Berserker - Berserker Base Part 11

Through the whole episode Lars remained at least partially conscious of himself attached to the mind-probing machine. When the session was over, he was if anything more tired than he had been after earlier sessions.

Back in the living compound, he drank water thirstily, wishing that he had something strongly alcoholic.

Then, for the time being indifferent to hunger, he crawled into his cell and fell at once into a deep sleep.

And learned where the Carmpan had buried the episode that had just come through, Lars dreamed...

ITSELF SURPRISED.

It was said that a berserker could if required a.s.sume even a pleasing shape. But there was no such requirement here. Flashing through the billion-starred silence, it was ma.s.sive and dark and purely functional in design. It was a planet-buster of a machine headed for the world called Corlano to pound its cities to rubble, to eradicate its entire biosphere. It possessed the ability to do this without exceptional difficulty, so that no subtlety, no guile, no reliance on fallible goodlife were required. It had its directive, it had its weapons.

It never wondered why this should be the way of its kind. It never questioned the directive. It never speculated whether it might be, in its own fashion, itself a lifeform, albeit artificial. It was a single-minded killing machine, and if purpose may be considered a virtue it was to this extent virtuous.

Almost unnecessarily, its receptors scanned far ahead. It knew that Corlano did not possess extraordinary defenses. It antic.i.p.ated no difficulties on this count.

Who hath drawn the circuits for the lion?

There was something very distant and considerably off course... A world-destroyer on a mission would not normally deviate for anything so tiny, however.

It rushed on toward Corlano, weapon systems ready.

Wade Kelman felt uneasy as soon as he laid eyes on the thing. He shifted his gaze to MacFarland and Dorphy.

"You let me sleep while you chased that junk down, matched orbits, grappled it? You realize how much time that wasted?"

"You needed the rest," the small, dark man named Dorphy replied, looking away.

"Bulls.h.i.t! You know I would have said 'No!' "

"It might be worth something, Wade," MacFarland observed.

"This is a smuggling run not a salvage operation. Time is important.

"Well, we've got it now," MacFarland replied. "No sense arguing over what's done."

Wade bit off a nasty rejoinder. He could only push things so far. He wasn't really captain, not in the usual sense. The three of them were in it together-equal investments, equal risk. Only, he knew how to pilot the small vessel better than either of them. That, and their deference to him up to this point, had revived command reflexes from both happier and sadder days gone by. Had they awakened him and voted on this bit of salvage he would obviously have lost. He knew that they would still look to him in an emergency.

He nodded sharply.

"All right, we've got it," he said. "What the h.e.l.l is it?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know, Wade," MacFarland replied, a stocky, light-haired man with pale eyes and a crooked mouth. He looked out through the lock and into the innards of the thing quick-sealed there beside them, then looked back at Wade. "When we first spotted it, I thought it was a lifeboat. It's about the right size..."

"And?"

"We sent a signal and there was no reply."

"You broke radio silence for that piece of junk?"

"If it was a lifeboat there could be people aboard, in trouble."

"Not too b.l.o.o.d.y likely, judging from its condition. Still..." He sighed. "You're right. Go ahead."

"No signs of any electrical activity either."

"You chased it down just for the h.e.l.l of it, then?"

Dorphy nodded.

"That's about right," he said.

"So, it's full of treasure?"

"I don't know what it's full of. It's not a lifeboat, though."

"I can see that."

Wade peered through the opened lock into the interior of the thing. He took the flashlight from Dorphy, moved forward and shone it about. There was no room for pa.s.sengers amid the strange machinery.

"Let's ditch it," he said. "I don't know what all that c.r.a.p is, and it's damaged anyway. I doubt it's worth its ma.s.s to haul anywhere."

"I'll bet the professor could figure it out," Dorphy said.

"Let the poor lady sleep. She's cargo, not crew, anyway. What's it to her what this thing is?"

"Suppose-just suppose-that's a valuable piece of equipment," Dorphy said. "Say, something experimental. Whether it's government or industry somebody might be willing to pay for it."

"And suppose it's a fancy bomb that never went off?"

Dorphy drew back from the hatch. "I never thought of that.".

"I say deep-six it."

"Without even taking a better look?"

"Right, I don't even think you could squeeze very far in there."

'''Me? You know a lot more about engineering than either of us."

"That's why you woke me up, hah?"

"Well, now that you're here..."

Wade sighed. Then he nodded slowly.

"That would be crazy and risky and totally unproductive." He stared through the lock at the exotic array of equipment. "Pa.s.s me that trouble-light. It's stronger than this thing."

He accepted the light, extended it through the lock.

"It's been holding pressure okay?"

"Yeah. We slapped a patch on the hole in its hull."

