Resurgence

“Not yet. Is this world inhabited?”

“We do not know.”

“Does it have life?”

“It did. But our information is old.”

“We have to take a chance. It looks like our best option. Our only option.” Darya looked to Hans and Ben for agreement, then said to the sphere, “Very well. If you can send us to this other world, do it.”

“We will attempt. One question: do you wish to be on the surface, or in orbit around that world, or elsewhere?”

Hans said, “Darya, are you sure we’re communicating with it?” And to the sphere, “The surface, of course. Why would we want to be in orbit?”

“We do not know. Your kind is alien to us. For the world where you are going, there are other choices. You could if you wish go to the world center, where a Builder super-vortex waits.”

“And does what?”

“It waits. When it is used, it changes the rotation speed of the world. It makes it slower, or faster. It was used, but not for long.”

“That’s not something we need or want. Thanks, but no thanks. The surface will be fine.”

“Then if you will prepare yourselves, we will seek to make necessary arrangement. One more question. Do you expect to return here?”

“We are not sure. Perhaps.”

“In case you do, a transfer field will be maintained for your use on the world of your arrival. It will be opened at regular intervals. It will not move. You should mark its exact location in case you wish to enter it.”

As the sphere sank slowly back into the floor, Darya said to Hans, “Why on earth did you tell Guardian of Travel we might return here? Do you think we will be coming back?”

“Not if I can help it. I wanted to keep all our options open.”

“If we return here, it will be to die.”

“I know. Maybe I felt kind of sorry for it. It sits here waiting for umpteen million years while nothing happens. Then we arrive, and after an hour of talk we’re off again. And it sits another zillion years by itself.”

“Hans, that’s ridiculous. It was in stasis all that time. It as good as said so. You don’t feel sorry for Builder constructs. If you’re going to feel sorry for anybody, feel sorry for us. At least Guardian of Travel knows what’s going to happen to it. We have no idea. Look at that.”

That was a funnel of blackness, rising at the center of the chamber.

Ben stared uneasily, and tried to back closer to the wall. “What is it? Are we going to die?”

Hans snorted. “Yes. Everybody does. But it won’t happen to us yet. That’s a Builder transport vortex, a fairly small one. We have to move into it if we want to escape from here. Don’t worry, it feels strange when you are inside, as though you are being torn in a hundred directions at once. But you’re not. You come out at the other end in one piece.”

“Come out where?”

“Ah, that’s the question of the year. Some world where we’ll be able to breathe the air, some special planet with a Builder super-vortex at its center. And that’s all we know. A place where we can find something to eat and drink would be nice. At the very least, I hope we find something like trees and sticks so we splint your arm.” Hans looked at Darya. “Are we ready?”

“Might as well. Waiting won’t do any good. I’ll go first.”

Darya stepped forward into the black funnel. A cloud like a spray of black oil rose to engulf her body, and she vanished.

“One down, two to go.” Hans held out his hand. “Come on, Ben, let’s get this over with. Otherwise, Guardian of Travel may decide it’s so fond of our company it wants us to stay.”

Ben clutched at the outstretched hand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Together, he and Hans walked forward and were swallowed up by the roiling darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY Tally on down

E.C. Tally was not built to feel surprise; the sensation of novelty, yes. Also a certain feeling of satisfaction, coupled with a heightened need for self-preservation, whenever a truly different experience presented itself.

As it was presenting itself now.

Entry to a Builder transport vortex always offered an element of uncertainty. You might feel that you were there for a split second, a minute, or no time at all. And to E.C., even that split second was a long period of subjective consciousness. He had therefore done the logical thing and placed himself in intermediate stand-by mode a microsecond before his embodied form encountered the swirling darkness at the center of the planetoid.

Now he emerged and returned to normal cycle speed. The absence of acceleration on his body already told him that he was again in free-fall, but that was not enough to tell him where.

He looked about him. That “where” would surely have justified surprise, had he possessed the capacity for it.