by Frank Borsch
"An arm chip?"
"He knew that he would put me in danger. His sister Denetree would not be allowed to live. Venron's gift is a new life for me." She stared at the wafer-thin chip that rested on two of her fingertips. A new identity. Was it possible?
"May I?" Launt asked. She let him take the arm chip. He disappeared with it into an adjacent room and came back with a hand scanner. "Don't worry," he reassured her when she suddenly stiffened. "It isn't connected to the Net. The computer in this house has ... how should I say this ... has taken leave from the Ship's Net for a while."
Launt read the chip, whistling appreciatively as he read the data on the display. For the first time since he had come into the house, it seemed to Denetree that he was relaxed.
"Well, it was an honor for me to have had you as a guest, Danque," he said to Denetree. "But now it's time that you went on your way. The members of your new Metach'ton are anxiously waiting for the reinforcement they've requested! What are you waiting for, Danque?"
13
When the massive hatch slid to the side and opened the way for Solina Tormas to step into the control center of the Las-Toór, the historian had to force her feet to move forward.
It was the first time that she had been allowed to enter the innermost section of the research ship. The other Yidari had made it clear that a person as insignificant as she had no business there. Solina had made the best of the insult, telling herself that she didn't have any reason to go into the control center anyway. What was really there to see? The same people she saw in the mess and in the corridors, except that they would be busy acting important with their instruments.
But when Solina actually saw the control center, she frankly admitted that she had consoled herself with a white lie in order to maintain her otherwise shattered spirits.
The control center was overwhelming.
The historian in her had seldom seen a more meaningful example of the pronounced hierarchical thinking of Akonian society. The control center of the Las-Toór had a circular base, over which a domed ceiling arched. In the middle on a raised platform sat the maphan, the commander, Jere von Baloy. At an angle to his left was the place of the Keven, the pilot, and to his right was that of the Ma-Techten, the first officer. The platform was oversized, taking up nearly half the floor space. Around the command platform was a mid-level ring of work stations seating the most important members of the control center crew: the Therso, weapons control officer; the Davron, hyperdetection officer; the Espejel, comm officer; and the Heroth, chief engineer. All stations were circular, but the consoles—and thus the attention of those who worked at them—were directed toward the maphan. Finally, in a third, outer ring on the lowest level of the control center floor, were work stations available to be used by the ship's various Yidari. Solina could see that all but one were all occupied.
The child in Solina, the curious little girl who had made her what she was now, looked past the hierarchy that was literally cast in steel. The walls and dome of the control center were entirely covered by a holo.
It showed hyperspace.
At least Solina thought that was what she was looking at. There were no stars, none of the unrelenting blackness that for her defined space. Instead, she saw a rainbow of sluggishly intertwining colors. It was as though hyperdimensional space consisted of heavy, multi-colored sand that under the influence of an invisible force twisted, mixed, swirled—and somehow continuously escaped her. Each time Solina focused on a single point she lost her perception, and when she squinted to compensate for the effect the point vanished. She could have spent days hypnotized by the spell of hyperspace.
"Solina!" the maphan called from his platform. "Instead of standing there like you've never seen hyperspace before, why don't you report?"
"I ... uh ... was just about to."
"Very good."
The screens and instruments of the only empty work station in the lower ring woke to life, and the blue glow of the indicators mixed with the iridescence of hyperspace.
"There is your work station," Jere von Baloy pointed. "Please sit down."
Solina did as he told her, then looked at the maphan. Looked up at him, since the arrangement of the control center did not allow otherwise.
Jere von Baloy turned away and exchanged some words with the Keven, who accordingly adjusted the course vector. What could he want from her? Solina had difficulty judging him. Just the "von" in his name and the fact that he was the commander of the Las-Toór should have created an unbridgeable gulf between him and Solina. But somehow, it didn't. Since their departure from Drorah, the maphan had not worn his uniform even once.
