Going, going .
. . gone
.
The last Zardalu vanished, to cries of triumph from Rebka and the others. Nenda joined in, then realized that Holder's body was still moving toward the tunnel that led to the vortex. A couple more meters and it, too, would be rolling on its way.
"Hey!" He forced himself up from the sheltering tentacles, pushing with his legs and not worrying about arousing Holder. As his head poked free he found he was staring at the startled face of Darya Lang. She was leaning her weight against Holder's body. Birdie Kelly was by her side.
"Nenda!" she said. "You're alive."
"You've got a talent for the obvious, Professor."
"You disappeared. We felt sure they'd got you—torn you to bits, or one of them took you in whole."
"Yeah. Ass first. I just took a rest in there."
"No time to chat, Nenda." That was Hans Rebka, straining on the upper part of Holder's torso. "It's starting to come round—eyes opening. Get out here and help."
Nenda forced his way free to add his weight to the others. Everyone was there except Julius Graves and E. C. Tally. Nenda put his shoulder to the Zardalu body, standing between Atvar H'sial and Birdie Kelly. Kelly nodded at him in an embarrassed way. Nenda nodded back and put his weight into the effort to move Holder.
Four strong pushes from everyone, then Rebka was shouting: "Stand back! She's going."
Nenda had one glimpse of a bleary eye, huge and heavy-lidded, opening less than a foot from his face. Then the last Zardalu was rolling and sliding and skidding its way faster and faster toward the dark whirlpool of the vortex. Holder vanished, the great body twisting around on itself as it entered the spinning singularity.
"It is done."
That was a jubilant pheromonal comment from Atvar H'sial, straightening up. "Exactly as we planned it. And yet you appear less than content."
Nenda bent over, rubbing his sore hand at his sore legs, his sore back, sore midriff—sore
everything
. "We did all right. But I promised myself Holder's guts—personally. Didn't get the chance."
"I think perhaps you saw as much of Holder as a wise being would wish to." The Cecropian version of humor came flooding in on Nenda. Atvar H'sial was feeling extra good. "Upon consideration, we were very lucky. My respect for the Zardalu as fighting machines is considerable. If we had met them under other circumstances, when they were not disoriented by their stay in the stasis tanks and confused as to their location . . . I confess, I am happy to see the last of them. The tearing power of those tentacles is close to unbelievable."
"Tearing power! They got Tally! Where is he?"
Atvar H'sial gestured. What was left of the body of E. C. Tally was slumped against a wall, twenty meters away. Darya Lang and Hans Rebka were hurrying back along the corridor toward it. Birdie Kelly was already there.
"He's gone," Kelly said.
But Darya Lang went down on her knees, lifting Tally's shattered skull gently in her hands and saying, "Tally. Tally, can you hear me?"
The limbless torso shivered. The head nodded a millimeter, and one bruised eye slitted open to reveal a blue iris.
"I hear." The words were a whisper from purple lips. "May I speak?"
"For God's sake, yes." Darya leaned close. "But Tally, listen.
We did it.
The Zardalu have gone, all of them, down the vortex. But we can't help you. I'm sorry. We don't have medical equipment."
"I know. Don't worry.
Other
body, back on Persephone. Waiting. Few more seconds, this body done." The slitted eye opened wide, scanned. The stump of torso tried to sit up. "Darya Lang. Hans Rebka. Birdie Kelly. Last request.
Turn me off.
Understand? One week with no sensory input . . . like trillion years for human. Understand? Please.
Turn me off.
"
"I will." Birdie Kelly knelt at his side. "How?"
"Switch. Base of brain."
"I'll find it. I promise. And when you're turned back on it will be in your new body. I'll see to it myself."
A trace of a smile appeared on Tally's guileless face. The first technicians had never gotten it right. The effect was ghastly.
"Thank you. Good-bye." The battered head lifted. "It is a strange thought to me, but I will—
miss
you. Every one of you."
The body of E. C. Tally shuddered, sighed, and died. Birdie Kelly reached down into the skull cavity, lifted the brain out, and unplugged it, then knelt with face downcast. It was illogical—this was only the temporary loss of a piece of computing equipment—but . . .
I will miss you.
The humans around Tally fell into a respectful silence.
