Ammonite Stars (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #4-5 (64 page)

She looked at her husband thoughtfully. “I don’t know ... maybe 300 billion?”

“And how many planets?”

“I have no idea. I’d say at least one star in three has planets, many of them multiple systems. Say a minimum of 100 billion?”

“And how many have life?”

“Well, apart from the binary system, three that we know of. Except one of those has been swallowed up by the black hole. I think the visitor said that the Dessites had found around 100 planets with some sort of life on them, generally extremely basic.”

Arcan shimmered. “That would mean that only 1 in every 3 billion stars has managed to generate and sustain life of any kind. So, almost all that you can see in the night sky is dead, inanimate.”

Grace found herself shivering. “I suppose it is. Is that all you see, Arcan? Dead planets circling around old fires?”

“Of course. They remind me that I am the only one of my species. What do you see?”

Ledin twisted his head to stare up at the myriads of stars twinkling above them. “I see something bigger than me. Something immense, that I want to understand more, something that makes me feel insignificant.”

“Of course, you would feel like that; I think I begin to understand,” Arcan told him. “—Your existence is so ephemeral that you must be overwhelmed by things like stars. I suppose if we put everything in the perspective of your life expectancy, the rest is too enormous for you to even contemplate.” The orthogel entity shadowed over. “It must be very hard to live for so little time.”

Then Arcan went a silvery colour, and there was a moment’s pause. “But all is relative, and even my own life will last only a second in comparison to a star’s.” He seemed taken aback. “I must think about that. We have more in common than I had realized.”

Grace looked interested. “What do you see, Arcan?”

“I see cold wastelands and deep voids. I see emptiness and loneliness. I see lifeless rocks tumbling forever about implacable furnaces. I see barrenness, and desolation.”

“Very pleasant. But even you must admit that the night sky as seen from here is absolutely stunning.”

“It is, to me, the most beautiful sight, but at the same time it is chilling.”

Grace frowned. “You sound ... different ... almost depressed, Arcan.”

The orthogel entity flashed. “Since I discovered that I am merely an improbable mutation, my view of things has changed, I must admit.”

“But you are still the most powerful being in the galaxy.”

“I am destined to disappear. Oh, my cells will regenerate for many thousands of years yet, but eventually, I will die. There is no other being with whom I can reproduce.”

“No-o-o. I see that would make you feel isolated.” Grace’s hands unconsciously smoothed the front of her tunic. “But you still have all that time in front of you. We transients have only a few score years.”

“What if those thousands of years are sterile? Regeneration is sterile; it only degrades, it cannot evolve.”

Grace felt almost overcome by the sheer scale of this immense feeling of gloom. She blew out a long sigh, and looked aghast. “I ... I don’t know what to say. I would like to help you, but I don’t know what would give you hope.”

Arcan shimmered sadly. “You are right. I have felt unfulfilled ever since I realized that I am nothing more that the unlikely product of an endothermic reaction. I am bound to stagnate, like the Ammonites, like the Sellites, like the Kwaidian Elders, like everything that cannot evolve. All these races have become poorer in spirit, unable to adapt, hidebound and destined to disappear sooner or later.” The shape in front of them became tinged with darkness.

It was Ledin who thought of something.

“Yes, but you
can
evolve, Arcan!”

“How?” The voice of the orthogel entity reverberated rather emptily around in their heads.

“The trimorphs, of course!”

There was a long pause, and then Grace’s eyes sparkled. “He is right! The trimorphs are, in a way, the evolution of both you and the lost animas of Xiantha. Don’t you see?”

There was an even longer silence. When Arcan finally spoke there was a tinge of light in his colour. “You could have a valid point.” He sounded surprised. “I need to consider that argument. But you may be right, Ledin. I suppose it is evolution, of a sort.” Arcan flashed. “I have brought the others over while we have been talking. Perhaps you would like to get back now?”

Ledin nodded. “Reproduction is merely a continuance. You have said yourself that our physical bodies are inefficient, and faulty. Evolution takes us many thousands of years. But, by combining species like you do in the trimorphs, evolution is bound to be far quicker.” He scrambled to his feet, then reached down to pull Grace up too.

They looked for one last time at the panoramic view of the night sky in front of them, breathing in deeply. Grace was amazed to realize that the way she looked at the stars had been changed by the conversation they had just had. Infinity somehow seemed bigger, and colder, than it had before. She gave a shiver and felt sorry for Arcan. She grabbed hold of Ledin’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He smiled down at her, and seemed to know what she was thinking, because he gave a small nod. It was a pity that Arcan would never feel the sort of bond they shared.

Then, as they watched, the stars melted away, and they found themselves back again inside the Kwaide Orbital Space Station, face to face with the rest of their friends.

SIX TURNED OFF the video and looked over to Grace and Ledin. They were sitting staring at the screen on the bridge of the New Independence, still moored to the Kwaidian Orbital Space Station. They looked absolutely stunned by the recording of the black hole.

