Brik didn’t comment. Tor made a face. Leen looked sour.
“Can’t blame it,” grinned Hodel. “I’ve sometimes thought the same thing myself.”
Korie ignored the jibe. “Dr. Williger is analyzing the material. Let’s find out what it’s eating. Maybe we can slip something into its food or water . . .?”
“And maybe it’ll slip something into ours,” said Brik. “Don’t give it ideas. So far, it’s been playing fair. If you start playing dirty. . . .”
“Point well taken.” After a moment, he asked, “Playing fair?”
Brik nodded. “There are rules for combat.”
Korie’s eyebrows went up. “Morthan rules?”
“Yes. Morthan rules.”
“Oh really? What’s the first rule of Morthan combat?”
“‘Win,’” said Brik.
“Yes, of course. Silly me. And what’s rule number two?”
“‘See Rule Number One.’”
“Right. Why am I not surprised?” Korie shook his head in amused disbelief. “All right, at least we’re making progress. We’ve seized some initiative in the situation. How many problems do we have to give it before it overloads and makes a mistake? That’s the real question.” Korie looked to Brik, to Leen. Both looked back at him blankly. “Don’t worry,” he added. “It was only a rhetorical question. We’ll get the answer empirically.” He shook his head in quiet exasperation, a reaction to the size of the task that still lay ahead.
HARLIE interrupted then. “Mr. Korie?”
“Yes, HARLIE?”
“We have received a signal.”
“Yes?”
“We must return to Stardock immediately. For decontamination.”
“They can’t be serious!” Korie said.
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s the message.”
Brik snorted. His opinion was written on his face.
Leen scowled angrily. He turned away, leaned on a console for a moment, and muttered something as nasty as it was unintelligible. The workstation’s displays flickered in horror and then went out. He turned around abruptly. “It’s a hoax. The imp is doing it.”
Korie shook his head. “HARLIEs don’t lie. They can’t.” To HARLIE, he said, “What’s your confidence rating?”
“Eighty-three and holding,” HARLIE replied.
Korie looked blandly to Leen, as if to say, “You see?”
Leen shook his head grimly. “We can’t do it. We don’t dare.”
“He’s right,” said Brik.
“I know it. HARLIE, send this signal.” Korie selected his words carefully. “We can’t do it. We have a . . . a security problem.”
“They are aware of the problem, sir.” HARLIE phrased his answer just as precisely. “There may be a solution.”
“They know we have an imp?”
“The message is quite clear.”
“I’ll look at it in my cabin.”
“Yes, sir.”
Korie and Leen and Brik exchanged worried glances. Tor and Hodel, too.
“I believe,” said Brik coldly, “that the issue is being forced.”
“What are you going to do?” demanded Leen.
“I can’t disobey the admiral, can I?” said Korie. He hoped he’d said it convincingly. There were still no insignia on his collar.
“But you can’t risk letting that thing get to Stardock!” Tor insisted. “You can’t do this. You simply can’t!”
“What do you want me to do?” Korie snapped back angrily. “Exorcise it? Hodel—how much to exorcise a Morthan demon?”
“Uh—sorry, boss. I’m out of the exorcism business. For good. I saw what happened last time.”
Korie turned back to Tor. “Do you have a better idea? If so, I want to hear it!”
Tor blanched at his anger. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I just—I’m sorry.”
“I know what’s at stake, goddammit.” And then he added, in a quieter tone, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Tor. We’re all under a lot of pressure here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said sullenly.
Korie turned to Brik. “Let’s put the entire crew on red drill. Four hours on, four hours off. Everybody who isn’t in an essential job is on a search team. Everybody puts out traps everywhere. See to it, Brik. You too, Chief. Tor?”
“Yes, Mr. Korie?”
“Set a course. Your very best course. A. Very. Careful. Slow. Course. Take all the time you need setting it up. Check you work carefully. Do you understand? And don’t initiate anything until I see it.”
“I understand.” She nodded her assent.
Korie ran both hands through his hair, a sign of exhaustion. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He looked around at the others. “Well, we’re in for it now.”
Dwarf Point
Korie entered the Bridge of the Star Wolf. He was still wearing his starsuit; his collapsible helmet was hanging from his utility belt, but he was carrying a metal helmet as well. He hung the helmet on the captain’s chair and stepped to the forward railing. He put his hands on the railing and then put his weight on his hands. He studied the forward screen without seeing it. It showed stars. Nothing else.
After a moment, Korie straightened. Whatever thoughts had passed through his mind, they weren’t apparent on his face. “Commander Tor?” he asked. “What’s our position?”
“Holding at Dwarf Point One.” Tor was wearing a starsuit too.
“Thank you.” Korie spoke to the air, “Chief?”
The chief was in the engine room. His voice was approximately one meter to Korie’s right. “CINTI,” he said. “It’s all CINTI.”
Korie smiled. CINTI was an acronym. Cleanliness Is Next To Impossible.
“Thank you,” said Korie, allowing himself the slightest smile. It didn’t matter anymore. Either they had succeeded. Or they had not. They would find out soon enough. He glanced down to the Ops deck. “Quilla Delta? Are you ready?”
