The sea was high, and the wind tried to push him into the water. The e-suit kept him comfortable but he knew it was cold out there.
He signaled to Kellie, and she began to pull away. “Good luck, Champ,” she said.
Digger hurried off the pier and slipped into a narrow street. There were small wooden buildings on either side, mostly sheds. But there was noise ahead: music and loud gargling sounds and pounding like the pounding he’d heard on the road. He rounded a corner and saw an open-front café.
It was half-empty, but the Goompahs inside were drinking, eating, dancing, and having a good time. The café was located in a dreary four-story stone building. A stout wooden canopy was erected to protect daytime patrons from the sun. He stood beneath it, peering into the interior, when two Goompahs he had not seen passed behind him and wandered into the café without giving him a second look.
He strolled closer, squeezing down inside his shirt and pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his face.
The pickups, because they were jury-rigged, were of different sizes and shapes. Each had a strip of adhesive affixed that would allow him to attach it to a flat surface.
The café was an ideal spot, and the obvious flat surface was in the juncture of cross-fitting wooden beams supporting the canopy. Digger wandered casually close to it, and was able to stay out of sight of the customers while he put one of the notebooks in place. He’d have preferred to install it higher, where it would be less visible and out of everyone’s reach. But it was reasonably well hidden, and he thought it would probably be okay for a while.
He withdrew into the shadows and away from the noise. “Jack,” he said. “I just planted number four. How’s it look?”
“Good. Perfect. One thing, we won’t have any problem hearing them.”
The area was lined with wooden stalls hung with skins. Rain poured down on them. Somewhere, down the street and around a corner, there was more noise. Another drinking establishment, obviously. He tried to look in a couple of the shops, but they were locked.
The streets were becoming a swamp. Occasionally, figures hurried along, bundled against the downpour, too intent on keeping dry to think much about strangers. One of these came out from behind a wall without warning and almost collided with Digger. The creature said something, glanced at him, and its eyes went wide. Digger smiled back and said, “Hi,” in his best falsetto.
The creature shrieked.
Digger broke into a run, turned left behind a shed, cut across a muddy expanse of open ground, and found himself in a quiet street of stone-and-brick houses. He listened for a long moment, heard sounds of commotion behind him, but there was no evidence of pursuit.
“How you doing?” asked Kellie. He jumped at the sound of the voice.
“I just crashed into one of them.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I never kid. I think the thing saw enough of me to realize I wasn’t a local.” He couldn’t altogether keep the pride out of his voice.
“Are you okay now?”
He found an alley and turned into it. “I think so.”
“If he gets too curious, just show him what you really look like.”
“Har, har.” The sounds behind him were dying down. And the street remained empty.
“Maybe you should just plant the pickups and get back here.”
“Relax,” he said. “Everything’s under control.” But something was coming. Two animals, large-jawed, trimmer than the rhinos, sort of like fat horses. Two Goompahs rode them, bent against the storm. He hurried to the other end of the alley and came out on a street that was given over to more shops.
He found occasional bits of vegetable and meat or fish lying about. He recovered them and dropped them into sample bags, grateful for the Flickinger field that prevented his having to touch them. Some of the stuff looked repulsive.
He broke into a storage building, found an office, and planted one of Kellie’s pickups. He got it up on a shelf, between vases, where it seemed relatively safe. The truth was that none of these devices could really be hidden. Later, when the shipment they’d been promised from Broadside showed up, they’d be working with units not much bigger than coins.
He hid the third pickup in a tree near a meat shop. And the fourth in a park, aimed at a couple of benches.
Two blocks away, there were buildings whose architecture had been taken seriously and which were therefore probably either public or religious. Or both.
Several of them had signs outside. The signs contained some hand-drawn pictures, of Goompahs, and of a boat, and, on another, of a torch. There was writing on all of them, delicate, slender characters that reminded him of Arabic.
He took pictures, then tried a door. It opened, and he stepped into a long, high-ceilinged hallway. No lights anywhere. No sounds.
The floor might have been made of marble. The walls were dark-stained wood, and suggested that the authorities were not without resources. Several sets of large doors lined the corridor. He opened one and looked in.
It might have been a theater-in-the-round. Or possibly an auditorium. A platform stood in the center of a large room, surrounded by several hundred oversize seats.
Perfect. Digger found a column, climbed atop a seat, and attached the last pickup, the remaining notebook, as high as he could, aiming it at the platform.
