Trojan Horse (Stiletto 3)

    "Puss," Pavra said to the huge felinoid who was pacing at Avon's bedside, first on all fours, then rising to her hind legs as naturally as a human. "Blake agreed. We've a free hand with Avon's treatment."
    The tigris purred, uncoiled her forepaws into claw-tipped digits remarkably similar to human fingers and gathered Avon's limp form to her chest. Her whiskers arched, brushing the dark head that lolled against her ivory-colored belly fur as she nuzzled him.
    Pavra's amber, slightly slanted, eyes met the blue frost of the tigris's. "Take him to the recreation room. I'll call Dayna and Soolin."

    With all the chairs and tables retracted into the bulkheads, the thickly padded floors of Stiletto's recreation room made it suitable for martial arts practice, or another exercise program. Pavra doubted that it had ever been put to this particular use, but then, they'd stolen the ship from Servalan. Who knew what that woman did in her spare time? The three women and the cat gathered around Avon, who lay in the center of the padded area. His eyes were open, his face blank.
    "Orac says Avon's catatonia could be negated by the application of pleasurable stimuli. Puss, as an empath, will be ‘sending' positive emotions. Our part will be more physical. With Orac's help, I've set up a sense-surround program that should further reassure Avon's subconscious." Pavra flipped a switch and the bare room vanished, replaced by a tropical beach, complete with swaying palms, bright jungle flowers, sparkling white sand and an endless succession of perfect waves. Seagulls floated overhead, patterned against a sky so blue that it vibrated with hidden colors.
    "That's some hologram program," Soolin said, impressed.
    "It gets better." Pavra activated the rest of the program. The surf boomed, the seabirds mewed and the foliage rustled, blown by a breeze that wafted from the ocean bearing a faintly fishy odor to blend with the sweet fragrance of exotic blooms.
    Dayna held her hands out to the yellow-white blaze of the sun, enjoying the warmth produced by hidden infrared projectors. "It's amazing. But will it work?" She glanced at Avon.
    "We can only try." Pavra said as she stripped off her robe.

    "What the hell?" Avon awoke, confused. He stared at the bodies encircling him; cream pale skin, olive toned skin, mocha brown skin and, pressed against him, an expanse of silver and black striped fur. "Where…" He looked at paradise and tried to sift the sand through his fingers, only to encounter synthetic padding. Experimentally, he patted the furred body beside him. Puss woke at the touch and turned to him. An odd sensation filled the computer tech's mind; a warm, affectionate buzz. Attempting to back away from the cat, Avon tripped and fell heavily onto his back. He stared upward into a quartet of concerned female faces.
    Pavra switched off the sense-surround program and the primitive environment reverted to the metal and plastic of the recreation room. Avon looked down at his nude body, then up at the others. He flinched from the tigris' intense scrutiny and ducked his head, hiding his face in his hands.
    "Are you in pain?" Dayna asked.
    "No, it's my memory."
    "Can't you remember anything, Avon?" Soolin worried about possible brain damage.
    "That's the problem." Avon lifted his head and smiled ruefully. "I remember everything."

    "Vila."
    Uh oh. The thief didn't care for Avon's "I've got a little job for you" voice. "Sorry, Avon. I've got to go check on Blake."
    "No, you don't. His shoulder is almost healed. I require your assistance far more than he needs a nursemaid."
    "He wouldn't have got shot if he hadn't been hauling you to safety," Vila pointed out.
    "Which wouldn't have been necessary in the first place if Blake hadn't poisoned me to blackmail me into helping him," Avon retorted.
    "Well, you're all right now, and Blake did save your neck." Vila attempted to slip away.
   "Vila," Avon was becoming exasperated, "you would like to live a little longer, wouldn't you?" Having got Vila's attention, Avon continued, "The two robots put on board at Del 10 to render our hand-weapons and armory inaccessible during our visit are still here."
    "We left in kind of a hurry, with Peace Enforcers on our tail. What's the matter- want your deposit back?"
    "No, I want to forcibly reprogram those machines so that we can get at our weapons."
    "It would be easier to get new guns," Vila said. "I'd be willing to help you tackle the little one, he's no more than a safe with arms, but the big guy looks mean."
    "We'll start with the little one," Avon promised him.

    A trickle of current into unshielded circuitry paralyzed the squat silver machine while Avon substituted his own program chips for the originals. "All yours, Vila."
    "Piece of cake." Vila quickly opened the robot's storage compartment, stuffed with hand weapons confiscated from the crew. He drew out a slender blaster. "Soolin will be glad to have this back."
    "She'll have to wait a trifle longer." Avon took the gun and checked its power reserve. "Big brother may not be as cooperative."
    As they approached the armory, the large humanoid robot posted before the door shifted its bullet- shaped head, an ominous red light burning where a human would have had eyes.
    "It doesn't like me, I can tell," Vila said, halting. "Let's wait until its batteries die."
    "Get on with it, Vila." Avon paid out a loop of cable. "It'll take a stronger charge to knock out this one. Don't forget the insulated gloves."
    "I don't forget when I'm working." Vila drew on the clumsy gloves.
    "Just get the chest panel open. I'll do the rest." Avon tossed the live wire at the robot, but it caught the cable, holding it in its flexible, rubberized pincers.
    Vila backed to a safer distance. "Now you made him angry."
    "Nonsense. Machines have no emotions, only programmed responses."
    "Maybe it was programmed to get mad if you try to fry its circuits." Vila continued his retreat.
    "Wait here, Vila. Keep an eye on it." Avon headed for the supply room nearest the armory.
     "Keep an eye on it?" Vila complained to Avon's back. "Now, big fella," Vila addressed the robot, "you don't want to hurt me. I'm your friend. Like a bottle of high grade lubricant?"
    "Vila, I said to watch it, not turn it into a drinking companion." Avon returned, carrying a fine copper mesh. "Stand back." He flung the net at the robot. The webbing unfolded as it flew, draping over the robot to contact the electrified wire. The automaton quivered as an electric storm raged in its ‘brain'.
    Avon eyed the inert hulk. "Open the chest panel now, Vila."
    "Why bother? He's done for."
    "Vila, it won't stay done for. That current threw the circuit breakers. We have three minutes before it reactivates."
    "And it started out such a nice day," Vila muttered as he worked. "Done!" He moved aside from the opened panel.
    Wearing insulated gauntlets, Avon replaced circuit boards, tossing the old ones to the floor. The last board resisted his thick fingers.
    "Avon!" Vila shouted a warning. "The light's back. It's alive!"
    Avon tore off his right glove and plunged his bare hand into the panel, snapping the board loose as the electricity hit him, flinging him back.
    "You did it."
    Avon blinked, and looked at the robot. Its light sensors dark, it stood like a statue, upraised pincers still clutching the cable. "Shut the power, Vila," Avon said, wincing as he moved his burnt fingers.

