There was a louder series of clicks from Holder as those words were passed on.
“But you suggested that you could. You must be taught a lesson,” Kallik translated.
Another tentacle came forward and wrapped its ropy end section around Nenda’s left leg. It began to pull. As the limb was slowly twisted and stretched downward, Nenda roared in agony.
“Let him go! Right now.” Julius Graves rashly ran forward to stretch up and beat at the Zardalu’s lower body. Another tentacle came up and batted him contemptuously away. At the same time, Kallik produced a rapid series of chirps and whistles.
The twisting and pulling ended, and Nenda sagged in the Zardalu’s grasp.
“I have explained,” Kallik said to Graves, lying winded on the floor, “that humans are quite different from Hymenopts. The removal of any limb would be far more serious in Louis Nenda’s case than in mine. It would probably result in death.”
Graves nodded. But as Nenda’s leg was released, Holder spoke again to Kallik.
“Holder asks,” the Hymenopt said to Nenda, “why should your death matter? You were once my master, and perhaps I am trying to serve you, even now. I said that is not so. But Holder points out that the young ones are in need of proper food, and the value of your continued existence is not clear. Holder is sure that you were attempting to spy, even though you deny it. and Finder, the Zardalu who captured you, thought that it saw another stranger, far along the corridor, one that fled when you were taken. Another spy, perhaps, who escaped when you could not? But that is not the issue here. Can you suggest one reason why you should be allowed to live? If so, give it quickly.”
Nenda glanced at Julius Graves and Birdie Kelly, then looked away. His face and neck were covered in sweat. “I can give Holder a reason,” he said huskily. “That is why I came here. I can be very valuable to you, if you will promise that my life will be spared. And if you don’t hurt me any more. I am not able to — to stand more pain.”
“Holder is amused by your ignorance and presumption,” Kallik replied after another brief exchange with the Zardalu leader. “A Zardalu makes no promise. But it will listen to you, rather than killing you at once. What do you possibly have that is of value?”
Nenda licked his lips. “Tell Holder this. They want to escape from here and get back to a planet in the old Zardalu Communion. Well, I can show them how to do it. Right now.”
Another whistled exchange. “Holder does not believe you.”
“Tell Holder that I can prove it. In her travels through this artifact, one of our party found the entry point to a Builder transportation system. She told the rest of us about it — explained exactly where it is, how to use it. It’s in working order. Tell Holder I can take her there, and they can be on their way to where they want to go. They’ll be gone before Speaker-Between even knows they found the entry point.”
“Nenda! You can’t do this.” Julius Graves had dragged himself back to his feet. “God knows, I don’t want you or anyone else killed. But think of what you’ll be doing if you show them how to make a transition. You’ll be putting Zardalu back into the spiral arm, letting them run free to start their—”
A muscular tentacle reached out and swatted Graves across his upper arm and shoulder. Graves cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor.
Birdie Kelly hurried across to his side. While the Zardalu held a longer conversation among themselves, he examined Graves.
“Not broken,” he said softly. “A deep bruise. Maybe a cracked collarbone, though I don’t think so. Hold still. Don’t try to move your arm. I’ll tie it against your chest.” He glared across at Louis Nenda and raised his voice. “And you, you bag of slime. You’re worse than Kallik. You’d better hope we don’t get out of this alive. Or your name and Kallik’s will be a curse everywhere in the spiral arm.”
“Silence.” Kallik gestured to J’merlia, who had all the time been crouched close to the floor, his pale-lemon eyes jittering nervously on their stalks from one speaker to the next. The Lo’tfian crept forward to stand next to Julius Graves.
“Help him to walk, J’merlia, if he needs it,” Kallik said. “Holder has decided. We are going with Nenda — all of us. The Zardalu will inspect the transportation system. And it had better function as Nenda promises, or you will all suffer.” She pointed one wiry limb at the Zardalu standing next to her, where a pale-orange oval was just visible behind the fringe of tentacles. “Holder says we should not try to escape as we travel. The young ones are hungry. They do not mind how their food is provided to them — dead, or alive.”
The journey through the darker tunnels of the Builder artifact took a long time. The Zardalu were willing to investigate Louis Nenda’s claim, but they were not naive enough to believe that there was no trickery or traps. They went slowly, using hostages to probe suspect areas and inspecting every corridor closely before they went into it.
Julius Graves and J’merlia were made to walk in front, as triggers for possible booby traps. They were closely followed by six Zardalu. Birdie Kelly, next in line, was amazed to see that the newly born were still emerging, even while the blue towers in front of him were gliding forward. As he watched, the bright apricot of two more miniature Zardalu emerged from their birth sacs in the necklace of pouches. As soon as they were completely born they slithered down the rubbery, oil-coated trunk to take refuge beneath the main body, sheltered by surrounding tentacles. Minutes later the little beaks appeared, begging for food. The parents fed them as they walked with scraps taken from the broad webbing satchels circling the base of their torsos.
Louis Nenda was at Kelly’s side. Birdie rebuffed the other man’s attempt to talk to him. After a couple of tries Nenda turned around to Kallik, who walked at the rear in the middle of the remaining eight Zardalu.
“Ask Holder somethin’, will you?” he said. “Ask what happens when we get to the transportation system. Remind her how much I’m doing to help ’em. Say it’s only fair that I should be set free.”
There was a fluting whistle from the giant Zardalu as the message was translated.
“Holder agrees, at least in part,” Kallik said. “If everything is as you promised, you will not be killed. If everything is not as you say, you should be trembling.”
Birdie turned his head. “You ought to be eaten, Nenda, you lousy traitor. That’d save the rest of us — because your stinking carcass would poison every Zardalu that touched it. If there’s any justice, you’ll be the first to go.”
“Justice? Ah, but there ain’t no justice, Commissioner.” Nenda was staring all around him, eyes bloodshot and intense. “Not here, and not anywhere in the spiral arm. You’ve been around long enough to know that. There’s only people like you and me, and blue bastards like the Zardalu.”
Birdie glared at him. The damnable thing was that Nenda was right. There was no justice. There never had been, and there never would be. If there were, he would not be here at all. He would be back home on Opal, safe in bed.
Birdie made his own gloomy inspection of their surroundings as they walked on through dark corridors and big, open chambers. Even this tiny piece of the artifact was huge and eerily alien. Since arriving here and being captured by the Zardalu, he had been dragged from one place to the next, never having an opportunity to know quite where he was going or why. Now, examining the objects that they passed, Birdie realized that he could not guess the purpose of any of them. Something certainly kept the place ticking; there was fresh air in the corridors, food in the lockers, and functioning waste disposal units for beings with needs as different as those of humans and Lo’tfians and Zardalu. But it was a wholly hidden something. There was no sign of mechanisms, no pumps or supply lines or ducting. Birdie had no idea how the artifact functioned. It was depressing to reflect that he was never likely to know.