For Love and Glory

IV

Dinner became jolly, at any rate for the humans. Hebo kept an excellent larder. He poured the wine with a liberal hand and did most of the talking. Lissa soon had nothing against that, even after it became rather boastful. If half what he told was true, he’d had some fabulous adventures. And he had also absorbed considerable culture. Much of what he quoted or mentioned in passing was unfamiliar to her—who were Machiavelli, Hiroshige, Buxtehude?—but she didn’t think he was making it up. The worlds and histories were simply too manifold.

“Yep,” he ended, “we’d’ve been rescued plenty sooner if it hadn’t been for the squabbles back on the satellite.”

“That was a tense situation,” she said. “The rivalry between the Susaians and the Grib—I didn’t know it can get so bitter.”

“Actually, that didn’t cause most of the trouble,” Hebo explained. “Sure, those two breeds don’t get along, and it was a big mistake including several of both in the expedition. But they’re too different for any real, deadly feuding, let alone war. Nope,” he said, turning a bit philosophical, “I don’t expect there’ll ever be an interstellar war. Between species, that is. Inside a species, though—races, religions, tribes, factions—in this case, two Susaian creeds. Not that we humans are saints. We may be the worst of the lot.”

You might almost call him handsome, in a rough-hewn fashion, Lissa thought. “You must have a wide basis for comparison,” she murmured, “with all the roving you’ve done for—how long?”

“I was born about nine hundred years ago, Earth count.”

“What? But that’s amazing!” Minor scars and the like suggested his latest rejuvenation had been about twenty years back, which would put him biologically in his forties. He didn’t look it. “Why have I never heard of you before, at home on Asborg or anywhere else?”

“Oh, I’ve been on Asborg now and then. You’ve got some beautiful country. But it’s a while since last, and anyway, a planet’s so big and patchworky and changeable. Not to speak of a galaxy. I’m not interested in doing anything worldshaking.”

“Though the, the revelation here—”

They had finished coffee; she had declined to share brandy with him. “Tell you what,” he said, “if you want, we can go out. I’ll give you the guided tour.”

She accepted eagerly. Aglow, his tongue still clattering, he nonetheless walked as steadily as her. Karel accompanied them to the gorge, but not on the scramble down its steep, rocky side. The boat could scarcely hold him together with the humans. He turned back. He and Dzesi, eating their separate rations, had apparently become interested in fathoming one another’s personalities.

The boat slipped forth onto the water. Clouds westward loomed ever higher and darker. The wind had strengthened. “A storm seems to be brewing at sea,” Lissa remarked. “Do you think it’ll come this far inland?”

“I’d guess not,” Hebo replied. “Though by now, don’t your people, with all their instruments and observations, know the weather patterns pretty well? Dzesi and I haven’t been here but a short while, and have hardly gotten around at all.”

“Coming straight down, with scarcely any study from orbit first—wasn’t that a little—reckless?”

He shrugged. “Life’s a crapshoot, however you play it.”

Some of his words and phrases were strange to her; she had to take their meaning from context. Archaic, she supposed. Well, in many ways he was archaic himself.

The boat arrived. He made fast and offered a hand to help her up the metal flank. She didn’t need it, but enjoyed the contact. Mainly, her attention was underfoot, on intricate low-relief patterns that possibly bore—circuits, receptors, transmitters, receivers—?

They halted on top and stood mute. The wind tossed her hair and ruffled the stream. The sun glowed dull and huge. Creatures leaped briefly out of the water or winged in noisy hordes.

She looked to and fro, the length and breadth of the mystery. Awe nearly overwhelmed her. “What is it?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t Dzesi and I like to know?”

“You must have learned something.”

“Of course. I think.”

Eagerness throbbed. “What?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. The idea is to sell information, not give it away. We haven’t got any institution supporting us, nor professional prestige to gain by publishing.”

She had been turning that question over at the back of her mind. “I can’t promise anything,” she said slowly, “but I can do my best—and I know some influential people who’d probably agree—I can try to arrange that you be rewarded for what you’ve done.”

He beamed. “Hey, that’s really sweet of you.” He moved in on her.

She retreated a step, pretending she did it casually. “Only fair. The discovery is a tremendous contribution. And whatever you’ve learned is that much work already done.” Keep this practical, impersonal. “However, I’ll have to know what to tell those people.”

“Quite the little bargainer, aren’t you?” he said, more amicably than she liked. “Well, reasonable. But I’ve got to dicker too. I’ll give you a quick and dirty outline if you want, and keep our exact facts and figures under the table till later.”

She smiled. “Besides, this is hardly the place for a scientific lecture.” Nor are you in shape to give one, she judged.

“No,” he agreed. “We can talk comfortably over a drink, the two of us.”

“Our partners deserve to be there,” she answered warily. Divert him. “Could you give me some slight notion of, of what to expect?”

“A sketch of that outline? Why not?” He gestured grandiosely. “This is doubtless a self-growing, self-renewing device. Same principle as we often use, but way superior. Nothing we can make could maintain homeostasis anywhere near as long as this has. Well, of course the plan, the chemistry, everything’s entirely unlike our stuff.” His words gathered momentum. “We’ve traced its configuration electronically, sonically— Hm, am I a poet? Anyhow, it sits on the river bottom, but extends deep roots to anchor itself and extract the minerals it needs to repair the, uh, ravages of water and weather and radiation and what-all else. Deep. Clear through bedrock, way into lower strata. Dzesi and I think it is, or was, an observatory, taking data on everything that comes in range, geology, atmosphere, life, everything, maybe down to the molecular level.”

“Yes, it’s usually supposed that’s what the Forerunners wanted in these regions, information. Why they then abandoned their network and never returned—”

“Who knows? This thing isn’t dead. We register traces of power, probably drawing on solar energy. As you’d expect, since it still resists erosion. Self-repair. But we can’t find out exactly what’s going on.”

Lissa shivered in the wind.

Hebo gave her a broad smile. “There, will that do for a synopsis? How about now we relax and enjoy ourselves?”

“For a while, perhaps. With our friends. Frankly,” and honestly, “I’m almost ready for bed.”

“Me too. Though not sleep, huh?” He leaned close. “Not right away.”

She took another backward step. “What do you mean?” She knew full well.

“You’re a mighty attractive woman, Lissa. Even if it hadn’t been quite a dry spell for me, you’d stand out.” He laughed. “In every way, but especially two.”

“Hold on, there,” she snapped.

“Been a while for you also, I hope. Our partners are of opposite sex to us, but that doesn’t help, does it? They aren’t built right. Come on,” he coaxed. “I’m good. I’ll bet you are too.”

“No.”

He reached and caught hold of a buttock. She sprang from him. He lumbered ahead, grinning and beckoning. She drew her pistol.

“No,” she said. “I mean it, Hebo.”

He slammed to a stop. “You do,” he said, as if astounded. “You really do.”

“Take me back ashore.”

“All right, if you’re cold.”

Fleetingly, she confessed to herself that, earlier, she’d been tempted. “No,” she blurted. “You’re crude.”

He lifted his palms. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have acted like—”

“Stop. We’re going straight back to camp. Behave yourself after you’ve slept this off, and I’ll let the matter rest. Otherwise Karl and I will send word to the base and make for our flyer. Meanwhile, I suggest you keep Karl in mind.”

“All right, all right,” he mumbled sullenly. “I said I’m sorry.”

They returned in a thick silence.

Puzzlement, more than anger, tumbled through her. How could he have been so stupid? He was intrinsically intelligent, he’d had centuries of experience, surely space itself had schooled him in patience, he hadn’t lost coordination, which showed he could hold his liquor when he chose—what ailed him?