Still, wormhole insertion was hours off. He tried to put it out of his mind.
Approaching it, they finally cut the drives, leaving the interior gee field activated. Now they were drifting up on the Agreeable Path. It was an elongated silver shape with projecting dark vanes, scorched and scarred by its recent battle. It came into view as George entered the command sphere to begin his watch.
"Good morning, Captain," Lydia called to him as he rode the elevator platform to the control nest. She vacated the captain's chair and sat down in the copilot's seat.
"Morning, Commander." George took his post, settling into the still-warm chair. "Any word from Lychel?"
"None yet."
"Ship, try to establish contact with the merchant vessel Agreeable Path."
"Understood." There was a short pause, followed by a crackle of static. Then came Lychel's voice: "Hello, George. It's good to speak with you."
"Hey, Lychel, same here. We're in your vicinity. What's your situation?"
"About what one might expect. My power core has failed. The backup cells are nearly depleted."
"Sorry to hear it. That looks like a sweet ship."
"It will soon be nothing but inert matter."
George winced. "You're prepared to abandon it?"
"Yes. I've been in touch with my Guild. They'll send a salvage ship. It won't be a complete loss."
"How do you want to do this?"
"It appears our velocities are closely matched. I compliment you on your piloting."
George grinned. "That's a human for you. We're the ace pilots of the galaxy." There was a snort of amusement from Lydia, which he ignored. "Are you ready for docking?"
"Alas, my docking port took damage in the late battle. It would be simplest for me to don a pressure suit, exit my ship, and cast myself toward you. If you could arrange to open an airlock?"
George chuckled. "I think we can accommodate you."
"Thanks for your help."
13
George rode the elevator down to the main personnel hatch. It slowed to a stop with a hiss of hydraulics. He strode down the passage to the airlock.
"Ship, intercom on. To command sphere: Commander Merritt, could you patch me through to Lychel, please?"
"Certainly, Captain."
A moment later he heard Lychel's voice: "Ah, George, greetings. Lydia and I have been chatting. She's been commiserating with me."
George gave a sigh. "You haven't had an easy time of it."
"Nor you. We're companions in misfortune."
He took his spacesuit from its locker and put it on. He stepped into the airlock. "Ship, close airlock and initiate exit cycle."
"Command executed."
The outer airlock door opened. George stepped out, exiting the grav field as he did so. He swiveled carefully around to place the magnetic soles of his boots on the hull.
He stood up. He was surrounded by the dark majesty of space, all filled with sparkling stars. The Agreeable Path drifted just ahead, a dark bulk occluding the heavens.
"All set, Lychel? Come across any time you're ready." He activated the headlamps on his helmet. "Can you see me?"
"I do see you." There was a flaring orange spark on the shadowed underside of the other ship. Suddenly something like a giant firefly shot toward George's position.
The pressure-suited Dalhou did look like some kind of giant insect. The bright glow of the suit's jet was right where its tail would be.
The glittering figure loomed above him. It writhed around, using the jet to slow itself. It hovered for a moment then lit cleanly on the hull of the Lucky Star.
George advanced toward it. "Welcome aboard, my friend."
"Thank you. It's good to be here."
They fastened a line between the two vessels and made several trips back and forth for Lychel's personal effects, but the Dalhou didn't really seem to have many belongings he was particularly attached to. They were quickly done with a task that, had their positions been reversed, might have taken days.
With the power out, the interior of the Agreeable Path was too dark for George to see much. It appeared to consist of myriad polished glassy surfaces, facets in a sort of honeycomb matrix, its chambers a series of interlocking gem-shaped cavities. George found it strangely beautiful.
In contrast, the interior of the Lucky Star looked starkly utilitarian to George's eyes when they returned. But Lychel seemed to find it charming. George got his friend settled into new quarters, and they talked for a bit.
Lychel proved quite adaptable, taking a shower in the human-style refresher, and then stretching out on the bed when he was done. Pleading exhaustion, with profuse apologies, he dropped off to sleep.
14
Nungaan hurried down the dark corridor to the audience chamber.
