by Andre Norton
“This is on the edge of the dead strip,” Zilwrich informed me. “To your left and third from the corner is the blasted system of Waystar. It must have been scouted three centuries ago, by your time, from the dates on this chart. This is one of the old Blue maps. Now, look upon the bowl, imagine that the dead sun on that system is a red dwarf, turn the bowl two degrees left—”
I held up the bowl and rotated it slowly, looking from it to the tri-dee chart on the wall. Though I was not taught to read such maps I could see he was right! Not only did the blasted system we had just fled appear on the bowl as one about the red-dwarf star—a dying sun—but there was a course to be traced from that to the zero stone.
“No co-ordinates for hyper,” I pointed out. “It would be the most reckless kind of guesswork. And even a scout trained for exploring jumps would take chances of two comets to a star of coming out safe.”
“Look at the bowl through this.” It would seem that Eet must have been gathering aids from all over the ship, for what the Zacathan handed me now was my own jeweler’s lens.
As I inspected the constellation engraved on the metal through the magnification of the lens I saw there were minute identations there, though I could not translate any.
“Their hyper code perhaps,” the Zacathan continued.
“Still no good to us.”
“Of that I am not sure. We have those of the dead system—from that—”
“You can work?” Of course, he was an archaeologist and such puzzles were common to him. I lost something of my mood of depression. Perhaps because my hunger had been satisfied and I could now use my arm and hand to better advantage, I was regaining confidence not only in myself but in the knowledge and ingenuity of my companions.
When I put the bowl on the floor, open side down so that its star-specked dome was revealed, Eet squatted by it. He had taken up the lens, holding it in his paw-hands, his head bent over it as if his nose were smelling out the pictured solar systems.
“It can be done.” His thought was not only clear; it was as confident as if there had been no obstructions at all between us and success. “We return to the dead system by reversing Ryzk’s tape—”
“And so straight into what may be a vla-wasp nest,” I commented. “But continue. Perhaps you have an answer for that also. Then what do we do, unless the Honorable Elder”—I gave Zilwrich the proper title of formal address—“can read these co-ordinates.”
Eet did not close his mind as he had upon occasion, but I read a side flash of what might be indecision. I had never read fear in Eet’s communications—awareness of danger, but not fear. But this had the aura of just that emotion.
And inspiration hit me in the same instant. “You can read these!” I had not perhaps meant it as an accusation, but it came forth that way.
His head turned on his too-long neck so that he could look at me.
“Old habits, memories, die hard,” he answered obliquely, as he sometimes did. He turned the lens about, giving me the impression of uneasiness, of one wanting to escape coming to a decision.
I caught a flicker of alien mind-flow, and for a moment resented that communication I could not share. It was my guess that the alien and the mutant might be in argument about just the knowledge I accused Eet of having.
“Just so.” Eet resumed touch with me. “No, I cannot read these. But they are enough like another form of record for me to guess to more purpose than the rest of you.” And such was the finality of that answer that I knew better than to try to pry at how he could be familiar with any record approximating that of a Forerunner race living millenniums ago. The old problem of who—or what—Eet was crossed my mind.
Though he made no comment, the impression remained that any guessing he would do would be against his inclination and that he had a personal reason for disliking the situation fortune had forced upon him.
It seemed that now I was to serve as his hands. And back in the control cabin I made ready to follow his instructions to reverse the course Ryzk had set and return us, as soon as we emerged near Lylestane, to the vicinity of Waystar.
Ryzk did not appear. Apparently the smugglers’ drink was of great potency. What would have happened when we came out of hyper and he was not at the controls, I do not know. Perhaps we would have aimlessly cruised the Lylestane system as a traffic hazard until some Patrol ship linked beam and dragged us in as a derelict.
I punched out the figures Eet fed me and we were wrenched back on a return course once again from Lylestane. Once more in hyper, we had plenty of time to meditate on the numerous dangers our appearance near Waystar would range against us. Certainly our successful escape with the treasure had alerted all the defenses of the pirate stronghold. They would be expecting a visit from the Patrol on one hand, now that strangers knew the co-ordinates of their hide-out, and trouble from others, perhaps even the Guild, demanding an account of how or why loot could be so summarily removed from what was believed to be an impregnable safe place.
The only answer would be that we dared not linger long enough in the dead system to be detected. Our unarmed ship had no defense against what the Jacks could easily muster. Therefore, we must follow exactly the same procedure we had on emerging near Lylestane: We must have the other course ready to punch in and spend as little time in normal space as we could.
Success in that maneuver would depend entirely on what Zilwrich and Eet could produce in the way of a new course. And since I was no help to them, the ship and Ryzk were my concern.
My most practical answer to Ryzk was to apply a force lock on his cabin. He sobered up when we were back in hyper and his struggle with the door lock led me to state through the intercom that we had taken over. More than that I did not explain, and I turned off the com thereafter, so his demands went unheard. E-rations and water went to him through the regular supply vent and I left him to consider, soberly I hoped, the folly of the immediate past in relationship to the Wendwind and her owners.
