by David Brin
“Yes, I had a good view. I am eager to hear what our dear esteemed friend learned.”
With a theatrical wave of his arm, Bubbacub asked everyone to listen in.
“It said that it is old. I be-lieve it. It is ver-y old race.”
Yes, Jacob thought. That’s the first thing Bubbacub would find out.
“The Sol-ar-ians say that they killed the chimp. LaRoque killed him too. They will start to kill hu-mans also, if they do not leave f or-ever.”
“What?” deSilva cried, “What are you talking about? how could LaRoque and the Ghosts be responsible!”
“Re-main calm, I urge you,” the voice of the Pil, moderated by the Vodor, carried a tone of threat. “The Sol-ar-ian told me that they caused the man to do the thing. They gave him his rage. They gave him a need to kill. They gave him the truth as well.”
Jacob finished summarizing Bubbacub’s remarks to Dr. Martine.
“. . . Then he finished by saying that there was only one way that the Ghosts could have influenced LaRoque from such a distance. And if they used that method it explained the lack of Library references. Anywhere anyone uses that power is taboo, closed off. Babbacub wants us to stick around just long enough to check and then get the hell out of here.”
“What power?” Martine asked. She sat with the crude Earth psi helmet in her lap. Nearby Culla listened in, another slender liquitube between his lips.
“It’s not pi-ngrli. That’s used sometimes legally. Besides, it can’t reach that far and he couldn’t find any trace of it anyway. No, I think Bubbacub plans to use that stonelike thing.”
“The Lethani relic?”
“Yes.”
Martine shook her head. She looked down and fiddled with a knob on her helmet.
“It’s so complicated. I don’t understood it at all. Nothing’s gone right ever since we got back to Mercury. No one is what he appears to be.”
“What do you mean?”
The parapsychologist paused, then shrugged.
“Never be sure about anyone . . . I was so sure that Peter’s silly pique with Jeffrey was both genuine and harmless. Now I find that it was artificially induced and deadly. And he was right, I guess, about the Solarians, too. Only it wasn’t his idea, it was theirs.”
“Do you think they really are our long lost Patrons?”
“Who knows?” she said. “If it’s true, it’s a tragedy that we can’t ever come back here again to talk to them.”
“Then you accept Bubbacub’s story without reservations?”
“Yes, of course! He’s the only one who’s ever made contact and besides, I know him. Bubbacub would never mislead us. Truth is his life’s work!”
But Jacob knew, now, of whom she spoke when she said “never be sure you know anyone.” Dr. Martine was terrified.
“Are you sure that Bubbacub was the only one to make any sort of contact?”
Her eyes widened, then she looked away. “He seems to be the only one with the ability.”
“Then why did you stay behind with your helmet on, when Bubbacub called us together for his report?”
“I don’t have to take a cross-examination from you!” she answered hotly. “If it’s any of your business, I stayed to try once more. I was jealous of his success and wanted another go at it! I failed, of course.”
Jacob was unconvinced. Marline’s testiness seemed uncalled for and it was clear she knew more than she was saying.
“Dr. Martine,” he said, “what do you know about a drug called ‘Warfarin’?”
“You too!” she reddened. “I told the Base Physician I never heard of it, and I certainly don’t know how any got into Dwayne Kepler’s medicine. That is, if there ever was any in the first place!”
She turned away. “I think I’d better rest now, if you don’t mind. I want to be awake when the Solarians come back.”
Jacob ignored her hostility; a bit of the toughness of his other self must have leaked out with the suspicion. But it was obvious Martine wouldn’t say any more. He rose to his feet. She pointedly ignored him as she lowered her couch.
Culla met him by the refreshment machines. “You are upshet, Friend-Jacob?”
“Why no, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
The tall E.T. gazed down at him. He looked tired. The slender shoulders drooped, though the huge eyes were bright.
“I hope you are not taking thish too hard, thish news that Bubbacub hash announced.”
