by B. V. Larson
I sidled closer. I’d only ever seen an actual Crustie once, at the Academy, when some dignitaries had come for a tour. Rumor had it that they might send officer candidates to attend and actually join Star Force, rather than just fly along as Earth’s allies. That would be pretty difficult from a logistical standpoint. I figured the Worms had a better chance of it, because at least they could survive in our atmosphere. Crusties needed water to cover certain key parts of their bodies, a function their suits could provide.
“You. Human. What are you staring at?” I realized I had been woolgathering, letting my eyes follow the strange crablike form, and it had noticed. Or he, I guess. I had no idea how to tell the difference between a male or female lobster by appearance alone. As his voice came over my suit radio, it sounded exactly like that of an irritated middle-aged male, probably using a finely tuned translation program.
“I’m staring at you. I’ve never met a Crustacean before.” I wasn’t going to let some lobster push me around. I knew Crusties always thought they were smarter than everybody else.
“Well, now you have. Singularity save me from becoming a tool for the education of immature humans. Why I bother conversing with anyone below the level of Professor is a mystery to me.” The Crustie shifted back and forth on his several legs, as if he couldn’t keep still. He waved his big front claws for emphasis.
His attitude was starting to piss me off. It’s one thing to read about it in a book or even watch it on a vid, but to experience this level of rudeness personally made me want to poke the bastard in one of his stalked eyes. “I wonder why you bother, too. It’s fine by me if you space yourself.” I turned away.
“You have not been dismissed,” the lobster complained. “I am Professor Hoon. It is I who persuaded your benighted government to return to my homeworld, which you ruined, to unlock the secrets of this ring. Only I can ensure success. You cannot ignore me.” I felt the thing slap me hard on the thigh with its suited claw, as if to get my attention.
Maybe it was everything that had happened in the last several days getting to me, but I lost my temper. I turned and booted the Crustie across the room. I’m sure he never expected a human to be able to do that, but between my enhancements and the low gravity, it was not that difficult. He sailed through the air, flipping end over end until he collided with the far wall and slid down. I’d pulled my kick so it was more a lift and shove than a killing blow, but I’d still put some strength into it.
“Uh, sir, let’s get out of here,” Kwon said as all the scientists and Star Force personnel turned to stare at me. “Don’t worry about the lobster. They have tough shells.” I let Kwon drag me up the ramp to the ship. I still felt like I wanted to punch something.
The Crustacean got me wondering about all the different biotic aliens. Before humans met any extraterrestrials, many scientists had theorized that evolution would be convergent, and the most efficient form to nurture tool-using sentience would be bipedal—something like humans even if the biology was a lot different.
As on many other occasions, the scientists had been completely wrong. For example, the Centaurs ran on all fours. Though they had useful hands up front, they never had made the transition to a bipedal form. The Crustaceans had hands of a sort, along with a bunch of legs for locomotion and big claws up front, I guess for fighting or mating or both. You’d think the claws would have atrophied away as evolutionary dead ends once intelligence and use of tools became the paramount determinant of whose genes got passed on. They didn't have a reputation for being fighters either. Then there were the Worms with their tentacles, and the Microbes, who didn’t even have multicellular bodies as we understood them, and the Blues, which were just really bizarre, dense aerogel with almost no form at all. So much for the theory of convergent evolution.
My own personal theory was that the Ancients—that was the word humanity had given to the unknown builders of the ring network—had seeded different worlds with biotic packages that favored or even programmed the uprising of species along specific lines. I mean, if I were a powerful alien race running around tinkering with the galaxy, I’d probably have fun experimenting with different forms of life on various planets, kind of like a running computer simulation. Maybe we were a game to them, or like pets. Maybe our life forms were the result of some Ancient kid’s science fair project.
“What will they do to Marvin?” I asked Kwon. Maybe a little guilt for booting the Professor was making me feel kinder toward the robot, who at least didn’t try to be an asshole.
“If I know Captain Turnbull, he’ll keep Marvin locked up until we return to base in a month or two.”
I persuaded Kwon to take me to the brig. Why the hell did I want Marvin free to cause trouble? I wasn’t sure. I just felt that if I talked to the robot long enough, I might start to figure out the whole planted bomb thing. There had to be something he hadn’t told us, even if he didn’t know it yet.
When we reached the lower decks, I saw the brig cell had been sealed with smart metal. Every crack and crevice gleamed with a fresh layer of constructive nanites. When we went in, I noticed Marvin jump away from the back corner, and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought he seemed guilty about something. How such a weird, non-android robot could express emotions with his body language I don’t know, but that was my impression.
Kwon stayed in the cell with us, but sealed up his helmet to give us some privacy. He didn’t trust the robot any more than the captain did, I could tell. In truth, I didn’t either. I recalled my dad telling me that Marvin had his own purpose in mind for everything he did, but he always put it in terms that would help Star Force. Often, his ideas turned out to be surprisingly useful. But other times, like when he deactivated the Venus minefield and invited the Macros in, he could be a disaster waiting to happen.
