The Spheres of Heaven tmp-2

by Charles Sheffield

  “I only found out myself a few minutes before we docked.”

  “Can you operate without him?”

  “If we have to. But it’s not that simple.” Chan outlined Deb Bisson’s position, and how the death of the Bun would affect her presence on the team.

  “So you’ve got problems to solve.” Korin stood up. “And so do I. The two of us have to talk.”

  “I don’t know that I have much to say. Not until I’ve had a chance to think about all this.”

  “Understood. But if you can’t talk, you can listen. Come on. This is important.”

  Korin led the way into the cavernous interior of the Hero’s Return . In the old days the cruiser had carried a military crew of nine hundred men and women. The ship’s exterior with its massive armor and reinforced hull was little changed from those glory days, but once inside you wandered through a ghost ship. Your voice echoed through bare-walled compartments, your footsteps rang along empty corridors. Chan found himself reluctant to speak, while Dag Korin apparently did not want any discussion until they had privacy. The two men drifted along in silence, past dark chambers that had once housed weapons able to turn whole asteroids to slag; past engines that could drive the eighty-thousand-ton mass at anything up to seven gees; past the chamber housing a computer as sophisticated as any ever built, able to control the vessel’s sensors, make autonomous decisions, and do whatever was needed to assure the safety of ship and crew; past the deserted quarters of that crew, where almost a thousand men and women had once exercised, eaten, and slept.

  Dag Korin, with the pick of the whole ship available to him, apparently preferred simplicity. He continued on, beyond the section that had once housed the captain and the senior officers, until they came to a set of smaller rooms tucked away beside the ship’s main control room. And there, at the very end of a corridor, Chan saw a tall form in a powder-blue work suit, lounging against a door painted a bilious green.

  He heard Dag Korin’s surprised grunt, in the same moment as Chan recognized the blond hair and anorexic face of Elke Siry.

  “I believe you already met my ward,” Korin said to Chan. And then, to the woman, “What are you doing here, Elke? I thought you were getting us ready for Link transition.”

  My ward? Dag Korin had said nothing about that at their first meeting. But the woman was speaking. “I was.” There was no mistaking the high-pitched, nervous voice, with its trace of a lisp. “But I have disturbing information, matters that I must discuss with you.”

  “You, too? Looks like it’s bad news all round.” Korin opened the door. “We’d better go inside.”

  The room they entered was simply furnished even by the standards of Earth’s Gallimaufries. Console, disk-case, small couch, writing desk, bureau, and chair, all without decoration or added niceties. Chan squeezed onto the couch next to Elke Siry, and noticed how she jerked urgently away when his hip accidentally came into contact with hers. Dag Korin went across to the metal bureau in one corner and returned with a box housing a dozen plastic bottles, each the size and shape of a small pear.

  “Calvados?” He sat down on a hard chair opposite them. “I can personally recommend it.”

  Chan hesitated, then shook his head. Elke took one of the bottles, opened the cap with her thumbnail, and sucked down the contents in one long gulp. She was reaching for another when Korin pulled the box away.

  “Talk first. If it’s as bad as you say, maybe we’ll sit here and drink the lot together. Now, Elke, what’s the problem?” Korin caught Elke Siry’s rapid sideways glance at Chan. “Don’t worry, my dear, he’s in this as deep as we are. If I can hear it, so can he.”

  “All right.” But Elke Siry’s face suggested to Chan that she thought it was far from all right. She bit her lip, shook her head from side to side so that her long blond tresses swung about her thin face, and burst out, “It’s the Link point. The one in the Geyser Swirl.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’ve wondered about it ever since I heard it existed. I mean, how could there be a Link in the network that no one knew about before? A Link is a spacetime anomaly. It pops out at you on any connectivity survey in a way you can’t miss.”

  “We missed this one.”

  “No. I don’t think we did. I believe that it wasn’t there to be observed on any previous survey.”

  “Hm.” Korin raised grizzled eyebrows at Chan. “Did you ever hear of anything like that? A Link entry and exit point that comes and goes?”

