“Couldn’t you just have patched me through using a viewing field?” He stood up and stretched. Tuesday had been a long day. They had arrived at the location given them by the Free Enterprise, but there had been no sign of the Bailero, their promised payment for taking Judy to Earth. The ensuing search had done nothing for anyone’s temper, particularly with the Petersburg ’s warnings as to the danger of this region still ringing in their ears.
Then there had been the totally bizarre events that afternoon when the active suits had suddenly broken free from the crates in the small hold and started marching through the ship, looking for all the world like a drunken mob of pajamas, searching for somewhere to store themselves. They had marched up and down the corridors, badly frightening Miss Rose, until Edward, of all people, had thought of showing them through to the lockers near the living area.
By the evening Saskia had become so edgy that Maurice had chosen to take his meal to his own room. Anything to avoid the tension that had built up yet again in the ship’s communal areas.
“What?” he said, noting the way Saskia was scowling at his black passive suit.
“Since when did you wear black?” she asked. “Trying to be like Judy now, are we?” She let her hair drop forward over her eyes and continued in her quiet voice, “Look, we all need to be together to discuss this. It’s…odd. Come on.”
She walked to the door and from there took a long look around Maurice’s neatly ordered quarters.
“I’ve never been in here before,” she said hesitantly. “You’ve got so many things.”
She placed a hand on one of several carbon-bladed knives that were displayed on a shelf near the door, then glanced up at the 3D pictures of venumbs that were hung on the wall above them, all bright and alive. She gazed at the red thorns and rich dark bark, examined the silver metal joints. She did look different, thought Maurice, but why?
Suddenly, she looked as though she remembered why she was there. “Come on,” she repeated, and walked from the room.
Edward sat in the conference room, his hands covering his face, his feet on his chair so that his knees were drawn up to his chest.
“I don’t like them,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” snapped Saskia, striding into the room.
“That’s not going to calm him down, is it?” said Judy, quite reasonably. She placed a reassuring hand on the big man’s shoulder and said something softly that Maurice couldn’t hear. The cause of Edward’s distress could be seen floating in a viewing field above the table.
“What are they?” asked Maurice.
“We don’t know,” admitted Judy. “Neither does Aleph.”
She pointed to a viewing field, where the systems repair robot they had picked up from the Petersburg could be seen clinging to the hull of their ship. Aleph gave Maurice a cheery wave. Maurice gave a halfhearted wave in return as he moved closer to the images. They reminded him of flowers: they were all the same size and shape, roughly spherical. Their surfaces were spectacularly colored, bursts of yellow and red and orange tangled around each other in fractally entwined patterns that deepened to a dark rose at a focus. Maurice understood why Edward seemed so frightened. The patterns on those flowers were unnerving: they gave the impression that they were looking straight at you. To conceal his uneasiness, Maurice pulled out his console and brought up a scale reading. The flowers registered as just over thirty centimeters in diameter. He called up a topographical mapping.
“The readings suggest that they are not completely spherical,” he announced. “There is an indentation at the other side of these objects. They’re hollow. So what’s inside?”
“We don’t know,” said Saskia. “They’re turning so as to face us as we travel. It’s like they are always keeping their back to us, not letting us see what they’re hiding.”
Maurice rubbed his chin. “Oh. I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”
“Neither has Aleph,” said Judy.
“I don’t like them,” Edward repeated. He noted Saskia’s glare. “They’re not right,” he whined. “They’re alien!”
Judy rubbed his arm gently and spoke to him in a voice learned from Social Care.
“Edward, they’re not alien. Aleph says so.”
“Aleph is an alien himself! Why should we believe him?”
“There are no such things as aliens,” Saskia snapped, looking painfully thin and bristling with nerves. “I already told you that. We have never found aliens on any of the planets we’ve visited, and humans have traveled a very long way. Aleph is just a systems repair robot.”
“Easy, Saskia,” said Maurice. “Hmm, has there been any sign of the Bailero yet?”
“Of course not.” Saskia was scathing. “We got stiffed again.”
Maurice tapped at his console. “We’re in the middle of empty space,” he said thoughtfully. “The closest star is over three parsecs away. Hmmm, if I were an AI escaping from Earth on a Warp Ship, this would be just the place I would choose to hide. Right where no one ever comes.”
“Hide maybe,” said Saskia irritably, “but not a very good place to build an empire from. There are no raw materials out here. The Free Enterprise said it was manufactured by the Bailero. Out of what, though?”
“I don’t know,” said Maurice. He gestured at the orange-red eyes of the flowers. “Maybe out of those things. Are there any more of them around?”
“Not that we know of.”
Maurice concentrated on his console. The space flowers—or whatever they were—were about two hundred kilometers distant. The Eva Rye was currently at rest relative to them. He checked back on the search pattern that he had programmed: a three-dimensional spiral that swept out a path through a volume of space that was covered by the limits of the ship’s senses. Long-distance senses had picked up the flowers from nine hundred kilometers back and had watched them closely as the ship slowed to a halt. The flowers had turned to watch the Eva Rye right back.
“Odd,” said Maurice. “I wonder what they are hiding inside? Let’s try and catch them out. Aleph?”
