Hotel Andromeda

by Edited by Jack L. Chalker

  He tried to make light of it. “A week’s not so bad. Hell, the trip Earthside takes months.”

  “But it could have been a very nice week.”

  As she looked at him, he knew what she meant. And he knew she couldn’t put it into words, because she was Secundan and—until Revision—tainted. And even after Revision, people would be looking at Secundans and thinking: I wonder if she ever… You know what I mean?

  Then she added something he’d never thought of. “You’re the first man I’ve ever talked to. We only have seventeen men on Secunda—great fat seed machines, lying on pillows and eating all day. Revolting. Are Earth Men all as nice as you?”

  So as they left External Communications he was wondering if he was mistaken, and if her interest in him was simple curiosity from of the practice of artificial insemination on Secunda. Then he began to wonder if his interest in her was simple gratitude for having saved him from the girl gang. Two depressing items.

  Such things come in threes. At that moment speakers all over the hotel boomed a message: “A Human Referendum is being held at this time. The proposition is that members of the Secundan race constitute a danger to elderly humans and should be confined to Shuttle A-4 effective immediately, until its departure for Earth in approximately seven standard days.”

  “Don’t you have a chance to defend yourself?” asked Imry desperately.

  “What could we say? Nothing they’d listen to.” She turned away. “Goodbye, Earth man. Good luck on Cartaginia. I… I really mean that.”

  She was going. He grabbed her, spun her around. Her face was wet with tears. “No! Let’s hide somewhere!”

  She tried to smile. “You’ve only just arrived. I’ve been here weeks. You’ll find hiding isn’t so easy in Hotel Andromeda as it is in an Earth wilderness. This place is just not built for… for fugitives.”

  “Maybe nobody’s needed to try before.”

  One hour later Lady Disdain of Cartaginia faced Froan yet again, chin high, expressionless as only a self-admitted fool can be.

  “I wish you to cancel the confinement of the appalling Secundans immediately.”

  The alien regarded her blandly. “You surprise me. Lady Disdain.”

  “That is neither here nor there. Cancel the confinement, please.”

  “Perhaps you’d care to tell me why.”

  Really, thought Lady Disdain, it was no business of Froan’s. It was absolutely disgraceful the way these wretched aliens threw their weight about—just because they happened to have been first to invent FTL travel. However, there was no harm in telling it. That might even speed matters up. “I’ve just received a blip from Earth. My clone-sister is president of Earth, you know.”

  If sighing had been a Froan characteristic, Froan would have sighed. “I do know.”

  “Her condition had worsened. As you know, her sickness is the whole reason for my voyage. I must mindmeld with her before she dies. I am to be the next president of the Earth.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Was that sarcasm? Surely not! “It is distressing news. She’s on retabolism, but even so, it’s doubtful that she can last six months. And my shuttle does not depart for another two months. Every day counts, Froan.”

  “So it seems. I would suggest that you travel with the Secundans, Lady Disdain. Their shuttle leaves in seven of your Earth days.”

  Good grief, was the creature utterly stupid? “They have cannibals running wild on that shuttle! You know the Secundan problem as well as I do, Froan. I wouldn’t last a day!” Crone, that was the word those barbarians used. How insulting!

  “Certainly it could be dangerous for a human woman past the age of usefulness.”

  So Froan, like that Secundan girl, had no idea of the contribution older and more experienced people made to human society. Its ignorance was abysmal. Was there any point in arguing with this creature? “I want those Secundans off that shuttle, Froan! I’m commandeering it for myself and my entourage. This is an emergency!”

  “Hotel Security will not prevent your commandeering the vessel. It is a human matter.”

  “How do I get those Secundans out of there? I want your help, you fool!”

  “I cannot help, but you may have my advice. Hold another referendum.”

  “That would be pointless. The human guests in Andromeda have no reason to vote any differently than they did in the referendum we held yesterday—as you know very well, Froan! Nobody likes the Secundans, and rightly so!”

