Moon Flower (29 page)

“Keep after them. Plan unchanged. Any more?”

“That’s it.”

Callen nodded. “Out.”

He called a map onto the screen, used an index compiled by the earlier missions to locate Doriden, and identified the Harzonne as a region of forested, hilly country on the border of Yocala and the land to the north, which was called Ibennis. For several minutes, he sat mulling. Then he got up abruptly and went a floor down from his office to the Communications Section.

The Duty Supervisor led him through to a room filled with consoles and monitor stations, from where surveillance operations around Cyrene and communications with the ship were coordinated. An operator brought up a screen showing the area inside a hundred-mile radius from the center of Revo. Scattered over it were numerous icons and codes indicating boats, conveyances, and other possibly connected activities that were being tracked. Callen extended a hand to point at the area he had studied upstairs. “Concentrate on here — somewhere along that route, between there and the Harzonne region. We’re looking for a brown, enclosed carriage with two horses, one black, one black and brown. Low priority on other categories. Discontinue other areas.”

So Wade was threatening to subvert the whole operation, and Interworld wanted him back, did they? Try persuasion first, but use as much force as necessary if that fails, Borland had said. Callen wasn’t in a mood to pussyfoot around asking favors or trying to persuade anyone. If he was going after Wade, he was going in hard, he told himself. He’d deliver to them what they’d asked for, with no nonsense and professionally — the way he knew how. And then they could all do what the hell they liked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Chev was not familiar with the region they were now entering. After climbing back up to the highlands beyond Doriden, the road reduced to little more than ruts in places, with occasional piles of gravel that were apparently left for filling in the muddy stretches in poor weather. The land became more open and rugged, with rocky crags and ridges of grass and shale slopes rising among between flat basins of bog land and shallow lakes hemmed in by rushes and reeds. Trees gave way to lower growths of brush and scrub inhabited by noisy populations of birds and various other small creatures that could be seen from a distance but vanished at the carriage’s approach. Jerri let Nim out to meander from side to side around the carriage, every now and again running ahead to investigate something he had seen.

Of course, there were the inevitable proliferations of flora. Chev stopped the carriage to point out a clump of huge lilac blooms growing twenty yards or so from the road that must have measured three feet across. Uberg insisted on walking across to have a look at them and said they belonged to the same group as the moon flowers, possessing the characteristic collar of secondary petals that closed during the day. Chev told them it was known as the “Oracle Rose” — at least, that was what Shearer’s NIAD made of it. It seemed to play a similar role in folk lore and mythology as crystal balls did on Earth, and was credited with the ability to instill visions of the future.

From the directions they had been given at Doriden, they would drop down into the valley of a west-flowing river called the Geevar before ascending again on the far side into the mountains of the Harzonne. There were settlements along the Geevar valley, and the hope had been to find accommodation of some kind there for the night. However, as late afternoon came, and they were forced to make a detour to find a ford across a stream on account of a bridge being partly down, it became clear that they were not going to make it down into the valley before dark.

It was the time of month when there was no moon, and the broken nature of the ground they were passing over, with steep drops falling away from the roadside in places, made it too treacherous to think of continuing. As Ra Alpha reddened and sank in the west, Chev decided on a ravine sheltered by rock walls as a suitable place to call a halt. A stream flowed through the bottom that would provide fresh water, and there was grass for the horses and brushwood that would make a fire to cook supper on and keep them warm through the short but intense night. The front boot of the carriage below the driver’s box held a stock of blankets, pots, and utensils, and they had picked up provisions at Doriden sufficient to rustle up a stew with bread followed by fruits and cakes, and supplemented by a couple of flasks of Doriden’s home-produced wine.

The fire attracted peculiar insects, and here and there pairs of eyes out in the darkness threw back reflections — but without whatever they belonged to venturing too close. Chev said he didn’t think there would be any animals in these parts to be concerned about. Nevertheless, it would do no harm to take turns at standing watch, even though, from what he had seen, Nim would let them know soon enough of any intruders.

