Queen of Chaos, page 11
part #3 of Sequoyah Series
Nothing from the gaping hole in the crab ship. The figures there weren’t moving.
“Captain, I’m seeing something from…I guess it’s the front. Flashing light.” Yolanda called down to the bridge.
Moire stopped the runabout display. “Did you see how many?”
“Not sure. There’s a bit of stuff sticking out that blocks it from my position.”
Moire glanced at Gren, who started punching through available vid pickups. “That should be it. Give it a try,” he said, without turning his head from the display. Moire hid a smile. Despite his gloomy predictions, Gren was as excited as the rest of them now.
She started the display run again, just once.
“Lights! And there’s…four flashes. Just four.”
Yolanda gave a whoop, and Moire let out a breath. The release of tension on the bridge was palpable. Maybe this would work after all. It seemed reasonable to conclude the crabs were willing to talk, or at least able to understand that’s what the humans wanted to do. Of course, they might be trying to lure them in for a suicidal attack, but that didn’t seem to be the crab way.
“Time for Phase Two, Captain?” Harrington asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get in a little closer. You know,” she said, shaking her head, “I really didn’t think we’d end up conducting negotiations with an alien race using cartoons.”
“Given the mind–numbing tedium of the vast majority of diplomatic negotiations I have suffered through, it could start a delightful trend. Shall I bring up the first of the series?”
Moire nodded. The runabout was drifting closer, and she kept a careful eye on the armed crab to see if there was any hostile reaction. The screen output was also being displayed on another, smaller screen on the comm console. George had really done a good job on short notice. Simple black–and–white images like they had used with Radersent. They already had stylized human and crab outlines in use, so only a few more graphics were needed.
The first sequence showed two humans on one side of a thick line, and two crabs on the other. Letters drifted from one human to the other and back again, and squiggly symbols between the crabs. Then there was just a crab, a human, and a little console. Letters flowed from the human to the console, and came out as the same symbols used between the cartoon crabs, and their symbols changed to letters.
She let that run repeatedly until the runabout was barely five meters away from the watching crabs, and stopped the runabout. The one with the weapon seemed transfixed, and she could see the head tendrils now, only loosely touching the device it held. There were more crabs, too; she could see them in the darkness. One, in fact, that was huge, a third again as big as the others.
“I think we have their attention,” she murmured. “What do you say, Gren? Looks like we have at least five there, including the giant.” Gren just grunted, focused on the screen. “OK, let’s hope they understand we have a translator. Next set.”
This was the tricky part. She was counting on them being completely desperate, or it wouldn’t work. Now the cartoon showed a simplified Frankenstein, an outline of the crab ship, and the runabout going from one to the other. In an inspired bit of design, George had even added the blinking count–sequence to the runabout. The runabout left the human ship, a cartoon crab got on, and both returned to the human ship where a human stood next to the translator.
Gren pursed his lips. “They aren’t gonna go for it.”
“None of their options are ideal,” Harrington said. “And we have no information one way or the other on which they would consider preferable.”
As far as Moire could tell, there was definite death from starvation, freezing, or atmosphere loss, definite death if their enemies found them again, or slightly less–than–definite death chatting with rampaging humans that had not yet shot at them personally.
The minutes stretched on. They had another set of cartoons, reassuringly showing the brave volunteer crab being returned to its ship, but she wanted to keep it simple. Of course the crabs were going to discuss their choices. It would take time.
A few minutes later, there was movement again. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like the giant crab had raised one forelimb, and then the armed crab stepped forward to the edge of the ragged hole in the hull.
“Nuh–uh. No crab marines on my ship.” Moire scooted the runabout back, to make it clear.
“Wait—what’s it doing?” Gren pointed to the screen. The armed crab was removing the device hanging from its neck and offering it to another crab.
“Of course, for all we know they’ve got thermal grenades in their trousers,” Harrington murmured in a voice low enough only she could hear.
