Chapter 8 - Upwards
(in which there is a climb, and a well, and static)
> "Fish die belly upward, and rise to the surface. It's their way of falling."
> --Andre Gide
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Iraklijs looked around. Similar, rectangular 'floes' glimmered in the distance, silently cutting through the sea of nanite-based fluid. They were all empty; the five hapless passengers were thus an aberration in this immense machine of unknown purpose.
He hastily packed up the picnic, making sure nothing was left behind, not as much as a wrapper. Iraklijs may have hated and feared this place, but littering in places of ancient heritage was a no-go for any self-respecting archeologist.
"Most likely, whatever is under that ledge places objects onto the floes. This is some kind of conveyor belt. Why have it be so large, I do not know. What I do know is that we have to get out of here before we drown or get crushed," Ekut said, glancing briefly into the haze above using her binoculars.
Altair blared a few buzzing, alarmed tones in quick succession.
"Well no shit," Iraklijs said, looking at the foaming line where the nanite-water flowed under the ledge. "And how do you think we will--"
CLUNK!
...was the sound of a magnetic plunger shooting out, followed by a tiny cling as it latched onto something in the foggy expanse forward and above, in the hazy outline of the immense wall in front.
"Hold onto the rope. We don't have much of a window. Have trust in me," she said. Zkeh decided to hold onto her tail. "I said the rope!" she squirmed.
The chohjozra hastily clambered upwards, while the others secured themselves to the cable in a more measured way.
Iraklijs' heart raced. "Where are we even--"
SCHHHWING!
They were yanked faster than ever before; Iraklijs figured that this was to avoid swinging and splattering against the ledge on the way up. Before he could fully figure that, the whiplash made him see red rings and induced a pounding deep in his brain. But before he could black out, the five were apparently safe in some quaint, dark square hallway. No wind howled and no ratchet clicked.
"Spots just realized," the bquaa poked their head to look down the immense cliff, "that there was light over the sea. Light has to come from somewhere. The ceiling?"
"Probably the fog itself glows somehow," Iraklijs said as he scooped a sample of it into a vial. "As for why it's not going into the hallway, my sensors detect a slight wind here."
They took a few pictures and a short video of the floes below, which drifted in neat rows spaced around eight meters apart at their closest right at the ledge, and separating into the distance away from this wall of cold metal. Iraklijs then resumed using Altair as a lantern, brighter than any flashlight, yet less eye-searing.
Zkeh squinted as his eyes adjusted to the newfound light, then glanced to look into the clear yet cramped endlessness of the tunnel, a contrast to the hazy yet spacious pea-soup outside. "When you have only two directionss: certain death, and uncertain ssafety, you have to take the way that iss possibly ssafe, and conssider the other to be an impenetrable wall."
"Since when were you all philosophical?" Iraklijs said.
Zkeh hissed. "It iss a quote from the Ghyakchazhhta Khhita," the chohjozra pulled out a small book from his pack, one seemingly too small for his bulky hands. Its cover was unnervingly similar in texture to his own species' hide, and opened vertically like a calendar. Inside were rows upon rows of tiny, angular black symbols on murky off-white paper.
"This looks handwritten," Iraklijs said. "I think you mentioned that book before but you never showed it to me."
"It iss... I copied it mysself when I was initiated to adulthood... all of uss have to sscribe the ssacred textss by hand. Thiss iss the ssmallesst one... it only coverss a twelfth of the Fifth Cossmic Era... only hass two hundred thoussand wordss."
Ekut was looking deeper into the tunnel with the binoculars, looking for any signs of movement. Upon hearing Zkeh's comment, she put the device down and cringed so hard that her large round ears curled and crumpled like wilting leaves. That was the sole evidence of the kaziil's brief breakdown, as she did not even glance behind her, instead continuing her observation shortly.
"Seems clear. I can't predict any traps and such, of course, but this seems to be some kind of duct more than a passageway, so it's probably safe enough," she finally said. "Let's go."
The five paced through the hall. Altair's glow revealed various holes and grates lining the floor and walls, which everyone knowingly tiptoed around. The tunnel began ever-so-gradually curving as they made their way down it. Curving both sideways and upwards, like some kind of overly long-winded spiral staircase. An image floated up in Iraklijs' mind, of an antique gum machine where gumballs rolled down a spiral pathway.
A deep rumbling echoed through the halls, and the image became more vivid. Everyone stopped in their tracks. Iraklijs panicked that the group would be unceremoniously flattened by a massive sphere.
...
"That wass my sstomach..." Zkeh hissed. "The rationss could digesst better..."
Iraklijs wiped the sweat off his forehead, Spots said a few brief, squeaky words in their native language and continued leading the explorers forwards.
"Spots, what should we do when... if... we find our way back to the vestibule?" Ekut said.
"Rest in the rover. Then go back in, probably taking the Ducky with us. And getting replacement guns," the bquaa said. "Then go very methodically. Extremely methodically."
"Of course."
