Phule Me Twice (24 page)

"Yes, and your headline-hogging Captain Jester thinks he can throw away centuries of Legion tradition," said Snipe. "Well, your little journey into unreality is over, Sergeant. We're going to do things the Legion way from here on out. And you're going to-"

"Here comes the ship," a voice behind him called suddenly. It added, dryly, "Looks like she's about to land."

"Oh my God!" said Snipe, turning white as a sheet. He turned to Brandy, but she was already moving along the line, giving terse orders to her people. The whole line tensed, looking at the dot of light that was now visible to everybody in the camp. Lower it came, and lower still. Snipe watched in helpless fascination. It seemed to descend agonizingly slowly, but at last it touched down.

After a careful approach, Qual and Sushi reached the hoverjeep only to discover that it was unoccupied. That was a disappointment, though hardly a surprise. Inside the vehicle's cab, the legionnaires found equipment belonging to both Phule and Beeker: notably the captain's Port-a-Brain computer, an item that could put a serious dent in the budgets of most planetary governments.

"That's not something the captain would leave behind unless he was out of choices," said Sushi. "And if Beeker were in any position to protest, he'd have made him take it along anyway. I wonder why he didn't bring it back to camp with him."

"If I am not mistaken, it is still turned on," said Flight Leftenant Qual, pointing at the light glowing on the Port-a-Brain. "Captain Clown must have been in a great rush to leave the vehicle without closing down his brain."

"You're right," said Sushi, suddenly excited. He leaned in and peered more closely at the device. He blew a film of dust off the front panel and looked more closely at the readouts. "Look at that. The modem's operating. I wonder what it's connected to."

"No doubt to whatever the captain was accessing when he left it," said Qual.

"Let me see that computer," said Sushi suddenly. "It wouldn't stay connected to the web that long; the connection will automatically time-out unless there's activity on the user side. So either the captain left only a short while ago...But that's impossible: he's been in camp since before we left. So it's still tuned in to whatever it was picking up when he left here. And my guess is that the something else is-"

"The signal you have been following to here!" Qual finished the sentence. His mouth fell open in a broad grin. "Great Gazma! The Hidden Ones attempt to communicate with the computer!"

Sushi grinned back at him. "It's probably a pretty one-sided conversation, but yeah, I think that's exactly what's going on. I bet they're sending different test signals, trying to get it to respond to them."

Qual's translator emitted a sound the legionnaires had learned to recognize as laughter. "Can they not tell the difference between a sophont and a machine?"

Sushi's expression turned serious. "Funny you should ask. There's a famous experiment some old Earth computer scientist invented. And if the Port-a-Brain has the Hidden Ones fooled into thinking it's a sophont, it's passed the Turing test. Which I guess it ought to, considering the price tag."

"Your machines are designed differently from ours," said Qual. "We know directly whether we are confronting a machine or an intelligent being. Confusion is not wanted."

"I guess machine intelligence is so useful, we humans are willing to put up with a bit of confusion," said Sushi.

"Who needs stupid machines when we have so many stupid people? Besides, this Port-a-Brain may be smarter than all of us put together, but it doesn't look like any living creature I've ever seen. The Hidden Ones must be very strange if they can't tell it's a machine they're trying to talk to...Hey, wait a minute."

"I suppose I can," said Qual, with a reptilian shrug. "But I think it would better utilize our time searching for the captain's butler."

Sushi laughed. "No, I mean I've got an idea what could have happened. Those strange signals we've been receiving-they're all around us here, but we don't see any sign of civilization, except for the hoverjeep and the things in it."

"That is manifestly true," said Qual. "It is a jigsaw."

Sushi frowned, then shrugged and said, "I think maybe the Hidden Ones haven't hidden on purpose. They're just too small for us to notice. And that may prevent them from noticing us-or at least, from recognizing what we are-as much as it prevents us from seeing them."

"Too small?" Qual turned and looked in all directions. "Even very small creatures would need machines and buildings, and we do not see those, either."

"No," admitted Sushi. "But I suddenly feel very confident in this idea. I think it's time to try that experiment I've been talking about. Didn't the captain and Beeker take along translators on their visit to your capital?"

