Rhythm of the Imperium (7 page)

“Better than all right,” he said. “Our chances of success have just multiplied 10000 times.”

“How?”

“Wait. I will tell you when I succeed. I don’t want those listening to know.”

Twice during the next light period, Wichu guards came to the door. Through a hatch too small for the Kail to climb through, they passed collapsible tubs of water and purified stone dust. Phutes stopped his efforts to sift through the latter, judging whether any of it was fit to be added to his substance. They were used to providing Fovrates with nourishment, so Phutes took a chance that it would be suitable to nourish Kail. He tested it on his skin. It adhered well. The acids in his system bubbled up, surrounded each particle. He couldn’t sense any insulting impurities. It tasted mostly of silicon and aluminum, but carefully devoid of conductive elements. These Wichu were no fools. But they were ignorant of Kail determination.

Once he felt the restorative effects of the new minerals in his body, he resumed his work. Within 1011 more hours, he had pried up another piece of flooring. A join that had not been properly sealed yielded yet one further block of plastic, this one measuring almost half his breadth.

He searched the subflooring for contacts to the electrical system. More than a meter of insulation supported the cell floor, but it and the platform beneath it were also nonconductive. He considered tunneling through the insulation and coming up through a service hatch somewhere else in the ship, but he did not fit in the gap he had produced. The ceiling was his only hope.

Phutes eyed the 11 irregular blocks of plastic he had torn loose. It would not be easy to balance one on top of the other, especially considering the condition of what remained of the floor, but he calculated that together he could reach the ceiling. Freedom was within his grasp.

Time after time, he stacked them together, trying to create a stable ladder. He had assumed that the last block would be his base, since it was larger and heavier than the others, but it had no flat edges. Reluctantly, after more than 11000 tries, he concluded that it must go at the top of the stack.

“Mealtime!” the Solinian’s voice interrupted him. Phutes ceased his efforts and positioned himself close to the door, preparing to lurch out if given the chance. The hatch opened. Phutes surged forward, propelled by all his legs.

The guards had no intention of allowing an escape to happen. As his head emerged from the square opening, they dropped a length of fabric down onto it. Wetness dripped over his shoulders and down his arms. It smelled of decaying vegetation.

“Slime! Slime!”

Shrieking, Phutes retreated into the cell. A cloth tub of water and packet of stone dust were heaved in after him. The hatch slammed shut, and was locked tight with the alloy key.

Phutes sat on the floor, bellowing his outrage. He seized the water and poured it down over himself, seeking to cleanse off the insult. In the hall, he heard muffled cries of protest from the other Kail.

“Cut it out, or you’ll get that, too!” the Solinian barked. “Just sit tight until we get you to the platform! That’s what you want, isn’t it? Stay put and shut up!”

Shaking with fury, Phutes threw aside the water container and rose to his feet.

That was the last chance. He would show no mercy to these creatures either. Once the Kail wreaked their vengeance upon the humans, it would be the Wichus’ turn. But, one step at a time. The Kail had been patient, but no more.

He piled the insulation high and rammed the smallest block into it. Holding it steady, he balanced the medium-sized piece on it. They both teetered. He would have to hold them in place while he climbed.

The last and largest piece had to be propped on top. Phutes steadied the heavy mass with both his hands.

From the upper portion of the floor, he placed one foot carefully on the top of his wobbling tower. It slid apart with a clatter. Patiently, Phutes reassembled his structure, turning the topmost piece so it faced in the opposite direction.

“Brother, are you all right?” Sofus called.

“I am patient,” Phutes called back. “Silence.”

The Kail’s voices died away in the corridor. The guards would have been wise to pay attention to the sudden quiet, but they did not understand the Kail. They had had their chance.

The tower fell apart time and time again. Phutes rebuilt it with focused calm, adjusting the structure a degree or 10 each way for maximum steadiness. At last, when he put a foot on it, it didn’t move. He shifted his weight onto that foot and brought the next one up to the makeshift platform. It held! He wanted to bellow his triumph, but that might bring the guards again.

Instead, he concentrated on holding as still as he could while he brought the last foot to the top of the structure. The tower sank centimeters into the mound of insulation. Phutes did not have much time until it collapsed irretrievably. He raised his hands with the greatest of care, until he touched the light fixture.

The conductive materials in his skin connected with the metal contacts. Instantly, he felt the surge of electricity flow through his body and with it, the communications and programming that made the ship function.

“Fovrates,” he said, sending his voice as an impulse that only another Kail would hear and understand. “Fovrates, they have taken us prisoner. It is time. We must take control now, or the opportunity will be lost!”

