Unseen Friends, Unseen Foes

by Alcuin Fromm

Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7a, 7b

part 3

Lemm stood outside the police station and breathed in the humid night air. He had no idea where Captain Fengrick might be, and he did not want to see him, in any event. Without the silver four-seater, Lemm had to order a hovercab to make his way to the Spaceport.

Even in the middle of the night, the Olmeninian Central Spaceport swarmed with activity. Lemm, late for his meeting with the Secretary, rushed up from level to level in the central terminal, finally reaching platform 45-8-19 where his ship sat docked.

Tinnoli was pacing nervously outside the entrance to the causeway. “You made it,” he said as Lemm came up to him. “Let’s get in your ship where we can talk.”

Lemm opened the door to the causeway with his security code, then locked the door behind them. They moved quickly across the platform in silence, the lights of myriad ships and hovers criss-crossing around them. They boarded the ship, closed the gangway, and sat in the cockpit.

Tinnoli stared at Lemm for a moment. “What were you thinking!?”

“That’s what Ruuta asked.”

Tinnoli’s expression changed from exasperation to surprise. “Ruuta’s handling the case?”

“I guess so.”

Tinnoli shook his head. “This is as bad as it can get. Ruuta’s going to hurl everything he’s got against you.”

“And what does he have?”

“Oh, just the Executive Committee, the courts and the media. Otherwise, you’ll get a fair shake.”

Lemm sighed. “Thank you for bailing me out.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the secret funds from the Ministry. Yellevar’s going to be furious with both of us.” He shook his head again, this time to clear it. “One thing at a time, Lemm. First, let’s get a message out to your father.”

Lemm nodded and twisted his chair to face a computer console along the cockpit wall. His hands flew along the well-known buttons and panels. A green light told him the secure long-range connection to the Ministry on Jennok had been established. He linked in the comm booster and spun back to face Tinnoli. “All set,” said Lemm.

Tinnoli reached out to insert a datachip into the console when suddenly everything went dark. He dropped the chip.

“What in Creation?” said Lemm, pounding the panel. Nothing responded.

Tinnoli stared with wide eyes out the cockpit window. Lemm turned to follow his gaze. At the far end of the platform, the causeway door had become a bright rectangle of light from the interior of the Spaceport. The light disappeared.

“Someone just stepped onto the causeway,” said Tinnoli in a whisper.

“That’s impossible,” said Lemm. “I locked the door.”

Lights flashed behind them and the ship’s gangway began descending. Lemm turned to Tinnoli with a look of panic.

“Someone’s taken external control of the ship! I can’t override it.”

They stared in silence out the window as a black figure stalked slowly across the platform. Lights from passing ships slashed left and right like flashes of lightning. In the intermittent moments of illumination, Tinnoli and Lemm could see not a man but a blocky robot making its plodding way towards them.

“Do you have any weapons?” said Tinnoli.

“Whatever’s standard issue on a diplomatic vessel. Sidearm blasters, I think.”

“Get them.”

Lemm jumped up and went to the small armory cabinet in the ship’s aft, retrieving two blasters. Tinnoli met him in the central aisle of the ship. The gangway gaped open. Lemm gave the Secretary one of the sidearms, then tucked his own into his belt.

“These won’t do anything if that robot is energy-shielded,” said Lemm.

Tinnoli nodded. They both heard the first metallic clang of the robot’s foot on the gangway. Tinnoli turned to Lemm.

“Listen to me. Hide in the ship’s escape pod so it thinks there’s just one of us. I’ll give you a signal and you can surprise it, if necessary.”

“But—”

“No arguments,” said Tinnoli raising his finger like a scolding parent. “Go. Quick.”

Lemm dashed to the opposite end of the aisle and opened the small hatch to the cramped, single-seated escape pod. He crawled in and pressed himself to one side, peeking around the corner to see Tinnoli facing the gangway. He heard the whirring sound of the gangway rising and, a moment later, the robot stood in the central aisle facing Tinnoli. It was almost twice as tall as him, man-shaped, with a small, oval head atop a broad central torso.

“You are illegally boarding an Imperial vessel,” said Tinnoli. “State you license number and your operator’s name at once.”

A door hissed open halfway down the aisle. The ship’s captain, dressed in night clothes, stepped out with a look of shock. “What in—”

“Im ran nethrilli,” said the robot before collapsing to the ground. The air suddenly filled with a high-pitched whine coming from the robot’s torso, growing louder and higher with every second.

“A bomb!” shouted Tinnoli.

Lemm froze in panic, but Tinnoli wasted no time. He sprinted past the captain to the escape pod, shoved Lemm back into it, and slapped the manual release panel.

