in0 (27 page)

“This is the alien derelict as we left it--” he said. He went on to describe their cautious approach to the ship, the reboarding operation, and their subsequent explorations. As he spoke, he worked through a series of holographs taken inside the damaged craft, including several showing the additional alien corpses they had discovered. Finally, he displayed the cutaway diagram of the derelict compiled from information garnered during a thousand person-hours of explorations. The cutaway showed not only the basic construction of the
Whale
, but also the modifications that had brought it to a state of minimal space worthiness. The damage sustained during the running fight with the Broan warship was marked in red.

“As you can see, the
Whale
is a squat cylinder designed to haul cargo.” He manipulated the control that moved a glowing arrow inside the holocube, marking three large volumes inside the alien ship. “We found these holds filled with what can best be described as ‘general goods.’ We did our best to catalog the ship’s cargo, but we lacked the people or time to do a thorough job. That will be the job of some of you bound for Luna. What will emerge from that cataloging will be the best picture we can obtain of the Broan civilization short of going there.

“Here you see the ship’s living quarters. Though a cargo vessel, the
Whale
had accommodations for a few passengers. Passengers and crew lived together, although each species seemed to have its own section. Whether this was due to clannishness, different life support needs, or a caste system aboard ship, we were unable to determine. Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that the members of the crew objected to each other’s body odor.

“The ship’s engines occupy this large volume near the center of the ship. The generators the Broa use to warp space operate on essentially the same principles that ours do, although the implementation is somewhat different. In fact, much of what we found aboard was recognizable as being similar to our equipment. The one overriding impression I had of the ship is that it wasn’t nearly advanced enough to have come from a spacefaring civilization as old as the Sovereignty.” Dan went on to recount Laura Dresser’s theory that the Broa were afraid to introduce new technology lest it destabilize their empire.

One by one, he outlined the expedition’s findings. He told the audience about the safety doors that had opened simultaneously through some disastrous malfunction at the precise moment a maintenance hatch had blown away. He reviewed the condition of the computers as they had found them - operative, but with vast holes in their memory. He showed view after view of the stern where the Avenger’s beams had seared the hull plates. Finally, after nearly two hours in which no one said a word save for a few muttered oaths, he finished by saying; “The damage to the ship was much less extensive than we feared. In fact, patching up the wreck was the easiest task that faced us. It was much more difficult to install the stardrive and fusion generators and ensure that we had an unbroken conductive surface through which to transmit the drive field. In the end, the
Ruptured Whale
proved herself a good ship. We were able to make it back across one hundred light-years without incident. Now then, if there are any questions, I will be glad to answer them.”

#

In daylight, the verandah of the restaurant of the Al-Hoceima resort provided diners with a panoramic view of the Mediterranean. At night, the open dining area was an island of light at the edge of a stygian sea, the blackness made more intense by the faint sky glow emanating from the opposite shore far below the horizon. Here and there, specks of white light punctuated the darkness where vessels passed en route to and from the Strait of Gibraltar. Dan Landon sat in a wicker chair beneath an umbrella no longer needed as protection against the vanished desert sun and watched the brilliant speck that marked a Mediterranean cruise ship as it slid slowly from view. He wondered if its captain ever became bored with voyaging around what was, after all, merely a glorified lake. The thought was enough to trigger claustrophobia in one who had recently crossed a hundred light-years of vacuum.

“I think it went well today, Captain,” Anton Bartok said from across the table. The director of the Stellar Survey was idly chasing an olive around his martini with a crystal stirrer as he, too, decompressed from what had been a tough couple of days. The flickering candle at the center of the table illuminated Bartok’s face with a red-orange glow. The candlelight improved his sallow complexion while softening the worry lines that were beginning to be etched permanently into his countenance. “Do you agree, Doctor Bendagar?”

“Quite well,”
Magellan
’s chief scientist said. “I was surprised at how good a shape the
Whale
is in.”

