“Sir?” NuovyPs voice broke through my silence as me slider slowed. “Ah… this is where you said you wanted to be.”
“Thank you.” I unstrapped myself from the plastrene seat on the slider and stretched. It was a careful stretch. I’d learned about that on the first time on Danann.
Then we began to walk, following the beams of white-silver light, down the ice ramps and through the near-circular doors. Each door had been forced open with laser cutters—careless technology. It struck me as the equivalent of using a medieval battering ram to smash through a ship’s air lock, wasteful, destructive, and necessary because we had no other way to enter.
I walked down each corridor, peering into every chamber, looking for something small, even minute, but different. We walked every ramp and every corridor in five towers, before my feet and legs couldn’t take any more.
In the end, I didn’t find anything. Not on this excursion.
Nuovyl said nothing on the way back. I couldn’t blame him. He took his leave as soon as I was inside the temporary base.
Dr. Henjsen was appeared as I left the locker room after getting out of the space armor that chafed in too many places.
“You returned rather late, ser Barna.”
“Yes.”
“Did you discover anything?”
I shrugged. “Not yet.”
She laughed. It was a brittle sound, echoing harshly off the plastrene walls. “Everything is the same everywhere.”
How true was that? I thought for a moment. “No. We see the same things everywhere. That doesn’t mean that they are.”
“When it’s all hidden within the composites of the structures, that amounts to the same thing.”
It wasn’t, but I was tired and had no interest in arguing. “Perhaps.”
“If you plan more late excursions, ser Barna, I would appreciate your informing me. It complicates maintenance, and that requires additional preparation.”
“I trust that they will not be necessary.” I wasn’t promising that they wouldn’t occur. I was hoping that I wouldn’t need them. I could understand Kaitlin’s exasperation. She’d spent most of her time planetside. Her face was drawn and grayish, and she’d lost weight. For all of the efforts everyone had made, the expedition didn’t know all that much more about Danann and the aliens who had built it than we had learned in the first few days. That had been clear from what Elysen had said and from my own small efforts.
“I would hope not. The techs are strained enough as matters are.”
“I understand.”
“Good night, ser Barna.” She turned and left me standing in the corridor.
Every muscle ached. I knew sleep wouldn’t take away all the discomfort.
There had to be something—something that showed the aliens’ art and being. My lips curled. Lazar was trying to find something of their physics, Fitzhugh of their history, Sorens of their materials… and with all of our technology and expertise none of us had discovered anything new in nearly two months.
There had to be something… but I was too tired to ponder it at that moment.
53
Fitzhugh
On a fiveday, three days after I was out of sick bay, finally, I received an invitation to the captain’s table for the evening meal, as she had indicated when she had visited me in sick bay, not that I recalled it well. I found myself placed immediately to her right. To the captain’s left was Special Deputy Minister Allerde, wearing, as he always did, an old-style shipsuit, rather man the skintights, shorts, and vest of the space service. His ship-suit was all gray, of a shade I could only have termed faded. Even his iron gray hair had more color than the shipsuit He surveyed me with eyes that were close together, deep-set, and black.
Neither the executive officer nor Commander Morgan was present at the table. I thought I’d seen Lieutenant Chang slip into a chair at one of the outer tables, but I was essaying to keep my concentration on the captain and the minister. I was still more tired than I would have liked, and Dr. DeLisle had suggested—more than firmly—that I was not to resume any strenuous exercise until he checked me over in another three days. He’d also defined exactly what light exercises he wanted. The manner in which my muscles inadvertently contracted in unexpected and unanticipated fashions had convinced me that his advice was to be heeded.
I tendered a pleasant smile to Captain Spier. She was anything but physically impressive, far smaller and more slender than Lieutenant Chang, and with short-cut red hair without the intensity of flame, nor the depth of mahogany, yet not washed-out. But when she turned to me, the gray eyes focused with the energy of a D.S.S. laser.
“It’s good to see you back on your feet, Professor.” Her brief smile was as intense as her gaze, and warm, rather than cold.
“Thank you. My present position is most definitely superior to the one in which I’ve spent much of the last weeks.”
“His wit hasn’t suffered, either,” murmured someone farther down the table.
The captain smiled, suffusing even more warmth, if possible. “I’ve always appreciated those whose acts reflect their beliefs, especially when they speak directly, as you do, Professor. I’m not terribly fond of sotto voce commentary, although some individuals tend to forget that unless their memory is frequently refreshed.”
The captain’s integral directness suggested an officer whose awareness was magnified by her intelligence, an intelligence capable of assessing threats both obvious and insidious without being constrained by paranoia. That considered, I had no desire to be one whose actions displeased her. “An ancient saying suggests that there are those who forget nothing, but learn nothing as well. I can see it would be well not to follow that misguided precept.”
The hint of a frown appeared on the Special Deputy Minister’s face. The expression suggested that he was more courtier than politician or trusted technical staff with a title. While I preferred not to displease Allerde, either, my mind was not so sharp as it could have been.
“Memory, of course,” I added as smoothly as I could, trying not to flog myself mentally for stupidity, “is an essential tool in politics, but one subject to misuse by those less experienced than, say, Special Deputy Minister Allerde.”
The captain laughed. “I see how you have survived and prospered, Professor.”
“No, Captain, you see that I have survived in spite of my excessive verbiage.”
Even Allerde laughed, if in a more restrained fashion.
Very little conversation—other than polite phrases and requests—occurred until the captain was initially served.
“In addition to your considerable martial arts skills, Professor Fitzhugh,” Allerde said into the thickening silence, “you are reputed to be quite the scholar. With all that background—and wit—what historical perspective on Danann can you provide?”
“I have only been on the planet for a few days, Minister Allerde, although I have perused many of the reports and images that have been transmitted to the Magellan.” How far should I go? I offered a laugh. “And, given my physical condition, it may be some time before I’m allowed to return. Still, there are some factors that appear intriguing and suggest possibilities.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of the wine—Riesling, formulated and exceedingly ersatz.
“Would you share those… possibilities?” Allerde pressed, his voice unctuously polite.
“I would be more than happy to do so,” I lied, “but I would also reiterate that they are nothing more than possibilities based on egregiously inadequate information and data.”