Char didn't answer, didn't have to.
/I will be b'joogered,/ he whispered. And his thoughts began spiraling off in a way that might have led to silence-fugue or worse, but somehow stayed controlled. Maybe it was Char's influence, but whatever the reason, his thoughts were spinning in an uncanny convergence of rationality and intuition. He was coming to an understanding, and not by the usual route; it felt like speeding in an airplane around racing pylons, and scooping up words and data and clarity in a whirl that left no time for breath or articulation of thought.
He came to, with a shivering intake of breath—and a realization that he was rotating physically. He was peering down the barrel of a long, faintly glowing tube, and moving slowly toward it. That was what Char feared. He was not in the Maw, but he was close to it in some terrifying fashion; this thing surrounding him was intimately connected to the Maw, and had been since its arrival on this world.
/That's it,/ he whispered.
/// What's it? ///
The quarx had been trying to keep him together all this time, and she was dazed.
/That's what happened to the ship—I think./
/// You mean . . . ?
Wait—the stones are getting
some kind of data download. ///
/Data download?/ He waited, not speaking. As Char gathered the data, he let his mind fill with the resulting images, and slowly realized . . . were they downloading from some interstellar blackbox recorder the events that had brought this craft down? The images formed quickly and bewilderingly, but he caught the central event:
The stardrive, its tendrils extended into whatever tortured reality defined its operating regime, was caught in intersecting space-time fields projected by something deep in a distant planet. It should not be possible, but it was; it was trapped in a tightening web, unable to free itself. From orbit, unable even to turn itself off, it was being drawn into a deadly, spiraling descent . . .
The landing was cushioned by the same forces that caused it. The spaceship, half in and half out of normal space-time, did not so much crash as materialize at the bottom of the atmosphere, meters above the ocean surface. The impact, though hard enough to shatter critical stardrive components, was not so hard as to kill most of the passengers. It remained on the surface awhile, sinking slowly enough to allow for evacuation of living inhabitants and some hardware and supplies; and then it sank beneath the waves, leaving a scattered armada of rafts and makeshift boats to struggle toward shore.
The stardrive remained locked in the deathgrip of the strange thing that had doomed it. It moved a little, by fits and starts, closer to the thing. And its people, those it had carried across the stars in search of a new home, vanished over the waters and made themselves known only by whispering, half audible transmissions. Soon they did not even seem like the same people. They seemed even less so when they returned later, much later, to begin stripping the wreck, without so much as an attempt to speak to the soul of the stardrive.
There seemed a note of . . . regret? . . . or more like sadness . . . in the images. Was that a reflection of the beings who created the machine, or was it merely Bandicut and Char's interpretation?
Bandicut thought he heard something—a voice. Char?
/// Not me. ///
Then it spoke again. Not in words. The stones seemed unable to translate, or even put an overlay of meaning upon it. But he felt the stones' increasing desire to understand it. It was a thrumming kind of sound, like a string bass simulating a human voice. At first he'd thought he had heard it in his mind; now it seemed to be vibrating through the water, surrounding him, making his skin tingle.
And then it faded away.
/Did you hear that? Do you know what it was?/
/// I tried. But I couldn't—
wait, I feel something closer.
Do you feel it? ///
Bandicut strained, let his awareness drift back from its focus on the stardrive. There was something out there, something much smaller and weaker. Not a part of the stardrive connection. But it felt alive: confused, frightened.
/// Can you see it . . . with your eyes? ///
He blinked. He had become so engrossed in the inner contact that he had nearly lost his sense of the physical. The light was uneven, wavering, warped by the distortions of the stardrive core. He slowly turned. One instant, the stardrive seemed an archway surrounding him; the next, it was a strangely glimmering pinpoint in front of him.
And then he saw it, floating just beyond the pinpoint: a dark shape, bent and curled. It took him a moment to realize what it was, helpless in the fields of distortion. /Char—/
/// Yes, that's it.
