Howling Stones (36 page)

“We’ll go back. Instead of racing about aimlessly we’ll
find some way to make contact. Draw attention to ourselves. It is the right thing to do. You’ll see. I have so many questions …”

“Too many questions. I’m sorry, Pulickel, but you’re wrong about this. Let the Parramati dismantle the terminal. Then we’ll talk. I’m having enough trouble trying to deal with this one world without having to worry about thousands. Let’s see if the humanx can get a proper handle on this one corner of this one galaxy before we expose it to a few thousand others we know nothing about and may not be able to handle. Somehow I don’t think that we and the thranx are the only intelligent species with an agenda for advancement.”

He stared at her in disbelief, tight-lipped and quivering with anger and frustration. Had she lost her mind or just gone troppo? She’d been too long alone in this place.

Finally he would get the recognition he deserved. Government-wide, society-wide recognition; not just piddling little promotions in the aftermath of each assignment successfully carried out. He would have anything he wanted. This would make him the most famous scientist in the Commonwealth, placing him on a level with Newton and Einstein and Kurita. And his colleague, his
friend
, wanted to consign it all to the care of a group of heavy-legged aboriginal aliens, who in their turn would reduce it to a pile of useless, inert green rocks.

Absurd, unthinkable, mad. He would
not
be denied.

He had only once used the pistol that was part of his field kit. It was intended for defense against Senisran’s less benevolent species. But he’d carried similar devices on other worlds and was no stranger to their function. They were tools, nothing more. With careful deliberation he removed it from its holster.

“… and that’s why we—” Fawn was telling Ascela
and Jorana when she saw the gun. She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening. Pulickel had seen her surprised before, but never shocked. A first time for everything, he told himself.

“What … do you think you are doing?”

“You know, Fawn, a man waits all his life for one big chance, one real opportunity to rise above the crowd, to distinguish himself from the herd. To take it and fail is bad, but not to take it at all is a hundred times worse.” It felt good to give voice to his feelings. He might not convince her, but he was certainly convincing himself.

“Most people never get that chance. I’ve spent a career toiling for the Department, doing good work but not great work, receiving commendations but not accolades. When the media want comments on the division’s inner workings, I’m never the one they interview. When procedural decisions are made, I’m not the one consulted. I’m a valuable functionary, but nothing more. Well, I’m tired of being a cog.”

She did her best to reassure him, but she wasn’t smiling. “Take away one cog and the whole machine stops.”

“Nice try. Please don’t come any closer, Ascela.” The big person had taken a short hop toward the diminutive xenologist. Now she retreated. Fawn had demonstrated the effectiveness of modern weapons for the Torrelauapans on several occasions. Ascela herself had seen a pistol cut a revavuaa in half. She passed a warning along to the increasingly restless big persons nearby.

Retreating slowly, Pulickel used his left hand to feel behind him for the entrance to the ovoid. “Please keep back. It would distress me greatly if I had to shoot anyone.”

Fawn just stared at him. “Don’t do this, Pulickel. You’re not feeling well.”

“On the contrary, I feel fine. Very much alive, thank
you. Exhilarated, even. I’m going back, Fawn. By myself, it seems. I’m going to try to make contact, to learn as much as I can, and then I am returning. I will see that you receive due credit for your degree of participation in this seminal exploration.”

Watching the weapon, she chanced a couple of steps in his direction. “You need to come back to the station with me, Pulickel. You need to rest. I’ll take care of you.” Striking a pose, she bestowed on him the most inviting, sexy smile in her considerable but infrequently unveiled arsenal. “Come with me, and we’ll talk it over.”

“Just stay back, Fawn.” The pistol didn’t waver. “Tell everyone to keep away.” This wasn’t as difficult as he feared. Unable to see over the heads and ears of their tightly packed brethren, most of the Parramati were unaware of what was going on.

