“Since Captain Spktm is around to caution us, we will not be rash,” Ashiant said before turning to the security officer. “Strange that they’re so cautious on an approach course when they’re quite willing to suicide to destroy a Hiver. Whatever! Commander Vandermeer, you’ll lead the Human contingent. Pick a boarding party of fifteen, with all necessary specialists represented. Declan, get me channels through to Captains Smelkoff, Sutra, and Chesemen. They’re to send teams, too. We won’t be close enough to launch the shuttles for another six hours even at our present speed. That gives us plenty of time for an interspecies, intership conference.”
“Indeed, sir,” Vandermeer said, well pleased with her assignment but, as her glance slid over him, he caught a brief flare of resentment from the woman. It didn’t have the tone of Malice: she simply did not like having to be responsible for a civilian.
Briskly she gave orders, picking from the Vadim’s crew and then accessing the other ships to discover whom they were sending.
Thian had to sit heavily on an increasing excitement as he listened to Vandermeer with growing respect. She ordered the big shuttle to be ready for launch in six hours. Full radiation suits must be put on board, full medical and emergency packs. From Communications, she wanted additional print-out of all the probe’s data for the briefing. All officers were to be armed with the new stunners, developed from the one hand weapon the ’Dinis had found effective against Hive drone warriors. The boarding party was to join her in shuttle bay in exactly one hour from now, ready to go.
“Have you been issued any ex-vehicular gear, Mr. Lyon?” she asked, finally turning to him.
“No, ma’am.”
“Then get some.” With that she rose from the table and strode out of the ready room.
“Well, you heard her,” Ashiant said, smiling.
“I also heard you say that I’m going along in several capacities, sir. Which?”
“Interpreter, observer, and . . . lastly, but most important, the Talent to whip someone out of trouble if necessary.”
* * *
Thian got himself a full-radiation suit, and the requisite stunner which Lieutenant Sedallia handed him with a supercilious expression on his face.
“I don’t imagine you’ve needed to handle a weapon before . . .”
“On the contrary, I’ve hunted for the family table since I was old enough to pull the trigger of a rifle.” At the surprised look, Thian added, “And we always ate well.” He sighted along the thick barrel. “But this is a spread weapon anyway. I certainly ought to be able to hit a shuttle bay door with this.” He slapped it back into its clip and, with a nod to the ratings handing out equipment, left.
He could “hear” the comments and most were complimentary. Sedallia wasn’t that popular.
Thian was prompt at the intergroup meeting, held in the ready room, with screens linking the six ships of the squadron. Ashiant introduced Commander Vandermeer as the Human leader and she quite ably greeted her ’Dini counterpart. Thian kept his expression neutral but he was rather pleased with his student. Her sentences were, of course, brief and there were pauses while she accessed words from her vocabulary but Plr, the leader of the ’Dini boarding parties, understood her perfectly.
The ’Dini showed her a chart of the vessel and identified certain of the remaining portions as the part of the main propulsion unit, fuel storage, resting cubicles, nesting and work quarters. The queens’ accommodations had been blown away for they were usually in the center: some peripheral weapons were still in place as well as several arsenals and storage areas. Plr then drew longitudinal lines, separating the wreck into six sections, and assigned a boarding team to each. Vandermeer agreed with the assignments even when Plr preempted the sector holding the remaining weapons.
“It’s more familiar with them than any of us,” she said to her own group.
The meeting was concluded and final preparations made which, Vandermeer said, would begin with a good high protein meal.
* * *
“Leviathan,” Thian murmured more to himself than Lieutenant Ridvan Auster-Kiely sitting beside him.
“Say what?” Ridvan asked, bending his ear toward Thian.
“That thing is not just big, it’s a Leviathan,” he repeated, struggling not to hunch his shoulders away from the immensity of the damaged space vessel. Thian remembered that “Leviathan” was what his grandmother had called the Hive ship that had been destroyed beyond Deneb over forty years before.