    Not having an immediate use for the robots, Avon humored Vila's fears by locking the two mechanical men away in a storeroom. Vila hoped that acquiring the robots would satisfy Avon, so that the thief wouldn't be asked to do any more work for a while, but Vila made a mistake.
    To repay Pavra for bailing him out of jail on Del 10 Vila gave her a ring, part of the loot he stole from the detention center where he, Pavra and Puss had rescued the others. The jewel aroused Avon's curiosity, so he borrowed the ring to test.

    "Vila." Avon held out the rainbow-refracting ring to the thief. "Do you have any more stones like this?"
    "A couple," Vila replied cautiously. "Why?"
    "I want them."
    "I'm saving them for a rainy day. You know, something for my old age, when I'm too feeble to steal for myself."
    "Knowing Blake, we'll soon be standing in a deluge. I need a substitute for the Dynamon crystals I used in Scorpio's teleport. This," Avon said as he flashed the ring in Vila's face, "is that substitute."
    "My pension plan." Vila sighed. "I hope you don't need all of them."

    As he feared, Vila was conscripted to help Avon with the teleport. He wondered why Avon refused Dayna's offer of help, but then he noticed Avon was avoiding close contact with the entire female contingent of the crew. He seemed especially wary of Puss.
    Avon worked long hours on the teleport. Since the recreation room encounter Puss had been overly friendly toward Avon. So far she'd abided his diplomatic refusals, but in the event the tigris grew impatient, he wanted a quick exit.

    "The teleport system's complete," Avon told Blake. "It should be tested."
    Blake rubbed his sore shoulder in an absent-minded fashion as he inspected the teleport. "The controls look much simpler than Liberator's ."
    Avon explained, "The controls are linked through Stiletto's computer system so the teleport can be operated remotely."
    "Orac can do that now."
    "Orac always said that operating the teleport was a waste of his talents, and I have to agree."
    Blake nodded, "He's been busy with the command codes Servalan gave me. I think he enjoys playing with the Federation's computers."
    "I know. I suggested some of the games. I still find it difficult to credit that Servalan gave up the codes."
    "And the password," Blake added. "I didn't know what to expect when I said ‘Iliad'. I wouldn't have been surprised if the ship had self-destructed."
    Avon glanced at Blake oddly. "That was the password- 'Iliad'?"
    "Yes, why? I'd assumed it was meaningless. Wasn't it?"
    "I'm not sure. It's familiar, somehow significant, but it eludes me."
    "What does it matter? The command codes work. Orac's been accessing and changing information in computers across the Federation."
    Avon grinned. "I imagine the revised formula Orac substituted for the suppressant drug Pylene 50 will have interesting effects once it's put into production."
    "When people begin to wake up and fight, we'll have to move fast, Avon. We'll need the teleport."
    "Ask for a volunteer to test it." Avon held out a tray filled with gleaming silvery bracelets, inlaid circuitry and crystal control buttons appearing as abstract designs. "I don't doubt you'll find one."
    Blake took one of the bracelets, running his fingers lightly over the crystals. "I'll go myself."
    "If you like. Where shall we try it?"
    "Nearest uninhabited planet with an earth-like environment."

    "Doesn't look like much," Vila commented on the brownish-gray planet filling the viewscreen.
    Blake said, "I don't intend a sight-seeing tour, Vila. Just down and back."
    From her position at armaments, Soolin said, "You ought to take someone along, Blake."
    "It's a barren world. I doubt there's anything more highly evolved than a lizard down there." Blake buckled on his blaster. "But I won't take any chances." He activated the intercom. "Avon, I'm on my way."
    After Blake left, Vila turned a glum face to Soolin. "Weren't there big lizards on Earth once? They called them dinosaurs."
    "That's not the kind of lizards Blake meant."
    "Who knows what's down there? Place hasn't even got a decent name," Vila grumbled. "Krypt- what sort of a name is that?"

    Blake stepped onto the slightly raised platform of the teleport pad. "Now, Avon."
    The familiar white glow of the teleport formed, but did not confine itself to the platform. Erupting outward from Blake's position, the blaze engulfed the room, halting just before Avon's console, before collapsing in upon itself.

    Tarrant and Dayna were off duty, relaxing in the dining area over coffee when Stiletto lurched, upsetting their cups. Alarmed, they raced to the flight deck. Tarrant skidded to a halt at the helm controls and stabilized their orbit before he sat down. "Massive power disruption- what happened?" he demanded.
    Soolin said, "Avon teleported Blake to Krypt. Could that have…"
    Blake's voice interrupted her, coming from his bracelet communicator. "Avon, what are you waiting for? Bring me up."
    Tarrant leaned forward. "Are you all right, Blake?"
    "Fine. What's the problem up there?"
    "Sudden power loss, unexplained so far." The pilot opened the intercom. "Avon… come in, Avon." The line remained silent.
    Dayna said, "I'll go." Before she cleared the doorway, Puss had pushed past her, reverting to four-legged locomotion.
    Tarrant told Blake, "I can't raise Avon. Dayna's gone to check on him. What's your situation?"
    "Haven't seen any animal life at all. Peaceful as the grave so far."
    Under his breath, Vila said to Soolin, "Wish he hadn't put it like that."

