"Well, Juan, this is interesting."
Lethal hardware was everywhere. Gutierrez was more than a little annoyed that weapons had been issued to so many. The major could tell by the set of his lips as Sebastiano, to whom it was also obvious, stepped forward, indicating that what he wanted to say wasn't intended for everybody.
"In the general's absence," the Hatch's captain whispered, "I thought it wise to give Big Bird, here, some protection." His eyebrows indicated the KGB nearby. "Considering the traditional fate, sir, of the bearer of bad news?"
Gutierrez gave him a grudging nod. The avian hadn't heard what passed between them. He was attempting to explain himself to an angry crowd. " . . . sincere belief that Semlohcolresh may have been the victim of foul play."
A dozen voices dropped to a sneer, an eerie effect Reille y Sanchez thought. Empleado left his underlings and approached Gutierrez. "General, must we waste time listening to this? Does this thing actually expect us to accept excuses for not handing a murderer over?"
"Art," replied the general, "I want you to"
"Twenny ferns," Broward Hake interrupted in an accent which, with the rise of the ASSR, had fallen out of fashion in his native Texas, "says this Semlohcolresh slimed his way back t'someplace where real people never evolved!"
The avian's hands fluttered like independent organisms. "General, help me! No matter how I explain the situation, your people won't understand!"
"Understandjust a minute." Hake had opened his mouth again, but Gutierrez spoke before he got a word out. "Arthur, listen up!"
Empleado's head snapped toward Gutierrez. "General?"
"Tell your Neanderthals if I'm interrupted again, it isn't going to help that they belong to the KGB. Do I make myself clear, Art?"
Empleado gulped and looked resentful. "Yes, General."
"Now, Aelbraugh Pritsch, you wanted us to understand something?"
"Yes, sir, I do. Regrettably, I can't explain a pivotal scientific fact when those I wish to explain it to lack the background to comprehend it."
"This," Gutierrez asked, "is leading somewhere?"
"General, it isn't our custom to keep secrets we can't profit by. Your technical education, that of your people, was to begin with the major's visit to our power plant. Mister Thoggosh even intended to show you the dimensional translation machinery which brought us to 5023 Eris."
"Intentions," he shook his head, "are the only thing cheaper than talk."
"Splendid! Is that original, sir, or is it" replied the bird-being. "Never mind, to the point: in the absence of sufficient technical education, how can you appreciate the extreme difficulty, the overwhelming danger"
"Not to mention the expense?"
"the hideous expense interdimensional travel represents? I can't get your people to understand. Perhaps they won't understand. No one crosses world-lines casually or secretly."
"Why not?" Roger Betal had an accent, too, similar to Hake's, although he and the major had a nation of ancestral origin in common. She'd learned to keep track of what the man did, rather than what he said. He could be agreeable, say anything to win a friend or avoid a fight, but when she'd made the mistake of accepting his invitation to a movie near the base where they'd been training, she'd seen him beat a vagrant half to death because the poor man had touched his uniform with dirty hands. Afterward, he'd relied on his credentials to avoid formal charges. Gutierrez gave him a glare, but left it at that, probably because he was curious about the answer.
"Because too much energy is expended. There are manifestations. It would be like taking off from Cape Canaveral without being seen or heard."
"To the extent any of us believes you, Aelbraugh Pritsch," Empleado sneered, "you've just managed to make things worse!"
The avian turned to focus his amber eyes on the KGB man. "I'm afraid that I fail to understand your meaning, this time, sir."
"Yes, Arthur," echoed the general, "meaning what?"
"That these beasts," Empleado's face was red and his fists were clenched, "are conspiring! If Semlohcolresh didn't escape this asteroid to avoid the consequences of his crime, then his fellow creatures must be helping him to remain in hiding!"
"He's holed up," Hake seconded the motion, "and the rest are covering up!" Muttering, especially from Empleado's other three hirelings, agreed.
