The Fenris Device

by Brian Stableford

  “What do I do?” I asked, of no one in particular. Having come so far so fast, I was tempted to don a spacesuit and rush over there at a sprint, but people have been known to get into trouble by acting headstrong like that.

  I called up Pallant on the circuit. I told them who I was, and pointed out that it would be the best part of an hour before the official vessel could get here. I asked them for advice.

  “Ferrier is a very important man,” said the officer on duty at Pallant, without bothering to relay my message back to his own superiors. “I think we’d all be grateful if you could render what help is possible right now.”

  All in all, it wasn’t very helpful advice.

  “Captain,” I said. “What do you reckon?”

  “We’d better board her,” he said. “I’ll go, with Eve.”

  “Hold on there,” I said. “If there’s any boarding to be done, it had better be me that does it.”

  “We don’t want to risk you,” said delArco. “If we get into trouble too….”

  “There’s a rescue ship already on the way,” I pointed out reasonably enough. “And if we leave Eve the Swan still has a complete crew. You can come with me if you like, but I’ve got to go. I’m the only one who might be capable of dealing with whatever’s wrong over there.”

  “OK,” he said, “You’re in.”

  I took a last look around inside the hood before peeling it off. The Gray Goose was transcee and making good progress. The other ship was also making a beeline for us, and she was fairly close. But I couldn’t see where she might be coming from. Certainly not one of the outer worlds. Did she just happen to be around? It was strange that she hadn’t identified herself and neither the Gray Goose nor the Iniomi port officer had mentioned any other ship in the vicinity.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Eve, and I realized that I was hesitating and looking puzzled.

  “Another ship,” I said. “Coming for us like a bat out of hell. Could hardly be a passer-by in a junk system like this.”

  “It’s the Cicindel,” said Ecdyon. He hadn’t said a word since takeoff. Every eye was suddenly turned upon him.

  “A Gallacellan ship?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s a Gallacellan ship doing loitering in the outer system?” I asked.

  “We have a base on Iniomi,” he said, very reasonably. “Why should we not have ships in the system?”

  “Why is he answering a mayday call?” I asked, although there was no real reason to be suspicious. Everybody answers a call for help, and if a Gallacellan spaceman knew no other word in an alien language, he would surely know what a mayday call was. On the other hand, though I knew what a Khormon cry for help sounded like, one Gallacellan click sounded just like any other to me.

  “We’re wasting time,” said Nick.

  “True,” I said, shelving my suspicion and getting back to the matter in hand. “All right, let’s suit up and go knock on the door. Eve, take the cradle. Don’t get jumpy, but stay ready to move away fast if we tell you to. Johnny, make sure everything stays perfect. Don’t lose concentration.”

  They both signaled their acquiescence with the slightly reproachful manner of people who do not need to be told how to handle themselves.

  Nick and I descended to the lockers and suited up.

  “Open circuit,” I said. “May as well hear everything as it happens instead of waiting for the ship.” On a suit set, of course, we could pick up calls coming in from Pallant or wherever, but we had only the power to send as far as the Swan—or the Gray Goose, when she down-transferred.

  We went into the lock together, and locked our chains into the side irons. We had about a thousand yards of cable, but we were only a couple of hundred feet away from the Saberwing.

  “You ever jumped before?” I asked him.

  “Only practicing,” he admitted.

  “Well, it’s exactly the same as practicing. Just don’t get nervous.”

  “It’s a long way down,” he said.

  “Ha, ha,” I said. I didn’t think it was funny. But then, I’m a spaceman. He was basically a grounder.

  We jumped together, but I didn’t insult him by offering to hold his hand. Anyhow, if he had made a mistake, holding his hand would have only sent us both wrong.

  We both made it. No trouble. We hit the skin and we both managed to stick. Nick cursed as he bumped—he’d pushed off a little harder than was necessary—but he covered up his imperfection. I began to worm my way over the skin of the ship toward the lock. It was a small ship—a pleasure boat or an interplanetary hopper. Maybe an executive craft—the Pallant officer had said Ferrier was a big cheese, and that usually meant big business, seeing as monarchies are out of fashion.

