The Chaos Chronicles
Page 68
"Be patient," Ik counseled, eyes glittering. "Remember the long view."
The long view, he thought sardonically. Even Ik didn't sound all that convinced this time.
*
/What the hell are we supposed to do now?/ he thought, staring in silence at the sea creatures.
/// Well, my assumption would be
that these fish-people are as suspicious of you
as you are of them. ///
/No doubt. So what do we do about it?/ As he spoke to the quarx, he felt a powerful desire to rub his wrists, which was difficult to do with his arms bound to his sides. His translator-stones were itching fiercely, deep in his wrists. Were they working to crack the aliens' language? It seemed an impossible task without meaningful points of reference.
The sea creatures were speaking to each other in soft staccato hisses, their large eyes seeming to revolve like wagon wheels as they peered at Ik and Bandicut—surely an illusion. Four of them remained in the habitat.
Moments later his wrists weren't just itching, but burning. The desire to rub them was almost overpowering. He felt dizzy, his thoughts beginning to blur. If he and Ik could break free, could the two of them overpower their captors? Would they want to? They didn't want to be seen as enemies. They had to let the sea creatures know that.
Ik had been flexing his arms slightly, but gave no indication he intended to do anything. "Ik," Bandicut murmured, "are your stones . . . getting any handle on their language?"
Ik spoke with difficulty. "I sense the voice-stones are working hard. I do not know what they are learning."
"Me neither. My stones are—"
His words were interrupted as two of the sea creatures gripped his arms and lifted him abruptly to his feet. He was startled when they loosened the rope around his arms and chest. "Uhh, that's bet—ukkhh—" He choked as they pulled one of the loops tight again—around his neck. It was tight enough to hurt, and to make the threat clear. He stood stock still, breathing with a soft rasp, as they lifted his arms and began prodding at his body and pulling on his jumpsuit.
/// They're examining you. ///
/Yah. These guys'd make great proctologists./
When they finished patting him down, the leader of the sea creatures stood in front of him, peering into his face. Its gaze seemed almost cross-eyed, as though focused on a point in front of Bandicut. It spoke to its companions—or possibly to Bandicut— in a guttural hiss. Bandicut returned its stare, trying to memorize its face so that he could recognize this individual again. He studied the horizontal lines in the surface of its glistening ebony face, running from the mouth and flat nostrils back toward what he assumed were gill structures on the sides of the neck. If it had ears, he couldn't see them.
It spoke suddenly. "Shwaaa-karee-h-h."
Bandicut felt a sudden shooting pain in his wrists, which the creature was holding in its sharp-fingered hands. For an instant he thought that the creature was causing the pain; then he realized what it was.
/// Whoa—hold tight! ///
He winced at a flash of light on each wrist, and a flaring that was not a pain exactly but more like an explosion waiting to happen—a powerful sneeze—an ejaculation—
*Replication complete.*
And with that report from the translator-stones, a fiery spark blazed up out of each wrist. Bandicut felt a strange sense of relief, and of time being distorted and twisted. The sparks ballooned to the size of soccer balls—and floated, pulsing with light, one diamond and one dark smoky red, through the air toward the sea creature. It seemed to take seconds, but must have happened in an eyeblink. The balls of light rippled around the creature's head, then shrank back to sparks and vanished into each side of its head. The timeflow distortion vanished, too—as the creature squawked in alarm, dropped Bandicut's wrists, and clapped its webbed hands to its head. A moment later, the creature collapsed to the floor, quivering.
Bandicut was stunned. Before he could react, the noose around his neck was yanked tight and he was pulled over backward. "Stop!" he choked. "Sto-o-o-p!" He clawed at the rope. "It's—" His voice cut off with a wheeze. /Charlie—can't the stones do something—?/
/// That took everything they had.
They're still recovering— ///
"Rakhh!" Ik was suddenly towering above him, ropes stretching around his arms. The sea creature behind Ik was struggling to pull the Hraachee'an back.
"Shakka!" cried the leader, rolling into a crouch on the floor. "Shakka!" It had stopped shaking and was blinking its enormous eyes. "You must . . . stop! Let . . . him go!"
