H.M. Hoover - Lost Star (14 page)

From habit, before resting, the Counter monitored its power. For a fraction of a second (which for this unit represented a long pause), the mind was stunned by shock. The storage cells showed nineteen percent of capacity; they had shown minus one. The Counter checked and rechecked. Nothing was malfunctioning. The storage cells
had
recharged and were, in fact, still charging now from starlight. Something had cleaned a mainline luminoid!

The Counter considered this; the dormant portion of its mind might desiccate with a too-sudden power surge. Slowly, very slowly, it began to feed. But just enough, so it could think as it once could, the Counter told itself. Beneath the blue floor osmotic current crept, roiling, stimulating memories—it was intoxicating!

At three a.m. the dome lit up, an emerald glowing in the dark. It winked just once and then went Out—-and the Counter sobered up.

Morning was dull gray. Heavy clouds hid the
mountains. Lian was wakened by wortles lighting outside her door. She got up feeling grumpy. The shower water was cold, and that did not improve her mood. The only person she met on her way to breakfast was Vincent, who smiled and said, "Good morning. Looks like rain," as he fell into step beside her.

Lian had no gift for chitchat. "You and your friends leave the lumpies alone."

For an instant his smile faded, his expression went blank and then took on an adult's superior, puzzled amusement. "I don't know what your problem is, kid," he said, "and I don't want to know. Just don't bother me with it. I don't have the time." She watched him cross the grass and enter the equipment dome.

A wortle stood forlorn in the middle of the street. "Lost the fight, didn't you?" Lian commented in passing. The bird gave her an angry glare and ruffled its feathers. It looked so much the way she felt that she

laughed and immediately felt better. Any world with wortles in it could not be all bad.

It was so early there were only three tolats In the 'dining hall. Ruby lights glowed on the beverage machines. The air smelled of hot food. She pressed two buttons on the autoserver. Twenty-six seconds later a tray burped up, containing a yellow Mob of scrambled eggs, two toasts, and a smear of grape gel. Lian looked at the food and grimaced.

"Gray people returned Zorn's recorder," a tolat announced as she sat down.

"Who's Zorn?" she said, startled that a tolat would talk in the morning.

"This tolat," said the speaker, and then she noticed Its distinctive spots.

"Was the recorder O.K.? I mean undamaged?*
⁵
"Yes.
⁵⁵
Zona pointed toward the west window. "Your three gray people are sitting.
⁵
'

The lumpies were huddled on the grass by the edge of the landing pad. They looked uneasy, as If they expected to be yelled at or chased at any moment. She was surprised to see them there; of all the lumpies only Billy came into the camp when he brought the beetles for Buford.

As the tolat watched, apparently fascinated, Lian made
a
sandwich of her food, tossed the tray Into the autocleaner, mumbled, "Thank you, Zorn,
⁵⁵
and ran outside, still chewing. When they saw her, the lumpies got to their feet, all relieved smiles and finger wavings. "What are you doing here so early?
⁵
'

For a moment she thought Cuddles was going to speak again. But either habit or fear was still too strong, because after a glance at the camp, Cuddles shook his head, and pointed in the direction of the site.

The four of them set off down the red dirt road. The lumpies seemed to be in
a
hurry and padded along on all fours. Lian had to run to keep up. "Is this necessary?" she panted after the first half mile and stopped to catch her breath. "Is anything wrong?
They smiled at her again, and from sheer frustration

part of her bad mood reappeared. "You can talk! I know you can talk. Has anyone tried to hurt you?"

The three exchanged glances, and then Poonie pointed to his right side. Lian saw a round spot of what looked like blue-green ink. "What is that?" Poonie touched the spot on Lian's arm where the computer had taken samples. "The black hole pulled you in?" Then, seeing the other two were similarly wounded, she thought she understood. As timid as they were, they must have been terrified by the experience. "All of you?" They nodded. "What were you doing in the dome so early?"

Poonie said something in three soft notes, and Lian got a mental picture of doors opening. But not normal doors. Her confusion must have shown, because Poonie repeated the image.

"Not doors . . ." she said, sounding like someone playing charades. "Not doors . . . hatches opening?" Another nod. "The power cells are charging now that some of the surface is clean and the sealed hatches work?" The nods were more vigorous. "That's wonderful! Are any of the archaeologists in the hallways?"

They shook their heads. Lian hesitated, wondering If she should go back and share this news with Dr. Farr. It was his expedition, his discovery in a way. If he hadn't come here—Cuddles caught hold of her left hand and smiled up at her, and she remembered it was the lumpies' starship. "Let's go," she said.

The halls were dark and deserted when they got there. Lian thought they were going to the dome, but her guides stopped in a nondescript area and Naldo pressed a switch she couldn't even see for grime.

The hatch responded slowly. If the sun didn't shine today, how long would power last in the auxiliary equipment? She followed them in and nervously watched the hatch close behind them.

There was light inside, faint, but enough to see that the chamber was carpeted. Floor and walls were water-stained and dirty, the carpeting worn through around the door. In the distance she could hear sounds like

choir members vocalizing, warming up, repeating phrases over and over.

It was easy to follow the path treed over the years, plain to see which hatches had opened after the flood. Only two. One from the main corridor into this hall; one from this hall Into a dim, iow-cailinged room with
a
camera eye gleaming in a comer. In there were all the other lumpies, looking right at home. She stepped In hesitantly, feeling she was an intruder. The floor was cushion-soft; she knelt to touch it. It felt like old velvet, shabby but warm and smelling of wild mustard. "You sleep here?" Lian asked, and Poonie nodded.

They must have been waiting for her, because no sooner had she arrived than they all began to file out. Cuddles led the way along the dingy passage to a large bulkhead hatch and pressed the switch. A crack appeared and the door slid open into a wide peach-colored hall.

