The Mind Pool (51 page)

Chan was hardly listening. Angel was perfectly happy puttering around with data and computing statistics, but what was the point of them? The group was committed, and probabilities meant nothing. Either they would succeed in a wild venture, or they would fail. It was a binary situation. They could not one-tenth succeed, or one-third succeed. In another half hour, they would be alive, or they would be dead. There was nothing in between.

“Ready for docking,” he said to the blank screen. They had received no visual signals from inside the Q-ship, although the port was less than two hundred meters ahead.

“Proceed,” said the capsule communications set, in a metallic voice.

“They are still computer-controlled,” said Angel. The bulk of the Chassel-Rose was hanging upside-down over Chan’s head, in the free fall of a ballistic approach. “If they were to shoot at us now, there could be minor damage to parts of the Q-ship itself. That is a good sign.
Onward and upward
! Nimrod believes that we will certainly be permitted to complete the docking.”

“Then get down off the ceiling. They’ll grab us in the next second or two, and we’ll feel acceleration. Go and lie down next to Shikari. I don’t want you wrapped around my neck when we dock.”

As Chan spoke there was a jolt on the hull. Angel sailed backwards and bounced off the cabin wall behind him. “Oof!” said the computer strapped to Angel’s midsection. A vibration was felt through the whole capsule, followed by a clang from outside.

“Docking is complete,” said the communicator.

Chan headed for the capsule door, while the other team members remained in the cabin.

Careful. This is a moment of maximum danger.
Chan heard those words—or was he saying them internally? He paused at the door, and made himself wait.

The capsule had been tucked neatly into a berth in the contoured fourth deck. Chan heard outer port seals clang into position, and a creak from the capsule’s hull as external air pressure increased from vacuum levels. He watched until the meters showed external and internal equalization, then opened the capsule lock.

A narrow pier alongside the hull led to an airlock on the interior wall. Chan pulled himself along to it, aware that even after this he would still not be in the ship’s true interior. According to Angel’s reconstruction of Q-ship geometry, there would be another lock to pass through, with its own checking system for interlopers. If anything failed a test, the whole entry port could be blown free into space, and the Q-ship would still operate at close to its full potential.

The lock slid open. As Chan stepped through, a decontaminant spray blew over him from head to foot. A personnel handling system carried him steadily along a white-walled corridor and on to yet another lock. Chan observed everything closely, and wished there was some way in which he could send the information back to Nimrod. The mentality needed data, if it was to gain unobserved entry to the Q-ship interior.

The next door opened to an area that was noticeably not in free-fall. Chan must be within a few meters of the shielded kernel that powered everything on the Q-ship. He thought of the nearby singularity, and imagined that he could feel the tidal gravitational forces. He stood for a moment to make sure of his balance, then walked around the curved floor to the chamber’s outer door.

This was another point of crucial danger. After a second’s hesitation he went on through.

He found himself in a primary quarantine area. It was a large, hexagonal room, thirty meters across and divided into seven parts. The central area where Chan had entered was surrounded by the six individual vaults, each with its own triple-layer glassite walls and inert door. The whole room was visible and audible from every one of the seven chambers. But a kiloton fusion explosion could take place in any of them, and remain totally confined there.

Two men were waiting at the far end of the central area.

Esro Mondrian and Luther Brachis.
Chan recalled the analysis made by the mentalities. These were the two individuals predicted with highest probability to be present on the Q-ship—and the ones least likely to be controllable or sympathetic.

Mondrian seemed to be unarmed. Brachis carried a high-velocity projectile weapon, which he held aimed at Chan’s mid-section. His face was a patchwork of bruised flesh and synthetic skin.

Mondrian nodded a greeting. “Welcome back, Chan. According to our records, you are the first human ever to return from the surface of Travancore. Sony we don’t have the red carpet out for you.” He smiled, despite the obvious tension in the room. “I’m glad to see you, but I’m sure you realize that we have a lot on our minds. Come over here, and sit down.”