Still pointing the gun, he climbed backward into the ovoid and sat down. It was easier now. They could only come at him from one direction. As he tried to watch Fawn and the nearest big persons simultaneously, it occurred to him that he was going to look very foolish if this time the device didn’t react to his presence and nothing happened.

Her expression a mix of hurt and anger, Fawn moved to converse with Ascela. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they glanced frequently in his direction. Let them look all they wanted, he thought grimly. He was snug and secure within the ovoid.

It was all bluff, of course. He couldn’t shoot anyone. But the Parramati did not know that, and Fawn didn’t know him well enough to count on it. Especially if she thought he’d gone off the deep end. By the time she reached the conclusion that he was incapable of harming another intelligent being, he would be long gone. Or so he hoped.

As he sat pondering, the pistol positioned loosely between his knees, the entrance sealed over. The sensation of movement returned and the outside world darkened as for the second time the ovoid slid backward into the terminal. Outside, he could see Fawn shouting at him and gesticulating. No sound penetrated his shelter.

He smiled to himself. Throughout his career, his official reports had been models of precision and organization. The one he intended to file from Torrelau would top them all. It had to, since it was destined to be filed alongside
On the Origin of Species, A General Theory of Relativity
, and
Proposals for a Special Gravitational Algorithm for Space-Plus Routing
.

For a second time that night blackness enveloped the ovoid. Vibration increased.

He was on his way.

It seemed to take a little longer than the first time until the capsule burst out into the realm of fiery plasma tunnels and rampant rivers of channeled energy. Having some idea of what to expect, he was able to devote more time to studious observation and less to slack-jawed amazement.

After a while the tunnels began to fall from view, exactly as before, until only the one down which he was racing remained. Arching sharply to the left, it punched back into the star-rich region that had so entranced him and his fellow travelers previously.

Somewhat to his own surprise, he recognized several systems and structures in passing. But then, he’d always been good at recording details for future analysis, and when some of those “details” were the size of entire worlds, they tended to remain firmly in memory.

He saw new megastructures, as well, and marveled afresh at the skills of those who had fashioned them. Whoever these beings were, they had mastered the art of materials science, for art it had to be called. They had bent matter to their needs. He made notes using the old-fashioned stylus and paper he always carried in his pack, and sketched as best he could.
That
human technology, at least, seemed to function without difficulty in this place.

Unexpectedly, the incredible starfield began to shift less
rapidly around him. He was slowing, much sooner than on the previous journey. Putting up his writing materials, he turned within the ovoid. No immediate changes were visible, but then, the smooth interior offered little that was subject to alteration.

External motion ceased. All about him, channeled plasma roared silently. The capsule came to, as near as he could tell in the absence of suitable reference points, a complete stop.

While he did not panic, his curiosity was underscored by a growing tension. What if something had gone wrong? As ancient as the system was, it was not unreasonable to expect that individual components would break down from time to time. It was a dazzling, resplendent place to be marooned, but he could die here as readily as in total darkness. As alone as it was possible for a human being to be, he sat and meditated and waited for something to happen.

Only the sharp curve of the tunnel allowed him to see the object as it approached. Though a long way off, he was able to determine that it was definitely moving toward him. Immense beyond imagining, the star-treading torus was fringed with an exotic and unrecognizable assortment of protrusions and bulges. It was accompanied by a flotilla of other craft that darted and drifted about it like worker ants attending to their queen. The least of these vessels was far larger than the biggest KK-drive ship ever built.

The plasma tunnel down which he had been racing was rapidly vanishing into the exact center of the toroidal wanderer. It did not reemerge on the other side. One did not have to be an alien mega-engineer to understand what was happening.

The road-builders were taking up the pavement.

Where the tunnel disappeared there flared an aurora
the size of the Earth. Energy was not consumed so much as it was shifted. Unable in any way to affect his own destiny, he stared, enthralled, as the torus maintained its methodical advance. If it did not stop before it reached him, both he and the ovoid would vanish in an insignificant puff of ruptured particles.

