The Prometheus Project

by Steve White

  Inside was a featureless chamber that could probably have held three Ekhemasu, and so was ample for us. Khorat turned to us, and my earpiece conveyed an apologetic tone. "There will be environmental differences."

  I came to the realization that what we were inside was an air lock. "Uh, how pronounced are these differences?"

  "Enough to be noticeable. Possibly even a trifle uncomfortable at first. But not hazardous to your species, I assure you."

  "Well . . . let's go."

  Khorat used his remote, and led us forward. The comfortably Earthlike atmosphere of Antyova II moved forward with us, expanding through the second portal to dissipate into the thin dry air beyond.

  I wasn't altogether unfamiliar with transitions like that. I had spent most of my youth at low altitudes, and then lived for a while in Denver. At first, I'd found myself getting winded easily, as well as experiencing dry sinuses and excruciatingly chapped lips, but I'd adjusted. So this wasn't alarming. To tell the truth, it was barely noticeable compared to the abrupt transition from weighing a hair over one eighty to weighing a little less than one twenty-three. I learned that figure later. At the time, it seemed less than that.

  I shot Chloe a glance. She looked less disconcerted than I felt, being more accustomed to the profoundly unnatural sensation of stepping into or out of an artificial gravity field. And Khorat was positively prancing. We'd previously seen him in the gravity field of Antyova II, only fractionally different from Earth's and almost half again as strong as that of his homeworld. Now his walk, while still vaguely equine to our eyes, differed from what we'd seen before as much as the gliding gait of a Tennessee walking horse differed from the trudging of a plow horse pulling too heavy a load. I now understood why his pace had seemed so unhurried. In fact, he'd been hurrying as much as possible.

  He turned back to face us. "I apologize for any discomfort. But this is the one place I am certain we can talk without fear of eavesdropping." He spoke a few words in what must have been his own language, for my Delkasu translator remained silent. "I have instructed the environmental controls to add to the humidity. And would you prefer that the view be turned off?"

  "Oh, no, that's all right," Chloe assured him hastily. I nodded in agreement, forgetting that the gesture probably didn't mean the same thing in Khorat's culture. Like Chloe, I was taking in my first view of the world of Khemava.

  At least I assumed that was what we were seeing, by grace of holographic projections that made the room seem a colonnaded portico open on three sides to the landscape. Overhead, the sky was a deeper blue than Earth's, shading almost to royal blue, although judging from the position of the sun it was midmorning or afternoon. (Afternoon, I was certain, without knowing why.) That sun loomed larger in the sky than Earth's did and had an orange tint, suggesting a star dimmer and less massive than Antyova, let alone Sol. A shallow ramp—the Khemasu didn't use stairs, I was later to learn, although they'd learned to get up and down them in the course of dealing with their bipedal Delkasu rulers—led down to a wide canal. It ran arrow-straight to a horizon that seemed a trifle closer than Earth's, although that was probably just my imagination. (Dr. Fehrenbach had told us not to expect noticeable differences in this on any planet in the habitable size range.) That horizon was flat and uncluttered where the canal vanished into it. But around us, all was monumental artificiality, a cityscape that seemed to blend into the desert beyond it in a reddish-tawny continuum, with bluffs and cliffs of architecture rising above the canal, all in an austere style shared by the phantom building behind us, in whose wall the air lock door appeared to be set.

  It looked like a cross between ancient Egypt and Mars—not the real Mars, of course, but the Mars of Bradbury and Burroughs, before the space probes ruined the Solar System. There were a few jarring touches, of course, like the streams of aircars that passed between the buildings and over the bridges that spanned the canal, and the whip-slender trees. And the lights that crisscrossed the sky overhead were, I was pretty sure, not the hurtling moons of Barsoom but artificial habitats in low orbit.

