The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  Ik hated rushing off—on this chase or any other. It was the sort of thing that precluded thoughtfulness and caution. Ik believed in thoughtfulness, in taking the long view. But when boldness was called for, there was no point in hesitation. If only he knew what sort of boldness was appropriate! If only he knew what Li-Jared had learned! Even Ik was becoming impatient. The time had come for them either to make their escape from this perplexing world, or to steel themselves to meddling in its affairs. They simply could not stay mere observers much longer.

  And what about this new arrival, this John Bandicut?

  Ik sighed softly through his ears. Light was at last growing in the sky. He rose silently and stretched his limbs. He would allow John Bandicut to rest a little longer. In the meantime Ik would scout the land.

  *

  The dawn light, pink and cold, woke Bandicut. He sat up painfully, barely able to coax his aching joints to move. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and stared across the pile of ashes where the fire had been.

  His alien friend was gone.

  He struggled to his feet, trying not to be alarmed. "Ik?" he called hoarsely. "Are you still here?"

  Napoleon whirred. "John Bandicut, are you looking for the other?"

  "Did you see him?"

  "I believe he is walking in the cluttered area beyond," said Napoleon, swiveling a slender metal arm toward the copse of trees outside their sheltered camp.

  "Ah," Bandicut muttered, realizing that he had another need. He glanced around with a slight feeling of embarrassment. He'd never taken a leak on an alien world before. He hiked a little farther into the cleft of rock, then stood facing the wall, sighing, as he emptied his bladder.

  He turned to go find Ik.

  /// I am still with you, ///

  said a quiet voice in his mind, as he walked out among the trees.

  He blinked, startled. He had some readjusting to do. /Good! Welcome back! I hope you're making sense of things. Maybe you can help me make sense of things./

  /// I will try, ///

  promised the quarx.

  Bandicut spotted the tall alien out beyond the far edge of the trees. "Ik! There you are!"

  Ik turned and gestured expansively. "Hrrrlll. You note the morning!"

  "Yes, indeed," Bandicut said, trying not to limp from soreness as he walked over. "Good morning."

  "Good morning," repeated Ik, rolling the words off his tongue. He turned, surveying the land in the early light, and spoke haltingly. "John Bandicut. I must travel far today." He turned to look back at the human.

  "Oh."

  "I have great need."

  Need? Bandicut cleared his throat. "Well, is it anything I could help you with?"

  Ik cocked his head. In the daylight, he looked less skeletal and more . . . alien. His eyes, though small by human standard, sparkled piercingly bright in their deepset hollows. His skin appeared leathery but smooth, with a tint that seemed to vary according to the light, from white to a distinct blue. Bandicut wondered what kind of sun Ik had grown up under. Or if he had grown up under a sun at all. Bandicut squinted up into the sky, wondering what that bright light really was, if this wasn't a planet.

  Ik watched him think, without answering.

  Bandicut returned to his question. "I mean, I'd like to help, if I can." He gestured to his left, toward the cliff from which they had emerged as if by magic, yesterday. "To, well, repay you."

  "Re-pay?"

  "For saving us. Bringing us here." He gestured expansively. "Wherever here is. It's better than where we were."

  Ik opened his mouth and snapped it shut, twice. "Yes. I have been in this region before. Once. But I don't know it well."

  "Ah. You're a stranger here, too." Bandicut nodded, remembering Ik's gesture to the stars last night. "Where is it you . . . come from?"

  Ik's eyes seemed to sharpen. "Where? From . . . a world that . . ." He waved vaguely toward the sky. "From another . . . it is called, rrrr—" His voice seemed to tighten and rise half an octave. "Hraachee'a. Home." His translator-stones flickered in his head, and Bandicut felt the tingle in his own wrists as his stones tried to translate. Or perhaps that was a translation—something that he could at least try to get his mouth around.

  "Hrack—"

  "Hraachh—" said Ik, emphasizing the guttural rasp. "Hraachee'a."

  "Hraachee'a?"

  "Yes. Urrr, home. It has—had, rather—many names."

  Had many names? Bandicut was afraid to ask. "Was it another world, in space? You traveled—" he waved his hand across the sky "—from another, a different, sun? Another star?"

