"You can't talk to them, Zebara, you're dead. Remember! Heavyworlders are more susceptible. The bacterial plague has claimed another victim. Pollili, you talk to them."
"Me?" squeaked the telemetry officer. "I can't talk to people like them. They won't believe me."
Flor was wringing her hands with nervousness. "Someone's got to speak to them. Soon. Please."
Lunzie hauled Pollili by the hand into the communications booth. "Poll, this can save all our lives. Will you trust me?"
The heavyworlder female looked at her beseechingly. "What are you doing to do?"
"I'm going to convince you that what you are about to say is one hundred percent the truth." Lunzie leaned forward and put a comforting hand, the one in the cast, on the other's arm. "Trust me?"
Pollili shot a desperate look at the beeping console. "Yes."
"Good. Zebara, will you clear everyone else out for a moment?"
Puzzled, the captain complied. "But I'm staying," he announced when everyone had left.
"As you wish." Lunzie resigned herself to his presence. "Flor can't hear us, can she?"
Zebara glanced at the set of indicator lights above the thick quartz glass panel. "No."
"All right. Poll, look at me." Lunzie stared into the heavyworlder's eyes and called upon the Discipline techniques she had learned on Tau Ceti. Keeping the small hypospray out of Flor's line of sight, she showed it to Pollili. "Just something to help you relax. I promise you it's not harmful." Pollili nodded uneasily. Lunzie pressed the head of the hypospray against the big woman's forearm. Pollili sagged back, her eyes heavy and glassy. Flor stared curiously from the other side of the panel and reached for a control. Zebara forestalled her with a gesture and she sat back in her chair, watching.
Lunzie kept her voice low and gentle. "Relax. Concentrate. You are Quinada, servant and aide to Ienois of the Parchandri Merchant Families. You landed here with a crew of twenty-five. Eight have already died of the bacterial plague, all heavyworlders. Arabesk, the Governor's personal representative, has just succumbed. Nine lightweights, the oldest and weakest ones, are also dead and the clone-types are showing at least the first symptoms of infection. You have a pernicious, deep-lung cough which strikes whenever you get excited. The bacteria is found only within thirty feet of the ground." Lunzie turned to Zebara. "That's too low for a probe to fly safely. With topographical variances, it's more likely to crash into a tree or a rock outcropping." Zebara nodded approval.
Lunzie turned back to programming Pollili. "The bacteria multiplies in direct relation to warmer temperatures. It's 22 degrees Celsius here right now. Optimum breeding time. You, Quinada, have connections with the faction in the Tau Ceti sector. You are something of a bully so you are not easily cowed by the inferior dogsbodies of any pirate vessel." Now Lunzie signalled to Flor to open the channel to the communications booth. "Remember, your name is Quinada, and you don't take guff from anyone, especially the weakling lightweights. You respect only your master, and he is one of those who is ill. You know and trust those of us here in the ship. We are your friends and business associates. When you hear your real name again, you will regain your original memories. I will touch you now and you will reply as circumstances require."
"We seek Diplomat Arabesk," the tinny voice said again. Pollili roused the instant Lunzie touched her arm. The medic leaned out of range of the video pickup and crept from her side.
"Arabesk is dead. Who is this?"
"Who speaks?" the voice demanded, surprised.
"Quinada!" Pollili said with great authority and some annoyance.
"Who is this Quinada?" Zebara asked in a low voice as Pollili's expression assumed a suitably Quinadian scowl.
"Just who I said she is," Lunzie whispered, crossing her fingers as she watched the heavyworlder female lean forward, prepared to dominate. "She works for a merchant who knew about Ambrosia more than two weeks before I left Tau Ceti for the ARCT-10. I must now assume that Ienois has direct lines with pirates from here, the ARCT-10 and Alpha Centauri. Since he's got such a wide family, I'd be willing to bet someone of his kin were involved in setting up the Phoenix double-deal."
"This Quinada must have made quite an impression on you," Zebara replied wryly. "However did you impose her on Poll?"
"A Discipline technique."
"Not one of which I've ever heard. You must be an Adept. Oh, don't worry," Zebara assured her as she began to protest. "I can keep secrets. More than one, if your information on this merchant is true."
