As L'Kell's sub descended back through the depths, the light dwindled and finally faded altogether. Bandicut and his companions were quiet, but L'Kell was quietest of all. Perhaps he was worrying about S'Cali and Jontil, who had stopped at the salvage site to contact the Neri still inside—this time with Astari cooperation. But Bandicut guessed that L'Kell was mostly trying to absorb the connection he had made with Morado before their departure. The two had talked briefly but intensely, their stones flickering and flaring, just before the Neri and his companions had climbed into the sub.
L'Kell muttered something that Bandicut didn't quite catch, and he had to ask the Neri to repeat it. "I said I'd like for our cities to rise into the sun again one day," L'Kell said, adjusting the exterior lights.
"Eh?" said Bandicut.
L'Kell suddenly looked at him as if they were having a casual, late-night conversation under one of the big domes. Maybe, with all that was weighing on him, he needed casual conversation. "Parts of our cities used to rise and fall, you know, on long anchor tethers, moving much closer to the surface than they do now. Our people used to see the sunlight now and again, and weren't so shy of the surface. We also benefited from much larger populations of fishes around us."
"Was this in the recent past? What happened?"
"No, it was before my time. Our people grew wary of the landers—wary and frightened, I think—even before there was conflict." L'Kell looked slightly embarrassed; his eyes shifted back and forth from Bandicut to the seascape gliding beneath the sub. "We began to work harder to hide ourselves, to be unknown to the landers. The Astari, I mean. I think we felt more protected, hunkered close to the seafloor—and I suppose closer to the factory."
"Even with the factory not working?"
L'Kell did not answer at once. When he finally did, he seemed to change the subject. "You know, we Neri are a part of the sea, and the sea a part of us. Not just in life. When we die, our spirits return to the sea—are rejoined to it, and become a part of it forever." He paused, adjusting the sub's course. "It has seemed to me that the greater our danger and desperation, the more we want to be not just in the sea, but with the sea. In some strange way, I think, the deeper we have moved our cities, the more closely connected we have felt with our—" Krrrlll. The stones seemed to have trouble, and he tried rephrasing. Khhresst. "With our God," Bandicut heard finally. "Factory or no. This was before the factory had finally failed, but it doesn't really matter. We might be in greater danger now, with all that threatens us, but we are closer to something we long for and need." He turned his dark gaze toward Bandicut. "I do not claim that any of this is completely logical."
Bandicut nodded without answering. He wasn't about to criticize the Neri. But it did seem a terrible shame that in seeking safety in the depths, or even some mystical connection, they had cut themselves off from the world of sunlight. Then again, of course, if the undersea cities had been detectable by the Astari diving forces . . .
The threat of the Maw was bad enough, he supposed.
The rumblings from below had subsided again, but L'Kell had been unable to establish contact with the city. In the absence of information, they were trying not to speculate too much on what that might mean. It was possible that the comm failure was simply due to acoustic interference from the Maw's muttering stomach.
"On your world," L'Kell said, breaking Bandicut's reverie, "where do your spirits go when you die?"
Bandicut grunted, taken by surprise. "Well, I—don't really know. I don't know if they go anywhere. There are lots of . . .beliefs . . .among my people. About God, and Heaven, and so on. They vary pretty widely."
"Yes? And your own beliefs?"
"Well, I . . .never really decided which I thought was right," he confessed, suddenly embarrassed by such indecision, or ignorance.
/// I have wondered myself
why you seemed so unsure. ///
/Why?/ Bandicut asked in surprise. /Do you know the answer?/
/// Not in the sense you mean.
I of course believe in
the immortality of the spirit.
But I suspect that holds a somewhat
different meaning for me. ///
Bandicut frowned. /Yes, I suppose it might./
"Well," said Li-Jared from farther back in the cockpit, "we know where our spirits go. We see it in the sky every night, at home."
"Yes?" asked L'Kell.
"We call our world Home with Green, Beautiful, Perilous Sky—among other names. It is not like your night sky, L'Kell. It is filled with highly energetic, nearby stars and gas clouds. It is indeed perilous, and beautiful."
