Transvergence

by Charles Sheffield

  She crossed her fingers mentally and moved the control of the inside door. Dulcimer was now exposed to whatever sleet of radiation came from inside the reactor. And since Darya knew nothing of its design, she had no idea how much that might be.

  How long dare she leave him inside? A few minutes might be enough to kill. Too much would be worse than too little. The Zardalu just stood watching. They must assume that she knew what she was doing. Darya was in an agony of worry and guilt.

  "May I speak?" It was E.C. Tally, interrupting at the worst possible moment. J'merlia was standing by his side, fully awake again.

  "No. Keep quiet, E.C. I'm busy."

  "With respect, Professor Lang," J'merlia said, "I think you will find it of advantage to listen to his thinking."

  "I am still wondering," Tally went on without waiting for Darya's reaction, while she glared at both of them, "why you requested that I ask the Zardalu about the ways out of here."

  Darya rounded on him. "Why do you think? Do you two like it here so much you want to stay forever? You will, you know, unless you do more than just sit around."

  She knew that Tally did not deserve the outburst, but she was ready to be angry with anyone.

  He nodded calmly. "I understand your desire to leave, and quickly. But that does not address my question. Your request still confuses me, since we know where we were taken as we came here. I have all that information recorded in memory. And thus we already know how to get to the surface, without asking anyone."

  Darya had a few moments of wild hope before logic intruded. "That won't do, E.C. I believe that you remember exactly the way you came, and you could probably backtrack. But the first part of the trip was underwater—I saw you go before I did. And the sea around that whole area is swarming with Zardalu. Even if we escaped all the way back that far, we'd be caught in the water before we ever got close to land."

  "True. But may I speak? I am aware that escape through water is infeasible, and I would not propose that."

  "Then what the devil do you propose?" The collapse of even the faintest hope made Darya angrier than ever. "Tunneling up through solid rock? Eating your way out?"

  "I would propose that we retrace our downward path until we reach the first set of air pumps. And we then seek to follow their flow path directly to the surface."

  Air pumps. Darya was angrier than ever—at herself. She had felt the breeze of dry fresh air and heard the chugging rhythm of pumps in the very first chamber that she had been taken to. There must be hundreds of others, riddled through the whole labyrinth of chambers. All logic said that the ducts must terminate on the surface of Genizee.

  "Tally, I'll never say anything bad about embodied computers again. You can think rings around me. Bring that Zardalu over here, would you?—the bigger one. Quick as you can."

  He hurried away, and she glanced at the closed reactor door while he was whistling at their captor. In her preoccupation with Tally and J'merlia she had forgotten all about Dulcimer. For all she knew, he could be cooked right through and dead. She was reassured by a sudden sound—a loud Boom! Boom! Boom! from inside. She closed the inner door, but held the outer one closed as the bigger Zardalu approached.

  "Tell it, E.C.," she said. "Tell it to go right now and bring the senior Zardalu, the one that I was talking to earlier. Say I am ready to cooperate fully on the terms outlined to us, but I won't deal with anyone else. And both of you—get ready to move fast."

  The hammering on the door of the reactor chamber was getting steadily louder, together with a muffled screaming sound from within. Darya held the tag closed, waiting and waiting while the Zardalu dithered around as though unable to agree to the terms that Tally was explaining to it. At last it headed for the exit, pausing on the threshold for a final whistling exchange with the guard who would be left behind. That Zardalu moved closer, to dangle three brawny tentacles menacingly above Darya, J'merlia, and E.C. Tally.

  Darya waited thirty more endless seconds, until the other Zardalu should be well out of the way. Then she took a deep breath and unlocked the outer door. She was ready to swing it open, hoping that luck had been on her side and the Chism Polypheme had received the perfect dose of radiation.

  "Come on out, Dulcimer."

  She did not have a chance to open anything. The door was smashed out of her hands and whirled round to clang against the reactor wall.

  Dulcimer came out. Or something did.

  What had entered was a squat cucumber-mass, silent and sullen. What emerged was an extended nine-foot squirt of luminous apple green, screaming at the top of its single lung.

  The remaining Zardalu was right in the line of flight. Dulcimer knocked it flat and did not even change direction.

  "Dulcimer!" Darya cried. Talk about an overdose! "This way. Follow us—we've got to reach the air pumps. Dulcimer, can you hear me?"

  "Whooo-ooo-eee!" Dulcimer hooted. He went zipping around the whole chamber, bouncing from wall to wall and propelled by mighty spasms of his spiral tail.

  "Run for it!" Darya pointed E.C. Tally and J'merlia to the chamber exit and scrambled after them, her eyes still on Dulcimer. The Zardalu, groggy but still active, was back upright in a thresh of furious tentacles. It grabbed for the Polypheme as he flew by, but could not hold him. He bounced off the reactor, paused by the door for a second as though tempted to enter again, and then sprang up to the ceiling. In midair he turned upside down and went hurtling off at a different angle.

