The Cyborg from Earth Page 6

  Finally a hand was raised over on the right. It was the bantam redhead.

  "Captain, are other BorCom ships on the way here? I mean, like, reinforcements."

  Dufferin shook his head. "We do not judge that to be necessary. It is well known that the inhabitants of this region do not favor the use of weapons, and never have."

  "I know that, sir, but I mean—"

  "If there are no other questions?" Captain Dufferin surveyed the group. "Very well. You are dismissed. You may return to your duties."

  He marched rapidly out of the room. Most of the group left after him, talking among themselves. In half a minute Jeff found himself with just the two strangers. He expected they might introduce themselves, but instead the woman stared at the man disapprovingly and shook her head. "Questions, questions. Russo, you orter know better. Jinners don' do that."

  "I know." The shriveled little man scowled. "But I had to ask. I may not be big, and I may not see good, and I may not hear good, but when it comes to a smeller"—he reached up and tapped the side of his beaky nose with two fingers—"I got the best. 'Specially for trouble. An' when old Squeaky says we jus' send a message, an' tell the Cloudlanders to lie down an' roll over, why then—" He paused and pointed a finger at Jeff as though he had just noticed him. "He with you?"

  "No," the woman said. "You right." She turned to Jeff. "What you doon here?"

  Jeff didn't know. He was just sitting. Since no one had assigned him duties, he had no reason to be anywhere. But it was obvious that the other man had known that he was there—so why the fake surprise at Jeff's presence?

  "I'm not doing anything here."

  "Then you ought to get the hell an' gone," said the man. But the woman raised a broad, black hand. "Hoi' it, Russo." Then, to Jeff, "You the Kopal, right?"

  The Kopal? "I'm Jeff Kopal, yes."

  "And you even looks summat human." She surveyed the long cabin. "We'll see. You wanna listen, all right. Not here, though. Come on with us."

  She slid her ample behind off the chair and started to head aft.

  "Hooglich!" the man said. "He might be one of Squeaky's."

  "Then we'll fin' out, won' we?" She kept going. "An' the sooner we know, the better."

  Russo trailed along after her. Jeff, not at all sure he was doing the right thing, followed. He knew he was being manipulated, but he didn't have any idea why. He went through a round, sliding hatch and found himself in a part of the ship where he had never been before. The cabins were more filled with equipment than the rest of the Aurora, and yet neater.

  The woman stopped and flopped into a huge chair just wide enough for her broad behind. She indicated that Jeff should sit down.

  "I'm Hooglich," she said. "That there's Rustbucket Smucker—Russo, for choice. How you call?"

  He couldn't decide if she was asking his name, or what he preferred to be called. "I'm Jefferson Kopal, Jeff for short."

  "An' I'm Mercy Hooglich. Hooglich for short an' for long. So, Jeff Kopal. You new to navy, new to here. What you think 'bout what Squeaky say?"

  "Squeaky?"

  "Captain Dufferin," Russo said. "Squeaky for short, but he don't know it."

  Jeff wasn't sure what the others were up to. The only thing he could think of was to be absolutely honest. "I'm not a spy for the captain, if that's what you were worried about. But how do I know that one of you two isn't?"

  Hooglich chuckled and slapped the tight-stretched cloth of her pants so that a wave of fat undulated along her thigh. "Hear the man, Brother Russo. Us spies? But we not. We jinners, an' jinners make bad spies—all navy tell you that."

  Jinners? Jeff thought he knew all the ranks in the Space Navy, but this was new to him. He was finally forced to shake his head.

  "I'm sorry. I don't know what a jinner is."

  "You don't?" Russo's red eyebrows rose until they seemed ready to meet his hairline. "Why, we're the most important people on this ship, that's all—on any ship."

  "But Captain Dufferin—"Jeff remembered the advice his father had once given him, talking about the Space Navy: "If you're not sure what it is, salute it." But he couldn't see himself saluting Hooglich or Russo.

  "Forget of Squeaky for a minute." Russo rocked backward and forward on his heels in a fair imitation of the oscillating captain. "He don't know sweet fanny about anythin'. An' he's no worse than the rest of 'em, with their ribbons and stars and white hats. Take as many admirals and commanders and captains and mates as you like, you still can't run a ship. Engines and servos and sensors and life support, they're what makes a ship work. An' we run them. Jinners run ships!"

  He spoke the final words like a rallying cry, and Jeff realized what had seemed familiar about some of the people listening to Captain Dufferin. He had seen smudges like that often enough—on himself, after a session on the old aircars.

  "You're engineers! Jinners are engineers. You service the drive and the attitude control system and air system and navigation system and you operate the communications system and autochefs and computers."

  The words came out of him in one great burst and he had to pause at last for breath. He realized that he had been sitting down when Russo was speaking, but somehow he was now on his feet.

  The other two stared at him, then at each other. Finally they turned to give Jeff a longer second inspection.

  "Well, how 'bout that," Hooglich said slowly. "Proves yer never can tell. But you was right, Russo. I think mebbe we cotched us a live one."

  She grunted as she raised her bulk from the chair.

