Partnership. Part 6

Fa.s.sa started to shake her head and then obviously thought better of it. She waved Alpha's hand away with a languid gesture. "Never touch drugs."

"More fool you," said Alpha. "I know more about side effects than any of you, and I promise you a few blues won't do any harm. Just wish I'd thought of it before we entered Singularity. Blaize?"

"Excellent idea," Blaize said hollowly, accepting the offered pills. Unlike Darnell, he made his way to the far side of the cabin and found a half-empty bottle of Stemerald to help him choke down the pills. "Almost as good an idea as walking. Don't think I ever really ap- preciated Earth before." His skin was pale green under the spattering of freckles.

Polyon chuckled. "May have been a blessing in dis- guise that you weren't allowed to go in for brawn training, little one. Apparently you haven't die stomach for it. Now when you imagine combining frequent Decom hops with Mil Spec meals of boiled synthoprot and anonymous vitacaps that all smell like cabbage-"

Fa.s.sa clapped a hand over her mouth and ran for the door. Darnell swallowed convulsively two or three times. "Would you mind very much not mentioning food just now?" His last words were slurred and relaxed; the Blissto was already taking effect.

"At least not till I've had my own blues," Alpha added, pouring a handful of the shiny blue pills down her throat.

74.

fcf Fa.s.sa didn't quite make it to the privacy of her cabin.

Silendy, Nancia extruded probes that captured and vaporized the resulting mess. She activated the release latch on Fa.s.sa's cabin door so that it irised open in front of the girl.

"T-thank you," Fa.s.sa hiccuped into the wet doth Nantia's second probe held out. "I mean - I know you're just a droneship, so this is silly, but-oh, thank you anyway." She collapsed on her bunk, a huddle of misery. Nancia closed down the cabin sensors, trans- mitted a shut command to the door iris, and left Fa.s.sa to recover on her own. At least, she thought, the girl had the strength of character to abstain from mind- rotting drugs. And the manners to thank whoever helped her, even a supposedly inanimate droneship.

Her stated intention of using s.e.x to get concessions for her company was appalling, as were her manners in general; but maybe she was a shade less repellent than the rest of Nantia's young pa.s.sengers.

They had completely ignored Fa.s.sa's distress, Nan- cia noted. Polyon was playing a solitaire round of s.p.a.cED OUT and the other three were giggling over a new bottle of Stemerald. Nancia wondered uneasily what the mix of stimulants and depressants was likely to do to a softperson's nervous system - and what else Alpha might have smuggled aboard. Maybe it had been a mistake to turn off the cabin sensors; these people didn't deserve privacy.

But then, what business was it of hers if they wanted to drug themselves into a stupor? They'd be much nicer that way, after all. Nancia herself could conceive of nothing more horrible than voluntarily scrambling one's synapses, but softpersons did, by all reports, have very strange tastes.

Besides, they were much easier to put up with now that they were too doped to do anything but giggle softly and spill their Stemerald. Nanria's housekeep-75.

ing probes mopped up the green puddles on the cabin floor; her pa.s.sengers ignored the probes and their cleanup activity, and she, as far as possible, ignored the pa.s.sengers.

Because now, at last, there was somebody else to talk to- Within seconds of her emergence from Singularity, Nancia had initiated a tightbeam contact with Vega Base. By the time Fa.s.sa was cleaned up in her cabin and the odier pa.s.sengers busy with their own peculiar amus.e.m.e.nts, she had gone through the recognition sequences and the official messages and was happily chatting with Simeon, the managing brain of Vega Base.

"So how did you like your first voyage?" Simeon inquired.

"Singularity was..." Nancia couldn't find words for it; instead she transmitted a short visual burst of colors melting and expanding like soap bubbles, iridescent trails of light joyously spiraling around one another. "I can't wait to jump again."

Simeon chuckled. "You're one of the lucky ones, then. From all I hear, it doesn't take everyone that way."

"My pa.s.sengers didn't seem to enjoy it much," Nan- cia conceded, "but who cares?"

"Even brainships don't always get such a kick out of Singularity,11 Simeon told her.

Nancia found that hard to believe, but she remem- bered that Simeon was a stationary brain. Embedded in die heart of Vega Base, his only experience of travel would have been the jump that brought him here from Laboratory Schools - as a pa.s.senger, like any softperson. Perhaps she shouldn't go on about the joys of Singularity to someone who could never experience the thrill of managing his own jumps.

