The Tar-aiym Krang (15 page)

Chapter Eleven

The dot that indicated the presence of an operating posigravity drive field was clear now and far off to their “right”—about ninety degrees or so to the present x-plane. It was moving on a definite convergence course. They still could not be sure what it was, other than that at least one mind occupied a similar area of space.

An ancient aphorism someone had once recited to Flinx came back to him. As he recalled it, there had been two men involved, one old and one young. The younger had said, “No news is good news,” and the other, a Terran holy man, had wisely replied, “That’s not necessarily true, my young friend. A fisherman doesn’t think he’s lucky if he doesn’t get a bite.” He wasn’t positive that the story was an appropriate analogy for the moment, because he found himself disagreeing with the holy man.

“Two of them, Captain,” said Wolf. “See. . . .”

It was true. Even Flinx could see that as the large dot came closer it was separating into two distinct points. At the same time he sensed a multiplicity of similar minds to the one he’d first noticed although much weaker.

“
Two
ships,” said Malaika. “Then my one guess is in error after all. Before shadows. Now, everything in the dark.
Usiku.
Still, it might be. . . .”

“What
was
your guess, Maxim?” asked Truzenzuzex.

“I thought perhaps a competitor of mine—a certain competitor—had gotten drift of your discovery to a greater extent than I originally thought. Or that certain information had leaked. If the latter case, then I should suspect that someone on this ship is a spy.” There were some fast, uneasy glances around the cabin. “That is still a possibility, but I am now less inclined to suspect it. I don’t know of any combine in the Arm, neither the one I had in mind nor even General Industries, that could afford or would be inclined to put out two ships on what has a very good chance of being a profitless venture on merely spurious, secondhand information. Not even an AAnn Nest-Corporation.”

“In which case,” said Tse-Mallory, “who are our two visitors?”

“I don’t know, sociologist,
hata kidogo.
Not at all. But we will no doubt find out shortly. They should be in reception distance momentarily, if they aren’t already. If there were a relay station in this area we might have found out sooner . . . assuming of course that they wished us to know of their presence, and knew closely enough where we were. I think that I doubt that . . . .”

Atha was efficiently manipulating dials and switches. “I’ve got everything wide open, sir, and if they’re beaming us, we’ll pick it up, all right!”

They did.

The face that appeared on the screen was not shocking, thanks to Flinx’s advance warning, but the garb it wore was because it was so totally unexpected.

“Good-morning to you,
Gloryhole,”
said the sallow-faced AAnn officer-noble who looked out at them. “Or whatever day-period you are experiencing at the moment. The illustrious and renowned Maxim Malaika captaining, I assume?”

“The puzzled and curious Maxim Malaika is here, if that’s what you mean.” He moved into the center of the transceiver’s pickup. “You’re one up on me.”

“Apologies,” said the figure. “I am named Riidi WW, Baron Second of Tyrton Six, Officer in the Emperor Maahn the Fourth’s Circumspatial Defense Forces. My ship is named
Arr,
and we are accompanied in travel by her sister-ship, the
Unn.”

Malaika spoke in the direction of the omnipickup mike. “All that. Your mother must have been long-winded. You boys are a bit off your usual tracks, aren’t you?”

The Baron’s face reflected mild surprise. As Flinx suspected, it was mock. “Why, captain! The Blight is unclaimed space and open to all. There are many fine, colonizable, unclaimed planets here, free to any spacegoing race. While it is true that in the past His Majesty’s government has been more involved in outward expansion, an occasional search for planets of exceptional promise does sometimes penetrate this far.”

“A very concise and seemingly plausible explanation,” whispered Truzenzuzex to Malaika from out of range of the audiovisual pickups.

“Yes,” the merchant whispered back. “I don’t believe a word of it either. Wolf, change course forty-five degrees x-plus.”

“Done, Captain.”

“Well, Baron, it’s always nice to hear from someone away out in the middle of nowhere, and I am sure that two of his Majesty’s destroyers will be more than a match for any planet of ‘exceptional promise’ you may happen to find. I wish you luck in your prospecting.”

