by Allen Wold
"We have records," Grayshard said, "of contact with the Ahmear back when our history began. They had been starfaring for at least a hundred thousand years before that."
"That's just great," Denny said, "but we're dying in here. We've got to go."
"That crown," Raebuck said, "is worth more than the whole of this station—and we're going to take it."
"You're damn straight we are," Sukiro said, to everyone's surprise. "That's not just a crown, it's a machine. Nobody has been able to figure out its technology before, but maybe we can now, and if we can, brain pirates won't matter a whiz. To hell with them; getting the crown back to civilization is the most important thing we can do right now, even if we have to die trying."
"Well and good," Denny said, "but the operative concept is getting back to civilization. It won't do us any good if we all die here."
"Okay, Raebuck," Rikard said, "let's get that thing, but by God we've got to get out!"
By now the rest of the goons had come into the alcove, and were staring at the enthroned figure. "You want us to move that whole thing?" Petersin asked incredulously.
"No," Raebuck said, "the statue is just for looks, all we need is the crown."
"Then let's do it," Denny said. She stepped up onto the supporting platform and reached out to climb up on the lower coils of the figure, but jerked her hand back even as she touched it. "That's no statue," she said, "that's real skin and scales."
"Impossible," Sukiro said, and went to touch it herself. "Holy shit! you're right!"
"A mockup," Rikard said.
"No, look, this is real!"
"Real skin and scales made to look like an Ahmear," Gray-shard said. He got down off Ming's shoulders and slithered up to the figure. He shaped himself into a column and reached out a rope of fibers to touch the Ahmear. "It is an Ahmear," he said, nearly losing control of his vocalizer.
"How in heaven's name the Tschagan got an Ahmear I don't know," Raebuck said, "but they sure as hell did, and they mummified it to prove their victory. I've seen this thing on tapes lots of time, and I always thought it was just a statue. The Tschagan wanted people to believe that they were superior, even to the Ahmear, but nobody believed it, because the Ahmear had left this part of the galaxy long before the Tschagan even came into existence."
"Come on," Sukiro said, "let's get the crown and go."
Raebuck glanced at the major, then the two of them started carefully to climb up the coils of the mummy. When they stood on its top coil its head was still out of reach so, one on either side, they went up its crossed arms and sat down on its shoulders. Its head was nearly as big as Raebuck's body. They took hold of the crown on either side and tried to lift it off.
"It won't move," Raebuck said.
They tried again, but were afraid to damage the mummy, or the crown, which simply refused to come off.
"We'll have to just leave it," Rikard said:
"Maybe we can move the whole thing after all," Sukiro suggested. "Push on the platform."
Petorska gave the side of the throne an experimental shove, and the platform did move a couple of centimeters.
"We'll never get it up those narrow ramps," Falyn objected. Nelross was trying to get the goons to resume a defensive formation.
"Maybe I can help," Grayshard said. He slumped forward onto the lower coils of the Ahmear and crawled up its body as easily as he had crawled along the floor. He came up between Sukiro and Raebuck and reached up with his tendrils to probe under the edge of the crown.
"There are anchor wires of some kind under here," he said. He probed further, brought more of his tendrils into the interface between head and crown. "There is electrical power of some kind," he went on. "There, I have disconnected it."
He withdrew his tendrils as Sukiro and Raebuck, between them, at last lifted the large, heavy crown from the figure's head.
Grayshard slithered back down to the deck. Then, taking turns and handing the crown back and forth so they could clamber down, Sukiro and Raebuck followed until at last all three were once again standing on the deck.
"Now let's go," Sukiro said as she brandished the crown triumphantly. Then she looked up at the Ahmear's face just in time to see its eyes look down at her.
2
"Oh, my God!" Sukiro said, and stared up at the domelike eyes, which now were glowing with an internal light.
"I must have triggered something when I unfastened the crown," Grayshard said.
"Those aren't artificial eyes," Rikard said as he backed off from the enthroned figure. Everybody else was backing off too.
