Ride the Star Winds (97 page)

“The antenna of a Carlotti beacon or transceiver,” replied Haab after a moment’s thought. “But circular, instead of elliptical—that’s what I thought when I saw the stills that the Survey Service passed on to the Foundation. It’s more obvious when you see the things in motion.”

“In other words,” said Grimes, “a Moebius Strip. But watch.”

The voice of the commentator came up again. “
Rim Culverin
dispatched a drone to make a closer investigation—”

There was a shot of the little craft—a spaceship in miniature, bristling with a complex array of scanners and antennae—pulling out and clear from the parent ship.
Rim Carronade
’s camera tracked her until she was too distant for details to be distinguished. Then this picture was replaced by the one seen by the probe’s electronic eyes. The small unmanned craft was making a close approach to one of the whirling rings of light. The enigmatic thing was almost featureless, although flecks of greater luminosity on its surface were indicative of its rotation. It was a Moebius Strip made from a wide, radiant ribbon. It flared and dimmed like an isophase beacon with a period synchronized with that of its revolution. It could have been a machine—yet it gave the impression that it was alive. It filled the screen, spinning, pulsing—and then there was blackness.

The commentator said in a matter-of-fact voice, “The drone went dead. It had not been destroyed, however. Powerful telescopes and radar aboard both ships could still pick it up. But it was obvious that all its electronic equipment had suddenly ceased to function.

“It was obvious, too, that the cluster of mysterious entities was approaching the frigates at high velocity. Captain Laverton, aboard
Rim Carronade
, ordered a withdrawal from the scene.
Rim Carronade
and
Rim Culverin
proceeded west, first at normal cruising speed, then increasing to maximum inertial drive acceleration. But the hostile beings steadily decreased the range.
Rim Carronade
and
Rim Culverin
were obliged to open fire with their stern-mounted laser cannon—”

II

The screen showed
the false star cluster again, but its individual components were no longer dancing about each other, maintaining a globular formation—they were holding a steady trajectory. They were no longer alternating between light and darkness. Every now and again they would flare into increased brilliance, which did not diminish.

“Realizing that laser was an encouragement rather than a deterrent,” the commentator went on, “Captain Laverton decided to take evasive action and ordered the starting of the Mannschenn Drive units aboard his ship and
Rim Culverin
, reasoning that once the frigates were out of synchronization with normal Space-Time the hostile entities would be unable to press home their attack. At first it seemed that these tactics would be successful, but after a lapse of no more than fifteen seconds the things reappeared at even closer range than before, obviously matching temporal precession rates. Captain Laverton returned to normal Space-Time briefly—and in the few seconds before he restarted his Mannschenn Drive, just as the entities reappeared off
Rim
Carronade
’s quarter, launched a torpedo with a fission warhead fused for almost instant detonation. This defensive action was successful.”

The screen displayed a fireball of incandescent plasma, expanding and thinning, the obvious aftermath of an atomic explosion in deep space. Through the cloud of glowing gases could be seen only a mere half-dozen of the entities—earlier there had been at least fifty of the things.

“Returning to NST, Captain Laverton observed that the majority of the creatures had been destroyed and that the few survivors were sluggish and—he thought erroneously—badly injured. Two were dispatched by laser fire. The remaining four retreated rapidly, eluding the frigates.

“The first phase of Operation Rimhunt was over.”

“The next spool, sir?” asked Miss Walton.

“Not just yet, if you don’t mind,” replied Haab. Then, “I beg your pardon, Commodore. But I’d like to talk about what we’ve just seen first.”

“Talk away, Captain.” Grimes refilled and lit his pipe. “Talk away.”

“As you know, Commodore, I’ve seen the stills and read the reports that your navy passed on to the Federation Survey Service, that the Survey Service, in its turn, passed on to the Foundation. I was present at most of the conferences of the Foundation’s boffins. I didn’t understand all they were saying, but I caught the general drift. The energy eaters, as they dubbed them, are just that. Their peculiar Moebius Strip configuration ensures that their entire surface is exposed to any source of radiation. According to
our
mathematicians they must be susceptible to magnetic fields—so the cage that our people are designing should work. The creatures are also susceptible to beamed Carlotti transmissions, which could be used to prevent a caged entity from escaping by desynchronizing with normal Space-Time.”

