The Spheres of Heaven

15: A HELPING HAND FOR

It was difficult to keep the Mood Indigo exactly balanced on its thrustors, and the ship was almost imperceptibly descending. It was also drifting slowly closer to the Pipe-Rilla vessel sitting on the seabed.

The crew of that other ship had been less lucky than Bony and his companions. Their vessel was longer than the Mood Indigo , and less of its mass was at the rear end. Instead of settling down stern-first and remaining upright, it had toppled onto its side. Any occupants now had to deal with a ship where floors and walls had switched roles.

There was no doubt in Bony’s mind that this was a vessel built by Pipe-Rillas. They followed the “decorated” school of ship design, their thought processes apparently dominated by “Hey, look, here’s another place on the hull where we can attach a gadget.” Close up, the ship’s exterior was bumped and lumped and pocked and knotted, draped with grapplers and thrustors and sensors.

And clearly there were beings inside. Bony was now close enough to see the tableau on the sea floor. The fourteen bubble-creatures had formed a semicircle around one side of the Pipe-Rilla ship. Two suited human figures, who must be Liddy Morse and Friday Indigo, stood close to the center of the half-circle, right next to the ship. They were facing what was presumably a port, and one of them was gesturing toward the rounded upper part of the hull.

Without exchanging a word with anyone, Bony could guess at the problem. The Pipe-Rilla ship, like the Mood Indigo , possessed airlocks. But those locks were useless if their outer hatches opened at the top. In space it made no difference, but here under water you needed a hatch at the bottom, so that all the air in the lock did not escape when the hatch was opened. And again, Friday Indigo’s ship had been lucky. Of the three airlocks, one of them had been situated with the outer hatch at the bottom. The Pipe-Rilla vessel had been less fortunate. Bony could see four airlocks, but not one of them had the right position for the outer hatch. The hatches sat at the top of the locks. A Pipe-Rilla who used the lock to leave the ship would have great trouble getting back in. It was a fair guess that the crew had been stranded on board ever since they arrived on Limbo.

Bony was willing to make another bet. Even with the Mood Indigo hovering less than fifty meters away from them, neither Friday Indigo nor Liddy would be able to think of any way to help the stranded Pipe-Rillas.

But Bony could.

First, though, he needed to talk to them. Normally that would be trivial for two ships so close together, but here in Limbo’s ocean the surrounding water damped electromagnetic signals. It had to be a direct cable connect, or something much more old-fashioned: talking in person.

Bony’s arrival had not gone unnoticed. One of the suited human figures was waving, but whether in greeting or irritation Bony could not tell. The bubble people, showing more sense than the humans, had retreated to the other side of the Pipe-Rilla ship and were peeping cautiously around the hull. They had the right idea. Even with low thrust, the auxiliary drives would be dangerous if you got too close to the exhausts.

With that in mind, Bony took the Mood Indigo sideways, away from the other ship, until there was a clear two hundred meters between them. Then he killed all horizontal thrust and gradually decreased the vertical drive. The Mood Indigo made a smooth and sedate landing on the flat seabed. When Bony was sure that it stood in a stable position he cut all thrust.

He had not removed his suit since first lifting the ship away from the seabed. All he needed to do was snap the helmet into position and move to the airlock. The usual nervousness as he waited for the lock to cycle and lowered himself into the water was replaced by impatience.

The sea bottom was quite different here. The sharp but fragile spears that had surrounded the Mood Indigo at its original location were replaced by fleshy pink fingers that reached to waist height and beyond. Bony assumed at first that they were plants — except that as he moved they had the disconcerting habit of reaching toward him, touching his suit, then flinching away. He picked his way carefully through them, across a narrow level plain and then up and down a sudden and unexpected incline. The fingers touched him delicately, in unexpected places, but always quickly backed off.

Friday Indigo and Liddy Morse had turned away from the Pipe-Rilla ship and were waiting for him as he approached. Direct speech would serve when they were within a few feet of each other, and Indigo didn’t waste time in getting down to business.

He bellowed, “I thought I told you to stay with the ship.”

“I did stay with the ship. It’s right there.”

“But I meant — oh, what the hell. We couldn’t get sense from the bubble-brains, but they led us to this.” Indigo reached out to touch the hull of the Pipe-Rilla ship. At the same time, Liddy grabbed Bony’s arm and gave it a welcoming squeeze.

“Are they alive?” Bony asked. He had taken a quick look through the port of the ship, and seen only an inexplicable whirlwind of movement within.

