Praedar flung out an arm, blocking Getz’s attempt to close with Dan again. Casually the Whimed shoved the Terran xenoar-chaeologist aside. Getz’s jaw dropped. Praedar paid no attention to him. He bored in on Dan instead. “Where have you learned this thing you speak of?”
“Tech manuals. History of systems. Alternative power feeds. That’s my field of expertise,” Dan added, shooting a belligerent scowl at Getz.
“Explain the process.” Praedar’s words were flat, lacking his normal, elegant diction.
“They’re switches and relays, mostly. Slow, compared to modem equipment, or even to old-fashioned chips and electronics.”
Rosenthal brightened. “Like optic fibers? I’ve read about. ..” “Nah! Those are quaint, too, nowadays. Museum fodder. Fluidics carry air, not liquid, not electrical signals. Most humanoids have used them, at some time in their developed stages. Fluidics are ideal in applications where heat is a problem.” He admired the glass pieces. “It’s an efficient concept, and doable on a frontier. You know, the Romans might have hung onto their empire longer, if they’d stumbled onto these. They had the necessary knowhow. ..”
A gabble of discussion arose. Dan yanked the transbutton from his ear. He didn’t need that distraction. Doggedly he continued his explanation.
“With these you have the interruptible jets and back pressure systems, great for controlling machinery, pipelines, maybe even com links. They’re explosion-proof, vibration-free, and immune to outside electrical noise and radiation. If the N’lacs’ ancestors used them, they probably weren’t bothered by the slow response factors. Milliseconds would have been fine, in these conditions. They didn’t need the usual nanosecond speed rating. Yeah! And they had sand, a solar power source, all the ingredients for...” “The construction of the effigies has never been in question!” Getz was alarmingly flushed. He stared daggers at Dan but wasn’t willing to go through Praedar to get at the pilot. Getz said, “Do you take me for an illiterate fool like yourself?”
“I’m neither illiterate nor a fool.” Something in Dan’s tone made Getz, other offworlders, and the N’lacs back away from him.
Still riding his specialty, Getz ranted, “The N’lacs have long since lost the capability their ancestors commanded—if indeed they ever had it. I am not convinced Olmsted’s theories on these primitives is correct. For all we know, the villagers stumbled across these effigies and have concocted their own elaborate myths to claim them. They’ve reduced everything to these pitiful tales concerning ‘magic.’ That’s why they make those mud copies, or whittle effigy models in brushwood...”
“Where are the glass ovens that produced the fluidics elements?” Dan demanded. “There’s nothing in your library about ovens. Where did the locals make these?” He held up the glass pieces challengingly. Several scientists exchanged uneasy glances.
“Unimportant,” Getz sniffed. “I’ll locate them, in time.. “Praedar’s been here eleven years, Kat and Sheila and others almost as long. They apparently haven’t found the manufacturing unit. And you’ve been here a full season,” Dan said. “By your own brags, you’ve cataloged thousands of these elements. And you’re too blind to see what they are, or to dig hard enough to find out where and how they were made? Huh! Before I came up with a whole bunch of wrong-headed ideas about ‘symbolic communal fetishes,’ I’d want something solid to base them on. I’d want to eyeball the glass molds. I’d want to see the complete system and see if it was a shaman’s assembly line for magic objects or a frontier factory for turning out energy-channelers.” Kat and Praedar nodded, obviously impressed.
Dan rushed on. “Hollow construction. Flanging. Snug interfaces. Damned sophisticated for use as ‘religious figures.’ Not to mention unnecessary. If they’re effigies, why are they hollow? Why do they have valves? Where are the humanoid features all the journal articles say effigies have? And aren’t effigies clay or ceramic? These are glass. You want to chop me down, you’d better get some bigger ammo.”
“Those are pertinent questions, Bill,” Kat put in. “They’ve bothered many of us.” Sheila shook her head wamingly.
Rosie and a number of others Getz had rubbed the wrong way dived into the argument. “That’s right! They don’t fit the criteria. And they’re strata intensive. Right at the five hundred B.P. level and nowhere else...”
“There are none in the ancient N’lac museum,” Chen noted, his eyes sparkling. He seemed to enjoy Getz’s discomfort.
