The Kruton Interface

by John Dechancie

  “All search parties will go out in twos,” Rhodes said. “The bridge will be manned by no less than three people at all times.”

  “Why don’t we all just stay on the bridge,” Darvona said, “until we get back to base?”

  “We can’t give that creature the run of the ship,” Rhodes told her. “No telling what it’ll do.”

  Wanker ordered, “Smithers, take Blake here and get to the engine control pod. And make it fast.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Too late,” Sadowski said, watching readouts at his station. “The beastie’s doon it.”

  Everyone trooped over to engineering.

  “The beastie’s doon what?”

  “He must be in the power control pod,” Rhodes said.

  “Aye,” Sadowski said.

  “There go the engines!” Sven exclaimed.

  A dying whine filled the ship as the engines lost power and the electrogravitic fields faded. The engines throbbed their last. The ship’s velocity was still tremendous, but below that of light.

  “I goofed again,” Wanker said. “Should have sent the security men there to start.”

  “Captain, the monster could have sabotaged something just about anywhere in the ship,” Rhodes said. “We can’t cover everything.”

  “At least this way we can vouch for everybody here,” Sven said.

  “There’s always a silver lining to every turd,” Wanker said.

  “Is that how the saying goes?”

  “Never mind. All right, the sooner we find the creature, the better off we’ll be.”

  Rhodes was at his station. “Captain, you can say that again.”

  “What d’you got in your crystal ball, Mr. Rhodes?” Wanker asked, walking over to him.

  “A black hole, or whatever that singularity is,” Rhodes said.

  “Oh, yes, the black hole.”

  “Yes, sir. We’re heading right for it.”

  * * *

  Search-and-destroy teams fanned out into the ship, two-by-two, all personnel armed with quantum flamers.

  The team rosters were the following: Smithers and Darvona, Blake and Rhodes, Sadowski and Warner-Hillary. Everyone else remained on the bridge.

  The ship’s scanners were quite capable of scanning the ship itself for life readings, but something was wrong. The monster showed up nowhere.

  “Could it have left the ship?” the captain asked Rhodes over the first officer’s internal comm link (built into his ear canal).

  “Let’s hope so, sir. But it could be disguising itself.”

  “As what? One of us? But I have all of you pinpointed.”

  “As some other life-form that the scanners can’t pick up or routinely ignore, sir.”

  “Such as?”

  “Cockroaches.”

  “Cockroaches?”

  “Yes, sir. Mankind brought them along when it conquered space, sir.”

  “Propagating vermin all over the galaxy,” Wanker mused. “Mr. Rhodes, you’re not as dumb as you could be.”

  “Uh, thanks, I guess, Skipper.”

  The search went on, to no avail. Two hours went by, in which time the ship’s course began to deflect toward the massive collapsed object marked on Warner-Hillary’s star charts. Any such object has a tremendous gravitational pull, and this specimen was no exception. On the ship’s screens, the object’s accretion ring of inflamed dust and gas began to glow more noticeably. The ship was being sucked into this stellar vortex, and in a few hours would pass a point of no return.

  * * *

  “Smithers calling the captain.”

  “Wanker here.”

  “Sir, I really have to go to the head.”

  “Uh, you need assistance, Smithers?”

  “Sir, Lieutentant Roundheels wants to watch.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sir, we’re supposed to observe each other at all times. You know?”

  “Oh. Well, she’s right. We can’t let anyone get out of sight.”

  “But, sir, I just have this thing about going to the bathroom in front of somebody, sir. Just can’t do it. When I go into a public head I can’t even—”

  “Mr. Rhodes, what do you think?”

  “Have him leave the door open a crack.”

  “Sirs,” Smithers protested, “please, I really gotta have privacy or else I’ll just sit there.”

  “Captain,” Rhodes said, “slim chance the creature will be hiding in any one head.”

  “I don’t like it, but go ahead and have your privacy, Smithers. Make it damned fast, though.”

