Starplex (30 page)

"Doing so," said Lianne. But then, a moment later, "I'm sorry, Keith.

There's nothing."

Keith closed his eyes. She could be safe, he told himself, she could have gone through to another exit, she could-- "Tachyon pulse!" said Rhombus in what PHANTOM translated as a shout.

Keith swiveled around to look at the shortcut, now swelling into a purple-limned shape--in the exact cross sectional outline of a Commonwealth probeship.

"It's the Rum Runner!" crowed Thor.

"Incoming signal," said Lianne. She touched keys and a hologram of Rissa's beaming face appeared inside a floating frame.

"Hello, everyone," said Rissa. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Pdssa!" said Keith, rising to his feet.

"Hello, darling," said Rissa, smiling radiantly.

"Rhombus," said Keith, "can they dock with us, given the course we're on?"

"They can if I give them a tow with a tractor beam."

Keith was grinning widely. "Please do so!"

"Okay, guys," said Rhombus, "prepare to be grabbed by a tractor."

Longbottle's gray face popped up next to Rissa's. "Pre- pared are we!

Home we come!"

"Locking on," said Thor.

"Thor," said Keith, "do you have a fix on Cat's Eye?"

"Yes. He's about ten million klicks ahead, at about nine o'clock to the green star."

"I've located a vacant frequency in the darmat babble, in case you want to talk to him," said Lianne. "Somebody must have left the conversation recently."

"Excellent," said Keith. "Keep track of it. As soon as Rissa's back on board, I'll want to open communication."

"We'll have the Rum Runner in docking bay seven in about three minutes,"

said Rhombus.

Keith was anxious as hell. He tried to hide it by checking status reports on his monitor screens, but his mind wasn't registering the words. At last, the' starfield split and Rissa appeared, framed by the corridor beyond. Keith ran to her, and they hugged, then kissed. The rest of the bridge crew cheered as she entered. A moment later, Longbottle popped up in one of the two open pools. Rissa knelt down beside him and rubbed his bulging forehead. "Thanks for getting us home safe and sound, buddy," she said.

"We're doing a quick parabolic path," Keith said to them.

"I don't think the darmats can grab us this time, but I want to communicate with them--find out why in the hell they attacked us."

Rissa nodded, stood up, kissed Keith once more, then moved over to her workstation. She pressed keys, calling up the translation program.

"Do we still have a vacant frequency?" asked Keith.

"Yes," said Lianne.

"All right. Let's jump into the conversation. Lianne, open a channel from my console with automatic translation, but put a five-second delay in before you send whatever I say."

He looked at Rissa. "I'll speak directly to Cat's Eye, but if I say anything wrong or something that you don't think will translate properly, jump in, and we'll reword the message before it goes out."

Rissa nodded.

"Ready," said Lianne.

"Starplex to Cat's Eye," said Keith. "Starplex to Cat's Eye. We are friends. We are friends." Keith glanced at a counter. At light-speed, it would still be thirty-five seconds before the message reached Cat's Eye, and almost that long again before any reply would arrive.

But no reply came. Keith waited an extra full minute, then another.

He touched a key and tried again. "We are friends."

Finally, after a forty-second delay in addition to the round-trip signal time, a reply came through. Just two words, in a curt French accent:

"Not friends."

"Yes," said Keith. "We are friends."

"Friends not hurt," came the reply, with no delay beyond that caused by transmission times.

Keith was taken aback. Had they somehow hurt the darmats? It was almost inconceivable that they could injure such giant creatures.

Still . . . perhaps the sampling probes had caused pain. Keith didn't have the slightest idea how to apologize; the vocabulary Rissa had built up didn't deal with such concepts.

"We did not mean to hurt you," said Keith.

"Not directly," said Cat's Eye.

Keith spread his hands and looked around the bridge.

"Anybody understand that?"

"I think he means whatever injury we caused wasn't a direct injury,"

said Lianne. "We didn't hurt them, but hurt--or were going to hurt--something that was important to them."

Keith touched the transmit key. "We intend no injury to anything. But you--you deliberately tried to kill us."

"Make you. Not make you."