The shuttle was obediently waiting at the forty spatials to see if there was any reaction from the vessel. The ’Dinis had said that a Hive ship would automatically open fire on anything that approached even though it was out of range.
“What’s a Leviathan?”
“Something as big as this.”
“This is not the time to be funny.”
“The best time.”
“Be serious, Thian. Say, couldn’t it be a planetoid? I mean, it could have been hollowed out . . .”
“And then metal coated and levels dug out?” Thian chuckled. “No, Ridvan, it’s a ship and not as big as say, Callisto, either.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
Ridvan was nervous and didn’t bother to hide it. Thian was neither nervous nor scared and wondered if this was wrong. Excitement was the prevailing sentiment within the shuttle certainly. He knew his senses were all heightened and he wondered that he didn’t feel—even through the vacuum of space—the sting-pzzt of proximity to a Hive artifact. No one else in this boarding party had ever been so close to a Hive artifact. Admittedly he had only helped dig up a panel on Deneb, exciting enough in itself when you’re only ten, and help sling it into the ’copter scoop. That still doesn’t make you an expert, he told himself firmly.
They waited, getting bored with the view of what Thian began to describe as a semi-demihemi-sphere. The northern pole was intact all around to about the tenth latitude in the east where damage began. The western hemisphere extended almost to a tropic of Cancer in places but the southern pole cap had been totally blown away. As if something, incredibly mammoth, had taken a massive bite out of the Hive sphere, leaving pits, pith, and intestines behind.
Finally the ’Dinis judged it safe to approach: slowly but surely.
Their shuttle, the one from the Beijing, and one ’Dini angled to starboard, closing on the wreck. The third Human shuttle followed at a discreet distance. They passed around the outer skin of the wreck and immediately Thian was conscious—even inside the shuttle—of the sting-pzzt effect of Hive metal on Talented perceptions. He ran his tongue around his mouth but the actinic taste was in the back of his mouth, far stronger than it had been when he was in direct contact with the Hive panel. Was it because this was a newer construction? Louder or more potent in its emanations? He wished he could contact his grandmother or grandfather right now.
The captains had decided to wait until there were concrete details to report before publicizing this expedition: Thian had had to report that the discovery of the ship had caused wide panic on every inhabited world. So he was as glad not to have to add to it. Nor to say anything about his participation in further close investigations.
But should he report to Commander Vandermeer the intensity of the Hive aura? Captain Ashiant had known of it. Such information was not really of use, he thought, except that it verified the origin of the ship. As if there was much doubt about that.
The shuttle wended its way through immense shards of outer hulls, inner skins, deck levels, past structural members as thick as the Vadim. Big as that star class ship was, she, and a hundred of her sister ships, could have docked in a quadrant of this one.
Everyone reacted as the shuttle’s exterior lights began to illuminate details of the innards they were traversing.
“Storage area?” one of the engineers suggested, pointing to odd-shaped containers partially fused against bulkheads. They passed much smaller divisions the size of the Vadim’s adequately large shuttle bay. Bent tubin
g several meters across dangled pendulously into emptiness.
On the forward screen, they saw the ’Dini shuttle veer to port, heading toward its appointed landing spot. Thian, being nearest the porthole, looked back as long as he could, to see the ’Dini disembarking, resembling each other in their space gear.
Then all too soon their shuttle landed on its designated site. Helmets clicking into place were the only sounds. Then they were on suit air.
“Set your watches, gentlemen,” Commander Vandermeer said, her voice muffled on the intercom, “you have exactly three hours and twenty minutes’ oxygen.”
“I thought we had four hours of air, sir?” Auster-Kiely said.
“We do, but for practical purposes we’ll all assemble back here in three hours and twenty minutes. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Someone in the group let out a snide bark of a laugh which Vandermeer instantly silenced.
