by David Brin
"Where are they now?" Takkata-Jim demanded.
"Bassskin entered the main bay, with Wattaceti. Hiss-kaa is off, spreading rumorsss throughout the ship. Keepiru took a sled and breathers and is gone!"
"Gone where?"
"Back-k-k out-t-t!" Suppeh wailed. His command of Anglic was rapidly dissolving. Takkata-Jim took advantage of what composure the purser had left.
"Have Heurka-pete awaken Doctor Metz. Have Metz meet me at sick bay with three guards. You are to go to the dry-wheel dressing room, with Sawtoot, and let-t no one enter! Understood?"
Suppeh nodded vigorously, and his image vanished.
Takkata-Jim prayed that Heurka-pete would have the sense to recall Moki and Haoke and send them after Keepiru. Together, between Haoke's brains and Moki's feral ruthlessness, they might be able to cut the pilot off before he reached the Thennanin wreck.
Why isn't K'tha-Jon back yet? I chose him to go after that middie in order to get him out of the ship for a while. I was afraid he was becoming dangerous even to me. I wanted some time to organize without him around. But now the Baskin woman's returned sooner than I expected. Maybe I should have kept K'tha-Jon around. The giant's talents might be useful about now.
Takkata-Jim whistled the door open and swam out into the hall. He faced a confrontation he had hoped to put off for at least another forty hours, if not indefinitely.
Should I have seen to Creideiki before this? It would have been easy ... a power failure in his gravity tank, a switched catheter ... Metz would not approve, but there was already much of which Metz did not know. Much that Takkata-Jim wished he didn't know.
He swam hard for the intrahull lift.
Maybe I won't need K'tha-Jon in order to deal with Gillian Baskin, he thought. After all, what can one human female do?
49 ::: The Psi-Bomb
The mound of partly dried weeds formed a dome on the sea of vines. Tom had propped up a low roof using salvaged bits of strutting from his sledge, making a rude cave. He sat in the entrance, waiting in the pre-dawn dimness, and munched on one of his scarce foodbars.
His wounds were cleaned as well as possible, and coated with hardening dabs of medicinal foam. With food in his stomach and some of the pain put down, he almost felt human again.
He examined his small osmotic still. The upper part, a clear bag with a filtered spout at one end, held a thick layer of saltwater and sludge. Below the filter, one of his canteens sat almost filled.
Tom looked at his watch. Only five minutes remained. There was no time to dip for another load of scummy water to feed the still. He wouldn't even be able to clean the filters before the bomb went off.
He picked up the canteen, screwed its cap tight, and slipped it into a thigh pouch. He popped the filter out of its frame and shook most of the sludge out before folding it tightly and tucking it under his belt. The filter probably didn't take out all the dissolved metal salts in the water. It hadn't been designed with Kithrup in mind. Nonetheless, the little package was probably his most valuable possession.
Three minutes, the glowing numbers on his watch told him.
Tom looked up at the sky. There was a vague brightening in the east, and the stars were starting to fade. It would be a clear morning, and therefore bitterly cold. He shivered and zipped the wetsuit tight. He pulled in his knees.
One minute.
When it came it would be like the loudest sound he had ever heard. Like the brightest light. There would be no keeping it out.
He wanted to cover his ears and eyes, as if against a real explosion. Instead, he stared at a point on the horizon and counted, pacing each breath. Deliberately he let himself slide into a trance.
" . . seven ... eight ... nine ... ten ..." A lightness filled his chest. The feeling spread outward, numbing and soothing.
Light from the few stars in the west diffracted spiderweb rays through his barely separated eyelashes as he awaited a soundless explosion.
"Sah'ot, I said I'm ready to take over now!"
Sah'ot squirmed and looked up at Toshio. "Just-t another few minutess, OK? I'm listening to ssssomething!"
Toshio frowned. This was not what he had expected from Sah'ot! He had come to relieve the dolphin linguist early because Sah'ot hated working with the robot probe!
"What's going on, Tosh?"
