by Rick Cook
Besides, he admitted as he bounded along the corridor, what other chance do we have?
Things have changed, Sharon Dolan thought as her eyes swept over the crowded lounge. The room had been opened up to three times its normal size, but it was still jammed. Nearly everyone on the ship was here to honor the rescued captives.
Over in one corner the pilot of the rescue ship was surrounded by a crowd of admirers who seemed to be hanging on her words. At the far end of the room she could see Billy Toyoda in animated conversation.
It was hard to put your finger on the differences. The crowd seemed leaner, somehow harder, than the people she had travelled without from Earth. Everyone was having a good time, but there was a seriousness about them that she didn’t remember seeing before.
Well, she thought, I’ve changed too.
She saw Captain Jenkins coming through the crowd. Heads turned and people drew back to make room for him so he moved in his own bubble of space. Now that is really different, she thought.
Since she had been back, she had heard almost nothing about the Ship’s Council, but she had heard a lot about the captain.
No one seemed to mind, she noticed. There was no trace of hostility toward the captain or the crew and none of the tension between crew and non-crew that had been so marked when she left. Everyone seemed to be mixing and having a good time as if there had never been any differences.
Almost everyone, anyway. Father Simon was sitting in the corner, looking almost as worn and stressed as he had been in captivity. The others had bounced back, at least superficially, but the priest still looked as if something were dreadfully wrong.
Sharon started toward him, but at that moment the captain came up to her.
“Welcome back, Dr. Dolan.” Was it her imagination, or was the greeting just a shade warmer than it had been for the other captives?
“Thank you, Captain,” Sharon replied equally warmly. “Believe me, it’s a pleasure to be back.”
Captain Peter Jenkins smiled. In his own way, his smile was just as infectious as Autro DeLorenzo’s had been, Sharon thought. She smiled back with what she hoped was the right degree of warmth.
“It is very good to be back with friends,” she said.
“We believe that God, in His infinite love, is concerned with every being,” the image on the wall said. “First and foremost, He is a personal God who sent His son to die for all intelligent beings.”
The Master of Cities for the Council President flicked a switch and Father Simon vanished in mid-word.
What an odd belief, the Master of Cities thought moodily as he stared unseeing at the blank wall. That Heaven controlled the lives of all beings just as it controlled the motions of the planets and colonies, he could accept. That was an old, old belief among his species. But this . . .
The Master of Cities prided himself on being a seeker of truth. He had sampled many philosophies and been initiated into many cults in his lifetime. Here was something strange and new. A combination with pieces taken from both cult and philosophy, blending and integrating them into an odd, alien notion.
And yet, was it such an odd belief after all? We’re not intelligent beings an integral part of the universe? And other thinkers had speculated that the symmetries and regularities of the universe could be best explained by some intelligent guiding principle. And if all that were so, was it so far-fetched that this intelligence should take interest in individual beings?
The Master of Cities rose from the seating sling and began to pace. Yes, the Warden had been right. This was no ordinary cult leader and certainly no ordinary cult. This had resonances he had never found in a cult or philosophy before.
He sat down again and turned the projector back on.
Far, far out, beyond the last of the gas giants, the signals were received by certain seemingly unremarkable chunks of rock. They were scattered through an enormous area of space where the combination of high inclination orbits, their separation and their composition made them unlikely candidates for exploration or mining.
At the signal, certain mechanisms buried within them went into operation. Slowly the rocks stopped their tumbling as they swung through the heavens. Gradually, and without any outward sign of motive power, they swiveled around until their long axes were pointing inward toward the sun and the ring of fragile colonies that orbited it. Now certain other mechanisms were brought to readiness.
In the space of a few hours, what had once been a typical collection of small asteroids became missiles, each aimed to strike at a different colony. The mighty engines that would accelerate them on their mad dashes into the solar system remained quiescent, awaiting only the final order to start them on a high-acceleration course that would take them to their targets in just a few short days.
Further in, other small objects began to shift their orientation and orbits. The changes were subtle and by themselves meaningless. Taken together they were both meaningful and threatening.
Within the system, other preparations went on. Here a 246 ship suddenly spurted ahead and disappeared from the tracking screens. At another place, spare lasers were taken out of storage, ostensibly to replace units that had failed. Everywhere agents were alerted.
It all went forward in the greatest possible secrecy, but no screen is perfect, especially against beings who have played the game of shadow war for millennia. Most of 246’s moves were undetected, but enough of them were seen that other colonies began their own preparations.
Slowly at first and then with increasing speed, the entire system was converted into an armed camp with everyone on a hair trigger.
“Chaos impends,” the Council President announced as soon as he appeared on the screen.
Jenkins had never seen the Owlie so agitated, even when he had threatened to take the Maxwell away in the dark days after the raid.
“What chaos?” Jenkins asked.
“The orbits move into unpredictable configurations. Outcomes become chaotic. You must prepare to act for your own safety.”