The low chuckle of the elder Kail came back via the circuits. “I have waited a long time for this moment. It is in our hands. Patience, now, and listen.”

At that moment, the tower of blocks collapsed from under Phutes’s feet. There was just enough purchase for him to hold onto the light frame with both hands.

He heard the outcry, through the circuits and through the air. His translator picked up on voices from over 110000 angry Wichu, crew and passengers alike.

“Who turned off the lights?”

“Why won’t the lifts work?”

“Engineering! My door is stuck! I can’t get out of the head!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Do you like that, brother?” Fovrates asked.

“Infinitely.” Phutes smiled at the walls of his prison. Now that the Wichu were in the same fix, it did not bother him as much. He hung onto the light fixture, enjoying the annoyed outcry. “Take us to the Zang.”

CHAPTER 7

“I had heard that there is a huge ‘kaboom!’ when the heavenly body disappears,” Xan said, his long legs propped on the end of a deep blue brocade couch. The rest of him lay on a gorgeously embroidered warming rug on the floor beside the broad, transparent viewport at the bow end of our day room. It tended to be chilly at the perimeter of the chamber, thanks to the window, but our parents, aunts and uncles had insisted on this feature when the
Jaunter
was commissioned some forty or so years before. We all thought it was worth the trouble. When we were not traveling at faster than light speed or in the midst of a jump point, the view of the stars and nebulae was unparalleled. Like the rest of us, he was watching a near pair of stars with a speculative and proprietary air.

We had been cruising along at top speed since leaving the last jump point. The next one was a half-day’s journey ahead, but we were not going directly there. The
Jaunter
had scheduled a stop for us at Counterweight. This handsome little planet had been discovered four thousand years ago by human settlers. It was renowned for being Earthlike, even more so than our homeworld of Keinolt. It circled the binary pair, which consisted of an enormous yellow giant and a tiny blue-white star. Of all the early human settlements, Counterweight was one of the few where none of our ancestors had needed to live in tight quarters of artificial habitats or make adaptations to their genetics in order to survive. The refreshing atmosphere held a perfect twenty-one percent oxygen level and was perfumed by esters from planktonoids and chlorophyllikes that were so similar to Earth-types that no terraforming had been necessary. Terran plants grew freely in the nitrogen-rich soil.

The difference between Counterweight and Earth, I had been informed, was that no intelligent species had evolved into prominence on the planet. That left it untouched and wild until our ancestors came upon it. Though it was isolated in between two of the most remote jump points in use at this end of Imperium territory, it enjoyed a reputation as a vacation spot and a retirement community for those who could afford the final passage thereto. As a result, the shopping, night life, beach culture, adventure activities and garden tours were all reputed to be excellent. My cousins and I were looking forward to spending three or four leisurely days there. Parsons had already alerted me by private viewpad message that our special guest would join us on Counterweight. All of this had me so filled with excitement, I could not sit down. I circled the room like a doomed planet trying to outrun the Zang.

“There isn’t a ‘ka’ anything,” Nalney said, lying back on the brilliant green damask couch he had claimed as his own with his eyes covered by a long-suffering arm. “No one can hear sound in space.”

“I know that!” Xan said, impatiently, kicking a toe into the air. “But what about the shock waves? Don’t they make any noise?”

“I suppose that they could be translated into noise,” I said. “If there was a resounding chamber set to catch them. If it wouldn’t be destroyed in the blast.”

“There is no blast,” Erita said, curled in the round chair she favored. A sticklike serverbot worked on her fingernails with tiny brushes and tweezers brandishing gems and miniature feathers. “The object just disappears. I have watched digitavids and old-style video recordings of the Zang. I’ve seen them over and over again. It doesn’t explode. It just … goes.” She fluttered her free hand, already decorated copiously with blue crystals, to match the day’s blue gown.

“Please don’t move, my lady,” the ’bot said, in a plaintive little voice. It brought out a minute tool and scrubbed away at a place on her nail where it must have made a mistake.

“Oh, sorry.”

“But there are shock waves,” Xan insisted. “They ripple out to the edge of the heliopause. Beyond it, too, I believe.”

“Marvelous!” Jil said, clapping her hands, which had already been adorned in red and green crystals and white feathers by the same ’bot. They looked rather marvelous. “I can’t wait to see.”

