The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  /// You really think of them as friends, don't you?

  As living, thinking beings. ///

  /Well, yeah. I mean, don't you think of the translator that way?/ Bandicut wasn't sure when he had stopped thinking of the robots as almost sentient, and started regarding them as members of the human community.

  /// My thoughts of the stones

  and what memories I have of the translator are . . .

  I don't know what you would call it.

  Not masters, nor servants exactly,

  but not friends, either.

  Do you regard Ik and Li-Jared and Antares

  as human? ///

  /I guess so./ Bandicut shrugged inwardly. It wasn't that he'd lost sight of their species differences. But somewhere along the line he had come to think of humanness, or maybe personhood, as being determined by more than a particular DNA coding. /You too,/ he added.

  The quarx didn't say anything, but he felt a flicker of acceptance, belonging.

  All this talk, though, got Bandicut's thoughts going. /Tell me something,/ he said a little later. /What about Charlie-Four? Do you think he ended his own life so he could get out of the way and make room for you? Because he knew he wasn't the right quarx for the job, or the time?/

  /// It's possible, I suppose.

  What makes you ask? ///

  /I dunno. It's been bothering me—the way he seemed to just give up like that./

  /// You're thinking maybe it was

  self-sacrifice? ///

  /That's what I'm asking you. I mean, it doesn't square with the Charlie-Four I knew. And yet—/

  /// Well, I do have residual memories

  that make me suspect, anyway,

  that he was not wholly forthcoming with you

  about his feelings. ///

  /Meaning what?/

  /// Meaning I think he tried

  to be more of a sonofabitch

  than he really was. ///

  Bandicut rolled that around in his mind. /But why?/

  Charlene hesitated.

  /// I don't know. ///

  /Well, if you don't know . . ./ Bandicut sighed and looked back out the window.

  As they ascended along the slope of the seafloor, they were encountering a greater number and variety of animals, from slow-moving fish to large jellies to spider-legged things half a meter wide that sprang in long, slow-motion leaps through the headlight-smudged darkness. He kept wondering if they would ever see daylight in the water, and then reminded himself that they were still far too deep . . . and then, to his surprise, he blinked and saw what looked like the palest haze of moonlight filtering through the water. "L'Kell, is that sunlight I see?"

  The Neri flicked off the one remaining headlight, to let Bandicut see the difference; there was a faint, colorless glow in the water. Then L'Kell pointed off to the port side. There, some distance off and below them, was a cluster of yellow-green lights.

  "The city? We passed it?"

  "At a distance. I think you were asleep."

  "I was?" He had not been aware of dozing off at all.

  "We still have some distance to go to the salvage area. The relief force hasn't been heard from since they reported sighting a large number of landers."

  Bandicut's stomach knotted, as he thought of Ik. /Mokin' fokin' A./ He had come to depend so much on Ik, he could not imagine what life would be like if anything happened to the Hraachee'an.

  /// It's still perfectly possible that

  they're okay, isn't it? ///

  /Yeah, sure,/ he said. /We don't know a thing, so I should quit worrying until I know more. Right?/

  /// I'd say so. Will you? ///

  /Not a chance,/ Bandicut said, and rubbed his eyes as he peered ahead into the mists.

  *

  Ik couldn't last much longer. Towed by the Neri, he was floating down an endless corridor. His chest was searing now, his breath going in and out in frantic little movements.

  *Remain as still as possible. We are modifying the forcefield.*

  He tried to obey, but it was not easy to keep his body still, and straight, and streamlined while being pulled by a rope through the water! He prayed that the Neri knew where they were going; if he could just hold on . . .

  *We are attempting to speed the exchange of gases through the forcefield, out of the water. We are also attempting to dampen your metabolic rate. You may feel faint . . .*

  Faint. The darkness actually seemed to be lightening around him, as everything went grey and grainy, out of focus. He no longer felt the burning; he felt only the numbness.

  And then even that slipped away, as he entered a kind of shadow world of awareness . . .

  Movement of light and dark . . . without bodily sensation . . .

