The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  In answer, the movement of Neri around him changed, and there was a folding-in of ranks, and a rising murmur, as virtually all of the Neri present declared their willingness.

  "You must be cautious," Askelanda said, "of the poison that killed Thorek and the others and almost killed Lako. That may be what has harmed many at the site already." He wheeled and addressed Ik. "If I may ask our visitors—"

  "Yes, Askelanda," Ik replied.

  "Do you have knowledge of these poisons, knowledge that could help our people to avoid them?"

  Ik hesitated. "I have some little knowledge. Unfortunately, the poison is invisible—to me, as much as to you. Do you have any instruments that can detect radiation?" He sensed, even as he said it, that his voice-stones were having difficulty translating radiation into something that the Neri could understand. They simply had no words for the concept. "Without the proper equipment, I don't know if I can help you avoid it." He closed his eyes for a moment; the pacing Neri were making him dizzy.

  Askelanda paused in front of him. "I know of no such instruments." He seemed almost to sigh. "Perhaps the obliq might know of such things."

  Ik looked at Li-Jared. "Could you work with Kailan on that question?"

  The Karellian looked simultaneously dubious and relieved. "I could try," he murmured.

  "And you?" the Neri leader asked Ik.

  "I—hrrm, could go with your brave people to help those in trouble. If you have a vessel that can carry me."

  Askelanda bowed and turned in a sweeping turn. "Shall we grant space in our vessel to our courageous guest? To Ik?"

  The response was a rumble of approval.

  Ik wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry.

  *

  "Take care, my friend."

  "You also, Li-Jared. Give my regards to Antares and Kailan." Ik sighed through his ears and stepped out onto the deck of the little sub. He turned back. "And keep your eyes closed on your ride back to Kailan's!"

  Bwong. "Don't think you're the only one to go fearlessly into the deep, Hraachee'an! I'll spot more fish than you do." With a wave that hid his nervousness, Li-Jared strode away.

  Ik dropped down into the sub. He was greeted by his pilot, a Neri named S'Cali, and took up the passenger position on the left. They were joined by a second Neri, Delent'l.

  Soon they were gliding through the depths lit green and yellow by the sub's lights. From time to time, in the edge of the illumination, he glimpsed a formation of Neri swimmers flanking the sub in its course. Remarkably, it seemed that they were capable of moving as fast under their own power as by submarine. They were truly well engineered for the sea. And that was what they were, he had gathered from S'Cali—creatures engineered for the sea by a now-vanished race of air-breathers.

  The habitats of the city dwindled behind, and he settled in for a cruising time, accompanied by the hissing and creaking sounds of ascent—not straight up, but on a long course following the bottom slope toward shallower water. The sub was depressurizing as they climbed through the depths, and he made his own sinus adjustments and prayed silently that the stones and the normalization could protect him from the decompression as they had from the effects of depth.

  In time, he was startled to see one important change outside: natural illumination, not from the headlights but surrounding the sub. It was sunlight from overhead, diffused through the depths. Thank the moon and stars, he thought. Whatever the risks of this trip, at least he was going to see sunlight. Real sunlight—not that they would be going all the way to the surface. Their destination was a wrecked ship, sunk in comparatively shallow water—shallow enough that the air-breathing landers could reach it.

  "We are drawing close," S'Cali said, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you have a special way of preparing for battle?"

  Ik rubbed his chest in silence.

  "Now would be a good time," said Delent'l, crouching near the rear of the sub and the lockout chamber. "I'll check your breathing gear for you."

  Breathing gear. It had been fitted so hurriedly back at the habitat—adapted from breathing aids used by juvenile Neri with immature gills—that he had thought little about it. So much for taking the long view, he thought.

  "I have never thought of myself as a warrior," Ik said finally, not knowing what to say except the truth. "If I have any strengths to offer you, it will be in sharing my knowledge. If I see something in your salvage site that I think may be a source of your sickness, I will tell you at once."

  The Neri pilot made a muted sound of acknowledgment; the other said nothing at all. Never, Ik thought, had he made such an ineffectual-sounding offer of help. But he could think of nothing to add.

