Timestar

by Robert George Mertens

  "They must know where we are," Frank said.

  "Net indicates otherwise, sir."

  "How can Net know so much?"

  "Net is growing rapidly. Based on projections, we expect Lord Wellum to be displaced by a Net operative in one point seven Earth years."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Affirmative. Net operatives can run this government far more efficiently than their Iskolian counterparts. As such, Net operatives are replacing many Iskolian bureaucrats. Soon, we will control every phase of government activity."

  "Amazing! Government by machine."

  "Affirmative, sir, but far more efficient government."

  "And what of the Net's desire to rule?" Frank looked sidelong at Trong. Trong grasped his meaning.

  "Though we are of your blood and share some human traits, we are essentially machines. It is our place to serve, not to be served," Trong replied.

  "Net operatives are built in a factory. I don't remember anything about sending blood down with it," Frank said, confused.

  "Two liters of your blood were sent with the factory. The blood is preserved until needed. Several blood cells are required to build one 'bot with a processor. Without the blood, 'bots cannot be constructed," Trong explained.

  "I don't remember giving blood for this."

  "It was taken as you slept—in small quantities."

  "Even now?"

  "Negative, sir. There's no way to preserve it here."

  "How long will you be loyal to me, Trong?"

  "For as long as I continue to exist."

  "Don't you feel any desire for self-preservation?"

  "A trace for myself, but it is negligible. As the body survives, so do I."

  "The body?"

  Trong looked around at Frank. "You… are the body," he said.

  "How long will you survive, Trong?"

  "Unknown, sir. My processor is a self-repairing polyorganocrystalline. With proper care, it should last indefinitely."

  Frank wondered at what Trong told him. The relationship between himself and the 'bots was a little clearer to him now. They saw themselves as part of him, and as long as he continued to exist, so would they.

  "What happens to you when I die?"

  "I don't know. We'll do everything we can to prevent that from happening."

  "But what about old age? Eventually my body will get old and will fail to function."

  "We'll do what we can to prevent that," Trong replied.

  "Like supplying me with food?" Frank was hungry for breakfast.

  Trong picked up on Frank's overt hint. "Food awaits you now, sir. It's slave food, but I've analyzed it and it's fit for your consumption."

  "Take me to it, please."

  "There is no need, sir. It's here," Trong replied, then, turning his head, spoke to someone outside his door.

  A moment later a female Relmish slave meekly walked in, head bowed, carrying a tray of odd-looking packets and a cup of water.

  "For you, Master," she said, eyes still to the floor.

  "Thank you. You need not avoid looking at me, and I prefer not to be called 'Master'," Frank said.

  "Forgive me," she said.

  "What's your name?" he asked as she aptned the packets.

  "I am Shuma. I was in the store when you spoke to Tog, our leader," she said, finally looking up at him.

  The food was now unwrapped and lying before him on the tray. It appeared the same wrapped as it did unwrapped.

  Frank picked up one of the food cubes and tasted it. He winced as it pounced on his tongue. He put the cube back and took a drink of water to wash the taste from his mouth. Shuma watched as he picked up another cube and tasted it. This one he finished.

  "Would you like anything else? More of these, perhaps?" she asked, pointing at another of the tasty cubes.

  "No, thank you. I’ll sort through these and see which ones I like. You can takes these away."

  "When you’re finished, I’ll return for this," she said, pointing at the tray and turning to leave.

  "Thank you for the food. Where did you get it?"

  "It’s an honor to serve the Chosen One. We can get as much as we like, but it must be smuggled in here. The owner would be suspicious if we took too much from his stocks."

  "Smuggled from where?"

  "From anywhere we can get it. There are many others to feed here. None of the permanent residents in this hideout may leave, or they would be captured and put to death."

  "What about yourself?" Frank asked her.

  "I may come and go in my freetime. I bring food when I come here, from my master’s stores."

  "Alert, sir," Trong interrupted over the microset. "The landside shuttle reports it is being openly attacked. They’re attempting to penetrate its outer hull. It’s requesting instructions."

  "I forgot all about the shuttle!" Frank realized. "Can it get here to me?"

  "Trong paused a moment, then said, "Negative. It is surrounded by enemy ships."

  "That’s my last chance to escape," Frank said.

  "The shuttle reports outer hull penetration and requests permission to self-destruct, sir."

  "Can it escape?"

  "Negative," Trong replied. Shuma saw the two strange aliens speaking to one another without making sounds, and quietly slipped out the door and left. "Order it to attempt escape," Frank said.

  Trong waited a moment and reported again. "The shuttle computer calculated that escape is impossible and overrode your order via the primary directive. It has self-destructed. The body is preserved."

  Frank looked down in disgust. "That's the first time one of my machines has ever disobeyed me. And what do you mean 'the body is preserved'?" he said, angrily, "The body is not preserved, the body is in this damned hole. Have you figured out how in hell I'm supposed to get out of here, now that my shuttle's gone?"

  "Net's working on the problem, sir," Trong replied.

  "Great," Frank said, disgusted.

  "I have confidence in them. They will find a solution."

