The Ship Who Sang (16 page)

None of this was obvious from the even tone of his courteous suggestions, but it was most apparent to the others. And to Helva, Ansra's behavior was doubly inexcusable.

Once Helva had withdrawn, Kurla announced that it was time to eat a hot decent meal. She then insisted that they all get some sleep. Helva watched surreptitiously as Kurla ran a quick medical check on Prane. She, too, was amazed that the Solar was in remarkably strong vigor after such an intense and long rehearsal.

‘You've got to rest, Solar Prane. I don't care what the recorder says. You can't put forth the
energy you did today without replenishing it in sleep,' Kurla said firmly. ‘
I'm
tired! And
you've
another planetfall to make.'

He made a boyish grimace but lay back on the shock-mattress, his eyes closed, one hand on his chest.

Tenderly Kurla covered his long, lax body. She turned abruptly and let her motion carry her quickly from the cabin. Prane's eyes flew open and the look in his eyes was almost more than Helva could morally observe. So Kurla was indeed the sun of Prane's regard and Ansra, the envious moon, already sick and pale with grief . . .

Helva was overwhelmingly relieved that she'd be out of this affair in a scant day's time. And yet, Ansra had been indiscreet enough to hint at action more vengeful than envious. Would the fact that she now knew Helva was no automaton inhibit her plans?

The passengers began to sleep. All, that is, except Prane. He began Richard III, with Gloucester's ‘Now is the winter of our discontent' to Richmond's ‘Peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!' Considering the day's proceedings Helva thought that choice of sleep-conjuring all too appropriate. If mindtrap produced such perfect recall . . .

Some time toward dawn of that day, Helva remembered a detail, and berating herself for incredible obtuseness, contacted Regulus on the tight beam.

‘Good to hear your voice, Helva,' Central Com responded with marked affability.

‘I distrust such geniality from you. What is being cooked up for me? Not another brawnless assignment – because I'll refuse it. I've got rights and I'll invoke 'em.'

‘My, we're touchy. How can you be so suspicious? And so crass?'

‘So you'll know exactly how I stand. Now listen to me, is there a free accommodation, no, make it a suite . . . on the Orbital Station in the free-fall section?'

‘I'll check, but why?'

‘Check and answer.'

‘Aye-firmative.'

‘Great. I request that it be assigned Solar Prane and such of his company as accept. We've been running in free-fall, in preparation for their assignment and they ought not to have a readjust to full-grav.'

‘Good suggestion. But doesn't such an assignment tempt you, Helva?'

‘Don't use that wheedling tone with me, Central.'

‘When you obviously have taken their welfare to heart enough to request orbital accommodations for Solar Prane?'

Helva caught herself. She mustn't sound so concerned.

‘I was raised to be considerate. Just seems a shame to set back the progress they've made in free-fall adjustment.'

‘No problem, Helva. This Beta Corvi mission has topmost priority.'

‘Say, I'm curious about this psyche transfer bit . . .'

‘Hold it, gal. Ask me no questions, since you've made it so plain where you stand.'

‘Okay, I'll stand off, but I think it's petty of you,' and she closed the tight beam.

Until her passengers awoke, Helva pondered Central's comments. They wanted her for this: well, they could beg, blandish and bribe, but she was resolved to resist all bait until she was partnered.

She did not bother to inform any of her passengers of her sublight arrangements with Central, but connected with the proper hatch at the Orbital Station as if this had been her programmed destination. Regulus IV swam beneath them, brilliant in the reflection of its primary.

‘We were told we'd be landing at Regulus Base,' Ansra protested as she looked into the lock of the Station. She glared threateningly at the startled lock attendant, drifting midportal.

‘Free-fall?' Davo exclaimed. ‘I'd rather stay here.'

‘This is ridiculous,' Ansra went on, directing herself to the confused attendant. ‘I demand to be taken to the Base. I demand to see the official in charge of this assignment.'

‘The XH-834 is scheduled to land at Base as
soon as she has discharged her passengers here, Miss Colmer,' the man said placatingly.

