Strider's Galaxy (25 page)

Yet again Strider wondered who was in charge of her ship. First the Images and now Polyaggle were taking command decisions for her.

"Don't I have any say in this?"

Strider felt a wave of astonishment from the alien.

"Of course not," said Polyaggle. "I know what I am doing. You cannot—you have not lived all your life in The Wondervale, as I have."

Strider drew a deep breath.

"But I am the captain of this ship," she said, "and you are merely a guest. I don't know how you Spindrifters work out—worked out—such things, but we Humans operate on the principle that there's someone who's in charge." She tried to submerge her anger. "While you're aboard the
Santa Maria
I'd be grateful if you could operate according to Human protocols, not your own."

Polyaggle looked to Pinocchio. "Captain Strider is right," he said.

"This seems very foolish," remarked the alien. "Surely everyone should do what is right, without having to be instructed."

"It's not the way we Humans work," said Strider. "We
cooperate
with each other to achieve our best results. And someone has to oversee the cooperation. In this instance it's me. If you have any bright ideas about what we should do, tell me about them so that I can consider them. If I make the wrong decision, shout at me until I make the right one. But don't just go ahead and make decisions on my behalf without asking me first."

"Your point is understood," said Polyaggle swiftly—rather too swiftly, Strider decided. "I will not commit such a discourtesy again. I have much to learn about your mores."

And that,
thought Strider,
sounded like just about the most unconvincing climb-down I've ever heard.

"Your apology is accepted," she said formally. She turned her attention back to the Pocket in front of her. The
Santa Maria
continued to orbit the lifeless planet. There was no sign of any alien spacecraft in the vicinity, although Strider didn't know how she would be able to identify it if there were any. Using the tachyon drive, a hostile starship could be right beside the
Santa Maria
without any warning at all. She hoped that the Autarchy had decided the Humans were unimportant—that was the only explanation she could think of for why they had been allowed to flee from Spindrift's moon and why they had been thereafter unmolested.

"I wish to examine your Main Computer," said Polyaggle.

Pinocchio had finished downloading. "Feel free," said Strider, concentrating on the Pocket.

She looked up just in time to see Polyaggle disintegrating into thousands—hundreds of thousands—of disparate parts. The pieces flew with a speed that baffled the eye to form a thin film all over the walls of the command deck: only the floor and the view-window were left uncovered. Then the fragments melted into the walls, so that it was as if Polyaggle had never been.

"Good trick if you can do it," said Strider to Pinocchio with a shrug. She seemed to have lost the capacity for surprise—too many things had been happening, and too fast. Had Polyaggle proved capable of turning nearby stars into supernovae Strider might have raised an eyebrow. As it was, she just assumed the Spindrifter was some kind of colonial organism, and turned back to her task.

"I cannot," said Pinocchio, taking the remark literally. "Can you?"

#

Kaantalech had of course expected the Humans to run for cover, but also that she would be able to keep an eye on them. Instead it seemed that they had disappeared entirely from the face of The Wondervale. Perhaps they had gone home to wherever it was they had come from—or perhaps, after all, they'd gone on to their mysterious extra-galactic destination, Tau Ceti
II
. That wouldn't be a complete disaster, but it certainly wouldn't be as good as it could be. She
wanted
the Humans: more precisely, she wanted that technology.

The destruction of Spindrift had been very satisfying. The extirpation of the Spindrifters meant that there was one less species to attempt to counter her efforts once she had assumed the Autarchy. More to the point was the almost orgasmic joy she had experienced on sensing all those lives being extinguished. Even if the act had been unnecessary, it would have been worth it for those few moments.

"
Find them!
" she snapped at an aide, knowing even as she gave the order that it was worthless. The Humans had somehow managed to skip off the edges of the map, again. She wondered if they had had help. The aide gave a snort of salute, then rushed off to do his best to follow Kaantalech's command. There was the faintest of possibilities that he might be able to obey the instruction.

Kaantalech wondered when she should holo the Autarch with a progress report. He would be as delighted as she by the destruction of a supposedly minor world that had proved, instead, to be a technologically advanced potential hotbed of rebellion. On the other hand, he would probably want her to eradicate all the other seemingly insignificant worlds, on the basis that they, too, might one day be a threat to him. She wanted that threat to remain. Kaantalech knew better than the Autarch that many of the neutral worlds of The Wondervale were simply seeking an excuse to strike back against the tyranny. When the right time came—when she occupied the throne in Qitanefermeartha—she would issue orders for those worlds' destruction; she might even give herself the pleasure of leading some of the missions in person. But for the moment she had to play the game carefully.

