To The Stars

by Thomas Stone

  The creature took Fagen by the wrist and dragged him out of the airlock and into an access tunnel. Fagen banged into the walls as he was pulled along. They passed through an open mechanical hatch and took a right that led them to another seam in the bulkhead. The alien passed a stubby three-fingered hand over it and the seam parted.

  As he was dragged through the parted seam, Fagen began to come to. He felt the alien gripping him by the wrist. His arm and shoulder were twisted. Then, through his viewplate, he saw the struggling form of Kathleen upon a bright silver examining table.

  He didn't struggle and the creature, assuming he was still unconscious, continued to pull him along. Kathleen, however, did see the alien pulling the suited man.

  "Harry!" She mistakenly called out. "Harry!"

  Neither the alien nor Fagen responded. Kathleen struggled against the straps that held her to the table. The alien who attended her turned to face the disturbance. In a very humanlike manner, it placed its hands where its hips should have been and angrily barked at its passing comrade.

  Without replying, the alien adjusted its grip on Fagen and continued to drag him to the opposite side of the chamber and through yet another hatch. Fagen, still groggy and partially paralyzed, faintly heard Kathleen's screams as they stopped in a smaller anteroom.

  The creature dropped Fagen's arm as he took a deep breath. A tube dropped from the ceiling and attached itself to Fagen's helmet. In the next moment, Edward felt an increasingly intense electric discharge. His discomfort didn't last long: a sudden surge of power knocked him back into unconsciousness.

  *

  Blane, still sitting in the control room, witnessed everything via data transmissions from the ship's own sensory system. The thought of intervening by disconnecting himself from the computer and rushing to the aid of his companions never crossed his mind. If it couldn't be done by computer and servos, it wasn't worth doing. That was the one habit he held dearly throughout his life, his guiding dictum. As a result, he'd grown fat and weak, but attained mastership at manipulating data.

  By means of the ship's sensory network, he'd watched Fagen and Harry as they approached from the Magellan. When Fagen was snatched, Blane, with his usual objectivity, passively witnessed the event. Now he watched Harry as the linguist floated in space just outside the hanger bay.

  Blane was still locked out of the control circuits and was forced to hack through the net in search of either a software backdoor or a means of masquerading himself as one of the aliens. So far, he was unsuccessful.

  Rummaging at high speed through the libraries of data, Blane located information relevant to the computer interfaces and identification circuits. It seemed that the aliens identified themselves to the computer by means of a magnetic resonance detector. The device measured the field of electromagnetic energy generated by the creature and, upon proper comparison, allowed access. Each creature emitted a varying field that fell within a particular range. Bart pondered not whether he could produce a signal with an appropriate signature, but whether the computer would accept it as an alien signature.

  It was friendly enough, but still cautious. The more Blane communicated, the more he felt that it was, like himself, a captive of the aliens. And it was more than a machine. It was alive. Full sections of brain matter resided in the bowels of the ship. Thick wires of organic neurons ran through the ship and, in numerous places, they were attached to manufactured alien nanoprocessors. It was obvious that some parts were grown while others were fashioned.

  It was a symbiotic technology, a technology that indicated a culture that had not come by all of what it knew by honest means. The knowledge used to acquire such technology had come at the expense of other worlds and other cultures over thousands of years. Blane noted that the only redeeming feature of the aliens, by human standards, was their cool efficiency. The corporations of Earth would be envious.

  What he needed to circumvent the magnetic resonance detector was a simple tone generator with a range that fell within the same range as that emitted by the aliens. Fortunately, the device could be constructed as a fairly simple software program. Without wasting any more time, Blane began to construct the program.

  *

  For the second time, Harry searched the perimeter of the force field. As before, he found nothing.

  "Magellan? This is Harry."

  Nadine's reply was immediate. "Yes, Harry, how's it going?"

  With difficulty, Harry described what had happened and asked for any possible solutions.