  "Dulcimer!" Darya cried again. She had been dawdling, and the Zardalu was starting in her direction. She could not wait any longer. "Go to the air pumps."

  "To the intake," J'merlia called, suddenly at Darya's side. "Quickly. It is farther along this tunnel."

  As J'merlia spoke, Dulcimer came whizzing past them, straight as an arrow down the corridor. Darya gasped with relief and ran the same way. She came to the great nozzles of the air pumps—and then realized that Dulcimer had flown right on past them. He had vanished into another and wider air duct, far along the corridor. Darya heard the cackling scream fading away in the distance. And then she could not hear it at all.

  "Inside," Tally called. He was far beyond the air-duct entrance. "If you climb a few meters farther, the tentacles will not be able to reach you. And this duct is too narrow to admit a Zardalu!"

  "Wait a second. J'merlia is still back there." Darya was worming feetfirst into the straight section of pipe, raising her head as she pushed in deeper. Progress was slow, and the Zardalu was closing fast—too fast. She could never get out of range in time.

  But J'merlia was between Darya and the Zardalu, and he was making no attempt to reach the air duct. Instead he ran off to the side, drawing the Zardalu after him. He disappeared from Darya's narrow field of view, ducking a swipe from a thick tentacle.

  And then he was back. As Darya pushed herself farther toward safety she saw J'merlia leap into view and halt, right in front of the Zardalu.

  Tentacles came down like a cage, enclosing the Lo'tfian on all sides. The suckered tips curled around the pipestem body, while a whistle of triumph and anger came from the slit mouth.

  The tentacles snapped shut. And in that moment, J'merlia disappeared.

  The Zardalu screamed in surprise. Darya gasped. J'merlia had not escaped—he had simply vanished, dissolved into nothing. But there was no time to pause and wonder about it. The Zardalu was moving forward—and Darya was still within reach.

  She wriggled for her life along the narrowing tunnel. Long, prehensile tentacle-tips came groping after her, touching her hair, reaching for her head and neck. Darya was stuck too tight to move.

  And then a hand was around her ankle, pulling her along. She gave one last big push, adding to E.C. Tally's helping heave, and slid along the tube the final vital jerk to safety. The Zardalu was straining for her. It remained a few inches out of reach.

  Darya lay flat on the floor of the air duct, exhausted and gasping for breath. Dulcimer was gone—who knew where? But he should be safe
for the moment. He was zipping through the air ducts, and anyway it would be a very speedy Zardalu who could even get near him in his condition. J'merlia had vanished, even more mysteriously, into air, in violation of every known physical law. They were still deep below ground, on a planet where the Zardalu ruled all the surface.

  And yet Darya was oddly exhilarated. No matter what came next, they had taken at least one step toward freedom. And they had done it without help from anyone.

  The path to the surface was both ridiculously easy and horribly difficult.

  Easy, because they could not go wrong if they followed the flow of the air. The duct they had entered was an exhaust for the chamber. It must at last merge with other exhaust vents, or bring them directly to the surface of Genizee. All they had to do was keep going.

  And difficult, because the layout of the duct network was unknown. The ducts had never been designed for humans to clamber through. In some spots the tubes became so narrow that there was no way to continue. Then Darya and Tally had to backtrack to a place where the pipes divided, and try the other fork. At other nodes the duct would widen into a substantial chamber, big enough for a Zardalu. That was not safe to enter, and again they would be forced to retrace their path.

  Darya was sure that she would never have made it without E.C. Tally. He kept a precise record of every turn and gradient, monitoring their three-dimensional position relative to their starting point and making sure that their choice of paths did not take them too far afield laterally. It was he who assured Darya that they were, despite all false starts and doubling back, making progress upward. His internal clock was able to assure her that although they seemed to have walked and crawled and climbed forever through dim-lit passageways, it was only six hours since they had escaped from the Zardalu.

  They took turns leading the way. Darya was in front, climbing carefully on hands and knees up a slope so steep and slippery that she was in constant danger of sliding back, when she caught a different glimmer of light ahead. She halted and turned back to E.C. Tally.

  "We're coming to another chamber," she whispered. "I can't tell how big it is, only that the tunnel's widening and the light looks different. Probably big enough for Zardalu. Should we keep going, or head back to the last branch point?"

  "If there are no actual sounds or sight of Zardalu, I would prefer to keep moving. This body is close to its point of personal exhaustion. Once we stop, it will be difficult to restart without a rest period."

  Tally's words forced Darya to admit what she had been doing her best to ignore: she was ready to fall on her face and collapse. Her hands were scraped raw, her knees and shins were a mass of lacerations, and she was so thirsty and dry-lipped that speech was an effort.

  "Stay here. I'll take a look." She forced herself up the last ten meters of sloping tunnel and reached the flat, hard floor of the chamber. She listened. Nothing. And nothing to see but the glowing, hemispherical bowl of the chamber's ceiling.

  "It seems all right," she whispered—and then froze. A soft grating sound started, no more than ten feet away. It was followed by a sighing whisper and the movement of air past Darya, as though some huge air pump was slowly beginning operations.

