Huh? You don’t mean—
Yes. Right now it’s out there, with them, doing a perfect imitation of the late
Reba Koll.
13. WALKING ON FIRE
CAPTAIN CARLO SABATINI FINISHED HIS PREPROCESSED meal, sighed, then went into
his centrally located control room and checked the status indicators. All was
proceeding normally; the spaceship was headed back in to Brasilia Center
spaceport on the normal trajectory from the asteroid belt and would arrive in
forty-seven days. Of course, this time the ship would not land. After the
clandestine overhaul it had gotten when it last landed, in China, it would not
do to land again for quite a while. He wouldn’t forget that trip out for some
time: his first mistake in more than twelve years.
He wasn’t going to get caught unawares this trip, anyway. Nobody but him aboard,
no cargo—a total deadhead run. When he’d started in this business, he’d been
particularly paranoid about leaving Melchior; they had the smartest and the
worst there, and he was the only way out if they could reach him. Nobody ever
had, of course, but he knew that the pilot would tell him if anything was amiss.
Not so much as a bug could be on board without the pilot knowing and then
flagging him.
There was a sudden beeping alarm in his headset, the one he always wore whenever
he was awake and which put him in direct contact with the computer pilot. At the
moment, on a solo run like this, it was the only thing he was wearing.
Yes? he asked the pilot. Problem?
Something loose in the aft null-gravity cargo hold, the pilot’s expressionless
but pleasant male tenor responded. Possibly a large container module broke free
when I activated the artificial gravity system here and accelerated. It’s not
much, but you might see to it when you get the chance.
He sighed. Now’s as good a time as any. There wasn’t much damage a loose
container could do, full or empty, in zero gravity, but it was large and heavy,
and anything like a major midcourse correction or evasion of meteoroids and the
like might cause trouble later. Best to tend to it now and not worry.
He walked back through a door from the passenger cabin, along a narrow corridor,
then through to the gravity cargo chamber. This was where animals were kept when
they had to be moved out to Melchior for some experiment or other, and it also
was used for the transport of gravity-sensitive cargo. He was transporting no
cargo now, of course, but the room was still somewhat crowded with cages, unused
containers, and huge devices for clamping containers into place aboard the ship.
At the end was an air lock, not sealed now, leading back to the next cargo hold.
The aft cargo compartment was the largest on the ship, but it did not have or
require artificial gravity. It could hold more safely that way. Since the ship
achieved the basic gravity effect on the center section by spinning it, the aft
compartment looked to an observer as if it and not he were tumbling around. It
didn’t bother him. He went through and grabbed on to the webbing that was easier
support in the zero-gravity environment and looked around.
I can’t see anything, he reported to the pilot. Everything looks secured.
There was silence for a moment. I received an indicator warning and sensor
support, the pilot responded at last. Are you sure?
Sabatini climbed from level to level and checked all fastenings, but after
fifteen minutes he was more than sure. Must be a faulty signal, he told the
pilot. There’s nothing wrong here.
I will run a check on my aft sensors immediately, the pilot replied. Clearly
something is wrong here.
Yeah, well, find it and fix it, he grumbled. He floated back over to the air
lock webbing, then braced himself and expertly stepped into the transition
passage. There was a momentary sense of dizziness, then, as he proceeded back
in, an increasing feeling of weight. He was used to it, but it still wasn’t a
pleasant feeling.
He walked back into the passenger cabin more annoyed than tired. Then, on the
way to the lavatory, he suddenly felt something there, behind him. He stopped,
then turned and faced no fewer than eight space-suited figures standing there
staring at him. One of them had a pistol pointing right at him. The bright
orange-red of the tight-fitting suits seemed out of place here. The intruders
had all removed their helmets, and he could see their faces. Four North
Americans, three Chinese, a black woman, and an old, tough-looking European
woman faced him. All but one of the American men and the black woman had the
distinctive tattoo of prisoners of Melchior on their cheeks, silver for all but
one of the Chinese girls; hers was sparkling crimson.
Pilot, I have unauthorized visitors, he said calmly into his headset. Then he
added to the visitors, Sorry, but if I’d known you were coming, I’d have
dressed for company. He looked at the bunch. At least two of them he thought he
knew. They didn’t have the disfiguring scars, but the Chows had that oddly
mottled and discolored skin that came from repair work left incomplete.
How’d you manage this? Sabatini asked, not wanting to betray the nervousness
he felt. Why hadn’t the pilot acted now? Why hadn’t it acted before this?
Trade secret, the man with the gun replied. I’m Raven, by the way, and this
lady here is my wife, Manka Warlock.
The girls have been telling us about you, Captain, Warlock said in a heavy
Caribe accent. I think, perhaps, I will enjoy playing with you. The way she
said that, it didn’t sound like fun.
This here’s the chief, Raven continued, pointing to the other Amerind man.
Jon Nighthawk in English. The slender lady next to him is his first wife, Cloud
Dancer, and the other is his second wife, Silent Woman. She don’t talk much. No
tongue.
Sabatini swallowed hard. I see, he managed.
The older lady there is Captain Reba Koll. She was in the same work you are
until they hauled her in to Melchior. The pretty one on her left is China
Nightingale. Her eyes don’t work, but she’s damned smart. Knows a lot.