Bandicut heard a hiss, which matched his own astonishment. The rope around his neck loosened, and he drew in a ragged breath. He pulled the rope away from his windpipe, and got back to his feet and crouched down in front of the sea creatures' leader. "You—understand now—?" he gasped.
The being rubbed the sides of his head, where the two tiny sparks were just visible, glittering beneath the skin. "Under . . . stand?" he hissed—and Bandicut somehow sensed, through his translators, that the being was indeed a he. "No—understand, no." He rose, together with Bandicut, each of them peering into the other's eyes. "But—your words, yes. I—what has happened? How do I—?"
Bandicut swallowed. "I—it's hard to explain, I—didn't do it myself, really." And he closed his eyes, thinking. /What did happen? Did the stones reproduce? I still have my own, right?/ He realized he was rubbing his wrists, and now he looked down and saw that yes, indeed, he still had his own stones.
/// They reproduced, yes.
It took quite a bit out of them, too. ///
"What . . . have you done to me?" the sea creature repeated, more forcefully. "Who are you?"
Bandicut struggled to answer. How could he possibly explain the translator-stones? How could he explain that a mechanism from beyond the stars was enabling each of them to hear the other's words in his own language?
"John Bandicut!" Ik cried, interrupting. "Are you all right?" Ik was looking from Bandicut to the sea creature in astonishment.
"Yah," Bandicut said. "And yes—you just saw my stones dividing." He took a breath and shook his head, then spoke to the sea being. "I am . . . we have . . . come here from another world." He gestured helplessly toward the ceiling of the habitat. "You can hear my words . . . because of the translator-stones." He touched the spots on his wrists where his stones glimmered, then gestured to the being. "I hope they have not hurt you."
The creature rubbed the side of his head with hands that looked as if they were made of black rubber. "I do not . . . know. I do not think so." Pausing, he looked at his fingertips, as if he might have some trace to inspect. Suddenly his gaze turned inward, as if he were listening to something inside his head. Two of his companions started to move toward him; he raised a hand to stop them. His eyes focused again on Bandicut. "Stones of thought . . . and word. They are speaking to me! What are they going to do to me? What is their purpose?"
Bandicut swallowed, remembering clearly how he had felt when the quarx had first appeared, projecting its words silently into his mind. It had been a bewildering and terrifying experience. "Their purpose," he said, "is to assist you. Not to harm you; they will not harm you. They are not . . . well, I do not know what they are, exactly. But they can help you to communicate—and perhaps assist you in other ways." Bandicut glanced around at the other sea creatures, who were pacing suspiciously. "May I ask—your name? What I should call you?"
The being hesitated, then answered. "I am called L'Kell. And by what are you called?"
"I am John Bandicut. I am a Human." Bandicut gestured to his companion. "My friend is Ik. He is a Hraachee'an. Our other friends, whom you took away, are Antares and Li-Jared." He hoped for some reaction to the mention of the others, but L'Kell's expression remained unchanged. Drawing a breath, Bandicut continued. "We came from beyond your sky. Do you know the sky? Above the water?" He gestured upward, wondering if these people knew anything at all about the world above the ocean.
"Not the land—no!" Bandicut said hastily, wondering what bad association he had just triggered. "From above the sky." He gestured expansively upward. "From beyond your sun."
L'Kell was silent a moment, absorbing Bandicut's words. "From beyond—our sun—?"
"It is hard . . ." Bandicut thought, struggling to think how to explain. "May I ask—do you live just beneath the sea? Do you know the air?"
"Why are you here?" L'Kell demanded, ignoring the question.
He blinked. Why am I here? /Why am I here?/
/// The question has occurred to me, also. ///
Bandicut shook his head. /Does any of us have even the slightest idea? Ik?/ He answered the creature finally, "I'm not sure. But it is not . . . our idea. We do not know why we are here." He cleared his throat. "However, if there is something we can do . . . to help?" He glanced at Ik and shrugged.
