Fool's Gambit (Confederation Reborn Book 5) Read online

  "Can it move?" he asked.

  "She made it here, didn't she?"

  "I mean, will it get us out of trouble?"

  "The drives were mostly undamaged. She can still do everything she could when she was with the Fleet."

  Knox nodded. "Where's the Yuruk?"

  "In the hold, with the cargo. He loaded it, and he's been there with it since it came on board."

  "You know what it is?"

  Dolon fixed him with a look. "Of course I don't."

  "Does he?"

  "I have no idea what he knows," Dolon said. "It's not my job to know that. It's my job to know the route and get us there."

  "Hey, I'm just making conversation," Knox said. "We all knew what we signed up for, right?"

  "If it wasn't for the money I wouldn't have it on board. I've stayed in one piece for five years by keeping things nice and quiet, and by knowing everything there is to know about my ship, my crew, my destination and my cargo. This is a risk. A big risk."

  "Just keep your eyes on the prize."

  Dolon snorted. "Do you have all your things?"

  Knox eased himself away from the rail. "Let's get going," he said.

  Dolon led Knox aboard and showed him to his quarters. It was lined with bookshelves that still contained hard-copy backup manuals and operating procedures, the things that would have been present when the room was still occupied by a Confederation Lieutenant. Knox stashed his bag on the bed and went to find the bridge, but when he reached the main door, it whistled dimly and did not open.

  He waved his hand in front of the sensor, nothing. "Computer?" he said. Still, nothing. Knox jammed his finger on the communication panel and said, "Dolon? You need some private time in there? You shy?"

  "Hang on a second, I won't be long," came Dolon's voice from within, "Just setting our course."

  "Finally leaving, are we?" a metallic voice said from behind him.

  Knox turned to find the nearly seven-foot-tall Yuruk standing in the passageway. His silvery eyes looked cruel behind a heavy metal mask that emphasized his brow ridge. His arms and chest were thickly muscled, bunched beneath military fatigues that Knox didn't recognize.

  "Our pilot seems to feel the need to seal the bridge," said Knox.

  "He's paranoid that we'll catch a glimpse of the route. It must be precious to him." The Yuruk made no attempt to disguise the scorn in his voice.

  "I'm Knox, by the way."

  "I know," said the Yuruk.

  "And you are...?"

  "Vorsin. Most outsiders simply call me the Yuruk."

  "Which do you prefer?"

  "I prefer not having to talk to anyone," he said, and turned to walk back down the passageway.

  "Hey," Knox called after him, "What can you tell me about the cargo?"

  Vorsin glanced back at him, "It would be in your best interest to never ask me that again."

  Knox held up his hands in peace and said, "I'm not asking for your secret info, don't worry."

  The few facial muscles Knox could make out beneath the Yurok's mask twitched pensively.

  Knox shrugged and said, "Well, since there's nothing else to do, I guess I'll just mosey on down to the hold and see it for myself. It can't hurt to at least have a better idea what all this fuss is about."

  Vorsin fell into step behind him.

  "It's all right," Knox said with a quick smile. "I can find my way without any help."

  "I'm not coming along to help you," said the Yuruk. "If you attempt to steal the cargo, or interfere with it in any way, I'm going to tear off your arms."

  The hold was dim and unnaturally cool. The metal floor and walls held the fossilized memories of oil and what looked like blood of some kind. The sour odor of whatever contraband had last been hauled in its stores lingered in the air like a curse. A dominating metal container squatted in the middle of the hold. Fastenings bulged at the edges of its lid, looking as if they'd been forged by giants. The whole thing had been lashed down with cord as though it were dangerous and might try to escape.

  "There, you've seen it," said Vorsin, "Let's go."

  "I'm not done looking. But you can head back if you want."

  "I said let's go. Don't stretch my patience."

  "I'm in no hurry to go anywhere."

  The Yuruk positioned himself between Knox and the container. "I'm warning you."