Bandicut looked back at him. "And?"
"It is the belief of most Karellians that our spirits ascend into certain of the clouds or energy pathways that coil through the sky of Karellia. Some of those energetic clouds contain extremely complex holographic patterns." Li-Jared made a soft, thoughtful, gonging sound and added, "The Astari are not too different in their beliefs. I spoke with Harding on our journey to the surface."
"What did Harding say?" Antares asked. She was hunkered in the back of the compartment with Li-Jared.
"Well," said the Karellian, "the Astari know they came here from the stars. That they are exiles here. Many of them are certain that their spirits return to the stars at the end of life. Harding believed this, also."
Bandicut thought of Harding's death, and wished that they could have found a way to pay greater respects. But would it have made any difference to Harding? Was his spirit now floating among the stars somewhere, exploring the galaxy? Or riding the great wheel of existence, waiting to step off on the next plane? Or awaiting his entry through the gates of Heaven?
/// An interesting question. ///
/Interesting, yes. But I haven't a clue to the answer./
/// Or rather, you have many clues.
You just haven't figured out
how to read them. ///
/Maybe that's it./
"They return to the stars as we return to the sea," said L'Kell, and he somehow seemed satisfied with that notion. He reached to try the comm again.
This time he got an answer, scratchy and indistinct. Bandicut couldn't understand a word of it, and neither could L'Kell. But someone was still down there, transmitting. L'Kell tried again. This time he got no answer at all.
* * *
They finally got a signal, abruptly clearer, just as the lights of the undersea city were beginning to appear out of the night-gloom of the depths. " . . .Send Tandu and the other sub to the nursery complex . . .need tools and patching equipment . . ." And then it faded, just as abruptly, to a hiss.
L'Kell focused intently on his piloting. "That wasn't for us," he said, but there was satisfaction in his voice. "It was local communications, scattered through the water. The sound-carrying channels must be scrambled by the turbulence and aftershocks."
Soon they were in sight of the outer habitats. They were relieved to find that the city was still there. Even so, Bandicut was shocked by the sight of several habitat bubbles partially broken from their moorings—swinging alarmingly, or jammed up hard against other habitats. L'Kell finally got through on the comm and was asked to make best speed to the main hangar. No time to make a survey sweep of the damage.
As they surfaced in the hangar pool, Bandicut had the feeling that they had returned to a city that had just survived a typhoon.
* * *
"No contact at all from the factory?" Bandicut asked Ik. He looked around at Neri hurrying about on various missions of damage control. Their resources were strained, and everyone in the city was hard at work.
Ik, who had met them at the first level above the hangar, rubbed his chest with his fingertips. "We received a single transmission from Nabeck, saying that there was a lot of bottom instability. Then the transmission was lost—not cut off sharply, but gradually blocked, perhaps by interference."
"That's encouraging, then."
"Yes. But we also heard from Kailan and Elbeth that they had picked up signs of crustal movement close to the factory— which is not." When Bandicut winced, Ik tipped his sculpted blue-white head. "But they weren't sure enough of their readings to know how bad it really was."
Antares spoke up. "Is there any way to find out, short of going down there?"
"I don't think so. Unless they transmit, somehow."
Bandicut saw L'Kell returning from a quick trip to report to Askelanda. "What did he say?" Then Bandicut saw the Neri behind L'Kell, and he drew a sharp breath. "Lako, is that you?"
L'Kell stepped out of the way to let the second Neri move in front. "I am feeling much better now," said Lako, bowing his head slightly before Bandicut. "I have come to offer whatever help I can." As he raised his head, Bandicut could see some scarring on Lako's face where the blisters had healed. Lako's eyes looked clear, and while he seemed to be moving with some difficulty, it was a miracle that he was moving at all. "And to say thank you," Lako added.
"You're welcome. You're our first success story."
"But not," said Lako, "your last. When you have time, I know Corono would like you to come visit the ward—to see how many are recovering. Ik has been continuing your work, in your absence."
"I would love to," Bandicut said.
