by Larry Niven
“Now attend to this,” she continued.
A new map, shimmering with color. “This map is weighted for thermal hotspots and grendel-level accelerations. Do you see?”
The area fifty miles distant was a hive of activity.
Cadzie’s flesh crawled. “What are we looking at?”
“Not only are there high levels of cthulhu activity, but we are seeing grendel heat signatures. It may be a breeding ground of some kind. I record at least one magnetic anomaly present in each node.”
“Conclusions?”
“Insufficient data. I can tell you that on the basis of that anomaly signature, we can see this around the planet—”
And another view. It was breathtaking. A globe speckled with light along any coastal line, and moving inland.
“Dios mio,” Carlos breathed. “Thousands of them.”
“Yes,” Cassandra said. “And frequently accompanied by the grendel heat signatures.”
Zack’s expression seemed sober indeed. “Are we looking at a civilization that was destroyed by the planet’s greatest predator?”
Little Shaka shook his head. “Hard to believe that the cthulhus might have developed such a civilization—if we could call it that, and then be overwhelmed by an animal. There is certainly no evidence of anything like that ever happening to an earth civilization. Barring plagues, that is.”
“Then we just don’t know.”
“These could be artificial structures, consciously created or maintained. It is also possible that the anomalies are natural, and the cthulhus are attracted to them.”
“That they have an organ, or a sense, attracted to lodestones?”
“Something of that kind.”
“Then . . .” Joanie said, “maybe they’re attracted to the magnetic fields created by the dam’s dynamos.”
Cadzie slapped his hands together. “Why not? They could have magnetic sensing apparatus, couldn’t they?”
Little Shaka responded quickly. “The ampullae of Lorenzini?”
“The what of which?” Zack asked.
“Ampullae of Lorenzini. Electroreceptors, like a network of jelly-filled pores.” Little Shaka said. “Found in sharks, rays, maybe some of the Chondrostei family, like sturgeon and reedfish.”
“Does it make sense that something like that could evolve here? It seems to attract grendels as well.”
“Who don’t have such organs. So . . we don’t know. Maybe cthulhus aren’t the only creatures attracted, such that it provided a fertile hunting ground, one later taken over by grendels.”
“Not taken over,” Cassandra corrected. “Remember, cthulhus are still mapped going to these locations.”
Zack drummed his fingers. “Well, it sounds like we need to explore one of these. Which one has the largest traffic of cthulhus compared to the lowest number of grendels, weighed for proximity to Camelot?”
Another pause, and then a view of a fjord. “This, a hundred kilometers south of the dam. The indication is that the site is underground, perhaps four miles inland.”
“That’s a major expedition,” Cadzie said. “Skeeter in, then by foot or inflatables, into serious grendel territory.”
“Can we do that?” Joanie asked. Her voice was strained.
“I don’t know,” Cadzie said. “But we might have to try.”
“I have a thought,” Carlos said.
“What?”
“Let’s plan that expedition, to the best of our ability. But in a few weeks, we’re going to have visitors. And we have no idea what kinds of resources those visitors might have.”
“You mean like weapons?”
“Weapons, transport, who knows?” he said. “So . . let’s lay plans, but postpone any actions until we meet our new neighbors.”
♦ ChaptEr 16 ♦
boarding party
Toad Stolzi hadn’t liked sending Cadzie and Joan down without him, but he had full trust in the Minerva—and the instructions he gave them. He watched, wincing at a faint tremor in the drive flame that shouldn’t have been there. Watched in approval as he followed them down with Geographic’s telescope. Winced again as the Minerva ran out of fuel just a few meters above the sea.
Splash.
Voices, anger held in check. “Geographic, this is Avalon. Minerva landed hard. Some parts probably damaged. It may take longer to get it in shape to come get you than we thought.” The voice changed.
“Toad, this is Joanie. We’re shaken but undamaged. No damage to Cassandra. More later. Thanks.”
