The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  "Or maybe up with the Astari," Antares said.

  "Or up with the Astari," he agreed. "It's not a bad place. It's quite beautiful, in many ways. And our friends . . . L'Kell and Kailan and the others. But it's not home, is it?"

  She blew through puckered lips. "No. It's not home." She chewed a bread-nugget thoughtfully, then said, "You miss your home a lot, don't you? And the ones you loved. I can feel it in you."

  He grunted. He had not spent a lot of time consciously grieving over his past life, and yet, now that she mentioned it, he felt a renewed pang.

  "Yes?" she asked.

  He nodded. "I've hardly had time to think about it. But yes. Yes, I do." He gazed at Antares, and allowed himself a confused smile, suddenly thinking about Julie Stone—and then, abruptly, about Antares. She was watching him with great interest. "But there's so much I don't know about you," he said. "And your world."

  "Such as—?"

  "I don't know. What was it that took you from your world, and brought you to Shipworld? Was your world saved, the way mine was? The way Ik's wasn't? What can you tell me about your world?"

  Her lips turned up in a frown that seemed like a smile. "I do not know what became of my world. As far as I know, it was never in any danger."

  "No danger?"

  "But I was in danger. I was in prison, awaiting execution."

  He remembered the image from the joining of their stones. "The forbidden love."

  Antares nodded. Definitely a human gesture, this time. She had been studying him.

  Bandicut felt a pressure in his throat, as he remembered the wall that had fallen between them, defining limits in the midst of their joining. "And now you feel as though you cannot know love again. Or . . . make love . . . to another. Yes?"

  For a moment, she did not speak, though he felt her conflicted emotions pulling one way and another. She touched his hand, and he turned it palm-up and held her hand for a dozen heartbeats. And he knew, as he squeezed her hand, that she knew what he meant by making love. Close enough, anyway. He wondered suddenly how Thespi females made love, and what it felt like to them. Was it an empathic rush of free-flowing emotion? Was it like human coupling, with rising and crescendoing physical urges? Was it sex at all? He thought he had felt inklings of this, when they'd joined stones, but now he could not remember.

  Antares raised his hand and pressed it to her throat, just above her upper breasts. He felt the stones come alive, touching hers . . .

  . . . differently, this time. Almost disturbingly so. But not just disturbing: there was a sharpness, and excitement. As though all the images that before had whirled around them, gathering pieces of their past lives, had been stripped away . . . leaving only the emotions, and the inner sensations of the body. And then new images. Touching. Gently stroking. Fingers on skin. Stroking. Arms gliding together, fingertips brushing. Sensations and emotions mingling, before any physical arousal had begun. Then later came the physical, the flickering of fire in the loins. Dance of electricity in the arms, along the neck. Blossoming into the breasts, sparkling out into the top nipples first. Then the bottom pair slowly brightening, joining.

  Bodies slowly coiling around each other, searching for best fit. Hands here, there. Arms enclosing. Mouths touching shoulders, one to the other. Fingers moving through hair. And then bodies pressing close, skin to skin, nipples to smooth chest. Legs opening and closing around each other, bellies rubbing softly. And with an eruptive sparkle, the tiny probe emerging from his stomach and embedding itself in the soft depression in hers . . .

  And the two minds, two psyches, coiling around each other and joining

  joining

  joining who? Antares and

  Who? The forbidden lover? Ensendor.

  And then a curious shifting. For a moment a wall of grieving. Then the grieving dissolved into a different time, a different place, and the physical joining faded away. Emotions did not fade, but reformed, and bodies reappeared transformed, and he was joined, moving slowly. Slowly. Deeply penetrating. Prolonging. Entangled with, joined with Julie, his sensations inside and outside, the heat of her swallowing him. And the shuddering, and eruptive bursts. And slow dissolve . . .

  He blinked, realized Antares' head was cradled on his shoulder, her hair falling against his neck. His hand, and wrist, slipping a little from the front of her throat, to the top of her upper breasts. He sensed her desire, uncertain and confused. He lowered his hand very slowly, and cupped her upper left breast. Then brushed with his fingertips. Felt nipple through soft fabric. Felt it grow warm to the touch.

