Bloodhype Page 5

  “I think I’d have preferred to have gone bar-hopping, this time. One more question, First.”

  “Sir?”

  Hammurabi rubbed the side of his jaw where a flying splinter of molten plastic had struck him. He held out the open spice case.

  “What do you know about cooking, Maijib?”

  Circuits were enclosed in metal which was embedded in ceramic which was enclosed by the metal-that-was-not-cold which floated near something at the edge of emptiness.

  The Machine was old, but purpose was retained. For the first time in eons it had cause to shift electrons with reason. The computer, which was so far in advance of what then were called computers that it deserved another name (but we will call it computer), began making decisions as though today were yesterday’s yesterday. It was designed and equipped to handle only one Problem. To that end it was capable of making several billions of individual decisions in order to arrive at one solution.

  None of them covered the present difficulties.

  The Machine finally was able to resolve the multitude into Two Actions. First, it began to follow the Problem, which was moving away; and it began to search out a way to awaken the Guardian.

  It was all a question of stimuli.

  “Well, little Japurovac, what do you find?” Hammurabi asked the ship’s thranx physician.

  The diminutive female insectoid looked up at the Captain, her usually pretty face a red moon nightmare. The ferocious aspect was caused by the special goggles she wore. They included built-in analytical equipment and sensors, not to mention special magnifying lenses for compound eyes. Japur cocked her head to one side, curious.

  “Tell me, dear Captain. If you are so keen to have these substances analyzed, why do you not convey them to the customs offices in Repler City? The facilities there are far in advance of what I have to work with here.”

  “I hope the answers you give me show more insight than that question, Doctor. You’re too shrewd a gal to miss something so obvious.”

  “I did talk to Takaharu, in fact, but I wanted some confirmation from you. Keep your carapace on! I’ve done what you requested. Not at all surprised someone tried to kill you for these bottles.”

  “Several someones. At least one man has died because of them already. Have you really turned something up? Or are you just putting me off because you couldn’t find anything?”

  Japurovac drew herself up to her full meter and a third, truhands and hand-feet assuming a posture of mild outrage. Whether insult or flattery, Japur was more susceptible than most to either.

  “I shall choose to ignore that. Of course, if you don’t wish the efforts of my poor labor . . .”

  “Okay, I give up. Don’t get your ovipositors in an uproar. You know the entire ship would go to pieces without you.”

  She relaxed somewhat. “That’s better. And watch the dirty language. I am a lady, you know! Now, the analysis of the materials in question was simple enough. The process of gravity separation was purely mechanical. To be certain I reran the time-consuming procedure several times. I wanted to be sure all questionable particles had been separated out. The reason for this will be self-defining when you see the results. Even so, I doubt that you will honestly appreciate my efforts, but no matter.”

  Hammurabi looked ceilingward for solace. Why, Malcolm, do you inflict a petulant, spoiled female physician on yourself and your ship? Why?

  Because she’s too damn good to get rid of, that’s why.

  The doctor continued. “There are measurable quantities of the drugs tween, mithrah, pollus, felturney and felturney-B mixed in with the spices. Some of the latter are quite tasty, I might add.”

  “I’m sure. What else?”

  “There are also considerable amounts of two more potent narcotics, aelo and mak, each in its own spice jar. On the current market they ought to bring about 5000 credits.”

  “Those are both artificially produced drugs, aren’t they?

  “Just so. To produce either in quantities pure enough to be useful or deadly, depending on which end of the injector you’re on, considerable production facilities are required. Also a good deal of chemical know-how. Why? What difference does it make which Hell they originate from?”

  “It’s just that I rather liked our seal friends on Largess. Honest, friendly businessbeings, they seemed to me. They’re not noted for their skill as chemists. Of course, that doesn’t rule out any of a hundred other possibilities. They might have hired off-worlders to produce the stuff locally, or may just be serving as transfer agents. Go on.”

