The Ship Who Saved the Worlds

by Anne McCaffrey

  "It was," Carialle said, vastly relieved. "I needed the shock. Thank you, TE." She made her frog image appear. It sketched a graceful half-bow and spread out its hands. The Frog Prince swept a self-deprecatory palm across.

  "It was nothing. I was worried."

  "I was going to pull the fire bell in a moment," Keff said. "We lost you there, lady."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I . . . I was back there again. I was counting. Maybe in a way that bastard is right."

  "He's not right!" Keff shouted. His normally cheerful face was a furious shade of red. Tall Eyebrow, hovering beside the brawn, shook his head vigorously. "If I could teleport in a blink to where he's laired up, I would find the nearest lavatory and stuff his grinning face down the head. Don't you worry. This is all a mistake. We'll show them the flight path and explain to them what happened. Let's tell Gavon the whole story. I'm sure all he knows is the gossip that's floating around, not the facts."

  "I'm not giving up my mission," Carialle said. "We have earned this. We've earned the trust of the locals. We shouldn't be removed from the mission. I want to see it through."

  "So do I. Let's send a message to Gavon and ask him to reconsider. He can keep us here as aides, and then we can go back to CW." Keff threw himself into his crash couch, and scooted it up to be right in front of the video pickup.

  Carialle calculated the location of the DSC-902, and put all she had behind the tightbeam message. All they could do until Gavon replied was wait.

  During the time that passed, a few of the Cridi who had been in the amphitheater when Keff had to leave drifted by to visit and make their compliments. A few of the councillors were sympathetic. Unexpectedly, Snap Fingers was one of them.

  "I am in business," he signed. "I came up from the merest clerk to my position now as second continental chief. I hate it that bureaucrats would take an assignment away from you. That should not happen. It shows a lack of confidence in you, which I wanted you to know was an error on the part of your superiors. If you were Cridi, I would be proud to have you working for me."

  "You are very kind," Carialle's amphibioid image said with its hands.

  "I mean what I say," Snap Fingers returned. "We are on opposite sides of the expansion question, but that does not mean we cannot be friends."

  "Good people," Tall Eyebrow said, as the councillor departed. "I am proud to know them."

  "You are one of them," Keff assured them.

  Narrow Leg arrived just as Carialle received Gavon's reply. Tall Eyebrow quickly brought him up to date in sign language while Keff and Carialle listened to the message.

  Captain Gavon's thin face looked more haggard, and his long jaw was set. "I have received your transmission. I regret that I have no 'slack' to cut you. Very, very sorry. This is not my idea. I have to follow my orders, too, you know. They are unequivocal and absolutely clear. I sent the messages on in advance so you could prepare."

  "Damn," Keff said, watching with chin propped on his fist. He saw the record light pop on, and sat up straight.

  "I am sorry, too," Carialle said, sending on a reply. "We did appreciate the extra notice, but it doesn't change the situation here. I don't want to put you on the spot, but you must see how this affects us."

  "And what about the psychological effect on the native population of replacing a trusted team with strangers?" Keff put in earnestly. "You must let us stay. We can be of inestimable help to you."

  Carialle sent the message, all the while muttering. "Rotoscoped, animated bastard from a bad, grade-D, psycho-horror flick—in 2-D! I don't mean Gavon," Carialle said quickly, in Keff's ear. "I mean the IG."

  "What is he?" Narrow Leg asked, listening with interest but no comprehension to Carialle's stream of invective. Tall Eyebrow attempted to translate, but gave up almost at once as the spare knowledge he had of Standard colloquialisms failed him. Carialle realized belatedly that she had left open the communication channels to the frogs' sign-language image, and swiftly blanked the wall.

  "The Inspector General has authority over our department, and he has a personal grudge against Carialle," Keff said, explaining more simply. "He is responsible for having us recalled, and the other team taking our place."

  "We have no choice," Carialle broke in. "We'll have to lift sooner or later."

  "Maybe I can slow down IT so we have to stay through the negotiations," Keff offered.

  Carialle's laugh was bitter. "Hah! IT doesn't need to be slowed down. The holes in it leak data like a screen door."

