Giant's Star g-3

by James P. Hogan

  She took a deep breath, bit her lip nervously, walked over to the door, inched it open, and listened. Everything seemed still. As she let herself out into the passage a half-stifled giggle came from behind the door opposite. She stopped for a second; there was no other sound, and she moved quietly on toward the central part of the house.

  The passage led through a small den into a large, central, open room that rose the full height of the building, one side a sloping wall of glass panels facing the rear of the house. The room was elbow-shaped, thickly carpeted, and had a sunken floor in front of a large fireplace of brickwork, with areas of raised floors around it angling away to openings and stairways which gave access to other parts of the house.

  Muffled voices and kitchen noises were coming from one of the corridors, but she didn’t detect any sign of Sverenssen’s domestic staff in her immediate vicinity. She slowly examined the furnishings, ornaments, the pictures on the walls, and the fittings overhead, but found nothing that looked out of place. After pausing to replay her mental model of the layout, she picked out a narrow corridor that seemed to lead toward the office wing and followed it.

  Eventually, after exploring the system of rooms that the corridor brought her to, most of which she had already seen in the course of the quick tour that Sverenssen had given her, she came back to what seemed to be the only door anywhere that opened through into the office wing. She tried the handle gently, but it was locked, as she had expected. When she tapped it with a knuckle, the sound it produced was flat and solid, even from the parts that looked like ordinary wood panels. They might have been wood on the surface, but there was a lot of something else underneath; that door had been put there to keep out a lot more than just drafts. Without a rock drill or an army demolition squad, she wasn’t going to get any farther in that direction, so she turned to go back to the center part of the house. As she began moving, she recalled one of the sculptures that she had seen in the central room. It hadn’t really struck her at the time, but now as she thought about it again, she realized that there had been something vaguely familiar about it. Surely not, she thought as she tried to visualize it again in her mind. There was no way it could be possible. She frowned, and her pace quickened a fraction.

  The piece was standing in an illuminated recess on one side of the brick fireplace-an abstract form rendered in some kind of silver and gold translucent crystal, about eight inches high and mounted on a solid black base. At least, when she glanced over it casually a few minutes earlier she had thought it to be abstract. But now as she picked it up and turned it slowly over in her hands, she became more convinced than ever that its form couldn’t be simply a coincidence.

  Its lowermost part was a composition of surfaces and shapes that could have meant anything, but projecting up from the center to form the main body of the design was a tapering column of finely carved terraces, levels, and intervening buttresses flowing upward in distinctive curves. Could it represent a tower? she wondered. A tower that she had seen not long ago. Three slim spires continued upward from the top of the main column-three spires supporting a circular disk just below their apexes. A platform? The disk had more finely cut details on its surface. She turned the sculpture over. . . . and gasped. There were more details, defining a readily discernible pattern of concentric rings-on the underside of the platform! She was looking at a representation of the central tower of the city of Vranix. It couldn’t possibly be. But it couldn’t be anything else.

  Her hand was shaking as she carefully replaced the sculpture in its recess. What the hell had she gotten herself into? she asked herself. Her first urge was to go back to her room, collect her things, and get out fast; but as she forced herself to calm down and her mind to think more clearly, she fought back the feeling. The opportunity to learn more was unique, and it would never present itself again. If there were more, nobody might ever know unless she found it now. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath to summon up her reserves of nervous energy to see it through.

  She had to find out more about the office wing, but there seemed no way to get inside. Maybe she could get nearer in some other way. . . . under it, perhaps? A house like this would surely have cellars. There would probably be stairs somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. She moved across to the end of the corridor leading that way; voices were still audible, but they sounded closed off. Two doors proved to be closets. The third that she tried revealed a flight of wooden stairs going down. She entered, eased the door shut behind her, and descended.

  The cellar that she found herself in looked ordinary, with a bench and some tool racks, a storage space, and lots of pipes and conduits. Machinery of some kind, probably a central air conditioner, was humming behind a louvered door to one side. Two other cellars opened off from this one, one in each direction of the two arms of the house; she moved on into the one leading toward the office wing. It was another storage area, full of boxes and leftover decorating materials. A partition wall with a gap in its center screened off the far end. Lyn crossed the area and peered through the gap. The cellar did not continue on beneath the office wing, but ended at a bare wall on the far side of the small space behind the partition. As Lyn looked around and studied the surroundings, she realized that the part of the cellars she had entered was strangely different from the rest structurally, particularly the blank wall facing her.

  The line where the wall and ceiling met was formed by a steel girder that must have measured fifteen inches across the flange at least, and it was supported by two more, equally massive members running down the corners and terminating in what looked like solid concrete foundations partly visible along the lower part of the walls and going down into the floor. The ceiling, too, was reinforced with girders and cross-ties gusseted at the angles. All was painted white to blend in with the general background of the other cellar rooms, and the casual visitor would probably never have noticed; but to somebody who was looking for the unusual and who had a special interest in that end of the house, the heavy structures stood out unmistakably.

  So the office wing itself was not over any part of the cellars but was built on solid ground, and she was looking at one side of its foundation and underpinning. It was built from materials and in a fashion that would have supported a battleship. What could there be upstairs that would have crushed the foundations of an ordinary house and had made all this necessary? she wondered.

