He finished eating and Trong began going over the plan, which was, according to Net, fool-proof. Shuma and Clung arrived a few minutes later.
"Please, you must let us speak with him."
"He is occupied at the moment. Can you come back later?"
Frank heard the commotion outside his room and inquired about it, "What is it, Crush?"
"Slaves wish to speak with you, sir," Crush replied, turning about to face him.
"It is not good timing," Trong said to Frank.
"I know. This can wait, though. Let them in."
Crush stepped around and ushered the two slaves into the room.
"We know that you're leaving us," Shuma began, looking at Frank, "but you must allow us to help. We have concern here."
"It is not necceseary," Trong replied, "Everything has been arranged."
"Please," Shuma implored him, "you must let us help. There's much we can do."
Frank regarded Shuma for a moment, then Clung, who also looked at him imploringly, then at Trong, and again at Shuma.
"Why?" he asked her. "Why risk your lives one more moment for me?"
"Is it not obvious?" she asked in reply.
"No… it isn't." Frank watched her eyes as tears welled inside them. He couldn't stand it and gave in. "Alright. You can help. Trong?"
"There is nothing we know of that they can do."
"Tell Net to make a new plan, and include them."
"Compliance."
"Let me know when the new plan is ready."
"Compliance."
"Thank you, thank you so much."
"I should thank you. You've done everything for me. You've risked your lives to keep me alive. It's the least I can do to grant you this. But that doesn't mean that I've forgotten about your situation."
"Yes," the word fell away from her, she was so happy.
Later that afternoon the new plan, which included the slaves, was revealed to slave and human alike.
"This plan provides an additional measure of safety without compromising the safety of the new participants," Trong explained, referring to the slaves. "They will provide a distraction to the patrollers during the most uncertain time of our escape. Crush, Batter and I will, of neccessity, be stored in shipping crates to be processed for shipment by Net operatives. You will be disguised as a Kinorian Shipman," he said to Frank, "This module will help with the disguise when it is plugged into your skinsuit. If I may?" Trong opened his palm, revealing the device.
"Sure," Frank said, turning. He removed his shirt, exposing the neutronium skinsuit primary control unit. With liquid dexterity, Trong placed the disguising module on the control unit, which quietly accepted it.
Immediatly, Frank began changing shape, and in a few moments he appeared as a completely different being.
The slaves looking on gawked at the spectacle. "Unbelieveable!" Shuma exclaimed.
"I've never seen anything like this before," said Clung.
"A Kinorian!"
"Ugly, but surely Kinorian."
"Ahhgh," Frank reported, "I'm in pain. This hurts like hell!"
"An anesthetic can be applied, if neccesary," Trong replied.
"Not now, just take it off!" As soon as he said it the new shape went away and his pain was relieved. "Oh—that's better."
"You need only command your skinsuit, and the disguise will return," Trong explained, "It is also programmed to provide local anesthesia to relieve pain from the shape change. Your disguise will require that you dress in these clothes." Trong lifted a box from the table and opened it, showing Frank his escape attire.
"I don't think I'll be turning that thing on again for a while."
Frank spent the next two days going over the escape plan in detail and trying on his new clothes. He tried on his new body once more but was quickly reminded of the pain it inflicted and did not try it again. Two days passed quickly for him.
"We must leave you now, sir," Trong reported in the afternoon. "The shipping crates have arrived. We'll be monitoring your progress, but from now until the freighter ship rendezvous with the Butterworth, you'll be on your own. Good luck to you, sir."
"Good luck to you, Trong."
With that, Trong, Crush and Batter left, hopefully to be delivered to the escape ship.
Frank turned away as his three guardians left. He thought he would pity the poor Iskolian soul that errantly discovered one of them. He felt alone.
But the feeling did not last long. Shuma and Clung returned shortly after the warbots left.
"You remember the plan now, Shuma?"
"How can I forget, Frank. You've gone over it a life's supply!"