Dennie sat up in her sleeping bag, rubbing her eyes and peering in the pre-dawn dark.
"I don't know, Dennie. I offered to take over the robot, so Sah'ot wouldn't have to deal with Charlie when he calls. But he refuses to let go."
Dennie shrugged. "Then I'd say that's his business. What do you care, anyway?"
Toshio felt a sharp answer rise to his lips, but he kept them locked and turned away. He would ignore Dennie until she awakened fully and decided to behave civilly.
Dennie had surprised him after Gillian and Keepiru left, by taking his new command without complaint. For the last two days, she hadn't seemed much interested in anything but her microscopes and samples, ignoring even Sah'ot's desultory sexual innuendo, and answering questions in monosyllables.
Toshio knelt by the comm unit attached by cable to Sah'ot's sled. He tapped out a query on the monitor and frowned at the result.
"Sah'ot!" he said severely. "Get over here!"
"In a ssssec ..." The dolphin sounded distracted.
Toshio pursed his lips.
* NOW, you will to HERE
Ingather
* Or shortly cease ALL
Listening further! *
He heard Dennie gasp behind him. She probably didn't understand the Trinary burst in detail, but she got the basic idea. Toshio felt justified. This was a test. He wasn't able to be as subtle as Gillian Baskin, but he had to get obedience or he would be useless as an officer.
Sah'ot stared up at him, blinking dazedly. Then the fin sighed and moved over to the side of the pool.
"Sah'ot, you haven't taken any geological readings in four hours! Yet in that time you've dropped the probe two hundred meters! What's got into you!"
The Stenos rolled from side to side uncertainly. Finally, he spoke softly. "I'm get-tting a sssong ...
The last word faded before Toshio could be sure of it. He looked at the neo-fin civilian, unable to believe his ears. "You're getting a what?"
"A ssssong . .. ?"
Toshio lifted his hands and dropped them to his sides. He's finally cracked, he thought. First Dennie, now Sah'ot. I've been left in charge of two mental cases!
He sensed Dennie approach the pool. "Listen, Sah'ot," Toshio said. "Dr. Dart will be calling soon. What do you think he's going to say when ..."
"I'll take care of Charlie when he calls," Dennie said quietly.
"You?" Dennie had spent the last forty hours cursing over the drill-tree problem she had been assigned, at Takkata-Jim's order and Charles Dart's request. It had almost completely superseded her work with the Kiqui. Toshio couldn't imagine her wanting to talk with the chimpanzee.
"Yes, me. What I have to tell him may make him forget all about the robot, so you just lay off Sah'ot. If he says he heard singing, well, maybe he's heard singing."
Toshio stared at her, then shrugged. Fine. My job is to protect these two, not to correct their scientific blunders. I just hope Gillian straightens things out back at the ship so I can report what's going on here.
Dennie knelt down by the water to talk to Sah'ot. She spoke slowly and earnestly, patient with the Anglic slowness he suffered after his long seance with the robot.
Dennie wanted to dive to look at the core of the metal-mound. Sah'ot agreed to accompany her if she would wait until he had transcribed some more of his "music." Dennie assented, apparently completely unafraid of going into the water with Sah'ot.
Toshio sat down and waited for the inevitable buzz of the comm line from the ship. People were changing overnight, and he hadn't the slightest idea why!
His eyes felt scratchy. Toshio rubbed them, but that didn't seem to help.
He blinked an
d tried to look at Dennie and Sah'ot. The difficulty he was having focusing only seemed to be getting worse. A haziness began to spread between himself and the pool. Suddenly he felt a sense of dread expectancy. Pulsing, it seemed to migrate from the back of his head to a place between his shoulder blades.
He brought his hands to his ears. "Dennie? Sah'ot? Do you ... ?" He shouted the last words, but could barely hear his own voice.
The others looked up at him. Dennie rose and took a step toward him, concern on her face.
Then her eyes opened in wide surprise. Toshio saw a blur of movement at the edges of his field of view. Then there were Kiqui in the forest, charging them through the bushes!
