Rebka checked his wristwatch: twenty-three hours past Summertide. All the fireworks in the Quake and Opal system should be safely in the past. And for seventeen hours, he had been out of things completely.
He rubbed at his eyes, noticing that his face was no longer covered with ash and grime. Someone had not only carried him to the capsule, but had washed him and changed his clothes before leaving him to sleep. Who had done that? And who had provided the medical care to Perry and Lang?
That brought him back to his first question: with the four of them unconscious, who was minding the store?
He had trouble getting his feet to the floor and then found that he could not loose the harness that secured him. Even after seventeen hours of rest, he was weary enough for his fingers to be clumsy and fumbling. If Darya Lang looked like a teenager, he felt like a battered centenarian.
Finally he freed himself and was able to leave the improvised hospital. He considered trying to wake Perry and Lang—she still murmuring to herself in a protesting voice—and then decided against it. Almost certainly they had been anesthetized before their wounds were dressed and synthetic skin applied.
He slowly climbed the stairs that led to the observation-and-control deck of the capsule. The clear roof of the upper chamber showed Midway Station in the middle distance. Far above, confirming that the capsule was descending toward Opal, Rebka saw the distant prospect of Quake, dark-clouded and brooding.
The walls of the observation deck, ten meters high, were paneled with display units. Julius Graves, seated at the control console and flanked by J'merlia and Kallik, was watching in thoughtful silence. The succession of broadcast displays that Graves was receiving showed a planetary surface—but it was Opal, not Quake.
Rebka watched for a while before announcing his presence. With their attention on Quake, it had been easy to forget Opal had also experienced the biggest Summertide in human history. Aerial and orbital radar shots, piercing the cloud layers of the planet, showed broad stretches of naked seabed laid bare by millennial tides. Muddy ocean floor was spotted with vast green backs: dead Dowsers, the size of mountains, lay stranded and crushed under their own weight.
Other videos showed the Slings of Opal disintegrating as contrary waves, miles high and driven by the tidal forces, pulled at and twisted the ocean's surface.
An emotionless voice-over from Opal listed the casualties: half the planet's population known dead, most in the past twenty-four hours; another fifth still missing. But even before assessment was complete, reconstruction was beginning. Every human on Opal was on a continuous work schedule.
The broadcasts made clear to Rebka that the people of Opal had their hands more than full. If his group were to land there, they should not look for assistance.
He drifted forward and tapped Graves lightly on the shoulder. The councilor jerked at the touch, swiveled in his chair, and grinned up at him.
"Aha! Back from Dreamland! As you see, Captain—" He flourished a thin hand upward, and then to the display screens. "Our decision to spend Summertide on Quake rather than Opal was not so unwise after all."
"If we'd stayed on the surface of Quake for Summertide, Councilor, we'd have been ashes. We were lucky."
"We were luckier than you think. And long before Summertide." Graves gestured to Kallik, who was manipulating displays with one forelimb and entering numbers into a pocket computer with another. "According to our Hymenopt friend, Opal suffered worse than Quake. Kallik has been doing energy-balance calculations in every spare moment since we left the surface. She agrees with Commander Perry—the surface should have been far more active than it was during the Grand Conjunction. The full energy was never released while we were there. Some focused storage-and-release mechanism was at work for the tidal energies. Without it, the planet would have been uninhabitable for humans long before we left it. But with it, most of the energy went to some other purpose."
"Councilor, Quake was quite bad enough. Elena Carmel is dead. Atvar H'sial and Louis Nenda may be dead, too."
"They are."
"I'm glad to hear it. I don't know if you realize this, but they were in orbit around Quake at Summertide and they tried to blow us out of the sky. They deserved what they got. But why are you so sure they're dead?"
"Darya Lang saw Nenda's ship dragged off toward Gargantua with an acceleration too much for any human or Cecropian to survive. They had to be crushed flat inside it."
"Nenda's ship had a full star drive. No local field should have held it."