“Enough of that! Let’s move out. Mertz, Jimenez, Kaldi, go as far up as you can in this segment, then work down. Sedallia, see if those mangled coils might be drive components. Kes, you go with Sedallia. All of you: call out if you spot something one of the specialists should examine. Take all the snaps you can but remember to light ’em. It’s darker in here than the devil’s belly.” She went on assigning search areas. “Remember to keep one hand for yourself and don’t drift off. We can’t waste time hauling you back in from outer space. Lyon, you stick on this level with Kiely. There seem to be undamaged compartments along this corridor. Let’s move it.”
As soon as the others had dispersed in their appointed directions, Kiely pulled Thian close enough for them to touch helmets and Thian could see the furious expression on the lieutenant’s face. He resented being treated like a liability.
Thian grinned back at him, gesturing toward the dark interior and mentally trying to soothe the young man. He found that the sting-pzzt dampened his Talent: muffled it so he gave up trying to project. He started forward, his boots locking on the plates of the deck so that each step required effort. Then he saw Kiely floating ahead of him, grabbing handholds where he could to propel himself forward, his helmet light illuminating the way. Thian lifted one foot free, grabbed hold of a solid spar and yanked the other boot loose and followed Kiely’s aerial example.
Great heat had certainly seared and boiled any organic substances away, leaving only burst containers that had exploded and some that had apparently imploded. Depending on how long ago the catastrophe had occurred, some traces of the contained substances might be found for analysis. They could do that on their return to the shuttle. As he and Kiely made steady progress into the interior, Thian saw nothing very promising, except that the Hive had been transporting an unimaginable amount of cargo or stores. For an hour, they poked, prodded, peered, squeezing carefully into compartments to either side of this broad but squat ceilinged avenue.
According to his understanding of Hive ship construction, this corridor might be just above the doubly shielded quarters where, traditionally, the queens were sequestered, constantly laying the eggs that would be stored for use in setting up the next colony. But, look as hard as he could, he could find no access to the lower level. When he saw the first of the tubes, he wondered what function it had performed. Then he came upon a cluster and the sting-pzzt that had been constantly with him increased in intensity. That alone was unusual enough to make him call to Kiely to come back a moment.
“Whatcha find, Thian?”
“Don’t know but here’s a service door, or something, and—whaddya know, it opens,” and Thian was as surprised as Kiely when his jerk pulled the panel free and it slowly drifted out. Thian pressed his foot against the upper half and it settled to the deck.
Kiely, floating above him, poked his head down the opening, the light narrowing as it pierced the blackness of the tunnel.
“Up and down,” and Kiely experimented with lighting. “Long way up and not so long a way down. Down’s it.” And before Thian could caution the young lieutenant, he had pushed off down the tunnel.
“Commander,” Thian said, dialing more power to his helmet communit, “Kiely and I are investigating some conduits or tunnels that appear to be intact and lead to a lower level. We’ve found nothing else of note.”
“Proceed with caution. Much of this wreck is just waiting to fall apart. Kaldi had a lucky escape when a bulkhead started to go.”
Thian did not go head first: he stepped off the deck and let that impulsion and his own weight carry him slowly down. Consequently he saw what Kiely had missed: regular openings off the tunnel, compartments that appeared to be sealed with a semi-transparent material which had not boiled, seared, ex- or imploded, and which gave off the most virulent sting-pzzt he’d ever felt. Wincing in discomfort, he slowed his descent by one of the apertures and let his helmet light pierce the gloom. What he made out of the occluded interior made him gasp.
“Commander, I’ve found something,” he said though his mouth and throat were dry with the actinic flavor.
“What, Lyon?” and the Commander sounded annoyed by his vagueness.
“I think it may be Hive larvae, sir.”
Kiely’s helmet bumped into his feet, pushing him out of alignment with the opening.
“You what?”
“Belay that, Kiely!” Thian roared back, grabbing at the smooth sides to try and halt his upward progress.