Toshio tried to draw his needler, knowing it was already too late. The aboriginals were already upon them, waving their short arms and screaming in tiny, high-pitched voices. Three plowed into him and two toppled Dennie. He struggled and fell beneath them fighting to keep their slashing claws away from his face while the grating noise erupted in his brain.
Then, in an instant, the Kiqui were gone!
Amidst the grinding roar in his head, Toshio forced himself to turn over and look up.
Dennie tossed back and forth across the ground moaning, clutching at her ears. Toshio feared she had been wounded by Kiqui claws, but when she rolled his way he saw only shallow cuts.
With both shaking hands, he drew his needier. The few Kiqui in sight weren't heading this way, but squealing as they rushed the pool and dove in.
It's not their doing, he realized dimly.
He recognized the "sound" of a thousand fingernails scraping across a blackboard.
A psi attack! We have to hide! Water might cushion the assault. We should dive in, like the abos did!
His head roared as he crawled toward the pool. Then he stopped.
I can't drag Dennie in there, and we can't put on our breathing gear while shaking like this!
He reversed direction until he reached a pool-side tree. He sat up, with his back against the bole. He tried to concentrate, in spite of the crashing in his brain.
Remember what Mr. Orley taught you, middie! Think about your mind, and go within. SEE the enemy's illusions ... listen lightly to his lies ... use the Yin and the Yang ... the twin salvations ... logic to pierce Mara's veil ... and faith to sustain ....
Dennie moaned and rolled in the dust a few meters away. Toshio laid the needler on his lap, to have it ready when the enemy came. He called to Dennie, shouting over the screaming noise.
"Dennie! Listen to your heartbeat! Listen to each breath! They're real sounds! This isn't!"
He saw her turn slightly toward his voice, agony in her eyes as she pressed white bloodless hands over her ears. The shrieking intensified.
"Count your heartbeats, Dennie! They're ... they're like the ocean, like the surf! Dennie!" He shouted. "Have you ever heard any sound that can overcome the surf? Can ... can anything or anybody scream loud enough to keep the tide from laughing back?"
She stared at him, trying. He could see her inhaling deeply, mouthing slowly as she counted.
"Yes! Count, Dennie! Breaths and heartbeats! Is there any sound the tide of your heartbeat can't laugh at?"
She locked onto his eyes, as he anchored himself to hers.
Slowly, as the howling within his head reached its crescendo, Toshio saw her nod faintly and give a faint grateful smile.
Sah'ot felt it too. And even as the psychic wave rolled over him, the pool was suddenly afroth with panicky Kiqui. Sah'ot was inundated by a babel of noise from all around and within. It was worse than being blinded by a searchlight.
He wanted to dive away from the cacophony. Biting back panic, he forced himself to lie still.
He tried to separate the noise into parts, the human contribution first. Dennie and Toshio seemed in worse shape than he. Perhaps they were more sensitive to the assault. There would be no help from them!
The Kiqui were in terror, squawling as they crashed into the pool.
:?: Flee! Flight ...
from the sad great things
:?: Somebody Help
the great sad hurt things!
Out of the mouths of babes ... When he concentrated on it, the "psi attack" did feel a bit like a call for help. It hurt like the hell of the deeps, but he faced it and tried to pin it down.
He thought he was making progress--certainly he was coping -- when still another voice joined in, this one over his neural link! The song from below, that he had spent all night unable to decipher, had awakened. From the bowels of Kithrup it bellowed. Its simplicity commanded understanding.
+ WHO CALLS? -
- WHO DARES BOTHER +
Sah'ot moaned as he tore the robot link free. Three screaming noises, all at different levels of mind, were quite enough. Any more and he would go insane!
Buoult of the Thennanin was afraid, though an officer in the service of the Great Ghosts thought nothing of death or of living enemies.
The shuttle cycled through the lock of his flagship, Quegsfire. The giant doors, comfortingly massive and enduring, swung shut behind them. The shuttle pilot plotted a course to the Tandu flagship.
Tandu.