"I just don't want anyone to get hurt."
"Everything will be fine, don't worry. We have to go now. We'll see you at the spaceport."
"Good luck."
"What?"
"Oh—that's an Earth phrase. I guess it means 'Uunta go with you'."
"Oh. And may Uunta go with you, Frank Jameson. Goodbye.
"Goodbye."
Now he was alone. But he knew the plan well. In four hours he would 'don' his disguise, go to the planet surface and hop on the regularly scheduled public tram. His excuse for being out so far would be that he was intoxicated, got lost and slept by the road the night before.
These had to be some of the longest hours of his life. He spent the time considering what to do about the Relmish slaves, and wondering if it would be worth seeking revenge on Lord Wellum for attempting to murder him. He thought about the Okofani, who had almost killed Maria. He wondered how Maria was doing. Reports from the Butterworth had been coded, but brief.
Four hours later a light 'beep' in his ear told him it was time for him to leave.
"Disguise—on," he said, and his body took its new shape. "Uhgg, anesthesia—on." The anesthesia came and quickly routed the pain of his new form. He made his way to the surface and walked quietly to the nearest public tram station, which turned out to be about three hundred meters down the dirt farm road.
The tram arrived on schedule and Frank boarded it. The tram carried two lone Iskolian passengers, who both looked at him suspiciously but asked no questions and made no remarks.
The tram went through eight more stations before it finally arrived back in the Imperial City, at which point Frank disembarked.
The tram station was jammed with Iskolians and a few off-worlders who, like himself, received occassional wondering stares.
Twenty minutes later, the spaceport tram arrived and he boarded it. It was a ten-minute ride to the spaceport.
Arriving at the spaceport, he quickly found an access route and made his way to the lower levels. Apparently, his disguise was holding up well, since he had not been arrested yet.
Patrollers were everywhere, and sometimes stopped him. He simply flashed his fake I.D. and continued on his way.
He arrived at the crew entrance, at which point a high desk barred his way. Behind the desk were Iskolian customs officials.
"Orders, please," the Iskolian requested.
Frank pulled out the forged orders and handed them to the official, who took them and looked them over.
"Here is your boarding key," the Iskolian said after a few moments, handing him a small, clear disc with a finger-sized handle on it. "Put the disc in the slot when you board the port-tram—it'll take you directly to your craft. Pass through."
"Thank you," Frank replied.
He passed through the entrance into the tram terminal. No trams were there so he waited. A few minutes later a tram did arrive, but was tightly packed with Relmish slaves. The tram stopped and they all got out, filling the terminal to the point that they crowded him.
He knew this was not part of the plan, and if anything, was jeopardizing it.
"What's going on?" he asked a slave, bewildered.
"Freetime," the slave replied, without looking up, "time to go out."
"Oh."
Meanwhile he was trying to politely push his way through to catch
his tram. The terminal was clearing as the slaves filed out, but before he could get in the tram the doors closed and the tram left.
"Damn!" he muttered under his breath. And he waited again, worrying that things were not quite on schedule now. Hopefully, he still had plenty of time and the schedule would not be too far off.
The next tram arrived bearing more slaves, but this time he waited next to the door, and when the tram was empty he entered.
"Destination, please," the tram called to him.
"Oh." He pulled out his boarding key and slid it into the keyslot.
"Thank you." the tram was appeased.
It glided through the underground corridor, stopping at intervals to pick up slaves and drop them off. Most of the slaves that got on stayed on, apparently going to enjoy their freetime. Frank minded his own business and did not say anything.
"Stop for Kalo," the tram announced, arriving at the next terminal.
He waited for the tram to go again, but the tram repeated its announcement, "Stop for Kalo."
He looked up, seeing that he was the only alien in the car. The slaves were looking at him. Finally, one of the slaves nudged him.
"You Kalo?" he asked.
"Oh… yes," he remembered, then exited the tram. "This is it," he said to himself, nervously.