"I think they did," said Qual. "No doubt they would be in the baggage compartments."

The baggage compartment was locked, but that deterred Sushi only a few moments. Sure enough, there were a pair of translators there, neatly packed in their neoplastic carrying cases. By the time Sushi got them out, Qual had signaled the rest of the squad to join them, and (at the Zenobian officer's direction) they began looking around the area for signs of the jeep's occupants.

"With two translators to play with, I've got another idea," said Sushi. "If the Hidden Ones are trying to communicate with this Port-a-Brain, I want to see if there's some way we can hook a translator into it."

Brick, who'd helped Sushi unload the baggage compartment, said, "Sounds like your kind of fun. But why don't you hook it up to your own gizmo first? I mean, the captain's fancy computer's got more brainpower than the Alliance Senate. If it hasn't cracked the language on its own by now-how long's it been working at it, a week?-maybe us sophonts deserve a shot at it."

Sushi laughed. "Maybe you're right," he said. "I'll give that a try first. If nothing else, I've been thinking about it long enough so I have some idea where to start." He set down the translators and headed back to retrieve his receiver and his tool kit.

Perhaps an hour later, Flight Leftenant Qual wandered over to the hoverjeep, where Sushi had set up a makeshift workbench on the tailgate. He took off his dark sunglasses and peered at the electronic tangle. "How functions it, young one?" asked the Zenobian.

Sushi leaned back and sighed. "These things were never meant to fit together," he said. "If I had a parts shop handy, I could probably find something off the shelf to make the job easier. Out here in the field, I've got to kludge it up pretty much from scratch."

"So this signifies it will not perform?" said Qual.

"Oh, I think I can make it work," admitted Sushi. "I've probably voided the captain's warranty on his computer, and it'll never win any beauty contests. But I think he'd approve the project, just on general principles."

"Since you're doing it to save his butler, I guess he would, "said Brick. "He can buy another computer, but Beeker's not going to be easy to replace."

"I just hope Beeker's still in condition to save," said Sushi quietly. "He's been out in the desert for a long time, and all the emergency rations are still in the jeep. Unless he's got some other source of food and water..."

"If the Hidden Ones have seized him, they ought to nourish him," said Qual.

"I hope so," said Sushi. "Problem is, until we can communicate with them, we don't know whether they even know where Beeker is. For all we know, he tried to get back to base with the captain and didn't make it. He's not a young man-"

"I do not think something has happened to Beeker," said Qual. "Captain Clown would surely have talked about it."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" said Sushi. "But something must have happened to him on that trek back to the base. He's not acting anything like himself. Brick, you said he acted like he couldn't even see you when you talked to him."

"Yeah, it was weird," she said solemnly. "He heard my voice and answered my questions, but he kept looking around for me, like I was hiding from him or something. And now that I think about it, some of his answers didn't, like, totally add up."

"Yes, they did not totally total," said Qual. "I spoke to him, and it was as if we were of different species."

"Weird," said Sushi without looking up from his work. He twisted two wires together, then said, "Let's see if I've got it right."

He turned on the translator's power switch, leaned close to hear if the speaker was on, then booted up the Port-a-Brain. Nothing happened.

"Aaah, bad luck," said Brick. "Back to the blank screen, huh?"

Sushi was unperturbed. "Nah, I turned it off when I made the modifications. Now I've got to go back to the program that was up when we found it. I saved the settings. Let's see..." The display changed rapidly as he entered a series of commands. "OK, let's see what we get here," said Sushi, and hit a key.

The translator's speaker emitted a low warming-up buzz, then broke into articulate sounds. "Intersystem Sklern-two thousand at nineteen. Please instruct concerning exercise of pets. Research P/E on Pickup Pizza Ltd Common. Do you receive signals? Trantor Entertainment Preferred-hold until forty-five, then sell five hundred. We will take five hundred. Mark Pickup Pizza Ltd. Common to buy below ten..."

The legionnaires listened for a moment, then Sushi turned to his companions and grinned. "Hey, guess I know what I'm doing after all."

"Acclamations, Sushi," said Qual, showing all his teeth. "At long last the Hidden Ones speak to us!"

