Convergent Series (20 page)

"Easy. We just home on the beacon."

"How long from here?"

"Six or seven hours, top speed."

As he spoke Perry was looking at the car's chronometer.

"How long?" Graves had followed his look.

"A bit more than eight Quake days to Summertide; say, sixty-seven hours from now."

"Seven hours to Thousand Lakes, eight more back to the Umbilical. Then up and away. Plenty of time. We'll escape from Quake long before the worst."

Perry shook his head. "You don't understand. Quake is inhomogeneous, with a variable internal structure. The earthquakes can pop up anywhere, long before Summertide. We're not seeing much activity here in the Uplands, but the Thousand Lakes area could be a nightmare."

"Come on, man, you're as bad as Rebka. It can't be all that unpleasant, if the Carmel twins are still alive there."

"You said it right.
If
they're still alive there." Perry was at the controls, and already the car was turning. "There's one thing you're forgetting, Councilor. Radio beacons are made tough—a whole lot tougher than human beings."

The weapons sensors had been tracking the car for a long time. When it came within line-of-sight range, Louis Nenda placed the starship's concealed arsenal on Full Alert.

The approaching aircar slowed, as though aware of the destructive power poised a few kilometers in front of it. It moved sideways, then sank to a vertical landing on a seamed shelf of rock, well away from the ship.

Nenda kept the weapons primed for action, watching as the car's hatch eased open.

"Who's it gonna be, then?" he said softly in Communion patois, more to himself than to Kallik. "Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. Name them visitors."

A familiar pair of figures climbed out onto the steaming, rubble-strewn shelf. Both wore breathing masks, but they were easily recognizable. Louis Nenda grunted in satisfaction and flipped every weapon to standby mode.

"They'll do fine. Open the hatch, Kallik. Show the guests some hospitality."

Atvar H'sial and J'merlia were steadily approaching, picking their way carefully past rounded blue-gray boulders and across a scree of loose gravel. Louis Nenda had chosen his landing site carefully, on the most solid-seeming and permanent surface that he could find; still there were drifts of blown dust and signs of recent earth movement. A deep, jagged crack ran from the shelf where the aircar had just landed, halfway to the much bigger ship. Atvar H'sial was following the line of the fissure, occasionally peering over the edge to sniff the air and estimate the bottom depth. That trench was her only possible refuge. Nothing lived in this region of Quake, and there was no shred of cover within ten kilometers. The ship's weapons, thirty meters high in the dome of the vessel, enjoyed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree prospect.

Atvar H'sial entered the lower hatch, bowing low—not from any idea of respect for Louis Nenda, but because she was squeezing in through an entrance designed for something half her height. Inside, she pulled off her breathing mask. J'merlia followed, with an odd little whistle of greeting to Kallik, then scurried forward to crouch in front of his owner.

The Cecropian straightened and moved closer to Nenda. "You chose not to use your weapons on us," J'merlia translated. "A wise decision."

"From your point of view? I'm sure it was. But what's this talk of weapons?" Nenda's voice was mocking. "You'll find no weapons here."

"You may be right," Atvar H'sial said through J'merlia. "If the inspection facility on Opal could not find them, it may be that we could not." Atvar H'sial's broad white head turned up to look at the ceiling. "However, if you will permit me half an hour for inspection of your starship's upper deck . . ."

"Oh, I don't think so." Louis Nenda grinned. "It might be fun, but we really don't have half an hour to play around. Not with Summertide breathing down our necks. Suppose we stop fencing for a while? I'll not ask what tools and weapons you're carrying on you, if you'll stop worrying about what's on this ship. We've got more important things to talk about."

"Ah. A truce, you suggest." The words came from J'merlia, but it was Atvar H'sial who held out a long foreleg. "Agreed. But where do we begin? How do we discuss cooperation, without revealing too much of what we each know?"

"For a start, we send them"—Nenda pointed at J'merlia and Kallik—"outside."

Atvar H'sial's yellow trumpet-horns turned to scan the Hymenopt, then moved down to the Lo'tfian crouched beneath her carapace.

"Is it safe there?" J'merlia translated.