Mostly he went around in dirty overalls that could have belonged to any neelak maintaining the smallest auxiliary craft.
The maphan wasn't particularly concerned about rank, even though he had spent his entire adult life working within a ranked system—and successfully, too, as his position showed.
According to everything she knew about him, Jere von Baloy was closer to her mental outlook than anyone else on board the Las-Toór. Or was that just wishful thinking? The maphan had yet to indicate by a single syllable or gesture that there was any special understanding between them.
"Take a look at this," Jere's voice said from her console. A holo took shape in front of her. It showed a pixilated, gray-toned flickering. By making an effort, Solina thought she could make out a cylinder-shaped form that seemed to appear for just a moment.
"What is that?" she asked. "And what should I do with it?"
"The hyperdetector picked up that image, but that's the best resolution it can give us," the commander explained to her. "It's the destination of our ultra-light jump. And I believe this object will be of interest to you."
"Why? What makes you think that?"
She didn't get an answer. Solina looked up. Jere von Baloy had turned away and was now speaking with the Therso, who with the ease of long practice was checking the readiness of the ship's weaponry. The maphan appeared disinclined to waste another moment of his valuable time on Solina.
So. A good historian was resourceful in any situation. Solina called up all the available data on the mysterious object. The numbers relating to its size were extremely vague; the only thing certain was that it was quite large. Such a large object in space was most likely a ship. Did Jere von Baloy hope that she would recognize the type? If so, that was either a very stupid or a very clever test, depending on what he intended by it. If he hoped that she would recognize the type, he was stupid. There were literally billions of spaceship types that had seen use in the galaxy over the preceding tens of thousands of years. The chance that Solina would recognize one that wasn't listed in the ship's memory was nearly zero. If he hoped to show her up with her failure, he was fiendishly cunning.
Whatever. Solina had no choice but to play along. The historian called up ship types from the Las-Toór's database and started with the most obvious comparison: the cylindrical ships used by the Springers in all eras. But Solina wouldn't have been Solina if she hadn't kept an ear open to what was going on in the control center. The dome-shaped room was filled with the oppressive silence of enormous tension.
"Entry into normal space in ninety seconds," the Keven announced.
No one commented on his report.
"Sixty seconds to go."
Another voice spoke up. "Hyperdetection! A second object has emerged from hyperspace in the vicinity of the destination point!"
Jere von Baloy swore. "Wonderful! Someone has gotten there ahead of us!"
"That's not all!" exclaimed the Davron. "Ten, correction, eleven other objects, considerably smaller, are grouped around the first object."
The commander took a deep breath. His gaze covered the control center, passed over Solina, who made a quick effort to look occupied by staring at the holo in front of her, and finally landed on Oe ta Acenusk, the Therso.
"Ready, Oe?"
The weapons control officer grinned wolfishly. "Have been for a while now."
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"Entry!" called the pilot.
The muffled roar of the ultra-light engines faded away, and the flickering of hyperspace suddenly gave way to the blackness of normal space.
"Hyperdetection?"
"It's Terran!"
An angry groan went through the control center. It would have to be Terrans!
"Signature resembles that of a heavy cruiser."
"But is it?"
Solina was not a military expert, but she knew they didn't have a chance against a warship.
"It appears not. The radiation scatter from its energy emissions is too small. Possibly built on a heavy cruiser frame. But the small escort ships could be fighters of some unknown type."
Solina knew that the Las-Toór had four fighters of its own on board. Four against eleven; that didn't sound good.
Jere von Baloy was about to turn away from the Davron. "But there's something else, Maphan. The Terran has its Paratron up and the gun turrets extended!"
The maphan hesitated for a brief moment. "Oe, shields up to battle load. Target acquired?"
"Already done. Attack?"
"What are our chances?"
"Fifty-fifty. But they won't get any better if we wait. If we launch the fighters now and—"
"We'll wait."
"But Maphan, the Terrans will claim that they found this thing first and it's theirs by right!"
