With certain exceptions, the other survivors accepted that constraint. They concentrated on food, drink, and rest, and they needed all three. But Louis Nenda, muttering that being called a hero by everybody was worse than being called a villain, wandered off by himself; and a blind and insomniac Graves chose to follow, prowling the interior of the artifact with J'merlia as his eyes and guide. They rapidly confirmed Darya Lang's theory that the artifact of Serenity was gigantic, equal in volume and living space to the biospheres of a dozen worlds; but only a tiny fraction of that could be attained, unless the traveler learned Speaker-Between's knack of gliding through walls and floors.
Graves lacked that ability. As the hours wore on his agitation grew. He finally came back to the main chamber and joined the others, still restless.
"What's the big deal?" Birdie Kelly asked. He had become Graves's confidant, as well as the official custodian of E. C. Tally's brain, which he carried with the distracted air of a man holding an unexploded bomb. "Tally isn't suffering. Actually, he's not doing anything at all. Must be nice to be able to switch yourself off when things get nasty." Birdie became aware of Graves's sightless glare. "Anyway, with the Zardalu gone, this place is safe enough. Come on, Councilor. Lighten up."
"I'm not worrying about Tally. And I'm not worrying about us." Graves flopped moodily down by one of the big Zardalu stasis tanks. "I'm worried about these." He rapped the side of the tank. "And what was in them."
"The Zardalu? They're all dead."
"Are they? Can you prove that to me?" Graves closed his blind eyes and slumped there breathing through his mouth. As usual when he spoke to Birdie, all his questions seemed to be rhetorical.
"I know they went down the vortex," he continued, just when Kelly wondered if the councilor was falling asleep. "But who is to say that they are dead? Professor Lang is sure that the vortex is part of a transportation system. She says that Speaker-Between confirmed that, or at least didn't deny it. Transportation systems are not designed to kill their passengers. Suppose that the Zardalu were transported safely—and have finished up somewhere in the spiral arm?"
"Suppose they were?" Birdie sniffed. "Big deal! They've been gone for God knows how long, eleven thousand years or something like that, and there's only a few of them left. I'm not afraid of the Zardalu." Not when they're all dead, or thirty thousand light-years away, he added to himself. "I can't see 'em doing much damage in a couple of days."
"That's not what I'm worried about!" Graves's tone provided the "you idiot," though he did not say the words. "I'm worried about tracing them. If this vortex is anything like a Bose Network Transition Point, the transition trail decays exponentially with time. Today we may be able to say just where they went. Tomorrow it becomes a bit more difficult. A week from now it's a major task, and in a month it's impossible no matter what technology you have available. The Zardalu could be tucked away where no one can find them. What do you say to that?"
Birdie was saved from saying anything by the return of Louis Nenda. That reluctant hero nodded coldly at Graves and Kelly and went over to the food-supply cabinets. He had a second satchel slung at his side, far bigger than his usual black one. He had made it, and a crude jacket, from webbing left behind by the Zardalu. He was packing the satchel and the jacket pockets with enough food for a week.
"Wish we had a way to heat this," he grunted. "Cold food is lousy." He turned to Graves. "Your buddy's back, you know. Over in the next room but one."
"Buddy?"
"Old moan-'n'-groan. Speaker-Between."
Graves was on his feet at once. "What is he doing there?" But he did not wait for an answer. He was blundering out of the chamber, shouting to Lang and Rebka, who were deep in private conversation. "Professor! Captain! He is here. Now is our chance."
"Chance for what?" Hans Rebka had been busy telling age-old lies to Darya Lang, with her thorough approval. But again Graves did not wait for an answer. He allowed Nenda to lead him through the nearest chambers, while the rest of the group followed at their own pace.
Nenda's statement had been partly true. The Builder construct was half-visible, just the tail and lower part of the silver body. The upper part was presumably there, but it was hidden by the ceiling of the room, fifteen meters above their heads.
Graves listened to Nenda's description in total frustration. "But if he's stuck up there, how the devil am I supposed to—"
"Easy." Nenda nodded to Kallik, who had entered with Atvar H'sial and J'merlia. "Go get 'em."
