The hive's communication center and satellite terminal had also been destroyed, but not before the operators had succeeded in transmitting a message to Zirenba. From there it was instantly relayed to Ciccikalk, whence help had been summoned.
Many were dead and every clan had new ancestors to honor. But there were no recriminations, no days of wailing and weeping. Because the water lines were untouched the Servitor staff could efficiently extinguish all but the most persistent fires. Because the Servitors. were also responsible for such diverse functions as keeping the peace and cleaning up the garbage, restoration and repair were well coordinated from the beginning.
Families tallied their losses, clanmothers compiled rosters of the dead, while the job of putting Paszex back together again proceeded smoothly. Since the AAnn had been too busy or too contemptuous to destroy the synchronous orbit communications satellites above Willow wane, reestablishing contact with the rest of the planet was simply a matter of placing portable communication discs above the town.
Ryo cared little for such details as he'd raced through the smoke filled corridors in search of Fal.
She'd been working in the Nursery. If he'd known that, he wouldn't have worried so much about her. But he couldn't be sure she was at work when the AAnn attacked. She could have been anywhere in the hive. It was a considerable relief to learn that she was safe and unhurt.
When the first explosions had sounded, followed immediately by the alarms, she'd assisted in the transfer of the larvae to the special Nursery chambers below the hive's fifth and bottom level. There she and the other attendants waited out the battle in comparative safety.
The emergency lower Nursery had its own sealed air supply as well as weapons, and could have held out for three seasons without revealing itself to long term invaders. Such security for the young was a holdover from the Thranx's primitive past. Even after attaining intelligence and civilization, the Thranx had never forgotten that the most basic ingredient for the survival of a people is the protection of the young.
Eventually the town learned that the timely arrival of a Thranx warship had, indeed, forced the hasty AAnn retreat. That did not prevent Ryo, Bor, and Aen from being accorded the status due local heroes.
They had been responsible for the deaths of at least three of the bandits the local council would not dignify the AAnn by calling them invaders and one of the two AAnn shuttles had been destroyed by the Thranx warship before rendezvous with its mother ship. The Thranx captain had ascribed the fatal shot to an improperly supervised gunnery officer, subsequently "reprimanded." So there was something of a trade off, incidentwise. Nevertheless, a few were convinced that the success was due to Ryo's stinging rifle. But there was now no way to prove this, so Ryo and his companions naturally refused to accept credit for it.
That did not keep the hive council from voting them commendations and thanks. There was even talk of some kind of presentation at the capital. That never materialized, but weeks later Ryo learned that he had been nominated for a single crimson star by the grateful colonial government, and that the award had been approved by the appropriate bureau on Hivehom, in Daret. The star was to be set in his chiton just behind his left shoulder.
Some military and civilian heroes of great accomplishment could boast twenty and thirty such stars, acquired through long and meritorious service. A few even carried the coveted yellow sunburst. But thousands of respected achievers had never received a single such honor. The award was quite a coup for Ryo's clan, though he cared little for it. Anyone would have done as he bad, presented with the same options. Nonetheless, it was argued, it was he who had done it.
As the weeks passed, supplies were air ferried from Zirenba, and Jupiq and Paszex's other sister towns contributed what they could. Medical and food supplies were the first to arrive in quantity, followed by technicians, building materials, and sophisticated replacement components from Ciccikalk.
The damaged fields were soon readied for replanting. New ventilation and exhaust stacks were quickly set and sealed in place.
The greatest damage was to the module transport terminal. Ryo went there one day to see how repairs were progressing. It was important to the Company because most of Inmot's local unprocessed produce was shipped via module to Zirenba.
The guide tracks on which the magnetic repulsion modules cruised were still being poured and cast. The thick gray white plastic would solidify quickly into a nearly unbreakable, flexible line. New coils were being sealed into position. Under the critical gaze of a large crew of local and imported technicians the station was being rebuilt in the most modern style and much expensive sunglass crystal was used as shielding.
The new station would be larger and more efficient as well as more attractive than its predecessor, though the citizens of Paszex would gladly have traded it for the old one and a retraction of the cause of its destruction. Ryo wondered if the lavish new terminal was the government's subtle apology to the scarred inhabitants.
A big celebration was held when the first modules arrived over the new track from Jupiq, but Ryo missed the event, being deep in the jungle at the time. He watched it via screen later that night, saw the dozen oblong passenger modules link up outside Jupiq to form a single silvery segmented train, then split up outside Paszex to arrive in stately individual procession.
At least the system was operational again. Goods and individuals could once more travel freely between Paszex and the rest of Willow wane. Only decorative detail remained to be added to the terminal. More government money. More apologies.
A formal clan evening meal was served that night. The clan hall was utilized and the meal set two timeparts later than normal to allow everyone time to dress properly. Fine jewelry and inlays were brought out for the occasion. There were neck pouches and body vests of orange and silver mesh, pink threadwork so fine that it seemed no hand or machine could manage the weave. Females and males alike sported inlays of cerulean and carnelian, obsidian and chalcedony, faceted gems, fine ceramic and enamel in curlicues, triangles, and bars. Most gleamed from excavations made between mandibles and eyes, though more official inserts shone on a few shoulders and necks.
