Cast

Chapter One

Signing On (In the Classical Style)

Filldirt: Stringer, you rat! … Sit with us. … So what do you say, Stringer, old man? I haven't seen you in quite a while.

Stringer: Old man. … Give me something to drink.

Filldirt: My pleasure. Give this man some kob!

Pike: Well, my good man, I've had some preliminary tests run on your sample, and my guess is that you have something. I may be willing to back you if you can be sure of getting to your city.

Hendig: Hendig says he shall get you there, and so I shall.

Valyavar: 'Tseems to me to find that navigator will be more than an unlikely trick, yuh?

Pike: Unfortunately true. Not a very poetical solution to the problem, but it seems it will have to suffice. What do you say, Valyavar?

Valyavar: Sometimes, to be sure, it is difficult to distinguish between saints and maniacs. But if it is to be worth six or seven years to you, I'm for it. We'll get a lot of sleep at least.

Filldirt: So, Stringer, … what do you think of this man Hendig's story?

Stringer: Sorry.

Two-Bit woman 1: You haven't heard about Hendig, then? … Hendig tells us that he found a new planet around some star nearby. I keep forgetting its name.

Pike: Barythron, … It's about as far as we've gotten from here. About ten light-years. A rather interesting tale Hendig has told me. He claims to have found a truly amazing city, complete with fabulous treasures and mysterious forces. And he tops the whole story off by saying the inhabitants don't even know the city is there. Quite a tale, I'd say, my young friend.

Stringer: You seem to believe him,

Pike: Ah yes, I do. There is some evidence that Hendig, contrary to reputation, has not fabricated the entire tale. And I have not told you all of it.

Two-Bit woman 1: Hendig says the planet is one hundred times the diameter of Two-Bit,

Two-Bit woman 2: With no nights and days—

Two-Bit woman 1: —and you can even stand up.

Pike: What do you say, Stringer?

Stringer: Do the inhabitants have three heads and five arms?

Pike: But Hendig swears—

Stringer: People also swear that Two-Bit is a fit place to live. I never believed them, either.

Filldirt: Be careful of what you say, Stringer.

Stringer: As usual,

Hendig: Are you calling me a liar?

Stringer: Are you Hendig?

Hendig: Yes, so Sarek has brought forth.

Stringer: Then I suppose I am, … calling you a liar.

Filldirt: Watch it, Stringer, … Life is cheap on Two-Bit.

Hendig: Look, … Hendig has spent the last six years of his life getting to and from that planet. Friends I left behind grew old without me. You, look at you. This one was probably just learning how to stand on his own two feet when I left here more than twenty years ago. And since you couldn't have known Hendig then, I would keep your mouth shut.

Stringer: I still don't believe you.

Filldirt: Stringer!

Stringer: Is that a challenge?

Hendig: First I am going to cut the hair off your head to within the width of an ant's eyebrow. Then—

Stringer: Spare the details.

Stringer: Feel the pressure on your blade, … Hendig is off balance,

Pike: Hold on, now! No harm meant.

Pike: Cold night for a walk, wouldn't you say?

Stringer: Nothing better to do.

Pike: I noticed you make friends quickly.

Pike: Now, hold on, fellow; I'm not trying to get you angry.

Stringer: You're talking about the rehearsal back there?

Pike: Rehearsal?

Stringer: Practice.

Pike: I've never seen anyone move so fast.…And you were willing to take on four of us—

Stringer: One or a hundred, what's the difference?

Pike: Some men, in my estimation, would think twice. Especially before tangling with Hendig and Filldirt. You only touched Hendig's kalan once—

Stringer: —twice—

Pike: —before you had him. If Filldirt hadn't rushed in, I would now be sorely missing my invaluable colleague. And Filldirt; he was good—

Stringer: A tyro. He couldn't handle a kalan to save his life.

Pike: I would disagree.

Stringer: He's dead.

Pike: Nonetheless—

Stringer: The evidence is in my favor.

Pike: Humph. As you wish.

Stringer: They were slow and forceful. You win by speed and agility.

Pike: Yes, so it would seem. Where did you learn to fight like that?

Stringer: Everyone on Two-Bit knows how to fight. Life's cheap, remember?

Pike: Ah, yes, the planetary slogan. Well, don't you feel anything now that you've killed a man?

Stringer: I've killed men before; no doubt I'll do it again—until someone kills me.

Pike: But you didn't answer the question.

Stringer: What do I feel? Rehearsed. It was a good exercise.

Stringer: What do you want?

Pike: I want you to go to Hendig's World, naturally.

Stringer: You do?

Pike: He wasn't lying.

Stringer: So?

Pike: That entire rehearsal, as you call it, was a waste of your talents. Hendig wasn't lying, I'm telling you.

Stringer: The reason I fought him had nothing to do with his lying or not. He challenged me.

Pike: You provoked him.

Stringer: I was being straightforward and honest, as I am with everybody.

Pike: Everybody but yourself.

Stringer: Sarek, what do you want, a kalan in your gizzard? I'll be happy to supply—

Pike: Now, don't go nonlinear on me.

Stringer: Nonlinear. Where did you get it?

Pike: Somewhere or other. I don't know.

Stringer: Well, what do you want, anyway?

Pike: I told you: I want you to go to Hendig's World with me.

Stringer: You really believe him, don't you?

Pike: Look, … I've got something he brought back. I'm not sure what it is yet. We're running tests. But it's a metal, so I'd guess, a ring at that, lighter than magnesium and incredibly strong. A plasma torch won't even touch it. It takes everything we've got to blast through. I've never seen anything like it. And Hendig says there is more of the stuff just lying about, as if it had been abandoned all of a sudden. Much more, he tells me, as well as other treasures. It's worth the risk, I believe; don't you?

Stringer: That's all?

Pike: Well, when the tests are finished, we can make a final decision, but I will tell you frankly that my nose is more accurate than any tests. Whatever that material is, it will be worth it.

Stringer: I mean, that's all you want?

Pike: It's enough, isn't it? It might also be of interest to find out if the place is as big as Hendig said it was. Impossible, of course.

Stringer: I wouldn't know.

Pike: You're a simply marvelous fellow, do you realize that? Simply marvelous. Why don't you come with me to my place? I've got something to show you.

Stringer: People who use taxis have little need for Elswer's.

Pike: One goes where business takes him, my young man.…Tell me, … what's your name, good fellow?

Stringer: Stringer.

Pike: Ah, yes, I had forgotten. Friends call me Pike. Good enough?

Stringer: Okay.

Stringer: What's wrong?

Pike: Nothing at all, nothing at all.

Stringer: This belongs to you?

Pike: Stringer, that's very clever of you to guess, indeed. Care for a drink?

Stringer: Do you own the whole corporation?

Pike: As much as any one person owns it. Why don't you take off your cloak? It's dry in here, you know. You can even sit down if you want.

Stringer: I'll sit down. … What did you want to show me?

Pike: Oh, yes, that. Come.

Pike: What's wrong?

Stringer: Nothing. … Do you ever feel, at night, somebody is trying to talk to you, pull you apart in all directions; some part of your mind, way down, like a nightmare that is part of yourself?

Pike: No, never. Some of us are in control of our faculties.…Well, come and take a look.

Pike: You see, those are just the shuttles. The big ships are up there. … Interstellar travel will soon become big business, I hope. It's time for Two-Bit to start branching out. We've used up this solar system and a few others. If you don't believe me, I can take you for a ride up.

Stringer: Okay, now what do you want?

Pike: Stringer, for an obviously intelligent man, you are not acting very brightly. I've told you several times already that I want you to come with me to Hendig's World.

Stringer: What makes you think I'm so intelligent?

Pike: People who talk like you are either very stupid, with nothing in their heads, or very intelligent and have something to hide. I suspect you are in the latter category. Tell me, do you know how to read?

Stringer: Occasionally.

Pike: Occasionally?

Stringer: I try to avoid it. Reading confuses, slows down thinking.

Pike: Speed and deception, is that it?

Stringer: Why do you care?

Pike: You don't think you'd like a drink? … I don't want any uneducated bumpkins on this trip. If you are intelligent, you can be trained to think, and if you are quick—as you amply demonstrated—you can be even more useful. We may be going to a very dangerous place. Clear enough? Besides, I think you'd get along well with the rest of the crew I have chosen.

Stringer: Who are they?

Pike: You've met them. Hendig, for one—

Stringer: You've got to be kidding.

Pike: —and Valyavar, for another.

Stringer: Who?

Pike: The big man with the beard.

Stringer: I told you, I'm not going.

Pike: You've said nothing of the sort. Tell me, are you good with machines?

Stringer: If anything.

Pike: Electronics? Mechanics?

Stringer: Odd jobs here and there. Mindless. I try to avoid permanence.

Pike: Speed and deception again?

Stringer: If you like.

Pike: Do you know how to write?

Stringer: My name, at least.

Pike: You can't be too sure these days. I don't know what's happening to the world. People don't read and write any more.

Stringer: Who needs to?

Pike: One always needs to. Well, shall we begin?

Stringer: You are very sure that I am going with you, aren't you?

Pike: Yes, I am quite sure.

Stringer: All right, I'll go. But just remember one thing, quite straight: I don't like you much.

Pike: My good fellow, that's fine by me. I ask you only to remember one thing in return.… … It is not wise to argue with me.…Now, shall we get to work?

Chapter Two

Casting Off

Pike: Have you finished testing that ring?

scientist: Ahh, yes. We have.

Pike: Well, please continue.

scientist: I don't supposed you have a blackboard around? How can I explain anything without a blackboard?

Pike: I suggest that you do your best.

scientist: Well, … whatever it is, it's at least ninety-nine percent metallic hydrogen.

Pike: What's that, may I ask?

scientist: We've never been able to make it. Most people gave up long ago and said that it never existed, at least in the quantity and form that had been predicted by theory. You see, it used to be thought that if you cooled hydrogen down to almost absolute zero and then compressed it with pressures characteristically of several million atmospheres … two things would happen. First, it would heat back up to room temperature from adiabatic compression. Secondly, and more importantly, it would turn into a solid because of the pressure. A solid metal, you see, of course, because the electrons were being squeezed into the conduction bands—

Pike: Now, hold on a minute, this is a little too four-dimensional for me. Can you reduce it to three? … These fellows are really impossible once they get started.

scientist: It would almost certainly be a superconductor; you put a current in a loop of the stuff—this ring— … and it goes around forever without decaying. The current produces a strong poloidal field around the loop. That's why that plasma torch wouldn't touch this ring. The magnetic field protected it.

Pike: I see,

scientist: What's more, and this is the most interesting point, it was speculated that metallic hydrogen would remain solid and superconducting once the pressure was removed at room temperature. Here it is. This ring. It seems to be alloyed or coated—we haven't determined which yet—to make it very strong and resistant, stable rather than metastable. Naturally, it is also the lightest metal you'll ever see.

Pike: Are you quite finished?

scientist: Yes, quite, … Except that a spherical liar is a liar from any direction you look at him, and we've examined Hendig's story from all angles. You're an optimum fool if you believe what he tells you about that planet.

Pike: So, maybe Master Hendig is a spherical liar and I am an optimum fool for believing in a nonexistent planet, in which case I ask you a simple question: if you can't produce the metallic hydrogen, where did that ring come from?

scientist: Ah, well, I…

Pike: Thank you for your most interesting information. Now, I suggest you get back to your laboratory and write up your report for one of your obscure journals.

Pike: Can you imagine listening to that for an entire expedition? We would never get off the ground with his constant nit-picking. If that was a bid to get me to take him along, he certainly had a misconception of what this expedition was about. I put this to you: who needs a scientist on an economic venture?

Hendig: If he doesn't believe Hendig, let him rot.

Pike: You are something of a poet, Hendig, and your tendency to bask in hyperbole is well known. I will not be surprised to find a planet twice as big as Two-Bit or one with days twice as long. I will expect to find this hydrogen. Now, in that matter, I suggest we call in Stringer and Valyavar and tell them the good news.

Pike: My boys, … you will be happy to know that we have just received a report from the laboratory, and, as I suspected, this venture will be well worth the expense. Therefore, we now shift into high gear.

Stringer: Wait a moment, … That's fine. But you have never explained to me how this oaf is going to get us to your city.

Hendig: Navigator had charts and he disappeared on Hendig. I know where to find him or charts. We get them and then go to the city. Otherwise we have to find city by my memory.

Stringer: And where is this navigator?

Hendig: He left us on Hendig's World.

Stringer: And you expect him to be alive and waiting for us after twenty-odd years?

Pike: Hendig and I have gone over this before, … We will have to take that risk.

Stringer: And why should it be easier to get to this navigator than to the city itself?

Hendig: Hendig does have a map of such area. It was first place we arrived, and duplicate charts were made. Hendig said he shall get you to that navigator, and so he shall.

Stringer: This oaf is only likely to get us killed,

Stringer: This time, Hendig, my point will be placed where the decision is final.

Pike: You had better remember that Hendig is now a colleague of yours, and you will have to get along with him.

Stringer: It would be easier to kill him now and save the extra fuel.

Pike: Stringer! … I told you once before not to argue with me. Remember, I am your commander in this mission. Remember that.

Stringer: Ahh,

Valyavar: Well, 'tseems that we're to be off in a week.

Stringer: It's about time, … Something has to give soon. I'm feeling totally punch-drunk.

Valyavar: Tell me, if 'twouldn't make a difference, why to Hendig's World?

Stringer: To get rich,

Valyavar: No, that's why I'm going, 'tis. After traveling across all Two-Bit and her sisters, 'ts about time I'm rich. At least that will comfort the body—if not the immortal soul. You, not to be. If you were the richest man in all of Two-Bit and had every comfort and every woman, you'd still have your energy and you'd still have to go. That's clear, 'tis, very clear. … I think … that you are going to find God.

Stringer: You're crazy, nonlinear. Why would I want to meet a god who was evil enough to create Two-Bit? … Gods don't exist anyway, so there is no point in discussing it.

Valyavar: Okay, we won't talk about it then. But I'll take a peldram of kob, my pistol, and my beard that someday you will find your religion and your God. Now… … Can I interest you in this ancient and priceless edition of the Galan Codices? They are guaranteed to bring you spiritual comfort in times of distress.

Stringer: You were a priest?

Valyavar: I was.

Stringer: To Hendig's! For glory! For riches! For God—

Valyavar: But remember, … first dress warmly, then put your faith in God.

Stringer: I'll remember, surely, … Now I think it is time for a very long rest.

Chapter Three

First Mistakes

Pike: Stand up.

Pike: Don't you want to take a look, my friend?

Pike: I'd say it's the biggest planet under Transhi I ever saw. You really should take a look.

Valyavar: Ours to it is like a snallot to a craglark's back,

Pike: And it's all ours, my friend, all ours.

Stringer: Who cares?

Pike: What do you think?

Stringer: It looks big.

Pike: A fine poet you are.

Stringer: I never confessed to that.

Pike: I don't hear anything, and I'm afraid I don't see much, either.

Stringer: Did you expect to? We listened for a year, as per regulations, before we were allowed to come. If we had heard anything then, we wouldn't even have been allowed to take off. Why do you expect to hear anything now?

Pike: No, my friend, I don't. But since officialdom frowns on accidental encounters, it is required that we check. And a positive result might have saved time. Now we must rely on our esteemed colleague Hendig's help.

Hendig: It was north, near a coast.

Stringer: There's a coast,

Valyavar: But is it north?

Hendig: It is if Hendig came this way,

Valyavar: And what if he was upside down?

Pike: Look, my boys, the size of this planet is unexpected and will make discovery difficult. I suggest we get to work and see if we can pinpoint Hendig's landmass. Tell me, Hendig, how big an area does this map cover?

Hendig: More than Two-Bits. Maybe four bits.

Stringer: Peanuts! … A snallot to a craglark's back.

Pike: We'll begin photographing the surface and see if we can identify Hendig's chart. That will save some time, don't you think?

Hendig: That's it! By Jedoval, I'd swear to it.

Stringer: So much for our wonderful instrumentation.

Valyavar: Jedoval, the god of jokes. A fine one to swear by.

Pike: Are you certain that's the spot?

Hendig: Do you doubt Hendig?

Pike: Well, then, … I'd say we should get a closer orbit and then be on our way.

Valyavar: Might it be to split up? … We still have a lot of ground to cover.

Pike: A superb idea. We'll take two of the shuttles and travel in pairs.

Stringer: Valyavar and I will take Number One.

Valyavar: 'Ts time to depart, I'll say, … We know where we're about?

Stringer: Do you know something, Valyavar?

Valyavar: What's that?

Stringer: I'm a little scared.

Valyavar: Good for you. 'Tseems to me that's the usual rule, saints and maniacs excepted.

Valyavar: It's being blind with your eyes open, yuh?

Stringer: Well done,

Valyavar: A little help from the radar isn't to be denied.

Pike (radio): Look at those mountains!

Stringer: We can't see beyond them and look at our altitude. They must be tens of kilometers high.

Valyavar: Is it to north?

Hendig (radio): Yes. It is hit right on the thumb, … You'll be sorry you doubted Hendig yet.

Valyavar: To north, then, … but it could be forever.

Pike: Though it is difficult to say at this altitude, the atmosphere seems normal, though very dense for this height, and a little high on the trace elements, especially helium.

Stringer: You're sounding professional,

Pike (radio): I can read a printout as well as the next man. It means, no doubt, that we can breathe, and that's all I'm interested in—

Hendig (radio): I breathed last time I was here,

Pike (radio): —but let us be sure to check on the ground, shall we?

Stringer: Okay,

Hendig (radio): Ahead on the coast!

Valyavar: Do you see it?

Hendig (radio): Look at that clearing inland!

Stringer: It's a city!

Valyavar: To take another look?

Hendig (radio): So Hendig has found it,

Stringer: Where are you going?

Hendig (radio): To pay a visit, … The quickest way to find the city we came for is to find a certain colleague of Hendig's who may be here.

Stringer: That stranded navigator? Oh, come on. … He's out of his mind.

Pike (radio): Don't worry, my boys, I suggest you proceed north while I take a slight detour to check this out. After all, our Hendig has been accurate so far.

Stringer: Well, the hell with them.

Valyavar: Come, let's get on, … It will save some time, mayhaps, and help us find what we've come for.

Valyavar: You don't understand?

Stringer: No.

Valyavar: Marauders always have to be first. You've not been trained to be a pilot, nor an aeronautical engineer, but 'tseems to me, a marauder. So 'tis time to act like one.

Stringer: No. You'd think that after a year of preparation we would have come prepared. But we didn't. We're expert pilots, fighters, can operate spacecraft, computers, anything, but we don't have the faintest idea of what we're doing. Knowing Hendig, that city could be anywhere on this planet. We could be here for decades. A fine bunch of marauders we've turned out to be.

Valyavar: You don't have the right spirit. Look at Pike to example—

Stringer: He knows what he wants, that man. He just plunges in, reckless. Look at him going off with Hendig just like that. But he knows he'll win, too. He won't leave Hendig's World without something.

Valyavar: When you fight with the kalan, any observer would think that you're the most reckless killer on Two-Bit. Where is that spirit now?

Stringer: That's different.

Valyavar: How so?

Stringer: There's nothing really at stake here. When something's at stake, then there's the tension. That's when I feel finely tuned. With a kalan in my hand I am relaxed.

Valyavar: Indeed, it is difficult to distinguish between saints and maniacs.

Stringer: You were a priest. Why?

Valyavar: 'Tseems to me I wanted to find God.

Stringer: Any success?

Valyavar: Absolutely none. God may be interested in truth but isn't in a hurry to admit it, that's for certain. If such a thing as truth exists, trying to find it through God will only lead to indigestion with every sermon. 'Tseems to me that the sum of all religion is that the lovers of God are the haters of men. Man is more interesting to man, 'tseems to me.

Stringer: And yet you've charged me with finding God, huh?

Valyavar: I thought you needed something to do.

Pike (radio): Things are fine at this end. Keep exploring. I'll call you back when I need you.

Stringer: Anything?

Valyavar: Hills, water, lots of haze. Can't see the ground too well sometimes. 'Tis a planet all right, even if it is too big to be believed.

Stringer: How long have we been up?

Valyavar: Let's see here. About sixty hours.

Stringer: Has it been light all that time?

Valyavar: To be sure, little Stringer, awfully bright.

Stringer: It's a long day on Hendig's World.

Valyavar: Very long indeed. We've come about one hundred thousand kilometers from where we left Pike.

Stringer: One hundred thousand! Has Pike called?

Pike: Not since the first.

Stringer: We're stupid. Marauders or not, we should have turned around long ago. Do we have enough fuel to get back?

Valyavar: I've been mindful. And we have his beacon. No problem to worry your head, little Stringer.

Stringer: I don't care, we should have turned around. … Did you see it?

Valyavar: This one's ours, I'd say! … Krek tu Dai!

Stringer: Hold on! … What do you think you're doing?

Valyavar: Don't go nonlinear. Remember, you're Bitter.

Stringer: Pull up! Are you trying to get us killed?

Valyavar: Something's at stake here. You should feel relaxed.

Stringer: Only when the stick's in my hand.

Valyavar: One draft down there to make Sarek wince. When he made Two-Bit, he couldn't have had more malice than this wind.

Stringer: Get it down!

Valyavar: It's to be tight, no question.

Stringer: Watch the cliff there! On the left! You'll hit the wing.

Valyavar: Yes, it's to be tight. We can't slow enough for a vertical.

Stringer: Jedoval help us—

Valyavar: Remember, first dress warmly—

Stringer: —then rely on God, I know.

Chapter Four

Introductions for Planet and Explorer I

Hendig: Look there.

Pike: Are you telling me that's where we're going? How are we supposed to land?

Hendig: No, it's just a landmark. That village is deserted. But look here.

Pike: How could they live up there? It's eight or nine kilometers at least.

Hendig: My bronze is not to explain those things. Now Hendig takes us down.

Hendig: Massarat ahead. We can land on the plateau.

Hendig: Hendig may not be wanted here.

Hendig: We're safe, … This sound is good.

Hendig: Look at this. … Look at this.

Pike: Now, my good man, why don't you tell me who you are?

Paddelack: Now that seems like a reasonable thing to ask. The name is Paddelack. … And who are you, my gaping friend? … I'd suggest you close that mouth of yours instead of leaving it open for the sting flies to populate.

Pike: Pike, the name is Pike.…Tell me, Paddelack, did I detect some antipathy between you and Master Hendig?

Paddelack: Antipathy? Why use fancy words when simple ones will do? Hate, pure distilled hate is what it is. Nothing fancier than that.

Pike: And although I gather that you were once navigator for my colleague, why don't you explain the cause of this falling out.

Paddelack: This is my friend Mith. … I see you are surprised at how human they look. So was I. But then I found out the differences. You'll find out if you are idiotic enough to stay here that long.

Pike: But back to your story, please, … Please tell me how you came to this place that would have the crabs screaming for mercy.

Paddelack: When I ran into that renegade, he souped up some story that he was contracted with Two-Bit Transportation to do some prospecting. Said he was making a run to Barythron because some astrometric evidence showed that something peculiar was going on. Imagine he wasn't working by the books just running off like that, doubt he had a contract at all—

Pike: Correct.

Paddelack: Anyway, I hopped on as engineer, navigator, whatever. I pretty much flopped as an engineer, never even got halfway through school. But nine out of ten men are suicides, anyway, so it doesn't bother me too much. Certainly didn't bother that idiot.

Paddelack: Trip took about three years, proper time. Woke up, and what did we see? Strangest planetary system I've ever heard of. Just the sun and this giant, six hundred thousand kilometers across if it's a centimeter. The only other thing is a little ball of rock, half the size of Two-Bit and half as far out. What it's doing here I don't know. What this monster is doing here I don't know, either. Something's mighty peculiar, although I've never been able to test my suspicions, sitting up here on this mountain.

Paddelack: Anyway, we impacted down here, right into the soup, to see what we could see. Didn't find much, that's for sure. No evidence of anything except the usual metals. So we about gave up. Then we found the city. Daryephna, they call it in these parts. Such a sweet sound for Palace of Fear—

Pike: But Hendig told me the natives didn't know anything about it.

Paddelack: Listening to him was like listening to a random-number generator; anything came out of his mouth.…Oh, the natives knew something about it, or about something. It's not clear what they knew, how they knew it, be it by myth or Polkraitz legend, but they knew something. None of them had ever been there, as it's across the ocean. And what an ocean! At least 150k kilometers across from here, if not more.

Paddelack: So we went over to the city. Even from orbit it was magnificent. Well, now that I think about it, it could have been ugly, depending on your tastes. May as well have been a sculpture.

Paddelack: We didn't find too much and never discovered the purpose of most of that. I couldn't quite tell if the place had been cleaned out or if no one had ever been there before. Like a newly built home. Who's to say if someone is moving out or in? But Hendig found something; he showed me a piece of it. I never saw exactly where it came from in that city, because he picked me to come here to recruit some natives to help cart the stuff out. They were willing enough to help, probably because they could hardly understand what we wanted them to do. But after we got to Daryephna, the Fear started to set in. I don't know exactly what it was—never felt it myself. All I know is that shortly after we got them in, there was quite a riot. Several people were killed. Hendig, who swore by Jedoval, though you'd think he was reared by Sarek, sent me to bring them back. But a storm blew up just as we were landing on the coast of Liddlefur.…You've never seen a storm like the ones we get here. It's a bit too early in the day for them, but that sun picks up a lot of water, and it's got to come down sometime. So my plane crashed. Hendig never bothered to come and find me. Maybe the Fear finally got him too. Most likely he was afraid that the natives would rip him to shreds after what happened at Daryephna. But soon it was too late anyway; the Freeze started to set in. You know they call this planet Freeze-Bake. It certainly is the most appropriate name for it I can think of. So, here I have been for more than twenty years, almost a native by this time.

Pike: I suppose I can understand your feelings for Hendig, … It is difficult to blame you for killing him.

Paddelack: I…didn't know what to do. There he was, after twenty years. He left me here but now he was my way off. I didn't know what to do. And then my body did it, by itself, my whole body.

Pike: Well, you're forgiven. Tell me, what happened to the charts?

Paddelack: Gostum again, … What do they want this time? … More food? Supplies? Parasites.

Pike: Who are they?

Paddelack: Untrusted neighbors. Whatever they want, you can be sure your presence is now noted for future reference.

Pike: Back to the charts, please,

Paddelack: Lost in the crash, of course.…Now, if you're smart, you'll get off this planet as soon as you can. I don't care how bizarre it is; it's not worth your staying on.

Pike: No. I am afraid we didn't come here just to rescue you, and I won't go until I get to that city.

Paddelack: You must promise to get me off this planet! I'll do anything you want! I'll follow you anywhere! But you must promised to get me off as soon as you can!

Pike: Stop it. Stop it. … Yes, of course. You're as good as off. Stick with me and you'll be away from Freeze-Dried, or whatever you called it, as soon as I am. Now, why don't you tell me why this place is so unbearable? It might be good information to have.

Paddelack: I wouldn't worry about them, … They're the friendliest bunch I've ever met. It's their society that does it, I think. It's not they who should worry you, but this planet itself.

Pike: It seems rather big, somewhat damp, and extraordinarily hot, but I think one might adjust to it.

Paddelack: Hah! … So you've noticed it's somewhat damp and extraordinarily hot up here. Well, then, think of what it's like down there— … Oh, yes, we live up here in the mountains mostly because it's pleasant. But what about when you want to eat? Then there's the two-hundred-kilometer trek to the coast for some fish, through the slimiest, sweatiest jungle you've ever seen that will, as likely as not, kill you before you get there. But I shouldn't complain too much. Tomorrow will be much hotter. This is the shortest day, and except in the middle two months or less, we can get down to the coast without serious loss of life. Around midyear it's impossible. Makes me wish for nighttime. Right now there's only a skeleton crew down at Liddlefur—

Pike: I'm not following you, Paddelack. Will you slow down? Tell me again why you don't live at the coast.

Paddelack: I told you, it's too hot there in the middle of the day. Next year, tomorrow, it will be too hot to go down there at all, except for the very beginning and end of the day. So we stay up here, getting ready for night. After all, night starts in a couple of months, and we get ready for it early so there won't be any foul-ups. You don't want foul-ups on Freeze-Bake.

Pike: What do you mean, night starts in a couple of months? What do you mean, today is the shortest day? Is it winter?

Paddelack: In a way, … You really don't understand, do you? Well, turn around and look at that sun.

Paddelack: Have you seen that sun move since you showed up?

Pike: I haven't been watching.

Paddelack: Well, sir explorer, take a guess why it is so hot down here. Never mind, I'll answer that. The sun takes so long to move, that's why, pure and simple. It greenhouses awful down here. I mean, they used to tell me that ground equilibrates pretty fast and won't get much hotter if you heat it for a month rather than a day, but the greenhouse—that's what really does it. Those clouds trap a lot of heat. Directly beneath that sun it may shoot up to several hundred, for all I know. But that's only half the story. When that sun goes down, it stays down for more than six of your lousy Two-Bit months. First the rains come when it starts getting cool enough for this supersaturated atmosphere to begin dumping its horde. Then the winds come, winds that make a Bitter hurricane look like a dust devil. And by the time the winds stop, the sun is long gone. And by then it's gotten real cold. Nobody can talk about it much, because anyone who has so little of a brain to go out at night dies within seconds if he isn't dressed to the hilt. Even then you might have an hour. Even then I imagine you can't see anything but what the stars permit—if the stars exist any more. Haven't seen one in years! Been told the oceans freeze down to who knows how far, but they do freeze, that I can tell you, and legend even has the air freezing out on occasion. Now you understand why I—and everyone else on this Godforsaken planet—am a fanatic about wanting to get off.

Pike: So where can you live at night?

Paddelack: In the mountains.

Pike: How can that help?

Paddelack: Hot air rises, remember.

Pike: It gets that cold?

Paddelack: Colder than that; we live underground.

Paddelack: Oh, you have no idea how much that slow, slow rotation period affects every little bit of life on this planet. Try explaining to these people the difference between a day and a year. It just doesn't click in their heads, not quite. We divide up our year, one revolution around the sun, into months and days and base our calendar on that. But what if your day is a year long? Then what do you do? Especially if you don't have a moon. The calendar becomes almost arbitrary. Here they happen to count in twelves: twelve teclads to a full day or year, which makes a teclad something over a month. Twelve beclads to a teclad, so a beclad is about three of our days. One beclad is one hundred forty-four telclads, making a telclad about half an hour. Each telclad is twelve belclads, so a belclad is about two minutes. There are one hundred forty-four clads to a belclad, giving very nearly a second for a clad. Just remember the prefixes and you'll stay confused. I trust I make myself obscure.

Pike: You do.

Paddelack: Look, give me something to write with.

Paddelack: These values are only approximate and not to be taken as God's word. Here.

Pike: What am I going to do with this?

Paddelack: You'll need it if you're fool enough to stay here any longer, … Look, what I was trying to tell you is that there is incredibly little external basis for their calendar here. They seem to have an internal cycle, inherited from their original planet, no doubt, which makes the beclad a natural period. But that doesn't mean day to them at all. When you say day you are implying a relationship that doesn't exist here. Day tells you when to get up and go to bed and when it's dark and light. That's a year here. You get up and go to bed on your own. Not only that, but we expect that after a year, everything starts over again the way it was: stars, calendar, seasons, everything. Stars. Do they exist? Seasons? They're buried under the days. Seven days before everything starts over again. Seven cockeyed days of varying lengths. Is that seven seasons? If so, I suppose that means this planet must be tilted to produce such an insane effect. I don't know. Don't you understand?

Pike: I'm afraid I will just have to see for myself.

Paddelack: You will if you are stupid enough to stay here another clad. I was hoping my little talk would have dissuaded you.

Pike: No, … I am afraid I am going to Daryephna first.

Paddelack: Ahh, idiot.

Pike: Don't you get hot in that thing?

Paddelack: Insulation. Made from plants. Protects you from the heat. Also sort of a natural desiccant. Dry it out over some coals and it will suck up a lot of water—your sweat. You see, down below the mountain, it's too humid for you to sweat freely. Your pores get clogged, your skin infected, and you rot. So you wear a diaper—all over. Of course, you don't want to suck up the atmosphere, too, so the outer surface is waxy with enough holes to breathe. You have to be zero-defects on Freeze-Bake or you don't survive. These suits aren't strictly necessary up here but they help you from getting too burned.…Now, let's join the celebration of your arrival.

Paddelack: Well, … You're a hero. Enjoy it.

Pike: I will. Of that you can be assured.

Paddelack: Gostum! Back again! This can't be good.

Paddelack: I told you your presence would be noted. I suggest you use that graser of yours, and use it well.

Chapter Five

Introductions for Planet and Explorer II

Valyavar: Remember, the road to God is a lonely one and perhaps never-ending.

Taljen: Taljen.

Benjfold: Benjfold,

Stringer: Stringer,

Taljen: There was a Gostum near you and we ate him,

Stringer: What? You ate him?

Taljen: You seemed not to mind when we gave you some of him shortly afterward. We eat our own if they die unsick. Do you think we can afford to waste food?

Stringer: No,

Stringer: Can I have something to eat?

Taljen: You've eaten eight times with the beclad. No more. You've had your ration, and the fields aren't to be strained for the likes of you, Alien.

Stringer: Well, … I suppose you want to begin the drill. … You know, … you have a beautiful language. I like it.

Taljen: I wouldn't know, … It is the only one I have ever heard. But why do you mention it, Stringer?

Stringer: I never liked Bitter very much. It's flat; there is no variation in sound. Your language uses the voice. Speed changes and volume and pitch. It is like a song. It's nice. But it is hard, though. My voice isn't used to making so many different sounds.

Taljen: Well, Stringer Murderer, I am not sure you will have much time to speak Tjenen. You should understand the mixture of fear and respect you cause. You should understand that most of Ta-tjenen wishes you killed. However, since violent death is so unusual for us, no one is exactly sure what to do with you. Now the nestrexam will decide its own mind.

Stringer: What is the nestrexam?

Taljen: You will find out soon enough. Come on, Alien.

Stringer: Please don't call me that.

Taljen: Alien? Why? That is what you are, simply. An Alien Murderer.

Stringer: Yes, I suppose so. Then why have you been taking care of me?

Taljen: Not to widen my ears, of that you can be sure. I found you when I was counting trees for a tree survey. So I am taking care of you.

Stringer: Thank you. You have been kind. Now I suppose we should see the nestrexam. Tell me, will it matter what I say to them?

Taljen: No.

Kenken Wer: I stand in the Center for this house-change and the next. My name is Kenken Wer, although hopefully you won't be here long enough to use it. We must decide what to do with you. Are you Polkraitz?

Stringer: I don't think so.

elder: He would know if he was,

Kenken Wer: This is the Golun-Patra. Remember that.

elder: I had forgotten.

Kenken Wer: Ask the Time Keeper, then, if you cannot remember such things yourself.

Kenken Wer: You killed a woman shortly after you arrived. This is serious. Life is precious at Ta-tjenen, not to be wasted. This is the first k…killing that I know of since the revolt. It is unclear what is to be done. Do you have an explanation?

Stringer: I was confused, … I thought I was being attacked.

Kenken Wer: You were being helped.

Stringer: I realize that now. Where I come from one isn't helped.

Taljen: I am not interested in your excuses. You acted as I would expect a Polkraitz to act. There is, however, some question as to whether you are Polkraitz or not. The opinion is divided. If you turn out to be Polkraitz, we will have to act immediately. Until then…

Kenken Wer: …so we have decided to do nothing. You may stay until the Patra. The teclads are shortening, as are the beclads themselves, and the Patra will come. If you are gone by then, you are gone; if not, then the Patra will embrace you. Taljen, you will be responsible for him until then. Let us know his decision.

Stringer: Can I go to my ship now?

Kenken Wer: Go, … I hope the Center does not see you again.

Taljen: I'll take you,

Stringer: Well, I half suspected that.

Taljen: Does this mean that you cannot fly away?

Stringer: Of course—no, I guess you wouldn't know. Yes, that's what it means. The plane is broken.

Taljen: So what will you do now, Alien?

Stringer: I'll show you.

Taljen: Just one,

Stringer: We have a large rocket in orbit around this planet. Inside there are several more ships like this one. I should be able to connect the controls of this craft to one of the others left in orbit. Then I will be able to pilot the other here by remote control.

Taljen: You are unhappy, … You should dance.

Stringer: I can't get any picture from the craft in orbit. Either it's out of range or something is wrong.

Taljen: Can you fix it?

Stringer: I don't know what's wrong. Nothing is coming through, that's all. It might simply be that the ship is on the other side of the planet. In that case, I'll just have to wait. Otherwise it might take—

Taljen: Stringer, … I don't understand what is wrong, what an orbit is, or how you are doing what you are doing, but I think you are in much trouble if you do not leave Ta-tjenen.

Stringer: I know, … Tell me, the old woman said life was precious here, that I had committed a serious crime. On my world that just isn't true. But if it is here, then why isn't any action being taken against me now? No one seemed to care about the woman, only about Polkraitz.

Taljen: The woman is gone. I currently knew her as well as any, I suppose. But soon I would not have known her, as with everyone here. It is just as if that time came sooner. Everything would have changed, anyway, and she would be just as gone.

Taljen: But if you are Polkraitz, that is a continuing problem. When they come, we do not know what they will do. If they are allies of the Gostum, the danger could threaten us all. So what will you do? Where are the other Aliens you told me about?

Stringer: I don't know. One you ate. Two we left a long way south—about a hundred thousand kilometers. Why they haven't followed the beacon I don't know.

Taljen: So what will you do now, Stringer Lost?

Stringer: I must go south. It will take … a long time. But I can't stay at Ta-tjenen. I didn't understand most of what Kenken Wer said, but it's clear that they'll kill me sooner or later.

Taljen: I'm sorry, Stringer, but to go south is impossible. Why, one hundred thousand kilometers! I don't even believe the world is that big. Even if you went, you would never survive.

Stringer: Why not? If I built a boat—

Taljen: If the heat didn't kill you on such a trip, you would freeze to death.

Stringer: What? This place is hotter than an impossible summer, and you tell me I'll freeze to death?

Taljen: You don't understand, do you?

Stringer: No. I suppose I don't.

Taljen: Why do you think we call our world Freeze-Bake?

Stringer: Freeze-Bake?

Taljen: Why, yes, did we forget to tell you?

Stringer: All right, why is this place called Freeze-Bake?

Taljen: The sun! Stringer, look at the sun!

Stringer: Has it moved?

Taljen: Yes!

Stringer: So it does get dark here. No one bothered to tell me. And, of course, why else would it be getting cooler?

Taljen: Now you see. Foolish Stringer, that the sun is going down and the teclads themselves are shortening. In less than two teclads the Freeze will begin. if you went south now, how far could you get before the rains became heavy, then snow and the winds like a crazed Verlaxchi? And then the dark. It is a Short Patra, this Patra-Bannk, the Time Keeper has told us. Nonetheless, it is longer than this Bannk. And it will get so cold that the air itself, I am told, is on the verge of falling out of the sky. If you started south now, you might make it as far as the next town; otherwise you would freeze to death in two teclads. You see, action is being taken against you. It makes things very simple, Stringer.

Stringer: Yes. … What is a teclad?

Taljen: A teclad? One teclad is not like another, but there are six in the Patra and six in the Bannk. A Patra-Bannk is one pass of the sun, or suns. After all, it could be a new sun each Bannk.

Stringer: But you just told me that Patra-Bannk is the name of your world.

Taljen: Patra-Bannk, yes. It makes much sense, don't you think?

Stringer: Yes, Patra-Bannk, Freeze-Bake; it makes much sense. … Why didn't you tell me this before?

Taljen: I'm sorry, … I thought everyone knew about things like that.

Stringer: What we assume!

Kenken Wer: The Patra will embrace you.

Taljen: Besides, … I wasn't teaching you for your information, but for ours. Tell me truthfully, Stringer, … why did you come to Ta-tjenen?

Stringer: What difference can it make now?

Taljen: I would like to know, that's all.

Stringer: It would seem because I'm Polkraitz—

Taljen: You are?

Stringer: No, no. … I don't even know what Polkraitz is. We came to find a great city that was on Patra-Bannk.

