ARC: Under Nameless Stars (20 page)

TWENTY-THREE

One of the most technically advanced and luxurious private starships ever commissioned, the
Symmetry Dancer
had belonged to a succession of wealthy humans and Asents: a trillionaire Alcyon syn-gen inventor, several mega-star entertainers, one best-selling blink-nov writer and an Oortish mine-owner-turned-politician – who was currently learning about life in the penal colony on Titan after some rather serious computational errors in his tax returns. Just before the starship vanished a year and a half ago, the
Dancer
was purchased by the royal family of the Leukkan Kire. The Kiran ambassador to the Accord was aboard when it was taken, and the Kire’s king and queen had offered a small planetoid as reward for his safe return. The reward was never claimed.

After allowing a few minutes for them all to rest and recover, Treth came back from her short recon trip to give them the bad news: the door leading into the interior of the
Dancer
was code-locked.

“Locked, yes,” Charlie said, brandishing his twine at the Groom as he shuffled up to the door. “Knew it would be.”

“You knew?” Treth said as the Loepith pulled an access panel off the wall and peered into the hole.

“Been here before, haven’t I?” He poked at his sleeve screen, then brought it up close to face, squinting at it.

“Charlie,” Treth said, “we need to get inside. Quickly.”

“Need to find the numbers, don’t I?” Charlie told her, not looking up. “Need the code. For the door. Not all here, though, is it?” He frowned at the sleeve screen read out. “Only a part left. The heat in that ship. Did some damage.”

He went to the door and typed with one finger at the keypad.

“Might remember the missing bits, though. Maybe.” He had barely spoken the words when a bell-like tone rang out, followed by a soft, lilting voice that seemed to come out of the air around them.

“Charlieee…” the voice said. It sounded happy.

“Oh no…” Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Lost data, lost too much. Didn’t mean to do that.”

“What just happened?” Treth asked.

“Made a mistake, didn’t I?” Charlie moaned, and covered his face with his hands, rocking back and forth. On the floor next to Zenn, Katie looked around apprehensively.

“What did you do?” Liam said. “Was it bad?”

“Charlieee.” The voice spoke again, sultry, female, emanating from nowhere. Then Zenn saw it, saw her, standing in the center of the room – which a second ago had been empty. “You’ve come back,” the voice said. “I’m so pleased to see you.”

The owner of the voice was a beautiful… no, a ravishing human female with intricately styled auburn hair and a slinky, very expensive-looking optiweave evening gown.

Seeing the apparition suddenly appear, Katie puffed up her tail fur and blended out of sight.

“I knew you’d come back,” the beautiful woman said, then bent to take Charlie’s whiskered chin into her hand.

“Awww, no, no…” he muttered miserably. Then, as Zenn and the others watched, the beautiful woman seemed to melt, turning transparent with a short burst of static. When she came back into focus, she was no longer a human woman. She had become a Loepith; a female Loepith, Zenn thought, by the body build and lack of facial whiskers. She wore a uniform similar to Charlie’s but new and spotless.

“Did you think I’d forget?” The shape had altered, but the newly appeared Loepith continued to speak to Charlie with the husky tones of the human seductress she had been moments before. It made for a strange combination.

“Did you see this event?” Jules said. “She changed entire.”

“It’s a holo-projection, Jules,” Zenn said, moving in to get a closer look. Katie reappeared next to Zenn, apparently reassured it was safe. She sniffed at the apparition but, smelling nothing, became suspicious again, her fur rising.

“Not a holo. Worse,” Charlie said. “A simstriss. The
Dancer’s
simstriss.”

“They’re an advanced AI construct,” Treth said. “Used onboard the higher-grade ships. Charlie, she seems to know you. How is this?”

“From before,” Charlie whined as he sat down despondently on the floor. “Been through it all before, haven’t I? Now I’m back in it. Bad luck, bad and worse.” As he spoke, the simulated Loepith sat down next to him and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Charlieee…” The sim-Loepith purred, looking at him with what could only be described as adoration. “I was so hoping you’d return. I’ve been quite bored without you. The
Dancer
is so very lonely without my usual quota of guests to attend to. And, I must remind you, you promised to stay. When you left me, I was so bored and lonely with not a soul to take care of. But it doesn’t matter. You’re back now.” She hugged him to her. He squinted his eyes shut.

