Omega к-4

by Джек Макдевитт

  She advanced on the melon, studied it, touched it, lifted it. After a moment she let it swing back down. Jaw muscles twitched. Then she casually turned and continued on her way.

  “Better be more careful,” said Digger.

  “How bad was it?” asked Jack.

  “It was afloat.”

  Ahead, the road passed through farmland, rolling fields filled with crops, plants and trees in long rows, green stalks and something that looked like bamboo. Other fields lay fallow. Occasional buildings with a slapdash appearance were scattered across the landscape. Some were barns. Others were the huge, sprawling structures in which large numbers of Goompahs lived. They appeared sometimes singly, sometimes in clusters of three and four.

  It was clear that they were home to communal groups, although what divided them from other groups or bound the individuals together remained a mystery. As they continued on, this type of structure became more frequent, but occupied smaller segments of land. And there were individual homes as well. Parks began to appear. The road became busy, and eventually expanded into a thoroughfare. Shops lined both sides.

  Some public buildings possessed a level of elegance almost rivaling that of the temple. But most were of a more pedestrian nature, austere and practical. All were filled with the creatures, who leaned out windows and exchanged comments with the crowds outside. Young ones played in doorways, others frolicked on rooftops. Everybody seemed to be having a good time.

  “Partyville,” said Jack.

  Most of the shops were flimsy structures, plaster or wood with awnings hung over them. A few were brick. The shelves were well-stocked with fabrics, fish, wine, clothing, jewelry, cushions, animal skins, and every other conceivable kind of product.

  “They have money,” whispered Jack. “Coins. A medium of exchange.”

  It was a chaotic scene. Merchants hawked products, customers pushed and shoved to get close to the counters. A quarrel broke out in front of what appeared to be a weapons shop. Everywhere Goompahs haggled over prices and commodities.

  The coins Jack had seen were spread across the counter of a fabric shop. Hadn’t been picked up yet by a careless proprietor. Behind him were displayed woven spreads and shirts and trousers and even a few decorative wall hangings.

  It occurred to Digger that a coin would make a dazzling souvenir.

  He hesitated. Everybody was so tightly packed together. But therein lay safety, right? In this crowd, who’d notice getting bumped by an invisible man?

  “Jack,” he said. “Wait here.”

  “Wait, Dig. Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The battle at the weapons shop had not gotten past a lot of screaming and yelling. But it had cleared an area for him to pass through. The weapons shop had bows, arrows, knives, and javelins on display. They looked mostly ornamental, something gawdy to hang on the wall and maybe claim you’d taken from a fallen enemy.

  His path to the coins took him directly past the squabbling Goompahs, who were hurling threats and making gestures at each other. Digger got jostled by one of the combatants, who turned in surprise and looked for the offender. “Kay-lo,” he growled, or something very much like it.

  The largest of the coins was about the size of a silver ten-dollar piece. It looked like bronze. A plant or tree was engraved on it, and a series of characters around the edge. In God We Trust. It was roughly made, the product of a primitive die, but it would be a priceless artifact to take home.

  “Don’t do it, Digger.” Jack’s voice was stern.

  “It won’t hurt anything.”

  “No.”

  “It’ll help the translators.”

  Silence. Jack was thinking it over.

  Digger would have liked to leave something in exchange, another coin, preferably, but he had nothing like that available. He’d think of something later. Come back tomorrow. Behind him, the combatants were drifting apart, issuing a few final threats before calling the whole thing off.

  He scooped up the ten-dollar piece and turned quickly away.

  The shopkeeper screeched. The sound stopped Digger cold because he thought he’d been too quick to be observed, thought the shopkeeper had been distracted by the dispute.

  But he was staring directly at Digger. And beginning to babble. Others turned his way and moaned.

  “Digger,” said Jack. “Your hand.”