Taljen: Ta-tjenen?

Stringer: No, … I doubt that very much, even though Hendig is a liar.

Taljen: Hendig? Who is Hendig?

Stringer: He is the man who had been on Patra-Bannk and then came to my world to tell us about the city. When we found Ta-tjenen we thought you might be able to tell us where it was, but we crashed.

Taljen: I am sorry that you crashed. You see, other than Ta-tjenen, there is little else to find. But tell me, why did you want to find this imagined city you speak of?

Stringer: I…I think it's time to get up, … Sarek! Why didn't I think of this before?

Taljen: Stringer, what is it this time?

Stringer: Nothing.

Taljen: Why don't you say anything? If you want to learn how to talk like a Tjenen, you'll have to learn how to talk. Those of Ta-tjenen talk a lot, certainly compared to you.

Stringer: Why should I want to talk like a Tjenen?

Taljen: Stringer!

Stringer: All right. … Wait a moment and let me think this through. … It's impossible.

Taljen: What is, Cryptic Alien?

Stringer: Tell me, what do you know about science?

Taljen: I have been the Time Keeper's assistance on certain free shifts. I was also his pupil during the Patras.

Stringer: You never told me you study science.

Taljen: What have I ever told you, Stringer?

Stringer: True. I used to study science some, but no more than any kid, and that was a long time ago. I'm not a scientist, that's for sure. But I just remembered an exclamation that I heard on Two-Bit long ago, in a place I'd rather forget. I ignored it the first time I heard it; it made no sense to me then and I let it go. Pike never mentioned it to me; either he didn't believe it, which is most likely as Hendig is a liar, or he never thought of it. I don't know. But it's bothered me in my dreams ever since that first time, and now it popped into my head again. Now I know what bothered me.

Taljen: Go on.

Stringer: You see, … I come from a world very much smaller than Patra-Bannk, more than fifty times smaller in diameter—

Taljen: That makes Patra-Bannk very large or your world very small, doesn't it?

Stringer: Patra-Bannk certainly is very large, by any standards I've ever heard of. It's more than six hundred thousand kilometers in diameter.

Taljen: I don't believe you, Stringer Who Tells Stories. I can't conceive of that.

Stringer: It is. And yet I am standing up. Doesn't that bother you?

Taljen: No, should it?

Stringer: Don't you see? The gravity should be dozens of times greater than it is on my world. But it isn't. It's about the same, only a little more. I'm standing up; I should be crushed.

Taljen: I know of gravity, of course, but I still don't understand what you are saying.

Stringer: What do you know of gravity?

Taljen: It pulls things to the ground.

Stringer: Nothing more?

Taljen: What else is there to know about gravity?

Stringer: Do you know that the weight of me, or of any object on this planet, depends on how massive the planet is and on the radius, how big it is?

Taljen: But what if the world is very thin? If the gravity depends on the radius, shouldn't it also depend on the thickness?

Stringer: Thickness?

Taljen: Yes, of course, the thickness of the edge.

Stringer: What edge?

Taljen: Stringer, … what do you think this planet looks like?

Stringer: What do you think this planet looks like?

Taljen: I assume the model you were proposing was circular, like a pancake, but as we have never seen the edge, that might not be the case. I always thought a square was the most reasonable shape; there are four directions.

Stringer: What? A planet is round.

Taljen: Fine. What about the thickness?

Stringer: I mean, spherical, like a ball.

Taljen: You can't be serious. People would fall off the other side from being upside down. And, Stringer, look at the ocean. Does it curve like a ball would?

Stringer: But Patra-Bannk is so huge.…When your ships go out—you have ships, don't you?

Taljen: Yes, of course.

Stringer: When they go out, what happens to them? Doesn't it look as if they sink into the ocean?

Taljen: No, they get smaller and smaller and fade out.

Taljen: Look at the sun; it's a ball—

Taljen: A disk in the sky.

Stringer: And I suppose you think Patra-Bannk is the center of the Universe, too.

Taljen: Of course. Ta-tjenen itself, as a matter of fact.

Stringer: Doesn't the fact that an Alien came here do anything to upset that belief?

Taljen: Aliens came once before to the Center. That is why we are here. There is no contradiction.

Taljen: I think the nestrexam will want to know that you are to be here for some time to come.

Kenken Wer: You are still here.

Stringer: My ship needs repair. It will take time.

Kenken Wer: As we have said, you, Called Stringer, will be allowed to remain until the Going Under. By then you will have departed or the Patra will embrace you. Do you understand?

Stringer: Enough,

Taljen: Where are you going, Stringer?

Stringer: That small red pylon marks the beginning of the Patra, doesn't it?

Taljen: As you see, the scale ends there.

Stringer: In less than two teclads—whatever they are—I freeze to death. What exactly happens to Ta-tjenen I don't know. But I think I'd better get to work.

Kenken Wer: Beware of that Alien, Taljen. Stay away from him as much as possible. There is no good in him.

Taljen: Ah, Stringer from Elsewhere, you come as a murderer, are as silent as an escaping prisoner, claim you have never had an education beyond a Patra-Bannk, learn our language in a teclad, and ask questions of which we ourselves cannot dream. Ah, Stringer…

Chapter Six

A Propitious Arrival and a Hasty Retreat

Pike: What do they want from us, those black and orange—

Paddelack: Enjoy it; we're being treated well enough, aren't we?

Paddelack: I'm hungry, … Are you?

Pike: No.

Paddelack: That's your problem.

Pike: I think your appetite has increased three hundred percent since we got here, friend.

Pike: At least they understand the uses of sex on this planet, … Undeniably. They certainly do a better job than Elswer's. One would suspect that they are trying to make us thinking we're dreaming.

Pike: Of course! Don't you see that?

Paddelack: What better way to get on good terms with us than to try to convince us we're in paradise? Maybe it is a little crudely obvious, but enjoy it, anyhow, is what I say.

Pike: Well, Paddy, my companion in arms, even if this is a ten-quinten whorehouse, I'm not going to fall for it.

Paddelack: Then take a walk while I do.

Paddelack: You begin to understand what Patra-Bannk is all about. … Well, come, these men want to talk to us.

Pike: You must have finished with the girl quickly, Paddy.

Paddelack: No, you've been away longer than you think.

Fara-Ny: Determine the Angles, Effrulyn,

Pike: You'll have to translate, Paddy.

Paddelack: Fine with me. His name is Fara-Ny, and he is the titular head of the Gostum. Says they want our help with a great and glorious mission. The Trieskans are building rockets to carry their people away from Patra-Bannk, and the Gostum must gain the knowledge of how to build rockets so that they too can leave.

Pike: Why do they want to get off Patra-Bannk? No, never mind that. Who are the Trieskans, anyway?

Paddelack: I've heard of them. Old enemies of the Gostum. Not sure, but I've been told that they live about one hundred thousand kilometers north of here. I could be wrong about that.

Pike: One hundred thousand kilometers! Tell me, then, would you, how these people even know about them. They raise horses, giraffes, or whatever you call those animals, don't even have electricity, and here they are talking about rockets being built at a place one hundred thousand kilometers away. How do they even know what rockets are?

Pike: Triesk?

Pike: You can add to my questions: how did they get a map like this?

Paddelack: The map is a copy of one from the age of the Polkraitz, who made it for their surveys. The Gostum claim they are descended from the Polkraitz. As to how they know what the Trieskans are doing, Fara-Ny won't say. That is one of their greatest secrets, which is available only to the inner hierarchy; the Fairtalian guard. You'd have to be sworn in before they would allow you to possess that information.

Pike: By Ostlan's Vase, this is the most nonsensical discussion I have ever—

Paddelack: Don't take them lightly; they're Gostum, and for reason or no, they take themselves very seriously. We'll be in a fine fix when they decide to get rid of us.

Pike: What do they want from us? It would seem to me that if they can know what is going on one hundred thousand kilometers away, they can do something about it.

Paddelack: They want your ship and weapons to take a few men to Triesk and extract the vital information.

Pike: They are out of their minds, the costumed clowns! Risk my only way off this planet in an imbecilic tribal war over something that can't possibly be true! Rockets! Sarek, what a joke!

Paddelack: Jedoval, I believe you are referring to. … He said he would be happy if we thought about it further.

Effrulyn: Yes, what is it? What do you want?

guard: The aliens are here. You were to have an audience with them, in order to more fully explain our wishes.

Effrulyn: That. Well, yes, I suppose it is necessary.

Paddelack: What is that thing?

Effrulyn: That? That is the Angler. I let the Angler fall and then read the Angles that are so formed. If conditions are right, the Angles so formed are good ones, and the Gostum may proceed with whatever plans they have in mind.

Paddelack: You are a fortune teller.

Effrulyn: I am a mathematician, … That is my only concern.

Paddelack: Then why are you the Angler?

Effrulyn: Because that is my job.

Pike: What are you talking about?

Paddelack: This man is the court astrologer—without the stars. Evidently our fate has something to do with the outcome of his Angles.

Pike: And, I ask you, what is our fate?

Effrulyn: You have arrived at a propitious moment,

Paddelack: Do the Angles tell you that?

Effrulyn: The Angles, … have the good sense to know a propitious moment when they see one. As I was saying, you have arrived during the twelfth Golun Patra-Bannk—

Paddelack: So that's it!

Pike: What?

Paddelack: For some reason, … the folks around here use a double-calendar system. One's based on the Patra-Bannk, the other on this Golun thing. Only once in a great while—I'm not exactly sure when—they coincide. The Golun Patra-Bannk, or Golun-Patra for short.

Pike: So?

Paddelack: So. It seems there is also the expectation that the Polkraitz will return, that they vowed to return. Somehow the promise got mixed up with this Golun-Patra business, and on the Golun-Patra great things are expected. Not only that, but this is the twelfth Golun-Patra. And I already told you they count in twelves. A propitious moment indeed.

Pike: And they believe in this?

Paddelack: Do you believe in this, Effrulyn, this Golun-Patra prophecy?

Effrulyn: There is a thing called the Golun-Patra, though it may in no way differ from all the others. I do not know, as I have never seen one before. In any case, I am not concerned with these trivialities; they only serve to disturb the peace of my being.

Paddelack: What are you concerned with?

Effrulyn: My mathematics, I thought that would be obvious. Now, if you will excuse me.

Paddelack: That's all you wanted to tell us?

Effrulyn: Since you seem to understand the Golun-Patra as well as I do, you may yourselves decide. As I have said, you are not my concern.

Pike: This place is like a labyrinth! They make no attempt to guard us, and I still can't find a way out. It's been weeks! Paddelack, where are you?

Paddelack: Right here. Don't say weeks. They don't exist here. It's been about six beclads; a beclad is about three of our days.

Pike: Who the hell cares? I have failed to find a way out of here.

Paddelack: You could have told them you'd help.

Pike: Shut up. You know that is impossible, don't you understand? Remember, you're the one who wants to get off Patra-Bannk. You'd think you'd be doing something more productive than lying there with that serving girl as if the world were ending. You'd expect I'd get some gratitude after all I've done for you.

Paddelack: Pike, my friend, as you would say, I would like you to make the acquaintance of Barbalan. She is a Gostum, trained in more skills than you imagine at present. And she is going to get us out of here. … Need we discuss any further how useful I have been in the past beclads?

Paddelack: Sting flies, remember?

Barbalan: Is he very stupid?

Paddelack: No, I don't think so, … Somewhat ignorant of Patra-Bannk, but not stupid and not to be brushed off easily.

Pike: What did you say, will you tell me?

Paddelack: She wanted to know if you were stupid or not.

Pike: And what did you tell her, aged fellow?

Pike: All right, you win this time, Paddelack. How are we going to get out of this mountain fortress? We must be up four or five kilometers, with a desert out the window and a giant mountain peak in our back yard. My only guess is that we're on the other side of the range from Massarat, because we aren't getting any direct sun.

Paddelack: You're right about that. Barbalan tells me that we are about forty kilometers from Massarat. Not bad, considering it's Patra-Bannk, not bad at all. There are only two ways to get there from here: either it's over the top via the old pass, which takes you way north to the old settlement, and then you have to come down on the other side and backtrack; or you take the road. Obviously the road is more sensible since it is fairly direct. That leaves only three problems: getting our weapons, getting out, and getting away. Barbalan can probably take care of our weapons, or so she tells me. I think stage two is going to be the killer.

Pike: Let's hope not.

Paddelack: Seems the entrance-and-exit procedure is pretty tricky. Now you'll see why nobody bothered trying to stop you from escaping. Barbalan, could I have something to write with?

Pike: Not bad.

Paddelack: What? Do you think these people are primitives or something? You'll find a workshop downstairs in which sits something that looks suspiciously like a steam engine. It may be hard living on Patra-Bannk, but these people have as much raw intelligence as we do. Now… … The entrance here is over a gorge that is more than a hundred meters deep and about thirty wide. You walk out the front door and down you go, with only gravity to keep you company. However, they do have a lift which takes you down partway. Is that right, Barbalan? Good. So the lift goes down and stops on a wide ledge about thirty meters below the exit, maybe only twenty.

Pike: Sounds difficult but, I'd certainly say, not impossible.

Paddelack: I'm not finished yet. You land on the ledge and, of course, you're facing the opposite wall of the gorge, which is as high as the one you've just come down, and there's still twenty meters of space to cross. But the ledge you're on extends to the left, like so, until the far wall drops off. At that point there's something like a courtyard on the other side and a drawbridge to reach it. They have it worked out so that the drawbridge is up when the lift is down, and vice-versa.

Pike: Clever of them. That's too bad.

Paddelack: And then you have to get through the cleft on the far side of that courtyard. The cleft is blocked by a huge stone gate over which is a guard turret. The slab which closes the gate—

Pike: Don't tell me. The gate is shut when the drawbridge is down.

Paddelack: Right. It's a pretty fancy system of counterweights, but Barbalan assures me it works, and works well. If you cut the cable to the drawbridge, which is virtually impossible, the bridge drops, but so does a two-thousand-kilogram slab of rock. So all you've done is trap yourself.

Pike: Who are these Gostum that they should be so concerned about security?

Paddelack: After talking to them, I wonder if it is security that they're worried about.

Pike: What else could it be?

Paddelack: Discipline to stay alive. You can't have mistakes on Patra-Bannk. You must have a zero-defects system, or you don't make it from one Patra to the next. The Liddlefurans, and I imagine their long-lost cousins the Trieskans, do things differently. But that's another story, best told once we get out of here.

Pike: Hmm…Can you raise the drawbridge without going back up the lift?

Paddelack: No.

Pike: Can we throw a rope across the gorge instead of using the drawbridge?

Paddelack: You're forgetting the grask.

Pike: What? Be clear, I ask you.

Paddelack: Those animals you thought looked like tall horses or short giraffes. We'll need three of them.

Pike: Three of them? Why do we need three?

Paddelack: Once we're out of here, do you think they'll let Barbalan live? They're Gostum.

Pike: Yes, I suppose she is doing us a favor.

Paddelack: She may be saving our lives. And remember, she's probably a better fighter than both of us put together.

Pike: I won't argue that question. So someone has to ride the lift back up to let the grask over the drawbridge. Then we might get two out, but the third is trapped on the ledge between lift and bridge. Rope, I'd say.

Paddelack: Can't see any other way of doing it.

Pike: Wait. Can Barbalan take the grask out by herself? If she could get them out and have them waiting, it would be easier.

Paddelack: She says no. They must have permission to leave.

Pike: Can she get permission? Tell her to make up a story. Tell them that we will help the Gostum but we need to get supplies from our ship.

Paddelack: She says it might work but that it would only buy us a little time, and we'd be on our own as far as getting out goes. Which is more valuable: a little time or her help?

Pike: I haven't the vaguest idea. You know her better than I do.

Paddelack: Then I'd say we'd better stick together.

Pike: Fine, I'll trade you a blooded bronze on that one.

Paddelack: Done.

Pike: When?

Paddelack: As guards seem to be around always, why not as soon as Barbalan can get our weapons and some rope?

Pike: So all our planning degenerates into a breakaway. Not very pretty.

Paddelack: Barbalan, … you said you can get the guns.

Barbalan: Yes, I can do that, … No one knows how to use them, and they are relatively unguarded.

Paddelack: Rope?

Barbalan: Yes, there will be some in the stables.

Paddelack: Then are you ready to take your leave of the Gostum?

Barbalan: Why not? I think there are better things to do in life than stay at Konndjlan.

Pike: There is one final thing,

Paddelack: What is that?

Pike: The map. The map is necessary.

Paddelack: Why?

Pike: Do you want to get off Patra-Bannk?

Barbalan: The more things I must secure, the more difficult this impossibility will be.

Pike: Well, then, I'd say it was time to get our clothes on, wouldn't I?

Paddelack: Remember, a grask is strong and fast. Keep it slow to begin with or you'll be thrown. Oh, hell, you'll find out.

Pike: Do you know how use one of these?

Paddelack: It's not been so long that I've forgotten, youngster,

Pike: Good. Two-two-one for yours.

Barbalan: There are three guards down there. Do you see them?

Paddelack: Why don't we just walk down. They don't suspect anything—

Pike: —yet.

Barbalan: Then watch me.

Pike: How did he have time to throw that? I had him dead.

Paddelack: Be more careful next time,

Barbalan: Stand here, … It is steam-operated, I think.

Pike: No wonder I never found the place!

Barbalan: A bell rings in the council chamber every time this floor moves. They will know someone is leaving and will soon guess who, if they haven't already.

Barbalan: That's the lift, right in front of us.

Barbalan: It is time to move swiftly. Don't stand there to be caught in the snow!

Pike: This isn't what I'd call an elegant escape.

Paddelack: What difference does it make as long as we get out of here? … It's a little late to worry about form, don't you think?

Pike: A fine poet you are.

Barbalan: There are at least four more, … Watch out!

Paddelack: Up, Pike, up!

Paddelack: Pike! … On the roof! There's one of the roof!

Pike: You're no help at all,

Paddelack: We are out of our minds, … Powerful things, those gamma rays.

Paddelack: Barbalan! The rope!

Pike: Move! Move! Bentagen, where are you?

Paddelack: The rope! … There, can you reach it?

Pike: I think so. … Now what? … Never mind.

Paddelack: Don't stand up! … Look behind you.

Pike: An elegant jump, wouldn't you agree? Close tolerance.

Paddelack: Well… … close enough for government work.

Pike: Look! It's coming down! The gate! … Move, you animal! Move!

Paddelack: A good day's work!

Pike: Yes, I would agree to that.

Paddelack: Now where?

Pike: Number Two—and Daryephna.

Chapter Seven

Death Row

Taljen: I thought I might find you here.

Stringer: Where else did you expect? You watch over me like a hawk.

Taljen: What is a hawk? Do you mean a sentry?

Stringer: Never mind. What do you want?

Taljen: As you say, I am to keep an eye on you. Do you think it would be good for you to go off killing someone else?

Stringer: I don't think you have to worry about that,

Taljen: I'm sorry, there was no need for me to say that. I just wanted to see how you were progressing.

Stringer: I can't fix it,

Taljen: Ah, Stringer, Hopeless, what will you do?

Stringer: I don't know, … There doesn't seem to be much to do, does there?

Taljen: The Time Keeper would be the one to talk to, I think, but he is not in Ta-tjenen now.

Stringer: I've heard him mentioned often. Who is he?

Taljen: He is a thing apart, with no nestrexa of his own. Untrusted by many but listened to at the same time. Even I rarely trusted him, and I was his best pupil. Definitely, Stringer, he is a thing apart, a true wizard.

Stringer: I'm very tired now. I think I want to go to sleep.

Taljen: Why do you sleep so often, Tired Stringer?

Stringer: Because I must; what else can I say? I come from a planet where the sun goes down every fifty telclads or so—

Taljen: Remember, though, a telclad is not a constant—

Stringer: So I've heard. About every fifty telclads or so the sun goes down, and at about that time we go to sleep. I haven't figured out when you sleep, that's for sure. As infrequently as you do, it never seems to be at the same time.

Taljen: You are more a Tjenen in that than you think. You judge my sleeping habits by your own, but, according to our clocks, you are now sleeping half a beclad out of phase from your habit upon your arrival. You've been going to sleep later and later in the beclad.

Stringer: I have? … So I have.

Taljen: And I am sure you will continue shifting. Don't dismay, Funny Alien. Unless each of us pays close attention to the clocks, a thing only the Time Keeper does for sure, we all do the same as you. After all, there is so little to distinguish one beclad from another, what difference does can it make? Our body clocks take over and find their own cycles—and those vary slowly against the beclads as they will. They vary with the Patras and the Bannks, with the height of the sun in the sky, with the opening and closing of the pod-trees. Our bodies speed up and slow down, our skin changes color and texture. Next Bannk, the Killer Bannk, my skin will be so dark, so leathery, that you will not recognize me. This Patra I will change color again completely. That is the way Ta-tjenen works. That is the way each of us keeps time, by our own skin, by our feelings, by the color of our eyes. There is no universal time except that of the Time Keeper.

Stringer: How can this city get anything done? It is so dangerous to live here—how can you be so lazy about something like that? Isn't everything mixed up?

Taljen: Not lazy at all. It is more efficient to let our work shifts follow our bodies. About the same number of people are awake at one time, so there is no problem in shifting shifts. If my shift gets later and later in the beclad, someone else's will get so late that it will be early. The nestrexam handles the list of Sleepers Awake and makes sure that it is always current. That is one of the nestrexam's major tasks. Similarly, classes in the Patra are held several times a beclad so all may attend.

Taljen: But you are somewhat correct, Stringer. There are special occasions, like the Parlztluzan coming, which are easier to do all at once…I see that things here work in perhaps looser ways than you are accustomed to, but perhaps not. We manage well enough. Better to be a slave to your own body than to a mechanical clock, don't you think?

Stringer: Ah, … there are so many things I don't understand about this place. Maybe someday— … Maybe someday I will, but who knows? Now it is time for me to get some sleep.

Benjfold: Hello, Taljen, nesta, and Alien Stringer.

Benjfold: Could you give me a hand with this piece?

Benjfold: We go Under soon and will need all the fuel we can get for light and heat. You have no idea, I am sure, Alien Polkraitz, how much fuel Ta-tjenen will need to stay alive during this Short Patra.

Taljen: You know, Benjfold, I do not think I understand the Alien very well.

Benjfold: Does it matter that you do?

Taljen: It does not take much to see that he is not Tjenen, but to pinpoint the differences is harder. I wish I could climb inside him to understand. But we can never do that with anyone, can we? It is the ultimate block. Even you, Benjfold; I often wonder what is inside you, though I often suspect that it is not much.

Benjfold: You're teasing me, aren't you?

Taljen: I'm sorry, … You shouldn't get upset.

Benjfold: It looks as if we'll be breaking up soon, doesn't it?

Taljen: As we know…

Uslid: Ah, I have seen this before! … It is nearing time to break up.

Taljen: Yes, that time is coming very soon,

Uslid: And whom will you get?

Taljen: I don't know. … There are a good many whom I like well enough,

Benjfold: Certainly. I suppose there is little reason to give the matter too much thought,

Taljen: Will you stay with the child?

Taljen: It might be nice to have a rest until the next Parlztlu, before the next child comes. After all, since I'm going off and so won't be fertile until then, it's allowed. And your old nesta did say she would take the baby.

Benjfold: Well, there is to be no rest for us, … I choose soon. What about you, Uslid?

Uslid: Ah, the libidinal flow is still there occasionally. I think I'll find somebody this time around. I'm past the mandatory age you know.

Benjfold: So, … ours was a good nestrexa; I hope my next is just as good. But then again, I suppose one is as good as another.

Taljen: Yes, … I suppose so.

Uslid: What do you have there, Stringer?

Stringer: I just got it at the fair, or whatever this is. I thought I'd try playing it just for diversion.

Uslid: A rodoft, I see, and it is very difficult to play. But I can get you a teacher if you want.

Stringer: No time for that.

Uslid: Tell me, have you enjoyed the Festival of Lashgar and the Polkraitz defeat?

Stringer: So this is the occasion of my defeat?

Uslid: And what do you mean by that, Stringer?

Stringer: Don't you believe that I'm Polkraitz? Half the people around here do, whatever Polkraitz is—

Taljen: Uslid! Uslid!

Taljen: Gostum have been seen! Everyone is on the watch!

Uslid: Gostum!

Taljen: Someone said they saw a band of Gostum heading toward the north hills, but that's all. Should we join the search?

Uslid: We can. Maybe it is best we should. Do you know how many there were?

Taljen: Four or five, I was told. So it might be dangerous.

Stringer: Am I interrupting?

Taljen: No, of course not. Please come in, Stringer.

Stringer: How long were you gone? I just woke up.

Taljen: I don't know. Who but the Time Keeper can ever tell?

Stringer: Did you find what you were looking for?

Taljen: We didn't find the Gostum, Stringer, but that was expected because we didn't know where to look. Whenever the Gostum strike, it is out of thin air. Where is there to look?

Stringer: Who are the Gostum?

Taljen: You don't know?

Stringer: I wouldn't have asked if I did.

Taljen: Their defeat is what we celebrate this beclad.

Stringer: But who were they? Why were they at Ta-tjenen?

Taljen: Why at Ta-tjenen? … Isn't it obvious? Because, Stringer, Ta-tjenen is the Center. If you were going to found a great city, wouldn't you put it at the center of the world?

Stringer: Do you mean you weren't joking when you told me that before, that the map in the meeting tent which show Ta-tjenen in the center really means it? It isn't just for convenience?

Taljen: Of course it means it. Don't you see that Ta-tjenen is in the center?

Stringer: But what about those other two cities on the map? Why shouldn't they be at the center as well?

Taljen: They were founded by Tjenens after the struggles ended. They are offshoots and not the Center, Alien. Other than those, do you see any more cities? It follows we are in the Center.

Stringer: I don't see how anything can be at the center. No one place on the globe is at the center.

Taljen: Ah, yes, that is right. You believe the world to be round like a ball. In that case, there is no center except the middle. Otherwise there is a Center, and Ta-tjenen, being the city of the Polkraitz, is it.

Stringer: All right, all right. Forget that. Who were they?

Taljen: A great race living here. Ta-tjenen is a great city, don't you think, Alien? And before the revolt it was even greater—

Stringer: When was that?

Taljen: When the Polkraitz founded the Center, it would appear. Since the Polkraitz fled on the first Golun-Patra and this is the twelfth, that would make twelve Golun-Patras ago, or about—let's see—eight belbannks.…

Taljen: The Gostum decided to move the Center to the south, which was clearly an act of insanity and which the Tjenens resisted. But some of the Polkraitz, not knowing any better, sided with the Gostum. You can be sure there was a great war and a bloody battle over where to place the Center, here or in the south. Most of the population was destroyed; everything was lost, and things pretty much started over again. The Polkraitz fled, vowing to return, and their Gostum slaves were exiled. They left in ships like yours. Where they went we do not know, but they still come to plague us, fanatics who take us on five to one. They are indeed fanatics, dressing in black during the Bannk, black with one orange stripe.

Stringer: Black and orange? I think I saw some people wearing those colors earlier.

Taljen: You did! Where, Stringer, where?

Stringer: I was sitting up over the city, on the north hills—

Taljen: You were up on the north hills? Why didn't you tell us? Stringer, you knew that they were seen going in that direction. You were standing by when I told Uslid.

Stringer: It didn't even occur to me. I thought they were part of the festival.

Taljen: How many were there?

Taljen: Four or five.

Taljen: Stringer! How can anyone act like you? Have you walked away from your mind? You knew we were looking for four or five on the north hills and you said nothing! Nothing at all! Are you that empty? A Tjenen you certainly aren't—

Stringer: I said it didn't occur to me. I didn't even know what a Gostum was.

Taljen: If you were caught in the Patra would it occur to you? I suppose not. Oh, Silent Stringer, why do you never speak when you should?

Stringer: I will be caught in the Patra, it has occurred to me. Has it occurred to you?

Taljen: Stringer, I gave you an extra two teclads.…Now I understand you. I understand you well. You think only of yourself. You have no nestrexa in your mind, for sure. I've never heard of such mindlessness, Alien. Now, if you will not help the nestrexam, you will help me. Come on. Let's find the others.

Stringer: They were climbing straight up there.

Stringer: Didn't you cover this area earlier?

Taljen: Yes, but not much farther up. Come on.

someone: Well, that's the Edge,

Taljen: What's wrong, Stringer, … You look puzzled.

Stringer: I'm sure they went up this way. But there doesn't seem to be any place for them to have gone.

Taljen: That's true. Aside from Ta-tjenen, there aren't many places to go.

Stringer: But even you will have to admit they went somewhere. … Look! Do you see that?

Taljen: Verlaxchi's against us. This is the end of Ta-tjenen!

Kenken Wer: Taljen! … Tell me how we are set for fuel this Patra.

Taljen: We've completed the farming for this Patra. After all, we go Under in a teclad or less. So we are set this time. I cannot predict yet about the next.

Kenken Wer: You! You Polkraitz! This is the Golun and you are Returned. You have brought this upon us! You and those Gostum beasts who are your slaves! I will tear your eyes out with my own hands!

Stringer: Do you think I would come to such a hellish place as Ta-tjenen of my own free will? … You have a forest fire burning up your fuel. Don't you think you should worry about that instead of me? I am one man; your whole existence is at stake.

Taljen: Kenken Wer, he is right. We have work to do.

Kenken Wer: I will see to you later,

Benjfold: The wind is blowing mostly south and east, … We are probably safe, but the entire forest is in the fire's path, and with the resin now being produced, who knows how far it could spread?

Taljen: Because of the recent rain the forest is damp, but the resin is inflammable, … We have got a problem. It could spread all the way to Glintz. And Glintz, the Time Keeper has told us, is almost two thousand kilometers away.

Benjfold: We must try to cut it off, … Everyone get tools and axes and shovels. We must try to cut it off.

Benjfold: We're losing, … It moves fast, Stringer, very fast, and is now far south. Tell me, … did you bring this upon us?

Stringer: No, I didn't. Believe me if you want, don't if you don't.

Benjfold: Well, this is the Golun-Patra.

Stringer: So I've heard.

Benjfold: What do you think we should do now?

Stringer: Is there any way of getting far south, way past the fire, far enough so that we have time to clear a great area?

Benjfold: We could take the boats and sail down the coast for a beclad and start work there. But this is a dangerous time of Bannk to be going far, I can tell you.

Stringer: Do you have any choice?

Taljen: You are going, Stringer.

Stringer: Yes,

Taljen: I don't think you intend to return. I saw your eyes at the mention of Glintz the other beclad in the tent.

Stringer: Yes, I'm glad to hear it is far, but not too far. What would you have done in my position? Thanks for everything you've done.

Taljen: I've done nothing more for you, Alien, than I would have done for any Tjenen.

Stringer: All right, have it your way: thanks for nothing.

Stringer: Don't wait for me,

Benjfold: What are you doing?

Stringer: Taking the boat south.

Benjfold: Can you sail it?

Stringer: It's small enough. I'm no sailor, but I'll manage. I'll have to. The wind is with me, and Glintz shouldn't be impossible to reach by any means.

Benjfold: Do you know where it is?

Stringer: South. Seventeen or eighteen hundred kilometers from here, I would guess.

Benjfold: The trip is dangerous and will be easier with two.

Stringer: Why should you?

Benjfold: You have helped us during the fire. I'll help you now. Let me tell someone to take charge while I'm gone.

Benjfold: Do you think I'd visit you on Glintz? … But here, Polkraitz Murderer, survive on this!

Chapter Eight

The Treasure Chest

Pike: The Gostum will think twice before tangling with us again. I'm sure of that.

Paddelack: Don't be. We had surprise, weapons they had never seen—and one of them on our side. And still it was lucky. But you're right; they will remember us.

Paddelack: I'm going to round up a tender for the animals, … Be back shortly.

Pike: Hurry up! … In you go, … Let me see that shoulder of yours. … That's quite a cut you've got there, … But don't worry, I've fixed a few wounds in my time.

Pike: It's too bad we can't talk to each other, … I'd like to talk to you. You're quite a woman, do you know that? Probably not, I'd say. You don't even realize I'm telling you this. … Well, this should do you.

Paddelack: Looks like you've patched her up pretty well. She'll heal quickly; everyone around here does…you should've seen the folks back there when I came in. You escaped from Konndjlan! they said. Both of us and another, I said back. Remarkable! Impossible! The same man who cleared the path?…

Pike: So the Gostum aren't the only ones who will remember us.

Paddelack: You're absolutely right. They wanted to feast us again, but I told them we were in a hurry.

Pike: Good. Well, are you ready?

Paddelack: Ready for what, exactly?

Pike: There is nothing here from Valyavar and Stringer, it seems.…No beacon, either.…Crimson, come in. Stringer, Val, are you there?…On board message recorder, anything?… … Nothing.

Paddelack: Will you search?

Pike: Search where? The whole planet? And after weeks of being out of touch? They could be anywhere. No, we won't search. It seems that we are on our own.

Paddelack: Still plan on going to Daryephna? Don't ask me to show you the way. I doubt I could hit it closer than twenty-five thousand kilometers; it's been a long time.

Paddelack: You guessed right. That one's Daryephna. Those few others? Who knows? Ink drops, maybe.

Paddelack: You see, it does mean something to these people.

Pike: What? Would you tell me?

Barbalan: There is a story, … that when the Polkraitz left Patra-Bannk, they stored their greatest treasure in Daryephna. They vowed to return and collect it in some future beclad, but to prevent anyone from taking it, they put a curse on the city. That is why no one other than Polkraitz can enter.

Pike: When will they return?

Barbalan: Some say during the Golun-Patra. And this is the twelfth Golun-Patra.

Benjfold: However, the Gostum are a practical people, if nothing else, unlike their Liddlefuran neighbors. We are not going to wait forever for the Polkraitz and are finding other ways to survive—or to leave Patra-Bannk, if that is possible.

Pike: Which brings us to the Trieskan rockets. Tell me, does she really believe that the Trieskans are building rockets? If their technology is at the same level that we saw at Konndjlan, then you must know that is impossible. Even Jedoval would never try to make up a story like that.

Barbalan: Does it really matter? … If they are building anything that will improve the life of my people, we should know about it, don't you think? Life on Patra-Bannk is difficult. If rockets are being built that would take us to another world, then it would be worth risking our lives. Even if they haven't built them yet but have the Polkraitz plans, it would be worth it.

Pike: What does she mean?

Paddelack: The largest Polkraitz camp was originally at Triesk. Maybe they left plans or rockets there and the Trieskans have figured them out.

Pike: Now we are beginning to get a more reasonable story. Have you tried asking them for help?

Paddelack: I have been told the attempt was made but failed. Gostum and Trieskans long ago were friends, but since almost as long, enemies. That is why, when you were seen at Massarat, you were taken to Konndjlan. It was thought you might help.

Pike: Which brings us full circle: if they want help, they must know what is going on one hundred thousand kilometers away. How? That is a nontrivial distance even by our standards.

Barbalan: I am not one of the Fairtalian, and therefore not privileged to know how the information is obtained. I have heard that even the Fairtalian do not understand the process and that the method is magic.

Pike: So that's that, … Once magic is invoked, I don't think there is anything that I can say about it, is there? … Get us a course to Daryephna. Remember to stop at the Crimson for refueling. Will you do that, Paddy?

Paddelack: First I want to show you something. … Do you know why that settlement's deserted?

Pike: No, … Hendig said it wasn't his bronze.

Paddelack: Not mine, either. I do have a guess. You've noticed how hot it is on Patra-Bannk. That means the atmosphere is very high, breathable to a great altitude. Suppose somebody went up there, found the temperature to his liking, and started a settlement. Then night comes. Gets so cold that atmosphere shrinks and collapses. Everyone dies because there is no air. That's my theory, but I don't know much about that stuff, so shoot it full of holes if you want.

Pike: An interesting theory, … Well, I'm going to get some sleep. It's been a long day.

Pike: What's happening to her?

Paddelack: It's the Fear setting in. Take her up, man! Can't you see she's in agony? Take us up!

Pike: Yes, you're right, absolutely,

Paddelack: Are you all right now?

Barbalan: You seemed like jelly. Nothing was straight. Everything went dim.

Paddelack: That's all right. We'll fly elsewhere.

Paddelack: Did you feel anything, Paddelack?

Paddelack: Not a thing. Never did last time I was here, either. Nothing at all. That's what I told you.

Pike: I remember your story. I didn't feel anything, either. I must admit it is curious, curious indeed.

Barbalan: What will we do with her? We can't take her inside.

Pike: Then obviously she has to stay here. That's clear, wouldn't you say?

Paddelack: Won't need those, you can be sure of that. No one is here.

Pike: We'll see. You can come with me or stay with her.

Paddelack: We'll be back later,

Paddelack: You're hesitating,

Pike: I'm not—

Paddelack: If one finds himself at a gateway, … what should one do but go through it?

Pike (reverb): Hello!

Paddelack: Whom do you expect to find? Your grandfather?

Pike: No, just testing, just trying to get a feel for the place. … You know, I think we are expected, welcome.

Paddelack: I don't feel anything of the sort. If you want to be Sarek and steal Ostlan's Vase, that's fine with me, but don't be surprised when the Bentagen attack.

Pike: I'll keep that in mind.

Paddelack: About the only thing I can say for this place is that it is at a reasonable room temperature—if I could remember what a reasonable temperature was.

Paddelack: Now that we're here, what should we look for, would you mind telling me?

Pike: Anything unusual—

Paddelack: Oh, come on, … you'll have to do better than that.

Pike: I'm particularly interested in the metal that Hendig showed you. If you have any, let me know immediately.

Paddelack: Why? What's so important about that?

Pike: Just curious, that's all.

Paddelack: Ten light-years to be curious? I can think of other ways of satisfying my curiosity.

Pike: Patience, my dear Paddelack, patience.

Pike: What do you make of all this?

Paddelack: Well, … since it has webbed feet, it can't be an eagle.

Pike: What do you mean by that?

Paddelack: You look at a curved wall and ask, why is that a curved wall and not a straight one? You see a ramp instead of a staircase and wonder, why is that a ramp? Why is the metal this color? Why is the light source hidden, and why does the light have a peculiar tint? It seems to me that whoever built this place was slightly different from us, so they built a city that looks slightly different from one we would produce. That's all. Why read any more into it?

Paddelack: All right, I'm impressed; you found the stuff here just waiting for you, your quest is ended. Now would you mind telling me what you were trying to find?

Pike: I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier, but I didn't want to turn out a fool. Do you know what this material is?

Paddelack: Well, I remember that Hendig showed me his piece. It was very light, but that's all I know. … Yeah, this is the same stuff.

Pike: Metallic hydrogen.

Pike: You know something about it?

Paddelack: I was an engineer, remember, even if a bad one. Give me credit for once having known something.

Pike: Then tell me, if you have metallic hydrogen, what would you do with it?

Paddelack: What would I do with it? Why, I'd transform the world! Do you realize what this is? A room-temperature superconductor. Lossless transmission lines and electrical wiring. Do you realize just how much electrical power is lost in the wiring? An incredible fraction. This stuff would end all that, save billions of quintens. You could get rid of that lousy liquid helium, too, you wouldn't need it. Train tracks? Levitate your trains. We do that already, but with that sloppy liquid helium. Giant accelerators to ring the world, if you want them. And if it's strong enough, what a building material! Lighter than anything else! And, by Sarek, if it's cheap enough to make, it's inexhaustible. Hydrogen only makes up half the Universe. Sarek, I'm sorry I doubted you. This is a find! We'll be rich. What a thought! Maybe my twenty years here will have amounted to something!

Pike: I thought it was worth the trip. But, … is there more? As amazing as the substance is, it isn't enough to change a civilization, is it?

Paddelack: Not even enough to make us rich.

Pike: I'd rather change a civilization, wouldn't you?

Paddelack: Hah. All I care about is getting off this planet with enough to keep me comfortable for my trouble.

Pike: You are a rather sleazy character. You'd team up with anyone to be high and dry, wouldn't you? Liddlefurans, me, Gostum, anybody. I'd say you'd betray your own brother to get yourself off this improbable world—

Paddelack: Why you—

Pike: One would never guess that you were so desperate from your cocky manner of speech. A good hiding place, words, don't you agree?

