Needle, page 29
Pasha turned back, sounding scandalized. *Let me talk!
*It’s true, though, Urban said, gesturing at Pasha to keep moving. He followed her, out along a hand line toward the hangar’s edge where darkness yielded to a sea of blazing stars. *That’s why we’re here.
Nioro moved closer to meet them. Still a silhouette, his long-fingered hand reached out to touch Urban’s shoulder in the same companionable gesture so common among the people of Volo’s Landing. He said, *You’re the master of the great ship, the one who originally captured it. I hoped I’d have a chance to meet you.
Urban didn’t think it was just flattery, or an attempt to avoid discussing Prakruti. No, he heard awe in Nioro’s voice, and gauged he might make use of that. *Yes. Dragon was an enemy vessel, but it’s mine now.
*I’ve studied it through my scope. There’s nothing at all like it in the library.
*No, there wouldn’t be.
*Because it’s alien.
*Yes.
Nioro spoke with a sense of wonder. *So there are intelligent beings out there, besides us.
*There were others, but none still living that I ever found. Ships like Dragon are all that’s left—intelligent weapons that far outlived their creators.
*Ah, so many wonders to unravel. He turned to take in Jolly and the Cryptologist, though surely he could see only shadows. *I’m sorry you’ve encountered an issue with our library. Caution on the part of our council, no doubt. I am looking forward to the eventual exchange of libraries. I know I’ll be busy for years, studying yours.
Time to re-center the dialog. Urban said, *We understand Ezo is unapproachable. But there seems to be a veil of secrecy around Prakruti too. Something about that world concerns the council. Luk Li Mithki made a point of telling me it was best studied from afar. Pasha suggested you might be able to tell us more.
Nioro had been adrift, but now his silhouette slowly sank until his feet touched the deck. He spoke carefully, as if feeling his way through a verbal maze. *There are . . . uncertainties.
*Such as?
*Did Luk tell you that Prakruti is a wild planet?
*Yes, he used that term.
*Well, it’s not quite right. Prakruti isn’t wild in the true sense of the word. It’s more a tended wilderness. A wild garden. This is not general knowledge and I know the council would prefer I didn’t speak of it . . . but you mean to visit Prakruti, don’t you?
Pasha answered this. *It’s true. We do. We’re here to explore, Nioro.
*I understand, and I envy you.
Urban pressed for details. *What do you know, Nioro? Why call Prakruti a garden?
He answered, *It’s nothing certain, but there are suggestive details . . . like seasonal fires that begin to burn without any hint of lightning or lava, that rejuvenate forest undergrowth or maintain open grassland. And it’s common to see estuaries laced with channels and sloughs that shift inexplicably, season by season, to keep a balance between marshland and open water. And in the polar regions, irregular algae blooms appear to be an effective control against the spread of the ice caps.
Pasha spoke softly, *But no one’s there. Right?
Nioro hesitated. *Well . . . we don’t really know. I mean, there must be something. A system of bots? That’s my suspicion. Probably organic, operating intermittently so the original survey missed them. And too small for my telescope to pick out past all the atmospheric distortions.
*I have read about you and I have read your writings, the Cryptologist declared. *You are eager to visit Prakruti.
He laughed. *I would love to visit Prakruti! But it’s not something the council will approve.
*But why not? Pasha asked, frustration in her voice. *Wasn’t the first expedition a success? And if there is an intelligent system abiding there, aren’t you curious to know its nature?
*Ah, Pasha, you know I am, but the council feels differently. A light flashed on in Nioro’s hand. Its ruby glow revealed the fat cylinder of the telescope, but it also illuminated Nioro’s face: dark eyes behind protective lenses, and a light-colored kisheer veiling his mouth and nose. As he began to pack the telescope away within a protective shell, he asked, *Have you heard the ancient aphorism, ‘Don’t rock the boat’?
