Rhythm of the Imperium (18 page)

“Last evening’s dinner was wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never tried some of those foods before. You were so very nice to share with me. I’m sorry I had to run back right away to be with Proton.”

“It was my pleasure,” I said. I offered her a conspiratorial smile. “I have several other marvelous treats I’d like to offer you.” That sounded a trifle indelicate. I covered my confusion with a refined cough. “I’d be afraid to reveal the contents of my secret cache if nearly all of my relatives were not down on the planet’s surface. They are unrepentant vultures when it comes to someone else’s exotic delicacies. Somehow, distance seems to make even the most bizarre foods irresistible to those who did not pay for their importation.” I glanced at my hip, where my viewpad had been restored to its normal place in its handsomely tailored pouch. “It seems odd not to have one or another of my relatives pinging me, or be receiving new entries to their Infogrid files. We’ll all have to update sooner or later. I fancy they’re having wonderful adventures. I can tell you with relative certainty the additions to their files when they do return. One or more of them will befall some avoidable mishap. My cousin Nalney will lose something. Xan will break a few hearts. Jil will no doubt offend someone. She has a gift for it. Erita will complain bitterly about a minor slight that overshadows an otherwise wonderful experience. They will each greatly enrich the local economy, and they’ll return with numerous souvenirs and possibly as many images and digitavids as I have.”

“I look forward to meeting them,” Laine said, then hesitated. “One or two at a time. What did you think of Counterweight?”

“Very lovely,” I said. Memories of the day played through my mind in bursts of color, sound and scent. I began to combine my recollections with music and appropriate movements for future dances. “Alas that it wasn’t our ancestral homeland, but it is more ancient a human habitation than Keinolt or any of the Core Worlds. I believe that I have picked up some important insights on humanity that will inform my new dances. I’m preparing one to perform for my cousins when they return to the ship.”

“I thought your little dance as we were leaving the park was really good, even if your teacher made fun of it. What was that about?”

“My impression of the Whispering Ravines,” I said, adding a theatrical flourish of my hand. I limned the stark outline of the cliffs and the river below so I could almost hear the rush of the water. “The primitive landscape. Our sudden meeting and the fall of the rock that I thought would crush the Zang.”

“Yes, I got that!” Laine said, her eyes twinkling. “I could feel the danger you threw yourself into. Once I figured out what you were doing, I think I understood most of the moves you made. Uh, steps? Anyhow, it was like a language of its own.”

I beamed at her. No one else had interpreted the meaning of my dances as well as she did. “That’s exactly right! Madame Deirdre told me that movements were like phrases in a language. One puts them together to create a scenario. It is not enough just to show the actions. I must include the setting, the mood, and most of all, my emotional reaction to the event. Did you see that I didn’t fear for my own safety, but for that of the Zang?”

“Yes, I got that,” Laine said, with a laugh. “Did you really feel that way, or was that how you want your audience to
think
you felt?”

I clasped my hands over my heart.

“You wound me! I reacted much too quickly to consider my own danger.”

Instead of laughing, she put her hand on my knee. “I didn’t mean it to sound like you were puffing yourself up. It was really brave, considering you couldn’t know whether you were strong enough to move someone as big as Proton out of the way. He looks like he weighs tons even though he never leaves an impression on the ground. But you tried. That was wonderful. I admired that even more than the dance about it.”

Her open admiration mollified my wounded feelings. “Thank you. Did
you
enjoy visiting Counterweight?”

Her eyes danced.

“I did. Everyone there seemed to feel at home, like you said. It was a beautiful world. Not at all terrifying. Some of the planets that Proton takes me to are pretty scary places. Not that they aren’t beautiful, too.” She put down her cup to draw a picture on the air. “One continent we visited was all honeycombed rock. It was pretty, from a distance. The inhabitants were gigantic insectoids. I think Proton was fascinated with the patterns in which they moved. I certainly was. They never bumped into one another, no matter how crowded the passage. I’m sorry I couldn’t take any digitavids of them. You could have used them for your dances.”

“That is very kind of you to think of it,” I said. “Do you put any of your videos into your Infogrid file?”

She raised one shoulder. “Once in a while, but I’m often seeing the sights from inside the protective energy shell that Proton has around us. I can see out, but my poor viewpad can’t pick up a decent image.” She grinned an apology, which I was more than happy to accept. “It was nice to see a planet with an atmosphere again. What was your favorite part of your tour?”

“Without a doubt, meeting you and Proton Zang,” I said, with humble sincerity. My admission seemed to throw her into confusion. She blushed prettily. I changed the subject with haste. “How did you come to travel with it?”