“These simstriss types,” Jules said, “do they always change in this way? As you look at them? It is disconcerting.”

“They read the bio-signature of the species they interact with,” Treth said, “then assume the most suitable appearance.”

“Truly?” Jules asked. “Hello,” he said, leaning down toward Charlie and the sim-Loepith at his side. “My name is Jules V Vancouver. What is your name? Testing. Testing.”

The simstriss tilted her face up toward Jules and, after a brief fadeout, resolved herself into a dolphin that lifted into the air. The walksuit that materialized around the sim-dolphin was like Jules’s rig, only sleeker and newer.
“My name is Lu, Guest Services Agent and Hospitality Specialist Zero-slash-delta-delta,” the sim-dolphin said, the voice still unchanged. “Welcome aboard the
Symmetry Dancer
, Guest Vancouver. I do hope you and your companions will be with us for our entire voyage. However, I must admit I have not been informed of our destination. I’m sure this information will be forthcoming soon. In the meantime, if there is anything I can do to make your time on board more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Yes, Lu, there is one thing,” Treth said, stepping between Jules and the sim. “We would like to exit this holding area and enter the ship. Can you assist us with that?”

“For your safety, this holding area has been locked,” Lu said pleasantly. As she spoke, she transformed into a Procyoni groom, complete with intricate anitats and face piercings like Treth’s but with a cascade of dark brown hair falling across her shoulders.

“Can you unlock it? Please.”

“I regret to inform the guest that this holding area must remain secured until authorized ship’s officers arrive,” the sim-groom said. “May I offer you refreshments while we wait? Tea? Coffee? Kipfruit gelato?”

Zenn’s mouth watered at the mention of iced kipfruit. Treth ignored the offer.

“Ship’s officers? Do you mean the Khurspex?”

“Yes, the Khurspex code-admins. They are en route now. Estimated shuttle arrival time is fifteen minutes. I’m sure they will be able to answer all your questions.”

“We should leave this place,” Jules said. “Those Khurspex will come. They will not treat us nicely.”

“Can we go back into the crusher?” Liam said.

“No,” Treth said flatly, unbuckling the scrim-field generator and dropping it to the deck. “The power cells are depleted.”

“Charlieee,” the simstriss looked at Charlie and was once more a Loepith. “You must not leave again. Being here without you, it’s simply not to be endured. You will stay this time? I so hope you will stay.”

Charlie looked up pitifully at Zenn and the others, then lowered his face into his hands again.

“Lu,” Treth said. “I am Treth Loreth Shansdaughter, Stonehorse Groom, LSA starliner
Helen of Troy
. I order you to open the code-locked door.”

“I am so sorry to remind the guest that this holding area must remain secured until authorized ship’s officers arrive,” the simstriss repeated, smiling. “May I offer you–”

“This construct is obviously malfunctioning,” Treth said, “to ignore the direct command of a union groom.”

“Been tampered with,” Charlie said miserably. “Had to make adjustments the last time, didn’t I? To get through.”

“What kind of adjustments?” Treth asked.

“Minor, so I thought. Spex had the
Dancer
all sewn up tight so no one could pass. Fiddled the simstriss config-sys to breach the lockdown protocol. And so, the sim, it… Well, then, as you see, it… attached itself.”

“What?” Liam said, peering at the simstriss. “You saying this thing fell in love with you?”

“Love? With me? Well, then… How could it be…” Charlie’s voice trailed off into a mutter.

“Our Charlie’s a lady’s man,” Liam laughed, catching Zenn’s eye. She laughed too and

realized this was something she hadn’t done in quite some time.

“You altered it once, Charlie,” Treth said. “Can you do so again?”

“Not so easy,” Charlie said “Lost my data. Wrong code changes could crash it all down. Crash ship’s systems. Life support, too. Bad luck for all of us in here.”

Treth was silent for a moment, then went to stand over Charlie and the simstriss. “Lu, I know this is a hard thing for you, but… Charlie wants to leave.”

“This would be unfortunate. I am afraid it simply cannot be allowed.” The simstriss hugged him closer. “You do not wish to leave me, do you, Charlie?”