After they had eaten, Chev entertained for a while with tales from his seafaring interludes. Then Jerri brought up the question that had been going around in Shearer’s mind earlier: How did Cyreneans feel about the thought of one day possessing the kinds of technology that the Terrans had?

Chev didn’t answer at once, but seemed to think it over while using a stick to retrieve some pieces of meat that he had set by the side of the fire, and then flipping them to Nim, who was alert and restless, no doubt because of the proximity of other strange animals. Finally he replied, “Yes we think such things are all very wonderful: Go to other worlds; see and talk across any distance; build machines to do lots of work.” He tapped the NIDA unit that he was wearing. “And this! A hat that hears other tongues and makes voices that speak in your head. I would have said it has to be magic. But the scholars back at Doriden tell me no. So maybe one day I will understand.” He looked around at the three Terrans. The boisterousness and playacting that had attended his sailing yarns had gone, and been replaced by a seriousness that Shearer hadn’t seen in him before.

“Cyreneans admire the knowledge and ability that it takes to do such things,” Chev went on. “To become capable of them too would make us proud and earn much respect. But your question did not ask how we would feel about
doing
or
being
anything. It asked how we would feel about
possessing
the results of work performed by others.” Chev shook his head. “I have heard this before about Terran ways, from people who work with Vattorix, and I still do not understand it. Is it true that simply the amount of possessions decides how the worth of a person is measured where you come from? And that people sell their freedom, even their whole lives, to outperform others in amassing possessions that they don’t need?” He half-turned to wave a hand toward the two horses at the edge of the circle of light from the fire, munching from a pile of grain that he had poured out of a sack to supplement the grass. “Look there. The horses are consuming feed that was planted and grown and harvested and threshed by our friends back at Doriden, or maybe a nearby farmer. And it is right that I should respect the farmer for that. But your system would have me honor the horse!”

Shearer’s eyes widened as he listened. This was what he had thought his whole life, but he’d had to travel to another star to hear an alien put it into such succinct words.

Chev paused. The Terrans looked at each other questioningly, but they remained silent. “Forgive me if I am being offensive,” he said.

Uberg shook his head hastily. “No, not at all. What you say is right. Don’t imagine that all of us agree with the way things are on Earth.” He waved a hand. “Please.... Carry on.”

“The morning that we left Soliki’s,” Chev said. “Before I collected the carriage, I had breakfast with some people who had been at Vattorix’s the evening before, at the dinner.”

“Okay.” Shearer nodded.

“There was a woman there who had just arrived from Earth with the new ship in the sky. She was said to represent Earth. The principal guest sent to meet Vattorix.”

“Gloria Bufort,” Jerri put in. She caught Shearer’s eye and rolled her own upward momentarily.

“That is she,” Chev said. “She asked nothing of what Vattorix has done to earn the trust and respect that we hold for him. Neither did anyone tell of what she had done to be so exalted among Terrans. But it was implied that her status is superior to his because she occupies a larger house. How can this be? If the quality of houses is to be the measure of who should represent Earth, then why was she there and not the craftsmen who built it?” Chev opened his hands in a way that said it made no sense, and inviting an explanation if anybody had one. Evidently no-one did. “She described at some length how she and her husband own many paintings by artists who are highly regarded on Earth,” Chev went on. “And it is right that fine works of art should be valued, and the artists who have the talent to produced them duly honored.” He shook his head, again with the look of incomprehension. “But none of the artists were present, and nothing was said in their honor. Instead, she, who has no talent, was honored for possessing them. If mere possession of goods is to be the measure of who should represent Earth, why did you not send a thief?”

A long silence persisted. Chev leaned forward to toss some more wood onto the fire. Shearer and Jerri watched the new flames brightening. Finally Uberg looked across at them from the far side. “I think we’ve answered the question of what kind of government they have here, anyway,” he said. “It is an aristocracy. But an aristocracy based on ability. It’s an aristocracy because those of inadequate talent or character are excluded from the higher ranks. But it avoids the evils that follow from the use of force to acquire material wealth, because the Cyrenean form of wealth can’t be acquired that way. Neither can it be stolen. And customs and laws aren’t necessary to exclude those who don’t measure up. They automatically exclude themselves.”

