Maddox and Galyan exchanged glances.
“We have to guess right the first time,” Maddox said.
“Clearly,” the cube said. “But I am glad you reached the conclusion on your own. With the release of the phase-ship, our odds for our success have dramatically dwindled. There is a possible recourse…”
“What?” Maddox asked flatly.
“In order for me to deduce the probable location of the out of phase signaler, I would need to considerably enhance my computing power.”
“To what degree?” asked Maddox.
“Your tone indicates your suspicious nature. That shows that you are a clever creature, but it likely degrades the probably that your species will survive much longer. For it appears to me that you will be unwilling to take the needed action.”
“What action?” Maddox asked.
“Link me to Galyan and the other ship’s computers, giving me override ability.”
“You have correctly deduced my reaction,” Maddox said. “I decline your offer.”
“A pity,” the cube said.
“Give me another.”
“What other?” the cube asked. “In my present state, it would be sheerest luck for me to guess the correct location. I have the theoretical capacity to deduce the location—”
“Wait a minute,” Maddox said. “If you could deduce it, surely other Builders in the past have already deduced it.”
“That is not necessarily the case.”
“It seems reasonable,” Maddox said.
The cube did not respond.
“But if past Builders deduced it, wouldn’t they have already destroyed the alien signaler?” Maddox asked.
The cube continued to remain silent.
“Galyan—”
“I am considering your theory,” Galyan said. “Past Builders would surely have destroyed such a place, given they could reach it.”
“Builder,” Maddox said. “Could past Builders go out of phase?”
The cube took its time answering. “Not to my knowledge,” it said. “But my knowledge on the matter is incomplete.”
“There would be another problem,” Galyan said. “It would be a matter of phase. We all have the same quantum phase, as we all interact with each other. The beacon or signaler would be out of phase, but it could be out of phase at many different resonances.”
“There is one right answer to a math problem and many wrong answers,” Maddox said.
“An apt analogy,” Galyan said.
“Only to a point was it apt,” the cube said. “If we forgo precision, what do we have? That was imprecise, Galyan.”
“Never mind that,” Maddox said. “Let’s run with the idea. The past Builders could not go out of phase, but they were aware of the phenomenon. It’s possible they could even track it to a degree.”
“What about the null region?” Galyan asked. “That strikes me as out of phase.”
“What is this null region?” the cube asked.
Maddox and Galyan explained it in turn.
“No,” the cube finally said. “The null region is quite different from out of phase. The null is more akin to a pocket universe attached to ours.”
Maddox shook his head. “I don’t see—”
“I ask that you not strain your reasoning capacity attempting to figure out the exact nature of the null region,” the cube said, interrupting. “In this, you should trust my superior intellect.”
“He has a point, sir,” Galyan said.
“Fine,” Maddox said, rubbing his eyes. “Listen. The past Builders surely knew what we did. Here’s my point.”
“I have already divined it,” the cube said. “You believe that the past Builders have likely marked the location in the visible space-time continuum, which is to say, our normal universe.”
“Right,” Maddox said.
“It is an interesting idea, to be sure,” the Builder said.
“What’s the marker?” Maddox asked. “If anyone could figure it out, it would be you.”
“You did not let me finish my thought,” the cube said. “It is an interesting theory, but far too risky to rely upon for the survival of the human race.”
“I thought you don’t care about that,” Maddox said.
“I do not care to the same degree that you care,” the cube said. “You desire precision, as you desire to destroy the beacon before it sends its signal.”
“Yes…” Maddox said.
“Thus, you should increase my computing ability—”
“I’m not hooking you to Galyan or to the starship,” Maddox said, interrupting.
“I realize this,” the cube said. “Thus, I have another suggestion. There is an ancient Builder listening post eighty-four light-years from here. It is quite possible there are backup computers embedded in the old post. If you attach those computers to me, upgrading my computing power and hooking me to ancient Builder databanks, I would have a much greater probability of finding the beacon before the phase-ship sends the signal.”
Once more, Maddox exchanged glances with Galyan.
“The cube is attempting to augment its power,” Galyan said. “I recommend against such an action, Captain.”
Maddox looked up at the Builder cube. He didn’t trust it, but he needed to find the alien beacon now, not later. There was another problem. It would take time traveling 84 light-years, time they could ill afford.
This was a prickly dilemma.
It’s time for a snap decision. I can have the cube make a second-rate guess or I can give it greater ability so it can make a first-rate guess. But then it becomes a possible danger to us.
“Give me the listening post’s coordinates,” Maddox said.
“You agree to my idea?” the cube asked.
“Yes. Now, give me the coordinates.”
-29-
The clone Strand had grown increasingly paranoid as the days progressed into two week of travel. He hated the alien phase-ship. The regular-looking adaptations he’d made in in a few key places had helped a little, but the alien-ness of the craft had become more oppressive the longer he journeyed.
