Omega к-4

by Джек Макдевитт

  “Yes, Digger.”

  The picture broke up, came back, broke up again.

  “There’s a lot of interference,” said Bill. “The wave should be imminent,” he added.

  They saw the sea beginning to rise. A large wave became a wall of water and kept getting bigger. It raced across the surf. The birds scattered, and the ocean spilled onto the beach, submerged the trees, and crashed against a series of ridges.

  “About twelve meters,” Bill said.

  Marge’s voice broke in: “It’ll be about the same when it gets to the Intigo.”

  Digger breathed a sigh of relief. It was high, and it would raise hell with the cities, but most of the refugees should be out of reach.

  “There are at least three follow-on waves,” Marge continued. “All appear to be less of a threat.”

  “What about the other direction?” asked Whit.

  “How do you mean?” asked Julie.

  “The round-the-world mission. Are they still cruising the coastline?”

  “Skies are heavy in the region.” said Bill. “And we don’t have a satellite in the area.”

  “They’d have to be,” said Digger. “Is that a problem?”

  “Pretty much,” said Marge. “They need to be in deep water.”

  Avery Whitlock’s Notebooks

  I cannot help wondering what has been, for the Goompahs, the more terrifying aspect of this business: The threat posed by the omega, or the appearance of the goddess?

  — December 15

  chapter 47

  On board the Regunto on the eastern ocean.

  Ninety-fifth day of the voyage.

  TELIO HAD BEEN hardly a week at sea when he was ready to turn and go back home. That reaction had surprised him, because he’d spent much of his adult life as a sailor and fisherman, moving up and down the coast of the Intigo. He’d even been on an exploratory mission ten years earlier, when they’d pushed into the regions where the sun was in the middle of the sky and the air became hot beyond what one could bear. It was the longest foray in modern history, made under Hagli Kopp, as fine a captain as ever sailed. He wished the current captain, who commanded all three vessels, were of his quality.

  Not that he wasn’t competent. But Mogul Krolley lacked the fire and presence of Kopp, whose sailors would have followed him anywhere. In the stifling heat, Kopp had called them together. Scholars maintained that the boiling air did not go on forever, he said, that if one could break through the barrier, the seas would become cool again. The captain did not know for certain what conditions were like farther on. He suspected the scholars were correct, but he told the crew candidly they had reached a point from which going ahead would, in his view, be foolhardy. He did not wish to risk their lives. Or, he admitted with a chuckle, his own.

  And so they had turned around and, as the first mate put it, lived to go home.

  There were no natural barriers to an east—west voyage, no heat in one direction or ice in the other. But there was the haunting possibility that they were sailing on an endless sea. Or that there was an abrupt edge of things, as some warned. The notion that they could proceed east and eventually would come upon their own west coast had seemed plausible, and even likely, back in the cafés and sloshen. But out here, on the broad sea, it approached absurdity.

  They had indeed found a continent, and they’d spent sixteen days examining its harbors and rivers, looking for Saniusar or Mandigol or T’Mingletep. But this was Korbi Incognita. Unknown country.

  Should the occasion arise, Telio did not think Krolley would have the self-assurance to admit failure, to recognize reality and accept defeat. It was more likely that he would press on, that if this wasn’t the Intigo, he’d look for a way to pass through it, a river, a series of lakes, whatever was needed. He was rumored to have considered the possibility of abandoning the ships, if necessary, to travel overland, and build new vessels when they found the sea again on the far side. If indeed there was a far side.

  That had led to talk that the world might not be constructed in the form of an infinite sea with scattered landmasses, that Korbs only thought that because they lived near ocean. But it could well be that it was land that went on forever, with occasional stretches of water. Who knew? Telio was certain only that he was ready to concede failure and go home. He thought of himself as being as courageous as the next person, but he also knew that, when the evidence was in, it was prudent to draw the proper conclusions and react accordingly. There was no point being an idiot. The way was blocked.

  Which brought him back to Captain Krolley.

  The thought of a mutiny never crossed his mind. It would never have occurred on any Korb ship. It wasn’t that authority was held inviolate, but that a contract entered into voluntarily was sacred, regardless of circumstance.

  They had adequate water and stores on board, having just filled up a few days earlier. And the only immediate problem they faced was that many of the sailors, like Telio, had had enough of the open sea and simply yearned to go home.

  Telio missed Moorka, missed all the females in his genus, missed the evenings on the Boulevard with his brothers, missed his son, now about to have a child of his own.

  He hadn’t realized it would be this way. He’d expected to be gone for a couple of years, but he’d thought the time would be spent pushing forward across an open sea, and not poking into endless bays and rivers along a vast landmass. Moorka had asked him not to go, but he’d explained how he’d always wanted to sail past the sunrise, to be part of the great mission that people always talked about but never seemed to get around to launching. He had joined a group years earlier for such an effort, but funding had never appeared. And he’d spent his life since regretting the lost opportunity.

  Well, he’d gotten past that piece of stupidity, at least. When he got home, he’d stay there and enjoy his family, and never again sail out of sight of the Intigo. And he’d leave the adventuring to those young enough, and dumb enough, to want it.