"Do I have to repeat everything to you dense-heads? I am Quinada," Pollili said, scowling and pulling her brows together in an excellent imitation of her model. "Servant to Ienois, senior Administrator in the eminent Parchandri Merchant Families. Who are you to challenge me?" There was a long pause during which the audio was cut off.
"We know of your master and we know your name," the voice announced at last, "though not your face. What are you doing on this planet?"
"My master's affairs. My last duty to him," Pollili answered crisply. "No more of that. Arabesk is dead and I speak for those still alive."
"Where is your master?"
"The lung-rotting cough took him yesterday. The puny lightweight stock from which he springs will probably see the end of him before the week is over." Pollili delivered the last with an air of disgust overlaying her evident grief. Lunzie nodded approvingly from her corner. Pollili's own psyche was adding to the pattern Lunzie had impressed on her mind. Fortunately, there weren't the same dangerous leanings in Pollili's makeup that repulsed Lunzie in the original Quinada but the telemetry officer sounded most convincing.
"Quinada" confidently answered the rapid-fire questions that the voice shot to her. To consolidate her position, "Quinada" put up on the screen the genetic detailing of the bacterium which Bringan and the others had created. She explained what she understood of it. As Pollili, she knew a good deal about bacteria but the Quinada overlay wouldn't comprehend that much bioscience.
With her headset clasped to one ear, Flor gestured frantically for Zebara to join her in the soundproof control station. "Sir, I'm receiving live transmission from the Zaid-Dayan. They're approaching from behind the sun after making a triple jump! Those must be some fancy new engines. They'll be here within minutes!"
"Keep them talking!" Zebara mouthed through the glass to Pollili.
The woman nodded almost imperceptibly as she ordered the bio-map off the screen.
"It may interest you to know, Citizen Quinada, that we have taken atmospheric samples and find no traces of this organism which you claim has killed five of your colleagues." The voice held a triumphant note.
"Eight," "Quinada" corrected him. "Eight are dead now. The organism hovers within ten meters of the surface. Your probe didn't penetrate far enough."
"Perhaps your entire complement is alive and well, with no cough at all. We have noticed no difference in the number of infrared traces in your group between our first conversation and now."
"Dammit," Bringan groaned, "I knew we forgot something."
"Quinada" had an answer for that. "We have placed some of the sick in cold sleep. You are picking up heat traces for the machinery." "Quinada" coughed pointedly.
"You are not fooling us," the pirate sneered. "Your ship's identification signal is being scrambled. We suspect it is EEC, not Parchandri or Diplo. We have doubts as to your identity, Quinada, Your bio-file will be in our records. If it is yours."
Nervously, Zebara began to drum on the doorframe. The sound affected Lunzie's nerves. Tension began to knot up her insides. She forced herself to relax, to set an example of calm for the others. In the communications booth, Flor was white-faced with fear. Bringan paced restlessly in the corridor.
Under strain from her interrogator, "Quinada" started coughing. "You dare not accuse me of lying! Not if you were standing here before me. Come down, then, and die!"
"No, you will die. We will broil you and your make-believe organisms where you lie." The voice be
came savagely triumphant. "We do not look kindly on those who deceive us. We claim this planet."
The team members looked at one another with dismay.
"Attention, unidentified vessel." Another voice, crisply female and human, broke into the transmission. "This is the Fleet Cruiser Zaid-Dayan, Captain Vorenz speaking. Under the authority of the FSP, we call upon you to surrender your vessels and prepare for boarding."
Pollili sat, eyes on the swirling pattern on the screen, without reaction. Scarran dashed for the telemetry station, the others right behind him.
"There is another blip! Phew, but the Zaid-Dayan is a big mother," he said.
The light indicating the FSP warship was fast closing with the planet from a sunward direction. On screen, it projected the same intensity as the transport ship but with much more powerful emanations. Statistics scrolled beside each blip. The enemy must have been reading the same information on its screens, because the two pirate vessels veered suddenly, breaking orbit and heading in different directions.
Tiny sparks erupted on the edge of the pirate escort facing the FSP cruiser as the transport ship broke for the edge of the Ambrosian system.
