The Leaves of October Part 19

The throne chamber is thrice the height of a mature Hlut and the length and breadth of a small forest, and I stand alone in its empty immensity. Yet I am not alone, for the song of the Hlutr always surrounds me. And, occasionally, there is the laughter of my Little Ones.

They will have their future, and make of it what they will. For now, I and the Elders are content. Their laughter is enough.

Whatever tomorrow may bring.

INTERLUDE 7.

Kev and Dar insisted that the ceremony be held on Amny, and the others didn't object. It was a beautiful world, and close enough to Credix that it was convenient for everyone.

Robots had been at work for a tenday, making a clearing in the forest into a chapel. As the sun rose on the last morning, its warm golden light opened ten thousand brilliant blossoms and soft music echoed through the glen. Kev looked over the site with approval, then shook hands with Dar. "Looks great, kid. I can't believe the day is actually here."

"It's here."

Elyene smiled, her eyes reflecting all the colors of the flowers. "It's been long enough coming. I think you three still don't realize that Miai and I have been courting you for more than three whole years."

Tim, perched on a fallen log with a terminal unrolled next to him, laughed. "Give us some credit too. Remember, Dar is the one who first popped the question."

"After Miai spent a whole night convincing him."

"I hope she doesn't mind staying at home," Kev said. After all, someone had to keep Mama Tiponya calm...and Miai was the calmest person he knew. She had to be, to balance Tim's manic moods and his own enthusiastic days-long work sessions.

Elyene stretched. "I think I'll get back to help her. Kev, Dar, it's great of your folks to let us stay here. My parents love me and everything, but they've made it obvious that they really don't want anybody else living in the settlement with them."

"Well, Amny's a nice central location...and there's plenty of room in the valley." Kev chuckled. "Of course, I doubt we'll be home often. It was hard enough to get us all together today for the wedding."

Tim shut down his terminal and hopped off the log. "I'll go back with you, Elyene. I have to call my fathers and make sure they're on the way."

"And I ought to check in with my folks," Dar said. "Are you coming, Kev?"

"I'll be along in a while."

"Okay. See you."

When the others were gone, Kev took a seat on Tim's log and surveyed the clearing. Everything was right, better than he had expected: some robots were setting out floating tables of food and drink, others had built up a platform where Dar's Galactic Rider friends would sing. And above lesser trees rose the multicolored leaves of Kev's treehouse tree.

He closed his eyes, listening. There was soft, ancient Human music...and under it, a song yet softer and more ancient. On this happiest day of Kev's life, the forest and the Hlutr were singing joy for him.

He sighed. It had been a long time- nearly twenty standard years- since he first heard the music of the Hlutr; still it had the power to return him to those careless days of eternal summer.

Dream, Little One.

PART EIGHT: Explorers.

The glorious Song of the Hlutr is but a faraway murmur, all but lost in the empty vastness that surrounds us. The Human-built artificial sun pains my sister, and it hurts my leaves as well. And there is no sapient life here, no higher order than simple mosses and blind worms. That, my friends, is the worst thing to bear- for the Universal Song is life, and without life there is only sterile silence.

My sister reminds me: (We agreed to come.) And so we did. Thus were we torn from the sweet soil of Kell, thus do we stand in the lofty mid-decks of Virgo Mariner, a vessel whose name will be legend for all time.

Thus are we come a million times seventy lightyears, to a dead galaxy once home to a splendid and cultured race. Thus are we here, to feel a civilization's ruin.

It is the fault of Little Ones, that we are here. Of the Council of Free Peoples of the Scattered Worlds, who approved and encouraged the partic.i.p.ation of half-seventy Free Folk in this journey- including we two Hlutr.

The fault of Humans and Metrinaire, who built this vessel as large as a city and sent her out into gulfs no one has crossed for thrice-seventy million Human years.

The fault of one Human: our Captain, the young historian Mal Arin, whose scholars.h.i.+p, curiosity and intellect have brought him fame throughout the Scattered Worlds, though his Human years number just half seventy.

What some of the Elders whisper is true: there is no end to Human arrogance.