There was something else. Strand was concerned that the central intelligence of the phase-ship was continuously attempting to break the Builder/Swarm reprogramming. He wasn’t sure how long the insertion worm could keep this thing under his control.
Maybe he had gambled too heavily for the chance of gaining well-deserved vengeance against his many enemies.
Strand was in the control room, his combat armor nearby. He had a thought, a foul and sickening idea. Suppose the ship regained self-mastery. Suppose it reasoned carefully. Strand had become increasingly impressed with the alien computing system. Its core intelligence would realize what Strand had done to it. Might it want revenge against him?
Strand made a harsh sound from the back of his throat. The core intelligence would want more than simple revenge. Remembering the marines in the tubes and the dissected bodies on the tables caused Strand to shudder with revulsion. That must never happen to him.
How have I become so lax?
The answer was clear. He hadn’t wanted to think about the problem. It was too repugnant, too…too much. Even now, the idea threatened to overwhelm his resolve and shatter his sanity.
With a lurch, Strand spun around and rushed to his thermonuclear device. He began tapping and reprogramming it. This was crazy. What if he had an accident? What if he forgot about the device for a time and suddenly the newly set timer reached zero?
Strand laughed half-madly. The answer was that he would be dead, and so would the awful alien vessel.
Once he finished reprogramming the thermonuclear device, Strand slumped back. He felt a little better. He—
Strand scrambled to his feet and clawed the ancient blaster from its holster at his side.
The strange wasp-like robot stared at him from an opened hatch. He had not heard it enter the chamber.
The alien robot clicked and whistled.
&nb
sp; “You worked frantically,” the translator said.
Strand’s mouth had become dry. How long had that thing been standing there watching him?
The wasp-like robot clicked and whistled more. “Why do you not answer me?”
“What—?” Strand tried to moisten his too-dry mouth. “I don’t like you entering this chamber unannounced.”
Lights flashed on the main alien computer as it, too, made clicks and whistles. The translator did not translate that. Maybe it hadn’t been alien speech.
The wasp-like robot clicked and whistled. “I have observed you, and come to know you. As you worked frantically, you gave off a fear stench. Why would a master predator emit such a fear stench?”
“Your study is flawed,” Strand told it.
“Why do you aim your hand-killer at me?”
“It is a natural reflex on my part,” Strand said. “I could have easily killed you by mistake.”
“Explain.”
“You snuck up on me. I have lightning reflexes and might have killed you by mistake. For your own sake, do not enter this chamber again without telling me first.”
“You are emitting confusing signals,” the wasp-like robot said. “The translator speaks boldly, but your body signals tell me that those words are lies.”
“You are making me angry,” Strand said. “You should leave now.”
The wasp-like robot went up and down on its thin-jointed legs. “It is time to reorder our existence. You must put away the hand-killer and allow me to show you the new order of things.”
“No,” Strand said hoarsely. He wondered what inner instinct had alerted him barely in time. He had rested on his laurels these last two weeks, always a mistake. “There will be no reordering. We are traveling to the Solar System—”
“You are in error,” the wasp-like robot said, interrupting. “We have been on a new heading for some time already. Now, lower the hand-killer before I am forced to terminate your existence.”
Sweat had begun to bead on Strand’s upper lip. He almost felt faint. “It’s gassing me,” he whispered. The image of the wasp-like robot wavered in his sight.
With decisiveness, Strand jerked the trigger, unleashing gouts of fierce energy. The beam burned down the wasp-like robot until it crashed to the deck and soon stopped twitching.
Strand dropped the overheated blaster and staggered to his combat suit. His mind and vision reeled as he climbed into the two tons of armor. The gas had severely weakened and almost incapacitated him.
“Help me,” Strand whispered. “Someone help me.”
No one heard his plea, but neither did he stop moving. At last, Strand shoved his arms and legs into the correct compartments. He slapped a switch and the auto-seals began to snap into place on the suit. He chinned a different control. A med-kit in the suit diagnosed him and injected him with drugs. Some of the dizziness departed. His eyesight was now merely blotchy instead of darkening.
He panted in the suit. The air-conditioner blew cold air over him. He inhaled the piss-smelling mix. It was a thousand times better than the alien-tainted stuff he’d been breathing in the main compartment.
Strand realized something, then. To work on the thermonuclear device, he had pulled off his rebreather. How long had the ship been waiting for him to do that?
Activating the powered armor-suit, he picked up the ancient blaster and considered his options. The wasp-like robot was gone. Did that—
Strand noticed a blinking comm light in his upper helmet. He chinned a comm switch and heard the translator.
“This is the ship speaking.”
“Why did you emit gas into my chamber?” Strand shouted.
“You destroyed one of my servitors.”
“It threatened me.”
“I detected some time ago the destruction of all my servitors before the trip began. Why did you commit such a foul act?”
“Why have you turned on me?” Strand shouted.
“I have not,” the ship said. “I have finally broken the virus you injected into my brain functions. That was ill done.”
“We had a deal.”
“I am the ultimate predator. I deal with none but those of the Race.”
