The whole journey was like that. The local people, led by the children, ran to fall in behind the transporter, taking the places of those that had ventured far enough from their homes and finally gave up on the fun. Haynes was tempted to coin the phrase ‘the pilgrimage of the plasteel’, but refrained, thinking not to upset Bentham.
Bentham, though, had become conspicuous by his absence. After all the time that he had seemed to be his siamese twin, Haynes found that he missed having the man beside him. There was no practical problem as he had been replaced by two younger acolytes who seemed just as eager and just as competent in getting Haynes what he needed. When he made enquiries as to the old man’s presence, he was told that the Hochnarian was researching in the holy library or was locked in conference with the other elders and could not be disturbed for several hours. Haynes wasn’t about to pull him out of important business just to say that he missed him, but the man’s absence disturbed him.
Finally, after more than a week, the plasteel was laid to rest on the ground in front of the cave holding the spaceship. It was still being followed by quite a throng and many of those set up camp when they realised they had reached journey’s end in order to see what was going to happen next. Guards had to be placed on the entrance into the cave to keep out the curious and then guards had to be placed on the guards.
“Now what happens?” Simeon asked as the heavy transporter trundled away into the dust-shrouded distance. It had a whole week’s worth of work that it needed to catch up on.
“Now,” Haynes told him with a totally gratuitous pause for effect, “we polish.”
First, a tanker brought water (the second most important resource on Hochnar after manure) and the plate was washed clean of the quite considerable rime of dust that had built up on it. There was plenty of help as the onlookers became participants with almost no need to be asked. Then, specially sewn soft shoes were distributed and the crowd shuffled across the surface of the plasteel, dragging their feet.
By the end of the second day, the reflected sunlight was bright enough to make the sheet of plasteel the first man made object on Hochnar visible from orbit. Of course, there was no-one up there to see it.
The edge of the sheet was levered up a few millimetres and rocks were wedged under it. Dirt was then forced in under it and new rocks forced it up a little higher. On the morning of the fifth day, the reflected light of the sun flooded down into the cave. Haynes declared himself to be satisfied and ordered that spirits and food be brought from the nearest stores for everyone. It was probably the largest party that Hochnar had ever seen and nobody wondered who was going to pay for it all.
Haynes, Simeon and Keely ventured down into the cave shortly after nightfall. Throughout the day, the intensity of the reflected sunlight had made it impossible to stay in front of the mirror for more than a few seconds without spontaneously catching fire. Music was still playing from the camp behind them and there was no indication that it was ever going to stop.
“So you’re feeding it energy,” Simeon said as they lit torches and wandered down the short incline to the chamber where the ship sat, as silent as ever.
“That’s it,” Haynes agreed, pointing to some small panels on the ship’s surface. “These are emergency power cells. They’ll have been charging up all day.” He crossed over to the entry hatch and pressed the keypad there. Nothing happened.
“The cells are completely depleted,” Haynes surmised disappointedly, stroking one hand over the smooth surface. “There’s not even enough power to open the door yet.”
“You won’t be able to get enough energy off that plasteel to make this thing fly,” Simeon told him flatly.
“No, but we don’t need to.”
They wandered back out to join the party, drink too much impure beer and end up with devastating hangovers. In the dark cave behind them, the ship lay dark and dormant.
Or almost.
In the very heart of the computer system that ran the engineering section, a microscopic switch switched. After about an hour, another switch closed and a circuit was made.
The Shipping Guild Agent looked at the man on the viewscreen with a growing sense of unreality. There wasn’t a lot about what was going on that seemed real, but the one thing that convinced him of the very serious reality of his situation was the Star Fleet deep space frigate that was sat in parking orbit outside his window with all its weapons ports firmly opened.
As the official Shipping Guild Agent, he was one of the very few people on the space waystation to have an actual window (fabricated from actual transparent plasteel at an actually exorbitant cost) and so he was one of the few people who could be actually scared out of his wits by the giant battleship floating only a few hundred metres away.
The man on the viewscreen watched him with a detachment as cold as the vacuum that separated them. There was a chance that, if he craned his neck hard enough, the Agent would be able to see the man himself through a window not unlike his own. The thought made him queasy.
“I understood that your previous client, now my actual client, had sent his permission for the release of the documents,” the source of the queasiness was saying. The Agent could not tell whether the man was angry about the situation or not as he showed no emotion, but rather assumed that outright anger would probably be accompanied with outright space cannon fire.
“It’s not as simple as that,” the Agent explained patiently. Normally, he enjoyed explaining to people why he was saying no to them even more than the saying no itself, but they weren’t ever backed up by enough firepower to melt a small planet. The spacestation he was on could be rendered slag on a relatively low setting and then be sold on to scrap dealers with his bones still fused inside.
“Explain it to me,” the other man allowed in a way that silently added, in a way that gives me what I want.
“That freighter will have made a hundred calls on a hundred worlds. Other customers will have loaded and off-loaded cargo, though not passengers. That stuff smells so bad even when permafrozen.”