“Can’t you see?” Getz yelled. “This is one of Feo’s tricks!” Praedar asked Dan, “These fluidics could drive complex devices?”
Joe caught the Whimed’s drift. “Could you power a pressurizing system with them? Say... to increase atmospheres within a hut, as I’ve done in the village, for Loor?”
“Sure! Pumps. Resistors. Detectors. Monitors “Why are you doing this to me?” Getz whined. “Feo sent him to discredit me, disrupt my work. Why are you ganging up on me? I go through hell, researching on this end-of-nowhere dump, and for what? So you can conspire against me and steal my data!” “No one steals.” Praedar’s voice was a basso thunderclap. “What McKelvey suggests is new. He speaks from a technological discipline, one none of us shares. It offers us much for our consideration.”
“Wiping away my sacrifices on Chrow and Noviy Settlement and those damned Vahnaj outposts,” Getz said, snuffling. He rounded on Kat. “And you! You’ve always doubted me, now you’re stabbing me in the back!”
“Calm down, Bill,” she soothed. “We’re here to find the truth. Dan may have shown us an aspect of that which we didn’t know existed. We have to examine it. Haven’t we wondered what aided the N’lacs’ adaptation to this environment, when the slaves first escaped from the Evil Old Ones’ domain... ?”
“You have. I haven’t. And how can you forget the most vital fact of all? He’s a McKelveyl” Getz shot an indicting finger toward Dan.
“And my mother was Colin Saunder’s lover,” Kat said. “I may be his daughter. You know that. It hasn’t affected your opinion of me, has it? Do you think I’m Feo’s spy? Neither is Dan. Quit allowing your temper to impede your reason.”
“You... you’re a scientistGetz protested. “But him? He’s not one of us. We hardly know him.” Several offworlders nodded, eyeing Dan warily. He felt walls going up against him again, separating him from the club members. “That story about a blacklist. Ridiculous! Who ever heard of a poor Saunder-McKelvey? He just wants to hang around here and cause trouble, and that was a handy excuse. Well, he didn’t fool me!” In a frenzy, Getz ran around the campfire, sweeping up effigies, knocking N’lacs out of his way. Shrieking, the e.t.s fled.
Dan hastily pocketed the fluidics unit he’d assembled, hoping Dr. Getz would overlook it. He did. Clutching his trophies, the effigy expert stumbled toward the insta-cell complex, crowing “You won’t get my data! Hah!”
Kat and Praedar moved to follow him, but Sheila waved them back. “Not you. You’ve done enough damage, supporting McKelvey instead of him. Bill’s got a right to be upset. You know how Jarrett, Ishyu, and Lizenka have been attacking his classification record recently. Now this! Talk about kicking a man in the balls! You keep clear. I’ll make peace, if I can. He knows I’m not his enemy.”
The blonde, Getz’s students, and a dozen other Terrans hurried after him. They closed ranks, glowering at those who’d taken the other side of this argument. Ugly words flew as the two groups edged apart.
Praedar sighed tiredly. Dan didn’t envy the Whimed’s job. The boss would be justified in blaming his maintenance specialist for causing the latest Uproar in this expedition crammed with squabbling, multispecies, professional egos. But Praedar gave no such indication. He said, “Sit by the fire. If we pretend to be civilized, the N’lacs may return.”
Chastened by his sarcasm, the others obeyed. Out in the dark, in the scrub brush, in dud pits, and behind parked machines, the N’lacs’ golden eyes gleamed. Dan put himself in their place. He’d been caught between a bunch of procyonids w
hile their matriarch had hysterics once. That was a terrifying experience for a non-Lannon—trapped among huge, hairy aliens. Getz’s rampage must have been just as scaiy for the N’lacs. They were probably afraid other offworlders would go berserk, too, gauging by those loud arguments they’d witnessed.
Whimeds, Terrans, and Armilly sat and put on a performance for their spectators. Amateur musicians on the team brought instruments from the complex and led singalongs. The emphasis was on lighthearted, cheery tunes.
Gradually laughter and music had a soothing effect on the participants, even if it hadn’t yet persuaded the N’lacs to join the party. Praedar’s topknot was soft now. He chatted quietly with those nearest him. “Most distressing that Bill behaved so.”
