“We’re not the last. Bar,” George said in that earlier, softer tone. “We’re the first. Again. Remember what I said about Eve? I knew they’d blow the planet, really. They had to. Our very existence is a threat to them. The virus. Bar. It’s not stable. It’s programmed to maintain a Patmos condition. All we’d have to do is expose them to us and they’d be exposed to the Patmos condition. They were doctors out to kill an infection. They failedthey got the bulk, but Moses and we are still at large. They’ll be back for us both, with full guns blazing, sparing neither manpower nor expense.
119
The Web of the Chozen
“LookMoses understood. All he had to do was breed a large number of us and land us on some other planets. A passive invasion. No matter what happened to the invaders, the real invaders, the virus, would be loose. It might take years to breed fast enough, but eventually it would take over. Winds, flying things, the very microbes in the air. As fast as humans could find a toxin the virus would change into something slightly different with the same result. You’ve seen how fast it can stimulate cell growth. Imagine how fast it could breed, the immunity it could develop to almost everything!”
I stopped. I hadn’t thought of any of this, really. But GeorgeGeorge was a lot of things, that’s why he’d been a master. A biologist by profession, really.
I looked at him. “That means we’re flying time bombs for the human race,” I said in wonder.
“We sure are,” George agreed. “And with Eve approaching maturity, in a few months there’ll be more. And still more later. And not all that much later, ei-ther!”
That brought another thought to mind.
“George, what’s going to happen when breeding starts?” I asked him. “I mean, we can handle maybe a dozen here, no more. This ship should be good for years, but it just doesn’t have the room.”
“Can we find someplace else?” he suggested. “Af-ter all, this is a ship outfitted for that purpose, and you’re a scout trained to carry out such a mission.”
“The odds! The odds, George!” I protested. “First, not more than one in a hundred systems has planets. Second, no more than one in a thousand has the most basic planets in the right positions. Not more than one in a hundred thousand has the kind of planet we need. It might take fifty years or more to find a good one.”
George frowned. “Seems to me that’s poor odds. How many scouts are there, anyway?”
“About two hundred,” I replied. “About half out > at any one time. But, you see, Seiglein’s people are
120
The Web of the Chozen
equipped to Terraform suitable planets. One in five to ten thousand can be Terraformed, even have an atmosphere added. We have nothing to do that with aboard!”
George considered this. “Sure we do. The best agent there is if the place is anything anybody can work with, has anything organic. Remember how we grew a field out of a small pile of manure? And you’ve still got lots of those little things in deep-freeze.”
The nurds, I thought. Yes, they would carry the infection, and the seed.
“But the problem is, George, that it would still take a lot longer than we’ve got,-” I pointed out. “Not only that, but I couldn’t use my screens or my spectrometric equipment. We’d be flying blind.”
“Then we need to buy more time,” George responded. “We have to have the time to breed, the time to look, and the time to try and move things more in our biological favor.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, hope rising slightly in me again.
“Well, if you can solve the first problem, somehow, I think, with your help, we might be able to use your computer to solve the second. Remember, you’ve got an entire biological laboratory here to test out new planets. You’re not a biologistso that computer of yours must know a hell of a lot about it, can do most of it. If Moses can create and program these viruses, then we can, too!”
Nobody beats Bar Holliday. Problems are challenges, and challenges must be met and conquered.
I threw myself into the work. I was a fanatic. The bombing of Patmos had cut whatever cords still bound me to humanity; I was totally an alien now, totally divorced from them, totally dedicated to the revenge that I knew must come.
I considered the most pressing problem first, thinking on it for several cycles. Where could we get extra
121
The Web of the Chozen
space, undetected, to breed? Where could we go, what could we find that would serve, at least tempo-rarily? Not a human planet, surely. Those wretches wouldn’t be above nuking another one, if that would get the whole batch. And, although they had some planets that we couldn’t use, ideal conditions for them approached ideal conditions for us.
In the meantime, I assisted George with the work on the virus, which was strange; I had the computer link, so I had to be the one to arrange everything, yet in many cases I hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on. George had forgotten a lot, but he still knew the questions to ask, and the computer, to my surprise, knew the answers. George was rightthe computer had all the biological knowledge necessary, better than Moses because it was more up to date.
