Charles Sheffield - The Spheres of Heaven

Her questions went on and on. Finally she frowned, chewed at her lower lip, and asked, “What else can you tell me about the bubble people? Why are you so sure they can’t go on land, and could not be the makers of the aircraft that you saw?”

Bony was sure, but he didn’t know how to prove it. Help came from an odd quarter. The Angel, newly rooted in a large pot of black earth, had so far sat motionless and spoken not a word. Now the upper fronds waved and a mournful synthesized voice said, “ ‘ Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.’ ”

That was enough to draw Elke Siry’s attention. She turned away from Bony as the Angel went on, “The beings whom you term `bubble people’ are knowledgeable in certain forms of biotechnology. They are able to control living undersea organisms so as to construct simple domiciles, and they have a fair command of bioluminescent methods to achieve light during the hours of darkness.”

Dag Korin glared and asked Bony’s question. “How the devil can you possibly know such things?”

“We talked to them when we left our ship, the Minister of Grace .”

“You have no translation unit.”

“True, but irrelevant. We have no need of translation equipment. We learned and spoke their language.” Dag Korin snorted in surprise or disbelief, but the Angel went on calmly, “The bubble people lack knowledge of mechanical engineering, of physics, of mathematics, and of the world above the water. They say that the feature which you suspect to be a Link entry point was not always there. They lack sufficient concept of measured time to say when it arrived. However, to them the `foam object at the edge of the world which comes and goes’ is coupled with other bad changes. They are marine organisms and they have never been able to go on the land, but they used to visit the shallow waters close to the shore. Since the suspected Link point appeared, they cannot do so. If they go too close to the shore now, they say they will die or disappear. All this, together with the information that has been exchanged here, suggests certain tentative conclusions.”

Only, by the look of it, to Elke Siry. The Angel’s speech had come as no great surprise to Bony. Vow-of-Silence had mentioned that death came to Sea-wanderers who went close to the shore, and everything else fitted with what he already knew. But conclusions? He couldn’t deduce any. Nor, from the look of their faces, could Chan and the rest of the humans.

Except, of course, for Elke. She nodded at Gressel and said, “Certain conclusions, which perhaps I can make less tentative.” She touched the pad on her wrist, and one of the ship’s giant wall displays came alive. “The air-breathing pinnaces seem to be damaged beyond repair” — Chrissie and Tarbush exchanged anguished looks — “but the unmanned orbiters survived intact, and a few hours ago the ship was able to launch a pair of them. They are busy mapping the land and sea surface of this planet, and have provided occasional views of the heavens. Here is the night sky of Limbo, as seen from orbit.”

The screen filled, not with stars and veils of dust but with hundreds and thousands of glowing spheres. They could be seen in every direction from Limbo, too numerous to count, of all sizes and pulsing with their own soft light.

Elke Siry waited for the gasps and grunts of surprise to die down before she swiveled away from the display to face the others in the control room. “What we see there is not, I think we can all agree, anywhere in the Geyser Swirl. And that fact, together with everything else we know, is enough. With your permission, I will explain where we are, and what happened to bring us here. Though I suspect that she” — Elke stabbed a thin finger in the Angel’s direction — “already knows, because we seem to think in rather the same way.”

“We much prefer to be known as it . However.” The Angel opened wide its lower fronds. “ Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Call us what you will. And pray continue.”

Friday was not scared. Certainly not. He was Friday Indigo, and bad things didn’t happen to members of the Indigo family.

He told himself that the queasy feeling inside him was not fear, but he had to admit that he did feel a certain uneasiness . Until he caught sight of those desiccated and dissected bubble-creatures, he’d imagined nothing worse for himself than another shot from a black paralyzing cane.

“I am not from here.” He didn’t like the wobbly sound of his own voice, and he took a breath and started over. “I am not from here — not a native of this planet. I came from a star named Sol, through a device that we call a Link . But something went wrong with the Link transfer, and instead of arriving in open space my ship finished up in the sea not far from here.”

“Aha!” The little eyestalks twitched. “Then it is verified. Soon after arrival, I reassured the Level Threes and the Level Four untouchables that this world possessed no intelligence of use or danger to Malacostracans. When they brought word of an alien ship, washed into the river by the storm, and told of an alien air-breather on the shore, I was surprised. But I was right.”

At last, the translation unit seemed halfway to justifying its price. It was time to get down to business before it went wonky on him again. Friday said, “You’re not from here, I’m not from here. This planet probably isn’t worth peanuts to either of us. But both our races must have technology that the other one doesn’t possess.” Friday thought, not without a quiver of unpleasant memory, of the paralyzing black cane. “I’d like to propose a swap.”

The double pairs of pincers waved, and the Malacostracan inched forward on the flat table. The translation unit said, “ Swap? ”

So the machine wasn’t perfect yet. “A swap means a trading agreement. You tell me what I’ve got that you don’t have, and I tell you what I don’t have. If we agree that they seem equal, we make an exchange.”

Credit for making First Contact was wonderful, but alien technology had the potential to jump Friday financially far ahead of the whole Indigo clan. That would show his bastard cousins, always boasting about their money!

The eyestalks began to wiggle, but no sound came from the translator. Friday was ready to try again using other words when the machine finally said, “There is misunderstanding. You are a prisoner. Everything that you know and everything that you possess belongs to us. That includes your life.”

It was a bad start, but Indigo family tradition taught that every threat could be regarded as a step in negotiation.

Friday leaned forward. “It’s not just a matter of what I know, and what I own. Members of my species and others, together with their ships and their weapons, have also come to this planet. Even if you believe that you can capture and subdue every one of them, it won’t be easy. Now, I’m known and trusted by them. You’d be a lot better off with me as a go-between than as a prisoner.”

A simple enough statement, you’d think. But again there was that long pause. Eventually: “An interesting proposal. However, it is not one that I am able to accept or reject. It is necessary that we consult one of a higher level.”

“How many levels are there?” Friday had a mental image of a series of Malacostracans, decreasing in body size as they increased in authority, until he found himself addressing a Supreme Potentate the size of a flea.

“We have five levels.” The four front pincers turned to point inward. “I am a Level Two. What you suggest is a Level One decision.”

“How many Level Ones and Level Twos are there?”