He became aware of Quintus Bloom, peering over his shoulder. Though he would never have expected it, during the journey Nenda had revised upward his opinion of the scientist from Jerome’s World. The two men had much in common. For one thing, it seemed to suit Bloom as well as Nenda that the Gravitas had a minimal crew.
Nenda could follow Bloom’s logic. Fewer people, fewer candidates to share the credit for discoveries. Nenda and Atvar H’sial would not count, one being considered mere crew and the other a bloated and blind horror of an alien. Glenna, the only other person aboard, was a known Quintus-worshipper whose main job would be to hang on to him and record his every sacred word for their return to glory.
Beyond that, though, Nenda sensed something else about Quintus Bloom. Bloom would do anything, literally anything, to get ahead in his world. That world happened to be a different one from Nenda’s, with different rewards, but Louis could recognize and appreciate single-minded, ruthless drive. Bloom saw him as a nothing, a bug that you could use or step on, just as the need arose. But that worked both ways. To Nenda, Quintus Bloom was a man you had to kill with the first shot, or not fire the gun. If Louis controlled the Gravitas when it emerged from the Anfract, one person not to look for on board would be the honorable Quintus Bloom.
With Bloom’s personal drive and ambition came any amount of nerve. He was leaning impatiently forward and staring at the image of the Torvil Anfract. “Can’t you speed us up? Why is it taking so long to enter?”
What he meant was, “Darya Lang may be in there, making my discoveries. Take risks if you have to, but get me in.”
Nenda shrugged. He was just about ready to proceed, anyway. You could stare at the image of the Anfract until your eyes started to bleed, but once you were inside all the outside observations didn’t mean a thing. The Anfract was huge and vastly complex. It could have changed in a million ways, and no external observer would ever know it.
“You might want to strap yourself in, and I’ll announce it to the others. The ride last time was pretty hairy.”
It was a way to stop Bloom from breathing down his neck. It was also a perfectly true statement. Nenda, whose own ambitions did not guarantee a matching supply of nerve, held his breath as the Gravitas started to move faster and faster toward the boundary of the Anfract. He was directing it down a dark, starless corridor of supposedly empty space. Any surprise would be a nasty one. As the ship began to vibrate, with small, choppy surges, he cut back their speed.
“Problems?” Bloom, from a seat next to Louis, was finally showing a little uneasiness.
Nenda shook his head. “It’s a change in Planck scale. We may get macroscopic quantum effects. I’ll keep my eyes open, but let me know if anything seems unusual.”
It had happened before, and after the first time the anomalous was no longer terrifying. When it came, Nenda welcomed the quantum graininess of their environment as familiar, and therefore right. He was not upset when the Gravitas next appeared to be plunging straight for the photosphere of a blazing blue-white star. He explained to Bloom exactly what was going to happen. They would dive down almost to the boiling gaseous surface of the star, then jump at the last moment into a dark void.
They did.
Next they would find themselves in free fall, and lose all light and power on the ship.
They did.
And in just ten seconds or so, the power and lights and gravity would return.
They didn’t.
Nenda and Bloom sat side by side in silence as the seconds wore on. And on.
Finally, Bloom’s voice came in the darkness: “How long did you say before we have power again?”
“Just a few more seconds. What we’ve hit is called a hiatus. It won’t last. Ah!” A faint glimmer of light was appearing in the control room. “Here we go.”
Power was creeping back. The screens were again flickering toward normal status. An image appeared on the main display, showing space outside the Gravitas.
Nenda stared no less eagerly than Quintus Bloom. He put the ship into steady rotation, so that they could examine all directions in turn. He had expected them to be surrounded by the overall multilobed Anfract, and closer to them should be the nested annular singularities that shielded Genizee. If the earlier disappearance of those singularities was permanent, the ship would have a distant view of Genizee. They would be far enough away that the Zardalu inhabitants could do no harm.
Nenda kept his eye on the screen as the turning ship scanned the outside. There was no sign of the characteristic shimmering lobes of the Torvil Anfract — of any Anfract lobe. No nested annular singularities appeared anywhere on the display. Nothing remotely resembling a planet could be seen.
All the lights suddenly went out again. The murmur of the ship’s engines faded to nothing.
“Another hiatus?” Bloom was more irritated than alarmed. This time the ship’s rotation provided enough artificial gravity to prevent physical discomfort. “How many of these things are there?”
“Damned if I know.” Louis was more alarmed than irritated. “I only expected one.”
They waited, sitting in absolute darkness. Seconds stretched to minutes.
“Look, I’m in a big hurry. I’d have thought you would know that by now.” Bloom’s face was not visible, but his voice said it all. “You’d better get us out of here, Nenda — and quickly.”
Louis sighed, closed his eyes, and opened them again. Nothing had changed. For all he knew, the hiatus might last forever. Nothing he did to the ship’s controls could make any difference.
“Did you hear me?” Bloom spoke again from the darkness. “I said, get us out. If not, you can forget your pay.”
“I’m forgetting it already.” But Nenda kept that thought to himself. He stared hard at lots of black nothing, and wished that Genizee would appear ahead and the ship would drop him back among the Zardalu. At least you knew where you were with Zardalu.
Loss of pay seemed the least of his worries.
Chapter Sixteen
Darya hated the idea of slavery, but now and again she could see some advantage to being a slave. For one thing, you didn’t have to make decisions.
J’merlia and Kallik had followed her — and sometimes led her — to the middle of nowhere. Now, floating in the innermost chamber of Labyrinth, they were patiently waiting until she told them what to do next.
As if she knew.
Darya stared around at the flat walls of the hexagonal chamber, seeking inspiration in their bland, marbled faces.
“We made it here safely, which is exactly what we wanted.” (Think positive!) “But eventually we must find a good way to return to our ship, and then back into free space.”
The two aliens indicated agreement but did not speak.
“So you, J’merlia.” Darya cleared her throat to gain thinking time. “I’d like you to take another look at the way we came. See if there’s some way to reach another interior, one that’s easier to travel. And J’merlia!” — the Lo’tfian was already nodding and ready to go — “Don’t take risks!”