The Leaves of October Part 23

Even then, we did not care. We preserved what life we could, because that is the Hlutr way. But we did not concern ourselves deeply with the doings of the Little Ones. We had come all this distance to observe, to taste a different s.p.a.ce, to sing in endless emptiness. We did all these things, and more.

In the end, the Coruma had become a dull, savage race who bordered on sapience. Later, none of us were quite certain when the last of them died. By the time we noticed, the ruins of their city were crumbled and not even skeletons remained.

Many of my brothers and sisters at home, I know, would view my thoughts as heresy- but many would agree. I believe that the Hlutr have no business involving themselves in the trivial doings of a billion species of Little Ones. We have given them sapience...let them amuse and improve themselves. If they become irritants to us, they must be removed. Some few, like the Wise of the Daamin and the sagest of the Coruma, contribute to Hlutr life and can be conversed with in an intelligent fas.h.i.+on. Otherwise, they are not worthy of our attention.

Now, with death approaching, I wish we had some of those Little Ones about. The youngest of us have tried to evolve sapient creatures from the sea beasts and the root-gnawers; but there is not enough time.

Before they died, the Coruma solved the puzzle of the voids. Doing so, they uncovered new and greater mysteries.

The universe, they told us, is structured like a froth of bubbles: galaxies cl.u.s.ter in sheets surrounding vast empty voids. No one knew why, until our vessel made its journey. Now we know the reason, and it is a splendid and beautiful one that has captivated our attention through all the ages since. Now it spells our doom.

The Coruma called it len-anyaar, and we know it as the Web of s.p.a.ce. It is a strange and wonderful condition that dates to the very earliest times, and it carries within it the memory of Creation itself.

In the very beginning, the Universe was filled with energy- a blaze of something that was neither light nor heat but as far beyond them as the Hlutr are beyond the scrub- and all forces were one. Expanding s.p.a.ce could not stand the strain, and within a few seconds the very fabric of s.p.a.ce changed, like water freezing into ice. That ice was our current s.p.a.ce, filled with all the particles and waves that make up matter and energy, s.p.a.ce and time, gravity and life, even the song of the Hlutr itself.

In places, however, s.p.a.ce did not change. Imperfections remained, like flaws within a crystal. These are strings- some infinitely long, some loops as big as galaxies, all very different than the s.p.a.ce we know.

I do not begin to understand all the properties of strings: great ma.s.s, enormous tension, superconductivity, oscillations at near lightspeed. I know only what the Coruman scientists concluded: shorter strings evaporated early, producing great waves of energy only slightly less than those that sp.a.w.ned them. This energy swept the voids clean of matter- smashed together at the boundaries, hot gas and dust gathered around larger loops of string to form first quasars, then galaxies.

String still remains, endless loops of it in the great universal voids. And now, pitching in its wild gyrations, a section is approaching our peaceful world at just less than the speed of light.

None of us know for certain what it will do: the awful tides may tear our world apart, the energy may cook us where we stand, mayhap it will simply skim by and rip our world from its...o...b..t and we will freeze in the eternal dark. But we are certain that we shall not survive the pa.s.sage of the string.

We have called, half seventy of us, across the gulfs of s.p.a.ce- but there is no answer. An age ago we began, when first we noticed the approaching string; with each pa.s.sing turn of seasons we have sung more loudly still, and with each turn there is no one to hear. The Home Stars are too far, the Talebba can do nothing but carry dim rumors of our tragedy outward.

Still we sing, singly or together, for it is not in the nature of the Hlutr to face such catastrophe with equanimity.

Now we may have an answer.

The music of a single mind is very faint, very indistinct- it must be some species we have never encountered, far from home and alone. Still, we Hlutr bend our efforts toward making contact. As one, we sing with a focus and an intensity which we have seldom experienced before.

It hears.

The reply comes not in words, not in song, but in a strange combination of both: I don't know who you are, but I'm coming.

