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The automaton neared Kunn and Jass, a searchlight play-
ing over their bodies, vivid even in bright sunshine. Their
garments carbothello pastel pencilsrippled, frisked by translucent fingers. Then the
robot dropped down, arms outstretched. Kunn and Jass lay
still as it poked, prodded, and lifted away with several ob-
jects in its pincers.
A signal must have been given, for a ramp then jutted
from the open hatchcarbothello pastel pencils, slanting to the bog. Who's going to go
traipsing around in that stuff? Dwer wondered. Are they
going to launch a boat?
He girded for some weird alien race, one with thirteen
legs perhaps, or slithering on trails of slime. Several great
clans had been known as foes of humankind, even in the
Tabernacles day, such as the legendary Soro, or the insect-
like Tandu. Dwer even nursed faint hope that the newcom-
ers might be from Eacarbothello pastel pencilsrth, come all this vast distance to rein
in their criminal cousins. There were also relatives of
hoons, urs, and qheuens out there, each with ships and
vast resources at their command.
n f I n i 11| ' s Shore 195
Figures appeared, twisting down the ramp into the open
air.
Rety gasped. "Them's traekis!"
Dwer stared at a trio of formidable-looking ring stacks,
with bandoliers of tools hanging from their toroids-of-ma-
nipulation. The tapecarbothello pastel pencilsred cones reached muddy water and
settled in. Abruptly, the flipper legs that seemed awkward
on the ramp propelled them with uncanny speed toward
the two survivors.
"But ain't traekis scarbothello pastel pencils'posed to be peaceful?"
They are, Dwer thought, wishing he had paid more at-
tention to the lessons his mother used to give Sara and
Lark. Readings from obscure books that went beyond what
you were taught in school. He reached back for a name,
but came up empty. Yet he knew a name existed. One that
inspired fear, once-upon-a-time.
"I don't" he whispered, then shook his head firmly. "I
don't think these are traeki. At least not like anyone's seen
here in a very long while."
Al vin
THE SCENE WAS HARcarbothello pastel pencilsD TO INTERPRET AT FIRST. HAZY
blue-green images jerked rapidly, sending shivers down
my still-unsteady spine. Huck and Pincer seemed to
catch on more quickly, pointing at various objects in the"
picture display, sharing knowing grunts. The experience
reminded me of our trip on Wupbon 's Dream, when poor
Alvin the Hoon was always the last one to grok what was
going on.
Finally, I realizcarbothello pastel pencilsedwe were viewing a faraway locale,
back in the world of sunshine and rain!
(How many times have Huck and I read about some
storybook character looking at a distant place by remote
control? It's funny. A concept can be familiar from novels,
yet rouse awe when you finally encounter it in real life.)
carbothello pastel pencils
Daylight streamed through watery shallows where green
fronds waved in a gentle tide. Schools of flicking, silvery
196 David B r i n
shapes darted pastspecies that our fishermen brought
home in nets, destined for the drying racks and stewpots of
hoonish khutas.
carbothello pastel pencils
The spinning voice said there were sound "pickups"
next to the moving camera lens, which explained the
swishing, gurgling noises. Pincer shifted his carapace,
whistling a homesick lament from all five vents, nostalgic
for the tidal pens of his red qheuen rookery. But Ur-ronn
soon had quite enough, turning her sleek head with a
queasy whine, made ill by the sight of all that swishing
water.
Slanting upward, the surf grew briefly violent. Then wa-
ter fled the cacarbothello pastel pencilsmera's eye in foamy sheets as our viewpoint
emerged onto a low sandscape. The remote unit scurried
inland, low to the ground.
"Normally, we would send a drone ashore at night. But
the matter is urgent. We must count on the land's hot glare
to mask its emergence."
Ur-ronn let out a sigh, relieved to see no more liquid
"Hr-rr . . . What's strange about that?"
"And red qheuens, living unsupervised by grays or
blues, beholden to no one, trading peacefully with their
hoonish neighbors."
Pincer huffed and vented, but the voice continued.
"Intrigued, we sent a submarine expedition beyond the
Rift. Our explorers followed one of your dross ships, collect-
ing samples from its sacred discharge. Then, returning to
base, our scout vessel happened on the urrish 'cache' you
were sent to recover. Naturally, we assumed the original
owners must be extinct."
"Oh?" Ur-ronn asked, archly. "Why is that?"
I n f i n i r i| ' s Shore 197
"Because we had seen living boon! Who would conceive
of urs and boon cohabiting peacefully within a shared
volume less broad than a cubic parsec? If boon lived, we
assumed all urs on Jijo must have died."
"Oh," Ur-ronn commented, turning her long neck to
glare at me.
"Imagine our surprise when a crude vessel plummeted
toward our submarine. A hollowed-out tree trunk contain-
ing"
The voice cut off. The remote unit was in motion again.
We edged forward as the camera eye skittered across sand
mixed with scrubby vegetation.
"Hey," Ur-ronn objected. "I thought you couldn't use
radio or anything that can ve detected from sface!"
"Correct."
"Then how are you getting these Pictures in real tine?"
"An excellent question, coming from one with no direct
experience in such matters. In this case, the drone needs
only to travel a kilometer or so ashore. It can deploy a fiber
cable, conveying images undetectably."
I twitched. Something in the words just spoken jarred
me, in an eerie-familiar way.
"Does it have to do with the exflosions?" Ur-ronn asked.
"The recent attack on this site vy those who would destroy
you?"
The spinning shape contracted, then expanded.
"You four truly are quick and imaginative. It has been
an unusual experience conversing with you. And I was
created to appreciate unusual experiences."
"In other words, yes," Huck said gruffly.
"Some time ago, alying machine began sifting this sea
with tentacles of sound. Hours later, it switched to drop-
ping depth charges in a clear effort to dislodge us from our
mound of concealing wreckage.
"Matters were growing dire when gravitic fields of a sec-
ond craft entered the area. We picked up rhythms of aerial
combat. Missiles and deadly rays were exchanged in a
brief, desperate struggle."
Pincer rocked from foot to foot. "Gosh-osh-osh!" he
sighed, ruining our pose of nonchalance.
turbulence.
