“When we emerged into normal space, we found ourselves nearly a light-year from Haven, and ten light-years from the next known inhabited planet. We could have covered a light year in less than a day in Jump; in normal space, it has taken us two years. It would take us nearly another thirty years to reach the next-closest inhabited planet.”
“You say you're alone,” asked Len, “but you keep saying 'we'. Who is with you?” His tone was suspicious, his expression a scowl.
I smiled. “I'm sorry. I can see where that would be confusing. By 'we', I refer to Lisa, the ship’s artificial intelligence and myself. It is a very advanced computer, and I'm afraid that in my two years of solitude I have come to regard her more as a human than a comp. There are also several dozen robots, mechanical men, if you will. Luckily, even two years is not long enough to begin regarding them as anything but machines.” The answering smiles and chuckles were encouraging.
“These are my top-level choices,” I resumed, “though since arriving at Haven I suspect there might be another: I can try to trade some of our cargo for supplies needed for the trip, and set off for Hadley, the next-closest planet. This would involve going into cold-sleep in a vessel that has already been shown to have defects, so it would be a major leap of faith, and I would risk drifting in space forever.
“My other choice is to remain here, to become a resident of Haven. But that, too, carries risks. I apologize if I offend, but Startrader is crammed with technology hundreds of years in advance of your own. There would be many on Haven willing to kill or torture for such a prize.”
“What kinds of supplies would you need to trade for if you decided to leave?” That was King David.
I shrugged. “Fuel metals, mostly. Platinum, polonium, even palladium hydride. Perhaps some compressed gases. For the rest, mostly food and life support supplies. Nothing beyond Haven's capabilities.
“Actually, though,” I continued, smiling. “I rather like the idea of contributing to the development of an entire planet. People like me seldom have such opportunities. But I would prefer to have a good chance of surviving the experience.”
King David smiled. “We suspect that every scientist on Haven would rebel if we did not at least explore the possibility. You talk in great generalities. What, specifically, can you offer our planet?”
I nodded. “Startrader contains over 50,000 tonnes of general cargo. I'm sure that we can eventually find uses for nearly all of it. More important, we can offer information. Lisa contains over a million volumes of bookfiles and more thousands of vids, those are pictures that move, on nearly any subject. It might take a few years, but I'm sure that with Lisa's help, your scientists can produce devices capable of reading those files.
“Majesty, mistress, gentles,” I continued, “the tablets you have been given are much more than communications devices. In fact, communication is a minor feature of a tablet. The tablet is actually a computer, capable of reading those files I mentioned. I have programmed them with files I think your scientists will find interesting. Think of them as 'samples', if you like.
“For instance, I have noted the smoke and dirt plaguing your cities. Power is the lifeblood of civilization, but steam boilers are dirty, dangerous, and labor-intensive. In a few years, it may be possible to completely eliminate those effects. With my help, it should be possible to build and deploy solar power satellites. Satellites are objects that orbit the planet in space, like your moons or this ship. Solar power satellites would collect and convert the energy of the sun into electricity, which can be transmitted, much as the tablets are transmitting our images. Your tablets contain several designs for both satellites and receivers.
“President Curran, President Tyree, Prime Minister Crapen, Mr. Kanner, you should be especially interested in the bookfiles describing power systems for farms and ranches. For instance, generating fuel from garbage and animal wastes.” They were; all of them straightened, and they looked at the tablets with sudden renewed interest. “They also include a number of other bookfiles I thought would be of interest.” I added. I looked straight at Len. “I can also offer each of you one additional tablet, which you can use to get the bookfiles copied or printed.”
Then I dropped the other shoe. “Finally,” I said, “I can give you access to orbit. My robots are still exploring Adventurer, and examining her systems. But it appears that she was shut down properly, and that gives both me and your planet my final option. It may be possible to get Adventurer operational again. Haven may regain contact with the stars!”
Eyes widened, expressions became dazed. I didn't bother to mention that if we could get the old ship running, I'd be able to get to Hadley in a lot less than 30 years!
And it wasn't just a sales job. At just over 500 years old, Adventurer wouldn't be the oldest ship in operation, though there were few that old. I hadn't looked at her log that carefully, so I didn't know how old she was when she came here; but the old girl could have a few years left in her. After all, she'd been stored in vacuum.
It didn't take much longer before talk turned to the practicalities of my remaining on Haven.
Len snorted. “Ridiculous. This man is nothing but a trader, an itinerant peddler. His safety is his own concern. It is certainly not ours.”
King David smiled and shook his head. “I disagree. If his vessel contains over a million volumes, there is certain to be weapons information, or information that could be used to build weapons. Our first true war would not be beyond possibility. I would say that his safety and security are of much importance to us all.”
“I agree,” said President Tyree of Cornwell. He looked nervous. I suspected that Cornwell was number one on Cellia's hit list. “This man has the capability of totally disrupting civilization on Haven. I think we all have a vested interest in protecting him as long as he is here.”
All of them invited me to their countries, even Len, who suddenly became all smiles and oily salesmanship.
