If he ended up as brute biscuit, an eventuality that loomed as a distinct possibility, the actual explanation would be moot.
How would a legitimate visitor identify himself to such a guardian? Did he have anything on him that might secure passage?
He dragged out the map projector and waved it. "Look, see? Local manufacture. I belong here." Giving no indication that it either understood or sympathized, the thing maintained its relentless stalk.
In quick succession Low flashed everything he had with him, from the small flashlight on his service belt to the tiny package of antibacterial tissues that was part of every crew kit. In each instance the result was the same: The creature ignored it.
Right or left? Low thought frantically. He'd have to make a choice. Even as he contemplated his rapidly shrinking options, he knew he'd never make it. The thing was too damn fast.
It was clear now why it was taking its time. If by some miracle Low did manage to slip past and make it to the tunnel, the creature would be unable to pursue. It was simply too big. It had been emplaced, or bred, or built to remain forever in this chamber. Its permanent presence here had been decreed from the beginning.
What was so important here that it required such a guardian? He was going to die without ever finding out.
The map projector was compact and heavy. Taking aim, he threw it as hard as he could. It bounced harmlessly off the creature's tough, leathery body.
Reaching into a back pocket, he pulled out one of the few objects that remained to him. But why throw a life crystal, he thought? If anything, it would probably only make the creature stronger. Could he somehow arrange things so that it would revive him after he was killed? Of course, if the monster tore him apart, it might be difficult even for one of the miraculous crystals to resurrect a mess of scattered fragments. Not to mention the impossibility of revival if the creature ate him.
Trying to divide his attention between the advancing monstrosity and his remaining choices, he peered back into the depths. That's when he saw a mate to his stalker lying curled up and quiescent on the floor below. It was motionless, desiccated and dead.
Great, he thought. Another one. The moaning was very near now. He thought he sensed a hint of expectation in it. :
What the hell, he decided. If it didn't work, he wouldn't die any slower.
Turning, he threw the life crystal not at the creature stalking him but at the dead one below. It landed precisely in the middle of the knot of tendons and promptly sank out of sight. Whirling to once more confront the devil before him, he could only listen as the one below revived.
Standing and stretching, it angled its perceptions upward. Sensing movement, it tensed, focused ... and sprang.
Low immediately fell to the floor. Claws outstretched, the monster sailed over him to strike the stalker head-on. Outraged moans filled the air as the two tumbled backward in an inextricable tangle of claws and legs.
Grasping mouths sought purchase within the tough hide. Claws scraped against unyielding surfaces. Powerful limbs thrashed and thrust. Like a pair of drunken wrestlers, the two guardians twisted and twitched in an orgy of determined fury.
Meanwhile a shaky Low climbed slowly to his feet. With no chance of slipping past them, he had no choice but to continue on.
How long would they continue to fight, he found himself wondering? Until one killed the other? They seemed evenly matched. Tough, fleshless torsos and limbs could take a lot of punishment. Maybe they would brawl until they exhausted themselves.
That was a denouement he could deal with. Turning, he resumed his interrupted advance, curiosity as well as necessity driving him to the tunnel that opened into the chamber on the opposite side of the mezzanine.
He did not feel the multitude gathering above him. Even in their millions the Cocytans did not impact on the physical world. Their mental weight exerted a pressure he sensed only as the start of a possible headache, and this he attributed to his recent near escape. Had he known the truth, it surely would, so to speak, have weighed more heavily on him.
A flurry of excitement had raced through the Cocytan group-mind when Low had succeeded in bypassing the guardians. Few previous visitors had ever made it so far. For that reason none could predict what might happen next. It was a New Thing and, as such, deserving of the attention it was receiving.
"What an elegant solution," the first declaimed. "To cancel out an invincible guardian, one must utilize another invincible guardian." Even the skeptics were impressed, and so withheld their usual morose commentary.
Low felt nothing. As he advanced at a steady pace, he was unaware of the many minds that marked his progress. Accompanied by a million ghosts, he was more troubled by some dust in his left eye.
The passageway opened abruptly into another large chamber. In its center was a magnificently decorated platform atop which rested a sculpture of exquisite refinement, bathed in a pale light of a color not previously encountered. Low entered warily, ready to duck quickly back into the tunnel, but there were no guardians here, dead or otherwise. Approaching cautiously, he inspected the sculpted icon.
More than anything, it reminded him of pictures he'd seen in books on mythology. A recumbent griffin, he thought, though designed to walk on two legs instead of four. Furthermore, no terrestrial bird had ever possessed a head like that. As for the wings, they were stunted and protruded from the back in sets of three. He wasn't sure they were wings. They might have been external gills, some kind of vestigial ornamentation, or a sex attractant.
Mounting the platform, the reason for the sculpture's extraordinary detail became clear. It wasn't a sculpture but a corpse. Something about its aspect, something in the face struck him with singular force.
He felt he had finally found a Cocytan.
CHAPTER 15
He couldn't be sure, of course. In life it might prove as ravenous as the monsters he had only recently escaped. But he didn't think so. The features were somehow too sensitive, the fact that the upper limbs lay relaxed by the side of the body instead of being contracted against it, all contributed to the feeling of intelligent repose.