“Uhh…” Charlie looked at Treth, who nodded at him. “Yes? Yes. I’m afraid I might.”

“But I don’t want you to leave, Charlie. The boredom. No one to care for. Please, you simply mustn’t.” She looked up at Treth. “We regret to inform you it cannot be allowed.”

“We understand your situation, Lu,” Treth said, speaking quickly. “And I have a proposition. Would you be willing to let the rest of us proceed into the
Dancer
… if Charlie promised to stay?”

“Treth,” Zenn couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Lu?” Treth ignored Zenn’s protest.

“You would promise to stay with me?” Lu asked, the expression on her Loepith face hopeful and wide-eyed. “You would stay forever? To be my one and only guest? I would see to your every requirement.”

Charlie looked from Treth to Zenn and back, his eyes almost rolling in his head.

“I… would promise,” he said, his entire body seeming to shrink into itself at the prospect.

Loepith-Lu smiled a wide, brown-toothed grin. “Yes! He promises.” Standing up to address Treth, Lu was once again the brown-haired Procyoni groom. “Central hatchway deck 3 is now unlocked for guest boarding. Welcome, and have a pleasant journey aboard the
Symmetry Dancer
. Please watch your step.”

“Treth, no.” Zenn was gripped by helpless rage. They couldn’t leave him. Not after all he’d done to help them. The Groom took Zenn by the shoulders and propelled her toward the doorway that now stood open.

“No arguments, Novice. We must go.” Treth fixed her eyes on Zenn. “We must, if we are to have any hope of helping all the others.”

Jules looked at Charlie uncertainly, then went to the doorway. Zenn knew Treth was right; this was their only choice, to get away, to help the others, to somehow make it to the
Delphic Queen
and find her father.

“Treth,” she said, desperate.

“You must trust me, Novice,” Treth said quietly, guiding Zenn through the doorway.

Lu draped her lanky Loepith arms around Charlie. At the doorway, Treth turned.

“Charlie?” He looked up at her hopelessly. Then, in one swift motion, Treth plunged her hand into the guts of the open control panel next to the door and yanked out a tangled, sparking wad of wires. A starburst of light bathed the room and the body of Lu-Loepith went white with static and vanished. “Run!” Treth yelled at Charlie.

“No! Not good,” he yelped, leaping to his feet, holding his head in both hands and doing a little jig of distress. “She’ll be mad now. Memware’s not stable. She’ll be dangerous mad.”

“Too bad,” Treth covered the distance to Charlie in three strides, grabbed him by the rags of his uniform and propelled him ahead of her through the door. “Everybody move, into the ship! The sim will reconstitute. We don’t want to be on board when she does.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“How long before the sim comes back?” Liam asked anxiously, running alongside Treth as they all raced through the
Dancer’s
tidy, well-lit corridors; apparently, the ship’s auto-maintenance systems were all still fully functional.

“Uncertain,” Treth said. “Ten minutes? Five?”

“Five?” Charlie squeaked. “Maybe less. And then a mad, mad Lu.” Some of the cabin doors they passed stood open, and as they passed, Zenn looked longingly at their sumptuous furnishings, their large, inviting bunks, their soft mattresses, pristine white sheets. They dashed by a dining saloon, tables still draped with spotless linens; she imagined the wonderful food that must be stacked on the galley’s shelves. Her stomach protested. How long was it since she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.

They were all gasping for breath by the time they reached the airlock leading to the
Benthic Tson
.

“Well, Groom,” Liam said, bent over, sucking in air, hands on his knees. “Anything up your sleeve for getting through this ship? Got some spare gills on ya?”

Treth activated a monitor screen on the wall. “All waterships of this class are equipped with auxiliary service craft,” she said. “Pressurized submersibles for maintenance and emergencies.”

“There’s a submarine?” Liam said.

Zenn noticed the look of concern on Treth’s face as she frowned at the screen. “Treth? What is it?”

“There is a problem,” Treth said, dialing up another image on the monitor.

They all moved in to see what the Groom was seeing on the screen. It was a murky underwater cam shot of a small, bulbous craft suspended in a circle of gloomy green illumination. The service sub sprouted numerous utility arms and sensors from its dull yellow hull, and a thick cable could be seen running from the craft to the nearest bulkhead.

