He leaned forward to put his mouth right next to Graves’s ear. “Don’t say anything or do anything,” he breathed. “But help may be on the way.”
“What?” Graves said, loud enough to be heard twenty yards off. “You’ll have to speak up, Commissioner. My hearing isn’t too good.”
“Nothing,” Birdie said hurriedly. “I didn’t say a thing.”
Several of the Zardalu turned to stare at them with those huge, heavy-lidded eyes of cerulean blue. Before Birdie had time to feel guilty at rousing them to attention, another land-cephalopod, closer to the door, started up onto his powerful splayed tentacles. There was a pipe-organ whistle from the ingestion organ, and the Zardalu headed out of the chamber.
Birdie had never seen anything that big move so fast and so silently. The Zardalu flashed out of the room like a silent specter of midnight blue, one moment there, the next vanished. Birdie heard the sound of rapid movement outside and a startled cry. He knew that the sound had not come from the vanished Zardalu. Those were human vocal cords, the same ones that now produced a hoarse roar of pain.
“What was that?” Graves asked. “What happened?”
Birdie did not need to answer. The vanished Zardalu was coming back into the room. It was not alone. Dangling two meters from the ground, suspended by one brawny tentacle wrapped around his neck to carry his weight and cut off his breathing, hung the kicking, purple-faced figure of Louis Nenda.
“Not to spy.” Louis Nenda rubbed at his bruised throat. Released from the killing grip of the tentacle but with another sinewy extensor wrapped snugly about his chest and arms, he was reluctant to meet the gaze of either humans or aliens. He kept his eyes downcast, and he spoke in a low voice.
“Not to spy,” he said again. “Or to turn against my fellow humans. I came here to — to try to — negotiate.”
Kallik was crouched in front of him, half her ring of eyes fixed on his expression, the others attentive to her masters. The leader of the Zardalu whistled and fluted, and its companion’s grip on Nenda tightened.
“You were told in the last meeting that you were not to take the initiative,” Kallik translated. “You were told to stay and arrange with the being called Speaker-Between for the Zardalu’s immediate departure from this place. Are humans too stupid to understand direct command?”
“No.” Nenda was struggling for breath. The ropy arm around his chest was gradually tightening. “We held that meeting, just like we said we would. But it was no good! Speaker-Between wouldn’t agree they could leave. We can’t control him!”
There was a louder series of clicks from Holder as those words were passed on.
“But you suggested that you could. You must be taught a lesson,” Kallik translated.
Another tentacle came forward and wrapped its ropy end section around Nenda’s left leg. It began to pull. As the limb was slowly twisted and stretched downward, Nenda roared in agony.
“Let him go! Right now.” Julius Graves rashly ran forward to stretch up and beat at the Zardalu’s lower body. Another tentacle came up and batted him contemptuously away. At the same time, Kallik produced a rapid series of chirps and whistles.
The twisting and pulling ended, and Nenda sagged in the Zardalu’s grasp.
“I have explained,” Kallik said to Graves, lying winded on the floor, “that humans are quite different from Hymenopts. The removal of any limb would be far more serious in Louis Nenda’s case than in mine. It would probably result in death.”
Graves nodded. But as Nenda’s leg was released, Holder spoke again to Kallik.
“Holder asks,” the Hymenopt said to Nenda, “why should your death matter? You were once my master, and perhaps I am trying to serve you, even now. I said that is not so. But Holder points out that the young ones are in need of proper food, and the value of your continued existence is not clear. Holder is sure that you were attempting to spy, even though you deny it. and Finder, the Zardalu who captured you, thought that it saw another stranger, far along the corridor, one that fled when you were taken. Another spy, perhaps, who escaped when you could not? But that is not the issue here. Can you suggest one reason why you should be allowed to live? If so, give it quickly.”
Nenda glanced at Julius Graves and Birdie Kelly, then looked away. His face and neck were covered in sweat. “I can give Holder a reason,” he said huskily. “That is why I came here. I can be very valuable to you, if you will promise that my life will be spared. And if you don’t hurt me any more. I am not able to — to stand more pain.”