  When he blinked back to a fuller consciousness, there was still motion. Something was ahead, something blurry. Shimmery. Like a mirror, but only a flicker of light on it. What would be shimmery?

  Air?

  Some part of his mind wanted to launch into a furious swim. He moved his hands ineffectually, but his body could no longer respond. He could only hang limply behind the Neri, mind in a fog, as water flowed past his body.

  And then the shimmer was in his face, and around him, and he broke through a boundary layer into air, blessed air. He could feel his head and shoulders out of the water, but the helmet was still suffocating him. He gasped, trying weakly to reach—then felt other hands on the helmet, releasing straps and ties, and finally lifting it from his head.

  Ik's windpipe rasped as air flamed into his chest— wonderful, life-giving, air. It felt like fire, but he didn't care. At least a dozen long, ragged breaths went in and out before he even noticed how stale and metallic it tasted. It must have been trapped here for a long time. He slowly became aware of what was holding him up out of the water—four or five Neri kicking in the water, supporting his weight. He could only wheeze in gratitude.

  *Readjusting metabolic parameters.*

  His strength returned slowly. More and more Neri appeared around him. Additional globe-lights came up out of the water, and he could finally see the faces of S'Cali and Delent'l on either side of him. They were in a sizable chamber, apparently an empty hold, with an airspace allowing four or five meters of headroom between the water line and the ceiling. Over his head he could see a number of struts and fittings on the walls and ceiling. The sounds of breathing, and lapping water, echoed around him. His mouth was full of the tastes of salt, metal, and old seaweed.

  "Can you breathe all right now?" called S'Cali, his voice filling the chamber.

  "Hrrr—yes," Ik answered—then choked, gurgling, on a mouthful of water. "I'm—okay—" he gasped.

  S'Cali asked Ik if he thought he could climb up onto a ledge that ran along one side of the chamber. Ik looked where S'Cali was pointing. The ledge was tilted a bit toward the water, but it was fairly broad, and Ik thought he might be able to hang on, if he could get up there.

  The Neri, in concert, moved him sideways through the water. Once he had an arm up on the ledge, he felt a little better. More lights had been brought into the chamber, and he could see other Neri moving beneath the surface of the water. "Can you—urrr, push me up?"

  The answer was a powerful push under his feet, vaulting him up onto the ledge. He turned awkwardly, with his gear still draped around him, and sat facing the water. The ledge was metal, and it was cold and slippery. He could feel the stones increasing the insulating forcefield layer beneath him, but he started to slide at once on the cushion of air. /Turn it off!/

  His cry was unnecessary. The stones killed the field instantly. Better to be cold than back in the water. He shivered—then thought of his rope, still cinched around his waist, with the two ends trailing in the water. He pulled the ends up and stretched them out behind him, on the ledge. /Try it again, just for a second./

  He felt a tingle, and began to slip. But the rope held fast, keeping him in place. He drew a long breath. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, to the
Neri gathered around him, heads out of the water.

  Delent'l climbed up beside him and began removing his breathing gear. "We must try to repair this."

  "Thank you for coming," said one of the other Neri.

  Ik gazed at the speaker for a moment, absorbing the meaning of his words. "I hope I am not more burden than help." He gestured awkwardly. "I don't know what I can do for you here."

  There was some muttering, before one of the Neri said, "We have many who are sick. If we bring them here, will you heal them?"

  Ik felt a sudden rush of something like claustrophobia, only worse. Heal them. "I . . . will try. John Bandicut—it was my friend John Bandicut who healed. And his companion, the quarx." Ik struggled to find words of apology. "I have never, hrrm, attempted this . . . healing."

  "But your—" rasp. The Neri pointed to his head.

  Ik touched his temples. His stones. Doubts crowded into his mind, and in anguish he pushed them away. "Yes. I will try. It is all I can do."

  "We will bring the first of the wounded," answered the Neri, and then he and several of the others sank out of sight.

  Ik glanced at S'Cali and Delent'l. "What about the landers? Will they try to reach us here? Are they still fighting?"

