Graves lacked that ability. As the hours wore on his agitation grew. He finally came back to the main chamber and joined the others, still restless.
“What’s the big deal?” Birdie Kelly asked. He had become Graves’s confidant, as well as the official custodian of E. C. Tally’s brain, which he carried with the distracted air of a man holding an unexploded bomb. “Tally isn’t suffering. Actually, he’s not doing anything at all. Must be nice to be able to switch yourself off when things get nasty.” Birdie became aware of Graves’s sightless glare. “Anyway, with the Zardalu gone, this place is safe enough. Come on, Councilor. Lighten up.”
“I’m not worrying about Tally. And I’m not worrying about us.” Graves flopped moodily down by one of the big Zardalu stasis tanks. “I’m worried about these.” He rapped the side of the tank. “And what was in them.”
“The Zardalu? They’re all dead.”
“Are they? Can you prove that to me?” Graves closed his blind eyes and slumped there breathing through his mouth. As usual when he spoke to Birdie, all his questions seemed to be rhetorical.
“I know they went down the vortex,” he continued, just when Kelly wondered if the councilor was falling asleep. “But who is to say that they are dead? Professor Lang is sure that the vortex is part of a transportation system. She says that Speaker-Between confirmed that, or at least didn’t deny it. Transportation systems are not designed to kill their passengers. Suppose that the Zardalu were transported safely — and have finished up somewhere in the spiral arm?”
“Suppose they were?” Birdie sniffed. “Big deal! They’ve been gone for God knows how long, eleven thousand years or something like that, and there’s only a few of them left. I’m not afraid of the Zardalu.” Not when they’re all dead, or thirty thousand light-years away, he added to himself. “I can’t see ’em doing much damage in a couple of days.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about!” Graves’s tone provided the “you idiot,” though he did not say the words. “I’m worried about tracing them. If this vortex is anything like a Bose Network Transition Point, the transition trail decays exponentially with time. Today we may be able to say just where they went. Tomorrow it becomes a bit more difficult. A week from now it’s a major task, and in a month it’s impossible no matter what technology you have available. The Zardalu could be tucked away where no one can find them. What do you say to that?”
Birdie was saved from saying anything by the return of Louis Nenda. That reluctant hero nodded coldly at Graves and Kelly and went over to the food-supply cabinets. He had a second satchel slung at his side, far bigger than his usual black one. He had made it, and a crude jacket, from webbing left behind by the Zardalu. He was packing the satchel and the jacket pockets with enough food for a week.
“Wish we had a way to heat this,” he grunted. “Cold food is lousy.” He turned to Graves. “Your buddy’s back, you know. Over in the next room but one.”
“Buddy?”
“Old moan-’n’-groan. Speaker-Between.”
Graves was on his feet at once. “What is he doing there?” But he did not wait for an answer. He was blundering out of the chamber, shouting to Lang and Rebka, who were deep in private conversation. “Professor! Captain! He is here. Now is our chance.”
“Chance for what?” Hans Rebka had been busy telling age-old lies to Darya Lang, with her thorough approval. But again Graves did not wait for an answer. He allowed Nenda to lead him through the nearest chambers, while the rest of the group followed at their own pace.
Nenda’s statement had been partly true. The Builder construct was half-visible, just the tail and lower part of the silver body. The upper part was presumably there, but it was hidden by the ceiling of the room, fifteen meters above their heads.
Graves listened to Nenda’s description in total frustration. “But if he’s stuck up there, how the devil am I supposed to—”
“Easy.” Nenda nodded to Kallik, who had entered with Atvar H’sial and J’merlia. “Go get ’em.”
The Hymenopt crouched on seven limbs — the lost eighth was regrowing fast, and nearly a foot long — and sprang straight up. She grabbed and swung on Speaker-Between’s barbed tail. After a few seconds, they both began to descend.
“The Zardalu are gone.” Graves started to speak even before Speaker-Between’s flower-petal head was fully in view. “But it is of paramount importance that we follow them — at once!”
“If you would kindly release my tail…” The silver pentagon turned slowly to face Graves. “Your request cannot be fulfilled. The Zardalu indeed are gone. I therefore judge that they are losers. You were able to defeat and banish them. But the evaluation is not yet over. Is it necessary to remind you that there can be only one species judged fit to work with the Builders? I would be derelict in my own duties should I halt this evaluation before it is complete.”
“You do not understand. Can you guarantee that the Zardalu were all killed when they entered the vortex?”
“One moment.” Speaker-Between coalesced to a sphere, then just as rapidly rippled back to form the horned and tailed chimera. “That question is not easy to answer,” he said when he was fully reconstructed. “The Zardalu suffered an unstructured transition. It is not one that is highly forbidden, and therefore it is not inevitably fatal. The Zardalu could have survived it. They may be alive. They may be all dead. What is the relevance of the question?”
“To you, perhaps very little. To us, and to all intelligences of the spiral arm, it is very great. If there is a chance that the Zardalu survive, it is imperative that we return to alert our fellows.”
“Imperative to whom? It is not imperative to me, or to my masters.” Speaker-Between floated toward Julius Graves, settling close enough for the councilor to reach out and touch him. “You do not appear to understand. There is no technical difficulty in returning you to your homes, or to any location in the spiral arm or out of it; and it may be possible to determine where the Zardalu went, though that is less sure. But those issues are academic. I say again, the selection procedure is not complete. There remain both humans and Cecropians. Until only one remains, it is not permitted for you to leave.”
“Hopeless.” Graves turned to the others. “Totally hopeless. I have worked with a score of intelligences, through the whole of the spiral arm, but with this — this silver bubble-brain there can be no meeting of minds, no basis for negotiation.”
“Mebbe. And mebbe not.” Louis Nenda glanced around at the others. “D’you agree with the councilor? Nothin’ to lose, nothin’ to gain? ’Cause if you do, mind if I take a shot?”
“Go ahead.” Hans Rebka had a little grin on his face. “Try your thing.”
“All right.” Nenda walked over to stand right in front of Speaker-Between. “The selection procedure isn’t over, you say. I’ll buy that. But the Zardalu are out of it, so it’s just between two species. Cecropians, and humans. Right?”