“Report on full status,” Kinsolving said.
“Power levels have been reduced to maintain drive field energy” said the ship’s computer. “There is a damaged circuit in the main power branching, origin of damage unknown. This caused the lighting level to drop to zero lumina.”
“Can you pinpoint the problem?”
“No.”
Kinsolving shrugged this off. He could worry about finding the severed power cable later — if there was a later for them. The leaking coolant had to be fixed first. Otherwise, in only four hours they would never be able to shift back into normal space.
Kinsolving stopped at the airlock and found a spacesuit that almost fit. He would have to hunch over slightly and be careful not to straighten up suddenly, but Kinsolving thought he could do the spot welding necessary while wearing the suit.
“Bart, why are you wearing that silly thing?” asked Lark. She had a small light on a gooseneck in her hand.
“The gases formed when I heat the coolant sheath will be poisonous. You’re going to have to wait outside while I work. And make certain that the vent fans don’t exhaust from the engine room into the rest of the ship.”
“How do I do that?”
“Put on a spacesuit and check with the ship’s computer.”
She frowned. This did not seem glamorous enough for her, but Lark silently went to find a spacesuit that would be both chic and protective.
Kinsolving heaved a deep breath, sealed the helmet and went into the engine room. He closed the door and lightly touched the spot where the robot had bored through the seal with the welding laser. It hissed and popped, then melted enough to close the hole. Only then did he turn his attention to the problems facing him.
Shining the light across the surface of the tubing showed each jet clearly. Nine holes. More than he’d seen on the first examination. Kinsolving peered closely at the tubes, wondering what type of stainless steel had been used. He was expert at fixing bulky, rugged mining equipment. Usually a sledgehammer sometimes proved as useful as delicate electronic probes. But such repair techniques would not do now.
He sighted through the welding laser guide, then lightly touched the trigger. A moment’s flare almost blinded him. The suit helmet did not have polarizers built into the visor. He blinked through tears and got rid of most of the dancing spots in front of his eyes. Then Kinsolving tried again.
This produced a spurt that looked like steam.
He moved away and ran a gloved hand over the faceplate. The coolant had vaporized instantly — and it had become corrosive. Even if it had not been poisonous, Kinsolving saw, he would have needed some form of face protection. The brief contact with the gas jet had eaten into the plastic and frosted it over.
“Careful, now,” he said, moving back into position. More carefully, he aimed the laser and squeezed the trigger. The geyser of droplets stopped. “And again and again,” he said, talking to himself.
Slowly, carefully, Barton Kinsolving fused the holes that had been drilled by Cameron’s diabolical robot. He could only hope that he had begun the work in time.
Being lost in hyperspace was not something he enjoyed thinking about. Being lost forever was even more frightening.
CHAPTER IV
A soft chime sounded. Cameron’s eyes blinked in the proper direction. The slight movement caused robotic devices throughout his warren of rooms to come alive. No one sought him out here in this subterranean vault except for assassination.
Cameron had survived several attempts. His work for the board of directors of Interstellar Materials did not make him many friends — even among those he served so well.
The annunciator at the door leading to his outer office gonged louder, more for the effect it had on any callers than to alert him. Cameron swung around behind his large desk, a small gesture bringing up the light level and turning off both the electronic scent organ and the music that allowed him to concentrate.
“Come in, Director Humbolt,” Cameron said in a booming voice. A dozen different machines studied his caller, evaluated the information, processed it and came to a conclusion in a fraction of the time it took for the chime to die.
Kenneth Humbolt stalked into the dimly lit room, hardly glancing around. Cameron considered this sheer folly on the man’s part, but his opinion of Humbolt had never been high. Without preamble, Humbolt said, “We’ve got real problems, Cameron.”
“We, Director?” Cameron smiled at the other man’s discomfort. His quick mind worked through the possibilities. Humbolt ranked high enough in the corporation to summon a menial, yet he had personally come to confront Cameron in his office.