  “A jar full of very high grade heroin—for traditionalists, I suppose. And scattered throughout several jars, I am mottled and shattered to say, a probably priceless quantity of a foul substance that cannot be anything but bloodhype.”

  That set Hammurabi back a bit. They’d all heard rumors that the jaster traffic had been resumed. But to be confronted with the stuff in person! He thought again of his friends among the seal-beings. They’d be equally susceptible to the stuff. The fact that the drug operated on such a tremendous range of sentients greatly enhanced its value, since it could be marketed practically anyplace.

  And he’d been selected to play delivery boy! He thought of the fellow who would be expected to find the blue box on another ship and his frantic efforts to locate it when he found it had been shipped to the wrong freighter.

  “You separated all of it out, then, Doc?”

  Japurovac gave the thranx equivalent of a mild shrug. “As I said, and with extreme care. Lucky you didn’t taste one of those bottles. And I wish you would address me as ‘Ship-healer,’ as is my right, and not as a ‘Doc.’ ”

  “Sorry, D . . . Ship-healer. Didn’t you know when you signed on that humans are notorious for an addiction to nicknames and abbreviations?”

  “Please, Captain. No talk of ‘addictions’ now. My insides are queased enough from handling this stuff. It is dangerously potent if taken orally, and since my olfactory organs are located on my hand-feet, extreme delicacy in handling was required to insure safety. Injection works a lot faster, but is no more deadly.”

  She turned and grasped a labeled, covered vial with a truhand, switched it to the less delicate but stronger grip of a hand-foot. It contained a small quantity of a plain white powder. A thousand kilos of poisonous projector polish was less dangerous.

  “That is all of it?”

  “Well, perhaps I have been too positive. However, after separating out all I could, I placed the metal box and the twelve crystal jars in the sterilizer. The resultant slag was reduced to powder, remelted, and ejected out of the gravitational field of the planet via courier drone. After which I let the sterilizer bake itself for several hours, then sprayed the entire dispensary with a disinfectant designed to break down any unsealed organics. Cost me a good leather neck-strap I forgot to seal, too.”

  Hammurabi took the vial gingerly. “I’ll buy you a new one, Japur. With perfume striping.”

  The vial, Mal noticed, was quartzine, thick and solid. He held it up to the brilliant surgical lighting and the creamy crystals within sparkled. If a gram of the stuff was powdered and released into the ship’s ventilating system, everyone on board would be dead in a week. The unbreakable permalloy silicon dioxide vial was pressure sealed. It would take an hour’s soaking in strong acid to dissolve the bonding resins.

  “You seem to be up on the value of these goodies, Japur. What do you guess the value of this little jar at?”

  “It’s the business of a healer to know the cost of his tools and related materials,” she said. She was intent on the interior of a half-filled beaker. “An aelo-vyacine combination, for example, can slow a thranx heartbeat to near nothing without ill effects, and without the use of a Dancer, or any other drugs. It makes open surgery practical to us, with our open circulatory systems. Otherwise many would bleed to death rapidly. I mention this by way of indicating relativity.”

  She looked back at him. “To me, that vial is worth nothi
ng. To you, nothing. To an addict—anything short of his life. Any sentient in the galaxy ‘took’ on bloodhype would gladly trade you all his worldly possessions, his offspring, his mate, parents, and all his limbs save the minimum needed to inject the drug, in return for the hollow splinter of glass you hold in your hand. ‘Ex pui restact al phempt,’ ” she added in pure High thranx.

  “Pardon?” Hammurabi asked. His schooling had neglected the formal dialects in favor of practical semantics.

  “I couldst in my shell-of-shells vomit,” the dainty healer replied. She turned back to her examination of the beaker, added something from another.

  The ship-master considered the vial a moment longer, then laid it gently on the workbench. “I think maybe you ought to take charge of this, Japur. Myself, I’m going to try and arrange a chat with a certain old man.”

  The AAnn soldier approached the small group. It sheathed its claws and bowed slightly in salute, turning slightly to expose the jugular as a sign of respect.

