by Timothy Zahn
They were also, to a man, scared right down to their socks.
“This is crazy,” Everett said, hunched over a tall whiskey sour. Alcoholic drinks of one sort or another had somehow been the beverage of choice for each of them as he came out of the ’tweenhull area. “Crazy. This is a job for professionals, not a bunch of loose spacers picked off the Meima streets.”
“Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to have a squad of EarthGuard Marines on this instead of us,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “But they’re not here. We are.”
“I presume you realize that if the Patth get their hands on us we’re dead,” Nicabar pointed out darkly, peering into his own drink. “Not a chance in the world they’d let us go. Not with what we know about this ship.”
“And what do we know about it?” Shawn countered, his fingertips tapping nervously on the table. “Seriously, what do we know? McKell says he thinks it’s an alien stardrive. So what makes him the big expert?”
“No, he may be right,” Chort said before I could reply. “Early Craean stardrives used a very similar dual-sphere design, with an open resonance chamber as one of them. Though much smaller, of course.”
“Yeah, but did they work?” Shawn asked. “I never heard of any design like that.”
“Which means it can’t possibly have been of any use,” Tera murmured. “Not if you never heard of it.”
Shawn turned a glare toward her. “Double-sphere designs work just fine,” Nicabar put in, the firm authority in his tone cutting short any further argument. “The only reason they’re not used is that the Möbius-strip arrangement is more stable.”
“Terrific,” Shawn said with a sniff. “An unstable stardrive. Just what we need. Just what the Spiral needs.”
“It’s not unstable that way,” Nicabar insisted, starting to sound annoyed. “The theory shows that oscillations can form in the upper harmonics under high-stress conditions, that’s all.”
Shawn snorted. “Sure, but if—”
“Look, if you two want to discuss stardrive theory, go do it on your own time,” Tera cut him off acidly. “What I want to know is how we’re going to get through this gauntlet and to Earth.”
“Why Earth?” Shawn demanded. Clearly, he was intent on alienating everybody aboard today. I wondered uneasily if we were getting low on his medicine again. “Just because the majority of us are human?”
“Speaking as one who is not,” Ixil interjected calmly, “I would say that Borodin’s ownership of the device should adequately define our final destination and cargo disposition.”
“What ownership?” Shawn countered. “He dug it out of a desert on someone else’s planet. What gives him any more rights than the Ihmisits who already live there?”
“Basic Commonwealth law regarding salvage and extraindigenous archaeological recovery, that’s what,” Tera told him stiffly. “The guidelines clearly put Borodin and his people in possession. That one’s not even arguable.”
“Well, well,” Shawn sneered. “And when did you become our resident legal authority?”
“We’re drifting from the point,” I spoke up quickly. I had no doubt Tera could quote him the relevant laws line for line, and I had no intention of letting Shawn goad her into a display of such unreasonable expertise. “Tera’s right about Borodin’s claim,” I went on. “But at the same time she’s wrong about the functionality of this stardrive—”
“This alleged stardrive,” Shawn insisted.
“This alleged stardrive,” I corrected, “being none of our concern. In point of fact, this hunk of metal may be all that stands between us getting to Earth or winding up in the bottom of a very deep Patth pit somewhere.”
For a couple of heartbeats they all just stared at me. Everett got it first, as I could tell by the distance his jaw dropped toward the floor. “You aren’t saying—you’re not suggesting—?”
“I think it’s our best chance,” I said. “The Patth know perfectly well how fast the Icarus can travel—it’s not like stardrive speed ranges are any secret. They also don’t want any more people than necessary knowing about this little hunt of theirs, which means they’re probably timing their bribes and governmental pressurings to hit the systems just ahead of where we’re flying at any given time.”
“I see where you’re going,” Nicabar said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “If we can get ahead of that wave front, we might have a chance of landing and refueling before anyone in the area even knows what a hot ticket we are.”
