George got out of his seat and started for the airlock. Fearless George. Probably felt he had to go first.
“Don’t forget your suit,” she said.
“Oh.” He grinned sheepishly, hit the controls, and pulled on his vest. She connected the converter for him, and for the others.
A few angels were in the air, approaching.
“Keep in mind,” she said, “the envelope is there to provide breathable air and climate control. It forms a hard shell around the face only. Otherwise it’s flexible. That means it won’t protect you from weapons. Somebody hits you with a rock, you’re going down.” She gazed around the cabin to assure herself everyone understood. “I’m going to match the cabin environment to the outside and just open up. That way, if we have to come back in a hurry, there’ll be no jam-up at the lock.
“I suggest you stay together, and don’t go more than a couple of steps from the lander. George, who’s going to hold the fort?”
George looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Somebody stays inside, out of harm’s way. Just in case.”
He looked around for a volunteer. Looked finally at Alyx, but when she said nothing, Nick said he’d stay. Hutch got out of her seat and Nick eased into it. “Bill,” she said, “take direction from Nick.”
“Acknowledge.”
One of the creatures glided past and hovered momentarily over the lander. It was obviously female. Herman tried to get a better look. But he must have moved too quickly, and the thing soared away. Hutch thought it had seemed frightened. A second one settled to the ground. A male. His large white wings caught the sunlight, then folded smoothly behind him. There was no sign of weapons.
Pete had joined George at the lock, waiting for her to open up. She took the cutter out of her vest, showed it to George, and looked meaningfully at him. Last chance. His eyes slid away from her.
She tried to edge past him, but he squared his shoulders and blocked the way. “I think the men should be the first ones out.”
They were all watching the creature with a mixture of admiration and disquiet. If I can keep them in here a little longer, she thought, they might change their minds and back away.
But George had lost all patience, or maybe he wanted to get it over with. She opened the lock and looked out.
“He’s beautiful,” said Alyx.
He was indeed. Features neither entirely human nor avian, but an exotic blend of both. Golden eyes and tawny feathers and lean muscular limbs. And an enormous wingspread. Hutch was reminded of Petraska’s famous portrait of St. Michael.
His eyes were placed somewhat back, almost along the sides of the skull. He looked at them with curiosity, found her, and fastened his attention on her. She saw curiosity in that gaze, and intelligence. And something wild. Alyx was right: He was beautiful. But in the manner of a leopard.
His skull was slightly narrower than a human’s. He tilted his head in the way that parrots do when they’re trying to catch one’s attention. His lips parted in a half smile, and she thought she caught the glint of fangs. She fought down a chill—Don’t jump to conclusions—but pushed the stud on the cutter and felt power begin flowing through the instrument.
Alyx’s voice came from behind her. “Are we sure we want to do this, George?”
“Yes! My God, child, are you serious?”
A second angel swept in, another male, and the landing brought him half-running toward the lander. But he stopped and held out his hands, the way one might to indicate he is not carrying a weapon. Alyx had moved in directly behind Hutch. “He’s gorgeous,” she said. “They both are.”
She wondered if Alyx had seen the incisors.
Despite the wings they were clearly mammalian. They wore vests that revealed most of the upper body, and leggings that fell to the shins. But their lower limbs ended in claws, not feet.
Not quite so angelic, after all.
Hutch looked past George, who was shifting his weight, getting ready to leave the airlock. The ground was covered with soft, green grass. “I just noticed something,” she said.
“What?” asked Pete, as he joined her. He was holding a necklace in his left hand. A gift.
“There are no birds here anywhere.”
George climbed ponderously down. Pete and Hutch followed, moving out on either side. The gravity was probably only about 80 percent of a standard gee, but after the light one-quarter they’d been living in, it was a burden. George smiled and waved. The female swept past, arced back, and floated down, wings spread wide.
“I don’t think,” said George, “I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Where are the birds?”
