The Star Cross (12 page)

“Your missiles travel too slowly,”
commented Grantz, shaking his head in disapproval. “If the defensive batteries
on the battlecruiser were still functioning, they would have easily intercepted
it.”

“Tellurite
battlecruiser is down,” confirmed Lieutenant Brooks, the color returning to her
face.

The
Star
Cross
shuddered slightly as an energy beam from one of the inbound escort
cruisers struck the ship’s shield.

“Grantz,
contact whoever is in charge over there and tell them, if they don’t withdraw
immediately, we’ll destroy their other ships.”

Grantz quickly
stepped back over to the communications console and sent the message.

“The
Tellurites are breaking off,” Lieutenant Brooks reported.

On the tactical
screen, the inbound Tellurite ships came to a stop and then reversed course.

“They agreed,”
Grantz said with a grin. “They apologized for the attack and said it was a misunderstanding.
They didn’t like losing their battlecruiser.”

“Why would
they apologize?” asked Andrew with a frown.

“So you won’t
file a complaint with the Controllers at Kubitz,” Grantz explained. “In a
failed attack, and, if it can be proven the Tellurites were guilty, they are
required to pay for any damages they may have caused.”

Andrew shook
his head in disgust. “That’s one hell of a legal system you have.”

Grantz
shrugged his shoulders. “It works and keeps the peace between the worlds of the
empire.”

“The
Lansing
reports the diagnostic scan is complete, and they did find a small malfunction
with the energy system,” Ensign Pierce reported. “The fault has been corrected,
and they’re ready to jump.”

“Let’s get out
of here, before someone else shows up,” Kurt ordered. “We have one more jump,
and then we’ll make the final one to take us to the Kubitz System.”

“Finally,” Andrew
said, his eyes focusing on the admiral.

“We’re nearly
there,” Kurt said, knowing what Andrew was thinking. “A few more hours and
we’ll reach Kubitz.” Kurt just hoped that all the abductees were still there
and hadn’t already been sold at one of the slave auctions. Grantz had confided
to Kurt that, in all likelihood, the auction hadn’t been held yet, but that
time was growing short.

As the
Star
Cross
and her fleet jumped into hyperspace, Kurt wondered what was ahead of
them. They were in an unknown section of the galaxy depending on an alien,
whose people had nuked Earth, to guide them. So many things could go wrong that
he was afraid to even think about them. Kurt’s eyes shifted over to Grantz, who
was leaving Command Center with Lieutenant Tenner. If the conniving Profiteer
had lied to them, it was doubtful any of them would ever see home again.

“Emergence in
five minutes,” reported Captain Randson, as he waited anxiously for dropout.

“We will be
detected immediately,” Grantz informed Fleet Admiral Vickers. He stood next to
the admiral, observing the activity in the busy Command Center. “The entire
Kubitz System is covered by a series of hyperspace detection satellites.”

“We’ll inform
them that we’re here to make some military purchases and to check out the slave
markets,” spoke up Lieutenant Marvin Tenner. He and the other members of the First
Contact team had spent a lot of time speaking with Profiteer Grantz about the
Kubitz System and what they could expect when they arrived.

“Fleet is at
Condition Two,” added Captain Randson, impatient for them to arrive at their destination.

“All ships
will come to a dead stop once we emerge,” ordered Kurt over the ship-to-ship
comm. “We will make no overtly hostile moves. Once we have established
communication with the Controller station, Profiteer Grantz will explain to
them why we’re here.” Kurt, Grantz, and Lieutenant Tenner had devised a plan
that should allow them to go to Kubitz. Kurt just hoped everything worked out.
It made him nervous being so dependent on the Profiteer and the information he
had provided them.

“It will be
necessary for me to go to the station and pay the fees, so your ships can stay
in the system and be under protection of the Kubitz defense forces,” Grantz
reminded the admiral.

“Lieutenant
Tenner and I will be going with you,” Kurt informed Grantz. He wondered why the
Profiteer was so insistent about them not accompanying him. Was there something
on the station he didn’t want Kurt to find out?

“Emergence,” called
out Ensign Styles.

Kurt felt the
Star
Cross
drop back into normal space. He grew tense waiting for the screens to
clear. Grantz had made it clear that the fleet should leave their energy
shields down and their weapons at minimal power.

“Contacts!”
called out Lieutenant Brooks, as her short-range sensors detected numerous
power sources. “I’m picking up a large number of ships and one truly massive
structure.”

“That would be
the Controller station,” commented Grantz, as he looked over at the admiral.
“They should be hailing us shortly.”

“We’re being
challenged,” Ensign Pierce reported, as a demanding voice came over her comm
console.

“I’m detecting
a squadron of six small warships accelerating toward us,” added Lieutenant
Brooks. “Ships are two hundred meters in length and heavily armed.”

“Kubitz police
ships,” Grantz informed Kurt. “I better explain to them why we’re here and make
arrangements for us to go to the station.”

