Jack Markover was a Kansas City product, middle-class parents, standard public school education, two siblings. He’d gotten engaged right after high school, an arrangement heartily discouraged by his parents, who had assumed all along that he’d go to medical school, succeeding where his father had failed.
Jack and the young woman, Myra Kolcheska, eventually ran off, sparking a battle between the families that ultimately erupted in full-blown lawsuits. Meantime, the subjects of the quarrel both lost their nerve at the altar. Let’s give it some time. See how it plays out. Last he’d heard, she was married to a booking agent.
Jack never got close to medicine. For one thing, he had a weak stomach. For another his mother was a hypochondriac and he always felt sorry for the doctor who had to listen to her complaints. He suspected that doctors’ offices were full of hypochondriacs. Not for him, he’d decided early on.
He’d gone to the University of Kansas, expecting to major in accounting, but had gotten bored, discovered an affinity for physics, and the rest, as they say, was history. No big prizes and no major awards. But he was a gifted teacher, good at getting the arcane out there on the table where students could either understand it or at least grasp why no human being anywhere could understand it. And now he’d acquired a place in history. He was the discoverer of the Goompahs. He could write his memoirs and toss down scotch and soda for the rest of his life if he wanted.
THE CUMBERLAND BROUGHT fuel, food, water, wine, all kinds of electronic pickups, some spare parts for the ship, and assorted trinkets that someone thought could be used as gifts to win over the natives. They consisted mostly of electronic toys that blinked and donged and walked around. Stevens smiled while he showed them to Jack. “Not exactly in the spirit of the Protocol,” he said.
Jack nodded. “We won’t be using them.”
The big item in the shipment, other than the pickups, was a set of six lightbenders. “Did you bring one for the lander?” asked Kellie.
Stevens looked blank. “For the lander? No, I don’t think so.” He opened his notebook and flipped through. “Negative,” he said. “Was there supposed to be one?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “They assured us it would be here.”
“Somebody screwed up. I’ll look around in the hold. Maybe they loaded it without making an entry, but I doubt it.”
He went back through the airlock while Jack and Digger grumbled about bureaucrats. It took less than five minutes before his voice sounded on the commlink. “Nothing here.”
“Okay,” said Jack.
“I’ll let them know. Get them to send it out right away.”
“Please.”
“Right. No point in the individual units if you can’t cover the lander.”
Stevens finished unloading and announced that he’d be starting back to Broadside that evening. Schedule’s tight, no time to screw around. And he laughed, implying that the same bureaucrats who hustled him back to Broadside in a mad rush would keep him waiting a week.
He had dinner with them, and irritated everybody by referring to the Goompahs as Goonies. Thought it was just impossibly funny. “That’s what they’re calling them back at Broadside,” he said. And then, looking around at the others, “Who’s going back with me?”
They’d talked about it at length. Two years was a long bite out of anyone’s life. It apparently never occurred to Kellie to ask to be relieved. The Jenkins was her ship, and if it was staying, she was staying. Jack saw himself as mission director and, like Kellie, felt an obligation to remain. He also expected to go back eventually as a celebrity. Books would be written about Lookout, and biographies about him. “If we handle this right,” he told Digger, “we can save a few of these critters and go back with our tickets punched.”
And Digger could imagine no conditions under which he would abandon Kellie. Or, for that matter, Jack, whose opinion of him mattered.
So only Winnie was leaving. “Family obligations,” she explained, not without a sense of guilt.
When the dinner ended, they said goodbye, companions of the past fifteen months. “Don’t get caught in the storm,” Winnie told them, as she delivered embraces to all and disappeared through the airlock.
Stevens was telling Kellie something about the hyperlink arrangements. He wished them luck, and he, too, made his exit. The hatches closed, and they heard the muffled clangs of the docking grapplers.
Then the Cumberland was drifting away. And they were alone.
TRANSMISSIONS FROM DAVID Collingdale (“Jahanigrams”) had been arriving regularly, spelling out what the linguists didn’t know, which was a lot, and what they needed Jack to do when the lightbenders arrived. More and better recordings. More pictures to provide context for the conversations. Recordings of the natives in various situations, at play, at worship, haggling over prices, and, trickiest of all, during courtship. The Jahanigrams became a major source of amusement.
They also received a transmission from the Hawksbill. A tall, dark-haired woman, just beginning to go gray, identified herself as Marge Conway. “I’m bringing some equipment with me,” she said, “to try to create a cloud cover over the cities.” She was wearing a baseball cap, which she tugged down over one eye. Digger suspected she’d been an athlete of some sort in her younger days. “The equipment will be stealth technology stuff. The Goompahs won’t be able to see it unless they get right on top of it.
“I need a favor. I’d like you to scout the area for me. Find eight places where I can lock down my gear. These places need to have a few trees, at least. The more the better, actually. They should be as remote from populated areas as possible. And preferably four on either side of the isthmus, although that’s not a necessity. They should be spread out, to the degree it’s practical. I appreciate your help. By the way, I’d also be grateful if you could have Bill do some weather scans of the isthmus and offshore waters. Get me as much climate information as you can.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to working with you on this. With a little bit of luck, we should be able to pull off a rescue.”