“I was an anthropologist,” Laine said, drawing her dainty feet up onto the couch under a fold of her gown, showing that she was becoming more comfortable with me. “I still am, I suppose. I was in a concealed blind observing a human population that has been living on Virgo 834j, a planet the locals call Virn. It’s infested with the most fearsomely huge reptilians you have ever seen, that make Solinians look like newts. We’re not sure if the human settlers went to live there on purpose, or if they crash landed or were marooned. There isn’t enough of the settlement ships left to make a determination that satisfies peer review. Believe me, I have tried to find a legitimate explanation. If there were contemporary records, they’ve been purged.

“There’s a few thousand human beings surviving in that environment, but not too well. My university has been watching them for a few centuries now. The Virnese maintain remnants of Earth culture and law, such as trial by jury of one’s peers and freedom of speech, as well as some technological expertise, although that’s spotty. Whereas strength is dominant, it’s a matriarchal government because women make sure the population will survive. They live in villages surrounded by protective walls topped with sonic repellers. Those run on solar power by day and wind power by night. I based out of a very compact little tent with chameleon walls. It looks like a dead tree, or a thorn bush, or a lichen-covered stone, but it’s pretty sophisticated inside. I had a lot of other blinds, like inside the base of a statue, or under a building foundation.

“One day, after I’d been there for a couple of months, hiding in a copse in the main village’s common field, the Zang appeared. The people started running toward it, not away, which I thought was interesting, considering what I saw was a big, glowing pillar that came out of nowhere. They shouted to the others to come and gather around. I thought at first it was a local energy phenomenon, because there were images like it in the tribe’s records and carvings. I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing one of the Old Ones, but that’s what my Infogrid link said it was. The Virnese don’t exactly worship the Zang—they haven’t gone that primitive—but they consider its comings and goings as a kind of omen, and perhaps they see it as a protector. I noticed that a few of the most aggressive reptiles that had been trying to storm the barriers had simply … ceased to exist.”

“Good heavens,” I said, trying to picture the scene. “Thinning the herd?”

Laine raised her shoulders. “I suppose so. In its own way, Proton is an anthropologist. It was as curious about those humans as I was, but it wants to make sure they survive, so it tweaked the environment a little. I wouldn’t consider it ethical. It’s not good science as we humans see it, but who am I to judge? The Zang probably date from not long after the Big Bang, so maybe we’re the ones being too cautious in the way we approach subjects.”

“I see,” I said. I looked at her slyly. “Are you one of its subjects, then?”

Her cheeks dimpled bewitchingly, and her eyes twinkled. “I suppose I am. It found me watching the Virnese. It didn’t give away my position, for which I was grateful. They’re suspicious of interlopers, because strangers often mean that a raid is imminent. I was at risk for being tortured or killed. Proton picked up on that. It observed me observing the Virnese for a while, and became curious about me, too. In any case, when it left Virn, it took me with it. Just like that, I went from studying humans to studying the Old Ones. I was out of touch for over three months. It’s not uncommon for me not to check in more than once a month, but it was longer than usual. I like working on my own. That’s one of the reasons I took up field work. Weird, isn’t it, an anthropologist who doesn’t enjoy being with people? My supervisor had been frantic until I finally got back to him, then he was thrilled. The data I have been collecting are unique. I feel privileged. It’s been a scholar’s dream. The Zang see things and feel things that we can’t possibly imagine, into spectra and wavelengths that would kill ephemeral beings. Their perspective is one I try to understand but know I never will.”

“I am envious,” I said. I realized that my coffee had grown cold. I spilled the tepid liquid into the flower vase and poured a fresh cup of hot, cinnamon-scented brew for myself and for her. She sipped it gratefully. “When was the first time you saw them remove a planet?”

“Almost right away,” Laine said. She sat back in her seat, leaning her head on the top of the cushion, pulling reminiscence from the middle distance. “When we left Virn, we went straight to a place where a group of Zang had gathered. They were waiting for Proton so they could all destroy a rogue moon in deep space. We just hovered there. I should have frozen to death, or died of lack of oxygen, but I was fine. It was weird, but I felt perfectly safe, even though I was watching a heavenly body blown into energy from up close. The Zang are artists. You’ve got something wonderful to look forward to. I can’t wait to see it again.”

