Double Contact (10 page)

“Dr. Prilicla,” it said. “One of the casualties, the last one you brought in, has returned to partial consciousness. Judging by its manner, it was the ship's commanding officer. It is greatly agitated, its speech is slurred and unintelligible, and, in spite of being immobilized, it is fighting all attempts at administering further sedative shots. The self-inflicted additional trauma is causing a marked deterioration in its clinical condition. If we patch you through, will you speak to it? Or better still, come back here and try your projective empathy on its mind?”

While the charge nurse was speaking, Prilicla had been trying not to tremble at the thought of what the severely burned and prematurely conscious patient was doing to itself. He said, “Of course, friend Naydrad. I'll talk to it now and while I'm flying back to join you. If it is
Terragar
's captain, then
Rhabwar
will have its family and personal names on file. Quickly, please, find out what they are. Using them in conversation will help reassure it, but I'll speak to it now.”

“No,” said Fletcher. “I know its name. Let me talk to it.”

He felt Murchison's earlier calm disappear in an uncharacteristic flare of anger as it said, “What the hell's got into you, Captain? This is a clinical matter. It is definitely
not
in your area of expertise.”

Both of their faces were showing the reddening of temporarily elevated blood pressure, but the anger of the captain was being overlaid by feelings of increasing certainty as it said, “Sorry, ma'am. In this case it is, because right now I'm the only one here who knows what happened.”

CHAPTER 10

The captain was not allowing the intense sympathy and concern it was feeling to affect the calm, unemotional tone of its voice as it spoke via the communicator screen to the patient, but considering the urgency of the situation, Prilicla thought that friend Fletcher's long-range bedside manner was very good.

“Captain Davidson, George,” it began. “This is Don Fletcher,
Rhabwar.
We were able to land your ship, cool it in the sea, and recover your crew. Apart from the burn injuries, which are severe, you are in no immediate danger, and—please believe me—neither are we.…”

No sentient creature, Prilicla thought as an uncontrollable tremor shook his body, should ever have to suffer such an intensity of pain, much less have to fight through it in an attempt to produce coherent words. The captain's voice remained steady but its normally pink, Earth-human face had paled to a bloodless yellow-grey.

“George,” it went on, “please stop threshing about in that litter and trying to fight your medication, and most of all, stop trying to talk. Believe me, we know what is troubling you and what you're trying to warn us about, and we appreciate the effort. But right now you must relax and just listen to me.…”

Captain Davidson was still trying desperately to talk rather than listen, but its words lacked coherency even to the listeners of its own species who did not need translators. The high levels of pain and fear and urgency it was feeling had not diminished.

“… We received and understood the hand signals and emotional radiation from your control canopy,” the captain went on, with a nod towards Prilicla, “and at no time was direct physical contact made by
Rhabwar
either with
Terragar
or the alien ship, and that situation will continue until the threat is fully understood. In the meantime
Rhabwar
has been positioned at a safe distance along the beach from this medical station that we have deployed to treat your survivors, and the remains of your ship are also at a safe distance from both. Following the recovery of your casualties,
Terragar
was boarded again and your ship interior and the remains of the alien robot we found on board were thoroughly investigated. As a result we know the reason for your desperate and apparently suicidal attempts to avoid contact with our own ship. We deeply appreciate what you were trying to do and tell us, but now we have received the message and probably know more about the threat from that alien ship than you do.”

Prilicla detected the change in emotional radiation several seconds before Danalta spoke.

“The patient's struggles have diminished slightly,” the shape-changer reported quietly without looking up from the patient. “It is no longer trying to speak, but the monitor indicates continued muscular tension and elevated blood pressure. You are getting through to it, Captain. I don't understand one word of your explanation, but for the patient's sake, keep on talking.”

“From the evidence so far uncovered,” Fletcher went on, ignoring the compliment and at the same time trying to reduce Danalta's level of ignorance, “I would say that the robot was floating free outside the other ship's hull and you recovered it hoping that it might be a survivor or, if not, that it would at least give you some idea of the form of life you were trying to rescue. When they didn't respond to your radio signals, you sent across a contact-sensor plate and connecting cable which you attached magnetically to the hull, hoping that it would be able to detect life signs or movements that your computer would be able to process to give the exact locations. But it was the direct cable connection between the sensor plate and your computer that wrecked
Terragar.
In short, George, that alien vessel doesn't affect or infect living people, it kills ships. It also infects, disables, or kills any lesser form of computer-controlled device that comes into contact with it.

“You turned up an alien hot potato this time, George,” the captain ended softly, “but now it's our problem. So just relax, go back to sleep, and let us worry about it.”

Several minutes passed without anyone speaking. From the medical team Prilicla detected feelings of surprise, curiosity, and excitement caused by Fletcher's explanation, while Captain Davidson's emotional radiation was that of a mind that was slipping back into unconsciousness.

“The patient is again responding to the sedative medication,” he said, “and its life signs are stabilizing. Thank you, friend Fletcher.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Murchison, radiating relief and gratitude. “That was very well done, Captain.” It looked at the broken test device lying on the deck and added, “Now we know why you lost your temper and trashed that thing. I'd probably have done the same.”

Prilicla was feeling friend Fletcher's gratitude and pleasure at the compliments, as well as its increasing embarrassment. He said, “Have you enough information now to send your subspace signal?”

“On the
Terragar
situation, yes,” the captain replied. “But I'd like to make the report as informative as possible. We have to go into space to send it, so I want to take a closer look at that alien ship before I do. Don't worry, I won't make direct contact or do anything stupid like deploying another sensor connection cable.
Rhabwar
will be back in three to four hours. And Doctor, we'll be visiting a hunk of sick machinery so there will be no need for a medical presence.”

