STOWAWAY TO THE STARS

Once Karen had decided on her plan of action, she lost no time in putting it into effect. A visit to a theatrical costume shop equipped her with a blonde wig, padding and cheek pads to compensate for her sister’s stockier build. A pair of Rachel’s jeans, one of her sweaters and a pair of her glasses, with the lenses replaced by plain glass, completed the ensemble.

It occurred to her that if she intended to confront Grant, she might need protection. She bought a Colt .25 automatic pistol small enough to fit into her purse. The sales clerk assured her it was simple to use – it didn’t need to be cocked, and the safety was built into the grip so she couldn’t forget and leave it on.

When she got home she sat in her living room and examined the gun carefully. It was surprisingly heavy for its small size, and had a metallic odor, along with a smell of oil. She had an irrational feeling she wanted nothing to do with the horrible device. No, that was silly. If she was sticking her neck out, looking for this man who was probably involved with drugs, she needed it for her own protection.

She had never handled a real firearm before. If it was to be any use, she had to learn to use it.

A long drive up into the hills brought her to an isolated area where she could try it out without fear of discovery. A large tree made a useful target. If she couldn’t hit that, she’d wasted her time and money. She took careful aim and pulled gently on the trigger. An ear-shattering report and a stink of burnt cordite resulted. She realized she’d instinctively closed her eyes as she fired.

Inspection of the tree confirmed her fear. How could she miss such a large object? She thought back to films and TV she’d watched where they used guns. Didn’t they often use two hands for support? Something else came to her. She remembered having heard someone say, “Don’t pull the trigger, squeeze it.”

She lined herself up again. Square on to the tree, left hand supporting underneath her right, aim straight down the barrel. She forced her eyes to stay open and squeezed on the trigger. Again the noise, this time she saw the flash as well, and bark flew off the side of the tree.

She tried twice more. The last round landed satisfyingly near the centre of the trunk. That would teach the tree to tangle with her. She might not win any prizes for sharp-shooting, but she felt she had a sporting chance of defending herself now. It was time to start her manhunt.

****

Larry headed out for the hyperspace boundary and programmed a jump for Zilon. During the outward bound journey he reviewed what he knew about the planet. He hadn’t known much about the Ziloni before his encounter on Inferior, and what he had learned since, he didn’t like.

They had a reputation for taking a hard line in dealings with the Galactic Council. Zilon was an Associate Member of the Galactic Union, so they had more independence than planets that had moved on to Full Membership. The planet ran under a strict regime that did not welcome dissent. Not the best group to tangle with, but in his present mood he didn’t care. He owed it to Annek to get justice, and his conscience wouldn’t let him rest until he did.

Once through the boundary, he contacted Zilon Control and received clearance to land at Zirtar, the main spaceport serving the administrative centre of Zilon. The spaceport was run with totalitarian efficiency and soon he was through the arrivals channel. He took a taxi to the huge government administration complex. This was a massive maze of linked buildings, all uniform, dull, featureless gray blocks covering many hectares.

From his consultation of the Ziloni data it appeared that his target was the Ministry for External Affairs. It took the taxi driver several minutes to locate the right department among the depressing buildings. Once there, Larry browbeat his way through a series of minor officials who gave him a rapid advancement up the hierarchy. He continued to bluster, threaten and cajole until he reached the Undersecretary to the Secretary to the Minister.

The Undersecretary was a small, dapper man with slicked-back hair and a small, pointed beard. He sat behind a large desk on a chair so high Larry was certain his feet couldn’t be touching the ground. However, when he spoke, he gave the impression that his mind was sharp and incisive.

“So, Mr. Rasilii,” said the Undersecretary, after Larry had explained his business. “Why do you believe the Ziloni government is connected with the sad death of your colleague? Explain to me what happened, and what evidence you have that implicates my government.”

Larry repeated the story he had earlier told to the Union inquiry, again omitting the detail about the missile attack on the ground soldiers.

When Larry had finished, the Undersecretary flapped his hand as though he were brushing away cobwebs. “These people who murdered your partner could have been anyone,” he said.

“I’m certain it was your people. I got a good look at some of the vehicles and equipment. They clearly had official Ziloni markings. Your logo of intertwined Z, L and N is unmistakable.”

