Serpent's Gift

by A. C. Crispin

  "Partha kel'chon," Rob supplied. "Yeah, he did a fantastic job."

  "Rob, that's an impressive success rate. You have every right to be proud."

  Rob nodded. "Yeah, but--" he broke off, not wanting to get into a sensitive subject.

  Jeff knew him too well to let him off the hook. "Yeah, but what?" he prodded.

  "What were you going to say?"

  The doctor sighed, realizing that he'd been backed into a corner. "Naturally I'm proud," he admitted. "But, Jeff, the picture isn't as rosy as it might appear from the outside. We've had cost overruns, and the CLS Council is kicking about funding. They point out that we're not graduating as many students as we'd predicted."

  Morrow nodded sympathetically. "I've seen articles on the subject. The CLS

  reps point to the high dropout rate, and claim the school isn't paying off the way it was supposed to."

  Rob toyed with his chopsticks, chasing grains of rice around his plate.

  "Believe me, I'm aware of the criticism, and to an extent, it's justified. I keep hoping we'll be able to improve that dropout

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  rate. We're refining our testing methods, trying to pare it down. It's discouraging that some of the best and the brightest just don't graduate, for one reason or another." Serge LaRoche's handsome features flashed across his mind and he frowned, shaking his head. "I feel awkward, discussing this with you .. ."

  "Rob"--Jeff leaned forward earnestly--"I appreciate your tact, but quit trying to save my face when it doesn't need saving! I made my peace over dropping out long ago, and I'm happy with my life as it turned out, I assure you!" He grinned wryly. "I'm a millionaire in my own right now--no way I could've done that if I'd stayed at StarBridge, right?"

  "Brother, you are so right!" Rob agreed, smiling with relief. "You should see my bank balance!"

  "Yeah, I know about that pitiful excuse for a salary they give you. It was in those Public Information records when we gave those archaeologists their grant. Talk about insulting . . ." He grimaced.

  Gable shrugged. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. What do I need with money out here? Hardly anything to spend it on! Years ago I transferred half my holdings over to my sisters, who have six kids between them. Uncle Rob is putting his nieces and nephews through school. The rest is in trust for Claire."

  "If you went back to Earth, you could run for President, Rob," Jeff said earnestly. "I'll finance your campaign. You'll win in a walk, no contest.

  President of Earth--how does it sound?"

  Gable stared at him, appalled . .. then, slowly, Morrow's poker face melted, and both men burst out laughing. "Not me," Rob sputtered finally, gasping for breath. "Not after seeing what Mahree went through when she was Secretary-General. They're trying to talk her into another term, but she's holding out--so far. President of Earth? Hell no, not me!"

  "But the money, the prestige . .." Jeff urged, still chortling.

  "Prestige be damned, and I don't need the money," Rob said dryly. "Thanks, but no thanks!" Sobering, he changed the subject. "Speaking of money, about that grant H.U. gave the archaeologists out at the Cliffs .. ."

  "Go on," Morrow encouraged.

  "If you folks have any more grant money floating around that hasn't been assigned, Ssoriszs got some bad news today. The Mizari Archaeological Society is backing off from their promise. They want to send someone out to evaluate the site, but they're no longer talking about a full team. Professor Greyshine says he'll carry on as best he can, but he and Serge need to pressurize more

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  of the caverns. That takes equipment--and money. If they can't do that, they'll have to stop."

  Jeff shook his head. "After all that work? We can't let that happen!" He considered for a moment. "I believe the grants have all been apportioned, but I'd be willing to help with a private contribution. It would be tax deductible, right?"

  Rob's eyes widened. "Jeff, that's--that's extremely generous of you!"

  Morrow shrugged. "I don't have time to spend half of what I've got--I'm too busy working. Tell Greyshine that my assistant, Helene Majors, will be in touch to see what he needs so they can generate some figures."

  Rob started to thank him again, but was interrupted by the waiter arriving with the tempura. Jeff waved aside his friend's gratitude. "I'd rather spend it on something like this than some charity back on Earth that has a board of directors earning fat salaries. You know how important StarBridge is to me ...

  always will be."

  The doctor nodded as he dipped a shrimp (real shrimp, imported from Earth, this meal is costing Jeff a fortune, he thought) into one of the sauces and raised it to his lips--

  --just as the telepathic summons reverberated in his mind like a sudden shout.