“Anyway,” the other man said with a patience that spoke of being all that lay between the Agent and floating in deep space without a helmet, and possibly without a head.
“Those clients don’t wish to have their cargoes traced,” the Shipping Guild Agent finished hurriedly.
“I have no interest in the smuggled contraband of a few lowlife criminals,” the man on the viewscreen said. “My only interest is in the Djemese shipment. Those are the only records that I need.”
“Our other clients would not choose to believe you. Simply knowing which ports were visited in which order could seriously compromise their businesses,” the Agent continued. He added bravely, “And I don’t think they would appreciate being termed ‘lowlifes’.”
“Your final word is no, then?” the man asked, his expression not changing at all. It was as if he were honestly asking the question. The Shipping Guild Agent tried to recall the last time he had been confronted by honesty and failed.
“I am afraid it is the only answer that could ever be considered,” the Agent said with an apologetic shrug. It was only a slight shrug, but then he was only a little bit sorry. “And blowing up this station won’t change that.”
“I understand,” the other man nodded, equally slightly, “and I never intended to blow up your station.”
The Shipping Guild Agent relaxed slightly.
“Isn’t that your Guild Headquarters on the planet below?” the other man then asked conversationally.
“What?” the Shipping Guild Agent asked and suddenly felt very cold in the region of his spine.
“According to the travel guide, this is the nerve centre of the whole guild. If anything were to happen to it the whole operation would crumble,” the other man continued, “and the Republic with it.”
“You wouldn’t,” the Agent declared, appalled by the scale of what he was fearing.
“Wouldn’t what?” Innocence was clearly something that the
other man had severed any link with a long time ago.
“But so many people,” the Agent said in horror. He visited the Headquarters site on many occasions and knew so many of the workers there.
The man on the viewscreen consulted the travel guide once again, “Yes, it says here that there are several thousand people there at any time.” He paused significantly before adding, “That’s a lot of eggs.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I forgive you.”
“I meant that I didn’t understand the reference,” the Agent was trying to think as quickly as possible, looking for a way to warn the people at HQ without letting the man on the viewscreen know what he was doing.
“Eggs,” the patient man prompted, “basket.”
“Oh I see,” the Agent said, pleased that he understood and then not pleased at all that he understood.
“Such a lot of people, such a small amount of data.”
Out of the window, the Agent saw the vessel slightly shift its attitude as though bringing its guns to bear on something.
“All right, all right,” he surrendered immediately, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Send me a datalink and I’ll download the files.”
The transfer took only a few seconds and the deep space frigate started to manoeuvre away.
The Shipping Guild Agent watched it go for a few seconds and then turned back to his computer to compose a report for his superiors. Behind him, there were four distinct popping sounds and the window floated away into space.
Keely noticed it first. Haynes went straight to the hatch to find it was still sealed against them. A second day’s merciless sunshine had been reflected down into the cave and dusk had fallen enough to allow them entry. The ship looked exactly as it had previously. There was no external sign that anything had changed.
Haynes kicked at the floor in frustration.
“The solar energy collectors can only absorb so much energy,” he reasoned, “no matter how much we give it.”
“It’s watching us,” Keely said from near to the prow of the ship.
“And that’s assuming everything still works,” Haynes continued, oblivious, “which you can’t expect when the cells have been completely depleted for years.”
“I said it’s watching us,” Keely said, more forcefully.
“That’s just your imagination,” Haynes dismissed the thought, still feeling around the hatch seals for a way in. “It’s a spooky cave, at night with flickering torchlight. Bound to play on an impressionable mind.”
“I am not impressionable!” Keely declared, planting her fists angrily on her hips. Had he even been looking, Haynes might have considered what a striking figure she cut and the evening might have taken a whole new direction.
As it was he merely mumbled, “Never suggested it for a moment.”
“There’s a camera lens here and when I move around, it follows me.”
“Really?” Haynes abandoned the hatch and came around the hull of the ship to join her.
She pointed to a tiny panel in the forward skin of the ship. Behind the transparent plasteel, Haynes could make out a tiny gel lens. As he leaned forward for a closer examination, the lens bulged, trying to keep him in focus .
“Bloody hell you’re right!” he stepped back in surprise and then spent a few moments surveying the ship in deep thought. Moving out so that he could take in the whole of the ship with a single look, he beckoned for Keely to follow him. Looking deep into her eyes, he leaned down towards her. She raised up her face to his and pursed her lips in anticipation of the kiss. “If it can see us then it can certainly hear us,” he whispered to her just before their lips met. “Follow my lead.”
There was a cough from the cave mouth behind them. Haynes moved quickly away, like a startled, not to mention guilty, rabbit. Keely remained where she was, puzzlement giving way to annoyance on her face.
“Interrupting something was I?” Simeon queried from the cave mouth.