“That proves nothing. It might have indicated something like the Ziloni Mining Corporation, for instance. They could even have been false markings. It doesn’t in any way implicate my government.”

“No, it was a huge operation, with heavy duty nukes breaking down the water. Only a major organization, probably a planetary government, could mount an operation on that scale, on a remote planet, in such a hostile environment. And why would whoever it was go to the effort of falsifying all their equipment markings? They weren’t expecting anyone to discover them, it was only a chance in a million that I did.”

The Undersecretary leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Hmm, I do see how it must appear to you. Mr. Rasilii, you have my deepest sympathy over what has happened. When I first heard your story reported back to me from the Union inquiry, I made a thorough investigation to see whether one of our agencies might have been involved. Please accept my assurances that I am completely satisfied no one connected with my government has been in any way involved.”

The guy appeared to be sympathetic and genuine. A bit sycophantic perhaps, but after all he was a politician. Larry felt his conviction wavering, but he owed it to Annek to press his case as far as he could.

“I don’t see how you can be sure one of your agencies was not acting covertly. Ministers and Undersecretaries might be deliberately kept in the dark about such an operation.”

“No, there is no chance it could be covered up, not with the loss of two spaceships and all those ground troops killed. If it had occurred, I do assure you I would know.”

Shit. How did he know about the ground troops? This guy knows more than I’ve told anyone. He’s covering up big time. Larry, you are in trouble here. Time to backtrack and get out of here fast, but does he realize he’s slipped up?

“I see. I’m very pleased to hear that your government has had no involvement in this affair. It’s put my mind to rest. Thank you for sparing the time to see me.”

“I am pleased I have been able to reassure you. I was most disturbed to hear your unfounded accusations to my staff.”

“I must apologize for that. I do hope you will realize that this matter, and the death of my partner, has me not thinking straight at times.” Was he overdoing it? This must look like a remarkable about-face, but he needed to wrap up the meeting quickly.

“Think nothing of it, Mr. Rasilii. I quite see how it must have seemed to you, and once again you have my condolence over the loss of your colleague.”

Larry took the proffered hand, hoping his own wasn’t so sweaty as to give him away. As soon as he left the Undersecretary’s office, he made a circuitous way out of the building, avoiding the use of any elevators. Once outside the Ministry, surrounded by the foreboding structures of the administrative complex, he pinpointed two tails. Initially he let them tag along until he was clear of the government buildings and found himself in a busy area with plenty of waiting taxis. Then he put his IEP training into play.

He merged himself into the thickest area of the crowd, and as he rounded a corner he picked out a tall guy coming the other way, turned abruptly and tucked in behind Lofty. He caught a glimpse of his two tails as he passed the other way. Rounding the corner in the other direction, he had a brief respite. He used it to put distance between him and his pursuers. As soon as he knew he was clean, he jumped into a taxi.

He kept a close watch behind for further tails, but none appeared and he made it to the spaceport without further incident. The spooks were waiting for him when he got there, of course. He’d been too concerned watching out for tails to think about what would happen when he arrived. He halted abruptly and was about to turn back when a large party of holidaymakers ambled past. He quickly inserted himself into the middle of them. This got him through the first hurdle, the men at the entrance, but a glance over his shoulder revealed that they had seen him and were in pursuit.

At the security check a man appeared beside him and whispered, “All right, Mr. Rasilii, step this way, we don’t want a fuss in public, do we?”

The spook was slim, but with broad shoulders that suggested upper body strength. Piercing eyes stared intently at Larry from underneath bushy eyebrows. An ominous bulge in his coat pocket, where he had one hand concealed, suggested a hidden stun gun. No, they don’t want a fuss, they want a quiet extraction. If they were seen to be arresting me it would arouse further suspicions. This is a very public place with plenty of foreigners they couldn’t silence.

Larry shoved the man hard, making sure he twisted himself out of line of the gun at the same time. He heard a faint pop and saw a man further up the line slip to the floor. The poor man’s wife knelt down beside him in deep concern, but the rest of the crowd ignored her plight. All eyes were turned on Larry as he shouted at the man, “You dirty pervert, I felt you touching me up.” Turning to the crowd he asked, “Did any of you see him?”

