The Sheriff of Yrnameer (14 page)

“No,” said Cole. “We’re in the wrong place. Unless the flight computer is wrong, that’s the Greys’ planet. We got pulled out of bendspace by a Siren signal.”

“What’s a Siren signal?”

“It’s a very powerful distress signal that you can only use as a last resort,” said Nora.

“Oh,” said Joshua. “So we have to help them.”

“Yes,” said Nora, “we do.”

“No,” said Cole, “we don’t. But we do have to help ourselves.”

They turned to him.

“We need fuel. We were low to begin with, and we burned most of that with our little dance with Kenneth. We don’t get more, and we won’t be able to bend.”

They were hovering about a kilometer from the Success!Sat. They hadn’t been able to raise anyone on the communication system, although a scan showed the life-support systems were still functioning in much of the satellite.

“You want to go on board there?” asked Bacchi.

“Have to,” said Cole. “We dock, someone goes inside, finds out if there’s a way to operate the refueling pumps.”

“And see if we can help the people on board,” added Nora.

“Uh-huh,” said Cole.

They had to reconform the ship again to its launch position before they could dock, the gravity vanishing as they did so. They connected to the Success!Sat via the air lock on the dorsal surface of the Benedict, the artificial gravity returning as they piggybacked on the satellite’s rotation.

Joshua volunteered to be the one to go on board, an offer that was immediately vetoed by Nora, who glared at Cole for not voicing his opposition quickly enough.

“No, no, absolutely not,” said Cole weakly. “Of course, I could probably talk him through it. …”

Eventually, Cole agreed that he himself would go. Nora insisted on going with him. Joshua still wanted to go, but Nora wouldn’t let him. Philip wanted to stay and watch the kids, which both Nora and Cole agreed would be best. Bacchi wanted to stay behind as well. Cole, picturing Bacchi sealing the ship after them, decided that would be a bad idea.

So in the end it was Cole, Nora, and Bacchi who boarded the satellite, after a brief delay for Philip to lecture them on the culturally
correct manner to refer to the Greys, and then another brief delay for Nora to administer the Heimlich to Philip.

She led Cole and Bacchi up the ladder and out of the air-lock hatch, berating Cole nonstop for having handed the nearly fatal sandwich back to Philip and encouraging him to try to pronounce “Qx”-x-’–” again—”Really, you were
so
close.” They were making their way down an entrance corridor in the satellite, Nora still grousing, when Cole realized the three of them were actually four.

“I got a little confused back there,” said Cole to Joshua, “but didn’t we decide that you were going to stay on the ship?”

They were in a huddle, with Nora sternly ordering Joshua back to the Benedict, and Joshua insisting he should come along, when Charlie Perkins said, “Hello.”

His handshake was firm, his smile warm, his welcome sincere. He insisted they call him Charlie. He thanked them effusively for coming to check on the satellite and apologized for having so rudely pulled them out of bendspace, explaining that the Siren signal had been sent out in error.

He kept up a disarming, cheerful patter as they followed him along the gently curving corridors, telling them about how the unexpected debris in their assigned orbital layer had smashed into the satellite, damaging several rings and the comlink system, and how they’d had to change orbits unexpectedly and wasn’t it lucky that no one had been injured because the trainees weren’t expected to arrive for another week and once again how kind it was for them to respond to the signal.

“Really, I feel just terrible interrupting your journey like that. Of
course
we can help you refuel—it’s the least we could do.”

Cole wasn’t interested in what Charlie was saying. He was interested in how he was saying it. As an inveterate and well-practiced liar, Cole felt almost embarrassed by the sheer amateurishness of Charlie’s delivery. From the very moment they shook hands, Cole knew Charlie would be serving them up large bowls of fresh steaming farg, and he hadn’t been disappointed.

He was, however, disappointed in Nora. She seemed to be buying it completely, beaming at Charlie as he spread it on thicker and thicker.

“Intergalactic relief work? Really? That’s fascinating,” Charlie was saying to her now, touching her arm. “I have such respect for you.”

“Oh, it’s really nothing,” she said, and Cole was certain that she actually batted her eyes.

