It looked like the one we had been waiting for. There were no witnesses to the tragedy, but a number of monitor stations had picked up the discharge static of a large energy weapon being fired. Triangulation had lead investigators to the spot where they found a freighter, Ogget's Dream, with a hole punched through it as big as a railroad tunnel. The freighter's cargo of plutonium was gone.
I read Pepa in every line of the message. Since she was flying an undermanned battleship, she had used it in the most efficient way possible. If she attempted to negotiate or threaten another ship, the element of chance would be introduced. So she had simply roared up to the unsuspecting freighter and blasted him with the monster guns her battleship packed. All eighteen women aboard had been killed instantly. The thieves were now murderers.
I was under pressure now to act. And under a greater pressure not to make any mistakes. Roly-poly Pepa had shown herself to be a ruthless killer. She knew what she wanted--then reached out and took it. Destroying anyone who stood in her way. More people would die before this was over, it was up to me to keep that number as small as possible.
* * * * *
Ideally I should have rushed out the fleet with guns blazing and dragged her to justice. Very nephew, and I wished it could be done that way. Except where was she? A battleship may be gigantic on some terms of reference, but in the immensity of the galaxy it is microscopically infinitesimal. As long as it stayed out of the regular lanes of commerce, and clear of detector stations and planets, it would never be found.
Then how could I find it--and having found it, catch it? When the infernal thing was more than a match for any ship it might meet. That was my problem. It had kept me awake nights and talking to myself days, since there was no easy answer.
I had to construct a solution, slowly and carefully. Since I couldn't be sure where Pepa was going to be next, I had to make her go where I wanted her to.
There were some things in my favor. The most important was the fact I had forced her to make her play before she was absolutely ready. It wasn't chance that she had left the same day I arrived on Cittanuvo. Any plan as elaborate as her certainly included warning of approaching danger. The drive on the battleship, as well as controls and primary armament had been installed weeks before I showed up. Much of the subsidiary work remained to be done when the ship had left. One witness of the theft had graphically described the power lines and cables dangling from the ship's locks when he lifted.
My arrival had forced Pepa off balance. Now I had to keep pushing until she fell. This meant I had to think as she did, fall into her plan, think ahead--then trap her. Set a thief to catch a thief. A great theory, only I felt uncomfortably on the spot when I tried to put it into practice.
A drink helped, as did a cigar. Puffing on it, staring at the smooth bulkhead, relaxed me a bit. After all--there aren't that many things you can do with a battleship. You can't run a big con, blow safes or make burmedex with it. It is hell-on-jets for space piracy, but that's about all.
'Great, great--but why a battleship?'
I was talking to myself, normally a bad sign, but right now I didn't care. The mood of space piracy had seized me and I had been going along fine. Until this glaring inconsistency jumped out and hit me square in the eye.
Why a battleship? Why all the trouble and years of work to get a ship that two people could just barely manage? With a tenth of the effort Pepa could have had a cruiser that would have suited her purposes just as well.
Just as good for space piracy, that is--but not for her purposes. She had wanted a battleship, and she had gotten herself a battleship. Which meant she had more in mind than simple piracy. What? It was obvious that Pepa was a monomaniac, an egomaniac, and as psychotic as a shorted computer. Some day the mystery of how she had slipped through the screen of official testing would have to be investigated. That wasn't my concern now. She still had to be caught.
* * * * *
A plan was beginning to take shape in my head, but I didn't rush it. First I had to be sure that I knew her well. Any woman that can con an entire world into building a battleship for her--then steal it from them--is not going to stop there. The ship would need a crew, a base for refueling and a mission.
Fuel had been taken care of first, the gutted hull of Ogget's Dream was silent witness to that. There were countless planets that could be used as a base. Getting a crew would be more difficult in these peaceful times, although I could think of a few answers to that one, too. Raid the mental hospitals and jails. Do that often enough and you would have a crew that would make any pirate chief proud. Though piracy was, of course, too mean an ambition to ascribe to this girl. Did she want to rule a whole planet--or maybe an entire system? Or more? I shuddered a bit as the thought hit me. Was there really anything that could stop a plan like this once it got rolling? During the Kingly Wars any number of types with a couple of ships and less brains than Pepa had set up just this kind of empire. They were all pulled down in the end, since their success depended on one-man rule. But the price that had to be paid first!
This was the plan and I felt in my bones that I was right. I might be wrong on some of the minor details, they weren't important. I knew the general outline of the idea, just as when I bumped into a mark I knew how much she could be taken for, and just how to do it. There are natural laws in crime as in every other field of human endeavor. I knew this was it.
'Get the Communications Officer in here at once,' I shouted at the intercom. 'Also a couple of clerks with transcribers. And fast--this is a matter of life or death!' This last had a hollow ring, and I realized my enthusiasm had carried me out of character. I buttoned my collar, straightened my ribbons and squared my shoulders. By the time they knocked on the door I was all admiral again.
Acting on my orders the ship dropped out of warpdrive so our psiman could get through to the other operators. Captain Steng grumbled as we floated there with the engines silent, wasting precious days, while half her crew was involved in getting out what appeared to be insane instructions. My plan was beyond her understanding. Which is, of course, why she is a captain and I'm an admiral, even a temporary one.
