This is a fan translation of The Faraway Saikat (Далёкий Сайкат) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the second book in a series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна), which is a spin-off from the author's Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака) six-book series.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

The Book of the Beginning and the End cannot be seen as the Kni'lina analog of the Bible, the Quran, the Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, or any other holy text of ancient Earth. First and foremost, the Book of Yezdan is impersonal, as God says nothing about himself in it or demands anything from his people, doesn't threaten them or enlighten them directly. This Book lacks the storytelling foundation present in the Old and New Testaments, the ancient Hindu or Chinese epics, and even, to a certain extent, in the Quran; Yezdan the Gray-eyed does not tell us any historical facts, either real or fictional, and his Book seems to exist outside of time and the Kni'lina civilization that has produced it. In effect, it's a collection of maxims, behavioral norms, and ethical principles, which could apply to any humanoid culture. If we look for the human analogs to the Book of Yezdan, then it would most likely be collections of wise thoughts of great individuals or Buddhist mantras.

Pal Bonjipadhal

Analogies Between Buddhism and Yezdan'tabi

Chapter 8

The Fifth Corpse

They were crowded in the hallway, standing without maintaining cono, next to the body of the linguist, the former secret Eye of the Horada. It appeared that all of them were there: the gloomy Third Pilot, the giant botanist Fourth Evening, Iutin in a white house robe, the thin Naya Acra, the scared to death Ifta Kee, and, naturally, Second Depth. Seven servants, those not on duty at the control center, were clustered farther away, crouching and spreading their hands, whenever any of the honorable ones turned to them. Everyone? No, not everyone, Trevelyan noted silently; First Course was absent. Perhaps he was still lying in the meeting hall or had crawled away to his quarters to recover his neurons. He raised his gaze to look at Second Depth, but her face was a mask of calm and impassiveness with a slight shade of sadness. No recollections about the night of their mutual fall and definitely no hint about the stolen knife, the one sticking out of Zend Una's neck. The blow had been dealt with the hand of a master: both the throat and the carotid artery were severed, so the body was floating in a large pool of blood. A quarter of an hour had passed since the moment of death, but each and every one knew that the exsanguinated brain was dead, so there was no point dragging Zend Una to the auto-surgeon or into a hibernation sarcophagus.

"This blade is familiar to me," the silence was broken by the priestess's creaking voice. She bent over the linguist, brought a tiny detector to the knife's rifled handle, then her eyes pierced Trevelyan like the fangs of a snake. "No fingerprints, of course, but this is a Hairy object. Yours?"

"Mine, I won't deny it." Ivar was gripped by a sense of helplessness, but he knew he had to explain himself. He had to, but the explanations were sounding so ridiculous!

Third Pilot and Fourth Evening shifted towards him as one. Naya Acra produced a paralyzer from out of her saigor's sleeve. Ifta Kee jerked, while Iutin waved his hands in protest. Only Second Depth remained motionless. Her gray eyes were as cold as ice, and she was looking at Trevelyan with mild derision.

You got screwed, lad, the Commodore informed him. Treat it philosophically. Even the best of us get screwed over by women.

Ivar swallowed. He wasn't afraid of physical reprisal, the skin would keep him safe, but the loss of face was burning with unbearable shame. Grandpa was right, he'd gotten screwed! Which of them had been hooked: the woman or the dumb hairy male? The answer to that was clear.

"Just because the knife is mine doesn't mean I killed Zend Una," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "The knife was stolen from me. Last night, by a woman."

"Not many women here," Naya Acra noted, tossing the paralyzer in her hand. "Great Yezdan! Any sort of marvel can happen! Could that have been me?"

Trevelyan found the strength to chuckle.

"No marvels here. To my taste, nyuri, you're too gaunt and not young enough."

"Not young enough…" the priestess repeated, baring her teeth. "You have no idea, mshak, how 'not young' I am! So, not me. Who then? This one or that one?" She pointed with the paralyzer first at Ifta Kee, then at Second Depth.

"A noble man does not answer such questions," Trevelyan said. "Last night, all video cameras in my quarters were turned off, but when I was coming to my door… not alone, with that woman… when we were coming," he emphasized the word "we", "the Brain recorded that episode. Shall we ask it for its testimony?"

"Station," the botanist Evening spoke quietly, "show us that recording."

"The recording and the memory of it have been removed," the computer replied. "The memory of that fact has been blocked. No information on who has done that."

She's got a contact helmet, and she knows how to use it at least as good as you, the ghostly Advisor grumbled. She managed to wipe away the last trace! Told you she was a witch!

Naya Acra raised the paralyzer to point right at Trevelyan's chest. Will I be able to dodge it? he thought, feeling the skin grow tense.

"You deleted that recording!" the priestess shouted. "You did it! There was no woman! Even Ifta Kee, who…"

She was interrupted by the green-eyed beauty's piercing shriek. Burying her face in her hands, Jeb Ro's girlfriend was backing away down the hallway on unsteady legs, away from the other honorable ones and the small crowd of servants. A food dispenser was standing in a recess, fifteen paces from the door to Zend Una's lab, in case someone wanted to grab a bite to eat or have some juice. Ifta Kee grazed it with her shoulder and stuffed herself into the narrow opening between the wall and the dispenser.

