by Tim Pratt
“What’s the city like?”
“It’s ancient. Not made for human comfort. There are great coral towers, though, dating from the days when the Hylar had to hide from predators, before they mastered the seas, and because humans like having roofs, the off-worlder dormitories were in those towers. I counted as an off-worlder, though I’d spent my life in the Jol-Nar system. The halls were cramped, with corridors designed for creatures who don’t have bones. The locals never made much of an effort to provide for the comfort of other species. The idea was, we were lucky to be allowed to study at the greatest institution of higher learning in the galaxy, and if we didn’t like it, we were welcome to go elsewhere. The hell of it is, they were right – the Universities are unmatched, at least in the sciences, which are the only fields of study that actually matter. Oh, there are embassies and businesses with domes and such that hold atmosphere, but those are meant for dignitaries and tourists, not students.” Thales seemed to realize he’d been talking for a while, because he scowled. “None of that matters. You aren’t going to Nar, anyway. You’re going to Jol. A world of frigid seas, with a few islands no one would want to live on. The city you’re going to is Wun-Escha, and it is admittedly more welcoming for off-worlders, since it’s the seat of government, where the Hylar leader the Headmaster lives, and they get so many diplomatic and trade delegations from elsewhere. There’s a whole section of the city with an atmosphere hospitable to humans and several other species of airbreathers. You won’t even get a momentary sense of what my life down there was like.”
No one can possibly understand my suffering – the cry of every aggrieved adolescent, even Felix himself, once upon a time... But like most people, he’d grown out of it. “Why doesn’t Woryela work in the other city, if that’s where the schools are?”
“Plenty of scientists work for the experimental propulsion lab, captain. I did myself, once upon a time. But it’s not an academic setting in the way you’re thinking – it’s better to think of it more as a military installation than the sort of training academies or scholastic institutions you’re familiar with.”
“I was a lot happier about stealing something from a university than a military base, Thales.”
“I’m sure you were. I’ve given you everything you need, though. More than you need. Woryela’s office is near the labs, and there are only a few places the power source could be. Once you’re with him in the office and you deploy my surprise, you’ll have all the time you need for your slippery friend to search for the power source.”
Felix nodded. Thales had come up with a good idea, he had to admit. Woryela was one of the Hylar who could breathe air for weeks at a time, and he was meeting them in his office, where the atmosphere was conducive to their biology as well – visiting researchers came there from all over, after all. The mysterious alien artifact now had a small reservoir inside, and when Woryela handled it, it would disperse a sedative and dissociative gas designed to work on the Hylar – he’d pass out, and wake up an hour later with no memory, or at best a confused one, and by then, Felix and Tib would be long gone.
Felix had found the idea of using gas absurd – “Won’t we be underwater?” But Thales had called him an idiot and said Woryela would doubtless meet them in a room with air: “He won’t risk examining a potentially delicate alien artifact in a submerged zone. Water can be too damaging. Woryela is the sort of Hylar who can breathe the same air you do, too, so he won’t be in a tank or anything – those are cumbersome and avoided when possible. I have thought this through.”
Felix had other concerns, though. “Are you sure the gas won’t affect us?”
“Did you steal a Hylar’s nervous system at some point?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
“Then you’ll be fine. The gas may not smell very nice, but it won’t hurt you.”
“OK. How do I look?” Felix was wearing adventurer garb: black tactical pants and a vest covered in pouches, his head topped by a battered broad-brimmed hat he thought looked rather dashing.
“Like an idiot, but like the kind of idiot you should look like.”
“Good enough.”
•••
Director Woryela sent a shuttle to pick them up, and Tib and Felix sat together, strapped into their respective seats, as they plummeted bouncily through the atmosphere. Felix hadn’t felt planetary gravity in a while, and it was more intense than the artificial kind. His lower back ached. When had that happened? That seemed like something that should happen to people older than he was.