(Arrogance indeed. Yet a strange arrogance, which brings along the greatest scholars of the Empire and the Scattered Worlds. A rare arrogance, and one for which we should be grateful.) How so, Sister?

(Since long before you or I broke soil, the Elders and the Free Peoples have wondered of the fate of the Virgo Culture. Once they filled a whole cl.u.s.ter of galaxies; their civilization was older by far than our own. Once the Hlutr could harmonize with a distant echo of the lifesong of these folk; yet for twenty million years and more they have been but a memory in the Scattered Worlds. Only the Humans, only our arrogant Captain, found the courage to pursue that mystery.) Of us two, I am a bit older...but my sister is accorded wiser by the Elders, and so I listen to her. For now.

We grew together on lush Kell, she and I, until our trunks touched and merged, and our substance became united. These millennia of our little lives, we have spoken to one another not through the First or Second Language, nor through the Inner Voice; our thoughts are joined like our bodies, and not even the wisest of the Wise can tell where one ends and the other begins.

Our Captain addresses his crew. Clever Human machines carry his voice and image throughout our great s.h.i.+p.

Mal Arin is tall for a Human, over two meters; his limbs are narrow, his fingers and toes delicate and gentle. In his mind is the song of ocean deeps: at surface his thoughts move from one topic to another as the wind, but under that surface are fathomless chasms wherein dwell strange and unexpected creatures. Mal Arin's inner song is among the strongest we have heard in Humans.

He speaks in Coruman, the ancient tongue of the Pylistroph which is the language of science and culture in the Scattered Worlds. The alert machines translate his words for those who do not understand the primogenial speech.

"My friends and loyal crew, we must confer. For eighteen days we have abided here, and probed this vast galactic cloud from rim to core; and yet we find no life. You all have seen the glorious ruins of the vanished race who once were masters here: the ghostly orbiting forts, forsaken cities and the lifeless dust of planets long forlorn. Our Aveth.e.l.lan telepaths have scanned, and find no trace of sapient life about. The Hlutr both concur. This galaxy is barren and its folk have long since fled. The Chief Astronomer will now report."

The Chief Astronomer, a Dorascan who has spent his life studying the galaxies of what Humans call the Virgo Cl.u.s.ter, appears next to Mal Arin. Behind him a holographic image looks out onto a violent sky.

We are thrice seventy kilopa.r.s.ecs from the great galaxy's core, just within the outermost regions of its halo. Here there are no clouds of gas and dust to hide stars and core, as in our own Galaxy: orange-red stars fall away into a blurred nebulosity that fills a seventh of the sky. The core itself bulks larger than Kell's setting sun in the sky of our homeworld, and glows with a cold bluewhite fury that is painful for my leaves to contemplate too long. From the core stretch twin, opposing jets of white-hot plasma, while the hidden heart of the galaxy screams with the anguish of dying suns.

It is as if we look into the crown of a great tree, one whose leaves glow with the colors of autumn- and the burning jets are like a bolt of lightning that pierces the tree's heart, killing it.

They tell us that half seventy galaxies the size of our own would fit within that great tree.

(Brother, we are far from home, and I am very small and lonely.) How must the Little Ones feel, then?

The Chief Astronomer's backfin twitches. "Before we left the Home Stars, I extensively surveyed this galaxy with the Empire's Quite Enormous Array as well as Nephestalan instruments. My team and I have seen nothing to change our conclusions: the core contains a collapsar with the ma.s.s of approximately five billion G-type stars. The plasma jets are the remains of stars torn apart by tidal forces."

"My friend, could you attempt to summarize?"

"Of course, Captain. From most of the Scattered Worlds, 21 million pa.r.s.ecs away, this galaxy is characteristically the third- or fourth-brightest X-ray source in the sky. Interstellar s.p.a.ce in this region blazes with X-rays and harder radiation; within dozens of pa.r.s.ecs of the plasma jet, the radiation level is well above the lethal threshold. It is the opinion of my whole team that no civilization could survive long in this environment." The astronomer bows, then his image fades.