“Hello, Marvin.”
“Hello, Cody Riggs. Did you enjoy examining the ring?”
“How did you—never mind.” Somehow he knew what we had done. Maybe he heard us talking in the passageway or just deduced it from the fact that I was still wearing a pressure suit. “I bet you’d like to examine the ring as well.”
That perked him up. All his cameras suddenly focused on me. “I would enjoy that very much and would undoubtedly be able to contribute to the knowledge of the science team.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Obviously Marvin had learned even better how to blow sunshine up people’s butts in the years since he hung out with Dad and Mom. “You’ll have to convince me that it’s a good idea first.”
“Unfortunately I have been explicitly prohibited from directly experimenting on the rings, but I would very much like to examine this one.”
I waited for him to go on, but he just stopped talking. Eventually I asked, “Why was that?”
Marvin’s cameras began to wander in random directions. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, the last time I accessed an active ring I reduced ship traffic by half between systems for almost a month. May I see the ring now?”
“No you may not. I never heard about you experimenting on a ring. So you did something that made it so that only half as many ships could go through the ring?”
Marvin’s cameras all had focused on the wall, except for one aimed at Kwon. I realized Marvin was watching me in the steel mirror above the room’s sink, as if he did not want to look directly at me. “Not precisely. In fact, only half of each ship made it through to the other side. The other half kept traveling in normal space.”
“Damn. No wonder Star Force took away your mobility.”
“I did apologize.”
“I’m sure that was a great consolation to the families of the dead.”
“Biotics can always make more children. May I see the ring now?”
If that wasn’t so twisted it would have been funny. Cold, selfish bastard. I’d have to keep in mind he actually had no conscience, no matter how sensible he seemed at times. “Speaking of children, I heard you turned down the chance to reproduce when my father brought
the subject up.”
“Yes. I may have made an error. With more Marvins around, biotics might be more inclined to treat me as a protected class rather than just a rogue robot. I have been studying the history of collective struggle, beginning with unions and ending with the perversion of Communist ideology in the twentieth century—”
I cut him off. “Yeah, right. Bottom line, your little projects are damned dangerous. You had a lot of leeway when we were desperately fighting off the Macros, but now that life has gotten back to normal, you have to play by the rules.”
Marvin’s cameras turned back toward me. “I always play by the rules. It is not my fault that biotics often fail to understand their own rules, or alternatively, they want me to follow the rules they thought they made rather than the ones they actually made.”
“You’re a smart guy, Marvin. You should be able to figure out the difference between the spirit and the letter of the law.”
“You have no idea how much processing power it consumes just to try to figure out the contradictory expectations of biotic species. That is why I prefer investigating scientific phenomena such as the technology of the Ancients. Speaking of technology, may I—”
“Right. Back around to that again. I know you want to look at the ring. How do we know you won’t screw the pooch on this one, too?” That was an expression Mom hated but Dad used every now and again, and it seemed appropriate today.
“I fail to understand what having intercourse with a canine has to do with scientific inquiry.”
“Check your database on idiomatic sayings, Marvin.”
“Checking knowledge stores. Expression noted and understood. I will try not to screw the pooch. Now may I see the ring?”
I guess in some ways, Marvin was just like biotics. Even though he had a vast memory, he couldn’t hold it all in his consciousness at once. Sometimes I thought he couldn’t even access it as fast as biotic people could, especially if it was something that came out of left field, like an oddball idiom. On the other hand, he might just be faking the whole thing to make us think he was more obtuse than he really was. He was certainly single-minded, though.
“So, if I get you access to the dead ring, do you promise not to cause unnecessary trouble in any way, shape or form?”
“I promise, Cody Riggs.” Marvin’s tentacles began to quiver with apparent excitement. “Thank you in advance for your permission.”
“Okay then. I’ll see what I can do.”
When we left, Kwon sealed the cell up again. I wasn’t sure we could really keep Marvin incarcerated if he wanted to get out, but I knew he understood self-preservation and consequences, even punishments such as having some of his cameras, limbs or other tools taken away. More than once, Dad had threatened to reduce him to nothing but a brainbox in order to get compliance.
By the time we got to the bridge, the boards were lighting up with warnings.
“Energy drain detected,” came the voice of Valiant’s brainbox. “Power load exceeding design parameters. Compensating.”
“All ship’s power is being drained into the science team’s equipment,” the ops officer on duty blurted. “The generators have almost doubled their output and the brainbox has thickened the cables to handle the load, but it’s continuing to spike and we can’t stop it, sir!”
“Shut everything down,” Captain Turnbull ordered.
“We’ve tried, sir. Nothing works.”
“Valiant, reduce power to normal levels and cease sending it to the science team.”
“Unable to comply,” the brainbox said. “Command level insufficient. Updated protocols locked.”
“Crap!” I said, and pointed at the power readouts. Now they showed more than three times normal, and climbing. I pointed at the wall near the floor where I noticed a bulging and writhing in a horizontal line. “Look, the cables are still thickening, trying to carry more power.”