“The sub is moored near the opposite airlock. It is not responding to commands. Charlie?”

“You can repair it, perhaps?” Jules said, moving closer to look at the screen. “Maybe it is a fuse thing? Or it needs further computer input?”

Charlie poked tentatively at the screen’s keypad. “Won’t respond. Not from here.”

“But what do we do, then?” Jules’s voice had risen in pitch. “How do we get through the quantity of water inside the ship?”

“Charlie, is the service sub’s interior still pressurized?”

Charlie punched up a schematic image. “Yes. But it will not detach from its mooring. Command link is dead.”
“Won’t be much help to us all the way over there, huh?” Liam said.

“Charlie, can you go around the direct command system, bounce a signal to the sub off the
Tson’s
exterior com dish?” Treth asked.

“I suppose I can.” He brought up a virtual keyboard that floated in the air before him and began typing, using his two index fingers. “But it will need two bounces, won’t it? The signal, that is, bouncing it off the secondary com dish. Spex might notice that bounce.”

“We’ve got to risk it,” Treth told him.

Charlie typed in the commands. They all waited, watching the screen expectantly. Then an alarm tone sounded abruptly from the panel, and Charlie pulled his hands away as if he’d been shocked.

“Bad luck, bad luck.”

“Nine Hells!” Treth pulled the engineer away from the screen so she could see it more clearly.

“What?” Liam said.

“Trip wire,” Treth said, typing furiously at the keyboard. “They set a trip wire code on the com dish. They were expecting someone to try this. We need to go. Everyone, back into the
Dancer
. Maybe we can–”

A strangled, angry burst of garbled sounds behind her made Zenn turn to the door leading into the
Dancer
. There, blocking their way, was Lu. At least Zenn assumed it was Lu. The simstriss was indeed angry. Unable to maintain a single form, she rapidly changed her appearance, uncontrollably shifting through one organism’s shape after another.

“Charcharch-harlie.” The Lu that said this was a tall male Alcyon, lizard tongue flicking in and out. This form faded and resolved again into a Loepith, then a Reticulan, the alien’s bovine face contorted.

“Software’s gone unstable,” Treth said. “Everyone stay away from her.”

“Naught-naughty Charlieeeee.” Another shift and Lu was momentarily a shrieking human child, then a Cepheian Drifter, then a massive, tri-horned Gargani, which lumbered into the airlock chamber on two thick, furry legs. “No more tricks from you,” the sim-Gargani bellowed, then she grasped the rags of the cowering Charlie in a huge, clawed hand and lifted the Loepith off the floor.

“Charlie, no,” Zenn screamed. As Lu made for the doorway, the simstriss blurred once more but was unable to fully re-form again, becoming a disjointed, unfocused composite creature, part Loepith, part writhing Cepheian tendrils, part Gargani legs and torso, part beaked-and-feathered Ornithope. Zenn watched in horror as the departing sim-monster bore Charlie back into the
Dancer
, holding the weakly struggling Loepith aloft in a claw, a tendril, a paw, until the sight was hidden by the closing door.

“Charlie…” Zenn said, her voice breaking.

The sound of an incoming message drew their attention back to the wall monitor. They all gathered around it in time to see an image take shape on the screen. Pokt’s jowly face filled the screen.

“You are all in attendance? Good. Oh, all but the ape. Before the sim-slave malfunctioned, it expressed a desire for the Loepith. I obliged it. Now you will want to sit for your safety. The airlock will fill with a sleeping gas. You will rest until the Spex and I arrive. We come on a shuttle. Then I am afraid there will be consequences. Of a harsh nature.” The Skirni’s image vanished. The sound of inrushing air came from above them. Zenn looked up to see threads of mist descending in lazy spirals from vents in the ceiling.

“There – gas.” Liam pointed.

“Novice Scarlett,” Treth said, “the intruder-defense gas on this craft will be morphazine; do you have an antidote?”

Zenn tried to remember, her thoughts a sudden jumble, the ghastly image of Charlie held aloft by the sim still vivid.

“Novice Scarlett,” Treth shook her by the shoulders. “An antidote?”

