The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

But what was there to say?

  After a time, he found his thoughts blurring. He thought, at one point, that he sensed a tiny tendril of presence reach out and touch something in his mind. Somehow it was a calming touch, and a few moments later, his thoughts quieted like a fading storm, and he drifted to sleep.

  *

  He dreamed of balls, EineySteiney balls. He dreamed of balls colliding and rebounding, tracing strange and impossible trajectories around a vast pool table, spinning past gravity wells and sliding, floating, never quite coming to rest. He felt that there was some strange and wonderful order in the way that they moved, some chaotic pattern that was not order as he knew it, but another kind of order . . .

  He dreamed of planets and planetary bodies spinning in strange and impossible trajectories, in a chaotic dance of the spheres that only the most perceptive could fathom . . .

  He dreamed of fire, consuming fire, the fire of a thousand suns . . .

  Chapter 18

  Just the Facts

  HE WOKE GRADUALLY, with fantastic imagery passing before his eyes: moving fractals and spinning chaotic attractors. He knew what the images were, though he didn't understand them. Some of them looked like exotic alien landscapes, and some like exploding crystals; he knew that they were neither, but rather mathematical representations. After a while, the images changed to color impressions that held no meaning for him whatever. He sensed that these were something from the quarx's personal experience.

  /// Are you awake? ///

  the quarx asked tentatively.

  He blinked his eyes open. For a moment, the images hung like transparent holograms in front of him; then they faded, and he was left with his own vision. /Yah—I'm awake./

  /// Are you still . . . mad? ///

  He sighed, remembering last night. /Yeah. I dunno. Are you making a peace offering?/

  /// I guess . . . you could say that. ///

  He thought of Julie.

  /// I really am sorry, you know. ///

  /Sorry enough to stay out of my way the next time I meet up with Julie?/

  /// I'll try. Very hard.

  I'm not sure . . . I can promise to succeed. ///

  /Mmm./ Bandicut decided that that was probably the best he could hope for. He sat up, banging his head on the bunk overhead. "OW! Damn it!"

  /// Would you like me to stop you

  when I see you getting ready to do that? ///

  /I would appreciate that very much./ Bandicut sighed, thinking that as long as he and the quarx were together, then he was going to have to make the best of it.

  Charlie cleared his throat.

  /// About the mission . . . ///

  /Yes? Are we going to get moving on that?/

  /// Well, we still need to get

  back to the translator,

  to find out exactly what we have to do.

  And the sooner the better. ///

  Bandicut grunted. /I can't control that./

  /// I know. I don't think any of us

  anticipated the difficulty we would have in returning.

  But until we do,

  we can't pinpoint the danger

  that we have to stop. ///

  Bandicut rubbed his eyebrows wearily. /So maybe it's time we told somebody about the danger. Then they could look for it, and take care of it, and we could quit worrying./

  /// I'm afraid that's not a viable option.

  The social turbulence factors are too great,

  the time is too short.

  And I know Charlie-One

  didn't trust your superiors. ///

  /Yeah, well . . ./ Bandicut couldn't argue with that. /Did he tell you all this in that little meeting we had?/

  /// A lot of it.

  And he helped me put together some pieces

  that I already had.

  But the important question is,

  do you believe that we can't go public—

  at least not yet? ///

  Bandicut pulled the privacy-curtain open and slid out of his bunk. His ankle ached fiercely. /All right—yes—you win./

  /// You're still mad, aren't you? ///

  the quarx asked softly.

  /Yeah./ He stumped toward the lav. The dorm was deserted. He realized that he had slept past the start of the workday, and then he realized that it didn't matter, because he was on the injured list. /I'll get over it. So what do you suggest, if we can't tell anyone?/

  /// If you have nothing else to do . . . ///

  /You already know I don't./

  /// Then may we do some library research? ///

  /In the datanet?/ Bandicut blanched, thinking of the havoc the quarx had wreaked last night.

  /// If it's up, yes.

  But I promise—no more meddling. ///

  /All right. After we eat./ Bandicut dressed quickly. /But if you're lying about meddling . . ./

  /// Hm? ///

  /I'm gonna cut your balls off./

  /// Uh . . . okay . . . ///

  *

  As it turned out, a portion of the datanet was back up, though not the connection to the inner solar system. Bandicut saw nothing to suggest that any connection had been made between the net crash and his own presence, which was a considerable relief. And Charlie was presently only interested in the general history files, which were easily available in the local library.

  The quarx spun through chapter after chapter of human history, while Bandicut, feeling a bit like a kid tagging along after a more knowledgeable older kid, glanced at some of the more interesting bits as Charlie scanned. From time to time, Charlie asked him for further illumination on historical questions, and almost invariably, he had to plead ignorance. History had never been a great interest of his.

  /// But you know that your history

  is full of violence among your own kind,

  don't you? ///

  /Of course. So what?/ Bandicut answered in irritation. They had covered all four of Earth's world wars, then jumped back to the Roman and Greek wars, then ahead to the crucifixion of Christ, then forward again to the Inquisitions and the Crusades. /What are you looking for exactly?/

  /// Information . . . understanding.

