John Maddox Roberts - Spacer: Window of Mind Page 10

  "I had it updated last year," the mate reported.

  "Maybe that'll do us," she said. "I want to know what's happened to all the ships of the old Angel Line. I thought we had the only one still spacing, but maybe I'm wrong. Let's go see."

  They trooped up to the bridge and crowded inside. Ham keyed the computer for the relevant information and watched it arrive on the screen. "Here we go: The Angel Line was founded in 2085, and the ships were built on Luna over the next ten years. First one was delivered in '86."

  "We're not interested in how they started," the skipper said, "just in how they ended up."

  "Let's see," Ham said. "Angel of the Nebulae collided with a Black Star Line ship in Mars orbit in 2127 and was scrapped as beyond salvage. Star Angel was destroyed during the Six Power War of 2110. Venusian Angel just plain disappeared during Whooppee transition." They all shuddered. Every year one or two ships went into Whooppee drive and were never heard from again. Spacer superstition held that the crews of

  such ships endured Whooppee horrors for eternity.

  "Angel of Sirius was scrapped as obsolete ten years ago. Here's Space Angel, we know all about her. Guardian Angel was an armed ship, used for convoying the others in the early days. Lots of ship-to-ship piracy back in those days. She was sold off when the Angel Line was absorbed by Four Planet Line in '47. Bought by a state-owned service during the Sirius system settlement. Used for inner-system convoying at that time. Pressed into naval service during several emergencies, the last time being during the War. She was used as an orbital picket and saw no action. She was mothballed after the War. That's where her record ends."

  "I'd forgotten about that one," the skipper said. "Let's have a look at her."

  Ham punched the display control and an image formed in the holo tank. It had been made by some early holographic process and the image was inferior, flickering every few seconds. It was good enough to show all relevant details, though. It showed a ship of the same class as the Space Angel, and for the first time Kiril saw what the Angel must have looked like when she was new. Guardian Angel had the same bluntly sleek lines, but she was resplendent with blue and gold enameling. Space Angel's enameling had been scoured off by more than a century of space dust.

  Michelle pointed at the ship's midsection. "There are the slots around the hold area that Kiril saw."

  "This is the one," the skipper said. "Kiril, I owe you an apology. You told it to us straight."

  Kiril didn't know what to say to that. It had never occurred to her that people should believe something she said just because she said it.

  "She was an armed ship," Torwald said, "so I'd imagine the slots are some kind of weapon ports."

  "Now comes the big question," Bert said. "Just what does this all lead up to?"

  "That has me stumped," said the skipper, "but I'll confess that I'm beginning to wish I'd let K'Stin take Izquierda out when I had the chance."

  "Told you," K'Stin said.

  * * *

  There was no progress in establishing contact-with the aliens that day. Once again they upped ship for the night. Kiril was relieved that she would be sleeping in her tiny cabin rather than m the palatial suite aboard the Supernova. She closed and, from habit, locked the hatch to her cabin. She was about to drop onto her bunk when she saw that it was already occupied by something green and furry. She squawked and flattened back against the hatch as it sat up and looked at her. A pair of bright, button eyes blinked at her solemnly from either side of a big, blobby nose. It was about two feet high as it sat with its stumpy legs curled under its nearly sphejical body. It scratched in its belly fur with a forepaw that looked like a primitive hand. Enormous ears formed a bonnet around its placid face. It looked harmless, but Kiril wasn't taking any chances. She reached behind herself and got the hatch open. She heard footsteps in the corridor and knew by their sound that it was Lafayette heading back to the engine room.

  "Hey," she called, "come here, there's something in my bunk and I think it must've got in from outside."

  Lafayette barreled into the cabin, knocking her aside, yanking a heavy wrench from his belt. He stopped and stared at the thing on the bed, then put the wrench away, laughing uproariously.

  "What's so funny?" she demanded. "What is that thing?"

  Lafayette picked it up, and the little beast tried to wrap its stubby arms around his neck. "What scared you is probably the most harmless life form since the sponge. This is Teddy. He's a Narcissan Teddybear. It's the only lite form known to have evolved lovability as a defense mechanism." He tickled it under the chin.

