The Widowmaker Reborn: Volume 2 of the Widowmaker Trilogy Read online

  Finally he returned to the ship without having satisfied his doubts. He played every possible scenario over and over in his mind, but couldn't spot whatever it was that his subconscious felt he had missed.

  Finally, after a couple of hours, he lay down on his bunk and drifted off to a troubled sleep.

  11.

  Friday ate insects. Preferably live ones.

  Nighthawk, who in his prior life had spent a lot of time on the Inner Frontier with aliens, paid no attention. Kinoshita, who was sharing the control room with Nighthawk while the aliens shared his cabin, thought the habit was disgusting and said so. Blue Eyes found it amusing. Melisande took one quick peek at Friday's emotions, got a truer reading than she wanted or expected, and spent the rest of the voyage in her own cabin, trying not to read the emotions that were there for the perusing.

  “Just how many of those things did you bring along?” asked Nighthawk as Friday withdrew a large, hairy, spider-like insect from a pouch and started biting off the legs one by one.

  “Enough,” answered the alien.

  “What do they eat while they're waiting to be eaten by you?” continued Nighthawk.

  “Each other.”

  “Disgusting!” muttered Kinoshita for perhaps the tenth time.

  Friday looked at him calmly. “You eat fish, which my race considers sacred.”

  “It's not the same thing at all,” said Kinoshita. “At least everything I eat is dead before I eat it.”

  “Ah,” said Friday. “I see now. It is moral to slaughter animals in a building constructed for that purpose, or to let a fish gasp for air for hours before it dies, as long as you yourself do not have to kill it.”

  “I've had about enough of you,” muttered Kinoshita.

  “Calm down,” said Nighthawk.

  “Damn it,” complained Kinoshita. “Have you been watching and listening to him?”

  “That's the way he's built. Try to treat him like an equal.”

  “Equals don't pull the legs off bugs and eat them!”

  “This one does,” said Friday, pulling another leg off the insect.

  “What do we have him along for anyway?” persisted Kinoshita.

  “He's our explosives expert.”

  “Do we need one?”

  “I don't know,” admitted Nighthawk. “But if we do, I don't want to have to go out searching for one.”

  Kinoshita stared at the impassive alien and fell silent. When Friday continued nibbling on the insect, he got up and left the galley.

  “Touchy friend you've got there,” said Blue Eyes, who had been an amused but silent observer of the little contretemps.

  “He's not my friend.”

  “That's right—I forgot. You don't have any friends, do you?”

  “None that I'm aware of,” answered Nighthawk.

  “Well, at least you've got a lady, which is more than the rest of us have.”

  “She's a part of the team, just like you.”

  Blue Eyes grinned. “You mean you don't rut in the muck and then stand guard while she lays her eggs?”

  “Is that how blue dragons do it?”

  “Probably not,” answered Blue Eyes. “It's been so long, I can't remember exactly how we do it.”

  “Is he here for any reason other than to keep you amused?” asked Friday, biting through his insect's carapace with a sickening crunching noise.

  “He's here to help me find Ibn ben Khalid.”

  “That's what I'm here for.”

  Nighthawk shook his head. “I'll need you after we find him.” He turned back to Blue Eyes. “You'd better be right about Cellestra IV.”

  “I know he's been seen there a number of times,” said Blue Eyes. “Maybe he's got a camp there, maybe he doesn't—but he sure passes through a lot.”

  “We'll be there in about five hours. Once we land, where do we go?”

  Blue Eyes shrugged. “I've never been on Cellestra, remember? How would I know where someone like Ibn ben Khalid would be?”

  “When he came to your world, what did he do?” asked Nighthawk.

  “Took all the money out of my safe and left.”

  “He didn't get drunk, or stop by a drug den or a whorehouse or a bank?”

  “Not to the best of my knowledge. He came in, ordered a drink, refused to pay for it, and after a couple of minutes he'd make me take him to my office and open the safe. Then he'd fill a bag with cash and walk out as bold as you please.”