 

  Doctor Blanket? the psychologist thought incredulously. He'd never known that the Avernian's telepathy could reach so far. Oblivious to his startled companion, to the shrimp that had fallen into his lap, Rob shut his eyes and concentrated. Doctor Blanket, what's wrong?

 

  The environmental systems! Oh, shit! Rob leaped to his feet, barking his shins on the low table and wincing. "Jeff, I'm sorry, but I've got to get back to the school--something's wrong--"

  "What? How do you know that?" Morrow stared, bewildered.

  "Doctor Blanket just contacted me. There's some kind of environmental problem. I'm sorry about dinner, but--"

  "Don't worry about me!" Jeff broke in, waving at him reassuringly. Despite his words, some emotion flashed in his eyes that Rob couldn't read.

  Annoyance? Irritation? No, it was stronger than that, but now wasn't the time to pursue it. Rob's concern for his

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  school filled his mind with a terrible sense of urgency. The environmental system! Oh, God!

  "I've got to get to a phone, call for the shuttle to come pick me up . . ." Rob said over his shoulder, already striding toward the entrance and the computer links. "I promise, Jeff, I'll make it up to you ... the next time is on me, but I--"

  "Quit apologizing!" Jeff ordered crisply, catching up to him at the entrance and grabbing his arm. "Just hold on for a second, Rob! Stop!"

  The doctor obeyed, watching as the engineer spoke briefly into a small comlink he took out of his pocket. "There, it's all arranged. You don't have to wait for your shuttle, one of the H.U. pilots will take you down. He'll meet you in Docking Bay Four-B, okay?"

  "Four-B," Rob repeated. 'Thanks, I really appreciate this," he said, extending his hand.

  Morrow's grip was strong and reassuring. "Call me," he said, his handsome features creased with worry. "I'll be wondering what's up until I hear from you."

  "I will. Thanks again, Jeff. I wish. . ." The doctor smiled and shrugged. "No rest for the wicked."

  Morrow smiled faintly. "That place owns you, body and soul, doesn't it?"

  Rob rolled his eyes. "At least it's never dull!" With a last wave at Morrow, he dashed down the corridor toward the docking bays.

  Once aboard the shuttle, Rob used the small ship's communications equipment to call his assistant, Resharkk'. The Simiu informed him that the Academy was currently on "environmental alert" status--students were required to strap on one of the emergency beltpaks designed by the Mizari.

  These small units generated a protective field that could maintain air supply and pressure to sustain the wearer for thirty minutes--in theory, long enough for the individual to reach a securely pressurized area. They were also supposed to activate the location transmitters built into their student pins.

  But these measures were strictly precautionary, Resharkk' emphasized.

  He'd just spoken to Janet Rodriguez and she'd told him that the threat to the Academy's en
vironmental computers appeared to be confined to the waste-disposal unit in Khuharkk's quarters. Somehow, the Simiu reported, the student's toilet had reversed itself.

  "It what?" Rob said incredulously. "How could that happen?"

  "Unknown, Honored HealerGable," Resharkk' said, his violet eyes very grave.

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  "Can you connect me with Janet?" Rob asked, then glancing out the viewport, he amended, "Never mind. We're almost there. I'll talk to her soon.

  Where exactly is Khuharkk' now?"

  "In the infirmary, Honored Rob," the Simiu said.

  "I'll go there first."

  Rob hurried through the corridors, conscious of the knots of tense students who crowded together, whispering. Each of them wore one of the small beltpaks. "Take it easy," Rob told the groups he passed. "Think of this as just another drill. The beltpaks are just a routine precaution. The pressure is fine. Everything's okay."

  Reaching the infirmary, Rob went in and the human physician, Dr. Rachel Mysuki, admitted him into the examining room. Khuharkk' was there, having just emerged from the shower. Simiu hated to get wet, with good cause; the student's luxuriant coat was a stringy, soggy mess that would require hours of combing and grooming to restore.

  Rob struggled with the guttural growls, shrill whines, and sharp clicks of the language. "Honored Khuharkk' .. . what happened?"

  The student blinked at Rob, his violet eyes still glassy from shock, then slowly shook his head. "I do not know, Honored HealerGable. One moment everything was fine, then next..." He shuddered deeply.

