The robots were trying to report to Bandicut when a conflicting transmission came through from another source. L'Kell rasped something in reply, drowning out the robots' efforts altogether.
Bandicut waited until he thought the channel was clear, then called, "Say again, Nappy! You have a link with what subsection?"
The robot's voice was a partially garbled hiss. "Operational records, Cap . . .block in which malfunctions . . .think we know why . . ." At that point, Napoleon's voice became inaudible again.
"We have something new coming in—sorry," said L'Kell, and called for everyone to be silent.
This time, the incoming message was clearer, though still scratchy. " . . .under attack. Salvage party trapped inside, many sick with poisoning . . .swimmers have gone to their aid . . .one sub, one of the visitors . . .may not be enough."
"Do they need our help?" L'Kell called back, with a sharp glance at Bandicut. Most of the available subs were either here on this expedition or tied up on jobs such as repairing damage to the Neri city.
L'Kell's glance lingered, and Bandicut suddenly realized what the Neri was thinking. He wasn't asking whether more subs were needed; he was asking whether the stricken Neri workers needed John Bandicut to come heal them. /Oh, no. I think we're about to be pulled out of here . . ./
/// Whatever we need to do, ///
Char said calmly.
Perhaps Char didn't understand how hard that would be for him. After committing so much energy and will power to this mission, he wanted to see it through to the end.
/// You don't want to leave Napoleon and Copernicus. ///
A statement, not a question.
/No./ He took a breath and said to L'Kell, "I'll help, wherever you need me."
The Neri grunted in satisfaction and muttered something back into the comm. Then he gestured outside. "They haven't asked for us yet. So let's find out what your friends were trying to say."
Bandicut called, "Can you try giving me that update again, Nappy?"
After a certain amount of static, Copernicus reported, "Cap'n, the good news is that most of the internal circuitry appears to be in working order. However, the programming is not. Napoleon is trying to diagnose a faulty code module that appears to be recycling through the main processor."
"That's fast work."
"Well, Captain, the central program apparently attempted to compensate for an operational self-repair problem—a mechanical breakdown, perhaps caused by seismic impact, combined with an unexpected materials shortage. The compensation failed, and errors became compounded. Once self-repair failed, there was no way to recover without outside intervention. But there was no such intervention."
"And now?"
"We have hopes for a restart."
Bandicut thought of the healing of the Neri and decided that nothing was impossible. "Will you need help from us?"
"Unknown at this time."
"Any idea how long it might take?"
"Unknown, Cap'n."
Bandicut asked L'Kell, "Did you follow that?"
"Some." The Neri adjusted an outside light, which was shining along the flank of the robots' sub. All they could see was the blunt form of the sub with its nose stuck under the overhang, its forward probes buried in a juncture membrane. The robots, presumably, were motionless inside the sub; everything they were doing was invisible, electronic signals sent into the heart of the factory. "You probably should ask," said L'Kell, "if they could carry on without you, if they have to."
Bandicut stared into the green and yellow and grey world carved out by the headlight. "Better find out if Nabeck and the robots can understand each other, first."
"Yah," said the Neri.
* * *
The next communication from the city indicated that matters were worsening at the salvage site, but stopped short of asking them to pull up and go. L'Kell looked troubled, though. The darkness around them was shivering with occasional faint flashes of light from the direction of the abyssal valley, like heat lightning before a storm. It made Bandicut nervous.
He keyed the comm. "Copernicus—"
"Yes, Cap'n." The robot's voice sounded distracted. Napoleon remained occupied in the subsystems, with Copernicus trying to understand what was happening. Bandicut imagined Copernicus standing by with a tool chest, reaching for the appropriate wrenches as Napoleon asked for them.
"I need you to make a judgment. L'Kell and I may be needed elsewhere. But this repair is every bit as important as what we might be doing. Do you think you can carry on without me?"
"Cap'n—it is difficult to know."
"Do you mean because of you and Nabeck?"
"Well, we can communicate with Nabeck—" Meaning, with effort, they could make themselves understood. "So that's—" Copernicus was interrupted by a piercing tone in the comm.
"Coppy? What was that?"
There were some confused electronic noises. Finally Copernicus said, "That was the factory control, trying to broadcast a message."