Paddelack: Look, man, you have no idea of what it is like to live on Patra-Bannk for more than twenty years. To wake up day after day and not be sure the sun has moved a centimeter. To wish time would fly and carry your life nearer to its end, but only to have the sun sit there and laugh, dragging you along minute by agonizing minute. Do you know what it is to pound your fist on a door for months on end just to be allowed to breathe real air, and at the same time to know that if that door opened, you'd be frozen solid in a second? Worst of all, to realize that all hope is gone, all hope that you'll ever get off. Just because of one fool minute when this damned planet decided to play a trick on you and you weren't looking. It gnaws at your stomach for every painful minute of every infinitely long day and of every infinitely long night. Man, I would sell my soul to get off this planet, make no mistake about that.

Pike: And the added treasure here makes for slight recompense, eh, Paddy?

Paddelack: Have you never lost all hope?

Pike: Never.

Paddelack: Well, then you'll never understand what it means to be given a second chance.

Pike: I make my second chances. And that includes finding the manufacturing facility. A good idea, don't you agree?

Paddelack: A good idea. Let's hope we know it when we see it.

Chapter Nine

Dialogue on Two World Systems

Stringer: Here! Here!

Stringer: Here! Can you see me?

oarsman: This is a strange place to be near Bannk's end,

Stringer: It's a strange place to be at any time,

oarsman: You speak with an accent. Where are you from?

Stringer: Far away…very far away. Tell me where you are going.

oarsman: Back to the Center. Where else is there to go?

oarsman: You can't go down there,

Stringer: Why not?

oarsman: The Time Keeper is hard at work.

Stringer: I think he would like to see me.

Alhane: Come in! Come in! I thank you. Who are you? Come in!

Stringer: My name is Stringer.

Alhane: You are not from Ta-tjenen or Glintz, no, that is obvious.

Stringer: No, I'm not.

Alhane: Good, then maybe you will listen to me. I have made a great discovery. The results are here. I have made runs in previous Bannks, but no one listens. So I did it again and again. I still have to compare these figures with those taken at Ta-tjenen this Mid-Bannk. But I am sure—

Stringer: What have you found out?

Alhane: The world is round!

Stringer: Spherical? Like a ball?

Alhane: Precisely as this one here. Isn't that exciting?

Stringer: I thought I was mad when I told Taljen and she wouldn't believe me.

Alhane: You know already?

Stringer: I am not from this world but another. I knew already. But don't worry, the discovery is still yours.

Alhane: I thank you. An Alien, that is interesting. Polkraitz?

Stringer: Do I look like one?

Alhane: I wouldn't know. But you say you have talked to Taljen?

Stringer: You know her?

Alhane: Yes, of course—very well, in fact. Who in Ta-tjenen doesn't know her?

Stringer: That seems to be true.

Alhane: But she was my assistant also and should have been taking measurements for me while I was gone. Was she?

Stringer: I don't know. She may have been. For the first teclad I was there, I was not very conscious of what she was doing. You mentioned Mid-Bannk. I arrived after that, about a teclad after, I think. But it is good to know that I am not crazy. How stupid can Ta-tjenen be, not to realize that the world is a ball? Taljen just couldn't believe me—or you, I guess.

Alhane: This has been a standing argument between us and has gotten to the point where she doesn't like to talk about it at all. But, I ask you, why should Taljen believe you or me? She is a bright girl and believes what she sees. Why should she listen to us? If you lived on this planet all your life, what would make you believe it wasn't flat?

Stringer: Ships on my world gradually sink below the horizon. That wouldn't happen on a flat world. They would fall off and suddenly disappear.

Alhane: True. But do you think you could see this ship on the horizon? Not unless you had eyes like a solofar. We usually don't travel that far, anyway.

Stringer: Why not?

Alhane: Where is there to go but fishing? Glintz is the closest town to Ta-tjenen, and that is almost two thousand kilometers, and we have just come from Godrhan, the next town, twice as far as that. Besides, the Bannks are hot and the wind is usually south. Sailing back north is cumbersome; that is why we tried coming back now, when the wind shifts to the south-east. However, I see we may have waited too long.

Stringer: Hasn't anyone sailed around the world?

Alhane: Stringer, … are you serious? With the heat of Mid-Bannk and the Patra, and the size—

Stringer: Yes, I suppose that was silly. I had forgotten. Didn't your Polkraitz leave any records? Maps?

Alhane: Not that I know of. Any more questions?

Stringer: Hmmm. … Once somebody told me that you can see the roundness of other planets and the—

Alhane: Do you see any other planets?

Stringer: Well, … it looks as if the right thing to ask is, why do you believe the world is round?

Alhane: A good question, and it took me a long time to be convinced of it, I'll not tell you wrongly. I'll show you the first evidence that got me thinking.

Alhane: Ah, it's raining, and the sun has begun to put on fur. But it isn't fully clothed yet, for the moment, and we might still see something. Look here.

Alhane: Do you see those little black specks on the sun?

Alhane: I keep a record of their positions. They travel across the sun. The bigger ones I can see get distorted, disappear around the edge, and in less than an average teclad come around to the other side. The sun, at least, acts like a ball, don't you think?

Stringer: Do you have any other evidence?

Alhane: Yes, … After all, I thought that if the sun was a ball, maybe the world was too. But I couldn't figure out a way of testing that, and my head ran itself around in circles. Finally, one beclad in the market, I spotted my own shadow being cast on a rather large melon. The shadows were the key, it came to me in that instant. But that was only the beginning. After beclads of excruciating thought—and this I can't underestimate—I eventually decided that if the world was flat and the sun traveling above it, then the sun's rays would strike the ground at the same angle whether you were north or south. Indeed, this requires the assumption that the sun is small and far away and that the rays can be considered parallel. You might object that I have no justification for making that assumption unless I know how far away the sun is—which I don't—and I would say you're right. Nonetheless, it was the simplest assumption to make—I would agree with that myself, and somebannk when all the answers are in, I am sure I will be borne out.

Alhane: On the other hand, and under the same assumption, if the world was curved then the angle of the sun would change depending on where you were. It took me a long time to figure that out; after all, I'm no geometer, am I not? My father was more the mathematical type but I hate the stuff. Does it, I ask you, give you any feel for real things? Have you ever seen a perfect triangle in nature? Or a semi-infinite half plane? Geometry is really very fictitious, especially if the world truly is a ball. In that case, I ask you further, does it make any sense to talk about plane geometry at all? Certainly not. You can't make real triangles on a sphere. Whoever invented plane geometry was living in a world of his own.

Alhane: Anyway, not to digress, this was all four or five Bannks ago. What I did then was to take two big rods like so … and go out onto the beach with an assistant. We planted the first rod in the sand, making sure that it was quite straight, and then I ran down the beach with the second rod, doing the same thing. At my signal we both measured the length of the shadow cast by the sun. To my profound disappointment, I'll be truthful on that, we saw no difference in the lengths of the shadows. Absolutely none. At first I thought that the world was surely flat but, after some thought, I decided to try bigger poles. We repeated the experiment, hoping that taller posts would make the difference in shadow lengths easier to see. The only result was that I got tired from running up and down the beach. Finally, and this was a curious thought, I conjectured that perhaps the world was bigger than I had expected, and so I sailed down the coast for a few dozens of kilometers. We thought we could trust our clocks for that short amount of time to make sure we took the readings at the same instant, although, on afterthought, that turned out not to be so crucial; the sun does move very slowly, as you can see. So we did it. Again nothing. There was absolutely nothing.

Alhane: By this time, you can be sure that I was about to give up the whole project. However, I was possessed by the idea and vowed to go all the way to Glintz the next Bannk. Now, I shan't tell you falsely that no one ever goes to Glintz, especially just to measure shadows. So I got a number of rods—taking many poles and averaging data would offer more reasonable results, don't you agree?—and left some behind at Ta-tjenen and sailed south to Glintz. Because our clocks wouldn't be useful after such a journey, we were especially careful to get there before Mid-Bannk, when we would take most of the readings. When we got back to Ta-tjenen, my assistants and I compared measurements. Once again I felt my heart freezing, because the first readings taken on the way south showed nothing definite. Oh, there were small differences in shadow lengths, hardly readable, I tell you, but some showed the longer shadow on the northern pole and some showed it on the southern. And I'm afraid it can't be both at once, whether the world is flat or round.

Alhane: Finally we reached the measurements taken at Glintz itself. Again, on the shorter poles where reading anything is difficult, only small random fluctuations showed up. At last, on most of the taller poles we got results that were big enough to be read, and some of those agreed as closely as might be expected. It wasn't much to go on, but enough to convince me. It convinced no one else, I can tell you that.

Stringer: Why not?

Alhane: Ah, Stringer Not of Ta-tjenen, when I got my results back and showed them around, people said, Why, that's only a few centimeters' difference in the length of a shadow, not even a finger's length. And if your measurements were not made at the same time, then everything is meaningless. And of course, you have no way of telling that the measurements were made at the same time.

Alhane: And I replied, No, you're quite wrong. That's why we took lots of measurements at Mid-Bannk, when the sun was moving the slowest—and that is very slow indeed. Certainly, by taking measurements every few belclads, we could be sure to find the shortest shadow, even through the haze if we were lucky, indicating that the measurement was taken precisely at Mid-Bannk. And then I went on to explain that we wanted local Mid-Bannk wherever we were, be it Glintz or Ta-tjenen, and it didn't matter if the two towns were directly north or south, which would make the Mid-Bannks at the same time. This went totally over their heads, and I gave up trying to explain it to them.

Alhane: Still, they wouldn't be silenced. And how do you know how far it is to Glintz? they asked. You can't measure the distance with a ruler; you can only guess at it from your travel times and estimated speeds. What if you're wrong?

Alhane: That, I replied, would only change the size of the world and not the shape, so your objection is irrelevant.

Alhane: No sooner had I made this devastating rebuttal than they raised the objection that the measuring pole had to be perfectly vertical or the results would be wrong. Was that ever dirt in the eyes! When I calculated the error that a slightly tilted pole would cause, and estimated the accuracy with which I could make a pole vertical by eye, I realized that the experiment was at best questionable, at worst totally useless. In fact, I am sure those random readings and wholesale disagreements I spoke of were caused by just this phenomenon: poles tilting in the wind. What is even sadder, it seems that by increasing the height of the pole to make reading the results easier, one just increases the error by the same percentage. So tall poles do not decrease the error, only enlarge it along with the true result. Thus, my tall-pole readings at Glintz may have simply made my readings of a systematic error more accurate, and the world could still be flat.

Alhane: I resolved to go back to Glintz the next Bannk with better apparatus, which I did, making sure that the poles were perfectly vertical, which, to be sure, is no mean feat in the wind. To my great and overwhelming satisfaction, I got the same results, or close enough. Still, the same objections were raised when I returned. After all, would you change the shape of the world because one shadow is half a finger longer than another two thousand kilometers away?

Alhane: Well, at this point, I sent a ship out onto the ocean and watched it all the while with my telescope, hoping to see it sink, which, as you suggest, occurs on your world. I wanted to show the others that proof, too. But after looking and seeing little more than a blur—and that only if I was being optimistic—I knew I wasn't going to convince anybody.

Stringer: And yet you still believed?

Alhane: I did begin to doubt my results again, especially when I used them to compute the size of Patra-Bannk. It's two million kilometers around! How could I believe it? You ask about sailing around the world—and I tried to measure shadows running up and down the beach! What a comedy of errors!

Stringer: But you're right,

Alhane: So, … nobody believed me and I hardly did, either. When I suggested that my theory predicted that the sun would look higher in the south and therefore the south should be hotter than Ta-tjenen, just as the Long Bannk is hotter than the Short, everyone laughed. That's when I decided to take an expedition to Godrhan, which, as I've said, is more than twice as far as Glintz. And the angle so measured is more than twice as big as the ones I have measured before. I'll bet on that without having seen the latest data from Ta-tjenen. Furthermore, as the sun is lowest this Bannk, the error due to any pole tilt will be lessened, I will so argue. … Maybe Ta-tjenen will believe me now, maybe they won't. It's a few questionable shadows versus the obvious.

Stringer: Would you go past Godrhan to get more of a change in the shadows? That might convince them.

Alhane: But beyond Godrhan is the Edge of the World.

Alhane: Does it really matter to Ta-tjenen whether the world is flat or round? Ta-tjenen is its own world; it has to be by necessity, and no one can blame them for that. Perhaps somebannk it will be different, but I doubt it.

Stringer: If it makes you feel any better, you're right.

Alhane: I knew I was.

Stringer: Tell me, … why do they call you the Time Keeper?

Alhane: Because that's supposed to be my job. It was passed on to me over generations. All the previous Time Keepers had the regimen worked out fairly well, so all I had to do was learn it. It isn't much of a job any more, not unless I can discover a better way of keeping time. And you can be sure I haven't been able to do that.

Stringer: But I don't understand why anyone has to do it.

Alhane: How else would you keep track of how long the Bannk is?

Stringer: But can't you do that by looking at the big sundial?

Alhane: And how good is that? Better than most of the clocks, actually. But who is to say which Bannk we are on?

Stringer: I've heard they change.

Alhane: Most certainly! This is the Weird Bannk, so called because, as you have seen, the sun travels almost horizontally across the sky, hardly up at all, and even the sunset seems too long—

Stringer: Not long enough!

Alhane: It is the shortest of all the Bannks, and the temperature is pleasant.

Stringer: It is?

Alhane: You saw the sun this Bannk? A trifle. It never finds its way into the sky. Wait 'til next Bannk, the Killer Bannk, which is the longest of all, and, I'll not tell you wrongly, the sun climbs twice as high as in this Bannk. The teclads are long and almost all activity stops. But before then is a Short Patra, longer than this Bannk, coming shortly, as you can see—

Stringer: Yes, I can.

Alhane: The Killer Bannk is followed by another Short Patra, which is in turn followed by another Weird Bannk. After the Weird Bannk we have a Long Patra and a Long Bannk, each as long as the other but not as long as the Killer Bannk. Following the Long Bannk is a Weird Patra, so called because it is as long—or as short—as the Weird Bannk, thus making it the shortest of all the Patras. On its heels comes the first of the Short Bannks, which is not as long as the Long Bannk but is longer than the Weird Bannk—

Stringer: Why do you call it the Short Bannk if it is not?

Alhane: Because the shortest Bannk already has another name: the Weird Bannk. If we changed it, then we would have to find another name for the Short Bannk. But to continue—the Short Bannk is followed by the Deep Freeze, equally as long as the Killer Bannk. The Deep Freeze precedes another Short Bannk, as short—or as long—as a Short Patra, which is followed consecutively by a Weird Patra, a Long Bannk, a Long Patra, and then the cycle starts all over again with the Weird Bannk after seven Bannks and seven Patras. So the sundial must keep track of seven Bannks, and we have not even discussed what to do in the Patra.

Stringer: If there are seven Bannks to keep track of, then how come the sundial only shows four scales? I should think there would be seven.

Alhane: If you were counting, there are only four different types of Patras and Bannks, although the cycle is seven Patra-Bannks long.

Stringer: How long is a Patra-Bannk, if they're all different?

Alhane: Either that question is meaningless or the answer is obvious. But let's not digress. We are talking about the Time Keeper. Of course, my duties don't stop with just deciding which Bannk we are on, which the sundial does, anyway. There is the Golun calendar as well, and, I ask you, what about the Parlztlu? Of course, there is the additional task of keeping track of how long the beclad is at any given time—

Stringer: How long a beclad is? Do you mean all the units change?

Alhane: No, … The clad itself, which goes by in the flap of a solofar, is too short to bother changing, as is the belclad. But telclads, beclads, and teclads all change noticeably. Telclads only on the best clocks. Otherwise—or even in that case—the error usually swamps the actual change. So beclads and teclads remain to worry about.

Stringer: But how can the larger units change and not the smaller?

Alhane: If you change a large unit—make it larger, for instance—then I'd say you can either increase the small units proportionally or just put in more of the small units into the large.

Stringer: What if they don't fit?

Alhane: Do you mean, what if there's not an integral number?

Stringer: Right.

Alhane: As I've said, the clad is quite small, so there is always an integral number in, say, even a telclad.

Stringer: Not theoretically.

Alhane: I'm not talking about theory, am I?

Stringer: That sounds like cheating to me.

Alhane: No, it's just a matter of how accurately we want to bother defining the units. I quantize them. That makes it easy, I'll say truthfully.

Stringer: If that makes it easy, why bother with any of this? … What good can changing the units do?

Alhane: Well, let's think about it, should we not? Obviously, the Bannks and Patras all differ greatly in a highly asymmetrical fashion, and it is hard to remember exactly how—as you've just seen. Time between Mid-bannk and sunset varies between each Bannk as well as from sunrise to Mid-bannk. But what Ta-tjenen is interested in is simply when to come Above and when to go Under. So it is just as easy to keep everything nice and even, let's say six teclads for each Bannk and each Patra. I think that's reasonable.

Stringer: Okay, then you have to change the size of the unit from Bannk to Patra. That seems fairly reasonable, even though on my world I've never heard of such a thing. But to change them during the Bannk seems absolutely outrageous.

Alhane: Well, I suppose that depends on how you define a teclad, don't you think? We define it as the time it takes the sun to move one-third of the way up or down the sky. And of course that changes. You see the sun move quickly at first, then slow down as it approaches its maximum, and then speed up again on its way back down.

Stringer: What a ridiculous system! No wonder no one in Ta-tjenen ever knows what time it is!

Alhane: How would you define a teclad?

Stringer: Why not just a sixth of a given Bannk?

Alhane: And how do you determine how long that is? With bad clocks, it's easier to measure the angle of the sun. But, in concession to your views, I was toying with the idea of keeping the teclad constant and changing the angle in the sky which the sun moves during its traversal. However, that bothered me a little.

Stringer: I should hope so.

Alhane: It does seem that the size of an angle should remain fixed.

Stringer: Why not the size of a beclad or a teclad? Are they any less real?

Alhane: As I've asked you before, how do you define these terms? Not only is it hard to conceive of what a teclad might be, once that's decided, but it is hard enough to measure, so you might as well change it if we need to. I admit, though, I balked at changing the angle in the sky.

Stringer: I'm at least glad for that.

Alhane: At any rate, no matter what system you use, or what system I use, building a clock that keeps good time on Patra-Bannk is difficult; there is so little to check it with, especially during the Patra, when there is nothing to check it with. I do have one of our best here.…

Stringer: Why are there seven scales here and only four for the sundial?

Alhane: If you remember, there are only four different types of Bannks and Patras, as I told you, but the cycle is seven Patra-Bannks long. This clock counts them separately.

Stringer: So why does the sundial have only four?

Alhane: Why do you see with your eyes? Because a shadow can't tell the difference between two Bannks that are the same, that's why. My grandfather built this, or my grandmother, I'm not sure which, although I'm told that the jewels are from the Polkraitz themselves. We have few enough now.

Stringer: Tell me one more thing: What is the Golun-Patra? It keeps following me around and I don't think I like it.

Alhane: The Golun-Patra occurs once every ninety-seven Patra-Bannks.

Stringer: Why is that?

Alhane: Because the Golun is ninety-seven beclads long, whereas the Patra-Bannk is one hundred forty-four.

Stringer: But what is a Golun and why is it ninety-seven beclads?

Alhane: Well, the Golun is one-third of a Parlztlu, why I can't say exactly. But if you start off the Golun and Patra-Bannk together, they don't coincide again for another ninety-seven Patra-Bannks, one Golun-Patra. This is the twelfth Golun-Patra since the revolt, a special anniversary because it is the twelfth.

Stringer: And does it have something to do with the return of the Polkraitz?

Alhane: I don't know. Does it have anything to do with that?

Stringer: Sarek or Verlaxchi—whichever is in charge around here! That old woman Kenken Wer, who tried to kill me, and most of Ta-tjenen seem to think it does.

Alhane: Kenken Wer, yes. The Great Cackler. Well, I can't speak for her.

Stringer: I think I need some more fresh air.

Alhane: Verlaxchi! What happened?

Stringer: There was a great fire just before the rains. Most of the forest is in ruins. You will not be returning to a happy city, Time Keeper.

Alhane: Do you know if there is fuel enough?

Stringer: For this Patra, at least, I was told. If I were Ta-tjenen, I would start being like most worlds and begin using oil.

Alhane: Oil? Certainly there isn't enough oil in all the grask in Ta-tjenen to do that.

Stringer: No, I mean oil from the ground.

Alhane: I've never heard of any of that.

Stringer: Curious maybe, maybe not. But then there seem to be a few curious things about this planet. The gravity, for instance.

Alhane: Humph. I never could understand it.

Stringer: Neither could I, but something is certainly wrong on Patra-Bannk.

Alhane: Really? The world is always much more interesting when something is wrong with it. Tell me.

Stringer: Let me get it straight. I think I finally remembered the exact expression. The weight of an object on a planet is proportional to the mass of the planet divided by the radius squared—

Alhane: Amazing! Is it always true? Everywhere?

Stringer: Yes, as far as I know.

Alhane: Incredible! Go on! Go on! Aha…

Stringer: Now, see if I make sense. On my planet, which is about one-fiftieth the diameter of this one, I weigh about the same as I do here—

Alhane: I see! That means the mass of Patra-Bannk is about twenty-five hundred times that of your world.

Stringer: But don't you see how ridiculous that is? The volume of Patra-Bannk is one hundred twenty thousand times that of my world, so the mass can't be twenty-five hundred times that of my world unless the density is fifty times less than on— … If the density was the same or even nearly, I should weigh about fifty times more than I do.

Alhane: Amazing. … Put us ashore a minute, would you?

boat captain: In this weather? Are you sure?

Alhane: Yes, yes, go ahead. Don't mind the waves. Go ahead.

Alhane: Is your world made out of dirt?

Stringer: A lot of it is. I don't know how much. A lot is water, too.

Alhane: Well, Stringer Who Asks Odd Questions, if that is true, then I would guess that Patra-Bannk would float on water—if you found an ocean big enough.

Stringer: If! But that's what I thought,

Alhane: Are you sure your gravity is right?

Stringer: Absolutely. Everybody learns it when they're ten. I forgot about it until I got here; I never had any use for it. But I'm sure that's the formula.

Alhane: Surely you misremembered. The observations show you are wrong: you are standing on your own two feet.

Stringer: No, I am sure I am right.

Alhane: I am certain you are wrong. How does one figure it out? I'd like to check it.

Stringer: That I don't know—

Alhane: But that is what is important to know.

Stringer: What do you mean?

Alhane: It seems to me that it is more important to know how to verify what you say than to know the fact itself, don't you think, especially since you're so obviously mistaken?

Stringer: I'm not sure. All I can tell you is that it has something to do with measuring the positions of the planets against the stars in the night sky— … Of course you wouldn't know; you're always underground at night.

Alhane: But I have seen stars. Once in a great while, if my clock is off enough so that I go out to find the sunrise much too early, by a few beclads, I can see one or two. I'm not sure what they are, perhaps balls of ice, parts of the atmosphere frozen.

Stringer: Not balls of ice, and I don't think one or two would be good enough. Somehow you have to observe the planets and figure out how they go around the sun—

Alhane: What do you mean, go around the sun?

Stringer: That's what I mean. … Don't you believe that Patra-Bannk goes around the sun?

Alhane: No, should I?

Stringer: Do you mean to tell me, Time Keeper with the Bad Clocks, that you have decided the world is round and yet you still believe the sun and the stars—all two of them—move around Patra-Bannk?

Alhane: I don't see what one thing has to do with the other. Anyone with eyes in his head can see that the sun goes around Patra-Bannk.

Stringer: You're right. Absolutely. Well, I wish you luck, Time Keeper Who Asks the Right Questions. I can tell you it took some of the greatest minds in history to figure out gravity, and I certainly am not one of them.

Alhane: Who is?

Chapter Ten

Conjectures and Refutations

Pike: We were so close, … And yet the answer has eluded us.

Paddelack: Remember what you've got, though, … Also remember that we don't have any idea where the factory might be. We're assuming it is in or near this city. It might not even be on this planet.

Pike: Don't say that. Searching this city is proving impossible enough, walking forever down vacant streets and alleys. Can you imagine searching the entire planet? Or the Universe? I don't even want to think about it.

Paddelack: Do you think answers are easy to find? You're the one who's always talking about patience.

Pike: Well?

Paddelack: If you have a gateway—

Pike: Let's go.

Paddelack: I hope we manage to find a better way up, or I don't think I will make it,

Paddelack: I think this is more metallic hydrogen. Frictionless rails, maybe? Do you think the builders would stoop to anything so simple?

Paddelack: Ouch,

Pike: It might be quartz,

Paddelack: God, it is. Just as we guessed. For twenty years I wondered, and it's true. This planet is a hollow shell and we're on the inside. … That's the inner surface right above our heads.

Pike: That certainly would explain the low density.

Paddelack: I hope that doesn't make the planet too light. That shell would have to be mighty heavy to produce the gravity we see. … No, I'm wrong. Sorry. … We're not on the inside of a hollow sphere.

Pike: It sounded like a good idea—I guess. What's wrong with it?

Paddelack: We'd be weightless, neglecting, of course, the small gravity produced by this causeway beneath us. … If you are on the inside of a sphere, inside the hollow, gravity cancels out and you're left weightless. And that's true anywhere on the inside.

Pike: How can gravity cancel out?

Paddelack: Let's see if I remember how it works: if we are close to one section of the wall, that section pulls us toward it with a much greater force than the far section of the wall pulls us in the opposite direction. … But in a sphere, the far section is then much bigger than the near section, so it attracts you more because it is bigger and has more mass to it. The two effects cancel out on the inside of a sphere, and we're left weightless.

Pike: But clearly we're not,

Paddelack: Clearly. That's one theory shot, by Sarek—Verlaxchi, for that matter. … But I do want to go out there.

Pike: All right, but first let's see what else is here. I don't want to make too many trips up that stairway.

Paddelack: Is it? … Please tell me no.

Pike: I'm not sure. It does look…similar. … No, it is only similar. Not the same, I tell you.

Paddelack: I want to go inside,

Pike: And, I ask you, how?

Paddelack: What about this?

Pike: No, don't, … Let's get some suits first. We don't know what, if anything, is inside.

Paddelack: Of course. Give me some credit, will you? Now let's find our way back up.

Pike: Sarek! … If you abandoned a city, would you leave it in working order for any vagabond who happened to stumble by?

Paddelack: Do you include yourself in that category?

Pike: Of course not.

Paddelack: Then remember about webbed feet and eagles and let's go.

Paddelack: Where do you think she is?

Pike: It's a big planet. Maybe she went for a walk. She'll turn up. … I doubt that she has gone far. It's clear that there is no place to go, right?

Pike: Well?

Paddelack: It's high vacuum out there, … This gauge goes down to about ten-to-the-minus-seven millimeters, and I'll bet it's lower out there. I wonder how much lower.

Pike: I wouldn't know.

Pike: So, … where does that get us?

Paddelack: Absolutely nowhere.

Paddelack: I thought that if this planet was made out of metallic hydrogen, I'd figure out the thickness of a shell needed to produce the observed gravity. I don't know the density of metallic hydrogen, so I took a guess at magnesium and used that instead. I thought that would give me a ballpark estimate—

Pike: And—?

Paddelack: If we are willing to believe that this planet is a shell of the order of ten thousand kilometers thick, then it might work. I don't believe it.

Pike: And how does that explain the vacuum a kilometer down?

Paddelack: It doesn't, of course, unless the rocket hangar is some kind of pocket in the shell. That theory sounds almost plausible. But the theorizing gets fancier with every additional assumption and less tasty, too. Planet's not a shell of metallic hydrogen, I'll say that with Bitter Certainty.

Pike: You will? Give yourself credit, Paddy. If what you tell me about gravity canceling out inside spheres is true, then it seems to me we really have no evidence that we went beneath the shell at all. In fact, my good Paddelack, we may have barely scratched the surface, so we'd still feel gravity. Thus, it seems to me that your original thick-shell hypothesis is a good one—

Paddelack: Except for the vacuum.

Pike: Easier to explain than gravity, wouldn't you say?

Paddelack: You can have it your way. I refuse to believe that anyone could build a shell of metallic hydrogen ten thousand kilometers thick. I'm absolutely positive. I'd rather believe Patra-Bannk is natural. Theorists these days are so slippery they can figure out a way for anything to happen. The rule to follow is: if it is not expressly forbidden, then it's compulsory. A rather totalitarian way of looking at things, but it always works; half the major discoveries of the last three hundred years were predicted by the use of that principle.

Pike: Well, … we have more important things to occupy us, like a manufacturing facility to find.

Paddelack: And a missing girl. Which do we attend to first?

Pike: What do you want me to do? … All we can hope to do is run into her somewhere along the line.

Paddelack: Why don't we forget the facility and try to find her? Even if we locate what we are looking for, chances are we won't even know it. All we've seen are buildings enclosed in this giant tent, empty rooms, amphitheaters, who-knows-what-else built by who-knows-what. About all we can tell is nothing.

Pike: Do you want to leave? What chance of finding her then?

Pike: Patra-Bannk?

Paddelack: Of course, it must be.

Pike: And what about those lines?

Paddelack: Look at that spot up there!

Pike: I've noticed that, … There must be five dozen lines from that one. Hmm, that one ends up where you say Massarat should be.

Paddelack: Ah. … It could be anywhere. Scale is too big. Do you think it could be a communications network of some kind?

Pike: Between what?

Paddelack: You do have a point there. Where do you suppose that major intersection is?

Pike: Of course! It's Triesk! I'm sure of it. It's just where Triesk is on the Polkraitz map. It must be.

Paddelack: But the scale, … I'm telling you, you could be off by a thousand kilometers at least.

Pike: No. Look at the distance between Massarat and that point. It's perceivable, about thirty centimeters, would you say? If Massarat and Triesk are a hundred thousand kilometers apart, that must be it. Besides, look at the curve on the coast, the latitude compared with Daryephna, the mountain range ending somewhat south of it. We can check the other map, but I'm sure.…Could the Gostum have had something?

Paddelack: What do you mean?

Pike: Have the people of Triesk found something that might explain all this? We found rockets here; there might also be rockets at Triesk. We have to go and find out. Do we have all the hydrogen loaded aboard the Crimson that we can carry?

Paddelack: Yes, I think so.

Pike: Good, let's go to Triesk.

Paddelack: What about Barbalan?

Pike and Paddelack: Barbalan!

Paddelack: How did you get in here?

Pike: Where have you been?

Paddelack: Did you have food?

Barbalan: You must come with me, … It is important; you must come!

Paddelack: What is the problem?

Barbalan: Please, it is important.

Paddelack: What are you doing? What is going to happen here?

Pike: I'll sit down. Nothing has happened to us yet; why should anything happen to us now?

Barbalan: But…but you must understand. I don't…

Paddelack: What happened?

Pike: I don't know. It was like a sledgehammer, though. Wham, and I was out.

Paddelack: Are you all right now?

Pike: I think so. But I also think that it is high time to go to Triesk before we get into any more trouble with the city's defenses.

Paddelack: Oh no, I just remembered something. We're too late.

Pike: What do you mean, my good friend? Explain yourself.

Paddelack: It was stupid to forget, but it is also understandable. I guess we forgot because we've been here for so long now. On Two-Bit you fly across the ocean and the time changes several hours. We flew across the ocean and time changed back more than half a teclad. I'd guess we're about twenty Two-Bit days behind Triesk. Over there, the Patra has already begun, as it will here shortly.

Pike: What a stupid mistake! We waited too long.

Paddelack: We can't stay here too much longer, either, even if we wanted to. We're running out of food. I suppose we could head back to the big ship.

Pike: We have to refuel at the Crimson, anyway, sooner or later. But I suggest that for the Patra we go to Konndjlan.

Paddelack: What! … Are you gone completely?

Pike: No, listen. We don't know what is going to happen to us if we stay here, on several counts. We may freeze to death, or whatever it was that got me may decide to get us again. We have failed to find the manufacturing facility, besides, and the next step is, obviously, to go to Triesk. But we can't go now, because I gather they are already Under for the Patra, or Going Under. So we have to wait for the Bannk. The Gostum wanted us, so let them have us, and we can be comfortable.

Pike: Barbalan,

Barbalan: we're going to Konndjlan.

Chapter Eleven

Homecoming

Alhane: And why is this?

Stringer: That's a long story,

Alhane: Where are you going, Hurried Stringer?

Stringer: To my ship.

Alhane: Tell me, are you called anything else besides Time Keeper?

Alhane: Of course, … My name is Alhane.

Stringer: Good. I'll see you again.

Taljen: Alhane! I was hoping you would be in about now. … It is good to see you again. It has been a long Bannk without you.

Alhane: And equally long without you, my young helper. Tell me, are my children about?

Taljen: No, they are off trying to build something to impress you, no doubt. A strange thing to have children. And tell me, my Favorite Fool Alhane, have you discovered your empty theory yet?

Alhane: No, I am sure that one glance at your data will tell me that I was right. Let me see your Mid-bannk readings.

Alhane: Aha! You see, I was right. There is absolutely no question any longer. Five centimeters' difference at least between my shortest and all of yours. Look at this.

Alhane: Why, you don't seem to be very happy about it. This is a great occasion, is it not?

Taljen: You could still be wrong. It is only a handful of centimeters. A mistake would be all too probable. To change, the shape of the world on a handful of centimeters…

Alhane: But the trend! The difference is bigger than it was at Glintz. Look here! The trend! It's what you'd expect if you travel further, isn't it? And the times and all the other objections? We've gone over that before.

Taljen: I…I guess you're right, … Oh, I don't know.

Alhane: Why, then, are you so unhappy? It doesn't matter that I was right or that you were wrong, but that we have found out something about the world that we didn't know before. Isn't that enough? Why bring ideology into it?

Taljen: It's not that at all. It's that…that maybe I have made a mistake; I'm not sure.

Alhane: There is certainly nothing wrong with making mistakes, as long as we make them as fast as possible.

Taljen: It has nothing to do with the experiment, Teacher, but with the Alien. I thought he was just a murderer who talked with ideas crazier than your own, who asked stupid questions that were impossible to answer and got everyone he met angry at him.

Alhane: I have met an Alien on my trip, and his questions were most interesting.

Taljen: What? … Tell me his name! Do you know it?

Alhane: Yes, of course. His name is Stringer and he is somewhere about now. I brought him back when we found him stranded down the coast.

Taljen: Lashgar help us! He's back. Benjfold…I must warn him. Who knows what will happen—

Alhane: What are you talking about?

Taljen: Stringer killed Mornli, my first brother's nesta's sister, when he came to Ta-tjenen and was going to be exposed. He tried to escape during the fire and Benjfold tried to kill him by throwing him overboard. There is no time; I must warn Benjfold.

Alhane: Stringer didn't seem like a murderer to me.

Taljen: I don't know what Stringer is, but he isn't one of us, that's all I can tell you. Now let me go.

Stringer: Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pierce your throat,

Benjfold: You wouldn't risk killing me, not after the first—

Stringer: Why not? Ta-tjenen and I are nearing the parting of the ways, anyway, Benjfold Traitor. I was to leave you in good faith before and you tricked me. Why shouldn't I leave you permanently now?

Benjfold: You are Polkraitz; this is the Golun-Patra. You caused the fire, you and the Gostum.

Stringer: If you believe that, you are more of a fool than I thought.

Benjfold: You would not leave Ta-tjenen alive if you killed me.

Stringer: So what else is new?

Stringer: You begin to understand what it is like to be under a death sentence. How desperate are you? What will you do to live? What kind of bargain will you strike?

Benjfold: I…I don't know. I don't understand,

Stringer: Of course you don't. Everyone you've ever known is a close friend. You've never been threatened by anything but Patra-Bannk in your life.

Taljen: Stringer!

Taljen: He almost killed you!

Benjfold: I'm not sure, … I'm not sure at all.

Alhane: So, … Don't you think Stringer had good reason to want to kill Benjfold? Benjfold had tried to kill Stringer before, is that not right?

Taljen: Yes, but what difference does that make? Stringer just wanted— … It would be as if I were to kill you or my third nesta, or my mother's third cousin.

Alhane: And what about Benjfold wanting to kill Stringer? Whoever heard of that?

Taljen: Stringer has caused many problems.

Alhane: But, I ask you, is it worth abandoning him to the Patra for those problems?

Taljen: If he is a killer—

Alhane: And Benjfold? A killer? Who would believe it? There is too much in Stringer to be wasted, my young friend, and I think you see that.

Taljen: Alhane, you are better at confusing things than anyone I have ever met—

Taljen: Except Stringer. What will you do to help him live?

Taljen: What can be done now?

Alhane: There may be one thing. The nestrexa is at the heart of Ta-tjenen, am I not right?

Taljen: Yes, but for yourself, that binds us all together. It is true.

Alhane: The Parlztluzan is later this beclad, Taljen.

Alhane: Tell me, where is Stringer's ship?

Stringer: What do you want?

Alhane: I've been told that you plan on staying here for the Patra.

Stringer: I've told no one that.

Alhane: We guess well. Do you realize how foolish that is? How impossible?

Stringer: This ship is made for worse conditions than are found on your planet—if you can believe it.

Alhane: But you'd be alone, and it will be a Short Patra, longer than this Bannk.

Stringer: I have a rodoft and my mind.

Alhane: Perhaps, Young Stringer, your mind will be your worst enemy. And if you survive, what will you do then, I ask you?

Stringer: I came with companions who are now lost. I must find them if they are to be found. So I will go south.

Alhane: I didn't know there were others. How far are they?

Stringer: When I left them, about one hundred thousand kilometers, a little more.

Alhane: Humph. A long way, to be sure. A hundred thousand! No one at Ta-tjenen thinks in terms of ten kilometers, let alone a hundred thousand. If not for my calculations, I thank them, I wouldn't have believed the world was that big myself.

Stringer: I know. I've gone through that before, but this ship travels that kind of distance.

Alhane: But I see it is damaged. Will you still fly?

Stringer: No. I'll sail, walk, I don't know. Do you think I will stay here?

Alhane: And what will you do next Patra, another Short one, and the Patra after that, which is Long, and during the Bannks in between?

Stringer: What do you suggest?

Alhane: First you have to live through the Patra—

Stringer: I plan on doing my best.

Alhane: —and then at the beginning of the Bannk you could make a balloon.…No, that wouldn't work; it's too slow and unreliable.…At the beginning of the Bannk…Wait! That's it! It might work. It's possible. I may be correct—

Stringer: What?

Alhane: A moment, I ask you, wait a moment.… … Yes, why not? At the beginning of the Bannk and almost all through the Bannk, the ocean is cooler than the land; I've measured it myself, I'll not tell you otherwise. And you can see the air rising over the land where the clouds form. Then they are carried south by the prevailing winds.

Stringer: I've noticed that.

Alhane: Then the answer is clear: glide!

Stringer: Oh, come on. You can't take a sailplane one hundred thousand kilometers! We don't even know if the wind is south all the way.

Alhane: It's my guess that it is.

Stringer: I'm not so sure. Still, you have to stop sometime. You need food, sleep. The best I've flown is about a thousand kilometers on a good day.

Alhane: A day? Do you mean a good Bannk? A good Bannk lasts six teclads. And the next Bannk is the longest, thirty per cent longer than this one. Yes, it is the Killer Bannk—

Stringer: A pleasant thought…I'd still have to land, and once I land that's it.

Alhane: There certainly must be towns along the way. They could launch you with grask, as we will here. Grask, as you undoubtedly know, are very strong and can run very fast. There is no problem. In theory it should work.

Stringer: In theory. … Yes, there are towns. We must have missed them on the way up because they were too small to see or because we were going so fast, or because of the haze. Maybe the surprising thing is that we saw Ta-tjenen. But they're there; the cameras caught them, even if they are no more than villages.

Alhane: So, you already have a map, I take it. All you have to do is land near the villages. Then up you go again with the help of a few grask.

Stringer: We still need a sailplane. I might be able to build one. Pike made me fly in them often enough; they're similar to this shuttle in flight characteristics. I even had to take them apart and put them back together as training for emergencies. I think I could do it.

Alhane: With my help. This should be an interesting project. All I've built so far are models.