“Stop trying to cheer me up,” Moire muttered and gently moved the runabout back to the crab ship, turning it to allow the crab to board. “Looks like we’ve got a passenger. Anybody see if that crab’s holding on?”
“Practically wrapped around the controls, Captain,” Yolanda called down.
“Right. Diplomacy time. Yolanda, Kilberton, stay at your positions, same orders. Interrupt any time you feel like it, your comms have priority override. Gren, get back to the engines and lock down. Everybody, be ready to go the instant I say the word. Any questions?”
Gren looked like he had a lot of complaints, but he just sighed, shook his head, and clomped out. Kilberton hesitated, then said, “I would feel better if you were armed.”
“I’ve already got two people with rifles in the cargo area and more in the corridor,” Moire said. “We don’t have a lot of vacuum–capable guns and they’re pretty noticeable.”
“Take a knife,” Yolanda called down. “Crab’s in a suit, all you’d have to do is cut it.” Something tumbled down and hit the deck—a knife in an arm sheath. Moire took it out. It was a dark, oily–looking blade. Ferroceramic.
Well, she could handle that better than a gun, and it would make her crew happier. “Thanks. Wish me luck.”
Moire trotted down the corridors to where the armed crew was gathered. Her suit was waiting, and she hastily put it on, remembering to strap on the knife. It barely fit over the suit. She toggled the comm. “Kilberton, where’s the crab?”
“Just now coming up. I am about to turn it around the ship.”
“Can you get it through the hole in the hold?”
“Perwaty has the vid set up; it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Moire negotiated the pressure doors between the corridors and the still–ventilated cargo hold, and started down the damaged stairs. She could see two suited figures shifting debris away from the hole in the hull—that was good. Not very polite to damage their visitor before they’d even had a chance to talk, after all.
There it was. A little silver dot, getting closer. A darker, irregular shape visible on top, partly obscured by the display screen attached to the runabout. She checked to make sure the knife was secure.
“OK, everyone, let’s keep it tight. Rifles, get in position and check your field of fire. Mr. Harrington has volunteered to be Ship’s Greeter; please do not shoot him.” She’d argued that since it was her idea, she should be the one to take point, but there had been a minor insurrection and she’d had to back down. Moire wondered where all the unfettered power of command was and when she would get it. Everyone agreed, however, that the Created were to stay in their rooms with the doors locked from the outside, no matter how “unfair” it was.
The runabout slowly drifted through the hole in the hull. They’d launched it from there so they knew it would fit, but now it had a fairly bulky passenger and limited visibility to guide it.
“Harrington—get on the command channel and help Kilberton guide it in. Is there enough room, or should we run out a gangplank?”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Captain. Although appropriate and in keeping with your piratical cover, the allusion would, I believe, be lost on our guest.” Harrington broke off and started giving directions to avoid a collision with a twisted beam before she could respond in kind.
She could see the crab distinctly now, hunkered down and holding on with every available appendage. She wondered what it was thinking. Incoherent desperation?
“Right, that’s a good spot—set it down,” Harrington said. The crab didn’t move when the runabout rested on the deck. Harrington moved closer, and Moire thought she saw the crab twitch.
“Hang on a second. I think our crab is a bit nervous.”
He stopped. “We don’t have an infinite amount of time, Captain,” he said, turning to look at her.
“I am aware. Try waving and pointing, or something.”
That at least got the crab’s attention, and when Harrington started walking toward Radersent’s quarters, then stopping and looking back at the crab, eventually the message got through. The crab moved slowly and stiffly, head turning with every step. Moire followed at a distance, which had the effect of hurrying the crab. She could tell when the crab airlock came into view—the crab’s tendrils fluttered, and then, strangely, the crab seemed more relaxed. At least, the crab only balked a little at entering the airlock with Harrington.
“That’s a brave crab, all right,” Moire commented, moving for the human side of the setup. “From what Radersent told us, these guys still have us confused with their long–lost enemy.”
