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  A veil of pheromones drifted from beyond the long body of the Zardalu. “Louis, what game is being played here? Why is this object blocking my way?”

  “It’s all right, At. Give Archie’s rear end a poke and he’ll move. I think we’re going to see action—at last! We get the go-ahead from Graves tomorrow. Then, we make a jump and we’re out of here.”

  * * *

  “You presented your plan to me yesterday as a certainty.” Atvar H’sial was again sitting behind Louis Nenda in the main chamber of the Pride of Orion. “Do you still adhere to that view?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” Louis stared around the room, about half of which seemed to be taken up by the great body of Archimedes. “Julian Graves is crazy, so you never can tell what he’s goin’ to decide. But I don’t like this setup at all.”

  “Too many are present?”

  “You got it. All are present, except Graves himself. Me, you, Archie, Kallik, J’merlia, Rebka, E.C. Tally. Why involve everybody? Why even hold a meeting? What we need from him is a simple yes or no.”

  “And if Graves says no?”

  “We reevaluate. We got a ship, we have a set of Bose nodes and stars and planets to go with ’em. We could take off and explore the Sag Arm.”

  “What of our return to the Orion Arm?”

  “Why would we go back? We’re no better off there than we are here—maybe safer here. Nobody’s chasing our tail in the Sag Arm.”

  “Louis, for you that may be an option. For me it is not. Ultimately I must return to the Cecropia Federation and mate. If I do not, I die.”

  “The end of your travels?”

  “By no means. After mating is complete I will again be free to wander as I choose.”

  “An’ we’ll be back to work. None of my business, but I was told that Cecropians mate for life.”

  “It would perhaps be more accurate to say that Cecropians mate for death.” Atvar H’sial’s forelimbs made a reflexive motion, pulling something toward her and crushing it hard against her chest. “Louis, the process is a rapid one, quickly accomplished. I suggest that you do not require details.”

  “Damn right I don’t.”

  Although J’merlia was present, the silent interaction was wholly pheromonal and did not involve the Lo’tfian interpreter. J’merlia was following what was said, but the idea that he might interrupt a conversation with his dominatrix, or pass any of what he heard to a third party, was to a Lo’tfian literally unthinkable.

  Half a dozen other conversations, by no means silent, had been going on around the chamber. They ended with the sudden arrival of Julian Graves.

  The councilor glanced around. “I see that everyone is present. Good. I will not keep you long. Here is my decision. We have pursued the path to the Sag Arm as far as the end point of this dead stellar system. The path leads no farther. It would be logical to say, no more, and use the Bose network to return to the Orion Arm by the same route that brought us. The node sits there, it is available and waiting. You might argue for that course of action, since any other option seems to expose all of us to danger.

  “Against that, we must set the fate of a whole species, the Marglotta. And, still more important, in the longer term we must consider a possible threat to everything in our own Orion Arm. My conclusion is that the larger danger outweighs any personal one.”

  Louis Nenda muttered, “Get on with it!” But he spoke silently and pheromonally.

  Graves went on, “That conclusion does not dictate a best course of action, which I come to now. Three alternatives were suggested. Rather than taking the risk of choosing the wrong one, we will pursue all three. The Pride of Orion will be divided. Professor Lang, you will take one of the sub-ships to Iceworld and explore that planet. To assist you in that effort and alert you to possible dangers, survival team specialists Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner will accompany you. Captain Hans Rebka will serve as your pilot. Does any one of you have questions?”

  “Yes.” Hans Rebka spoke up. “You can’t have four different people in charge. Who makes the decisions?”

  “Until your ship touches down on the planet, you do. After that, you will follow the instructions of survival team member Ben Blesh. Professor Lang will of course be in charge of scientific investigations.”

  Louis normally had little sympathy for Hans Rebka, but he knew what he would do if somebody told him to take orders from some freshly weaned child. He saw Rebka turn red. However, the other man said nothing more.

