Howling Stones

  So intense was the green-blue light that spilled from the interior of his backpack that he could barely stand to look at it. He could just make out the source of the light and heat: a single uneven mass where earlier there had been two. The individual stones must have melted into one when he fell.

  His fingers hovered over the lambent mass. The heat was substantial but not unbearable. How did one separate commingled stones? How did the Parramati stone masters do it? He felt he had to at least try. Maybe a good, strong, old-fashioned tug on both ends simultaneously, he speculated. He pulled, twisting first in one direction and then in the other. As he worked his hands and wrists he thought he felt something give within the mass.

  The stone exploded.

  No, he decided, aware that he had not lost consciousness. The glassy mass had not blown up. In fact, he and the conjoined stones were the only things that had not exploded.

  It was the universe that had detonated …

  A Del Rey® Book

  Published by Ballantine Books

  Copyright © 1997 by Thranx, Inc.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  http://www.randomhouse.com

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 97-92418

  eISBN: 978-0-307-53119-3

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Other Books by This Author

  1

  People tended to overlook Pulickel Tomochelor in a crowd.

  It was something he’d grown used to. He’d always been overlooked: in academia, in sports, at social gatherings. Only a few unusually perceptive instructors had taken note of his singular abilities. These he’d paid close attention to, and by cleaving to them, he had been correspondingly raised up.

  His accomplishments were never spectacular but always solid, satisfying without standing out. He was, in short, that most valued of all commodities in both business and government: the reliable employee without a personal agenda.

  And yet there was enough there, determination compensating for lack of brilliance, for him to be called upon more than once to deal with problems that others could not solve. Where they could not succeed, Pulickel Tomochelor invariably produced results. From this he took, as was his manner, a quiet instead of boisterous satisfaction. Not for him a plethora of medals or awards, not for him applause during multiple personal appearances or the rapt attention of the media. A commendation in his official record was recognition enough. Nor did he disdain the occasional bonus.

  There had been a woman once, too, to offer praise and support. She had moved on, leaving behind a confusion of memories leavened with vague dissatisfaction. Domesticity was the sole task at which he had failed; the only matter left inconclusive in his life. It rankled and left him unfulfilled inside. As with the responsibility, the fault was not entirely his, but it ate at him nonetheless. He stored it in a far recess of his mind and moved on, concentrating on his work and his career, which by all accounts were far more successful than any selective component of his personal life.

  Keeping busy was part of it. His schedule allowed little time in which to develop a social life, much less raise a family, and the nature of his work mitigated against long-term relationships. It was hard enough to sustain intimacy when one was sent to different parts of the same world and well-nigh impossible when constantly on the move from world to world.

  Other men and women managed to establish and maintain long-term unions, but they usually worked together. Pulickel preferred to operate alone, with his thoughts his sole companion. Or so he frequently strove to persuade himself. While the sociology of other beings opened for him like ripening fruit, the actions and reactions of representatives of the opposite gender of his own species remained as impenetrable as the core of a neutron star, and often weighed on him equally as heavy.

  There was a lurch as the shuttle skewed sideways and the pilot’s voice sounded apologetically over the cabin speaker. A couple of passengers grumbled. Senisran being a frontier world, there weren’t many of them. Save for a few barely developed diplomatic communities and a smattering of isolated scientific outposts linked by satellite relay, the world expanding in the viewport off to his left was populated solely by a substantial but scattered native population. The locals raised no objections to the relay system because they couldn’t see it and didn’t know it was there anyway, their knowledge of astronomy being limited to that which could be observed by the naked seni eye.

  Pulickel shifted in his seat as much as the landing harness would allow. He was shorter than the Commonwealth average, slim but well built, his olive-hued skin reflective of his ethnic heritage. His features were small, fine even, and distinctly nonthreatening. Similar in appearance to the superb wood carvings his Javanese ancestors had turned out in quantity, he revealed his inner humanity only when he smiled, his teeth a slash of perfect white like an ivory inlay set among paduk wood. He did not turn the eyes of attractive women, but neither did they find him displeasing to look upon. His desert-dry personality generally took care of any initial interest, filtered through speech that was always proper, polite, and reflective of an advanced education.

  His eyes were small, black, and active, his hair black, long, and combed straight back. Pressed as if in preparation for a formal dinner, his field shorts and short-sleeved shirt collapsed in a jumble of angles against the less disciplined curves of his body. An experienced traveler, he’d brought one case only. It rested snug in back, in the cargo bay, and if properly looked after contained everything he would need no matter the length of his stay.

  He spared yet another glance for the attractive middle-aged woman seated on the aisle two rows in front of him. It was always difficult when they were taller than you, he reflected, and many were. Unfortunately, he did not possess the drive necessary to overcome his perceived handicap. As a result, he had not spoken to her since boarding, and doubtless would not speak to her when they disembarked. Experience had shown him that attractive single women preferred their men tall, muscular, slightly uglified, and dangerous. He was none of those things.