Felix felt the splash when they hit the water, and heard a hum as the engines kicked in. From orbit to the bottom of the sea. Quite a journey. “It’s exciting, visiting the Hylar homeworld. One of the great cities of the galaxy, down there below us somewhere.”
“If you say so,” Tib muttered. “Who am I to disagree? I’m just a humble loyal retainer.” She wore a version of Felix’s outfit, with a rucksack strapped to her chest. The bag contained the fake artifact and the other thing Thales had made for them.
“I haven’t even asked you to polish the silverware or pour me some tea. You’re getting off easy. Honestly, I think of our staff like family, don’t you know. Let’s take a look at the view. Shuttle, let’s have some windows, please.”
Rectangles all around them went transparent, or rather, created a convincing illusion of transparency; they were screens connected to external cameras. Felix had expected to see schools of brightly colored fish, vast coral structures, or maybe a kelp forest; instead there was just dim, murky water, and as they descended, their surroundings became indistinguishable from darkest night. “Oh,” he said. “No light down here.”
“Space is brighter than this,” Tib said. “Ugh.”
“Shuttle, what’s underneath us?”
This time the whole interior of the shuttle went transparent, like they were in a glass bowl. Darkness surrounded them. “Wow. Shouldn’t we have some kind of safety gear? Life vests or air tanks or something?”
“At this depth, if we got out of this shuttle, our lungs wouldn’t be able to expand against the crushing pressure, and we’d promptly die, so no, there’s not much point in safety gear.”
“You are very bad for morale, Tib.”
“We loyal retainers do what we can.”
After a while, lights glimmered beneath them, dim and far away, like distant stars. “That must be Wun-Escha.”
“Or else the bioluminescent bulbs of deep-sea predators trying to lure prey into their nightmare maws.”
“Or that,” Felix said.
The lights gradually brightened, revealing domed structures and organic coral towers, and soon they passed other vehicles, smooth and streamlined and aerodynamic – or, Felix wondered, was it aquadynamic? Their shuttle zipped along, and Felix was surprised at how fast it moved, now that he could gauge their progress by the city whipping past beneath them. They sailed between two towers, and through windows (he hoped very thick ones), Felix could see off-worlders, living and working in their pockets of air so far below the world above. How strange it would be, to live in a place like this… but then, was it any stranger than living in space, like he did? Space and the sea were both vast and inhospitable and rather chilly environments that would kill you if you didn’t have the right equipment. At least down here there weren’t micrometeoroid impacts or radiation. Though in space there weren’t toothy underwater predators, and you might suffocate, but you wouldn’t drown. There were always trade-offs.
The shuttle docked at a sprawling but low facility, a series of cylinders and domes hugging the seafloor. “I thought the lab would be bigger,” Felix said.
“I think it’s mostly underground.”
“Oh, good. I was thinking we weren’t far enough down yet. We’d better get suited up.” They fastened on their helmets and checked their air supplies.
The doors hissed open, revealing a – well, not
an airlock. A water-lock? Some system to equalize the pressure with the submerged areas beyond, anyway. They stepped into the cylindrical chamber, and once the ship was closed behind them, water slowly filled the space. The heaters in their environment suits clicked on to compensate.
Once the lock was filled with water, the outer door opened, revealing a clean white room. A Hylar, slightly smaller than Tib, waited for them, floating in the faintly green-tinged water and holding a glowing tablet in one thin pseudopod. Felix had gotten so used to Shelma in her exo-suit that it was strange to see a Hylar unencumbered. “Mx Angriff?” she said on their open comms channel. “And Mx Ell. Let me help you.” She offered them each mobility packs that strapped onto their suits, and showed them how to use the controls to adjust their buoyancy and propel themselves forward and back with jets of water. Felix spun himself around in a circle at first, but got the idea fairly quickly. She attached visitor passes, little round badges in bright orange, to their chests with some adhesive. “Keep these visible at all times. They’ll allow you to leave the facility once the meeting is over.”
“You won’t be escorting us out?” Felix said.