  "You mean it's a pet? How come I ain't—" she corrected herself hastily,"— haven't seen it before?"

  "He's been hibernating. Every couple of years he'll go off into a ventilation duct and sleep for a few months. That's why he's so skinny now. He must have awakened today and crawled out here through your vent. He can take off the grates and replace them."

  "Skinny, is he?" she said doubtfully. Teddy was shaped like a ball, and she wondered what he must look like when he was fat.

  "I'll take him up to the galley. He's probably hungry." He turned to go, and Kiril realized that she didn't want him to go just yet.

  "Lafayette," she said impulsively, "what's the story on Nancy?"

  "Nancy?" he said, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," she began lamely, "I mean, why's she so quiet? And why does she go off by herself to play that instrument?"

  "You heard her play her violin? You were lucky. She doesn't do it often. There's not much I can tell you about her, except she was born on Li Po. I know you've heard of that place. She was one of the few who got out before the battle."

  "Li Po. That says a lot." Like the rest of humanity, Kiril knew about Li Po. It had been a complete, although unplanned, planetary wipeout during the course of the most disastrous battle of a war full of military disasters. She had been unaware that anybody at all had survived. No wonder Nancy wanted to play her violin and cry sometimes. "Tor was a POW. Michelle tells me she had two husbands killed in the War. I guess most of this bunch has had it rough at some time."

  "Achmed never talks about the War," Lafayette said, "and 1 think Bert lost his family in it. He joined the Angel from a refugee camp just after the War."

  "How about you?" she asked. "You got a hard-luck story like the rest?"

  He smiled sheepishly. "No, I was born on a Family ship, the Rabinowitz Maru. She was almost as big as a Satsuma Class One, but there were only so many berths. When we got old enough to hold a ship's job, we drew lots and the losers had to go out on their own. I volunteered to leave because I wanted to try ships where everybody there wasn't a cousin or something, and see planets that weren't on the Family route."

  "How did you end up here?"

  "We landed on Sirius V one day and I spotted the Angel. I was looking for a free freighter, because Family spacers don't like the lines either. So I walked across the pad and asked if she was hiring. As it happened, they'd just discharged their ship's boy and needed a new one. So I stepped into the job you've got right now."

  "You mean the ship's kid doesn't automatically have to leave? Some of them stay on?"

  "I was lucky. Achmed needed an apprentice, and I always wanted to work with the engines, anyway." He scratched behind Teddy's ears. Apparently, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be mad at her for accepting Huerta's invitation. Kiril stroked Teddy's head, and he favored her with a look of amazing dumbness. She just had to like the silly thing, which was what the quality of lovability was all about.

  "Look, Kiril," he said hesitantly, "I wasn't trying to play big brother or anything the other day. It's just that, well, you're still new here, and the rest of us have lived in the Angel for years. It's asking too much for you to board that ship for our sake."

  "You think I'm not as loyal as you and the others because I haven't been here as long as you?"

  "That's not what I meant!" he said heatedly. "But we have some hardcase characters abo
ard this ship, and it seems wrong to me that the youngest here has to take the risks."

  "Risks? We're all in plenty of danger. Don't think that I'm absorbing it all just because I got separated from the rest of you for a few hours. There's lots to go around." Teddy, oblivious of the dispute, reached out and patted her cheek. "Anyway, you'd better get used to the idea, because I'm going to have to go back there before long."

  "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

  "They put that show on for me for a reason. They have a proposition to make, and they haven't made it yet. I figure they want me to sell you all out somehow, but I don't know what they figure to get from me. But pretty soon now, tomorrow or the next day, I'm going to get another invitation. Then you'd better make sure your gun's on full charge, because things'll start happening pretty quick after that."

  He stared at her for a few seconds. "I don't like it, but I'll admit you've got more guts than most." He turned and carried Teddy out of the cabin. She locked the hatch behind him.

  Kiril had barely gone to sleep when a loud clattering in the corridor outside awakened her. She sat up. "Looks like this ain't my night for relaxation." She cautiously opened the hatch.

