Cluster c-1

by Piers Anthony

  “There was no need for this technology,” it explained. “Technology in advance of culture becomes detrimental. But when we were apprised of the Andromedan threat, we realized that a preemptive need now existed. So we offered this site in exchange for transfer.”

  Evidently Nathians saved information the way Solarians saved money! Well, why not? “It is a fair exchange.”

  The Canopian craft reappeared. This time it deposited a creature resembling the business end of an Earth-farm disk harrow. “Sphere Mintaka,” H:::4 announced.

  “Sphere Mintaka!” Flint exclaimed. “I didn’t know they were in this party!”

  “Their invitation was extended by Sphere Mirzam, which borders Mintaka,” the Master explained, using both human sounds and Nathian staccato. “From this chain of contact they have learned the technology of transfer and the communicatory mode of Mirzam, Bellatrix, and Nath. The Mintakan utilizes flashes of light, and will code them in the Nath manner so that your translators can handle it.”

  Flint visualized the map again. Sphere Mintaka was just a huge, ill-defined arc in the direction of the galactic rim. Humans had no direct knowledge of it, only that it was big—a radius of some five hundred light-years, larger even than Sador—and far away. Star Mintaka was one of the three that formed the constellation of Orion’s Belt, and it was fifteen hundred light-years distant from Sol. The Sphere might be decadent, like Sador, just the shrinking husk of former greatness, but how then had it been so alert about this expedition? The Sphere Knyfh envoy who had brought transfer to Sol had suggested as much: that it was fading. That might have been an error. Had Knyfh known this region well, it would not have needed to recruit Sol for the coalition mission.

  The Nathian was silent, and Flint felt momentary camaraderie with it, knowing it had similar reservations about the Mintakan.

  “I shall search out new arrivals,” H:::4 said, and took off again.

  That left the three of them. The Mintakan rolled forward on its circular blades, leaving deep parallel creases in the dust, and Flint noted how readily those edges could slice up a spacesuit or anything else. This was a combat-creature! Its lights flashed from lenses between the blades, blinking on and off so rapidly it was a mere flickering.

  “Greetings, Sol and Nath,” the translator said on the Nath band. “Much appreciation in this invitation, and in the secret of transfer, which transforms our society already.”

  With a five-hundred-light-year radius to that Sphere, or a thousand-light-year diameter, transfer would be a boon indeed! Regression must be ferocious, Flint thought. A hundred light-years in Sphere Sol carried man all the way back to the Old Stone Age; what would five hundred years do? Homo Erectus? Presapience? How could a Sphere even achieve such monstrous size without transfer? Surely it would soon fragment into smaller sub-spheres oriented on its most aggressive colonies, as the Earth British Empire had fragmented into America, Canada, India, and others.

  That brought him back to this mission: How did the Ancients manage a Sphere that embraced a sizable segment of the galaxy? Well, maybe they were about to find out.

  “We welcome any who care to join us in our effort,” Flint answered politely. “Are you acquainted with our larger mission?”

  “To save our galaxy from Andromeda—and to utilize whatever Ancient science we can recover toward this end. Sphere Mintaka, though no longer expansive, is quite concerned to protect its continuing well-being. So we participate.”

  “A fair response,” the Nathian agreed. “Are there Ancient sites in your Sphere, too?”

  “Many sites—but all corroded. We suspect the Ancients spread not only across our galaxy, but across other galaxies as well. Surely Andromeda obtained its expertise from some similar site as this. We marvel at the Ancients’ boundless energy, and desire to know its source.”

  “We, too,” Flint agreed. There certainly seemed to be a harmony of motive here, and that was good. “Whoever rediscovers Ancient technology might well achieve power over as great an expanse of the universe as they did.”

  “Hence we cooperate,” the Nathian added, “so that no single Sphere may draw in unduly.”

  “As one of our luminaries said,” the Mintakan flashed, “if we do not draw in together, we shall assuredly be drawn in separately.”

  “Interesting coincidence,” Flint said. “One of our own early philosophers made a similar statement about hanging together.”