  And then she remembered the holes she had seen punched through the concrete at McClusky.

  A Thurien interstellar communications system contained a microscopic, artificially generated, black-hole toroid when it was switched on and operating.

  But that idea was even more insane. The house had been built ten years before. Nobody had heard of the Ganymeans, let alone Thurien, in 2021.

  She backed slowly away from the partition and turned dazedly back toward the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs she stopped for a while to give the thumping in her chest time to slow down and to bring her reeling mind under some kind of control. Then she opened the door a fraction and brought her eye close to it just in time to catch a glimpse of Sverenssen moving out of sight behind an angle in the wall back near the corner room. He had been turning his head from side to side as he moved, as if he were looking for something . . . or somebody. Lyn immediately erupted into a new spasm of shaking and shivering. Suddenly Navcomms and Houston seemed very far away. If she ever got out of this, she’d never want to leave the coziness of her own office again.

  If Sverenssen was looking for her, he would already have tried knocking on the door of her room. The part of her that felt guilty told her that she needed a reason for not being there. She thought for a few seconds, then let herself out into the corridor and went the other way, into the kitchen. A minute later she reemerged holding a cup of coffee and began making her way back to the guest section of the house.

  "Oh, there you are." Sverenssen’s voice sounded from behind her when she was halfway across one o
f the raised floors around the periphery of the corner room. She froze; had she done anything else, the coffee and the cup would have been all over the carpet. Sverenssen came out of one of the side rooms as she turned to face him. He was still wearing his bathing trunks, but had put sandals on his feet and thrown a shirt loosely over his shoulder. He was eying her uncertainly, as if he were mildly suspicious about something but not sufficiently sure of himself to be direct.

  "I went to get some coffee," she said, as if it weren’t obvious. Immediately she felt like the classical dumb broad; but at least she managed to stop herself from following up her statement with an inane laugh. She was certain that Sverenssen was looking past her shoulder at the sculpture in its recess. She could picture it in her mind’s eye with a neon sign in six-inch letters above shouting, "I HAVE BEEN MOVED." Somehow she resisted the compulsion to turn her head.

  "I wouldn’t have thought that somebody from Houston would be bothered by the sun," he remarked. "Especially somebody with a tan like yours." His voice was superficially casual, but had an undertone that invited an explanation.

  For a second or two she felt trapped. Then she said, "I just wanted to get away for a while. Your friend. . . Larry, was starting to come on a bit strong. I guess I need time to get used to this."

  Sverenssen looked at her dubiously, as if she had just confirmed his fears about something. "Well, I do hope you manage to loosen up a little before too much longer," he said. "I mean, the whole idea of being here is to enjoy oneself. It would be such a shame if one person allowed her inhibitions to ruin the atmosphere for everyone else, wouldn’t it?"

  Despite her confusion, Lyn couldn’t keep a sharp edge out of her voice. "Look . . . I didn’t exactly come here expecting this," she told him. "You never said anything about playing musical people."

  A pained expression came over Sverenssen’s face. "Oh dear, I do hope you’re not going to start preaching any middle-class morals. What did you expect? I said I would be entertaining some friends, and I expect them to be entertained and made to feel welcome in a manner appropriate to their tastes."

  "Their tastes? That’s very nice of you. They must love you for it. What about my tastes?"

  "Are you suggesting that my acquaintances fail to come up to your standards? How amusing. You’ve already made your tastes quite plain-you aspire to luxury and the company that goes with it. Well, you have them. Surely you don’t expect anything in this life to come free."

  "I didn’t expect to be treated like a piece of candy to be dangled in front of those overgrown kids out there."

  "You’re talking like an adolescent. Do I not have a right to expect you, as my guest, to behave sociably in return for my hospitality? Or did you imagine that I was some kind of a philanthropist who opens his home to the world for reasons of pure charity? I can assure you that I am nothing of the kind, and neither is anybody else who has the intelligence to understand the realities of life."

  "Who said anything about charity? Doesn’t respect for people come into it anywhere?"

  Sverenssen sneered. Evidently it didn’t. "Another middle-class opiate. All I can say to you is that whatever fantasies you have been harboring appear to have been sadly unfounded." He sighed and shrugged, apparently having already dismissed the matter as a lost cause. "The opportunity is yours to enjoy a life quite free from worries financial or otherwise, but seizing it requires that you throw off a lot of silly protective notions left over from childhood and make a pragmatic assessment of your situation."

  Lyn’s eyes blazed, but she managed to keep her voice under control. "I think I just made it." Her tone said the rest.

  Sverenssen appeared indifferent. "In that case I suggest that you call yourself a cab without further delay and return to your world of misplaced romanticism and unfulfillable dreams," he said. "It really makes no difference to me. I can get somebody else here within the hour. The choice is entirely yours."

  Lyn stood absolutely still until she had fought down the urge to hurl her coffee in his face. Then she turned away and, mustering the effort to maintain her calm, walked off in the direction of her room. Sverenssen followed her coldly with his eyes for a few seconds, then shrugged contemptuously and hurried out through a side door to rejoin the others at the pool.