“Right,” I said. “We may still run into a random Patth advance scout or two, but that’ll be a whole lot easier to deal with than taking on an entire customs and military establishment.”
“What about the underworld characters they’ve been bribing?” Everett asked. “Even if the Patth themselves aren’t talking, they’re bound to be spreading the word about us.”
“True, but remember that they’re only giving out half the story to that bunch,” I said. “The Spiral’s underworld is looking for me, and doesn’t know anything about the Icarus itself. The Icarus’s name won’t do them any good, since we’re coming into each port under a different ID.”
“Unless they also find out its shape,” Shawn muttered. “We are just a little distinctive, you know.”
“And we know the Najik have already made the connection,” Nicabar added. “What’s to keep them from spreading the word back to the Patth and across the rest of the Spiral?”
“The same thing that’s keeping the Patth from doing so,” I told him. “Namely, the desire to play this whole game as close to the vest as possible. For the Patth, the reasons are obvious; for the Najik, it’ll be the hope of putting the choke collar on us themselves, thus guaranteeing themselves the full range of whatever goodies the Patth are offering.”
“The basic flaw in motivation by bribery,” Tera said. Her tone was neutral, but I thought I could detect a little grudging respect for my reasoning in her voice. Or maybe it was just resignation. “All your supposed allies spend as much time jockeying for position among the rest of the group as they do on the hunt itself.”
“It’s about all we’ve got going for us,” I said. “That, plus the stardrive itself. If we can get it up and running.”
Everett shook his head. “It’s still crazy,” he said. “What do any of us know about alien technology?”
“Not a lot,” I conceded. “On the other hand, we’re not exactly starting from zero, either. Tera tells me she’s found what seems to be a full set of the expedition’s reports in the computer.”
“You’re kidding,” Everett said, blinking. “They put all their files aboard, too?”
“Why not?” Nicabar said. “They want to get the data to Earth, too. Why not take all of it together?”
Shawn snorted. “Ever heard of putting all your eggs in one basket?”
“Actually, I suspect it’s more a case of having had all the eggs together in the first place,” I told him. “I think the reason our computer is so badly suited for starship operation is that it was never intended or programmed for that purpose in the first place. It was probably the expedition’s regular working computer, which was already hooked up to the alien electronics in the smaller sphere. They just left it where it was when they constructed the Icarus around it.”
“Maybe,” Shawn said. “Assuming all of this isn’t just some hallucinatory wishful thinking, how exactly do you suggest we proceed? If Chort is right, where we’re sitting right now is supposed to be a resonance chamber.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And obviously, if it’s going to resonate, it’s going to have to be empty. Mostly empty, anyway.”
“Resonance means completely empty, McKell,” Shawn growled. “Any first-level physics student can tell you that. Were you thinking we could cram the whole ship into the wraparound?”
“It does not have to be completely empty,” Chort said, his feathers fluffing. “In this application, the resonance effect only requires the central area.”
“He’s right,” Nicabar seconded.
“For that matter, the presence of the interior gravitational field argues that the designers weren’t expecting the whole thing to be empty,” I added. “The field’s clearly there to clear out the center and move everything to the edge, where it’ll be out of the way.”
“Unless the gravity is part of the resonance mechanism,” Tera said.
“There’s nothing like that in the theory,” Nicabar said. “At least, not that I remember.”
“Nor I,” Chort said.
Shawn waved a hand. “Fine. I stand corrected.”
“So what’s the plan?” Nicabar asked. “Disassemble the interior corridors and bulkheads and stack everything along the inner edge?”
“Basically,” I said. “Except that I don’t think we have either the space or the need to keep everything. The interior wall and hull material should come apart into a collection of mostly one-meter-square plates, which we can dump outside through the main hatch. Ditto for some of the other unnecessary stuff.”
“And what if it isn’t a stardrive?” Shawn asked. “How do we get everything back in again?”
“We don’t,” I said. “That’s why we only toss stuff we know we can do without.”