So, he thought. That worked. Close. Used too much fuel stabilizing. But the terminal velocity of that nearly empty ship isn’t all that large. But I maybe cut it too close.
And no use worrying about it.
Then . . Geographic without Cassandra. For a couple of months while they reassembled and tested her. No companionship. But the intruder was real. With Cassandra gone, there’d be no chance to talk to them, but at least he could see the brilliant star of their drive flame. It came on, relentlessly, and after enough observations Stolzi had all the information he needed. It was coming to make orbit around Tau Ceti IV.
As he expected, the incoming starship matched orbits with Geographic, but a quarter of the way around the planet. He sent that information down, and waited. Hours passed. A dot on his radar became a visible object. It took station near Geographic.
“Avalon, this is Geographic. Please alert Carlos. I have company.”
“Geographic, this is Carlos. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Are you sleeping in the op center?”
“Well, as a matter of fact I am. Have been since that ship got close. Tell me about the visitor.”
“The starship is out of sight, but I assume it’s coorbital with Geographic. What I see is a probe, too small to be manned. Probably an observation drone—yep. There go the lights. Pretty bright beam playing all over me. It’s about two hundred meters away, and very precise in its operations. Nearly perfect approach. I saw it coming, we were in daylight. Going dark now.”
“Any sign of weapons?”
“Nope.”
“And no communications?” Carlos sounded puzzled.
“I’ve been sending a stream on every frequency I can think of, but no answer. I’m sure they must have heard something. Just dammed improbable they haven’t. But no response, not even a hint.”
Another voice, probably one of the twins. “Can you blink lights at it? They’d sure see that.”
“Yeah Jaxon, I can.”
“Jason. Blink CQ in Morse.”
“I don’t know Morse,” Toad said.
“Cassandra does, so we do. We’re still testing Cassandra, but she can sure do this. Can you get a camera and a light aimed at that probe?”
“Yeah, good idea,” Toad heard in the background behind Jason. Carlos maybe?
“Trying,” Toad said. “I sent most of the working stuff down with the Minerva, but I’ve still got . . Here, can you see this?”
“Yeah. Just barely.”
“It’ll have to do.”
“Okay. Now blink CQ, that’s dah dit dah dit dah dah dit dah.”
“Dah dit dah dit, dah dah dit dah,”
“No pause in there. It’s not two letters, it’s a code they might know. Or their computer should. Only you don’t have a computer, do you?”
“You know damn well I don’t—hey! I’m getting a string of blinks!”
“We’re recording them. English. It says ‘Stand by. Permission to come aboard interrogative.’”
“Well, they’re being polite, anyway. What do I do?” Toad asked.
There was a long pause. The probe’s light blinked again in a complex pattern. Then a buzz of conversation in the background. Toad heard Carlos’s voice say something but couldn’t make it out.
Then Jason. “Send okay. Dah dah dah dah dit dah. All one string.”
“Dah dah dah dah dit dah,” Toad told himself as he blinked his light.
Another series of blinks from t
he drone. “Toad, they say ‘Thanks. We’re coming. Stand by.’ Don’t waste any words, do they?” Jason said.
“Toad, this is Carlos. Can you describe the ship itself?”
“Well, I can’t see it from here, you can see it better than me.”
“Not a lot of light,” Carlos said. “It’s big.”
“I saw that when it was coming in. Bigger than Geographic, but a lot of features in common. Cylinder maybe a kilometer long. Ring of engines in back. Balloon forward, no telling how big it used to be, not empty though. They tell me maybe a kilometer diameter sphere of ice when Geographic lifted, about empty when we got here. Maybe a hundred-meter sphere on this now?”
Silence while they digested this down on the planet. Then he lost communications. That happened a lot, now, as the relay satellites deteriorated. If they ever got the Minerva fixed good enough, Toad thought, I might be able to collect some of them and use the parts to build at least two that work. Of course I’d have to put them back up. Wonder how many missions I could get out of the Minerva?
Idle thought. Lucky to get one more with a good enough landing.