Watching her with a mocking expression, Second Depth said, "No, doesn't look like it's her! Definitely not her. You see, even the idea of playing with a mshak in weightlessness frightens her! Me too, by the way." She turned to Trevelyan. The ice in her eyes grew even colder. "You're not going to insist, Hairy, that I went with you, got undressed, and spent the whole night floating over your bed with my legs spread?"

"I do not see you," Trevelyan spoke dryly.

It was a Kni'lina insult. Someone in power could say that to his subordinate, a Poharas aristocrat could say it to his servant, and it indicated displeasure with that person. But among equals, or almost equals, the phrase's meaning changed: it indicated not merely displeasure, but scorn of the highest sort, as if to say, "I don't see you, don't hear you, and don't wish to talk to you!"

"Why you, savage spawn…" Second Depth's face was warped in fury, but she managed to stay in control, noticing that four honorable ones were staring at her, while the servants were starting to elbow one another and whisper. A moment later, her features smoothed over. Almost professional restraint, Trevelyan noted. Who was she really? Another Eye of the Horada? Or an agent from a different department? This lady was clearly not new to secrecy, or to seducing men. Dumb hairy human xenologists, he added to himself. Then he said, "There has to be another recording. This door has a camera."

"There is a recording, and I have watched it." Third Pilot stared at the door thoughtfully. "But the killer was outside the pickup. The knife was thrown. From there." He pointed at the food dispenser. "The killer hid right about where nyuri Ifta Kee is standing. After waiting for Zend Una to come out, he threw the blade. With great skill. I couldn't have done it."

Upon hearing that she was standing where the killer had been, Ifta Kee shook and quickly left her hiding spot. Fourth Evening offered, "No sense standing here. Let's enter the lab and view the recording, while the servants can take the body and prepare the ogihon for two funeral rites. First Blade's and Zend Una's…" He shook his head with a grim look. "Who will be next?"

Rounding the body and the pool of blood, the Kni'lina followed one another into the linguist's workspace. Even now they were maintaining a measure of subordination, which had been established in mere minutes using means unknown to Trevelyan. The priestess was walking first, followed by Second Depth, Third Pilot, Fourth Evening, Ifta Kee, and, finally, Iutin. He was the only one wearing a large house robe, everyone had managed to get dressed, some wearing a saiteni, and some a saigor. No one let Trevelyan go first, but Ifta Kee was staring at him as if begging for help. As he was passing by, Iutin whispered, "There's no reason for alarm. Yezdan will help."

The servants summoned a cyber-cleaner and a small grav-platform. Evect and Zotahi placed the body on it, while Shiar reached for the knife hesitantly.

"Pull it out and place it in a container without wiping the blood. Is there a cabinet or a safe in the Central?"

"There is. The nyuri is correct," Shiar muttered.

"Put the knife in it."

"It will be done." Shiar looked back at the platform floating down the hallway and whispered very quietly, "None of us believes that the nyuri from Earth did that. The Book of Yezdan says to beware the obvious."

"Thank you, Shiar. A good person is a morning joy."

Nodding, he entered the linguist's lab. It was a standard oval-shaped room, since the Kni'lina weren't fond of corners or joints that were too sharp. At the center was a projector and a computer terminal, at the far end was a short arch, pillows were scattered along the walls, boxes with crystals and several ancient Kni'lina books that looked like yellow plastic accordions were stored in narrow horizontal recesses at chest level. One of the books was particularly large and was lying in a chest with an open lid. The Book of Yezdan, Ivar realized, remembering that Zend Una had been a religious Poharas.

"Everyone is here. In Yezdan's name, we can begin," the priestess spoke dryly.

"Everyone, except for First Course," Iutin clarified.

"We'll make do without him." Naya Acra was still twirling the paralyzer rod in her fingers. "Station! Episode of Zend Una's death. From the moment he rose and headed for the exit."

"Of course, nyuri."

A silver haze appeared and vanished. Zen Una, rubbing his hairless scalp, rose from a pillow. He looked tired, having probably spent a sleepless night at the terminal. Muttering something, the linguist bent down, picked up the hypnoglyph container, and headed for the door. Changing numbers appeared at the top; the station's Brain was counting down the time for the viewers in human seconds and Kni'lina time units. A second recording unfolded slightly to the side of the main one: the external camera was picking up a part of the empty hallway in front of the door to the lab, the floor and the opposite wall, which smoothly transitioned into the ceiling. This external video sensor, unlike the internal ones, was fixed, just a tiny dot above the door, an eye to see a visitor and show them to the owner.

The door opened, Zend Una stepped over the threshold. Trevelyan already knew what he was going to see, and the holorecording confirmed that feeling: the blade, flying seemingly from out of nowhere, the back of the linguist's head, and then his figure, collapsing onto the floor, and the blood starting to spurt from the severed artery. Zend Una had died either instantly or in a matter of seconds.

"The throw came from the right, so I think the killer was standing behind the food dispenser," Third Pilot commented on the scene. "Waiting for Zend Una to come out."

She pierced his throat from twenty meters away, the Commodore added. A dangerous woman! Clever, cunning, and knows how to set anyone up. All the evidence points to you.

As if listening to the mental conversation, Naya Acra grated, "The recording does not prove the human's innocence. On the contrary, the knife, the disabled communication channels, the deleted information in the Brain's memory… He is the killer!"

