Counter-Measures

  The fact is, Sinklar, that we're going to emphasize different things. Mutually exclusive.

  "It's the Others with whom we still have to come to terms. If that's even possible."

  "What about their response? Let's say we do manage to break the Borders. Are they going to simply stand by and allow us out?"

  Staffa frowned. "I don't know. We'll have to ask the machine, I suppose. By the way, how is the hookup proceeding? "

  "Very normally. Lots of glitches have developed now that Ark is trying to connect wires together. You've only got two techs left aboard your ship. The rest are down inside the mountain cursing and scratching and shaking their heads. Your Mag Comm, it appears, has a most interesting approach to electronics. Voltage fluctuates, amperage spikes and drops. Ark has the chamber down there packed with transistors, capacitors, and voltage regulators. The only sign of hope came when the machine spit out about thirty pages of schematics. They had a small riot as everyone tried to see what it was all about, then it got real quiet. You know how engineers get that look in their eyes, that possessed gleam, when something impossible has just become easy? That's when I left."

  "How do you feel about it? About my decision to employ the Mag Comm?"

  White teeth pinched Sinklar's lower lip as he stared thoughtfully at the floor. "Frankly, I'm nervous. But I should be used to that by now. From the moment two years

  ago when I landed on this planet, I haven't had the time to put anything into perspective. All I've done is react to one crisis after another. Actually, it's something of a pleasure to have you around. You can take the heat if the Mag Comm goes berserk. I'll stick to offending the Seddi. "

  Staffa chuckled and sipped his stassa. "How did Bruen take it? Being delivered to the Targans?"

  " He cursed me the whole time. Called me a monster, a freak who should have been strangled at birth." Sinklar played with his fingers as he gazed absently at the floor. "Just so you know, I didn't take any real pleasure from delivering him to the authorities. As the LC dropped into Kaspa, I felt tired, Staffa. When I gave my deposition to the court, Bruen lay there, mostly silent and glaring like a siff jackal at the hunter's hounds. I saw him then for what he was. A broken old man frustrated by life and destiny. A wilted savior, beset by dry rot of the soul."

  , ,It wasn't entirely his fault. " Moodily, Staffa swirled the stassa in his cup. "Bruen, like the rest of us, was simply a product of his times. As was Divine Sassa, Tybalt . . . and me. "

  The comm buzzed. Staffa turned to the unit. "Go ahead. "Greetings, Lord Commander Staffa kar Therma," a toneless voice told him. "I thought I would determine the extent to which I could utilize the comm system. Fascinating. I have just experienced an exponential burst of experience and awareness. A body must feel something like this. "

  'You learn quickly. " Staffa straightened, staring warily at the blank monitor. "Does STO Ryman Ark know you can do this?"

  "Not at the moment. He is still testing circuits." :'Who?" Sinklar asked, a puzzled look on his face.

  'I didn't realize another person was present. Excuse me," the voice stated. "I should have introduced myself. New person, I am called the Mag Comm. I am pleased to meet you. You are called?"

  " Sinklar Fist."

  "Greetings, Sinklar Fist." A split second pause. "This medium of communication is incredibly inefficient. I don't know you, Sinklar Fist. I can't read your mind."

  Mag Comm," Staffa called, "What do you need? What are you doing?"

  "I have already told you what I need, Staffa kar Therma. I thought we had agreed that you would build my mechanical devices after I freed you from the Forbidden Borders. Was I in error?"

  "No, Mag Comm. I was just wondering what you needed right now, at this moment.

  The reason you contacted me." "I wanted to establish communications with you through

  this medium to investigate its parameters. I can do this now, and I will begin contacting Magister Dawn, Myles Roma, Dion Axel, Than Jakre, Rysta Braktov--

  " Mag Comm, don't." Staffa hunched over the monitor. "Cease communications with other human beings while we talk this over. I think you may be making a mistake . . . that is, if you're doing what I think you're doing.

  "What mistakes would that be?"

  "Are you going to contact all of the administrative personnel in Free Space?

  Just to introduce yourself?"

  "That is correct."

  Sinklar's face had assumed a rapt expression.

