by B. V. Larson
Marvin eagerly extended his tentacles toward the brainboxes, but he hesitated.
“Will my access be withdrawn after I deliver this data to you?” he asked.
“Uh…” I said, my mind racing. I had to think clearly when talking to this robot. He’d been child-like yesterday, but he was advancing rapidly.
Thinking like Marvin, I realized he would probably never find the data I wanted if he was going to be given access only until he found it.
“I’ll give you four hours,” I said. “I’ll want a substantial report after that. If I’m satisfied, you’ll be given access for another four hours. This cycle will repeat until we arrive at a Star Force orbital station. At that point, I’ll expect a full report.”
“What bonus will I receive for the final report?” he asked.
I let out a sigh. “If I like it, I’ll pat you on the head.”
He looked at my hand.
“That reward is of dubious value,” he said.
“But my continued good-nature is worth a lot. Get to work, robot.”
I stood up and left him there in the data core. I hoped, from the bottom of my heart, that I wasn’t making a mistake by letting Marvin Junior play around in there. If I’d had more time, I wouldn’t have allowed it.
But I was running out of options, and he was the only entity who was capable of the work and who was at least marginally on my side. We were scheduled to make planetfall over Earth tomorrow, and I knew I had to have all the information I could get by then.
* * *
By the time we reached Earth, I’d made a few thready connections with Marvin’s help. Turnbull’s name was associated with the special scripting for Valiant in two locations. Both were connected because he’d been present in the chain of approval documents due to his sitting on various government committees.
Of course, the documents hadn’t authorized turning Valiant into a killing machine. Instead, they’d allowed an outside contractor to work on the ship’s core programming.
After careful checking, it was determined the contracting company was wholly owned by Turnbull industries. That in itself was only proof of a very minor form of corruption. There’d never been a government in history that hadn’t been riddled with backroom deals that enriched participants.
But I believed the programming contract hadn’t been procured for the purpose of putting a few extra coins into Grantham’s pocket. He’d had murder in mind.
The trail went back through to Greyhound as well. She’d been programmed by the same group. I felt certain that, if I could look back into the past, I’d see someone rewriting that ship’s script to inflict injury on me as well.
The accident hadn’t been an accident. It had been attempted murder. Traveling out to meet Turnbull’s brother later on had triggered similar software on that ship.
A startling thought came to me as I questioned Marvin about the details.
“Marvin,” I said, “what other Star Force ships have been programmed by this company—what’s it called?”
“Structured Software Incorporated.”
“Structured Software—maybe to help install a new structure? Have you located a list of people who these ships don’t like?”
“Yes, but the trigger events haven’t been tripped for most personnel.”
I stared at the little robot. What was growing in my mind was monstrous. A plot beyond anything I’d envisioned.
“How many names are on the list, Marvin?”
“Approximately six thousand. Some have been recently deleted with the latest update, but others—”
“Hold on,” I said. “Who are these people? Profile them.”
“Academy graduates make up forty-one percent. Career noncoms make up the majority of the rest. Most of the personnel are over the age of thirty, and they have a long record of service in Star Force. There’s also a small but intriguing sub-list of celebrities and politicians.”
I nodded, stunned. It all made sense.
“He meant to wipe out the top officers and the most experienced noncoms in the fleet. Imagine, our own ships killing our own crews, executing a massive purge. It’s incredible.”
“Are you pleased with my report, Captain?” Marvin asked.
“Yes—well, I’m not happy, but you did a good job.”
“I would like to request an upgrade to my final reward. Rather than a pat on the head, I’d prefer to have access to more physical components.”
“Such as arms? Legs? Engines?”
“Yes.”
“You can have one more arm, and you can thicken your undercarriage to support the weight. Anything else?”
“Yes. I calculate that I’ll need a larger power supply to operate the additional equipment.”
I sighed. I could already see that Marvin was growing. If I let him, he’d be as big as a freight train in a few months.
-39-
Planetfall over Earth wasn’t what I’d hoped for. Instead of celebrating, the crew was nervous. A few were drunk, but they weren’t smiling. They had red-rimmed eyes and sweaty necks. No one spoke much, except to call out needed information.
“Starboard a degree, helm,” I said as we drifted into our assigned dock.
“On it, sir,” Hansen said.
“Clamps out. Watch the Dagger ports. This berth isn’t shaped to fit our design changes.”
“Roger that,” Hansen said, grunting as he fought the controls. We had to do everything manually as Valiant was still dead. “Steady…steady…good!”
We were in. The ship rumbled as a dozen retros fired in tiny increments in a complex pattern to ease us into place. I frowned, noting that none of the crew was manning the brakes.
“Did we get a specialized brainbox hooked up? No one can tap all those retros at once that fast.”
Hansen looked sheepish. “I asked for some help. It looks like he did a good job.”
I stared at him for a second. “Marvin? You hooked a baby robot up to our braking system?”
“He’s almost three days old. That’s pretty good for a bot like him.”
Shaking my head, I had to admit he’d done a stellar job. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a treat he’d want for this small service.