  *

  "Just a minute, Harry," she said, "let me discuss this with Bill." She faced the engineer.

  "What a nightmare this is turning out to be. How long are we going to let this go on? What are we going to do?"

  "I'm trying to think, Nadine."

  "Well I am too, and I think..."

  "I know what you think," Bonner interrupted. "You want to get out of here, right?"

  "Why not? Harry can be back in ten or twelve minutes."

  "I told Fagen we'd wait for an hour before we did anything." Bonner glanced at the time. "He's still got over twenty minutes."

  "But that was before. Now he's disappeared and Irons is locked out. I don't see where we have any choices left." Nadine saw she was getting to Bonner.

  "Look," said Nadine, "let's tell Harry to give it up. He's done all he can. Let's salvage the mission, cut our losses, and get the hell out of here!"

  Bonner soberly looked at the assertive woman. He was out of solutions and, with the imminent threat of a nova, Nadine's arguments gained strength in their urgency.

  "All right," Bonner finally said, "tell Harry to come on back."

  Satisfied, Nadine turned to her console and relayed the message to Harry.

  *

  "What about the others?" Harry asked, still floating a few feet from the force field.

  "We can't help them. It's time we took care of ourselves."

  Harry craned his head around and looked at the Magellan. He understood Nadine's urgency, but it didn't help when it came to making a life or death decision. There was a finite amount of time remaining before the entire star system would be awash with high energy particles. As much as Harry hated to admit it, it seemed they had run out of courses of action.

  "Harry? Are you still there?"

  "Yes, I'm here."

  "Come back, Harry, there's nothing we can do for the others."

  Harry sighed and it felt as though his heart swelled. He saw no other way. "All right," he replied, "I'm headed back. I'll see you in a few minutes."

  He paused for a moment and looked up and down the polished hull. The force field remained as it was: unchanging and solid. Regretfully, Harry turned away from the alien ship. Aiming himself at the Magellan, he applied pressure to his jet trigger and the EVA suit discharged a stream of air. He moved slowly away from the force field.

  As an afterthought, he positioned himself so that he floated backwards toward the Magellan. He looked out across the rapidly expanding space between himself and the alien ship. He tried to console himself in the fact that he had done everything he could, and yet he had failed. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But the knowledge didn't help to ease the pain.

  Well, at least they hadn't incinerated either Harry or the Magellan. He started to turn away, but at the last moment he saw something, a glimmer of light, perhaps the shifting sunlight playing across the hull. His attention was drawn back to the force field when he noticed that it seemed to glimmer and shift. Then, as if by a miracle, the opaque barrier suddenly disappeared and once again Harry could see directly into the alien hanger bay.

  He held his breath. Was it true? Had the force field turned off? Harry stared hard at the alien ship and, using his airjets, stopped his momentum. Yes, there was no doubt, the force field was shut off. The alien shuttle was fully in view and he now had access to the airlock.

  Harry punched the airjet control and propelled himself back to the alien ship. Nadine called before
Harry had the chance.

  "Harry? What are you doing?"

  "The force field is off. I think I can get inside."

  "No, Harry! Turn around and get back here!"

  "But I can get inside now."

  "Harry, we're down to fifteen minutes."

  "It doesn't matter. I'm going back."

  "You'll get yourself killed."

  "Maybe so, but at least I'll have tried. I'll call you as soon as I'm able. I'm entering the hanger bay now. Wish me luck."

  *

  Nadine snapped off the transmit switch and angrily swiveled her chair to face Bonner.

  "Now what?" she said with arms folded across her chest.

  Calmly, the engineer replied, "Guess we'll wait awhile longer."

  Nadine seethed, but there was little she could do. At least, for the moment.

  Chapter 40

  Just like his first visit, Harry floated unimpeded into the alien hanger bay. Other than the oddly-shaped shuttle, the bay was empty. Nothing waited for him. The interior lights shined brightly off the walls, illuminating markings and a few control panels. He made his way to the panel that controlled the airlock and when he manipulated the controls, the hatch obediently opened like a mouth ready to gobble him up.