"A million score of years have pa.s.sed and more, ere Scattered Worlds have heard from Virgo's race. Yet even then our legends do confirm that Virgan folk did flee this awful place, this isle of stars which gave their race its birth, yet which became nought but a site of death." Mal Arin gestures, and galaxies appear before him like stars in our own night sky.

"Within the Virgo Cl.u.s.ter we have mapped five thousand galaxies of every type. Our legends say the Virgans ruled them all. Their probes reached out beyond the Scattered Worlds; they trod on soil throughout our Local Group, and Aveth.e.l.lan exploration s.h.i.+ps found relics of the Virgans out as far as Pavo-Indus and the Cetus Clouds." He pauses, then sighs. "With twenty million years in which to move, and fifty hundred galaxies to choose- where might the Virgans hide? How can we know?"

The telepaths- two Aveth.e.l.lans, both quite mad- appear. Their talent is like the Hlutr Inner Voice, but only in the way that speech is like symphony. "Good Captain, we find traces of thought far away...yet not as far as the Home Stars. Alien, perplexing, but thought."

"Might these perplexing thoughts be Virgan folk?"

"They might be anything, Honored Captain. We must needs be closer to find out."

Mal Arin nods. "My faithful crew, you've heard all arguments. Ought we within this s.p.a.ce unhealthy bide, or should we follow telepathic tracks and seek the hidden home of Virgo's breed?"

There is no question; we have come so far already to find the Virgo Culture. Yet the Captain will have his vote, according to the custom of his people. When it is done and tabulated by the machines, no one is surprised that the crew wishes to continue.

"Telepaths and Chief Astronomer, Navigator and Drive Specialist, please gather in the starboard briefing hall. Secure for tachyon drive; we fly at once." A single smile, then Mal Arin's image vanishes.

(What do you think, Brother?) The Elders counselled us to accompany this expedition, both to lend our abilities and for another purpose: to observe Humans in this greatest of adventures. Now we are beyond the counsel of the Elders, and I do not know what to think, Sister.

(Do you still believe that Humans must be prodded along the road to racial maturity?) How can it be otherwise, Sister? I have watched Mankind since first his s.h.i.+ps touched fair Kell; I have lived through his First Empire, his tragic Interregnum, and the bright days of his Second Empire. I have watched him grow toward maturity his first hesitant steps, his retreats, his great leaps forward. But still he has a long way to go. The Hlutr must do for Man what we have done for other folk, and help him along his path.

(Look at this vessel, Brother. It is a s.h.i.+ning triumph of curiosity, of knowledge...and of wisdom. Man co-operates now not only with Metrinaire and Dolphin and Dog, but also with the teeming races of the Scattered Worlds, without thought of conquest or compet.i.tion. He would never have done that during the foolish days of his First Empire.) Man has changed, yes. Humanity has begun to control its own aggressiveness. Now we can accelerate that change, and bring Man to maturity in half seventy short generations.

(Change has begun, yes. The Second Empire has reached a stable population, war is a thing of the past, spiritual enlightenment has touched every Human world and settlement. When other races reached this stage, we Hlutr took over their genetic development and bred them into maturity. Brother, suppose we were wrong to do so?) You gainsay the will of the Elders?

(As you have observed, we are beyond the will of the Elders. Even in the Home Stars, the councils of the Hlutr are divided. Humans have begun to change, begun to mature- why not allow that change to proceed at its own rate, and to its own unique destination?) And delay Man's maturity for thrice seventy generations, or more?

(Brother, have we any lack of time? You are a dozen millennia old, I am younger- are you afraid we will perish before the goal arrives? Let it take thrice seventy times seventy generations, and we will still witness the adulthood of Humanity.) And those generations will suffer....

(Do Humans suffer now? You have sung with our Captain's Inner Voice...do you hear therein the chords of anguish and sadness?) One of the cabin boys, a genetically-advanced Collie pup, bounds onto the mid-decks and stands panting before us. "Great Ones, I bring greetings from the Captain. The telepaths report interference from the living minds aboard this s.h.i.+p. Mal Arin begs that you join your Inner Voice with the crew's minds and help us all observe some moments of mental harmony."