"If you wish to argue that point, Captain, you'll have to do it with Darya Lang. She saw what happened; I did not."
"She's asleep."
"Still? She became unconscious again when J'merlia started work on her foot, but I am surprised she is not waking." Graves turned in annoyance. "Now then, what do you want?"
J'merlia was hesitantly touching his sleeve, while by his side Kallik was hopping and whistling in excitement.
"With great respect, Councilor Graves." J'merlia moved to kneel before him. "But Kallik and I could not help hearing what you said to Captain Rebka—that Master Nenda and Atvar H'sial escaped from Quake, then they were hurtled off to Gargantua and crushed by the acceleration."
"Toward Gargantua, my Lo'tfian friend. Perhaps not to Gargantua itself. Professor Lang was quite insistent on the point."
"With apologies, I should have said toward Gargantua. Honored Councilor, would it be possible for Kallik and my humble self to be excused from duties for a few minutes?"
"Oh, go on. And don't grovel, you know I hate it." Graves waved them away. As the aliens headed for the capsule's lower level, he turned back to Rebka.
"Well, Captain, unless you want to collapse again into slumber, I propose that we go below ourselves and check on Commander Perry and Professor Lang. We have plenty of time. The Umbilical will not offer access to Opal for another few hours. And our official work in the Dobelle system is over."
"Yours may be. Mine is not."
"It will be, Captain, very soon." The grinning skeleton was as infuriatingly casual and self-assured as ever.
"You don't even know what my real work is."
"Ah, but I do. You were sent to find out what was wrong with Commander Perry, see what it was that kept him in a dead-end job in the Dobelle system—and cure him."
Rebka sank into a seat in front of the control console. "Now how the devil did you find that out?" His voice was puzzled rather than annoyed.
"From the obvious place—Commander Perry. He has his own friends and information sources, back in the headquarters of the Phemus Circle. He learned why you were sent here."
"Then he should also know that I never did find out. I told you, my job is unfinished."
"Not true. Your official job is almost over, and it will be done with very soon. You see, Captain, I know what happened to Max Perry seven years ago. I suspected it before we came to Quake, and I confirmed it when I queried the commander under sedation. All it took were the right questions. And I know what to do. Trust me, and listen."
Julius Graves hauled his long body over to a monitor, pulled a data unit the size of a sugar cube from his pocket, and inserted it into the machine. "This is sound only, of course. But you will recognize the voice, even though it appears much younger. I sent his memory back seven years. I will play only a fragment. No purpose is served by making private suffering into a public event."
. . . Amy was still acting goofy and playful, even in the heat. She was laughing as she ran on ahead of me, back toward the car that would take us to the Umbilical. It was only a few hundred meters away, but I was getting tired.
"Hey, slow down. I'm the one who has to carry the equipment."
She spun around, teasing me. "Oh, come on, Max. Learn to have some fun. You don't need any of that stuff. Leave it here—nobody will ever notice it's gone."
She made me smile, in spite of the growing noise around us and the sweat that covered my body. Quake was hot."
"I can't d
o that Amy—it's official property. It all has to be accounted for. Wait for me."
But she just laughed. And danced on—on into that funny blurring of the surface, the fragile, shimmering ground of Summertide . . .
. . . before I could get near her, she was gone. Just like that, in a fraction of a second. Swallowed up by Quake. All that I could take back with me was the pain . . .
"There is more, but it adds nothing." Graves stopped the recording. "Nothing that you cannot guess, or should not hear. Amy died in molten lava, not in boiling mud. Max Perry saw that shimmering of heated air again, in the Pentacline Depression—but too late to save Elena Carmel."
Hans Rebka shrugged. "Even if you know what drove Max Perry into his shell, that's not the hardest part of my job. I'm supposed to cure him, and I don't know where to begin."
Rebka knew that his present sense of failure and incompetence should be only temporary, no more than a side effect of exhaustion following days of tension. But that did not make it any less real.
