CHAPTER THIRTY

The room that Rakki, White Head, and Gap Teeth were being held in was formed from the same kinds of materials as the crawling shell that had come to Joburg, the bird that had brought them to this “base” they called Serengeti, and the few other parts of it that they had seen since. The structure was not woven from anything, but consisted of unbroken sheets of a size and extent that amazed him. And how it was all fastened together such that the greatest force he could bring to bear failed to produce even the slightest bend or movement was a mystery. Doors opened silently of their own accord; light appeared at the touch of a finger; shining handles gave forth endless streams of water, hot or cold, and clearer than was found in the pools of high-mountain streams. How it was possible to create such things intrigued yet confounded him. He had seen the strange shapes from which the Sky People were constructing the base, and from which, presumably, they had also built their even vaster cities. And then, beyond that, what manner of knowledge of forces and powers enabled other creations to move themselves across the ground and fly in the sky?

Surely, Rakki would have thought, these were the god-beings that White Head had talked of, which people had once believed were to humans as humans were to animals and came from the sky. But no. White Head said they were human, just like himself, Rakki, or any of the others at Joburg or back in the caves. And that in itself was a challenge both to Rakki’s hunger to know, and to his pride. For if they were human, it meant that he could learn too. And if other humans commanded such powers, a leader of any stature would have to show himself as capable of possessing them too.

“You say they are humans like us.” Rakki brought the subject up again. He sat with his legs stretched along one of the fine woven-hair beds, his back propped against the wall, and addressed White Head, sitting in a chair at the table, causing pictures and lines of strange symbols to appear on a screen. White Head seemed to have an idea what some of the symbols meant. Gap Teeth was sitting cross-legged on the floor, silent and unmoving. He said the chairs were the wrong shape and too soft. They made him feel as if his bones were dissolving like salt stones dropped in a cooking pot.

“Just like us,” White Head said again.

“But they are not just like us. You tell me they make these things from essences that lie hidden in rocks. But I have broken rocks and examined them, and I do not see these things. Why can we not make machines from essences of rocks if it is not because the Sky People are different?”

White Head pushed himself back from the table but kept his eyes on the screen. “They are different only in what they know. In the same way, you know much and Shell Eyes’s baby knows nothing. But it is as human as you, and will become like you.”

“Are you saying we are nothing but children?” Rakki challenged. He didn’t like the comparison and felt anger at the suggestion.

“When it comes to learning the things the Sky People know, yes,” White Head answered, refusing to compromise. Rakki knew it was true and let it go. White Head called the achievements of the Sky People “miracles”—things that required knowledge that was beyond normal understanding. It had been discovered little by little and passed down from generation to generation, always growing, for longer spans of time than Rakki was capable of grasping.

He still didn’t know what to make of the confused impressions he had been getting ever since these gods who were not gods first appeared at Joburg. Keene, whom had first thought to be the head-god, and the long-haired goddess had told that the knowledge White Head spoke of came from people working with each other; that the ways of war prevented learning and brought only sorrow, pain, and destruction. They had brought him to Serengeti to see, and he had met the greater god Gallian, that even Keene served.

But what Rakki had seen was that the world of the gods did not exist as all working together in the way Keene and the long-haired goddess had said. They fought each other too—as those who burned with the inner flame that compels them to command and to rule were always driven to fight. And Zeigler’s gods had proved the more powerful. He ruled, and Gallian was vanquished. Gallian’s gods were reduced to servants as the Cave People had been made to serve their conquerors from the Swamps. So what was Rakki to make now of the things that Keene and the goddess had told him? If the gods didn’t achieve their miracles by working for each other after all, then why had they tried to convince Rakki otherwise? Perhaps as a way of inducing Rakki, and hence all those he too ruled over, to work unconditionally for them. Now that would be a ploy that he had no difficulty understanding.

He heard the door opening and looked across. One of Zeigler’s warriors came through and stood aside to make way for Zeigler himself, followed by another, muscular of build and fair like Yellow Hair. A female was with them, yellow-skinned and with slanted eyes. She put Rakki in mind of Hyokoka, the woman that Gap Teeth had claimed back at Joburg. Rakki swung his feet down and stood to meet them, and Gap Teeth rose from the floor. White Head turned in his chair.