"Askelanda will want to talk with you first, I think," said L'Kell. "He was pleased to hear that we were back. But damage to the city is barely under control right now; he can't even spare a sub immediately for the factory. But as soon as he can, he'll approve a scouting and rescue expedition." L'Kell paused, taking note of Bandicut's troubled expression. "We're all worried, John. Let's just hope your robots and our people and our subs are okay. We can't afford to lose any of them."
Bandicut nodded agreement. And from Antares, he sensed, Patience. Have patience, and faith. And he knew that she was just as worried as he was.
"John, we just heard from S'Cali," Ik said. "He's on his way back here, but there are still Neri needing help inside the shipwreck. And also injured Astari. I believe that's a place where I might be of help."
Li-Jared spoke for the first time, bonging softly. "You want to return to the starship?"
Ik's black eyes gleamed with inner light. "S'Cali is going to go back with the cargo sub, to load whatever materials the Astari can provide, as well as the remaining injured. I would like to assist him. By the time we return, perhaps you will have your answers about the factory, and how to make contact with the Maw. And with luck, we will have the materials you need." Ik cocked his head. "Lako intends to go, too."
Bandicut was startled.
"To help the Neri and the Astari," said Lako.
Bandicut saw L'Kell's silent approval, and thought, Lako might make a fine good-will ambassador, as one sorely hurt who now wished to help build bridges. Bandicut knew it made sense to divide up their energy and resources; and yet, something made him wish that he could keep his company together right now. He had a feeling that that could be important, in the near future. But he could hardly object to the plan. "Be careful," he said.
"Indeed," Ik murmured. "But come. Let's not keep Askelanda waiting."
* * *
Askelanda listened intently as they described their meeting with Morado. He seemed genuinely saddened to hear of Harding's death. But he responded with surprising grace to the agreement with Morado: the Astari would help the Neri gather materials needed by the factory, but the Neri would otherwise refrain from further salvage efforts on the ship. "Fair enough, if they are true to their word," Askelanda said. Apparently some of Harding's peacemaking efforts had had their effect on the Neri ahktah.
Their discussion was interrupted at that point by word that a sub had returned from the factory—not the sub carrying Nabeck and the robots, but the one that had been stationed to assist them. The sub's young pilot, Gilleum, was brought in to give his report. He was so nervous and exhausted that he had to repeat himself several times before everyone understood.
" . . .yes, that's right. The ledge over Nabeck's sub just seemed to crumble when the quake hit. I backed away, but Nabeck couldn't. We were able to stay in voice contact for a while, and he seemed okay. But then when the silt cleared—" Gilleum looked around in apparent confusion.
"The sub was just gone?" L'Kell asked. "Or buried?"
"Buried, I thought at first. Except that there wasn't really that much debris piled up. And a lot of it had fallen away from the spot, not onto it. The only thing we could guess was that Nabeck's sub had gotten swallowed up by the factory. But that seemed crazy."
"But you still had voice contact?" Askelanda repeated.
"Just for a few seconds. It was very scratchy and hard to understand. He said he was all right, but blind. I thought he said his lights worked, but he couldn't see anything. Or say what had happened. But I thought he said, 'There's no seawater outside the sub. There's a yellow fluid.'" Gilleum raised his hands in bewilderment.
Bandicut looked at L'Kell. "Is that possible? Could he have been taken into the factory itself? You've got all of these amazing membranes—"
"I have never seen it happen," said L'Kell. "But the factory certainly had docking ports, and various ways of loading cargo submarines, when it was functioning."
"But did it take subs right inside?"
L'Kell looked at Askelanda, who said, "Long ago, I believe it did. But in my lifetime, it has only allowed subs to dock with it." Askelanda spread his finger webs in uncertainty. "It may be that the obliq has information on this."
"So really we need to go down and see, yes?" Bandicut looked at L'Kell, thinking of the unspoken part of the question: if Nabeck and the robots weren't inside the factory, then they must have been swept over the ledge and into the abyss.
Askelanda conferred with L'Kell. "The subs are all being recharged. When one is ready, we'll go."