  “E.C. Tally,” Graves continued, “you proposed to take another of the sub-ships and travel toward the edge of the dark zone within which we are presently located. That effort is approved. You will seek the Marglot system, but you will of course explore anything on the way that you find interesting.”

  “Councilor, may I speak?”

  “What is it now?”

  “I find everything interesting.”

  “Dear me, I suppose you do. Very well. Let me be more specific. You are to explore only those matters which seem relevant to the goal of this expedition. I hope that such things will be found at no great distance. However, there is a possibility that your journey will extend indefinitely. You will therefore travel alone.”

  “Naturally. When may I depart?”

  “I will defer that decision. I may need your help.” Graves turned to face Louis Nenda and Atvar H’sial. “This brings us to our third course of action. You wish to seek a Chism Polypheme. Very well. You will be free to do so, in your own ship. However.” Misty blue eyes stared into Louis’s. “Based on previous experience, it would be less than honest of me to say that I trust you to follow the agenda of the expedition rather than one that represents your own private interests. Therefore, I insist that a survival team member go with you, and use your equipment to report back to me regularly as to your movements and actions. You are, I know, already acquainted with Sinara Bellstock.”

  “Now just a minute.” Louis knew exactly why Hans Rebka’s face had turned red. He stood up. “The Have-It-All belongs to me, not you and not the Ethical Council. I won’t have some snotty-nosed infant tellin’ me when and how I use my own communications system.”

  “Louis, desist.” Atvar H’sial placed a hairy paw on his shoulder. “Once we are on the way, we can deal with the problem of Sinara Bellstock in our own fashion. She need not trouble us for long.”

  “Mr. Nenda, I am in command of this expedition. Are you saying that you refuse to follow my direction?”

  “No, no, nothin’ like that.” Louis sat down again. “You know how it is, we get used to runnin’ our own ship in our own way. I overreacted. I’ll be happy to have Sinara Bellstock come with us, an’ send you messages from the Have-It-All any time she feels like it.”

  “That is much better.” Graves actually smiled at Louis, before he turned again to face the whole group. “Which brings me to my own role, and the role of our other survival team members, Torran Veck and Teri Dahl. One thing that we must keep in mind is that, no matter how far in space we are separated, we remain a team unified in our objectives. We need both a nexus of communications, and a reserve capacity available to act in an emergency in support of any team component. I, Torran Veck, and Teri Dahl will serve in that capacity.”

  “And Heaven help any poor bugger who has to rely on that lot to get them out of trouble.”

  Louis’s remark went only to Atvar H’sial, and he had time for no more. Julian Graves, apparently well pleased with himself, was saying, “Now, I urge you to go ahead and make all necessary preparations for your assignment.” At the same time, Darya Lang and Sinara Bellstock were both on their feet and heading in his direction.

  Darya pushed in front of the younger woman. “Louis, I want to wish you good luck and success. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again before long.” As she turned away, she added, “Last time you asked me, I refused to have dinner with you. Next time we meet, please ask me again.”

  She gave him an enigmatic smile and slipped away. Befor
e Louis had time to react, Sinara Bellstock was standing in front of him and throwing a mock salute. “Captain Nenda, survival team specialist Sinara Bellstock reporting for duty and at your service. I will be aboard the Have-It-All in less than half an hour. Whatever you want me to do, just let me know.”

  She turned and headed across the chamber, leaving Louis with his mouth open and Atvar H’sial behind him, saying, “Louis Nenda, it is beyond logic why I continue a relationship with you as a business partner. The mating rituals of humans never cease to shock and amaze me. In ten thousand years of supposed civilization, they have made no progress whatsoever. Have you no shame? In the course of a lifetime, not only do you permit multiple mates, but you seek to enjoy more than one mate at the same time. Come, J’merlia.”

  The Cecropian’s pheromones seethed with disapproval, as she in turn headed away and out of the chamber.

  As the room emptied, Louis was left with Kallik and Archimedes and his own thoughts.