He stared at one of the wall displays, which showed a Sling floating upside down and shattered by the impact of mighty seas. All that could be seen was a wilderness of black, slippery mud from which jutted random tangles of roots. He wondered if anyone could possibly have survived when the Sling capsized.
"How?" he went on. "How do you pull someone out of a seven-year depression? I don't know that."
"Of course you don't. That's my area of expertise, not yours." Graves turned abruptly and headed for the stairway. "Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Time to see what's going on below decks. I think those pesky aliens are plotting a mutiny, but we'll ignore that for the moment. Right now we have to talk to Max Perry."
Was Graves going crazy again? Rebka sighed. Oh, for the good old days, when he was flying through Quake's clouds and wondering if they would survive another second of turbulence. He followed close behind the other man, down to the second level of the capsule.
J'merlia and Kallik were nowhere to be seen.
"I told you," Graves said. "They're down in the cargo hold. Those two are up to something, sure as taxes. Give me a hand here."
With Rebka's puzzled assistance, the councilor carried Max Perry and then Geni Carmel back to the upper level of the capsule. Darya Lang, still muttering to herself on the brink of consciousness, was left in her securing harness.
Graves placed Max Perry and Geni Carmel in seats at ninety degrees to each other and fixed them in position.
"Put extra bindings on those harnesses," he said to Rebka. "Make sure you don't touch Perry's injured arms—but remember I don't want either of them to be able to get loose. I'll be back in a minute."
Graves made one final trip to the lower level. When he reappeared he was carrying two spray hypodermics in his right hand.
"Darya Lang is waking up," he said, "but let's get this taken care of first. It won't take long." He injected Perry in the shoulder with one syringe and Geni Carmel with the other. "Now, we can begin." He began to count aloud.
The wake-up shot given to Max Perry was full strength. Before Graves had reached ten, Perry sighed, rolled his head from side to side, and slowly opened his eyes. He stared around the capsule's cabin with a dull and disinterested look, until his gaze found the still-unconscious Geni Carmel. Then he groaned and closed his eyes again.
"You are awake," Graves said in a reproving tone. "So don't you go falling asleep again. I have a problem, and I need your help."
Perry shook his head, and his eyes remained shut.
"We'll be back on Opal in a few hours," Graves went on. "And life will start to return to normal. But I have the responsibility for the rehabilitation of Geni Carmel. Now, there must be formal hearings, back on Shasta and on Miranda, but that cannot be allowed to interfere with the rehab program. It has to begin at once. And the death of Elena makes the program very difficult. I feel it would be disastrous to let Geni go back to Shasta, with all its memories of her twin sister, until she is already on the road to recovery. On the other hand I myself must return to Shasta, and then go on to Miranda for the formal genocide hearing."
He paused. Perry still had not opened his eyes.
Graves leaned close and lowered his voice. "So that leaves me with two questions to answer. Where should the rehabilitation of Geni Carmel begin? And who should oversee the rehab process, if I will not be around?
"That is where I need your help, Commander. I have decided that Geni's rehab program should begin on Opal. And I propose to make you her guardian while it is proceeding."
At last Graves had broken through. Perry jerked bolt upright in the restraining harness. His bloodshot eyes opened wide. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I thought I was clear enough." Graves was smiling. "But let me say it again. Geni will remain on Opal for at least four more months. You will be responsible for her welfare while she is there."
"You can't do that."
"I'm afraid you're wrong. Ask Captain Rebka if you doubt me. In matters like this, a Council member has full authority to proceed with prompt rehabilitation. And anyone can be pressed into service. That includes you."
Perry glared at Rebka, then back at Graves. "I won't do it. I have my own work—a full-time job. And she needs a specialist.
I have no idea how to deal with her sort of problem."
