Berserker Prime

by Fred Saberhagen

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Admiral Radigast, sitting on the edge of a combat couch, was visible against a background of what looked like the control room of his flagship. The commander of all Twin Worlds forces in space squinted at the two civilians and seemed notably relieved when he was able to recognize Gregor. His image shot one glance at Luon, then ignored her.

  Gregor got a quick impression of compact energy. The admiral’s uniform, with its single row of important decorations, was correctly cut and fastened, yet somehow the man still managed to look rumpled. He was chewing on something, doubtless one of the pods currently in vogue, his mouth twisted a little to one side.

  Several different kinds of chewing pods were popular, especially among those who liked to see themselves as the trendsetters of interstellar society. but those were not the people with whom high-ranking diplomats spent most of their waking hours. Whatever type of chew the admiral had favored, it got spat out energetically. Speaking unencumbered, the admiral issued a warm and quietly eager invitation to the plenipotentiary to come aboard his flagship.

  “Delighted to see you up in space, sir. Your ship will be docking on the Morholt in just about one minute. I’ll be along to welcome you personally as soon as I can get there.”

  “That will be fine, Admiral.” Gregor paused uncertainly. “There’s one detail I must bring to your attention. Through a series of curious events, all of them unplanned on my part I assure you, I happen to have my granddaughter traveling with me, a young lady of eighteen. If you could possibly make some provision for her, while you and I have our talk…?”

  “I only wish all problems were as readily solved, sir. Don’t give it a moment’s thought.” The admiral sounded briskly cheerful, but his mind was obviously on something else. Gregor had already decided this courteous but forceful summons must have something to do with the recent disturbing developments at the apex of the civilian government.

  The admiral’s image was gone. Gregor found a switch and the small stage went dark and bare. Luon was still staring at it, thoughtfully. “I wonder what he wants from you, Gramp.”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  Presently the pilot informed them that the flagship was now visible, if they wanted to look out their window.

  Luon had got out of her seat and was pressing her cheek to the inner surface of a cleared statglass port, looking out at every angle she could manage. “I can’t see anything,” she complained. “Only the sun and stars. Oh, wait, there’s a ship. But I only see one.”

  Gregor, in the adjoining seat, was trying to relax. It seemed his day was going to be even longer and more wearying than he had expected. “There’s no way you could expect to see more than one ship. Chances are they’re all thousands of kilometers apart.”

  Gregor hazily remembered the dreadnought’s specifications, from the days when he had been fairly closely involved with the military. The Morholt was very nearly an even ten kilometers long, its overall shape that of a lean cylinder, all armor and power and caged-up deadly force. A more recent memory nagged Gregor with a comparison: this ship, impressive as it was, would be only about one fifth the length of the mysterious intruder, and a much smaller fraction of its bulk.

  Now he too could see part of the Morholt through the port. The surface of Radigast’s flagship flashed faintly silver in some places, and there were large stretches of surface that were hardly visible at all. These somewhat resembled parts of the intruder as System Defense had pictured it, appearing as patches of dark void against the endless starry background. The view of the Milky Way enjoyed by Twin Worlds citizens was not enormously different from the prospect visible to the people of Earth.

  Luon was no stranger to the view of stars from space, but she had never been close to a ship of this kind and size before, and was clearly impressed. But she gave no impression of having been relieved of her chronic worry.

  In another moment, the dreadnought had opened a set of jaw-like doors, and swallowed up the tiny scoutship like a gnat. There followed a smooth docking inside a great hangar bay. Less than a minute after that, the scout’s pair of civilian passengers were disembarking through mated airlocks.

  How many decks on the great ship? Gregor was trying to remember. In a thousand meters of available thickness, there might easily be more than a hundred, at least for part of the ship’s length. How many crew members? That could vary enormously, depending on the mission assigned the ship. Given the universal dependence on computers, less than a thousand human brains might serve to crew the entire fleet of a hundred ships or more.

  Once before, it startled Gregor to think it must have been ten standard years ago, the plenipotentiary had been aboard a late model ship as big as this one, but that had been in a time of peace and ceremony.

  More details about the ship came back to him as he saw more of it again. He was able to answer a couple of questions for Luon.

  As they followed their spaceman escort along a twisting corridor, through set after set of doors, and past one occupied compartment after another, Luon said: “But all these people are used to the idea of war.”

  “Well. Not really, Luon. Of course the crew are accustomed to the ship, to working all the devices. I’ll wager they’re very good at that. But no one on her crew has any more experience of combat than you do.”

  His grandchild made no reply. Gregor had already formed the distinct impression that she was no fan of the military, but here, for once, she was awed into silence.

  Most of the crew members that the pair saw in their passage were wearing helmets that kept them in close optelectronic contact with the thinking machines that handled the routine details of micromanagement. The flagship, and, Gregor presumed, the whole fleet, was at a medium stage of alert, which meant that dress uniforms were nowhere to be seen, and ceremony was kept to a minimum. People murmured and stepped aside for the eminent plenipotentiary, one or two of them saluting awkwardly. Gregor couldn’t remember if he, as a civilian, should be returning these salutes or not, so each time he compromised, responding with a small gesture. Had he been on the ground, there might have been a robot on hand to offer discreet counsel on matters of protocol. But the only robots on a warship would be carrying quite different matters in their data bank, she seriously doubted there were any anthropomorphic servants.