  Ik clacked his mouth shut, twice. "Another star. Yes." He made a harrumphing sound. "Star of another, a different, a lovely—urrrrr—" Rasp. His temple-stones pulsed, as he peered about the copse, looking for something to use as an illustration. Finally he pointed to his own skin. Bandicut's stones tingled, as he heard, "Blue."

  "A blue sun?" Bandicut echoed in wonderment. He'd always heard that it was impossible for life to evolve near a blue sun. Too short a life span for the star. Apparently he'd heard wrong.

  "Blue-ishhh . . . sun. Yes." Ik's eyes flickered. "Was. But no longer."

  Bandicut's heart sank for his new friend. "What do you mean? It's gone?"

  Ik rubbed the front of his abdomen, eyes darkening. "Gone, yes. So I believe."

  The alien's pain was palpable. Ik, too, was an exile—but his world hadn't survived him. "I'm very sorry," Bandicut said softly. "So you were brought here, by someone? Some force?"

  Ik swept his arm in an arc. "Six seasons ago."

  "Do you know why?"

  Ik looked uncertain. He rubbed his fingers along his front.

  "I don't know why I'm here," Bandicut admitted. "Or even what this place is. Except—" He hesitated.

  "Yes?"

  "Well, except that someone seems to think I am needed here." At those words, he thought he saw Ik's eyes gleam for a moment. Hadn't Ik said something about "need"? Bandicut frowned and continued, "But I don't know why, or by whom."

  "Don't know," Ik agreed. He looked away for a moment, then stared back at Bandicut, eyes glittering. "I have been seeking . . . answers. With a friend. I must set out soon now, to find my friend. We were separated, and he might be in danger. He might have gained information." Ik closed his eyes and opened them again. "Would you—" rasp "—wish to come?"

  Bandicut opened his mouth. There it was: an invitation. Should he go? If not, what should he do? He had no way to return to his ship. And even if he could return, what then? He'd seen no indication that the owners of this strange world had any intention of coming to greet him.

  "I do not know," said Ik, "what we may find."

  "Um," Bandicut asked softly, "this friend. Is he of your own kind?"

  Ik's breath sighed out. "Not a Hraachee'an, no. But—" his eyes sparked with intensity "—a friend."

  Bandicut absorbed that silently. "Is it far? Will you travel very far?"

  Ik touched his cheek with two fingers. "Perhaps, yes. He was intending to meet—hrrrump—" Ik paused, trying to rephrase. "My friend, Li-Jared, did not join me as planned. He may be, may need, help." Ik became agitated, as though he were intending to stride off that very moment.

  Bandicut swallowed. "Well, then, we will try to . . . help."

  "You need n-not," said the alien.

  /// What are you offering here? ///

  /I don't know. But he saved my life, Charlie./ Bandicut reached out with open hands. "I would like to come," he said. "If we can help, I would like to."

  Ik's eyes flickered. "I accept—" rasp "—welcome your help. But your—" He shifted his gaze back toward Napoleon and Copernicus, perhaps remembering the deadly commotion they had caused yesterday.

  "Robots," Bandicut said. "That's Copernicus, on wheels. And Napoleon, on legs." He hesitated. "They must come with me. I would feel—lost, without them. They are very—" he searched for the right word "—loyal."

  The alien's stones pulsed for a
moment or two. "Hrahh. Loyal."

  /// I'm not sure I know

  the word. ///

  /It means you stick by your friends, and people who've helped you./

  "That is a good thing, John Bandicut," Ik was saying.

  /// Perhaps I should study this, as well. ///

  /Take a look under "friends." I don't know what you'll find, but maybe it'll bring back some memories./ To Ik he said, "Shall we eat something and get going?"

  Ik clacked his mouth in agreement.

  Chapter 6

  Storms on the Plain

  BANDICUT SEARCHED IN his backpack and pulled out an emergency ration. "This can keep me going a little while. We could share it—but I don't know if it'd suit your digestion." He glanced around at rocks and grass and trees. "Still, what else is there?"

  Ik made throaty clicking noises. "I am uncertain of your food, John Bandicut. But I find much in this world that I can eat." He stroked at the stones in his temples. "This has been done for me."