"Triff," said Brick. "But what the hell are they talking about?"

"The captain had the computer automatically checking and trading his stocks on the net," said Sushi. "It's sending out commands, and the Hidden Ones obviously thought it was trying to communicate to them. I'd guess they've been trying to get it to respond to them, and it's been carrying on the original program, of course. Now that we've got the communication channel open, we can try to start them talking to us instead of to the Port-a-Brain." He turned to Qual. "Leftenant, you're the officer in charge. What do we want to say to them?"

"Why, that is obvious," said Qual. "Where is the human known as Beeker?"

"OK, you've got it," said Sushi, and he began entering commands as the rest of them looked on expectantly.

The unidentified ship was dropping rapidly, and the legionnaires in their defensive positions kept a wary eye out for possible hostile action on its part. "If it was gonna launch missiles, it woulda done it 'fore it cleared the horizon," said one private.

"Yeah, but laser beams are line-of-sight," Brandy reminded him. "Stay low, and be ready to move when I tell you."

"Can you make out what model it is?" Lieutenant Snipe asked Armstrong, who was still tracking it with his stereoculars. From the corner of his eye, Snipe saw one of the Synthians whiz down the defensive line on a glideboard, wearing a bizarre helmet and carrying some kind of huge weapon.

"Not yet, still too much atmospheric distortion," said Armstrong. "She's midsized, is all I can really tell." He looked at Snipe and said, "If you went over to Comm Central, Mother may have been able to raise them. Maybe they called for authorization to land or something sensible like that."

Snipe nodded, trying to decide what to do. He skipped aside as Chocolate Harry roared by on his hovercycle, leaning over the handlebars with an expression that meant business. Major Botchup had been monitoring the electronic traffic, so he should have picked up any such communication-and the major had not changed his orders. Snipe shook his head and said, "The CO will tell us if there's any word on that front. For now, stay ready for anything."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Lieutenant, that's what we were doing," said Armstrong. He picked up the stereoculars and looked at the approaching ship again, pointedly turning his back to Snipe.

After a few moments, while the noise of the approaching ship got progressively louder, Snipe turned to Brandy. "Sergeant, what plan do you have if the ship opens hostilities?"

Brandy snorted. "Depends a whole lot on what they throw at us, Lieutenant. Landing this close, I don't think they're going to be using any nukes, do you?"

"Nukes?" Snipe gulped. He hadn't even considered that possibility.

"Course, this could be some kind of fanatical suicide mission," Brandy continued. "Maybe they'll try a quick push with conventional force, and then blow the ship's core if we're too tough a nut to crack. Been done before. Not much we can do if that's what we're looking at, is there?"

"Uh, I suppose not," said Snipe. His face was growing pale.

Brandy continued in a voice that carried over the sound of space drives throttling down. "More likely what we get is some softening up with whatever heavy armament the ship's carrying. Something that size could have Class 4 UV lasers, I'd say. Shouldn't hurt as long as you're behind about six inches of lead shielding, or maybe ten feet of packed earth."

"Ten feet?" Snipe looked around, trying to determine where in the trenches he'd have that much cover.

"Yeah, ten feet oughta do," said Brandy. "Once they've got us keeping our heads down, they turn loose whatever they've got in the way of infantry-and then it gets nasty."

"Nasty?" Snipe gulped.

"Yeah, nothing worse than close-quarters combat," said Brandy at top volume. "But you've probably seen it all before, being a second lieutenant and all that."

Snipe had his mouth open, gulping air, when Armstrong called out, "Ship's touching down. Look alive there."

"Look alive!" repeated Brandy at the top of her voice, turning to look at the dust cloud rising around the ship. "Once that dust settles, they can cut loose with any rays they have, so be ready to get down."

The infernal racket of the ship's engines abruptly ceased, and there was a long moment of expectant silence. The dust began to thin out, and Snipe cringed at the notion that death rays might even now be warming up to fry him. He looked around for something to crouch behind and finally settled for a nearby hoverjeep. It wasn't perfect cover, but perhaps it was thick enough to protect against the Class 4 UV that Brandy had warned of. From somewhere out of sight he heard Armstrong say, "Hatches opening."