"You think I'm a complete moron to kill with my own knife and leave such a piece of evidence behind?" Trevelyan asked.

"That is true," Evening suddenly backed him up. "If a crime was being planned, then―"

"What else could he have used to kill?" Naya Acra interrupted the botanist. "I checked his luggage. He had no other weapons but an axe and a knife. As for the mental capabilities of the Hairies…" She jerked her head. "I have my own opinion on that subject."

"We need to send a report to Yezdan," Third Pilot said and passed his hand over the linguist's terminal. A frame with Kni'lina written symbols appeared in mid-air. "I see that Zend Una has already composed a message… We'll add to it and send."

"After the funeral ceremony," Naya Acra grunted. "We'll lock the Hairy here. I'll block the communication channels to the Brain, so that he―"

"A hasty decision, nyuri," Iutin noted quietly. "He is not guilty of anything."

The priestess turned to him sharply.

"Is that what you think, Zinto?"

"I do. Because I know who killed Zend Una and the two coordinators. The one who is not here."

It seemed this conclusion shocked Trevelyan and Second Depth most of all. The rest, immediately forgetting all dignity, started shouting over one another like servants.

"First Course?"

"The abomination from Tow killed Jeb Ro?"

"What proof do you have?"

"What about the knife? The human's knife? Is that not proof?"

Iutin shook his wide robe.

"I took the knife. When we were returning from Saikat, nyuri Trevelyan was piloting the shuttle. Course and I were sitting in the second row, and an open container with the human's camp equipment was standing farther back. I wanted to take a look at it: a knife, an axe, a flashlight, a mirage device, some other things… There simply was nothing to do. I put all the objects back, except for the knife. I remember that well: we dove into the airlock, nyuri Trevelyan secured the ship, and I hurried to First Blade to give him the recording crystals. The knife was left on my seat, but when the servants started to unload the shuttle, the knife wasn't there. I remember that too: I went back to the ship to throw the knife into the container, and when I didn't see it, I decided that the human had already done that. But it was Course who took the blade."

Third Pilot's wrinkly face expressed his doubt, Ifta Kee gasped, the botanist Evening made an approving gesture, while Second Depth was staring at the ceiling with an innocent look; it was possible that such a turn of events worked for her. As for Naya Acra, the priestess's eyelid was jerking, while her scalp became covered in scarlet spots.

"Great Yezdan!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "Then why didn't you say anything, you fool?"

"I was looking for a motive, and that requires time to think," the geneticist replied dispassionately. "Course had an argument with Zend Una and would have killed him yesterday, if not for, I would like to remind you, nyuri Trevelyan's assistance. But let's not dwell on that; the important thing is that Course had a motive in this case. First Blade he killed for two reasons: to take charge of the Ni group and to keep Jeb Ro's murder from being solved. These are also understandable motives and obvious logic… But why had he thrown the javelin at Jeb Ro? I thought about that, and now I know why."

The five Kni'lina were listening to him with a tense attention, almost forgetting about maintaining their cono. Trevelyan was listening too, but he was also slowly moving through the room, trying to stay away from the men and women standing by the terminal. They weren't looking at him, and, taking advantage of that, he was examining the recesses and the objects located there, peering into the boxes with crystals and the spaces between the books, studying the floor, especially near the cushions, and looking back at the open door. He was looking, and wasn't finding.

Iutin was continuing to explain.

"Like some of you, nyuri Jeb Ro suspected Course of being an abomination from Tow. However, being the Coordinator, he could not limit himself to mere suspicions, he wished to know for certain. The nyuri wanted me to test him, he and I spoke about this several times, forgetting that such creatures have excellent hearing and plenty of cunning…" Iutin lowered his eyes sadly, but then quickly raised them to look at Trevelyan. "When the observer from Earth came, I figured out a way to test Course: we were going to do it on Saikat, which is why Jeb Ro included him in the field team. But he beat us to it!" Iutin's voice rose to a tragic crescendo. "After killing the Coordinator, he entered the cave and, as if in a fit of fury, started slaughtering the savages. But they were not the target, nyuri Trevelyan and I were. He would have killed us with a Terre or a Tazinto weapon and put all the blame on them and our own carelessness… But nyuri Trevelyan managed to stop him."

"Stop? An abomination from Tow?!" Fourth Evening exclaimed in amazement.

"Yes. I suspect that the human is very strong and knows certain moves… I have seen it myself and was also surprised. I owe him my life."

Silence fell, and Trevelyan was frozen near the recess with an enormous Book of Yezdan. His colleagues were thinking over what they'd just heard, only Second Depth turned to him and, replacing the ice in her eyes with a mocking expression, spoke with a look, Maybe you don't see me, Hairy, but you and I both know that it's all nonsense, that this Zinto is telling tall tales to these fools! Echoing Ivar's thought, the Commodore, being in complete agreement with the woman, whispered, That Judas is a quick-witted one! A believable version… almost believable… Well, beggars can't be choosers.

Naya Acra once again threw an incinerating gaze at him.

"What were you saying about a woman stealing your knife, human? Didn't you notice as soon as you returned that it was gone? You did check your equipment, didn't you?"

Iutin was smiling. The smile was telling him to be careful.

