Chapter 2
INQUEST
THE RIGGERGUILD hearing room was dead silent.
Its domed ceiling was coated with a multi-optic laminate that made it glitter like stars against darkness. Legroeder let his gaze wander along the ceiling, and for an instant the stars were transformed into the luminous features of the Flux.
Skidding toward the Chimney wall, puking with light: pockets of quantum chaos, where images could distort without warning. The ship plummeted through, and suddenly the landscape was strobing with stark reversals of light and contour. Behind him was the sparkle of weapons fire. Before his heart could beat twice, a spread of flux-torpedoes exploded, triggering a cascade of distortions that sent his ship spinning . . .
The holograms of the three panelists sat at the curved table at the front of the room. Legroeder sat with his young, Guild-appointed counsel, a Mr. Kalm-Lieu, facing the panel from a smaller curved table at the center of the room. Despite the expansive design, the room was designed to keep the inquest panel and its subjects rigidly separated. Only Legroeder and Kalm-Lieu were physically present.
From the front bench, the holo of the RiggerGuild inquest chairwoman was speaking. Her voice seemed hollow, devoid of inflection. Legroeder couldn't remember her name, had never met her in person. "Rigger Legroeder, please remember that there are no charges being considered in this hearing. Our purpose is not to determine guilt or innocence, but rather to determine if you should be represented in this matter by the Guild of Riggers. We hope you understand the distinction."
Legroeder shrugged in disbelief, staring up at the dome...
The pocket of Flux-abscess turned itself inside out with the torpedo blast, hurling him into a sudden opening that he felt rather than saw, a breach caused by the blast. Steering by an intuition that seemed almost supernatural in its accuracy, he threaded his way through . . . and by the time he caught his breath he was coasting free in the open Flux, well away from the Chimney, away from the raider outpost, and apparently free of pursuit. Spying a current leading away from that place, he rode it for a long time, until he could decide on a destination world. The choice in the end was made for him; there was only one major world within his reach that was free of pirate influence: Faber Eridani, well beyond the borders of Golen Space. Not an easy flight in a small ship; but if he wanted to be free, really free, he had no choice but to risk the distance. Checking frequently on Maris, still in near-stasis in the suppression-field, he rigged their ship toward a new life and new hope for both of them. Toward the protection of the Centrist Worlds and the RiggerGuild, their own people . . .
Legroeder trembled with anger. He avoided looking at the inquest panelists. To have escaped from the raiders and gotten Maris to a hospital here, only to be put on trial for collaborating with pirates in his own capture? It was impossible! Who would have believed it?
"Counsel, may we take that as a yes?" asked the voice of the inquest chair.
Kalm-Lieu glanced uneasily at Legroeder. "Yes, Ma'am."
"In that case, Rigger Legroeder, we will put the question to you again. Please describe your actions, seven years ago, leading up to the taking of Ciudad de los Angeles by the Golen Space pirates."
Legroeder felt as if he were standing outside of his own skin, watching himself—a small, olive-skinned man with gloomy eyes, trying to comprehend the trap he was caught in. He sighed and rubbed his temples, forcing himself to suppress that image.
"Let me understand," he said slowly. "I've just escaped from forced servitude with interstellar pirates, and I've come to you for sanctuary and offered to tell you everything I know about the pirates' operations. But all you care about is what happened when my ship was attacked seven years ago—and whether you can pin something on me for it?"
"Not at all, Rigger Legroeder. But we must have the facts before us."
"Including facts about the ghost ship? About Impris?"
The voice of the court inclined her virtual head. "You may describe your capture in whatever way you feel is appropriate. Now, if you please..."
Legroeder closed his eyes, summoning the events of seven years before. The beginning of the nightmare...
THE CIUDAD de los Angeles was a passenger/cargo liner, a good ship carrying a modest but respectable manifest of fifty-two passengers and twenty-four crewmembers, including the rigging complement of seven.
