Meet Me at Infinity by James Tiptree Jr. Read Free Book Online Page A

speaker.
    “Quent to Rosenkrantz. I’ve found that ship.”
    The speaker crackled. Quent fended off Pomeroy’s arm, deftly appropriating the little man’s laser.
    “Do you read, Rosenkrantz?”
    “The ship is where, Acting Captain?” asked Sylla’s voice.
    “About fifty kiloms northeast of field, in a canyon,” Quent told him. “There is also a raiding party in sight, headed this way. They are armed. They have sighted me. Now hear this: You will signal Farbase at once and prepare to lift ship. I’m going after these raiders. Repeat, signal Far-base and secure ship. I am now being fired on. Out.”
    Knocking Pomeroy into the corner, Quent yanked out the speaker leads and slammed the sled at top speed back toward the field.
    “Sir—Lieutenant Quent, sir, don’t—”
    Quent ignored him. Presently he cut power and glided around the end of the field at bush level. They whispered out to the ship, dodged behind a landleg, and came upon Svensk and Sylla in the open port.
    Quent vaulted out, weapon in hand.
    “Have you signaled as ordered, Mr. Sylla?”
    The lutroid shrugged.
    “But what was one to report, Acting Captain?”
    “Precisely,” snapped Quent and started for the bridge with both lasers in his belt. They followed.
    Imray hulked in the command chair. He eyed Quent in silence, arms folded over his massive chest.
    “Feeling better, sir?” Quent snarled. He wheeled and thrust his jaw into Sylla’s muzzle. “I’ll tell you why you failed to signal Farbase. And why you two were hanging out in the open lock when I ordered you to secure ship. Because you know damn well there are no raiders here.”
    He had his back against the screens now and a laser drawn.
    “No ship! No Drakes. It’s all one big farce and all of you are in it. You, you clown Pomeroy—you, Captain Imray! What are you trying to hide? Smuggling? Extortion? Or do I have to pound it out of you?”
    He heard a rustle, saw Svensk’s hand at his vest controls.
    “No, no, Svenka,” Imray growled. “Battles we don’t need.” He shook his head heavily. “We been gesprüchtet. I tell you boys, Drake business no good.”
    “Agh, your Drakes, the whole thing stank from the start. Let me tell you something, gentlemen.” Quent shook the laser at Sylla, “You jeer about my training, but there’s a thing you don’t know about Academy life, my furry friend. In the years I’ve been a cadet I’ve been hazed and hoaxed and put on by experts. Experts!” His voice rose. “Caristo, what I’ve put up with. And you, gentlemen, are a clobbing bunch of amateurs. Tri-di gigs.”
    He snorted, glaring contemptuously at them. No one spoke.
    “You didn’t think I caught on when you handed me the ship? Cooking up some way to gash my record. Here in Sopwith—I was supposed to pass it up, wasn’t I? Oh, yes. And you—” He stabbed the laser at Pomeroy. “You were going to bugger the log so you could show I refused to aid aliens against Humans, right? Then bring charges? But why? I’ll be rotated out soon enough—why did you have to ruin me, too?” He scowled, “My father. Blackmail. You’ve got something going here. I’m going to take this ship apart, right here on the ground. It’s on record that you’re unfit for duty, Captain. You didn’t think of that when you got so clobbing elaborate!”
    They gaped at him. Sylla’s pupils swelled, contracted.
    “I tell you, smart boy,” Imray grunted. He scratched his chest. “Son, you mistake—”
    A shrill mew from Engines split the air. Imray jerked around. He yanked at his webs.
    “I got you, boy.”
    “Hold it,” shouted Quent. “Don’t try—”
    Sylla and Pomeroy dived for their consoles. Svensk was vanishing down the shaft.
    “I said ‘hold it.’ ” Quent grabbed the override lever. “You’re staying right here.”
    “Sit, son, sit,” Imray rumbled. “Is danger, I swear by the Path. If don’t go up, lose ship.”
    “That’s straight, sir. We’ll be killed if you don’t