John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel (10 page)

However, there was one exception. Young Vivers, before being judged fit to reproduce, had to undergo a period of exile during which they were expected to take part in wars and other adventures of a violent sort. It was for this last reason that the
Space Angel
was calling upon the good ship
K'Tchak.

The Viver ship resembled a collection of buildings held together with tubes and braces, and, essentially, that was what it was. Built in space, it was never intended to land. The craft had to be big, for it contained almost all of the clan K'Tchak, and additions were made as the clan expanded. Despite their horrible tempers, Vivers liked the company of their own land and ran to large families. It was all part of their obsession with survival.

As she approached, the
Angel
had about a fleet's worth of armament trained on her. This was not because of her new weaponry; lifeboats received the same treatment from a Viver clan ship. Torwald gave a few passwords over the ship-to-ship and obtained grudging permission to go aboard, alone. As a security precaution, the skipper insisted that Torwald carry a scanner giving full aural and visual communication with those aboard the
Angel.
The Vivers did not object to the procedure; Vivers understood all about security precautions.

The remainder of the
Space-Angel'
s crew gathered on the bridge to monitor the proceedings. Torwald was met at the lock by a dozen or so heavily armed Vivers who escorted him down a dreary corridor to an unmarked cubicle that contained no furnishings but a desk. Aboard a Viver ship, all was bare, functional, Spartan. Behind the desk sat a Viver whose high rank was plain from the jeweled handles of his weapons. Weapon decoration was the high point of Viver aesthetics. The official wasted no time on introductions.

"What business have you with the glorious K'Tchak?"

"Our mission is one of extreme danger. If you have one or two young people who are due for their adulthood ritual, it would be a good test for them."

"You do well for yourselves to ask. Soft people like you are not well suited to strenuous tasks. Yes, we have two such. Their names are K'Stin and B'Shant.

They are of the best families. The glory of their bodies shines even among Vivers. Among you pulpy persons, their beauty and durability shall be as diamonds among mushrooms."

"I am sure that they are as hard to kill as a pack of ship rats," Torwald replied courteously. "Would they like to come with us?"

"Who cares what they want?" the official snorted. "It is time for them to go, so they go. If they do not come back, they will have failed. Return to your ship now. The sight of their degenerate parent stock may corrupt our young. The two shall be sent to you shortly."

The crew met Torwald upon his return to the
Angel,
eager to know what to expect.

"The Vivers must be training diplomats," Torwald said. "I never met one before who was so suave and urbane."

"All right," said the skipper, "let's have it. What are we in for? I've never shipped with a Viver, and I don't think anyone else here has, either."

"First of all, folks, you'll find them a bit overbearing. The Vivers have the utmost contempt for us standard-variety humans. In fact, they're already developing a mythology in which they weren't derived from human stock at all. The idea is as repugnant to them as the theory of the animal origin of humanity was to the Victorians. Also, they react to the slightest threat with devastating violence, so don't step on their, ah, well, they don't have toes, but don't step on
anything.

"Michelle, you won't have to worry about doctoring them because they don't get sick, and anything that gets chopped off grows back. They can metabolize just about anything, so you can feed them fertilizer from Hydroponics if you like."

"What's their language?" Nancy asked.

"The one they use among themselves is secret, but they're accomplished linguists. Their voice boxes can

reproduce almost any sound, and they can speak and hear well into the super- and subsonics."

"Can we trust them?" Ham asked, lighting up a
cigar.

"As long as they don't think we're deliberately trying lo kill them. They're fantastically suspicious, so we'd better not order them to take any risks that we're not taking, too. Their test is supposed to be dangerous, or it would be meaningless. It's only during this period that any Viver will risk his existence at the orders of a non-Viver."

"Where are you going to billet them?" the skipper asked.

"They'll have to have their own quarters, or else the situation would be too volatile. Luckily, their tastes are pretty simple, so I've decided to put them in the cleaning-equipment room just aft of the hold. I've already moved the equipment to the supply room."

Just then the main lock buzzer announced the arrival of the newcomers, and the skipper cycled the lock open for their new shipmates. The first one through was a seven-footer, followed by a companion about half a foot shorter.

"I am K'Stin," said the taller, "son of K'Tok, who is commander of the
Avenger,
grandson of K'Din, who slew thousands in the battle off Wotan, great-grandson of K'Tang, who built the first great clan ship, and so on back to K'Tchak, founder of the clan. This," he jerked a taloned thumb over his shoulder at the shorter one, "is B'Shant, whose ancestry is not quite as illustrious as mine, but is still quite respectable. He is my ninety-second, cousin by seven lines of parallel descent and forty-four marriage ties, with a number of ambiguous familial tangencies. I am sure that you soft and depraved persons have no appreciation of such things, but you may rejoice in our protective presence."

"Pleased to meet you," the skipper said. "Now, I notice that you two are dripping with weapons, which is fine with me, since most of your duties will involve using them. However, we're now in space, so please hand over your lightbeam and high-velocity projectile weapons, to be put in the ship's arms locker."

Both Vivers drew into defensive postures.

"Nonsense!" shouted K'Stin. "Abandon weapons in the presence of strangers? I make scornful and insulting noises at you! I am struck with mirth at the very idea."

Trouble already. Michelle stepped in diplomatically to smooth things over. "Now, gentlemen, surely you can't anticipate any threat from our feeble selves? I am sure that the eleven of us, armed or unarmed, could be no match for two of the glorious K'Tchak, or even for one. You must understand our anxiety about any device aboard ship that might damage the hull. Even a slight drop in our oxygen level can kill us, though it would be but a slight discomfort to you."

"We never have accidents with weapons," K'Stin said. "You have nothing to fear."