It's the lander, the one we came for. ///
Bandicut nodded slowly; he'd had trouble remembering how this sojourn had begun—in an effort to capture, or rescue, the lander. /What now? I don't know if I can get over to it./ He moved his arms and legs, not so much to propel himself as to establish whether he could propel himself. He quickly found that his movement in the water was almost uncontrollable; there were invisible, and turbulent, currents here that he could not compete with.
/// Arms out—hold them still. ///
/Uh?/ He did as Charlie requested, but without understanding.
/// If we can't control the currents,
maybe we can ride them. ///
After a few moments of using his arms as vanes, he saw that it was indeed having an effect. He felt the current turning him and carrying him downward, but away from the lander. /Ride them where?/ he asked worriedly.
/// Toward the lander, I think. ///
/But this isn't—/
/// The currents do not move in straight lines.
The stones have been trying to track them.
If we can sweep around . . . ///
He was, in fact, drifting below the core now, in a slow arc that perhaps would take him toward the lander, after all. At the same time, the shape of the room had begun changing around him, in a slow, elastic twisting. He steadied his nerves, and waited for the stones' grid to reappear in his vision; and it did, but just for a moment, and then the grid distorted and dissolved.
/// They're losing track . . .
they're not sure anymore. ///
He grunted, and blinked in a slow, methodical rhythm, taking in the surroundings each time his eyes opened, but taking care not to keep them open long enough for the blurring to make him any dizzier. He must have drifted into a more active zone of the space-time-altering fields. Now how the hell was he going to get out of it?
/// Try to descend, ///
murmured Charlene's voice, as though from a very great distance.
Descend? How could he possibly even know which way was down?
/// Exhale . . . streamline . . . ///
Of course; he had forgotten his basic diving skills. He expelled all the air from his lungs, pressed his arms to his sides. He felt himself beginning to sink.
A rainbow flashed around him once, twice.
And then he heard the voice of the stardrive, a chime singing to him.
/Please, stones—what are they saying?/
He was descending out of the field, he thought . . . or perhaps not. Something was propelling him forward, a current. He drew in a shallow breath and expelled it, trying to keep his negative buoyancy. Was the stardrive core over his head now? He could see only a haze of sparkling things that, for a startling moment, reminded him of the colony creatures called the Maksu. He called out silently, Can you hear me? Can you stop this madness?
The current carried him forward, and then he began rising in an arc that no amount of breath control would affect. And he heard a voice that was a little like the husky voice of Ik, and a little like the impossible metallic groan of the Maksu, and a little like a dozen other kinds of voices, saying, "This one needs you. Can you help him to freedom?"
And in that instant of uncertainty, he suddenly saw the curled, crippled shape of the lander directly before him. He reached out and
caught the lander in his hands, and an instant later felt the current coiling about him, pulling him into a slow half-somersault. He struggled for a moment to slip out of the current, but it was hopeless. Ik, pull me in! he thought—then remembered that Ik's rope was gone. He drew a slow, even breath, and allowed himself simply to tumble with the disorienting movement of the current.
Lights seemed to sparkle and flash around him again, and then they went out; and he was lost in the darkness, the alien helpless in his arms.
Chapter 21
Deep-sea Express
IK STEELED HIMSELF to remain calm, even after watching his friend glide out into a dark emptiness which almost immediately came alive with bizarre glimmerings and twists of light. Bandicut had appeared to tumble, then fall feet-first into a ghostly whirlpool. Soon after he'd vanished from view, Ik felt his rope go slack. When he gave it an experimental tug, the other end sailed out of the darkness back to him, and the rope contracted into a coil in his hand. He could only curse in silence.
The strange lighting effects did not go away, but kept mutating, like a living thing. The Neri floating with Ik looked extremely agitated, and were no doubt terrified. One of them fled. Even S'Cali and L'Kell looked as if they wanted to. L'Kell was gazing somberly into the room, probably convinced that their friend was gone. For Ik, though, the continued play of light signified hope for Bandicut's survival. John Bandicut was a difficult person to kill. If something in there was still reacting to his presence, then perhaps Bandicut was still alive.