  For the social-attractor analysis.

  And, to be honest, my own curiosity.

  Look at this—

  Nation after nation destroyed, subjugated,

  entire peoples living under coercion . . .

  murder, mayhem, rape, thievery.

  It goes on and on,

  all through the history of your species. ///

  /Are you reciting all this just to make me depressed?/

  /// No, no, I want to know your thoughts.

  Do you know why this is true?

  None of these experts seem to agree. ///

  /Yes, well, what do you expect from experts? No, I have no idea. Just human nature, I guess. Isn't it like that everywhere?/ He was surprised by the quarx's puzzlement.

  /// Actually, no.

  I mean, it happens—yes.

  But many sentient races reserve their violence

  for outsiders. ///

  Bandicut thought about that. /Really? You mean, we're more violent than most?/

  /// Among yourselves, yes.

  The odd thing is that you seem to accept it—

  even relatively nonviolent individuals like you. ///

  /I—well—now, just a mokin' minute. I don't accept nothin'—but that doesn't mean I can do anything about it. How would you change a whole race's behavior pattern, if you're so damn smart?/

  /// I have no idea.

  Fortunately, that is not my problem.

  Not this time, anyway. ///

  /Well, aren't you just the lucky one!/

  /// I didn't mean to be critical, John.

  Anyway,

  there's much about your race that's admirable.

  Your art and literature.

  Okay, some of it stinks.

  Rock and roll music, for instance.

&nbs
p; TV.

  But there's your science, such as it is— ///

  /What's that supposed to mean?/

  /// —your philosophies and religions,

  and individual acts of sacrifice and genius.

  But I'm puzzled by a certain . . .

  suicidal instinct. ///

  Bandicut scowled ineffectually. /Are you done making your point? What do you want to look at now?/

  The quarx hesitated.

  /// Well, I hope this doesn't upset you, but . . .

  I need to know about your planetary defenses. ///

  Bandicut nearly jerked them out of the neurolink. /Hey!/

  /// Moke, I knew it would upset you.

  John, I'm not planning an invasion.

  I mean your defenses against natural disasters. ///

  /Oh./ Bandicut glared suspiciously for a moment, then reflected that anything on the public boards was probably not very critical in terms of security, anyway. He unclenched, and they dived together into a new area of the library files.

  /// This is unbelievable, ///

  Charlie said after studying the civil and planetary defense systems around Earth.

  /What's unbelievable?/

  /// Your complacency!

  You settle on floodplains,

  on earthquake faults,

  on mud cliffs;

  you leave your skies undefended . . . ///

  /That's not true! Not that last part, anyway./

  The quarx dismissed his objections.

  /// You defend yourselves against each other, yes.

  But against natural calamity?

  What would you do if your sun became unstable? ///

  /How the hell would I know? Run around waving our hands, I suppose. What could we do?/

  /// You'd be surprised at the solutions

  some races have come up with.

  But your people seem to think, on the one hand,

  that they're helpless—

  and on the other, that they're immortal. ///

  /What's your point, Charlie?/ Bandicut demanded angrily.

  /// My point is,

  your vulnerability to a comet or asteroid strike.

  You have no defense! ///

  /Well—/ Bandicut swallowed, trying to think of a way to argue, but there was none. /There were some defense systems for a while—but I guess they were too expensive to maintain./

  /// Expensive?

  How much is your civilization worth? ///

  /I don't know. What the hell kind of a question is that?/

  Charlie brushed aside the protest.

  /// Do you know what killed off the dinosaurs? ///

  Of course he knew. A large asteroid strike. /But that was millions of years ago,/ he said feebly.

  /// You see?

  That's exactly what I mean.

  You never think it'll happen to you.

  The K'loing were like that, too.

  You want to know what happened to them? ///

  /No./

  /// They're dead now. ///

  /I said I didn't want to know. Look—don't blame me for my race's failings./

  /// I'm not.

  But your own scientists have pointed out

  that the same thing could happen to humanity.

  And yet nothing is done. ///

  Bandicut squirmed. /Well, I suppose most people think the danger is too remote. I'm not defending that—exactly—but anyway, most of the hazardous asteroids are tracked routinely./

  Charlie was silent a moment, troubled.

  /// But it is going to happen—

  unless you and I stop it. ///

  Bandicut swallowed. /So . . . you say./

  /// Charlie-One said it.

  And you trusted him—more than you trust me. ///

  /I—/

  The quarx chuckled with surprising ease.

  /// That's all right.

  We both know it. ///

  Charlie was silent for a moment, then said softly,

  /// I fear that time is growing short. ///

  Bandicut suddenly shivered with fear. /Then shouldn't we—I mean—what about the translator?/

  /// The translator is aware of the time, ///

  Charlie said reassuringly.

  /// It would find some way to let us know,

  rather than let the Earth be hit

  . . . I think. ///

  /You THINK?/

  /// Well, I know it plans for us

  to take action.

  But it has to let us know what action.

  And unfortunately,

  it strongly prefers to remain unseen. ///

  Bandicut nearly erupted with frustration. /Why doesn't it just tell us in the open, for God's sake?/

  The quarx was silent another moment.