The Hymenopt crouched on seven limbs—the lost eighth was regrowing fast, and nearly a foot long—and sprang straight up. She grabbed and swung on Speaker-Between's barbed tail. After a few seconds, they both began to descend.
"The Zardalu are gone." Graves started to speak even before Speaker-Between's flower-petal head was fully in view. "But it is of paramount importance that we follow them—at once!"
"If you would kindly release my tail . . ." The silver pentagon turned slowly to face Graves. "Your request cannot be fulfilled. The Zardalu indeed are gone. I therefore judge that they are losers. You were able to defeat and banish them. But the evaluation is not yet over. Is it necessary to remind you that there can be only one species judged fit to work with the Builders? I would be derelict in my own duties should I halt this evaluation before it is complete."
"You do not understand. Can you guarantee that the Zardalu were all killed when they entered the vortex?"
"One moment." Speaker-Between coalesced to a sphere, then just as rapidly rippled back to form the horned and tailed chimera. "That question is not easy to answer," he said when he was fully reconstructed. "The Zardalu suffered an unstructured transition. It is not one that is highly forbidden, and therefore it is not inevitably fatal. The Zardalu could have survived it. They may be alive. They may be all dead. What is the relevance of the question?"
"To you, perhaps very little. To us, and to all intelligences of the spiral arm, it is very great. If there is a chance that the Zardalu survive, it is imperative that we return to alert our fellows."
"Imperative to whom? It is not imperative to me, or to my masters." Speaker-Between floated toward Julius Graves, settling close enough for the councilor to reach out and touch him. "You do not appear to understand. There is no technical difficulty in returning you to your homes, or to any location in the spiral arm or out of it; and it may be possible to determine where the Zardalu went, though that is less sure. But those issues are academic. I say again, the selection procedure is not complete. There remain both humans and Cecropians. Until only one remains, it is not permitted for you to leave."
"Hopeless." Graves turned to the others. "Totally hopeless. I have worked with a score of intelligences, through the whole of the spiral arm, but with this—this silver bubble-brain there can be no meeting of minds, no basis for negotiation."
"Mebbe. And mebbe not." Louis Nenda glanced around at the others. "D'you agree with the councilor? Nothin' to lose, nothin' to gain? 'Cause if you do, mind if I take a shot?"
"Go ahead." Hans Rebka had a little grin on his face. "Try your thing."
"All right." Nenda walked over to stand right in front of Speaker-Between. "The selection procedure isn't over, you say. I'll buy that. But the Zardalu are out of it, so it's just between two species. Cecropians, and humans. Right?"
"That is a correct conclusion."
"And it doesn't matter how many humans and Cecropians fight it out, does it? You were quite happy to leave us to tackle fourteen Zardalu, even though there were only a handful of humans, and a couple of aliens."
"In our experience, the number of entities is rarely the deciding factor."
"Fair enough. So the selection could be done just as well if there was only one of each—one human, and one Cecropian?"
"That is wholly reasonable."
"All right, then. So what's the point of keeping this whole crazy roster? Let the rest go—and keep just two of us. Me and Atvar H'sial. We'll fight it out between us."
"No." Graves was shaking his head violently. "That is a sacrifice that I will not ask of anyone. To leave you here, while the rest of us return to safety, it would be—"
"Hey, what do you mean, safety? Goin' back is different for me and At than for the rest of you. Look what happens to us when we get there. We're charged with serious crimes the minute we hit civilization, and next thing you know we're jailed or brain-wiped. Not much fun in that.
"I am the person who brought those charges." Graves's skeletal face bore an expression of anguish. "I will petition to have them dropped. After what you and Atvar H'sial did, to save us from the Zardalu—"
"You can petition, sure you can. Maybe that'll get us off the hook. But maybe it won't. Seems to me, At and yours truly ain't much worse off here than we are there. For the rest of you, it's a different story. You get to go back home, and write your nice little reports on everything that happened. Chase the Zardalu, too, if there's time left over and they didn't fly ass-over-tentacle up their own wazoo. But me." He shrugged.
