The Sea is Full of Stars wos-6

by Jack L. Chalker

  The two “androids” returned with trays, served drinks to each of them and then offered trays of hors d’oeuvres around before taking position on either side of the doorlike guards, although if anyone needed a refill, they were quick to move to offer it.

  Both Jules and Ari noted that it wasn’t above Brother Bakhtar to drink wine, although the glass was moved up under that mask and little was revealed. Wallinchky could hardly wait to get to a computer terminal alone and see what the probes revealed about the mystery man.

  “No one has accused you of treason,” the Inspector assured him. “However, the City of Modar was struck by a known and powerful Enemy of the Realm, Josich Hadun— or, at least, it was under his orders. Two of his family members were in the saltwater section traveling under assumed names. We assume they were in charge of murdering the Captain and coordinating the whole thing. There is no question of the perpetrators. The question is, rather, why.”

  “We gave our statements, Inspector. We were just happy to escape with our lives. I gather this Hadun doesn’t usually feel so generous.”

  “Not without an ulterior motive, no. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here. The other concerns some subsequent events since that you almost certainly would not yet be aware of.”

  “Yes?” Jules Wallinchky didn’t like this. Information was constantly coming in to him wherever he was, but with the vast distances of space, it was always quite a bit behind, which didn’t stop him from not liking surprises.

  “First, I am certain you remember Captain Kincaid?”

  “Yes, more or less. We didn’t see much of him after the first day, of course. I assumed he was in one of the lifeboats or had perished with the ship.”

  “Captain Kincaid is too single-minded to die. He was already outside of the ship when it was attacked. In fact, he attached himself to your lifeboat.”

  Both men almost jumped in their chairs. “What!”

  “Indeed. He seemed to think you had something to do with it, I’m afraid, and he suspected that you would be meeting the perpetrators. And a ship did arrive, and blow up the engine and passenger modules, and then it sent a shuttle to your lifeboat. This was a matter we hadn’t remembered you or anyone else in your lifeboat mentioning.” The irony in his tone was obvious. “Well, you see, Kincaid simply switched from your lifeboat to theirs and rode it back to their ship. They weren’t water breathers, so once he recognized the ship type and operated an emergency airlock, which was being used off and on by work crews after your departure, he got inside and managed a more comfortable ride. It’s quite a large vessel, those frigates. A shave and a uniform and the Captain could pass himself off easily as one who belonged there. The only ones likely to recognize him were the water breathers from the ship, and he wasn’t likely to meet them.”

  “Then he infiltrated them and got to their headquarters?” Ari asked, amazed at Kincaid’s daring.

  “He did. Indeed, he once got within sight of a Hadun dome that almost certainly had Josich inside. The problem was, he couldn’t get any closer without going through a security ring that nothing could pass without all the requisite codes and authorizations. He could do nothing more alone, so he managed to get off that world and send its coordinates to us.”

  “So that’s how you know the story!” Wallinchky commented. “Kincaid sent it.”

  “No, he told it to us. We got there, all right, and we caught them web-footed, as it were. Everyone but Josich and his immediate imperial family guard. They happened, by sheer luck, to be on a nearby world not unlike this one. A world with ruins of the Ancient Ones, where they were doing experiments with the thing they stole.”

  Wallinchky was more upset at this implication than in being caught in a plot. “You mean it wasn’t junk?”

  O’Leary smiled, knowing he’d scored a major blow to the big man’s ego and gotten at least a start of a confession all in one. “Yes, Citizen Wallinchky, it was not junk. For quite a while we didn’t have sufficient power; we spent a fortune getting power to a dead world just so we could at least tickle the Ancient Ones’ artifacts and see if they would scratch. There was finally reaction, but we didn’t get much further. The data stream that thing at the core sends, its pervasiveness, and its complexity, are beyond anything we have or know, and we have no key. In the end the thing was being packed up until we could solve the cryptography problem, if ever, and sent for mothballing.”