  In another minute, the visitors had reached the flagship’s bridge, where Admiral Radigast rose from his combat couch to welcome them. Here on the bridge the entire fleet at last became visible, if only on holostage, where it made an impressive sight to Gregor’s experienced eye.

  Radigast was putting out a hand for him to clasp. “Glad to see you, sir. Very glad.” In a moment, Gregor was being introduced to a few senior members of the admiral’s staff, as well as the Morholt’s captain.

  The admiral had a habit of squinting through narrowed eyes that suggested, erroneously, no doubt, defective vision. His manner and behavior were correct in all details, and even his uniform looked as immaculate in direct view as it had on stage, Gregor had heard rumors of legendary personal sloppiness. Still, Radigast somehow gave the impression of not spending much time on such details.

  The flurry of introductions over, he went immediately to the next point. “How long can you remain on board, sir?”

  Gregor explained briefly about the peace conference, though he thought the explanation was probably unnecessary. “But I’m determined to find out what’s happening here in our system before I go.”

  “I’m with you in that, Mister Plenipotentiary. I would also like to gather some kind of clue as to what’s going on. But I fear that’s going to take a little time.”

  Only now did the admiral get around to greeting Luon, in a pleasantly absentminded way. Then he crisply issued orders for two adjoining cabins, in what he called VIP country, to be made available.

  Gregor entered a mild protest. “I expect we’re only going to be on board for a short time.”

  “Of course, sir. But the young lady might
want a place to, how do they put it? freshen up.”

  “Of course. Thank you. But we don’t want to put any of your people out of their quarters, I’m assuming that room is at something of a premium.”

  The squint turned into half a smile. “Not as premium as you might think, sir. They built this ship to serve diplomatic functions when necessary, and that sometimes means entertaining visitors.

  Would you care to step into my quarters for a moment? We can both sit down and relax.”

  Again, a young male officer, this one was of higher rank, was detailed to look after Luon for a while. Here on a battleship, in contrast to the scout, there was a lot to see.

  “Give her Tour Number One,” the admiral tersely recommended.

  “Yes sir.”

  As the pair moved away, Gregor heard the young man asking what parts of the ship might she truly be interested in? And Luon’s answer, a peaceful murmur. Not even looking back; she was trying to keep grandfather happy, by keeping herself out of his way.

  A few moments later, as soon as the door closed on the two men alone in a small but comfortable cabin, Radigast added: “Frankly, it’s a relief to have someone in authority that I can talk to, and who can’t turn me off with the flick of a switch. Are you in the mood for a drink, sir? Or chew?”

  “Neither just now, thank you. Admiral, I hope you don’t credit me with more authority than I really have. I can see that this strange intruder presents a special problem for defense, especially if it won’t communicate. By the way, thank you for the thorough briefing on the subject. The general was most enlightening.”

  The fleet commander acknowledged the thanks with a nod. “Wanted to make sure you understand just where we are.” The latest chewing pod, whatever flavor it had been, was ejected in decisive fashion. A squirrel-sized housekeeping machine was on the spot to clean it up, almost before it landed.

  Radigast took a seat in a large chair, gesturing Gregor to another that looked just as comfortable. The admiral seemed to be relaxing into a more natural mode. The removal of a minor strain was evident.

  But something major still remained. “The intruder, as you aptly call it, does not represent my only motherless communication problem. It’s not even my prime, original reason for wanting to talk to you, Plenipotentiary Gregor.” The admiral drew a deep breath. “Sir, you and I have never met before, but I’ve kind of followed your record, and I think maybe you’re someone I can talk to. Do you have any idea what’s happened to His Nibs our president?”

  Gregor was only faintly surprised by the blunt question. Yes, it was time, and past time, to be direct. He allowed himself to sigh. “I have been trying to reach him for almost three days now, without success.”

  Radigast nodded slowly. He did not seem as surprised as Gregor thought he should have been. “What about the vice president?”

  “She’s on Prairie, Admiral, as you doubtless know. She’s not been returning my messages either, but so far I haven’t made them urgent. In her case the seeming reluctance to communicate is more easily explained. She’s up to her eyebrows in a high-level conference, strategic planning.”

  Radigast did not seem at all reassured. He grunted, and popped another chewing pod into his mouth, this time forgetting to offer one to his guest. “I know. The Joint Chiefs are there too.” There was a slight pause before he admitted: “I don’t always get on superbly well with them.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Gregor spoke carefully. “Admiral, it won’t do to have a rumor spread to the effect that the president of Twin Worlds is missing, or that he’s deliberately chosen to isolate himself in such a way that the other components of his government can hardly reach him.”