  “Most Exalted Commander, the place for the monster is completed.”

  “Thank you, Engineer,” the tallest of the three intoned.

  Parquit RAM, Supreme Commander of His Imperial Majesty’s Grand Territory and Colony Station on Repler, turned from his two companions and made a gesture of politeness in the direction the engineer had come from.

  “My compliments, Engineer Sixth . . . Waya SCXNMSS, I believe . . .”

  “My ancestors are honored at your remembrance, Excellency!”

  “Convey to Engineer First Vynaar my personal congratulations on a complex task efficiently done. The same to your associates. Even though,” the Commander spared a glance for his thumb chronometer, “they pared things very close to our deadlines. Your speed will be mentioned in my official log of this project. I should hope to obtain more suitable compensation for the entire engineering staff from Imperial Sector Headquarters.”

  “A thousand thousand days of sun on all your progeny, Excellence!” said the engineer, bowing and turning every few steps.

  Parquit gestured irritably at the younger nye. “And stop bowing so much! You’ll acquire a crick in your neck.”

  The junior engineer turned hurriedly and scooted out of sight.

  “Now then, gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. Carmot MMYM, be known to Arris CDC, senior Xenobiologist First. Arris has been elevated to the position of nominal head of our scientific station here, for the duration of the project. We didn’t bother with such plebeian formalities before—on a world like this, the nye will barely tolerate normal routine—but ever since Sectorcav have gotten their official tails in a frenzy on this thing . . .”

  “Our First Psychostamin, Beirje, would have been a more appropriate choice,” said Arris jovially. “All that fresh meat strolling around in the person of solitary hunters and tourists that the nye aren’t allowed to touch—that inhibiting of their natural instincts, plus the amount of sickening free water present on this planet—”

  “Please,” interrupted Carmot. “I know. One look from the shuttle coming in was sufficient. I am not a strong nye. I confess to having become ill. I extend sympathy to my colleague.”

  “A more apropos greeting you couldn’t give,” replied the xenobiologist. The two scientists performed the AAnn ritual greeting, clasping each other’s throat with claws retracted.

  “I know your reputation, CDC. I am honored to meet so venerable a superior.”

  “What compliments you to me even more than your judicious and professional flattery, Observer First, is the relief from boredom that your discovery has brought to this Sector. I have never seen requests for supplies and scientific personnel filled so rapidly! While I dislike being exiled to this hell, I confess I’m enjoying the unusual cooperation from those pause-thinkers at headquarters.”

  “Again, sympathy. How do you stand the dampness?”

  “The machinery does its best. But you should see some of the nye who are forced to run outside patrol.” Arris shuddered.

  “It’s a choice slice of purgatory, Observor,” Arris added. “Yet I believe, too, that your discovery may prove justification for the Corps false pride in maintaining this station.”

  “Your pardon, gentlenye,” Commander Parquit interrupted. “Since Engineering has completed the last of the facilities, should we not hasten to observe the transfer of the thing? It is due shortly.”

  “Surely, surely!” said the xenobiologist. He led the way down the hall.

  “I might hope even that the efforts expended in this project might yield, yea, a small advantage to the Empire for the next conflict with the humanx underbeings.”

  “You anticipate war, then, Commander?” asked Carmot.

  “One can anticipate without predicting. When the predictors feel it worthwhile, we will engage again. Meanwhile we must curb ourselves. Each must make his sacrifice. When I am required in the City, for example, I find myself considering the well-fleshed human governor from a culinary rather than diplomatic stance. Restraint is the marker of confidence.”

  “Well said,” huffed Arris as they turned yet another corner.

  For a time now the Vom had perceived atmosphere around itself. At least its senses had improved to that point, however little. Otherwise it was aware only of being suspended in a strong metallic container between two pulsing energy sources. These it correctly interpreted as sources of motive power for its “cage.” The gravity field of the planet beneath had been felt long ago. The Vom was still terribly, terribly weak. Its awareness of that weakness made it cautious.