My fellow Hlutr are disturbed. What, they wonder, can a single ent.i.ty do to help us? Approaching string will be here in less than ten times seventy of this world's quick years; will there be time to divert it? How, they want to know, will a mere Little One be able to conceive of our danger, much less deliver us?

Why should it want to?

We shall see, I tell them, when it arrives.

Soon enough, it is here. A small vessel, perhaps only seventy times as ma.s.sive as an adult Hlut, suddenly appears above our world. Now that stardrive distortion is gone, the pilot's mental song is clear: Where can I set down?

I will sing, and you may follow my music. Here I am not only Elder, but Eldest; the other Hlutr recognize my right to deal with this visitor.

Right you are. Here I come.

Wind stirs, and the scream of its approach echoes long before the vessel is actually visible in my sky. It lands, and the pilot emerges.

It is an odd creature: obviously a distant cousin to the Coruma, but also quite different. Its limbs are stubby, its face like the nightmare of a Coruman child, and its inner music altogether bizarre. Is this what the Hlutr of the Scattered Worlds have been up to all these ages?

Still, we are fortunate in the chance that has brought us a creature from the Home Stars. It might have been any lifeform from this infinite universe.

It speaks in unintelligble grunts, but its inner song conveys meaning and I know that it has practiced communicating with Hlutr.

"My name is Daavyor Lenno. You've surprised me; I didn't expect to find a colony of Hlutr this far out." Concentration whirls in its mind, replaced almost at once by clarity. "I'll bet you're from the Masgath expedition."

I have not practiced speaking with Little Ones for seven ages and more; my ragged reply is in the Inner Voice. The Coruman who commanded our expedition was of the tribe of Masgath.

How did you know that?

"On Nephestal the Daamin have preserved all the records of the Pylistroph. When I decided to come out this way, they told me of Limat Masgath's voyage. But that was- G.o.ds above, over a billion and a half years ago. How did you survive?"

It is not seemly that a Hlut should find himself answering the demands of one of the lesser orders; but it has been long since I conversed with anyone other than my fellow Hlutr and the Talebba. I sing to this Daavyor Lenno, sing of our survival on this world, of the long ages that have pa.s.sed since we left the Home Stars.

He projects sympathy and wonder. "Four of the original crew still alive, and your descendants? And you've kept this planet habitable for all that time?"

Our task has not been easy, I agree.

"I'll say." He looks up to the dark sky. "You're a long way from anywhere, you know that? Something tremendous must have ripped this planetary system out of its galaxy a long time ago. You're zipping along at better than four percent of lightspeed." He laughs. "At this rate you'll be through the void in ten billion years."

We will not, Daavyor Lenno. Soon we will meet doom. I sing to him of the approaching string, of death that comes out of the midnight black.

"String? Really?" He peers into s.p.a.ce. "That's nasty stuff. You'd better get out of here."

Would that we could, friend. However, we have no vessels and no way to summon help. When first this creature answered our summons, I felt hope but now that has faded as the light of sunset fades. And your s.h.i.+p is too small to carry even one of us.

"Ah, there's more power in that s.h.i.+p than you suspect. She carries a million metric tons of antimatter, and her engines can move small asteroids." He laughs. "I need that power, to zip around out here."

Can you return home and get help from your folk?

His thoughts turn somber. "Now, that might not be as easy as you'd think. Oh, I'm sure they have the technology to move your planet, at least- we might not be as advanced as during the Second Empire, but we still have a few tricks up our sleeve. I'm just...er...not too sure that they want to see me again back in the Home Stars."

I do not understand.

"See, the Council of the Free Peoples is helping us reduce our population gradually, without too much upset in the economy. It's not easy to dismantle an Empire of thirty thousand planets, you know. Our ancestors did some pretty strange things. I think we've made great progress, too: we're down to about two trillion in a little less than a thousand years."

The Hlutr allowed your people to breed to such numbers? Madness! Under the Pylistroph, we did not allow animals to overpopulate so drastically.

