'Did not know.'
Jag barked softly. 'Ask him why he cares.'
Keith nodded. 'Why do you care about the shortcut, anyway? Do you use it yourselves?'
'Use? No. Not use.'
'Then why?'
'Spawn.'
'They're important to your spawning practices?'
'No, one of our spawn,' said the voice from the speaker.
It was frustrating — and probably as much so for the darmat as it was for Keith. Cat's Eye was used to being part of a community whose members had been talking among themselves for millennia. They understood the context of each other's remarks, the history. Explicating a thought in detail was not normal for theme and possibly even rude.
'One of your spawn,' Keith said again, helpfully.
'Yes. Touched the point that is not a point.'
Oh, my God. 'You mean one of your youngsters went through the shortcut?'
'Yes. Lost.'
'Christ,' said Thor, turning around. 'That's what activated this shortcut — a darmat baby going through!'
Keith leaned back in his chair. 'And if our fighting had accidentally destroyed the shortcut, your child would never have been able to find its way home again, right?'
'Rightness abounds. When you first arrived, we thought you had come to bring our spawn home.'
'You never asked us about that.'
'Wrong to ask.'
'Darmat bad manners,' said Rissa, eyebrows raised.
Keith spread his arms. 'We didn't know about your child. How long ago did it go through the shortcut?'
'Time since you first arrived, doubled.'
Keith turned to his left, looking at Jag. 'The child couldn't have gone far from the exit point, then. Any way of knowing which shortcut it would have come out from?'
'Well,' said Jag, 'the child must have emerged through an already active exit. But, as we found when we went careening through this shortcut ourselves, there are more active exits than we were aware of — possibly trillions more, if they permeate intergalactic space and other galaxies.
And, since the shortcuts rotate, without knowing to the second what time the child went through, even duplicating the approach angle wouldn't help us. The thing could be anywhere.'
'But if we could find the child and bring it safely home,' said Keith, 'well, not only would that be the right thing to do, it would also help cement our relationships with the darmats.' He looked around the bridge. 'Anyone disagree?'
He turned the mike back on. 'Does the child have a name? A unique identifying word?'
'Yes. It is' — PHANTOM's own voice replaced the synthesized one coming through the speaker — 'untranslated term.'
Keith gestured at PHANTOM's eyes. 'Call it — call it Junior,' he said.
'Acknowledged.'
Keith looked over at Rhombus, who could see Keith clearly, of course, even though his backside was to him.
'Rhombus, what do you think?'
'It could be a very steep slope that ends in a cliff,' he said — a wild-goose chase. 'But, as you have said, establishing friendly relationships is what Starplex is all about. I say we at least try.'
'Should we ask one of them to come with us?' asked Lianne.
'There is no way we could go through the shortcut together,' said Thor, turning to face her. 'Remember, even the smallest of those beings masses as much as Jupiter. And without precisely controlling its entrance angle, the darmat might end up coming out of a different shortcut, meaning we'd have two lost darmats, instead of one.'
Keith reactivated the mike. 'We will look for your child,' he said. 'Would you please call out to it? We will record that, and play it back at each possible place it might be. Call out to it, and ask it to come with us. Tell it that we will not hurt it, and that we only want to guide it home.'
'Record?'
'Like an oral history; we will repeat it.'
'Doing,' said the voice from the speaker. Keith let the entreaties spill into PHANTOM's memory.
'We have it,' said Keith, once Cat's Eye stopped transmitting.
'Find our child,' said Cat's Eye. 'I — words unavailable.'
The translation exercises hadn't covered this topic. But Keith understood across species lines — across matter lines.
He nodded.
Chapter XXII
Keith was in his office, going over proposals for finding the darmat baby. It was the first of the month; the holo on his desk of Rissa had automatically changed to a pose of her in shorts and tank top, taken during a hike through the Grand Canyon. The Emily Carr painting had switched to an A. Y. Jackson view of Lake Superior.
'Jag Kandaro em-Pelsh is here,' announced PHANTOM.
Keith spoke without looking up from the datapad he was reading. 'Let him in.'
Jag entered and helped himself to a chair. He had all four arms crossed in front of his massive chest. 'I want to go get the darmat child,' he barked.
Keith leaned back in his chair and looked at the Waldahud.
'You?'
Jag's dental plates clicked together defiantly. 'I.'
Keith breathed out slowly, using the time it took to complete the exhalation to gather his thoughts. 'This is a delicate mission.'
'And you do not trust me anymore,' said Jag. He moved his upper shoulders. 'I realize that. But the attack on Starplex was not authorized by Queen Trath. And the attack on Tau Ceti that Rissa has told us about was repulsed. Matters are at an end right now — unless you humans wish to prolong them. Where do we go from here, Lansing? Is it over? Or do we go on fighting? I am prepared to act as if—'
'As if nothing had happened?'
'The alternative is war. I do not want that, and I had believed you did not want it, either.'
'But—'
Jag's barks were sharp. 'The choice is yours. I have volunteered a peaceful coexistence. If you want your — what is the human metaphor? — your pound of flesh, I refuse to grant it. But finding the child and getting it home will require the utmost skill in shortcut mechanics. Magnor is good at such matters, but I am better. Indeed, there is no one better in all the Commonwealth. You know this to be true; if it were not, I would not be assigned to this ship.'
'Thor is trustworthy,' said Keith simply.
The Waldahud's two right eyes were already locked on Lansing, and a moment later the two left ones converged on him as well. 'The choice is yours. You have my report.' He gestured at the datapad Keith was still holding. 'I have suggested we send a probeship to find the child. I should be on that ship.'
'All you want,' said Keith, 'is access to the darmats for your people. Bringing home their child would earn you much gratitude.'
Jag moved his lower shoulders. 'You do me a disservice, Lansing. Indeed, the darmats do not yet know that there are a thousand entities aboard this ship, let alone that they represent a quarter-sixteen of races.'