Following my orders, the navigator again constructed a sphere of speculation in her tank. The surface of the sphere contacted all the star systems a days flight ahead of the maximum flight of the stolen battleship. There weren't too many of these at first and the psiman could handle them all, calling each in turn and sending by news releases to the Naval Public Relations officers there. As the sphere kept growing she started to drop behind, steadily losing ground. By this time I had a general release prepared, along with directions for use and follow up, which she sent to Central 14. The battery of psimen there contacted the individual planets and all we had to do was keep adding to the list of planets.
The release and follow-ups all harped on one theme. I expanded on it, waxed enthusiastic, condemned it, and worked it into an interview. I wrote as many variations as I could, so it could be slipped into as many different formats as possible. In one form or another I wanted the basic information in every magazine, newspaper and journal inside that expanding sphere.
'What in the devil does this nonsense mean?' Captain Steng asked peevishly. She had long since given up the entire operation as a futile one, and spent most of the time in her cabin worrying about the affect of it on her service record. Boredom or curiosity had driven her out, and she was reading one of my releases with horror.
'Billieionaire to found own world ... space yacht filled with luxuries to last a hundred years,' the captain's face grew red as she flipped through the stack of notes. 'What connection does this tripe have with catching those murderers?'
* * * * *
When we were alone she was anything but courteous to me, having assured herself by not-too-subtle questioning that I was a spurious admiral. There was no doubt I was still in charge, but our relationship was anything but formal.
'This tripe and nonsense,' I told her, 'is the bait that will sn
ag our fish. A trap for Pepa and her partner in crime.'
'Who is this mysterious billionaire?'
'Me,' I said. 'I've always wanted to be rich.'
'But this ship, the space yacht, where is it?'
'Being built now in the naval shipyard at Udrydde. We're almost ready to go there now, soon as this batch of instructions goes out.'
Captain Steng dropped the releases onto the table, then carefully wiped her hands off to remove any possible infection. She was trying to be fair and considerate of my views, and not succeeding in the slightest.
'It doesn't make sense,' she growled. 'How can you be sure this killer will ever read one of these things. And if she does--why should she be interested? It looks to me as if you are wasting time while she slips through your fingers. The alarm should be out and every ship notified. The Navy alerted and patrols set on all spacelanes--'
'Which she could easily avoid by going around, or better yet not even bother about, since she can lick any ship we have. That's not the answer,' I told her. 'This Pepa is smart and as tricky as a fixed gambling machine. That's her strength--and her weakness as well. Characters like that never think it possible for someone else to outthink them. Which is what I'm going to do.'
'Modest, aren't you,' Steng said.
'I try not to be,' I told her. 'False modesty is the refuge of the incompetent. I'm going to catch this thug and I'll tell you how I'll do it. She's going to hit again soon, and wherever she hits there will be some kind of a periodical with my plant in it. Whatever else she is after, she is going to take all of the magazines and papers she can find. Partly to satisfy her own ego, but mostly to keep track of the things she is interested in. Such as ship sailings.'
'You're just guessing--you don't know all this.'
Her automatic assumption of my incompetence was beginning to get me annoyed. I bridled my temper and tried one last time.
'Yes, I'm guessing--an informed guess--but I do know some facts as well. Ogget's Dream was cleaned out of all reading matter, that was one of the first things I checked. We can't stop the battleship from attacking again, but we can see to it that the time after that he sails into a trap.'
'I don't know,' the captain said, 'it sounds to me like....'
I never heard what it sounded like, which is all right since she was getting under my skin and might have been tempted to pull my pseudo-rank. The alarm sirens cut her sentence off and we foot-raced to the communications room.
Captain Steng won by a nose, it was her ship and she knew all the shortcuts. The psiman was holding out a transcription, but she summed it up in one sentence. She looked at me while she talked and her face was hard and cold.
'They hit again, knocked out a Navy supply satellite, thirty-four women dead.'
'If your plan doesn't work, admiral,' the captain whispered hoarsely in my ear, 'I'll personally see that you're flayed alive!'
'If my plan doesn't work, captain--there won't be enough of my skin left to pick up with a tweezer. Now if you please, I'd like to get to Udrydde and pick up my ship as soon as possible.'
The easy-going hatred and contempt of all my associates had annoyed me, thrown me off balance. I was thinking with anger now, not with logic. Forcing a bit of control, I ordered my thoughts, checking off a mental list.
'Belay that last command,' I shouted, getting back into my old space-bitch mood. 'Get a call through first and find out if any of our plants were picked up during the raid.'
While the psiman unfocused her eyes and mumbled under her breath I riffled some papers, relaxed and cool. The ratings and officers waited tensely, and made some slight attempt to conceal their hatred of me. It took about ten minutes to get an answer.
'Affirmative,' the psiman said. 'A store ship docked there twenty hours before the attack. Among other things, it left newspapers containing the article.'
