Perry Rhodan Lemuria 1: Ark of the Stars (18 page)

She crawled back.

That was actually the hardest part in the narrow shafts. You could always get in somehow. But going back ... you were exhausted, and the supply sack blocked the way. You had to push it through the shaft centimeter by centimeter.

She fell. She could see a bright light below her. She had stretched out her arms and legs in an attempt to brake her plunge, but in vain. Then she was on top of the light, and there was a narrow black shadow. She grasped at it and felt a cold metal bar between her fingers, and her fall had come to an abrupt end nearly two hundred and fifty meters above the surface of the Outer Deck.

Denetree screamed again and again, louder and louder. Hoping for a miracle.

Only a few more meters separated her from the other Kalpen. Denetree heard their grumbling conversation. She turned on her forehead lamp and checked her arm chip. Launt had been able to help her remove her original arm chip, but they had not been able to fasten the new one securely. When she was hanging on for dear life above the Outer Deck, it had nearly come loose. Without the arm chip she was lost.

The chip held in place, though one edge stuck out just a little.

And then the miracle had happened. Something had seized her by the wrist and pulled her up. Not with the even movement of a winch, but in jerks. Denetree had looked up and saw a thin human shape, its legs braced against the step-grooves in the walls of the shaft.

Gasping, Tekker had dragged her upward. And when they had reached the slanted shaft where they could finally collapse without sliding back down, the Kalpen had not chewed her out. Tekker had merely taken her into his arms and held her until the shaking that gripped her body stopped and she could crawl again.

Tekker had never mentioned the incident. Neither to her nor to any of the other Kalpen.

"Here's our fieldswine at last!" Tekker greeted Denetree as she crawled through the main shaft. "Can we finally go? I'm hungry!"

The other Kalpen laughed dutifully.

Denetree stowed her tools in her backpack and the Metach'ton headed for its night quarters. She suspected they could get there over the surface of the Middle Deck, but the Kalpen preferred to travel in one of the roomy main shafts.

As if reading her mind, one of the men said, "Down here, at least we aren't knocked over by one of those blasted bicycle riders!" with a side glance at Denetree, who insisted on taking her bicycle from one job to the next. To the amazement of the Kalpen, she managed to prevent any other metach from riding off with it. The others, Tekker most of all, laughed loudly at this comment.

Denetree didn't care. She had learned that the Kalpen expressed their feelings differently than the metach in her previous Metach'ton. The best difference was how quickly they accepted the newcomer as one of them: Denetree found herself automatically in the middle of the line, as a part of the company.

They camped under the "open sky." The Kalpen made it a rule to ignore the shelters assigned to them; perhaps because they spent their days in the cramped shafts, perhaps as a sign of their independence. Denetree was still trying to figure it out. What she was certain of was that she liked at least this part of her new existence. Camping gave her a feeling of freedom that she had never known before.

That evening, some metach came from the Metach'ton whose air supply they had brought back to standard pressure, bringing gifts. Food and some alcohol that had been distilled on the sly. Tekker accepted them, but when the metach politely tried to start a conversation, he quickly drove them off with his rude remarks and cackling. All Denetree heard before they left was that the Tenoy had caught another traitor.

Then they were alone. Tekker lit a small fire. "We make the air, so we can use it, too!" he declared as he built it, and the others agreed. Soon they were roasting the protein plants they had received as gifts, along with the standard rations that the Ship had allotted them. The bottles were passed around. The first time one came to her, Denetree passed it on without drinking, and just stared into the flames.

Someone held a plate with a large protein plant on it under her nose. It was Tekker. She took the plate. A young Kalpen had sat down next to her, but Tekker sent him away with a disapproving look and sat next to her himself.

"Everything all right, girl?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"You often seem like you're somewhere else in your thoughts."

"Maybe I am," Denetree admitted.

"That isn't good. You're here with us, and your thoughts should be with us too."

The bottle came to Tekker. He took a long swallow and held it out to her.

"Thanks, but none for me."