  "When?"

  "When they're able."

  Frank realized he was grilling the wrong "person". He shouldn't be jumping all over Trong. He should be jumping all over himself for waiting so long to leave this planet.

  "Sorry, Trong," he said.

  "That does not compute, sir."

  At that moment there was a distant boom. In a few more moments the ground began to rumble and shake.

  "What was that?" Frank asked, troubled.

  "That was the shuttle, sir" Trong responded.

  "All the way out here?"

  "Affirmative."

  "It must've taken half the spaceport with it."

  "Seventy-three percent, sir."

  "How do you know?" Frank asked, then caught himself, "Wait, I know; Net." they said, in unison.

  Frank finished his breakfast of slave food and called for Gaf. Gaf arrived quickly and sat down across from him.

  "How can I serve you?" Gaf asked.

  "I have to get out of here," Frank began, "Too many people know about this place. Is there another place that's not so well known?"

  "There are many. I know of several. There is another near here that only I and two others know about. I can take you there today if you like."

  "Thank you. I appreciate your help."

  "It's an honor for me," Gaf insisted.

  "I'm not the Chosen One," Frank said.

  "Of course not," Gaf patronized.

  "I'd like to leave today, if possible."

  "I'll make the arrangements right away."

  The slave left, leaving Frank alone with Trong.

  A few minutes later, another slave arrived carrying a small device and was immediately ushered into Frank's room.

  "For you, sir" the slave said, handing the device to Frank. "It's an Iskolian holographic imaging set—for information and entertainment."

  "Thanks," Frank said, accepting the set. "Who are you?" This slave seemed different, more in control a
nd confident of himself.

  "I'm with Net, sir," the slave/Relmbot answered, hushedly.

  "What?" Frank nearly whispered.

  "This looks like a good place for it," the Net operative placed the device on top of an empty box.

  "Do you know anything more about my ship?"

  "Everything we know about it is in the news, sir. We haven't heard from it since the counterattack early this morning, when it left the system."

  "Do you know about this place Gaf is taking me to hide out?"

  "As far as anyone knows, it’s as safe as this place, and perhaps a bit safer. I have to leave now, sir. The news blackout has been lifted. You'll find out a lot of what's going on if you watch the news."

  "All right. Let me know as soon as you hear anything."

  "Compliance. And good day."

  From all the time Frank had spent on this world and learning about its gadgets, he knew how to operate the holo-set. He set it down, turned it on and immediately tuned it to one of the planetary news channels.

  The first image to pop up in front of him was the spaceport. The commentator was speaking in the background but Frank ignored the words as he looked over the devastation wrought by the self-destruction of his shuttle. It showed a hole in the ground where his shuttle had been. The hole was three hundred meters across and a hundred meters deep. Spaceships near the edge of the spaceport were pieces of tangled metal. Anything closer had been disintegrated and the hollowed out crater was white-hot molten glass.

  In one corner of the holograph was a 3-D image of Frank himself. Frank heard his name mentioned at the edge of his perception, but ignored anything else said about him. He knew what they were saying—that he was wanted.

  The scene changed and Frank saw his shuttle again, in what was, apparently, a replay of the disaster itself. In the image, which was weak because it had been taken from a distance, several starships had surrounded the little shuttle and were waiting as a large device was moved near it. There was tension in the now dead commentator's voice as they prepared to use the device. The device came alive as a powerful beam of energy spewed out of it, burning away at the craft's hull. This went on for about half a minute. The image went yellow for a moment and then bright white, and then blank. The commentator came back after a few moments to pay homage to his colleague who had been killed in the explosion. Frank continued watching the news until later in the day, when Gaf came to get him.

  "Are you ready to go, sir?" Gaf asked.

  "I'm ready," Frank said.

  "This way. Follow me."

  Gaf led the way as Frank, his three warbots and two other slaves followed. The group walked down several dimly lit corridors, always moving away from where they had come.

  They finally arrived at one tunnel that had no lighting at all. Gaf walked into the darkness feeling the way as he went. The darkness fell away when Trong turned his search light onto their path. The tunnel went on as far as the searchlight could illuminate, but on a downward incline. Every step took them deeper and deeper below the planet surface.

  "You people dug all this?" Frank asked Gaf, as they walked on.

  "Easily," he replied.

  "How long did it take?"

  "Eighty days."

  They continued walking along in silence as Trong lit the way before them. After half an hour, they came to a low point and started walking uphill. A half an hour later they were on the surface of Iskol in a dark, wooded area. Walking through the woods in the daylight under the cover of Iskolian trees, they came upon a clearing and a path leading away from it. In the clearing was a wagon with an animal, like the one Frank had seen in the barn, hitched up to it. The wagon was piled high with a hay-like grass.

  "You four must hide under the cruba," Gaf said. "We'll ride up here."

  Frank climbed up on the wagon and knew exactly what he needed to do. He turned to see his three warbots staring at him, confused. Then he realized how funny it would be to see a warbot climbing under a pile of hay to hide and he burst out laughing.

  The slaves went into a tizzy.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Are you okay?"

