The truth was that Darya was still practically within sight. Using the biggest telescope on Sentinel Gate and the right adaptive optics, Hans could have actually seen her ship.
Darya was heading for Sentinel, the artifact that sat a mere couple of hundred million kilometers from Sentinel Gate. From the planet's surface it showed as a shining and striated ball, an undersized fixed moon in the evening sky.
She needed evidence to disprove Quintus Bloom's theories, and no one in the universe knew Sentinel better than Darya. The sight of it had first roused her interest, as a child growing up on Sentinel Gate, in the Builders and their artifacts. Heading for it now was like a return to the simple days of childhood.
Of course, there were differences from the old days. Some of them were hard to ignore. One of them was crouched beside her, staring at the screen where Sentinel filled the field of view ahead. The Hymenopt at Darya's side was eight-legged, with a chubby barrel-shaped body covered with short black fur. Its small, smooth head bore rings of bright black eyes all around the perimeter. At the other end, the tubby Hymenopt abdomen carried a lethal yellow sting, now safely retracted and out of sight.
There had been nothing remotely like Hymenopts, or any other aliens, in Darya's childhood. But she did not give this one a second thought. She and Kallik had been through so many difficult and dangerous times together, from Quake to Genizee, that she felt closer to the Hymenopt than to most humans.
And Kallik was smart. She knew as much as Darya about many artifacts in Fourth Alliance territory, and more about everything in the Zardalu Communion. It had been a big surprise to Darya to meet Kallik and the Lo'tfian, J'merlia, at the Sentinel Gate spaceport, but a welcome one. The two little aliens and former slaves were just what she needed: someone to talk to—and someone who wouldn't deceive and betray you.
Darya turned her thoughts away from that subject, back to the Hymenopt clicking and clucking at her side. Kallik had taken Darya's own file about Sentinel, along with Darya's summary of the theories of Quintus Bloom. She had read both at lightning speed, and was beginning to form her own impressions of the artifact ahead as the ship crept closer.
"To recapitulate." Kallik still clicked a little as she spoke, but her command of human language, to Darya who had mastered not one whistle or chirp of Hymenopt, remained mightily impressive. "The impermeable surface of Sentinel lies at a radius of half a million kilometers from the central structure. On your own most recent visit, what was the fate of any object that sought to penetrate that surface?"
"I was there with an exploring party two years ago. First we took a look from well outside, with ultraviolet lasers. We measured a change in the size of the Pyramid, at the center of Sentinel. It was smaller, eighty-eight kilometers on a side, instead of ninety. As always, the surface was completely transparent to radiation. So we tried a probe. Its radial momentum was exactly reversed in sign as it contacted the visible surface. The probe was traveling at only eight meters per second when it met the surface, but onboard instruments recorded a brief acceleration of one hundred and eighty gee. The probe was unmanned, but anyone on board would have been killed—at least, any human would."
"Or any Hymenopt." Kallik whistled to signify humor. "You think we are tough, but there are limits. One hundred and eighty gee, for eight meters a second velocity reversal. If the surface were elastic, the permitted penetration would be only to a depth of a couple of centimeters before it rebounded."
"That's correct. The same as the last time we were there." Darya had grown used to the idea that Kallik had her own built-in mental calculator. "The penetration depth is independent of speed. That's one of the things I want to try this time. I feel sure that Quintus Bloom is wrong, but if he were right we might expect to see changes to Sentinel."
"With respect, Professor Lang." The deferential voice came from the pilot's chair, to Darya's right. "If that is the case, then based on evidence to date, Quintus Bloom's theory has much to recommend it."
J'merlia had a body as slender as a drainpipe, but as many legs as Kallik. That was more than enough to handle the ship and have plenty left over to work the displays. He brought a new screen on-line in front of Darya.
"Since you mentioned the use of ultraviolet lasers, I took the liberty of employing that same class of device while you were busy in conversation. This is the image returned from the interior of Sentinel. I see several objects, spheres and cylinders and cones. But with respect"—the Lo'tfian turned lemon-colored compound eyes on their short eyestalks toward Darya—"with respect, I see nothing that could fairly be described as a pyramid."
The bulk of Sentinel lay right ahead of the ship. Darya gazed with disbelief at the screen. The Pyramid had to be there. It was the most interesting object in Sentinel's interior, the object that some workers had suggested might be a central library for Builder knowledge. Darya knew exactly where it would be with respect to the other objects in the interior. It should be . . .
"It's gone. It really has. Quintus Bloom said it might."
"More than that." J'merlia's voice was as gentle as ever, as befitted an ex-slave. "While you and Kallik were busy with your important work, I took the liberty of bringing our ship closer and closer to the surface barrier. Naturally, I did so very slowly, so that we would not be hurt or the ship damaged when the surface repulsed us."
"You didn't need to worry about that. All the ships in the Sentinel system have a built-in safeguard that stops them when they approach too close to the repulsive surface."
