Nenda glared at Hans Rebka as E.C. Tally droned on. “Can’t you stop him? He has twelve hundred to go.”
“Why bother? It’s keeping him out of trouble.” Rebka glared right back. “Still want to start something?”
“Love to. But right now it’s a luxury I can’t afford.” Nenda took four steps backward, out of distance for easy action. “I need to find Darya Lang, and you can’t tell me where she is. So I’ll have to work it out for myself. And wasting time fussin’ with you won’t help me. I’m going.”
At the door to the lab he turned for a final scowl. “Have fun on Paradox, you and the dumb dinglebrain. Who knows, maybe I’ll see you both there. But I hope not.”
Rebka returned the snarl. “Go to hell.”
“Fambezux, 0.0015,” intoned E.C. Tally.
“And the same to you,” growled Louis Nenda.
Chapter Ten
Less than one year ago, Darya Lang had been a quiet and dedicated research scientist at the Artifact Institute. She had never in her life left the solar system containing Sentinel and Sentinel Gate. The production of successive editions of the Lang Catalog was the high spot of her existence.
Then came the trip to the Dobelle system. That had started her whole strange odyssey, to Quake, to Glister, to Serenity, on to the Torvil Anfract and Genizee, and at last back home.
All that, in less than one year. Now it was hard for Darya, seeing herself as a hardened and sophisticated traveler through the farthest reaches of the spiral arm, to believe that the quiet research worker had ever existed.
But sometimes she had direct proof that her new experience was very recent — and very limited.
Darya studied the Bose Network and plotted out a series of transitions to take their ship, the Myosotis, from Sentinel to Labyrinth by way of Jerome’s World. It took many hours of careful work, but she was rather proud of the result. As she was transferring the file to another data base from which the sequence could be executed, Kallik happened to see what she was doing.
“With respect.” The little Hymenopt bobbed her dark head. “Is this by any chance your first experience using the Bose Network?”
“I’ve used it before, but this is my first opportunity to plan my own sequence of transitions.”
Kallik was studying the file closely. Darya waited, expecting words of appreciation. Instead Kallik hissed, whistled, and said, “Excuse me. But is it permitted that I examine the energy budget associated with one or two of these nodes?”
“Of course.”
Kallik made a copy of the file and retreated to her own terminal, one more suited for a being with eight polydactyl limbs. After a few minutes she transferred another file to Darya’s terminal. It came without a word of comment, but Darya saw at once that it was an alternative path through the Bose Network. She listed the transit time. It was less than half of hers.
She displayed the energy budget. It was less than a quarter of hers.
“Kallik. How did you do that?”
The Hymenopt inclined her head. “With respect, Professor Lang, great intellectual power, even at the level that you possess it, is not always a substitute for humble practical experience. In service to Master Nenda, I employed the Bose Network many, many times.”
It was as close as Louis Nenda’s former slave would ever get to telling a human that she was an ignoramus and had blown the whole Network computation. Darya took Kallik’s travel plan and prepared to put it into effect.
The journey would involve a peculiar mixture of subluminal and superluminal components. That, in turn, called for the Bose Drive and the standard drive to be used in sequence, sometimes with odd delays or advance power delivery.
Darya pondered the first jump, her hands poised above the keyboard. She was wondering where to set the subluminal break-point when she became aware of J’merlia hovering at her shoulder. The Lo’tfian’s eyestalks were fully extended in different directions, so that he could monitor both keyboards and displays.
“With respect.” J’merlia reached around Darya with four sticklike limbs. Hard digits rattled against the keys, far too fast to follow. When they withdrew a few seconds later, Darya saw that ship commands had been provided for every stage of the journey of the Myosotis from Sentinel to Labyrinth.
She didn’t bother to ask how J’merlia had done it. She didn’t want to hear again that the job called for no real talent, just a little experience. Instead she retreated to her cabin, aware that she had become a supernumerary on her own ship.
Where next would her skills be found deficient? Darya did not know, but a voice in her ear kept reminding her that in all previous leaps into the unknown (like the coming exploration of Labyrinth) she had benefited from the skill and long-time trouble-shooting experience of Hans Rebka — Rebka, the rotten, faithless, lecherous, Phemus Circle swine.
She went back to where J’merlia was sitting in the pilot’s seat.
“Can you set up a superluminal circuit with Sentinel Gate?”
“Certainly. It will be expensive, because it must employ three Bose nodes.”
“Never mind that. I want to talk to Hans Rebka.”
“Very good.” Instead of beginning his task, J’merlia hesitated.
“What do you want?” Darya had dealt with him long enough to know that a pause like this usually meant a request that he was diffident in making.
“When you talk to Captain Rebka, Kallik and I would appreciate it if you would ask him a question from us.”
“Of course.”
“Would you please ask him, just why did he instruct us to seek you out at the spaceport, and accompany you on this trip? We have pondered this question, but have been unable to answer it. We are of course supposed to protect you, but from what? We are uncomfortable when we are not sure that we are correctly interpreting a command.”
“I’ll ask him.” Protect her, that irritating word again! He must think she was too stupid and naive to look after herself. “You bet I’ll ask him, the superior bastard. Get me that circuit!”
The connection took a while to set up. Darya sat and seethed. Finally it came, and she found herself staring at the face of a near-stranger, a communications operator at the institute.
“I wanted to talk to Hans Rebka.”
The head on the screen nodded. “I know. But we can’t do it, that’s why the call was passed through to me.”
“Has something happened to him?” Darya’s anger was suddenly touched with worry.
“Not so far as we know. He’s all right. But he’s gone. He left the institute this morning.”
“Damn that man. Did he say where he was going?”
“Not to me. But an embodied computer, E. Crimson Tally, left with him. And Tally told me they were going to explore an artifact called Paradox. Are you feeling all right?” The operator had seen Darya’s expression. “Can I connect you with someone else?”
In a way, the disappearance of Hans Rebka made everything simpler. Darya was on her own.
Hans had told her, more than once, “People talk about the game of life. But if it’s a game, it’s nothing like poker. In life you can’t turn back cards you don’t like and hope you’ll be given better ones. You play the hand that’s dealt, and you do your best to win with it.”
Hans hadn’t mentioned the stakes, but in his own case it had often been his life, and the lives of everyone with him. Darya wasn’t sure what the stakes were this time. At the most trivial level, it was her own self-esteem and reputation. Beyond that, it could be anything from the future of the Artifact Institute, up to the future of the spiral arm.