On the top deck of The Bearscout, four bears stared glumly out the window. "Let's go over this one more time," Rollo began. "I've got a headache," Django growled. "I want my fox back," snarled Grandma. Skylark merely sighed. Rollo continued on anyway. "We know that The Boar's Tusk successfully attacked and disabled the pirate ship, The Skeleton's Smile, last Tuesday on the outskirts of the Sarras system. As far as we know, the Red Fox was on The Skeleton's Smile at that time. All of the pirates, and presumably the Red Fox, escaped in the quick-eject lifeboats. Chances are, they're still somewhere in the Sarras system.  "I supposed you think I ought to call back that loan officer about mortgaging The Bearscout," Django grumbled. "I didn't say that," Rollo answered. "There are 16 major planets and over three hundred inhabitable asteroids in this system," said Grandma. "They could be anywhere." Skylark had stood up and was now staring out the window, but no one was paying any attention to him. "The way I see it," Rollo went on, "Is that we should just stay in this system, and sooner or later the pirates will come to us offering to ransom the Red Fox." Django yawned. "I should be hibernating. I'm not good when I first wake up. I..." He stopped and turned towards Skylark, who was making deep growling sorts of noises as he looked out the window through a pair of binoculars. "What's your problem?" "A bottle. There's a bottle floating out there. "So what? They've got litter here. Do you want me to file an environmental impact report?" "It's got paper inside." Django grabbed the binoculars from Skylark to look for himself. "What do you know? It does!" "Nobody puts messages in bottles anymore," Rollo murmured. "They'd send out a distress call." Grandma's eyes narrowed. "I know someone who might. Let's take a look." It took nearly an hour for Skylark to get on his spacesuit, get outside the ship with his fishing net, and snag the bottle and bring it in.  "I thought so," Grandma said triumphantly when they rolled out the paper and examined it." "You thought what?" Django demanded. "It's the Cyber-Wolf. Read it!" May 36 I am writing this log down on paper since the computers are performing so poorly. It is now nearly 18 hours since The Skeleton's Smile was attacked and boarded by the pigs of The Boar's Tusk. Fortunately, most of my crew and I have escaped in the quick-eject lifeboats. The prisoner Rudin Smoke was captured by his porcine companions, but that couldn't be helped. More troubling is the loss of Scrimshaw, Ajax, and our new cook, the Red Fox. Scrimshaw is a talented officer, Ajax is invaluable, albeit insufferably conceited, and the Red Fox cooks the best food I have ever tasted in my life. Eating his rigatoni the other night almost made me forget that I am now partially cybernetic. The other five lifeboats converged at the rendezvous point 12 hours ago, as planned. However, the sixth lifeboat, which computer records indicated was launched, and which apparently contained the wolf, the parrot, and the fox, never arrived. We remained at the rendezvous point for over an hour, debating what to do, when fortune smiled on us in a different way. The Epsilon Imperial Navy cruiser Peacekeeper came upon us and opened its gun ports, no doubt having been told to look for the lifeboats by the pigs of The Boar's Tusk. However, Slivertooth got on the radio and managed to convince the Peacekeeper that we were the survivors of a crashed Chantillan luxury cruiser. They took us on board, expecting to find a bunch of distressed hares. It's always the same with these navy types. They're fine as long as they have the latest high-tech weaponry in their hands, fully loaded and ready to go. But place them in an unexpected situation which calls for initiative and quick thinking, and they're hopeless. We captured the Peacekeeper within an hour, without a single casualty on our side, albeit with some scorched fur. We put the good crew of the Peacekeeper in the lifeboats and were off. We now have a heavily armed cruiser as our ship. It is my intention to head to the planet Outremer, where I believe the missing lifeboat with Scrimshaw, Ajax, and the Red Fox was headed.  "Okay, that tells us what we need to know," said Django, putting down the paper. "Let's set course for Outremer." "Not so fast," Grandma answered. "I want to hear what happened to the Cyber-Wolf, and how we came to find his log, on paper in a bottle in space. Read the rest of it." Django grumbled something inaudible but took up the log and continued. May 37 The situation with the computers is deteriorating, but more of that later. The Peacekeeper is a marvelous ship in most ways. One problem though is the lack of instructional manuals. Apparently the crew didn't know how to read, since there are videotape instructions everywhere, and on-line help menus, which are of course totally useless, but no written instructions. This would not be a problem if we were sitting in port at the expense of the Epsilon taxpayers, taking our time and watching videos. However, we are trying to get to Outremer as soon as possible, all the while expecting an attack from The Boar's Tusk, and trying to learn the new systems as we go. It is very tiresome having to fast forward and rewind a videotape trying to find the answer to a question as simple as what button to push or what icon to click on. Ilfing stated that I shouldn't complain about stolen property and then quoted some of his usual non-rhyming rubbish at me. There are days when I contemplate shoving him