  “I doubt they knew each other,” the Mintakan remarked, its lights flashing with evanescent humor.

  “A universal truth,” the Nathian said.

  Now a new figure rolled up. Flint recognized it with gladness. “Polaris!”

  “How circular to meet you, Sol and Nath,” the Polarian replied politely. It was not, of course, Tsopi, the female Flint had known and loved; that would have been too much to ask. But it was like meeting an old friend anyway, and Flint was reassured at its recognition of the Nathian. It was through such intersections of Spheres that they could verify the identity of the members of this crew. If Polaris vouched for Nath, Flint trusted that.

  The Canopian craft returned, this time depositing two entities. “Sphere Antares,” the Master announced, and left.

  Flint had forgotten about Antares. Sol had dealt with that Sphere long ago, trading controlled hydrogen fusion for matter transmission. Antares had had transfer for centuries, but refused to divulge it to any other Sphere until very recent events had made that policy pointless. There had been no ill feeling about this, as all Spheres had protected their technological secrets until the Andromedan threat had forced better cooperation. Thus the forms of Solarian and Antarean were known to each other. Flint just hadn’t seen one of these aliens in the flesh before. And flesh it was: Antareans were protoplasmic entities, moving by extension and consolidation. They were versatile, but lacked the speed and power of the skeletal and muscular creatures.

  “Push-hook irritation to be avoided, Antares,” the Nathian said.

  “Anticipating your irritation, an explanation,” one of the protoplasms said.

  It communicated by erecting a pattern of small temporary extrusions along the topside of its body. As a result, Flint had to aim his translation optic lens directly at it to pick up the meaning. These creatures, too, had to be in spacesuits, though again these were not evident. But of course Flint would not know suit from skin until he had had more experience with particular entities.

  “I am of Sphere Spica,” the creature went on, “contacted recently by Sphere Sol and granted transfer. Since we are waterborne entities, we cannot go on land. Therefore we cooperate with our longtime associate Sphere Antares. I am a transferee to an Antarean host, mattermitted here. Trusting no objection by other parties.”

  “Glad to have you.”

  “Pull-hook.”

  “Circularity.”

  The Mintakan flashed amenably.

  The Canopian saucer returned, but this time it was empty. “I suspect an unfortunate occurrence,” H:::4 announced. “Please follow my craft.”

  “What is it?” Flint demanded.

  “I prefer not to speculate.” And the Master proceeded slowly back the way it had come.

  They followed. Flint walked, the Nathian pulled, the Mintakan sliced, the Polarian rolled, and the two Antareans extruded. The last was especially interesting: They flung out globs of flesh in snakelike extensions, then humped the main mass of the body through the connecting tube into the forward extension. It was a bit like an inchworm, and a bit like siphoning water from one cup to another. Though it was slow, Flint realized that few barriers would stop such an entity long; it could pour itself through a tiny hole or fling a blob across a chasm without risk. Commitment was gradual.

  The Polarian was the fastest traveler, then came Flint and the Mintakan. The others bunched to the rear. This was no race, but Flint made another mental note: Should he have to get somewhere ahead of any of these creatures, he knew his chances. He was glad the Polarian was the only entity faster
than himself, for he had a basic trust and liking for Polarians. Of course the saucer-mounted Canopian was the speediest of all, but there would be places the saucer could not go. At any rate, rapid transit was not the only asset; it was likely that there would be different rankings for other tasks.

  The saucer settled. Flint and the Polarian drew up at the spot indicated and saw the body of a creature. It appeared to be about the same size as the members of the group—there seemed to be a fair similarity of size, as though this represented the sapient optimum—but differed in detail. It was solid, with a tripod of extensions projecting from stout tubes.

  “A prospective member of our party, defunct,” the Polarian said, his ball touching the ground beside the corpse. Flint realized that the Polarian spacesuit had to be very cleverly designed to allow ball and wheel to function properly. But of course Earth had no monopoly on technical ingenuity. “Its suit has been punctured.”