“The warrior chief comes to us?” Rakki muttered, surprised.

“It is captives that are summoned to their captor,” White Head said. “He is telling us we are as guests.”

The female came forward. She seemed to know that White Head did most of the speaking and addressed herself to him, though acknowledging Rakki with glances of her eyes. “She is the talk-between for Governor Zeigler,” White Head supplied—although Rakki had understood that much himself. “Her name is Leisha. The Governor regrets making us stay here. There are many troubles in Serengeti.” Rakki nodded, satisfied. He felt he was being treated like a leader, not a child.

“We are not offended. He rules the mightier tribe,” Rakki said. White Head seemed to take a long time passing it on, probably adding some words of his own.

Zeigler pondered while he studied Rakki searchingly, as if for a hint as to how best to broach the matter. Probably head-on and direct, he decided. The undisguised awe that Rakki had shown toward firearms ever since the first contact at Joburg, and the evident impression that yesterday’s action had made on him, said they spoke a common language. “Tell him, more of us will arrive soon. Then we will be a truly mighty tribe.”

Leisha interpreted with some trial and error. “From the… it sounds like ‘gods’ place,’ beyond the clouds?”

“Yes.” The image suited Zeigler fine. “But until then our numbers are small. Rakki and his Tribe could help make our position stronger.”

An exchange ensued between Rakki and the old man, who was called Yobu. Leisha did her best to follow, at the same time keeping up an intermittent commentary. “Zeigler has the guns… . Why doesn’t he just kill his enemies? . . .  Because then they couldn’t work for him… . They have the knowledge to… the nearest I can come up with is, ‘perform miracles.’ ” Then Leisha concluded, “But Rakki says the Tribe does not have a large number of warriors… . He would be honored to help the god-Governor…” Zeigler had to bite his lip to prevent a smile from softening his features, “ . . . but he wonders how much difference they would be able to make.”

“He spoke before of more who live in caves and swamps to the east, beyond the mountains,” Zeigler said.

“He does not rule that tribe. His enemy rules there.”

That was something Zeigler hadn’t known. He glanced automatically at Kelm, but Kelm’s expression said he had nothing to offer. Zeigler frowned. And then the obvious angle suggested itself. He looked back at Rakki while continuing to speak through Leisha. “Suppose that in return for helping us, we help him remove his enemy. Then he will rule all the tribes. And we will have more allies.” The flash in Rakki’s eyes told Zeigler the answer before Leisha had finished translating it.

She went on, “But even with greater numbers, how could his warriors be a worthy addition to yours, who possess wondrous weapons?”

“If they join us as I ask, then they will have such weapons too,” Zeigler promised.

Just then, the compad in Kelm’s tunic pocket beeped. It was set to accept priority interrupts only. He took it out and raised it to his ear, keeping it on audio only. His eyes flickered unconsciously over Zeigler as he listened. “Yes, he’s here with me. I’ll put him on.” He passed the set to Zeigler. “It’s OpCom. The power control room is reporting some kind of problem with the Agni. They’ve put out a call for Dr. Keene.”

“I should get over there,” Zeigler said. “Stay here and make arrangements to get these people back to Joburg. See who we can spare to make an instruction fire-team. I want a dozen at least of Rakki’s fighting men to begin small-arms familiarization right away. Also, find out what you can about these other people over the mountains. They sound like the material we could really use. Maybe that chief of theirs that this guy here is ready to take out is the hook that’ll get them for us.”

Aboard the Aztec, Vicki sat playing a solitaire game, her eyes following the cards as she turned them but not really seeing them. Tanya, who had ended up as Vicki’s cabin mate, watched from a folding seat on the far side of the cramped space. She and Vicki’s other friends had tried to arrange things such that someone was always with her ever since contact with the Trojan was lost. There had been no further news from Saturn.