"What's that?" asked Lunzie, indicating the flashes.
"Ordnance," Timmins said. "Escort's firing on the ZD so the lugger can escape."
Answering flickers came from the FSP ship as it increased velocity, coming within a finger's width of the pirate.
"They've got to stop the lugger from getting away!" Elessa exclaimed.
"It can't get them both," Vir chided her.
"I'd rather the ZD took out the armed ship, myself. We're not safe and home yet."
"Oh, for a Tri-D tank," Flor complained. "The coordinates say that they're miles apart but you can't get the proper perspective on this obsolete equipment."
The transport zipped off the edge of the screen in seconds. The two remaining blips crossed. For a moment they couldn't tell which was which, until Scarran reached over and touched a control.
"Now they're different colors. Red's the pirate, blue's the Zaid-Dayan."
Red vectored away from Blue, firing rapid laser bolts at the larger ship. The blue dot took some hits, not enough to keep it from following neatly on the tail of Red. Now it was Red's turn to be peppered with laser bolts. Then a large flash of light issued from the blue dot.
"Missile!" Scarran exclaimed.
A tiny blip joined the larger two on the screen, moving very slowly toward the red light. The pirate vessel began desperate evasive maneuvers which apparently availed nothing against the mechanical intelligence guiding its nemesis. At last, Red had to turn its guns away from Blue long enough to rid itself of the chasing light dogging its movements.
The Zaid-Dayan sank a beautiful shot in the pirates' engine section. The red blip yawed from the blow but recovered; the pirate had as much unexpected maneuverability as weaponry. But the FSP cruiser inexorably closed the distance between them.
The speakers crackled again. "Surrender your vessel or we will be forced to destroy you," the calm female voice enjoined the pirate. "Stop now. This is our last warning."
"You will be the one destroyed," the mechanical voice from the pirate replied.
"They're heading into the atmosphere," Flor said, and indeed it seemed that the pirate was making one last throw of the dice, a desperate gamble with death.
"Turn on visual scan," Zebara ordered.
The communications officer illuminated another screen which showed nothing but sky. Gradually they could catch the shimmering point of light growing larger and larger in the sky to the north.
"Increase contrast." Flor complied, and the point separated into two lights, one behind the other. "Here they come."
Even at a thousand kilometers the scout team could hear the roar of the ships as they plunged through the atmosphere in controlled dives. On the screen,. the two ships resembled hot white comets, arcing from the sky. Laser fire scored red sparks in the blazing white fire of each other's hulls.
"They're coming in nearly on top of us," Flor said in a shriek.
Red fire lanced out of the lead ship on the screen. Instead of pointing backward at the pursuing vessel, it blazed toward the planet's surface. There was a loud hiss and an explosion from outside the scout. Fragments of stone flew past the open hatchway. The force field protected those inside, but it would not hold for long. A smell of molten rock filled the air.
"Bloody pirates!" Zebara roared. "Evacuate ship! Now!" He lunged for the command console, ripping it from its moorings, and made for the exit.
"Well, I expected retaliation," Bringan replied, cradling something against his chest as he followed the captain. "Everybody out!"
The rest of the team didn't wait to secure anything but dove through the hatch. Lunzie was nearly to the ground before she realized that Pollili still hadn't moved.
"Come on!" she yelled, urgently. "Hurry! Come on—Pollili!"
The woman looked around, dazed and incredulous.
"Lunzie? Where is everyone?"
"Evacuate, Poll. Evacuate!" Lunzie shouted, waving her arm. "Get out now! The pirates are firing on us.
The heavyworlder shot out of the booth like a launched missile. On her way down the ramp, she picked Lunzie up with one muscular arm about her waist and flung them both out of the hatchway. They hit the dirt and rolled down the hillside as another streak of red light destroyed a stand of trees to the left of the ship. The next bolt scored directly on the scout's engines. Lunzie was still rolling down the slope when the explosion dropped the ground a good three feet underneath her. She landed painfully on her arm brace and skidded down into the stream at the bottom of the hill, where she lay, bruised and panting. The only part of her which wasn't abraded was the forearm protected by the arm brace.