"I took many things with me and didn't have time to go through them all," Trevelyan muttered in embarrassment. "We were all so busy… the funeral rite, the deaths of First Blade and Ori, then the meeting, where Course nearly killed the Eye of the Horada… I kept constantly feeling my head spin and my thoughts wonder…" Clamping down hard on his pride, he finished, "You, nyuri, have you own opinion about the mental capabilities of humans… Perhaps it's a correct one."

The priestess's mouth stretched, her jaw dropped, exposing sharp teeth. A grimace of disdain, Trevelyan realized. You're going to pay her back for that, and that witch that is so good at throwing knives too, the ghostly Advisor whispered again. Remember where you come from! No one dares to make fun of us! Anyone who tried got pushed face-down into shit! All of them! The Faata, the Dromi, the Haptors, and these Baldies! If we have to, we'll to it again!

Third Pilot patted his knee with his hand.

"What we have heard is surprising but possible. Can you also explain one other thing, nyuri Iutin? The one I already asked about. How was the panoramic recording erased?"

The geneticist shrugged in a very human manner.

"What do we know about abominations from Tow? They are studied by specialists, none of whom are among us, and the necessary information is not in the Brain's memory ― it's a secret matter, after all. Maybe Course is capable of blocking video sensors remotely or move faster than a scan can pick him up… I don't know! But here is one fact: he brought the hypnoglyph to the station, even though our things were thoroughly inspected. I'm certain he hid it here, in his own body." Iutin touched his chest. "And the speed with which he was killing the savages! You have seen our recordings… It was monstrous!"

"He is a monster," Evening muttered, shuddering. "And now he is roaming somewhere deep in the station…"

The Kni'lina exchanged glances. They knew something about this Course, whom no one was referring to as First or Second anymore, something unknown to Trevelyan and very unpleasant. Frightening even! An abomination from Tow… This euphemism meant nothing to him and wasn't mentioned in any of the dictionaries of Kni'lina dialects.

"Station!" Third pilot called. "Information on the location of Course."

"At this moment, no data is available," the artificial intelligence replied. "After leaving the meeting hall, he retired to his own quarters and spent there…" It stated the time equal to approximately five and a half hours. "He was lying motionless, then got up, went out into the hallway, and disappeared from the pickup of the upper tier cameras."

"He knows the locations of the video sensors and is avoiding them," Evening said.

"He has recovered completely," Second Depth added. "He can't be destroyed with a mental pulse."

"Not destroyed, but he can be damaged," Naya Acra countered.

"You mean to say that the fool Zend Una ruined the stability of his mind?"

"To a certain degree," the priestess/psychologist confirmed. "A palustar is a powerful device… a collapse of neural connections is inevitable. The only question is how many of them have been destroyed and in which parts of the brain."

"That is just what we need!" Fourth Evening slouched, immediately looking smaller.

"I told you Zend Una was a fool!"

"What else could he have done?" Third Pilot entered the discussion.

It looks like our rat nest has been stirred, the Commodore summarized silently. Lad, do you understand what's happening?

Not entirely, Grandpa. Apparently, this Course isn't a Kni'lina… not entirely a Kni'lina… And they're afraid of him.

A robot?

Out of the question. Such a high level of intelligence wouldn't allow him to kill.

Naya Acra put her paralyzer away, hiding it in her sleeve.

"In Yezdan's name, enough of this empty talk! Have the station search for Course and report when he's found, while we handle the urgent business. First, the due to the dead, and then we send a long-range message…" She turned to Trevelyan, "You, mshak, are not required to be present at the funeral ceremony; in fact, I'm certain that it would be best for you to not be there. And I have not yet recanted my suspicions of you."

"I need access to communications," Trevelyan spoke.

"We cannot refuse him that," Evening nodded. "It is his right. We and the humans have joint ownership of the station."

After brief hesitation, the priestess agreed.

"Fine, you may go to the Central and send your message. But first I will read it."

"You can read Earth Lingua?"

"The Brain will translate," the priestess replied casually and headed for the exit. The others followed her out. Iutin was once again walking last and, again, when passing Trevelyan, whispered, "Go to my laboratory. I will be there after the rite."

The room emptied, suddenly becoming far too large for a linguist's modest office. Unlike the living spaces, this place only had a single arch, separating a parlor with the facilities. Trevelyan headed there, activated the scanner in his headband, checked the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and the bottom of the empty round pool. Then he repeated this in the lab, but with no success; there were clearly no secret compartments here. Having made sure of that, he started examining the boxes and books in the wall recesses.

What are you looking for? the ghostly Advisor asked.

The hypnoglyph and the mental emitter, the one they call palustar. Zend Una took both of those things with him, but I can't find them here.

He could've left them in his quarters.

No. He had to have been keeping the emitter on hand. It wasn't just a weapon to him, but a symbol of his status and authority… I'm sure the palustar was with him, and the hypnoglyph was with the palustar.

Why do you care where they are?

A hypnoglyph is too dangerous to leave it in someone else's hands. As for the palustar… It's not a bad weapon if I happen to encounter Course. I won't be able to beat him in the skin.

There is another way, Grandpa reminded him.