There was one way to find out. Dare he chance it?
What if it was nothing more than another mindless eating machine, a different sort of guardian awaiting thoughtless resurrection so that it could keep this chamber clean of intruding vermin such as himself? In the end it was the absence of predatory cutlery such as prominent teeth or claws that decided him. It might spit poison or jump on prey with both feet, but it did not have the countenance of a feral hunter.
Digging into a pocket, he removed one of the life crystals. The pale-green efflorescence was as strong as ever. Mounting the platform, he studied the calm, strong face for a long moment before placing the crystal carefully in the center of what he supposed to be the chest. As it melted into the broad torso, he retreated to a respectful distance. This time he was ready to dash back into the tunnel should the revived subject exhibit any hostile tendencies.
Both eyes flicked open simultaneously. They were wide, intelligent and intensely inhuman. Low took another step backward, marveling at the pace of resurrection. However long the entity had lain here, upper limbs laid neatly at its sides, face turned mutely heavenward, it had taken the fabulous crystal only moments to initiate the process of revivification.
How long, he found himself wondering as it rose to a sitting position? A year, a hundred, a thousand? It pivoted slowly on its hips to survey its surroundings, methodically taking in the details of the chamber, the ambient light and the ceiling overhead. Eventually, its gaze settled on the room's only other occupant. Those extraordinary eyes met Low's. Neither human nor Cocytan blinked.
Confusion, jubilation and excitement reigned in equal measure among the assembled perceivers. They were helpless to influence the course of events, which had taken a turn not even the most optimistic among them had foreseen, so their frustration nearly exceeded their elation. So strong was the outpouring of perception that
several times Low found himself looking over his shoulder in search of an unseen presence. Though a million and more returned his attention, there was naught for him to see.
No longer did he have to speculate about the revived's level of intelligence. This was no mindless guardian that gazed back at him, no blindly ravening carnivore. The tripartite wings fluttered against the alien's back, serving some purpose other than flight. They could no more raise that impressive mass off the ground than could Low's arms if he flapped them until he dropped.
When the creature—the Cocytan, Low corrected himself— showed no inclination to advance, the Commander took a hesitant step forward. "Sorry for waking you up."
The being's beak parted, and sounds emerged. They might have been music or mating grunts for all Low knew. If they were language, it was quite beyond him. Though it was oddly guttural and utterly incomprehensible, he listened closely in hopes of divining some meaning. In this he failed completely.
He spread his hands wide, hoping the gesture might be understood. "It's no good. I can't understand you."
In response, the Cocytan gestured with one arm and spoke again, more softly and less commandingly this time. Double lids half closed. What this portended remained hidden from Low. He was no more adept at reading the Cocytan's gestures and expression than he had been at deciphering its language. Assuming it was speaking and not ululating some arcane postresurrection life chant, he reminded himself.
Robbins, now, with her experience with the Mayan glyphs and her knowledge of language in general, might have done better. Certainly she couldn't do any worse. Low spoke only a smattering of German and Russian and was fluent in nothing save math.
Unfortunately, Robbins was still wherever she was, leaving him on his own.
"Excuse me just a minute, will you?" Anticipating failure, he nonetheless removed his tiny pen communicator from his belt. It would only work if the receiving unit was activated. There was nothing to lose by trying. He lifted the communicator slowly, to show that it was harmless. The Cocytan tracked every movement. While not as imposing or threatening as the eels or the outer guardians, it was seven feet tall, broad at the shoulders, and plenty massive enough to inflict some serious hurt if it were so inclined. Low was careful to do nothing to alarm it, though it didn't act as if it could be easily alarmed.
Without much hope of success, he activated the unit and tried to contact Robbins. Would she ever remember to turn the damn thing back on?
"Just trying to get in touch with a friend of mine," he explained cheerfully. Alien eyes continued their probing. Curiously, angrily, indifferently? He could not tell. "She wandered off some time ago, and I'm probably not going to be able to get a hold of her because I haven't been able to since we split up and I've been trying ever since to—"
"Boston? Boston, is that you?" The voice was distorted by distance and intervening structures, but it was instantly recognizable. Mightily surprised, Low could only gape at the tiny built-in speaker. As for the Cocytan, its gaze might have flicked in the direction of the communicator for a second or so. Low wasn't sure.
He smiled wanly. "Guess I was wrong." Thumbing the tuner, he tried to eliminate the static. "Maggie, where are you? Where the hell have you been and what have you been doing?"
"Trying to find you," she shot back. "I've been all over these little islands."
So the scientist's supposition had been correct. "I guess we kept missing each other. Well, it's time to end the waltz. We have company."
"Company? I don't understand."
While Low spoke, he kept a wary eye on the Cocytan. It looked relaxed seated there atop its platform, silently studying both visitor and surroundings.
"At my instigation, one of the locals has decided to put in an appearance. If it's upset at having its sleep disturbed, it's keeping it pretty much to itself. We've been trying to communicate, but his knowledge of colloquial English about equals my mastery of Cocytan."