That was broken by Julius Graves, staggering toward them from higher up the corridor where Atvar H'sial had put him down and abandoned him. For the past few minutes he had been blundering blindly into walls, futilely calling out the names of the others. They had been otherwise engaged. Now he was following the sounds of their voices. And just when he seemed to be getting close, they had all stopped talking.
Louis Nenda finally went over to him. "Come on, Councilor. The baddies are gone. It's all over. You're safe to join the party."
Graves peered at him, seeing nothing. "Louis Nenda? I think I owe you an apology. We all do. You
planned
this, didn't you?"
"Not just me. Me an' At an' Lang an' Rebka. We were all in it."
"But you had the most dangerous role—you had to lure them to the trap. That story you gave the Zardalu, about leading them to a safe escape. It was all nonsense, wasn't it?"
Mention of the Zardalu made Nenda rub again at his sore back and middle. "I don't know it was
nonsense
, exactly. Main thing is, they went into the vortex an' the hell out of here. Mebbe they had a happy landing."
"And maybe?"
"Mebbe they're all frying in hell. Hope so. Hold still." Nenda reached out and lifted Graves's eyelids. He studied the misty blue eyes for a few seconds. "Don't like the look of that. I tried to warn you about the Starburst. But I daren't give too much warning, in case the Zardalu cottoned. You must have been staring straight at it when it popped. I don't think you'll get your sight back."
Graves made an impatient gesture. "That is a detail. Back on Miranda, I'll have a new pair of eyes in less than a day. Tell me
important
things. Was anyone of our party killed?"
"E. C. Tally. We've saved his brain. Nobody else is dead. We were lucky."
"Good. That simplifies things. We won't have to waste time on medical matters." Graves gripped Nenda's arm. "We must act quickly. We have an assignment of the highest priority. Since I cannot see, the rest of you must—as soon as possible—arrange a meeting for me."
Nenda stared at him in irritation. The Zardalu were gone for two minutes, and Graves became as bossy as ever.
He felt a repeat of his earlier urge to roll the councilor down the slope and into the vortex. It would make life a lot simpler. "Meeting? With who?"
"Who else?" Graves tightened his grip and started walking Nenda forward, straight at one of the tunnel walls. "Who else, but Speaker-Between?"
In the next twenty-four hours Julius Graves learned what Hans Rebka and Darya Lang had long understood: Speaker-Between had his own agenda, with its own timetable. He did not choose to appear simply because a human wished to talk to him. They had to await his convenience, and the logic of that convenience could not be predicted.
With certain exceptions, the other survivors accepted that constraint. They concentrated on food, drink, and rest, and they needed all three. But Louis Nenda, muttering that being called a
hero
by everybody was worse than being called a villain, wandered off by himself; and a blind and insomniac Graves chose to follow, prowling the interior of the artifact with J'merlia as his eyes and guide. They rapidly confirmed Darya Lang's theory that the artifact of Serenity was gigantic, equal in volume and living space to the biospheres of a dozen worlds; but only a tiny fraction of that could be attained, unless the traveler learned Speaker-Between's knack of gliding through walls and floors.
Graves lacked that ability. As the hours wore on his agitation grew. He finally came back to the main chamber and joined the others, still restless.
"What's the big deal?" Birdie Kelly asked. He had become Graves's confidant, as well as the official custodian of E. C. Tally's brain, which he carried with the distracted air of a man holding an unexploded bomb. "Tally isn't suffering. Actually, he's not doing anything at all. Must be nice to be able to switch yourself off when things get nasty." Birdie became aware of Graves's sightless glare. "Anyway, with the Zardalu gone, this place is safe enough. Come on, Councilor. Lighten up."
"I'm not worrying about
Tally
. And I'm not worrying about
us
." Graves flopped moodily down by one of the big Zardalu stasis tanks. "I'm worried about
these
." He rapped the side of the tank. "And what was in them."
"The Zardalu? They're all dead."
"Are they? Can you prove that to me?" Graves closed his blind eyes and slumped there breathing through his mouth. As usual when he spoke to Birdie, all his questions seemed to be rhetorical.
"I know they went down the vortex," he continued, just when Kelly wondered if the councilor was falling asleep. "But who is to say that they are dead? Professor Lang is sure that the vortex is part of a
transportation system
. She says that Speaker-Between confirmed that, or at least didn't deny it. Transportation systems are not designed to kill their passengers. Suppose that the Zardalu were transported
safely
—and have finished up somewhere in the spiral arm?"