He'd been busy on the brightly lit operations deck when he'd been called from his post. Other servants in the vicinity had carefully failed to notice. He wondered what the urgent summons could mean.
Arriving, he stopped for a moment to steel himself for the ordeal. Then, with some reluctance, he entered.
The door slid shut behind him. Facing the thick glass. he assumed the posture of respect. He willed his body and mind to remain still.
For a long uneasy period the compartment remained silent. Finally the master's voice rumbled through the chill air, and Nungaan waited patiently for the translation.
"It's come to our attention... that the destination of the humans... is wormhole portal 72... the Relqui system..."
Nungaan waited in case Z'Garab wasn't finished; it would never do to interrupt. When he was sure it was safe to speak, he answered cautiously. "That would appear to be so."
The master made no reply.
The silence grew oppressive. "We on the operations deck weren't told it was important," he ventured at last.
He knew immediately that he'd made a mistake. Why had he been so hasty? Surely he knew better after all these seasons of service! If there was one thing the Zhianese could not abide, it was being rushed. Nungaan began to tremble.
The smell of ozone grew sharp in the air. Nungaan wasn't supposed to know it, but the chamber was equipped to strike down troublesome servants with bolts of electricity. It seemed he was to pay the ultimate price for his error.
For an agonizing time, he waited to die. The master finally spoke: "Have a care... how you address us..."
"My abject apologies, exalted one."
"You've been useful... see that you remain so..."
"Of course, master." Relief swelled through Nungaan's being. It was an act of great clemency for Z'Garab to spare him. He would do whatever it took to please the master, bend his entire will toward whatever task he was set.
"The Relqui system... is on the route... to the very place we are performing operations the servant Lydia learned of... but she cannot possibly know the precise location... nor details of the process..."
Nungaan waited, and then spoke. "Certainly not, master. Or Relqui would be the last place the humans would go."
"Yes, that must be so... and yet... we always found that servant so unpredictable... so resourceful... nor could we anticipate that she'd find another human with an armed ship..."
Another wait. "Relqui is but a crossroads, exalted one. The humans are not necessarily going to the place you speak of. Their destination must lie elsewhere."
"That was my thought... but the risk... very slight, but still a chance that the humans could delay our plan..."
"Shall we send ships in pursuit of them?"
"Not necessary... we can exert limited influence within the G-Net to destroy the human ship... should that fail, the Relqui system is guarded by the Red Suns Aggregation, served by Tyreel Clan Mombaar... have you had dealings with them?"
It began to dawn on Nungaan that Z'Garab was speaking quite rapidly for a Zhianese. Why, the master was agitated! This realization shook Nungaan to his core.
He knew that the Red Suns aggregation, a rival faction to Z'Garab's own
Shining Horizons assembly—in fact to all the other assemblies—was relatively powerless. If the Mombaar were indeed their servants, which he had never before been told, it would explain much. "No, master, nor wished to. They're a hysterical and touchy lot." Nungaan felt he was on safe ground, to criticize Tyreel belonging to rival Zhianese. The Shining Horizons bitterly despised the Red Suns.
"No matter... return at once to the operations deck... You'll find new information downloaded to your work post... new authorizations... You're empowered to act on our behalf when dealing with the Mombaar... We've obtained concessions from the Red Suns... the Mombaar are to dispatch fighting craft into the Reeshi system and intercept the humans for us... you are responsible for the operation... dispatch your own ships as you deem fit..."
"Of course, master!"
"Permission is granted for the Mombaar to move freely in Reeshi space... it would be best if the humans never enter Relqui space... you may leave us... do not fail..."
Nungaan obeyed with alacrity. For once, it seemed, a master would not be offended by haste.
He hurried toward the operations deck, the thought foremost in his mind that the humans were about to discover what it meant to displease the masters.
One might almost begin to feel sorry for them.
15
George sat alone in the command sphere, with the Relqui stargate filling the sky. The ship would transit it soon.
The hatch beneath him ground open and Lychel's voice rose to his ears, in conversation with Lydia. The platform ascended to the control nest with the pair of them.
George smiled. They had really hit it off. "Hey, people," he called. "Welcome!"