Legroeder was among the more seasoned of the riggers, three of whom were stationed in the net at any given time. Legroeder's specialty was the stern-rigger station, the anchor; he was to be the maintainer of good grounding and common sense, especially if the lead and keel riggers became carried away with the imagery of the Flux. He was known as a rigger with a a dark outlook, but solid reliability.
Ciudad de los Angeles was en route to Varinorum Prime—a little close to the edge of Golen Space, but on a route considered fairly safe from pirate attack. It was Legroeder who first sighted the other ship in the Flux, flickering into view off to the portside of the L.A. It appeared to be on a course parallel to theirs. The sighting of any other ship in the Flux was such a rare event that the image was branded on his memory: the ship long and pale and silver, like a whale gliding slowly through the mists of the Flux. He didn't just see it, but heard it: the soft hooting of a distress signal so thin and distant as to be nearly inaudible.
Take a look off to the left, and tell me if you see what I see, he said, alerting his rigger-mates to the sighting. He strained to get a better reading on the distress signal. He couldn't quite make it out, or decipher where the ship was going; it seemed to be passing through a layer of the Flux that was separated from the L.A. by a slight phase shift, though he couldn't quite discern a boundary layer.
I see it, too, said Jakus Bark from the keel-rigger position. Is that a distress signal? We'd better call the captain. Bridge—Captain Hyutu—?
When Captain Hyutu checked in, he reported that he could just make it out in the bridge monitors. By now, the distress beacon had become more audible. The codes didn't match anything in the L.A.'s computer, but soon they could hear voices calling across the gulf: "This is Impris . . . Impris calling... please respond... we need assistance... this is Impris, out of Faber Eridani..."
Legroeder and the rest of the crew were stunned.
Impris.
The legendary Flying Dutchman, the ghost ship of the stars? Impossible! Officially, Impris was nothing more than a legend—a ship that vanished into the Flux during a routine voyage, well over a hundred years ago. Impris was hardly the first, nor the last, ship to vanish during a voyage, especially in time of war. What made her the stuff of legend was the recurring rumor of ghostly sightings—not just by one ship or two, but by generations of riggers. None of the sightings was clear enough to constitute proof of her continued existence, but the number of alleged sightings was enough to keep the legend alive.
It was as though Impris had faded into the Flux, never to reemerge into normal-space; and yet neither had she perished. So the tale in star riggers' bars grew: that she was like the Flying Dutchman of old, the legendary haunted seagoing ship whose captain and crew were doomed to sail through eternity, lost and immortal and without hope.
Myth, said the Spacing Authority's archives.
Real, said the riggers in the bars.
In the Flux it could be hard to tell the difference.
Not this time, though. Legroeder saw the ship moving through the mists of the Flux, and his crewmates saw it, too. Captain Hyutu of the L.A. was no rigger, but he was an experienced captain who could read the signs in the monitors as well as any. When he heard the distress call, he gave the order to the riggers: Make slow headway toward that ship. See if you can bring us alongside. An announcement echoed throughout the L.A. They were preparing to render assistance to a vessel in distress.
The L.A. closed the gap between the ships.
And that was when the Flux began to light up, the misty atmospheres around the L.A. suddenly flashing like a psychedelic light show. What the hell—? muttered Legroeder.
And then the sounds... DROOM! DROOM! DROOM!... like booming kettle drums, drowning out the distress call. Legroeder's heart pounded as Impris turned toward the L.A., and for a few seconds he thought the sounds were coming from Impris herself.
Are they turning to dock? called Jakus, from the keel.
They're on a collision course! cried the lead rigger. Hard to starboard! Captain, sound collision!
Legroeder's stomach was in knots as he struggled, in a Flux that had suddenly become turbulent and slippery, to bring the stern around.
Captain Hyutu intoned, Steady as she goes! Steady, now! The riggers obeyed, Legroeder holding his breath. And then Legroeder saw what Hyutu must have seen in the monitors: the other ship was shimmering and becoming insubstantial. As she closed with the L.A., turning, the front of her net cut across the portside bow of the L.A.'s.
