The Network Strikes Back

by Gary D. Snyder

Chapter 9:

Much of the broad corridor of the Network cruiser was dark, but no more so than the thoughts of the imposing figure who strode along it. Every fifty feet or so shafts of light stabbed down from unseen source overhead to mark the perimeters of the passageway, and in the shadows between them half-seen shapes of armed troopers could be discerned. They were all seasoned warriors, the ruthless elite of the Network accustomed to hard fighting and not given to mercy or restraint, but even so each one shrank further into the shadows as the dark shape passed, unwilling to draw any attention from their dark master. Lord Versile ignored them, troubled at the moment by more pressing matters.

Massive doors slid silently aside at his approach and closed just as noiselessly behind him as he entered the private communications chamber. He touched a switch and waited patiently as the silhouette of his own master, the Chairman of the Network, took shape. "Your report, Lord Versile?" The voice was clipped and authoritative, the tone that of one who was used to having their way and with no time to deal with trifles.

"Grave tidings, my master," Lord Versile replied somberly. "Our operatives at Mos Slimey have failed. The princess' allies have escaped."

Surprise crept into the chairman's voice. "Are you certain?"

"My source is most reliable. There can be no doubt." There was a trace of irritation in Lord Versile's reply at the suggestion he might be in error.

"This is unacceptable." The figure on the screen brooded. "Our plans are close to fruition. We can't afford to discount any possible threat to them, no matter how small."

"The threat is greater than we realized, my master. One of the Royal Guard is with them."

"What?"

"There can be no mistake. The bounty hunters we dispatched to intercept them at Mos Slimey Spaceport were among the best. Only one of the Royal Guard could have handled them so efficiently."

The chairman's reaction was that of a small boy told that his birthday party had been cancelled. "They were supposed to have been neutralized!"

"Apparently our efforts were not as efficacious as we had hoped them to be," was Lord Versile unperturbed response. He extracted a small cylinder from his robes and inserted the data record into a small slot in the console before him. A grainy two-dimensional image appeared on one side of the screen containing the indistinct shapes of three small humanoids, a larger cloaked figure, and what could only have been the mechanical shape of a robot. "My private agent could not risk sending a more detailed representation, but these are the ones we now seek."

The chairman was silent as he studied the blurry picture. He quickly passed over the shapes of the robot and cloaked figure and concentrated on the smaller shapes. One was taller and thinner than the other two, and the second more squat and rather portly. The third, however, seemed to possess a distinctive curlicue of a brown topknot. There was a hissing of air as the chairman sucked in a breath of recognition. "Neutron!" The chairman pressed several buttons, activating private communication channels as Lord Versile waited silently. Three other images joined that of the chairman.

"This had better be good," one complained. "I was in the shower."

"And just who are you trying to fool, Junkman?" another retorted. "You never took a shower in your life."

"I never said I was taking a shower, Goobot," the Junkman snapped back. "Since I never use it, I was trying to figure out how much it might be worth. Anyone care to make an offer?"

The third newcomer scoffed. "Forget it. Anything from your ship I wouldn't touch without a full protective enviro-suit. That sort of defeats the purpose of getting into a shower in the first place. Besides, I'm tapped out."

The chairman's limited patience came to an end. "Junkman! Goobot! Khormak! Enough of this!"

"That's 'King Goobot', if you please," the Yokian sniffed.

"And 'Minister Khormak'," the Felangian put in.

"And…well, 'Junkman' is correct," the Junkman admitted. "But you could say 'please'. It never hurts to be polite in business. Especially," he added pointedly, "to your financial backers."

The chairman reigned in his temper. "As you wish. But I'm afraid we have problems. Big problems."

"If it's more money, forget it. I'm leveraged to the hilt," the Junkman replied.

"As am I," agreed King Goobot. "I've spent practically the entire Yokian treasury backing this scheme of yours so far."

Khormak nodded. "And I've called in every favor and pulled every string I could to help you out."

"All for a price," the chairman reminded them. "Just remember, once we pull this off you'll all be well-rewarded."

The Junkman's voice held a threatening edge. "We'd better be. You've got the better part of three entire planetary systems backing you."

"I'd say having exclusive trading rights within the Network's sphere of influence is a fair return for you, Junkman. And I think that returning control of Felangie to Minister Khormak and handing over Earth as a perpetual source of tribute and sacrifices to Yolkus is quite agreeable to your associates."

The three all murmured assent, rubbing manipulators and almost salivating with anticipation. King Goobot recovered from his reverie of greed and excess first. "But you said there was a problem. What is it?"

"Neutron."