Bandicut sighed with impatience, despite his own bone-weariness. "How long can Nabeck last, if he's really trapped in the factory? Don't your subs extract their air from the water?"
"Yes, of course," L'Kell said. "But—oh, I see. If the sub is no longer in water, he'll be on reserve air . . ."
The elder Neri said, "He's alone, so he can last awhile. Maybe two days, maybe three. But it is no good going before the sub is ready. Or you are ready. Now, you must rest while you can. We will get you when it is time . . ."
* * *
Bandicut tried to sleep, but couldn't get over a feeling of cold and loneliness. His friends were all elsewhere, planning their next activities. Antares and Li-Jared would be going to help Kailan. Ik would be leaving shortly with S'Cali; the Neri had reported that many of those still in the sunken ship needed help, and soon.
Bandicut tossed and turned under the Neri blankets, even after Char tried to help him relax. After a while, Li-Jared came in and sat in a corner of the room, staring silently into the night of the sea. He seemed troubled, and didn't engage Bandicut in conversation; but his presence was like a storm cloud, silent and brooding. A little later, Antares came in, carrying her blankets from the room where she had slept previously. She spoke softly for a moment to Li-Jared, then spread her blankets out near Bandicut and lay down.
He looked at her questioningly. "He's thinking about Harding," Antares murmured. Bandicut nodded, and after a minute closed his eyes, blanket pulled around his neck.
This time he went to sleep almost instantly.
* * *
When he awoke, it was to the sound of urgent conversation. He focused on the sounds before he opened his eyes. It was Antares and L'Kell—Antares telling the Neri that she could feel that Bandicut needed more sleep. "Is it urgent enough to wake him? I know it's important, but will it make any difference if he learns just a little later?"
"'S okay," Bandicut mumbled, rolling over. "What is it?"
"Contact from your robots!" L'Kell cried, his voice rasping with excitement. "A recorded message."
"What? Where? How?"
"On the comm. Askelanda sent a scout-sub down, and they're picking up transmissions and relaying them. Do you want to hear what they're saying?"
"What do you think?" Bandicut got to his feet with a groan. Antares had been right; he definitely needed more sleep. He realized that she felt chagrined for trying to stop L'Kell, and he reached out to touch her arm. "Thank you, really. You were right. But I wouldn't miss this for anything."
As the three walked together to the communications room, he asked, "Why'd Askelanda send someone else?"
L'Kell looked at him as if he'd asked a stupid question. "You were sleeping quite soundly, my friend. As Askelanda pointed out, there are many here who are capable of undertaking a deep-water search, and summoning you if they found anything." L'Kell paused as Antares made a sound of a hissing chuckle. "He sent Targus and two others."
"And have they found the robots and Nabeck?"
L'Kell's breathing slits flared in excitement. "Not precisely, but they've located the area. Somehow the robots are getting their signal out from below the seafloor. Here's the comm room." They crowded in, and the Neri at the panel made the necessary connections to play the recording. The room was filled with a hiss of watery static . . .and then a robot's voice, in halting Neri:
"This is Copernicus. We are unharmed, and inside the factory space. Nabeck reports he is well, and finds sufficient oxygen in the fluid surrounding the submersible to maintain his breathing needs. He estimates power will last four more days at his present low rate of use, with reserve for return. Napoleon is presently in contact with the factory head, and is attempting to restart production of nano-assemblers and self-repair devices. Initial restart should be possible with materials on hand. However, the previously requested materials are needed as soon as possible. They need not be refined. Refining can be accomplished here, once self-repair is underway . . ."
The Neri operator cut off the playback. "Something new is coming in on the relay."
It was a Neri voice. "This is Nabeck. I hope you can hear me. I am well, and hopeful that the robots will arrange a way for us to leave the factory when they are done. It is very strange in here. We appear to be inside a large, flexible chamber. Ambient pressure is normal for this depth. I do not know the nature of the fluid surrounding us, but it is a clear fluid, with occasional swirls of a milky liquid. The robots believe that it is a transport medium for the invisible assemblers that make the factory work. I hope it is not harming the hull of the sub."
