“I suggested it to them, and confirmed the fact when I came here. Although you may have the data needed to return to your own universe, you lack a suitable vehicle in which to do so. This was my suspicion before I came aboard this ship, and it is evident by observation. Space vessels do not take kindly to a sea environment.
“Fifth, this planet itself, while supporting life, is an unsuitable long-term base for operations. Its principal defects are as follows …”
As Friday spoke, Liddy was watching him closely. Finally she leaned close to Bony and breathed in his ear, “He’s changed. He speaks differently, and there’s something peculiar about him.”
“There sure as hell is,” Bony hissed back. “He’s a t-traitor to his own species. He s-sold us out — to a bunch of smart lobsters!”
“I don’t mean that. I mean the way he looks.”
“He looks like shit!”
“I don’t mean that, either. I mean the way he looks at me. When we hadn’t been around each other for a couple of days, he always had that — well, you know, that leer , like he’d bought me and he owned me. But now he looks—”
“Don’t tell me how he looks! He’s a lecherous bastard. If he touches you—”
“Bony! Not now.” Others in the room were looking their way. Only Friday Indigo, smiling serenely, seemed not to notice.
“So there is ample basis for cooperation,” he was saying. “If you do as The One suggests, and guide the People — safely — through the Link to your own universe, you will be granted your lives and your freedom. Those of your party who are now held captive will be released and returned to you. However, if you refuse to cooperate, The One will be forced to regard you as an enemy of the People. Your survival, on this world or elsewhere, will then be highly improbable. The technology of the People is far in advance of anything known to humans, or to any others of the Stellar Group. For example, the People possess full control of gravity. That permits their Links to be placed on the surface of planets, and their interstellar ships to land on or leave from there. They also possess weapons far beyond any that you have ever seen. The device which annihilated your orbiters could with equal ease destroy this ship. It is impossible not to admire and bow down to the superior powers of the People.”
He stood up, apparently unaware of the expressions of disbelief and disgust on the faces of his audience, and continued, “Even when you agree to become allies of the People, many details will still remain to be worked out. It was my task tonight only to come here and propose a way in which you might serve the People to your and their advantage. I will leave now.”
“Now wait a minute.” Chan had been watching Dag Korin. The General was red in the face and seemed beyond speech. Chan went on, “You can’t just say your piece and run away. We have to talk more about this. I have questions — we all have questions.”
“There will be an opportunity for you to ask questions through your chosen representative. But not now. I have been here for too long, and The One awaits my return. I must go.”
“It’s night on the surface. An hour or two more won’t make any difference.”
“I must go.” Friday limped toward the door. “Have your talks. I can find my own way to the airlock and back to the shore without assistance. Tomorrow, you will send two people with your answer. One will be your representative, who will be privileged to meet with The One. The Malacostracans would prefer that you, General Korin, as group leader, be that representative, but they do not insist on it since you must enforce discipline here.” He pointed to Deb Bisson. “She will be the other, to serve only as guide. She will lead you to the place on the shore where we left, and we will meet at midday exactly. Now I must go.”
“This is ridiculous,” Chan said. “At the very least—”
His words were drowned out by the powerful voice of the Angel’s synthesizer. “Let Friday Indigo go. Do not seek to delay his departure.”
“That is right. I must go ,” said Friday, and left the chamber.
“Do not try to accompany him.” Gressel was at maximum extension, fronds unfolded and wildly waving. Chan, all set to chase after Friday Indigo, jerked to a halt.
“Why not? What’s going on?”
“We just had a meeting with a low-down, treacherous swine,” Dag Korin said. “That’s what’s going on. He sold out the whole human race.” Korin stood up and walked across to bang his fist on the wall. “The bag of slime, in my day he’d have been put up against a wall and shot.”
He glared at the Angel. “Yes, he damned well would, and should, and good riddance to him, and I don’t care what you and the rest of the Stellar Group think. There’s nothing worse than somebody who betrays his own people. Surely even you can see that.”
