“Resetting now,” he whispered. “Normal soon.”
“It’ll be a long time before I can trust any of them,” Bedelev said.
As silently as they could, Plet and the others approached the door of the Chief Engineer.
“The interruption is only temporary,” Plet said over the secured circuit. “Just until the system resets. Why didn’t Fovrates react? I’m certain the LAIs sent him a warning that they were under attack.”
“Speaking,” Redius whispered over the secured circuit. Plet’s headcam image bobbed slightly to show she nodded. “Must be important.”
“Let’s hear it all.”
The Uctu tossed a soft device to the floor. It rolled over and over again until it touched the sealed door, then it spread out and attached itself to the frame. The sound from within became audible, if not comprehensible over the headsets.
Parsons turned up the gain to hear what Fovrates was saying on the other side of the door of his office. It sounded like yet another string of binary numbers, like the ones that he had transmitted previously to Phutes and the Kail aboard the Jaunter.
“Translate,” Plet whispered.
An autotrans system in the eavesdropper kicked into operation.
“. . . 11101111. Fitting historical description,” Fovrates sounded jubilant. “Next, 1110101110000001 . . . .” The string of numbers went on and on.
“That can bode no good for us or our allies,” Parsons said. “Interrupt him.”
“Aye, sir,” Plet said. She nodded to Redius.
The Uctu touched a control on his chest, and the film attached to the door emitted a puff. Almost soundlessly, most of the metal and ceramic portal simply crumbled into dust. The Wichu officers were so taken aback that they stood frozen, but Plet, Redius and Inoyav plunged forward.
The Kail inside bellowed as the door fell. When they saw Plet and the others, they thundered toward them. Plet dropped to her knee and fired a blast of gelatin at the first few to emerge.
The reaction was everything that Parsons could have hoped. The Kail stopped short, screeching in increasingly high frequencies as they tried to brush the offending material from their persons. The Kail behind them tried to push past their fellows, but were instantly brought to a halt by further jets of goo. Those that attempted to break away and avoid Plet’s fire were dropped by stun blasts by Redius and Inoyav. Most of the Wichu officers’ shots missed or hit pieces of equipment, causing the dim room to explode with bursts of light.
Redius and his Wichu ally plunged forward among the writhing, screaming Kail. Only a few of the stone-skinned creatures tried to fend them away from the enormous being who stood at a screentank attached to the far wall.
Fovrates was at least half again as tall and as bulky as the rest of the Kail. He continued to reel off numbers despite the defenders rushing toward him.
“Step away from the screen,” Plet ordered him, her gelatin gun leveled on him.
“No!” he bellowed. “Just 11000 more seconds! 000010101110010 . . . .”
Coolly, the Rodrigo’s commander fired shot after shot of viscous liquid at the chief engineer of the Whiskerchin. Fovrates let out a howl of protest, but didn’t stop talking.
“110101101001010101111101 . . . !”
“Take him down, Redius!”
The Uctu lowered the heavy gun in his direction and fired a burst of orange power. When the crackling died away, the enormous Kail slumped beside his board. The Wichu crew moved in hastily with cables and secured Fovrates. The other Kail, all much smaller and lighter, huddled together in the sandbox in the corner of the room, as far from Plet as they could go.
“What’s wrong with them?” Bedelev asked, in open astonishment. “They’re always in my face!”
“Humans,” Redius said, his tongue vibrating with humor. “Never seen before. Terror.”
Plet made an annoyed sound. She moved to read the scope.
“What did he send?” she asked, looking at page after page of zeroes and ones. “Anstruther, can you read this? What is this file?”
“I don’t know, lieutenant,” the young woman’s voice came over the headset audio. “I’ll download it and run it through analysis immediately.”
“Well, I doubt that the Kail on the Jaunter will tell us. We can’t do anything about that now.”
Fovrates stirred slightly, then rose up like an earthquake. Bedelev stuck the weapon into his face.