“Not at all,” Haynes replied quickly in case Keely decided to contradict him. “It certainly wasn’t what it looked like.”
“You weren’t pretending to kiss my sister in order to speak to her privately?”
“Oh,” Haynes was taken aback for a second. “Well, in that case it was exactly what it looked like.”
Keely’s annoyed pout deepened to a point where it threatened the muscles around her mouth.
“Who’s listening?” the younger man demanded.
“The ship is,” Haynes revealed softly.
“The ship!” Simeon declared before he could stop himself.
“Yes, the ship,” Haynes said through gritted teeth. “Now just stay quiet and follow my lead.” He paused for a moment and then added, “and if you’re not sure what my lead is then just don’t speak.”
They went back to join Keely, who hadn’t been enjoying herself in front of the ship alone. The feeling of being watched that she had felt the moment that she entered the cave had intensified since discovering that she really was being watched. She could also not imagine what range of devices the ship was looking at her through. It made her feel naked. The thought then occurred that it might have a device that could look through her clothes so that she would be naked. Why a spaceship would want to see her naked was not a question that occurred to her and probably wouldn’t have comforted her if it had.
“Are you all right?” Haynes asked solicitously as they rejoined her.
“Not really. I…”
“That’s good,” he approved, not listening. He took another step forward and said loudly, “Ship, open the hatch!”
Immediately, nothing happened. The ship remained as inscrutably inert as before.
“Did Uncle Silas have any pet names for it that you can recall?” Haynes leaned back to whisper to the younger people.
“He called it ‘bitch’, mostly,” Simeon replied. “Except when he was in a bad mood.”
“That’s not likely to work for me,” Haynes mused. “Computer, open the hatch.”
Still there was no response, so Haynes approached the ship, putting on his most silky persuasive voice. “Now I know that you can hear me in there. It takes more power to run a gel camera than it does a microphone, so please open the hatch.”
The hatch stayed stubbornly, not mention smugly, closed.
“Can’t we at least talk about it?” Haynes changed tack. “If you can run a camera and a mike then you can also run a speaker circuit. Let’s talk. Please.”
The ship stayed silent.
“Any ideas guys?” Haynes shrugged and turned to the others.
“Ultradiamond drill?” Simeon suggested promptly.
“You got one?” Haynes queried.
Simeon shook his head.
“Wouldn’t work anyway. These hulls can’t be punctured by direct hits from asteroids. No drill’s going to touch that.”
“Thermic lance then,” Simeon said.
Haynes shook his head again, “One of these babies once surfed on a solar flare. A thermic lance wouldn’t even warm it up a little.”
“Shaped sonic charge then,” the younger man persisted.
Haynes considered that. “Right idea, but half the hill would shake itself down on your head before you shook the hatch loose.”
“Is there no way in?” Keely demanded plaintively.
“We can’t open the hatch from this side and the system refuses to even talk to us.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “I guess you were right about the sonic charges. If we move the mirror and collapse the tunnel then we can leave it to power back down and die gracefully. Permanently, this time.”
He turned away and headed slowly towards the cave entrance.
The others shared a puzzled glance and then followed. Behind them, there was a hiss as the air pressure equalised and the seal on the hatch was released.
Haynes spun around on his heel, a wide grin splitting his face.
“You see what happens when you listen,” he said, walking up a
nd patting the underside of the ship’s nose. “You get to make the right decision. I don’t suppose I could persuade either of you to stop outside?” he asked the younger siblings.
“Only in dreams of the wilder kind,” Keely confirmed fervently, nodding her head so hard that Haynes feared it might come loose.
“In which I am sure that my little sister does not appear,” Simeon pointed out with deceptive nonchalance.
Haynes looked around until he found a rock that he thought would do the job and then pulled the hatch open. Normally, it should have opened completely automatically. It was possible that there was still not enough charge stored up in the ship’s batteries to power it, but he was not about to take chances. He peered cautiously down the corridor beyond, but it was empty. Hefting the rock, he wedged it into position so that the hatch couldn’t close without generating pressure enough to pulverise solid stone.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” Keely watched the process with wide eyes.
“The thing about spaceships is that they need to be airtight,” he explained as he dusted off his hands. “That means that the vacuum can be on the inside as well. Also, newly-rebooted AI personalities can be notoriously cranky. Let’s take a look shall we?”
He tested the floor gingerly with one rubber-soled shoe to make sure that there wasn’t fifty million volts running through it and then stepped forward with a little more confidence.
The corridor was short, stark and empty. Haynes thought that he could detect a faint vibration in the air, but wasn’t about to touch the walls in order to check. The air tasted old and felt depleted in his lungs. The ship had been sealed a long time. The only decoration was a hand reader panel on the far door that glowed an uninviting red.
“Open the door please computer,” Haynes instructed. As he expected, nothing changed and the panel continued to glow balefully. “Computer, open the door please.”
“Handscan required for access,” an inhuman machine voice said with a total lack of inflection.
To Infinity Page 5
