The sound of the explosion terminated abruptly as the radio broadcast ended. In orbit, high above, the control centre in the deep spacer began to search automatically for the radio signal, but without any success. Then it tried all of the other broadcast channels. There was nothing. With mechanical tenacity it started over once again and searched with maximum gain, but detected nothing other than atmospherics. After one hour it repeated the search, and every hour after that for the next twenty-four. When this part of the program had been completed it turned on the FTL radio as it had been instructed and sent out the broadcast it had recorded from the man on the ground. When this had been accomplished it would down the power on all of its circuits to minimum maintenance, then wait with infinite patience for its next command.
2: The Smell of Death
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lea asked. Her shoulder had felt the sudden tensing of Brion’s body where it touched him. They were lying back on the deep lounge, completely relaxed, gazing out of the viewing port at the star-filled darkness of interstellar space. His great arm was about her thin body and she was very aware of its sudden rigidity.
“Nothing is wrong, nothing at all. Will you look at those colours …”
“Listen, you darling big slab of muscle, you may be the best weightlifter in the galaxy but you are also the worst liar. Something has happened. Something I don’t know about.”
Brion hesitated a moment, then nodded. “There’s someone close by, someone who hasn’t been here before. Someone bringing trouble.”
“I believe in your empathetic abilities, I’ve seen them at work. So I know that you can sense other peoples emotions. But we’re in deep space, moving between two suns light years apart so how can there be anyone new aboard this ship …” She stopped and looked suddenly out at the stars. “A drop sphere, of course. This must be a rendezvous, not just a normal orientation. Is there another FTL ship out there? With someone transferring from it in a drop sphere?”
“Not coming already arrived. He’s on board now. And he’s coming this way, towards us. I don’t like anything about this. I don’t like the man or the message that he is bringing.”
With a single flowing motion Brion was on his feet, facing about, fists clenched. Although he was well over six feet tall and weighed nearly three-hundred pounds, he moved like a cat. Lea looked up at the solid mass of him towering over her and could almost feel the tension herself.
“You can’t be sure,” she said quietly. “Undoubtedly you are right about someone coming aboard. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that it has anything to do with us.
“One man dead, two men perhaps. And this one who is coming, he smells of death himself. He’s here now.”
Lea gasped as she heard the lounge door sliding open behind her. She looked over her shoulder fearfully, staring at the opening, not knowing what to expect. There was the shuffle of a soft footstep, then a thud. Shuffle, thud. Closer and louder. Then a man appeared in the open doorway, hesitated there as he looked about, blinking as though he had trouble seeing. It took a decided effort for Lea to conceal her instant feeling of repulsion; she had to force herself not to look away. The man’s single eye moved slowly past her to fix on Brion, Then he started forward again, his twisted foot dragging, the crutch coming down heavily with each step. Whatever force had injured his legs must have also torn away the right side of his face. It was bright pink where a new growth of skin; a patch covered the empty eye socket. His right arm was also missing, but an arm bud had been grafted to his clavicle and within a year he would have a complete, new arm. But right now it was only partly grown, a baby’s arm only about a foot long that dangled helplessly from his shoulder. He limped close, slight and twisted, to stand before Brion’s hulking form.
“I’m Carver,” he said, his name a frightful parody of his condition. “I’m here to see you, Brandd.”
“I know.” The tension drained from Brion’s body as suddenly as it had appeared. “Sit down and rest.”
Lea could not stop herself from moving aside as Carver dropped, sighing, onto the lounge beside her. She could hear his heavy breathing, see the perspiration standing out on his skin as he fumbled a capsule from his pocket and put it into his mouth. He looked sideways at her and nodded. “Doctor Lea Morees,” he said. “They want you too.”
“Culrel?” Brion asked. Carver nodded.
“The Cultural Relationships Foundation. I understand you have worked with us before?”
“We did. It was an emergency …”
“It’s always an emergency. Something very important has come up. I was sent to see you.”
“Why us? We’ve just come from a hell-hole of a planet named Dis. Lea has been ill. We were promised some more time before we would be contacted. We agreed to work for your people again, but not right now …”
“I told you it’s always an emergency.” Carver’s voice was hoarse and he pressed his good hand between his knees to stop the trembling. It was pain or fatigue or both and he was not giving in to it. “I’ve just come from another one of these emergencies, as you can see, or I would be going myself. If it makes you feel any better I know what happened to you both on Dis so I offered to take care of this one myself. They laughed at me. I don’t think it was very funny. Are you both ready now?” He turned to face Brion as he said it.
“You can’t force Lea to go, not now. I’ll take care of it myself.” Carver shook his head.
“You’re to go as a team, the orders were specific about that. Shared talents, a synergistic union.
“I’m going with Brion,” Dea said. I’m feeling much better. By the time we get wherever we’re going I’ll be back to normal.”
“That’s very pleasing to hear. As you know we are a fully voluntary organization.” He ignored Brion’s snort of derision as he struggled a flat plastic box from the pocket of his tunic. “As I am sure you are aware, almost all of our assignments deal only with cultures that are in trouble, societies on planets that have been cut off from the mainstream of human contact for thousands of years. We don’t go near newly rediscovered planets that’s the job of Planetary Survey. They go in first, then turn their records over to us. They’re a rough outfit, I did four years with Plansurv before I transferred to Culrel.”
He smiled grimly. “I thought this new job would be easier. Plansurv has a problem and they have asked us for help. In cases like this we always say yes. Are you ready to look at these records now?”
“I’ll get a viewer from our cabin,” Brion said.
Carver nodded wearily, too tired to speak.
“Would you like me to order you something?” Lea asked as Brion went out of the lounge.
“Yes, thank you, a drink of some kind. I’ll wash down a pill with it feel better in a few minutes. But no alcohol, I can’t take any of that yet.”
She felt his eyes on her as she phoned passenger control and gave her order to the computer. When she had finished the call she put back the phone and turned sharply to face him.
“Well do you like what you see?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. But I read your history in the records. I never met anyone from Earth before.”
“What did you expect two heads?”