Ghost of the Well of Souls wos-7

by Jack L. Chalker

Ming had barely begun to survey the field when a guy she’d hardly noticed drifted toward her with the clear intent of putting the moves on her.

  “You are new here,” the man stated.

  “Yes, new here, new in Yabbo,” Ming responded. “Does it show that much?”

  “You are far too young to be here on any sort of work contract, and I know just about all the regulars and their families here. Nothing mysterious,” the man replied. “I am Kalimbuch. My official title is Deputy Consular Officer for Trade, which is a fancy way of saying that I am a government accountant. My job is to log the business we do, particularly the new business. I keep an eye on trade balances as well as, of course, ensuring that what gets into Kalinda is what we wish to get in, and what we wish to stay out stays out.”

  Ming had a cover story ready, partially prepared by others back in Kalinda and then amplified by conversations and reactions with those they’d met on the way. “I am Mingchuk. I have passed all my exams and decided to travel while waiting for the university lists to open.”

  “Ah! I thought as much! What district are you from?”

  “Well, Jinkinar as much as anywhere. My family was military, and we were posted to different missions. In truth, I know more about some faraway places than I do my own native land and region, which is why I’m using the time this way.”

  There. That should cover any slips on local families and geography. If anybody asked about some of the foreign hexes she’d visited with her “military adviser” parents, she could make up something convincing since she knew a lot of races from her previous life who had counterparts here. Chances were, nobody who asked about them would know truth from falsehood anyway.

  “Most efficient use you could make,” Kalimbuch responded. “Might I buy you something as a welcoming libation, perhaps?”

  “I—I’m just getting used to such things, having only come of age in the past month,” she responded demurely. “What would you suggest?”

  “I know just the thing!” the consul responded, and floated over to the bar where a bored-looking Kalindan female stirred enough to take the order.

  “A stuska,” Kalimbuch told her. “And my usual.”

  Watch it, Ari cautioned her silently. Remember, I’m in the same body, so if this stuff screws you up I won’t be any help.

  I think we can stand one or two of these. Most Kalindans can, and we’ve had some of this stuff before.

  Neither of them knew what a stuska was, though.

  The bartender came back with two containers, one with a pastel-blue spongy compound, the other a red-and-white-striped concoction that came on a stick. Kalimbuch gestured toward a table away from anyone else, and they drifted over to it and hovered there. Ming was surprised to find that the blue stuff was hers and the thing that looked like a confection was the consul’s. He stuck the thing in his mouth so that only the stick showed, sucking on it as he slowly breathed in the water. She wasn’t sure what to do with the blue stuff, and Kalimbuch quickly realized it.

  “Apologies,” he said. “Just take a small piece and pop it in your mouth and chew. Swallow when it gets to be just a substance in the mouth giving nothing else off, and then take some more. It’s quite mild and very flavorful.”

  She broke off a small piece, popped it in her mouth, and chewed on it slowly. At first it seemed to release a mostly sweet taste like licorice, but as it dissolved and went back through the gill area, it had a surprising, pleasant kick to it. This was something you went slow on if you didn’t want to get very high very fast.

  “Now, then,” Kalimbuch said, settling in and appearing more relaxed, “you must tell me the latest news from Kalinda. As you might guess, it has been a while since I’ve been home. Frankly, the way things are going at the moment, it is hard to say when I can return. All Kalindan men are specifically prohibited from entering the nation.”

  “It’s pretty bad,” Ming told him. “There are virtually no births left to go, and no men left to cause them. I hadn’t even known that any men failed to turn until we got here.”

  “Well, it’s not much security even with that,” he replied. “I mean, there are about 3,500 Kalindans working throughout Yabbo, perhaps another like number in all the other hexes we send people to. Of those, perhaps a third are men, so it’s about 2,200 men for—what? Two million population back home? I assure you that when I was younger that kind of situation was a fantasy, but the hard reality is that it scares me to death. Scares all of us men, I fear. Those who went back before it was no longer allowed changed, and, apparently, it doesn’t take much time at all in the hex before it happens. We do what we can here, but these domes are not the best places to raise children, and Yabbo’s heavy soup can be dangerous to babies.

  The Yabbans are sympathetic, but I’m sure they fear that we’ll be using their land as incubators, and they don’t like that idea at all. There is fear even now that the Yabbans may demand that we all get out if this—situation—continues.”

  “Would they do that? I mean, they really need a lot of stuff that we can make and maintain. I’d think service on that steam pressure train and their message system alone—if we don’t service it or make the spare parts, who would?”

  Ming took some more of the blue stuff. It was quite nice; it made the tiredness and aches and pains of the trip vanish and gave her a kind of nice buzz.

  “Who indeed?” the consul replied. “The plans are now well-known, and any high-tech hex could fabricate the basics when they run out from the spares they have now, which, of course, is a good supply. We were essential once; now we are merely—convenient.”

  “What do you think is causing the problem?” she asked him, guessing his thinking.

  “Oh, there have been times within the historical record where this has happened in the past,” Kalimbuch pointed out.

