Joan D Vinge - Lost in Space Read online

  "No, it's working, all right. It's just, I don't know, too damn fast—" He shook his head again as lights flickered to life along the corridor, illuminating the way ahead. The robot rolled past them, and he followed with the rest.

  Back aboard the Jupiter, Will watched his monitor in fascination, seeing through the robot's eyes as the away team moved deeper into the strange ship. He glanced down as the audio light began to blink on his display panel, and touched the volume control. He listened, half frowning, as he heard something that sounded like dripping. "Dad," he said into the microphone, "do you…"

  "… hear something?" the robot asked, echoing Will's query to its human followers. It turned and started on again, and as they followed, the sound of dripping grew louder ahead.

  "Like the drip, drip, drip of blood…" Smith murmured.

  Don looked back at him; Smith's mouth quirked in satisfaction.

  "'You really need to shut up," Don muttered, feeling his face flush as he looked away again.

  "Here." Robinson stopped up ahead, and pointed at the ceiling.

  Don glanced up, and saw the hole: It looked as though the ceiling had been chewed away, by something with unimaginable teeth. There was a service tunnel overhead, barely visible through some kind of viscous membrane that stretched across the jagged opening from one side to the other The membrane was dripping steadily onto the floor in front of them.

  Judy stepped closer to the drip, holding out her remote to take a reading. She studied the data that came up on its displays. "That material appears to be biological."

  Smith grunted "Nothing good will come of this," he said.

  Don glared at him. "You, of course, being the expert on space exploration."

  Smith met his gaze, unsmiling. "Trust me, Major. Evil knows evil."

  Don started on abruptly, cursing Smith under his breath, cursing himself for letting that psychopath get on his nerves. The others followed silentlv; each of them making a careful detour around the dripping membrane, and the widening puddle on the floor

  As they moved on, the ship lit up the way ahead as if it had expected them. The blast door at the corridor's end opened silently, inviting them to pass through into another empty, well-lit space. "Motion sensors are still working," Judy observed, whispering now.

  At the far end of the room Don saw another blast door, sitting partway open, as if it had jammed. This time the metal was twisted and scorched, like it had been hit by weapons-fire. Don touched the damaged door cautiously. "Plasma burns."

  No one made any remarks this time, even Smith.

  Don pushed through the partially open door, the others following one by one. The robot came last, prying the door wide with its powerful arms.

  The passageway bevond held rows of storage lockers, and every locker held a robot. Don stopped, looking back at their own robot, looking again at the models that lined the corridor like bizarre suits of armor. Every one of them was clearly some advanced model, more versatile and sophisticated in design than anything he had seen.

  Behind him Smith looked at their own robot with speculative disdain. "Well, well, aren't we the poor cousin?" he said, as if the robot cared. Or maybe he wasn't talking to the robot.

  Robinson was moving down the row of lockers, studying their occupants with single-minded interest. "Rambler-Krane series robots…"He could have been talking to himself. "But like no design I've ever seen."

  Don moved on restlessly to the far end of the corridor, where the blast doors were lodged wide-open. He looked through, and at last saw what he'd been aching to see: a control room "Down here!" he called, and went inside.

  One look around told him this was too small to be the bridge. It must have been an auxiliary operations post; there must be a lot of them, on a ship this size. But he would have given anything to see what it had looked like before it had become a battle zone.

  He stared at the walls scored by laser bursts, the sections of console where the control panel had been blown eompletel} away. The rest of the team came through and stopped, one by one, staring like he had.

  Don glanced down at his environmental suit. His was military issue, designed for use with specialized equipment in combat situations. But the others were wearing ordinary fieldsuits, without all the cybernetic bells and whistles… without the added protection.

  He looked up again, hoping the differences stayed a moot point. "It's a Remote Ops station. Looks like some kind of firefight."

  Robinson moved to the com and studied the instrument arrays. "Could this ship be some sort of prototype?" he murmured. He touched something on the panel and the power came up, lighting the displays. "The Captain's log has degraded. Maybe I can gather some fragments." His hands moved over the panel with studied efficiency. "Wait… here we go." He looked up, as the main display screen came alive.