  With a sigh he turned to the port and studied the atmosphere through which the shuttle was dropping rapidly. One day he’d find someone, he told himself. One day when he had time to look and his work didn’t interfere. Meanwhile he would have to content himself with the accolades of superiors and colleagues, which he received in ample quantity.

  The sky outside darkened and Pulickel thought immediately of inclement weather. Again the shuttle bounced and for a second time the pilot was apologizing.

  “Sorry. We just ran past a flock of cemacerotic gliders. At least, that’s what I’m told they were. Minor evasive maneuvers were in order. We’re descending and now they’re slightly above us and to port. Those of you on that side may still be able to see them.”

  Everyone on the left side of the shuttle leaned up against their respective ports. Among the thick clouds overhead could be seen rapidly vanishing fla
ps of vast membranous wings. Pulickel recalled his weeks of study-prep on Senisran and its natives, flora, and fauna. The cemacerotic gliders were enormous aerial fliers who lived by skimming the surface of Senisran’s seas for plankton-size life-forms, straining them through gigantic beaks that were lined with a substance not unlike the baleen of a whale. Living in small colonies on the peaks and crags of the highest islands, they were inoffensive, harmless creatures—unless one happened to run into you. Such accomplished soarers were they that some biologists suspected they often circumnavigated the globe without ever touching land.

  Recently discovered Senisran was an ocean planet, not unlike the long-settled and well-known Cachalot. In lieu of any continental landmasses, the globe-girdling seas were spotted with thousands upon thousands of islands: some isolated, some clustered tightly together, most strung out like the strands of broken necklaces in hundreds of individual archipelagoes. A few were sizable but none especially impressive, the largest being about half the size of Earth’s Madagascar. All save the northern- and southern-most were hot, though the humidity varied with location and latitude. There were no polar ice caps on Senisran.

  On these innumerable island groupings dwelt the native population, organized into hundreds of different tribes, clans, associations, and alliances, each with its own government, social system, religion, and morality. It was this riot of cultural diversity that made formal contact between offworlders and locals a difficult and time-consuming proposition. Not only was a planetary government non-existent, the aboriginal seni had yet to conceive of the idea of nation-states. In some cases, on small isolated islands, visitors making contact were reduced to signing treaties with the representatives of individual extended families, whereupon they would have to begin negotiations all over again with the inhabitants of the next island.

  As if things weren’t complicated enough, Senisran had been discovered simultaneously by the Commonwealth and the AAnn Empire. The result was that both sides had representatives on the planet, each attempting to secure covenants of friendship and alliance with as many of the native governments as possible. On a number of island clusters, contact teams operated in direct competition with one another. It was a frustrating, time-consuming process made all the more difficult by the sense of competition that existed between contact teams.

  Local arrangements complicated matters even further. Humanx and AAnn representatives sometimes found themselves expected to go to war with neighboring islanders as soon as they formalized a treaty with a set of new friends, who, it subsequently developed, had formal alliances with three other island groups, but not the one just over the horizon. Or ancient family quarrels entered into the negotiating process. There was nothing straight-forward about any of it.

  Which was one reason why Pulickel had been sent for.

  Neither the Commonwealth nor the Empire would take up arms on behalf of any native. That was strictly against the rules of contact agreed upon by both sides. They could only stand by and watch helplessly as treaties settled through arduous and difficult negotiation frequently came apart under the strain of local conflict, whereupon all would have to be completely renegotiated from scratch. It was a diplomatic nightmare, none of which would have had any ramifications beyond those tribes immediately involved save for two things: Senisran was strategically located in a region claimed both by the Commonwealth and the Empire, and it offered an assortment of valuable commodities actually worth transporting through space-plus. It was valuable both from a politico-military and commercial standpoint.

  Certainly the natives were willing to cement formal contracts and to open trade, he mused as the shuttle began its final approach. According to all the reports he’d perused, only a few island groups were openly hostile to outside contact. Since these more hostile natives expressed an equal dislike for humans, thranx, and AAnn, they could for now be passed over. They, too, would come around once they saw the advantages that accrued to their neighbors through contact with more technologically advanced off-world civilizations.

  With Senisran boasting a planetwide insufficiency of flat, dry land, the shuttle set down on unsinkable pontoons, momentarily disappearing within a traveling fountain of its own making. As the craft slowed, Pulickel considered how best to acquire an assortment of the remarkable native handicrafts for which the seni were rapidly becoming known. He’d promised at least a dozen colleagues back home a representative sample each. Original art was one commodity that technology had yet to supplant and was therefore an item highly amenable to interstellar trade.