  S'Cali answered, "They've taken the hold where we left the sub. But we think they will come no further. The passages are narrow, and we can defend them. For now, however, we're trapped here."

  Ik rolled his tongue in thought, wondering what the landers would do with S'Cali's abandoned sub. But that reminded him of something else. "What about the lander your people captured? Are you holding it somewhere inside?"

  "It's in another chamber," said one of the other Neri.

  "With air?"

  Discussion among the Neri, too quick to follow. "No. It is wearing breathing devices."

  Ik blinked his eyes in alarm. "There might be a limit to how long its devices can keep it alive underwater. Can you bring it here? Or at least to an air chamber?"

  S'Cali seemed surprised. "We had not decided what to do. You think it is important to keep it alive?"

  "Rakhh—yes!" Ik exclaimed. "Have you never made contact— or tried to communicate with the landers?"

  More Neri discussion, this time with sharp, spiky edges to it. Finally S'Cali said, "We have never spoken with them. We do not know how."

  Ik pressed his fingertips to his temples. Never spoken . . . Moon and stars! This was just like the situation he had tried—and failed—to correct on the world of the Kuy. How could he hope to do any better here? But you didn't have Li-Jared and Bandicut and Antares with you then, he reminded himself wearily.

  /Do you think,/ he murmured to his stones, /we might be able to help them speak to the landers?/ In reply he felt a faint tickle.

  Several Neri light-globes were moving closer in the water just below. They broke the surface. Two Neri were supporting a third; several more gathered to help boost the injured one up beside Ik. Ik turned himself carefully to face the Neri. "This is—?"

  "Rencandro," murmured someone.

  Ik touched the Neri's arm. It felt burning, freezing; he couldn't tell which. "Was Rencandro swimming in the warm current?" Ik asked in a throaty voice, knowing the answer already. /Can we do anything for him?/

  *We will try. Call for Bandicut if you can.*

  /I would if I could,/ Ik sighed. He had never before heard the stones sound hesitant, wistful, afraid. It made him shiver. /Shall we?/ he murmured. With a great effort, he sank into a meditative trance, his hand on Rencandro's arm. Around him, the echoes of lapping water and Neri voices faded to a whisper . . .

  *

  Bandicut jerked his head up at the sound of L'Kell's voice. He must have dozed off again. It seemed impossible; but then, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good, sound sleep. "We are nearly there," the Neri said quietly. He was eating some berries and dried fish, and he offered some to Bandicut. The berries had a sharp, tart flavor; the fish was meaty and bland, with just a hint of salt.

  As he finished eating, L'Kell began guiding the sub closer to the bottom, practically skimming the rock formations—probably to remain hidden as long as possible.

  "What's the plan?" Bandicut asked. He thought, with a pang, that instead of sleeping, he should have been helping L'Kell prepare.

  "We should be relatively secure, as long as we are in the sub, and don't come too close to any of their—" rasp "—bursters. Explosives."

  Bandicut nodded. Bursters. He hadn't given much thought to the tactics of battle. Military tactics were not his specialty.

  "We must find a way to contact our people. They may be sealed up inside the wreck, if the landers are still outside."

  "Okay," Bandicut said. "How do we do that?"

  "I'm not certain. Actually, all of them may not be inside. Some of them might be waiting outside. Or they might all be in battle—" He paused suddenly and peered intently out the window.

  Bandicut squinted. "What is it?"

  L'Kell pointed. There was enough sunlight in the water now to identify landscape features through the blue twilight. "There's the wreck. Now, I need you to keep a sharp watch. Tell me if you see anything moving."

  Bandicut hunched close to the window. The wreck was a long bulge rising from the bottom which he had at first taken for a ridge of stone. He felt a surge of adrenaline. He began scanning methodically.

  "There!" he said, pointing to the left of the wreck, which had already grown larger and clearer. Several small, dark figures were moving just above the bottom.