  Bandicut remembered the translator-stones telling him that his own metabolism had been normalized for this world. And not just him. The robots had been altered, too.

  /// Normalized? ///

  /Does that mean anything to you?/

  /// Let me ask the daughter-stones. ///

  Bandicut was amazed, though he shouldn't have been. /Are they talking to you? They haven't been too chatty with me./

  /// I have been establishing

  a certain level of interchange with them. ///

  /Good. You're a useful guy, Charlie./

  /// It is my goal to be. ///

  Bandicut bobbed his head and spoke to Ik. "I haven't tried the local food yet." But it won't be long, he thought, counting his meager supplies.

  /// According to the stones,

  your body chemistry was adjusted

  at the time of your entry.

  You should be able to eat appropriate vegetation

  here. ///

  /Should be able? Well, that's better than nothing, I guess./ Bandicut tore open a high-carb nut bar. It tasted . . . a little off. Not rancid or bad, exactly—more like a food whose flavor no longer quite agreed with him. He took three bites, drank from his water bottle, and decided that he'd had enough. /I thought I was hungrier,/ he reflected, aware that he shouldn't be complaining, if this meant that his food supply would last longer. But his stomach felt unsettled.

  /// Perhaps local food will suit you better,

  since your change. ///

  /Let's hope so./ Bandicut leaned toward the robots. "Have you two run your diagnostics?"

  "Affirmative, John Bandicut," said Napoleon. "I find my expanded protocols intact and functional."

  "Expanded protocols? What expanded protocols?"

  "My new higher-level programming."

  Bandicut squinted at his robot. "Where did this new programming come from, Nappy?"

  "I cannot identify the source. However, its time-code appears to coincide with our arrival on the icy hill." Napoleon's sensors swiveled. "It may take some time for me to fully integrate the new functions."

  Bandicut stared at the robot. Is this still Napoleon? he wondered. Or was he dealing with some new creation altogether? For that matter, /Am I still me, Charlie?/

  /// According to the stones—

  well, to be honest I am not totally certain.

  But I believe you are still you.

  And your robots are still your robots.

  But with . . . enhanced capabilities.

  You seemed to feel that they were rather

  primitive before. ///

  Bandicut grunted. /Yeah, but I sort of liked them that way./ He looked past Napoleon. "Coppy? You too?"

  The wheeled robot tapped in response. "My answer is identical to Napoleon's, Cap'n."

  Bandicut blinked. Copernicus's answers were becoming positively nonliteral. "I see. And your power levels?"

  Napoleon spoke first. "Ninety-one percent."

  "Eighty-six percent, plus twenty hour reserve after nomimal shutdown," said Copernicus.

  Napoleon clicked. "Yes, that's right. Make that ninety-one percent, plus reserve. Thank you, Coppy."

  The other robot drumtapped.

  Bandicut looked up from the robots to Ik. "It seems—" he spread his hands "—that I have smarter assistants than I thought."

  "Aha," said Ik, rubbing his chest. "Are they still loyal?"

  A band of tension gripped Bandicut for a moment, as he turned from Ik back to the two robots. "You guys still loyal?" /What do you think, Charlie?/

  /// I don't see why they wouldn't be. ///

  "With you for the journey," tapped Copernicus.

  "At your service, John Bandicut," said Napoleon.

  "I'll take that as a yes." Bandicut began repacking his bag, rolling up his damp clothes and squeezing them into a side pocket. "Shall we break camp, Ik?"

  The alien adjusted the rope he had tucked in his leather belt. "Ready, John Bandicut."

  *

  They set out through the copse of trees and nearly straight away from the cliff where the portal had brought them through from the icy river. The hiking was easy, over a plain carpeted with ankle-high grass and flanked on either side by distant scarps. The sky overhead turned a chalky blue as the morning wore on, and the air grew pleasantly warm. Copernicus had no trouble rolling through the grass, and after a bit of trial and error, Napoleon found a rhythm of walking in this gravity that enabled him to trot smoothly alongside Bandicut.

  Ik stopped several times to pick berries from a species of bush that dotted the land. He ate with apparent relish. Bandicut picked a few berries and rolled them in the palm of his hand. He was going to have to work up the nerve to try one. /Can you save my goose if this is poisonous?/ he asked Charlie.

