The Mind Pool

have far more important things to worry about.” Chan ignored the cry of protest. “We are supposed to be a pursuit team. Remember? We are tackling the most dangerous creature in the universe. When you looked around the tunnel and found that I was gone, didn’t it occur to you that I might be in trouble? Didn’t one of you think, wait a minute, now, maybe we ought to take a look and see what has happened to Chan. No. Instead, you just headed back here without giving me a thought.’

There was an embarrassed silence. “We were preoccupied with the Coromar,” said Shikari at last. “The tunnel was quite safe, and the part of me that had remained here was reporting no trouble anywhere on the surface. There was no cause for worry about you.”

“And you did return unharmed,” added S’greela. “Why are you so upset? Were you afraid?”

“Not as much as I ought to have been.” Chan was beginning to have second thoughts about what he was going to tell the others. Suppose everything was part of his own mental instability? Suppose that he had imagined the whole thing? “I encountered Nimrod down there. At least, that’s what I thought at the time.

Now I’m not so sure. But I’m amazed that I’m here to tell you about it.”

He summarized his experiences in the horizontal tunnel, keeping his account as matter-of-fact as possible. When he finished there was a strange and non-committal silence. It ended when Angel exchanged a long sequence of shrill squeaks with the Coromar.

“Leah Rainbow was your friend, and she is dead,” said Angel at last. The topmost fronds waved towards Chan. “But Vayvay has never heard of Nimrod. Of course, although the Coromar exist planet-wide, they are not very intelligent. Perhaps they do not travel far from their usual haunts, and perhaps they do not speak much one to another.”

“Don’t spare my feelings. If you don’t believe me, you might as well say so.”

The human mind has processes that we cannot begin to emulate.” Angel turned to Vayvay, as the Coromar produced another series of squeaks. “Ah, and not before time! Vayvay says that it is most sorry that it tried to eat us. But it points out that we look delicious.”

Chan glanced at Shikari and S’greela. It was not just Angel. They were all too diplomatic to say so, but not one of them believed his story. The worst thing was that Chan now doubted it himself.

“Can you ask the Coromar general questions?” he said to Angel.

“That depends on the subject. It is not a complex language, but over half the words seem to concern only eating, or looking for food.”

“Can you ask what Vayvay knows about the other species — say, the agile ones that live in the deep forest? See if they, or any others, sometimes generate a sort of dark mist. Also, see if we are likely to be able to get any help from them when we go deeper towards the forest floor.”

Chan waited impatiently, through an exchange that went on and on. Angel seemed less sure of the replies this time, and many strings of sounds had to be repeated. At last Angel turned again to Chan.

“According to Vayvay, we will obtain no help from the agile creatures. They are named the Maricore. I am sorry that we spoke for so long, but Vayvay was very confused by my questions. You see, both the Coromar and the Maricore are the same species. The Coromar are the feeding, intelligent — just — stage of the life cycle. They live for twelve to fifteen earth years, after which they encyst and undergo a complete metamorphosis. Before the change a Coromar is asexual, and therefore naturally has no sex drives. After metamorphosis a Coromar becomes a Maricore and thinks of little else. In this stage they live only one year. They mate, eat very little, and during this part of life they actually shrink in size. According to Vayvay they never exhibit the least sign of intelligence. They also have poor survival skills. For safety they dwell in the deep forest, and never approach the surface layers. It is one duty of the young Coromar to descend, guard the mature Maricore, and assure their survival until they can give birth to another litter of Coromar. Without that aid, most Maricore would not live long enough to breed.” Angel paused. “An inversion of the familiar theme. The child is father to the man — but in this case the expression proves to be literally true.”

“What about the mist?” Chan didn’t want to hear philosophy. He was suddenly absolutely exhausted, with a return of the dizziness that he had felt in the tunnels. He wanted Shikari warm about him, and then sleep. “Do the Coromar know anything about that?”

“Vayvay has never heard of any such thing.” Angel began to extend its adventitious base stems and crept toward the Chassel-Rose’s preferred rooting spot near the exit to the tent. The top fronds were slowly tightening in on themselves. Shikari and S’greela were already silent. The only sound was Vayvay’s steady and single-minded munching.

“The Coromar will help,” said Angel. “Vayvay will stay with us and go anywhere in exchange for plentiful food. But we fear that every real responsibility for decision and action must remain with us.”

The roots of the Chassel-Rose began to settle, probing down into the patch of dark, rich earth that had been brought all the way from the home planet of Sellora.

Angel sighed in dreamy pleasure. “Chan, we do not know if your encounter with Nimrod was reality, or, as Shikari and S’greela believe, pure delusion. But this we do know: together, we form as good a pursuit team as the Stellar Group will ever find.

“Together, we will defeat the Morgan Construct … or no group ever will.”

Chapter 31

The Mattin Link blurs the definition of the word “simultaneous,” so much so that the Angels have become the ultimate arbiters of time disputes. According to their standards, at the moment when Chan was staring incredulous at the apparition of Leah Rainbow in Travancore’s abyssal tunnels, Esro Mondrian stood in a corridor deep in the Earth warrens. He was at the door of Tatiana Snipes’ apartment. Three times he had lifted his hand to insert a key in the coded lock, and thrice he had hesitated and pulled back.

Tatty watched through the hidden screen. A mystery. What was wrong with Mondrian? Thoughtful and brooding, yes; indecisive, never.

At the fourth attempt he completed the sequence and the door opened. Mondrian stepped inside and stared around him. Less than a year ago this had been his favorite haven. He knew he could come here, shut out the cares of the whole of deep space from the Dry Tortugas to the Perimeter, and do his deepest thinking and planning.

Tatty had respected that need for privacy, for inner space. She knew when he was working, knew when he needed relaxation. She never intruded at the wrong time. She had been hooked on Paradox, its barbs set deep in her soul, but Mondrian would never see her take a snot. Tatty was infinitely discreet.

And now?

Mondrian, who made a god of accurate information, did not know. The apartment was no longer a place of peace and sanctuary. He stared around again, seeking the changes. Tatty was far more independent, he knew that. She had broken the Paradox habit, as far as anyone ever did. The scars of those barbs would still be within her, but no longer did the arrays of little purple ampoules decorate every room. And no longer was Mondrian’s every wish her command.

She had lived through Chan’s transformation in the Tolkov Stimulator. Was it that searing experience, affecting everything about her, that had made the difference? She refused to talk about it then. But would she change her mind, and talk about it now?

Mondrian did not know. That was the worst thing of all, Tatty had become unpredictable. He was no longer sure how she would react to his words, what she would say or do.

He knew the right solution. What cannot be controlled or destroyed must be banished. He had to make a complete break with Tatty. But he was not able to do it.

Mondrian stood at the threshold, thought of weakness, and felt an emotion he could not name. “I have them.” Tatty approached to lock the door behind him. “Are you ready to begin?”

Mondrian nodded. “Any time you want to.” It was there again, the change in her. No word of affection, or