  Inside of a couple of minutes I had the outer lock all ready to open, and I had my hand on the handle, when a message suddenly came in. It was aimed at the ship, but it was definitely meant for us.

  “Pallant to Hooded Swan. Urgent message follows on bleep.”

  “Bloody idiot,” I said. “Now we’ll have to wait for them to play it back.”

  “Coming over now,” said Eve, having rewound promptly.

  There was a string of figures and identity codes that I didn’t bother listening to. It was a police message directed to the port authority on Pallant.

  “We have located Ferrier and the captain of the ship. The Saberwing has been stolen. Repeat, the Saberwing has been stolen. Advise caution.”

  “Well, well,” I said noncommittally.

  “What do we do?” said Nick.

  “Thieves can get into trouble like anyone else,” I said. “More likely to if they don’t know enough about ships to handle them.”

  “Maybe we should wait for the police,” he said.

  “We’re here now,” I pointed out.

  “We’re not armed.”

  “We didn’t come to fight a war. We came to help. If some poor idiot in there has buggered the engine he may be hurt. He’s not likely to start laying about us with an iron bar—he’s in no situation to be playing games like Custer’s last stand. OK, the ship’s been ripped off. So what?”

  “All right,” he said. “If you say so....”

  He always was a remarkably passive captain.

  I opened the lock. It was big enough only for one at a tune.

  “I’ll go first,” I said.

  “No you won’t,” he told me. It wasn’t that he wanted to be a hero, it was just that he didn’t like clinging to the outside of a tin can 150 mk from the nearest terra firma. Who could blame him? I swung out of the way, and let him climb into the lock.

  “You know how to operate it?” I queried.

  “I’m not an idiot,” he informed me. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure. I sealed the lock behind him, and I felt the vibrations as he clamped it shut.

  Then I waited. Time passed. The lock went through its full cycle, and I opened it again, and followed the captain through.

  On the other side of the lock there was a square chamber, not the customary corridor. Nick was standing against the wall, with his hands held above his head in a ludicrous fashion.

  A dwarf in a spacesuit was pointing a gun at him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It might seem, in retrospect, that my actions of the entire morning were somewhat precipitate. From the moment that Johnny had kicked open my door I had been moving at top speed. Never once had I paused to think. This is not the way I normally conduct myself. It is true that I had things on my mind, and it is also true that events had piled themselves up with uncommon alacrity, but these truths did not prevent me from feeling an all too-acute sensation of failure as I peered at the little man and his not-so-little gun.

  We were both covered.

  “This seems to happen a lot, these days,” I commented.

  “You can’t complain,” Nick said sourly. He was no doubt thinking that the last time he had boarded a ship the guy who had met him with a gun was me.

  I turned my attention to
the gunman. “Don’t tell me,” I said, realizing now what I ought to have thought of while I was still on the other side of the airlock. “You’re on the run and you intend to hijack the Hooded Swan in order to make your getaway.”

  There was silence. I could see the little man’s face—a particularly ugly face—moving inside the helmet, as if he were trying to speak to us.

  “He hasn’t got his caller switched on,” I said to Nick.

  “I don’t think he knows how,” he replied.

  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to step forward and touch helmets so we could speak. He’d probably shoot me en route. So I simply kept my hands in the air and leaned back against the bulkhead, with an expression of infinite patience on my face. The little man seemed to get even uglier. I glanced sideways at the pressure gauge beside the airlock. It revealed that the air pressure was normal.

  “Why are we wearing suits at all?” I asked Nick.

  “How do I know?” he said. “You want to take yours off?”

  “Ours not to reason why,” I said.

  There was a click as the gunman finally tongued the switch that opened the call circuit.