The flower head was nodding. "Your internal disputes are not germane to my decision. However, the proposal you make is acceptable. If one human and one Cecropian remain to complete the selection process, the rest may return to the spiral arm. It can be to your most recent departure point, or to any other place of your choosing. If you wish it, and if I can ascertain it, your destination can even be the final arrival point of the Zardalu—assuming that location is able to support life."
"No, thanks." Rebka cut off discussion, just as Graves was about to start up again. "We have to warn other people before we start chasing. We'll go back to somewhere safe."
He turned to Louis Nenda. "As for you . . . I don't usually find it hard to know what to say. But you've got me this time. All I can think of is, thanks—from all of us. And pass that thank-you on to Atvar H'sial."
Nenda grinned. "I will, in a minute. First I've got to explain to At what she just volunteered for."
Graves stared at him pop-eyed. "You are joking, aren't you? Atvar H'sial already gave her approval for your proposal."
"Sure. Sure I'm joking." Nenda was turning casually away. "Don't worry about it. No problem."
But Kallik was stepping forward. "So it is settled, then. The rest will return. And Atvar H'sial, Louis Nenda, and their loyal servants, Kallik and J'merlia, will remain."
"Whoa, now." Nenda held up his hand. "I never said that." He looked at Speaker-Between and Hans Rebka. "If you don't mind, At and I and J'merlia and Kallik need a few words in private. Five minutes?"
He ushered the other three out of the chamber at once, not waiting for a nod of assent.
"You see, Kallik." His voice was oddly gentle as they came to a smaller room, out of earshot of the others. "You have to understand the situation. Things are different now. Not like what they was, back in the good old days before we went to Quake. They've changed. And you've changed, you and J'merlia. I've been translating for Atvar H'sial as we go, and she agrees with me completely. It wouldn't be right for you to be slaves anymore—either of you."
"But Master Nenda, that is what we want! J'merlia and I, we followed you from Opal, only that we might be with you and serve you again."
"I know. Don't think we don't appreciate that, me and At." Nenda had tears in his eyes. "But it wouldn't work out, Kallik. Not now. You've been deciding your own actions ever since we left you behind on Quake. You've been thinking for yourselves, doing for yourselves. You've tasted independence. You've earned independence."
"But we do not want independence!" J'merlia's voice rose to a mournful wail. "Even though Atvar H'sial agrees with you, this should not be. It must not be."
"See? That makes my argument exactly." Nenda reached out to pat J'merlia's narrow thorax. "Listen to yourself! Atvar H'sial says what she wants you to do—an' you start arguing with her. Would you have done that two months ago?"
"Never!" J'merlia held up a claw to cover his compound eyes, appalled at his own temerity. "Argue with Atvar H'sial? Never. Master Nenda, with my most humble apologies and sincere regrets—"
"Stow it, J'merlia. You've proved the point. You and Kallik go on back, and start helping to run the spiral arm. You're as qualified as any species. I've known that for a long time."
"But we don't want to help to run the spiral arm!"
"Who does? That's what humans call the Smart Bugs' Burden. You gotta go back there and carry it, even though you don't want to. Otherwise, it will be the Ditrons who'll have to organize things."
"Master Nenda, please say that you are joking! The Ditrons, why they have less brains than—than some of the—"
"Before you put your foot in it real bad, J'merlia, I'll say yeah, I was joking. But not about the fact that you and Kallik have to go back. For one thing, Kallik's the only intelligent being in the spiral arm who's actually talked to Zardalu. That might be important."
J'merlia crawled forward and placed his head close to Atvar H'sial's hind limbs. "Master Nenda, I hear you. But I do not want to leave. Atvar H'sial is my dominatrix, and has been since I was first postlarval."
"Don't gimme that—"
"Allow me, Louis, if you will." The pheromonal message from Atvar H'sial carried a glint of dry humor. "With all respect, violent action is your forte, not reasoned persuasion." The towering Cecropian crouched low to the floor and brought her smooth blind head close to J'merlia. "Let us reason together, my J'merlia. Would you agree with me when I say that any intelligent being either is a slave, or is not a slave? That those two conditions are the only two logical possibilities?"