And for just an instant, Legroeder felt the presence of the rigger crew of the other ship, heard their cries of anguish and despair, felt their awareness of him... and then Impris and her crew became altogether transparent, and suddenly were gone.
Gone.
A heartbeat later, another ship emerged from the mist in its place: a spiky and misshapen ship with a grotesque, leering face on its bow and weaponry bristling down its side. What—? Legroeder breathed, along with the others in the net, and then someone cried,
Golen Space pirates! The booming crescendoed:
DOOOOM!... DOOOM-M-M!... DOOOM-M-M!
The Flux came ablaze with light, and it was all coming from the marauder ship. It had been hiding behind Impris, using the doomed ship as a shield.
Away! Legroeder cried, and they tried to turn the
L.A. away to flee, but it was already too late. The pirate riggers had spun threads of deception and fear, and they seemed to have a command over the stuff of the Flux that the L.A.'s crew did not. Within minutes, the two ships were bound together in coiling, distorted currents of the Flux, and then the marauder ship was pulling them up through the layers of the Flux into the emptiness between the stars. As they emerged into normal-space, light-years from the nearest help, the emerald and crimson haze of the great Barrier Nebula obscured even the sight of the distant stars that had been the L.A.'s destination.
The boarding was a brief, violent affair. The liner, carrying some limited armament against the perils of Golen Space, was hopelessly outmatched. Her fighting potential lasted about ten seconds, and by then half a dozen members of the crew were dead. To Legroeder it was a blur—emerging from the net and staggering out onto the bridge, he was met by armed raiders and herded through the ship's passageways at gunpoint, through clouds of noxious gas and smoke. From the airlock, he was shoved through a passage tube to the raider ship— and then into a hold with about thirty other people; and his life as a free man came to an end.
THE COURT panel interrupted him, stating that they would get to his "captivity period" at a later time. Legroeder fell silent, gazing at the panel. "We'd like to know," said a man sitting to the right of the chairwoman, "if you can tell us a little more about the fate of others from the Ciudad de los Angeles." This man represented the Spacing Authority, the enforcement agency that dealt with pirates. Why was he here, if Legroeder wasn't on trial? "How many would you say were taken prisoner, and how many executed by the pirates?"
Legroeder stared at the man. "That's hard to say. I didn't see it all."
The man wore a pained expression, as though he hated asking such questions. "But what would be your best estimate?"
Legroeder turned to Kalm-Lieu in frustration.
Kalm-Lieu's soft, boyish features were twisted into a frown as he rose. "My client does not have that information, if it please the panel."
"Counsel," said the chairwoman, "we're only trying to complete our picture of the situation. If your client would give his best estimate as to the number captured, and the number executed by the pirates—"
Kalm-Lieu glanced at Legroeder and shrugged.
Legroeder sighed. "If I had to guess, I'd say that maybe half to two thirds of the crew and passengers were taken prisoner, and the rest killed during the boarding. Is that what you mean by executed?"
"Wouldn't you call it an execution to kill innocent people in the process of hijacking a ship?" asked the man from the Authority.
"Sure," Legroeder said. "I would." But in his seven years, he'd seen people summarily executed who weren't doing anything at all to resist. The thought of it made him ill, even now. But as for casualties in the boarding, he had never really known the true number, because most of them he never saw again—including Captain Hyutu. But he had the oddest recollection about the captain, one that had stayed with him all these years. In his last glimpse of Hyutu, he had seen on the captain's face an expression of outrage and indignation, as the raiders stormed through the ship. This would have seemed exactly right on another man's face. But not on Hyutu's: the man had always looked stiff and expressionless when he was angry. Legroeder had always wondered about that.
"I see," said the panelist.
The chairwoman of the panel spoke inaudibly to the other two. Then: "That will be all for today, Rigger Legroeder. Thank you for your cooperation."