Ik kept silent, reminding himself to take the long view. And that meant not just faith in Bandicut, but a willingness to accept it if Bandicut were really gone. It was a good and useful exercise. And it was a damnably hard viewpoint to keep up.
It seemed he had been waiting a lifetime. He waited a few more lifetimes—and then he saw movement. He lost his composure and shouted madly at the Neri to move, move, move!
The madness room flickered and went dark, and John Bandicut came tumbling out of the darkness like a bouncing ball, head over heels. Ik was too clumsy in the water to assist, but the Neri flashed into position like fish, catching Bandicut with ease— Bandicut, and the lander he held in his arms.
The lander!
Ik made rapid arm strokes, moving slowly toward them. "John Bandicut!" His voice wasn't getting through. But now he could see Bandicut's eyes fluttering inside his helmet. Obviously he was disoriented, and possibly he was hurt. As Ik reached out to catch the human's arm, he got a look at the lander, limp in its diving gear. Was it alive? Ik couldn't see its eyes. He touched it, felt for movement or warmth, but couldn't feel a thing.
The Neri were crowding around them, L'Kell saying, "Let's get out of here. Let's get to the transport, before something else happens." L'Kell's voice was thin and metallic, but vibrating with urgency. He waved to the other Neri, and Ik felt two of them grab his straps, and they all began moving. He kept a tight grip on Bandicut and the lander, and counted the moments until they could get back to open air.
*
Bandicut was conscious but woozy as the Neri towed them down one corridor after another, toward . . . no, it didn't look as if they were returning to the chamber they had come from. He hadn't heard the plans. Maybe they were going to another air chamber. He wanted very badly to get this helmet off and stop trying to be a fish. He wanted to get his breath and rest. He could hear the Neri talking among themselves, but he didn't bother straining to hear what they were saying. They would tell him soon enough.
He kept a viselike grip on the lander's gear straps, dimly aware that he and it and Ik were all being towed together like a harpooned whale. He caught momentary glimpses through the creature's faceplate, as the lantern light came and went with the swimmers' movements. He could just tell that the lander's eyes were open, though it looked more dead than alive. Probably it was deep in some equivalent of shock. Was it suffering from air starvation? Or from the effects of the stardrive room? He wondered if there was anything he could do to help it.
/// I'm, uh, feeling a little better.
Maybe I could take a look— ///
/If you do,/ Bandicut muttered, /be damned careful./ One of these days, the quarx was going to reach out to make contact with someone, and they would regret it.
". . . okay? . . . let us take him? . . . try to relax . . ."
Who was that? He finally realized that it was L'Kell, talking to him. "Um—what did you say?" he grunted, probably not loudly enough to be heard.
"John Bandicut, are you all right?" L'Kell's voice was clearer and more urgent now.
"I think so . . ."
"Can you let go of the lander?"
"I—"
/// Don't. This is difficult. ///
His breath caught, and he realized that Charlie was already trying to make contact across the suit, water, and skin boundary. "Uh, no—" he said hoarsely to L'Kell "—let me carry him. He's hurt, I think. Needs help."
The Neri looked at him in puzzlement, but allowed him to maintain his grip on the lander. "We're going to try to get you all out of here," L'Kell said, and they glided down the gloomy, curving corridors like spirits in the night, or bats in a haunted house.
*
/// Hold on.
The stones are picking up
some radiation. ///
He was startled. /Radiation? What kind of radiation?/
/// I'll ask, but let's call a stop.
The biggest danger is to the Neri.
And the lander. ///
Bandicut blinked, and shouted to the Neri, "Stop, please! Radiation!" The Neri halted, alarmed, as he turned slowly, trying to look around. "Where are we? What is this passageway?" Was that a blue glow he saw ahead? Cerenkov radiation?
