Omega

Julie drifted into sleep, and dreamed that she was back at the University of Tacoma, listening to somebody lecture about Beowulf, how Grendel represented natural forces, the dark side of life, the things people have no control over. Then she was awake again listening to the sea and the gulls and Digger.

“—Having a problem,” Digger was saying. “Julie, do you hear me?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, awake and surveying the screens. There were five of them, carrying an image of the omega, a satellite view of the three sailing vessels the Goompahs had sent east, a picture of the rainmaker they’d delivered the previous night, a revolving picture of the open sea around her, and, from an imager carried by Digger—

— A torchlight parade. Of Goompahs.

They were on a beach. Some were wearing robes. Others stood watching.

“I think they’re going to do another sacrifice,” he said.

Julie knew about the Goompah who’d walked into the sea. He’d worn a white robe, and everyone else had worn black. There was a single white robe among the marchers. Worn by—it looked like—an elderly female.

“I’m on my way,” said Whit, breaking in.

“Aren’t you guys together?”

“No,” said Digger. “We split up to cover more ground.”

Black-robed Goompahs were chanting. And a crowd spread across the beach, growing, and joining in. Julie couldn’t understand a word of it.

Digger was frantic: “I’m not going to stand by and watch it happen again.”

Whit had broken into a run. He wasn’t in great shape, and pretty soon he was breathing hard.

Julie should have kept quiet. But she opened a cha

The screen with the torchlight marchers went blank.

“Digger,” said Whit, “you okay?”

“Fine. Don’t have time for the imager.”

“What’s happening?” asked Julie.

“The head Goompah’s making for the water.”

Digger had begun to run across the beach. She could hear his shoes crunching the sand.

Whit gasped that he was close by, and Digger shouldn’t do anything until he got there, and Digger replied that there wasn’t time and he wasn’t going to sit still again.

“Hey,” she said. “This is not my business, but we’re supposed to stay out of it.”

“She’s right.” Whit again. “Religious ceremony.” Blowing hard. “The Protocol.”

“Forget the Protocol.”

“Does she have a sword?” asked Julie.

“They have a javelin. And she’s in the water. Up to her hips. Doesn’t look as if she can swim a stroke.”

“I see them,” said Whit. “Javelin’s in the air.”

“Julie.” Digger’s voice. “How soon can you get here?”

Julie’s harness was descending around her shoulders. She started punching buttons. “I’m just over the horizon.”

“You got a tether handy?” asked Digger.

“Bill,” she said, “let’s go. What’s the tether situation?”

“There’s an ample supply of cable in the locker.”

“Good. Activate the lightbender.”

“Handing the javelin off,” said Whit.

She could hear Digger charging into the water. “Get here,” he said, “as quickly as you can.”

SHE LIFTED OFF the rock, staying only a few meters above the surface, and turned toward shore. It was early afternoon, a gray, depressing day, the sun hidden in a slate sky. The mountains that lay immediately west of Savakol dominated the horizon.

One of the satellites was over the scene, and she was able to get a picture of the beach. The white-robed Goompah was wallowing in the surf, but pushing doggedly forward. There was, of course, no sign of the invisible Digger.

“There are some,” said Bill, “who do not want her to do it.”

A few Goompahs were in the surf with her. One had reached her and was trying to restrain her, but one of the black robes pulled the would-be rescuer away.

“Her name is Tayma,” said Bill.

“How do you know?”

“They’re calling it out. Telling her to stop.”

One of the Goompahs threw itself down on the beach and began to beat the sand.

Julie turned away from the screen. The ocean raced beneath the spacecraft.

“We are leaving a wake,” said Bill.

“Doesn’t matter. Nobody here to see it.”

The chants ended. Silence fell across the beach, save for the protesters. The coastline was taking shape ahead. A pair of islands rippled past.

“Bill,” she said, “you got the co

“I have it.”

She slipped out of her seat, climbed into the rear of the cabin, opened the main storage locker, and began hauling out cable. She sorted through, found a five-meter length, and pulled it clear.

Tayma was off her feet now, alternately getting pushed in and dragged back by the surf. “Not a very dignified way to go,” said Bill.

“I’m close to her now,” said Digger. He was breathing hard, too. She could hear a lot of splashing.

And suddenly there was a yowling coming over the circuit.

“What’s that?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the crowd,” said Whit. “Dig’s in the water, headed right for her. But they can see the splashes. You know what it looks like?”

“No.”

