"We found a junked rig, just the cab, but very similar to yours," Carl interrupted. "Even had the same markings, same decals. "
"The owner of the wreck said the people who'd left it there hadn't looked anything like us, meaning they weren't human, of course," Roland said.
"The front rollers were in good shape," Carl went an, "so we bought 'em. Got a pretty goad deal, too, with Hokar advising us on protocol."
"Yes, the Nogon have strange rituals when it comes to bargaining," Roland elaborated. "You have to approach the seller on the pretext of wanting to buy everything he has to sell, at any price he chooses to set, and the seller in turn has to pretend that you couldn't possibly want any of the worthless junk he's got, no matter how low he's slashed the price."
"Traveling salesmen must have it easy here," I commented, reaching for a second helping of the delicious vegetable stew Darla had concocted out of the fresh produce Sean and Liam had brought along.
"As I said, it's all posturing. Pretty soon everyone's self-interest emerges crisp and clear, and then it's no holds barred."
"Sounds healthy," I said.
"Time consuming," Carl said. "Took an hour to close the deal"
I turned to Ragna, who was sipping thin gruel through a straw from a decorative ceramic bowl. "I take it haggling is a high art with your people."
Ragna stopped slurping, blinked his enormous pink eyes, then touched his blue headband, a biointerface gadget that was the closest thing to a universal translator I'd ever seen. It was merely a very-large-scale integration computer, but the software was powerful. However, my colloquialisms and abbreviated grammar gave it trouble now and then. Also, figurative speech gave the translation program headaches. But it was integrating our responses nicely.
"I am thinking that the haggling with my people is indeed, true, yes, a high or fine art, in the mode of hyperbole and colloquial exaggeration. In the literal or denotative mode, no, forget it, Charlie."
I suppressed a smile. "Ragna, your facility with the language improves daily. I must compliment you on it."
"Of course I am undubitably thanking you."
"I should think," John said, "you'll be able to doff that headband soon enough."
"Oh, yes, this is quite a possibility I am thinking. Even now, you may be seeing… " Gingerly, Ragna removed the flexible headband with both hands and laid it on the table. In a barely intelligible liquid slur, he said, "Unassisting brain capability speaking quite good, is it not? Is aiding the biological analogue to being able to function, learning is this not so to be speaking?"
"Eh?" John said.
"Interrogatory remark, what?" Ragna's thin white eyebrows lowered in puzzlement.
We persuaded Ragna to put the headband back on.
The remainder of the meal was devoted to chitchat. When we were all sitting back drinking beer and burping, Suzie looked gravely at me.
"What is it, Susan?" I said.
"Where do we go from here?"
"Good question." I fumed to Sean and Liam. "What've you guys come up with in the map department?"
"Damn little," Liam said, then nodded deferentially toward Ragna. "Of course Ragna and Hokar and the others have been very helpful. It's simply that none of the mazes we've had a look at seem familiar." He ran a hand through his mass of tousled blond hair, then sighed and pursed his lips. "We're bloody well lost all right."
I nodded. "Darla, can Winnie help us?"
Winnie, seated by Darla, looked sad as she munched the remains of her meal of shoots and leaves.
"Afraid not," Darla said. "I think it's clear now that Winnie's knowledge of the Skyway isn't all-encompassing. And she's not going to lead us back to the proper path by sheer psychic power."
"Well, I never expected her to," I said. "Roland, have we pinpointed where we are in the galaxy?"
"It was easy enough. The Ahgirr are about as advanced as we are in astronomy. Had a little trouble interpreting their maps, though…" Roland shifted his eyes toward Ragna, then looked up casually at the smooth rock ceiling of the cave.
I knew what he was implying. Every race does something badly; with the Ahgirr, it was cartography in particular, and graphics in general. I had seen their graphics on computer screens―plots and charts and such―and couldn't make head nor tail of them. You would think some symbology to be universal and cross-cultural. Wrong. Draw an arrow on a map for an alien, indicating which way he should go, and he'll say, Yes, that's very interesting. Whatever does it mean? The Ahgirr didn't know from arrows either. Their symbol for direction of motion, vectors, stuff like that, was a little circle at the beginning of the line. Interesting, but stupid. Of course, I'm human, therefore biased. It all made perfect sense to the Ahgirr, but we were having a hell of a time reading their roadmaps, both computer-generated and paper varieties. (In regard to arrows, I theorized that, since the Nogon had been cave dwellers for a good part of their recorded history, they hadn't invented the bow and arrow until very recently. Roland disagreed, contending that both the weapon and the arrow symbol were comparatively recent human inventions.)
"As nearly as we can ascertain," Roland went on, "we're well off Winnie's route, somewhere along the inner edge of the Orion arm. a want to go in the opposite direction."
"How far can we go in the right direction before we have to shoot a potluck?"
"About a thousand light-years, which works out to about ten thousand kilometers of road."
I clucked ruefully. "That's one hell of a lot of driving just to shoot a potluck. We might as well pick any old one and take our chances, since we're shit out of luck anyway."
Roland frowned. "I don't like the idea of wandering aimlessly. We could get hopelessly lost."
"What are we now?"
Roland shrugged. "True." He stared pensively at his empty plate for a moment, then banged his fist on the table beside it. "Damn. If we could only get something out of that Black Cube."
I looked at Ragna. "Have your scientists had any luck with it?"
Ragna eyed me dolefully. "Luck, I am afraid, we are also shit out of."
Again, everyone had trouble stifling a giggle.
"Howsoever on the other hand," Ragna went on, "we are slightly doubting that it is a map."
Raised eyebrows around the table, except for Roland's.
"What makes you doubt it?" John was first to ask.
Ragna made a clawing motion with the five digits of his right hand-an expression of frustration and regret. "Ah, my good friends, that I cannot be saying. I am not a scientist. I cannot be making you understand if on the one hand I am not understanding what they are saying on the other."
John narrowed his eyes momentarily, then nodded. "Oh, I see."
Ragna's status in the colony was roughly equivalent to that of a mayor, but his position wasn't official, so far as we could ascertain. He was simply an individual to whose judgment everyone deferred in matters of great importance. He didn't run for office, didn't rule by divine right. It was more an obligation on his part. Somebody has to drive.
"But I can be saying this," Ragna continued. "Our technical individuals are saying to me that there is something strange inside. Also, they say that nothing can be going into this Black Cube on the contrary, however, things can be coming out."
I said, "Can you tell us what they suspect is inside the Cube?"
Again, he made the clawing motion. "Ali, Jake, my friend, this is that which is difficult. They are saying that… that inside is a vastness of nothing." He blinked, milky nictitating membranes coming upward before his eyelids closed down. "But it is a nothing that they do not understand."
"I see."
Right.
A collective sigh at the table.
"Well," I said finally after a long moment, "what say we hit those maps and figure out something. Every maze seems to have legends or rumors concerning what's on the other side of its various potluck portals. With Ragna's help, maybe we can make a decision based on that."