We wandered from conversation to conversation. As her host on board the
Jaunter
, I offered her pastries and other delicacies, topped up her coffee cup, and told her humorous stories. I had been saving a few choice anecdotes to amuse my cousins, but it seemed that Laine had never heard some of my old favorites. It was a pleasure to watch her laugh. When something struck her as hilarious, she threw her head back, revealing the slender column of her neck. Its shape bewitched me so much that I almost lost my sense of timing.

“I love that one about the fire extinguisher,” Laine said, wiping tears of merriment from the corners of her eyes with the edge of a napkin. “Where did you hear that?”

“On a warship, if you can believe it,” I began. “I was on punishment duty … .”

A wave of force passed, brushing my side like a heavy curtain. I glanced toward the Zang and the shouting Kail moving around it.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“It’s back,” Laine said. “Proton sends its consciousness way out among the stars. What you see here is only a small part of its real being, as if its soul is a million times bigger than its body. You can always feel it when it returns. At least, I can. It’s come back from wherever it was.”

“I felt it this time. Where did it go?”

A rueful expression settled on her small face. “I don’t know, even after all these years.”

Even the Kail seemed to sense the difference in the feeling in the room. They moved in closer to the silver pillar, and began to emit their high-pitched cries.

“What do you suppose they’re asking it?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Laine said, with an analytical glance. “They don’t appear to be worshiping Proton. See that body language? That looks like they are making a demand of some kind. Too bad we can’t ask the translator what they’re saying.”

“Sadly, no,” I said. “She told me all of their communications are confidential. I will try to wheedle my way around her programming. I’m difficult to stop when I am determined to succeed.”

Laine laughed again. “I can imagine. I’d find it hard to withstand you if you opened up those big blue eyes at me.”

I halted, feeling my throat grow tight. She could hardly know how cruelly she was toying with my feelings.

Or perhaps she did.

“I’m sure you have a lot of other things to do, Lord Thomas,” she said suddenly. “You don’t have to wait here with me. It’s all right.”

Hastily, I rose to my feet.

“I hate to leave you here with these boorish statues,” I said. I held out a hand to her. “Would you like to come up to our day room until they finish shouting at your friend? Not that your quarters are unpleasant in any way. It is merely the company to which I object.”

She shook her head.

“No, I’d better stay here. I don’t like these Kail, but I’m sure Proton won’t let them hurt me, and the guards are just outside the door. I’ll see you at dinner. What time shall I come up?”

“Seven?” I suggested. I bent over her hand and kissed it. “I will send my valet for you.”

She smiled, and my soul spun with joy.

“I’ll look forward to it, Lord Thomas.”

“Just Thomas,” I said. “I await the hour.”

Keeping my promise to Parsons, I waited until I had exited the chamber and was well out of sight before I launched into a magnificent leap terminating in a grand arabesque. I had experienced three marvels in one day: an ancient homeland of humans, a member of the elder race, and a woman who threatened to steal my heart.

CHAPTER 18

“Where are you?” One Zang sent to Proton.

“I am two hexaprag from the conclave,” Proton replied, feeling its low-frequency waves beating gently against the walls of the chamber it occupied. Rapid counter-rhythms pounded in a higher frequency. “I am within an ephemeral shell, circling above a planet.”

“Is it a disharmonious sphere?” Zang Quark inquired. “I feel intrusive energy.” Its senses joined One Zang’s in reading Proton’s energy vibrations. Proton felt Quark’s presence and opened all of its perceptions to be shared. Charm and young Low were also nearby.

“Far from it,” Proton assured them. “Symmetrical and beautifully proportioned. We removed an asteroid belt from this system nineteen hexaeons ago.”

“I recall that one,” Charm Zang said, its mental voice musical. “A glorious liberation of a handsome star. How has it matured?”

“Well,” Proton said. “Perceive.” It sent its impressions of the planet the ephemerals called Counterweight and the system surrounding it. The sun, a dwarf yellow star at the high end of the yellow spectrum and approaching middle age, sat serenely in the midst of its five planets’ orbits. A few comets swung within the Oort cloud, angling through the plane of the ecliptic, intersecting with those orbits but timed never to impact with any of the heavenly bodies or their satellites. The symmetry satisfied all of them.

“Beautiful,” Charm said, her senses extending into Proton’s space. “This was your work, wasn’t it? I recognize the arrangement. A masterful design. It would be difficult for any of us to better it.”

Proton accepted the praise, but could feel a slight disharmony coming from the group.

“Is there some concern?”

“No,” One Zang replied. It could sense the discomfort coming from Low Zang. The young one emitted insecurity. One Zang sent reassurance and calm. Low Zang accepted the soothing, but the unhappy tapping was still there as an undertone. “We study the subject of our next demolition that Low Zang has selected. Low is concerned that all will go according to plan.”