There was, but it was a last resort, and Trevelyan didn't want to make use of it unless absolutely necessary. After searching through the recesses, he stopped at the center of the room, by the holoprojector and the terminal. Apparently, the Kni'lina did not make use of personal computers, instead working directly with the Brain; at the very least, he hadn't seen any such auxiliary devices in any of the labs. The commands were given with voice and gestures, Ivar also hadn't noticed any contact helmets, which was understandable: mental communication required lots of skill and certain talents. Then again, Second Depth clearly had such a helmet, as well as the experience necessary to use it; the only way to erase data from the station's memory was via a direct mental link.

After thinking about this, he got a bad feeling, sat down on a cushion in front of the terminal, and called up the data array holding the expedition's materials and where the as-yet unseen report of the first geneticist was located, sealed with a dual password. Connecting to the computer in his quarters, Trevelyan sent the necessary codes, and the port opened up before him. Unfortunately, he didn't find any secrets, just like he hadn't found the hypnoglyph or the palustar: emptiness was gaping at him through the open gates. Nothing! There was absolutely nothing there!

"Station!" he called.

"Here, nyuri Trevelyan."

"Where is the data on Second Depth's work?"

"She copied the information onto a crystal and erased the original arrays."

"When?"

"At four-eighteen at night. Would you like to know the precise second?"

She beat me to it! Trevelyan thought and cursed.

"No, tin can. That's enough."

So, she left around four, while you were sleeping like a rock, the Commodore noted. She grabbed your knife, went back to her place, modified the memory, extracted your data. Then she went to wait at the linguist's door… In short, she played you, moron! I've never had such lop-eared jackasses in my gene pool! By the Lord of Emptiness!

Trevelyan grimaced and nodded reluctantly. His ancestor's reproach was justified: no hypnoglyph, no palustar, no mysterious reports! Plus four dead bodies with him as the suspect! If not for Iutin, everything could have turned out badly, dishonorably, and absurdly; at best, it would have ended in a fight and flight, and, at worst, he'd be lying paralyzed in this room and staring sadly up at the ceiling.

Imagining such a shameful outcome, Trevelyan shuddered and said aloud, "Why not give me advice, Grandpa, instead of cursing me out? This is your job, after all!"

Take charge of the Baldies, kid! the Commodore barked.

"How so?"

The recipe is pretty simple: that dry fish priestess, slam her face-first against a wall, then either inject her with a sedative or freeze her before she comes to. The witch that burned you, throw her out the airlock, then interrogate Judas ― that bastard knows something! Course… Well, I can help you catch that idiot, and you won't have any trouble with the other Baldies. They seem to be of the calmer sort.

"The answer of a soldier, not a politician," Trevelyan said, leaving the linguist's lab.

I am a soldier, came the reply.

The inner hallway, where Ivar found himself, was arch-shaped, surrounding the park in a semicircle. On its outer side, meaning the one directed towards the edge of the disc-shaped satellite, were the labs, the offices, and the research facilities, some of which were empty and waiting for the human specialists. The other side bordered the park, and an opaque wall of the first moon color stretched there for about two hundred meters, with the arch ending in two crystal acredeit bulkheads, allowing one to enjoy the view of a golden field, mountains, and the forest visible beyond them. Where the yellow plastic bordered the crystal, there were places for relaxation, connected to another chord-like hallway. The relaxation place closest to the linguistic lab was furnished in the Kni'lina style: pillows were floating in a zero-g area, a fountain was gurgling, and around it stood Terre figures, not holograms, genuine stone statues. Another relaxation place was made in the human style: chaise lounge-like chairs, a Saikatian pine at the center, short, but with a thick trunk, with three bronze Tazinto raising their spears and clubs next to it. The conference room, the control center, and the sealed calibration chamber for the bioemitter, which was capable of wiping out intelligence on the planet or move a civilization forward in leaps and bounds, were located in the space between the arch-like and the chord-like hallways. Besides the relaxation places and about three dozen doors, the hallways also had food dispensers and four elevators that led to the lower level.

Trevelyan headed for the far relaxation place, the human one, reflecting on whether the was some kind of hint in the statues here. There probably was one, as the station's builders had been born on Khaira and Yezdan. Humans, hairy carnivores, were firmly associated with the Tazinto in their minds, while the Terre may have been covered in fur, but they were still vegetarians and, therefore, cleaner, worthy, and closer to the Kni'lina. This idea was likely the prevailing one among the Ni, which was reflected in First Blade's plans; the less aggressive and more ingenious Poharas would have probably come up with something more delicate in order to have some quiet fun at the expense of their human colleagues.

Ivar passed the offices of anthropology and paleontology, the closed dead doors that reminded him of the deaths of Blade and Jeb Ro. The door to the botanist's lab was active but was only barely glowing, indicating that the room was empty. Of course, he thought; everyone was at the funeral service, preparing the ashes for the urns. The next door, painted a gentle green color, led to the xenology section, where his own office was located, a place he hadn't even tried to inhabit, as the maze of empty passages and rooms filled with a pressing silence made him feel depressed. Beyond the xenology section, which was only meant for humans, was the location of the genetics complex, the workplace of Iutin, Ifta Kee, and Second Depth: offices, five labs filled with analytical equipment, and an infirmary with an autodiagnostician, cybersurgeons, and cryogenic pods. Trevelyan entered, listened—it was quiet—and found Iutin's work section. The large oval room looked like Zend Una's office, which he'd just left, but it seemed smaller, as it was cluttered with various devices, sample containers, biochemical analysis equipment, consoles, and screens. Finding the station comm terminal, Ivar sat on the pillow in front of it and thought for a moment.

