"She's rigging up some sensors that she can shove through the interface. That grey sheet isn't a physical barrier. She's already pushed a length of conduit tubing through. It's some kind of pressure membrane, apparently, stops the ship's atmosphere from flooding into the wormhole."
"Another billion fuseodollar gadget. Jesus, this is getting too big for us, we're going to have to prioritize." He datavised the flight computer, and issued a general order for everyone to assemble in capsule A's main lounge.
Karl was the last to arrive. The young systems engineer looked exhausted. He frowned when he caught sight of Marcus.
"I thought you were over in the xenoc ship."
"No."
"But you .. ." He rubbed his fingers against his temples. "Skip it."
"Any progress?" Marcus asked.
"A little. From what I can make out, the molecular synthesizer and its governing circuitry are combined within the same crystal lattice. To give you a biological analogy, it's as though a muscle is also a brain."
"Don't follow that one through too far," Roman called.
Karl didn't even smile. He took a chocolate sac from the dispenser, and sucked on the nipple.
"Katherine?" Marcus said.
"I've managed to place a visual-spectrum sensor in the wormhole. There's not much light in there, only what soaks through the pressure membrane. From what we can see it's a straight tunnel. I assume the xenocs cut off the artificial gravity under the portal so they could egress it easily. What I'd like to do next is dismount a laser radar from the MSV and use that."
"If the wormhole's threaded with exotic matter, will you get a return from it?"
"Probably not. But we should get a return from whatever is at the other end."
"What's the point?"
Three of them began to talk at once, Katherine loudest of all. Marcus held his hand up for silence. "Listen, everybody, according to Confederation law if the appointed commander or designated controlling mechanism of a spaceship or free-flying space structure discontinues that control for one year and a day then any ownership title becomes null and void. Legally, this xenoc ship is an abandoned structure which we are' entitled to file a salvage claim on."
"There is a controlling network," Karl said.
"It's a sub-system," Marcus said. "The law is very clear on that point. If a starship's flight computer fails, but, say, the fusion generators keep working, their governing processors do not constitute the designated controlling mechanism. Nobody will be able to challenge our claim."
"The xenocs might," Wai said.
"Let's not make extra problems for ourselves. As the situation stands right now, we have title. We can't not claim the ship because the xenocs may return at some time."
Katherine rocked her head in understanding. "If we start examining the wormhole they might come back, sooner rather than later. Is that what you're worried about?"
"It's a consideration, yes. Personally, I'd rather like to meet them. But, Katherine, are you really going to learn how to build exotic matter and open a wormhole with the kind of sensor blocks we've got?"
"You know I'm not, Marcus."
"Right. Nor are we going to find the principle behind the artificial gravity generator, or any of the other miracles on board. What we have to do is catalogue as much as we can, and identify the areas that need researching. Once we've done that we can bring back the appropriate specialists, pay them a huge salary, and let them get on with it. Don't any of you understand yet? When we found this ship, we stopped being starship crew, and turned into the highest-flying corporate executives in the galaxy. We don't pioneer any more, we designate. So, we map out the last remaining decks. We track the power cables and note what they power. Then we leave."
"I know I can crack their programme language, Marcus," Karl said. "I can get us into the command network."
Marcus smiled at the weary pride in his voice. "Nobody is going to be more pleased about that than me, Karl. One thing I do intend to take with us is a cybermouse, preferably more than one. That molecular synthesizer is the hard evidence we need to convince the banks of what we've got."
Karl blushed. "Uh, Marcus, I don't know what'll happen if we try and cut one out of the composite. So far we've been left alone-, but if the network thinks we're endangering the ship. Well .. ."
"I'd like to think we're capable of something more sophisticated than ripping a cybermouse out of the composite. Hopefully, you'll be able to access the network, and we can simply ask it to replicate a molecular synthesizer unit for us. They have to be manufactured somewhere on board."
"Yeah, I suppose they do. Unless the cybermice duplicate themselves."
