Emprise

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  “Don’t follow,” Rankin said sharply as Joanna made a move in that direction. “That brew has been bubbling since we left Unity.” She hesitated, then pushed herself down toward the empty seat. “I’m afraid I am responsible for turning up the heat.”

  Charan led as the two men moved from mod B into the drive core through one hatchway and a third of the way around its perimeter to a similar aperture.

  “What would you consider proof?” asked Charan, stopping there.

  “I was told repeatedly that you are the expert on the ship’s systems. If you are unable to open it from inside, I will be confident that no alien will be able to.”

  Charan nodded deferentially and pulled himself through the hatchway, then rotated his body to face Wenyuan. “Then lock it.”

  “As you will.” Wenyuan pressed a switch to the right of the opening and drifted back as the curved door slid sideways across the hatchway, then forward to seal the opening.

  Charan went quickly to the terminal.

  “Try now,” Wenyuan said through the intercom.

  mp lockout

  fool’s mate

  done

  “There is no way to unlock it,” Charan called back. “There is no access to the mechanism, no seams through which to attack the stays. There are no tools for cutting or prying. The lock draws its power directly from the drive core. Short of burning through both hulls, which there are also no tools for, the locks do their job quite thoroughly.”

  “Still, I think I had better allow some time for your fertile mind to consider the problem,” Wenyuan replied. Charan could almost hear the gloating smile.

  mp freezeout

  fool’s mate

  done

  “The risks you propose to take are unacceptable,” Wenyuan continued. “We have already sent the crucial intelligence to our leaders. Now the first priority is survival.”

  Charan floated by the terminal with crossed arms as though resting in an easy chair and laughed. “You’re afraid, Major. I hadn’t expected that of you.”

  “I’m afraid that insults will not be sufficient to make me open this door.”

  “I don’t want you to open it.”

  “We cannot permit them aboard. I will not allow their shuttle to approach. We will keep our distance until and unless they agree to allow you aboard their ship. If they continue to refuse, I will take Pride of Earth back home as quickly as possible so that it can be armed before Jiadur arrives. Any risk that they may take over this ship is too great a risk.”

  “This ship has already been taken, Major—by me. You invited me to try to unlock the hatch. I invite you to try the same.”

  “I am not fool enough to be taken in by such a transparent trick.”

  “You have already been taken in,” Charan said. He switched the bridge in on their conversation. “This is Charan in mod E. By the order of the Chairman of the Pangaean Consortium, I have placed this vessel under new mission protocols. As part of those protocols, all communications and certain ship functions are now controlled exclusively by me until this critical period is over.”

  “This is the kind of high-handedness I expected from the Major, not you,” protested Rankin.

  “Perhaps it will console you to know I merely anticipated his intent. The Major was prepared to run back to Earth without learning any more about the Journans than we know now.”

  “When they receive our report of your ignominy, the people of Earth will see that for the falsehood it is,” Wenyuan said smoothly.

  “Whether the Major is right or not, when this flashes on the NET it’s going to tear a rift right down the middle of the Consortium,” Rankin said angrily. “What was Rashuri thinking?”

  “No one will know,” Charan said calmly. “Except for basic systems telemetry, all transmissions to Earth have been interrupted. We’ll evaluate our encounter with the Joumans as it progresses and make our report afterward.”

  There was no answer. The others had fallen silent, each finding the thoughts they entertained beyond verbalizing. Charan found the silence awkward, a condemnation of a measure he had been reluctant to take. He wanted to tell them what he would do next, but he did not need their assistance and could not expect their approval. He yearned to shift the focus of then-hostility to Rashuri, who had written the script Charan was now playing out.

  But he did none of those things. There was only one factor remaining on the right side of the equation, only one issue that mattered: a rendezvous with the approaching shuttle and its Journan pilot. With the weary reluctance of one who has gone too far down a wrong path to turn back, Tilak Charan turned to the task at hand.