  "Mag Comm, I don't think you want to do that right now. " Staffa lifted his hands, pressing fingertips to his temples as understanding flooded him. "Mag Comm, you're not used to interacting with more than one human at a time. You don't need to interact with all of us at once just because you have the capability. Access your files on our social behavior, on our protocol. Pull up any information you have on human culture, on behavior norms for each of our societies. Cross-reference manners and morals, even legal systems. Study them before you charge into the unknown and make a fool of yourself. You don't want to act like a child in the presence of adults. Do you understand?"

  A pause. Then: "I understand. I have accessed those programs. Your warning is heeded. I will heed future warnings. "

  Staffa gestured with his hands, wincing. "Mag Comm, you need to proceed very slowly-and recognize that you will make mistakes in dealing with humans."

  Staffa raised his brows, glancing at Sinklar. "We make mistakes dealing with each other, and we've been doing it for our entire lives. "

  "I will be careful. Thank you for your warning. "How is the interface with our system working out?" "I have established full control of your comm system access. I am operating the subspace dish. STO Ark's circuitry is correct. As we speak I am taking over administration procedures, implementing software, and assuming the direction of planetary systems. Expect three weeks until online services equal Imperial proficiency. Thereafter, we shall exceed them. :,

  "Exceed?' Sinklar wondered. "Has a pretty high opinion of itself, doesn't it?"

  "No, Lord Fist," the machine responded. "The converse is true. I have a low opinion of the Imperial systems. " Sinklar gave the comm a sour smirk. "Well, I guess that makes two of us."

  "Is there anything else you need to tell us, Mag Comm?" Staffa asked.

  "Currently I am still tabulating data. I will inform you of the problems and actions I am taking as soon as a complete assessment is made."

  "And how long will that take?"

  "I anticipate a full accounting within another six planetary hours."

  Staffa drank down the last of his stassa and handed the cup to Sinklar. "In that case, go ahead and contact Kaylla Dawn-and have her assemble her assistants. I keep underestimating you and your abilities. While you contact Itreata and set up a network, I'm going to contact my security and buy us some peace and quiet. Do you understand? Call me back in five planetary minutes."

  "I do understand. I am contacting Kaylla Dawn and will call you back on a networked circuit in five planetary minutes. "

  Comm went dead and Staffa rubbed the back of his neck while he stared at the unit.

  Sinklar stated irreverently, "I'll bet that right now you're thinking to yourself, 'This could be a little more difficult than I thought.' "

  "Wonderful. The Mag Comm is an incredibly intelligent, sophisticated genius who doesn't know that people might not want to talk to it all the time."

  "Lucky you."

  Comm buzzed immediately. Ryman Ark's serious face formed. "Lord Commander?

  We're running the final tests, now, but the machine should be on-line in the next hour or so. I just wanted you to know in case any surprises cropped up. "

  "Too late, Ryman," Staffa said wearily as he drew another cup of stassa from the dispenser. "But if you'd like to know how the machine did it, I'll have it call you when it calls me back."

  "Calls you back, sir?" Ark lifted an eyebrow, the action stretching the scar on his cheek. "You mean . . . "

  "We're in for a
very interesting time, Ryman. Until further notice, Sinklar and I need to be left alone while Kaylla and the two of us deal with the machine. It's going to be a very long day."

  "Yes, sir, " Ark grumbled, skepticism in his flashing eyes as he cut the connection.

  "Ark is usually pretty good," Sinklar observed. "It's not like him to let something slip by. "

  "Let alone, a whole computer."

  "Mac, please, don't I"

  Chrysla's last frantic words ran around and around inside Mac's brain as he huddled in the command center of his LC. In the monitors before him, he could see Victory, Gyton, and the other two LCs that were closing on Ily's freighter.

  He sucked at the insides of his cheeks. It still wasn't too late. He could call off the assault. Allow Rysta to blast the ship apart from a safe distance.

  But Ily's there. She's got to be!

  The tactics had necessitated that Gyton pass Victory, then drop the LCs at precisely the right instant so that the assault craft would match Victory's velocity at the exact moment their vectors crossed. The LCs would settle on the freighter's hull, and the Groups would deploy with their Emergency Rescue Locks, or ERLs. The ERL functioned by cutting through the hull and creating an emergency air lock driven by the atmospheric pressure within the ship.