I shook my head. “I apologize in advance for my bluntness, Majesty, mistress, gentles, but I am no diplomat. There are those who would risk war to gain control of me and Startrader,” I said, looking straight at Len. I found it significant that none of them argued the point. We got down to business, considering options and proposals.
I had some serious considerations. I wanted to be as far as possible from Cellia, of course. Still, I would want to be in easy reach of all the major countries, which meant the western continent.
Finally, New Home and Cornwell each agreed to release 1000 hectares of wilderness land to create an 'international zone' straddling their borders about a hundred kilometers from the seacoast, which would include a landing field for space-to-ground vehicles and airships, warehouse space, and a residence for me. Eventually, a rail line would reach to the coast. Each of the nations would contribute to a guard force, whose command would rotate between them. I wished I could have left Cellia out of that, but it was impossible, of course.
I'd have the robots, naturally. But I was lonely! I was going to want people around. Of course, if I tried to hire people, they were almost certain to be secret police or agents of one or another of the countries. So, I had decided to formalize it. Besides, this way I could make them pay for it.
“I know that all of you are going to want to watch me, make sure I'm not cheating or making under-the-table deals, or just to track who's doing what. So, I propose that each nation provide me with two 'servants' or 'assistants', selected by you. I have no objections to reasonable surveillance; after all, it's for my protection. This way, your agents need not pretend to be anything else.” I grinned. “Young, attractive, female agents preferred, of course.”
Ada Curran was the only one to look embarrassed. King David chuckled. Ran Tyree and Howed Kanner grinned. Jon Crapen offered a mild smile. Len was stone-faced. But they all agreed.
Of course, I made it clear that in case of my death, Lisa had been given the order to self-destruct. It was essential that they all understand that killing
me would lose them everything.
While New Home and Cornwell were running the new “international zone” through their bureaucracies, Lisa and I were making plans of our own. I was wondering if I could use Adventurer.
Lisa had schematics and operations manuals for Adventurer’s class of vessel in her history files. Luckily, her main fusactor was an old-fashioned nickel-fueled unit; Lisa carried over ten tonnes of nickel in her cargo. I activated several of the servitor robots in the cargo, and had them fuel the big ship. A lot of trouble, but I hoped it might be worth it.
Except for the final power failure, Adventurer had been carefully shut down by her crew, and merely needed routine activation. Once the fusactor came on line, the ship’s comp began orbital adjustments, while I tried to check on the ship’s status.
But Adventurer’s comp was stubborn, and refused to give me lading information, or nearly any other operational information. I assumed that Lisa could eventually break the security, but there was no “classified” information that I needed that badly.
It was a bit of a puzzle. Lisa told me that standard procedure for a colony ship involved the colonists building a landing cradle and grounding the ship. Once down, of course, she could never rise again, but her cargo would be more easily accessible, and her comp would serve the colony for more than a century. Why was she still in orbit?
Adventurer’s tanks still contained quite a bit of breathing air, and even some food items, though not a lot. “Foods in vacuum packaging should be usable,” Lisa reminded me, “but food that had been frozen when the ship was shut down would constitute a risk. It is possible that some of them partially thawed before refreezing in the cold of space. Besides,” she added, “food is an immensely valuable resource in a newly-established colony. Any that was abandoned should be regarded with suspicion.”
The good news was that her jump drive reported full functionality.
As soon as the nations formalized the location of the International Zone, Lisa adjusted her orbit to be geostationary; she would remain overhead all the time, and be able to use her sensors to detect possible intruders long before they arrived.
I had no doubt that Len had commando teams on alert, already rehearsing the invasion of the compound. We also made contingency plans in case they succeeded. In the med bay, a robot that Lisa swore was a qualified med ‘bot implanted a transceiver into my mastoid bone that would let us communicate invisibly, and show my position on the planet. Lisa located several power receivers in the cargo, and had a team of robots put two of them aboard a cargo lifter. With plenty of fuel metal and no one aboard, Lisa had plenty of power to beam down. One of them would provide power for the compound. For the other, we would have a heavy wire fence built, and Lisa would charge it with 10,000 volts. A separate fence, controlled by Lisa, would surround the power receivers themselves. No one inside was going to shut down the power, either, if we could help it!
The fence wouldn't need a gate; no roads would lead to the compound. The only practical way in or out was by air, and there would be no long runway for the crude “aeroplanes” beginning to appear in Haven's skies. So even if Len packed his guard detail with a kidnap commando, they wouldn't be able to get me out without Lisa knowing, tracking them, and yelling for help. Airships are slow; there was little chance they could make it back to Cellia without being intercepted. Of course, that would simply result in a standoff situation, with me in the middle. But we could only do the possible. The land around the site was scrub, which was why they were so willing to deed it over. It was mostly low and swampy, but a series of low hills near the center of the site were solid. I shook my head. It would have made a great prison. But I had the Captain's Gig, two lifeboats, and four cargo lifters to get me out, as well as several crated helis and flitters in the hold.