Nabeck's voice stopped, and Copernicus's came on again, in English. "We do not know if you are receiving this signal, which we are broadcasting acoustically through the wall of the factory. If you can hear us, you may be able to reply by inserting a probe through the outer membrane where we originally made contact. We will continue to broadcast at intervals, to assist you in locating the spot. We do not know present conditions outside the factory. During the last seismic disturbance, we moved approximately ten meters forward, drawn by a mechanism from inside the factory. We have had no further information from the outside.
"A special note. The factory head's core programming contains numerous operating limitations. Certain of these might prevent it from performing nonspecified or abnormal activities, such as contacting the mechanism of the abyss. This core programming is isolated and protected, and cannot be altered by Napoleon. He is still examining this problem; however, it appears that direct interface with a responsible authority may be required to override the factory head's limitations. Nabeck is unaware of any Neri trained in direct interface methods. However, John Bandicut is so trained. You may wish to consider this question.
"If anyone is receiving this message, please respond . . ."
The message began again, this time in the Neri tongue.
The Neri turned down the volume slightly. "That will probably repeat several times. When the robot pauses, we can transmit back to Targus in the sub. Would you like to send a reply?"
"Tell Targus, 'Message received,'" said L'Kell. "Ask if they've located the entry point, and if they have attempted to establish two-way contact." L'Kell looked at Bandicut and Antares. "Anything you want to add?"
"Yes," said Bandicut. "As soon as you can get a message through to the robots, tell them, 'Well done, be careful, and come back out soon.'"
"Amen," said Antares.
L'Kell led them in search of Askelanda. The Neri leader was in an upper room pacing in conference with several others. When he saw L'Kell and his friends, he motioned to them to join in. L'Kell told Askelanda about the most recent message from Copernicus. "You have heard this transmission from your robots?" Askelanda asked Bandicut.
"Yes."
Askelanda peered at him with eyes that seemed dusty with age, and yet sharp. "And are you capable of making a 'direct connection' with the factory head, such as your robot spoke of?"
Bandicut felt a flashback welling up in him, taking him back to Triton, to the time when he'd just lost his neurolink ability, to the time of silence-fugues, to the time when a new individual in his life, the quarx, had made it possible to regain those kinds of connections. He reeled with the memory, and realized that Char was watching intently, learning, understanding.
/// So you can do this, yes? ///
/I can if you reach out and make the connection. You're my neurolink pathway./
/// That's no problem. ///
/And of course, if the factory head's language is even remotely comprehensible to me. I'll have to count on the stones, and maybe the robots, to sort that out./
"John?" L'Kell asked.
He blinked. "Yes. Yes, I might be able to make that connection—at least in principle. But—" he hesitated "—how the hell are you going to put me physically in contact with the thing? Do you have any ideas about that?"
L'Kell and Askelanda looked at each other.
"Don't even think about asking me to go out in the water at that depth. It would kill me."
"I expect it would," Askelanda rasped dryly. "It's not so healthy for us, either. We can do it, at need, but there are better ways to die."
Bandicut shivered.
"Could you use a cable connection similar to the one the robots used?" asked L'Kell.
Bandicut thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, we don't have the interface."
/// Say, why couldn't you—? ///
Bandicut blinked, suddenly anticipating what the quarx was about to say. /Yes, of course! It might—/ He opened his mouth to speak, then thought, /But I don't even know how the damn thing works. Submarines, at least, I understand./ Nevertheless, he swallowed and said, "Our star-spanner bubble. I wonder if it might serve . . ."
L'Kell hissed. "The robots were well protected when we found them trapped down there in it. But how would that permit you to make contact?"
Bandicut described the way he and his companions had been able to stretch through the star-spanner bubble's membrane as though it were a rubber sheet. That had been in water much shallower than the depth of the factory, but perhaps it wasn't depth-dependent.
/// The stones think it might work.
It's worth a try, anyway. ///
The Neri listened to his description without comment. They were accustomed to membranes that did things Bandicut regarded as miraculous. Askelanda finally said, "I will ask, then, that you prepare to try this, when the time comes."