“Oh, they’re alive all right.” Indigo sounded more irritated than pleased. Bony could see why. Living Pipe-Rillas meant that the Mood Indigo was not the first Stellar Group to contact the Limbics. Therefore, Friday Indigo would have no unique position in the history books.

“How many are on board?”

“How many?” Indigo’s face was hard to see through the suit visor, but his voice was puzzled. “How the hell should I know? I don’t see how you could count them even if you wanted to. Thousands, I guess.”

Bony, after his own moment of bewilderment, understood Indigo’s answer. It was not just Pipe-Rillas. There must also be a Tinker Composite on board. Bony had never actually seen one, but he definitely wanted to because he had read about them for over thirty years.

More than ever, he was curious to see the inside of the Pipe-Rilla ship. But his bright idea for getting the aliens in and out needed review. Just how did a Tinker deal with an airlock? It had to be in terms of the whole Composite because individual components were not intelligent until they clustered. What sort of suit was right for a being with no stable shape?

He didn’t have to be able to answer that question himself. All he had to do was arrange things so he could enter the ship. After that, the Tinkers themselves would tell him how they managed exit and entry.

He turned again to Friday Indigo. “I assume they can’t get out.”

“Of course they can’t. Look at the position of their airlocks. Open the outer hatch, the air in it will go right up to the surface and the lock will fill with water.”

“I can solve that problem.”

“I know, I know. The Pipe-Rilla and the Tinker Composite must have already thought of it, and so did I. Roll the ship using lateral thrustors, until the outer hatches are on the bottom of the locks. Only I dare not try it. The hull of their ship probably isn’t as strong as the Mood Indigo , and I don’t think it could take a roll.”

“That’s all right. We don’t need to move the ship. All we have to do is add an L-section beyond their outer hatch, a wide tube that makes an airtight seal with the hatch and then turns downward for a few meters. That way, air can’t escape when they open the hatch, and the level in the vertical section of the tube will just fall or rise to equalize pressures.”

“If that would work, wouldn’t they have thought of it themselves?”

“Maybe they did. But there’s no way they could do it from inside. And there’s no way we could do it, either, without the machine shop and materials on board the Mood Indigo .”

“You’re just trying to justify disobeying orders and flying my ship over here.”

“I thought it was the best thing to do. Anyway, should I try what I said and modify the lock on the alien ship?”

“Oh, go ahead.” Friday Indigo waved a hand in dismissal. “Do what you like. I’m not interested in engineering details. I’m going back to my ship. I have other ideas that I need to explore.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done, sir, and you can operate their airlock.”

“Don’t bother. When I told you I was going first, I meant to meet new aliens, not the pain-in-the-ass Pipe-Rillas and Tinkers sitting inside that garbage can.”

Indigo plowed away across the seabed, stomping pink fingers underfoot and raising clouds of silt with every step.

Liddy stood close to Bony, waiting. When Indigo was safely out of range she said, “I’m really glad you came when you did. You should have heard him after the bubble people brought us here, and he realized that we weren’t the first. He was so pissed he was like a crazy man. I was afraid he’d try something terrible.”

“What could he do?”

“I don’t know. But if there were a way to kill everyone in the Pipe-Rilla ship, I suspect he would have done it.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.”

“I’m sure you don’t. You’re too nice, Bony. But in my line of work I’ve tended to see men at their worst. Let me offer you a warning. Don’t ever get into a situation where being rid of you might be to Friday Indigo’s advantage.”

While they spoke, something had been happening at the port of the alien ship. Bony moved closer, and realized that he could no longer see the interior at all. The port was shrouded by a purple-black sheet. He pressed his face to the window and saw that the shroud was composed of a mosaic of wings, each about as long as his finger. It was components of the Tinker Composite, clustering.

Why would they do that?

To learn the answer, Bony would first have to find a way into the ship.

“He didn’t give you any orders, Liddy. Would you help me?”

“Of course. But don’t expect me to build anything.”

“I don’t. Just give me a hand bringing the L-section of tube over to this ship when it’s finished, and help me put it into position.”

“I can manage that. I’m stronger than I look. You should try me some time.”

She grinned at Bony through her visor and flexed her arm muscles. Even within the bulky suit, she seemed slim and graceful. Bony turned away so that he wouldn’t look like he was staring. Not sure what to say, he started back toward the Mood Indigo . Liddy came close behind, followed by the bubble people.

“Why are they following us?” she said. “And what made them lead us over to that ship? We still don’t know.”