  “I gotta do Number Two, sir, and that—”

  “Too much information, Smithers!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sheesh.”

  * * *

  The search continued.

  The Sadowski-Warner-Hillary team limited its sweep to the engine control areas, where the ship’s chief engineer desperately tried to restart the engines. The monster had done a beautiful job of sabotage. Nothing was missing or damaged, but some strategic electronic modules were covered with a hardened slime that rendered them completely useless.

  “That slime!” Warner-Hillary spat.

  “Literally true, Lieutenant,” Rhodes said. “Krutons are really an intelligent species of slime mold.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Now, Lieutenant, let’s not stoop to speciesism. Human chauvinism is against regulations, you know.”

  “Screw regulations. I hate slime like that.”

  The captain broke in. “Sadowski, can you clean up in there and restart the engines?”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” the chief technical officer answered. “In time, but ‘tween the Isle o’ May an’ the links o’ Tay, mony a ship’s been cast away.”

  “Yeah,” the captain said, “I realize that, but what the bloody hell is he talking about, Rhodes?”

  “We’re running out of time, sir,” Rhodes replied.

  “Right. I knew that, just wanted confirmation. Okay, Mr. Sadowski, do the best you—”

  There was a pause.

  “Something, Captain?” Rhodes asked.

  “The life reading on Darvona and Smithers. Something’s changed.’’

  “What, sir?”

  “Darvona, come in!”

  “Sir, I’m here. We’re in forward storage. What’s the matter?”

  “Where’s Smithers?”

  “He’s right here… well, he was a minute ago. Smithers?”

  “You don’t see him?”

  “Sir, he was just here a second ago. I’m sorry, sir, I let him out of my sight.”

  “Darvona, get out of there, now!”

  “What?”

  The monster is near you somewhere! It’s approaching!”

  “On our way!” Rhodes yelled as he and Blake dashed toward the storage area.

  “Darvona, get out of that bay right now!”

  “I’m nowhere near a hatch. Smithers, where are you?”

  “Smithers is the monster! Your only chance is to make it to the hatch! Shut it and seal it behind you!”

  * * *

  Darvona was afraid, more afraid than she had been in her entire life. More afraid even than when she was abducted by that nukecycle gang on Tau Ceti Three—before she found out what a bunch of sweethearts they really were, for all that they liked to play rough… Well, never mind that now.

  The storage bay was well lighted, but that didn’t help. She was alone, and afraid. She began to shake.

  Beads of fine cold sweat banded her pretty brow.

  She tried to steady herself, got a better grip on her flamer. She had to keep her head. If she panicked, it would be over.

  Treading lightly, she walked between the rows of crated equipment and supplies, her eyes darting nervously behind, ahead, right, left. She approached an intersection of aisles and stopped, carefully checking each way before proceeding.

  She moved on. Ahead was an area less well lighted. She looked up. A few overhead fixtures were out. Shod
dy maintenance, she thought. Everything was shoddy aboard this ship.

  “Damn,” she whispered to herself.

  This ship would have to turn over a new leaf. She needed a promotion. At home, bills were piling up. Back debts. She had always lived beyond her means. The debts were entirely her fault, but she…

  Concentrate! she told herself. Why are you thinking of all that nonsense when there’s a monster about?

  She turned a corner, walked down the aisle, coming out of the dark area, and came up against a dead end, an oversize crate blocking the way. She turned around and went back, heading toward the gloom again.

  Something stepped out of the crossing aisle and stood at the intersection, a hulking shadow.

  Darvona suppressed a scream and raised her flamer, frantically trying to steady her hand and get the target in her sights.

  It was gone. Just like that, it had disappeared. She waited for half a minute, then slowly moved forward. How could it have done that? She hadn’t seen it move off. It simply wasn’t there anymore. Actually, it had looked as though the monster had shrunk in on itself. It had sort of collapsed.

  Collapsed? Collapsed to what?

  To the puddle of green stuff!

