Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 3 - Carpe Diem

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Carpe Diem by Sharon Lee

and Steve Miller

SECOND QUADRANT

Ramal Sector

The pilot stared at the readout in disbelief, upped the magnification,

and checked the readings once more, cold dread in his heart.

"Commander. Pilot requests permission to speak."

"Permission granted," Khaliiz said.

"The vessel which we captured on our last pass through this system is

moving under power, Commander. The scans read the life forces of two

creatures."

"Pilot's report heard and acknowledged. Stand by for orders. Second!"

"Commander."

"It was reported to me that none were left alive aboard yon vessel,

Second. Discover the man who lied and bring him to me at once."

His Second saluted. "At once, Commander." He turned and marched

from the bridge.

Khaliiz eyed the screen, perceived the ship-bounty slipping through his

fingers, and was displeased.

"Pursue."

Val Con cursed very softly, then snapped back to the board, slapped the

page into its slot, and demanded data: coords, position, speed, and

amount of power in the coils.

"Could we leave now?" asked a small voice to his left.

He turned his head. Miri was sitting rigidly in the copilot's chair, her

eyes frozen on the screen and the growing shape of the Yxtrang vessel. Her

freckles stood out vividly in a face the color of milk.

"We must wait until the power has reached sufficient level and the

coordinates are locked into the board," he said, keeping his voice even.

"We will leave in a few minutes."

"They'll be here in a few minutes." She bit her lip, hard, and managed

to drag her eyes from the screen to his face. "Val Con, I'm afraid of

Yxtrang."

Aware of the tightness of the muscles in his own face, he did not try to

give her a smile. "I am also afraid of Yxtrang," he said gently. His eyes

flicked to the board, then to the screen. "Strap in."

"What're you gonna do?" Miri was watching him closely, some of the

color back in her face, but still stiff in every muscle.

"There is a game Terrans sometimes play," he murmured, dividing his

attention between board and screen, fingers busy with his own straps,

"called 'chicken'...Strap in, cha'trez."

He flipped a toggle. "I see you, Chrakec Yxtrang. Pass us by. We are

unworthy to be your prey."

There was a transmission pause - or did it last a bit longer? - then a

voice, harsh as broken glass, replied in Trade. "Unworthy? Thieves are

always worthy game! That ship is ours, Liaden. We have won it once."

"Forgive us, Ckrakec Yxtrang, we are here by no fault of our own. We

are not worthy of you. Pass by."

"Release my prize, Liaden, or I shall wrest it from you, and you will die."

Miri licked her lips, steadfastly refusing to look at the screen.

Val Con's face was smooth and calm, his voice nearly gentle. "If I release

your prize, I shall die in any case. Pass by, Hunter. There is only I, who am

recently wounded."

"My scans show two, Liaden."

Miri closed her eyes. Val Con, measuring board against screen, eased

the speed of the ship higher, toward the halfway point.

"Only a woman, Ckrakec Yxtrang. What proof is that of your skill?"

There was a pause, during which Val Con slipped the speed up another

notch and pressed the sequence that locked in the coords.

"Will it please you, when you are captured, Liaden, to watch me while I

take my pleasure from your woman? Afterward, I shall blind you and give

you as a toy to my crew."

"Alas, Ckrakec Yxtrang, these things would but cause me pain." Coils

up! And the Yxtrang were finally near enough, beginning the boarding

maneuver, matching velocity, and direction...

"It would give you pain!" the Yxtrang cried. "All things give Liadens

pain! They are a soft race, born to be the prey of the strong. In time, there

will be no more Liadens. The cities of Liad will house the children of

Yxtrang."

"What then will you hunt, O Hunter?" He flipped a series of toggles,

leaned back in the pilot's chair, and held a hand out to Miri.

Slowly the ship began to spin.

There was a roar of laughter from the Yxtrang, horrible to hear. "Very

good, Liaden. Never shall it be said, after you are dead, that you were an

unworthy rabbit. A good maneuver. But not good enough."

