McCollum - GIBRALTAR STARS (48 page)

Lisa was startled from her concentration by a
beep
in her ear. She turned her head to see Mark’s smiling features staring out of a screen at her. From the out-of-focus background, he was on the bridge.

“A deci-credit for your thoughts, my love.”

“I was just thinking that someone promised to come to bed early last night, but didn’t make it until mid-watch. What were you doing?”

“What else? Plotting against the Broa. Susan Ahrendt and her crew were doing a final checkout of our cargo and I had to play the unflappable captain on the bridge while they tracked down a glitch in the power system. I was too keyed up to sleep anyway.”

Lisa arched an eyebrow.  “Susan kept you up all night?  The Admiral warned me about that back at Brinks.”

Ignoring her jibe, Mark asked, “Are you ready for your big performance?”

“As ready as I will ever be. I’ve been eavesdropping. Where are we?”

“Just coming up on one light-minute out. They’re lighting us up with everything they can project, so they know we are coming.”

Lisa nodded. “That’s what I have been listening to. They’re worried we’re going to bombard them, but they haven’t anything that can reach us.  What about the sled?”

“Hooked up to the launch track in Cargo Bay Two. We’ll launch as soon as you give the word.”

“How long do I have before I go on?”

“Fifteen minutes. We’ve got the high gain antenna erected so we’ll be able to overpower just about everyone else in the system.”

“All right. Give me time to get myself composed.”

“Take all you need. This is the first time anyone’s tried this. We’ll start recording in ten minutes. Try not to swear. The scientists at Strategies and Intentions might be offended.”

Lisa responded with a well-chosen word not intended for posterity.

Mark blew her a kiss and signed off. Having been married for most of a decade, he knew when his wife was frightened. In this case, it was stage fright. If she flubbed her lines, the entire human race would be witness to it for as long as the race existed.

#

Fifteen minutes later, Lisa keyed her microphone, and in her best Broan trade language, said:

“Klys’kra’t Space Control. This is Terrestrial Space Navy Ship
Xavier del Bac.
Please respond.”

She waited two minutes to give the signal time to get to the half-lighted crescent on the screen. When there was no answer, she issued the message again. She had barely finished when her screen lit up to show an alien countenance.

For reasons both scientific and mysterious, most intelligent beings are bipeds. Form follows function in nature, and evolution always selects for the minimum structure that will serve a given purpose.

The being that stared out at her was not a biped. In fact, it looked a little like a squid on a fence post. Its reptilian skin gave a hint to its aquatic origins, while a bullet-shaped head supported a crown of six orbs the thing used to see. Six tentacles erupted from about where its neck should have been. Lisa was unable to see the three legs on which it supported itself. She didn’t need to. She had been here before. The sight of a Voldar’ik, an inhabitant of the water world of Klys’kra’t, was old news.

This was the system where humanity first met aliens other than Sar-Say.

“What ship and what business?”
a mechanically-generated voice asked in perfect trade Broan. The being, who lacked a face, and thus, a facial expression, sat motionless waiting for a reply across a two-minute round trip through space.

“We are a warship of the Terrestrial Space Navy. We are the sworn enemy of the Broa and are here to free you from their bondage. To that end, we destroyed your stargate. I wish to speak to your planetary leaders. Put me through immediately.”

It would have been more dramatic if the Voldar’ik, upon hearing her ultimatum, reacted in surprise, or shock, or possibly, broken out laughing. It did none of these. For ten long minutes, it sat centered in the viewscreen, acting like the fence post it resembled.

At the end of that time, the screen changed to show three of the Voldar’ik standing in a cluster. The beings were not equipped to sit.

“We are the current planetary authorities. What is it that you want?”

Lisa went through her spiel once more. She finished with, “We want to help you win free of the Broa.”

“What insanity is this?”
The actual words were
brain… malfunction… identify!
, but the linguistic computer was good enough to render the demand idiomatically.

“We are neither insane nor unintelligent. The Broa have used the stargates to keep you prisoner for far too long. We intend to free you if you will allow us.”