The major watched as the exasperated avian changed tactics. "General, I appeal to you." He spread his hands. "Whatever the truth, whoever killed Dr. Kamanov, don't you see that these events will plunge your entire Solar System, and all of us along with it, into war? I'm sure everybody, on every side, realizes one and only one thing can prevent such a catastrophe."
"Discovering," Gutierrez agreed, "whoever killed Pete Kamanov."
"Guilty or not," a cynical Sebastiano hissed under his breath, "as long as it's soon." Assenting noises were heard from others.
"Precisely," the avian replied, the major hoped to the general rather than the colonel. "Justice must be arrived at in a manner satisfactory to all."
"No small matter in itself," Gutierrez observed.
"The more reason both sides," the avian turned to plead with all the humans, "must cooperate in trying to achieve it."
"This is bullshit!" Demene Wise complained. "Chicken shit!" amended Delbert Roo. "Parrot shit!" Wise tossed back. Nasty laughter from the other thugs wasn't shared this time by most of the humans.
"Look at him!" Reille y Sanchez startled herself by shouting. She strode forward, pointing a finger at Aelbraugh Pritsch. "Don't you morons understand that what you're hearing in his voice isn't fear for himself?"
"Estrellita," Gutierrez tried to interrupt, "what are you"
"Sir, I've been thinking over what you said, about their not wanting our blood on their hands." Gutierrez gestured for her to go on. She turned to the stirring of voices around them. " `The same principle that powers quasars!' Have you thought about that? That nautiloid stopped two bullets before they reached their target, 11.43x23mm Lenin, traveling just over the speed of sound! They could wipe us off this rock at any second! Instead, the idea seems to upset them more than if their own lives were on the line!"
In the silence following her outburst, Gutierrez seized the initiative. "Okay," he told the avian, "I may regret it, but I'm assuming you're on the up and up." Breaking precedent himself, the usually loquacious being nodded and Gutierrez went on. "If you're handling this mess for yourthe nautiloids, somebody'll have to take charge of it for us. I'm an obvious candidate, or Art, but it'll have to be confirmed by higher authority before we start." He turned. "Juan, I want Washington on the line five minutes ago."
"Aye, aye, Commodore!" Grinning, Sebastiano jogged toward the flagship. "One long-distance call, coming up!"
"General?" It was Rosalind Nguyen, carrying a small beaker of dark brown liquid. "May I speak with you a moment?"
Twenty minutes later, having seen Aelbraugh Pritsch off and attended to a few matters around camp, Gutierrez followed Sebastiano aboard the Dole, squeezing through the hatch, and climbed up to the rear of the command deck. He settled the phones over his ears, bending the slender microphone pipette until it was in place before his lips. "Ampersand, this is Asterisk on Scramble Six. We've got a situation here, over."
Nearby, Reille y Sanchez was reminded of the lonely distance separating them from home. It would take over seventeen minutes for his words to reach Earthwhere the duty tech at Canaveral would have to summon a responsible officer, probably in Washington, adding to the delayand another seventeen to receive a reply. Gutierrez would like to spell their "situation" out this first time, she thought, but ASSR security measures forbade it. Unable to think of anything that could be done in the intervening time, they waited, Empleado fidgeting beside her. It was seventy-seven minutes later, by her watch, when a voice like crackling cellophane filtered into the general's phones and, at the same time, through a speaker on the panel.
"Asterisk, this is Ampersand. Scramble Six negatively secure. Go Scramble Nine or end transmission, over."
Surprised murmurs swept the deck. Gutierrez shook his head, a gesture of frustration lost over an audio link of over three hundred million kilometers. "Ampersand, Asterisk. Scramble Nine is no good, either, repeat, negatively good. Our, er, hosts can unscramble anything we can scramble, over." The general turned to those around him, giving them an ironic grin. "Three ways to do anything." He didn't need to finish the old army joke, they knew he meant the right way, the wrong way, and the government way. Experience indicated that there wasn't much difference between the latter two. "Would somebody like to make some real coffee while we wait?"