  “I didn’t know such a thing was possible. Link points are permanent features. Aren’t they?”

  Chan thought that he had offered a mild and reasonable response. He was not ready for the way that Elke blushed bright red, or for her breathless outburst: “Then that just proves how much you don’t know. Links can be created — and destroyed. How much scientific training have you had?”

  “Very little.”

  “How much?”

  “Well, none.” Chan held up his hands defensively. “Dr. Siry, I wasn’t arguing with you. I’m just telling you what I’ve been told.”

  It didn’t seem to help. She was as nervous and intense as ever, the absolute opposite of Dag Korin, who gave the impression he had seen it all before and found it no more shocking this time around.

  “But there’s worse,” Elke said abruptly. “We had word today from the Angels. They have some way of monitoring the existence of the Link point in the Geyser Swirl. That Link wasn’t there a year ago, and it wasn’t there yesterday. But it was there two months ago, and now it’s there again. It comes and goes in a totally unpredictable way.”

  Chan decided that it was nothing personal. Elke Siry wasn’t angry with him, she was angry with a universe that didn’t behave as it was supposed to.

  He asked, “Is that what happened to the other expeditions? They tried to go to a Link network point that wasn’t there?”

  “No. If a Link exit point isn’t available, the jump won’t take place. The same will be true of us. If the Link isn’t there, our ship won’t be able to make the transition.”

  “Then what does it mean, so far as we are concerned?”

  Again a rapid flush of color came to her cheeks. “I’m not sure. But I think we may pass through when the Link is open, and then find ourselves unable to get back. We could become stranded, somewhere in the Geyser Swirl. Maybe that’s what happened to the other expeditions. One thing’s very clear. This Link is nothing like the ones that we are used to. Whoever made it isn’t a member of the Stellar Group.”

  “Which means what we’ll be doing is even more dangerous than it sounds,” Dag Korin said quietly. “All right, Elke. That gives me my cue. I had my own conversation today with a consortium of Stellar Group members. Seems they’re still worried that when we’re where they can’t keep an eye on us, in spite of what they’ve told us we’ll behave like naughty boys and girls. They gave me another severe warning: no matter what happens, we must not kill any beings who may be intelligent. When in doubt, we are to err on the side of nonviolence. I said, suppose that the aliens try to kill us? I was told, do whatever you can to save yourselves, but your actions may not include the use of lethal force. If this command is not obeyed, you, Dag Korin, will be held personally responsible.”

  Chan said, “In other words, if we’re attacked we’re supposed to lie down and die?”

  “Exactly.” The General winked, so quickly it might have been no more than an accidental blink of one blue eye. “Now I’m just going to talk a little at the pair of you. Dalton, you’ve probably been wondering why an old fogy like me, long past retirement, was put in charge of such an important expedition. Oh, don’t bother to deny it, I’ve seen the look on your face. Ancient, asleep half the time, doesn’t know what’s going on. Isn’t that about it? And maybe you’re right, and I’m past it. But I do know one or two things.

  “One of them I learned a long time ago, at Capella’s Drift. It’s as true now as it was then: a military genius who’s a lightyear awa
y from the action is likely to make worse mistakes than the average joe or jill on the spot. Just to make it quite clear what I’m getting at, we’re going to be on the spot when we get to the Geyser Swirl. Not the Pipe-Rillas. Not the Tinkers. Not those damned brainy cabbages that people call the Angels. Us .

  “But don’t let me get carried away on the subject of aliens, because there’s one other thing I have to say that’s even more important to me than cussing out the members of the Stellar Group. It’s this: I hate to lose people. If there’s any way on earth or heaven that it can be avoided, the members of my crew aren’t going to die, no matter what alien garbage has to get killed along the way to prevent it.

  “No Stellar Group members are going to be in the Geyser Swirl to keep an eye on what we get up to there. If anything is ever discovered, by some method I can’t imagine, I propose to assume full personal responsibility for violence. I don’t give a damn what aliens — or humans — do to me. You know what they say about old soldiers. Well, if I have to I won’t fade away. I’d rather go down in flames and in disgrace than see our people killed.”