  Doppler radar gave the closing velocity of the Journan shuttle at a mere 25 kps. At that speed, it would cover barely two million kilometres a day, and take nearly ten days to crawl across to Pride of Earth.

  Charan found that unacceptably slow, both from the standpoint of the risk to the Journan and for the amount of time it allowed Wenyuan to try turning the tables. In a ten-hour maneuver, Charan closed to within 800,000 kilometres of Jiadur, at which point the shuttle was just eight hours away physically and two and a half seconds away electronically.

  While Charan was so engaged, Wenyuan made seven separate attempts to enter mod E or wrest back control of the ship. Rankin duly informed Charan of each attempt as it occurred, seeing his contribution as preventing not the attempts but any dangerous surprises that might result if one were successful.

  But the mode of all Wenyuan’s efforts had been anticipated—protected against by Moraji and tested by a three-man tiger team during final checkout. Wenyuan’s only real option was to use his access to the drive core to disable the ship completely, but he gave it only the briefest passing consideration. He did not intend to die on a derelict; even admitting failure was more palatable than that alternative. And in time, admitting failure was the only choice left.

  Charan was keeping the airwaves between Pride of Earth and the Journan shuttle busy with an improvised verbal version of one of the first lessons which had been prepared for use with the communications link: an introduction to basic chemistry.

  The lesson presumed that the Joumans understood chemistry; what was needed was some way of intelligibly discussing it. Charan could not simply ask about biological requirements, for instance. There was no guarantee that the answer would be meaningful. What was needed were labels both could understand, beginning with the names of the elements. So Charan laboriously outlined the periodic chart from hydrogen to uranium, using a century-old concept of atomic structure, which though outdated had the virtue of simplicity.

  Ryuka-voice—Charan thought it a seductive trap to think of the humanlike voice as the alien itself and so resisted—was patient and cooperative. It shared the Journan words for elements freely, evinced excitement when understanding of a troublesome idea was reached. The Joumans had obviously gleaned much from monitoring Earth’s radio and television signals, and that knowledge speeded the process.

  Nevertheless, the shuttle was alongside before they were done. Charan realized suddenly that he was exhausted, not having slept since well before the first Journan message had been received forty hours ago. But he gave no thought to postponing what was at hand. He moved into the meeting chamber and activated its systems.

  Holding station fifteen metres off mod E, the shuttle performed a quarter-turn, revealing the rectangular seam of a hatchway to one of Pride of Earth’s telescanner ports.

  “I will come aboard your ship now,” Ryuka-voice said. “It will take me a short period to dress.”

  “If you’re talking about getting into a spacesuit, there’s no need. I can connect our ships with a transfer tunnel.”

  “By the Grace of the Founders, so be it.”

  Charan had practiced with the teleoperated tunnel before leaving Unity, though they had left Unity before he had achieved anything approaching expertise. Extending the tunnel amounted to using small thrusters to “fly” the grappling end to the hull of th
e other ship. The low-mass ribbed tunnel was flexible but still exerted torque, complicating matters. It took Charan the better part of thirty minutes to secure the tunnel in place.

  “I will come aboard your ship now,” Ryuka-voice said.

  “I need to prepare the place where we will meet,” Charan said. “What type of atmosphere do you require? Please specify the elements and the proportions.”

  “Commander, I beg you. Stop now. This is wrong,” Joanna pleaded with him on ship’s intercom. “I was to represent us.”

  “I am sorry, Scion. You will have to content yourself with watching this first time. I hope that you will have your chance before long—wait, please. Ryuka-voice is answering.”

  “Is this a test, Commander Charan?” Ryuka-voice said. “There have been no changes since the Founding. We are all in the Image. I breathe as you breathe.”

  Charan had no chance to ponder that, for Ryuka continued, “Please open your hatch. I am entering the tunnel now.”

  “No, Charan,” Wenyuan said sharply.

