The Spheres of Heaven

by Charles Sheffield

  Chan said, "In other words, if we're attacked we're supposed to lie down and die?"

  "Exactly." The General winked, so quickly it might have been no more than an accidental blink of one blue eye. "Now I'm just going to talk a little at the pair of you. Dalton, you've probably been wondering why an old fogy like me, long past retirement, was put in charge of such an important expedition. Oh, don't bother to deny it, I've seen the look on your face. Ancient, asleep half the time, doesn't know what's going on. Isn't that about it? And maybe you're right, and I'm past it. But I do know one or two things.

  "One of them I learned a long time ago, at Capella's Drift. It's as true now as it was then: a military genius who's a lightyear away from the action is likely to make worse mistakes than the average joe or jill on the spot. Just to make it quite clear what I'm getting at, we're going to be on the spot when we get to the Geyser Swirl. Not the Pipe-Rillas. Not the Tinkers. Not those damned brainy cabbages that people call the Angels. Us.

  "But don't let me get carried away on the subject of aliens, because there's one other thing I have to say that's even more important to me than cussing out the members of the Stellar Group. It's this: I hate to lose people. If there's any way on earth or heaven that it can be avoided, the members of my crew aren't going to die, no matter what alien garbage has to get killed along the way to prevent it.

  "No Stellar Group members are going to be in the Geyser Swirl to keep an eye on what we get up to there. If anything is ever discovered, by some method I can't imagine, I propose to assume full personal responsibility for violence. I don't give a damn what aliens—or humans—do to me. You know what they say about old soldiers. Well, if I have to I won't fade away. I'd rather go down in flames and in disgrace than see our people killed."

  Korin stood up. "Right. I've said my bit, and I don't propose to repeat it. We're going, and we're coming back, as many as possible, and damn all aliens. Now let's get the show on the road and prepare this rustbucket for Link transit."

  Elke stood up, but Chan did not move. The General glared at him. "Didn't you hear me?"

  "Yes, sir, I did." Chan wondered about Korin's short-term memory. "I thought we were going to discuss my problem."

  "Your problem?"

  Hadn't the General understood anything of what Chan had said earlier? "Yes. You know. The problem with Deb Bisson."

  "Didn't she tell you that she would arrive on board before the deadline?"

  "Yes. She may be here already."

  "Then you don't have a problem. You tell her the arrangement with the rest of your team members went just the way that you planned it. When we have left Earth orbit and are on our way to the Link entry point, you can tell her the truth. By then it will be too late for her to leave." Korin saw the look on Chan's face, and smiled. "Come on, man. I thought you said she hated your guts?"

  "Not just my guts. All of me."

  "So she finds out you didn't exactly tell her the truth." Korin ushered them toward the door. "So what? She's on the way to the Swirl. Do you think Deb Bisson can hate you any more than she already does?"

  The door closed, leaving the general inside and Chan and Elke Siry once more in the corridor. She seemed in no hurry to leave. She lounged against the wall, in the same pose as when Chan and Dag Korin had arrived, and stared at him speculatively. She said, "Why does this woman, Deb Bisson, hate you?"

  An odd question, from someone billed as the project scientist. But they were all going to be working together on a dangerous mission, and the more they understood each other, the better. Chan, for the second time in as many hours, summarized the deal that he had made with Deb when he was on Europa. If she would come along, he had guaranteed the whole rest of the team.

  When he was finished Elke Siry leaned on the wall and stared at nothing, until Chan wondered if he had become inaudible and invisible.

  At last she said, "Your explanation is nonsense. You are omitting essential data. Why does she really hate you?"

  "I don't know."

  "Then tell me of the previous times that the pair of you met, before your recent encounter on Europa."

  She had no right in the world to ask for such information, and Chan had no reason to provide it to her. But he found the words spilling out, recalling things that had happened many years before. When he finished, Elke Siry nodded slowly.