  He wondered what Moorka was doing. That was most difficult of all, lost out here on the sea and no one near with whom he could slake his passions. No luminous eyes watching him in the night, no soft cheek on the pillow beside him. It was an unnatural way to live, and it reminded him of the old argument that the gods had given the Intigo to the Korbs with the understanding that everything else was a divine realm, that the Korbs were to stay in their assigned lands. And to remind them of that truth, the gods had sealed it off, heat to the north and ice to the south, and the boundless ocean on either side.

  He looked up at the sky. The sun was bright, but a storm was coming. He could smell it in the wind. And he was almost grateful. The heavy clouds would conceal them from the thing in the night sky. Almost everyone believed that the apparition was intended to warn them to go back. To remind them of the Covenant.

  It was impossible to know what Krolley thought. Few of the men would have dared mention their doubts to him. Although Telio had made up his mind that he would do it, next time he had the opportunity. He’d asked the officer of the rigging whether he thought they’d come too far, that they’d offended the gods, and the officer had smiled and shrugged it off. Ridiculous, he’d said. Don’t worry about it, Telio. If a divine ordinance prohibited what they were doing, did he think they’d still be afloat?

  But afterward he’d seen him talking seriously to the executive officer.

  The ships had been moving south along the new continent. And, as at home, it was getting colder with each passing day.

  Telio watched the wild coastline drift by on his left. The Hasker was running behind them, closer to shore and out of their wake. The Benventa stood farther out to sea.

  The plan was to proceed south until they could round the continent, or, as the crewmen said, until they froze. Whichever came first.

  If any candidate for a passage through the continent presented itself, they would try that, but there’d been nothing even remotely promising for several days. Many of Telio’s compa
triots back home would be surprised to learn there was another major landmass. Most thought there was only the one on which the Korbs lived. It had, at one time, been an article of faith.

  They’d sent landing parties in twice since arriving on these shores. The water was good, and there was plenty of game. But the animals were unlike any they had seen before. The trees were different; as were many of the bushes and shrubs. And one of the crewmen had been attacked and killed by a terrible creature of enormous size. His companions had riddled it with arrows, and they’d dragged the thing down to the beach for everyone to gawk at. It had fangs and claws and fur the color of the woods in which it traveled. Witnesses to the attack said it had reared up on its hind legs.

  It reminded Telio of the keeba, which could be found in the lands north of Saniusar. But this thing was bigger, even in death. Well, it wasn’t as if the captain hadn’t warned them to be careful. There’ll be wild beasts, he’d told them before the first group went ashore. And there might even be tribes of savage Korbs.

  Now there was a chilling thought.

  TELIO WAS SUPPOSED to be mending sails, but one of the crew had fallen from a spar and sprained his wrist. Telio had some experience as an apothecary, and he doubled sometimes as ship’s surgeon. There was a fully qualified surgeon on the voyage, but he was on the Hasker, and would only be called in the event of serious injury.

  Telio put soothing gel on the damaged limb, wrapped it, and warned the crewman not to try to use it until Telio had looked at it again. He was just putting away his ointments and wraps when a sudden burst of wind struck the ship. It came without warning and was of such violence that it almost capsized them.

  The captain ordered the fleet to haul down some sail. The sky began to darken. The blow was out of the east, a change in direction for they’d been riding with the westerlies throughout the voyage. The sea had been rough all day, but it had gotten abruptly worse while Telio was below mending the crewman. The ship rode up one side of a wave and crashed down the other. As he watched, all three ships turned to starboard, to put distance between themselves and the shoreline.

  Rain began to fall and quickly became torrential. The crew secured the hatches and tied everything down. Lightning ran through the sky.

  There was no longer anyone on the Regunto who did not fear the sunset. Night would bring T’Klot, rising black and terrible over the new continent. It was impossible to set aside the notion it was coming after them.

  After a time the rain blew off, and they were running again before a gentle northwesterly wind. The sea turned to glass, and the world grew quiet.

  The Regunto adjusted its sails and glided beside silver cliffs.

  The captain came out on deck, wandering among his deck-hands, reassuring them, finding things to laugh about. Telio watched for an opportunity to take him aside.

  When it came, he asked if he might have a moment of his time. “If you’ll excuse my brashness, sir.”

  “Of course,” he said, glancing at the deck lieutenant, who framed Telio’s name with his lips. “That was a quick storm, wasn’t it?” And, without waiting for an answer: “What can I do for you, Telio?”

  Telio looked up at the Korbs working in the masts, adjusting the sails. “Indeed it was, sir,” he said.

  Krolley was tall, lean, with mottled skin and a serene disposition. There was much of the scholar about him: deliberate speech, careful diction, intelligent eyes with a golden cast. He was always impeccably dressed. His posture was perfect, his expression composed. Even now, after a heavy storm during which he certainly had not had time to change, he looked well turned out. It was almost as if he was always ready for someone to carve his image.

  “Captain, some of us are worried about T’Klot.”

