Of Man And Manta - Ox Part 3

Nothing.

Paradox. The spotter oriented on any malfunction; it was a modified feedback, simple and certain. Yet there was a malfunction -- and the spotter had failed.

OX suffered disorientation. Paradox was nonsurvival. It was also annoying as h.e.l.l.

He disciplined himself, simplifying his circuits. No paradox. If the spotter hadn't caught it, there was no malfunction. But there was something. What?

OX concentrated. He refined his perceptions. Gradually he fathomed it. It was not his malfunction but an interruption from an external source. Thus the spotter had had no purchase.

Something was obscuring some of his elements. Not obliterating them but damping them down so that he was aware of the loss of energy -- peripherally. When he investigated, he s.h.i.+fted off those particular elements, and the effect abated. He could only perceive it through that damping, while his circuits were functioning. Ghostly, it avoided his direct attention, for it was an effect, not a thing.

Was it an ailment of the elements themselves? If so, his survival would be more limited than originally projected -- and he was already in a nonsurvival situation.

OX cast a net of spotters to determine the precise configuration of the damping. Soon he had it: There were actually three centers set close together. A stable, persistent blight. No immediate threat to survival.

Then one of the blight spots moved.

OX fibrillated. Distress! How could a blight move, retaining form? Stable or recurring form with movement was an attribute of sentience, of pattern. Blight was the lack of pattern.

Modification. Perhaps blight could slide somewhat, forced over by some unknown compulsion. Nonsentient. All blight spots would suffer the same effect.

Another spot moved -- the opposite way. Then both moved together -- and apart.

Disorientation.

Chapter 3.

TAMME.

Tamme emerged from the aperture, alert and wary. She had not told the three explorers that she was coming along and did not expect them to be pleased. But after the disaster on the dinosaur world, Paleo, the agents were taking few chances. These people were not to be trusted; left alone, they were too apt to concoct some other way to betray the interests of Earth.

The camp was deserted. Tamme saw at a glance that weapons and food had been removed: more than would normally have been used in the three hours since the first person had been sent through. They were up to something already!

But it was strange. Too many footprints led away. Veg, Cal, Aquilon -- and a barefoot person? Plus something on a caterpillar tread. And the two mantas.

Caterpillar? Hardly standard equipment. Where had they gotten it?

Answer: There was nowhere they could have gotten it. Tamme herself had put through all the supplies in advance, checking and rechecking a detailed roster. This was the first human penetration to this new world. Sensors had reported breathable air, plant life, amphibious animals, fish -- all far removed from this desert where the aperture actually debouched but certainly part of this alternate. Also advanced machines. That was what made immediate exploration imperative.

Machines did not evolve on their own. Something had to build them. Something more advanced than the machines themselves. Ergo, there was on this world something more than the sensors had indicated. Either an advanced human culture -- or an alien one. Either way, a potential threat to Earth.

But windows to new worlds were hard to come by. The first such breakthrough had come only a few months ago, and Mother Earth naturally had not wanted to risk valuable personnel by sending them through a oneway aperture. So volunteers had been used -- three s.p.a.ce explorers who had gotten in trouble with the authorities and had therefore been amenable to persuasion. Expendables.

An unusual trio, actually. Vachel Smith: a huge vegetarian nicknamed Veg. Deborah Hunt, called Aquilon: named after the cold north wind because, it seemed, she seldom smiled. And Calvin Potter, a small, physically weak man with a fascinatingly complex mind. The three had been lost on a planet called Nacre -- theoretically it glowed in s.p.a.ce like a pearl because of its perpetual cloud cover -- and had befriended the dominant life-form there: an animate fungus with extraordinary talents. The manta.

It had been a mistake to loose this group on the world beyond the aperture, and soon the authorities had recognized that. But by that time the trio, instead of peris.h.i.+ng as expected, had penetrated to the nearest continent and gotten involved with the local fauna -- they had a talent for that! -- which turned out to be reptilian. In fact, dinosaurian. Extraction had been awkward.

Three agents of the TA series had accomplished it, however: Taner (now deceased), Taler, and Tamme herself. But when they made ready to return to Earth with the prisoners, another complication had developed. Their portable return-aperture generator had opened not on Earth but on a third world.

They had known there was risk involved -- of exactly this kind. The apertures were experimental and erratic. Though Paleo was the only alternate to be reached so far from Earth, despite thousands of trials, one trial on Paleo had produced this unexpected and awkward payoff. Perhaps it was a better initiation point.

The original Earth/Paleo aperture remained. It had been broadened so that ma.s.sive supplies could be transferred, and the three agents had built their own prefabricated s.h.i.+p with which to pursue the fugitives. A fourth agent had remained to guard the original aperture, which happened to be under the ocean near a Pacific islet a thousand miles from the western coast of Paleocene America.

It had seemed easier to transfer back directly from this spot -- on the continent -- rather than make a tedious trip back with the prisoners. Location seemed to make little difference to the apertures; they could start at any point and terminate anywhere -- usually in the vacuum of interplanetary s.p.a.ce. They had radioed Taol for approval, and he had contacted the Earth authorities for approval. If the supplementary aperture were successful, it would greatly facilitate the exploitation of Paleo.