out an airlock, but he's got more wits than the rest of the crew (which isn't saying much) and hence is interesting to talk to. The computer systems were working fairly well in the morning, with only a few glitches here and there, such as my personal recorder not working, (and hence the need for this written log.) I put down the other problems to the crew's unfamiliarity with this ship. The trouble began in earnest when we received the radio burst from the Council of Merchants. There was no discernible message, just a random burst of radio waves. However, the Council of Merchants' computer identification code was clearly audible both at the beginning and end of the message. No one could figure out what it might mean, so I figured it was just one more instance of porcine mean-spiritedness. However, a few minutes later, Black Muspell called me over to his computer console. There on the screen, was the computer generated image of a pig. "Greetings," it said. "I am Alpha Porcus." I've seen some strange sights over the years, from the carnivorous seaweed on Alamo 7 to the ghost of Gaius Marcus Cephalus. There was something about this pig that sent the same short of shiver down my back. Rather, it would have sent the same sort of shiver down my back if I had a proper spinal system, instead of all of these cybernetic relays. "Where are you calling from?" I asked. "Your computer memory," the pig answered, a smug, simpering expression on its face. Black Muspell reached over and turned off the screen. "I think we've got a computer virus," he said. The screen popped back on. "I resent the term 'virus' said the pig. "I prefer to think of myself as a non-corporeal electromagnetic wave phenomena." "You're a virtual pig," hissed Black Muspell. "Virtual! virtual! virtual!"  "I find your tone and insinuations highly offensive," the pig replied. "Good day gentlemen." The screen went blank at the same instant that Malithion Jack called out from his console that the weapons systems had all just gone dead. "The pig did it," Black Muspell spat out contemptuously. "I trust you can fix the problem?" I asked. "Fix the problem!" he replied. "Even if I had every software and hardware resource imaginable, it might take me days or weeks to track this down." I know that we were in serious trouble as soon as I heard his words, but it doesn't do for a captain to share his doubts with a crewman. "You will solve this virtual pig problem and you will solve it within the next twelve hours," I said to him. "Or else I am going to push you out of the airlock. It's you or the pig. One of you dies in twelve hours. Do I make myself clear?" Black Muspell nodded and I left the control room. Normally I don't push my crew quite so hard, but he's worked in a corporate environment and he's used to it. I've seen how the Council of Merchants operate. If you're not worried about employee mortality rates, the hard-line management style really does produce results. May 38th It's been a day of frustrations and growing worries. The twelve hours came and went, and of course Black Muspell hadn't solved the problem. I told him that I wouldn't throw him out the airlock, but that in consideration of his past service, I would merely dock his pay for every hour that the pig virus remains a problem. I think that this pained him more than the threat of death, but I'm convinced that he's working on the problem to the best of his ability. We've steered the ship in the direction of an asteroid belt since we are less likely to be found there. Alpha Porcus, as he calls himself, has appeared on various computer screens throughout the ship, making various taunting remarks to the crew. Some bright wag replied that he loved virtual pigs and that Black Muspell is the only one aboard who hates computer viruses. The joke has spread among the crew and now they all answer the pig in that fashion. Black Muspell is beside himself with anger. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had a complete nervous breakdown and killed some of the crew. If this happens, I don't think I'll stop him. The crew's humor gets on my nerves sometimes too. May 39 We are now heading toward a supposed 'graveyard of ships' on the other side of the asteroid belt in the hope that we can find another ship and abandon this one. The crew is near mutiny as various systems give out throughout the ship. Black Muspell is doing his best, but I'm afraid the problem is bigger than his best efforts. As best as I can reconstruct, one of the Peacekeeper crew must have triggered some sort of emergency computer virus code when we captured the ship. This caused our initial computer problems. However, the Peacekeeper crew must have been rescued from the lifeboats at some point, since I think that they, or their superiors in the Epsilon Imperial Navy initiated the computer code through the Council of Merchants which caused the virtual pig virus. I've read of this sort of thing before though I've never come across it. The idea is that once your ship is captured, you want to be able to get it back without having to get in a firefight with it and possibly damaging it or getting yourself killed. What better way than a computer virus? This is a problem which I'm going to have to study carefully if I want to continue in this line of work. However, I may not live that long, in which case the question becomes academic. A second virtual pig has started appearing on the various computer consoles throughout the ship. Alpha Porcus has been taunting, but with a certain malevolent dignity. Beta