"Suppose they were?" Birdie sniffed. "Big deal! They've been gone for God knows how long, eleven thousand years or something like that, and there's only a few of them left. I'm not afraid of the Zardalu." Not when they're all dead, or thirty thousand light-years away, he added to himself. "I can't see 'em doing much damage in a couple of days."
"That's not what I'm worried about!" Graves's tone provided the "you idiot," though he did not say the words. "I'm worried about
tracing
them. If this vortex is anything like a Bose Network Transition Point, the transition trail decays exponentially with time. Today we may be able to say just where they went. Tomorrow it becomes a bit more difficult. A week from now it's a major task, and in a month it's impossible no matter what technology you have available. The Zardalu could be tucked away where no one can find them. What do you say to
that
?"
Birdie was saved from saying anything by the return of Louis Nenda. That reluctant hero nodded coldly at Graves and Kelly and went over to the food-supply cabinets. He had a second satchel slung at his side, far bigger than his usual black one. He had made it, and a crude jacket, from webbing left behind by the Zardalu. He was packing the satchel and the jacket pockets with enough food for a week.
"Wish we had a way to
heat
this," he grunted. "Cold food is lousy." He turned to Graves. "Your buddy's back, you know. Over in the next room but one."
"Buddy?"
"Old moan-'n'-groan. Speaker-Between."
Graves was on his feet at once. "What is he doing there?" But he did not wait for an answer. He was blundering out of the chamber, shouting to Lang and Rebka, who were deep in private conversation. "Professor! Captain! He is here. Now is our chance."
"Chance for what?" Hans Rebka had been busy telling age-old lies to Darya Lang, with her thorough approval. But again Graves did not wait for an answer. He allowed Nenda to lead him through the nearest chambers, while the rest of the group followed at their own pace.
Nenda's statement had been partly true. The Builder construct was
half
-visible, just the tail and lower part of the silver body. The upper part was presumably there, but it was hidden by the ceiling of the room, fifteen meters above their heads.
Graves listened to Nenda's description in total frustration. "But if he's stuck up there, how the devil am I supposed to—"
"Easy." Nenda nodded to Kallik, who had entered with Atvar H'sial and J'merlia. "Go get 'em."
The Hymenopt crouched on seven limbs—the lost eighth was regrowing fast, and nearly a foot long—and sprang straight up. She grabbed and swung on Speaker-Between's barbed tail. After a few seconds, they both began to descend.
"The Zardalu are gone." Graves started to speak even before Speaker-Between's flower-petal head was fully in view. "But it is of paramount importance that we follow them—at once!"
"If you would kindly release my tail . . ." The silver pentagon turned slowly to face Graves. "Your request cannot be fulfilled. The Zardalu indeed are gone. I therefore judge that they are losers. You were able to defeat and banish them. But the evaluation is not yet over. Is it necessary to remind you that there can be only one species judged fit to work with the Builders? I would be derelict in my own duties should I halt this evaluation before it is complete."
"You do not understand. Can you guarantee that the Zardalu were all killed when they entered the vortex?"
"One moment." Speaker-Between coalesced to a sphere, then just as rapidly rippled back to form the horned and tailed chimera. "That question is not easy to answer," he said when he was fully reconstructed. "The Zardalu suffered an unstructured transition. It is not one that is highly forbidden, and therefore it is not inevitably fatal. The Zardalu
could
have survived it. They
may
be alive. They
may
be all dead. What is the relevance of the question?"
"To you, perhaps very little. To us, and to all intelligences of the spiral arm, it is very great. If there is a chance that the Zardalu survive, it is imperative that we return to alert our fellows."
"Imperative to whom? It is not imperative to me, or to my masters." Speaker-Between floated toward Julius Graves, settling close enough for the councilor to reach out and touch him. "You do not appear to understand. There is no technical difficulty in returning you to your homes, or to any location in the spiral arm or out of it; and it may be possible to determine where the Zardalu went, though that is less sure. But those issues are academic. I say again,
the selection procedure is not complete
. There remain both humans and Cecropians. Until only one remains, it is not permitted for you to leave."