Out of habit, Urban sent a useless query to Argo’s library, while the Cryptologist tried to work out the meaning. She said, *A boat is a device used under conditions of planetary gravity, to achieve dry buoyancy on a large body of water. Is this a riddle? What could you know of boats?
Nioro answered with a self-deprecating laugh. *Only what I’ve seen in dramas. But should you ever find yourself seated in a small, shallow, open boat, be aware that rocking it is not a good idea. Should water spill in, the boat could lose its buoyancy and sink. The aphorism is a metaphor for inducing one’s own disaster. Our council feels we should not rock any metaphorical boat. Ezo was denied to us, but we were given the materials to create Nara and we have lived here peacefully since. The council believes we should stay here, that we should not risk conflict by interfering with the processes governing Prakruti. If our population ever grows so great that we need more room, we will reach outward, mine the old ruins on the edge of the system, and use that material to build a second city. But we will take nothing from the world . . . because the council is afflicted with a fear that if we rock the boat—if another expedition should visit Prakruti and disturb in some unknown and unpredictable way a remnant intelligence that may still exist there—disaster might follow.
*No, we are wanted there, Jolly said.
Urban shot the kid a sharp look, only to realize he’d used a private channel.
It was Pasha who filled the silence of the shared connection: *Nioro, if there are records hidden in the library detailing what is known of Prakruti, we would be grateful to see them.
Finished now with packing up the telescope, Nioro turned to her, his eyes grave in the ruby light. *I know our council deeply desires your friendship. I will put your request quietly to them. I think they must grant it. It would rock the boat in a most unpleasant way if their censorship became known.
<><><>
The red light hardly reached a meter, leaving Jolly and the Cryptologist in darkness. Jolly held her hand, the trembling pressure of her impatience palpable through the reactive fabric of their gloves.
She had an idea. He knew it. She must have found some critical fact during her explorations in the library, a fact she had not shared. As they followed Nioro from the hangar, he squeezed her hand, a signal to remind her he was there and that he meant to stay with her. She surprised him by squeezing his hand twice in return. It could have meant anything, but he took it to mean, Be ready.
His heart boomed in his ears. He knew her determination. She didn’t want to waste time in Nara. She wanted to reach the river shrine. And though he could guess what she had in mind to do, the “how” of it eluded him—although it had to have something to do with Nioro.
Still holding hands, they slipped together through the gel membrane and back into atmosphere. Their hoods unfurled. Pasha and Urban had already moved on with Nioro. The Cryptologist looked at Jolly, a question in her bright eyes. He didn’t hesitate. Whatever she meant to do, he had to be part of it, so he nodded his blind agreement.
She smiled, and then called out, “Nioro, could you answer one question for me?”
Letting go of Jolly’s hand, the Cryptologist pulled her library tablet from a thigh pocket, unfolded it, and tapped the screen as Nioro returned to meet her.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, his gray kisheer now rippling at his shoulders.
Jolly tried to work out what she was up to as she handed him the tablet, saying, “This image was taken from low orbit.”
Nioro held the tablet. He gazed at the screen. The light it cast on his face dimmed, then brightened. “Ah, yes! These concentric circles are intriguing, aren’t they? They’re on the southern continent. I believe they’re natural . . . well, as natural as anything on Prakruti can be. A product of subsidence.”
He started to pass the tablet back, but Pasha intercepted it. Frowned at the image. Then looked up at Nioro. “Do you have a satellite in orbit? We didn’t detect one.”
“No, no permanent satellite. This image was taken from Bean Pod, our old survey vessel, during the sixth centennial orbital mapping—twenty-two years ago now.” He laughed. “I just have to wait another seventy-eight years until the council lets me take Bean Pod out again.”
Bean Pod! The Narans little two-person survey craft. Jolly had guessed Bean Pod to be the Cryptologist’s target. He didn’t understand her maneuver with the tablet, but he was sure something significant had just happened. She confirmed it when she met his gaze with a slight, satisfied smile.
Jolly reached for the tablet. “May I see it?” he asked, his voice a squeak of tension.
