Part 3 (1/2)
”Yes, Director?”
”Have you any more information on those strange readings your people picked up from theBalefire ?”
”Nothing definite, sir. Our sensors detected a concentration of energy levels which suggests that most of the s.h.i.+p's pa.s.sengers are being carried in cryogenic units, but even so, our espers are still picking up some very unusual life signs. There's something strange aboard theBalefire , Director. Something cold and powerful and . . . alien.”
”Alien? You mean an alien life form?”
”I don't know, Director. None of us have ever come across anything like this before. Whatever it is the Balefire' s carrying, it's well s.h.i.+elded. It could be anywhere aboard the s.h.i.+p.”
”Do you think this creature's dangerous?”
”I couldn't say, Director. But it is disturbing.”
Steel pursed his lips thoughtfully and tapped them with an index finger. ”Get me theBalefire' s Captain.”
”Yes, Director.”
There was a pause as the screen went blank, and then a slow, grim voice issued from the monitor's speakers.
”This is Captain Starlight, of theBalefire .”
”Welcome to Mistport, Captain,” said Steel.
”Never mind the d.a.m.ned amenities; my hull's breached in a dozen places, my s.h.i.+p's systems are falling apart, and my cargo hold's full of refugees. How long before I can unload and get a repair crew in here?”
”I'm sorry, Captain. Until theBalefire' s been fully inspected and cleared, no one will be allowed to leave your s.h.i.+p for any reason. My security people are armed and have been given orders to shoot on sight.”
”What?”
”Mistport's already suffered one Empire plague s.h.i.+p, Captain. We don't take chances anymore.”
There was a long silence.
”How are your crew, Captain?” asked Steel politely. ”What condition are they in?”
”Pretty bad. Most of them are dead, back on Tannim. I had to raise s.h.i.+p while I had the chance; I couldn't wait for them. . . . The few I have with me are exhausted. They've each had to do a dozen men's work. They need medical attention, Director. I take it you will at least allow a doctor to come on board?”
”I'm sorry,” said Steel.
”You can't be serious, d.a.m.n you! My crew needs a doctor. They could die!”
”Then they die.”
The words seemed to echo endlessly on the silence.
”If just one of my men dies needlessly . . .”
”Save your threats, Captain. I've heard them all before.”
”Aye. I'm sure you have.”
”My espers did a thorough scan on your s.h.i.+p, Captain. They picked up some . . . interesting readings.”
”Is that it? Is that the reason you're keeping us cooped up in this death s.h.i.+p? Just because a few b.l.o.o.d.y freaks have a bad feeling about us? I'll have your head for this!”
”I doubt it,” said Steel calmly. ”But I may have to take yours. We'll talk again later, Captain.”
He broke the connection without waiting for an answer. Everyone on Mistworld understood the concept of the Trojan horse. For those with short memories, Mistport's cemeteries were full of reminders. There was a sudden blast of noise behind him, and Steel winced as he turned quickly round to find Jamie Royal leaning nonchalantly against the open cubicle door. The young esper grinned at Steel, and trimmed an immaculate fingernail with a wicked-looking dirk.
”Gideon, how are you doing?”
”Close the door!” Steel roared. ”Can't hear myself think with all that noise!”
Jamie nodded casually, put away his knife, and pushed the door shut with his elbow. The uproar of voices and machinery was cut off instantly. Steel leant back in his chair and hid a smile behind his hand.
He liked Jamie, though he often wondered why. The man drank too much, lived beyond his means, and would come to a bad end. If an outraged husband didn't kill him first.
”h.e.l.lo, Jamie. What are you doing here?”
”I've been helping install your new cannon.”
Steel raised an eyebrow. ”Since when did you develop a taste for honest work?”
Jamie smiled sheepishly. ”My creditors were becoming insistent.”
”I'm surprised they could fine you.”
”So was I. I must be slipping.”
Steel had to laugh. ”So, Jamie, how did you come to be involved with our disrupters? What you know about high tech could probably be engraved on your thumbnail without undue difficulty.”
”I've been acting as an interface between the technicians and your living computer.” The young esper shuddered suddenly. ”You can't imagine what that's like, Gideon. Those poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds have just enough mind left to realise what's been done to them. Neither man nor machine, but something caught horribly between the two. Inside, they're screaming all the time.”
”You think I like using that monstrosity? I don't have any choice, Jamie. We've less than half the computers we used to have, and those still on-line are all linked into vital areas of port machinery. We need those people, Jamie; the port can't function without them.”
”That doesn't make it right.”
”No. It doesn't.”
Jamie smiled suddenly. ”Hark at me, preaching to you. What is the world coming to?”
”I sometimes wonder,” growled Steel. ”What do you think of the new defence systems?”
”They're all right, if you like that sort of thing.”
”You might try and sound a little more impressed, Jamie. Those cannon are strong enough to punch through an Imperial cruiser's s.h.i.+elds.”
Jamie laughed, and seated himself elegantly on the edge of Steel's desk, one leg idly swinging. ”Still putting your faith in technology rather than people, Gideon? The psionic s.h.i.+eld has kept Mistworld safe for almost two hundred years, and no d.a.m.ned machinery is ever going to replace us. We're better and faster than any gun you ever saw.”
Steel groaned theatrically. ”Not you as well, Jamie. I've already spent hours arguing this out with the d.a.m.ned Council.” He broke off suddenly, and looked grimly at the young esper. ”I had time for a little chat with your grandfather. He's worried about you.”