Charles Sheffield - Transcendence

“With respect, Atvar H’sial would like to make a statement,” J’merlia put in. He had been translating the argument for the Cecropian. “Dulcimer is a liar, says Atvar H’sial, but he also has low cunning. We must assume that he made himself absent not by accident at this time, but by design .”

“Why?” Graves asked. He bit back the urge to order J’merlia to stop acting like a slave to Atvar H’sial. J’merlia was a free being now — even if he didn’t want to be.

“In order to divide our group against itself,” the Lo’tfian translator went on, “as it has just been divided by the fighting of Louis Nenda and Captain Rebka. Dulcimer’s influence is maximized when we are not united. Also, he wished us to realize what we seem to be proving for ourselves, by our substitution of emotion for thought: without the Polypheme, we have no idea how to penetrate the Anfract. You have been playing Dulcimer’s game.” Atvar H’sial’s blind white head swung to survey the whole group. “If this battle does not cease, Dulcimer will surely return — to gloat over our disarray.”

Atvar H’sial was getting through — Darya knew it, because Louis Nenda and Hans Rebka would not look at each other.

“Hell, we weren’t fightin’,” Nenda muttered. “We were just havin’ a discussion about where we want to go.”

“That’s right,” Rebka added. “We wouldn’t know what to tell Dulcimer, even if he was here.”

“Yes, we would!” It had taken a long time, but Darya could finally make her point. “If Dulcimer can get us to the Anfract, Kallik and I can give him a destination inside it.”

At last she had their attention. “If you’ll sit still for a few minutes, without fighting, I’ll show you the whole thing. Or Kallik will — it was really her idea.” She glanced at Kallik, but the little Hymenopt sank to the floor, while her ring of black eyes flickered in the signal of negation. “All right, if you don’t want to, I’ll do it. And I can use this same display.”

Darya took over the control console, while the others moved to sit where they could easily see. They watched silently as she outlined her own analysis of geodesics around the Anfract, mated it with Kallik’s sifting of planetary sightings within the complex, and carried on to provide a summary of computed locations.

“Five or six possibles,” she finished. “But luckily previous expeditions have provided good-quality images of each one. Kallik and I reviewed them all. We agree on just one prime candidate. This one.”

She was zooming into the Anfract display along one of her computed light-paths, a dizzying, contorted trajectory with no apparent logic to it. A star became visible, and then, as Darya changed the display scale and the apparent speed of approach, the field of view veered away from the swelling disk of the sun. A bright dot appeared.

“Planet,” Julian Graves whispered. “If you are right, we are looking at something lost for more than eleven millennia: Genizee, the Zardalu cladeworld.”

A planet, and yet not a planet. They were closing still, and the point of light was splitting.

“Not just one world,” Darya said. “More of a doublet, like Opal and Quake.”

“Not too like either one, I hope.” The anger had gone out of Hans Rebka and he was staring at the display with total concentration. As the world images drew closer he could see that there were differences. Quake and Opal had been fraternal twins, the same size though grossly dissimilar in appearance. The Anfract doublet was more like a planet and its single huge moon, the one blue-white and with a surface hazily visible between swirls of cloud cover, the other, just as bright though only half the size, glittering like burnished steel. Darya’s display in accelerated time showed the gleaming moon, tiny even at highest magnification, whirling around the planet at dizzying speed, against a fixed backdrop of steady points of light. Rebka peered at the planet and its moon, not sure what it was that forced him to such intense examination.

“And now we need Dulcimer, more than ever,” Louis Nenda added, breaking Rebka’s trance. Nenda, too, had been sitting quietly through Darya’s presentation, but during the approach trajectory he had twisted and writhed in his seat as though matching its contortions.

“Why?” Darya felt hurt. “I just showed you the way to go into the Anfract.”

“Not for any vessel I ever heard of.” Nenda shook his dark head. “There’s not a ship in the arm could follow that path an’ stay in one piece. Not even this monster. We gotta find an easier way in. That means we need Dulcimer. We gotta have him.”

“Quite right,” said a croaking voice at the entrance to the control chamber. “ Everybody needs Dulcimer.”

They all turned. The Chism Polypheme was there, sagging on his coiled tail against the chamber wall. The dark green of his skin had faded and lightened to the shade of an unripe apple. While all had been intent on Darya’s presentation, no one had noticed his entry or knew how long he had been slumped there.

Atvar H’sial had predicted that the Chism Polypheme would return to gloat. She had been wrong. He had returned, but from the look of him he was far from gloating. While they watched, Dulcimer’s tail wobbled from under him and he slid lower down the wall. Louis Nenda swore and hurried to his side. The scanning eye on its short eyestalk had withdrawn completely into the Polypheme’s head, but the master eye above it remained wide open, vague and blissful as it peered up at the stocky Karelian human. Nenda bent and placed his hand on Dulcimer’s upper body.

He cursed. “I knew it. Look at the green on him. He’s sizzlin’ . Without a radiation source! How the blazes could he get so hot, without even leavin’ the Erebus ?”

“Not hot,” Dulcimer murmured. “Little bit warm, that’s all. No problem.” He lay face down on the floor and seemed to sag into its curved surface.

“A power kernel!” Nenda said. “It has to be. I didn’t know there were any on this ship.”

“At least four,” E.C. Tally informed them.

“But shielded, surely, every one of ’em.” Nenda stared suspiciously at the embodied computer. “Aren’t they?”

“Yes. But when the Chism Polypheme first came on board the Erebus —” Tally paused at Nenda’s expression. He was programmed to answer questions — but he was also programmed to protect himself from physical damage.

“Go on.” Nenda was glowering. “Amaze me.”

“He asked me to show him any kernels that might be on board. Naturally, I did so. And then he wondered aloud if there might be any way that a shield could be lowered in just one place, to permit a radiation beam to be emitted from the kernel interior to a selected site outside it. It was not a standard request, but I contain information on such a procedure in my files. So naturally, I—”

“Naturally, you.” Nenda swore again and prodded Dulcimer with his foot. “Naturally, you showed him just how to cook himself. What junk did they put in that head of yours, Tally, after they pushed the On button? Look at him now, grilled on both sides. If you don’t know enough to keep a Polypheme away from hard radiation… I’ve never seen the skin color so light. He’s really smoking.”

“Nice and toasty,” Dulcimer corrected from floor level. “Just nice and toasty.”

“How long before he’ll be back to normal?” Darya asked. She had moved to stand closer to the Polypheme. He did not seem to see her.

“Hell, I dunno. Three days, four days — depends how big a radiation slug he took. A whopper, from the looks of it.”

“But we need him right now. He has to steer us to the Anfract.” She had run off a copy of the computed coordinates of Genizee, and she waved it in Nenda’s face. “It’s so frustrating , when we finally know where we have to go to find the Zardalu…”