  "I have never met your friend Deb Bisson. I have hardly met you. However." Elke's red lips parted, to reveal sharp white incisors and slightly pronounced canines. "However, if you had done to me what you did to her, I would tear out your throat the next time that we met.

  "Deb Bisson is a kind, forgiving woman, ever to speak to you again."

  15: A HELPING HAND FOR

  TINKERS AND PIPE-RILLAS

  It was difficult to keep the Mood Indigo exactly balanced on its thrustors, and the ship was almost imperceptibly descending. It was also drifting slowly closer to the Pipe-Rilla vessel sitting on the seabed.

  The crew of that other ship had been less lucky than Bony and his companions. Their vessel was longer than the Mood Indigo, and less of its mass was at the rear end. Instead of settling down stern-first and remaining upright, it had toppled onto its side. Any occupants now had to deal with a ship where floors and walls had switched roles.

  There was no doubt in Bony's mind that this was a vessel built by Pipe-Rillas. They followed the "decorated" school of ship design, their thought processes apparently dominated by "Hey, look, here's another place on the hull where we can attach a gadget." Close up, the ship's exterior was bumped and lumped and pocked and knotted, draped with grapplers and thrustors and sensors.

  And clearly there were beings inside. Bony was now close enough to see the tableau on the sea floor. The fourteen bubble-creatures had formed a semicircle around one side of the Pipe-Rilla ship. Two suited human figures, who must be Liddy Morse and Friday Indigo, stood close to the center of the half-circle, right next to the ship. They were facing what was presumably a port, and one of them was gesturing toward the rounded upper part of the hull.

  Without exchanging a word with anyone, Bony could guess at the problem. The Pipe-Rilla ship, like the Mood Indigo, possessed airlocks. But those locks were useless if their outer hatches opened at the top. In space it made no difference, but here under water you needed a hatch at the bottom, so that all the air in the lock did not escape when the hatch was opened. And again, Friday Indigo's ship had been lucky. Of the three airlocks, one of them had been situated with the outer hatch at the bottom. The Pipe-Rilla vessel had been less fortunate. Bony could see four airlocks, but not one of them had the right position for the outer hatch. The hatches sat at the top of the locks. A Pipe-Rilla who used the lock to leave the ship would have great trouble getting back in. It was a fair guess that the crew had been stranded on board ever since they arrived on Limbo.

  Bony was willing to make another bet. Even with the Mood Indigo hovering less than fifty meters away from them, neither Friday Indigo nor Liddy would be able to think of any way to help the stranded Pipe-Rillas.

  But Bony could.

  First, though, he needed to talk to them. Normally that would be trivial for two ships so close together, but here in Limbo's ocean the surrounding water damped electromagnetic signals. It had to be a direct cable connect, or something much more old-fashioned: talking in person.

  Bony's arrival had not gone unnoticed. One of the suited human figures was waving, but whether in greeting or irritation Bony could not tell. The bubble people, showing more sense than the humans, had retreated to the other side of the Pipe-Rilla ship and were peeping cautiously around the hull. They had the right idea. Even with low thrust, the auxiliary drives would be dangerous if you got too close to the exhausts.

  With that in mind, Bony took the Mood Indigo sideways, away from the other ship, until there was a clear two hundred meters between them. Then he killed all horizontal thrust and gradually decreased the vertical drive. The Mood Indigo made a smooth and sedate landing
on the flat seabed. When Bony was sure that it stood in a stable position he cut all thrust.

  He had not removed his suit since first lifting the ship away from the seabed. All he needed to do was snap the helmet into position and move to the airlock. The usual nervousness as he waited for the lock to cycle and lowered himself into the water was replaced by impatience.