“No, it’s wonderful! I’d actually planned to go into that line of work, but …,” said Charlie, gesturing to himself and his surroundings apologetically. “Maybe someday. You think there’s hope for me?”

“Absolutely!” said Nora, and the two of them laughed.

Unbelievable. Surely she wasn’t falling for this clown, with his brush-cut hair and casual khakis. Cole shook his head and looked around for a partner to share in a little cynical glance exchanging, but found no takers.

He couldn’t blame Joshua, who probably couldn’t identify a lie because he’d likely never uttered one. But
Bacchi?
For farg’s sake, Bacchi made
Cole
look honest. Surely
he
could tell that Charlie was full of it.

But what was Bacchi doing now? Prompting Charlie to tell him yet more about the design features of the Success!Sat. Bacchi listened raptly as Charlie went on at length about the Malganite girders. Cole shook his head again, mystified, unaware that Bacchi was a dedicated viewer of
The Galaxy’s Largest Construction Projects
.

Cole tuned out. Their footsteps were quiet on the pile carpeting. The walls were attractive and well-researched earth tones, decorated at regular intervals with inoffensive and instantly forgettable art. Occasionally words and phrases would coalesce on the walls and then gently dissipate like clouds, the letters two feet tall:
Integrity … Serving the Customer … Best in Class. …

Cole paused to peer down a branching side corridor. What was that, there at the dimly lit far end? It looked like—

“Nope, not that way,” said Charlie from up ahead. “Right this way, Cole. Cole, correct?”

“Right,” said Cole nodding, still looking down the side corridor as he started walking again. “Right,” he repeated, distracted, “Cole.”

He was starting to feel uneasy. He glanced back again, and his uneasiness doubled.

“It’s funny you arrived when you did—I’m expecting a whole fleet of repair vessels any moment now,” Charlie was saying.
“You didn’t happen to send out any other distress calls, did you? Wouldn’t want to bother people unnecessarily.”

“Well, we—,” began Nora.

“Charlie, how big is this thing again?” asked Cole, interrupting her. She twisted to look at him quizzically.

“Oh, it’s big, Cole. Six layers, room for five thousand …”

It wasn’t the lying in and of itself that was making Cole nervous. The lying was to be expected under the circumstances. Charlie’s company had obviously screwed the poog something royal, and they didn’t want bad press and prying investigators and shorted stock. Cole had even briefly entertained the idea of offering a helpful service to Vericom in the form of keeping his mouth shut in exchange for a very reasonable sum of money. But for now he put those plans aside.

He was nervous in part because of what he thought he’d glimpsed at the poorly illuminated far end of the corridor he’d been peering down, something that might have been a misshapen sack lying on the floor.

What was really making him nervous, though, was the five Greys that had started following them.

They were lingering back, far enough that no one else seemed to notice them. Cole noticed them. He particularly noted the manner in which they fell into step behind them, with the ostentatiously casual, bored demeanor universal to thugs wishing to send the message that they were casual because they were bored, and bored because they were just waiting for the violence to start. And when the violence did start, they wouldn’t be on the receiving end.

One of them also had a sidearm. That helped with the latter part of the message.

Cole had no doubt they were with Charlie. And that meant Charlie was probably lying to cover up something much, much worse than standard corporate malfeasance.

Cole started to reconsider the odd birthmark he’d glimpsed on Charlie’s left temple. At the time it had almost seemed like a small corporate logo, a stylized blue V. Now he was pretty sure that’s what it was, and he was praying that Charlie’s lying didn’t have anything to do with it.

He desperately wanted to get near enough to Bacchi to quietly ask him if he’d ever played Qualtek 3, but Cole doubted he could
pry him away from Charlie, who was deep into a description of the Success!Sat’s gyroscopic stabilization system.

“Have you ever played Qualtek 3?” he whispered instead to Joshua.

“Is it a video game?”

“Yes, the one where the brain implant has turned everyone into cannibals, and—”

“I’ve never played a video game,” said Joshua.

They were abusing these children, is what they were doing.

Charlie led them to a medium-size conference room decorated in more well-researched earth tones, and invited them to sit around the lozenge-shaped table. Soothing music played softly from hidden speakers, the volume calibrated to keep it just on the edge of awareness. The lighting was muted and pleasant. The chairs were comfortable.