  It being an ancient truism that commerce treads hard on the heels of exploration, many of the great Commonwealth trading houses already had representatives at work on Senisran. Dozens of others pressed the appropriate government departments for access credentials, eager to trade with the locals for their exquisite wood, shell, and bone carvings, necklaces, and sculpture. It seemed as if every island group had its own distinctive style, each more striking and beautiful than the next. The acquisitive AAnn were no less enthusiastic. Such trade was carefully regulated, lest the seni procure technology too advanced for their society to absorb.

  In addition to an astonishing range of handicrafts, Senisran also offered an expanding selection of unique comestibles. The well-off of Earth, New Riviera, and other sophisticated worlds were and had always been willing to pay outrageous prices for new tastes, new sensations. Any dozen half-competent companies could introduce new electronic gadgets onto the market, but a new fruit or vegetable was infinitely more valuable.

  It was endlessly frustrating to the backlog of commercial interests to have to wait for official contact to be established with each island or island group, but it was the responsibility of Commonwealth authority to see to it that trade and interchange proceeded smoothly and without acrimony. Commerce was not allowed to proceed until a point scout had established formal relations with the group of natives in question. First-person first-contact was a delicate and sensitive undertaking that called for highly trained individuals with plenty of experience.

  Individuals like Pulickel Tomochelor.

  He was a specialist’s specialist, whose talents were in demand throughout the frontier. As there was only one of him, his time had to be rationed. He had devoted his career to unraveling seemingly insoluble conundrums. As a consequence of his success, it was going on ten years since he’d been given anything resembling an easy assignment. He didn’t mind. It made his personal sense of satisfaction all the greater.

  He smiled to himself as the shuttle turned to port and entered the harbor at Ophhlia, the principal Humanx base on Senisran. In exchange for its use, the increasingly sophisticated locals received a hefty monthly fee. A ridge of high mountains ran from east to west along the midline of the sizable island, protecting the harbor and its thriving facilities from the daily cloudbursts that blew up out of the south.

  Personally, Pulickel always sympathized with the confusion that was common to undecided native groups, who were by far in the majority. Beset by endless requests and frequently contradictory promises from two different sides and species, whom were they to believe: human or AAnn? From the native viewpoint, who held the real power and offered the most benefits? With whom should they ally themselves? In such critical negotiations, the skill of each side’s on-site negotiator was paramount.

  Where Pulickel shone was in his ability to understand alien cultures and an alien point of view. He might never reach the exalted rank of Counselor, but in another ten years or so he could see himself in charge of the entire xenology department, passing judgment on the reports of others and handing out assignments from a spacious office high atop the Science Tower in Denpasar. Solving the problem for which he’d been sent to Senisran would serve to carry him a few steps farther toward that goal.

  The distant whistle from the shuttle’s engines faded as it coasted to a stop inside the enclosed, climate-controlled landing dock. Though they were now in a sealed environment, the climate processors could on
ly mute the heat and humidity, not eliminate them entirely. Suitable comments were exchanged among the passengers as they disembarked. Pulickel kept silent, measuring the conditions against what he’d been led to expect.

  Through the transparent tube that encased the walkway, disembarking passengers could see the shuttle floating behind them on brilliantly clear water. Beyond the polarized, diffusing material, tropical sunlight illuminated the jumble of low-rise buildings that comprised orderly Ophhlia. It flashed green off the mountaintops beyond. Even within the disembarkation lounge, the pervading smell was of damp green growing things: the musk of fresh soil. Inside, the treated, mechanically massaged atmosphere was cool but heavy.

  He gave a mental shrug. He’d spent time on more than a dozen alien worlds, some hotter, some colder, a few where the atmosphere would kill anyone who tried to breathe it. Compared to the average, the air of Senisran felt like home. After the long journey out from Earth, he was eager to leave the shallow trappings of imported civilization behind and get out into the field. He looked forward to it much as another man might look forward to a date.

  “Tomochelor?” A rough-looking, stocky, heavily bearded individual broke from the small crowd to block Pulickel’s path. He wore a duty uniform of green shorts, shirt, and sandals. Insignia decorated his sleeves and shoulders. “Eric Train. On behalf of the department, welcome to Senisran.” He extended a hand and flagged Pulickel’s up and down. “No hand luggage?”

  “No. I just have the one case.”

  “That’ll be waiting for you in the baggage area.” He turned and Pulickel fell in step alongside him. “I’ve seen your schedule. You have a couple of days here in town before you have to head out to the site. I’d be glad to show you around.”

  “I’d enjoy that.” Actually, Pulickel wasn’t sure that he would, but he’d learned early on in his career that when traveling, no amount of research, no matter how thorough, could substitute for the knowledge of someone local. While Train was exposing him to the few simple pleasures Ophhlia had to offer, Pulickel would patiently pump him for more practical information.