“Holder is amused by your ignorance and presumption,” Kallik replied after another brief exchange with the Zardalu leader. “A Zardalu makes no promise. But it will listen to you, rather than killing you at once. What do you possibly have that is of value?”
Nenda licked his lips. “Tell Holder this. They want to escape from here and get back to a planet in the old Zardalu Communion. Well, I can show them how to do it. Right now.”
Another whistled exchange. “Holder does not believe you.”
“Tell Holder that I can prove it. In her travels through this artifact, one of our party found the entry point to a Builder transportation system. She told the rest of us about it — explained exactly where it is, how to use it. It’s in working order. Tell Holder I can take her there, and they can be on their way to where they want to go. They’ll be gone before Speaker-Between even knows they found the entry point.”
“Nenda! You can’t do this.” Julius Graves had dragged himself back to his feet. “God knows, I don’t want you or anyone else killed. But think of what you’ll be doing if you show them how to make a transition. You’ll be putting Zardalu back into the spiral arm, letting them run free to start their—”
A muscular tentacle reached out and swatted Graves across his upper arm and shoulder. Graves cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor.
Birdie Kelly hurried across to his side. While the Zardalu held a longer conversation among themselves, he examined Graves.
“Not broken,” he said softly. “A deep bruise. Maybe a cracked collarbone, though I don’t think so. Hold still. Don’t try to move your arm. I’ll tie it against your chest.” He glared across at Louis Nenda and raised his voice. “And you, you bag of slime. You’re worse than Kallik. You’d better hope we don’t get out of this alive. Or your name and Kallik’s will be a curse everywhere in the spiral arm.”
“Silence.” Kallik gestured to J’merlia, who had all the time been crouched close to the floor, his pale-lemon eyes jittering nervously on their stalks from one speaker to the next. The Lo’tfian crept forward to stand next to Julius Graves.
“Help him to walk, J’merlia, if he needs it,” Kallik said. “Holder has decided. We are going with Nenda — all of us. The Zardalu will inspect the transportation system. And it had better function as Nenda promises, or you will all suffer.” She pointed one wiry limb at the Zardalu standing next to her, where a pale-orange oval was just visible behind the fringe of tentacles. “Holder says we should not try to escape as we travel. The young ones are hungry. They do not mind how their food is provided to them — dead, or alive.”
The journey through the darker tunnels of the Builder artifact took a long time. The Zardalu were willing to investigate Louis Nenda’s claim, but they were not naive enough to believe that there was no trickery or traps. They went slowly, using hostages to probe suspect areas and inspecting every corridor closely before they went into it.
Julius Graves and J’merlia were made to walk in front, as triggers for possible booby traps. They were closely followed by six Zardalu. Birdie Kelly, next in line, was amazed to see that the newly born were still emerging, even while the blue towers in front of him were gliding forward. As he watched, the bright apricot of two more miniature Zardalu emerged from their birth sacs in the necklace of pouches. As soon as they were completely born they slithered down the rubbery, oil-coated trunk to take refuge beneath the main body, sheltered by surrounding tentacles. Minutes later the
little beaks appeared, begging for food. The parents fed them as they walked with scraps taken from the broad webbing satchels circling the base of their torsos.
Louis Nenda was at Kelly’s side. Birdie rebuffed the other man’s attempt to talk to him. After a couple of tries Nenda turned around to Kallik, who walked at the rear in the middle of the remaining eight Zardalu.
“Ask Holder somethin’, will you?” he said. “Ask what happens when we get to the transportation system. Remind her how much I’m doing to help ’em. Say it’s only fair that I should be set free.”
There was a fluting whistle from the giant Zardalu as the message was translated.
“Holder agrees, at least in part,” Kallik said. “If everything is as you promised, you will not be killed. If everything is not as you say, you should be trembling.”