"Now that'd be a sight," Roman said happily. "One of them humping away on top of the other."
His neural nanonics time function told Karl he'd slept for nine hours. After he wriggled out of his sleep pouch he air-swam into the crew lounge and helped himself to a pile of food sachets from the galley. There wasn't much activity in the ship, so he didn't even bother to access the flight computer until he'd almost finished eating. Katherine was on watch when he dived into the bridge through the floor hatch. "Who's here?" he asked breathlessly. "Who else is on board right now?"
"Just Roman. The rest of them are all over on the wreck. Why?"
"Shit."
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Have you accessed the flight computer?"
"I'm on watch, of course I'm accessing."
"No, not the ship's functions. The satellite analysis network Victoria set up."
Her flat features twisted into a surprised grin. "You mean they've found some gold?"
"No way. The network was reporting that satellite seven had located a target deposit three hours ago. When I accessed the network direct to follow it up I found out what the search parameters really are. They're not looking for gold, those bastards are here to get pitchblende."
"Pitchblende?" Katherine had to run a search programme through her neural nanonics encyclopedia to find out what it was. "Oh Christ, uranium. They want uranium."
"Exactly. You could never mine it from a planet without the local government knowing; that kind of operation would be easily spotted by the observation satellites. Asteroids don't have deposits of pitchblende. But planetoids do, and out here nobody is going to know that they're scooping it up."
"I knew it! I bloody knew that fable about gold mountains was a load of balls."
"They must be terrorists, or Sonora independence freaks, or black syndicate members. We have to warn the others, we can't let them back on board Lady Mac."
"Wait a minute, Karl. Yes, they're shits, but if we leave them over on the wreck they'll die. Even if you're prepared to do that, it's the captain's decision."
"No it isn't, not any more. If they come back then neither you, me, nor the captain is going to be in any position to make decisions about anything. They knew we'd find out about the pitchblende eventually when Lady Mac rendezvoused with the ore particle. They knew we wouldn't take it on board voluntarily. That means they came fully prepared to force us. They've got guns, or weapons implants. Jorge is exactly what I said he was, a mercenary killer. We can't let them back on the ship, Katherine. We can't."
"Oh Christ," she was gripping the side of her acceleration couch in reflex. Command decision. And it was all hers.
"Can we datavise the captain?" he asked.
"I don't know. We've got relay blocks in the stairwells now the cybermice have been deactivated, but they're not very reliable; the structure plays hell with our signals."
"Who's he with?"
"He was partnering Victoria. Wai and Schutz are together; Antonio and Jorge made up the last team."
"Datavise Wai and Schutz, get them out first. Then try for the captain."
"Okay. Get Roman, and go down to the airlock chamber; I'll authorize the weapons cabinet to release some maser carbines ... Shit!"
"What?"
"I can't. Marcus has the flight computer command
codes. We can't even fire the thrusters without him."
Deck 14 appeared no different from any other as Marcus and Victoria wandered through it. The corridors were broad, and there were few doorways.
"About 60 percent is sealed off," Marcus datavised. "This must be a major engineering level."
"Yeah. There's so many cables around here I'm having trouble cataloguing the grid." She was wiping a magnetic sensor block slowly from side to side as they walked.
His communication block reported it was receiving an encrypted signal from the Lady Mac. Sheer surprise made him halt. He retrieved the appropriate code file from a neural nanonics memory cell.
"Captain?"
"What's the problem, Katherine?"
"You've got to get back to the ship. Now, Captain, and make sure Victoria doesn't come with you."
"Why?"
"Captain, this is Karl. The array satellites are looking for pitchblende, not gold or platinum. Antonio's people are terrorists, they want to build fission bombs."
Marcus focused his collar sensors on Victoria, who was waiting a couple of metres down the corridor. "Where's Schutz and Wai?"
"On their way back," Katherine datavised. "They should be here in another five minutes."
"Okay, it's going to take me at least half an hour to get back." He didn't like to think about climbing 14 flights of stairs fast, not in this gravity. "Start prepping the ship."