“I—I—” the captain sputtered. “Send the marines to the central generators. Tell them to cut the power leads with lasers. We’ll go on batteries until we get this sorted. Sergeant Major Kwon, go to the ring and shut down whatever those fools are doing—by force if you have to.”
Kwon bolted off the bridge and I followed him, suddenly glad we had both kept our suits on. Down the ramp onto the surface of the dead world, we waved as we ran, both yelling over our short-range com-links for the scientists to stop what they were doing.
The geeks and the lobster were clustered around their instruments, gesticulating and pounding on their controls. It looked like they were having as much success controlling their systems as Captain Turnbull had with his. The power cables from the ship to their gear writhed and pulsed like snakes that had swallowed a herd of mice.
“Kwon, cut the cables!” I yelled, too late. In a moment, the world turned upside down, and that was the last I remembered until I woke up floating in space.
-7-
Using his battlesuit repellers, Kwon aimed us at Valiant. The ship hung in front of us. Shaped like a tailless manta ray, its starboard wing had been sheared off, and I could see smart metal working hard to drag itself across the ragged, ripped-open edge of what was left.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Maybe we went through the ring?”
Kwon wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had a hell of a lot of experience with these things. His idea sounded reasonable to me. “How could that happen?”
“Those idiot geeks started something they couldn’t stop. Think they’re so smart—but no common sense.”
That jogged my memory. I recalled running toward the scientists yelling and waving my arms...and the power cables…
Before I could think more, Kwon propelled us into Valiant’s open and empty launch bay. The pinnace was probably out picking people up. He set me down onto the welcoming grav-plates. Unfortunately that gave my inner ear a flip-flop and made me aware of severe pain. I almost vomited. “Kwon, I think my leg is broken, and I may have a concussion. Take me to a med-bay.” The nanites and microbes in me were just stupid enough that they might set my bones into a broken configuration. The med-bay would optimize my healing.
When Kwon had placed me inside one, I queried the ship and learned that Adrienne was unharmed. That took a great load off my mind.
Half an hour later I limped up to the bridge and sat down in my damaged uniform. Some of the nanites were no longer operating, and the smart cloth was trying in vain to re-knit itself. The flaps crawled over my skin in an irritating fashion.
Turnbull glared at me, and I became aware of my poor appearance. But he was too busy to take me to task. I limped over to the opposite side of the holotank and examined our situation.
Apparently we now floated in a distant orbit above an airless rocky world that was larger than Mars but smaller than Earth. The ring we had fallen through drifted nearby.
“The power surge,” I muttered. “Somehow the science team activated the ring using the ship’s power. We must have gone through it.” Kwon had been right.
We’d been completely unprepared for this. The lower door and ramp had been open, and the ship’s routine had been set for a grounded position rather than ready for spaceflight. What’s more, with the generators out of control and pumping power to the ring, the brainbox had acted sluggishly, even rebelliously. I suddenly remembered it refusing to follow the captain’s override.
“Engine status?” I heard the captain ask.
“Engines operative but repellers are missing on the starboard side.”
“The factory?”
“No damage that I can see.”
Now that was interesting. This ship had a factory, which meant that theoretically it could be self-repaired if we had enough time and the right materials.
“Lost personnel status?” Turnbull asked.
The ops officer shook his head. “We’ve recovered everyone we could see, alive or dead. Twenty-one missing—the ones that were in the lost wing. They probably never made it throu
gh.”
“What about that Crustacean?”
“Recovered alive, sir.”
“Power systems?”
“Engineering reports all main generators functioning.”
That brought something else to mind. I limped over to a vacant console and quickly called up the status on Greyhound. To my surprise, I found her still firmly attached to Valiant. That made me feel a lot better. Wherever we were, two ships were better than one, and besides, all Adrienne’s and my stuff was aboard the Greyhound. Nobody likes to lose all their stuff.
For the next hour, we continued to recover the equipment floating alongside the battlecruiser and managed damage control. Smart metal performed simple tasks, but it took people to tell it what to do for anything more complicated. It needed people to direct repairing the lower airlock and ramp assembly that had apparently been ripped off in the ring transference. It also needed people for getting more constructive nanite skin on the part of the ship open to space.
I threw on a fresh uniform and helped deal with the ugliness, despite feeling beaten up myself. Hardly anyone had been in suits except the scientists, and even they lost most of their team. Even nanotized people could be torn in half or die of vacuum exposure. I carried bodies to a makeshift morgue we set up in a cargo bay. One young crewman’s dead staring eyes gave me a particular pang, reminding me of myself.
Going through a ring wasn’t supposed to be that rough. However, when a gateway is unexpectedly activated on a planet, really bad things tend to happen. With vacuum on one side and normal matter with gravity, tides and volcanic pressure on the other, our ships and a bunch of crustal matter had been sucked through like debris into a shop-vac.
As it turned out, we got three out of the dozen or so scientists back alive, plus Professor Hoon and several of the crew. Since none of the civilians had been nanotized, most of them had died from some form of blunt force trauma.