In the screen, the Yxtrang ship began to spin as well, matching velocity

uncertainly.

Miri's hand was cold in his. He squeezed it, gave her a quick smile, and

released her, returning to the board.

More spin; a touch more acceleration. The Yxtrang moved to match

both. Val Con added again to the spin but left the speed steady.

"Enough, Liaden! What do you hope to win? The ship is ours, and we

will act to keep it. Do you imagine I will grow tired of the game and leave?

Do you not know that even now I might fire upon you and lay you open to

the cold of space?"

"There is no bounty on ruined ships, Ckrakec Yxtrang, nor any glory in

reporting that a Liaden outwitted you. But," he said, sighing deeply,

"perhaps you are young and this your first hunt - "

There was a scream of rage over the comm, and the Yxtrang ship edged

closer. Val Con added more spin. Ship's gravity was increasing - lifting his

arm above the board the few inches required to manipulate the keys was

an effort. His lungs were laboring a little for air. He glanced over at Miri.

She grinned raggedly at him.

"How much faster will you spin, Liaden? Until the gravity crushes you?"

"If necessary. I am determined that you will collect no bounty on this

ship, Chrakec Yxtrang. It has become a matter of honor." More spin. He

paused with his hand on the throttle.

"Speak not to me of honor, animal! We have toyed long enough. We

shall - "

Val Con shoved the velocity to the top, slammed on more spin,

hesitated, counting, eyes on the board -

Jump!

LUFKIT

Neefra's Tavern

The Terran creature's name was Jefferson, and it was sweating; it

talked jerkily, swigging warm beer down its gullet, moving its big, rough

hands aimlessly about, occasionally plucking at its companion's sleeve -

and talking, always talking.

Much of what it said was of no value to the Liaden who stood beside it,

delicately sipping at a glass of atrocious local wine; but Tyl Von sig'Alda

was patient, by training if not by inclination, and the bits of useful

information mixed in among the trash were jewels of very great price.

"Yxtrang," the creature was saying, fingering its empty mug in

agitation. "Well, it had to be Yxtrang, didn't it? Stands to reason - the way

the ship was cleaned out but not ruined. Coming back for it, Tanser said.

Sure to come back for it. Yxtrang get a bounty for captured ships..." It

faltered there, and its companion waved at the barkeeper for another beer.

The creature took it absently, drank, and wiped its mouth with the back of

a hand. It glanced furtively around the noisy bar and bent close enough for

its listener to smell the beer on its breath, the stink of its sweat, and the

reek of its fear. It was all sig'Alda could do not to recoil in disgust.

"Tanser knew it was Yxtrang," Jefferson whispered, voice rasping.

"Knew it. And he left 'em there. Alive. Could've put a pellet into 'em -

something quick and clean. But the turtle'd said let 'em go and the boss

said okay..."

Horror seemingly choked it, and it pulled back, eyes glistening, showing

a plentitude of white all around the irises. The one beside him sipped wine

and murmured soothingly that of course the ways of the Clutch were

mysterious, but that he had understood them not to involve themselves so

much with the affairs of - men.

"This one did," Jefferson said fervently. "Claimed some kind of kinship

with 'em both - brother and sister." It swigged beer.

"Crazy alien."

Most assuredly the victims were Val Con yos'Phelium and the female

companion; though why an agent might be traveling with such a one was

more than could be fathomed. Tyl Von sig'Alda assayed another sip of

syrupy wine. The female...Headquarters had assumed a mischance during

the journey home, assumed that the female had, perhaps, served for a

time as camouflage. A sound enough theory.

Unless, sig'Alda thought, training was somehow broken? At once the

Loop flickered to life, showing .999 against that possibility. He was aware

of some dim, faraway feeling of relief. The Loop was the secret weapon of

the Department of the Interior, an impartial mental computer implanted

only in the best of its agents. Its guidance was essential to the

Department's ascendancy over the enemies of Liad. It was an essential

part of training. Training could not be broken.