"Captain, Karl thinks they're probably armed."
Marcus's communication block reported another signal coming on line.
"Karl is quite right," Jorge datavised. "We are indeed armed; and we also have excellent processor blocks and decryption programmes. Really, Captain, this code of yours is at least three years out of date."
Marcus saw Victoria turn towards him. "Care to comment on the pitchblende?" he asked.
"I admit, the material would have been of some considerable use to us," Jorge replied. "But of course, this wreck has changed the Confederation beyond recognition, has it not, Captain?"
"Possibly."
"Definitely. And so we no longer require the pitchblende."
"That's a very drastic switch of alliance."
"Please, Captain, do not be facetious. The satellites were left on purely for your benefit; we didn't wish to alarm you."
"Thank you for your consideration."
"Captain," Katherine datavised. "Schutz and Wai are in the airlock."
"I do hope you're not proposing to leave without us," Jorge datavised. "That would be most unwise."
"You were going to kill us," Karl datavised.
"That is a hysterical claim. You would not have been hurt."
"As long as we obeyed, and helped you slaughter thousands of people."
Marcus wished Karl would stop being quite so blunt. He had few enough options as it was.
"Come now, Captain," Jorge said. "The Lady Macbeth is combat-capable; are you telling me you have never killed people in political disputes?"
"We've fought. But only against other ships."
"Don't try and claim the moral high ground, Captain. War is war, no matter how it is fought."
"Only when it's between soldiers; anything else is terrorism."
"I assure you, we have put our old allegiance behind us. I ask you to do the same. This quarrel is foolish in the extreme. We both have so much to gain."
And you're armed, Marcus filled in silently. Jorge and Antonio were supposed to be inspecting decks 12 and 13. It would be tough if not impossible getting back to the airlock before them. But I can't trust them on Lady Mac.
"Captain, they're moving," Katherine datavised. "The communication block in stairwell three has acquired them, strength one. They must be coming up."
"Victoria," Jorge datavised. "Restrain the captain and bring him to the airlock.
I advise all of you on the ship to remain calm, we can still find a peaceful solution to this situation."
UNARMED combat programmes went primary in Marcus's neural nanonics. The black, featureless figure opposite him didn't move.
"Your call," he datavised. According to his tactical analysis programme she had few choices. Jorge's order implied she was armed, though a scan of her utility belt didn't reveal anything obvious other than a standard fission blade. If she went for a gun he would have an attack window. If she didn't, then he could probably stay ahead of her. She was a lot younger, but his geneered physique should be able to match her in this gravity field.
Victoria dropped the sensor block she was carrying, and moved her hand to her belt. She grabbed the multipurpose power tool and started to bring it up.
Marcus slammed into her, using his greater mass to throw her off balance. She was hampered by trying to keep her grip on the tool. His impact made her sway sideways, then the fierce xenoc gravity took over. She toppled helplessly, failing fast. The power tool was swinging round to point at him. Marcus kicked her hand, and the unit skittered away. It didn't slide far, the gravity saw to that.
Victoria landed with a terrible thud. Her neural nanonics medical monitor programme flashed up an alert that the impact had broken her collar bone. Axon blocks came on line, muting all but the briefest pulse of pain. It was her programmes again which made her twist round to avoid any follow-on blow, her conscious mind was almost unaware of the fact she was still moving. A hand scrabbled for the power tool. She snatched it and sat up. Marcus was disappearing down a side corridor. She fired at him before the targeting programme even gave her an overlay grid.
"Jorge," she datavised. "I've lost him."
"Then get after him."
Marcus's collar sensors showed him a spray of incendiary droplets fizzing out of the wall barely a metre behind him. The multipurpose tool must be some kind of laser pistol. "Katherine," he datavised. "Retract Lady Mac's airlock tube. Now. Close the outer hatch and codelock it. They are not to come on board."
"Acknowledged. How do we get you back?"
