Victory Conditions Page 18

  “If you can figure out what’s causing the attack on implants,” their shift boss went on, “turn it off. Destroy it. Doesn’t matter how much damage you do; we can’t let these guys get the ships.” He glanced down at a datapad in his hand. “Gottlin and Pelinnha, take Dock One. Serranja and Metablos, Dock Two…” As he called the name, Miznarii at the front of the group moved up, picked up some kind of toolcase, and headed down the row to the designated docking spaces.

  Lozar, at the back of the group, went to Dock Thirty with Veenaji Pestanza, trying to remember the shift boss’ hasty instructions. Turn on the E-scanner on entry, report any anomalies, moving directly from the entry to the control nexi in the ship’s axis. Behind them trailed an insulated cable like a slick black tail: a hardened communications line supposedly proof against EC interference.

  Veenaji, nursing his damaged arm in a sling, held the hardened communications device; Lozar carried the toolcase and its probe. The probe bleeped; Veenaji turned to look. “What’s that?”

  Lozar grinned at Veenaji, and gestured for him to kill the microphone.

  “It’s proof a Miznarii worked on the ship,” he said.

  “How did you know that?” Veenaji asked.

  “I put it there,” Lozar said, feeling once more that little surge of pride. “I put them on every ship, like a seal that says, A Miznarii worked here. That it doesn’t take humods to build spaceships.”

  “Let me see,” Veenaji said. Lozar put the probe directly on the datadot and turned the screen so Veenaji could read it.

  “It doesn’t say we worked on it,” Veenaji said.

  “Of course it does,” Lozar said. “I’ve read them; our Amadh showed me.”

  “Look.”

  On the screen, instead of the pious message Lozar had seen before, lines scrolled past:…STATUS SECTION 14.3 COMPLETE, STATUS SECTION 14.4 COMPLETE, STATUS SECTION 14.5…CONTROL INITIATION CODE 112, CODE 297, CODE 410…

  “What is that?” Lozar asked. His belly clenched; he felt cold all over.

  “Nothing good,” Veenaji said. “Lozar…what did you do?”

  “I didn’t,” Lozar said, but his clammy hands told him he had. “Elder Marjee told me I should talk to our Amadh, and he said for this service to the Faithful, I would be paid a little for my trouble and the risk I was taking—”

  “But you…but this…Lozar, these things you put—how many?—they’re harming the ships!”

  “I don’t understand,” Lozar said.

  “How many?” Veenaji demanded.

  “Uh…one by the entry hatch, so the Faithful coming aboard—” The expression on Veenaji’s face stopped him. “Uh…altogether…seven. One here, one blessing…er…one on the casing for each control nexus, one on the bridge…”

  “Burn it out,” Veenaji said, his voice harsh. “Burn them all out, quickly! I can’t believe you—and they’ll think we all—Lozar, you are so…so stupid!” He yanked on the trailing cable. “I have to think how to say it so they don’t blame us all.”

  Ears burning, Lozar pushed the nozzle of the probe onto the datadot and pushed the button he’d been told to. Something cracked, and a trickle of smoke rose. He moved on into the ship, to the next site, half scared and half angry. Had the Amadh lied to him? Surely not: holy men did not lie. Had someone lied to the Amadh? That must be it. Miznarii did not lie; Miznarii did not break the law; Miznarii did not break even rules…the memory of the tab he had taken, the demonic nannites he’d put in his mouth, rose to mock that assertion.

  The probe bleeped again, this time at a cross-corridor. He had placed no datadots here. He ran the probe up the walls and found something that showed up on the screen as EMP EMITTER: STRENGTH 9.2. He wanted to ask Veenaji what to do but Veenaji had not come with him. He decided to burn it out, whatever it was. The probe found another on the other side of the passage, and then another—four in all. He burned them all. Now the screen said NO FURTHER EMP RISK. Surely that was something he should report. Maybe workers with implants could come aboard now.

