by B. V. Larson
“Why build it if you don’t want to fly it?” I asked.
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “It’s such a risk, can’t you see? We have no idea how these aliens will react. They might become enraged and bomb us. Or, they might welcome us with open arms. But why rock the boat if things are going well enough now?”
I thought over my response carefully. “I understand your dilemma,” I said, “but you have to know that if you don’t fly her, they’ll eventually replace you with someone who will.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s how I see it too. What would you do, Blake?”
“There are only two possible courses of action, sir,” I said. “Fly her—or blow her up.”
“Deliberate sabotage?” he chuckled nervously. “That would be treason.”
“Not if you truly believe the fate of Earth is in the balance. May I be dismissed now, sir? I can’t make this choice for you.”
“Hmmm… Yes, of course. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
That was it. I got up, and I walked out.
But I already knew which path he’d choose. A man too cautious to fly a ship he’d been charged with building would never have the guts to blow it up.
He’d either fly the phase-ship, or he’d resign his post. Yawning, I hardly cared which it would be. I headed back to my tiny “stateroom” for a nap.
=9=
My nap turned into a snore-fest. I was pretty tired, and when I finally woke up, I sensed I was being watched.
I saw a light then, a small glowing amber indicator on the far wall. Was someone looking at me through the wall?
I jumped up and opened my door. There were fleeing footsteps—feminine steps.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Come back here. Don’t make me run you down!”
Her step faltered, and she turned around. The halls were kind of gloomy down here, but I recognized her right off.
“Robin?” I asked. “They let you out of purgatory, huh? What kind of sweet deal did you negotiate?”
She walked back slowly, looking irritable and contrite at the same time.
“You won’t tell them about this, will you?” she asked. “I’m already on probation.”
I shook my head. “Nah, but I didn’t figure you for a peeper. Sure, you’re a reporter, but…”
“I wasn’t peeping, I just didn’t know which cubicle was yours, that’s all.”
I feigned astonishment. “Wait a second… are you saying you looked into everyone’s bunk? This whole row?”
“No, I didn’t say that!”
By this time, she was close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Maybe I was dreaming, but I felt the urge to do so. I resisted with difficulty and crossed my arms instead.
“You didn’t answer my first question,” I pointed out. “How’d you get out of that room upstairs and make your way down here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I signed their damned papers. All of them. They own my butt now.”
I nodded. It had been obvious, but I’d wanted her to admit it.
“Okay then, you’re our PR rep—when and if this whole project goes public. What are your duties for now?”
“Familiarization with the project—and its participants.”
“Have you got your own cubicle?”
“No, I’m stationed outside. In the buildings outside the vault.”
“Why are they letting you roam around down here alone?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really alone. There are cameras everywhere.”
I looked around the hallway. There were cameras here and there, but that didn’t mean anyone was watching us every moment. These days, there were so many cameras around that they were usually only used to review what had happened in the past. When it came to violations at any facility, they were used more to provide proof for an investigation after the fact than to provide constant surveillance.
“So, you came looking for me right off?” I asked. “I’m flattered.”
“I was told there was an argument among key management—and that you were there to witness it.”
Smiling, I invited her into my cramped quarters. She hesitated, then accepted my offer.
We sat down. There was only one steel chair and my bunk to choose from. I took the chair because my head hit the cabinets over my bunk when I sat upright on it.
“This is ridiculous,” she complained, having to lie back on my small, firm bed.
“I know. My apologies, but it’s all I have.”
“Where’s this project headed, Leo?” she asked. “I know you’re in on the details.”
I considered my options. She had some right to know, but I also understood General Vega might not like open discussions about our time schedules.
“I can’t tell you,” I said at last.
“What? We were risking our lives together last night, but now you’re going to hold out on me?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
She got up from my bunk and crawled onto my lap. It was a short trip.
“How about I tell you something first—something about this place you don’t know?” she asked.
“Like what?” I asked, enjoying the weight of her on my legs.
I knew I should push her off—but that would have been a hard thing to do for any man. Robin could be very sexy when she wanted to.
“You see this window in your wall?” she asked. “My room has one too. Freaked me out at first. I asked another woman how they could be turned off. Here’s what she showed me.”
She pressed recessed dents along the wall. Part of it vanished. We could see the passageway outside.
I shifted uncomfortably. She was still sitting in my lap, and I couldn’t help but wonder what people would think if someone walked by.
“Don’t worry,” she said, putting her hand on my knee, “when you have the glass reversed like this, they can’t see inside. It only has three settings: look in, look out, or blank. If you’re using it to look out from the inside, people outside can’t look in.”
“Okay… I have to admit, that’s something useful. But it doesn’t come close to talking about the fate of this project.”
“I’m only asking so I can handle the press later if it becomes public knowledge.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait until that happens,” I said.