L'Kell moved closer. "We are making our way to another part of the wreck. There is a large—" kkriiikk "—cargo submarine, which we will use to transport the wounded and the captive. We believe this may be a good time to get out. It will soon be daylight outside. But there are not many landers around right now."
Bandicut was surprised. "You have a cargo sub here?"
"It is docked inside, on the other side of the ship. It is used to transport machinery, but it has been unable to get away. Until now, we hope."
Used to transport machinery? Bandicut suddenly recalled an image he had glimpsed during his contact with the stardrive: a view of the ship's passengers leaving the wreck after the crash and going ashore—and later, much later, returning to begin removing pieces of the ship. But there were different kinds of beings who came, and who took away pieces. Landers. Neri.
He suddenly realized that L'Kell had spoken again.
"John Bandicut—the radiation?"
The radiation! /Charlie?/
/// It seems to be primarily in the gamma wavelength.
Probably emanating from a fixed source,
not radionuclides being carried in the water. ///
Bandicut tried to think that through. If radioactive materials weren't physically being dispersed through the water, then they must have strayed close to the reactor itself. "L'Kell, we need to back up. Are we near anything like a cracked bulkhead—or any other indication of the reactor that I warned you about?"
L'Kell waved the others into retreat. "Something that we think might be the reactor is nearby, yes—but we've stayed upcurrent of it. We thought as long as we were upcurrent, and the water was cold . . ."
"Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But maybe there's a shield missing from the reactor area."
/// The radiation is falling off, ///
Char said, as they retreated around a bend in the corridor.
"We're safe here," Bandicut said to L'Kell. "But we have to find another way around."
They began backtracking, searching for a new route. This was clearly a part of the ship that the Neri did not know well. The corridors seemed to Bandicut to curve around like coils of rope unwinding. He wasn't sure if it was the layout of the ship, or a change in his perceptions resulting from
the encounter with the stardrive.
/// A little of both, maybe.
This is very intriguing, John. ///
/Glad you're enjoying it. Have you made any progress—any contact?/ The lander was starting to stir in his grip.
/// Of a sort, though not verbal.
I believe he is aware of my presence,
without comprehending it. ///
/That's probably a good way to leave it for now,/ Bandicut thought. The last thing he needed at the moment was an internal alien encounter.
It took him a while to work it out, but the passages were apparently laid out in helical patterns that corkscrewed through the ship like worms tunneling through an apple. Possibly drunken worms. There were frequent openings and intersections, many of them set at odd and awkward angles. Several times, they passed through wider chambers in which strange-looking machines hugged the walls. Science labs? Control rooms? Cafeterias? It all looked, in the glow of the lanterns, like the remains of civilization from some mythical Atlantis, completely transformed from its original function.
"Do you know where this ship came from?" Bandicut asked L'Kell. He wanted to bite his tongue the instant the words were out. Not now, he thought.
L'Kell seemed puzzled by the question. "You know we don't. The sea is full of sunken vessels. This one is different, but—"
"As though built by someone else?"
L'Kell swam closer, then away, almost as if pacing in a Neri conference. "Yes," he said. "It's different, not just in machines, but in shape. We have often wondered what offshoot of our ancestors built it."
"I think," Bandicut said, "it is far more different than you know."
L'Kell, without answering, seemed thoughtful as he swam on.
*
Eventually the passageway opened into a very wide and high space, relatively well lit by a large number of Neri lanterns. Occupying the floor of the space were several small, alien-looking vessels—spacecraft?—plus a submarine of considerable size. They swam closer. As they approached the sub, the space lit up with a burst of dazzling light—sunlight, Bandicut realized, squinting. The far wall of the great room was being opened, tilted outward, by Neri swimmers. Hangar doors! It must be morning outside, and even the pale sunlight that reached this depth was dazzling after the interminable gloom of the ship's interior.
The Chaos Chronicles Page 87