“Because we can’t talk to them. Maybe you could have another try with the translator, while I’m building the airlock adapter.”

“I’m certainly willing. But the first try was a total failure.”

“That was Indigo’s fault. He was too impatient. The translator has a big learning component. When the languages are far apart, you need long samples of both before it can make sense of them.”

They had reached the Mood Indigo . Liddy unhooked the translator from its temporary storage on the side of the ship, strapped it at her side, and turned to face the advancing bubble people. Bony, worried about her being outside alone, waited until the advancing group had peacefully settled down a few meters from Liddy. Then it was back into the lock for him — he felt he had been away weeks — and down to the lower level where spare materials were stored. Indigo was noticeably absent, hiding away in his upper-level private quarters. A definite blessing. Bony dragged what he needed through to the cargo hold. It wasn’t the most convenient place to do the work, but what he had to build was so big that there was no other option. It would be a classic blunder, make something and then find you couldn’t get it out of the ship.

The job itself was straightforward; almost too straightforward. At first Bony found it hard to keep his mind on it, and after a few minutes he went up a level so he could stare out of a port and make sure that Liddy was all right. She was talking, then listening intently to the output of the translator. The bubble-creatures had not moved, except that their spokesman had floated forward and now hovered near Liddy half a meter off the sea floor. The gill slits pumped and pulsed. Reassured, Bony went back to work.

His task took time and patience. What he had when he was finished formed a great curved tube of transparent plastic, an inverted L-shape over two meters across and seven meters long. The upper end was designed to fit around the outer hatch of the Pipe-Rilla ship and seal to its hull — or to anything else in the known universe. For the moment, Bony was not going to worry about getting it off again. The adhesive, ironically, had been produced using a chemical process given to humans by the Pipe-Rillas. Maybe they also knew a solvent.

Bony lifted the tube. In the low gravity of Limbo it was not heavy, but it was so big and awkward that it was close to unmanageable. Getting it out of the cargo hold would be tricky. He dragged the L-tube to the edge of the cargo bay, sweating and swearing. When he was almost there, Friday Indigo appeared at the upper level and stared down at the struggling Bony. He did not offer to help, but asked, “Where’s Liddy?”

For the past half hour Bony had not been thinking about Liddy at all. He felt a bit guilty as he said, “Outside. Trying to talk to the bubble people.”

“Huh. Fat chance. She doesn’t know a thing about translation units.”

“I suppose not. Do you need her back in here?”

“No. I don’t need either of you. As soon as you get that piece of junk out of the way I’m going to take the Mood Indigo up to the surface for a look round. I expect I’ll be gone for a few hours, so try not to do anything too stupid.”

“Are you interested in the thing that we thought might be a Link entry point?”

“Could be.” That was apparently as much as Indigo intended to say about his exploration plans. He turned away and added, “Get that lump of garbage outside. I want to start the thrustors as soon as you’re clear.”

Bony thought of half a dozen rude answers, said nothing, and set to work to flood the cargo bay. Let Indigo worry about getting the water out again. He pushed the awkwardly shaped tube over the lip and allowed it to tumble to the sea floor. Peering after it, he saw Liddy still squatting calmly on the seabed surrounded by an attentive ring of bubble folk.

He went out after the tube, suddenly aware of his own fatigue. He wanted to take a brief rest, but Indigo’s voice at once came crackling in his ear. “All right, Rombelle. Stop loafing. You have three minutes before I lift the ship.”

Bony nodded wearily — Indigo was clearly watching him on an internal display — and stumbled across to Liddy. “We have to get out of the way. Bubble people, too.”

Liddy was bending low, peering anxiously at him across the gulf of their two visors. “Is everything all right?”

Bony swore a royal internal oath. If they survived — if he could free her from servitude to Friday Indigo — if she wanted to go — he would take Liddy on a year-long holiday, just the two of them, to the ends of the solar system and beyond. Three “ifs” in one sentence. “Everything is fine, but Indigo is proposing to raise the ship. We have to be well clear when he does.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m awake. I’m ready to go.” Three lies in three sentences. He was improving. “Just let’s get everybody clear.”

She didn’t argue, but grabbed one end of the L-tube and helped him to carry it across to the seated group of bubble people. With gestures from her, the whole party moved off to a safe distance from the Mood Indigo , and watched as the ship lifted away from the surface with a great stirring of sediments.

Liddy was staring at him again. “You look really tired. Is it all right if we talk for a moment?”