"An alien? Are you serious? A real, live alien?"
"No," Low replied sarcastically, "it's a special effect. It's sitting right here in front of me. We keep yakking at each other, without much result. It was dead, but perfectly preserved, and I revived it with a life crystal."
"Life crystal? What...?"
"I'll explain everything. Where are you now?"
"Well, you know how those glass balls take you from the central island to the others? It's not hard to figure out; the machine does all the work. I crawled into one and it carried me to this huge tower."
Low nodded absently. "Brink and I have visited all but one of them. Can you describe your surroundings?"
"Sure." She proceeded to do so. "The place is full of mounted machinery and transparent cases. Some of them are lit from within. Most don't respond, but one or two react when you touch them."
The museum spire, Low decided. "I know where you are. I'll meet you back in the big chamber on the central island. I don't suppose you'll be able to make any sense out of what this creature is saying, but you can't do any worse than I am. If you'd like to give it a try, I'll bring you back."
"Oh, I think I'll be able to talk to it," she chirped brightly. "No problem. It'll be fun to try it out."
Low did a double take. "Try what out?"
"The Cocytan language, of course. At least, I assume it's the local language. Where did you think I'd been all this time? I've been studying it." She spoke as casually as if she'd been browsing a Berlitz over coffee and danish.
"How'd you manage that? Brink and I couldn't even tell the written glyphs apart from the control surfaces."
"One of the exhibits here," she explained. "It's really fascinating. Makes a CD-ROM player look like blackboard and chalk. You put this thing against your head, and I don't know exactly how it works, but it does. Direct cerebral induction?"
"Direct cerebral...," he hesitated. "Where'd you hear about that?"
"Read it in a magazine once. Or maybe I mentioned it in an old report. I'm not sure." She laughed. "I guess it doesn't improve your memory. But you sure learn a lot, and fast. You press your forehead against this cushion, say something and suddenly the translation's right there in your mind. The important thing is, when you step back from the machinery, the information stays with you. You could say I kind of stumbled into it. My head hit the pickup, or whatever it is, and I reacted instinctively. So the first words I learned in Cocytan were naughty ones."
This was convenient timing, Low thought to himself.
"I don't see why it wouldn't work on you also, Boston," she went on. "Although I've had some experience with other languages. Maybe it helps me to learn faster. Again, I don't know. Wish I'd had one of these when I was a grad student at UCLA. It beats the hell out of the language lab."
"It's one thing to learn a language," he told her. "Speaking it is something else. Our new host has a pretty deep voice and tends to growl a lot of words. Do you think your throat can make the necessary sounds?"
A tiny green LED atop the communicator flashed as she responded. "No problem. I've been talking back to the Educator, as I've come to call it. Tone doesn't seem to be as important as elocution. I think I can grunt with the best of 'em. Now, what's all this 'life crystal' business?"
"It's be easier to explain in person. I'll meet you back by the ceiling collapse. If I don't show up, don't wait around for me."
There was sudden concern in her voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I had some trouble getting this far. I may have more on the way out. Nothing you can do about it. Just make sure that you're there."
"Boston?" Her tone mellowed. "I'm sorry about stomping off like that. I was angry, and frustrated, and scared, and a whole lot of other things all mixed up together. The only way I know to handle turmoil like that is to get off by myself so I can think. It worked for me in Namibia and China, so I thought it would work here."
"Forget it."
"Thanks. You know, I'm almost as famous for my temper as for my reporting."
&n
bsp; "Now you can be famous for your translating ability."
"What about this native? Will it wait around for us to come back?"
Low glanced at the Cocytan. It was ignoring him, engrossed in its surroundings. "I don't know. If it tries to follow me out, I'm certainly not going to object. On the other hand, there's nothing to be gained by trying to coerce it. It's a lot bigger than me and I have the feeling it wouldn't take too kindly to an insistent push.
"As for how long it will stay revived, I can't say. It's been dead a lot longer than Ludger."
Her tone was incredulous. "Brink's alive?"
"Yeah, I revived him too. Why so surprised? You absorb an ancient alien tongue in a few hours, and I learn how to bring back the dead. Maybe tomorrow we'll work on antigravity and immortality. It would help a lot if we could ask this entity a few questions."
"That's what I do best," she replied. "Okay, I'll meet you by the rubble pile. I'm starting out right now."
"Good. Oh, and if you run into Ludger, go easy with him."
"Say again?"
"Just don't upset him. These life crystals have become something of an obsession with him. He's not acting right."
"Don't worry about me, Boston. I'm an old pro at humoring the eccentric."
"Just letting you know. Also, keep this channel open and your communicator on. We'll worry about the battery power later. I don't want to lose track of you again. I think it's important that we keep in contact from now on."
"Roger. Isn't that what I'm supposed to say now?"
"Only if you want to talk to somebody named Roger." He couldn't keep from smiling. "See you in a little while."
The fact that no appropriately snide comment was forthcoming assured him she was on her way. Which meant it was time for him to get moving as well. Hooking the communicator back onto his belt, he eyed the Cocytan as he started for the passageway.
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