Something flashed past, slowing as it went by. And another. A third closed in. It was hard to make out their size, but they weren’t all that big. Big enough to have passengers, though. One was coming right at him. Stolzi opened Geographic’s communication channels, but they weren’t on any frequency he could find.
He opened the airlock and lit it up. No need to make holes, gentlefolk! The closest vehicle moved in. The airlock cycled.
A cluster of rolling cameras entered first. Two stared at Stolzi, who waved. Three veered away down hallways.
The next cycle brought four uniformed men, with guns. Standard pressure suits, all identical, identical patches and decorations. They doffed their helmets. Clumsily, Toad thought. Not used to space. Two went off exploring. The other two hung onto wall anchor handles, clumsily holding their rifles.
“You should not move,” one of the gunmen said. Their English had changed, but not much. Mine may be different too, he thought. Their weapons were lightweight, not as powerful as a grendel gun. They moved, as if muscle had atrophied. Perhaps low gravity had had its way with them. Stolzi didn’t move, but he did smile as he looked them over.
They waited in silence, as one of the men spoke inaudibly into a tiny microphone. Awkwardly, Toad thought. Clumsy. Not really adapted to zero gee at all. Could not have been awake long. And obviously not of high rank. A word from an old video—the Earthborn called it a movie—came to mind. Expendable. Someone they’d regret losing, but not really important.
The airlock cycled again, bringing two men. No, one was obviously a girl, probably younger than he was. They removed their helmets. The man joined the others. She exchanged a few words with one of the helmeted armed men, then went aft, presumably to talk with the search party that had been looking through the ship. After a while she came back.
“Hi. I’m Trudy. Are you really all alone here?” Big friendly smile, like—well, like she cared. She was very good.
“Just me. The others went back down with our computer. You must have watched them go down to Camelot.”
“Was that a good landing? We watched it.”
“I don’t think so, but they and the ship survived.”
The cameraman grinned. “Any landing you walk away from . . .”
“Is a good landing. Still true.” Stolzi studied him in curiosity. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but of course that was impossible. Then he realized that he recognized the type. Not from Avalon. Nothing like him existed here. But video from Earth said he was a star. It was the quality of posture, or expression, or motion . . or some combination of them. Charisma. This man had an overload of it.
Trudy smiled again. “And left you all alone? Will they be back for you?”
“Sure hope so, but after that landing it may be a while. That’s our last working Minerva.” Wonder if I should have told her that. Damn, she’s easy to talk to. “I like your spacesuit.”
She grinned widely. “Most men do,” she said. “Skintight. Don’t you have them?”
“Only a couple like that. None made for me.”
She gave him a quizzical look, but he didn’t say anything else.
“This ship is nearly empty. Have you been up here long?” she asked.
“Not too long. Just me and two others this trip. We came for the computer. We already brought down nearly everything else. This was—well, we won’t be back for awhile.”
She smiled and nodded. “I noticed. Pretty empty. All right, why? Is there some danger our scouts couldn’t find?”
She was still smiling, but there was an edge to her voice. A note of concern that got the armed men’s attention. Yet she didn’t seem afraid, just concerned. “Uh, no—”
“Trudy. Short for Gertrude, but no one calls me that.”
“Trudy. I’m Marvin Stolzi, but they call me Toad, and no I don’t know why. No, the danger was down on the planet. A reptilian—well, not really but that’s the best description, we called them grendels—”
“Grendels. Monsters like in the Beowulf legend?”
“Exactly.”
The cameraman moved in closer, his face alight with interest. The armed men seemed interested too. “Only lots of them, all worse. We called it the Grendel Wars, and we almost lost. But it’s all right now, Camelot Island is really safe. And nothing threatened us up here. It’s just that they lost so much in the wars! Before I was born, of course.”
She nodded sympathetically. “But you were born here. And you’ve had to concentrate on survival. No wonder there aren’t a lot of astronauts like you!”
“Yes, yes, exactly.”
“Well, maybe it’s a good thing for you we came here. We weren’t coming here at all, you know.” She smiled again.