Why? Several ideas came to Cameron. Humbolt might feel his offices were not security tight and that Fremont — or more likely Maria Villalobos — spied on him. The director might feel more comfortable here. But that struck Cameron as farfetched. Although these offices were cleaner of spy impedimenta than any of the other company suites, that did not mean Humbolt should feel more secure here. Quite the contrary.
Cameron discarded this notion in favour of Humbolt’s ass being in grave danger.
“What can I do for you, Kenneth?” he asked quietly. Humbolt’s eyes flashed at the lack of respect. When he did not chastise Cameron for it, the robot master knew his appraisal had been accurate. Kenneth Humbolt’s days as a power in IM were limited.
“It’s Kinsolving. We don’t have any indication that he’s dead.”
“My robots were aboard the von Neumann. The ship would be destroyed after shift. There has never been a vessel recovered that had drive problems.”
“Fremont needs positive proof. The Zeta Orgo business is reaching a crucial point. We must attain deep penetration into that market if IM is to keep pace with other companies.”
Cameron nodded, taking all this in. He had wondered if Interstellar Materials had devised the Stellar Death Plan by itself or if others were involved. The possibility now existed, from what Humbolt said, that IM’s role was minor, that the other Earth-based corporations were the real powers behind the Plan.
“What exactly is it that IM is supposed to do on Zeta Orgo? On Web, I think they call it.”
“You know damned well what the planet’s called, Cameron.”
“Would you like to sit, Kenneth? A drink to steady your nerves? Something stronger? A tranquilizer?” Cameron fought back a broad smile. He saw the anger reaching a deadly point in the other man. To goad Humbolt too far now would require the use of force to restrain him. Cameron preferred to get as much from the director as he could without resorting to violence.
But if it proved necessary, ten different devices would burn/laser/stab/cripple Humbolt where he stood.
“It was your mistake that allowed Kinsolving to escape. You’re the one who is going to correct it. God, what a glitch this has turned out to be. It’s taking up all my time!”
“My fault that he escaped? Come, come, Kenneth, that’s not so. He did get through a checkpoint I established at the Landing Authority, but it was not my order that lasered the shuttle when an intercept was possible. Such an interception would have neatly captured Kinsolving, preserved the lives of valued company employees, not created unfortunate shock waves among those privileged enough to be invited to the celebration — and it would have given proof that he had been stopped.”
Cameron studied Humbolt and watched the sweat beading on the director’s upper lip. How he had attained such an exalted position in IM’s power structure lay beyond Cameron’s imagination. Humbolt was completely unlike Villalobos or Liu or Fremont. Those powerful people shared the traits that so attracted Cameron to his robots. Emotion never clouded their decisions. They worked relentlessly. They might be hurt but they continued on. Only total destruction would stop them.
But Kenneth Humbolt? What a sorry figure he cut in their rank!
The director started to pace nervously. Cameron had to deactivate several of his robots to keep them from flying into action when Humbolt entered their sphere of influenc
e.
“That’s all behind us now. We’ve got to make sure that nothing goes wrong on ZOo.”
“ZOo?” Cameron asked mildly.
“What else do you call a world filled with animals?” snapped Humbolt. Cameron allowed the man an instant of superiority. Let him ridicule the arachnoids and their planet. It mattered little to Cameron.
“Tell me about this project,” said Cameron. “After all, if I’m to help you — and further the Stellar Death Plan — I need information.”
He saw that Humbolt was torn on this point. Such an audacious strike against all aliens had to be kept quiet.
Cameron knew that the merest hint of such a plan might trigger massive reprisals against all humans.
He closed his eyes and pictured Earth turning into a white blossoming flower of dust and death as the alien fleets destroyed it. That might be the least of their woes. Human interests stretched across the galaxy now, no matter how tenuously. The entire human race might be removed if the aliens reacted in that fashion.