"Good morning, Captain," said Lydia.
"Greetings, George," said Lychel.
The elevator reached George's level and came to a halt. Lydia took the copilot's station. Lychel eyed the remaining seats, and then folded himself into the navigator's chair. The platform sank down into the ship.
"How did you know that was your seat, Lychel?" asked George.
"I'll gladly relinquish it when someone qualified to hold it arrives," Lychel said.
"I'd say you're extremely qualified. That's Nav & Comm—navigation and communications," George said. He'd been waiting to make this pitch. "I've got star charts, but you've been to a lot of the places on those charts. I can get translation protocols for most locations, but you've dealt with a lot of the folks we're likely to run across. So the post is yours if you want it. You're welcome on my ship regardless."
"I find your offer appealing. I accept."
"Did you ever take on crew for the Agreeable Path?"
"Occasionally."
"Maybe we can adapt whatever arrangements you made to our own circumstances. I've already talked about profit sharing with Hero and Lydia."
"We can reach agreement."
"Where is Hero?" asked Lydia.
"Aft somewhere. He already seems to know as much about my ship as I do." George gave a heavy sigh. "What a week!"
"Sorry I got you into this mess."
"It's okay. If I had it do over I would."
Beneath them, the hatch rumbled open. Hero rode the elevator upward. They greeted him as he took the flight engineer's station.
They were interrupted by a sudden graying out of the display sphere. A series of musical tones sounded. They were now surrounded by flowing twilight.
George took nervous hold of the control grips.
A disc of yellow light appeared before them, jagged and pixellated. A stylized sun? A clue as to the origin of the G-Net's creators?
Black symbols danced across it briefly, meaningless to George's eyes. This opening screen was basically the same everywhere, with subtle variations depending on location.
It was a simple monochrome format with coarse resolution, easily displayed on the most primitive of systems.
He wondered what ancient alphabet the symbols belonged to. There was no living being who could identify them, much less read them.
A list of selections appeared in English, yellow text against a dark background. This was called a menu-driven interface. Such were obsolete on Earth, but races with modest computer resources required them.
The choices were encyclopedia mode, oracle mode, communication mode, wormhole access, and emergency alert. This last option had not been selected by a human since the Tau Ceti incident.
George made his selection.
The gray backdrop suddenly roiled like the surface of a bubbling cauldron. Distorted imagery writhed, chaotic and undulating. A chorus of voices broke into a hubbub of babble.
Metallic and androgynous, they were identifiable as voices of G-Net software—he'd dealt with their like often enough—but he had never before heard them sound so disturbed. Now and then an isolated phrase could be discerned:
"Lucky Star is marked for destruction—"
"That directive was suspect—"
"Situation remains unclear—"
Terror surged through his veins. He slapped the fat red disconnect knob without really hoping for results; he was surprised and relieved when the display grid brightened to normal and the din abruptly ceased.
His heart was pounding. The Lucky Star was falling toward the wormhole; he needed to veer away. He grabbed the control grips. "Ship! Gravpulse on line, maximum power!"
"Command executed." The generators began to growl.
A squadron of ships boiled suddenly out of the gate like furious hornets. George threw his vessel into a sharp swerve—but he was battling the laws of physics; he would graze the edge of that formation.
Lydia screamed.
"Those are Tyreel battle craft!" she cried.
The comm chime sounded. "Give me a break," said George. "Do they want to talk?"
His momentum worked to his advantage; Lucky Star blew past them before they could react.
He had meant the question rhetorically but the ship answered anyway: "The communication signal is from a party identifying itself as 'your new friend'."
George couldn't help it—he hooted with laughter.
The wormhole and the Tyreel ships were receding astern, but the enemy was swinging around to pursue.
But spacecraft couldn't turn on a dime, so Lucky Star had a breathing space.
"By all means," said George. "Display forward."
The comm window lit with the yellow circle signifying the G-Net. George gave an involuntary shiver.
"I greet you, Captain Wells, and I greet your crew." It was a lone voice this time, pleasantly even, neither male nor female in character. "You may address me as Entity. I represent what you refer to as the G-Net."
"What was the matter just now?" asked George.