“There is, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla gently. “You are visiting a ship disaster situation and, regardless of the type or condition of the casualties, as the senior medical officer I should be there. About this I must insist.”

Before any of his team could voice their objections, which were based principally on concern for his safety, he went on. “Don't worry, I shall take no unnecessary risks nor allow friend Fletcher to do so. Are there any decontamination procedures you can suggest before I transfer to
Rhabwar?
”

Murchison and Fletcher looked at each other for a moment while their feelings changed from concern to a grudging acceptance of the inevitable.

“The usual organic decontamination drill at the airlock,” said the captain, “which is almost certainly unnecessary, but I don't believe in taking chances, either.…” It gestured towards the tester lying on the deck. “And, of course, don't bring any computer viruses on board.”

*   *   *

Even though the alien vessel was clean, bright, shining, and highly streamlined—a clear indication that it had taken off from a planetary surface rather than being assembled in space—among themselves,
Rhabwar
's officers were calling it the Plague Ship. As a vessel crewed by robots it was probably as clean inside as it was out, Prilicla thought as he watched the image enlarge beyond the edges of his viewscreen, but then they were not talking about that sort of plague.

They moved in to a distance of two hundred meters and began a series of slow circles around its longitudinal axis. At close range, the only blemishes visible on the sleek hull were the two small craters with the heat discoloration around them and an open access hatch cover with heat-damaged equipment of some kind projecting from it.

“There's something odd about that hull damage,” said the captain. “I would like a closer look at it, or better still, a hands-on examination. I'm thinking aloud, you understand, but what if I was to go over there in a lightweight suit, and didn't touch it with any computerized test equipment, and even retracted the suit antenna to reduce the risk of making metal-to-metal contact with the hull? It would also mean not carrying a weapon, but that is normal practice in a first-contact situation. At this short range I wouldn't need the antenna, and as an added precaution I could wear non-conducting gauntlets, and insulated covers for the boots, during the…”

“Pardon the interruption, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla quietly, “but I feel you radiating intense curiosity. I have similar feelings and would like a closer look, too. Admittedly the contamination we would be investigating is nonorganic, but the presence of a medical advisor could be an advantage.”

The other radiated indecision for a moment, then it made the soft, barking sound that Earth-humans called laughter and said, “Right. But I have the feeling that if Pathologist Murchison had been here she would give you an argument about that, as well as subjecting me to a great deal of verbal abuse for allowing you to take the risk. Chen?”

“Sir,” replied the engineering officer.

“We intend closing to a distance of twenty meters, very slowly,” Fletcher went on. “Be ready to pull us out again faster than that.”

By the time Fletcher and himself had suited-up and flown clear of
Rhabwar
's personnel lock, Prilicla had had time for many second thoughts and had foolishly discarded all of them. It was not always an advantage to carry Educator tapes whose donors were less cowardly than himself, especially when he allowed them to influence his own thinking. The alien vessel was now rolling ponderously at a distance of about thirty meters, but no attempt had been made to kill its spin because the tractor beam might have furnished an avenue for electronic infection. As they compensated for its movement with their suit thrusters, it felt as if they were tiny insects sandwiched between the vast white wall that was the ambulance ship's hull and the silvery surface of the alien vessel, with a broad, circular band that was divided into star-sprinkled space above and the mottled carpet of the planetary cloud blanket below them.

They used their suit thrusters to bring themselves to a halt within three meters of the open hatch cover. After a moment's hesitation, Fletcher edged closer and one of its hands made fleeting contact with the metal projection, then gripped it firmly in both.

“No harmful effects noted,” it said for the benefit of the recorders.

“The mechanism projecting from the small compartment behind the hatch cover,” it went on, “appears to be a simple, extendible metal arm with a hinged outer section that is capable of rotation horizontally and vertically through one hundred and eighty degrees, and there is a gripping mechanism at its extremity. It has the appearance of being an unsophisticated device used for placing in position on, or removing objects from, the external hull. There is evidence of scorch damage.…”

While the captain continued to describe in meticulous detail everything it was seeing and thinking, Prilicla waited until the slow, rolling motion of the vessel caused them to move close to the cratered area. With small, precisely timed bursts of thruster power he maintained position about two meters above them. He was not a forensics expert, but his visual acuity was exceptionally good and the type of damage he was seeing, although probably caused by the same agency, displayed a major inconsistency in its effect.

The first crater showed a normal, circular depression whose depth was approximately half of its diameter and with the interior and lip edges compressed and fused by the explosive pressure of a high-temperature blast of some kind, but the second one was entirely different. It had a shallower, ringlike formation with an area at its center that showed pressure but minimal heat damage. Deep scratches covering the area with what looked like small traces of silvery metal were adhering to some of them. Even though he was trusting to visual observation alone, Prilicla was sure that the metals of the hull and of that adhering to the scratches were markedly dissimilar. He edged closer to make absolutely sure before he spoke.

“Friend Fletcher,” he said, “there is something very odd here that I would like you to see.”

“The compartment behind this access hatch looks very odd, too,” said the captain. It moved to join him and looked in the direction of his pointing digit for a moment before it added, “But you first, Doctor. What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“The difference in the extent and depth of the damage at this and the other crater,” he said. “You can see that this crater is shallower than the first one and, while the perimeter of this one has been fused by intense heat, the central area has been depressed but is not as badly burned. There is deep scratching that contains small traces of a brighter metal that is foreign to the surrounding hull. It looks as if a large, fairly smooth metal object made heavy contact at this spot. Friend Fletcher, the size and outline of the unburned area are suggestive.”