remarked at the time, is utterly lacking in light and life? Good. Now I am going to shift the origin of coordinates of the display, to one centered on a particular position at the extreme edge of that dark region."
The display seemed to zoom through space at an impossible speed, crossing the Gulf in seconds and plunging into the depths of the Sag Arm. When it slowed, a new and strange starscape revealed itself.
"You will probably not recognize this," Tally went on. "Nor might you expect to, since you could presume that no one from our spiral arm has ever been at such a location in the Sag Arm. This is, in fact, merely a portion of the Sag Arm as seen from the place that I computed by triangulation as our location. You would, however, be wrong in your assumption. I will now display the sky as it actually appears to sensors on the Pride of Orion at this very moment."
The image flickered. Tally continued, "If you fail to observe any difference, that is because there is no difference. We are where my computations suggested that we would be: at the very edge of the zone of darkness."
The lights in the chamber brightened. E.C. Tally, who had been standing, sat down to a baffled silence. It was finally broken by Julian Graves.
"Very good. So we know where we are. I do not see how that is of much help to our present situation."
"May I speak?"
"I rather wish you would."
"We are at the extreme edge of the region where the stars have ceased to shine. The Marglotta, who came to us and sought our assistance, may be presumed to be just beyond that edge since their home system is currently in danger. And since we were directed here, it is logical to assume that the Marglotta home world is at no great distance from us. I therefore propose that we travel to and explore the nearest stellar system. It will be, with high probability, the Marglot system."
Hans Rebka had listened carefully to every word. He decided that he understood the problem: although E.C. Tally was totally logical, the embodied robot was also totally crazy. Unless you got lucky, and found either another Bose node or a Builder transport vortex, a subluminal trip to the nearest stellar system was a multi-year proposition.
But maybe you didn't have to be crazy—just have an indefinitely long life-span, like an embodied computer.
Julian Graves said, "You leave one important point unspecified. Who would undertake such a journey?"
"Why, I would. Who else?"
"Who else, indeed? I need time to consider your suggestion, and also Professor Lang's. Does anyone have other ideas to offer?"
Graves was already on his feet, ready to end the meeting, when Louis Nenda coughed and said, "Yeah. Well, maybe. Though the last thing I offered got shot to hell. Thing is, At and me figure the rest of you are missing a big piece of all this. What about the Polypheme?"
"Mr. Nenda, you are the one who pointed out that Chism Polyphemes are the most crooked, unreliable, deceitful species in the galaxy."
"Absolutely. Did I mention they're also totally self-serving? If I didn't, I should have. But you had a Polypheme piloting the ship with the Marglotta on board. More than that, by the time it reached Miranda it was a dead Polypheme, something nobody I know ever saw or heard of. Polyphemes may not live forever, but they do their best to. So At an' me, we asked ourselves, why would a Polypheme get mixed up in tryin' to help the Marglotta? We can come up with only one answer: the Polyphemes are involved because they're scared light green. An' why? 'Cause their home world is next on the list, or maybe next but one. Otherwise, they wouldn't give a damn what happened to the Marglot system. So if anyone can tell us what's goin' on, the Polyphemes can."
"Mr. Nenda, what you say may well be true. There is, however, a fatal flaw in your argument: we have no idea where the Polypheme home world might be, and we know they will do everything they can to conceal that knowledge from us."
"The hell with
The display seemed to zoom through space at an impossible speed, crossing the Gulf in seconds and plunging into the depths of the Sag Arm. When it slowed, a new and strange starscape revealed itself.
"You will probably not recognize this," Tally went on. "Nor might you expect to, since you could presume that no one from our spiral arm has ever been at such a location in the Sag Arm. This is, in fact, merely a portion of the Sag Arm as seen from the place that I computed by triangulation as our location. You would, however, be wrong in your assumption. I will now display the sky as it actually appears to sensors on the Pride of Orion at this very moment."
The image flickered. Tally continued, "If you fail to observe any difference, that is because there is no difference. We are where my computations suggested that we would be: at the very edge of the zone of darkness."
The lights in the chamber brightened. E.C. Tally, who had been standing, sat down to a baffled silence. It was finally broken by Julian Graves.
"Very good. So we know where we are. I do not see how that is of much help to our present situation."
"May I speak?"
"I rather wish you would."
"We are at the extreme edge of the region where the stars have ceased to shine. The Marglotta, who came to us and sought our assistance, may be presumed to be just beyond that edge since their home system is currently in danger. And since we were directed here, it is logical to assume that the Marglotta home world is at no great distance from us. I therefore propose that we travel to and explore the nearest stellar system. It will be, with high probability, the Marglot system."
Hans Rebka had listened carefully to every word. He decided that he understood the problem: although E.C. Tally was totally logical, the embodied robot was also totally crazy. Unless you got lucky, and found either another Bose node or a Builder transport vortex, a subluminal trip to the nearest stellar system was a multi-year proposition.
But maybe you didn't have to be crazy—just have an indefinitely long life-span, like an embodied computer.
Julian Graves said, "You leave one important point unspecified. Who would undertake such a journey?"
"Why, I would. Who else?"
"Who else, indeed? I need time to consider your suggestion, and also Professor Lang's. Does anyone have other ideas to offer?"
Graves was already on his feet, ready to end the meeting, when Louis Nenda coughed and said, "Yeah. Well, maybe. Though the last thing I offered got shot to hell. Thing is, At and me figure the rest of you are missing a big piece of all this. What about the Polypheme?"
"Mr. Nenda, you are the one who pointed out that Chism Polyphemes are the most crooked, unreliable, deceitful species in the galaxy."
"Absolutely. Did I mention they're also totally self-serving? If I didn't, I should have. But you had a Polypheme piloting the ship with the Marglotta on board. More than that, by the time it reached Miranda it was a dead Polypheme, something nobody I know ever saw or heard of. Polyphemes may not live forever, but they do their best to. So At an' me, we asked ourselves, why would a Polypheme get mixed up in tryin' to help the Marglotta? We can come up with only one answer: the Polyphemes are involved because they're scared light green. An' why? 'Cause their home world is next on the list, or maybe next but one. Otherwise, they wouldn't give a damn what happened to the Marglot system. So if anyone can tell us what's goin' on, the Polyphemes can."
"Mr. Nenda, what you say may well be true. There is, however, a fatal flaw in your argument: we have no idea where the Polypheme home world might be, and we know they will do everything they can to conceal that knowledge from us."
"The hell with
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