Porcus as he calls himself, is another matter altogether. I won't repeat his tasteless, often scatological attempts at wit, but I will note that while they are all directed against the person of the captain, they would be offensive to anyone. Black Muspell finally cracked when Slivertooth told him that Ajax the parrot would have solved the virus problem. I had originally thought to let Black Muspell kill him, but as close as the crew is to mutiny, I didn't think it would be good for morale. I don't think we can last much longer like this. May 40th This is the last log entry. Life support systems began failing late last night. We decided to abandon ships in the Peacekeeper's lifeboats, but the systems controlling them failed to work properly. It is now my intention to put the crew and myself into suspended animation tubes. The systems controlling these tubes appear to be functioning normally and Black Muspell tells me that even if the virtual pigs virus should affect them, they will still work properly for many weeks before entropy begins to affect the suspended animation lock. As my last act before entering suspended animation, I intend to place this log in a bottle and set it into space outside of the ship. I ask anyone who comes across this record of our travails to do whatever is in your power for my crew and me. Many people have prejudices against independent economic operators, commonly referred to among the vulgar as 'pirates,' yet I can assure you that these are almost entirely due to media misrepresentations. Should you aid in our rescue, I can promise the contents of a blocked "Silver Plus" account on Orangewood Satellite One. And as a final note, I swear vengeance against the twisted soul who designed these noxious virtual pigs. Alpha Porcus and Beta Porcus are offensive in the extreme, but Gamma Porcus is the worst of the lot. His racist taunts against wolves are not only politically incorrect, but are also grotesque twistings of the historical records of Lobos Prime. Death to all computer pigs and their creators. "I could almost feel sorry for him," Django said, putting down the paper. "But he stole my fox. Let's set course for Outremer." "Not just yet," said Grandma. "Fascinating story," murmured Rollo. "I hate... virtual... things," was Skylark's response. "Look at that blip on the screen," said Grandma, just as Django was about to complain. "What is it?" he asked. "It's the Epsilon Imperial Navy cruiser Peacekeeper," she replied. "Great," he retorted. "A battle cruiser, disabled by computer pigs and full of frozen wolves, drifting in space. Should we throw a party?  "Get on your spacesuit, Rollo." said Grandma. "We're going for a spacewalk." "Grandma!" Django shouted. "What do you think you're doing?" "Before we go to Outremer to rescue the Red Fox, Rollo and I are going to pay a visit to the Cyber-Wolf's current ship and give him some computer disks which might help him out of his current predicament. Don't worry. I'm taking my gun. And it will take him hours to get his ship up and running, so you don't have to worry about him attacking The Bearscout. We'll be long gone before he's able to do anything." "No. I forbid it." Django stood up, arms folded. "Django," Grandma sighed. "You've always been stubborn, ever since you were a newborn cub. I used to think it was because your mom spoiled you, but now I realize that it's just bad family genes. Now get out of the way. I've got work to do." There was no arguing with Grandma. Django tried of course, but to no avail. Grandma and Rollo flew out of side of The Bearscout forty minutes later, with Django still shouting in the airlock behind them. "Always has been stubborn," Grandma murmured to Rollo, well aware that Django could hear her over the radio channel. He started shouting again, something about bears who were too old to know which end was up. Grandma smiled, turned off the radio on her space helmet, and sailed serenely toward the other ship. Rollo wasn't sure if Grandma just had really good software for breaking through the computer seal on the airlock and getting into the Peacekeeper, or if she was just a born lock breaker. In any event, they were into the Peacekeeper and found the suspended animation tubes within a few short minutes. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Rollo asked her as she pushed the button for the release sequence on the Cyber-Wolf's suspended animation tube.  "No," she smiled. The tube, looking like a large cylindrical freezer with a see-through door, swung open. The Cyber-Wolf tentatively opened his one eye. "Lavinia?" he asked, looking at Grandma. "William T. Lupus," she answered him. "Yes, it's me. Bit of a difficult situation you've gotten yourself into here, isn't it." "You must have read my log." "Yes. My grandson wanted to leave you here to rot, since you stole our fox. but I'm a sentimental sort, especially when I realized it was you. Though you've aged a bit since the last time I saw you." The Cyber-Wolf gestured to the machine portion of his head. "Half of my brain was shot away during a gun battle. The doctors got a bit carried away trying to save me, and well, here I am, a Cyber-Wolf." "It has a certain style to it," Grandma admitted. "It has its advantages," said the wolf. I was never particularly strong in maths before. Now I can calculate space-time trajectories to the eleventh digit. And I can balance my checkbook now. Not that I need that, with Abercrombie doing my taxes." Rollo's eyes had been getting rounder and rounder throughout the interchange. "I