  Rob watched as Dukeekk', the Simiu counselor, and Frikk'har, Khuharkk's roommate, labored over the stricken student, drying his fur while offering deep-throated rumbles of reassurance. He struggled to translate the Simiu's soft whines of distress:

  "Dishonor. .. ultimate dishonor... if my family knew ... I cannot bear this, I cannot! Why did this have to happen to me? I am dishonored, besmirched ..."

  "Khuharkk'," Rob said, waving a hand to get the victim's attention. "Did you have any warning? Any sound, any ... odor?"

  The student shook his head, his whines and yips of distress finally quieting.

  "None, Honored HealerGable. No warning. Suddenly I was surrounded by.. ." He shuddered, his usually upstanding crest drooping limp and sodden. "My honor is destroyed, Honored HealerGable. Everyone knows what happened to me, how degraded I am. I cannot bear for them to know of my disgrace! I must leave here immediately."

  "Honored Khuharkk', your honor is not compromised. Everyone knows that what happened was in no way your fault!" Rob insisted. To demonstrate his respect, he made a deep Mizari bow to the student. Straightening, he gave the Simiu counselor a meaningful glance. "Dukeekk' knows that, don't you?"

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  "Your honor is intact, Honored Khuharkk'," the older alien said, picking up on her cue. "I assure you that in my eyes you are no way diminished."

  "I also know that your honor is intact, FriendKhuharkk'," Frikk'har maintained stoutly, patting his roommate's shoulder comfortingly. "And I will personally challenge anyone that dares say otherwise!"

  "So will I," Dukeekk' added.

  "So will I," Rob said. "And I'd like to see anyone defeat me in the Arena of Honor!" He raised a clenched fist and flexed his biceps ostentatiously. As he'd hoped, the idea of a human defeating a Simiu in a bare-hands fight was so ridiculous that Dukeekk's and Frikk'har's muzzles wrinkled and they snorted softly with amusement. Even Khuharkk's eyes brightened with a gleam of humor.

  "Honored HealerGable," he said gently, "you have made your point. Very well, I will stay."

  "That's the spirit!" Rob said. Then he turned without further ado and left.

  Simiu greetings were prolonged and traditional, but leave-takings were not--

  it was perfectly polite to simply walk away once a meeting was concluded.

  Rob's next stop was Khuharkk's quarters. As he entered the Simiu-adapted wing, Rob followed an ever-thickening trail of slimy, odorous debris that terminated in foul smears, clumps, and spatters as he reached the stricken student's room. A small crowd still gathered outside, but most of the students had gone back to their own rooms. Shooing the stragglers away, Rob keyed open the door and found Janet Rodriguez in Khuharkk's sleeping room, intently working at the computer link.

  "Rob!" she exclaimed, relief lighting her weary features. "How is Khuharkk'?"

  The doctor wrinkled his nose at the stench within the confines of the room.

  "Physically, he's fine. Emotionally ... shaken, very shaken. But I believe I convinced him that everyone will understand that this was an accident, and that it doesn't impugn his honor." Glancing down at the smears on the floor matting, he shook his head. "Janet, what the hell happened?" At her sardonic glance, he waved a hand at her. "Yeah, I know it's obvious what happened. Somehow the waste-disposal cycle in Khuharkk's bathroom reversed itself after he'd. .. finished using the facilities."

  She frowned grimly. "It's worse than that. Somehow, all the school's wastes for the entire evening failed to reach the energy recycling unit, and instead got shunted into this line, and then

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  reversed when Khuharkk' flushed the unit."

  Rob's eyes widened. "That's impossible!"

  "It should be," Janet said stonily. "That's what scares me."

  Rob strode across the room, heading for the bathroom. The Chief Engineer shook her head at him. "I wouldn't. I haven't activated the cleaning servos, yet. It's pretty bad ... I lost my supper."

  "I'm a doctor," Rob reminded her curtly. "One time I had to autopsy a weekold--"

  The psychologist broke off with a gasp as he stepped inside the bathroom, then he clapped his hand over his mouth and nose, feeling the sushi lurch in his stomach. Even a single whiff made his eyes water. Pinching his nostrils shut, breathing through his mouth, Rob forced himself to hold his ground for a moment.

