Hans realized that, unusual for him, he was procrastinating. At the moment Darya certainly didn't sound miserable. She was standing behind him, humming tunelessly to herself and massaging his neck and shoulders. She probed stiff-fingered into his trapezius muscles, hard enough to hurt. It felt great.
"Relax, Hans," she said. "You're too tense. What has you so knotted up?"
"I was thinking that we fit really well together."
"Mm." The grip on his shoulders tightened. "The men from Phemus Circle. One-track minds. I don't believe you, you know."
"You don't think we fit well?"
"Sure we do. But I don't believe that's what you were thinking about when I asked you."
Which only proved that he had been right. He couldn't fob Darya off with false reasons. It had to be the bald truth.
"I'm going back to the Phemus Circle, Darya. I have to."
Her fingers froze on his back. "You've received orders?"
"No. Worse." He turned to face her. "I made the decision for myself."
Her hand came up again to touch his cheek. "Can you tell me why?"
He could hear her uncertainty. "I want to explain, Darya, but I don't know if you'll understand. Maybe no one can understand who isn't from the Phemus Circle."
"Try me."
"You think you know the Phemus Circle, because you've visited it. But you don't really know the Circle at all. Maybe you have to be born there. When I was stuck inside Paradox, I started thinking about my childhood on Teufel in a different way. Half my friends died before they were ten years old, from predators and drought and malnutrition, or while we were on water and food duty. It seemed inevitable at the time. I've finally realized it's anything but. It doesn't have to be that way—on Teufel, or anywhere else. Since I became an adult I've been sent to one world after another, wherever and whenever a bad problem appeared. I study the situation, and I solve the problem—every time. The infant deaths on Styx, the encephalo-parasite on Subito, the runaway biosphere on Pelican's Wake, infertility on Scaldworld, the crop die-off on Besthome, the universal sleep on Mirawand, the black wave on Nemesis—there isn't one that has beaten me. It's a great feeling, shipping home and thinking: that's another one in the bag.
"I had to leave the Phemus Circle completely before I could recognize a different truth. I haven't been solving problems, you see, not in any final sense. I've been plastering over them. The real difficulty lies higher, in the government that runs the Phemus Circle. There are excellent ways of modifying planetary biospheres, small changes that don't cost a fortune and don't harm native stock, but translate into enormous lifestyle improvements for human colonists. Hell, I've done terraforming, myself, on loan in Alliance territory. We've known the techniques for thousands of years. But I've never once applied those methods in the Phemus Circle. Teufel remains as it was the day I left it. So do all the other god-forsaken Circle worlds."
"Why?"
"That's the big question. That's what I have to find out. It's as though the people who control the central government of the Phemus Circle want people to live short, stunted lives. They have more control that way. But I'm going to change things."
"How?"
"You keep asking questions I wish I could answer. I have no idea how. But I'll do it, or I'll die trying. I'm sorry, Darya. Will you forgive me?"
"Forgive you? For what? For being responsible, and brave? There's nothing to forgive. I'm proud of you, Hans."
"But it means that we won't—"
She silenced him by leaning forward and kissing him gently on the lips. "There. We're going to see a lot of each other whenever we have a chance, but we are going to have separate jobs and separate lives. Right?"
"That's one reason I feel so bad. To talk to you this way, just when your work has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" Her laugh was not at all the laugh of a broken-hearted woman. "Hans, I've got the best and fattest job ahead of me that a research worker could ever have. Before all this started, I was happy to study beings whom I thought had left the spiral arm at least three million years ago. Now I have all that old knowledge, plus more new information than I ever hoped for. And with Quintus Bloom gone I'm the only person, the only one in the whole arm, with all the information. Don't you see it's my duty to produce a final, definitive study of the Builders? I'll even include Bloom's theory, though I know it can't be right."
"How can you be sure of that?"
"You'll be sure, too, if you think about it. Because you know Quintus. If he is in the future, and they have time travel, he would make one action his top priority. What would it be?"
Hans frowned. "He'd send a message back. To prove to everybody that his theories are right."
"Exactly. And he would do it in a way we couldn't possibly overlook. No cryptic polyglyphs for him, no hiding in the middle of an artifact. So he can't be right. But he'll be in my reports anyway, along with every other speculation about the Builders. Can you see what a huge job I have ahead of me? It will take years and years of labor, and I'm going to need all the library support and computer power and research facilities that Sentinel Gate can produce. This is work I can't do on the road. But I'll still have to travel—the Phemus Circle had artifacts, and it's at the intersection of two of the other major clades. I'll visit you, sure I will, wherever you happen to be. And you can visit me whenever you get the chance, and stay as long as you like."
"I will. No shared home, though. My job will be dangerous. The powers-that-be in the Phemus Circle won't like what I'm planning to do."
"They can't touch me here on Sentinel Gate."
"Darya, they might. If I'm successful, we don't know how desperate they may get."
