Sundiver

by David Brin

  “What did it do?”

  She shrugged again.

  “The Progenitors only know, Jacob. There was a dazzling light, a feeling of pressure in the ears . . . and when we next looked, the Solarian was gone!

  “Not only that! We went back to where we thought we’d left the toroid herd. It was gone too. There wasn’t a living thing in sight!”

  “Nothing at all?” He thought about the beautiful toruses and their bright multicolored masters.

  “Nothing,” Martine said. “Everything had been scared away. Bubbacub assured us that they hadn’t been harmed.”

  Jacob felt numb. “Well, then at least there’s protection now. We can bargain with the Solarians from a position of strength.”

  DeSilva shook her head sadly.

  “Bubbacub says there can be no negotiation. They’re evil, Jacob. They’ll kill us now, if they can.”

  “But. . .”

  “And we can’t count on Bubbacub anymore. He told the Solarians there’d be vengeance if Earth was ever harmed. But other than that he won’t help. The relic goes back to Pila.”

  She looked down at the deck. Her voice grew husky.

  “Sundiver is finished.”

  PART VI

  The measure of (mental) health is flexibility (not comparison to some ‘norm’),

  the freedom to learn from experience ... to be influenced by reasonable arguments ...

  and the appeal to the emotions ... and especially the freedom to cease when sated.

  The essence of illness is the freezing of behavior into unaltered and insatiable patterns.

  Lawrence Kubie

  17. SHADOW

  The workbench was bare, each tool of its accustomed clutter hanging in uncomfortable disuse from the appropriate hook on the wall. The tools were clean. The scored and pitted tabletop shone under a new layer of wax.

  The stack of partly disassembled instruments which Jacob had shoved aside lay on the floor accusingly, like the chief mechanic, who had watched him in idle suspicion as he appropriated the workbench. Jacob didn’t care. Despite, or perhaps because of the fiasco aboard the Sunship, no one objected when he decided to continue his own studies. The workbench was a large and convenient space for him to use, and nobody else wanted it right now. Besides, it made it less likely he’d be found by Millie Martine.

  In an apse of the huge Sunship Cavern, Jacob could see a sliver of the giant silvery ship, only partly cut off from view by the rock wall. Far overhead the wall arched into a mist of condensation.

  He sat on a high stool in front of the bench. Jacob drew “Zwicky Choiceboxes” on two sheets of paper and laid them out on the table. The pink sheets had a yes or no question written on each, representing alternate possible morphological realities.

  The one on the left read: B IS RIGHT ABOUT S-GHOSTS, YES (I) / NO (II)

  The other sheet was even more difficult to look at: I HAVE FLIPPED OUT, YES (III) / NO (IV).

  Jacob couldn’t let anyone else’s judgment sway him on these questions. That was why he’d avoided Martine and the others since the return to Mercury. Other than paying a courtesy call on the recuperating Dr. Kepler, he had become a hermit.

  The question on the left concerned Jacob’s job, though he couldn’t exclude a linkage with the question on the right.

  The question on the right would be difficult. All emotion would have to be put aside to arrive at the right answer to that one.

  He placed a sheet with the Roman numeral I just below the question on the left, listing the evidence that Bubbacub’s story was correct.

  BOX I: B’s STORY TRUE.

  It made a tidy list. First of all there was the neat self-consistency of the Pil’s explanation for the Sun Ghost’s behavior. It had been known all along that the creatures used some type of psi. The threatening, man-shaped apparitions implied knowledge of man and an unfriendly inclination. “Only” a chimpanzee had been killed, and only Bubbacub could demonstrate successful communication with the Solarians. All this fit in with LaRoque’s story—the one supposedly implanted in his mind by the creatures.

  The most impressive achievement, one that took place while Jacob was unconscious aboard the Sun-ship, was Bubbacub’s feat with the Lethani relic. It was proof that Bubbacub had some contact with the Sun Ghosts.

  To drive one Ghost off with a flash of light might be plausible, (although Jacob was at a loss as to how a being drifting in the brilliant chromosphere could detect anything from the dim ulterior of a Sunship), but the dispersal of the entire herd of magnetovores and herdsmen implied that some powerful force (psi?) must have been the Pil’s means.