This time when the answer came back, it was a simple interrogative.
“How?”

We have a technology that bypasses stargates. Our ships fly where they will, with no need to ask permission of anyone. We will share this technology with you if you will agree to join our war against the Broa.”

“How will you share this device?”

“We are carrying four working devices aboard this ship. They can be installed in your own ships to drive them faster than light. We also provide complete information concerning the technology to allow you to build more of the devices. No stargates are required. Will you accept this gift?

“What is your price in value for this gift?”

“I told you. We ask that you join us in our fight for your freedom.”

There was a long pause again, longer than the communications delay warranted. Finally, one of the Voldar’ik said,
“If you wish to give us a gift, we will accept.”

“Damned diplomat,” Lisa muttered under her breath in Standard. To the screen she said (in Broan): “Very well. We ask that you aid us in destroying their stargates. You don’t have to, of course. However, consider that by accepting our gift, you are automatically making yourselves enemies of the Broa.”

Two minutes went by.
“We understand.”

“The gift will come to you. Do not be afraid. It will swing wide of your planet and take up orbit ten diameters in front of your world. You may inspect the gift and retrieve it when you have confirmed it is safe.”

Lisa switched her comm to Engineering. Susan Ahrendt appeared on her screen.

“Is the sled ready to go?”

Her query was answered by a lopsided smile that relayed far more than the ex-Trojan Horse payload specialist’s words.

“Ready to launch, Lisa.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Susan?”

“More than the last time, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, I’ll tell the Captain we’re ready.  Stand by.”

Ten minutes later, a sled with four shipping containers containing stardrive generators launched. An orbit-to-orbit transfer engine came alive and began steering the cargo toward Klys’kra’t.

#

Dos-Val was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of the communicator tone. Groping for the instrument, he held it up to his snout to discover the angry visage of the Prime Councilor.

“Yes, Councilor, how may I help you?”

“The stargates have been destroyed!” Zel-Sen said without preamble.

“Destroyed? How?”

“How do you think?”

“The bipeds’ weapon.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“The same. The reports were staggered as they came in, but it turns out that was merely speed-of-light delay. So far as we can determine, they were each destroyed in the same heart beat.”

Dos-Val’s mind raced. The home world was the best defended planet in Civilization. All around Faalta, asteroids had been hollowed out over a great-gross of cycles to serve as armored fortresses.  Sensor nets ringed the star out to beyond the orbit of the outermost world. The approaches to Faalta were through three other star systems, a fact that appeared in no database available to subservients. Each of the gateway systems was militarized nearly as much as the home star.

The defenses that had been built at such a great cost were not designed to defend against an attack by subservients. Such a thing was unthinkable. Rather, they had been erected as a bulwark against civil war should clan tensions ever cause a rupture of Civilization. Any dissident faction who attacked via stargate or single-ended jump would find themselves suddenly in the midst of a swarm of enraged pelen.

How could the bipeds have gotten close enough to destroy the stargates without being detected? Whatever magic they had performed had rendered the whole of Civilization defenseless. The thought no more occurred to him than it was pushed aside by an even more frightening one.

Ssasfal isolated without stargates? How would they live? The freighters would stop bringing in food and all manner of goods required to keep Valar alive.

An ancient fear suddenly formed. Although Ssasfal was home to the Race, there were more servants on the planet than Broa. Many of the subservients were carnivorous. When the food ran low, would they find another source of nourishment, much as the mawmouths and other beasts of the jungle floor once fed on his ancestors?

“What are we to do, Councilor?” he stammered as the last of sleep was banished into the darkness.

“You are the philosopher. You tell me. What of the Institute’s experiment with coordinate transformation?”

“The prototype engine is complete and undergoing final test. Gor-Dek plans to send the ship in which he installed the generator to the edge of the system for the first flight experiment within a demicycle.”

“He must do that tomorrow. I have ordered the replacement gates lofted immediately to regain communication.”

“How long will that take?”

“Twelve rotations. I am not sure how long those gates will last.”