  Knox took a step toward the container and faced up to the Yuruk. Vorsin was broad across the shoulders, larger and stronger than him, and Knox knew it. What he didn't know was at what point, if any, either of them would back down. He clenched his hands into fists, and the air between them seemed to simmer, until the sound of a door hissing open behind them made both of their heads turn. Dolon appeared in the doorway, his dark skin shining in the overhead lights.

  "Smells bad, doesn't it?" Dolon said, stepping down into the hold. He pointed at splotches on the ceiling and walls, saying, "Swarm guts. They said it had been cleaned, but you can never get rid of the stink. Me, I try not to come down here unless I have to."

  Knox stepped back from the Yuruk, secretly grateful for the intervention of a third party. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Nice to see you come out of your hole," Knox said.

  "I take it you are finished plotting our course?" Vorsin said. He had visibly relaxed as well, but he still remained positioned between them and the container.

  "We're all ready to go," said Dolon, heading back through the doors.

  "You're not in charge here, you know," Knox said to the Yuruk.

  "You heard the Gorohai," Vorsin muttered. "We're leaving."

  The onboard circadian systems were set to a twenty-four hour cycle, and Knox found the first day of travel to be not unpleasant. The ship's navigation computer carried them along Dolon's secret course, and they were soon arrowing through the infinite black of deep space. Knox sat up front on the bridge, lounging in the Communications Officer's seat, watching the pinpricks of a billion stars slide past. The Gorohai kept his attention fixed on the navigation and sensor displays, utterly disinterested in the view through the observation panels.

  "You're missing out on a great view," said Knox, his feet kicked up on the communications console.

  "My people don't build ships with windows," said Dolon, not looking up.

  "Why not?"

  "What would be the point? If you can see it, it's already too late. Give me sensors any day."

  Knox grunted and shifted in his seat. "And they wonder why the Gorohai pleasure cruise industry is doing so badly."

  After a while Dolon seemed to relax a little, and eased his focus on the displays. He sat back in his seat and allowed himself a modest smile.

  "Just listen to that," said Dolon, "That drive must be twenty years old at least, and it still hums like new."

  "The drive might be in good condition, but the rest of this tub's falling apart," said Knox.

  "Exactly. No-one is going to suspect that a ship like this is carrying anything valuable."

  Knox grinned and looked out at the stars. "Looks like we're on bearing two point eight," he said.

  "That's right," Dolon said evenly.

  "Been a long time since I've been to the Harekas."

  The Gorohai laughed. "Don't even try it. I can't tell you where we're going."

  "Just curious. You know how it is. Makes no difference to me where we end up, as long as I get paid."

  "That's more like it."

  "How long are we going to be out here, though? You've got to be able to tell me that much. I need to know how long I'm going to be stuck on this thing, with you two. I mean, no offense, but neither one of you is exactly my first choice of long-term companions."

  Dolon cocked an eyebrow at him, "And who, or what is, if you don't mind me asking?"

  Knox leaned back, still thinking about the shimmering Rothian slave girl he'd seen in the advertisement. Once he had the money together, he was going to find a brothel. Maybe if he connected with one strongly enough, he'd
buy out her contract and take her some place nice. "My first choice would be something a little more pink," he said, cracking a half-smile.

  Dolon laughed softly and shook his head. "Two weeks. Give or take."

  "That's not long enough to get us anywhere at this kind of speed."

  "We're going to be alternating hyper and subspace. As circumstances dictate."

  "No holes?"

  "There's way too many eyes on the holes."

  "DMZ?" Knox said, suddenly concerned.

  "No comment."

  Knox looked at Dolon, but the Gorohai had turned his attention to the sensor display.

  "You really don't know what we're carrying?" he said.

  "No," said Dolon, adjusting the sensor range, "And I don't want to know. Same as I don't want to know who we're delivering it to. So you can relax, you won't get any questions from me."

  "That reminds me," Knox said, as he leaned over and opened the internal communication channel to the C-Cabin. Vorsin's masked face bloomed on the comms display, looking irritated at the interruption. Knox smiled at him and said, "Hey handsome. Just checking on you. How you doing back there?"

