Charles Sheffield - Transcendence

“That’s different — that’s down at the level of atoms and electrons.”

“Maybe.” Louis Nenda turned his head away from the shield, then as quickly turned back. “But I still see blue, an’ then yellow. I guess if it’s impossible, nobody told the shield. If I knew how that gadget worked I could name my own price at the Eyecatch Gallery on Scordato.” He leaned over the pool again and filled his flask. “Wish we had something to go with this.”

With worries over water supply out of the way, the humans’ concerns were turning more and more to food. Kallik would be all right — a Hymenopt could reduce her metabolism and survive for five months without food or water. J’merlia and Atvar H’sial could manage for a month or more. “Which just leaves me an’ thee,” Nenda said to Hans Rebka. “We have to stop gawping around and find a way out of here. You’re the boss. Where do we go next? We could wander around forever.”

That thought had been on Hans Rebka’s mind for the past four hours, since the last sign of the Zardalu had vanished. “I know what we have to do,” he replied. “But I don’t know how.” He waved his arm to take in the whole chamber. “If we’re going to get out, we need a road map for this place. And that means we need to find whoever built it. One thing’s for sure, it wasn’t the Zardalu. It’s nothing like the surface buildings.”

“I do not know who built this, and I, too, do not know how to determine the present location of that entity.” J’merlia had been quietly watching and listening, pale-yellow eyes blank and remote. “Also, we are dealing with a region of planetary dimensions — billions of cubic kilometers. However, I can suggest a procedure which may lead to a meeting with the beings who control and maintain this region.”

Hans Rebka and Louis Nenda stared at him. Neither could get used to the new, poised J’merlia. “I thought you just said you don’t know how to find ’em,” Nenda grumbled.

“That is correct. I do not know where to go. Yet there are ways by which the controllers of the interior of Genizee may perhaps be persuaded to come to us . All we need to do, on a sufficiently large scale, is this .”

The Lo’tfian stepped across to where two spinning disks like giant glass cogwheels stood next to a set of long, dark prisms. He picked up one of the triangular cylinders and thrust it into the narrow gap where the wheels met. The walls of the whole chamber shuddered. There was a distant scream of superstrength materials stressed beyond their limits, and the disks jerked to a halt.

“Destruction,” J’merlia went on. “Wholesale destruction. Much of this equipment may be self-repairing, but for damage sufficiently massive, outside service must also be needed. There should be reporting systems and repair mechanisms. Stand well clear.” He moved to stand by a river of liquid light and pushed a plate of support material to block its path. Sparks flew. The river screamed, and light splashed like molten gold. A dozen machines around the chamber began to smoke and glow bright red. “Very good.” J’merlia turned to the others. “I suggest that you either assist — or please stay out of the way.”

Louis Nenda was already joining in, with a gusto and expertise that suggested much experience in violent demolition. He had found a straight bar of hardened metal and went along one wall, smashing transparent pipes filled with glowing fluid. Flashing liquid streams flew in all directions. Whatever they touched began to smoke and crumble. At the opposite wall, J’merlia jammed more locking bars into rotating machinery. Kallik and Atvar H’sial worked together in the center of the vault, tackling structural supports. They found a tilted and unsupported ramp and heaved on it in unison. The domino effect of its fall brought a whole chain of beams crashing down.

Hans Rebka stood aloof and watched for unknown dangers. He marveled at the energies that the small group was calling into action. Devices in the interior of Genizee must have been designed for normal wear and tear, but not for deliberate sabotage. They employed great forces, finely balanced. And when that delicate balance was destroyed…

“Look out behind!” Rebka cried. A rotating flywheel at the far end of the chamber, removed from all load, was spinning faster and faster. The whir of rotation rose to a scream, went hypersonic, and ended in a huge explosion as the wheel burst. Everyone ducked for cover until the flying debris had settled, then went back to work.

Within ten minutes the chamber was a smoking ruin. The only movement was the shuddering of rigid cogwheels and the rising of steam.

“Very good,” J’merlia said calmly. “And now, we wait.”

And hope that whoever owns this place doesn’t get too mad with hooligans, Hans Rebka thought. But he did not say anything. J’merlia’s idea was wild, but who had a better one?

For another quarter of an hour there was nothing to see or hear but the slow settling of broken equipment. The first sign that J’merlia’s strategy might be working came from an unexpected direction. The ceiling of the chamber had been crumbling, releasing a snow of small gray flakes. That fall suddenly intensified. The ceiling began to bulge downward in the middle, right above where the group was standing. They scattered to all sides. But instead of dropping failing struts and broken beams, the bulge grew. The ceiling parted, to become the bottom of a silvery, rounded sphere.

As the shape of the new arrival became visible, Hans Rebka felt surprise, relief, and disappointment. He had met sentient Builder constructs before, on Glister and on Serenity. He had not expected to find one in the interior of Genizee, but now he suspected that this meeting would not be useful. The constructs probably intended no harm to humans, but pursuit of their own perverse agendas often led to that result. Worst of all, they had been in stasis or working alone for millions of years, ever since the Builders had departed the spiral arm. Their performance was eccentric, rusty, too alien, or all three. Communication with them was a hit-or-miss affair, and Hans Rebka felt that he missed more than he hit. But better the devil one knows…

“We are lost and we need help. Our party came here from far away.” As soon as the construct was fully visible, Rebka began to describe who they were, and how they had come to Genizee. As he spoke, the object in front of them began the familiar metamorphosis from quivering quicksilver sphere to distorted ellipsoid. A silver frond grew from the top, developing into the usual five-petaled flower. Open pentagonal disks extruded from the front of the ball, and a long, thin tail grew downward. The flower-head looked directly at Rebka.

He went on describing events, although he suspected that the sense of his words did not yet matter. Before communication could begin, the dormant translation system of the construct had to waken and be trained on a sufficient sample of human speech.

Rebka talked for a couple of minutes, then paused. That should be more than enough. There was the usual annoying wait, and at last a gentle hissing sound followed by a volcanic belch.

“On the boil!” Louis Nenda said. His arms and chest were covered with little blisters where droplets of corrosive fluid had spattered him. He ignored them. “But sluggish. Mebbe it needs a dose of salts—”

“One at a time during speech analysis,” Rebka interrupted. “You can all talk once it settles on human patterns.”

“… lost… and need help.” The gurgling voice sounded as if someone were talking through a pipe filled with water. ”… coming… coming from… far away…”

The quivering of the surface continued in agitated ripples, as the petaled head scanned the smoking debris of the chamber. “Lost, but now here. Here, with the evil beings who committed this… this great destruction …”