Deadly Relations: Bester Ascendant (36 page)

Johnston was the color of chalk.

“They’ll know you did it. They’ll kill you, too.”

“No. They won’t. In fact, I’m going to be injured trying to save you. Isn’t that nice? And then - we’ll see about the rest. I’m patient, as you have seen. I intend to live a lot longer. I will see my people set right again before I die, Director.”

“You won’t get anything if you scan me.”

“C’est la vie.”

“I’ve had a cascade trigger planted in my mind. A deep scan will set if off and wipe pertinent parts of my memory.”

“How you must have hated that - letting a dirty telepath into your head.”

Johnston laughed harshly.

“I did. But it was necessary.”

“Let’s see.”

Bester wrenched into his mind. After studying what he found there a moment, he backed out.

“Well. The truth. But I expected it, really, No matter, Director - I’ll find out what I need to know elsewhere. I didn’t have time… to really scan you, anyway.”

“This whole conversation has been recorded, you know.”

“Actually - it hasn’t. You forgot to flip the camera on, I’m afraid.”

“They’ll be able to tell the switch was tampered with.”

“I don’t think so. Good-bye, Director. Hugin.”

The telepath raised her PPG.

“Careful,” Bester cautioned.

She fired.

Bester stifled a scream as the burst scorched across his thigh. For an instant he felt a surge of wild hope from Johnston, but then the director must have seen it in Bester’s eyes.

“Munin,” Bester breathed.

The other telepath walked to the far wall and exploded, even as Bester fell forward to the floor. Shaped charges are wonderful things, Bester thought, as thunder clapped. A brilliant, dazzling heat scorched every inch of him, but he knew it would be no worse than a bad sunburn.

The next step was the risky part, the part that worried him ever so slightly. The wall was gone. Beyond it was the permanent glacial crust of Ganymede, a small fragment of which had been turned liquid by the burst of heat. Small in terms of the total volume of ice on Ganymede, not in terms of the cubic meters the room could contain.

Even as Bester made it to his feet and rushed to the door, the first wave hit him at the knees. It was cold, and the air temperature was dropping very quickly. He pressed the door open and fell through, the water surging behind him now up to his waist. He felt his body going into shock, as if he had just jumped into an arctic sea. He heard a sudden hiss-and-shush behind him and hoped it was what he thought it was, because he couldn’t stand up anymore.

He fell into water that was already thinned down to a few inches and lay there, gasping. He turned back toward the blasted room. The shield door had come down.

Icehouse was hardened, but a nuclear strike would melt the water around it, of course. As a precaution, each individual unit of the facility had been built to cut itself free and float. The section the director was in had been cut off from the rest of the facility, though it was still in place. Back in that room, temperatures must be rapidly approaching Ganymede normal. That was to say, colder than Satan’s heart.

“Mr. Bester!”

He tried to turn, but found he was having trouble moving. Someone rolled him over.

It was Drew.

“What happened? You’re shot!”

Bester managed to gesture toward the shield door.

“The director - tried to save-help him…”

Inwardly, he grinned like a cat. If he didn’t die of pneumonia-and if Ysidra and the others had taken care of the dead guards - everything was going to be just fine.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” Byron asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little freezer burn. The PPG blast missed everything important.”

“I wish we’d had a chance to scan those rogues.”

“Or whoever they were. But they must be long gone by now. They planned their assassination well.”

“I’m glad they didn’t get you, too.”

In that instant, Bester nearly told him. One day, when he was absolutely sure, Byron would be added to the inner circle, and he would probably find out what had really happened here. He might feel foolish after all, he was the only one on board completely oblivious to the truth. Still, it was too soon. Byron had all of the makings of one of the elite, but he hadn’t yet truly proved where his loyalties were. He hadn’t been marked, initiated. These were important things, not to be dismissed lightly.

But today Bester felt good. He felt well, invincible. Like that first time he had used his powers against a normal, that train cop en route to Paris. It was a good feeling to have, at his age. A rare one. He was almost sure of Byron, but he should wait. It was time to best him.