"I said we'll wait. We don't even know yet if that thing, as you call it, is worth anything, and before we do I'm not prepared to sacrifice even a single life for it. Not even that of a Terran, understand? Put it on the main holo!"
The visual pickup of the object was now perfectly clear, but when Solina tried to call up data on her console, the hyperdetector seemed unable to register it as a scan.
Echkal cer Lethir spoke up, the Ma-Techten of the Las-Toór. He was small, stocky and a Terran-hater of the first water; in the officers' mess, he proclaimed at every suitable and even unsuitable opportunity that the Akonians should teach those Terran upstarts a lesson they'd never forget, with the help of the Arkonides if necessary. More than once Solina wondered what he was doing on a research ship. Lethir belonged on a warship—or perhaps on a psychiatric ward for aggression reduction treatment. Solina had overheard that Lethir had once served in the fleet. Given his attitude it was probably true, and his martial posturing was an attempt to compensate for the shame of failing to meet the requirements of the Akonian fleet.
"Let's call the fleet for help," the Ma-Techten urged. "I happen to know that a squadron is operating in the immediate vicinity of the Ochent Nebula. In an hour, this Terran pest will be a bad memory!"
Jere von Baloy didn't reply to the suggestion. He turned to the historian. "Solina, have you gotten any further?"
"Ship type comparison negative," Solina reported, finding herself infected by the clipped military-style speech pattern used in the control center.
"Is that all?" Jere von Baloy's disappointment was unmistakable.
"At the moment ... "
"That isn't enough. Use your brain, Solina!"
Solina would have taken anyone else to task for the public insult, but Jere von Baloy was the maphan. And the truth was that the comment sounded more like a plea for help than an insult.
For some reason she couldn't figure out, Jere von Baloy seemed to be pinning his hopes on her.
All right, she told herself. Use your brain!
"Maphan, as Therso of the Las-Toór, I must concur with the judgment of the Ma-Techten," Oe ta Acenusk said. "We are in contact with an artificial object of unknown origin. Its builders are potential allies—or enemies, if we leave the field to the Terrans!"
Solina feverishly reviewed the existing data on the object. Here—it was moving at near light-speed. She'd overlooked that before.
Why did Jere von Baloy call me? she asked herself. What can I do that others can't? The answer was obvious: She knew more about Lemurian history than anyone else on board. But by all the stinking glowfish of Shaghomin, how did that knowledge apply?
"It is our duty to secure this object for the Akonian Empire," Echkal cer Lethir urged the maphan. "It could contain advanced technology that we must not allow to fall into other hands!"
Lemurians, Lemurians, Lemurians ... that had to be the key. But Lemurian artifacts were being found practically every day somewhere in the galaxy. Assuming that this was an artifact, what made it so special?
Well, it was gigantic, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. It was located in a barren region of the galaxy known to be uninhabited by intelligent beings, friendly or otherwise. It was moving at nearly light-speed.
Why was it moving at light-speed?
Was it about to make the jump into hyperspace? Or were its ultra-light engines broken down? Or ... or perhaps it didn't have ultra-light engines at all?
"Maphan, what are we waiting for? Let's call the fleet!"
Aha! Solina used the syntron to make a quick calculation, then cried out, "Maphan!"
She practically screamed. All heads turned toward her, disapproval writ large on most of them. What did she, the superfluous historian, have to report in a situation like this?
"Yes, Solina?"
"I believe this object is Lemurian!"
"And how do you know that?" snapped the Ma-Techten.
"I traced its flight path to the point of origin. Assuming that this object hasn't changed its course and speed significantly, it started out fifty-five thousand Terran years ago—in what was then the Lemurian system!"
"A Lemurian generation ship? I've never heard of such a thing."
"Nor have I," Solina replied. "But the earliest period of Lemurian history has been researched only sketchily. The fact that we have no knowledge of Lemurian generation ships doesn't argue against one existing. If my calculations are confirmed, then this is a discovery of enormous importance."