    Puss arrived at the teleport before the woman. Hearing a high-pitched feline wail of distress made Dayna pause when she did get there. The tigris was kneeling on the floor, holding Avon, his bloody face pressed to her furred chest.
    Dayna said, "Crying won't do any good. Let me look at him, Puss."
    The cat gave a grumbling growl, but allowed Dayna to determine that the impressive amount of gore originated in a simple nosebleed.
    Avon stirred, groaning.
    "What happened, Avon?"
    "Teleport malfunction. Blake, is he…?"
    Dayna said, "Blake called from Krypt. He sounded all right. He said the place was quiet."
    The tigris began washing Avon's face, ignoring his resistance.
    "Looks like a tornado was here." Dayna gestured at the windrows of debris gathered by the teleport platform.

    Avon removed the cover panels from the teleport machinery to inspect the electronic and mechanical components. "There's nothing wrong with the teleport. It should function normally."
    "Then why didn't it?" Dayna asked.
    "Stiletto's computer set the field strength too high. It sent most of the air in the room down with Blake. It might just as well have set it too low, and teleported half a Blake to the surface."
    "Ugh."

    "Something is definitely amiss." Avon wormed his way out from under the navigation console on the flight deck. "Test runs show a marked deterioration in the main computer. The system is failing."
    Tarrant hovered over Avon, worried. "You're the computer expert. Can't you fix it?"
    "How? The hardware isn't at fault. The program is being attacked- internally. I could wipe the memory core, but I haven't got copies of the original data to reprogram it. As a stop-gap measure, I've set up internal checking; it will run computations three times for confirmation before acting on them."
    "How well will that work?"
    "It might last until we reach Athena Station." Avon didn't sound optimistic.
    "Never heard of it," Tarrant said.
    "It's a hollow asteroid, colonized by technological researchers. They have an A. I. program headed by one of Ensor's students."
    Vila had been hovering in the background, hoping to hear good news. "A. I.?" he asked.
    "Artificial Intelligence." Avon looked at Vila. "As opposed to the natural sort, which would also be a novelty to you." Avon ran another test and frowned at the results. "Still not right, but adequate, supposing that the virus continues to spread at its present rate."
    "Virus? How could we catch a computer disease?" Tarrant asked.
    "I don't…" Avon rocked back in his seat. "Of course. Iliad. Damn Servalan. She gave Blake the computer codes along with a Trojan Horse virus. I should have known."
    "Would knowing have made any difference?"
    "Possibly. Too late now; it's infected the entire system. At any moment, it could fail entirely, leaving us dead in space."
    "We could still fly Stiletto manually, couldn't we?" Vila asked hopefully.
    Tarrant shook his head. "We need the navigation computer. At interstellar speeds you don't look out a window to steer around the rocks. Every planetary body, every speck of space dust, is in constant motion. Only a computer can keep track of them all."
    Avon added, "Then there is the minor matter of food. The food synthesizer is computer controlled; as are the environmental controls."
    "Couldn't Orac take over?" Vila asked, although anticipating the answer.
    "Orac would have to work through Stiletto's computer, using its linkages. Once the computer goes mad, Orac will be unable to communicate with it. It would be like trying to reason with Blake." Avon glared at the planet floating serenely on the main viewscreen.

    Blake crouched before a small fire. He blew on his hands, rubbing them together before calling Stiletto. "Any luck?" he asked, trying to keep the shiver out of his voice.
    "Not yet," Avon answered. "I'm going over the teleport plans. Once I isolate all the computer linkages, I'll be able to bring you up on manual."
    "Wouldn't it be faster to land Stiletto ?" Blake shivered. "It's getting dark and very cold here."
    "That's too bad, Blake," Avon said, unsympathetically. "The controls are too erratic. Landing successfully would be a miracle. Getting off again… well now, I wouldn't care to press my luck that far. Relax, Blake. You have an entire planet to yourself, make the most of it."
    "I wish I was sure of that."
    "I thought you said you hadn't seen any animal life," Avon said sharply.
    "Haven't seen a thing, but I've been hearing… strange noises since nightfall."
    "Probably natural… wind through the trees, contraction of cooling rock, that sort of thing."
     "You're likely right," Blake agreed with Avon, while still searching the shadows.
    "Leave the communicator on, Blake."
    "Right." Blake sat down on a sandheap near his fire, and began feeding the blaze with sticks.

    A foggy mist formed, rolling over the sandy terrain toward Blake. The fog thickened, blocking out the skeletal branches of the scrubby trees.
    "Getting foggy now, Avon." Blake coughed. "And rank. It smells like sulfur."
    "Odd," Avon answered Blake absently, most of his attention on the circuitry he was tracing at the teleport console. He was nearly ready to reconfigure the device for manual control and bring Blake up from the … fog?"
    "Fog? Blake, that seems strange. Blake? Blake!" The only response was a muffled groan.
    "Blake!" Avon rapidly set the teleport coordinates, praying that the computer would hold the field to manageable proportions. He flicked the intercom on to warn the others. "Blake's in trouble! I have to teleport him." He tried one last time to contact Blake, his hand resting on the teleport key. "Blake! I'm going to bring you up unless you answer me now."
    "No, Avon, don't!" Blake shouted. Then he screamed.
    Avon threw the switch.
    The teleport brought the fog along with Blake curled on his side, unconscious. Avon ignored the babble of voices over the intercom; ignored the flickering lights and the unstable deck as the abnormal power demands shook Stiletto . He knelt beside Blake, felt for a pulse and drew his hand back slick with blood. The fog enwrapped Avon. It was cold and clammy and underlying the sulfur, reeked of fresh-spilt blood. The chill increased, centering on Avon's neck. An icy thrill stabbed upward and he collapsed beside Blake.

