Part 33 (2/2)

”I can. But I don't think it'll help you in grasping the total experience.” She gave a sharp sigh, started again. ”When you're dreaming, the concept or feeling comes into your mind first, and then the brain generates pictures as an appropriate accompaniment. This wasn't dreaming, definitely. But I think it worked in a similar way. First I was aware of order, and then I saw these great structural members surrounding our s.h.i.+p. Somehow I was able to appreciate, visualize, the distance scale. As if we were inside something like a geodesic dome, but bigger than a star. I've never had an experience like that before. I don't suppose I ever will again.

”I was aware of disorder, or apparent disorder, things going on that made no sense at all to me. And with that I visualized a mist, more like a water-droplet fog than nebula, so thick that I could see it whipping past, right beside the s.h.i.+p. And there were sounds-I can't really recall them, let alone describe them. But they affected me in the same way. Order and disorder alternating. Music, but not like-and I had the feeling that if I could have stopped the s.h.i.+p, I could have joyfully spent my life in trying to unravel the mysteries in just one handful of that fog rus.h.i.+ng past. . . .”

Elly's hands were still now, but white-knuckled. Her face was almost serene, but Lombok to his astonishment thought he saw the beginnings of tears in those far-looking eyes.

For some reason this depth of feeling in her made him a little nervous, a little embarra.s.sed, almost a little angry. ”At debriefing,” he said, ”you didn't report-an experience of that intensity.”

Her gaze came back to him. ”I was numb,” she said, relaxing a trifle. ”My feelings . . . have been growing, developing, ever since it happened.”

Lombok was not satisfied. He said, ”This thing, the Taj-it was only a couple of hours away, at sublight speeds, from at least one quite ma.s.sive star. I mean the star emitting that plasma jet, in which you were trying to hide your s.h.i.+p.”

”Yes.”

”Well, doesn't that present a seeming inconsistency? Doesn't it suggest perhaps that this thing that made such an impression on you had no physical reality?” Lombok was not much impressed by mystical experiences; not when some people could attain them by inhaling the smoke of burning weeds.

”Yes, it does,” Elly answered calmly. ”Or it would, rather, if I thought the Taj was just a physical construct of stellar size. Then tidal factors and other things would seem to make that kind of close proximity impossible. But I can only report things as they were.”

”Or as they seemed to you.”

”You yourself mentioned the two things we brought back. Proof of some kind of unusual encounter, certainly.”

”Certainly.” He had some theories of his own about them, but now was not the time. He was letting himself be distracted from what he had come here for. ”Sorry I interrupted; go on. You went into the Taj, and the berserker came in after you, presumably.”

”I saw it inside, following us, for a while. Wait. First, it-it said something, on voice radio, about how our new weapons weren't going to help us. Then we went in, and it came in, following us . . . and then . .

. I don't know. It was destroyed, perhaps. Or it lost us. Or it just-gave up.”

”Gave up? How could a berserker-?”

”I don't know. I . . . the funny thing is, once we were inside, I think I all but forgot about the berserker.”

”You were piloting the whole time you were inside?”

”I took the controls, on manual, when Frank conked out. Then somewhere along the line we went on autopilot, because I do remember clearly, after we had emerged again, switching the autopilot off and taking back manual control.”

”You were back in normal s.p.a.ce then?”

”What pa.s.ses for normal, in CORESEC. And Frank was coming round, and by then the Taj was out of sight. As soon as Frank started to get on top of the situation again, he made some little joke about how he'd rested. When I tried to tell him what had happened, he thought I was, or had been, delirious. Then we found the two artifacts, the astragalus in his cabin, the ring in mine. They were just sitting on our consoles, right out in the open. We picked them up-didn't know what to make of them. It wasn't until later, at CORESEC base, that their-properties-were discovered.”

”Yes.” Lombok pondered for a while. ”Did Frank ever know that you were pregnant?”

Elly didn't spend much time thinking about it. ”I really don't know, he never said anything. He's had other children here and there; now and then he'd mention the fact in pa.s.sing, as you might mention having had your appendix out. Don't tell me he's expressing a personal interest now.”

”Not that I know of.” Here came a few tourists, or prospective converts maybe, crossing the nave behind a gray-robed guide. The tourist man carried a rather weighty single-handled case which probably meant he was going to make some elaborate holographs.

Elly was lighting herself another smoker. ”Something's come up, though, hasn't it?” she insisted. ”Having to do with the kid.”

Lombok appeared to take thought. ”He'd be about ten now, wouldn't he? Are you developing a personal interest of your own?”

”Eleven. You said 'he.' ”

”You didn't ask them about the s.e.x at the adoption agency, when you-?”

There was a step behind Lombok, and he turned to see one of the tourist women bending close. Why should she want to ask him a question, when she had a guide? But it wasn't a question anyway, because the woman had something in her hand, and there was a new coolness in Lombok's face and lungs.

Stupid joke,he thought, and started to get up, and knew that he was falling down instead.

SIX.

”Hey, Michel, that was one lovely counterpunch.” In the low-ceilinged, hard-surfaced Moonbase corridor the voice issuing from Frank's speakers took on a small tail of ringing echo, and if Michel had been wearing Lancelot he might have found some amus.e.m.e.nt in trying to sort out the several sets of what he had learned were called harmonics. But he was in his loafing clothes today, shorts and loose s.h.i.+rt and sandals, taking a lone and moody stroll that had led him farther and farther from the busier regions of the base. He hadn't seen anyone at all for a couple of minutes before he came upon Frank's boxes standing motionless against a wall.

But Michel was at once glad of the meeting. ”Thanks,” he said. ”I didn't mean to knock you out.”

”I know. It's all right. No tests for you today?”

Two standard days had gone by since their sparring match. ”Not today. Tomorrow I think we start again.”

”Youstart again. They've informed me I won't have to wear the d.a.m.ned thing any more. What's up? You look a little worried.”

”Well.” There were really two things, neither of which he had yet mentioned to anyone else, not even to his mother. ”For one thing, they're changing the equipment. Trying to fit extra weapons onto it. But-”

Michel, almost despairing of trying to make his feelings on the subject convincing to anyone else, shook his head.

”You don't know if you can work the weapons properly.”

”That's not it! Probably I can. But-the thing is, Lancelot really doesn't need them.”

Frank moved a few centimeters from the wall, all segments rolling together. His voice sounded alarmed and hardly mechanical at all. ”Hey, kid. Eventually, you know, whoever wears that thing is supposed to fight berserkers with it.”

”I know.”

”That was a good pillow-fight that you and I had, but as a test it was very preliminary. If that had been a berserker machine instead of me . . . n.o.body's going to punch one of those things out with his fist.”

”I know! I mean, I know what you mean, Frank. But-I think I could. With Lancelot. Once I really learn how Lancelot works.”

Michel could almost see Frank's head shaking inside its box. ”Kid. Michel. Look. Maybe it is theoretically possible for Lancelot to draw that kind of power. But the enemy uses the same power sources we do, roughly speaking. And Lancelot right now doesn't have the hardware.”

”You mean metal.”

Frank had fallen silent. Michel, looking back over his shoulder in the direction he himself had come from, saw the dark-skinned woman from the scientific group, approaching at a graceful walk. Not in her s.p.a.cesuit now of course, but wearing a dress whose draped skirt somehow, with her moving in it, suggested tall gra.s.s and elegantly drooping trees moved by a light wind.

”Michel,” said Frank's speakers in a tone that was subtly new, ”this is Vera. Mrs. Tupelov.”

”h.e.l.lo,” said Michel, and, as Mother would have expected, made a polite greeting gesture.

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