Текст книги "Anvil of Stars"

Автор книги: Грег Бир

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On the screen, the bishop vulture lifted its long nose, revealing breathing and speech orifices beneath. Its chest expanded and it hissed slightly while saying, "We are very interested in your aggregate species. We have no such intelligent beings in our gathering. You will be very valuable and respected among us, and you will teach us much."

Erin glanced at the ceiling. Martin stared fixedly at the camera, face blank.

"A ship will attach to your ship in a few minutes," the bishop vulture said. "The samples will be collected by a sterilized machine within your ship."

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves and exchange names. We prefer to use names," Martin said.

"We have no need for names, but names can be assumed for your convenience."

"My name is Martin."

"I can be called Amphibian, since I seem to most resemble, in my biology, that class of animals you call amphibians."

"A better name might be Frog," Martin suggested.

"Then I will be called Frog. You will meet other representatives, and assign them names and categories, as you wish."

"Ship is approaching," Sharp Seeing announced.

With a gentle scraping sound, the ship attached to Double Seed, a thick extrusion surrounding the mechanical airlock like lips. Martin took a deep breath. Here it was—intrusion, and all the dangers that might bring. He wondered, too late, if they should have resisted direct contact—decided that would have been impossible.

Eye on Sky opened the exterior door. A gray cylinder with rounded ends entered. Then he closed the exterior door and opened the interior. The cylinder propelled itself into the bridge area with quiet spurts of air drawn through small slits in its middle, and expelled in similar slits arranged around its length.

Paola opened a small refrigerator and passed the samples in their transparent plastic container to Silken Parts, who swung around to release the container in front of the cylinder.

An arm extruded from the cylinder and took the container. The cylinder propelled itself softly to the airlock, and the door closed behind.

On the screen, the bishop vulture– Frog, Martin corrected himself—turned away for a moment, head cocked, then turned back. "We have several possibilities open to us. You may come to the surface of our fourth planet, to meet directly with our representatives, or you may remain within your ship. If you choose to visit the surface, you may use equipment we supply to make your stay comfortable; this is recommended, as testing of your samples tells us you would soon grow tired under this planet's gravity."

They've analyzed the samples already… Martin's neck and shoulders tensed and he shivered.

"You may also choose your mode of conveyance. These decisions may be made at your leisure. I will remain available to you at any time."

The screen blanked.

"Are we still sending?" Martin asked.

"I cut off when they did," Hakim said.

"It's a little abrupt," Martin said, "but it seems clear. We're going to spend some time getting used to them. If they're as smart as they seem, maybe we should expect them to get used to us." He made this speech in complete expectation of being overheard. He stumbled over the next few words, trying to say and do what they might be expected to say and do by the unimaginable minds that might be listening. "We've adapted to each other, but we were nearly equal when we fought our wars… How much harder to understand species much more advanced?"

He visualized tiny machines in the cylinder's exhalation, hiding in the ship like dust motes, transmitting by noach. Nothing at all compared to what we've already seen.

"It took us centuries to grow together," Silken Parts said, with no discernible unease. "We we hope for no atrocious deals here."

High-school students emoting before master critics. How long could it last?

The most important moment arrived: the first meeting, face to face, between the crew of Double Seedand some of the beings who seemed to control the Leviathan system.

Donna Emerald Sea had devised fancy uniforms for the humans to wear, and decorative sashes and ribbons for the Brothers. She adjusted Martin's particularly resplendent garb, winked at him briefly, stood before him with hands on hips, and said, "You look perfectly barbaric, Captain."

"Thank you," Martin said, and turned to Eye on Sky, who resembled a young girl's braided pony tail done up with ribbons, brought to life perhaps by Godpapa Drosselmeier for a joke. The Brothers and humans did look splendid—and naive; he hoped Frog and the others would find the display amusing, whatever passed for amusement among them—and convincing.

Donna went among the others, pinning, fidgeting. Martin remembered her adjusting the projected world-wedding gown on Theresa and became acutely aware once more of human limitations—and human beauties. He closed his eyes and swallowed.

Paola helped Donna with her uniform, black and red with gold sash, crew style.

Hakim wore his outfit stiffly. He reached up as Martin approached and stuck his finger between neck and high collar, Adam's apple bobbing in his thin throat. "Many years since we have worn these," he said. Hakim might be the least convincing of them.