“Hi, Maurice.”
“I’m going to take the Eva Rye up and over to the other side of those things. Why don’t you let go of our hull and just stay floating here? If they turn to follow us, you might then get a look at what they’re concealing.”
“Maurice,” said Aleph reprovingly, “that wasn’t part of our contract.”
“Aleph, there should be an antique Warp Ship waiting here for us, payment for taking Judy to Earth. Instead we have found space flowers. Look at it this way, if there is no ship, there is no contract, so we will not be going to Earth.”
“There’ll be a ship,” said Judy resignedly.
Saskia glared at her. Maurice ignored them.
“Help us, Aleph, and we’ll soon be on our way.”
“Oh, very well. I’m letting go of your hull. Off you go now.”
Maurice’s fingers danced across his console. “Where’s Miss Rose?” he asked casually.
“In her room, of course,” said Saskia. “This is just wasting fuel, you know.”
“Well, what do you suggest? Should we just ignore those things and sit here waiting for the Bailero to turn up of its own accord?”
Saskia said nothing to that.
“Fuel?” said Judy suddenly, her head tilted to the side. “The Eva Rye uses fuel?”
“Oh, yes,” said Saskia bitterly. “That’s part of the FE deal. Apparently use of such things as AIs and VNMs and unlimited engine range only gives us the idea that we can get something for nothing. That’s contrary to the FE philosophy. Though, of course, in our case we seem to get nothing for something every time we do a deal….”
Saskia sensed that she had lost her audience’s interest. She took a green apple from the white bowl in the center of the table, and crunched on it noisily as the Eva Rye began to move.
“I don’t like this,” Edward moaned. “I don’t like this!”
“Shh,” said
Judy.
“The Petersburg did warn us,” complained Saskia, but Maurice tuned her out. They watched the flowers intently. The red and yellow and orange blooms hung there, apparently motionless.
“They’re turning to follow us,” said Maurice. “They’re still trying to conceal their contents. Aleph, what can you see?”
“Nothing as yet,” said Aleph. “Keep going. I can see them turning. They are…Oh, damn!”
The crew of the Eva Rye saw it happening at the same time. The flowers seemed to move together, their hidden mouths joining together to kiss and conceal.
“Now what?” said Saskia.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
“I suppose,” said Maurice, “we could go in and pick one up. Take a proper look at it.”
“No!” said Edward, gripping the soft white leather of the seat arm. “Let’s leave them alone. I don’t like them!”
“Don’t be so—” began Saskia.
“Hold on,” Judy interrupted. “Why don’t you like them?”
“Because,” said Edward. “Because they’re scary.”
“Hmm,” Judy said, “didn’t the Stranger tell you that Edward should be in charge? I wonder if the reason that you do so badly on Fair Exchanges is because you don’t actually take your payment.”
Saskia made a hissing noise. “Maurice,” she said, brushing her aubergine hair away from her face. “You really want to pick one up?”
“I think so. What do you think, Judy?”
Judy turned from comforting Edward. How can she keep so calm , Maurice wondered. Look at her with her porcelain face and her tranquil black body. Her words are so still, not like when Saskia speaks. When Saskia speaks it’s like this nagging little draft on the back of the neck, but with Judy the words are just there precisely, like letters on a page. Like everything has already been decided and spoken.
“I told you before, Maurice,” said Judy, “I’m just a passenger here. Besides, what will be, will be. Someone has mapped out my life for me.”
Maurice held her dark gaze. “You mean Chris, the all-powerful AI? Or maybe his sidekick, Kevin?”
Judy didn’t blink. She just continued to stare at him, like he was a talking box or a dummy with a speaker wired to its jaw.
“Fine,” he said, feeling badly unsettled by her gaze. “That’s it, then. One against, Saskia and I are for it. Okay, we’re going in. Sorry, Edward. We’ll pick up one of them in the little hold.”
His fingers danced across his console. Edward drummed his feet fearfully on the chair’s legs.
Judy stepped across the knot in the gravity at the junction of five corridors and disappeared around the corner, heading down towards the little hold. Saskia hung back to speak to Maurice.
“What do you think about Judy?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” said Maurice guardedly. “Did you see the way she looked at me back then? Like she was a nonsentient robot. It’s like she measures your emotions, she doesn’t react to them.”
“I don’t know,” said Saskia, face now hidden by her hair. “I think that, beneath all that stillness and controlled emotion, the pressure is building up. I don’t think she can keep it all in check for much longer.”
“She’s frightened by something—that AI she mentioned: Chris. I think she’s watching herself all of the time, checking to see if she is changing. She’s wondering if she’s going to suddenly just let go and change all her opinions, just like Chris told her she would do.”
Saskia wasn’t listening anymore. She placed a hand on Maurice’s arm, and he looked down at it, surprised. “Listen,” she said urgently, but Judy had reappeared, peeping around the odd angle of the corner, her body like a reflection in a pool.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” Saskia said, and she headed off, leaving Maurice standing alone.
Judy waited by the black-and-white mosaic frame of the door to the little hold. Saskia glared for a moment at the black-and-white woman, and then she turned and made a show of tapping on the door to the little hold and bringing up an external picture.
