Souls in the Great Machine

by Sean McMullen

  "Touch that maggot of a camel turd? Ah, a cruel punishment, sister dearest, but I bow to your wisdom--no, no, don't tell me: You want him saved so that you can do this again."

  "Why Ilyire, you read my mind." "Dearest, wonderful sister!" Ilyire composed a few words in Austaric and knelt beside Glasken. "Camel turd, I bring ointment and rub on with cloth. You lie still or I rub on with saltbush branch. Yes?"

  It was another two days before Glasken was fit to travel. Ilyire found another cave in the limestone plain and Glasken sheltered from the sun inside it. Theresla spent the time making observations and drawings at the Edge. She explained that the supposed breathing of the cave was probably caused by waves at the base of the cliffs washing in and out of some vast labyrinth beneath their feet.

  The journey back to Maralinga was slow because the blistered Glasken needed to rest quite frequently. He had lost all interest in sex and at first was barely able to keep croaking out his lessons in Austaric, but was much improved when they reached the par aline When they caught sight of Maralinga's beam flash tower the sun had just set. They could see a light twinkling at its summit, which was trailing flare smoke into the wind.

  "Another two hours, sister," Ilyire reckoned.

  "Say all in Austaric," she ordered.

  "Traveling two hours. Camp here. Go on tomorrow. In dark get shot, perhaps."

  "Am wishing arrive tonight," she replied. "I agree," said Glasken. "Camel turds have no--"

  "Quiet!" snapped Theresla, gesturing to the sky in the gathering gloom. "Look up." There was a thin band, a slash of starless blackness which bisected the firmament. In the west a copper-colored, fuzzy light was rising. Like a comet without a tail, it was at the very center of the band.

  "So?" grunted Ilyire.

  "Important I go Maralinga now. No time losing."

  "To lose," added Glasken, anxious to be free of both of them. "I'll ride on ahead and risk getting shot."

  "First good suggestion you make--" began Ilyire.

  "We go together," Theresla decided.

  The Highliber realized that the chance of Ilyire and Teresla ever returning to

  Maralinga was probably remote, yet she had ordered the rail side to be fitted out to prepare for them. They were challenged at the southern sentry post two hours before midnight, and once the sergeant of the watch realized who they were he lit a green flare to alert the rail side The Marshal had assembled the staff and troops of the entire rail side for a lavish welcome ceremony that he had been planning ever since he had been appointed. Only the beam flash crew was absent, and they were already transmitting messages to the Highliber.

  By the time Theresla, Ilyire, and Glasken were being escorted through the rail side cloisters to a hastily prepared open air banquet, the Highliber's reply was being decoded in the beam flash gallery. A lackey brought it down in a pulley cage and ran to the courtyard where the Marshal was raising the first toast to the travelers. He broke the seal with a flourish and held the poor paper up to a lantern.

  "A message from the Highliber," he began grandly. "She sends her greetings to the Abbess Theresla and the intrepid warrior Ilyire, and bids the good Abbess go to the tower gallery at once to speak with her over the beam flash

  "A message?" exclaimed Theresla. "I am told... Highliber is living, ah, very distant."

  "It's the signaling towers that I tried to explain about," said Glasken. "They relay messages to anywhere within minutes." "Fras Glasken is nearly right, but we are so remote here that a securely coded exchange with Rochester takes almost an hour," added the Marshal. "Un fortunately Overliber Darien vis Babessa had been recalled to Rochester--"

  Ilyire gave a loud sigh of relief and Theresla giggled. The Marshal paused with his mouth open, then went on. "Luckily a beam flash inspector from Rochester is visiting the rail side to explain some new codes and procedures. She will code and decode for you."

  Theresla squirmed, then shivered. She was not used to being with so many men, and the relative familiarity of even the most respectful of them was unsettling

  "Where to speak with Highliber?" she asked. "You could give a message to me, Frelle Abbess, and I would have it taken to the beam flash gallery at the top of the tower for transmission," said the Marshal hopefully.

