Strider's Galaxy (21 page)

"As Pinocchio said," Strauss-Giolitto interposed tartly.

"As indeed your friend did say," agreed Feefaar with a shimmer of her wings. She touched her claws together in a gesture which Strauss-Giolitto this time interpreted as a signal of apology. "But we are better even than the Images at such matters."

THIS IS TRUE,
Ten Per Cent Extra Free confirmed.

"It is probable that we can gain yet more data than you"—Feefaar indicated Pinocchio—"were able to immediately after your Main Computer's death. We would like to send one of us back with you to the
Santa Maria
to investigate."

Pinocchio looked at Strauss-Giolitto as if to ask her what he should do. She nodded to him that the decision was his.

"This seems permissible," he said. "There is room for an extra person in our shuttle."

"Then let us proceed with what we have to do here," said Nerita. "Afterwards Polyaggle will accompany you to your starship."

"There is one other thing of which you should be aware," added Feefaar. "If you are fortunate, Polyaggle may dredge enough information out of your Main Computer to be able to deduce a route back to your own stellar system."

"To Mars?"

"If that is what your home world is called, yes."

#

Among many species it would have been regarded as an inappropriate moment for a conversation, but the Antracvhans were not coy. The Autarch was in the process of both copulating with and gashing to death one of his less favorite concubines; in the midst of the former he had begun to suspect that she was faking her enjoyment of his efforts—hence the latter. The floor shook. She was taking a long time to die—Antracvhans are a tough species, and can sustain considerable physiological damage before the injuries become fatal—so the Autarch saw no good reason to discontinue his ponderous pleasure, even when he was informed that Kaantalech wished to holo with him.

Kaantalech watched with interest for a few moments before speaking.

"My officers have tracked down the Humans, Stars' Elect," she said. "Their protoplasm is so different from ours that it virtually glows on our screens. The delay has been because we have had to search all the quadrants." Had the Autarch been of her species he would have known that her mouth was brimming with glee. Luckily he wasn't, or he might have started wondering just what it was that was making her so gleeful. The successful search done by her aides had made her realize quite how potentially powerful she was.

"Where are they?" he said, not looking up. More gore splattered the walls. The concubine's slow brain began to realize that the process was hurting more than usual, and she let out a squeal of discomfort.

"They're on one of the moons of Spindrift," said Kaantalech. She could hardly believe what was going on. She knew that the females in Nalla's entourage were bred for stupidity—because an even remotely clever concubine is a dangerous concubine—but this particular specimen appeared to be no more than living meat. Kaantalech wondered if the Autarch's paranoia had increased to such a peak that he was having massive brain surgery performed on his females before they were allowed to approach him. If so, it couldn't be long before the same injunction started applying to courtiers, and then lieutenants . . . Kaantalech was glad she could communicate with the Autarch by holo, rather than having to go to Qitanefermeartha in person.

"Never heard of the place," grunted the Autarch.

"It's well off all the trade routes," said Kaantalech, "and it has little to offer us. We investigated it several times for natural resources or slaves, but there were hardly any of either."

"Why did the Humans go there?"

It was an unusually intelligent question from the Autarch, and it was one that Kaantalech cursed herself for not having thought through beforehand.

"Perhaps because of the planet's very remoteness and mediocrity," she said. That must be it.

"I distrust remote, mediocre planets," said the Autarch. This was true enough. He distrusted
all
planets. "Maybe they had some other reason for going there."

"I can't imagine why they . . ."

"I wasn't asking for an opinion. Torch it. Torch the Humans as well—we've done without their technology for thousands of years, so what makes you think we need it now?"

There was no point in arguing with the Autarch when he was in this kind of mood.

"Yes, Stars' Elect," said Kaantalech humbly, and prepared to disconnect holo contact.

The full force of the pain of what was being inflicted on her was now reaching the concubine's brain, and she was screaming in a most pleasing fashion. Kaantalech wished she could continue watching for a while, but she knew that she had been dismissed.

Regretfully, she disconnected.