  “Who saw him on Cellestra?” persisted Nighthawk.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” answered Blue Eyes. “Miners. Gamblers. Bounty hunters. Who knows? Not a lot of people announce their line of work when they come into my tavern for a drink.” The dragon paused, then continued. “As for the governor, forget it—Cellestra doesn't have a governor. That's why there are so many bounty hunters there. Someone's got to enforce the law.”

  “What law?” asked Friday. “If there's no government, who made it?”

  “A telling point,” said Blue Eyes. “The minimal law as perceived by Men.” He turned to Nighthawk. “I believe it comes from your holy book. Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal. There's something about not coveting your friends’ wives, too, but no one pays much attention to that.”

  “Sounds like just the kind of place I used to find work,” commented Nighthawk.

  “It's just the kind of place where Ibn ben Khalid can walk the streets with impunity,” replied Blue Eyes. “No law.”

  “There's a million-credit price on his head. He starts walking down any street that's got a bounty hunter on it, he's a dead man.”

  “Perhaps they aren't all as opportunistic as you are.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that he's a hero on the Frontier. Maybe even the bounty killers believe in his cause.”

  “More likely, they know what will happen to them before they can leave the planet,” put in Friday.

  “You think he's that popular?” asked Nighthawk curiously.

  “Empirical evidence would seem to confirm it.”

  “Empirical evidence?”

  “He's still alive,” said Blue Eyes.

  “Maybe he's just lucky.”

  “Do you believe in luck?” asked Friday.

  “No,” admitted Nighthawk.

  “Neither do I,” said Friday.

  “I do,” put in Blue Eyes. “That's why I don't allow gambling in my establishment.” He threw back his head and hooted in amusement, then sobered just as quickly. “Your friend Kinoshita's been lucky so far, too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” said Blue Eyes. “He's lucky Friday hasn't killed him.”

  “Why is he here?” asked Friday. “I know why you and I have come, and the female is an empath, and this one"—he gestured disdainfully at the dragon—"may have information and at least knows what our prey looks like. But what does Kinoshita bring to the team?”

  “He may be the most important cog,” replied Nighthawk.

  “Why?”

  “When this is all over, assuming I live through it, I don't plan on going back. He'll know how my creators will react, who they'll contact, where they'll search for me.”

  “Your creators?”

  Nighthawk made no reply, and the alien let the matter drop.

  The ship altered course a few minutes later to avoid a meteor swarm, and Kinoshita emerged from his cabin to see what was happening. Friday promptly reached into his pouch and pulled out two more spider-like insects, taking a bite of one and offering its squirming companion to Kinoshita.

  “Get that away from me!” snapped the little man.

  “I was just being friendly,” said the alien calmly, putting the insect back.

  “You mean you were just being Friday,” said Blue Eyes with a hoot.

  “Mind your own business, dragon,” said Friday coldly.

  “Who elected you leader?” demanded Blue Eyes. “I'll say what I want whenever I want.”

  “An
d I'll back him up!” snapped Kinoshita.

  Suddenly Melisande emerged from her cabin and stood in the doorway to the galley, looking pale and nervous.

  "You've got to stop!" she said weakly.

  “Stop what?” asked Kinoshita.

  “You know I'm an empath. I'm trying not to get involved, but there are too many savage emotions here. You could drive me insane before we ever encounter Ibn ben Khalid.”

  “I thought you couldn't read blue dragons,” said Nighthawk.

  “I can't,” she said. “It's the other two.”

  “You can read my emotions?” asked Friday with open curiosity.

  “Not all of them, and not clearly,” replied Melisande. “But you have such hatred for Ito...”

  “I knew it!” growled Kinoshita. He turned to Friday. “Do you want to have it out here or later? It makes no difference to me.”

  “That's enough,” said Nighthawk. He looked at his motley crew. “Like it or not, you're a team. I chose you, I assembled you, and if anyone's going to do any killing around here, I'll be the one to do it. You don't have to like each other. You don't have to like me. You just have to remember that you're a team, and the first one who forgets it has to answer to me—and I promise you won't enjoy it. Is that clear?”