For the rest I tinkered in the small repair shop. The crossbows Ryzk had earlier produced I refined, making more zoran heads for their bolts. I had no mind to go exploring on an unknown planet unarmed, as I had once done in the past.
If by some miracle of fortune we did reach the world indicated by the zero stone, we would not know what we might face there. It could be a planet on which those of our kind could not live without suits; it could be inhabited by beings infinitely superior to us in every way, who would be as hostile to strangers as the Veeps of Waystar. Though the civilization the bowl represented must have ended eons past, others could have arisen from the degenerate dregs of that, and we might face such challengers as we could not even imagine. When I got to that point of my speculations, I handled my crossbows with very bleak attention to all their manifest defects.
Our first test would come when we left hyper in the dead system. As that moment approached I was tense and nervy. I saw practically nothing of Eet and Zilwrich except when I supplied them with food and drink. And I was almost tempted to let Ryzk out of his cabin in order to have someone to match fears with.
But when the alarm shattered the too-great silence of the ship, Eet was on hand in the control cabin. He curled into my lap as I settled in the pilot’s seat—though he kept his mind closed, as if it were full of some precious knowledge and sharing that too soon might spill what could not be regained.
We came out of hyper and I punched the proper buttons for a reading of our present site. At least fortune had favored us to the point that we had emerged very close to that place where we had entered on our first trip, at the outer edge of the dead system.
But we were given very little time to congratulate ourselves on besting what was perhaps the smallest portion of the ordeal facing us. For there was an alarm ringing wildly through the cabin. We had been caught by a snooper and now we could expect a traction beam. My hands rested on the edge of the control board. I was ready to punch out the course Eet supplied. But would he feed me one, and could I set
it quickly enough to avoid the linkage which would hold us for taking by the enemy?
XVI
Eet was ready for me, though the co-ordinates he flashed into my mind had no meaning for me. I was merely the means of putting finger tip to controls to punch them in. Only, it seemed those fingers did not move fast enough. I could feel the force of the locking beam catch at our ship.
We passed into hyper. But once the dizzy spin in my head cleared and I knew we had made the transition, I was aware that we had brought our enemy with us. Instead of snapping the lock beam in our return to hyper, we had, through some balance of force against force, dragged the source of that beam with us! We had danger locked to the ship, ready to attack as soon as we moved into normal space again.
There is no maneuvering in hyper. To do so would be to nullify the co-ordinates. And one would emerge utterly lost in space, if one were lucky, or perhaps in the very heart of a blazing sun. We were both prisoners here until we finished the voyage the Zacathan and Eet had set us. But there was this much: The enemy was as helplesss as we—until we went out. And not being prepared for hyper transfer, they might be badly shaken, though they would have the length of our trip in which to pull themselves together.
“Jern!” Ryzk bawled through the ship’s com. “Jern, what are you trying to do?”
It sounded very much as if the pilot not only had recovered from his drinking bout but was genuinely alarmed. Alarmed enough, I speculated, to be willing to work with us? Not that I trusted him now.
I picked up the mike. “We are in hyper—with a companion.”
“We’re linked!” he roared back.
“I said we had a companion. But he cannot move any better than we. We are both in hyper.”
“Going where?”
“You name it!” Our momentary escape was acting on me like a shot of exult. Not that I had ever tried the stuff, but I had heard enough to judge that this must be akin to the heady feeling those addicts gained. When we snapped out of hyper we might be in grave danger, but we had now a respite and time to plan.
But his question echoed in my mind. Going where? To a planet which might or might not still exist. And if it did—what would it be like?
At that moment I felt as if I would more than anything like to be a believer in the gods of the planet-rooted. This was the time when one would prefer to kneel in some fane as did, say, the Alfandi, thrusting a god-call deep into ground already pitted with holes left by other’s rods, pulling hard upon the cord which would set its top quivering to give off the faint sound meant to reach the ear—if one might grant a spiritual being an ear—of that High One, and thus alerting the Over-Intelligence to listen to one’s plea. I had met with the worshippers of many gods and many demons on many worlds. And complete belief gave a man security which was denied to the onlooker. That there was a purpose behind the Galaxy I would be the first to agree. But I could not bow my head to a planet-based god.
There was one belief I had read in the old tapes, that brain and mind are not the same. That the brain is allied to the body and serves it, while the mind is able to function in more than one dimension—hence esper talents, born of the mind and not the brain.
Now when I came from the control cabin I found Zilwrich seated on his pallet, and it seemed that he tried to prove the truth of this old theory, for he held between his two hands the bowl. His eyes were closed and he was breathing in small, shallow gasps. Eet, who had preceded me at his usual speed, had taken a position which mimicked that of the Zacathan, his small hand-paws resting on the rim of the bowl, his eyes also closed. And there was an aura of esper power which even I could feel.
