Divergence hu-1

by Charles Sheffield

  “For God’s sake, yes.” Darya leaned close. “But Tally, listen. We did it. The Zardalu have gone, all of them, down the vortex. But we can’t help you. I’m sorry. We don’t have medical equipment.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. Other body, back on Persephone. Waiting. Few more seconds, this body done.” The slitted eye opened wide, scanned. The stump of torso tried to sit up. “Darya Lang. Hans Rebka. Birdie Kelly. Last request. Turn me off. Understand? One week with no sensory input… like trillion years for human. Understand? Please. Turn me off.”

  “I will.” Birdie Kelly knelt at his side. “How?”

  “Switch. Base of brain.”

  “I’ll find it. I promise. And when you’re turned back on it will be in your new body. I’ll see to it myself.”

  A trace of a smile appeared on Tally’s guileless face. The first technicians had never gotten it right. The effect was ghastly.

  “Thank you. Good-bye.” The battered head lifted. “It is a strange thought to me, but I will — miss you. Every one of you.”

  The body of E. C. Tally shuddered, sighed, and died. Birdie Kelly reached down into the skull cavity, lifted the brain out, and unplugged it, then knelt with face downcast. It was illogical — this was only the temporary loss of a piece of computing equipment — but…

  I will miss you.

  The humans around Tally fell into a respectful silence.

  That was broken by Julius Graves, staggering toward them from higher up the corridor where Atvar H’sial had put him down and abandoned him. For the past few minutes he had been blundering blindly into walls, futilely calling out the names of the others. They had been otherwise engaged. Now he was following the sounds of their voices. And just when he seemed to be getting close, they had all stopped talking.

  Louis Nenda finally went over to him. “Come on, Councilor. The baddies are gone. It’s all over. You’re safe to join the party.”

  Graves peered at him, seeing nothing. “Louis Nenda? I think I owe you an apology. We all do. You planned this, didn’t you?”

  “Not just me. Me an’ At an’ Lang an’ Rebka. We were all in it.”

  “But you had the most dangerous role — you had to lure them to the trap. That story you gave the Zardalu, about leading them to a safe escape. It was all nonsense, wasn’t it?”

  Mention of the Zardalu made Nenda rub again at his sore back and middle. “I don’t know it was nonsense, exactly. Main thing is, they went into the vortex an’ the hell out of here. Mebbe they had a happy landing.”

  “And maybe?”

  “Mebbe they’re all frying in hell. Hope so. Hold still.” Nenda reached out and lifted Graves’s eyelids. He studied the misty blue eyes for a few seconds. “Don’t like the look of that. I tried to warn you about the Starburst. But I daren’t give too much warning, in case the Zardalu cottoned. You must have been staring straight at it when it popped. I don’t think you’ll get your sight back.”

  Graves made an impatient gesture. “That is a detail. Back on Miranda, I’ll have a new pair of eyes in less than a day. Tell me important things. Was anyone of our party killed?”

  “E. C. Tally. We’ve saved his brain. Nobody else is dead. We were lucky.”

  “Good. That simplifies things. We won’t have to waste time on medical matters.” Graves gripped Nenda’s arm. “We must act quickly. We have an assignment of the highest priority. Since I cannot see, the rest of you must — as soon as possible — arrange a meeting for me.”

  Nenda stared at him in irritation. The Zardalu were gone for two minutes, and Graves became as bossy as ever.

  He felt a repeat of his earlier urge to roll the councilor down the slope and into the vortex. It would make life a lot simpler. “Meeting? With who?”

  “Who else?” Graves tightened his grip and started walking Nenda forward, straight at one of the tunnel walls. “Who else, but Speaker-Between?”

  CHAPTER 26

  In the next twenty-four hours Julius Graves learned what Hans Rebka and Darya Lang had long understood: Speaker-Between had his own agenda, with its own timetable. He did not choose to appear simply because a human wished to talk to him. They had to await his convenience, and the logic of that convenience could not be predicted.