“And what if it doesn’t work?” he persisted. “We’ll have lost a lot of time and won’t be any better off than when we started.”
“But we won’t be any worse off, either,” Nicabar reminded him.
“And if we can get it working, think of what it’ll mean for all of us,” Everett added thoughtfully.
Shawn sniffed. “Borodin will do great. Us, we’ll be lucky to get the lousy two grand he promised us.”
“We’ll get it,” I promised. “That, plus the bonus he mentioned in his note.”
Shawn snorted. “Yeah. Right.”
“Actually, we may be able to do even better than that,” Everett said. “It all depends on who ends up shoveling out the money.”
“I thought we’d already decided the Icarus belongs to Borodin,” Tera said. The menace in her voice was subtle, probably too subtle for the others to notice. But I heard it, and I was sure Ixil did, too.
“We did,” Everett assured her, throwing a look at Nicabar. “Mostly. I’m just suggesting that we’ve already earned a lot more than the two thousand he promised us on Meima.”
“Fair compensation for services rendered,” Shawn put in. “See? I can talk legalese, too. Here’s another great legal term for you: extortion.”
“And what’s the ‘or else’?” she countered. “Every demand has to have the threat of an ‘or else’ along with it. Who are you planning to offer the Icarus to if Borodin doesn’t feel especially extortable that day? The Patth?”
“Let me just mention that anyone who wants to deal with those slime is going to have to go through me to do it,” Nicabar put in.
“The Patth are hardly the only players in this game,” Everett reminded him. “Potential players, anyway. If Borodin won’t play ball there are a lot of other people we could sell it to.”
“Maybe even the Crooea,” Shawn said, throwing a sly grin at Chort. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Chort?”
Chort’s feathers ruffled, and he delivered some no doubt innocuous-sounding reply. But I wasn’t listening. Suddenly, Everett’s comment had sent the pieces falling into place with such loud clicks it was a wonder the rest of them couldn’t hear them. Suddenly, the inconsistencies and random illogic of the Icarus’s entire voyage were making sense. Suddenly, small bits of data and casually odd comments were connecting together with the ease of children’s playing blocks.
Suddenly, I knew why Jones had been murdered. Not who had done it, not yet. But I knew why.
“McKell?”
I blinked, dragging myself out of the depths of my introspection. Nicabar was gazing at me, a speculative look on his face. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Mind wandered for a minute. What did you say?”
“I asked if that was it for the meeting,” he repeated. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
“That’s it from me,” I said. That was it for right now, anyway, I amended privately. The next time I held court like this it would be to expose a murderer. “Unless anyone else has something to add?”
Chort half lifted a hand. “I have a thought,” he said, almost apologetically. “Though I hesitate to mention it, as it will mean even more work for us all.”
“We’re facing a ton of work as it is,” Ixil said. “Another half ton on top of it will hardly be noticed. Please; speak.”
“As Electronics Specialist Shawn pointed out earlier, the Icarus has a most distinctive configuration,” Chort said, still sounding a little uncertain. “And our experience at Utheno has shown that that configuration is now known. My suggestion is that we attempt to alter it.”
“Straightforward enough,” I said. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“The main body of the Icarus consists of two spheres,” he said, drawing the shape in the air with his fingers. “My thought is that we could use the cast-off interior plates to build a cylindrical sheath running between them at their widest points. From the outside, the main body will then appear to be a tapered cylinder with rounded ends instead of two joined spheres.”
“With just the nose cone and engine sections sticking out on either side,” I said, a tingle of cautious excitement running through me as I looked over at Ixil. “Possible?”
“I don’t see why not,” he said. His voice was its usual calm, but the ferrets were twitching again. “At least in theory. We’ve got the equipment to spot-weld the plates to the spheres, and the plates themselves can be connected together with the same fasteners that are holding them together now.”
“I thought the cutting torch was dead,” Shawn reminded him.
“We also have an arc-welding torch,” Ixil told him. “It’s still functional.”