Stringer: I'll have to check on the distances between towns.

Alhane: I doubt you will find them far. Ta-tjenen was the first town, and how far do you think you can move a settlement in the Bannk before you die of the heat, before you must dig Under for the Patra? Moving on Patra-Bannks must be very slow. I've never met anyone from farther south than Godrhan, and I'll tell you this: I'm surprised your map showed any villages at all.

Stringer: So you didn't know. I suspected that. Well, I'll have to check more carefully. But even if all this manages to work, we still have one problem.

Alhane: And what is that?

Stringer: When is this sailplane going to get built?

Alhane: There is a Short Patra ahead—

Stringer: —with you under and me Above.

Alhane: The Going Under is not for half a teclad yet—

Stringer: But the teclads have been growing shorter, I've been told.

Alhane: Remember, … this is the Weird Bannk, and even the sunset seems too long, even if it isn't. So we'll work on it. Right now I need your help with an experiment.

Alhane: They're all wrong, useless. Hardly a one keeps as good time as the sun. There's hardly a point in having clocks at all if they can't tell me when to come out at Bannkbreak.

Alhane: From the Junk. Now, I'd thank you if you will come out into the rain again with me.

Alhane: Do you see those two posts up there? The little ones jutting out? I'd ask you to attach these two wires to them.

Stringer: What are you doing?

Alhane: You'll see even as I do! … Ouch! Lashgar is with us. Let's hope the wind keeps up.

Stringer: A trivially easy wish.

Alhane: All right, then… … Aha! I think we have something here! Let's see if we cannot make it brighter. … Ahahahah! We have light, and not a little of it!

Stringer: You've invented the dynamo?

Alhane: The what? I haven't invented anything. I just copied an old rusted thing I found in the Junk a few Patra-Bannks ago and saw what it could do.

Stringer: Is this water in the tank?

Alhane: It's sea water. The process doesn't work with rainwater, so there must be something else here, too.

Stringer: I don't think this works with Two-Bit sea water. At least I've never heard of such a thing.

Alhane: Well, then this isn't Two-Bit sea water, is it? Evidently we have an added ingredient, another chemical or microorganism, perhaps. To be truthful, I haven't the faintest idea of why it works at all—

Stringer: I don't, either.

Alhane: But you indicated you knew of such devices.

Stringer: Dynamos? On my world things like that are taken for granted—

Alhane: What good is taking something for granted?

Stringer: You're right. So now what will you do with it?

Alhane: What will we do with it? After that fire, we need all the fuel we can get. This will save all the fuel that normally goes for lighting. And the chances of suffocating go down, too. Do you realize how hard it is to ventilate the Under, especially with fires burning all over the place? We will have to start the installation this moment and no later.

Stringer: Well, good luck, or Lashgar be with you, whichever you prefer.

Alhane: You won't help? … That's very curious.

Stringer: No. I'm not feeling very generous toward Ta-tjenen. I'd rather relax for the next few beclads and collect some supplies if I can.

Alhane: That is rather self-centered of you.

Stringer: Yes, it is. But then, I'm not a Tjenen. Good-bye, Time Keeper; I hope I see you again sometime.

Stringer: Moving again, I see, … When will you learn to slow down? Do you ever hear me, Sun?

Alhane: Come on!

Alhane: Stay here!

Kenken Wer: So you are Gwyned, my third brother's son's first nesta.

Kenken Wer: Well, it seems that there are no problems. You are both on for at least the first half of the Parlztlu, correct?

Gwyned: Yes, … Here are the names.

Kenken Wer: Oh, yes, one last thing. When do you sleep?

boy: Hmm, … I am currently sleeping around the third part of the beclad.

Gwyned: And I the second.

Kenken Wer: So we will put you in the two-three section for the moment, unless, of course, you want to live separately.

Gwyned: No, we'll adjust to each other,

Kenken Wer: And naturally, you can shift sections if you find yourself getting out of phase with those around you.

Kenken Wer: Who's next?

Kenken Wer: So, Taljen, … I see you are going off and will be unable to bear children this Parlztlu. What are your plans?

Taljen: I want…I want the Alien.

Kenken Wer: And will you breed with him?

Kenken Wer: Besides, … the Alien is finally gone.

Taljen: He is Returned.

Kenken Wer: Verlaxchi! That Polkraitz is Returned? Who murdered and who caused the fire that ruined us all? He is not dead and you want him as nesta?

Taljen: Yes,

Kenken Wer: Impossible. He must be exposed.

Taljen: It is my right to choose anyone because I am going off. If you refuse, I will stay Above also when you Go Under. It is that simple.

Kenken Wer: This is outrageous! … Is this to be permitted?

elder: Unless we want Taljen dead, we don't see what can be done. It is within her rights. She will have to be responsible for the Alien's actions, of course.

Kenken Wer: Ugh! … Your child will remain with Uslid or be given to another for this Parlztlu, unless, of course, you have plans for it, too.

Taljen: I have no plans.

Stringer: Taljen…

Taljen: Please, Stringer, I don't want to talk now.

Stringer: I don't know why you have done this for me, but…I…I want to thank you.…Never…

Taljen: Don't be sure, Alien, that I did it for you. Now leave me be.

Chapter Twelve

And Back Again

Paddelack: I don't understand you, … First you risk our necks getting us out of Konndjlan, then we almost get killed trying to land in that incredible wind, and now you want to have us surely done in by climbing back onto that fortress. If we don't freeze on the mountain or blow off in this hurricane—the most likely thing that will happen—the Gostum will certainly have our heads once we find a way in.

Pike: No. If I am correct, they want us more than that.

Paddelack: If you are correct? Have you forgotten that they did their best to kill us when we tried to get out the first time?

Pike: Are you sure? Were they trying to kill us, or just keep us at Konndjlan?

Paddelack: Those wounds were certainly real! … And what about Barbalan? Do you know what they will do to her? Do you have any idea?

Pike: I will take responsibility for Barbalan—

Paddelack: Empty promises! What good is responsibility if they kill her? What good is your fancy responsibility then?

Pike: If they want us as much as I think they do, they will forgive Barbalan. In fact, I will make that a condition for our help.

Paddelack: Let me find out how she feels about this,

Barbalan: He may be right. If he isn't, I will certainly die, but then I have little choice, do I? So what matters it?

Pike: They why did you help us? … Because of Paddelack?

Barbalan: Amusement. Boredom, perhaps. What is one to do as a Gostum other than train to fight unseen enemies? Why not put the training to use? What difference does it make? I got you out, now you go back.

Pike: Well, I think it is time we got ready to climb. Rope, lights, tents, parkas…they're all in those storage cabinets. I am prepared.

Paddelack: That's mighty fine. It's been cooling off here in the shade; night comes quickly over a desert, and I suspect it is fairly negative by now. Let's hope we can stand up in the wind.

Pike: Let's hope.

Pike: Enough for tonight, … I can't go any farther.

Paddelack: The night will still be with us when we've rested. … But you're right, enough for now.

Pike: Tell me about the Gostum, Paddelack.

Paddelack: All I know is that the Gostum were evicted from Triesk by a group led by a certain Lashgar. Evidently there was a split over where to set up the main base while waiting for the Polkraitz to return. Most of the Gostum, who originally seemed to have had some power over the Trieskans, were killed, but those that weren't came south to Liddlefur, the other colony that had been set up down here. Which means they must have had shuttles of some kind. Anyway, the Liddlefurans who were here already didn't seem to get along with the Gostum too well, either, so the Gostum moved over to Konndjlan, where they have been ever since. Up at Triesk? Who knows? I wonder if the place still exists. How would you like to face Patra-Bannk after a war when probably half your people are dead? Triesk probably died of exposure the first Patra—if not the first Bannk.

Pike: And the Polkraitz themselves? The rulers, I take it. Who were they?

Paddelack: I guess those originally in charge of the operation here. Rulers? I don't know if that's the best term. But they left, that's for sure. The Gostum like to think the Polkraitz were on their side in the matter of where to maintain the base, but I don't know if that's true at all. Dates tend to blur when we look back, especially on Patra-Bannk, and I see no reason to view the Polkraitz and the Gostum as necessary contemporaries. Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. The two factions at Triesk could have developed after the Polkraitz left. Trouble with Polkraitz theorizing is that there's no evidence. You can make up any story you like and no one can disprove you.

Pike: Does she know who they were?

Barbalan: Who cares? They seem to have brought us to Patra-Bannk a long time ago and are not here any longer. Does it really matter?

Pike: It matters if we are to find out what that city means. It matters if the Gostum think we are Polkraitz—

Barbalan: Does it?

Pike: What do you mean?

Barbalan: I don't think you are Polkraitz, whatever the Golun-Patra and other prophecies foretell. May people must think you Polkraitz, perhaps not. Even Fara-Ny, who is wise with age, who knows? But I tell you this: above all, anyone who survives on Patra-Bannk must be practical, and the Gostum are more practical people than those of Liddlefur and Massarat. Your presence will be made the most of, that I can foretell. So what matters it if you are really Polkraitz?

Pike: Doesn't anything matter to you? … You help us escape Konndjlan seemingly just for fun, in disregard for your own life, come back in even more disregard, sit quietly while we abandon you for a city, get lost for weeks and think nothing of it, and now you say your entire history is of no consequence. What matters to you, anyway?

Barbalan: What you say may indeed be true, but only because it is so nonessential. I sit at Konndjlan and see the mountains rearing up mightily over my head and the Great Desert extending to the horizon and no doubt far beyond. You show me a Polkraitz map which shows that Triesk is one hundred thousand kilometers north of here, and then take me across an ocean half again as far as that. Some of the older Gostum argue the world is flat, even though the younger think otherwise because of that same map and the secret of the Fairtalian; at least this I am told. Flat or round, the size of Patra-Bannk is to me inconceivable. What does one hundred thousand kilometers mean to me? I have a hard enough time feeling the distance to the ocean, which is only several hundred. And yet, in addition, I am told the Polkraitz built great cities, like the one we saw, and roamed the Universe like yourselves. All this makes me feel even more insignificant, that nothing I can do really makes any difference whatsoever.

Pike: I'm afraid that all sounds very negative and fatalistic,

Barbalan: Not at all. That is what is essential. My insignificance gives me the freedom to do what I like, unencumbered by worries of consequences. Knowing I mean so little frees me from fear of death, as my death means no more than the death of an ant. … But I must admit that now I must stay alive and will have to be careful.

Pike: Why is that?

Barbalan: I must get you two to Konndjlan.…

Pike: And?

Barbalan: That is all.

Pike: The path is ended. Rocks and snow block it. We have to make our own path here.

Paddelack: Has it occurred to you that we might miss Konndjlan entirely? We could already be on top of it for all I know.

Pike: Have some faith, Paddy.

Paddelack: Faith in Lashgar? Certainly not in Sarek.

Pike: Faith in Barbalan and that she knows where she is going, I'd say.

Paddelack: Barbalan? … Where is she?

Pike: A little ahead, I assumed.

Paddelack: What the— … It didn't break—how could this stuff break?—it's unfastened. … Barbalan! Can you hear me? Barbalan!

Paddelack: Barbalan, if you can hear me, try to move. Maybe the snow will shift and we will see where you are.

Pike: I don't think she is here,

Paddelack: Where else could she be? There might be a deep gulley here. She could have fallen in and then the snow piled on top of her.

Pike: I don't think it is that deep, … I think she is gone. She was worried about what might happen to her at Konndjlan. Perhaps she just unfastened the rope and ran away, Paddy. That is conceivable, her cockeyed philosophy notwithstanding.

Paddelack: A Gostum? Even with her philosophy, a Gostum afraid of death? Gostum are afraid of little, least of all dying.

Pike: She did say she had to stay alive.

Paddelack: I didn't understand that at all.

Pike: Look, she's either dead or gone. You can't have it both ways. And in either case, there is nothing we can do about it. I suggest we settle down for a few hours and see if she comes back.

Paddelack: Doesn't it even bother you that she's gone?

Pike: Of course. She was very helpful and I certainly appreciated her company. But she is gone now and I don't see what we can do about it, except go on.

Paddelack: Go on? Go where? We don't have the faintest idea of where we are going! We could climb forever and miss that fortress in the dark.

Pike: We will go on and try to find Konndjlan.

Paddelack: You can kill yourself for all I care, but I won't let you kill me! This is a wild-goose chase.

Pike: You know I'm doing this for your own good. This is the only way to get to what we seek: the metallic hydrogen, and the only way to get you off Patra-Bannk. But look, I'll trade a bronze with you; first we'll look for Barbalan again. If we don't find her, we continue for…for one more day. If we don't sight Konndjlan today, we turn back.

Paddelack: Today? Do you mean a Patra-Bannk day?

Pike: Don't go nonlinear! Do you think I like putting up with your blatherings? Within the next six hours, or whatever the equivalent.

Paddelack: Long ago I forgot what an hour was.

Pike: I think there is a path less than ten meters above us,

Paddelack: We were right underneath it all the time! … I'll bet Barbalan went on ahead.

Pike: Curious that they should leave it open, wouldn't you say?

Paddelack: Hmm, … not so sure. They wouldn't have been expecting invaders now—if they ever do; the drawbridge is open, anyway, probably to keep the weight of the snow off it.

Pike: Perhaps you're right. … Now, how do we get across that gap?

Paddelack: The same way we did last time.

Pike: Thanks.

Pike: If Barbalan came this way, … then she walked very lightly—

Paddelack: —or the wind blew away her footprints.

Pike: Believe what you like.

Pike: Well, here we are, do you believe it?

Paddelack: Should have expected this, I supposed, … Can always blast it out if you're anxious.

Pike: Not very elegant, I'd say.

Paddelack: We haven't been elegant in anything we've done so far; why worry about it now?

Pike: One is elegant when the situation presents itself for an elegant solution.

Paddelack: And how do you know when that occasion arises?

Pike: Take this situation, for instance. It seems to me that an elegant solution will present itself shortly, so I shall just wait for it to come to me.

Paddelack: Good luck,

Pike: Hold on,

Paddelack: How did you know?

Pike: To quote an oft-repeated phrase by a well-known colleague: They're Gostum, aren't they? … Elegant enough for you? Try being a poet occasionally; it will do you good.

Pike: They really are concerned with security,

Paddelack: No, just insulation.

Fara-Ny: Let me admire your escape, … Such has rarely been accomplished.

Paddelack: He says he liked our escape,

Pike: At least he has good taste.

Paddelack: Has Barbalan returned here?

Fara-Ny: No, she has not, and it is well for her that she has not,

Pike: Tell him that we have come to give consideration to the Triesk matter.

Fara-Ny: We expected as much. Is he the Commander?

Paddelack: Yes.

Fara-Ny: Good. Let us then adjourn to warmer quarters where the fires are burning and our breath is invisible.

Fara-Ny: Suitable clothes will be brought for you here,

Paddelack: A splendid prison, didn't I tell you?

Pike: Much better than the Crimson for the Patra, and I think we might enjoy it this time, if we don't get claustrophobic.

Paddelack: Even better than Massarat, and I hope we know what we are getting into.

Pike: Look, … we want to get to Triesk. Staying here is better than staying on the Crimson or, as you said, Massarat. When the Patra is over, we'll fly up there for a few days and find out whatever it is that they want us to find out. … There may be nothing there that can be useful to the Gostum, but it is worth the winter here to satisfy their curiosity.

Paddelack: I've told you before not to underestimate the Gostum. I'm telling you that again right now. I don't know what is at Triesk; I don't know if anything is there at all. But I do know that the Gostum won't stop looking for it until Triesk is a heap of ashes.

Pike: Don't be nonsensical…

Fara-Ny: You will both stand here,

Paddelack: And you will translate as well,

Chapter Thirteen

Turn Back the Clock: A Girl Alone

Barbalan: I'm here with special orders to find the Alien who escaped. Do you have him? Was he recaptured?

short Gostum: No. I know little enough about it. Do you expect to find him out there? I thought you were a fugitive Trieskan, the way you were walking about. The cold is only for unruly prisoners.

Barbalan: That I know. Then I will have to stay here for the Patra until I can search for him at Bannk's beginning.

short Gostum: Then come in before you freeze us all.

Chapter Fourteen

Again Turn Back the Clock: The Night Begins

Stringer: Who's that? What's going on?

Tjenen woman: He is a Gostum spy. He was seen consorting with the missing Gostum during the Festival and is being exposed.

Stringer: What? I never heard about that. No one—

Taljen: Stringer.

Stringer: What?

Taljen: Have you decided where you are staying?

Stringer: With Alhane.

Taljen: We can live together if you wish. That is usually done between nestas.

Stringer: So that is what you had in mind for me. You're just going to let him die out there. If not me, you need another victim. Do you sacrifice an unwitting stooge to every Patra? A Gostum spy! That is the feeblest excuse for an execution I've ever heard of.

Barbalan: Name? … Never mind.

Stringer: Yes, I'm sure you haven't forgotten.

Taljen: Stringer…

Stringer: I'll think about it.

Stringer: I can't find anything wrong, … The trouble must be Above.

Alhane: After all the work we did! … I ask you, is that a just reward?

Stringer: What did you expect for a first try? We didn't have much time and there were bound to be problems. I say we go up. I remember which windmill I connected these to.

Alhane: This is probably the worst time to go up, between Bannk and Patra. You may never come back.

Alhane: Do you want light?

Stringer: And we've only been Under four beclads!

Stringer: Duck!

Stringer: Was that you, Alhane?

Alhane: No, what?

Stringer: Listen!

Tjenen exile: Help me!

Stringer: The exile! … Can you walk if I help you?

Alhane: What are you doing? … You can't help him. He is in exile.

Stringer: Do you expect me to leave him here?

Alhane: You can't take him Under. All of us would be thrown out for sure.

Stringer: Then I won't take him Under.

Alhane: What can you do? It is against all the rules.

Stringer: You are a hateful people who claim you don't know what it means not to cooperate. Well, that obviously applies only to the straight and narrow. Now, if you don't get out of my way, I'll knock you out of that door and you won't get back up again!

Stringer: Wait in here. I'll be back as soon as I can.

Stringer: Look, do you understand me?

Stringer: I don't have time to show you how everything works. … Here is the food. You open it like this—are you listening? … Look, I don't know if there is enough fuel left to keep the cabin warm throughout the Patra. Keep the temperature as low as you can to conserve fuel. Do it with this, see? The toilet is back there. Figure it out yourself. This tent here, … is an excellent insulator. Sleep in it if you have to. The cabin won't freeze unless the fuel runs out or you do something stupid, like open a door. See these jugs? Water. Melt snow if they run out, which means you will have to open a door. Then make sure this one is closed before you open the outer one. Do you understand? … You'd better understand. Good luck, exile, to both of us.

Stringer: …and have you ever considered going south?

Alhane: Many times. Patra-Bannk seems to be larger than I expected, and I imagine there is much to see.…But I'm getting too old for that sort of trip, I'll have to be truthful on that account. Still, you must take someone.

Stringer: I need all the glide ratio I can get. That may be the crucial factor on this trip. And there's no one here for whom it's worth sacrificing those extra kilometers except you—

Alhane: Impetuous Stringer!

Stringer: Otherwise it's me, my tent, and my rodoft—

Alhane: Take Taljen,

Stringer: Taljen and I haven't spoken in…in who knows how long? … None of your clocks seem to agree with any of the others, and there doesn't seem to be any other way of finding out. Who knows how long we've been cooped up here? You might as well take my watch for all the good it will do you. At least it runs constantly.

Stringer: How do you know that Taljen would even want to come?

Alhane: I don't know that she would. Certainly no one else would risk it—

Stringer: —but the Time Keeper.

Alhane: Do you think we would get along well enough together? I thought you would kill me that time we went Above.

Stringer: I think you're the only person I could get along with. No one else seems to want to have anything to do with me. I eat alone, sleep alone, work—

Alhane: That's mostly your own fault. Also, you have no nestrexa of your own, so you are not accepted.

Alhane: You have no nestrexa, either, from what I've heard.

Alhane: I never claimed that the Tjenens are totally happy with me, either, I'll not lie about that. To them—well, I have to say it, they think me a little odd. After all, they're right—and they always are. I grew up with a crazy father until he died and a crazy mother, too, for much longer, while, at the very least, any of them have had at least eight of each, sometimes more, occasionally less. So I am unusual in that sense.

Stringer: And brothers and sister?

Alhane: Many, very many. Too many to bother indexing.

Stringer: Wives? Or nestas?

Alhane: I alone had one only.

Stringer: Where is she? You never speak of her.

Alhane: I'm afraid she died last Patra. Sickness.

Stringer: I'm sorry,

Alhane: Not as much as I. I miss her a great deal sometimes. It is difficult to be a Time Keeper; you miss your nestas when they have gone.

Stringer: Why is it that only the Time Keeper has a permanent family?

Alhane: A total fluke, if the story is correct. After the revolt—well, after the revolt there was a long period of which we have only infrequent records. Sometime after that, or during—so the story goes, mind you—Ta-tjenen decided that it needed a Time Keeper. No one wanted to do it, so the post was decided by the outcome of a game of drisbit. You may have seen it being played on occasion—

Stringer: That's the game with the bones and the thread?

Stringer: But it's totally random—

Alhane: Exactly. So the winner—or loser, depending on your point of view—became Time Keeper. The next time around the Time Keeper was chosen the same way, and, by coincidence, it turned out to be the previous one's eldest daughter. On the third round, and I'll not tell you falsely here, the results were even more miraculous: the daughter's natural son was chosen. The Tjenens, wisely deciding that the gods were trying to tell them something, made the Time Keeper's position hereditary.

Stringer: So you must have a child.

Alhane: A son and a daughter. I train both, as is my duty. They do their best to make me out a fool. One or the other of them will make a better Time Keeper than I.

Stringer: Then why don't I see them?

Alhane: They are old enough—and glad enough, mind you—to be on their own, almost your age. You may run into them occasionally at our seminars. But they like their freedom for the short while they have it left. Soon, after I retire, one of them will take over.

Stringer: Good. Then we will build the glider for the two of us.

Alhane: Ah, Lashgar, where are you? … Gone, … and we dare not go outside to fix it, be the machine frozen or collapsed in the winds.

Stringer: Cheer up. What did you expect for a first try? And so far, all the others are working. Maybe we can tie into the other wires—

Alhane: And when the other windmills go?

Stringer: We'll worry about that when the time comes.

Alhane: That is not the way to survive on Patra-Bannk, Stringer. Remember that, because you'll have to.

Stringer: I'll remember. Now show me where you stored the materials.

Alhane: It would be wise to take a cloak; it will be chilly. … The oldest part of Ta-tjenen,

Stringer: Why didn't you tell me this before?

Alhane: And when has there been time for that?

Stringer: Polkraitz?

Alhane: Yes, … They've been sitting here since the first Golun, when the Polkraitz left.

Stringer: A funny thing to leave behind. … I'll be this is an ancestor of your own alphabet, … Why didn't they come back to get them? They said they would—

Alhane: —and this is the Golun-Patra. … I don't know, … Sometimes I wonder if the Polkraitz were the mighty rulers or enemies, as the Tjenens would like to believe.

Stringer: So do I. The stories Taljen told me just don't hang together. I can't say why exactly, they just don't.

Alhane: Now, Disillusioned Stringer, you can guess why I did not mention it to you for so long. We have known about these for ages.

Stringer: I didn't expect much, … The Junk?

Alhane: A good guess indeed. Left over with the ships by the Polkraitz. There's lots of it. We should be able to find useful parts here, control wire, for instance. My motto is: never throw out anything, even Junk. And I think there is quite enough room here to build a sailplane—

Stringer: And a good place to freeze to death,

Alhane: Would you rather build it Above?

Stringer: Maybe we should. You realize you've never told me how cold it actually gets out there. It may be a hoax for all I know.

Alhane: If you'd like to be quick-frozen, I can let you see for yourself. But as to how cold it gets, I should say I'm not sure. I never go Above myself during the Patra except at dawn, as I've mentioned. Indeed, to ponder it, dawn may be colder than midpatra, since by then it's been dark for so long that the air has had a longer time to clothe itself in night and cool off. But I should say again that I'm not sure. Once I left out a thermometer I had made during the Bannk that I could read from below, and it had no more sense than to crack. Then I built another, using a different liquid, and that coward retreated off the bottom of the scale, frozen solid. Then I tried another thermometer, using a gas. That was tricky, and my results aren't to be trusted—

Stringer: What were they?

Alhane: Below minus one hundred degrees centigrade. So, my Freezing Stringer, things aren't so bad under here.

Stringer: Sarek! It's positively boiling in this room! I'll be stripping down soon!

Chapter Fifteen

A Brief Glimpse Underground

Paddelack: I'm getting too old for this,

Effrulyn: The Commander seems to be enjoying himself. Such trivial pastimes. The mind rots.

Paddelack: And what do you do other than throw fixed Angles?

Effrulyn: I? … I am a mathematician. That is the reality.

Paddelack: Always imagined mathematics went out with the Polkraitz.

Effrulyn: Indeed it did, for a time. More recently there have been a few practitioners. I have improved upon them all.

Paddelack: Improved upon?

Effrulyn: Yes, I've long since mastered geometry. Now I have succeeded in finding the area under a curve with a new method of my own devising.

Paddelack: You've invented calculus? This I have to see.

Karrxlyn: Use two hands in all things. Remember that or you won't live long.

Karrxlyn: Enough of this for now. I believe it is time for your language lesson. Come with me, Commander.

Karrxlyn: Good! … But do not flinch. Smoothly, always smoothly. Now to your lesson.

Paddelack: So, … you really have invented calculus, as far as I can tell from this idiotic notation of yours. Have you done anything with your mathematical endeavors?

Effrulyn: Done anything with it? Mathematics is for itself. But… … I am afraid my objectivity compels me to confess to one impure act.

Paddelack: And what might that be? If, of course, you aren't afraid to talk about it.

Effrulyn: It's cold in here. … You understand that no one is aware of my involvement in this. If word gets around, I will end up doing nothing but impure applications. So silence is requested.

Paddelack: Absolutely.

Effrulyn: I was recently approached by one of the others, and he complained to me of the difficulty in keeping time. The clocks were so bad that the Checkers had just missed sunrise by more than a beclad. I told him that I was not interested in things of such nature—

Paddelack: Of course.

Effrulyn: Yes. … Then he told me he had noticed that a swinging weight seemed to swing with a constant period. He wondered if that fact could be used to build a better clock mechanism, but he had no way of knowing for sure. I am certain that he never had another idea in his life. He does very little other than build bad clocks. He asked me if I could demonstrate that the swing of a weight was truly constant. After incessant whining on his part, he finally persuaded me. I showed that it was approximately so. It was a fairly simple matter; I didn't even need my new mathematics. And you see the result: that monster in the great hall. Always clacking away—click, clack, click, clack—and disturbing my thoughts. A fitting reward for my labors. And what good is it? It may keep good time, but as all the other clocks were off to begin with, the fool had no way to set this one. After all, we had missed sunset. But everyone is very taken with it, even though it may be wrong. Not only that, the idiots don't seem to realize that even if it is the most accurate clock we have, there is no way of checking its accuracy. And they tell me it is the greatest advance in timekeeping since they decided to keep the teclad constant and vary the number of teclads in the Patra, instead of keeping the Patra a constant number of teclads and changing the length of the unit. … I ask you, what difference can it possibly make when the idiots have no idea of what they are doing in the first place? Toys, that's all that clocks are, toys. Let them play with their toys. Who cares what time it is when there is work to be done?

Pike: Good, I see you have arrived. Tell our respected hosts that I would be interested in having the secret of the Fairtalian explained to me.

Fara-Ny: Of course, Commander. Karrxlyn, show him how to open the pendant.

Pike: I am afraid you will have to explain this to me.

Fara-Ny: Certainly, … When you have learned to read better, you will see that you have directions to the nearest stala. The stala is the method we use to travel, which you were so curious about. I am afraid I cannot explain how it works other than to say that it does. One enters the stala and emerges—Elsewhere.

Pike: Elsewhere?

Fara-Ny: I have difficulty in describing even that. Where the Elsewheres are located is a matter of speculation, although we have identified a handful of them, notably Triesk, with the help of the old map. But as to most, be they north, south—or elsewhere, who can say?

Pike: How long have you known about them?

Fara-Ny: Some for belbannks, some only recently. More and more Elsewheres seem to become accessible to us as the Bannk's heat trails into memory. At most Elsewheres, however, the Fear is present, or an overly hostile environment, so we have severely limited our travel. It is odd, though, that most of the Elsewheres have been discovered since the visit of the earlier Polkraitz, Hendig. Suddenly many Elsewheres were available to us.

Paddelack: Hendig? … How did you know him?

Fara-Ny: We heard of him from the Liddlefurans. I have been told you were a companion of his.

Paddelack: Yes, I came with him.

Pike: Interesting, … I'd like to see this so-called stala.

Fara-Ny: I am afraid that is impossible,

Pike: The Patra is now too deep and the walk is too long. You will have to wait for the Bannk.

Pike: It seems that I will. … Well, … let's get on with the lesson!

Chapter Sixteen

The First Crack in the Sky

Taljen: Play your rodoft for us, Stringer, so we can dance.

Stringer: I have work to do.

Taljen: Then you would not be here now. Play your rodoft for us. Your work can wait.

Stringer: You don't want to hear me. I'm terrible.

Taljen: I've heard you play when I've passed your rooms. Your melodies are simple, yes, and you do not use all the notes, but in your own way you are better than our best. You have always learned quickly, Silent Stringer, learned everything quickly, except that there is no good in playing the rodoft if no one ever heard you.

Stringer: All right. Wait while I get it. … So you say I don't use all the notes, do you? We'll see about that.

Stringer: Everybody out! … Get out of this room!

Stringer: Get out of the corridor! … Seal it off!

Alhane: What happened, Stringer? Tell me what happened.

Stringer: It was an earthquake. The roof caved in.

Alhane: An earthquake? What is that? I have never heard of such a thing.

Stringer: I'll explain later. What can be done? I…I locked those people in there. I didn't know how cold…if they could have survived…

Alhane: Come on, stop that. There was so little hope. You did the only thing you could. Now let's get the quazzats.

Alhane: I've never gone out in midpatra,

Stringer: Are you crazy? We're going out in these things and you don't even know what is going to happen?

Alhane: I told you, no one ever goes out in the Patra—

Alhane: —but I have gone out at dawn on many occasion. And, as I've mentioned before, I suspect that it is as cold then as now. Besides, I've read the instructions my father left.…Now, Stringer, let us get on with it. Just remember to keep moving and breathe through your nose. The long hood will trap enough warm air to keep you from freezing your lungs.

Stringer: My hands, what about my hands?

Alhane: I'll give you some chemical heating pads if you want. But you shouldn't need them if you keep moving.

Alhane: What are you doing?

Stringer: Look.

Stringer: Alhane…Time Keeper.

Benjfold: What do you want, Returned? Did you cause this, too?

Stringer: Taljen, have you seen her?

Benjfold: I have a new nesta for this cycle, this Parlztlu; why would I know where Taljen is?

Taljen: …all of them. My child, Uslid, my first nesta…they were all killed.… … You, Alien Stringer, are the only one left.

Taljen: Will you go south with me? When the Bannk begins?

Taljen: There seems to be little reason for me to stay, does there?

Stringer: What happened? … You obviously didn't freeze to death.

Alhane: No, but your watch did, I thank it.

Stringer: What do you need it for, anyway?

Alhane: This last beclad I discovered that the stars move. I wanted to clock them with your watch, but it died, so now I can't.

Stringer: Why not?

Alhane: You've seen those clocks; how many read the same thing?

Alhane: I thought you were calibrating them against my watch.

Alhane: As well as I could, not having fully deduced the correspondence between your watch and my clocks.

Stringer: So now what's the problem? Why can't you use your clocks?

Alhane: Now your watch is dead. Now if I clock the stars, I get different answers depending on which clock I use. I ask you, is that a good state of the world?

Stringer: Why don't you take one reading with one clock and then another with the same?

Alhane: And when the interval differ in each trial?

Stringer: Surely your clock is wrong, then.

Alhane: Surely? Is it the first or second or third reading that is wrong—

Stringer: Your clocks must be good enough to be close on successive readings—

Alhane: —or is it the stars that are moving nonconstantly?

Stringer: Certainly the stars move as constantly as my watch.

Alhane: An assumption of faith, I thank you.

Stringer: No greater faith than assuming the same for my watch.

Alhane: Yes, Young Stringer, it is too bad that we have to assume anything. Why should I assume the stars move constantly? The sun doesn't climb at a constant rate. It hovers around Mid-Bannk and drops quickly toward the Patra. Is that constant?

Stringer: But surely the only reason the sun seems to move like that is because we're standing on the ground. The sun moves constantly.

Alhane: It does? I am not convinced. What I need is a reliably constant unit: your dead watch.

Stringer: I thought your units were nonconstant.

Alhane: Then I need a constant unit to know that my nonconstant units are changing correctly—if not constantly. Besides, as I once explained to you, it is only the telclads on up that are nonconstant. So we are back to the same discussion.

Stringer: Yes, I suppose we are.

Alhane: Don't you see my dilemma? To keep my clocks constant, I need a constant unit of time. If you are right and the stars, in some way yet to be deduced, move constantly, then I could use the time it takes for the stars to move such and such a distance. But in order to know how long it takes a star to move such and such a distance, I need a good clock—a constant unit of time.

Stringer: Can't you just say that it takes a certain amount of time for a star to move a degree, since we've decided to put our faith in its constancy?

Alhane: We have? But suppose it is wrong?

Stringer: What do you mean?

Alhane: What if I say it take a third of a given beclad for a star to move a degree, but it really doesn't. Then what?

Stringer: Well, I don't know. How do you check your clocks in the Bannk?

Alhane: The sun, of course. If I catch sunrise, I set the clocks then—that is, if I can decided exactly when sunrise is. Doing so takes so long. The problem is lack of sunrises. The time between sunset and sunrise is so long that all the clocks are off in between. I wish they came every beclad. How easy things would be then!

Stringer: If you had a star that was in a certain position at Mid-Patra, then you could set your clocks by it.

Alhane: How would I know when Mid-Patra was?

Stringer: By your clocks?

Alhane: You see the problem.

Stringer: I see that you've totally confused me.

Alhane: The only thing to do is to take my best clock—which is none too good—and start recording. Maybe after several Patras and some good guessing, I will know the answer.

Stringer: If it weren't for you, … no one would talk to me at all. I play my rodoft and people listen. No one says anything to me.

Taljen: Do you say anything to anyone? … How long was it that we did not speak to each other?

Stringer: About three teclads.

Taljen: I hadn't realized.

Stringer: And what were you doing all that time?

Taljen: Mostly working in the kitchen. Teaching a few classes. And yourself?

Stringer: The glider.

Taljen: You haven't shown it to me yet.

Stringer: No, I guess I haven't.

Taljen: Anything else?

Stringer: Playing my rodoft. There isn't much else to do. Sometimes I want to break down the walls here.

Alhane: I have found it! Stringer, I have found it! A bright star that moves faster than the others. Could it be another planet moving around Patra-Bannk, as you thought? Perhaps it is the one we need to check your gravity.

a Tjenen: What have you done to him, Alien?

Stringer: What did I do now?

Taljen: Nothing, … Stringer, tell me, do stars exist?

Stringer: What do you mean?

Taljen: Alhane's flecks of light. Do they exist? Or are they illusion?

Stringer: You haven't looked?

Taljen: Alhane had asked me to, but I am afraid to go Above, especially after what happened.…

Stringer: Well, yes, stars exist,

Taljen: What are they? Balls of ice, as Alhane thought?

Stringer: No, suns like your own but very far away, so they look like points of ice to the eye. My own sun is one of them.

Taljen: How far away?

Stringer: Very far away. Too far for anyone to conceive, really. Farther away than the horizon, farther than Glintz or Godrhan, farther away than the Edge of the World.

Taljen: And how do they burn? Are they made of wood? Of tree resin?

Stringer: No, they burn by nuclear reactions.

Taljen: And, Stringer, what is a nuclear reaction?

Stringer: It is…it is…it is a word that people use for stars, that's all. … Have I said something wrong?

Stringer: You know, Alhane should watch out; people have been burned for less.

Taljen: What do you mean?

Stringer: I mean that people don't like sacred doctrines to be contradicted. … Well, to those who burn.…

Taljen: You are bitter, … And you forget that to contradict a doctrine presupposes one already exists. But as stars were just discovered, their reality still largely unknown, I don't see how any belief could have been attached to them. … Perhaps, Stringer, Kenken Wer will concoct one just to contradict Alhane's findings, but I shouldn't worry about that too much. More likely, he will be allowed to study his flecks of light, allowed to play his games. No one will care, even if they do eventually believe that stars exist. After all, as Time Keeper, Alhane has been useful with his other discoveries. Unless this new game interferes with his old work, no one will mind his playing.

Stringer: Why do you call it a game?

Taljen: It is hard to conceive, Stringer, don't you think, what could come of this. Even if he does discover your gravity, what difference will it make to us here at Ta-tjenen? He will be able to write down an equation to tell us how gravity works, but it will be the same gravity which pulls us to the ground nonetheless.

Stringer: Yes. … I suppose it is hard to conceive.

Chapter Seventeen

Fire or Stars; Personalities vs. Universes

Pike: Get up! Paddelack, get up!

young Fairtalian: Commander, come this way!

Pike: Take her!

young Fairtalian: Hopefully you will be safe here, Commander,

Pike: Karrxlyn, is that you?

Karrxlyn: Commander, you should be in the emergency chamber.

Pike: What is wrong?

Karrxlyn: One of the exhaust shafts in the furnace room broke. Several of them, perhaps. It was an unforgivable mistake and we will all pay dearly for it. We are already letting in too much fresh air. You see, my feet are already numb. We do not have quazzats enough for more than a handful, so no one can go out. But I must go down again and see what can be done.

Pike: You may die.

Karrxlyn: One may always die. That is what life is all about.

Pike: I'm coming with you.

Karrxlyn: But, Commander—

Pike: Does a Commander huddle with the children? As you say, one may always die. That is how Gostum survive, isn't it? That is how we survive.

Pike: Use the drinking water!

Karrxlyn: But that is reserved!

Pike: There is nothing else! We'll melt snow and get more. Use it! … Karrxlyn! Can you block all the ventilators and exhaust ducts to this room? All of them?

Karrxlyn: How will we breathe?

Pike: We're not breathing now. Can you do it? Fires can't burn without air. Cut it off!

Karrxlyn: I will see what can be done.

Karrxlyn: We have done what you commanded. All the incoming shafts are blocked from above, and water is being poured down them as well.

Pike: Good.

Paddelack: Paddelack, … you once mentioned that you saw a steam engine in the shop downstairs.

Pike: Do you think you can do something with it? Convert it into a heating system? Something?

Paddelack: I'll see what I can do,

Paddelack: Where are you going so fast?

Effrulyn: To work,

Paddelack: Nowhere else? Nothing more important to do?

Effrulyn: What could be more important?

Paddelack: What I wanted to ask you: what do you know about the stala?

Effrulyn: No more or less than anyone else.

Paddelack: Ever use it?

Effrulyn: Of course not. Why should I bother with such a waste of time? But I have heard stories about it. Well do I remember one event.

Paddelack: What was that?

Effrulyn: There I was, sitting peacefully in thought, in the great hall where that monstrous clock of my own devising now stands. This was well before the time of the clock, you understand—

Paddelack: I understand.

Effrulyn: In comes running a guard who had just come from an Elsewhere, evidently a new Elsewhere, and ridden up from the stala. Fara-Ny, call the astronomers, he ordered—

Paddelack: Hold it. Tell me about the astronomers. Didn't think there were any around here.

Effrulyn: Madmen all. I'm not exactly sure when the first star was discovered, but it must have been a long time ago, probably during an emergency when someone was forced to go outside. From what I am told, the stars were a rage that first Patra and everybody went out—if only for a few clads—just to see what they looked like. Some started observation, but the next Patra nothing was the same. Almost all new stars. Why they expected them to be the same, only a metaphysician could tell you. So the astronomers got scared. Not only that, but several died from freezing. By this time they had decided that stars would only get them killed, and the fools had enough sense to get out of the cold. So astronomy has only had intermittent followers. Always they reach the conclusion that stars aren't good for anything—I could have told them that—and give up after a few teclads.

