To The Stars (The Harry Irons Trilogy) (38 page)

In the clearing, small fires burned from shrubs, grass, and tree limbs ignited by the hot thrust of the shuttle engines. Harry watched the shuttle for a long time, then turned and walked back to the two aborigines where all three took shelter under a towering redwood.

Harry sat on an exposed root and tried to think. He had no way to communicate with the shuttle or the Magellan. Would they come back for him? His heart began to race as panic became a knot in his stomach and threatened to rise up to his throat and strangle him.

He was well into playing 'what if?' when he realized that, if Kathleen was still alive, this was how she probably felt. Stranded.

Chapter 32

Harry didn't have long to mope before the sound of airjets got his attention. Both he and the two Bedorans froze while through the branches they glimpsed dark, polished metal passing directly overhead. The alien craft passed slowly but uneventfully.

Kretin looked at the point of his spear. Unsatisfied, he fished a stone from his pouch and began sharpening the tip. Arai sipped water from a pouch and offered some to Harry. Against his better judgment, Harry took it, planning only on washing out his mouth, but as soon as the cool water reached his lips, his thirst overcame him and he drank in deep draughts.

Without looking up, Kretin spoke. Harry caught the gist of most of it.

"We must go back," he said. "We must take care of Grandfather's body."

Arai nodded. "What about him?" The boy pointed at Harry.

"He can do what he wants."

"He is strange. Alone in the forest, he will be killed."

"That is everyone's concern."

While the primitives discussed his fate, Harry considered the options. He could stay put and hope Fagen would return. If he stayed where he was, he might have to contend with some of the aliens. If the shuttle didn't return, he was stuck, lost in a place he knew little about.

"Three are stronger than two," Arai reminded his brother.

"That is true. He could help us carry..." Kretin turned and kicked the alien. It dodged and spat at him. The Bedoran warrior laughed in defiance.

"The thing is puny. Perhaps we should kill it. Then we would not have to carry it."

Arai easily agreed.

Harry stared at the alien and struggled with his feelings. Could he make them spare its life? Probably not. It lay helplessly wrapped in the net and stared with its cold, piercing eyes. On the other hand, Harry thought, what did it matter? The thing was obviously beyond reach. It was intelligent enough to communicate; it simply chose not to. The first advanced species to be discovered and they turned out to be brutal little bastards. Harry would be in all the history books for all the wrong reasons.

"Wait," Harry said. He thought about the correct way to say what he had in mind. "We can use it," he pointed at the alien, "to trap others. If you are not afraid." Harry insulted them, hoping it would achieve the desired effect.

Kretin exchanged a glance with his brother. "Do my ears lie to me?" He straightened up and faced Harry. A tense moment passed. Kretin stared hard at Harry and finally banged a fist against his furry chest.

"I am Kretin, a Bedoran warrior. I have no fear!"

Harry replied without hesitation, in nearly perfect Bedoran. "Then let us spare the life of the monster and gather more in a trap. The creature will be, will be..." Harry searched for the word.

"Bait?" Arai offered.

"Yes," Harry said, "bait."

Arai looked at his brother who still stared menacingly at Harry. "What do you think, brother? A trap set for the others?"

To Harry's relief, Kretin relaxed and waved his tail positively. He stepped to the bundled alien and hoisted it aloft. Setting it beside Harry, he said, "Then you can carry it."

Kretin began walking and the others followed. It didn't take long to retrace their steps to the spot where the elder Bedoran was killed. They approached warily and soon found the body of the old man. The corpse was in bad shape. To their dismay, the head and one hand was missing. Animals had been at the remains as well.

The two Bedorans moved quickly, finding leaves to dress and pad the body, then giant fronds to cover it. Using branches, Kretin expertly fashioned a stretcher and tied the body into it. Harry kept watch and tried to help, but the abos didn't want him to touch their Grandfather's body.

As they hoisted the body onto the stretcher, Harry saw that both were crying. Still, they seemed to hold back, as if they wanted to save their deepest grief for a more proper time. Harry began to understand how important the rituals were to these primitives, how deeply ingrained into their culture, such as it was. Before they performed even the simplest of tasks, there was a signal, most usually a gesture with the tail, prior to the action. Presently, Kretin waved his tail and uttered a half-dozen stuttered coughs. He squatted on the ground and drew a circle as he whispered to himself. He looked into the forest as if to get his bearings, then back down to the circle. Using a stick, he drew a bisecting line, then short points along the line. Arai started the routine all over again in other spot.

In a short time, they were on their way. Harry carried the alien hoisted over his shoulder like a sack, and the two Bedorans carried the body of their Grandfather. Harry plodded on one step at a time and tried to occupy his mind. One thought kept returning to him, a verse from a long dead 21st century poet. It seemed appropriate and went like this:

“The choices are always the same,

as if we knew all along;

but we continue to play the game,

arriving at destinations unknown.”

Over and over the verse ran through his head until it became a silent chant Harry marched by. After a time, the words lost their meaning, but the beat remained.

*

Blane waited for the signal that would indicate the transmission gear was ready. He could have watched a light on the instrument panel -- it would indicate when the connections were made and the equipment was online -- but he didn't need it. Because of the terminal connected directly to his brain, Blane would receive the digital signal in his head before it reached the instrument panel.

He was aware that Fagen was trying to escape from the surface. It was a concern, but not his major concern. Fagen would either make it or he wouldn't. One way or the other, it didn't change Blane's plans.