"I'll take that chance. I'm not afraid of risks, not any more. One day, when I've finished my work, I'll come to the Phemus Circle. We'll share the dangers."
"But no children."
"Hey! I didn't agree to that. They won't live in the Phemus Circle, of course, they'll grow up on Sentinel Gate."
"And be spoiled rotten."
"Are you suggesting that I was spoiled? Don't bother to tell me." She leaned past him to stare at the status displays. "We'll be through the final Bose Transition in five minutes. Come to the forward observation port after that. We'll do some practical planning." She stroked the short hair at the back of his neck, sending tingles through him, and was gone.
Hans stared at the controls as another message appeared over the superluminal communications network. Was that it, the confrontation that he had so been dreading? Darya was an exceptional woman. And a super-smart one. Because there it was, another artifact vanishing exactly as she had predicted. Every last one of them was going, according to the bulletins.
The Salvation was about to clear its final Bose Transition. Only when that last jump had been taken would he feel free to join Darya. The Bose Network was not a Builder creation, as he had once feared, but its nodes were certainly affected by the presence or absence of nearby Builder artifacts. He would be far easier in his mind as soon as he was sure that the ship could fly the rest of the way subluminal.
One minute more to the Bose Transition. Hans's expression changed to a scowl as he checked the screen displays for the rear section of the ship. That damned Zardalu! He'd feel easier when the jump was over, and easier still when that midnight-blue nightmare was gone from the Salvation. Louis Nenda claimed that the beast was safe, but it had managed to work a tentacle loose while the ship was first going superluminal. If it had quietly used that tentacle to free itself, instead of flailing at every fixture within reach, it might now control the whole ship.
Maybe the Fourth Alliance did need a mature Zardalu for study, Hans thought, as the Bose indicator blinked in with a transition accurate to the microsecond. Maybe they would pay a huge reward for it, as Nenda and Atvar H'sial claimed. But did the two of them have to choose the biggest and meanest Zardalu that Rebka had ever seen?
They were feeding the brute now, with great chunks of synthetic meat. We
re they trying to grow it even bigger? Well, good luck to them. Hans checked the control settings one more time and stood up. He had more productive—and pleasant—ways to pass the remaining days of subluminal flight.
Nenda and Atvar H'sial were feeding the Zardalu. They were also talking to it. And it was just as well that no one else on board could follow the conversation.
"Don't give me that." Nenda was using the extreme form of the master-slave language. "I saw what you did with just one tentacle free. You smashed bits of the ship all to hell, so me and At got blamed for bringing you aboard. We should have let you rot in Labyrinth. Taking over control of the Salvation is one thing, but unstrapping you so you can help do it is another."
"Master." The land-cephalopod, floating in front of Nenda, could scarcely move in its double-strapped harness. But the long purple tongue reached out, inviting him to step on it with his boot.
"You can put that thing away. It's disgusting."
"Yes, Master." Four feet of tongue slid back into the narrow vertical mouth. "Master, I can help you to conquer this ship. I lost control of myself earlier. That is why I broke things. I thought that I was about to die."
"Maybe you are—or worse. The people on Miranda say they want to examine an adult Zardalu. That's you. But when they say 'examine,' they really mean 'dissect.' See, it all depends what I tell 'em. If I say you belong to me, and I need you back, that's one thing. You stay in one piece, no cutting. But if I say you don't belong to me, an' I don't care what happens to you . . ."
"I do belong to you. Completely. I will be your willing slave. Master, do not leave me in the hands of strange humans. My brood-mates and I learned our lesson on Serenity and on Genizee. We know that compared with your Master Race, all other species of the spiral arm are weak, pitiful, sentimental imbeciles. Humans are the most resourceful, intelligent, terrifying, and cruel beings in the whole spiral arm." The saucer-sized cerulean eyes saw a scowl appear on Nenda's face. "And also, of course, the most merciful."
"Better believe it. All of it. Hold on a minute, though. Gotta talk to my partner." Louis turned to Atvar H'sial. The Cecropian had been monitoring the exchange through Nenda's pheromonal translation. She had been given a censored version of the Zardalu's final comments. Delivery of the "weak, pitiful, sentimental imbeciles" comment had been postponed. Nenda would like to see Cecropian and Zardalu go fifteen rounds with the gloves off, but this was not the day for it.
"At, we got to make a few decisions real soon. We're gonna drop Jelly-bones here off on Miranda, but what next? Do we try to steal this ship? Do we go to Sentinel Gate with the others? And do we make a pick-up at Miranda later, when they're all done with Zardie?"
"No, we do not steal this ship. No, we do not go to Sentinel Gate." The emphatic pheromones became charged with suspicion. "Will the Lang female be there? I feel sure of it. We will not go there. But yes, we do collect the Zardalu after it has been examined. That all fits the grand design."
"It does?"
"Certainly. Why steal this ship, which is of indifferent performance? We will have plenty of money when the Zardalu has been delivered to Miranda."
