“They are doing so,” Dan assured the Vahnaj.
Meej craned his neck and pointed to two big panels framing the matter transmitter’s open panel. “Is see thing. To look at the many-fathers-ago. Evil Ones see through Big Dark. I stop! Break!” and he hurled his club into the right-hand panel. It rebounded, hitting Meej, making him whimper.
“Plainly it’ll take something a lot stronger than that to break it,” Feo said unnecessarily. “Look at it. Not a scratch.”
“He said they can watch us,” Dan muttered. “Damn. I didn’t expect that. They could be watching us right now, comparing us with a garbled message that robot sent...”
“This is so?” Praedar wondered absently.
“I don’t know. ” Dan thought hard, checking local time, mentally plotting star maps. Where was the planet’s rotational line and orbit at this time of the year? How did the time factors coordinate with the unknown stellar regions beyond the Terran-Whimed fringes? “It might depend on straight-shot transmission,” he said, “of subspace com—or whatever they’re using. And maybe of matter transmitting, too. They might have to be precisely aligned in order to travel...”
Ito was no longer a disinterested journalist. “Zap it!”
“Yeah! With what? And get zapped back?” Dan snarled. “If they can fold space that superbly, who knows what else they can do?”
“It seems beyond reason,” Feo said. “That such a species ... Why didn’t they follow their escaped slaves centuries ago?”
Kat didn’t want to take her eyes off Meej, but she rounded on Feo. “Think! The N’lacs certainly did. They smashed these machines as they smashed the robot. And their legends speak often of the damage the many-fathers-ago left behind them, on the Old Ones’ world—sabotage of a sort, a delayed fuse or something. That’s possible, isn’t it, Dan?”
“Mm. In most technologies, sure. Makes sense.” He nodded, as absorbed as Kat was in keeping an eye on Meej. “A lot of sense. Blow up the door on the other side of the Big Dark—and scramble its settings, so that the masters couldn’t know exactly where the escapees had run to...”
Praedar said, “Many, many planets. Humanoid life. So many species seized as prey. To the Old Ones, it is likely humanoids resemble one another, no matter how individual we seem to ourselves. Yes. By destroying opposite entries to the Big Dark and destroying the data by which they might be located, the many-fathers-ago guarded their freedom.”
“Until we got unlucky,” Dan finished. “If that robot had missed this solar system, this world, the N’lacs might still be safe—and so would we.”
“Five minutes.. ,”a watchdog in the complex noted. “Atmo count is going up. Better get ready to abandon the dome ...”
“We can’t!” Kat wailed. “We’ve just begun to...”
Sheila broke in. “Dammit, Olmstead, I’m seeing the same readings they are in the complex. They’re not kidding. You’ve got to get out of there. You wouldn’t like decompression. Not a bit!”
Meej was ignoring the exchange. Suddenly he pressed his hands against the side of his head. “They come for us. Evil Old Ones. Gome see. They see us hands and come to take.” He dithered, running into the room’s shadows, then bravely venturing forth again to sit directly in front of the “see thing” panels, as if he were posing, acting as bait, despite his terror.
“Yes!” Praedar repeated, a gleam in his starburst eyes. “They wish to satisfy their curiosity. Aaaa! Perhaps they are not so alien, in that regard. They will look. Then they will come.”
“We don’t know that, luxury,” Feo argued. “Whitcomb’s right. Be sensible. Assuming these aliens exist, it’s folly to remain here, at their...” Had he intended to use the word “mercy”? That didn’t seem appropriate, in view of Chuss’ death and that of the yacht crew.
“I will receive them,” Praedar stated flatly. His mind was made up.
Dan was aware, even as he participated in the frantic attempt to dissuade the boss, that they weren’t going to budge him. Kat begged, “Don’t throw your life away like this. You saw what it can do. We have to get out of here, make plans ...”
“No time,” Praedar countered, imperturbable. Softening a bit, he smiled at the Terrans. “I will not die.”
“Get out of there!” Sheila yelled faintly. “You’ll get the bends...”
“Not Whimeds,” the expedition’s leader retorted.
“You, too, if the atmospheres build high enough,” she threw back at him, furious with his stubbornness.