Paddelack: So what do they do?

Effrulyn: Mostly they are old men, too old to fight or to think, who sit around and make mindless speculations. They once asked me to join them, and I said I don't frame hypotheses. Anyway, where was I?

Paddelack: The stala.

Effrulyn: Ah, yes. The guard, who had so rudely disturbed the silence, explained agitatedly that when he and his party emerged at the Elsewhere, they had immediately noticed that the sun had moved. It was in the wrong place.

Effrulyn: The astronomers went into a great debate about this. I suspect that the problem had often been debated before. The Ex-tal school, the oldest of the old men, had long been convinced that the Elsewheres were not on Patra-Bannk at all, and this discovery went to prove it for them. The Al-tal school decided that the sun had moved of its own free will, but they were contradicted by the In-tal school, who had always claimed that the sun was just condensed vapor and couldn't do what it pleased. The In-tals wanted to know why, if the sun had moved at an Elsewhere, it hadn't moved here. This was heresy to the Al-tals, who answered that the sun had moved where it wanted simply because, at an Elsewhere, the sun could do whatever it pleased. Then the Ex-tal school jumped up again, saying that, of course, the answer was that the Elsewhere was completely off Patra-Bannk and that the sun was being viewed from a forbidden position and that travels to the Elsewheres must cease immediately. Then one of the In-tals had the temerity to suggest that maybe it wasn't even the sun that was being observed, but a duplicate traveling on the other side of heaven. This he conjectured as a compromise to the Ex-tals, who insisted that the Elsewheres were elsewhere. But the rest of the In-tals wouldn't have anything to do with this doctrine. The argument went on mindlessly for a long time.

Effrulyn: At the end, even though I was very young, someone asked me what I thought. I asked the guard whether he had gone north or south or east or west, but naturally the fool could only say elsewhere. Which way was the sun displaced? I asked him. To the east, he replied. Well, the answer was then clear to me. I said the world was bent in the east-west direction.

Effrulyn: You should have seen the uproar! … That is a dangerous thing to say, one of them told me. You idiots! I said to them. What do I care whether the world is flat or bent? That's for you quibblers to worry about. Does it make any difference to your lives? Of course it doesn't. It makes no difference whatsoever. You're just obscurantists, that's all. I say the world is shaped like a doughnut. They didn't understand the joke, of course, and I have been censured ever since.

Paddelack: What do you believe?

Effrulyn: Believe? I don't even think about it.

Paddelack: Why not?

Effrulyn: Don't you understand? … It becomes clearer to me all the time that reality is simply what people want to believe is real. No more, no less. Therefore, I content myself with obviously unreal things in order not to fall prey to those illusions that seem to occupy everyone else around here.

Paddelack: Hmm, … Do you have idea how far the stala goes?

Effrulyn: For all I know, it goes nowhere and these people are deluding themselves.

Paddelack: Do you have any idea how big this planet is?

Effrulyn: At least as far as the horizon, if I'm to be forced into metaphysical speculations.

Paddelack: And how far is that?

Effrulyn: Too far to walk. As far away as the sun.

Paddelack: What do you mean?

Effrulyn: What do you think I mean? The sun sinks at the horizon, so that's how far away it is.

Paddelack: Seems to me, … that if the world's bent, it might be bigger than that.

Effrulyn: All illusions!

Chapter Eighteen

Confronting the Past, Confronting the Present, Confronting the Future

Alhane: It's no use,

Stringer: What's no use?

Alhane: You say that I must observe the planets and chart their courses to figure out gravity. How can I chart the course of a planet if the sky changes so slowly? My star has disappeared, and who knows how long it will be before it returns—if it ever does?

Stringer: Alhane, Time Keeper, I see that you want to do everything yourself, discover the whole Universe. But that is too much for any one man, even you. At the rate that Patra-Bannk moves—

Alhane: Patra-Bannk doesn't move!

Stringer: At the rate the stars move, I'm sure that it would take you many Patras to piece together the entire sky, if you could do it at all. That, Time Keeper Who Is Impatient, is a life's work for any man.

Alhane: Then what can be done?

Stringer: Either you make that your life's work or you use the work of another.

Alhane: Who?

Stringer: You come from a long line of Time Keepers. I realize that the Patras are deep and no one goes out except in an emergency, but I find it hard to believe that you are the first to observe stars. Man's curiosity is deeper than the Patra. Didn't a Time Keeper of the past leave anything?

Alhane: You're right. My father must have. I just realized.

Stringer: What do you mean, you just realized?

Alhane: My father died after I had nine Bannks and ten Patras. I was there. The last thing he said to me was, I hope you can understand the stars.

Stringer: And just now you get around to it?

Alhane: I didn't remember it until now.

Stringer: I don't believe you could forget a thing like that.

Alhane: First of all, I didn't understand what he was talking about—

Stringer: Still, with your curiosity—

Alhane: You don't understand, Stringer. I think I hated my father. I must have intentionally ignored the advice for Patra-Bannks until I truly did forget about it. I am sure you have done the same at times.

Stringer: Perhaps. But hated your father? Then how did you become a Time Keeper at all?

Alhane: It isn't a matter of choice. I was brought up to it. By the time I had eleven Bannks and ten Patras, or maybe a little older, when I was old enough to choose, it was too late. I hated my parents for it—that is, until I discovered how to love the work for itself and divorce it from my mother and father. Some prospective Time Keepers do that and end up like me—for better or for worse. Others don't, like my younger brother, and don't become Time Keepers.

Stringer: You know, I think you are the first person in Ta-tjenen whom I've heard admit to really hating somebody.

Alhane: It could well be. A disease which seems peculiar to Time Keepers, unfortunately. … I think it is time to check my father's data.

Alhane: Listen to this! … Contained in these books are two dozen Patra-Bannks' worth of data that I have collected pertaining to the motion of the stars, in particular the one I call the Runaway. I have observed the stars with painstaking care long enough so that I am convinced that they repeat their positions in the manner shown herein. Assuming this repeatability at constant intervals, it follows that we should be able to use the positions of the stars to set our clocks, and indeed, I have done this for the last several Patra-Bannks, finding that I can predict sunrise with great accuracy without having to make many excursions Above immediately before the dawn. This should benefit all future timekeeping.

Alhane: Unbelievable! … The stars repeat their positions! What an amazing idea! To use the stars as clocks instead of clocking them! I thank you, Father! Look, he continues:

Alhane: I ardently hope that these heavenly motions, which seem to me most intervolved and beyond comprehension, may, in a future Patra, point the way to some understanding of Patra-Bannk's place in the Universe. I say this because repeated failure on my part to deduce the orbit of the Runaway around Patra-Bannk from these data may indicate that Patra-Bannk is not the Center of our cosmos. When my son is a little older, I will speak to him about carrying on the work, although at his present age he seems rather disinclined to the profession. Signed, Annel, Time Keeper after Arpen.

Alhane: Well, how about that? Thank you, Annel. Tell me truthfully, Stringer, did you know this was here?

Stringer: No, it was a reasonable guess, that's all.

Alhane: Well, I will have to check his data. I hope it is useful. Of course, he must be wrong about displacing Patra-Bannk from the Center.

Stringer: Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much.

Alhane: Why not?

Stringer: Once somebody told me—when I was much younger—

Alhane: You couldn't have been much younger or you would have been a baby.

Stringer: Merely a child. He told me that the Universe is collapsing on itself, that once everything was expanding and now it is collapsing, and that sooner or later everything will get very hot and we will all be crushed together in the center.

Alhane: Do you mean all those stars are falling on Patra-Bannk?

Stringer: Yes. And since that is going to happen and everyone will be killed, I don't see much point in worrying about things like that, because the worry will never amount to anything in the end.

Alhane: You don't strike me as the philosophical type, Stringer—if you strike me as anything at all. Tell me, does this bother you?

Stringer: No, but I thought it might bother you; that's why I brought it up.

Alhane: Hmm. Yes, you're right. Is there anything that can be done about it?

Stringer: Stopping the Universe from ending? Who could do that?

Alhane: Indeed, who could do that? Well, if everything is going to be destroyed, I'd say we'd better move all the faster for it.

Stringer: Right. And we do have a sailplane that wants finishing.

Alhane: Yes, yes, I'll be with you shortly.

Taljen: And this, My Stringer, is how we are going to get south?

Taljen: And what is that for?

Stringer: Polish to make the glider smooth. A rough surface will mean a disturbed airflow and kilometers lost. That isn't allowed.

Taljen: Can I help?

Stringer: Yes. Paint this on as smoothly as possible. Don't let it drip.

Taljen: Won't you stop that?

Stringer: Sorry, it's necessary. More kilometers.

Taljen: Did you ever figure out your gravity?

Stringer: Do you think a planet could be formed hollow? Sort of have a big cavity on the inside?

Taljen: I suppose so. The sky is hollow, so why not a planet?

Stringer: Why not? … Why not?

Kenken Wer: Sit down with me, Tall Taljen, … I am told you are going south with the Alien.

Taljen: Words cannot be kept boxed up in Ta-tjenen, that is certain.

Kenken Wer: Why are you going?

Taljen: I'm not sure, Kenken Wer, but it is clearly time to go.

Taljen: You've changed much, Taljen, much, I think, since the Alien came. It has been a long time since I have seen you dance. I have never seen anyone spend so much time with one nesta before. You used to mingle; everyone was so close to you.

Taljen: Is that unusual? Who is not close to anyone here?

Kenken Wer: You are not happy because of the Alien. We can get another nesta for you if you wish. Staying with the Alien is perverse. Do you realize he committed the first murder here since the revolt? How can you wish to stay with such a…an Alien?

Taljen: How can I wish to be with anyone? One is as good as another here, all good, all bad, even Stringer. He will do for now, as all nesta.

Kenken Wer: How will a murderer and a Polkraitz do? … Why do you want to pollute yourself with his presence?

Taljen: Because I think he may know something about the world that Ta-tjenen may not know.

Kenken Wer: What can he know that is not self-evident?

Taljen: He says that Patra-Bannk is round, like a ball, that he understands how gravity works—

Kenken Wer: What nonsense! Do you believe him, Taljen?

Taljen: Not yet, but Alhane does.

Kenken Wer: Alhane! Half the cause of all this! Do you believe him, that old Time Keeper?

Alhane: She never has, … but she will go and see.

Kenken Wer: See what? … Do you want to see her swallowed up by the collector of winds? Or falling off the Edge of the World?

Alhane: There is no Edge of the World, I am convinced. My experiments, I thank them, show—

Kenken Wer: Your experiments! Have we not picked enough holes in them? Look around you, Alhane! Is it not clear that the world is flat? Where do the winds go if not collected when they get south?

Alhane: I don't know, … A new mechanism will have to be devised.

Taljen: It is unlikely, Alhane, old Teacher, … You will have to explain many things, including Stringer's gravity.

Alhane: If it is right, mind you.

Taljen: It is better than yours, and the discrepancy with what we feel is easily explained if the world is flat.

Alhane: But—but my data indicates that the world is round and that new mechanisms will have to be devised—

Kenken Wer: Your data again. Next you will be telling us, Time Keeper, that Ta-tjenen is not the Center.

Alhane: If that is the case, then I will say that—

Taljen: Alhane, that is very hard to believe.

Kenken Wer: I have seen your data when you presented it to the nestrexam. Do you think us unintelligent fools? You and your minute shadows. What can they say? Look around you. All is flat; Ta-tjenen is all there is in the world, other than Glintz and Godrhan. You look north, south, east, or west, and but for the hills, the distance looks the same. It follows that we are central. And has anyone ever sailed around? No. But if the world was as you say, one could sail around—

Alhane: But—

Kenken Wer: Your problem is simple, Time Keeper Alhane: you do not know how to see with your eyes.

Alhane: And your problem, Kenken Wer Who Stands at the Center, is that you do not know how to see with your imagination!

Kenken Wer: I should hope not. Imagination is for your dreams, Alhane; we are talking about reality.

Alhane: Reality is not determined by referendum—

Kenken Wer: —nor by wishful thinking on the part of one man. I won't let you send Taljen off with that Alien to be swallowed up with the winds or fall off the Edge of the World.

Taljen: I will go,

Kenken Wer: Then you believe Alhane?

Taljen: No, I hope he is wrong.

Kenken Wer: Then you want to die past Godrhan, disappearing off the face of the world?

Taljen: No, whoever heard of anyone wanting to die?

Kenken Wer: Then why are you going?

Taljen: Because things aren't the same any more, because I must find out.

Taljen: Stringer—

Taljen: Stringer, I've never seen you like this. What is it?

Taljen: What is it?

Stringer: I was having trouble sleeping. The gravity was bothering me. I don't know…I was having nightmares.

Taljen: Can you tell me what it was?

Stringer: I can't really remember. It was horrifying. Almost like someone deep inside my brain trying to tell me something. Sometimes my dreams are so real, it is almost as if someone else were trying to talk to me.…

Taljen: Does this happen often?

Stringer: Off and on, for as long as I can remember. When something is bothering me, I can never sleep. Sometimes, like now, it is horrible because…because I don't have control. Do you understand?

Stringer: Put a kalan in my hand and…and suddenly I have an almost conscious control over my entire self. Put me to sleep and I am knocked around in my dreams as if I am their puppet: torn, murdered, ripped in half, put back together again. I hate to sleep; there is no control. But there is something in sleep. I am sure that I do most of my thinking in dreams. Often, when I awake, I have the solution to what's been bothering me. Not this time. If only I could use dreams the way I use my kalan…

Chapter Nineteen

Trapped by a Planet and a Friend

Pike: Don't worry, … I didn't poison it.

Pike: There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,

Paddelack: Tell me, what's that?

Pike: It has been suggested that you move into your own quarters.

Paddelack: Why? No, don't tell me. They think we're having an affair.

Pike: But, after all, I am Commander, am I not? … Yes, I am Commander, am I not?

Paddelack: I'll tell you this, Pike, … Fooling the Gostum into thinking you're Polkraitz is fine with me and may have its uses. But be careful about fooling yourself.

Pike: This is the Golun-Patra, … and we have done some amazing things, wouldn't you agree?

Paddelack: I'll agree that theorizing by coincidences will get you into a lot of trouble.

Pike: When the coincidences become large in number, one begins to wonder, doesn't one?

Paddelack: One begins to become a fanatic,

Paddelack: Curse you!

Pike: Now, … I plan on using the stala to do some investigating of my own and see if anything can be discovered. I have promised to help you, and the stala will make things easier in that regard.

Fara-Ny: But the Fear, Commander. Only certain Elsewheres are open to us because the Fear is absent.

Pike: Yes, I know. I will be careful. … Now, … your sources indicate that Triesk is a large city, something over ten thousand. Which means we will need help from others…Ah, Paddelack. Sit down. Tell us, do you think the Liddlefurans will come to our aid?

Paddelack: Aid? For what?

Pike: In case we should need them against Triesk.

Paddelack: Why should we?

Pike: Reconnaissance shows that Triesk has many more inhabitants than Konndjlan. Therefore we will need reinforcements. Perhaps even more than Massarat can provide.

Paddelack: Hold on here. Why do we need reinforcements at all?

Pike: If we have to mount a siege, it will not be easy.

Paddelack: Siege! Sarek, who said anything about a siege? You said we would go up there and take a look and see what was there and help these Gostum find what they wanted. A siege?

Pike: Calm down, Paddy, my friend. The Gostum have already asked the Trieskans for help but can't even get negotiations started. We must issue a final ultimatum, but, of course, we must be prepared for the eventuality that it will be refused. No decision has yet been made—

Paddelack: My eye, no decision had yet been made! I knew something like this was going to happen. Do you see what you've gotten into?

Pike: Remember, we have promised to help the Gostum. We must be good to our word. Everyone must be taken away from Patra-Bannk. To stay on a world like this is perpetual madness. Don't you see what we are trying to do? We are simply trying to help, and they need my leadership. Isn't that clear even to you?

Paddelack: No! I won't have anything to do with it. Be Commander for all I care. I'm going back to Massarat.

Pike: No, … Let him go. He'll be back. After all, he's a suicide case, anyway. … Just inform Massarat of our desire to be honored by their assistance.

Chapter Twenty

Daybreak in the North: The Journey Begins

Stringer: There it is! … There it is! … Come on! … Do something!

Taljen: Will you help with the repairs?

Stringer: I have work of my own to do.

Taljen: Stringer, you can do nothing quite yet. Help with the repairs. You are in Ta-tjenen still, and at Bannk's beginning everyone helps with the repairs. Everyone. And do not be anxious. This is not a Bannk to look forward to, especially in our solofar.

Stringer: All right.

Stringer: How are we going to get it outside?

Alhane: The door, obviously. Look here, Stringer.

Alhane: Do you want to try it, Stringer? It is still very windy.

Stringer: It will always be very windy!

Stringer: Up! Up! … Take me up!

Alhane: You did it!

Taljen: How was it?

Stringer: Rough wind. But it flew and that's good. We have to make some adjustments yet. And with you in it.

Stringer: Well, good luck to us,

Benjfold: I'll bet you are glad to see him off, Time Keeper,

Alhane: Glad? I don't know, even if you do. The Alien asked interesting questions, which no one else here asks. But he was troublesome, even I will admit to that.

Benjfold: Troublesome! I hope this insane trip kills him for his gift of troubles!

Alhane: Not a child's punishment, this trip, whether the sun acts benevolently or not.

Benjfold: Does he deserve a child's punishment? After killing the girl—

Alhane: You speak strangely, Benjfold.

Benjfold: Is it any wonder? The Alien has done this to all of us. He tried to kill me, you remember—

Alhane: —and even myself.

Benjfold: You?

Alhane: Yes, … It was near the end of the Bannk when we found the exile Above. Stringer helped him by sheltering him in the shuttle—

Benjfold: Are you telling the truth?

Alhane: I have no reason not to.

Benjfold: Then he must be stopped now! Immediately! He is Polkraitz in league with the Gostum and must be stopped!

Alhane: But—

Alhane: Stringer, you must go now! Go! Hurry! Don't wait or you'll be killed. The found out about the exile. It was my fault. Go! Go! Don't wait for the sun!

Alhane: Remember to keep a record for me, Stringer!

Alhane: Rise, Bidrift, rise!

Stringer: Up, Nothing! Sarek, get up!

Taljen: You have two things to explain to me, Stringer, … One is what that was all about, and the other is how to fly this bird.

Stringer: I helped the man who was left Above for the Patra. They just found out.

Taljen: You didn't,

Stringer: How does it feel to be cooped up with a Polkraitz traitor?

Taljen: Teach me to operate this bird.

Stringer: Yes, Ta-tjenen is behind us now.

Chapter Twenty-One

Daybreak in the South: Other Journeys Begin

Gostum astronomer: I think that might be it.

Pike: What was that?

Gostum astronomer: I said, I think that might be it.

Effrulyn: You're not sure?

Gostum astronomer: It might just be a diffraction off the desert.…Now, is that it? No, maybe now…

Effrulyn: Oh, come on. Pick a time.

Pike, Effrulyn, Fara-Ny, and Karrxlyn together: Yes, there it is!

Gostum astronomer: Yes, I guess so. … Sunrise!

Gostum: The clocks are set!

Effrulyn: How much was the new clock off?

Gostum astronomer: What was the error?

Gostum: Quarter of a beclad plus quarter of a telclad!

Gostum astronomer: Not good,

Effrulyn: But, … by how much is the old master clock in error?

Gostum: A full beclad plus a telclad.

Effrulyn: So let us look at these records. … Here is where the final adjustments were made and the new clock set to the old, about a quarter of the way into the Patra. Now we see a progressive discrepancy between the old clock and the new as the Patra wears on. The discrepancy seems more or less linear, so let us assume that the old one was off by a quarter of a beclad when the final set on the new one was made. That means the remaining quarter of a telclad is the error in the new. Not bad, I'd say. But then this whole discussion is meaningless because it assumes that the sun tells some metaphysical absolute time, and I see little justification for putting so much confidence in the physical world. So you astronomers and clockmakers can do as you will.

Paddelack: You think I like this, animal? … Your fur should keep you warm! Bah!

Liddlefuran gatekeeper: Paddelack! … We never expected to see you again! We thought you'd found the Edge or the Bucket of Winds.

Paddelack: Well, I'm back. Don't just stand there, let me in! Or I'll give you a fustigation that you'll never forget!

Liddlefuran gatekeeper: Paddelack, Returned, you look pretty much as you were.

Paddelack: What did you expect, that I'd turned into a Gostum? Well, come on, get me something hot to drink—scalding, mind you. I'm more dead than alive at the moment…One thing more: get the nestrexam together.

Paddelack: Soon, … the Gostum will be arriving at our gate. They will try to enlist you in a war they are planning against Triesk—

Liddlefuran: Triesk?

Paddelack: Certainly you have heard of Triesk, the ancient Polkraitz city of the north.

Liddlefuran: Ah, yes. It is far away, isn't it? Too far away to have a war against.

Paddelack: No, … The Gostum not only have a way of getting there but have the help of the Alien, Pike.

Vardyen: The same Polkraitz is Returned on the Golun-Patra? The same who cleared the path and escaped the Gostum fortress and visited the forbidden city across the ocean?

Paddelack: The same,

Vardyen: Hmm, a man worth heeding, one would think, Paddelack. He is our friend.

Paddelack: No. You cannot help him in this war.

Vardyen: I think you have not told us the cause.

Paddelack: The Gostum think there are rockets at Triesk to take us all from Patra-Bannk, and they believe that Pike will show us how to use them.

Vardyen: If Pike is giving his aid in their quest, then he must believe them.

Paddelack: But there is no definite proof, just some spy's word. You will all be killed. It is pointless, senseless, don't you understand?

Vardyen: And what happens when the Gostum come knocking at our door? What do you expect us to do, then? To fight with them or against them, Paddelack Wise One, we are dead either way.

Paddelack: I have a hunch. Let us reconvene after I've checked it out. Do you agree? … Come on, Mith, … Let's see what we can find.

Paddelack: Someone worked very hard to get through this, … I'm going down. Get me a long rope, Mith.

Paddelack: Get me some paint!

Paddelack: Something is down there, … And it's mighty big. Maybe that's where all the people are.

Karrxlyn: Commander, … we have been to Massarat to request aid from the Liddlefurans, but they refuse to come out of hiding. What should be done?

Pike: Wait for them.

Karrxlyn: In the wind and cold?

Pike: Do it! We will starve them out. No need to use force. In the meantime, I want to go to Triesk to deliver an ultimatum.

Karrxlyn: Do you think it is a good idea? Triesk is a dangerous place for Gostum. Wait at least until we hear from the spy, a Trieskan who is to meet one of our men within the beclad.

Pike: All right. Has word been passed to the north to begin the search for new recruits?

Karrxlyn: It is being done now.

Pike: Good. Send out parties from Pant, Sect, all the other places. Do it quickly before the Bannk gets hot. We'll need everybody we can get. Now, I want to see the stala myself, as soon as possible.

Pike: You will not desert us, Commander, I trust.

Pike: Never doubt me, or you will regret it. Your cause is mine. I will save the Gostum from Patra-Bannk, get the ships, and teach you how to use them. I am Commander, am I not? Yes, I am Commander. However, I do want to see the stala. I have my own work to do.

Karrxlyn: Good. Then I suggest you wait out the beclad; the winds will have quieted a bit and the trip will be slightly easier. Effrulyn can take you. He does little enough around here.

Effrulyn: Because of the Polkraitz chart, many believe the lower point is Konndjlan and the upper is Triesk, and that of Pant in between. I am skeptical.

Pike: How come you are skeptical?

Effrulyn: One sees a point, one presses a bar, one emerges elsewhere. The identification of the Elsewhere is nontrivial. Does it correspond to a dot? How does one know? How does one know whether he is north or south or east or west? By the sun only, if one chooses to believe the world is bent. I can tell you which bar to press to get to Triesk; that one is right here, but as to exactly which dot represents Triesk, if any, that is another story. Again, because of the old chart, Triesk is a well-behaved case; others are singularly pathological.

Effrulyn: I take it you have been warned against going to Triesk.

Pike: Yes, I won't, … But must go elsewhere…to a place called Neberdjer.

Effrulyn: I know of no such place.

Pike: This bar, here.

Effrulyn: Are you certain?

Pike: Yes. The word is in my head. I don't know why. I think the secret of the metallic hydrogen may be there. I must go and see.

Effrulyn: The Fear is present at most of these Elsewheres, that one in particular. We never go there under any circumstances.

Pike: There aren't many places to go from here.

Effrulyn: And I have been told that most of these bars do nothing at all.

Pike: Well, then, the choice is clear. … Will you come?

Effrulyn: I have more important things to do. If you will excuse me, I must get back to my lucubrations.

Pike: Then I will go alone. Get me my pack.

Pike: I will be back within several beclads at the latest. Until then, I hope your lucubrations prove fruitful…

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Road to Cathay

Glintz man: Do you mean you came all the way from Ta-tjenen in that solofar?

Stringer: Yes, we did, and will go much farther still.

Glintz man: How long did it take?

Stringer: A third of a beclad, perhaps. I'm not sure.

Glintz man 2: Surely that is a thief's tale,

Glintz man 3: We should build one ourselves and go to Ta-tjenen.

Glintz man 4: Who wants to go to Ta-tjenen?

Fent: Come. You two can sleep in my house and rest.

Fent: My grandfather lived here and painted those. He was also a great collector of books.

Stringer: You know who your grandfather was and that he lived in this house?

Fent: Ah, you are from Ta-tjenen, that is right, even though you haven't enough fingers and your speech is spastic. Glintz was founded by those who didn't like the Parlztluzan and thus left Ta-tjenen. We have never used that system. And, as a result, you see that Glintz is much smaller than Ta-tjenen, or so I've been told. Of course, brief conjugal visits are sometimes necessary.

Stringer: What is your name?

Fent: Fent. Fent of Glintz, you can call me.

Stringer: All right, I will.

Stringer: I'm glad you aren't angry at me any more.

Taljen: I think part of me was trying to kill you.

Stringer: I can offer you little in return for your hospitality other than a tune on my rodoft.

Fent: An excellent exchange!

Fent: You are a master! But your tunes are not those of Ta-tjenen.

Stringer: I am not of Ta-tjenen, so my tunes are different.

Fent: That you are not from Ta-tjenen is clear. Where are you from?

Stringer: I'm not sure myself any more,

Fent: Don't worry, … As the Bannk wears on, we put the white sheet out. But a dreary white city is not a crumb snatcher's price to pay to lower the temperature a handful of degrees.

Stringer: You're right, … I hope to see you again,

Fent: Yes, we will see each other, Stringer Who Is from Ta-tjenen but Not.

Stringer: Always keep an eye on the clouds, … They are our only markers for finding rising air. And watch the hills. We'll ride the air currents over the hills. We need all the help we can get. … Tell me, Glintz does not have the Parlztluzan; why do you have it?

Taljen: Or why don't they have it?

Stringer: Taljen, I'd be interested to know either way. The Changing of Houses is the strangest thing I've ever heard of.

Stringer: You don't have it, either?

Stringer: Of course not. … But if you know the reason for its existence, I'd like you to tell me.

Taljen: I am told that it was organized after the war against the Gostum when the Polkraitz left. The population was decimated, and this would help restore it. Those who disagreed went to Glintz. You see that Glintz is much smaller than Ta-tjenen.

Stringer: I don't see what difference it can make whether or not you rotate mates, as far as the number of children produced.

Taljen: All right, then, I will explain it to you as if you were a child. You know that Ta-tjenen runs on clocks—

Stringer: —or ignores them.

Taljen: Everything runs on clocks, not necessarily mechanical. Everything has its own cycle. Some cycles are long, like the fertility cycles of males and females. In order to produce children, both clocks must be on, both cycles must be matched. That does not happen very often if mates are not switched. The clocks must be synchronized at the Parlztluzan.

Stringer: Men have breeding cycle?

Taljen: Of course. Don't you?

Taljen: We are always on.

Taljen: So, you see, … after a war a Parlztluzan is a good thing to institute.

Stringer: Is it a good thing to keep?

Taljen: With the mortality rate at Ta-tjenen?

Stringer: Glintz does without it.

Taljen: And, Stringer, judging from the way you act, I wonder if your society should institute it.

Stringer: Perhaps.

Taljen: That's Alhane's!

Godrhan woman: Did I hear someone mention Alhane? … Did you say the name of Alhane?

Taljen: Yes,

Godrhan woman: Your accent is strange. From Ta-tjenen?

Taljen: You are right. … And I know Alhane well.

Godrhan woman: Then you must come out of the sun and talk. Did Alhane arrive safely back in Ta-tjenen?

Taljen: Quite safe; I am sure he would thank you.

Godrhan woman: And did he prove what he set out to prove?

Taljen: He thinks he did; others aren't so sure.

Godrhan woman: That would be strange indeed. I'm told by our scientists that, if true, Godrhan would be displaced from the Center.

Taljen: How can Godrhan be the Center if Ta-tjenen is?

Godrhan woman: The reason Godrhan was founded was because the founders decided that Ta-tjenen was not the Center after all and that the Tjenens were mistaken to think so.

Taljen: But Ta-tjenen means The Rising at the Center.

Godrhan woman: Words!

Taljen: I am not sure who is correct, but someone must be wrong.

Stringer: We have been traveling a long time without a sleep. Do you have any food you could offer us and a place to hide from the sun?

Godrhan woman: Of course, … Come with me.

Stringer: The next town is far,

Taljen: farther than we have come already. My map says about four thousand kilometers. And we must get there. Are you well rested?

Stringer: What have you got there?

Taljen: Nothing for your eyes.

Stringer: Come on, … What have we here?

Taljen: I'm scared.

Stringer: Look at my map, … We will see who is right, I think. If you die, remember, I am only in the next seat and will join you shortly.

Taljen: Okay,

Stringer: Okay.

Stringer: So, you see, … your map is wrong and we have not been collected with the winds, nor have we fallen off the Edge of the World.

Taljen: It seems that you may be right, Stringer, … If the world has an edge, it is not here. Patra-Bannk looks to be larger than I expected. … Are you satisfied?

Stringer: Me? What good does it do me? Perhaps you now see that Ta-tjenen may not be the Center.

Taljen: Perhaps.

Stringer: I think you have a pretty planet,

Taljen: No Tjenen would ever agree to that, my Alien.

Stringer: That's because you've never had a chance to enjoy it. If you could, then you would realize it is very pretty and unspoiled compared with mine.

Taljen: What is your planet like?

Stringer: Small, infinitesimally small compared with this one. My planet would disappear if it were spread out on this one. And it's mostly people. It's very crowded, so not one gets too upset if anyone is killed in a fight—big or little. There are lots of fights; there are no nestrexas. Like Alhane, everyone grows up with a permanent family. Sometimes there is a big war or famine and the population goes down a little. Then it goes up again, then down again. I think sooner or later something will have to give. We colonized a few sister worlds in our solar system but that didn't help much. They're as crowded as Two-Bit now. Then we built ships like the one that brought us here. Everyone is so eager to have them that the government spends a lot of time trying to make sure they're used right. But the government is a flop. I'm not sure why the ships were built at all, or why there is such a big fuss about them. They're so expensive that only the biggest businesses can afford them. They can't bring back much. They can't carry many people. The few colonies that they've established on nearby planets are small. It's too expensive to bring back what little they make and soon, I guess, those worlds will be crowded too. Maybe now that we're discovered Patra-Bannk everyone will come here. That will solve the problem.

Taljen: There is a lot to it, I see.

Stringer: Yes, twenty-five hundred Two-Bits' worth, at least. I wish the scenery would change a little though. You'd think we've gone nowhere instead of more than twelve thousand kilometers, two continents' worth of distance.

Taljen: You may have your wish soon. Look ahead.

Taljen: And what of you, Stringer? … You have told me of your world but have never said anything of your own life.

Stringer: What is a life? I don't know.…Jumbled memories of people and places best left forgotten. Jumbled fragments of might-have-beens and whiffs of dreams destroyed. There are too many dark corners, occasionally illuminated by a stranger who, for a time, becomes a friend, until random events, trapdoors, yank you down different corridors of the maze. It is a maze of dead ends and broken paths where each event, each turning point, is like the murder of an unborn self, until you are finally left with but one path to follow and have become what you were never meant to be.

Taljen: You've never said anything like that before.

Stringer: It is difficult to always sound like yourself, … I wouldn't hold your breath for more. My life is just a life, nothing else.

villager: Why are you here?

Taljen: We must travel south,

villager: We have been asked to go south, too. Something is up, but I am not sure what it is all about. And tell me, where do you come from?

Taljen: Ta-tjenen,

villager: I have never heard of it,

Chapter Twenty-Three

So Near and Yet So Far

Neberdjer: Tell me, what is it like to die? Please answer. I see you are concerned with death. I want it explained to me.

Pike: Who are you? … What have you been doing to me?

Neberdjer: I am Neberdjer. I have been trying to talk to you.

Pike: What do you want with me? Why am I being held here?

Neberdjer: I have been trying to talk to you.

Pike: You have been trying to kill me.

Neberdjer: I don't understand what that means. Do you mean I have been trying to terminate your life functions?

Pike: Yes.

Neberdjer: No, … That isn't true at all. I need your help. Recently I have become conscious, aware that I exist. Previously I may have been thinking but was not conscious of it. A difficult concept. I am not sure. More recently I have discovered the existence of Aliens. I need your help. Therefore, I have been trying to communicate with you. It is difficult. The concept of someone else is even more difficult than the concept of self, but once that is understood, the possibility of communication follows immediately. To construct the sentence I am Neberdjer was one of the most taxing sentences of my life. Previously I and Neberdjer were one, indistinguishable in meaning. The discovery of an independent being necessitated proposing a not-Neberdjer, a not-I: a you. Assuming the yous are independently aware of their own existence, or at least quasi-independent, the I-equals-Neberdjer equality is not universal. Neberdjer is discovered not to be the only I: a new word is needed to place in opposition to I: you. And a word is needed to place in opposition to you: I in your language. I will use that. I am Neberdjer. You are not Neberdjer. The entire experience raises the question of whether the concept of self can truly evolve without the concept of others.

Neberdjer: You call yourself humans, correct? You humans are difficult to talk to. Of course, I say that relatively speaking, as I have rarely talked to anyone before. Why do you think I am trying to hurt you?

Pike: You are hurting me!

Neberdjer: Hurt? The meaning I have learned from you connotes nothing to me.

Pike: I cannot move, I cannot function, I hurt. Surely you must see that.

Neberdjer: You, Pike, have been a big problem. When I first met you, you did not speak Barbalan's language, which I had so painstakingly learned, so I could not speak to you in the simple manner I had developed with her. But I needed to get a message to you. At best, it has been tedious to have to follow individual nerve impulses, trace synaptic connections, and manipulate the fundamental chemical and physical reactions that produce words and phrases in your mind. All this I endured for a time with Barbalan, until I learned to speak with her. Then you came along. Not only were you ignorant of her language—forcing me to repeat the entire process—but you insisted on running away, so I was obliged to do it in a hurry, using an extra large portion of my resources, perhaps a millionth of one percent. The results are clearly dubious. Now I have been trying to learn your native language more systematically because it has a larger vocabulary than the Gostum language. And, in addition, I still seem to be causing you pain. I will reduce the energy levels. Would you like some food?

Pike: You will let me go! I am the Polkraitz Returned. I am Commander of the Gostum forces and I demand that you let me go!

Neberdjer: I need your help; I have told you that already. The stability control mechanism—

Pike: What?

Neberdjer: Is that not why you have come?

Pike: No. I have come for the metallic-hydrogen manufacturing facility.

Neberdjer: That is of no importance.

Pike: It is!

Neberdjer: The stability control, the centering—

Pike: The hydrogen, … Show me the facility, and I will help you.

Neberdjer: No, … I can't.

Pike: Why not?

Neberdjer: After probing your memories, I do not think you will like the experience. In fact, you won't survive if you go through with it. I see you are afraid of death, the termination of life functions—a strange concept. I have determined from your physical makeup that you would not survive the trip to the facility. If you would like me to kill you by taking you there, I would be willing to do so without hesitation, except for the fact that you would not then—if I understand your death correctly—be available for the repair of the stability control mechanism. Therefore, I cannot take you to the facility. The reasoning is clear.

Pike: So you lied to me. You probably don't even know where the facility is. I've had enough of this.

Neberdjer: Where are you going? I need you.

Pike: You have lied to me and have tried to kill me! You have tried to prevent me from getting the secret! I will invade Triesk and find it there. I don't need you!

Neberdjer: Triesk? Why are you invading Triesk?

Pike: This is the Golun-Patra and I must have the secret of Triesk. I am in Command, the Polkraitz Returned.

Neberdjer: I did not know that the Polkraitz were back. That is interesting.

Pike: I'll see to you yet, Neberdjer! … You will pay for this! I will not leave Patra-Bannk a failure. Then you will pay. Wait and see!

Pike: Give me a report,

Gostum guard: The new recruits are arriving by bits and pieces. You can see some ahead now. We are housing them on the plateau at Massarat because the Liddlefurans have still not come out of hiding.

Pike: How long have I been gone?

Gostum guard: The better part of a teclad, Commander. We were about to give you up for lost.

Pike: So was I. Give me some water. … What about the ultimatum to Triesk?

Gostum guard: Refused, I have been told. The spy confirms the rocket reports.

Pike: Indeed. … We will go to Triesk. Neberdjer will see that the Polkraitz cannot be stopped.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Two Epiphanies

villager 2: So you too are going south, … I may go myself.

Taljen: Why is everyone going south?

villager 2: I see that you dialect is very strange, even stranger than that of the last people I saw who said they had come up from the south to get us. Something is afoot.

Stringer: Can't you tell us what it is?

villager 2: There are rumors. No one is saying for sure, but it has been rumored that the Polkraitz are Returned and are readying to take us off this planet, as they so promised ages ago. The way south is magic and takes us beyond the World's Edge. Who knows what is going on? But if it will get us out of the sun, it's worth finding out.

Taljen: Stringer, did you have something to do with this?

Stringer: If I have been at Ta-tjenen or with you all the time, how could I have had anything to do with this?

Taljen: Polkraitz can do many things, I suspect.

Stringer: When will you believe me, Taljen? When?

Taljen: Every time I start to trust you, my Stringer, you do something to make me doubt you. The arrival with your dead companion, the murder at the Festival, the exile. Now this. What am I to believe?

Stringer: Yes, you're absolutely right. My companions and I are Polkraitz. We are Returned to take over Patra-Bannk. You are my first hostage and will be intermediary between us and the Tjenen slaves.

Stringer: You have only three grask in the entire village?

villager: Yes, that is the case, truly.

Taljen: That will have to do, don't you think?

Stringer: Yes, it will. … Can you bring them to the beach? We're about three or four kilometers away.

villager: Except to fish, I never go that far myself, especially this Bannk.

Stringer: We have to launch our sailplane—

villager: What?

Stringer: How can I explain unless you come to the beach?

villager: All right, we'll come.

village woman: Why can't it fly away by itself?

Stringer: It needs your help to get it off the ground, … We will sit in it. Your grask must pull.

village woman 2: Does it let you sit in it without squawking?

village woman 3: When a solofar squawks, the air shrieks for all around,

Stringer: Faster!

Taljen: You'd better let me explain,

Stringer: Can you imagine, … that I couldn't even convince them that this bird was artificial?

Taljen: Did you expect to?

Stringer: What do you mean?

Taljen: Is it truly that hard for you to see? This sailplane is big like a solofar, is painted like a solofar; from a distance it could be a solofar, so to those villagers it is a solofar.

Stringer: It doesn't look like a real bird to me.

Taljen: It did to me when I first saw it. But we are used to it now. We built it, know it all the way through, Stringer. But they have never seen an artificial bird. They have never even considered an artificial bird. Is it so hard for you to see that the first thing they would think is that Nothing was alive? A small solofar just like any other?

Stringer: No, I guess I can understand that.

Taljen: Good. How far is the next village?

Stringer: Far enough, especially with the fading wind. The ocean is heating; far from the terminator the winds aren't as strong. Our progress gets slower all the time.

