The Spheres of Heaven tmp-2

by Charles Sheffield

  Friday Indigo said, as casually as if he was suggesting that Chan take a seat, “Unseal your helmet all the way. This is part of your negotiation.”

  Chan took a deep breath. He opened his visor. The thin bundles of filaments moved up, to rest one below each of his ears.

  “Now,” Indigo said. “You will be permitted the privilege of free speech. Tell how you and your party can be of service to The One and to the People.”

  “We understand your wish to explore our universe. We can lead you to it.” Chan did his best to remain calm and organize his thoughts. He suspected that he was talking for his life — more than his life. It would be worse than death to become a zombie like Friday Indigo, a walking dead who existed only to serve the object sitting in front of him. He went on, “I do not know how to fly your ship, that would require long training. But I am able to work with your pilots, to generate a transition sequence that will carry you through the Link.”

  “Ah.” Indigo was frowning. “First you say we , as though speaking for all your party. Then you say, I , as though speaking only for yourself. The One asks, does that change have meaning?”

  “It does.” Chan was very aware of the thin tentacles touching below his ears. He had seen the dried blood on Friday Indigo’s neck, and heard the Angel’s assertion that some form of Malacostracan life existed inside Friday’s brain. “I say that I , and I alone, will do this thing for you, because I do not trust others in my party to act in my interests. Which is to say, I do not trust others to do the thing which is best for me.”

  “And what is best for you?”

  “To provide service to you, and so avoid my own destruction.”

  “And that service is?”

  “To lead you to another universe, the human universe, that is hospitable to life.”

  “And your reward for doing this?”

  “My life. My freedom. Perhaps, power as a servant of the Malacostracans.”

  “And for the others of your party?”

  “That is of little interest to me. I care only about my own life and future.”

  “You are willing to do anything to save that life?”

  “I am. I understand self-interest, as perhaps you also understand self-interest.” Chan felt the first touch of delicate tendrils, moving into the openings of his ears. He had to talk fast. He said, “My job in leading you through to my universe will be a difficult one, even with help from your pilots. It requires that I have full possession of all my faculties. My brain cannot be drugged, or exhausted. It cannot be changed in any way.”

  The tendrils stopped moving. Friday Indigo said, “We understand self-interest. It is our impression that most humans comprehend such a thing only weakly. Give proof that you are different from them.”

  “How?”

  A third hose emerged from the rock. Its prehensile end held one of the black canes. The hose swayed forward until it was a foot from Chan’s chest.

  Indigo said, “Do you know what this does?”

  “I think so. It is a weapon.”

  “Correct. At one setting, it stuns. At another, it kills. This one is now set at a level fatal to humans.”

  Chan looked down at the cane, pointed straight at his heart. He could think of nothing else to say or do. Had he made some fatal mistake, missed some vital cue?

  Friday Indigo said, “Take it.”

  Chan reached out and grasped the cane. It was smooth, and slightly sticky to the touch.

  Friday said, “It is activated by pointing at the target, and squeezing anywhere along its length. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Now prove that you are different from others of your party. Give the evidence of your own self-interest.” Indigo’s voice was calm and relaxed. “Point the weapon at the being standing next to you. Activate it. Kill the human you know as Friday Indigo.”

  Chan raised the cane. A dozen jumbled thoughts seemed to race through his head at once. If I kill Friday, The One will have nobody to serve as a translation unit. Maybe Chrissie and Tarbush were intended for that fate, but they’ve escaped. But I’m here, and available for conversion. So if I kill Friday, I’m probably dooming myself. Suppose I don’t kill Friday? Then I’m still doomed. Anyway, I can’t kill a human in cold blood. But Friday isn’t a human, so I can kill Friday. No? Very well, then admit the truth. I can’t kill Friday, human or not. So my whole plan fails, unless The One accepts that I’ll need all my faculties intact to guide a Malacostracan pilot through the Link to a human universe. If so, then The One will want to keep my brain intact, and she will still have a use for Friday Indigo as translator. So The One won’t want Friday Indigo dead.