"Yeah, well, there have been a few political changes since you left, I understand."

Yes, of course. What has this to do with your return to the Home Stars?

"I was just getting to that. See, there's a lot of opportunities in the Milky Way. A shrewd trader can turn a profit in a dozen different ways." His mental song is filled with rueful amus.e.m.e.nt. "I guess I carried a cargo or two that I shouldn't have. My big mistake was landing on BDA Tr#ska. I managed to...er...relieve a Tr#skan Knight Economic of his holdings, and then I didn't leave quickly enough."

I do not understand.

"It was an honest mistake. But the a.s.sembly of Knights didn't view it that way. The Council of Free Peoples of the Scattered Worlds agreed with them."

I do not understand what you are telling me.

"They...asked that I leave the Galaxy. They also...er...requested that I not return. Under pain of death."

You are a criminal.

"Not really. They found out that I've traded with the Gathered Worlds. Purely accidental, I a.s.sure you- I didn't know that the Core was behind my buyer. Besides, the weapons weren't that good." His Inner Voice s.h.i.+vers. "The Council wanted to execute me. If it hadn't been for the Hlutr, I'd be dead. Your cousins argued for leniency, and eventually they settled on exile."

So you cannot return to your folk.

"They let me keep my s.h.i.+p. And gave me all the information they had on extragalactic journeys." His thoughts become contemplative. "I've seen things that they can't even imagine. Galaxies bisected by rings of stars, habitable worlds sharing the same orbit, a giant planet whose clouds match the continents of Fulmeni Prime- and a million others. It hasn't been that bad, really."

His words are brave, but the song from his mind contradicts them. Loneliness runs deep, the loneliness of a social animal deprived of others of its race. Wonders he has seen, yes, but deep within Daavyor Lenno is tired of wonders, weary of wandering. Whatever his crime, the punishment is too extreme.

There is no chance that you could return to your home?

"No, I'm afraid not. Even if I did, they wouldn't listen to me." For a moment he is subdued, then his inner song brightens. "But what are we moping around for? You said there are less than 35 Hlutr on this planet? h.e.l.ls, my s.h.i.+p has enough power to take you all to safety."

But it is not large enough for even one Hlut.

He waves a limb. "No problem. I'll just zip to the outskirts of your system and bring back a small planetoid. My antigravs will tow it, and I have enough power to extend the tachyon field and defense screens to cover a couple of cubic kilometers. You might be a little crowded, but otherwise it'll be a comfy ride."

Depart our home? Leave this lovely world, this light in the void, never to return? Say farewell forever to the glorious balance of her ecology, the beauty of her sky?

"The alternative," Daavyor Lenno says, "is to die here. Do you want that?"

The answer is obvious, but I am loath to give music to it. Would there were another way.

"You'll see, it'll be over before you know."

Our song goes with you, Daavyor Lenno.

"Thanks. I'll need it." Daavyor Lenno's mind has acquired a strange opacity; we Hlutr are not skilled in technical matters, and I suppose his thoughts of tachyon fields and power generators are blocking his song. He takes a deep breath of the chill midnight air, then re-enters his s.h.i.+p. "You might get your fellow Hlutr ready to depart; digging them up is going to be something of a shock. I'm glad I have a full complement of robots."

Without another word, he is gone.

Together, all the Hlutr of this world watch his progress. He is so close, and his mind so strong, that we have no difficulty singing with him.

Daavyor has no trouble locating a suitable planetoid; many thousands of them accompany our sun, and a few have even collided with our world in the past. He reports that he has the planetoid in tow, and we expect him to turn back to our world- but his song departs, and after a moment there is the distortion of the stardrive.

Wait, Daavyor Lenno. What are you doing? You must return.

"Don't worry," comes his answer. "I'm just going to dash out and take a closer look at that loop of cosmic string. We won't have time later. It's only a quarter of a megapa.r.s.ec. I'll be back before you know it."