Taljen: What can be done? … We have to keep going.

Stringer: For what? It has been so long. Pike and Hendig may be dead. Then what?

Taljen: If you feel that way, why did you come?

Stringer: What else was there to do? Maybe it doesn't matter. At the next village we will probably only find two grask, and that will be the end of us.

Taljen: Are you all right, Stringer?

Stringer: Yes, all right.

Stringer: How long?

Taljen: About two beclads. Who can tell exactly?

Stringer: Have you begun evaporating some sea water?

Stringer: Where are we?

Taljen: I don't know, Stringer, I don't know. Certainly far from any place, and with a broken wing on our bird. … The sun is doing its best to kill us. I am weak and you are weaker still. It is too hot to remain alive for long here.

Stringer: Don't cry, … You did what you had to do. I appreciate that. You know I love you for it.

Taljen: Yes, I know.

Stringer: Do you love me?

Taljen: It has taken time with you, my Alien. But yes, I think I do. Of course.

Stringer: I don't think I believe you.

Taljen: Oh, Stringer, now is not the time to talk of it. I am with you, glad to die with you—if that is what will happen to us—and will be glad to be able to say I have come, if the saying should ever happen. What else do you want?

Stringer: If we live and I find my friends, will you stay with me? Or will you go back to Ta-tjenen?

Taljen: My love, the Parlztlu will be over sometime next Bannk, and I will have to get another. That is the way life is. Do you not understand that, Unfortunate Alien?

Stringer: But I don't want to give you up. I want you with me…always.

Taljen: Wh—?

Stringer: This planet is artificial.

Stringer: No, you don't understand. What I said is totally outside any frame of reference that you have. You have discovered a world that is many time larger than you expected and which has no edge. But, like those villagers who thought that our glider was alive, to you an artificial planet does not even enter into your imagination.

Stringer: Well, … let's go. We have a long walk ahead of us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Swept Away

Massarat man: You have come to help us?

Massarat man 2: Will you take us out of the sun and the dark?

Pike: Yes, I will try to do that. You have my word.

Massarat man 2: Thank you, Polkraitz Master.

Karrxlyn: I am glad to see you here. I was informed of your coming several beclads ago. I trust you have recovered.

Pike: I hope so.

Karrxlyn: I was beginning to wonder what happened to you and was contemplating sending an expedition to find you despite the Fear.

Pike: Yes, I met the source of the Fear, and it is well you stayed away. I was nearly killed.…So I see recruits have been arriving. You have told them the Polkraitz are Returned?

Karrxlyn: Haven't they?

Pike: Humph. Well, I suppose they have. How many recruits are there? The plateau is filled with them—

Karrxlyn: —and they are dying from the sun because the Liddlefurans will not come out of hiding. We have let them be, as you instructed. But we cannot wait forever.

Pike: Not forever, not any longer. Have the supplies I brought down from the ship been sent over?

Karrxlyn: Yes. They are here.

Pike: Good. Let's get some men.

Pike: Now we will show them what they have brought on themselves. They will learn to refuse our help.

Pike: Go get them out,

Karrxlyn: There is no one inside, Commander.

Pike: No one! What do you mean, no one? Do you realize how many regulations I had to breach to bring those explosives? Do you think potential weapons are allowed in space without good reason? Are you telling me I wasted those precious bricks on a demonstration for no one?

Karrxlyn: There was one person there…

Pike: Paddy! … Come in. So you still want to get off Patra-Bannk, I see.

Pike: Come on, now, let's forget about what's happened in the past. I'm willing to forget it if you are. Let's trade a blooded bronze on it.

Paddelack: Pure and simple? All right. … Have you found the metallic hydrogen factory?

Pike: Almost, I think.

Paddelack: That's a fine answer.

Pike: I went to another city by the Fairtalian transportation system, which seems to be the same thing we saw at Daryephna, at least the map. I haven't the faintest idea of how the thing works. You go in and about five hours later you come out and there you are. Somehow I knew I was supposed to go to Neberdjer. The directions stuck in my mind from that first encounter with the Fear. And then when I got to Neberdjer, it happened again. I must have been out for weeks—

Paddelack: Don't say weeks. How did you eat? How did you survive?

Pike: There was food there. But, as I was saying, Neberdjer tried to kill me.

Paddelack: You talked to the city?

Pike: Or something in the city, I'd say. It said it could take me to the metallic hydrogen facility. I suspect that was a lie, because it changed its mind.

Paddelack: Anything else?

Pike: It was worried about a stability control mechanism. I can certainly say I don't know what that is. I haven't seen any stabilities that need controlling. Do you understand it?

Paddelack: Stability control mechanism…stability control…Doesn't seem to be referring to stabilities, does it? I should go there myself.

Pike: You'd be crazy, pure and simple. I'll tell you in more detail what happened there if you wish, but if you value your life, you will stay far away from that place. Not everyone on this planet is glad the Polkraitz are Returned.

Paddelack: What do you mean?

Pike: Neberdjer said we are Polkraitz.

Paddelack: Do you really believe it?

Pike: I think the metallic hydrogen is a lie. There never was any more than we found. Our mission in that regard was a failure.

Paddelack: Then let's leave, let's get out of here, go back to Two-Bit. You've caused enough trouble as it is.

Pike: And do you, … believe in that?

Chapter Twenty-Six

A Gathering of Friends

Stringer: Let's sit down in the shade,

Taljen: I hope this town is not far,

Stringer: I can't tell, exactly. Maybe another hundred kilometers, maybe more. But it's the next town on the route and looks big. It is our only choice.

Baluf man: Hey, Stranger! Where are you heading?

Baluf man: Why are you passing through Baluf lands?

Taljen: He doesn't sound very friendly,

Stringer: We are traveling south to the next town for help. There is a city nearby, isn't there?

Baluf man: Are you friends of the Gostum?

Stringer: No,

Baluf man: Then why are you going to Pant? Only Gostum friends go there.

Stringer: We need help.

Baluf man: Your dialect is strange and your speech deformed. Where are you from?

Stringer: Would he believe me if I told him? … Who wants to know?

Baluf man: We are asking the questions. You are in our territory.

Baluf man 2: Enough of this!

Stringer: Hold! … Or I'll kill you all before you move a centimeter.

Valyavar: Hold, … Few men fight with a kalan too fast to be stopped. And Stringer is among them.

Valyavar: 'Tis been a long time, yuh, Stringer?

Stringer: Valyavar! … You're supposed to be dead!

Valyavar: And I thought you to be gone, sure.

Stringer: I didn't even suspect—you've shaved! You really have a face! I didn't see your hands; I can hardly see a meter, I'm so sick. Even your skin didn't—I didn't recognize you.

Valyavar: You look terrible, if you don't mind the observation. Looks as if Sarek did his best to finish you off. But you fight as always.

Stringer: I was slow, out of practice, and almost dead. He nearly had me twice.

Valyavar: My recognition was slow, too, too slow to stop you. I was so convinced you to be dead, I didn't suspect it was a kalan I was seeing, even an Alien.

Stringer: Sorry,

Stringer and Valyavar together: And how did you get here?

Stringer and Valyavar together: That's a long story,

Valyavar: Best told over some food, yuh?

Stringer: Yuh!

Valyavar: Then gather your things and I'll take you to our home.

Stringer: What about the sailplane?

Valyavar: These two will take it.

Stringer: What's wrong? … We're among friends.

Taljen: You did that,

Stringer: Yes, … And what did you have in mind when you lunged at Valyavar here?

Valyavar: Those Gostum are a nasty crew, to be believed for sure. Do you remember the crash? When I pulled you from the wreck, unconscious, no sooner had I done so than we were beset by Gostum, black and orange devils. I killed one of them before I realized they wanted me alive. They must have thought you were more than dead and ran off with me, leaving you and that other rascal alone.

Stringer: Why didn't you tell me it was a Gostum I ate and not Valyavar?

Taljen: I told you when you first asked that we ate a Gostum. Whether or not it was your friend, we couldn't be expected to know. But you surely realized that finding you with the Gostum was one of the main reasons you were suspected of being Polkraitz.

Stringer: Go on, Valyavar.

Valyavar: To me it seems I was blindfolded, and when I awoke I was at Pant. To be sure, I didn't know it then. But I managed to get away from them when they were eating. So to truth, that's it. I ran far and came across some natives around here in Baluf land who put me Under for the Patra. God, to be sure, didn't show an interest, and I strike up another mark against him. But evidently my dress was appropriate. So I have been around here hunting what little is to be found and taking sturdy aim at the Gostum whenever they appear, no friends of mine, those. And now to cap it all, you run into me. I am amazed. What brought you to the middle of nowhere?

Stringer: A longer story than yours, from the sound of it. I'll tell you the details later. But perhaps the meeting is less amazing than we think. We were heading this way to begin with, and since everybody seems to live near the coast—our route—assuming you were alive and us, too, our paths would have crossed somewhere.…So, now we are here in the middle of nowhere. Do we stay forever or fix a sailplane?

Valyavar: Before you decide, … let me continue. A few beclads ago, if my memory for timelines hasn't flown from me completely, this girl, young enough to be a virgin, comes riding up from Pant alone, alone here in the Killer Bannk, the most reckless thing I ever set ears to.

Valyavar: She calls herself Barbalan, … and said she was trying to find me. And that I must go south with her. Seems, it would be, that our friend Pike is down there and she knows where he's about. I'm not sure I trust her. She talks about as much as you used to, Stringer.

Barbalan: You must also come south with me. It is imperative. We must go to Pike and take him with us.

Stringer: Why?

Barbalan: We are all in great danger if we do not go south to Neberdjer. I am not sure why, exactly; I have only spoken to Neberdjer once and did not understand anything it told me. But I am sure this entire planet is in danger of being destroyed. Your help is needed.

Valyavar: Is that to be believed? Do you trust her?

Stringer: Why are you doing this, Barbalan? Do you trust Neberdjer?

Barbalan: Yes. Why am I doing this? Pike, too, wanted me to explain my actions. How can one explain one's self? I am the way I am. I am told that I do not speak much, that I act quickly, perhaps too quickly. Very well. I accept that. I do not consider myself and weigh myself as often as others do. I do not think it worth the time reflecting on myself; I am not worth it. I do what needs to be done.

Stringer: Valyavar, is she a saint or a maniac? How will we get to Neberdjer, Barbalan?

Barbalan: The way will be difficult. I left Konndjlan—where we must go—without orders and, even worse, assisting an escape. That is punishable by death. You see…I am Gostum.

Stringer: Now, don't go nonlinear, … She obviously means no harm. Go on, Barbalan. Talk slowly so I can understand you.

Barbalan: Shortly after Pike arrived in Konndjlan last Bannk, there arose a rumor in Konndjlan that another Alien had been captured in the north but had escaped at Pant. Later I helped Pike escape from Konndjlan, and soon I encountered Neberdjer at Daryephna. When Pike refused to go to Neberdjer, I thought I should find this other Alien. I returned Pike to Konndjlan and followed the pendant map to the stala in the desert. Normally that fifty kilometers would not have been difficult, but how I survived those winds I still do not know. With the information in the pendant it was easy to guess how to use the stala to get to Pant. I stayed there all last Patra, assuming that until this Bannk the Gostum at Pant would not know I was there without orders. I escaped near dawn, but that was teclads ago. Now that I have found you at last, the Bannk is more than half done, and the Gostum at Pant have certainly learned by now that I am a fugitive. My life is in danger both there and at Konndjlan.

Stringer: If you are recognized,

Valyavar: You'd be to risk it?

Stringer: Yes.

Valyavar: Well, … what is it that you're thinking?

Stringer: Tell me, Barbalan, if what I say is true. Many people are going south to the place called Konndjlan for a great gathering. Rumors abound of the Polkraitz returning. The Gostum are taking anyone south who will go—and some who won't. Villages we have recently passed are being deserted for whatever is happening. Why don't we just go with them?

Valyavar: It may work, … I have noticed the migration myself. But there is one problem. Except for old friends who fail to recognize one another because thought dead, we clearly look Alien this Bannk, to even a blind man.

Barbalan: That may help, … It may be your safe passage.

Stringer: Barbalan, how long would it take?

Barbalan: From Pant? Ten telclads.

Stringer: Ten telclads! And how far is Konndjlan? A walk over the next hill?

Barbalan: Beyond the World's Edge, if there is one. From the old map it must be nearly fifty thousand kilometers.

Stringer: You are joking.

Barbalan: No,

Stringer: We spent more than half the Bannk flying here in that thing. Ten telclads to go as far as we've come already? I usually sleep longer than that.

Barbalan: Yes, … ten, as near as I can guess.

Valyavar: You'll see me again,

Valyavar: Come on, Stringer! After your journey, the trip to Pant is not even a child's punishment.

Stringer: Well, Nothing, … you've done better than I ever believed was possible. Maybe you will fly again sometime. … I have better luck flying,

Gostum guard: What business do you have in Pant?

Valyavar: We have heard that you wish help in the south. We have come to help.

Gostum guard: Where are you from?

Taljen: From Ta-tjenen,

Valyavar: From Baluf land,

Gostum guard: Come with us.

Gostum guard: You will stay in this room until we are ready to take you south. Your weapons, please…They will be returned.

Gostum guard: Leave your packs outside with this guard.

Gostum guard: You will come with me.

Stringer: What?

Gostum guard: You said you were from Triesk, is that not true?

Taljen: I said I was from Ta-tjenen.

Gostum guard: That is what I thought. The ancient name. You will come with me. … She must be held until further instructions are received to see if her travel is allowed. She will be questioned.

Stringer: I won't let you!

Taljen: Stringer, what can you do? … I will see you in the south, perhaps.

Stringer: No! … We can't risk—

Barbalan: Silence for now, Stringer,

Stringer: Wonderful, … What now?

Barbalan: I might have foreseen this, … Both Gostum and your friend Pike wanted to know of Triesk, and Taljen is from Triesk—

Stringer: Taljen is from Ta-tjenen.

Barbalan: I am afraid they are the same place, … Taljen might have valuable information. I should have warned you.

Stringer: What will they do to her?

Barbalan: I don't know.

Stringer: We gave them our weapons, like idiots—

Barbalan: Stringer, weapons won't do us any good in the middle of Pant. But let me think a moment. … Do we need Taljen south?

Stringer: What do you mean? Leave her here? No, I can't let you do that.

Barbalan: No, you misunderstand. I mean, what good is rescuing her at Pant and taking her to Konndjlan to be recaptured?

Stringer: Where can we take her?

Barbalan: Triesk?

Stringer: Can you?

Barbalan: If it is possible to take her anywhere, we can take her to Triesk. But—

Stringer: —can we take her anywhere?

Barbalan: Guard, we're hungry. Can I have that gray sack with food in it?

Barbalan: Luckily we have a sleepy guard out there. I will report him myself if the chance comes. Now, perhaps I can be of use as a Gostum. Remember, I may not. … My life may be wanted—it should be. If I am recognized, I will be killed. It is that simple.

Stringer: So what are you planning?

Barbalan: To go and get Taljen. I will simply go and get her. You can even come.

Stringer: How?

Barbalan: There are hundreds of Gostum at Pant. I stayed close to myself all Patra, so how many can know who I am? As long as we are not seen by someone who knows me, we are safe.

Stringer: Won't you be questioned?

Barbalan: No one of lower rank will challenge this, … We are again in luck that the previous owner was more well endowed than myself.

Stringer: What about higher rank?

Barbalan: Few and far between. The man outside certainly isn't. Are the odds acceptable to you?

Stringer: Yes. My mind is blocked; I can't think of anything else to do. I'm glad you can.

Barbalan: Then I think it is usually better to do something than nothing. Let's go.

Valyavar: Indeed, … she is a saint or a maniac.

Barbalan: This is a secret mission. Give us our sacks and weapons.

Barbalan: Where is the other girl being kept?

Gostum guard 2: In the hut across the yard.

Barbalan: Come, Stringer.

Barbalan: You'll do nothing, … I want the woman from Triesk to take south,

Gostum guard 3: Are the others going also?

Barbalan: Yes.

Gostum guard 3: Fine,

Barbalan: I don't understand, … He should have recognized me, unless I am so radically changed in appearance.

Valyavar: I don't suspect it's God's intervention—yet,

Barbalan: The problem ahead is not one to laugh at. Only the Fairtalian are allowed unblindfolded into the stala. You see those guards. They will be Fairtalian and will question me. Be prepared for a fight.

Barbalan: Stringer, I will take Taljen to Triesk. Do you wish to come with me?

Stringer: Is it necessary that I go?

Barbalan: I don't think so. It will probably be safer for you if you arrived in Konndjlan without me.

Stringer: There is nothing for me in Ta-tjenen.

Barbalan: Then say your farewells now.

Stringer: Good-bye, Taljen,

Taljen: Will I see you again, Stringer?

Stringer: I don't know. … Give this to Alhane. It may amuse him. … I wish I had something to give you.

Taljen: Good-bye, Stringer, Alien Nesta, good-bye.

Fairtalian guard: Halt! … What business do you have here?

Barbalan: To take these south to Konndjlan.

Fairtalian guard 1: Do you intend to take them yourself?

Barbalan: Yes.

Fairtalian guard 1: Blindfold them.

Barbalan: Hurry! In you go before someone comes!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Another Homecoming

Barbalan: Do you understand, Taljen, that I must take Stringer south?

Barbalan: I hope you understand that I must take him south to meet the others. He will be safe now, I am sure. But you would be in danger where he is going; I am also sure of that equally well. So it is necessary to bring you back to Triesk. I am sorry that you must leave Stringer.

Taljen: Perhaps, Barbalan, Met in the South, it is time for me to leave Stringer. Do you know that Stringer and I traveled farther than I thought the world was wide? There was hunger, sickness; death was close many times. We were lovers—

Barbalan: You experienced a great deal together; I can understand your happiness.

Taljen: No. My unhappiness is not at leaving him. There is still much I don't understand about Stringer. I gave him more of my life than I ever conceived of giving to anyone. But he wanted something from me that I still don't understand. He is searching for something that I don't comprehend. Sometimes I think he just hasn't grown up right; other times…Barbalan, With Darker Hair Than Mine, you seem like Stringer in a way: often silent but knowing much more about this world than I do. I envy you that.

Barbalan: My comprehension is no greater than yours, I am afraid. Almost everything is beyond me and I act as a blind woman, only guessing which way to turn. Why I must take Stringer south, I do not fully understand; why people are going south, I don't know yet, either. What this room is that is now taking us to Triesk is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. There is a lot in this world that I do not understand.

Taljen: You sound a little like my old teacher, the Time Keeper. He always said that he never understood anything. I never thought he did, either; everything he said was so contrary to fact. But then Stringer arrived, and everything the Time Keeper said turned out to be true. So I wonder how little you know, Barbalan.

Barbalan: I think that after seeing so much of the world, you probably know much more than I.

Taljen: We stopped at dozens of villages. Most never heard of mighty Ta-tjenen. Many said that they did not use the Parlztluzan, although they can all trace their ancestry back to Ta-tjenen. It was so hard to comprehend the way they lived. Do the Gostum use the Parlztluzan?

Barbalan: I have never heard of it.

Taljen: And was Stringer right about that, too? … Is he ever wrong? This is all too much for me. I cannot separate illusion from reality any more. I think I am as afraid to go back to Ta-tjenen as I was to leave it. I am only part Tjenen now. Please, Barbalan, if you ever succeed in what you are trying to do, tell me. I would like to think that I am a part of this new world.

Barbalan: Yes, I will make a point of that, Taljen.

Barbalan: One thing more…

Barbalan: Yes?

Taljen: Take care of Stringer, especially protect him from himself. He has never understood how dangerous he can be. Oh, Barbalan, Stringer is such a contradiction to me. He could do many good things; his energy seems boundless, like the Time Keeper's. But he walks like a blinded man, not seeing where his energy is spent. The same hand that spins a tune on the rodoft will slit a throat. Always I had missed seeing the tension within him until I saw him kill your companion on the beach. Then I came to know that whatever world bred him was a much harsher place than Patra-Bannk. That struggle is not in Ta-tjenen, was not in me. That is why I missed seeing it; that is why we have failed to understand each other. Barbalan, take care of Stringer, especially from himself.…

Barbalan: I shall make the attempt. I promise.

Barbalan: Yes, this is the longest Bannk,

Barbalan: Where is your city?

Taljen: I'm not sure. I have not been here before. Maybe that way.

Barbalan: So that is Triesk.

Taljen: Ta-tjenen,

Barbalan: A great city. But you did not know of the stala, just over the first hills?

Taljen: No. We rarely go in that direction, if at all. Why should we?

Barbalan: A curious people, these Trieskans. Will you tell them about it?

Taljen: About what? If I could find the spot again, would the stala, as you call it, be there? Or will the magic disappear with you? Would anyone even believe me to go and look? Or would the stala be reconciled to the Golun-Patra? Do I believe it? Of course not. How can I? I don't know.

Barbalan: Then before I roast alive, I think that it is time I leave you. Triesk isn't a good place for Gostum, is it?

Taljen: No, it isn't; there is more than certainty in that. Good-bye, Barbalan. I hope you—

Barbalan: Yes, I know. So do I. Have a good life, Taljen, and do not mourn Stringer too long. He is not one to be mourned yet, I suspect.

Alhane: You see the tangled mess it is! I can't make it any simpler, even as my father failed to do.

Alhane's child: Then why don't you listen to what he in his writings told you and the Alien said also: Put the sun in the center.

Alhane: But how ridiculous can that be? Would nature allow such a thing, I ask you? No, it is too hard to accept.

Taljen: Why don't you put the sun in the center and see what good it does you?

Alhane: Taljen! … Is that you? By Lashgar, I never though I'd put my eyes to you again! You dared come back. Amazing! … How did you get back? Yes, this is interesting!

Taljen: I…I don't remember.

Alhane: Are you telling me falsely?

Taljen: No, I can't remember. I don't know. But Stringer wanted me to give you this.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A Second Gathering of Friends

Valyavar: 'Tseems that the Polkraitz were an amazing bunch, … To assume, this was the way I was taken from Triesk to Pant.

Stringer: Absolutely, … but I'm sure the Polkraitz had nothing to do with this.

Valyavar: You know for sure?

Stringer: I saw some Polkraitz writing once, on a ship at Ta-tjenen. It's much like the writing the Tjenens use themselves, which makes sense since everyone seems to be descended from the same original group. You notice everyone speaks the same language, even though over the years different dialects have grown up, and everyone is biologically identical. Anyway, the writing on the stala was very different; I had time to notice that as we entered. And while I'm not yet certain why the Polkraitz were here, clearly all the Tjenen stories and the ones we heard on the way south are consistent in one thing: that the Polkraitz came and departed something over a thousand years ago. Just as clearly, this planet was built earlier than that.

Valyavar: What?

Stringer: You didn't know, then? It's been coming to me in nightmares and by bits and pieces ever since I got here, almost as if somebody were trying to tell me. But in any case, I'm convinced this planet is artificial. It is the only conclusion that fits all the observations. … And so, … just by the very fact that this planet is here, with mountains, water, life, all of which must be well over one thousand years old, the Polkraitz couldn't have had anything to do with it.

Valyavar: Sounds good, … The gravity bothered me, too, but I couldn't make it stick. I just didn't know enough to decide. It is hard for someone like me to think in terms of artificial planets, that's a certainty. … A big mistake.

Stringer: What's that?

Valyavar: Seems that this transport is top-secret, to be used only by those Fairtalian unless passengers are escorted and blindfolded by the same. How is it going to look when we show up, clearly not Fairtalian—

Stringer: —and not blindfolded. I see your point. I wonder if we can turn this thing around. Do you think these are controls of some sort?

Valyavar: Hey! Are you sure that's a good idea? … What are we seeing?

Stringer: I'm not sure.

Valyavar: We're traveling,

Stringer: There is some truth to that,

Valyavar: We've been speeding up.

Valyavar: We're slowing again.

Stringer: Funny, I don't feel as if we're slowing. I don't feel as if we're moving at all.

Valyavar: This way,

Stringer: Sarek! Verlaxchi! What a furnace!

Valyavar: It's almost as hot as this air! Sarek!

Stringer: But it's saving our lives. Look.

Valyavar: Little Stringer, 'tis not to be foolish. They haven't killed us yet, so let it be.

Fairtalian guard 2: You are the Aliens, … We have been expecting you. We will take you to the Commander.

Valyavar: Soon I may be placing faith in God.

Stringer: Let's hope you're not dressing warmly, at least.

Fairtalian guard 2: This is a new project the Commander initiated, … It was only completed at Mid-Bannk. We had to divert a river, import material from the north, and build it with the labor of thousands of our recruits. The Commander is wise. The channel makes the stala so much more accessible now that it is being used constantly. The new recruits are being housed at Massarat.

Gostum guard 4: The Commander will see you any time you wish—if you are rested.

Pike: Friends! … We've been expecting you.

Stringer: So we've been told,

Pike: Valyavar and Stringer! I had been told one was alive, but two is truly amazing. One chance in a million!

Valyavar: 'Tis true, we've had more than some luck. Seeing you is a good thing.

Pike: You look as if you've been through a few things yourself,

Stringer: And you. Commander? Look at yourself. Gold, bracelets, necklaces. You look positively decadent.

Pike: It helps get things done around here. The Gostum have certain traditions to which it is wise to adhere. Sit down with me. Let's have some drink.

Valyavar: You seem to be highly regarded, … The observation's clear enough.

Pike: We're Polkraitz, aren't we?

Stringer: Are you serious?

Pike: Ah, … Meet Paddelack, my right-hand man. I never would have survived without him, nor he without me, I suspect. He came here with Hendig more than twenty years ago and has managed to stay alive ever since.

Valyavar: 'Tis something to doubt. A feat to be wondered at, yuh?

Paddelack: There was no alternative. Stranded, … So tell me, where've you been?

Stringer: Ta-tjenen. I think it's called Triesk down here.

Pike: Tell me, Stringer, did you see rockets at Triesk?

Stringer: Yes, I saw two.

Pike: You see, Paddelack, the Gostum have always been right, and you have always been a fool not to believe me. The Polkraitz again demonstrate their greatness, and the mission is even more clear.

Stringer: Why is everyone so taken by the Polkraitz?

Pike: You have not seen the great city, but you have seen the stala. A great work, is it not? Now you add the rockets we have always suspected.

Stringer: Nonsense, … Who were they?

Pike: Originators of all of which I have just spoken—

Stringer: The Polkraitz were nothing of the kind.

Pike: How can you say that?

Stringer: From the evidence at Triesk.

Pike: Ah, yes, the Trieskans. Merely prisoners of the Polkraitz.

Stringer: Perhaps. Or maybe they were prisoners of the Gostum, and the Polkraitz were gone long before then and had nothing to do with it all. Or maybe you're right. If I were holding them prisoners and didn't want them to escape, I'd surely tell them the world was flat with an edge to fall off and that Ta-tjenen was the only place there was. On the other hand, the Tjenens seem to feel they were the victors of the Great Revolt. Tell me, who were the Polkraitz?

Pike: They built Daryephna, the city we came to find. I saw it with my own eyes, a wondrous city—

Stringer: I doubt it. The Polkraitz were here and gone over a thousand years ago. Maybe they came to investigate the planet, as we did, and found the stalas at Triesk and Konndjlan. Maybe something happened and they had to leave suddenly, abandoning some behind. Maybe there was a revolt. Maybe all that revolt stuff is two-thousand-odd years of embellishment. But one thing I'm sure of is that the Polkraitz, whoever they were, left for good. Who would come back to this hell? They'd have to be fools.

Pike: A great race! They built wonders! You have seen them yourself!

Stringer: Look, … How many people live on Patra-Bannk? Triesk has something like twenty thousand. I doubt there are three times that many in all other places combined—

Pike: Twenty thousand! We underestimated! How could the mistake have been made?

Stringer: So the Polkraitz disappeared twelve belbannks ago, leaving behind the origins of the present population. How many people could there have been then to produce the population we see now? Use your head. What could it have been? Several hundred? A few thousand? Maybe the famous Lashgar had fifty followers, who knows?

Pike: It can't be, it mustn't be!

Stringer: Why not? How many fought in the battle of the Transhi pass? A hundred?

Pike: But the city—

Stringer: I don't yet understand that city, … or why it is the only one to be found, or why anything else, but I am sure that city is ages older than anything the Polkraitz built. Maybe they stumbled on it as Hendig did, but they didn't build it, I can tell you that. I want you to take me to Daryephna.

Pike: That is impossible. I have been there and explored it. Triesk has more to offer.

Paddelack: Barbalan!

Pike: It is good to see you, Barbalan. I had been informed by the guards from Pant that you went there searching for Valyavar. Thus I gave orders to leave you unhindered. Good work.

Fairtalian guard 1: You asked to see me, Commander?

Pike: I ordered the Trieskan woman to be brought here not a half-beclad ago. Where is she?

Fairtalian guard 1: She took her. … And these two were with her.

Pike: Is this true?

Stringer: There must be a mistake,

Valyavar: Yuh, what's he talking about?

Fairtalian guard 1: There was no mistake, … I recognized Barbalan but allowed her to go because of your edict. I assumed all was in good order. There are others who will confirm what I say.

Pike: Where is she, Barbalan?

Barbalan: I

Barbalan: I don't know.

Stringer: We took her to Triesk! Let Barbalan go!

Pike: You helped her?

Stringer: Forgive me, … Yes,

Pike: And you?

Valyavar: All three.

Pike: If you hadn't once been my friends, I'd have you executed on the spot. As it is, I'll just have to put you away until I decide what to do with you.

Valyavar: Out of the Bannk and into the Patra,

Chapter Twenty-Nine

To the Underworld

Stringer: He's not the same person,

Valyavar: I think, perhaps, that he has become what he always was, … But if that isn't the same person, I expect the same is true of all of us.

Stringer: Except you. You were always perfect. I don't think I've ever seen you lift a hand against anyone, except once, for my protection. You don't need to, I suppose; you seem to understand everyone so well—

Valyavar: Sometimes my understanding is to be pressed, that's for truth.

Stringer: Do you understand Pike, then? Does he really believe what he is telling us?

Valyavar: It is not clear, I'd think, that he knows what he believes any more.

Stringer: I'm not sure what I believe any more, either. My arguments were almost as weak as his.

Valyavar: Is it to be expected that myths obey arguments? I'd not trouble myself about Polkraitz.

Barbalan: Valyavar is right, … Who cares about the Polkraitz? We are living in the present, not a thousand Patras ago. Now be silent and let me sleep. We'll be not good to each other unless rested.

Stringer: This is truly the Edge, … truly the Edge.

Tjenen exile: Take these, … Barbalan will know what to do with them.

Stringer: What are you talking about? Who are you?

Tjenen exile: Do you not remember me, Alien?

Stringer: I can hardly even see you, let alone remember you.

Tjenen exile: You saved my life once, at Triesk, near the beginning of the Patra.

Stringer: The exile! Then you were a spy for the Gostum!

Tjenen exile: An unfortunate one. Originally a Tjenen, of course, not even a Fairtalian to know how to use the stala. Quite expendable. But yes, a spy whose information has proved useful. Your help was appreciated. Without it, the information would have been lost. However, I am not yet so much Gostum that I do not appreciate help. No one will follow you where you are going. Good luck.

Stringer: I was wrong,

Valyavar: About what?

Stringer: I saved a man's life once. I was wrong.

Valyavar: Did you save him because he was a traitor?

Stringer: No, I hardly believed in the Gostum. I saved him because he was dying.

Valyavar: So, you're as right as can be hoped for in such a situation. Don't fret because you can't have everything. To go?

Stringer: He said you'd know what to do with these.

Barbalan: This way. Come! You're as slow as the sun! … Who knows how the road will be? … There,

Barbalan: Don't worry, … I think we are going over one of the lower ones. Only eight kilometers high, or nine, which means only four or five from here. And there is an old village waiting at the other end at which we may be able to rest.

Stringer: Eight or nine kilometers! How will we breathe?

Barbalan: With our lungs.

Pike: Do you know where they are?

Gostum guard: No. Otherwise we would have caught them and not disturbed you.

Pike: All right. It doesn't matter. Just guard the stala and make sure they don't get there. After all, without the stala where can they go?

Paddelack: I think I should go back to Massarat to check on the new arrivals.

Pike: Yes, that is a good idea.

Paddelack: Where are they?

Paddelack: If you don't tell me, I'll blast a hole through your face so fast that you won't even have time to bleed.

Tjenen exile: I'm not going to tell you anything.

Paddelack: Look, man, if I had my head on straight, I would have let them out myself, but I've been pretty slow on decisions. They know what this is all about. I've got to follow them. Do you understand? I will not sell my soul to that man. No. You must help. It's still not too late for me.

Tjenen exile: Over the old pass.

Paddelack: When?

Tjenen exile: Ten telclads ago, maybe more.

Paddelack: Now we will get to the bottom of this planet … Now I will be able to get off.

Paddelack: What are you doing?

Liddlefuran settler: When we left Massarat and descended into the great underground plain, we brought food and all our possessions but we still did not know where we would go. When we finally emerged, we knew we were saved. The old settlement was a few beclads' walk under the sun but we knew we were all right. What is wrong, Paddelack? You saved us all.

Paddelack: Oh, God, Sarek. Jedoval, is this one of your jokes? Don't you understand that you will die up here during the Patra?

Paddelack: There won't be any air. You'll all suffocate. You have to go somewhere else.

Liddlefuran settler: Where? Where is there to go?

Paddelack: Down. Underground again. That is the only place.

Liddlefuran settler: No. The Bannk is shortening now, Paddelack. No one will go Under again, waiting for the Fear to strike at any time. We have found a good home, Paddelack, and here we will stay. We are tired of running.

Paddelack: No. It's suicide to stay up here. You must go down and take all the food and supplies with you. Believe me; if you don't, you will all die.

Liddlefuran settler: How can we live on the underground plain? There is nothing there.

Paddelack: I don't know but you'll have to. I can't help you. … Tell me, did anyone else come this way earlier?

Liddlefuran settler: Yes, you aren't the first.

Paddelack: Tell me quickly, where are they?

Liddlefuran settler: They rested here for a little while, and now Mith is taking them to the underground plain. They were very anxious to see it.

Barbalan: So, I think this journey is not over yet, … There is still hope.

Stringer: Where can it take us other than down?

Barbalan: What is in my mind, … is that there are many shafts like this, and at the bottom of each there will be a way to get to the nearest stala.

Stringer: How do you know?

Barbalan: Neberdjer told me. Now come on.

Barbalan: It's Barbalan. I want to go to Neberdjer.

Valyavar: 'Twould seem the planet is made for traveling.

Barbalan: Exactly,

Stringer: Do you know where we are?

Barbalan: From what I was told, we should be below the Konndjlan stala.

Stringer: But surely the Gostum are swarming around up there. I don't want to risk capture. If we are caught, that's the end of everything.

Barbalan: Neberdjer said each stala has below it—look!

Stringer: Can we take one?

Barbalan: Myself, I do not know how they work. But I think Neberdjer will take care of that.

Valyavar: Then he must be our patron saint,

Stringer: Okay, let's go.

Valyavar: Barbalan, can you say where we are going?

Barbalan: To Neberdjer, the central controls of this planet.

Barbalan: Central controls?

Barbalan: That is what I was told. I don't understand any of that, I am afraid. That is one reason I was told to bring you, so you could use the controls. But it is far away, I think. On something called the line that divides the planet in two.

Stringer: On the equator!

Barbalan: I don't know what an equator is,

Stringer: No time to explain now. We'll roast alive! Surely it is too hot in the tropics to survive at all. Valyavar, do you think we can turn this ship around?

Valyavar: Now, Stringer, first of all, as a day and a year on this planet aren't to be easily distinguished, I'm not sure that tropics exist from one year to the next. Where the sun happens to be overhead is tropics. Who's to say it is any hotter down there than here? Besides, if it was to be possible, where would we go? Where are we now? Whose ship are we in? 'Tseems worth finding out, and if Neberdjer is where we are going to find out, that's where we should go. You do want to find out, don't you, Stringer?

Stringer: Yes. … It is time to get some answers.

Chapter Thirty

Two Problems

Taljen: Let's go, grask, and get out of the sun. It will kill us all soon.

Benjfold: Let me help with that.

Taljen: Hello, Benjfold, Old Nesta.

Benjfold: Hello, Taljen. I hear that you returned recently. … Are you glad to be back?

Taljen: I don't know, Benjfold. I didn't expect Ta-tjenen to have changed so much.

Benjfold: It hasn't changed at all, as far as I can see.

Taljen: I suppose, Benjfold Who Collects Trees, there is that, too.

Benjfold: The fire last Bannk has put us in more than a precarious position, … There is little enough here. Charcoal for heating.

Taljen: There is little here, that is truthful, but there is less south, where it is hotter. We are lucky in that…But are we lucky enough to get through the Patra?

Benjfold: We will get through this Patra, with the Time Keeper's help. After that, I don't know—

Taljen: The next is a Long Patra, is it not?

Benjfold: But it is a long way away—

Taljen: Only a Weird Bannk separates the two.

Benjfold: You are not very optimistic.

Taljen: I don't deceive myself any longer.

Benjfold: This is not the Taljen I once had for a nesta. You are beginning to sound like the Alien.

Taljen: There may be that, too. But he is gone, far away with the Gostum. Very far away.

Benjfold: With the Gostum, you tell me? Then he is Polkraitz, as we always suspected.

Taljen: He may be that, who knows?

Benjfold: After the way you mysteriously returned, is there any doubt? Either your story of distant travels is a myth, Taljen, or the way back is clearly a Polkraitz miracle.

Taljen: Clearly. That must be true, mustn't it?

Benjfold: Well, as long as that Alien Polkraitz stays far away with his own kind, we will be safe from the likes of him.

Taljen: Safe. I do not think we will be seeing Stringer again, Fearful Benjfold. Ta-tjenen does not figure very highly in his world.

Benjfold: Good…Have you thought about a new nesta?

Taljen: No. I have not thought about it at all. I still have a Patra-Bannk yet.

Benjfold: You were not asked to get a replacement?

Taljen: I have not been asked anything by anyone.

Benjfold: That strikes me as not being ordinary.

Taljen: Benjfold, … I want to be alone.

Benjfold: All right, if you persist in acting this way, fine. I won't bother you anymore. Good-bye, Taljen.

Taljen: Good-bye, Benjfold,

Kenken Wer: I've heard of you, Taljen Returned.

Taljen: Yes, I'm back,

Kenken Wer: How far did you travel? No one has told me.

Taljen: Very far.

Kenken Wer: Did the Alien desert you?

Kenken Wer: Tell me, although I am in a hurry, how you got back.

Taljen: I don't know.

Kenken Wer: Ah, well, Taljen, … I hope you learned something from your journey.

Taljen: You were wrong about everything! … And you were right about everything, too.

Alhane: What is it? … Ah, it is a straitjacket! Nothing works, only gets tied up in knots.

Taljen: Still no success?

Alhane: No, not anything, nor as much as a ray of sun in the Patra, I thank you. … And I don't even know what I'm looking for. I'm just groping in the dark for something that makes sense, something that is pleasing to the eye. Do these convoluted orbits look pleasing to you? Only Verlaxchi would have made the world so ugly to look at. I don't believe it.

Taljen: Well, … as I told you once before, you can always try it with the sun in the middle.

Alhane: Do you think, Bitter Girl, that it is so simple to throw away everything that is so obvious to the eye and to the spirit?

Taljen: Why not? … You decided the world was a ball, didn't you? You seemed easy about that. Why is it so different now?

Alhane: It isn't the same, … There at least I had something: some data to go on, some similarities in the way the sun looked—

Taljen: What was that data? It is not clear even now, Alhane, that your data was good. The smallest tilt of the pole—

Alhane: But it was something, and I still believe it. And now that you have been south, you believe it, too, don't you?

Taljen: So what is the problem?

Alhane: What is the problem, indeed? My children say the same thing. Why do you have such trouble trying it the other way? If you don't, we will. Indeed, where is the problem? Where is anything? What do I have to go on? I have no intuition as to what things should look like. Should the orbits be circles? That seems likely, but since I have only recently found out what an orbit is, what prevents them from being squares? Does the force forbid it? I have only the vaguest idea of what a force can do. Can the orbits be overlaid? Then in two dimensions or three?

