13. Meetings
Empty space, that's all they could find. Taranson mumbled to himself as the SH-4 spy vessel crisscrossed several systems. Still, nothing. He was able to backtrack to Rath's break point, the moment he killed his props. That information was maintained by the receptacle links which captured the signals from the tracking chips, but Taranson failed to locate any new Boscon distortions. There was simply no sign of a second hyperlight path. And no sign of the scout either, just empty space.
No trail and no ship. Nothing on radar and nothing on Jack's sensor program. Even if Rath had managed to slip a curtain on the scout, the beacon would still reveal his position. But there was no signal, not from their current location and not from any neighboring systems. That meant either the beacon had ceased transmitting or Rath was gone, back in full Boscon Push.
Jack believed it was the latter. It was a simple matter of logic. If Scampion was scared enough to pull a stunt like killing his props, he certainly wouldn't hang around afterward. Finding the new path of Boscon distortion would prove that. It just wasn't going to be easy.
Taranson continued his search. He ordered all receptacles placed on wide array, but in truth, he didn't know which direction to follow. He knew the point in space where Rath had cut his props, but he couldn't predict the course changes brought upon by such a sudden displacement in power. Rath's scout could have ended up in any direction from the last monitored distortion. The turbulence of sudden shift could have sent the scout tumbling up or down, right or left, maybe even backward - or any combination. Who knew? There was just no way to tell. There was also the possibility that Rath kept his scout below hyperlight after re-engaging his engines. The scout could have traveled through half the system before powering props to a point where they would leave a clear signature.
Taranson turned to the coordinator with a look of frustration. "We've got his last known position pinpointed, but there's still no sign of debris, sir. It didn't break up in the shift. I'm sure of that. The target is probably under its own power and heading in a new direction."
"I'm sure it is, captain." Jack responded coolly.
Taranson tensed at the simple response. "We're searching for a trace now. All receptacles are functional and on full absorption. If there is a Boscon distortion nearby, we'll find it."
The tone was a little to official. Jack knew the pilot was worried about losing the scout and maybe he was now following standard procedure to cover his own butt, so the coordinator offered his own understanding of the situation, just to add a little incentive.
"We have to find it, period. You shouldn't be caring if it's nearby or not. You know how far this goes up. No one on this vessel is going to be able to just shrug his shoulders and say 'Oh well, we lost him. We'll try and do better next time.' That's not going to fly, and neither will you in the future if we don't find Mr. Scampion."
Taranson grumbled again. He was about to protest against the impossible when he altered his focus to the nav terminal. "Fine, I'm instituting a new search pattern, a spherical enlargement. It's going to take some time, but it's the best way to ensure we're not moving off in the wrong direction."
"Whatever it takes," Jack replied simply.
The navigational computer displayed a three dimensional grid. Preset paths curved symmetrically around the end of the Boscon signature. The course of the ship created a growing sphere around that point. Amidst the free flowing precepts, Taranson engaged maneuvering power directly to the computer.
"There, the ship's on automatic pilot. It'll continue to circle about the last know point of distortion, the edge of the spherical pattern will increase with each pass." The pilot paused as he looked to Jack. He hesitated, but spoke his thoughts regardless of any misgivings. "Off the record, this isn't good. You're right; I know what this mission means. I want to find this guy as badly as you do, but I'm still wondering about this little move of his. He's not supposed to know he's being followed. You said he's scared and that may explain things. But what happens next? If he's scared enough to pull off a move like this, what else is he going to try?"
The coordinator considered the point. Breaking off push in mid-flight was dangerous, even life-threatening, not something he would have expected from Mr. Scampion. He chewed a thumbnail nervously as he could not offer an answer to the question.
"I'm serious," the pilot continued. "I've got clearance, I've seen the files on this. This guy's a loose cannon that can cause a lot of damage. If you were Rath Scampion and you're that scared, what would you do?"
"I guess I'd run, just like he did."
"To where?"
"The outer rim," Jack answered with a little more certainty. "He's comfortable out there. He's a long range scout, remember?"
"Yeah, but he's not on any scout mission. What's he going to do when he gets there? He's got no place to go."
"He needs time to think, to consider what's happening. He also feels vulnerable. You asked what I would do if I were him. That's not the right question. It's not about what I'd do, but what he would do. We have to think like him, consider his natural reactions. If I thought like Rath Scampion and I was scared, I'd get as far away as fast as I could. Then, I'd figure out how to save my skin. That's what he does, I know this guy. He likes to take time to think, but he definitely has a thin line of nerve. He's not going to stick around and pretend like everything's fine and dandy. This little trick of his was a surprise, I have to admit, but surprises usually don't last."
Taranson crossed his arms. "Alright, let's go with that. He heads off to the far reaches of current exploration, maybe a trading post. What then?"
"Well, according to some of your fellow agents, he does have some information he can use against us. He took the time to download it into his own files. He must have had a reason. He might try to bargain with what he's got."