  She was surprised. “I hadn’t heard that. Everyone seems to think it’s a deep, dark plot.”

  “It very well could be. Still, it has happened before. One of the survival traits of our species is our ability to change sex as the population needs dictate, although, of course, most of us never did. At times we grow in population until we have as many people as our nation can adequately feed and house and care for, even allowing for imports. We’re at that point, or close to it, now. When this happens, a shift to all female is quite pragmatic. It stops population growth, of course, but without interfering with any young already developing. When deaths begin to lower the population by attrition, things begin to slowly get back to normal.”

  “Interesting. How does it work in other hexes? I’d guess they had to keep their population balanced as well.”

  “Well, yes. Normally it’s simply a decline in the birth rate that keeps things on a fairly even level for them. Most don’t have our ability to change sex, and so controlling the birth rate is the only way to do it. One wonders how it would be done in the greater universe.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I mean, out there, among the stars. I know there are civilizations out there—some of them fall into Gates and wind up here. But they’re not under the control of a computer-regulated biosphere. I wonder how they control their population, that’s all.”

  She laughed. “They don’t. Some of them just keep over-populating until famine and war and disease pare them down, and others have been known to virtually die out because they stop reproducing at all.” It was only after she said this that she realized it was information she shouldn’t have known. So much for undercover. It had to be this blue stuff…

  “Indeed? And how do you know this?”

  She tried to clear away the brain fog and recover. “We had two outsiders appear as Kalindans not long ago, and my parents were among those who had to evaluate them and where they would fit into our society. I had a chance to talk to them myself. A lot of chances, really, since they were held for so long by the security forces because they didn’t know what to do with them. Just hearing about their worlds made it clear that things go their own way ou
t there.”

  Quick thinking, Ari told her. Wonder if he’ll buy it?

  Kalimbuch made a face. “How terrible to live like that! It makes situations like the one we’re now in bearable, knowing that the Well will correct things over time. Life is chaotic enough for all that here; I can’t imagine adding more randomness to life.”

  She shrugged. “I dunno. This world was set up to develop and test races for real places out there, and, I mean, there has to be some reason for intelligence.”

  “Eh?”

  “Well, think about it. Most species aren’t really intelligent, let alone civilized. It’s all just food-chain stuff. Why are we smart? Why do we build cities, create all sorts of projects and all that? I mean, if the idea is just to keep the race going, then giving us sharp teeth and nasty dispositions would be enough.

  Intelligence, too, is a survival trait. I’m not sure we’d ever have developed it on our own in Kalinda, but it’s obviously needed on the world the Makers were intending to send us to. You’ve got to figure that the home world out there was a pretty mean place if we had to develop the smarts and tools and weapons and all to make it. Of course, I wonder if we did?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Make it. I mean, have you ever heard of any of our kind coming here from the stars? You’ve got to wonder if our kind made it out there even with the smarts.”

  Kalimbuch thought a moment. “There were stories, tales, but no, I can’t recall anyone who have come through resembling us.” It struck him then what she’d been saying. “Oh, my goodness! Then we—we might be it for our people!”

  “Exactly. You never know, though. My parents said that far fewer water breathers came through than gas breathers by maybe four or five to one. They just might not have developed spaceships yet.”

  “Urn, yes. I suspect you’re going to give them fits at university. Providing you get there, of course.”

  She suddenly tensed, in spite of the mild drug. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, our instructions are that all female Kalindans outside of the country are to remain outside, and that it is every Kalindan’s duty to bear children, particularly males. That means remaining outside for the term. Perhaps longer. That’s what the Yabbans are worried about, you see.”

  “You mean we won’t be allowed back? But that’s absurd! We came from the border only a day ago and there was a lot of cross-border traffic!”

  “Yes, but official business, including commerce, must continue even in the emergency. For females, this applies primarily to those who are not here on a governmental or commercial mission or who aren’t essential to one. Like you, in fact. Our government states that it is your patriotic duty to copulate and bear young outside of the hex. It is for the preservation of our race and culture.”

  “I thought you just finished telling me this was a natural occurrence!”

  “Perhaps it is. I do not make these decisions. I merely am here to help pass them along and, if need be, enforce them.”

  Now, that was the damnedest, boldest pickup line I ever got in my whole life! Ming said mentally to Ari after she managed to act shocked and shy enough to get away from the consul on the make.

  They were now up high, at the top of the dome, where the folks without money for comfort could stay, kind of like a public park.

  I’m not sure it was a line, Ari told her. We saw a number of women in and around here since then, and I’ve yet to see one who’s not carrying an egg or a kid.

  You’re joking! I’m not patriotic enough for that yet, I can tell you!

  Well, neither am I, although neither of us are anything like virgins.

  We are in this body!

  Well, yeah, but we’re still old pros, let’s face it. No, I been thinking that maybe we got this assignment all wrong.

  Huh? You mean they sent us over here to get knocked up and stuck being Mommy?