"Very wise." J'merlia nodded. "Except that the system did not stop us—and we are now, according to the inertial navigation system, two kilometers inside the bounding surface. We are inside Sentinel."
Inside Sentinel, where Darya had so often longed to be! But there was little pleasure in the knowledge. It was more evidence that Quintus Bloom was right, and she was wrong. They might be able to make it all the way to the center, and examine objects that humans had peered at, but could not touch, for every year since Sentinel had been discovered.
But after that it would be back to Sentinel Gate, with her tail between her legs, back to grovel before Quintus Bloom and admit that everything was changing, that his ideas had a lot more validity than hers. (Except, dammit, that she didn't believe it.)
"And we are fortunate to be here to witness this also." J'merlia was talking again, more to the Hymenopt than to Darya. "You were quite right, Kallik, and it is good that we did not ask questions. He knew this, when he told us to find Professor Lang and go wherever she chose to go. He knew that there would be revelations, which we would return to report."
The light came on inside Darya's head. She had been set up for this. "You mean Quintus Bloom told you to come to the spaceport and find me?"
"Certainly not." Kallik clucked in self-deprecating disapproval. "I did not say it clearly enough to you, but we have never met Quintus Bloom. J'merlia is referring to Captain Hans Rebka. He called and said that we were to protect you, and bring you back safely to Sentinel Gate."
"Damn that man. He said to protect me? Well, screw him."
"Indeed?" J'merlia inclined his head politely, and gestured a forelimb at the control board. "Do you wish to proceed farther toward the interior? Or would you rather we return to Sentinel Gate?"
"No! I'm not going back to that bloody planet. Let's get out of here."
J'merlia's eyes rolled on their eyestalks. "With respect, but to where? I cannot navigate, unless I am given a destination."
Darya leaned back in her chair. It was obvious what she had to do. Quintus Bloom would always have his ace in the hole, his private artifact—until Darya went there and examined it for herself.
"Find a set of Bose transitions to take us to Jerome's World." Darya silently cursed all men, but Hans Rebka and Quintus Bloom in particular. "We're going to take a look at Labyrinth."
Chapter Nine
In the light of Sentinel Gate's brilliant morning sun, Louis Nenda stood chest-high amid a thicket of flowers
that threw off a riot of sensuous and heady perfume. He sniffed deeply, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and spat on the ground.
He was stuck on this pansy world, and to get off it he was going to have to deal with one of his least favorite people. Nenda and Atvar H'sial had been over the situation again and again, and seen no alternative. Hans Rebka surely knew where Darya Lang had gone, although for his own reasons he was keeping it from them. So it was Nenda's job to worm it out of him.
If only he were on a decent world, like Karelia, where things were done in a decent way. Then he could have got what he wanted out of Rebka immediately, by smashing his stupid face in to make him talk.
But standing and thinking of better places would get him nowhere. Nenda plowed through the flowers until he was at the entrance of the bungalow. He tried the door that he came to, and found it unlocked. He snorted. An invitation to burglary—but not right now. He banged on the door panel.
No one came.
Nenda went in, walking through the livingroom and following a smell that appealed to him a lot more than the scent of the flowers outside. He'd had no breakfast.
The kitchen of the house was clean, compact, and automated. Rebka wasn't there; but someone else was.
Wrong house! Louis was all ready to mutter an apology and retreat when he recognized the occupant of the kitchen. It was the tall, decorative woman he had seen when he first arrived at the Institute. She was wearing a white robe, open at the top almost to her waist, and split at the bottom to show more leg than Louis had ever seen before on a woman who claimed to be dressed.
"Sorry," he said. "My mistake. I'm looking for Hans Rebka. I thought this was where he's staying."
"It is. But he already left."
She had obviously recognized him, though he couldn't for the life of him remember her name. He glared around him, as though it might be written on one of the walls. "Do you know where he is?"
"I might. And I'm Glenna Omar, since you've obviously forgotten. You look like you want to leave, too. You're all the same. I hate men who are all kiss and run. I hope you're not like that. Here, help yourself."
She waved to the table in front of her, which bore a big plate of steaming rolls and a pot of what smelled like hot tea.
It was the price of information. Louis gave up. He sat down opposite Glenna. Atvar H'sial would never believe this if she found out, but at least he'd get breakfast out of it.
Glenna leaned back and sighed. "There, that's better. Now we can get to know each other. Although I already know you, sort of. When you said you were 'Louis Nenda,' yesterday, I couldn't think where I'd heard your name before."
Louis said nothing. For one thing, his mouth was crammed full of hot roll. For another, in his experience nothing good was likely to come from people who knew your name.
"And then I remembered." Glenna leaned forward to show even more cleavage. "I work here at the Institute as an information system specialist, and I'd seen your name listed as one of the people who were with Professor Lang on one of her trips. She talked about you, too. Do you find her attractive?"
"Eh?" For Louis, with half his mind on food and the other half on Glenna's chest, the sudden change of subject was too much.
"Darya Lang. I said, do you find her attractive?"
