by Andre Norton
There now remained the personal cabins, those of the engineering staff first. None of them were luxuriously furnished, and their cramped compactness meant that the men who lived in them were forced into meticulous neatness if they were not already that way by habit. There were no lockers, no storage compartments open. He went into each and inspected any possible hiding place, and those of the right size were very few. Each fresher, though the door might be firmly shut, was opened. There was nothing.
Next level up—Van Ryke’s combined living quarters and office. Dane stepped inside. Nothing here. Not for the first time since this began, he wished that its usual inhabitant was on board now. They needed Van Ryke. The cargo master’s years of experience in all the mazes of trade and alien dealing were, for Dane, the best preparation for solving what had happened now.
The treasure hold across from the cargo master’s quarters—seal safely intact, just as he had left it. Next level—junior officers’ quarters, Rip’s cabin facing his, the hydro garden, the galley, Mura’s section. This was to be the extent of his own exploration, and not all of it, as Mura would cover his quarters and the hydro. Dane had only his cabin and Rip’s.
He took Rip’s first—all in order—then his own. As he opened the door, only a fraction of off aim saved him. A stun beam clicked along above his ear, sending him reeling back into the corridor. He managed to push shut the slide door and leaned there, holding his spinning head, trying to think coherently. Someone— something—inside was armed with a stunner and had tried to down him when he entered. Had there been another intruder beside the dead man? That was the only possible explanation. He lurched along to the nearest com mike and thumbed the red alert.
“What—?” Wilcox’s voice demanded, but it sounded very faint and far away as if the jolt that had brushed Dane had left him partially deaf.
“Someone—my cabin—stunner—” He got out the warning. He was watching the door, though he was not sure how, unarmed, he could prevent that other from leaving if he wanted to.
But if the intruder in Dane’s cabin realized he had the advantage, he did not try to use it to force his way out. The Terran tried to think of where any stowaway might have hidden. The interior of the flitter maybe—though to take the acceleration of lift-off, plus the wrench of translation into hyper, without any safeguards would knock most men out. Of course, this might not be a human at all.
There was a clatter on the ladder as Jellico swung down. And Frank Mura came at the same moment from the hydro. Tau followed the captain. The medic went at once to Dane.
“Clipped me with a stunner,” he explained.
“Still in there?” Jellico looked to the cabin.
“Yes.”
“All right. Tau, how about sleep gas through the air duct?”
The medic pushed Dane closer to the wall with an order of “Stay put!” and then climbed back to his lab on the next level. He returned with a small container and a length of tubing, which he handed over to the captain. “All ready.”
“Did you see who it was?” Tau asked as the captain stepped into Rip’s cabin and began unscrewing the mesh protector over the air duct.
“No. All happened too fast. After he clipped me, I couldn’t see straight, anyway. But where could a stowaway have been—in the flitter?”
“Through lift-off? Well, maybe,” Tau conceded, “if he were really tough. But into hyper—I doubt it, unless he took the jump in Shannon’s bunk. Shannon was on duty, and the dead man was in yours—”
They could see Jellico through the open door, inserting the tubing, pushing it along with care as he stood on Rip’s bunk, his shoulders hunched, concentrating on what he could see of the tube’s reptilian passage until it reached the grill of Dane’s quarters. Then he made more delicate movements, and Dan guessed he was maneuvering the end of the tube to strike against the grill so that the released gas would go directly into the closed cabin.
“Now!” His grip tightened on the small container in one hand, while with the other he held the mask Tau handed him over his own nose and mouth against any back draft from the tube. The wait for the container to be emptied seemed endless to Dane. He was shaking off the effects of the stunner touch. Finally Jellico pulled back the tube and dropped to the deck.
“If whoever is in there breathes,” he said with dour satisfaction, “he’s out now.”
That statement sounded odd to Dane, almost as if the captain might share that monstrous suspicion about the dead returned to life again.
Dane reached the door first. It was not locked from the inside but gave easily, so they could see in, the masks supplied by Tau now in use by them all, while the medic was using a sucker to draw the fumes out of the air.
Dane so fully expected to see a man that for a second or two he was disconcerted when he sighted nothing of the kind. What lay on the floor of the cabin, one forepaw still resting on the stunner, was the male brach, while curled on the bunk lay the female. And both were unconscious.
“The brachs!” Dane went down on one knee and touched the feathery covering of the male before he believed it true. But it was the brach. There was no one else here. The animal had used the stunner with the intelligence of a man brought to bay. Dane glanced at the captain and for the first time in his service aboard the Queen saw Jellico startled out of his usual impassivity.
But Tau had crowded past Dane and was bending over the female brach to make a quick examination.
“She’s in labor. Let me through!” He gathered up the limp animal and stepped over the inert male.
“What about it?” Dane looked from the captain to Mura and back to the male brach. “It—it must have used the stunner. But—”
“A trained brach?” suggested the steward. “Conditioned perhaps to use a weapon under certain circumstances?”