The suggestion was greeted with enthusiasm. Sometime during the long walk the general and the major had taken, Mister Thoggosh had sent a generous supply of roasted whole beans to the camp. His people apparently had the habit, too. Corporal Owen had cobbled up a drip device using laboratory filters and discarded food containers, but, wary of foreign substances, not to mention a murder already committed, Sebastiano had made everyone wait for Dr. Nguyen's analysis and Gutierrez's subsequent permission before brewing any.
This time the voice of Earth was impatient and peremptory. "Asterisk, this is Ampersand. It isn't your `hosts' we're concerned with. Leaders of the United World Soviet, here in the ASSR and in the USSR, have been kept up to date on your mission and are conferring around the clock. Go Scramble Nine immediately. Give us a telemetry update on the sideband while you're at it, over."
On the command deck, the aggregate eyebrow level was raised a meter by the brief message. Beside the general, Sebastiano, a set of phones pressed to one ear, made adjustments and examined readouts. He glanced for confirmation at a tech standing in an identical posture on the side away from his boss, then back at the general, lifting a circled thumb and forefinger.
"Ampersand," Gutierrez told his mike, "this is Asterisk. Roger telemetry on sideband at" Sebastiano scribbled a figure on a pad velcroed to the panel. "128 to 1. Going Scramble Nine as ordered in four seconds on my mark. Mark, one, two, three. Ampersand, this is Asterisk on Scramble Nine, do you still copy, over?"
"Around the clock?" Empleado's eyebrows were highest of all, making up in an odd way for his baldness. It would be thirty-four minutes before they heard from Earth again. Almost two hours wasted, the major thought, on conversation which had so far been worth less than two minutes. "Presumably our leaders differ on what Marxist conduct demands in this instance."
Gutierrez turned from the console. "You bet your ass they differ! Can't you see it, Congress and Politburo, President and Premier, dithering themselves to death, while the real negotiation"
Empleado interrupted. "General, I"
"Stow it, Art." He shot a glance at Reille y Sanchez. She was reminded of their bargain: the truth, no matter what. "Everyone knows about the Banker, Arthur. Why pretend it's a deep, dark secret? It's what Pete said, we Americans, in the Russian view, haven't lived with Marxism long enough. Moscowthe Banker, his peopleare bound to be more `realistic and flexible' than Washington, especially when matters of ideology conflict with common sense. Moscow wants peace with the Elders, to get their technology, no matter what."
"General, I"
"Art, you're repeating yourself. Can I have another cup of coffee? Thanks, Major. You know, Pete once told me that to his people, Marxism's like the old man who lived with a family for years in an overcrowded apartment in Leningrad. He was filthy, smelled bad, his personal habits would've disgusted Rasputin. No one in the family liked him much, but no one had the courage to tell him to get out. Finally, the wife confronted her husband, saying that he must tell his uncle to leave.
" `My uncle?' the husband replied, `I thought he was your uncle!' "
"Sir, I was going to say" Empleado paused as if expecting another interruption, seeming almost disappointed when it didn't happen. "in the interest of survival, that our leaders, whose expedition this is supposed to be, may decide they can do without the advice of the world capital."
Gutierrez nodded. It was a surprising analysis, thought the major, considering the source. Like many Americans, she was aware that, for some time, Washington had only been paying lip service to Moscow.
"And now it's time," Sebastiano said, reminding her of Kamanov's remark about Texas Marxism, "to show the world who's the biggest and best Marxist power?"
Half an hour went by. "Asterisk, this is Ampersand." A different voice, someone with more authority, or the shifts had changed at the Cape. "We copy you five by five on Scramble Nine, voice and telemetry. Now why the hell are you breaking radio silence? It better be good, over."