Grimes grunted affirmatively.

“And as we have just seen—they can be killed. Killed by kindness.” Haab chuckled dryly. “Throw the energy of a nuclear blast on to their plates and they’re like a compulsive eater digging his grave with a knife and fork.”

“Mphm.”

“But
I
don’t want to kill them. I want to capture one, or more than one, to take back to Earth. I want to save a specimen of this unique life form, probably not a native of this Galaxy, before the species is hunted to extinction.”

“Then you had better get cracking,” Grimes told him without much sympathy. To him a menace to navigation was just that. “At last report there’s probably only one of the things left.”

“Moebius Dick,” murmured Haab.

They watched the remainder of the films of Operation Rimhunt, which could as well have been called Operation Search and Destroy. The use of fission weapons, stumbled upon by Captain Laverton, remained effective, but it had to be improved upon. The energy eaters were intelligent—just how intelligent no one knew, probably no one ever would know. After the almost complete wiping out of that first cluster they tended to run from the Confederacy’s warships. Magnetic fields, set up by two or more vessels, were an invisible net from which not all of the entities escaped—and those that did so made their getaway by desynchronization. Time-Space twisting Carlotti beams were employed by the hunters and this technique seemed to inhibit temporal precession.

“Butchers,” muttered Haab at last. “Butchers.”

“Exterminators,” corrected Grimes. “But both butchers and exterminators are essential to civilization. What about all the animals have killed in your profession? Can you afford to talk?”

“I can, Commodore. In the first place, I’ve gone after living specimens far more than I have dead ones. In the second place, the odds have never been stacked against the quarry in my hunts—as they have been in this operation of yours.”

Grimes grunted. “I’m not a hunter. If I really wanted a dinner of grilled trout I’d be quite capable of tossing a hand grenade into the stream. If I have an infestation of rats or mice I go out and buy the most effective poison on the market.”

“I seem to recall,” said Haab, “that you once used a fusion bomb to destroy a rat-infested ship.”

“Yes. I did. It was necessary.”

“Necessity,” murmured Haab, “what sins are committed in thy name? But let’s agree to shelve our differences. Do you think I could see the charts of sightings and—ah—victorious naval actions?”

“Let’s have them, please, Miss Walton,” said Grimes.

* * *

Grimes later entertained Haab in his home. After the captain had returned to his ship Grimes’s wife, Sonya, said, “So that’s the great hunter.”

“I hope you were impressed,” said Grimes.

“Impressed? Oh, I suppose I was in a way. But the man’s a monomaniac. Hunting is his whole life.”

“But you can say in his favor that he’s more concerned with capturing than killing.”

“Is that so much better?” she demanded. “Have you ever seen the Hummel Foundation’s zoo?”

Grimes had seen it many years ago when he had been a very junior officer in the Survey Service. He had thought at the time that those animals from Earth-type planets had been comparatively lucky, they had been allowed a limited freedom in the open air. The beings from worlds utterly unlike Earth had been confined in transparent domes, inside which the conditions of their natural habitats had been faithfully reproduced in all respects but one—room to run, fly or slither.

He said, “I think I know what you mean.”

“I should hope you do,” she replied. “I’d sooner be dead than in a cage.”

“Haab’s only doing his job.”

“But he needn’t enjoy it so much.”

“Are we so much better?” he queried. “Here are these creatures, drifting in from the Odd Gods of the Galaxy know where. They may be intelligent—but have we tried to find out? Oh, no—not us. All we did find out is how to destroy them.”

“Don’t come over all virtuous, John. You were the first to start screaming about menaces to navigation on the Lorn-Llanith route. Now your precious lightjammers can come and go as they please. And that’s what you wanted.”

The following morning he received a call from Admiral Kravitz. “I’m putting you back on the active list, Grimes.”

“Again, sir? My paperwork piled up when I made the voyage in
Pamir
and I’m still trying to shovel my way through the worst of the drifts.”

“I want one of our people along in
New Bedford
as an observer. You are the obvious choice for the assignment.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you? You were keen enough to make a voyage in
Pamir
when it suited you. Now you can make a voyage in Haab’s ship when it suits me.”

“Does Captain Haab know I’ll be along?”