They tested it on the lander, and Jack pronounced it satisfactory.
Time to go back.
THE RAIN HAD finally stopped, and Digger was within a block of the waterfront, moving through the shadows, when a pair of doors directly across the street banged open, light spilled into the night, and a crowd began to pile out. It was too late to duck, so he tried to squeeze down, to minimize his height, and kept going. But several were looking at him already. And the voices died off completely. “I’ve attracted attention, Jack.”
“You need help?”
Sure. A lot of help Jack would be. “No. Stay put. I think they they’re wondering about my size.”
“Yeah. It’s probably not de rigueur in that neighborhood.”
Digger wished he had a bigger collar to pull up. He stared at the street and kept walking, but he could feel their eyes on him until he got past them. He wanted to break into a run. He heard nothing behind him. No movement, no sound. It was eerie.
A Goompah appeared in front, coming in his direction. On the same side of the street. There was no way to get around him, no way to avoid being seen. The Goompah’s eyes reacted, in a reflex that was becoming painfully familiar. It squealed, turned, and fled. The shriek triggered the crowd, which joined in the screaming, but they were coming after him. Something sailed past his head.
That put Digger in the impossible position of seeming to chase the fleeing Goompah, whose cries must have been audible all over the waterfront.
They reached the end of the street, the Goompah barreling along in abject terror, Digger right on its heels. It turned right, the direction Dig needed to go to get to the pier where the rendezvous was to take place. But the creature, out of its mind with fear, fell down and rolled out of the way.
Digger was distancing the crowd. “Jack,” he said, “pier in three minutes.”
ALL FIVE PICKUPS passed their field tests, and they were recording that night. Digger watched and listened with satisfaction as the day’s customers haggled and pleaded, criticized and pressed their hands to the tops of their skulls in dismay. They watched a supervisor behind a desk working with subordinates and occasionally reporting to others to whom he was responsible. They watched young Goompahs romp in a park while older ones sat on benches and carried on animated conversations. And they watched a seminar of some sort conducted from the stage in the public building. Digger was surprised how easy it became to interpret substantial passages of the conversation.
Meantime a fresh transmission came in from Hutch. When Jack saw it, he ran it for all of them.
“Help is coming. The al-Jahani will have left by the time you receive this. Dave Collingdale is heading up the operation, and he needs as much information as you can get him. Particularly anything that will allow him to gain access to the language.
“Also, we’re dispatching the Cumberland from Broadside to take supplies and equipment to you. It’ll take off anybody who wants to go home. But it won’t be able to leave for a few days yet. It looks as if it’ll be about seven weeks before you’ll see it. I hate to ask this of you, but it’s essential that we keep somebody at the scene to learn whatever we can. So I need you to hang on there until it arrives. I know that’s not exactly the mission plan, and it’s an inconvenience to you. But you’ll understand this is a special circumstance.
“Also, I need to know what you want to do. We have to maintain an Academy presence until the al-Jahani gets there. But that won’t be until December. Do you want to stay on? Or do you want me to organize a relief mission? Jack, I’d prefer to have you stay, but I understand if you feel enough is enough. Let me know.
“The Cumberland will be carrying shipments of lightbenders and pickups. Plant as many of the devices as you can. It’s essential that we get the language down.
“All data relating to the Goompahs should be designated for relay by Broadside directly to the al-Jahani, and I’d appreciate it if you included me as an information addee.
“Thanks, guys. I know this doesn’t make you happy, but if it means anything, I’m grateful.”
There was a long silence when the Academy logo appeared on-screen. They looked at one another, and Kellie grinned. “The aliens are lunatics,” she said. “And the cloud is coming. Is there anyone who wants to go home?”
It wasn’t exactly what Digger had hoped to hear.
IN FACT, THERE was one. “I don’t plan to spend the next year or so of my life out here,” Winnie told Jack. “It’d be different if there were something constructive I could do. But I’m not needed. I’m ready to head out.”
So was Digger. But Kellie wouldn’t be leaving, so he wasn’t about to go anyplace. Digger let her see that he wanted to stay on, wanted to be part of a major achievement, and all that. The truth was, he wanted Kellie, and everything else was a sideshow. But with Kellie watching, he had no choice but to play the selfless hero. He knew her too well and understood clearly what would happen to her respect for him if he didn’t stand up and do his duty.