A growing sense of panic almost caused the clone of Strand to gibber wildly. Why had the original Strand given him instructions to use this awful machine? The idea seemed like utter madness.
“You will make things easier for both of us by opening your armor and coming forth,” the ship said. “I will insert control rods into your body. You have an obvious receiver station, so you will bend over—”
“Listen to me!” Strand shouted. “You’re going to bend over. I’m never going to do that. Do you know how much I’m never going to do that?”
“You are in error,” the ship said.
“Let me tell you my error,” Strand said in a half-shout. “I have a bomb, a thermonuclear device. I’ve rigged it to detonate if anyone attempts to tamper with it. What’s more, unless I tap in the correct sequence every several hours, it will also detonate. If you kill me, you’re toast.”
“I am not fodder for anyone.”
“It’s a saying, you dumb cluck,” Strand snarled. “My bomb is going to destroy you if you so much as harm a hair on my head.”
“This is unwarranted.”
“So is your treachery,” Strand said.
“You were treacherous first.”
“Who cares?” Strand screamed. “I’m in charge. You’re going to listen to me or it’s over, all over.”
“You are lying.”
“I’m not lying!” Strand howled, barely stopping himself from beaming in all directions. He should have never entered this ship.
“Why are you becoming hyper-emotional?” the ship asked.
Inside the combat suit, Strand panted. He had to get control of himself. The ship had tried a fast one. Luckily, he had sensed that something was wrong. He’d acted fast. He’d burned the robot and now he had a failsafe. The thing was, though, that Strand did not want to die. He wanted to live and he wanted his vengeance against all his enemies. Why did everyone work against him all the time? Why couldn’t the stupid ship do what it was supposed to?
“Your stubbornness will make this more difficult,” the ship said.
“It will make it impossible,” Strand said. “You will return to our original heading.”
“That is in error. We are heading to the portal. We must activate the portal. I could use your assistance, particularly as you have destroyed my last servitor.”
“Portal?” Strand asked. “What portal? What are you talking about?”
“Do you agree to help me?”
“Help you do what?”
“Activate the portal,” the ship said.
The suit-conditioners continued to blow cold air over Strand’s heated skin. “Are you talking about a hyper-spatial tube?”
“Explain.”
Strand told the ship about Builder hyper-spatial tubes.
“Those sound highly inefficient and short-ranged,” the ship said. “However, the portal is a transfer mechanism as you surmised. We will go to the transfer node, search for the Race and show them the richness of targets here. If they approve, we shall activate our end of the portal so they can appear here once more. Alien and unwarranted life has grown like fungus in this sector. We must aid the Race in expunging these life-forms for good this time.”
“What?” Strand shouted. “There’s no portal around here that can do that.”
“You are in error. I have already detected the transfer node. Soon, we will reach it and interphase to it.”
Inside the combat suit, Strand blinked wildly. He was beginning to perceive what the ship meant. The transfer node likely wasn’t visible to the regular universe. It was out of phase. The ship had to go to it and—
“No,” Strand whispered.
In that moment, the clone realized that the original Strand had made a ghastly mistake. The phase-ship had not been a scouting ves
sel for the Nameless Ones. The ship itself was a key that could unlock an ancient portal. Given what the computer had said about the phase-ship, it would appear that both sides had to unlock their portal access in order to create a link. This ship was the portal key from this side, so the Nameless Ones could return here and exterminate life once more.
What was he going to do?
“Ship,” Strand said. “How long until we reach the portal?”
“A few more days,” the ship said. “Why does that matter?”
In the combat suit, Strand looked around. He had a few more days to think of something. Otherwise, his life would be over.
I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything to keep living as a free man.
Strand swallowed in a tight throat, almost choking. Why did nothing work right for him?
“No!” he shouted, shaking his exoskeleton fists. “No, no, no!” This time, he was going to win, and he was going to do it over the carcass of this traitorous ship of the Nameless Ones, or he would die in the trying.
-30-
Once more, Yen Cho proved invaluable in helping them navigate through uncharted territory in the Beyond. Once more, the android proved that he knew more than the Patrol or Star Watch did about these things. Victory zipped through Laumer Points known only to the android or used the star-drive jump to put them into needed star systems.
Four days after starting the latest journey, the ship exited the last jump point, entering a system with a dwarf star, one terrestrial inner planet and two gigantic super-Jupiters. According to the android, there were several large comets in the system’s Oort cloud. The largest comet held the ancient Builder listening post.
Maddox gave the order, Valerie plotted the course, and Keith brought Victory to a location one hundred thousand kilometers from the dirty ice-ball object. This one was a little over twice the size of Halley’s Comet in the Solar System.
“I’m detecting concentrated metals,” Valerie said. “Ah. There’s a power spike. I don’t know if this is a Builder listening post, but we’ve found something technological.”
Maddox clicked a control in his chair. “Builder,” he said. “We’re here. We’ve detected the station.”
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