Serpent's Gift (11 page)

Instead of the lack of contact she'd expected, Heather had actually felt herself link into the computer's "mind." She'd sent her telepathic command racing along pathways of artificial neurons, searching out the vital area in the program, and suddenly she was there, at the critical spot. With a sort of mental "push," (actually it was more like a poke), Heather had changed the: 59

programming from a "no" to a "yes"--caused a temporary override. Her mind had reached all the way past the language-based programming, clear into the binary thinking processes of the Ai. Deep in its "mind," Heather had changed a binary "off" to an "on."

Scant moments later Heather had blinked herself back to awareness of her surroundings, and found herself in her seat before her holo-tank. In its glowing depths, the solution to her trigonometry problem was neatly spelled out.

With careful exploration and practice, she'd honed her gift. Usually, Heather was such an experienced hacker that she didn't need to reach inside a computer's mind or memory. Tricks like getting that free sundae were easy.

But every so often, the computers needed that little extra "push"--the mental poke that only she could manage.

Heather shifted her attention back to Khuharkk', who had begun grooming himself.
C'mon, furball, hurry up!
she thought.

But Khuharkk' was as fastidious as most Simiu were reputed to be. Slowly, painstakingly, he washed himself with his tongue, then combed his fur with his thick fingernails. Glands beneath his nails secreted a substance to keep his luxurious coat soft and shiny. As soon as his personal grooming was attended to, Khuharkk' took several minutes to tidy up the room where he and another Simiu student were quartered.

What a pain in the ass!
Heather thought disgustedly.
Aunt Natalie would
have loved this jerk--if he'd been human, that is...
Aunt Natalie had been petrified of aliens, claiming that they were going to take over Earth "as soon as our backs are turned."
The bigoted old bitch,
Heather thought, picturing her aunt's reaction to finding herself on an airless asteroid with hundreds of aliens. The girl smiled evilly.
Too bad there's no way to swing that. ..

Hearing footsteps, she tensed, crouching behind the statue. Two human students passed the entrance to the Simiu wing, but they -were deep in conversation and neither glanced up. Heather's heart was slamming in her chest, and she was tempted to bolt back to her room and forget the whole thing. She half rose, then Serge LaRoche's face rose before her eyes.

Heather experienced again that awful moment when she'd read his mind and discovered that he
knew
she'd pissed her pants.

Slowly, she settled back down, her mouth set in a grim line.

Almost time,
she thought, checking on Khuharkk', who was cleaning his teeth.
One final computer check . . .

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With practice she'd learned to enter the computer's "mind" even from remote peripherals. Now, staring at her computerpen, Heather let her

consciousness extend, tracing along the linkage of the pen, until she was in the mainframe, tracing the pathways to the environmental systems. Yes, the alteration she had programmed to affect Khuharkk's quarters was ready to be activated, then erase all trace of its presence an instant later.

She concentrated again on Khuharkk', who was giving loving attention to the huge ivory canines that had frightened her so badly when he'd bared them and advanced on her.
Soon. .. soon . ..

Moments later he was finished, and his attention shifted to the last of his presleep rituals. Heather could feel the vicarious pressure in her bladder, her bowels .. .

Khuharkk' positioned himself on his toilet.

Poised, hardly breathing, Heather touched her mind to the environmental computer's, and reversed one vital command in the sanitation system's disposal system.

Khuharkk' pushed the waste-disposal button.

A bare instant later a Simiu's outraged shriek reverberated through the corridors, loud despite the soundproofing. Hysterical yammering, then other howls, followed.

Rising to her feet, Heather stepped out of the niche, tucking her pen into the pocket of her jumpsuit. She walked quickly until she reached the main corridor, then sauntered away, smiling.

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"To friendship," Jeff Morrow said, raising his cup of sake with a flourish.

Behind him, a miniature waterfall splashed into a streambed pebbled with colorful stones, where fish vivid as living

jewels swam lazily. Paper screens with carved frames gave diners an illusion of privacy, and twelve-tone music
plinked
softly in the background.

Seated on a cushion before the low, lacquered table, Rob Gable raised his cup of green tea. "To friendship," he echoed. "Long may ours endure."