(You see, Brother? What did Humans know of mental har-mony, in the times when we first met them?) Some knew, Sister. Some have always known. Now as then, never enough....

Together, we sing the melodious, peaceful song of the Inner Voice. And one by one, each as far as his ability will carry him, the crew sing with us.

Legends of the Virgo Culture abound in the Scattered Worlds, most of them pleasant fancies with no basis in fact.

One tale we do credit is that of Lirith and Jel Haran. She was a singer, daughter of the Scattered Worlds; he was a great warrior from the Virgo Culture. Their love and their heroic deeds have inspired the folk of the Scattered Worlds for twenty million Human years.

We believe this tale because the Eldest, who was there, a.s.sures us of its veracity. Lirith spoke little and Jel Haran even less- but their words are all preserved on Nephestal and in the memory banks of our s.h.i.+p.

The pair returned to Jel Haran's native galaxy in the Virgo Cl.u.s.ter, and remained there for a long while. Tales give precious few details, but they agree that Jel Haran's homeworld was in a great ring of stars.

We have found that ring.

For ten Human days and across two and a half million pa.r.s.ecs, we have followed telepathic traces of sapience. Now we are come to an astonis.h.i.+ng object: a single galaxy that is not a spiral nor ellipse, nor even an irregular cloud. Instead, it is a bright ring of starlight surrounding a small, hot core. A few wispy plumes trail inward, the ghostly spokes of a celestial wheel.

Our telepaths are certain: the Virgans are there.

The Chief Astronomer is suddenly very popular; Mal Arin schedules him for a number of lectures here on the mid-decks where the whole crew can gather to listen.

"Ring galaxies are uncommon, but not unheard of. This was once a normal spiral," he says, waving his limbs around a holographic projection of the strange object. "Do you see the small irregular galaxy fifty kilopa.r.s.ecs to the south? Three hundred million years ago it collided dead-center with the Ring- the gravitational fields did the rest. In another hundred megayears the damage will be undone, and the Ring will have regained its spiral structure."

"I can't help but imagine, Doctor na-Pekah, that this sounds like a rather catastrophic event." This is Osteva Rul, a young Human woman who is the expedition's leading geneticist. My sister and I have tried talking shop with her, but our methods, our scope, and our vocabularies are so different that we cannot communicate.

"Catastrophic? Only to the galaxy as a whole. Remember that galaxies are mostly empty s.p.a.ce, even in their cores. To be sure, turbulence in gas and dust clouds gave birth to many new stars, so the Ring is brighter than a usual galaxy its age...but in time those stars spread out. I a.s.sure you, in a billion years the Ring will seem a perfectly ordinary spiral."

"Scant comfort," says one of the Iaranori, "Except to the Hlutr."

"Not even to us," my sister quips. "None on this vessel need worry about living another ten million centuries."

"So where are the Virgans?"

The astronomer briefly lowers his nict.i.tating membranes, the equivalent of a Human shrug. "The telepaths are at work on it. Certainly we find none of the traditional evidence of sapient life: no patterned neutrino emissions, no flashes of Cerenkov radiation, no large engineering projects "

"Unless you count the Ring itself."

Doctor na-Pekah projects a brief note of psychic unease, then shakes his head. "The possibility has been considered. Nonetheless, the telepaths offer our best hope of finding Virgans. When they succeed, you will know as soon as I."

And the Hlutr will know sooner.

Even now my sister and I sing in mental concert with the two Aveth.e.l.lan telepaths, the Kreen, and the few Humans who show any sensitivity to the Inner Voice.

Somewhere in this galaxy, there is life. Its song pervades s.p.a.ce, utterly unmistakeable, a slow symphony of deep wisdom and quiet joy. But where are they?

Mal Arin makes an announcement. "Galactic Riders, please prepare your s.h.i.+ps. The exploration teams shall each include a telepathic sensitive as well as empaths and a Hlutr operative. The Chief Astronomer will designate three members of his team to go along."

This is the sort of problem which animal races find irresistable: to locate something that is missing. We Hlutr would bide our time, learning more and finally communicating with the Virgans; but animals do not have our patience.

