by B. V. Larson
I returned to find Claver kicking through pieces of library.
“You mean something like this one?” I grinned. “The Eaters of Lotus?”
Claver waved a hand in my face.
“No,” he said, “don’t be so pleased with yourself. I’ve read all about that Greek nonsense. It’s too old. How could the ancients know anything useful about the Mogwa, even if they did meet them by some chance so long ago?”
“This isn’t about ancient Greeks. It’s by Weinbaum, written in the 1930s.”
Frowning, he snatched the book from my hands. “Why were you reading this?”
I shrugged. “I was looking at flower-related titles, same as you. I happen to like science fiction. Still, this book put me to sleep. Most of them do. I must have left it in the restroom.”
He paged through it in concern. “What’s it about?”
“Well, I didn’t get to the end, but I know it’s not actually about flowers. It’s about a strange alien race that’s plant-like and very smart.”
He was breathing hard now, skimming the pages. “So short… could this be an account derived from a real experience? Many of those early UFO reports were false, but others were later documented as sightings of Galactic investigators. This might be what I’m looking for. I’m astounded.”
“Why’s that? Because it took you so long to find it?”
He stared at me suspiciously. “This situation goes beyond the bounds of coincidence, McGill. Once again, I’m being forced to suspect your entire self-presentation as a dunce is fabricated.”
“I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or complimenting me, but either way I’d accept a hearty thank-you instead.”
Claver sucked in a breath and let it out again. “Thanks, James McGill. You’ve done me a service. Now, I must be on my way.”
It was only then that I noticed two things. For one, his hands weren’t manacled anymore. He’d been paging freely through the book, but I’d been too distracted by the search to realize it.
Secondly, he had my Galactic Key in his hand.
-56-
Among other things, the Galactic Key gave the user a get-out-of-jail-free card. Quality hardware like our manacles was alien-made. It had always seemed odd to me that so many locking devices and the like were patented products in the Empire. You had to import them from another star system if you wanted anything good of that kind.
And it wasn’t just locks, either. Database encryption algorithms, transmission security systems, surveillance cameras—they were all alien-made.
Once I’d learned about the keys, it all made a kind of sense. In order to freely bypass all our security, the Galactics had to restrict the lesser species. We’d been forced to buy and use locks they could break at every level. Lowly types like Earthlings, out on the frontier, had been dupes from day one.
I reached out and grabbed onto his shirt with one hand and plucked the key from his hands with the other. The manacles, forgotten, clattered on the scorched floor of the library.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told him. “We had a bargain.”
“So we did,” he said. “To reprogram the suits, all you have to do is go to the first teleportation set-point on the dial. There, you’ll find a laboratory. The Wur there can assist you.”
“Hmm,” I said, holding onto him. “That’s not going to work. I’ve been there. The Wur and the nexus brain-plant in the cellar are both dead.”
“What? You destroyed the scientific genius that cracked the algorithm on these suits? What a waste!”
“How else can we do it?”
He shrugged. “You’ve made it vastly more difficult. Your techs will have to figure it out for you. The equipment is all there in that building—a good place to start. Now, if you don’t mind, I must be on my way.”
“I do mind. How long do you think it would take to figure out how to program these suits?”
“A month? A year? How do I know? I’m not a tech. I deal with techs, but I don’t do the work myself.”
I eyed him while thinking unpleasant thoughts for a moment. He knew we didn’t have a month or a year. Central would fall within days. He obviously had a buyer for this book about lotus-people or whatever, and he wanted to be off to collect a finder’s fee.
That led me to another logical conclusion: If he had a business deal to perform, it could hardly be on Earth. He needed a teleport suit to go wherever he wanted. There had to be one stashed somewhere as he hadn’t been wearing one while accosting me in the library the night before.
My eyes roved the singed books and charred furniture. It probably wasn’t far off.
“Let’s get your suit out,” I said. “I’ll help you get into it.”
“That’s hardly necessary.”
“I insist.”
Marching him at gunpoint, he led me to where he’d stashed it. A locker off the main corridor was full of janitorial supplies, but one pair of coveralls dwarfed the others.
He began to put the suit on, but I yanked it away from him and got into it myself.
“This is theft!” he complained. “You can’t port out without me!”
“You should have thought about that before you put a gun in my face last night.”
His beady eyes were scheming. I could see the wheels turning in his head.
“Hold on,” he said. “I could help you reprogram that suit.”
“I thought only a dead brain-plant could do that.”
“I might have been mistaken. You stay here. Give me the suit so I can retrieve the appropriate programming equipment.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Right, like I’m going to trust you to return after you jump out on me.”
“We’re at an impasse, then,” he said. “May I point out that you don’t even know where you’re going?”
I looked at him then at the suit. It was the same size as the rest. It had been built to hold a large, multi-limbed, male squid.