  It makes no sense, no sense at all. The only woman I’ve had sex with since I met Atvar H’sial has been Glenna Omar, and At totally approves of her and thinks she’s wonderful. But women I’ve never even considered having sex with, like Darya Lang and Sinara Bellstock, make At crazy. She’s right, it is beyond logic why we keep going as business partners.

  Below those thoughts, running at a far deeper level than the conscious, was an admission that Louis was not willing to make: Atvar H’sial had the power to read in detail the pheromonal products from Darya Lang, Sinara Bellstock, and Louis himself. And the other reluctant admission: pheromones don’t lie.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A useless diversion?

  Hans Rebka deliberately steered clear of Darya Lang during the day before departure. If she thought that he was angry because he would not be in charge of the expedition on Iceworld, that couldn’t be helped. Two years ago she and Hans had been so close that she could sweet talk him into revealing almost anything. In some ways he’d like to think that was still true, but he didn’t want her knowing his current intentions. He wasn’t sure he understood them himself.

  To avoid Darya, he sought out and spent as much time as possible with the two survival team members assigned to his group. Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner might not know the value of understanding your team members before you got into trouble, but Hans had learned it in a score of dangerous situations.

  At Hans’s suggestion, the three of them took a ride outside the Pride of Orion in one of the ship’s pinnaces. There he watched with amazement as the main vessel reconfigured itself to permit two smaller vessels to be spun off from the main body. The process resembled the reproduction of some great animal, as a new ship grew out of and finally separated from the mass of the old. It occurred to Rebka that the analogy might be more than that. Could it be that the Pride of Orion was a mixture of biological and inorganic components? If so, the technology of Fourth Alliance worlds had advanced far beyond what that group was willing to admit to the poorer clades. It also offered the promise of flexible structure for the sub-ship they would be using.

  The casual attitude of Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner convinced Hans that what they were seeing was nothing new to them. They treated Rebka himself as though he were the odd and interesting phenomenon.

  “Didn’t you have medical treatments and curative drugs available when you were a child?” Lara Quistner asked. “If we’d had anything as bad as your condition, we would have been treated before we were old enough to remember.”

  Until he encountered the fortunate inhabitants of the rich planets of the spiral arm, Hans Rebka had not realized that he had a condition. A large head and a small frame, on his birth world of Teufel where a shortage of food and essential trace elements was taken for granted, had been the rule rather than the exception. He considered explaining this to Lara Quistner and Ben Blesh, then decided it would be a waste of time. He could quote what residents of the Phemus Circle said about his home world—"What sins must a man commit, in how many past lives, to be born on Teufel?"—but he suspected that the other two would still have no idea what he was talking about.

  He contented himself with a shrug, and ended the conversation with, “Where I grew up, I was considered normal—and pretty lucky.”

  The new ship was full-sized now, and taking final shape before his eyes. Hans inspected it from bow to stern. Fully equipped for interstellar or interplanetary travel it might be, but no one would call it large. Four people would be a tight fit—even if they all got on with each other, which Hans knew would not be the case once they were on the way.

  It was time for a change, to a subject that might reveal more of his companions’ personalities. He said, “We’re going to be flying in a vessel that never flew before. We ought to have some kind of naming ceremony. Any thoughts as to what we should call it?”

  Lara Quistner glanced at her companion but said nothing. Fair enough. Ben was the senior member. Regardless of her individual competence, she was someone who would respect authority and a chain of command.

  After a few moments, Ben Blesh said, “I agree that the ship should have a name. But don’t you think that Professor Lang ought to have a voice in what we call it? I certainly do.”

  Blesh was pointing out, fairly directly, that he would not go along with any suggestion made by Hans. Maybe he was looking for an argument, and given what Hans had in mind once they were on the way, argument with Ben Blesh was almost certain. Until that time, however, it was best to avoid confrontation.