  “That is true.”

  The silence lengthened. Didn’t the wretched alien have anything further to contribute? The Security HQ for this sector of Andromeda was quite small, and Froan was the only person on duty. The other four desks were empty. Where was the human representative, for Heaven’s sake? A human would have understood her problem.

  But as Froan had said earlier: the other security chiefs probably left everything to Froan. Froan wasn’t just one person, it was thousands. Maybe millions, all in continuous contact. Froan could bring unlimited intellect to bear on any security problem. It was desperately unfair. It made nonsense of democracy. Some kind of compensations should be built into the system to limit the power of the Froans.

  “There is another way,” she said reluctantly.

  “That must be a relief for you, Lady Disdain.”

  She hated to ask this; it sounded perilously like begging.

  “You could bestow longevity on my clone-sister right now. A special dispensation. Really,” she continued quickly, sensing the refusal trembling on the alien’s peculiar labia, “I can’t think of a better person than Earth’s president to be the first human to receive your great gift. There is a Froan representative on Earth; the matter could be dealt with quite simply, immediately. It needn’t actually be longevity; she need only live long enough for us to carry out the mindmeld. Nobody else need know.”

  “You know my reply already. Lady Disdain. The existence of the Secundans offends us. We allowed you to enter Froanways so that you would not feel the need for further such adventures into genetic engineering. And we cannot bestow longevity on you until the last Secundan is Revised. That time is not far away.”

  “It’s a year away! Six months in the shuttle, almost as long for Revision. My sister will be dead long before then!”

  “I am sorry Lady Disdain.”

  Immediately below the External Communications Room in Hotel Andromeda is a chamber of roughly similar size where the little blipreaders are housed. At the time of our story, the longest journey undertaken by a blip was two years, dictated by the life span of the bliprider. Nowadays the use of blips has increased tenfold because Froan longevity can also be applied to blipriders. Blipriders are small rodents whose limited mental capacity is occupied almost entirely in applying the Froanways principle to their tiny craft, and in remembering the message with which they are entrusted.

  “But how do you read the blip?” asked Megan Sunrise. “Could I do it if I tried?”

  “Maybe, if you had the right training. The messages aren’t in words. They’re in images. The trick is in knowing the way the bliprider’s mind works. You have to think like a bliprider. Otherwise you can’t understand the message. You might hear it mentally, but it’d be in mouse images, kind of.”

  They’d chosen the blipriders’ quarters as their hideout for the next few days. Humans visited it rarely; the blipriders were fed and cared for by robotic servants. It was an interesting place to be, too. Blips arrived frequently; either sent down the chute from the room above, or brought in by messenger dogs. Megan was concerned about the dogs.

  “Couldn’t Security locate me by giving my scent to a messenger dog? They have everyone’s scents on file.”

  “I don’t think they’re that interested. You’re only one of several hundred thousand humans in the hotel. Security have got enough on their minds without bothering about one Secundan who’s past the bloomer stage anyway.”

  “I suppose you’re right. And anyway, they prob
ably haven’t even noticed I’m not aboard the shuttle. We’re not noted for keeping close tabs on one another, we Secundans. We value our freedom.”

  “In that case, why go to Earth at all? Why not stay here with me?” Imry was being selfish and he knew it. He’d be leaving Hotel Andromeda himself before long. But they were nearing the end of their seven days together and he was getting desperate. They’d furnished an alcove with blankets and slept there when they were tired, made love when they were not. Occasionally he ventured alone into the public areas of the hotel to get food, returning as soon as he could, terrified that he would find her gone.

  “You know I must leave with the others, Imry. The Froans are keeping count. There’ll be no longevity for humans until all Secundans are Revised. I couldn’t be responsible for that. Could you?”

  “I guess not. No.” As he looked at her there was a dreadful emptiness inside him. He thought of Cartaginia and its class system; in his imagination there would be a Lady Disdain lurking behind every tree. Was longevity such a good thing, if he was doomed to live on a world like that?

