The Prison in Antares (6 page)

“That we couldn't approach Antares in a Democracy ship,” she replied.

“Right,” said Pretorius. “She didn't have to be a genius to figure that out. Hell, we're at war with the Transkei Coalition, and they're part of it. There's no way we can disguise this one, so we might as well go about getting a ship that won't get us blown out of the sky when we approach Antares.”

“Just a minute,” said Snake. “If Proto is able to appear as an officer from Six, the guy must have had a ship there. Why don't we just steal it?”

“Yeah,” Proto chimed in. “I mean, we know he was there.”

Pretorius shook his head. “No, we can't cause her any trouble. Get one of her customers killed there—either the officer or just some concerned citizen—and she might never deal with the Democracy again.” He paused. “Besides, there are seven of us, eight once we grab Nmumba and make our way back to base. I saw
one
officer from Antares Six, not eight. The likelihood is that his ship wouldn't be able to accommodate us all, even if we could steal it with no repercussions.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” admitted Proto.

“Maybe that's why Nathan is in charge,” said Circe with a smile.

“I suppose we could just enter Coalition space, get as close to Antares as we dare, attract a ship, and kill or capture it,” said Pretorius, “but I can think of twenty things that can go wrong, most of them fatal. It's too damned chancy.” He turned to Pandora. “Find us a planet or system near the edge of the Neutral Zone where we can reasonably expect to find some Antareans, preferably nonmilitary.”

Pandora began issuing orders to her computer, then looked up. “Do the Antareans have to be from Antares Six?” she asked.

“It's preferable. Why?”

“Because it's got a population of a couple of million, while Antares Two has maybe eighty million and Antares Three's got upward of ten billion.”

“Okay, I see your point,” said Pretorius. He lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked up. “Hell, they've got to be used to seeing ships from other planets in the same star system. Sure, any ship that's equipped to handle us and comes from any of the Antares planets should do the trick.”

“That makes it a little easier,” said Pandora, still bent over her computer. A moment later she looked up. “Does it have to have military insignia?”

“I think we're better off without a military ship,” replied Pretorius after considering it for a moment. “I'd like the armaments, but there are dozens of Antarean and Coalition protocols we're unaware of, and if we give a wrong answer to a military unit or spaceport we could get blown to bits.” He paused, considering their options. “No, the one thing we don't need to do is get into a shooting war with any part of the Coalition fleet, either at Antares or on the way to or from there. See if you can find us a ship, within twenty percent of this size, and I don't know how the hell you can measure fuel consumption with your computer, but I'd like to think that once we leave Antares we won't have to renew the nuclear pile or whatever the hell it's using until we get back to the Democracy.”

“All right, I'll see what I can do,” said Pandora.

“And while I'm thinking of it, try and find a ship with a computer that can do pretty much what yours can do. What's the point of having the best hacker in the Democracy if all she's got is the equivalent of an adding machine and map reader?”

“Nate, there's just so much I can scrutinize before they know they're
being
scrutinized, and that blows the whole operation.”

“Okay, okay,” said Pretorius. “Why am I telling
you
what to do? Just let me know when you've found us a vessel.”

“Hopefully without too many soldiers guarding it,” added Ortega.

They sat around making small talk for a few minutes while Pandora kept issuing orders to the ship's computer. Finally she turned and faced the rest of them.

“Okay, I've found what we need,” she announced.

“What have you got?” asked Pretorius.

“Miga, the third planet in the Brynne system.”

“Where is it?”

“About six light-years this side of the Coalition's border,” said Pandora. “But it's very near the Trodok Wormhole—at least, I think that's how it's pronounced—that'll get us more than halfway to Antares.”

“And what makes this world the one we want?”

“First off, it's an oxygen world, pretty much the same content as Antares Six, a little thin, but breathable. It's a farming world, and a reasonably productive one, so there's a constant flow of ships in and out of it. Right now there are two ships from the Antares system, one from Two and one from Six, each about the right size, one on the ground, one docked at an orbiting hangar. There's quite an active Tradertown where the one on the ground is, maybe five hotels and guesthouses, a few bars, the usual.”

“Sounds good,” said Pretorius. “How soon can we get there?”

“If the damned Billermein Wormhole will just stop moving for another few hours, I can have us there in seven Standard hours,” answered Pandora.

“Put us in gear and let's get moving,” he said.

“Hell,” added Ortega, “even if the two Antarean ships are gone, they figure to have more shortly.”

“They'd better
not
be gone,” said Pretorius.

Ortega looked at him questioningly.

“Don't forget,” said Pretorius. “We don't know what they're doing to Nmumba, or how much longer he can hold out.”

“If he hasn't broken,” added Snake.

“If he hasn't broken,” agreed Pretorius.

9

When they were still two light-years away, they were able to bring up an image of Miga, a nondescript little world, the third of five planets circling the G-type yellow star of Brynne. It had a single mountain range, a freshwater ocean, a few major rivers and a number of minor ones. It possessed a Tradertown with a population of about ten thousand, and half a dozen even smaller villages—headquarters for the farming communities, actually—and not much else. There was no gold beneath its surface, no fissionable materials, no diamonds, and not enough silver to bother with.

Because it was in the Neutral Zone it was populated primarily by Men or their mutated descendants, plus a few other races, none of them members of the Democracy or the Transkei Coalition.

“So what do you think?” said Ortega, staring at the readout that Pandora had transferred to a screen for all of them to see.

“Looks like a world,” replied Pretorius. “Nothing special to its name that I can tell.”

“Then this is the place we want?” asked Pandora.

“Yeah, we're almost certainly not going to find anything more to our liking, especially this close to the Coalition.” Pretorius stared at the figures. “Total planetary population, 17,273. And they draw a couple of ships a week?”