"Trying to broadcast? Then it really is awakening?"
"Hold a moment. Napoleon thinks it was just a subsystem reflex. Possibly in response to our activities—but we haven't been able to decipher it yet."
"Oh." Bandicut let out a slow breath. "Does that change your assessment?"
"Negative," said Copernicus. "Captain, we suspect that the factory may indeed have initiative, but not necessarily consciousness. We'll just have to wait and see."
Bandicut blinked in surprise. "If it does turn out to be conscious, do you think you can handle the situation?"
Copernicus did not speak for a moment. Then he said, "Remember the shadow-people." The noncorporeal, fractal-dimensional beings who were in charge of systems maintenance back on Shipworld: Copernicus had spent considerable time in communication with them, and had done just fine without Bandicut's help.
"Ah. Yes. Of course." Bandicut looked at L'Kell. "I think . . .if we have to go, the robots can manage by themselves."
"Are you certain?" said L'Kell.
Bandicut shivered. Hell, no, he wasn't certain.
/// If you're not, then shouldn't you— ///
"Yeah," Bandicut said to L'Kell.
/// Never mind. ///
"In that case," said L'Kell, "I think our friends above could use some help right now."
Bandicut looked out into the mist overlooking the alien abyss and felt one mission slipping from his hands as another was thrust into them. He turned back to the comm. "Coppy, you and Napoleon are in charge. We'll be back when we can." He swallowed hard, glanced at L'Kell, and jerked his thumb upward.
L'Kell squeezed the controller. The engines hummed, and the sub backed away from the overhang, then lifted from the abyssal ledge and drove upward into the perpetual night.
* * *
The Neri swimmers dropped out of formation with Ik's sub and dispersed for cover along the sloping seafloor. They would continue making their way toward the looming, sunken ship. They were far swifter than the lander swimmers coming to meet them, and better able to conceal themselves. The landers were close enough now that Ik could see that they were bipedal, and encumbered by bulky diving equipment.
A cloud of bubbles approached out of the haze, and from it emerged several landers riding a mechanized, powered sled. "Rakh," Ik muttered, watching the vehicle sweep in an arc ahead and a little to their left. Three landers dropped away from the sled, swimming, air bubbles streaming up from their heads. He couldn't see them too clearly, but they all seemed to be holding something in their hands. Weapons. They were fanning out, looking for the Neri swimmers—but for now, keeping clear of the sub. Maybe they thought the sub had bigger weapons.
S'Cali steered in a skirting detour to approach the salvage site from the right. Above the shadowy form of the sunken ship, Ik saw several white flashes of movement. Not the landers. More like a school of fish. He pointed. "Are those—?"
"Pikarta," S'Cali said.
"The deathfish?"
"Yes. They could be dangerous to both sides. If there's fighting, and the scent of blood gets into the water—"
Ik gave a grunt. He had lost sight of the Neri swimmers now, as well as most of the landers. "Do we need to help your people out here?"
"They can take care of themselves," S'Cali answered. "My biggest concern is the wounded inside the wreck. Maybe you'd better go back and put on your gear."
Ik clicked his mouth shut at the thought of swimming out there—among the landers and the pikarta—with diving equipment designed for juvenile Neri. "To be honest, S'Cali, if I am to be of use to you, the longer I stay inside this vessel the better. Outside, I may quickly become a liability."
S'Cali assessed him with large, dark eyes. "Perhaps so. But be ready. If they attack us with bursters—"
"Understood," Ik said. "But since we're concerned with the injured, let's see if we can stay clear of the fighting long enough for me to help you discover the cause of the sickness— yes? Radiation cannot be seen—but perhaps this ship was powered by some kind of reactor. We should be alert for a large, heavy structure or compartment somewhere inside—probably with thick metal shielding around it, maybe cracked or breached."
"There could be many places fitting that description," Delent'l called from the back of the cabin. "Our people have been opening compartments all through the wreck, combing for useful equipment. Any one of those could have been what you said."
"But not just a compartment," Ik interrupted. "It might be in a compartment, but it would be large, and inside the shielding would be tightly packed machinery—coils, wires, quantum crystal arrays—"
"I do not understand those last words," S'Cali said, turning his eyes from the viewport for an instant. "What exactly do you mean?"
