The Deep Dark Well (27 page)

*    *    *

Fleet Admiral Nagara
Krishnamurta spit the mouthpiece out as the liquid in the cylinder receded
below his chin.  He had always hated the rubbery taste of the mouthpieces.  But
it had served its purpose, allowing the
Danaus
to decelerate thirty
gravities past the range of her inertial compensators, so she and her sisters
would stop well short of the
Donut
. 

That has always been
the problem
,
he thought.  His people could build engines that could propel material objects
at thousands of gravities of acceleration.  But they were limited by the
ability of their inertial compensators to damp more than fifty gravities, and
the human body to handle more than four for any extended length of time. 
Better than their enemy’s tech.  But they knew better had existed in the past. 
That was why his Kingdom needed the
Donut
, or at least to be able to
deny it to their foes.

Krishnamurta dried off
quickly and changed into a comfortable uniform, before exiting his day cabin
and walking onto the bridge.  He had seen the representation of the attack on
the
Donut
by the ships of the
Nation
.  But the data had not yet
been analyzed while he was in the tube.

“Admiral on the
bridge,” called out the navigation officer, just getting into his seat to
spring back to attention.  Only half of the bridge crew were at their posts. 
The others were still in the locker room cubby, changing into dry uniforms. 
The medicinal smell of the liquid used in the acceleration tubes permeated the
room, despite the best efforts of the environmental system to clean the air.

“Report,” ordered the
admiral, as he took his own seat and the rest of the crew turned full attention
to their stations.

“It seems that the
Nation
ships fired torpedoes with their space destroying drives toward the
Donut
,”
said the tactical officer.  “The
Donut
is still intact, though I doubt
they would have the resources to do it too much damage.”

“Probably trying to
knock out some of its defenses,” said the captain.

Yes
, thought Nagara.  And
the
Nation
had the kind of technology they didn’t.  Oh,
Surya
’s
inertialess hyperlight drive was more advanced than the space destroying drive,
much more efficient in its use of energy, though still an enormous drain of
resources.  And it was much safer.  Ships equipped with
Surya
’s version
of interstellar drive were able to build up to much greater velocities than
those using space destroying drive.  But it took time for the ships to build up
to light speed and beyond, while space destroying drive instantaneously
propelled their ships into a pseudo-speed far beyond light.

And now the
Nation
vessels were equipped with torpedoes deploying the same space destroying
drives.

“Did the
Nation of
Humanity
ships suffer any damage at the hands of the
Donut
?” he
asked.

“They seem to have
warped out soon after the attack,” said the science officer.  “Of course our
information is still a couple of hours out of date, and will only improve when
we reach the proximity of the station.”

“I want passive sensors
on all vessels to sweep the area to our front,” ordered the admiral.  “As soon
as we reach our terminus I want all actives to go to full power.  I don’t want
them to know we’re coming.  But I want to know where they are.”

Nagara could read the
expressions on the faces of the bridge crew.  He could imagine the expletives
that were flying around the bridges of the other ships in the squadron.  He was
asking the impossible of them.  Only to keep their own presence secret, while
pinpointing the enemy location.  But his ships were stealthy, much more so than
the warships of his enemies.  His electronic suites were much more sophisticated. 
And his weapons more powerful.  If he could get within optimum beam weapon
range before they knew he was there, he could cripple half their squadron
before they could react.  A very big if.

The admiral sat his
chair, hands gripping the armrests, as he let his crew go about their
business.  They knew what to do, and were very interested in doing their jobs
well.  Since doing them poorly might lead to a disastrous end of the mission.

*    *    *

Pandi had traveled for
over an hour before she ordered the car to stop at the next possible station. 
Of course that meant almost an hour of decel before it was possible to stop. 
The speed of the car was amazing.  But the shortcomings of this mode of travel
were enormous.  Once the car had gotten up to a certain speed the passengers
were trapped for the duration.  No wonder the people of this station had
preferred travel by the wormhole gates. 

Now she was coming to a
stop, in a station whose murals showed it was a
Hustedean
section of the
Donut
.  The door slid open quickly and silently, and she walked into the
station.  Murals of the creatures decorated the walls.  Exotic plants sat in
the planters.  Seats were designed with holes for tails.  She couldn’t wait to
look over this area, to see what these people considered the normal
accouterments of civilization.

“Those look like desert
shrubs,” she said, looking into one of the planters.  The light overhead seemed
kind of harsh and bright as well.

“Hustedeans evolved as
desert dwelling omnivores,” said the computer.  “Day hunters.  The plants and
the ambient light are intended to make them feel at home within the confines of
the station.”

“I guess most
intelligent species were hunters.  At least that’s what the anthropologists and
psychologists thought on Earth.”

“All sentient species
in this Galaxy sprung from hunter gatherer origins, with a single exception.”

Hunter
, thought Pandi.  She
had always thought hunting was a cruel sport.  Now she thought it even more so,
when she was the prey. That thought brought back to her mind her present
situation.

“There aren’t any of
Vengeance’s robots around, are there?”

“Vengeance has no
robots under his control in this part of the station at this time,” answered
the computer.  “But you would do well to use caution in this area.”

“Why this area?”

“Station security
elements in this area are a considerable threat,” answered the computer.

“I thought you ran
station security.”

