"Hey, Maniac? What's your purpose in life?"
"Shit, that's easy. I'm here to strap on a starfighter and rack up as many kills as possible. I am a killing machine. I am population control. I am the final glimpse before eternity. Sivar loves me. I send him fresh Kilrathi souls."
"Seriously."
" Seriously. I am here to kill, kill, kill. And I'll give back to the universe by a making a few babies. But not any time soon. I need another decade or so of practice, with, of course, as many women as possible. You stand on your marble mountain and tell me I'm shallow. But I got no illusions about this. And if there is a supreme being, then I have to get credit for being exactly who I am. Love me. Hate me. But you have to respect that I know what I'm about. You? You keep turning back to this Pilgrim thing. So your mother was a Pilgrim. So what. Look at these people. Look at what they've done. You want to dial into this?"
Blair jerked himself off the cot and beat a fist into his palm. "Not all Pilgrims are like this. I wish somebody would teach me who they really are. Then maybe I'd know what I'm about. And so would you."
With a laugh, Maniac replied, "You're about fear. You're about confusion. You're about running. And it would make me feel a whole lot better if you were about kicking ass."
"Even if I were, what could we do about it? Try to pull off some pathetic diversion? You complain that you're sick, then the guard opens the door and you pound his ass? Then you open my cell, we take the guards' weapons, hightail it through the ship, and take Aristee at gunpoint? We're living this. It ain't some bad movie."
"We got nothing to lose. I say we try anyway." Blair threw up his hands. "Go ahead. You can add stupidity to what you're about."
14
VEGA SECTOR.DRY QUADRANT.PEPHEORO SYSTEM JUMP POINT.KIS SHAK AR'ROC BATTLE GROUP.
2654.098. 0330 HOURS IMPERIAL STANDARD TIME
Admiral Vukar sat rigid in his command chair, his gaze traveling intently from station to station as the Shak'Ar'Roc's bridge crew prepared to jump. His officers had just come off a five hour respite, and they appeared invigorated by the notion that they would once more pick up their quarry's scent. Every heart was in the hunt…
Tactical Officer Makorshk had predicted that the supercruiser would go to the Hell's Kitchen system, to a planet called Neth-eryana, to a Pilgrim enclave called Triune that stood directly in the supercruiser's last known trajectory. At tremendous risk, they had jumped back to Lafayette, moved on to Montrose, then on to Pephedro. Vukar felt certain that they had been spotted by Confederation reconnaissance probes, but he also felt certain that if they kept moving, they would remain relatively safe. He had already driven his battle group to its limit and had lost the Fralthi-class cruiser Caxkolee along the way. The ship's drive system had malfunctioned, and those warriors assigned to her had been transferred to the battle group's remaining six cap ships. As usual, they had set the cruiser to self-destruct to avoid its confiscation and study by the apes. Vukar wished they could hide the cruiser's debris from Confederation detection, but he lacked the time and resources for such a massive clean-up operation in enemy territory.
"Distance to jump point?" he asked Makorshk.
"Two-point-nine kilometers. Jump in three-point-zero-one standard minutes. All ships report positive lock on target. Final course corrections have been initiated. Jump commitment will occur in exactly three-point-one-one standard minutes, my Kalralahr."
Vukar flexed his fingers impatiently. He pictured himself seizing the supercruiser's captain by the neck and lifting him into the air. He would strangle the life out of the ape, demonstrating that their species had at least one tenet in common: justice through revenge. He stole another look at his tactical officer and considered the second fang's demise should the calculations prove wrong. For ten long days Vukar had placed his trust in the young warrior. On the other side of the jump point lay Makorshk's fate, and Vukar suspected that his subordinate knew that. Three days ago, the second fang had come to Vukar's ready room to assure him that their course was logical. Vukar had not wanted to hear about logic. He had asked Makorshk what his heart told him.
"My heart tells me nothing," Makorshk had replied.
"Listen more closely."
"As you wish."
"Fail to listen, fail to rely on your instincts, then you fail. This is the way of Sivar."
Since then, Vukar sensed that the second fang had reweighed his primitive beginnings and might draw on them now as a source of power. Makorshk had not come to Vukar with this revelation, but the glimmer in the young warrior's eyes seemed generated by an innate energy and not by thoughts of self-satisfaction. Makorshk had finally committed his heart to the hunt.
"Time?" Vukar asked the second fang.
"Thirty seconds to jump point."
"Mute the alarm before it sounds."
Makorshk threw a switch. "Alarm muted."
"All stations at pre-jump readiness," reported Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki. "Escorts confirm that Point of No Return velocity for Hell's Kitchen jump point has been achieved."
Syl'rkai, the present radar officer, suddenly lifted his voice. "Kalralahr? We have acquired a contact bearing one-one-two by three-three-seven at a range of nine-point-four-one kilometers. Velocity is two one four KPS. It is a Confederation communications drone broadcasting a holographic message on multiple long-range frequencies. Language: Terran standard."
"Helm is locked to autojump system," Second Fang Yil'schk cut in with his necessary report.
Vukar swiveled his chair to face Syl'rkai. "Translate that message and route to bridgecomm."
The communications officer grunted his acknowledgment and beat a near-steady rhythm on his touchpad to initiate the command.
"Twenty seconds to jump point," Makorshk said.
Vukar narrowed his gaze on Syl'rkai. "Do you have the message?"
"Message translated and stored," the officer said. "Routing to bridgecomm."
A meter-wide disk located on the deck in front of Vukar's command chair began to palpitate with light, then a shimmering white column coalesced into a tall, gray-haired ape standing on the bridge of a Confederation supercruiser. The ape folded his arms over his chest and stared angrily at Vukar. His lips moved, and after a nanosecond delay, the translator engaged. "Captain Amity Driftmadien Aristee, Confederation ID number 225X741, you are hereby ordered to surrender your vessel at the nearest Confederation world. Should you fail to comply by calendar date one-five-eight, we will destroy every Pilgrim system and enclave and imprison every known Pilgrim within Confederation territory."
"Ten seconds to jump point," Makorshk shouted over the message.
"By the time you receive this, we will have already established no-fly zones around each of those settlements, which are, as you know, dependent upon imports. Don't force your people into suffering, and don't be the cause of their deaths. You may have little regard for your own life, but think of them. Do what's right for them." The ape took a step forward, his face growing tighter, more intense. "I assure you, we're not bluffing. I invite you to initiate long-range reconnaissance to confirm our presence, and I look forward to your reply. Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn, Chief of Fleet Operations, out."
"We're at the jump point," Makorshk cried, as the ship began to shudder. "We'll reach the gravity well's PNR in ten, nine, eight, seven, six-"
Vukar shot to his feet. "Abort the jump!"
Makorshk tilted his large head in confusion.
"Aborting jump," said Helmsman Yil'schk.
Comm Officer Ta'kar'ki's voice came in a wheeze. "Relaying abort order to battle group."
"PNR reached!" Makorshk said.
"Jump drive will not shut down," said Yil'schk. "Override clock exceeded. We are committed to the jump."