“That was incredible,” gasped Grace. “You are so lucky to have been there!”

“Maybe.” Six didn’t sound convinced. “But there isn’t anything in this galaxy which would tempt me back.”

“Nor me.” Arcan pulsated. “That black hole was very nearly the end of me.”

“And us!” The trimorph twins began to spin, remembering their useless struggles to free themselves from the dying planet. Their agitation transferred itself to the visitor, who darkened in sympathy, and also began to spin.

“Why do we have to find these lost animas of Kintara?” asked one of the twins. “They have already nearly killed most of us.”

“We can’t leave them there to rot for all eternity, trapped in ortholiquid.” Grace sounded horrified.

“Well, why not?” The visitor was in full agreement with the trimorphs. “They seemed quite happy to risk our lives, why should we be worried about theirs? I’m a Dessite, remember, at heart.”

Six muttered something, and the bimorph turned on him instantly. “What was that?”

“I said, you haven’t got a heart. You are only a few bits of brain.
If
you can call it that.”

“I have very superior neurons!”

“Only because you can fly, tin can!”

“Take that back! There is no way you can call me a tin can, not now!”

“Can too!”

“Can’t!”

Six and the bimorph circled each other warily. The other occupants of the bridge waited impatiently for them to stop posturing.

“
If
you don’t mind ...” said Diva.

“I do.” The visitor scintillated. “And I think you are all being stupid. Why bother about a race which probably won’t even thank you for it?”

Tallen looked struck. “He
has
got a point, you know. Whatever else they may be, the Ammonites don’t seem particularly interested in other civilizations, do they?”

Bennel tried to tell the Namuri with a stern look that he would be better off keeping quiet and letting his elders and betters speak, but Tallen simply ignored him. Where he came from, all members of the clan were allowed to speak their minds. He wasn’t about to stop now, especially not just because a Coriolan sycophant ordered him to.

Six gave a small nod. “True, but we did give them our word, and it seems particularly unfair on the frozen animas. After all, they can know nothing about us; they have been frozen in time for thousands of years and the Ammonite animas who manipulated us back on Kintara are all dead now, along with their planet. The frozen animas may be completely different.”

Grace and Diva nodded, but Ledin seemed hesitant. “I just hope we don’t regret this,” he said. “It is a bit like altering the course of Nomus; we know where it starts off, but we have no idea where it will end up.”

A shadow seemed to pass all the way through Arcan. “I am tempted to leave them as stopped light forever,” he admitted. “We only escaped from the frame drag vortex because the canths helped us. The Ammonite animas knew that there was only the slightest chance anybody would survive when they decided to sequester the trimorphs.”

The visitor gave Six a flash of triumph. Six looked away.

Arcan wasn’t finished. “—But I have spoken to the canths about it, and we both think that we have a duty to recuperate what are probably our only living relatives. We wouldn’t be comfortable in leaving them where they are.”

“Good enough for me.” Six stood up, not without giving a victorious glance at the bimorph, who coloured.

“Then we should do something about it.” Ledin stood up too. “So, where do we have to go?”

The visitor shimmered. “Well, we examined the markings on the map the Ammonites gave you, and have managed to locate all of the remaining four planets. Unfortunately, the final planet of the four has suffered some sort of cataclysmic event. We transported close to its position, inside the Aurica constellation, but it seems that the entire system was irradiated by a collimated gamma ray burst thousands of years ago.”

“That can’t have been good for the indigenous wildlife,” said Six.

“We actually transported to an orbit above the planet. It was still there, but there will be no life on it for at least another billion years. The radiation must have been on a tight beam which was directly focused through the planet’s location, because the residual levels were so uncomfortable that we could only hover for a couple of seconds above the surface – and that was at a reasonably safe distance, and aeons after the original event! Whatever caused that burst of radiation, it blasted through the system with a flash of total destruction. Nothing could have survived, not even the ortholiquid itself.”

Grace nodded. “What does that leave us with, then?”

“—Three planets that are still in existence, and have maintained their ortholiquid. Unfortunately, none of them meet the criteria to become Enara, so the lost animas will have to be put in the boxes they gave you, and we will have to find their perfect planet later. So far, we have seen nothing even close to being a match to their requirements.”

Ledin nodded. “We have five boxes, so that should be no problem. Once we have recovered the lost animas, we can look for their ideal planet.”

The visitor went on, “The first is the second planet in a constellation the Sellites know as Tarboloreum. We have called the planet Tarboleus.”

“—From an ancient story about heroes who fought sabre-toothed tigers,” Diva told Grace. “Tarbol was a famous Cesan who was almost single-handedly responsible for making them extinct.”

“Some accomplishment!”

“Well, things were different then.”

“They sure were!”

One of the twins spun. “It’s a planet of surface pack ice on a sub-zero sea.”

“Ugh!” said Diva, looking very disappointed.