Our lack of conventional vision was the worst problem. We couldn’t view slides or the like. So I worked on that with the computer, trying to rig a system so we could “see” what was going on. What we managed wasn’t great, but it would do: a sonic code, that the computer would translate from the dots that made up the pictures. The system wasn’t foolproof and it was slow goingsince the sound limit gave us a top-to- bottom scan but no stable imagebut it worked well
enough. I still hadn’t any real idea what we were looking at,
but to George it provided the last valuable tool. I had some training in interpreting slides and specimens, enough to do my job. But the bulk of the work on a new planet was always done from the readout of information from the computer when I got back. I had been able to identify the virus in the initial Patmos survey, but would have been unable to combat it or
understand its nature.
Not so with George. He was like one of the kids,
happy, playful, almost overjoyed at his work. More-over, Eve showed some interest in what we were do-ing, so he had a helpful pupil as well. As for me, I
122
The Web of the Chozen
followed much of what he was doing, and learned a lot, but it was boring and repetitious work, with little gain from day to day. Had I not been necessary to the job, I would not have been part of it.
And yet, it was I who had the most pressing problem. I had only a year, no more, to develop and execute a plan for some place to expand. I had to as-sume the worst, that Eve would produce the full six eggs, putting ten of us in the scout ship. We might handle ten, but that would be tough and crowded, and the food supply would be iffy. But in a sense they, too, would be time bombs for ustwo years to leam, to mature, to grow and become people. Ham and Eve were real people only six months after they were bom.
The decision would have to be made by the end of the Breed; we’d have to smash the eggs, or, at best, kill them as soon as they emerged from the pouch.
I could cheerfully have killed Seiglein, or Olag, or any human, but I didn’t think I could kill a Choz. I also didn’t think, even if we could, that it would be best for the start of a new civilization to found it on murder for expediency. So the problem had to be solved, and quickly. Even a year sounds like a long time, but it would take time to get anyplace.
One thing was sure: the future had to start in the rear, back within the human worlds. If I struck out for unexplored territory, we might get lucky, might find a place. But the odds were too great, and, once there, we would be too far to turn back. The decision would, in a sense, be forced.
All my life I had resented forced decisions, so I jumped long for the human worlds, trying to find an answer.
What, after all, did we need?
Spacespace for a growing population, at least at the start. Not a planet, no. That wouldn’t work. And we hadn’t the tools or technology to build our own place, nor the hands with which to build them.
And then, one day, heading back, it hit me.
123
The Web of the Chozen
There were, last I knew, a hundred and four human worlds. On a big map, they would be a small group, but distances were deceiving. The closest ones averaged fifty light-years apart, except for the eight that were in paired, multiplanetary systems. The furthest. averaged over three hundred and fifty.
It took a lot of commerce to connect those worlds, to supply them with what they lacked from the core factory worlds. Lots of freighters, some almost half as large as the Peace Victory, moved regularly among them. They had minimal crewstwo to fiveand they had open computers.
If we could take oneif, somehow, we could take onewe would solve the immediate problem. But, how did a ship without weapons, a fly speck next to one of the huge freighters, capture it? Especially with two adults, one of whom had never done anything underhanded in his life, and two naive kids? With no hands or weapons except their own bodies against the humans inside?
124
Fourteen
Ship’s sensors showed a long shape approachingal-most two kilometers. I stood there, nervously wishing that there was some way to know what the ships carried. A cargo of robots or an automated machine shop would be very handy; a billion synthetic steaks or spare parts for Creatovisions would be worse than useless.
“This one?” Ham asked, nervous but excited.
I studied the scene. “No,” I responded. “It would be nice to take it, but a ship that big has to have a crew of five or so, maybe even a passenger section. We can’t afford that.”
Reluctantly, we let the long little world we needed coast on by and. watched it braking for docking orbit off a new and nameless planet that was still being Terraformed.