The Brothers seemed natural actors. Not once had they broken character or showed the strain of their roles.

"We're ready, Captain," Donna said.

Six—three humans and three Brothers—would leave Double Seedand descend to Sleep's surface: Silken Parts, Strong Cord, and Eye on Sky; Martin, Paola, and Ariel. Martin appointed Erin Eire to replace him. Sharp Seeing would replace Eye on Sky.

They caught a glimpse of a white sphere in the screen, heard it scrape midships and seal itself around the airlock. The inner airlock door opened. Single file, they entered the smooth green interior of the transfer ship. Beyond a transparent panel, visible only as they turned a corner, stood another bishop vulture, not—Martin guessed—Frog itself.

"I am your helper now," the new bishop vulture said. "I have taken your word Salamander as name." It hissed faintly beneath its words. "If it does not offend or bring wrong meanings, you may so call me."

Eye on Sky introduced his companions. Martin and Eye on Sky had decided it might be best for a Brother to serve as primary leader on this excursion. Paola seemed up to the task of interpreting between two non-native speakers—the Brothers and their hosts.

There was method to this inconvenience: it could masquerade as power sharing, and the inevitable misunderstandings could hide their own confusion.

They drifted weightless in the middle of a small cabin. Martin noted a sensation of motion as the vessel separated from Double Seed. Invisible constraints much like fields surrounded them; their hosts' technology had advanced in parallel with the Benefactors at least to this degree. But then, fields were as logical and inevitable as fire had once been for humans.

Salamander hissed faintly again, said, "We descend now. There should be no discomfort. Would you like to examine conveyances for walking on the surface?"

"We we would like so now," Eye on Sky said. A panel of curved wall became transparent, revealing Salamander against a dark backdrop.

Another panel to Salamander's right cleared. Beyond, motionless white skeletal frames stood like robots made of elegant bones, one set for humans, another for the Brothers.

Martin was particularly impressed by the design for the Brothers' suits. Like padded snake ribs tied to two backbones, they would allow braids to move much as they did naturally, in normal gravitation, with a sinuous caterpillar motion.

"We hope these are suitable," Salamander said. "They are made to go unnoticed while worn."

"We we are assured," Eye on Sky said.

"There will be one for each member of your party."

"As expected," Eye on Sky said.

"And they will be fitted to each individual's shape and size," Salamander said.

"As expected."

"Your schedule for surface excursion…" Sharp hissing intake of breath, raising of the miter's nose, "winking" of the three amber eyes into the pale green flesh. "Upon landing and suiting up, there is orientation to teach you with more basics of how we behave and work. Then a meeting under shelter with representatives of the five primary races. Followed by proper induction ceremony for entry into the Cooperative of Fifteen Worlds. Exchange of information in a formal meeting with secretaries of the Living Council. I will accompany you and explain what is necessary, what you have questions for."

Ariel looked at Martin with a brief expression of boredom. Martin lifted his eyebrows in concurrence. Whatever excitement this meeting might have had—under any other circumstances, should have had—was lost in the tincture of overwhelming ceremony, not to mention awareness of its almost certain insincerity.

Camouflage upon masquerade upon deception.

Do these beings believe they are real, and free? Martin wondered. Are they? Have the Killers faded into their decoys?

Salamander lowered its head and gripped the metal bar before it, freezing suddenly like a museum display. After a moment, as the skeletal white suits disappeared behind opacity, it lifted its head again. "We have refreshments, liquids and foods, which we hope are palatable. Landing will be in fifteen minutes. You will not need to inconvenience yourselves, and you will not experience any discomfort beyond mild sensations of motion. We have provided food. You may dine after landing."

"Thank you," Eye on Sky said. "Reasons of religious nature, we all we must eat our own food."

They had taken enough risks already. There was no sense inviting microscopic spies into their bodies, or anything else they could avoid.

"Religious nature," Salamander repeated with some savor. "Rules dictated by perceived higher beings?"

"Food for humans and Brothers must be specially prepared. We all we will send food from our ship when needed, with we our food handler."

"That will be done," Salamander said. "Is this religious requirement very strong?"

Eye on Sky glanced at Martin and wove a small figure eight with splayed head cords. It seemed to want his help.

