A sudden spectacular explosion rocked the aft of one of the cruisers. “My God,” said Naquist, “that woman has just knocked the hell out of one ship’s engines!”
“Wonderful,” said Northern grimly. “What’s the time?”
“Three seconds to go.”
“Let’s get out of here!”
Naquist’s hands obediently pulled the correct levers. Jump-stasis engine kicked in, and the shuttle rattled insanely as it was ripped from normal space and flung to where its mother ship waited.
Chapter Seventeen
“CAPTAIN Northern,” said Dansen Jitt, helping his commander out of the smoking shuttle, “you look terrible.”
Tars Northern’s hair was singed and tousled, his face gritty. He coughed and squinted at the navigator. “Who’s at the helm?”
“Arkm.”
“Tell him to get us into Underspace. Now. There are a couple of battleships on our tail—the kind that eat moons for breakfast.”
“But the stress on the ship—”
“The Starbow is going to have to take that stress,” said Northern, “or take about a suns worth of energy blast from Feddy ships.”
Fear clear in his expression, Navigator Jitt raced to the communicator.
Northern turned to watch the robots cooling the shuttle with CO2, from fire extinguishers. Wiping soot off her face, Gemma Naquist emerged from the hatchway and stepped down the ramp.
“She’s not going to blow,” she announced. “Next time we go out for a jaunt in a shuttle, though, let’s check the wiring, okay? That beam from the Federation cruiser just grazed us, and you would have thought we’d gotten hit by a comet!” She looked around. “Laura get in all right?”
“Right on our tail,” said Northern.
“Which she covered real well,” said Naquist, shaking her head. “Tars, she put that cruiser right out of commission. That thing was a thousand kilotons if it was an ounce. What kind of ship is that?”
“A blip-ship,” said Northern, looking back to where the XT sat in its impromptu berth. “Catchy name, eh? Rather rolls off the tongue.”
“Well, whatever it is, I want to thank the pilot!” said Naquist, walking forward to the sleek vessel.
“Our rescue was not exactly performed out of the kindness of the dear lady’s heart,” Northern reminded her.
Naquist turned around and smiled. “But it does dovetail very nicely with certain intentions … ”
Northern raised a thick eyebrow. “Yes. I think if we get out of this system alive, all will turn out to everyone’s benefit.”
The hatch to the blip-ship opened. Laura Shemzak leaned out, riddled with wires.
“Hair curled yet?” Captain Northern asked pleasantly. Laura grinned.
One by one, she took the wires out of their jacks and refastened the skin flaps. She then tied her red scarf around her neck. Northern and Naquist were watching this exhibition when the jolt signaling entry into Underspace hit them.
“Faster than I expected,” the captain said. “Arkm’s a good pilot.”
“You might have told me,” complained Naquist. “I like to strap in for stuff like that.”
“Just one more bump on the roller coaster,” said Laura, climbing down to the floor. “Can I have a cup of water?”
Naquist looked puzzled for a moment, then went to get one.
“So. Why did you rescue us, Laura?” Northern asked. “You were free and clear. Now you’re going to have to answer to the Federation for helping a couple of criminals escape, for stealing a blip-ship, and for doing a great deal of damage to Federation merchandise.”
Laura smoothed her jump suit, not answering. Gemma returned with the water.
Laura accepted it with quiet thanks, then tossed the water in Tars Northern’s face.
“Maybe that’s why,” she said, stalking away, planning on taking a nap.
Behind her, Captain Tars Northern, dripping, smiled, because he knew it wasn’t.
Not the whole reason, anyway.
Selected members of the Starbow crew sat in the meeting room, listening as Laura finished up her briefing. A holographic star chart occupied one wall. Laura utilized a light-plotter to illustrate her presentation.
“And so computer analysis indicates that the most likely destination for the Jaxdron ships is the occupied world Baleful.” She drew a purple line around the dot representing the planet in the Coridian system. “Marchgild sector, my friends. Not terribly far. Won’t take a great deal of time from your busy schedule of raping and pillaging.”