If not for the story with Second Depth, he could have believed Iutin's version. Course, an abomination from Tow, was perfect for the role of the killer; his motivations were understandable, and his oddities could be explained by the fact that his nature differed from that of a normal Kni'lina. He probably wasn't even humanoid, although Trevelyan couldn't determine his nature at this time. Some monster created in a lab? It was possible, especially if he recalled Course's metabolism, which was so very much unlike that of the Kni'lina! Iutin had probably confirmed that by slipping him alcohol instead of Tintakh wine…

So, an artificial creature? But this idea wasn't a very good explanation. How the flesh, muscles, bones, blood, and internal organs had come to be wasn't that important, as all that could be cloned or produced from biosubstitutes, organosilicon, and molecular circuits, resulting in an android that looked like a Kni'lina on the outside. The brain and the mind were the key components! What was hidden in Course's body: a higher-level artificial intelligence or the brain of a living person? Only the answer to this question could shed some light on this situation. It seemed as if his ability to kill ruled out the first possibility, but Ivar was no longer certain of that, since Iutin had mentioned that abominations from Tow were being worked on by specialists and that it was a secret subject. Kni'lina technology was at about the same level as that of the humans, so who knew what they could do?

To get back to Iutin's version of events, he thought that its primary appeal was how well it encapsulated everything: four dead bodies, one killer, a sequential chain of events, and clear motives for the crimes. But his intuition told him that it was far too simple, especially since Course hadn't been the one to steal the knife and throw it at the linguist. Trevelyan had a feeling that different people were involved in what happened aboard the station and on the surface of Saikat, and each of them had their own motive, their own reason to get rid of a particular member of the expedition, and their own goal, which differed greatly from the goals of their rivals. Like a pile of crystalbooks, made up of romance novels, fairy tales, scientific treatises, and who knew what else… But this at first glance random compilation could be hiding its own logic or, which was more likely, a commonality, like, for example, that all the books belonged to the same person or were stored in the same box.

Iutin entered, interrupting Ivar's train of thought. The third geneticists had managed to stop by his own quarters and get changed; he was wearing a working saiteni of the day color instead of a domestic cloak or a ritualistic apron. His bare arms were intertwined with veins, the skin under his jaw sagged slightly, and Trevelyan thought that Iutin might not be a young man. Another thought caught up to the first one: perhaps it had been trials and humiliation that had aged him rather than years.

"Blade and Zend Una's ashes are already in the funeral urns," the geneticist said, sitting down across from Trevelyan. "We sent them off in accordance with the custom, by spilling a drop of blood each, both the religious Poharas and the Ni, who reject Yezdan's divinity. But as he said, religion is merely the dress of true faith."

Trevelyan thought that it was not the right time to discuss the subject. He cleared his throat and grunted, "You helped me, Iutin. Why? You must know that Course didn't steal the knife and had nothing to do with the murder of the Eye of the Horada."

"Naturally. Of course. Course killed Jeb Ro and likely First Blade and the servant, while Zend Una was dealt with by Second Depth, with whom you have spent the night with the carelessness inherent in humans. I had to lie. A white lie, that's what you call it, isn't it?"

"Don't accuse me of carelessness. Why don't you answer my question instead: why?"

The skin on the geneticist's head wrinkled. He scratched his head, thought for a moment, then said, "Events are still unfolding, and we're going to need you, Ivar Trevelyan, all of us will. The price of the morning house is high! If you're isolated, it's going to weaken us, and the abomination from Tow might become a problem."

"We've never heard of such creatures before."

"There's much you didn't and still don't know about us. Or, perhaps, the ones whose task is to observe our race do know. Not the Foundation xenologists, humans from another agency."

Ivar nodded silently. The services of the Star Fleet possessed a lot more information about races with a high TD index than the Foundation, which dealt with archaic cultures.

"So what is this Course?" he asked after a pause. "And what does your Tow colony have to do with it?"

Iutin chuckled.

"I hope I don't get accused of treason, for I can only tell you rumors, not knowing the truth myself. But, just in case… Station! You will erase this conversation!" After receiving confirmation, he continued, "It is said that a method has been discovered for transplanting a person's brain and splicing it with silicate flesh that imitates the body in all details. Such beings are very strong and possess a high degree of regeneration. They eat little and drink much; any liquid will work to maintain their energy balance. And no loss of intelligence…"

"Excellent soldiers, I imagine. Better than combat robots."

"Perhaps. The Ni rulers have always dreamt of a rematch. To them, humans are no different from the Tazinto. Destroying those hairy savages or devolving them back to animals is a sort of revenge against Earth… a small one, but still revenge. I'm sure you've sensed that."

"I have." Trevelyan exchanged mental pulses with the Commodore and confirmed that he was recording the conversation. Then he asked, "What else is being said?"

"That the transplanted brain can be either cloned or extracted from a dead man in the first moments of death. The latter is preferable, as it preserves memories, knowledge, and experience, but there are certain problems… I don't know which ones. Maybe not every brain is suitable, so there aren't many such beings." Iutin paused and smiled once more. "I think your… hmm… observers are aware of that fact, which is why Earth isn't worried. As the Gray-eyed said, ten strong people cannot defeat millions of weak ones."