"To do that, he'll need to talk to us. Not an easy thing to do at the edge of the galaxy."
"He can send a message on a courier ship."
The pilot nodded. "So you think he might head to one of the last communication stops near the outer rim of colonization. He could send out a message from there and wait for a response."
"Why not? It fits with character."
Taranson abruptly turned away from the coordinator. He flipped on a secondary navigational computer and scanned certain sections of the outer rim. He spoke to himself as he perused the charts. "He might have been worried about being followed, but he wouldn't have chosen a path too far from his ultimate destination. My guess is he wouldn't want it to point like an arrow, but it would be close. If he continued his path at a slight angle from its origin, he could end up in any of these systems, but to return to Boscon Push, he'd have to go ..."
He gave quick orders to the shipboard computer. "Record present position. Put pattern on hold and save. End auto- pilot."
The pilot took control of the flight stick, glanced at the charts still displayed on his terminal and headed off out of the current system.
"What are you doing?" Jack questioned with more surprise than concern.
"Accepting your theory. If Scampion wanted to go to the outer rim from here, he'd head off in this direction, clear of the system. Once away from the system debris like the asteroid belt, he'd reassert Boscon Push. A good deal of pirate activity in that direction, but maybe he'd accept that as a diversion. If he's willing to just kill propulsion while in push, I doubt he'd consider pirates too much of a risk. Now, I can't say exactly which planet may be his destination, but there are a few communication bases out there. It's a bit of a gamble, he could have gone in the opposite direction, but I think it's worth the risk. If I don't find anything out here, I'll just return right back to where we were and continue the pattern we were on. Just a small loss of time."
Jack nodded.
In less than five standard minutes, the gamble was apparently rewarded.
"I got something. Boscon distortion detected." He directed a confirmation order to one of the operatives monitoring the wave tables. "Match that to our last distortion. Give me the probability of a match."
"Ninety six percent."
The pilot grinned. "I hope you remember that piece of good work when you make a report to the councils."
"Lead me to him and I'll put you up for higher level clearance." Jack offered with growing optimism.
#
Realization hit Rath like a snowball in the ear; it was cold and it stung. The Boscon Props leveled off, dropping him out of push. The Semele system became visible in his front viewshield just as he considered exactly what he was doing.
He was arriving in a system that was declared dangerous and off-limits to merchant vessels, freighters, and scouts. He was showing up with an incredible story just as word was spreading of Authority intervention in pirate activity. Semele was the home of Angelo, the pirate with the worst reputation in the galaxy; a man making his own rules, building his own fleet of ships, and creating a dominion in direct opposition to Regency.
But Rath's history was with Regency. He was a licensed scout pilot; his ship was now Authority issue. That certainly wasn't going to look good. Rath examined his wristband and his portable - his ties to the intricate web of information within Regency, his very identity. What was Angelo going to think when he scanned the information? Would he get the chance to explain what was going on at Fenrir and why he was forced to run? Worse, would he ever even see this now infamous figure?
Semele had become a port-of-call for all pirates; sanctuary for drifters and malcontents. Given a chance, they'd just cut off his arm and take the wristband and all the credits it gave them access to. One thing was for sure, they weren't just going to let him land and waltz up to the king of pirates.
"Stupid idea, stupid idea." Rath wiped his forehead, but any chance or backing out now fizzled away. The scout wasn't equipped with a curtain. He couldn't hide his presence, and two intercepting raider vessels made that point very clear.
Rath surrendered, gave up in more ways than one. His fate was no longer in his hands. He killed all forward propulsion, even powered his reverse thrusters to come to a complete halt. He ordered the computer to signal a general surrender on all channels. He entered the security code to remove his wristband and placed it with his portable on the console in front of him. He slouched in the pilot's chair as he waited to be boarded.
The marauders came in quiet politely, not skittish and not brazen. They were led by a physically fit middle-aged woman with auburn hair, but with graying visible near the roots. She nodded to the pilot, but her eyes scanned the entire cockpit with the quickness of the devil.
Rath decided to remain in his chair, not out of disrespect, he just didn't want to be viewed as a threat.
The woman seemed comfortable with the arrangement and gave no directive for him to get up.
"Are you hurt?" she asked almost compassionately, but in truth, it was more out of curiosity.
"No, I'm not hurt," Rath sighed as he eyed the armed escorts covering her flank.
"Do you know where you are?"
"I'm in the Semele system. The system is restricted. I know where I am."
The woman was almost too open with her comments, as if she was trying to surprise the scout. "This is an Authority class scout ship. We've heard the Authority plans to clean up this system. What's your deal? Are you the forward scout, check out our defenses, that sort of thing?"
"No," Rath said flatly. He was tired and he truly had surrendered in many ways. He didn't want to be there, didn't want to be boarded by marauders, and didn’t like to think that this Angelo was his last hope. He hated pirates, but now he hated Regency, too.