“Do so,” Kurt
ordered, unhappy that Grantz seemed to be the one in charge of the situation. Kurt
needed to find some way to correct that.

Grantz stepped
to Communications and quickly established contact with the station. He spoke quickly
in the Profiteer language and, at one point, seemed to become aggravated, as if
he were arguing with whomever he was speaking with. He relayed a few more terse
sentences and, at last, appeared satisfied and cut the comm channel.

“It’s done,”
he said. “We may approach the station, and we’re to stop at fifty thousand
kilometers. From there we’re to take a shuttle to the station and pay our
fees.”

“What were you
arguing about?” asked Captain Randson, his eyes focused intently on Grantz. He
didn’t trust the Profiteer.

The Profiteer
laughed and slowly shook his head. “They weren’t happy to see a group of
unknown and obviously heavily armed ships appear unannounced. They were
demanding a fee nearly three times normal. I managed to talk them down to the
normal fee, explaining that you would spend a large number of credits on
Kubitz. Unfortunately I also had to offer a small bribe.”

“A bribe!”
blurted out Andrew, his eyes bulging. “Why a bribe?”

“Everyone
skims from the top,” Grantz explained evenly. “The bribes aren’t large, and the
Controllers are aware of them.”

“Ensign Styles,
take us to fifty thousand kilometers from the station,” Kurt ordered with a
frown covering his face.

It concerned
him that they were already paying bribes. Grantz had casually mentioned this to
Kurt earlier, but he had dismissed it as Grantz merely trying to get his hands
on more gold. They were about to enter a culture they knew very little about.

As the small
fleet moved slowly toward the assigned coordinates, the long-range sensors showed
the rest of the system. Kurt stared in awe at the sight of the Controller station
on the viewscreen, easily forty kilometers in length and ten in width. On its
surface were a number of what looked like small habitable domes, one to two
kilometers in diameter. Around the station were over four hundred ships of
various types in orbit, a count validated by the ship’s sensors. Most of them
anywhere from ten to seventy thousand kilometers out.

One other
thing the sensors reported was that the station was very heavily armed with ion
cannons, energy projectors, and what appeared to be hundreds of hyperspace missile
tubes. In near orbit of the station were twenty squadrons of the small police
ships. Also hundreds of shuttles were traveling back and forth between the ships
in the outer orbits and the station.

“Busy place,”
commented Captain Randson.

Kurt nodded,
as the viewscreens put up images of different ships of every size and
configuration. Some nearly boggled the mind.

“It’s one of
the biggest trading centers in the galaxy,” bragged Grantz. “Many ships come to
Kubitz, because they can buy things here not available anywhere else in the
galaxy.”

“And each has
to pay a fee just to enter the system,” muttered Captain Randson, shaking his
head in disbelief.

After a few more
minutes, Ensign Styles turned toward the admiral. “We’re in position, sir.”

“Very well,”
Kurt said, “let’s board the shuttle and get over to the station.”

“Are you sure
you don’t want an armed escort?” Andrew asked. “We have some Marines I can
assign. We don’t know how safe it will be over there.”

“It might be
wise, Admiral,” added Lieutenant Mays. “I can arrange for a security team.”

“No weapons,”
said Grantz, shaking his head. “They’re strictly forbidden on the Controller
station. You have nothing to worry about. No violence of any kind is allowed.”

“I’m sure
we’ll be safe,” Kurt said, drawing in a deep breath. “Let’s get going.” He
looked around the Command Center as they left, seeing the concerned looks on
the faces of his crew. They were just as worried as he was about their current
situation.

-

Kurt watched
nervously as the small shuttle neared the massive station. He wondered how many
years it had taken to build this monstrosity. It made Newton Station seem
insignificant. Kurt sighed and looked over at Grantz, who sat near the pilot,
giving him instructions for landing. The Profiteer was in constant communication
with the station, as he passed on their directives.

The shuttle entered
a large airlock and shuddered slightly.

“What was
that?” asked Kurt, seeing the startled look on the pilot’s face.

“Atmospheric
retention field,” Grantz answered simply. “It’s a weak energy shield that
prevents the air inside the landing bay from escaping.”

Brilliant
lights illuminated the inside of the massive bay. Hundreds of shuttles were
either docked or sitting on landing platforms. Very few shuttles were identical,
and hundreds of beings moved about.

“We’re to land
on Platform 218,” Grantz informed the pilot. “It’s over there.” Grantz pointed
to a landing area where lights blinked.

The pilot
carefully followed the Profiteer’s instructions and set down the shuttle with scarcely
a jar. “We’re down, sir,” the pilot reported. “Atmosphere outside registers as
near Earth normal.”

“Let’s go,”
Grantz said, standing up. He paused, and looked at Kurt and the lieutenant.
“There will be an armed reception committee, as this is your first time here.
Once the fees have been paid, the armed escort will leave us.”

“This should
be interesting,” Lieutenant Tenner said, as he stood up.