  To the Goompahs the coin must have been afloat in the air. Part of it, the part covered by his hand, would have been missing altogether. He tried to adjust his grip, but it was too big. He was about to slip it into his vest when a large green paw tried to close over it. The thing held on and he couldn’t let go. One of the creatures growled, and another barged into him. Somehow one got hold of his belt. They went down struggling and suddenly the one with his belt let go, drew back with a terrified expression, and howled. The coin got knocked away.

  They were shrieking and squealing and scrambling desperately to get away from him. He realized to his horror that he was visible. They were screaming “Zhoka!” over and over, and the pitch was going high. He didn’t know what it meant but it was obviously not good.

  He got his hands on his belt, turned the lightbender field back on, and was relieved to see that it still worked. He tried to scramble away from the mob. But the Goompahs were running for their lives. Jack cried out and damned him for an idiot. Digger was knocked sideways and trampled. He went down with his hands over his head, thinking how there’s no safe harbor in a stampede for an invisible man. He took kicks in the ribs and head, and something that felt like a pile of lumber fell on him.

  When it was over, he staggered to his feet. The street was empty, save for a few injured Goompahs trying to drag themselves away. And Jack’s ghostly form lying quite still.

  Digger hurried over to him and killed the e-suits. Jack’s head lolled to one side. He tried mouth-to-mouth. Pounded on his chest.

  Nothing.

  A last lingering Goompah blundered into them, fell, moaned, and got up running.

  LIBRARY ENTRY

  . Other people have families. I have only my work. The only thing that I really ask of this life is that I do something at some point that my colleagues consider worth remembering. If I can be reasonably assured of that, I will face my own exit, however it may come, with serenity.

  — Jack Markover

  Diary, March 4, 2234

  (Written shortly after discovering the Goompahs)

  chapter 19

  On the ground at Lookout.

  Tuesday, May 6.

  OTHER THAN REACTIVATE the lightbenders, Digger didn’t know what to do. He told Kellie that Jack was dead, but she didn’t have to ask him how it happened because he poured it out. Damned coin. All I did was pick up a coin and they all went crazy. My fault. He’s dead, and it’s my fault.

  “Take it easy, Digger,” she said. “Sometimes things just go wrong.” A long pause. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure!”

  “Okay.”

  “He told me not to do it.” He was sitting in the middle of the street. It was dusty and bleak. There was still a crowd of the things, and every time he moved, the dust moved, and the Goompahs groaned and pointed and backed away.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Right where he fell.” In broad daylight. On the street. A couple of the Goompahs had been hurt, and others were creeping cautiously closer, trying to help, probably asking what happened.

  “We have to get him out of there.”

  “He’s a little heavy.” Even in the slightly reduced gravity, Digger couldn’t have gone very far with him. Jack’s face was pale. The features, which had been twisted with agony when Digger first got to him, were at rest now. There was no heartbeat and his neck appeared to be broken. “I’ve tried everything I can, Kellie.”

  “Okay, Digger. You have to keep calm.”

  “Kellie, don’t start on me.”

  She ignored the comment. “You want me to come?
”

  “No. Stay with the lander.”

  “I mean, with the lander.”

  “No. My God, you’ll panic the town.”

  “Can you commandeer a cart maybe? Get him to a place where I can get to you?”

  “You’re talking about a cart with no driver going down the street?”

  “You’re right. I don’t guess that would work.”

  “Not hardly.” The crowd was closing in again. He hoisted the body onto his back and staggered off with it toward an alley.

  “Digger, I feel helpless.”

  “Me too.” Digger was crushed by guilt. Actually, he told himself, they killed him. The stupid Goompahs. Who would have thought they’d react the way they did? Damned things were dumber than bricks.

  The alley ran between the backs of private homes on one side and what looked like shops on the other. It was empty. He stumbled on and told Kellie what he was doing. “I’ll stay here with him until it gets dark,” he added. “Then we’ll do what we can.”