“He has been told that he will have to have a representative of our navy aboard when he lifts from Port Forlorn. He has only one spare cabin in his ship—a dogbox—so you’ll not be able to have Sonya along. Still, it should be an interesting trip.”

“I hope so,” said Grimes.

“With you among those present, it will be.” The admiral chuckled. “But I have to ring off. I’ll leave you to fix everything up with Haab. Let me know later what’s been arranged. Over and out.”

Grimes rose from his desk. “Miss Walton,” he said to his secretary, “I shall be aboard
New Bedford
if anybody wants me. Meanwhile, you can call Captain Macindoe at his home—he’s due back from leave, as you know—and ask him to come in to see me after lunch. He’ll be acting superintendent in my absence.”

“Not B—Not Commander Williams again?” asked the girl disappointedly.

“No. Billy Williams, as you almost called him, is better at looking after his precious
Rim Malemute
than keeping my chair warm. What the pair of you were doing when I was away in
Pamir
and on Llanith I hate to think.”

He grinned, then made his way out of the office.

He looked with fresh interest at
New Bedford
as he walked briskly across the apron. His earlier curiosity about her had been academic rather than otherwise, but now that he would be shipping out in her he was beginning to feel almost a proprietorial concern.

He stared up at the dully gleaming tower that was her hull, at the sponsons and turrets that housed her weaponry, at the antennae indicative of sophisticated electronic equipment of a nature usually found only in warships and survey ships. But she was both, of course. Her normal employment could be classed as warfare of a sort and as survey work—also of a sort.

Grimes marched up the ramp to the after airlock. His way into the compartment was barred by an officer who asked curtly, “Your business, sir?”

Grimes’s prominent ears started to redden. Surely everybody in Port Forlorn knew who he was. But this ship, of course, was not a regular visitor and her personnel were not Rim worlders.

He said gruffly, “Commodore Grimes to see Captain Haab.”

The young man went to a telephone. “Fourth mate here, Captain. A Commodore Grimes to see you . . . Yes, sir. Right away.” Then to Grimes, “Follow me, sir.”

The elevator carried them swiftly up the axial shaft. Haab’s quarters were just below and abaft the control room. The master rose from his desk as Grimes was ushered into his day cabin. “Welcome aboard, Commodore. Thank you, Mr. Timon, you may carry on.” When the officer had left Haab asked, “And what can I do for you, Commodore Grimes?”

“I believe, Captain, that you’ve already heard from our admiralty.”

“Indeed I have. They’re insisting that I carry some snot-nosed ensign or junior lieutenant with me as an observer—”

“Not an ensign or a lieutenant, Captain.”

“Who, then?”

Grimes grinned. “Me.”

Haab did not grin in return. “But you’re not—”

“But I am. I’m a reserve officer back on the active list as and from this morning.”

“Oh?” Haab managed a frosty smile. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of accommodation, Commodore. This is a working ship. There’s a spare cabin the mate has been using as a storeroom—he’s getting it cleaned out now.”

“As long as there’s a bunk—”

“There is—but not much else.” Haab’s grin was a little warmer. “But I am neglecting my duties as a host.” He walked to the little bar that stood against the bulkhead under the mounted head of some horrendously horned and tusked beast Grimes could not identify. “Perhaps you will join me in a sip of
mayrenrolh
?”

“It will be my pleasure.” Haab filled small glasses with viscous, dark-brown fluid and Grimes accepted his, raised it. “Your very good health, sir.”

“And yours, Commodore.”

The drink was potent, although Grimes did not much care for its flavor. He said, “This is an unusual—ah—spirit.”

“Yes. I laid in a supply when I was on Pinkenbah. The natives ferment it from the blood of the
mayren
, a big, carnivorous lizard.”

“Fascinating,” said Grimes, swallowing manfully. “I suppose your ship is well-stocked with all manner of foods and drinks.”

“She is,” Haab told him.

III

New Bedford
lifted from Port Forlorn on a cold, drizzly morning, driving into and through the gray overcast. Grimes was a guest in her control room and, he was made to feel, a very unwelcome guest. Haab was coldly courteous, but his officers managed to convey the impression that they resented the presence of the outsider and were demanding silently of each other.
What is this old bastard doing here?