  "I'm glad you don't mind the imagery," said Khorat. "Without it, this room is drearily bare and functional, like all these rooms. Those who make use of them are expected to provide their own familiar environments by means of the holographic projection equipment that is made available." He led us to the center of the "portico," where there were a large pile of cushions and two small benches. He lowered himself onto the cushions with obvious relief. They, at least, were real. "We do not use any equivalent of your chairs. These—" he indicated the benches "—were the best I could find."

  We perched on the benches, which were also real—altogether too real, in their hard discomfort.

  "So this," Chloe inquired, looking around at the holo show, "is your 'familiar environment' on Khemava?"

  "To a certain extent. It bears little resemblance to the capital city, or any of the other major centers. They have, by now, been largely made over to suit the needs and tastes of the Delkasu. In fact, certain districts would seem to you indistinguishable from the city around us. No, this is a representation of the areas that have gone relatively unaffected by the changes the Delkasu have brought." Khorat looked around, and with my increasing confidence in my ability to read his expressions I thought to perceive a trace of sadness. "In truth, this is an idealization—or, perhaps, an accentuation—of those areas: the 'Old Khemava' as it once was, or might have been, or should have been." I found myself thinking of Mrs. Miniver versus the real post-Industrial Revolution England.

  "So," I queried, "this suite is leased by members of your own species alone, as opposed to the diplomatic mission from the Ekhemasu Empire to which you belong?"

  "Yes. The local authorities in their munificence provide this facility for the use of non-Delkasu transients, at a nominal fee. Our own Delkasu superiors naturally expect us to provide ourselves with quarters here, to refresh ourselves with a nostalgia-reinforcing simulation." There was a perceptible pause as Khorat brought his already well-controlled emotions under even tighter rein. "But yes, this is a kind of private retreat for those of us who arranged to have ourselves attached to this mission—"

  "'Arranged' to have yourselves—" I began.

  "—and therefore is a secure locale for us to discuss matters openly," Khorat hurried on smoothly. "Including any questions you may have."

  "Like why you planted these homing devices on us . . . in accordance with your 'old custom' of gifts to new acquaintances."

  "Ah, yes. That. Actually, inventing folk customs isn't much of an art. I'm ashamed to admit that we do it all the time on Khemava, whenever we want to 'put one over' on the Delkasu."

  "I don't doubt that for a minute," I said. My mother had been from the South, and I remembered Uncle Remus. (That was before our rulers had declared those tales "demeaning to African-Americans," which would have left the creator of Br'er Rabbit chuckling over yet another confirmation of his estimate of the white man's intelligence.) "But we're not Delkasu. In fact, our race has never even come in contact with yours until the last few days. Which leads to the questions of your motives for wanting to track us—"

  "Although," Chloe interjected, "now you seem to be telling us that there's no connection between you giving us the devices and the Agardir following us today—"

  "Agardir you say are working for the Tonkuztra," I said, picking up the thread.

  Khorat waited patiently, then spoke with equal patience. "Actually, there is a connection between the devices and what happened today . . . but not the one you previously imagined. The opposite of it, in fact. You see, I gave them to you because I was certain the Tonkuztra—using either the Agardir or other hirelings—would be following you the first time you ventured out into the city. When that happened, I wanted to be able to locate you promptly so I could get you out of harm's way and explain certain matters to you. The first turned out to be unnecessary. I am now doing the second."

  "But . . ." Chloe was having obvious diffi
culty in deciding which question to pose first. "But surely you knew we'd be able to recognize these things for what they are."

  "Of course. That was to assure that you would wear them. My reading of your species suggested that you would be too intrigued concerning my motivations to do otherwise."

  My head was whirling so fast I forgot to be irritated by Khorat's accurate—and apparently effortless—prediction of my behavior. "Uh . . . maybe you ought to just begin at the beginning," I said, in a burst of originality.

  Khorat settled himself more comfortably onto the cushions his race evidently preferred to more rigid forms of furniture. "The matter is complex," he began, making me feel somewhat better about my own level of brilliance. "As a starting point, the Tonkuztra have stolen something very important from the Ekhemasu."

