STAR HOUNDS -- OMNIBUS (40 page)

He thought of putting an arm around Chivon Lasster and guiding her to the lift, but her spine was as stiff as a board. He decided that discretion here was certainly the better part of valor.

G
eneral George Armstrong Custer served them their drinks.

Chivon Lasster took her sparkle whiskey and ice in a tall glass, nonplussed by the creature holding the tray.

“An affectation of our eccentric host,” Captain Northern explained as he accepted his bottle of brandy and snifter glass from the long-haired and mustachioed robot in fringed cowhide. “All the pirate and servant robots on the
Starbow
are data mockups of famous Old Earth generals.” He poured a healthy dollop from the bottle and drank with obvious satisfaction, and relief.

“But … why?” asked Chivon, her facade of hardness cracking somewhat with her bemusement. Mish answered that one. “Since my reawakening, I have been fascinated with the history of Earth, particularly in the colorful characters who have made their marks. When it became my lot to travel the starways of humanity—a vessel full of pirates, rebels, and mercenaries—I thought it would be humorous to have my robot compatriots be of more interesting background than the ragtag bunch that Captain Northern has managed to shanghai.”

All the crewmen on the bridge laughed.

They were a strange bunch indeed, the people sitting around this bridge. Even the bridge itself, its posts and controls previously familiar to her, now seemed quite different.

They were seated at a cluster of chairs in the back of the bridge, near the first aid and coffee station; certainly not the sort of thing one found in Federation Navy vessels. In fact, the entire atmosphere of the ship seemed markedly informal and friendly.

But these were a bloodthirsty pack of star hounds.

Captain Northern had given the deck crew a breezy introduction to her. “This is Chivon Lasster, folks. I think you’ve heard me mention her once or twice. She’s come over to our side and I’m sure you’ll be interested to know why. Chivon, you’ll get to know each of our crew in good time, I’m sure. If I give you their names now, you’ll just forget. Besides, I need a drink first.” And that had been that.

“I assume, Captain,” said a nervous-looking little man in the navigation chair, “that we’ll be waiting for Laura.”

“Yes, didn’t I make that clear over the comband, Mr. Jitt?” Northern said, swirling his brandy with great satisfaction.

“And you’re sure this is no Federation trap?” the dark-eyed man demanded. “I’ve still been having premonitions of a trap here, Captain.”

“Dansen Jitt, our resident Cassandra,” said Northern, by way of introduction, further relaxing by placing his boots on the table. “No, Jitt, she’s on the up and up. Old Zarpfrin had my skinny ass in a crack and Lasster crowbarred me out and gave me a ride back here.”

“And Laura?” a woman asked.

“Don’t worry, Gemma, I didn’t even tell them Laura was down there. She’ll be back on schedule with the information we need.”

“Too bad we don’t need her,” spat another woman in glossy makeup—unusual for the starways.

“The former,” said Northern, “is Gemma Naquist. She gets along fine with Laura. The latter is Silver Zenyo. She doesn’t.”

“She knows Laura, then?” Gemma Naquist said, her eyes sparking with interest.

“I am ashamed to say that I was instrumental in getting her out here in search of her brother, though Laura would interpret my part in it as resistance. All part of Zarpfrin’s strategies.”

“You planted that kill device in her noggin then?” Silver Zenyo said noncommittally. “The one that overrode her muscle control and forced her to shoot what she thought was her brother?”

Chivon turned away, feeling a warm flush of shame on her face. “I … I … no. But I did not stop the man who did, either.”

“None other than our good Friend Zarpfrin of the Best Buddies,” said Northern. “But they know everything, Chivon. We have no secrets. Speak freely. I’m sure they would be quite fascinated to hear about the other oddballs like Mish, still on Earth.”
 

Almost involuntarily Chivon Lasster finished her sparkle-whiskey and held the glass out to General Custer. “May I have another, please,” she murmured in a monotone.

“Why, certainly, ma’am,” the general drawled. He tilted his hat and took her glass.

She did not begin until he returned, forming her thoughts carefully to make them understand. Somehow she had to make them all understand—especially Northern and Mish. Perhaps that way she would understand as well. She tilted the freshened glass and sipped slightly, more for the moisture than the alcohol this time, and began.

“I’m not sure who you all are, what the cultural or social influences have been on your particular planets of origin, but through your stand against the Federation I’m sure you have some inkling of how it works, so I’ll use that as a basis for my explanation.

