Sinara came over to him and grasped his arm. “Ben is outside. We must go after him.”
“His message tells us just the opposite.” Louis was still reading. “Besides, we have no idea what he thinks he’s up to or where he might have gone.”
Darya said, “We don’t know what Ben is doing, but Hans has his suspicions.”
Rebka nodded. “I asked myself a couple of simple questions: What could Ben possibly hope to gain by going outside? And where could he go on the surface, with Marglot in its present condition? The answers are, nothing and nowhere. Most of the time Ben was here he was doped up, so he’s seen even less of the planet than we have—and that’s only about one square kilometer. But back in the middle of Iceworld, Guardian of Travel told us that a transport system would open now and again, to let us return there if we wanted to. I think Ben went outside to try to find it. He thinks he can use it to get back to the middle of Iceworld.”
Louis stared at Darya Lang and Hans Rebka. “An’ do what if he gets there? Things don’t look great for us, but his chances are better here than they would be on Iceworld. Does he imagine that Guardian of Travel will drop everythin’ an’ hustle on over to give us a hand? We don’t know much about what Builder constructs do, but we’ve learned a few of the things they don’t. They don’t leave places they’ve been sittin’ in for millions of years—’specially to help a bunch of recent arrivals like us.” He turned to Sinara. “As for us goin’ outside to look, that’s a bad idea. It’s colder than ever an’ the wind is startin’ up again. Hope I’m wrong, but we may be in for another storm.”
“And there are new potential troubles of quite a different kind.” Julian Graves had been listening in silence, but now he turned to E.C. Tally. “Tell them what you told me, just before we came in here.”
“It is the beetlebacks. Ever since I first encountered them, I have struggled to comprehend their meaning and their mission. This has been a frustrating task, but also a fascinating one. It appears as though there is a complete sharing of information. What one knows, all know. Long ago, I came to the conclusion from their speech that they had been placed on this world for a specific purpose. It is also clear that our arrival came as a total surprise to them. I conjectured that they operated on the assumption that Marglot would lack animal life of every kind. But what were the beetlebacks themselves supposed to do next? From the data available, extensive as that is, I was still unable to determine the nature or timing of that new act. However, it occurred to me that the sudden and surprising cooling of M-2, and hence of Marglot itself, might be a trigger. In the hope of confirming or denying this theory, one hour ago I tuned the equipment of the Have-It-All to the frequency employed by the beetlebacks. I hoped for at best a distant signal, provided perhaps by reflection from a high ionized atmospheric layer—although the weakness of incident radiation from the distant solar primary was not encouraging for the formation of such.”
Nenda glared at Julian Graves, who said, “I think, E.C., you might dispense with certain explanatory details.”
“At the risk of a possible reduced understanding? Very well, if you insist. What I discovered was not a weak signal, but a very strong one. It emanates from forty or fifty kilometers away, and is just one of several similar but weaker signals. Since we saw that the beetlebacks possess no means of ground or air transportation, I am led to another conjecture which I see no way to confirm. Colonies of beetlebacks were placed all over Marglot, before our arrival. Those on the warm hemisphere were completely quiescent until the precipitating event of M-2’s cooling. The beetlebacks thrive in a world of cold. They find cold essential to their very existence. This world, together with M-2 and the central star, are all headed toward cold extinction. We, as sources of heat, are now an anomaly on Marglot. The beetlebacks, judging from the changes in their radio signals, are heading this way, and I cannot believe that they come for the purpose of assuring our well-being. They are coming here to advance their cause. They are servants of the Masters of Cold.”
Masters of Cold? Louis wanted to burst out laughing, except that no one else showed that inclination—and he himself could feel the sudden chill in the pit of his belly.
Julian Graves turned to Darya Lang. “Not Voiders, Professor, or Destroyers. Masters of Cold, able through a variety of measures to draw out and banish heat wherever it may be found. To remove the warmth of animals, the latent heat of gases and liquids, even to end the phoenix reaction within the stars themselves.”
Darya had a sudden memory, a flashback to the surface of Iceworld. Lara Quistner, standing, screaming, crumbling from the feet up as implacable cold ascended her body . . .
“Humans,” she began.
“And not only humans.” Graves’s skeletal face was somber, and his misty blue eyes stared at some distant vision. “The evidence was there, even before we left Miranda. We remarked on the condition of the bodies of the Marglotta, and of the Chism Polypheme. How had they died? They were apparently unharmed. But at the microscopic level, cells were ruptured everywhere throughout their bodies. As they would burst, were they instantly and completely frozen. A small group of Marglotta sought to fly far from danger, and to seek help. But by the time they left Marglot it was already too late. The Masters of Cold, or more likely some non-corporeal servant form, were already on board that ship. When it reached Miranda, those cold forms had vanished without trace. But you were right, Professor Lang, and I was wrong. Another force is present in the galaxy, a force as powerful as the Builders themselves. The Masters of Cold are not builders; they are indeed destroyers.”
He added to Nenda, “Now it is more than ever vital that we escape from here, and carry this news back to our own Orion Arm. Meanwhile, I will seek to determine the current location of the beetlebacks. They pose an increasing threat.”
Graves swept out, accompanied by Tally, Darya Lang, and Sinara Bellstock. Louis was left staring at just Hans Rebka.
“What’s he think we’re doing? Sittin’ on our butts laughin’ an’ scratchin’?”
“He’s an ethicist, Darya is a theorist, Tally is a calculator, and Sinara is a trainee. This thing is up to you and me, Nenda—or would you rather rely on the rest of them?”
“Don’t try to scare me. I’m scared enough already. Got ideas?”
“You say we can fly atmospheric. Suppose we do that, get as high and as fast as we can, and then turn on the Have-It-All’s space drive. Might that do it?”
“Thought of that a long time ago, an’ Kallik checked it out. We won’t make it to space unless our mass is way down.”
“You trust Kallik’s answer?”
“Hell, no. Anybody can be wrong, even Kallik. But Atvar H’sial and E.C. Tally came up with the same result. We can get off the ground, but not off the planet. The jury is still out on how well we’d do with the ship stripped to the bare bones.”
“Suppose you were to fly atmospheric to the top speed you can reach, then dump those engines and switch to orbital thrustors.”
“It’s easy to see it’s my ship you’re tearin’ to bits, an’ not yours. But I looked at that, too. You can’t dismantle and dump the atmospheric engines without a crew outside the ship. If you want to be unscrewin’ nuts and bolts an’ strippin’ off engines while you’re hangin’ on the outside at Mach Two, be my guest. I put your chances of stayin’ there more than twenty seconds at one in a million.”
“You thought of it already.”
“I did. But keep comin’ up with them ideas. I just said anyone can be wrong, an’ I’m sure in the group.”