  "That's not fair, lady. IT's been doing a wonderful job here."

  She was instantly contrite. "I know. That's true. I'm upset."

  "You must not leave," Tall Eyebrow said, gesturing frantically, his black eyes wide. "We may never see you again. How will I and my companions return to Ozran?"

  "Gavon will take you," Carialle said. "We have no choice. We're off the mission."

  "Or I," Narrow Leg said. "My ship is all but ready to launch. I would be proud to escort you home. Besides," he added, with a shrewd and amused glance, "my daughter would not forgive me if I shortened your time together."

  Tall Eyebrow looked somewhat mollified and a little abashed.

  "But what about trade between my world and yours?" Narrow Leg asked Keff.

  "That won't be affected. Even greater authority for decision-making rests with Gavon. We're not really diplomats. Our usual job is exploration of unknown space. Normally we file the preliminary report on a potentially sentient race. We've never been the follow-up team before."

  "We prefer you," Narrow Leg said. "We understand one another, you two and I. A diplomat might not be such a seasoned risk-taker. We may not cooperate with this replacement. I can get the council snarled up for years to delay." The high-pitched voice described a geometric progression.

  "Don't. Gavon's a good man," Carialle said. She was pleased by the Cridi's offer to side with them, but disliked the idea of fighting her battles unfairly. "Don't blame him for this. Let's see what he says about letting us stay on to help."

  Two hours passed. Keff received more visitors from the conclave, and later served a synthesized meal to the Ozranian delegates, Narrow Leg, and Big Eyes, who turned up again in the late evening to sit with Tall Eyebrow. As he ate, Keff kept his eye on the chronometer, impatiently willing a message to come, to beat the next turn of the number.

  "Where is it?" he asked. "Gavon's reply should be on a shorter return loop as the ship nears us. The interval ought to have been no more than half an hour by this time. Isn't he speaking to us?"

  "Perhaps Simeon's data is incomplete, and there is a dangerous anomaly in-system," Carialle said, her voice remote from the ceiling speakers. "I'm resending."

  Nothing came. Keff cleaned up after dinner, and listlessly did his exercises on the Rotoflex with an interested audience of Cridi commenting on the swell and slide of his muscles.

  Carialle found the rhythmic clang! bump! of the weighted pulleys a soothing, mindless pattern, then all at once it irritated her. She opened input to all her antennae.

  She strained her "ears" for transmissions on the CW ship's frequency, putting the audio of her receivers onto speaker for the others to hear. Keff stopped his deltoid flex and eased the pulleys to a resting position. He looked up hopefully at the sound of static.

  "Nothing," Carialle said. "Perhaps Gavon is coming all the way in without speaking to us again."

  "Nasty," Keff said. He reached for a towel and wiped his face. "I thought this would be amicable. Maybe I won't give him all my files. Let him figure out the subtleties between this and this." He made a couple of signs that Carialle, searching the IT database, found to be the symbols for hunger and a mild obscenity regarding mouths and filth. Long Hand looked shocked, Small Spot abashed. Tall Eyebrow and the two Cridi natives grinned widely.

  "Wait!" Carialle exclaimed, getting a tickle from her long-distance receiver. "Here's something at last!"

  The data-thread was weak and badly garbled. Carialle boosted
it, and checked the frequency. It was the same Gavon had been sending on, but the audio portion was mostly static.

  " . . . day . . . Intruders . . . May—"

  Keff sat up. "Carialle, that sounds bad. Isn't there any more?"

  "No."

  "Play it again."

  Now Carialle strained out a few more of the harmonics and static, and boosted the gain. The message welled up out of the speaker, then faded away again. " . . . ayDAY. INTRUDERS! MAYday . . . ip . . . ." There was no more.

  "Something's happened to them," she said. "In the sidebands I'm hearing the ID pulse from their black box, but no ship noise in the low registers, and no more audio messages."

  "Intruders!" Keff exclaimed. "They were attacked! How many? Who? Who was it?"

  He looked at the Cridi, who shook their heads, signing nervously between one another.