Whatever was going on, the translation software wasn’t doing a very good job with the concepts. This could be a very long session—and an important one, from the way the Council President was acting.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“246 moves to violate the Covenant. They will soon openly apply force against the other colonies.”
“War? You mean 246 is going to attack the other colonies?”
There was a long pause while the computer struggled with the unfamiliar notion.
“That is of a certainty, yes.”
Jenkins checked to make sure DeRosa, Carlotti and Kirchoff were in the circuit. He was going to need advice on this one and he might want to kick in the drive immediately.
“When?”
The Council President hesitated. “Three days. No more.”
“Just a minute.” Jenkins cut the alien out of the circuit and brought the others up on his screen.
“How dangerous would a war be to us?” he asked.
“Assuming we’re not a target, it could still be extremely dangerous,” Carlotti told him. “We don’t know what they would use for weapons, but we do know they have powerful laser batteries on all of those colonies.”
“They also have very efficient mass drivers,” Kirchoff said. “One way to take out one of these colonies would be to hit it with a bunch of high-velocity rocks in close formation. Of course the ones that don’t hit the colony would keep going and there’s a real good chance we’d be in someone’s line of fire.”
“Okay. How fast can we get out of here?”
Kirchoff extended a hand off screen as if toward a button and looked quizzically at the captain.
“Not just yet. But don’t get far from that button, Mr. Kirchoff.” He looked at the others. “Okay. Anything else?” There was nothing, so he cut the Owlie back onto the screen.
“I’m sorry about that. I had to confer with my advisers. Now, is there anything we can do to help? Short
of risking the safety of my ship or my crew, I am willing to do what I can.”
The Owlie relaxed slightly. “We must renegotiate our agreement,” he said.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Iron Alice said.
“Nope,” Jenkins said curtly, “but I hope to hell the Council President does.” He looked up at the indicators across the top of his screen. When they showed all the relays were in place, he reached out and adjusted the microphone. He licked his lips, took a deep breath and began to speak.
“People of Limbo, this is the captain of the human ship Maxwell . . .”
The signal was picked up and relayed again and again. From the solar power stations near the star to the mining installations near the gas giants and out to the hidden bases orbiting in the outer darkness, Captain Peter Jenkins’ words were carried.
“We came to your system in search of knowledge. In spite of certain unfortunate events, knowledge is still our goal. To that end, we have struck a bargain with your Colonial Council.
“We will make you a trade for our star drive, to all the colonies equally in return for your knowledge of space engineering, star catalogs and certain other information from your libraries. In this way we shall both receive what we want.”
Jenkins licked lips gone dry and wished he could take a drink from the water bulb on his console. But the act of drinking might confuse the translation routines concerned with the gestural part of the aliens’ language. He ignored his dry mouth and concentrated on speaking.
“Our terms are simply that we shall make the trade in our home solar system. We are prepared to take the nucleus of a new colony back to our system. There they will be allowed to establish a free colony while they teach us what we would know. At the same time they will be learning about the drive. Not only how to build it, but the physics and mathematics behind it as well. We agree to teach them everything we know about the drive.
“The colony will receive honored status as an equal within our people’s confederation. But the Colonists will not be allowed to leave our system. Instead we will assist them in building an interstellar laser to send the information back to you.
“The message will be sent uncoded for every colony in this system to hear and profit from. Once the information reaches you, our mutual debt is at an end. You will be free to use the drive in any way you see fit.
“We will not return to Limbo until the trade is complete. Instead you will send a colonizing ship out along a path we will give you. Sometime after the ship has left your system, one of our starships will rendezvous with it and carry its crew and cargo faster than light to our home system.”
The news was received everywhere in the system as close to simultaneously as radio communications would allow. On every colony alien ears listened intently to the strange creature and his announcement. Even on Colony 246.
“In this way both of us will gain what we want. Both of us will profit with minimum risk. We will leave soon to prepare the way to fulfill our end of the agreement. May we both profit from it.” With that Jenkins leaned forward and cut the connection. Then he slumped down with a “whoosh.”
Instantly, DeRosa popped up on his screen. “Do they know it’s going to take that laser message over seventy-five years to get here?” Iron Alice asked.
“They know,” he sighed. “Or at least the leaders do. It doesn’t seem to make a lot of difference to them. They take the long view and besides,” he shrugged, “consider the alternative.”
Derfuhrer was standing on the balcony, looking out over the colony when they came for him. He did not turn when ere here when his guards did not announce them.
The Master of Bounds advanced across the room until he stood on the edge of the terrace.
“We have come as representatives of our lineage . . .” he began, but before he could go further, Derfuhrer whirled and leaped at him, talons extended and beak agape. Taken off guard, the Master of Bounds could do no more than flinch away before the great claws opened his belly and took his life.
