Jack Chalker - Priam's Lens

“Seems to me he’d be better off going in or sending in his own team,” Harker commented. “That way he’d have this all to himself.”

“Well, yes, except that he’s already done just that. At least, so he says. Two separate groups, in fact. Neither was ever heard from again. He decided then that only a professional team tailored for the job would have a crack at doing it.”

Harker nodded. “And now I suppose I’m a part of this team?”

“I believe you were always supposed to be. Knowing Commander Park, it would not surprise me if your very presence here is part of some convoluted plot to deal himself in by proxy. Well, it doesn’t matter now. You are either in at this point or you will have a very boring time here and perhaps get an opportunity to test yourself against the Dutchman. I’m sure that this has occurred to you. There is simply no way that every competent fighter is going down there, leaving you aboard with a mathematician, a physicist, a mummified opera singer, a middle-aged pot-bellied old yacht captain, and an emaciated half machine like me.”

He gave her a wry grin she couldn’t see. “I suspect you’re a lot more formidable than you make yourself out to be. I know your reputation, and I suspect that you are already interfaced with just about every system on this ship. What chance would somebody like me have?”

“The comment is both flattering and partially correct, but only partially. You would have an excellent chance in that combat suit and you know it. I can tell that it is state of the art, and well beyond the ability of even someone like me to compromise. I have no doubt that if anything happened to you the suit is perfectly capable of taking us on completely by itself. No, sir, I don’t think so. And I don’t think the colonel could do much about it, either. That really leaves things up to you, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can stop the colonel from dispatching you to whatever form of Valhalla you think you’ll go to, because I am confident enough of the programming in that suit to want to protect myself. I think the old lady fancies you, too. But you’re going to have to decide whether to sit here with us and keep the old lady endlessly entertained for maybe months, or go with them. Your choice.”

He sighed and considered the idea. He had no desire to go down there, even in a full combat suit, let alone in nothing but his birthday suit. But considering the alternative, it was true: he had an unpalatable choice to make.

The whole thing had been so anticlimactic after that buildup that he couldn’t get himself psyched to do much of anything. Riding the keel was not something that had been fun; the nightmares were, well, bizarre and had terrified him, he knew, even though he couldn’t quite remember any of them, and he was still feeling a lot of deep bruises. Still, to come all the way through that only to be picked off and invited inside—well, it was at the very least embarrassing. Krill was right, though; the Dutchman could hardly have counted on any belief or cooperation from the Navy, and they could hardly have invited a Navy combat expert aboard and expected to actually get one without strings. Now—now they had him.

He went to see Doctor Katarina Socolov. She seemed rather happy to see him but not all that surprised. “I almost hoped you’d find a way to come,” she told him. “I admit that going down with just those two Neanderthals wasn’t my idea of a good time.”

“You only know me from one dinner, and that was arranged under false pretenses,” he noted. “I could just as easily be another N’Gana or Mogutu. Not that they are exactly storm troopers, either. They’re old-time fighting men who, for one reason or another, stepped on some toes and were forced to retire. In fact, N’Gana had a damned good record overall, and his great crime was that he would not commit large numbers of troopers to a suicidal position. Even though he was right, as was proven when he was replaced on the spot and the order given by his subordinate, he’d disobeyed a direct order. They let him quit and he was happy to go. I looked over his whole file and record.”

“And yet he immediately went into business doing the same thing.”

Harker shrugged. “He’s a professional soldier and he doesn’t really know any other life. I think he has a pathological fear of dying in bed of old age. Still, he’s good at his job and single-minded about his missions. If you don’t mind my saying so, from the outset I’ve thought that the possible weak link in this isn’t either of the military men.”

“You mean me.”

He nodded slowly. “It’s nothing personal, or even professional. N’Gana’s not going to rape you, nothing like that. But it’s going to be pretty damned primitive and very rough down there. Rougher, I think, than any of us imagine. We’ve never had to live completely without our machines. N’Gana can physically break logs in two and he’s a hell of a wrestler; Mogutu’s got black belts in fighting disciplines I never even heard of, let alone can pronounce. Still, neither of them has ever had to go it absolutely alone. No communications, no weaponry, no computer links, not even a hot bath. And they’re in better shape than you are, although you appear to be in decent condition. I know what it’s like to be pushed past the point of exhaustion when it’s life or death. So do they. You may think you do, but you don’t. I didn’t until I had to do it.”

“I’ll have to make it. You can’t scare me any more than I’m already scared, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t go.”

“There’s one more thing. You’re the only woman and the only person on the squad without military training. There is going to be a tendency for the others to be protective or solicitous of you even though they will try not to be. I’ve seen it before. If you get into real trouble, somebody’s gonna have to stop what they are doing and try and save you.”

“There are women combat soldiers. I’ve seen some of them.”

“That’s different. Suited up, there’s no real difference. Even not suited up, there’s the same training background and mindset.”

“Well, I may be the only woman but I’m not the only civilian going down. There are four of us—unless you feel like coming along.”

“Who’s the other?”

“The priest, Father Chicanis. He was born and raised on the continent of Eden before the Fall. He would have been there when it fell but he was at some religious conference. I think he’s always felt guilty he wasn’t there. He’s our native guide, so to speak. He can find the old landmarks and get us where we need to go, considering we won’t have any computer or navigational aids.”

Harker hadn’t thought of this. “Now I like it even less. A priest who wants to be a martyr. Just great. He’ll also want to minister to everybody who might kill him. The world he remembers is a century dead. The world down there now is like nothing he’s ever known.”

“He’s a tough guy, at least that’s the impression I get, and for a priest he’s pretty grounded in realism. At least, I don’t think he’s about to get us killed for his religion. I think he’d die for it, but he wouldn’t take any of us with him. I also always had the idea that, with him, this was personal. There’s something in his past, somewhere, that he’s kept inside but it’s what drives him beyond just his faith. I don’t know what it is. I think Madame Sotoropolis does, but I’m not sure.”

“We’ve all got things like that driving us,” he told her. “I swore I’d never get myself in a combat situation again. I know what it’s like when it goes bad. I’m not sure I didn’t use up any lives left in me that last time, too.”