"Okay," Uclod said softly, "this clinches it. The Shaddill are Las Fuentes."
It seemed appropriate to talk in near-whispers. We had stopped just inside the door, none of us ready to venture farther. "Admiral," Aarhus murmured, "those fountains on Las Fuentes planets — did any of them work?"
Festina shook her head. "By the time humans arrived, they’d been sitting idle for thousands of years — gummed up with dirt and mold. A lot were completely buried under normal soil accumulation; they were only found because they sat in the middle of those huge craters and archaeologists knew where to dig."
"But did the fountains have pipes? And water sources?"
"They had pipes, but they didn’t actually draw from the surrounding water table; the water came from big sealed reservoir drums buried under the ground." Festina shrugged. "Using a self-contained water source might have been a religious thing — maybe the water in the fountain had to be specially blessed by priests, and Las Fuentes didn’t want their holy water mixing with unsanctified stuff from local rivers. For that matter, the reservoir drums and the fountains may not have contained normal H2O. The fountains could have held a sacred drug used in worship ceremonies… or blood from animal sacrifices… or milk ritually obtained from a million mothers… and before you ask, no, we don’t know if Las Fuentes actually produced milk, I just made that up as an example."
Example or not, it was something that caught my attention. I should very much like to see a fountain that sprayed milk or blood. Perhaps the fountain before us had an ON switch. At the very least, it might contain crusty stains one could pick off with one’s fingernail and stare at with haughty disapproval. I moved toward the triangle of trees… then found myself jerked back again as Festina once more grabbed my jacket.
"No," she said with quiet urgency, "it might be a trap. The door to this room opened as we approached, unlike every other door we’ve passed. That’s way too convenient."
"Don’t be so grim, missy," Uclod told her. "There’s nobody here, right? And if this fountain is a Shaddill shrine, maybe the door always opens automatically as a sign of welcome. ‘Come in, whoever you are, sit down and pray.’ "
Festina did not look convinced… and it dawned on me she might be correct in saying the door did not open by accident. The Pollisand’s eyes had led us here; perhaps the Pollisand himself had arranged for the door to open because there was something we ought to discover. "I do not think there is danger," I told Festina. "If this is a holy place, surely it is the last location the Shaddill would set a trap. An attack on us might damage the fountain."
"Unless," said Aarhus, "they’re the sort who think shrines look holier when splashed with the blood of enemies."
"Oh, you’re a barrel of laughs," Uclod muttered.
Yet Another Thing That Might Be Wrong With My Brain
"If I can make a suggestion…" Nimbus said.
We all turned toward the cloud man. In the dim light, he had been so nearly invisible it was easy to forget he was there. "If you think it’s important, I could send some of my components over to the fountain. It’s unlikely the ship would notice a few stray cells drifting through the air… and I could do a quick chemical analysis on any residue in the basin."
"That is excellent," I said. "It could provide us with important information."
"Why?" Festina asked. "Why do we care what the Shaddill put in their fountains? Why should it matter if the stuff is water, blood, or fucking Sangria?" She stared at me most piercingly. "You’ve got some idea in your head, Oar; I can tell. That’s scary enough on its own, considering what your ideas can be like. But with you being a Shaddill creation, I also worry the bastards might be influencing you somehow. Beaming notions straight into your cerebral cortex. They could have built your brain with receptors that would let them control you when it became necessary."
"That is very foolish!" I answered hotly. "I am not being controlled by anyone!" But… was I sure the Pollisand eyes I had seen were actually attached to the Pollisand? He had left no footprints; no one else had seen the dim crimson glows. If the Shaddill had constructed my brain in such a fashion as to delude me with False Sensory Input…
Oh, it was very most irksome being a creature designed by evil aliens!
"All of you, step back," I told the others with great anger. "Go far away, out of the room… because if I have been deceitfully led here by villainous poop-heads, I intend to find out once and for all. I am going to walk straight up to that fountain, and then I shall do something drastic. If I see a large button labeled DO NOT PRESS, I shall press it. If I see a big X scratched into the floor, I shall step on it with all my weight. If the trees come alive and attempt to stuff poisonous mini-chilis down my throat, I shall beat them to death with their own branches. The one thing I shall not do is dally in forlorn uncertainty, wondering if I am another creature’s dupe. If something is going to happen, I shall make it happen now."
The others all turned to Festina to see her response to my words. "Well," she said slowly, "there is some benefit in knowing where we stand… and maybe provoking a confrontation is better than wandering forever with no idea where the Shaddill are hiding."
"Sounds good," Uclod agreed. "No offense, missy," he said to me, "but if the bad guys have some hold over you, it’s better you do walk into a trap. I mean, the trap couldn’t be lethal, right? The League won’t let the Shaddill kill any of us. And if they’re playing games inside your head, they’ll bloody soon use you against us unless you’re taken out of the equation."
"That is the sort of logic one expects from a heartless criminal," I told him, "but it is logic all the same. Now depart to a safe distance… and we shall see if I can cause dramatic events."
Festina scowled a moment; then, slowly, she nodded. "All right. I don’t like it, but the Shaddill really can’t kill you, not out here in space. And maybe if you cause enough ruckus, one of the bastards will show up personally. That’s what we really want: someone we can talk to. The only way we’ll get out of this mess is peaceful negotiation… preferably while we hold a pistol to somebody’s head."
She turned and left the room. The others followed — with Lajoolie giving me a plaintive look before she disappeared. "I will be all right," I called to her. "I am practically unbreakable. And quick. And clever. And…"
But by then I was alone; and suddenly I felt less confident about my plan. It is one thing to speak bravely in front of others. It is quite a different thing to stand in solitude, staring at a room filled with dirt and wondering if this is the last sight you will ever see.
Tentatively, I took a step forward. No awful disaster happened.
Taking a deep breath, I counted to five. Then I strode briskly forward, straight toward the fountain.
A Fruit In The Fountain
The moment I passed between two of the mini-chili trees, something gurgled beneath the floor. I leapt back quickly, but nothing attacked. Feeling my heart pound, I waited; and I kept my eyes moving, frequently looking back over my shoulder to make sure nothing was creeping up on me from behind.