  Korin stood up. “Right. I’ve said my bit, and I don’t propose to repeat it. We’re going, and we’re coming back, as many as possible, and damn all aliens. Now let’s get the show on the road and prepare this rustbucket for Link transit.”

  Elke stood up, but Chan did not move. The General glared at him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.” Chan wondered about Korin’s short-term memory. “I thought we were going to discuss my problem.”

  “Your problem?”

  Hadn’t the General understood anything of what Chan had said earlier? “Yes. You know. The problem with Deb Bisson.”

  “Didn’t she tell you that she would arrive on board before the deadline?”

  “Yes. She may be here already.”

  “Then you don’t have a problem. You tell her the arrangement with the rest of your team members went just the way that you planned it. When we have left Earth orbit and are on our way to the Link entry point, you can tell her the truth. By then it will be too late for her to leave.” Korin saw the look on Chan’s face, and smiled. “Come on, man. I thought you said she hated your guts?”

  “Not just my guts. All of me.”

  “So she finds out you didn’t exactly tell her the truth.” Korin ushered them toward the door. “So what? She’s on the way to the Swirl. Do you think Deb Bisson can hate you any more than she already does?”

  The door closed, leaving the general inside and Chan and Elke Siry once more in the corridor. She seemed in no hurry to leave. She lounged against the wall, in the same pose as when Chan and Dag Korin had arrived, and stared at him speculatively. She said, “Why does this woman, Deb Bisson, hate you?”

  An odd question, from someone billed as the project scientist. But they were all going to be working together on a dangerous mission, and the more they understood each other, the better. Chan, for the second time in as many hours, summarized the deal that he had made with Deb when he was on Europa. If she would come along, he had guaranteed the whole rest of the team.

  When he was finished Elke Siry leaned on the wall and stared at nothing, until Chan wondered if he had become inaudible and invisible.

  At last she said, “Your explanation is nonsense. You are omitting essential data. Why does she really hate you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then tell me of the previous times that the pair of you met, before your recent encounter on Europa.”

  She had no right in the world to ask for such information, and Chan had no reason to provide it to her. But he found the words spilling out, recalling things that had happened many years before. When he finished, Elke Siry nodded slowly.

  “I have never met your friend Deb Bisson. I have hardly met you. However.” Elke’s red lips parted, to reveal sharp white incisors and slightly pronounced canines. “However, if you had done to me what you did to her, I would tear out your throat the next time that we met.

  “Deb Bisson is a kind, forgiving woman, ever to speak to you again.”

  15: A HELPING HAND FOR

  TINKERS AND PIPE-RILLAS

  It was difficult to keep the Mood Indigo exactly balanced on its thrustors, and the ship was almost imperceptibly descending. It was also drifting slowly closer to the Pipe-Rilla vessel sitting on the seabed.

  The crew of that other ship had been less lucky than Bony and his companions. Their vessel was longer than the Mood Indigo , and less of its mass was at the rear end. Instead of settling down stern-first and remaining upright, it had toppled onto its side. Any occupants now had to deal with a ship where floors and walls had switched roles.

  There was no doubt in Bony’s mind that this was a vessel built by Pipe-Rillas. They followed the “decorated” school of ship design, their thought processes apparently dominated by “Hey, look, here’s another place on the hull where we can attach a gadget.” Close up, the ship’s exterior was bumped and lumped and pocked and knotted, draped with grapplers and thrustors and sensors.

  And clearly there were beings inside. Bony was now close enough to see the tableau on the sea floor. The fourteen bubble-creatures had formed a semicircle around one side of the Pipe-Rilla ship. Two suited human figures, who must be Liddy Morse and Friday Indigo, stood close to the center of the half-circle, right next to the ship. They were facing what was presumably a port, and one of them was gesturing toward the rounded upper part of the hull.

