"How long ago did all this happen?"
"Again, opinions differ. The evidence seems to be ambiguous, although you'd have to ask a C.R.E. scientist for details. Millions of years ago, at least—maybe hundreds of millions, or billions."
"And you say it's got a planet inside it?"
"No, I said that it might have a planet inside it. It's possible that there are only half a dozen shells, built as a succession of platforms on a natural surface. On the other hand, it might be shells all the way down to the centre . . . well, not all the way down, because that would be impossible. Maybe there's a core of molten iron, as there would be at the centre of a planet. Maybe there's some kind of giant fusion reactor—a starlet. That would make the megastructure into a kind of multiple Dyson sphere. Nobody knows, although everyone is trying to find out. In the meantime, we search the habitats on the accessible levels for clues, and for new technologies. The Tetrax are very interested in the spectrum of humanoid technologies. Even when they already have gadgets of their own for doing the same jobs, they like to study all the different ways there are of doing things. They're very big on matters of technological style. That's why they're interested in your cargo, I presume."
"I see," she said. She didn't. My explanation had been the barest thumbnail sketch; I'd hardly scratched the surface of the fabulous enigma that was Asgard.
The food arrived then, so we took a break. It didn't last long. She was still avid to get on, even though she seemed to have accepted the fact that it was now too late to do anything before morning. I was tired, and so were her men, but she had far too much agitation churning in her skull to allow her to think of sleep just yet. Her men made themselves as comfortable as they could on the floor, where there was just enough space for them all to lie down, given a certain amount of geometrical ingenuity, but she and I kept going.
"So you've been out into these levels before—dozens of times, or hundreds?" she asked me, still trying to grasp the situation into which she'd rushed.
"Must be nearly a hundred by now," I confirmed. "I've been here a long time. Mickey Finn and I were among the first humans to get here. It seemed like a big adventure. It was a big adventure. Those were the glory days of star travel—I guess things must have changed a great deal since the war broke out."
"That's good," she said. "We're going to need an experienced man. We'll be depending on you, Rousseau. The Star Force will be depending on you. The human race will be depending on you. So how soon can we get started? And when I say how soon} I want to take your first estimate, cut it in half, and then shave a bit more off."
"I don't have a truck any more," I pointed out, a trifle disingenuously. "Even if I did, I couldn't track Myrlin over the surface. The Tetrax might be willing—and they're certainly able—to tell you where he is until he goes down to level one, but after that, it'd be hopeless."
"We'll have to take him out from space, then," she said. "We can do that."
"No you can't," I told her. "The Tetrax won't permit that. They might help you to chase him, but shooting at the surface from orbit is absolutely out of the question."
"Nothing is absolutely out of the question," she assured me, "but we need to stay on the right side of the Tetrax if we can. So we get them to help us track him. We chase him. We follow him down into the levels. What next? And I don't want to hear the word can't."
"What do you expect me to do—follow his footprints in the snow?"
"If that's what's necessary," she said. "And don't ever lie to me again, Trooper Rousseau. I don't like it. Believe me, now you're in the Star Force, you don't want to get on the wrong side of your commanding officer. How soon can we get the truck ready to depart?"
She was crazy, but she wasn't a fool. I saw my mistake immediately. I'd told the Tetron peace-officer that I didn't know where Saul's truck was, but I'd told her en passant that he and I had had a reciprocal arrangement. He'd had the codes necessary to get into my apartment and secure my keys. I had the codes necessary to get into his and secure his.
It occurred to me then that the peace-officer must also have known that I was lying. He hadn't taken the trouble to ask me where the truck was in the hope that I'd tell him, but in order to let me know that he didn't have it.
The Tetrax had no intention of chasing Myrlin—but they had no objection to letting me do it, if I were crazy enough. Their hands might be tied by their own law, but they must have figured out by now that Saul Lyndrach had really been on to something, and they didn't want some mysterious outworlder monopolizing the discovery any more than they wanted Amara Guur to get his dirty hands on it. The game was bigger than I'd imagined—and the bigger it got, the smaller its hapless pawns came to seem.
"Merde," I murmured.
"Never mind that," the star-captain said, mistaking the reason for my distress. "How soon can we start?"
"What are you going to do with the android if you catch him?" I wanted to know.
"Kill him," she replied. It didn't surprise me.
"Why?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, Trooper? I give orders; you follow them. How soon?"
"I still say that it's impossible. If he knows we're following—and he's bound to suspect that someone will, even if he doesn't know you're here—he'll cover his tracks."
"In that case," she said, "we'll have to make sure we use a big enough bomb to get him while we still can." She was smiling, but I knew that she was threatening me. If I wasn't going to help her, she was implying, then she would have to take extreme measures, no matter what the cost.
I'd already concluded that she was crazy, but I hadn't quite realised how crazy she was. She still had a big moral credit balance, though. I had to try to help.
