The Tar-aiym Krang (20 page)

The “machine” itself towered a hundred meters above them and ran the length of the auditorium, melting into the curved corners. While the exterior of the structure was remorselessly acute, the interior was considerably rounded off. Much of the machine was closed off, but Flinx could see dials and switches catching the light from behind half-open plates. Those he could make out had obviously not been designed with humanx manipulative members in mind.

From above the dull metal plating of the machine an uncountable profusion of chromatically colored tubes ran toward the distant roof. Azure, peach, shocking pink, ivory, Tyrolean purple, chartreuse, orange, mutebony, smoke, white-gold, verdanure . . . every imaginable shading and tone, and not a few unimaginable ones. Some were the size of a child’s toy, small enough to fit over his little finger. Others looked big enough to swallow the shuttle with ease. In the corners they merged into the fabric of the structure. He turned a slow circle and saw where bulges in the walls, extending even above the entrance way, indicated the presence of more of the colossal pipes. He reminded himself that he had no way of being certain they were even hollow, but somehow the impression of pipes persisted. Sometimes his talents operated independent of his thoughts.

“Well,” said Malaika. He said it again. “Well, well!”

He seemed uncertain of himself, a rare state. Flinx smiled at the merchant’s thoughts. The big man wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or not. He definitely had
something,
all right. But he didn’t know what it was, let alone how to market it. He stood while everyone else sat.

“I suggest we obtain whatever supplies we’ll need for our investigations.” Truzenzuzex and Tse-Mallory were examining everything in minute detail and hardly heard him. “This has passed over my head, and so from my hands. I trust you gentlebeings can find out what this thing does?” He waved a broad hand to encompass what they could see of the machine.

“I do not know,” said Truzenzuzex. “Offclaw, I would say that our acquaintances the Branner had the right idea when they spoke of this thing as a musical instrument. It certainly looks like one, and the arrangements in here,” he indicated the amphitheater, “would tend to support that assumption. For my wings, though, I can’t see as yet how it operates.”

“Looks like the ultimate product of a mad organ-builder’s worst nightmares,” added Tse-Mallory. “I wouldn’t say for sure unless we figure out how to operate the thing.”

“
Will
you?” asked Malaika.

“Well, it seems to be still partially powered, at least. Wolf recorded the power source, and something operated the doors, turned on the lights . . . and keeps the air fresh, I hope. It wasn’t designed according to conceptions we’d find familiar, but that thing,” and he gestured at the dome with its enclosed bench, “looks an awful lot like an operator’s station. True, it might also be a resting place for their honored dead. We won’t know till we dig a lot deeper. I suggest that we move everything we’ll need from the shuttle in here. It’ll be a lot simpler than running out in this gale every time we need a spanner or a sandwich.”

“
Mapatano!
I agree. Wolf, you and I will start transferring things from the shuttle. It will go quickly enough, once we unload some of that junk I piled into the crawler. It appears we are going to be here for a bit,
hata kidogobaya!”

Chapter Seventeen

It was an odd feeling to be constantly within the building. Not confining, for the door worked perfectly even for one person—provided he carried with him at least one item of recognizably metallic artificial construction. It was a peculiarly satisfying sensation to approach the great bulks, comm unit or gun extended in front of one, and have a million tons of impregnable metal slide gently aside to reveal a personalized passageway a meter wide and thirty meters high.

It was better outside at night, but not much. In spite of the goggles the dust eventually worked its insistent way into eyes. And it was chilly.

Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex had been pouring over the immense apparatus, prying behind those panels in the slate-gray wall which would open, ignoring those which would not. There was no point in forcing entry and risking breakage to the intricate device. Not when they could spend years on the unresisting portions. And they didn’t have years. So they continued to dig into the exposed guts on the Krang without disturbing a single wire from its proper place, treading with the utmost care lest they nudge some vital circuit from its proper alignment. While the scientists and Malaika labored over the enigma of the machine, Atha and Flinx would sometimes take the crawler into the vast city. Wolf remained behind to help Malaika, and Sissiph to be near him. So Flinx had the crawler’s observation dome practically to himself.