"It would do you good." Tekker continued to offer her the bottle as though he hadn't heard what she said.

Denetree took the bottle and weighed it in her hand. Tekker meant her well. She gave in and took a swallow. The alcohol burned her throat and stomach.

"Better?"

She raised the bottle again and forced down several more swallows. The burning sensation became a pleasant warmth.

"Yes, I think so,"

A tear ran down her cheek.

"You're crying."

"Yes."

"But why? You're here with us. With Tekker."

"I know."

More tears came. The flames in front her blurred. The sparks flying from the wood shone like stars.

"I know," said Denetree.

What a day.

First, the maphan called her into the holy sanctuary of the control center, then they stumbled on a gigantic Lemurian ship—the largest artifact found in centuries from the time of the First Humanity!—and finally, Jere von Baloy let her stay in the control center, at her own console, quite as though she belonged there.

Solina Tormas wondered what further wonders awaited her.

She did not have to wait long.

Hardly a quarter hour after the
Palenque
had launched its peculiar fighters, the Espejel announced, "Maphan, the Terrans are calling. Their commander wants to speak with you!"

Jere von Baloy sent the faintest hint of an all-knowing smile in Echkal cer Lethir's direction and said, "Put them through, Netkim. We don't want to waste any more time here."

Solina understood the underlying meaning of his remark. The
Las-Toór
had matched its speed with the Lemurian ship. At just below light-speed, each minute on board the Lemurian ship corresponded to one hundred minutes in the Blue system—so time was passing quite quickly. It was regrettable, but there was nothing to be done at the moment if they didn't want to give up their claim to the discovery. And no one on board would consider that, certainly not Solina. Floating above her in the holo, the huge cylinder with its long, antennae-like feelers filled her with a powerful yearning. There, the early history of her people waited for her—and possibly even
living
history. The head of the Terran commander displaced the image of the Lemurian ship. She had an angular face set in a military-neutral expression, an effect that was not softened by almond-colored eyes and a smooth fall of shining hair. The holo showed her body only to just below her shoulders, but it was enough to see that she wore a black, tightly fitting uniform that reminded Solina unpleasantly of the security forces on Drorah.

"Sharita Coho, commander of the Terran prospecting ship
Palenque
," she introduced herself, speaking the intergalactic language of Intercosmo.

"Jere von Baloy, Maphan of the Akonian explorer ship
Las-Toór
," came the reply, also in Intercosmo.

For a moment there was silence as the two tried to size each other up.

The Terran's expression gave nothing away, but Solina wondered what was going through her head at the sight of Jere von Baloy in his dirty overalls. This was supposed to be a starship commander? On the other hand ... Solina had never before looked a Terran commander in the face, but somehow the Akonian had pictured it differently: more relaxed, certainly not in uniform. But as a historian, Solina knew that when one looked more closely, things were always different than one imagined them.

"You look like a man who appreciates frankness," the Terran said. "Therefore I won't waste any time: you're wasting
your
time. We were here first, so just go away!"

"Not so fast," Jere von Baloy replied, giving the Terran his most radiant smile. "Isn't there an old Terran proverb, 'Good things take time'? We are ready and willing to compare the log data in our syntrons with yours. As you certainly know, hyperdetection alone is decisive for ownership priority, as has been repeatedly affirmed by galactic courts for centuries now, and—"

"Keep the lawyers away from me! I'd sooner—" She broke off.

"You'd sooner what ... ?"

"Never mind! The ship belongs to us and you might as well leave. Anyway,"—the Terran's voice changed to a sticky-sweet chirping—"that thing is just a low-tech tin can. Flying scrap metal. It isn't worth fighting over."

"A Lemurian tin can," Jere von Baloy said simply.

"What? How do you know?"

"We are a research ship. It's our mission to ask questions and find answers."

"Then go look for them somewhere else. You've got the whole goddammed galaxy for that! Or do you want to force me to request the assistance of the LFT fleet?"