"True, of course, but there is always the possibility of a mechanical malfunction. Besides, the whole point of this exercise, for you, is the endurance of hardship and danger. Suppose you begin by learning to get along without those power weapons?"

With poor grace they gave the skipper their powered arms, dipping into their bags until she had about a half-dozen from each. This did not leave them exactly unarmed. The deck was now littered with swords, clubs, collapsible spears, bows, slings, gar-rotes and a variety of other lethal hardware. The skipper dubiously eyed a bandolier of grenades K'Stin had handed her. "You sure that's all?" she asked.

"They would not let us come heavily armed," K'Stin assured her. "If we need more powerful arms, we must make them. Only the bare essentials are allowed on the manhood test."

Show them their quarters, Kelly," the skipper said. "We leave orbit in twenty minutes. K'Stin, you and B'Shant join us in the mess after you've stowed your gear and we'll fill you in on the mission." Turning to go, she muttered
sotto voce,
"Hah! As if I knew."

"Come along," Torwald urged politely, as he and Kelly ushered the Vivers into the companionway and
id
ward the cleaning-equipment room. Kelly opened ilie hatch to their quarters and showed the pair inside, lie and Torwald had rigged two oversized bunks from tube steel and webbing and added a few shelves made from scrap. The room looked like a monk's cell.

"Will this suit you?" asked Torwald.

"I don't know," K'Stin ventured. "I've never had much taste for luxury."

"Stick with us and we'll make a voluptuary out of you yet."

"Your kinsman doesn't talk much," Kelly observed.

"Of course not. B'Shant is my subordinate since I tore his leg off in the Adolescent Wrestling Rite." K'Stin continued, warming to the subject: "I was also champion in the Grand Post-Adolescent Free-For-All, which is fought with knives and clubs. I received highest marks in dismemberment and marksmanship throughout boyhood. None was better than I at hand weapons—with the exception of K'Tork, who was a little better with the heavy bill hook."

When the Vivers had stowed their belongings, mostly lethal, on the shelves, Torwald conducted them to the mess.

K'Stin looked as puzzled as a Viver can look when he entered. The skipper and Ham were seated at the table, and Sphere occupied its usual place of honor as centerpiece.

"When do we jump to hyper?" K'Stin asked, directing his question at the skipper.

"We already have."

"Foolishness! Impossibility! The effects of interstellar jump are disturbing even to such magnificent creatures as us. Surely I would have noticed. Why do you deceive us?"

"That thing"—the skipper pointed at Sphere—"is a living, unbelievably powerful entity. It possesses the secret of a far more efficient FTL drive that doesn't have the side effects of the Whoopee Drive. It's taking us to the center of the galaxy—"

Both Vivers jumped up, hands on their knives.

"This is insane!" B'Shant yelled, the first words he had spoken since coming aboard.

K'Stin swatted him backhanded across the face for daring to speak first. The blow would have torn an ordinary man's head off. "Silence! I say what is insane around here! And I say this is insane!"

It is quite true.

The Vivers froze for a moment, then K'Stin gobbled out a phrase in a language none of the standard humans understood. Kelly felt a twinge in his ears; apparently some of the words went into the supersonic. Sphere replied in what sounded like the same tongue. The Vivers slowly resumed their seats.

"It knows the Secret Tongue," K'Stin said. "Only a Viver should know that, and that thing is no Viver. How old is it?" A typical Viver question.

My age is so great that it could not be encompassed in your mathematics. I was old when your galaxy was a cloud of dust and gas.

"I think he exaggerates," K'Stin announced loudly. "Still, to have such knowledge is indicative of estimable longevity. I must refuse this mission, however. The test calls for severe danger, not suicide."

"First off," said Ham, "we can't go back. Old Sphere, there, has complete control of the ship's drive, and it won't tolerate movement that isn't toward the center of the galaxy. But consider a moment: If we complete this mission, whatever that may be, and by some chance return, think what we'll have learned. Think what secrets we'll have discovered and brought hack. K'Stin, would you want us standard humans to have a monopoly on such knowledge?" The mate was learning quickly how to talk to Vivers.

"Knowledge is strength," the Viver mused, nodding. "One can never have too much strength. Also, might we not discover threats at the Center which we Vivers must encounter someday? It would likewise be desirable to learn more about this Sphere thing. There may be more of them, and it does seem to possess an admirable durability. Very well, we go with you willingly. The Grand Council of the Homeworld must receive word of this at all costs. Sphere, what is your mission at the Center?"

Nothing that need concern you. Merely bear in mind that your return home depends upon your success in delivering me to my destination.

"Nancy, how much of the galaxy has been explored by humans?" Kelly asked the question as he helped the Communications officer program her computer. It was the question nagging all of them, now that they had time to reflect. Their adventure became real as they spent long weeks in hyper, longer than any of them had ever spent outside of real space.

"Not much," said Nancy. For several days, Kelly had been able to elicit short sentences from her in addition to instructions in communications and computer handling. "I've read that if you blew up a picture of the galaxy to the size of a sports stadium, the area traversed by humans would be about the size of a peanut."

"And we're about to go millions of times farther than anyone's gone before. I wonder where we are now."

"When you're in hyper, you're not exactly anywhere. Hasn't Finn been giving you lessons in hyperspatial geometry and navigation?"

"Sure, but I really don't understand much. The State schools didn't emphasize the finer points of education, you know." Without his wanting it, Kelly's voice had taken on an edge of bitterness and even a little envy.

"I couldn't read until I was thirteen, Kelly." Nancy was staring at him coolly.

"That's hard to believe."

"My parents were rice farmers on Li Po who worked the Warlord's estate as serfs. When the Commandos unsuccessfully raided to capture the Warlord, I was evacuated with some other children to a refugee ship with the armada. We were lucky. We missed the invasion.