"Very," Martin said. Then, innocently, "Don't you have religious food laws? We assumed all civilizations would… obey higher authority."

Salamander did not answer for a time. It—or something listening through it—was obviously thinking over this question thoroughly. "We do not observe specific religious rules, " it answered. "Nor do most of us absorb nutrition by eating. There is one exception, a type living on the fourth planet."

Martin's expedient, and little test, had been neatly sidestepped. Martin said, "Are… most of you mechanical?"

"No," Salamander said. "We are organic."

"We we foresee such things as artificial bodies," Eye on Sky said, back on track. "Are you naturally born, or artificial?"

"These questions can be answered later," Salamander said. "They are not as simple as they might seem."

Martin curled his legs and folded his arms, floating within his protective field. He could feel little of the ship's motion; no obvious acceleration. But the always-sinking sensation of weightlessness changed in a way he couldn't quite describe; as if his arms and legs might be getting heavier, yet not his torso.

The odd sensation faded, replaced by something they hadn't experienced in years—the heaviness of being in a planet's gravitation. Theory told them there was no difference between weight caused by acceleration and the heaviness brought on by gravity, but Martin had the eerie sensation of knowingthe difference.

The protective fields did not diffuse through their bodies; they provided support for externals, but not for internal muscles and organs, and the heaviness immediately became oppressive, almost nauseating.

"Are you comfortable?" Salamander asked.

Eye on Sky made a squeaking sound. Martin looked to the Brother's hind section and saw cords letting go. The Brother smelled like a pine forest—euphoria and fear, he guessed.

"I feel a little sick," Martin said. Ariel said she was not comfortable.

The fields glowed and sparkled briefly, and the disparity faded. The Brothers did not completely disassemble; the cords grabbed hold again. Paola's face took on color and Ariel let her fists relax.

"Better," Martin said.

Where the skeletal support suits had been displayed, an equally convincing view of the planet's surface appeared. They seemed to descend from an altitude of nine or ten kilometers. The horizon showed no curvature; the atmosphere, only a few kilometers thick, glimmered in a thin bright line between the dull red, black, and dark blue expanse of Sleep, and the starry blackness of space.

Martin saw orderly features below, triangles, circles, lines of gray against the dull red and black, circles of white lying on the blue expanse of sea. Mountains appeared against the horizon, white rock capped with orange and pink, deep in shadow now.

Dawn was breaking, and from three hundred million kilometers, Leviathan's light poured over Sleep's sea and land, setting ablaze streamers of cloud and smoke from crustal vents.

Martin heard a faint whining noise–perhaps their craft singing through Sleep's atmosphere. Puffs of cloud shot past. He felt the planetary pull more intensely, but without much more discomfort.

He avoided thinking about how they were being manipulated. There was no practical way they could protect themselves against tampering. The Killers can change matter from a great distance. They could change parts of our own bodies to suit their purposes… kill us immediately, fill us with tiny spies, even control the way we think.

He looked at Ariel, trying not to let his misery and fear show. She held out her hand, and he took it without hesitation. Paola held out her hand, too, and then Silken Parts extended a cord, and Paola took hold of that, and Ariel grasped a cord offered by Eye on Sky. Strong Cord connected with Martin and the circle was complete.

He didn't feel any less afraid, but he certainly felt less alone.

"Are you disturbed? Not comfortable?" Salamander asked.

Eye on Sky, who should have answered for the group, said nothing.

"We're comfortable," Martin said hoarsely, and cleared his throat.

"We are not familiar with that communication," Salamander said, and repeated the sound of his throat clearing. "What does it mean?"

"An… organic sound," Martin said. "No meaning."

"Like my hissing and breathing," Salamander offered.

"Right," Martin said.

"Do my extraneous sounds bother you?"

"No," Martin said. Under other circumstances– if this masquerade were real—he thought he could feel affection for Salamander, so solicitous was the bishop vulture, trying to make their journey easier.

The wonderful, withdrawing blink of the beautiful amber eyes, the flushing pink of patches of the pastel green skin; the creature was actually quite beautiful. I'm flipping back and forth. Emotional strain. Keep it even.

The exposed crust of Sleep was incredibly rugged, a chaos of broken black rock, some blocks hundreds of meters wide, lying over and across each other with glassy extrusions sharp as knives. Between the blocks lay drifts of orange and pink powder, from which winds blew streaming hazes that glittered in the sunlight.