  But that meant—

  She heard something behind her, a fluid gurgling. She whirled.

  The monster loomed above her, and before she could raise the flamer, a gray beslimed tentacle snaked out and snatched it from her hand. She was frozen with fear, capable only of watching with horror as the thing’s complex mouth worked and clicked and slavered. She could not scream, could not move.

  One of the creature’s pincer-tipped forelimbs descended…

  * * *

  “Mr. Rhodes, where are you?”

  “At the hatch of the forward storage bay, sir! We’re going in now!”

  Rhodes pushed the man-size access hatch open, poked his head in, looked around, and stepped through.

  He heard sobbing.

  “Darvona!”

  Blake following, he ran, threading his way through the maze of gray composite containers, homing in on the sound of inconsolable weeping.

  “Darvona!”

  She was sitting cross-legged on the deck, near the end of a dead-end aisle. Her head was in her hands.

  Rhodes ran to her.

  “Darvona, what happened?”

  “I’m ruined, that’s what!”

  “What?”

  “Ruined for life!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Financially! Look what that son of a bitch did to me!”

  She handed him a blue folder. Rhodes took it and opened it. Inside was an official-looking legal document.

  “What’s this?” he asked, too distressed for the words to have any meaning.

  “A lawsuit! For harassment and personal suffering!”

  “What?” Rhodes was incredulous.

  “The Kruton’s suing the whole ship, and the government, and everybody. I’m named in the suit! The legal costs will keep me in debt forever!”

  “Oh, come on, this can’t be anything more than a nuisance suit. After all, this critter’s a damn spy!”

  “Spies have civil rights, too. At least that’s what it said.”

  “Don’t worry till you talk to your lawyer. Besides, the Forces should cover your legal costs.”

  “No, he’s firing off a dozen lawsuits. This one he gave me is personal! I’ll have to take out a loan!”

  * * *

  Smithers was found in the head, caked with slime. Though stiff and sore, he was otherwise uninjured. The monster had slapped him with two lawsuits, one for personal injury, the other for sexual harassment (displaying obnoxious body parts).

  Implacably and inexorably, the Kruton stalked the ship, jumping out of shadows to serve papers on everyone aboard. Soon, though, the effect wore off, and the creature became simply a nuisance. In time, everyone came to ignore the thing.

  At the last minute, Sadowski managed to start one engine. The ship hummed with life again.

  The Repulse veered away from the singularity and went superluminal, streaking for home.

  * * *

  The captain, Strangefinger, and Rusty spent the voyage playing poker in the mess.

  “You know, I’ve grown to like you, Doctor,’’ Wanker said to the unconventional physicist as he dealt him a hand of five-card stud. “Besides, you’re not a bad poker player.”

  “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself”

  “I’ll qualify that by saying that I prefer your cyber persona, though. That guy underneath—I dunno, can’t say as I care for him so much.”

  “He can be an insufferable little turd,” the good doctor allowed. “I’ll open for a credit. Rusty?”

  Rusty slapped a rubber chicken on the table.

  “Tapped out, huh? What do you say, Captain, is he in for a chicken?”

  “Legal tender in some parts of the galaxy,” the captain said, turning around. “My lunch popped up. You mind if I take a minute to eat, gentlemen?”

  “No, go ahead. On a diet? What is that, anyway?”

  The captain brought his bowl back to the table. “Lime gelatin.”

  But it wasn’t lime gelatin. Lime gelatin is rarely wont to grow a disembodied human hand holding a suspiciously legal-looking paper.

  “Oh, hell,” the captain said, throwing down his spoon.

  The hand grew a body, and in no time, there was Chicolini standing on the table. He jumped down and served the paper on Captain Wanker.

  Wanker accepted it, yawning. “Another subpoena, my Kruton friend?’’

  “Hey, I joost-a got started. When I get through with you guys, you not gonna know what’s-a hit you.”

  “Do you play poker?”