“We are all products of our particular society. The key to the unification of the Federated Empire has been control of individuals through the control of society—the most powerful strings of government are attached to the currents of creation in society, with strong awareness and acknowledgment of the natural forces in each of us that drive us.

“Thus, the Federation is a curious kind of totalitarianism, a subtle blend of mind molding and cultural manipulation created over the years as a bonding agent to adhere the human race as it reaches out through the stars. It is a nonintelligent system, a ghost macrocosm to the microcosm of smaller societies which, in fact, mirror the old institutions of family, and ultimately the survival mechanism of the individual.”

When she paused for a sip of her drink, Northern said, “Hey, Chivon, we don’t want a lecture about how scummy the Federation is. We know that. We just want to know why you defected and what it means to us.”

“No, no,” said Dr. Mish. “Let her continue. There is no rush, is there?”

“Tars, you always were in a hurry for everything to happen,” she told him curtly. “My reasons for leaving are complex, and speaking of them to sympathetic ears will help me understand why I’ve thrown away everything that I’ve worked for all my life!”

“Well, excuse me. I thought maybe you missed me,” said Northern, feigning a hurt look.

She had to laugh, but with little humor. “You’re still the same selfish son of a bitch, aren’t you, Tars?”

The others on the bridge—about twelve by now, several having straggled in and noticed the new passenger—laughed at that.

Tars shrugged for his audience. “You win some, you lose some.” He nodded at Chivon, who was bristling inwardly at his nonchalance. “I do apologize, Friend Lasster, I spoke out of turn.”

She pointedly ignored him as she continued, looking from face to face as she spoke. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed these pressures and forces in your lives from time to time. They operate constantly on every facet of your perceived existence. Trying to break away from them is a very difficult thing to do, particularly when cultural programming is a conscious effort on the part of a government as cunning as the Federation.

“No doubt your captain has previously filled you in on some of the facts concerning my role in the AI project and my relationship with the
Starbow
. No doubt you perceived me as your enemy. Quite frankly, as a Friend of the Federation, I was your enemy. As bureaucratic controller for a growing sector of Federation space, I actively sought out the
Starbow
and cooperated with Friend Zarpfrin in his strong efforts as well.

“This is partly because, I suppose, I sought vengeance upon your captain for betraying the Federation … and betraying me.” She darted Northern a glance, her face reddening as she continued. “But mostly I did it because it was my job. And apparently I was programmed quite strongly for that job, for it gratified my huge ambitions greatly.

“But not enough. I was troubled in many ways by my loss of Northern … ways I had difficulty acknowledging to myself. I was also troubled by the ruthless machinations of Arnal Zarpfrin. This caused me to question the very foundation of my assumptions concerning society, government, and my role in them. I sought help. I received that help in the form of counseling from a government-approved Computer Companion, a kind of psychoanalyst, if you will, who appeared to me in the form of a hologram of a man who called himself Andrew.

“When Zarpfrin began hatching his plan involving the use of Laura Shemzak to seek out and unwittingly destroy her captured brother, something in me balked. You see, Zarpfrin knew that there was a potential for your involvement, Tars. We have highly evolved propensity simulators, and Zarpfrin uses them constantly.”

Tars Northern raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Chivon raised her eyes from the floor, looking him in the face.

“I thought that my hatred of you had cleansed all other feelings, Tars. I only wished for your capture. However, in my talks with Andrew, my CompComp, I realized that there was much unresolved in me concerning my feelings toward you.

“As I unburdened myself of these layers of repression, and learned more about myself and the structure of the Federation, Andrew began to change. He wasn’t just a machine, you see, and he soon revealed that to me. He was a conscious entity, an energy being … just like your true form, Dr. Mish.

“When he thought he could trust me, he told me what had happened. When Zarpfrin had the AI ships destroyed in drydock, somehow Andrew and the three others managed a transfer of their logical being into our local neural net. Apparently continued existence for your race, Dr. Mish, depends upon a highly complex and dynamic system, much like information runs throughout an entire planet’s infrastructure.”

“Yes, yes!” said Dr. Mish. “I had not dared pray for such a possibility, but it makes absolute sense. And so my brethren hid in this computer and somehow managed to gradually transfer themselves to larger systems, systems that gave them more freedom and control!”

“Yes, and they had to tread very carefully, as it were, to avoid the firewalls built to detect the manifestation of artificial intelligence in the net!”

“The Friends always were paranoid about developing an entity smarter than they were,” said Northern. “Hence the precautions with the AI project.”

“Yes. At any rate, Dr. Mish’s companions were in very real ways fugitives in a dangerous world. Ghosts in the machine. Unable to do much save to observe … until Andrew infiltrated the CompComp system and dared to entrust me with their secrets.

