J’merlia produced a loud buzzing sound, but no words.

“I have no control over the men who will make the decision,” Darya repeated, speaking as slowly and clearly as she could. “If they deny me access to Quake, there is nothing that I can do about it.”

The buzzing sound grew louder. “Most unsatisfactory,” J’merlia said at last. “Atvar H’sial must visit Quake during Summertide. We have traveled far and long to be here. It is not thinkable to stop now. If you cannot obtain permission for us and for yourself, then other methods must be sought.”

The great blind head swung close, so that Darya could see every bristle and pore on it. The proboscis reached out to touch her hand. It felt warm and slightly sticky. She forced herself not to move.

“Darya Lang,” J’merlia said. “When beings possess a common interest, they should work together to achieve that interest. No matter what obstacles others attempt to put in their way, they should not be deterred. If you could guarantee your cooperation, there is a way that Darya Lang and Atvar H’sial might visit Quake. Together. With or without permission.”

Was J’merlia misinterpreting Atvar H’sial’s thoughts, or was Darya herself misunderstanding the Cecropian’s intention? If not, then Darya was being recruited by this improbable alien to join a secret project.

She felt wary, but caution was mixed with a thrill of anticipation. The Cecropian could almost have been reading Darya’s own earlier thcughts. If Rebka and Perry agreed to let her go to Quake, all well and good. But if not… there might be another project in the making.

And not just any project; an enterprise designed to take her to her objective — at Summertide.

Darya could hear the whistle of air as it was pumped continuously through the Cecropian’s spiracles. The proboscis of Atvar H’sial was oozing a dark-brown fluid, and the eyeless face was a demon taken from a bad childhood dream. By Darya’s side, the black, eight-legged stick figure of J’merlia was drawn from the same nightmare.

But humans had to learn to ignore appearance. No two beings who shared common thinking processes and common goals should be truly alien to each other.

Darya leaned forward. “Very well, Atvar H’sial. I am interested to hear what you have to say. Tell me more.”

She was certainly not ready to agree to anything; but surely there could be no harm in listening?

CHAPTER 6

Summertide minus twenty-nine

The Umbilical and the capsules that rode along it had been in position for at least four million years when humans colonized Dobelle. Like anything of Builder construction, it had been made to last. The system worked perfectly. It had been studied extensively, but although the analyses told a good deal about Builder fabrication methods, they revealed nothing about Builder physiology or habits.

Did the Builders breathe? The cars were open, built of transparent materials, and lacking any type of airlock.

Did the Builders sleep and exercise? There was nothing that could be identified as a bed, or a place to rest, or a means of recreation.

Then surely the Builders at least had to eat and to excrete. Except that although the journey from Opal to Quake took many hours, there were no facilities for food storage or preparation, and no facilities for the evacuation of waste products.

The only tentative conclusion that human engineers could reach was that the Builders were big. Each capsule was a monster, a cylinder over twenty meters long and almost that much across, and inside it was all empty space. On the other hand, there was no evidence that the cars had been used by the Builders themselves — maybe they had been intended only as carriers of cargo. But if that were true, why were they also equipped with internal controls that permitted changes to be made in speed along the Umbilical?

While students of history argued about the nature and character of the builders, and theoreticians worried about inexplicable elements of Builder science, more practical minds went to work to make the Umbilical of use to the colonists. Quake had minerals and fuels. Opal had neither, but it possessed living space and a decent climate. The transportation system between the two was much too valuable to be wasted.

They began with the amenities necessary to make a comfortable journey between the components of the planetary doublet. They could not change the basic size and shape of the capsules; like most Builder products, the cars were integrated modules, near-indestructible and incapable of structural modification. But the cars were easily made airtight and fitted with airlocks and pressure adjustment equipment. Simple kitchens were installed, along with toilets, medical facilities, and rest areas. Finally, in recognition of the discomfort of planet-based humans with great heights, the transparent exteriors were fitted with panels that could be polarized to an opaque gray. The main observation port lay only at the upper end of the capsule.

Rebka was cursing that last modification as their car came closer to Quake. While they were ascending to Midway Station and beyond he had enjoyed an intriguing view of the planet ahead of them — enough to be willing to leave for a later occasion an exploration of the Builder artifact of Midway Station itself. He had assumed that he would continue to see more and more details of Quake until they finally landed. Instead, the car inexplicably swung end-over-end when they were still a few hundred kilometers above the surface. In place of Quake he was suddenly provided with an uninformative and annoying view of Opal’s shifting cloud patterns.

He turned to Max Perry. “Can you swing us back? I can’t see a thing.”

“Not unless you want us to crawl the rest of the way.” Perry was already jumpy in anticipation of their arrival. “We’ll be entering Quake’s atmosphere any minute now. The car has to be bottom-down for aerodynamic stability, or we have to crawl. In fact… He paused, and his face became taut with concentration. “Listen.”

It took a moment for Rebka to catch it; then his ears picked up the faintest high-pitched whistle, sounding through the capsule’s walls. It was the first evidence of contact with Quake, of rarefied air resisting the passage of the plunging capsule. Their rate of descent must already be slowing.

Five minutes later another sensory signal was added. They were low enough for pressure equalization to begin, and air from Quake was being bled in. A faintly sulfurous odor filled the interior. At the same time the capsule began to shake and shiver with the buffeting of winds. Rebka felt an increased force pushing him down into the padded seat.

“Three minutes,” Perry said. “We’re on final deceleration.”

Rebka looked across at him. They were about to land on the planet that Perry described as too dangerous for visitors, but there was no sign of fear in Perry’s voice or on his face. He showed nervousness, but it could just as well be the excitement and anticipation of a man returning home after too long a time away.

How was that possible, if Quake was so dangerous a death trap?

The car slowed and stopped, and the door silently opened. Rebka, following Perry outside, felt that his suspicions were confirmed. They were stepping out onto a level surface, a blue-gray dusty plain sparsely covered with dark green shrubs and a low-profile ochre lichen. It was certainly dry and hot, and the smell of sulfur in the midafternoon air was stronger; but less than a kilometer away Rebka could see the gleam of water, with taller plants on its boundary, and near them stood a herd of low, slow-moving animals. They looked like herbivores, quietly grazing.

There were no erupting volcanoes, no earth tremors, and no monstrous subterranean violence. Quake was a peaceful, sleepy planet, drowsy in the heat, its inhabitants preparing to endure the higher temperatures that went with Summertide.