The Spheres of Heaven

25: SHORE PLANS

Friday Indigo sat on a rock ledge with his legs immersed in water up to the mid-calf. He was inside a long, stone-walled room with a dark pool down the middle. The edge of the pool was marked by a set of tapered columns, conical towers taller than a man. Scores of lumbering Malacostracans, all bigger than Two-Four, scuttled and splashed to and fro at the poolside in what seemed like random motion.

The One stood motionless behind Friday. The thin snaky fingers had withdrawn little by little from his ears, until now they barely touched the skin.

“Once more we will test.” The voice that Friday heard did not come from the translation unit. It was inside his head, warm and friendly and infinitely comforting. “Tell us your name.”

“I am Friday Indigo.”

“That is satisfactory.” The tendrils withdrew completely, slithering back into the body of The One. “We detect no signal loss. We will later confirm the efficiency of operation over greater distances. Now, however, you will answer questions concerning your universe, your world, and your people. You have said that the universe from which you came has `countless’ suns and many habitable worlds. How many suns? How many worlds? How many habitable worlds? How does your universe compare with this one?”

Friday struggled to answer. He wanted to do it right, with every nerve, with every brain cell, with every ounce of his strength and concentration. But he could not do it. He lacked information. At last he said, “In our universe, stars are organized into large groups called galaxies. Each galaxy contains many billions of stars. One star in every ten of our own galaxy has planets around it. One planet in a thousand is able to support life like our kind and yours. There are theories to explain why planets converge toward common life-supporting properties, but I do not understand them. We have little knowledge of any galaxy except the one that our own sun is in, but we think that they are all similar in their ability to create planetary systems, and that an equal fraction of planetary systems probably supports life. But I cannot compare with this universe, because I do not know the properties of this universe.”

“You have provided the information that we need.” The voice of The One soothed and cheered Friday. “You confirm that your own universe, unlike this one or most of the rest of the accessible levels of the multiverse, is hospitable to life. This one, by contrast, is most inhospitable. Based on the observed properties of the sky-globes, we estimate that the nearest star with a planetary train is more than five thousand lightyears away from here. This universe is a disappointment to us.”

Friday felt inside his brain a new touch that could not translate to words. He shivered with shared sorrow and dissatisfaction, until the One continued, “We intend to link ourselves through to your universe. First, however, we need more information. Tell us of your people, and of this `Stellar Group’ that you mention. Talk of your technology, and list your strengths and weaknesses. Warn us of possible dangers. Give every fact that you know. Our powers of absorption are endless, and no amount of detail is too much.”

Friday nodded. After a few moments he began to speak. Prompted now and again by The One, he did his best to empty his entire brain.

Minutes became hours. Occasionally The One interrupted to ask a question. Who in humans was the controlling class? Which one was the disposable class? Was there more than one sessile class? Friday had to answer that question in half a dozen different ways, before The One was satisfied that humans had no sessile class and continued: How is human breeding accomplished? How are offspring culled? In the Stellar Group, how can there be many species, without one being dominant?

Friday talked on and on, until all the Malacostracans other than The One were gone, and the long chamber was empty. The water that lapped around his calves gradually became freezing cold. The rock that he sat on was ridged and uneven and cut into his flesh. He had not eaten for almost two days.

He did not mind. He was aware of fatigue and physical discomfort, but they did not matter. He was blissfully happy.

When at last The One said, “That is enough for now,” he was disappointed.

The One read his disappointment. “We have proved that your kind can be useful servants,” it said soothingly. “Your life will continue. Lie down now, on your back.” And, after a brief pause, “Sleep.”

It was as well that Friday had received the order to lie down. Otherwise he would have fallen face forward into the water, asleep instantly. He would have died there, too — but he would have died happy.

He did not hear The One, mindful of the needs of the underclasses, add, “And after sleep you will be fed.”

Who? Chan struggled with the problem for the rest of the day. Who would go ashore? Who must remain on the ship?

There was no doubt at all that everyone would want to go, but that was another matter.