  “Welcome to the conversation,” I said, before he had a chance to speak.

  “You’re Grainger,” he said.

  That gave me pause.

  “You were expecting us?” I asked.

  “That’s right. I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice sounded thin and hoarse. “Now just do as you’re told and everything will be fine.” He picked up a bag from the floor behind him. “We’re going back to your ship,” he said.

  “I don’t suppose there’s much point in my telling you that you can’t possibly get away with this?” I said.

  “No,” he replied.

  “I thought not. But there are one or two other formalities. Is there anyone else on board?”

  “No.”

  “Is the ship really damaged?”

  “No. But it will blow up in a few minutes.”

  “P-shifters don’t explode.”

  “This one will,” he told me. “I’ve put a bomb in it.” His logic was devastating.

  “We’d better go back to the Hooded Swan, then, hadn’t we?” I said. I stepped toward the airlock.

  “Not yet,” said the little man. “I’m going first. If anyone on board your ship tries anything at all that I don’t like, you and your friend here are still going to be aboard this ship when she blows. You understand me?”

  “You listening, Eve?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Better do as the nice man says. Tell Johnny to put his gun away and stay in the drive-chamber.”

  “He hasn’t moved,” she said.

  “That’s good. After you, then, my good man.”

  I moved to the side. The little man walked past me into the airlock. As soon as the door closed behind him I switched myself out of the circuit and motioned to Nick to do the same. Then I touched helmets with him.

  “With a reasonable amount of luck,” I said, “we’ll never see him again. Anyone who doesn’t know how to switch on a suit caller doesn’t know how to cross from one ship to another.”

  “Suppose he does make it?” Nick wanted to know.

  “That’s his problem. Take this ship to Penaflor, I suppose.”

  “And?”

  “We take the ship to Penaflor. Or wherever. He isn’t my problem. I don’t care whether he gets away or not.”

  All of which seemed perfectly sensible. At the time.

  After a decent interval, I switched my caller back on, and heard the hoarse voice telling us he’d made it and that we could come over, one at a time, and no funny business.

  I looked at Nick, saw he’d heard, and shrugged philosophically. Nick crossed back to the Swan, and I followed him. The little man was waiting for us. He’d already taken off his suit. He was about four foot seven or eight, with a short neck and a big head. His face was lined, but he didn’t seem to me to be very old—perhaps twenty-five, but no more. His hair was black and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. His clothes were old and tattered, but not dirty. The bag he’d brought with him was bulging as if it held rigid things of odd shape and size. He watched us desuit without a word.

  “Control room,” he said, as soon as we’d finished, motioning up the ship with his gun.

  “Yes, sir, Captain sir,” I said. I led the way, Nick followed, and the dwarf brought up the rear.

  Once we were all sitting happily, he relaxed slightly, and looked around, first at Eve, then at Ecdyon. He seemed pleased to see Ecdyon, or at least amused.

  “The Saberwing is timed to go off pretty soon,” he said. “But before we go, there’s something I want to do. Better let me get on with it as fast as I can, because if there’s any difficulty we might still be here when she explodes. I have no idea what sort of damage will be done to this ship, but I imagine we won’t get away scot-free. So, the less trouble I have, the sooner we can get out of harm’s way. Now you—delArco, is that your name?—get out of the control room. You two, the woman and the alien, get back in that corner and stand still. Hold one another’s hands and keep them visible. You stay put.” The last remark, of course, was addressed to me, and indicated that I should stay in the cradle.

  Nick left quietly. I knew he’d go straight down and get himself a gun, and give one to Johnny as well, and I couldn’t see the point of letting him go. But the little man crossed to the door behind him, took two triangular wedges out of his bag, stuck them in the door above and below the handle, and gave them a couple of solid blows each with a hammer.

  Simple, but neat. We wouldn’t be interrupted by any heroes.

  Then he came back across to the control console. He inspected it carefully, then moved around to the side of it, and opened one of the inspection hatches. He inspected the interior.