He found it hard to believe that structures which even in ruin and under a centuries-old coat of dust could remain beautiful had been raised to house the most warlike race the galaxy had known. The thought cast an unshakable pall over the quiet ruins. Little in the way of decoration was visible on the sandblasted exteriors of the structures, but that didn’t necessarily mean much. Anything not integral to the actual support of the edifice would long since have been worn away. And they were cruising far above what had once been a main boulevard. The street itself was somewhere far below, buried under a millenia of shifting sand and soil. They recognized it as such only because of the absence of buildings. Probably this city had been covered and uncovered at least a hundred times, each new cycle grinding away some portion of its original aspect. They had soon discovered that a mild electrostatic field came up regularly every evening and cleared the days’ accumulation of dust and debris from the base of the Krang for the width of the yellow-white circle. But no such care was visible in the city. In the evenings, as the sun set, the sands turned, blood-red and the hulks of hollowed buildings sparkled like topaz and ruby in a setting of carnelian. The constant, unceasing wind spoiled the illusion of beauty, and its rise-and-fall moan seemed an echoing curse of all the vanished races ever subjugated by the Tar-Aiym.

And they didn’t even know what they had looked like.

Chapter Eighteen

A week later they were all gathered in informal conference on the dais. A small, portable cookstove, powered by an aeternacell, had been set up nearby, giving the place an incongruously domesticated look. Next, thought Flinx, they would be hanging out laundry. It had been found more convenient for the scientists to sleep and eat by their work, instead of making the daily hike to the crawler. They could have brought the cruiser right up to the base of the dais, but for all they knew the seats themselves might play some crucial part in the operation of the Krang. Besides, reducing parts of the place to rubble hardly seemed the proper way to go about resurrecting its secrets. It was just as well that they hadn’t, because the sleepy machine would have noted the gesture as hostile and taken immediate and appropriate action.

The odors of frying bacon and eggs, and juquil for Truzenzuzex, added to the homey atmosphere. At the moment, Atha and Sissiph were managing the cooking for the scientists. This was proved a necessity after all the men had demonstrated a monumental ineptitude with the device, which did 90 percent of the work itself. Knowing full well he could operate it better than any of them, Flinx had pleaded ignorance when offered the chance to try it. He had no desire to be tied down with the job of cook, not when he could spend his time watching the two scientists dissect the amazing innards of the machine.

“This thing grows more incredible by the day.” Tse-Mallory was talking now. “You know, we found walkways at each corner of the building, where the machine disappears into the walls.”

“I’d wondered where you two had disappeared to,” said Malaika.

“They extend I don’t know how far beneath us. To the center of the planet for all I can tell, although I’d think that the heat would make that a prohibitive development even for the Tar-Aiym. Nor do we have any idea how far it extends on the horizontal level, either. To the ocean? Under it? We didn’t have an easy time of it down there, you know. There are steps and ladders and ramps, and none designed for human or thranx hands. But between the two of us, we managed. There must be mechanical lifts somewhere, but we couldn’t find them.”

“We first went down three days ago . . . apologies for worrying you. I suppose we should have mentioned where we were going, but we didn’t really know ourselves, and certainly didn’t expect to be gone as long as we were. The excitement of the moment overcame our time-sense.

“We went more or less straight down, pausing only twice, for three hours and sleep-time. These pipes, or whatever,” he indicated the rainbow giants ranked above them, “are continuous below this flooring, and descend to levels we didn’t reach. Not even at the farthest point of our journey. Most of the machinery was completely unfamiliar to us, and I daresay we two are as familiar with Tar-Aiym design as anyone in the Arm. But the majority of this stuff was way past us.”

“Near the surface the machinery is practically solid. Farther down it thins out to a sufficient degree to become recognizable as to its individual components. All of it looked brand-new. In many places the metal was warm, confirming what we’ve suspected all along. Power is being fed into it continually. And there must be a billion kilometers of wire down there.

“Still, we have no idea what it does, captain. I am sorrier than you could ever be, but you can console yourself in the knowledge that whatever it is, it is far and away the biggest and best of its kind.”

This last from a tired-looking Truzenzuzex. The philosoph had been working at an incredible pace the past week, and his age was beginning to show. On the ship he had kept it well masked with his energy and youthful spirits.

“Couldn’t you discover anything about its function?” pleaded Malaika.

Tse-Mallory sighed. He had been doing a lot of that, lately. “Not really. We both incline to the musical instrument theory, still. There are many arguments against it that bother us, though.” He looked at Truzenzuzex, who nodded confirmation.

“
Je?”
Malaika prompted.