  Krolley bobbed his head up and down. “Ah. Yes.” He smiled at the deck lieutenant, a smile that indicated this is the sort of triviality about which the seamen concern themselves. The lower classes. Not to be taken too seriously. “It’s all right, Telio. It’s simply a weather phenomenon. It will be passing us by in a few more days.”

  “Captain—”

  He patted Telio on the shoulder. “It’s nothing to fret over. Just pay it no attention, and I think you’ll find it will pay none to you.”

  He started to walk away, but Telio stayed with him. “Captain, the thing is not natural. It isn’t just a storm we can run from. There is some suspicion among the crew that it is after us.”

  The deck lieutenant tried to interpose himself, and gave Telio a strong look. He’d be scraping down the decks for the next few days. “Telio.” Krolley was being careful because a number of the crewmen had gathered around and were listening. “You’re a scholar. An apothecary. You know, as I do, that the world is not governed by supernatural forces.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore, sir,” he said.

  “Pity.” The captain studied him closely. “Keep your nerve, Telio. And your good sense.”

  BLACK CAT REPORT

  Ron, it’s early afternoon on the Intigo. The pictures you see are courtesy of surveillance equipment inserted by the Academy of Science and Technology. This is a view of the harbor area at Roka. There’s a map available on our alternate channel.

  Anyhow, it’s quiet there now. The rain has stopped—it’s been raining across the isthmus on and off all day. We don’t see anyone out on foot. There are still some Goompahs who’ve stayed behind. Probably older ones. And it looks as if some who might otherwise have gotten out have stayed with them.

  This is the way it looks all across the Intigo. I’m tempted to say there’s a sense of waiting for something to happen. But that’s subjective. I know tidal waves are coming. The inhabitants have no idea. Although they are certainly aware that they are facing a severe hazard tonight.

  This is Rose Beetem, near Lookout.

  ARCHIVE

  We are adrift in a divine tide. Those whom the gods love will find themselves carried to a friendly and amicable shore. Others, not so fortunate, will be dragged into the depths. The terrible reality is that those of us embarked on life’s journey cannot readily separate one from the other, nor have we any idea which will claim us.

  — Gesper of Sakmarung

  The Travels

  (Translated by Nick Harcourt)

  chapter 48

  Lookout.

  En route across the eastern ocean.

  Monday, December 15.

  THEY WERE THREE hours out from the Intigo and threading their way through storms, crosswinds, and downdrafts, when Bill informed them they were passing over the eastbound tsunamis. The sky had cleared off, save for occasional clouds and lightning. The ocean was churning, but there was no sign of giant waves. “Don’t expect to see much,” said Bill. “We’re over deep water.”

  Tsunamis only manifest themselves in shallows. Digger had been researching Bill’s library, and there were stories of people in small boats going over them without ever knowing it. That happened because the bulk of the wave was submerged. When the ocean became shallow, the water had no place to go, and, consequently, it pushed high into the air, forming the wave.

  “Traveling at 630 kph,” said Bill. “I still make out three of them. Big one’s in front. They’ll hit about fifteen minutes apart.”

  “One for each ship,” said Julie. “Tell me again how we’re going to do this.”

  Digger had seen her disapproval the first time he’d explained the plan. “Same way we did things on the isthmus. We’ll use the Lykonda projection.”

  “Okay. What is she going to tell them?”

  “Bill,” he said, “run the program for Julie.”

  Lykonda appeared on the overhead. The implication that she’d been through a struggle was gone. Her garments were white and soft, and an aura blazed around her. She said that it was essential for the ships to turn west and to continue straight out to sea until she told them to do otherwise.

  When he’d translated for Julie, she frowned again. “What happens,” she asked, “if the wind
is blowing in the wrong direction?”

  He hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Can’t they tack against the wind or something?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Whit.

  She smiled patiently. “If a goddess gave me that kind of command, I’d expect she would supply the wind.”

  Digger didn’t know which way the wind would be blowing when they reached the eastern continent. He did know that where they were it seemed to be blowing out of all directions at once.

  He’d been considering another idea: They had a sim library on board, which would unquestionably include the previous year’s big horror hit, Fang. The show had featured batwinged horrors that would have scared the pants off the Goompahs. If those things came out of the forests and seemed to be attacking the ships, there was no question which way the ships would turn. It would save a lot of talk. But it still wouldn’t work if the winds weren’t right.

  “We need Marge,” said Whit. But they’d lost all contact with the Jenkins.

  “Something else to think about,” said Julie. “The waves are going to get there less than an hour after we do. These are only sailing ships. Even with a good wind behind them, they aren’t going to get far in an hour.” She sighed and shook her head. “Small wooden boats. I wouldn’t give them much of a chance.”

  “You have a better suggestion?”

  “I’d tell them to land and climb trees.”

  Digger was tired and unnerved. He knew Goompahs were going to die in substantial numbers before this was over, and he was in no mood for Julie’s acerbic humor. “Just let it go, will you?” he said.

  Whit caught his eye and sent him a silent message. Cool down. She’s telling you stuff you don’t want to hear, but you’d better listen.

  As they proceeded east they were headed into the late afternoon. Digger wanted to bring off the warning, do whatever they could, and get clear before night came.