“Not all inhabitants of
the station fully trusted the central control facility,” said the computer.  “The
Husted race was always suspicious of humans, and integrated their regions of
habitation into their own security and control system.  While I can access the
data coming from this region, I have no control over the independent elements
at work here.”

“OK,” said Pandi with a
huff, “I’ll watch myself.”

“Hey,” she said as a
thought came to her mind.  “Maybe I can take charge of this area for myself. 
It would be nice to have my own turf, where I could retreat and hold off any of
the other inhabitants that might have it out for me.”

“I would advise against
it,” said the computer.  “I say again that I have no control over the security
of this area of the station.  I doubt that the security elements would let a
human gain control of Hustedean habitations.”

“Just point me to the
control room and warn me if anything dangerous is near,” she ordered.  “I’ll
worry about what I can and cannot do.”

Pandi took a lift up a
level and walked through another of the large wormhole gate terminuses.  About
a third of the gates were still active at this terminus, many without barrier
fields, and the adventurer in her wanted to jump into one at random and find
out where it led. 
And end up choking out my life
, she thought,
on
some methane or propane world
.  She had enough adventure right here and now
for any person. 

The arrows on her
helmet visor map pointed the way.  She went through door after door, down one
hall after another, until she wondered if the computer was playing a game with
her.  The scan room computer had said the map was downloaded into her helmet
processor, and the station computer would have no control over it.  But this
was another region of the station, and there must have been an additional
download sometime in the recent past.

“Are we there yet?”

“I urge extreme caution
in this area,” said the computer.  “The hallway ahead leads to the central
control room for this region of the station, and there is bound to be security
in the area.”

Pandi tightened her
grip on her rifle as she stepped into the indicated hallway.  It seemed to
stretch on forever, with numerous doors on each side.  At the end of the hall
it had said.  But when did the hall end?

“The endlessness of the
hall is an illusion,” said the computer.  “It is intended to make whoever is
trying to find the control room become impatient and turn back.”

“It wouldn’t have
worked on me,” she said.  She had walked all over Europe on vacation from
college.  Some of those hikes would have killed an infantryman.

“There is a neural
induction field ahead,” said the computer.  “It would paralyze any chordate
creature that entered its range.”

“Any way I can turn it
off?  Maybe the EMP pistol?”

“It is too heavily
shielded for that weapon,” said the computer.  “I am attempting to access the
local computer system.  This may take a few minutes.”

Pandi waited, again not
sure how much she could trust the station computer.  It had treated her right
so far.  Or had it?  How did she know it wasn’t leading her to do what it
wanted her to do?

“I was not able to turn
the field off, but I did set it to fluctuate.”

“What the hell does
that mean?”

“When I give the signal
to go, run as fast as you can through the hall ahead.  Do not let any feelings
of numbness stop you.”

Feelings of numbness. 
That didn’t sound good.

“Go,” said the computer,
and Pandi didn’t wait to think.  She took off in a sprint.  Five steps into the
run and it felt as if she had the worst head cold of her life.  Her fingers and
toes felt numb, and she couldn’t feel her feet hit the floor.  But she kept her
muscles moving, not allowing her momentum to die, for she knew she would be
stuck in the web.  To die of starvation or thirst?  If there was no one here to
come and get her, that was a definite possibility.

Then she was through,
her head clearing in an instant, her extremities tingling with renewed
feeling.  She kept going for a dozen strides, not wanting to stop too close.

“OK.  Is there anything
else like that ahead?”

“No,” said the
computer.  “Nothing like that.  Nothing quite as harmless.”

“You will be able to warn
me of any dangers ahead?”

“Of course not.  I
warned you about trying to get to the control center.  The defenses are set so
that no one can gain entrance without a struggle, even if they have the aid of
the central station computer.”

Great, she thought,
shaking her head at her own stupidity.  Of course she would still go forward. 
And not just for the reasons she had given the computer.  The region control
center would allow her to access a major computer system separate from the
stations central processor and memory.  Maybe then she could get some of the
answers that the computer had denied her.  Maybe then she could get to the
bottom of the mystery of Watcher and Vengeance.  And the mystery of the fall of
civilization.

When she saw the robots
she thought they were Hustedeans come to life.  The same squat shape, thick
legged with stumpy balancing tail.  Even the surfaces were the same color as
the beings in the murals, sandy tan, to blend in with their desert homes. 
Since she had never seen a living member of their race she couldn’t tell from
their movements.  The glint of light on their polished surfaces gave it away.

Pandi ducked, just as
the first robot brought up a hand weapon and fired soundlessly.  The crack
sounded over her head, the passage of a particle traveling at supersonic
speed.  A projectile weapon, similar to her rifle, though she assumed not as
powerful.  But powerful enough to kill her if it hit her in a vital spot.

A burst of minishapes
over the torso of the first robot assured that she hit a vital place.  The
robot fell backwards and the other two robots brought their own weapons to
bear, as Pandi tried to pull herself closer to the floor while returning fire. 
Something hit her suit, a hard hammer as the material went rigid.  Not rigid enough,
as the power of the pellet still abraded her skin through the clothing. 
Another hit her helmet, a head ringing slap.  At least they weren’t shapes such
as she was firing, or they would have easily penetrated suit and helm, and she
would be lying dead on the floor.

Three quick bursts took
care of the two gun wielding robots.  They fell back into unmoving repose,
pistols still gripped in their vise like hands.

“That set off the alert
system,” warned the computer.  “The reaction force will be coming soon.”