Fatal Error - Keith R. A. DeCandido [12]
“Thank you.”
“And who are the others? I am registering five lifeforms.”
Indicating the Bynar—though having no idea if Ganitriul could see the gesture—Sonya said, “This is 110, who is part of my engineering team. The others are Lieutenant Commander Domenica Corsi and two of her security team, Stephen Drew and Vance Hawkins.”
“I welcome all of you. I apologize for the darkness, but I cannot seem to get the lights working.”
“That’s all right.” She consulted her tricorder, which glowed quite brightly in the near-darkness. It showed that the main terminal was only a few meters away. “If you don’t mind, we’ll go to your main terminal and try to determine what’s wrong.” She started walking in the right direction, 110 right on her heels, the security detail right behind them.
“I hope you can, Commander Gomez. I am afraid that my own attempts to diagnose the problem have failed. I do not understand why I have been unable to function properly. I should also warn you that there are several security devices that are meant to prevent anyone from tampering with the system. My control over them is sporadic. Please be careful.”
The voice was almost pleading. Or maybe Sonya was projecting. Either way, she resolved to watch her step, and was suddenly grateful that Corsi had taken a team of three.
Corsi said, “Ganitriul, which security protocols don’t you have control over right now?”
“I am afraid it varies. Are you familiar with my security specifications?”
“Yes.”
“At the moment, I have complete control over everything in the immediate vicinity. If that changes—or if you move into an area that I do not have control over—I will inform you.”
“Thank you.”
Within moments, they turned a corner, and the walls were replaced by what appeared to be a giant, smooth slab of black marble. Corsi, Drew, and Hawkins also shone their wristlamps on it, giving Sonya a better view. The slab, she suspected, was a large viewscreen. In front of it, she could see a very comfortable-looking chair, which was also distressingly close to the ground. Various buttons dotted the wide arms of the chair.
“All right, I give up—what is it?” Corsi asked.
“The main terminal,” Sonya said. She pointed at the slab. “That’s the viewscreen. The operator sits in the chair, and operates it with those buttons.”
Hawkins looked dubiously at the chair. “They sit in that?”
“The Eerlikka are fairly short,” Sonya said, “with small legs for their height, generally, so this is the right size for them. And the viewscreen can afford to be this large—they have wide eyes and a breadth of vision much greater than we do.”
As if on cue, the viewscreen lit up with several images. Some were views of parts of a city being subjected to bad weather—Sonya assumed it was a city on Eerlik. Others showed bits of data in a language Sonya recognized as Makaro, the most common language on Eerlik—she couldn’t read a word of it, of course, but she had seen similar writing in the mission profile. In addition, a small hole that looked like some kind of dataport opened in the smooth surface. Sonya could detect no seams. It was as if the hole just appeared, though that could have just been a function of the dim light.
“I must warn you not to sit in the chair,” said Ganitriul suddenly. “The chair is designed to allow only those whose DNA patterns match those of the presently ordained clergy to sit in it. I have been unable to disable that function.”
“That’s bad, isn’t it?” Drew said.
“There is an alternative. 110, you are a member of the Bynar race, are you not?”
“Yes, I am,” 110 said.
“In that case, you may interface directly with my dataport.”
110 hesitated. “Very well.” He moved toward the dataport.
As he did so, Corsi, who had been gazing at her tricorder, cried, “Wait!”
“What is it, Lieutenant Commander?”
“I’m reading a ton of electricity flowing through that port.”
“That is normal,” Ganitriul said.
“I really don’t think that 110 can handle it.”
“Bynar epidermis is able to conduct electrical charges, Lieutenant Commander,” 110 said.
“Not this much.