Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

“I’m sorry,” Kalm-Lieu said.

So am I . “What’s my next step?”

Kalm-Lieu’s eyes darted around the room uneasily. “I’m sorry, but I am no longer permitted to advise you. They’ve taken me off your case.”

Legroeder felt his breath go out. “You mean I’m just left to twist in the wind?”

Kalm-Lieu gestured awkwardly. “That’s not the way I want it, but—”

“But that’s the way it is , isn’t it?” Legroeder gestured toward the empty hearing table, the fury rising at last in his voice. “You mean you can’t even tell me what’s supposed to happen next? Who do I get to represent me with the Spacing Authority? What am I supposed to do now?”

“You’re free to hire counsel, of course.” Kalm-Lieu lowered his voice, and looked as though he were going to shrink away altogether. “Perhaps I could recommend someone—”

“Hire counsel?” Legroeder thundered. “I’ve been a prisoner in Golen Space for seven years, and I have nothing but the shirt on my back, and you tell me I can hire counsel? ”

“I understand how you must feel—”

“Oh, do you?” Legroeder snapped. He shouted toward the front of the room. “Do you understand what it’s like to be betrayed by the people who are supposed to be defending you? Do you understand that?”

“Please. This won’t help.”

“Then what will? Sitting here arguing RiggerGuild code, instead of trying to find out why they’re blaming me for what a band of pirates did to my ship?”

Kalm-Lieu’s face was filled with remorse. Two security agents had appeared at Legroeder’s side. “I’m afraid,” Kalm-Lieu said, “you’ll have to stay in confinement with the Spacing Authority until your hearing. Unless you can post bond…” His hands fluttered helplessly.

Legroeder snorted in disgust. Post bond? With what? Even his back salary from the owners of Ciudad de los Angeles was in escrow until the matter was settled. He shook his head once—and without another word, strode out of the hearing room, the guards close behind.

Only a few people were being held at the Spacing Authority holding center at the time of Legroeder’s arrival: two small-time smugglers and an orbital tug pilot being held for a license violation. It was rare for a rigger to be kept there, since riggers usually fell under the protection of the Guild; if they were detained at all, it was generally at RiggerGuild quarters. Legroeder felt humiliated, being held like a common criminal.

At least it wasn’t a cell. They’d put him in a small room with a bunk, granting him some privacy and a com-console linked to the center’s library, but few amenities beyond that. The primary amenity it lacked was freedom. He spent the first few days exercising until he ached, trying to regain muscle tone after the long journey cooped in the scout ship. The guards looked on, bemused, as he cycled the exercise machines over and over through their full range of movement: stretches, lifts, crunches, steps… until he was puffing with exhaustion. When he wasn’t working out, he was mostly lost in grim thought, worrying about Maris, and trying to understand how an escape from the pirates of Golen Space could have brought him to this.

How could he possibly be accused of trying to give Ciudad de los Angeles —“City of the Angels”—into the hands of the pirates, even if he had made an error in judgment while rigging? How could he have known that Golen Space raiders were hiding behind the phantom ship, waiting to strike? He hadn’t even been in command. Captain Hyutu was the one who’d given the order to approach Impris .

And yet, he found himself almost beginning to doubt his own actions. Many had died; and many more had endured, and continued to endure, captivity among the Golen Space pirates. Few if any would escape as Legroeder had. He could only hope, forlornly, that those remaining behind would not suffer reprisals because of his escape.

By the end of his third day of confinement, there was still no word on the beginning of his hearing. Kalm-Lieu was gone, and Legroeder had done nothing about finding new legal assistance. He did spend some time on the com-console, running searches through the RiggerGuild finder service to see if any of his old rigger friends happened to be on Faber Eridani. The closest he found was a stopover six months ago by a rigger he’d known casually ten years before. It didn’t look as though he would find help from any friends here.

Faber Eridani! he thought. Why’d I have to pick Faber Eridani? But really, where else could he have gone?

All this mulling was getting him nowhere. He dumped his cup of cold coffee into the sink and returned to sit at the tiny desk beside his bed. He stared at the seascape holo on the wall, a painting of a ship in a storm, and thought, Ghost ship. It wasn’t a damn ghost. But who will believe me? Who—?

“Renwald Legroeder!” A voice outside in the hall.

Legroeder sat up, blinking. What the hell time was it? Morning… he didn’t even remember getting into bed, much less going to sleep.

“Rigger Legroeder!” repeated the voice, closer now.

Legroeder stared at the locked door. “Yeah! What is it?”

The door clicked and opened. Vinnie, the tall, skinny guard, stepped in. He was half human and half some kind of Trakon hybrid, built like a rail with bulging hips and shoulders. A weird-looking alien guard dog stood at his side, rumbling from the back of its throat. The guard claimed it was just a purr, but Legroeder had never wanted to test the claim. Vinnie grinned. “Wake you up?”

Legroeder shrugged.

Vinnie chuckled, tugging at a strand of cordlike hair. “An easy life, eh—sleeping in whenever you want? Well, it’s coming to an end. Gather up your things. You’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” Legroeder struggled to his feet. “Why, are they transferring me somewhere?”

Vinnie’s laugh sounded like a twang. “The hex, no. You’re free on bail.”

“Bail? I haven’t posted any bail.”

“Someone did it for you.”

Legroeder stared at him, uncomprehending.

“What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy as a pig in the dew.”

“I am happy. Don’t I look happy? Who was it?”

The guard unclipped a compad from his breast pocket and consulted it. “Says here the name’s Harriet Mahoney. Friend of yours?”

“Never heard of her.” Legroeder blinked in bewilderment. “Who is she?” His mind raced through possibilities and came up blank. Could it have been some forgotten affair, from years ago? Ridiculous. He’d only been on this planet a few times, and certainly had never had an affair here.

Vinnie seemed to read his thoughts, and winked. “Well, she’s a real looker, if you ask me.”

Legroeder frowned, then shrugged. Out was out, so what did he care? He grabbed the duffel bag a kind soul at the Guild had given him, and began to pack. It didn’t take long.

“Ready?”

Legroeder shouldered the bag, stepped carefully around the guard dog, and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

As Legroeder was being processed out through the Spacing Authority lobby, he peered around for anyone he might recognize. It wasn’t until he had passed through the security barriers and filled out six or seven forms without reading them that he heard the name Mahoney again, and turned to see who was attached to it. He followed Vinnie into a small room off to one side of the lobby. An older woman rose from a plastic chair to greet him. Her face, lined with years, was slightly reddish as though sunburned, and her hair was mostly silver, with streaks of black. She wore tastefully designed chrome-rimmed glasses. She was old enough to be his grandmother. Legroeder glanced at Vinnie, who winked. A real looker . But she moved with an energy that Legroeder did not associate with older women. “Renwald Legroeder?” She extended a hand. “I’m Mrs. Harriet Mahoney. I’ve arranged for your release.”