"Yes, Captain," Jorge datavised. "Do tell."
Marcus dodged down a junction. "Have Wai stand by. When I need her, I'll need her fast."
"You think you can cut your way out of the shell, Captain? You have a fission blade, and that shell is held together by a molecular bonding generator."
"You touch him, shithead, and we'll fry that wreck," Karl datavised. "Lady Mac's got maser cannons."
"But do you have the command codes, I wonder. Captain?"
"Communication silence," Marcus ordered. "When I want you, I'll call."
Jorge's boosted muscles allowed l to ascend stairwell three at a speed which Antonio could never match. He was soon left struggling along behind. The airlock was the tactical high ground, once he had secured that, Jorge knew he'd won. As he climbed his hands moved automatically, assembling the weapon from various innocuous-looking pieces of equipment he was carrying on his utility belt.
"Victoria?" he datavised. "Have you got him?"
"No. He broke my shoulder, the bastard. I've lost him."
"Go to the nearest stairwell, I expect that's what he's done. Antonio, go back and meet her. Then start searching for him."
"Is that a joke?" Antonio asked. "He could be anywhere."
"No he's not. He has to come up. Up is where the airlock is."
"Yes, but-"
"Don't argue. And when you find him, don't kill him. We have to have him alive. He's our ticket out. Our only ticket, understand?"
"Yes, Jorge."
When he reached the airlock, Jorge closed the inner hatch and cycled the chamber. The outer hatch dilated to show him the Lady Macbeth's fuselage 15 metres away. Her airlock tube had retracted, and the fuselage shield was in place.
"This is a no-win stand-off," he datavised. "Captain, please come up to the airlock. You have to deal with me, you have no choice. The three of us will leave our weapons over here, and then we can all go back on board together. And when we return to a port none of us will mention this unfortunate incident again. That is reasonable, surely?"
Schutz had just reached the bridge when they received Jorge's datavise.
"Damn! He's disconnected our cable from the communication block," Karl said. "We can't call the captain now even if we wanted to."
Schutz rolled in midair above his acceleration couch and landed gently on the cushioning. Restraint webbing slithered over him.
"What the hell do we do now?" Roman asked. "Without the command codes we're bloody helpiess."
"It wouldn't take that long for us to break open the weapons cabinet," Schutz said. "They haven't got the captain. We can go over there and hunt them down with the carbines."
"I can't sanction that," Katherine said. "God knows what sort of weapons they have."
"Sanction it? We put it to the vote."
"It's my duty watch. Nobody votes on anything. The last order the captain gave us was to wait. We wait." She datavised the flight computer for a channel to the MSV. "Wai, status please?"
"Powering up. I'll be ready for a flight in two minutes."
"Thank you."
"We have to do something!" Karl said.
"For a start you can calm down," Katherine told him. "We're not going to help Marcus by doing anything rash. He obviously had something in mind when he told Wai to get ready."
The hatchway to the captain's cabin slid open. Marcus air-swam out and grinned round at their stupefied expressions. "Actually, I didn't have any idea what to do when I said that. I was stalling."
"How the hell did you get back on board?" Roman yelped.
Marcus looked at Katherine and gave her a lopsided smile. "By being right, I'm afraid. The dish is a distress beacon."
"So what?" she whispered numbly.
He drifted over to his acceleration couch and activated the webbing. "It means the wormhole doesn't go back to the xenoc homeworld."
"You found out how to use it!" Karl exclaimed. "You opened its other end inside the Lady Mac."
"No. There is no other end. Yes, they built it as part of their survival operation. It was their escape route, you were right about that. But it doesn't go somewhere; it goes somewhen."
Instinct had brought Marcus to the portal chamber. It was as good as any other part of the ship. Besides, the xenocs had escaped their predicament from here. In a remote part of his mind he assumed that ending up on their homeworld was preferable to capture here by Jorge. It wasn't the kind of choice he wanted to make.
The Year's Best Science Fiction: Fifteenth Annual Collection Page 38