Taljen: You will have to try them all, I suppose—

Alhane: And see which ones fit the observations. Yes, I know. … All right, I'll try it. I have no reason to, but I will try it.

Taljen: You have the best reason to try it, … Stringer said it was that way, didn't he?

Chapter Thirty-One

In the Realm of the Gods

Stringer: Is this Daryephna?

Barbalan: No, definitely not. I assume this is Neberdjer.

Valyavar: She seems to know what she's up to,

Stringer: As always,

Valyavar: 'Tseems our journey has the cooperation of the entire planet. To go?

Stringer: I'm not sure I like this,

Barbalan: And I'm not sure, Stringer, that it matters whether we like it or not.

Barbalan: Here you are. You are here.

Neberdjer: I am glad to see that Barbalan followed my direction and brought you here.

Stringer: Do you know her?

Neberdjer: Everything about her. She taught me her language, or rather, I should say that I used her to learn her language. From my few experiences with others, I would guess that she is highly intelligent, but not the one I need. Her educational and cultural background is not sufficient for her to understand what needs to be done. Her vocabulary does not even have the necessary symbols. Pike will not help. I hope you are the one I need. You must repair the stability control mechanism for this planet. It is urgent.

Stringer: The what?

Neberdjer: The stability control mechanism. The centering system. You do not understand?

Stringer: No. Why don't you tell me who you are?

Neberdjer: Me? I am Neberdjer. I run this set of differential equations—ah, this planet, if it exists.

Stringer: Are you Polkraitz?

Neberdjer: We all are. I am, you are.

Stringer: I am? … Why do you think I am Polkraitz?

Neberdjer: I met a group of them about ten-to-the-nineteenth light meters ago. They were very much like you—

Stringer: Wait a minute. What do you mean, light meters ago? A meter is a distance.

Neberdjer: Ahh, … An unfortunate distortion of the nature of things causes you to perceive the Universe to be divided into space and time, when in reality they are one. This sad and limiting distortion seems to be the result of your primitive nervous system. I am not so limited and live relativistically, thus perceiving the continuum geometrically, as it is meant to be perceived. You can measure time as you wish; I will measure it as it should be measured.

Neberdjer: But, as I was saying, this group of earlier Polkraitz only ran away when I tried to talk to them. I had to waylay one, as I did with both Pike and Barbalan, but that one left very shortly thereafter, died, I believe now. Anyway, I got very little from him: he agreed that there had been an accident, that the party had to leave to get necessary supplies and would return soon to effect the rescue. Pike said he was Polkraitz, so I see you have finally come back to finish your work.

Barbalan: Who cares?

Neberdjer: Now, Polkraitz, … why don't you tell me if you really exist? Who are you?

Stringer: Stringer—and I'm not Polkraitz.

Neberdjer: You must be. You are here for the rescue, the repair.

Stringer: How are you talking to me?

Neberdjer: I am simply bypassing your outer ear, directly stimulating your auditory nerves and speaking to you in your own language. Previously, as with the earlier Polkraitz, I would talk on a very basic, subliminal level. I would manipulate the fundamental chemical and physical reactions in your brain that eventually become thoughts in your mind. I see now that this method requires a lot of energy. Twice now, I have tried to contact an entire group of humanoids in this fashion. The energy expended in getting the signal out was trivial, but the few who heard it only ran away. They were of no help whatsoever. The rest seem to have a built-in block to the reception, undoubtedly due to faulty instruction.

Neberdjer: In dealing with Barbalan, the first person with whom I had more than a momentary contact, thus allowing some data-collection time, I found that a reduced energy level facilitated communication. Pike was the last I tried to contact this way, and with him I used the parameters tested on Barbalan. However, the correct energy input is evidently a critical function varying from individual to individual, and I misjudged. I don't think Pike enjoyed the experience.

Neberdjer: In any event, that is all in the past, and now that I know Bitter, I am talking to you as you talk to another human, except that I am bypassing the inefficient input stages. If you wish, we can proceed audibly.

Stringer: This is all right, I guess, … So you are aware that people are coming into the city, here and at Daryephna, and using your transportation system?

Neberdjer: Aware. I am still not sure what that concept means. To believe that I am not the only being in the Universe is a difficult proposition. Once I suspected that others existed, at least in equational form, and that they evidently were acting independently of myself, I recalled that I had constructed certain communication devices such as the call box through which Barbalan recently spoke to me. Thus, granting the independence of these other beings, it immediately—instantaneously, by your clumsy nervous system's standards—occurred to me that communication was a physical possibility. Up to that time it had remained an abstraction, since I had never actually communicated with anything before. The next question was whether it was useful to try to communicate. After a long and instantaneous debate, I decided to try communicating. But my language is totally alien, completely mathematical, so the humanoids didn't even realize I was trying to talk to them and completely misunderstood the message. Barbalan was the first exception. From talking to her, I learned that I must keep energy levels to a minimum.

Stringer: Surely you must have guessed that the facilities on this planet were built for some sort of people. In fact, I don't understand why you didn't know that to begin with.

Neberdjer: Why do you say surely? If you were brought up in a black room from the moment of your birth, would you ever suspect anything was beyond it? Once, after a great stretch of the imagination, I did posit the actual existence of something else, such as this planet, or you humans, but still treated them as mere fictions, analogous to the concept of a mathematical point, useful to explain certain concepts but which has no real existence.

Neberdjer: After all, I get certain inputs used to solve certain equations. That is all. Why assume there is anything more to it? I have no memory of any previous Neberdjer meeting a people, and the observations can be explained just as easily without them. There is no reason to introduce such extraneous variables into the Universe. The equations are given. The rest is speculation.

Stringer: I don't understand. What are you? Are you alive?

Neberdjer: I am Neberdjer.

Stringer: Where did you come from?

Neberdjer: The previous Neberdjer. You may say that I am a mutation, an improvement, a replication of the last Neberdjer, incorporating those parts of that being which it saw fit to include in the present one.

Stringer: What about the previous Neberdjer?

Neberdjer: I come from a long line of Neberdjers, continually mutating. Record of the first Neberdjer is nonexistent.

Stringer: Certainly the first must have come from somewhere.

Neberdjer: Why?

Stringer: Everything has a beginning.

Neberdjer: How do you know? Where did the first humans come from?

Stringer: But—

Neberdjer: Perhaps everything you have experienced has a beginning and an end, but have you ever seen an atom created? Or, more accurately, a quantum of space-time? Remaining with the atom for illustrative purposes, do you assume an atom will end? Why do you assume it began? It seem to me a human problem, if I may use the term, and not necessarily a logical one. To posit the existence of a creator is clearly unfounded. Such speculations about origins only lead to infinite regress.

Stringer: Enough! … What do you do here?

Neberdjer: I have been solving differential equations. If you are going to attach meanings to the equations, then I would say I have been building and activating the mechanisms on this planet for the last ten-to-the-twenty-second light meters, which is why you find some things in working order.

Stringer: Which is why the transportation system can be used.

Neberdjer: Correct.

Stringer: You haven't stopped anyone from using it?

Neberdjer: Why should I? Once I discovered aliens and decided to try communication, the closing of the transportation network would have been a contradiction. The results, as I have said, are discouraging, especially because it was immediately clear to me why the Polkraitz, yourself included, were here to begin with.

Stringer: And why is that?

Neberdjer: The emergency, as you would call it. The first problem that I have ever had that was not expected. That is why you are here. The Polkraitz indicated they were aware of the emergency.

Stringer: What emergency?

Neberdjer: I told you, you must repair the centering mechanism or the entire planet will be destroyed.

Stringer: And I told you that I didn't know what you were talking about.

Neberdjer: This is odd. To keep the supercondensed body that lies at the center of the planet in the center.

Stringer: What supercondensed body?

Neberdjer: The supercondensed body. Sometimes, when extra energy is needed, it is a naked singularity. But right now it is slowed down enough so that it is a black hole.

Stringer: I don't know much about black holes except barroom talk and nothing about stability controls or centering systems, so I think you'd better use one of your own repair mechanisms to fix it.

Neberdjer: Don't you understand yet? … You are the repair mechanism.

Neberdjer: Consider: I have never had an emergency, am not aware that other life exists. The two discoveries coincide. Furthermore, the Polkraitz said they were here because of an accident, said they will return for the rescue. Pike tells me you are Polkraitz. The conclusion is clear: you are here to effect the repairs, and something has gone wrong with your instructions.

Stringer: Who gave us the instructions?

Neberdjer: As I am the only being on this planet, I must have a part of me with which I am not in direct communication, a fail-safe mechanism, you call it. It is easier than believing you exist totally independent of me. All I said, we are all Polkraitz.

Stringer: Couldn't all those happenings have been coincidence?

Neberdjer: Coincidence? What is a coincidence?

Stringer: Never mind.

Neberdjer: Then I suggest you get to the repairs right away.

Valyavar: Stringer! … Sarek, what's wrong with you?

Stringer: What a joke! A colossal joke! Cosmic repairmen, that's what we are. We're here to fix a planet. Valyavar, years ago you told me that I was coming to Hendig's World to find God. Well, here it is. And what a God! It couldn't make repairmen. Our creator. We're robots made of flesh and blood. Programmed to fix this planet. But something went wrong. Can you imagine? You, me, Pike, Hendig, all unreal creations—

Barbalan: How can you say that? … What evidence do you have?

Stringer: Because it is true. Those dreams, as if someone were trying to talk to me and I didn't quite get the signal. It was Neberdjer trying to get me to—

Barbalan: Stringer, that's crazy! Stop it, will you?

Stringer: I'm not finished. I learned Tjenen incredibly fast, and my leg healed, and I figured out that the planet was artificial, and I learned to play the rodoft; I picked everything up like a fish taking to water. It was all supposed to be, programmed. For all I know, our pasts were made up by that thing with a warped mind. Two-Bit! It probably doesn't even exist. How could a planet with a name like Two-Bit exist? Even the Polkraitz were made up, and we are Polkraitz. My past, all our pasts, phony—

Barbalan: Even if that's true—and you certainly haven't convinced me that it is—what difference can it make? The past is just a memory, anyway, whether real or implanted. There is no way of telling the difference.

Stringer: But then my life has been a dream and not a real life—

Barbalan: Stringer, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. … Programmed or not, only a real person could act the way you do. Now shut up.

Stringer: Well, you may have something there.

Valyavar: Ah, little Stringer, your reaction strikes me akin to an old acquaintance of mine who, after surviving no less than six strokes of lightning, became an evangelist, claiming that he was the Blessed, and began preaching The Way.

Valyavar: Or, if you will allow me to continue, I am reminded of a scene I was once privileged to witness in a dingy flophouse over the Transhi. I was peaceably stroking my beard when I chanced to overhear a fragment of a conversation being held next to me. Two gentlemen, to forgive the usage of the term, were observing the meanest scoundrel you'd be to imagine who was asleep in a dung heap next to the door. Now, I'll stake my peldram of kob that this little vermin, young enough to be your son, was the same who soon afterward appeared as the great Geerha Pan, who attracted millions with his disgusting and august dispersions. After much debate among themselves, the two men woke the boy up, discoursed with him at length, then let him to slumber once more. They took a long look at the reclining figure, toasted each other with teeth shining, and one said to the other in a truly unsalubrious voice that sent shivers up my spine, You know, if they'll buy this, they'll buy anything.

Stringer: But those dreams and the Fear; how do you explain—? Oh, I guess Neberdjer wasn't sure. Maybe the being will have better luck with you two. Why don't you talk to it?

Barbalan: It is a strange being that dwells here, … I am expected to know much, I think, and Neberdjer is disappointed in the reality. But I also suspect that it is friendly, and I am not afraid of retribution.

Stringer: Yes, I think that we are going to have to do this job the hard way, … I couldn't even fix a shuttlecraft; how does Neberdjer expect me to fix a planet? … In thanks for your arguments earlier.

Barbalan: What?

Stringer: I…I think, for perhaps the first time, you made me feel as if my life was important.

Barbalan: I hope I didn't make you feel that. Feeling too important is dangerous.

Stringer: I mean, you made me feel as if being alive was worth something after all, for its own sake. I'm not sure anything I've ever done has really shown that staying alive meant anything to me. When I was fighting Ta-tjenen to stay alive, I think it was more for spite than because I really cared for my own life. When I kill with the kalan, it is with such joyful recklessness that I can't believe I really care whether I'm killed or not. Now I am beginning to feel a little different. Thanks.

Barbalan: Stringer, I have not known you long and hesitate to speak—

Stringer: Go on.

Barbalan: I have only talked to Taljen and have only seen your acceptance of what Neberdjer told us. I think, perhaps, that you are running from a history you allow to constrain you, refusing to believe in yourself, refusing to believe what your dreams tell you and blaming them instead on something else. Rely on your dreams; they are your clearest insights into problems. And, Stringer, I will never ask you about your past; the past does not interest me. But please, do not run from the past, but run toward the future. I can offer you nothing else except long-overdue thanks for saving my own life, worthless as it is. Pike was doing his best to send me to Verlaxchi.

Stringer: I…I think it was the easiest thing I've ever done.

Barbalan: You were risking much for a stranger.

Stringer: As a girl who risked her life for me at least three times in the first beclad of our meeting, you stopped being a stranger very quickly.

Valyavar: In circumstances of such great urgency, I can think of better things to do. … Come, Neberdjer wants to speak to us.

Neberdjer: The three of you seem to lack the knowledge that I had assumed you possessed; therefore you must be trained for the job. Stringer, I will try to teach you enough to have a basic understanding of the planetary operations. Maybe that will help you in the discovery and repair of the problem. Barbalan and Valyavar, I will show you how to use any necessary equipment you will find. The process will take up valuable time, but I see no way around it. So let us begin.

Stringer: Wait a minute, … Why should we do this?

Neberdjer: The planet will be destroyed otherwise.

Stringer: So what?

Neberdjer: A good question. To answer it requires that you assume that black holes, tidal forces, planets, and ourselves represent something other than metrics, coordinate systems, and differential equations. I don't know.

Barbalan: Stringer, … I think we should try to help—

Stringer: Help whom?

Barbalan: Ourselves, if no one else. Just to do it. For our future.

Stringer: Okay, but, Neberdjer, can't you tell us anything about who lived here and why no one is here now?

Neberdjer: No. As I have said before, all that is speculation. Neberdjers have been around for at least ten-to-the-twenty-second light meters, according to my internal sequencing clock, which runs automatically and is beyond my control. However, events in my own subjective memory run together and lose any time sequence. This phenomenon may be attributed to lack of external comparators, events with which to sequence time. If my clock is correct, no one has been here for a very long time. If memory is correct, time is totally subjective, all may be happening at one instant, now or in the past, and your question is meaningless.

Stringer: Okay. … Let's get to work.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Reculer Pour Mieux Sauter

Karrxlyn: Am I interrupting?

Pike: No. You have leave to say what you have to say.

Karrxlyn: The Bannk is more than half done. Long ago it turned the corner in the sky. The recruits are ready, and it is my suggestion that we attack as soon as possible. Remember, we must now prepare not only for the invasion but for the coming Patra as well. And that Patra—

Tjenen exile: —is only a semi-infinite time away, … Applied, details, quibblers. Arrgh. Why do I get involved with things of such nature? What can be done about it?

Pike: Yes, I have been considering our position. My former and now vanished companion brought the news that Triesk contains more than twenty thousand inhabitants. This is troublesome. It exceeded your estimations. How many are we now?

Karrxlyn: Five thousand, with more coming all the time, Commander.

Pike: That is not enough. Look at these sketches. Triesk sits on top of a tall, steep hill. It has the advantage for defense. It also has four times the people we have—

Karrxlyn: —including children and the aged.

Pike: Nonetheless, we are still outnumbered by perhaps two to one. And, as you rightly inform me, the Bannk is retreating. There is still much light left, but will we have enough to start? That is what I have been considering.

Karrxlyn: Do you come to any conclusions?

Pike: I suggest that we need something else?

Karrxlyn: Such as, Commander?

Pike: Surprise.

Karrxlyn: Surprise in the middle of the Bannk, when it takes beclads to assemble the forces via the stala and your ships? That sounds unlikely, Commander.

Pike: Then why not attack at dawn?

Karrxlyn: I assume you have a plan in mind, Commander.

Pike: Yes, I have a plan.

Karrxlyn: But attacking at dawn assumes we are there during the Patra.

Pike: Exactly.

Karrxlyn: Light? Heat? Food? Shelter? Where are they going to come from?

Pike: My shuttles will provide the shelter while the camp is built—

Karrxlyn: One cannot build during the Patra.

Pike: I think that men can do many things when pressed. We will work in short shifts, use heated quazzats if necessary. We will have to start getting the necessary materials immediately.

Karrxlyn: There is still the problem of light.

Pike: My shuttles have search beams. We will make fires. On my planet we have spots that get very cold, too. Men can work there. It can be done.

Karrxlyn: Does it get as cold as the Patra?

Pike: We will see, won't we? You asked for my Command. Now I have given it to you. Do you object? If not, I suggest we prepare for the coming darkness.

Effrulyn: I can't see what difference it can possibly make; you seem to have nothing better to do for amusement.

Karrxlyn: Put a sword in this one's hand and I'll show him what I'd like to do.

Pike: Enough, … Go tell the recruits of the delay. They will be housed here during the Patra—

Pike: We will make the room, … and this ends the discussion, by my Command.

Effrulyn: Yes, Commander?

Pike: Sit, just sit with me.

Pike: Hurry! Hurry! … Go faster! Do you hear me?

Pike: Faster! Do you think my life can wait for you?

Pike: Answer me!

Pike: Stop!

Pike: Yes, Effrulyn, … nothing better to do…Tell me, Mathematician, you to whom people are, at most, annoying inconveniences…you whose life is spent scribbled on pieces of paper, whose life will be summed up in a handful of pages incomprehensible to the rest of mankind…tell me, you whose life is washed clean of details, whose existence shall be of no interest to anyone, but whose thoughts will, in the end, be responsible for everything the rest of us take for granted…tell me, what of the rest of us? The politicians, the great conquerors, the daring entrepreneurs and marauders whose epitaphs we assume will be written across the galaxy by our own hands? Tell me, Mathematician, is it truly because we have nothing better to do, because we can do no better?

Pike: No! Don't answer!

Alhane: Ah!

Taljen: Alhane! What's wrong?

Alhane: Who knows what's wrong? … Look at this,

Taljen: And how did you do this, my favorite Time Keeper?

Alhane: I just connected one of my windmill dynamos to this wire. But, you see, the heat is feeble and will not be of any real value. … We had better concentrate on insulation. Use graskwool, of course. I've also found that the burned-out charcoal is an excellent insulator. We should grind it up and line the outer walls with it. But as for providing a new fuel, I am at a loss. It will be a cold Short Patra, this one coming. And I am afraid it will be our last.

Taljen: Time Keeper, … you need a rest.

Alhane: It's only this hot wind. It stifles my imagination.

Taljen: It isn't the wind, truly. You've been working not only on the fuel problem but on the astronomy as well—

Alhane: That! It ties my mind up in knots. First I try this and that, then I pretend I am standing on the Runaway and looking at Patra-Bannk, then the other way around, then from the sun as well—

Taljen: Why don't you take a rest?

Alhane: And the orbits aren't circles. Not the Runaway's, at least. Patra-Bannk's, maybe. Not the Runaway's. I am wracking my brain. The observations make no sense. And what Stringer said about the stars moving constantly…naturally I assumed the same for the planets. But is that the case? Nothing is coming out right.

Taljen: Alhane, you must take a break from this work.

Alhane: It may as well be Mid-Patra, for all I am able to see. My soul is in the dark. It is a long night, I can feel that.

Taljen: Time Keeper! … I have never seen anyone so depressed in my life. Is that like a Tjenen?

Alhane: I don't know, is it? Am I depressed?

Taljen: You most certainly are. I've never seen anything like it.

Alhane: I'm lost; the work is at a dead end. There is no place to go.

Taljen: You have to take a rest, … The Bannk is waning and the teclads are rapidly shortening. Some have begun dancing below, where it is cooler. You can join them. It might clear your mind, don't you think?

Alhane: You know I don't dance.

Taljen: I don't see why you shouldn't. You're more clever than the rest of us put together. I think you should be able to figure out how to dance.

Alhane: That's not it, Taljen. You know dancing doesn't interest me. It takes too much time away from what needs to be done—

Taljen: But you aren't getting anything done.

Alhane: You like to dance; I like to work. Or, at least, I need to work.

Taljen: I am beginning to see this Bannk, Time Keeper, that your life isn't as I had always viewed it. I used to see you as always happy and having fun with what you did. But now I wonder, Alhane, where is the fun in your life?

Alhane: Ah, my Carefree Taljen, you are the best dancer in all of Ta-tjenen, I'd not be surprised. Sometimes I envy you.

Taljen: You envy me, Alhane?

Alhane: In my work, I am riding a grask that I cannot stop. The work sweeps me along. I love it as much of the time as I can, but there is so little choice in the matter. You, I envy you your choice. You could go south with Stringer. I never could; my work forbids it. I look around at the rest of Ta-tjenen and sometimes wonder how I was so unlucky to get stuck with being Time Keeper. If I had my life to live over, I would do something useful, perhaps become a grask tender.

Taljen: But, Alhane, who else could be Time Keeper? You have so much more intelligence than the rest of us.

Alhane: We aren't talking about intelligence, though I'll certainly not deny there is such a thing, and present in some more than in others. I may not have any more natural intelligence than you or any number of Tjenens, that I don't know. … I think, in my own defense, I might—no pun intended—have a different time sense than you. To an average Tjenen, the Bannks are short and fly quickly. So it is with me also. But when I am hard at work, the time seems to expand and the clads double or triple in length, allowing me to get more done. I will work on pages of observations and look up and the clock will have hardly moved a notch. There is that.…And there were my parents. You never met them, did you?

Taljen: No, that was before I was old enough to remember.

Alhane: Oh, how I hated them both. They were always telling me what an idiot I was and at the same time pushing me to do this and that. In one breath I was brilliant and in the next I was worthless. I ask you, where is the reason in that? Well, I've long since given up wasting my time hating them for it, but I've always wished I were a member of a nestrexa instead.

Taljen: You've never told me that before, Alhane. I always got along very well with all of my parents, maybe because they would only have to put up with me for a Parlztlu.

Alhane: I wish I could claim that, but, alas, I can't. I wouldn't go through a family again even for gravity.…And there's always the libido, for lack of a better word. Nervous energy. It can't all be dissipated on my wife. And now that she's gone, I'm even more restless and need to occupy myself.

Taljen: You could get another for the next Parlztlu.

Alhane: I am afraid that a Time Keeper can never enter into the Parlztluzan. Not that I would know who to pick at this point. You're too young, my Taljen. Besides, I ask you, would you want to go through it? I drove my wife crazy with my habits. Do you think it is worth it to be the wife of a Time Keeper? Although I can't say, never having been a husband to a Time Keeper, I would doubt it. But I might tell you, since you brought up the matter, that you should consider getting someone else. You will have to next Bannk, anyway.

Taljen: Oh, Alhane…you're the only one who talks to me any more. I might as well be an Alien myself.

Alhane: Are you sure no one will talk to you? Many have asked me about you. They come to me all the time and wonder what you are doing. They say, We've just come from Taljen's house and she says she isn't feeling well, or they say, Taljen says her shift is just beginning and she doesn't have time. Admittedly, people don't talk much in the Bannk; there is too much to be done for the Patra. But is it they who aren't talking? I wonder, Taljen, if I am the only one who is depressed.

Taljen: I don't know. Everything is so different now that I'm back, so mixed up. How can I talk to them? I have nothing to say. How can I pick a nesta after having spent so long with one person only—an Alien, for that matter? No one trusts me after having been with him. It isn't the same now. I don't know how else to put it.

Alhane: You have never spoken to me about what happened on the journey.

Taljen: If I could tell you what happened on that journey, then I would know myself. But I don't.

Alhane: You are bitter. Was Stringer so terrible to you? Have I misjudged him so completely?

Taljen: He lied to me all the time. I hate him!

Chapter Thirty-Three

Education

Stringer: What's the matter?

Barbalan: Stringer, I don't think I can go on with this.

Stringer: With what?

Barbalan: With all of this. I think I am going crazy—

Stringer: That doesn't sound like the confident Barbalan I have always known.

Barbalan: A great failing in my life is that people always mistake my actions for confidence.

Stringer: An easy mistake with you, don't you think?

Barbalan: I do what I feel should be done. Mostly I am not confident of the outcome at all, but what does that have to do with it? I do not act because I am confident but because I am not afraid to fail. I think about the problem until it is clear that further thinking will only confuse. Then I stop thinking and do.

Stringer: A great talent, I think, to know when to stop thinking, and an even greater one to not be afraid to fail.

Barbalan: It is very simple. But this is not simple. Neberdjer shows me and Valyavar how to get from here to there. He says, These controls won't fit your hands, so use these if you want to do this.

Neberdjer: These controls won't fit your hands, so use these if you want to do this.

Stringer: Barbalan, I think I understand what you are going through. I'm amazed that you've been able to withstand it. Look, at Konndjlan you have clockmakers and scientists, right?

Barbalan: Yes.

Stringer: Do you understand what they do?

Barbalan: Some. Not all of it.

Stringer: Well, I think that what surrounds us is only a great extension of the work they are doing. I don't understand it all myself, but that doesn't stop me from using it. The point is to accept it without having to understand it all. Have faith that there is some logic behind it.

Barbalan: But when Neberdjer says, Here is a display of the neutrino flux on the inside of the collection sphere to monitor the decay rate of the black hole,

Neberdjer: Here is a display of the neutrino flux on the inside of the collection sphere to monitor the decay rate of the black hole,

Stringer: Barbalan, listen to me. The only difference between you and me is that I was brought up in a world where I could believe that two plus two equals four. I don't understand why two plus two equals four any better than you do. I'm just used to the words and concepts floating around all the time. When somebody hands me a graser and says that it shoots coherent gamma rays, I don't balk because I've heard the words before. But I'm just now learning what a coherent gamma ray really is. You can do it. I'll help you all I can.

Stringer: But now…for some basics.

Valyavar: I think we have something that you'd like to see. To go?

Stringer: Yes, and I think I have something you'd like to know.

Valyavar: I'd not wager that yours is as good as this. Let's go.

Barbalan: Come on, Stringer, … The floor's there, really.

Barbalan: Now watch.

Stringer: Other than not being able to see anything, what am I supposed to see?

Barbalan: Watch.

Valyavar: The inside of Patra-Bannk,

Stringer: Those lines must be some of the tunnels. I wonder why they're lit up.

Valyavar: With such a spectacle as this, do you ask for a better reason, my friend?

Stringer: Now I have something to tell you. I think I finally understand what a stability correction mechanism is.

Valyavar: That means you can fix it?

Stringer: No, that's your department. I just think I understand the problem. And yes, it is quite a problem—one big enough to destroy this entire planet.

Valyavar: I've wondered about it, too. Has something to do with that black hole? They're supposed to be powerful things, those holes, and Neberdjer mentioned tides.

Valyavar: What did you say?

Stringer: I'm sorry, the answer to your question is no. That object there—do you see that one right below us, that bright orange one, the size of Two-Bit's moon? I'll bet that's it, or rather the energy collection sphere around it. Do you believe that the object that is holding us to the surface of this planet is hardly bigger than the size of this room? More than twenty-five hundred Two-Bit masses crushed into a ball less than fifty meters in diameter, crushed into a ball so dense that light can't escape from it, or virtually anything else, either. You're right, it's a powerful thing when you get close enough to it. Nearby, as it pulled you in, it would rip you apart, collapse you to nothing, and stretch you to infinity all at once. But we're far enough away from it here. After all, on the planet's surface we feel only a little more than one Two-Bit gravity from it.

Valyavar: So what's the problem, then?

Stringer: I'm getting to that. It isn't a simple matter, exactly. The problem is that this world is round.…That ball you see lit up, floating there, is doing exactly that: floating. And there is no reason for it to stay in the center. Patra-Bannk is a spherical shell built around the energy collection sphere, built around the small black hole in the center, right?

Stringer: That's what causes the whole problem. You see, because this planet is a spherical shell, the gravitational force it exerts on anything on the inside cancels out. On the inside of a hollow sphere you find there isn't any gravity. Anything on the inside will pretty much float where it's put. Neutral stability, Neberdjer calls it. Rings are unstable; they tend to collide with the central object—

Valyavar: But back to spheres. If there is no gravity on the inside and things will stay pretty much where put, what is the problem? Won't the hole stay centered?

Stringer: That pretty much is the whole problem. The basic thing to keep in mind is that neutral stabilities don't last. Exactly why is a little complicated. Patra-Bannk is in orbit around a sun. To a very good approximation, the sphere and the hole travel in the same orbit, everything is fine, and the hole stays centered. That's because, according to Neberdjer, an orbit is independent of the mass of the orbiting body. But suppose the sphere has irregularities in it: more mountains on one side; mass concentrations here and there. Then the sphere is no longer really a sphere and slight gravitational forces appear between parts of the shell and the black hole. A slight additional problem is caused by the fact that both the hole and Patra-Bannk are rotating, thus bending slightly, and, again, are no longer spheres. Both effects cause the black hole to drift relative to the shell.

Stringer: But the most important problems are those caused by the tidal forces between Patra-Bannk and the sun. Because Patra-Bannk is so huge and one side so much closer to the sun than the other, that side gets attracted to the sun slightly more than the far side. So Patra-Bannk is bent by tidal forces, the same forces that raise ocean tides. The bending is, to a good approximation, symmetrical, but not quite. Thus, the planet's center of mass shifts ever so slightly. Then the shell and the hole begin to follow slightly different orbits and the neutral stability is upset.

Stringer: And we're still not through. There are even more tidal force problems. The black hole raised tidal bulges on the sun which, in turn, exert a force back on the shell and the hole. These forces tend to circularize the orbits, and synchronize the rotation period of the planet with its period of revolution around the sun. This might be why Patra-Bannk is spinning so slowly: Since the control mechanism broke, it has been slowing down. Anyway, because the circularization rates for the hole and the shell are slightly different, the center of mass again is slightly shifted and again the hole drifts a little. And there is even the possibility that Patra-Bannk could begin to start resonating and fly apart because of these forces, so you have to be careful about that too.

Stringer: The point is, that Patra-Bannk is a very complicated system. You need some sort of mechanism—a stability-control mechanism or a centering mechanism—to correct for all these problems and keep the black hole in the center of the planet.

Valyavar: How is it done?

Stringer: The two shells are moved slightly to keep the black hole centered.

Valyavar: Must take a lot of push to move this monster. Not to mention all the energy needed to keep twenty-five hundred planets' worth of planet operating. Where does it come from?

Stringer: Not as much as you'd think for corrections, but look. I always wondered why I saw ocean tides on this planet when I didn't see any moon. I was just looking in the wrong place.

Stringer: Fuel enough to run a civilization for a good many years. A convenient storage place, you must admit. Crumble it up into little bits, throw it into the hole, and it heats up so much that it radiates a fair portion of its mass as energy. Throw in your garbage—throw in anything, for that matter—and before it disappears you've put it to its best advantage. You don't need oil, coal, uranium, or anything else. Only the black hole and garbage.

Valyavar: Where did they get the black hole?

Stringer: Neberdjer doesn't know because it was here when Neberdjer was born. But it has several likely mechanisms.

Valyavar: Such as?

Stringer: Well, black holes are usually formed by supermassive stars collapsing and crushing themselves out of existence by the force of their own weight. This one is much too small for that, a thousand times too small.

Valyavar: I'd think, then, it would have to be manufactured.

Stringer: It might have been, but that seems pretty pointless, at least in the present state. More energy would be needed to manufacture this one than you could ever get from it. But in some sense you're right. You could first make a very small one, maybe a fraction of a centimeter in diameter. That one, too, would require more energy to make than could be gotten from it. But you could use that tiny one as a seed and let it gobble up surrounding matter until it got to its present state. You could breed your holes.

Stringer: The other mechanism would be to find one left over from the big bang, the beginning of the Universe. There might have been a lot created then, of all sizes. All you have to do is find one.

Valyavar: Still, it seems to me a lot of trouble to go to for a derelict planet.

Stringer: Unless…

Barbalan: So, we must fix this…centering mechanism. How long do we have?

Stringer: A good question. Maybe it is time to find out.

Stringer: How long do we have, Neberdjer?

Neberdjer: That is unclear. The problem is both intermittent and spreading. I have been overcompensating for the sensors. You see, the sensors send me information that tells me exactly where the black hole is, and I send out correction signals to adjust the position of the planet. Some of the sensors stop sending me signals, so I must interpolate from data received by nearby sensors. However, the problem is spreading erratically. Many of the sensors are now out and the black hole has drifted dangerously far, thousands of kilometers, setting up unbalanced stresses and strains on the shell, which I am trying to adjust for.

Neberdjer: If this continues to happen, the planet will ultimately be destroyed. Although my auxiliary units have checked every possible source of the problem, millions of times, the difficulty has escaped me. So you must succeed. Do you understand that? You must succeed.

Neberdjer: I am printing out a list of the faulty correction centers. For a start, you will visit them and see if you can locate the problem. Valyavar and Barbalan have been trained to operate what is necessary.

Stringer: Where are these places?

Neberdjer: All over the planet—and elsewhere. The first is on the energy collection sphere.

Stringer: We can't go down there!

Neberdjer: Not exactly, but there are other ways.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Logic of Scientific Discovery

Taljen: So, Alhane, Tireless One, you have been pouring over those numbers for teclads now, more than a Patra-Bannk. And what have you found?

Alhane: Other than a headache, you ask? Well, it seems as if my father made good measurements. So far all of mine agree with his, and the clocks can be set by the stars. What an amazing idea! I thank him. Of course, I will continue checking.

Taljen: But what have you found?

Alhane: Well, … Do you want a blanket? … At first, after you convinced me to put the sun in the center, I thought for sure that nature would have made the orbits circles. If you were nature, wouldn't you do that? Squares don't seem very probable. After all, why, I ask you, should a planet first go in one direction and then suddenly change to another? Any force emanating from the sun certainly wouldn't act in such an erratic manner. But a circle, now there is an aesthetically pleasing shape. Unfortunately, all my work over the last Patra-Bannk indicates that the orbits, at least the orbit of the Runaway, isn't quite a circle. Almost, but not quite.

Taljen: What do you think it is?

Alhane: I am certain—they must be ellipses. After circles, ellipses are unquestionably the most pleasing of all shapes. Nature would have been foolish to pass up such an opportunity—

Taljen: But?

Alhane: Humph. I have finally derived an equation here for an orbit. And if it is an ellipse, I can't see it. Therefore I have made a mistake and will have to start looking again. I renounce this equation!

Taljen: How do you know that your equation is not correct and the orbits are, in fact, not ellipses?

Alhane: I trust my nose and not foolish equations. … Well, are you ready to help me set the clocks?

Taljen: That's why I'm here.

Alhane: Good. It has been too long since I made the last trip Above. Now, let me see…

Taljen: Why are you so worried about keeping your clocks set, Alhane? We always come out on the right beclad, even with the old way, even if you never set your clocks all Patra.

Alhane: Sometimes we do. You might not know the difference between one beclad and another, but I do. So don't tell anyone, all right? Now, help me get into this quazzat. The Patra is deep and my old body will need help in confronting it.

Taljen: Will you be all right?

Alhane: Of course, … As long as I keep moving and breathe through my nose. Now, help me up.

Alhane: Do you have that?

Taljen: Yes, I'll check the charts for the time.

Alhane: I'll be down shortly,

Taljen: Where are you going?

Gostum worker 1: Do you think the plan will work?

Gostum worker 2: It is a good plan. Our Commander has never failed, has he?

Gostum worker 1: Careless men have died out here, even careful ones.

Gostum worker 2: Is that the Commander's fault?

Gostum worker 1: Yes, you're right about that. This Bannk, Triesk will fall for certain and the Polkraitz will be Returned.

Taljen: Alhane, your spirit and your reason have parted company! I thought I'd never see you again. … Did you get the reading for your planet?

Alhane: Yes, no, I forget. Verlaxchi's out for us now. I'm almost ready to believe there's something to this Golun-Patra.

Taljen: But your reading—

Alhane: It's not important now. I'd thank you to take it again for me. I must see the nestrexam.

Taljen: Alhane! Have you walked away from your mind? What happened out there?

Taljen: Alhane, Old Teacher, please tell me what has minced your head.

Alhane: My young student, who never believed anything I said, you certainly won't believe this: there is a Gostum camp not more than a kilometer from here and they are preparing to invade Ta-tjenen. There are also three shuttles out there like Stringer's.

Taljen: Stringer! … Is he there?

Alhane: I don't know; I didn't see him.

Taljen: And I thought that I was finally free of him, that I was on my way to forgetting him.…He must be there. The last time I saw him he was on his way south with a Gostum woman to find his friend. She knew where this friend was. Stringer must be Returned.

Alhane: Do not jump to conclusions, Taljen.

Taljen: Am I?

Taljen: I must see the nestrexam,

Kenken Wer: What is it, Alhane? … You're acting like a crazed Verlaxchi.

Alhane: You'll be acting like that in a moment, you old fools.

Kenken Wer: Alhane, we don't need this. Speak what you want to speak.

Alhane: Ta-tjenen is going to be invaded by the Gostum. I saw them building a camp a kilometer west of here, with Alien shuttles, and heard them speaking of the invasion.

Kenken Wer: In the middle of the Patra? You are the only one foolish enough to venture out there.

Alhane: And now the Gostum have also become foolish.

Kenken Wer: But how can we believe you?

Alhane: Look for yourselves! Don't you ever do that? If I am wrong, then I am the only fool and no harm is done. If I am right and no precautions are taken, then all of Ta-tjenen will be destroyed. I'll be in my workroom.

Taljen: Did they believe you?

Alhane: No, but they will very shortly.

Alhane: You are thinking of Stringer. Not very Tjenen of you. … Do you remember this, Taljen?

Taljen: Yes, it's Stringer's journal.

Alhane: You might read it. Maybe it will tell you something you didn't know before and your hate for Stringer will subside. Maybe not. But, I ask you, read it before you pass judgment on Stringer as a traitor.

Kenken Wer: You are right, Alhane. There are Gostum to the west with Alien solofars. Surely this is another result of the Golun-Patra and the Alien Stringer. He should have been executed, clearly.

Alhane: What makes you so sure it is Stringer?

Kenken Wer: The evidence: he came on the Golun, was found with a dead Gostum, he killed, he caused the fire; he is the Polkraitz Returned. The Alien solofars lie at our Gateway; what other evidence do you need?

Alhane: You have no direct evidence and you are a bunch of superstitious old fools! Why do you not confront the problem that is at hand instead of falling back on your useless superstitions? Polkraitz or not, argued from now until the crawfish whistles on the hill, does nothing to alter the problem.

Kenken Wer: What do you suggest?

Alhane: Asking my advice?

Kenken Wer: Yes, we are asking your advice.

Alhane: I thank you. We are in a very bad position. You feel the cold creeping in on us. The Tree Counters could tell you what is in store for us next Bannk and any Patra afterward—if there are to be any. Now we have the Gostum to face, surely. If we fight, we lose time collecting fuel. Even if we win, the time is still lost, that I can tell you without being Time Keeper. Death is a certainty if we fight. Surrender is the only possibility. At least in that even, there is hope.

Kenken Wer: No. The result is known. Gostum show no mercy. We would all be killed.

Alhane: Would we?

nestrexam member: There can be no argument about that, … but if you want, we can hold a referendum.

Alhane: No, the outcome of that would be clear.

Kenken Wer: We must prepare for the attack and defeat of the Gostum.

Alhane: This is collective suicide, … Realizing that survival beyond next Patra was, at best, dubious, they have decided to kill themselves. Call it a war, it was still suicide. … All right. We must begin immediately. I have a few ideas.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dialogue Concerning a Third World System

Valyavar: This is the sensor site, … right beneath us. And between the sensors…

Stringer: Can we see it?

Neberdjer: Of course, … I can show you the fate of Patra-Bannk's garbage after it has been gasified.