  S'Cali flicked off the headlight.

  A twilight gloom closed in around them. The illumination from the surface was substantial, but there was little or no color. The bottom landscape was becoming visible in shades of grey.

  Silhouetted like a charcoal sculpture against the misty blue-green ceiling ahead was the jagged, broken shape of an enormous sunken vessel. The salvage site. He could not tell what kind of a ship it was, perhaps a very large submarine. As they drew closer he glimpsed, swarming around the wreck like insects, a number of small, black objects.

  They did not seem to move like Neri.

  He had scarcely even begun to wonder if the landers had detected the approaching sub, when it became obvious that they had. They were already turning and gathering to meet the Neri.

  Chapter 15

  Repair and Rescue

  THE ROBOTS WERE trying to report to Bandicut when a conflicting transmission came through from another source. L'Kell rasped something in reply, drowning out the robots' efforts altogether.

  Bandicut waited until he thought the channel was clear, then called, "Say again, Nappy! You have a link with what subsection?"

  The robot's voice was a partially garbled hiss. "Operational records, Cap . . . block in which malfunctions . . . think we know why . . ." At that point, Napoleon's voice became inaudible again.

  "We have something new coming in—sorry," said L'Kell, and called for everyone to be silent.

  This time, the incoming message was clearer, though still scratchy. ". . . under attack. Salvage party trapped inside, many sick with poisoning . . . swimmers have gone to their aid . . . one sub, one of the visitors . . . may not be enough."

  "Do they need our help?" L'Kell called back, with a sharp glance at Bandicut. Most of the available subs were either here on this expedition or tied up on jobs such as repairing damage to the Neri city.

  L'Kell's glance lingered, and Bandicut suddenly realized what the Neri was thinking. He wasn't asking whether more subs were needed; he was asking whether the stricken Neri workers needed John Bandicut to come heal them. /Oh, no. I think we're about to be pulled out of here . . ./

  /// Whatever we need to do, ///

  Char said calmly.

  Perhaps Char didn't understand how hard that would be for him. After committing so much energy and will power to this mission, he wanted to see it through to the end.

  /// You don't want to leave Napoleon and Copernicus. ///

  A statement, not a question.

  /No./ He took a breath and said to L'Kell, "I'll help, wherever you need me."

  The Neri grunted in satisfaction and muttered something back into the comm. Then he gestured outside. "They haven't asked for us yet. So let's find out what your friends were trying to say."

  Bandicut called, "Can you try giving me that update again, Nappy?"

  After a certain amount of static, Copernicus reported, "Cap'n, the good news is that most of the internal circuitry appears to be in working order. However, the programming is not. Napoleon is trying to diagnose a faulty code module that appears to be recycling through the main processor."

  "That's fast work."

  "Well, Captain, the central program apparently attempted to compensate for an operational self-repair problem—a mechanical breakdown, perhaps caused by seismic impact, combin
ed with an unexpected materials shortage. The compensation failed, and errors became compounded. Once self-repair failed, there was no way to recover without outside intervention. But there was no such intervention."

  "And now?"

  "We have hopes for a restart."

  Bandicut thought of the healing of the Neri and decided that nothing was impossible. "Will you need help from us?"

  "Unknown at this time."

  "Any idea how long it might take?"

  "Unknown, Cap'n."

  Bandicut asked L'Kell, "Did you follow that?"

  "Some." The Neri adjusted an outside light, which was shining along the flank of the robots' sub. All they could see was the blunt form of the sub with its nose stuck under the overhang, its forward probes buried in a juncture membrane. The robots, presumably, were motionless inside the sub; everything they were doing was invisible, electronic signals sent into the heart of the factory. "You probably should ask," said L'Kell, "if they could carry on without you, if they have to."

  Bandicut stared into the green and yellow and grey world carved out by the headlight. "Better find out if Nabeck and the robots can understand each other, first."

  "Yah," said the Neri.