  For example, even though it had now regained enough strength to break free, it did not long consider the idea. It knew that it could spread its organic envelope thin enough to float gently to the surface below, or compact itself and drop to safety deep in rock.

  Wait and observe, counseled one neural nexus. Pause and see, concurred a thousand others.

  Commander Parquit and the two scientists entered the hastily constructed central control area. All observation and experiments to be performed on the creature would be supervised from this room. The center was buried even deeper than most of the AAnn station. A good nine or so fathoms beneath the low-tide point, it rested in water a deep blue. Tridee after tridee gave views of the interior of the special holding room, the halcyon surface, and a respectable portion of gray sky. Just now the center was a hive of frenzied activity. Technicians and mechanics predominated, making last-minute inspections, wirings, installation, and equipment checks. Engineers and an occasional scientist argued quietly over the performance or placement of various bits of exposed instrumentation.

  The xenobiologist gestured towards one of the larger screens. It displayed a view of what seemed to be a large rectangular hole in the sea, surrounded by pecces, the Replerian coral-equivalent. Most of the small reef was the metal and plastic product of AAnn camouflage experts.

  “The cage is located at the bottom of that shaft,” Arris informed Carmot. “It rests at the same level as this control center and is actually only verrs away, beyond this very wall. The paneling is undergoing final wiring, so I can’t pull them off the glass yet. When that is done we shall be able to observe directly everything the creature does. Or that we do to the creature. There will be no temperature or pressure difficulties, I am assured. The sides of that ‘hole’ are quite strong. They are also easily removed, as is the ‘reef.’ The walls of the shaft will be towed away as soon as the creature is safely ensconced in its new home. If the thing accepts water as a barrier, it will be barred from the surface by a good forty teverrs of ocean. And the restraining walls, of course.

  “The most difficult problem was one that you and the spatial corps solved for us. Whether or not we would be forced to maintain an artificial atmosphere similar to the one of the planet from which the creature was removed. Fortunately, the thing appears extremely adaptable.”

  “Insofar as our very cursory testings indicated,” Carmot reminded.

  “True. A fortunate bi
t of luck for us, since our experimenters and handlers will be able to operate without the bother of special equipment and protective suits. Its sole requirement seems to be a certain minimal amount of oxygen. From tests it appears that the creature can break down any of a great number of substances and remove the required element. If nothing else, it proves itself a remarkably efficient combustion engine.”

  “Perhaps a noteworthy fact already,” said Parquit. “Ah, here they come now.” He indicated a smaller console screen, and the two scientists moved closer for a better look.

  Three rapidly moving blips, set close together, showed on the screen. As they descended further, they gradually resolved into two Aphon shuttles sandwiched around a massive, featureless ellipsoid.

  “Compliments to the Emperor’s pilots, Commander,” said Carmot honestly. “Some remarkable maneuvering, there.”

  “Proper balancing of forces for such a task, on descent . . . yes, very well managed,” said Parquit, adding, “I’m certain Sectorcav supplied the best nye available.”

  “I can guess the need for such a complex arrangement,” said Carmot.

  Parquit spoke without taking his eyes from the screen.

  “Yes. There are no shuttles this side of the Homeworld capable of handling that much bulk. Not only would it take too long to transfer one, but the humanx would be certain to inquire into the need for shuttles of that size. Aphon-class occasionally operate out of the capitol. We manage things too openly for my taste as it is.”

  The two shuttles slowed and maneuvered from side to side; a little lower and they were positioned directly over the shaft. A lift pressor at the bottom of the shaft gently locked in and the two shuttles released their hold. A tricky operation. The idea was that the two shuttles would release their hold at the same moment the main pressor took over. Unless timing and power were precisely matched, a catastrophic misalignment of forces could occur.

  The two shuttles pulled away, one to the left, one right, and boosted heavenward to rejoin the mother ship somewhere in orbit. If the timing had been exact all around, none of the operation should have been observable from Repler City’s beacons hundreds of kilometers to the north.