  HE SET JACK down but saw immediately there was going to be too much traffic. Goompahs coming from the far end, and a couple angling off the street he’d just left. There were some fenced spaces behind the shops, and he chose one and hauled Jack inside.

  “I’m okay,” he told Kellie.

  He settled down to wait. Kellie would have stayed on the circuit with him, but he was in no mood for small talk, and she got the message and signed off. Digger sat wishing he could go back and change what he’d done. It was a horrible price to pay for a moment’s stupidity.

  He could see past a chained door into an area that contained a couple of urns and shelves filled with pottery. Goompahs thumped around inside, but no one ever came out into the yard. For which he was grateful.

  The sun crossed the midpoint overhead and slipped into the western sky. Voices drifted down the alley. Doors opened and closed, animals brayed and slurped, and once he heard someone apparently beating a rug.

  Jack’s body began to stiffen.

  He talked to Jack during the course of the afternoon, but quickly broke off when he found himself apologizing. No point to that. Instead he promised to do what he could to make the mission successful. That’s what Jack would have wanted, and Digger would make it happen. It was the only way he could think to ease his conscience.

  The rain clouds that had been threatening the area off and on all day grew dark and ominous, but in the end there were only a few sprinkles, and they blew away.

  The streets became noisier as darkness fell. The relatively subdued crowds haggling over prices were replaced by Goompahs out to enjoy the evening. Traffic in the alley stopped. For a while oil lamps burned in the shop, but they went out as the first stars appeared. Doors closed and bolts rattled home.

  Kellie checked with him occasionally. He’d calmed down during the course of the day, had gone back and forth between blaming the Goompahs and himself, would have liked to pass off responsibility, but kept coming back to the warning from Jack. Don’t do it. Jack had known what would happen.

  It was almost midnight before he decided the attempt could be made in relative safety. Even then a few Goompahs were still hanging about in cafés.

  “On my way,” said Kellie.

  They caught a break. She came in from the sea, and as far as Digger could tell, no one saw the lander descend over the rooftops. The Goompahs in the cafés were singing and laughing and having a good time, and they stayed in the cafés. Kellie hovered high, above rooftop level, and threw down a line. Digger looped it around his harness and secured it beneath Jack’s arms. When he was ready, he took a deep breath. Dangling from a lander wasn’t his idea of a good time. “Okay,” he said. “Ready to go.”

  SHE FOUND A deserted beach and took it back down. When they were all on the ground she climbed out, embraced him, looked sadly at Jack, and embraced him again. “I’m sorry, Dig,” she said.

  They returned him to the Jenkins and conducted a memorial service. Jack had not been affiliated, but he’d occasionally commented that he would have liked to believe in the idea of a God who so loved the world—so they read a few appropriate passages out of the Bible. And they said good-bye to him.

  When it was finished Kellie told him to get a drink, and she would take care of putting the body in storage. In the light onboard gravity, that wouldn’t be a problem, so he gratefully accepted the offer.

  While she was below, he opened one of the bottles that Mark had brought in the day before—it seemed like a different age now—and poured two glasses, setting one aside.

  It occurred to him that he had his wish—that he was finally alone with Kellie.

  HE FILED A report in the morning, accepting full responsibility. But he kept the statement general, not mentioning the coin, merely stipulating that he’d been momentarily careless and been consequently detected, and that the crowd had panicked. He added that he understood they would probably want to pull him out. If that was their decision, he would comply. But he asked that he be allowed to stay on, to finish the mission.

  Meantime, there were pickups to be distributed around the isthmus. They returned to the glade, but when Digger started to leave, Kellie announced her intention to go with him.

  “Too dangerous,” he said.

  “That’s exactly why you need someone else along.”

  They argued about it, but Digger’s heart was never in it, and after he felt he’d convinced her of his basic willingness to go it alone, he agreed, and they started out.

  By midday they were back at the scene of the riot. The garment district. Life had returned to normal, and if the Goompahs were talking about the previous day’s events, it was impossible to know. The merchant from whom he’d tried to pilfer the coin was still at his stand, and seemed immersed in hawking his wares.

