Shockball by S. L. Viehl

not good enough,” I said. There were all kinds of things this drone could do to us that would not be considered harmful to any life-form, and would still incapacitate us.
    Reever nodded. “Nine-Six-One, state your program parameters.”
    “Caution. Fulfilling this directive will take approximately one hundred, twenty-seven minutes. Digest response is recommended.”
    “Please, pick the digest response,” I told Reever. I didn’t want to stand there listening to the damn thing for two hours.
    My husband addressed the drone again. “Delay digest response for one quarter stanhour. Escort us to the helm.”
    The drone made an abrupt about-face. “Please follow me.”
    The helm was in the very center of the vessel, behind a series of protective grids and multiple reinforced corridors.
    “Why all the security?” I asked Reever as the drone deactivated yet another bioelectrical grid.
    “Control of this vessel was very important to whoever designed it.”
    Control. As in who was in. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
    “Considering Hsktskt ship-to-ship technology, and the prospect of impending war with the Faction, it is likely a mandatory and standard design application for all new League vessels.”
    I wasn’t quite so analytical. “Joe probably has it set up so it can be controlled from a remote ship. That’s the only reason he’d allow that kind of safeguard—if he had a back door in.”
    “You are too suspicious.”
    I scoffed. “Spend a few years being chased by Joseph Grey Veil, then come talk to me about my paranoia.”
    The Command Center was compact and efficient, and acted as the brain for the entire vessel. Controls over all levels and systems were at our fingertips. Only the main computer was offline, waiting to be reinitialized.
    Reever sat down at the console, but before he touched the keypad, 1 grabbed his hand.
    I had the strongest urge to pull him away from the controls and run all the way back to the launch. “What if you reboot this thing and it decides to fly straight back to Terra?”
    “The Jorenians have already downloaded the entire mainframe computer core via the probe we sent in, and have extensively examined the data. There is nothing in it that presents a danger to us.”
    “What if they missed something?”
    He squeezed my hand. “Then I will be able to see where you grew up.”
    “Very funny.”
    Reever tapped out the required codes, and an image popped up on the vid screen. It was my creator, Joseph Grey Veil.
    “Hello, Cherijo.”
    “Damn, I knew it!” I slapped the console with my hand. “He can’t even give me a present without spoiling it.”
    Joe smiled. “As you know by now, my daughter, there is nothing that will harm you on this ship.”
    “You lie like a floor covering,” I told the image. “And don’t call me your daughter.”
    “It is prerecorded, Cherijo,” Reever said.
    “I don’t care. He still doesn’t get to call me his daughter.”
    Joseph continued. “The Truman is the latest and fastest of the new scout ships being designed and built on Terra. There are sufficient supplies and living areas to accommodate you and a maximum of two hundred additional crew members. I hope you and your friends will use it to attain the freedom you seek.”
    “He’s being too nice,” I said, stepping away from the console. “There’s definitely a bomb on this ship, or something.”
    He wasn’t done, either. “I have taken the liberty of entering a special signal relay program into the mainframe system.” The code appeared briefly below his image. “If you are ever in need of assistance, access the communications array, input this code and a direct relay will be sent to me here on Terra.”
    He still expected me to come running to him for help. After everything he’d done to me. The man’s ego knew no bounds. “When pigs fly.”
    “Good luck, my dear.” The image vanished.
    I wasn’t his dear anything. I turned away from the console, feeling