KALM-LIEU ACCOMPANIED Legroeder to the Spacing Authority holding center and waited while Legroeder made a call to the hospital. No change in Maris's condition. Returning to join his counsel in the small visitors' lounge, Legroeder shook his head. Maris had been in a coma since their escape, and was now under intensive care in the hospital. Legroeder was torn between gratitude that she was alive and guilt that she lay in a coma because he'd encouraged her to flee with him. It wasn't just the wounds; the pirates had put implants in the back of her head specifically programmed to deter escape. The doctors here were at a loss as to how to remove them without killing her. Legroeder wondered if they'd ever even seen an implant, much less a booby-trapped one.
"I'm sorry," Kalm-Lieu said, handing him a cup of coffee—real coffee, supposedly, not like what they'd had at the raider outpost.
"Not your fault," Legroeder murmured, taking a sip. It burned going down.
"The news is on," Kalm-Lieu said, pointing to the holo in the corner of the room.
"News," Legroeder whispered. How long had it been since he'd seen news—uncensored journalism about what was happening in the rest of the world. Rest of the world, hell—the rest of the known galaxy. He cradled his coffee and watched.
"... Discussions toward improved trade relations with the Narseil homeworlds hit a snag today with revelations of a preferred status offered to Clendornan traders by the Narseil merchant coalition. Reports suggest that the Faber Eridani Trade Minister would be unwilling to open further doors to Narseil business interests without some clear, reciprocal action on the part of the Narseil. This seems to contradict earlier predictions that the Faber Eridani government would actively court increased trade with the Narseil..."
Legroeder sipped the hot liquid, letting the reporter's words drone on. These concerns felt so alien—Narseil, Clendornan, interstellar trading relations.
"You know," Kalm-Lieu said, shaking his head. "I wonder how long they'll go on pretending we don't need decent relations with the Narseil. It's not as if we have to like each other. We could still work with them."
Legroeder glanced at him, slightly dazed. Who cares? he thought. The politicos have always hated the Narseil.
"Stagnation," Kalm-Lieu said. "That's what's happened to our society. And it started a long time ago..."
"You still trade with other worlds, don't you?" Could things have changed that much?
Kalm-Lieu darted a glance at him. "Sure—of course we trade. But mostly just among humans— and Centrists, at that. In a lot of ways, we're a very isolationist society. But it's been so long, now..."
Legroeder squinted, trying to absorb what the lawyer was saying. He'd been away from civilization for seven years, and Faber Eridani wasn't his homeworld, anyway. But now that he was here, he supposed he'd better start learning...
The holo broke into his awareness again. "In other news from the off-world front, a preliminary RiggerGuild inquest has been looking into the strange case of a fugitive star rigger who arrived on this planet ten days ago, after a harrowing escape from Golen Space raiders—"
Legroeder choked on his coffee.
"Seven years ago, Renwald Legroeder served aboard the interstellar liner Ciudad de los Angeles when it was captured by raiders. Spacing authorities reportedly suspect Rigger Legroeder of collaboration in the capture, quoting sworn testimony that the rigger deliberately steered the Ciudad de los Angeles toward the pirate ship. Rigger Legroeder, through his Guild-appointed attorney, denies all such allegations.
Questioned by the press, Spacing Commissioner Ottoson North issued the following statement."
The reporter's image was replaced by that of a well-groomed man wearing a dress tunic with a gold, interlocking-ring insignia over his breast. "Let me make one thing clear: this Spacing Authority will never tolerate collaboration with pirates. However, Rigger Legroeder must have the opportunity to defend himself in a court of law. He has found his way to Faber Eridani after a death-defying escape from a pirate outpost, and he has every right to expect fair treatment. As long as Ottoson North is commissioner, he will get that fair treatment. For all we know, the man may be a hero."
The commissioner was interrupted by a reporter shouting, "What about allegations he was responsible for the loss of Ciudad de los Angeles?"
Commissioner North waved his hand to acknowledge the question. "We're investigating, as is our responsibility. All allegations will be examined. But there has been no guilt established yet—and it's the job of the Spacing Authority to determine facts, not allegations. It's also the job of the RiggerGuild to protect and defend the interests of riggers everywhere, and that includes Rigger Legroeder, as well as his colleagues. So let's allow the investigation to move forward, and let the evidence speak for itself, shall we?"
