Morgan's Return (19 page)

The sea gate had settled into place when Ravindra appeared with Partridge. Morgan met them at the lift.

Partridge gaped at her. "That is amazing. You're sure one fine pilot."

She made sure to give him her best smile. "Before we go, would you show us your grandmother's data? Please?"

Partridge's lips pressed together, then he shrugged. "Why not?" He turned and went back into the lift.

"You have not told the academics about what you have?" Ravindra asked as the lift rose.

Partridge shook his head. "They're her notes. They could land me in jail."

"Mm. Religions can be… difficult."

In the foyer, Partridge took a moment to ask the IS to arrange for food, then led them into his wonderful, circular study. While she and Ravindra sat, he went over to the wall and, keeping his back to them, did something. He returned with a box, which he opened, revealing a slim, rectangular object. Lifting the oblong out carefully, he said, "The notebook."

He gazed from her to Ravindra. "This is more than just her notes. Grandmother must have found something, some source which is now gone, probably destroyed when she was disgraced. You can see a reference here." He pointed to the header, which held a date and a set of numbers. "I think some of the text in the notebook is a translation."

Partridge took a pair of thin rubber gloves from a drawer. "Please don't touch," he said, pulling them on.

Understandable. She and Ravindra both leaned over the relic. The thing looked well-used, tattered and scarred, but made of a tough material. Maybe leather? Partridge opened the cover, revealing pages yellowed with age. The leaves were made of some sort of plant fiber, fine but strong, and bound together with carbon filaments so the pages could be easily turned. The material had lasted well, considering the amount of time that had passed. The author had written the words by hand, the letters uneven and difficult to decipher. The text wasn't going to be easy to read.

Eastly came in, carrying a tray. The delicious smell of fresh-brewed kaff and pastries out of the oven had her mouth watering. "That's welcome, Brent. We didn't stop for breakfast."

Smiling, Brent poured kaff into mugs and handed them out. Morgan noticed the slightest touch of fingers as the archaeologist took the mug from his 'secretary'.

"Brent wrote code to scan the handwriting and reset it as print." Partridge turned a few more pages, taking great care to touch only as much as he had to.

"So you have a translation?" Ravindra asked.

"For the words, yes. But there are some illustrations."

"Can we see the translations?" Morgan asked.

Partridge eyed her for a long moment. "Yes." He went back to his secret wall safe and removed a tablet, which he handed to her.

Morgan sucked in the data. There were a few notes, genetic computations, disjointed ideas. She paused at some star maps. The author had drawn constellations visible from Ushas with some unreadable coordinates against a few stars. But most of it was philosophical.
'So much violence, so many people taking up arms against each other. Why can't they work together, recognize not everyone is the same?
'

Further on she'd written,
'If we could all know our place, have a role to play, each man using his abilities to help himself and everyone else. People could live in harmony
.'

Morgan handed the tablet to Ravindra, showed him the passages. He snorted. "Live in harmony. What a nice idea."

"It is, isn't?" Partridge challenged him, a glint in his eyes. "I suppose you're a cynic, it can't be done."

"You're right. It can't be done." Turning away from Partridge, Ravindra said to Morgan in Manesai, "It isn't enough. By a long shot."

"I agree. But it does show this ancient person was thinking along the lines we'd expect. He's a geneticist, as proved by the DNA jottings. And he'd be just the sort of idealistic idiot who'd think he could create races which would suit his vision."

"What we need is those statues."

"Yep."

"Sorry, I don't understand the language." Partridge's gaze moved between them, his look reproachful.

"We're just saying the notes are interesting." Morgan displayed the tattered photo superimposed over the statues in the Krystor temple. "This is what we need."

"One more thing I can show you." Partridge pulled out another pad.

Ravindra's eyes narrowed. "Now isn't that interesting?"

Morgan peered around him at yellowed paper protected by film. It was a line drawing, economical in its sparseness but unmistakable. The statues they were looking for. "Let's take a ride in that submarine."

Chapter 16
 

R
avindra followed Morgan down the steps into the hull, the dull ache of jealousy eating into his gut. She seemed more comfortable with these two humans than she was with him. If she didn't apologize soon, he'd begin to think she wanted to stay here. But that was not going to happen. He'd made his promise to Partridge to help him and Eastly, and the sooner he could get them to Torreno, and be rid of them, the better. Still, he couldn't afford discord in this situation. He needed her, and he needed Partridge and his friend.

Inside the cabin harsh light illuminated the instrument panels, the sealed hatches, the non-slip flooring. The side screens were darkened, indicating the sensors were not yet switched on. Yes, this environment had much in common with a small spaceship. In fact, the first training of starship personnel was done in vessels much like these in water. That way a raw recruit had a better chance of surviving a panic attack. Even so, he'd rather have a vacuum outside the hull than the pressures of meters of water.

"Brent's the captain." Partridge spoke to Morgan, who was gazing at the screens.

"That's fine. Brent, I'm going to disconnect the satellite navigation system."

"What?" Brent squeaked.

"If you leave it on, we can be tracked very easily," Morgan said. "The sub's got other systems, surely. Sonar, maritime charts?"

"Yes, but… they're for emergencies."

"Let's treat this as an emergency, then. I'll navigate, you drive. Deal?"

She was so easy with them, all smiles and cooperation. And both of them almost fawned over her. Ravindra's stomach churned. Ravindra had felt these pangs of jealousy too often of late.