The ship still flew a few kilometers from the surface. Into their view came a stretch of sea, mottled blue-green, kilometer wide white poker-chips floating motionless amid low, oily waves.

As they watched, a distant section of crust collapsed like an edge of glacier calving on Earth. A thick plume of black smoke arose, splaying out into a low anvil in seconds. Red highlights glowed through the murk.

"We will land on a platform in the ocean in three minutes," Salamander announced. "This must be very unfamiliar to you. Do you have any questions?"

"Thousands of questions," Martin said. "There just isn't time to ask them all."

"I we have one question," Eye on Sky said. "Is this planet natural, or artificial?"

"Both," Salamander said. "Once it was a small star. We have been changing it for thousands of years. First it was used as an energy and fuel source. Now, the easiest answer would be to say that it is artificial. It supplies commodities to the rest of our system."

The ocean filled more and more of their view, until only a line of black cliffs separated ocean from lurid, cloud-stripped sky.

"We are now on the platform. Your suits are in another room. We will leave the craft when you are prepared. At no time will you be exposed to the actual atmosphere, which is not suitable for your biology, and rich with small organisms that might be dangerous to you, besides."

Part of the wall moved aside and they stepped carefully, aided by the fields, into another room, this one equipped with a low stage. The skeletal suits hung from the ceiling above the stage.

"Do you think we're alone?" Paola asked. "Everything projected, remote-controlled?"

"Could be," Martin said.

Eye on Sky produced a smell of tea and soil. "Useless to make guesses," he said.

Salamander's voice instructed them to stand on the stage. Wrapped by their fields, they moved, with some difficulty, to spots marked by faint glows of light. A small, perfect image of each of them appeared next to the appropriate suit, like a nametag. Martin stood before his suit, facing it. "Turn around, please, with your backs to the suits."

He turned. The suit whispered behind him and his neck hair bristled. Its fluid "bones" wrapped around him, gripping him comfortably.

He moved experimentally. The suit moved effortlessly with him.

Useless to make guesses. Everything a mystery. Ants in a kitchen.

"You will be surrounded by invisible barriers when outside. Your breathing should be natural, and you should not worry. We caution against these things only: do not move rapidly, and do not move away from the path or away from your group."

"Right," Martin said. He watched the Brothers getting used to their suits, flexing them, raising three fourths of their lengths from the stage. Ariel lifted her arms experimentally, cocked her head, looked at Martin sidewise.

"Comfortable?" he asked. Ariel and Paola nodded; Strong Cord and Eye on Sky put their suits through more tests before concurring. "We're ready," Martin told the unseen Salamander.

"The ship will debark you in an open area. You should enjoy experiencing the surface as directly as possible. It is quite beautiful. There is no danger, but if you would like to avoid this, we can remove this part of your journey."

Eye on Sky answered, "We we would like to see the surface."

Martin didn't disagree, but he was not enthusiastic. He had seen enough marvels and spectacle already to be spiritually exhausted.

The spacecraft opened around them and stowed itself like a folding screen, leaving them on the white stage, surrounded by an immensity of gray and black sky, midnight blue ocean, dark cliffs rising thousands of meters above the sea. He could feel the flesh-thumping sound of distant explosions, grindings of crust; hear noise like giants groaning and whistling. The sudden openness was unnerving. His hands trembled within the pliant grip of the skeletal suit.

"Wow," Ariel said, her face pale. The air within Martin's field was self-contained, and he could not smell the Brothers. But he could smell his own reaction—rank fear.

The weight on his stomach and lungs gave him sharp twinges

of pain, as if strings tied to pins in his organs were being tugged. Martin doubted he would want to spend more than a few hours on the surface of Sleep.

A causeway reached across the sea to a broad white disk. Salamander's voice spoke in his right ear: "Your suits will walk you over this distance. The disk is a kind of ferry. You will be taken to a shore station, and there will meet with more of our representatives. Are you experiencing discomfort?"

"I'm fine," Martin said.

The suit nudged him and he tried to walk but it resisted. Finally he relaxed and the suit did all his work for him, moving him like a puppet, a sensation he did not enjoy. They were all guided over the causeway to the disk, which promptly disengaged and moved smoothly through the thick, rapid waves.