  The sea bottom was quite different here. The sharp but fragile spears that had surrounded the Mood Indigo at its original location were replaced by fleshy pink fingers that reached to waist height and beyond. Bony assumed at first that they were plants—except that as he moved they had the disconcerting habit of reaching toward him, touching his suit, then flinching away. He picked his way carefully through them, across a narrow level plain and then up and down a sudden and unexpected incline. The fingers touched him delicately, in unexpected places, but always quickly backed off.

  Friday Indigo and Liddy Morse had turned away from the Pipe-Rilla ship and were waiting for him as he approached. Direct speech would serve when they were within a few feet of each other, and Indigo didn't waste time in getting down to business.

  He bellowed, "I thought I told you to stay with the ship."

  "I did stay with the ship. It's right there."

  "But I meant—oh, what the hell. We couldn't get sense from the bubble-brains, but they led us to this." Indigo reached out to touch the hull of the Pipe-Rilla ship. At the same time, Liddy grabbed Bony's arm and gave it a welcoming squeeze.

  "Are they alive?" Bony asked. He had taken a quick look through the port of the ship, and seen only an inexplicable whirlwind of movement within.

  "Oh, they're alive all right." Indigo sounded more irritated than pleased. Bony could see why. Living Pipe-Rillas meant that the Mood Indigo was not the first Stellar Group to contact the Limbics. Therefore, Friday Indigo would have no unique position in the history books.

  "How many are on board?"

  "How many?" Indigo's face was hard to see through the suit visor, but his voice was puzzled. "How the hell should I know? I don't see how you could count them even if you wanted to. Thousands, I guess."

  Bony, after his own moment of bewilderment, understood Indigo's answer. It was not just Pipe-Rillas. There must also be a Tinker Composite on board. Bony had never actually seen one, but he definitely wanted to because he had read about them for over thirty years.

  More than ever, he was curious to see the inside of the Pipe-Rilla ship. But his bright idea for getting the aliens in and out needed review. Just how did a Tinker deal with an airlock? It had to be in terms of the whole Composite because individual components were not intelligent until they clustered. What sort of suit was right for a being with no stable shape?

  He didn't have to be able to answer that question himself. All he had to do was arrange things so he could enter the ship. After that, the Tinkers themselves would tell him how they managed exit and entry.

  He turned again to Friday Indigo. "I assume they can't get out."

  "Of course they can't. Look at the position of their airlocks. Open the outer hatch, the air in it will go right up to the surface and the lock will fill with water."

  "I can solve that problem."

  "I know, I know. The Pipe-Rilla and the Tinker Composite must have already thought of it, and so did I. Roll the ship using lateral thrustors, until the outer hatches are on the bottom of the locks. Only I dare not try it. The hull of their ship probably isn't as strong as the Mood Indigo, and I don't think it could take a roll."

  "That's all right. We don't need to move the ship. All we have to do is add an L-section beyond their outer hatch, a wide tube that makes an airtight seal with the hatch and then turns downward for a few meters. That way, air can't escape when they open the hatch, and the level in the vertical section of the tube will just fall or rise to equalize pressures."

  "If that would work, wouldn't they have thought of it themselves?"

  "Maybe they did. But there's no way they could do it from inside. And there's no way we could do it, either, without the machine shop and materials on board the Mood Indigo."

  "You're just trying to justify disobeying orders and flying my ship over here."

  "I thought it was the best thing to do. Anyway, should I try what I said and modify the lock on the alien ship?"

  "Oh, go ahead." Friday Indigo waved a hand in dismissal. "Do what you like. I'm not interested in engineering details. I'm going back to my ship. I have other ideas that I need to explore."

  "I'll let you know when I'm done, sir, and you can operate their airlock."

  "Don't bother. When I told you I was going first, I meant to meet new aliens, not the pain-in-the-ass Pipe-Rillas and Tinkers sitting inside that garbage can."

  Indigo plowed away across the seabed, stomping pink fingers underfoot and raising clouds of silt with every step.