"But... you know..." Iraklijs said. "Will being methodical save us from being kidnapped again? Something tells me that maybe we should pull out immediately after we leave and ask for reinf-- no, we're the only away team on the mission. Leave the planet alone and have--"
Ekut grimaced. "No. Frankly I'm not convinced that we couldn't map out most of this place, safely enough. Time is important. You know how the bquaa are with secrets," she glanced at Spots, "not all of them are as good at keeping info as Blup is. The knowledge of the facility will leak. And then human pirates will show up, the oschee mafia will show up, wkw opportunists will show up, and a rival archeology team from the Dal-Ghar Empire will show up. We have to move fast."
Iraklijs sighed. Such a common gesture for him. "You have a point."
Spots gurgled something.
The turns grew sharper and sharper, indicating that the spiral ramp was more of a cone. And every cone had a point.
At the point was a small cylindrical room, just wide enough for the group to fit and just tall enough for Iraklijs to stand. There were many nondescript, doorless tunnels branching out.
Stolen novel; please report.
But more importantly there was a familiar, red-tinted light coming in from above. It became apparent that it was evening outside. Because there was a deep well in the ceiling, casting light from the surface into the facility. It was around ten meters tall according to the rangefinger, well within reach of the grappling hook.
"Ekut! Lift us up! We're free!" Iraklijs jumped up and down in a daze. Safety!
The kaziil glanced at the well, then back at the rest of the group. "Are any of you, by any chance, literally liquid? Because the hole is maybe fifty centimeters wide. Even Spots wouldn't fit."
Tsip looked up. "I am pliable and can stretch my body. The issue is that I will be unable to carry heavy equipment or resupplies."
"Shit. I suppose we could just send a message... on the other hand I don't assume that a radio signal from our equipment will even reach the rover... Ekut, do you have any hunches regarding that?" Iraklijs said.
"What use are hunches? We have the equipment," the kaziil took out a radio attachment for her datapad: a kind of shell with a lot of knobs, buttons, and antennas that fit over the little computer's casing. She then pointed it up into the shaft and called up the rover's ID. Her comrades waited with bated breaths...
The pad beeped and displayed a few symbols accompanied by a voiceover in an alien language.
"...krann. Can't connect. Signal too weak. And we have no other radios to possibly use as a relay... even if we could get one up there... the signal cone would be broad enough to bounce off the atmosphere and reach the rover."
Iraklijs swore under his breath, but before anyone else could react, Spots had a realization. "Altair can function as a radio, yes right? Iraklijs, you give that pyramidy thingy to Tsip. Tsip slides or is pushed up. Sets Altair down. We use it to bounce signal. Good?"
Altair, who had little to comment beforehand, played a noise that sounded like Iraklijs' own sighs, but echoing several times with progressively more distortion. "I strongly dislike being separated from my master. Not after the incident on Akeruh. I still did not entirely forgive my master for it..."
Iraklijs facepalmed. "It's not my fault... do you expect me to behave rationally when I'm being chased by a man-eating squid disguised as an alien mangrove?"
"The water there was just water, at least," Altair said. "At least that was not in the flesh-garden at--"
A scraping sound, accompanied by the light of the well going out, interrupted their morbidly nostalgic exchange. Iraklijs turned his head and saw Zkeh and Spots pushing Tsip into the upwards tunnel, their black jumpsuit contorting alongside their flesh in a way that would tear any normal fabric and, for that matter, pulp any normal flesh. There was a reason that the kseldani disliked material goods, Iraklijs supposed. Any sophisticated equipment would not handle being squished so well.
"Forgot Altair! Iraklijs, give," Spots said, and the human complied. The crystal slowly blinked a brown color as Tsip pocketed it.
The taloned arms and pairs of tentacles did their work, and the kseldani's legs disappeared into the well. With a wet slithering noise, they began inching their way upwards. With Altair whisked away, there was now full darkness. The group turned their flashlights back on.
"Why are kseldani like this..." Iraklijs muttered.
"Not made of same cells, not same bones, not same organs and muscles as the rest," Spots said. "Precursors made. Wake up recently on a galactic scale. Then the ksel apparently spent a millennium or two dismantleizerificating their creators' ruins. Waste, waste, so much waste, but managed to get to space by learning from those toys."
"Oh, right. I wonder if it was the same precursors as the Silents... why aren't they more advanced than this? Like... they basically still live without automation in concrete anthills. If they were precursors' children..." he trailed off.
"Unlikely. Nope. Definitely not. Maybe not," the bquaa tilted their head from side to side. "You answered own question. Likely less advanced precursors. And yes... Spots said the ksel are wasteful. Still like them. Like them a lot. Both senses of like," they rambled. "They dull. A lot duller than bquaa. But still kin. Because kin have no hierarchy and no selfish desires... the Mh'azhi of Yig and sy!yvl of their Kingdom are half-kin: former, no hierarchy but have desire; latter have hierarchy-- all the hierarchy-- but no desire. Still good together all four of us yes. Trade. Cultural exchange. Population exchanges and assimilation."
"I see. You talked more coherently at the ship, Spots... why?" Iraklijs asked.
"Takes effort. Too much stress now. Do not want to. You understand, yes? Nothing else matters. That's language's purpose," Spots coiled up.
