As soon as they saw the blue light, they doused their suit lamps.
"The crunch stops here," Lars added as he strode on to the smooth surface of the cavern."I don't think it's retracted further, Killa.What d'you think?"
"Hmm.We should have thought to mark it.We can reach this far tip…" She took out a sample as she made her way across."Copper, Bren," she said.Using forceps and stretched at full length upward, she laid the copper on the surface.Then she yanked her arm back."Muhlah!Talk about hungry.And see, Lars, there's a definite pulse that's copper-toned running all the way back to the hub.Fascinating…"
By the time they had exhausted the contents of their sacks, the Junk had accepted every single offering, the metallic ones with noticeable alacrity and reaction.
"Omnivorous."
"Not grateful though," Killa added."Not so much as a centimeter has it expanded.Humpf."
Lars regarded the central mass."No, but I think it's brighter.Should we see if any of the others are more receptive?"
She was standing in a pose of thoughtfulness, one arm across her chest, propping the elbow of the gloved hand supporting the tilt of her helmet."I'm thinking!"
"Are you?"
"And what are you thinking?"Brendan asked.
Killashandra began slowly, formulating her thoughts as she spoke."I think we ought to return the piece we took.I don't think we ought to carve up the Junk."
Lars regarded her for a long moment."You know, I think you're right.That should put us in their good… gravel?dust?"
"Cinder?"Killa offered coyly.
"Well, we'll just do that wee thing then.Especially as it isn't doing us a blind bit of good as a specimen."
"Which reminds me.When we excised that bit of stalactite, there was that shaking.Was that just a tremor, or an incredibly rapid beat of some kind?"
"A percussive-type signal?"Lars asked.
"Ah, like some primitive groups who wished to make long-distance communications," the ship said."I'll analyze.Never thought of that."There was a pause during which lights and flicks of messages crossed the main control screen.
"Ah, indeed!Spot-on, Killa.The tremor does indeed parse into a variety of infinitesimal pulses of varying length."
"We need some drumsticks, Bren," Killa said, grinning at Lars.
He put his hands on his hips in an attitude of exasperation."Neither of us could rap that fast."
"So we'll be largo, but it'll be a beat.We can at least use rhythm to see if we'd get any sort of response.Open some sort of a communications channel to this intelligence."
"Intelligence?The retreat could be no more than a basic survival impulse."
"Impulse is the word," Bren said."I have no wood in my stores, but would plastic do?"
"Anything strong enough to beat out a pulse… Maybe we can get an 'in' to our Junk."
Lars groaned at her whimsy, but he was quite ready to return to the ship and take delivery of two pairs of taper-ended plastic lengths.He gave Killa one pair and, with the other, practiced a roll on the bulkhead of the airlock.
"A little ragged," she said.
"Who's had time to practice for the last seventy years?"
Killashandra frowned in surprise that Lars would even mention a time span.Most singers ignored time references.Seventy years?Since they had been singing duet?Or since they had last done much instrumentalizing?She really didn't want to know which.Unlike herself, Lars often input material to his private file.And after a session in the Ranges, he also accessed his file.She couldn't remember when she had thought to add anything to hers.She shook her head, not wanting to think about that.She had far more important things to do than worry about relative time-it was rhythmic time she had to play with right now.
"We are armed and ready," she said flippantly, holding the sticks under her nose as she had seen ceremonial drummers do on some old tape clip."Front and center, and forward into the fray."
" 'We go, we go,' " Lars sang out.
Long-forgotten neurons rubbed together properly, and Killashandra came out with the beginning of that chorus, altering it slightly to suit their circumstances." 'Go, we heroes, go to glory/we shall live in song and story…' "
" 'Yes, but you don't go!' "And Brendan's baritone entered the chorus.
" 'We go!We go!' "Lars toggled the airlock to open, awkwardly hanging on to his drumsticks as he resettled his helmet.Killashandra fastened hers.
" 'Yes, onward to the foe!' " sang Brendan melodiously.
" 'We go!We go!' "
And then the airlock completed its cycle and they could go back out into the darkness of Opal.They marched into the nearest of the Junk caves and came to a militarily abrupt halt.
"All right, Ki," Lars said, "where-and what-do we beat?"
"Let's see if we can get its attention.Do we both happen to know a ceremonial roll?"
"I do."Lars proceeded to beat it out.
"Show-off.Now, let's do it together."They did, heads up to see if there was any reaction in the Junk.
"I think you got through," Brendan said."A hemi-semi-demiquaver of a response, but definitely just after your roll duet."
Lars grinned drolly at Killashandra."Having said that, what do we say next?"
"Howdy?"
Hunger drove them from the cave, and once they got back into the B amp;B, sheer fatigue required them to stay.They had beat every tempo they knew, with all the power in their arms, until their muscles had protested.Brendan kept reporting reaction, and once or twice, a repeat-at a much faster speed-of what the two crystal singers had just tapped out.Other patterns of response made no sense to Brendan.But as Killa and Lars reboarded the ship, he told them that he was trying to figure out any code, or pattern, in the Junk's response to their rolls.When he started to tell them, they begged a reprieve.
"Save it, will you, Bren?"Lars said, an edge to his voice.
"Sorry about that.You've seemed indefatigable.I was beginning to think you were crystal analogues.You have, after all, only been on the go today for twenty-seven hours.I'll reprise after you've had some sleep.And I mean, sleep."
"Wicked little man," Killashandra said, struggling out of her suit and tiredly cramming it into the cleanser.Lars had to prop himself up against the wall to balance while he pulled off his suit.
As she stumbled into the main cabin, she yawned, feeling those twenty-seven hours in every sinew in her body-and especially in her weary hands."I'm almost too tired to eat," she said, but roused herself when the aromas of the feast Brendan prepared wafted through the main cabin.
"I'm never too tired to eat during Passover," Lars announced, and picked up the biggest bowl.He half collapsed into the chair, then settled back with a plate on his chest so he didn't have so far to reach to get food into his mouth."Can you analyze any particular response from the Junk?"
"In all the caves, it has stopped retreating," Brendan said."And while I do perceive a definite pattern in the rhythm of its tremors, that's the problem.You could never rap fast enough to 'speak' to them, and they can't seem to slow down enough to 'speak' to you."
"How about us recording something, and you play it back at their tempo, Bren?"Killa asked."Use one of your extendable tools to hammer the message home?"
Lars tipped respectful fingers in her direction for that notion."Yeah, but what exactly are we trying to tell them?"
Killa shrugged, her mouth too full to answer just then.She swallowed."We're singers, not semanticists.I think we've done very well!"
"I concur," Brendan added stoutly."There are specialists who could handle it from here, now you've established an avenue."
"Yeah, but what about the disease?"
"The specialists do not need to exit their vehicle.I've just monitored the dust your suits left in the cleanser's filters.I can find no contaminants.So the planet must be safe enough.Remember, the geologists had that specimen on board to examine, and I doubt they thought of keeping it shielded."