  “So it’s still junk,” Wallinchky pointed out. “You can tickle but it ignores you.”

  O’Leary cleared his throat. “That’s not quite what I said. We can’t talk to it. It doesn’t or can’t talk to us. But it noticed. Oh, how it noticed. Even as we were closing in on them, they had our device set up with a respectable power supply and one hell of a master computer. Josich was there because he was too insecure to risk them actually tapping that godlike power and not needing him anymore. His family unit was there, and it’s a pretty extensive and bloodthirsty lot, because he didn’t like them out of his sight for long periods. They were gearing up for a major test, all of them, when our ships came in. We blew his yacht to Hell, targeted his dome and camp so he’d have nowhere to go, and then came in to wait for the surrender.”

  “Then you’ve got Hadun, Inspector?” Wallinchky asked calmly, his mind weighing hundreds of options and moves.

  “No, sir. No, we don’t. You see, just at the moment we penetrated the planetary grid, the damnedest thing happened.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small message cube. “Here. Play this and you’ll see just what I mean. It’s from the command ship theater camera.”

  Ari, who had a sinking feeling that he was seeing a long, long series of sessions in corrective therapy or worse, took it, almost dropped it, then turned and inserted it into a small cavity in the study computer station. After a few seconds for processing and analysis, Core began running the recording.

  The world did look an awful lot like Grabant 4—amazingly so. The Ancient Ones had been consistent in their taste in planets, which back then were probably a lot more livable. Even here they saw signs of seas, rivers, ancient life in sediments, much more, back when there was something to breathe and water to use instead of these barren, sterile deserts.

  The shots, six different point-of-view observations that pretty well covered things, were very clear if a bit small on the study screen. Still, it was easy to see the burning domes of the camp, the shattered and still smoking luxury yacht, and tiny little dots running every which way, while something larger and pulsing a white energy was in the center of what was almost certainly an Ancient Ones ruin.

  Then, suddenly, visible lines of force, pencil thin, appeared to ooze from the ground at mathematically fixed points and flow together, forming a grid of hexagonal shapes.

  “What the hell is that?” Wallinchky wanted to know.

  “Just wait,” O’Leary told him. “Coming up is what the full planetary view saw. There!”

  The six views were momentarily interrupted by a full screen of the entire planet. It seemed alive with crisscrossing lines not just on the surface, but also above it, creating a complementary canopy of hexagonal energy patterns 150 or more kilometers up and surrounding the world. The proliferating lines, resembling a fuzzy engineering wire-frame view, eventually obscured all detail.

  And then, just as abruptly, it switched off, and the central close-up view of the encampment and the ancient city returned.

  “Where is everybody?” Ari asked, feeling uneasy as he watched.

  The camp, the smoldering yacht, the ancient ruins, all those remained, but there was no sign of any energy pulses at all, and no sign, either, of any living thing.

  “It took guts for the Marines and Special Police to go down there, I’ll tell you,” the Inspector said in what had to be an understatement. “But go down they did.”

  They now had a view from one of the squad leader’s environment suit cameras. It came down very near the yacht, and was carrying a nasty rifle clearly designed not just
to singe, but to deep fry.

  “There are a number of dead bodies around, but you can identify them as having been hit in the assault,” the Inspector noted. “They all have clear breaches in their e-suits, or show signs of explosion damage. The half-dozen or so figures you saw running, though, are not there. Watch. You can see that the sergeant is following the grid the computer made during the attack so that he can trace precisely the route of those who fled. Now look—there! See?”

  The picture was of a body. The creature was definitely non-Terran, and appeared to be somewhat squidlike. It wasn’t a familiar shape, but anybody looking at the suit could interpolate the contours. And interpolate they would have to do, since it was sheared, at a diagonal, all the way across.

  “You can see the suit’s been cut completely in two,” O’Leary noted.

  “But where’s the other half, and whatever that thing was?” Ari asked.