“His father was killed in a Navy accident when he was just a boy,” Vicki said, almost to herself. “So I did the single-parent thing for a lot of years. Then Lan appeared and we started the consultancy in Texas, and he was probably the nearest thing to a father that Robin ever really knew. But he was always more of the loner kind of a kid—forever with his head in a book, or immersed in some project that he’d found on his own. Finally, he did start getting something of a life and friends together… and promptly lost all of it. Of course, everyone was affected. But Robin never really got over it. He was bitter and withdrawn the whole time we were on Dione. Nothing seemed to get through to him. Lan tried, so did Leo Cavan—he was a friend we’d known since Earth. Joining the Security Arm seemed almost like an act of defiance sometimes—as if he was trying to get some kind of message across. But then maybe it was just a way of escaping. I remember when he said he was going on the Jupiter mission, Lan and I thought it might have been the best thing that could have happened.”

Tanya sat, letting her talk it out. At least she wasn’t insulting Vicki’s intelligence by reciting inane things like “no news is good news,” or any of a dozen other platitudes that the occasion might have prompted.

Vicki contemplated the situation, conceding defeat, and shuffled up the cards to begin dealing out the array again. “Did you ever meet Sariena?”

“The Kronian scientist who was with the delegation that Gallian took to Earth?” Tanya shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard of her. Why?”

“She used to talk about the Kronians’ belief in us and the universe being here for a purpose—the opposite of what they used to teach on Earth. You were on Kronia long enough to know. Is that the way you see things too?”

“You mean about there being some kind of intelligence at work at the back of it all, that it was designed for a reason?”

“That’s part of it, yes. But more than just that. The whole experience of existence serves a purpose. Not so much what you become or who you end up being in worldly terms; but the experience itself. Period.”

“Well, yes, that’s how I was raised to think back home, so it comes pretty naturally to me. So many things make more sense that way. The particular person that you happen to be right now isn’t especially significant—like a vehicle that you use for a while, and then you’re done with. But there’s a more permanent something behind them all.”

“You mean a soul?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if people mean the same thing when they use words like that. But something that creates personalities of the right nature and in the right circumstances to undergo the experiences that it needs to learn and to grow. At least, that’s the way the Kronians I’ve talked to described it. I’m not really sure what I think, though.”

“Yes, that’s what I was getting at,” Vicki said. She wanted especially now to believe that there were good reasons why things happened the way they did; she needed to talk and hear about such things. Before she could put it into words, however, a buzz sounded, signaling that someone was at the door. Tanya touched a button on the remote lying near her.

“Yes, who is it?”

“Jan Wernstecki here. Is that Vicki?”

“Hi, Jan. No, it’s Tanya. But Vicki’s here too.” As she spoke, Tanya touched in the number to open the door.

Wernstecki came inside. “Hello,” to both. “How are you feeling, Vicki?”

“I’ll get by,” Vicki said.

“What is it?” Tanya asked.

Wernstecki looked mildly perplexed, as if at a loss to explain something. “I never believed in jinxes before,” he told them. “But you know, I’m beginning to think there’s one over this whole thing that we’re involved in. I’ve just heard it from the Bridge. Now there are communications problems with Earth. Electrical disturbances are swamping the whole region and affecting the links to both the Varuna and the Surya. They’re restricting traffic to official use only—and that’s very intermittent. The last that came in beamed at us said to hurry up with the lithoforming gear. They think maybe they’re going to need it.”

Which meant there would be nothing more coming in from Lan either—at least, for a while. Vicki’s dismay must have shown on her face. Tanya leaned forward and rested a hand lightly on her arm. “I know. Don’t let it get to you, Vicki,” she said. “Just try and believe it’s all for a reason.”

Keene and Shayle did a good job of simulating problems with the Agni‘s delivery system, which they solemnly diagnosed as being due to instabilities in the plasma focusing fields. Keene concocted a line of mumbo jumbo to the effect that they would need cooperation from the engineers up on the Varuna to rectify matters, and Zeigler authorized a communications channel to be opened. But the Varuna engineers were unable to make a lot of sense out of what Keene was telling them, not the least reason being that it didn’t make any sense, and he was unable to clarify things further because Zeigler’s people insisted on monitoring the link closely.

For the same reason, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t going to gain access to anyone connected with the ship’s communications, let alone initiate any kind of outward-going message for the Aztec. So, after playing the charade through for what he judged was long enough to be convincing, he announced the problem to be magically cured and signed an engineering report to that effect, leaving the Varuna crew bemused and confused—and Zeigler’s observers, he hoped, none the wiser.

He then went out to the edge of the landing area to stand staring at the hills and brood on his own.