  This was wrong

  no

  why would it be

  not wrong

  different

  Her hand covered his and held it there. Cradling the warm nipple. Hard. Feeling the spark, the tiniest electric tingle.

  And her thought: Yes. There. Just that.

  And he cradled her shoulder with the other arm, her head rocking slightly on his shoulder, and felt the wave of sorrow at what was and might have been, and fearful pleasure at what might be. And he held her, held her sorrow and pleasure in his arms, felt her trembling as it coursed through her . . .

  Finally she raised her eyes, and peered into his, probing, searching for memories. She silently opened the front of her pantsuit and pressed his hand over her bared breast. Her nipple was hot and hard under his palm. Her hand moved along his arm. Lightly touching his chest, through the jumpsuit. And then lower. Lower. She touched, then tentatively closed her hand over him, holding the bulge of his erection through the fabric. His breath shuddered out.

  Her breath sighed in and out, with excitement. But also surprise. Perplexity. Curiosity. "You're huge," she whispered. "How can you be?"

  He groaned with pleasure, and despite all of his instincts and desires, began to laugh.

  "Why are you—am I hurting you?" She started to remove her hand.

  "No—no, don't stop—"

  "Then—" Eyes large, bright, gold.

  "It's just—" he whispered, barely able to speak "—how did you know—exactly the right thing to say?"

  She did not answer, but parted her lips in a Thespi smile, and moved her hand very gently, slowly, following the undulating waves of pleasure. Thinking, or perhaps whispering, show me, and then finding the opening in the fabric and releasing him into the warmth of her hand and the softness of her belly . . .

  *

  /// That was amazing . . .

  really amazing . . . quite wonderful . . . ///

  He swallowed, focusing on everything, and nothing. A hundred thoughts flickered through his mind, and fled. He breathed slowly and deeply, letting his eyes come back into focus on Antares. /I didn't know you were there./

  /// Oh yes—watching, experiencing.

  Joining.

  I hope I didn't interfere. ///

  /No. Thank you./

  /// You seem very . . . foggy . . . ///

  /Happy./ He touched Antares' hair.

  /// . . . and yet in a strange way, very clear.

  But I sense now, she is beginning to

  draw away again. ///

  He stroked Antares' cheek. /You don't have to analyze, or explain—don't—/

  /// She is holding you, fulfilled,

  in a certain way— ///

  /Please./

  /// And yet she is sad, frightened,

  afraid to hold on. ///

  He caressed her face with his fingertips, then drew her close into the comfort of his neck and shoulder, kissed the top of her head, her hair. She smelled of pine and musk. /Let us enjoy it now, please, while it lasts. Ask whatever you want later. Not now./

  /// Yes. Of course.

  Sorry. ///

  *

  They went to sleep loosely dressed, but curled together in spoon fashion, or as nearly so as their not-quite-matched bodies would fit. Bandicut kept an arm around her, aware that whatever they had just shared might be a thing of the moment; and yet wishing not to let the intimacy evaporat
e if he could help it, or disappear behind a veil of caution and isolation. And knowing, even as he slipped off to sleep, that it was mostly beyond his power to control.

  *

  They woke much later—slowly, comfortably, but then with a certain amount of awkwardness, when they realized that Li-Jared was asleep in a corner of the room. Antares turned to receive his embrace, then sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. She began sorting through the leftover fruit. Li-Jared woke up, and joined them sleepily in quiet conversation and food.

  Word came early in the day that S'Cali and the cargo sub had arrived from the Astari wreck, and Bandicut was wanted for a conference with L'Kell. He took the first sub that Kailan could arrange, leaving Antares and Li-Jared at work with the obliq.

  Askelanda was the first to greet him, even before L'Kell. "We have a load of materials—not in great quantity, but perhaps enough to satisfy the factory, for a start."

  Bandicut looked from Askelanda to Ik, who had returned with S'Cali, along with most of the remaining Neri. "And is it the raw material the factory asked for—or machines, or what?"