Buoult flexed his ridge crest as a display of confidence. He would lose heat from the sail of nerves and blood vessels in the frigid atmosphere of the Tandu ship, but it was absolutely necessary to maintain appearances.
It might have been slightly less distasteful to make an alliance with the Soro instead. At least the Soro were more Thennaninoid than the arthropod Tandu, and lived at a decent temperature. Also, the Soro's clients were interesting folk, the sort Buoult's people might have liked to uplift themselves.
Better for them if we had, he thought. For we are kind patrons.
If the leathern Soro were meddlesome and callous, the spindly Tandu were horrifying beings. Their clients were weird creatures that set off twitches at the base of Buoult's tail when he thought of them.
Buoult grimaced in disgust. Politics made for strange gene transfers. The Soro were now strongest among the survivors. The Thennanin were weakest of the major powers. Although the Tandu philosophy was the most repulsive of those in opposition to the Abdicator Creed, they were now all that stood in the way of a Soro triumph. The Thennanin must ally with them, for now.
Should the Tandu seem about to prevail, there would be another chance to switch sides. It had happened a number of times already, and would happen again.
Buoult steeled himself for the meeting ahead. He was determined not to let show any of his dread of stepping aboard a Tandu ship!
The Tandu didn't seem to care what chances they took with their crazy, poorly understood probability drive. The insane reality manipulations of their Episiarch clients often let them move about more quickly than their opponents. But sometimes the resulting alterations of spacetime swallowed whole groups of ships, impartially snatching the Tandu and their enemies from the universe forever! It was madness!
Just let them not use their perverted drives while I am aboard, Buoult's organs-of-prayer subvocalized. Let us make our battle plans and be done.
The Tandu ships came into sight, crazy, stilt-like structures that disdained armor for wild speed and power.
Of course even these unusual ships were mere variations of ancient Library designs. The Tandu were daring, but they did not add to their crimes the gaucherie of originality
Earthlings were in many ways more unconventional than the Tandu. Their sloppy gimmickry was a vulgar habit that came from a poor upbringing.
Buoult wondered what the "dolphins" were doing right now. Pity the poor creatures if the Tandu, or even the Soro got hold of them! Even these primitive sea mammals, clients of a coarse and hairy wolfling race, deserved to be protected, if possible.
Of course there were priorities. They mustn't be allowed to hoard the data they held!
Buoult noticed that his finger-claws had unsheathed in his agitation. He pulled them back and cultivated serenity as the shuttle drew near th
e Tandu squadron.
Buoult's musing was split by a sudden chill that made his crest tremble ... a disturbance on a psi band.
"Operator!" he snapped. "Contact the flagship! See if they verify that call!"
"Immediately, General-Protector!"
Buoult controlled his excitement. The psychic energies he felt could be a ruse. Still, they felt right. They bore the image of Krondorsfire, which none of them had hoped to see again!
Determination filled him. In the negotiations ahead, he would ask one more favor. The Tandu must provide one added cooperation in exchange for the help of the Thennanin.
"Confirmed, sir. It is battleship Krondorsfire," the pilot said, his voice raspy with emotion. Buoult's crest stood erect in acknowledgment. He stared ahead at the looming metal mantis shapes, steeling himself for the confrontation, the negotiations, and the waiting.
Beie Chohooan was listening to whale songs -- rare and expensive copies which had cost her a month's pay some time ago -- when her detectors picked up the beacon. Reluctantly, she put down her headphones and noted the direction and intensity. There were so many signals ... bombs and blasts and traps. It was one of the little wazoon that pointed out to her that this particular beacon emanated from the waterworld itself.
Beie groomed her whiskers and considered.
"I believe this will change things, my pretty little ones. Shall we leave this belt of unborn rubble in space and move in a bit closer to the action? Is it time to let the Earthlings know that someone is out here who is a friend?"
The wazoon chittered back that policy was her business. According to union rules, they were spies, not strategists.
Beie approved of their sarcasm. It was very tasty.
"Very well," she said. "Let us try to move closer."