“For one thing, we can’t quite bring ourselves to believe that in a time of such stress a race as war-oriented as the Tar-Aiym would devote so much effort and material to anything of a nonlethal nature. The metal for that door, for example, must have been required for the construction of warships. Yet it was brought and used here. On the other hand, we know they were artistically inclined in a gruesome sort of way. Their tastes did run strongly to the martial. Possibly they felt the need of a project to stimulate patriotic fervor, and this was their way of doing it. It would also have possible psychological benefits we can’t begin to imagine, if that seems unlikely, consider the lack of evidence we have to go on. I’m not ready to believe any of my explanations myself?”

“And another thing. Did you happen to notice the unusual silvery-gold tinge to the atmosphere as we were coming down?”

“No . . . yes!” said Malaika. “I’ve seen it before on other planets, so I didn’t think it too out of the ordinary. These . . . there were
mbili
layers, if I remember aright . . . seemed thicker than most. And better defined. But I don’t view that as a cause for surprise. I’ve seen quadruple layers, too. And the unusual thickness of these could easily be accounted for by the scouring effects of these
wachawi upepo,
sorceror’s winds.”

“True,” Tse-Mallory continued. “Windglitter, I believe they call it. As you say, there could be natural explanations for the odd thickness of the layers. The reason I bring them up at all is because on one of the levels we reached we found what appeared to be at least a portion of a great meterological monitoring station. Among other things, several of the instruments appeared to be occupied solely with keeping information on those two levels in the atmosphere. We only had time for a fast look at it, as our prime concern was making speed downward. But the only reason we noticed it at all was because the metal was quite warm there, gave off a lot of heat, and seemed to be running at full power. That’s something we observed in only a very few other places. We now think that those layers have something to do with the actual function of the Krang. What, I can’t imagine.”

“To be more specific,” said Truzenzuzex, “this thing,” and he pointed at the transparent dome and the lounge within, “takes on more and more the aspect of a center control for the operation of the entire apparatus. I know it seems difficult to imagine this monstrosity being operated by a single being lying on that slab, but evidence seems to support it. I am skeptical, myself. There is not a switch, dial, or similar device anywhere near the thing. And yet its location alone, and isolation, seem to support its importance.

“Close examination of that helmet, or headdress, or whatever it is, shows that it’s lined with what might be some form of sensory pickups. If the machine is indeed still capable of more than partial activation, then theoretically mere proximity to those pickups ought to do it. Actual physical contact with the operator wouldn’t seem to be necessary. So the fact that the size and shape of our heads in no way corresponds to that of the Tar-Aiym . . . in all probability . . . shouldn’t hinder us.”

“You’re thinking of trying it, then,” said Malaika.

“We must.”

“But suppose it’s geared to respond only to the electromagnetic patterns generated by a Tar-Aiym mind?”

“We have no indication that ‘electromagnetic patterns’ are even the type of whatever is necessary to activate the machine,” retorted Tse-Mallory. “But if that does prove to be the case, then unless you can produce a live and cooperative Tar-Aiym, I am very much afraid that we might as well pack and go home.” He shrugged. “Tru and I feel we’ve more or less reached a dead end as far as mere circuit-tracing goes. We could continue to poke around in this pile of complexity for a thousand years—fascinating as that might be—and not come any closer to making it work.”

“Trying it . . . couldn’t that be awfully dangerous?” asked Atha.

“It could very well be lethal, my dear. We decided that long ago. For instance, there might be a feedback which could . . . for that very reason, and for several others, I shall try it first. If we have still failed to activate it and no obviously harmful results are forthcoming, I see no reason why everyone here should not have an opportunity to try the same.”

“Not
me!”
said Sissiph loudly.

“Now wait a minute!” began Malaika, ignoring her.

“Sorry, captain.” Truzenzuzex, now. “
Starhe!
Don’t bother, as you would say. Bran is correct. Our training may not exactly qualify us as operators of this thing, but our familiarity with the works of the Tar-Aiym and what little we know of their psychologies might help us cope with any unforeseen problems that could develop. Such designs might arise which would overwhelm a complete novice. Sorry, but there is too much involved to permit you to make the initial attempt, at least. We are not on board ship. You are momentarily overruled, captain.”

“
Je!”
rumbled Malaika.

Tse-Mallory stepped to the entrance of the dome. “Let’s be on with it, then.”

“You mean,
saraa kuume?”
asked Malaika.