“With Friday Indigo gone I feel better already. I’m awake. Talk away.”

“Well, I know I’m not very bright; but you see, when I was outside by myself I had an idea. We don’t really know anything about the bubble people, what sort of information they absorb, or how much, or how fast. So as well as talking to them myself, I set up a vocal data feed from the Mood Indigo’s general data base. People a whole lot smarter than me, talking about humans and human activities.”

“Liddy, that was a great idea.”

“I’m not so sure. You remember the sort of gibberish we got when Indigo tried, that `Is it Monday for the flower’ sort of thing?”

“Of course.”

“Well, for the past few minutes I haven’t been getting exactly that. I’m not sure it’s much better than Indigo’s try, but it is different. I recorded everything of course, but I’ve edited what you’ll hear. Listen to this bit.”

Bony heard a sequence of squeaks, as though a colony of mice had invaded his suit’s headset; and then, quite clearly, a synthesized voice: “…we go to the other ship before we go to the other ship. The other other ship sent us to the other ship, and then sent us to this in the wood of sharp .”

Bony wondered if that was supposed to make sense. Maybe he was more tired than he realized. “Play it again.”

“All right. But there’s another piece I want you to hear.”

The recorded translation was repeated, then went on: “The one ship is not the other ship or the other other ship. The one ship is the ship of the angels. The angels of the one ship send us to the other ship and the other other ship.”

Bony yawned. He had never expected to find the seabed of an alien planet relaxing, but here he was half ready to fall asleep. “It doesn’t make any more sense than what was said to Friday Indigo.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not criticizing you, Liddy. You tried. What did you think it meant?”

“Well, I know I’m not good at thinking. I wasn’t trained to use my mind. From the time I was ten years old I was trained to use my body. But I thought — I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“It does.” God, was he humoring her? That would be as bad as Friday Indigo. “Liddy, what’s your idea?”

“Well … I wondered at that word, angel . Of all the words the translator might pick, why that one? I suppose it could be random. But maybe the Limbic really meant Angel, like one of the aliens we call an Angel. I know, there isn’t an Angel on board the ship that we were taken to. But if the Mood Indigo is this ship, and the Pipe-Rilla vessel is the other ship, then what’s the other other ship?”

“There were supposedly two alien ships that came to the Geyser Swirl before we did. You think—”

“Isn’t it possible? That one of them, the ship Indigo and I were taken to, has a crew of Pipe-Rillas and Tinkers. But the other ship, what the Limbics call the other other ship—”

“Has a crew of Angels. I hear you. Play it one more time.”

Bony listened hard, concentrating to the limits of his tired brain. At the end he shook his head. “I can’t tell. I see what you’re getting at, that there’s another ship here and it directed the Limbics to us and to the Pipe-Rilla vessel. But this is all guesswork. Even if you’re right, what we have to do next is clear enough. Come on. Grab the tube again, and let’s go.”

The walk across the ocean floor was only a few hundred meters. Say that fast and it sounded easy, but Bony soon learned that forward progress was difficult verging on impossible. The L-shaped section of tube seemed to have a mind of its own, tilting and twisting in unexpected directions. The seafloor pink fingers insisted on inspecting the pipe and were sometimes reluctant to let go, providing extra resistance to movement. The mid-sea rise, hardly noticeable when you crossed it unencumbered, seemed to have become much steeper. Bony’s face-plate began to steam up, reminding him that the suit was designed for space and not for work under the sea. He looked for Liddy, holding the other end of the tube, and saw only a foggy blur. Everything must be just as difficult for Liddy, but she was struggling on without complaint. If she could do it, he could. He trudged on, head down, exhausted and unable to see where he was going.

He was at the end of his tether and ready to call for a break when suddenly everything became easier. The tube seemed to weigh nothing and glided forward of its own volition. Startled, Bony released his hold and looked around him. Four of the bubble people had taken the sides of the tube and were carrying it easily through the water. Their strength was impressive. Just as well that they seemed a peaceful lot.

Did they have any idea where he and Liddy were going? Apparently so. The Pipe-Rilla ship lay straight ahead, encouragingly close. During the final hundred meters, his suit visor lost its fog and his fatigue lessened.

Ten meters from the sunken ship, Bony released his hold on the pipe section and gestured to the bubble folk to do the same. They ignored him. He went across to them and turned the thrustors of his suit on at a low level. He pointed to the exhaust and said, “Dangerous. Don’t stay too close.” They didn’t seem to understand; they didn’t move.