  “Where, indeed? We suspect it’s with Josich and the other Hadun who completely and utterly vanished at the same moment. Where did they go? Vaporized, perhaps, but why? And why only the living ones? Swallowed? Again, perhaps, but there is no cavity below and we surveyed to over thirty kilometers down. Not even a shaft. Solid rock, mostly basalt at that point. But there’s one other possibility.”

  “Yes?”

  “Our computers monitored a sudden energy surge, very tight, a series of bursts and then nothing, shooting out from that very spot like a heavy particle beam weapon out into space. We are missing five people after inventorying them and their records. There were five pulses. The beams vanished—not dissipated, mind you—just beyond the energy shield you saw and not near any of our own ships. This has been reported before on or near these worlds. Normally just legends, or just a few people or even single individuals vanishing on or near these. This is the first time we actually observed and recorded it.”

  “And what do you think you saw, Inspector?” Jules Wallinchky asked him. “I’ve been here for years and have never seen nor experienced anything at all, let alone that sort of stuff.”

  “I think, possibly with the device, possibly in spite of it, we had our first confirmed contact between an Ancient Ones planetary brain and sentient life as we know it. There can only have been one thing in any of their minds at that moment—escape, flight, even panicky flight. Get away, go anywhere but here and we’ll work out the details later. They all were almost screaming in that energy grid or whatever it was they and we summoned up, and the desire was so clear, so simple, so basic, so unambiguous, and so in the data stream, that it could not be misinterpreted. The computer understood it on that level and got them out of there.”

  “But to where?” Ari asked him, aghast. “And how?”

  “Matter to energy is easy. We’ve been doing that since the discovery of fire,” O’Leary replied. “Energy to matter is a trick we’re still only playing with in the lab in very basic ways. Of course, plants do it all the time, and, to some extent, other living organisms do as well, but again, it’s not on the level of creating a new Adam and Eve, and certainly not on the level of turning, say, one of us into energy instantly, recording the code to reverse it as some kind of energy header, then shooting it somewhere else via some sort of dimensional gateways we can’t imagine, and reassembling, probably perfectly, on the other side. There’s chaos, y’see. Just enough randomly goes wrong to create either an imperfect copy or almost always a dead one. Add to that the losses inherent in any transmission and reception procedure, and you see why we’ve not come close. They figured it out, somehow. Got around chaos mathematics, got around transmission losses. It’s why you see their cities and such all over but you never see any sign of spaceports and the like. They didn’t need ’em. They just gave their world computers the address, no matter where it was, and it digitized and squirted them there easy as you please.”

  Jules Wallinchky sighed. “All right, Inspector, you’ve had your fun. You didn’t come here to show us that, which I have little if any interest in, or to give us lessons in physics and archaeology.”

  O’Leary smiled. “In that, sir, you are only half right. I did indeed come to tell you that story, and by it to illustrate that we’ve had little trouble getting Hadun’s people at their base world to speak volumes to us, even more when they see him disappear. Much of the computer record is currently still beyond our reach, but they recorded that little fling they had with the City of Modar, and they’d not taken the time to delete it from the frigate’s storage. More importantly, we have a nice view of the transactions with certain Rithians of the Ha’jiz Nesting. A fellow of your acquaintance named Teynal hadn’t yet had the time to have his mind laundered. There was considerable confirmation left in there, and we knew the codes to get at it from the Hadun tapes. They had to be in full possession of their faculties, y’see, to make the swap in the boat. In other words, sir, you finally overstepped yourself. I’ve no doubt you can prolong things, but if you can beat this one, then you are what Josich wanted to become and we might as well have it out in the open. I don’t think you are that powerful, though, as mighty as you are, or you’d never have let us land.”

  “I’ll destroy this, and my other collections, before I’ll allow anyone else to own them,” Jules Wallinchky warned, his mouth dry, his mind still calculating.