As he went from person to person, placing cold drinks in front of them, Charlie said, “You know, I forgot what you said earlier—did you folks send out any sort of other distress call?”

“No, we didn’t,” said Nora.

“Yes, we did,” said Cole at the same time.

Nora turned back to him. “Cole, what are you talking about?”

“I sent out a signal before we left the ship. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

Most likely everything was fine. What was probably going to happen, Cole kept telling himself, would be that they’d have a nice, pleasant chat with Charlie, and he’d refuel their ship and they’d get on their way and that would be that.

Except he didn’t believe it. Which is why he would have preferred to keep Charlie guessing, keep him wondering if more people were coming, not knowing for sure. Make it harder for him to decide on a course of action one way or the other. But better Charlie thought help was coming versus knowing it wasn’t.

Behind him Cole could hear the ruffle of some playing cards and low murmuring as the Greys continued their game of Degas Hold ’em. What was that saying again? “Gambling like a Grey,” or something like that.

The Greys had filed into the room a minute or so after them, and
gone to sit around a smallish table in the corner. Cole got a better look at the sidearm as they passed—a Firestick 17, for official use only. A soldier’s weapon. He wondered where it came from.

“He’s got a gun!” Joshua whispered to him.

“No kidding,” said Cole.

“Don’t mind them,” said Charlie. “We try to be good neighbors,” he said, directing this to Nora. “We’ve worked very hard to make sure that the satellite is staffed with local hires.” He dropped the volume of his voice a bit, sharing a little secret. “Sometimes, we have to learn to accept the local customs and mores.”

“That’s very conscientious of you,” said Nora, smiling at him.

Charlie returned the smile, then licked his lips. It was, Cole thought, at least the tenth time he’d done that. It was starting to bother him. That and the logo and the Greys.

It couldn’t be, he thought.

He turned his head to check on the Greys. They seemed focused on their cards, but the one with the gun shifted slightly, adjusting the holster so that the weapon was more easily accessible. Cole turned back to Charlie.

“So, what exactly have you been doing up here?” he asked him.

“Getting ready to launch a new product. Can’t tell you what it is, but believe me—things are gonna get really interesting,” said Charlie.

“I bet,” said Cole.

He glanced over at Nora, meeting her gaze, flicked his gaze back to Charlie, and then back at her meaningfully. Her eyes narrowed. Cole repeated the look, widening his eyes for emphasis. Nora cocked her head slightly to one side. Cole casually scratched his own forehead on the location of Charlie’s logo. Nora shook her head subtly. Cole bit his own finger, glaring at her, trying to will her to understand. Now she was looking at him like he was crazy. Cole grimaced.

“I certainly hope you can stay for a while,” said Charlie. “At least for a few days.”

“Actually, we have to get going,” said Cole, before Nora could answer. “You think we could get that fuel from you?”

“Cole,” said Nora reproachfully. “I have to apologize for my colleague’s behavior. But he’s right—we have several dozen children that we have to—”

“Did you say children?” said Charlie eagerly, leaning forward.

“Charlie,” interrupted Cole, “you wouldn’t have any idea how the markets did, would you?”

Nora turned to Cole. “Cole, I’m not sure this is the time to talk about—why are you stepping on my foot?”

Cole concentrated very hard on not screaming.

“You follow the markets, Charlie?” he said.

“Absolutely!” said Charlie.

“Cole, you’re behaving very oddly,” said Nora.

“I’m just asking a question!”

“Why is he asking about the markets?” said Nora to Bacchi.

“Just checking on the old portfolio,” said Cole. “Could you see how D-Max did?” said Cole.

“Let me check on that for you,” said Charlie. He glanced off for a few moments. “D-Max was down three—”

Cole’s water glass tumbled over and shattered as Cole stood abruptly and drew Nora’s gun, the water sheeting across the tabletop onto Charlie’s lap, the gun barrel six inches from his face.

The room was very still; the others were rigid in surprise. Cole’s chair lay on the carpeted floor behind him where it had fallen. The Greys had stopped their game. Cole could hear Joshua taking short, shallow breaths.

Charlie glanced down at his pants, and then back up to Cole. “I think,” he said, “I’m going to need to change.”