  Every one of these elements would have to be reexamined in the course of Jacob’s morphological analysis. But on the face of it, Jacob had to admit that box number I looked true.

  Number II would be a headache, for it assumed the opposite of the proposition in Box I.

  BOX II: B’s STORY WRONG -- (IIA) HE’S MISTAKEN / (IIB) HE’S LYING.

  IIA didn’t give Jacob any ideas. Bubbacub seemed too sure, too confident. Of course, he could have been fooled by the Ghosts themselves . . . Jacob scribbled a note to that effect and put it in position IIA. It was actually a very important possibility, but Jacob couldn’t think of any way to prove or disprove it short of making more dives. And the political situation made more dives impossible.

  Bubbacub, supported by Martine, insisted that any further expeditions would be pointless and probably fatal as well, without the Pil and his Lethani relic along. Oddly enough, Dr. Kepler didn’t fight them. Indeed, it was at his orders that the Sunship was dry-docked, normal maintenance suspended, and even data reduction halted while he conferred with Earth.

  Kepler’s motives puzzled Jacob. For several minutes he stared down at a sheet that said: SIDE ISSUE-KEPLER? Finally he tossed it over on the stack of dis to be on Bubbacub’s head. Jacob was disappointed in the man. He turned to sheet IIB.

  It was appealing to think that Bubbacub was lying. Jacob could no longer pretend any affection for the little Library Representative. He recognized his own personal bias. Jacob wanted IIB to be true.

  Certainly Bubbacub had a motive for lying. The failure of the Library to come up with a reference on solar-type life-forms was an embarrassment to him. The Pil also resented totally independent research by a “wolfling” race. Both problems would be eliminated if Sundiver was cut off in a manner that boosted the stature of ancient science.

  But to hypothesize that Bubbacub lied brought up a whole raft of problems. First, how much of the story was a lie? Obviously the trick with the Lethani relic was genuine. But where else could one draw the line?

  And if Bubbacub lied he had to be awfully sure that he wouldn’t get caught. The Galactic Institutes, especially the Library, relied on a reputation of absolute honesty. They’d have to fry Bubbacub alive if he was found out.

  Box IIB had all of the meat in it. It looked hopeless, but somehow Jacob would have to show that IIB was true or Sundiver was finished.

  This was going to be complicated. Any theory that had Bubbacub lying would have to explain Jeffrey’s death, LaRoque’s anomalous status and behavior, the Sun Ghost’s threatening behavior. . .

  Jacob scribbled a note and tossed it onto sheet IIB.

  SIDE NOTE: TWO TYPES OF SUN GHOSTS? He remembered the remark that no one had ever actually seen a “normal” Sun Ghost turn into the semi-transparent variety that did the threat pantomimes.

  Another thought came to him.

  SIDE NOTE: CULLA’S THEORY THAT SOLARIAN’S PSI EXPLAINS NOT ONLY LR BUT OTHER STRANGE BEHAVIOR AS WELL.

  Jacob was thinking of Martine and Kepler when he wrote that down. But after thinking about it he carefully wrote a second copy of the same remark and tossed it over on the sheet labeled I HAVE FLIPPED OUT—NO(IV)

  The question of his own personal sanity took courage to face. Methodically he listed the evidence that something was wrong, under sheet number III.

  1. BLINDING “LIGHT” BA
CK AT BAJA. The trance he’d entered just before the meeting at the Information Center was the last deep one he’d had. He had been awakened from it by an apparent psychological artifact—a “blueness” that cut through his hypnotic state like a searchlight. But whatever warning his subconscious must have been sending was interrupted when Culla approached.

  2. UNCONTROLLED USE OF MR. HYDE. Jacob knew that the bifurcation of his mind into normal and abnormal parts was a temporary solution at best to a long-range problem. A couple of hundred years ago his state would have been diagnosed schizophrenic. But hypnotic transaction, supposedly, would allow his divided halves to reassemble peacefully under the guidance of his dominant personality. The occasions in which his feral other half pushed through or took control would logically be when it was needed . . . when Jacob had to revert to the cold, hard, supremely confident meddler he once had been.