Ik struggled to find a way to make it clear. "I can't say exactly, but there must be some kind of—" he flexed his fingers in frustration "—reactor—" he knew no other word "—that's leaking radiation into the water. And—by the stars, why didn't I think of this before? There might be a blue glow around it, or inside it." Secondary radiation, in the form of visible light.
"We'll ask," said S'Cali. He was steering the sub directly toward the wreck again. It was a shadowy shambles in front of them now, with what looked like large, dark openings in the hull.
"It would be very dangerous to approach. Your people must stay away from it, if they find such a thing." Ik could have kicked himself for not thinking of it before. Secondary light emission might or might not be present, but if it was, it would be one sure tip-off of radioactivity.
"We'll try to get inside, up ahead here," S'Cali said. "At some point, though, we'll have to leave the sub and swim."
"Okay, but the longer we can stay in the sub, the better," Ik said. "If there's radiation contaminating the water, the sub's hull will give us protection."
S'Cali grunted. They were very close to the wreck now. Ik still couldn't tell what kind of vessel the thing was, sunk and broken on the bottom. It was roughly cylindrical, and enclosed all around; it could as easily have been a spaceship as a submarine. Ik rubbed his chest. A spaceship? Now, that could raise interesting possibilities. "Where did this ship come from?" he asked suddenly.
"We don't know," said S'Cali. "It is very old. And very different from our ancestors' other ships." He pointed. "Look there." A pair of Neri swimmers had emerged from the wreck and were darting along the bottom to meet the sub. They stopped halfway and gestured urgently toward the ship.
"What's happening over there?" Ik asked suddenly, peering at the shadowy breach in the wreck's hull. He realized the answer even as he asked. A group of Neri were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with lander divers. That was what the two swimmers were gesturing about. "Can we help them?" he asked. "Do you have weapons on this sub?"
"I thought you were no fighter."
"Rakh. When I must, I can be of service."
"I am glad," said S'Cali. "No, we do not. But that does not mean we're helpless." He squeezed the controller, and the sub accelerated. He flicked the headlight back on, as they bore down on the fight. Three Neri and five or six landers rotated in the water, pausing momentarily in their battle. In the instant the landers were frozen, the Neri swimmers darted out of the way. This was Ik's first good look at the landers. They were encased in suits and face coverings, but appeared to be somewhat smaller than the Neri. They wore artificial fins and air-breathing gear. Of their faces, he could see nothing through the reflective glass.
Was S'Cali intending to ram them? If so, the hull of the wreck was going to make a damned hard stop. At that moment, S'Cali pulled the control back, reversing thrust. The sub braked hard, and the landers in front of it tumbled wildly, caught in the powerful jetwash. The sub slowed to a halt, and hung directly in front of the hull breach.
Ik leaned close to the window, peering out in an effort to spot the landers. Had they been knocked away to a safe distance? Or better yet, had they fled?
S'Cali spoke into the comm. "Neri outside the hull, please report." His voice reverberated, amplified by speakers on the outside.
An answering voice, thin and distorted: "Many injured and sick on the inside . . .unable to get away."
"We're here to stay with you," said S'Cali. "More swimmers are coming."
Before there could be an answer, a new cry came: "Landers returning!" There was a thump on the outside of the hull, and Ik glimpsed webbed Neri feet flying past the port as Neri swimmers maneuvered to greet a new attack.
S'Cali swiveled the control, and the sub rotated in place, facing outward from the wreck. A group of landers was coming in, swimming furiously; two of them raised weapons and fired darts. One glanced off the sub with a ding. S'Cali caught them in the headlight and roared out toward them. As they began to turn and disperse, he yawed the sub violently left and right, threatening to sweep anything and everything out of his path.
Ik was unprepared as S'Cali reversed thrust again, repelling the attackers with the jetwash. He was thrown forward, catching himself with one hand against the viewport. He clacked his mouth, wondering how much impact the pane could withstand.
S'Cali backed the sub toward the wreck, with Delent'l calling out directions from the stern, where he was peering out a small porthole. Out in front, though, Ik caught sight of a lander sled approaching amid a cloud of bubbles. Ik saw something erupt from the sled and streak toward them. "S'Cali!" he cried.