  "Excuse me," I interrupted diffidently, for my earpiece wasn't up to the level of nuance I needed here. "Do you mean from the Ekhemasu Empire?"

  "No. I am referring to the Ekhemasu people—the original race, of which I am a member."

  My brain kicked into high gear. "So, am I correct in supposing that you—whatever your position in the diplomatic mission your empire has sent here to Antyova—are not acting on behalf of that empire?"

  "You are. In this matter, at least, I am acting for an organization of my own race. The imperial authorities know nothing of the theft, nor even of that which was stolen."

  "May I further assume that it was this 'organization' that 'arranged' for your presence here?"

  "Ah, I see you haven't forgotten that slip of the tongue on my part, Mr. Devaney! Yes, you may so assume. We have ways of . . . influencing the imperial bureaucracy when necessary." The alien face suddenly wore the expression I had learned to recognize as one of amusement. "Dismiss any thoughts of some revolutionary cabal among us, plotting the subversion of the empire and the expulsion of the Delkasu."

  "No such thoughts had occurred to me," I declared huffily. My reaction probably had something to do with the fact that that was exactly what I'd been thinking.

  "I am reassured." The alien's amusement was unabated. "The fact of the matter is, we do not really disapprove of the empire. Nor of the Delkasu, really, even though we have a deep-seated tendency to feel uncomfortable around meat-eating animals. No offense intended," he added smoothly. "We have adjusted to the concept of civilized meat-eaters. And the Delkasu undeniably brought much that was of value."

  "You mean their advanced technology?"

  "Not so much that as their genius for organization. All the more so inasmuch as we ourselves have been able to make ourselves indispensable to their organization, and—as I have intimated—use it for our own ends from time to time. At any rate, our historical sense predisposes us to take the long view of things, inasmuch as it is rooted in a very long history. We therefore tend to regard the Delkasu and their 'Ekhemasu Empire' as merely an episode. So while we may occasionally daydream of a world without the Delkasu, I really doubt if many of us would take the opportunity if by some miracle it was offered. At worst, we think of them as somewhat—" Khorat or the translator software or both hesitated over just the right word "—bumptious."

  "This is all very interesting, I'm sure," said Chloe in a tone of firm female practicality. "But to get back to what you were saying earlier, may we know what is it that the Tonkuztra have stolen from your people?"

  "No." This was stated with a flat finality that came across in the hard monosyllable I heard Khorat utter, as well as in the intonation my earpiece gave the English negative. "The fact that we are dealing with the matter in our own way should tell you that this is something our own government cannot be allowed to know. Still less may you."

  "Why?" I demanded. "If the Tonkuztra have already stolen whatever-it-is, then the big secret is blown anyway."

  "Say what you will of the Tonkuztra, they are not stupid. They are quite capable of appreciating the unique, no, transcendent importance of what they have acquired. Not that they can really understand the full depths of its implications, and not that I am fatuous enough to expect it to awaken in them some heretofore well-concealed sense of social responsibility. But the 'family' in question has proven intelligent enough to proceed in this matter with great discretion, going beyond even the pains they usually take to keep secrets from each other as well as from the authorities. They have made no attempt to use the stolen knowledge themselves, but instead have placed it on the market very circumspectly. They have put out feelers only to those potential buyers they consider likely to be interested in this particular merchandise but too backward to make practical use of it. Thus they exercise their cupidity while appeasing their . . . not 'conscience,' never that. Say, rather, 'caution.'" Khorat's tone took on a kind of bitter sadness. "I'm sure they believe they are being just too terribly clever for words. It is a pity that they are wrong."

  "Are you implying that they've found a buyer?"

  "I am. That is why the organization to which I have alluded went to a great deal of trouble to make sure my colleagues and I would be here on Antyova II at this particular time. We are here to prevent the sale from taking place."

  I found myself nodding. This was starting to make a kind of sense. "So they're selling it to the Selangava Empire? But no; you said they were looking for 'backward' buyers they think can't do any real harm with it. So who are they selling it to? And what's all this got to do with us?"