“Don’t move, Sandy,” she said. “All I have to do is move my finger a little and blast you into particles.”
“No need for threats, captain,” the engineer said. “I am neutralized.”
“What is this information you were transmitting?” Plet asked.
“Amusements for my younger relations,” Fovrates said. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“We trusted you,” Bedelev said, showing her pointed teeth in a snarl. “Catch me ever going anywhere near a Kail again.”
“For what it is worth, you were a good captain,” Fovrates said, his stone face placid. “I have done my best not to interfere with your mission.”
“Like that helps! I don’t know if I can trust any of my mechanicals ever again!” Bedelev turned to the other officers. “They made a mess of the brig. Where can we put them?”
“How about in the cold storage locker?” Inoyav said. “It’s self-contained, with no Infogrid connection. We can arrange air and water until we can offload them on the platform ship.”
Bedelev looked at him curiously. “You and I are going to have a talk later. She gestured with the gun. “Okay, Sandy, out of here.”
Fovrates presented a stoic face. “One day you will see. You will see how we feel. And we are not without other resources.”
“Get going.” She gestured with the barrel of the weapon. All of the Kail edged uneasily toward the door, then hesitated until Plet moved out of the way. “As soon as we get to the platform, you’re somebody else’s problem.”
She handed them off to the other officers and Inoyav, who herded them out. Redius counted them as they left.
“How many supposed Kail?” Redius asked. “Nine trapped in lifts. Twenty-four here. Two with Oskelev. Three on Jaunter.”
“Supposed to be forty,” Captain Bedelev said.
“Thirty-eight?” Redius insisted.
“So someone misread the manifest,” the Wichu said, with a shrug. “It was in binary, like these gritmonsters like to count. No big deal. We’ll dump them on the platform. Let them figure out how to get home from there. Thanks so much for your help. We can get back to normal, now.”
“We’re glad to help an ally,” Plet said. She nudged her communications nub, though Parsons had been listening all along. “We have them, sir. The Whiskerchin is secured.”
“Excellent job, lieutenant,” Parsons said. “All of you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
CHAPTER 31
Great excitement arose among those of us on the Jaunter as the tiny bright speck that was the viewing platform vessel hove into view. Erita, of all people, was the one who spotted it first in the screentank on the wall of our common room.
“Look!” she cried, putting as much drama into a single syllable as she could muster.
Xan, Laine, Nell and I looked up from the life-and-death game of Snap Dragon in which we were engaged. Xan, who had been losing and had comprehensively failed at the game of hide-and-seek, threw his cards in with a casual flip. Laine and I exchanged amused glances when we saw that he had been holding onto a pair of threes and a five, all in the wrong suits for a meld. I sprang to my feet and assisted Laine in regaining hers. Nell bounced up as nimbly as a young gazelle and dashed to join Erita at the scope.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“It is,” Erita said. To confirm, she pushed her finger into the midst of the three-dimensional display. Immediately, the diamond of light expanded until it filled the tank. The dot broadened out into a hemisphere like the cornea of an eye, but instead of a face behind it, this eye was set at t
he end of a massive gray cylinder pockmarked with dark openings, each surrounded by a line of twinkling lights that chased around its perimeter. Those delineated landing bays for ships from single-party craft to substantial cruisers. In the center of the gigantic cylinder and at the end opposite the dome were enormous exhaust ports. The drives to which they were attached were deep inside the body of the ship.
“It’s massive!” Xan said, admiringly. “How do they get it from place to place without it breaking apart?”
“I don’t know, but it travels pretty well,” Laine said. “They’ve taken it to a few of the destructions I’ve witnessed, though, and those were all over the place.”
“How old is it?” Nalney asked, coming up to peer at the image. “Look at those drive housings. It looks like it dates from the middle of the last millennium.”
“Older than that,” Laine said. “The Trade Union had it built at least three thousand years ago. It’s really well designed. The Trade Union keeps it maintained and redecorates it every few decades. I’m told that the drives are updated to match the latest breakthroughs.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure it’s fairly pedestrian inside,” Erita said.