“At least,” said Pandora.

“Must have a shitload of robots and machinery to produce that much,” he said. “What are their major exports?”

“Mutated grains that are geared to the Antarean Three and Six digestive systems,” she replied.

“Okay,” said Pretorius. “Start checking out the ships. Are they all Antarean, or are there some others from within the Coalition? And are the ones that are clearly Antarean all military?”

“And if not,” added Snake, “are they accompanied by the military?”

“I'm checking,” said Pandora.

“If you can access their records for the spaceport and the hangar, go back a month and see every kind of ship that's gone there, transacted some business, and then gone back into the Coalition. I'd like to see if we can confiscate something other than a small military vessel. If we have to establish visual contact with anyone, Proto will look like . . . well, like Proto in his natural state, and the rest of us are clearly Men.”

“Give me a couple of minutes to check.”

“I have a question,” said Irish.

“Shoot,” said Pretorius. Suddenly he smiled. “You should pardon the expression.”

“Does it make much difference what kind of ship we steal?” she asked. “I mean, military or commercial?”

“You ask that as if they're all sitting in a line waiting for us to appropriate one of them,” responded Pretorius. “We'll take what we can get, and improvise from there. There are advantages and disadvantages to both.”

“Since I've never been on a mission before, may I ask what they are?”

“If we swipe a military ship, we'll almost certainly have to kill the captain and crew to stop them from reporting it,” said Pretorius. “Also, we're likely to be hassled a lot less in space. Once we touch down on Antares Six, or even approach it, we're going to have to come up with a reason why our video communications system isn't working, because if they get a look at us in control of an Antarean military vessel, it'll take 'em about three seconds to give the order to open fire on us.”

“Then clearly we want a commercial ship,” said Irish.

“Not necessarily,” replied Pretorius. “If it's a commercial ship, we're likely to be stopped and boarded by any military vessel that finds us suspicious, or is just out to impress its superiors, or just wants to grab some grain or whatever the hell they think we're carrying.”

“Not a plethora of happy choices,” commented Circe.

“If there were, they'd have given the job to someone else,” said Pretorius.

“And those are our only choices?” persisted Irish.

“No,” he said. “We can try approaching in this ship.”

“Don't be silly,” said Snake. “They'll shoot the second they spot us.”

“Not if we're offering to surrender.”

“To
what?
” she demanded.

“If I think there's a chance we'll be incarcerated where they've got Nmumba stashed, it's an option I at least have to consider.”

“So assuming they don't kill any of us on the way to the prison, you think eight of us, including Nmumba, can break out of jail where he couldn't alone?”

“I didn't say it would be easy, or even possible,” replied Pretorius. “I said it's an option, and it's my duty to consider all our options.”

“Good,” said Snake. “Let's consider sitting out the war on Calliope or some other pleasure planet and let the Democracy develop another Nmumba. I mean, hell, if he can neutralize a Q bomb and we've got close to a trillion citizens, let them find someone else who can.”

“I'll take it under consideration,” he said with an amused smile.

“Got it!” said Pandora, staring at her computer.

“And?” replied Pretorius.

“There are two cargo vessels in orbit, another parked in the orbiting hangar. One military ship at the local spaceport, but I don't think we can fit more than three of us into it, four tops . . . and even given that Proto's true shape takes up almost no space, there are still six of us.”

“Any other ships approaching it?”

“Not at the moment,” answered Pandora, “at least not that I can spot.”

“Can you hack into their spaceport's computer without being spotted, and see if any other military ships are expected?” asked Pretorius.

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that it's a more sophisticated machine than you'd expect for such a little world,” replied Pandora. “I'm not saying that it's military. I mean, hell, it's in the Neutral Zone, so why would either side's military give it such a complex and expensive machine? I'm just saying that I don't think it's worth taking a chance.”

“You're the computer expert,” said Pretorius. “I'm sure as hell not going to argue with you.”

“Then do we proceed?”

He paused in thought for a moment. “The military ship's too small to be transporting anything but its crew, and maybe some knick-knacks they pick up in town, right?”

She nodded. “Whatever a knick-knack is.”

“So they have no overt reason to stick around. Maybe they're refueling, more likely they're grabbing drinks or a meal.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I know time is of the essence, but so is surviving. We'll stay where we are for another six hours, hope they've gone, and proceed to Miga. If they're still there, we'll try to blow them apart before they know what hit them, and then we'll have to pacify the locals while we steal a ship.” He paused. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll be much happier if they've left before we show up.” He leaned back on his chair. “Wake me in five hours.”

10

“So what have we got?” asked Pretorius as the image of Miga filled the viewscreen.

“The military vessel's gone, and there's only one ship worth stealing,” answered Pandora, checking her computer. “It's a large, powerful vessel of Antares Six registry. Definitely not military.”

“Good,” said Pretorius. “We don't need to take on a large warship. How much crew does it hold?”

She shrugged. “It's large, but it's clearly not a passenger ship. I'd say it holds ten, possibly a dozen.”

“And it's in the Tradertown's spaceport?”

“Right,” replied Pandora. “As near as I can tell, they stopped off for some r-and-r. There's nothing in the town that requires a ship with that kind of power.”

“Okay,” he said. “That sounds like what we're after. Take us down. Once we've got it we can equip it with our weaponry and your computer, and it won't alert or scare any Antarean navy ships. Take us down, and park us as near our target as possible.” He looked around the deck. “Felix, Proto, Circe, you're coming with me.” He paused, then shrugged. “You too, Irish. Maybe you can learn something from one of these bastards that'll help you when we get our hands on Nmumba.”