  L'Kell murmured. He was piloting very close to the silt and rock now. Bandicut squinted upward for a moment; he thought he'd seen a momentary surface flicker. He guessed they were a hundred or so meters down. The air pressure in the sub had been bleeding off gradually. He thought about bends, and prayed that his normalization would hold.

  /// If you have any problems,

  I'll try to smooth things out,

  increase your vascular pressure,

  and so on. ///

  /How much can you do?/ he thought with a dry throat.

  /// Quite a lot, I hope.

  The bends factors are complex;

  it's pressure change, but not just pressure change.

  It's mechanical, and chemical, and

  affected by nucleating bodies in the blood.

  We can try to minimize a lot of that.

  If it works for your dolphins and whales,

  it ought to work for you, too. ///

  Bandicut took a deep breath. /Right. Good. I'm glad./

  /// Hey, you're my only friend.

  I don't want to lose you. ///

  Bandicut blinked. /Thanks,/ he whispered.

  L'Kell was circling to the right of the wreck. "Those were landers you saw. We'll steer clear for now. If our people are outside, they'll hear us."

  No sooner had he spoken than a small group of Neri rose from the seafloor ahead of them and closed in alongside the sub. L'Kell slowed to bare maneuvering speed and turned on the outside comm. "What is your situation?"

  The answer was too low, rapid, and distorted for Bandicut to catch, but L'Kell seemed to understand it well enough. "If the landers' numbers aren't too great, we might be able to force our way in," he said to the swimmers. "Stay close for now. I'll try to bring us all in together." He began gradually increasing speed. "It's going to be difficult," he said to Bandicut.

  "The others are trapped inside? Ik, too?"

  "They think so. They couldn't see what happened on the far side. But they heard bursters, and have since heard sounds from within the wreck." L'Kell made a hissing sound that Bandicut interpreted as anger, and frustration.

  Bandicut peered ahead to the looming shape of the wrecked ship. Was it an ocean ship or a spaceship? The perspective was difficult, and the thing was half buried in silt; but it didn't look quite right for a submarine, and it was too streamlined for an orbital-parking ship, but not streamlined enough for an atmospheric lander. Perhaps configured fo
r aerobraking—?

  /// Does it matter what kind of ship it is? ///

  /Yeah, actually, it might. If it's a spaceship, it could have very different characteristics inside—reactor powerplant, for one thing—from a seagoing ship. And depending on where it came from, and who was in it . . . well, we might need to consider the implications of its being here in the first place./

  /// Meaning— ///

  /Meaning, who owns it? And are its owners around? If they're going to be fighting over this, it would help to know some facts. And if the Neri have never communicated with the landers . . . there's really no way of knowing, is there?/

  /// Unless we do something about it. ///

  Bandicut sighed darkly. /Yeah. Unless we do something about it./

  L'Kell brought them around to the far side of the ship. At least a dozen figures were hovering near the wreck. At the sub's appearance, they gathered in formation and moved to confront the Neri. L'Kell applied power, and with Neri swimmers keeping pace on either side, he began driving in fast, slewing S-curves toward the landers. It appeared they were entering into battle. And as far as Bandicut could tell, they had no weapons whatsoever.

  Chapter 19

  Healing in the Hold

  THE RUSHING WATERS, the heat, the cold, the cries of pain and hope and despair, the desire to be healed, or to be put over the edge into the quiet of death . . .

  Ik had never experienced anything like it.

  He had felt empathic connections before, and the linkage of stones with Bandicut—and the near-telepathic fury of the ice caverns on Shipworld—but this was different; this was a full link into the body, not just the mind of another. And not just one, but one after another, starting with Rencandro. His stones must have learned more from Bandicut's than he had realized, because they had risen to the challenge. It was not quite the full, miraculous healing that Bandicut and his quarx had managed with Lako; but Ik had pushed Rencandro and another in the direction of recovery, given them a breath of hope—without actually orchestrating the entire healing, which he knew was beyond his abilities. Touching the third Neri, he'd had to retreat in the face of an overwhelming desire to die. That Neri breathed his last, shortly after Ik broke contact.