  Maybe now his handcom would work. Lozar pulled it out, flicked it on, and the little light came up, bright and blue. But they hadn’t given him a code number to call; they’d just said the handcoms wouldn’t work if implants didn’t.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  H e was still wondering whether to call when he heard footsteps coming. Lots of footsteps. Veenaji at last…but when he looked, it was not Veenaji. Gerry and David and two younger men he’d seen in the Rigger’s Friend but didn’t know—all carrying tool-cases like his. “David,” he said. “Gerry—I do not think it will hurt you now; I burned out the…the EMP emitter.”

  Gerry sighed; David shook his head. “You poor stupid Mizzie bastard,” Gerry said. “You don’t even know what you’ve done.”

  “And now we’re in trouble because you’re our drinkin’ buddy,” David said. “Other guys got assigned to weapons, backup to Station Defense; they might even get to shoot at somethin’ with real actual missiles. We get stuck comin’ in here after you. By the time we get back, there won’t be any weapons positions left…”

  “Buford, take his toolcase,” Gerry said. Buford slouched forward.

  Lozar clutched the toolcase to his chest. “I didn’t mean anything bad! The Amadh said—”

  Buford spat. “Amadh! That slimeball! Bastard sold out the station—”

  Gerry put up his hand. “Buford, don’t talk trash about religion. It may not be our religion, and it may be a stupid religion to us, but Lozar takes it seriously.”

  Lozar saw sympathy in Gerry’s face; it moved him to explain. “He said it was just to show that Miznarii could build ships—at least in part—without modification. He showed me the dot readouts; they said we had worked on the ships, and that was all—”

  “But that’s not what they say now, is it? How do you think that happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Lozar said. He felt hollow inside. “I didn’t do it; that’s all I know…”

  “Are you sure the dots you placed all read the same as the one he showed you? Did you read them all?”

  Lozar stared. “I—of course not. I do not have a dot-reader at home, and I could not take the time at work. Surely you do not think the Amadh—”

  “What does it matter?” Buford said, shifting his feet. “I don’t care which Mizzie did it. Fact is, the ships’re all infected—”

  “Take it easy, Buford,” David said. “Let the man talk.”

  “Did you get the rest of ’em on this ship?” Gerry asked.

  “Not yet,” Lozar said. “My detector bleeped, and I found four EMP emitters here, at this crossway.”

  “We oughta beat the stuffin’ outta this Mizzie bastard,” Buford said. The other man, who hadn’t said anything yet, nodded, fists bunched.

  “Just hold on there, boys,” David said. “Other things’re more important right now.”

  “Come on, Lozar,” Gerry said. “Show us where those other dots are; we’ll help you burn ’em out. We’ll worry about who did what later.”

  Lozar set off toward the core control nexi, very aware of the four big determined men behind him. He could hear Gerry and David both muttering into handcoms. He felt worse and worse. He could imagine what Jari would say; he could imagine the betrothal dissolving, his poor daughter remaining unmarried for life because of her father’s disgrace. Worse, he could imagine the anger of the non-Miznarii, so obvious in Buford…his family abused, even killed, because of what he’d done.

  When they arrived at the central core of the ship, he saw that bulkhead panels now covered the nexus pod covers where he’d put the datadots; they had to pop each panel off and then locate the dots with the probes.

  “We ought to strip these messages,” David said. “Have a record of what it said.”

  “Why?” Buford asked. “Faster we scorch ’em, sooner we can get back—”

  “Maybe it’ll help on the other ships,” Gerry said. “Just a few seconds can’t hurt.” H
e plugged a dot-reader onto the dot, and his handcom into the dot-reader. “I’ve got it going straight to Security. Lozar, show Buford the next one.”

  Grumbling, Buford did the same as Gerry. “Go on,” he said. “Take Bub here to the next.”

  They were halfway through burning the nexus dots when a mechanical voice announced: “Seals closing in five…four…three…”

  “What?” David whirled to look at Lozar. “What’d you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything…I’m just standing here—”

  “Seals closed…secured…”

  Down the passage, Gerry and the other two came running. “What’d you do—what happened?”

  “Nothing,” David said. “Ship sealed itself, I reckon. Or someone at dockside did it.”