“But not surprising,” Chen said. “Whitcomb’s word for him is touchy. And then some.” The Oriental nodded owlishly. The antique corrective spectacles he wore when he wasn’t examining museum finds slid down his nose, giving him a comical appearance.
“Sheila will settle him,” Kat assured them. “She’s got a damned sweet tongue, when she chooses to use it. Remember the Vahnajes’ brawl at the Eleventh Assembly, four years ago? She cooled Ruieb until the main lutrinoid faction got their reps in check.”
Dan gaped at her. Vahnajes? Brawling? He’d heard spacers’ gossip to that effect, but never believed it. Maybe the gray faces were no different from other humanoids, despite their elegant way of moving and their rigid social etiquette. Pushed far enough, they might turn nasty. Apparently even Vahnaj scientists weren’t above that. Dan had spent years out here, dealing with aliens as well as humans, and he was still learning. Well, he’d always said when he quit doing that, he’d be dead.
Kat went on. “I’m afraid of another snag, though. Bill may pull his data out of our presentation package for the upcoming conference.”
A buzz of protest arose around the fire. Rosie said, “He should, if his datum are incorrect. That would give the Saunders something to beat us with and to cast doubts on the rest of our material.”
“Okay, a lot of us suspect he’s made mistakes,” Baines, the geologist, noted. “That doesn’t mean things are hopeless. His effigy classifications are in the data banks. The comps could pull those files and test them against McKelvey’s fluidics theory, if that proves out.”
“A big assumption,” someone said.
Praedar told Dan, “Do not be offended. We are obligated to question your thesis.”
“Thesis?” Dan said weakly. “I didn’t...”
Kat walked on his words. “Let’s be honest. We’ve all thought Bill’s adjusting his findings to suit his prior expectations. Bad selectivity. Bad science. The Daust Effect. A researcher trying to repeat his past successes and altering his interpretations accordingly.”
“But on the other hand,” Rose said, “McKelvey’s a rank amateur.”
“In many ways, so was Schliemann,” Joe Hughes cut in. He started to explain the reference for Dan’s benefit.
“I know,” Dan said curtly. “A romantic nineteenth-century Earthman. He believed ancient legends were based on fact, and went looking for Troy. To the then-establishrnent’s chagrin, he dug up ruins exactly where he’d said he would. He wasn’t a professional and his excavation methods were a disaster. But he taught the scoffers that they couldn’t ignore either mythology or maverick theorists.”
He was gratified by the stunned expressions on every side. A flicker of new respect moved across the scientists’ faces. Kat smiled and said, “You have been busy studying. Don’t tell us; you read that somewhere.”
“It’s one of my small talents, naturally, as one of the notorious Saunder-McKelvey family,” Dan retorted. “I do read.”
The team squirmed uncomfortably. He hoped he’d made a dent in a few hard-core snobbish attitudes. Lacking an institute degree didn’t mean a Terran was fried-brain stupid! And it was time they conceded that fact.
Praedar said, “Maruxa of my home world died proving that the Dread Regions are indeed the birthplace of all Whimed. She, too, was scorned and disbelieved, at first.”
Kat nodded. “It’s an old problem in this field, Dan. People like Schliemann often wreck as much as they find. But sometimes the scientific establishment wears blinders. They refuse to look at fresh aspects. They become tenured, timid, unwilling to take chances, waiting for some recognized brave soul to break the barriers and publish the definitive paper, so they’ll know it’s all right to add a new concept to the accepted view of the universe.
“Yet there are dangers in being too daring, as well. For instance, because the N’lacs are still living on this dig world, we could—without meaning to—alter their history and mythology and insert ourselves into the data. That’s a constant risk in such situations. And we can’t do certain normal xenoarch work, like examining graves, even though there are thousands of burials available in this region. We worry that we’re moving too fast, endangering the facts and the N’lacs’ integrity, simply by being here...”
Baines said, “It’s impossible to study a culture without contributing to its future.” Was he quoting a famous law of his scientific branch?
Praedar added a Whimed adage: “To listen well and walk cautiously is a gift of those who will learn.”
At the edge of the fire-lit shadows, N’lacs crept forward. Singers played their instruments softly. The conversationalists smiled encouragingly. One by one the N’lacs took their former places in the circle. They were still edgy, however, and the off-worlders continued their talk at a soothing, low-volume level.