"But no ship."
"Miranda Spaceport offers the largest selection of vessels in the whole spiral arm. We will acquire one. We will then claim our Zardalu. If you like, we will visit the Mandel system and determine if your own ship, the Have-It-All, has reappeared there. And then—we return to Genizee."
"Genizee! At, no offense, but you're out of your mind. I spent months tryin' to get out of that place."
"In very different circumstances. First, the Anfract is no longer to be feared. Any dangerous aspects were a consequence of its being a Builder artifact. The same is true of any problem we had in escaping from Genizee itself. Finally, let me remind you of Quintus Bloom and Darya Lang's assertion: the Zardalu will play an important part, along with the other clades, in the future of the spiral arm. And we, Atvar H'sial and Louis Nenda, will control the Zardalu! Already, they think of themselves as our slaves. Let me ask you a question: Do you know of any other planet in the spiral arm that we can make completely ours?"
"No place that I'd want to go. We could probably buy Mucus for next-to-nothin', but you can have my share. All right, I'll go for the deal as you've pitched it. But I don't know why you keep goin' on about me and Darya Lang, that's old history." Nenda turned back to the waiting Zardalu. "My partner has pleaded with me on your behalf. We will make sure you don't get damaged too much on Miranda."
"Thank you, Master." The purple tongue came slithering out.
"Put that away. I don't ever want to see it again."
"Yes, Master."
"And after we get you back from the people on Miranda, we're going to take you home. To Genizee. Then you'll help us make plans for all the Zardalu to come back to space. Under our control. You understand?"
"Yes, Master. I will serve you faithfully. If necessary, I personally will kill any Zardalu who seeks to do otherwise, or who disobeys you in any way."
"Attagirl. That's what I like to hear. If you're really good till we get to Miranda, I'll let you glide down the gangway on your own tentacles and wow the locals. That's a promise." Louis turned to Atvar H'sial. "Okay. Done deal. Only thing left is to collect the money."
"That, and one thing more." The Cecropian followed Nenda as he started out of the cargo hold. The pheromones were oddly hesitant. Nenda wondered. Atvar H'sial was not noted for diffidence.
"What's up, At?"
"I wish to request a great favor of you. These past weeks have been most frustrating for me. I have lacked communication ability with anyone but you. And yet the future of the spiral arm, we hear, must involve increased interclade activity. Therefore, I have reached a decision. I must perfect an ability to interface directly with humans."
"No problem. We'll get a ship with plenty of computer capacity."
"That will not teach me the human outlook, as it is reflected in your curious speech. I will need a computer as the interface, true. But I must also converse with a human."
"What the hell do you think I am? A peanut?"
"A patient human. One willing to devote substantial time to the effort."
"Forget it."
"Precisely. Which brings me to my request. Would you consider asking Glenna Omar on my behalf to travel with us, to assist me in perfecting my human speech skills? She already taught me to employ beat frequencies within my echolocation system, and so offer the longer wavelength sounds accessible to humans. Thus, a greeting." Atvar H'sial produced a grating low-pitched groan. With a lot of imagination Nenda decided that it could be interpreted as "Hello."
"Why don't you ask her?"
"Improbable as it seems, I think she admires you more than me. The request would be received better from you. Also, you are able to frame it with more precision in human terms."
Nenda swung round and stared up at the Cecropian's blind head. "Let's get this straight. You want me to try an' talk Glenna Omar into signing on with us? Long term."
"Precisely. If you are successful, I will acknowledge a major debt to you."
"Damn right you will. It sounds impossible."
"But you will make the attempt?"
"I don't know. When?"
"As soon as possible."
"Hell."
"I hope not. You will do it?"
"All right. I'll talk to her." Louis glared up at his towering partner. "But I don't want you watching. You'll mess up my style."
"I will not move from this spot until you return."
"Might take a while no matter what she says."
"I will wait. And I will steel myself for the possibility that you will return with bad news."
"You do that. I'd better get it over with."
The passenger quarters were in the bow, far from the cargo hold. Louis started the trek forward, wondering how he was going to handle this. There wasn't a chance in a million that Glenna would agree, but he had to make Atvar H'sial believe that he had
done his best.
In the mid-section of the ship he came across Kallik and J'merlia sitting cross-legged on the floor. He stopped as he came up to them, struck by another thought.
"What are you two planning to do, now the trouble's all over?"
Lemon-yellow eyes on their short eyestalks and doublet rings of black eyes gazed back at him in shared amazement. "Why," said Kallik, "we are coming with you."
"And with my dominatrix, Atvar H'sial," J'merlia added. "What else?"
Which made the presence of Glenna Omar unnecessary. J'merlia was the perfect interpreter. It would be no good telling that to At, though. Louis knew from experience, the Cecropian was nothing if not stubborn. If she insisted that she wanted to learn human speech from a human . . .
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