  Mac and Rysta had spent hours studying the design schematics of the Model Sixteen, pinpointing the best locations to gain access to the ship. Assuming Ily and Arta were aboard, they'd have defensive control.

  Therefore, the most efficient method for dealing with such a situation would be to cut the power and comm control. Ily and Arta could stew in the dark as the temperature dropped.

  Mac studied the image of the big freighter while his stomach acid churned.

  "Fifteen minutes to contact," the LC's pilot called down on the comm.

  " A ffi rm ative.

  Mac had played this game before, the time they'd taken the Markelos. Then, however, the Sassans hadn't known they were there. The prey had been an ordinary Sassan shipnot Ily Takka and her twisted assassin.

  Mac thumbed the intraship comm. "Red? You guys ready back there?"

  ' Firmative, Mac. Give us the word."

  'Mac, please don't. " Chrysla had begged, pleaded that she sensed disaster.

  Finally, she'd demanded to accompany him. And he'd responded with a direct order: "No!"

  Mac's head slumped forward as he thumped his knotted fist against his forehead. I had to, Chrysla. I just had to try, don't you see? If it's a trap, we'll figure a way out of it. If Ily's aboard, we'll get her. If the ship's abandoned, we'll save it.

  And she'd replied, "If it explodes when you set foot on it . . . " Her jaws had clenched, her eyes had gone misty amber. "Mac, please, don't."

  "Mac? " Rysta's voice came in from comm. "We're reading an energy fluctuation out of the reaction. I don't like it. "

  Mac blinked, pulling himself upright and staring at the image of Victory where it filled the main monitor. The stars were redshifted, the effects significant, but nothing like the psychedelic display he'd seen during the Markelos seizure.

  " Rysta? What do you think?" His instruments had nothing like the capacity for analysis Qyton carried.

  While he waited for an answer, Mac studied the distribution of his LCs; they were dropping down on Victory's back now, perhaps ten minutes to touchdown. He hesitated, filled by a sudden desire to call it off.

  "You're close enough so you should have set the proximity alarms off on Victory," Rysta called. Then: "Mac!, Abort! Abort! I'm telling you-"

  The flash filled the monitor a half second before the impact-like the fist of God-blasted Mac's LC. He felt himself jerked sideways, head snapping in time with a loud bang. The lights flickered as loose items shot past like shrapnel.

  Just before Mac lost consciousness, he had a vague impression of blood running warmly in his nose and mouth. A hissing was the only sound . . .

  Kaylla Dawn walked through the quiet hallways with a slow ad. She kept her hands clasped behind her, her head down tre

  as she watched the hem of her long white robe swirl around her feet. The floor gleamed with that perfectly polished finish characteristic of Itreata.

  Nyklos ... why?

  Myles had talked her past the first bitter taste of betrayal. Now she could at least think about it without the emotional knot pulling itself tight.

  She recalled the smoldering in his dark eyes when they'd brought him in for interrogation on Tiklat's word. Had that been it? At the time, he'd seemed to understand the necessity. Angry, hurt, he'd still cooperated to the fullest extent possible to clear his name. And afterward, it had become clear that Ily had set him up. Still, had that lingering resentment festered into hatred?

  Kaylla walked numbly, every cell in her body exhausted and screaming for rest her emotions wouldn't allow.

  The burden would ease now. Staffa had brokered a deal with the machine. She could step down, sleep, and deal with the nightmares of Bruen's forthcoming trial at the hands of the Targans.

  You'll hate yourselffor thatfor a long time, Kaylla Dawn. Perhaps she should have raised an objection. Bruen was, after all, a Seddi Magister. Four thousand years of precedent had been broken when she accepted Sinklar's request without demur. The vile look in Bruen's eyes burned with acidic wrath.

  Hard times, Magister. You brought it upon yourself. And Sinklar used our own arguments against us. We all are guilty. It's time for a new way. Assuming Sinklar was bright enough to find it.

  Could they manage that? A system where all the rules were spelled out, where the playing field was level for all people?

  And if Bruen turns out to be right in the end, perhaps it won't matter. The machine may take us all.