#

Strauss-Giolitto was annoyed with herself about it, but she had experienced a certain vindictive delight while Polyaggle was going through the
Santa Maria
's decontamination systems. It didn't matter that she was having to undergo the same procedure herself—there seemed to be so little of her left to decontaminate—and it didn't matter that the humans' decontamination was significantly less rigorous and therefore significantly less humiliating than the Spindrifters' had been: Strauss-Giolitto still felt a poignant sense of revenge at the thought of Polyaggle's discomfort.

Which was very petty of her—hence her annoyance.

She was even more annoyed when the Spindrifter emerged from decontamination seemingly quite unperturbed.

Strider was waiting for the alien alongside Strauss-Giolitto and Pinocchio, who had cleared decontamination much more quickly.

God, but it was good to be back in a jumpsuit again—although her baldness still felt bizarre. She kept catching herself twitching her head to flick her hair out of her eyes and then realizing there wasn't any hair there to flick. Back on Mars she'd have had a medbot give her a quick transplant; the medbots on board the
Santa Maria
weren't designed for cosmetic repairs.

The first meeting between Strider and Polyaggle was interesting to watch. Because Pinocchio's synthetic skin was pale and because Strauss-Giolitto had been born that way, Polyaggle—whose reactions Strauss-Giolitto was beginning to be able crudely to interpret—was obviously startled to find herself being greeted by a black human being. Color variations among the Spindrifters were largely confined to the wings, Strauss-Giolitto had noticed: the bristles that covered their bodies differed little from one individual to another. Polyaggle clearly thought at first that Strider was of some different species—and was deeply suspicious, because Pinocchio had told the Spindrifters that, aside from the Images, there was only one sentient species on the
Santa Maria
. When Lan Yi appeared a moment afterwards, apologizing for his lateness as if he were attending an office discussion rather than encountering a delegate from an alien species for the first time, Polyaggle's confusion grew.

And then at last the Spindrifter cottoned on.

Strider extended a hand. "You're welcome," she said. "Touching hands is a form of greeting among our kind."

Somewhat timorously, it seemed, Polyaggle put out a claw and tapped Strider's fingertips lightly. Of course, she would still be worried about contagion. Presumably she would have preferred to remain suited up, but by now her suit was ashes.

The Spindrifter fluttered her wings briefly. "That is a greeting from my species to yours," she said.

"Would you like food?" said Strider.

Polyaggle didn't answer, but shut her eyes. What was there on this offworlder spacecraft that might be safe for her to eat? Her biochemistry was obviously entirely different from the human one.

"I brought an Image with me, as you must know," she said at length. "He has conferred with your Images here and they have devised a list of items which it is possible for me to eat without harm. I will join you for a meal of basic processed soya, if I may."

And I'll bet Strider tucks into the same beside her,
thought Strauss-Giolitto. Processed soya was the hard tack on which many meals were based; one of the skills of cookbots was in blending flavors and sauces so that you could no longer taste the soya.

"Perhaps with a little pure water," added Polyaggle.

"It shall be arranged," said Strider. She nodded to Lan Yi, who spoke briefly into his commline.

"Please join us for dinner," said Strider to the other three. With a smile.

Only Pinocchio returned it.

#

"Our Images linked up so that I was able to monitor almost everything that went on during the while my people were with you, except for the time you were in your stronghold in the icecap," said Strider.
And except for that bloody half-hour,
she thought viciously.
I'll find out more about that if I have to pull Pinocchio apart chip by chip.

They were seated round the table in Strider's cabin. It was just the right height for her and Lan Yi, but substantially too low for Strauss-Giolitto. Polyaggle had elected to remain standing. A bot would be arriving soon with their dinner. Strider grinned to herself. Lan Yi was remaining as taciturn as ever, but it was easy to read from Strauss-Giolitto's face that the woman was hoping the bot would take a very long time in coming.

"I know of the agreement you came to with Pinocchio," continued Strider, "and I approve of it. After we've eaten, allow me to show you round the
Santa Maria
and introduce you to a few people. If you're tired, we have some spare cabins—you are certainly welcome to claim one as your own . . ."