Kat explained, “Dan, the best time to get involved in a discipline is when it’s in flux. That’s when things are happening, And that’s xenoarchaeology, right now, making new, exciting finds, like these civilizations out here on the known stellar boundaries. You landed in the middle of one of the hottest debates—and poked your finger in Bill Getz’s pride. Oh, we know you didn’t do it deliberately. But it’s too bad, all the same. He’s a hard worker and has a number of significant publications to his credit. But he’s afraid he’s slipping. His normal abrasiveness is being made worse by challenges from young, ambitious colleagues. He’s scrambling to stay on top, and that may have made him careless about identifying those glasses as effigies. May. Your ideas concerning fluidics are a long way from being proved.”
Dan pulled the linked brachiate form from his thigh pocket and turned it over in his hands. “I’m not wrong. And I’m damned sick and tired of being treated like a lying greenie because I don’t have a fancy degree and because I’m related to Feo Saunder.” His harsh tone shook his listeners. Again they eyed one another uneasily, and with some embarrassment.
Praedar said, “Truth is all. If you spoke truth, it will be confirmed, in time. We will investigate fluidics and see if this fits previous findings regarding N’lac civilization. We will know.” He tilted back his leonine head, gazing at the stars. “Larger patterns—all elements must support the larger pattern.”
Dan nodded. “I see. The big picture. Assemble the components of a gigantic unit.”
The Whimed swung his arm in an arc. “All the universe— life: Whimed; Terran; Lannon; Vahnaj; Ulisor; Rigotian; and those whose lives ended before our knowledge touched them, the lost ones. We reach. We will learn what occurred here. The N’lacs’ story may echo what has happened before on each of our home worlds and what may happen in time to come.”
In his way, Praedar was as much of a mesmerizer as Sleeg. He went on in a musing voice. “We must be alert in our selection of data to support our theories. Much may be misinterpreted, if one is not wary. The Evil Old Ones—” Praedar glanced at the N’lacs. “—may not have been at all evil, as the term is understood by Terran or Whimed. Alienness is its own reason, and the reasons of a nonanthropomorphic alien perhaps are unfathomable to humanoids.”
“But slavery. ..” Dan said, troubled.
“Was it slavery to the Old Ones? Had they initiated and planted humanoid races eons ago for eventual harvest, as we seed cr
ops and domesticate animals for our use?” Firelight shimmered on the tapetum layer of the felinoid’s eyes, making iridescent mirrors. “Did the Old Ones consider their world and others teeming with humanoid life their property, to be taken as they willed? Had they indeed given humanoid races their first tastes of existence and merely collected a debt owed them?”
Dan saw that he wasn’t alone in being rattled by the Whimed’s cold speculation. Several scientists shivered. Drastil looked at Praedar with obvious dismay, wanting to reject his suggestions. So it wasn’t just the Terrans who found these ideas unsettling.
“How did the Old Ones think and feel? We shall probably never know,” Praedar conceded.“Yet we shall strive to learn.” There was a heavy silence for a long while. Then Sleeg resumed his taletelling. Dan picked the transbutton up, dusted it off, and reinserted it in his ear. Sleeg was saying “We who have hands. We made things for them. They made us build their demons, demons that punish us when we disobey the masters. Old Ones changed the N’lacs and the not-N’lacs. They made us into better hands for them. Long ago, in the forever time...”
Night breeze ruffled Dan’s hair, an eerie touch by an unseen presence. Enslaved humanoids, forced to build their masters’ police robots! And the masters had changed their captives to make them better slaves. Genetic alterations? Compared to that, Joe’s hyperbarics experiments were truly benign. Despite Praedar’s warning against being judgmental about the masters’ motives, Dan thought they were thoroughly evil.
“We got away!” Sleeg exulted. “Demons not find us! Got away in the Big Dark!”
Dan muted the volume on the transbutton and turned to Kat. “Where’s their spaceship? Their ancestors must have used one to make their escape. An FTL craft, most likely. Have you dug it up yet?”
“No, we haven’t. We did find the ships and shuttles the ancient N’lacs destroyed, just before they were carried off to captivity.”
Juanita Coulson - Children of the Stars 04 Page 11