  Jacob hadn’t been worried, earlier, about his other side’s exploits, so much as embarrassed. For instance, it was logical enough to pilfer samples of Dr. Kepler’s pharmacopoeia on the Bradbury, given what he’d seen so far, although other means to the same ends might have been preferable.

  But some of the things he’d said aboard the Sun-ship to Dr. Martine—they implied either a great deal of justified suspicion churning around in his unconscious, or very deep problems down below.

  3. BEHAVIOR ON SUNSHIP: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE? That one hurt less than he thought it would, when he wrote it. Jacob felt disconcerted by the episode. But strangely, he felt more angry than ashamed, as if he had been made to act like a fool by somebody else.

  Of course that could mean anything, including frantic self-justification, but it didn’t feel that way. Jacob felt no internal resistance when he probed that line of reasoning. Only negation.

  Number three could have been part of an overall pattern of mental decay. Or it might have been an isolated case of disorientation, as diagnosed by Dr. Martine (who since landing had been chasing him all over the base in order to get him into therapy). Or it could have been induced by the something external, as he had already considered.

  Jacob pushed back from the workbench. This would take time. The only way to get anything done would be to take frequent breaks and let ideas filter up from the unconscious, the very unconscious he was investigating.

  Well, that wasn’t the only way, but until he had solved the question of his own sanity he wasn’t about to try the other means.

  Jacob stepped back and began to move his body slowly in the pattern of relaxing positions known as Tai Chi Chuan. The vertebrae in his back crackled from sitting awkwardly on the stool. He stretched and allowed energy to return to parts of his body that had fallen asleep.

  The light jacket he wore bound his shoulders. He stopped the routine and took it off.

  There was a coat rack by the chief mechanic’s office, across the maintenance shop and near the drinking fountain, Jacob walked over to the rack, lightly, on the balls of his feet, feeling taut and energized by the Tai Chi.

  The chief mechanic nodded grumpily when Jacob passed by; the man was obviously unhappy. He sat behind his desk in the foam-paneled office, wearing an expression Jacob had seen a lot of since coming back, especially among the lower echelons. The reminder pricked Jacob’s bubble.

  As he bent over the drinking fountain, Jacob heard a clattering sound. He lifted his head as it repeated, coming from the direction of the ship. Half of the ship was now visible from where he stood. As he walked to the corner of the rock wall, the rest came slowly into view.

  Slowly, the wedge-shaped door of the Sunship descended. Culla and Bubbacub waited at the bottom, holding a long cylindrical machine between them. Jacob ducked behind the rock wall. Now what are those two doing?

  He heard the catwalk extend from the rim of the Sunship’s deck, then the sound of the Pil and Pring pulling the machine up into the ship.

  Jacob rested his back against the rock wall and shook his head. This was too much. If he was given just one more mystery he’d probably really flip out. .. that is if he hadn’t already.

  It sounded like an air compressor was being used inside the ship, or a vacuum cleaner. Clattering and sliding and occasional squeaky Pilan oaths implied that the machine was being dragged all over the interior of the ship.

  Jacob gave in to temptation. Bubbacub and Culla were inside the ship and no one else was in sight.

  In any event there was probably nothing to be lost by being caught spying but the rest of his reputation.

  He bounded up the springy catwalk in a few powerful steps. Near the top of the ramp he flattened and looked inside.

  The machine was a vacuum cleaner. Bubbacub pulled it, his back to Jacob, as Culla manipulated the long rigid suction member at the end of its flexible hose. The Pring shook his head slowly, his dentures chattering softly. Bubbacub shot off a series of sharp yaps at his Client and the chattering increased, but Culla worked faster.

  This was most queer and disturbing. Culla was apparently vacuuming the space between the deck and the curving ship’s wall! Nothing existed there but the force fields that held the deck in place!

  Culla and Bubbacub disappeared around the central dome as they made their way around the rim. At any moment they’d be coming around the other side and facing him this time. Jacob slid back down the ramp a few feet, then descended the rest of the way on foot. He walked back to the apse and sat again on the stool in front of the slips of paper.

  If there was only time! If the central dome had been bigger or Bubbacub’s work slower, he might have found a way to get down into that force-field gap and get a sample of whatever they were collecting. Jacob shuddered at the thought, but it would have been worth a try.