  “Let’s get some recordings,” said Kellie, all business, and probably determined not to let him think about yesterday.

  A couple of blocks west of the shopping district lay an area dominated by parks and public buildings. One of the structures had signboards outside, rather like the ones you might still see near small country churches in the southern NAU. They took pictures and went inside.

  A broad hallway with a high, curving roof ran to the rear of the building. There were large doors on both sides, and a few Goompahs wandering about, lost in the sheer space. Goompah voices came from one of the side rooms.

  Digger looked in and saw several gathered around a table. They might have been debating something, but it was hard to tell. Goompahs seemed to put more energy into speaking than humans did. The laughter was louder, the points were made more vociferously, the negotiation was more demonstrative. In this group, voices were raised, and tempers seemed frayed.

  “Fight coming,” said Kellie.

  Digger doubted it. “I think they just like to argue.”

  “They don’t hide their feelings, do they?”

  “Not much.” Digger walked quietly into the room and planted a pickup on a shelf that was crowded with scrolls, aiming it so it got a decent view of the table. Then they went back out into the hall.

  “Bill,” Digger said. “First unit’s up. How’s reception?”

  “Loud and clear. Picture’s five by. What’s the argument about?”

  “One of them was cheating at poker.”

  “Really? Do they play poker here?”

  Digger grinned. “Bill has no sense of humor.”

  Kellie squeezed his arm. “Sure he does. He did that last line deadpan.”

  THEY WENT INTO other buildings and placed more pickups. They set a few around some of the shops and hid others in the parks.

  The parks were everywhere. They were furnished with gorgeous purple blooming trees and cobblestone walkways and flowering plants in a stirring array of colors. There were benches, low and wide, impossible for either Digger or Kellie to use, but perfect for the locals. And there were statues, usually of Goompahs, sometimes of animals. One, depicting several winged Goompahs, for
med the centerpiece among a group of walkways. The subjects were displayed in licentious poses. They wore no clothes, although genitals were discreetly hidden. The females, they could now confirm, did have breasts on the order of human mammaries.

  “Incredible,” said Digger, just before a cub—what did you call a young Goompah? — crashed into him and sent them both sprawling. But none of the adults noticed anything unusual. The pup squalled and pointed at the spot where Digger had been standing and looked puzzled. A female helped him to his feet and chattered at him. Watch where you’re going, Jason.

  Two teams of seven players engaged in a game that looked remarkably like soccer. On another field, riders on the fat horses careered about, chasing a ball and apparently trying to unseat each other, using paddles as swatters. Small crowds gathered to watch both events. At the swatting-match, it was hard to tell whether it was an individual sport or teams were competing. If the latter, Digger could see no way to distinguish the players. But the crowd got involved, jumped up and down, stomped their feet, and cheered loudly whenever someone fell out of his saddle.

  KELLIE WAS MOVING too quickly for him. Digger had not entirely adjusted to using the lightbender. Not being able to see his own body, but only a luminous silhouette, still threw him off-balance. He hadn’t been aware that he watched his feet so much when he walked.

  “You all right, Dig?” Kellie asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  They were walking near the north end of the park, an area lined with fruit trees. In fact, Athens almost seemed to have been built within a huge grove. Greenery was everywhere, and edibles just hung out there waiting for someone with an appetite. No wonder these creatures seemed to have so much time for leisure.

  “This place might be like some of the South Sea islands,” said Digger. “Everything you need grows on the vine, so nobody has to work.”

  THEY SPENT THE afternoon trying to analyze how the city functioned. This looks like a public building, probably the seat of government. And that is maybe a courthouse or police station. (Digger had seen a uniformed functionary going in.) I’d say that’s a library over there. And look at this, a Grand Square of some sort, where the citizens probably gather to vote on issues proposed by the town council. “You think they vote here, Digger?”