"Is that all?"

"Almost. The rest has to do with Tow. It's a very remote world at the outskirts of our sector… Ice, snow, permafrost, cold ocean… It belongs to the Ni Clan, and they do whatever they want there."

"All right," Trevelyan said, "we've got this settled. So we have four corpses and a cyborg killer with a damaged brain on the loose, whom your science department included in the expedition. Do they have any idea what he is?"

"I doubt it. Jeb Ro and First Blade were the ones to select the members of the expedition from the Poharas and the Ni. Blade had to have known… Clearly he'd had a need for Course."

"To deliver the hypnoglyph?" Trevelyan asked sarcastically, but the question remained unanswered. "Fine, I won't insist. Let talk about Second Depth and Zend Una. What happened between them?"

"I already told you that both are from Tizana. The Poharas and the Ni on that planet are feuding."

"Enough that they're prepared to slit one another's throat?"

Iutin lowered his head. What was he thinking about in those minutes? Of his strange species that was so similar and, at the same time, so unlike humanity? Of his people, split in two halves by an ancient curse and incapable of rejoining due to being unable to produce offspring that would be simply Kni'lina, not Poharas or Ni? Or was he reflecting on something personal, sorrowful, and tragic? Of the fate of an outcast, who had been accepted among the worthy ones but would always remain last in their midst? Of wounded pride, trampled honor, unsatisfied ambition? Or of more important things, for it wasn't pride, honor, and ambition that lay at the root of all Creation, it was life and death?..

"Listen, nyuri," the geneticist looked at Trevelyan. "You've been traveling the galaxy for years, you're an experienced and mature man, and you must understand that people are different. There are those among the Ni and the Poharas who prefer peace, tolerance, and even respect towards another clan, and I believe they are in the majority. Others dislike a rival clan and have no desire to interact with its members, and some simply hate them… The origins of these feelings are understandable, they are being fueled by egotism, belief in one's own exclusivity, and the inability to procreate with the others. As it says in the Book of the Beginning and the End, a person's progeny is his shadow stretching into the future… Fruitless attempts at casting that shadow result in anger and can occasionally push one towards murder. Especially if there is cause for it."

"And is there one?"

"Possibly. I don't know if the paths of Depth and Zend Una have crossed on Tizana, but here, aboard the station, they are rivals in the struggle for leadership. For my people that's an important reason! Besides, Eyes of the Horada are generally not liked by the worthy ones or even the servants. Zend Una threatened us with his palustar… It was a mistake! Enough to activate the self-preservation instinct and hatred."

"Zend Una is dead. But the new leader is Naya Acra, not Second Depth."

The geneticist shook his head.

"The argument isn't over yet, Ivar Trevelyan, not at all! And that is the most important thing I have to tell you. Be careful!" He rose. "And now we should go, they're waiting for us at the Central. You will send your message, we will send ours, and a ship will arrive in a day. Maybe even two ships: yours and ours… Do you think the humans will send a warship again?"

"An entire squadron if necessary," Trevelyan replied. "Ships fly quickly through Limbo."

Trevelyan, six worthy ones, and two on-duty technicians were lost in the round spacious chamber of the Central. The high dome of the ceiling and a large portion of the wall were enormous screens; Saikat's sun shone from above, stars glinted, and the curved fang of a nebula was reaching for the zenith; lights were blinking below, images of some nodes, machines, and station sections kept appearing and disappearing, neural circuits floated by, and a holographic map of the galaxy was floating over long-range communication panel. The on-duty technicians, Shiar and Evect, did not come close to that panel, as controlling the antenna did not require their participation; this, as well as sending data packets into Limbo, receiving and decoding messages, translating them from the Kni'lina language into Earth Lingua and back, was handled by the AI.

Interstellar communication at such gigantic distances was not a simple task, which was why it was only done in emergencies. Directing the antenna and, therefore, the communication beam required complex navigational calculations and the knowledge of the precise coordinates of the destination point and the Saikat system, as well as accounting for the planet's orbital revolution and the movement of the station above it. If the beam was off by even a millionth of a degree, then the information vanished into nothingness, passing the receiving antennae by a light year, or maybe even ten light years or a hundred parsecs, depending on the distance between the transmitter and the receiver. At times, the distances were so great that the term "interstellar" no longer applied; it would be more proper to call them "galactic" then.

While the Brain was busy and the six nyuri were sitting at the center of the chamber in gloomy silence, Trevelyan walked up to the terminal, typed up a message, and entered it into the Brain's memory. Naya Acra was watching his manipulations, periodically throwing suspicious glances in his direction; as soon as his brief report was finished, the translated text appeared in front of her. The phrases were hanging in mid-air, as if the fiery writing in the palace of the biblical Balthazar, and all the Kni'lina were able to read them. They didn't seem to find anything criminal in the text; the priestess made a permissive gesture, Third Pilot muttered something approving, while Depth, whom Ivar continued to "not see", nodded dryly.