“We can.” Gressel spoke at normal volume. “Angels and humans may be very different, but we are alike in this: We find it difficult to abide one who turns loyalty away from its own kind, and offers that loyalty toward another.”
“Well, that’s exactly what Friday Indigo is doing.”
“No. Friday Indigo did not betray humans—”
“Of course he did!”
“ — because the being who came here tonight was not human.”
“Of course he’s human! He wasn’t on an official human expedition, but he came here from Earth with Bony Rombelle and Liddy Morse, on the Mood Indigo. Ask them.”
“We see no reason to doubt that. But Friday Indigo is not human. He is alien.”
“You’re mistaken. He’s as human as I am.”
“No. We are completely sure. It takes one to know one. The being who spoke to us tonight is as different from humankind as any Angel. We say again, Friday Indigo has become alien.”
Liddy gasped and said, “I told you so!” Dag Korin stood frozen against the wall. Elke Siry clutched convulsively at Tully O’Toole, her fingernails cutting into his arm. The rest of the room sat like statues.
“How is that possible?” Korin said at last.
“We are less sure of this. However, we suspect that a scan of Friday Indigo’s brain would reveal the presence of something which is found in no other human. A type of Malacostracan, perhaps an embryonic form, resides there.” The Angel turned slowly and clumsily on its base, so that the speech unit faced the wall where Bony Rombelle and Liddy Morse were sitting. “You spent many Earth weeks with Friday Indigo. Did he display any special talent for alien languages?”
“None at all,” Bony said. Liddy added, “He despises aliens. To him, aliens are bugs or vegetables — I’m sorry, but that’s what he said. I can’t imagine him learning any alien language.”
“And yet, the being who spoke to us understands the needs and desires of the Malacostracans, well enough to be trusted to negotiate on their behalf. In evaluating what was said tonight, do not think of the Malacostracan proposal as presented by a human. Call him Friday Indigo if you wish, but recognize that he is now no more than a communications device. We believe that literal truth was spoken, with the words, I must go. The creature in this room was obeying an overriding imperative which could not be denied.”
“Orders from The One — whatever that is.” Chan had learned something long ago in his dealings with the Angels. When an Angel said it was sure of something, that implied a level of certainty beyond anything offered by a human. “And The One wants our answer tomorrow. By that time, we’d better have a plan of our own.”
30: IN THE DARK
“Not very smart.” Tarbush Hanson squatted on the floor, holding his head. “Deb tells us not to go near the camp, so what do we do?”
“I think she might have done the same.” Chrissie was feeling her right shoulder, which had taken most of the impact when she pitched forward unconscious onto rocky ground. “I mean, when you see a man grinning and waving to you, and you are pretty sure that you know who he is …”
They were speaking in whispers. The room was half dark, shaped like a long teardrop with a keyhole opening, eight feet tall and half as wide, at the far e
nd. In the chamber beyond, crab-like figures clicked across the floor and seemed to take no notice of Chrissie and Tarbush; but two of them carried black canes, and neither human was keen to risk another jolt. Muscls spasms from the last time still resonated in every limb.
They had awakened at almost the same moment and spent the first few mindless minutes staring up at a ceiling spangled with flecks of light. It was just as well that they were faceup, because shallow water lapped at the back of their heads. Tarbush’s groan, when first he tried to move, told Chrissie that he was just a few feet away with his head down near her feet. They sat up slowly, shivering, moving closer together and leaning against each other for support.
“Thank God for the suits,” Chrissie said. “Otherwise we’d be soaked and freezing. It’s cold in here. Any idea where we are? The last thing I remember, we were outdoors and it was bright daylight.”
“It’s night, unless my helmet readout is on the blink. And we’re inside a building. But not too far inside, because there’s fresh air coming from somewhere. I can smell those plants. Do you still have your stuff on you?”