"Weil, what the h.e.l.l."

He pa.s.sed through the lock, dropped to his knees, leaned forward. He held the light before him, moved it from side to side. His uneasiness would not go away. There was something very foreign about all of those cubes and k.n.o.bs, their connections... and that one large housing... He reached out and tapped upon the hull. Foreign...

"I've got a feeling it's alien," he said.

He entered the small open area before him. Then he had to duck his head and proceed on his hands and knees. He began to touch things-fittings, switches, connectors, small units of unknown potential. Almost everything seemed designed to swivel, rotate, move along tracks. Finally, he lay flat and crawled forward.

"I believe that a number of these units are weapons," he called out, after some time.

He reached the big housing. A panel slid partway open as he pa.s.sed his fingertips along its surface. He pressed harder and it opened farther.

"d.a.m.n you!" he said then, as the unit began to tick softly.

"What's wrong?" Dorphy called to him.

"You!" he said, beginning to back away. "And your partner! You're wrong!"

He turned as soon as he could and made his way back through the lock.

"Ditch it!" he said. "Now!"

Then he saw that Juna, a tall study in gray and pallor, stood leaning against the bulkhead to the left, holding a cup of tea. "And if we've got a bomb toss it in there before you kick it loose!" he added.

"What did you find?" she asked him in her surprisingly rich voice.

"That's some kind of fancy thinking device in there," he told her. "It tried to kick on when I touched it.

And I'm sure a bunch of those gadgets are weapons. Do you know what that means?"

"Tell me," she said.

"Alien design, weapons, brain... My partners just salvaged a damaged berserker, that's what. And it's trying to turn itself back on. It's got to go-fast."

"Are you certain that's what it is?" she asked him.

"Certain, no. Scared, yes."

She nodded and set her cup aside. She raised her hand to her mouth and coughed.

"I'd like to take a took at it myself before you get rid of it," she said softly.

Wade gnawed his tower lip for a moment.

"Juna," he said then, "I can understand your professional interest in the computer, but we're supposed to deliver you intact, remember?"

She smiled, for the first time since he'd met her some weeks before.

"I really want to see it."

Her smile hardened then. He nodded.

"Make it a quick look."

"I'll need my tools. And I want to change into some working clothes."

She turned and pa.s.sed through the hatch to her right. He glared at his partners, shrugged and turned away.

Seated on the edge of his bunk while Dvorak's Slavonic Dances swirled about him, eating breakfast from a small tray. Wade reflected on berserkers, Dr. Juna Bayel, computers in general and how they all figured together in the purpose of this trip.

Berserker scouts had been spotted, periodically in this sector during the past few years. It was not difficult to conclude that by this time they were aware that Corlano was not all that well-defended. This made for some nervousness within that segment of Corlano's population made up of refugees, from a berserker attack upon distant Djelbar almost a generation ago. A great number had chosen Corlano at that time, as a world far removed from earlier patterns of berserker activity. He snorted then at a certain irony this had engendered. It was those same people who had lobbied so long and so successfully for the highly restrictive legislation Corlano now possessed regarding the manufacture and importation of knowledge-processing machines, a species of group paranoia going back to their berserker trauma.

There was a black market, of course. Machines more complicated than those allowed by law were needed by businesses, some individuals and even the government itself. People such as himself and his partners regularly brought in such machines and components. Officials usually looked the other way. He had seen this same sort of schizophrenia in a number of places.

He sipped his coffee.

And Juna Bayel... Knowledge systems specialists of her caliber were generally non grata there, too. She might have gone in as a tourist, but then she would have been subjected to some scrutiny, making it more difficult to teach the cla.s.ses she had been hired to set up.

He sighed. He was used to governmental doublethinking. He had been in the service. In fact... no. Not worth thinking about all that again. Things had actually been looking up lately. A few more runs like this one and he could make the final payments on his divorce settlement and actually go into legitimate shipping, get respectable, perhaps even prosper- The intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" he responded.

"Dr. Bayel wants permission to do some tests on that brain in the derelict," MacFarland said. "She wants to run some leads and hook it up to the ship's computer. What do you think?"

"Sounds kind of dangerous," Wade replied. "Supposing she activates it? Berserkers aren't very nice, in case you've never-''

"She says she can isolate the brain from the weapons systems," MacFarland replied. "Besides, she doesn't think it's a berserker."

"Why not?"

"First, it doesn't conform with any berserker design configurations in our computer's records-"

"h.e.l.l! That doesn't prove anything. You know they can customize themselves for different jobs."

"Second,, she's been on teams that examined wrecked berserkers. She says that this brain is different."

"Well, it's her line of work, and I'm sure she's d.a.m.ned curious, but- What do you think?"