Pasha gave him an odd look, but passed the tablet to him. He gave it a superficial glance. Then folded it. Pocketed it. Hiding the evidence.
“I’m tired,” he said. He turned to the Cryptologist. “Do you want to go back with me? Get some sleep?”
“Yes,” she agreed with a radiant smile. “I love to sleep with you.”
Chapter
40
“Why Nioro?” Jolly whispered in the dark, his lips brushing the Cryptologist’s ear, tension unwound, the sweat of love-making still drying on his skin.
Her cautious answer came by message: *They may be listening.
“Oh.” The comfort of the sweet darkness and their shared bed faded. He tensed, senses alert, but heard nothing except the Cryptologist’s soft breathing and the slow beat of his heart. No sounds reached them from the other rooms attached to the suite where the delegation was housed.
She shifted, propping herself on an elbow, leaning in to kiss his lips. He kissed her in return while she messaged him again: *Nioro told you why. He was the last to take Bean Pod out, and his authorization to do so was never rescinded.
Jolly pulled back. Not far. His lips brushed hers as he whispered, “How could you know that?”
*I learned about the centennial survey in the library. I guessed about the authorization—but I was right.
This time, he responded in silence. *Nioro is not going to let us use Bean Pod.
*I am Nioro, she said, with a little audible laugh.
*You stole his credentials?
*Not exactly. I armed the library tablet with a stealth DI. When Nioro held it in his hands, the librarian logged him as the user and my DI now operates under his authority. It has found its way to Bean Pod. A refueling operation is underway. I’ll need to leave very soon. Do you want to come with me?
Guilt closed his throat. Fear knotted around his heart. But he had to do this. He had to. And the Cryptologist had made it so easy—because Urban would not be with them. Bean Pod only had room for two. He breathed deeply, slowly, calming himself. And then he whispered, “Of course I do. It’s why I’m here.”
She smiled. *Then we should go.
It was early. City dawn had not yet come and the suite’s common room was empty. No one there to question why the Cryptologist ordered a sackful of sealed rations from the fabricator, and two large flasks of water.
Just before they left, Jolly asked, “You have the needle, right?”
She smiled. Her fingers brushed a thigh pocket. “I have it.”
They found Nara’s hallways to be as empty as the common room, enabling them to reach the transit station with no questions asked.
They did encounter a few Narans at the station. The Cryptologist only smiled and nodded, but Jolly talked to them. He learned they were bound for the docks, eager to return to their work of preparing the ancient shuttle for its imminent journey to Volo’s Landing.
He told them, “We’re going to the docks too. We visited Nioro there earlier, and I left my tablet in the empty hangar. I’m going back to get it.”
The lie came so easily, it shocked him. It shocked him more when the Narans didn’t question him. He didn’t want to become skilled at lying.
A single transit car took everyone to the docks. Jolly said goodbye to the Narans as they entered the shuttle’s hangar. Then he moved on, hand in hand with the Cryptologist, to the adjacent hangar where Bean Pod was housed. No one was in sight—but the hangar door was closed.
“Do you know how to open it?” Jolly whispered.
She smiled and said again, *I am Nioro.
So it seemed. As she approached the door, it recognized her, and opened. They hurried through into a well-lit, pressurized hangar where a tiny white-winged vessel awaited them.
The hangar door closed behind them, sealing off any chance discovery.
<><><>
Urban’s hands trembled with barely contained fury.
For all his life, he had kept watch for Chenzeme marauders. From the day he’d captured Dragon, he’d endlessly surveyed the Near Vicinity. But the Narans kept no watch. None at all!
Oh, he could understand how they’d grown so absurdly complacent. They had lived undisturbed for so long that they’d come to believe themselves safely alone. So why keep watch? Their city generated no traffic, so there was no need for traffic control. And given the utter emptiness of Tanjiri’s inner system, they had no reason to expend resources surveying for hazardous asteroids or drifting debris that simply did not exist.
