The point was made in the simplest terms.
“But this doesn’t explain why you pretend to be primitive snow apes,” Tael persisted.
The Gedemondan looked at her. “To entwine ourselves in the material equations is to lose that which we believe is of greater value. It is really too late for any of your cultures to comprehend this; you are too far along the Markovian path.”
“But you broke your act for us,” Hosuru pointed out. “Why?”
“The war and the engine mod, of course,” Vistaru said flatly, in a tone that indicated she thought her friend a total idiot.
But the Gedemondan shook his head from side to side. “No. It was to meet and speak with one of you, to try and understand the complexity of her equation and perceive its meaning and possible solution.”
Renard looked puzzled. “Mavra?” he asked quizzically.
The Gedemondan nodded. “And now that is done, although what can be added is beyond me right now. As to your silly, stupid, petty war and your spaceship, well, if you’re up to a short journey I think we will settle that now.” He got up, and they did the same, following him out. Another Gedemondan followed with their clothing; they wouldn’t need it in the warm caves, but it was obvious that they would not return to that room.
They were left in a junction area for a while, and their talkative guide left them. Soon they were joined by another Gedemondan—or was it the same one?—and they continued off. It was silent-treatment time again, regardless.
Later, after what seemed like several hours’ walk, they stood again before a stone wall and were helped getting their cold-weather gear on. Some kind Gedemondan had created a form-fitting fur coat with leggings for Mavra. She was amazed, and wondered how they could have done it in a night.
But it helped. The great door opened with a rumble and revealed a strange scene.
It was a great bowl; a U-shaped valley hung over it, and snow filled it deeply.
And, askew on a ledge, unmistakable even at that distance, was the engine module.
And now the guide spoke. It was a different voice, they thought, but with the same kindness and warmth.
“You spoke of power. Over there, just next to that little promontory there, your Ben Yulin and his associates now stand. We marked the trail as subtly as possible, and they almost lost it several times, but they managed to blunder through.”
They strained their eyes, but it was too far away.
Now the Gedemondan pointed to the opposite rim. “Up there,” he said, “stand Antor Trelig and his compatriots. Again, their journey was stage-managed so they arrived at their point within minutes of the other. Of course, neither party knows the other is there.”
The snow-creature turned back and stared at the engine module, marvelously intact and preserved, the remains of the great braking chutes still entwined in it.
“Thisis power,” said the Gedemondan, and pointed at the module.
There was a rumbling sound that shook the entire valley. Snow started to fall all around, and the engine module trembled, then started to move, slowly at first, then more rapidly, off the edge of the hanging valley.
It poised for an instant at the edge, then plunged over the side with a roar. But it didn’t just fall—it seemed to break apart, and there was a tremendous rumble and roar. Smoke and flames and white-hot billowing clouds erupted. The thing blew itself up on the way down, and, when it hit the snow below, the explosions continued, making the valley look like a minor volcano for several minutes. When the smoke and roar died away, the last of the echoes gone, there was only a melted, smouldering ruin in the snow, bubbling and hissing.
The Gedemondan nodded in satisfaction. “And so ends the war,” he said with a finality that was hard to deny.
“But if you could do this—why did you wait?” Vistaru asked, awed and a little frightened.
“It was necessary that all sides witness it,” the creature explained. “Otherwise they would never have accepted the truth.”
“All those dead people…” Renard murmured, thinking of his own experiences.
The Gedemondan nodded. “And thousands more now littering the plains. Perhaps this experience will save thousand more in times to come. War is the greatest of teachers, and not all of its lessons are bad. Their cost is just so terribly high.”
Mavra had a different thought. “Suppose the engine module hadn’t landed here,” she asked him. “What then?”
“You misunderstand,” replied the Gedemondan. “It landed here because it had to land here. It could land nowhere else.” He nodded, almost to himself. “A very simple equation,” he muttered.
They stood there a while in silence, stunned. Finally, Mavra asked, “What happens now? To us? To the warring powers?”
“The warring powers will pack up and go home,” the Gedemondan replied matter-of-factly.
“Trelig? Yulin?” Renard pressed.
“Are too devious to have been caught here,” the creature replied. “They will do as they always have done and act as they always have acted, until the time comes for their equations to solve. They are much entwined, those two, and with you, Renard, and you, Vistaru, and, most of all, with you, Mavra Chang.”
She let it pass. All this talk of her importance seemed ridiculous.
“And us?” she prodded. “What happens to us now? I mean, you’ve pretty well blown your cover, haven’t you?”
“Power is best used judiciously,” the Gedemondan replied. “A simple adjustment, really. You never were picked up by us. You followed an old trail that seemed recently used, and discovered this valley. Then you watched as the engine module destroyed itself, jarred perhaps by too many sounds echoing across the valley and hitting just the wrong points as it fell. Then you made your way east, into Dillia, to report. You never ever saw the mysterious Gedemondans.”
“That’s going to be a hard story to keep to,” she pointed out.
“But it is true,” the snow-creature told her. “Or, as far as your companions are concerned, it will be, the moment you cross into Dillia. We have picked up your pack and supplies and will provide them before you cross the border.”
“You mean,” Vistaru said, a little upset, “you’re going to make us forget all this?”
“All but her,” he replied, gesturing toward Mavra. “But she will get sick and tired of trying to convince you of all this fairly quickly.”
“Why me?” Mavra responded, still puzzled.
“We want you to remember,” the Gedemondan said seriously. “You see, while we developed here along these lines, our children out there in the stars did not. They are all dead now. All gone. The Gedemondans here may yet solve the Markovian problem, but they will never be in a position to implement that solution.”
“And I will?” she asked.
“The square root of minus two,” replied the Gedemondan.
South Zone
“But it just isn’t right,” Vardia, the Czillian, objected: “I mean, after all she did and tried to do.” It pointed a tendril at a photograph. “Look at her. A freak. A pretty human girl’s body, always facing head downward, supported by four mule’s legs. Not even able to look straight ahead. No protective hair or body fat. She’s so vulnerable! Eating like an animal, face pushed into a dish; eating food she can’t even prepare herself. She must have normal sexual urges, yet what will have her, from the ass-end at that? She almost has to wallow in her own excrement just to relieve herself. It’s awful! And so easy to cure. Just bring her here and send her through the Well Gate.”