As if to contradict her, images and pulsing lines of print invaded the screentank.
“This is a message from the Trade Union,” the speakers blared in five languages. A scanning beam lanced out from the tank and ran down our bodies. Once it confirmed that only humans were present, the voices coalesced into one speaking perfect Imperium Standard. “This is a Universal Approved Screening. Do not be alarmed. Welcome to the TU Event Vessel Hraklion. Please observe all regulations and rules while you are on board. Thank you for coming. Your reservations have been confirmed, Imperium Jaunter, for eighty cabins, full catering, beverages, spa services, all taxes and gratuities included. Room assignments are available at this link.” A red circumflex appeared in the midst of the image, over one of the hatch openings. “All modern conveniences have been made available for your comfort.”
I had been trying to determine the power capabilities of the engines from the configuration of the hull when the image changed to an interior picture of a chamber with one transparent curved wall.
“No luxury has been spared in creating an experience to be remembered on board the Hraklion. Every residence is furnished with classic elegance. You will be welcomed by personal stewards who will welcome you by name. . . .”
“Cursed advertisements!” Nalney said, drawing his black brows toward his nose.
“I agree,” Erita said, raising her voice over the narrator, as image after image of beautifully-furnished cabins flashed in what ought to have been a navigation portal. “There is a time and a place. We ought to be able to peruse the brochures at our leisure, not have them shoved in our faces.”
“Turn off ads,” Jil said, in desperately bored tones.
“Yes, madam,” the announcer said. “Please activate this link,” and a green caret appeared, “to continue with the description.”
“Rotate image to display the viewing platform,” I said. The image of the cylinder shifted in three dimensions to bring the crystal dome toward us. I had a bird’s-eye, or rather, comet’s-eye, considering the speed at which the image turned, of what might have been a village. It was laid out in pie wedges more than squares, but the concept was the same. Individual neighborhoods were designated by open seating areas. Boundaries between them consisted of rows of open-roofed areas containing shops, restaurants and cafes, play yards, swimming pools, and gardens. In the middle was a cluster of lift shafts and a bank of individual personal conveniences marked by the universal symbol consisting of a discreet blue double circle.
“That looks as if it’ll be nice,” Nell said. “I want to sit close to the edge.” She pointed. “Possibly there.” She chose a three-cornered nook enclosed in a border of brilliant pink and yellow plants, which was in turn surrounded by pergola-topped service areas painted a warm chestnut.
“We will secure that one at once,” I said. I touched the red symbol, and pointed to her choice. “Reserve this space for Lady Lionelle Kinago and party.”
“I am sorry, Lord Thomas Kinago,” the voice said. “The section of the platform you have indicated has been set aside for use by . . . Kail passengers. That section is . . . secured.”
“Secured?” I asked. “Secured how?”
The computer was not forthcoming on further details. My curiosity was aroused.
“Confound it,” Xan said, frowning. “They’re not going to bag all the good spots! I won’t have it.”
I turned a helpless palm upward. “Computer, indicate sections that are available for use by humans.”
Parts of the image became blotted out underneath a haze of purple, including the section that Nell had chosen. A thick bar outlined it. The center section, including the round dais at the heart of the platform, took on a silver aura. The rest of the circular area, a good two-thirds, infused itself with tea green.
“All carbon-based guests are encouraged to mix within this zone, Lord Thomas Kinago. The deeper hues indicate advance reservations by other parties.”
I scanned the map until I found a lovely little nook large enough to hold all of us and our various retainers without crowding. It was near the edge, and commanded a splendid view of four or five habitats nearby.
“What do you think of that one, Nell?” I asked.
My sister beamed. “That’ll do. Good eye, Thomas!”
“That one,” I told the computer.