At the inevitable negative response, he said, “Well, I don’t want him anywhere near me. I’m joining this other queue.” He ostentatiously moved to the line for the next security desk.

The man shot him a poisonous look. He turned to the growing group of onlookers and said, “That guy’s a lunatic. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” After a discreet interval he slipped away from the queue, where attention had shifted to the luckless individual who lay unconscious from the tiny stun needle.

Larry addressed his captive audience in the waiting lines. “It comes to something when you can’t stand in line without some pervert feeling you up.” Everyone around him tried hard to look someplace else, but he’d had the desired effect of keeping attention on himself. Where had his tail gone? Ah, there he was, in the corner in animated conversation with another spook.

“Look, there he is still. What do you suppose he’s up to now?” A few eyes shifted to the two spooks, who stopped talking abruptly and moved further away. He continued to complain until he was safely through the security check.

He reached the departure lounge and moved rapidly through the passengers milling around, pushing deliberately to make himself noticed and weaving to reduce the chance that his stalkers would take a distant pot shot at him.

When he arrived at the departure gate, he started haranguing the official on duty. He thought he had identified a spook a little way off, but he was just watching quietly. The man was clearly not willing to stun him when they were observed by spaceport officials and passengers. His request to be let out to go to his ship was a reasonable one and the official was obviously surprised he was making a scene. However, it served Larry’s purpose. He was allowed out onto the general parking apron.

“I need a car,” Larry shouted. “Why isn’t there any transport waiting?”

The woman attendant tried to calm him down. “Sir, a car will be here in a few moments.”

“Well can you hurry them up? I’m late.”

Several passers-by shook their head at him, casting irritated looks. He was just glad he had their attention. When a car pulled up in record time, Larry didn’t chance it. He backed away as the oversized driver stepped out of the vehicle. “I’ve changed my mind. I –” He spotted another car pulling up in the next bay and made a dash for it.

Larry out-maneuvered a waiting passenger and leapt inside the vehicle as soon as it stopped. Even so he watched the driver like a hawk for any attempt to pull a stun gun or drive the wrong way, until he reached his ship.

He slipped the startled driver twenty interstellar credits and said, “Can you park right up by the door, and wait there till I’m on board?” The puzzled man complied. Larry peered around for more spooks as he used his remote control to unlock the door. But they had not caught up with him yet, and in moments he was inside.

He locked the door from inside and called on the radio for an immediate departure. He got the reply he feared.

“Sorry, IEP zero zero eight, your clearance is not in order. Please return to the control centre.”

“Zirtar Tower, this is IEP zero zero eight. Sorry, I can’t hear you very well. I understand I’m clear to depart. Zero zero eight is lifting for a standard departure.”

The voice of the Tower controller rose an octave. “IEP zero zero eight, you are NOT clear to depart, I repeat, you do not have clearance to lift. Report back to the control centre at once.”

He ignored the furious response, lifted clear of the ground, engaged the gravity compensator, retracted the legs, pointed the nose skyward and eased the stick forward. Throughout the ascent he ignored the protests on the radio and punctiliously made all his own calls at the appropriate points. Each time he said he couldn’t hear properly. He resisted the urge to slam his stick forward while he was in the atmosphere, as he crawled spaceward at the regulation Mach 0.9. He scanned his viewscreen anxiously. Could they get an intercept craft up to him before he was clear? If he could just get into space they’d never match accelerations well enough to get a tractor on him. Their only option would be a missile attack.

They had no compunction about launching a missile attack on the isolated planet Inferior, but this was different. They couldn’t hide an attack in the busy space lanes of their own planet, after the prominent radio broadcasts accompanying his departure. Surely it would be impossible for them to justify?

He watched his viewscreen anxiously for signs of trouble, but it stayed blank. Soon he was clear of the atmosphere, and danger of interception. He eased his stick all the way forward. He couldn’t outrun missiles, but it would cut down the agonizing time it would take to reach the hyperspace boundary. A trace appeared behind him, slowly overhauling him. It looked as if they intended to shadow him out to the boundary. Would they launch a strike?

The pursuer settled down a few kilometers to the rear. Larry had nothing to do but watch the screen for the deadly sparkle of a multiple missile launch. The minutes dragged like hours until the jump light finally turned blue and he could complete his escape. The question was, what repercussions were going to follow?