I wanted to go down as soon as both countries had approved the site, and again when the first building materials were airlifted in, but both times Lisa talked me out of it. She was right, of course. Why make it easy for Len or King David? Besides, Lisa and I were doing some serious planning. Still, the tension was almost unbearable. I'd been in solitary, with only Lisa and some robots for company, for two years, and I was almost dancing with impatience. And I'd hinted that the 'assistants' should be young, attractive females.
I had them submit the plans for the buildings to me, and Lisa and I analyzed them for hidden passages, listening posts, and priest's holes before okaying them. Lisa would keep the plans in memory, of course, and carefully monitor construction. I would be notified immediately of any deviations from the plans.
The main building would have three stories, though only two of them would be living spaces. The third would be a quick-setup dome from Startrader's emergency supplies. It would serve as a hangar for one of Startrader's lifeboats with its med cabinet and its robot pilot. Strategically located demo charges would make sure we could make a fast exit, if necessary. The only access was by a ladder and trapdoor from my bedroom, leading directly into the hangar. The dome had no door, nor did it need one; the rest of the roof was mined with demo charges and rocket flares. The latter would ignite the highly flammable hydrogen of an airship, and the former would make things difficult for troops lowered to the roof, as well as blow away the dome for my escape.
For most of the rest of the building, I decided it would be more diplomatic to use Haven designs and construction. Besides, I couldn't make it too difficult for the agents to do their jobs.
Of course, Lisa would not be able to detect the web of listening tubes I expected them to install during construction. I would just have to locate and plug those in areas I wanted secure. But I'd leave most of them. If the various agents couldn't report on eavesdropped conversations, they'd be forced to resort to riskier, more imaginative ways; and if one of them did something I couldn't ignore, it could lead to an international incident. Better they be able to make their routine reports without interference.
The robots, under Lisa's control, would put the final additions on the residence and the agents' quarters. Including, of course, the lighting and power systems. I claimed that Haven electricians wouldn't understand beamed power systems or how to install them. That permitted the robots to install a few interesting surprises, including surveillance cameras and painting the rooms in bright, gay colors. Whitewash and wallpaper were more common wall coverings on Haven, but apparently, their surviving technology did not include painted-film circuits. While they were watching us and reporting, we'd be watching them and listening to their reports. It took over three months before all was in readiness.
All this obsession with security was not purely the result of theoretical threats. Even before I’d opened communications with the planet, there had been demonstrations and even a few small riots protesting my presence, and demanding that ‘the invader’ be driven away’. No one, including the governments, had any idea how that might be accomplished, but there were many loud, strident demands that the governments ‘do something’. It wasn’t confined to one nation, either. In fact, the only nation that seemed free of these factions was Refuge, presumably because of its anarchist tendencies.
My initial contacts had been, I hoped, reassuring, at least to the governments. To a certain segment of the population, though, my presence signaled the end of their world as they knew it, and they were ready to die to remove this threat from Haven. As construction proceeded there seemed to be a never-ending series of radio speeches and ‘discussions’ that grew increasingly hostile. If we hadn’t had the foresight to make the ‘International Zone’ so inaccessible, I suspect we’d have been constantly besieged by pickets.
I’d even tried giving radio interviews to a couple of networks. One of them was, if not friendly, then at least courteous. The other, though, had recorded the interview and edited it viciously, changing questions, removing context, and in general making me look like a madman determined to take over the world.
I decided I’d better leave the politics to the politicians. They knew their
people much better than I did, and knew much better how to deal with them.
“I’d better be armed when I go down,” I decided, as the day approached. “Especially since my ‘security force’ is armed with revolvers and those slow-loading ‘rifle’ things. Do you have an armory, Lisa?”
“I am sorry, sir, but that information is classified. It will be necessary for you to assume Command status. Please press your thumb to the contact pad on the Captain’s bridge chair.”
I could feel my eyebrows rise. “Lisa, I am the only human aboard.”
“I am aware of that sir; however my security programming is inflexible.”
I gave a huge sigh, but walked out of the Captain’s quarters onto the bridge, and pressed my thumb to the pad.
“Thank you, Captain,” Lisa said in rather mechanical tones. “The armory is accessible through the wardroom pantry. It will require a retinal identification.”
This time I chuckled. I could just imagine the Captain, trying to battle a mutiny, having to go through all this to get weapons for his loyalists. Some people have strange ideas about weapons.
The armory was actually a small closet, containing two shoulder lasers, two shoulder-model blasters, four flechetters, sawed off eight gauge shotguns configured to fire ammunition containing fifteen hardened needles with collapsible wings. They were only good to about seven meters, but inside that, they would chew an attacker, or attackers, to hamburger. There were also two dozen hand lasers and another two dozen hand blasters, a large supply of sonic and flash grenades, and two dozen fighting knives. There were an array of belts, holsters, and ammunition. At the bottom, there were three small boxes. These probably belonged to crewmen. Weapons weren’t forbidden on ships, but they were required to be kept in the armory except when checked out for use. I examined the ornately carved real wood box first. With a box that expensive, the weapon must be something special.
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