"Hear, hear," Jeff responded solemnly, then emptied his cup. Rob drank his tea, then scooped up a cucumber roll in his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. "Best I've had in years," he said as soon as he could speak coherently. "Try the
futo-maki,"
he urged, capturing one himself. "If I keep this up, I won't have room for the tempura."

Jeff sampled the sushi and nodded agreement. "So tell me, how is everything going at the school?"

"Hectic," Rob sighed. "It's always hectic when we get a new '"shipment of freshmen in. The kids are homesick, they need lots of reassurance, course and schedule changes, personality conflicts, culture shock. .." He shook his head ruefully as he cautiously sampled a bite of pickled ginger. "After a month or so, they'll |have adjusted, and things will calm down, as much as they ever do. Running StarBridge reminds me of that old Chinese curse:

'May you live in interesting times.' "

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"What are the new kids like?"

"Great, most of them. It's a real boost to see their enthusiasm, their idealism.

Almost makes me feel young again," he said wryly.

Morrow snorted. "You're the biggest kid down there, Rob, don't think you can bullshit me." He balanced a California roll between his chopsticks. "You said 'most' of them. You've got a problem child?"

Rob nibbled thoughtfully on a
tamago.
"I don't know yet. I've got a kid who's a helluva hard case. I just hope we'll be able to reach her. .. because if we don't she could wind up in real trouble."

'Trouble how?"

"Drugs, maybe, or promiscuity . . . she craves affection and approval, though she doesn't realize it. I can picture her as a drugged-out joygirl in some spaceport." He shook his head. "But it's even more likely that she'd get into computer crime. She's one of the cleverest hackers, by all reports, ever to attend StarBridge." He grinned at his friend. "Since you, at least."

"Sounds like she's quite a risk. Why take it?"

"Because she's one of the most powerful telepaths we've ever discovered."

Jeff blinked. "Really? Projector or receiver?"

"Both."

"No wonder you're sticking your neck out."

"I just hope I've done the right thing .. ." Rob said, smearing a blob of green horseradish over the end of another cucumber roll, then popping the whole thing into his mouth. Moments later, his eyes widened. Swallowing hastily, he reached for his tea, drained the mug, poured another, and emptied that.

"Whew!"

Jeff chuckled at his expression. "Cleared your sinuses, eh, Doc?"

"I'll remember that the next time I get a cold," Rob gasped. Just then their waiter arrived, with the
miso
soup. Both men raised the bowls to their mouths, sipping appreciatively.

"So how are the nonhumans doing . .. Esteemed Ssoriszs, Kkintha, Hrasheekk', and that new one, the Heeyoon archaeologist you mentioned the other day . .." Jeff's brow wrinkled as he groped for the name.

"Greyshine," Rob supplied. "They're all fine. I saw Hrasheekk' today and mentioned I was seeing you, and he said to tell you he sends you greetings."

Jeff smiled. "Is he still making the kids hustle through their workouts, screaming like he's possessed when they slack off?"

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Rob chuckled, nodding. "When Tesa Wakandagi was here, she gave him a name that, in sign, meant 'Dr. Noisy.' It fits so well that I have to bite my tongue to keep from using it to his face!"

"Tesa . .. just one of your graduates who has made the news," Morrow said.

"Gaining Earth full membership in the CLS practically single-handed. She still on Trinity?"

"You bet." Rob smiled reminiscently. "It would take a null- grav booster to get Tesa off her adopted world. She loves being an interrelator."

"What about Mark Kenner, the one who got the hostages free? What's he doing?"

"Serving as the interim interrelator to Elseemar. He'll be back at school in another six months. I don't know whether he'll decide to go back to Elseemar, or go on with his original major, Mizari. I'm also getting another celebrity on the next ship--Cara Hendricks. She and Mark were together on Elseemar."

"You mean the journalist? The one who won the Pulitzer for her coverage of that hijacking?"

'The very same," Rob said proudly. "She's decided she wants to be an
interstellar
journalist, and a CLS internship as a translator would be a good starting point."

"She's right about that!" Jeff pounced on the last
futomaki.
"And then there was that young Chhhh-kk-tu who conducted the arbitration between those two Simiu clans that had declared death-challenge on each other."