He deliberately avoided Deb during the evening, and he chose a different place to sleep. They had spent the previous night together, but now he dared not allow personal persuasion and closeness to cloud his judgment.

By morning he had made up his mind. The condition of the Hero’s Return when he awoke helped. The air entering through the ducts smelled stale. It was clammy on the skin, and every exposed metal surface sweated drops of water. The ship’s computer insisted that all life-support systems were well within tolerances, but its sensors could not match a human’s perception of discomfort or of coming problems.

So Dag Korin was right, and the Bun would have to stay to make whatever fixes he could think of. Chan didn’t fool himself into thinking they would be any more than temporary. The bottom of the sea was simply the wrong place for a space-going ship. The Hero’s Return was slowly dying.

Chan called for a breakfast meeting in the ship’s main cafeteria. He made sure he was there first, and he watched their faces as they arrived in ones and twos. He swore to himself. He hadn’t said a word to anyone, but they all knew something was about to happen — and it was his guess that they knew what.

He scanned the intent faces as they filled trays with food and carried them to the long table where he sat at the head. Danny Casement took a position next to Chan. He was as neatly groomed and debonair as always — and as inscrutable. Danny was a formidable card player, and no one would read his feelings and inner thoughts. Next to him, Tully O’Toole sat down with a loaded tray that he did no more than pick at. Chan could see the tremor in Tully’s hand. He knew that morning feeling, the worst time of day for withdrawal symptoms.

Bony Rombelle arrived next at the table, carrying a big glass of water and a single slice of dry toast. Was this really the Bun? The Bun, whose idea of an adequate breakfast in the old days included eggs and bacon and sausage and pasta, followed by toast covered with enough butter to grease a locomotive?

Was the Bun feeling sick? No, it was something else. Chan saw Liddy Morse sit down next to Bony, and knew what it was. With any luck it wouldn’t mess up the Bun’s ability to make useful equipment out of any old bits and pieces that were to hand.

When Deb Bisson arrived she moved to sit at the other end of the table, facing Chan. Her eye met his accusingly. It said, You’re a coward, Chan Dalton. You know I won’t be going ashore, but you won’t tell me in person. You’ll go, and leave me behind. That’s why you avoided me last night. Don’t I deserve better treatment than that?

Well, Deb might have a surprise coming.

Last to arrive were Tarbush Hanson and Chrissie Winger. Maybe they didn’t know after all. As they sat down at the table their faces were puzzled, as if they had no idea what was happening. Maybe they were really wondering; or maybe they were just better actors than the rest. As a magic team, they specialized in misdirection.

“Is there anyone who doesn’t know why I asked you here this morning?” Chan began. Then he paused. Two others who had certainly not been invited were entering the room. The giant form of Vow-of-Silence, crouching low so her head would not hit the ceiling, led the way. Thousands of Tinker components followed the Pipe-Rilla like some long train of purple-black.

Chan waited while Vow-of-Silence folded her limbs awkwardly to perch on a neighboring table. Eager Seeker assembled on the floor next to her as a thick pulsing column about six feet tall.

“Please ignore us,” Vow-of-Silence said. “We came only as observers.”

Ignorethem? When the Pipe-Rilla loomed over everyone? When the Tinker Composite formed a funnel opening in its upper extremity, and was now making the wheezing moans that preceded speech?

Chan said, “How did you learn that there was a meeting?”

“From Dag Korin.” The thin head bobbed. “He came to us. He said you were going ashore. He spoke of great violence, of d-death and d-destruction.”

“I think you must have misunderstood General Korin,” Chan said. “We have no thought of violence ashore.” He turned back to the circle of humans. “But there will be a shore party. Tell me, for my own curiosity. Who didn’t know about this?”

Not a hand was raised.

“So who told you?”

“I heard it from Dag Korin, yesterday,” Tully said. “He mentioned it when I was with Elke Siry. I knew what was going on, as soon as he said he would need maps of Limbo made from our satellite images. And he didn’t give any impression that it was a secret, so I passed the word on to the others.”

Korin again. He had some secret agenda, Chan felt sure of it. But what?

