Moon Flower (40 page)

“Meaning?”

“Ah... talk goes around. Let’s just say that Milicorp might have their own reasons for needing a body for the wolves.”

Callen stared at Shearer long and hard. A change had come about in the atmosphere. Although the protocols of the situation didn’t permit it to be voiced, there was a mutual recognition of their positions as being more congruent in some ways than adversarial. The conversation was no doubt being recorded, but Shearer assumed that the interrogator would have editing capability. “My compliments on your reasoning,” Callen said finally.

“That figures both ways,” Shearer replied. And meant it. He snorted and smiled faintly. “It’s too bad you’re going the wrong way — back to a meat grinder. Your kind of thinking would be priceless to the Cyreneans. They put great value on knowledge too. But they’re more intuitive. Rational analysis is something they need to work on — especially given the direction they’re heading. And they’ll do it without all the bloodbaths and the slave camps. Knowledge to create a better life for everybody, not just the leeches.”

“What is it about Cyrene?” Callen asked distantly.

Shearer shrugged. “That’s another thing Wade was hoping to find out more about. He thought Elena Hukishido might have been on to something. That was what got him excited. Some kind of euphoric or mild hallucinogen produced by plants, that Terrans react to.... They were still working on it.” Callen would know that the labs inside the base had been following that line with negative results.

Callen seemed to dream for a few seconds longer. Then he brushed it aside abruptly and said in a brisk voice, “But that’s not the way it is, is it? Life is about playing the hand you’re dealt. We’re heading for Earth.” In that moment Shearer had glimpsed what he had been looking for since he sat down. If there was to be any chance at all of pulling something off, he had no choice now but to go for it.

He studied a knuckle while he picked his words, and then asked in a curious voice, “But does it have to be that way?”

Callen frowned. “How else could it be?”

“Listen to what a lot of people’s instincts have already told them: Go where they know the light is. Be a part of that.”

“You mean Cyrene?”

“Why not? Why go back to a nightmare?”

Callen gave a sharp shake of his head, as if to be sure that Shearer wasn’t taking leave of his senses. “Even if I thought you were serious... how do you intend getting there? You can’t just show up at an airport after you get home.”

Shearer gestured briefly to indicate their surroundings. “Why wait till you get home? The means is right here.”

Callen looked incredulous, and then laughed derisively as if he were agreeing to share a sick joke. “And how do you propose persuading the captain to turn the
Ranger
around? None of the crew were down on Cyrene. In any case, I don’t think he’d be interested in trading places for a brigantine out of Revo.”

Shearer maintained a serious expression. “It will need at least two surface shuttles to take everyone from the
Ranger
down after it docks with the transfer satellite. You could lose the crew if they were assigned for relief on the first one — not unreasonable, since they’ve just done an interstellar round trip without a break. And people from Cyrene who have reasons for wanting to go back to Earth could be included on it too, such as Emner. That would leave a majority up at the satellite who want to return to Cyrene — enough to take over the
Ranger
if they were properly equipped and organized, had speed and surprise on their side. Any additional ones wanting to stay could be left on the satellite to be picked up.”

“And who’s going to take the
Ranger
back? You?” There was still mockery in Callen’s tone but it had lessened. His eyes played over Shearer’s face searchingly. He was listening.

“Colonel Yannis has done full military space piloting and commanded Heim ships. I guess you already know his record.”

“It needs more than a captain,” Callen pointed out.

“Getting us there would just need propulsion and navigation. We can forget communications, weapons control and targeting, and other specialized military functions. Berger and Polapulos were first and second drive officers on the
Tacoma
. They’re being shipped back because they were in contact with runaway Terrans. Sengatrow was a master fields engineering specialist from the
Boise
, before the
Tacoma
. Wen Siyu supervised drive and generating controls instrumentation. They were picked up at Linzava. In addition there are four others who could be brought up to speed for regular duty shifts. After something the size of the
Tacoma
, they shouldn’t have much trouble handling the basics of this kind of ship. Recharging the D-T primary fuel bank and restocking from the transfer satellite could be done in under an hour.”

Shearer left it at that. Either Callen was with him now, or else there was no point in continuing anyway. His only choice had been to stake all or nothing. He raised his chin and waited.

Callen regarded him with what looked like open disbelief for along time; then he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You obviously have it all figured out.... And these people you mentioned would be favorably disposed?”

“Oh, I’d say so. Sure.”

“How do you know you can trust them?”

“Obviously there are going to be risks. Evan Wade is pretty good when it comes to judging and recruiting people who won’t talk too much. You should know that.”

Callen shook his head again, but it was from wonder more than anything else. His eyes came back to meet Shearer’s. Shearer read in them a look of disbelief that Callen could think the things he was finding himself thinking.

But Shearer was getting used to that. He had seen that look many times now. Cyrene did crazy things to people.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

For a smaller craft like the
Ranger
, the H-point could be closer in to Earth than had been the case with the
Tacoma
. It reemerged into normal space a less than a day’s flight time from the transfer station designated DSX-14. As they made final approach, Shearer and his companions were able to verify its form on one of the cabin wall screens as a toroid surrounding a cylindrical central structure. Callen, who by this time was fully committed, had provided details of the internal structure and layout. A shuttle to take the first batch of arrivals down to the surface was already attached at one of the four docking ports. Of the remainder, one was occupied by a cargo shuttle, another out of use while undergoing overhaul, and the last, reserved for the
Ranger
. Also, standing off at a distance of a mile or so, waiting to move in, was a robot freighter that one of the company identified from its markings as having come from Cyrene. It was not the one that had been in orbit, loading, at the time of the
Tacoma
’s arrival — which couldn’t have made it to Earth in the time since, anyway. Shearer guessed it to be the one that Uberg had said departed earlier, on which he had sent his consignment of botanical seeds and samples for study. It appeared have arrived shortly before the
Ranger
 — possibly a matter of mere hours — and been put on hold to give servicing of the manned vessel priority.