“And I bet she will,” said Jack.
IN THE MORNING they tried out the lightbenders. Jack was the only one of the three who had any experience with the devices. He opened the packages, took them out, and removed several pairs of goggles. “So we can see each other,” he said, pointedly holding them up and then laying them on a table.
The lightbender consisted of a set of transparent coveralls and a wide belt. The belt buckle doubled as both control and power unit.
Jack pulled on the coveralls, added a wide-brimmed safari hat, smiled at them, and touched the buckle.
Digger watched with pleasure as Jack faded from sight. The process took about three seconds during which he became transparent, then vanished completely. Except for his eyes. They looked back at him from the middle of the chamber. More intensely blue and bigger than he’d ever noticed. And disembodied.
“My irises, to be precise,” Jack said. “The system is selective. Has to be. If it blanked out your eyes, you wouldn’t be able to see. So it isn’t perfect.”
“I’ll be damned,” Digger said. “You know, I’ve seen it in the sims, but actually standing in a room when it happens—” He started thinking about the possibilities of being invisible.
“That’s why they don’t sell them down at the mall,” said Kellie, reading his expression.
She and Digger strapped on the gear. She faded away and Digger looked down at his body, found the appropriate stud on his belt, slid it sideways, and watched himself vanish. A wave of vertigo swept through him.
“It’ll seem a little strange at first,” said Jack’s voice.
Kellie’s dark eyes were full of mischief.
“Take a pair of goggles,” said Jack, “so we can see each other.” One of them rose from the table, apparently on its own, and went over the blue eyes. The goggles vanished and the eyes came back. “Ah,” Jack said, “that’s better.” The other two pairs also levitated, and one flo
ated over to Digger. He took it and put it on.
The light in the room dimmed, but two shimmering silhouettes appeared.
“You’ll need to be careful about walking until you get used to things. You can see the ground, but you can’t see your feet. At least not the way you’re accustomed to seeing them. Sometimes they’re not where you think they are. People have broken ankles. And worse.”
Kellie popped back into the light. “I’m ready to go,” she said.
“You know”—Digger smiled—“you could get into a lot of trouble with one of these things.”
“Try your luck, cowboy,” Kellie said.
The Cumberland had also brought a substantial supply of pickups. They looked like large coins. Wilcox Comm. Corp. was engraved on the head, with an eagle symbol, and a reproduction of their headquarters on the flip side. They were powered, like the e-suits, by vacuum energy, and consequently could be expected to perform for indefinite periods of time. The back side would adhere, according to the directions, to virtually any solid surface.
They put about thirty of them into a case and stored it in the lander. It was late evening on the Jenkins, late afternoon on the isthmus. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” said Jack. “We’ll go down first thing tomorrow.”
When everyone had retired, Digger stopped by the bridge, saw that Kellie wasn’t there, and knocked gently on her compartment door.
“Who is it?” she said.
“Me.”
The door opened slightly. She stood tying her robe. “Yes, Dig?”
“I love you, babe,” he said.
“I love you, too.” She made no move to open wider.
“You know,” he said innocently, “you never know what might happen on these surface trips.”
“They can be pretty dangerous,” she agreed.
He reached in, touched her hair, pulled her forward. She complied, and their lips brushed softly. She came forward the rest of the way on her own, crushed her mouth against his, and held on to him. He was acutely aware of her heartbeat, her breasts, her tongue, her hair. His right hand pushed against the nape of her neck, sank down her back, cupped one buttock.
And she backed away. “Enough,” she said.
“Kellie—”
“No.” She put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him. “Once it starts, you can’t get it stopped. Be patient.”
“We have been,” he said. “We just signed up for, what, another year or so out here?”
She looked at him a long moment, and he thought she was going to bring up Captain Bassett, which she often did when this topic arose. Captain Bassett had begun sleeping with one of his passengers on a run in from Pinnacle or some damned place. The other passengers had found out, the Academy had found out, and Bassett had been fired. Conduct unbecoming. Violation of policy. Once a captain engaged in that sort of behavior, he, or she, could no longer expect to be taken seriously by the other passengers.
But on this occasion, Captain Bassett didn’t surface. Instead Kellie withdrew into her room and waited for him. He followed her in and closed the door. The bed was still made; a lamp burned over her desk. A book was open. She watched him for a long moment, as if still making up her mind. Then she smiled, her eyes narrowed, and she did something to the robe.
It fell to the deck.
KELLIE TOOK THEM back to the glade they’d used on their first landing, descending through a rainstorm and arriving shortly before dawn. They packed up a supply of water and rations and got ready to move out. After they were off the lander, Kellie would take it offshore to a safe place and wait until called. Jack and Digger activated their e-suits but, at Jack’s suggestion, not the lightbenders. “Let’s wait until we’re out of the woods,” he said.
“Why?” asked Digger. “Aren’t we taking a chance on being seen?”
“It’s still dark, Dig. All you’d do is make it more difficult to walk. It’s tricky in these things until you get used to them.”
“You guys need anything,” Kellie said, “just give me a yell.”