  Sprawled on the deck at her feet was one of the Vivers. He was groaning and a thick fluid was seeping from the joints of his natural armor.

  Kiril hit the communicator beside her hatch. "Bridge! Whoever's awake up there, send some help down here! One of the Vivers is down and he looks bad sick."

  "Which one is it?" It was Torwald's voice.

  "I can't tell them apart unless they're standing together and I can see which one's taller."

  "Stay there."

  "Where do you think I'm gonna go, jerk?" she said.

  A minute later Torwald was in the corridor with her. Behind him was the skipper, looking as if she had just been roused from her bunk, which was undoubtedly the case.

  "It's B'Shant," Torwald said. He examined the swollen, seeping joints. "I think I know what this is. Where's K'Stin?"

  "Get away from him." It was the senior Viver. He had come from his quarters into the corridor with the incredible silence of movement that always seemed to be impossible in a creature so massive. They backed away as he stooped over his kinsman. Without visible effort, K'Stin picked up the four-hundred-pound B'Shant and slung him over a shoulder. "I will put him in our quarters and stand guard outside, in the access room. I will kill any who come too near." He strode off as silently as he had come.

  "What was that all about?" Kiril asked. "How sick is B'Shant and how come K'Stin's not taking him to the clinic?"

  "He's not sick," Torwald said. "Vivers have two skeletons, endo and exo. B'Shant's young and still growing. Like any creature with an exoskeleton, they have to shed their shells periodically in order'to grow. At that time they're vulnerable. Until his new shell hardens, a Viver is soft.,You know how they feel about that. Any Viver is obligated to drop everything to guard a kinsman while he's in the soft state."

  "Damn!" said the skipper. "Just when we're finally likely to need those two, they go dysfunctional on us. It's a good thing I have their beam weapons and explosives locked up. We'll just have to stay out of sword range. From now on the access passage to their quarters is off limits. Tor, see that everybody gets word. I'm going back to bed."

  The next morning Kiril was given K'Stin's rations to deliver. The Vivers' quarters were located in a storage room aft of the rear hold. At some early period of the ship's existence, the loom had been used for storing volatile materials and had a small access chamber as a buffer to separate it from the ship proper. Kiril stood well back from the hatch and pushed the tray in with a long pole.

  "Here's your food, K'Stin," she said. The Viver said nothing. He stood before the hatch to his quarters with a sword dangling from a massive fist.

  "Skipper says we land in an hour. Be ready to strap in when the warning sounds." Again he said nothing. Apparently, he was going to take the landing on his feet.

  "K'Stin, how long are you gonna stand there? We might need you bad pretty soon. You heard my story about those meres next door. Izquierda didn't bring them along because they're good company." Again silence from the Viver. Torwald had said that he had no idea how long a Viver's molting process lasted. The two might be out of action for weeks.

  Activities on the ground had taken on the atmosphere of boring routine. As the Space Angel crew crossed the pad to the shuttle, they could see that the landing party was much smaller today, consisting mostly of scientists. There was no pretense of ceremony. Homer went to join the communication party and the rest went to Nagamitsu, who stood with Pierce and Izquierda, all three looking profoundly bored.

  "Good morning, Captain HaLevy," Nagamitsu said. He seemed not to notice the absence of the two Vivers this morning. "It begins to appear that this expedition is going to be as boring as most scientific missions. Except for the scientists, of course. They're as happy and excited as kids with a new toy."

  "Admiral," the skipper said, "being as how we're of no great use here, do you have any objection if we up ship and clear out of here?"

  "The linguists tell me that they shall need Homer for another day or two. After that 1 have no objection to your going on about your business. Do either of you?" He looked at his companions. Pierce shook his head and Izquierda shrugged his shoulders casually.

  "Then you may leave as soon as I give you clearance," Nagamitsu went on. "Of course, you are all under security seal. None of you is to speak of these matters when you return to human-occupied space. You will be notified when you are free to speak. Is that understood?"