“Oh yeah, those Breakers or whatever,” Yolanda chimed in. “Still no movement from that ship, Captain. Ran a scan just now. Their IR profile is degrading, and the rest too. I think that ship is dead. No kinda power anywhere.”
Well. Interesting, and provided a possible reason for their cooperation. Gradual heat loss in a suit was a very slow and unpleasant way to die.
Through the window was an interesting scene—two humans, two crabs. Perwaty was kneeling by Radersent. The other crab was standing nearby, and Moire could tell they were talking. Tendrils rustled; in Radersent’s case, weakly, but he was still moving. The other crab had deflated its suit helmet.
It was very strange how much her idea of a crab was based on Radersent. This crab had a narrower head that seemed lean and hollowed out, comparatively. The skin was grey, shaded in places, but with none of the dark marks Radersent had.
“Visitor’s in the crab quarters,” Moire said for the benefit of those outside. “Radersent’s having a chat. So far so good.”
Something going on. More crab talking, Radersent trying to move his one working forelimb. His tendrils extending, holding still. Pointing to the console.
The strange crab moved. It saw her in the window and cringed, almost collapsing to the ground. Had she startled it? No, it was holding the same position. Then its tendrils went out, fully, in a fan shape. It was almost exactly what Radersent did when he saw her, except this crab did not show its throat.
Still staying low, it shifted closer to the console. Even with Radersent providing help, the device seemed to puzzle it. After few minutes it managed to send a message.
THIS HE BELONG SHE SHIP COMPONENT LEFT RIGHT UP DOWN YES GO.
Moire raised an eyebrow. This could take a while. Radersent had clearly adapted to human speech modes, and they didn’t have two years to train this one. Well, first things first.
QUERY NAME, she sent.
THIS HE ENGINE FOUR WATCH was the reply. Good enough. Engine Four Watch appeared to be watching her with apprehension, judging from the taut tendrils.
Moire sent HUMAN NOT BREAK CRAB SMALL SHIP. QUERY CRAB SMALL SHIP BREAK HUMAN.
Some discussion with Radersent, then careful manipulation of the console. CRAB SMALL SHIP BROKEN NOT BREAK HUMAN BROKEN BROKEN NO FIGHT HELP.
That seemed to be OK too. The last bit was a trifle obscure, but the message confirmed her suspicions and gave her hope. Now for the big one.
RADERSENT NEED FIX. QUERY CRAB SMALL SHIP FIX RADERSENT YES.
“Captain, I’m seeing some strange signals on the scan,” Kilberton broke in. “Coming from our position.”
“Yeah, not really surprising. Probably Engine Four Watch here calling back for instructions. He’s got to have some kind of commlink; I wouldn’t send one of my people out without one. Keep an eye on it and record if you can.”
Engine Four Watch appeared to have received instructions, and was now eagerly sending a message. QUERY HUMAN MOVE CRAB STAR STAR SMALL SHIP YES HELP.
“Huh. That I was not expecting. Radersent must have told them about Frankenstein,” Moire said.
“Move the ship in webspace?” Kilberton asked. “That is what came over the link here; is that really what he said?”
“Apparently. I agree this isn’t a healthy neighborhood, but I would have thought they would want help getting their ship working again.”
“We can’t fix their tech, but we can take ‘em where someone can—and that would be crabs with working ships. And guns. I don’t like it,” Gren said pointedly.
“Yeah, and we have working guns too, or will as soon as you get the ammo feed fixed,” Moire replied. “Look at it from their perspective. They’d be introducing armed, dangerous aliens somewhere they call home. If we take them via webspace they can’t call ahead and set up an ambush either. We can work something out where we just go, dump ‘em, and leave. Straight reversal, don’t even need to change lineup.”
“Huh.” Gren was silent, thinking.