Since there were only four hours or so of full darkness at this time of year before the rising of the first sun, and neither of them was especially sleepy, Shearer and Jerri decided to share the first watch together and make it double length, which would let Uberg and Chev benefit from the most restful period. Chev fashioned a cocoon from blankets and skins, and was soon stretched out by the fire, his hat over his face, while Uberg, feeling the chill more, made up a bed for himself in the carriage. Nim, with the uncanny guarding instinct of his species, settled down on the outer side of the fire, positioning himself between his charges and the great unknown beyond. Shearer and Jerri found themselves a niche among some boulders to the side and snuggled up together under their blankets. It was practically the first private moment that they’d had together since leaving the ship. The ship seemed like another world that they had lived in a long time ago — which in many ways it was.

Shearer leaned his head back on the folded coat that he had spread on the rock behind them. It was a clear night, with myriads of unfamiliar stars shining brilliantly. The sight reminded him of Jerri’s interest in ancient mythology. “Do you recognize any of your constellations?” he asked her curiously. It was not a subject that he’d spent much time on himself. He knew Venus, low near the setting Sun when it was the only other light in the sky, but would have been unable to pick out any of the other planets.

“No,” she said. “I’ve looked, but they’re all different from here. I haven’t even learned where our sun is yet.”

“Do you think they had events in their skies here too — like the ones you told me about, when the poles shifted and different gods moved to the center?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’d need to know more about old Cyrenean myths.”

“What caused them?... Back on Earth, I mean.”

Jerri shrugged and leaned her head on Shearer’s outstretched arm to gaze upward along with him. “It would have to be encounters with other bodies. According to some theories, Venus and Mars were involved. There’s not much doubt now that Venus is a relatively young object, still hot. Astronomers used to think that the Solar System has been pretty much the way we see it billions of years, but nobody really believes that anymore. Violent changes have happened within recorded human history. And with electrical discharges between them on that kind of scale, the kinds of plasma discharge effects you’d get in the sky would be awesome — colossal, eerie, terrifying.”

Shearer had come across some of that. In keeping with the behavior of charged bodies immersed in a plasma — in this case the heliosphere, or plasma environment extending around the sun — the planets formed isolating sheaths around themselves, which in the normal course of events shielded them from each other’s electrical effects and resulted in regular, repeating, quiescent conditions determined only by gravity. But if instabilities were introduced sufficient for the sheaths to come into contact, powerful electrical forces would suddenly come into play, and the well-behaved models based on neutral bodies moving in a vacuum that had been blithely assumed since the times of Newton and Laplace would cease to apply.

After continuing to stare upward in silence for a while, Jerri went on, “I sometimes think that was where religions came from — the original ideas of gods battling each other in the sky, and sending thunderbolts and vengeance down on Earth. Maybe you’re right. Maybe nothing like that happened here, and that’s why the Cyreneans seem to be able to get along well enough without.”

“Without what? You mean religion?”

“Uh-huh. Well, it’s a thought....” She shook her head as if that still didn’t explain everything. “But, oh, I don’t know... We’ve already said it. They might be just into steam engines, but they get the important things right: truth, honesty, justice, kindness — the things that will make a better world in the long run. Something gives them the moral guidance and lets them see through scams and phony short-term fixes. But it doesn’t have to be forced. It comes from inside.”

“It’s the only place that kind of restraint can come from and be effective,” Shearer said. “It can’t be imposed from the outside.”

Jerri turned her head to look at him in the starlight and the glow from the fire. “So what is it?” Shearer could only shake his head. “Is it something about this planet, about Cyrene?... Tell me something, Marc. Can you feel it, just sitting out here right now? Something different. Like being more alive, somehow. As if you were a complete person for the first time in your life.”