“Much of what I learned concerning the Federation operation methods were revealed to me by Andrew in a safe place. I was horrified, though I had peripherally, vaguely, suspected as much, and repressed it. He then asked me to go and find you, Dr. Mish. For you, and the
Starbow
, are their hopes for survival. Who knows, after all, when the Federation may detect their existence? And in their present form, they are very vulnerable.”

“Yes. Yes of course,” said Mish. “And besides, having them here could turn the tide in my inner development … a combine. Yes, definitely possible ….”

“But what you’re saying then is that we would have to land the
Starbow
on Earth!” said Northern. “That’s lunacy!”

“No, not necessarily,” said Chivon Lasster. “We need a vehicle of transference, a spaceship, but it doesn’t have to be the
Starbow
. I would have transferred them myself, only I had to take another ship out as a passenger to get the
Nightingale
, in an orbit around Mars. But I’ve all the necessary instructions for transference: the best spot, the method for alerting Andrew and his fellow entities …. A heavily modified shuttle would do.”

“Land a shuttle on Earth itself?” said Dansen Jitt. “That’s suicide!”

A strange rumbling voice came from the doorway: “I sense … this would mean … another deviation … from our destination. I do not … approve. “Alarmed, Chivon turned to see a huge purplish-green creature leaning against the door frame. Involuntarily, she gasped.

“Meet our resident alien, Chivon,” said Captain Northern. “Name’s Shontill. At least that’s as close as human pronunciation can get to his real name.”

The creature was still glaring at Dr. Mish, who threw up his hands, gesturing at the alien. “I assure you, Shontill, this will not detain us long in our search for attilium. And with the addition of my brethren, I will be more complete and able to have more power over my portal.”

“I grow … weary,” said the alien. “Very weary.” It turned and left.

“Please excuse him,” Captain Northern said, taking his boots off the table and gazing after the creature.

“Shontill’s been rather depressed lately. He’s usually the life of the party.” When Chivon blinked with bafflement, Northern smiled understandingly and said, “I’ll explain it to you later.” He stood and looked around at the others. “But we’ll have to have a meeting on the subject, with all the crew, before we decide—”

“Captain,” said Tether Mayz. “I’m getting a faint signal over the comband. It’s Pilot Shemzak, sir. She’s coming in.”

W
hen the Federation fighters appeared several kilometers behind her, with the bright orb of Walthor still below, it took all of Laura Shemzak’s willpower not to about-face and let them have it.

Instead, she allowed them to follow her for some time, easily dodging the desultory fire until she reached the point where she could safely make a quick jump through Underspace to the position where the
Starbow
waited patiently for her return.

When she broke out of Underspace, and circled the moon to where the starship waited, she ardently hoped that somehow Northern had learned what Zarpfrin was up to; that the
Starbow
had shot away; that they had left her.

But they hadn’t.

The starship hung there, suspended within the penumbra of the moon, virtually immune from the detection of Walthor. Its running lights described the outline of a cylinder with spokes—the oddly shaped alien vessel rebuilt into a starship for humans, its secret buried deep within its belly.

As she neared the
Starbow
, Laura had to push away the emotions that clamored for attention within her.

She had to survive, and to survive meant keeping rigid control of herself. In that, and only that, was there a glimmer of hope.

She took some solace in the ease with which she still was able to control the XT 9. Linked not only to the nudges and taps of her fingers and toes and tongue, but directly plugged into the many interfacing devices of her partially cyborg body, the tremendously powerful little ship maneuvered at the slightest inkling of her willpower. She had been fashioned genetically and biosurgically to be a blip-ship pilot; riding the starways was second nature to her. She reveled in the glory of a vessel small enough to make planetfall, yet mighty enough to bridge the vast chasms between the stars.

But the price had been dear: addiction to this drug that made her enhanced nervous system capable of the fine-honed responses necessary in this welding of flesh to starship. Without Zernin she was a helpless blob of pain. With it she was capable of the sublime, a taster of stars, a flier amongst the planets.

It had not always been so, she thought as she let a brief gasp of retros go, her nul-gravs guiding her to the opening doors of the
Starbow’s
docking bay. Once, in Growschool with her brother Cal, she had been just a normal girl, somehow still having a delightful childhood despite the repressive, controlled conditions of Earth under the tutelage of the Federation. She couldn’t think too much of Cal now; couldn’t give herself too much hope that she would somehow wrest him away from the Jaxdron, who were probably exploiting his brain for its incredible, intuitive abilities in physics. No, she had to concentrate on controlling her thoughts. Concentrate on trying to act normal.