“Yes, my lord. It is currently unassigned. It is being reserved in the name of . . . Lady Lionelle.” The triangle of couches and a nearby café lit up in brilliant green.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome, my lord. When you arrive at gate Mega-C-970, please take the lift to the eighth level to find your suites. Your luggage will be conveyed from your shuttle for you. Please feel free to visit your reserved space at any time.”
Nell squeezed my arm. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said. “Oh, this is going to be such fun! Laine, I hope you will join us.”
“I’d like to,” Laine said. “I’ll be with the Zang most of the time.”
“That’s a shame,” Jil said. “I had looked forward to hearing you describe what is going on.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be doing that already!” Laine said, pointing to an open space near the center of the platform near the lift shafts. “That’s where the Zang always are. Proton wants me there. I’ll have an audio pickup hooked up to the central communication system. You can tune in to the frequency to listen to me. Or not. After the first one of these that I was present for, the ship company took a survey. 43.5 percent of the attendees listened for a little while. Twenty percent of those listened to the whole thing from start to finish—and it can take hours. The rest never tuned in at all. I’ll be translated into twelve or so languages and broadcast shipwide. It’s nice that some people want to just experience the event without having to be told what they’re seeing.”
I glanced away from the brightness that was the dome, and scanned the heavens around the viewing platform. Eventually, I spotted a couple of brilliant crescent shapes hanging by themselves two million or so kilometers from the sun.
“And is one of those the unhappy subject of the operation?” I asked.
Laine peered at it. She seemed to be listening.
“I think so,” she said. “You’ll feel pulsing as we get closer. I can sort of sense it, but I’ve had a lot of experience at it. That’s the Zang starting to concentrate energy on their target. We’re still a long way from the spectacle, but this is how it feels while it starts to build.”
I closed my eyes and tried to sense a beat surrounding me, but the thrum of the Jaunter overpowered anything that might be coming from a small pinpoint of rock still millions of kilometers distant from our location.
“You are remarkable if you can feel anything so far away,” I commented. “You must be very sensitive indeed.” Laine beamed and gave
me a quick hug. I kept my arms wrapped around her.
“That’s so nice of you,” she exclaimed. I contained my wince. She would have been nearly an ideal woman, if not for that voice. I mused yet again that Proton must not be troubled by sounds in the high frequency range. Still, it was the only flaw in an otherwise wonderful woman. We stood and watched platform approach.
We were not the first to arrive. As the cylinder continued to tumble in space, I noticed that at least a dozen of the many docking bays were occupied already. Numerous small craft were circling near us, no doubt seeking their own berths.
“Isn’t that an Uctu ship?” Jil asked, pointing to a terra-cotta-colored vessel like a truncated pitchfork.
“Could the Autocrat have come here?” I wondered out loud.
Xan raised his hips to reach his pocket, and pulled out his viewpad. He had not troubled to rise to his feet to look at the navigation tank. In his defense, it was large enough to have been seen from anywhere in the room. “No, not on her Infogrid page, Thomas. Some other officials are here. Oh, yes, look at that. A veritable pantheon of guests, of which we are the highest ranking.”
“By all reasoning, we are hosts here,” Erita reminded him, with a shake of her forefinger. “As this is Imperium space, we should welcome all other attendees as guests.”
“But technically, isn’t this all Zang space, including the Imperium?” I asked, unable to keep from figuratively twisting my haughty cousin’s tail.
“Oh, Thomas, that goes without saying!” she said, turning her disapproving mien in my direction. “But they don’t care about protocol. We do.”
“That’s very true,” Laine said. She stiffened and gasped, as though someone had pinched her. I sent a querying glance toward Xan, who raised innocent hands and eyebrows toward the ceiling. He was too far away to have done anything. Laine freed herself reluctantly from my embrace. “I have to go. Proton wants me. I guess I’ll see you all on the platform!”
I walked her toward the lift shaft.
“It could be days until I see you again,” I said.
She smiled, her lovely dark eyes full of affection.
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