"Hasn't it been good for you?" Gutierrez fought annoyance the one way he knew. "Strike that, Ampersand. We've had a series of, ah, events, here. We've lost Col. Richardson." He cleared his throat. "Not dead, repeat, negatively dead, just . . . misplaced. She collapsed on landing and had to be sedated. Under therapy, she went berserk and escaped with a gun after trying unsuccessfully, repeat, unsuccessfully, to kill one of the Elders. We have parties out. Negative results so far." He gave his next words careful thought. "That's the short subject. Our feature presentation is that Dr. Kamanov, our geologist, appears to have been strangled to death by one of the nautiloids, an individual named Semlohcolresh, now negatively present, over."
Finding one of the jump seats behind the control seats, Reille y Sanchez dozed off, thinking that this kind of communication always gave her a feeling of not knowing what to do with herself once the last few words had been said. She could see that the general felt that way. Somewhere among such thoughts she lost track of time and was awakened, with sore back and stiffened muscles, by the radio.
"Asterisk, this is Ampersand," came yet another faceless voice. "For this you broke radio silence? What the fuck do you mean, negatively present? We don't understand why you broke fucking radio silence! Kamanov was nonessential personnel. Demand that the killer be turned over to you and execute it, SOP, over."
"Ampersand, it isn't that easyI mean, this is Asterisk. You idiots invented this lingo." Struggling with anger again, Gutierrez took deep breaths to prevent the words he wanted to say from escaping. He'd noticed before that the higher somebody's authority, the worse language he used on his subordinates. "Semlohcolresh, the apparent killer, repeat, apparent, subsequently disappeared and is negatively available. His people swear they don't know where he is. They suggest that he, too, may be a victim of some kind of violence, over."
This time, rather than fall asleep and wake up with a useless body, the major decided to spend the lag time walking around the camp.
"Cancer stick?" Danny Gutierrez grinned, a slim cylinder between his lips. The trailing wisp had an unmistakable, welcome aroma. Somewhere, somehow, someone had scrounged some cigarettes, maybe the same way as the coffee. Yet she remembered what the general had said: as far as Mister Thoggosh knew, humans from her Earth were the only sapients anywhere, anywhen, dumb enough to have invented smoking.
She took onefor her part, she didn't know a Marine, anywhere, anywhen, who wouldn'tSouth African, as it turned out, Kendalls, when it was offered with the wrist-flick she'd never seen any non-American imitate successfully. Something sparked in the boy's hand, an emergency fire-lighter from one of the shuttle kits, knurled carbide thumb-wheel in a brass fixture which held what was called flint and a short length of fluffy cotton cord. It had been screwed onto an aluminum reservoir from arctic survival lip-gloss. Corporal Owen's handiwork. Reille y Sanchez bent over the tiny flame and drew smoke into her lungs.
"Thanks, Lieutenant." She exhaled. "Coffee and cigarettes. My life is complete. Feels like rain. How can that be?"
The air was warm, damp and as close as if they were indoors. In a way, they were. The yellow sky, of course, was artificial and never seemed to change. She found it getting on her nerves. Where she came from, sky that color meant tornadoes.
The lieutenant blinked, puppy-bashful in a more normal manner than Pulaski's habitual shyness, the supply of small talk which protected him from good-looking female officers who outranked him used up. "Dr. Kamanov said it's a matter of volume. There are buildings on Earth where it rains. Before hehe expected it to happen before this."
In that instant they heard a noise they might have described as a ping, if it hadn't been loud enough to deafen. Their attention, focused on the sky, was seized by the appearance, not quite overhead, more in the direction of the power plant, of a violet pinpoint bright enough to throw faint shadows on the grayish flank of the shuttle beside them.
"What the fusorry, Major!" Reille y Sanchez grinned despite a brief, dizzy feeling, as if her heart fluttered or a tremor lifted the ground under her feet. Of course that might well have been the nicotine.