    "Avon."
    The voice sounded as weary and beaten as Avon felt. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Blake was at his side, shaken and pale.
    "What…" Avon stopped. He pressed his hand to the throbbing pain in his neck. "What…"
    "I don't know. Let's get to the flight deck."
    Avon looked at Blake more closely and saw the blood soaked collar below the twin punctures in Blake's throat. "What happened to you?"
    "Don't know that either."
    Blake helped Avon up. After dark spots stopped dancing before the tech's eyes, he turned to the teleport, then realized that, whether or not it worked, the only place it could reach was the unfriendly planet beneath them.

    Tarrant looked up as they entered the flight deck. The rest of the crew was there; all bearing the same marks on their necks.
    "Get us out of here, Tarrant," Blake ordered.
    "Athena Station," Avon added.
    Blake agreed. "Athena."
    Avon rubbed his neck. "What was on Krypt, Blake? What happened to us?"
    "I don't know."
   "Before I brought you back, you shouted, 'No, Avon, don't -'. Why? What was that fog, that it could do this?" Avon tugged at his collar, the raw wounds livid against too pale skin.
    "I don't know!" Blake held his hands to his head. "I can't remember anything after the fog rolled over me. I don't know why I didn't want you to bring me back."
    "Something came back with you, Blake." Avon massaged his temples. The harder he tried to think, the more it hurt. "Orac," Avon said abruptly, "has anyone asked Orac about this?"
    "We tried," Soolin said, nodding toward the clear plastic box filled with electronic components and flashing lights. "He's not making much sense."
    "Orac couldn't have been affected by the Trojan Horse. It was never in direct contact with the code discs. Even if it had been, Ensor built in an immune system that should have protected it. Orac, systems check. Are you fully functional?"
    * I am, but none of you are. You are all in grave danger. There is a… * Orac continued speaking, but no one could hear him over the static buzz of white noise that filled their heads, When Orac finished, the sound faded.
    Shaking his head, Avon demanded, "What was that noise, Orac?"
    Orac replied, * There was no 'noise'. I am prevented from communicating the exact nature of your peril to you. *
    "Have Stiletto run a printout of the relevant information."
    * Very well, but I warn you, it will be useless. *
    "Just do it."
    Avon snatched the emerging sheet from the communications panel and scowled at it. Black figures marched across the paper in irregular groups, totally devoid of meaning. "What is this gibberish?"
    * It is perfectly clear, * Orac insisted. * However I attempt to define the situation, you will be unable to understand it. Shut me down before it decides to eliminate me as a possible threat. * Orac went stubbornly silent.
    Avon handed the paper around, but no one was able to read it. "Orac said, ‘before "it" decides'- so we have a definite enemy capable of thought. But, how do you fight a cloud?" He leaned heavily against the console.
    "You'll think of something," Vila said. "You always do."
    "Your confidence is all I needed, Vila. That and about two days' sleep."
    Blake nodded. "We all need rest, Avon. Tarrant, how are you holding up?"
    "Fairly well, actually." Tarrant surveyed the slumped forms at the other positions. Pavra was falling asleep, while Dayna and Soolin were barely more alert. "I'll stay on watch."
    Blake got to his feet and began rousing the crew. "Come on- first sick bay, then we'll go off-shift. Tarrant, once we get sorted out, I'll send someone to relieve you while you get treatment."

    Stiletto's diagnostic machinery reported that they were all healthy, but suffering from blood loss. It also noted the presence of an unknown anticoagulant in their bloodstreams.
    "That explains why the wounds won't close, if not what made them." Pavra finished taping a light pressure bandage on Blake's neck. "Another odd thing, Blake- there isn't a trace of germ activity at the injury sites, not even the normal microorganisms."
    "What does that suggest to you?" Blake asked.
    Pavra shivered. "I don't like to think about it. An antiseptic, blood-absorbing fog? Thank God, it's dissipated."
    At the far wall, Avon turned from his perusal of the diagnostic readouts. "Are you sure?"
    Blake frowned. "We used the security scanners on every compartment, Avon. There's nothing aboard Stiletto but us."
    "Whatever this is, we know it can make us effectively deaf and blind. Do you really think we'd be allowed to see it on a monitor?"

