“Got you!” he said to the sixteenth reply.
He consulted his maps of the Turcanian cities.
“Arva? What’s in Arva?”
He picked up the Turcanian communicator again.
“Margrev Aplar? Are you there?”
“Greetings, James Able.”
“I have identified the locations of all the equipment that Sopha Luca was using. There is one in particular that I need you to secure. It must not be touched or switched off.”
“Very well. We have already gained much of this information. Which one are you concerned about?”
“It’s in Arva.”
“Yes, in Sopha Luca’s own home.”
“Really? I thought he lived in Oppudim.”
“Perhaps it is truer to say he worked there, rather than lived there. His family home is in Arva.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Is there anything you require us to do with the device in Arva?”
Jim replied, “I’d like to extract the information it contains. As long as it remains undisturbed, I can do it any time.”
“Very well, perhaps after our meeting.”
“Okay. Any word on the meeting yet?”
“Soon, James Able. You must have patience in this matter.”
“Fine,” Jim said but did not mean.
Two hours later, Jim received a call on the flier’s main communications system.
“This is EIA Flight A92. Please state the nature of your emergency.”
“Hello? This is James Able of the OEA. We have an injured...party on board, can you assist?”
“Please identify the injured party.”
“R546.”
While he waited for a reply, Jim tried to work out what he could from the voice. It was deep and powerful. It wasn’t human. He guessed this was another of the code-only operatives.
“Stand by for docking.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean ‘docking’?”
“Stand by for docking. Do not engage any engines or thrusters during the docking procedure.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
While he waited, Jim looked out a window. The approaching craft was huge. It was a misshapen black lump. It looked like a combination of several unrelated craft that had come together in some interplanetary pileup. He watched a docking tube weave its way from the monster’s nearest extremity to the back of the flier.
He went to greet his visitor.
The docking hatch opened to allow a machine to roll forward into the flier. Jim thought it looked like an automated toilet cleaner.
“What are you?” he said to it.
“Diagnostic unit D47. Please identify the patient.”
Jim waved the machine through to Tella. It drew up alongside Tella, and immediately several probes extended over the Neraffan’s still frame.
“Transmitting,” said the unit.
Jim heard the voice over the communications unit again. “James Able.”
“Able here.”
“R546 has sustained skeletal trauma requiring surgery.”
“Do you have the onboard facilities for that?” Jim asked.
“R546 is to be transferred to this vessel.”
Jim gritted his teeth. He was reluctant to see his friend taken away like this, but he knew there was no alternative. He couldn’t do anything for it.
“Do I get a receipt?”
There was a long pause.
“No.”
Obviously, this race was not as in tune with human humor as Tella.
A floating platform pushed its way through the docking hatch and hovered next to the diagnostic unit. Jim hauled the Neraffan onto it. The diagnostic unit extended an arm, connected to the platform, and led it back through the docking hatch.
“I didn’t mean it, Tella! I’ll let you get me drunk again.”
The hatch closed.
Chapter Four
Jim lay back in the pilot’s seat. His mind was drifting. He didn’t know the flight procedures to land back at the EIA secure terminal. He’d worry about that when he got there. He didn’t know how to reach Tella when he got back to Earth. He doubted the EIA would even admit Tella’s existence, let alone give out its address. It troubled him. Tella was an unexpected friend. Jim didn’t have enough friends to lightly lose one. He felt angry and sad about both Tella and the Maggnir.
If only I’d been quicker! If only I’d stopped Sopha before he’d started!
He slept again for several hours. The radio transmissions returned sometime during his sleep. He awoke half-hearing news about troops on street corners and curfews. By the time he had showered and eaten breakfast, he could hear that order had been restored.
“Perhaps someone has shown some backbone? Apart,” he said wryly to himself, “from Angara Myourn.”
He tried to send a message to Madhar, but the system was still unavailable. He considered calling the Regdenir but didn’t want to be told he should be patient again.
An idea occurred to him.
If I reconfigure the scanners to the correct frequency, imitate the destroyed node from Sopha’s array, and go over to TMV-Two, I can use his entire array to look at the current state of the Maggnir. And then run a comparison with Sopha’s accumulated data. Surely the Turcanians will want to know what had happened on Beauty?
He nudged the flier out of orbit and made the short trip to the second moon. He spent an hour mapping the heat sources on the planet.
The Regdenir communicator came to life.
“James Able?”
“This is he.”
“Greetings, James Able, this is Margrev Aplar. The scanning devices are behaving in a different manner.”
“Ah, yes. I am using them.”
“Please explain.”
“I’m taking readings of Main-umm-Beauty. I guessed you would need to know what damage Sopha Luca had done.”
The Regdenir was silent long enough for Jim’s heart to sink.
“Please cease all such activities. We must consult with the First Order before any such thing is done again.”
“Margrev, I’m only recording data. What possible objection could they have?”
There was another silence on the other end.
“James Able, please remember you are our guest. We are not yet ready to allow any...anyone to use such equipment or to observe Beauty in such a manner. We must consult with the First Order.”
Jim sighed and terminated the scanning.
“Very well. I’m powering down.”
“Thank you.”
“Any news for me?”
“The audnir are calm once more. We are controlling the restoration of power. The meeting will take place soon. Be patient, James Able, be patient.”
As he ended the call, Jim brought his fist down on the console and shouted, “Stupid bastards!”
He decided to return to TMV-I via TMV. He did as comprehensive a planetary sweep as he could using the flier’s sensors. It would not have the accuracy of