  /// Its creators desired

  that its existence remain concealed

  from most of those it serves.

  I do not know the reason. ///

  Bandicut could only stare helplessly into the silent, winking dataspace. /Oh, well, that's great . . . just great . . ./

  *

  When Bandicut went to the lounge that evening, looking for Julie, he was thoroughly depressed. He glanced around, and saw no sign of her, which was perhaps just as well, considering his mood. Georgia Patwell was playing EineySteiney with her husband and several other friends. He opted to remain by the bar, sipping a beer and resting his aching ankle. It occurred to him that he hadn't checked in with Cole Jackson today, either in person or on the system board, but by then he was into his second beer, and after thinking about it, he just shook his head and said screw it. So what if it cost him a demerit or two? What was the good of being on the disabled list if you had to check with the boss every time you turned around?

  During a break in her game, Georgia came over to the bar to say hi. "I hear you and Julie hit it off pretty well last night," she said, with a gleam in her eye.

  "Uh—yeah, until I turned into a cripple here with my ankle," he said, indicating his fastract cast to try to hide his blush.

  "You'll be out of that soon, won't you? We miss you in ops." Georgia chuckled. "Especially Lonnie."

  "Oh yeah, I'll bet. Lonnie must be dying for me to come back."

  "Well, he hasn't had anyone to abuse lately." Georgia glanced back at the pool table where her husband was waiting. "Anyway, I hear you're getting your rover back, as soon as you're off the hit list."

  "Really? No one's told me about it."

  "Well, I'd check with Cole, if I were you." Georgia picked up her refilled glass. "By the way, Julie asked me to tell you she can't be here tonight—in case you were waiting for her. She said she left you a message, but wasn't sure if you'd get it before you came."

  "Oh, uh—thanks." He blushed again.

  "Don't mention it. She was going to come, but it turned out she had to work overtime to reconstruct some files that went ffft-t-t when the net crashed. She'll probably be here tomorrow, though."

  Bandicut bobbed his head.

  Georgia looked at him slyly. "I think she likes you. Anyway, catch you later. Come join us, if you want." With a wave, Georgia wandered back to the pool table.

  Bandicut continued to bob his head for a moment, then took a swallow of beer and turned back to the bar, moving his left foot carefully.

  /// I had nothing to do with Julie not coming.

  I hope you realize that. ///

  He rolled his eyes and didn't bother to reply.

  /// Why don't you check and see if it's true. ///

  /What, whether Julie's working overtime?/

  /// No—about you getting your rover back. ///

  /Oh./ He shrugged. /Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea./ He took another swallow.

  /// Instead of sitting here making yourself miserable,

  I mean. ///

  /Stop making sense, will you?/ Hoisting his glass, he drained his beer. /All right—you appear to have a one-day reprieve. I hope you're getting ready for it./
/>
  /// Beg pardon? ///

  /One day. And then I will have my crude, tawdry animal fling. Comprende?/

  /// Oh. Uh— ///

  /What?/

  /// Do you really intend to . . . have sex?

  Just like that?

  I thought it took more,

  I don't know, buildup . . . ///

  /Aw, shut up about the facts and just let me keep my fantasies, will you?/ Bandicut got up and walked from the room, leaving the quarx puzzling silently in a back corner of his mind.

  *

  Checking the system board from a comm booth, he found two messages from Cole Jackson, asking him to check in; one message from Julie, saying exactly what Georgia had just told him; and the job assignments for survey section for the next few days. Sure enough, he was back on the roster—for northeast recon, starting the day after tomorrow. That wasn't exactly going to give him much time to heal. But he was out of the mines. And, though it didn't say so, he had presumably been exonerated by the inquiry.

  Studying the assignment more closely, he noted that it covered a fair amount of territory that he had already mapped. You don't suppose, he thought, that all that recon data was kept unanalyzed, and unbacked-up, and evaporated when . . .

  He didn't bother to complete the thought. He just shook his head, and felt the quarx flinch. /Guilty, guilty, guilty,/ he whispered.

  *

  He went to bed early and slept like a rock.

  First thing in the morning, he went to Jackson's office. Cole wasn't in yet, so on an impulse, he sat down at a terminal and tried to pull up his job performance report. The system honked and refused to admit him. He sat for a moment, thinking.

  "Bandicut! Where the hell have you been?" Cole Jackson strode into the office, carrying a large steaming cup of coffee. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet.

  "I got . . . your message," he stammered, then added, "Since Switzer put me on the disabled list, I've been taking it easy, trying to rest."

  "Yeah, okay," Jackson said, walking around to his desk. "There was no need to come in person. You aren't going to get that ankle healed by doing a lot of unnecessary walking, you know."

  Bandicut nodded. "I see you've put me back on the job. What was the outcome of the inquiry—if you don't mind my asking?"

  "I don't mind. Why should I?" Jackson rocked back in his chair, sipping his coffee. "They gave you credit for the field repair, just like I said they should."

  Oh, Bandicut thought.

  Jackson added, "My people know how to do their jobs. I've always said that. So what you did was something neither more nor less than expected."