Stubbornly, she began running he fingers over my collar. This girl didn’t give up easily.
“How can I persuade you to talk to me?” she asked in a sweet tone.
I didn’t answer right off, but I think my heart started pounding. We males are weak that way.
She began touching and kissing. I wasn’t completely comfortable—especially with that transparent wall about two feet away. Once in a while, someone walked by and I couldn’t help but jump a little.
I didn’t let her go all the way—that wouldn’t have been fair—we just made out for a while.
Finally, I gently scooted her butt off my lap and back onto my bunk. She looked at me in shock.
“Sorry,” I said.
She was instantly angry. “You were never going to give me anything, were you?” she demanded. “You led me on! You let me make a fool of myself!”
“Come on…” I said. “I already told you ‘no.’ You’re not a reporter anymore, remember? You’re a PR rep. They’ll tell you what you need to know to do your job.”
Robin left in a storming huff. I didn’t blame her, but her reaction made me believe that in her mind she was still planning to break this story—no matter what she’d been forced to sign.
She was playing a dangerous game, but that was her choice.
After dinner, during which no one saw fit to sit at my table, I returned to my quarters. We’d been ordered to report at 0600 the next day for a general briefing.
I stretched out on my bunk afterward and relaxed. I could still smell the lingering traces of Robin’s perfume, and I regretted my choices. I’d done the right thing—but I still regretted it.
&nbs
p; The lights in the passageway outside dimmed to a dull glimmer at about ten pm to simulate night.
The last few days of running around had worn me down. Sleep came easily, but it didn’t last long.
In the middle of the night, a shadow fell over my bunk. I was sleeping lightly, as always, and I must have heard something.
Looking out through the one-way wall, I saw a large figure. It tapped at the base of the window, waited, then tapped some more. The person had to be trying to look inside, but they were failing. The trick Robin had shown me had worked.
Another detail, however, got me to worrying. I’ve been off-world. I’d lived, in fact, for over a year among the Rebel Kher. During that time, I’d learned to spot one of them when I encountered them.
They were like humans, most of them. They ranged in height and bulk, just as humans did. A big Kher from a low-gravity world might be seven feet tall. Another race might be the size of children.
But no matter how big they were, they always had a certain “otherness” about them. I’d seen that effect before, and I’d recognize it anywhere.
One thing I knew for certain, looking out into the passageway through that transparent region of stone—whoever it was out there trying to take a look at me, they weren’t human.
=10=
During my time aboard the ships of the Kher, I’d learned that midnight visitations were never friendly. Rivals had often come then to find us when we were weak, tired and slow to defend ourselves. In such moments, our most savage battles for supremacy had occurred.
Among the Rebel Kher, advancement in rank was attained in one of two ways: either you did something heroic, or you proved you were the best among your peers by beating them down. Often, when I’d returned after a hard-won battle, I’d been met not with cheers, but with a surprise attack. Being of high status commanded respect, but it also made you a target in the Rebel civilization.
The hulking being outside stopped fussing with the window and moved to the door. In the meantime, I’d slid out of my bed, pulled on pants and shoes, and thrown my jacket over the nightlight that never seemed to go off under my bunk.
It was pitch black when the door to my cubby glided open. The only light came from the window that looked out on the passageway outside.
A figure shambled forward, hunching a little to get into the door. It was remarkably quiet for its size—the mark of a predator.
Those eyes… they caught a ray of light from the passageway, and they gleamed. Human eyes didn’t do that. The eyes of wolves, bears and cats did.
Without a threat or a battle-cry, I attacked the intruder. My fist landed on the snout. It crunched with a meaty sound.
Claw-like arms came up, but I dodged under them, going for the belly. I landed a kick there, digging in my heel, but I could tell I wasn’t going to stop this beast that way. Its stomach was a wall of rubbery muscle.
One of those arms swept me off my feet then, tossing me against the back wall of the chamber. Bouncing, I came back into a crouch, breathing hard and making a growling sound in my throat.
The being stopped advancing, and a translated voice spoke. “You haven’t changed, Blake,” it said.
I paused in shock. “Ursahn?” I asked. “Is that really you?”
“Of course it is. How long has it been? You don’t recognize me anymore?”
“It’s dark—and I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Ah right, most primates suffer from poor eyesight.”
Ursahn touched the wall, and the room lit up. I saw her then, standing there in the doorway rubbing her snout.
She had been the captain of the carrier ship Killer, which I’d served aboard in the Rebel Fleet. She resembled a bear in size and shape, but with a lot less fur.
“Sorry about your nose,” I said.
“No need to apologize. Any creature entering the den of another deserves no less.”
I gestured toward the only chair. She looked at it dubiously then squatted there in obvious discomfort. I recalled that chairs in her quarters aboard Killer had resembled tree stumps.