  The Inspector shrugged his massive shoulders. “Go ahead. I’ll lend you a knife right now and you can slash away. Or you can just order your two pretty androids there to do it. If, indeed, they are androids and not broken, mutilated, and reprogrammed people. If it’s discovered that they are not what you say, then nothing in the Realm can save you.”

  Wallinchky hardly heard his threat. “You would actually allow the utter destruction of all those works?” he said unbelievingly. “Those—Those are immortal. The sum total of genius and beauty from Old Earth for thousands of years past. Your heritage as well as mine. What do mere mortal lives mean compared to them? Hundreds, perhaps thousands, have died to preserve or to capture them. Wars were fought in ancient times over some of them. And you can so casually dismiss the likelihood of them being now gone forever?”

  O’Leary shrugged. “Well, now, I wasn’t the one who said I was gonna destroy ’em. Most of them are legal. All the ones out here now, I wager, have good, solid bills of sale. That’s how you can flaunt ’em. That means I can’t stop you doin’ anything you want with your own property. But, y’see, most folks will never see the real things. If they’re interested at all, they’ll see them in holographic viewings or purchase perfect copies. Most are too fragile to keep moving, particularly over these distances and worlds and conditions. So, go ahead.”

  “You think I won’t do it?”

  “It’s a waste, but there’s nothing I could do to stop you anyway. But if these things are as precious as you say, then it’s on your head that they’re destroyed, and yours alone. I’d say that those who do appreciate or envy these things would do one thing for you if you did. Even the best crooks and villains fade into oblivion, along with the heroes, too. But the man who destroyed half the great art of Old Earth for spite—now, that’s a name that would go down despised and disgusted till Judgment Day. What sort of a barbarian, they’d ask, would destroy all that in a fit of frenzy? How he must have hated beauty, too.”

  Jules Wallinchky looked the giant cop right in the eyes. “You bastard,” he said.

  “The two most fierce barbarian conqueror races of our kind were the Mongols and the Celts,” O’Leary replied with a slight smile. “And I’m the worst half of each one.”

  “I assume that the two of you didn’t just walk in here alone, either,” the boss said, probing.

  “Well, yes and no. Let’s just say that you could probably stay here quite a while, but you can only go where we wish you to go. That goes for everyone here, by the way. Since your planetary defenses are extremely good, you could, of course, remain here in some comfort, but we’ve blocked communication and we’ll interdict anything in and out, and you’re very much
off the beaten path, so any attempts to come here will be noted. You can kill yourself, and everyone else including us, I suppose, although what would be the point of it? And if we didn’t come out, then they’d eventually be forced to lob things into this compound whether we were killed or merely prisoners, and that would again destroy all this art and culture. I could be wrong, but I rather think you don’t have much choice.”

  “But I don’t need to decide my course of action immediately, and they’ll do everything to keep from blowing up this artwork,” Jules Wallinchky responded, thinking very analytically. “Since the trigger is doing something to you, then we have to show them that you’re all right. There are weapons on both of you sufficient to knock you cold, and those sweet little girls over there are strong enough to get even you back to your ship, perhaps with a maglev trolley we use to move sculpture and other heavy objects. I think you can spare us all by going back there of your own accord. Transmit and receive all you like, but don’t try taking off. The defense grid will prevent it.”

  “But what good will this do?” O’Leary asked him.

  Wallinchky was a great poker player. “That, Inspector, is for you to dwell on. But I will have no enemies inside here who can transmit or see what if anything I do decide to do, and you will be in contact with your people so they won’t come in. Now, sir—if you need anything, provisions, blankets, whatever—feel free to ask one of the girls or call it in. It might be a while before we go further.”

  Genghis O’Leary obviously had thought through almost every angle except this one, and his cheeks were getting red from anger, while his eyes looked as if they could drill holes in the others. Still, he and his silent, masked companion got to their feet and moved toward the door and the long hallway back.

  “Oh, Inspector—I should warn you. If the girls have to take either or both of you out, you’ll be delivered to your ship stark naked, the both of you, and with your knees smashed. It’s an old custom.”