Theirs was a closed world, and that had allowed Jolly and the Cryptologist to disappear, their fate unknown until a citywide search led to the discovery that Bean Pod was missing.
The little survey craft had slipped away from the city—and no one had noticed!
Luk Li Mithki had been the bearer of this news. He stood in the suite, his green and gold kisheer trembling with indignation and his cold gaze fixed on Urban as the remaining Dragoneers crowded anxiously around. He told them, “We have no proof your missing people are aboard, but we have no other explanation for the vessel’s absence.” Crisp words, harshly spoken, conveying outrage and wary fear. He understood he was dealing with an opponent far more powerful than his own people. The taking of Bean Pod had proved that.
“They’re aboard,” Urban answered bitterly. “But not with our consent. They’ve done this on their own.”
Clemantine drew the councilor’s gaze when she asked, in a more conciliatory tone, “Have you tried communicating with them?”
“Of course we have! And we continue to do so, but without reply. Do you know where they are going?”
From the Dragoneers, a chorus of knowing hums and sighs. No one directly gave away the existence of the river shrine, but every one of them knew exactly where Bean Pod was bound. Urban’s hand knotted into a fist. He would recall Argo if he could, go after Jolly. But Argo had to reach Dragon and refuel before it could turn around.
Did Jolly know the significance of the shrine?
Of course he did!
Urban’s chest tightened with the realization that he’d been outplayed. He had seen the river shrine through Wailoa’s eyes—and had not reported that vision. He had not wanted to share it because the invitation and the obligation were meant for him alone. Or so he’d believed.
Obvious now that Jolly had seen the river shrine too, and that he’d recruited the Cryptologist to help him reach it first. He would take Urban’s place and be the one—the only one—to risk that gateway to Ezo. And with Argo away, what chance did Urban have to stop him?
All this—a tangled knot of furious thought—bundled into a moment. A moment later, he knew what he had to do.
“We do know where they’re going,” he announced. Stern words that drew a fresh murmur from the Dragoneers. But the time for secrecy had passed.
Clemantine knew it too. She nodded, crossed her arms, raised her chin, and looked down at Luk Li Mithki, intimidating in her height and strength. “You Narans are not so alone in this system as you’d like us to believe, are you, Councilor?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. There is a presence inhabiting this system. And I don’t mean your cousins at Volo’s Landing. There is something else. Something still undefined. Not human, but human descended.” She did not mention Nioro’s name, but insisted, “You know this. It’s why you don’t allow expeditions planetside.”
Silence, but for the beating of Urban’s heart. The delegation stood frozen, every breath held as several seconds slipped past—
And then the councilor wilted. A downcast face, a slumped spine, his kisheer dead-still against rounded shoulders. “Don’t speak of it,” he pleaded in a lowered voice as a rosy flush brightened the pale yellow scales of his face. “Not outside this room. If it’s true . . . Is it true?”
His wide, frightened eyes asked Clemantine to back off her claim, to please, please demote it to unproven speculation.
“It is true,” she said. “There is a great intelligence here.”
“A web of intelligences,” Urban said. “But you knew that.”
“Only the council knows. All members, past and present, sworn to secrecy. And Nioro Kwan—I know you’ve met him—he’s worked it out. Was he the one who—”
Urban cut him off. “We knew it from the time we entered the system.”
“Ah, I see. And now I ask, I plead for your silence, because if people knew, they would panic. We have not forgotten what happened at Sakura when some great force consumed the minds of our people. Our ancestors were the only ones to escape. A few thousand, out of a million lost.”
“This is different,” Urban said.
But then he frowned, wondering, was it? Lezuri had arisen from a swarm of minds somewhere among the cloaked stars of the Hallowed Vasties. Ezo surely had a similar origin.
“Ezo is different,” he insisted, as much to himself as to Luk Li Mithki. “You know that. You’ve lived here centuries, thrived here.”
“Until now,” the man answered bitterly. “Until you came, and violated our trust. You said you knew where these two rogue personnel are going?”