“Your offers of good fortune are accepted in the spirit in which they are given, Captain Malaika. In return I should like to extend the hospitality of my ship and crew, most especially of our galley. I am fortunate enough to have on board a chef who works wonders with the cuisine of thirty-two different systems. The fellow is a wizard, and would be proud to have the opportunity to display his talents before such discerning gourmets as yourselves.”

Wolf’s low whisper cut across the cabin. “They’ve changed course to match our new one, sir. And accelerated, too.”

“Keep on course. And pick it up enough to match their increase. But do it subtly,
mwanamume,
subtly!” He turned back to the screen.

“Truly a gracious offer, Baron, and ordinarily I would consider it an honor and a delight to accept. However, I am afraid that circumstances warrant we decline this particular invitation. You see, we had fish for supper last evening, and I am certain it was not prepared half so well as your chef could manage, because we have all been suffering from severe pains of the lower intestinal tract today. If we may, I’ll put off your kind offer till a later date.”

Away from the mike he whispered, “The rest of you get back to your cabins and strap down. I’ll try to keep you up on what happens through your intership viewers. But if we have to bump around a bit, I don’t want you all bouncing off the woodwork and messing up my carpets!”

Flinx, Tse-Mallory, and Truzenzuzex made a scramble for the exitway, being careful to stay out of range of the tri-dee video pickup. But apparently Truzenzuzex couldn’t resist a dig at a persistent and long-time enemy. The thranx had had dealings with the AAnn long before mankind.

He stuck his head into range of the pickups and yelled, “Know, O sand-eater, that I have sampled AAnn cuisine before, and that my gizzard has found it to be gritty to the palate. Those who dine upon rocks rapidly assume the disposition and mental capacity of the same!”

The AAnn bristled, the scales along its neck-ridge rising. “Listen, dirt-dweller, I’ll inform you that . . .!” He caught it in mid-curse and recomposed himself with an effort. Feigning a sigh where he no doubt would have preferred a threat, he said, “I retain the courtesies while it is evident they have departed your ship, Captain. Have it your way. You cannot outrun us, you know. Now that we are within easy range, my detector operators will be most careful not to lose you. It will be only a matter of time before we come within filial distance of you. At that moment I would hope that you would have reconsidered my really exceptionally polite and generous invitation, and will lower your field. Otherwise,” he said grimly, “I am very much afraid we shall be forced to open you up like a can of
zith
-paste.”

The screen abruptly went blank.

In his cabin, Flinx lay down on his bed and began to strap into the emergency harness that was affixed permanently to its sides. He had Pip next to his left hand, curled around a bar on that side of the bed. He admonished it to be quiet. The snake, sensing that important things were happening, did as it was told with a minimum of fuss and bother.

When he had finished and settled himself into the closest thing to a comfortable position he could manage in the awkward harness, he turned on the little screen which hung suspended from the roof of the cabin. It cleared instantly to reveal Malaika, Atha, and Wolf busy in Control. Unwillingly, he began to recall more familiar sights and smells. It embarrassed him, but at that moment he wished fervently he were back home in Drallar, juggling before an appreciative crowd and making small boys laugh by telling them the names of their secret loves. What he could interpret of the mind/thoughts of the AAnn commander was not pleasant. The feeling passed abruptly as though a cool rag had been drawn across his mind, and he settled himself grimly to wait.

In the huge, exotically furnished cabin which formed her quarters, Sissiph lay alone on the big bed, curled in her harness. Her knees nearly touched her chest. She felt very alone. The order to don harness had been delivered in a tough, no-nonsense tone that Maxy had never used with her before, and she was frightened. The luxurious accoutrements, the intricately carved furniture and sensuous cantilevered lighting, the king’s ransom in clothing scattered about the room, all suddenly seemed as frivolous and flighty as the toys of a child. She had known, she had simply
known,
when she had chosen to try to replace that other little witch—what had been her name?—as Malaika’s steady Lynx, that something terrible like this was going to happen. She had
known
it!

Merchants were so
damned
unpredictable!