Chrissie felt inside her suit to her pockets and the hidden pouches. “Yeah. Either they didn’t know I had it, or more likely they don’t care. I’m not sure a few magic tricks would be much use against those zapper canes. Even if they are, this is the wrong time to try anything. It’s going to be up to you, Tarb. Are you getting anything?”
“Nothing that we can use so far.” He was staring intently through the keyhole-shaped doorway at the creatures beyond. “Three different sizes, but all with the same body type. I was right about the definite pecking order. Postures give it away. There’s an inferior/superior relation among them, with the smallest ones at the top of the heap.”
“You’re getting that out of their behavior pattern?”
“Yeah. Not too difficult, though. The black sticks must have more than one mode of use. The little ones touch the middle-sized ones on the underside, and they jump like they’ve been jabbed with an electric prod. Then they go off and take it out on the big ones, and they jump. Looks like the big ones do all the actual work. But you know what?”
“Only if you tell me.”
“The little ones aren’t the king of the hill, either. They’re scuttling around like they’ve got the fidgets, waiting for something.”
“Will you be able to talk to them?”
“They won’t understand me if I do. I can read general behavior, but they’re too alien for anything more than that. For talking you’d need Tully the Rhymer. Hold on. They’re getting real excited. Hear them chittering away there? I’m going to sneak a bit closer.”
Tarbush eased forward on hands and knees. Chrissie followed without a word. A ledge formed a step up from the chamber that they were in, leading to a drier level beyond, and Tarbush stopped just short of it.
“Don’t go any farther.” Chrissie was right behind, whispering in his ear. “The light’s a lot brighter in there.”
“It is. But I don’t think it matters. I could do a song-and-dance act right now, and nobody would notice. Look out. Here comes whatever they’ve been waiting for. Everybody grovel.”
At the far side of the well-lit center chamber was another keyhole aperture and yet another room. What lay beyond was in darkness, but the crab creatures were lining up to face the opening and bending their many legs until their flat undersides touched the floor.
“Sweet Lucy!” Tarbush shuffled backward, bumping into Chrissie on the way. “Get a load of that.”
An object like a bulky black rock was creeping through the far doorway and into the central room. It was taller than Tarbush and was supported on a writhing nest of thick tentacles that protruded from holes in its lower part. As it moved forward all the animals in the chamber lowered themselves in attitudes of obeisance.
“See what it’s carrying.” Chrissie was right next to Tarbush, her lips to his ear. “Am I seeing things?”
“You’re not. And it’s going to—”
A thinner black hose hung down from the rock’s right-hand side. It curled around an oblong green box. As the hulking rock crossed the chamber toward Chrissie and Tarbush, the box uttered a preliminary series of coughs and sighs.
“ This is not the most efficient means of communication.” The voice coming from the translation unit was harsh and slow, but each word was clear. “However, I am presently too busy to take the time necessary for your conversion. Do you understand me?”
There was a pause, until Chrissie whispered, “We have to answer.” And then, more loudly, “Yes, we understand you.”
“ Listen closely. Your future is uncertain. If your kind agrees to serve the People, you will become part of that service. You will be released, but before that happens you will be modified to provide additional translators. Also, if the translator we are currently using dies, or ceases to function, one of you will become a translator. If your kind refuses to serve the People, they and you will die. Until then, you are prisoners and will not leave these chambers. You will be fed, but should you seek to escape, the Level Threes and Level Fours are instructed to kill you without hesitation. Is all this clear?”
Chrissie nodded. “Yes. It is clear.”
“ Good. If you are hungry, this may be used to ask for food.” The tentacle laid the translation unit on the floor, next to the ledge. The lumpy rock did not turn, but drifted away backwards across the central chamber. As it vanished through the far opening and the prostrate creatures rose with an outburst of clicks and whistles, Tarbush looked at Chrissie.
“All clear. Not clear to me, it weren’t. What was all that gab about being translators, and serving the People?”