  "An hour exchanging, more minutes for up and down tower," Theresla said aloud as she looked across to the immense stone and wood structure. "I am wishing to say, ah, very secret things. Highliber says go to gallery, so do I. Is Inspector of gallery trust able

  "She has a higher security clearance than me," the Marshal assured her. "Then I go. Up tower. Please to have me taken." Leaving Glasken and Ilyire to eat, drink, and listen to the speeches and music, the Marshal escorted Theresla to the tower's lift cage and worked the drive clamps. He was in full parade uniform while his distinguished guest was still in reeking, travel-stained lancers' robes. The contrast made his skin crawl.

  "You have men pulling.." cage up?" Theresla asked as the lift ascended the center of the tower.

  "The cage is lifted by counterweights, Frelle, as in a reciprocating clock."

  "Re-cipro-ca ting Don't know word. Counter-weight machines, yes, we have them. What resets counterweights?"

  "A rotor tower driven by the wind provides enough rewind for twelve ascents and descents per day. We seldom need even half of that." The beam flash gallery was mostly enclosed, so that the operators' eyes would remain sensitive as they looked through the telescopes and read the signals from the distant towers in daylight. One telescope pointed east and another west. The beam flash network had been extended west by another three towers since Ilyire had last been there, and Kalgoorlie would be linked to Rochester within another year.

  The beam flash crew sat ready at their equipment and the Inspector met them at the cage landing. She was a cheerful but brisk woman, dressed in a black uniform and wearing a Dragon Silver arm band that gleamed in the soft light from the lanterns. As the first high official from Libris that Theresla had encountered, she made a good impression.

  "Marshal, another request," said Theresla as they stood before the lift's door.

  "Man with me is great value. You protect with all cost. Yes?"

  "Which man, Frelle Abbess?"

  "Big, strong man, Fras John Glasken."

  "At your word, Frelle Abbess. Shall I hold him in chains?"

  "No, no. Just keep safe. No sexing with women, too. Yes?" "He will be treated like a mayor but watched discreetly. Now, may I intro duce you to Beamflash Inspector Lemorel Milderellen, Dragon Silver, EdR. Frelle Milderellen, this is the Abbess Theresla of Glenellen."

  The librarian bowed stiffly in the gloom of the beam flash gallery, her eyes bulging wide and gleaming in the lamplight. There was no longer a smile on her face.

  "The day's fortune to you, Frelle Abbess," she said in a cold, controlled voice. The Marshal stepped back into the lift cage and descended. Theresla was used to people being nervous in her presence, but Lemorel's abrupt change in manner surprised her particularly. After reflecting for a moment she decided that the librarian's sudden coldness was probably something to do with Libris discipline. Lemorel began to show her around the gallery and explain the equipment. Theresla frowned at some of the words.

  "Frelle Abbess, I have become reasonably fluent in your language with the help of Overliber Darien. Should we speak in Alspring?" "No, Austaric speaking please." Lemorel shrugged and guided her to the beam flash transmission desk. "Now, do you have a message ready for Highliber Zarvora?" she asked.

  Theresla had rehearsed any number of greetings for the Highliber, but in spite of Glasken's account of beam flash technology she had not been prepared for this. Lemorel made some adjustments to an encryption machine, then linked its output lever to the beam flash key. Theresla spoke some thoughts and formalities in her limited Austaric and Lemorel wrote them into a consistent message.

  "How does this sound, Frelle Abbess? "I am honored to greet you, Frelle Highliber. Your machines and science are as
tounding. I know the basics of your language. I met a man who once worked for you, John Glasken. He was a prisoner of my people, but I freed him. He taught me some Austaric while we traveled SOUth." "

  "Seeming right," Theresla decided. "Send." "Is that all, Frelle Abbess?" "Ah... yes." "With respect, Frelle, there is nothing of substance in your message for the Highliber. Do you have anything important to tell her? Remember that her reply will not reach here for at least fifty minutes."

  Something important! Theresla frowned for a moment, but could think of nothing else besides the Call. She began to explain what she had seen and done. Finally Lemorel read the text back.

