«Spare me the complete list,» Laure broke in. «Just say the noise level is too high for your instruments.»
«And for any instruments that I can extrapolate as buildable,» Jaccavrie replied. «The precision their filters would require seems greater than the laws of atomistics would allow.»
«What about your inertial system? Bollixed up, too?»
«It’s beginning to be. That’s why I asked you to come take a good look at what’s around us and what we’re headed into, while you listen to my report.» The robot was not built to know fear, but Laure wondered if she didn’t spring back to pedantry as a refuge: «Inertial navigation would work here at kinetic velocities. But we can’t traverse parsecs except under hyperdrive. Inertial and gravitational mass being identical, too rapid a change of gravitational potential will tend to cause uncontrollable precession and nutation. We can compensate for that in normal parts of space, but not here. With so many stars so closely packed, moving among each other on paths too complex for me to calculate, the variation rate is becoming too much.»
«In short,» Laure said slowly, «if we go deeper into this stuff, we’ll be flying blind.»
«Yes. Just as Makt did.»
«We can get out into clear space any time, can’t we? You can follow a more or less straight line till we emerge.»
«True. I don’t like the hazards. The cosmic ray background is increasing considerably.»
«You have screen fields.»
«But I’m considering the implications. Those particles have to originate somewhere. Magnetic acceleration will only account for a fraction of their intensity. Hence the rate of nova production in this cluster, and of supernovae in the recent past, must be enormous. This in turn indicates vast numbers of lesser bodies—neutron stars, rogue planets, large meteoroids, thick dust banks—things that might be undetectable before we blunder into them.»
Laure smiled at her unseen scanner. «If anything goes wrong, you’ll react fast,» he said. «You always do.»
«I can’t guarantee we won’t run into trouble I can’t deal with.»
«Can you estimate the odds on that for me?»
Jaccavrie was silent. The air sputtered and sibilated. Laure found his vision drowning in the starfog. He needed a minute to realize he had not been answered. «Well?» he said.
«The parameters are too uncertain.» Overtones had departed from her voice. «I can merely say that the probability of disaster is high in comparison to the value for travel through normal regions of the galaxy.»
«Oh, for chaos’ sake!» Laure’s laugh was uneasy. «That figure is almost too small to measure. We knew before we entered this nebula that we’d be taking a risk. Now what about coherent radiation from natural sources?»
«My judgment is that the risk is out of proportion to the gain,» Jaccavrie said. «At best, this is a place for scientific study. You’ve other work to do. Your basic—and dangerous—fantasy is that you can satisfy the emotional cravings of a few semibarbarians.»
Anger sprang up in Laure. He gave it cold shape: «My order was that you report on coherent radiation.»
Never before had he pulled the rank of his humanness on her.
She said like dead metaclass="underline" «I have detected some in the visible and short infrared, where certain types of star excite pseudoquasar processes in the surrounding gas. It is dissipated as fast as any other light.»
«The radio bands are clear?»
«Yes, of that type of wave, although—»
«Enough. We’ll proceed as before, toward the center of the cluster. Cut this view and connect me with Makt.»
The hazy suns vanished. Laure was alone in a metal compartment. He took a seat and glowered at the outercom screen before him. What had gotten into Jaccavrie, anyway? She’d been making her disapproval of this quest more and more obvious over the last few days. She wanted him to turn around, report to HQ, and leave the Kirkasanters there for whatever they might be able to make of themselves in a lifetime’s exile. Well… her judgments were always conditioned by the fact that she was a Ranger vessel, built for Ranger work. But couldn’t she see that his duty, as well as his desire, was to help Graydal’s people?
The screen flickered. The two ships were so differently designed that it was hard for them to stay in phase for any considerable time, and thus hard to receive the modulation imposed on space-pulses. After a while the image steadied to show a face. «I’ll switch you to Captain Demring,» the communications officer said at once. In his folk, such lack of ceremony was as revealing of strain as haggardness and dark-rimmed eyes.
The image wavered again and became the Old Man’s. He was in his cabin, which had direct audiovisual connections, and the background struck Laure anew with outlandishness. What history had brought forth the artistic conventions of that bright-colored, angular-figured tapestry? What song was being sung on the player, in what language, and on what scale? What was the symbolism behind the silver mask on the door?
Worn but indomitable, Demring looked forth and said, «Peace between us. What occasions this call?»
«You should know what I’ve learned,» Laure said. «Uh, can we make this a three-way with your navigator?»
«Why?» The question was machine steady.
«Well, that is, her duties—»
«She is to help carry out decisions,» Demring said. «She does not make them. At maximum, she can offer advice in discussion.» He waited before adding, with a thrust: «And you have been having a great deal of discussion already with my daughter, Ranger Laure.»
«No… I mean, yes, but—» The younger man rallied. He did have psych training to call upon, although its use had not yet become reflexive in him. «Captain,» he said, «Graydal has been helping me understand your ethos. Our two cultures have to see what each other’s basics are if they’re to cooperate, and that process begins right here, among these ships. Graydal can make things clearer to me, and I believe grasps my intent better, than anyone else of your crew.»
«Why is that?» Demring demanded.
Laure suppressed pique at his arrogance—he was her father—and attempted a smile. «Well, sir, we’ve gotten acquainted to a degree, she and I. We can drop formality and just be friends.»
«That is not necessarily desirable,» Demring said.
Laure recollected that, throughout the human species, sexual customs are among the most variable. And the most emotionally charged. He put himself inside Demring’s prejudices and said with what he hoped was the right slight note of indignation: «I assure you nothing improper has occurred.»
«No, no.» The Kirkasanter made a brusque, chopping gesture. «I trust her. And you, I am sure. Yet I must warn that close ties between members of radically different societies can prove disastrous to everyone involved.»
Laure might have sympathized as he thought, He’s afraid to let down his mask—is that why their art uses the motif so much!—but underneath, he is a father worrying about his little girl. He felt too harassed. First his computer, now this! He said coolly, «I don’t believe our cultures are that alien. They’re both rational-technological, which is a tremendous similarity to begin with. But haven’t we got off the subject? I wanted you to hear the findings this ship has made.»
Demring relaxed. The unhuman universe he could cope with. «Proceed at will, Ranger.»