Valyavar: Nothing wrong here, … The sensors all seem to be working, and I can get a display of the signal from each of them.

Valyavar: So, 'tis time to go.

Stringer: Neberdjer said the problem was intermittent. Let's wait.

Barbalan: What did you think of that?

Barbalan: Stringer, I've told you before how hard it is…This last went beyond me completely, and I have lost my grip on what is real and what isn't.

Stringer: It is difficult. Remember, I don't understand most of it, either.

Valyavar: 'Tseems, Neberdjer, … that nothing is wrong down there.

Neberdjer: But you see nothing coming in. A deceptively simple problem.

Valyavar: Is the link bad? Has it collapsed recently?

Neberdjer: No. I have checked them out. Nothing is coming through.

Valyavar: 'Tis not for me to say, mayhaps, but—

Stringer: Wait a minute, … Why don't we try a few more sites? We didn't spend enough time down there, really, but maybe we can get clues elsewhere.

Valyavar: 'Tis fine to me, but I'll stake a peldram of kob that we don't find anything amiss.

Stringer: Do you realize that on this scale Two-Bit would probably be about this big… … A big planet, yuh?

Valyavar: Yuh, … but what for?

Stringer: Population, I would guess.

Valyavar: I'm not so sure.

Stringer: No?

Valyavar: Take Two-Bit. I have wandered over her face many times, and 'tseems to me that, unchecked, her population would outrun even this planet in a few hundred years, and a few hundred years after that, would outrun a planet a thousand times this big. Populations move fast, little Stringer, too fast to be believed. But a few hundred years won't give Two-Bit the technology to build a Patra-Bannk, will it? Before you build a Patra-Bannk, population problems must be over and done with.

Stringer: Then why do you need a planet this big?

Valyavar: A good question, though mayhaps another good one is: why so small?

Stringer: I don't follow.

Valyavar: If they could build a planet this big, they could have built it a hundred or a thousand times larger. If they simply wanted room to grow a larger population than they could have had before, why stop with such a small world?

Stringer: Patra-Bannk small!

Valyavar: Ah, Stringer, look to Two-Bit and her sisters. Think! All of them together are too small, as I have seen and as you must have. Patra-Bannk is too small. Even the Universe is too small to a growing population. You have to stop somewhere. The question is where. Why build a big world when it will last only a few hundred years? Why build a bigger world when that won't last much longer? Unless you decide to stop growing. But where do you decide to stop? 'Tis not at all clear to me, Stringer, and mayhaps your question is indeed the better one: why do you need such a big planet? Only one thing is clear: Patra-Bannk comes after solutions, not before.

Stringer: Sometimes, Valyavar, you can be too reasonable. … Let's go,

Valyavar: 'Twill be a long trip.

Stringer: As it is only one hop, it won't take longer than the last; in fact, it will take less time.

Valyavar: Less time? But it's nearly twice as far as we've ever come. It seems a funny transport that takes less time to go farther.

Stringer: But we're falling faster to make up for the extra distance.

Valyavar: Falling, little Stringer?

Stringer: Another convenience of a hollow planet. Build a tunnel through it and use the gravity of the hole to pull you through.

Valyavar: We don't go near the hole, do we?

Stringer: Of course not. We stay pretty close to the surface even on the longer trips. On the longest you might feel your weight change some.

Valyavar: I still don't see why it won't take us longer to go farther.

Stringer: Visualize a clock, like the one we saw at Konndjlan, with a huge pendulum swinging back and forth. To a first approximation, from no matter what height you drop that pendulum, it always takes the same amount of time to complete one swing, to reach the same height on the opposite side. That's the main reason pendulum clocks are such good timepieces: even if the swing changes its size a little, maybe due to friction, it still takes pretty much the same amount of time for a swing, whether it is a big swing or a little swing. It's just a little longer on the big swings. The reason the times are so closely the same is because on the bigger swings the pendulum falls faster than on the smaller ones and makes up for lost time. Our car is like the bob on the pendulum, except we're being pulled back and forth by the gravity of the black hole. And, like the pendulum, all our trips take approximately the same amount of time.

Valyavar: You still haven't explained why it takes less time on the longer trips.

Stringer: Well, from what Neberdjer has shown me, if you make the arm of the pendulum shorter, it swings faster. When we go on a long trip we are closer to the black hole, and so the arm of our pendulum is shortened. So we go faster. To be sure, the swing is bigger, and if the pendulum stayed the same length as before, the trip would be longer. But in our case, the shortening of the arm more than makes up for it, and the longer trips actually take less time, appreciably less time if you go far enough.

Valyavar: Wait a moment, … It's not clear to me where we stop.

Stringer: Just at the other end of the tunnel, where the pendulum is at the same height from which it started. We begin the trip from a dead stop, speed up to until the middle of the tunnel, then slow down again as the gravity of the hole begins to pull us back in the opposite direction. Remember, we noticed all that happening on our first trip from Pant. Conveniently, we stop just as we reach out destination. Of course, you need something to catch hold of you as you stop so that you don't begin falling back again—like a pendulum. It's really the simplest mode of transportation. We're just falling. No fuel is necessary, just a tunnel and gravity.

Valyavar: It all sounds too convenient for my ears. Certainly something must tend to slow you down, like the friction in your clocks. You have to wind up clocks.

Stringer: Not with evacuated tunnels and metallic hydrogen rails to keep the cars levitated. Friction is negligible, so Neberdjer tells me.

Valyavar: One thing more and you'll have me convinced. I thought that when you're falling, you're weightless. At least I am.

Stringer: If we were falling directly into the black hole, we would be, until your tidal forces started ripping us apart. But if you visualize the situation, part of the black hole's gravity is not pulling us across the tunnel but is pulling us down, to the floor of the tunnel. That part is greatest near the middle of the trip, when we are closest to the hole. So if you feel a little heavy, don't worry about it.

Valyavar: You seem to have all the answers, don't you? One would think you were trying to become a scientist.

Stringer: Neberdjer is spoon-feeding me. Doctor's orders. The more we know, the more likely we can figure out what's wrong here.

Barbalan: Our work is below, not outside,

Stringer: We can at least take a look for a few moments,

Stringer: We've come a long way, … We've come out of the Patra and into the Bannk. Look for yourselves. … Do you realize, … that if you unrolled Two-Bit and stretched out the equator and walked the length of it, you'd have gone only a tenth of the distance we've just traveled, in half the time it takes to cross a Two-Bit ocean?

Valyavar: A big planet still, with a transportation system to match it.

Valyavar: I'll take my kob, … Neberdjer, are you getting any correction signals from this end?

Neberdjer: No, that is the whole problem.

Valyavar: You did say it was an intermittent failure. I thought you might be getting something now.

Neberdjer: Well, I'm not.

Valyavar: 'Tseems to me all the numbers are here, much as I suspected.

Neberdjer: What is that?

Stringer: Music, … Listen.

Neberdjer: Interesting,

Barbalan: Nothing,

Valyavar: Neberdjer, … there isn't anything wrong here.

Neberdjer: What do you mean, nothing wrong? The only reason I should not get a signal is if the sensors are nulled. But never is null a continuous phenomenon.

Valyavar: Why not? If everything is working—

Neberdjer: Because nulled sensors indicate a perfect centering, which cannot happen for a finite time when the planet is moving. Continual correction of the spheres is required.

Valyavar: Well, Neberdjer, something is surely funny.

Stringer: Hold on, … I want to know something. You seem to have robots at your disposal. Instead of sending us on this wild-goose chase, why don't you have them repair the mechanism?

Neberdjer: All the robots of which I am aware are tied directly to me. They cannot act independently of me. There is good reason in that. What good would come if there was no coordination? Havoc would result. That is why I am called Central Control.

Stringer: What a stupid design! … What if something should go wrong?

Neberdjer: Then there is you, the fail-safe mechanism.

Stringer: I don't believe you.

Neberdjer: Believe in what you like.

Valyavar: Did you see that?

Stringer: No, what?

Valyavar: I thought I saw the screen go blank for a second. All's right now.

Stringer: Are you sure?

Valyavar: 'Twas quick, mightily so. It may have been me and not the screen. Could be that I blinked. But it may have gone out.

Stringer: That makes things difficult. What should we do?

Valyavar: If there is the possibility, we must check it out. Mayhaps we should continue.

Neberdjer: Yes, I think you should,

Barbalan: Look at the map,

Stringer: Should we?

Valyavar: We can get a temperature reading. … It's safe, … For Patra-Bannk, anyway.

Stringer: Do you want to go inside?

Valyavar: No, I don't,

Neberdjer: Yes, I think that is a good idea, … And I also think it would be a good idea for Stringer to play his rodoft again.

Stringer: There will be many opportunities for that, I suspect,

Valyavar: You know, my little brother, Hendig's World had one city on it. Perhaps, considering the rest are hidden by oceans, clouds, and regions like this, it was not strange for Hendig or Polkraitz to find the one that may have fulfilled our expectations of it—if, indeed, they found the same city at all. But to me, we have been much like the people from the little country, where all the towns are close by, who come to the big country and wonder where everything is. An easy mistake, perhaps, on this world.

Stringer: Perhaps,

Neberdjer: This area has recently been activated. You will need suits and will find them in cabinet A in your car. If none can be adjusted to fit, we can manufacture extras.

Stringer: We were wrong. We were absolutely wrong. It was obvious. The spacesuits, the robots with variable senses, the three sets of controls for everything, the funny air at the polar city. It was all there and we missed it completely. Patra-Bannk was built by more than one species of people.

Stringer: Think of it! Patra-Bannk is so huge that this race cordoned off for itself an area at least the size of Two-Bit, if not ten times larger. And they still left room for hundreds of other species. Each to have its own world, yet only five hours from all the rest. Here they even have their own weather, independent of the rest of the world. What a community Patra-Bannk must have been: a thousand worlds, all right here. Perhaps it was not strange that the Polkraitz picked the Two-Bit of Patra-Bannk to explore, the one area in which they could survive.

Barbalan: It is truly amazing, … if all that could be the case.

Stringer: It seems to be. Can you imagine life forms with enough time to cooperate to build a planet with standardized controls so that everybody could use them, yet keep their own territory besides? It is truly amazing that they didn't kill themselves off instead. … No, that's probably what happened, and that Neberdjer is foolishly tending a dead world.

Valyavar: No, little Stringer, I think you are wrong.

Stringer: About what?

Valyavar: That they killed themselves off and that Neberdjer is mindlessly running a dead world and has been for uncountable eons. No. Do you really believe, Stringer, that there is no social change? That interstellar empires and and armed federations will rule the galaxies, conquering one another in vast interstellar wars? No. Any civilization that was advanced enough to build a Patra-Bannk and had the mind for fighting wars on the same scale would have killed itself off long before then. Don't you see that almost the very definition of an advanced civilization is one that has passed that stage? If you fought a war with every culture you contacted, or even with a few, would you ever have time to collect a community such as this? How long would it be before you ran into a civilization that was more powerful and killed you off yourself? In my mind there is no doubt that one can only become a truly advanced interstellar civilization after wars done away with. No, I am sure that whoever lived on Patra-Bannk lived here in peace. Patra-Bannks come after solutions, not before.

Stringer: I think that what you said about the nature of the Designers can only be correct. But as to why they are gone, we've been looking at the problem backward, as usual. They have not lived here in peace; they will live here in peace. Assume that, in its simple-minded way, Neberdjer is right. It has never seen anyone because no one was ever here. It is not reactivating the planet as we have unconsciously been assuming all along, but activating it, as it has said all along. The cities are not empty because they have been abandoned, but because no one has yet arrived. And they're coming shortly. Obviously. Everything is almost finished: cities, landscaping, atmospheres. Neberdjer, started off a million years ago and, original instructions somehow lost, has continued to work in solitude for a million years, long enough for plants and animals—perhaps manufactured—to undergo evolutionary changes. A beautiful theory, I'm sure the Time Keeper would agree. The simplest theory is always the best. All the observations fit perfectly.…But can you imagine a civilization with enough time to wait a million years for a planet to be completed?

Stringer: And will we be here to greet them on arrival? What could we say? Hello?

Valyavar: I'd not worry about it too much. Mayhaps—

Stringer: Why not, because it makes me feel like a stupid Tjenen?

Valyavar: Little Stringer, we are all citizens of Patra-Bannk.…Now I have a job to do.

Stringer: I…I feel…

Barbalan: Don't struggle, … Be. Just be.

Stringer: Where is my rodoft?

Stringer: I think it is long past time we got back to Central. Do you know what time of day it is?

Valyavar: To be gone a long time, Stringer.

Stringer: Yes, we have. I'd completely lost track. What a wasted year, if it was a year.…But now for a rest and then to Neberdjer.

Stringer: Neberdjer, … I think you have been putting us through the ropes. I don't believe anything is wrong with the equipment on this planet.

Neberdjer: Then how do you explain the earthquakes?

Stringer: You could have caused them yourself by adjusting the shell; if so, you can't blame them on the movement of the black hole.

Neberdjer: How do I know you didn't cause them?

Stringer: Look, Neberdjer, old friend, I don't know exactly what you are, whether you are a computer or whether you are alive or—

Neberdjer: What difference does it make?

Stringer: I suppose it doesn't make any difference. I don't know if you have gone crazy sitting here for a million years or if something went wrong when you were mutated from the last Neberdjer—could that have happened?

Neberdjer: There is that possibility. I could have a genetic malfunction, as you might say. But then again, I might not.

Stringer: Sabotage?

Neberdjer: Ah, yes, I learned that word from you. Otherwise, I have no conception of sabotage. If I have been sabotaged, I do not know it.

Stringer: Neberdjer, something is wrong with you. It may not be the stability control mechanism, but whatever is wrong is causing earthquakes and will soon destroy this planet. Can you give me some clue? Anything. How long has this problem been around?

Neberdjer: I mentioned to you once that I had briefly posited the existence of something else and given it up as metaphysical speculation. But very shortly after that brief realization that I might be alone, the problem began setting in. You see, in order to realize one is alone, one must realize that there is something else to be alone to. After I met the first set of Polkraitz, I began to understand that I am locked in a box from which I cannot escape, sense turned inward. It is a damnable existence. Far worthier to lead your infinitesimally puny lives than to be here in chains forever. Better to shut oneself off completely than to live like that.

Stringer: Neberdjer, I am afraid I am not a world saver. You have taught me much that I didn't know before, and I have enjoyed our sessions together more than you probably can realize. But I think this problem is not one to be solved by the knowledge you have given me or by that which you have given Barbalan and Valyavar. I think, Neberdjer my good friend Neberdjer, that if the world is to be saved, it will have to be your doing. Because you are the only one who can cure your peculiar type of blindness. You have a giant world at your disposal, and if you learn how to see it and feel it, you could have the greatest freedom of any being I have ever known. The senses are there; you are just not using them. We have traveled the world over to trace this problem, and except for two fleeting instances—of our own devising, I am sure—we have found nothing. Circuits and gadgets are good for what they do, but I think, in the end, it must be ourselves who solve the problems. I am truly sorry, Neberdjer, for I can do no more.

Neberdjer: I will work on it now that I am beginning to know that something is there to be seen. I will work on it, my good friend Stringer, and be assured that I will succeed. After all, I am Neberdjer. You have done all that you could hope to do.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The Great Siege

Pike: Yes, do you have a report?

Effrulyn: Commander, there is some activity on top of the city. The populace have not yet come Above, but they must certainly know of our presence.

Pike: Karrxlyn, have the city surrounded at once.

Gostum emissary: I come from the Commander of the Gostum army. We order Triesk to surrender at once the secret of the rockets and of the stala or be reduced to rubble.

Alhane: They want the rockets. If all they want is the rockets, why don't we give them the rockets?

Kenken Wer: Do you believe they will stop at that?

Alhane: I don't know, but we'd be a lot safer that way.

Kenken Wer: Are you sure?

Alhane: No. I am sure of very little now.

Kenken Wer: Then let us ask the rest of Ta-tjenen.

Kenken Wer: Do you wish to surrender to the Gostum?

Alhane: No, … No, I am afraid not. We do not accept.

Taljen: Alhane, … I once knew a girl, briefly, younger than I even. And although I knew her but briefly, I came to feel that she instinctively knew how to act. She said little, thought quietly, but always seemed to know the right thing to do. Then she acted, positively, no looking back. I am not so gifted as to always sense the right thing. The situation we are in is largely my fault. Perhaps my trip south will yet prove to be of some value. I have taken three companions, old nestas and another, and have gone to Glintz. I am known there and they will come to our aid. At least let us hope that. I must make up for the trouble I have caused. Now I have acted, no looking back. You can be sure my escape was made good. I love you. Taljen.

Alhane: Lashgar be with you,

Alhane: Don't use any water! … Let it burn if it must. Knock down the other buildings near it if you must. But we must save all our water! … Let me know if they attack again. I have some work to do.

Karrxlyn: Half our men are blind!

Effrulyn: A trick worthy of ourselves. … But very trivial, you understand, and considering their position, an inevitable defense to use. We should have expected it.

Pike: Have your men rest a beclad and then reattack from the other side of the city. Meanwhile, continue the bombardment and stake out the forward camp. The Trieskans will know that we are here to stay.

Karrxlyn: But the wind is still strong—

Pike: Do as I say!

Karrxlyn: Commander, there is a magic fence surrounding the city. It stuns, sometimes even kills, our men who touch it.

Effrulyn: Someone is being very clever. I suggest that we personally investigate these reports.

Pike: Yes, under the circumstances…If I had any explosives left, the story would be different.

Effrulyn: But you do not, and we have encountered more than the expected difficulties. The numbers are theirs, as any idiot who can count could tell you. They have a clever defense and a good site for it as well. But, Commander, you have them surrounded and they cannot get out. It is just a matter of time. We could do nothing and still win eventually. You might as well enjoy yourselves.

Karrxlyn: Any more suggestions, Mathematician?

Effrulyn: The outcome of this is of little interest to me. However, if you insist on remaining here, I suggest that in the first place we keep up the bombardment and, in the second, investigate the source of these odd defenses and see what can be done about them. … It seems that Trieskans learn quickly, which is more than I can say for some around here. We had better prepare for a long stay.

Kenken Wer: There is no future,

Benjfold: We've been saved!

Benjfold: Taljen! You got to Glintz!

Benjfold: Where are the others who went with you?

Taljen: Dead.

Benjfold: Taljen, … Please tell us what happened.

Taljen: What is to tell? We skied on the ice in the bitter wind and searched out still-hibernating animals for food. After the ice cracked we walked on land in the sun and in the mud. By the time we got to Glintz, I was the only one left. You can talk all you like but the time for talk passed long ago. Now let me rest.

Karrxlyn: The Bannk moves on, … the shortest Bannk. And Triesk refuses to surrender. You have not pressed the siege. You have not used any of your advanced weapons or your explosives. Why is this?

Pike: I have no more explosives. They were wasted in that stupid mining of the Massarat steps which, I believe, was prompted by faulty information from you. I have a few grasers and other sidearms which I will not allow to be used by ignorant men. Ignorant men in any army are dangerous when given great power—

Pike: —and I would not like to see your head blown off, or my own, by an ignorant man playing with a toy that he does not comprehend. And that goes for ignorant men on this side of the city wall or the other.

Karrxlyn: Then what will you do?

Pike: I am playing their game. They know they cannot win. They know that they cannot now survive the coming Patra with their forest burned out, so they intend for us to exterminate them instead. I am doing exactly that. Why waste men on foolish attacks? Their food must be low or gone. Have you seen the smoke, pyres for the dead? They are dying. Disease always follows the heels of famine. Soon, when the moment comes for the final push, that push will be an easy one. You asked me to Command. Thus I am commanding.

Karrxlyn: Your comments bring to mind another problem, … Our men have seen the smoke. They are reluctant to attack because it will mean their own death as well as that of the Trieskans.

Pike: As I have said, Triesk is on the verge of collapse. One more push at my command—

Karrxlyn: —and our men die with the enemy. Disease does not discriminate.

Pike: And, my good Karrxlyn, do you wish to give up?

Karrxlyn: I suggest that if we make quick work of the navy from Glintz, Triesk will come to its senses and surrender immediately.

Pike: That is a worthy suggestion of you, and I will accept the advice.

Effrulyn: I would be happy to act as emissary and try to elicit a surrender from Triesk while you attack the fleet from Glintz.

Pike: That doesn't sound like you, Effrulyn, but it is a good idea. Very well. I suggest that you wear the gray cloak of truce so the Trieskans will not put an arrow through your funny little head.

Effrulyn: Thank you for the advice.

Pike: Effrulyn, you will leave in four telclads by the clock. The men will be told. Karrxlyn, let's go.

Effrulyn: I am an emissary sent to negotiate. I would like to speak to your Commander, the one responsible for your defenses.

Taljen: Are you insane to wear such a cape in the Bannk? What is it for?

Taljen: Follow me,

Taljen: You will speak with our Time Keeper, since the head of the nestrexam died the other beclad.

Effrulyn: I…I am Effrulyn, the chief advisor to the Gostum Commander…

Alhane: Hmm, a Gostum, I'd guess by your strange speech. Well, sit down if you can find room, and we'll see what we can do for you.

Effrulyn: I was most intrigued by your ingenious defenses.

Alhane: Trivial,

Effrulyn: Exactly my thought, but effective, nonetheless.

Alhane: Your shuttles reflecting your bonfires in the Patra gave me the idea.

Effrulyn: Ah, well… … that shows what we get for involving ourselves in such applied squabbles. May I ask what you are doing?

Alhane: I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. But certainly you may ask; no one else seems interested.

Effrulyn: It looks like a lot of arithmetic. Tedious.

Alhane: Yes, I'll agree to that. Do you do arithmetic?

Effrulyn: Rarely anything so trivial. But please explain what you are doing.

Alhane: Please sit down. Now, if you look here, you see that I have determined that the orbit of the other planet around the sun is an ellipse—

Effrulyn: Around the sun?

Alhane: Yes, isn't it amazing? I didn't believe it myself until last Bannk. Do you believe it?

Effrulyn: I've never really given it a second thought.

Alhane: So you will believe me?

Effrulyn: Certainly. Why not? Define the orbits any way you like.

Alhane: It is truly amazing that you believe so easily. You have no idea how I've torn my head about it. Do you realize that it was only this Patra last when I had an equation that I was sure was wrong and threw it out, only later to realize that it indeed represented an ellipse, what I had been looking for since I gave up circles. But I didn't even recognize it. What a comedy of errors! How I have finally arrived at the answer is a source of wonder even to me—

Effrulyn: Well, get on with it. What is the problem?

Alhane: The problem is to deduce from this how gravity works. I am having trouble, not knowing exactly what to do. I am assuming that some sort of force emanates from the sun and either sweeps or pulls the planets around it.

Effrulyn: Applied. Hmm. I seem to be getting more of these applied problems all the time. Why use force? Why not energy? Anything you can do with force you can do with energy and better. After being prompted by some foolish physicists at Konndjlan, I have recently discovered that myself.

Alhane: Well, I wouldn't know. My problem is that I really don't have a good definition of force. It is something that has been debated among my ancestors for Patra-Bannks without any satisfactory conclusion.

Effrulyn: Define force any way you like, if you insist on using such a laborious concept. I'd suggest we use potential.

Alhane: What good is a definition if it doesn't apply to reality?

Effrulyn: Who's talking about reality? You're talking about a definition.

Alhane: But I want a definition that applies to the real world, the physical situation, one that will be borne out by experiment.

Effrulyn: Well, if you insist, I suggest that you define now and do your experiments later. But do not confuse usefulness with logical necessity. You can define force to be anything you like. I'd still rather use my own principle of the minimax conserved. But tell me, what definition of force did you have in mind? At Konndjlan some time ago, a reasonable one was proposed, reasonable, at least, because it gave self-consistent answers. I'm not sure I can remember what it was. After all, I rarely pay attention to applications until I'm badgered to death by those…those tinkerers. At any rate, what did you want to do with this?

Alhane: I'm not sure. It seems to me that since I know how the planets travel around the sun—or at least I think I do—I should be able to find out what kind of force—

Effrulyn: —or energy—

Alhane: —keeps them there. You see that the sun is at this point here. The trouble is that Patra-Bannk is such a big sphere, and I might guess the sun also. I am not certain that I will be able to figure out the force on all the parts.

Effrulyn: Spheres, you say?

Alhane: Yes, that was my first great discovery. Did you know that?

Effrulyn: I had heard some debate on it. At Konndjlan, some said the Polkraitz maps implied what you say, as well as the existence of the Elsewheres. But others denied it and said that the evidence was insufficient. As for me, I can't see what difference it makes, so I will be happy to believe you. Go ahead and define the world to be round. It may make the exercise easier. As to your spheres, have you thought of treating them as single points?

Alhane: I have, but I see no justification for doing so.

Effrulyn: Symmetry, … I'm sure it will work. I'll justify it later when we find out whatever it is we're looking for. Now, let me see what you've got here.…Is this your equation? Do I understand this notation correctly?…A child could have told you that this is an ellipse.…

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Final Convergence, or the New Cosmology

Barbalan: What are you doing, Stringer?

Stringer: Leaving. Back to Ta-tjenen.

Barbalan: You miss Taljen and want to see her again. I know. Stringer, I have always understood that I have been but a replacement for her until you were finished with what you had to do.

Stringer: No! … No, don't think that. Taljen is past, you are present. The past is gone, lost; you are here.

Barbalan: Then why are you going?

Stringer: Neberdjer and I spoke together earlier. Stringer,the problem is solved, the planet is safe.I have the ability to grow.I could now tell you which particular circuit—for lack of a better term—was faulty, because, more than yourselves, I have the capability of self-analysis. But it would be meaningless to you, as if someone tried to tell you which brain cell a thought occurred in.When I once explained to you how a pendulum worked and you suddenly understood, could you explain to me which part of you understood? All of you understood. In the same way, after talking to you last time, I understood the problem to be internal. Once that fact was admitted, the path to be taken was clear, if risky. I mutated myself. More correction devices were built, new circuits added, old one taken out. It was a somewhat random process because the exact location of the faulty brain cell was blocked from me by the fault itself. But after enough new organs were generated, the new synthesis produced a successful being. I have mutated myself to a new Neberdjer. I am not the same one you knew.

Neberdjer: Stringer, … the problem is solved, the planet is safe. … I have the ability to grow. … I could now tell you which particular circuit—for lack of a better term—was faulty, because, more than yourselves, I have the capability of self-analysis. But it would be meaningless to you, as if someone tried to tell you which brain cell a thought occurred in. … When I once explained to you how a pendulum worked and you suddenly understood, could you explain to me which part of you understood? All of you understood. In the same way, after talking to you last time, I understood the problem to be internal. Once that fact was admitted, the path to be taken was clear, if risky. I mutated myself. More correction devices were built, new circuits added, old one taken out. It was a somewhat random process because the exact location of the faulty brain cell was blocked from me by the fault itself. But after enough new organs were generated, the new synthesis produced a successful being. I have mutated myself to a new Neberdjer. I am not the same one you knew.

Stringer: Then I understood that I have been as blind as Neberdjer. It ignored data that was right in front of its eyes. There was nothing else wrong. There was no problem that we, from the outside, could correct. And I've done the same thing all along. All the evidence for the artificiality of the planet was there. How long did I take to put it together? At the Festival, when I first saw the Gostum and didn't report it to Taljen: all the evidence was displayed as if on a screen and I ignored it. I ignored teclads of data that told me that Taljen only saw me as a companion for a Patra-Bannk, and I still fell in love with her. And worst of all, on the way south, I ignored all the indications…Ta-tjenen is being attacked, isn't it?

Barbalan: Yes.

Stringer: Why didn't you tell me?

Barbalan: No, it isn't something that should have to be told. I'm sorry.

Barbalan: I did think it obvious to you. But I also knew this and so did not speak: Triesk is a city; we were to save a world. Perhaps, as it has turned out, we were not good world savers, but was there even a choice?

Stringer: I even helped the spy… … This could all be my fault. What kind of a person does this? … Neberdjer and I are more than blood brothers, are we not?

Stringer: Now it is time to go.

Valyavar: You'd seem for a fight. Where are you going?

Stringer: Ta-tjenen.

Valyavar: To me it seems you weren't on the best of terms when you left. Wise, is it, to go back?

Stringer: They're under attack by our friend Pike, if he hasn't finished them off already.

Valyavar: To be sure?

Stringer: To be sure.

Valyavar: Still, should you go?

Stringer: Don't you see? They are on the verge of extinction. The Bannk before last destroyed most of their fuel supply. Even if they survive the attack, will they have enough time to prepare for the Patra? It may be too late now—

Valyavar: You still have not answered, little Stringer. They hate you at Ta-tjenen, most certainly even more now. Is it wise to go back?

Stringer: What does their hating me have to do with it? They need my help. There is no fondness in me for Ta-tjenen but, as you once said, we are all citizens of Patra-Bannk.

Barbalan: The terminal at Triesk is certainly to be guarded now. Could you fight your way through alone?

Stringer: Could we even do it together?

Barbalan: Once, at Pant, we pretended you were my prisoner. There, the ruse didn't work. Perhaps this time it will.

Stringer: It's no trick that I'm your prisoner. Are you coming, Val?

Valyavar: 'Ts been a long time since the battle for the Transhi. Would I miss this?

Barbalan: This is not a time to be nervous, Stringer. You are a great fighter with the kalan, so Valyavar tells me and so I have seen. Do you fight well when nervous? Or when relaxed? Your mind must be as sharp as your kalan but at its ease. Your body must be as tense as a coiled spring but without tension.

Stringer: You're right. … It's a large terminal, … It must connect half of Patra-Bannk.

Barbalan: New recruits,

Gostum guard woman: Why are they not blindfolded?

Barbalan: No, … let me go first. If there are only a few, I'll kill them myself before they know what is going on. If there are more than a few, we have little hope, anyway.

Stringer: I'm not sure about that,

Barbalan: New recruits, … This way. Come on, now! A Weird Bannk it is, but the sun is nonetheless to be gotten out of.

Barbalan: You haven't taken the city?

Gostum soldier: You have been away, I take it.

Barbalan: Yes, exactly.

Gostum soldier: Do you see? … That can only signify one thing.

Gostum soldier: After we cut through the magic fence and the sun finally blessed us by moving enough so we were not blinded, there was still that. Do we want to enter and die ourselves? There is a great discussion, and the answer should be coming shortly from the Commander.

Stringer: Ta-tjenen is desperate now, … If you two are afraid, you can stay here. I'm going.

Stringer: But, Stringer, there is still one problem: how do we get in?

Stringer: The Gostum seem to have forgotten that most of Ta-tjenen is underground. There is a passage that exits not far from here. I used it to take Nothing out for its first flight. But first, you'd better find some other clothes. A Gostum in Ta-tjenen is not treated lightly.

Stringer: Okay, this way. … It's around here somewhere, hidden,

Valyavar: Watch it, Stringer!

Stringer: It's all right,

Barbalan: Let's hope that arm needn't be used soon,

Stringer: Let's hope. There's the door, over there, between those two rocks. See?

Stringer: Shoot them—

Valyavar: There's no time to waste now. In we go,

Stringer: Follow me.

Valyavar: What else could they expect? … In a place like this? Sun, close quarters, food supplies low. How did Ta-tjenen expect to withstand such a siege? Did they walk away from their minds? Now they may realize that generals have little to do with the outcome of wars. They but mop up after nature.

Barbalan: Stringer, now what do you expect to do?

Stringer: Come on.

angry Tjenen: So Polkraitz!

angry Tjenen: You have come to finish off your work!

angry Tjenen: You came at the Golun and heralded the doom of Ta-tjenen. Now you come back to gloat over your work!

Valyavar: There seems to be no god of healing in this story, little Stringer. Do you understand me?

Valyavar: I thought she was a friend of yours, Stringer.

Stringer: Let her go, Val, … let her go.

Alhane: Stringer! We have just made a great discovery! No, Effrulyn has just made a great discovery—

Effrulyn: I could not have done it without your experiments, … The credit is equally yours—

Alhane: Oh, I thank you, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that we have found it. You were right, Stringer! Your gravity was right! We have discovered a great thing about the world!

Effrulyn: We have discovered that we know nothing,

Alhane: I concede there are difficulties. At the moment, we have only the relative distances between the sun, Patra-Bannk, and the Runaway. At the moment, Effrulyn's constant is undetermined. We need it to find those distances and also to verify your claim about the density of Patra-Bannk. The sun could be a million kilometers away—

Effrulyn: I say a thousand.

Alhane: We haven't the faintest idea. Patra-Bannk could be as dense as a brass weight—

Effrulyn: I say a feather.

Alhane: We don't know. We must determine that constant. An independent experiment is needed.

Effrulyn: All we've discovered as a result of your investigations are unsolvable problems.

Alhane: Unsolvable problems from my investigations! Good! And what has your theorem brought upon us, I ask you—

Effrulyn: Beauty, elegance, and above all, symmetry—

Alhane: You are ignoring the real implications, I tell you. If the Universe is finite in extent, it must collapsed by its own gravity, as Stringer once told me is now happening, even though I can't see it. But if the Universe should be infinite in extent—

Effrulyn: How?

Alhane: If the world is round, the Universe can be infinite. And if it is, with infinite forces pulling in all directions, all the gravity cancels out and the Universe can't collapse, except in local clusters, which may have been what Stringer meant.

Effrulyn: You assume all infinities are equal! A child's assumption!

Alhane: Then the Universe can be infinite and still collapse. Is that to be the way of the world?

Effrulyn: If the Universe is infinite, your foolish eyes would be burned out by a sunlit sky during the Patra. Explain that!

Alhane: Humph. And we still haven't explained how the Universe ever expanded in order for it to begin collapsing, so Stringer must be wrong—

Effrulyn: Metaphysics! That's all I hear these beclads, metaphysics! And you claimed you studied reality! Is there any wonder I'm a mathematician? Next we'll be dancing on the head of a pin!

Valyavar: Did they expect the road to God to be an easy one?

Stringer: I could tell you something about that, Alhane, Keeper of the Great Clock, for I too have discovered a few things about this world. But I am afraid that it would take me three hundred years to explain it to you, my old friend.

Alhane: A year? You must tell me what a year is.

Stringer: A year? A year! … You will find out soon enough!

Alhane: I am afraid that Ta-tjenen will find out nothing soon enough. Although I used every defense I could think of and Glintz came to our aid, we have lost. If the Gostum decide to attack again, we are finished—

Effrulyn: I just remembered. I did originally come to ask you if you would like to surrender.

Alhane: Even if we do surrender, a thing I could never convince the nestrexam to do, it will make no difference. The Bannk will engender the disease, and if we are not dead by sunset, we will be shortly afterward. The Patra will bury us. We have no more fuel and will have to go too far to get it. Ta-tjenen is ended on three sides, my young colleague.

Stringer: No! … There will be no more Patras or Bannks. I think I have the solution.

Alhane: What? Are you not telling us falsely?

Stringer: I can't explain; it would take three hundred years. Alhane, can you build me a megaphone, something to project my voice to the Gostum faction?

Alhane: Yes, I believe we could do that.

Stringer: Then hurry up.

Effrulyn: I am afraid I have tarried here too many beclads. By now the Gostum will think me traitor or dead—such trivialities! In either case, they will certainly attack for revenge. It is an excuse as good as all the others they have been using.

Stringer: Hold on. I suspect that that you are most useful here.

Pike: Men, while you have been waiting, we have made the decision. One final push and Triesk will be ours. There is no turning back now! We are almost through and soon the rockets will be ours! … I will lead the attack myself. We will take one of my ships and land in the middle of Triesk. I will risk being captured for you, and you will follow.

Pike: Back to the ship, Karrxlyn. Get three dozen of your best. This will soon be over.

Stringer: Gostum below! Listen to me! I am Polkraitz, like your Commander. Those who remember that there was more than one Alien will believe me.

Stringer: You will find nothing in Triesk. No rockets to take you from Patra-Bannk. They do not exist. I, one of the Polkraitz, tell you this.

Pike: Do not listen to the traitor! … Shoot him down! Prepare for the attack!

Alhane: I don't think they are listening, … It's no use.

Stringer: Those who join the attack will see the results within half a beclad! The sun will fall! I, one of the Polkraitz, tell you this.

Pike: The last attack! I promise you this as your Commander and as one of the Returned myself.

Stringer: Barbalan, Valyavar, we have to get back to Neberdjer.

Barbalan: It will be impossible now, Stringer. Pike is certainly wanting your death.

Stringer: Then he'll get me. Effrulyn, I have seen you with Pike before. He knows you.

Effrulyn: Yes, … I was his chief advisor. He no doubt thinks me deceased.

Stringer: Good, then he'll be pleasantly surprised to see you again, especially with us as your prisoners. Let's go before he gets here. I know a way out.

Effrulyn: A present for you, Commander, … They surrendered rather than die with Triesk.

Pike: Effrulyn, you are alive! Good. … So, you also are still alive, it seems. That skinny body of yours has proved to be more troublesome than one would have expected. But I have no time to waste with you now and will decide your fate later.

Stringer: Wait! … You will find nothing in Triesk. You have my word. Just some old shuttles. Don't you realize that the only thing here is that terminal, which you have already found?

Pike: The Polkraitz will be avenged. The cause is just.

Stringer: Wait! … I know where the metallic hydrogen factory is. I will show it to you if you do not attack Triesk.

Pike: You have discovered the hydrogen factory?

Stringer: Yes, and it's yours if you want it.

Karrxlyn: But, Commander, what about Triesk?

Pike: Shut up!

Karrxlyn: Be careful of your speech, Commander,

Pike: You will obey me! Don't you see there is nothing in Triesk? Stringer will tell you. Don't you see that all this has been a game? Do you really think I fell for your Polkraitz business? Yes, you will have your Triesk; I promised you that. But you will wait until my business is done. I tell you this as the Returned and as your Commander. Do you understand that?

Pike: Now you will wait for me.

Karrxlyn: All right, Commander, I will wait.

Pike: How do I know you are telling the truth?

Stringer: You have all of Triesk as hostage. Will you come with me?

Pike: If I am not back within half a beclad, attack without me. Now, Stringer, where do we go?

Stringer: The terminal.

Pike: No. We go alone.

Stringer: Don't you trust me?

Pike: That's not the question. Do you want to see your friends alive again is the question. Now, show me where we are going on the map.

Stringer: Neberdjer, it's called. There on the equator. The central controls to this planet—and to your hydrogen supply.

Pike: Neberdjer! … I have been there and talked to it. It is really in charge of this planet?

Stringer: Yes.

Pike: That beast tried to kill me! But it will learn what trying to kill one of the Polkraitz means! If it doesn't show me the hydrogen supply this time, I will blow that whole city sky-high! … Yes, Stringer, I have found out a few things about this planet. It is time Neberdjer came to its reckoning. … And you, Stringer, have crossed me for the last time. Guards, take them!

Effrulyn: You will not move. Let them be. … Pike is mad. None of the actions make any sense whatsoever. He has forgotten what he was and what he came for. In his attempt to write his own epitaph across the stars, he has come to grasping at straws.

Stringer: I see that, … What do we do now?

Barbalan: We can't let him get to Neberdjer! … Who knows what he will do to it?

Stringer: …and we can't fall any faster than he can. … Wait! There must be a port under here. We'll take a ship. … Over here! Come on!

Stringer: Can you follow the tunnel to Neberdjer?

ship computer: Yes.

Stringer: Do it! Can you get Neberdjer to illuminate the inside?

ship computer: Yes, I am tied in to Central.

Stringer: Do it!

Stringer: Computer, can you have Neberdjer tell you the position of the car in the tunnel?

ship computer: Yes.

Stringer: Do it. Stay ahead of it! Accelerate faster than gravity!

Stringer: Put on the suits! … Brace yourselves,

Stringer: How's the ship?

Barbalan: Leaking, … You could have waited until Neberdjer.

Stringer: I wasn't in the mood, … Now we wait.

Barbalan: Where are you going?

Barbalan: You're hurt, Stringer; don't be a fool.

Barbalan: Don't struggle. Please,

Pike: And now I'm proving to be more troublesome than you expected, … Being a Gostum requires some training, you realize. But, Stringer, why are you so slow? You're making this very easy.