The eyes glittered, as if the thing were looking from one person to another. Colder and Charney started to aim their weapons. "Hold your fire!" Sukiro shouted.
The Ahmear slowly flexed, at first just a general twitching of its whole serpentine body, then it began to move its crossed arms and a ripple ran down its coiled length.
Sukiro suddenly realized that she was still holding the crown. "Here," she said, offering it to the Ahmear, "here, take it back."
It paid no attention to her. Now it slowly stretched out its arms, as if they were cramped from being folded for so long, and turned its head from side to side. A convulsive ripple ran down its bronze, green, and dark blue length, and then it reached up with its upper set of arms and felt its head, where the crown had been. Jasime, Yansen, and Glaine raised their blasters.
"Hold your fire, dammit!" Sukiro shouted, and those who had not already done so backed out of the alcove onto the stage.
The Ahmear lifted itself up on its coils until its head was more than four meters above the platform. It leaned forward, looked around, and at last directed its glowing gaze at the people in front of its alcove. It spoke, "Ahh glagtha savish'kath-arn." Its mouth, besides the fangs, had a double row of carnivorous teeth. Its voice was a smooth bass, and strangely resonant, but with a catching quality to it. It unmistakably cleared its throat, shook its head, seemed to glance down at Sukiro's side where the crown now hung from her twitching hand. She lifted it up again, offered it to the Ahmear. It barked as if in laughter and slithered down off the throne.
The goons, in spite of their training, couldn't help themselves. They backed farther away, some turned as if to run, others raised their weapons. Only Rikard held fast, shouting, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
By now Sukiro had fallen flat on her face. Raebuck had sat down hard, and was just staring. The goons who had not run to the edge of the stage were crouched or prone or seated similarly.
There was something, Rikard sensed, other than just the sight of this being which was affecting them. Colder and Glaine were still trying to take aim, though their hands shook, but before they could fire, a paralyzing thought came into all their minds, and those still standing, even Rikard, sat or crouched or fell down. The Ahmear was not only alive, it was telepathic.
Rikard, half-paralyzed, watched as the Ahmear, paying them no further attention, came out onto the stage. It looked around the auditorium as if expecting to see other people down on the floor.
Rikard heard irises snapping. He managed to roll to one side so that he could see the back of the auditorium, and saw the blurs of Tschagan streaking toward them from the far arches. He felt the Ahmear send its telepathic command again, but it was not aimed at him, and it was as though he had been touched with just the edge of the thought. But the Tschagan, one by one but in rapid succession, suddenly stopped motionless, in postures of running, and crashed forward, thrown down by their own momentum.
The Ahmear moved toward the edge of the stage. Some of the Tschagan became able to move again, and scurried away. The Ahmear, it seemed, had decided to let them go. Rikard began to recover and sat up. Other Tschagan became mobile and ran away.
The Ahmear turned and looked at Rikard. The goons were recovering too, though they continued to cower. Even Sukiro was terrified of this being. The Ahmear looked from one to the other—as near as Rikard could tell with its bulging dome eyes —and its ga
ze seemed to rest on him, Denny, and Sukiro, as if recognizing them as leaders. It ignored the others.
Then Grayshard rose from where he had lain slumped by the base of the throne, and projected his own brand of chemo-tele-pathic paralysis. The Ahmear almost seemed to smile, and a sound that could have been a chuckle came from its throat, but though Rikard felt the full force of Grayshard's attack the Ahmear was unaffected. Grayshard gave up his projection almost at once and slumped back down to the deck.
The Vaashka paralysis quickly cleared from Rikard's mind and he felt, peripherally, a sending from the Ahmear. Judging from Denny's reaction, the sending had been directed at her. She just shook her head, her face a rigid mask, but there was something about that attempt at communication that Rikard found familiar.
The Ahmear then turned its attention to Sukiro, and once again Rikard "overheard" its sending. But the major just rolled over on her face, utterly rejecting the Ahmear's attempt at communication.
