A movement from the ship caught Kiril's eye. "Somebody's alive over there!" she said. Something hauled itself out of the hatch and scuttled along the hull.
"Homer!" Nancy said. "We knew he'd make it. What about the others?"
Another figure climbed from the cargo hatch. It wore a black coverall and walked with a limp. "Finn!" Torwald said with a grin. A third joined the other two. Even at this distance, Lafayette's red hair was plain as a beacon.
"Commander Kuth," Torwald said, "send for one of your rafts. I think it's time you got a close look at our ship and had a talk with our skipper."
The skipper met them at the hatch. After a preliminary round of greeting and back-slapping, she got down to business. "We all made it down in one piece, although a few of us are in the infirmary. Michelle, go take a look at Bert and Achmed. They got banged around a bit." Michelle disappeared below. The skipper turned to Kiril. "So you're our translator, eh? Go to the galley and get some decent food in you. You have a long day's work ahead of you." She turned to Kuth. "Commander, come on in and let's talk."
11
Kiril sipped at a mug of coffee. After the last few days, even coffee tasted good. Besides, she needed the stimulation to keep her overloaded wits from getting groggy. She had spent six straight hours translating, telling her own story, rehashing all the other stories for everybody concerned, and was headed for serious burn-out. Now Homer had taken over. With her key to the language, Homer had learned Dzuna speech at a furious rate. His telepathic talent was slight, but he could discern differences in sound undetectable by the human ear. Once he knew what to listen for, he could supply the "abstracts" by tiny differences in tone and volume. It was a relief to have someone else to bear the burden.
Homer had another advantage: Once he had a language down pat, he could translate as each party was speaking. It was like having a translating machine. The moment the words left the speaker's mouth. Homer's translation emerged from whatever alien apparatus served him for vocal equipment.
It looked as if the Dzuna were finally convinced of their
story. "Now, Commander Kuth," the skipper said, "I think it's time you had a look into our computer files. They'll give you a better picture of what happened and a general picture of what we're like."
"Computer?" Kuth said. The word had been translated literally. "A device for adding up numbers?"
"That's how they started out," Torwald said. "The earliest computers were just adding machines. Now they can do most things humans do and some things we can't, like play solitaire without cheating."
"Don't be facetious, Tor," Michelle said.
The skipper got up from her galley chair and led the Dzuna up to the bridge, with Homer scuttling after. Kiril slumped in her chair. When would all this end? Michelle shoved a tray in front of her. Heavenly as it smelled, she barely had the energy to eat.
"Eat that," Michelle ordered. "Then go back to your cabin and sleep. I don't know what's going to be planned, but the way things have been happening, it'll be strenuous."
Kiril nodded tiredly. With relief, she pushed the mug of coffee away. If she was going to sleep, she didn't need to force herself to drink it. Without tasting anything, she cleaned the tray, got up, and began staggering back towards her cabin. There was a lot of clutter and disorder, but the ship didn't look as bad as she had feared. The artificial gravity field had saved the interior from the worst of the fail, and Achmed had managed to dump most of the leaked fuel, but there was some wreckage strewn about. The external damage had been worse. Beside the thruster problems, the hull had been strained and ripped in a dozen places. On a ship as old as the Angel, that meant that she would never space again without some time in dock. Docking facilities were in short supply hereabout.
She crossed the hold, where she could clearly see many of the dents and rips in the fabric of the ship. Past the hold she came to the Vivers' quarters. The Vivers were keeping discreetly out of sight. They tended to make people uneasy and might look out of place when the skipper was trying to convince the Dzuna of their peaceful intentions. She stuck her head into the anteroom. "K'Stin?"
The huge Viver appeared in the other doorway. "How does it go?" he asked.
"Slow. Is B'Shant all right?" By way of answer, B'Shant appeared from inside the inner cabin. His carapace was brilliantly shiny and he was now only two or three inches shorter than K'Stin.
"My younger kinsman is now back in fighting shape," K'Stin said. "Tell the skipper that we are now ready to wreak vengeance upon Izquierda and all his works. Besides her own grudge and the fact that he has threatened us all, he has committed yet a greater evil."