‘If you will move into the main cabin, Miss Colmer, I can close the locks now,' Helva said, for Prane and Kurla had pushed into the Station lock.

Ducking around Ansra, the attendant sent the luggage, piled in the lock, spinning stationward. As soon as he was clear, Helva closed her outer portal. Ansra was forced to step inside.

‘Just wait till I report you, you . . . you . . .'

‘Thing? Informer? Abomination? Fink?' Helva tendered helpfully.

‘I'll have you decommissioned, you tin-plated bitch!'

Just then Helva applied thrust sufficient to send Ansra, accustomed to free-fall, reeling backward into the nearby couch. And kept her there cursing steadily and viciously, all through re-entry and touchdown.

‘You'll regret that insolence, too, you bodiless Bernhardt,' was Ansra's parting taunt as she staggered to the passenger lift.

‘Sorry you had trouble enduring standard re-entry maneuvers, Miss Colmer. You were advised to remain on the Station,' Helva boomed on her exterior speaker, for the benefit of the vehicle waiting to take the woman the short distance to the Main Administration Complex before which Helva had landed. ‘Hey, Helva, what did you do to that Colmer creature?' Central Com asked her on the private beam a little while later. ‘If you
weren't in good odor with the powers-that-preside, you'd be in for an official reprimand and a fine. She's got some good friends in high places, you know.'

‘So that's how she got this assignment.'

‘Hey, gal, I'm on your side, but that kind of remark . . .'

‘If I wanted to be nasty, I'd play back some of the honest-to-goodness, unexpurgated, uncensored, deathless movements of my most recent trip through the vacuum of outer space.'

‘Like, for instance?'

‘I said, if I
wanted
to be nasty.' She cut the contact and looked around for more sympathetic company.

Crowding the Administration landing acres were no less than 20 brain ships. A veritable convention? Old home week? She spotted Amon, right up in the front row with five of her own class. When she tried to signal the VL-834, she couldn't get through. In fact, she couldn't get a line into any of her peers: the ship-to-ship frequencies were overloaded.

Was everyone aspiring to that damned Beta Corvi assignment? She ought to warn 'em off. She called the traffic tower to ask for another landing slot, preferably nearer the brawn barracks. There must be other ships on the 20 kilometers-square base interested in chatting with her.

‘So nice to hear from you,' Cencom cut in over
Traffic Control. ‘Orders are for you to stay put, loudmouth.'

‘Can I at least have some company? From the brawn barracks? Remember? I was promised a brawn
this
time. And this time I'd better get one. If you knew what this poor lone female, totally unprotected from . . .'

‘I
can
promise you company,' Cencom grudgingly admitted and cut off.

Helva waited, her circuits open, her passenger lift invitingly grounded. And waited. She was beginning to experience justifiable irritation when she received a boarding request. Activating the lift eagerly, she was disappointed to scan only one figure gliding up to her lock.

‘You're not a brawn.'

‘Thanks, pal,' the wiry small man said in an all-too-familiar voice.

‘You're . . .'

‘Niall Parollan, of Regulus, your coordinating communications officer, Planet Grade, Section Supervisor, Central Worlds BB Ship Division.'

‘You've got your nerve.'

He grinned amiably at her, not the least bit intimidated by her booming. ‘You've enough for four of me, dear.' He used the manual switch to close the lock and sauntered over to the couch that faced her column. His uniform was regulation, but it had been tailored to fit his short, well-proportioned body: the boots he wore were Mizar gray lizard and molded the calf of his leg.

‘Make yourself at home.'

‘I intend to. Feel I ought to get to know you better now I'm your supervisor.'

‘Why?'

He gave her a wicked stare and smiled, showing very white even teeth.

‘I wanted to see just why such a storm is raging over the possession of one Helva, the XH-834.'

‘Among brawns?' She was gratified.

‘You sound hungry. Need your nutrients checked?'

‘I don't trust you, Parollan,' Helva announced after a pause. ‘There is nothing to see . . . of Helva.'

‘Now, there's where you're wrong, girl,' and he rubbed one short-fingered, broad-palmed hand across his mouth and chin. ‘Yes, there is something about you . . .'