Jacob turned fully from the machines and faced Culla, “Take what too hard, Culla? His statements are data. That’s all. I’d be disappointed if it turned out that Sundiver has to end. And I’ll want some way to verify what he says before I’ll agree that’s necessary . . .like at least a Library reference. But other than that my strongest emotion is curiosity.” Jacob shrugged, irritated at the question. His eyes smarted, probably from an overdose of red light.
Culla slowly shook his large round head. “I think it ish otherwise. Excuse my presumption, but I think you are very dishturbed.”
Jacob felt an instant of hot anger. He almost spoke it, but managed to hold back. “Again, what are you talking about, Culla?” He spoke slowly.
“Jacob, you have done a good job in staying neutral in your species’ remarkable internal conflict. “But all sophontsh have opinionsh. You are badly hurt to find that Bubbacub made contact where humansh fail. Though you have never expreshed a position on the Origin Question, I know you are not happy to find that humanity did indeed have Patronsh.”
Jacob shrugged again.
“It’s true, I’m still not convinced by this story of Solarians uplifting mankind in the dim past and then abandoning us before the job’s finished. Neither part makes any sense.”
Jacob rubbed his right temple. He felt a headache coming on. “And people have been behaving very peculiarly everywhere in this project. Kepler’s suffered from some sort of unexplained hysteria and was overly dependent on Martine. LaRoque was more than his usual abrasive self, sometimes self-destructively. And don’t forget his alleged sabotage. Then Martine herself turns from an emotional defense of LaRoque to a very strange fear of saying anything that might undermine Bubbacub. It makes me wonder. . .” he paused.
“Perhapsh the Sholarians are responsible for all of thish. If they could make Mishter LaRoque do a murder from so far away, they might have caused other aberrationsh ash well.”
Jacob’s hands balled in fists. He looked up at Culla barely able to choke back his anger. The alien’s bright eyes were oppressive. He didn’t want to be under them.
“Don’t interrupt,” he said, tight-lipped, and as calmly as he could.
He could tell that something was wrong. A cloud seemed to surround him. Nothing was very clear but still there was a felt need to say something important. Anything.
He looked quickly around the deck.
Bubbacub and Martine were at their stations again. Both wore their helmets and looked his way. Martin was talking.
The bitch! Probably she’s telling the gross arrogant little fool everything I said. Toady!
Helene deSilva stopped by the two while making her rounds, taking their attention away from Culla and Jacob. For a moment he felt better. He wished Culla would go away. It was too bad the fellow had to be put down bat a Client must know his place!
DeSilva finished speaking to Bubbacub and Martine, and started to walk toward the refreshment machines. Once again Bubbacub’s small black eyes were on him.
Jacob growled. He swiveled away from the beady stare and faced the beverage machine.
Fuck them all. I came here for a drink and that’s what I’m going to get. They don’t exist anyway!
The machine wavered in front of him. An internal voice was shouting about some sort of emergency but he decided that the voice didn’t exist either.
Now this is a strange machine, he thought. I hope it isn’t like that sneaky one aboard the Bradbury. That one hadn’t been friendly at all.
No, this one has a bunc
h of transparent 3-D buttons that stand out from the others. In fact there are rows and rows of little buttons, all of them standing out in space.
He reached forward to press one at random, then caught himself. Uh-uh. We’ll read the labels this time!
Now what do I want. Coffee?
The little internal voice was screaming for Gyroade. Yes, that’s sensible. A wonderful drink, Gyroade. Not only is it delicious, but it also straightens you out. A perfect drink for a world full of hallucinations.
He had to admit that it might be a good idea to have some at that. Something did seem a little fishy. Why was everything going so slowly?
His hand’moved like a snail toward the button he wanted. It shifted back and-forth a few times but finally he was aimed right for it. He was about to press it when the little voice came back, this time begging him to stop!
Of all the nerve! You give me good advice and then you chicken out. Dammit, who needs you anyway?