He wasn't crazy, but he wasn't exactly sane either. When one spent so much time with computers, sometimes the distinction between reality and cyberspace became blurred. Nonetheless, Blane was a genius. His implants multiplied his intelligence tenfold and enabled him to analyze huge amounts of data quicker than most computers. The result of all this interaction with digital logic at times confused him. Simply put, sometimes he forgot he was human.

Even the alien computer had recognized him as a cybernetic intelligence, if the thing could be called a computer. It wasn't constructed like any computer Blane had ever seen. Its messages contained questions and requests as well as straightforward data. It seemed to think autonomously. There was none of the usual stimulus-response type of operating construction that was designed into the machines built on Earth. Instead, the alien computer seemed alive, spontaneous in its thought and the messages were passed faster than even Blane could keep up.

The computer had displayed no hostility. It showed little regard for life forms either, but Blane mused it could be because in many ways it adopted the mindset of its builders, just as the primitive computers built on Earth copied the logical mindset of humanity. Being inside the alien machine was strange, but also the most fascinating experience Blane had ever had.

The equipment signaled that it was primed and ready. The light on the instrument panel flashed green. Via his implants, Blane sent a command to the radio and a pre-coded message was beamed to the alien craft. Instantly, Blane detected a response.

Satisfied, he closed his connection to the communications routines and returned to a virtual reality that he'd found himself visiting more and more often. In it, he was in total control, godlike in his powers with the ability to create his every whim from thin air. And women. Oh, the women. They were everywhere, and everyone beautiful, with perfect bodies, and breasts that...

*

The shuttle pitched and Fagen fought to keep it under control.

"What's wrong?" shouted Parker.

Fagen didn't take his eyes from the instruments. "We're losing hydraulic pressure."

"I thought Bonner fixed that!"

"Yes, well..." Fagen shrugged.

The shuttle pitched violently to one side as the craft hit an upper atmospheric jet stream. Parker went sprawling and Fagen fought the controls. A loud thud sounded somewhere in the rear and the craft shuddered as if in pain.

"What was that?"

"We just lost primary hydraulics."

"Great. What are we going to do now?"

Fagen was too busy to answer. The shuttle was still climbing, but how long was anybody's guess.

Parker glanced at the instrument readings. Engine temperature climbed into the red. Parker pulled the seat straps tighter and waited for an explosion that would disintegrate the shuttle and spread his charred remains through the thin upper atmosphere of Mia Culpa.

And then, quite suddenly, they were weightless. The engines shut down and the shuttle drifted in orbit. The instrument panels flashed red. One system after another reached a critical point and shut down.

"What now?" Parker asked, wild-eyed.

Without speaking, Fagen unstrapped his restraints and made his way into the lower compartment. He pulled away a panel and reached in amid a jumble of wires. Finding what he wanted, he pulled once, then twice and a handful of wires came loose.

"What are you doing?" Parker screamed.

Fagen ignored the doctor and went to another panel. He yanked the cover away and pulled on some more wires. This time they came away easily. He didn't bother to replace the cover.

He turned and looked up into the cockpit, facing the doctor. "Down here."

"What?"

"Get down here. Now!"

Parker frowned, but unstrapped himself anyway and floated down into the lower compartment. Fagen opened the wide locker that held the EVA suits.

"Get suited up."

"We're going to leave the shuttle?"

"Unless you want to die."

Although he didn't immediately accept the fact, the doctor did as he was told and began to don his spacesuit. "What's the matter with the shuttle?"

"I think the aliens sabotaged it. Hydraulics gone, coolants gone, the mini-reactor's heating up. I can't stop it."

"How long have we got until it explodes?"

Fagen shrugged. He didn't know. The commander floated into the cockpit and radioed the Magellan. After a short pause, Nadine answered. Fagen gave her the coordinates for the shuttle, then added, "We're bailing out, Nadine. I've got a reactor overload and I'm 90 miles away."

Bonner's voice replaced Nadine's. "Stay put, Edward. We'll pick you up."

"Not a good idea, Bill. The thing could blow anytime. We'll try to make our way back on our own."

Parker chimed in. "Maybe we should let Bonner pick us up."

"Might get us all killed," snapped Fagen.

"Roger, understand," said Bonner, concern in his voice. "We'll try to track you, let us know what's going on. We'll be ready to move in, if needed."

"Just stay put," said Fagen, "and secure the ship against electro-magnetic pulses. With a little luck, we'll see you shortly. This is Fagen, out."

Parker looked unbelievably at the commander. "90 miles? On an EVA?"

Fagen ignored the doctor and took a last look at the instrument readings before floating back down into the lower compartment. He helped Parker with the EVA suit, then donned his own.

When they were ready, together they stepped into the airlock, sealed the hatch and depressurized the compartment. Fagen punched a button and the hatch opened.

Parker gaped at the stars but Fagen didn't waste any time. He pulled himself out of the airlock and floated a few feet from Parker. Along the hull, Fagen saw burned and pitted marks where the explosion from the laser cannon had damaged the shuttle. It was a wonder they hadn't crashed on takeoff. Drifting farther away, Fagen punched an airjet and stabilized himself. It was Parker's turn.

He hesitated and Fagen waved. "Come on Parker. You can do it."

"I'm coming." Parker came through the hatch a little too fast. He tried to brake himself but a miscalculation sent him spinning off.

Briefly, Fagen thought about letting him go, but with a short burst from his jets, he pursued the doctor. Precious time and fuel was wasted, but he managed to catch up and point the doctor in the right direction. Together they started their trek to the Magellan and hoped they could get far enough away to avoid being killed by the imminent explosion.

*