Jefferson leaned close, breathing its beery breath into sig'Alda's face. "I

have a son," it said hoarsely.

"Do you?" he murmured. And then, because the creature seemed to

await a fuller response, he said, "I myself have a daughter."

It nodded its head in barbaric Terran agreement and withdrew slightly.

"Then you know."

"Know?"

"Know what it's like," the creature explained, a trifle loudly, though not

loud enough to signify within the overall clamor of the tavern. "Know what

it's like to worry about 'em. My boy...And that turtle telling - bragging on

himself, maybe. Maybe not even telling the truth. Who can tell what's

truth to a turtle?"

Was that relevant, or more of the creature's ramblings? sig'Alda gave a

mental shrug. Who could tell?

"But what did he say?" he inquired of Jefferson. "The turtle."

"Talking about how his clan or family or egg or whatever it is will hunt

down the first and the last of a family, if you don't do what he says to do."

Jefferson gulped the last of the beer and set the mug aside with a thump,

black despair filling its half-crazed eyes. "And Tanser put 'em right in

Yxtrang's path, after the turtle'd said let 'em go free. Gods."

There was a long moment's silence, while the Loop presented the

chances of survival for Val Con yos'Phelium and his female, whomever and

whatever she was, stranded in a ship marked for Yxtrang reclamation and

deprived of coords and coils.

.001

So, then. He smiled at Jefferson. "Another beer, perhaps?"

"Naw..." The Terran was twitching, suddenly eager to be off, perhaps

conscious all at once that it had been spilling secrets wholesale into the

ear of a stranger.

sig'Alda laid a gentle hand on its sleeve. "Tell me, did anyone check to

see if the ship was still there? Even the Yxtrang might make an error from

time to time."

The despairing eyes gazed back up at his face. "It was gone when we

dropped back to look." It swallowed harshly. "Tanser laughed." Another

painful working of the throat. "Tanser ain't got any kids."

It stood away from the bar abruptly and held out a horny hand. "Got to

be going. Thanks for the beers."

sig'Alda placed his hand into the large one, forcing himself to bear the

pressure and the up-and-down motion. "Perhaps we will meet again."

"Yeah," Jefferson said, not very convincingly. "Maybe." Its lips bent

upward in a rictus that might have been meant as a smile. "G'night, now."

And it turned and strode away, leaving Tyl Von sig'Alda staring into the

depths of his sticky glass.

Jefferson went rapidly through side streets and back alleys, cursing his

tongue and his need and the horrible, ever-present fear in his belly.

The man had been Liaden - and maybe the woman, too. Yxtrang and

Liaden had been enemies, blood and bone, for longer than Terrans had

been on the scene. Jefferson swallowed against the fear's abrupt nausea.

Yxtrang would have special ways to treat a couple of representatives of

their old, most-hated enemy...

Jefferson leaned against a convenient light post to get his breath and

wait for the shaking to ease - but he only shook harder, gripping the post

in misery and closing his eyes.

He never saw the slender shadow take aim in the empty street, never

heard the gun's discreet, genteel cough or felt the pellet enter his ear and

rend his brain.

The Terran crumpled slowly, as if falling into a swoon, and lay still in

the puddle of light. Tyl Von sig'Alda slid his weapon away, glanced up and

down the street, then walked carefully over to the carcass. He made short

work of stripping the pouch and pockets of anything remotely valuable - it

was to appear a mere murder for gain, as might happen to anyone walking

alone in the dark back streets of Lufkit.