Martin's vision coarsened and the landscape became more vivid. This might have been an effect of gravity; it also might have been an effect of the field containing his atmosphere.

Useless to make guesses,

The ferry skirted a thick mass of green covering a few hundred square meters, undulating on the seas, large bubbles rising and breaking through like explosions in fibrous mud.

"One of our types finds these waters comfortable," Salamander said. "An individual would enjoy seeing you. Is this okay with you?"

"Acceptable," Eye on Sky said.

Seconds later, a bright red nightmare of jointed arms pushed through the water and heaved part of itself onto the ferry. Paola gave a little squeak and backed close to Martin. The Brothers seemed frozen in place, making no comments, weathering this surfeit of experience.

The nightmare's arms parted with a motion combining the curl of a squid's tentacles and the up-and-down pistoning of a spider's legs. A remarkable "face" appeared, four glittering egg-shaped eyes in a mass of glossy black flesh, surrounded by alternating fleshy rings of yellow and gray.

"This type serves a capacity like a farmer in these seas, but makes many decisions in our political framework," Salamander explained. "Its kind denies the value of artificial enhancements. Like you, it eats, and is very strict about what it eats, and when, and how. Perhaps in the future you may hold discussions. You may share sympathies."

"Sure," Martin said dubiously. He very much wanted it to go away.

The simple expansiveness of sea and sky bothered him more than he could have imagined. He was so used to the confines of the ships, enclosed universes…

To his relief, the creature pushed away from the raft and vanished into the waves.

"It had at least thirty arms," Paola said. "I couldn't count them all!"

Another voice spoke in his ear: Erin Eire on Double Seed. "How's the trip, Martin?"

He stuttered for a moment, surprised by the communication. "We're healthy," he said. "It's bigdown here. Wide open spaces."

"Sounds lovely," Erin said. "You look a little tied up in those suits. We're all watching here—both crews. The transmissions are clear. We're overhead now. Look up and you might see us."

Martin looked up but saw nothing in the muddy blackness. "No visual," he said.

"Too bad. Don't feel lonely."

Salamander's voice returned. "We will pass around this promontory."

Waves slid up against jagged blocks of crust with tremendous force but little spray, rivulets of water fleeing quickly back to the ocean. The ferry came within a hundred meters of the turmoil, and passed around a high point of black and brown rock rising like a squat tower.

Beyond the promontory, at the far side of a deep harbor, three rocky tunnel mouths opened, each about fifty meters high and perhaps forty wide. Square tongues of polished gray stone pushed out of the tunnels into the harbor.

Even from a few kilometers, Martin heard the deep breath of the tunnels, felt the airborne shudder of water rushing in, pushing out.

The ferry crossed the harbor quickly and the tunnels loomed, making sounds such as Odysseus might have heard approaching Scylla and Charybdis. The light of Leviathan fell behind the headland now, and murky shadow surrounded them, broken by the white luminosity of their ferry. Ariel's face appeared ghostly, shadows of cheeks, chin, and nose rising across her eyes.

"Are we going in there?" Paola asked.

"Yes," Salamander answered. "We will dock at the second tunnel from your left. Transportation will arrive soon. Within the station, there are type individuals of some of the beings occupying our system. They will speak with you."

"Martin," Paola said, "I think the Brothers are having problems."

Martin looked at Eye on Sky and Silken Parts, both shivering within their suits. Strong Cord seemed fine, sliding beside his companions with solicitous sounds, squirks and clatters. "What's wrong?" Martin asked.

"This is what is seen when disassembled," Eye on Sky said, voice harsh and uneven. "This is the cave of youth on the shore, where young come together as braids after cords fight."

"Paola, what do you know about this?"

"Something about adulthood rituals… Nothing in their literature that I've found. Maybe it's deep memory."

"It is intimate," Strong Cord said. "Difficulty buried in minds of cords. I we are disturbed, but we we more disturbed."

"Salamander, some of us are having problems," Martin said.

"How may we help?" Salamander's voice asked.

"Can you block off the view, cover us?" Martin asked. A white canopy rose from the disk like a pleated piece of paper and unfolded over them, blocking the sky but not the view ahead.

Eye on Sky's trembling stopped. Silken Parts continued to shiver for a few more seconds, then writhed spasmodically and became still, again in control.