Besides, Simeon wanted to pursue something else.

76.

fcf "You don't seem to care much for your pa.s.sengers'

comfort"

Again words foiled Nancia. She damped the colors of her visual burst to a muddy swirl of greenish browns and grays. "They're not... very nice people," she finally answered. "Some of the things I overheard them discussing on the trip... Simeon, could I ask you a hypothetical question? Suppose a brainship hap- pened to learn that some people had unethical plans.

Should she report them?"

"You mean, like a plot to murder somebody? Or high treason-an attempt to overthrow Central?"

"Oh, goodness, no, nothing like thatl" How could Simeon sound so calm while discussing such dreadful things? "At least, I don't think - I mean, suppose they weren't planning to hurt anybody, but what they meant to do was morally wrong? Even illegal?" Alpha's plans to profit from a drug that should have been credited to Central Meds, Polyon's idea of creating a black market in metachips - no, Nancia a.s.sured her- self, her pa.s.sengers were nasty and corrupt as all get-out, but at least they weren't violent "Hmm. And how might this brainship have found out about her pa.s.sengers' plans?"

"I - they thought she was a droneship," Nancia said, "and they discussed everything quite freely. She has datacordings of it all, too."

"I see." Simeon sounded quite disapproving, and for a moment Nancia thought he shared her shock at her pa.s.sengers' plans. "And has it occurred to you, young XN-935, that masquerading as a droneship in order to eavesdrop on High Families' conversations is a form of entrapment? In fact, given that the pa.s.sengers in- volved an High Families and very close to CenCom, the act of taking surrept.i.tious datacordings could even be interpreted as treason. What if they'd been discuss- ing vital military secrets?''77.

"But they weren't - I didn't - Listen, VS-895, they're the criminals, not me!" Nancia shouted.

"Ouch."

Simeon's reply was almost an electronic whisper.

"Turn down your waveforms, would you? That nearly jolted me out of my sh.e.l.l."

"Sorry." Nancia controlled her impulses and chan- neled a clean, tight beam at Simeon. "But I don't see what you're accusing me of."

"Me? Nothing, XN, I a.s.sure you. I'm just trying to warn you that the courts may see things rather dif- ferently. Now, I don't know what your young pa.s.sengers have been up to, and 1 don't particularly care to know. You haven't seen much of the world yet, or you'd realize that most softpersons have some way or other to get a little extra out of every situation in which they find themselves,"

Nancia mulled that over. "You mean - are they all corrupt, then?"

Simeon chuckled. "Not all, Nancia, just enough to make it interesting. You have to understand the poor things. Short lifespan, limited to five senses, single- channel comm system. I expect they feel cheated when they compare themselves with us. And some of them translate that feeling into trying to get extra goodies for themselves."

Nancia had to agree that what Simeon said made a lot of sense. She tried to emulate his att.i.tude of lofty detachment while she went about the business of land- ing her pa.s.sengers at their a.s.signed stations in the Nyota ya Jaha system. Since four of them still thought her a droneship and the fifth knew she wasn't speak- ing to him, it was easy enough to remain aloof.

Nancia made each planetary landfall an exercise in split-second timing and perfect orbit-matching. It was good practice, it kept her concentrating on her own business and not on that of her pa.s.sengers, and if the 78.

& Margaret Baft rapid maneuvers involved gave them a b.u.mpy ride - well, so much the worse. She took pride in making the actual moments of touchdown as gentle as the landing of a feather. At least, Bahati and Shemali went that way.

When she reached Angalia, she couldn't quite restrain her impulse to give filaize a good shaking on the way down. He was pale and sweating by the time they came to a b.u.mpy halt on the mesa that served as Angalia's s.p.a.cefield.

"That," he said as he collected his baggage, "was not necessary."

Nancia preserved an icy silence - literally. Each moment that Blaize delayed, she lowered her internal temperature by several degrees.

"You could at least send a housekeeping probe to help me with all this stuff," he complained, gripping a box of novelhedra with fingers that were rapidly turn- ing blue with cold.

"^fou're not my mother, you know," he said while lean- ing on the b.u.t.ton to the lift. "n.o.body asked you to pa.s.s judgment on my moral standards. Just like n.o.body asked me if I wanted to come out to this G.o.dforsaken place."

"I guess it would be too much to expect anybody to have a little sympathy," he said as the lift sped downward.