I turn my senses to the midnight sky. The string is distant, but I know its location it is like a sour note in the Universal Song, a minor discord that will keep growing over the time to come. I wish you well, Daavyor Lenno, in seeing this mysterious stuff from the beginning of time.

The night wears on, and our world turns its slow way through s.p.a.ce. Dawn is far away, as Daavyor Lenno counts time; now that I am living at his rate I am reluctant to slow my metabolism again. Let this one night pa.s.s slowly.

Sooner than I expect, I hear from Daavyor Lenno again. His mental song is terribly distorted, and I find that I must live more slowly just to grasp his meaning.

"I hope you'll get this. I've come out of tachyon phase on the far side of the length of string. Now I'm building up my velocity- I'm at 99.8% of lightspeed now, and I'm hoping to shave at least another tenth of a percent off that. When I'm going fast enough, I'll drop the planetoid and go back into tachyon phase."

Daavyor Lenno, what are you doing?

"You'll see. This string is weird stuff. I tried throwing some small rocks at it- they went right through, but tidal effects cut them in half. The string wasn't damaged at all."

There is no way to destroy it. String is the fossilized remnant of the Universe as it was in the first few seconds after Creation. You cannot break it, nor can you deflect it from its course.

"We'll see about that. Ninety-nine point nine five...my antigravs are starting to feel the strain. I'm just twenty light-minutes out from it. I'm going to release the planetoid now."

I do not know why you are doing this...but our thoughts are with you.

Now his song returns to normal. "Well, that was easy. The planetoid will hit in just over twenty minutes. Now you'll have to excuse me for a minute, I have to get rid of this vector and accelerate in the opposite direction."

In all the ages we Hlutr have abided here, I have found nothing as hard to comprehend as this strange creature. His presence is somehow refres.h.i.+ng.

It is not long before Daavyor Lenno calls. Once again, his song is distorted, far slower than its usual rate. "There, that's done."

You alter your metabolic rate, Daavyor Lenno. I did not know your species could do that.

"It's relativistic, not biological. Oh, never mind. I'm in the groove- I have my s.h.i.+p pointed toward the string at 99.9% lightspeed plus change. If my computer has done it's work, we'll hit at the same time the asteroid impacts."

What are you doing? If you destroy your s.h.i.+p, how will we leave this world?

Feigned amus.e.m.e.nt covers fear. "With any luck, that won't be necessary. I'm going to let loose my fuel reserves at the instant we hit. When that much antimatter and matter meet at these speeds, there's got to be some big explosion."

You will destroy yourself for nothing! String cannot be broken. So the Coruma scientists a.s.sured us, a billion and a half years ago.

"So maybe we've learned a thing or two since then."

Return and take us off this world.

"Don't give me that. You don't want to leave...none of you do. We'd never find you another planet this far away from everything. And after all this time in the Void, you'd never be happy in a galaxy. Well, maybe I can give you what you want."

You are a fool, Daavyor Lenno.

"So maybe I am. I'm a fool who's sick of being lonely. The Hlutr gave me my life, back home; at least this way maybe I can balance accounts."

You owe us nothing.

Astonishment fills his inner song. "We owe you everything. The Hlutr brought life to Earth, you created Humans. You've saved us again and again from destruction. You've guided us toward maturity. G.o.ds know, this is little enough payment." His song tenses. "Computer says impact is approaching. I just regret that the folks at home will never know- "

We cannot see the impact. Light is far too slow. But the waves of the Inner Voice are much faster, and they tell us all.

I do not know if this is what Daavyor Lenno expected, but it suffices. There is a burst of energy, as far beyond light and heat as the Hlutr are beyond the scrub.

What happens when that much energy is confined in such a small s.p.a.ce, I will leave to the physicists and engineers of Daavyor Lenno's folk. To those of us who watch, it is clear: For an instant, conditions duplicate the energy levels of Creation itself.

Just as ice can be melted and re-frozen, the fabric of s.p.a.ce itself can be returned to its primal state, then allowed to jump back to the reality we know.