  But on the last day matters took a turn for the better. He’d gotten into the habit of reading the minds of used blipriders as they arrived for dememorizing, to keep up to date with events. Most of the blips were from Earth; there were few other worlds accessible within the blipriders’ life span. If the bliprider was elderly it would be sent to the euthanasia chamber after delivering its message; if young, it would be dememorized and used again.

  “I’m surprised the Froans agree with the gas chamber,” said Megan on one occasion, as a little brown rodent scampered unknowing to its death.

  “I don’t think they’re interested in unintelligent life forms. To them a mouse is no different from a carrot. It’s there to be used. Civilization is everything to the Froans.”

  “That’s why they’re against us Secundans,” said Megan sadly.

  On that last day, as they lay together in their alcove and tried to spend their final hours in love instead of despair, they heard the door hiss open and a messenger dog came trotting in.

  “Here, boy!” Imry held out a morsel of protein. The dog dropped the container. Imry opened it up, took out the little mouse and held it to his temple.

  Megan watched his expression change from apathy to excitement. “What is it?”

  “It’s a message to Andromeda Dispatch from the president of Earth. My people aren’t going to Cartaginia after all. We’re catching an earlier ship to Secunda instead!” He hugged her. “Isn’t that great! We’ll see each other again!”

  “In a few years.” A lot could happen in that time.

  “But we’ll have longevity by then! What does a couple of years matter, when we’ve got hundreds together?”

  “You’ll get tired of me, Imry. We’re different people.”

  He regarded her. It was difficult to imagine tiring of her, but then it was difficult to imagine living for four hundred years. “I’ll never get tired of you,” he said stoutly.

  Two hours later she was gone.

  Imry remained in the chamber for another two days, trying to think positively. With retabolism on the voyage, he would be seeing Megan again in less than two years’ apparent time. That wasn’t so bad, was it? And on Secunda, too. It was good not to be going to Cartaginia.

  But why wasn’t he going to Cartaginia?

  He began to wonder. Why the change in plan? Their training program had prepared everyone for Cartaginia; for the climate, the culture, the laws, and the social aspect generally. Secunda was a different world. Much less formal, less regimented. And Cartaginia itself had spent years preparing for a sudden influx of immigrants. Secunda had not. What exactly were they supposed to be doing on Secunda?

  As he was puzzling it over, a dog came trotting in. From force of habit now, it dropped the blip at Imry’s feet and stood panting, tongue lolling, waiting for its reward.

  The blip had been for Lady Disdain.

  Imry absorbed the contents with disbelief and finally, fear. Hand shaking, he held the rodent to his temple again, with the same result. Something was terribly wrong. He found himself staring into the little animal’s eyes, willing it to explain more fully. It stared back with beady stupidity. It had no idea of the significance of the message…

  This blip was several days old. The blip diverting Imry’s people to Secunda had been sent after this blip. It might already be too late to save the Secundans. And Megan.

  “You must recall the Earth shuttle’”

  Froan regarded Imry imperturbably. “Why is that?”

  “Please believe me; it’s important. Life and death!”

  “The shuttle is beyond the jurisdiction of Hotel Security. And as you know, shuttles do not operate on the Froanways principle. The Earth shuttle is controlled remotely from the home planet.”

  There was still a chance. Blackmail. That terrible message was his weapon. Yes, a blip from Lady Disdain would over-take the shuttle. It took Imry an hour of fighting his way along crowded walkways to reach her quarters. “She is not here at present,” said a handmaiden.

  “Then summon her, right now! Tell her it’s top priority! Tell her…” He searched for suitable words. One thing he didn’t want to do, was to reveal his knowledge to anyone else. That would back Lady Disdain into a corner. It was important that she should be free to act. “Tell her I’m Imry Sanders the blipreader, and there’s been a terrible mistake. Tell her I’m hoping we can put things right without bringing in the Froans.”