Nancia tilted the hatchway floor so that Blaize's carefully stacked boxes of supplies tumbled out as soon as he stepped onto the surface of Angalia.

"I know what you're thinking," he shouted from the red dust of the mesa top, "but you're wrong about me!

You're all wrong! I'll show you!"

Nancia was pleased that her a.s.signment made no mention of collecting the previous PTA administrator, the one whom Blaize had been sent to relieve. Ap- parently, not being a member of the High Families, he was expected to wait for the regularly scheduled PTA transport rather than taking advantage of a brainship for the Courier Service. Hard on him, Nancia79.

thought, but quite appropriate. She would proceed directly to Vega 3.3, collect this stranded brawn, and return to Central for a real a.s.signment-with a brawn of her own choosing. Thank goodness she was through being used as a subst.i.tute droneship for the convenience of the rich and powerful!

She discovered her error when she was halfway from Nyota ya Jaha to Vega 3.

"What do you mean, another little errand?" she blasted poor Simeon.

"Turn it down," came Simeon's low-intensity reminder. "It wasn't my idea and you don't have to shout like that Anyway, what difference does it make?

you were going to Vega 3 anyway."

"I was going to 3.3, not 4.2," Nancia pointed out, and this reminded her of another grievance. "Why can't these people give their suns and planets real names, anyway? This Vega numbering system makes me feel like a machine."

"They're great believers in efficiency," Simeon said.

"And logic. You'll see what I mean when you pair up with Caleb."

"Hmph. You mean, when I transport the man-for that's all I've agreed to. Efficiency!" Nancia grumbled.

"That's a new word for misuse of the Courier Service.

Why, it's a whole different solar system and an extra stop to pick up this governor Thrixtopple and his family, not to mention having to feed them all the way back to Central. Time and fuel and ship's stores wasted. My fuel belongs to the Courier Service," she said, "and so does my time."

"What about your soul?" inquired Simeon, return- ing to a normal-intensity beam. "Oh, never mind. I keep forgetting how new you are, XN. Wait till you've been around the subs.p.a.ces a few hundred years.

You'll start understanding how the rules have to be bent to accommodate people."

80.

6f "You mean, to accommodate softpersons," Nancia corrected proudly. "I've never asked for an exception or a favor in my life, and I'm not about to start now."

Simeon's responding burst of discordant waves and clashing colors was the electronic equivalent of an ex- tremely rude word. "I can see why Psych thought you and Caleb would be a good match," he said. Infuriat- ingly, he shut down transmissions on that comment, leaving Nancia to wonder all the way to Vega 3.3. Why did Psych see fit to match her with a brawn whose major accomplishment so far had been the loss of his first brainship? Was there something wrong in her profile, some instability that made it appropriate to a.s.sign her an incompetent brawn? This Caleb soft- person was probably going to be stuck doing interplanetary hops and minor errands-like picking up Governor Thrixtopple-for the rest of his Service.

And Central Psych wanted to stick her with him and his flawed record! It wasn't/air. Nancia brooded about it all the way to Vega 3.3.

Her first sight of Caleb did nothing to restore her confidence in this a.s.signment. Courier Service records said that he was only twenty-eight - young for a softperson - but he walked slowly and carefully, as if he were already old and tired. His Service uniform looked as if it had been designed for a larger man; the tunic hung loosely from broad but bony shoulders, the trousers flapped about his shins. Short, scraumy and sour-faced, Nancia mentally catalogued as he made his halting way up the stairs. And why couldn't he use the toft, if he's too out of shape to walk up one/light of stairs?

His greeting to her was correct but lifeless. Nancia responded in the same tone. Listlessly, they went through the Service formulas until Nancia displayed the orders beamed from Vega Base.

Caleb exploded. "Detouring to pick up that lard- bottomed junketer and his family? That's not a Courier81.

Service job. Why can't Thrixtopple wait for the next scheduled pa.s.senger transport Uke anyone else?"

Nancia sent a ripple of muddy brown rings across the screen where their orders were displayed.

"n.o.body told me anything," she responded verbally for Caleb's benefit. "Stop here, go there, take these kids to the Nyota system, collect a stranded brawn on Vega 3.3, pick up the governor of 4.2 and take him back to Central. / don't know why he rates a special deal; he's not even High Families."

"No, but he's been working this subs.p.a.ce for a long time," Caleb told her. "Probably has more pull than half a dozen empty-headed aristos with their double- barreled names."