  “Especially if the motherless rumor is true.” The admiral grunted again, and nodded. “If that kind of crap hasn’t started yet, believe me, it soon will. I’ve tried to reach him directly, and got the same treatment you did. Can you think of any good excuse for the way he’s acting?”

  Gregor responded only with a silent headshake. It was understandable that a president might not have much to say at any given moment, or might want time to be alone, to think. But there was no excuse for dropping totally out of contact. As long as the fleet was deployed in the inner system, it would never be more than a few minutes away from its civilian commander-in-chief, at the speed of light or radio.

  Radigast had evidently determined to speak his mind to someone, whatever the consequence might be.

  “Sir, understand me. I’m not talking parties and politics here. I’ve got no motherless interest in politics. As part of the military I shouldn’t have, and I don’t. But he … Belgola’s got his bloody head so deep in the motherless sand that his own top people don’t even know where he is.”

  After a short pause, in which Gregor tried to frame objections, he found himself agreeing. “I can’t argue with that.”

  “Do you know him well, sir? Do you consider yourself his friend? I mean apart from the political thing, both of you being in the same party.”

  “I…” Gregor had to stop and shake his head. “As friends, he and I go back a long way, as you must know. I once thought I knew him well.”

  “Well, between you and me, it wouldn’t necessarily be any enormous motherless loss if he resigned his office and disappeared for good.” The admiral paused, listening to himself. “Understand me, I’m not trying to overthrow the government. We still have elections to accomplish that. I’d just like to find out where the hell my government is. And by that I mean my bloody so-called commander in chief.”

  But the admiral, even risking a court martial for insubordination, was not going to be allowed to concentrate on the seemingly disconnected status of the president. Not even for a few minutes. The communicator in his cabin broke in with urgent sounds, unintelligible to the visitor.

  Radigast swore. “Excuse me.” He turned his head aside. “What now, Charlie?”

  Gregor, sitting at hardly more than arm’s length distance, could hear nothing at all. Whatever the news, it did not seem to be good.

  The cabin’s small stage suddenly lit up. It seemed that the admiral had been away from his regular duties long enough. Images of the intruding stranger appeared.

  All the watching humans saw the same thing on their holostages, and what they saw was hard to believe or understand.

  The images brought back by the robotic probes were of an unidentified and seemingly unidentifiable object. The mysterious intruder was huge, looking like a whole continent of metal, spotted and striped with other more exotic materials. In overall shape, a thick and broad rectangular slab. One of its fifty-kilometer-long sides, Gregor kept reminding himself it was five times the length of the Morholt, was spread out below the spy unit like a map. The surface bristled with projections, some of which were not immediately identifiable, but could be reasonably assumed to be weapons. Parts of the gigantic hull were twisted and gnarled, as if it had already been through a war.

  The admiral exchanged terse comments with people elsewhere on the ship. Presently he got to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to the bridge, sir. Want to come along?” The offer seemed more than a mere form of courtesy.

  “I’m honored,” the old man responded simply.

  Back on the bridge, Gregor felt a chill as he listened to comments from other officers, people you might think would not be easily impressed. They were talking in awed, murmuring voices. “It’s not a ship, it’s a bloody artificial motherless planetoid.”

  “A lot of those details aren’t clear. Try and get some greater magnification.”

  “The image will inevitably be somewhat blurred, the thing’s enveloped in what we take to be a defensive forcefield, working on the same principle as ours, though it gives somewhat different readings than any type that we’re familiar with.”

  Everyone watched in silence for a time. Parts of the image quivered, shook, then straightened out a little. Computers were still working on the enhancement.

  Then Gregor the diplomat diffi
dently put in a comment. “Those huge serrations along one rim, to me they look like battlements, on some ancient fortified Earth city. Of course their real purpose must be something else. But that’s what they look like.”

  “It’s also much larger than any such city could ever have been….”

  In those places where colors could be plainly seen, the object was mostly black, an ebony reminding Gregor of certain anomalous regions of deep space that swallowed incoming light, and could not be made to reveal just how the energy had been digested. Portions of the surface were scarred, ragged flanges bent up and twisted, as if by some ancient slagging of an outer hull of enormous thickness.

  People who searched the images for any clue that might tie the thing to Huvea were completely disappointed. No symbols of any kind were visible, and that struck many searchers as odd indeed. None of the usual idiosyncrasies of Huvean construction techniques were in evidence.

  The admiral mused: “Looks like the proprietors wish to remain anonymous.”

  Gregor asked: “Has anyone yet made any attempt to communicate with it?”

  The others looked at the admiral. He said: “No one will, until I say so. But I’d say it’s getting to be time.”

  Charlie, Captain Charles, spacecraft commander of the flagship, kept insisting: “Admiral, I say this is some kind of a trick. A diversion.”

  “By the Huveans?”

  “Yes sir, of course! They’ve got to be behind it who else? They want us to concentrate our attention on this thing, move all our assets closer to it. Then as soon as we do that, their main fleet is going to appear on the other side of the sun. I’d say the first message that we send to it should indicate clearly that we are not being fooled.”