The Spheres of Heaven

30: IN THE DARK

“Not very smart.” Tarbush Hanson squatted on the floor, holding his head. “Deb tells us not to go near the camp, so what do we do?”

“I think she might have done the same.” Chrissie was feeling her right shoulder, which had taken most of the impact when she pitched forward unconscious onto rocky ground. “I mean, when you see a man grinning and waving to you, and you are pretty sure that you know who he is …”

They were speaking in whispers. The room was half dark, shaped like a long teardrop with a keyhole opening, eight feet tall and half as wide, at the far end. In the chamber beyond, crab-like figures clicked across the floor and seemed to take no notice of Chrissie and Tarbush; but two of them carried black canes, and neither human was keen to risk another jolt. Muscls spasms from the last time still resonated in every limb.

They had awakened at almost the same moment and spent the first few mindless minutes staring up at a ceiling spangled with flecks of light. It was just as well that they were faceup, because shallow water lapped at the back of their heads. Tarbush’s groan, when first he tried to move, told Chrissie that he was just a few feet away with his head down near her feet. They sat up slowly, shivering, moving closer together and leaning against each other for support.

“Thank God for the suits,” Chrissie said. “Otherwise we’d be soaked and freezing. It’s cold in here. Any idea where we are? The last thing I remember, we were outdoors and it was bright daylight.”

“It’s night, unless my helmet readout is on the blink. And we’re inside a building. But not too far inside, because there’s fresh air coming from somewhere. I can smell those plants. Do you still have your stuff on you?”

Chrissie felt inside her suit to her pockets and the hidden pouches. “Yeah. Either they didn’t know I had it, or more likely they don’t care. I’m not sure a few magic tricks would be much use against those zapper canes. Even if they are, this is the wrong time to try anything. It’s going to be up to you, Tarb. Are you getting anything?”

“Nothing that we can use so far.” He was staring intently through the keyhole-shaped doorway at the creatures beyond. “Three different sizes, but all with the same body type. I was right about the definite pecking order. Postures give it away. There’s an inferior/superior relation among them, with the smallest ones at the top of the heap.”

“You’re getting that out of their behavior pattern?”

“Yeah. Not too difficult, though. The black sticks must have more than one mode of use. The little ones touch the middle-sized ones on the underside, and they jump like they’ve been jabbed with an electric prod. Then they go off and take it out on the big ones, and they jump. Looks like the big ones do all the actual work. But you know what?”

“Only if you tell me.”

“The little ones aren’t the king of the hill, either. They’re scuttling around like they’ve got the fidgets, waiting for something.”

“Will you be able to talk to them?”

“They won’t understand me if I do. I can read general behavior, but they’re too alien for anything more than that. For talking you’d need Tully the Rhymer. Hold on. They’re getting real excited. Hear them chittering away there? I’m going to sneak a bit closer.”

Tarbush eased forward on hands and knees. Chrissie followed without a word. A ledge formed a step up from the chamber that they were in, leading to a drier level beyond, and Tarbush stopped just short of it.

“Don’t go any farther.” Chrissie was right behind, whispering in his ear. “The light’s a lot brighter in there.”

“It is. But I don’t think it matters. I could do a song-and-dance act right now, and nobody would notice. Look out. Here comes whatever they’ve been waiting for. Everybody grovel.”

At the far side of the well-lit center chamber was another keyhole aperture and yet another room. What lay beyond was in darkness, but the crab creatures were lining up to face the opening and bending their many legs until their flat undersides touched the floor.

“Sweet Lucy!” Tarbush shuffled backward, bumping into Chrissie on the way. “Get a load of that.”

An object like a bulky black rock was creeping through the far doorway and into the central room. It was taller than Tarbush and was supported on a writhing nest of thick tentacles that protruded from holes in its lower part. As it moved forward all the animals in the chamber lowered themselves in attitudes of obeisance.