A starsuited figure turned around. “Yes, Mr. Korie. We are.”
“Then please come up here to the Bridge.”
Quilla Delta came up the steps to the Bridge and took a position to the rear of Korie and Brik. She waited expectantly.
“All right,” Korie said, his voice becoming somehow larger. “Now hear this.” HARLIE would relay his words to every crewmember aboard the ship: “This is an order. We are about to initiate our final docking maneuver. All hands who are not yet wearing starsuits must put on starsuits immediately. There will be no exceptions.” He glanced meaningfully across the Bridge to Brik, who stared dispassionately back. Brik’s starsuit was stretched across his massive frame.
Both Korie and Brik picked up their helmets at the same time. Still watching each other, both individuals pulled their helmets down over their heads. They locked them into place. Korie turned around so Brik could check his seals. Brik did likewise. When he finished, Korie turned and surveyed the Bridge. Hodel, Jonesy, Tor, Goldberg—all were suited.
“Chief?” Korie asked.
“Just a moment. Waiting for Gatineau and Stolchak . . . got it. It’s green. The entire crew is ready for vacuum.”
“Thank you, Mr. Leen. How long did it take?”
“About fifteen seconds.”
Korie allowed himself another smile. Yes, it can be done in fifteen seconds, if you make starsuits the uniform of the day. “HARLIE.”
“Yes, Mr. Korie?”
“I apologize in advance for any discomfort we are about to cause you.”
“No apologies are necessary, Mr. Korie. I understand the need.”
“I appreciate that.” Korie nodded to Brik. Brik looked grim. He stepped down from the Bridge to the Ops deck, from there, he ducked under the Bridge to the Ops bay, and from there—
“He’s really going to do it?” asked Tor.
Korie nodded.
They waited silently. The screen continued to show stars.
After a moment, Brik returned. “It’s done,” he said.
“HARLIE?” K
orie asked.
There was no answer. The silence was eerie.
Korie reached into his starsuit equipment pocket and pulled out a set of memory clips. He handed them to Tor. “Here are the programs you’ll need for docking . . . and any other eventuality. HARLIE has been disconnected. Completely. You have total control of the vessel from your console. The Bridge has had six consecutive detox operations without turning up any bugs. This Bridge has never been unmanned. Your workstation is the most secure place on the ship.”
“Thank you,” said Tor, taking the clips. She handed them to Jonesy who laid them out carefully across the rack on the top of the display. He sorted them by color.
“Now hear this,” Korie spoke to the crew again. “I know it’s been a difficult time. I know it’s hard living and working in a starsuit round the clock. I know it’s hard sleeping in a starsuit. I’ve been just as uncomfortable as all of you. I appreciate how well you’ve kept your spirits up. I’m very proud of you. We’ve made it to the final lap. This is the hardest part, so please don’t let your guard down.
“We are now in our final approach for docking. We have secured every part of the vessel. We have set out more than seven hundred separate traps. HARLIE has won more than four hundred chess games—four hundred and two, to be exact. We have been holding at condition yellow for three hours. The imp has not been seen by any camera for six and a half hours. I must tell you that of the three thousand camera buttons we set out, only four hundred and twelve remain operational and those are in noncritical locations. The imp is still somewhere on board and it is still active and it is still taking down cameras. We must assume that it could be anywhere by now. We must assume that it has a plan that it will implement immediately upon docking.
“Each of you has been given sealed handwritten orders. You are authorized to open your orders now and read them. You will immediately carry out your orders.” Korie hesitated, then... despite his own feelings . . . he added, “May God be with us all.”
He sat down in his chair and fastened his safety harness. He waited while Tor and Jonesy opened their orders. They, too, sat down and secured themselves in place. Korie glanced over to Brik, questioningly. Brik scowled, then he, too, secured himself.
First, the lights went out. Then the consoles went out.
Even the screens went dead.
The forward screen simply disappeared.
They hung for a moment in darkness and silence.
The first light came from the direction of Tor’s console. She had switched on her suitlight. She continued reading her sealed orders. Others around the Bridge began illuminating themselves too. Several finished their orders, pocketed them, and switched their lights off again.
Korie switched on his suit radio. “Section heads. Report?”
“Leen. Yellow.”
“Tor. Blue.”
“Hodel. Purple.”
“Stolchak. Orange.”
“Hall. Black.”
“Brik. Brown.”
“Williger. Magenta.”
“Goldberg. White.”
“Green. Green.”
Korie grinned at that last. Communications officer, Darian Green.
“All right,” said Korie. “Code Sleepy. Repeat. Code Sleepy. Go.” He waited. He looked to Brik. “This had better work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Well, then my successor will have to worry about it.”
“If it doesn’t work, you’re not going to have a successor.”
“There is that, yes.” Korie switched on his helmet lamp and pulled a thick envelope out of his equipment bag. He opened the envelope and took out the first page. He held it up before his faceplate so he could read it as he listened.
Chief Leen came back online first. “Gully Foyle is my name . . .”
Korie checked the list of code phrases in front of him. The engine room is offline. We’re powered down and under manual control. All autonomic nervous functions are disconnected.