He pressed. Time speeded up a little, and he heard the sound of liquid pouring.
Who the hell needs anybody! Damn upstart Culla. Snobby Bubbacub and his fish-cold human consort. Even crazy Fagin . . . dragging me away from Earth to this stupid place.
He bent over and pulled the liquitube out of its slot It looked delicious. . .
Time speeded up now, almost back to normal. He already felt better, as if a great pressure was relieved. Antagonisms and hallucinations seemed to fade away. He smiled at Helene deSilva as she approached. Then he turned to smile at Culla.
Later, he thought, I’ll apologize for being rude. He raised the tube in a toast.
“. . . been hovering around out there, just at the edge of detection.” deSilva was saying. “We’re ready whenever it is so maybe you’d better. . .”
“Shtop, Jacob!” Culla shouted.
DeSilva cried out and leaped forward to grab his hand. Culla joined in, adding his own slight strength to pull the tube away from his lips.
Spoilsports, he thought amiably. Show a puny alien and a ninety-year old woman what a mal can do.
He pulled them off one by one, but they kept attacking. The Commandant even tried some nasty disabling shots but he parried them and brought the drink to his face slowly, triumphantly.
A wall broke and the sense of smell he hadn’t known he’d lost returned like a steamroller. He coughed once and looked down at the vile concoction in his hand.
It steamed brown and poisonous with lumps and bubbles. He threw it away. Everyone was looking at him. Culla chattered from the floor where he’d been thrown. DeSilva stood up warily. The other humans were gathering around.
He could hear Fagin’s concerned whistle coming from somewhere. Where is Fagin, he thought as he stumbled forward. He made it three steps and then collapsed onto the deck in front of Bubbacub.
He came around slowly. It was difficult because his forehead was so tight. The skin felt stretched like the leather on a drum. But it wasn’t dry like leather. It kept getting wet, first with perspiration and then with something else, something cool.
He groaned and brought his hand up. It touched skin, someone else’s hand, warm and soft. Female, he could tell by the smell.
Jacob opened his eyes. Dr. Martine sat nearby; with a washcloth in her brown hand. She smiled and bought out a liquitube to hold to his lips.
For a moment he started, then he bent forward to take a sip. It was lemonade, and it tasted wonderful
He finished it off while he looked around himself. The couches scattered on the deck were filled with recumbent figures.
He looked up. The sky was almost black!
“We’re on our way back,” Martine said.
“How . . .” he could feel his larynx hum from disuse. “How long have I been under?”
“About twelve hours.”
“Was I sedated?”
She nodded. The Perpetual Professional Smile was back. But it didn’t seem so put-on now. He brought a hand to his forehead. It still hurt.
“Then I guess I didn’t dream it. What was it I tried to drink yesterday?”
“It was an ammonia compound that we brought along for Bubbacub. It probably wouldn’t have killed you. But it would have hurt, a lot.
“Can you tell me why you did it?”
Jacob allowed his head to settle back against the cushion. “Well. . . it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time.”
He shook his head. “Seriously, I guess something went wrong with me. But I’ll be damned if I know what it was.”
“I should have known something was wrong when you started saying strange things about murders and conspiracies,” she nodded. “It’s partly my fault for not recognizing the signs. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I think it’s just a case of orientation shock. A Sunship dive can be an awful disorienting experience, in so many ways!”
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
“Well, you’re right about that last part for sure. But it just occurred to me that some people are probably thinking I was influenced.’1
Martine started, as if surprised to find him so alert so soon.
“Yes,” she said. “In fact Commandant deSilva thought it was the Ghost’s work. She said they were probably demonstrating their psi powers to prove their point. She even started talking about shooting back. The theory has merits but I prefer my own.”
“That I went crazy?”
“Oh no, not at all! Just disoriented and confused! Culla said you were behaving . . . abnormally in the minutes before your . . . accident. That, plus my own observations. . .”
