Asimov's SF, December 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  “Thank you, Captain.” The hjadd had already unfastened hisher harness, and now floated free of hisher couch. “First Officer, will you please open a channel? The proper frequency has already been programmed into your system."

  “Sure.” Emily reached to her keyboard. “But what do you want me to...?"

  “There is no need for you to speak. I will communicate for you.” Jas pushed himherself over to the console. “If you will...?"

  “Skipper?” Ali continued to stare at the holo. “What do you want me to do?"

  “Move us away from the starbridge, then hold position.” Ted watched as Emily entered commands into her keyboard. “Just wait."

  Emily raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Jas. Apparently the Prime Emissary had switched off hisher translator and activated an internal mike, for when heshe spoke again, it wasn't in Anglo but rather the unpronounceable rush of hisses, clicks, and croaks that I'd heard in hisher quarters. A few seconds passed, then from the speakers we heard a response in the same tongue. Jas gave a short reply, then turned toward Ted.

  “Our arrival has been acknowledged, and we have been welcomed,” heshe said. “If you will kindly relinquish control of your ship, our traffic control system will guide it to the appropriate docking port."

  From across the compartment, I saw Ali trade a wary glance with Ted. The captain gave him a wordless nod, and Ali entered a command into his console. “Helm control free,” he said, not at all happy about it. “But I don't know how..."

  A second later, there was an abrupt sensation of lateral movement as the maneuvering thrusters fired on their own, bringing the Pride around a few degrees to starboard. “Do not worry,” Jas said as heshe returned to hisher couch. “Your ship is quite safe, so long as you do not interfere. All you need do is complete final docking procedures."

  “Thank you.” Ted looked over at Rain and me. “Right, then ... you know the drill. Go below and prepare for arrival. We'll use the primary docking port on Cargo Two."

  I unbuckled my harness and pushed myself out of my seat. “Do you want us to open the port hatch?"

  Ted shook his head. “Not until we get there. Just pressurize the module and wait for us."

  “Wilco.” Grabbing hold of the ceiling rail, Rain pulled herself toward the deck hatch. “Let us know when you're about to come down."

  “Sure.” Ted was no longer paying attention to us. Once again, he was gazing out the windows, watching Talus qua'spah as it steadily grew larger. One last glance behind us, then I followed Rain from the command center. She waited in the access shaft while I shut the hatch behind us.

  “Is it just me,” I said once we were alone, “or does that thing scare the hell out of you, too?"

  Rain thought about it for a moment. “No,” she said quietly as she pushed herself in the direction of the hub. “It's not just you."

  * * * *

  XVI

  Although we were supposed to pressurize Cargo Two, standard operating procedure called for us to suit up first. So our first stop was the ready room.

  Although Rain and I had made our peace, she still wasn't inclined to share the compartment while she put on her hardsuit. I wasn't about to press the issue, so I let her have her privacy, and instead pushed myself across the hub to Cargo Two and initiated pressurization. She didn't take as long to suit up as she had the day before, so by the time she was done and I traded places with her in the ready room to put on my own gear, Cargo Two was fully pressurized and we were able to enter it without having to cycle through its airlock. We kept our helmet faceplates open, though, and left our pressure switches on standby.

  Cargo Two was divided into four decks, with the marijuana bales securely lashed to grid-like floors. We floated past them as we made our way down the center shaft to the docking port, located at the far end of the module between the cargo hatches. We'd just reached the port hatch when Emily's voice came through the comlink.

  “Jas tells us we're about to enter a gravity field,” she said. “You're going to need to find something to hang onto."

  “We copy.” There were hand-rungs on either side of the hatch. I grabbed a pair on one side, and Rain held onto two more on the other. “All right, we're ready."

  “Very good.” A pause. “On final approach now. We'll be docking in a couple of minutes."

  I was about to respond when Rain gasped. “Holy ... get a load of that!"