  “Worst case, whatever was going on finished and now the bad guys have control—”

  “The bridge,” David said. “We’ve got to get to the bridge.” He looked at Buford and Bubba. “You two—you know where to look for the nexus datadots now. Keep going. We’re takin’ Lozar to the bridge.”

  The ship shuddered. David and Gerry looked at each other. “Now,” Gerry said. “C’mon, Lozar.”

  They ran upship, taking the direct route along the core, past the CCC, past the environmental tanks, past the mounts for the forward weapons. David smacked the controls for the personnel uptube, but Gerry shook his head. “I don’t trust any of that now,” he said. “Whoever’s doing this has to know we’ve burned some dots; they know someone’s inside. They could trap us…”

  “And we don’t have our full kits, right.” They turned away from the uptube and went up a ladder. Suddenly the ship seemed to lurch, and Lozar’s feet lifted off the rungs. Above him, Gerry seemed to be lying on air.

  “Oh, bugger,” David said from behind him. “They’re playing with the artificial gravity. Lucky if they don’t hit us with hypergrav in a few seconds…hold on with something…”

  They’d made it to the deck below the bridge when gravity returned as suddenly as it had disappeared. Lozar slipped and landed hard on the deck. David and Gerry merely staggered. “Here,” Gerry said, offering Lozar a hand up. “Implant compensators…too bad you don’t have one.”

  “The other ships?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” David said. “When the ship sealed, we lost contact. If it’s launched itself—”

  Lozar made the connection himself. A sealed ship ran on its own internal power, or had none. The lights were on; air moved out of the ventilation grilles they passed. So at least the insystem drive was up, and that meant…that could mean…they were out in space, undocked, going…who knew where?

  “We told ’em what we found here,” Gerry said. “Veenaji had already reported on the datadots and how many, and some of the other teams had found dots on the other ships—I heard that dockside—so maybe they were disabled elsewhere faster, and those ships are safe…”

  “We aren’t safe,” Lozar whispered.

  “No, but we also aren’t bored,” David said. “Whatever you say about today, it’s not the same old same old.” He grinned at Gerry. “Remember that old story I told you about in Rigger’s last week?”

  Gerry scowled. “If you mean that grandstander talking about a good day to die—”

  David spread his hands. “What else? And if it has to be—”

  “Death in the protection of true humanity is a great boon,” Lozar offered.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it a boon,” David said, starting up the last ladder; they should come out in the bridge vestibule. “But if you hafta die, you might as well find a reason in it.”

  “My wife is not going to be happy about this,” Gerry said. “Shari’s told me time and again not to get mixed up in any dare-devil stuff.”

  “You didn’t exactly ask for it,” David said. Lozar knew that David’s wife had died seven years before; he himself had never met the woman, but from everything he’d heard she’d been as good a wife as an unbeliever could be. “She’ll forgive you.”

  Gerry shook his head. Lozar thought of his own wife again with a pang of guilt. Would Jari forgive him? Would his daughters and his in-laws? Would the Almighty?

  Then they were on to the bridge deck, in the little vestibule, and the bridge hatch itself was still open.

  “Where’s the dot up here, Lozar?”

  Lozar looked around. A lot more had been fitted into this space than bulkheads…communications equipment, seats for future crew covered with protective wrap, connectors for equipment that hadn’t been installed yet. The entire vestibule had been open then.

  “I—I’m not sure.”

  “Probe should find it,” David said, waving his around. “There…”

  Gerry had moved past David and now entered the silent bridge, about half its displays lit. In the center, a holo model of the station seemed to float in midair, little bright shapes around it.

  “Lookit that,” David said. He had burned the last dot, and now hung over the waist-high railing with Gerry. “That’s the station…and where are we? Oh.”

  One tiny shape wore a gold halo. David pointed at it.

  “Bugger,” Gerry said. “We’re undocked.”

  Lozar looked around. He had never been on the bridge of a completed ship before. So many displays, so many instruments, so many chairs. On storycubes, bridge crews mostly consisted of a captain seated in a big fancy chair. Like that one…Lozar went closer. Under the protective wrap, he could see a thin wand in its sleeve. He knew at once what it was: the command wand, famous in so many storycubes for breaking, failing, or falling into the wrong hands. For an instant, he had a fantasy of picking it up, sitting in that chair, and…and what? Saving the ship? Saving the station? What would the Almighty want him to do? Only those with implants could work ship controls, he’d always been told.