Keith keyed the mike off. "'Make you. Not make you,'" he repeated, shrugging helplessly. "Anybody?"

Lianne lifted her hands, palms up. Jag moved all four of his shoulders.

Rhombus's web was dark.

Keith reactivated the mike. "We want to be friends again."

The response time was getting shorter as Starplex's parabolic course brought the ship closer to Cat's Eye. "We want to be friends again, too," said the darmat., Keith thought for a moment, then: "You say we injured you somehow. We did not intend any injury. So that we don't do it again, will you tell us what we did wrong?"

The delay time was nerve-racking. Finally: "Attacking each other."

"You were bothered by the battle?" asked Keith.

"Yes."

"Worried that explosions would hurt you?"

"No."

"But then why did you fling those ships into the star?"

"Afraid."

"Of what?"

"That your activities would destroy . . . destroy . . .

point that is not a point."

"The shortcut? You were afraid that we would destroy the shortcut?"

"Yes."

"No explosion could damage the shortcut. It's not fragile."

"Did not know."

Jag barked softly. "Ask him why he cares."

Keith nodded. "Why do you care about the shortcut, anyway? Do you use it yourselves?"

"Use? No. Not use."

"Then why?"

"Spawn."

"They're important to your spawning practices?"

"No, one of our spawn," said the voice from the speaker.

It was frustrating--and probably as much so for the darmat as it was for Keith. Cat's Eye was used to being part of a community whose members had been talking among themselves for millennia. They understood the context of each other's remarks, the history.

Explicating a thought in detail was not normal for themeand possibly even rude.

"One of your spawn," Keith said again, helpfully.

"Yes. Touched the point that is not a point."

Oh, my God. "You mean one of your youngsters went through the shortcut?"

"Yes. Lost."

"Christ," said Thor, turning around. "That's what activated this shortcut--a darmat baby going through!"

Keith leaned back in his chair. "And if our fighting had accidentally destroyed the shortcut, your child would never have been able to find its way home again, right?"

"Rightness abounds. When you first arrived, we thought you had come to bring our spawn home."

"You never asked us about that."

"Wrong to ask."

"Darmat bad manners," said Rissa, eyebrows raised.

Keith spread his arms. "We didn't know about your child.

How long ago did it go through the shortcut?"

"Time since you first arrived, doubled."

Keith turned to his left, looking at Jag. "The child couldn't have gone far from the exit point, then. Any way of knowing which shortcut it would have come out from?"" "Well," said Jag, "the child must have emerged through an already active exit. But, as we found when we went careening through this shortcut ourselves, there are more active exits than we were aware of--possibly trillions more, if they permeate intergalactic space and other galaxies.

And, since the shortcuts rotate, without knowing to the second what time the child went through, even duplicating the approach angle wouldn't help us. The thing could be anywhere."

"But if we could find the child and bring it safely home," said Keith,

"well, not only would that be the right thing to do, it would also help cement our relationships with the darmats." He looked around the bridge. "Anyone disagree?"

He turned the mike back on. "Does the child have a name?

A unique identifying word?"

"Yes. It is"--PHANTOM's own voice replaced the synthesized one coming through the speaker--"untranslated term."

Keith gestured at PHANTOM's eyes. "Call it--call it Junior," he said.

"Acknowledged."

Keith looked over at Rhombus, who could see Keith clearly, of course, even though his backside was to him.

"Rhombus, what do You think?"

"It could be a very steep slope that ends in a cliff," he said--a wild-goose chase. "But, as you have said, establishing friendly relationships is what Starplex is all about. I say we at least try."

"Should we ask one of them to come with us?" asked Lianne.

"There is no way we could go through the shortcut together," said Thor, turning to face her. "Remember, even the smallest of those beings masses as much as Jupiter. And without precisely controlling its entrance angle, the darmat might end up coming out of a different shortcut, meaning we'd have two lost darmats, instead of one."

Keith reactivated the mike. "We will look for your child," he said.

"Would you please call out to it? We will record that, and play it back at each possible place it might be. Call out to it, and ask it to come with us. Tell it that we will not hurt it, and that we only want to guide it home."