  “Now,” he said. “I’m going to have to put my gun down while I work. Don’t get ideas. I’ll know anything you decide to do before you do it. I know exactly what each of you is thinking. I can manage two minds at once. You just better stick to that Gallacellan’s hands so he can’t try anything. Just stay calm, and we’ll be on our way soon.”

  “I wouldn’t mess about in there if I were you,” I told him.

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Eve.

  He didn’t answer. He put the gun down and began to pull stuff out of his bag like a magician pulling streamers out of a hat. He worked fast.

  I answered Eve’s question for her. “He’s putting a bomb into the console,” I said. “He doesn’t think that the gun’s enough. He wants to be able to send us all to hell with a flick of his finger. He’s a real friendly character.”

  “What is his purpose?” asked Ecdyon.

  “His purpose,” I said, “is to evade the police boat that’s heading for us at a rate of knots. He reckons the Swan can outrun her and outmaneuver her armaments. He may well be right, but I wouldn’t care to guarantee the second part if the Gray Goose gets close. He knows my name and he knew Nick’s. There was nothing wrong with the Saberwing, he claims, so it’s likely the mayday was a trap for us. I imagine that he wants very desperately to be out of this system in a hurry. Someone back home doesn’t like him very much. I suspect he’s been a bad boy. Whipping Mr. Ferrier’s nice space-yacht is probably the least of his horrible crimes.”

  The little man picked up the gun again, and stood away from the hatch. He picked it up one-handed, dropped it into place, and closed the catch.

  “My name’s Maslax,” he said. “And you’re wrong. Ferrier’s yacht was just to get out here. I haven’t even started my career of crime yet.” There was a very unpleasant edge to his voice.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “We are at your service. What do you fancy? Raiding the Caradoc treasure houses at Vargo’s Star? Maybe robbing the Library at New Alexandria?”

  Even as I said it, I could feel a very unpleasant suspicion creeping aro
und in the back of my mind.

  “Not likely,” he said, and the unpleasant edge got worse. “We’ll start with Leucifer V. Mormyr. I’m going after the Varsovien.”

  I felt suddenly rather cold. My eyes went toward Ecdyon. “You bastard,” I said. “You bloody snake. This is your doing, isn’t it? You cooked this up. You knew I wouldn’t go down again. You knew you’d have to force me. Well, you can drop dead. I’m not going anywhere near Mormyr.”

  Maslax looked at his watch. “The Saberwing will go bang in less than three minutes,” he said. “I suggest that you put some distance between the two ships, if you want to escape injury. I wouldn’t want the Hooded Swan to be holed. I need her.”

  Wordlessly, I reached out for the controls. I took a quick look inside the hood and connected the electrodes to my neck. I gave her a quick burst which took us away from the Saberwing in a long arc. I put a few thousand miles of empty space between ourselves and the doomed ship, and then I let her slip back into a groove at low velocity. Then I ripped the hood off and turned my attention back to the Gallacellan.

  “I know nothing about this,” said Ecdyon, as soon as he knew that he had my attention. “Nothing at all.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. If not Ecdyon, then perhaps it was Stylaster. But Stylaster would have had to use a go-between. Why not Ecdyon? Was this the sort of thing that Stylaster would even think of? The burst of insight began to look pretty faint in the light of reason. The Gallacellans were not, so far as was known, addicted to foul play. Quite the reverse. The idea of Stylaster using a man like Maslax for his own ends was patently ludicrous. And what did Ecdyon have to gain, if he were acting on his own behalf?

  Maslax was looking on with obvious amusement.

  “How did you know about the Varsovien?” I asked him.

  “I can read minds,” he said.

  “Gallacellan minds?”

  “No.”

  “Then how did you know? Only the Gallacellans knew about the ship.”

  “You knew.”

  “You’re not trying to tell me you read it in my mind?” I said. “Is that how you knew my name? And Nick delArco’s?”