The Chaos Chronicles

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  S'Cali looked sharply at both of them.

  /We'd better not plan on lingering too long at the surface,/ Bandicut muttered to the quarx.

  Char agreed.

  /// That thing down there

  is what we really need to talk to, isn't it? ///

  /You have any idea how? Assuming there's something down there capable of communicating?/

  /// Not really.

  But you get me in range, and I'll find a way. ///

  /Getting in range. That could be the hard part, couldn't it?/ Bandicut stared out the viewport, not really expecting an answer.

  *

  As they neared the surface, two Astari ships became visible as shadowy shapes overhead. S'Cali and L'Kell steered to one side, to breach the surface at a safe distance. In the final moments, the subs burst through the waves with a sudden rush, and began bobbing as sunlight streamed in through the viewports, which were now half out of the water.

  A minute later Bandicut heard a thumping noise overhead. He glimpsed a pair of suited, flippered Astari climbing from a small launch onto the deck of the Neri sub. They were attaching lines.

  "What are we supposed to do now?" S'Cali muttered.

  "I expect they'll tow us alongside one of their ships," Bandicut said. "Is that okay?" S'Cali didn't answer, but he looked extremely ill at ease. Bandicut wondered which was worse for him—being at the mercy of the Astari, or bobbing around on the surface of the sea. Soon half a dozen of the Astari were in the water, adjusting various lines—which drooped off across the water toward a surface ship, just visible over the waves. There was a jerk, and the sub began slewing from side to side as the lines were winched in, drawing them toward the Astari ship.

  It was a bumpy, seasick-making ride through the waves, and by the time they thumped up against the side of the Astari ship, Bandicut couldn't wait to get out of the sub and into the fresh air. S'Cali went first, to open the top hatch. After a moment's hesitation, he climbed out. Bandicut went next, followed by Antares.

  The first thing Bandicut saw, shining down through the hatch, was the sun. The second was the silhouette of two Astari heads leaning over the top of the conning tower, peering down at him. He kept climbing, and they backed out of his way and allowed him to step onto the deck. He squinted in the light. On the starboard side of the sub, the hull of the Astari ship rose like a cliff face. L'Kell's sub was moored behind them. A head appeared in the hatch there. It was Harding.

  Bandicut waved and started to call out, but his voice was drowned out by half a dozen or more Astari voices shouting to Harding. Bandicut gave up trying, turned to give Antares a hand getting out, then reached for a snaky ladder that was dangling down onto the deck of the sub.

  *

  From a look around the deck, Bandicut concluded that the Astari had a fair amount of industrial capability. The ship's hull was steel, the deck wood, and while he couldn't tell precisely how it was powered, he could smell hydrocarbons and steam, and saw a thin stream of smoke coming from a stack. It was not high tech, but impressive for a people who had crashlanded and been forced to carve out an existence on a new world. Probably they had brought some machinery out of their starship—maybe that's how they'd assembled their diving gear—and Harding had acknowledged that they'd taken some abandoned Neri machinery. But they certainly must have manufactured much of their own equipment. He would have liked a chance to see more of it.

  All those who had come in the subs were now on the middeck area, under the watch of half a dozen armed Astari. Harding was surrounded by a group of his fellows, who were questioning him with a combination of solicitous concern and zeal. Li-Jared stood nearby, but was slowly being pushed farther and farther away from his friend. The Astari had shown some curiosity about the Neri and the assortment of otherwordly creatures, but they seemed far more interested in what their own had to say—as if they could trust only his answers, and maybe not even his.

  Bandicut watched the Astari in silence, trying to gauge their reaction to Harding. It was like watching a gathering of tall, tailless foxes talking urgently—and yet not like that at all. They were alien, and having so many gathered together somehow made them seem even more alien. Their eyes, with those concentric circles for irises, were hypnotic and frightening. Bandicut could understand fragments of their conversation—though much went by too fast for his stones to pick up.

  "—took you how deep?" "—how did you—?" "—those things in your neck—?"

  And Harding was answering, or trying to. "Yes, they helped me . . . yes, a prisoner at first . . . but later, it was different—"

  And the others murmured, interrupting Harding and each other. "—learn about the amphibs?" "—and who are these others—?"