“It’s a busy day,” she called. “Don’t worry, the badges will only open the doors necessary to lead you back to the shuttle, which is programmed to return you to your ship after you board. The badges also track your location, of course, so there’s no danger of you getting lost in here.”
Felix glanced at Tib, who shrugged infinitesimally. They had restricted access and this was a place full of security doors, but they’d expected that. Tib would figure out a way to work around the problem. Felix hoped.
“Come along. The director carved out an hour for you, and that hour has already started.” The Hylar approached a round door, which opened to reveal a textured tunnel with walls of white coral. Branching corridors appeared at irregular intervals, some open, others sealed with formidable-looking metal doors. There were no windows, and Felix was grateful he didn’t have claustrophobia, as the tunnels were made for Hylar physiology, and fairly tight for someone his size.
They reached a security checkpoint with a guard – a Hylar bristling with needle-like extensions that must have been weapons – and floated through into a sea cave lit by bioluminescent orbs stuck to the walls. Their guide turned and left them without a word, and a Hylar at the center of the room glanced up at them and said, “Wait.” She was operating three terminals at once with six pseudopods.
Why does no one ever offer me refreshments? Felix wasn’t sure how that would work underwater, but still, it would have been a nice gesture. And I thought we were already late for our very brief appointment?
After a few moments, the receptionist paused in her work, in response to no stimulus that Felix could detect, and said, “Director Woryela is waiting for you. Go on up.”
“Up?”
Tib nudged Felix and pointed up. The ceiling was a shimmering circle. They adjusted their buoyancy and rose, breaking through the top of the pool into air. They clambered out into a sort of conference room, though one where the floor was dotted with other pools, presumably giving access to other parts of the facility.
A Hylar perched on a stool behind a long table, wearing a sort of headband that held a complex array of lenses on adjustable arms. “Welcome! You can take off your helmets. The air in here can sustain you.”
Felix removed his helmet and set it on the table, sniffing cautiously at the briny but breathable atmosphere. “Thank you, ah, Director Woryela?”
“Indeed! And you are Heuvelt Angriff and Dob Ell!” His artificial voice was booming and hearty. “Back from the depths of space with bountiful mystery! How I envy you, dauntlessly exploring the vast unknown!”
Felix had expected a calm and measured academic, or a humorless bureaucrat, but Woryela was positively jolly, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.
The Hylar could tell. “Not what you were expecting, eh?” he said. “I always get that – too much energy, too much verve, for someone in a position like mine. But I got here because I’m good at my job, not because I’m good at playing politics. What was my job, do you know?” That look must be Hylar for “expectant.”
“Ah, propulsion?” Felix said.
“That’s right, Heuvelt, may I call you Heuvelt? I always get mixed up on human honorifics. I come from propulsion! Before I moved into the technical side, I was a test pilot. I used to spend more time in the void than I did in the ocean, strapping untested technology to a seat and launching myself as far and fast as I could. Experimental propulsion is the most exciting discipline we’ve got, as far as I’m concerned – anything that can propel a starship faster than any other starship has ever gone before also has a good chance of exploding or turning your body inside out. There’s no substitute for that kind of thrill. That’s half of why I met with you, and cleared a whole hour – the artifact is interesting, of course, and if it does half what you say, we’ll pay well for it – but it’s really for the chance to spend time with other people who understand. That’s a real treat. The people who work for me, they’re good at what they do, the best in the galaxy, but I never get to talk to the rocket jockeys any more. That life never get old, does it? I miss those days.”
“We, ah, appreciate you having us,” Felix said. “It’s true, there’s nothing like feeling the hum of a starship accelerating as you blast into the uncharted. That’s what Dob and I live for.” A sudden impulse seized him. “I heard rumors you were working on harnessing wormhole technology here, though – that would make most forms of propulsion pretty redundant, wouldn’t it?”