"Over to you, Captain. Get us out of here while I chart a course." Morgan bent over the console.

"The IS does most if it," Eastly mumbled.

Morgan grinned. "Yep, same as in a space ship."

"Ajax, take us out," Brent said.

"
Aye aye, captain
," replied the IS. The voice was soft and female, as you'd expect on this planet.

The side screens flashed on, showing the shadowy shape of the wharf on each side. Ravindra noticed the mooring lines reeling back, like dark snakes in the darker water.

"Might as well sit down," Partridge said, patting the bench next to him.

"You are not married?" Ravindra asked as he sank down on the bench. It gave beneath his weight, molding to fit his body.

The question seemed to embarrass Partridge. He coughed, covered his mouth with his hand. "It doesn't work that way here."

"How does it work?"

The sea gate had risen enough for the sub to exit.

"
Engines engaged. Departure imminent
."

Ravindra felt the vibration through his feet, the soft flow of air through the converters. A final clunk signaled that the hatches had sealed, then the sub began to move.

"A woman picks a man. For as long as she wants him."

It was all Ravindra could do to stop his jaw from dropping. "And then what? He is discarded?"

"Oh, she has to provide for him if he doesn't have means. It's only rich, powerful women like Seabright who churn through men like cooked breakfasts. It was eight at last count."

"What about children?"

"If a couple wants children, they apply to the birthing clinics which approve a match and grow the embryo for them."

Grown? He couldn't believe it. "So children are not conceived in the usual way?"

The other man chuckled. "Through sex? No. Sex is just for fun. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No. I suppose not."

They must have passed under the sea gate. The waves increased, tossing the sub. The water, cobalt in the side screens while in the cavern, lightened to aqua. Morgan was watching the sonar, keeping track of the depth of the ocean floor. Knowing her, the IS was now under her control. That suited him. She sat, relaxed and lovely, in the navigator's station next to Eastly's captain's chair and made a show of feeding in coordinates to the IS. The bluish light bounced off the hint of red in her dark hair, making it look even more lustrous. Would she have chosen him, had they been on this world? Some time soon he'd have to find out. But not yet. Back to Partridge and this weird world.

"I don't really understand. You can trace your antecedents back through this house, but you're male. Does inheritance not follow the female line?"

Partridge lifted a shoulder. "No. The house goes to the oldest child, be that male or female. I didn't have a sister."

"Your family name is your mother's name?"

"That's right," the archaeologist said, nodding.

"Going down, people," Eastly said.

"
Diving
."

The ship's rocking motion ceased as the hull angled down. The color of the water deepened. Ravindra caught a glimpse of a sea creature undulating its way through the depths. "How deep will we be going?" he asked.

Morgan answered him. "Not all that deep. Two hundred meters at most. This part is relatively shallow. Soon you'll start to see the remains of buildings. Keep an eye on the forward screens."

Even through the murk in the water Ravindra could see the ocean teemed with life. Weird, gnarly branches thrust upward, sharing space with spiky shapes, and the sleek, shadowy forms of cruising animals. A shoal of small creatures turned in unison with a communal flash of silver.

Partridge grabbed his arm, pointed. "See? A wall."

Indeed. A wall. Nature rarely used straight lines and regular angles. Crumbling, uneven, the structure was quite clearly a stone wall.

"It's a house." Partridge's voice quivered with excitement. "This is the edges of a village we've called Nova.

"You've been here before?"

"Of course. The site has been excavated and anything of any real value removed years ago. But it's always exciting. Don't you think?"

To each his own. Ravindra would rather see a new planet, but at least he could understand the man's response. "But this place we're going to, it has NOT been excavated?"

"No. There was nothing to excavate. Or so the experts here said." Partridge stared at Morgan's back. "I don't know how she managed to see something there."

"Neither do I," Ravindra said. "Some of it is instinct and she's rarely wrong."

The sea floor sloped down. The sub followed the topography. Ravindra felt himself sliding forward and straightened his back. Outside, the water became darker, the slanting rays of sunlight disappeared. Ravindra followed the sub's progress on the chart, a black cylinder moving through an ever-changing 3-D display above the control console, which showed the immediate environment. A second display showed progress at a larger scale, where the submarine was little more than a moving dot. Down here, he could see the islands were clearly the tops of mountains protruding above the water.

Ravindra walked to where Morgan sat and took hold of her chairback. She turned her head to look up at him. "Where is this Temple in relation to where we want to go?" He spoke in Manesai.

"It should be okay." She highlighted a mountain/island a few klicks away. "I hope. That red sphere on the map is their exclusion zone. Our canyon is just outside."

'Just' was the right word, a mere hair's breadth on the map.

"They will not detect our presence?"

"I've set up shields a little like our cloaking devices. That's what I was doing for most of yesterday. It won't hide us from visual detection but we're safe from sensors."

Normally Morgan would have tossed off some smart-mouthed remark but she remained strictly formal, a technician talking to an admiral. Ravindra's stomach fluttered. He would not lose her. He would not. "Where is the section you think is shielded?"

A gap between two islands flashed green on the display. "From what I can work out, this has always been underwater, except, of course, not so deep."

She'd spoken in Standard, glancing at Eastly, who said, "That's right."

"
We're approaching our destination
," the ship's IS said. "
Should I turn on lights
?"

"No," Morgan said.

Eastly's eyebrows rose. "Much easier to get a sense of where we are with lights."

"Much easier to be detected, too."