“It is true,” Kilberton said. “If we know we will do no changes, a simple dropout to normal space and back again is very quick. We would only need to know how long to drop out to safely release their ship.”
Yeah, wouldn’t want to smash these guys up like the wreck they had been towing. That would be rude. Moire thought for a few minutes, reviewing the options, the dangers. They needed more information, such as where the crabs wanted to be dropped off, and how bad their life support situation was, and the prognosis on getting Radersent back on his pseudopods.
“Harrington and Perwaty, you guys take over the questions. See if you can get coordinates worked out, but don’t show them any starmaps with station names, OK? Everybody else, officers' meeting on the bridge. You too, Gren. Get Ivers to lock down again after you leave.”
The mood was serious but not somber on the bridge, which Moire considered a good sign.
“Comms off? OK, people, tell me what you think. Is this too much of a risk for you?”
After an initial hesitation, Yolanda Menehune said, “How sure are we they aren’t gonna lead us into a trap?”
“They can try, but I don’t see how they can get us in time without shooting their guys. And I think we can agree these crabs are in fact stuck in a dying ship and desperate to stay alive. So, they will want to get to someplace they regard as safe. Hence, no withering cross fire. Not until the ship is free anyway, and by then we’ll be gone.”
Gren sighed. “Still a risk. Is it worth it?”
“We can learn more about the crabs, which might help Fleet,” Kilberton pointed out. “Besides, Radersent will die if he does not receive medical attention. They have agreed to help him if we help them, and we should keep our word.”
“I’m worried about their ship,” Gren said, surprisingly. “How are they gonna stay alive long enough to get where they want to go?”
“If there are problems they must have some way to deal with it,” said Moire. “All Engine Four Watch asked about was a tow. Any other questions?” Nobody said anything. “Right. Vote. In favor of crab rescue?”
The only vote against was Gren. “I don’t want Radersent to die, but I just don’t trust ‘em!” he said. “We got the whole ship to think about.”
“You’re right. I’m worried about that too, so I want you to come up with countermeasures. They can’t get up to much when they are in tow, but let’s make sure it can’t happen at all.” Moire switched on the bridge connection to the crab communication console and enabled the general commlink to Perwaty and Harrington. “Hey, how’s the interrogation going? Got the location?”
“Er, yes. We think so.” The note of constraint in Harrington’s voice was noticeable. “Captain, there may be a disturbing development. Perwaty thought to ask what they were doing in the middle of nowhere.”
“And?”
“Well, if I understand this correctly—'star–star' is the way to say webspace, correct? They were on their way somewhere else, the location they gave us, in fact, and they were forced out.”
Moire frowned, not understanding, then drew a deep breath. “Forced out of webspace? By those two enemy ships?” That was impossible. Webspace was safe; nobody could detect a ship in drive until it dropped out of the gravity bubble. And yet…
“Gren. What would have happened if we had kept going with the anomaly building like it was?”
He stared at her. “The instability would collapse the—oh. They did that to us? But…I’ve never heard of this before.”
“Probably because it worked,” Yolanda said sourly.
Moire shook her head. It was starting to make sense, finally. “No. It happened to us because we had a section of ship that looked, gravitics–wise, like a crab ship! Remember? We tuned it that way to tow the one Radersent came from and never changed it. That’s why we landed in the middle of that fight! The bad guys were after that little ship but got us too.”
“Then it could work for human ships.” Kilberton’s normally dark face was an unhealthy grey. “It’s just tuning. They could do it to us. They have a way of scanning webspace. Fleet,” he said carefully, “needs to know this.”
Chapter 6
Base Canards
“Hey, there he is!”
Ennis looked up from his datapad and stifled a grin. His contact, the guy he’d been waiting for in the commons for the last hour, was standing in the doorway with a stunned what–did–I–do expression.
“Don’t worry, Max. I’m the one who’s in trouble. Or would be, if I was guilty as accused. Go ahead, show ‘em what you brought me.”