  "Brother Kopal, how'd yer like me to give yer a look-see roun the real bizness end of the Aurora."

  Chapter Six

  LET me ask you, Brother Kopal." They had reached another part of the ship that Jeff had never seen, a long descending corridor running right around the circumference of the inner hull as it spiraled aft. Russo had not come with them, and the helical tunnel was not much wider than Mercy Hooglich. As she led the way she spoke to Jeff over her shoulder. "Back on Earth, you got servants, right? Cook, cleaner, valet, butler, an' all."

  "Yes." Was she criticizing him? He had no say in who worked at Kopal Manor, the servants were just there. Anyway, he didn't feel that they really worked for him. He was always uncomfortable when he had to ask anyone to do anything.

  "So where they live, Brother Kopal?"

  "In the house, like the rest of us."

  "An' which part of house?"

  "Downstairs. In the basement levels."

  "So. It same here. Same in all navy. Jinners—us—us live down on lower levels, near the engines."

  "But why? You seem to run the whole ship."

  "Why you think?" She turned her head. "Wouldn't wan' people, would yer, like me an' ol' Russo—dirty people from Pool—rubbin' 'gainst them cap'ns 'n' admirals."

  She was confirming what Jeff already suspected. She was from the Pool, Earth's great mass of unemployed and unemployables. Her speech was unlike that of the few Pool people he had met, but it was even less like anyone's in the Kopal and Lazenby circle of acquaintance. How had someone from the uneducated Pool made it into the prestigious Space Navy?

  That was something to ponder over as they moved into a new section of the ship, where the broad midsection curved from its maximum width and began to narrow toward the rear. Jeff had examined the Aurora profile when he approached to board. It had the form of a swollen fish, enormously bloated in the middle to a near sphere. On the top, secured to the hull, was the little pinnace that could serve either as a space runabout or an emergency lifeboat. At the bow, where Captain Dufferin had his control room, the ship narrowed to a thin spike twenty meters long. The transparent bubble of an observation nacelle sat out at the very end, accessible only through the narrowest of crawlways. Jeff or Russo might wriggle out along it, Hooglich never. Aft—where they were heading—lay the engine room, and beyond that the fluted tail fins of the Diabelli fusion drive.

  Jeff knew a good deal about the Omnivore engines of the d
rive. But he had never actually seen them. He had the shakes at the prospect—not the unpleasant tremor that accompanied family events, but something curiously pleasurable.

  "And here we are, Brother Kopal." They had reached a little control panel beside a circular plate in the floor. Hooglich tapped in a four-digit sequence. "Now we hafta wait. Take a few seconds to cycle."

  The plate began steadily turning around its center.

  "How did you know my name was Kopal?" Jeff asked. "I mean, you knew it before anybody said it."

  She laughed, a full-throated guffaw that set her whole body jiggling. "Through the Vine—the grapevine, that is. The navy's the worst place in the universe to keep a secret. You find gossip tagged onto the end of almost every official communication. Before you came here there was talk for days. A Kopal and a Lazenby were joining the navy less than a week apart. The Lazenby goes to Central Command, no surprise there—but the Kopal ships out on a BorCom dumpship like the Aurora, with a captain who's known to resent all Kopals because he's not one. That makes no sense. No one seems to know what's going on—and that includes me."

  She stared at him expectantly. Jeff stared right back at her. He knew exactly why he was on the Aurora rather than in Central Command, but he didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he said, "What happened? Your speech is different. I can understand you easily now, and I couldn't before."

  She gave him a grin, with more and whiter teeth than a human head should hold. "Well, I guess you jus' be gettin' smarter. Or mebbe you think it 'cause we way aft, none of yer hi-ups officer comes this way. Wouldn't do, eh, 'f us dumb folk from the Pool start talkin' the top-chat line, like ol' Cap'n Duf'rin. Bes' talk like this-aways, see, makes navy peoples feel good."

  "Now you're faking it again. But you were willing to talk normally to me just now. How do you know I won't go and tell the captain that you can talk perfectly standard navy talk when you choose?"

  "Maybe you'll do that. Be my guest, tell him anything you like. Do you think that would be a good idea, though?"

  It took less than a second to decide. "No, it wouldn't."

  "Quite right. For one thing, Captain Dufferin probably wouldn't believe you. And if somehow you did manage to persuade him—it wouldn't be easy, he has a head like Stedman plate—he'd hate you for bringing him bad news. It's the old story: Shoot the messenger."

  "If you're willing to talk to me, why did you make such a big deal at the beginning of my being a Kopal?"

  "Because you are one. Because it is a big deal. Anything involving a Kopal makes waves through the whole Space Navy. That's simple fact. Lazenbys are important, too, but Kopals are it. That's not the only data point, though. You see, I put a lot of faith in my instincts. I also trust Russo's big sniffer. After we took a good first look at you and saw you staring at the control panel, Russo gave me a wink and whispered 'Jinner!' I agree. You're a Kopal, no doubt about that; but you're a jinner, too, if ever I saw one. That's one strange combination. Did you ever take machines apart?"