"What's that?" she asked.
"He insulted me, B'Shant, and the glorious Clan T'Chak by sending such inferior persons to kill us. I take that personally. Tell her to simply get us aboard the Supernova, preferably armed with heavy-duty beamers. We will do the rest. Perhaps we can break the record for a two-Viver team trashing a major ship."
"I'll pass the word, K'Stin," she said, "but I wouldn't count on her going along with it."
"I speak no disloyalty," K'Stin said, "but the skipper lacks a sense of personal style. It is not enough that these things be done efficiently. Artistry is also necessary."
She pulled her head out and walked the short distance back to her cabin. She knew she should visit Achmed in the infirmary, but she was just too tired. She'd already seen Bert. He was taking things easy in his cabin. She'd see Achmed when she woke up. She locked her hatch behind her. Teddy was asleep on her bunk and she lifted him off. She collapsed into the bunk and was asleep somewhere between starting her fall and hitting the mattress.
Something felt different when she woke up. The chrono display on the bulkhead told her that she had slept for twelve hours. She pushed herself to a sitting position and then realized that she had used her left arm to do the pushing. That was what was different. She looked at the arm. The furry "splint" was gone. Her arm showed no sign of injury. She Hexed her fingers. They worked perfectly and there was no pain. She searched her bunk for the splint. Finally she found it on the deck beneath her bunk. It had shrunk like a withered leaf, with nothing left but a paper-thin membrane with a fuzzy surface.
Kiril splashed some water in her face and decided she would live. In fact, she felt fine, better than she had since this whole business had started. Either a good meal and a night's sleep had great recuperative qualities or the alien whatzit did more than fix broken bones. Whatever happened next, she felt up to facing it. Within limits, of course.
On her way to find out what was happening, she stopped by the infirmary. She found Achmed «lone, apparently asleep. He had been burned and had a number of impact injuries. He was nearly covered with the furry things. Michelle must have persuaded the Dzuna medics to give her some help.
The skipper glanced up as Kiril entered the mess room. "You're looking better," she said. Her eyes were red-ringed and she slumped in her chair with fatigue. It looked as if negotiations had been going on while Kiril slept.
"I feel fine." She took a chair. "Where are the Dzuna and the rest of the crew?"
"The Dzuna left about an hour ago. Everybody else is asleep. Draw me some coffee, will you?"
Kiril got up and went into the galley. As she drew the skipper's cup, she noticed a note clipped to a cabinet. Michelle had made out a menu for her and reminded her sternly to take another tracetab. She got a beaker of her concentrated nutrient from a refrigerator and went back into the mess room.
"The upshot of our talks with the Dzuna," the skipper began, "is that they're willing to enter peaceful trade negotiations. That would be of great benefit to both races. Their command of biochemistry and biomechanics boggles the mind. In turn, they're fascinated by our metallurgy and computer technology. Their equivalent instruments are bulky and inefficient by comparison. That's just for beginners. All that's standing in the way is Izquierda."
"What can we do about that?" Kiril asked. She drank from the beaker and made a fac
e. She was getting sick of the stuff.
"We have to prove that the Angel had no part in the attack, and we have to be convincing."
"That won't be hard, if we can just get to the navy ship," Kiril said. "Just being alive proves something. By now Izquierda has faked the destruction of the Angel with all aboard. If we can just get them to train instruments on this swamp, they'll see that the Angel wasn't destroyed. Can we beam a signal? We sure can't fly up there and talk to them. This ship's going nowhere for a while."
"I proposed much the same to Kuth. This planet's under tight military security. They're afraid that any signal like that could breach their security. I'd do the same in their place. We can't ask that of them."
"That's no help," Kiril said. "Did the Dzuna have any suggestions?"
"One. They can put a small ship at our disposal. It's very small, smaller than that raider you arrived in. But it has their masking device. All their information says none of our sensors can penetrate that masking. They can send up two or three of us. If we can get aboard one of those ships, we can give Nagamitsu the coordinates for the Angel. Then whoever boards the ship can beam down a signal and the Dzuna will drop the masking of this ship for a few minutes. They'll have cleared out of the area, so the only danger is that Izquierda will catch the coordinates and try to heave a bomb in on us."