He sighed. “How would I know?” And then, to the angels: “Hello. Greetings from Earth.”
We come in peace.
Michael took a tentative step forward. He was only a few centimeters taller than she, a creature of impossible grace. The wind whispered across his wings. He was studying her again, his eyes connecting with hers, then traveling down her body and coming to rest at last on the cutter.
His lips parted, and she saw the beginning of an accusation in his glance. But then it dissolved into a smile. If the rest of them were like this bunch, she suspected, and if they were really friendly, interspecies relationships couldn’t be far off.
“They don’t seem at all scared of us,” said Tor, over the common channel.
Bill told them to be careful.
George stepped forward, past Hutch, and offered his hand. Michael raised a wing partway and let it settle again.
The second angel had dark blue feathers and dark eyes that one could almost have described as melancholy. His wings displayed a complex red-and-white pattern. Gabriel, possibly.
Pete held out the bracelet. It was cheap, silver-plated. But if you didn’t know better…
“Pete,” Hutch told him, “you’re getting too far from the lander.”
Herman stood in the open hatch, hesitating. Then he stepped down.
Still no birds. Maybe this world didn’t have birds. Was that possible? They’d been everywhere else, in one form or another, wherever large land animals had evolved.
Two more of the creatures landed, one male, one female.
The bracelet sparkled in the sunlight.
Gabriel’s eyes traveled from Pete to the bracelet to Hutch. Back to the bracelet. Hutch thought she detected contempt.
The angels spread out a few paces to either side.
Alyx was preparing to jump down from the lock. Tor, with his easel, was behind her.
“Stay put,” said Hutch, privately.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Gabriel took the bracelet. He turned and held it out for one of the females. She came forward, accepted it, frowned at it. What was it for?
Despite everything, despite the nobility of their appearance, despite the complete lack of any threatening gesture, despite the fact that she had begun entertaining lascivious ideas about both Michael and Gabriel, Hutch knew, absolutely knew, something was wrong.
Two more appeared over the river, circled the lander, and started down. They were starting to draw a substantial crowd.
“Give me wings like that,” Alyx said, “and no male would be safe on the streets at night.”
Touchingly modest, thought Hutch. The woman hardly needed wings.
Michael raised his right hand, palm out, and spoke. A few words, delivered in a rich baritone. She could almost understand the words. Thank you. Or Hello. Welcome to Paradise.
One of the females was edging around, trying to get an angle on the open hatch.
“Hutch,” demanded Alyx, “what’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet. Just stay in the lander.”
The female advanced a few paces, covering about half the ground between the lander and Pete, who had taken Gabriel’s hand and was shaking it. Old friends, well met. Pete was considerably bigger than the angel.
Herman must have sense
d it too. He moved up and stood beside Hutch.
All of the angels seemed unobtrusively to be closing in. Hutch noticed that Pete was cut off from the airlock. She retreated a step to get her back to the lander. “Heads up, Pete,” she said.
He actually turned and smiled pleasantly at her. Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. These are friends. It was as far as he got.
Gabriel’s smile widened and Hutch saw the incisors again. They sank into Pete’s throat while one of the females jumped him from behind. Michael went for George, who, in the time-honored tradition of amateur adventurers, froze. Herman trundled past her and threw himself into the struggle.
The female that had gotten between Hutch and the airlock showed her a set of claws, smiled, and flew at her. Hutch went down as another one glided past, trying to get at the airlock.
It all happened with blazing speed. The angels had acted simultaneously, as if some signal had passed among them, much the way birds seem to leave a stand of trees at the same moment. Hutch’s cutter blinked on and she drove the beam into her attacker’s midsection as the creature tried to claw her. It screamed and went down in a fury of feathers and shrieks.
Hutch rolled it away, got a quick glimpse of more fangs, jabbed upward and missed. It was Gabriel, and it gasped and swiped at her with long talons. She got lucky: they hit the hard shell that covered her face, and she swung the laser with everything she had. It took off parts of wing and shoulder and bit into its neck. A dark brown liquid spurted out. It screamed and leaped into the air.