"We are not all," Nancia said, "empty-headed. Per- haps you failed to read your orders in detail?" She flashed her full name on the screen to get his attention.

"Oh, well, you can't help your birth," Caleb said ab- sent-mindedly, "and I suppose a good Lab Schools training will make up for a lot. Are you ready for lift- off? We can't waste time gossiping if we have to fit this extra stop into the itinerary."

I give him ten minutes after we reach Central to get himself and his bags off me and make room for a brawn with some manners, Nancia vowed to herself as she drove her en- gines through a harder and faster takeoff than she would normally have imposed on a softperson pas- senger. No, that's too generous. Five minutes.

She felt slighdy regretful when she peeked through Caleb's cabin sensors and saw him struggling to sit up after the takeoff, white and shaken. But she wasn't sorry enough to change her basic position on brawn a.s.signments.

"There's one thing we should have settled before liftoff," she announced without preamble.

"Yes?" Caleb didn't bother turning his head to look at the cabin speaker. Of course, he was an experienced 82.- if incompetent - brawn; he would know that she would be able to pick up his words from any direction.

Still, Nancia felt vaguely ruffled - as if she were being ignored even as he replied to her.

"Transporting you back to Central Worlds is my offi- cial a.s.signment, and I cannot refuse it. But I do not wish you to construe this as formal acceptance of you as my brawn. I have no intention of waiving my rights to free choice of my own brawn just because this match is convenient for Central."

Now what ailed the man? He had just begun to regain some color after the high-G lift-off; now his face was drained again, still as a mask - or a corpse. Nan- cia began to wonder if this brawn would live to see Central. If he wasn't fit enough to make the journey, some- body should have warned me.

"Of course," said Caleb in a voice so level and drained of meaning that it could have issued from any housekeeping drone, "no one would expect you to waive that right. Particularly for me." He turned his head and for the first time looked direcdy at the sensor.

"Shut down sensors to this cabin, please, XN. I wish to rest In privacy," he emphasized. He lay down again with one arm flung over his face. After a moment he rolled over and lay facedown on the bunk, as if he didn't trust Nancia not to peek at him.

"Simeon? Sh.e.l.lcrack, Simeon, I know you're pick- ing up my beams. TALK TO ME!"

"You're an excessively demanding young thing, XN-935, and you're shouting again."

"Sorry." Nancia was so glad to have got some response from the Vega Base brain that she immedi- ately lowered the intensity of her beam to match Simeon's almost inaudible burst. "Simeon, I need to know about this brawn they've saddled me with."

"So scan the newsbeam files."83.

"I did. There's nothing in them. Not what I need to know, anyway." The files had been enlightening in their own way, with their lurid stories of a ship and a man almost destroyed by a sudden radiation burst, the brawn's limping, months-long journey homeward in his crippled, brainless ship and the hero's welcome he had received when he arrived at Vega 3.3 with the sur- vey data he'd been sent to gather. The tale of what Caleb had gone through, the months of solitude anddeprivation and the lingering effects of radiation poisoning, had done much to reshape Nancia's feel- ings towards the pallid brawn who'd boarded her on Vega 3.3. She felt a grudging respect for the man she saw spending hours in her exercise facility, working out with gyroweights and spring resistors to restore wasted niusdes.

The man who had accepted her initial hostile at- t.i.tude as no more than his due, who'd shut her out of his mind at once and had not spoken a word to her since. They had traveled in silence through the three days it took to move between the suns of Vega 3 and Vega 4, while Nancia waited impatiently for Simeon to resume communications so that she could ask what she wanted to know. Finally she'd begun battering at the Vega Base brain's frequencies with ever-increasing bursts of communication that must have given him the equivalent of a softperson's "headache."

Nancia condensed the newsbytes she'd read and transmitted them in three short bursts to Simeon, just to convince him she'd done her homework.

"So what else do you want to know?"

"How. Did. He. Lose. His. Ship?" Nancia punctuated each word with a burst of irritated static "You read the newsbytes."

"WE'RE SHIELDED AGAINST - sorry." She started over at normal intensity. "We're shielded against radiation. He shouldn't have been harmed, 84.

&f unless he was being careless - leaving the ship without checking radiation levels? And there's no way his ship could have been affected. What could have got through her column?"

"His column, in this case," Simeon corrected, as if that mattered.