That comment, Laura could see, went over like a lead balloon. Blank expressions faced her as the crew considered.
“The Jaxdrons are an unknown quantity,” said Dansen Jitt. “Frankly, I don’t like this at all.”
“No one is asking you,” said Captain Northern. Laura was pleased to see that he was in a deadly serious mood. He had followed all of her lecture with rapt attention. “Didn’t I make myself plain? The pilot has my pledge. This is not a voting situation, Navigator.”
“Well, excuse me for living!” Dansen Jitt said, folding his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to point out that no human vessel has ever entered Jaxdron space and returned!”
“Let’s be the very first on our block, okay?” Naquist said. “Go on, Laura. Excuse our token wimp.”
Laura nodded. She and Gemma had grown closer since the incident on Shortchild. Laura had the feeling that Naquist not only felt gratitude, but actually liked the blip-ship pilot.
“That’s about all I can say right now. I’ve not studied the data placed in my ship’s computer. I thought I’d share that openly with you all, since we’re working on this mission together now”—she glanced at Northern—“now that I’m no longer persona non grata.”
“That is quite true,” said Captain Northern, folding his hands together. “Temporarily, you may consider yourself a member of the crew.”
“I’m truly overwhelmed, Captain,” Laura said sarcastically.
“And as a crewmember, there are some things you should be made cognizant of,” Northern continued, brushing back his recently clipped hair. “Aspects of our history, reasons for the consensus reality that we have tried to create among ourselves.”
“Well, if you’re going to tell me wonderful secrets, Captain, could you use something close to neo-English?” Laura said, hands on hips.
Dr. Mish put down his sensor board. “You forget, my friend, they do not teach philosophy to the Federation untermensch.”
Laura glanced quizzically at the doctor. These guys were all loony.
“Ah!” Northern said. “All action and adventure for our new crewmember.” He took a flask from his jacket pocket, opened it, and saluted Laura. “Adventure and hairbreadth escapes.” He took a drink.
“Tars,” Dr. Mish said in a soft voice.
Northern grinned at the doctor like a little boy caught with his hand in a cookie jar, then stepped over and handed the flask to the man.
“Now then,” he said, “to come clean with our guest.” He cleared his throat. “It is entirely within our interest to locate your brother as well. I’m not saying that we would have given it a shot without your arrival,” Northern continued. “But with all your valuable data on the subject, and our reckless natures—”
“I don’t understand at all,” Laura said. “Something smells fishy here.”
“Perhaps it’s Shontill, standing right behind you!”
He laughed as Laura jumped.
The alien stood in the doorway, its bulky humanoid form outlined by a hallway light.
“Shontill, don’t be shy!” Northern called. “Come on in and join our meeting!”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Laura demanded, backing away. “Keep that thing away from me, Northern!”
Shontill stepped through the holograph, the stars glitter
ing on his bulk. He looked at Laura with an unreadable expression on his face, then went to the table, where he sat by Silver Zenyo.
“For once I can agree with you, Shemzak,” Silver said, getting up, nose wrinkled with disgust. She sat down at the other end of the table, smoothing back her new hairstyle.
“I think that our alien guest should be accorded more respect,” Northern said, somber again. “He is, after all, important to us all, though in different ways.”
“That’s news to me!” Laura said.
Northern stood beside Shontill and placed a hand on his shoulder. The alien wore a dark brown robe over his light green body. His skin seemed softer now, his large eyes somehow kinder. Laura noticed a fine coat of dark fur covering his cranium and running down his neck, like a brown crest. The deep green intelligent eyes, unreadable, were focused now on Captain Northern.
“Attilium,” said Northern. “Tell us about attilium, Shontill.”
The skin flaps over Shontill’s nostrils quivered. He opened his mouth and disgorged a barely decipherable rumble. “You promised … to bring Dr. Mish … and myself … attilium. Attilium was on that last planet.”
