The Leaves of October Part 25

"The folk of Marpethtal are in the same boat, my friend."

"While this is fascinating, Doctor, it doesn't begin to explain- "

"Of course it does. Do you suppose that the Hlutr don't have their own little symbionts, hiding within their cells where the think we can never find them?"

I can stay quiet no longer. "You have said enough, Doctor Imhotep."

"Not nearly." He bows to the Free Peoples. "I a.s.sume you will want to fully understand this matter, before reaching a decision?"

Sinlath Trnas speaks for the three of them. "Continue, Doctor."

"Haven't you ever wondered about the Hlutr Inner Voice? You, honored daughter of Aveth.e.l.l: your folk have produced the most skilled telepaths of the Scattered Worlds, yet they do not comprehend the Inner Voice. Some individuals hear it, others do not; and nothing we can do seems to change that."

"And you think that some symbiont in Hlutr cells is responsible?"

"My father isolated the symbiont two decades ago. It is the sole source of the Hlutr Inner Song. Mutated versions of the organism live in the cells of some of us...but in vastly differing populations. Thus some hear the Inner Voice better than others."

"So what you've done is to inject these symbionts into the cells of your test animals? You've made creatures that can sing the Inner Voice as well as the Hlutr?"

He dismisses Bandaranaike's guess with a wave of his hand. "Of course not. Unaltered, the symbiont will not survive outside Hlutr cells."

"No," I say. "What you have done is far more of a travesty."

"I've only done what the Hlutr could have done three billion years ago, if they'd wanted." He sighs. "Every form of life can evolve- but these cellular symbionts, perfectly adapted for what to them is an unchanging, beneficent environment, there is little evolutionary pressure. My father and I have simply removed them from their native environment and bred them into independent lifeforms again."

Bandaranaike shakes her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand. These monkey-things that you've made, they're grown from Hlutr cellular symbionts?"

"Not quite. My father took the symbionts to the stage of free-living organisms- something like algae or molds. After he...after he died, I merged the symbionts' genetic material with Human DNA. The result is a hybrid: what you call 'these monkey-things.' But I a.s.sure you, their biochemistry is vastly different from yours or mine." He shrugs. "In effect, I've created a new form of life. One that has full ability to use the Inner Voice."

"And this is the source of the strange music we Hlutr have been hearing lately."

"All right, Elder, I've kept you waiting long enough. Why do the Hlutr oppose Doctor Imhotep's research?"

"It is an abomination. Animals braying in the Inner Voice- already his creatures disturb the flow of Hlutr song throughout the Scattered Worlds. When there are more of them, their noise will drown out our song entirely."

"I'm sure that ways can be found to insulate- "

"Regardless, it is abomination. What Imhotep has done is the ultimate invasion of our being. What if the Hlutr reached within you and pulled out these mitochondria, made them into independent creatures? Even into your compet.i.tors?"

"Ah," says Imhotep, "Here's the real issue, isn't it? The Hlutr don't want any compet.i.tion. That's why they've always discouraged advances in genetics. I wouldn't be surprised to find that part of the Hlutr song is an attempt to inhibit the study of genetics by other races."

"Imhotep, you know not what you embark upon. Will you control your own creation? Have you the power to deal with their l.u.s.ts, their aggression, their murderous hates and their uncontrolled pain? Given the force of the Inner Voice, these things will destroy you...and in time, can destroy the whole of the Scattered Worlds."

The song of the Hlutr is strong around me. From the Secluded Realm to Nephestal, from Amny to Inse, from the plains of Aveth.e.l.l to the lonely mountains of Kree, my brothers and sisters sing with a unanimity seldom matched in our history.

Imhotep has gone too far.

Wait, sings a Voice I have heard only in dreams...the Voice of the Eldest of us all.

Imhotep smiles. "I think you'd all better come with me. I have something to show you. Bandaranaike, if you'll take your s.h.i.+p to the cargo port I will point out, there will be room for both the Marpethtalan and the Hlut to follow."

The s.h.i.+p moves, while my mind seethes. This is a matter for the Hlutr race alone; I should never have agreed to involve the Council of the Free Peoples. However, one must move carefully when dealing with animals, even of the most mature races; having asked their advice, I cannot ignore it until it is given.

Then...the will of the Hlutr will be done.

Imhotep has done something which is forbidden by the Hlutr, forbidden since long before we left fair Paka Tel: he has meddled with the tiny symbionts which give us the Inner Voice. Such meddling must be corrected.

