(T)
.99
STP.
J.101M.024K.039
J.090M.036K.021
.80
LNG.
Selvan (var Sp)
Eng (LI.98)
.99
PPRF.
AG.95H.46L.05–
AG.83H.79L—
PT.88LA.68LY.90–
PT.72LA.78LY.68–
AN.32SH.11D.89
AN.41SH.75D.88
.82
O VERALL 0.86
PO S CALE : 0.99
T IME S URG : 3d, 4hr
T IME PO: 24d, 12hr
And there were over a hundred pages-after that. It was the only thing to read in the crowded cabin of the tiny T–46, and in the four weeks it took to get to Selva, Otto/Guajana read it over completely sixty-three times.
Most of it detailed Otto’s mission. From past experience, he knew that ninety-nine per cent of the planning would be worthless after the first day or two. And as far as the reams of data about the man he was impersonating… normally that would also be useless; if he ever had to consciously
act
like the man, it would mean his PO was fading and he would soon have to fight or run for his life.
But most personality overlays are done in hypnotic rapport between the agent and the person he is going to impersonate. In this case that had been impossible; Guajana couldn’t be kidnapped for a month and have his copy remain of any use. So they had examined and profiled Guajana as well as possible, and Otto was a very good academic copy of the man. He lacked the important artificial memories that would have been overlaid in hypnotic rapport—but then he could make a good case for having been beaten into amnesia.
So Otto memorized all of the information about Guajana, just in case, which was not too pleasant: Guajana was about the most villainous person Otto had ever impersonated. Cold-blooded murderer of children, for hire. Well, maybe he had a good side. Kind to snakes or something.
It was a cloudy, absolutely starless night when Otto landed on Selva in a small clearing in the mountainous jungle that surrounded Cerros Verdes. His timing was very bad.
The T–46 is about as automated as a spaceship can be. It locks in on a landing signal—generated in this case by Otto’s TBII liaison—and casts about for the nearest thirty-meter stretch of level ground on which to land. But the signal in this case was being generated from the top of a steep hill in the middle of a rain forest so up-and-down that it would drive a cartographer insane.
The ship glided to a stop and Otto pulled from a pocket of his rags a simple signal-detector/rangefinder that told him he was 12.8 kilometers south-southeast of where he wanted to be. A small error in a 145-light-year journey, but Otto/Ramos was understandably upset.
As noted, the T–46 is very automatic: automatic to a fault. Its function is to land an agent safely and get away—its door opens and the agent has sixty seconds to clear out or be automatically ejected. Otto was upset because the hundred-page report had stressed that only rabid sportsmen and other mad-men dared venture into Selvan jungles at night.
Otto got out and felt the ship depart silently behind his back. Laser ready, with his left hand he adjusted his nightglasses and tightened the shoulder straps of his kit. He looked around and saw nothing but then felt a crawly sensation center on his back and whirled.
At neck level and ten meters away a batlike creature with a three-meter wingspan and an excessive number of claws and teeth was sliding rapidly through the air with a bloodthirsty grin on what served it for a face. It seemed to weigh about as much as a human child, and it screamed like a child when the laser opened it up in mid-flight. It tumbled suddenly graceless over Otto’s head to crash in the tall grass behind him, where it thrashed twice. There was a second’s stillness and then a slithering sound and then the crunch of strong jaws crushing bone.
In the flare of the laser, Otto had seen a hundred pairs of hungry eyes. There was no way to whistle the ship back.
It may be better in some absolute sense to accept a known danger, however great, than to forge off into the unknown. Otto knew that the woods probably held a
.99
STP.
J.101M.024K.039
J.090M.036K.021
.80
LNG.
Selvan (var Sp)
Eng (LI.98)
.99
PPRF.
AG.95H.46L.05–
AG.83H.79L—
PT.88LA.68LY.90–
PT.72LA.78LY.68–
AN.32SH.11D.89
AN.41SH.75D.88
.82
O VERALL 0.86
PO S CALE : 0.99
T IME S URG : 3d, 4hr
T IME PO: 24d, 12hr
And there were over a hundred pages-after that. It was the only thing to read in the crowded cabin of the tiny T–46, and in the four weeks it took to get to Selva, Otto/Guajana read it over completely sixty-three times.
Most of it detailed Otto’s mission. From past experience, he knew that ninety-nine per cent of the planning would be worthless after the first day or two. And as far as the reams of data about the man he was impersonating… normally that would also be useless; if he ever had to consciously
act
like the man, it would mean his PO was fading and he would soon have to fight or run for his life.
But most personality overlays are done in hypnotic rapport between the agent and the person he is going to impersonate. In this case that had been impossible; Guajana couldn’t be kidnapped for a month and have his copy remain of any use. So they had examined and profiled Guajana as well as possible, and Otto was a very good academic copy of the man. He lacked the important artificial memories that would have been overlaid in hypnotic rapport—but then he could make a good case for having been beaten into amnesia.
So Otto memorized all of the information about Guajana, just in case, which was not too pleasant: Guajana was about the most villainous person Otto had ever impersonated. Cold-blooded murderer of children, for hire. Well, maybe he had a good side. Kind to snakes or something.
It was a cloudy, absolutely starless night when Otto landed on Selva in a small clearing in the mountainous jungle that surrounded Cerros Verdes. His timing was very bad.
The T–46 is about as automated as a spaceship can be. It locks in on a landing signal—generated in this case by Otto’s TBII liaison—and casts about for the nearest thirty-meter stretch of level ground on which to land. But the signal in this case was being generated from the top of a steep hill in the middle of a rain forest so up-and-down that it would drive a cartographer insane.
The ship glided to a stop and Otto pulled from a pocket of his rags a simple signal-detector/rangefinder that told him he was 12.8 kilometers south-southeast of where he wanted to be. A small error in a 145-light-year journey, but Otto/Ramos was understandably upset.
As noted, the T–46 is very automatic: automatic to a fault. Its function is to land an agent safely and get away—its door opens and the agent has sixty seconds to clear out or be automatically ejected. Otto was upset because the hundred-page report had stressed that only rabid sportsmen and other mad-men dared venture into Selvan jungles at night.
Otto got out and felt the ship depart silently behind his back. Laser ready, with his left hand he adjusted his nightglasses and tightened the shoulder straps of his kit. He looked around and saw nothing but then felt a crawly sensation center on his back and whirled.
At neck level and ten meters away a batlike creature with a three-meter wingspan and an excessive number of claws and teeth was sliding rapidly through the air with a bloodthirsty grin on what served it for a face. It seemed to weigh about as much as a human child, and it screamed like a child when the laser opened it up in mid-flight. It tumbled suddenly graceless over Otto’s head to crash in the tall grass behind him, where it thrashed twice. There was a second’s stillness and then a slithering sound and then the crunch of strong jaws crushing bone.
In the flare of the laser, Otto had seen a hundred pairs of hungry eyes. There was no way to whistle the ship back.
It may be better in some absolute sense to accept a known danger, however great, than to forge off into the unknown. Otto knew that the woods probably held a
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