  Chan thought, Forgive me if I’m wrong, aimed the cane right at Friday, and squeezed.

  Nothing happened. Indigo did not fall paralyzed or dead. He continued to stare with calm interest at the black cane pointed at his heart.

  “That is adequate proof,” he said. “And it was accomplished without the waste of still-valuable material. The cane was of course deactivated. Answer one more question correctly, and we will be ready to proceed. If The One were to call you directly into her service, as I was called, you would gladly tell everything including the correct invocation sequence for Link transfer to the human universe. Prove to The One that it would be a mistake for her to follow such a course of action.”

  Again the tendrils were poised at the entrance to Chan’s ears. He had to swallow before he could speak. “I cannot offer such a proof. All I can say is that conversion of me to The One’s direct service might interfere with my ability to assist in the Link transition, should unforeseen circumstances arise. And there is absolutely no risk to The One in leaving me unconverted.”

  “That is true.” To Chan’s relief, the black tentacles lifted free of his body and slowly withdrew into the body of The One. Once again he was facing a dull black rock.

  Friday Indigo continued, “The Malacostracans will prepare a ship for Link transfer and a first exploration of the human universe. Soon after daybreak tomorrow, you will be taken aboard that ship with The One, and by midday you will assist in initiating that Link transfer. Until morning you are free to stay here and eat, drink, and rest.”

  “Very good. But one other thing is necessary.” Chan cursed his own stupidity. He had not realized that the Malacostracans would want to move so fast.

  “What is that?”

  “Not knowing how this meeting would turn out, I did not bring with me the full protocol needed for Link transition to the human universe. I request that I be allowed to go to the Hero’s Return , prepare that protocol, and return here.”

  “When?”

  “I will be back by morning.”

  “General Korin is by your own admission senior to you. How can you be sure that he will allow you to return?”

  “I will tell him that our discussions here remain unfinished. He will not try to prevent my departure.”

  After a long, agonizing silence, Friday Indigo nodded. “It is approved. Be sure that you return by daybreak. To encourage you to do so, I will mention that we plan to destroy the Hero’s Return soon after first light. Do you have any problem with this?”

  “No problem.” Just the death of Deb and Danny and everyone else.

  “Then you have permission to leave the presence of The One. It is The One’s introspection time.”

  Leaving was easier said than done. The lights in the chamber suddenly turned off, leaving Chan unable to see The One or anything else. He heard the uneven sound of Friday Indigo’s boots, one foot dragging across the hard floor, and turned in that direction. He saw, very faintly, the outline of the chamber entrance. There were no lights in the next room, but a faint trace of daylight bled in from the tunnel at its far end.

  Chan hurried along after Friday, through the archway, past the little Malacostracan seated on its flat dais, finally out into open air. The overcast had cleared, the sun was blazing. He caught the sulfurous odor of black rock baking
in early afternoon heat, and felt that he had never smelled anything so good. Half an hour ago he would have taken odds against his smelling anything ever again of his own free will. He could still feel those questing tentacles at his ears.

  Friday Indigo, a few feet in front of Chan, paused by the group of big Malacostracans guarding the entrance to the building. He rattled off an outlandish sequence of whistles and clicks. Two of the creatures reared up on their back legs, so that their waving eyestalks and purple-black carapaces loomed over Chan.

  “I told them to escort you to the shore,” Friday said. “You must go directly to the beach, and straight into the water. If you seek to do anything other than that, they will stun you and drag you back here for their further instructions. After you leave, they will remain on the shore until you emerge from the water in your suit at dawn tomorrow morning. They will then escort you here. If you seek to linger on the beach tomorrow, they will stun you and drag you back for further instructions. Do you have any questions before I hand you over to them?”

  “Suppose that the waves are too rough for me to go into the sea?”