“Well, it’s sure no secret now,” Chan went on. “So let’s talk about who will be going on the first shore party” — everyone at the table sat up straighter — “and who won’t.”

The tension rose. They all wanted to be on the shore party, of course they did. For that they would be prepared to lie, cheat, steal, even fight. Chan could see them getting ready to argue if they were left out, or defend the wisdom of his decision if they were included.

“For starters,” he said, “I’ll tell you one person who will not be in the first exploration party.” The room crackled with nervous anticipation, until at last he went on, “I won’t be going ashore. I will remain here on the ship.”

It had the effect Chan wanted. The others sank back with a collective sigh. If he was off the list, no one else was a sure thing — and they knew it.

“Bony,” Chan went on, “you can’t go, either. This ship’s rotting around us, and we need somebody to jury-rig the failing systems. Does anyone argue that the Bun is the only person for that job?”

Nods all round.

“But you can’t do everything single-handed, Bony. So Liddy, I want you and the Bun to work together. You seem to do that very well. Tully the Rhymer” — Chan went on without giving either Bony or Liddy a chance for argument or discussion — “you have a job to do here, and it’s a tough one. We’ve been talking to the bubble people using a translator, but they are so alien that we think the mechanical units miss subtleties. I want you to learn the bubble language until you can think like one of them. The Angel will be staying on board, to work with Elke Siry, and already speaks to the bubble people pretty well. Stay close to the Angel, and get all the help you can.”

Chan saw Tully perk up a little from his shivering morning misery, and made an inspired guess. “That means you’ll be close to Elke Siry, too, so I have one other job for you. I want you to apply your fading charms to Elke. I know she’s in Dag Korin’s back pocket, and she’s doing special work for him. Whatever she learns and tells him, I want to hear about from you.”

Chan stared down the length of the table at the people he had not spoken to so far. “Now for the rest of you. It’s time either for congratulations or commiseration. Chrissie and Tarbush, I owe you for promising you would go in the pinnace, without bothering to check that the thing could fly. So you’ll go, along with Deb and Danny.” He held up his hand. “Before you start celebrating, let me assure you it won’t be a picnic. We know there’s a military camp on land, and we know that whoever runs it blew our orbiters out of the sky without any attempt at contact. Apparently they don’t like anyone looking at them. Whatever else you may be when you go ashore, you won’t be safe.”

Bony said doubtfully, “But Liddy and I went ashore. We were all right.”

“I know. That was before we flew our orbiters, and I don’t think you got close enough to be noticed. The other possible explanation is that you were damned lucky, and you can’t count on more luck.” Chan reached down under the table and pulled up the rolled image that he had been holding between his legs. He unfolded it on the tabletop, weighting it down at the edges with mugs and plates.

“We should all look at this. I said at the beginning that some of us wouldn’t be going on the first shore party, but I expect we’ll all be there eventually. The Hero’s Return brought us here, but I can’t see it taking us back. We have to find another way home.”

Chan pointed out the black circle on the flattened image. “This is a region of total destruction. The alien encampment is at the center here, and you should expect everything around it to be totally lifeless. When the Bun and Liddy went ashore they found not a sign of either plants or animals. Even the shallow water must have been sterilized. So our shore party won’t land anywhere in the destruction zone. You’ll go farther north, and sneak ashore in the vegetated area above the inlet that the bubble people call `Death Fork.’ It’s actually closer to the location of the Hero’s Return , so if you head due east along the seabed, like this, you’ll arrive on the shore where there ought to be cover. After that” — Chan shrugged — “we won’t be able to help. The four of you will be on your own. Do whatever you think is best.”

A gentle voice said, “Excuse me if I intrude. But I have something that must be added.”

Vow-of-Silence unfurled her body from its tabletop crouch and advanced to loom over the humans.

“I have no wish to interfere with your plans to explore the land area of this planet. I agree that this exploration may be necessary for our long-term survival, something that we all desire. For this reason, I offer my support. I will also go ashore.”