Kurt nodded
his head in agreement and, bending over, picked up a case, which contained two
small gold bars, then looked over at Grantz. “Lead the way.”

Grantz walked
to the back of the shuttle and waited until Lieutenant Tenner pressed the two
buttons to open the airlock. With a whoosh the hatch slid open, and a metal
ramp extended until it touched the platform.

When they
stepped out, Kurt paused and breathed the air. Grantz had assured him that it
was safe. Kurt detected several smells, which he couldn’t identify, but nothing
seemed off. As they walked down the ramp, four armed aliens walked up—vaguely
humanoid with large muscular arms and legs and a squat chest.

“They’re from
Lylan Six,” Grantz explained. “It’s a high-gravity world where many of the
system’s police forces come from. They’re very strong, and you don’t want to
get into a fight with one.”

The one in
front stopped and barked a question at Grantz. The Profiteer answered quickly,
pointing at Kurt and Lieutenant Tenner. Then turning, the humanoid motioned for
them to follow.

“They will
escort us to one of the Controllers,” Grantz explained. “This shouldn’t take
long.”

“Keep your
eyes open,” suggested Lieutenant Tenner, looking around with intense curiosity.
“We need to learn as much about their culture as possible, particular how these
Controllers act.”

Kurt nodded;
he trusted the lieutenant to help guide him through this, if it became
necessary. They were in a situation neither had ever expected to be in.
Lieutenant Tenner had been trained, but Kurt doubted that the lieutenant’s
training had ever taken into account a situation quite like this.

-

As they walked
through the station, Kurt couldn’t help notice all the different alien species.
What really surprised him was that most of them were humanoid and a few
actually resembled humans. Kurt asked Grantz about that.

“It’s a
mystery,” the Profiteer said after a moment. “Most of the races in this section
of the galaxy are humanoid. It makes trading and dealing with the various races
much simpler. There are a few alien races not of humanoid stock, and some of
them do show up here from time to time.”

Kurt nodded;
this explained the interest in the slave trade, particularly if so many races
were humanoid. It didn’t take much longer, and their escorts stopped, motioning
for them to enter a door. Going inside, Kurt was surprised to find a small and efficient-looking
office. Several desks were there, behind which sat the Controllers—easily seven
feet tall and humanoid. Their heads were slightly larger than normal, completely
bald, with eyes of a normal size, though their lips were a little slimmer. Their
bodies were lean, and their hands had six long digits. They were also a little
pale, as if they very seldom saw any sunlight.

Several chairs
of different sizes sat in front of the desks, and one of the Controllers
motioned for them to come over and sit down. The Controller looked at Kurt and
asked a question.

Kurt shook his
head, not understanding what the Controller was saying, and looked over at Grantz.

Grantz said a
few words to the Controller who frowned, shaking his head.

Grantz spoke
again, and once more the Controller didn’t seem to agree with what the
Profiteer was saying.

“What’s
wrong?” asked Kurt, wondering if there was a problem.

“Nothing,”
replied Grantz dejectedly.

The Controller
stood and walked over to a cabinet and took out two small gold chains with a tiny
egg-shaped object attached. Returning, he handed one to Kurt and the other to Lieutenant
Tenner.

“Put them around
your necks,” Grantz said a little gruffly. “You’ll feel a brief moment of
dizziness.”

“What are
these things?” asked Kurt. What had Grantz gotten them into?

“Put them on. You
won’t be harmed,” Grantz promised.

Kurt put the
small chain around his neck and suddenly felt very dizzy and weak. He shook his
head and looked over at Lieutenant Tenner. From his expression, he felt the
same.

“Can you
understand me know?” asked the Controller in perfectly good English.

“Yes,” Kurt
replied, stunned. “How is that possible?”

“The egg-shaped
device is a universal translator,” replied Grantz, looking crestfallen. “It
allows all races to communicate with each other. To me, you’re speaking my language.
To you, it will sound as if we’re speaking your language.”

Kurt instantly
understood why Grantz was so disgruntled. They would no longer have to depend
on him to communicate with the Controllers and others they might meet. Suddenly
the entire situation had been changed.

“Why have you
come to Kubitz?” asked the Controller, getting down to business.

“We wish to
purchase some humans who were taken from our world to be sold at the slave
markets on Kubitz,” Kurt answered promptly.

“A common-enough
request,” the Controller answered, as he entered information on a nearby computer.
“What is your world called, and what are its coordinates?”

“Earth,”
replied Kurt. He looked over at Grantz. “I’m not sure of the coordinates you may
need. Our system of references may be different than yours.”

“I know them,”
Grantz volunteered, as he gave the necessary information to the Controller.

The Controller
entered the information into his computer console and then turned back to Kurt.
“The humans you refer to are to be sold at the primary Kubitz servant auction
in two weeks. They will be sold by the group representing High Profiteer Creed
of planet Marsten. Preliminary estimates are that they will bring an
exceptional price. They will be very expensive for you to purchase.”