The holo cut away from North and back to the news desk, where the anchorwoman continued, "Despite these words of reassurance from Commissioner North, potentially damning testimony by the rigger himself was released by the RiggerGuild..."
The image cut to Legroeder saying, "We steered toward the other ship—" cut to "—the captain told us to maintain our course—" cut to "—we were headed directly toward the pirate ship—"
The holo cut again, to the panelist asking how many had been killed and captured, then to Legroeder snorting, looking with apparent disdain toward the ceiling. Then just his voice, answering, "Hard to say..."
And finally an echo of Commissioner North's voice: "—let the evidence speak for itself..."
Legroeder's coffee cup fell and rolled across the floor. He stared at the holo image, scarcely hearing as his attorney repeated, "That's not the way you said it. We can challenge that. Don't worry, we can challenge that..."
"THE PANEL has reached its decision," the chairwoman said, with the barest of opening prelimaries.
Legroeder drew a sharp breath. Reached its decision—? He turned to his attorney.
Kalm-Lieu was already on his feet. "Madame Chair, this is highly irregular! My client has not yet concluded his testimony."
"Irregular it may be," said the chairwoman, with a severe expression. "Nevertheless, the decision is made."
"May I ask why the rush to judgment?" Kalm-Lieu demanded.
"This is not a judgment, Counsel, merely a decision as to the RiggerGuild's involvement in the matter." The chairwoman sounded chiding. "The full legal proceedings have yet to begin."
"Nevertheless—"
"However, I will inform you that the reason for the timing is a request from the Spacing Authority that we move quickly so that the full investigation can begin. This matter is viewed very seriously by the Spacing Authority, and it is the wish of the RiggerGuild to cooperate to the fullest extent possible."
The chairwoman stared down, clearing her throat. "Now, then. It is the finding of this panel that your actions while serving aboard the Ciudad de los Angeles did in all probability bring harm to the passengers in your care, and to the shipmates with whom you served. Such actions are therefore in violation of RiggerGuild Code—"
Legroeder grunted in disbelief and tried to turn to his lawyer, but his head felt frozen in ice.
"—we find a high probability of conviction for dereliction of duty in Spacing Authority Court, and therefore have determined that the Guild of Riggers should not represent you in this matter."
"Madame Chairman, I object!" he heard his counsel protesting, miles away, it seemed. "My client has not even been permitted to present his full case—"
"Mr. Kalm-Lieu, please be seated. I repeat, the purpose of this hearing is simply to determine whether the RiggerGuild should take a role in the matter. We have determined that the Guild should not become involved."
The attorney was clearly flustered. "I really must—I mean, what about the circumstances? What about starship Impris? You have released misleading information to the press, and have given us no opportunity to—"
"Please be silent, Mr. Kalm-Lieu, while I finish reading the decision. You will have an opportunity to make a statement at the end."
The attorney stood for a moment, shaking with frustration. Finally he sat down beside his client.
Numbness was overtaking Legroeder. He stared at his thumbs and listened impassively as the rest of the judgment was read.
"Thank you. Rigger Legroeder, your service aboard Ciudad de los Angeles was a sacred trust. If you had acted with greater care and wisdom, you might have saved many passengers and crew from death or captivity at the hands of Golen Space pirates. Instead, in your belief that you had seen the legendary ship Impris, you pursued a phantom. As a result of those actions, your ship was boarded, and all hands taken or lost."
"Objection! He was hardly the only crewmember involved in the actions! What about the captain—?"
"Mr. Kalm-Lieu, silence! Rigger Legroeder was not the only one, perhaps, but he is the only one to stand here before us."
There were locked, silent glares for a half dozen heartbeats.
The chairwoman went on, "There remains the question of Rigger Legroeder's complicity with the society of raiders, in captivity. That we leave to the Spacing Authority to determine. But by his own admission, he participated in as many as fifty or sixty acts of piracy”
"Before he had the opportunity to escape!" protested Kalm-Lieu.
