According to Kane’s sensors, the buoys had failed to detect his appearance into the system. His masters had perfected the art of long-distance insertions. It was one of the Throne World’s key espionage secrets. The only trouble was the process often called for an agent’s patience as he waited for pickup.
During Kane’s wait, he exercised in the small gym with the enabler and later practiced mental calisthenics. Every time his thoughts drifted to Meta or even to Captain Maddox, Kane deliberately shifted focus. It was time to forget the woman. What did he gain by thinking of Meta’s beautiful form and her intriguing features? It’s true she had an innate and physical strength that he found appealing…
Kane paused in his thoughts, as he lay stretched out on his cot. Unable to tear his imagination from her, he continued to ponder on what it would feel like running his hands over her voluptuous body.
As the here-again, gone-again owner of the Los Angeles Wolverines, Kane had had his pick of Earth’s beauties for some time. The last indulgence had been with Susan Love the fashion model. He had found their couplings to be tedious affairs. He’d had to hold back lest his greater mass and strength cripple the so-called “insatiable lover.” It would be different with a strong woman like Meta. He would be able to let himself go and enjoy the process as he wished.
“No,” Kane rumbled. “Release the thought. Concentrate on the commando mission.”
He wondered about his fixation on Meta. Yes. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? The woman refused to depart his mind. After kidnapping Meta in New York City, he had held back with her for so long that it had started to bother him. During their time together, she had been his for the taking. Yet, Kane had realized then that the dominants would be displeased if he’d used her sexually. They’d wanted an unsullied captive on the off chance they would have desired to send her to the breeding masters.
Kane scowled.
The dominants desired to do the breeding that improved the human race. Kane’s genetic material was considered inferior compared to the perfection of the Throne World’s highest citizens.
Kane frowned, realizing that he continued to indulge in fantasies. The Throne World believed in pure thought, not in rutting with the mongrel races. The New Order demanded perfection from the human race. There would be no random couplings that produced freaks, sports and retards. It was a wonder humanity had managed to populate so many star systems. The chaos inherent in their genetic randomness should have already produced a vast breakdown in stellar society.
Kane wondered if the best minds on the Throne World tackled the dilemma of the flood of weak genetics. He’d never been to the heart of the New Order. He didn’t know what it was like on the Throne World. Kane had been to a genetic facility on a lesser world, though. He never desired to return. From what he’d witnessed, it was clear the masters treated the lower orders like cattle.
Kane pondered his own position. He engaged in a critical commando mission for Oran Rva. Surely, the dominant realized his genetic inheritance exceeded regular humans by several factors. Would that continue once the Throne World conquered Human Space? If Kane managed to take Methuselah Treatments to gain extended life, would he progressively lose rank as the rest of humanity improved genetically? Those as good as him would grow in number as those genetically beneath him were eliminated.
Kane sat up, shaking his head. This was useless speculation. The Throne World would win the war. Of that, there could be no doubt.
He got up, moving down the corridor toward the exercise chamber. As he did, Kane paused. He rubbed his forehead before a hatch he was unable to acknowledge. Sometimes, it felt as if he carried a hidden passenger in the scout. That was a strange sensation without any logical reason. With a shrug, Kane kept moving.
Soon, he stood in the exercise chamber. He wrapped his fists and hit a heavy bag, working out for the next hour.
A warning beep caused him to step back from the swaying bag and lower his throbbing hands. He moved down a corridor to the control chamber. A number flashed across the piloting monitor.
Kane unwound the wraps, rushing to his chair and sliding into it. He tapped out a coded sequence. Afterward, he found himself breathing heavily in anticipation.
That was wrong. He must wait for his message to reach the Cestus hauler moving through the system.
Kane’s scout drifted among a cluster of rocks. The star was far away. The brown dwarfs were closer, but far enough away that their heavy radiation didn’t reach his ship in sufficient quantity to cause him harm.
There were several Laumer-Points in the system. None of them linked directly to important nodes. It’s what made Epsilon Indi so useful to the Throne World’s secret service—a quiet star system near Earth.
Kane forced himself to stand. When he found himself watching the monitor, even though the hauler couldn’t possibly return a message yet, he knew he had to depart the chamber.
He went back to the exercise room, stepping on a rotation wheel. He began to run, spinning the wheel as sweat appeared on his skin. Like a rhinoceros, he charged kilometer after kilometer.
The time approached when he would reenter the chaotic world of free humanity. Star Watch Intelligence would be waiting for him.
On the wheel, a smile stretched across Kane’s square face. He yearned for the challenge. If Meta should cross his path during the mission… Kane’s eyes narrowed. He would use her, as he should have done many months ago.
Kane let a low rumble of laughter escape his throat. As he did, a warning sound came from the control cabin.
Kane stepped off the rotation wheel. With a sure stride, he reentered the control chamber. He nodded to himself.
In the distance moved a gigantic hauler. It was vast, approaching the size of a Spacer home-ship. The vessel was gunmetal-colored with thousands of lights to show its outline. Kilometer tall letters and numbers showed this to be Cestus Hauler EV-3498-Z109.
Buckling himself into the piloting chair, Kane acknowledged the coded signal. He made a last sweep of the nearby system to make sure no buoy or Star Watch destroyer waited to spot him.
The minutes fled as he waited. Kane noted no probes or hidden Star Watch vessels. Only when he was certain of this did he ease from the jumble of space debris.
By dumping gravity waves, he increased velocity for the gliding hauler. It headed for a distant Laumer-Point. Out here, the giant vessel should still be increasing velocity. Instead, it glided through the stellar night. A passing Star Watch patrol might think the hauler captain was trying to save on fuel costs. Accelerating and decelerating the massive ship was expensive.
Three hours passed before the Cestus hauler loomed massive before Kane’s tiny vessel. He slowed, drifting toward a select spot on the giant frame.
No more messages came his way. No one on the hauler thought to ask for identification. The process was exact. As the scout came within collision distance, hangar bay doors opened.
Kane eased the scout into the giant vessel. Behind him, the bay doors closed. With great care, Kane guided the scout through a long corridor past many containers. Finally, he landed in a location deep inside the ship.
Shutting down everything—
Kane groaned. Pain spiked in his head. He hesitated to tap the last control that would shut off all power in the scout. Instead, he arose from his seat, walking robotically down a corridor and stopping before a hatch he had never consciously recognized. To Kane, this felt like a dream.