“Yes,” Jacob nodded. “I owe Culla a real apology . . . Ohmigosh! He wasn’t hurt, was he? Or Helene?” He started to rise.
Martine pushed him back. “No, no, everyone is okay. Don’t worry. I’m sure the only concern anyone had was for your welfare.”
Jacob dropped back. He looked down at the empty liquitube. “May I have another?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Martine left him alone. He could hear her soft footsteps move toward the refreshment center . . . the place where the “accident” occurred. He winced as he thought about it. He felt shame mixed with disgust. But most of all there was the burning question, WHY?
Somewhere behind him two people spoke softly. Dr. Martine must have met somebody at the R.C.
Jacob knew that sooner or later he would have to make a dive that made Sundiver seem tame. That trance would be a lulu, but it would have to be taken if the truth was to come out. The only question was when? Now, when it might split his mind wide open?
Or back on Earth, in the presence of therapists at the Center, but where the answers might do him, Sundiver and his job no good at all?
Martine came back. She dropped down beside him and offered full liquitube. Helene deSilva was with her. The Commandant sat next to the parapsychologist
He spent several minutes assuring her that he was all right. She brushed his apologies aside.
“I had no idea you were so good at U.C., Jacob,” she said.
“U.C.?”
“Unarmed combat. I’m pretty good, though I’m rusty I admit. But you’re better. We found out in the surest way, a fight between parties each anxious to disable the other without pain or harm. It’s awful hard to do but you’re an expert.”
He never would have thought it possible to blush at that sort of compliment, but Jacob could feel himself redden.
“Thanks. It’s hard to remember but it seems-you were pretty tricky, too.”
They looked at each other in complete understanding and grinned.
Martine looked from one to the other. She cleared her throat “I don’t think Mr. Demwa should spend too much time talking. A shock like that calls for plenty of rest.”
“I just want to know a few things, Doctor, then I’ll cooperate. First of all, where’s Fagin? I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Kant Fagin is on flip-side,” deSilva said. “He’s taking nourishment.”
“He was very co
ncerned about you. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you’re okay,” Martine said.
Jacob relaxed. For some reason he had been worried about Fagin’s safety.
“Now tell me what happened after I passed out.”
Martine and deSilva shared a glance. Then deSilva shrugged.
“We had another visitation,” she said. “It took quite a while. For several hours the Solarian just fluttered around at the edge of visibility. We’d left the toroid herd far behind and with it all of its fellows.
“It’s a good thing It waited though. We were in an uproar for a while because of, well. . .”
“Because of my attention-grabbing performance,” Jacob sighed. “But did anyone try to make contact while it flittered out there?”
DeSilva looked at Martine. The doctor shook her head very slightly.
“Nothing much was done then,” the Commandant went on hurriedly. “We were still pretty upset. But then, at about fourteen hundred, it disappeared. It came hack a while later in its . . . ‘threatening mode.’ “
Jacob let the interchange between the two women pass. But a thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Say, are you all positive that they were the same Ghosts at all? Maybe the ‘normal’ and ‘threatening’ modes are actually two different species!”
Martine looked blank for a moment. “That could explain . . .” Then she shut up.
“Uh, we aren’t calling them Ghosts anymore,” deSilva said. “Bubbacub says they don’t like it.”
Jacob felt a moment of irritation, but he suppressed it quickly lest either woman notice it. This conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere I
“So what happened when it came in its threatening mode?”
DeSilva frowned.
“Bubbacub talked with it for a while. Then he got angry and made it go away.”
“He what?”
“He tried reasoning with it. Quoted the book on Patron-Client rights. Promised trade, even. It just kept making threats. Said it would send psi messages to Earth and cause disaster of some undescribed sort.
“Finally Bubbacub called it quits. He had everybody lie down. Then he pulled out that lump of iron and crystal he was so secretive about. He ordered everyone to cover their eyes, then said some mumbo jumbo and set the darn thing off!”