They waved, turned on their wristlamps, and climbed out into the night. The grass was wet and slippery. Jack led the way to the edge of the trees and plunged in. Digger hesitated and looked back. The lander waited patiently in the middle of the clearing. The lights were off, of course, and the sky was dark. More rain was coming.
He knew Kellie would stay put until her passengers were safely clear. The east was beginning to brighten. Jack turned and waved him forward. He was really enjoying his role as leader and lightbender expert. The lander lifted, the treads retracted, and it rose silently into the sky.
Thirty minutes later they were out by the side of the road. Jack told him it was time to “go under,” which, it turned out, was the standard phrase for switching on the lightbender. It had a disparate ring for Digger.
He touched his belt, felt a mild tingle as the field formed around him, held out his arm, and watched it vanish. When he looked up, Jack was also gone. He activated his goggles and his partner reappeared as a luminous silhouette.
They turned south. Toward Athens.
THERE WERE ALREADY travelers abroad. Two Goompahs appeared riding fat horses. They were gray, well muscled, with snouts, and ugly as bulldogs. “Everything in this world,” said Digger, “seems uglier than at home.”
“Cultural bias?”
“No, they’re ugly.”
One of the Goompahs carried a lantern. They were engaged in a spirited conversation, which included growls and thwacking their palms together and jabbing fingers at the sky. They passed Jack and drew alongside Digger and suddenly grew quiet. To Digger’s horror, the closer of the two had raised his lantern and was looking in his direction. Staring at him.
The animals sniffed the morning breeze, but they wouldn’t be able to detect any unusual scents because the e-suits locked everything in. Still, it was a trifle unsettling, especially when one of the beasts turned its head and also looked at Digger.
“Your eyes, Dig,” said Jack. “Close your eyes.”
He put his hand in front of them and began backing away. The riders exchanged remarks, and Digger was sorry he didn’t have a recorder running because he could guess the meaning. Harry, did you see that? You mean that pair of little blue eyes over there?
Harry rode to where he’d been standing and looked in all directions. They exchanged a few more comments and the one without the lantern detached a switch from his saddle. Just in case something had to be beaten off.
Digger had to restrain a laugh at the weapon. But he actually did hear a word repeated by the second rider: Telio. The name of his companion?
Digger was tempted. Challa, Telio. But he could guess how the pair of them would react to a voice coming out of the air. He compromised by trying to memorize the features of the one who might be Telio. It was difficult because they all looked alike. But he marked down the creature’s nervous smile, a battered left ear, and the shape of nose and jaws. Maybe we’ll have a more opportune moment.
OVER THE NEXT hour, they encountered several groups and a few lone pedestrians. There were both males and females on the road, and Digger noted that one of the females was alone on foot. The area was apparently safe.
They began to see scattered dwellings. The forest gradually died away and was replaced by farms and open fields. They stopped to watch a female working just outside a small building on a mechanical device that might have been a spinning wheel. An animal, a two-legged creature that looked like a goose with an extraordinarily long bill and protruding ears, waddled out the door, looked in their direction, got its neck stroked, and nibbled at something on the ground.
Digger backed off a few steps. “You sure we’re invisible to the animals?” he asked.
The creature’s ears came up.
“Yes. But it’s not deaf. Stay still.”
He’d learned to squint, thereby reducing the amount of exposed iris.
They passed a building that might have been a school. Inside, young ones
scribbled on stiff gray sheets.
The room was decorated with drawings of trees and animals. Thick sheets, covered with characters they could not read, were posted around the walls. He could imagine the messages. Square Roots Are Fun and Wash Your Hands after Going to the Bathroom.
THERE WAS NEVER a moment when you could say that you were entering the city. The fields contracted into parks, buildings became more frequent, and traffic picked up.
They were approaching a stream. It ran crosswise to the road, which narrowed and became a bridge. Jack examined the construction and took some pictures. Planks, crosspieces, bolts, beams, and a handrail. It looked sturdy. A wagon rumbled across, coming out of the city, and the bridge barely trembled.
A lone female was approaching. Jack and Dig always stopped when traffic of any kind was in the vicinity and they did so now. But she looked in their direction, and her lips formed an ’o’ the way humans do when they’re puzzled. She was looking curiously down at Jack’s legs.
And Digger saw that he’d pushed against a melon bush. The melons were bright yellow and big as balloons and maybe a trifle ripe. The problem was that Jack had backed against them and lifted one so that it seemed to be defying gravity.
“Watch the melon,” he told Jack, who eased away from it.
The melon slowly descended, the branch picked up its weight, and the plant sagged.
“Doesn’t look as if this being invisible,” said Digger, “is all it’s cracked up to be.”
The female wore wide blue leggings, a green pullover blouse, and a round hat with a feather jutting off to one side. She looked dumbfounded.
Something moved behind him. Wings flapped, and Digger turned to see a turkey-sized bird charging out of a purple bush. It raced clumsily across the ground, stumbled once or twice, and launched itself into the air.
The female watched it go and moved her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile but Jack knew it had to be. Smiles seemed to be universal among intelligent creatures. Noks did it. The Angels on Paradise did it. He’d heard somewhere that even whales did it.
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