  “Whaddayou think, I’m-a joost get off-a da boat?” The Kruton sat down. “Jacks or better, sky’s da limit?”

  “We’re not playing Go Fish, here,” Strangefinger said through his fat cigar.

  “Hey, that’s-a my kinda game. Who’s-a deal?”

  “My deal,” Captain Wanker said, gathering in the cards. “You know, Dr. Strangefinger, I think you’ll go a long way in your chosen field. And I wish you’d start right now.”

  “Listen, I won’t skipper any starships if you don’t crack any more stale jokes,” Dr. Strangefinger said.

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Speaking of which, shut up and do so.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The Lord High Judge of Tortfeasors’ Court of the Supreme Judiciary of Kruton brooded in his chambers. Today he was a woeful heap of half-conceived, misshapen tissue, of no particular shape or form. He was a mess.

  The mess leaned toward the communicator. “Send Shlurff in,” it commanded.

  The door got out of the way to admit a quivering mound of ooze.

  “Is that you, Schlurff?”

  “Y-yes, sir. Your Lordship, sir. “

  “Shut up and splash down.”

  Shlurff splashed and became immobile.

  “I’ll make this short. You are responsible for my impending forced resignation from the bench. As a result of your incredible bungling, the accident happened on the Kruton side of the Interface!”

  “But, Your Lordship, they annihilated one of our battle cruisers!”

  “We’ll have to eat it. The incident happened in Kruton territory. There were injuries to the plaintiff! Our ship ran into theirs, there’s nothing we can do but acknowledge that. We have no case for a countersuit!”

  “Ulp,” Shlurff said.

  “Kruton will have to settle out of court. For billions and billions!”

  Schlurff collapsed to a pool of abject slime. “What can I say, my lord? I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, you don’t know how sorry you’re going to be. My personal lawsuit against you is now in preparation.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Yes. It’s being handled by one of the top billable-hour firms on the planet.”

  Shlurff could only moan.

 
; “I’ll countersue,” Shlurff said weakly.

  “Hah! I welcome it! They’ll throw it out of court and I’ll recover legal costs from you.”

  “Oh, sir, if there were only some way… ”

  The Lord High Judge began a bodily reformation, his fetid bulk mounting to the ceiling and rotating about. Two immense bulbous hemispheres of flesh formed, their surfaces studded with horrid boils chancres, carbuncles, and assorted other maculae. Most of these exuded fluids of various colors and varying consistency.

  “Make obeisance! Attend to every one of those beauties.”

  Shlurff choked and gagged. “No!”

  “I might go easy on you. I might settle for something reasonable. An admission of culpability, a nominal fine.”

  “You would settle for that?”

  “Perhaps! If I like your style. Re-form and attend me!”

  “Yuck!” Summoning all his inner strength, Shlurff reshaped his body into a rounded, pillowy thing, its only organ a gigantic, soft-lipped mouth. The mouth rose and began to do its work.

  The Lord High Judge sighed. “Feels nice. I might go easy on you at that, if you consent to do this on a daily basis, for a year, say.”

  The mouth stopped its sucking long enough to say, “We can talk.”

  Shlurff had to admit he was not really having a bad time of it. In fact, the task was becoming enjoyable.

  The Lord High Judge felt an internal pressure. His present configuration was prone to excess digestive gas. He made adjustments, and vented it. A noxious effluvium pervaded the room.

  “Hey, are you trying to make me sick?”

  “Sorry,” the Lord High Judge said.

  CHAPTER 19

  Alpha Centauri A was setting, throwing pink and purple splotches against the sky at the edge of the tarmac. A band was playing a lively tune, banners were flying, and Captain Wanker’s spirits soared.

  That long-delayed promotion to admiral was not yet an actuality, but things were looking very promising indeed.

  Wanker drew himself up to attention as Admiral Dickover approached. Behind him, in a ragged line, stood the ranking officers of the U.S.S. Repulse. Bursting with pride, they all wore uncontainable grins.