On the other side of the small terminal was a freight lift. He promptly boarded it and tapped the activation panel. It was an open lift and he could see the wall sliding downward. The ride to the surface was longer than he expected. He guessed it to be two hundred meters to the top.
The lift took him straight into the guts of the freighter, and came to a stop roughly fifty meters above the surface of the spaceport.
"Ah, you da new man," the voice came from behind. He turned to face it. The creature was tall with brass-colored skin and silver fangs. It had two arms and two legs, though it was skinny and boneless in appearance.
"You go see Salba," it said, as Frank gawked at the creature. Clearly, he could see that the thing had a snout like a dog, though short, like a Pug. After a moment, it realized that Frank was staring.
"Whad da madder, you nod see my kind before? You Kinorian shipman. Dey say Kinorian besd mechanics. Bud you look like you never see udder peoples before. How many dime you fly?"
"Oh, sorry. I've never seen your kind before." "Yeah, you preddy doo. Ged going." Frank walked past the alien toward the nearest exit from the loading bay.
"Hey!" the alien called, as Frank walked past.
He turned, looking at the thing. The creature had its four-fingered hand out and Frank looked at it.
"Boarding key!" the being said, irritated.
He handed it the key given him by the Iskolian and turned again to walk away.
"Hey!"
"What!" Frank retorted.
"Dad way," the creature replied, pointing another direction, voice subdued.
He turned and walked in the direction the creature had pointed, eyeing the creature as he walked past again. Frank found a door across the large bay and went through it into a corridor. Seeing another of the tall brass-colored aliens, he stopped it.
"Where can I find Salba?" he asked.
"Salba da mechanic helper. He in da mechanic room," the creature said, pointing downward.
"Which way?"
"Wad? You da Kinorian. You nod know where da mechanic room?"
"I'm new to this ship."
"Wad ship? All ship da same."
"Just tell me which way!" Frank said, heatedly.
"Go down." the being said, again, voice stifled. "You godda hurry, ship leaving in lokada zinla - seven poind dree dree minuds," came through his skinsuit translator.
Frank was not sure why, but he had the impression that he needed to be somewhere else than here for takeoff. Leaving the alien, he moved quickly through the corridor looking for a way ‘down.’
He saw it out the corner of his eye. Stairs! By now, he guessed that he had about three minutes left to get "in place" before the ship took off. Running down the stairs, he flew past gigantic pieces of machinery, following the stairs as the skirted the outer hull of the ship.
Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he looked up and guessed it to be thirty meters back up. He hoped he was in the right place. He began looking for Salba, peering into niches, looking for doors that might lead to a place to be during liftoff.
"Hey! You bedder hurry!"
Frank turned to his right and saw another of the creatures. Frank walked over to it.
"You Salba?"
"Yeah. And you gonna be ded you don’ ged in here!"
The two went into the room, Frank closing the door behind them. Frank watched the alien as it sat down in an odd-looking laid-down chair. He did the same. Then the creature tapped a white panel on the chair arm and was enveloped in a strange haze with discreet boundaries, like a close magnetic field of some sort. Frank tapped the white panel on his chair.
The haze gripped him like a vise to the point that he could barely breathe. A moment later the ship’s engines came alive with a roar that deafened. A moment after that, his skinsuit translator cut the sound down to a dull rumble.
He could feel the rumble as well and only tried to imagine how much power was being poured out and wasted just on noise. The starship lifted and Frank could feel the accelleration as the haze-field gripped him more tightly.
It seemed to go on for hours, though Frank knew that it was only minutes. He gasped for air, but his lungs would not work. Air came to him very slowly, as though the haze was giving in, but only gradually. He strained for air to the point of pain in his ribs. In a few more moments he would be unconcious. He could feel the power of the skinsuit working with him, but the haze only thickened at those places where the suit pushed.
The haze-field vanished completely, and he gasped the air, taking it down in gulps and coughing it back. The hard part appeared to be over but he was still pinned to his chair.