Jefferson had given much information freely; its continued existence

had been a threat to sig'Alda himself. More, its elimination was a minor

balance for the act of putting a Liaden - any Liaden - in the way of the

Yxtrang. That the Liaden had been a member of his own Department and

one of its best was a sad fact. Tanser's name had been duly noted;

sig'Alda's report would mention it, and another bit of balance would no

doubt follow.

sig'Alda stepped back, noting that the Loop gave him excellent chances

of attaining the shuttle to Prime Station and the deck of Raslain, his

passage away. Yet he hesitated, nagged by a consideration that was by

rights none of his, he who was assigned to determine what had become of

Val Con yos'Phelium, lost en route to his debriefing. And still there was the

damned female...No. He would leave tonight, information pertinent to the

mission having been gathered on Lufkit. His report to the commander

would reflect Jefferson's certainty that yos'Phelium and the female had

fallen to the Yxtrang bounty-crew, as well as the corroboration of the

Loop. It was futile to spend time backtracking the female. He was not

assigned to provide her a eulogy.

So thinking, he turned and faded into the shadows, leaving the street to

the puddle of light and that which lay within it.

LIAD

Trealla Fantrol

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Shan..." Nova yos'Galan flung forward and caught her brother's sleeve

in one slim hand. Head tipped back, she stared up into his face, seeing the

ice forming in the silver eyes and the lines of Korval stubbornness

tightening around the big mouth. "Shan, by the gods!"

He made the effort - he took a deeper breath, then another. "You tell

me that the First Speaker wishes me to contract-wed. Why now? Why not

last week or next week? Have you some sweet offer for the stupidest of the

Clan? This is arbitrary beyond sense, sister!"

She recoiled from the anger in both his words and his face. "It is Val

Con! I - I must consider what is proper. He has been missing all this

while..."

"Is he truly missing? I know I haven't seen him for some time, but

missing?"

Nova held up her hand, moved to the console, and touched several

buttons, bringing the computer screen to life.

He moved closer as she scrolled the information there, finally settling

on a spot.

"...the First Speaker's point is, however, valid insofar as it concerns the

necessity of the Nadelm's education," she read. "I shall undertake to make

myself available as soon as practicable following my thirtieth anniversary

Name Day for instruction on the proper administration of a Clan from

both the First Speaker and Korval's man of business. It is made extremely

clear by the First Speaker, my sister, that I am expected to graduate to

Delm very quickly."

Shan sensed the underlying impatience in those few words as clearly as

he felt the tension singing in Nova.

"His word, from the last letter I had of him, nearly three Standards

gone. His Name Day is more than a relumma past, and I have heard

nothing! I must prepare, for the benefit of Korval. yos'Galan must

prepare, as well!"

"Is he dead, then?"

His query was quite calm. Had she been less wrought up herself, she

might have mistrusted such calmness. As it was, she gasped and stared up

at him, dimly aware that somehow during the course of the interview the

lines of melant'i had shifted so that it was no longer Korval's First Speaker,

eldema-pernard'i, in conference with the Head of Line yos'Galan, but a

younger sibling pleading with an elder.

"Dead?" she repeated, golden fingers snaking about each other in

agitation. "How can I know? They answer no questions! The Scouts say he

was placed on detached duty to the Department of the Interior these three

years gone by. The Department of the Interior says he has been offered

leave and refused it; that it is not their part to force a man to go where he

would rather not. They refuse to relay the message that he come to his

Clan, when next he is able..."

And that, Shan thought, was not as it should be. Even the Scouts, who

had little patience with many things Liaden - even the Scouts, appealed to

in need, had sent broadbeam across the stars that Scout Captain Val Con

yos'Phelium was required immediately at home, on business of his Clan.

So had Val Con come, too, in remarkably short time, shaky with too many

Jumps made one after another, to stand and weep with the rest of them at

his foster mother's bier.

"If he will not come to us - " Nova was saying distractedly, "If he is so

angry with me, even now..."

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V1.0;ScannedandproofedbyLeroyKaneMadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.CarpeDiembySharonLeeandSteveMiller SECONDQUADRANT RamalSector Thepilotstaredatthereadoutindisbelief,uppedthemagnification,andcheckedthereadingsoncemore,colddreadinhisheart."Commander.Pilotrequestspermissiontospeak.""P...

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Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 3 - Carpe Diem

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