“It’s a big ship,” Landon replied. “It looked to me like the Broan Avenger was trying to disable it rather than destroy it outright.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Good question. I am afraid I do not have the answer. Perhaps we should put the question to Sar-Say again. Or maybe the scientists will be able to tell us after they’ve had time to study the derelict and its cargo.”

“I doubt they will have much of an opportunity,” Bartok muttered as he stared at the fuzzy image of the candle flame inside its small sphere of red tinged glass. The smell of hot wax was evident in the night breeze that blew directly into his face.

“What do you mean?” Bendagar demanded.

The director gazed at the scientist, then sighed audibly. “I wonder if either of you recognize the fact that we’ve had it easy up until now? Only a few people know about Sar-Say and those of us who do are largely in agreement as to our course of action. Even the scientists at this conference tend to be of one mind ... an amazing phenomenon when you consider the arguments that usually break out at these things.

“Unfortunately, all of this is about to change. We have kept this secret about as long as it is possible to keep any secret. Soon, possibly tomorrow or the next day, our little conspiracy is going to break wide open. When that happens, the excrement is going to hit the ventilator! The public is going to go positively ape when they start hearing what Sar-Say has been telling us. They are going to feel very frightened and demand that their elected representatives
do something.
Parliament will react as it always does, namely by calling hearings and demanding that the civil servants explain why they have let this mess get out of control. And, of course, they’ll blame everyone involved because they weren’t let in on the secret in advance.”

Bartok drained his drink and looked first at Bendagar and then at Landon before continuing. “It is going to be a political zoo, gentlemen, and we are going to be in it up to our necks. We will be hosting visiting dignitaries aboard PoleStar so often that we won’t be able to get any work done ... if they let us continue at all.”

“Why would they stop us?”

“Control, Dr. Bendagar. Have you ever known a politician to give up control of
anything
? They will all want to ensure that we make them look good to the voters and science be damned. If they come to believe they can’t control us, then they will get rid of us and bring in those they can control.”

“Then we had best keep the lid on until we discover the truth of Sar-Say’s allegations ourselves.”

“Easier said than done. The circle of people who know at least some part of the secret is growing rapidly. It is only a matter of time before some newser gets wind of what is going on and puts it on the infonet. In fact, we have already had our first incident.”

“What happened?”

“Mikhail Vasloff happened.” Bartok went on to explain the surprise that had been awaiting Mark Rykand and Lisa Arden at the end of their tour of Gibraltar.

At the end of his explanation, Landon swore under his breath. “If the secret is that close to leaking, I think we had better advance our timetable.”

“Timetable to do what?” Bartok asked. The slurring of his speech indicated that he was beginning to feel the effects of the drinks that he had consumed.

“I’ve studied Raoul’s plan to go out and find this Zzumer. I propose we spend a month getting
Magellan
stocked for the expedition, then head out before the news breaks.”

“I am afraid that is impossible. Coordinator Halstrom has forbidden any more expeditions.”

“Why, for God’s sake?”

“The coordinator refuses to take even the tiniest risk that we will be discovered. Frankly, I agree with her.”

“A good policy, Mr. Director,” Bendagar said, “but hardly viable for the long term. Is the human race going to cower here in our own system for the next thousand years while we wonder whether there is truly an evil empire lurking out there among the stars? You know we do not think like that. Curiosity is built into our genes. Someone will be going out to look, and probably not too long after the news breaks.

So why shouldn’t it be us?”

“Raoul’s right,” Landon agreed. “How many would-be Columbus types will discount Sar-Say’s horror stories and go off in search of the riches to be had from a spacefaring civilization?”

“Parliament will forbid it.”

“When did that ever stop anyone when money was involved?”

Bartok looked skeptical.

“Look, boss, if even one-tenth of what Sar-Say says is true, we are going to have a serious decision to make. We dig a hole, crawl in, pull it in behind us, and hope they do not stumble across us - the Mikhail Vasloff approach - or else, we figure out some way to deal with the Broa. In either case, we do not dare remain ignorant. We
have
to go out and see what is out there. I say that we do it as quickly as we can, before events get away from us.”