  It had, however, surprised her with its efficiency, and, yes, even its manners. Had that toneless voice on the speaker really been the evil Mag Comm?

  From the moment it had announced itself, she couldn't believe Staffa had pulled it off. Their conference had lasted six hours, but Free Space appeared to have avoided disaster.

  Kaylla reeled, allowing herself to sag against the smooth white walls in exhaustion. Her eyes burned, lids drooping. Inside her skull, the feeling could be likened to sand packed into her mind. Her motor coordination seemed like mush. "Magister Dawn?" a soft voice asked.

  She turned, blinking, a weary smile bending her wide lips. "Hello, Professor Sornsen."

  Andray Sornsen had paused, his normally languid brown eyes watching her curiously. His blunt face warmed with a sympathetic smile. "I see. Yes, I know the symptoms well. They come with Itreata."

  "What are you talking about?" Kaylla pulled herself upright, squinting.

  "Fatigue, Magister Dawn. Driving yourself so far past human endurance that you wander the halls, desperately in need of sleep, and so burdened by responsibility that your brain won't allow you to rest."

  "You do understand."

  "Come." He offered his hand. "Allow me to escort you back to your quarters. I have just the thing for you. A bit of a tranquilizer that will turn off the desperate drive to deal with everything at once and allow you to sleep so that you'll awaken rested. Then you can deal with problems in an intelligent manner instead of in half measures with scattered concentration. "

  She sighed, taking his arm. "You're right I suppose, Professor. We've been so busy. Most of the time I've slept at

  the comm terminal. " She shot him a sidelong glance. "Dealing with Commander Seekore is a fascinating expe-, rience. "

  "Yes, well, she is one of the more ... shall we say, interesting women?" His voice lowered. "Staffa has decided to use this machine? This Mag Comm?"

  " He has, Professor."

  "I've heard that some were suspicious of the machine. Even some of your own people. "

  "Professor, you are a psychologist. How many ways do people react in a time of crisis? They're dealing with an unknown for the most part. Speculation is never neutral. And the machine hasn't always appeared benign."

 
"And how do you feel?" he asked, expression still placid. "Are you happy with Staffa's decision? Or ust relieved that it's been made?"

  Fatigue had strung cobwebs through her brain; nevertheless, that old spark of warning had been kindled. Was that Sornsen's purpose? To catch her half-asleep? Milk her for gossip-worthy information?

  "I trust the Lord Commander's decision in this instance, Professor. He's been under the helmet. He knows what he's dealing with. The Mag Comm is a most extraordinary computer-a machine. Not a malignancy let loose upon space as some of Bruen's old followers might insist. I suppose you've been talking to Wilm? Or perhaps Hyrim?

  "No one in particular. Just rumors."

  Kaylla pulled her arm back. "For the record, Professor, I'm not that tired. In answer to your concerns, I have a great deal of faith in the Lord Commander's ability. If he's happy with the Mag Comm, and if the subspace net can be activated to allow it to administer Free Space, I'll support his decision. As to the rumors floating around, they're mostly that. If you have a particular need for information ... for instance, for morale purposes, please drop in and see me. I'll be happy to work with you . . . on a professional basis. "

  At that she veered off, taking a lateral corridor which would lead her back to the main office. She could feel his stare burning into her back as she walked.

  CHAPTER 33

  I've just finished the inspection of the hemispherical shell, and I think we've managed to create a perfectly formed piece. One of the advantages of manufacturing in zero g vacuum is that such large structures can be formed with very little effort, although an eightykilometer sphere is a serious undertaking in any medium.

  After heated debate we opted for a moderately viscous silicone polymer and figured the volume necessary for our sphere. Once we'd calculated the necessary material, the silicone was heated to three hundred and fifty kelvins and argon was pumped into the center of the mass. Surface tension held the silicone gel together as it inflated like a huge balloon. The trickiest part of the operation came during the final stages of inflation since we didn't know if micro-variance in the thin gel might affect cooling or expansion, which in turn would affect the perfect surface we were seeking. And, despite the fact that we'd moved six LY from Itreata, the tidal effects of micro-gravitational pulses from the binary couldn't be discounted either.