  Hans said mildly, “Oh, I wasn’t by any means trying to exclude Professor Lang. We certainly wouldn’t decide anything until she gave her opinion. I was just asking your preliminary thoughts.”

  “In that case, what about Savior as a good name?”

  Ben Blesh’s suggestion came without any pause for thought, and the proposed name told Hans a lot about the speaker. Blesh must have a greatly inflated idea of what a small exploration team to Iceworld might accomplish. They were seeking facts, and only facts. Savior? Saving anything more than themselves and whatever they might discover was too grandiose an ambition. If Lara Quistner deferred to Blesh on the basis of his seniority, and if he was consistently unrealistic, difficulties for the group were guaranteed. Julian Graves had not helped. He had put Hans in a position where after they reached Iceworld he could offer advice until he ran out of breath, but there seemed little chance that Blesh would take any notice.

  Well, it would not be the first time that Hans had been forced to lead from behind. He said, “Savior? Yes, that has a lot to recommend it. We’ll see what Darya Lang thinks.”

  He had a good idea of her response, even if they did not. She would remain neutral. Unless it involved the Builders, Darya went along with most things. Unfortunately, that might not include what Hans had in mind as soon as they were on their way.

  He stared at the new ship, fully formed and gleaming. He wanted to make sure it contained a few extra features. Apart from that, he would smile and lie low. There would be plenty of time for feuding after they left. And plenty of reason to expect that feuding would occur.

  * * *

  “Councilor Graves was quite specific. Call him if you wish, and confirm his intentions. But I know he said that until this ship touches down on Iceworld, I make the decisions.”

  “And I know he never had anything like this in mind.” Ben Blesh was standing behind Hans, who sat at the ship’s controls.

  Rebka did not look around. He could hear the anger in the other man’s voice. “Ben, I’m not sure that I understand your objection. We will still arrive at Iceworld in a few days. I’m simply trying to add to the store of information that we will have when we get there.”

  “By a pointless diversion to examine a dead planet? I don’t see how that tells us a thing. If I’m wrong, explain to me what I’m missing.”

  “I can’t guarantee that you are missing anything. All I know is that the world we are heading for sits smack in the middle of the life zone for a normal mai
n sequence star with mass equal to the one at the center of this system. There’s no life on the surface of the planet at the moment, it’s far too cold. My question is, was life there once? Might there even have been intelligence, before the sun dimmed and every living being was condemned to freeze to death?”

  The members of the survival team were emerging as distinct personalities. Lara Quistner might be good at her job, but she was certainly not a controlling type. She would go along with what her boss, and maybe anyone else, suggested. Ben Blesh was not only interested in being that boss, he made snap judgments and didn’t like anyone to disagree with him. Hans Rebka’s announcement that they would visit a different planet first, made when after a full day of powered flight Iceworld was clearly no closer, had provoked loud and instant disagreement from Blesh. Darya Lang had come down on Hans Rebka’s side. Her support was unexpected, but it was no more than reasonable—Hans’s actions had saved her skin often enough to earn her respect.

  Behind Rebka, Ben Blesh said, “I’m not going to let this stand. I intend to find out what Julian Graves has to say. He’ll put an end to the nonsense.”

  Hans, his attention on the planet growing in size on the display, was inclined to agree. Graves would put an end to it—when he erred, it was on the side of caution. Given any small chance that a visit to another planet would increase the odds of survival on Iceworld, the Ethical Council member would be all for it.

  As for Ben Blesh, his disappearance to use the ship’s communications equipment at the very time when a new world was coming into view was, in Hans Rebka’s opinion, one more piece of evidence that he was dealing with a fool. What else could you call a man who was more interested in having his authority confirmed than in increasing his chances of living? And what did that say about the general selection of survival team members? It was a pity that Lara Quistner and the others could not have been dropped off on Teufel for a few weeks during training. One encounter with the Remouleur, Teufel’s terrible dawn wind, would be worth a year of lectures from their “famous"—according to Graves—trainer, Arabella Lund.