“See what it’s carrying.” Chrissie was right next to Tarbush, her lips to his ear. “Am I seeing things?”

“You’re not. And it’s going to—”

A thinner black hose hung down from the rock’s right-hand side. It curled around an oblong green box. As the hulking rock crossed the chamber toward Chrissie and Tarbush, the box uttered a preliminary series of coughs and sighs.

“ This is not the most efficient means of communication.” The voice coming from the translation unit was harsh and slow, but each word was clear. “However, I am presently too busy to take the time necessary for your conversion. Do you understand me?”

There was a pause, until Chrissie whispered, “We have to answer.” And then, more loudly, “Yes, we understand you.”

“ Listen closely. Your future is uncertain. If your kind agrees to serve the People, you will become part of that service. You will be released, but before that happens you will be modified to provide additional translators. Also, if the translator we are currently using dies, or ceases to function, one of you will become a translator. If your kind refuses to serve the People, they and you will die. Until then, you are prisoners and will not leave these chambers. You will be fed, but should you seek to escape, the Level Threes and Level Fours are instructed to kill you without hesitation. Is all this clear?”

Chrissie nodded. “Yes. It is clear.”

“ Good. If you are hungry, this may be used to ask for food.” The tentacle laid the translation unit on the floor, next to the ledge. The lumpy rock did not turn, but drifted away backwards across the central chamber. As it vanished through the far opening and the prostrate creatures rose with an outburst of clicks and whistles, Tarbush looked at Chrissie.

“All clear. Not clear to me, it weren’t. What was all that gab about being translators, and serving the People?”

“I don’t know.” Chrissie’s face was pale, and her nostrils flared. “I just wanted it to go away. I’m not a coward, Tarb, you know that. But I’d have said anything, I was so afraid it would reach out one of those snaky arms and grab me. What is that thing?”

“Judging from the way the rest of them behave, it’s the big boss. I didn’t care for it, either. Did you hear the options it gave us? If this happens, you die. If that happens, you die. If you do this, you get killed. If you’re real lucky and things work out all right, you get converted into a translator. I’m not sure what a translator is, but I have the feeling I wouldn’t enjoy being one.”

“What are we going to do, Tarb?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this. If you don’t want somebody to escape, saying that you’ll kill them if they try to escape may stop them trying. But telling them you’ll also kill ’em if they don’t try to escape strikes me as dumb.”

“We try to escape?”

“That’s my thought. But how?” He stared around the poorly lit room. “No windows. No exit, except the one that leads through to the chamber of horrors there. Floor’s solid, so’s the ceiling. Come on, Chrissie, we need a bit of your magic.”

“You were the one who said you can feel fresh air. That’s not possible unless there’s some sort of through draft.”

“That’s it, lady. Now you’re thinking. Let’s see what we can find.”

They walked slowly toward the dimly lit rear of the room, splashing through water that deepened to their knees. Close-up, the wall showed a definite grain.

“Like wood,” Chrissie murmured. “But I don’t see any joins. It’s like it grew , all in one piece.”

“Seamless.” Tarbush extruded the cutting tool of the emergency repair kit from his suit’s forearm and dug at the wall. “And tough. This will pierce most things, and I’m not making a dent.”

“What about this?” Chrissie was bending down to inspect a circular hole in the wall covered by a coarse-woven mesh. “I think this is a ventilator. I can feel a draft.”

“Let me have a go.” Tarbush applied the point of the knife. “This cuts easily. I can remove the whole thing if I want to. Not that it will do us much good. The hole’s only about four inches across.”

“How deep?”

“Hold on.” Tarbush removed the little spotlight from his suit’s helmet, shone it into the hole, and peered after it. “At least a foot. The wall’s a lot thicker than I expected.”

“Let me try something.” Chrissie reached in, until her arm was buried to the shoulder. “I think I’m at the end, and it’s not covered with a mesh. My hand feels as though it’s out in the open, there’s a breeze on it.”

