Not for Thermocline, though. He seemed faintly put out. "I am sure this human woman is well qualified," he said, not sounding sure at all, "but I also have asked an astronomical expert to join us here. Burnish? Do you concur?"
The other male Heechee flipped his wrists in assent. "I do, Thermocline."
"And can you tell us what star Wan was talking about?"
"I think so. It's probably the one called Planetless Very Large White Very Hot Star. It's what Dr. Ibarruru—" he gave a polite nod in her direction "—would call a young type-O star. We only brought one like it into the Core."
"And is it dangerous?"
His expression answered that, but he made it explicit. "My best-case estimate is that the release of gravity on Planetless Very Large White Very Hot Star would cause the loss of between ten and forty-four million lives, with another thirty to two hundred million suffering injury, property loss or severe environmental damage. It could be even worse."
That's when I raised my hand. Hypatia looked at me, one eyebrow lifted inquiringly. "Marcus, do you have a question?"
"I do indeed. This star's name tells us that it has no planets. Why would decohering it harm any other system?"
Hypatia looked at the female human astronomer, who sighed. "There we get into stellar physics. You know, I am sure, that the fusion processes which light a star take place at its center. The energy produced there is in the form of photons, and they are not immediately released to space. A star's interior is quite dense. Each photon is reflected by matter many times on its way to the surface, where it can be radiated into space. The time it takes for this journey is of the order of a million years."
She went on talking, but I had stopped listening because her meaning was clear. A million years' worth of energy, released in a matter of minutes, perhaps seconds.
I stopped her. "Thank you," I said. "There is only one real other question. What we are going to do to prevent it?" I was looking at Thermocline.
He gave a serious nod of his squared-off head. "Nothing," he said.
III
Since I am a reasonable being, I didn't shout at him. I didn't have to; others were already doing so, especially Sigfrid and the astronomers, all of whom were telling him he was making a mistake. Perhaps that is why I was the one he turned to. "Yes, Marc?" he said courteously. "Did you have something you wished to say?"
"Of course I do, Thermocline. It's simple. We have to locate the spacecraft Wan's message came from and destroy it."
He raised his bony hand. "Please, Marc. The Stored Minds have in fact already triangulated the source of his transmission. Unfortunately there is no detectable ship at that point."
That was surprising. "That's impossible. At least there should be ship-wakes—I know sorting them out might be difficult, because they persist for long periods, but they should give some indication."
He was waving those long fingers at me again. "Also done, Marcus. There is no detectable shipwake that could represent a conventional spacecraft at that point."
"Ah," I said. When he used the word "conventional" he gave the answer. "Wan's machine-stored, so he doesn't require a full-sized ship. A messenger torpedo would do."
"Exactly, Marc," he said, all but beaming at me. "Accordingly, let me summarize. We can take no action to protect the protohumans as long as Wan's threat is viable. We can do nothing about Wan as long as we can't locate him, nor do we have any weapons to deal with him if we did—"
It was my turn to interrupt. "We don't need conventional weapons. We could simply ram his torpedo."
He gave me a reproving sigh. "But not without giving him plenty of time to carry out his threat. Which the Stored Minds have determined we cannot afford to do."
Hypatia had been silent for a long time. Now she spoke up. "Then what are you going to do, Thermocline?"
This time the reproachful look went to her. "But I have answered that already, Hypatia. The Stored Minds have announced their decision. We will allow Wan to abduct the primitives. After that there is no reason to fear. As the Stored Minds have informed us, no sentient being would commit a violent crime after his demands were met. So we need do nothing."
For most of the company, that ended the matter. Not for me. I said (but only to myself, not aloud), "Dear old friend Thermocline, you still don't know humans very well."
19
Captivity
I
What amazed Stan the most was how fast things happened in Achiever's ship. Only a moment after they heard the ultimatum he felt that little quiver that, so Achiever told him, meant they were spaceborne again. Moments later the simulated female named Sindi Something-or-other popped up right in the middle of the four captives. "Hi," she said. "I thought you'd like to know that we're on our way to—what do you call it?—One Moon Planet of Pale Yellow Star Fourteen. It'll be an hour or so before we get there, so you could take a nap if you wanted to. See you later." She winked out of existence, only to reappear almost immediately. "Forgot to tell you. Until we get everybody on board, you all have to stay right here." And when she was gone this time, she stayed gone.
Stan opened his mouth, but all that came out at first was, "Jesus." Then he recollected himself. "What's she talking about? Where can we get to that fast?"
Achiever gave him a moody look. "Can get most places, Stan. Recall my statement, this spacecraft come from Outside. New. Speedy. What I mean, goes like hell." He stared at the wall for a moment, then added, "Meaning is, nobody can catch us."
Maybe on purpose, maybe just because this coven of hijackers were new and unskilled at their trade, they had left the lookplates alive. Achiever got them going, and they showed the spacecraft landing on the planet. Stan watched in silence, hand in Estrella's hand, until she gasped and pointed. "Look," she commanded. One of the screens was displaying a rabble of ragged-looking bipeds that somewhat, but not very much, resembled human beings. They were being shepherded by some angry-looking humans.
"The Old Ones?" Stan more asked than said.
Achiever confirmed it glumly. "Meaning of this is this Wan has succeeded in purpose."
"Does that mean now he'll let us go?"
"Oh, Stan," Achiever moaned. "How foolishly you speak. This Wan will not ever let us go, for why should he?"
Stan was stubborn. "Maybe it doesn't matter what Wan wants, since he isn't here."
"Ah, additional foolish words! He is. We observed on lookplate while you slept, small message craft rendezvousing with self's ship here. Could only have been boarding of this Wan."
Estrella gave him an angry look. "Why do you make everything sound so bad?" she demanded.
Achiever gave a long, hissy sigh, but didn't answer. He simply pointed. The protohumans were climbing aboard the ship docilely enough—shaggy, bearded elderly ones, shaggy, bearded young adults, even fairly shaggy and beginning to be bearded children. Gender did not seem to make a difference. Most of them were carrying some kind of belonging, sometimes a spare kilt, a floppy rag thing that might have been considered a doll, packets of CHON-food, now and then a stick, a rock or a fistful of limp grasses. Their handlers were all black, and a lot less compliant. Futilely so; Stan saw one man lingering toward the back of the flock and then suddenly whirling to run away. At the first stride he threw up his hands, falling a sprawl.