“To me it looks like something in the ocean stalking her.”

The cries had become shrieks. Bloodcurdling screams.

Tayma hadn’t seen it yet. A big wave came in, and she floated over the top, came down the far side, and went back to struggling against the drag. The crowd was making a lot of noise, and she must have heard it but probably thought they were expressing their sorrow for her. Or maybe she’d locked them out.

The lander arced in over the coastline. Julie saw the city and the long white beach.

“I’ve got her,” said Digger. Then he screamed.

“Dig, are you okay?”

“Let go!” said Digger. There was a thunk and he gasped.

“Digger?” Whatever was happening, it sounded as if he was losing.

“The crowd’s getting scared,” said Whit. “They don’t know what’s going on.”

“Neither do I. Where’s Digger?”

The lander slowed and began circling over the scene.

Whit said something but it didn’t matter anymore because she could see for herself now. The Goompah was well out in the water, and she was struggling fiercely with her invisible rescuer.

“—Trying to save you,” said Dig. “You nit—”

“Doesn’t want to be rescued,” cried Whit. “Let her go.”

Julie turned the lander around so the hatch couldn’t be seen from the beach. Then she opened up. Four thrusters along the hull rotated into vertical position and fired, providing additional lift.

“What are you going to do?” she asked Digger.

“You find that tether?”

“I’ve got a piece of cable.”

“Use it.”

She was already at work. She’d secured one end of the line, and stepped into the open hatchway. “Good luck,” she said, and dropped the other end into the water.

The struggle in the surf went on. The Goompahs, moaning and shrieking, crowded to the edge of the water. The cable twisted and turned. Julie saw more water kicking up near the beach and realized that Whit was about to join the fray. But before he got anywhere close, Digger a

Julie told Whit to go back, everything was under control. She stayed in the airlock and directed Bill to take the lander up. “But slowly,” she said. “Gently.” The line tightened, and the deck tilted under the weight.

The Goompah came out of the water, the line looped around her left arm. It was, despite everything, the most ridiculous sight Julie had ever seen.

“Go,” said Digger. “Get her ashore.”

“You okay?” There was a depression in the water where Digger was floating. The currents looked strong, and the beach kept getting farther away.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Will you get moving?” He sounded exasperated.

“We’re making a miracle,” said Whit, who’d retreated back to the beach. The crowd had gone absolutely rock-still silent. The Goompah, Tayma, kept rising higher, secured by a line that, from their perspective, must have vanished in midair. Some had fallen to their knees.

“Lift her gently,” said Digger. “Don’t jerk her or anything.”

“Right.”

“Do it the way the gods would.”

“How the hell would the gods do it?”

“Where do you want to put her?” asked Bill.

“Empty section of beach at the east end. Take her there.”

She could see Julie. God knew what she thought. The poor creature was already half out of her mind with fear, and there directly above her she was looking at a circle of light in midair with somebody hanging out of it.

“Don’t let her see you,” said Digger. “They’re scared of people.”

Too late. She’d heard that, forgotten, didn’t really care at this point. The lander glided over the waves and east across the beach.

“How do we know,” Bill asked, “she won’t just walk back into the ocean?”

“Next one’s on her. Dig, how are you doing?”

“Still afloat.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Better make it quick.”

She didn’t like the sound of that and almost cut the Goompah loose.

“Here?” asked Bill.

“Good. Let her down.”

She heard a sound that might have been a cheer.

“I’m going after him,” said Whit.

“No,” she said. “Stay where you are. I won’t have time to rescue two.”

DIGGER HAD NEVER been the world’s best swimmer. And he was out of shape. He had known when he splashed through the shallows and dived in after the unfortunate Tayma that he was making a mistake. But he had seen something in her face, and it told him she was terrified. In some absurd way, she was doing her duty, but she didn’t want to do it.

The earlier suicide was with him still, the Goompah pushing out through the waves and struggling against the tide and finally sinking.

But Julie had been slower coming to the rescue than he’d expected. He’d exhausted himself reaching the woman. (Somehow, he was willing to extend the term to the Goompah.) The tide had been dragging them both out, and he’d made the typical inexperienced error of fighting it. And then fighting her. And finally had come the struggle to get the line around her shoulder.

His arms were desperately tired and heavy. He’d thought he could let himself slip under, that he was inside the e-suit and could rest in the depths for a few minutes until Julie got back. But he’d forgotten that he was wearing a converter and not air tanks. If he went under, he’d smother.