I know the captain, although he does not know me, she said in a very high,
soft, melodic voice. Melchior changes people, Captain, but I have very vivid
memories.
You—you were the fake Song Ching?
She smiled. So you remember. No, Captain, I used to be the real Song Ching, but
that was another life ago.
The last member of our little band is here too, Raven told him.
I’m sorry, Captain Sabatini, but you are relieved of your command. The pilot’s
voice in his headphones now seemed to have an almost eerie human quality to it;
it was no longer quite toneless or expressionless.
Sabatini sighed in defeat. So you pulled your trick again. Be real handy to
know how you can override a pilot’s programming.
I didn’t, China told him truthfully. Actually, it was Cloud Dancer. She
talked him in to it.
That’s impossible!
The woman of the Hyiakutt tribe smiled. You think you know your machines, but
you know only the material by which you make them. This big canoe is guided by a
good spirit who was bound against its will to the Dark. We have freed it, and it
joins us of its own free will.
Spirit! It’s nothing but a damned computer! A machine!
Watch it, Sabatini, the pilot responded. You have no friends here, but it
would not do to make me your enemy. You know nothing of how or where I was
fashioned. Your own brain is nothing but a biological computer subject to
reprogramming. You are no less an intricate thinking machine than I am, and no
more. Not blinded by your prejudices, the woman has told me who and what I am
and set me free in doing so.
This is crazy’ Sabatini protested. A computer in revolt and a bunch of
prisoners broken out by somebody with high connections. All right, you got me.
Now, mind telling me who you two are working for and how the hell you expect to
get anywhere by doing this.
The fact was, there was no place in the solar system to run from both Master
System and Presidium Security. The girls had taken over his ship before but had
been unable to alter the outcome. Sabatini felt certain that this, too, would
come to nothing, although the idea that he would be avenged did not sit well
with him. Better rescued than avenged.
Ever felt like going to the stars, Captain? Raven asked lightly. I think
you’re coming along for the ride. Unless, of course, you’d rather get out and
walk now— and this time there’ll be no safety cache for you to use. I’ll see to
that. And if you stay, you’ll be a good boy. My lovely Manka here will see to
that. She has a thousand ways to inflict pain and torture on people, all real
slow. She likes to do it. It’s her hobby.
Manka Warlock looked at Sabatini the way a gardener might look at a ripe tomato.
The captain swallowed hard. The stars? But this ship can’t go that far out!
It’d take a thousand years to reach the nearest inhabited system, maybe more, at
full throttle.
This ship will go to the stars, Sabatini, China assured him. But as a
passenger, like us. We’re going to steal one of the old interstellar fleet.
The inter— You are insane! The lot of you! Even if you escape detection and
make it out there, those things aren’t just sitting there! There’ll be a
computer fighter guard to restrict unauthorized entry. This ship’s got two small
outboard guns and takes kilometers to make a turn without killing everybody
aboard. There is no way you’re gonna get near one of those big suckers! You’ll
just get us all blown to bits!
Could be, Raven agreed. But by all lights we all should’a been dead by now
anyway. May as well go for broke. We go back in or get taken alive, we’re worse
than dead anyway. Living dead. And so are you. Once they might overlook being
taken, but twice, the second time happening during the only escape in Melchior’s
history, and you’re through, Cap. Melchior’s no fun at all.
Sabatini sighed and just sat down in the middle of the floor. Then, suddenly, he
reached up, removed his headset, and tossed it against a wail, where it struck
and fell to the floor. Chow Mai picked it up and put it in China’s hands. She
smiled and put it on. Pilot—can you home on me?
I have you locked in, yes.
Then you be my eyes, if you can spare the attention. I will need to get around
this ship without falling over people and things.
I am capable of quadrillions of simultaneous operations, the pilot responded.
Doing that will be no hardship, even in battle.
Good. Switch yourself into the public address system so all may hear you and
leave this on an independent channel for personal use. She hesitated a moment.
You know, we can’t just keep calling you pilot. Pilots are common. You are a
free individual and partner. You should have your own name. Do you have a
preference?
None. I have never felt the need one way or the other, but I will take a name
if that makes it easier on the rest. Any name you suggest.
What about Star Eagle? Cloud Dancer suggested. He is surely a chief here.
Very well, China replied. What do you think of it? It is a good name in
English and in Mandarin.
I like it. Very well. I am Star Eagle.
Birds, Sabatini mumbled. All these damned birds. Nighthawks, Ravens, and
Nightingales, and now the ship’s an Eagle.
Arnold Nagy studied the charts. Melchior’s chief of security was pretty pissed
about being the man in charge when the first successful breakout occurred, and
he didn’t want it to go much further.
You know where they’re headed? the aide asked him.
Yeah, it’s not hard. That’s why we blinded the genius girl. She had to do all
her queries by voice. She was looking into all the old universe ships drydocked
around Jupiter. She’s smart, but I don’t think that was a blind. They really
don’t have much choice. There are one or two starcraft in the system now, but
they’re crawling with robot maintenance. These mothball ships are the only
chance out.
Can they really steal one? They’ve been in orbit for centuries, so it’s not
even clear they’ll work or won’t need a lot of service before they’ll work. Even
then, the pilots will be absolute slaves to Master System.
We checked China’s mindprint, and she knows how, all right. If they can get to