He nodded to three straight-backed chairs that formed the central chamber’s only furniture. They were placed so that each provided a view of a wall-sized display. Chan and Mondrian sat down, but Luther Brachis remained standing. His weapon was still in his hand.

Chan nodded towards the gun. “I never asked for a red carpet, but I did expect better treatment than this. You sent us to do a job. We did it—and now you point that at me.”

The mentalities had advised Chan on how he should begin the meeting in the Q-ship: act bitter and confused. They had also warned that they could predict nothing beyond the first few exchanges. Chan would have to use his own judgment as the encounter proceeded.

“But you did not complete your mission,” said Mondrian quietly. “You were instructed to destroy the Morgan Construct. Yet according to your message, it is still alive.”

“It is. But we did
more
than we were asked. Thanks to our team, you now have available to you a live, functioning Construct, operating in a safe environment.”

Live, functioning, safe.
Chan stressed those words deliberately, and saw the positive reaction in Mondrian. Brachis’s face was so battered that it could show no response at all. Chan wished that S’greela were present. The Pipe-Rillas were far better than any human at reading emotional states.

“We even think we know why the Construct went insane,” continued Chan. “It was designed for the purpose of Perimeter surveillance, and then it was not allowed to perform it. If we are right, there is a way to cure it.”

That got through to Mondrian, more than anything so far. His eyes gleamed, but still they were cautious. “Maybe the Construct can be cured. But that doesn’t explain why you failed to follow orders. Why did you not destroy the Construct, as directed?”

“It was not necessary.” Chan had to keep them talking, even if it meant giving out more information than he wanted to. Nimrod had asked for five minutes. “Why destroy it, when we could neutralize its offensive powers? It can’t do any damage now. It is in stasis, safely immobilized on the jungle floor of Travancore.”

“Undamaged, and in good working order?” Mondrian’s voice had a slight tremor in it.

“So far as we can tell. But the capsule wasn’t big enough for both us and the Construct. If you can give me a larger transfer vehicle, we can go down and collect it.”

Chan knew that he had reached one of the principal branch points identified by the mentalities. If Mondrian agreed now, the chance of survival increased greatly.

But the man was shaking his head, and fiddling with the star opal at his collar. “Not yet. Tell me, Chan, what do you see as the future of Team Ruby, now that you’ve done your work with the Construct?”

“I didn’t think that we
had
a future. We were assembled to do a job, and we did it. I suppose that I thought we’d be congratulated, and then we’d all go home. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I don’t think so.” Mondrian nodded at Luther Brachis, who lowered his weapon. “Suppose we agree that you can go down and bring up the Morgan Construct. Do you need to have your whole team there when you do so?”

“It’s not necessary. The Construct is harmless now. I could go down and do it on my own if I had the right ship.”

“Fine.” Mondrian stood up. “We’ll bring the other team members in. I want to thank them individually. Then they can all be Linked back to their home planets.”

“Right now?”

“I don’t see why not.”

He suspects,
thought Chan. He doesn’t know that my team formed a mind pool, too, but he’s not going to take any chances. “I hoped that we could all get together here, maybe even have a celebration. The team members expected to go their separate ways, but not so soon and so suddenly.”

“When you defeated the Morgan Construct, the work on Travancore ended. There is no reason now to continue the Anabasis.” Mondrian was relaxing, just a little. “And we have other work to do, back on Ceres. Luther, bring the others through—one by one.”

It was going to work out all right. But as Chan had that thought, Luther Brachis walked to the door leading to one of the shielded compartments. He gestured to Chan with his gun. “In here, Dalton.”

“Me? What have I done now?”

Brachis shrugged.

“It should only be for a few minutes,” said Mondrian.

Brachis guided Chan through, and the hardened door closed as Mondrian stepped to the communications panel and pressed a sequence there. “All that we want to do is check on your companions,” he said. “As soon as that proves satisfactory, you will be released. Here comes the first.”

The display screen showed the bulky figure of Angel, leaving the capsule and floating towards the lock. Soon Angel appeared in the central chamber. This time there was no discussion. Angel was moved at once to a second shielded compartment.