“Thank you, Byron. I’m glad they didn’t get me, too.”

Donne’s hard face on the screen was unreadable, and her voice was nearly as uninflected as ever, but something about her seemed excited.

“Everything went well at Jupiter, sir?”

“Very. We’re repaired and re-supplied and headed back to the inner system. Something must be happening on your end”

“Yes, sir. We’ve been keeping tabs, as you said I’d barely gotten here when there was an-incident.”

“Oh?”

“One of the freelance researchers - an Anna Sheridan-was doing some experiments with some sort of organic technology found at an archaeological dig on Theta Omega 2. She had a business teep named Hilliard try to - scan it.”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

“It turned his brains to jelly. Not only that, but every low-level teep within three miles was affected the same way.”

“No,” Bester said, slowly.

“No, that’s not good at all. Are there any more of these devices?”

“Yes.”

“I’m putting some calls through, right now. I want that technology confiscated, and I want you on this mission to the Rim. Are you game for that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t need to tell you how important this is. To all of us.”

“No. I appreciate your trust, sir.”

“Keep it. Don’t let your - personal satisfactions - get in the way of doing your job. But do what you have to. I give you license. We’ll fix it later. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission, after all.”

He considered.

“All in all, it’s a good time for this to have happened. The chain of command will have been shaken by events out here in Jupiter space. Their control will be weakened. They won’t oppose me in this.”

She chopped her chin in a Spartan nod.

“Sir.”

“I’ll talk to you soon, Ms. Donne.”

He watched the blank screen for a moment, feeling the ache return to his various body parts. Well, invincibility only lasted so long. He had had his fun, but the real business was just getting started. These aliens were at the center, he was certain of it. These new technologies had to be in the hands of the Corps - his Corps, not the mundane puppets. His Corps.

He had been brooding for about half an hour, watching Jupiter dwindle to something smaller than a railhead - when he got a call that cheered him up considerably.

“Some weeks, fate loves me,” he murmured, and left for the bridge. “Got him?”

“Yep. Right there.”

“All roads lead to these days, I guess.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. We’ve got all seven Starfuries up and running?”

“Tip-top shape, sir. We got the replacements for the lost ones the day before we shipped out.”

“Fine. Let’s take them all out.”

“They don’t appear to have any weapons, sir,” Ysidra remarked. “I want a show of force,” Bester said.

“We need to remind them who’s boss.”

He turned to face Byron, manning a console a few meters away.

“Byron? Ready for another hunt?”

“Always. I hope this one turns out better than the last.”

“No doubts this time,” Ysidra put in. “We’re far enough from Jove for clear readings. Plus surveillance footage of them boarding.”

“Still,” Bester said, “keep the transport at a decent distance. And we won’t have to board, this time. We’ll have them send the teeps out in a life-pod.”

He felt a stab of pride as the Starfirries took their positions with geometric precision. He had fought long and hard for the Black Omega Squadron. Initially, no one had thought it was a good idea, but he had proven their usefulness often enough that now no one in EarthGov complained - at least not overtly. After all, they thought they were keeping him distracted, out and away from Earth, from Admin, hunting rogues among die stars. Hadn’t they ever studied history? Didn’t they know the lesson of Caesar?

It was foolish to put a general out among the barbarians, with an army, and leave him to his own devices. You never knew when he might march back to Rome and take it for himself. When the time came, he was sure the Black Omega Squadron would follow him. Absolutely sure. And it was time to make Byron one of them. He flipped on his corn.

“Byron, would you do the honors?”

“Of course.”

Another crackle as he went to a broader band Bester followed him

“This is Omega 7 to the captain of the civilian transport. We have you under our guns. Answer or be fired upon.”

A brief pause, then a strained female voice.

“Omega 7, I copy. This is Captain Freya Grettirsdottir. How can I help you?”

“Captain, don’t play coy with me. You have ten rogue telepaths on your transport. You will immediately turn them over to my custody.”

Another pause.

“Omega 1, we have your assurance…”

“Now, Captain.”