  Don watched the screen fill with static snow. Gradually he made out a human face, saw the features begin to granulate in as the computer erased the electronic noise from the image. In the background, the Proteus's

  bridge was becoming visible, its crew moving back and forth in normal shipboard activity; the image alternated with a surface view of the planet they were orbiting.

  Don studied the emerging face of the Captain again, and his breath caught. "Jeb," he whispered. It was Jeb… it couldn't be anyone else. He crossed the room to get closer to the screen, everyone and everything else forgotten. But… but-

  "The hyperspace tracker seems to be functioning," Jeb was saying. His face wavered and for a moment the words dissolved into static. "… No sign of the ]upiter Two …" The image faded, "… have exceeded our timetable…" faded again, "… I'm not willing to give up."

  For one moment the image became perfectly clear, and Don had the uncanny sense that the man on the screen looked straight into his eyes. "Don would keep looking for me." ft was Jeb.

  But the shaven head he remembered so well had grown a shock of cropped black hair… and Jeb had a mustache… there were even laugh lines starting at the corners of his eyes. As if somehow Jeb had aged half a decade overnight.

  Don looked away, rubbing his eyes. When he looked back, there was only static on the screen.

  "That's it," Robinson said. "The rest of the data is totally corrupted."

  Robinson didn't look like someone who'd just seen a man age half a decade in a day. But then, Robinson didn't know Jeb…

  But anyway, that was impossible! All of this had to be impossible … didn't it? "How could they launch a rescue mission for us when we've only been lost a day?" Don asked, and his own voice sounded like a stranger's.

  Nobody answered him; Robinson shook his head.

  "Looks like the}' brought something up from the planet's surface," Judy said, from the Life Sciences console. "Got it…"

  A blurred holograph appeared above the panel, rotating slowly; the degraded image of a peculiar viscous pouch. "It's some sort of egg sack."

  It seemed to be alive, quivering… It reminded him somehow of the dripping membrane they'd seen in the corridor. He looked back over his shoulder at the way they'd come; noticed suddenly that Smith was not in the room. "Smith!" he shouted furiously, starting for the door. "Get back here!"

  Smith reappeared in the doorway before Don could finish crossing the room. "Happy to oblige, Major." Smith smiled, glancing upward, away from Don's angry face. "Although I don't think it's me you should be worrying about. But rather, these…" He pointed at the ceiling.

  Don looked up. In the ceiling overhead there were rows and rows of membrane-covered holes.

  Across the room the robot came alive and said, "I'm detecting motion. Behind you — "

  Don turned back just in time to see a towering shadow-form shoot past another doorway.

  "After it," Robinson said. "Move! Bring Smith," he told the robot, as they ran out the door.

  Don raced down the corridor, and into another world. Flowering vines tendrilled along its walls, becom-ing more thickly matted as he went farther. More vines w
ove a twisted carpet over the metal floor, muffling his steps.

  The foliage grew ever denser, until by the time he finally reached another doorway he was forcing his way through heavy brush. Beyond the doorway was a rain forest. He stopped, staring around him at the rampant overabundance of nature that had somehow flourished here, in the heart of a deserted starship countless light-years from Earth.

  "Hydroponics," Robinson said, as the others joined him.

  "Growth like this would take decades," Judy murmured.

  Don thought of Jeb, looking half a decade older. And this ship—this level of tech made the Jupiter look like a biplane… No way did the ASOMAC he knew possess this kind of technology. Only a starship run by a waking crew on long interstellar voyages would need a hydroponics lab…

  How had the probe ship even followed them here, when they didn't even know where the hell they were? He vaguely remembered the older Jeb in the starship's log saying something about a "hyperspace tracker."

  But that would mean the Proteus had a way to navigate the hyperspace wormholes without a gate.

  My God… He didn't say anything, as the robot arrived in the lab, dragging Smith in one claw.

  "Unhand me, you mechanical moron," Smith said through gritted teeth.