Herman yanked Michael off George. It turned on him and raked him. Hutch rammed the cutter into one of its legs as Herman collapsed.
Because she possessed the sole weapon, Hutch quickly became the focal point of the battle. She swung the laser blade with deft precision, discovering to her surprise that she enjoyed slashing the sons of bitches. Every time the weapon struck home, biting through flesh and blood, she knew an exhilaration quite apart from any emotion she’d felt before. The air was filled with shrieks and screams.
George staggered to his feet, covered with blood. Herman was bleeding from a dozen wounds. George saw him and bellowed with rage. The angels were all smaller than he, and lighter, and they went after him as he tried to go to Herman’s aid. He landed a series of furious punches on one. It bit down on his arm and hung on while he hammered it into unconsciousness, then shook it off, let it fall, and turned to go after the others.
But he was dazed. Hutch got to his side and drew him back. “Don’t be an idiot. Get to the airlock.”
She gave him a push and turned to help Herman. He lay still while the creatures clawed him, trying unsuccessfully to get through the Flickinger field. Hutch took a wing off one and the others came for her. Nick’s voice howled in her ear: “They’re killing Pete. My God, Hutch, they’re savages.”
Yes, they are. Pete was trying to fight off two attackers. He screamed as they took turns tearing at him. Inside his e-suit, blood oozed out of a dozen wounds. Briefly, his eyes met hers. It was a ghastly moment, the one she would carry out of the battle and never forget. Then, before she could get to him, he was down.
The sky seemed filled with wings and claws. Hutch was trying to fight her way forward, but something caught her shoulder, raked her, and Alyx’s voice sounded on the link, “Don’t, Hutch.” Almost hysterical: “You can’t help him.”
Dammit, Hockelmann. I told you this would happen. She saw that George had a clear run at the airlock. Then the thing on her back was trying to get at her throat and saliva dripped out of its mouth. My God, it was Michael, who had looked so handsome moments before. She twisted around, hit him with the heel of her left hand, and drove the blade through his shoulder. He screamed and broke free and she went down, rolled over, and whipped the weapon against his thigh. He howled, gave her an outraged look, and fluttered off.
Pete was gone and she got up and charged the spot where he’d been while Alyx cried No, no, don’t do it. One of the things tried to get the cutter out of her hand and there was a brief frantic struggle, claws around her wrist, claws at her back, an arm around her throat. Then Tor was there and she was free again, still wielding the weapon, look out, she almost took out Tor, and they were backing toward the lander.
The things retreated a bit, gave them room. Behind them, Nick and Alyx dragged George inside, out of harm’s way.
One of the males got to Alyx, grabbed her by an arm. Wings beating furiously, it tried to wrestle her out of the airlock. Tor hit it with a wrench. Hit it again. Alyx spilled onto the ground. It was struggling with Tor when Hutch arrived. She jumped onto the ladder, brought the cutter down through a calf, slicing off a claw. More shrieks. And more brown blood fountaining. She slashed it again, and the thing let go and, pumping its wings furiously, rose into the sky, where one of its fellows attacked it.
Alyx was on her feet, climbing back up. Tor seized her wrist, and boosted her into the airlock. Hutch tumbled in behind her. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the cabin. She heard the hatch close.
“No,” she cried, “Herman and Pete are still out there.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Tor’s voice trembled. They could hear the things clawing at the hull, jamming knives into the windscreen, trying to pry it loose. Alyx took the cutter away from her and turned it off. “Bill,” said Nick, “take us up.” Blood ran down his face and arm.
“Acknowledge,” said Bill. The lander trembled as the engines came on. And it began to rise. The commotion outside became even more frenzied.