From the other terminal, located farther away from the gloomy nyuri, Shiar was monitoring the work of Zotahi, the third life support technician. Zotahi, along with a pair of repair cybers, was at this moment on the lower tier by the air regenerator, installing new filters or checking something, consulting with Shiar and touching first the air duct, then air intake register with a probe. Hatches opened one after another in the massive housing of the machinery, flaps slid, revealing a mesh of pipes and cables, power conduits and the glowing cells of molecular circuits. The cybers were busy doing something at Zotahi's feet; they, like the movement of the lids and the flaps were likely being controlled by the Brain.

The calculations were done. The screens to the left and right of the long-range communication panel were showing the rotating antenna, a five-meter tubular structure that looked like an ancient rocket launcher. Now the pair of rods crowning it was aimed at the tip of the Tusk Nebula, where Yezdan and its moons were floating through space in the Kni'lina sector. Their homeworld, where the Poharas Emperor and the Ni leaders lived…

"At full readiness!" A loud voice echoed through the chamber.

"You can send," Naya Acra said. "Send me the confirmation."

In theory, communicating through Limbo, just like flying through it in ships, was done in an instant. In practice, both took some time due to the fluctuations in the quantum foam that filled the inverse of Creation. It took between thirty and forty minutes to cross the hundred parsecs separating them from Yezdan, and again that long to wait for the signal from the receiver orbiting the homeworld, confirming the receipt of the message.

Light flashed in the antenna's slits. It kept growing brighter, filled with melted gold, glowed and burned, forcing the people to squint and blink. Then a blinding golden arrow took off from the central rods and vanished in the abyss of the Great Emptiness.

"The first message has been sent," the AI reported.

"Send the second one," the priestess grated. "Send the confirmation to me and the human."

The antenna turned smoothly. Now its axis was aimed away from the nebula, at an angle of eighty-seven degrees from its previous direction. Somewhere over there, endlessly far away, beyond billions upon billions of cold empty space, Earth circled the golden Sol, and along with it circled Mars, Mercury, and Venus, satellites of the gas giants, and Pluto, the farthest from the luminary. Almost all these celestial bodies were inhabited, and almost all of them were accompanied by plumes orbital stations, ethereal cities, shipyards, and space citadels. From there, passenger liners departed for other worlds, trade ships gathered into enormous caravans, and Star Fleet kept its never-ending watch. The Solar System, the bastion of the great might and power of the Earth Federation…

Trevelyan threw a sideways glance at Shiar. Standing sideways toward the terminal, he continued to talk to Zotahi about something. The third technician, clearly visible on the screen, was floating a meter above the floor next to an open hatch, watching the small robots work in the regenerator. Their manipulators were moving faster than the legs of a running spider.

Another bright bolt of lightning flew off from the twin rods of the antenna.

"The second message has been sent," the cryogenic Brain said.

That was it, Ivar thought. Soon human and Kni'lina ships would arrive, hundreds of new people would appear, with high-ranking members of the Foundation and the Horada among them, with all the necessary passwords and an entire staff of investigators. Iutin shouldn't have worried; while the argument might not be over, dealing with the murders, the arguments, the feuds, and Second Depth's mysterious work would be done by professionals. Individuals with the necessary authority, whom the Brain wouldn't be able to refuse supplying information.

The Kni'lina filed out of the chamber. Naya Acra, Second Depth, Third Pilot, Fourth Evening, Ifta Kee, Iutin… The Ni's names were probably different now, Ivar thought: she was now First Depth, followed by Second Pilot and Third Evening. Not that the number was that important, not to Trevelyan at least; having observed the Ni closer, both the living and the dead, he had an idea about the true meaning behind their designations. Blade: cruel, power-hungry, merciless, like a steel sword aimed at the enemy's heart. Course: following a predestined path, a meandering road, from which he couldn't deviate. Depth: mysterious, unpredictable, insidious, and clearly dangerous, like a chasm that had just opened up below. Pilot: prudent, sensible, and quick, like an astronaut flying a starship. Evening: terse and gloomy, like a departing day, but probably reliable.

Shiar produced a sudden yell. A quick shadow dashed across the screen and Zotahi's silhouette, there was a flash, a grating sound, following by the clanging of metal, the loud sound of hatches and flaps sliding closed, and the high-pitched whistle of escaping air. These sounds could be heard for a fraction of a second; then the whistling, the clanging, and the grating stopped, and silence fell in the regenerator section. Everyone froze in the control center: Trevelyan at his terminal, Shiar staring at the screen, Evect facing him, Naya Acra already standing at the exit, and the five nyuri stretching single-file across the chamber.

"The individual being searched has been located," the Brain said in a measured voice. "The one you call Course has dealt some damage to the air regenerator. The damage is negligible, nyuri, so there is no cause for concern. At the moment, all the access hatches in the regenerator housing are closed, so the device is inaccessible."

"What did he do?" the priestess cawed dully. "What damage?"

"He crushed the unit regulating the pressure in duct 17. The duct has been shut off and a backup line has been engaged."

"Praise Yezdan!" Naya Acra said and stepped over the threshold.

Only then Shiar dared to call, "Zotahi! Where are you, Zotahi? Are you all right?"

Silence was his only answer.

"Station, tell us what happened to the technician," Trevelyan commanded. "Is he alive? Is he hurt?"

"Unfortunately, he is dead," came a voice holding neither regret nor sorrow. Then the image on the screen jerked, pulled back, and Trevelyan saw Zotahi crumpled at the regenerator's housing. It looked like his neck had been broken and his head smashed in.