"Do you think any of us could get aboard the TFCS?"
The skipper shook her head. "Not a chance. Even if that little ship can get close enough without being detected, a TFCS on full wartime alert is the most heavily defended object in space. There's no way in once it's buttoned up." She set her coffee cup down carefully. "It's got to be the Supernova. It has nothing like the defenses of the TFCS, and we know that Izquierda has one hold and hatch that he keeps out of sight from the navy ship. The one he launched the fake Angel from."
"Who goes?" Kiril said, with a sinking feeling.
"I'm not putting this to a vote," the skipper said, "because I'd have a mutiny on my hands. I want you to go. You have the right to refuse, of course. But you know the inside of that ship. Most of all, you're the one who heard it all from Izquierda first hand. Even if he destroys the Angel and kills the rest of us, your story will stand up to government interrogation."
Suddenly Kiril felt weak. To go back aboard that ship again!
Nothing in space or on the alien planet was as frightening as being within Izquierda's power again. She thought about what was at stake, for a long time. "All right," she said shakily, "I'll go."
The skipper sat back in her chair. "I know what that cost you. Tor told me what you asked him to do. Who'll you take with
you?"
"The Vivers," she said without hesitation. "Give them beamers, they're itching to restore their honor."
For the first time the skipper cracked a faint smile. "Good choice, but I can't let them have beamers. I'll admit I was never so shocked in my life as when you told me Izquierda had unsecured beamers aboard ship." She shook her head. "It's hard to believe a ship's officer could act like that. Don't worry, those two can raise plenty of hell without beamers."
"When do we go?" Kiril asked, now anxious to get it over with, one way or the other.
"It'll take them maybe a day or two to bring the ship here masked." The skipper lit up one of her noxious cigars and turned, if anything, even more serious. "Look, Kiril, I realize I have no business even talking about the future, since there's not much chance any of us have one, but I want to say a few things. You know that the ship's kid usually has to leave when he or she outgrows the job?"
"I've been told."
"We never just beach them. When they leave the Angel, they have an apprentice spacer's bracelet and we always make sure they have a berth before they leave. But there've been exceptions. Lafayette was one."
"He told me about that." Was this what she hoped it was?
"I want you to be another. I want you to stay with the Angel. You can apprentice for any position on the ship, except for engineer, which goes to Lafayette." The skipper crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. "I mean this, Kiril. If it's my job you'd like, I'll see to it you have your chance. I can't live forever. If you want a bridge officer's position, just say the word. It'd mean a few years away from the ship at one of the academies, but I'd pay for the schooling."
Kiril turned away quickly, her eyes stinging. "Let me think about it."
"Sure," said the skipper. "There's lots of time. Pretty soon there may be no ship, anyway. 1 just wanted you to know. You always have a place with us. Understood? That's already sworn into the ship's log, with Ham as witness, just in case I don't make it but you and the Angel do."
"1 understand," Kiril said. There was absolutely nothing else she could think of to say.
"Now get yourself something solid to eat and rest up. I've got work on the bridge. Don't talk about your mission to anyone except K'Stin." The Skipper left, and Kiril was alone with her thoughts. The distant future, with her as a permanent resident aboard the Space Angel, she pushed from her mind. It was the immediate future that concerned her.
She ate hastily and went to the Vivers' compartment. So far she had seen none of the others. She rapped on the hatch of the inner room and it snapped open with startling swiftness. "What is it, small and skinny one?" K'Stin demanded. "Is it danger?"
"Not now, but soon. We have to talk in private." She stepped inside and K'Stin closed the hatch. In the tiny room she could hardly turn around without bumping into one of the Vivers. Before, the hulking, armored creatures had always made her nervous. After Izquierda, though, nothing seemed very scary.
"We're going to go hit the Supernova," she said. "Just me and the two of you."
K'Stin's rigid face could not grin but it was in his voice. "Fun at last. When do we go?" She told him of the skipper's plan. "Will we take beamers?"
