Niburu looked up, not looking surprised, but faintly querulous at the sound of Reede’s laughter. Saroon twisted around guiltily where he sat, as if he was afraid to be caught enjoying himself. He scrambled to his feet, picking up his gun.
Reede’s laughter stopped as second thoughts hit him, and he realized that what he’d seen did not amuse him at all. He glared at Niburu. “Let’s go.” Niburu shut off the game and slipped it into his pocket. He took his place behind the controls without comment; the expression on his face said one look at their own haunted expressions as they reentered the rover was all the explanation he needed.
They left the island and returned to the campsite, without incident or distractions. Ananke met them as they landed, with obvious relief. Hundet watched, unmoved and unmoving, as Saroon helped them maneuver the containment unit on its floating grid into the confines of their makeshift laboratory.
Reede watched Gundhalinu surreptitiously but carefully, relieved to see that the other man’s attention seemed to be perfectly focused on the experiment they were about to conduct. It was almost as if the Lake was letting him breathe, letting him think Reede had no objection. The unnerving reaction he had had to his own close encounter with the Lake yesterday no longer plagued him much. He wondered if it was extending him the same courtesy, or if they had both simply begun to get used to it, as Gundhalinu had predicted.
“All right,” Gundhalinu said, when the containment unit was secure. “Niburu, I want you to take everyone else up in the rover. Circle and wait until we contact you … or we don’t. You understand?”
Niburu nodded, all the expression going out of his face as the implications of the words registered. “Is it that dangerous?” he asked, with an incredulity that struck Reede as absurdly childlike. “I … wanted to watch.” He glanced at Reede, habitually checking for his reaction. “I thought the vaccine worked perfectly, when you tried it before.”
Reede controlled his impulse co frown, and nodded. “It did. But we only had a fraction of this amount, and a lot more control over the situation. There shouldn’t be any problem. But Gundhalinu’s seen what happens if there is one.” He turned, meeting Gundhalinu’s steady gaze. “You know,” he said suddenly, “it only takes one of us to do this. Why don’t you go with them? You shouldn’t risk your neck.” He felt Niburu look at him with something like surprise. He felt an odd surprise of his own, as he realized that to some part of him the survival of his work was actually more important than his mission here, or even his own survival… .
Gundhalinu raised an eyebrow. “I have complete faith in this process,” he said.
Reede did frown, this time. “That’s stupid. Don’t be an ass. If we were both killed, there’d be nobody who could recreate it.”
Gundhalinu smiled. “It’s completely documented.” His eyes were full of a strange light. “Reede, I’ve been waiting years for this moment … maybe a lifetime.”
Reede shrugged, and smiled grudgingly. He had made certain that the documentation of his own work was critically incomplete; no one but Gundhalinu, who had worked so closely with him, would have even a chance of recreating everything they had done. “All right. I guess I understand that… . Niburu, clear the area.” He gestured, catching a glimpse of something that might have been admiration, or even envy, in the final look Niburu gave the two of them. Niburu led Ananke and Saroon out of the lab.
When they were gone Reede began preparations. Gundhalinu matched him move for move with calm efficiency, as if they had always worked together. Step by step they sealed the dome inside a field of protective energy, woke the monitors, brought on line the processors that would introduce the vaccine into the containment unit, and double-checked their peripheral equipment. Reede removed a vial of vaccinated plasma from its insulated case and inserted it into the access on the outer shield of the unit.
The all-clear notification came over the comm link from the rover as the last systems check finished running. Reede spoke the commands to the processor, pressed his thumb against the glowing spot on its panel that set the procedure in motion. Gundhalinu stood beside him, and Reede watched as he put a knuckle in his mouth and bit down.
Reede pulled at his ear, waiting instinctively for a feedback that did not come—that never came. He was suddenly aware of the unbearable sensation of not-hearing that had tormented him ever since he could remember; that was not deafness, that was … that was— Angrily he wrenched his attention back to the displays in front of him, watching as the screen showed him a primitive three-dimensional visual of what was happening inside the unit.
They watched as the vaccine was funneled into place; as the unit followed their precise orders step by step, releasing constraints, dropping shields … opening the cage of stasis that held the stardrive plasma precariously captive. Reede’s hands opened with a spasm as the vaccine was delivered.
The static mass of light that was the image of what lay inside the containment unit came alive m simulation as the stardrive plasma was set free. He saw it boiling, mutating, diffracting, until the simulation before him became a vision of chaos, utterly incomprehensible to his eyes. Gundhalinu swore, holding his head with his hands.
Reede forced his eyes to stay open when they would have closed, and saw the seething chaos take on a new form—a form that slowly began to alter, until he realized that it was making sense to his eyes, the patterns coalescing into the random forms of flames, of frost, of alien coastlines … the rate of change slowing, their mutation slowly, as what lay inside the container surrendered to rationality and order, and came to rest at last firmly connected to the reality stream in which it had been created. Waiting. Waiting for their command.
Reede sucked in a breath, let it out in a hoarse cry of triumph. He turned, catching Gundhalinu by the shoulders, embracing him.
“It worked …” Gundhalinu whispered, dazed. “It worked! Didn’t it—?” His own hands closed over Reede’s, still clutching his arms.
“Yes.” Reede looked back at the displays. “It’s under control. We did it! We got it—we got all of it!” He looked at Gundhalinu again; found his hands somehow touching the other man, Gundhalinu’s hands covering his own. He pulled free, stumbling back.
Gundhalinu nodded, oblivious. “Yes, I feel it … I felt it happen.” His voice was choked with emotion. He rubbed his face, almost as if he were wiping away tears. Reede wondered if it was relief, or pain, or joy that had hold of him now—what a man would feel who had gone through all the hell that Gundhalinu had gone through, for the sake of the Lake, for the sake of his own sanity.
Reede felt happy—pleased with himself, in a clean, matter-of-fact way that he did not feel very often. But the rush of triumph that had filled him as the plasma had come under control had dissipated as suddenly, when he looked into Gundhalinu’s eyes; emotions had gone flat, as if it were all an anticlimax, and he had no idea why.
He shook his head, telling himself that this was only the first stage of his real victory, that he would feel the real pleasure when he had taken what he had come here to get. and returned with it to Mundilfoere. Mundilfoere, whose love was all the human contact he desired. Mundilfoere, whose touch could make him forget everything, anything … even this moment. He stared at the displays, still telling him just what he wanted them to say.