  The handmaiden left. Imry sat down, trying to work it out, running over in his mind the contents of that fateful, so confidential blip. The images in the mouse’s mind were clear and horrifying; so clear that he could still see them in his mind’s eye.

  Destruction. The Earth shuttle close to its destination, then veering off course; the crew struggling with the controls, unable to override the automatics. The interior heating up. The Secundans screaming as their flesh began to melt. Their very screams broiling their lungs. The shuttle plunging on into the furnace of the sun. All this was in the mouse’s mind.

  Placed there by another mind infinitely cruel, infinitely mad.

  The handmaiden returned with a tall man robed in purple. “Lady Disdain is not available. I am empowered to act on her behalf. How can I help you?”

  This was something he hadn’t thought of. He’d assumed he’d be dealing with the woman herself. Well, there wasn’t rime to fool around; he’d have to make the most of what was available. “Are you her Number Two?”

  “On this voyage I am.”

  “I must speak to you alone.”

  “If you like.” He led the way to a small anteroom.

  “Are you sure nobody can hear us?”

  The man smiled condescendingly, humoring him. “Nobody. This place is safe, so Hotel Security assures me. Now. What’s all this about?”

  He took a deep breath. This was going to be tough going. “You must recall the Earth shuttle immediately.”

  “Oh. Must I?” The thick eyebrows rose. “Tell me why.”

  “I have information that it is in danger.”

  “Information?”

  “A blip from the president of Earth to Lady Disdain.” He would have to commit himself if he was to get any action. “I read it.” He could still hardly believe it. “They’re going to massacre the Secundans!”

  The man’s face was impassive. “You’ve been reading confidential blips illegally. You’re the one who’ll be reported to Security. You could be thrown out of your guild, you understand? Don’t you have any professional pride?”

  “That’s hardly the point!” Was the man stalling, or was he on the level? “Don’t you know what was in that blip?”

  “Nobody knows except my lady herself,” he snapped. “If there was a blip, which I doubt. She’s a blipreader; you must know that. All the top people have to be, for the sake of confidentiality. Blips between heads of state are composed and read by heads of state alone. They may b
e confidential, but they do not contain massacre plots.”

  Obviously Lady Disdain wouldn’t have leaked the contents of the blip to her entourage, or anyone else, for that matter. “Listen.” He tried to convey in words the terrible images of destruction contained in the bliprider’s message. Sensing the other’s skepticism, he added, “You wouldn’t want me to tell Security what the blip said, would you?”

  But the man was treating the whole thing as Imry’s juvenile fantasy. “A conspiracy? Certainly it would dispose of the Secundan problem neatly, but why not simply Revise them on Earth, according to the original plan?” He sat down. relaxing, smiling up at Imry.

  “Because Lady Disdain must get to Earth for the mindmeld before the president dies. And the next shuttle doesn’t leave for weeks!”

  “Killing the Secundans wouldn’t get my lady to Earth any more quickly.”

  “It wouldn’t matter. Once all the Secundans are dead, the Froans will grant us longevity. That’ll give the president a couple more years, no matter how sick she is!”

  The Cartaginian laughed shortly. “We could kiss goodbye to longevity if we murdered the Secundans to suit our own ends. The Froans would wash their hands of us forever. Surely even you can see that!”

  “It would look like an accident. An equipment malfunction; the shuttle pulled into the sun.”

  The Cartaginian stood. “All right, that’s enough. I just hope nobody else has heard this stuff. You could do a lot of damage, spreading these kinds of rumors. We’re going through a very sensitive period in our relations with the Froans. We don’t need some kid blipreader fouling things up.”

  “At least get hold of Lady Disdain right now so she can explain the blip!”

  The Cartaginian said slowly, spelling it out, “My Lady Disdain doesn’t have to explain anything to you, or even to me. She is the ruler of Cartaginia. She is the president’s clone-sister. She is the future president of Earth. And in any event I can’t get hold of her, because she’s on that shuttle herself, bound for Earth.”