Lian stared. There was a tashness to this place, a beauty she found hard to accept. Like the anteroom, It was completely sheathed in what looked like, but was not, deep silk-velvet pile that glowed with light. She thought the tolats would know where the light came from, but until they explained away the magic, she could enjoy it. Sculpture broke the monotony of plain walls. In an alcove to the left, where the passage curved, a massive gold ball floated In unexplained suspension. To the right was an elevator bank and a wide spiral ramp leading down Into darkness.

She would see the ship again many tunes and In far greater detail, but never again would it have the same effect on her as it did that day, that first time, when she saw only what the Counter wanted them to see.

It was a little frightening, like walking through a huge deserted palace with no windows. The ship was alien and very luxurious. It was designed for large creatures, but its basic features were familiar to Lian. She had traveled Earth's deep space cruisers. Like this ship,' they were self-contained bio-structures, worlds of their own.

She did not understand how the lumpies knew where they were going. They appeared more excited than nervous, and they seemed to be hunting for something in particular or some place. She heard the question, "Eteral?" repeated over and over with each large hatch that opened. And each time they looked disappointed.

There were things, the purpose of which she could only guess, products of a technology totally alien— bizarre library stacks, enormous fermentation tanks, strange machines. She saw what she was pretty sure were squat surface vehicles, balloon wheeled, burly, utilitarian. They looked new, as did what appeared to be an amphibious craft. Beyond one massive windowed balcony yawned a black cavern, and on its floor was a shuttle ship and two egg-shaped craft. It was the ship's hangar, and she wanted to see more of it, but the lumpies hurried on. They found compartments full of tools, both crated and uncrated, large drone robots and smaller multipurpose units, all with hands like metallic anemones. All looked operable.

She watched the lumpies studying, touching, fitting their hands to tools, their bodies to furnishings. They moved from one thing to the next, like children delighted but bewildered by too many birthday gifts. But eventually, no matter how fascinating the find, she would hear one of them call a reminding "Eteral?" and they would go on.

Then, along a service hall, a hatch no one had touched snapped open as if a spring had given way. They jumped, then quickly touched to reassure each other; the place was old. There was no light inside that door. A sickeningly sweet smell oozed out into the velvet hall. The lumpies backed away, their nostrils flaring as they analyzed the scent. Light from the corridor winked off a jewel lying in the darkness. Someone moved, light changed, and other jewels winked.

"Eteral?"

There was dread in the whisper, like an unspoken prayer that the answer would remain no. But they were afraid to look. Lian pulled free of Poonie's hand and

went to Investigate. When she flicked on the torch, someone cried out. Then silence.

It was a lounge, more lush than most, and unlike the others, this one was not empty. On the floor and draped across the furnishings were articulated bones, skeletons, and mummified remains.

She played the light over the walls, looking for high-water marks, thinking they had drowned in here. There was no sign of flooding. No one lay near the exit. Some lay together, but not in violent poses. There was no sign of panic, no suggestion that they had died trying to escape. The large, round skulls bore no fractures. Other bones appeared sturdy, unbroken.

Without warning, the hatch banged shut with a force that shuddered through the body of the ship. For a moment Lian thought she was going to be sick with terror. It was illogical; they were dead . . . the ship was . . . She rubbed her face to touch reality, felt cold sweat on her hands, and rubbed both palms dry on her sleeves. She forced herself calmly to clip the torch back onto her belt, straighten her jacket, and take a deep breath.

She turned and saw the lumpies staring at her as if she were mad. Then Poonie could stand it no longer and grabbed her hand.

It was a rout. Lian was not sure if the fear was hers alone or if it suddenly gripped them all. But they ran, all sixty-four of them, until that room was far behind. When they finally stopped, she leaned against the wall to rest and let her heart slow down. Small lumpies sank to the floor and sat exhausted. All around was the sound of deep breathing. Then someone called out, "Eteral!" and she looked up.

Just beyond their resting place the corridor widened and sloped down to an enormous ramp. Naldo stood down there, pointing to a place beyond.

They hurried through an open arch and stopped
still, dwarfed by a vast twilight space half a mile long and vaulting to a solar-shuttered ceiling. For minutes no one moved, stunned by awe or disappointment or both.

It had been a garden. The grass was brown and dusty, the trees dead, the flower beds brittle stalks. Along the walls on all sides, ramps led up to balconied apartment tiers that once overlooked the central green. A breeze from somewhere brushed her hair and passed. Leaves still clinging to the trees rustled. The lumpies sniffed; the air was fresh, and they relaxed with little sighs of relief.

"They lived here during the trip out?" Her voice was an alien intrusion in this old silence.

"Eteral," Poonie said, and nodded as if that word explained it all.

From a balcony mount, a camera eye came on. Within seconds lights went on in some of the apartments. The computer was tracking them! That it could still do that impressed Lian. It also made her uneasy

How much control did it still have? Did
it
decide which hatch would open and which would not? While she was puzzling over this, the lumpies began to climb the ramps.

If she had been alone, Lian would simply have walked into the first lighted place she found open. But she saw the lumpies stop to peer at what looked like nameplates on the doors, then they called out words. In response only one or two of them would enter that door ... as if the place had once belonged to them. But if they had never been in here—

"You have family names!" Her remark struck her as stupid, and she felt herself blushing. A nearby lumpie gave her a compassionate look; the others around her fust smiled.

She saw Billy and a small lumpie cross the park and climb to where another waited to enter a glowing door. "It must be sort of like going home," she said and turned. She stood alone, her trio nowhere in sight. Everyone else was searching for his own special place, and for the first time with them, she felt left out.