The engine roar grew louder and again, the skinsuit compensated, reducing the noise level.
"Skinsuit," Frank queried, "I'm smelling ozone. Is there a problem?"
"External ozone concentration is ninety-three percent," his skinsuit replied through his comlink, "Conversion rate was incompatable with intake rate. All systems green—no malfunctions."
He suspected that an ozone level of ninety-three percent would probably kill him almost immediately, and once again thanked Dyna for it.
"Trong? Can you hear me?"
"I hear you, sir—I'm in the cargo bay. Your signal is weak."
"Are you… functional?"
"Yes, sir. All of my systems are working well. The accelleration was very great, I measured a g-force of one-sixty-five."
"The vulaxium hull appears to be affecting radio transmissions, and even now I am boosting my signal-strength in order to reach you. We must keep communication to a minimum."
"Then why are we talking now?"
"I am compressing my messages into microsecond bursts. They will not be able to locate the source this way. You, however, may be under immediate suspicion when our acceleration is reduced to tolerable levels."
"Skinsuit, compress messages—"
"I have already directed it to do so, sir," Trong cut in.
"Thanks. One more question, I'm supposed to be the ship's mechanic. I hope you know how this stuff works, because I don't recognize any of it."
"Analysis programs are stored in your Kinorian module. Just ask your skinsuit for help."
Frank realized that an alien was gawking at him as he sat in his launch-chair, seemingly, talking to himself… or no one.
Seventeen
"Try it now," Michelle said. "Okay, here it goes," Anna responded. "It's working! The field's up. It looks just like a black hole," Paddy called. "Do we get Suni up for this?" Anna queried.
"I don't think so, let's surprise her in the morning," Michelle replied. "There's still a lot of work to do. I think we should get some sleep, we've been at this fo
r thirty hours now."
"You've been at this for thirty hours," Anna said, "We've only been at it for fifteen. Why don't you get some sleep, Michelle, Paddy and I will show it to Suni in the morning."
"I really should stay and—"
"Go to bed! You've been up too long already. It'll be hell trying to get you off of helm duty, tomorrow. It'll be more hell if she makes you work it," Sandy ordered.
"I don't mind doing my share of helm duty. It's everyone's responsibility."
"Michelle, if I have to haul you off myself, I'll—"
"Okay, okay, I'm going."
Dyna's wake-up call had always been the most frustrating part of Suni's day. This morning was typical. There would be extended groginess straight through breakfast. The long hours and responsibilities that go with captaining a starship, even one with only nine crewmembers, took their toll. To her, every moment of sleep was a moment wasted. She needed more time! Time to get the ship in good enough shape to make the rendezvous with the freighter that carried Frank. One week remained, and it was not enough. She should not even waste time on breakfast. But she needed energy, she barely had enough to get out of bed.
A few sips of tea got her through her morning shower, then a little more tea would bring her with her morning robe to the breakfast table, where a gourmet Japanese breakfast awaited her. She took the morning reports over the com-link from Dyna as she ate. Work began immediately.
"Item fourteen, Sahn has reached grade level three in her studies and continued improvement is expected, as usual. Her learning curve remains high. Finally, item fifteen, Paddy and Anna have a surprise for you," Dyna finished.
"I don't like surprises," Suni responded.
"This is a good surprise."
"Those, I will tolerate. What is it?"
"One moment, please." A few moments passed.
"Good morning, Suni," came over the 3-D tube displaying Paddy's face.
"Good morning, Paddy, I understand you have a… surprise for me."
"We do, and it's going to make you very happy."
"I hope so." Few things made Suni happy first thing in the morning.
"This is it," Paddy said as the viewer changed, showing an image of the black hole (or lack thereof) they presently orbited. "What you're seeing here is our Event Horizon Simulator—EHS for short. We finally managed to get it working early this morning. Michelle was up thirty hours working on it."
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