Starplex

Jag tapped a key, and a hologram of Rhombus appeared. “Teklarg,” said Jag, calling the Ib by his name in Waldahudar, “that probe you sent out was defective. All of the sample material from its number-two container leaked out on the way back.”

“Sincere apologies, good Jag,” said Rhombus. “I submit to punishment for wasting your time, and will dispatch a replacement at once.”

“Do so,” said Jag, and he stabbed the button that cut off communications. He turned his attention to the number-one sample container… and was shocked to discover that it, too, had leaked out its contents on the way back. “Shoddy human engineering,” he grumbled to himself.

But he was grumbling even more once the second probe’s sample containers had been conveyed to his lab. The readings were the same—including the anomalously low air-pressure readings after it had dived into the large sphere.

Once again, Jag summoned up a hologram of Rhombus.

“I say with all peaceful good wishes, dear Jag, that there does not appear to be anything wrong with either probe. The container seals are perfect. Nothing should have been able to leak out.”

“Regardless, whatever samples we are collecting are getting out,” said Jag. “Which means… well, which means that whatever the samples are made of must be unusual stuff indeed.”

Lights moved up Rhombus’s web. “A fair assumption.”

Jag slid his dental plates together. “There must be a way to bring some of that material aboard for study.”

“Doubtless you have already thought of this,” said Rhombus, “and I waste both our time by mentioning the idea, but we could use a force box. You know, like the kind they use in labs for handling antimatter.”

Jag lifted his upper shoulders. “Acceptable. But don’t use an EM forcefield; instead, use artificial-gravity fields to hold the contents away from the box’s walls, regardless of what acceleration we use.”

“Will do, with obeisance,” said Rhombus.

The force box was manipulated by tractor beams. It consisted of eight antigrav generators arranged as the corners of a perfect cube, with wide, paddlelike handles sticking off each face’s midpoint to give the tractors something to hold on to. The box was pushed into one of the large gray spheres, and opened there. A second box was manipulated into the swarm of gravel between two of the spheres and activated there. The two boxes were then quickly hauled back in to Starplex.

Finally, the sample containers were maneuvered into separate isolation chambers in Jag’s lab. The antigrav trick had been a success: one box did indeed contain samples of the gas that constituted the sphere, and the other held several pieces of translucent gravel plus one partially transparent rock the size of a hen’s egg. Now, at last, Jag would find out what they were dealing with.

Chapter VI

Keith ran a hand over his pate, and leaned back in his chair, looking out at the starscape hologram enveloping the bridge. There wasn’t much else to do, until Jag reported back. Rissa was still off working with Boxcar, and alpha shift was coming to an end. Keith exhaled—probably too noisily. Rhombus had rolled up to the director’s workstation to discuss something or other. Lights flashed across the Ib’s mantle. “Irritated?” said his translated voice.

Keith nodded.

“Jag?” asked the Ib.

Keith nodded again.

“In politeness, I observe that he’s not that bad,” said Rhombus. “As Waldahudin go, he’s positively genteel.”

Keith gestured toward the part of the starfield that hid the door Jag had gone through. “He’s so… competitive. Combative.”

“They’re all like that,” said Rhombus. “All the males, anyway. Have you spent much time on Rehbollo?”

“No. Although I was in on the first contact between humans and Waldahudin, I always thought that it was best for me to stay away from Rehbollo. I—I’ve still got a lot of anger over the death of Saul Ben-Abraham, I guess.”

Rhombus was quiet for a few moments, perhaps digesting this. Then his web rippled with light again. “Our shift is over, friend Keith. Will you grant me nine minutes of your time?”

Keith shrugged and got to his feet. He addressed the room. “Good work, everyone. Thank you.”

Lianne turned around, her platinum hair bouncing as she did so, and smiled at Keith. Rhombus and Keith headed out into the chilly corridor, the Ib rolling beside the human.

A couple of slim robots were moving down the corridor as well. One was carrying a lunch tray for someone; another was running a vacuum cleaner along the floor. Keith still privately thought of such robots as PHARTs—PHANTOM ambulatory remote toilers—but the Waldahudin had started throwing things when it was suggested that Starplex terminology contained acronyms nested within acronyms.