“It’s quite wonderful,” Erita said, fluttering her free hand. “According to the narrator, Professor Derrida, who is a scientist who’s made numerous very popular digitavid series, the process is known only to the Zang. It doesn’t seem to involve anything in the way of mechanisms. Not that we can see, anyhow. They evoke the energy from within their
bodies
. Well, who knows what they are concealing? They are so odd and blobby-looking. I wonder how they evoke anything at all.” This thought appeared to puzzle her deeply.

“Or why they decided to do it in the first place,” Jil said, lying back in her cushion-filled chair with a small cup of espresso garnished with a curl of citrus peel. Sinim, dressed in salmon pink silk, sat crosslegged on a massive blue pillow beside her. “I’ve never really seen the difference when it comes to doing bonsai on a plant. I know it’s an art form, but what’s the purpose of it? When you’re done, you have a plant that is missing a few branches. Is it any more use than an unaltered plant?”

“What is the use of art?” Xan asked, lazily turning a hand palm up. “To be beautiful.”

I could hardly help myself moving around at the thought. I executed a grand jete and landed on one knee before Erita.

“Do you think the star lanes are made more beautiful by what the Zang do?” I asked. Erita made a face at me.

“Oh, Thomas, how should I know? I’m no expert! All I did was watch the programs, darling. Star systems all look rather the same to me. Sun or suns in the middle, planets and space debris farther out, and that messy Oort cloud surrounding it all.”

“Sounds like a pastry with layered filling,” Nalney said, mischief causing playful wrinkles to form around his deep brown eyes.

“Now you’re making me hungry,” Xan said. He snapped his fingers, and an LAI rolled toward him with a tray held out. It helped him to a tiny plate of canapés. “I have a reservation at the finest mini-cuisine restaurant in town on the surface. If this delay continues for too long, I shall miss it, and that will make me cross.”

“Would you like to see some of my digitavids?” Erita offered. “I think you will find the destruction of the binary system in the Dendrobium sector worth watching. It may divert you from worrying.”

“No, thank you very much, Erita,” Xan said, selecting a pastry topped with a bright green slice of fish. “I’d rather let the surprise unfold when we get to witness the real thing.”

“I shall scream,” Sinim said, her dark eyes huge in her small face. “I just know it.” Jil patted her on the shoulder.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “It’s not as if the planet they are removing is of any importance to us.”

“But what if it was?” the girl asked. “What if it was one of our homeworlds that they decided to destroy?”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Jil said. “The Zang could destroy any planet, but they don’t.”

“They could!”

“Anyone for another game of hide-and-seek?” I asked, casually, hoping to divert Sinim from her self-induced panic. “I volunteer to be It again. One of you will beat me eventually.”

Erita patted a yawn. “Not now, dear. You’re too good at it. Perhaps later.”

“
Perhaps later
means never with you, cousin,” I said.

“Oh, no, I would never say never, Thomas!” Erita protested. Red blossomed on her sallow face. She had been caught out, and the others knew it. She wriggled her fingers at me. “Oh, very well. Once we know what we’re doing today. If there’s time, I will join your game. I have no idea why we are hovering here instead of going down to the planet to shop. I want a new belt to hold my pocket secretary.” She plucked at the virtual spiderweb that held her viewpad to her narrow midsection. As the forecast for the surface was quite warm with a mild breeze, that portion of her body was revealed to sight between a boned sapphire-colored bodice and a sweeping pale blue skirt. “This one is getting quite threadbare.”

“It was threadbare to start with,” Jil observed, patting the embroidered pouch that hung at her side. “Why don’t you get something that will conceal your device properly? We don’t all need to see when someone calls you or sends you a file.”

“Why shouldn’t everyone see when I get a message?” Erita countered. “You all know how popular I am.”

I joined in the general fleering that greeted that statement. Erita waved at us again, then bent to concentrate on how her manicure was progressing. I did a couple of lunges to work my quadriceps, performed a handspring that landed in a creditable split which I wished Deirdre had witnessed, and went to see how the
Jaunter
was progressing at maneuvering us into a parking orbit.

Through the viewport, I watched Counterweight turning serenely below us. It was a handsome place. Wide blue oceans covered more than half of its surface. I wanted to walk on a place that reminded our ancestors of our lost homeworld. What could be the holdup?

As if to echo my concerns, the doors to the lift shaft opened up. Lionelle stalked out, looking like the big cat for which she had been named. My younger sister was dressed for a day out, in khaki shorts with knife-creased cuffs that showed off her legs, and a white blouse covered with pockets and loops, from some of which depended miniature versions of gadgets. She brandished at us a domelike hat with a wide brim suitable for keeping the sun from ruining her perfect complexion.