She did not throw the switch which would lower the screen and put her in communication with Control and the rest of the ship. Let him survive without her for a while! Instead she buried herself as deeply as she could in the purrsilk pillows and promised herself that if she survived this awful, horrible journey into no place, she was going to find some nice hundred-and-fifty-year-old man . . . on the verge of death. A senile, wealthy one, with whom she could look forward to a nice, quiet, comfortable, short, married life . . . and a long, wealthy widowhood.

Bran Tse-Mallory was lying in his bed quietly reviewing the hundred and five maxims of the state of Indifferent Contentment. It was originally invented by a brilliant graduate student to help nervous students relax for examinations. It would do duty in other situations. The current one, for example. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past twenty-one. It kept repeating itself over and over in his mind every time he tried to concentrate on twenty-two.

“Mankind must without a doubt be the most conceited race in the universe, for who else believes that God has nothing better to do than sit around all day and help him out of tight spots?”

It was an unworthy thought for one who supposedly had mellowed so over the years, but how, oh, how he wished for the comforting grip of a gun—
any
kind of gun—under his fingers. They tightened and relaxed reflexively, making deep furrows in the softness of the blankets.

The Eint Truzenzuzex was lying quietly on his modified lounge, legs fully extended, foothands and truehands crossed on his chest in the proper
Oo
position. He tried to keep one half of his mind focused on the ship viewer, while the other half droned through the ritual.

“I, Tru, of the family Zen, clan zu, the Hive Zex, do hereforth pray that I shall not bring disgrace on my-our ancestors. I, Tru, of the family Zen, clan zu, the Hive Zex, do hereforth pray that in the coming Time of Trouble I may reflect credit on my first-mother, clan mother, and Hive mother. I, Tru, of the family Zen, clan. . . .”

Atha Moon and the man called Wolf thought otherwise. They were much too busy for anything else. And Maxim Malaika, the man who was responsible for them all, did likewise. Also, he was too scared to have time for trivialities like worry. Wolf broke into his nonthoughts.

“They’ve closed to within five mils, sir. At this rate they’ll be within particle-beam range in five, ten minutes.”

“
Choovy!
And other unmentionables! Damn!”

Atha looked back at him worriedly. “Couldn’t we try to dodge them, Maxim? I mean, captain?”

“
La, hasha,
Atha. No way. Those are AAnn destroyers out there. They’re built to chase down and slice up ships much faster than we are. The
Gloryhole
is a rich man’s whim, not a navy ship. But it
is
something of a speedster,
sharti.
Of necessity. With any kind of distance between us at initial contact we might have slipped out of detector range and lost them, but they were on top of us before we even knew who they were. Anyway, there are two of them. One,
labda,
we might still slip, but never two. Not at this range.”

Atha thought. “Couldn’t we just, well, surrender and take our chances? I mean, everything considered, that Baron didn’t seem all that awful. Just impatient. And we aren’t at war or anything with his people.”

“
Ndoto.
A dream. The AAnn don’t operate that way, Atha.” His lips were firmed, tight. “At best they are . . . intolerant . . . with folk who cooperate with them. With those who don’t. . . . If you’re curious about details, ask Wolf. He was in an AAnn prison camp for five years, during the last real humanx-AAnn conflict. There may be others who survived that long in one of those hell-pits and lived to tell of it. If so, I haven’t met him.”

“The captain is right, Miss Moon. I would much rather throw myself into space to blow up like a deep-sea fish than be captured by those again.” He nodded at the screen, where the white dots continued their inexorable approach. “Among their other affectations, they are very adept at the more refined forms of torture. Very. It is something of an art form with them, you see. Most of my scars don’t show. They’re up here, you see.” He tapped the side of his head. “If you wish some detailed descriptions. . . .”

Atha shuddered. “Never mind.”

“This Riidi fellow seems fairly decent . . . for an AAnn, but to take the chance. . . . If I could spare Wolf from plotting, or myself from the computer . . .
tandunono!
No, wait!” He leaned over the mike pickup. “
Ninyi nyote!
Tse-Mallory, sociologist. And you, bug! Have either of you ever handled a spatial weapon before? Even in simulation?”

In his cabin Tse-Mallory nearly broke a finger struggling with his harness. And Truzenzuzex broke off his ritual in a place and manner that would have earned him the condemnation of every member of his clan, had they known of it.