"The Tetrax really aren't going to let you bomb Asgard," I told her, as gently as I could. "Even if you can pinpoint Myrlin's position without their help, they'll put political pressure on your commander that he'd be insane to resist. Having just brought one humanoid species to the brink of extinction, you're probably prepared to take on anyone and anything by the same means, but the United Governments and Military Forces really wouldn't like it if you upset the Tetrax. They have a lot of friends. We're effectively outnumbered by . . . oh, let's say five hundred million to one, although that may be a conservative estimate, given that we don't really know how far around the rim galactic civilization extends. You have big responsibilities, Star-Captain Lear, and I know you want to discharge them sensibly. You've come to me for local knowledge. So trust me when I tell you you'll need to think long and hard before you so much as take the safety-catch off your flame-pistol while you're on Asgard. If you're lucky, the peace-officers won't have left any recording devices behind to spy on this conversation—and if you're really lucky, they won't take it seriously even if they did—but if I were you, I'd stop talking about the possibility of your starship opening fire. It isn't going to happen."
The silence that descended then seemed very heavy indeed. It was as if the sleeping troopers had stopped breathing—as if they were spellbound, waiting for the star-captain to explode.
She didn't. "Trooper Rousseau," she said. "This is a private conversation, protected by military confidentiality. I'm just trying to impress upon you the seriousness of our mission. We need that android dead—and when I say we, I mean the human race. I have to kill him—and you're right. I need you to tell me how to do it, so I'm being extra nice to you. But if you don't start being a lot more helpful, you have no idea of the depth of the trouble you'll be in. So tell me—when do we start?"
There are some people you just can't argue with. Not all of them are Tetrax. I had already started formulating a timetable in my head when I was interrupted by the trill of the wallphone.
I leapt to my feet, extremely grateful for the opportunity to get away from Susarma Lear, if only for a moment. I tripped over three recumbent troopers on my way to the phone, but I got there in the end.
My gratitude drained away as soon as the caller's image appear
ed on the viewscreen. It was a vormyran.
All vormyr look alike to the inexpert human eye, but I didn't need three guesses to figure out who this one was.
"Michael Rousseau?" he inquired, in awkwardly broken parole. "My name is Amara Guur. We need to talk."
13
Politeness required that I should switch on the eye above my own phone so that Amara Guur could see me too, but I didn't bother. I felt that I could happily live out my life without ever letting him see my face.
"What do you want?" I asked harshly.
He smiled. Unusual for humanoids, the vormyr are a predatory species, irredeemably carnivorous. I'd been told that they had very bad breath, and it was easy enough to imagine that, even though I was only looking at a picture. Guur looked like a cross between a wolf and a crocodile, slightly favouring the reptilian side of the family. It wasn't a harmonious combination. His smile was unattractive in the extreme.
"I'd like to discuss some matters of mutual interest, if you're willing."
"I'm not," I told him.
He didn't seem put out.
"I can understand that," he said. "It has come to my attention that you feel that I am in some way responsible for your recent troubles. I can assure you that I am not, but I should like to make a gesture of good will in any case—a small gift, to assure you of my friendship. It cannot make up for your unfortunate experience, of course, but I think you might be very glad to receive it." His accent wasn't incomprehensible once I'd got used to it.
"I don't want it," I said.
"I think that you do," he retorted. "In any case, it belongs to you by reason of both legal and moral entitlement—if, as I understand, you are the sole beneficiary of Saul Lyndrach's will. Not that I had anything to do with his unfortunate demise, of course—I have offered the peace- officers my full co-operation in the matter of apprehending the homicidal giant."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded. I had to use the English word for "hell," but he got my drift. He smiled again.
"It is a small item that . . . happened to come into my possession." So saying, he lifted something up to his phone's eye so that I could see it. It was a black-bound notebook. It had to be Saul's log, containing his personal record of his last trip. It had to contain the location of the doorway down to level five—encrypted, I presumed. Obviously, Simeon Balidar hadn't been able to decipher it, and Saul hadn't been willing to divulge the key even under extreme pressure. Amara Guur obviously thought that I had a better chance of cracking the code—which explained why he thought we should talk, but not why he was apparently ready to make me a gift of the book, and to risk displaying it on a phone-channel that was almost certainly being monitored by the police. I presumed that he was lying, laying down bait for the next phase of the game.
"Put it in the post," I said.
"We don't have time," he replied. "I can send it by courier, or you can come and collect it, as you please. To be perfectly honest, I would rather not run the risk of a courier being intercepted by . . . other interested parties. If you would care to name a public meeting-place, where two innocent citizens could meet without fear of interference, I shall be happy to bring it there myself. You are welcome to bring your military escort with their flame-pistols at the ready. If it will help you to reach a decision, your companions might care to know that it will assist them greatly in their pursuit of the multiple murderer Myrlin."
Susarma Lear had overheard every word. She shouldered me out of the way, and said: "I'll be in that square near the foot of the skychain in whatever the local equivalent of twenty Earth minutes is," she said. "On the steps of the building where we found Rousseau this morning. Don't keep me waiting too long."
"I am delighted to know that Mr. Rousseau has such decisive friends," the vormyran said. "I look forward to meeting you in person."