  “That will be your misfortune. It is useless for you to try to communicate with them, because they are Level Fours and of limited intelligence. Your failure to enter the water will be considered a deviation from instructions, and they will stun you—”

  “ — and drag me back here for further instructions. I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow — right on time.”

  The two Malacostracan guards placed themselves one ahead of and one behind Chan and moved away across the burned rock. They took a different path from the one that Friday Indigo had used, angling away to the right. Soon they were at the edge of the bare area and moving into waist-high scrub. They went forward confidently along a trail marked by flattened plants. They passed through a small clearing. Chan wanted to pause there, but he was too aware of the black canes. He kept walking, taking a quick glance at the open supply cases and the cans and boxes scattered on the ground next to them. The earth was scuffled and marked by the imprint of many clawed feet.

  This was where Deb and the others had made their camp. If Chrissie and Tarb came here when they escaped, they had been too smart to linger. But where had they gone? Not back into the water. The breakers during the night would have been enormous.

  Chan moved his hand up to close his helmet. The Malacostracan guards took no notice. To them, a human without a suit probably looked naked and unnatural, a shell-less version of a proper animal.

  He flicked a switch on his gauntlet controls. Again the guards ignored him. Provided that he kept moving, that seemed to be all that they cared about. He adjusted the radio to the general communication frequency and increased the reception volume. He heard a background hiss and that was all. If Chrissie and Tarb were able to broadcast — if they had even escaped with their suits — they were not doing so. But that also made sense. A distress signal or any other form of message was also a beacon, advertising the location of its source.

  Chan kept walking and listening, and heard nothing. They were emerging from the shelter of the vegetation. He saw the shore with its line of breakers, smaller and less threatening now, maybe fifty meters ahead.

  It was time for him to take a chance. If his signal was picked up, the Malacostracans should think it came from the sea and the sunken Hero’s Return.

  He added a transmission circuit. “Chrissie and Tarb. Can you hear this?”

  Still the bland hiss, and the beach was within thirty meters.

  “If you are receiving, stay in hiding. The part of the shoreline near your camp is guarded by the Malacostracans. Everyone on the Hero’s Return is alive and well” — true at the moment, presumably, but not for long unless Chan did something about it — “and we will be in touch with you as soon as we can. Repeat: stay hidden. If you are caught, the Malacostracans will execute you.”

  Chan saw no reason to add that the deaths would be drawn-out and agonizing. In any case, he was at the edge of the shore and there was no time for more words. Again he tried to do what he had seen Deb do earlier. He marched straight ahead until the water lapped about his waist, then dived forward into the approaching wave.

  This time he was more successful. Chan felt his heels briefly break the surface, then he was under and on his way. He swam as fast as he could. In one evening and one night on Limbo, he had to say good-bye to everything and everyone forever.

  35: THE ONLY ANSWER

  Chan had thought that the most difficult part of his return would be the first two minutes. He was wrong.

  From the moment that Deb had appeared at the Hero’s Return to tell the others that she had been forced to leave the land, everyone had naturally been desperate to know what was happening ashore. They wanted to hear about Chan’s meeting with the Mallies. They wanted information , and compared with that his emotions or feelings were a very low priority.

  He gave a lengthy but highly edited version of events after Deb had been forced to leave, concentrating on what he had seen of the Malacostracans and confirming their confidence that they could open the Link entry point at will and fly their ships through it. He described his meeting with The One, but said nothing of the deal that he had made.

  “Actually, we spent most of the time just trying to communicate with each other,” he said. “The Angel is right about Friday Indigo, he’s been taken over totally by the Mallies. But talking to them, even with him helping, is hard work. I still don’t know if there’s any way that we can work with them to get ourselves through the Link and home. I have to go back there first thing in the morning, and try again.”

  Chan was uncomfortably aware of Gressel. The Angel was sitting in a well-lit corner, fronds unmoving. It was said that an Angel could simulate human thought patterns so well that lying to one of them was impossible. But Gressel remained silent.