The Hylar shook his head. “Wormhole tech, perpetual motion machines, mind uploading and digital immortality – there are always rumors that we’re about to achieve those, but we’re not. All that stuff is impossible, and, I for one, am glad, because overcoming engineering challenges is a lot more fun than waving a magic wand and poof, every difficulty is overcome.”
“They say the Creuss can open wormholes, though,” Tib said.
“They say the Creuss can kill you in your dreams, too. They say the Creuss can turn into mist, and if you breathe that mist they can possess your body and use you like a puppet. They say lots of things.” He swiveled on his stool. “I won’t say making wormholes is impossible. Once upon a time, there were Hylar in these seas who didn’t even know there was a surface, let alone anything beyond – the ocean was their whole universe. They didn’t know we had a sister planet, or that there was such a thing as outer space, or a whole community of intelligent alien species. Now, there are Hylar all over the galaxy. But I will say, I think we’re as far from having wormhole technology right now as those ancient Hylar were from building their first starship. We’ve had a couple of researchers over the years who thought they’d cracked the wormhole problem, but they never convinced me, and they don’t seem to have accomplished much without me. In the meantime, I’m happy enough with what we can do. But maybe you brought me something impossible today! Shall we take a look?”
Chapter 21
Felix nodded to Tib, who opened the airtight carrying case she wore across her chest, removed their “artifact,” and placed it in on the table.
The Hylar picked up the crystal assemblage with delicate pseudopods, and some of the lenses on his face rearranged themselves. “Interesting. These crystals could be part of the original specification, but they’re more likely caused by chemical leakage, or the side effect of some process gone wrong. This glow looks like… huh. It appears to be a simple luminescent gloss, of the sort that fades over time. This paint isn’t nearly as old as the rest of this object appears to be – in fact, I recognize it as a variety produced here on Hylar. People paint it on their windows during the Festival of Luminous Depths.” He looked up at them, his eyes magnified by the lenses. “Gentlepersons, I hope you haven’t wasted my time with some amateurish attempt at a hoax–”
The device abruptly cracked
open, breaking into two unequal halves, and a tightly rolled piece of paper slipped out. “What’s this? A message from the ancient aliens, written conveniently in a language I can read? Really, Heuvelt and Dob, this is disappointing.” He unrolled the paper and stared at it, lenses telescoping.
Felix looked at Tib. What the hell was going on?
“‘Courtesy of Phillip Caruthers,’” Woryela read. “What, that man who published those absurd papers about a theory of everything? What is the meaning of this –”
Gas began to hiss from the sundered device, and Felix instinctively held his breath. Thales had claimed the artifact wouldn’t hurt them, but he also hadn’t mentioned his plan to include a personal note for the director. Felix waited for Woryela to slump over and pass out, but instead the Hylar gasped and writhed, limbs spasming wildly, knocking the artifact off the table. Woryela fell off the stool and looked up at them, lenses askew, eyes somehow pleading. He tried to crawl to the door, then shuddered all over again, and slumped.
Tib knelt and looked the Hylar over. “He’s not unconscious, Felix. He’s dead.”
Of course he was. Felix clutched his helmet. “Thales. He used us, and we – Tib, we just assassinated a high-ranking official! We committed murder!”
“We were used as murder weapons, anyway.” Tib scooped up the artifact and put it away in the case. “Wrestle with the implications later, captain. We need to finish the mission and get out of here.”
Of course. Bad as this was, getting caught wouldn’t make it any better. Felix found the note from Thales and shoved it in a pouch on his suit. No reason to leave any evidence behind.
“You stay here,” Tib said. “I’ll go look for the power cell. We’ve come this far.” She opened the bag and removed a small spherical device, half matte black, half crystal. It was, Thales claimed, a perfect replica of the power source they were stealing – not functional, of course, but with a mess of fused wire inside that might fool the engineers into thinking the device had merely malfunctioned, at least for a while. The original plan was, Tib would take the real cell and replace it with the fake one, and when Woryela woke up in a confused daze, no one would even know a robbery had taken place.