What they were trying to do I did not know. But I felt that my presence was an intrusion there. I backed away, closing the door behind me. But at the same time my triumph ebbed. And the fact that we had a companion locked to us began to assume the shadow of menace. If Ryzk could only be trusted! Perhaps he could as long as his own skin was in danger. The coordinates which had brought us here—I reclimbed the way to the control cabin. We had used a return of Ryzk’s setting to take us back to the dead system. Suppose I now erased those co-ordinates from the tape. Then no move of Ryzk’s could return us, only what lay in Eet’s and the Zacathan’s memories. Loosed in the unknown, the pilot would be no great danger, and we needed badly any knowledge he might have to help us to deal with the enemy once we returned to normal space.
I set the erase on the tape before allowing myself to have second thoughts. Then I went to unseal the pilot’s cabin. He lay on his bunk but turned his head to stare at me as I stood in the doorway. I had not brought one of the crossbows. After all, I was trained in a variety of weaponless fighting methods, and I did not think we were less than evenly matched, since he had nothing save similar skills to use against me.
“What are we doing?” He had lost the anger tinged with alarm which had colored his first demand through the com.
“Heading for a point on a Forerunner chart.”
“Who’s linked with us?”
“Someone out of Waystar is our best guess.”
“They followed us!” He was genuinely astonished.
I shook my head. “We came back to the Waystar system. It was the only recognizable point of reference on the chart.”
He turned his head away, now looking to the ceiling. “So—what happens when we come out of hyper?”
“With luck we are in a system not on the charts. But—can we break linkage when we come out of hyper?”
He did not answer at once. There was a sharp frown line between his brows. And then he replied to my question with another.
“What are you after, Jern?”
“Perhaps a whole world of Forerunner artifacts. What is that worth?”
“Why ask me? Anyone knows that is not to be reckoned in credits. Is Zilwrich behind this? Or is it your gamble?”
“Both. Zilwrich and Eet together set up the co-ordinates.”
He grimaced. “So we sweat out a landing, maybe to be sun-cooked or worse when we come out—”
“And if we are not, but take the others with us?” I brought him back to the matter over which we might have some control.
He sat up. The sickly-sweet smell of the drink was strong. But to my eyes he appeared sober. Now he put his elbows on his knees and bent over to rest his head on his hands. I could no longer see his face. He sighed.
“All right. In hyper we can’t switch course. So we can’t try to shake them loose. We can set the emerge on high velocity. It will mean blacking out, maybe taking a beating. But it is the only way I know of to break the link. We will have to rig special webbing or we won’t survive at all.”
“And if we do break the link?”
“If we pulled them in with us, the course is only set on our ship. The break will take us out, not them. They would have to gamble on an emerge. It might land them in the same system, or somewhere else. How do I know? I say it is barely possible. I am not planning on more than one thin chance in ten thousand.” And his voice said that was very optimistic odds.
“You can do it?”
“It looks as if we have no choice. Yes, I can rig it, given time enough. What are the odds if we come out still linked?”
“We are unarmed, and they can take us over. They have no use for us, only what we carry.”
He sighed again. “About what I thought. You’re all fools and I have to go along.”
But perhaps he was not wholly convinced until we entered the control cabin and he pushed past me to read the dial above the journey setting.
“Erased!” He whirled to face me, his lips twisted into a snarl.
“No turning back.” I braced myself, tensed against attack. Then I saw his eyes change and knew that if he meant me harm in the future, he was willing to wait for such a reckoning. The main interest now must be the ship and our possible manner of escape from our unseen companion.
Just as Eet and Zilwrich in their mysterious occupation with the bowl had given me no
explanations, so did Ryzk keep his own counsel about the alterations he made in some wiring. But he did keep me with him as a very ignorant assistant, to hand tools, to hold this or that while he made delicate adjustments.
“This will have to be redone,” he said, “before we make a return. It is only temporary. I cannot even swear it will work. We’ll need heavy webs—”
We set about providing those, too. The two shock-prepared seats in the control cabin were reinforced with what we could strip off the bunks in our two cubbys. Then we descended to the section where Eet and the Zacathan were in session to provide Zilwrich with such safeguards as we could rig. Eet, I supposed, would share my seat as usual.
I tapped lightly on the door behind which I had left the two enwrapt, with the bowl between them.
“Enter,” called Zilwrich.
He lay now, his whole body expressive of a vast exhaustion. I could not see the bowl. Eet, too, lay there, but his head came up and he watched us almost warily.
I explained what we would do.
“This thing is possible?”
Again Ryzk shrugged. “I cannot swear to it on my name, if that is what you mean. It remains theoretical until we prove it one way or another. But if what you say is true, we have little choice.”
“Very well,” the Zacathan agreed. I waited for some comment, pro or con, from Eet. But such did not come. And that made me uneasy. But I would not press him, lest he confirm my worst doubts. It is better not to be met by pessimism when the situation already looks dark.
But Zilwrich had suggestions as to the rigging we must provide to counteract the strain on his body. And we carried out his instructions with all the skill we could summon. When we fastened the last of the improvised webbing Ryzk arose and stretched.