  She was peering through the small porthole in the center of the hatch. Moving beside her, I gazed out the window, and felt my breath catch. Past the flanges of the docking collar, several hundred yards away and getting closer with each passing second, we could see a giant, saucer-like construct, just one of the countless subsections that made up Talus qua'spah. As the Pride drew near, a dome at the bottom of the saucer opened like a clamshell. Beyond it lay an enormous bay, so vast that the Robert E. Lee could have been hangared inside.

  “I think we're expected,” I murmured. An obvious remark, yet Rain's face was grim as she silently nodded. She was just as intimidated as I was.

  Coasting in on little more than its thrusters, the Pride slowly entered the bay. Through the porthole, Rain and I watched as the ship glided into the center of a lattice-like cradle, its arms swinging aside to make room for our vessel. There was a hard thump as the freighter came to rest, then a tubular arm telescoped forward to mate with port hatch.

  It had just connected with the docking collar when we felt the abrupt tug of gravity, and the airlock suddenly went vertical. Rain and I both swore as we scrambled to find footholds. Fortunately, there was a narrow ledge running around the inside of the hatch that we were able to stand upon.

  “All right, we're here,” Emily said. “How are you guys doing down there?"

  Behind us, I could heard the bales shifting against their restraints; now they hung from the decks, which had become bulkheads. “We're okay,” Rain said, “but I hope they're able to fine-tune their gravity field. Otherwise unloading is going to be a bitch."

  A short pause, then Emily's voice returned. “Jas assures us this won't be a problem. All they have to do is shut down the field for the hangar. How's the pressure on your end?"

  I turned my head so that I could read the panel next to the hatch. All the lights were green. “Copasetic,” I replied, then I glanced through the porthole. An empty tunnel lay before us, an enclosed gangway illuminated by the Pride's external lights. “Waiting for you."

  Another pause, then Ted came over the comlink. “It's going to take us a bit to get things settled here. Go ahead and pop the hatch. We'll be down in a few minutes."

  “Roger that.” The lockwheel was located on my side of the hatch. Hanging on with my left hand, I twisted the wheel clockwise, then put my shoulder against the hatch. There was a faint hiss as it swung open, and I looked at Rain. “Ladies first."

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head within her helmet. “I insist..."

  I tried not to laugh. If the hjadd had a death-ray waiting for us, we would've known by now. But I wasn't about to make fun of her for being nervous, so I ducked my head and climbed through the hatch.

  The tunnel was octagonal, with each surface capable of serving as a floor. For a few seconds, all I could clearly see were the first dozen feet or so ... then the walls glowed to life with a soft radiance of their own, and now I saw that the gangway extended about forty yards until it ended at a circular door.

  “Now what?” Rain entered the tunnel behind me. “Keep going, or wait for the others?"

  “We wait.” There was no need for my helmet, and I felt foolish wearing it, so I took a moment to remove it, careful to keep my headset in place. “Always let the captain..."

  Before I could finish, through, the door at the end of the tunnel split in half and slid open. Warm light spilled out into the passageway.

  “On the other hand...” I murmured.

  Rain had removed her own helmet. “You just said we should wait,” she said, regarding the door with suspicion. “Now
you're saying..."

  “Hold on a sec.” I prodded my headset. “Ted, are you there?"

  “Copy. What's going on?"

  “We've left the Pride, and now we're in some sort of gangway. Looks like it leads to the station, and a door at the far end just opened. I think someone wants us to come aboard.” I paused. “Do we stay, or do we go?"

  Several seconds passed, then Morgan's voice came over the comlink. “Jas says that you should continue. An invitation has been made, and it would be considered rude if you declined."

  Ted's voice returned. “I concur. We're still in the command center. Go ahead, both of you. We'll catch up."

  “Roger that.” I looked at Rain; she'd heard everything over her own headset. “Well, there it is. Ready to meet the neighbors?"