And now Rikard remembered where he had felt that kind of telepathy before—it was the same as that used by the Taarshome, those creatures he had found beneath the ruins of Khol-tri, and which he had reintroduced to civilization on the Federation capital of Seltique. It was not as strong as the dragons' sending, or as refined, or as all-enveloping, but it was the same kind of thing, a pure electromagnetic effect, without the chemical component that was a part of Tathas and Vaashka sendings.
The Ahmear turned its attention to Rikard. He felt the communication, more focused but still open to all hearers, and yes, it was indeed the same as that form of telepathy the Taarshome used—until now the only truly telepathic species known in the Federation or elsewhere. But unlike the Taarshome "speech," there was no instantaneous translation into terms Rikard could understand.
Even so Rikard got a sense of amusement mingled with condescension, curiosity, determination, relief. Denny and Sukiro had not been able to deal with this form of communication because they had not experienced it before, but. Rikard had acted as spokesman for the Taarshome, and as the Ahmear turned its attention elsewhere Rikard sat up and called out to it—just a half-formed greeting—in the way he had been taught by the dragons of Kohltri.
He must have done the right thing because the Ahmear coiled back from him as if amazed. It looked from Rikard, to Denny, to Sukiro, to one or two others who happened to be looking directly at it, as if it couldn't tell who had "spoken." It sent a short message in return, not in words but in images, which Rikard interpreted as meaning, "How did you learn to do that?" The images were a rapid succession of each face the Ahmear could see, and a strong sense of question. Rikard struggled to his feet, and sent back an image, of himself, "Me," and tried to form a sensory image of speech with the Ahmear as his audience. In effect, "I can talk to you—I think."
The Ahmear coiled up, like a snake poised to strike, but somehow without the sense of threat. It looked at Rikard, its head more than a meter above his, and stared at him as if it were confused. Its thoughts seemed turned in but Rikard could still overhear traces, and now he could detect an overtone of anger and fear, though not at him or the goons, or of them.
Rikard took a step forward, the Ahmear leaned back. Rikard formed an image in his mind of himself—as best he could-— and in his mind enunciated the words, "Rikard Braeth," then added the image-concept. It was a clumsy attempt. He couldn't, after all, speak only in true imagery.
The Ahmear's thoughts became still, as if it were trying to conceal them, then the response came, and with it a vocalization, "Endark Droagn"—or at least, that was how Rikard heard it.
This time Rikard spoke his own name as he made another attempt to send a mental image of "self." As he did so the others around him began to relax, some of them turning to watch these first attempts at communication. The Ahmear—Endark Droagn—pulled its—his?—lips back in a terrifying simulation of a smile—and as it did so seemed to become aware of Rikard's anxious reaction. It—he—stopped, and sent a sensation that Rikard could only interpret as "greeting."
Out on the auditorium floor more and more of the Tschagan were begining to rouse too. Endark Droagn offhandedly projected a violent thought toward them. Unlike Grayshard, his telepathic ability was controllably directional. Those Tschagan who were able simply ran for the arches.
Endark Droagn focused on Rikard again. Rikard got a sort of image of a pyramid of people, with Rikard at the top, flanked by Denny and Sukiro. He paused a moment, then created a similar image in his mind, with Sukiro at the peak, then himself and Denny immediately below, and the corporals and goons under Denny. It was hard to convey the mixed leadership. He said, "Sukiro is our leader, Denny commands the troops, but I am leading the exploration—theoretically."
By this time most of the others had regained some semblance of composure, and though all of them were still cautious and afraid they got to their feet and stood, albeit at a safe distance, watching Rikard and 'Endark Droagn. Whether any of them could sense the telepathic part of the conversation, Rikard couldn't tell, but it hardly mattered. At the same time more of the Tschagan on the auditorium floor were regaining their senses and staggering, so slowly as to be visible, toward the arches and away.