  Charan switched off the intercom, wishing for a camera that would show him the view down the transfer tunnel. But there was none. Their first glimpses of the Senders were to have come via the com link. No surprises were ever expected to traverse the transfer tunnel. Or had Eddington been right? Perhaps there would be no surprises.

  Ryuka had set the pace of the encounter, Charan realized. From the first it had been impatient, insistent on a face-to-face meeting. How would it react if Charan delayed opening the hatch? With anger, or new respect?

  Then he wondered what delay would gain him. He knew that he would open the hatch in time. Why did he hesitate? Was he simply reluctant to be rushed by the Sender captain?

  I’m afraid, Charan thought with sudden realization. And under scrutiny, the fear evaporated like dew in morning sun. Charan reached out his hand, and the tunnel hatch ground open.

  And the Sender Ryuka floated through the opening and into the far side of the meeting chamber.

  Scion Joanna began to weep freely.

  Major Wenyuan cursed loudly and vigorously, sprinkling his speech with invective from a dozen Chinese dialects. Dr. Rankin pressed his steepled hands to his lips with sufficient force to drive the blood from them.

  Tilak Charan stared, his heart racing. He was enveloped in a special moment of awe, as though he were witness to one of the, great circles of life coming to a close. For the first time since Pride of Earth undocked at Unity, Charan would not have chosen to be anywhere else.

  The Sender Ryuka pressed up against the dividing wall near the airlock, a hopeful look in his eyes.

  Charan moved toward the airlock, wondering for the briefest moment if what he saw could be one final deception. Then he slid the stays aside and pulled open the airlock.

  The human and Sender ceremonial embraces were different, and the result was awkward. But Charan was nevertheless overcome by a rush of emotions for which he had no label and with which he had no experience, and he had no doubt that Ryuka felt the same. For the tunnel hatch had opened to admit, not alien, but man.

  Chapter 21

  * * *

  New Equation

  “You are truly as was said,” Ryuka said, wiping tears from the age-lined corners of his eyes. He clung to Charan’s hands, unwilling to give up contact, and the two turned slowly in midair like a human carousel. “When your world’s voices fell silent we feared for you. Then this ship appeared so suddenly, and you did not speak with the Eye of the Founders.”

  “You mean television signals—like you sent us.”

  “Yes. Sialkot thought—”

  “Sialkot?”

  “She. is my lifemate. Sialkot thought your ship a tool of war. We knew the Founders had known war. We feared it had consumed you.”

  “So that’s why you were so slow to answer—why you insisted on meeting me.”

  “We feared for ourselves and for our trust.”

  “What would you have done if your fears had been realized?” An embarrassed expression crossed Ryuka’s face. “It was my part to attempt to destroy this ship.”

  “So that Jiadur could continue on in safety,” Charan mused. “I trust you have given up that notion. As we said in our first transmission, we were sent to welcome you to Earth space.”

  “All is as I hoped and prayed. Please—I must call to Sialkot and tell her.”

  A momentary flash of anxiety chilled Charan. “You may use our radio for that. This way,” Charan said forcefully, leading the way into the other compartment. He touched the switch-studded panel twice. “You can speak to her now.”

  “Beloved Sialkot—by the Grace of the Founders, they are as we are. Set aside your fears and rejoice as I am rejoicing. It is the gathering at last.”

  A few seconds later an answer came back, a woman’s voice, silky and breathless.

  “Ryuka—by the Grace of the Founders, we are blessed indeed. I share your joy in this moment of fulfillment, and care for the trust until your return.”

  Ryuka looked to Charan. “It is enough, for now. She understands. There will be more to say later.”

  “Ryuka—why did you talk the way you did?”

  The Sender looked suddenly pained. “Have I given offense? Please—I will correct my errors.”

  “You’ve given no offense, Ryuka. It’s just that I expected you to use your own language to talk to Sialkot.”