"Makes sense, I suppose... I guess we're also going that way. Compare the Age of Protests' 'formal' language with our written language. Much fewer rules about, for example, word order. And less weird spelling inconsistencies."
Ekut grimaced. "And what if you have some kind of... ambiguity that results in everything going wrong?"
"Techspeak dialect... dunno if you've learnt it with all those translators. It's fully unambiguous but I don't think anyone can speak it properly in real time, it's for papers and the law," Iraklijs said, leaning against the cold, curved wall of the chamber.
"And if you need to speak quickly and still have an ambiguity?"
"Then clarify," Iraklijs shrugged.
"And if you can't clarify enough in a panic?" Ekut grew exasperated.
"Never in my whole damn career has that happened to me or one my coworkers. There either always was time or the precise details didn't matter much. There is a thing as too much safety, Ekut. Think about the depth that would be lost by making language all-efficient and sterile," Iraklijs said.
Something clearly didn't process regarding that in Ekut's brain. She turned around and stared at the wall.
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Tsip used the fluid yet powerful muscles in their slim body to stretch and contract in rhythm, gradually approaching the light above, which seemed blinding after hours in intense darkness. The bumps and grooves of the tunnel made their squishy flesh flow like dough, melded with their outfit.
Finally, after several minutes of writhing their way up, the kseldani emerged. With a wet sound, they squeezed their way out, flopping onto the hard, glassy ground. Not needing to breathe was a benefit here; bulky tanks and pipes might not have survived the way up.
The kseldani looked around. The surface was not the cragged mess of the crater's bottom, and in fact the crater, according to the rover's signal ping, was around a kilometer to the south. Tsip noted down this important tidbit of data, but did not elect to walk there by themself... What if another storm broke out? Even their unique body would not handle being pounded to paste by a cascade of boulders.
"Just please, I beg you, do not forget me here like Iraklijs nearly did in the swamp," the crystal echoed as it was placed onto a stump-like flat-topped boulder.
"We don't forget. We are kseldani," Tsip said. "Do you have the radio set up properly? Can you hear the radio ping from Yangchen's rover?"
"Affirmative."
Tsip seemed as if they would have smiled, if they were capable of smiling, then turned around and dove back into the tunnel. The way down was much faster than the way up. They simply slid like a morsel of food in an esophagus, crashed down onto the hard floor of the chamber and struck a triumphant yet rigid pose. "Try now, Ekut," they said.
"Thank you so much!" Iraklijs hugged Tsip, and Spots joined in alongside Zkeh. Ekut was too busy resetting the radio and initiating a signal bounce.
The pad pinged as the call managed to connect. Yangchen's round face was visible amid immense amounts of static. There was likely some kind of obstruction between the rover and Altair, or perhaps a glassy dust-haze diffused the radio waves, but regardless the driver-doctor looked as if he was in the middle of a snowstorm.
"I didn't expect to see you! I was thinking something happened to you all," he said. "What's the deal?"
"Well, 'something' did happen..." Iraklijs rolled his eyes and explained everything, from the incident at the ledge to the kidnapping by the blob to the picnic in the nanite sea.
"I'm now glad that I'm not part of the exploration team," Yangchen said. "I hope I see you again soon, though."
Spots slithered up to the pad's small screen. "Transfer the call to Tekatl please."
Yangchen nodded, and the view shifted to an even more staticky view of the satla's lizardlike head and neck, against the background of the ship's lounge room, where the explorers discussed all the way before the landing. Some strange, warbling electronic noises filled up the audio, breaking through the static, punctuated by echoing beeps and staccato distorted chirps. At first, the team thought that these were just more audio glitches, but then...
"Lyiue, turn the volume down please, please! I know you like that musician, but, but it sounds like a malfunctioning robot drowning in, in molasses!" she turned and snarled to someone unseen. "Why do you even blast this awful racket? Not very Harmonious of you, is it, it?"
A small, high-pitched voice replied from offscreen, subtle nuances beyond human capability noticeable despite the low quality of the signal. "I beg your pardon, miss Tekatl, it is just that the letter just arrived, and in it she sent me her new album for free, all the way from 'Paradise'... but I will comply."
The experimental music faded down, and Iraklijs repeated his explanation. As he did so, being reminded of Lyiue gave him a faint inkling of an idea... still a seed in the soil of his mind.
"Anyways... What is the deal? And why is the feed so, so staticky?" Tekatl said.
Iraklijs explained everything in a more monotonous way than to Yangchen-- the excitement wore out with the repetition-- and then stated his request, as the seed gradually sprouted. "We would like some resupplies, as we're not sure for how much longer we will stay here. Lock on to Altair's location, and drop a pod with three more days' worth of food and drink, and replacement guns."
"Acknowledged," Tekatl nodded.
"...and by lock on to Altair's location, I mean lock on some ten or twenty meters to the side. Please don't crush my friend," Iraklijs added. Finally, the seed bloomed. "...and... is Lyiue still there?"
"Acknowledged. Yes, why?"
"Do we still have the shards of the disk? The one we broke at the station."
"Yes, why?"
"Give us them. It might still work. Maybe not in the way it worked before, but might as well. I'm no aapynngi, but I have a hunch, of the kind that I get when I know I'm on to something."