"Not specially." Nenda raised bushy eyebrows. "Hey, what do you want, carnival time on Primavera? It's not safe anywhere on Quake right now, and you know it. Is your bug extrasensitive to heat and light? I don't want to fry him."

"Not particularly sensitive," J'merlia translated, with no sign of emotion. "Given water, J'merlia can survive heat and bad air for a long period, even without a respirator. But the communication between you and me . . ."

"Trust me." Nenda pointed to J'merlia and Kallik and jerked a thumb toward the hatch. "Out. Both of you." He switched to Communion talk. "Kallik, take plenty of water with you for J'merlia. We'll tell you when to come back in."

He waited until the two aliens were outside and the hatch was closed, then moved forward to sit in the shadow of Atvar H'sial's carapace. He took a deep breath and opened his shirt, revealing a chest completely covered with an array of gray molelike nodules and deep pockmarks. He closed his eyes and waited.

"Be patient." The coded pheromones diffused slowly into the air. "It is not easy . . . and I lack . . . recent practice."

"Ah." Atvar H'sial was nodding her blind head and pointing her receptors to the chest array. "A Zardalu augmentation, I assume? Heard of but never encountered by me. May I ask, at what physical price?"

"The usual." Louis Nenda's face showed a harsh ecstasy. "Pain—the going rate for every Zardalu augment. That's all right, I'm getting there. I'm going to talk in human style as we go, if you don't mind. It helps me frame my thoughts."

"But there is no need for this!" In addition to the literal meaning, Louis Nenda's pheromone receptors picked up Atvar H'sial's disdain and contemptuous amusement. "J'merlia is totally loyal to me, as I assume Kallik is to you. They would die before they would reveal any conversation of ours."

"They certainly would." Louis Nenda managed to chuckle. "I'd make sure of that. But I don't know how smart J'merlia is. Things can always come out by accident, specially if someone tricky asks the questions. Only way to be really safe is if they're not here to listen." The laugh changed to a grunt of discomfort. "All right, let's get down to business and finish this as quick as we can. It's hard on me."

"We need a protocol for the exchange of information."

"I know. Here's my suggestion. I'll make a statement. You can agree, disagree, or make a statement of your own, but no one is obliged to answer any question. Like this. Fact: You have no interest at all in environmentally stressed life-forms on Quake. That's all bull. You came here because you are a specialist on the Builders."

"To you, I will not deny it." Atvar H'sial reared up to full height. The red-and-white ruffles below the head expanded. "I am more than a specialist. I am
the
specialist on the Builders in the Cecropia Federation." The pheromones carried a message of pride more powerful than words ever could. "I was the first to fathom the mystery of Tantalus; the first—and only—Cecropian to survive a transit of Flambeau. I realized the significance of Summertide before Darya Lang was foolish enough to publish her findings. I—"

"All right. You're smart, I hear you." Nenda's breathing was becoming easier. "Tell me something I need to know, or we'll be here till Summertide and we'll all fry."

"Very well. You are here because you want to know what will happen at Summertide. But I say that you did not initiate that idea. You know too little science or history. Someone else applied Darya Lang's idea and told you the significance of this time and place. It would be of interest to know who that someone is."

"That sure sounds like a question to me, even if it's not phrased like one. But I'll tell you." Nenda jerked his thumb to the ship's hatch. "Kallik."

"Your Hymenopt? A slave!" Atvar H'sial was more than surprised. She was outraged. "It is not fitting for a slave species to perform such high-level work."

"Ah, nuts." Nenda was grinning. "She has a brain—might as well let her use it for my benefit. Anyway, it keeps her happy when she can read and calculate in her spare time. She saw Lang's work, then did the computing herself. She decided this was the special time and place. Then she got all excited, wanted to tell somebody. I said no way. We'll tell no one—and we'll go to Quake ourselves. And here we are. But I want to compare notes with you on something more specific. Let's talk about what will happen here at Summertide."

"That sounds like a question to me. I do not choose to answer."

"So I'll make a statement instead. Let me tell you what Kallik says, based on her analysis, and you can comment if you want to. She says the Builders are going to return—here, and at Summertide. The secret of their technology and the reason for their disappearance will be revealed to those present. How's that grab you?"

