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No. A great round thing circled it. Joelle determined the period to be such that the object was always between T machine and star during a transit. This was not a stable situation; but no doubt the device had robotic engines which readjusted its path as necessary. It was a shield.

Another, bulkier thing likewise played satellite to the machine, in a way which, given occasional compensation, likewise put it behind the shield when protection was needed.

“And what the hell might
that
be?” Brodersen asked the heavens.

He, Dozsa, Weisenberg, and Granville took
Williwaw
forth on exploration. By telemetry and audiovisual transmission, Joelle followed along. The data flow to her would have been maddeningly slow and incomplete were a holothete not above impatience. (Between inputs she had everything else to consider, to dwell in.) Nonetheless she was with them immensely more than Rueda, Leino, von Moltke, or Mulryan, straining eyes and ears before the screens, could surmise. Understanding better what the investigators found than they did themselves, Joelle was presently telling them what to search for, and how, and what their discoveries meant.

The shield was a curved shell. Its mean density was about the same as that of the cylinder; no doubt the same kind of force bound it together. It was about five kilometers across, ample to intercept a firebeam a fifth as wide, adamant enough to reflect that energy without being damaged. The shape maximized diffusion of the image, thereby minimizing impact upon the star. Attachments around the circumference, some ponderous, some skeletal, probably generated fields to divert charged particles that might otherwise come storming past it and swing inward. A different apparatus at the center of the concave side was surely
the motor that corrected the orbit. Joelle could see all those shapes in a way that nobody else was able to—for they were not readily describable in manspeech—and could appreciate their exquisiteness.

What Brodersen and company saw was impressive aplenty, the shimmering white shell athwart a black, many-glittered sky, the searing line of brilliance that whirled beyond it. Weightless though they drifted, they seemed to feel enormous powers at work; silent though the gulf about them was, hiss and crackle out of radio receivers brought them the noise of a cosmos in travail.

Joelle had but the vaguest idea of how the thing was made or how it ran. The Others knew laws of nature man or Betan had not discovered. That was no surprise. Did she ever meet them, she felt confident she, the holothete, could soon learn… converse… oh, maybe enter their fellowship!

Brodersen conned
Williwaw
toward the opposite satellite.

“Please,” Caitlín said, well-nigh timidly. “Eat this sandwich, drink this milk. It’s starving you are.”

Beneath her helmet, Joelle blinked. She wasn’t hungry. But when had she last eaten?
The circuits ought to include physiological monitors of me,
flashed through her.
Yes, that would be an interesting addition, albeit a minor one
. She decided she’d do best to heed the girl’s advice, and reached for the food and squeeze bottle.

“You should sleep, too,” Caitlín ventured onward. “You look like death’s discarded mistress. Remember how slow and cautious they’re boosting the boat. They won’t reach goal for many hours.” Not getting her head snapped off, she continued: “Frankly, I think it’s a mistake to have a water nipple handy for you and yourself with direct connections to the plumbing. You should need to get out of that hookup several times a day at least.”

In free fall, unexercised, my heart shrinks, my blood stagnates, my bones atrophy
. No part of the admonition felt real. It was certainly not important, unless in symbolizing a kind of apotheosis.
The Others aren’t so plagued. They don’t have to cram things down a reluctant gullet and excrete the dirty residue
.

“When you’re done,” Caitlín pleaded, “let me take you to
your cabin, give you a little physical therapy, put you to sleep. You’re no use to anyone if you cave in. Your brain won’t function properly if your circulation doesn’t.”

She’s right, damn her
. “Very well.”

—Loosely harnessed in midair, Joelle felt legs locked around hers, hands kneading her torso or flexing her limbs for her, through the whole of her bare skin. Caitlín was warm and springy. She was having a period, which sharpened the odor of her. A stray lock of hair waved past Joelle’s cheek, tickled, and carried a different scent, clean and bright.

“I must admit your treatment feels good,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed how stiff I’d gotten.”

“You’re in better form for your age than you deserve to be,” Caitlín replied, bolder now. “That’ll not last, though, unless you work out regularly.”