  "Sure," said the skipper. "What could we say anyway? We don't really know anything."

  A few minutes later Kiril saw Izquierda speaking with Huerta. Torwald and Finn had wandered to the edge of the permitted zone and were scanning the distant forest with viewers. Everyone was bored with watching the aliens and lately had taken to analyzing what they could see of the flora and fauna. She was going to join them when Huerta came to her.

  "Kiril, we never got to finish that tour of the Supernova. Since it looks like you'll be leaving tomorrow or the next day, would you like to come back up this evening?"

  Kiril had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The last thing she wanted in the world was to go back aboard that ship. But this was important, and she might be able to do far more good in tiie middle of Izquierda's lair than cleaning up the galley aboard Space Angel.

  "Sure," she said, as if she were overjoyed. "Let me okay it with my skipper."

  She found the skipper and Ham seated at a small folding table, playing a game of bridge against Michelle and Bert.

  "They're ready to make their pitch," Kiril reported. "I just got invited up to the Supernova again."

  The skipper laid down her cards and took her cigar out of her mouth. She didn't speak right away. "You all saw how Izquierda didn't object to our leaving in the next couple of days. He's ready to make his move. It's too dangerous."

  Bert spoke up. "Whatever's about to happen," he said quietly, "she'll have a better chance of surviving it in his ship than in ours." Kiril was startled. She hadn't thought of it that way.

  "I agree," Michelle said. "But don't say anything to the others. They'll try to talk you out of it."

  "Okay, Kiril," the skipper said. "I'll leave it up to you."

  "I'll go," she said quickly, before she could back out. "If I find out when he's going to move, I'll try to get you some kind of word." She turned and walked away. She was glad Lafayette wasn't there to make a scene.

  The day dragged on wearily, with occasional excited reports Horn the linguists that they were making headway. By this time Kiril was beginning to understand scientists, though. They got excited and happy when they discovered some new difficulty that needed solving. Things were breaking up and people were preparing to up ship when somebody spoke up behind her. "Hey, Kiril." She turned to see Ham standing there.

  "I was back aboard the Angel
this afternoon," said the mate, "and look what stuck itself into my boot." Almost hidden in his huge palm was one of Kiril's wrist knives. "Funny," he went on, "but I guess it don't have enough mass to trip the navy's detector, because I just walked under it and it didn't make a peep." He gave her his piano grin.

  She looked about quickly to make sure nobody was looking their way, then clipped the knife to her left forearm and drew the sleeve of her coverall over it. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on his cheek. "Thanks, Ham. I won't forget this."

  His face turned serious. "You just be careful. We don't take to losing shipmates aboard the Angel. You get in trouble, get us word and we'll come for you."

  She felt a sudden, unaccustomed rush of tears to her eyes as she turned and walked away. She knew now that he was more likely to need help than she was. But she felt unutterably relieved. It was stupid, she knew. Izquierda had a big ship and who knew how many men, but a four-inch blade made her feel much safer. Well, why not? The little knives had saved her life many times in Civis Astra, and it was as hostile a place as Izquierda's ship.

  She tried not to let her subdued mood show on the way up. She strove to respond brightly to Huerta's chatter and to look excited about the break in what had "become dull routine. They dropped off the navy people and proceeded to the Supernova as before.

  "I won't put you through the wardroom dinner routine again," Huerta said with an engaging smile. "You're in the same suite as before. Just order whatever you want over the comm. The kitchen is fully functional already. I have some things to attend to for now, but I'll come to your suite this evening." He turned and walked away. It sounded to her as if he were assuming a lot, but that didn't bother her. She could keep him at arm's length for as long as necessary. She sincerely hoped that was all she had to worry about.

  7

  The suite was just as she had left it. The carpeting was as soft as she remembered. But this time the piace looked even more uninviting than before. She closed the door and something in it buzzed and clicked. A prickly chill ran across her scalp. Carefully, her face blank, she tried the latch. It wouldn't budge. She was a prisoner. She wanted to scream and pound on the door, but she figured she was probably under observation. If she could do nothing else, she could at least deny them that satisfaction.