Шарон Ли - Agent of Change

An idea forming in his mind, he found the description of the wrecked yacht and reread it carefully. Then pushing back from his desk, he strolled to the comm unit by the far wall and punched in the code for Edger's rooms.

The shell-less one answered the call, bowed in recognition, and begged Hostro not to sever the connection while he went to fetch the T'carais. He vanished without waiting for an answer, leaving a garish abstract design on-screen for his caller's contemplation.

Hostro shuddered and turned his eyes to the Belansium planetscape above the comm. He was still absorbed in its study when Edger's voice roused him.

"Justin Hostro? You wished to speak with me?"

He bowed. "Indeed, sir. I am calling to inform you that your kin were overtaken by those of my family to whom I assigned this task. Happily, both are well, though presently not at liberty. I also wished to inform you of my intention to allow them to go free, returning their weapons and giving them a ship in which to continue their journey, since the ship they had been traveling in has, according to the pilot's report, gone into drive spontaneously and vanished."

There was a long pause. "I am pleased that you have given me these tidings, Justin Hostro," Edger said finally, "and would ask that you grant another request."

Hostro bowed. "If it is within my power. sir, certainly."

"I long to hear the voices of my sister and my brother. I would ask that you arrange to have them speak into a recording device before they are restored to liberty and that your kin bring this tape to me when they return."

Justin Hostro smiled. "Nothing could he easier, sir. It shall be done exactly as you have said."

* * *

VAL CON AND MIRI sat on the floor under the menuboard.

"What do you suppose they're waiting for?" he asked, carefully balancing his glass of milk as he eased his back against the wall. "We've been hanging in normal space for days. If the two of us are so valuable, it seems Borg Tanser should waste no time taking us to his boss."

"I don't care if we never go anywhere," Miri told him. "Even if the view is monotonous. Better a little monotony than gettin' hauled up before the big boss. I don't think she likes me too much. Or he. And Justin Hostro don't like either of us. And that's who Tanser works for." She sipped her coffee. "Maybe we'll get time off for good behavior, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that anyone who knows you would grant such a thing."

"You," she said with deep sadness, "are gonna be an evil old man."

"I certainly hope so . . . ."

The door opened, and Borg Tanser strode into the room, gun ready, voicecorder over one shoulder. He dumped the 'corder beside Val Con, who looked up, one brow quirked.

"You know a turtle named Edger?" Tanser demanded. "Claims to be related to you."

"Yes."

"Good, 'cause Hostro's got a deal with the turtle. Includes giving you your weapons and lettin' you go. Seeing as how the rock you were on is gone, we're even gonna give you a ship. Sweet deal, huh?"

When neither of them answered, Tanser shook his head. "Turtle don't trust Hostro. Wants to hear your voices. Wants to hear how nice we been to you and how you're not hurt and how we're gonna let you go, all fair and square." He pointed at the 'corder.

"So you're gonna tell 'im that. Now. In Terran." He pointed his gun at Miri's head. "I said now, Commander!"

Both brows lifted and Val Con set the glass aside, pulled the 'corder onto his lap, and touched the GO button.

"I greet you, brother, and thank you for the lives of myself and the youngest of your sisters. I am to say to you these things, which are true: We are alive and have been well treated, having received food, a place to sleep, and medical aid. I regret that the ship of the Clan has continued its voyage without us. It was undamaged when it left us and should achieve its destination as planned, as it kept course without fail during the seven seasons of its labor." He glanced up, encountered Tanser's glare, and bent again to the device.

"I am also to say that we will be returned our knives and given a ship in which to continue our travels.

"My thanks to you, again, brother, for your care of two of your Clan who are foolish and hasty." He thumbed the OFF stud and looked at Tanser inquiringly.

"Your turn, Sergeant. Sweetness and light, remember."

Miri took the 'corder and punched it on. "Hi, Edger," she began in a singsong monotone completely unlike her usual manner of speaking. "Everything's fine. Wish you were here. Love to the family and see you soon." She banged the OFF switch and shoved the device at Tanser.

He took it by the strap, shaking his head in wonder. "Sergeant, it beats hell out of me how you ever lived this long." He waved the gun at them. "Okay, let's go."

"Go where?" Miri demanded.

"Didn't you just hear? We're givin' you a ship and turnin' you loose. Free citizens, see? The Juntavas keeps its word." He moved the gun again. "Move it."

* * *

MIRI STOOD IN the control room of the wrecked yacht, weaving her belt around her waist and watching the viewscreen. The Juntavas ship was just at the edge of her sight, dwindling rapidly until it disappeared

Sighing, she turned from the screen to where Val Con was lying on his back, fidgeting under the piloting board.

"They're gone," she told him.

He didn't answer, but continued his work. Miri sat on the floor to wait.

Presently, he emerged and sat up, the hair across his forehead damp with sweat.

"Well," she asked, "what's the bad news? We sit here for a couple days till we get bashed by low-flying junk? Or go on at sublight for Volmer?"

He gave her a tired grin. "And arrive as skeletons? The bad news could be worse, in fact. I can do some illegal things with power shunts and cross-currents and get up enough power for one modest Jump."

"One Jump?" She lifted her eyebrows.

"One modest Jump. We won't raise Volmer."

"Well," she said, bumping her elbow on the knife in her belt and frowning. "One Jump's better'n no Jumps. I guess. What do I do to help?"

* * *

THE HUNTING HAD been good since the taking of the Terran yacht, and Commander Khaliiz was pleased. Now it was time to collect the prizes, to return home, to report, and to receive the payment of bounties and the accolades of success.

Commander Khaliiz issued his orders and the ship slid away into the underside of space. Perhaps, he thought, he would allow the new Adjutant the honor of bringing the Terran prize home.

* * *

MIRI SIGHED AND dragged a sleeve across her forehead, surveying the pile of junk she had assembled in the forward hold. Val Con was still in the control room, rearranging the innards of the ship's drive. Miri's task was to lighten the mass they had to move when the time came.

She sighed again as she remembered the location of another useless bit of mass and moved off in that direction.

The dead man weighed a lot, even in the light gravity, and it took her longer than she liked to move him up with the rest of the items to be spaced. Finally, she let him slip gently to the floor and stood, breathing hard, looking down at him, wondering who he might have been, and whether he had had a family.

Family meant something to some people. Like Val Con. And Edger. This man had been Terran, and Terrans did not form into clans. Still, she thought suddenly, turning the new idea around in her head, there might be somebody around who would want to know what had happened to him.

She bent and went through his pockets, removing papers, coins, a flat, flexible metal rectangle that looked as if it belonged in a computer, and a folder of holos featuring a woman and two little boys. Bundling it all together she dumped it in her pouch, then went in search of other junk to space.