“I don’t know.” Chrissie’s face was pale, and her nostrils flared. “I just wanted it to go away. I’m not a coward, Tarb, you know that. But I’d have said anything, I was so afraid it would reach out one of those snaky arms and grab me. What is that thing?”
“Judging from the way the rest of them behave, it’s the big boss. I didn’t care for it, either. Did you hear the options it gave us? If this happens, you die. If that happens, you die. If you do this, you get killed. If you’re real lucky and things work out all right, you get converted into a translator. I’m not sure what a translator is, but I have the feeling I wouldn’t enjoy being one.”
“What are we going to do, Tarb?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this. If you don’t want somebody to escape, saying that you’ll kill them if they try to escape may stop them trying. But telling them you’ll also kill ’em if they don’t try to escape strikes me as dumb.”
“We try to escape?”
“That’s my thought. But how?” He stared around the poorly lit room. “No windows. No exit, except the one that leads through to the chamber of horrors there. Floor’s solid, so’s the ceiling. Come on, Chrissie, we need a bit of your magic.”
“You were the one who said you can feel fresh air. That’s not possible unless there’s some sort of through draft.”
“That’s it, lady. Now you’re thinking. Let’s see what we can find.”
They walked slowly toward the dimly lit rear of the room, splashing through water that deepened to their knees. Close-up, the wall showed a definite grain.
“Like wood,” Chrissie murmured. “But I don’t see any joins. It’s like it grew , all in one piece.”
“Seamless.” Tarbush extruded the cutting tool of the emergency repair kit from his suit’s forearm and dug at the wall. “And tough. This will pierce most things, and I’m not making a dent.”
“What about this?” Chrissie was bending down to inspect a circular hole in the wall covered by a coarse-woven mesh. “I think this is a ventilator. I can feel a draft.”
“Let me have a go.” Tarbush applied the point of the knife. “This cuts easily. I can remove the whole thing if I want to. Not that it will do us much good. The hole’s only about four inches across.”
“How deep?”
&
nbsp; “Hold on.” Tarbush removed the little spotlight from his suit’s helmet, shone it into the hole, and peered after it. “At least a foot. The wall’s a lot thicker than I expected.”
“Let me try something.” Chrissie reached in, until her arm was buried to the shoulder. “I think I’m at the end, and it’s not covered with a mesh. My hand feels as though it’s out in the open, there’s a breeze on it.”
“So your hand can escape. Not too useful for the rest of us. Let’s see if there’s another one somewhere else that’s bigger.”
Working in silence, they went in opposite directions around the perimeter of the room until they came to the keyhole doorway that led to the other chamber.
“Anything?” Tarbush whispered.
“One more ventilation tube, same size as before. You?”
“Nothing. Unless you want to take a look in there.” Tarbush nodded his head toward the central room. With the rocky monster gone, the crab creatures were once more upright and busily moving a set of nested vertical tables to horizontal positions.
“I don’t want to, but we have to.” Chrissie stepped forward. “Stay where you are. No point in both of us taking a chance.”
“Chrissie!” But Tarbush stayed close to the wall as she moved into the central chamber, adding only a hissed, “Stop if they point the sticks.”
“Trust me. But I’m going to try to talk to them.” Chrissie stepped up onto the ledge and advanced to where the translation unit lay on the floor. As she picked it up, three of the biggest of the creatures stopped work and moved in her direction.
“Food,” she said loudly. “The big boss says we can have food.”
The translator produced a sequence of whistles and clicks. Chrissie waited. Eyestalks wiggled. Finally one of the creatures chittered, and the translation unit said, “Us not can. Not move.”
It retreated across the floor, to the far doorway of the chamber and beyond. Its two fellows had raised black canes and were pointing them directly at Chrissie.
“What now?” But it was hardly a question, and she did not expect Tarbush to answer. She did not dare to move, and waited frozen in position until at last the creature reappeared. It was accompanied by another half its size.
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