Was it Legroeder's imagination, or was his counsel losing spirit?
"—in those acts of piracy, uncounted innocent people may have lost their lives. Therefore, it is the judgment of this panel that Rigger Renwald Legroeder's membership in the Guild of Riggers shall be suspended, and he shall not be granted the protection of the RiggerGuild in this matter or any other."
Legroeder sat rigidly silent as the chairwoman concluded, "Mr. Kalm-Lieu, your vigorous defense of your client has been admirable. However, you will not be continuing in this role. Mr. Legroeder, following the conclusion of this hearing, the Guild legal offices will no longer be available to you. You will be remanded back to the Spacing Authority, for their judgment in the matter of your alleged complicity with the Golen Space raiders.
"And now, Mr. Kalm-Lieu. If you or your client would like to make a final statement, this is your opportunity."
Kalm-Lieu rose slowly, obviously struggling to find words to express his disbelief. "Ma'am, I can only reassert that this is a blatant violation of my client's rights. I ask for a moment to confer." He turned to Legroeder. "If this were a trial, I could file an appeal. But under the Guild rules—" He raised his hands helplessly. "This is extremely irregular. I had no idea this was coming."
Legroeder did not look at his lawyer, but slowly raised his gaze to the holo of the chairwoman. He was beginning to feel his anger burn through the numbness, but he had no target for it. He knew, as certainly as he knew his own name, that this panel could not possibly be acting on its own. It was just too irrational. But who were they acting for? He couldn't even guess. Finally, he glanced at his attorney.
"Do you want to voice your personal protest, for the record?" asked Kalm-Lieu.
"You've said it all already," said Legroeder. He raised his voice to fill the room. "It's clear this hearing has been a fraud from the start. So why belabor it?"
Kalm-Lieu grunted. He rose unsteadily, glanced back at Legroeder twice before speaking. "My client... protests the injustice of this hearing, Madame Chairman. He has nothing further to say." Kalm-Lieu sat again, fidgeting.
With a motion of her hand, the chairwoman sealed the judgment in the computer. "Then this hearing is adjourned." A moment later, she and the rest of the panel shimmered and vanished.
Legroeder forced himself up, a tightness in his chest.
"I'm sorry," Kalm-Lieu said.
So am I. "What's my next step?"
Kalm-Lieu's eyes darted around the room uneasily. "I'm sorry, but I am no longer permitted to advise you. They've taken me off your case."
Legroeder felt his breath go out. "You mean I'm just left to twist in the wind?"
Kalm-Lieu gestured awkwardly. "That's not the way I want it, but—"
"But that's the way it is, isn't it?" Legroeder gestured toward the empty hearing table, the fury rising at last in his voice. "You mean you can't even tell me what's supposed to happen next? Who do I get to represent me with the Spacing Authority? What am I supposed to do now?"
"You're free to hire counsel, of course." Kalm-Lieu lowered his voice, and looked as though he were going to shrink away altogether. "Perhaps I could recommend someone—"
"Hire counsel?" Legroeder thundered. "I've been a prisoner in Golen Space for seven years, and I have nothing but the shirt on my back, and you tell me I can hire counsel?"
"I understand how you must feel—"
"Oh, do you?" Legroeder snapped. He shouted toward the front of the room. "Do you understand what it's like to be betrayed by the people who are supposed to be defending you? Do you understand
that?"
"Please. This won't help."
"Then what will? Sitting here arguing RiggerGuild code, instead of trying to find out why they're blaming me for what a band of pirates did to my ship?"
Kalm-Lieu's face was filled with remorse. Two security agents had appeared at Legroeder's side. "I'm afraid," Kalm-Lieu said, "you'll have to stay in confinement with the Spacing Authority until your hearing. Unless you can post bond..." His hands fluttered helplessly.
Legroeder snorted in disgust. Post bond? With what? Even his back salary from the owners of Ciudad de los Angeles was in escrow until the matter was settled. He shook his head once—and without another word, strode out of the hearing room, the guards close behind.