"That is also a question, not a statement, but I will answer it. Kallik's suggestion is plausible. However, it is not certain. There is no actual evidence for an appearance of the Builders."

"So it's a bet you have to make. And what Kallik didn't say—but what I think, and it won't surprise me if you're way ahead of me—is that anyone who gets the keys to Builder technology will be plenty powerful in this spiral arm."

"I agree. The technology will be the prize."

"For some people. But it's still not the only reason you're here." Nenda moved closer and went so far as to tap Atvar H'sial's shiny abdomen with his index finger. "Fact: You're another Builder fanatic, as much as Lang and Kallik. You all think you're going to
meet
the Builders, seventy hours from now. Know what Kallik calls this Summertide? The
Epiphany
—when the gods will appear."

"My own term is the Awakening. Do you accept that there will be some momentous event?"

"Hell, I don't know. What do you mean by momentous? I'm damn sure the gods won't appear. The whole thing's a long shot, but it's for super-big stakes. That's my game. I'm a gambler, and I play long shots."

"You are wrong. It is not a long shot.
It will happen."
 

Atvar H'sial's conviction was unmistakable in the pheromonal message. Nenda knew that subtlety of communication technique was beyond him. He won–dered if the Cecropians had mastered the means of
lying
with their chemical messengers.

"Already there is evidence of it," Atvar H'sial went on. "All through the spiral arm, the artifacts are restless. And they point here."

"Hey, you don't have to persuade me. I flew eight hundred light-years to land on this crapheap—and I don't give a damn about the artifacts. You can have them all—you're as bad as Kallik. Me, I'll settle for a few new bits of Builder technology. But I've another question for you. Why did you come here to see me, knowing I might blow you away? Not just to compare notes with me and Kallik, that's for sure."

"Ah. that is true. I came because you need me. And because I need you." Atvar H'sial gestured to the port, and to the bare expanse of Quake beyond it. "If you and I were the only people on this world, we would enjoy sole knowledge of any new Builder techniques. We might battle later over who should enjoy the powers of the Builders, but I would accept such a contest."

"That would be your mistake. But I still don't know why you came to me."

"Because today we are
not
the only ones on Quake. Others are here, who would make new knowledge generally available for the sake of science. Now, you are not a scientist, you are an adventurer. You are here for personal gain."

"Damn right. And so are you."

"Perhaps." There was amusement in Atvar H'sial's message, now that Louis Nenda knew how to read it. "And we do not want the Builders' powers shared still further. Rebka, Graves, and Perry are on Quake. They traveled the Umbilical just after us. They will not keep new knowledge to themselves. We might do something about that, but we have no way of knowing where they are."

"I assumed they would follow. What about Darya Lang? She came with you."

"No problem. She has . . . already been taken care of."

Chill certainty in the pheromones. There was a long pause.

"Well, all right," Louis Nenda said at last. His voice was soft. "You are a cold-blooded son of a bitch, aren't you?"

The Cecropian's proboscis trembled. "We attempt to give satisfaction."

"And you're taking a risk, telling me this."

"I think not." Atvar H'sial was silent for a moment. "There is no risk. Not to someone who has read and remembered the Lascia Four files. May I refresh your memory? A medical-supply capsule was plundered en route to Lascia Four. It never reached the planet, and without the viral inhibitors it carried, three hundred thousand people died. An augmented human, accompanied by a Hymenopt slave, was guilty of that atrocity. The Hymenopt died, but the human escaped and was never captured."

Louis Nenda said nothing.

"But about the other humans," Atvar H'sial continued. "We cannot locate them. I am especially worried about Graves."

"He's a madman."

"True. And he reads me and you—even without augmentation, he understands what I am thinking. He is too dangerous. I want him out of the way. I want
all three
out of the way."

"Understood. But I can't find them on Quake, any more than you can. So what are you proposing?"

"Before Summertide they will leave Quake. Their escape route is the Umbilical. That would have been my own line of retreat, until I saw your ship arriving and realized that it is equipped for space travel."