"Partha kel'chon," Rob supplied. "Yeah, he did a fantastic job."

"Rob, that's an impressive success rate. You have every right to be proud."

Rob nodded. "Yeah, but--" he broke off, not wanting to get into a sensitive subject.

Jeff knew him too well to let him off the hook. "Yeah, but
what?"
he prodded.

"What were you going to say?"

The doctor sighed, realizing that he'd been backed into a corner. "Naturally I'm proud," he admitted. "But, Jeff, the picture isn't as rosy as it might appear from the outside. We've had cost overruns, and the CLS Council is kicking about funding. They point out that we're not graduating as many students as we'd predicted."

Morrow nodded sympathetically. "I've seen articles on the subject. The CLS

reps point to the high dropout rate, and claim the school isn't paying off the way it was supposed to."

Rob toyed with his chopsticks, chasing grains of rice around his plate.

"Believe me, I'm aware of the criticism, and to an extent, it's justified. I keep hoping we'll be able to improve that dropout

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rate. We're refining our testing methods, trying to pare it down. It's discouraging that some of the best and the brightest just don't graduate, for one reason or another." Serge LaRoche's handsome features flashed across his mind and he frowned, shaking his head. "I feel awkward, discussing this with you .. ."

"Rob"--Jeff leaned forward earnestly--"I appreciate your tact, but quit trying to save my face when it doesn't need saving! I made my peace over dropping out long ago, and I'm happy with my life as it turned out, I assure you!" He grinned wryly. "I'm a millionaire in my own right now--no way I could've done that if I'd stayed at StarBridge, right?"

"Brother, you are
so
right!" Rob agreed, smiling with relief. "You should see my bank balance!"

"Yeah, I know about that pitiful excuse for a salary they give you. It was in those Public Information records when we gave those archaeologists their grant. Talk about insulting . . ." He grimaced.

Gable shrugged. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. What do I need with money out here? Hardly anything to spend it on! Years ago I transferred half my holdings over to my sisters, who have six kids between them. Uncle Rob is putting his nieces and nephews through school. The rest is in trust for Claire."

"If you went back to Earth, you could run for President, Rob," Jeff said earnestly. "I'll finance your campaign. You'll win in a walk, no contest.

President of Earth--how does it sound?"

Gable stared at him, appalled . .. then, slowly, Morrow's poker face melted, and both men burst out laughing. "Not me," Rob sputtered finally, gasping for breath. "Not after seeing what Mahree went through when she was Secretary-General. They're trying to talk her into another term, but she's holding out--so far. President of Earth? Hell no, not me!"

"But the money, the prestige . .." Jeff urged, still chortling.

"Prestige be damned, and I don't need the money," Rob said dryly. "Thanks, but no thanks!" Sobering, he changed the subject. "Speaking of money, about that grant H.U. gave the archaeologists out at the Cliffs .. ."

"Go on," Morrow encouraged.

"If you folks have any more grant money floating around that hasn't been assigned, Ssoriszs got some bad news today. The Mizari Archaeological Society is backing off from their promise. They want to send someone out to evaluate the site, but they're no longer talking about a full team. Professor Greyshine says he'll carry on as best he can, but he and Serge need to pressurize more

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of the caverns. That takes equipment--and money. If they can't do that, they'll have to stop."

Jeff shook his head. "After all that work? We can't let that happen!" He considered for a moment. "I believe the grants have all been apportioned, but I'd be willing to help with a private contribution. It would be tax deductible, right?"

Rob's eyes widened. "Jeff, that's--that's extremely generous of you!"

Morrow shrugged. "I don't have time to spend half of what I've got--I'm too busy working. Tell Greyshine that my assistant, Helene Majors, will be in touch to see what he needs so they can generate some figures."

Rob started to thank him again, but was interrupted by the waiter arriving with the tempura. Jeff waved aside his friend's gratitude. "I'd rather spend it on something like this than some charity back on Earth that has a board of directors earning fat salaries. You know how important StarBridge is to me ...

always will be."

The doctor nodded as he dipped a shrimp
(real shrimp, imported from Earth,
this meal is costing Jeff a fortune,
he thought) into one of the sauces and raised it to his lips--