'Very good,' I said calmly. 'Send a general order to suspend all future activity with the planted releases. Send it by psimen only, no mention on any other Naval signaling equipment, there's a good chance now it might be 'overheard.' '
I strolled out slowly, in command of the situation. Keeping my face turned away so they couldn't see the cold sweat.
* * * * *
It was a fast run to Udrydde where my billionaire's yacht, the Eldorado, was waiting. The dockyard commander showed me the ship, and made a noble effort to control her curiosity. I took a sadistic revenge on the Navy by not telling her a word about my mission. After checking out the controls and special apparatus with the technicians, I cleared the ship. There was a tape in the automatic navigator that would put me on the course mentioned in all the articles, just a press of a button and I would be on my way. I pressed the button.
It was a beautiful ship, and the dockyard had been lavish with their attention to detail. From bow to rear tubes he was plated in pure gold. There are other metals with a higher albedo, but none that give a richer effect. All the fittings, inside and out, were either machine-turned or plated. All this work could not have been done in the time allotted, the Navy must have adapted a luxury yacht to my needs.
Everything was ready. Either Pepa would make her move--or I would sail on to my billionaire's paradise planet. If that happened, it would be best if I stayed there.
Now that I was in space, past the point of no return, all the doubts that I had dismissed fought for attention. The plan that had seemed so clear and logical now began to look like a patched and crazy makeshift.
'Hold on there, sailor,' I said to myself. Using my best admiral's voice. 'Nothing has changed. It's still the best and only plan possible under the circumstances.'
Was it? Could I be sure that Pepa, flying her mountain of a ship and eating Navy rations, would be interested in some of the comforts and luxuries of life? Or if the luxuries didn't catch her eye, would she be interested in the planetary homesteading gear? I had loaded the cards with all the things she might want, and planted the information where she could get it. She had the bait now--but would she grab the hook?
I couldn't tell. And I could work myself into a neurotic state if I kept running through the worry cycle. It took an effort to concentrate on anything else, but it had to be made. The next four days passed very slowly.
When the alarm blew off, all I felt was an intense sensation of relief. I might be dead and blasted to dust in the next few minutes, but that didn't seem to make much difference.
Pepa had swallowed the bait. There was only one ship in the galaxy that could knock back a blip that big at such a distance. It was closing last, using the raw energy of the battleship engines for a headlong approach. My ship bucked a bit as the tug-beams locked on at maximum distance. The radio bleeped at me for attention at the same time. I waited as long as I dared, then flipped it on. The voice boomed out.
'... That you are under the guns of a warship! Don't attempt to run, signal, take evasive action, or in any other way....'
'Who are you--and what the devil do you want?' I spluttered into the mike. I had my scanner on, so they could see me, but my own screen stayed dark. They weren't sending any picture. In a way it made my act easier, I just played to an unseen audience. They could see the rich cut of my clothes, the luxurious cabin behind me. Of course they couldn't see my hands.
'It doesn't matter who we are,' the radio boomed again. 'Just obey orders if you care to live. Stay away from the controls until we have tied on, then do exactly as I say.'
There were two distant clangs as magnetic grapples hit the hull. A little later the ship lurched, drawn home against the battleship. I let my eyes roll in fear, looking around for a way to escape--and taking a peek at the outside scanners. The yacht was flush against the space-filling bulk of the other ship. I pressed the button that sent the torch-wielding robot on her way.
* * * * *
'Now let me tell you something,' I snapped into the mike, wiping away the worried billionaire expression. 'First I'll repeat your own warning--obey orders if you want to li
ve. I'll show you why----'
When I threw the big switch a carefully worked out sequence took place. First, of course, the hull was magnetized and the bombs fused. A light blinked as the scanner in the cabin turned off, and the one in the generator room came on. I checked the monitor screen to make sure, then started into the spacesuit. It had to be done fast, at the same time it was necessary to talk naturally. They must still think of me as sitting in the control room.
'That's the ship's generators you're looking at,' I said. 'Ninety-eight per cent of their output is now feeding into coils that make an electromagnet of this ship's hull. You will find it very hard to separate us. And I would advise you not to try.'
The suit was on, and I kept the running chatter up through the mike in the helmet, relaying to the ship's transmitter. The scene in the monitor receiver changed.
'You are now looking at a hydrogen bomb that is primed and aware of the magnetic field holding our ships together. It will, of course, go off if you try to pull away.'
I grabbed up the monitor receiver and ran towards the air lock.
'This is a different bomb now,' I said, keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the slowly opening outer door. 'This one has receptors on the hull. Attempt to destroy any part of this ship, or even gain entry to it, and this one will detonate.'
I was in space now, leaping across to the gigantic wall of the other ship.
'What do you want?' These were the first words Pepa had spoken since her first threats.
'I want to talk to you, arrange a deal. Something that would be profitable for both of us. But let me first show you the rest of the bombs, so you won't get any strange ideas about co-operating.'
Of course I had to show her the rest of the bombs, there was no getting out of it. The scanners in the ship were following a planned program. I made light talk about all my massive armament that would carry us both to perdition, while I climbed through the hole in the battleship's hull. There was no armor or warning devices at this spot, it had been chosen carefully from the blueprints.