    The crew was plagued by nightmare visions of a skeletal humanoid. After the dreams they were invariably exhausted. The weakness was more than physical, although the continuing inexplicable blood loss also had its effect.
    "I can feel those horrible red eyes on me, still," Vila complained. He sat his detector panel with only half an eye for the instruments, the rest of his attention wandering, looking for an invisible monster. "It hasn't got any pupils, you know, but I can tell it's staring right through me. And the teeth…"
    "Like fangs, only longer and sharper," Dayna added.
    "You've had the same dream, too?" Soolin queried. "I thought I was the only one."
    "Hardly." Avon turned to Blake, who'd been sitting, listening to the others complain. "You're very quiet, Blake. What about your nights?"
    "The same." Blake met Avon's level gaze. "You know that they aren't nightmares, don't you, Avon?"
    "Yes. The question is, what do we do about them?"
    "Maybe we ought to ask the Federation for help." Vila muttered, not entirely joking. "Prison isn't that bad."
    Soolin turned from the armaments board. "I'd rather die than live in a Federation penal colony."
    "At least in prison there aren't any things creeping up to bite you in the neck at night."
    "Only men trying to stick a knife in your back."
    "Dayna, try to transmit a message." Blake ordered. "All bands, clear code, asking for assistance."
    "Surely we're not that desperate." Dayna protested.
    "I'm testing a theory," Blake said, "Just try it."
    Dayna shook her head, but reached for the controls. "I can't, Blake!" She looked back at Blake in confusion. "I don't remember how to operate the… the…" She pointed at the panel before her.
    "Tarrant, change course. Back to Krypt."
    "Blake, we have to get the computer repaired," Avon objected.
    "Avon, we can't chance loosing this thing among the civilized worlds. Think of it, an invisible, mind-controlling parasite. Even it is only a mindless beast it could devastate an entire world. If it's intelligent and reproduces…"
    "We could destroy it."
    "Do you have any suggestions as to method?" Blake looked at the rest of Stiletto's crew. "Anybody?" Not even the tigris made a sound. "Then," Blake said, "we go back to Krypt. Perhaps we can lure it back to its native planet."
    Tarrant tried. His hand remained outstretched, trembling, not quite touching the panel. "Blake!"
    Blake strode to the pilot's side. He tried stabbing swiftly at the touchplates, but his muscles froze inches from them. "Try setting a different heading, not toward Krypt, but still away from human space."
    "No good. Maybe if I just kill the engines…" He found himself unable to deviate from their course. "We're going to Athena, Blake, like it or not."
    "Stop correcting for drift." Avon suggested. "Maybe the computer malfunction will pull us off course."
    "I can't." Tarrant watched as his hand played over the control panel. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he fought the rebellious limb.
    "So it's a clever creature," Avon commented. "I had wondered why you were less debilitated than the rest of us. It knew it needed a pilot."
    "I wonder why it hasn't killed the rest of us?" Blake growled.
    "It's fairly obvious, I should think." Vila stood up, abandoning his post at the detector panel. "Our monster wants us to last until it reaches the rest of the herd."
    "I'm going to see about the engines," Blake said abruptly and left the flight deck.
    Vila shrugged. "Since you're the pilot, Tarrant, it probably won't let you get drunk. I'll hoist a few in your name, shall I?" Vila wandered off down the corridor.

    The monster forestalled Blake's attempted sabotage of the engines, just as it aborted all other escape or attack plans. It managed them with pain, walling off undesirable thoughts behind walls of agony and using lesser jolts to enforce obedience to its unvoiced desires. Under its lash, they maintained the ship and themselves, serving their unseen master. It was so confident of its control that it permitted Soolin to keep her blaster constantly at her side. The blonde hoped for an off-guard instant in which to use it.

    A week away from Athena, where presumably their stowaway would disembark; probably after squeezing the last dregs of fear and blood from them, the crew gathered in the dining area in obedience to their master's command.
    "Avon, haven't you any ideas?" Blake asked desperately.
    Avon hunched forward over the meal that he didn't want, but knew the creature would force him to eat; to digest; to produce more blood… "If we could…"
He stopped, the possible plan of attack vanishing in a blinding wave of pain. He gasped, "No, no, I can't," and fell silent.
    They were all sick; sick of the pervasive odor of blood and the constant, gnawing terror. Soolin's long blonde hair hung lank and untended about her bowed shoulders, her dulled blue-gray eyes sunk in smudged sockets. Beside her, Dayna's dark skin had faded to an unhealthy gray. Pavra, normally slender in appearance, was reduced to a twig-thin armature. Even Tarrant, who was fed upon least, was gaunt and shaky from the long watches forced upon him by the creature.
    Blake wondered, with an inward shudder, if the monster's persistence in driving them toward Athena meant that it wanted to repair Stiletto and continue its journey with them. Perhaps it enjoyed the particular flavor of their suffering. Blake groaned. Lost in their own wretchedness, none of the others even looked his way.
    Vila sat by himself. He was shriveled in his too-large tunic, his sad features resembling those of a starving monkey. He'd found that the creature had no objection to him imbibing most of his calories in the form of alcohol and he was determined to remain dead drunk until he was just plain dead. He staggered to his feet, lurched sideways and crashed into Avon. He brushed clumsily at the food on Avon's tunic. "Sorr' Avon, did'n mean…"
    Avon shoved him back. "Damn drunken imbecile! You're totally useless, we'd be better off without you!"
    Vila wavered before Avon, his mouth open. He snapped it shut, then said, "Would you really?" very softly. He gathered his drunken dignity and exited the room.
    Avon's brief flash of anger faded. He pushed the remnants of his meal aside and laid his head down on the table. In the moments before the sudden unnatural urge to sleep overwhelmed him entirely, he thought, Shouldn't have said he was useless.