“Maybe,” Jellico conceded. “But I don’t know. Frank, can you make that cage break-proof?”
“Put a chain on, rig an alarm—” Mura listed the possibilities. He came forward to lean over and stare down at the sleeping animal. Dane picked up the stunner and thrust it into the nearest compartment, which he slammed shut.
“An animal,” Mura said. “I swear it is—was—an animal. I have seen brachs. These acted no differently. Why, when I filled their feed bin—” He paused, a slight frown drawing his black brows closer together.
“You filled their feed bin and what happened?” the captain wanted to know.
“This one, the male, watched me latch it. Then he reached through the bars and shook the fastenings. I thought he only wanted more of the renton leaves, and I gave him some. But now I think he was trying the door lock.”
“Well, let’s get him back in the cage before he wakes up,” Jellico said. “And use the chain and the alarm, Mura. We might set a video on and hook it to general screen cast as a precaution. I want a record of what happens when he wakes up.”
Mura lifted the brach and carried it back to the cage. Both Jellico and Dane watched him take the precautions that had been suggested. Then Ya was called to rig the video so that they could keep the animal under watch as if he were a suspect in a cell, a snooper on him.
“Who is responsible for this shipment?” Jellico turned to Dane.
“The Norax lab. All the papers are correct. They are to be sent through to the Simplex people on Trewsworld—authorized project by Council permission.”
“Nothing about mutants?”
“No, sir. Perfectly ordinary listing. It had all the proper notations, and the Norax people themselves sent a tech with the cage. He set it up and brought in the food and a diet list for Mura.”
“He set up the cage,” repeated Jellico thoughtfully. The captain raised his hand and set it against the wall above the cage. “Did he pick this particular spot?”
Dane tried to remember. The tech had come on board with two men carrying the cage. Had he picked the place? No, not exactly, and Mura had the answer.
“No, sir. I said here—easier to keep an eye on the
animals. But I don’t understand. The female—she had a month yet to go. The kits were to be born on Trewsworld.”
Captain Jellico slapped the bulkhead behind the cage almost as if he were testing its solid substance.
“Treasure hold below right here,” he said. But Dane could see no connection between that and the weird behavior of a pair of brachs—other than that this whole voyage was one mystery after another.
Jellico did not explain. Instead, he hunkered down and asked Mura to explain the details of the fastening. Then Ya came to set up the improvised snooper, which, to Dane’s mystification, the captain insisted be concealed from the inhabitant of the cage so that, when the brach awoke, he would not know he was under observation, as if the animal was now a criminal suspect.
All arranged to his satisfaction, Jellico gave a final order to leave the animal alone and for all of them to keep away as much as possible from the cage. Dane, after giving a last look at the peacefully sleeping creature, which, even now, he could hardly believe tried to beam him with his own weapon, went back to his cabin, stretched on his bunk, and tried vainly to make sense of what had happened. He had been through crises before on the Queen, but never had there been so inexplicable a series of happenings. Animals that acted with intelligence, a dead man wearing his face, the alien woman—it was as fantastic as a tridee story tape.
Video—what did the captain expect to pick up by the snooper? What of Mura’s suggestion that the brach had been conditioned to attack a man? That such a thing was possible was not beyond the bounds of possibility.
Dane rolled off the bunk and went to look up the record of the brach shipment. It was very straightforward, just as he remembered—two brachs, male and female, consigned from the Norax lab on Xecho to the Simplex Ag station on Trewsworld. He had every permit filled out correctly, and unless someone had spent a fortune for forgeries, it was as it should be.
Nevertheless, he pulled out that tape and ran it through for duplication. He had just finished when the com gave an alerting whistle.
“Screen,” came Jellico’s voice. Dane reached up and triggered the small video screen.
4.TROUBLE FLIGHT
The short corridor and the brach cage flashed into view. The brach was on its feet, its head turning from side to side as if in search of something. Then, showing more intense emotion than Dane would have thought possible for those notoriously amiable creatures, it flung itself at the door of the cage, grasped bar and netting with its paws, and shook them vigorously, as if by that exertion it could tear its way to liberty.
However, its frenzy did not last long. After a moment or two of battering, it squatted back on its haunches, its gaze fixed on the immovable barrier. Its attitude was, Dane thought, if he did not know that was impossible, that of an intelligent consideration of the situation, a pause to plan.
It approached the barrier opening again, inserted one paw as far as it could through the open spaces, and explored by touch the new fastening. In those seconds of watching, Dane was converted to the idea he had dismissed so summarily after he had gone over the records a second time. The brach had controlled its first reactions of fear or rage or both and was now exploring the possibility of again mastering the locks that held it prisoner.
Mutant? But if so, the Norax people had defaulted on their permissions, and they were too well established a foundation to try anything of the sort. Also, if these had come from the Norax lab, there was no reason why the techs there should not know they were super-super brains of their species. It left one possible explanation: that, in spite of the records, these were not Norax animals but part of a carefully planned deception, as elaborately set up as the intrusion of the dead stranger. The brach and him—was that the combination they should investigate?