  Liddy stood close to Bony, waiting. When Indigo was safely out of range she said, "I'm really glad you came when you did. You should have heard him after the bubble people brought us here, and he realized that we weren't the first. He was so pissed he was like a crazy man. I was afraid he'd try something terrible."

  "What could he do?"

  "I don't know. But if there were a way to kill everyone in the Pipe-Rilla ship, I suspect he would have done it."

  "Oh, I don't believe that."

  "I'm sure you don't. You're too nice, Bony. But in my line of work I've tended to see men at their worst. Let me offer you a warning. Don't ever get into a situation where being rid of you might be to Friday Indigo's advantage."

  While they spoke, something had been happening at the port of the alien ship. Bony moved closer, and realized that he could no longer see the interior at all. The port was shrouded by a purple-black sheet. He pressed his face to the window and saw that the shroud was composed of a mosaic of wings, each about as long as his finger. It was components of the Tinker Composite, clustering.

  Why would they do that?

  To learn the answer, Bony would first have to find a way into the ship.

  "He didn't give you any orders, Liddy. Would you help me?"

  "Of course. But don't expect me to build anything."

  "I don't. Just give me a hand bringing the L-section of tube over to this ship when it's finished, and help me put it into position."

  "I can manage that. I'm stronger than I look. You should try me some time."

  She grinned at Bony through her visor and flexed her arm muscles. Even within the bulky suit, she seemed slim and graceful. Bony turned away so that he wouldn't look like he was staring. Not sure what to say, he started back toward the Mood Indigo. Liddy came close behind, followed by the bubble people.

  "Why are they following us?" she said. "And what made them lead us over to that ship? We still don't know."

  "Because we can't talk to them. Maybe you could have another try with the translator, while I'm building the airlock adapter."

  "I'm certainly willing. But the first try was a total failure."

  "That was Indigo's fault. He was too impatient. The translator has a big learning component. When the languages are far apart, you need long samples of both before it can make sense of them."

  They had reached the Mood Indigo. Liddy unhooked the translator from its temporary storage on the side of the ship, strapped it at her side, and turned to face the advancing bubble people. Bony, worried about her being outside alone, waited until the advancing group had peacefully settled down a few meters from Liddy. Then it was back into the lock for him—he felt he had been away weeks—and down to the lower level where spare materials were stored. Indigo was noticeably absent, hiding away in his upper-level private quarters. A definite blessing. Bony dragged what he needed through to the cargo hold. It wasn't the most convenient place to do the work, but what he had to build was so big that there was no other option. It would be a classic blunder, make something and then find you couldn't get it out of the ship.

  The job itself was straightforward; almo
st too straightforward. At first Bony found it hard to keep his mind on it, and after a few minutes he went up a level so he could stare out of a port and make sure that Liddy was all right. She was talking, then listening intently to the output of the translator. The bubble-creatures had not moved, except that their spokesman had floated forward and now hovered near Liddy half a meter off the sea floor. The gill slits pumped and pulsed. Reassured, Bony went back to work.

  His task took time and patience. What he had when he was finished formed a great curved tube of transparent plastic, an inverted L-shape over two meters across and seven meters long. The upper end was designed to fit around the outer hatch of the Pipe-Rilla ship and seal to its hull—or to anything else in the known universe. For the moment, Bony was not going to worry about getting it off again. The adhesive, ironically, had been produced using a chemical process given to humans by the Pipe-Rillas. Maybe they also knew a solvent.

  Bony lifted the tube. In the low gravity of Limbo it was not heavy, but it was so big and awkward that it was close to unmanageable. Getting it out of the cargo hold would be tricky. He dragged the L-tube to the edge of the cargo bay, sweating and swearing. When he was almost there, Friday Indigo appeared at the upper level and stared down at the struggling Bony. He did not offer to help, but asked, "Where's Liddy?"

  For the past half hour Bony had not been thinking about Liddy at all. He felt a bit guilty as he said, "Outside. Trying to talk to the bubble people."