  Ik answered, "Raw materials, mostly. Some was ferried out from the land; apparently the Astari ashore are honoring Morado's agreement. Some of it came from storage compartments on the wreck that the Neri hadn't even begun to explore yet. We think it covers most of what the factory asked for, but we have no real way of testing. The copper I'm pretty sure of; it's in thick coils. The rest is the Astari's best guess. I suppose the factory itself will have to make the determination."

  "And the factory may be ready for us," L'Kell said, coming in from another room.

  "Word from the robots?" Bandicut asked.

  "A new transmission. They said that the reprogramming was going well, but complete self-repair and production restart now awaits the arrival of materials."

  "How are you doing at getting a message back in to the robots?"

  "That's the other news. Delent'l went down this morning to relieve Targus, and he finally located the entry membrane through the silt, and got a probe in. We're not sure about the transmission, though. Possibly the robots couldn't understand Delent'l's speech very well. Delent'l said he tried to explain that you would be coming in your star-spanner bubble, and he got a reply that sounded like—" L'Kell's voice deepened as he tried to sound human "—'Tally-ho, Captain.' '"

  Bandicut burst into laughter.

  "Is this meaningful to you?" Askelanda demanded.

  "Yes. I think you can take that as a yes," he reassured the ahktah.

  "Then the time has come to prepare for your departure," Askelanda said. He turned to the other Neri. "Please begin attachment of our guests' bubble to the sub." Then he asked Bandicut, "Do you wish to have anyone in the bubble with you?"

  Bandicut thought about that for a moment. "Ik, would you like to come with me? It might be risky, but I sure could use your advice and wisdom."

  *Bring all.*

  Bandicut blinked, startled by the sudden voice of the translator-stone. His first thought was worry. /Charlie? Char, you there? You okay?/

  /// Yes, I'm here. ///

  /Why'd it speak directly like that? It never does that when you're here./

  /// I think . . . they really wanted

  to make their point. ///

  /They want me to bring everyone? Just like that? Do you have any idea why?/

  /// I think they see this mission as

  the crucial determinant. ///

  He raised his palms mentally, trying to comprehend.

  /// No one expects you to be able

  to put things aright here all by yourself.

  Nor should you.

  What they want is

  for you to change the spin, the direction,

  the way things are heading. ///

  /So?/

  /// So that's what we're after

  on this trip, and maybe on this world.

  John, I'm not really sure . . .

  that we'll be coming back this way again.

  Don't ask me why I think that. ///

  Bandicut swallowed hard. He looked again at Ik and L'Kell and Askelanda, and said, "I think, actually, it would be best if we all went. Ik, Li-Jared, Antares. This is going to be a big mission. And I think I might need . . . all of your help. I would like for us—" he hesitated "—to stick together."

  Ik gazed at him with glittering Hraachee'an eyes. "Then I should call the others. Should I not?"

  Bandicut nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  Chapter 32

  The Factory Head

  THE FACTORY AREA looked even more desolate than before. There was a haze of suspended silt, like low ground fog, close to the bottom. Rocks and parts of the factory structure poked up like humpbacked ghosts, silent and grey. Bandicut rubbed his eyes, uncertain for a moment whether it was fatigue or water-borne haze that was obscuring the view. He glanced back through the rear viewports, for maybe the hundredth time, to make sure the star-spanner bubble was still attached to the back of the sub. It was, and behind it were the headlights of the cargo sub. His eye caught Antares, and her lips crinkled for a moment in a calming smile. Her emotions seemed cloudy, but she was trying to be reassuring.

  "Are you worried?" asked Ik.

  "Nervous as a bridegroom," Bandicut said, peering forward again to see if he could spot the entry point to the factory.

  He needn't have bothered; Delent'l had left an echoing sonar marker. L'Kell quickly located the marker and brought them to the spot. "Let's insert the probe," he said.

  "All right." Bandicut took the manipulator arm controls and began to extend the probe, which was tipped with a bulbous speakerphone. His action was interrupted by a voice on the external hydrophone, speaking in Neri.