Birdie turned his head. “You ought to be eaten, Nenda, you lousy traitor. That’d save the rest of us — because your stinking carcass would poison every Zardalu that touched it. If there’s any justice, you’ll be the first to go.”
“Justice? Ah, but there ain’t no justice, Commissioner.” Nenda was staring all around him, eyes bloodshot and intense. “Not here, and not anywhere in the spiral arm. You’ve been around long enough to know that. There’s only people like you and me, and blue bastards like the Zardalu.”
Birdie glared at him. The damnable thing was that Nenda was right. There was no justice. There never had been, and there never would be. If there were, he would not be here at all. He would be back home on Opal, safe in bed.
Birdie made his own gloomy inspection of their surroundings as they walked on through dark corridors and big, open chambers. Even this tiny piece of the artifact was huge and eerily alien. Since arriving here and being captured by the Zardalu, he had been dragged from one place to the next, never having an opportunity to know quite where he was going or why. Now, examining the objects that they passed, Birdie realized that he could not guess the purpose of any of them. Something certainly kept the place ticking; there was fresh air in the corridors, food in the lockers, and functioning waste disposal units for beings with needs as different as those of humans and Lo’tfians and Zardalu. But it was a wholly hidden something. There was no sign of mechanisms, no pumps or supply lines or ducting. Birdie had no idea how the artifact functioned. It was depressing to reflect that he was never likely to know.
He was pulled out of his musings when he bumped into the massive back of one of the Zardalu. Ahead of them, J’merlia and Julius Graves had suddenly stopped and turned around. They had reached the edge of a slope that spiraled gently down into darkness.
“What is wrong?” Kallik called from behind.
“It gets really steep down there,” Graves said. “The tunnel is narrowing, and past this point it’s no more than three or four meters wide. The gravity field is increasing, too. Once I take another ten steps I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull back.”
“That’s all right.” Nenda pushed forward through the solid rank of the Zardalu. “Stop where you are. Feel that stronger air current? It comes from the vortex itself. We’re nearly there, at the ramp that leads to the transportation system.”
He moved forward again, to stand at the very brink of the descending spiral. The breeze from the rotating singularity at the end of the tunnel blew his perspiration-drenched dark hair back from his face. “Kallik, tell Holder we are here. Explain that using the system is easy. All they have to do is walk down and enter the vortex itself.”
He turned, trying to move back to join Birdie Kelly. But the Zardalu would not let him through. Instead, Birdie and Kallik were pushed forward, so that within a few seconds all the Zardalu stood to the rear of the group.
Holder fluted and whistled.
“They say we must go first,” Kallik said. “All of us. Before they enter the system, we must do so. We re going with them, back to the spiral arm.”
Nenda glanced over his shoulder, down the curved slope that led to the vortex, then looked back to Kallik. “But I’m the one who brought them here! Tell ’em that, Kallik. Tell ’em they promised I’d have my freedom.”
Julius Graves laughed, wincing at the pain it produced in his injured arm and shoulder. “No, Louis Nenda, they didn’t promise. No Zardalu said anything like that. You heard what you wanted to hear. They never intended to allow any of us to go free. When we arrive at their destination, and they have no more use for us, you’ll learn what their plans for us really are. I am not a vindictive man — a councilor cannot afford to be — but in this case I agree with Birdie Kelly. If there is justice in the universe, you will be the first to go.”
“And if there is risk,” Kallik said, “then Holder says you will share it. If there is danger down at the vortex, speak of it now. For perhaps with that warning your life will be spared.”
Nenda turned to face the Hymenopt. He opened his mouth as though to reply, but instead he placed two fingers between his teeth and produced a high-pitched whistle followed by a loud cry: “Close your eyes! Cover them with your hands.”
As he shouted, a small black ellipsoid came curving up in a smooth arc from the dark depths of the tunnel.
Nenda shot a glance at the others. He cursed. Kallik and J’merlia had at once obeyed his shouted command and tucked their heads down toward the protection of their multiple legs. But Julius Graves and Birdie Kelly were doing the worst thing possible: they were staring straight at the ovoid as it passed over their heads.