“I did, you’ll recall, till we arrived here. Right now I can’t spare the time.”
Can’t amputate myself from the glories around. How feebly alive I am this moment!

“You should. We’ve not so great a haste. I recommend men, too.”

Joelle tautened. “I’m sorry,” Caitlín said. “I’d no wish to pry. Still, you and Dan—you do truly understand, do you not, I’ve no jealousy about that?”

How could you dare be jealous, the way you carry on?
Joelle considered throwing back. She decided she didn’t want to. The issue was supremely trivial.
Besides,
her nerves and glands told her,
since I am out of circuit, I would enjoy it if he made love to me
—
no, fucked me, nothing else, I passive
. The palms and fingers along her back raised heat.
Or this creature, in this room with me? She’s not equipped, of course, and doubtless not interested, but—no! Christine, Christine! No!

Caitlín halted. “What’s the matter?” she asked in alarm.

“Nothing,” Joelle coughed.

“The hell it’s nothing. You jerked and tightened as though a thousand volts had shocked you.” Caitlín brought herself around face to face, at arm’s length, lightly clinging to the older woman. Distress took hold of her countenance. “If you care to talk about it, I keep secrets well, and I’ve known a diversity of people. This day we share dread of what may happen to Dan. Would you like to share more?”

Joelle shook her head till she grew dizzy. “No. It’s nothing, I told you. But stop the massage. Give me a knockout pill good for
four hours. I must be alert when the boat makes rendezvous.” As Caitlín hesitated, she screamed, “That’s an order, you tramp!”
No Christines. No Erics. I can’t afford them. They hurt too much. Why take further pain? It’s the merest epiphenomenon anyway, like its sister phantom, desire, which is also its mother. In the Noumenon is peace. It never betrays. Let it be my lover, my life, while I remain sundered from the Others
.

The second satellite was an argent ellipsoid, approximately nine kilometers by five, its major axis in the plane of its own orbit and the T machine’s. It circled not far beyond the outermost beacon, well inside the path of the shield. The resemblance of an object at its “after” end to the object within the shell confirmed Joelle’s opinion that these were motors to counteract perturbation effects. Protrusions elsewhere were less identifiable but were doubtless parts of instruments and, perhaps, communications equipment. Most of them made a lacework of metal, with here and there a phosphorescence or an aurora-like weaving of color, the whole sight very lovely against the stars.

A flange around a segment of the satellite displayed curious scallopings as well as enigmatic apparatuses. “You know,” Brodersen said, “I’ll bet that’s the dock, made to accommodate quite a few sizes and shapes of spacecraft.” He suited up and flew from his vessel on a backjet, to walk about and examine. The metal being nonferrous, magnetic soles didn’t aid him, but he’d slipped on a pair of sticky-coated asteroid miner’s overshoes. Through a camera in his fist Joelle saw the huge curve to his left, the unknown constellations to his right, toppling past the edge of the pier.

Excitement vibrated in his voice. “It’s our bad luck nobody’s around just now, but they have been and they will be. This place feels
used.”

Nothing was quite fitted to
Williwaw
. Nevertheless he found a niche into which the boat could ease. Probably one of the machines alongside would secure her, did he only know how to operate it. He settled for leaving Dozsa on unwilling watch, and led the rest off on foot and by personal rocket.

A cavernous opening in the “bow” was the entrance to a tunnel which ran three-quarters the length of the station (for station of some kind it must be) Lesser passages led off,
branching and rebranching. Every wall shone, a soft light that spectrometers declared ranged from the near ultraviolet to the far infrared… for a variety of eyes? Rails gave an opportunity to pull oneself along. At intervals were frameworks which might be rest stops or observation booths or—? Doors of assorted outlines were so smoothly fitted as to be nearly invisible, and no way appeared for opening them. “Each tenant has his key,” Brodersen hazarded.

