Dr. Hishkan added, “Whatever this is, Volcheme, I believe it would be very unwise to attempt to oppose it with standard weapons!”
The smuggler gave him a tight grin. “Since there’s no immediate need to make the attempt, we’ll postpone it, at any rate, Doctor. To me, the significant part of what we just saw was that the thing avoided contact with the defense field of that building . . . or was turned away from it, if it’s the mobile guided charge Galester was talking about. In either case, our enemy can’t reach us until we decide what we’re dealing with and how we should deal with it.”
Danestar said sharply, “Volcheme, don’t be a fool—don’t count on that! The ships that disappeared in the Pit carried defense fields, too.”
Volcheme gave her a venomous glance but didn’t answer. Dr. Hishkan said thoughtfully, “What Miss Gems says is technically true. But even if we are being subjected to a similar attack, this is a very different situation! This complex was once a fort designed to defend a quarter of the continent against the heaviest of spaceborne weapons. And while the interior fields do not compare with the external barrier in strength, they are still far denser than anything that would or could be carried by even the largest exploration ships. I believe we can depend on the field about this building to protect us while we consider means to extricate ourselves from the situation.” He added, “I feel far more optimistic now! When we have determined the nature of the attacking entity, we should find a method of combating it available to us in the Depot. There is no need to appeal to the authorities for help, as Miss Gems suggested, and thereby have our personal plans exposed to them—which was, of course, what she intended!”
Wergard’s voice said from the communicator, “If you want to continue your studies, Dr. Hishkan, you’ll get the chance immediately! The thing is now approaching the main building from the north, and it’s coming fast.”
Dr. Hishkan turned quickly back to the screen controls.
There was a wide square enclosed by large buildings directly north of the main one. The current of fire was half across the square as it came to view in the screen. As Wergard had said, it was approaching very swiftly and there was a suggestion of purposeful malevolence in that rushing motion which sent a chill down Danestar’s spine. In an instant, it seemed, it reached the main building and the energy field shielding it; and now, instead of veering off to the side as it had done before, the tip of the fiery body curved upwards. It flowed vertically up along the wall of the building, inches away from the flickering defense field. For seconds, the wall screen showed nothing but pale purple flame streaming across it. Then the flame was gone; and the empty square again filled the screen.
From the communicator, Wergard’s voice said quickly, “It crossed the top of the building, went down the other side and disappeared below the ground level surface—”
The voice broke off. Almost immediately, it resumed. “I’ve had more luck keeping it in view than you. It’s been half around the Depot by now, and my impression is it’s been looking things over before it makes its next move—whatever that’s going to be.
“But one thing I’ve noticed makes me feel much less secure behind a section energy field than some of you people think you are. The thing has kept carefully away from the outer Depot barrier—a hundred yards or so at all times—and it cuts its speed down sharply when it gets anywhere near that limit. On the other hand, as you saw just now, it shows very little respect for the sectional building fields. I haven’t seen it attempt to penetrate one of them, but it’s actually contacted them a number of times without apparent harm to itself, as it did again in passing over the main building a moment ago.”
Volcheme snapped, “What’s that supposed to tell us?”
“I think,” Wergard said, “that, among other things, our visitor has been testing the strength of those barriers. I wouldn’t care to bet my life on what it’s concluded, as you seem willing to do. Another point—it may be developing a particular interest in the building you’re in. I suggest you take a close look at the square on the north again.”
At first glance, the square still seemed empty. Then one noticed that its flat surface was alive with tiny sparks, with flickers and ripplings of pale light. The thing was there, almost completely submerged beneath the Depot’s ground level, apparently unmoving.
Tornull said, staring fascinatedly, “Perhaps it knows we have that specimen in here!”
Nobody answered. But in the square, as if aware its presence had been discovered, the fire shape rose slowly to the surface of the ground until it lay in full view, flat and monstrous, sideways to the main building. The silence in the office was broken suddenly by a chattering sound. It had not been a loud noise, but everyone started nervously and looked over at the table where the pile of instruments had been assembled.
“What was that?” Volcheme demanded.
“My shortcode transmitter,” Danestar told him.
“It’s recorded a message?”
“Obviously.”
“From whom?”
“I’m not sure,” said Danestar evenly. “But let’s guess. It’s not from outside the Depot because shortcode won’t go through the barrier. It’s not from Wergard, and it’s not from one of your people. What’s left?”
The smuggler stared at her. “That’s an insane suggestion!”
“Perhaps,” Danestar said. “Why don’t we listen to the translation?”
“We will!” Volcheme jerked his head at Decrain. “Go over to the table with her. She isn’t to touch anything but the transmitter!”
He watched, mouth twisted unpleasantly, as Decrain followed Danestar to the table. She picked up the miniature transmitter, slid a fingernail quickly along a groove to the phonetic translator switch. As she set the instrument back on the table, the words began.
“Who . . . has . . . it . . . where . . . is . . . it . . . I . . . want . . . it . . . who . . . has . . . it . . . where . . . ”
It went on for perhaps a minute and a half, three sentences repeated monotonously over and over, then stopped with a click. Danestar wasn’t immediately aware of the effect on the others. She’d listened in a mixture of fear, grief, hatred, and sick revulsion. Shortcode was speech, transmitted in an economical flash, restored to phonetic speech in the translator at the reception point. Each of the words which made up the three sentences had been pronounced at one time by a human being, were so faithfully reproduced one could tell the sentences had, in fact, been patched together with words taken individually from the speech of three or four different human beings. Human beings captured by the enemy in the Pit, Danestar thought, long dead now, but allowed to live while the enemy learned human speech from them, recorded their voices for future use. . . .
She looked around. The others seemed as shaken as she was. Volcheme’s face showed he no longer doubted that the owner of the alien instrument had come to claim it.
Dr. Hishkan remarked carefully, “If it should turn out that we are unable to destroy or control this creature, it is possible we can get rid of it simply by reassembling the device it’s looking for and placing it outside the defense screen. If it picks it up, we can open the barrier lock as an indication of our willingness to let it depart in peace with its property.”
Volcheme looked at him. “Doctor,” he said, “don’t panic just because you’ve heard the thing talk to you! What this does seem to prove is that the specimen you’re selling through us is at least as valuable as it appeared to be—and I for one don’t intend to be cheated out of my profit.”
“Nor I,” Dr. Hishkan said hastily. “But the creature’s ability to utilize shortcode to address us indicates a dangerous level of intelligence. Do you have any thoughts on how it might be handled now?”
Galester interrupted, indicating the screen. “I believe it’s beginning to move. . . . ”
There was silence again as they watched the fire body in the square. Its purple luminescence deepened and paled in slowly pulsing waves; then the tip swung about, swift as a flicking tongue, first toward the building, then away from it; and the thing flowed in a darting curve across the square and into a side street.
“Going to nose around for its treasure somewhere else!” Volcheme said after it had vanished. “So, while it may suspect it’s here, it isn’t sure. I’m less impressed by its apparent intelligence than you are, Doctor. A stupid man can learn to use a complicated instrument, if somebody shows him how to do it. This may be a stupid alien . . . a soldier type sent here from the Pit to carry out a specific, limited mission.”