Бертрам Чандлер - Contraband From Otherspace

And there was nothing abnormal in the hydroponics tanks. There were just the standard plants that are nurtured in ships' farms throughout the Galaxy—tomatoes and cucumbers, potatoes and carrots, the Centaurian umbrella vine, Vegan moss-fern.

It was the tissue culture vats that held the shocking secret.

The flesh that they contained, the meat that was the protein supply for the tailed beings who should have manned the ship, was human flesh.

"I was right," said Sonya to Grimes. "I was right. Those people—whoever, wherever (and whenever?) they are—are our enemies. But where are they? And when?"

"From… from Outside… ?" wondered the Commodore.

"Don’t be a bloody fool, John. Do you think that a race could wander in from the next galaxy but three, reduce a whole planet of humans to slavery, and worse than slavery, without our knowing about it? And why should such a race, if there were one, have to borrow or steal our shipbuilding techniques, our language even? Damn it all, it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even begin to make sense."

"That’s what we’ve all been saying ever since this blasted derelict first appeared."

"And it’s true." She got up from her chair and began to pace up and down Grimes' office. "Meanwhile, my dear, we’ve been left holding the baby. You’ve been asked to stay on in your various capacities until the mystery has been solved, and my resignation from the Intelligence Branch of the Survey Service has been rescinded. I’ve been empowered by the Federation Government to co-opt such Confederacy personnel to assist me in my investigations as I see fit. (That means you—for a start.) Forgive me for thinking out loud. It helps sometimes. Why don’t you try it?"

"All we know," said Grimes slowly, "is that we’ve been left holding the baby."

"All we know," she countered, "is that we’re supposed to carry the can back."

"But why shouldn’t we?" he demanded suddenly. "Not necessarily this can, but one of our own."

She stopped her restless motion, turned to stare at him. She said coldly, "I thought that you had made a study of archaic slang expressions. Apparently I was wrong."

"Not at all, Sonya. I know what to carry the can back means. I know, too, that the word can is still used to refer to more and bigger things than containers of beer or preserved foods. Such as…"

"Such as ships," she admitted.

"Such as ships. All right. How do we carry the can, or a can back? Back to where the can came from?"

"But where? Or when?"

"That’s what we have to find out."

She said, "I think it will have to be the can. That is if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking: that this Destroyer or Freedom or whatever you care to call her drifted in from one of the alternative universes. She’ll have that built-in urge, yes, urge. She’ll have that built-in urge to return to her own continuum."

"So you accept the alternative universe theory?"

"It seems to fit the facts. After all, out here on the Rim, the transition from one universe to another has been made more than once."

"As we should know."

"If only we knew how the derelict did drift in…"

"Did she drift in?" asked Grimes softly. And then, in spoken answer to his wife’s unspoken query, "I think that she was blown in."

"Yes… yes. Could be. A nuclear explosion in close, very close proximity to the ship. The very fabric of the continuum strained and warped…" She smiled, but it was a grim smile. "That could be it."

"And that could be the way to carry the can back."

"I don’t want to be burned, my dear. And, oddly enough, I shouldn’t like to see you burned."

"There’s no need for anybody to be burned. Have you ever heard of lead shielding?"

"Of course. But the weight! Even if we shielded only a small compartment, the reaction drive’d be working flat out to get us off the ground, and we’d have damn all reaction mass to spare for any maneuvers. And the rest of the ship, as we found when we boarded the derelict, would be so hot as to be uninhabitable for months."

He gestured towards the wide window to the squat tower that was Faraway Quest . "I seem to remember, Sonya, that you shipped with me on our Wild Ghost Chase. Even though you were aboard as an officer of the Federation’s Naval Intelligence you should remember how the Quest was fitted. That sphere of anti-matter—now back in safe orbit—that gave us anti-gravity… We can incorporate it into Freedom’s structure as it was incorporated into Quest’s. With it functioning, we can afford to shield the entire ship and still enjoy almost negative mass."

"So you think we should take Freedom , or Destroyer , and not Faraway Quest ?"

"I do. Assuming that we’re able to blow her back into the continuum she came from, she’ll be a more convincing Trojan horse than one of our own ships."

"Cans," she said. "Trojan horses. Can you think of any more metaphors?" She smiled again, and her expression was not quite so grim. "But I see what you mean. Our friends with the squeaky voices and the long, thin tails will think that their own lost ship has somehow wandered back to them, still manned by the escaped slaves." Her face hardened. "I almost feel sorry for them."

"Almost," he agreed.

The boffins were reluctant to release Freedom, but Grimes was insistent, explaining that disguise of Faraway Quest , no matter how good, might well be not good enough. A small, inconspicuous but betraying feature of her outward appearance could lead to her immediate destruction. "Then what about the crew, Commodore?" asked one of the scientists. "Surely those tailed beings will soon realize that the ship is not manned by the original rebels."

"Not necessarily," Grimes told the man. "In fact, I think it’s quite unlikely. Even among human beings all members of a different race tend to look alike. And when it comes to members of two entirely different species…"

"I’m reasonably expert," added Sonya, "but even I find it hard until I’ve had time to observe carefully the beings with whom I’m dealing."

"But there’s so much that we could learn from the ship!" protested the scientist.

"Mr. Wales," Grimes said to the Rim Runners' Superintending Engineer, "how much do you think there is to be learned from the derelict?"

"Not a damn thing, Commodore. But if we disguise one of our own ships, and succeed in blowing her into whatever cosmic alternative universe she came from, there’s far too much that could be learned from us . As far as shipbuilding is concerned, we’re practically a century ahead."

"Good enough. Well, gentlemen?"

"I suggest, Commodore, that we bring your Freedom’s armament up to scratch," said Admiral Hennessey, but the way that he said it made it more of an order than a suggestion.

Grimes turned to face the Admiral, the Flag Officer Commanding the Naval Force of the Confederacy. Bleak stare clashed with bleak stare, almost audibly. As an officer of the Reserve, Grimes considered himself a better spaceman than his superior, and was inclined to resent the intrusion of the Regular Navy into what he was already regarding as his own show.

He replied firmly, "No, sir. That could well give the game away."

He was hurt when Sonya took the Admiral’s side—but, after all, she was regular Navy herself, although Federation and not Confederacy. She said, "But what about the lead sheathing, John? What about the sphere of anti-matter?"

Grimes was not beaten. "Mr. Wales has already made a valid point. He thinks that it would be imprudent to make the aliens a present of a century’s progress in astronautical engineering. It would be equally imprudent to make them a present of a century’s progress in weaponry."