  "We've got to help Gavon," Keff said. He shouldered back into his tunic, immediately all business. "Our fellow ship is in trouble. They might need life support assistance." He dared not think of the worst reason the DSC-902 had stopped sending, but concentrated on the possibility of saving the crew.

  "I'm starting launch prep now," Carialle snapped out. She activated the control board, and quickly counted green lights. "Tall Eyebrow, Narrow Leg, you'll all have to go. Big Eyes, will you please tell Space Command we request permission to lift. We have an emergency on our hands."

  "I will," the young councillor signed, then became still as she squeaked out vocal information through her finger-control transmitters. Carialle heard her voice repeated on first one, then a dozen personal frequencies as the message went out to the command center and members of the conclave via the Core of Cridi.

  "I will come with you," Tall Eyebrow said, turning to look from Keff to Carialle's frog image.

  Keff shook his head. "Stay here. We could get caught by whatever happened to them, too," he said. "I won't risk you getting hurt. We'll come back as soon as we can."

  "I will go now," the Frog Prince insisted. "You may need me." He turned to sign at the local Cridi.

  "How long?" Narrow Leg asked Keff. "How long until you go?"

  Keff glanced at the board. "Minutes."

  "Wait. Give me ten." The old Cridi levitated and flew out of the airlock. He began his high-pitched warbling, too. Big Eyes glanced up, surprised, then followed her father.

  They were back within the promised ten minutes, but not alone. Behind them sailed a large crew of Cridi workers, bearing with them tools and a round device the size of a medicine ball, and an impressive tangle of flex, tubes, boxes, and clamps.

  Keff peered at it. "It's a ship's Core. But we can't use it, sir." He waggled his fingers loosely.

  "I can," Tall Eyebrow said, holding up his hand, on which the new finger-stalls gleamed. "Let me help. You have done so much for me and my people. You may need more than you have."

  "Let him come," Carialle said, interrupting her preparations. "Our tractors may not be equal to what we might find out there—and we're unarmed."

  Keff's face blanked with shock. "Your salvagers? You think that's who's out there?"

  "It's a possibility. There've been several other 'disappearances.' No space anomalies, Simeon said," Carialle pointed out. "We're in this sector. I feel there's a connection to my personal disaster. It's just a guess, Keff. I have no positive data. I couldn't sell it as a certainty."

  "I trust your guesses more than other people's certainty," Keff said. "I've known you these sixteen years."

  The miniature Core was installed by Narrow Leg's crew with remarkable speed and efficiency. Carialle felt its power signature, and set up a program so it wouldn't feed back on her own systems. It responded well to the technician who tested it, putting in his own frequency number, and to Tall Eyebrow, whose new circuitry was tied in as well.

  "Its range is 18,000 kilometers," the shipbuilder said, with equal references to the X, Y, and Z axes. "Enough for a planet plus layers of atmosphere plus error factor."

  "That means getting in right on top of the DSC-902," Carialle said. "We'd better not miss. I'm calculating their possible location based on the time signature for their last transmission. I must work from that assumption."

  Keff felt stricken, but he nodded.

  Big Eyes waved for attention. "You have permission to lift when you wish." She looked at Tall Eyebrow. "I go, too?"

  "No," Keff and Tall Eyebrow signed at once. "You could be in danger."

  "We don't know what's out there," Carialle snapped out. "No more arguments. Will you all clear the decks? Keff, TE, secure to station."

  "Go in peace and safety," Narrow Leg said. "Return with honor." He turned to Carialle's pillar, as he had seen the others do. "We will assist your launch." The technicians backed away from the blank panel behind which they had secured the Core. They all flew out of the airlock as Carialle shut it on their heels.

  "Come back," Big Eyes signed simply to Tall Eyebrow. Then, she was gone.

  "Damn M-C," Carialle growled as she lit engines. Flames gathered under her exhaust cones, between the landing fins, wreathing her in light. All her indicators read green and on go. "This wouldn't have happened at all if he hadn't decided I was about to go rogue. He should have believed me! There's something out there, and it's hostile."