  With certain exceptions, the other survivors accepted that constraint. They concentrated on food, drink, and rest, and they needed all three. But Louis Nenda, muttering that being called a hero by everybody was worse than being called a villain, wandered off by himself; and a blind and insomniac Graves chose to follow, prowling the interior of the artifact with J’merlia as his eyes and guide. They rapidly confirmed Darya Lang’s theory that the artifact of Serenity was gigantic, equal in volume and living space to the biospheres of a dozen worlds; but only a tiny fraction of that could be attained, unless the traveler learned Speaker-Between’s knack of gliding through walls and floors.

  Graves lacked that ability. As the hours wore on his agitation grew. He finally came back to the main chamber and joined the others, still restless.

  “What’s the big deal?” Birdie Kelly asked. He had become Graves’s confidant, as well as the official custodian of E. C. Tally’s brain, which he carried with the distracted air of a man holding an unexploded bomb. “Tally isn’t suffering. Actually, he’s not doing anything at all. Must be nice to be able to switch yourself off when things get nasty.” Birdie became aware of Graves’s sightless glare. “Anyway, with the Zardalu gone, this place is safe enough. Come on, Councilor. Lighten up.”

  “I’m not worrying about Tally. And I’m not worrying about us.” Graves flopped moodily down by one of the big Zardalu stasis tanks. “I’m worried about these.” He rapped the side of the tank. “And what was in them.”

  “The Zardalu? They’re all dead.”

  “Are they? Can you prove that to me?” Graves closed his blind eyes and slumped there breathing through his mouth. As usual when he spoke to Birdie, all his questions seemed to be rhetorical.

  “I know they went down the vortex,” he continued, just when Kelly wondered if the councilor was falling asleep. “But who is to say that they are dead? Professor Lang is sure that the vortex is part of a transportation system. She says that Speaker-Between confirmed that, or at least didn’t deny it. Transportation systems are not designed to kill their passengers. Suppose that the Zardalu were transported safely — and have finished up somewhere in the spiral arm?”

  “Suppose they were?” Birdie sniffed. “Big deal! They’ve been gone for God knows how long, eleven thousand years or something like that, and there’s only a few of them left. I’m not afraid of the Zardalu.” Not when they’re all dead, or thirty thousand light-years away, he added to himself. “I can’t see ’em doing much damage in a couple of days.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about!” Graves’s tone provided the “you idiot,” though he did not say the words. “I’m worried about tracing them. If this vortex is anything like a Bose Network Transition Point, the transition trail decays exponentially with time. Today we may be able to say just where they went. Tomorrow it becomes a bit more difficult. A week from now it’s a major task, and in a month it’s impossible no matter what technology you have available. The Zardalu could be tucked away where no one can find them. What do you say to that?”

  Birdie was saved from saying anything by the return of Louis Nenda. That reluctant hero nodded coldly at Graves and Kelly and went over to the food-supply cabinets. He had a second satchel slung at his side, far bigger than his usual black one. He had made it, and a crude jacket, from webbing left behind by the Zardalu. He was packing the satchel and the jacket pockets with enough food for a week.

  “Wish we had a way to heat this,” he grunted. “Cold food is lousy.” He turned to Graves. “Your buddy’s back, you know. Over in the next room but one.”

  “Buddy?”

  “Old moan-’n’-groan. Speaker-Between.”

  Graves was on his feet at once. “What is he doing there?” But he did not w
ait for an answer. He was blundering out of the chamber, shouting to Lang and Rebka, who were deep in private conversation. “Professor! Captain! He is here. Now is our chance.”

  “Chance for what?” Hans Rebka had been busy telling age-old lies to Darya Lang, with her thorough approval. But again Graves did not wait for an answer. He allowed Nenda to lead him through the nearest chambers, while the rest of the group followed at their own pace.

  Nenda’s statement had been partly true. The Builder construct was half-visible, just the tail and lower part of the silver body. The upper part was presumably there, but it was hidden by the ceiling of the room, fifteen meters above their heads.

  Graves listened to Nenda’s description in total frustration. “But if he’s stuck up there, how the devil am I supposed to—”

  “Easy.” Nenda nodded to Kallik, who had entered with Atvar H’sial and J’merlia. “Go get ’em.”

  The Hymenopt crouched on seven limbs — the lost eighth was regrowing fast, and nearly a foot long — and sprang straight up. She grabbed and swung on Speaker-Between’s barbed tail. After a few seconds, they both began to descend.