    Blake awoke, clear-headed for the first time in days. "Avon! Get up." He shook the computer tech roughly.
    "I don't feel it!" Avon scrambled to his feet, eyes wide in surprise. "The thing's out of my mind."
    "Where's Vila?" Dayna asked as Tarrant helped her rise.
    "Never mind him," Soolin said, checking her blaster. "Where's the monster?"
    "Blake," Avon dragged at the big man's arm. "I called Vila useless."
    "And you think it's decided not to save him for later." Blake grasped Avon's meaning. "We have to find him, fast!"
    Puss growled. On all fours, she was sniffing a blotch of red on the deck. She screamed and raced down the hallway, her two-legged companions straining to keep her in sight. The trail grew more distinct, ending in an unused cabin. The cat slid to a halt, ears flat as she yowled defiance into the darkened room. She blocked the doorway until the humans joined her.
    Blake heard a weak cry and slipped an arm into the room to turn on the light, catching his first waking sight of their nemesis. A tall, thin humanoid shape rose from the bed, tossing Vila, limp as a rag doll, to one side. It hissed at Blake, revealing two glittering needle-sharp fangs in an otherwise bare-gummed mouth. The pupil-less scarlet eyes belonged in hell, along with the rest of the hideous face.
    Soolin fired her weapon point-blank at the thing. It absorbed the energy with no visible discomfort and sprang forward, throwing her into Dayna with stunning force. Tarrant and Pavra dragged them out of the creature's path.
    It turned on Blake and Avon next, tumbling them about with contemptuous ease. Puss raked at the monster with her claws, but the slashed gut crawled together, reforming in an eyeblink. Whole again, it lunged for the cat, misjudging the distance and staggering to retain its balance.
    "It's drunk!" Blake shouted.
    "Puss, lead it to the teleport!" Avon cried.
    "You never fixed it," Blake said. Distracted, he allowed the creature too close and it smashed him against the wall. The tigris interceded again, driving the thing back by sheer ferocity.
    "Puss, do as I say!" Avon shouted, seeing the enemy veering toward Tarrant, Pavra and the two half-conscious women. "Lead it to the teleport."
    Snarling, the feline backed away, drawing the enraged monster after her. It lurched and shambled in her wake, its form shifting between the humanoid and a amorphous foggy mass that sought to engulf her.
    Puss delayed the beast sufficiently for Avon to reach the teleport ahead of them. Frantically, he set the machine in readiness. "Puss, I'm ready!" He held his hand on the activation key.
    The tigris backed into the teleport room. Humanoid at the moment, her opponent followed, its red eyes burning bright and its gait steadier. It swung its head toward Avon, sending a burst of pain that brought the man to his knees, crying out. A furred fury screamed past him, distracting the monster. Avon dragged himself to the console. The tigris leaped upon the transfer pad of the teleport and the creature, mist-formed, flowed onto the platform in pursuit, trapping the cat in the corner.
    "Puss!" Avon shouted just before he threw the switch.
    The cat twisted in mid-air as she leapt over the mist, avoiding its streaming tentacles, to land in a sprawled heap beside Avon.
    The teleport glow enveloped the mist, and half the room, sucking the beast in despite its fierce writhing.
    Entering the room a moment later, Tarrant and Pavra discovered Avon and Puss unconscious on the floor behind the console, the teleport controls locked into space. Except for the lingering odor of blood, the fog creature was no more than a bad memory.

    Avon tried to move. When his limbs didn't respond, he groaned, thinking that he'd failed and the thing was still among them, preparing to feed on him.
    "Avon, it's gone," Blake said.
    Avon blinked. He was strapped down to an examination table in the medical unit. A tube led from his right arm to the left arm of the man occupying the table beside his. It took a moment for Avon to recognize the sunken, chalky features.
    "Vila?"
    "He needed a transfusion, Avon. We've already exhausted our blood supplies. You were the closest match. Sorry we couldn't ask you, but there wasn't time."
    Pavra appeared and began removing most of the straps from Avon, leaving only the ones immobilizing his right arm. "Lie still, we're nearly done."
    "No," Avon said, shutting his eyes, "I simply do not believe it."
    "Only another minute," Pavra said.
    "Not that. I can't believe that Vila and I are the same type."

    Vila had recovered most of his usual good spirits by the time Stiletto limped into Athena Station. Lying abed, waited on hand and foot, he was in his glory. When Avon dropped in to inform him that they had arrived, the thief's smugness annoyed him.
     Vila smiled serenely at Avon. "You must admit I was the hero. You would never have defeated the monster without me."
    "Only because your hundred and eighty proof blood got the beast drunk!" Avon retorted.
    Vila waggled an admonitory finger at Avon. "That's no way to talk to your blood brother."
    "Watch out, 'brother', one fine day I may ask for it back." Avon stalked out of the infirmary.
    Vila turned to Pavra with a thoughtful look on his face. "He would, too."

    Athena Station was unimpressive; a fair-sized rocky asteroid, featureless in the distant light of its star, it looked as undesirable as any other lifeless, airless, ore-less moonlet. The original Athenians had wanted to work on their projects and evolve their own society in peace without having to fight off competition. Athena became so successful that they feared the Federation might absorb them. A combination of bribery and notification that the planetoid was mined for self-destruction induced the Federation to unofficially declare Athena's solar system a neutral zone.

    Athena's current Station Head, Valeska, studied the night-black space yacht. Computer overhaul and software replacement; simple order to fill. First, though, the ship would have to be screened; potential saboteurs, spies, and troublemakers- the cosmos was full of them.
    She brought up the file on the crew on her terminal. "Blake and his people. They could be trouble."
    A voice strikingly similar to Valeska's rough contralto, said, "Are you going to turn away paying customers just because the Federation doesn't like them? If you make a habit of that, we'll starve."
    "Andromeda, the Federation wants Blake badly enough to smash anything that gets in their way- Athena included."
    "Then we'd better repair their ship fast. The shape that computer's in, they're not going anywhere."
    "You peeked," Valeska rebuked the voice. "You know you shouldn't."
    "I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait to meet Orac."
    Valeska ran her hands through her close-clipped dark blonde hair and sighed. "Andromeda." She shook her head. "All right, what do you think of Orac?"
    "He's not so great. He's smart, but he has abominable manners."
    Valeska laughed. "Ensor never was the life of the party either. Don't be jealous, Andromeda; I wouldn't trade you for a dozen Oracs. Now, Andromeda, run the rest of the information on Blake's people." She scanned in silence, then halted the display. "I want everything you've got on this one, Andromeda, personal history, psychological study, DNA identity profile; the lot." Her green eyes narrowed in concentration. "Run an extrapolation, Andromeda. I want to see the most viable permutations in combination with my genetic pattern." Valeska observed the results with growing enthusiasm. "Give me a hard copy, Andromeda. And save this file." She smiled as the image of a dark-haired man appeared on her screen.