The three conspirators reacted to the one word with simultaneous shock. "The Terran water sack?" the Junkman demanded to know. "What's he got to do with it?"

"Somehow he's gotten wind of what's going on. He was seen nosing around Mos Slimey Spaceport with some friends."

"How much does he know?" asked Khormak.

"I don't know," the chairman admitted. "But I don't think that any of us want to underestimate him again."

"Decidedly not," agreed King Goobot.

"What's your plan?" asked the Junkman.

It was Lord Versile who answered. "The Network fleet has effectively interdicted the Alliance and is intercepting all long-range communications. Neutron and his friends are alone. They can't reach the Alliance with any information they may have without assistance. The first duty of the Royal Guard in any case is to protect and serve the princess. They will undoubtedly attempt to rescue her."

"I see," said the Junkman. "So you think that we should eliminate the princess and put an end to that plan?"

"No. I think that we should let them attempt it."

This proposal was greeted by stunned silence from all. "Are you certain they'd even try?" asked the chairman. "They couldn't hope to succeed. Not even a regiment of Royal Guard could do it. How could these children hope to do so?"

There was a low rumble from the dark lord that might have been a threatening growl or a burst of derisive laughter. "Never underestimate the power of friendship. They will try. And I will be waiting for them."

Khormak raised an obvious point. "They don't even know where the princess is being held. How can they even get to her?"

"Leave that to me. Before it was lost in the Hysus Rapids one of the pursuit ships dispatched tracking drones to follow Neutron's ship. I can use that to ensure that the princess' whereabouts are discovered."

The Junkman looked skeptical. "I don't know about this, Lord Versile. I mean, even if your plan suc-"

The Junkman's words were cut off as one tenatative hand, then another, went to his throat. His usually green face changed subtly to a peculiar shade of grey as King Goobot and Khormak watched uneasily. "'If'?" Lord Versile repeated softly. His voice resonated as he stood motionless and watched impassively. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

The Junkman's face was now turning blue. All four of his hands clawed futilely at the invisible presence slowly constricting his windpipe and depriving him of precious air. Satisfied that Lord Versile had made his point, the chairman snapped, "Enough of this! Release him!"

Lord Versile seemed to shrug without moving. "As you wish." The Junkman let out a shriek as welcome air rushed back into the oxygen-starved organs that, had he been he human, would be called lungs.

The chairman eyed his co-conspirators coldly, sure that his minion had made his point. "I trust we're all agreed to try Lord Verile's plan?"

"Absolutely. Just love it," gushed King Goobot.

"Behind you one hundred percent," Khormak hurried to reassure the Network chairman.

"No problem here," croaked the Junkman.

"Very well. Transmission ended." The shadowy figured deactivated the communication channels and turned his full attention to Lord Versile. "Was that demonstration absolutely necessary?"

"No," the sinister agent replied. "But power is meant to be used. Power unused is useless power."

"I'm not disputing that. But until our plans our complete, we need them."

"They have their purpose," Lord Versile admitted. "For the moment."

The chairman nodded in agreement. "For the moment. But should you be forming any personal plans, just remember this," the chairman cautioned. "What one can give, one can take away just as easily. Are we clear on that?"

The dark lord bowed his head. "Yes, my master."

"Excellent. Now, I believe that the Junkman had some valid concerns regarding your plan. What do you suppose rescuing the princess could accomplish?"

"The princess is a symbol. Free, she could rally her people to a successful revolt against our plans. In time, that could spread throughout the galaxy."

Lord Versile heard the Chairman of the Network scoff. "She is just a child."

"She is of the royal caste of Felangie. Her every instinct is to serve the best interests of her people. She also has the idealism of youth. Being a child makes her all the more dangerous, not less."

The chairman pondered that. "How do you propose to stop them?"

"I have considered that. I believe that intercepting Neutron and his colleagues would be an excellent test of the new battle-drones with which our…allies…have provided us."

"Yes." The chairman nodded, pleased to kill two birds with one stone. "Yes. An excellent test. Make the necessary preparations. Just be sure you succeed." The voice darkened. "I'm taking a grave risk, Lord Versile. Failure is not an option."

Lord Versile bowed low. "It will be done, my master." He remained bowing until the communications screen went dark, and then turned and exited the chamber. As he made his way back down the dimly lit corridor, he scrutinized every aspect of his plan. Neutron, his two companions, and a Royal Guardsman, he thought. The odds seemed hopelessly stacked against them, but Lord Versile was not one to overlook any detail or leave anything to chance. Never underestimate the power of friendship, he reminded himself.

End of Chapter 9