“I think you’re right,” Kiely murmured in a subdued tone and shot past Thian to their point of entry.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
THERE was such a babble over the helmet comms that it took Vandermeer minutes to get the noise level down to where individual orders could be understood.
“Just how can that be, Mr. Lyon?” she demanded. “The probe registered no life readings.”
“Yes, ma’am, but larvae aren’t alive—yet. Besides which, I don’t think the probe’s sensors were programmed to pick up that sort of . . . of unborn things.”
“Point!” Her admission was not exactly grudging. “What’s your position?”
He gave it while Kiely jostled him about as the lieutenant tried to see into one or another of the larva tunnels.
“Are you sure, Thian?” he asked, touching helmets and turning down his comm. His face was worried.
“As sure as I can be, never have seen Hive larvae, but whatever it is in there isn’t damaged and this is also the general area on a Hive ship where eggs were stored.”
Kiely still wasn’t sure. “Fardles, but there’s acres of ’em. How many d’you suppose are in each tube? tunnel? comb? And how are we going to blast ’em in such a confined position?”
“Blast them?” Thian was stunned. “They shouldn’t be blasted, Ridvan. They should be studied.”
“HUH?” Now it was the lieutenant’s turn to be stunned. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Thian. Here we have hundreds of our enemy . . .”
“Helpless and vulnerable! Great targets for warriors!”
“No need to come on like that! But you certainly don’t expect us to leave all these . . . these things alive?”
“Considering how little we actually know about Hivers, this is a find of unparalleled magnitude. Even more important than the ship itself.”
“I can’t believe you! Let ’em live?”
“I think you’ll find that the ’Dinis will insist on it.”
To make certain of that, Thian turned his helmet communit up to full and crisply informed Plr of the find.
“Lyon!” roared Vandermeer. “I heard that!”
“Of course, sir. The ’Dinis expect to be informed of any unusual discovery,” Thian said, deliberately misinterpreting her.
What’d you expect from a goddamned weasel lover!
Despite distance and comm distortion there was no mistaking Malice’s tone nor an implicit promise of retribution. That chilled Thian more than the prospect of someone trying to destroy the most important alien artifact—if one could so term the larvae—
that had yet been found.
So far the xenobiologists had had to extrapolate mock-ups of Hive queens, drones, workers and other specialized forms from fragments of corpses strewn in space after encounters, or charred remains on destroyed ships. Though much had been learned even from such imperfect material, they were still guessing about the true form and nature of the types of Hiver which made up a ship’s crew.
“Belay that!” Vandermeer bellowed again to quell the vociferous protests. She went on in an icy voice. “You’ve exceeded your authority, Lyon.”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t.”
“You’re in for it now, for sure, Lyon,” Kiely said and his voice was harshly accusing.
“I operate under directives of higher authority than yours, hers or even Captain Ashiant’s,” Thian said as stoutly as he could but the objections had shaken him. “Get back up and lead them here.”
“Me? Go? Why you’ll . . .”
“I won’t do anything to them. I can’t trust you not to.” And, grabbing Kiely by the arm, he thrust him upward in the tube while the lieutenant sputtered in indignation.
Thian watched as Kiely continued upward, and then propelled himself out of the shaft. Thian waited until he could hear Kiely’s angry mental noise diminishing. Then he, too, exited the tube and propelled himself to one of the few chambers that opened onto space itself. The hole wasn’t large but it also wasn’t shielded by the ship’s hull material.
He had never tried such an unpowered stretch of his mind before. It would have been better to use the shuttle’s engines but he didn’t have time enough to go that far—and make certain the larvae would be summarily destroyed by those coming to see what he’d found. The larvae must be saved! The information that could be revealed far outweighed any momentary destructive satisfaction.
Grandfather! Jeff Raven! Earth Prime! Listen to me! He put the energy of every cell of his body in that call.
An unpowered send? I’ll tan your hide, boy!
Damia's Children Page 14