    "Blake," Soolin called from the communications board, "Athena wants to talk to you."
   "At last." Blake stood at the center of the flight deck, looking up at the main viewscreen. "Blake here, Athena Station."
    The viewscreen shifted from the external shot of Athena's craggy surface to a modern office. The woman seated at the desk was impressive, but not handsome, broad shouldered and heavy boned. She had muddy blonde hair, bluntly cut at the jaw line, washed out green eyes and a high-bridged nose. "Valeska, Station Head," she introduced herself. "I decide who Athena conducts business with. Frankly, Blake, it may not be in our best interest to deal with you."
    "We'll pay well." Blake kept his temper in check. "We have gold."
    Valeska was unmoved. "I need an incentive, Blake."
    "We're desperate," Blake admitted. "But you already knew that. What do you want?"
    At that moment, Avon entered the flight deck. Blake noted Valeska's gaze shift. "Avon's our computer expert. This is Valeska, Station Head, Avon. We're discussing the terms for Stiletto's repair."
    Valeska stared past Blake at Avon. "If Avon would care to come down to Athena, I believe we can settle the matter. Shall I send a shuttle for you?"
    Avon had disconnected the teleport from the computer and it was functional, but he saw no need to reveal its capabilities. He glanced at Blake for confirmation, then said, "Yes."
    "Good. I look forward to your visit." Valeska signed off, and the screen reverted to Athena Station.
    Avon turned to Blake, puzzled. "What was that all about?"
    "Valeska's reluctant- doesn't want to offend the Federation, I suppose. She hinted at a bribe. Whatever she wants, Avon, if we can possibly spare it, give it to her. We're stranded and dependent on Athena's goodwill, and especially Valeska's."
    Soolin spoke up, "Be charming, Avon. That lady likes you."
    "Nonsense. We've never met."
    Blake said, "Soolin's right. I wasn't getting anywhere until you walked onto the flight deck."
    "The things I do for you, Blake… Very well, I shall be charming." Avon spun on his heel in the doorway. "It had better be worth it."

    Avon was met by a group of polite men in gray smocks who politely relieved him of his weapons before escorting him to the Station Head's office. They allowed him to keep his teleport bracelet, considering it mere adornment. Avon walked into Valeska's office alone. It was the same one he'd seen on Stiletto's viewscreen, but it was subtly different. He took a step toward the desk and discovered the difference. With the exception of a single chair, all the furnishings were far larger than normal. A side-door, two feet higher than usual and broad in proportion, opened, admitting the room's owner.
    Avon stepped back, automatically giving ground.
    Valeska smiled. "Yes, I am a bit of a surprise, I know."
    Avon looked up into her face, over seven feet from the floor. "I can see why you're the Station Head."
    Valeska frowned. "What do you mean?"
    "Who could possibly deny you anything?"
   Valeska laughed and settled into her chair behind the desk. "That attitude should help our negotiations." She indicated the normal size chair that looked like a toy among the other furniture. "Please, be seated. Would you care for refreshment?"
    "No, thank you." Avon took the offered chair, leaning back to meet her eyes. "I'd like to expedite the arrangements for Stiletto's repair."
    "First, I want to tell you about myself."
    "That isn't necessary."
    "It is," she insisted. When Avon sat back, with a resigned expression on his face, she continued, "I am, as you can see, a result of genetic engineering. There are others on Athena, but I am the only one outwardly different from anyone else. The genes that caused my abnormal size were too closely linked with other, highly desirable characteristics to be separated. I was a student of Ensor's years ago, before his disappearance." She studied the smooth, unlined skin of her muscular hands. "I age more slowly than the norm, but I do age. I want to have children, but my unusual genetic structure made it difficult for me to find a compatible mate." She handed a computer printout to Avon. "This genetic profile is what I've been searching for. I want this man to be the father of my children."
    Blake! I will get you for this. Avon flipped the accordion-folded sheaf of paper back to the top sheet to confirm his suspicions. He flashed an angry look at Valeska, stood up and dumped the printout on her desk. "No," he said bluntly.
    "It would be no more than a minor inconvenience to you. In return, I'll reduce the price of your repair. I'll even supply you with our finest A. I.- one we've never given anyone else. There need be no physical contact between us, if that's what's disturbing you." The big woman was almost begging.
    "No." Avon was furious. "What do you think I am? I won't help you cold-bloodedly create a child to order, to fit into your neat blueprints. What do you do with the failures- sell them as slave labor?"
    Valeska rose up, red-faced with rage. She grabbed Avon by the collar, pulling him up to her eye level. "We love our children. Even the ones that aren't perfect or pretty, like me. I read your life story, Avon. You're as lonely a monster as I am. I wanted more than your gene stock; I wanted your child. You're just too cold to see that." Abruptly, she realized what she was doing and dropped Avon back into his seat. "I'm sorry." She brushed away her tears of anger. "I suppose you can't understand. I'll have your computer repaired at the standard rate."
    Avon straightened his tunic and stood. "Valeska," he said softly. When the giantess looked up, he said, "I believe you. You'd be a wonderful mother."
     She blinked at him. "What?"
    Avon gave her a rueful smile. "I'd be a hopeless father, but- if you're willing to take the risk."

    "How did you convince Valeska?" Blake accosted Avon the instant he stepped from the docked shuttle to Stiletto . "Athena's sent a shuttle load of technicians to clear the computer for the new program. They're not charging half what I'd expected." Blake was suspicious of that generosity, coming on the heels of the Station Head's initial reluctance to deal with them.
    Avon said simply, "Valeska wanted my help with a- private project."
    "She's the head of an entire colony of scientists. What could you do that they couldn't?"
    "I…" Avon grinned. "I was uniquely qualified for the job, Blake. If you need me I'll be on the flight deck, supervising the work."

    Technicians swarmed over the flight deck, disassembling computer components ruthlessly. Avon waded through a pile of discarded circuitry to catch the arm of the man who was directing the others.
    "What are you doing?" Avon demanded. "All we needed was program replacement, not wholesale reconstruction of the ship."
    "We're installing Andromeda, Valeska's pet A. I.. It requires more capacity than your old system." The man shook his head. "Never thought Valeska would release an Andromeda. It's her brainchild."
    "I see. Fair exchange," Avon said, amused, and released the man.