“Sir?” asked a feminine voice behind me.
I turned to meet Cybele. She looked as shy and lovely as always. I had to remind myself she was really a bag of slime—but weren’t we all?
Giving myself an imperceptible shake, I forced a tight smile. “Yes, Cybele. What is it?”
“I know you have a meeting set up with the base commander here at the station.”
“Correct. If you could excuse me, I must get down to the main hatchway.”
Cybele followed me toward the bridge exit, as did Adrienne’s eyes. I was very aware of both of them, but I tried to pretend I was all business. Why did this girl have to choose now to make another play? If that’s what she was doing. Didn’t she know Adrienne was watching us both like a hawk?
“Sir,” she said quietly at the hatch, “I want to go with you. I think I can help.”
She made a grabbing motion with her hand. I looked at it, puzzled. It looked as if she’d just washed her hands, and there was a little soap residue left over.
Frowning, what she was really offering slowly sank in. I needed to convince the base commander as I’d done Captain Brody. Cybele, as she’d amply demonstrated in the past, was a master at convincing people of things.
I glanced back over at Adrienne. She’d turned away to her console again, and her shoulders seemed hunched. I’d seen that look before—she was pissed.
Heaving a sigh, I nodded to Cybele. “You can come along. I need all the help I can get. This is more important than I’ve been letting on.”
Not even Hansen knew the truth. My theories concerning Turnbull and a massive plot against Star Force were just that—theories. A three day old robot had convinced me, but he might not be reliabl
e. As an assurance, I walked to Sakura’s compartment on the way to the main hatch.
“Sakura,” I said, tapping on her door until it opened.
“What is it, sir?”
I handed her a data chip. “Read this. Act on it if I’m arrested or killed. You’re one of the only people who might be able to stop it.”
She frowned at me then looked at the chip in wonderment. “Um…all right, sir.”
Striding away with Cybele in tow, I met up with Kwon next. He was in full kit and stood at the hatch, waiting.
“Really, Kwon?” I asked. “You think they’ll let me walk into the base commander’s office, technically under arrest, with a battle-suited marine at my side?”
“Better safe than sorry, boss,” he said.
“Yeah…well, thanks for the thought. But if they’ve decide to take me down, one more gun won’t help. My only hope is to convince them I’m right. Armament will only put them on their guard.”
Kwon gestured toward Cybele. “Why’s she going, then?”
I smiled. “Because these people need convincing.”
He caught on after a moment, and I heard his huffing laugh behind me as I walked off my ship and marched down the tube into the station.
“You convince those white-haired officers good, girl!” Kwon boomed.
Our marine escorts joined us at the station dock. They looked nervous. I was in my dress blues, and Cybele was in her bridge duty attire. We didn’t look dangerous, but they kept running their eyes over both of us anyway.
Then I realized something. Cybele was emitting pheromones. Nerves? No, the marines weren’t nervous. They were turned on. They probably didn’t know why, but they were definitely affected. My regular crew had grown somewhat accustomed to Elladans, and their power had waned during the trip. But for these boys, it must have been a shock.
Beauty, and a warm aura of invitation. Cybele was letting it all go, and she was enough to get any male’s blood pumping. Even I felt it, but I was too focused on the coming confrontation to be easily distracted.
By the time we reached the base commander’s office, my escorts needed a shower—a cold one.
The doors were real wood, not just smart metal taught to curl out of the way. That was a stylish addition. Real doors were considered cool, and all the top brass had them these days.
We were ushered inside, and the base commander stood to greet us. We saluted, but she didn’t return the gesture.
She. Damn. The commander was a woman. I knew her as Rear Admiral Chen, and I hadn’t cared about her gender until now. Half of Cybele’s firepower was about to be wasted.
“Ensign Cody Riggs,” Chen said. “Fresh from the Academy and a long holiday in uncharted space.”
“Excuse me, Admiral,” I said, “but it was hardly a holiday. Have you read my report?”
“I’ve skimmed it. On the whole, I find it incredible.”
I could tell she didn’t mean “incredible” as in “cool” or “amazing.” She meant she didn’t buy it.
“I have evidence to back up every word in the report: video, audio, written logs and after-action summaries—”
“I’m sure you do,” she said, “but we don’t have to get into all that now. Another guest is about to arrive. Please sit down.”
Confused, I did as she asked. Cybele sat awkwardly next to me.
“May I ask who—” I began.
Admiral Chen stood up again. She did so rapidly, as if a higher power were present.
“Please rise. Our guest has arrived.”
Cybele and I stood and turned around.
There, coming through those expensive doors, was none other than Grantham Turnbull himself. He grinned at me, and he nodded. When he looked at Cybele, however, he frowned.
“Who’s this?” he asked Chen.
“An attaché to Mr. Riggs, I gather.”
“I requested that—well, never mind. Riggs, let me shake your hand. This has all been a misunderstanding.”
He lifted a shiny hand. It looked as if he’d been sweating or maybe he’d just come from the lavatory and washed them.