He broke the contact.
"Thanks a lot," I said. "He might still have time to set up a trap, even on the steps of the Hall of Justice. It's nighttime out there, you know."
"Don't be paranoid," she said. "Anyway, you don't have to go. I'll even leave Serne to look after you, if you want." While she was speaking, she started kicking her men, although most of them had been woken up when I tripped over them on the way to the phone, and they'd all started paying attention when she'd walked over them to shoo me out of the way.
"It can't be as straightforward as it seems," I said. "If that book has directions to where Myrlin's going, why would Guur hand it over to us?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I know the easiest way to find out. Are you ready to go?"
"You just said I didn't have to!"
"Yes, I did—but that's like accusing you of being a coward. You're a trooper in the Star Force now, Rousseau— when someone suggests that you might be a coward, you're supposed to show them that they're wrong. That's a little local knowledge for your edification. Now move." Her men didn't seem in the least perturbed by the fact that they'd only had the briefest of cat-naps. They were already moving.
"Do I get a flame-pistol?" I asked, bitterly.
"Not yet," she said. "But if you come through this little expedition like a good Star Force man, I'll think about it."
We attracted a certain amount of attention as we made our way through the streets, even though it was the dead of night. The Tetrax set the clocks, but other species' circadian rhythms weren't always able to comply. There were enough people about to be seriously inconvenienced as we hurried along, considerably faster than the moderate pace at which the road-strips ran. Usually, people who ran on the moving strips, barging past other pedestrians, attracted a continual barrage of loud complaints, but there's something about bulky sidearms that reduces all complaints to mute resentful stares. We attracted a good many of those.
As we went, the star-captain made further plans.
"Okay, Rousseau," she said. "How many people can we get into this truck of Lyndrach's?"
"It's a small one—built to carry two, although it can take three," I told her.
"Shit," she said. "We're going to need another."
I was amazed. "Do you know how much a truck costs?" I asked.
"No," she said, "but I'll pay it. I'm not chasing the android with only you and Crucero as back-up. If you've read this situation right, he killed seven men with his bare hands and whatever blunt instruments he was able to pick up. It's okay—my quartermaster's already dickering with the Tetrax. We'll all need suits, too. You'd better start making up a list of equipment."
"You've never been out in the cold," I said. "You have no idea what it's like. It's dangerous out there, especially for novices."
"Do you think it isn't dangerous wearing all the kinds of suits we've had to wear these last ten years?" she said, contemptuously. "Do you think it wasn't dangerous going down to the surface of Salamandra after the bombardment? Believe me, Rousseau—you don't know what real scavenging is. Make the list, and get it right. Let me worry about the cost and the hazards."
I made the list. I started while we were still on the strip, and I managed to complete it within five minutes of arriving at the plaza. The star-captain gave it to Crucero and told him to take care of it, as soon as possible. She sent all but two of her troopers to help him. The two that remained were Serne and an Oriental named Khalekhan. I thought she might be going out of her way to prove that she wasn't afraid of any trap that the likes of Amara Guur could spring, but I had to admit that they both looked as if they meant business once they had their flame-pistols drawn. In theory, that was illegal, but there wasn't a peace-officer in sight, even though we were in full view of the central police station and the night shift was on duty. The Tetrax seemed perfectly content to let us do whatever it was the star- captain felt she had to do. I didn't doubt that they were looking on, from a discreet distance, and that Amara Guur would know that too, but I was still anxious.
There were no vormyr in the plaza either. There was nothing to do but wait. The plaza was the largest open
space in the city, directly under the pole of the dome. The Skychain shot up like an infinite glittering arrow from the base-station a couple of hundred metres away; it was an impressive sight, even in the muted light, but the star-captain didn't bother gawking at it. She was looking from side to side, scanning the passers-by on the roadstrip.
When we'd been there about ten minutes, a Campanulan lost his balance transferring from the faster strip to the slower one and fell with his legs on one and his torso on the other. He brought down half a dozen people of assorted races who were standing on the slower strip while the faster one dragged him along—if it had been mid-morning, he'd have skittled a hundred or more. Somebody must have dropped something into the crack between the strips, because the roller gears suddenly started making an awful noise. The safety-relays immediately stopped both strips.
"Does that happen often?" the star-captain asked.
"Not at night," I told her. "Twice or three times a day, when the lights are on. It's okay. The repair crew will come out even at this hour. If they don't fix it in time, we'll only have to walk to the next intersection to get a ride home."
She had tensed up when the accident happened; her eyes were darting back and forth, as if she expected soldiers with blazing guns to emerge from the shadows at any moment, although the pedestrians had meekly accepted the necessity of using their own muscle-power and were proceeding about their business in good order. I hoped that she hadn't actually released the safety-catch on her weapon.
"That's the repair crew coming now," I told her, pointing to the approaching team. "Those aren't weapons they're carrying. Take it easy, will you? It doesn't look as if anyone's trapped an arm or a leg, so it'll just be a matter of minutes."
I could see that she was trying to relax, but she wasn't finding it easy.
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