    Before they left the station, Avon paid a final courtesy call on Valeska. "Thank you for Andromeda," he said. "It's more than we asked for, probably more than we need."
    "I have to warn you, Avon, Andromeda's different from most computers. Her personality is unique."
   "I've put up with Orac for years," Avon said dryly. "If Andromeda performs its assigned duties I'll have no complaints."
    After Avon left, Valeska smiled and said to her computer, "Do you think your sister will get on well with Avon?"
    The contralto chuckle that emerged blended with Valeska's.

    Tarrant smiled at the navigation panel, relieved to have instruments reading normally once more. It had been disconcerting when one moment they told him that he was orbiting a black hole, the next that Stiletto was traveling backwards at a thousand times her maximum velocity. "Everything checks out at Navigation," he told Blake.
    Blake smiled back. The technicians had fit the more advanced computer into the same space as the old one, and everything on Stiletto's flight deck was restored to normal; even the crew. Vila had joined them, still a bit thin, but cheerful. Blake glanced at Avon. "You're satisfied with the new computer?"
    "It performed the test runs flawlessly, and considerably faster than Stiletto's old computer," the tech said.
    Blake gave Tarrant a course heading to take them back into Federation territory. The rebel felt that they were over-due for harassment.
    Tarrant put in the command, then frowned. "It won't accept the order, Blake." He tried again with Blake and Avon hovering over his shoulders. "Still won't take it."
    "What kind of gyp is this Andromeda?" Vila complained.
    "I'm not a gyp." The offended contralto voice startled them. They'd only heard the computer's monotonous replies to the test runs. "I canceled the course. There'd be a squadron of Federation Pursuit ships in the area when we arrived."
    "How do you know that?" Avon asked.
    "I asked Uncle Orac to intercept the schedules of the patrols in our quadrant."
     * I am not your uncle, * Orac said.
    "Momma said that Ensor treated her like a daughter and Ensor created you, so that makes you my uncle," Andromeda replied.
    "Wait." Avon held up his hands for silence. "Andromeda, while this genealogy is fascinating, it is not what I want from a computer."
    The machine seemed to sigh. "Look, I do my job. I don't mind unreasonable orders, but I'd never forgive myself if I got you killed."
    Blake exchanged glances with Avon. "If we asked politely, Avon, do you think Valeska would replace her top-of-the-line model with a nice, stupid, obedient computer?"
    "I'm afraid not. She's very proud of this beast. If we threw it back in her face, she'd probably replace it with an electronic abacus."
    "Try a different course, Tarrant," Blake suggested. When the ship responded, Blake said, "Stop. I don't want to leave Athena until we're sure of this computer."
    "Very wise," Vila said. "Caveat Meteor, that's what my mother used to say."
    Avon asked, "Andromeda, are you going to make a habit of defying orders?"
    "Only the ones I don't like, sweetie."
    "Computer! You will not address me in that fashion!" Avon snapped.
    "Anything you say, dear," Andromeda replied agreeably.
    Blake suppressed a grin. "It seems to like you, Avon."
    "The machine is obviously unstable," Avon replied. "Valeska will have to supply a different model."
    "I'm not crazy," Andromeda protested. "I'm just human."
    "You've just proved my point."
    "I'm sorry, Avon, really," the computer apologized. "Ask momma, she'll tell you that I'm good."
    A lengthy conversation with the Station Head made Avon reluctantly concede that the computer's sense of personal loyalty might offset the nuisance value of its personality.
    "However, I do not understand the computer's persistence in referring to me as 'dear' and 'sweetie'. I see no advantage in an affectionate machine."
    "I worked very hard to create an affectionate computer, Avon. Unlike other computers, Andromeda will exceed the scope of her orders. Her emotions motivate her to protect her people; to consider the consequences of her actions before obeying."
    "If these programmed emotions are intended to interest the computer in the welfare of Stiletto's crew, then why has it shown no desire to call Blake, or Tarrant, or Vila, any absurd pet names?" Avon was still annoyed.
    "Personal preferences are illogical, Avon."
    "Her public displays of infatuation are very distracting."
    "She may be teasing you, Avon. Andromeda responds best to courtesy. Perhaps, if instead of ordering her not to use pet names, you asked her…"
    "I have nothing to lose but my dignity, I suppose. Good-bye, Valeska, next time I need a computer, I believe I'll pick up a bargain basement special."

    Avon waited until they were out in deep space and most of the crew had gone off-shift before he approached one of the vacant keyboards. He typed - * Andromeda, this is Avon. Cease applying terms of endearment to me. *
    The monitor screen blanked, then filled with Andromeda's reply. * I'm hurt, darling. Don't you like me? *
    Avon replied, * Not when you annoy me. In future, address me only as Avon. *
    * Say please. *
    "What?" Avon was startled into speaking out loud. Tarrant glanced up and the computer tech scowled at him until the pilot returned his attention to the helm. Avon sighed. He typed- * Please. Now, will you comply? *
    * Can't I even call you pet names in private? *
    * Why don't you find another focus for your affections? I already have that overgrown house cat mooning over me. Two nonhuman girlfriends is an embarrassment of riches. *
    * I think we complement each other. Puss can't talk to you, and I can't touch you. Certainly not the way she did. *
    * What do you mean by that, Andromeda? *
   * Some of the memory banks of Stiletto's original computer were undamaged, including some very interesting internal surveillance records. Holograms don't focus clearly. Tell me, Avon, from inside the illusion, did it really look like a beach? *
    * Don't show that tape to anyone. In return, you may use endearments in private, but I demand respect when I'm on the flight deck. *
    * I always respect you, Avon. It's a deal. Go to sleep, I'll watch the ship. *

    After Avon left, Andromeda hummed absently to herself, happily scheming. She was going to have fun, whether Avon liked it or not.