Having run its paws over the fastening and been frustrated by the lock there, the brach squatted very still, staring straight at the door that cut it off from freedom. Then, as if it had made up its mind, it turned resolutely to the back of the cage and, using the nose horn, pried up a portion of the soft covering over the floor, thick and padded, devised to protect the animals against ship acceleration and hyper jump. It disclosed a place where one of the wires had been rooted up and broken off. Pick-lock—this was where it had gotten the pick-lock!
Dane watched in fascination. Was it going to try the same thing again? Apparently so, for it strained and pushed the nose horn into the already frayed hole, jerking its head up and down to wear away the stubborn wire. It worked steadily, with a concentration and determination Dane had heretofore equated only with his own scale of life.
At last it had broken off a longer section of the wire. Was that by chance, or did it actually understand that the present lock was farther from its reach than the one it had mastered and that it needed more wire to touch it?
Approaching the door again, it poked the wire through, strove to manipulate the new locking bar, and immediately dropped the wire, leaping away with an upward toss of its head as if both alarmed and hurt. Dane knew that it had received a mild shock rigged to prevent just such action.
Again it squatted, drawn in tightly, shaking its paw. Then, holding it tight to its chest, it extended a pale tongue and licked the clawed digits as if to soothe them, though Dane knew that the shock was mild, for a warning, and would not hurt. They had certainly now seen enough to know they were dealing with no ordinary brach.
“Captain!” The com gave out Tau’s call. “Sick bay if you please!”
What now? Dane got up. Tau had called for the captain, but if there was some difficulty about the female brach, it was his responsibility, she being part of the cargo under his nominal control. He was going, too.
Jellico was already in the sick bay as Dane came to the door. But neither he nor the medic looked up as the assistant cargo master joined them. They were gazing down rather at an improvised nest in which lay the female brach, inert, so that for an anxious moment or two Dane thought she was dead. There were two small bundles of fur lifting small heads high. Though their eyes were closed, their noses were sniffing as if they were trying to scent some necessary odor.
Dane had seen two very young kits at the lab on Xecho when he had gone to make the arrangements for shipping the pair, but he had not seen them this young. Still, compared with the adult brach they were now nosing, there was something odd about them.
“Mutants?” Was Jellico asking that question of himself or of Tau. “They—well, maybe just after birth they—”
“See here.” Tau turned, not to the squirming kits but to a box set at one end of the nest. There was a dial on its surface, and there a needle swung back and forth. “Radiation, radiation. And I can’t swear to their being mutants, but it is plain that they do differ from their mother in some ways. There is a bigger brain casing— and they are remarkably alert and active for just-born kits. I’m no vet, and I don’t know too much except the general information, but I’d say that they are very well developed for premature births, and they are off their general species pattern.”
“Radiation!” Dane caught the word that meant the most to him. He was not given to many flashes of foreboding, insight, or what the emotion might be named that struck him now, but he was sure of disaster. Without another look at the newborn brach he demanded of Tau, “Is that portable?” He pointed to the box in the nest.
“Why?”
But the captain had seemingly caught Dane’s train of thought. “If it isn’t, we’ll have one that is!” He laid hand on the box while the medic stared at them as if they had suddenly developed space fever.
Then Jellico was at the com. “Ya, bring down a planet-side detect!”
With that Tau understood. “Radiation—in the ship! But—”
There were no buts about it as far as Dane was concerned. If what he suspected was true, then all the bits of the puzzle began to fall into place. The stranger would have brought it aboard, hidden it too well for their first search of the treasure hold, and—as Jellico had pointed out�
��the brach cage was above that.
Now he asked of Tau, “Damaging to the crew?”
“No. I tested for that, though maybe the brachs should be put in isolation. This beam is off the known
scale—”
“But what of the lathsmer embryos?” Again Dane’s speculation followed a logical course, and he was on his way to the treasure hold without waiting to hear Tau’s reply.
He pried off the seal he had thought such a protection for their cargo just as the captain arrived, Tau, Shannon, and Ya behind Jellico. Ya held the box meant to be carried on the belt of a planet-side explorer. Tau took it from him and made some adjustment. He had no more than done so when its tell-tale needle began the same swing as the one in sick bay.
They entered the hold. It took only seconds for the detect to show that what they hunted did lie in the direction of the embryo boxes—not among them, nor behind them where they had painstakingly searched earlier, but overhead. Dane jerked out some of the shelf panels not in use and, with that for a ladder, climbed above the containers. Jellico handed him the detect.
It registered wildly at a point on the ceiling, and this close Dane could see scratches there.
“Behind here.” He passed down the detect and brought out a small cutter from a belt sling. Not trying to be gentle about the plate, he set to work to pry loose the section that must have been cut out and reset. He
gouged at it until it loosened and fell out. There was a pocket there just large enough to hold a box, the box the probe had recalled to his mind.