Endark Droagn mulled over Rikard's last communication and at last replied to the effect, ~But you are the one who can talk to me.~
Rikard answered, to the best of his ability, speaking words as he did so for the sake of the others, ~I've had some practice, with a race we know as the Taarshome. Your speech is much like theirs.~
~We knew the Taarshome, long ago,~ Endark Droagn said. ~How did you come to meet them? ~
~Some of them came back to a world that is now ours. They wanted to join with us again. ~
~I sense a long story,~ Droagn said. He gestured with one of his four arms back at the still recovering and retreating Tschagan. ~How did you get past those villains?~
~Very few of them are awake, and until just now there were no soldiers among them.~
Droagn watched as the last of the Tschagan made their clumsy way out through the arches. ~Much has changed since last I was aware,~ he said as he turned back to Rikard. ~Who are you, and why are you here?~
"We have come,~ Rikard said, ~to find the people who have been raiding our worlds—not the Tschagan, but others, who steal the brains from our people and have been using this derelict as their base. ~
~Derelict? It was not so when I came. ~
~That must have been a long time ago. We thought you were a mummy, set up for their propaganda. How come they didn't kill you? ~
~They could not, and besides, I was useful to them. ~
~You worked for them? ~
~Of course not, they put me into that device so that my— psychic power—could be used by them. ~
~You seem to be able to paralyze the Tschagan, and drive them away at will, how could they have gained control over you? ~
~I was careless, and they used machines I could not defend against when I was overwhelmed by their numbers. ~
~And why did you come? ~ Rikard glanced at Sukiro who, he thought, was beginning to be able to hear Droagn's responses, though the Ahmear did not vocalize them. The expressions on other people's faces indicated that they, too, were beginning to understand. ~Your people left our space very long ago, ~ Rikard went on, ~why did you come back?~
~To recover the Prime, a simulacrum of which your leader is still clutching. ~
Sukiro could indeed understand Droagn's sending. She self-consciously dropped the crown. Raebuck stared at it with surprised disappointment.
~I've been in stasis since I was captured, ~Droagn went on. ~How long ago was that?~
"As near as we know," Raebuck said, "the Tschagan stole the crown about a thousand years after they came to power in their own space."
Droagn apparently could understand her spoken speech, for he said, ~I heard of that shortly after it happened, maybe a century or two later, and decided that was a good time to retrieve it. A few hundred years is aw
fully brief for the changes I see around me.~
~More like twenty-five thousand years,~ Rikard said. He tried to form an image in his mind of what a standard year was, and the commonly used concept of numbering in base ten.
Droagn paused as he translated these ideas into his own terms. After a moment he began to lower himself slowly onto the deck. He sent back to Rikard a parallel concept, an idea of a second, minute, day, year. The terms were not identical to those Rikard knew, but near enough, and Rikard confirmed the estimate of the time elapsed.
~That's not possible,~ Droagn said.
"It is," Raebuck said as she came up to stand beside Rikard. "The Tschagan were in power for fifteen thousand years before the Vengatti led the rebellion against them, and that was ten thousand years ago. If you came here shortly after the Tschagan stole the crown, then you've been in stasis for nearly twenty-five millennia."
~Well, hell!~ was the telepathic equivalent of Endark Droagn's thought. ~I guess that blows everything.~
3
The Ahmear's last comment was so unexpected that for a moment the whole group was nonplussed—except for Denny.
"We've got to get moving," the sergeant said, "and it doesn't much matter in which direction."
Sukiro looked disappointedly at the false crown at her feet.
"How do we get out of here?" Rikard asked Raebuck. But before she could answer, Droagn "spoke" again.
~Just go out those doors,~ he said, pointing at the arches.
"The Tschagan are out there waiting for us," Rikard told him.
~Tough luck," Droagn replied, ~that's the way I'm going to go.~
"Do you know a way to get to the surface?" Rikard asked, speaking and sending at the same time.
~I know several, ~ Droagn said, ~but I'm not leaving just yet. ~
"Look," Sukiro said, "we got you out of stasis, who knows how long you'd be there otherwise. Help us in return to find a hatch so we can call our ship."