He said that because not every door was a silvery blankness. For whatever reasons, a number were transparent. A few did not even seem to be material, though if they were force-fields they acted harder than steel. Looking, photographing, taking spectra, the humans glimpsed half a score of separate environments. Red murk or blue glare or mildly in between, illuminations revealed austere cell, swirling mist, conservatory a-riot with many-hued vegetation through which jewel-like flyers darted, hologrammic scene of a stony land where yellow dust scudded beneath an orange sky, moving mechanisms, sights less nameable than these. Indications were of atmospheres thick, medium, tenuous, which contained free oxygen or free hydrogen or neither, at temperatures anywhere between the boiling point of nitrogen and the melting point of lead. In every case, what the humans saw was obviously an antechamber to a rich complex of living quarters, laboratories, God knew what else. (The users did, the Others did.) Brodersen said he felt sure a centrifuge room was always included, unless something more elegant was available, in order that visitors could enjoy home weight when they wanted.

Visitors!
speared through Joelle.
A galactic confraternity of minds, cultures, races, whom the Others have found worthy and have prepared this mansion for. We are not among them
.

The hurt of that exceeded the hurt of having been human female. She cast it from her and immersed her consciousness, baptized it, in what else she was discovering.

For actually the apartments were almost incidental to the explorers, found piecemeal as they wandered about in the labyrinth. What counted, what stunned was the thing at its heart.

There the main corridor swelled to form a kilometer-wide spherical space. A three-dimensional web of wires provided ready access to its inner surface. Upon this were emplaced subtly contoured devices, across which played glows and rainbows.
There were views of exterior space too, not framed in any tangible screens. And there were displays.

Displays—They were not pictures or dioramas, but moving, solid images made of light which was not confined to the human-visible octave. They portrayed no species, but were wholly abstract: shapes, hues, motions. A line, for instance, would flash into being to point at a number, which in turn was showered by an array of sparks. The nearest that any exhibit came to realism was in schematics of the pulsar.

Or thus Joelle supposed. Most of what she saw was incomprehensible, nothing but streaks, curtains, vortices, ribbands, cataracts. Probably they were intended for races whose visual conventions, maybe whose whole world-views, were totally different from hers. She concentrated on the one that made the most sense. Before long it made an enormous amount of sense. Not that it had been waiting for human beings in particular. But space-time must hold a good many creatures, besides the Betans, who perceived it and thought about it in ways not wildly unlike hers.

Have the Others prepared this for the benefit of any strangers who blunder in? Yes, I think they have
.

Representations of atoms, the periodic table, quantum states and their changes—The nucleus of hydrogen-I was a unit of mass, its neutral emission line in space a unit of length, the frequency an inverse unit of time. Between absolute zero, as indicated by the behavior of molecules, and fusion that exactly formed deuterium, the temperature scale was divided into degrees: twelve to the twelfth power. Variations and reiterations made the initial presentations clear to a holothete.

They developed. In due course came a demonstration of how to operate a specific device. You took a rod from a bracket and touched it to certain light-spots in a certain sequence… “Proceed,” Joelle told Brodersen. He obeyed.

Information flooded her.

It began as transmitted binary digits. They went swiftly on to form patterns she could recognize. (Enough yes-or-no points in a coordinate space will completely describe an image, tone, mathematical function—) Within minutes she learned that she ought to respond, and did through the ship’s dish. Minutes afterward, the automaton had adapted its rate of sending, its whole approach, to the limitations of her equipment and the characteristics of her nervous system.

Alone in the skull, that brain might have needed years to begin fumblingly to comprehend. Holothete, it could make a hundred hypothetical interpretations in a second, test them against what it already knew: and thus, lopping off sterile branches, causing new ones to spring forth and reveal strength or weakness, work its way up a logic tree, ever closer to the bole that was truth. None in the ship but Fidelio could really have grasped what she did; and his ghost helped her onward.

Yet she needed hours to find the central fact, days to see it in anything like fullness, so incredible was it. Upon the pulsar was life, intelligent life.

Chinook
swung around the T machine, its third moon.
Williwaw
had returned to her. The station being investigated as far as possible, which wasn’t much, and communication started with it, which was perhaps completely open-ended, Brodersen and his group could do little else there. One time Joelle realized transitorily that while she searched and called, her shipmates must be carrying on—routines, games, intrigues, dreams, despairs—like paramecia in a drop of ditch water.