Six laughed. “It’ll be like coming home!” he said, nudging Ledin.

Diva gave him an irritated look. “You Kwaidians,” she said, “seem to think that anything cold and uncomfortable is home.”

“Now, don’t be snarky, duchess. We didn’t all have your start to life, remember. It will be great!” He beamed. “Nothing like a good chill day to get your blood flowing.”

“Cold could incapacitate us,” observed Bennel, in a disapproving tone.

“You would say that, sycophant!” snapped Tallen. “You are too old to enjoy things like ice. You should be sitting in front of a hearth inventing old battles to tell your grandchildren.”

“At least I am likely to have grandchildren, Namuri! You can talk when you have found a girl prepared to put up with your bad temper and nasty habit of stealing from people.”

“Why you—!”

Six stepped in between the two men, and stopped them from attacking one another. He was grinning though, which rather detracted from the gesture. Both the Coriolans turned against him with such a joint expression of indignation that he had a hard time not to laugh out loud.

“Stop it, will you?”

Tallen’s jaw jutted out ominously, before he decided to capitulate. “Very well, I take my comment back.”

“And I am sorry I forgot my place so much as to allow myself to reply.” Bennel hung his head.

Six turned back to the morphics. “What is the planet like?”

One of the twins turned darker. “Not very hospitable, I’m afraid. You are going to need mask packs all the time. There is an atmosphere, which is why that icy landscape exists, but the content of nitrogen and carbon dioxide makes it poisonous to you.”

Diva groaned again. “Oh no - cold, icy and toxic!”

“Sounds like you!” said Tallen, without thinking, and then clapped his hand to his mouth, and rolled his eyes. “I ... err ... I forgot!”

Diva’s eyebrows had gathered together. “Take that back!” She stamped one foot, reminding Six so unmistakeably of the first time he had met her that he started to laugh all over again.

She turned on him, furious. “And what on Lumina are you laughing at, no-name? I thought you would be on my side, now.”

He nodded insistently, although was unable to speak. Tears began to roll down his face, and Ledin seemed to have been infected with his mirth, for he was doubled over, too.

Diva stared at the pair of them with absolute disgust. “I think your brains have begun to disintegrate. I hear it happens often with rudimentary primates.”

Six bowed in her direction, and then gave a very exact imitation of a loquacious monkey. This only made them laugh even harder, and Grace was beginning to giggle now, as well.

Diva gave a haughty glare round the room, and then stalked over to one of the corridors leading off the bridge. “I am going to start the preliminary checks on the shuttles,” she said. “And I think you should all be getting things in motion instead of rolling around on the floor like children.”

She waited, and Six tried to stop laughing. Unfortunately, Ledin gave a snort at just that moment, which started Six off all over again, so Diva turned her back on them all with great dignity and walked majestically away.

Six elbowed Ledin in his ribs. “See what you have done?”

“Oh, sure. It’s all my fault now, I suppose?” Ledin rubbed at his ribs and raised his eyebrows accusingly. “If I remember correctly, it was the Namuri who started it all.”

Tallen spread his hands. “It just came out,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Well don’t do it again.” Six sighed, and straightened up. “She won’t be angry. Will she?” When he saw that no answer was forthcoming, he sighed, and walked out into the corridor, disappearing in search of his wife.

He found Diva angrily checking the mask packs in one of the shuttles. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes flashed, but he saw no sign of her teeth. “You were laughing at me.”

He wriggled, uncomfortable. “Not
at
you,” he clarified, “
with
you.”

“With me?” Her eyebrows nearly reached the ceiling. “Did you see me chuckling?”

Six shook his head.

“—Because I wasn’t. You were all making fun of me.”

“You make it sound horrible.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Six walked up to her, and lifted her face, frowning. “Of course you didn’t. You were just being you. That’s what I like about you.”

She sniffed. “I don’t like being laughed at.”

“Come on, Diva! It never bothered you before.”

“Things are different now. I feel ... more ... exposed.”

“Because we are together?” It was Six’s turn to be surprised. “Why?”

She shook her head. “I thought that it would be like Ledin and Grace – that we would suddenly feel it was all meant to be, and that we fit perfectly together, like the legend about the split heart on Coriolis – you know, that could only beat when the two halves were placed side by side.”

Six nodded. He had heard of the legend.

“But it isn’t like that. I feel all jerky, and unsure. It is all just as hard as it was before. I thought it would be ... different.”

He grinned. “Happy ever after?” he suggested.

Diva flushed slightly, obviously embarrassed. “I suppose so ... in a way.”

“But were you ever the princess?” Six looked sideways at her.

She thought for a long, long moment, and then breathed out crossly. “You know I wasn’t.”

He smiled. “You were the warrior girl, the savage. You can’t expect to have a fairytale ending, like a princess. It doesn’t suit you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You just called me savage!”

“Well, let’s face it, Diva, you aren’t particularly civilized.”