He could do nothing about Graves, but Birdie Kelly was within reach. Nenda thrust his arm out, a fraction of an inch from Birdie’s face, so that the other man reflexively blinked. Nenda held his arm there and at the same moment squeezed his own eyes tight shut. He threw his other arm up to shield his face. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was a Zardalu tentacle, reaching up toward the oval shape to smash it back where it had come.
The Zardalu was a split second too late. With his eyes closed and one forearm jammed hard across them, Louis Nenda saw the world turn bright red.
He felt his skin tingling in the flood of radiation. He stood and waited, for what felt like forever and could have been no more than half a second. The light level in the tunnel had to be just incredible if so much could bleed its way in past his arm and through his eyelids.
When everything went black he uncovered his eyes. He grabbed Birdie Kelly in both arms and pushed him over to drop to the floor of the tunnel. He landed on top of Birdie, curling into a ball as he did so.
His precautions were unnecessary. The Starburst must have triggered just a meter or two in front of the assembled Zardalu. When the brightness of a supernova flashed into being, they had all been staring at it. Now every Zardalu eye was covered by tentacles, and fluid was beginning to seep past the fine tendrils at the ends. Disorganized whistles, clicks, and moans filled the tunnel.
Nenda’s own world was a maze of flickering images, with the red network of veins in his eyelids superimposed on them. But he could see. Well enough to know that their problems were just beginning.
Sightless Zardalu blocked the way out of the tunnel. They were thrashing around with their tentacles, grabbing blindly at anything above waist height. The way back along the tunnel was closed by a mass of writhing, muscular snakes.
For the moment Nenda was far enough away to be safe. Birdie Kelly had pulled free and was crawling toward a niche where the wall met the floor. Nenda was tempted to follow, but there was barely room for one person. If Birdie could remain tucked into the narrow space and survive the groping tentacles, fine. If not…
Nenda turned to the others. J’merlia and Kallik had dropped instinctively to the ground in a splay of thin limbs. The big problem was Julius Graves. The Councilor had been blinded. He was groping his way farther along the tunnel, to the place where it steepened rapidly. A couple more steps and he would fall forward, pulled by the increasing gravity field past the point of no return and into the vortex.
Nenda dared not shout a warning. The
Zardalu would home in on his call. He launched himself toward the councilor, grabbed him around the knees, and heaved backward.
Graves was caught with one leg in the air, ready to take another blind step. He fell sideways and to the left, crying out with pain as he landed on his injured arm.
That was all the clue that the Zardalu needed. Half a dozen long tentacles converged at once on the place. They reached for Graves. But they found Louis Nenda.
Before he saw them he felt their touch on his leg, like oiled silk over solid rubber. He tried to escape by crawling farther down the tunnel, toward the vortex. He was too late. One sinewy arm circled his legs; another coiled around his waist. They tightened and lifted him high in the air. His head hit the tunnel roof. Then he was being dragged toward the Zardalu. Even before the pain began, he knew what was going to happen. The tentacles around his body and his legs belonged to two different aliens. One of Holder’s long arms had him at the waist, but another Zardalu at the front of the group held his knees. They were both blinded, unaware of what the other was doing. And each was intent on pulling Louis Nenda within reach of its own beak.
Held high above the heads of the Zardalu, Nenda saw Darya Lang, Hans Rebka, and E. C. Tally appear in the tunnel behind them. They each held a flashburn unit. They began using them to sting and burn the Zardalu from the rear, forcing them to spin around so that they would lose their sense of direction, then driving them forward along the corridor in reflexive jerks.
But that would not help Nenda. The two holding him were in the front of the group, shielded from the humans by the Zardalu behind them.
The tentacles began to tighten on his body, pulling in opposite directions. He could not breathe. His lower back felt as if it were breaking. He was stretched, pulled apart by terrible forces. He knew what was going to happen. In another second he would be torn in two. He could do nothing to prevent it.
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