  Kinoshita grudgingly nodded his agreement.

  “What about you?” demanded Nighthawk of Friday.

  “I will not strike the first blow in anger.”

  “Not good enough,” said Nighthawk. “If you strike any blow, first, second, or three thousandth, in anger or in jest, you'll wish you hadn't. Do you understand?”

  Friday nodded his head.

  “That's not good enough. Say you understand.”

  “I understand,” muttered the alien.

  Nighthawk turned to Blue Eyes.

  “Don't look at me. I'm the most peace-loving dragon you ever saw. I don't even carry a weapon.”

  “You could bite either of their heads off with that mouth,” said Nighthawk.

  “If I do, then you can threaten me.”

  Nighthawk stared into the dragon's clear blue eyes until the latter finally looked away.

  “This is not a court of law, you have no legal rights, and I am not a compassionate man,” said Nighthawk. “Try to keep that in mind.”

  “May I go back to my cabin now?” asked Melisande. “Or do you want to warn me too?”

  “You know if I was telling the truth or not. That's enough. You can leave.”

  “Thank you,” she said, turning and walking back the way she had come.

  Nighthawk considered making Friday and Kinoshita shake hands, but he didn't know if that was a meaningful gesture for the alien, and he could tell that the thought of touching Friday made Kinoshita's flesh crawl.

  This is some crew, he thought wryly. I wonder if we can avoid killing each other long enough to find Ibn ben Khalid?

  12.

  Cellestra was a dirty brown world without much in the way of natural resources. But it was an oxygen planet, and it possessed potable water, and it existed at a midpoint in the starlanes between the major Frontier worlds of Palinaros III and New Kenya. So, when it turned out that the soil wasn't rich enough for it to become a farming world, and what lay beneath the soil wasn't really worth extracting, it became a trading world, a small but bustling center of commerce.

  It was here that subspace messages were received from the Oligarchy and redirected further into the Inner Frontier. A trio of import-export companies competed for the business of anyone shipping to or from the Frontier worlds. Thousands of preserved animal carcasses were shipped to the taxidermists who plied their trade on Cellestra. Banks traded in Oligarchy credits, New Kenya shillings, Maria Theresa dollars, Far London pounds, New Stalin rubles, Pukkah IV rupees, and a dozen other currencies, with the exchange rates changing and adjusting every ten seconds.

  The population was close to twenty thousand Men, and perhaps three thousand aliens of various races, mostly Canphorites, Lodinites, and Mollutei. Almost all of them were involved in some form of interstellar commerce.

  As Nighthawk's ship entered orbit around Cellestra, his radio came to life.

  “Identify yourself, please,” said a cold, almost-mechanical voice.

  “This is the Olympus 6, planet of registry Deluros VIII, commanded by Jefferson Nighthawk, two Standard days out of Sylene IV.”

  “Purpose of visit?”

  “Commerce.”

  “Type of commerce?”

  Kinoshita made a negative gesture.

  “None of your damned business,” answered Nighthawk.

  “We are loading landing coordinates into your ship's computer,” said the voice without missing a beat. “Enjoy your stay on Cellestra.”

  Blue Eyes hooted and Kinoshita grinned.

  “You've never been here before,” said Melisande. “How did you know we could get away without telling them our reason for landing?”

  “Nighthawk gave him our reason for landing: commerce,” answered Kinoshita. “This is the Frontier, not the Oligarchy. He had no authority to ask us what kind of business.”

  “That doesn't make sense. It's his world, after all. It must have laws.”

  “If you're a trading world, probably half of the goods that pass through are contraband. You don't attract a lot of business if word gets out that you're asking embarrassing questions.”

  “The voice also didn't ask if you had any non-humans in your crew,” added Friday. “That was another departure from Oligarchy procedure.”

  “They're still doing that?” asked Nighthawk.

  “They've been doing it for four millennia,” answered Friday. “Why should you think they have changed?”

  Nighthawk shrugged. “Men are outnumbered thousands to one in the galaxy. You'd think we'd start making accommodations.”