  /// I'm sorry, how would I do that? ///

  /Well . . . I guess you'd have to study my memories. Your predecessors were able to able to pull off some pretty impressive healings when I got hurt. I needed it more than once./

  /// Sounds like an interesting skill. ///

  /It was very handy,/ Bandicut assured him.

  /// I will try to study it.

  But realistically, I think right now

  you're on your own. ///

  Bandicut studied the berry; it looked like a small holly berry, but purple. He remembered that holly berries were poisonous. Maybe the translator-stones could protect him, if Charlie couldn't.

  "Urrrr, very good," muttered Ik, popping another handful into his mouth.

  Bandicut shrugged. "What the hell." He placed the berry between his front teeth and bit tentatively. A taste reminiscent of blueberry and orange exploded in his mouth. It was sweet, tart. Delicious, in fact. He held it in his mouth and waited for an adverse reaction. When none came, he nervously spat it out anyway. He waited a minute, then two, then finally bit another. This time he swallowed. "Mm. That does sort of hit the spot."

  "Hrahhh?"

  "An expression. It means I liked it." Bandicut picked a small handful, but decided to hold off on eating them. "I'd better wait and make sure I'm not allergic or something."

  They started walking again, the robots close behind.

  *

  "Ik?"

  "Urrr?"

  What he had been thinking was, how odd it felt to be strolling across a pastoral plain, as if on a Sunday outing, with an alien who probably came from the far side of the galaxy—and to think that they were equally far from home.

  He shook his head and said, "What is this place, really?"

  "Urrr?"

  "It seems like—" he groped for words "—a world, or many worlds—"

  "Hah."

  He frowned at Ik. "But all contained somehow? In one great structure?"

  The Hraachee'an kept walking with a tireless stride. "You could describe it that way. It's actually somewhat more complicated."

  Bandicut scowled. remembering the apparent size of the thing that had swallowed his spaceship like a whal
e gulping krill. "Well, are there other people here?"

  Ik's eyes sparked for a moment. "Yes. Indeed. Many, many people."

  "Then where are they all?" Bandicut cried in frustration. "You're the only one I've met! Except for one sociopathic river, I haven't seen anything that moves. No animals. No birds. Not even any bugs. Much less people."

  Ik made a burring sound, and glanced sideways. "There are many in other regions. But you are correct. Here, it seems very quiet. Gaaiii. I have wondered why, myself. This is one of the things I wish to learn, John Bandicut." Ik strode on, picking up his speed. The conversation seemed to make him anxious.

  Bandicut hurried to keep up. "Just call me John, okay? Or Bandie. That's what my friends on Triton called me."

  Ik seemed to realize he needed to slow up, to accommodate his human companion. "John," he said experimentally. "B-Bandie."

  "Right. John is my first name. Bandie is my nickname."

  Ik made a whiffling sound. "And you come from a world named—" he rolled the word off his tongue with an effort "—Trrrit-t-ton."

  "Well, almost." Bandicut explained that he was actually from a world called Earth but had last been working on Triton, moon of another planet in the same star system.

  "Hahh—your people travel among the stars, then," said Ik, rocking slightly as he walked.

  "No, just in our own solar system. At least, that was true when I left." Bandicut considered the point. "Actually, I have no idea how much time has passed since then. I suppose it's possible they've achieved star travel by now." A harsh laugh erupted from his throat. "I didn't exactly plan to come travelling this way, you know." He blinked, remembering the end of his journey with its heartwrenching view of the galaxy, from the outside. He remembered wondering why?—and later hearing the words, Because you are needed. His reverie collapsed with a shiver. He looked behind to make sure the robots were following. The four of them were leaving a wake of trampled grass. If anyone wanted to follow them, it wouldn't be hard.

  "I understand," Ik said softly. "I did not, either." Then Ik didn't say anything for a while, and just walked in long, rhythmic strides.

  Bandicut wanted to ask more, but sensed a deep sadness in the Hraachee'an, which he was reluctant to intrude upon. He nodded to himself, thinking, /I suppose it's better to be part of a band of exiles than one exile lost and alone./