L'Kell's eyes shifted to Ik, then to his fellow sea creatures. Then back to Bandicut. "I tell you this—you will not be permitted to endanger us. However, if you are innocent visitors, we may speak. I have questions I would like to ask you. But our leader will have many questions."
Bandicut breathed a little easier. "We can hardly ask any more. We certainly do not wish to endanger or harm anyone." He spoke slowly, pausing to judge whether his words were understood. The translator-stones were doing well, but he feared misinterpretation. L'Kell's gill openings seemed to pulse, and the creature stroked at the spot where one of the stones had lodged. "I know that our arrival must have been very confusing," Bandicut added. "And the stones', as well. The stones . . . perhaps it will help you to understand—"
"Yes?" hissed the creature.
"—if I say that they are not of me, not part of my own body—and yet they work with me, and I am—" he hesitated "—grateful for their help."
L'Kell stroked again at the stones on either side of his head. It was a gesture that was familiar to Bandicut; he had seen Ik do much the same thing, on many occasions. But it was startling to see the gesture from so different a creature.
"May I ask," Ik interjected, with a glance at Bandicut that indicated that he understood at least some of the conversation, "if it is not too impolite—by what name may we call your people?"
L'Kell was startled by Ik's sudden entry into the conversation. He seemed to understand Ik's words, with perhaps a bit more difficulty. But then, they were Bandicut's stones, and the stones knew Ik's speech. L'Kell seemed to contemplate the question, then said, "We are the—" graaa "—people of the sea, the seafolk." And he pronounced a word that sounded through the translator-stone like ". . . Neri."
Bandicut blinked, aware that his stones had searched through his own memories for some associative word. "Neri," he echoed. Nereids? From mythology?
"And the Neri," continued L'Kell, "will want to know why you are here, how you have come here, and what you want of us."
"Yes," Bandicut murmured in reply. He wondered if L'Kell had even a glimmering of an understanding of his statement that they had come from another world—through space, and not just space, but from beyond the stars. Did the Neri even know what stars were? It would be pointless to try to explain their flight here from Shipworld, an enormous artificial world orbiting outside the galaxy. He scarcely believed it himself.
"Hrahh," said Ik, rubbing his own voice-stones in his temples. "For now, we want only to live . . . and to learn about you. Perhaps when we know each other, we will understand why we are here—and what it is that you need from us."
L'Kell stared at the Hraachee'an for several long moments. He seemed to have understood the words—and they must have sounded as if they had come from a madman, or a visiting god: "—what it is that you need from us."
Bandicut was taken aback, too. Why had Ik said that—as if he were expecting these people to need something from them. Shipworld had needed something from them, without ever quite getting around to explaining what or why. They had had to discover it for themselves, and risk their lives for it. Was that going to happen again here? Did Ik know something he hadn't mentioned?
"How would you know," L'Kell said carefully, "what my people need? And why would we need it from you?"
"I don't," said Ik. "I don't know. But there must be need." He glanced at Bandicut. "Why else would Shipworld have sent us here? It must have been a tremendous expenditure of resources."
Bandicut could not think of an answer.
All the other Neri were watching them closely. They clearly had no idea what was being said. L'Kell turned and spoke for a moment with his fellows. Their conversation was raspy, noisy, and seemingly heated. Bandicut couldn't understand a word. Apparently the stones translated only when the Neri was actually addressing Bandicut or Ik—perhaps as a courtesy to their new host. When L'Kell looked back at Ik and Bandicut, his black, rubbery hands were clenching and unclenching, his great dark eyes inscrutable. "They are right. We must take you to Askelanda. Are you swimmers? Water breathers?"
Bandicut gulped. "Uh—no." The thought of plunging into that watery darkness made him shudder, not from fear of drowning so much as claustrophobia.
L'Kell gestured to one of the Neri. The Neri made a clicking sound, touched the exit spot on the floor, and when the circle turned shadowy, slipped down the well and away into the water.
"We will provide transport," L'Kell said.
"Thank you," said Ik.
L'Kell's eyes gleamed, as though he were trying to judge the tone of Ik's polite remark.
