Read Online Neptune Crossing (The Chaos Chronicles) by Jeffrey A. Carver - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeffrey A. Carver
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whispered, /I want to know where you came from and why. And I want to know exactly what you want of me./
>> I shall try. Where would you like me to begin? >>
He shrugged mentally. /At the beginning, I guess./
>> Of time? I wasn't there. >>
He began to retort angrily, then realized that the quarx was attempting humor, attempting to lighten things up; and despite himself, he chuckled a little. /All right, you can start later than that. Let's stick to your personal lifetime. Unless, of course, you're really long-lived, in which case, you can start by telling what you want with me, and work backwards./
There was a moment of uneasy silence.
>> I'm...no...not long-lived, certainly not in the way you're thinking. It's true I was...in a sense...alive, millions of years ago, but that's...well...because I was in statis in the translator... >>
Bandicut tried to follow that, frowning. /You're not long-lived, but you were alive—in a sense—a million years ago?/
>> Yes, but the millions of years don't count, you see, because of the stasis...whereas, to understand a quarxian life cycle, the first thing you need to ask is... >>
Bandicut felt himself sliding toward mental quicksand, and interrupted, /All right, wait! How about if you explain all that later./ He paused, sensing the quarx's discomfiture at the interruption. /Let's start with the present, and this "mission" of yours. What is it you're planning to do here? What is this about Earth and some sort of danger?/
The quarx hesitated, as though uncomfortable with the question. Bandicut began to grow impatient, but before he could ask why, the quarx finally spoke.
>> You see...that's difficult to explain fully just now, because I don't have all of the information yet. The first thing I must do is gather additional data for the translator to process... >>
/Gather data?/ Bandicut asked suspiciously, visions of alien invasions dancing in his head.
>> No invasions, I assure you. Not from us, anyway. There may, indeed, be something heading for your home planet; but, I believe, it's more in the nature of cosmic debris—and it is my job, and the translator's, to identify that hazard and act to prevent it from striking. With your help, of course... >>
/Of course,/ Bandicut muttered. /What sort of help? And what kind of debris are we talking about?/
>> Well...I can't give you the specifics on the debris until we have the rest of that data. I can guess , but— >>
/ Guess? / Bandicut felt a rush of anger. /Quit bullshitting me, Charlie, or I'm going to go to our company quack Dr. Switzer and have him cut you out with a knife!/
He immediately sensed the quarx's affront.
>> I'm not "bullshitting" you, and I thought you understood that I have no physical presence as you think of it, so your doctor's knife could only harm you, not me. >>
Bandicut sighed in annoyance. /Look, that was just another figure of speech, okay? Now, do you want to continue?/
>> Oh. Very well. Here is what I was given: a picture of small, orbital-dynamical shifts somewhere in your solar system, leading to the potential hazard. I suspect it's some sort of sizable interplanetary rubble. Listen, John, you must understand that I'm not..."sitting in the left-hand seat" on this one, as you pilot-types would say. So I can't— >>
/Then who is sitting in the left-hand seat?/ Bandicut interrupted.
>> The translator. And once it has the data it needs to positively identify the danger...it will pass that information on to me. And I'll pass it on to you. >>
Bandicut thought he sensed a certain hesitation in the quarx's voice. /Wait just a minute,/ he said. /Who controls the translator? You do, right?/
>> Me? Hardly ... >>
Bandicut felt dizzy, and he sensed an eruption of troubled feelings in the quarx. /You mean there's someone else here? Damn it, I knew it—/
>> John, no . It's not what you're thinking. It's just the translator and me, and the translator is just a
>> I shall try. Where would you like me to begin? >>
He shrugged mentally. /At the beginning, I guess./
>> Of time? I wasn't there. >>
He began to retort angrily, then realized that the quarx was attempting humor, attempting to lighten things up; and despite himself, he chuckled a little. /All right, you can start later than that. Let's stick to your personal lifetime. Unless, of course, you're really long-lived, in which case, you can start by telling what you want with me, and work backwards./
There was a moment of uneasy silence.
>> I'm...no...not long-lived, certainly not in the way you're thinking. It's true I was...in a sense...alive, millions of years ago, but that's...well...because I was in statis in the translator... >>
Bandicut tried to follow that, frowning. /You're not long-lived, but you were alive—in a sense—a million years ago?/
>> Yes, but the millions of years don't count, you see, because of the stasis...whereas, to understand a quarxian life cycle, the first thing you need to ask is... >>
Bandicut felt himself sliding toward mental quicksand, and interrupted, /All right, wait! How about if you explain all that later./ He paused, sensing the quarx's discomfiture at the interruption. /Let's start with the present, and this "mission" of yours. What is it you're planning to do here? What is this about Earth and some sort of danger?/
The quarx hesitated, as though uncomfortable with the question. Bandicut began to grow impatient, but before he could ask why, the quarx finally spoke.
>> You see...that's difficult to explain fully just now, because I don't have all of the information yet. The first thing I must do is gather additional data for the translator to process... >>
/Gather data?/ Bandicut asked suspiciously, visions of alien invasions dancing in his head.
>> No invasions, I assure you. Not from us, anyway. There may, indeed, be something heading for your home planet; but, I believe, it's more in the nature of cosmic debris—and it is my job, and the translator's, to identify that hazard and act to prevent it from striking. With your help, of course... >>
/Of course,/ Bandicut muttered. /What sort of help? And what kind of debris are we talking about?/
>> Well...I can't give you the specifics on the debris until we have the rest of that data. I can guess , but— >>
/ Guess? / Bandicut felt a rush of anger. /Quit bullshitting me, Charlie, or I'm going to go to our company quack Dr. Switzer and have him cut you out with a knife!/
He immediately sensed the quarx's affront.
>> I'm not "bullshitting" you, and I thought you understood that I have no physical presence as you think of it, so your doctor's knife could only harm you, not me. >>
Bandicut sighed in annoyance. /Look, that was just another figure of speech, okay? Now, do you want to continue?/
>> Oh. Very well. Here is what I was given: a picture of small, orbital-dynamical shifts somewhere in your solar system, leading to the potential hazard. I suspect it's some sort of sizable interplanetary rubble. Listen, John, you must understand that I'm not..."sitting in the left-hand seat" on this one, as you pilot-types would say. So I can't— >>
/Then who is sitting in the left-hand seat?/ Bandicut interrupted.
>> The translator. And once it has the data it needs to positively identify the danger...it will pass that information on to me. And I'll pass it on to you. >>
Bandicut thought he sensed a certain hesitation in the quarx's voice. /Wait just a minute,/ he said. /Who controls the translator? You do, right?/
>> Me? Hardly ... >>
Bandicut felt dizzy, and he sensed an eruption of troubled feelings in the quarx. /You mean there's someone else here? Damn it, I knew it—/
>> John, no . It's not what you're thinking. It's just the translator and me, and the translator is just a
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