“Yes." Horza said, gulping. Aviger and Neisin manhandled Dorolow’s limp body out through the doorway into the corridor leading
into the
mess. The screen changed:
YOU ARE LOOKING FOR THE REFUGEE MACHINE.
“Ho-ho," said Balveda, turning away with a smile on her face and putting one hand to her mouth.
“Shit!" said Yalson.
“Looks like our god isn’t so stupid," Unaha-Closp observed.
“Yes," Horza said sharply. There seemed little point in trying to pretend now. “Yes, I am. But I think—"
YOU MAY ENTER.
“What." the drone said.
“Well, ya-hoo!" Yalson said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bulkhead. Neisin came back through the door. He
stopped
when he saw the screen.
“That was quick," he said to Yalson. “What did he say." Yalson just shook her head. Horza felt a wave of relief sweep through
him. He
looked at each word on the screen in turn, as though frightened that the short message could somehow conceal a hidden
negation. He smiled
and said:
“Thank you. Shall I go down alone to the planet."
YOU MAY ENTER.
THERE IS DEATH HERE.
BE WARNED.
“What death." Horza said. The relief waned; the Dra’Azon’s words about death chilled him. “Where is there death. Whose."
The screen changed again, the first two lines disappearing. Now it simply said:
BE WARNED.
“I do not," Unaha-Closp said slowly, “like the sound of that at all."
Then the screens were clear. Wubslin sighed and relaxed. The sun of the Schar’s World system shone brightly ahead of them,
less than a
standard light-year away. Horza checked the figures on the navigation computer as its screen flickered back to
normality along with the rest,
displaying numbers and graphs and holographics. Then the Changer sat back in his seat. “We’re
through, all right," he said. “We’re through the
Quiet Barrier."
“So nothing can touch us now, huh." Neisin said.
Horza gazed at the screen, the single yellow dwarf star showing as a bright unwavering spot of light in the center, planets
still invisible. He
nodded. “Nothing. Nothing outside, anyway."
“Great. Think I’ll have a drink to celebrate." Neisin nodded at Yalson, then swung his thin body out through the doorway.
“Do you think it meant only you can go down, or all of us." Yalson asked. Still staring at the screen, Horza shook his head.
“I don’t know. We’ll go into orbit, then broadcast to the Changer base shortly before we try taking the
CAT
in. If Mr. Adequate doesn’t like it,
he’ll let us know."
“You’ve decided it’s male, then," said Balveda, just as Yalson said:
“Why not contact them now."
“I didn’t like that bit about there being death here." Horza turned toward Yalson. Balveda was at her side; the drone had
floated down a little
to eye level. Horza looked at Yalson. “Just as a precaution. I don’t want to give anything away too
soon." He turned his gaze to the Culture
woman. “Last I heard, the regular transmission was due from the base on Schar’s World
a few days ago. I don’t suppose you heard whether it
had been received." Horza grinned at Balveda in a way that was meant
to show he didn’t expect an answer, or at least not a truthful one. The
tall Culture agent looked at the floor, seemed to
shrug, then met Horza’s eyes.
“I heard," she said. “It was overdue."
Horza stayed looking at her. Balveda didn’t take her eyes away. Yalson glanced from one to another. Eventually the drone Unaha-Closp
said, “Frankly, none of this inspires confidence. My advice would be to—" It stopped as Horza glared at it. “Hmm," it said,
“well, never mind that
for now." It floated sideways to the door and went out.
“Seems to be OK," Wubslin said, not apparently addressing anybody in particular. He sat back from the console, nodding to
himself. “Yes,
ship’s back to normal now." He turned round and smiled at the other three.
They came for him. He was in a gamehall playing floatball. He thought he was safe there, surrounded by friends in every direction
(they
seemed to float like a cloud of flies in front of him for a second, but he laughed that off, caught the ball, threw
it and scored a point). But they
came for him there. He saw them coming, two of them, from a door set in a narrow chimney
of the spherical, ribbed gamehall. They wore
cloaks of no color, and came straight toward him. He tried to float away, but
his power harness was dead. He was stuck in midair, unable to
make progress in any direction. He was trying to swim through
the air and struggle out of his harness so that he could throw it at them—
perhaps to hit, certainly to send himself off in
the other direction—when they caught him.
None of the people around him seemed to notice, and he realized suddenly they were not his friends, that in fact he didn’t
know any of
them. They took his arms and, in an instant, without traveling past or through anything yet somehow making him
feel they had turned an
invisible corner to a place that was always there but out of sight, they were in an area of darkness.
Their no-color cloaks showed up in the
darkness when he looked away. He was powerless, locked in stone, but he could see and
breathe.
“Help me!"
“That is not what we are here for."
“Who are you."
“You know."
“I don’t."