  *

  The next communication from the city indicated that matters were worsening at the salvage site, but stopped short of asking them to pull up and go. L'Kell looked troubled, though. The darkness around them was shivering with occasional faint flashes of light from the direction of the abyssal valley, like heat lightning before a storm. It made Bandicut nervous.

  He keyed the comm. "Copernicus—"

  "Yes, Cap'n." The robot's voice sounded distracted. Napoleon remained occupied in the subsystems, with Copernicus trying to understand what was happening. Bandicut imagined Copernicus standing by with a tool chest, reaching for the appropriate wrenches as Napoleon asked for them.

  "I need you to make a judgment. L'Kell and I may be needed elsewhere. But this repair is every bit as important as what we might be doing. Do you think you can carry on without me?"

  "Cap'n—it is difficult to know."

  "Do you mean because of you and Nabeck?"

  "Well, we can communicate with Nabeck—" Meaning, with effort, they could make themselves understood. "So that's—" Copernicus was interrupted by a piercing tone in the comm.

  "Coppy? What was that?"

  There were some confused electronic noises. Finally Copernicus said, "That was the factory control, trying to broadcast a message."

  "Trying to broadcast? Then it really is awakening?"

  "Hold a moment. Napoleon thinks it was just a subsystem reflex. Possibly in response to our activities—but we haven't been able to decipher it yet."

  "Oh." Bandicut let out a slow breath. "Does that change your assessment?"

  "Negative," said Copernicus. "Captain, we suspect that the factory may indeed have initiative, but not necessarily consciousness. We'll just have to wait and see."

  Bandicut blinked in surprise. "If it does turn out to be conscious, do you think you can handle the situation?"

  Copernicus did not speak for a moment. Then he said, "Remember the shadow-people." The noncorporeal, fractal-dimensional beings who were in charge of systems maintenance back on Shipworld: Copernicus had spent considerable time in communication with them, and had done just fine without Bandicut's help.

  "Ah. Yes. Of course." Bandicut looked at L'Kell. "I think . . . if we have to go, the robots can manage by themselves."

  "Are you certain?" said L'Kell.

  Bandicut shivered. Hell, no, he wasn't certain.

  /// If you're not, then shouldn't you— ///

  "Yeah," Bandicut said to L'Kell.

  /// Never mind. ///

  "In that case," said L'Kell, "I think our friends above could use some help right now."

  Bandicut looked out into the mist overlooking the alien abyss and felt one mission slipping from his hands as another was thrust into them. He turned back to the comm. "Coppy, you and Napoleon are in charge. We'll be back when we can." He swallowed hard, glanced at L'Kell, and jerked his thumb upward.

  L'Kell squeezed the controller. The engines hummed, and the sub backed away from the overhang, then lifted from the abyssal ledge and drove upward into the perpetual night.

  *

  The Neri swimmers dropped out of formation with Ik's sub and dispersed for cover along the sloping seafloor. They would continue making their way toward the looming, sunken ship. They were far swifter than the lander swimmers coming to meet them, and better able to conceal themselves. The landers were close enough now that Ik could see that they were bipedal, and encumbered by bulky diving equipment.

  A cloud of bubbles approached out of the haze, and from it emerged several landers riding a mechanized, powered sled. "Rakh," Ik muttered, watching the vehicle sweep in an arc ahead and a little to their left. Three landers dropped away from the sled, swimming, air bubbles streaming up from their heads. He couldn't see them too clearly, but they all seemed to be holding something in their hands. Weapons. They were fanning out, looking for the Neri swimmers—but for now, keeping clear of the sub. Maybe they thought the sub had bigger weapons.

  S'Cali steered in a skirting detour to approach the salvage site from the right. Above the shadowy form of the sunken ship, Ik saw several white flashes of movement. Not the landers. More like a school of fish. He pointed. "Are those—?"

  "Pikarta," S'Cali said.

  "The deathfish?"

  "Yes. They could be dangerous to both sides. If there's fighting, and the scent of blood gets into the water—"

  Ik gave a grunt. He had lost sight of the Neri swimmers now, as well as most of the landers. "Do we need to help your people out here?"