“All right,” Humbolt said, caving in to Cameron’s pressure. This acquiescence proved how desperate Humbolt’s position was on the board of directors.
“Web. Tell me about it.”
“The aliens are arachnoid. We have conducted extensive studies and learned that they are immune to most drugs we might use to subvert and undermine their governmental authority. However, this form of Bizarre can become addicted to a device.”
“Yes, yes,” Cameron said impatiently. “That was what the unpleasantness on Deepdig was about. You need the pure, unstressed single crystal of cerium. It resonates at a frequency the Bizzies find utterly captivating.”
Humbolt looked sourly at Cameron. “That’s right. More to the point, they cannot control their need for this specific electromagnetic radiation. We have built the brain burners with such power that any Bizzie within a hundred-meter radius will also be affected.”
“But following an inverse square relationship. I should suspect,” cut in Cameron.
“I,…yes. We can be sure of burning out the brains of only those within a few metres. Usage of our device will turn them into vegetables in a week or less of addiction.”
“The more who come within the field of the resonating device, the more who will become addicted — and the more who will be destroyed. An elegant solution. Why was Web chosen to begin the Stellar Death Plan?”
“I don’t know. Fremont never told me, the old…” Humbolt’s voice trailed off and he looked around, suddenly suspicious. “We’re not being tapped, are we?”
“There are no spy devices within these walls.” Cameron smiled. “Except those of my own construction, that is.”
“Fremont’s got the finest engineers working on his spy devices,” said Humbolt.
“I have no doubt. I’ve done some work for him myself,” Humbolt did not seem to hear. “That old fart. Imagine him and Mella together in bed.”
Cameron raised one carefully plucked and formed eyebrow. The idea had never occurred to him. He waited for Humbolt to continue.
“The drugs he uses. They do things to his metabolism, speed it up, change him all around. He can’t relax unless he’s made love to her a half dozen times after an injection.”
“That many?” asked Cameron.
“He’s a maniac, but God, what a genius!”
“He devised the Stellar Death Plan?”
Humbolt shook his head. “Fremont is only one of the cabal. I don’t know who the others are, but they’re the most powerful men and women off-Earth.”
“It seems a shame that Earth governments are so…conservative,” Cameron said. “No one on the planet of our species’ birth has the nerve to fight for supremacy.”
“They all want to live peacefully with the Bizzies. Look at the schools. Look at the type of men they turn out.”
“Like Kinsolving,” goaded Cameron.
“Yes, like him. He’d betray his own kind. He wants us to continue being little more than slaves to the Bizzies. Humans have the right to rule, to be more than servants. So what if the aliens reached the stars first?”
“Yes, they should give us whatever we want.”
“They shouldn’t stand in our way. It’s mankind’s destiny to expand. If they stand in our way like they’re doing, they should know we’ll blast over them!”
Cameron wondered if Humbolt’s feelings of inferiority fuelled his devotion to the Plan. Cameron understood the drive for power, for supremacy. The dozens of alien races prevented humanity from gaining that power. But the need to rule was not in Humbolt. He shrugged off the director’s true motives. Humbolt would provide a convenient stepping stone and little more.
“We can neutralize Web within a year — if we can get enough of our brain burners onto the world,” said Hum-bolt. “There are other aspects of the Plan going on simultaneously. We can cripple all the Bizzies, no matter where they come from, within ten years. Then nothing will stop us. They won’t be able to deny us entry onto their worlds, won’t be able to stop us from exploiting mining planets or sending our ships wherever we want.”
“Arachnoid creatures, the natives of Zeta Orgo 4,” mused Cameron. “Unpleasant to look at. Why were they chosen for this experiment in death? You said other races also fall victim to the lure of the brain burners.”
“I don’t know, dammit.”
“I wasn’t asking you. I was thinking out loud,” said Cameron, already tiring of Humbolt. He had learned as much as he could from the director. He needed to work out as much of the Stellar Death Plan as possible to see how to personally benefit from it.