Virgo Mariner's crew includes three Galactic Riders: members of the age-old Scattered Worlds brotherhood who have dedicated themselves to serving the cause of universal harmony. Their star vessels, products of Nephestal's finest s.h.i.+pwrights, are the fastest, most manuverable, and most loyal available in our Galaxy.

Also aboard are a three brain-damaged Humans who have an extraordinary sensitivity to the Inner Voice; these creatures are intended to serve as hosts for Hlutr minds. My sister and I are practiced at animating operatives, and it is the work of but a moment to transfer a part of our awareness to each sleeping Human body.

The exploration s.h.i.+ps are launched, and for five Human days we weave among the stars of the Ring galaxy, searching for Virgo's lost race. Everywhere we find their ruins: great s.p.a.ce-cities, now dark and frozen; huge tracts of arable land planted with wild vegetation that shows the remnant of cultivated patterns; once-enviroformed moons leaking the last of their atmospheres into s.p.a.ce. In some areas there are indications of vast battles, shattering catastrophes and long-ago upheavals of land and water- other spots are completely undamaged, as if waiting for the return of their masters.

Everywhere we go, there is much to learn...yet we pa.s.s on, allowing computers to gather what information they can during brief fly-bys and even briefer landings. If we do not find the Virgans, we can come back to study the treasures they left behind; for now our task is to locate the living beings themselves.

It is the Human Galactic Rider, a man called Fadil Tormity, who finally finds the Virgan's hiding place...although he is aided by one of the Aveth.e.l.lan telepaths, Doctor na-Pekah, and an operative whom my sister controls. Even as the Captain gives the order to move Virgo Mariner into the planetary system, though, we wonder at what we have found.

The planet- which Tormity names "Metaneira"- is the second of its system, and is somewhat larger and more ma.s.sive than Terra-Prime or Kell. It orbits, however, a red dwarf star only five-seventieths as bright as Kell's fine sun and less than one-seventieth as ma.s.sive. Metaneira's...o...b..t is small, yet still the world takes over thirteen Human centuries to complete one swing around its sun.

Instruments, however, show that the planet is habitable; indeed, it is a bit warmer than Kell. And the chorus of happy thoughts that emanate from that cloud-wrapped globe cannot be ignored. If the Virgans still exist, they are below.

When Virgo Mariner and the other Galactic Riders arrive, there is some confusion; everyone wishes to be part of the first landing party. Finally the Captain decrees that the party will consist entirely of department heads, and that it will travel on Fadil Tormity's s.h.i.+p Mary Ellen Carter.

Twenty-three crewmembers- including the Captain and his current romantic companion, geneticist Osteva Rul- take their places in the s.h.i.+p. My sister and I, of course, share the senses of our operative. During descent to Metaneira, our seat-mate is a female Human biologist named Tila Zakodny; a woman of advanced age, whose scientific career has been like the steady s.h.i.+ne of a constant star. She has twice been awarded the Imperial Science Medal, and holds the Teresa Hoister Chair of Biology at Akademii de Savoire.

Tila Zakodny is also sensitive to the Inner Voice, and has great appreciation of Hlutr biology and sociology. Through both her gentle studies and her fair friends.h.i.+p, she has won the approval of the Elders. We sang with Zakodny on the voyage to Virgo, and we have grown fond of her.

Since her inner song is ripped with tension, I attempt to draw her into conversation. "What do you expect to find below, Madame Zakodny?"

"I frankly don't know. I wish the xenopologists had had more time to examine Virgan ruins. We don't even know what kind of beings to expect: animal, vegetable, mineral... or something completely beyond our experience." Her thoughts are calming. "Jel Haran is the only Virgan on record as having visited the Scattered Worlds- and as far as we can tell, he was mostly cyborg with only a little organic tissue left." She smiles, appreciating history's joke on herself and her colleagues. "I don't suppose their mental patterns tell you anything?"

"They are sapient, their metabolic rate is roughly equivalent to your own, and their mental song is...disciplined and strong. I cannot tell anything else about them."

"I imagine we'll know soon enough."