Stolchak checked in next: “Call me Ishmael.”
Again Korie referred to his list. The farms are secured.
Hall: “It was the best of times, the worst of times.” The cargo bays are secured.
Williger: “Once upon a time, there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith.” Med bay.
Goldberg: “Sredni Vashtar went forth. His thoughts were red thoughts, and his teeth were white.” All weapon systems controlled through the ship’s autonomic nervous system have been physically disconnected. Certain independent manually operated weapon systems remain operable only to those who have the appropriate key.
Hodel: “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” All traps are armed.
Green: “I have no mouth and I must scream.” All communications systems have been physically disconnected. Except the portable unit that Lieutenant Green wore strapped to his chest.
Tor: “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister.” All navigation systems have been taken offline.
Korie looked to Brik questioningly.
“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe . . .” Internal security systems have been disconnected. They cannot be used against us.
It was a one-time code, never to be used again. If the imp was listening in, it would have no way of knowing what was really being said.
“The imp has got to be getting a little anxious about now, don’t you think?”
“Morthans don’t get anxious,” said Brik. “I doubt that the imp has been programmed for that particular emotional reaction.”
“Right,” said Korie. “Thanks for reminding me.” He wondered what the imp used instead of anxiety. “Now hear this,” he said. “Code Sneezy. Code Sneezy.”
He couldn’t feel what was happening, but he could imagine it. All over the ship, crew members were manually dogging every hatch, then locking each one shut with a security clamp. Every self-contained module aboard the ship was now isolated from every other self-contained module. Once again, he waited for crewmembers to report in.
Again, Leen was first. Korie studied the paper in front of him, waiting for the appropriate code phrases.
“There was an old man from Nantucket, who kept all his cash in a bucket . . .”
“There was a young lady of Riga, who smiled as she rode on a tiger . . .”
“There was a young plumber of Leigh, was plumbing a maid by the sea . . .”
“There was a young man of Bengal, who went to a masquerade ball . . .”
“A marvelous bird is the pelican, whose beak can hold more than his belican . . .”
“There was a young man from Belgrave, who kept a dead whore in a cave . . .”
“There was a young lady named Bright, whose speed was much faster than light . . .”
The recital went on for several moments. Korie checked off each code phrase. When he finished, he looked to Brik.
Brik looked very unhappy. “A lesbian who lived in Khartoum, invited a queer to her room . . .”
Korie gave Brik a nod of acknowledgment. Brik curled his upper lip just enough to reveal his incisors.
“Now hear this. Code Bashful. Code Bashful.”
This time the wait was longer. Korie looked to his right. Brik had opened a floor panel and was manually operating a set of valves and handles. Korie felt his starsuit slowly hardening around him . . .
Once more, the signals came in:
“Pawn to Queen Two.”
“Knight to King’s Bishop Three.”
“Wizard to Rook Four.”
“Hobbit to Volcano Six.”
“Troll to Queen’s Knight Three-Sub-Three.”
“Dragon to Dragon Four Probability Fifty-Five and King’s Bishop Two Probability Forty-Five.”
Korie looked to Brik.
Brik said, “Colonel Mustard to the Conservatory with the Candlestick.”
The ship is now open to space. Unless the imp has a starsuit, it’s i
mmobile. From this moment on, we’re dealing only with preinstalled booby traps. I hope.
Korie looked to Brik. “Reassure me again. Can the imp breathe vacuum?”
“I believe it can endure prolonged periods of vacuum. I do not believe it can function in it.”
Korie nodded.
“Now hear this. Code Grumpy. Code Grumpy.”
“Grandpa Blue Jacket.”
“Betty Pancake.”
“Sweet Wilma Bumble.”
“Martha Moose.”
“Christmas Billy.”
“Doorway Denny.”
Korie looked to Brik.
Brik sighed inaudibly and said, “Bertha Six-Pack.”
Korie grinned. He didn’t even bother to refer to his code sheet. These codes were decoys. Phonies. They meant nothing at all. Throughout the ship, crew members were doing meaningless activities; opening and closing compartments, taking things out, rearranging them, putting them away in new compartments. There was absolutely no strategic value at all to any of the exercises. If the imp was listening and monitoring, it would have to be going crazy trying to figure out what was happening.
At least that was the theory.
Korie waited a moment, and said, “Code Happy. Code Happy.”
Korie removed the transceiver module from his starsuit harness and handed it to Brik. The big Morthan moved quickly around the Ops deck collecting transceiver modules from the entire crew. He put them into a shielded lockbox, closed it, armed it, and pressed a red panel on its lid. The transceivers inside would shortly be junk.
Korie took a communication cable out of his equipment case and plugged one end of it into the communication jack of his starsuit; the other end, he handed to Quilla Delta who plugged it into her starsuit. She accepted a similar plug from Brik and plugged that in too. As Korie watched, the rest of the crew on the Ops deck were similarly creating themselves as a local area network. All over the ship, the process would be repeated, with each cluster of crew members cabled directly or indirectly to one of the Quillas. The Quillas linked all the separate networks.
The Middle of Nowhere Page 25