We dock, and Bandaranaike opens the great cargo doors. We move slowly forward, and as we pa.s.s into the Ring I feel the Hlutr song fade around me. There is interference such as only great distance or great turmoil can create. Another mutation of the symbiont? Imhotep piles abomination atop abomination, sin atop sin.

We enter a new world.

My brothers and sisters have told me of the worlds that Humans create in their s.p.a.ce settlements, but until now I did not believe it possible that a construct of metal and plastic could taste like a real planet. However, Imhotep has created such a world here, in a hollow only a few kilometers wide. There is soil, and water and air scented with the smell of life. There is gravity, light and warmth, and my roots itch to bury themselves in this rich ground, to experience this place and make it mine own.

There is song....

"Imhotep, what have you done?"

"Look around, d.a.m.n you. You see what I've done. You, of all creatures in this Galaxy...you should see what I've done."

We stand at the top of a small rise, and my height lifts me far above the landscape. In a valley below us there are structures, small huts woven from leaves and fronds. Among them sit the monkey-creatures, these travesties that Imhotep has created by an unnatural fusion of genetic material. Some monkey-things move, some cuddle small ones, some merely sit.

All of them...sing....

As if one discovers a beloved symphony suddenly played on unknown instruments, so I hear the music that I love, the music of the Hlutr, carried by twice-seventy new and unsuspected voices, sung in an unprecedented key. I cannot help but answer; and in answering, I am drawn immediately into their world, I am become one with them.

The experience of beauty is one that I have not faced for half a lifetime: even the lovely vistas of Nephestal and the brilliant stars of night have become overly familiar to me. Now I hear beauty, now I experience something that is a rare delight for my people. Now I make contact with sapient minds that are the equal of my own, the equal of my brothers and sisters.

"You see?" Imhotep says.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Do you want to tell her, Elder?"

I am ashamed, suddenly, of the things I have said to him, of the judgements I made before I knew reality. "You tell her, friend. Tell them all."

"I knew the Hlutr would be against it, so I had to keep up my screen during the early stages of my experiments. Some of the first trials escaped; I'm sure that's what you found."

Sinlath Trnas is far ahead of him. "I did not think Human genetics was this advanced."

"My father was a genius. And I have access to Phuctra's Ragnarok Eight Thousand computer- the biggest and fastest model that the Second Empire ever produced."

Frustration explodes in Bandaranaike's mind. "What have you done?"

At last Imhotep takes pity on her, and on the other two who also have not realized the truth. "The Elder was right, of course. No one could control the emotions of dumb animals, especially when amplified through the Inner Voice. The solution was simple to enunciate, but it took two decades of computer time to find."

"What?"

"I had to make the monkey-things into a fully mature, sapient species from the very beginning. I doubt that they're really successful in evolutionary terms- they don't have much ambition or aggression. But they have some interesting ideas about the meaning of life."

"Do not be so sure that these folk are unsuccessful, Saburo Imhotep. They may outlast us all."

He smiles, and in his own rudimentary Inner Voice I sense the satisfaction of a job done well. "Now if you don't mind, could you move outside the screens tell the rest of the Hlutr what you've found? I don't relish being under a death sentence."

"Let us take down your screen, Saburo Imhotep, and your creatures may tell the Hlutr themselves."

"It will take a while."

I spread my song outward, and it is answered by the monkey-things by a profound melody that is joy itself. I wish nothing more than to lose myself in communion with these new minds. There is so much to learn. But first, I remind myself, I must answer Imhotep.

"I can wait."

Music calls, and I surrender.

PART ELEVEN: Piper.

Once more Hlutr roots drink deep of Terran soil.

I am third. The first was the Traveler, chosen by the Elders to live his strange life in exile. The second was our amba.s.sador to New York, who spoke to the First Terran Empire and watched over the ruin of Earth.

I am third.

Since I broke soil a Terran century ago I have known what I am: the Elders bred me specially for life on this fair blue globe, and I would not feel at home on any other planet, not even lost Paka Tel.

It is time for Humans to come home.

Twice seventy centuries ago, Mankind lost his home world. It was in the time of the Long Winter, when my Little Ones almost left the Universal Song. Hlutr intervention saved them; but the path to Earth was lost, and none would rediscover it in all the millennia since.

At first it was easy. My brothers and sisters on surrounding worlds had only to put forth the barest effort, and approaching travelers turned away from golden Sol without knowing they did so.