  “What about Chrissie and Tarbush?” Danny Casement asked. “Deb said they escaped. Are they still free?”

  “So far as I know.” Chan was glad to switch to something he could talk about freely. “I tried to call them just before I came back here, but they didn’t reply. The land surface is a lot more complex and jagged than it looks on the satellite images. They could be hidden away in a thousand places.”

  “Out of radio contact, perhaps?” Deb said.

  She was looking at Chan very strangely. Maybe it was his own feeling of guilt at what he was concealing from her and the others. But if he told anyone his idea, anyone at all, they would find a reason why he shouldn’t go through with it.

  “More likely Chris and Tarb were away from their suits for a while,” he said. “They must know we’re looking for them, and they’re far too smart to put themselves permanently in a place where signals can’t reach. One good thing, they have plenty of supplies. I passed our first camp on the way to the sea, and they’d raided it long before I got there.”

  He stared around at the little circle of weary faces. Not one had slept the night before, and it was doubtful if they had managed to rest while he was gone. “You all look as tired as I am. I’m also starving. If nobody objects, I’d like a meal and a nap. After that I’ll be happy to answer as many new questions as you can dream up.”

  Tully O’Toole nodded and said, “Go, Chan man, you need to feed.” He looked like a human wreck who had not eaten for months, a gray skeleton in tattered clothes leaning over the back of Elke Siry’s chair; but he seemed cheerful. “Don’t take too long.”

  “He’s right,” Dag Korin said. “Go and eat. I’m not so sure about the nap. We have to leave the poor old Hero’s Return as soon as possible. The place won’t be habitable much longer.”

  The lights flickered, as though emphasizing his point. Chan nodded and left the control room, heading toward the bow of the ship. He had hoped to be left alone, but he should have known better. Deb followed him into the corridor.

  “I haven’t had anything to eat, either,” she said. “If you’re going to have a meal, I thought tha
t we might—”

  “Actually, I’m not.” Chan halted. “Not going to eat, I mean. I’m too rushed. And I need some time alone.”

  He saw the expression on her face, and went on, “I have to record exactly what the Malacostracans said to me, while it’s still fresh in my mind. It’s difficult to do that when other people are around.”

  “I see.” She seemed ready to say more, but instead she turned abruptly and hurried back the way that they had come.

  Chan resisted the urge to go after her. He did need time alone, even if it was not for the reason he had given Deb. He needed time to think, and then to create a crucial document. He ducked away into a side chamber, once used as a small-arms supply room but now empty and deserted. Water had seeped in from some unseen crack, leaving the floor slick and treacherous. Two of the three lights were no longer working, and the remaining one glowed faint and feeble.

  Chan leaned against the wall, reviewed what he intended to do, and made a decision. He dared not tell Deb his plan, much as he would like to; and because of that he could not see her again before he left the Hero’s Return. Which meant that he would not see her again, ever.

  The thought froze his soul. He left the little armory and moved along the length of the ship until he came to the forward observation chamber. In another life, the view from here had been of stars and glowing gas clouds and pinwheeling galaxies. It was from here that he and Elke Siry had watched Ceres fall behind, and he knew that their long journey had begun.

  Now Chan saw nothing ahead but the murky waters of Limbo. He said loudly, “Is the computer working in here?”

  The audio outlet replied, SERVICE IN THIS LOCATION IS GUARANTEED FOR THE NEXT TWENTY-ONE HOURS, BUT NOT BEYOND.

  “That will be more than enough. I want you to record what I say, then make a single printed copy. After I review that document and make changes, I want a single final printed output, sealed in an envelope. No copies.”

  THERE IS NO OUTPUT UNIT AT THIS LOCATION. THE NEAREST IS IN ROOM I-293, THIRTY-EIGHT METERS AFT ON THIS LEVEL.