Then, with the surprise development, new orders: check it out with sensors and explore it personally if necessary -- but HOLD THAT CONNECTION! There was no certainty they could ever locate that world again, given the freakish nature of apertures, so it had to be held open now. Earth, enormously overpopulated, its natural resources approaching exhaustion, needed a viable alternative to expensive commerce by s.p.a.ce travel. This could be it. More personnel would be funneled through the main aperture in due course; meanwhile, use their present resources in case the connection became tenuous.

Thus, reprieve for the prisoners. They were free -- to engage in another dangerous exploration. They had not, however, been told about the machines. This time an agent would accompany them. Just to keep them out of mischief.

Agents had been developed to handle this sort of emergency. An agent was not a person; he was an android on a human cha.s.sis, molded to precise specifications. Tamme had no past beyond her briefing for this mission; all she knew was the material in the common pool of information shared by every agent of the TA type. And that overlapped considerably with the pool of SU before her series and TE after it. But it was a good pool, and all agents were superhuman both physically and mentally. She could handle this trio of humans.

She paused in her reflection. Better qualify that. She could handle them physically because her strength, reflexes, and training were considerably superior to theirs. And emotionally, because though she had feelings, they were fully disciplined. But the woman Aquilon had her points, and the man Calvin had a freakish mind that had already demonstrated its ability to fence successfully with the mind and perception of an agent. Random variation in the "normal" population had produced an abnormal intelligence. Too bad the authorities hadn't recognized it in time.

Tamme grimaced. The truth, known to every agent but never voiced, was that the authorities were not overly smart. If ever a cla.s.s of agents were programmed to tackle the problems of Earth directly, they would begin by putting the incompetents out of power. What a waste, to serve a stupid master!

Meanwhile, the immediate: Was Cal behind this odd disappearance of the trio? Had he antic.i.p.ated her presence or that of Taler -- she had matched Taler, scissors/paper/rock, for the honor and lost -- and arranged some kind of trap? Possible but improbable; there had been no hint of that in his mind before he was transferred. He could have done such a thing, but probably hadn't.

All of which meant that the obvious surmise was the most likely one. She had forced herself to run through the alternatives first as a matter of caution. The three explorers must already have encountered one of the advanced machines of this world, and it had taken them -- somewhere.

Which was one reason they had not been told in advance that Tamme was coming along. What they did not know, they could not betray. In case the machines turned out to be intelligent enough to make an interrogation. An agent had to consider every ramification.

So the expendables had been expended. That accounted for everything except the extra set of prints. The bare feet walked into the sand and stopped as though the person had been lifted away at that point. But by what? A flying machine?

She checked the origin of the bare prints. The same: They appeared in the sand from nowhere. Odd indeed. Unless someone had intentionally made those prints by walking backward, then forward in his/her own tracks to make them seem like the mystery they were...

Tamme carried their spare aperture projector so that she could return to Taler on Paleo regardless of the firmness of the existing connection. a.s.suming hers did not open onto a fourth alternate-world! For a moment she was tempted to go back immediately. This situation was eerie. Which was ridiculous; she was not afraid of isolation or death.

All right: She had a machine to deal with. A formidable one if it had so neatly managed to kill or capture all three humans and their mantas already. Best to tackle it promptly. And with extreme caution. Too bad she couldn't radio Taler across the aperture!

First she made a survey of the general premises. She ran, loping over the sand at about twenty miles an hour, watching, listening. There was nothing lurking nearby. She completed her circle and set out after the ma.s.sed trail of footprints, machine tread, and manta marks. Veg and Aquilon, apparently together. A curious parade!

But soon the tracks diverged. Veg, tread, and mantas continued forward, but Cal and Aquilon turned aside -- and stopped. Their prints disappeared just as the bare ones had. Two more people were gone inexplicably.

Another flying machine? Then why hadn't the others taken note? If they all were captive, why hadn't all of them walked all the way to wherever they were being taken? More mystery -- and she was not enchanted by it. Her working hypothesis was taking a beating.

Tamme resumed the trail after making another scouting circle. She had good perceptions; she would have known if anything were hiding near. Nothing was.

Several miles farther on, the mantas diverged. One went to the left, the other to the right. An encircling maneuver? Encircling what if they were already captive?

Now she had to make a choice: Follow one of the mantas, or follow the main trail. Easy decision: Fast as she was, she could not face a manta. The fungoids could do a hundred miles an hour over sand or water. Veg she could overtake as long as he were afoot.

But the machine was an unknown antagonist. She did not care to risk an ambush by such a device. So she followed the trail by eye, moving some distance to the side, alert for whatever she might find.

Veg's tracks were not forthright. Now they turned right, now left, and now they faced backward -- but the scuffing of his heels showed he was walking backward, not changing the direction of his motion. Facing the machine evidently but staying clear of it. Why? Overall, the trail curved slowly left as though the two were traveling in a great circle back to the base camp. Not exactly the pattern of captivity.

A manta appeared, moving swiftly over the sand. It was beautiful in its seeming flight; she had great admiration for its mechanical efficiency and artistry. Tamme was armed but held her fire; these creatures were phenomenally apt at dodging. So it was unlikely she could score on it from any distance, and she did not want to antagonize it unnecessarily.