  The Yuruk didn't answer; he looked into the communication panel for a moment and then closed the channel.

  It was on the fourth day, as the Fool's Gambit passed the far reaches of the Calix system, that they received an incoming message. Knox was alone on the bridge, his attention alternating between the sensor display and the frozen serenity of deep space, when the communications console blared to life. He opened the channel and watched the fuzzy outline of Axalis's face digitize on the display screen. "Dolon?" she said, her voice crackling with static. "Dolon, are you there?"

  She sounded worried, and Knox could make out unusual, urgent sounds in the background.

  "This is Knox," he said.

  "Knox?" she said, sounding irritated. "Get me Dolon."

  He attempted to speak, but the display screen went dark. He pressed a button on the console and called for Dolon to report to the bridge, leaning back in his chair as he waited for the Gorohai to arrive.

  "The boss wants a word," Knox said, when the lift doors opened.

  Dolon crossed the bridge and laid his finger against the console, saying, "Dolon here."

  Axalis appeared instantly, saying, "This is for your ears only."

  "You're kidding me," Knox said.

  "I never kid. Now leave," she said.

  He looked at Dolon, "We're supposed to be working together."

  Dolon shrugged as he followed behind Knox, ignoring his protests as he shooed the man off the bridge. The doors slid shut, and the magnetic locks snapped into place before Knox could even turn around. Knox considered his options, then walked over to the ship's comm unit and opened up a channel to the hold. When it buzzed, he said, "You're going to want to get up here."

  He saw that the incoming message had terminated, and opened a channel to the bridge. When the display came online, he saw Dolon slumped forward, leaning heavily on the communications console.

  Knox pressed the call button and said, "Hey, you didn't have to shut me out. Just because she says jump doesn't mean we have to ask how high?"

  "You couldn't hear the concern in her voice?" Dolon said, the smooth mahogany skin of his face glistening with sweat. "That alone should have tipped you off that wasn't the time to play games."

  "So what did she say?"

  "Nothing."

  "Come on, Dolon. Don't treat me like a fool. I can help, but you have to trust me."

  "Trust you?" Dolon said, smiling thinly. "I bet. Fine, you want to know? She told me that the plan's changed."

  "Changed how?"

  "My gut says that what we've got on board isn't what she thought it was."

  Vorsin appeared behind him, his massive form filling the hallway. "What's going on?"

  "Perfect," Dolon sighed, hearing the Yuruk's voice. "You two can discuss it out there. I have to recalculate our course."

  "Dolon, wait—" Knox said, but before he could finish, the Gorohai ended the call. He looked sideways, and saw the Yuruk's eyes glistening with anger.

  "Axalis called him," said Knox. "And only him. There's some kind of problem. The damn Gorohai won't say what."

  "And you let him?" said Vorsin. "You fool."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Now neither of us knows what was said. Knowledge is power. He'll use this communication against us, mark my words."

  Knox held his hands to his forehead in confusion, "Were you not listening? The lady called here and said he was the only one she'd speak with. He locked me out. What was I supposed to do?"

  "You have likely consigned us to death out here, human. Your naivety will be your undoing, mark my words."

  "Tell you what, Yuruk. Forget I said anything. Next time, I'll keep it to myself."

  "You think the Gorohai is as clean as he looks?" Vorsin said. "Do not be fooled by his weak tone. How is it, exactly, that someone of his status can buy an old Confederation corvette? Ask yourself that."

  With that he stormed back towards his hideout, but before he reached the doorway, he turned, raising a thick finger toward Knox. "You will never again let him use the comm system without first alerting me. No one speaks to anyone outside this ship without my approval. Do I make myself clear?"

  Knox was too irritated to join Dolon back on the bridge, and he would rather tongue-kissed a Meryan elder than have risked talking to Vorsin again. He found himself wandering aimlessly around the ship, reacquainting himself with the layout of a Confederation vessel. He'd never served on a Corvette when he was a Fed, but it was close enough. The vast majority of the Fool's Gambit had been stripped to the pylons, leaving nothing but bare walls and clusters of dead wires protruding from the walls. After the fifth or sixth hollow cabin his enthusiasm waned.