  "—people who helped me—" he struggled to explain "—gave me stones to understand—"

  "Understand what—?"

  "Everything—they helped me to survive."

  "Then who—" "—what—" "—these creatures—?" Pointing at Bandicut, Antares, Li-Jared.

  "Not from this world—listen to me!" he gasped, trying to silence his fellow Astari long enough to explain. He waved his arms, as if that might make them keep quiet.

  But the questions came faster than his answers, and he was falling behind the pace of his fellows. It looked to Bandicut as if Harding was having some trouble getting his breath. Was there no one in charge here? He wondered when the Astari would turn their barrage of questions on him or Li-Jared or Antares—or even the Neri. It would be a relief, if they would let up on Harding. But they seemed to be showing a growing wariness of their returned fellow.

  /// They probably think he's been contaminated

  by his visit with the amphibs, ///

  Char murmured. She had been quiet throughout, but he could feel her concern that the reception of Harding was not at all what they had hoped for.

  /// It would have been better

  if the stones had stayed hidden. ///

  /I think you're right./

  Two and three at a time, the landers stepped close to peer at the stones glittering in the sides of Harding's neck. Then they crowded up to peer at the similar stones in L'Kell's head, and Bandicut's wrists, and Antares' throat. When the first landers looked suspiciously at Li-Jared, he shrugged with a flick of his fingers and tapped his chest, then yanked the front of his suit open enough to show that he had them, too. "I think you'd better explain these stones," Li-Jared said to Harding.

  "Of course. I'm trying," Harding gasped. "You must understand," he snapped to his fellows, finally getting a moment of silence, "that these stones are what let us speak with each other. It is how I understand what they say, and how they understand what we are saying." He gestured toward Li-Jared and Bandicut, and some of the Astari pulled back a little, clearly startled by this statement.

  One of them pointed to Bandicut. "You—understand—my words?"

  When Bandicut spoke, his words reverberated in the Astari tongue: "When you speak slowly, yes. I hope that we can understand each other. And that we can tell you . . . there is no need for this fighting to continue." The Astari's eyes seemed to grow wide, and he took a step backward in surprise, and said something to the others, too quickly for Bandicut to follow. "No need for fighting," Bandicut repeated. "Do you understand my words?"

  "Your words?" the lander said, looking back at him. "We hear them, yes. But why should we believe them?"

  "Because they're true," Bandicut whispered urgently. "You must speak with the Neri and understand, you can work together."

  "We will speak to the amphibians—after Harding has told us what he has learned." The lander turned from Bandicut in what seemed a deliberate gesture of dismissal.

  Bandicut said nothing more, and stood watching as the seemingly random examination of Harding continued. There was a tall, darkly dressed Astari observing from a shaded spot under the ship's superstructure. Who was that? Bandicut wondered. It seemed to him that the lander was standing with a self-assurance that suggested authority
, and yet he had made no move to step in. Maybe this was how Astari leadership worked: let the group snarl and snap in apparent aimlessness until a consensus emerged. After watching the Neri in their pacing discussions, that would not be too hard to believe. He glanced around for the Neri. S'Cali and Jontil were keeping as far under an awning sunshade as the Astari would permit, perhaps to stay out of the crowd of landers, perhaps to block the enormous sky from their sight. L'Kell, however, had gradually moved toward the railing at the edge of the deck. Two of the Astari guards were keeping an eye on him, but it was unclear what he was doing. Getting ready to jump back into the sea?

  It took Bandicut a few moments to realize the answer. He began to edge that way himself, until he was close enough to the railing to angle a glance over the side. The sunlight flashing off the wave caps made it hard to tell. But he thought he knew what L'Kell had been looking for. Now he saw L'Kell peering at him with those enormous, sober eyes. "Eruption coming?" he murmured softly.

  L'Kell nodded, just once, before the Astari crew members herded them back into the gathering.