“There are a lot of extra arm-holes in here,” I commented. “If you wouldn’t mind squeezing for a few seconds…”
Claver was alarmed. “Unnecessary! I’ve got another one…”
I followed him to a janitor’s closet. There, up high on a shelf, was a bundle. He got it down and soon we were both suited-up.
A few minutes later, after Claver worked on the dial with a circular disk I’d never seen before, we jumped through space to Green world. There, we hiked up the shore to the Wur laboratory. I hurried after him, worried he would escape me somehow.
“This is it,” he said, tsking over the state of the workshop. “The body of that Wur stinks. Couldn’t you even be bothered to bury it?”
“No,” I said. “Now, show me how to use this programming equipment.”
He began giving me a technical lesson which soon left me in the dust. I recorded all of it with my tapper. I figured Kivi or Lisa could figure it out later on.
At last, he clapped his hands together and plugged in his suit for a recharge.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked him, frowning.
“Off on my business trip, of course. You’ve got an extra suit, and you can keep it. We’ll meet again, I’m sure, my friend, but—”
My pistol was up and my laser dot shined on the sweaty patch of skin between his eyes.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “No charging that suit, no nothing. We’re going to test this system of yours right now.”
He sputtered and complained, but I herded him away from the charging port. Then I made him take off his suit. Several details about his entire act simply hadn’t added up. He was too familiar with this place, for one thing.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ve heard lots of bullshit in my day, much of it coming from my own lungs, but you’ve always taken the cake, Claver. I don’t buy any of this. Let’s talk plainly.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about—more importantly, we’re wasting time.”
“Hmm,” I said, “about that. Why wou
ld you be in such an all-fired hurry? Could it be that you need to make your transaction before Central falls?”
“Not a worry,” he said with a false smile. “I’m sure you’ll save Earth with the secrets I’ve provided you today. It would be considerate of you to make sure you mention my name when you triumph, McGill. It’s the right thing to do.”
I snorted.
“Let’s talk plainly,” I repeated. “You’re the master of the house here on Green World, aren’t you? Now that the plants are dead, there’s nobody on this planet other than us.”
His eyes darted around, but then he nodded at last. Maybe he couldn’t come up with a lie that he liked.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s right. There’s no one else here.”
I nodded, thinking it over. “We thought we were investigating squid hotspots, places that they’d preset their suits to go. But this is your place. These are your settings.”
“I licensed the technology to them for a very reasonable fee.”
“But,” I said, smiling, “you never gave them the knowledge they needed to change their destinations. You only provided preprogrammed suits, set up out here at your little lab.”
Claver shrugged. “Business is all about maintaining a competitive advantage. If your customers can do it by themselves, why would they pay you?”
“Fair enough by me,” I said. “I don’t care if you gouge the squids. Now, what do you think you know about my plans?”
He twisted his mouth into a sneer.
“Such things are obvious to a thinker like myself,” he said. “I’m a man who sees the world as it really is.”
“Okay, then tell me what I’m going to do.”
“First, you’ll head back to Central. You will demonstrate your claims with my suit. After that, you’ll pop back to Throne World and attempt to capture the cephalopod queens. It’s likely you’ll also irritate an attractive woman along the way with your ham-handed sexual advances.”
His brisk description alarmed me. Mostly, because he was pretty much dead-on.
“I see,” I said after a pause. “Your guesses are shrewd ones.”
He looked smug while I figured out what to do next.
“So,” I said, “it follows that the planet with the hatchery is their Throne World. Is that right?”
“Of course. That’s the home world of the cephalopod race. All of their young are born there. You would think they could inhabit a world like this one happily, but they’re like salmon. They prefer their home waters.”
“The trouble is, Claver, I’m a slow man when it comes to learning new skills. You’ll have to demonstrate how to reprogram these suits.”
“Demonstrate? How?”
“Reprogram this dial. Have it take us to Central—but not to the basement this time. Have it take us to the rooftop landing zone.”
He frowned. “Us? I’m not going with you. I thought I’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Oh, but you are.”
He crossed his arms and glared at me. “I won’t do it. I won’t be bullied in this fashion any longer. I’ve been more than generous with you, McGill, and—hey, what are you doing?”
I’d stood up during his little tirade and grabbed his teleport suit. Throwing it over my shoulder, I made as if to jump out.
“Leave that here!” he warned.
“What’s the matter? Don’t have another one stashed around here? Well, don’t worry. I’ll bring yours right back.”
Reaching up, I began charging the suit and touched the Galactic Key to the dial.
Claver began to breathe hard. He looked very agitated.
“All right,” he said as I slowly moved my hand toward the dial again.
“All right what?” I asked.
“I’ll go with you. Don’t touch anything. As it’s set now, it will teleport you into the core of nearest star.”
Unsurprised, I let my hands drop. He worked on both our suits for a while, and I watched to make sure he reprogrammed them both exactly the same way.
It took careful work, but I soon had a set of presets on the dial of that suit that I wanted. I made a vid of every detail of the process.