A deduced scene sprang to life, built up from the Eva Rye ’s sense range. It showed the ship sliding slowly forward, the door to the little hold sliding smoothly open, halfway along the curve of the ship’s teardrop hull. Saskia zoomed in and they saw three space flowers being eaten up by the ship, like little orange mints. The inside of the hold had folded up on itself, walls and floors sliding around each other in complicated origami patterns. Black night could be seen through the main hatchway.
“I’ll catch them in the dead zone at the middle of the hold,” said Maurice thoughtfully. “They might not be able to take full gravity.”
They watched as the little hold’s external door closed, and then smiled at the elegant way in which the internal floors and walls rearranged themselves into a cube. The floor slid into place last, and they felt a click deep within the ship.
“Okay,” said Maurice, “it’s safe to enter.”
There was a small pop as the door slid open, and they paused a moment. There was a slight chill to the air beyond, meaning some heat had leaked into space across the pressure curtain. They could smell apples.
“Okay,” said Saskia, “follow me.”
Judy had already set off, and Saskia hurried to get ahead of her. Maurice followed as they half walked, half raced across the black-and-white floor of the little hold towards the center of the room. They looked up to see the three orange space flowers hanging in the air above, backs still turned determinedly away from them.
Saskia tapped at her console and a viewing platform began to unfold itself from the floor. Maurice staggered, momentarily off balance, as it lifted the three of them into the air.
“Give us some warning next time,” he complained, but Saskia made no reply, lost in contemplation of the flowers. Maurice felt his anger quickly disappear. He wanted to reach out to touch the spheres as they glided towards them. They really were beautiful: sunshine yellow wove glorious patterns through iridescent orange flames and the deep crimson heart of the pattern shone like blood from a broken heart. The platform rose higher and he felt a familiar wave of nausea as his head and then his shoulders entered the dead zone.
“That pattern,” said Maurice. “You could almost think it’s alive.” He reached out to touch a sphere, half hypnotized. “Do you think—Hey, what’s that?”
They all heard it at the same time. The flowers were humming.
“Are they moving—?” began Saskia at the same time Maurice swore.
“Oh, shit!” The flowers were accelerating. Sliding out of the dead zone. Into the region of gravity. Slowly at first, but with a sickening gathering of pace, the three spheres fell to the ground. As gravity was coming from six directions, they chose three different ways to fall. The three people on the platform watched three different spheres as they fell to three different floors, bounced, and then rolled to a halt.
“What have you done?” whispered Saskia hoarsely.
“It was a lure!” said Maurice. He bashed at his console, instructing the viewing platform to descend again. Judy was speaking in low tones, calm tones.
“They wanted to draw us in. Like the Dark Seeds. They were getting our attention!”
“What’s going on?” asked Saskia, eyes wide with fear. The three spheres lay in three directions: one on the ground below, one above, and one to the side of them. They had rolled onto their backs so they could at last see what was contained inside of them. From one sphere, a silver strand of metal pushed its way out into the hold. A silver spider emerged into the light, then quickly scuttled away. Then another. Then another.
Silver spiders went scuttling in every direction.
“Trojans!” croaked Maurice. “Those VNMs have tricked their way on board!”
Each sphere contained three spiders. They split up, skittering from view as quickly as possible. Maurice slapped his forehead. “How stupid would you have to be to ta
ke an unknown self-replicator on your ship!” he shouted angrily. “They tricked us.”
Judy stood in front of him and held his gaze. “Maurice,” she said in a calm voice. He glared at her.
“Maurice,” she repeated, “calm youself. Center yourself. Activate the ship’s countermeasures.”
“Countermeasures? What countermeasures? This is a fucking FE ship! What countermeasures, exactly, do you think we have on board? Photon-fucking-torpedoes?”
The VNMs had vanished, Maurice could not see where. He spotted two black tiles pulled out from the pattern covering the six floors. The VNMs had found their way out of the hold. They could be replicating already, using the fabric of the Eva Rye to make copies of themselves.
“Oh, hell,” said Saskia, holding herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body. “What’s going on? What are you going to do?”
Judy closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating, and then she found her voice.
“Both of you, relax,” she commanded. Despite themselves, Maurice and Saskia did so. Judy seemed to be growing in stature.
She rounded on Maurice. “Now, Maurice, think. What can we do?”
Maurice gazed into her big black eyes, their warmth heightened by contrast to her porcelain doll face and a sense of calm and control seeped through his body. Yes. Breathe deep. Yes. Stay calm and an answer would present itself. He blinked and allowed his mind to wander free. Yes. Breathe and calm. Breathe and calm. Now, what were they to do…?
“I…I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “I don’t know! I can’t think of anything!” He felt the panic that Judy had just quelled rising once more inside him. “I really don’t know! The AIs usually handle this sort of thing. Transmit friendly protocols or reprogram the VNMs? Release counter VNMs?” His voice was hollow. “We haven’t got an AI on board. We haven’t got anything like that on board!”
“Oh, hell!” breathed Saskia. “Look!”
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