  Jeff nodded. He began to describe his work to restore the old aircar in the barn—"Manuals are for sissies," Hooglich said at one point—but he couldn't take his eyes off the circular plate. It was turning, slowly, slowly. At last it stopped and began to rise clear of the floor without any visible support. His voice faded.

  Mercy Hooglich moved forward. "Come on. I can see we'll get no sense out of you 'til after this." She led the way down a turning staircase beneath the plate, remarking as she went, "There's an elevator, pretty useful if you're climbing up forward and the drive's on high setting. But we're only at one-sixth G, and you'll see more this way."

  Jeff followed her and found himself in a tall cylindrical chamber about ten meters high. Ladders ran around the walls, and a walkway—vertical, now that the drive was on—ran along the middle of the room. Set in a hexagonal pattern between the walkway and external wall were half a dozen innocent-looking blue cylinders, each one about four meters long and no more than a meter across.

  "Is it all right if I—" Jeff paused, his hand reached out halfway to one.

  Hooglich nodded. "Go right ahead. Touch if you want. But you won't feel anything."

  Jeff placed his fingertips on the side of one of the pale blue tubes. The surface was cool to the touch, and he felt—or imagined—a slight vibration there. It was hard to believe, but under his hand sat the burning heart of a Diabelli Omnivore. The drive was on, and the fusion reactions must be taking place within a few inches of his fingers.

  "Hydrogen fusion at the moment," Hooglich said. The fat woman was observing Jeff closely. Most people in the Diabelli chamber were blue-funk nervous, even if they tried to hide it. They knew they were within feet of temperatures as hot as the inside of a star. This visitor appeared enthralled. "Hydrogen is easy to find, most places you go. But if we don't have hydrogen we can live off the land. The Omnivores use anything lighter than iron as fusion fuel." She patted the bulbous cylinder affectionately. "Nothing heavier than iron, though. You see, Brother—"

  "I know. Iron is where the binding energy per nucleon reaches a maximum. If you fuse anything heavier than iron, it takes energy instead of giving it."

  "Hmm." She stood staring at him, her head cocked to one side. "Where'd you pick that up? Not in navy training, that's for sure."

  "I've had free access to query links as long as I remember."

  "Maybe you have. But most people don't access science stuff, even when it's available. Anyway, the Omnivores can operate in five different modes, depending on what's available." She tapped a point near the top end of the cylinder. "Fusion takes place right here, inside this section. Sometime when the drive is off, if you like I'll pull an Omnivore head and let you see what it's like inside. Interested?"

  "Sure!"

  "I thought you'd say that. And here, see"—she was descending farther, to a ring of complicated displays and switches—"we have the indicators and controls. The drive can be turned on and off here, by individual Omnivore units if we want to."

  "But I thought the control room for the drive was up front, on the bridge with Captain Dufferin. In fact, I saw it there."

  "I'm sure you did. But commands given there all come here prior to execution. They can be overridden from here, too. Of course, that would only be done in an emergency."

  "What sort of emergency?"

  "That's a good question." She pursed her lips. "I don't know—until it happens. Let's put it this way: Do you feel comfortable knowing that Squeaky Dufferin is making the decisions for all of us? He has the worst reputation in the whole fleet, you know—and that includes officers in CenCom, Sol-Com, and BorCom. He can't make up his mind, can't fly a ship, and can't keep control of himself. Why they put him in charge of a tricky assignment like this, I'll never know."

  "If he's so bad, why do you ship with him?"

  "You think people like me and Russo have much choice? We're not like you, a Kopal, with the whole universe open. We take what we can get, and feel lucky to have it. Squeaky's the worst, but there's others nearly as bad."

  "But how did you get out of the Pool? I mean, Pool people, they're—"

  Jeff stopped. He had been going to say what all his family stated as self-evident truth, that Pool people were ignorant and lazy and uneducated.

  "Pool people what?" Hooglich scowled. "Stupid?"

  "Well . . . ."

  "If you were going to say that, you'd mostly be right. The Pool's no different from anyplace else—full of dummies. But the people who run the Space Navy understand what a population bell curve is. Do you. Brother Kopal?"

  She said it like a challenge. Jeff knew the answer, but he wasn't sure he could state it clearly. "It means that in a big population, you'll have lots and lots of people who are about average. Say, of average height. But if the population follows a bell curve, you'll always get a few people who are really tall or really short."

  "Good enough. And a normal distribution—that's the fancy name for a bell curve—also applies to smarts
. Did you know that most navy jinners come from the Pool? But you should see the tests we had to take. We struggled every step, eighteen hours a day; the tests got harder and harder and harder. You, you're a Kopal. You waltzed through, roses all the way, an' everyone applauding."

  If only she knew! It was a relief when she went on, "But enough of Pool and people talk. What do you think of the drive?"

  More than enough people talk. She had no idea by how narrow a margin he had scraped into the navy, or how his cousins, uncles, and aunts felt about him.

  He forced his mind away from that dead-end subject. What did he think of the drive, and the whole power and control system of the Aurora?