Charles Sheffield: Convergence

“Why?”

“That’s the big question. That’s what I have to find out. It’s as though the people who control the central government of the Phemus Circle want people to live short, stunted lives. They have more control that way. But I’m going to change things.”

“How?”

“You keep asking questions I wish I could answer. I have no idea how . But I’ll do it, or I’ll die trying. I’m sorry, Darya. Will you forgive me?”

“Forgive you? For what? For being responsible, and brave? There’s nothing to forgive. I’m proud of you, Hans.”

“But it means that we won’t—”

She silenced him by leaning forward and kissing him gently on the lips. “There. We’re going to see a lot of each other whenever we have a chance, but we are going to have separate jobs and separate lives. Right?”

“That’s one reason I feel so bad. To talk to you this way, just when your work has been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Her laugh was not at all the laugh of a broken-hearted woman. “Hans, I’ve got the best and fattest job ahead of me that a research worker could ever have. Before all this started, I was happy to study beings whom I thought had left the spiral arm at least three million years ago. Now I have all that old knowledge, plus more new information than I ever hoped for. And with Quintus Bloom gone I’m the only person, the only one in the whole arm, with all the information. Don’t you see it’s my duty to produce a final, definitive study of the Builders? I’ll even include Bloom’s theory, though I know it can’t be right.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“You’ll be sure, too, if you think about it. Because you know Quintus. If he is in the future, and they have time travel, he would make one action his top priority. What would it be?”

Hans frowned. “He’d send a message back. To prove to everybody that his theories are right.”

“Exactly. And he would do it in a way we couldn’t possibly overlook. No cryptic polyglyphs for him , no hiding in the middle of an artifact. So he can’t be right. But he’ll be in my reports anyway, along with every other speculation about the Builders. Can you see what a huge job I have ahead of me? It will take years and years of labor, and I’m going to need all the library support and computer power and research facilities that Sentinel Gate can produce. This is work I can’t do on the road. But I’ll still have to travel — the Phemus Circle had artifacts, and it’s at the intersection of two of the other major clades. I’ll visit you, sure I will, wherever you happen to be. And you can visit me whenever you get the chance, and stay as long as you like.”

“I will. No shared home, though. My job will be dangerous. The powers-that-be in the Phemus Circle won’t like what I’m planning to do.”

“They can’t touch me here on Sentinel Gate.”

“Darya, they might. If I’m successful, we don’t know how desperate they may get.”

“I’ll take that chance. I’m not afraid of risks, not any more. One day, when I’ve finished my work, I’ll come to the Phemus Circle. We’ll share the dangers.”

“But no children.”

“Hey! I didn’t agree to that. They won’t live in the Phemus Circle, of course, they’ll grow up on Sentinel Gate.”

“And be spoiled rotten.”

“Are you suggesting that I was spoiled? Don’t bother to tell me.” She leaned past him to stare at the status displays. “We’ll be through the final Bose Transition in five minutes. Come to the forward observation port after that. We’ll do some practical planning.” She stroked the short hair at the back of his neck, sending tingles through him, and was gone.

Hans stared at the controls as another message appeared over the superluminal communications network. Was that it , the confrontation that he had so been dreading? Darya was an exceptional woman. And a super-smart one. Because there it was, another artifact vanishing exactly as she had predicted. Every last one of them was going, according to the bulletins.

The Salvation was about to clear its final Bose Transition. Only when that last jump had been taken would he feel free to join Darya. The Bose Network was not a Builder creation, as he had once feared, but its nodes were certainly affected by the presence or absence of nearby Builder artifacts. He would be far easier in his mind as soon as he was sure that the ship could fly the rest of the way subluminal.

One minute more to the Bose Transition. Hans’s expression changed to a scowl as he checked the screen displays for the rear section of the ship. That damned Zardalu! He’d feel easier when the jump was over, and easier still when that midnight-blue nightmare was gone from the Salvation . Louis Nenda claimed that the beast was safe, but it had managed to work a tentacle loose while the ship was first going superluminal. If it had quietly used that tentacle to free itself, instead of flailing at every fixture within reach, it might now control the whole ship.

Maybe the Fourth Alliance did need a mature Zardalu for study, Hans thought, as the Bose indicator blinked in with a transition accurate to the microsecond. Maybe they would pay a huge reward for it, as Nenda and Atvar H’sial claimed. But did the two of them have to choose the biggest and meanest Zardalu that Rebka had ever seen?

They were feeding the brute now, with great chunks of synthetic meat. Were they trying to grow it even bigger? Well, good luck to them. Hans checked the control settings one more time and stood up. He had more productive — and pleasant — ways to pass the remaining days of subluminal flight.

Nenda and Atvar H’sial were feeding the Zardalu. They were also talking to it. And it was just as well that no one else on board could follow the conversation.

“Don’t give me that.” Nenda was using the extreme form of the master-slave language. “I saw what you did with just one tentacle free. You smashed bits of the ship all to hell, so me and At got blamed for bringing you aboard. We should have let you rot in Labyrinth. Taking over control of the Salvation is one thing, but unstrapping you so you can help do it is another.”

“Master.” The land-cephalopod, floating in front of Nenda, could scarcely move in its double-strapped harness. But the long purple tongue reached out, inviting him to step on it with his boot.

“You can put that thing away. It’s disgusting.”

“Yes, Master.” Four feet of tongue slid back into the narrow vertical mouth. “Master, I can help you to conquer this ship. I lost control of myself earlier. That is why I broke things. I thought that I was about to die.”

“Maybe you are — or worse. The people on Miranda say they want to examine an adult Zardalu. That’s you. But when they say ‘examine,’ they really mean ‘dissect.’ See, it all depends what I tell ’em. If I say you belong to me, and I need you back, that’s one thing. You stay in one piece, no cutting. But if I say you don’t belong to me, an’ I don’t care what happens to you…”

“I do belong to you. Completely. I will be your willing slave. Master, do not leave me in the hands of strange humans. My brood-mates and I learned our lesson on Serenity and on Genizee. We know that compared with your Master Race, all other species of the spiral arm are weak, pitiful, sentimental imbeciles. Humans are the most resourceful, intelligent, terrifying, and cruel beings in the whole spiral arm.” The saucer-sized cerulean eyes saw a scowl appear on Nenda’s face. “And also, of course, the most merciful .”

“Better believe it. All of it. Hold on a minute, though. Gotta talk to my partner.” Louis turned to Atvar H’sial. The Cecropian had been monitoring the exchange through Nenda’s pheromonal translation. She had been given a censored version of the Zardalu’s final comments. Delivery of the “weak, pitiful, sentimental imbeciles” comment had been postponed. Nenda would like to see Cecropian and Zardalu go fifteen rounds with the gloves off, but this was not the day for it.