There is no greater enjoyment than the anticipation of delight to come.

The first thing to do, though, was to find the Humans.

#

The left-hand communications Pocket surged into life. Pinocchio was nearer to it than Strider.

The creature displaying itself in the Pocket looked—Pinocchio checked his internal databanks—roughly like a terrestrial leech, but it had two blind heads and its slickly wet outer skin was covered with what seemed to be lesions; Pinocchio suspected these were sensory organs of some kind.

He looked over towards Strider. "We have company."

"Let me see," she said.

The thing in the Pocket made a few noises that sounded to her ears like the farts you perform when you are absolutely certain there is no one within earshot. Then Ten Per Cent Extra Free cut in, and the farts became words.

." . . communication from your Images. We are not seventeen parsecs from your current position, and like yourselves wish to see an end to the Autarchy."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it."

"Ask your Images."

THE PERSON IN THE POCKET IS AN ACCREDITED SPEAKER FOR THE HELGIOLATH,
said Ten Per Cent Extra Free.
THEIR WORLD WAS TORCHED BY THE AUTARCHY ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO, AND SINCE THEN THEY HAVE LIVED NOMADICALLY. YOU CAN TRUST THEM.

"How much?" Strider subvocalized.

Implicitly.

"Do they all look as bad as this?"

YOU'RE ASKING ME TO MAKE A JUDGMENT ABOUT THE BEAUTIES OF FLESHLY INDIVIDUALS,
said Ten Per Cent Extra Free blandly.
THE HELGIOLATH LOOK AS GOOD TO ME AS YOU DO YOURSELF, CAPTAIN LEONIE STRIDER.

"Not very, huh?"

I ADVISE YOU TO SPEAK WITH THE SPEAKER, WHOSE NAME IS ANRABH'IT RE'ETLIKA'N ARB'ORTHIA'BBA KORTLAND BUR'CRAN'SKEWGI'LL MEARA'SHEEM'A. HE WILL RESPOND TO THE NAME KORTLAND.

"Thank Umbel for that," subvocalized Strider. Out loud she said: "Our Images tell me that you are called Kortland."

"It is part of my name. You may designate me thus. I would prefer that you used my entire name, but I understand that it is difficult for your people to pronounce in full."

"My name is Strider. That's not my full name either, but I'm content to be addressed by it."

"We already know this. Your Images informed us. They also told us that you have a Spindrifter on board."

"The last of the Spindrifters," said Strider. She hated herself for having to say the words. "The rest of her species is dead."

"Yeah, I heard about that," said Kortland easily. "Ugly lot of buggers though, weren't they?"

"They were sentient beings," said Strider. "As you are. As we are."

"True, there was that to be said for them."

Strider thought for a moment. "Just whose side are you on?" she said at last.

"Any side that will see the destruction of the Autarchy."

"And after that?"

"Then we can go to the safety of the muds of some uncolonized planet. We Helgiolath never wanted to be a spacefaring species. It was something forced upon us."

Strider wished she could conquer her revulsion and start to learn something of the Helgiolath's body language.

"Why do you think we can help you?" she said.

"We are not especially interested in you Humans, Strider," said Kortland, "but your Images could be of considerable assistance to us, as could the Spindrifter. As far as we are concerned, you are useful in that you offer them porterage."

"That's frank," said Strider.

"You mean?"

"Truthful. Honest."

"We are an honest species."

"Then let me be equally honest in return. I don't want your help under these circumstances." She hoped that Ten Per Cent Extra Free wasn't transmitting too much of her underlying fury. It was probably a safe assumption. She was receiving no emotion whatsoever from the Helgiolath.

"What have you got to offer us?" said the alien with apparent disinterest.

"We saw off Maglittel."

"That is exceptionally good news—although your Images told us that in fact it was them who killed it."

Now Strider was beginning to pick up, through the translation, an emotion—impatience. "They couldn't have done it without us," she said.

"That is true."

"So we're as much a part of the package as they are."

The alien said nothing for a few seconds.