  Outside, she observed shadows of Cridi behind the windows of the low buildings at the edge of the field. Farther back, in a great ring around the field, frogs stood, or levitated, or hovered in their saucer-craft, waiting and watching. The infinity of audio broadcast frequencies, both private and public, filled with chatter and speculation, hoping for the first successful launch from their planet in half a Standard century.

  "Here goes." She applied thrusters. Carialle felt the invisible hands holding her down to the surface of the planet drop away, and gather at the foot of her ship.

  "Ready," Keff said. Tall Eyebrow cheeped an affirmative.

  "Brace yourselves," she told the human and the amphibioid as she applied thrust. "Watch your necks."

  "Necks?" Keff asked. "Wh—yyyyyyyyy?!"

  His question became a strained cry as the g-force pushed his head back. Within a half second of putting on her own engines, Carialle felt the envelope rising under her skirts. It felt like everyone on Cridi was helping to push her into space. The force shoved her hard into the sky like an extra booster rocket, bringing her to breakaway speed in record time. Flames from sheer friction danced down her sides as she cut through the atmosphere and emerged into space, yet her internal temperature remained stable. The Cores, both inside and outside the craft, were protecting her. She felt the exosphere seal behind her, planetary ozone readings returning to normal within milliseconds of her passage. The additional thrust cannoned her forward. She was moving 60% faster than she could have gone unassisted. The shields strained against the additional pressure but were fully capable of holding. She lit her own full engines, corrected course, and opened all her receivers, hoping for word from Gavon's ship. A quick slingshot around Cridi, and she was on her way.

  Chapter Eight

  "This is the end of the ship's ion trail," Keff said, reading the telemetry monitors. The CK-963 zigzagged the empty space between the orbits of the last planet and the asteroid belt that marked the border of the Cridi system. They were within half a million klicks of the planet, a dusty, battered rock rimed with iron oxide red and nickel oxide blue. The sun was a faint flicker of yellow over Keff's right shoulder.

  "And this corresponds to the last coordinates from which they transmitted to us," Carialle said. "But where's the ship?" She scanned space around her. There was a little debris, and a very small amount of residual radiation from the right kind of material, but not enough to tell what had happened. The DSC-902 appeared to have crossed the radiopause and disappeared into thin vacuum.

  "If the ship was disabled, it couldn't have drifted far," Keff said, staring at the astrogation tank, searching it for artifacts. "If it was towed, where's the engine trail for the othe
r ship?"

  "What if Gavon was remotely pulled away?" Tall Eyebrow asked, showing the circuitry on his long fingers.

  "The Cores," Carialle said. Keff let out a low whistle. "The pirates who killed them have Cores!"

  "That's why somebody has bottled up the Cridi space program," he said. "The Cores have a limited range, but incredible power inside that radius. That technology alone is worth keeping a secret from the rest of the universe."

  "I think you're right about the why," Carialle said. "We still don't know who. And at this moment, I am more concerned with where."

  She was silent for so long Keff wondered if she had suffered another memory flashback. He waited for a long time, then cleared his throat.

  "Cari? Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," Carialle said, a little too emphatically. "Apart from being burning mad, I'm just on green. I may not like having another ship come in and usurp my mission, but damn it, I will fight my battles myself. Somebody captured or destroyed one of our vessels, and I am damned well going to know who. Nobody messes with a Central Worlds ship on my turf."

  "That's the spirit! Evil highway brigands who prey upon the helpless shall not prevail. We will sally forth and beard the miscreants in their den," Keff said, thumping his chest. He kept his voice light, hoping that her train of thought would not lead Carialle back to her memories of isolation. "We shall slay all who do not beg for mercy and swear allegiance to the CenCom."

  Carialle was amused in spite of her worries. "Thank you, brave Sir Keff. But seriously, who are they? Not Cridi. They wouldn't be shooting at one another, at least not without giving a reason. And it certainly can't be other humans. There's never been any contact with humanity in this system before."

  "That is what Narrow Leg and the others assure me," Tall Eyebrow said.

  "And word would have gotten back to Central Worlds about the frogs if someone was ambushing their flights and stealing from them. We'd have begun to see artifacts that no one could explain—little spaceships," Carialle said. "Who could resist the Core technology? All three of the last Cridi missions had Cores on board."