  Two hours later Lyn was sitting in a Washington-bound plane beside the CIA agent who had accompanied her to New York. Around them sat families, couples, people alone, and people together; some were dressed in business suits, some in jackets, and others in casual shirts, sweaters, and jeans. They were talking, laughing, reading, and sleeping-just ordinary, sane, civilized people, minding their own business. She wanted to hug every one of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In the illusory world of VISAR’s creations, Karen Heller was half a billion miles tall and floating in space. A loosely coupled binary system of Ping-Pong-ball-sized stars, one yellow and one white, was revolving slowly in front of her while a myriad more glowed as pinpoints of light in the infinite blackness stretching away on every side. The center of mass of the two stars was located at one of the foci of a highly elongated ellipse, superposed on the view by VISAR, tracing the orbit of the planet Surio.

  Hanging in space beside Helter and looking like some cosmic god contemplating the material universe as if it were a plaything, Danchekker extended an arm to point at the planet sliding along its trajectory in VISAR’s speeded-up simulation. "The conditions that Surio encounters at opposite ends of the ellipse are completely different," he said. "At one end it’s in close proximity to both its suns and therefore very hot; at the other it’s remote from them and therefore quite cool. Its year alternates between a long oceanic phase during the cool period, and an equally long hot phase during which Surio possesses practically no hydrosphere at all. Eesyan tells me it’s unique among the worlds that the Thuriens have discovered so far."

  "It’s fascinating," Heller said, enthralled. "And you’re saying that life has emerged there despite those conditions. It sounds impossible."

  "I thought so too," Danchekker told her. "Eesyan had to show me this before I’d believe otherwise. That was what I wanted to show you. Let’s go down and take a closer look at the planet itself."

  They seemed to be rushing toward Surio as VISAR responded to the verbal cue. The stars vanished away behind them, and the planet grew rapidly and swelled into a sphere that flattened out beneath them as they descended from the sky. It was in a cool, oceanic phase, and as they plunged downward they shrank in size so that the sea stretching from horizon to horizon looked normal.

  Then they were underwater, with strange alien life forms swimming and twisting in the ocean around them.

  A black, fishlike creature, vaguely reminiscent of some shark species, seemed to single itself out, their viewpoint moving progressively as they followed it. Then, as VISAR altered the content of the information being injected into their visual systems, the body and soft tissues of the creature became a translucent haze to reveal clearly the structure of its skeleton. The light filtering through the water from above went out suddenly, then came on again, then continued to flicker steadily like a slow-motion stroboscope. The image of the fish remained motionless in front of them. "Day and night cycles," Danchekker explained in answer to Heller’s questioning look. "VISAR is speeding them up and freezing this image artificially so that we can observe it. Have you noticed yet that the intensity of the daylight periods is increasing?"

  Heller had. She also noticed that the creature’s skeleton was beginning to change subtly. Its spine was shortening and getting thicker, and the bones inside its fins were elongating and differentiating into clearly discernible jointed segments. Also, the fins were slowly migrating toward the creature’s underside. "What’s happening there?" she asked, pointing.

  "It’s an adaptation that I thought you might be interested in seeing," Danchekker replied. "The year is growing warmer, and the oceans around us have begun evaporating rapidly." VISAR obligingly raised them high abo
ve the surface again to confirm the statement. The face of the planet had already changed beyond recognition since their arrival. The oceans had retreated to a series of steep-sided basins, uncovering broad shelves that now connected into vast land masses what had previously been scattered islands and minor continents. Carpets of vegetation were creeping outward behind the receding shorelines and upward into what had been barren mountainous regions. A dense cloud blanket had formed, from which continuous rains were drenching the highlands.

  They watched the surface transformation continue for a while, and then descended once more to follow local events in a shallow estuary formed where a river draining water from the rainy areas inland had carved a trench across the exposed continental shelf to one of the diminishing ocean basins. The creature that they had studied previously was now an amphibian living on the mud flats, with rudimentary legs already functioning and a fully differentiated, mobile head. "It dissolves its bones by means of specially secreted fluids triggered by environmental cues, and grows a new skeleton more suited to an existence in its changed environment," Danchekker commented. "Quite remarkable."

  To Heller this seemed an overly drastic solution. "Couldn’t it stay a fish and simply move out into the oceans?" she asked.

  "Very soon there won’t be any oceans," Danchekker told her. "Wait and see."

  The oceans shrank into isolated pools surrounded by mud, and then dried up completely. As the climate grew hotter the rivers from the highlands became trickles as they flowed downhill, finally evaporating away before reaching the basins, and what had been the seabeds turned into deserts. The vegetation receded across the shelves until it had been reduced to scattered oases of life clinging doggedly to the highest plateaus and mountain peaks. The creature had migrated upward and was now a fully adapted land dweller with a scaly skin and prehensile forelimbs, not unlike some of the earliest terrestrial reptiles. "Now it’s in its fully transformed state," Danchekker said. "As Surio goes through a year, the animal cycles are repeated from one extreme of morphology to the other. An amazing example of how tenacious life can be under adverse conditions, wouldn’t you agree?"