“But to escape, they needed hosts to escape into,” Hunt said. “And that, I believe, is why the Jevlenese were turned into system junkies. It kept them hooked into the system, and hence get-attable.”
Danchekker nodded. “Their numbers grew with time, and the Jevlenese population became victims of what was surely the strangest alien invasion ever: an attack of information viruses from inside a computer, light-years away.”
“Except, that was only the preliminary,” Hunt said soberly. He stabbed his finger in the direction of the door. “Outside, there are God knows how many couplers, waiting for the main system to be activated, and on Uttan there’s a caretaker crew of Thuriens expecting a shipload of religious pacifists who’ll dismantle the military installations.” Hunt shook his head emphatically. “That isn’t going to happen. Once Eubeleus neutralizes them and gets himself entrenched, he’ll be able to make Uttan practically impregnable. And what do you think he’ll be doing once JEVEX is running again and we’re scratching our heads wondering how to get in?”
The looks on Danchekker’s and Gina’s faces said there was no need for him to say.
Hunt nodded. “You said a minute ago, Chris, that the Jevlenese were victims of an attack by alien information viruses out of a computer. But what happened before is nothing compared to what’ll happen if Eubeleus turns JEVEX on again. Unless we can stop him from getting to Uttan, this planet’s going to be hit by an epidemic!”
So finally, it seemed, they had gotten to the bottom of what was going on, and why. But that did nothing to solve the problem of what to do next. Given the means, of course, the first thing would have been to contact the Thuriens and get Eubeleus stopped, but with ZORAC off the air they were incommunicado. So they examined what other options they had.
Danchekker’s proposal was to head for the Thurien-controlled refuge at Geerbaine. If Jevlenese were contesting that, they might be able to find some way of getting aboard the Shapieron, or failing that, maybe one of the Thurien ships.
Hunt was less confident of their chances of getting there. “It’s the first place they’ll be looking,” he declared. “There’s already been trouble even in that area, and some of these cults are just looking for an excuse to get even with Terrans. I don’t like it, Chris.”
“There’s been a lot of activity in that direction,” Murray, who had rejoined them by that time, confirmed.
“What, then, do you suggest?” Danchekker invited.
“We might be better off lying low in the city for a while,” Hunt said. “Maybe we’ll find a way of making contact in the meantime.”
A worried look crossed Murray’s face. “I don’t know if it would be smart to stick around this place for too long,” he said. “If that Jev cop at PAC talked to Nixie, it’s not gonna need a genius to figure out where you’re probably holed up.”
Silence fell, with nothing any closer to being resolved. Gina stood up and stretched to loosen her shoulders. “I haven’t eaten all day,” she said. “What kind of options do we have in that direction?”
“I’m just about out,” Murray said. “I was about to stock up today. There are a couple of takeaway joints on the block. One’s an herbivore place that does a kind of soya greaseburger with seaweed pulp. The other’s the local idea of a deli.”
Gina pulled a face as she recalled Sandy’s squid-shit sandwiches at PAC. “Scrambled eggs with corned-beef hash, sausage patty, and a side order of fries,” she murmured, staring wistfully at Murray’s wall poster of San Francisco.
“Eggs over medium, bacon, mushrooms, and fried tomatoes,” Hunt sighed.
“Yeah… it does kinda get to you after a while,” Murray agreed. “I might have a few cans of stuff from home left out back. Let me go take a look.”
As he got up and moved to the door, the chime sounded from the panel again, and Lola’s voice said, “Osaya is calling from upstairs.”
“Okay,” Murray said. A female Jevlenese voice came on, sounding excited, and Murray said something in reply. While they were talking, Nixie appeared in the doorway. “What’s she saying?” Murray asked her. “Something about a hat with a window?”
Nixie talked to Osaya. “Oh, eprillin!” she announced, spotting his problem.
“I thought that was a hat,” Murray said.
“Yes. But also it means a kind of fish.”
“So what’s the hell’s she talking about a fish with a window?”
“She says there something that look like fish, up there outside window.”
Murray shook his head. “Have they been smoking funny stuff up there, or something?
“I go see.” Nixie exchanged a few more words with Osaya, then left.
Murray went into the kitchen, and the others heard him open a cupboard and begin rummaging. Then came the sound of hard objects being thumped down on the floor. “Say, waddya know!” his voice called through the doorway. “Genuine ham… And how about some Boston beans?”
“I’ve never heard of fried tomatoes,” Gina said to Hunt. “Is that something else weird that the English do?”
“Delicious,” Hunt said. “Especially on a slice of fried bread, with the juice soaking in. But what you really need to finish it off is a bit of black pudding.”
“What’s black pudding?”
“I rather think that the wise adage about sausages and politics applies even more in this instance,” Danchekker advised.
At that moment Nixie’s voice came from the panel. “Murray, come see here. Bring Vic up.”
Hunt sent Danchekker and Gina a puzzled frown, then rose. Murray stuck his head back through the doorway. “What is it?”
“Come see,” Nixie’s voice said.
Murray shrugged and withdrew. Hunt followed him out through the front door.
They went up two flights and entered another apartment, situated on the opposite side of the stairwell. The interior was an orgy of feminine extravagance and brilliant colors, with fluffy pink floors that looked like cotton candy, couches and chairs finished in a variety of white, lilac, and red down, outrageously erotic murals, and black walls glowing with constantly changing Mandelbrot patterns. Inside was the tall girl whom Hunt had met before, apparently off-duty at the moment in a simple shirt with pants. She beckoned and led them through a room with an enormous bed, built-in Jacuzzi, and mirrors everywhere, to where Nixie was standing at a window framed by long, silky drapes. Hunt and Murray peered out.
Below and to the sides was a jumble of interconnected roofs, with parts of various walkways and lower parts of the city visible in the spaces between. A roof enclosed the whole area above, with a web of transportation tubes and lighting installations hanging beneath, and two of the vast channels that cut across the city to carry airborne traffic receding into the distance. Whether there was more of the city above that, there was no way of telling.
Hanging motionless in the air above an open area maybe a couple of hundred feet away was a drop-shaped, silver-gray object about the size of a small car. It was featureless except for a couple of ribs that flared into rudimentary fins at the tail end, and a cylindrical device on a retractable metal pylon, which seemed to be nodding inquisitively in their direction.
“Ain’t never seen nothing like that before,” Murray said, staring at it, nonplussed.
“Is police thing? Come look for us?” Nixie asked nervously.
Hunt shook his head, and a faint smile softened his features. “It’s looking for us, but it’s not the police,” he said. “That’s one of the Shapieron’s reconnaissance probes. They must have figured out where we are.”
“Shit, I hope the cops aren’t so fast,” Murray muttered.
Hunt thought quickly. “Murray, is there any kind of portable communications gadget here-a remote pad for talking to the house system or something? If the Ganymeans figured this much out, they’ll be scanning for Jevlenese transmissions.” Murray consulted with Nixie, who said something to Osaya. Osaya went over to a bedside unit and came back with a tablet of what looked like veined, gray marble with gold inlaid designs and gold touchpads. She held it to the window and tried a few codes, then said something that sounded negative.