Pollili landed beside her. They flipped on their force-screens and covered their heads with their arms. The pirate escort made a screaming dive, coming within sixty feet of the surface. Its engines were covered with lines of blue lightning like St. Elmo's fire. It had sustained quite a lot of damage.
The pirate was followed by a ship so big Lunzie couldn't believe it could avoid crashing.
"The Zaid-Dayan!"
The two ships exchanged fire as they changed direction, headed out toward Dondara's rock flats before ascending once more into the sun. Radiant heat from their passage set fire to the trees on the edge of the plateau. The pirate and the cruiser continued to blast away even as they touched the bottom of their parabola and veered upward toward the sky. They were completely out of sight in the upper atmosphere when Lunzie and Pollili felt air sucked away from them and then heard a huge BOOM! A tiny fireball erupted in the middle of the sky, spreading out into a gigantic blazing cloud edged with black smoke. The explosion turned into a long rumble which altered to a loud and threatening sibilation.
"Into the water, quickly!" Lunzie gasped.
The two women were just barely under the surface when hot fragments of metal rained down around them, hissing angrily as they struck the water. The fragments were still hot when they touched the edge of their protective force-screen envelopes and passed through harmlessly.
Lunzie's lungs were beginning to ache and her vision to turn black by the time the pieces stopped falling. When she finally crawled up the bank, her legs still in water, she gratefully pulled in deep breaths.
Pollili emerged next to her and flopped on her back, water streaming out of her hair and eyes. There were burns on the fabric of her tunic, and a painful-looking scorch mark on the back of one hand.
"It's over," Lunzie panted, "but who won?"
"I sure hope we did," Pollili breathed, staring up at the sky as the thrum of engines overhead grew louder.
Lunzie rolled over and dared to look up. The FSP warship, its spanking new colors scorched and carbonized and lines etched into its new hull plates by the enemy lasers, hovered majestically over the plateau where the destroyed scout had once rested, and triumphantly descended.
&nbs
p; "We sure did." Pollili's voice rang with pride.
"That," declared Lunzie, "is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Singed about the edges, scorched a bit, but beautiful!"
The Zaid-Dayan carried the scout team to rendezvous with the ARCT-10. Zebara's team was lauded as heroes by the Fleet officers for holding off the pirate invasion until help could arrive. Pollili especially was decorated for "performance far beyond the line of duty."
"It should have been for sheer invention," Dondara muttered under his breath.
Pollili was uncomfortable with the praise and asked Lunzie to explain just what she had done which everyone thought was so brilliant.
"I trusted you; now tell me what you trusted me to do," Pollili complained. When Lunzie gave a brief resume, Poll frowned at her, briefly resuming her "Quinada" mode. "Then you should take some of the credit. You thought up the deception."
"Not a bit," Lunzie said. "You did it all. I did nothing but allow you to use latent ingenuity. Chalk it up to the fact that people do extraordinary things when under pressure. In fact, I'd be obliged if you glossed over my part in it to anyone else."
Pollili shook her head at first but Lunzie gave her a soulfully appealing look. "Well, all right, if that's what you wish. Zebara says I can't ask how you did it. Only at least tell me what I said that I don't remember so I can tell Dondara."
Lunzie also reassured Dondara that his mate could not snap back into her "Quinada" role. He'd missed it all since he was just returning to the scout just as the ship was blown up. He had been set to wade into the molten wreckage and find some trace of Pollili. He was very proud that his mate was considered hero of the day and constantly groused that the computer record of her stellar performance had been destroyed along with the scout ship. Lunzie was relieved rather than upset and eventually gave Dondara a bowdlerized description of the events.
The other team members had suffered only bruisings and burns in their escape, treated by Fleet medical officers in the Zaid-Dayans state-of-the-art infirmary. Bringan's hands and feet were scorched and had been wrapped in coldpacks by the medics. In his scramble from the scout ship, he had been so concerned to preserve the records he salvaged that he hadn't turned on his force-belt. He also hadn't realized that he was climbing over melting rock until the soles of his boots began to smoke. He'd had a desperate time trying to pry the boots off with his bare hands.
The Death of Sleep Page 30