Part 76 (1/2)

Phillipe nodded.

”If he is right, though, there is nothing left that could possibly be salvaged. Now the Vache artifact...” he trailed off with a pregnant gesture of the two hands.

”Is Bonsard at the site now?”

Raoul grunted an affirmative.

”I knew his aunt back in N'Porprince,” Phillipe volunteered. ”She worked in my section at the ministry. Grumpy middle-aged woman. Liked nothing better than giving unfavorable reports on everyone. Like a child tattling on his fellows. M. Caneton dozed at his desk this afternoon. M. Belledor arrived late again this morning. Well, it must have an effect. See, here I am on this little moon, and poor Belledor found himself drafted. Can you imagine Christophe as marine?” He chuckled ruefully.

He recovered from the moment's reverie. ”Raoul,” he resumed, ”why all the fuss anyway, over the artifact? Ancient objects have been found before. Is this one so special? Why do we not s.h.i.+p it back to N'Haiti if it is?”

Raoul rose from his chair and began to pace about the office. ”Credit the clever Captain Edouard Bonsard for that. He thinks it is a weapon. He thinks that it can be repaired and used as a defense in case the enemy attack us here.”

Phillipe rose, dismayed. ”But the whole N'Yu-Atlanchi operation depends on stealth. Everyone agrees that we cannot fortify that entire planet. The conditions there-the crystal barely sustains the weight we place on it now. If we brought in weapons-” he shook his head.

”Right. So we have some weapons here on Cayamitte and on Vache, but mainly we rely on stealth. The blancs blancs are busy defending their own world and trying to attack N'Haiti, as long as they do not know about the N'Yu-Atlanchi project, it should be reasonably safe.” are busy defending their own world and trying to attack N'Haiti, as long as they do not know about the N'Yu-Atlanchi project, it should be reasonably safe.”

”So?”

”So, still Bonsard wants more defense. And he believes that he can repair the Vache artifact and that it is a weapon.”

”And you think-what?”

”I think he is right!”

”Then why do you oppose him?”

”Because, first of all, I am not sure sure he is right. The artifact might prove to be-anything-once it is repaired. he is right. The artifact might prove to be-anything-once it is repaired. Probably Probably it is a weapon. But what if it is a beacon that will communicate with someone incredibly distant and alien who left it there on Vache? Or a vehicle? Or some sort of automatic manufactory? Or-” again ”-anything? It should be studied with the utmost caution, by qualified researchers. And Captain Bonsard has just taken it upon himself to try to repair it. it is a weapon. But what if it is a beacon that will communicate with someone incredibly distant and alien who left it there on Vache? Or a vehicle? Or some sort of automatic manufactory? Or-” again ”-anything? It should be studied with the utmost caution, by qualified researchers. And Captain Bonsard has just taken it upon himself to try to repair it.

”Second, if it is a weapon, what kind of weapon? Does it fire projectiles? Beams of some sort? What if it is a bomb, a dud, and once repaired it will blow itself up and half of Vache with it? Bonsard is risking too much!”

Alone in its minis.h.i.+p coffin, the dessicated corpse that had once been Gunner Corporal Leander Laptip of the N'Alabama s.p.a.cerines floated serenely among the stars. An automatic pickup beacon in the minis.h.i.+p broadcast its distress call, but with limited power and at mere light speed, it was unlikely ever to be picked up by a potential rescuer. And if it were, what good would that do?

Leander Laptip didn't care if he ever ever was rescued. was rescued.

But the beacon went out, and the s.h.i.+p continued to float, coasting along in a more-or-less straight trajectory as it had on its small self-contained power charge. Too small for an agonized-matter system, the minis.h.i.+p couldn't get either the speed or the powered range of a big stars.h.i.+p, but coasting it could go forever.

It might have headed anywhere. Leander Laptip didn't care that his body happened to be headed toward the star designated NGC 7007.

Captain Bonsard accepted the micro circuit-layer from the ordnance sergeant and bent over the last remaining gap in the circuitry of the artifact. His eyes felt tired and his fingers trembled from the fine work, and to relax he hunkered back on his heels and looked up at the sky.

”Good to be rid of those overcautious busybody civilians, eh, Sergeant?” he said.

Agreement crackled back through his helmet radio.

”Now, we'll get this thing finished and see about testing it out,” the captain went on.

The sergeant said, ”Yes, sir.”

Captain Bonsard stretched his arms to get out any kinks. Overhead he could see the tiny blob of Cayamitte and huge globe of N'Yu-Atlanchi, glowing and glittering, turquoise and sunflower, as always a beautiful sight against the black sky. Distant NGC 7007 glinted dull green.