Then he was no longer alone. Vehicles too small to be seen at a distance, which had been dwarfed by the torus and its support craft, were suddenly hovering close by, just outside the raging tunnel wall. As the conduit collapsed around him, he was able to make out more of the big-eyed, smooth-skinned creatures he and his companions had glimpsed so briefly on their previous visit. His earlier impressions were confirmed. Physically, at least, these creatures were decidedly unprepossessing. Slight of stature, they were small beings with big machines, and they were closing down the Parramati tunnel. All because of him?

Their aversion to uninvited guests could no longer be denied.

While several of the small superfast craft remained nearby, allowing their occupants to study him, others vanished, presumably returning to the vicinity of the advancing torus. He found that he was starting to sweat. Though he’d faced death on more than one world, it remained a confrontation he did not relish.

A jolt sharp enough to knock him backward rattled the ovoid. Acceleration resumed. Gathering himself, he saw that the torus had begun to recede. Or more likely, he from it. His sanctuary had been thrust into reverse. At the whim of alien engineers, he was going to live a little while longer.

Several of the small craft tracked his withdrawal, paralleling the ovoid as it retraced its path back up the tunnel. Though he felt he was moving more slowly than
before, he soon lost sight of the plasma-consuming torus. When eventually the starfield vanished to be replaced by the Gordian knot of intertwined tunnels, so did his escort.

For all their inconceivable physical accomplishments, the engineers had struck him as a timid species. It was an impression, a sensation, that ran deeper than a few brief visual contacts ought to have been able to convey, but no less tangible for that. As tangible as the feeling that they didn’t want anything to do with him or with his kind.

Though he couldn’t be certain from what he’d seen, it seemed that they were in the process of closing down the tunnel permanently. Privacy and isolation were one thing, paranoia was another. Had the entire gigantic apparatus required to shut down the tunnel been brought into use only since his prior journey in the ovoid? Had that visit set off some kind of alarm? Certainly these cosmos-spanning beings couldn’t be that frightened of him.

The corollaries were unsettling. They implied that there was something else to be afraid of. Something that on the basis of a tiny, insignificant intrusion would drive beings like these not just to close off but to break down a construct as complex as the plasma tunnel, to eliminate it from the fabric of existence. From within the safety of the ovoid he had seen many wonders. What was out there that he had not seen?

What was out there that so terrified these masters of matter?

The rationale for the terminal’s original dissipation was clear enough. Its makers no longer had need of it and did not want it used. Its components had been taken apart and scattered, perhaps in haste. Evolving subsequently, primitive Parramati had learned that when combined, certain stones had useful consequences. By far the most complex of these combinations resulted in the auto-reconstitution of the Senisran terminal. No doubt the engineers hadn’t
counted on anyone discovering the component stones, much less their inherent recombinant capabilities.

Among other things, it suggested that they had left in haste. That, too, was not a pleasant thought.

The blackness returned, blotting out his view of other tunnels and rampaging energies. In contrast to previous journeying, the ride became bumpy and uneven. Once, a violent wrenching to the right slammed him against the opposite wall of the ovoid. Dazed, he lay on the floor, trying to focus on the rose-hued ceiling. How far behind him the consuming torus lay he did not know, but clearly its operation was affecting the entire length of the tunnel.

He found himself wondering if it would collapse completely before he made it back to Senisran.

The ovoid began to slow and he relaxed. Any moment now, he knew, it would start to emerge from the terminal, the end would open, and he would step out to rejoin Fawn and the waiting big persons. Feeling suddenly ashamed, he knew he owed all of them a general apology. Blinded by the light of potential discovery, he had acted in haste and, not to put too fine a point on it, rather badly. He determined to make things right with the Parramati as well as with his dismayed associate.

The capsule came to a halt. Outside the transparent walls, darkness continued to reign supreme. No soft moonlight, no welcoming lanterns illuminated his anxious expression. He could see outside, but only into varying degrees of blackness. A feeling of dread crept over him.