  She still didn't look happy about the thought of doing this alone. We hadn't been given much choice in the matter, though, so we tucked our helmets beneath our arms and headed down the tunnel. I deliberately walked slowly, in order to give Ted and the others more time to join us, but it still didn't take long for us to reach the end of the gangway.

  We entered a circular room about twenty feet in diameter, with another round door on the other side. Its walls were featureless save for a set of floor-to-ceiling glass panels that emitted a dull blue glow. Above us was a transparent dome; through it, we could see the Pride, resting in vertical position within its docking cradle. We were still gazing up at our ship when, very quietly, the door slid shut behind us.

  “Oh, hell,” Rain muttered. “I don't like the looks of..."

  At that instant, the wall panels lit up, each displaying a different image. A north polar projection of the Milky Way galaxy, overlaid with a halo grid upon which a star near the center of the Orion Arm was circled: Rho Coronae Borealis, if my guess was right. A schematic view of Talus qua'spah, with a tiny saucer near its outer edge highlighted; hjadd script appeared next to it, apparently meaning YOU ARE HERE. A wide-angle shot of the Pride, looking like a bug snared within a spider's web. Vertical bars of hjadd script slowly scrolled upward, significant in some way yet meaningless to our eyes.

  I was still gazing at those panels when Rain tapped my shoulder. Turning around, I saw another panel, this one showing a hjadd. Although heshe looked a little like Jas, I noticed that hisher face had a different skin pattern and a slightly larger fin. Heshe opened hisher mouth and addressed us in a series of hisses and clicks.

  A pause, then the hjadd vanished, to replaced by something that looked like a hermit crab, only lacking a shell and with smaller claws. It chirped for a few seconds, stopped and waited for a moment, then disappeared. The next creature was a tall, skinny biped, with backward-jointed legs, arms that nearly reached the floor, and a head that vaguely resembled that of a horse; when it spoke, it gurgled like someone with a mouthful of water trying to tell a dirty joke. Another pause, then it went away, and now we saw something that could have been the Abominable Snowman were it not for four eyes and a tongue that slipped obscenely in and out of it furry mouth.

  “I think...” Rain studied the panel, her anxiety replaced by fascination. “Maybe this is some sort of reception area."

  “You might be right, but I haven't the foggiest what we're supposed to..."

  The panel suddenly went dark. A moment passed, then a human who looked a little like Ted, except with a shaved head and plucked eyebrows, appeared on it. “Greetings, and welcome to the House of the Talus," he said, speaking Anglo in a voice that didn't belong to our captain. “You have been identified as human. Please continue to visitor processing."

  A tinkling sound like wind chimes, then I felt a warm draft at the back of my neck. Looking around, I saw that the second door had slid open.

  “Bad manners or not,” Rain said quietly, “I really think we should have waited."

  “Too late now. We're committed.” Besides, I was curious. Rain glared at me, but followed me into the next room.

  It was almost identical to the first, except that the ceiling was covered with translucent panels. Low, bench-like tables were placed here and there; cabinets were recessed within the reflective glass walls. The air was considerably warmer as well; about seventy degrees, comfortable without being too humid.

  The door closed as soon as we were inside, and once again the not-quite-Ted appeared on a wall panel.

  “This is the decontamination facility,” he said. “To begin this procedure, please remove all your clothes."

  Copyright (c) 2007Allen M. Steele

  (TO BE CONTINUED)

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Poetry: THE VOID WHERE OUR HEARTS USED TO BE

  by Robert Frazier

  I've seen the best Void Runners of my generation

  scarred, vectorless, tired of the emptiness

  yet always craving the vastness

  —

  who were scrapped like fried jump-drive parts

  who are still hooked on those stormy dynamos

  those machineries of flight

  —

  who bay at the moons the suns the obscuring dust

  waiting waiting to be transfixed and spread far

  like passengers cryosealed upon a table

  —

  and when the change comes

  the true weight of the multitude of lives

  we have lived and burned will balance to zero

  —

  when the change comes

  our Klein bottle souls will reinvert

  make revisions to the vain yearnings we contain

  —

  and, yes, when the change truly comes

  the oxygenating machines in our chests

  will shiver in blue-shifted beats

  —

  charting us back from all the far neutopias

  bridging the void the deserted streets

  where our torn-out hearts used to be

  —Robert Frazier

  Copyright (c) Robert Frazier

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  ON BOOKS

  by Peter Heck

  * * * *

  SLAN HUNTER

  by A.E. Van Vogt & Kevin J. Anderson

  Tor, $24.95 (hc)