“Tell Yellevar I did my best,” he said as the hatch slammed shut.

A moment later Lemm was hurled against the same hatch as the explosive bolts jettisoned the pod into the Olmeninian night. The pod flew sideways, clearing the edge of the platform and continuing in a straight line for a few seconds before gravity began to bend its trajectory into a wide, descending arc. Below, the Olmenin skyline reached out for Lemm as the pod raced towards the buildings. He scrambled to the seat and peered out the tiny window.

The landing platform receded rapidly. He scanned the controls frantically as warning lights and alarms came to life. The pod had been designed for ejection in the vacuum of space and had no anti-grav repulsors. All he had for maneuverability were feeble auxiliary thrusters for limited zero-G docking adjustments.

Lemm found the rocket control and fired the rear thruster, rotating the pod 180 degrees. A view of the landing platform illuminated by a gigantic orange fireball gave way to starry sky and then the countless, oncoming buildings, growing larger by the second. With a few quick switches, he diverted all power to the rear thruster and jammed his steering upwards. The pod’s arc flattened and it crept forward but kept rushing towards the buildings. He only had moments. Then he noticed the Arena.

Still far off, the Moro Arena loomed large below him, its roof an arched dome. Between him and the Arena loomed many tall skyscrapers. A crazy, desperate idea came to him. He banked hard right and angled for the tallest building. It came up fast. Dropping the nose of the pod, Lemm threw his whole weight forward on the accelerator, as if he could physically push the thing faster.

The pinnacle of the building was an observation deck, an elegant, vaulted cupola. Lemm could already make out panicky figures pointing at him and fleeing to the opposite side of the deck. He shot towards it at a steep angle. Red warning lights flashed and klaxons screamed at Lemm in rage. He closed his eyes.

The pod flew past the rounded pinnacle of the cupola, then rocked as it struck the glass surface and scraped along the curve of the observation deck. Lemm cut his rockets and waited for the final moment before sliding off the edge. He screamed and put full thrust onto the underside thrusters. The pod sprang out and away from the building like a magnet repelled by an opposite charge.

In a new, sweeping arc, the pod fell towards the Arena below, but his angle was too sharp. Lemm fired both rear thrusters at full to again flatten out his arc. The wide, broad curve of the Arena dome rose up towards him. He set the underside thrusters at full to slow his descent and braced for impact.

The pod impacted the Arena roof with a crunching blow. Lemm felt an enormous weight of compression as he was mashed into his seat. Every bone in his body rattled at the same time. The thrusters, still at full, popped the pod back up into the air. Lemm, unable to see, disoriented, and terribly shaken by the impact, pushed the pod forward one last time in the hope of sliding it down along the dome. The pod reached the apex of its rebound, then began falling again. The second, lighter impact absorbed much of the pod’s remaining momentum. It rolled end over end along the Arena roof.

The rocking vibrations of the rolling stopped, and there was a heartbeat of suspended silence broken a moment later by a final crash. Lemm’s pod had slipped off the edge of the Arena’s roof and fell the remaining short distance to the ground. The pod teetered on its side for a moment before it flipped over to an upright position and remained motionless. Bystanders stared in shock at the unimaginable appearance of a smoking and smashed escape pod sliding off the roof of the Arena.

Lemm opened the hatch, which dropped down and hung lamely on broken hinges. He stepped out onto wobbly legs. Taking a deep breath, he felt no signs of injury other than a terrible ache in his back and the sensation of what would become many bruises. He straightened his vest and smoothed it down as people began rushing towards him. He pulled out his datapad.

“Dispatch 2349, how may we help you?” said a female voice.

“Yes, I would like to order a hovercab, please.”

* * *

Consul Anróyif paced back and forth in his office as Lemm sat waiting for the inevitable explosion. He watched the man struggling to organize his agitated thoughts. Lemm felt empty and desolate. After his crash landing, he had returned to the Spaceport and found his ship had been half-demolished by the bomb and was surrounded by police and technicians.

The ship’s central aisle where he had last seen Tinnoli had been reduced to a smoking mass of twisted metal. The police told him they found the remains of two victims. The captain and Tinnoli were both dead.

Anróyiv stopped pacing and hunched over his desk, glaring down at Lemm with a furious expression. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Finally, shaking his head, he began to speak in a voice quivering with anger. “What were you thinking?”

“That’s a question I will need to start posing to myself one of these days.”

The explosion came. “Don’t be flippant with me, you whelp! Since you’ve arrived here, you’ve assaulted a protestor, gotten arrested, had an Imperial ship blown up, and somehow damaged both the Exchange Building and the Moro Arena to the tune of over three and a half million Marks. You better pray the Diplomatic Corps covers that, because the Executive Committee sure as hell will not! And you think you can make jokes?”