“As you can see, Laura, Shontill is a bit fixated on the stuff.” Northern patted the alien’s broad shoulder. “Yes, that’s quite true, Shontill. But we had some misfortune, my friend. We didn’t get any, and escaped by the skin of our teeth.”
“Human teeth … have skin?” Shontill said. “A clear mark … of genetic … inferiority.”
“Just a saying, Shontill. Now, Laura here would like to know about attilium.”
“Attilium … is key … to my race!” Shontill announced fervently, his eyes ablaze. “Attilium … is my … one hope!”
“Dr. Mish, apparently Shontill can’t remain dispassionate on the subject long enough to deliver a simple lecture. Would you do the honors?”
“Certainly.” The white-haired doctor pondered his wording for a moment, then turned his fine-boned features to Laura. “Attilium is a transuranic, that is, a rare and very heavy metal that contains quite a few more active … very active … electrons than uranium. And quite a few more fascinating other subatomic particles. As a blip-ship pilot, Laura, I suspect you realize that Underspace was discovered mathematically long before its use was achieved.”
Laura nodded.
“Well, there are other forms of mathematics—new forms—that reveal other things about the nature of holistic reality.”
“There is more in heaven and earth than is dreamed of in your mathematics, Horatio,” Northern commented blithely.
Dr. Mish ignored him. “Just as Underspace might be termed a different dimension from the ones we inhabit normally, so, it is speculated, there may well be other dimensions. The special properties of attilium are such that part of the element, apparently, exists in a special different dimension. It is so special that everyone—the Federation, the Jaxdrons, and yours truly included—would love to discover its secrets. This, we believe, was what your brother Cal was working on. This is why the Jaxdrons kidnapped him.”
“So why is this new dimension so terrific?” Laura asked.
“Very simple. Theoretically, if it can be pierced and navigated, it will be a faster avenue of interstellar travel than the dimension we call Underspace.”
Laura nodded. “I see. In other words, whoever gets it first will have the upper hand—in trade, in war … in everything!”
“Exactly.”
“So why does Shontill get so hot and heavy on the subject?”
Shontill turned to her. “The Jaxdron … destroyed my planet … my race. The few survivors … escaped to this dimension. I seek them … I seek my race. I am … the last here. I am … lonely.”
Northern, face grave, turned to Laura. “We found Shontill, stranded in the wreckage of his starship, near the fringes of the Horsehead Nebula, out on the rim of known space. He was in suspended animation, and had been for perhaps two centuries our time.”
“Then there are other intelligent races with stardrives in this galaxy,” Laura said unemotionally but with interest.
“It’s a very large galaxy, my dear,” Dr. Mish replied casually. “But the Frin’ral, Shontill’s people, knew of no other—pardon the expression—stardriven race until they encountered the Jaxdron.”
“Generally a malevolent bunch,” Northern noted drolly. “As you might infer from the evidence presented, to get on with the exposition, we would all like to gain access to this dimension—Omega space, Dr. Mish has dubbed it—for our own particular reasons.”
“I understand the Federation reasons and I can certainly understand why the Jaxdron wanted my brother now. Shontill’s story makes sense. But what’s in it for you, Northern, hmmm? What’s in it for you and the Starbow and its crew? Discover the secret, then sell it to the highest bidder?”
Northern smiled mysteriously. “Perhaps, Laura. But then, this goes beyond what you need to know. Suffice it to say that our commitment links handily to yours. Serendipity in action, eh?”
“Yeah, thrilled, I’m sure.”
Northern said, “Mr. Jitt, will you please make the necessary adjustments to plot the course to Baleful.”
“Reluctantly, sir.”
“Naturally. And how long do you estimate that this little jaunt will take at maximum speed?”
“Maximum, Captain?” Engineer First Class Elmond said. “Is that necessary?”
“We have promises to keep, Engineer,” Northern said. “And parsecs to go before we sleep. Jitt?”
“Approximately six days, sir. But may I say—”
“No, Navigator,” he said. “Ours is not to reason why.”