“I can’t stand it!” she declared. Such a dramatic entrance required attention.

“What is the matter?” I inquired. “We have attained orbit.”

“But not parking orbit!” Nell said. “Has anyone reported to us? I can see the massive way station on the equatorial continent below. In fact, I’ve seen it go by more than thirty times! Why are the shuttles still blocked off?”

“I have no idea, Nell,” I said. I beckoned to her. “We’ll get down there soon. Come and have a bite to eat. Would you like to try one of my fruit purees? They will replenish your electrolytes brilliantly. I recommend the papaya-mango.”

“My electrolytes are fine!” she said, throwing up a hand in impatience. “When are we landing? I want to see Counterweight. There’s a train of real elephants going into the mountain jungle above the principal city. Elephants! Descended from the very beasts who walked on Earth itself! I am supposed to be on the lead beast! It’s all white, and it’s been painted with my coat of arms. I have a half bushel of apples for it from Great-Aunt Sforzina’s private orchard! I thought you would be impatient as anything, Thomas. Aren’t you signed up for the tour?”

“Not on this leg,” I said. “I have a reservation for our return journey. Today I had planned a flying tour, then a pub crawl to be followed by a race tournament in atmosphere flitters. My vehicle is in the hold, prepped and fueled. You shouldn’t worry. They’ll wait for you, you know. You’re a member of the Imperium house. They wouldn’t dare depart without you.”

“But what is the delay?” Nell asked, flapping her hat as though battering down invisible barriers. “They’re not telling us anything! Go and find out, will you, Thomas? There’s a dear. You have a way of worming information out of the dullest sources.”

“Of course, Nell,” I said, glad of activity that would take advantage of my brimful energy. I gave her a most elegant bow, with the back of my hand sweeping over my outstretched foot. “In the meanwhile, relax. I will report back as soon as possible. Over and out.”

Nell laughed. I strode back to the lift shaft.

While I rode down the shaft of air, I checked my viewpad. No emergency messages had arrived from Parsons explaining the delay. Instead, I sent him a query. By the time I reached the command level, he still had not replied. To me that meant that something was up, and that he was involved. In the absence of further information, I had better ask the captain xirself what was going on.

I stepped off onto the platform and prepared to walk through, but the door did not automatically open. Instead, a red lens shimmered into life.

“Identify yourself,” the wall said.

“Lord Thomas Kinago,” I replied. “Surely you have been programmed to identify all of us. What’s your name?”

“Please present credentials,” the wall replied, without further courtesy.

I raised my eyebrows, but that did not seem to be enough outrage to overcome the wall’s obduracy. Beginning to experience the first moments of pique, I thought of acting out all my family’s frustration. It was far simpler to unlimber the viewpad from the pouch at my waist and hold the screen up for the red eye to read.

The door opened at once, revealing the dullest-looking corridor I had yet beheld on the
Imperium Jaunter.
It was as functional as it was unappealing. The beige kickplates were scuffed, and the stone-gray padding was of the most utilitarian to be had.

“Pass,” said the wall.

“Thank you,” I said, holding my chin high. “May I say that it has not been a pleasure interacting with you.”

“Forgive me, Lord Thomas,” the wall said, almost plaintively. “I am on duty.” I felt abashed at my discourtesy.

“Ah. Forgive
me
. Thank you for your service. Let us speak later on, when you’re off shift.”

“We shall. I am WA-946l. I must close. Please pass.”

I did so. My heels clattered noisily upon the uncarpeted gray deck. I would have to speak to my mother upon my return. That a section of the vessel was utilitarian did not mean it needed to be ugly.

Most of the common spaces on the
Jaunter
were segregated according to function. Our quarters, dining, entertainment center and day room were in a section all together in the center of the ship. Our support staff, including Madame Deirdre, a few reporters, some friends not of noble blood, and the other professionals hired for the journey occupied the section forward to that. They shared dining facilities and so on with the crew of the ship, who, apart from the engineering section in the stern, were located even further forward, just below the bridge and senior officers’ cabins. I peered into the officers’ gray-walled day room as I passed. It lay vacant. That in itself was unusual. Considering the size of the crew, there ought to have been a few there, answering correspondence, playing a game or so in the full-sized gymnasium, watching digitavids on the utilitarian but very good facilities installed there. (We insisted that our crews have only the best to occupy them when they were not caring for our needs.) Meals sat half-eaten, and a forlorn-looking LAI rolled around the room picking up trays. The diners had vacated in a hurry, and not that long ago. Something unusual was afoot.