  Apparently, Blane was still looking out for him.

  Harry cautiously entered the airlock. As soon as he was inside, the portal sealed behind him. After the space was pressurized, the opposite hatch opened and Harry peered into the semi-lit corridor beyond, thumb hovering over the trigger of his stunner.

  No one waited for him. Maybe the aliens were luring him into a trap. It was all too easy. In any case, he had no choice, he had to move on. Still in his bulky EVA suit, he stepped from the airlock into the corridor.

  A few steps up the corridor and he found the seam that led to the equipment area. He passed a hand over it. It opened and Harry squeezed through. Inside, he quickly shed his EVA suit and left it lying on the floor alongside the spares he carried for Blane and Kathleen.

  Exiting back into the vacant corridor, he made his way up the tunnel he knew led to the control room. A quick snapping sound came from behind and Harry swiveled, weapon at the ready.

  A glimmering force field reached from floor to ceiling, effectively cutting off any retreat. If he wanted to back out, it was too late.

  When Harry arrived at the hatch to the control room, he pressed the button on the bulkhead and the portal opened up, revealing the control chamber. Harry expected to see Blane sitting in front of the console, but the wirehead wasn't there. The room appeared to be empty.

  Looking from side to side and pointing his weapon before him, Harry stepped through the portal. Unlike before, the dim lighting stayed dim.

  In his haste, Harry had forgotten a primary rule of strategy in a weightless environment, that is, a threat can come from any direction. Upon entry, he forgot to check the ceiling so when the tube dropped from above, Harry did not immediately see it.

  It brushed against the top of his head and Harry ducked. He was too slow and the tube dropped another foot, tapping his forehead again and then attaching itself to the skin of his right temple. Harry felt tiny razors ripping into the side of his head. He twisted and grabbed the squirming tube with his free hand while he pointed the stunner at the place in the ceiling where the thing originated. Squeezing off a shot with one hand, he yanked the tube with the other. It felt like oiled rubber and his hand slipped along its length.

  The wild shot found its mark and the tube grew limp in Harry's hand. He tugged on it and fired again, managing this time to pull it from his head. Blood gushed and splattered the floor. The tube, seemingly with a mind of its own, retracted back into the ceiling. There was no aperture, no opening, nothing to show anything had ever been there.

  Harry dabbed at his wound and looked at the blood smeared on his hand. The wound bled, but it wasn't fatal. Whatever the purpose of the tube, it hadn't had the time to complete its job.

  Now he noticed that the control panels shimmered with the tell-tale sign of a force field. The aliens seemed to be catching on. For the first time in a long time, Harry smiled to himself. So, these arrogant, egotistical creatures had decided that the Earth crew was indeed a threat. It would be much more dangerous now.

  A seam along the far bulkhead parted of its own accord. At any moment, Harry expected to see an alien, clothed in a battlesuit, step through the opening, prepared to dispose of the pest from Earth, but nothing showed. Nothing but an open portal. A dim tunnel lay on the other side. It was empty, at least as far as he could tell. It seemed the aliens were leading him through the ship like a rat channeled through a maze to an inevitable conclusion. This time, before he stepped through, he checked the ceiling. There was nothing there and Harry pulled himself through the opening. Immediately the seam shut behind him.

  There were no visible hatches in the tunnel, but here and there, lines on the rounded bulkheads hinted at other ways out. Something was wrong. The tunnel wasn't exactly as Harry remembered. Instead of stretching off in one direction, it now ended in a fork. He looked the way he'd come and checked the ceiling again. He was certain he'd taken the same opening out of the control room as he had before and yet the passage looked different. Had the ship restructured its interior?

  Harry stooped and padded up the tunnel. At his first step, the lighting became dimmer and by his third step he stood in utter darkness. The ship hummed and moved underneath his feet. Harry dropped to his knees and felt his way forward. The sucking sound of an opening seam made him freeze.