  ISBN: 0-765-31675-2

  This posthumous collaboration is a sequel to one of the most influential books of SF's golden era. In my case, Slan was among the first books I bought when, some time in my teens, I joined the Science Fiction Book Club. I'd read SF before, of course—why else would anybody want to join the book club? But Slan was my first taste of Van Vogt's high-energy space opera, and that was all I needed to get hooked.

  According to the introduction by Van Vogt's widow, Lydia, he had begun working on a sequel to Slan in his late years, but was prevented from finishing it by the Alzheimer's disease that eventually killed him. His widow passed along his various notes and drafts to Anderson, who has completed the story; exactly how much he had to work with is anyone's guess, although a lot of readers will undoubtedly have fun trying to figure out whether this piece or that is Van Vogt's or Anderson's. In my opinion, there aren't any dead giveaways; in other words, Anderson does a good job of making his style blend with Van Vogt's.

  The book begins with a young couple on the way to the hospital; the woman, Anthea Stewart, is in labor, and her husband is driving recklessly. The radio has just announced an imminent attack of slans—superhuman telepaths who represent the next step in evolution. The couple arrive at the hospital in the nick of time, and the mother goes into the delivery room. To the doctor's horror, when the child is born, it has on its head the tendrils that are the mark of a slan—even though both the parents appear to be normal humans!

  That's just the first surprise the authors pull out of their hats, and I won't give away any more, since the book, like all of Van Vogt's work, is a roller-coaster ride of plot twists and dramatic reversals.

  Jommy Cross, the hero of the original Slan, returns, of course. He is an orph
aned slan, who has used his powers and knowledge passed down by his father to build super-weapons that he hopes will return his people to their rightful place in society. Also here are his great opponents: the title character, John Petty, the head of a government agency devoted to ridding the world of slans; and the tendrilless slans of Mars, who detest both humans and the true slans. It is the tendrilless slans who have launched the overwhelming attack on Earth with which the book begins.

  One pervasive element here is a strong feeling that the characters are living in the 1940s—the era when the original Slan was written. Smoking is commonplace, sex roles are stereotyped, even the technology seems frozen at that point in time. This is a bit jarring at first. Even after the explanation that the human/ slan wars set society back so far that it has barely managed to reach the level of the forties, it seems strained. The real reason is probably to avoid a disconnect between two books written over fifty years apart—of course Van Vogt was carrying the assumptions of the era into his writing, although they feel dated now. On the other hand, the out-of-period atmosphere may give the book an alien feeling to a younger reader—so possibly it works for a fair fraction of the audience.

  But on the whole, Anderson has done a fine job of something more often attempted than successfully accomplished: taking on another writer's unfinished work and completing it without a noticeable clash either in style or conception. If you have fond memories of Slan, this one will probably be right up your alley. A fun read.

  * * * *

  BREAKFAST WITH THE ONES YOU LOVE

  By Eliot Fintushel

  Bantam Spectra, $12.00 (tp)

  ISBN: 0-553-38405-5

  Fintushel, whose work should be familiar to readers of this magazine, pulls off a tour de force here: a science-fantasy novel with a deep underlay of Jewish mysticism.

  The story is told through the eyes of Lea, a young woman best described as street-tough; she tells us from the beginning that she has killed and won't hesitate to do so again. When we meet her, Lea is working as a waitress, and is involved with another character, Jack Komarr, to whom she usually refers as “the Yid.” And we learn very quickly that something extremely odd is going on between them.