Jere von Baloy did his job well. Very well. Solina knew there were some on board who were not satisfied with his leadership. "A maphan who dresses like a simple neelak! It's a scandal!" they whispered, though only behind his back. But others often underestimated Jere von Baloy. In moments like this, he showed one of his greatest strengths: grace under pressure. Whether it was an emergency on board the ship, quarrelsome Yidari, or impertinent Terran starship commanders, he did not let himself get excited. Another man might have exploded under the hail of insults and presumptions. Not only did the maphan remain calm; Solina had the impression he actually enjoyed the battle of words with the Terran.

"Do what you must," he said and spread his arms in a gesture of generosity. "I will not, however, conceal from you the fact that cruising in the immediate vicinity of the Ochent Nebula there happens to be an Akonian squadron under the command of Gartor von Taklir, a most unpleasant and short-tempered character, or so I've heard. He has a reputation for shooting before getting around to asking questions."

The Terran seemed ready to explode. Her deep frown wrinkled her forehead and a thick vein bulged angrily. She opened her mouth. Solina instinctively ducked behind her console. But the fit of rage never came. The Terran's face remained rigidly fixed toward the camera, but her glance wandered to the side, as though she was concentrating on a director just out of camera range. And he seemed to be giving her new instructions.

When the Terran continued speaking, all the anger had vanished from her voice.

"It's good that we spoke of that, Maphan. Now we both know where we stand." The Terran allowed herself a moment of silent triumph as she sensed that she had caught Jere von Baloy off guard for the first time with her surprising change of tactic. "Now that the lines have been drawn, I can get down to my actual purpose in making contact with you."

"And that would be?"

"I want to make you an offer. In consideration of the fact that we're dealing with a Lemurian artifact, I see a special responsibility for both parties. After all, it's a matter of our common ancestors."

Solina wouldn't have been surprised if the Terran had choked on the syrup in her own voice. But Sharita Coho was made of stern stuff. She held on, breathing deeply and evenly.

"Why don't we investigate the Lemurian ship together? It would be childish to let petty jealousy get the better of us, right?"

"How very true."

Sharita Coho lowered her head. "I can understand that you're not ready to trust us whole-heartedly. Terran-Akonian history is unfortunately filled with regrettable ... um ... misunderstandings. Therefore, I suggest a trust-building measure. Why don't we exchange guests? It would be a wonderful opportunity for each side to get to know the other while the joint exploration team goes about its work."

"An interesting suggestion." Jere von Baloy gave the ship's syntron a hand signal outside camera range and turned to the control center crew. "The cards are on the table. What do you think of the offer?"

The Terran would not be aware of the small council of war: the ship's syntron had seamlessly inserted a simulation of the maphan into the conversation. Jere von Baloy's digital doppelgänger would answer her remarks as long as necessary with banalities meant to delay making any meaningful response.

"This is a trap!" exclaimed Echkal cer Lethir, not surprisingly the first to be heard from. "You can't trust Terrans. Call the fleet! That's even what the
Las-Toór
's regulations say: In a hopeless situation, the fleet is to be called upon for assistance!"

Other crew members expressed themselves in turn. Their opinions were divided: half agreed with Echkal cer Lethir, the other half felt negotiations should continue.

This was a quirk of Jere von Baloy's that Solina had only heard about prior to this moment: before an important decision, he often solicited advice from the crew. Though such collaboration might be considered a sign of weakness—a maphan didn't discuss, he decided—Solina saw it as just the opposite. It was a sign of strength: this way, he made his decisions the decisions of the entire crew. And—

"Solina, your opinion?"

She gave a start. All others present had voiced their opinions, but she didn't expect to be asked. She wasn't part of the inner circle.

"Solina, we're listening!"

"Well ... I ... " Redness flushed her cheeks. "I think we should accept the offer. The Terran commander may rant and rave, but we have a proverb on my home world: 'A glowshark that beats its fins doesn't bite.' The Terrans won't do anything to us as long as we have their hostages on board."

"And you believe the Terrans have no ulterior motive?"