The escape plan that started as an impossible brainchild of Shearer’s had gradually come together and taken form under Wade’s quiet but skilled direction. Three quarters of the detainees being brought back from Cyrene were involved, who knew the plan and were fluent in their roles. Wade had broken the group down into teams who talked to him and Shearer but not among each other. Individuals who, for whatever reason, had elected not to be included, such as Emner, were not conversant with the details, although under the conditions of their confinement it would have been impossible not to have some idea of what was going on. There was really little else that could be done to preserve secrecy. In the final measure they depended on trust in the goodwill of their fellows, which they knew was always a risky business in situations where there could be something to be gained by plea-bargaining. But what was the alternative? Shearer remarked to Wade that if they had thought to bring some moon flowers to brighten up the place, they might have been on surer ground. The strangest thing about it was the realization that he hadn’t been joking.

Callen had turned out to be not just an asset, but essential. As appreciation deepened of just what would be entailed, it became apparent that the cooperation of somebody in a position of influence on the outside was indispensable. Not only had he been a source of vital information on the numbers and disposition of the ship’s crew and the Milicorp contingent that it was carrying, but his position gave him a say in deciding the makeup of the shuttle passenger lists. In addition, his access to Milicorp’s records enabled him to identify four troopers and a sergeant from earlier missions who were being recalled on grounds of suspected unreliability, having been replaced by new blood that arrived with the
Tacoma
. Guarding nonviolent miscreants aboard a spacecraft was looked on as a “soft” duty that would at least get some useful work out of them on the way back, and Callen had arranged for them to be retained in this capacity and among the contingent that would stay with the
Ranger
when the first descent shuttle left. After putting out guarded feelers, Callen had succeeded in recruiting the sergeant, whose name was Osterman. He had been contemplating making a break on Cyrene since learning that returning to Earth would mean having to face a former wife and a militant attorney waiting to put him through a blender. Having Osterman won over gave access to the ship’s small-arms armory.

The final lists had the first shuttle down as carrying the
Ranger
’s captain and senior officers, the major part of the crew, the hard core of the Milicorp contingent, and some people from Cyrene who were returning on official business. Those left at DSX-14 to await collection by a second shuttle would be the detainees — including the ones who were not planning to return, since there was no logical grounds whereby they could be separated out — a guard detachment, which included as many judged to potentially “friendly” as Callen had been able to have picked, and a skeleton crew under the
Ranger
’s second officer, who would be responsible for post-flight system checks and shutdown prior to handover of the ship to a service crew.

Callen’s rationale for remaining was that he had been specifically entrusted the task of bringing back Wade, and he would remain with his charge until delivery was completed. He had mulled for a long time over what to do about Krieg. He knew of no strong ties or affiliations that should bind Krieg to Earth, but then Krieg had never shown any emotional disposition or attachment toward anything. In the end, he had decided not to put Krieg in the compromising position of having to declare loyalty one way or the other. Callen would wait until the moment came for those returning to Cyrene to divide themselves from those who would remain on the satellite, and let Krieg choose for himself then.

The odds had thus been rendered as favorable as possible. The general feeling was that they could have been far worse. Callen was forced to agree with Shearer that betting high on the hand that gets dealt in life comes more easily when one has had a hand in stacking it.

Shearer sat with Wade and Lang at one of the tables in the detainees’ mess area. Around them, and back at the two bunking rooms, everyone was waiting with topcoats on and personal belongings packed, ready to go. There was little talk. Even those who had opted for Earth were tense now that it was plain that the moment had arrived. Without the constant sensation of power pulsing through the structure, felt more than heard, and the rest of the background to being under way that had become so familiar as to cease registering consciously, the ship seemed dead and still. The only sounds now were the humming of the ventilators and the whines and clunks of unseen machinery securing the docking latches and service umbilicals. There was no reason for delay. Shearer estimated that the first batch to be departing should already be assembling in the core zone of the ship, where the main lock was situated.

The signal to move would be when Callen appeared, accompanied by Osterman, which would mean the bridge had received confirmation of the shuttle’s departure. Earlier, Osterman had concealed caches of pistols and small arms at a number of strategic locations where the breakout groups would be able to retrieve them en route to their designated target areas. First priority was to seize the bridge and communications room before an alarm could be raised. Callen would head for it directly with a picked group, while Osterman led a second to subdue the remaining Milicorp detachment, some of whom he hoped could be induced into collaborating. Lang, meanwhile would lead a third group in a fast rush through to the satellite control center at the top end of the central cylinder, which it was vital to secure before word of trouble arrived. With those objectives attained, the way would be clear for Shearer, Wade, and a guard detail to escort everyone not wishing to return to Cyrene off the ship and onto the satellite to await later collection. At the same time, a technical squad commanded by the former mission ship officers would commence recharging the
Ranger
’s power banks and restocking with water and supplies for the return trip. They expected to have everybody reembarked and to be ready to detach in under an hour.

Never had Shearer known minutes to drag so slowly. He felt clammy, his stomach tight. Somebody farther along the table was drumming his fingers incessantly. Another somewhere behind clenched his teeth audibly every five seconds or so. Anticipating it got to be like listening to a dripping tap. Shearer wanted to scream at him to stop it. Wade caught his gaze and raised his eyebrows resignedly. Emner, who was nearby, leaned forward and murmured quietly.

“I take it, gentlemen, that this is where we part. Good luck to you all. Maybe, one day, I will see you again.” Wade nodded almost imperceptibly.