"That is actually what I am here to ascertain."
"What do you mean? Are those other entities with you?"
"They listen. I act on behalf of many, but I am autonomous. My decisions will be respected."
George took a ragged breath. "What do you want?"
"You face death."
George gave a mirthless chuckle. "A threat."
"I am not the threat. I offer assistance. You are caught in events that have garnered our attention but you are not at fault. You have drawn the scrutiny of the Zhianese."
"Look, I don't know what that was all about back there, but it's probably them you're after, not us. We haven't done anything wrong."
"Agreed. That is my assessment. We know they are interfering with our functions. I am here to investigate further. In return for my help I ask that you allow me aboard your ship. Let me use it as a base of operations."
George frowned. "You want to commandeer my vessel?"
"Is it not available to transport cargo for hire? Think of me as cargo." A plaintive note had crept into Entity's voice.
"You said base of operations."
"You wish to negotiate?"
George shook his head in consternation. "Why have you chosen us?"
"I have noted that your vessel is well armed?
??"
"I don't want this ship involved in any conflict!" He was helpless to keep his voice from rising.
"The rewards would be commensurate with the danger."
"What rewards?"
"I can offer a long-term association. The Zhianese are today's task. There will be others. We often find it useful to have organics we can count on, to covertly investigate or infiltrate various settings—"
"You want us to be secret agents?" Now George was shouting. He took a deep breath and let it out. "That's not the kind of thing I'd care to get involved in."
"A short term association, then. Limited to transportation only."
"Like a charter?"
"May I assume we've reached agreement?"
George turned to his companions. "Opinions, please. Lydia?"
He saw a fire in her eyes he hadn't expected. "I like that long-term operative offer, myself. We should agree to transport this being."
"Lychel? You've traveled quite a lot."
Lychel's antennae stood erect. "It seems I've been wrong. The G-Net is indeed sentient. I'd tend to concur with Lydia."
"Hero? You're an educated sort."
Hero's eyes glowed. "This seems an opportunity. May I say I'm also inspired to take part?"
"You may." George took a deep breath. "Entity, okay, you're on. We'll at least talk about it."
"Good. You may circle back and enter the wormhole."
George was watching the Tyreel. "They're really closing the gap."
"You can elude them."
"Not forever."
"You will be allowed through the gate. They will not."
"Aren't there more on the other side?"
"Not at present."
"This is against my better judgment, but okay."
"I must turn my attention elsewhere. I will return."
The yellow circle in the comm window disappeared. Reluctantly, George began maneuvering back toward the portal.
"I hope we don't regret this," he said.
"I don't think we will," said Lydia.
"You're really feeling motivated to work for the G-Net?" he asked. "On an ongoing basis?"
"Until today I didn't think there would be any ongoing basis for me," she said. "It's a chance to strike at the Zhianese."
"I can see how that would appeal to you."
"My people will benefit if the Zhianese are brought under control," said Hero.
"True," said George.
"As will mine," said Lychel. "For generations they've been under siege."
"I didn't know that," said George.
"Humanity will be safer too," said Lydia.
"Indeed. Well, I've often wondered why I ventured out this far. Maybe it's fate."
She patted his arm. "It's meant to be."
"For all of us. Saviors of the Galaxy!"
— — —
Here's an excerpt from "Panic Button", which also appears in Incident on Sugar Sand Road and other stories. It is set in the same universe as Saviors of the Galaxy, but it takes place a number of years earlier.
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1
It was just another boring discussion of Galactic politics.
Not local politics, of course—that was too touchy a subject.
Maya Turner had heard it all before. It was sort of pointless to hash it out again, she thought, but that was what Mom and Uncle Charlie were doing on the floor in the kitchen cubby.
"Isolationism isn't a viable option for humans, Susan," Lieutenant Charles Bascomb said in his patronizing voice. "Nobody much supports it these days anyway."
Maya didn't care for his manner, the insufferable jerk. These days she actually hated him. He was just a hired thug who endangered her friends and neighbors. But he was "family" so Mom accepted him like nothing was wrong.
"Why should those Frenn monsters come here if we don't want