Feo said, “If we join forces, we can remove him bodily...” The look Praedar gave him froze Saunder. None of the felin-oid’s teammates were so rash as to second Feo’s suggestion. Praedar talked to the relay monitors. “Sheila, bring an injector gun. Extreme potency. Drastil, bring me my oryuz and a pressure suit.” The paramed resisted, briefly, before yielding. Drastil didn’t quibble for even a moment. Praedar turned to Armilly and Ruieb-An. “You preserve special knowledge. Kat preserves. Dan does. You will withdraw. It is possible I am wrong. You will reinterpret the data and present it. Generations to come must be informed of the truth.”
The peculiar air was flooding the dome now, plainly entering from the matter transmitting chamber.
Near tears, Kat exclaimed, “Don’t, please don’t..
“Remove! Terrans, Vahnajes, and Lannon.”
Dan had to carry Kat into the airlock and push her and Feo on through into the tunnel. Armilly, Ruieb-An, and Ito had preceded them. Instead of following the crowd, Dan temporarily sealed the door, locking himself in the dome with Praedar and Meej.
On one of the monitors, he saw tiny figures under the glow of solar lamps. It was full dark in N’lac Valley by this time. Sheila, running, met Drastil on the dud pits apron. The blonde handed the Whimed a med kit. Drastil added it to an armload he was already toting, then hurried up Dome Hill. He passed Kat and the other observers, who were on their way out of the temples. They clustered near the painted ramp wall, talking excitedly.
“Terrans must leave,” Praedar said. “The atmosphere is becoming inimicable to your species.” He darted a disapproving glance at Dan.
“I’ve still got a few minutes. I need to talk to you—while I can. Face to face, the way you want to meet the Evil Old Ones. You plan to capture one, don’t you? With that injector gun.” Dan grimaced. “That’s insane. Hell, we don’t know if humanoid medicines will have any effect on those things at all. Kat’s right. You’re going to let your curiosity kill you.”
“I will not die,” Praedar said tonelessly.
Drastil cycled through the airlock and brought his superior his burdens. Praedar methodically began to don his pressure suit. The shorter Whimed stood by, an orderly attending his general, who was about to engage in a life-or-death battle.
Dan stared at a silvery crest cap Drastil was holding. “That’s the oryuz device, isn’t it? A Whimed anti-esp defense.”
Both felinoids glowered at him, unhappy that he recognized the gadget. “How do you know of this?” Praedar growled.
“I saw it in your office, weeks ago. One of my kinsmen, Anthony Saunder, discovered the oryuz when he became involved in the Whimed-Vahnaj secret war, around the turn of the century.” Praedar nodded, mollified by the explanation. Dan went on. “It works for you, sure, against the Vahnajes’ mental power-force enhancers...”
Reverently Praedar lowered the silvery cap onto his crest. “The device belonged to my grandsire. He used it ethically. I will do so, as well.”
“Injector guns!” Humanoid anti-esp devices!” Dan said, frustrated. “Those aren’t going to work against nonanthropomorphic beings.”
“That is to be established,” Praedar replied, with a smile. He took the pressure suit helmet from Drastil and prepared to put it on.
“We need a backup plan,” Dan said a bit desperately. There was an intensifying weight on his chest—the strange air was oppressing him.
The Whimeds met his stare. The minute stretched into eternity. Then Praedar said, “Yo
u are correct. This is what you proposed earlier? To smash the wall with the dredge? That also puts you at risk. It would cause explosive decompression. You would be seated at the dredge’s controls, vulnerable to the results.”
Dan was astonished, scarcely believing his ears. The Whimed was amenable! He hadn’t turned the plan down flat, as a desecration of xenoarchaeological treasures. Praedar acted as if he’d accept the backup scheme. He wasn’t beyond reason—and he wasn’t being blindly suicidal.
“I-I’m willing to take the risk. I’ll wear a suit, too. It’ll offer some protection,” Dan said.
Praedar held up a cautioning finger. “Only if I fail.”