The Neri shouted a warning on the outside comm. "Burster coming! Take cover!"
A moment later came a flash, followed by a concussion and a clap to Ik's ears. The sub jarred, and Ik's ears were left ringing. The hull seemed to hold well enough, but as Ik shook off the effects, he wondered how the Neri outside were faring. "S'Cali, are they hurt out there?" He glanced sideways, and realized that S'Cali himself was stunned. "S'Cali—can you hear me?" He took hold of the Neri's arm.
S'Cali peered at him in apparent puzzlement, then came back to the present. His large eyes blinked, and he turned and snapped out a call on the outside comm. "Neri swimmers, what is your condition?"
The replies came in scratchily, like distant shouts. A couple of Neri had been injured, and were being helped back inside the wreck by others. But Ik realized, peering out the viewport, that several lander divers had been injured by the explosion, too. Most of them were withdrawing from the area; but one was floating not far from the sub, looking dazed.
Two Neri swimmers converged on the lander and grabbed him. "Can you have your people hold that one?" Ik urged, pointing. "Perhaps we can talk to him, find out what they want!"
S'Cali looked doubtful for a moment—but barked an order. The two Neri responded by wrestling the lander out of sight behind the sub, into the shelter of the wreck.
"What now?" Ik asked.
S'Cali had no time to answer. A shadow passed over them, moving quicky, then another. S'Cali's eyes rotated upward. "Pikarta!" he called. "Take cover! Pikarta over the site!"
Ik tensed, craning his neck to peer up. Three creatures nearly as large as the sub had sailed over, and were now circling to return. They were shaped like enormous, elongated raindrops with mouth openings on the front. In the mouth openings, Ik could see teeth. But something was odd about the teeth, some trick of the light. As the pikarta sped back toward the sub, Ik finally saw what it was: their teeth were rotating in their mouths like huge, spinning rasps.
"Is everyone inside?" S'Cali cried, maneuvering the sub to try to provide cover to the swimmers.
The first deathfish slammed into the top of the sub with a sickening impact and grinding screech—teeth spinning on metal. Its hindquarters and tail convulsed in front of the viewport; then the fish careened away. S'Cali fought to keep the sub upright. Ik could only hold on desperately, squinting out the window. The second and third pikarta veered away from the sub, seeking easier prey.
The landers were fleeing, but the pikarta were much faster. Ik watched in horror as one turned and caught a free-swimming lander. From where Ik lay, the lander was just a small, shadowy shape. Even so, he could see its body turn instantly to a cloud of blood and shreds. "Moon and stars," Ik breathed aloud, thinking with a shudder that it could just as easily have been him, or any of these Neri. He felt no better about it being a lander, for whom he held no hatred.
"They may be coming back," S'Cali said. "We've got to get inside." He touched the comm. "Is everyone in?" He was already turning the sub toward the hull breach.
"What about the Neri who came with us?" Ik asked, thinking of the swimmers on the far side of the wreck, whom they had left trying to evade lander divers.
As though in answer, he felt a sudden concussion, but muted. "Was that—"
"Landers on the other side, probably. We can't do much for our people over there now," S'Cali said. "But they know how to hide, and fight if they have to. I'd guess the pikarta are a bigger threat to the landers right now than to our people. Those bursters may have been aimed at the pikarta." He completed the turn and was directed into the hull opening by a Neri, almost invisible in the shadows of the wreck.
"Are you sure we can fit?" Ik asked nervously, eyeing the jagged edges of the opening.
Another concussion hit much closer, the shock wave nearly carrying them into the side of the wreck.
"No choice," said S'Cali. "Our wounded are inside. We can't help them from here."
True, Ik thought. It was either drive the sub in, or get out and swim. He peered close to the viewport, and tried to gauge the clearance. S'Cali was steering them expertly into the breach. The wreck loomed around them, as they moved into the near-darkness of the interior.
Then Delent'l shouted a warning from the back—and bursters started going off directly behind them. Thud! Thud! Thud!
S'Cali cried a warning—and the sub pitched nose-down, surged forward, and slammed into a heavy bulkhead. Ik was thrown headfirst into the viewport. The lights sputtered and died, and he heard water gushing into the compartment.