Claudius subsided. At last Louis was able to concentrate on the scene below and could again send pheromonal messages about it to Atvar H’sial.
“We might as well go the distance and make a full circuit of the planet, but I’m not optimistic. The cold hemisphere is as bleak and bare as Archimedes said. The sun provides a fair amount of light, but only a dribble of heat.”
“High civilizations have thrived on worlds colder than this.”
“They have. I suspect they did here. But the Marglotta were right to be scared enough to call out for help. Something came along, and it zapped them. Question is, is it on the surface now, still doin’ its thing?”
“I would suggest that whatever malevolent influence was present, it is, for the time being at least, somewhat inactive. I assume that the suit signals from the surface continue to indicate living occupants?”
“They do, though Ben Blesh ain’t in good shape. Hold on a minute, At. We’re approaching one of the major boundaries. We are still on the daylight side, but we’re near the edge of the cold hemisphere. I think I see open water below us—an’ greenery. Maybe I ought to take us down as soon as we get where the surface is a bit warmer. If we’re going to do that we should act pretty quick, because in another hour of flight we’ll be at the day/night divider.”
“Take us lower, Louis, but land only if you observe one of the structures noted by Archimedes as possibly indicative of a city or an industrial site.”
“I don’t need to look for one. We took every location that Archimedes spotted and stuck ’em in the pinnace navigation system. There’s a place about two hundred kilometers ahead and almost on our flight path.”
“Then we should indeed take a look. And if you are able to descend to the surface so that we may exit this craft, I personally will, in truth, actually be able to look with my own sensory apparatus.”
“An open suit?”
“Unless you note clear evidence of danger, that is a risk which I am willing to undertake.”
The comment confirmed it in Louis’s mind. Atvar H’sial was as averse to unnecessary risks as he was, but she was going stir crazy. They had been cooped up in a confined environment for far too long—ever since the arrival of the summons to Miranda when they were working on Xerarchos. That felt like a million years ago.
“Hold it in a bit longer, At. I’ll have us on the ground in twenty minutes.”
Having said that, Nenda was still not ready to take risks. He reduced their height and speed in the final ten kilometers, and when their target was in sight he flew a slow circle all around it.
What he could see was unimpressive. Seven broad gray strips—roads, or rail lines—converged. Where they met, and for about half a kilometer around that point, a narrower grid of intersecting strips formed a ruled pattern on the surface. All the gray strips were dotted with dark, rectangular objects, scores of them. They looked to Louis to be about the right size to be ground cars, but he didn’t want to tilt Atvar H’sial’s opinion before she’d had a chance to make her own assessment. Louis could see no sign of buildings or of people. The only thing that moved in the whole silent scene was some kind of flag or banner, fluttering in the breeze at the top of a tall metallic spindle marking the meeting of the seven roads.
“See anything to worry about?” Louis said over his shoulder to Sinara and Claudius; and, at her silence and the Polypheme’s disdainful grunt, “Right, then. I’m taking us in.”
He dropped the pinnace onto one of the wide gray roads, about fifty meters from the central flagpole. When after a few minutes of silent observation neither the pinnace’s instruments nor its occupants saw or heard anything, Louis opened the hatch and stepped outside.
The final descent had been made with all suits closed, but his suit’s monitors showed an acceptable atmosphere and no ambient toxins. He waved to Atvar H’sial and said over his suit radio, “All right. Anybody who wants out for a while should do it now.”
Sinara was by his side in a moment, the faceplate of her suit already open. Atvar H’sial followed more slowly, setting in motion the complex set of servo-mechanisms that rolled back the head part of her suit. The two-meter fronded antennas slowly unfolded, while the twin yellow trumpetlike horns below them turned to take in the scene ahead. The pheromones that wafted across to Louis were wordless, but they expressed pure bliss.
Louis set out toward the nearest of the blocky objects that stood on the road. Sinara danced on ahead of him. By the time he reached her she had already opened a door at its front.
“It’s a vehicle, Louis.” For once her voice was not bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Marglottas inside it—dead. Just like the ones in the ship on Miranda. But it’s the same as there, not a sign of what killed them. They look as if they should be perfectly fine.”
Atvar H’sial had moved more slowly along the road, making her own careful observations. She said as she came to their side, “The resemblance between these deaths and the deaths on the ship that came to Miranda go beyond the superficial. When first we had an opportunity to examine those bodies, we all remarked on their exceptionally well-preserved condition. They were dead, but in a sense, like these creatures, they were more than dead.”
“At, I don’t know about Cecropians, but with humans being dead is sorta like being pregnant. Either you are or you aren’t. There’s no in-between.”
“I will define my terms more closely. When a creature dies, be it human, Cecropian, or any other form known to me, the life of the organism, considered as a single unit, ends. However, this does not at once imply the death of the multitude of microorganisms that reside within it or upon it. Their activity continues for a period, largely unaffected by the fate of their host. Were you, Louis, to expire at this very moment, the bacteria of your intestinal tract, to name but one example, would persist in their activity. When you die your body will begin to rot, to putrefy, to bloat, and to transform itself into a mass of reeking and putrescent flesh.”
“Thanks, At. It’s real nice to have somethin’ to look forward to.”
“The same would be just as true of me, Louis, or of your female here.”
Louis had been summarizing Atvar H’sial’s thoughts in words for Sinara’s benefit. He edited the final phrase—she had enough ideas on that already.
The Cecropian continued, “Yet this process of internal decay had not happened to the Marglotta who arrived at Miranda, nor to the Chism Polypheme who flew that ship. Nor is it true for these beings.” Atvar H’sial waved a paw. “In order for the mummification which we observe here to occur, all life processes, external and internal, at the total organism level and at the bacterial level, must cease together. All die.”
“How could that happen?”
“I do not know. But I am able to confirm that it is true. My ultrasonics permit me to look inside these bodies. No form of life, even at the microbial level, is present within them. But at the same time, plant life here flourishes.” The Cecropian pointed to the low greenery that separated the gray roads, and to the ugly gray cactus growths that popped up here and there among it.
“D’you think it’s like this all over Marglot?”
“That remains to be confirmed. First, however, we should determine if what we find for the Marglotta in this car is equally true for those in the city.”
Louis stared at Atvar H’sial, then turned to survey everything around them. Far off in the direction of the day-night terminator, a line of hills jutted on the skyline. A ragged edge to their outline suggested more ugly cactus growths, encouraged to enormity by the higher altitude. Everywhere else displayed the level gray of roads or a tangled mass of green that clung close to the ground.