Convergence

“One other thing.” Nenda’s call halted him at the door. “Genizee is the home of the Zardalu.”

“I have no interest in Zardalu.”

“Maybe not.” Louis throttled back his irritation. “But they’ll have plenty of interest in you — and in tearing you to bits. When we land, let me deal with ’em. I can talk to them.”

“Such was already my intention. I consider it part of your duties.”

That, and everything else that comes to your mind. Louis turned to monitor once more the conversation between Gle

Louis stared at the scene, and felt dizziness and a surge of intense desire. His blood sugar must be very low. He would give anything right now for one of those sticky, sugary confections sitting on the low table next to Gle

Nenda had left Genizee, swearing never to make another landing there. Here was the landing he would never make. The Gravitas came wobbling down toward the familiar sandy shore. Zardalu were emerging from the sea and the tall, sandstone towers at the water’s edge, long before the ship made its touch-down.

Aware of the poor condition of the ship’s equipment, Nenda worried that they would plummet the final fifty meters and squash a batch of the welcoming committee. It wouldn’t help the subsequent conversation. Or maybe, knowing the Zardalu, it might help a great deal.

The Gravitas flopped in sideways, dropping like a wounded duck at the very edge of the beach. Zardalu slid out of the way at the last moment, and returned at once to form a crouching ring around the ship on land and in the water.

There was no point in putting off the critical moment. Nenda, with Atvar H’sial right behind him, opened the one working hatch on the side of the ship and stepped out onto the sand. He was aware of Gle

Louis beckoned to the biggest Zardalu. It lifted its monstrous body and slipped noiselessly forward like a gigantic blue ghost. Right in front of Nenda it subsided in a sprawl of thick tentacles.

“Just as we promised, we have returned.” The clicks and whistles Louis used were in the master form of the old Zardalu slave language, but that hardly mattered. What counted was going to be the reply. How had things been going here, in the months since he and Atvar H’sial left?

“We have dreamed of your return.”

In slave talk! Nenda waited, until the broad head bowed and a long tongue of royal purple stretched four feet along the beach. He placed his boot firmly on it for five seconds, easily long enough to satisfy the ritual requirement, and then stepped back. He resisted the urge to scuff the slime from his boot. What Bloom and Gle

“It is time for our other pledge to be fulfilled. We have proved that we are able to come and go from Genizee as we choose. Now it is time for us to prove that we are able to take you with us.”

The head of midnight-blue rose and turned, to scan the waiting circle. “We are ready. We await only your permission.”

Now for the tricky bit. “Not all can go at once. We will begin by taking with us a single individual, as a demonstration. After that we will organize for the departure of larger groups.”

There was a long, long silence, while all Nenda’s worries about growing too blasé slipped silently away.

“That will be satisfactory. If the Masters will wait for a few moments and permit a turning of the back.”

“It is permitted.”

The big Zardalu swiveled its body around without moving its tentacles. It made a short speech in a language that Nenda did not understand at all.

A very short speech. Surely those few clicks were not enough to explain what Nenda had said. But all the other Zardalu were backing away. Thirty meters. Fifty meters.

The Zardalu in front of Louis turned back to face him. “It is done. I am the chosen Zardalu, and I am ready to go at once. It will be desirable to move with speed, once we begin.”

“No point in waiting.” Louis turned, and was gesturing Atvar H’sial back into the hatch when the noise began. It came from everywhere in the ring of waiting Zardalu, a high-pitched buzz that rose rapidly in volume.

He took one look, and knew exactly what had happened. Zardalu never changed. The big one hadn’t explained anything at all to the rest. It had decided who was going, and just commanded the others to stand back — giving Louis, for a bet, as the source of the order.

The thought wasn’t complete before he was at the hatch. Atvar H’sial, even quicker on the uptake, was already through and had swept Quintus Bloom and Gle

Nothing ever went the way you pla

Louis didn’t wait to find out. He bee-lined for the controls and slapped in the lift-off sequence. The Gravitas started its rise, tilting far to the left. Nenda knew why. The big Zardalu was wedged halfway through the hatch on the side of the ship and was struggling to wriggle in farther. A dozen others had grabbed the tentacles that were still dangling outside. The ship was lifting with twenty tons of excess and unbalanced mass. But it was lifting. And the Zardalu in the hatch was flailing with one free tentacle at the hangers-on.

Louis watched, with no regret at all, as the first of the hanging Zardalu lost its grip, dropped a couple of hundred feet, and splattered on a line of jutting rocks that bordered the beach.

After that it was just a matter of time. The ship was still rising. The Zardalu outside were shaken off, one by one. It no longer mattered whether they fell on land or water. At this height both were equally fatal. The last one to go had managed to attach its suckers to the underside of the Gravitas. It clung on until the ship was almost at the edge of Genizee’s atmosphere. But even a Zardalu had to breathe. Nenda watched it drop at last, a near-unconscious ball of defiantly thrashing tentacles. He even felt faint sympathy as it vanished from sight. You had to admire anything, human or alien, that just didn’t know when to quit. The big Zardalu, after enormous effort, had squeezed its bulk all the way on board. Not before time, either, because the ship was losing air through the hatch. Nenda slammed it closed, nipping off the ends of a couple of tentacles that were slow to pull out of the way.

The Zardalu did not seem to mind. It lay on the deck for a few seconds, breathing hard, then lifted its head and stared around. Gle

Nenda ignored that. He stepped closer to the Zardalu and waited until the great cerulean eyes turned in his direction.

“I hope you have not caused me a problem.” He used the crudest form of master-slave talk.

“Problem?” The Zardalu sounded terrified. “Master, why are you unhappy?”

“I’m not unhappy. But others may be. What about the ones who just got killed? What about all the ones who were left behind?”

“The dead do not feel happy or unhappy.” Now the Zardalu sounded more puzzled than afraid. “As for the rest, why would they have reason to complain? I acted as any one of them would have acted. What other behavior is possible?”