Hans Rebka had listened carefully to every word. He decided that he understood the problem: although E.C. Tally was totally logical, the embodied robot was also totally crazy. Unless you got lucky, and found either another Bose node or a Builder transport vortex, a subluminal trip to the nearest stellar system was a multi-year proposition.
But maybe you didn’t have to be crazy—just have an indefinitely long life-span, like an embodied computer.
Julian Graves said, “You leave one important point unspecified. Who would undertake such a journey?”
“Why, I would. Who else?”
“Who else, indeed? I need time to consider your suggestion, and also Professor Lang’s. Does anyone have other ideas to offer?”
Graves was already on his feet, ready to end the meeting, when Louis Nenda coughed and said, “Yeah. Well, maybe. Though the last thing I offered got shot to hell. Thing is, At and me figure the rest of you are missing a big piece of all this. What about the Polypheme?”
“Mr. Nenda, you are the one who pointed out that Chism Polyphemes are the most crooked, unreliable, deceitful species in the galaxy.”
“Absolutely. Did I mention they’re also totally self-serving? If I didn’t, I should have. But you had a Polypheme piloting the ship with the Marglotta on board. More than that, by the time it reached Miranda it was a dead Polypheme, something nobody I know ever saw or heard of. Polyphemes may not live forever, but they do their best to. So At an’ me, we asked ourselves, why would a Polypheme get mixed up in tryin’ to help the Marglotta? We can come up with only one answer: the Polyphemes are involved because they’re scared light green. An’ why? ’Cause their home world is next on the list, or maybe next but one. Otherwise, they wouldn’t give a damn what happened to the Marglot system. So if anyone can tell us what’s goin’ on, the Polyphemes can.”
“Mr. Nenda, what you say may well be true. There is, however, a fatal flaw in your argument: we have no idea where the Polypheme home world might be, and we know they will do everything they can to conceal that knowledge from us.”
“The hell with their home world. We don’t need it. Polyphemes gossip and gabble like nobody’s business. You can bet your ass and hat that if the whole species is in trouble, any Polypheme you run into is likely to know about it. I don’t want all the Chism Polyphemes. I just want one, and a chance to pull information out of it.”
“How would you do that?”
“Don’t you worry your head. I got my methods.”
“I would be concerned by that statement, but for one thing: you have no Polypheme.”
“Not yet. But I think I know a way to snag me one. Only thing is, it’s going to take a few more hours of work before we know what we got.”
“Indeed? Then a few more hours is what you will have. Not, I should add, for your benefit but for my own.” Julian Graves surveyed the group. “I am sure it is hardly necessary to point out that we have gone from a paucity of ideas as to where we are or what we should do next, to a superabundance of theories. It is perhaps also unnecessary to remark that when three suggestions appear equally plausible, there is a better than fifty-fifty chance that any given one of them is wrong. I will inform you tomorrow of the result of my deliberations.”
Julian Graves stood up and left the chamber. It was obvious that he was in no mood for further discussion, but Hans Rebka hurried out after him.
“Councilor, I know you have not yet made a decision but I want to point something out to you. It would be absolutely criminal to permit Darya Lang to head down to the surface of Iceworld unless someone who knows what he is doing goes with her.”
“It certainly would, Captain Rebka.” Graves turned in the doorway. “Your concerns are noted. They are, however, premature. I request that you, like everyone else, wait until tomorrow before you jump to conclusions. Please do not pursue me further.”
A wave of his arm, and the door closed.
Hans Rebka was left alone in the corridor with another mystery to ponder: How could somebody with so little idea of danger be placed in charge of an expedition so far beyond the boundaries of known space?
CHAPTER NINE
The parting of the ways
Louis Nenda was out of the meeting chamber almost as quickly as Hans Rebka. He, however, had no thought of pursuing Julian Graves. His interest was in returning to the Have-It-All as fast as possible.
He left Atvar H’sial to make her way back at her own speed, and as soon as he was in the corridor leading to the ship’s computer center, he was calling, “Hey, how are you doing?”
His question was intended for Kallik and J’merlia. The doorway, however, was blocked by the massive body of Archimedes. Rebka was presented with a view of the Zardalu’s midnight-blue hind end.
He kicked at one of the thick tentacles and tried to squeeze past. “Kallik? J’merlia? What the hell’s going on here? I didn’t tell you to let Archie push his way in.”
“With respect, Master Nenda, Archimedes did not enter unsanctioned.” J’merlia’s voice came from beyond the mass of leathery flesh. “Kallik and I invited his presence.”
“Why’d you do a thing like that?” Louis pushed, and the Zardalu wriggled a little to one side. “Archie doesn’t know a damn thing about Bose nodes.”
“That is true.” J’merlia, in the absence of his dominatrix Atvar H’sial, tended to speak too much rather than too little. “Archimedes knows nothing of such things, nor does he need to. Kallik and I completed that phase of the analysis more than an hour ago. As you instructed, we began with the data bank from the ship of the dead Polypheme. It contained many thousands of Bose point references within the Sag Arm, many of which doubtless follow the Polypheme custom of providing spurious data to confuse other would-be users. We sought to eliminate those from consideration by correlating them with star positions. We argued that although Bose transition points in empty space certainly exist—such points led us across the Gulf—the ones in a navigation catalog are likely to lie at reasonable sub-lightspeed travel distance from habitable worlds. This reduced the number of nodes to be considered, to nine hundred and twenty-seven. This, however, is still far too many to be of practical value—”
“Hold on. I didn’t ask for a lecture. I asked what this lump of fat and gristle is doing in here.”
“With respect, Master Nenda.” Kallik pushed around the other side of the Zardalu. “The presence of Archimedes was not relevant to the Bose node analysis. He was, however, essential to the task that evolved from it. My eyesight is excellent, and so is that of J’merlia. But neither can compare with that.” The Hymenopt pointed to Archimedes’s head. The eye-pupils of the Zardalu were each the size of Louis’s fist. “The spatial resolution that Archimedes can achieve is so good that we have trouble believing the results.”
“I still don’t get it. What did you have Archie looking at, that anybody cares about?”
The Zardalu must have understood the sense of the question, if not the full meaning. Archimedes produced an urgent series of clicks and held out toward Louis a big sheet of hardboard.
“Our apologies if we have exceeded your orders.” The little Hymenopt bowed her round black head. “If I may continue with what J’merlia was saying, we reduced the number of stars with associated Bose nodes to nine hundred and twenty-seven. However, you had suggested as you left that you were most interested in Bose nodes close to neutron stars. You did not say why, but I made an inference as to your intentions. A Chism Polypheme, as we learned from our earlier experiences with them, enjoys hard radiation. Hence, a natural question: Do any neutron stars close to Bose nodes possess planets? Unfortunately, this was not a question that either J’merlia and I could answer using our instruments and our observations. Archimedes, however, was able to do so. He has been transcribing his results.”