  "This is Copernicus. We are detecting vibrations suggesting the presence of a submersible. If this is correct, please ping three times."

  L'Kell pinged. The sounds reverberated in the sub's cabin like a plucked piano string.

  "Thank you. If John Bandicut is with you, ping three times."

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  "Thank you." The robot switched to English. "Welcome, Cap'n. We are prepared to initiate contact. Please back away to a distance of at least twenty meters while we clear the area."

  L'Kell backed the sub away. A moment later, a great cloud of silt billowed up in front of the sub, white and impenetrable in the headlight glare. It slowly drifted toward the sub, obscuring the pilot's window, and then gradually cleared. Where they previously had seen only a hump of murky sediment, they now saw a membrane pulsing rhythmically outward like a balloon, knocking away the last of the silt residue on its surface.

  Bandicut glanced at L'Kell. "Let's try the outside speakers and see if Copernicus can hear us through the membrane." L'Kell touched the switch. "Coppy, this is Bandicut. Can you read me? The entry point is much clearer now."

  "Excellent, Cap'n. Are you in the star-spanner bubble?"

  "Not yet. What do you want us to do?"

  "Let's take care of the materials first. Have you brought what we requested?"

  "It's right behind us, in a cargo sub. They can drop it wherever you want it."

  The robot's voice seemed to reverberate across the ocean floor. "Then let us proceed with the transfer. Please observe, and report what you see, on the area thirty meters upslope from this entry membrane. About ten meters shy of the large black smoker."

  L'Kell pointed out the spot, alerted S'Cali in the cargo sub, and turned his own sub for a better view. There was another massive puff of silt, which drifted clear, revealing a horizontal membrane on the bottom. It looked like a large, metallized tarp stretched over . . . what? Bandicut wondered. He described it to Copernicus.

  "At the pilot's discretion, he may approach the membrane," said the robot. "If the cargo is solid and sufficiently dense, he may simply drop it over the membrane."

  "Preparing for the drop," came S'Cali's voice. "It'll take a minute to get ready. L'Kell and Bandicut
watched as the larger sub maneuvered over the membrane, like a great hen settling into its nest. A few minutes later, S'Cali reported his cargo hatch opened, and the drop completed.

  "Cargo received," Copernicus replied. "Contents are being analyzed and broken down. The copper and other elements are being dissolved and placed into the raw material stream. Thank you. John Bandicut, while that procedure is taking place, would you like to attempt contact with the factory head?"

  Bandicut drew a deep breath before answering. "All right. I'm going to move into the bubble now." He glanced at his Neri friend.

  L'Kell took the remote manipulator controls and began winding in the forwardmost cables securing the bubble. Bandicut peered back to see the bubble rising behind them and moving forward over the sub. L'Kell crouched to peer up through a small porthole, and carefully reeled the cables until the bubble was positioned directly overhead. Then he drew all the cables taut, fore and aft—securing the bubble against the hatch.

  They had rehearsed this in relatively shallow water—in the middle of the Neri city, with swimmers standing by to aid him. They had established that it was possible to pass from the sub to the bubble and back, while keeping the internal pressure of both lower than that of the surrounding water. But that differential was small stuff compared to what they faced here. Thousands of pounds per square inch were squeezing against the sub, ready to burst through any structural weakness. Would the seal hold? And if it failed, would he kill just himself, or all of his friends, too?

  It was time to find out.

  He turned around in the cramped space. As he squeezed between Antares and Li-Jared in the back of the compartment, Antares caught his hand—and his gaze. He managed a smile. Then he climbed up into the conning tower airlock.

  As he reached for the metal hatch, Ik called up, "Are you sure you don't want someone with you?"

  He glanced back down into the compartment. "Later. Let me check it out first. Now, help me secure this, okay?"

  He swung the hatch shut and tightened the latches. He was in a tight cylinder now, lit only by a tiny Neri lantern. He'd been through the tower many times, but it felt a lot smaller with both top and bottom hatches closed. Reaching overhead, he began to loosen the latches on the top hatch, working quickly before he could lose his nerve.