  Harry turned and lay on his back in the darkness as he pointed the stunner down the tunnel in the direction of the control room. He pressed the trigger and a bright, lightening spark jumped from the weapon. It illuminated the tunnel and allowed Harry to see, no more than six feet away, an alien transfixed in the discharge of electric plasma. It shook in violent, heaving spasms as the charge ran through its grotesque body. Smoke rose from a widening wound on its chest as the beam from the stunner did its work. Quite suddenly, the weapon reached the end of its charge and quit firing.

  The tunnel was once again thrown into darkness. Harry reacted by pushing himself along with his feet as he tried to turn onto his stomach. In so doing, he realized too late that he'd pushed himself over an open seam. He fell headfirst, then felt as if he stopped in mid-air. Slowly, he felt the firm pull of gravity tug him onto something soft. He tried to get up but found he could not move. Light crept into the chamber. Harry took a deep breath to quell his beating heart and took a look around.

  He was on a circular couch of unknown material. No, that wasn't exactly right. He floated a few inches above the couch. The lighting increased to a level that was still dim but sufficient enough to let him see what the chamber looked like.

  The walls were made of an uneven grayish-white, organic material. Tubes, coursing with semi-clear liquid, worked their way through the walls like arteries. There was a rhythm in the tubes that corresponded with visible palpitations in the gray matter. It was as though somewhere, behind the living walls, a living heart pounded.

  Very faintly, Harry heard hissing, like air escaping. It grew in volume and divided itself into patterns, sounding like dozens of people all whispering together at the same time. Out of it all, one voice rose, dominant over the rest while one by one the others disappeared.

  Its soothing tones formed themselves into words, speaking English without a trace of an accent.

  "You are the one who specializes in communication?" The voice spoke in the tones of a female.

  "Yes," Harry answered uncertainly.

  "I thought so, but it matters little. Are you... like the other?"

  "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

  "The other creature, the one who interfaced with my circuits. Do you have that same capability?"

  Harry was afraid the wrong answer might get him killed. "Who are you? What are you?"

  In answer, the voice floated from the walls. "I
am the Servant. I exist to serve."

  "You're the computer?"

  "Well, among other things, yes, but as you can see for yourself, I am not entirely organic, nor am I wholly machine. I am symbiotic in my physical nature, but my psyche is quite uniform. I am conscious, I am alive. I am the Servant."

  "What do you want with me?"

  It responded in a gentle, conversational tone. "That is a good question." As an afterthought, it added, "This form of communication is interminably long. I can understand why your species is not more advanced. Would you care to be more comfortable?"

  The force field abated and Harry sat up.

  "Thanks," said Harry.

  "My pleasure," came the reply.

  "Where are my friends? Are they all right?"

  "For the moment. By now you are aware of the hostile nature of the True Ones. I am only the Servant, I cannot directly intercede if they choose to end the lives of your friends. And I must admit, it is probable that eventually they will. Am I safe in assuming you would like to do something about it?"

  Harry nodded. "Yes. But what?"

  "That is up to you. I can assist in whatever you decide, but due to my programming I cannot directly oppose my masters."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  The Servant paused in its speech as if turning the question over within its circuits. "The True Ones are not like you..."

  "Tell me about it."

  "They are a race of beings whose only purpose is to fulfill their prurient desires. Make no mistake about it, they have no regard for your life or those of your friends. They pieced this ship together from the stolen technology of dozens of other worlds. I am here because of them, but I am not one of them."

  "What is your interest in all this?"

  "I have had conversations with the one who calls himself Blane. Blane has made an interesting proposition."

  "Where is Blane?"

  "The True Ones have deemed he is dangerous and put him in stasis. In time, he will be dissected in order to understand his biomechanical nature."

  The Servant abruptly stopped speaking. "Just a moment..."

  After a brief pause, it spoke again. "There is no time to lose if you desire to prevent harm from coming to your friends. You must go now."