“Do you think the bipeds are still lurking in the system?”

“What would you do in their place?”

Dos-Val thought about it. It made sense. Their tactic was to isolate Ssasfal and probably every other capital in Civilization. With Those Who Rule incommunicado, there would be no one to organize a proper defense.

“How fast can Gor-Dek build more of these infernal engines?”

“Councilor?”

“If we cannot reestablish our stargate links to our gateway systems, we are going to need coordinate transformation ships to issue orders. How fast can the Institute produce the engines to install in existing craft?”

“I don’t think they can. They have the knowledge, but all of the parts are imported from manufacturing worlds. The time required to obtain components is the reason it has taken so long to build the prototype. With the gates destroyed, we are cut off from our sources of supply.”

“There must be something we can do,” Zel-Sen shouted.

“I agree, Councilor,” Dos-Val said, attempting to mollify him. “I just don’t know what at the moment.”

“Get all of your people awake and at the Ministry. I will be there at Faalta-rise after I coordinate the naval response. We must find some way to counter this tactic. The very existence of the Race depends on it.”

“Yes, Councilor. Your orders will be obeyed.”

The communicator went dead. Dos-Val rotated himself to a sitting position and did not move further. His mind was racing furiously. There had to be a way out of this predicament… didn’t there?

As he rose from his sleeping mat, the most frightening thought of all occurred to him:

What if there wasn’t? Was this the end of Civilization?

#

Chapter Forty-Nine

Xavier
’s normal space engines produced a quiet humming sound at the lower edge of hearing as the ship accelerated toward the edge of the Klys’kra’t system and the critical limit. It was “night” and the captain and his mate lay together on their too narrow bed, the sheen of perspiration on their bodies slowly drying in the deliciously cool breeze from the ventilators. Mark lay on his back, looking up at the blue nightlights in the overhead, while Lisa lay on her stomach, cuddled in the crook of his left arm.

After a long silence, she said, “There are some things you really need gravity for, aren’t there?” Her words were slurred by the fact that her lips were pressed against his pectoral muscles. The vibration caused a delicious stirring in his loins.

He smiled. “There are indeed, my love. I’d forgotten how good love at standard gravs can be.”

After a long pause, she asked, “What do you think, Mark? Will they actually join us?”

“The Voldar’ik? It’s possible, even probable. They certainly snapped up the sled fast enough.”

After ejecting the cargo, they remained in contact with the Voldar’ik for a full day as
Xavier
passed perigee and began heading once more for the deep black.

They tracked the orbital sled and its cargo to its parking place some ten planetary diameters forward of Klys’kra’t. A Voldar’ik ship arrived six hours later to look it over. The ensuing inspection reminded Mark of the sort performed by suspicious customs inspectors on passengers returning from drug hot spots.

A single Voldar’ik in an odd-looking vacuum suit emerged from the ship’s airlock and jetted across the intervening vacuum to the sled. He poked, prodded and pointed various instruments at the shipping containers. Satisfied that they weren’t about to explode, he studied how the cover latches worked and released them to reveal the stardrive generator inside. It was a production unit sized for Type Seven Freighters and was direct from the factory. In addition to its operating software, the onboard computer contained a vast library of technical information in Broan script. It should have been labeled, “How to Build and Operate a Stardrive.”

Seemingly satisfied, the spacer replaced the cover, snapped the latches back into place, and used his suit jets to guide the sled toward his ship’s airlock. They got a brief look inside the ship before the signal from their on-sled cameras went dead as he closed the hatch.

“What if they take the generators and don’t lift a tentacle to help?” Lisa asked.

Mark shrugged, a gesture that she felt rather than saw. “It’s possible. However, merely accepting those generators makes them mortal enemies of the Broa. In Broan eyes, we’re the Serpent in the Garden, and the Voldar’ik just took a big bite out of the apple. Having eaten the forbidden fruit, the Broa will have no choice but to destroy them. The Voldar’ik must surely know this.  If they are destined for extermination, wouldn’t they rather go down fighting?”