‘I had a new spray job at Nekkar.'

‘I know. I checked accounting.'

‘The ingrates. Thought I got that free.' Then, as he chuckled at her surprise, she added, ‘If you've been checking my standing, you know I'm well able to afford any penalties for refusing assignment.'

‘Oh ho, you bite, too,' crowed Niall, rocking back and forth in an excess of delight. ‘Don't fool you, do I?'

‘Not for a microsecond. I want a brawn, Parollan, not a snippy little mouthpiece like you.'

He roared with delight.

‘Now I see why.' Then suddenly he was completely serious. He leaned forward, his eyes on her panel in an attitude so familiar it gave her a frightful wrench. Then he was talking and she listened.

‘Item: the Beta Corvi assignment will require an unusual exercise of diplomacy on the part of both partners, as brain and brawn will be in direct contact with the Corviki throughout the mission. The shell person has the additional responsibility of direct and discretionary control over the Corviki psyche transfer mechanisms – a control which will necessitate the use of an additional synapse connection.'

Helva made a whistling sound. At the least, it meant opening the titanium column, a difficult experience for any shell person: at the worst, actual penetration of the shell that would be traumatic to most.

‘Ships of the two most recent classes would require no shell penetration. They were already fitted with supplemental leads, placed in the cerebral areas required by this connection, in case future modifications might be needed.'

‘That would leave Amon out,' Helva said.

‘He's out anyhow,' Niall affirmed. ‘He never heard of Shakespeare and his brawn couldn't act his way out of a saloon brawl.'

‘The brawn has to act, too? Well, that obviously lets me out as I have no brawn at the moment, do I?'

‘God spare me your tongue when you're really mad. Actually Chadress Turo has been called back on active duty . . .'

‘Another temporary? No, absolutely not.'

‘For this assignment, some ships would change brawns in a flash. Blast it all, Helva,' Parollan shouted, ‘don't be such an ass. Listen to me. You've never before been stubborn for the wrong reasons.'

Helva digested that unpalatable charge in silence.

‘I'll listen.'

‘That's more like my Helva.'

‘I'm not
your
Helva.'

‘You sound like Ansra Colmer.'

Helva sputtered indignantly.

‘You do, throwing your weight around . . .' Niall insisted.

‘She hasn't been trying to scratch Solar Prane from the mission, has she? Because if she has . . .'

‘She's got very influential backing,' Niall said, but something in his attitude, a certain tenseness, a sly gleam in his eye, warned Helva.

She chuckled softly, watching the effect on him. He reacted.

‘I thought so,' she laughed aloud. ‘Her backing won't mean anything if the probability curve still favors Prane. And nothing's occurred to change that, has it?'

‘Trust actors to blab all over the place,' Niall growled, his features screwed up into a sour
expression. ‘You must have stayed up all night listening to their nightmares.'

‘I told you there had been some real interesting lifelike dramatic interludes. Let me know if she leans too hard on Prane.'

Niall's head shot up, his face cleared of disappointment.

‘Look, Helva, can't you see how valuable you'd be? You're on to Ansra. Do you realize she's gone from ship to ship, sounding out brains and brawn? That
she's
recommending the properly sympathetic partnership to Chief Railly which will aid and abet the success of the mission?'

‘Wouldn't put it past her. If I were you, I'd get Davo Fillanaser to cite the jeopardy clause on her. She means to upstage Romeo.'

‘
I
know it!' Niall exploded from the couch, pacing the cabin. ‘And you know it. But she does have pull and the probability profile still favors her as Juliet. We can't shake it. We
need
you!'

Pointedly, Helva said nothing.

‘Prane asked if you were available.'

‘Is this an official notice of mission, supervisor?'

‘It carries a triple bonus, Helva.' He was not capitulating.

‘I wouldn't care if it carried a free maintenance ticket for my operable lifetime, Parollan. I know my rights. Is this an official notice of mission?'

‘You stubborn, fardling jackass of a
titanium-coated virgin!' shouted Parollan. He turned on his heel and pounded out of the cabin, slapped up the lock release and jammed down the lift control, descending without another look in her direction.