  Without exchanging a word with anyone, Bony could guess at the problem. The Pipe-Rilla ship, like the Mood Indigo , possessed airlocks. But those locks were useless if their outer hatches opened at the top. In space it made no difference, but here under water you needed a hatch at the bottom, so that all the air in the lock did not escape when the hatch was opened. And again, Friday Indigo’s ship had been lucky. Of the three airlocks, one of them had been situated with the outer hatch at the bottom. The Pipe-Rilla vessel had been less fortunate. Bony could see four airlocks, but not one of them had the right position for the outer hatch. The hatches sat at the top of the locks. A Pipe-Rilla who used the lock to leave the ship would have great trouble getting back in. It was a fair guess that the crew had been stranded on board ever since they arrived on Limbo.

  Bony was willing to make another bet. Even with the Mood Indigo hovering less than fifty meters away from them, neither Friday Indigo nor Liddy would be able to think of any way to help the stranded Pipe-Rillas.

  But Bony could.

  First, though, he needed to talk to them. Normally that would be trivial for two ships so close together, but here in Limbo’s ocean the surrounding water damped electromagnetic signals. It had to be a direct cable connect, or something much more old-fashioned: talking in person.

  Bony’s arrival had not gone unnoticed. One of the suited human figures was waving, but whether in greeting or irritation Bony could not tell. The bubble people, showing more sense than the humans, had retreated to the other side of the Pipe-Rilla ship and were peeping cautiously around the hull. They had the right idea. Even with low thrust, the auxiliary drives would be dangerous if you got too close to the exhausts.

  With that in mind, Bony took the Mood Indigo sideways, away from the other ship, until there was a clear two hundred meters between them. Then he killed all horizontal thrust and gradually decreased the vertical drive. The Mood Indigo made a smooth and sedate landing on the flat seabed. When Bony was sure that it stood in a stable position he cut all thrust.

  He had not removed his suit since first lifting the ship away from the seabed. All he needed to do was snap the helmet into position and move to the airlock. The usual nervousness as he waited for the lock to cycle and lowered himself into the water was replaced by impatience.

  The sea bottom was quite different here. The sharp but fragile spears that had surrounded the Mood Indigo at its original location were replaced by fleshy pink fingers that reached to waist height and beyond. Bony assumed
at first that they were plants — except that as he moved they had the disconcerting habit of reaching toward him, touching his suit, then flinching away. He picked his way carefully through them, across a narrow level plain and then up and down a sudden and unexpected incline. The fingers touched him delicately, in unexpected places, but always quickly backed off.

  Friday Indigo and Liddy Morse had turned away from the Pipe-Rilla ship and were waiting for him as he approached. Direct speech would serve when they were within a few feet of each other, and Indigo didn’t waste time in getting down to business.

  He bellowed, “I thought I told you to stay with the ship.”

  “I did stay with the ship. It’s right there.”

  “But I meant — oh, what the hell. We couldn’t get sense from the bubble-brains, but they led us to this.” Indigo reached out to touch the hull of the Pipe-Rilla ship. At the same time, Liddy grabbed Bony’s arm and gave it a welcoming squeeze.

  “Are they alive?” Bony asked. He had taken a quick look through the port of the ship, and seen only an inexplicable whirlwind of movement within.

  “Oh, they’re alive all right.” Indigo sounded more irritated than pleased. Bony could see why. Living Pipe-Rillas meant that the Mood Indigo was not the first Stellar Group to contact the Limbics. Therefore, Friday Indigo would have no unique position in the history books.

  “How many are on board?”

  “How many?” Indigo’s face was hard to see through the suit visor, but his voice was puzzled. “How the hell should I know? I don’t see how you could count them even if you wanted to. Thousands, I guess.”

  Bony, after his own moment of bewilderment, understood Indigo’s answer. It was not just Pipe-Rillas. There must also be a Tinker Composite on board. Bony had never actually seen one, but he definitely wanted to because he had read about them for over thirty years.

  More than ever, he was curious to see the inside of the Pipe-Rilla ship. But his bright idea for getting the aliens in and out needed review. Just how did a Tinker deal with an airlock? It had to be in terms of the whole Composite because individual components were not intelligent until they clustered. What sort of suit was right for a being with no stable shape?