  "I see you have still not grasped the implications of what I said before: we had to be in position here at this particular time."

  "You're right; I don't get it." I was growing irritated. "What's so special about this particular time, here in the Antyova system? Who's here now, who isn't normally . . . ?" My voice trailed off.

  Khorat hitched himself up on the cushions and looked down at us with those huge dark eyes. "I perceive that you begin to understand."

  "You mean . . . us?" Infuriatingly, my voice broke in a squeak.

  "Someone among you," Khorat specified. "Someone the Tonkuztra have been in contact with. Hence, without doubt, the same traitor of whom you are already aware—the one who revealed to the Tonkuztra the truth about your world." Those eyes seemed to grow even huger, and we found we could not look away. "Oh, yes. We Ekhemasu know all about that."

  * * *

  I have no idea how long the silence lasted. Chloe finally broke it.

  "I can't imagine what you're talking about," she said in a perfectly normal voice. I've never been prouder of another human being. That was, I'm certain, the precise moment I fell in love with her.

  "We shall proceed far more briskly with this discussion if we do not attempt to bullshit each other." Khorat must, I thought, have used a seriously pungent expression, for the prissy translator software to have come out with that.

  "But," I managed, trying without success to match Chloe's superhuman equanimity, "what makes you think . . . what gives you the idea . . . ?"

  Khorat lowered his head and gave a long, rustling sound deep in his throat, which went untranslated. It was, I was later to learn, the equivalent of a human rolling his eyes heavenward with a sigh of mock resignation. "Never mind how we know. As you have probably gathered by now, the organization to which I belong has ways of finding things out. And you may set your minds at rest: we have no desire to expose the truly admirable ongoing deception your people have been practicing. So let us proceed to consider how certain things, heretofore mysterious to you, now stand explained."

  "What 'things'?" Chloe inquired, her busted bluff tacitly shelved.

  "For one, the reason for the traitor's initial betrayal. It was, you see, a 'down payment.' The information about your planet's real state of affairs was, if you will, 'earnest money' to establish this individual's bona fides with the Tonkuztra."

  "But that was five years ago," I protested, remembering my own involvement.

  "These things take time, Mr. Devaney. But to continue: something else that is—or should be—clear to you now is the reason why you attracted the a
ttention of the Tonkuztra and their Agardir minions. You are the mission's security officer. From the standpoints of both buyer and seller, your elimination would mean one less thing to worry about. This was so obvious that I took steps to prevent it."

  "These," Chloe nodded, fingering the trinket still pinned to her jacket. "I guess I was included in the deal as a friend of his."

  I stood up so I wouldn't have to look upward to meet Khorat's eyes. "I don't suppose you happen to know the identity of this traitor among us humans?"

  "Unfortunately, no. I was hoping you would be able to help me ascertain it."

  "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to identify this person, and you can be sure I'll make it my top priority starting now. Only . . . I must have missed the part about why I should share my findings with you."

  Khorat took no apparent offense. "We can help each other. I am in a position to expedite your investigation—and, incidentally, enable you to verify the truth of what I have been saying."

  "All right. I'm listening."

  "We have learned that a face-to-face meeting is to take place. It's the way the Tonkuztra do business, you see. Many of their practices and traditions have an archaic flavor, dating back to their days as a secret society on the prespaceflight Delkasu homeworld. I imagine there are parallels among the criminal organizations with which you are familiar. At any rate, we know the time and place of this meeting, whose purpose is to finalize the terms of the sale and arrange for the actual transfer."

  "If you know all this, what do you need us for?"

  "By a stroke of ill fortune, my colleagues and I are unable to act on our knowledge. At the time in question, our presence is required for a transaction that is crucial for our government. You two, on the other hand, might well be able to observe the meeting. You could learn both the traitor's identity and the time and place of the actual delivery . . . and pass the latter information on to me, in payment for my having enabled you to obtain the former."