The violet spot began pulsing, suddenly throwing off a ring of brilliant blue. At the fifth pulse, another ring swelled outward, emerald green, and at the tenth, another, yellow-gold, contrasting with the indifferent mustard of the sky it was projected on. Each ring was broader than the preceding one, with no space visible between them. Fascinated by the display, Reille y Sanchez had lost count of the pulses, although each was accompanied by the fluttery sensation which made it difficult to breathe. An orange ring took its place outside the others. It was hard to judge its size. She estimated it was nine or ten times the diameter of the moon as seen from Earth. It was joined by a ring of ruby red, its far edge hidden by the serried jungle horizon.
In the beginning, the rings pulsed together. Now they began to slip out of phase until, like a multicylindered engine, the sense of vibration spread evenly from moment to moment into a disturbing, low-throated growl. Reille y Sanchez felt her ears ringing. She was forced to concentrate to get her breath. The look on Danny's face, a softened version of the general's, was a mixture of fear and curiosity, probably identical to her own.
Without warning, another ping reverberated through the air. In a rush from the center, the rings suddenly reversed colors, violet outermost, shrank inward, and vanished. Before the major could decide what color of residual dazzle had imprinted itself on her retina, a blinding flash of lightning eradicated it. An ordinary peal of thunder followed. Rain began to fall as if directed downward at them through a fire hose. They ducked beneath the wing of the Dole to watch their fellow travelers, as enthralled as they had been at the aerial display, scrambling for cover.
"So that's what weather-making machinery's like." Danny, his earlier shyness forgotten, thrust thumb and forefinger into a breast pocket, extracting the pack of Kendalls. "Very impressive. Another cigarette, Major?"
She let him light it for her, and stood beside him, breathing smoke and watching the rain. When she returned to the flagship's command deck, it was in time to see the elder Gutierrez shaken out of sleep the same way she'd been. He'd slept through the spectacular beginning of the storm, but was alert the moment a voice issued from the radio.
"Asterisk, this is Ampersand. This is a fucking stall and you ought to know it, GutierrezAmpersandI mean Asterisk! Why haven't you ordered those vermin off the asteroid? Why haven't you ordered them to produce the killer? What's wrong with you, anyway, Asterisk? Over."
Rubbing an arm, the general lumbered to the mike, not bothering with the headphones. "Ampersand, this is Asterisk. I tried to explain last time. You didn't listen. These beings are five hundred million years ahead of us. They vaporize bullets and generate power with something so far beyond fusion I don't know how to ask what it is, let alone how it works. I'm in no position to order anybody to do anything. We're outgunned and living on favors. I'm looking into the murder, cooperating with what passes for authority here. I called, SOP as you say, to see who you want to head the investigation. We have an official of the American KGBno, I can't remember his damned code namealso any unofficial `representative' you may have aboard. Major Estrellita Reille y Sanchez, in charge of military security, might be a logical choice, considering the circumstances, over."
Surprised and pleased to have been mentioned, the major watched Gutierrez during the next endless lag, preparing himself for a counterblast. Instead, what they heard was: "Stand by, Asterisk, over."
"Ampersand," the general keyed his mike, "this is Asterisk, over." The hiss of empty airwaves filled headphones and speakers. "Ampersand," he insisted, "this is Asterisk, do you copy, over?"
"Asterisk, this is Ampersand." Gutierrez jumped as the reply coincided with his futile attempt to elicit it. "Negative your recommenJorge, what the fuck did you say the code name was? I dunno, how the fuck can I remember what you never told me, I'm just the fucking messenger boy! Well, fuck you and your pet iguana! Strike that, Asterisk. Orders from Washington, highest priority: the political officer's passed over without prejudice."
This, thought Reille y Sanchez, despite the fact that Empleado, at least until this afternoon, wholeheartedly supported ASSR policy. She wondered if it meant Washington knew something about him she didn't. She also wondered how it might have gone if the number two KGB officer hadn't lost her mind. Maybe Washington itself wasn't sure, judging by what came next.
"For purposes of investigation, you'll place in charge Major Estrellita Reille y Sanchez, field appointment to full colonel, effective immediately, Russian KGB. Do you copy, Asterisk? Never mind, don't answer that, maintain radio silence. This is Ampersand, over and out."