  " "I have been to the Edge of our world. I have looked upon the source of the Call. It is made by huge fish. I have listened to their speech with a special machine of my own making. Is this of interest to you? I know nothing of your sciences and philosophical researches. You must ask many questions. What do you know of the band across the sky?" "

  "Is good, you send," Theresla decided. Theresla watched Lemorel typing, mesmerized by her fingers flickering over the keys of the encfiption device. The message clicked into pulses of light focused from a flare above the gallery. There were twenty-one beam flash towers between Maralinga and Rochester, and the message would accumulate as much as a minute delay in each of them. In the clear night air of the Nullarbor there were few transmission errors, and the turnaround times were more like fifteen seconds. By the last word of her message the first pulse of light was only four towers from Renmark, at the western edge of the Southeast Alliance. Dispersing fog and the smoke from a grass fire at Robinvale would introduce errors after this, and there would have to be

  retransmission.

  The Marshal sent a change of clothing up for Theresla. She washed and changed in the beam flash operators' tiny washroom while her message was making its journey. She emerged wearing a black tunic and trousers, with a Dragon Silver arm band Lemorel watched her pace about hesitantly, stiffly, with her arms folded across her breasts. "Is something the matter, Frelle?" asked Lemorel.

  "Feeling bare. Like breasts exposed, legs naked."

  "In our society this is modest dress. You could wear a cloak, but it would look odd in this hot climate." "No, no cloak. Better feeling naked than looking odd." She ran her fingers along the well-tailored fabric. "Very lucky. My size and form, ah, matching uniform here."

  "The Highliber sent a hundred uniforms across. The fittings ranged from small and thin to tall and fat. The Marshal's hospitality lackey is trained to estimate fittings by sight alone, then choose the correct uniform. We have gone to great trouble to make you feel welcome."

  Theresla searched Lemorel's cold, composed face, increasingly nervous at her manner. "I disappoint you? Yes? No?"

  "It's not my business to make judgments, Frelle."

  "You seem, ah, distant."

  "Do I, Frelle? I'm sorry. I work so much as the extension of a machine that perhaps I have come to resemble one." Lemorel turned a smile on instantly. Theresla laughed with relief just as a bell clanged. A receptor began to work the keys of his paper tape punch. Although ten feet across the room, Lemorel closed her eyes and typed into the decoder. "You not read paper tape, Frelle?" asked Theresla.

  "I recognize his keystroke patterns," said Lemorel tersely, her eyes still shut. A second strip of paper tape reeled out of the decryption box, and this contained the decoded message. Lemorel ran it past a frosted glass screen lit by a lamp.

  "From Highliber Dragon Black Zarvora Cybeline, EdR, the day's fortune to you, Frelle Abbess. I have read an account of Ilyire's journey to the Edge of the land written by Darien vis Babessa. I wish to hear your account from your own lips, so we must meet at once. Instruct the Marshal to get a galley train ready. What is the nature of the machine by which you can hear the Call beings? The idea of communicating with them is of great interest to me. Our world is in danger from a machine left over from the old civilization, but while the Call scours our lands and cities we cannot easily stop it. Glasken was declared missing and presumed dead more than half a year ago. As to the band in the sky, I can only tell you to your face." "

  Theresla pouted and cleared her throat. "I speak, you type. My Austaric only improve with using."

  "As you will," said Lemorel, her fingers poised above the keys of the encryption machine. "Frelle Highliber, you right. We need speaking together. My machine is, ah, human energies. Explaining later. John Glasken, vital part. His, ah, lustings so much, I never see similar. Must orotectin Glasken. Costs no rnnttr I find 1 him from Alspring traders. I not free companion, ah, Ni-kalan, also of--Frelle Lemorel, you are unwell?"

  Lemorel had almost doubled over, clenching her fists, her face contorted. Almost as rapidly she straightened and took a deep breath, but within her head she had plunged over an Edge and down into insanity. For months she had tortured herself for putting Nikalan into the battle calculor and sending him to his death. She had even transferred to the Inspectorate to try to rebuild her shattered life. Now the truth had ridden out of the desert, and it had Glasken's leering face!

  "A slight cramp, nothing serious," muttered Lemorel. She began to type again, speaking Theresla's words aloud. " "I encountered, but did not free, Glasken's companion Nikalan." Please continue, Frelle Abbess."

  "No more, thank you. Please to call Marshal on, ah, voice wire box?" Lemorel listened carefully as they spoke. "Preparing... travel machine for Rochester," Theresla began. "A galley train," twittered the distant Marshal's voice. "Whatever. Leaving tonight. Teacher of Austaric come also." "Consider it done, Frelle Abbess. Is there anything else?"

