Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

“Yeah, Renwald, that’s right. We did what we had to to survive. You and me both. Maybe if you’d taken a chip you wouldn’t be so high and mighty about it now.” Jakus sneered. “Listen, it was sure nice of you to stop by, but I’ve got work to do.”

Legroeder realized he had allowed Jakus to derail him from his point. “You lied to the Guild, Jake. Thanks to you, I’m losing my certificate and getting framed for what happened to the L.A .”

“I’m real sorry about that,” Jakus said.

“Sorry enough to go back and tell the truth? Tell them we both saw Impris? Tell them it was real?”

Jakus shook his head. “I told you already—there’s no way to know what was real and what wasn’t. You thought it was real, and I didn’t. Neither did the captain. I ain’t gonna change my story about that.”

“The pirates were real enough, weren’t they?” Legroeder growled.

“Oh yeah, they were real.” Jakus glanced over his shoulder, as though worried that someone might overhear. “Listen—we’re both damned lucky to have gotten away at all. Maybe you’re losing your certificate—not that I have one anymore, either—but at least you got away alive. Isn’t that more important than your certificate? You can still work.”

“Work? More likely, they’ll lock me away for life. If they don’t mindwipe me instead.”

Jakus shrugged. “Whatever.”

Legroeder glared into the oppressive gloom of the hangar, his thoughts burning. “So that’s it? You’re going to let them frame me?”

Jakus shrugged. “If you want to put it that way. Now, like I told you, I gotta get back to work.”

“Yeah.” Legroeder made no attempt to hide his disgust. “You get back to work. See you around, Jake.” He turned away.

“You don’t know what the truth is! ” Jakus called after him. His words were punctuated by a loud metallic slam.

Legroeder glanced back; Jakus had climbed back into the sim and slammed the door shut. Legroeder angrily strode away, alongside the half-assembled spaceships. What the hell was going on here? Why was it so important to someone that he take the fall for the L.A .? It was obvious this wasn’t just Jakus’s doing. It seemed to be coming from somewhere in the Spacing Authority. But what conceivable connection could there be between the Spacing Authority and a lowlife like Jakus?

As he made his way back toward the front of the hangar, he also began wondering what sort of a shipping firm would use the services of a place like this. He couldn’t imagine a respectable company letting a contract here. He stared at the ships for a moment, then realized what was bothering him. They looked… armored. A glint of light from a single overhead lamp reflected off the hull plates with a greenish sheen, almost the color of oxidized copper. It wasn’t obvious, and he might not have noticed if he hadn’t just spent seven years around raider warships. But that looked like arnidium hull armor, very hard and resistant to radiation. With a surreptitious glance around, Legroeder crouched to peer beneath the nearest ship.

Not much to see—a number of closed bays on the underbelly of the craft. He looked beyond, to the next vessel; he could see the feet of a worker moving around with a work light. With a mechanical hiss, a bay door opened beneath the far ship. Legroeder squatted lower, trying to get a good look. The feet moved left, then right. The light flickered. For an instant, he caught a glimpse into the just-opened bay. A weapons compartment . He caught sight of three slim shapes—dark, sleek and oily-looking. Then the light moved away, leaving darkness. He heard the hiss of the bay door closing.

Legroeder rocked back on his haunches, letting his breath out slowly. Those were flux-torpedoes, he was nearly certain. Now, what the hell was a ship like that, in a place like this, doing with flux-torpedoes? The vessel bore no markings of police or navy. So what was it? Undercover? Criminal? Right here at the main spaceport? How could the Spacing Authority let that kind of thing slip by their security… unless they knew?

Legroeder rose silently from his crouch. The sooner he got out of here the better. As he started walking again, he saw the worker with the photonic torch moving between the two ships; that must have been the man who’d opened and shut the weapons bay. The man looked at him without friendliness, and stared as Legroeder walked on, heart pounding, toward the front exit.

As he paused near the office door, Legroeder heard footsteps, then a bang of metal. An unfamiliar voice shouted Jakus’s name; Jakus shouted back. Legroeder stood in the darkness, listening. As the voices rose in heated argument, he bit his lip. What have I done? Without quite knowing why, he started edging back the way he had just come. Moving alongside the nearer ship, he tried to make out the conversation. He caught his own name—then Jakus yelling, “—didn’t tell him anything!” The voices became more muffled. He strained to hear the rest of the argument, thought he heard the word Impris . The anger in the voices was unmistakable, and made the speech hard to understand. Then… there was a bone-jarring thump and a prolonged moan. That was followed by a third voice in a language Legroeder didn’t understand—Veti Alphan, maybe. There was another thump, and the cry of pain cut off. Then footsteps, moving away. What the hell was going on?

S tay out of it, Legroeder .

But he couldn’t just walk away, could he? Someone had obviously overheard his argument with Jakus.

God damn it . He looked around for something, anything, that he might use to defend himself. Nothing. Cursing silently, he crept back toward the simulator pods. The door to the third sim was open, light pouring out. He pressed his lips together. Maybe he could act as if he’d come back for something he forgot. “Jakus, you still there?” he called softly. No answer; but a door slammed shut way in the back of the hangar.

“Jakus?” He peered into the sim pod. It was empty, but the controls were still on, the screens flickering with a simulation in progress. On the floor was Jakus’s hat, its brim bent. Legroeder picked it up and examined it in the light of the sim chamber. There was a dark, wet stain along the headband. Blood, it looked like.

Legroeder looked around nervously. The hangar seemed completely deserted now. He bent to peer under the ships. No one. Now he heard distant doors and vehicles outside. Someone leaving? With Jakus, maybe? Legroeder circled around the stern of the third ship, toward the rear of the hangar. There were spacecraft maintenance tools scattered all over, and the smell of ozone and vacuum-grade lubricants. In the far corner, a dim hallway led away from the hangar area. He hesitated, before moving toward it. The hallway was short. A dim emergency light glowered, revealing two doors on the right side, and one at the end.

Legroeder drew an uneasy breath. This was stupid. What would he do if he found someone? Still… he’d come this far. He stepped into the hallway. What were these—storerooms? Offices? Armories? One of the two doors bore a dirt-encrusted warning sign: CAUTION—STAIRS. He tested it cautiously: locked. He exhaled softly. Beyond the end door, he heard traffic sounds. It was a steel door with a push-release, and a security panel beside it. With a nervous glance at the security panel, he pushed the door open.

Cool night air greeted him, along with the sound of a truck whirring past. He stood at the top of a short flight of steps: early evening darkness, some empty loading docks; not much else. Spaceport lights glowed in the distance. If Jakus had walked or been carried out, he was gone now. Legroeder started to turn back through the door.