What else can go wrong? Martin faced the immense tunnel openings without the Brothers' deep-seated concerns, but also without any enthusiasm. This entire journey seemed calculated to overawe, and despite Eye on Sky's agreement to this journey, that said nothing good about their hosts. Rather than manufacture comfortable surroundings, they seemed to want to test their guests—

Test. Gather information about reactions to strenuous conditions. The Killers had done that on Earth with even less mercy.

The disk bumped gently against the edge of the dock. A ramp smoothed out to join with the disk.

"You may walk by yourselves," Salamander's voice informed them. Eye on Sky went first, skeletal white suit rippling. Paola followed, then Martin, and finally all stood on the hard dark gray surface.

The disk sank beneath the fast thick waves. No way back– is that the meaning? Is there any meaning, or just insensitivity to aliens whose psychology they know nothing about?

The tunnel's ceiling hung over them like the edge of a black void. The floor beneath advanced into shadow.

Silken Part's dark cords became part of the obscurity beyond; his suit seemed to stand by itself, moving like a cartoon spook. Ariel stepped closer. "I think we should get back to the ship in a couple of hours," she said to Martin.

A tiny simulacrum of a bishop vulture—Frog or Salamander—appeared in the tunnel, perfect in every detail. Martin adjusted his focus to learn whether the image was floating deep back in the tunnel, or nearby, and found it was only a meter from his face, a few centimeters in size. Surprised, Ariel dodged the simulacrum as if it were an insect. She straightened in her suit with a pained expression.

"Salamander, we need to be back in our ship within two hours," Martin said. The simulacrum grew larger, like an object seen in a zoom lens. Martin heard Salamander's voice from that direction.

"The meetings will last only twenty minutes this first time," it said. "You will be returned to your ship after that, and other meetings will be planned."

A bright red circle appeared deep in the tunnel. "Please move toward the circle. You will see," Salamander assured them.

The three Brothers slithered ahead, apparently recovered from their initial difficulties.

At first, Martin could see nothing beyond their immediate surround. The six of them—and Salamander's floating image—were clearly visible. As his eyes grew accustomed, he made out more and more, seeing first an uncertain wave-like motion on the distant walls, then shades and details.

The walls churned. Blocky shapes crawled up in lines like geometric slugs, deflected by obstacles that extruded into their paths. Near the edge of the floor, splashing, sucking sounds told him that water flowed either in hidden gutters or through deep channels beneath.

"What is it?" Paola asked. Martin had no answer. The red circle grew. Spots of dim green and blue light appeared on the walls, moving with the blocky shapes but not issuing from them.

"What are those?" Paola asked.

"Living machines that process and store chemicals made in the seas," Salamander said. "The seas are factories. There is much traditional industry on this world."

The red circle faded. "You may stop now," Salamander said.

This is it. They'll kill us now, then dissect the ship at leisure, torturing, misleading, learning what they can.

Walls lifted from the floor around them, bright blue like clear sunny skies on Earth, and a kind of music played, without melody but very pleasant.

"You will meet first with four representatives," Salamander announced. The simulacrum vanished and Salamander entered, full sized, through a door in a luminous wall.

"Is this your physical form?" Eye on Sky asked, head cords splayed wide, the eyes on each cord glittering.

"This is my form," Salamander said. "Individuals are not limited to single bodies. There are many versions of myself working. This is true of nearly all the type individuals you will meet."

Safety in numbers. No sense attacking– you can't kill us all, we have copies, backups stashed everywhere.

Martin pretended to be impressed, but in fact the children had been told about this early in their voyage, along with other facts about advanced technological species.

The surprise was that, given their abilities, the inhabitants of these worlds still had physical form at all.

Their hosts fit few norms.

"Are you prepared to meet with these representatives?"

"Yes," Martin said.

"Yes," Eye on Sky said.

Martin felt a sting of anticipation.

Through the door came a being with two elephantine legs, two three-jointed arms emerging from a barrel chest, and a small, eyeless head. Despite having seen it in still images before, Martin's throat tightened and his heart-rate increased. The creature stood at least three meters high, well adapted to this kind of gravity, moving with a curious waddle like the gait of a fat human combined with the ponderous grace of an elephant. It wore no clothing and carried no equipment.

Salamander walked beside the thick-legged elephantoid, striding on four limbs, bat-like, crest rising and falling.