Expertly, she piloted the blip-ship up on suspensor beams through the open doors and navigated toward her berth. Yes, act normal. That was the ticket. Go with the flow: that was what Cal would say. Just get through each moment as well as possible, seeing what would turn up, acting with hope and courage.

No sooner had she docked than the door closed with surprising quickness. The docking area began to repressurize. The
Starbow
was in quite a hurry to lock up and ship out, and no wonder. More than once Captain Tars Northern had had close shaves with Federation mega blasters that could have cindered the
Starbow
beyond recognition. She could almost hear the cocky drunk now, crowing “Full speed ahead. That’s the last I want see of this godforsaken star system!”

And Chivon Lasster, of all people, was with them now. Incredibly, that’s what some of her pre-docking messages had reported. Former Friend Lasster. Laura wondered if she had enough emotions left to be jealous.

As soon as her instruments declared the atmosphere mix breathable, Laura disconnected from the blip. She felt as steady as a rock, again in full command of all her facilities. The Zernin was back at work, and she felt keen and bright.

As long as she didn’t make the Watcher unhappy, she ought.

That was the name she’d dubbed her implant: the Watcher. As long as she did not go against its programming, as long as she stayed true to her spy operation here on the
Starbow
, as long as she remained a traitor, then the Zernin would keep dripping slowly into her veins and she would be filled with well-being.

Cross it though and—

Even the vaguest thought of that made her shudder.

“Welcome back, Laura,” a voice called out over the intercom, ringing hollowly through the huge hangar. “Would you care to come up to the bridge for a debriefing?” Northern’s voice, casually clipped as always. “Wouldn’t hurt to be a strapped in when we dive into Underspace, either. Might be rough. Do hurry along, now. You’ve got approximately three minutes.”

Laura headed for the lift, shaking her head.

They had waited for her. They trusted her now.

What they should do is be waiting for her with proton guns and blow her wretched head off!

W
hat they had for her instead was a mug of hot tea.

“Strap in, dearie,” said Captain Northern. “Relax and enjoy the light show on the screens. Then we want to hear all about it.” He sniffed the air, smiling wryly. “I love the scent of a woman after she’s had a good workout.”

Laura sighed and slouched in her form-chair. She touched the appropriate buttons, and cushioned belts crossed over her torso, snuggling her tight into place. “Piss off!” Her voice was hoarse and tired.

“Settle down for a bit. We’ll swap stories after we’ve placed some distance between us and Zarpfrin.”

She did just that, sipping from the capped cup that the General Custer robot had given her. The milky, sugary stuff tasted just right, and she realized that it was just right every time she had been given it aboard the
Starbow.
Mish was kind to upload her personal preferences for food and drink; a small but characteristic example of the hospitality of the place.

She composed herself, looking at the busy pilots readying the great craft for its plunge into the void of Underspace. She was going over the story she would tell them, when Chivon Lasster stepped into the room and settled quietly into the chair next to Northern. Dr. Mish followed her.

Within a minute the screens of the
Starbow
turned from a display of the panorama of space to the streaming colors and visual oddities heralding entrance into another dimension; a dimension o f greater speeds and shorter distances; the dimension that opened up the stars to humankind.

After the light show there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief amongst the crew manning the bridge; there was no sign of Federation pursuit.

Captain Northern swiveled over to face Laura. “Well done, Pilot Shemzak. I can truly say that after the unfortunate events on Walthor, it is good to see that you made it out.”

“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice steely. “I see we have company. “She glared over at Friend Lasster. Of course, she knew that Northern had been captured, that Lasster had helped him escape; but of course she could not reveal this. “To what do we owe the dubious privilege?”

“Simple,” said Northern. “As you may surmise, by my nonarrival back at the place of meeting with your friend Xersi, I was most unfortunately waylaid.”

“That’s getting to be a bad habit,” she said sourly.

“Somehow, though, I always seem to get out.”

“I figured you had. Besides, I had to get out myself and I had to protect Xersi.”

Garbage, of course. She just prayed now that Zarpfrin hadn’t nailed the helpful, rebellious native.

“Quite. But then, this is supposed to be your debriefing, Laura, and I am sure that Dr. Mish is aching to know what you found out in the Fax Industries computer banks. “Chivon Lasster raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” Laura demanded in her best abrasive manner.