“Okay! Okay! I promise!” At that stage, Dan would have agreed to damned near anything. He felt weak with relief and wondered why. His backup plan was no guarantee of success. None of this was. They might still end up in the Evil Old Ones’ slave camps—they and untold other humanoid millions. “Look, if the injector gun and the esp headgear don’t work, try to hang onto your initiative,” he said. “Try to get out of my way. I’ll watch you on the monitors, and if you’re in trouble, I’ll come through about here—in a hurry.”
“If I fail,” Praedar reiterated. “Only if I fail.”
“What about Meej?” the xenomech asked. The N’lac continued to crouch before the matter transmitter’s door—waiting for revenge, or death.
Praedar regarded the boy fondly. “He remains. You and Dras-til go. But Meej is the leader of his tribe now. He has the right to decide on their behalf. The child of slaves must defy those who enslaved his people.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
To Destroy the Ages
The area was far too crowded, in Dan’s opinion. People stood outside the complex, spilling across the dud pits, looking toward Dome Hill. The excavation apron along the crest was full of more observers and helpers. They divided their attention between Dan and an assortment of vid monitors. The scientists, with Kimball’s guidance, had set the things up everywhere. No one, in or out of shelter, was far from one.
As Dan squirmed into a pressure suit he, like the rest, kept watch on the scene inside the main dome. Praedar and Meej were waiting. The Whimed was fully suited and helmeted, the injector gun at the ready. Meej knelt facing the matter transmitter’s door. Neither felinoid nor N’lac seemed bothered by the steadily increasing atmospheres and the alien air’s composition.
“Tough people,” Sheila commented. She, Kat, and Baines were assisting Dan into the borrowed spacesuit. His own, of course, had been atomized in the explosion. Sheila frowned at the monitors. “Tough and crazy people. Whimeds are a lot stronger than Terrans, sure. And N’lacs have never fully readapted to the local air after those genetic alterations the Old Ones inflicted on them. So presumably Meej is geared for the alien pressure. But if you smash through that wall...” The blonde tugged on a suit seal, testing its closure, her face set in a fierce scowl. “Come to that, I don’t think you can take that. This outfit was made to protect humans in a vacuum, not explosive decompression side effects and flying metalostone.”
Dan shrugged. “So keep your fingers crossed. Maybe the injector gun will work fine. Praedar will nail his specimen and we’ll all celebrate. Maybe Feo’s right, for once, and this is a false alarm. Maybe there are no more Old Ones. Or maybe they can’t get their matter transmission coordinates lined up as they used to. Two millennia is a long time. Precession of the equinoxes, galactic rotation—lots of things could prevent them from coining...”
“Huh! And maybe if I flap my arms, I can fly,” Sheila said. “Sorry the suit doesn’t fit better,” Baines apologized. “I’m the closest to your size in camp, though, so.
“It’s fine. I’ll try to bring it back in one piece.”
“Bring yourself back in one piece,” Kat said. She glanced at the vid shots of the dome’s interior. “And bring them back.”
“I’ll sure as hell try...”
Armilly had reestablished his remote probe station near the ramp. Now he boomed, “Energy thingoo inside big box. Changes stuff...” Kimball cued zoom closeups of the scene. Dan saw that the little suns and planets suspended in the matter transmitter were accelerating. The hurtful glare was sharpening, as well.
“We’ve just run out of time,” Dan yelled. “Get clear. All of you!”
“We belong here!” Kat exclaimed defiantly. “We’re staying! Whatever happens...”
Sheila nodded. “Damned right! We’ll see it through. You go, we all go. And if either Praedar’s scheme or yours works out, somebody’s going to need a paramed. That’s me, for damned sure!”
“What did you say about crazy people?” Dan asked sarcastically. He broke into a run, jamming the suit helmet down on its neck ring. Praedar’s voice hissed from the helmet’s audio circuits. The face plate was open.
As Dan loped toward the dredge, Sheila’s parting shot competed with the Whimed’s dispassionate, scientific running account of events inside the dome. “Give the fornicating bastards hell! Go get ’em! Kroo-ger! Go get ’em!”
Minutes before, Dan had driven the vacuum dredge onto the sandy triangle between the ramp and the tunnel. The rig waited for him there now, ten meters from the dome. That wouldn’t give him much of a momentum-building ram run, but he intended to bypass certain safety factors and add to the machine’s striking power.