  Bodily wastes from human and alien students splattered the ceiling, walls, and fixtures in grotesque, bas-relief sculptures radiating outward from the toilet. Brown, indigo, crimson, white, green .. . Rob had never realized that excrement came in so many colors and textures. Janet's abandoned supper didn't help matters any.

  "Oh, my God .. ." Rob whispered. Gagging, he backed up, then retreated hastily to the entrance to Khuharkk's quarters. Bracing himself in the doorway, he drew a deep, grateful breath of blessedly recycled air.

  "Thanks for not saying 'Holy shit,' " Janet said dryly, joining him.

  "No wonder Khuharkk' was hysterical!" Rob gasped, wiping his eyes. "How could this happen? And most importantly--does this indicate that there's something wrong with the environmental systems?"

  Janet shook her head, her short reddish hair standing on end, as though she'd been tugging at it. "It wasn't a mechanical failure, I know that.

  Somehow the computer glitched and caused the sanitation system to reverse. My checks indicate that everything--including the waste-disposal system--is running normally again."

  "A computer glitch caused that?" Rob was aghast. "How? Why? Can you trace it?"

  "I've been trying. As to how, there's no indication in the system. I'm going to check everything again--to the extent of getting a binary dump, if I have to.

  But I have a feeling I'm not going to find anything." Janet's green eyes narrowed. "Rob, I can't prove it, but my gut instinct tells me this was sabotage."

  "Sabotage?" Rob's mouth went dry. "But--but. .."

  "I know it doesn't make sense, but I can't shake the feeling."

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  "Not everyone is in favor of the Academy," Rob said slowly. "There are anti-StarBridge factions on most worlds, I'd guess. But if some terrorist wanted to harm us, why do something like this? Why not tamper with the water, or the food--or, God forbid, the air? Blowing sewage out of one toilet isn't life-threatening, it's more like a practical joke, a prank .. . wait a minute, a prank . . ." Rob ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. "Pranks using computers ... oh, no .. ."

&n
bsp; "What?" Janet seized on his words. "You think this was some kind of practical joke?"

  "In a bizarre way, the punishment even fits the crime--an eye for an eye, a bathroom accident for a bathroom accident. . ." Rob muttered, his mind racing. His eyes met Janet's, holding her gaze. "Suppose this was a prank,"

  he said slowly. "Or revenge, aimed at Khuharkk'. Is it possible that somebody programmed the system to cause this?"

  "Without leaving a single trace of meddling?" Janet was skeptical. "I don't know, Rob, that's asking a lot. Tampering by hackers is usually detectable, and I haven't seen any sign of that."

  "But is it possible?" he repeated tensely.

  "I'd like it to be possible," her voice was quiet. "Believe me, I'd much rather conclude that somebody managed to bypass the multiple levels of fail-safes and traps I programmed into these systems than believe that the whole incident is accidental, and that those multiple fail-safes coincidentally went down at the same time." Her eyes searched his drawn features. "You think someone did this deliberately? Supposing someone could engineer this--

  though I have trouble imagining how--who would do this? And why?"

  "I think it was a kid named Heather Farley," Rob said bleakly. "And, like you, I don't have any proof. . . just my gut reaction."

  "That little kid?" Janet was startled. "You mean the girl who nearly got slugged by"--her eyes widened--"by Khuharkk', that's who!" She put a hand on Rob's arm, shook it excitedly. "Did Serge tell you that she wet herself when Khuharkk' came at her?" Rob nodded grimly. "Damn, it fits, doesn't it!

  But how? How could she manage it?"

  "I don't know how," the psychologist said. "But you ought to see her file."

  Briefly, he recounted some of Heather's more spectacular bits of computer chicanery--including the "systems failure by unknown causes" that had plagued the Melbourne Satellite School. "This sounds like more of the same," he finished.

  "But there's not a shred of evidence that she did this. And I can't even begin to imagine how she did it--if she did it." Janet glanced 71

  at the ugly trail leading up the hall and shuddered. "If you're right, and Heather Farley did this, she's dangerous, Rob. I helped install the systems here at the Academy, and believe me, we anticipated that someday some bright young hacker might try to mess around with the life-support systems to show off. Heather should have tripped several traps on her way in--but she didn't."