  *

  Li-Jared was worried about Harding. He was looking uncomfortable, and not just from the intense questioning. Finally the Karellian squeezed his way forward through the crowd. "Excuse—" bwang "—excuse me. May I speak with him, please? Thank you." The landers gave way with seeming annoyance, but no one actually stopped him from approaching his friend.

  Harding was saying, "They have—told me much—and shown me the dangers—" He stopped and gulped air.

  "Harding!" Li-Jared demanded, stepping directly in front of his friend. "Are you all right?"

  "Uh—?" The Astari looked confused. Too confused.

  Li-Jared glanced around for his fellows and saw that he was the only one close enough even to be aware of the problem. "Harding, did we decompress you too fast?"

  The Astari's eyes seemed to spin for just a moment. He seemed caught in mid-thought, and unable to restart. The muttering around them fell to silence.

  "Are you in pain?" Li-Jared asked. "Are you having trouble breathing—or thinking clearly?" Inwardly, he screamed, /What's happening to him? Is he all right? Tell me something!/

  A silent voice answered: *Please touch him, if you can.*

  Li-Jared reached out a black-fingered hand and touched Harding's chest. Several of the Astari crew muttered, closing in. Li-Jared felt a tingle of contact.

  Harding seemed finally to comprehend Li-Jared's question. "I am not . . . sure," he said huskily, blinking his concentric-circle eyes. "I do not feel pain. But I—my thinking does not seem—it feels blurred. I feel blurred."

  "Blurred," Li-Jared whispered, resisting as one of the landers tried to push him away from his friend. Blurred, as in oxygen deprivation? As in bubbles in the tissues, blocking circulation?

  *Decompression sickness. The daughter-stones cannot manage alone. He needs help.*

  Help? Dear mighty stars above. Li-Jared ignored the Astari who were looking at him with suspicion, and wheeled around to shout, "John Bandicut, come quickly!"

  He heard an uproar of murmuring—and spun back to see Harding wobbling on his feet, ready to collapse. "Must work— danger—together—" Harding wheezed.

  "What danger?" muttered a lander.

  "It's the decompression, John Bandicut! The bends!" Li-Jared shouted.

  "Must work with them—the Neri—" Harding gasped. And then he fell face forward to the deck.

  Chapter 29

  Decision Points

  BANDICUT FOUGHT HIS way through the knot of Astari. He reached Li-Jared first. The Karellian was swinging his arms to shake off the landers who were trying to pull him back from Harding. Two of the Astari crew were crouched near Harding, turning him over onto his back. Harding hissed; he was conscious, but just barely. One of his crewmates poked at the stones that were flickering frantically in his neck.

  "Can you help him?" Li-Jared cried, looking up at Bandicut.

  "What happened? I thought he was all right!"

  "I thought so too! The stones must have been holding him together!" The landers hissed suspiciously as Li-Jared waved toward the daughter-stones in Harding's neck. "But they couldn't keep it up. He needs help!"

  /// Can you make contact—quickly? ///

  Bandicut slipped between a pair of Astari and knelt close to Harding, who was blinking his eyes in a daze. Bandicut reached out a hand to touch him, to make the contact that Char needed—and felt a sudden, sharp, pincer-grip on his left shoulder, dragging him away. "OW! Damn it, wait! I'm trying to help him!" Bandicut struggled to pull free. He was tottering backward now, about to lose his balance, when another clawlike hand grabbed his right wrist, and someone jabbed at his stones, with a loud mutter. As he was pulled from the wheezing Harding, he shouted, "If you can speak—Harding—tell them to let me—"

  "Yesss—yessss—you mussst—" gasped Harding, struggling to rise. He couldn't, quite, and no one moved to help him.

  "What—" called a loud, hollow voice "—have you done to our friend?"

  Bandicut turned his head, trying to see who had spoken. It was someone behind him. There—it was the Astari he had noticed earlier, in the dark clothing, moving through the knot of people. Was this in fact the leader?

  "We're trying to help him!" Bandicut shouted. "He decompressed too fast!"

  "Decompression," hissed another lander, "does not give our people—" ssss "—demonic fits—"

  Demonic? Bandicut wasn't sure of the translators' rendering, but—

  /// It was close enough.

  They think something is wrong with you,

  and with Harding coming back bearing stones.