"You can certainly learn." Graves nodded at the other chair, where Geni was slowly waking in response to her weaker injection. "She's starting to listen now. As a first move, you can tell her about Opal. Remember, Commander, she has never been there. It's going to be her home for a while, and you know as much about it as anyone."
"Wait a minute!" Perry was struggling at his harness and calling to Graves, who was already ushering Rebka out of the chamber. "We're tied in. You can't leave us like this! Look at her."
Geni Carmel was making no effort to escape from her harness, but tears were trickling down her pale cheeks, and she was staring in horror or fascination at Perry's mutilated hands and forearms.
"Sorry," Graves said over his shoulder as he and Rebka started down toward the lower level of the capsule. "We'll discuss this more later, but I can't do it now. Captain Rebka and I have something very urgent to take care of on the lower deck. We'll be back."
Rebka waited until they were out of earshot before he spoke again to Graves. "Are you serious about any of that?"
"I am serious about all of it."
"It won't work. Geni Carmel is just a child. With Elena dead, she doesn't even want to live. You know how close they were, so close they would die rather than be separated from each other. And Perry is a basket case himself—he's in no shape to look after her."
Julius Graves halted at the bottom of the stairway. He turned to look up at Hans Rebka, and for once his face was neither grinning nor grimacing. "Captain, when I need a man who can fly an overloaded, power-drained ship like the Summer Dreamboat off a planet that is falling apart underneath us, and take me into space, I'll come to you anytime. You are very good at your job—your real job. Can't you do me the favor of admitting that the same could be true of me? Isn't it conceivable that I might do my job well?"
"But that isn't your job."
"Which only shows, Captain, how little you know of the duties of a Council member. Believe me, what I am doing will work. Or would you prefer a wager? I say that Max Perry and Geni Carmel have more chance of curing each other than you or I have of doing anything useful for either of them. As you said, she is just a child who needs help—but Perry is a man who desperately needs to give help. He's been doing penance for seven years for his sin in allowing Amy to go with him to Quake during Summertide. Don't you realize that burning his arms like that will help his mental condition? Now he has a chance to obtain total absolution. And your job on Opal is finished. You could leave today, and Perry would be fine." Graves snapped his fingers and held out his hand to Rebka. "Would you like to bet on that? Name the amount."
Rebka was saved from a reply by an
angry voice ahead of them.
"I don't know who to thank for this, and I'm not about to ask. But will someone get me the hell out of here! I have work to do."
It was Darya Lang, fully conscious and struggling to free herself from the harness. She sounded nothing like the shy theoretical scientist who had first arrived on Opal, but her practical skills were still lacking. In her efforts to free herself she had managed to tangle the bindings, so that she was hanging upside down and could hardly move her arms.
"She's all yours, Captain," Graves said unexpectedly. "I'm going to find J'merlia and Kallik." He popped down the hatchway at the side of the chamber and vanished from sight.
Rebka went across to Lang and studied the way the harness had been knotted. Less and less, he understood what was going on. With their escape from Quake, everyone except him should have been able to relax; instead, they all seemed to have new agendas of their own. Darya Lang sounded urgent and furious.
He reached out, tugged gently at one point of the harness and hard at another one. The result was gratifying. The bindings released completely to deposit Darya Lang lightly onto the chamber floor. He helped her to her feet and was rewarded with a surprising and embarrassed smile.
"Now why couldn't I have done that?" She put pressure tentatively on her injured foot, shrugged, and pressed harder. "Last thing I remember, we'd just reached the Umbilical, and Graves and Kallik were fixing me up from the med kits. How long have I been asleep—and when do we reach Opal?"
"I don't know how long you've been asleep, but it's twenty-three hours since Summertide." Rebka consulted his watch. "Make that closer to twenty-four. And we ought to touch down on Opal in a couple of hours. If we can touch down. They took a real beating there. There's no rush, though. We have plenty of food and water on board. We can live in this capsule for weeks—even go back up the Umbilical to Midway Station if we have to, and stay there indefinitely."
Convergent Series Page 25