Atvar H'sial must have found a way to get Glenna to ask the Cecropian's own questions. It was a trap. Louis shook his head.
"Nah. Not at all."
"Good. But you know, I think she really likes men from other planets." Glenna leaned forward farther. The view was impressive, and almost unobstructed. "Of course, it's easy to see why. There's a sort of mystery about you off-worlders; you don't have a dull stay-at-home job like me, making you into a boring person . . . like me."
She arched her brows, inviting dissent. Louis had her pegged now, and the knowledge helped to clear his brain. She was a collector. He had met the type before. The trick was to get the information he needed, without his head (or other important parts) finishing as trophies on the wall behind her bed.
He looked with deep and bogus sincerity into her eyes. "I guess that Darya really liked Hans Rebka. He's seen a hundred different planets."
"Probably." Glenna smiled, the cat that got the cream. "But did he like her? Not all that much, if you ask me—and I have proof. It takes more than one person to make a relationship. There has to be mutual attraction. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, absolutely. You bet. So Hans dumped her, did he? Good—I mean, good for him. I bet she was mad."
"Livid. Said she was leaving him, and leaving Sentinel Gate, and she stormed out. But she likes off-planet men, I can tell that. You know, you're an attractive man, too. I can't help wondering, did Darya ever make a pass at you?"
"I wouldn't put it that way. But some imagined there was something like that goin' on."
"And I'll bet they were right." Glenna turned her face away so that she could give Louis a coy sideways glance. "You're that sort of man, I just know it. You have that certain look in your eye."
Right. And I'm about a foot shorter than you, and a foot wider, and I'm all scarred and hairy, and I'm swaddled in clothes so tight that I can't get out of them inside half an hour even when I want to. What sort of mismatch from hell does it take to put you off your stride? Louis tried a demure smile, which looked more like a hideous strangler's grin. "You shouldn't tempt a man like that, ma'am, not in the middle of the morning. It's not fair. You know, I've got work to do."
"So do I. Call me Glenna. What are you doing this evening?"
"Nothing much. But I had the impression that you and Hans Rebka . . ."
"Please!" A slim hand waved away the possibility. "We're just friends."
You mean he's already hanging there in the collection. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Anyway, he's getting ready to go somewhere, out of system." Glenna pouted. She touched Louis's arm, then slid her hand down toward his. "Maybe this evening, then, you and me?"
"Maybe this evening." Nenda took her hand and swore a solemn vow to be off-planet by sunset. "But now I have to talk to Hans Rebka. Where is he?"
"He's up at the engineering lab, fooling around with some stupid computer that got itself short-circuited during a dinner with Professor Merada." Now that she had what she wanted, Glenna was perfectly willing to be gracious. "I can point out the way to you from the front door; it's just up the hill."
Louis was already moving. There wasn't all that much time left until evening. The lab couldn't be more than five minutes away—less if he ran.
At the door, just when he thought he was free, Glenna took hold of his hand again and turned him to face her. Her blue eyes were wide and the pupils were dilated. "I've just remembered one more thing about Darya Lang's report on you. She said that you've been augmented." Glenna shivered, and bit her lower lip. "That sounds absolutely fascinating. I've been wondering anyway what you have hidden under all those clothes. You've got to promise to show me."
Louis didn't recall running, but he made it to the engineering lab in two minutes. He entered, and found himself in the middle of what appeared to be a gruesome murder.
The body of E. Crimson Tally sat in a metal chair. Fiber tape around his arms and legs and torso held him tight. His skull had been cleaved horizontally just above the ears, so that the cranium was sheared off and had been turned, to dangle in front of his face by a flap of skin on the forehead.
Hans Rebka stood behind the chair. He held an object like an ice pick, but with a much thinner spike, and he was thrusting it deep into the gray ovoid of E.C. Tally's naked brain.
Nenda moved forward to stand next to Rebka. "What happened? He blow a gasket?"
Rebka went on probing, and didn't look up. "Sort of. He got into a closed loop at a dinner two days ago. I called the people on Miranda, and there's a general logic fix on the way. Meanwhile, they told me how to do a cold start."
"Why the tape?"
"Protection. Miranda says there may be transients while he's booting.
We don't want him walking through the walls."
Rebka had found the point he wanted, and gave a final poke. The body in the chair jerked. Rebka grasped the dangling top of the skull, turned it over, and fitted it into position. The bone lines clicked to form a neat seal, hidden by skin and hair.
"Going to take about thirty seconds of internal set-up before we see anything happen." Rebka straightened to his full height and stared at Nenda. "What do you want? I told you everything I know last time we met."
Nenda stretched upward too. He and Rebka were eye to eye, but still half a head shorter than anyone else on Sentinel Gate. He could feel the tension. If they had been a couple of dogs, the skin would be pulled back from their fangs and the hair along their backs would be bristling. Someday, the two of them would have a real go at each other. Rebka was as keen to try it as he was, Louis knew it. But it couldn't happen today.
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