"I want to stay aboard this ship for as short a time as possible," said Polyaggle.

"Our friend is quite reasonably concerned about bacterial or viral infection," explained Pinocchio. "There is no discourtesy intended."

"Thank you, Pinocchio," said Strider. "I had gathered as much for myself."
And that was a silly put-down,
she thought.
I wish I could get rid of my anger.

A klaxon screamed.

"Uh oh," said Strider, leaping from her chair. She felt the hairs all up the back of her spine rise. "Emergency. Forgive me."

She was through the door and into the nearest elevator shaft before she gave herself time to think. Pinocchio was hard behind her.

"Any idea what's going on?" she said breathlessly as the elevator hissed them towards the command deck.

"No."

"Are there any Images nearby?"

"No, not even Polyaggle's. He has gone to the deck already to work with the others. They clearly think this is not something minor." Even the bot was looking apprehensive.

Strider beat with her fist against the elevator's plastite wall. "Come on, damn you! Come on!"

It stopped abruptly, and for a lunatic moment Strider thought she might have broken it.

Leander, who had been on agricultural duties, boarded alongside them.

"What the—?" she began.

"Dunno," said Strider bluntly. "Better be good. I was just about to have my dinner."

A few seconds later they were on the command deck. All of the Pockets were glowing brightly except the two at either end.

"It's only just happened," said Nelson, looking up from one of them. His face was aghast. "It's like your worst fucking nightmare, light of my life."

"Let me see," said Strider, running to the Pocket next to the big man.

"Oh, shit," she breathed. It
was
a nightmare. At first glance it seemed as if the number of bright stars in the sky had doubled. Then you realized that half of them were starships.

THE AUTARCHY'S COME TO SAY HELLO,
said Ten Per Cent Extra Free wryly in her mind.

"Any idea why they're here?" she barked to the Image.

US, I SHOULD IMAGINE. THE
SANTA MARIA
, I MEAN.

"Tell Polyaggle I want her here—she knows more about these bastards than I do. Where's O'Sondheim?"

"Here," the First Officer said beside her.

"Images, how many of those goddam starships are there?"

THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO,
said a voice she didn't recognize. That must be the Spindrifter's Image.

"Is there anything we can hit them with that could do them any harm?" For the first time in days, Strider felt completely calm. She was giving the orders again: for a time it had seemed that command of her ship was slipping away from her.

We could damage—even destroy—a few of them, but there would still be hundreds of others.

"Can we get away quick?"

THEY HAVE THE TACHYONIC DRIVE AS WELL. HOW DO YOU THINK THEY GOT HERE SO FAST? WE COULD LOSE A FEW OF THEM, BUT
—Strider felt something that she assumed was the mental equivalent of a shrug—
AGAIN THERE WOULD BE HUNDREDS OF OTHERS.

"Then what in hell
can
we do?"

WAIT AND SEE,
said the Image philosophically.

"Is Ten Per Cent Extra Free there? Or Nightmirror? Or Heartfire?"

THEY ARE DOING OTHER THINGS.

"Great," said Strider, turning to Nelson. "We seem to have got ourselves a fatalistic Image."

"I'm feeling pretty fatalistic myself," he said. His attempt at casualness was unconvincing. He looked like a man who was staring into the jaws of death—which was more or less what he
was
doing. "Umbel almighty, but will you
look
at that?"

"I just have," said Strider harshly. "Get your brain together, Nelson. We need it."

She stepped away from the Pocket and glanced around.

"Anyone else got any good ideas?" she snapped.

They shook their heads at her—all except Pinocchio, who was looking thoughtful.

"They wouldn't send a fleet that size against just a single vessel," he said. "All they'd need to overwhelm us would be half a dozen—maybe twice as many if they wanted to capture us. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Keep bad feelings to yourself right now," she said. She gestured towards the Pocket behind her. "There are three hundred and seventy-two bad feelings hanging out there in space at the moment."

"Please . . ." began Pinocchio.