  "Yes. Murder wish Ilyire has for Glasken. Ilyire hating. Ilyire has strong morals, Glasken has no morals. Glasken on galley train to come. Is vital."

  "That may not be wise. Glasken is badly burned and has sun-exposure sickness. Further travel so soon may harm his health." "Ilyire might soon kill Glasken." "Take Ilyire with you."

  "Ilyire has work. Here. For me."

  "Once Glasken can travel again I'll be his personal escort. As for Ilyire, I

  swear I shall keep Glasken and him well apart."

  "Ah, is good." Theresla broke the connection, leaned back in the chair and stretched. By now it was past midnight. She removed the pins from her hair and it burst free in a black cascade. Lemorel sat with her hands clasped in her lap as Theresla began to comb out the tangles.

  "Frelle Lemorel, my words to Highliber seeming strange, yes?" "The Highliber's work is never dull, Frelle Abbess." "More exciting than secret of Call?"

  "I cannot comment. It's the discipline of the service."

  "Discipline? Very good. Discipline not so much in Alspring cities. No discipline.., no... towers, trains, speech machines."

  Lemorel nodded agreeably, then called for a lackey.

  "Take the Abbess to the Marshal," she told the youth, then stood and bowed to Theresla. "I bid you the fortune of tomorrow, Frelle Abbess." Theresla imitated her bow. Lemorel watched the roof of the life cage descending for a moment, then returned to where Theresla had been sitting. With the aid of a lantern she picked four long, black hairs from the floor. She sat at the encoder and typed.

  / HAIR SAMPLES SECURED FROM ABBESS. BARBER HAS HAIR

  SAMPLES FROM VINE MAN AND GLASKEN. SAMPLES WILL BE SENT

  1 SEALED BAG WITH TRAIN'S CAPTAIN. /

  She tore off the tape and walked across to the beam flash crew.

  "Send this to the Highliber," she ordered.

  "Can it wait until dawn, Frelle, or should I light another magnesium flare? We have orders to conserve them."

  "Light a flare, Fras Captain. The Highliber will want to know this." It took what remained of the night to insure that the almost becalmed westward express was shunted clear of the main line and into the siding at Tarcoola. Theresla did not sleep until she was aboard the galley train with her saddle pack of notes and instruments. As she began the journey east, Zarvora requisitioned a galley engine with the Mayor's personal carriage and se
t off west, taking Darien with her as linguist and translator. After two days the trains converged on the junction town of Peterborough. Constant, intensive tutoring had improved Theresla's command of Austaric somewhat.

  Theresla's train arrived first. Ever curious about the strange and exotic Austafic civilization, she left her carriage to climb to the gallery of the control tower of the Peterborough shunting yards with her translator. The Overswitch had been told only that an important guest of the Highliber had arrived. He went through his usual tour description as they walked around the circular stone gallery.

  "Peterborough's always been the junction of three major para lines but now, with the recent linkup of the Rochester may orates through the new Loxton tracks, aye, traffic is double or more."

  Theresla looked down at her own train. The galley engine was on a turntable, being turned for the trip back to Rochester. The exhausted navvy pedalers crew had already been relieved.

  "So much steel," Theresla said in wonder as she looked out over the rails. "Hard to believe.." so much steel."

  "Oh yes, these are big yards, Frelle. The rails here have been salvaged from abandons hundreds of miles away." She looked at a large compass rose set amid the tiles of the floor. The Auso taric word for Call was right on the west point, and the names of the three main lines were also on the rim.

  "Rochester is south now, yes?" she asked, disoriented. "No, Rochester is southeast. The par aline runs due south for a way, then veers east at Edunda. Ah, see that galley train on the southern par aline Very high priority on that one. It carries the Highliber. I've got nine wind trains ready to leave, yet they've been held for two days while you and the Highliber were converging. Seven of them are from the Central Confederation. Ah, but there'll be sharp words between mayors over that. You must be very important, Frelle."

  "I am," said Theresla, watching the red and green engine with its gold coach pulling into the shunting yards.

  There was a distant screeching of brake blocks being screwed down, and the train began slowing near Theresla's coach.