"She says no. It's against the rules."
"Foolishness!" K'Stin groused. "We Vivers are not mere pulpy humans with no sense of space and distance."
"I thought you were humans," she said, "just gene-manipulated."
"True, but we don't like to think about it. We have the most perfect of distance perception and orientation. I could set the beam-length control to sweep a hold without cutting the paint on the far bulkhead."
"Relax, K'Stin. She's not letting you take any beamers from here aboard the Supernova, but we're going in through the hold where the mercs have their quarters. I know where the weapon racks are. I, for one, am not worried about breathing vacuum. Not with Izquierda to think about."
The Viver enveloped her shoulder in his huge hand. "You have the proper spirit, skinny one. You should have been a Viver."
She felt a little better when she left the Viver quarters. If she had to go in with somebody at her back, the Vivers were the best possible choice. She wondered what to do. The skipper had told her to rest up for her mission; but she felt fully rested and energized Better, in fact, than she had felt in years. Then she saw all the litter that was still lying about from the crash and she remembered that she was still ship's girl and had a job to do.
For the next few hours Kiril swept and picked up, loading the wreckage into a wheeled hauling cart to be tossed into the ship's trash compacter. Anything that was too heavy for her to pick up, she left until one of the men could give her a hand. When she had the main corridor straightened away, she worked on the mess room and galley. There wasn't all that much to do there, because the rest of the crew had already done most of it. She went to her own cabin and tidied it up and then wondered what else she could do to keep herself from thinking about what was ahead.
Michelle found Kiril mopping up in hydroponics and scolded her for overexerting herself. Kiril said that she felt fine, and Michelle left. A few minutes later Lafayette appeared and took the mop. Gently but firmly he shoved her into the corridor and told her to go relax. The rest of the day went like that. She wished she could tell Michelle to leave her alone. The medic's determination to look out for
Kiril's health was having the opposite effect.
After the evening meal she went to her cabin and stretched out on her bunk. She fidgeted and fretted but could not sleep. It was an unusual experience. In the past she had slept under the rubble of half-collapsed buildings, on the lumpy floors of cellars, in the chilling cold of rain-swept doorways. All she'd had to do was close her eyes to nod off, always ready to waken instantly at the approach of danger. Now she couldn't sleep, in comfort and relative safety. Even in the Supernova she'd slept.
She remembered the soporific that had lulled her in the big ship. Maybe that was what she needed.
She got up and dressed, then went to Michelle's quarters. She found the medic writing something on a glowing screen with a stylus, "i can't sleep," Kiril told her. "You got anything that'll put me out?"
Michelle dropped the stylus to her desk and glared accusingly at Kiril. "She's sending you back up there again, isn't she? To the Supernova."
"I thought you weren't telepathic," Kiril said, shocked by the sudden anger.
"Who needs it?" Michelle said. "I've been watching you all day. You've always been attentive to your duties, but after all we've been through, anyone would kick back for at least a day. You've been working like you just got the job and you think you'll be fired if someone sees you taking a break. You're terrified, aren't you?"
"The skipper told me not to talk about it."
"You might as well, or I'll go up to the bridge and have it out of her. Now talk."
Reluctantly Kiril unfolded the story. Michelle listened with a stony expression. "It's crazy."
"It's the only way and you know it," Kiril said. "I'm not happy about it, but I'm ready to go through with it. It's what the Dzuna will go along with, and we need their ship."
"But it doesn't need to be you," Michelle protested. "You've already done more than ever should have been asked of you. Do you have any idea how the rest of us have felt, knowing that you've been taking all the risks?" Kiril was speechless, seeing the tears standing in Michelle's eyes. "You should have seen this crew that second night you went aboard that ship. Ham and Finn and Torwald snarled and snapped at one another like dogs that don't like each other's scent. Lafayette sulked in the engine room and wouldn't come out to eat. Bert wouldn't answer the skipper when she talked to him, and Nancy spent the whole night in the observation bubble, playing her violin. Achmed prayed all the time. Even the Vivers were more insufferable than usual."
John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind Page 17