Bott’s hands dropped to the console. His fingers jammed down on the tabs he had figured out. Then they hit the ones he hadn’t. Even those that were still lit refused to change under pressure. After a moment’s hesitation, he jammed one thumb down across the Mess Call. Nothing happened.
“Ship!” he bellowed. “Ship! What is all this?”
The Drover did not reply. “Cogs!” he shouted, slamming both fists down on the console. The navigational screen went dark.
Nubry was at his side. “Dassie! Oh, Dassie, what’s wrong?”
When the computer’s voice replied, it held a tone Bott had not heard before. “Well, if you really want to know, it’s a security preprogram. At random intervals, a sequence of lights appears on the security monitor. If the captain doesn’t insert the proper card, I change to a preset course.”
Bott looked to the navigational console, but the blank screen was no help. “Where are we going, then?”
The ship took a moment before replying, “Lodeon VII.”
Nubry had to catch hold of the console. “The Circus Planet? Oh!”
“Of course,” Bott whispered.
On every planet in Free Imperial space, officials were diligent in providing plenty of entertainment in varieties congenial to local cultures. But the center of entertainment research for the Free Imperial State, where every form of amusement from Tic-Tac-Toe to Comic Evisceration awas studied and advanced, was Lodeon VII. Every ;pyal Imperial subject dreamed of at least one trip to the Circus Planet, even if it cost everything saved in a lifetime of Imperial servitude.
Disloyal subjects had nightmares about it. Games of Deathtag or Sarpy Stirrups used up a goodly quantity of prisoners every year. Some games used the prisoners up to the very bones, and then neglected to kill them.
Bott sank back in his chair. “Is there anything we can do, at this point?”
“Only three cards can override the program now,” the ship informed him. “The Emperor has one. My chief technician had another, but I don’t know where that is now. They say he had a nephew he was leaving everything to, but he never mentioned it to me.”
Bott licked his lips. “And the third one?”
“Oh, you have it.”
Bott hauled up his collection of cards again. “Which one is it? Where do I put it? Wait.” He folded the cards back into a compact deck again, and tapped this on the console. “You can’t tell me that, right?”
“I’m afraid not,” the Drover replied. “Security, you see.”
“Yeah,” Bott replied.
The prayerstone was on Nubry’s forehead again. “Isn’t there anything we could do?”
“There are seventy-nine slots on the main console,” the computer reported. “Several of them simply open hidden slots. You could start now and try every card in every slot and hope you get it right before we reach Lodeon VII.”
Nubry looked to Bott, who nodded. “And by your estimate, slave ship,” the pirate captain inquired, “Can we get through every single combination of card and slot before we reach the Circus Planet?”
“Oh, yes,” the ship told him. “Barely. That is, if the slot you require is one of those on the main console, and not on another console. Or hidden under a chair. Or in some other room. Or something.”
Bott looked around the bridge; he hadn’t thought he could hate its sleek elegance more than he already had. A hand gripped his shoulder.
“The Dragonshelf,” Nubry told him. “We can still escape if we can….”
“If you were thinking of ramming through my cargo doors,” the Drover injected, “Let me tell you something about them.”
“Don’t bother.” Bott slumped in his seat.
Now Nubry looked across the bridge. “It’s a big ship. We could probably hide for days.”
Bott nodded. “Until they asked the slave ship where we were.”
Her head went up to the big blank main screen. “Would you have to tell them, Dassie?”
“If they have the right card. They don’t even have to say ‘please’.”
The bridge was silent. The captain’s console was completely dark. Lights on the auxiliary consoles were blinking out.
“But look,” the Drover said. “Go down to the slave holds. You can pretend you were slaves who were brought aboard before the pirate took command. Life as a slave, if they believe you, would be better than what they have planned.”
“I don’t take favors from slave ships.” Bott’s tone was that of a captain.
“Don’t be so stiff-necked; you’re only a pirate! Nubry, you have some sense. Can’t you….”
The librarian folded her arms. “I won’t do it,” she said. “And you can’t stop me!”
The bridge was silent for a few more seconds. Bott’s chin dropped slowly to his chest. “The Rhododendron is coming right up alongside,” he said. “I can feel it. They probably knew all along we didn’t have a chance.
“We do have a chance!”
Bott looked to the librarian. She was still facing the dark main screen.
“Dassie, may we use the elevator?”
“Be my guest.”
She pulled on Bott’s shoulder. She did not tell him what she had in mind, but he was getting a idea by the time they reached the cargo bay. He was a little surprised to find the door opening for him when he inserted his card.
Nubry ran all the way to the Dragonshelf. “Do you see?” she demanded, turning at the open ramp into her ship. “They’ll know we’re here and they’ll need to bring in weapons to fight us. We can at least shoot at them. But if they open the doors to bring in weapons from outside, you can fly out!”
“You can,” said Bott, joining her.
“No, no,” she told him. “You’re a pirate. You probably have all kinds of experience flying out of traps like this!”
“But it’s your ship. You’ll know….”
She gave hi a little push. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”
Bott watched her move down a corridor to the main reading room. He shrugged once more and stepped up to the bridge. His mood was far from optimistic, but the sight of a fully functional command console cheered him a little. There would be something, at least, for him to do, whether it did any good or not. He checked the navigational screen. The Rhododendron was, indeed, very near.
“Ship?”
There was no answer. Remembering where he was, he reached for the communication card. “Ship,” he said to the card, “You seem to know a lot about what they’re going to do to us. What do they have planned for this rendezvous? When the Rhododendron reaches us?”
“What would you do, lummox?”
Bott didn’t need to think long. “Order you to flood the cargo bay with gas so the prisoners wouldn’t shoot at me with the Dragnshelf’s guns.”
“You’d’ve made a nice little Imperial guard, pirate. You really would.”
“Is anything happening?” Nubry came breathless onto the bridge, clutching a book to her chest.
“What’s that?” Bott asked.
“Bunny Bunk and the Purple Pillow.” She held up the book to show a brown animal next to a purple square on the cover.
”It’s the first book I ever read all by myself,” she said, settling into her seat. “It may be the last book I’ll ever see. What are you doing?”
“Setting an automatic course, with your permission, Captain. They may decide to gas the cargo bay, but if we’re already moving for the doors….”
Nubry pointed to a red dot on a monitor. “I think it’s too late.”
“Ship!” Bott sniffed the air.
“Sorry, lummox: part of the preprogram. I started before you left the bridge.”
It was too late even to ventilate the Dragonshelf and hope to get rid of the gas. Bott turned to Nubry. “Well, that’s that.”
Her eyes were turned down to the little square book. “Did anyone ever read you a bedtime story?” Something dripped from her face onto the book, but she dashed it away before it could leave a mark.
“So long, Drover,” Bott told the communication card. “It was quite the challenge, and fun while it lasted. So long.”
“Do you really think you’re getting away that easily? I’ll be seeing you, you bilstim pirate.”
The sentence was sharp, and the computer’s profanity was new to him. Before he could ask what either meant, he saw Nubry tip forward. He had time to put up one hand to brace her before his eyes closed as well.
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