  “The race that is in the ascendancy never makes accommodations,” said Friday. “Fortunately, the galaxy has a long memory. Today Men possess the greatest technology and weaponry, and this has made an arrogant race even more arrogant. But you did not dominate the galaxy in times past, and the day will come when you do not do so in the future. I would not wish to be a Man on that day.”

  “I don't think you have to worry about it,” said Kinoshita sardonically.

  “I don't. As long as I can kill Men now, I am content.”

  “How about you?” asked Kinoshita, turning to Blue Eyes. “Do you feel that way too?”

  “Absolutely not,” answered the dragon with an amused hoot. “Man is the only race that believes in gratuities.”

  “So he wants us dead because we have the best weapons, and you want us alive because we're the biggest tippers?” said Kinoshita with a smile. “Well, that's probably as honest a pair of answers as I'm likely to hear.”

  “I could lie and say you're a physically lovely race,” said Blue Eyes. “If it would make you happier, that is.”

  “Not at all,” said Kinoshita. “But somehow, I get the distinct impression that lying would make you happier.”

  “Truth is a greatly overrated virtue, to quote your Jane Austen,” agreed the dragon.

  “If you say she said it, I'm sure she did—but somehow I don't think she was encouraging blue dragons to lie from morning ‘til night for the sheer joy of it.”

  Blue Eyes shrugged. “It's all a matter of interpretation.”

  “Go strap yourselves in,” interrupted Nighthawk. “We're about to land.”

  They touched down a few moments later, and emerged from the ship onto a slidewalk that took them to Customs. Given their appearance and the lack of any records of a current Jefferson Nighthawk, they passed through with a minimum of hassle.

  “What now?” asked Melisande as they emerged from the spaceport into the warm Cellestra sunlight and took a broad, rapid-moving slidewalk toward the city center.

  “Now we go into town and see what we can learn.”

  “I can already tell you that your presence is making most of the m
en we've passed very apprehensive.”

  “They don't know who I am,” said Nighthawk.

  “One look at you and they know generically,” answered Melisande.

  “That's encouraging,” said Kinoshita.

  “That I scare people?” asked Nighthawk.

  Kinoshita nodded. “They're not criminals. They're just spaceport employees and businessmen. They have no reason to be afraid of a man who might be a killer or a bounty hunter...”

  “...Unless they're afraid I've come for someone they don't want to see killed,” concluded Nighthawk. He considered the notion. “It's a possibility.”

  “So, to repeat, what do we do now?” asked Melisande.

  “We find a hotel. We've all been cooped up in that ship too long. We could use a little time away from each other, and a little room to stretch in. This isn't the Oligarchy, so there shouldn't be any trouble finding a place that will take all five of us.” He paused. “Then, after dark, we'll go out looking for some sign that Ibn ben Khalid's here, or at least that someone can direct us to wherever he is.”

  “We'll look kind of strange, all five of us together,” said Blue Eyes.

  “That's why we'll split up.” He faced Blue Eyes and Friday. “You two go to wherever the aliens hang out—even here on the Frontier, I can't believe they're rubbing shoulders with Men. Ito and I will hit the human gathering places. Melisande will come with me.”

  “Why not with Kinoshita?” she asked.

  “Because if there's any trouble, I can protect you better—and until we learn where Ibn ben Khalid is, you're the most valuable member of the team. We'll arrange a meeting place later.”

  Nighthawk stepped onto a slower local slidewalk as they approached a small hotel, and his companions followed suit. The hostelry had seen better days, but it was clean enough, and it possessed a restaurant that catered to both humans and aliens. The five took a quintet of rooms at the far end of the fourth level, relaxed until dinnertime, and then descended to the main lobby.

  “Friday, if they've got anything you can eat, I think it would be best for all parties concerned if you sat as far from us as possible,” announced Nighthawk, and Kinoshita nodded approvingly.

  “I have no more taste for dead flesh than you have for my form of nutrition,” responded Friday. He stared directly at Kinoshita, “I just have better manners.”