“What about supports?” Nicabar asked. “You’re not going to have any structural strength to speak of here.”
“We could add some braces in from beneath,” Ixil said. “Assuming the welding rods hold out, we ought to have enough material.”
“And assuming we don’t run out of power to run the welder,” Tera said. “How are we on fuel, McKell?”
“We’ve got more than enough to drive the generators as long as we’ll need,” I assured her. “My question is how long Shawn’s medicine is going to last.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Apparently, that aspect hadn’t yet occurred to them. “Yes, that is rather a limiting factor,” Everett conceded. “I’d say we have no more than eight or nine days left on this supply. And that’s if we stretch it out.”
“Doesn’t give us much time,” Tera said. “Especially since we also have to get to a port once all this conversion work is finished.”
“True.” I looked at Shawn. “What do you think? Can you handle a week on low doses?”
He snorted. “I’ll handle a week on no doses if I have to,” he said bitterly. “You probably don’t know it, but the Patth had some major harvesting operations on Ephis, and were furious when the Commonwealth closed them down by interdicting the place. I don’t think I’d get any sympathy from them if they grabbed us. And no borandis, either.”
“Though they would probably consider that you had done them a small service,” Chort said quietly. “You, at least, they could allow to die naturally.”
Tera shivered. “And on that note, I vote we get going on this.”
“Seconded,” I agreed, standing up. “Ixil, let’s go break out the tools.”
CHAPTER
15
It was one thing, I discovered, to suggest disassembling an entire starship from the inside out. It was another thing entirely to actually set about doing it.
Still, it was quickly apparent that the very nature of the Icarus’s odd design was going to work in our favor. On a normal starship all the bulkheads and decks were solidly riveted or welded together,
with most of the various sections cast or molded to the specific fit required. Our bulkheads and decks, in contrast, were fastened together with the same connectors Cameron’s people had used on the inner-hull plates, which made disassembly a fast and simple process. Furthermore, all the interior framing had been created from the same meter-square plates: a single thickness for the inner hull and most of the walls, double or triple thickness for the decks and supporting bulkheads. In one of my rare moments alone with Tera I asked about that, and she confirmed my guess that Cameron’s techs had designed it that way on purpose. Shaped or molded bulkhead sections might have raised eyebrows with Meima’s customs inspectors, but simple meter-square building plates wouldn’t even rate a yawn.
Ixil’s inventory included only three of the connector tools, but since there was also a great deal of hauling to be done the limited number worked out just fine. Cameron, bless him, had used high-strength but low-weight metal composites, which meant that even Shawn and Chort could lug the plates to the wraparound with relative ease. We rotated jobs every twenty minutes or so, with an eye toward not fatiguing any one set of muscles. As Ixil suggested at one point, there was likely to be more than enough muscle fatigue to go around.
For the first six hours we concentrated on simple disassembly, starting with the nonsupporting walls and moving on to bulkheads, shifting the plates into the wraparound and stacking them by the hatch. At that point, I decided we had enough material to start with Chort’s exterior modification plan. We still had two shipboard suits—the third had been left behind on Xathru when we’d filed Jones’s death report—and of course Chort had his own suit as well. Putting Tera and Nicabar into the smaller and larger sizes, respectively, I sent them out with Chort, the welder, and two connector tools and crossed my fingers.
It worked out better than even my best level of cautious hope. Chort, it turned out, was quite competent with the welder, at least as skilled as Ixil if not a shade more so. The proper positioning of the plates was another worry I’d had; Tera solved that one by the three of them assembling an entire longitudinal section and working it into place between the two spheres before Chort did any welding. With two of the connector tools now outside, the four of us inside shifted jobs again from mass disassembly to the more delicate task of moving the gear from the now nonexistent rooms to new quarters against the inside of the hull. The large sphere’s gravitational level of .85 gee made the tasks of lifting and carrying marginally easier while still avoiding the missteps and inertial problems of low-gee environments.