"Of course." J'merlia, once the slave-translator for Atvar H'sial, caught every nuance of meaning in her chemical message. He shivered without knowing why, sensing already that his cause was lost.
"Now you and Kallik," Atvar H'sial continued. "You are both intelligent beings, are you not?"
"Yes."
"Therefore either you are slaves, or you are not slaves. Agreed?"
"That is true."
"And if you are not slaves, then it is inappropriate for you to pretend that you are, by stating that you must remain here to serve me and Louis Nenda. You should go back to the spiral arm with the others and begin to live the life of free beings. A nonslave should not mimic a slave. True?"
"True."
"But suppose now that you are slaves, both you and Kallik; then you have no choice but to obey the orders of your masters. And those orders are quite explicit: Louis Nenda and I order you to return to the spiral arm and assist in finding the Zardalu if they are still alive. Thus in either case, slave or nonslave, you cannot remain here with us."
"Thanks, At." Nenda stepped forward and nodded to the Cecropian. "Couldn't have put it better myself." He turned to J'merlia and Kallik. "So that's the deal. We all go back in there now. You tell Speaker-Between and the others that you're ready to go. Right?"
Kallik and J'merlia exchanged a brief flurry of clicks and whistles.
"Yes, Mas—" Kallik caught herself before the word was fully out. "Yes, Louis Nenda. We are ready. J'merlia and I agree that we must return to the spiral arm with the others. We have no choice. We want to add only one thing. If ever you and Atvar H'sial need us, then you have to send only one word, Come, and we will hasten to your side."
The Hymenopt touched her black round head to the floor for a fraction of a second, then stood fully upright. She and J'merlia began to walk, without permission, from the chamber.
"And we will come joyfully," she added.
"Joyfully," J'merlia repeated. "A human or a Cecropian may find this hard to understand—but there is no pleasure in enforced freedom."
CHAPTER 27
All set.
But Birdie Kelly was going mad with frustration.
Everything had been ready for hours. The descending ramp to a new transportation vortex sat waiting in the next chamber, close enough for the airflow around the spinning singularity to be felt on skin and exoskeletons. Speaker-Between had assured the
group that the system was prepared to receive them, with an assured safe destination. It would transfer to Midway Station, halfway between the planets of Quake and Opal; a perfect location from Birdie's point of view, since it was the last place in the spiral arm where the Zardalu were likely to have arrived.
But now, at the very last moment, everyone seemed to be having second thoughts about going at all.
"If I had one more opportunity to reason with Speaker-Between, I feel sure I could persuade him of the unsound basis for the Builders' plan." That was Steven Graves, talking with Hans Rebka. Julius, unable to handle the idea of leaving Louis Nenda and Atvar H'sial to their uncertain fate, had abandoned the field to his interior mnemonic twin. Steven had been making the most of his opportunity.
"It stands to reason," he went on, "that many races working cooperatively would have more chance of helping the Builders to solve The Problem than any species working alone. Humans and Cecropians should be engaged in a joint effort, not fighting each other to decide who will assist the Builders."
"It stands to your reason," Rebka countered. Like Birdie he was itching to be on his way, though for different reasons. He was still seeing nightmares in midnight blue returning to dominate the spiral arm. He wanted to follow the trail before it was too cold. "You know that the Builders have a completely different worldview from any species we have ever met. And Speaker-Between is a Builder construct. You could argue with him for a million years—he has that much time—and you'd never persuade him to abandon two hundred million years of Builder prejudice. Give up, Steven, and tackle a problem we may be able to solve. Ask yourself where the Zardalu went, and what they are doing."
On that crucial question, Speaker-Between had been too vague for comfort. The best after-the-fact analysis showed that the Zardalu transition had been completed to an end point on a Builder artifact, probably in the old Zardalu Communion territories. It did not indicate which one, or offer any idea of what might have happened next.
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