  Yeah, more or less. Core’s bottled up in Zone but also isolated from the hex and what’s going on there. We were the ones with the contacts in other hexes, the added agenda, and the ability to talk to folks outside Kalinda if somebody was pulling a fast one. Get us stuck over here hatching kids, and you pretty well neutralized us, didn’t you?

  Ming thought about that one for a while. So what could we do, really, to spoil anybody s takeover? We’re still the outsiders.

  I don’t know, but somebody thinks we’re a danger to them. Be interesting to find out who and why.

  Well, that answer’s not here, it’s back home. And do you want to stick around as a target for every guy on the make who hangs around here? Particularly when they’ll all soon be waving papers from home and crying that romantic ballad, “Duty to the race!”

  Ari found that idea both amusing and frightening. No, I don’t, but we have to consider that the other things we discussed earlier today with our diplomaniac was exactly what Core asked us to spot, look into, and report. The Yabbans aren’t going to seriously piss us off if they can avoid it—we’re next door, and will be next month and next year. They’d try and make deals with us. The fact that the consul felt they might be ready to take a hike means they already have set up alternate supplies or felt that they would still be able to get what they needed from Kalinda no matter what they said and did. And the only reason they would do that is if they thought we were already toast. Like it or not, here is where the first part of the job is for us. We’re stuck, at least until we can get some answers.

  Great, she sighed. Damned if we do and damned if we don’t. Well, okay, let s get some sleep, then. We’re gonna have to be in great shape to outrun the guys and still be in decent enough condition to snoop.

  The Barrens—Pegiri

  Figures rose out of the water like ancient gods ready to stalk the land. They moved silently and swiftly for such apparently massive creatures, oblivious to the air and the darkness, then through the gentle surf and onto the land in tight formation.

  The region was called the Barrens by the natives, not because it was truly so, but because the thick growths and fetid shallows and mud made it useless for anything productive.

  These newcomers from out of the sea were not natives, but they knew just where they were, and they were prepared for the grim land beyond.

  Just a few steps onto the driftwood-strewn beach they fanned out and then stopped, and there was a great deal of hissing from them. Thick arms came up and pressed studs that broke seals. They stepped out of their suits, which had ceased to function when they crossed the true border from Baisatz into Pegiri, and thus had also passed from high-tech to the more restrictive semitech conditions.

  The creatures still had a kind of artificial look to them even without any external wear; dark, blocky shapes with artistic designs for faces drawn in broad strokes of dull gold against black. The skin was actually leathery if touched, and the golden design was as much decorative as it seemed, although there was speculation that it had a role in courtship and mating back in the long-ago times of its creation. Now it served as misdirection, so that most observers would never notice the deeply set black eyes or slitlike ears, nor its black-lined mouth. Breathing was through a blowhole near the top of the head, although these creatures were of land, not of the sea.

  Most striking about them was that they seemed to be made of squares and rectangles, their two arms terminating in mean-looking sharp pincers.

  The leader wore a belt pack. He reached down into one of the packs with his claw and brought out a small notebook made for his requirements and thus easy to manipulate with just the claws. He consulted it, then looked at the junglelike rainforest beyond the beach, and finally up at the stars. Finally he said, in a voice that was extremely deep yet oddly distorted, as if he were speaking at least partially underwater, “To the right five degrees and in. There should be a track there that we can use.”

  Others in the squad moved forward, their gait oddly mechanical and plodding, yet sufficient for their needs. To a trained Well World biologist it would ha
ve instantly been clear that these creatures came from a biosphere with a significantly heavier gravitational pull than Pegiri’s.

  “Rifles at the ready, but you may shoot only if ordered to do so or if fired upon, and for no other reason. Clear?”

  The others murmured assent. They had gone over this in drills so many times that the real thing seemed almost an anticlimax.

  They were ten in number, a typical small squad with one officer, a noncom, and eight carefully chosen soldiers. The fact that they more properly lumbered forward than deployed in crisp fashion was more a result of the alien conditions in which they found themselves, rather than a commentary on their own efficiency or effectiveness.

  The rifles weren’t the tough, lightweight energy weapons they were used to, but the kind that shot explosive projectiles. The clips each held fifty rounds, and, depending on the setting of a side lever a claw top could easily manipulate, they could either fire single shot, as they were set to do right now, or fire all fifty in an effective twenty-five-degree arc in front of them in less than a second. These weren’t the best weapons, but they were the ones that worked here, in semitech Pegiri.

  Not that there was supposed to be any fighting or shooting. Not in this operation. They were there to pay for and retrieve a certain object that had been offered to them, and not to take it by force. There was little they could do to inflict harm should a large force oppose them; they were more like bank messengers than soldiers. The guns were there to protect against thieves and banditry and perhaps treason, but not against the Pegiri army.

  It shouldn’t come to that. This was supposed to be a nice, easy mission with no rough stuff anyway. Of course, those were the ones that always seemed to come up and bite you.

  It was exactly that kind of pragmatic pessimism that kept them alert and nervous as they moved inland. They knew that most of the weapons that could be deployed against them here would have little effect on their thick hides and dense body mass, but no one could be sure until a soldier caught one in the body or head and lived to tell about it.