Laura walked up to Shontill. “Well, as long as we’re going to be crewmates, we might as well bury the hatchet. I’m sorry I barged in on your nap the other day.” She held a hand out to shake.
Shontill looked at it with what could only be described as a blank expression. Suddenly he took the hand and popped it into his mouth. Laura withdrew it, looking with horror at the yellowish slime that now coated her hand.
“What the hell was that supposed to be?” she cried. “A tasting?”
“Is this not … a form of … greeting among … your race?” Shontill said.
“No, you idiot. You shake hands, or paws, or tentacles or whatever it is you’ve got!”
“A definitely … intriguing tingle … on the sensory nodes,” Shontill said, as Laura found a napkin to wipe her hand.
Northern raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it would be wise to get accustomed to that taste, Shontill.” He looked over to Laura. “Well, my dear lady, I must say that I am most intrigued at the notion of examining your blip-ship’s interior.”
“Tell you what, Northern,” Laura said, still eyeing Shontill suspiciously. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“Within prescribed limits on both our parts, Laura Shemzak,” said Northern. “And by all means let’s beware of intriguing tingles!”
Chapter Eighteen
Games, games, games, thought Cal Shemzak. What do they think I am, a chimpanzee?
He flung away the latest intricately layered, multicolored puzzle. Its hard and soft plastic pieces clattered and bounced against the wall.
“So give me a banana, then!” he cried hoarsely, tears starting from his eyes. He slumped against a wall, hands over his unshaven face. “Give me something other than that goddamned slop you’ve been rewarding me with!”
Bleary eyes looked out hopefully from between his fingers. God, he felt grubby. Grubby and rotten. “And how about a nice bath, too!” he murmured.
The last bowl of slop had not agreed with him. Perhaps that was why he had done so poorly on his last puzzle-test, precipitating his tantrum.
Cal Shemzak had no idea how many days or nights he’d been on the Jaxdron ship. Without any kind of chron
ometer, time was meaningless, a mere concept, measurable only in the length of his beard or his fingernails.
They had taken him out of the maze a while back and placed him in a domed chamber with featureless walls, which would occasionally flash with odd conglomerations of color. From time to time a puzzle or a game of some sort would emerge from a hole in the wall. Cal’s duty was clear: he had to solve the puzzle or figure out and play the game. Then he would place it back in the hole, a sliding door would close, and when it opened again, a certain portion of nutrient slop would lie in its place as a reward for his industry.
It rather reminded him of education in Lifeschool back home, all very meticulous and calculated toward some inscrutable end. Learn this, absorb that, become the machine our tests show you can be! Show how superior you are to your fellow students, achieve, serve the Collective Good! Learn to connive and manipulate for the scraps of power we throw you to feed the very hunger we have created in you! Cal Shemzak had always considered himself smarter than his teachers. After all, hadn’t he had the brilliance and daring to use his computer to break into all kinds of fascinating things? Hadn’t he flaunted his rebelliousness under their noses time after time, sneaking out of Bunker, exploring the dusty archives of yesteryear below City? Hadn’t he shown his contempt for the System by creating a relationship, with Laura, that was contrary to the line he had to toe?
A brief flicker of pride, self-satisfaction, of genuine love for Laura, gave way to a looming question.
If he’d been such a rebel, such a danger, why had they allowed it? Surely, with their machines, they knew something of Cal Shemzak’s antics. Yet though he and Laura insisted upon sharing a last name as a token of their sibling state, Authority did nothing to prevent the two from seeing each other.
The question gave way to a revelation: Because they didn’t really care. If Cal’s rebellion had been a real threat, they would have slammed down their fist so fast … and then just scooped his reformed gray matter back into his skull the way they wanted it. That’s why the System worked so well, had lasted so long; while monitoring everything, channeling its components toward its own ends, it allowed people a little slack. That was enough to create an illusion of independence, of individuality, to satisfy the craving for freedom. The Authority capitalized on both the good and the bad in human beings for its own mindless, mechanical purposes.
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