The Tinker Composite’s speaker funnel whirred for two seconds like an electric fan, then produced words. “Our presence on land may be essential to your survival. We can send partial versions of ourself, even our individual elements, on rapid scouting missions. We can enter small apertures which would be to you quite inaccessible, or we can serve as inconspicuous observers. We will also go ashore.”

Next to Chan, Danny Casement muttered, “It’s always the same. Everybody wants to get into the act.”

Chan had his own interpretation of what was going on. Dag Korin had been talking blood and thunder, and it had had precisely the wrong effect. Instead of focusing their attention on Korin, which is what the General had anticipated, the aliens now didn’t trust any humans.

The rest of the team was looking at Chan, waiting for him to explain to the aliens why their presence ashore would be a bad idea. He decided to save his breath. Vow-of-Silence and Eager Seeker would listen politely to whatever he might choose to say, then do exactly what they wanted. On an issue like this there was no chance that they would change their minds.

Chan nodded to Vow-of-Silence. “The shore party will be pleased to have your assistance. However, you must be prepared to leave the ship in three hours. The party will need plenty of daylight hours ashore.”

Deb, Tarbush, Chrissie and Danny were staring at him in disgust and disappointment. He said to them, “I need to work out some practical details with just the four of you. Can we get together right now, in my cabin?”

Giving no time for argument, Chan stood up and led the way out. He headed along the main axis of the ship to his cabin — and past it. Where the corridor widened, Deb Bisson moved to his side.

“I thought you said in your cabin?”

Chan put his finger to his lips. Deb got the message, and did not speak again. Finally they reached the door of bilious green, and passed through into Dag Korin’s spartan quarters.

The room was empty. Chan motioned the others inside and closed the door. “We can talk freely here. This is one place — the only place on the ship, according to the General — where we definitely can’t be overheard by the ship’s computer. Remember that when you leave. Anything the computer hears, the aliens can find out about.

“I want to set a few things straight. You probably guessed why I won’t be going with you. It’s because Dag Korin won’t let me, and he’s officially in charge.” Chan held up a hand to cut off the protests. “Yes, he is. And you can’t have more than one person running things. So unless you want to start a mutiny, Korin has final say. Now I’m going to tell you one order he gave me to pass on to the shore party, something that can’t ever be mentioned outside this room. I know you’re all pleased to be going, but don’t kid yourselves. It will be dangerous. So Korin’s order to you — and my order, too — is simple: your first responsibility is to survive. You do whatever it takes to make sure of that. Remember, if you don’t survive, you can’t report back with whatever you find. If you’re attacked, defend yourselves. Don’t worry about justifying what you do, just do it. Let the Pipe-Rillas and the Tinkers yell and scream as much as they like about peaceful solutions, we’ll worry about that problem when you come back. But make sure you come back. Any questions?”

“Yes.” Tarbush Hanson was frowning. “If Korin is in charge, like you say, why are you and he letting the aliens go ashore? They may be useful, but more likely they’ll just be a pain in the ass.”

“That’s probably true, and you’ll have to live with it. I said it wrong before. Dag Korin is in charge of the humans on board this ship. Neither he nor I can control what the aliens do — much as we would like to. Anything else?”

“Two and two, like in the old days?” Danny Casement spread his arms wide. “You know, divide and conquer. That way only one group is stuck with the aliens.”

“If you can work it. You with Deb, Chrissie with Tarbush. I’d suggest that you have one forward pair and one covering, but that will be up to you. Handle it whatever way seems best when you get there. Anything else that can’t be said where it will be overheard?”

The others looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Right, then. Go and get ready. I wasn’t kidding when I told the aliens to be ready in three hours. You don’t want to arrive ashore when it’s almost dark.”

Danny, Chrissie, and Tarbush headed for the door and left, but Deb Bisson hung back.

“When I couldn’t find you last night,” she said, “I thought it was because you had decided that you were going and I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“I owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t. It’s nothing compared with the one that I’ve owed you for all those years. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t try to be a hero. And promise you’ll come back.”

“That’s two things.” But Deb was smiling. “I’ll do my best, Chan. And you, you’d better not hide away again when I do. Otherwise you’ll have more trouble on your hands than you’ll ever get from any alien.”