  “The Zardalu are gone.” Graves started to speak even before Speaker-Between’s flower-petal head was fully in view. “But it is of paramount importance that we follow them — at once!”

  “If you would kindly release my tail…” The silver pentagon turned slowly to face Graves. “Your request cannot be fulfilled. The Zardalu indeed are gone. I therefore judge that they are losers. You were able to defeat and banish them. But the evaluation is not yet over. Is it necessary to remind you that there can be only one species judged fit to work with the Builders? I would be derelict in my own duties should I halt this evaluation before it is complete.”

  “You do not understand. Can you guarantee that the Zardalu were all killed when they entered the vortex?”

  “One moment.” Speaker-Between coalesced to a sphere, then just as rapidly rippled back to form the horned and tailed chimera. “That question is not easy to answer,” he said when he was fully reconstructed. “The Zardalu suffered an unstructured transition. It is not one that is highly forbidden, and therefore it is not inevitably fatal. The Zardalu could have survived it. They may be alive. They may be all dead. What is the relevance of the question?”

  “To you, perhaps very little. To us, and to all intelligences of the spiral arm, it is very great. If there is a chance that the Zardalu survive, it is imperative that we return to alert our fellows.”

  “Imperative to whom? It is not imperative to me, or to my masters.” Speaker-Between floated toward Julius Graves, settling close enough for the councilor to reach out and touch him. “You do not appear to understand. There is no technical difficulty in returning you to your homes, or to any location in the spiral arm or out of it; and it may be possible to determine where the Zardalu went, though that is less sure. But those issues are academic. I say again, the selection procedure is not complete. There remain both humans and Cecropians. Until only one remains, it is not permitted for you to leave.”

  “Hopeless.” Graves turned to the others. “Totally hopeless. I have worked with a score of intelligences, through the whole of the spiral arm, but with this — this silver bubble-brain there can be no meeting of minds, no basis for negotiation.”

  “Mebbe. And mebbe not.” Louis Nenda glanced around at the others. “D’you agree with the councilor? Nothin’ to lose, nothin’ to gain? ’Cause if you do, mind if I take a shot?”

  “Go ahead.” Hans Rebka had a little grin on his face. “Try your thing.”

  “All right.” Nenda walked over to stand right in front of Speaker-Between. “The selection procedure isn’t over, you say. I’ll buy that. But the Zardalu are out of it, so it’s just between two species. Cecropians, and humans. Right?”

  “That is a correct conclusion.”

  “And it doesn’t matter how many humans and Cecropians fight it out, does it? You were quite happy to leave us to tackle fourteen Zardalu, even though there were only a handful of humans, and a couple of aliens.”

  “In our experience, the number of entities is rarely the deciding factor.”

  “Fair enough. So the selection could be done just as well if there was only one of each — one human, and one Cecropian?”

  “That is wholly reasonable.”

  “All right, then. So what’s the point of keeping this whole crazy roster? Let the rest go — and keep just two of us. Me and Atvar H’sial. We’ll fight it out between us.”

  “No.” Graves was shaking his head violently. “That is a sacrifice that I will not ask of anyone. To leave you here, while the rest of us return to safety, it would be—”

  “Hey, what do you mean, safety? Goin’ back is different for me and At than for the rest of you. Look what happens to us when we get there. We’re charged with serious crimes the minute we hit civilization, and next thing you know we’re jailed or brain-wiped. Not much fun in that.

  “I am the person who brought those charges.” Graves’s skeletal face bore an expression of anguish. “I will petition to have them dropped. After what you and Atvar H’sial did, to save us from the Zardalu—”

  “You can petition, sure you can. Maybe that’ll get us off the hook. But maybe it won’t. Seems to me, At and yours truly ain’t much worse off here than we are there. For the rest of you, it’s a different story. You get to go back home, and write your nice little reports on everything that happened. Chase the Zardalu, too, if there’s time left over and they didn’t fly ass-over-tentacle up their own wazoo. But me.” He shrugged.