“Give us five minutes.” She sighed “We’ll put them in a life-pod. We’re unarmed, Omega 1, and we won’t make any trouble.”

“That’s very wise.”

Less than five minutes later, a life-pod broke loose of the transport and drifted toward its Black Omega counterpart.

“Omega 7 to Omega 1. Blips are clear. Capture transport moving into position.”

Across the vacuum, Bester could make Byron out, just barely, through the clear canopy. Well done, Bynm. Thank you, sir. I hope I sounded authoritative enough. You were perfect. He linked to the other Black Omegas.

“Hold your positions. I want those Blips on the transport and their identities confirmed before we move an inch.”

And so they waited a few moments, until the confirmation came from the transport.

“All clear,” Byron said. “We can head back now.”

“Not yet, Omega 7,” Bester said.

He put command in his voice. This was hard for some of them, the first time. They needed to be walked through it. Afterward, they always came to understand. Well, almost always. What was important was that they felt that this time, they didn’t have a choice. Afterward, they would always make the right choice-on their own.

“We got this batch… but there will be others. We need to send a message.”

He could feel Byron’s confusion, even across the gulf.

“All fight… I’ll arrange for them to be escorted to…”

“Negative, Omega 7. Lock all forward weapons on transport. Prepare to fire.”

“Sir… they’re unarmed…. We can’t just-” “Prepare to fire, Omega 7.”

Bester found that he was actually holding his breath. This was taking longer than it should. Had he misjudged the boy? Could he have been that wrong?

“I can’t…”

Byron’s voice was thick. Bester found he was almost shaking. He couldn’t fail here, not after his greatest triumph. Byron would not-could not betray him. Not now.

“I gave you an order Byron. Execute the order or face the consequences.”

The other Starfuries turned their weapons systems toward Byron. They knew the drill. Leave him no choice. Later he would understand. Later. He felt a peculiar lightness in his chest.

“They’re just mundanes, Byron. And it’s them or you. You wanted to run with the big boys, now you have to show you’re up to it. Are you? Are you up to it, Byron?”

The moment stretched, and stretched. He was going to do it Byron was going to fail him - which could only mean that he had failed Byron. Failed in his last Rashomon role…

And then there was light. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time. The transport shredded under the impact of Byron’s weapons, and the pitiful mind-shrieks of the mundanes were swallowed by night.

Thank you, Byron. You didn’t fail me. At the last… He didn’t p-cast it.

What he p-cast was: Well done, Byron. Non let’s go home.

Epilogue

“Yes, Kelsey, come in.”

He stood at the window in his office, watching a sandstorm arrive across the Martian plain. It looked like a dark brick wall, higher than heaven, falling on all of them. He made sure it was Kelsey, of course, with a probe. There was no need to turn and face her.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“It’s okay. You have news?”

“Yes. I sent it to your terminal, but I thought I should come see you in person.”

He turned around then. Kelsey was a tall brunette, coldly beautiful. She was young, arrogant, and entirely trustworthy. Beneath her emotionless facade, she was terribly eager to please him, and he knew it.

“Did they find him?”

“No. Not even fragments. Calculating from the last trajectory, it’s possible that his ship actually went down on Venus.”

“Which is to say, he’s dead. Poor Byron. Do we know what happened yet?”

“It’s hard to make out. He was fine until the rogue ship started firing. Telemetry doesn’t show him being hit, but it does show an explosion in one of his fuel nacelles. The other Starfuries lost communication with him then, and he seems to have spun out of control. They lost him around the planetary horizon. By the time the fight was over and they were able to break free and go looking for him - nothing.”

A faint, terrible suspicion touched Bester then, but he forced it down. Byron would never do that to him. It was bad enough that he should die - he would never betray the Corps, never betray Al Bester.

He felt very cold.

“Tell them to keep searching. He may be in a low orbit, without communications. If he’s on the surface, we’ll never find him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Kelsey…”

“Sir?”

“What about that batch of transmissions we hijacked from IPX.”