  “But from which Sphere?” Flint asked. The defunct entity’s suit did indeed appear to have been torn open. There must have been explosive decompression, too rapid to allow the creature to stop it before death occurred.

  The Mintakan sliced up. “That’s a Mirzamian!” it said. “What happened?”

  H:::4 looked around from his craft as the other entities arrived. “If I may make my supposition now: there would seem to have been an accident—or murder.”

  “Sapiencide!” the Antarean exclaimed.

  The Nathian approached the body. “All that we understand about our sister Sphere indicates that Mirzamians are extraordinarily careful. They propel themselves by vigorous jumping, so pay extreme attention to their surroundings lest they be damaged on impact.”

  Impact. That reminded Flint of the three-sexed Spicans: the Undulants, the Sibilants, and the Impacts. He glanced at the Spican/Antarean, but noted no reaction. Of course he could not be sure there was any equivalence in that language. No sense in searching for clues where none existed.

  “I observe no outcroppings of rock or other natural features that could account for such an accident,” the Master said.

  Flint remembered his experience with the power hopper on Luna. His mode of transportation there would have been rather similar to that used by the Mirzamian. There had been many rough natural features on Earth’s huge moon, but he had not been in any immediate danger from them. This seemed to rule out accident.

  “Yet if there has been slipshod anchorage—” the Nathian began.

  “There must be a murderer among us,” one of the Antareans finished. Flint observed it covertly, trying to distinguish it more certainly from the other. This was the larger, more translucent one, shot through with whitish strands Flint presumed were nerve fibers. The other, who claimed to be the Spican transferee, was milky throughout, and seemed more delicate: feminine. Not that that was applicable. How did the three-sexed Spicans react in transfer to a two-sexed form? Or were Antareans two-sexed? He should have checked that out.

  The seven diverse creatures began to draw apart. “One of us”—the Mintakan flashed, paused, and resumed—“is a spy or traitor.”

  “Not surprising,” Flint said. “News of this Ancient site has spread rapidly, and the Andromedans always have been aware of our activities. One of their agents tried to kill me in Sphere Canopus.”

  “Sphere Canopus resisted membership in the coalition,” H:::4 said. “But we do not stoop to inter-Sphere sabotage, and are as cognizant as any of the mutual threat. Once we joined, we cooperated fully.”

  “I meant no criticism of Sphere Canopus,” Flint said. “In fact, it was the intrusion of that Andromedan agent that brought Canopus into the coalition. My point is that we have since ascertained that it was an Andromedan agent, a female I have known as ¢le of A[th] or Llyana the Undulant, who animated those hosts, attacked me, and provided Canopus with specialized transfer information rather than betray her true identity.”

  “Pardon my misapprehension,” the Master said.

  “I trapped her for a time in Sphere Spica, but now I suspect she is one of our present number.”

  “You speak of a female,” the Nathian tapped. “Our findings indicate that transfer cannot be made to a creature of a different sex from the original. This offers an avenue of investigation.”

  “But we are sexless,” the Antarean objected.

  “And our sexes are interchangeable,” the Spican/Antarean added. “This is why this host is compatible: it is neuter. Transfer to a sexed species would be problematical.”

  “Neuter or interchangeable means no restriction, then,” Flint said. “But Nath is correct: Where two sexes exist, sexual crossover is not possible in transfer. So a quick survey may succeed in eliminating some of us from suspicion. I, for example, am male.”

  “This is not circular,” the Polarian said. “I too am male, but how am I to demonstrate this to those unfamiliar with my species? How can the rest of us be certain of the accuracy of statement by any one of us?”

  “I am familiar with your species,” Flint said. “I settled a debt as a transferee to your Sphere.”

  “Then you can name the defunct party of the debt-settlement,” the Polarian said.

  Flint snapped his spear into full length and raised it, orienting on the other. “You are in a Polarian body, but you could be an alien transferee. I believe I can puncture your spacesuit with this weapon before you can either attack me or escape—and if you attempt either, the others will know you are an impostor.”