  “Gerry? David?” He hated the way his voice wavered.

  They turned. “I found the captain’s chair,” Lozar said.

  “Won’t do us much good,” Gerry said. “None of us knows squat about running a ship.”

  “We can try,” David said. He ripped off the protective cover. “Look, here’s the thingie—”

  “David, you aren’t serious—”

  “Gerry, we’re on a warship out in space with no trained crew, and the bad guys are running the ship. Sounds like a time for initiative to me.”

  “You read too many of those old books,” Gerry said.

  David was already in the seat; with his weight on the cushion, status lights in the armrest came on, and a screen rose out of the deck to position itself in front of him. “This is even better than the holosim,” he said. “Watch this—” He slid the command wand out of its sheath. “There’s gotta be a slot around here someplace.”

  “David, I don’t think you should—”

  “Aha!” David pushed the wand into a slot in the console.

  AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED appeared on the screen. INPUT LICENSE NUMBER WITHOUT PUNCTUATION.

  “Damn,” David said. “I don’t have a captain’s license.”

  “Told you,” Gerry said.

  “But I do have a trade license…let’s see.” David stuck out his tongue, concentrating, and entered a long numeric string.

  “It won’t work,” Gerry said. Lozar agreed silently. A Rigger One license wasn’t a captain’s license…

  The screen flickered briefly, then WELCOME ABOARD CAPTAIN DAVID R. WATSON. CAPTAIN ON DECK. CAPTAIN’S ORDERS TAKE PRECEDENCE.

  “Told you back,” David said. “It doesn’t know one license from another; it just needs numbers.”

  “David, you aren’t a captain…you don’t know—”

  “I am now,” David said, grinning. “Would you look at that!” The display in front of him had a menu of choices, including ARM WEAPONS and RAISE SHIELDS. He touched RAISE SHIELDS, and other screens around the bridge came alive. “Gerry, get over there—” He pointed. “That chair. You’re going to be my weapons officer—”

 
“David, you’re crazy. I don’t know anything about—”

  “The ship doesn’t know that. Lozar, I don’t want you near any weapons, but I need someone on drives. That’s…lemme see…over there.”

  Lozar went to the seat David had indicated. His mind whirled uselessly, like a child’s holiday top. David wasn’t a ship captain. Gerry wasn’t a weapons expert, and anyway the ship’s weapons hadn’t been mounted yet.

  “Hey, Gerry!” came a hail from the passage. “You’ll never guess what we found—” Buford strode onto the bridge. “Oh, wow! Lookit this! It’s like a storycube only better!”

  “I am the captain, I am the captain!” David half sang, laughing. “The shipbrain accepted my trade license, can you believe? Boys, we got us a real spaceship!”

  “What we’ve got is a real mess,” Gerry said from the other side of the bridge. “David, you have gone plumb off your rocker. We’re stuck on a ship none of us knows how to use, and it’s controlled by whoever’s invaded us…”

  “It’s not,” David said. “You saw that message. Captain’s aboard, captain’s orders take precedence.”

  “Never mind that,” Buford said. “We found the weapons.”

  “What weapons?”

  “Well, they look like weapons. The ones in the storycubes. There’s one of those big long things with power warning stickers all over it. The mounts at this end of the ship are empty, but at the back—”

  “Where’s Bubba?”

  “I’m here, Uncle Gerry. I went lookin’ for more weapons and found racks of these long tube things, and some holes to put them in—I’ll bet they’re missiles.”

  “Don’t touch those,” Gerry said. Lozar saw the look that passed from Buford to Bubba.

  “Er…Uncle Gerry…we kind of already did, sort of.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Well…we thought if they were missiles, then they ought to be in the missile tubes where we could fire ’em. And Buford sort of thought he’d see if the missile control station was active—”

  “And?”

  “It wanted some kind of ID,” Buford said. “So I input my station ID, and that did it.”