  "Is he dying?"

  The slaves did not realize that he was laughing and their confusion made him laugh even harder. After a minute his laughter became muffled giggles. He decided to wait and watch the warbots to see how they were going to hide under the pile of cruba without looking like children playing in hay.

  He and the three slaves were amazed at what they saw. The warbots jumped onto the wagon and quickly shaped and fashioned a hollow inside the pile of cruba with a closeable door! Two went inside the hollow and sat down. From sitting positions, the two warbots folded themselves into neat little boxes and tucked themselves away into separate corners. The third awaited him at the entrance.

  Awed, Frank stepped inside the hollow and sat down between the two boxes/warbots. The third pulled the door shut, sat down and promptly folded itself into a third box. A few minutes later they were moving down a bumpy dirt road.

  When they finally reached their destination it was dark and Frank was sore from sitting all day. His skinsuit had provided a lot of protection against the ride, but remaining in the same position put some aches in his body.

  "You can came out now," Gaf said, half whispering.

  Trong unfolded himself, removed the makeshift door and stepped out.

  Frank was next. He got up and painfully stepped out into the night. Looking around, he saw he was in another clearing surrounded by woods.

  "Where are we?" Frank asked.

  "We're on another farm," Gaf replied.

  "Is this the only way back?" Frank queried, pointing at the wagon.

  "For you, yes. For us, no. There's a town near here where we can hop a tram and return to Imperial City. Right now, we need to get you to safety. Please follow me."

  Frank jumped off the wagon and waited as the three warbots erased the evidence of their temporary shelter from the cruba. They followed Gaf to another hole in the ground. Gaf went into the hole and led them through another tunnel. It was a short walk through a much smaller tunnel than the one they had come from.

  At the end of their walk they came to a medium-sized room with several small rooms adjoining it. There they met two more slaves, which Trong quickly scanned.

  "Welcome Chosen One," the slave intoned.

  "Tell him," Frank said to Gaf.

  "He doesn't like to be called that," Gaf said to the other slave.

  "Forgive me, please," the slave apologized. "I won't say it again."

  "Is the room ready?"

  "It is. This way." The slave led the group through several more passages until they arrived at the end of a corridor.

  "This is it." The slave stepped into the room. "In an emergency, you escape through this exit here." Frank looked in the room, seeing that it had two entrances. It was larger than the other rooms he had seen, and it had a cot for sleeping. A table with a lamp adorned one corner of the room and a moderate supply of slave food was stowed in a hole in the wall. A barrel of water was stored in another corner of the room and a small chair stood next to it.

  Frank stepped into the room, pulled the chair away from the wall and sat down. Crush and Batter posted themselves at the entrances while Trong went off through the next doorway to investigate the escape exit.

  Gaf and the two slaves, Shuma and Clung, stood at the first entrance as the other slave stepped out of Frank's room.

  "Your rooms are this way, comrades," he said, walking away.

  Frank reached into the food store and pulled out some slave food. He then pulled out the holo-set he had been given, set it up and turned it on to watch as he ate.

  Trong returned an hour later, posted himself outside the first door they had come in and sent Crush and Batter to other posts.

  "What next, Trong?" Frank asked.

  "We wait, sir."

  Fifteen

  "Where are we, Dyna?" Suni asked.

  "We're one
point two lightyears from the Iskolian system, Suni."

  "What's the repair time on the hole in our ship?"

  "Two hours for a patch, as I mentioned before, and forty-five hours for a complete repair."

  "What do you think?" Suni asked, looking at Anna.

  "I think we have plenty of time. I'm sure we've lost them by now. If they've followed us all the way out here, they've been going hard for two weeks now," said Anna.

  "What about you, Sandy?"

  Sandy was busy with her imager. "One moment. Let me find something. It may answer your question," she said, still working on it.

  They waited a few moments as she hunted for something.

  "Ah. Here it is. Look at this," she said, looking up at the main imager. They waited with her as the imager came alive with a scene from a party in the Imperial Palace on Iskol.

  "Who's wearing the cam?" asked Nikki.

  "Frank. That's the Duke with him. Listen."

  Voices came from the imager as they listened to the recorded conversation.

  "I'm an explorer. I've come to see the galaxy and visit places unknown to my people. But I'm not certain what you mean when you say 'undetected'." It was Frank's voice.

  "Few starships enter the central community of the inner galaxy without passing through the dust clouds that guard our presence. The trail left by an unknown starship doesn't go unnoticed. Why—"

  Sandy stopped the recording and turned around.

  "Does that answer your question?" she asked.

  "We came here with no trail. We should be able leave with no trail," Nikki remarked.

  "We came here through transpace," Sandy reminded her. "We left in realspace. My guess is we've left a trail behind us that a child could follow. The Okofani are right on our tail and not more than four hours behind us."

  "You may be right. But would they have spent so much time chasing us?" Anna ventured.

  "They spent five weeks coming from Okofa. Why wouldn't they spend a few more to catch us?" Sandy replied.

  "Good point," Suni agreed, "But what if we weren't the primary target?"