If anyone shared Bony’s thoughts, they did not mention it. Vow-of-Silence said, “It will mean suits again. A nuisance, but the journey will be a short one.” She turned to Bony and Liddy. “I have called for a crew-to-crew visual link. Since we are dealing with a human ship, initial contact and the indication of our desire to transfer would come better from two humans. Agreed?”
Did they have a choice? Bony waited for the two-way video link. At last, a picture appeared. The display showed a man and woman sitting side by side and looking right at the occupants of the Finder’s cabin. The man had a wary, weary expression, the dark-haired woman was fresh-faced and seemed to glow with health.
The two of them stared and stared without saying a word. The man’s mouth hung open, while the woman leaned forward and frowned in disbelief.
Liddy glanced around the cabin and could see nothing to astonish. When Bony remained silent, she at last said, “Hello, Hero’s Return. Are you there? Do we have contact?” There was still no reply. She nudged Bony, who sat frozen. “Something’s wrong with the communications. I don’t think they’re seeing or hearing us at all. Bony? Are you listening to me? Bony? Bony!”
Not just Chan Dalton and Deb Bisson, but the whole bunch — Dapper Dan and Chrissie and Tarbush and Tully O’Toole. Bony tried to explain about the team to Liddy on their surrealistic dawn journey across the seafloor, but he was not sure she believed him. He was not sure he believed himself. A hundred lightyears, or two hundred, or however many it was from Earth, and the first humans you run into are old friends.
Liddy reacted calmly. She and Bony kept very close to each other, drifting along the coastal shelf in the faint, filtered light of early morning. It was improbable for him to meet his old friends here? Fine, so it was improbable; but it had happened. “Improbable” was something you could only apply to future events.
The Hero’s Return stretched its length along the seabed, so big that as they approached the center lock for admission to the ship, the bow and stern were invisible through the cloudy water. The storm was past, but here its after-effects lingered on far below the surface. After the first chaotic minutes of hugs and handshakes, the group settled into the ship’s main fire control chamber, and detailed explanations began.
Chan Dalton introduced Dag Korin, and the grizzled General offered a terse description of the Hero’s Return’s Link transition and surprising underwater arrival. As he finished he glared with distaste at the Pipe-Rilla, the Angel, and the assembled Tinker Composite.
Vow-of-Silence took over, but she could add very little. The Pipe-Rilla, like the Angel and the humans, had expected her ship’s Link transition to terminate in vacuum. In fact, it seemed impossible that it would not do so, given all the built-in safeguards employed by the Stellar Group.
Bony had not expected that he and Liddy would have much to offer, but after Dag Korin and the Pipe-Rilla had explained how they came to be here, one of the crew of the other ship, a tall, woefully thin blonde named Elke Siry, sat down in front of Bony. She had been introduced as the expedition’s scientist, and she wanted to know everything. What tests had he done on the water? What had they seen of plants and animals on the seafloor? When they were on the surface, had they seen anything of the night sky of Limbo? What could they tell her about the surface gravity of the planet? About the distance to the horizon? Where was Friday Indigo, and the Mood Indigo ? What had they learned in their brief visit to the land? What about the aircraft he had seen? What about the object that Bony suspected to be a Link entry point? Was he sure it was a changing feature, sometimes there and sometimes not?
Her questions went on and on. Finally she frowned, chewed at her lower lip, and asked, “What else can you tell me about the bubble people? Why are you so sure they can’t go on land, and could not be the makers of the aircraft that you saw?”
Bony was sure, but he didn’t know how to prove it. Help came from an odd quarter. The Angel, newly rooted in a large pot of black earth, had so far sat motionless and spoken not a word. Now the upper fronds waved and a mournful synthesized voice said, “ ‘Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.’ ”
That was enough to draw Elke Siry’s attention. She turned away from Bony as the Angel went on, “The beings whom you term `bubble people’ are knowledgeable in certain forms of biotechnology. They are able to control living undersea organisms so as to construct simple domiciles, and they have a fair command of bioluminescent methods to achieve light during the hours of darkness.”
Dag Korin glared and asked Bony’s question. “How the devil can you possibly know such things?”
“We talked to them when we left our ship, the Minister of Grace.”
“You have no translation unit.”
“True, but irrelevant. We have no need of translation equipment. We learned and spoke their language.” Dag Korin snorted in surprise or disbelief, but the Angel went on calmly, “The bubble people lack knowledge of mechanical engineering, of physics, of mathematics, and of the world above the water. They say that the feature which you suspect to be a Link entry point was not always there. They lack sufficient concept of measured time to say when it arrived. However, to them the `foam object at the edge of the world which comes and goes’ is coupled with other bad changes. They are marine organisms and they have never been able to go on the land, but they used to visit the shallow waters close to the shore. Since the suspected Link point appeared, they cannot do so. If they go too close to the shore now, they say they will die or disappear. All this, together with the information that has been exchanged here, suggests certain tentative conclusions.”
Only, by the look of it, to Elke Siry. The Angel’s speech had come as no great surprise to Bony. Vow-of-Silence had mentioned that death came to Sea-wanderers who went close to the shore, and everything else fitted with what he already knew. But conclusions? He couldn’t deduce any. Nor, from the look of their faces, could Chan and the rest of the humans.
Except, of course, for Elke. She nodded at Gressel and said, “Certain conclusions, which perhaps I can make less tentative.” She touched the pad on her wrist, and one of the ship’s giant wall displays came alive. “The air-breathing pinnaces seem to be damaged beyond repair” — Chrissie and Tarbush exchanged anguished looks — “but the unmanned orbiters survived intact, and a few hours ago the ship was able to launch a pair of them. They are busy mapping the land and sea surface of this planet, and have provided occasional views of the heavens. Here is the night sky of Limbo, as seen from orbit.”
The screen filled, not with stars and veils of dust but with hundreds and thousands of glowing spheres. They could be seen in every direction from Limbo, too numerous to count, of all sizes and pulsing with their own soft light.
Elke Siry waited for the gasps and grunts of surprise to die down before she swiveled away from the display to face the others in the control room. “What we see there is not, I think we can all agree, anywhere in the Geyser Swirl. And that fact, together with everything else we know, is enough. With your permission, I will explain where we are, and what happened to bring us here. Though I suspect that she” — Elke stabbed a thin finger in the Angel’s direction — “already knows, because we seem to think in rather the same way.”
“We much prefer to be known as it. However.” The Angel opened wide its lower fronds. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Call us what you will. And pray continue.”