The bulky suit made him clumsy. Dan boosted himself up into the cab with a grunt and slid behind the controls. Feo was already there, sitting beside him. “What the hell?” Dan muttered. “Get out of here. This is my job.”
“I know, and I’m not trying to take anything from you.” Saunder’s expression was pinched. A sickly green glow from a full-range bank of dashboard monitors added to the effect. It was plain that Feo was scared. Dan didn’t blame him. “I-I have to talk to you. Just for a moment. I have to...”
There was an earnestness about him that got through to Dan. Feo had been stripped of pretense and prestige. This was the man, down to his basics. The unspoken reality hung between them—that this might be their last chance to exchange words— ever.
“Okay. Make it quick ...”
“I-I may have been mistaken about you, about Juxury, and about your father.”
Dan was splitting his attention among the array of onboard monitors Kimball had arranged, showing every angle on multiple screens. A tracery of data updates crawled at the bottom of the frames: pressure analyses; air composition; audio tracks of Praedar’s incoming accounts; biomed stats on the Whimed and Meej; and the time factor.
Despite those compelling demands on his mind and emotions, Dan turned aside for a second, peering at his cousin.
Feo nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that, ever since the Assembly. It... it could have been a matter of misconceptions, of crossed interpretations, like Hope’s and my dispute with Juxury, all these years. There’s so much to regret. Looking back, I can see that... I didn’t mean to hurt Reid. Spirit of Humanity, no! None of us realized how serious his financial situation was until... and then... He was proud and offended, understandably. If... if we get out of this, I’m going to try to make it up to him. And to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Dan said, trying for a light note. He didn’t make it. His focus darted back to the monitor boards as he said, “You’re a bigger person than I thought. I’ve misjudged you, too. You’re right. Let’s not go into this hating each other.”
“I’ve never hated you,” Feo said. “I... what Kat and your other teammates have told me... I didn’t know how capable you were. It’s a crime you’ve been hampered by lack of funds. You’re another Ward Saunder, Dan. You ought to get a chance to show the entire sector your talents...”
Praedar’s running descriptions came from the helmet speakers. A dozen other voices were on the monitors, along with the data flow printout. Dan absorbed them all and savored his kinsman’s words.
So he was a full-fledged member of the T-W 593 expedition and, at least in one man’s eyes, a full-fledged me
mber of the Saunder-McKelvey s.
Dan wished this acceptance had come at a more auspicious time!
“Yeah, that’s me. An inventive genius in a tech-mech’s suit. I’d love to introduce this matter-transmitting alien technology to the humanoid civilizations. What a joke! Leapfrogging into our own future, using a nonanthropomorphic species’ devices.” He paused, listening intently to some of the flood of reports, then added, “But our species and theirs have worked together before. Humanoids built the Old Ones’ machines. That robot was built by descendents of Chuss’ ancestors.”
“His own kindred,” Feo murmured, appalled.
“You and I, cousin, could end up in the same cage. Our Saunder and McKelvey descendents could build robot demons to enforce continued slavery on our however-many-times-removed grandchildren.”
“No! Never!” Feo cried.
On the monitors, Meej was saying excitedly “Smell thick thick! Not like place Joe make for our mother. Old One smell! Soon soon!”
Sheila’s face filled one of the screens. “He’s not kidding, Dan. There’s a big increase in pressure...”
Dan held out a hand and Feo took it in a firm, encouraging grip. “Thanks, for what you said about Dad. Better make yourself scarce now. I’m going to be busy...”
Saunder jumped out of the cab and ran back as far as the ramp. He stood there with the other daring observers, waiting to pick up the pieces—or face utter defeat.
Kat, Sheila, Baines, Armilly, Ruieb-An, all the expedition’s Whimed members, Feo, Rosie, and the two reporters ...
Dan had to give the latter credit. Like the Saunders, they’d found reserves in themselves they probably hadn’t known that they possessed. Ito had screwed her courage to the sticking point. She was speaking softly into a candid vid pendant, assembling an in-depth eyewitness report for the Terran network. Kimball simultaneously maintained a survey on the dozens of monitor relays and fine-tuned his master holo camera, intent on capturing all the action.
Juanita Coulson - Children of the Stars 04 Page 36