After the meal Ryo's crimson star was awarded in a formal ceremony. The four pointed insignia was presented by a minor government functionary who'd traveled from Zirenba for the occasion.
The official presented the small transparent case to the venerable Ilvenzuteck, Ryo's clanmother, who handed it proudly to the inlayer. The craftswoman set to work with blades and chisels, painlessly excavating a gap from the chiton of Ryo's left shoulder while the rest of the clan looked on approvingly.
Permaglue was brushed on the base of the star, which was then carefully set in place, the metal fitting flush with Ryo's exoskeleton. The inlayer, an old Thranx, took satisfaction from a perfect fit on the first attempt. No glue oozed from the edges of the incision. She'd done this many times before, though mostly with cheap ceramics and rarely before an audience. She applied a little saliva to shine the star, inlayer tradition.
The decoration would remain a permanent part now of Ryo's body, for all to see and admire. If he ever did any traveling, it would be amusing when strangers asked him in what campaign, during what exploration he'd achieved the award. He would have to confess that he'd earned it for acceding to the impulse to prevent belligerent aliens' from knocking down tettoq trees and asfi bushes.
A loud whistling arose from the assembled clanate, from elders, adults, and adolescents alike. The whistle of approval rose shrilly and then snapped off, neatly concluded. Ryo acknowledged it while Fal beamed proudly at him from her seat nearby.
She looks particularly beautiful tonight, he thought, with the simple yellow stripes in her forehead and the three pink dots topping each. She wore matching neck and body attire of violet iridescent material. Violet and silver thread had been applied with temporary glue around her b thorax and spicules. Silver wires formed double h
elixes around both arching ovipositors, an agonizingly long task at which her brother and friends had helped.
For a moment Ryo thought to boldly announce their intention to mate, but of course he could not do that without consulting her first, though he knew she would agree instantly. It was just as well, he thought. Lovely as she was, he still wasn't certain he was ready for that.
So he stood, accepting the accolades of his clan, the four pointed crimson star shining on his shoulder. As he thought of the lady who loved him and the certain promotion to the Inmot local council, he was quiet, contemplative.
No one in the assembled crowd of friends and relatives could have guessed that the thought uppermost in Ryozenzuzex's mind was this: he did not hate but, instead, greatly envied the AAnn of the shuttles ...
Chapter Three
The ship was nearly as young as her captain. Six great oval projection fans formed a circle in front of it, attached to the octahedral bulk of the craft proper by long metal corridors and a webwork of struts and braces.
Each fan generated a portion of the posigravity field, a crude precursor of the KK drive that was to come following the Amalgamation. This field pulled the ship through Space Plus, for all that it was ungainly, unstreamlined, and resembled an angular metallic squid. Generation of the posigrav field used a great deal of energy and Space Plus was no place for timid physics. It was a region inhabited by ghost stars, where visible light turned diffuse and X ray stars became visible. Other peculiarities were normal to Space Plus, the region of theory wherein the ships of Deep Space uncertainly made their way. A captain had to be ready to deal with all sorts of manipulative physical phenomena, some that were not matter, others that were not energy.
Below Space Plus lay normal space ("below" here signifying a place more colloquial than relativistic), where could be found predictable stars and habitable planets. Below that were the unnatural atomic and subatomic vagaries of Space Minus, or Nullspace, a region of eternity best not touched, where tachyons and other nonexistent particles became real and where ships and messages sometimes vanished more utterly than if they'd dropped into a collapsar. Nullspace was, according to a most respected Thranx theosophical physicist, "the inside out of real."
Captain Brohwelporvot strolled the control room of the Zinramm. Though he was on his third expedition for Deep Space Research he was still nervous about his first command. Relaxed in their saddles, his crew formed a circle around him.
Through the forward observation port the distant purple glow of the posigravity drive field marked the burrow the Zinramm was tunneling through Space Plus. They were a quarter of a season out from Hivehom system. In addition to verifying and extending the charts for this considerable section of space, they'd entered and studied two new planetary systems, one holding a world that was marginally inhabitable a discovery by itself sufficient to make this the most productive of the three expeditions Broh had so far directed.
Still, as they had time left, he drove ship and crew deeper through the Arm. Nothing ever quite satisfied Broh, no discovery sated his curiosity or sense of duty. His internal drive was one of the reasons he'd been selected to command the Zinramm when his years did not seem to merit it.
The scanner made a sign toward his captain with a foothand, the other foothand poised delicately above lower contacts and his truhands remaining on the controls.
"What is it, Uvov?"
"Object, sir. Extrasystemic, twenty squares right of our present course. Moving at moderate speed and inclined slightly up from the plane off the ecliptic."
"Intercept course?" Broh stared over the scanner's shoulder at quadruple colored screens.
"Three timeparts," replied the scanner, after a moment's calculating.
"Identification?"