He saw perfect white teeth. Rare among Starborn. Teeth that straight were more often orthodontics than genetics. She had to be Earthborn. He nodded eagerly. “Yes, I got that from what we could make out from the trajectory assuming you started at Sol. Why did you change course?”
“Afraid I was asleep when it happened,” she said. “So was everyone else here. We can bring someone who can answer that. Do you mind?”
“Mind?”
“Well, this is your ship.”
“Well, no, I don’t mind.”
She turned to one of the riflemen. “Captain, you may ask His Grace to come aboard. He has been invited, and in my judgment, it is safe.”
“You’re sure, ma’am?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“All right. Tell him”—he pointed at Toad, but not with the rifle—“that there will be other warriors first.”
“There will be others, Marvin. You don’t mind, do you? He’s important, and there are rules.”
Important? Rules? Toad was reminded of old videos from Earth. Kings in movies always had guards. “No, I don’t mind.”
“Good for you. Inform His Grace, Captain.”
While they were waiting for the important visitor, his phone played “Starfire.” “Toad here. Some visitors aboard. We’re waiting for someone important but I don’t know who that is. I don’t even know who they are, but they’re definitely from Earth. Sol system, anyway, and they don’t seem used to space and low gravity. We’re waiting for a big cheese, and they’re searching all over like they think there’s something up here that could hurt him.”
Carlos said, “Are they listening to this conversation?”
“Not that I can see, but they’ve got all kinds of equipment that could do it if they want to.”
“So we assume they are. What are they like? Friendly?”
“Trudy, young pretty girl. A lot of presence. Seems like she’s in charge until the big cheese gets here, is very friendly. Others are serious, real serious—well, they act like soldiers in our Earth movies. Big gold-haired guy named Meadows called himself a warrior.”
“So they’re armed.”
“Oh
yeah. And the airlock’s cycling. I’ll leave this on, maybe you’ll hear something. Bye.”
Six more armed men—or were they? Two wore pale lipstick. He could see it through helmets they didn’t take off. But they all had guns, and their suits were—strange. Not skintight at all. More like armor. Like old movies he’d seen, where they had powered armor, but this was sleeker.
Three took station where they could watch the airlock. The others looked to the girl, Trudy, got a nod, and went back out. After a while the airlock cycled again.
Two of the men in powered armor came in first, got a nod from the captain, and joined the others. Then came an elderly man in a skintight suit, no helmet. He seemed very accustomed to zero gravity. Black straight hair going grey. Roman nose, maybe a trace of a pot belly. He came in, grasped a stanchion with practiced ease, and looked around.
Trudy floated over and grasped a wall grip. She didn’t really look graceful at all in zero gee. She looked to Toad, then the old man. “Your Grace, this is Marvin Stolzi, the captain and only inhabitant of this ship, which is definitely the Geographic. Marvin, this is First Speaker Augustus Glass.”
Toad didn’t know whether to shake hands or bow. “Welcome aboard, uh, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“We don’t have titles and not much need for ranks,” Toad said.
The Speaker nodded. “No, I guess you wouldn’t see the need,” he said softly. “But you could perhaps answer a question that has puzzled us for months. Why did you break off communications?”
Toad frowned. “But I have the same question for you! You’ve had months, and we sent you messages. Scared us silly.”
“Your computer. Cassandra. Broke off communication almost immediately and answered no further hailing,” the old man said. “Some thought that a threat. And as you say, it was months ago. And I regret to say that we heard no further attempts at communication until very recently.”
“Maybe it was something you said?” Toad was still smiling but it was an effort. The armed men and women in the cabin weren’t quite pointing their weapons at him. Not quite. Unbeckoned, a question thrust its way into his mind. What were those loaded with? Would the projectiles they fired make holes in the ship’s hull? They were all wearing some kind of pressure suit, but only the escort still had their helmets on. How many could get them on fast enough in the event of a blowout? Had any of them trained for that? I sure haven’t.