Jere von Baloy said nothing. But she saw in his eyes a gleam of acknowledgment and recognition for the value of her work that Solina had never seen in anyone's eyes before now.
Echkal cer Lethir spoke up. "Very well. If it's a Lemurian generation ship, that's all the more reason for us to call the fleet. It's a matter of security for the Akonian Empire!"
"You are mistaken, Echkal," the maphan declared. "This is not a matter of security but of research. If this ship really has been under way at sub-light speed for more than fifty thousand years, no technology it carries on board would interest us. But it would be a huge research bonanza for all the scientists on the Las-Toór. From the historian"—he smiled in Solina's direction—"to the metallurgists to the planetary ecologists. I see no reason to call the fleet. The Lemurian ship is no threat, and even the Terran ship has shown no aggression as yet."
"And what about the activated Paratron and its fire-ready status?"
"The Terrans are just being cautious. They can't know what might be hiding behind the object on their hyperdetectors."
"That means we won't chase them off?" Sounding disappointed, Oe ta Acenusk withdrew his finger from the sensor fields of the automatic gun control, over which it had been hovering since their entry into normal space.
"We'll see. Launch the fighters to patrol the immediate area. Perhaps our Terran friends are timid and will withdraw."
"And if not?"
"Let's wait. Perhaps they are in a mood to talk instead."
* * *
"They're launching fighters!" Sharita Coho exclaimed. "Harriett, can you blow them away?"
The weapons control officer thought before answering. The circular holo of the offensive and defensive systems had formed around her like a barricade. "The fighters, yes," she said at length. "But the Akonian mother ship? I doubt it."
"Why not? It isn't a battle cruiser."
"That's correct. Judging by the energy signature, it's probably an Explorer. But that isn't the point. We aren't a battle cruiser either. Our systems are designed for defense—and right now, that's a good thing."
Right you are! t
hought Alemaheyu Kossa, who had been observing events from the comm console with increasing concern. What had gotten into Sharita? The control crew was familiar with her outbursts against the Akonians, and quite rightly refused to take them seriously. It was like the ancient Terrans expressing their opinion about the weather. The meteorologists always got the weather wrong, but no one thought to punish them with transform cannons and heavy disintegrators.
"Thank you for the reminder, Harriet," Sharita snapped. "As it happens, I am thinking about defense. If what those fighters are doing just now isn't an attack, then—"
"—it's a transparent attempt to scare us off."
Sharita gave up. If Harriett didn't want to fire a weapon then she wouldn't, and even the commander had to accept it.
"Very well, then we won't attack. But I won't allow them to get hold of that Lemurian thing out there. We were here first, so it's ours."
"Should I contact them?" Alemaheyu asked. "Then you can tell them that to their faces."
And you'd forget about the idea of turning them into a particle cloud! the comm officer added to himself. People generally found violent acts more difficult once they had looked their opponent in the eye.
"Good idea, Alemaheyu. And what do we do when they claim they picked up the thing on their hyperdetectors first?"
"Then ... there's the Law of Space Travel, which the Akonians are bound to as well!"
"Law of Space Travel! Right, we'll drag them in front of a galactic court. The lawyers will put a big 'Keep Out' tape around the thing until all the arguments have been presented, and if we're lucky, our grandchildren will be able to set foot on board. Or those of the Akonians. If the thing hasn't run into a star in the meantime!" Sharita slammed her fist onto her console. "No, I won't let it happen! This thing belongs to us! Rhodan was right. We had the courage to take a risk, and the reward is right in front of us!"
Now Alemaheyu understood which way the wind was blowing. With the discovery of the gigantic Lemurian spacecraft to her credit, the commander saw her chance to finally get her own ship. The comm officer's eyes were drawn back to the flattened sphere of the Akonian ship that hung over them in the main holo. Suddenly he felt sorry for the Akonians. They had no idea with whom they were dealing. Once Sharita set her mind on something, only people tired of life got in her way.
