Another silence stretched. Lark was about to talk some more about biology, when he realized that was exactly the wrong thing to do. What had earlier served to bridge an uncomfortable silence would now only maintain a reserve, a neutrality he did not want anymore. Awkwardly, he moved to change the subject.
“What kind of …” He swallowed and tried again. “I have a brother, and a sister. I may have mentioned them before. Do you have family … back at …”
He let the question hang, and for a moment Lark worried he had dredged a subject too painful and personal. But her relieved look showed Ling, too, wanted to move on.
“I had a baby brother,” she said. “And a share daughter, whose up-parents were very nice. I miss them all very much.”
For the next midura, Lark listened in confusion to the complex Danik way of life on far-off Poria Outpost. Mostly, he let Ling pour out her sadness, now that even her liberated crew mates were like aliens to her, and nothing would ever be the same.
Later, it seemed wholly natural to stretch his sleeping bag next to hers. Divided by layers of cloth and fluffy torg, their bodies shared warmth without touching. Yet, in his heart, Lark felt a comfort he had lacked till now.
She doesn’t hate me.
It was a good place to start.
The second dive seemed to go quicker, at first. They had a better knack for underwater travel now, though several human volunteers had to fill in for blue qheuens who were sick.
About the illness, recent word from topside was encouraging. The vaccine samples seemed to help the first few victims. Better yet, the molecules could be traeki-synthe-sized. Still, it was too soon for cheers. Even in the event of a complete cure, there were problems of distribution. Could cures reach all the far-flung communities before whole populations of qheuens and hoons were devastated?
Back at the Rothen ship, they found the airlock already occupied by crew members wearing diving gear — three humans and a Rothen — along with slim crates of supplies. Like wax figures, they stood immobile while Lark and Ling trained new assistants in the strange art they had learned the day before. Then it was time to begin making another tunnel through the golden time-stuff.
Again, they went through turnaround sweeps, letting those inside the hatch prepare. Again, volunteers swam close with mulc preservation beads that had been hollowed and turned into bottles for the special dissolving fluid. Once more, the actual act of embedding had to take place in a shroud of nescience, without anyone watching directly. Nothing happened the first few tries … until Jeni caught one of the new helpers peeking, out of curiosity. Despite watery resistance, she smacked him so hard the sound traveled as a sharp crack.
Finally, they got the hang of it. Six beads lay in place, at varying distances inside the barrier. As yesterday, Lark applied the “can opener,” turning on an ancient Buyur machine, which in turn pulled a wax plug, setting in motion a chain reaction to eat a gap through the viscous material. He backed up, fascinated again by creepy visions as the red foam spread and a cavity began to form.
Someone abruptly tapped his shoulder.
It was Jeni, the young militia sergeant, urgently holding a wax board.
WHERE IS RANN?
He blinked, then joined Ling in a shrug. The tall Danik leader had been nearby till a moment ago. Jeni’s expression was anguished. Lark wrote on his own board.
WE’RE NOT NEEDED NOW.
LING AND I WILL LOOK NORTH.
SEND OTHERS SOUTH, EAST.
YOU STAY.
Grudgingly, Jeni accepted the logic. Lark’s job was largely done. If the tunnel opened as planned, another batch of escapees would wriggle through and Jeni must coordinate moving them and their baggage back to the caves.
With a nod, Ling assented. They headed off together, kicking hard. United, they should be a match for Rann if he put up a fight. Anyway, where would the big man go? It wasn’t as if he had much choice, these days.
Still, Lark worried. With a head start, Rann might reach the lakeshore and make good an escape. He could cause mischief, or worse, be caught and questioned by the Jophur. Rann was tough, but how long could he hold out against Galactic interrogation techniques?
Ling caught his arm. Lark turned to follow her jabbing motion up toward the surface of the lake. There he saw a pair of flippers, waving slowly at the end of two strong legs.
What’s he doing up there? Lark wondered as they propelled after the absconded Danik. Getting close, they saw Rann had actually broached the surface! His head and shoulders were out of the water. Is he taking a look at the Jophur ship? We all want to, but no one dared.
Lark felt acutely the shadow of the giant vessel as they kicked upward. For the first time, he got a sense of its roughly globular shape and mammoth dimensions, completely blocking the narrow Festival Glade, creating this lake with its bulk. Having grown up next to a dam, Lark had a sense of the pressure all this water exerted. There would be an awful flood when the ship took off, returning to its home among the stars.
The tube in his mouth squirmed disconcertingly. The traeki air ring struggled as they rose upward, hissing and throbbing to adapt to changing pressure. But Lark was more worried about Rann being spotted by the Jophur.
With luck, the skink skins will make him look like a piece of flotsam … which is what he’ll feel like once I’m through with him! Lark felt a powerful wrath build as he reached to seize the big man’s ankle.
The leg gave a startled twitch … then kicked savagely, knocking his hand away.
Ling tugged Lark’s other arm, pointing a second time.
Rann had an object in front of him—the Rothen minicomputer! He was tapping away at the controls, even as he tread water.
Bastard! Lark thrust toward the surface, grabbing for the device, no longer caring if his mere body happened to be visible from afar. Rann might as well have been waving a searchlight while beating a drum!
As soon as Lark broke through, the starman aimed a punch at him — no doubt a well-trained, expert blow, if delivered on dry land. Here, watery reaction threw Rann off balance and the clout glanced stingingly off Lark’s ear.
Amid a shock of pain, he sensed Ling erupt behind her former colleague, throwing her arms around his neck. Lark took advantage of the distraction, planting his feet against Rann’s chest and hauling back until the computer popped free of the big man’s grasp.
Alas, that wasn’t enough to end the danger. The screen was still lit. He cried to Ling: “I don’t know how to turn the damned thing off!”
She had troubles of her own, with Rann’s powerful arms reaching around to pummel and yank at her. Lark realized the Danik must be put out of commission, and quickly. So with both hands he raised the computer as high as he could — and brought it down hard on Rann’s crew cut.
Without leverage, it struck less forcefully than he hoped, but the blow pulled Rann’s attention away from Ling.
The second impact was better, giving a resounding smack. Rann groaned, slumping in the water.
Unfortunately, the jolt did not break the durable computer, which kept shining, even after Lark landed a final blow.
Rann floated, arms spread wide, breathing shallowly but noisily from his traeki ring. Ling thrashed toward Lark, gasping as she threw an arm over his shoulder for support. Finally, she reached out to stroke a precise spot on the computer’s case, turning it off.
That’s better … though it’s said Galactics can trace digital cognizance, even when a machine is unpowered.
Lark closed the cover, letting the machine drop from his grasp. He needed both hands to hold Ling.
Especially when a new, umbral shadow fell across them, causing her body to stiffen in his arms.
Suddenly, things felt very cold.
Tremulously, they turned together, looking up to see what had come for them.
