The Spheres of Heaven

really hate you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then tell me of the previous times that the pair of you met, before your recent encounter on Europa.”

She had no right in the world to ask for such information, and Chan had no reason to provide it to her. But he found the words spilling out, recalling things that had happened many years before. When he finished, Elke Siry nodded slowly.

“I have never met your friend Deb Bisson. I have hardly met you. However.” Elke’s red lips parted, to reveal sharp white incisors and slightly pronounced canines. “However, if you had done to me what you did to her, I would tear out your throat the next time that we met.

“Deb Bisson is a kind, forgiving woman, ever to speak to you again.”

15: A HELPING HAND FOR

TINKERS AND PIPE-RILLAS

It was difficult to keep the Mood Indigo exactly balanced on its thrustors, and the ship was almost imperceptibly descending. It was also drifting slowly closer to the Pipe-Rilla vessel sitting on the seabed.

The crew of that other ship had been less lucky than Bony and his companions. Their vessel was longer than the Mood Indigo , and less of its mass was at the rear end. Instead of settling down stern-first and remaining upright, it had toppled onto its side. Any occupants now had to deal with a ship where floors and walls had switched roles.

There was no doubt in Bony’s mind that this was a vessel built by Pipe-Rillas. They followed the “decorated” school of ship design, their thought processes apparently dominated by “Hey, look, here’s another place on the hull where we can attach a gadget.” Close up, the ship’s exterior was bumped and lumped and pocked and knotted, draped with grapplers and thrustors and sensors.

And clearly there were beings inside. Bony was now close enough to see the tableau on the sea floor. The fourteen bubble-creatures had formed a semicircle around one side of the Pipe-Rilla ship. Two suited human figures, who must be Liddy Morse and Friday Indigo, stood close to the center of the half-circle, right next to the ship. They were facing what was presumably a port, and one of them was gesturing toward the rounded upper part of the hull.

Without exchanging a word with anyone, Bony could guess at the problem. The Pipe-Rilla ship, like the Mood Indigo , possessed airlocks. But those locks were useless if their outer hatches opened at the top. In space it made no difference, but here under water you needed a hatch at the bottom, so that all the air in the lock did not escape when the hatch was opened. And again, Friday Indigo’s ship had been lucky. Of the three airlocks, one of them had been situated with the outer hatch at the bottom. The Pipe-Rilla vessel had been less fortunate. Bony could see four airlocks, but not one of them had the right position for the outer hatch. The hatches sat at the top of the locks. A Pipe-Rilla who used the lock to leave the ship would have great trouble getting back in. It was a fair guess that the crew had been stranded on board ever since they arrived on Limbo.

Bony was willing to make another bet. Even with the Mood Indigo hovering less than fifty meters away from them, neither Friday Indigo nor Liddy would be able to think of any way to help the stranded Pipe-Rillas.

But Bony could.

First, though, he needed to talk to them. Normally that would be trivial for two ships so close together, but here in Limbo’s ocean the surrounding water damped electromagnetic signals. It had to be a direct cable connect, or something much more old-fashioned: talking in person.

Bony’s arrival had not gone unnoticed. One of the suited human figures was waving, but whether in greeting or irritation Bony could not tell. The bubble people, showing more sense than the humans, had retreated to the other side of the Pipe-Rilla ship and were peeping cautiously around the hull. They had the right idea. Even with low thrust, the auxiliary drives would be dangerous if you got too close to the exhausts.

With that in mind, Bony took the Mood Indigo sideways, away from the other ship, until there was a clear two hundred meters between them. Then he killed all horizontal thrust and gradually decreased the vertical drive. The Mood Indigo made a smooth and sedate landing on the flat seabed. When Bony was sure that it stood in a stable position he cut all thrust.

He had not removed his suit since first lifting the ship away from the seabed. All he needed to do was snap the helmet into position and move to the airlock. The usual nervousness as he waited for the lock to cycle and lowered himself into the water was replaced by impatience.

The sea bottom was quite different here. The sharp but fragile spears that had surrounded the Mood Indigo at its original location were replaced by fleshy pink fingers that reached to waist height and beyond. Bony assumed at first that they were plants — except that as he moved they had the disconcerting habit of reaching toward him, touching his suit, then flinching away. He picked his way carefully through them, across a narrow level plain and then up and down a sudden and unexpected incline. The fingers touched him delicately, in unexpected places, but always quickly backed off.

Friday Indigo and Liddy Morse had turned away from the Pipe-Rilla ship and were waiting for him as he approached. Direct speech would serve when they were within a few feet of each other, and Indigo didn’t waste time in getting down to business.

He bellowed, “I thought I told you to stay with the ship.”

“I did stay with the ship. It’s right there.”

“But I meant — oh, what the hell. We couldn’t get sense from the bubble-brains, but they led us to this.” Indigo reached out to touch the hull of the Pipe-Rilla ship. At the same time, Liddy grabbed Bony’s arm and gave it a welcoming squeeze.

“Are they alive?” Bony asked. He had taken a quick look through the port of the ship, and seen only an inexplicable whirlwind of movement within.

“Oh, they’re alive all right.” Indigo sounded more irritated than pleased. Bony could see why. Living Pipe- Rillas meant that the Mood Indigo was not the first Stellar Group to contact the Limbics. Therefore, Friday Indigo would have no unique position in the history books.

“How many are on board?”

“How many?” Indigo’s face was hard to see through the suit visor, but his voice was puzzled. “How the hell should I know? I don’t see how you could count them even if you wanted to. Thousands, I guess.”

Bony, after his own moment of bewilderment, understood Indigo’s answer. It was not just Pipe-Rillas. There must also be a Tinker Composite on board. Bony had never actually seen one, but he definitely wanted to because he had read about them for over thirty years.

More than ever, he was curious to see the inside of the Pipe-Rilla ship. But his bright idea for getting the aliens in and out needed review. Just how did a Tinker deal with an airlock? It had to be in terms of the whole Composite because individual components were not intelligent until they clustered. What sort of suit was right for a being with no stable shape?

He didn’t have to be able to answer that question himself. All he had to do was arrange things so he could enter the ship. After that, the Tinkers themselves would tell him how they managed exit and entry.

He turned again to Friday Indigo. “I assume they can’t get out.”

“Of course they can’t. Look at the position of their airlocks. Open the outer hatch, the air in it will go right up to the surface and the lock will fill with water.”

“I can solve that problem.”

“I know, I know. The Pipe-Rilla and the Tinker Composite must have already thought of it, and so did I. Roll the ship using lateral thrustors, until the outer hatches are on the bottom of the locks. Only I dare not try it. The hull of their ship probably isn’t as strong as the Mood Indigo , and I don’t think it could take a roll.”