  Don felt a smile start; looked past Smith as a subtle movement in the leaves caught his eye. "Don't move."

  He plunged his gauntleted hand into the bushes, felt it close over something that was neither leaf nor vine-something alive and struggling. Leaves flew as he dragged the thing back out of the bushes into the light.

  The creature he held stared wildly back at him with enormous deep-blue eyes. It looked like a cat … or a teddy bear… no, more like a monkey, with those ears… only its skin was spiny like a tiny dragon's … As he watched, its skin began to change color, mottling from leafy green toward the black of his fieldsuit… Like a chameleon?

  "Excellent!" the robot said, as Will gave the creature a thumbs-up. The robot released Smith from its grasp.

  The squirming creature was entirely the color of his fieldsuit now, as if it only wanted to disappear from sight. As if it was terrified of him.

  Don held it more gently. "Easy there, little buddy," he murmured. "No one's going to hurt you." He began to stroke the creature's head, as if it was a cat. He'd always been good with animals… better than he was with people, usually.

  To his surprise, it stopped struggling and began to croon softly. If actually liked that. Then it began to emit small blawps of contentment, the way a cat might purr. Slowly, its color brightened to a golden-yellow.

  "Looks like you've made a friend," Judy said, smiling at him.

  His own smile widened.

  "Still… I'd hold off a couple of weeks before getting her name tattooed on your arm." She moved on past him to study a fern.

  He looked down at the creature clinging to the front of his fieldsuit, so that he didn't have to look at her. "Do yourself a favor," he muttered. "Don't evolve."

  "How charming," Smith said witheringly. "Doctor Dolittle of outer space."

  "It's possible this is one of the creatures from the alien ship," Robinson remarked, pulling absently at his beard, as if none of their general conversation occurred in a range audible to him.

  The alien climbed Don's arm with four-fingered, suckered hands and feet. It clung to his equipment harness, burying its tiny face against his neck. He laughed in surprise, stroking its back. "It looks like a child."

  Smith grimaced. "If so, my dear Major… what do you suppose happened to its parents?"

  They looked at him. "Let's get back to Remote Ops," Robinson said.

  As they started toward the doorway, Don saw Robinson hesitate a moment and glance back into the canopy of foliage. But there was nothing to see up there. Don shrugged. The faint rustling that seemed to follow them was only leaves moving in the breeze of their passage… Wasn't it?

  Back at Remote Ops, Robinson headed directly to the com and checked its displays. "I've tapped into the internal sensor array," he said. "Besides us, this ship is totally deserted."

  "A ghost ship," Smith muttered again.

  Don ignored him this time, preoccupied with the tiny alien still clinging to his suit. Was it really a child… an orphan? Or only a pet? How long had it been here, all alone? How could you judge the intelligence of an alien life-form, when it was alien … ?

  He sat down and unsealed a pocket flap with his free hand. Baby or pet, there were some things every living creature needed. Digging out one of his ration bars, he turned it over. "And the flavor of the day is… banana/beef." He made a face. "Who thinks up these combinations?"

  The creature watched intently as he tore open the foil. Its eyes were enormous; they reminded him of a fairy tale he'd heard as a child, about a dog with eyes as large as plates. He took a bite of the food bar, chewing loudly. "Mmm. Good," he said. From the corner of his eye he saw a reluctant smile come out on Judy's face.

  "Major West, I highly recommend you never breed," Smith said. "That, by the way, is my medical opinion."

  Don frowned, and offered his food to the tiny alien. It fingered the pouch, emitted a small blawp, and took a tentative bite from the food bar. Its eyes widened further than he would have believed possible, and it ate the whole bar, wrapper and all. "Little thing was hungry," he said, with a satisfied smile.

  "Good Lord, who will spare us the tyranny of the sentimental?" Smith turned away, as if the sight of them was more than he could bear.

  Somewhere in the distance a high-pitched whine began, making the air vibrate faintly around them.

  "I don't like the sound of that sound…" Judy said.