Later Humans were more sophisticated, and it was necessary to establish an actual curtain around the planet. In the high days of the Second Empire even that curtain could not serve, and the telepaths of Aveth.e.l.l moved in. The Aakad da'Estra, too, aided us.

Twice seventy centuries and more, my brothers and sisters labored to keep Mankind's home safe and undisturbed.

Daamin biologists worked slowly, healing the scars of this battered world. That work took half a thousand Human generations. By the time Man reached his true maturity, his native world had been reclaimed.

Then Iaranori craftsmen and Kreen historians rebuilt the monuments and cities of vanished ages; Dorascan scientists brought modern technology to the planet without disturbing its ecological balance; and finally, the Hlutr sent my seed to be planted in the fertile soil of this beautiful valley.

At last, Humankind has matured; the children of Terra have left behind their empires and their wars, and have taken their place among the civilized races of the Scattered Worlds.

It is time for these children to come home.

And I must bring them here.

The Galactic Riders have been busy, restoring to Terra all the art treasures which have been held in trust in the Museum of Worlds on Nephestal. Yet there is sadness: for each wonderful creation saved from destruction, seventy are dust.

Still, we of the reclamation crew are happy with what remains. We have built a museum here in the valley, as much for the returning Humans as for ourselves. And I cannot help a small feeling of pride- even in their violent childhood, my adopted children created works of art that have delighted the Scattered Worlds. I understand that the Council had quite a struggle to get the Unicorn Tapestries and Lisa del Gioconda away from the Master of the Museum.

Everything is ready; it is time.

My brothers and sisters have been busy already, under my direction. For the last century we have sung a song of homecoming, and more often the thoughts of Humans have turned to lost Terra. Several major expeditions have set out to find the lost globe...but we have prevented them, until everything was right.

Until now.

Just over one million Humans live in the Scattered Worlds today. Many serve the Galaxy as Galactic Riders or in other capacities; more are independent souls on a thousand worlds and settlements throughout s.p.a.ce. Such a throng could never make the pilgrimage to Terra without leaders.h.i.+p, without someone to inspire them.

And the Hlutr, combing through those million minds, listening to the music of each, evaluating...we have found the Leader.

Now beneath the eternal stars, I sing out into the night. All Mankind will hear that song, but one soul will resonate with it, one soul will respond.

Seasons pa.s.s.

Around me the members of the reclamation team bid their farewells to Earth, and one by one they depart. Perhaps my Little Ones will choose to allow nonhuman visitors on their world, or perhaps like the Iaranori they will keep their world for themselves alone- either way, it will be their decision to make. Ours is the gift of Terra: afterwards, the gift is theirs alone.

I am alone, as sun and stars race past, and my song of homecoming echoes across kilopa.r.s.ecs. And across the Galaxy, an incredible migration swells.

They feel the power of the Leader's vision, and even folk who have sworn never to leave their homes find themselves moved by the Leader's words and the song in their hearts. Some will return at once to s.p.a.ce, some will abide here a while and then leave, others will stay forever- but all will walk on Terran soil before they die.

The Leader must show the way.

From Credix to Borshall, from Prein to Marcreni, they gather in starliners, in individual s.h.i.+ps, in family settlements...they gather around New Sardinia, where the a.s.sembly of Humanity awaits their will.

Take us home, says the ma.s.sed will of Mankind.

"I do not know the way," says the Leader.

Here is the first and most important of the tasks for which I was born. I sing, and the Leader's soul echoes that song. Come to me, Little One.

He comes. And the others, they cannot help but follow.

It is a glorious morning when they arrive. Ten thousand stars.h.i.+ps sing around Terra, a million wondering minds regard a single blue world...and they weep, in happiness for their long-delayed homecoming.

One s.h.i.+p breaks from the orbital formation, one vessel settles slowly toward me. Welcome, I sing, as it touches the gra.s.ses of this place called Oldavai.

For a moment it sits, inert, a silver seed alone beneath the sun. Then it opens, and the Leader emerges. There is both irony and celebration in his ancient words as the first Human foot in fourteen millennia touches Terran soil: "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for Mankind."

It is done. My children are home. I sing thanks to the Elders who made me, to the teachers who taught me, to the Universal Song which has blessed me. Then, singing a song of joy and welcome, I turn to the waiting Leader and speak in Human tongue.

"Welcome home, Kev Mathis."

The long story of Humankind has begun....