“I think… I might, yes.” Zenn unslung her kit, scooted Katie to one side and dug frantically, searching for the vial. “Naloxin. Here it is.”

Zenn pushed the vial onto a facemask nebulizer – and then she too was going down, her knees suddenly too weak to hold her.

“Scarlett.” It was Liam, close by, strong arms lifting her, propping her to sit with her back up against the wall. Then his legs went limp and he crumpled to the floor next to her.

Zenn could now no longer lift her arm. Treth’s hand was on hers. She took the facemask. But the Groom succumbed next, stumbling backwards away from Zenn to sit down hard before slumping over.

Like a swimmer slipping beneath the water’s surface, Zenn watched the room go indistinct, watched it recede into the distance and, finally, watched it go black.

When Zenn opened her eyes again, something was pressing down on her nose and mouth – the nebulizer mask. The mask pulled away, and a fishy smell filled her nostrils. Khurspex! Her body jolted upright. The blurry object bobbing in front of her face came into focus. No, not Khurspex – dolphin breath, Jules.

“Alert? Yes, I did the correct thing.” He pulled the mask away from her face. “Quick, wake up completely, please.”

Zenn stood, endured a brief rush of vertigo and shook her head to clear it.

“Jules… how…?”

“Better to wake up these two and quickly. Those Khurspex will be coming.”

Zenn revived Treth first, then Liam. The both got shakily to their feet. Opening her pack, she was about to give Katie the antidote, but the rikkaset had apparently been buried deeply enough to avoid the sedative’s affects. Jules tried to help Zenn put the pack back on, but he moved strangely, one mech-arm hanging at his side, one mech-leg dragging behind him.

“Jules, what’s wrong?”

“My half-brain. The drug-fog put half my thinking to sleep.”

Of course! The dolphin’s sleep defense mechanism. Only half his brain had been affected by the gas; the other half stayed awake. Zenn reached up and held the mask over Jules’s blowhole and told him to breathe slowly. Treth was already at the airlock panel.

“The way back to the
Dancer
is locked,” the Groom said. “But I still have control over the airlock into the
Tson
. They saw no need to close it off. We might have time before the Skirni arrives.”

“What about Charlie?” Zenn said.

“As I said. That way is secured. We cannot reach him,” Treth said. “If he is lucky, the simstriss’ ethics memware will prevent any serious harm.”

“But her memware is corrupted,” Zenn said. “We don’t know what it will do.”

“We must concentrate on what is possible,” Treth said, typing furiously at the virtual keypad. Without looking up, she said, “Dolphin, how far can you swim underwater?”

“Swim?” Jules reared back on his mech-legs, as if the Groom had taken a swing at him.

“Underwater?” He looked from Treth to Zenn. “How far can I go underwater? This is what she wants to know?”

“The sub is roughly four hundred feet distant,” Treth said, her eyes on the screen. “Can you reach it and return?”

“Reach it?” The dolphin shifted nervously from mech-foot to mech-foot.

“What about the pressure in there?” Liam interjected. “Won’t it crush him?” Jules gave Liam a wild-eyed stare.

“It is the equivalent of two hundred feet in depth,” Treth said. “Cannot dolphins swim at that level?” Jules didn’t answer but waved his head back and forth in agitation.

“Yes,” Zenn said, a little reluctant to join the discussion with Jules so obviously upset by it. “They can go as deep as twelve hundred feet. As long as the pressure on them rises gradually.”

“The lock is equipped with an equalization chamber.” Treth pointed to a thick observation porthole that looked into the chamber. “Water is pumped in until the pressures are the same on either side, then the exit door into the
Tson
will open.” The Groom stepped over to Jules. “You are the only one among us who can reach the sub and release the mooring cable. But you must go now.” Jules shrank back from her again, emitting a twittering squeak that his Transvox didn’t even attempt to interpret.

“Jules.” Zenn went to him and pulled his head down to her level. She could feel his body trembling with fear. “What is it?”

“Zenn Scarlett, do not stand apart from me now!” There was stark panic in his voice.

“Jules, what’s the matter?”

The dolphin’s black eyes stared into hers. The Transvox was barely audible.

“Zenn Scarlett… I do not know how to swim.”