"It's a long story," he admitted with a tired tone. "And I doubt you have the time or the desire to hear it. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not here to help anyone but myself, though I doubt that's going to work out."
The woman frowned, but apparently accepted the situation as it stood. Still, she was not quite comfortable with the possibilities. "You're only halfright. I don't have the time, not here anyway, but I do have the desire. Why don't you just give me an idea of what you want?"
Rath summed up his situation as quickly and as bluntly as possible. "This alien thing that’s been on the media casts, there's something wrong with it. Regency is lying. I don't know why, but they are. First of all, the aliens are on Fenrir. I know. I was there. I saw them. I was also the first scout to land on the planet. Thing is, they weren't always there. When I made my first scout, there was nothing there, no life forms. I went back and all of a sudden something's going on. Regency went to great lengths to convince me I just missed this alien, but I found some gaping holes in their story. Nothing adds up and nothing makes sense. I don't know if you saw that report about the alien nuclear exchange, but even that sounded like a lie. I was there for that, too. Only two warheads exploded. Melees from a Planning Station intercepted the rest. I still don't know why they would broadcast something like that."
"What's all of this got to do with us?"
"Probably nothing, I just thought you may be able to use what I knew. Bad idea. I just realized it too late. I've been havin' a real bad stretch of luck."
"You just wanted to tell us this story, why not tell someone in the media?"
"I can't trust anyone."
The woman raised her eyebrows. "You think you can trust us?"
Rath actually allowed a light laugh to escape his lips. "I know, it's a bad idea. I just didn't realize it. I don't know. I was feeling trapped. I can't be too safe knowing what I know. They're going to come after me."
"Is that what you want from us, protection?"
"Sort of. No, not really." Rath struggled to explain in the simplest of terms and truly not caring if he offended his questioner. "I guess I wanted to drop the problem in someone else's lap, let you deal with it. I figured if you knew what I did, they'd be more worried about you and they'd leave me alone." Rath looked up almost hopefully. “You can understand that, can’t you? It’s not a secret if it’s out in the open. Why would they even bother with me anymore when you know all that I know?”
"By 'they', I assume you mean Regency."
"I guess so. I don't know which councils are involved; I don't even know what it is they're involved in. The Authority seems to be a big part of it, though. They're the ones keeping the wraps on the system."
"You wouldn't happen to have any proof of what you're saying?"
"I have a few reports, maintenance logs, things like that. Who knows if they're any good. Everything I have is logged in my portable." He nodded to the components in front of him. "That's my wristband, too. You can pretty much check my whole history with that."
The woman frowned again, but this time deep lines formed around her eyes. At this point, she didn't like what she heard and she revealed as much. "You realize of course that if you were a plant sent by the Authority you'd have fraudulent credentials. Everything you have may be forged."
"Whatever," Rath responded in a tone of sheer futility.
"I see. Well, why don't you come and stay with us for a while. Give us a chance to go through your ship."
Rath didn't argue.
#
The SH-4 came into the Semele system fully veiled. It dropped out of Boscon Push completely unnoticed by the orbital control monitors and the heavily armed pirate vessels.
Jack was aware of where they were heading even before they dropped out of push. Taranson had advised him of the course being transmitted back by the tracking chips. Semele was the only planet that made sense. Rath was making a dash for the marauders.
"Looks like our boy planned on bargaining alright," the pilot offered. "He just had no intention of doing it with us. You were right about one thing. This Scampion must be scared, because a rational man does not deal with marauders."
Taranson eased the spy vessel about the system utilizing all of its evasive technology. He slid into a surveillance post near the boarded scout and read the data from sensors directed on the interior of the targeted ship.
"There's a lot of activity going on in there. I read core downloads and laser transfers to dishes on Semele's surface. We can pick up some of what's being said inside and it sounds like a bunch of techs going through the computers. I've got no match to Scampion's recorded voice pattern. If he's still onboard, he's being very quiet."
"This certainly does complicate things," Jack agreed. "He's probably not even on the scout anymore. He's either dead or being questioned down on Semele."
"What should we do?" Taranson asked.
"For now, keep us veiled and monitor the system. If they didn't kill him, then he's still here somewhere. I doubt he's been here long enough to convince anyone to take him away. My guess is they'll be careful with him, if they believe him at all. Can you monitor ship traffic?"
"Affirmative. We're already hooked up to their space control systems. Untraceable link of course."
"Good, I want to know if any ship goes into push. It's also time the Authority knocks out this pirate base. Can we get a message out of here that'll reach someone fast without being detected?"
"Absolutely. I've got six Boscon-driven courier balls that I can launch. We can set them with Authority base precepts. A message should reach Authority Command in less than forty standard hours."
"The launch won't be detected?"
"I'll keep a curtain around it until it reaches hyperlight. No one's going to see it."
"Fantastic, maybe things are finally going our way. I think the Authority would be happy to know that it can remove the problem of Rath Scampion and Angelo with one strike, don't you?"