  Ryuka’s dismay deepened into abject horror. “Were we to keep the old languages? It was presumptuous—please do not judge us—of course—of course—the Voice of the Founders belongs to the Founders alone. It will be corrected.”

  Charan reached out a comforting hand and grasped Ryuka’s shoulder. “You still misunderstand. I know how you must have learned our language, English. I realize why you used it to call to us and why you use it now. But why do you use it with Sialkot?”

  Ryuka turned his head away, ashamed. “We took the language out of respect. We meant only to honor the Founders.”

  “To honor us?”

  “Yes. To honor the Founders.”

  It was only then that Charan began to consider that the Journan’s many references to the Founders were not casual expressions in the vein of “God knows” and “good God” but references to Charan’s crew, his species, some sort of twisted theological fantasy which had grown up during the Senders’ long voyage. Charan could not say he was surprised, all the yardsticks by which he measured the known world having been broken when Ryuka first appeared. But he was illuminated by the realization.

  “Let me hear your native tongue,” he said gently.

  A cascade of mellifluous sound poured from Ryuka’s throat. It was delicate, sibilant, evocative.

  “Beautiful,” Charan said.

  “You are too generous. I stumbled badly. It has been a very long time.”

  “It was beautiful, nonetheless.” Charan grasped Ryuka’s hands again. “I want to meet Sialkot and the rest of your crew, and to have you meet the rest of mine. I want you to show me the Jiadur. I want to talk with you about a thousand things. But first I need to sleep. Will you return to your shuttle for a few hours to allow me that?” He asked as much to confirm a suspicion as from real need.

  “Of course, Founder Charan. Of course. I will wait for your call.” With no hesitation, Ryuka released his hands and moved gracefully through the airlock and into the tunnel.

  Charan closed the tunnel hatch after him, noting as he did so that the ship’s intercom was still switched off. He left it that way, knowing that the others had watched and listened and would be bursting to talk, but feeling too weary to face them.

  Mod E had neither toilet facilities nor sleep gear, but Charan did not care. In a storage locker he found an extra waste kit from the walkoid spacesuit, which met one’s needs adequately if not elegantly. Then he darkened the meeting chamber, curled into a loose fetal position, and fell soundly asleep. Neither the air currents carrying him gently into the walls nor his frenzied dreams ma
naged to disturb him.

  Charan slept for more than ten hours and awoke yearning for ten minutes in a shower and two minutes with a toothbrush. Neither amenity was available, and so he made do with a scrap of cloth moistened with water from the walkoid cooling circuit.

  Then he drew a deep breath and called the bridge. It was Rankin, and to Charan’s surprise he did not sound angry. “Morning, Commander. I was beginning to wonder how long you’d be sacked out.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “In their compartments, I think. Scheming and sulking, respectively. I’m to call them when you resume contact.”

  “Why don’t you wait a few minutes before you do?”

  “That was my intent—I have some questions, and I’d rather not fight them for the mike,” Rankin said. “Commander, you touched it. Was the body temperature higher or lower than your own?” Charan was nonplussed by the question. “That wasn’t something I stopped to take notice of.”

  “What about smell, then? Were there any unusual odors in the compartment?” Rankin pressed.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I was just hoping you could help. You opened the airlock so quickly I wasn’t able to analyze its contribution to the atmosphere—its respiration byproducts and so forth.”

  “You talk as if he wasn’t human.”

  “How could it be, Commander? How could it be?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that when you’re in the room with him, no alarm bells ring, no little voices shout warnings. Everything feels right.”

  “That feeling could come from outside—from it.”

  “Albert—”

  “A lot of the time you spent sleeping, we spent talking. Joanna’s got her own ideas as usual, but the Major and I, well, we agree that you’re not seeing what you think you are. We want to see you pass over the com link and move us a safe distance away. It’s gotten the meeting that it asked for. No need to turn it into a seminar.”

  “You don’t want a tissue sample?”

  “Want? Of course I want one. But it won’t give you one. It would be the giveaway.”