Bartok frowned. “Let’s say we let you go, Dan. What will you do when you get there?”

“We will look the place over from a light-year out, then work our way closer in several stages. If it looks practical to do so, we will make contact and see if they’ve ever heard of this Broan Sovereignty of Sar-Say’s.”

“Don’t you think they will report you to the Broa the moment you arrive? After all, you will be a shipload of aliens no one has ever seen before.”

Landon shook his head. “According to Sar-Say, the Broan yoke is lightly held so long as no one revolts.

There are not enough Broa to keep their eyes on everything. They are lightly spread, usually keep to a central administrative world in any given sector, and generally leave their subjects alone so long as they pay their taxes on time. Hell, the stargates are not even manned! They are fully automated. You fly your ship up to one and jump to the next star in the chain.

“As for being reported, I doubt we would be. The Zzumer are amphibian octopoids to whom all land dwelling bipeds look alike. We will look just like a thousand other species they have seen. Beside, there are so many races in the sovereignty that no one can possibly know them all. If we claim to be from some far-off part of the Broan domain, especially if we speak the Broan patois that Lisa Arden is learning, then they will likely accept us at face value.”

“Does that seem reasonable to you, Doctor?”

“Why not? The Sovereignty is too big for the Broa to control everything that goes on there.”

Bartok looked stubborn. It was obvious that he was looking for a reason not to confront the World Coordinator. “Sorry, it won’t wash. You said yourself this morning that you think the Broa keep tight control over starship design and technology. The Zzumer may not recognize you as being from outside the Sovereignty, but you can be damned sure that they will recognize your ship as having come from a non-Broan shipyard.”

“We don’t know that,” Bendagar said. “Again, there must be considerable variation in ship design across the Sovereignty, so much so that it is likely no one knows all the forms their spacecraft may take. Even if they have standardized designs, there is a way we could lesson the risk of them recognizing a human ship for what it is.”

“How so?”

Raoul Bendagar drained his drink, and then began to speak rapidly. Both Bartok and Landon were curious as to what he had in mind. Their curiosity turned to amazement as the scientist outlined his idea for disguising the origin of a human expedition to Zzumer. By the time he finished, both of their brains had switched into overdrive.

Mark Rykand hovered in front of the viewport aboard
Mercanter’s Wind
and watched as the PoleStar habitat slowly expanded to fill his field of view. The mirror was out of sight somewhere behind them as the orbit-to-orbit ferry made its final approach.

“Credit for your thoughts,” Lisa said as she floated into the compartment, swarmed along the handholds, and came to rest with her arms around his waist and her softness fitted tightly against his back.

He smiled. “I was just thinking how much more civilized this is than the last time I saw this view.”

She continued hugging him for long seconds. “That was a damnfool stunt, Mark Rykand!” she said with mock severity. “You could have killed yourself.”

“I didn’t. And if I hadn’t taken the chance, I would never have met you.”

“I suppose not,” she sighed. They drifted that way for long seconds until the hooting of the acceleration alarm drove them apart and toward separate handholds.

As in all of the ferry’s maneuvers, they need not have bothered. There was a sudden tug of perhaps one-twentieth gravity for a few seconds, followed almost immediately by a series of clanging sounds as the
Wind
mated her dorsal airlock to one of those on the habitat. The two lovers leisurely collected their bags from where they had stowed them, then swam in the direction of the debarkation lock. Mikhail Vasloff had arrived there a few seconds before them.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Vasloff?” Lisa asked, grinning. The great man had been spacesick almost from the moment they had made orbit out of Sahara Spaceport some thirty hours earlier.

“I’ll live,” came the weak reply.

Mark waited until the white-haired Russian’s back was turned before winking at Lisa. He wondered if Vasloff’s inherent bias against space travel was simply the result of his weak stomach.