I chose this area because it would have the most traffic and the least military. Not that the military was very largethere were no more than three ships the size of Courrant, and perhaps two hundred or so smaller vessels. There was no need for a large force, since there was social stability. The people as a whole were so vegetative that they would revolt only if the system broke down completely. The creative ones, the bright-eyed kids raised by the corporations and the state, were, for the most part, turned into dull, plodding, unimaginative cogs in the corporate system. The system ate minds, consumed them, but while it was dull and stagnant it was not threatened.
125
The Web of the Chozen
In fact, the military’s major employment was in large-scale construction projects; it existed only because a power structure never quite feels comfortable without one, and because of the theoretical threat of an extraterrestrial, nonhuman civilization that might be found someday, but which had never materialized.
Until now. Now, the four who posed that threat sat in a tiny
spacecraft hidden by some of the natural debris al-ways floating around near a solar system, waiting to
pounce.
Several hours passed, but, the Choz have infinite
patience and a poor time sense.
Another ship showedstill too big, too formidable-looking.
Finally one came along that met our specifications, but it was followed too closely by another. Timing was everything here; the emergence point from the L-jump was, as is standard with babies this size, quite a distance from the target solar system. Out of range of the routine system sensors, really. We needed one, alone, with no other ship in the vicinity that could pick up
calls.
Seven more passed and were rejected as time went. Finally, the traffic eased up. Obviously a large ship-ment was going in; this had been some sort of a con-voy.
We waited patiently, knowing that we could afford no mistakes, knowing that a ship would eventually come that was right. And one dida smaller ship, less than a kilometer but nice and wide, like a great,
fat arrow.
“This is it,” I warned the others. “Places!” I kicked in the automated distress call on my ship, using less than a third strength. This had the advantage of reducing the risk of others hearing it. Or making it seem like my power was down to those who did hear it.
126
The Web of the Chozen
The freighter heard it. It started to slow; I could see the energy brakes come on.
“This is the Nijinsky calling ship in distress,” came a female voice. “Come in, ship in distress.”
“This is Seiglein Scout 3167,” I replied through the computer, using a number just a little higher than the corporation was now using. “I am just back from sector scouting and I have had an accident.”
Silence for a moment, then she asked, “All right, Seiglein 3167. Have you any motive power? Can you make it to our lock?”
“I believe so,” I responded. “I was injured in the crash, though. Do you have a doctor aboard?”
“Negative on the doctor. We are a freighter, and there are only two of us aboard. However, we can administer first-aid until we get you to the medical station on Loki … We are homing on your signal. Maintain your present heading.”
Luck was running with us; I’d judged the ship and crew exactly. As important as the ship itself was the fuel it held; my little ship used only a small bit for in-system work, and had a reserve, but it could tap the fuel supply of the big one without restricting the Nijinsky”s capabilities very much. Like taking an eye-dropper’s worth from a billion-liter tank.
They closed rapidly and soon locked on.
“I’m too hurt to move through the lock,” I told them. “You will have to come and get me.”
“We’re on automatic now,” Nijinsky replied. “Com-ing aft.”
We lowered the lights to minimum; we didn’t need them, anyway, and kept them on only for the plants; you couldn’t turn off the upper deck and leave the lowers on. To the humans, it would be almost total darkness.
George was positioned against the wall near the air lock; I was pressed against the wall facing the lock, but quite a bit back. We had practiced this maneuver several times on each other but there was a strong
127
The Web of the Chozen undercurrent of nervousness now that the real thing was upon us.
Ham and Eve held back; they couldn’t spin web yet, so they waited in case we missed or things went wrong. Then they would have to move fast to save us. I was counting on the total lack of aggression in human society; there being no threat, they would be expecting nothing untoward now.
The lock opened, and I could see two figures hesitate, then start through. The dummies weren’t wearing
spacesuits!
“Jesus! His power’s gone. It’s dark in there,” warned the first figure, the woman I’d spoken with on the radio. “Watch your step!”
“Right behind you, Marsha,” responded another, also a female voice.
When the first one was inside, we waited, motion-less, for the second to come through. Since we could talk in frequencies they couldn’t hear, I gave running instructions: “George, get the second one as soon as she clears. Ham, EveI don’t see any weapons, but be ready. On my signal… Now!”
