“We can’t,” Carter reminded her. “We don’t even know how this pirca barrier thing works.”

Da Rimini glared at him. “I thought you were pretty much an empty-head when I met you, an’ I haven’ seen nothing to make me change my mind.”

Carter smiled sweetly. “I love you too.”

“If you children can spare the time maybe we can think of somethin’ constructive to do,” Ashwood snapped.

“I already have,” Fewick announced. “To wit, sampling the native cuisine, which is hearty and flavorful if not particularly subtle.”

“How can you think about food?” Igor asked him.

“I am am somewhat kin to the stegosaurus, my bucolic Peruvian friend, in that I have two brains. The one in my head deals with such as you while the one in my belly joyfully occupies itself in the unending pursuit of gourmandish analysis. I see no reason to alter this division of labor so long as we are trapped here.” He gazed through the barrier.

“Meanwhile it might be well to contemplate the possibility that the manner of our hosts’ inquiry may be other than balsamic. The Incas were known to have done unpleasant things to reluctant prisoners. Making flutes out of their bones, for example. Do not be so hasty to envy our absent associates.”

The elected nobles and scientific representatives who had gathered in the conference chamber were arguing heatedly among themselves while the bemused Fernández brothers sat off to one side, trying to follow as much of the babble as they could. The translators they had been given were not perfect and these descendants of their forefathers utilized terms neither man understood.

One did not have to be a linguist, however, to recognize rampant disagreement.

One older noble rose, his remarkable iridescent gray tunic glistening like an Irish beach beneath the overhead lights.

“I think this proposal is a waste of time and resources, and I will vote against it. In the centuries since we fled Earth we have raised here a greater civilization than ever our ancestors dreamed of, peaceful and prosperous.” He looked around the table.

“Let the past lie. If we embark upon this course some of you favor, who can guarantee that we will not open ourselves to reconquest by the viracochas? Our population is sophisticated and well defended but not that large.” He gestured in the direction of the Fernández brothers. “You have heard the testimony of these two. The Earth is overpopulated, bursting at its seams. We have much empty fertile, temperate land and other humans a hunger for empty places. Is it worth risking everything we have achieved to gain revenge for injustices perpetrated so long ago?”

“There is no risk.” The speaker who rose wore a red uniform. “Only we understand the operation of the transmitters. If these two tell the truth, we have now under our control the only viracochas who are aware of its existence. We can attack in secret and if necessary retreat by the same means. The danger is minimal. It will be less so once we have occupied and fortified the ancient base at Nazca.”

“Base?” blurted a startled Manco Fernández. “There’s nothing at Nazca but treasure and caves.”

The man in the red uniform turned to look at him. “Did you explore all the caverns, all the passage-ways?”

“Well, no. We found a lot of other tunnels leading off in different directions that we didn’t have the time to inspect.”

The man nodded. “Below the upper rooms are the vast caverns utilized by our ancestors. Or did you think that we moved tens of thousands of people through the single small transmitter by which you arrived? There is at Nazca another transmitter constructed by Those-Who-Came-Before, one much bigger than that which transported you here. We believe it was built to move large cargoes. We made good use of it before it too stopped working. If it is also functioning again we will make better use of it still.” He regarded his colleagues.

“Once the ancient Nazca base is secured our assault force will be impregnable. Then we can dictate whatever terms of revenge we desire.”

“Just one thing,” said Manco. “Those people who accompanied us? The viracochas? I wouldn’t trust anything they say. You know how viracochas are.”

Another noble eyed him suspiciously. “You were the ones holding the guns.”

“Someone had to take charge. It’s a long story.” Manco hurried on. “My brother and I have made it our life’s work to try and restore something of our Inca heritage. It has been a long time since any of your people were on Earth. You are going to need guides, advice, assistance.”

“You were brought here,” the noble said sternly, “to answer questions. Not to offer unsolicited help.”

“Of course,” agreed Manco hastily, backing off. “I didn’t mean to offend. Did we, Blanco?” His brother shook his head violently. “I was just thinking that if you go ahead with these plans, well, my brother and I are Inca, and you’re Inca, and maybe we could help one another achieve our respective desires. I was wondering about one thing, though. Where is the emperor?”

The nobles relaxed and a few smiled tolerantly. “We have not been governed by an emperor for more than a hundred years,” the first speaker informed them. “Emperors lost us our empire, our land, and our freedom. When we came here and listened to the advice of the learning machines, we did away with such anachronisms.” He gestured around the table. “This is the government of Contisuyu, contentious as it may appear. You see that we have not only progressed in matters scientific.”

“You really think you can impose your will and take revenge on the descendants of your conquerors?” the soft-drink bottler inquired.

The red-clad noble whom Manco had come to think of as a military officer replied. “Among the devices and designs left to us by Those-Who-Came-Before are many which, while not intended to be used as weapons, can certainly be adapted for use as such. We do not know how far military science has advanced on Earth in our absence, but I believe we can construct weaponry which the descendants of our conquerors cannot defend against. Our attack will be many-faceted and well conceived.”

“That’s very interesting,” Manco agreed. “What are you thinking of doing? Taking back control of the lands our ancestors lost to the Spaniards? Restoring the empire?”

“That might be an eventual aim,” one of the nobles agreed.

“But the Spanish don’t run any part of South America anymore,” said Blanco Fernández.

“Nothing at all?” The military noble frowned. “Another of your party said as much.”

“He was telling the truth. It’s all independent.”

“How many countries?”

Manco responded when his brother hesitated. “Thirteen. They’ve fought against each other ever since the Spanish left, and they’d be a lot better off if a greater power forcibly unified them.” Eager opportunism lent strength to his suggestion. “Someone like you people, for example.

“They all still share the common Spanish heritage … except for the Brazilians, of course.”

“Ah yes,” murmured another noble. “That ridiculous Treaty of Tordesillas. It would be appropriate for us to put that to right.”

“What then of those who destroyed our lands and enslaved our ancestors?” asked the man in red.

“Spain is still a strong European country,” Manco informed them.

“It does not matter.” The noble looked satisfied. “We will crush them.” He narrowed his gaze. “Do not think to enhance your own position with lies. We still do not trust any of you.”

Manco was not intimidated. He knew how to handle himself in such confrontations. After all, business was business. “Trust comes with confirmation, and with time.”

Murmurs of approval came from several of the assembled.

“We’ll help you all we can,” Manco added. “If you decide to unify South America and you need somebody local to help you run things, my brother and I would reluctantly sacrifice our own careers to assist in that difficult task.” Blanco nodded eagerly.

“In fact, we have some plans of our own which might dovetail exactly with what you have in mind. We’d planned to expand our own interests eventually, of course, but with your help we could do so a lot sooner.”

“You have not been brought here to discuss your plans.” Manco immediately subsided.

The military noble regarded his colleagues. “It is our destiny. Our ancestral dead cry out for vengeance. First we will subjugate the Spain of our conquerors, then return just rule to the lands of our ancestors.”

“It may not be as easy as you think,” Manco said hesitantly. “Political allegiances have changed a lot in the two hundred years since you’ve been away. Spain is allied with the rest of Europe in an organization called the European Economic Community. It includes the French, the English, all the rest.”

“But not these Americans and the Russians?”

“No, not really, but—”

The noble cut him off. “Then we will conquer Europe. If these other lands are foolish enough to ally themselves with the hated Spanish, they too will suffer.”

“Hold on a moment,” said an anxious Manco. Things were getting out of hand. “Unifying South America is one thing, conquering Europe another. Taking control of Germany is a tougher proposition than imposing your will on Paraguay.”