For Love and Glory

“Doesn’t all intelligence have at least one thing in common? Namely, intelligence. Not that ours is in that league, but—Dzesi interrupted fiercely. “We shall not humble ourselves!”

“N-no. I’m not working on an inferiority complex, nor should anybody. But, still—”

“Does advanced technology bring greatness of spirit?”

“I dunno. You’ve got a point, however. Yeah, an excellent point, old chum. Stick around awhile and we may find out.”

If we can stay alive, thought Lissa. Her verve chilled as she remembered the warcraft hovering watchful above the southern horizon. The tide of weariness flowed higher.

“To get back to a point I was making,” Hebo said, “I suspect the Forerunners aren’t especially interested in our little black holes anymore.”

Dzesi seldom repeated herself. “What, this unique event?”

“I suppose, way back when they were visiting hereabouts and saw what was going to happen, they knew less than they’ve discovered since. So they made arrangements here for observing it. Now they may as well let the equipment run. However, I kind of doubt they’ll collect any data that surprise them, these days.”

Lissa stared again out at the incredible structures on the horizon. “Another abandoned relic?” she whispered.

“Oh, not quite,” Hebo judged. “And Earth’s people are interested. Enough to build the guardian—maybe with some gadgetry aboard that the Forerunners taught them about—and station it.” He sighed. “Of course, they may just want to preserve it as an archeological specimen.”

“Or keep us from learning things they don’t think we should know,” Lissa added.

Dzesi bared teeth. “We will decide that,” she vowed.

“Let’s hope so,” Hebo said flatly.

Lissa gazed upward, as if through the blank overhead into space. “Haven’t these ideas occurred to the Susaians?”

“Or to friend Esker, by now. I expect so. It probably won’t change their course.”

“Must we indeed do their seeking for them?” snarled Dzesi.

“For everybody,” Lissa said. Perhaps, she thought through the waves of exhaustion. But should we? Who can tell?

“Let’s hope for that too,” Hebo said. He rose. “Well, we’d better get some sleep, no? Then a bite to eat, and then go ahead.” His own voice was muted by his own conquering tiredness. Yet a clang remained in it, an answer to a challenge. Only his gaze on Lissa was anxious.

L

The sun in its slow course was not yet at noon when they ventured out. There was no need to leave a watch aboard. Hulda could do that herself, and respond to their radio voices, while three together stood a better chance than one or two. They went afoot in power-jointed spacesuits. Jetpacks would have been too bulky for them to carry much in the way of instruments, recorders, and other apparatus, and unlikely to give any critical advantage in an emergency. Even in this gravity, they were rather heavily loaded.

The burden included weapons, sidearms for all, a light electric rifle for Lissa, a high-caliber one for Hebo, and the portable missile launcher with its rack of explosive darts for Dzesi. Their one hope was that none would be needed or, if worst came to worst, some would be of use.

Hebo spoke for them to Authority: “We’re on our way.”

“That is well for you,” replied Ironbright. “Remember that you will be judged by your results.” The transmission lag was barely perceptible.

Hebo’s face hardened behind the viewplate. “Don’t you forget that they know on Asborg we’re here. You’ll be judged too.”

“Do not waste time quibbling.”

“Then don’t you waste it by trying to manage our mission.”

“Not unless that appears necessary,” Ironbright agreed. “We have you under constant observation with good resolution. We scan considerably farther than you can see. If we detect something anomalous, you will be informed.”

“Thanks,” snorted Hebo, and switched off spaceward transmission while leaving reception open.

The three walked on. They could not hear the tenuous wind, merely see dust drifting before it across rock, sand, strewn boulders, now and then a frost-blanket in the shade. As the sun climbed and shone down where shadow had been, gases began to steam from these, white wisps quickly scattered and lost. Insulated boots muffled footfalls, but Lissa sensed them faintly through her bones.

After a silent while, Hebo said, “If we get out of this alive— no, God damn it, when we do—how do you figure you’ll spend your discoverers’ awards and royalties and whatever else they pay us? Ought to make us filthy rich.”

“I will return home and fare again with my Ulas Trek, a chieftain,” Dzesi answered. Lissa thought she heard an undertone of longing.

“I’ll rest and revel on Asborg till I’ve had enough, whenever that may be,” she herself said as cheerfully as she was able. “Oh, and we must make proper arrangements about Venusberg and so on, but that should be simple.”

“What then?” Hebo pursued.

“How can I say? There’ll be something interesting for certain. What of you?”

“I dunno either. I need a long vacation too, and can’t imagine a better place for it than Asborg. Later, yeah, who knows?” He paused before going on, unwontedly awkwardly: “Would you, uh, like to continue this partnership?”

The question, not unexpected, nevertheless kindled a flare of happiness. “Yes,” she replied. “Indefinitely. Maybe for always. We’ll see.” Brazenly indifferent to Dzesi’s presence: “Once we’re back in the ship and out of these suits, I’ll show you. Save your strength, big boy!”

His glove gripped hers, his laugh rang. “I’ll never have anything better to spend it on.”

Joy and lust blew away like the ice vapors. Awe mounted. They were nearing the Forerunner work.

First they passed through the shimmering. It was like going two or three meters in a bright haze; then they were beyond, inside, and vision cleared.

Delicate intricacies loomed high over them. The flat-fused ground below and between sheened darkly in the harsh light. Lesser things, some so small as to be scarcely more than sparks, were spread well apart in a kind of spiraling pattern. Machines went to and fro on their tasks; a broad radio band whirred, clicked, whistled with their communications. Most of these robots ranged in length from a few centimeters to perhaps one meter, bodies slender and rounded, scurrying on legs or wheels or whatever it might be underneath their beetle-like shells—until they extruded antennae, arms, tentacles that flowed themselves into unidentifiable tool-shapes. Twice the explorers spied Gargantuan-sized hulks moving with stately slowness. What they carried out was impossible to understand, except that it had to do with operation, maintenance, and further construction. On several helical towers and polygonal skeletons, machines climbing about aloft spun gleaming webs, almost like spiders. Another evidently shot forth a thin, invisible energy beam, for metal glowed and softened as it moved along, its manipulators dextrously shaping a structure, artistry alive. Another emerged from a closed dome, although no door opened for it, bearing a load of rods to still others, which carried them to the top of a half-finished spire. Others—

Step by tensed, cautious step, the newcomers advanced. The instruments on their backs extended and swiveled sensors, peered and listened through the whole spectrum, did not intrude with radar or sonar but surveyed and triangulated, micrometrically precise, a cataract of data pouring into their recorders. When a robot headed their way, they moved aside and it went on past. They spoke little among themselves, very softly.

Nothing happened to them. They searched through the complex on a zigzag route that brought them near most of it, seemingly altogether ignored.

Once Dzesi rasped, “Does it not, any part of it, have any awareness of us? Is it nothing but blind machinery?”