“So your hand can escape. Not too useful for the rest of us. Let’s see if there’s another one somewhere else that’s bigger.”

Working in silence, they went in opposite directions around the perimeter of the room until they came to the keyhole doorway that led to the other chamber.

“Anything?” Tarbush whispered.

“One more ventilation tube, same size as before. You?”

“Nothing. Unless you want to take a look in there.” Tarbush nodded his head toward the central room. With the rocky monster gone, the crab creatures were once more upright and busily moving a set of nested vertical tables to horizontal positions.

“I don’t want to, but we have to.” Chrissie stepped forward. “Stay where you are. No point in both of us taking a chance.”

“Chrissie!” But Tarbush stayed close to the wall as she moved into the central chamber, adding only a hissed, “Stop if they point the sticks.”

“Trust me. But I’m going to try to talk to them.” Chrissie stepped up onto the ledge and advanced to where the translation unit lay on the floor. As she picked it up, three of the biggest of the creatures stopped work and moved in her direction.

“Food,” she said loudly. “The big boss says we can have food.”

The translator produced a sequence of whistles and clicks. Chrissie waited. Eyestalks wiggled. Finally one of the creatures chittered, and the translation unit said, “Us not can. Not move.”

It retreated across the floor, to the far doorway of the chamber and beyond. Its two fellows had raised black canes and were pointing them directly at Chrissie.

“What now?” But it was hardly a question, and she did not expect Tarbush to answer. She did not dare to move, and waited frozen in position until at last the creature reappeared. It was accompanied by another half its size.

The small one advanced to stand in front of Chrissie. It waited. Finally it chittered into the translator unit, which said in one rush of words, “Why is this used — What is the problem — Was there no meeting with The One?”

Chrissie could answer the last question. “If Big Rocky is the same as The One, we had a meeting.”

“ But there was no transfer?” The eyestalks of the little animal swiveled and seemed to be staring at Chrissie’s ears. “Ah, I see it is true. There was in your case not yet a transfer. What do you want?”

“We would like food.” Chrissie did not feel in the least like eating, but it was the only thing that she could think of.

“ The rest period is here. It is not food time.”

“The One told us we could have food.”

Apparently she had said the magic words. The creature in front of her clacked and whistled, and the translation unit said abruptly, “You will be given food, the same food as the converted one. Then you will remain quiet until day comes, or you will be punished. Go back into your room.”

Chrissie retreated. As soon as she was beyond the ledge, a curtain of mist seemed to close across the keyhole opening. It gradually solidified, until in half a minute it looked exactly like a brighter version of the rest of the wall.

“I guess that didn’t work,” Tarbush said softly. He went across and rapped on the new wall. “Quite a trick. Perfectly solid. I thought you were promised food?”

“Maybe it changed its mind.” But a few moments later, the part of the wall nearest the floor rippled. An object shaped like a small sled came floating through into the room and stood six inches from the floor unsupported. Tarbush bent down to lift the lid of the oblong container that sat on top of the sled, and recoiled.

“Sweet Lucy! If that’s what they call food …”

He clapped the lid back on the box, but not before Chrissie had seen dozens of purple tentacles reaching and wriggling out over the edges.

“I wasn’t hungry anyway,” she said. As she watched, the new wall slowly began to darken. It was the only source of light, and within a minute she could not make out Tarbush’s outline. “That little effort didn’t help at all, did it? We’re worse off than we were before.”

“Not really.” Tarbush again turned on the little spotlight in the helmet of his suit. “They’re not watching us any more. We’re free to fiddle around any way we like so long as we don’t make a lot of noise.”

“So what do we fiddle around with all night long?” Chrissie advanced, until she stood in front of him and could tilt her head back to look at his frowning face, shadowed by the lamp above it. “Do we take that sled apart and try to understand how it floats in the air with no support? Or do we sit in the corner and play with ourselves? I don’t have any ideas. Do you?”

The scowl that he gave her was its own answer.