Bonsard returned to the artifact. A tiny line, clearly a circuit running between two nodules that projected slightly from a rounded, glazed cylinder, had had a gap gouged in it, how long ago, probably (Bonsard thought) by some glancing micrometeor. Now he, Edouard Bonsard, would repair the tiny bit of cosmic mischief. He flicked on the circuit-layer, adjusted its tip to a tiny aperture and applied it to one broken end of the ancient circuit.

The tool adhered to the micro-circuit. Bonsard drew the tool slowly, meticulously, toward the other severed end. The circuit extended in the path of the tool, moving slowly toward the other end. Finally only the tool itself separated the ends of the circuit. Carefully Bonsard withdrew the circuit-layer, waiting until the two threads of material were joined before turning it off and handing it back to the ordnance sergeant.

Only then did he heave a huge sigh of relieved tension. ”Finished!” he said.

”When will we test it, sir?” the sergeant asked.

Uncle Dudley, after a period of near-ostracism, was being readmitted into mother and father's good graces, and this afternoon, while they visited old acquaintances in a place (the term is used loosely, more to suggest a concept than to represent a specificity) really quite, quite quite distant in terms of s.p.a.ce, time, and, uh, ”fnedge,” Uncle Dudley was left in charge of Junior, who would only have grown bored and unruly during a long ride and a dull visit. distant in terms of s.p.a.ce, time, and, uh, ”fnedge,” Uncle Dudley was left in charge of Junior, who would only have grown bored and unruly during a long ride and a dull visit.

Uncle Dudley was prepared to bribe Junior into good behavior with something nice he'd bought down to Plenum's, that mother and father didn't know about and if Junior wouldn't tell neither would Dudley.

Junior accepted the gift.

Uncle settled on the parlor couch for a nap.

Junior used the new toy to diddle with his last gift from Plenum's. (”The Universe.”) It was great fun, and Uncle Dudley slept soundly, poor old simp. You know how kids are when their parents are away and they sense that the baby-sitter isn't too sharp about discipline.

Captain Bonsard looked into the black sky above Vache, his hands still on the now-repaired Vache artifact. Suddenly he pointed in the direction of Omicron Sigma XXIVa. ”Sergeant!” he croaked. ”Look!”

The ordnance sergeant turned to follow the captain's gesture. ”It's a s.h.i.+p, sir! One of theirs!”

After only a moment's stunned hesitation Captain Bonsard said, ”There's your answer, Sergeant. We test the Vache weapon now! I don't know how those white devils ever found out about the N'Yu-Atlanchi project, and they must be total idiots to send a single s.h.i.+p against us, but this is our chance to prove the worth of the Vache artifact!”

The N'Alabamian s.h.i.+p was approaching the zenith of the sky over Vache. A miniature dart, graceful, pointed at its fore end, bulging and then tapered again to a wasplike waist, then flared tail fins, the minis.h.i.+p was silhouetted against the glowing, sparkling disk of N'Yu-Atlanchi itself, N'Yu-Atlanchi where black men labored in warm saline seas to harvest S'tschai.

Captain Bonsard knelt beside the Vache artifact, sighting through devices built untold ages ago, his hand inside its articulated armor indirectly setting control devices of equal antiquity.

At last it was done. The artifact may have vibrated gently; Bonsard could not be sure whether the slight tremor that gripped him was the product of the artifact's restored life or of his own excitement. He watched the interloper coasting silently, intercepted by invisible forces across the cislunar vacuum that separated the small moon Vache from its primary N'Yu-Atlanchi. The s.h.i.+p seemed to vibrate in its course, then slowly to fade, as if disintegrated outright, or as if shaken into pieces too small to be seen at this range.

The resonations of the Vache artifact continued at light speed until they reached the surface of the planet, working their silent and unseen changes until...

A bit of crystal chipped away. A hairline crack appeared, lengthened, opened wide. A bung hole was enlarged. A lazily flowing current of saline fluid turned into a churning, roaring flow.

A tide arose, sweeping outward in a circular path, growing rather than attenuating as it advanced. Behind its heightening front naked crystal was exposed for the first time since the planet's strange equilibrium had been attained.

Larger and larger areas of crystal shook, cracked, crumbled. More fluid was exposed. The huge wave grew larger and larger. More crystal, new layers exposed, destroyed, swept away before newer waves of gloriously sparkling enriched sea-water.