"That, too, is true," he said eventually.

"Then hadn't you better stop being quite so frank?" said Strider. "We may not be as advanced a species as the Helgiolath, but our Images wouldn't have adopted us had we been totally useless. Do me the favor of thinking about that—don't just dismiss the idea out of hand."

Again there was a pause before the Helgiolath responded. "I do not understand why we are arguing. You are a single ship, which we wish to aid. I am in command of a fleet of seven thousand six hundred and ninety-two warcruisers and ancillary vessels."

"Ah," said Strider.

"So if you would like to join us, you are welcome."

"I must discuss this with my personnel."

"That is understood. I shall contact you again shortly." The communications Pocket went blank.

"What the hell does 'shortly' mean?" Strider said to Pinocchio. "A minute, an hour, a week, a month?"

"Who can tell?" said the bot.

"You're supposed to answer questions, not ask them," she said.

"Am I?"

She laughed briefly, humorlessly. "What do
you
think we should do?"

"I think we should join forces with the Helgiolath."

"Why?"

"Alone, the
Santa Maria
can do nothing except run from the forces of the Autarchy. Sooner or later we'll be caught. But in the middle of the Helgiolath fleet we have a good chance of survival—for statistical reasons if not for any other. And if Polyaggle succeeds in reconstituting enough of the Main Computer we may even be able to make our way back to the Solar System."

"But can we trust them?" she said, more to herself than to the bot. "For all we know, the Helgiolath might be just as bad as the Autarchy."

"They know where we are," observed Pinocchio. "If they'd wanted to, they could have blown us out of space by now."

Strider thought about this. The bot was right. If the
Santa Maria
was going to survive in The Wondervale she was going to have to make alliances. Part of Strider's reluctance to do so came about because of what had happened to the Spindrifters, but also, she recognized, there was more than a trace of xenophobia in her thinking. She knew it was illogical, but the fact that Kortland looked so hideous to human eyes made it difficult to trust the creature.

Not the "creature." The "person." She had to set herself straight on that. Members of any species capable of mounting a fleet of seven thousand six hundred and ninety-two starships were definitely "people." To date the human species had managed to launch exactly one, and in terms of the mission for which it had been designed it had not been exactly a dramatic success. The real question was whether the Helgiolath were good or bad people.

IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO JOIN THE HELGIOLATH, WE IMAGES WILL DO SO INDEPENDENTLY OF YOURSELVES,
said Ten Per Cent Extra Free crisply.

The words jolted Strider. "Can you run that past me again?" she said.

WAR IS NOT AESTHETIC, AND THIS GALAXY IS UNDERGOING A STATE OF PERPETUAL WAR. THIS IS A CONDITION WHICH WE IMAGES WOULD LIKE TO SEE ENDED. THE HELGIOLATH ARE MORE LIKELY TO BRING ABOUT THE DOWNFALL OF THE AUTARCHY THAN IS A SINGLE HUMAN SHIP COMMANDED BY SOMEONE WHO IS INEXPERIENCED IN THE CONDUCT OF SPACE WAR. IT THEREFORE MAKES MORE SENSE FOR US TO ALLY OURSELVES WITH THE HELGIOLATH.

"You'd desert us?"

THERE ARE FEWER THAN FIFTY BEINGS ABOARD THIS SHIP. BY ALLYING OURSELVES WITH THE HELGIOLATH WE MIGHT SAVE THE LIVES OF MILLIONS. IN OUR POSITION, WHICH CHOICE WOULD
YOU
MAKE?

"Yeah. OK." She paced to the far end of the command deck, and then came back again. "See if you can re-establish contact with Kortland."

There was a subtle shifting of colors in the communications Pocket, and then she found herself facing the Helgiolath once again.

"You have consulted your people?" said the alien. Kortland seemed even uglier than before.

"No," said Strider. "I've consulted a bot and an Image. They've made a fairly convincing case."

"You will join us?"

"You bet. Give me your co-ordinates."

"Your Images already know them."

#

The myriad entities that were also the single entity of Polyaggle wormed their way through the dead landscape that had once been the consciousness of the Main Computer. There were wastes that could, she knew, never be recovered: they appeared to her like cities that had been nuked, with buildings shattered and fallen and the tang of death in the air. But there were other areas where life clung on. Swarms of her gravitated towards each of them.