doomed to stay within, destined for different fates, both of them unpleasant.
He wondered, What do the aliens want with our Library? To check out some books and take ’em back home to read?
In fact, that bizarre notion made sense.
I’ll bet the rocket attack made ’em realize we have tricks up our sleeve. Suddenly they’re interested in what we know, and how we know it. They’ll scan our books to find out what other nasty surprises we might come up with.
Something was happening in the shadowed cave. Distant popping sounds carried across the river, doubtless from within the Hall of Science.
“They’re coming out!” the captain announced. His grip on the binoculars stiffened. “The rifle squads … they’re in retreat … dragging their wounded, trying to cover each other. They’re …”
He lowered the glasses. The officer’s eyes were bleak and he stood silently, completely overcome.
A corporal gently took the binoculars and resumed reporting.
“Dead,” was the first word she said.
“I see dead soldiers. They’re all down.”
A hush settled over the crowd. Across the Bibur nothing seemed to be moving anymore, except an occasional sharp-edged machine shape, flitting underneath the Fist of Stone.
The explosers… Nelo wondered. Why didn’t they set off their charges?
The greatest secret of the Six Races. The most secure fortress of humankind on Jijo. Biblos had been captured in a matter of duras. Its treasured archive lay in the tight grip of Jophur invaders.
Ewasx
IS IT SETTLED THEN, MY RINGS? HAVE WE ROOTED out the last corners of your clandestine resistance? Can we assume there will be no more episodes of surreptitious rebellion?
The Priest-Stack threatened to dismantle us/Me after the last embarrassment, when you silly rings foolishly/cleverly managed to perform a vlenning without your master torus knowing. The priest aimed to scrape every drip trail of waxy memory lining our core, seeking clues to the whereabouts of the pair of wolfling vermin you (briefly, mutinously) released into our glorious Polkjhy ship.
But then the stack in change of psychological tactics reported telemetry showing that Lark and Ling almost surely departed the ship when instruments showed an airlock hatch anomalously opening.
Humans are good with water. No doubt they imagined themselves safe after entering the lake, never suspecting that they were about to be swept downstream into a vortex of ruin when our majestic Polkjhy took off!
The droll appropriateness of this fate — the dramatic irony — so pleased the Captain-Leader that a ruling was made, overturning the Priest-Stack’s desire. For the time being, then, our/My union is safe.
DO NOT COUNT ON CONTINUED TEMPERANCE/FORGIVENESS, MY RINGS!
Forgiveness for what, you ask?
Now you worry Me. Is the shared wax so badly melted? Did the Asx personality so damage us, with its second attempt at suicide-by-amnesia? Must I provide memory of recent events through the demi-electronic processes of the master torus?
Very well, My rings, I shall do so. Then we will begin again, restoring the expertise that made us useful to the Jophur cause.
• • •
Together we watched while a party from our ship took possession of the so-called Library used by the savage Six Races. Though it contains a pathetically small amount of bit-equivalent data, this is the source/font of their wolfling trickery.
Feral scheming that has cost us dearly.
A fine thing happened when we/I caught sight of those crude buildings made from sliced trees, sheltered in an artificial cave. Many hidden waxy trails resonated with sudden recognition! Accessing these recovered tracks, we were able to tell the Captain-Leader many secrets of this trove of pseudo-knowledge. Secrets Asx had meant to render inaccessible.
Slowly, we regain our former reputation and esteem. Does that make you glad, My rings?
How gratifying to feel your agreement come so readily now! That brief rebellion, followed by a second suicide amnesia, appears to have left you more docile than before. No longer sovereign traeki rings, but parts of a greater whole.
Now regard! Leaving a force behind to secure Biblos, our Polkjhy turns to. its main task. Too long have we let ourselves be diverted/delayed. There will be no more negotiating with Rothen sneak thieves. No more dickering with savage races. Those six will meet their varied fates from land forces already scattered across the Slope.
As for Polkjhy, we cruise toward that continental cleft, that ocean abyss. Estimated locale of the dolphin ship.
IT IS DECIDED. THE ROTHEN HAD THE RIGHT IDEA, AFTER ALL.
We’ll bombard the depths, putting the fugitive Earthlings in peril. To preserve their lives, they will have no choice but to rise up and surrender.
Until now, the Captain-Leader preferred patience over rash action. We did not want to destroy the very thing we seek! Not before learning its secrets. Since no competing clan or fleet has come to Jijo, we appeared to have a wealth of time.
But that was before we lost both corvettes. Before postponements stretched on and on.
Now we are resolved to take the chance!
With depth bombs ready in great store, we plunge toward the zone known as the Rift.
WHAT IS THIS? ALREADY?
DETECTORS BLARE.
IN THE WATERS AHEAD OF US — MOTION!
Joyous hunt lust fills the bridge. It must be the prey, giving away their location as they scurry in search of a new hiding place.
Then remote perceptors cry out upsetting news.
No single ship is making the vibrations we detect.
THERE ARE SCORES OF EMISSION SITES … HUNDREDS!
Sara
EMERSON SEEMED CHEERFUL DURING THE LONG ride down from Mount Guenn, pressing his face against the warped window of the little tram, gazing at the sea.
How would he feel if he knew whom we were meeting? Sara wondered as the car zoomed down ancient lava flows, swifter than a galloping urs.
Would he be ecstatic, or try to jump out and flee?
Far below, a myriad bright sun glints stretched from the surf line all the way to a cloud-fringed western horizon. Jijo’s waters seemed placid, but Sara still felt daunted by the sight. A mere one percent ripple in that vastness would erase every tree and settlement along the coast. The ocean’s constancy proved the ample goodness of this life world — a nursery of species.
I always hoped to see this, before my bones went to the Midden as dross. I just never figured I’d come by horseback, across the Spectral Flow, over a volcano … and finally by fabulous cable car, all toward confronting creatures out of legend.
Sara felt energized, despite the fact that nobody on Mount Guenn had slept much lately.
Uriel had finished using her analog computer barely in time. Just miduras after sending the ballistics calculations north, semaphore operators reported breathless news about the consequences.
Stunning rocket victories.
Discouraging rocket failures.