A moment later, Bandicut became aware of a shadow moving under the habitat. He felt a bump, and heard a soft whoosh. The exit darkened again, and a Neri climbed up, the same one who had just disappeared.
L'Kell rasped out a command, and Bandicut was nudged toward the opening. He peered down into the well and saw an air space, in gloom but not total darkness. They were to be taken away as Antares and Li-Jared had been. "Before we go," he said to L'Kell, "can you please tell me—are our friends safe? Where are they?"
"They are safe," said L'Kell. "Board now."
Despite a harder nudge from behind, Bandicut resisted. "What about our vessel? It contains things we may need." Not least of which were his robots.
"It will be kept safe, too," L'Kell said. This time, the Neri behind Bandicut poked him sharply enough to hurt, and with a glance at Ik he climbed over the edge of the opening and dropped, feet first, into darkness.
*
It was cool but dry in the chamber. Bandicut felt a rounded floor beneath him, and rounded walls beside him. After a moment, his eyes adapted well enough to discern the visual contours of the little chamber. It was indeed a small submarine. He crowded to one side to make room for Ik. "Hrrm," his friend muttered, landing beside him and folding himself with some difficulty into the space.
A few seconds later, a pair of black feet and legs appeared between them, practically invisible in the gloom. One of the Neri dropped into the chamber. It was L'Kell. As Bandicut tried to make room, he banged his elbow against the wall. It echoed with a metallic bong.
"Metals technology," he murmured to Ik.
"Yes," answered Ik. "A submarine."
"What did you think?" asked L'Kell, crouching between them.
"We didn't know what to think. We really know nothing at all of your world," Bandicut said. He glanced up as another Neri dropped down and crouched in the back of the sub.
"Perhaps," said L'Kell, "we can show you a bit on our way in." L'Kell stretched out in a prone position, his head toward the nose of the submarine. Bandicut and Ik followed his example, which was not easy in the confines of the little vessel. There was barely room for three to lie side-by-side, Ik on the far left, and Bandicut in the middle, with the second Neri remaining crouched in back. The sub's nose was a c
lear window, through which they peered directly out into the sea. What light there was in the cabin came mostly from a small array of instruments and controls just below the window.
"May I ask," Ik said, peering past Bandicut, "where do you make such things as this submarine? Surely you do not make them down here under the sea, do you?"
That drew an indecipherable look from L'Kell.
Ik continued, "Do you have your factories above—on the surface of the water? Or on land?"
Bandicut sensed a reaction of displeasure from the Neri. "That," said L'Kell, touching the curved control panel, "is something I will not discuss now." A series of new lights came on near his fingers, as he peered forward out the window, preparing to pilot the sub. In the close quarters here, the air seemed staler and full of a mixture of metallic tang and organic, almost fishy smell—perhaps the smell of the Neri. L'Kell caught Bandicut's eye for a tense moment, as though to say, Do not ask too much, yet. We are not certain we are not enemies.
Bandicut nodded slightly and looked out the window. The underside of the habitat still loomed over them. Some light glowed into the water from the habitat, some from a headlight on the sub, below his view. Bandicut watched several shadowy swimmers move in and out of the region of illumination.
L'Kell called back toward the hatch. He was answered by a soft jolt and a slight change in air pressure. The hatch was closed. L'Kell touched his panel, and with a soft vibration, the sub stirred into motion—first sinking away from the habitat, then driving forward. /Motors,/ Bandicut thought. /Quiet motors. Magnetohydrodynamic, maybe? No moving parts? How do you suppose they power them?/
For a moment there was silence in his head. Then:
/// I don't know.
But I do know that this whole damn place
gives me the willies. ///
/Huh? You're the one who's supposed to be used to all these surprises./
/// Your other Charlies maybe.
Not me, guy. ///
/But you said—/ Bandicut swallowed, trying to remember what the quarx had said, back on Shipworld, not long after coming to life following the death of Charlie-Three. /You said you thought it was your destiny, or something like that, to go where the star-spanner wanted you to go. Didn't you say that?/