"Record?"

"Like an oral history; we will repeat it."

"Doing," said the voice from the speaker. Keith let the entreaties spill into PHANTOM's memory.

"We have it," said Keith, once Cat's Eye stopped transmitting.

"Find our child," said Cat's Eye. "I--words unavailable."

The translation exercises hadn't covered this topic. But Keith understood across species lines--across matter lines.

He nodded.

Keith was in his office, going over proposals for finding the darmat baby. It was the first of the month; the holo on his desk of Rissa had automatically changed to a pose of her in shorts and tank top, taken during a hike through the Grand Canyon. The Emily Carr painting had switched to an A. Y.

Jackson view of Lake Superior.

"Jag Kandaro em-Pelsh is here," announced PHANTOM.

Keith spoke without looking up from the datapad he was reading. "Let him in."

Jag entered and helped himself to a chair. He had all four arms crossed in front of his massive chest. "I want to go get the darmat child," he barked.

Keith leaned back in his chair and looked at the Waldahud.

"You?"

Jag's dental plates clicked together defiantly. "I."

Keith breathed out slowly, using the time it took to complete the exhalation to gather his thoughts. "This is a delicate mission."

"And you do not trust me anymore," said Jag. He moved his upper shoulders. "I realize that. But the attack on Starplex was not authorized by Queen Trath. And the attack on Tau Ceti that Rissa has told us about was repulsed.

Matters are at an end rightnow--unless you humans wish to prolong them.

Where do we go from here, Lansing? Is it over? Or do we go on fighting? I am prepared to act as if--"

"As if nothing had happened?"

"The alternative is war. I do not want that, and I had believed you did not want it, either."

"But--"

Jag's barks were sharp. "The choice is yours. I have volunteered a peaceful coexistence. If you want your--what is the human metaphor?--your pound of flesh, I refuse to grant it. But finding the child and getting it home will require the utmost skill in shortcut mechanics. Magnor is good at such matters, but I am better. Indeed, there is no one better in all the Commonwealth. You know this to be true;

if it were not, I would not be assigned to this ship."

"Thor is trustworthy," said Keith simply.

The Waldahud's two right eyes were already locked on Lansing, and a moment later the two left ones converged on him as well. "The choice is yours. You have my report." He gestured at the datapad Keith was still holding. "I have suggested we send a probeship to find the child. I should be on that ship."

"All you want," said Keith, "is access to the darmats for your people.

Bringing home their child would earn you much gratitude."

Jag moved his lower shoulders. "You do me a disservice, Lansing.

Indeed, the darmats do not yet know that there are a thousand entities aboard this ship, let alone that they represent a quarter-sixteen of races."

Keith thought for a moment. Damn, he hated being pushed. But the bloody pi--but Jag was right. "Okay," he said. "Okay--you and Longbottle, if he's up to it. Is the Rum Runner in any condition for another mission?"

"Dr. Cervantes and Longbottle had it serviced at Grand Central," said the Waldahud. "Rhombus has confirmed that it is spaceworthy."

Keith looked up. "Intercom: Keith to Thor."

A hologram of Thoraid Magnor's head appeared floating above Keith's desk. "Yes, boss?"

"How are we for travel through the shortcut?"

"No problems," said Thor. "The green star is far enough from it now to allow just about any entrance angle. You want me to program a run?"

Keith shook his head. "Not for the whole ship. Just for the Rum Runner and a one-person travel pod. I'm going to have to return to Grand Central for a meeting with Premier Kenyatta." He looked back at the Waldahud. "Despite what you just said, Jag, there's going to be hell to pay."

It was the ultimate grand tour: around the galaxy in twenty shortcuts--a quick survey of all the active exit points. The Rum Runner, with Jag and Longbottle aboard, zoomed away from Starplex's docks and, after Longbottle's requisite joyride, headed for the shortcut.

As always, the exit point expanded as the ship touched it.

The purple discontinuity moved from bow to stern, and then the ship was zooming through a different sector of space.

There were no spectacular sights to be seen at this first exit: just stars, somewhat less densely packed than they had been on the other side.