“Hey! Scout! Where are” the one called Marsha started to shout, then George’s webbing struck the second woman, wrapping around her arms, while my own did the same for Marsha.
They yelled and struggled, and we cut the web and started again, lower down.
The other one turned and started to run but George wrapped web around her feet and she fell with a crash on the deck, continuing to struggle.
Marsha turned, too, and I missed on my first try at her legs, but in her panic she struck the other woman and started over. I shot webbing back and forth, bind-ing them on the deck in an awkward position, almost on top of one another.
They struggled against their bonds, but could do
nothing.
I hooked into the vocal circuits of the computer.
The Web of the Chozen
“Don’t struggle anymore,” I warned them, affecting as soothing a tone as I could. “You will not be harmed if you behave.”
Both calmed down a little, but then I had to jump over them to get into Nijinsky and was briefly silhouetted by the light from the freighter.
One woman screamed. “My God! Theythey’re monsters!” she yelled. I had no time for her hysteria. I raced for the Nijinsky’s bridge, imagining all sorts of ships closing in on us, discovering us before we could move.
I made the bridge in record time, much faster than a human could run, and took a quick scan. Everything was on standby.
Nervously I fumbled with the switches I knew would open the computer system. Suddenly, I was conscious of time for the first time in a long while. Trying to do what I had to quickly, with hooves not designed for it, I missed the proper switches again and again. Finally, I calmed myself and thought out my actions, then got the sequence right.
I could feel the computer link cut in: a primitive modelship’s functions, navigation, the jump math, little more. It was enough. I enlarged the energy field to cover my ship, a relatively simple affair, then matched velocities as best I could, hopefully for a ten-hour jump. Then, with a silent prayer that all were braced for the inevitable as they had been warned, I made the jump.
As ship’s sensors blanked and the bang threw me away from the control panelin my excitement I’d forgotten to braceI felt a wave of relief and ex-ultation.
We’d done it!
Battered and bruised though I was, I was in no mood to feel pain. I disregarded it, sensing no broken bones and knowing that the body would immediately begin self-repair.
My concern had been fuel. However, the registers
129
The Web of the Chozen
showed over two-thirds full. No real problem there.
After a few minutes to catch my breath, I adjusted the internal temperature and humidity more to our liking and made my way, more slowly now, back to my own ship. As I went, I reflected that I had run the distance along narrow corridors, catwalks, and the like, some strewn with metal obstacles.
I knew that a human couldn’t have made that run without tripping and breaking his neck. Choz vision was definitely superior for this sort of thing. I was still amazed at how easy the whole thing had been. Incredibly so. Maybe I was a born pirate, I thought. A pirate certainly could do a nice piece of work in an age that didn’t believe in pirates.
And, if we were lucky, if no one had seen any part of it, there was a good chance that no one would ever know what happened. There were always mechanical breakdowns of one sort or another; rarely did they result in the loss of a ship, but such things did happen.
I went back to the air lock. The two women were still trapped in the webbing. One was breathing hard, nervously. The other was sobbing softly, and she gave a low, frightened groan when I leaped over them into the bridge of my own ship.
I quickly adjusted my computer to the settings of the Nijinsky so there would be no accidents, and adjusted the energy field so that it, too, matched that of the larger ship.
George was there, looking strangely at our two prisoners. Ham .and Eve were nearby, too, quietly surveying the strange beings trapped on the deck. These were the first humans they’d ever seen.
“How are things?” I asked.
“All right, I suppose,” George responded slowly, still looking at the two women. “They screamed and struggled for some time before settling down to what you see.”
I looked at him intently. “What’s the matter, George? We did it!”
130
The Web of the Chozen
He nodded. “Yes, we did it. Somehowwell, it had to be done, and I’m glad it was done well, smoothly. Even so, I had let myself forget that we would be trapping innocent people, forcing them into captivity.”
“But, they’re humans, George!” I protested. “They’re the enemy!”
He shook his head sadly. “No, Bar, not the enemy. The system’s the enemy, not the individuals.”
I glanced over at the women. “Okay, we’ll drop them at a beacon somewhere. That make you happy?”