hadn't realized that you two were old acquaintances," he burst out at last. "Is this your grandson?," the Cyber-Wolf asked Grandma, looking at Rollo. "No. He's much more sensible than my grandson, so I brought him along instead. My grandson still wants to kill you for stealing our chef." "I should have known that you'd be involved with any ship named Bearscout. And is Rupert still alive?" "He knows your husband too?" Rollo hissed. "Rupert has slowed down a little bit, but not much," Grandma continued on, unperturbed. He's a judge now, you know, and didn't have quite the time to get away on this particular expedition. It's the first time I've ever vacationed away from him." "I'll always be thankful for the time he saved my life on the Marzaban ocean," the Cyber-Wolf said. "I still laugh when I think how he killed that squid with just the tree branch and the ant poison." Grandma laughed. "Yes, Rupert has always been pretty clever in a tight spot." The Cyber-Wolf had stepped out of the suspended animation tube and had been massaging his arms and legs as they had talked. "Well, this has been charming, but if you'll just help me get some of my crew out of these tubes, I sure would appreciate it." Grandma pulled out her gun and aimed it point blank at the Cyber-Wolf's head. "No William. I'm as sentimental and nostalgic as the next old bear, but I'm not going to endanger The Bearscout. I've got this gun pointed at the remaining half of your brain, and there aren't any doctors nearby to stitch it together this time." The Cyber-Wolf smiled. "You know the doctors assure me that even when the rest of me dies or is killed, the cybernetic parts will keep on functioning. It raises all sorts of interesting theological questions. Of course, the warranty is void if I let an unauthorized dealer make any adjustments. But we don't need to worry about that today. We'll do it your way." "I always thought you were a reasonable wolf," Grandma smiled. The gun remained pointed at the Cyber-Wolf's head. "And just what did you have in mind?" the Cyber-Wolf asked, his smile straining somewhat. "Since you've read my log, you know I've got some computer problems at the moment. Serious problems." "I've got something for you here," Grandma said, holding up a clear plastic bag full of computer disks. "Those look like old fashioned chrystal disks." "They are. You can shut down the Peacekeeper's entire computer system, but use these to run the individual systems." "Very clever. It will take us hours to get things up and running again. You and your Bearscout can be long gone." "You always did see straight through to the heart of the matter. Besides, it sounds like your computer expert, Black Muspell, needs something like this." "Yes, I think he might have some self esteem problems after this business with the pigs. But he can work on getting the individual system running, while I can work on shutting down the ship's central computer system, gigabyte by gigabyte. I'm going to get those pigs." "You are aware," said Rollo, "of the so-called 'virtual rights movement' which seeks legislation introducing full legal rights for all self-aware computer based phenomena?" They Cyber-Wolf looked at Rollo and Grandma with a certain injured dignity. "Blow my head off if you must. I won't touch The Bearscout. But I'm going to get those pigs if it's the last thing I do." Grandma handed the bag of computer disks to the Cyber-Wolf. "Be my guest. I'm with you, and a friend of ours named Skylark. I hate virtual things. We're off to the airlock now. Please don't try anything which we'll all regret. It's been wonderful seeing you again William." "Give my regards to Rupert. And I suppose you know since you've read m log, but I think your friend the Red Fox might be on the planet Outremer." "Thank you William. All the best. And I won't even ask you about that Silver Plus account." "That's just as well since there is no such account. I made that up." An hour later, The Bearscout was on its way away from the stranded Peacekeeper and towards the planet Outremer. On board, Rollo told Django and Skylark about Grandma's exchange with the Cyber-Wolf. "I know that you and Grandpa acted as mercenaries," said Django. "But I didn't know that you were pirates." "Independent economic operators is the term they prefer, you know. But no, we weren't really pirates. Your grandfather merely gave some free legal advice now and then to Mr. Lupus and some others." "But what's this about Grandpa killing a squid on Marzaban?" "It was a giant squid. Very impressive. Yes, sometimes free legal advice includes all sorts of interesting things." "That doesn't explain anything!" Grandma smiled. "No, it doesn't, does it?" An hour after that, repairs were still being made to the individual computer systems on the Peacekeeper. "So this Lavinia was really an old acquaintance?" Ilfing asked the Cyber-Wolf. 'She and her husband moved in some of the same social circles as I did," the Cyber-Wolf replied cryptically, puffing on his cigar. "As soon as Black Muspell gets the navigation and propulsion systems running, I want to set course for Outremer." "It shouldn't be long," Ilfing replied. "Apparently Lavinia left some operations manuals to go with the disks. Black Muspell is getting things going fairly fast." "Good. Now you'll excuse me. I'm going to get a screwdriver and some hydrochloric acid, and I'm going down to the ship's central computer core where I'm going to take apart the hard drive system piece by piece. Alpha, Beta, and Gamma Porcus are in for a surprise." |