  He made his way into the officer's lounge, seeing that it was, mercifully, still in passable shape. The computer terminals worked, and the furniture, although some of it was burnt, still functioned.

  He sat in one of the large chairs and kicked his feet up on the desk and tried to pass the time by listening to music, but the ship's library was limited and not to his taste. He uploaded a file containing Rothian erotica that he'd picked up from a trader down in Gulleray, but it was low-quality and the atmosphere of the lounge somehow didn't lend itself to that kind of relaxation. He sighed, reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol. It was clean, he knew, but he disassembled it nonetheless, laid out the components neatly on the table and wiped them each down with a cloth, then carefully slotted them back together. When he'd finished he laid the pistol back down on the table and gave it a final polish. The barrel gleamed so sharply that he could see his own reflection in the surface. He spotted a tiny smudge on one of the smaller components, and broke the thing down to begin the ritual again.

  At 1700, as the ship's lights began to dim, Dolon appeared in the lounge's doorway holding a bottle of dark liquid and two empty glasses.

  "Here," he said, stepping into the cabin and extending one of the glasses to Knox, "I brought you a drink."

  Knox reached out, but hesitated.

  "Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with it," said Dolon as he began to fill the bottle. "You're worth a hundred thousand to me alive. Dead, not quite so much."

  Knox took the glass. "Vorsin not joining us?"

  "I took him a drink but he said he wanted to stay down with the cargo."

  "Did you know he sleeps down there? I saw he'd set up a bed."

  Dolon shrugged. "Mind if I sit down?"

  "It's your ship."

  Dolon took a seat at the desk, and the two of them sipped at their drinks in silence for a time. Knox swirled his drink so that the dark liquid clung to the sides of the glass.

  "Sorry about earlier," said Dolon eventually.

  "What happened?" asked Knox.

  Dolon set his glass down on the desk and sighed. "I don't know. We're heading somewhere differe
nt. That's all I can say."

  "Maybe we were always going to this new place. Maybe they thought you'd have turned them down if you'd known where we're headed."

  Dolon nodded, but didn't reply. Knox swirled his glass.

  "So Vorsin didn't want to join us," said Knox, "I can't believe Axalis lumped us in with that miserable bastard."

  "Axalis knew exactly what she was getting. The Yuruk is not on board for his compassion or his sparkling conversation."

  "I could have told you that myself."

  "No, there's more to it than that. A few years ago he was head of security at the DeVekkel mining operation on Kanbar Oran when the workers revolted. They wrecked a load of machinery, then a huge mob armed themselves with clubs and pipes and stormed the main operations base. The supervisor wanted to negotiate, but Vorsin sealed the building, smashed the comms system, took his men up onto the roof of the base and fired down into the crowd until they were all dead or had run off. Two hundred and thirty four of them were killed. Most by Vorsin and his men, but others fell as they tried to escape across the river and were trampled into the liquid mud at the shore. Apparently he went down to the river to look for survivors, and when he found one there in the mud he dragged him into the water and drowned the guy himself."

  "Are you kidding me? This is the guy we're bunking with?"

  "During the Great Invasion he was with the 1st Sythian Vanguards. 'The Butchers,' they call them. They're mean bastards, but he was something else. They were at Yur Trius when the Swarm hit, and he was one of only about a hundred Yuruks that walked out of that battle alive. Trius was the only world in that system to survive. They say he killed thousands of them. Thousands. Some with nothing but his own hands. There are even reports – unconfirmed reports, but still – reports that he killed his own comrades if he felt that they weren't being vicious enough."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I make it my business to know who I'll be sharing my ship with."

  A sharp scratching noise behind Dolon made both men stop talking and turn. They saw Vorsin standing in the doorway, leaning against one side, watching as he dragged his thick fingernail down the dimpled metal surface. "It was their fault. They kept coming," he finally said.