  Darya sat motionless on hands and knees. Finally she raised her head, to stare straight up at the shining bowl of the ceiling. She began to laugh, softly and almost silently.

  "What is wrong?" E.C. Tally whispered worriedly from back inside the air duct.

  "Nothing. Not one thing." Darya stood up. "Come on out, Tally, and you can have your rest. We made it. We're on the surface of Genizee. Feel the wind? It's nighttime, and the glow up there is the nested singularities."

  Darya had never in her whole life waited with such impatience for dawn. The forty-two-hour rotation period of Genizee stretched the end of night forever. First light bled in over the eastern horizon with glacial slowness, and it was two more hours after the initial tinge of pink before Darya was provided with a look at their surroundings.

  She and E.C. Tally were half a mile or less from the sea—how even its brackish water spoke to her dry throat—on a level patch of flat rock, fifty feet high. Nothing stood between them and the waters but stunted shrubs and broken rocks. They could reach the shoreline easily. But the night wind had died, and in the dawn stillness Darya could see the sea's surface moving in swirls. She imagined the movement of Zardalu, just offshore. The scene looked peaceful, but it would be dangerous to believe it.

  She and Tally waited another hour, licking drops of dew from cupped shrub leaves and from small depressions in the flat ground.

  As full light approached, Darya ascended to the highest nearby spire of rock and scanned the whole horizon. And there along the shoreline, so far away that it formed no more than a bright speck, she saw a flash of reflected light.

  It was the Indulgence. It had to be. Nothing else on the surface of Genizee would provide that hard, specular reflection. But there was still the problem of how to get there.

  The quick and easy way was to head for the shoreline and follow its level path to the ship. Quick, easy—and dangerous. Darya had not forgotten the last incident on the shore, when the four big sea creatures had approached her as she walked along the margin of the sea. Maybe they had not been Zardalu; but maybe there were other creatures on Genizee, just as dangerous.

  "We'll go over the rocks," she told E.C. Tally. "Get ready for more climbing." She led the way across a jumble of spiny horsetails and sawtooth cycads, jutting rock spires, and crumbling rottenstone, struggling along a route that paralleled the shore while staying a rough quarter of a mile away from it. As the sun rose higher, swarms of tiny black bugs rose in clouds and stuck to their sweating faces and every square inch of exposed skin.

  Tally did not complain. Darya recalled, with envy, that he had control over his discomfort circuits. If things became too unpleasant he would turn them off. If only she could do the same. She struggled on for another quarter of an hour. At last she paused, left the rutted path of broken stone that she had been following, and climbed laboriously to a higher level. She peered over the edge of a stony ridge and thought that she had never seen a more beautiful sight. The ship stood there, silent and welcoming.

  "Just five more minutes," she turned and whispered down to Tally. "We can't be more than a hundred yards from the Indulgence. We'll go right to the edge of the flat area of moss, then we'll stay in the shrubs and take a rest. When we have our energy back, we go for the Indulgence at a dead run. I'll secure the hatches; you go to the ship controls and take us to space."

  They stole forward, to a point where the brush ended and they would have a straight run across gray-green moss to the ship. Darya crouched low and brushed black flies from her face. At every breath, flies swarmed at her nose and mouth. She placed her hands to her face and breathed through a filter of closed fingers.

  One more minute, then this slow torture would be history. Darya rose to a full standing position and turned to nod to E.C. Tally.

  "Thirty seconds." She could see it all in her mind's eye: the race across the moss, the ship's rapid start-up procedure, the roar of the engines, and then that wonderful sound of a powered lift-off to a place where bloodthirsty Zardalu were just a bad memory. She could hear it happening now.

  She could hear it happening now.

  My God. She could hear it happening now.

  Darya turned. She took a deep breath to shout, inhaled a few dozen minute bugs, and started to choke and wheeze. A hundred yards from her, the Indulgence—her only hope, the only way off this awful world—rose with a roar of controlled power and vanished into the salmon-pink morning sky of Genizee.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hans Rebka sat on a rounded pyramid never designed for contact with the human posterior, and thought about luck.

  There was good luck, which mostly happened to other people. And there was bad luck, which usually happened to you. Sometimes, through observation, guile, and hard work, you could avoid bad luck—even
make it look like good luck, to others. But you would know the difference, even if no one else did.

  Well, suppose that for a change good luck came your way. How should you greet that stranger to your house? You could argue that its arrival was inevitable, that the laws of probability insisted that good and bad must average out over long enough times and large enough samples. Then you could welcome luck in, and feel pleased that your turn had come round at last.

  Or you could hear what Hans Rebka was hearing: the small, still voice breathing in his ear, telling him that this good luck was an impostor, not to be trusted.

  The seedship had been dragged down to the surface of Genizee and damaged. Bad luck, if you liked to think of it that way. Lack of adequate precautions, if you thought like Hans Rebka. Then they had been trapped by the Zardalu and forced to retreat to the interior of the planet. More bad luck? Maybe.