The Plan required the utmost in caution. A mistake meant racial suicide. Worse, a mistake at this level might mean his own death. Those ruthless enough to obliterate an entire race would not hesitate to kill a faltering individual.
“Would proof of Kinsolving’s demise be of any use?” he asked.
“What? Oh, yes, that’s what Fremont wants. It’s what he’s ordered us to produce.”
“Us?”
Humbolt tried to stare down Cameron and failed. He averted his eyes. Cameron’s contempt grew without bounds.
“If I provide it for you, what might I expect in return? It’s all well and good to further the Plan. What human wouldn’t want to remove such a stumbling block from humanity’s path? But there ought to be more.”
Humbolt ran his hands up and down his pants legs in a gesture Cameron found intimating. He held his tongue, waiting to see what Humbolt offered.
“Mella. I can offer you Fremont’s nurse.”
“In what capacity?” This puzzled Cameron. Women as lovely as the nurse attracted him, of course, but simply to bed Mella without other gain struck him as pointless — and dangerous.
“You can learn about the drugs she gives Fremont. And more. Remember what I said about Fremont’s cravings after the drug injections.”
Sex, marvelled Cameron. This was all Kenneth Hum-bolt offered him. Was this the full extent of what the man considered life had to offer? Cameron ran a finger along the intricately embroidered lapel of his jacket. A slight pressure would cause a relay to close. The activated robot would reduce Humbolt to a greasy, smoking spot on the rug in less than a microsecond. Cameron seriously considered the director’s permanent removal. He did not think anyone on the board would censure him for such an abrupt action.
He might even receive a promotion. Villalobos would back his election to the board. This dangerous woman still found him useful. Liu might, also. Even Hamilton Fremont might rejoice at having a weakling like Humbolt disposed of.
Cameron stayed his hand. Humbolt had not outlived his usefulness. Yet.
“I will go to Web and oversee the distribution of the devices,” he told the director. “Along the way, I’ll collect the evidence of Kinsolving’s death.”
“Good. You won’t regret siding with me in this, Cameron. You won’t. Remember Mella.”
“I will,” Cameron assured him.
Kenneth Humb
olt left, thinking he had forged a strong bond and gained an ally. Cameron could only bide his time and see how best to destroy the inept director and thus increase his own influence within Interstellar Materials.
He blinked in the proper direction. Gentle fragrances again drifted on a warm breeze. Cameron closed his eyes, savoured the exotic scents and plotted.
Very soon IM would have a new director on its board.
CHAPTER V
Barton Kinsolving left the engine room, the space-suit in acid-soaked ruins. The poisonous, corrosive gas formed during welding the small holes in the steel tubing had turned the once-flexible fabric brittle and had completely frosted over the faceplate. But Kinsolving smiled. The repair work was finished.
“What about the lights?” asked Lark Versalles.
“One step at a time,” he told her, irritated that she had not praised him for the work already done, the risks he had taken. He pushed past her and entered the cockpit.
Flopping onto the couch, he asked the ship’s computer, “Engine status.”
“Coolant levels four percent below nominal. No significant impairment of engine function.”
“Have you run a self-diagnostic on the lighting system?” he asked the ship’s computer.
“Circuit or circuits out in the galley. It is impossible to isolate the exact location of damage.”
“That’s good enough. Thanks.” He swung up and out of the couch and almost collided with Lark. The blonde stood, staring at him. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “The engines are in good shape. We’re not going to be stranded in hyperspace. And the lights will be working again in a few minutes.”
“Bart darling, I’m not used to this. I mean, all this danger. The people I orbit with are used to excitement, but it’s never really dangerous. Oh, we play like it is, but mostly it’s all pretend.” Her blue eyes misted over and the tears did spill. “I’m not like you. You know how to do everything.”
“Not everything,” he said. Awkwardly, he took her in his arms. “I just do what I have to do.”
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