THEY RETURNED TO the Memphis to repair the wounded. Hutch and George were both clawed and gouged. They submitted to Bill’s patchwork ministrations, then took tranks and went to bed. When they were safely out of the way, Tor and Nick, against Alyx’s protests, took the lander back down, landed after dark, and recovered the bodies. They’d been hacked mercilessly and left by the river. Their Flickinger fields glowed when the lamplight hit them.
They were approaching the Memphis on the return flight when Bill’s voice came over the link. “I did not want to disturb Captain Hutchins,” he said. “But I thought someone should know. I found the other ring.”
Neither Tor nor Nick had any idea what he was talking about. “What’s the other ring, Bill?”
“Three more stealths. There’s another relay. Another outbound signal.”
chapter 14
Passion makes us cowards grow, What made us brave before.
—JOHN DRYDEN,
AN EVENING’S LOVE, II, 1671
“WHAT DO YOU want me to say?” George hurled the question at her, across the common room. The wounds on his leg and both shoulders were cemented together and wrapped.
Hutch had said nothing to provoke the outburst, but he must have seen it in her eyes. Like him, she was glued together. Ankle, thigh, waist, and neck had been slashed. Alyx had given her another trank, and she’d slept soundly through a second night. The painkillers were working fine, but everything was secured to prevent movement.
Tor was with them, seated quietly at a console, reading something. He turned at the comment and looked first at George, then over at Hutch.
Everyone had studiously avoided discussing the judgment that had led to the event. Instead, there were only general comments. Never had a chance.
Damned savages.
“Nobody’s accusing you,” said Tor quietly.
“She is.”
Hutch was lying on her back, her head propped up on pillows. “Don’t push it, George,” she said.
“So what happens now?” asked Tor, trying to change the flow of conversation.
“We report in, fold our tent, and go home,” said Hutch.
The room grew still. “Can’t do that, Hutch,” George said evenly.
“What do you mean? What would be the point of hanging around here?”
“I wasn’t suggesting we hang around here. We’ve nothing to learn from these savages.”
“Isn’t that what this was supposed to be ab
out? Go out and talk to the Others? Find out what they think?” She realized what he was contemplating. To the degree that the cement would allow her, she turned her head to look at him. “No,” she said. “This is the end.”
“You are employed by me, Hutch. I’ll decide when it’s the end.”
“You know,” she said, “I could shut this operation down anytime.”
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that? But you’re under contract. We have an agreement.”
“I don’t have to stand by while you kill yourself.”
Tor got between them and looked down at her. “Hutch,” he said, “we want to go on. To find out what this is about.”
To follow another outbound signal.
She closed her eyes and visualized the planet-wide receiver formed by the three stealths, collecting the transmission coming in from Point B, maybe adding something it picked up down in the country of the angels, relaying it over to a second planetwide system, a transmitter, composed of three more stealths, and forwarding the signal—Where? And to what purpose?
“Along the rim of the bubble,” said Tor. “Actually, the transmission angles back toward the bubble. In the general direction of Outpost.”
“Fourteen degrees above the plane of the galaxy,” George said.
“It’s not exactly aimed near Outpost,” Tor corrected himself. “But it’s close enough.”
“It’s aimed toward the Mendelson Cluster,” said George.
“The Mendelson Cluster’s a long way off.”
“We’re sure it doesn’t go that far,” said Tor. “Looks as if the new target is either a class-G 156 light-years away, or a red supergiant at more than 400 light-years. Probably the supergiant. The track passes at about 50 A.U.s out from the class-G.”
“Whichever it is,” said Hutch, “it’s a pretty good ride.”
“We can’t just walk away from it,” said George. “Especially now.” He was talking about Pete and Herman.
Tor nodded and sat down on the edge of her couch. “What we want to do is to stay with it. We’re far beyond the kind of discovery we started out with. There’s a network here. We have to figure out what it’s about, Hutch. So we need to keep going. But we’ve talked, and we know you were right. So we learn from our mistakes. We become a little more cautious. Use common sense.”
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