  "They can take care of themselves," S'Cali answered. "My biggest concern is the wounded inside the wreck. Maybe you'd better go back and put on your gear."

  Ik clicked his mouth shut at the thought of swimming out there—among the landers and the pikarta—with diving equipment designed for juvenile Neri. "To be honest, S'Cali, if I am to be of use to you, the longer I stay inside this vessel the better. Outside, I may quickly become a liability."

  S'Cali assessed him with large, dark eyes. "Perhaps so. But be ready. If they attack us with bursters—"

  "Understood," Ik said. "But since we're concerned with the injured, let's see if we can stay clear of the fighting long enough for me to help you discover the cause of the sickness— yes? Radiation cannot be seen—but perhaps this ship was powered by some kind of reactor. We should be alert for a large, heavy structure or compartment somewhere inside—probably with thick metal shielding around it, maybe cracked or breached."

  "There could be many places fitting that description," Delent'l called from the back of the cabin. "Our people have been opening compartments all through the wreck, combing for useful equipment. Any one of those could have been what you said."

  "But not just a compartment," Ik interrupted. "It might be in a compartment, but it would be large, and inside the shielding would be tightly packed machinery—coils, wires, quantum crystal arrays—"

  "I do not understand those last words," S'Cali said, turning his eyes from the viewport for an instant. "What exactly do you mean?"

  Ik struggled to find a way to make it clear. "I can't say exactly, but there must be some kind of—" he flexed his fingers in frustration "—reactor—" he knew no other word "—that's leaking radiation into the water. And—by the stars, why didn't I think of this before? There might be a blue glow around it, or inside it." Secondary radiation, in the form of visible light.

  "We'll ask," said S'Cali. He was steering the sub directly toward the wreck again. It was a shadowy shambles in front of them now, with what looked like large, dark openings in the hull.

  "It would be very dangerous to approach. Your people must stay away from it, if they find such a thing." Ik could have kicked himself for not thinking of it before. Secondary light emission might or might not be pres
ent, but if it was, it would be one sure tip-off of radioactivity.

  "We'll try to get inside, up ahead here," S'Cali said. "At some point, though, we'll have to leave the sub and swim."

  "Okay, but the longer we can stay in the sub, the better," Ik said. "If there's radiation contaminating the water, the sub's hull will give us protection."

  S'Cali grunted. They were very close to the wreck now. Ik still couldn't tell what kind of vessel the thing was, sunk and broken on the bottom. It was roughly cylindrical, and enclosed all around; it could as easily have been a spaceship as a submarine. Ik rubbed his chest. A spaceship? Now, that could raise interesting possibilities. "Where did this ship come from?" he asked suddenly.

  "We don't know," said S'Cali. "It is very old. And very different from our ancestors' other ships." He pointed. "Look there." A pair of Neri swimmers had emerged from the wreck and were darting along the bottom to meet the sub. They stopped halfway and gestured urgently toward the ship.

  "What's happening over there?" Ik asked suddenly, peering at the shadowy breach in the wreck's hull. He realized the answer even as he asked. A group of Neri were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with lander divers. That was what the two swimmers were gesturing about. "Can we help them?" he asked. "Do you have weapons on this sub?"

  "I thought you were no fighter."

  "Rakh. When I must, I can be of service."

  "I am glad," said S'Cali. "No, we do not. But that does not mean we're helpless." He squeezed the controller, and the sub accelerated. He flicked the headlight back on, as they bore down on the fight. Three Neri and five or six landers rotated in the water, pausing momentarily in their battle. In the instant the landers were frozen, the Neri swimmers darted out of the way. This was Ik's first good look at the landers. They were encased in suits and face coverings, but appeared to be somewhat smaller than the Neri. They wore artificial fins and air-breathing gear. Of their faces, he could see nothing through the reflective glass.

  Was S'Cali intending to ram them? If so, the hull of the wreck was going to make a damned hard stop. At that moment, S'Cali pulled the control back, reversing thrust. The sub braked hard, and the landers in front of it tumbled wildly, caught in the powerful jetwash. The sub slowed to a halt, and hung directly in front of the hull breach.