Liddy came across to stand next to him. She repeated, “Dangerous. Drop the tube. Don’t stay too close. Move away.”

After an odd gobbling sound, Bony heard the distorted words, “Not too close. Move away.”

They came from the translator, which he now realized was strapped at Liddy’s side. She had carried it all the way from the Mood Indigo , while still holding up her end of the tube. She had not lied — she was much stronger than she looked. And now the bubble men were drifting away, moving off to a safe distance.

He turned to Liddy, who said softly, “The translator has heard a lot more of me than it has of you. At the moment it’s better at my voice than yours. That’s all.”

“But you thought to bring it with you — I didn’t. I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you’re not smart. Don’t tell that to me, and don’t listen to Indigo when he says it. Because it’s not true. You’re not just beautiful, you’re also intelligent and resourceful.”

“I’ll do what you ask under one condition. Don’t you ever tell me again that you are fat and clumsy. Because that’s not true. You’re well-proportioned and attractive.”

There could hardly be a worse place and time. Liddy had moved very close, but they were separated by the infinite distance of two space-suits. Anything that Bony might have done — if he had dared — would have to wait. He stepped away from Liddy and said, “We’re not finished yet, and the tricky bit is still to come. We have to get this tube up there and sealed to the hull, and it will be just the two of us because I’m afraid our suit exhausts might damage the bubble people. Are you up for it?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Wait until I lift the other end.”

Maybe it was easier to turn the tube than to carry it across the uneven seabed, or maybe experience made the difference. Whatever the reason, they maneuvered the tube without problems up the side of the Pipe-Rilla ship, using their suit jets to lift themselves and direct the L-section into position. The seal was still tricky work and Bony wished — for maybe half a second — that Friday Indigo was there to help. It was a long, tedious, three-quarters of an hour until the horizontal part of the L-section was snugly mated to the hull of the ship. The vertical portion curved down toward the seabed. Now there was one remaining problem. The aliens inside needed to operate the lock. Bony could see no way of doing it from the outside.

“Stay here.” He left Liddy inside the vertical section of tube and descended once more to the seabed. He advanced to the ship’s port, but as before the view within was hidden by the cloak of purple Tinker wings. He swore, raised the gauntlet of his suit, and hammered as hard as he dared on the port.

Nothing. But with a second series of bangs, the cluster of Tinker wings shivered, fluttered, and was suddenly gone. In their place, staring at Bony with big-eyed concentration, was a Pipe-Rilla, lowering her fourteen-foot body with a cantilevering of long, multijointed limbs until she was face-to-face with him at the port.

He gestured and shouted, hoping she could see his expressions inside his suit or hear his voice through the hull. “Up there. At the airlock.” A frantic turning of his hands, as though working a screw. “It’s safe to use, you can operate it. I” — finger pointing at himself — “will go up there” — pointing up again — “and enter as soon as it’s open.”

Did she have any idea what he was getting at? He had no experience with the aliens, no way of knowing how to read their body language. As for facial expressions, you could forget them. The Pipe-Rillas had rigid exoskeletons.

He pointed upward again. “I’m going there now. You operate the airlock.” More turning of his hands. “And I will come in.”

Had there been a movement of the narrow head, a tremble of understanding? Bony watched. At last, when the imagined movement was not repeated, he left the port and rejoined Liddy. She was still waiting by the airlock.

“Did they understand?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”

He probably sounded as discouraged as he felt. His talent, if he had any, was for improvising. A more logical man would have prepared the ground thoroughly in advance, making sure through written signals that the Pipe-Rilla inside knew what he had been doing. As it was, he and Liddy might be forced to wait here until their air was running out, then return to the safety of the Mood Indigo with nothing to show but failure.

From somewhere, near or far, came a strange, creaking rumble. Liddy grabbed his arm. “Bony.”

“I don’t know what it was. Wait a few seconds.”

It took considerably more than that. Maybe two whole minutes passed before the grinding rumble came again. But this time Bony recognized it for what it was: A motor at work, irising open a sealed hatch. It was another few seconds before the gap was visible, but now the wait did not seem long. Soon they heard a hiss of air.

Half a minute more, and the hatch was fully open. The water level in the vertical part of the L-section dropped a meter, then steadied. Bony and Liddy stepped through the hatch, and waited until it closed.

Liddy reached out and gave Bony a nervous hug. The inner hatch still had to go through its cycle, but the hard work was over. They were, at last, about to enter a Pipe-Rilla vessel.

They were going to meet Stellar Group aliens.