. Interesting. Sure, Utrecht was Dog’s home ground, and also home ground for the SOU, but there was no way, by any stretch of the imagination, that Dog McCreedy was anonymous. Anyway, further exploration could wait. It was about time he started directing his skills instead of letting them do the work for him.
Since he’d arrived on Utrecht, his concern about Billie had kept him almost on autopilot. He had a couple of hours, and that was long enough for a dream session. There were no inducer pads here, no equipment, but with the starkness of the cabin, and his own exercises, it wouldn’t be too hard to induce the necessary dreamstate. If he could push away any thoughts of the impending jump, that was.
As soon as he was inside the cabin, with the door securely closed, Jack glanced around, seeking a time display of some sort. Nothing. Maybe there was something in the screen above the bed, or somewhere else. He tried playing around with the system, but drew a blank. He stood in the cabin’s center, his hands on his hips, considering. How did you measure time on board a ship in a way that it made any sort of sense, anyway? Dismissing the thought, he started to remove his clothing, placed it to one side, and lay in his accustomed position on the bed, his hands crossed on his chest, his eyes gently closed, letting the sounds and motion around him drift out of his consciousness. Gradually he let an image form in his mind’s screen, concentrating. A blond sixteen-year-old, hair messed up, attitude written all over her face. She wore a pale blue sweat top with a hood and jeans. Her jaw was thrust out in the classic pose she got when she was pissed about something. Billie, he thought. Yeah, that was Billie. He left the arms uncrossed. He didn’t want the mental image to be one that was blocking him, body language or otherwise. Billie, he thought. Where are you? As he concentrated on the image, all sensation of the cabin, the ship, the space around him started to fade.
Jack’s breathing slowed as he drifted deeper into that mental state that was the precursor to the onset of
dreams. Images flickered at the edges of his consciousness, but he ignored them, maintaining his attention on Billie’s accusatory stare. Come on, Billie, show me where you are. Wilhelmina? Billie?
No, not Wilhelmina. He hadn’t called her that for years. She was always Billie. Always would be.
Darkness drifted across his mind as his consciousness floated lower, deeper into the receptive state.
Billie, where are you?
Light. Light and motion. Metallic star shapes flashing all around. There was noise and yet there wasn’t noise. No, there should be noise. Jack was standing at a junction between four large buildings. Shiny surfaces angled up on every side. They were buildings and yet… something was strange about them.
He turned slowly, trying to get his orientation right. A single shining wall in front swept up at an angle.
Up, above, and over behind him. Jack took a step closer, trying to make out the surface. Was it metal?
Something else. Another step.
A bright silver shape whipped past up and off to one side, too quickly for him to catch the detail. Then another.
All your senses, Jack. All of them.
The air smelled hard, metallic, like the surfaces of the walls around him. Still there was no sound, and he concentrated, forcing his will into hearing what surrounded him, trying to break through the barrier of complete silence. Nothing. He couldn’t hear a thing. Was that significant? Was there a message for him in the silence? He narrowed his eyes and pushed against the deafness, but to no avail.
He stepped even closer to the metallic surface in front and slowly reached out with one hand, touching first his fingers, then the flat of his palm against the smoothness.
It seemed solid enough, but it wasn’t smooth, as he’d first imagined. There were tiny ridges in the surface. It was neither hot nor cold, matching the temperature of his skin. He slid his hand up and down, feeling the continuity of the tiny ridgelines.
Why was he here? He turned his head, but behind him was another angled wall, farther away, but looking exactly the same as the one before him. Others stood to the left and the right. Following the path of the opposite wall, he lifted his gaze. The wall angled up and inward, meeting a flat, dark surface some distance above. He suddenly had the impression that he was standing under some giant designer chair, the underside of the seat straight up, and thick arching legs meeting at each corner. He blinked several times in succession, seeing if the image would change, but it stayed. He turned his attention back to the wall, the smoothly ridged surface, and noticed rainbow colors working through the silver sheen, as if multihued patterns shifted deep within the wall’s surface. Every time he moved his head, the patterns changed. Nice effect, but it was getting him no closer to working out why he was here. He decided to trace the wall’s boundaries and turned to the right.