  “Solarian, this is gross hook repulsion,” the Nathian protested. “This entity has given no—”

  “Debt-settlement is very special,” Flint said, maintaining the poise of his spear. “There is no dead party.”

  The Polarian stood still. “That is my other point. Any or all of us could be transferees, and are therefore suspect. The Andromedans surely have male agents as well as female ones. Even if we verify sex, how may we know the true identity of each of us?”

  “I assure you—” the Antarean began.

  “You have not abated my suspicion,” Flint said to the Polarian. “This is not based on sex, but on information. How do you settle debt?”

  “This is not a matter we discuss lightly.”

  The Mintakan cut forward slowly. “The Solarian has challenged the Polarian. It seems likely that one or the other is false—but how should we know which one? I am familiar with neither entity, and do not know about debt settlement, so can not verify the validity of any given answer.”

  “I am familiar with the Polarian system,” the Nathian said. “I begin to see the Solarian’s point. It is a matter of—”

  “Do not say it!” the Canopian Master interrupted. “You must serve to verify the answer given. It is true we have no direct way of knowing, on an individual basis, which of us is valid. But each Sphere overlaps at its fringe with one or more others. This is how we established initial contact with each other. We can employ that network to isolate the intruder… perhaps.”

  “I agree,” Flint said. “Maybe this investigation should be handled by H:::4. We can put it to vote.”

  There was a general flurry of a confusion. Flint did not relax, but he realized belatedly that the Polarian’s reference could have been a trap for him, unmasking him if he agreed. He really did not have much of a case, and should not have acted so rashly.

  It was the Polarian who spoke. “Nath and Sol and Sador—unfortunately not present—intersect Polaris, and Nath and Sol, also intersect Canopus. Exchange of interviews should verify the reality in circular manner.”

  “But Sol and Nath are suspect too!” the Spican protested. “And so am I, for I am a transferee.”

  “We have to decide on a course of action,” Flint said, growing impatient. “We can vote—”

  “What is a vote?” the Mintakan asked.

  Oh—so that was the source of some of the confusion. The human concept of voting was as opaque as the Polarian concept of debt.

  “It means each entity says yes or no, and al
l abide by the decision,” Flint explained.

  “Impossible,” the Spican said. “There must always be three sides to any question, no majority. As the maxim goes, it takes three to mate.”

  “Push-hook,” the Nathian agreed. “No entity can decide for another.”

  Flint saw that they were in danger of dissolving into chaotic debate and indecision. “Then I must act unilaterally. Polarian, I accuse you of being a transferee from Andromeda, murderer of this Mirzam entity and threat to this expedition. What refutation do you offer for me and Nath?”

  “Your thrust is dismaying, but typical of your kind,” the Polarian replied. “Permit me to round it off. I will satisfy your query—then query you myself.”

  “Fair exchange,” Flint said, hoping the Polarian could vindicate himself. “Now stop stalling.” The others were silent, waiting too.

  “My prior statement was misleading,” the Polarian said. “The Sol system of thrust abates debt by conflict. It would be natural for a Solarian to assume this was true in Sphere Polaris. Thus this Solarian’s challenge to me verifies his stated Polarian experience.”

  “This does not pull,” the Nathian said. “The push is to Polaris, not Sol.”

  “I abate it now. Please forgive my necessary indelicacy. Debt between male and female normally is abated by the mating of the two individuals concerned, and the transfer of the male’s seed-ball to the female as her new wheel. This involves—”

  “I am satisfied,” Flint said with relief, lowering his spear. “I apologize for my suspicion.”

  “Now I pose my return query, completing the circle. How is debt abated between Polarians of similar sex?”

  Flint’s mouth dropped open. “I have no idea,” he said. “I never thought of that!”

  “Yet you actually abated debt as a transferee?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe this in the circumstance,” Flint said, feeling the cynosure of the eyeless creatures around him. “I was in Sphere Polaris, but I never—”

  “You, Nath?” the Polarian inquired.