Even so, each time I jumped I felt a lump of worry in my throat. That first one was a long trip through the void. I didn’t know if I was experiencing my last moments or not. I’d watched him do the setup closely enough that I thought I was going to a valid destination, but it was hard to be a hundred percent sure.
In the end, Claver either decided to play it safe or he couldn’t come up with a good way to screw me. Each of the destinations I asked for was proven accurate by testing. I did this by jumping away with both suits then returning. He knew that if I didn’t come back, he’d be stuck out there.
After I’d tested them all, I returned and tossed his teleport suit on the dirt between us.
He looked at it thoughtfully.
“Why did you want some of those settings?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s fine with me,” I told him. “Now, piss off.”
He shrugged, grabbed up the suit, and charged it. He gave me a nod as he reached for the dial.
“You played me fairly,” he said. “I won’t forget that.”
I gave him a nod in return, and the world shimmered. He was gone an instant later.
Then I jumped to Central. It took some serious convincing, but I managed to convince Graves and Turov I’d gained full control of the teleport suits.
They weren’t approving of my methods, but they couldn’t argue with the results.
-57-
Less than twenty-four hours later, I stood at the head of a commando team again.
We were all in teleport suits and ready to go. Graves watched every move I made carefully, his suspicious thoughts plain to see on his face.
Drusus had been revived, but he’d been chastened. Maybe Turov had threatened him with being permed if he didn’t cooperate with her leadership.
Whatever the case, as he watched me suit up he seemed more agitated than Graves was.
“This is entirely unsanctioned!” he kept saying.
That fact wasn’t bothering me, but I was used to either disobeying orders or just plain making them up as I went along. Drusus still believed his corrupt chain of command was worth listening to. In my eyes, that was a weakness, but I still liked the man.
“We’ll be back before anyone knows what happened,” I said. “Harris, you’re next. Pick up the package and jump.”
Harris gave me a venomous glance.
“I couldn’t help but notice you’re not taking the point this time, Adjunct,” he said.
I made a speeding-up gesture with my hands, and he picked up a large package sourly. Lisa touched his dial and he vanished.
Ferguson stepped up to the plate next. Within seconds, he was gone too.
There were only three people with suits left. Lisa and I were two of them.
“Are you sure we’re not killing them all?” she asked me nervously. “I haven’t been touching the key to any of these suits, James.”
“I know. Don’t worry.”
Claver had shown me how to disable the fail-safe on the suits. They were built to recognize their owners using biometric identifiers, exactly like the way a smart-gun worked. We’d been bypassing that security system with the key up until now, but Claver had shown me how to switch it off entirely.
We almost made it out of Central before things went bad—almost.
Turov appeared at the lab entrance. She had a squad of hog MPs at her back. She wasn’t wearing her happy-face today, either.
“You’re all under arrest!” she shouted. “Everyone put down their weapons, right now!”
All around me, Varus troops reluctantly obeyed her.
“Get away from that charging unit,” Turov demanded, walking toward Lisa.
Her direction of attention away from me was the opening I’d been looking for. I hadn’t put down my weapon, I’d only let it fall to my
side.
As quick as a gun-slinger, I whipped my carbine back up and fired from the hip. I was glad I’d been taught by Sargon—he was the best.
She’d made her mistake when she’d stepped away from her circle of guards, giving me a clear shot. I took her down with a single opening burst.
Everyone was in shock, naturally. I took that moment to drop my gun for real and throw up my hands.
The stunned guards circled their fallen officer then aimed their weapons in my direction.
“That’s not Turov!” I said firmly. “It’s Claver again. I’m surprised you guys could get sucked in so easily twice in a row.”
Frowning uncertainly, they knelt to look over the body. I made a get-going gesture toward Lisa.
She bit her lip. She looked like she had to pee—and she probably did.
“It is Turov!” shouted one of the officers.
“No it isn’t!” I insisted. “Check that box at her hip. It’s a power supply. Unplug it, and—”
My suit hummed against my back. It was a tiny vibration, one I knew well by now. It was charged up and ready to go.
With a practiced movement, I twisted the dial and jumped out.
At least two of the guards fired. One shot down Lisa. I could see her slowly knocked off her feet, blood and burning hair flying. I watched her freeze that way in midair as the second guard fired at me.
I could see the plasma bolts, as if through a haze of smoke. Three hot streaks traced through the air in my direction—and then I was gone.
The following trip through space was the longest damned one I ever took. I didn’t know if I would arrive hale and whole, or blasted apart and burning.
In the end, the final results were somewhat surprising. When I was coming into focus, so to speak, I found myself in the midst of my team at the LZ. But the weird thing was I could tell it was taking a split-second longer than usual for me to arrive.
Could the suit be malfunctioning? Damaged by gunfire? Or could it be trying to sort out the blasted molecules of my body, figuring what shape I should be reconstructed into?
I didn’t know which it was, but before I could freak out too much about it, the shimmering ended. I was standing on the beaches of Green World.