“One of the exhibits here,” she explained. “It’s really fascinating. Makes a CD-ROM player look like blackboard and chalk. You put this thing against your head, and I don’t know exactly how it works, but it does. Direct cerebral induction?”
“Direct cerebral…,” he hesitated. “Where’d you hear about that?”
“Read it in a magazine once. Or maybe I mentioned it in an old report. I’m not sure.” She laughed. “I guess it doesn’t improve your memory. But you sure learn a lot, and fast. You press your forehead against this cushion, say something and suddenly the translation’s right there in your mind. The important thing is, when you step back from the machinery, the information stays with you. You could say I kind of stumbled into it. My head hit the pickup, or whatever it is, and I reacted instinctively. So the first words I learned in Cocytan were naughty ones.”
This was convenient timing, Low thought to himself.
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t work on you also, Boston,” she went on. “Although I’ve had some experience with other languages. Maybe it helps me to learn faster. Again, I don’t know. Wish I’d had one of these when I was a grad student at UCLA. It beats the hell out of the language lab.”
“It’s one thing to learn a language,” he told her. “Speaking it is something else. Our new host has a pretty deep voice and tends to growl a lot of words. Do you think your throat can make the necessary sounds?”
A tiny green LED atop the communicator flashed as she responded. “No problem. I’ve been talking back to the Educator, as I’ve come to call it. Tone doesn’t seem to be as important as elocution. I think I can grunt with the best of ’em. Now, what’s all this ‘life crystal’ business?”
“It’s be easier to explain in person. I’ll meet you back by the ceiling collapse. If I don’t show up, don’t wait around for me.”
There was sudden concern in her voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I had some trouble getting this far. I may have more on the way out. Nothing you can do about it. Just make sure that you’re there.”
“Boston?” Her tone mellowed. “I’m sorry about stomping off like that. I was angry, and frustrated, and scared, and a whole lot of other things all mixed up together. The only way I know to handle turmoil like that is to get off by myself so I can think. It worked for me in Namibia and China, so I thought it would work here.”
“Forget it.”
“Thanks. You know, I’m almost as famous for my temper as for my reporting.”
“Now you can be famous for your translating ability.”
“What about this native? Will it wait around for us to come back?”
Low glanced at the Cocytan. It was ignoring him, engrossed in its surroundings. “I don’t know. If it tries to follow me out, I’m certainly not going to object. On the other hand, there’s nothing to be gained by trying to coerce it. It’s a lot bigger than me and I have the feeling it wouldn’t take too kindly to an insistent push.
“As for how long it will stay revived, I can’t say. It’s been dead a lot longer than Ludger.”
Her tone was incredulous. “Brink’s alive?”
“Yeah, I revived him too. Why so surprised? You absorb an ancient alien tongue in a few hours, and I learn how to bring back the dead. Maybe tomorrow we’ll work on antigravity and immortality. It would help a lot if we could ask this entity a few questions.”
“That’s what I do best,” she replied. “Okay, I’ll meet you by the rubble pile. I’m starting out right now.”
“Good. Oh, and if you run into Ludger, go easy with him.”
“Say again?”
“Just don’t upset him. These life crystals have become something of an obsession with him. He’s not acting right.”
“Don’t worry about me, Boston. I’m an old pro at humoring the eccentric.”
“Just letting you know. Also, keep this channel open and your communicator on. We’ll worry about the battery power later. I don’t want to lose track of you again. I think it’s important that we keep in contact from now on.”
“Roger. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say now?”
“Only if you want to talk to somebody named Roger.” He couldn’t keep from smiling. “See you in a little while.”
The fact that no appropriately snide comment was forthcoming assured him she was on her way. Which meant it was time for him to get moving as well. Hooking the communicator back onto his belt, he eyed the Cocytan as he started for the passageway.
“Listen, if you could just stay here until I return? I’m coming back with a friend who might be able to talk to you. There are many questions we’d very much like to ask you.” Frustrated, he did his best to explain with his hands.
Cocytan eyes tracked the movements but gave no hint of understanding. Words emerged from the beaked mouth, elegant and incomprehensible.
“Yeah, sure.” Low was backing into the tunnel. “You stay right there, now.” With that final admonition, he turned and hurried off up the passageway.
Halfway through, he plucked the communicator from his belt. “You still there, Maggie?”
“I’m on my way, Boston.”
“Same here.”
“Maybe when we find a way home”—she didn’t say ‘if,’ he noted—”we can take some of this stuff with us. It’s all beguiling, even if we don’t know what most of it does. Any one tool would be priceless on Earth. Like for me to translate that into Cocytan?”
“Save it,” he instructed her. “You can practice on our host.”
“Okay. It’s funny how once it’s put into your head, it just stays there. Wish I could memorize news sources that well. Sometimes I—” She broke off abruptly.
“Maggie?” He brought the communicator closer to his lips. “Sometimes you what, Maggie? Come back. You okay?”
The creature was very large, very alien, extremely unpleasant to look upon and evinced no hint of intelligence whatsoever. What it was doing in the museum spire she didn’t know. It hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. Unlike Low and Brink, it was her first encounter with any local life-form larger than a lizard. Though Low hadn’t supplied any details, she didn’t think it was a Cocytan.
It looked more like a crab than a spider, she decided, though in appearance it partook a little of both. It would have been perfectly at home in a cheap 1950s horror film, except that it smelled atrocious and its contorted, bent limbs were possessed of a horrid jerking motion that was beyond the reach of cheap cinematic artifice. Big and ugly, it blocked her path with ease.
She couldn’t see any eyes, though it was obviously aware of her presence and location. Hard-shelled, shiny legs twitched in her direction. As she backed away, she could hear Low yelling at her via the communicator and knew she should respond. The shock of the creature’s appearance had left her momentarily dumb struck.
It had simply materialized in front of her, without any warning. Adrift amid the peace and quiet of the spire and fascinated by the enchanting Educator, she’d let down her guard. Now it was too late to take precautions.
She looked anxiously to right and left, but there was no real cover in either direction. Only exhibits and displays, none of which were large enough to hide behind. Besides, the creature obviously had a fix on her and would follow no matter where she ran.
One side of the spire boasted several unexplored doorways. All lay in the direction of the transport station. If she was lucky, one of them would connect through, allowing her to bypass the creature.
She turned and sprinted for the wall. All those hours spent in the gym were intended to keep her looking her best on the small screen while enabling her to ward off the smiling assaults of younger, up-and-coming newswomen. Now the hundreds of miles she’d spent on the treadmill were being put to more important use.
It didn’t look particularly fast, she told herself as she ran. She’d outrun it, pop down a side tunnel and find another way back to the transport sphere. There was no need to worry Low. The poor man carried around an Atlas-sized load of anxiety as it was. She’d reassure him as soon as she was sealed safely inside the sphere.
Hard, unyielding digits closed about her waist. Only then did she look back, to find herself staring into a distorted mockery of a face. Twisted, curving jaws were within an arm’s reach. All that was missing from the picture was ichorous drool. An overpowering stench more than made up for its absence. The monster reeked like prime carrion.
She’d underestimated its speed as well as its determination.
Although some of its movements were machinelike, it was definitely not mechanical. As it lifted her from the floor and carried her toward one of the very same dark openings toward which she’d been fleeing, she wondered why she didn’t scream. Was it because she couldn’t, or because the same inner drive that had taken her to the far corners of the Earth refused to concede the weakness? In any event, there was no one around to hear, and she didn’t want to do anything to startle the beast. If it found the noises coming from her unpleasant, it might decide to put an end to them by, say, unscrewing her head.