“It is I who should apologize,” she said. “I wanted to make sure it was you who was here in this warren. I didn’t realize humans were subterranean creatures, by the way.”
I didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, I tried to force myself to think.
“You’re the second person who’s ambushed me to determine if I’m really Leo Blake. Why would that be?”
“It’s a common enough technique among Kher. Humans have not generally been trained the way you have. Your reaction proved to me that you are a true Rebel. You chose violence first, leaving apologies and requests for aid for later.”
“So you’re saying Godwin might be a Kher?” I asked.
“What’s a Godwin? Is that a species or an individual?”
“A man. A human-looking man. But he attacked me as a test to make sure I was really who I resembled.”
“I see. An appropriate technique—but I know of no ‘Godwins’ in my life-space.”
The translator she was using hadn’t quite matched up everything we’d said, but it was doing a pretty good job. They were like cellphones in that they worked well enough to allow you to forget your partner in a conversation was really many miles away—most of the time.
“In any case,” I said, “the fact that Godwin used this approach indicates he might not be human—he’s probably one of the Rebel Kher. The weird thing is he seemed completely human to me.”
Ursahn shrugged, bored with the issue. “Let me tell you why I’m here. It has come to our attention that you’re building a ship here on Earth. I would assume you’re in charge of this project?”
“Uh… sort of.”
“That is good, because the Imperials are coming back.”
I stared at her in shock. “Really? They didn’t get enough the first time? Have we met them and done battle yet?”
“Yes. A ship loaded with ambitious primates was sent to face them. Many other races have been training, trying to master your techniques of ship-to-ship hacking. The primates insisted they be the only ones allowed to meet the enemy.”
“Well? What happened?”
Ursahn shrugged. “Nothing happened—at least, nothing that we know of. The ship full of primates vanished. They were prepared to capture the Imperial ships and force them to destroy one another again as you did last year. But they never returned, and we don’t know how they did in battle.”
I had a sinking feeling that I did know. A hack tended to work well a few times, but after that the security on the other side got better. The Imperials could hardly have failed to improve their cyber-warfare capabilities. Basic security improvements, such as firewalls on systems routing their wireless transmissions, would completely foil the techniques I’d used against them the last time around.
“This is bad, Ursahn,” I said. “Very bad. They probably developed defenses to stop our hacking. That’s why they retreated and regrouped, to prepare for this second wave. Now, they’ve rewritten their software systems, and they’ve returned to continue the hunt.”
“That is what some of our people have suggested,” she said. “And that’s why I’m here. I’m reactivating you to serve in the Rebel Fleet. The call has gone out to every Rebel planet. You must help us defeat the Imperials again.”
She said this with such certainty—as if I could roll out of bed and defeat an empire that spanned a thousand lightyears again. The mere idea that they were depending on me was alarming. Did these people think I could move mountains? Sure, I’d managed to help them out in the past, but to do it twice…?
“How’d you get in here, anyway?” I asked her.
She pointed toward my doorway vaguely. “Is there another access to your lair?”
“No… I mean how did you get down here into this base?”
“Ah, we have a transmat device here on the premises.”
“A what?”
“A transmat is a complex system that allows a sho
rt-ranged hyper-spatial tube to be established. Really, it’s a phasing unit.”
“What’s it like?”
“Somewhat similar to stepping through a dark passageway. The traveler experiences nothing more than disorientation. You, in fact, were picked up by a limited line-of-sight unit when we collected you for testing.”
“How does it work?” I asked.
“A person steps into a hyperspace tube briefly, and is protected from radiation by a class-five shielding spray. At that point—”
I held up my hand, a universal sign to stop that even the Kher understood.
“Good enough,” I said. “Why didn’t you drop my crew off using this transmat-thing when we mustered out from the Fleet?”
“At that time, we had no permanent presence on Earth. It was deemed pointless. Recently, however, the Imperials have begun to move again. We decided to make a greater investment in your planet.”
“Naturally,” I said rubbing at my itchy, sleepy eyes. “So Fleet has a transportation system connected to this facility… That might explain a lot… I take it your ship is in orbit over Earth now?”
“That’s right.”
“What are we going to do next?”
“It’s time to collect you for duty among the stars. Hammerhead was destroyed, but I’m sure I have another heavy fighter I could allow you to use.”
Her words made me wince slightly. Fortunately, she wasn’t in tune with human body language enough to understand the meaning of it. She clearly didn’t know I’d stolen Hammerhead, not lost her. She also didn’t know Earth had built her own ship. I figured it was time to get higher-level officials involved.
Accordingly, I stood up. “Let’s go talk to the people in charge of this installation.”
She stood up slowly. “You’re not in command of this cave complex?”
“Sadly, no. In Earth’s military, I’m a relatively small player.”
“That’s absurd. You are the savior of Earth. Your underhanded trickery helped countless worlds.”