"When the time comes?"
"At the moment, it seems that your robots are doing all that can be done. It is best that you wait here until we receive word that the factory requires your presence."
"But—" Bandicut began, thinking how badly he wanted to get back down there and make contact, and put his hands on his robots. But he knew Askelanda was right.
Askelanda seemed to sense his thoughts. "John Bandicut, we have already asked more of you than any stranger—or visitor— should be asked to give. This might be our most dangerous request yet."
Bandicut frowned. "I guess we're not strangers anymore, are we? But it is absolutely necessary that this be done, yes?"
"Oh, yes," said Askelanda. "Without the factory—with the Maw threatening to destroy us, and I suppose the Astari too—who knows what would become of us?" Askelanda blinked his great, dusty eyes and readjusted his stole. "But John Bandicut, I must ask this: Why do these things matter to you? Why do you risk your life for us?" Askelanda cocked his head, gazing at him.
Bandicut's mouth opened, and froze. He struggled to find words.
"I've wondered, too," L'Kell said. "I have been happy to accept your actions, and your friendship, but—" The Neri's voice faltered, and his gaze seemed to furrow inward, as though he were listening to his own stones. Were they starting to give L'Kell hints of their purpose? Would they be any clearer with him than Bandicut's had been?
Bandicut let his breath out slowly. "I can't tell you, exactly," he said at last. "All I can say is, I guess when I find myself in a situation when I can do something to help—"
/// Or in a situation when you have to help— ///
/Yes./ He cleared his throat. "I—well, I try to."
"And," said L'Kell, eyes refocusing, "you are put by your stones . . .in the position of having to do these things, aren't you?"
Bandicut nodded uncomfortably. "But Askelanda—remember, too, I might be spending the rest of my life here under this sea with you." He swallowed hard. "I'm not acting completely selflessly. Even if you weren't my friends, I'd have reason to want your people to survive."
Askelanda gazed at him for a moment without speaking. Finally he cupped his hand-webs in a gesture of approval. "Then you'll abide by my wishes, and rest here and prepare properly? I do not want to lose you in vain—by sending you off too soon, or too tired to do what you have to do."
Bandicut drew a breath. "Yes." And he let the breath out, and wondered how in the world he could stand the wait.
Copernicus . . .Napoleon . . .
Julie Stone checked her suit monitors one last time, and stepped cautiously around the barricades that blocked off the inner cavern. The ice floor gleamed in her suit headlight. Ahead of her, the translator squirmed and twisted in its own faint radiance. "All systems normal," she murmured into her helmet comm.
"Telemetry looks good," said Georgia Patwell. Julie's friend's voice could have been coming from light-years away, or inches. She was stationed across the cavern floor, monitoring remote sensors and comm, ready to send in assistance if necessary. Realistically, of course, if the translator did anything that would require her to need help, what were any of them going to be able to do?
"Mass readings are unchanged," Julie reported. "I feel nothing unusual."
"No? Then why the hell is your heart pounding so loud I can hear it without the comm?"
Julie chuckled. "Just trying to keep you folks interested, is all."
The translator was a stark shape against the blue-white frozen nitrogen walls of the cavern. Its black and iridescent globes spun ceaselessly, like turbulent soap bubbles clustered together in the shape of a large top, passing through one another in endless motion, the whole array balanced upon a single black globe. Julie wondered if it had ever tipped over, and what would happen if it did.
Why had the translator ignored all efforts at communication by the exoarch and technology transfer teams? And why had it resisted being moved? One month and twenty million dollars worth of ruined equipment later, Julie Stone had been sent to find out.
So far it was showing no sign of noticing her presence.
"Okay, Jul'—Kim says you're cleared to approach the translator." Georgia's voice was calm but dead serious.
Making a conscious effort to breathe slowly and evenly, Julie stepped closer to the translator, until she could almost have reached out and touched the thing. She began to raise a hand but stopped, fearful. She knew what had happened to all those pieces of equipment, melted and vaporized. She stood gazing at the translator, thinking, Who are you really, and what are you doing here? Then she felt it tingling at the edges of her mind. Hello? she thought. Are you there?