  Demonically wrong. ///

  /But that's—/

  /// Crazy, yes. But they don't know that. ///

  Bandicut looked up, trying desperately to think of what he could say to convince them of his intentions. Harding was still struggling to sit up. "I might be able to heal him," Bandicut insisted. "If you'll let me try."

  The dark-dressed Astari spoke again as the crowd parted to let him through. "What could you do that his own people cannot?"

  Bandicut squinted, trying to meet the Astari's gaze. "Heal him with the help of the stones. We helped him before, when the pressure below was killing him. Will you at least let us try?"

  "You helped him by giving him the eyes of a demon?" muttered one of the other Astari.

  Bandicut shifted his gaze, trying to find the speaker."No! Please let me explain, while there's still—" But the voices rose in a clamor to overwhelm him. Bandicut looked at his friends in alarm. He guessed from Antares' face that she was concentrating on the crowd, trying to offer calming emotions, and failing.

  Harding was coughing now. Flecks of purplish foam appeared at the corners of his mouth. His eyes looked as if they were going in and out of focus, and he was raspily trying to say something. "L-l-lissssten . . . t-to . . ." He wheezed and sank back.

  "He will die if nothing is done!" Bandicut snapped. "Do you want to kill him? Because if—"

  He was interrupted by a sudden shuddering in the deck under him. One of the landers lost his balance and fell. Those standing near the railing began to shout. "Explosions in the water!" "A quake!" "They're threatening us with their stones!"

  /Damn. Not now!/ Bandicut managed to stumble toward the railing. There were Astari in the way, but he maneuvered past them to see the flashes beneath the surface of the water, like heat lightning in an upside-down sky. Dear God, he thought. Is this it? The big eruption?

  The closest Astari confronted him angrily. "Why are you doing this?" "Do you control it?" "Do the amphibians?"

  Bandicut hesitated. If the landers became convinced that the sea-people controlled these eruptions, the mission was already lost.

  "—stealing parts of our ship to make this happen?"

  "No. No! Listen to me! Look at what's happening out there! It comes from the bottom of the ocean, from the abyss! None of us can control that—not you, not the Ne
ri, not any of us!" Bandicut waved his hands at L'Kell. "But his people might have a way to try to stop it!" He swung and pointed to Harding, helpless on the deck. "And he risked his life, to try to tell you to help the Neri—for your sake as well as theirs!"

  The deck lurched, and the landers began to shout, "Help them?" "Why should we help them?"

  A husky voice cried, barely audible through the clamor, "You—must—!" It was Harding, gasping.

  Bandicut and Li-Jared, almost as one, broke through the crowd and knelt beside him. His stones were flickering weakly. Bandicut reached out to touch him.

  /// That's it. Hold on if you can. ///

  He felt Harding's presence. He felt pain. The struggle for breath. Failing of strength. Darkening of hope. Stones helpless to recompress the gas bubbles, Bandicut's stones trying to lend strength . . .

  He was wrenched away with a grip that sent a blaze of pain through his shoulder.

  /// Damn! ///

  "Don't be fools!" he gasped. "Harding—try to hold on!" He wished for a frantic instant that his stones would turn him into a terrifying alien vision, as they had once before—or send out bolts of energy—but he knew that they didn't dare; their mission was to end conflict, not promote it. Even if at the cost of his friend's life.

  He became aware of L'Kell calling, "Would it help, John Bandicut, if we took him back down to depth?"

  He tried to think. "It might." If they took Harding back down to the Neri city, they might recompress the bubbles; he might recover there.

  "No!" shouted a lander. "You took him once already! If he dies here, that's his right—"

  "He came back here to help you!" Antares cried out. "Don't you understand? Don't you want to understand?"

  Hearing Antares' voice crack with emotion, her words falteringly translated into Astari, Bandicut suddenly knew that they had lost. But he was stunned when one of the Astari shouted, "You want to take him back? We'll help you take your demon eyes back!" While two landers held Bandicut in a vice grip, two others picked Harding up like a sack of feed and carried him with a few swift strides to the railing. With a single glance back, they flung him out over the water.