  Or even a picture of Culla and Bubbacub at work! But where could he get a camera in the few minutes he had left?

  There was no way to prove that Bubbacub was up to mischief, but Jacob decided that theory IIB had received a big boost. On a piece of paper he scribbled: B’S DUST OR WHATEVER . . . HALLUCINOGEN RELEASED ON BOARD SHIP? He threw it on that pile, then hurried over to the chief mechanic’s office.

  The man grumbled when Jacob asked him to come along. He claimed that he had to sit by his phone and said he couldn’t imagine where a regular still camera could be found nearby. Jacob thought the fellow was lying but he had no time to argue. He had to get to a phone.

  There was one set on the wall near the corner where he watched Culla and Bubbacub climb the ramp. But as he raised it he wondered who he could call, and what he could say.

  Hello, Dr. Kepler? Remember me, Jacob Demwa? The guy who tried to kill himself on one of your Sunships? Yeah . . . well I’d like you to come down here and watch Pil Bubbacub do spring cleaning. . .

  No, that wouldn’t do. By the time anyone got down here Culla and Bubbacub would be gone and his call would be another item on his list of public aberrations.

  That thought struck Jacob.

  Did I just imagine the whole thing? There was no sound of a vacuum cleaner now. Only silence. The whole thing was so damnably symbolic anyway . . .

  From around the corner came a squeal, Pilan curses, and a clattering of falling machinery. Jacob closed his eyes for a moment. The sound was beautiful. He risked a peek around the edge.

  Bubbacub stood at the bottom of the ramp holding one end of the vacuum cleaner, the bristles around his eyes jutting starkly on end, and his fur stuck out in a ruff around his collar. The Pil glared at Culla, who fumbled with the catch of the machine’s dust bag. A small pile of red powder leaked from the opening.

  Bubbacub snorted in disgust as Culla scooped handfuls of powder together and then turned the reassembled machine on the pile. Jacob was sure a handful went, instead of to the pile, into the pocket of Culla’s silvery tunic.

  Bubbacub kicked the remaining dust around until it blended with the floor. Then, after a furtive glance on all sides that sent Jacob’s head jetting back behind the wall, he barked a quick command and led Culla back to the elevators.
>
  When he returned to the workbench, Jacob found the chief mechanic looking over the scattered sheets of his morphological analysis. The man looked up when he approached.

  “What was that all about?” he pointed his chin toward the Sunship.

  “Oh, nothing,” Jacob answered. He chewed on his cheek gently for a moment. “Just some Eatees messing around with the ship.”

  “With the ship?” The chief mechanic came erect. “Is that what you were jabbering about before? Why the hell didn’t you say so!?”

  “Wait, hold up!” Jacob held the man’s arm as he turned to hurry to the Sunship cradle. “It’s too late, they’re gone. Besides, figuring out what they’re up to will take more than just catching them in the act of doing something strange. Strangeness is what Eatees are best at anyway.”

  The engineer looked at Jacob as if for the first time. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “You have a point. But maybe now you’d better tell me what you saw.”

  Jacob shrugged and told the whole story, from hearing the sound of the hatch opening to the comedy of the spilled powder.

  “I don’t get it,” the chief mechanic scratched his head.

  “Well, don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’ll take more than one clue to get this buttock-beeper placed.”

  Jacob sat again on the stool and began scribbling carefully on several sheets.

  C. HAS SAMPLE OF PWDR . . . WHY? DANGEROUS TO ASK HIM TO SHARE?

  IS C. WILLING ACCOMPLICE? FOR HOW LONG?

  GET A SAMPLE! ! !

  “Hey, what are you doing here, anyway,” the chief mechanic asked.

  “I’m chasing clues.”

  After a moment of silence the man tapped the sheets at the far right of the table. “Boy I couldn’t be so cold-blooded about it if I thought I was going nuts! What did it feel like? I mean when you went swacko and tried to drink poison?”

  Jacob raised his eyes from his writing. There was an image. A gestalt. The smell of ammonia filled his nostrils and a powerful throbbing beat at his temples. It felt as if he had spent hours under the glare of an inquisitor’s spotlight.