Lemm’s own explosion followed. “Since I’ve arrived here, Consul, I’ve been harassed by a mob, unlawfully arrested, nearly blown up by a Revolutionary assassin robot, and just as nearly been reduced to a stain at the bottom of a crater! I don’t know what kind of planet you’re running here, but it’s not one I find particularly hospitable. I’m not even supposed to be here! I should be on a starship light years away from crooked politicians and Revolutionaries!”

“If only I could shoot you out into space, but—” A piercing buzz sounded and Anróyiv winced. “Now what?” He slapped a panel on his desk. “What is it?”

“Consul Anróyiv,” said a calm female voice, “a message just arrived from Tribune Ruuta. He insists the dinner with the Governor take place at the Overlook Restaurant on I.S. date 1236-45-8 at timemark 6-22-0.”

Anróyiv growled. “Yes, yes, fine.”

He cut the link without waiting for a response and turned back to Lemm. “You’ve got a court date tomorrow. Maybe, once you’re in prison, things will quiet down around here.”

Lemm glared at Anróyiv but his anger abated. What good could arguing achieve, he thought.

Anróyiv took a deep breath and seemed to calm as well. “You are suspended from duties until your trial, after which we will reappraise the situation on the basis of its outcome. Now get out of here.”

Lemm stood and left the office without a word.

* * *

Not knowing what else to do, Lemm returned to the Spaceport to see if he could salvage anything from his ship. He stepped out onto the causeway just in time to see a flat-bed transport freighter glide away with the remains of the crippled vessel. Various technicians were already hard at work repairing the damage to the platform.

A man in civilian clothes stood watching the transport grow smaller. He turned and noticed Lemm. “You can’t be here,” said the man striding over and waving his hand. “This is a restricted area.”

“That’s my ship there,” said Lemm pointing. “I am Ambassador Meetrich. Who are you, sir?”

The man hesitated. “Inspector Dinnit,” he said at last.

“Well, Inspector, I believe I have a right to see my own property. Where is that ship being taken?”

Dinnit made a squeamish expression and turned away from Lemm. The transport freighter was out of sight, but the man kept looking as if it were there. A long time passed in silence. “I can’t say.”

“What?” said Lemm. “I am an ambassador of the Empire to Olmenin and the survivor of a terrorist attack. Where is my ship being taken?”

Anguish played over Dinnit’s face, and he wrung his hands together.

Lemm changed his strategy. “Something is bothering your conscience, Inspector,” said Lemm in a soft, reassuring voice. “What is it?”

“We got strange orders, Ambassador,” said Dinnit sullenly. “Normally the wreckage would go to the Crash Investigation Site in Sector 23, but...”

Lemm batted down his impatience and waited.

“But an order came to bring it to the Hahneen Foundry. That doesn’t make any sense, Ambassador.”

“Who gave you the order, Inspector?”

The man remained silent and looked as if he wanted to jump off the edge of the landing platform. Lemm grasped the man’s upper arm gently.

“Inspector Dinnit, I need to know. For the good of the Empire.”

The man looked into Lemm’s eyes like a fearful child. He spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Ruuta. The order came from the office of Tribune Ruuta.”

* * *

For once, Lemm was pleased a hovercab driver ignored both speed and safety regulations. The craft whizzed past the noonday traffic as the driver deftly wove in and out of his aerial lane. Lemm clutched his seat and sweated, but every moment brought him closer to the Hahneen Foundry, and Lemm felt time was not on his side. The sooner he got there the better.

The obnoxious music the driver had selected faded out and the audio channel began a news broadcast. The driver moved to change the channel.

“No, wait,” said Lemm. “Leave that on for a minute.”

of the Central Spaceport. No injuries were reported, but the blast damaged a large portion of the platform and debris from the exploded vessel caused further damage to the Exchange Building and the roof of the Moro Arena. Cause of the explosion was a lack of proper plasma coolant within the Imperial vessel. In environmental news, the Executive Committee voted to increase the Carbon Tax by three percent over the next—

“Those damned Imperials,” said the driver. “They can’t even keep their own ships running right. Probably skimped on the coolant just to save a couple of Marks. Who cares if anyone gets blown up, right?”

Lemm stared blankly in disbelief. The entire report was false. And the sole proof had been whisked away before it could be investigated. Lemm’s sense of urgency increased. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said.

released on 500,000 Mark’s bail late last night. Along with aggravated assault, Ambassador Meetrich is being charged with an anti-Irethian hate crime. The trial is set for—

“Oh, turn that off, will you?”

* * *

To be continued...

Copyright © 2024 by Alcuin Fromm

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