  Don glanced at the com, at the telltale signs of a fire-fight. What really happened to the Proteus's crew—?

  The tiny alien began to scream; it leaped out of Don's arms, landing on Smith's back, clinging to his neck, still shrieking.

  "Get this infernal creature off me!" Smith shouted, trying to slap it loose.

  Judy pulled the shrieking alien off him; it buried its face against her, changing colors, trying to disappear into her suit as the whine grew louder.

  The noise seemed to be coming from above them now. Don looked up. The rows of membrane-covered holes were trembling, distorting as though something-no, things, a lot of them, were trying to push their way through.

  Ghost ship … ? Don reached for his gun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dn the Jupiter Two's bridge, Maureen Robinson wiped sweat from her forehead and peered down into the entrails of the sensor console again. She and Penny had spent the time since the away team had gone out working to get the last of their damaged information systems back online, while Will watched over the others' progress through the robot's eyes. This was a job that had to be finished before they could make sense of the data coming in; and it kept their minds off other things.

  Why is it you never have a hairpin when you need one? Maureen thought irritably. She had tried everything else to repair this damn connection. At least the ship had been well stocked with replacement components: Like the iron men in wooden ships who had sailed Earth's seas for centuries, the Jupiter's crew had to be able to fend for themselves in an emergency far from home… Hah. Got it. She smiled.

  Penny looked up from rewiring the final monitor and said, "Try it now."

  Maureen activated the console; the displays came alive, showing her all green, indicating the system was fully operational at last. Maureen smiled at her daughter and gave her an appreciative nod. She looked down at the displays again as the data she'd been waiting for began to fill the screens. "Strange…" She studied the infrared image of the Proteus's outer hull, the peculiar patches of scales on its smooth metallic skin. "Those scales are giving off heat."

  Penny came to stand beside her, looking at the screen, her forehead furrowing.

  "Give me an external view," Maureen said. Penny input the command. Their view of the Proteus widened, until they could see the Jupiter Two b
eside it in space. As they watched, the silver disks on the hull of the probe ship began to move, stirring like crustaceans disturbed by an unseen tide: They were alive…

  One by one they rose up on spindly crablike legs… No, not like crabs. Like spiders. Spiders in armor. Maureen watched in horrified fascination as the aliens skittered silently over the Proteus's hull.

  And began to disappear, one by one. She realized now that what had appeared to be the starship's seamless ceralloy hull was actually riddled with holes, each one covered by some sort of living membrane. They were going into the ship. "John," she breathed, "get the hell out of there…"

  The tiny alien's shrieking reached new heights of hysteria as a shape began to push through the membranous hole in the ceiling.

  Don drew his gun as the membrane excreted a techo-organic monster. It dropped to the floor in front of them, a living machine with a metal carapace supported on translucent spidery limbs. A taloned whip of tail lashed the air like a scorpion's stinger. Binocular protrusions on what he guessed was a head swiveled toward him, reminding him eerily of the mindless eyes of a 3D cam. Eyes…

  More spider-aliens were pushing through the membrane, thudding to the floor behind it. Abruptly the thing in front of him scuttled toward him and sprang, its razor-edged maw gaping, as if it wanted to be the first to—

  Don jerked his gun up and fired.

  The laser bolt refracted harmlessly off the thing's metallic torso. The alien clanged to the floor, retracting its limbs and eyes as the impact of the shot knocked it spinning back into the mass of spiders.

  "Out!" John shouted. "Now!"

  Don fled with the rest back down the corridor that led to the airlock. The spider-things poured into the hallway after them, ricocheting and rebounding off walls and floor as though gravity didn't exist, while more monsters dropped down through the ceiling above their heads.

  On the bridge of the Jupiter Two, Will worked frantically at his keyboard, making his robot the last line of defense for his father's fleeing team. "These controls are too slow!" He shoved away from the keyboard. "Activate holographic interface." A virtual simulacrum of the robot appeared in the center of the room. He stepped inside it, and the image synchronized with his motion. He spun, facing backward, and fired its weapon simulators.