Tse-Mallory paused. “I don’t see why not.” He hesitated again at the entrance, looked back. “I don’t expect much to happen, let alone anything dangerous. And if it does I wouldn’t expect this to be much protection, but for my own psychological comfort, everyone off the dais, please. It certainly ought to be safe enough in the seats, or lounges, or whatever they are. Obviously the Tar-Aiym used them when this thing was in Operation, so they
should
be safe for us as well. Theoretically speaking.”

“Sociologist, theoretical injury I don’t mind.” Malaika smiled in what was intended to be a reassuring manner and joined the others in moving off the raised area into the rows of “seats” below.

Truzenzuzex was the only other one to remain on the platform. Ostensibly he was there to observe, but both he and Tse-Mallory knew that if anything went wrong the insect’s aid would not likely be of much use. He took the proverbial and ritual deep breath and entered the dome.

The ceramic-plastic slab was now familiar from days of prolonged and minute inspections. He climbed up onto the smooth, cold surface and turned, facing out and slightly up. From inside the dome the roof of the monolith seemed almost visible. Possibly the transparent material had an actual slight magnifying effect. It did not seem significant.

The slab was much longer than was necessary to hold his lanky frame. It wasn’t heated, though. He found himself squirming uncomfortably on the hard, chilly surface and wishing it were a bed. This was too much like the molds in a cryogenic suspension lab. Do it quick, his mind told his body! Digging into the unyielding surface with his heels, he shoved himself upward. In one motion his head was fully within the helmet.

Flinx didn’t know what to expect. Explosions, earthquake, a collapsing building, perhaps. In any case the results were disappointing, if safe.

The helmet took on a pale red tinge, shifting to yellow, and thence to a light green. Also, a slight humming sound became audible. Apparently it came from within the slab itself. That was all. No fireworks, not even a few simple flashes of lightning.

Tse-Mallory’s face within the dome was twisted, but it was obviously in concentration and not pain. Oddly, his mind was unreachable to Flinx. If nothing else the dome blanketed the thoughts of whoever lay within.

Twenty minutes later he was out of the dome, shaking his head while the others crowded around.

“
Je?”
asked Malaika.

The sociologist looked irritable. “
Je?
Well, we proved one thing. If this machine is still capable of functioning as it was intended, that helmet is certainly the initiating point.”

“I can’t believe that this entire insanity was built just to make pretty colored lights in a plastic headdress!”

“No, of course not.” Tse-Mallory looked wistfully back at the slab and the once-again transparent helmet. “It seems as though I was able to activate it, but only a very little. Apparently there’s a necessary something missing from my mind. Or maybe it merely takes a kind of training we know nothing about. I don’t know. I tried everything I could with my mind. Self-hypnosis. Yoga. The Banda exercises. Total objective concentration. An open subconscious. You saw the results. Or rather, the lack of them.”

“Could you feel anything, anything at all?” asked Flinx.

“Umm. Yes, it was peculiar. Not painful or threatening. Just peculiar. Like something was trying to get inside my head. A tickling of the outside of the brain, barely noticeable. And when I tried to concentrate on it, it went away and hid. I must say I’m disappointed.”

“
Je?
You think perhaps you’ve got a monopoly on it?” The merchant looked upset, as well he had a right to be. “What now?”

“Now I suggest the rest of the humans give it a try. I believe that I’ve amply demonstrated its harmlessness, if nothing else. Keeping it attuned to one type of mind might have a beneficial cumulative effect.”

One at a time the rest of them took a turn under the innocuous helmet. Excepting of course Sissiph, who refused even to go near it. Malaika managed to generate a strong yellow glow in the transparent material. Flinx did as well (or as poorly, no one could say) as Tse-Mallory, only his coloring also possessed an uneven pulsing. As if to counter Tse-Mallory’s claim, he emerged from the domed chamber with a definite headache. Atha and Wolf could each manage a light red, almost rose color. They had better luck when Truzenzuzex at last made his attempt.

The second that aging, iridescent head entered the zone of effectiveness, the soft colors immediately ran from pink up to a deep blue. Tse-Mallory had to remark on it to get everyone’s attention. Repeated failure had led to discouraging boredom. But no one was bored now. Even outside the dome the humming from the base of the slab was clearly audible. On one of the open panels of the great gray bulk of the machine, lights were beginning to glow faintly. The helmet had by now turned a deep lavender.