“Oh, yes. Chivon has sacrificed quite a bit to join our little number.” He turned to the former Friend. “You see, Laura had accidentally acquired a wealth of data from the Walthorian computer when she was on a recent intelligence mission there for your chaps.”

“Dr. Mish discovered it when he took out the implant Zarpfrin placed in me,” Laura said bitterly.

“Yes,” said Mish. “Indications were that somehow the Jaxdron had infiltrated that facility and were manufacturing intelligence gathering spyware that in turn were spread throughout the human-colonized worlds. This is possibly the reason for Calspar Shemzak’s capture by the Jaxdron—through one or any number of these devices they learned of the nature of his project on Mulliphen and the significance of his work and contributions. So, Laura, what did you discover?”

“I took a quick look around the system, but I’m afraid that I didn’t have time to copy any core data. The Feddies must have caught up with you about then, ‘cause everything in the system went wacko. I mean, totally haywire! I was lucky to get out without my internal ports getting fried!”

“And what did you find?”

“May I hazard a guess?” said Chivon Lasster quietly. “You found no indication of Jaxdron infiltration. That record was not the result of your tapping of the Walthor core computers. It was, like the other device, implanted in you before your journey to strike Out and rescue your brother.”

Northern was aghast. “But … why?”

“Simple,” said Laura. “A contingency. Zarpfrin was fully aware of the possibility that I might hook up with the
Starbow
.”

“Zarpfrin plays everything like a quite complex chess game,” Chivon said.

“And he loads the dice, to mix metaphors.”

“As best he can. Clearly, he foresaw many possibilities and prepared for each one.”

“You mean to tell me, he lured us to Walthor?” Captain Northern said.

Alarm grew in Laura; she fought to control it and immediately said, “That would explain the problems I had!”

“Problems?” Northern’s eyes were curious … or was that outright suspicion?

“Hell, yes! Somehow they found out I was there! If it wasn’t for my fleet feet and smarts and Xersi’s help, they would have had me for sure!”

Could they tell that her pulse was racing with this lie; could they read
traitor
in her eyes?

“Yes, Captain,” said Arkm Thur, looking from the console. “I recorded two fighters chasing Laura’s blip when it first registered outside Walthor’s atmosphere.”

Northern nodded. “Thank God you got out. But if that’s the case, then there’s something very strange about all this. A chess game with dice, played by Zarpfrin. But why? We’re going to have to analyze this a little more I think. Glad you got out, Laura. We’re going to need you.”

“Need me?” She swallowed a sip of tea and smiled. “Of course you need me!”

“For something special. You were wondering why Chivon Lasster joined our number. Well, I’ll tell you.”

Keeping her exterior cool as she calmed down inside, Laura listened as Tars Northern related the events that occurred to him after they had parted; the discovery of the surgical rooms, the imprisonment under Zarpfrin’s too-familiar control, the release and escape with Chivon Lasster’s help.

Chivon reprised the speech she had given to the other members of the
Starbow
crew, then apologized for her previous treatment of Laura and her part in the plan to rid the Federation of Cal.

“We are all controlled in an intricate web of pull strings, Laura,” said Chivon. “I’ve only recently decided to start cutting those strings. I admire you for having more power and courage than I did, to rely on your heart and feelings instead of fully throwing in with the machinations of the Federation. I just hope that I can serve my new fellows as well as you have.”

Laura felt empty inside. Empty and ashamed. But her voice was clear and assured as she spoke: “So what do I have to do with these alien spirits or energy beings or … whatever the hell they are.”

“They are my kindred, Laura,” said Dr. Mish. “I must save them. I must bring them to the safety that I enjoy here, attached to my portal. And it is likely that they can help us tremendously.”

Dr. Mish then explained how a complex environment of neural hardware was required to maintain the beings’ existence. “Of course, this means a mode of transfer is necessary,” he said, “since the
Starbow
is incapable of landing on a planetary surface. A shuttle would do, though it would be terribly risky. But a blip-ship would be extraordinarily superior, with a far better chance of success on the hostile situation of Earth’s solar system. You would merely have to land, jack into with the necessary interface until my brethren have transferred, and then depart. Once back on the
Starbow
, they may be transferred into our system here. But, of course, we’ll need your assent on the mission. It will be dangerous.”

“Of course she’ll go!” said Northern. “Laura will do anything. Won’t you, dear heart?”

Inside, she was all turmoil. You idiots, she thought. Don’t do this! I have to betray you! I’ll have to tell Zarpfrin, and he’ll have you all.

She opened her mouth intending to confess, no matter what the consequences.