The Master of Forests did not hesitate. Derfuhrer had barely landed from his spring when the beam from the hand laser darted out and caught him square in the chest. Derfuhrer opened his beak to scream a final challenge, but his lungs were already gone and nothing came out. He tottered for an instant and then fell forward over his still-writhing victim.
The Master of Forests stayed where he was, laser still in hand, as the others crossed to the door to examine the body.
“Well and properly done,” the Master of Seas said as he looked up from the corpse. “The head is untouched.”
The Master of Forests lowered the laser and stared down at the corpse of his ally, leader and sometime friend. He knew he should feel something, but he could feel nothing at all.
PART X: YOSE
Gray.
Gray and vast and gloomy. The low-ceilinged chamber was hewed out of Hasta’s rock. It stretched off to grayness in all directions, lit blood red by the glow of the aliens’ lamps.
One-Eye was there, blood on his feathers and the great gaping wound still fresh in his chest. There were others there too, ranked behind him in shadowy legions.
Behind the dead philosopher the crowd shifted and stirred. “We wait,” One-Eye said. “We wait in Limbo.”
Father Simon woke up bolt upright in bed with the sweat pouring off his body.
It only gets worse, he thought as he waited for his pulse to settle toward normal. He sat alone in the darkness and concentrated on breathing regularly. The display beside his bunk told him it was 2:30 in the morning. He knew from recent experience he would be lucky to get back to sleep tonight.
He threw back the covers, got up and knelt in the darkness at the side of his bed.
Oh Lord, he prayed, show me what You want me to do.
“They say something big is up.”
“Any idea what?” DeRosa asked.
Jenkins shook his head. “All I know is the Council President is very excited about something that happened eight or nine days ago. He said we have to have a representative on Meetpoint in fifteen hours.”
Iron Alice nodded. In the last three days a number of Colonist ships had docked at Meetpoint. All of them had come in on constant velocity drive. Clearly something big was stirring and it had to involve the humans.
“The Council President wants me to come in person.”
“And you’re going?”
“I think it’s safe enough. But I want this ship ready to go into drive at the least little sign of trouble.”
“Are you taking a scooter over?”
“No, a shuttle and one pilot.” He smiled self-consciously. “As befits my dignity. Now take over. I’m going aft for a while.”
DeRosa nodded and Jenkins left the bridge.
Sharon Dolan met him in the corridor.
“I understand you’re going to Meetpoint to meet with the Owlies tomorrow,” she said without preamble.
“That is the plan, yes.”
Sharon bit her lip. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust them.”
“I don’t trust them either. But they have a lot more to lose if something happens to me than we do.”
“They could be planning something tricky. Or just plain crazy.”
“If they are, the most they can gain is one starship captain. Commander DeRosa has orders to yank us out of here at the least little sign of any trouble.”
“I still don’t like it,” Sharon said firmly.
“You think they might figure out a way to grab the ship after all?”
“That.” Then she added more softly. “But mostly I’m worried about you.” She placed her hand gently on his arm.
For a moment, Jenkins couldn’t control his face. Then he smiled and placed his hand over hers, pressing it softly to his bicep. “Dr. Dolan, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss that. But when we get back to Earth, I would be more than happy to take the matter up with
you, if you are still so inclined.”
Sharon smiled back. “You do that, Captain. Meanwhile, be careful.”
Be careful, Jenkins repeated to himself as he shifted in the co-pilot’s chair. Oh yes, he was going to be as careful as he could be—under the circumstances. Beside him, the pilot kept her eyes on her instruments as the golden shape of Meetpoint grew ahead of them. He watched it swell and fidgeted inwardly. He had worn his dress blues for the occasion and the uniform pulled and bound in unfamiliar places.
“I make three Colonial ships there, sir,” the pilot reported from the right-hand seat. “The two that came in last night are directly docked to the station and the one that’s been there a while is laying off a couple of klicks.”
“Any signs of activity?”
“Nossir. The drives of the two new arrivals are hot, but they’re cooling. The other one shows minimal radiation and there are no signs of scooters or smaller vehicles. The docking signal is on at the third port.”
“Then take us in.”
“Is he there yet?” Sharon Dolan asked as she came into the conference room.
“Just docking on the station,” someone told her. “So far, so good.”
All over the ship, men and women were clustered around screens watching the mission to Meetpoint. The group in the conference room was the official evaluation team, the people who would advise the Acting Captain on the significance of what went on.
“I wonder what the hell they are up to,” Carlotti muttered as the group in the conference room watched Meetpoint swell on their screen.
Jenkins swam down the golden corridor alone. The air had a strange tang, very different from the taste of the air on the Maxwell. The air currents in the corridor gently pushed him onward, deeper into the alien space station. He knew that nearly a thousand pairs of eyes were on him through Meetpoint’s video system, but that only increased his aloneness. He had developed a psychosomatic itch between his shoulder blades that wouldn’t go away.