Hoping for the best, I took a step forward and lifted my own hand.
But Cybele beat me to it. She reached out and clasped Turnbull’s offered hand with both of hers.
I had to give the girl credit for initiative. She was going to do her trick come hell or high water. I cocked my head, curious as to the effects.
Turnbull’s expression changed from one of affability to one of confusion. I could only surmise he was feeling the effects of Cybele’s embrace.
Could my troubles be over? In a single stroke? I dared to hope.
Then, everything took a very strange turn. Turnbull’s face transformed.
He went from confusion to anger, then to pain. His mouth sagged open—and it kept going. His lower jaw sagged down, down—to his chest, and lower still.
Admiral Chen let out a gasp. She came around from behind the desk, reaching for her sidearm.
My hand lashed out and gripped her wrist. She was nanotized like any active duty Star Force officer, but she couldn’t resist my strength. Her gun stayed in her holster despite the fact she used both hands and all her might to draw it.
I turned back to see how Cybele and Turnbull were getting along.
It wasn’t pretty. They were both melting. Returning to the shape they’d originally had before they’d sought to fool humans.
Turnbull’s lower face was sliding off his belly, merging with it. And that belly—it was rippling and convulsing as if he was about to lay an egg.
Cybele had lost some of her luster, too. Her hands had merged up with Turnbull’s. Instead of fingers, both of them had something that looked like intertwined snail-tails. They ran with glistening slime.
“What’s she doing to him?” Chen demanded.
“If I don’t miss my guess, they’re doing it to each other, Admiral,” I said. “These people are not human. They’re aliens, and they call themselves Elladans.”
“What are they?”
“Watch as their legs fold up and dissolve. They’re losing their rigid form. As best I can tell, they look like blobs—giant amoeba—in their natural state.”
“Why did you bring this thing to my office?”
“Let me remind you, please, that I only brought one of them. You brought the other.”
She relaxed her hand as the two Elladans, locked in some kind of mortal struggle, slipped into fleshy mounds on the floor. Their clothes had been shed, and they were bubbling.
“What the hell are they doing?” Chen asked in fascination.
“Either fighting or mating, I’d wager,” I said. “It’s kind of hard to tell which.”
“Get them apart. Restrain them. Guards!”
The marines came tramping in, and I quietly let go of her wrist. I was glad she hadn’t called them earlier. They had their laser rifles unslung and at the ready. I could tell they meant business.
“Which one is which?” she asked me, bending over the two struggling forms.
“The one with the service hat falling off…that’s my crewman. Her name is Cybele, remember?”
Chen looked at me then. “I think I’d better read your report after all, Ensign.”
I smiled. “I think that would be for the best, Admiral.”
-40-
The thing known for years as Turnbull was eventually extricated from Cybele. The two of them had been fighting, it turned out. I’d never seen Elladans physically fight—and I hoped I’d never see it again.
Cybele had spotted another of her kind immediately, while the imposter had failed to do the same. Probably he’d been slow to do so because he thought he was the only member of his species on our planet.
Later, Cybele, Adrienne and I sat around a small table in a pub on the space station. At first, Adrienne had refused to accept the news of her father’s death, but it had eventually sunk in.
She was drinking now, fairly heavily. I joined her at a more controlled rate.
“It’s insane,” Adrienne said for the tenth time. “My father’s been dead and gone—for how long?”
“Probably a decade,” Cybele said. “I’m so sorry, Adrienne.”
My girl looked at Cybele with bleary, angry eyes. “Your kind killed my father.”
“Yes, the agent probably did. But I didn’t send him out. Many Elladans died back on our homeworld. Millions, in fact, and we don’t blame you.”
Adrienne was struggling with the truth. I couldn’t blame her. She turned on me next.
“You slept with this thing,” she said, jabbing a finger toward Cybele, “this killer alien. I don’t think I can ever make love to you again.”
I winced, but I played it straight. “That’s up to you. I hope to have a future together. But no one has to decide any of this now. We all need to heal and to think clearly again.”
Adrienne swiveled her head back toward Cybele, who drew back a bit. She waggled her finger at the Elladan.
“You should show yourself. You should look like a bag of snot. See how many dates you get then, bitch!”
I reached out and pushed down Adrienne’s hand. “She doesn’t mean it,” I told Cybele.
“Yes, I do!”
After about twenty more minutes, the anger shifted into despondency and tears.
“I can’t believe that bag of protoplasm taught me how to drive!” she cried. “I’m sickened. Was he influencing me all that time? Molding me for a purpose?”
“Maybe,” I said, “we’ll never know.”
That was a lie, of course. It all seemed obvious to me in hindsight. The agent wanted to rule Earth, and every ruler needs competent-looking heirs. He probably planned to kill Adrienne and her sister eventually, replacing them with offspring of his own.
Looking back, I could well imagine why both the girls had graduated with perfect attendance and been enrolled in the best of schools. To my knowledge, neither had ever gotten less than an A in any course. With a mind-warping father heading the family, the achievements seemed less incredible.