*We are here.*
Startled, she cleared her throat, trying to quell a tremble that was beginning somewhere in the middle of her spine, and radiating outward. You are here. Where? In my head?
*Please focus your thoughts.*
Focus my thoughts? Julie hesitated, trying to decide what that meant. Then she recalled a neurolink technique that John had described to her once, and she frowned, trying to produce the kind of inward direction of her thoughts that people used in the neuro. /Is this what you mean?/ she asked silently.
*Better.*
She waited, wondering if the translator would say more.
Instead, it silently reached into her mind and began to blow her thoughts around, like a rising autumn wind stirring up dry leaves. Within moments, her mind was filled with a whirlwind of activity. She froze in place, bewildered, as the wind grew to a cyclone. She felt no pain. She teetered, but did not lose her balance, or consciousness. /What are you doing?/ she whispered. And it answered:
*Preparing.*
She blinked. /Yes . . . but preparing what?/
*Preparing to give you . . . the tools that you will need.*
And then her consciousness did flicker, just for an instant, as if she'd nodded off and caught herself. And when she blinked back from it, she had the oddest sense that an array of glittering points of light had danced around her in the ghostly cavern, speaking to her, and then had vanished before she could ask them who or what they were.
* * *
"Jul', are you okay? Talk to me, hon'." Georgia was calling insistently—not in a panicky or distraught way, but over and over so as to get her attention.
"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured, stepping back a little from the translator. Wait a minute—wasn't she supposed to be approaching the thing? What had just happened here?
"What are you doing now, Julie? Tell us what you saw. Did you hear anything? Talk to me, Julie, talk to me."
"Uh, yeah. I . . .sensed it. I felt its presence. I know it was aware of me." She felt as if she had dozed off there for a second. That seemed impossible, with the adrenaline she had rushing through her veins.
"What, exactly, did you sense, Julie? Are you stepping away from it now? Keep talking. Don't drift out on me."
"What do you mean?" She shook her head. Something was happening in her mind; she couldn't quite tell what.
"Your heart-rate spiked, then took a big drop for a couple of seconds. Now it's climbing again. Did you lose consciousness?"
"I'm . . .not sure."
"Well, I think you did. And I think maybe you should come on out," Georgia said, her voice tinged with worry. "And I think you should tell me everything you remember, and everything that even crosses your mind, before you lose it."
"Okay."
"What happened when you first sensed it?"
Julie blinked hard. Looking at the translator she felt that there was some kind of impenetrable barrier between her and it now. It didn't want her to approach.
*Take time for acclimation,* said a voice, soft but deep in her mind.
"Okay," she murmured, half to the voice and half to Georgia. "It spoke. But it's not as if I understand exactly . . ." Her voice faltered. There was still a voice in her head. She thought she had broken contact with the translator. John had spoken in his letter of an alien intelligence that had somehow come to reside with him, in his mind. Was this one of those?
*We are not the quarx. There is only one quarx, and it lives with John.*
Lives with John? She blinked, wondering if she had heard that right. Lives? She shook her head. /If you are not a . . .quarx, then who are you? If you are not the translator . . ./
*We are the daughter-stones. We are of the translator.*
/Daughter-stones?/ She shook her head, peering out through her suit helmet at all the lights glaring off the translucent cavern walls, glaring in her eyes. Was she imagining all this? She felt a sudden slight sting, like an electrical tingle, in both of her wrists. She raised her gloved hands—and her arms, encased in the tough, insulated fabric of the pressure suit. For an instant, she had the illusion that she could look right through her suited arms and see her bare wrists—and what she saw, embedded in each wrist, was a pulsing bead of light. Daughter-stones . . .
The voice spoke again, as she drew a frightened breath.
*There is no need to fear us. There is much that we must tell you.*
/Tell me—?/
"Julie?" called Georgia. "Julie, keep talking, girl. Kim, I think you'd better get in there right away—"
*You must decide for yourself whether to trust us. But we have a journey to take together. And the first place we must travel is to your homeworld . . .*