No one spoke as S’greela, and finally Shikari, were brought in turn from the capsule to the quarantine chamber. The Tinker was handled with particular care. Luther Brachis had another weapon at his belt, this one able to throw a wide beam of destructive energy. If necessary, he could use it to kill a whole swarm of components in mid-air.

But it was not needed. S’greela and Shikari allowed themselves to be shepherded quietly through into separate sealed compartments. When all the pursuit team members were present, Mondrian went again to the control panel. He pressed a new command sequence.

“Destroying the landing capsule,” he said casually—but he was looking straight at Chan. “In strict accordance with Security quarantine regulations, of course. Your team is here, and we don’t want to risk some dangerous life-form taking a free ride up from Travancore. Do we?”

Chan shook his head. He kept his face impassive as the capsule on the screen flared to blue incandescence. The possibility of that act had been considered by Nimrod and Almas when they were still on Travancore, but no good counter-action had been devised.

The situation was clear. Either Nimrod had already found some way to move from the capsule to the interior of the Q-ship, or Leah and the others were dead. The mentality was supposed to disassemble once the capsule had docked, and each of its four members would then make its way into the Q-ship interior. It had seemed simple enough when Nimrod and Almas proposed it. Now it sounded impossible. Chan wished that he had Angel’s inborn ability to assess odds.

“I have one additional question,” went on Mondrian, “before you lead us down to collect the Construct, and we talk of celebration. I am curious to learn if in your efforts on Travancore you were troubled by illusions, or a distorted perception of reality.”

It was the crucial moment. Mondrian must know of Chan’s first and incomplete meeting with Nimrod, because Chan had reported seeing Leah, and that would be in the data files. But what was the right answer? Was it better to admit that there had been a later meeting? Or should he say that they had fired on and destroyed something in the deep forest, assuming that it was created by the Morgan Construct?

Any answer was dangerous. Chan hesitated, and as he did so Brachis raised his gun and took a step toward the door of the compartment that held Chan. “Damn it, Esro, he’s taking too long. Can’t you see he’s stalling?”

“Keep calm, Luther. We are all nervous. But I
need
that Construct, even if you don’t. And we must know exactly what happened on Travancore before we can risk going down there.”

Behind Mondrian, another door was slowly opening. A female figure stood on the threshold. Chan held his breath and tried not to look that way as she stepped from darkness into the bright-lit quarantine chamber.

Leah?

And then Chan relaxed, disappointed. The newcomer was Godiva Lomberd. She was dressed in a modest, calf-length white dress with long sleeves, and she had a bewildered look on her face.

Luther Brachis had not heard her coming until the last moment. He swung around, weapon raised and finger tight on the trigger. As he saw Godiva he exhaled hard and lowered his gun.

“Goddy, don’t
ever
come in like that again. I told you to stay in our quarters until I got back. I could have shot you!”

“I have to talk to you, Luther.” Her voice was far-off and dreamy. “I have to. It’s important.”

“Later. Can’t you see we’re busy? You’ll have to go back to our room, I just can’t talk to you now.”

“It
has
to be now.” Godiva took two dragging steps forward. “Please, Luther. For your own sake.”

“Go with her.”
It was Angel, speaking through the computer communicator. “Godiva is right, Luther Brachis. You must go with her.”

“What the hell
is
all this?” Brachis was swinging to face Angel, but the alien was safe behind the chamber’s glassite wall.

“It’s what I feared.” Mondrian went hurrying across to the control board. “
It’s on board.
God knows how, and God knows where. But it’s here, Luther—and it has taken over Godiva. Just look at her face.”

“Godiva!” Brachis turned back to her.

“No, Luther.” She walked forward to stand in front of him. “Esro is wrong. There
is
someone new on board, and I did talk to it. But don’t worry, I can’t be taken over—ever.” She smiled up into his face. “Luther, Nimrod didn’t take me and change me. But it can help you and Esro. You can get rid of all the violence, all the hatred. Please come with me now, both of you. You’ll be quite safe. I love you, Luther. You know I would never o anything to hurt you.”