"Impossible to say at this distance and velocity, sir. It's quite small. Wandering asteroid perhaps. Cometary nucleus. Or? ..." He left the always hopeful question unanswered.
Broh said nothing. Such gaps were what the journey of the Zinramm were supposed to fill. He considered. They were in no hurry to get anywhere and any object traveling this far out from a system was worth a casual inspection. Turning, he called across the disk of the room.
"Emynt."
"Sir," the pilot replied, swiveling slightly to look back at him.
"Maintain course for two timeparts, then drop to normal space."
"Yes, sir." She turned to her instrumentation and commenced programming.
"Defense?"
"Ready, sir."
"Place ship on third degree alert, one degree of uncertainty. Personnel, sound stations for drop to normal space."
The bridge was a quiet maze of moving multidigited arms and legs as the command crew scrambled smoothly to comply with the sudden rush of orders. There was no confusion, no uncertainty to the preparations. Not like the first time, Broh thought ruefully. Now everyone knew precisely what was expected. They worked without hint of excitement, the thrill of such encounters having been dulled by numerous similar incidents that invariably proved to be of minor scientific utility.
Soon the computer called up the count from engineering. "Bite ... one, two, three ... ," and on toward eight and the drop from Space Plus. Broh braced himself in the captain's saddle.
There was a violent wrench, the ship shuddered like a leaf in a whirlwind, and Broh was certain his insides would spill out through his mouth. The nausea passed with merciful speed and no unseemly regurgitation. The forward observation port showed relaxed, normal stars of recognizable color and shape instead of the ghostly auras that had earlier marked their location. Nothing else was visible via the port, but the search screens were alive with information. "Scanner," he called briskly, "do you have the object?"
"Coming up on screen one, sir."
The large screen set on the wall to the left of the port flickered momentarily. Then the subject of their temporary drop from Space Plus became visible and the attitudes of those who could spare a moment from their assignments changed drastically. Startled clicks echoed through the bridge. The object was not an asteroid, or a comet head.
Analysis confirmed what the eye supposed: the object was largely metallic. Further information merely confirmed the obvious. The artifact was a ship. Three cones formed the front section of the vessel, attached by struts and beams to a sphere. The arrangement hinted at a different, but not radically so, propulsive system.
The senior science council had arrived on the bridge, drawn from their studies by the announcement of the forthcoming sublight encounter. Now they crowded next to the captain's position and stared at the screen. There were three of them, in age all quite senior to Broh. They waited, however, for him to make the proper command inquiries.
Now more than ever in his brief and comparatively uneventful career, Broh was aware of his lack of experience. Not that he would permit that to show. In some ways the science council outranked him. He was grateful for that. It would allow him to ask obvious questions without seeming stupid.
"AAnn or related design?" he asked sharply.
"No," replied the first observer. She studied the screen intently. "At least, not of any AAnn designs I've ever seen. The projection fans for such we must assume they are quite different from ours or the AAnn's, though somewhat more similar to the AAnn's."
"Also the number of projection units three is the same as the AAnn employ." The second observer pointed toward the image and described silhouettes in the air. "But see, they are far more flat than ours or the AAnn's. I wonder how that affects the field that wraps around the ship in Space Plus." He muttered about the displacement of reality and other arcane matters that were as much solipsistic and metaphysical as hard science.
Of course, there was no firm boundary between reality and unreality when one was dealing with such concepts as Space Plus and Space Minus. When brilliant generalists like the three observers got together, even theology sometimes took on the aspect of a hard sci
ence.
The alien vessel grew steadily larger and magnification was correspondingly reduced until finally they found themselves looking at a real size image.
"Try signaling," the third observer suggested.
"What frequency?" Communications asked.
"All," Broh said. "Try standard hive channels first, then AAnn frequencies."
"But the first observer already has said it's not a recognizable AAnn type, sir."
Broh ignored the insubordination. "It may be a new type," he responded. "Or an ally of the AAnn we know nothing of."
"If it's an ally," the scanner commented, "it's been badly treated." Screen two, to the right of the viewport, suddenly came to life with a close up of the alien's fore section. Two of the three cone shaped units had been badly damaged. Broh requested an analysis and opinion of the damage.
"It could have been meteoric material, but I think not," said the analyzer. "See the way the metal folds and twists back on itself there at the leading edges? And there, along the support beams, surely that's the mask of heavy energy weaponry."
"Possibly," murmured the first observer. She was more interested now in the after section of the ship.
"No response to inquiries, sir," Communications announced. Broh mulled that over. Coupled with the signs of severe damage, everything indicated that they were looking at a dead ship, a wandering derelict. Ire put the thought to the council.
"It could be a clever trap," suggested the second observer. "The damage could have been falsified to lure us close enough to be taken before we had a chance to signal. Such a ploy would be typical of the AAnn."
"If that's the case," said Broh, "we'll know in less than a timepart."
If the alien was a thangner hiding in its silken burrow, it was a most patient one. It continued to coast as they approached, its engines apparently quite dead. Not a hint of energy issued from the three cone projectors.
Nor Crystal Tears Page 3