  The flower head was nodding. “Your internal disputes are not germane to my decision. However, the proposal you make is acceptable. If one human and one Cecropian remain to complete the selection process, the rest may return to the spiral arm. It can be to your most recent departure point, or to any other place of your choosing. If you wish it, and if I can ascertain it, your destination can even be the final arrival point of the Zardalu — assuming that location is able to support life.”

  “No, thanks.” Rebka cut off discussion, just as Graves was about to start up again. “We have to warn other people before we start chasing. We’ll go back to somewhere safe.”

  He turned to Louis Nenda. “As for you… I don’t usually find it hard to know what to say. But you’ve got me this time. All I can think of is, thanks — from all of us. And pass that thank-you on to Atvar H’sial.”

  Nenda grinned. “I will, in a minute. First I’ve got to explain to At what she just volunteered for.”

  Graves stared at him pop-eyed. “You are joking, aren’t you? Atvar H’sial already gave her approval for your proposal.”

  “Sure. Sure I’m joking.” Nenda was turning casually away. “Don’t worry about it. No problem.”

  But Kallik was stepping forward. “So it is settled, then. The rest will return. And Atvar H’sial, Louis Nenda, and their loyal servants, Kallik and J’merlia, will remain.”

  “Whoa, now.” Nenda held up his hand. “I never said that.” He looked at Speaker-Between and Hans Rebka. “If you don’t mind, At and I and J’merlia and Kallik need a few words in private. Five minutes?”

  He ushered the other three out of the chamber at once, not waiting for a nod of assent.

  “You see, Kallik.” His voice was oddly gentle as they came to a smaller room, out of earshot of the others. “You have to understand the situation. Things are different now. Not like what they was, back in the good old days before we went to Quake. They’ve changed. And you’ve changed, you and J’merlia. I’ve been translating for Atvar H’sial as we go, and she agrees with me completely. It wouldn’t be right for you to be slaves anymore — either of you.”

  “But Master Nenda, that is what we want! J’merlia and I, we followed you from Opal, only that we might be with you and serve you again.”

  “I know. Don’t think we don’t appreciate that, me and At.” Nenda had tears in his eyes. “But it wouldn’t work out,
Kallik. Not now. You’ve been deciding your own actions ever since we left you behind on Quake. You’ve been thinking for yourselves, doing for yourselves. You’ve tasted independence. You’ve earned independence.”

  “But we do not want independence!” J’merlia’s voice rose to a mournful wail. “Even though Atvar H’sial agrees with you, this should not be. It must not be.”

  “See? That makes my argument exactly.” Nenda reached out to pat J’merlia’s narrow thorax. “Listen to yourself! Atvar H’sial says what she wants you to do — an’ you start arguing with her. Would you have done that two months ago?”

  “Never!” J’merlia held up a claw to cover his compound eyes, appalled at his own temerity. “Argue with Atvar H’sial? Never. Master Nenda, with my most humble apologies and sincere regrets—”

  “Stow it, J’merlia. You’ve proved the point. You and Kallik go on back, and start helping to run the spiral arm. You’re as qualified as any species. I’ve known that for a long time.”

  “But we don’t want to help to run the spiral arm!”

  “Who does? That’s what humans call the Smart Bugs’ Burden. You gotta go back there and carry it, even though you don’t want to. Otherwise, it will be the Ditrons who’ll have to organize things.”

  “Master Nenda, please say that you are joking! The Ditrons, why they have less brains than — than some of the—”

  “Before you put your foot in it real bad, J’merlia, I’ll say yeah, I was joking. But not about the fact that you and Kallik have to go back. For one thing, Kallik’s the only intelligent being in the spiral arm who’s actually talked to Zardalu. That might be important.”

  J’merlia crawled forward and placed his head close to Atvar H’sial’s hind limbs. “Master Nenda, I hear you. But I do not want to leave. Atvar H’sial is my dominatrix, and has been since I was first postlarval.”

  “Don’t gimme that—”

  “Allow me, Louis, if you will.” The pheromonal message from Atvar H’sial carried a glint of dry humor. “With all respect, violent action is your forte, not reasoned persuasion.” The towering Cecropian crouched low to the floor and brought her smooth blind head close to J’merlia. “Let us reason together, my J’merlia. Would you agree with me when I say that any intelligent being either is a slave, or is not a slave? That those two conditions are the only two logical possibilities?”