“Of course it will,” Proton said. “I have faith in you, Low Zang.”

“We all do,” Charm added its assurance.

A vibration of insecurity radiated out through the cosmos. Proton felt kindly toward the younger one. It could relive its own eons of immaturity and inexperience in what Low was going through.

“Do you still have your pet?” Quark asked, a humorous tone in its vibration.

“I do,” Proton replied. “It is one of the reasons that I returned here, to give her time with those like her.”

“Admit it,” Zang Quark said. “That race of ephemerals is your favorite.”

“I do not have favorites,” Proton said. “They all exist for far too short a time. It gives me pain when they die out.”

One Zang felt a trembling vibration from Proton that suggested its thoughts were not entirely true, but it had not created a disharmony worth bringing up.

“I sense other rhythms and sounds around you,” Charm said. “What is there?”

“More ephemerals, the mineral beings from six hexaprags at 265
^o
.”

“Those. They are far from home. They do not like it. Their sense of place is disrupted.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Proton allowed its consciousness to experience some of the ambient rhythms and sounds, and opened itself so the others could sense them, too.

“Why are they singing and dancing around you?” Quark asked.

“I don’t know. I only noticed them because you have.”

“It’s an unpleasant discord,” Low said, then lowered its aura so as not to displease the other Zang. Proton observed the withdrawal and reached out to Low with a sense of approval.

“You are right. That is why I choose not to notice them.”

“No need to pay attention to ephemerals,” Quark said. “Their concerns scarcely ever have bearing on what is eternal.”

“I quite agree,” Proton said.

“Then why do you keep a pet from one of these species?”

“She amuses me. She evokes a serenity most of these others lack. I find it soothing.”

“As long as you don’t let it distract you from what is important,” Quark said.

Proton chuckled and withdrew its contact. Quark used its abrasiveness to hide an insecurity almost as deep as Low Zang’s. The occasional study of the lower orders might help it to realize how foolish both of them were being.

It resigned itself to being in the midst of the noise and erratic motion, and settled into quiet contemplation. In terms of eternity, the disruption would not last more than a moment.

Silence fell in the shell. The ephemerals had ceased their unpleasant vibrations. Proton settled into quiet contemplation of the star system around it. Yes, they had done a fine job in this place. If Low could create a harmony like this one from its choice of matter-energy transformation, Proton would be very happy. It would even balance out the negative feelings from the silicon-based creatures.

“Stand there,” Lieutenant Ormalus told Phutes, once the Kail reached the communications center. The Uctu kept a good distance from the Kail. Phutes was relieved that she did not try to touch him as the human envoy kept trying to do. She sat down on a backless bench at a console twinkling with colored lights and manipulated the controls. Phutes eyed the Uctu’s switching tail with alarm, as if any moment it might reach out and strike him, covering him with disgusting organic particles.

Naturally, Phutes felt that the Kail were the perfect race of the galaxy—after the Zang, of course—but it was undeniable that outside Kail space it would have been helpful to have spindly little appendages like hands and fingers. Without them, the Kail were dependent upon carbon-based organisms to make intricate technology. Phutes might be able to listen to the stars, but to travel to them before he matured, he needed fingers. It was fortunate that the squishy ones were willing to make their fingers, and the devices that the fingers had made, available to them. It did not make him like or trust them more, but he acknowledged that they were useful.

“Hurry!” he ordered the Uctu.

“Don’t scatter your scales,” she said through the translator, her skinny appendages flying over the controls. On a screentank, colored pictures and images swirled into view, one after another. “
Whiskerchin
, this is
Imperium Jaunter
, commcode AS-587. Do you read?”

NR-111 translated the hail, including rendering the uncouth numbers into decent binary. Phutes only listened with part of his attention. He could hear the song of the electronic technology. 111100101 voices sang in his hearing, all of them silicon-based. The ships had not one voice apiece, but many. Different systems sent out greetings and received welcomes. Phutes felt almost as if he was home again, hearing siblings and motherworlds conversing around him.

The Uctu repeated her query. At last, a hearty voice responded. The graphics disappeared, revealing the broad face of the elder Kail. He moved his head to see over the Uctu.

“Phutes, is that you?”

“Fovrates!” Phutes said, relieved. “You’re all alive?”

“Of course, youngster. And you?”

Lieutenant Ormalus flipped 110 switches, then pushed back from the console. “All yours,” she said, moving swiftly to the door. “You’ll have privacy. Just don’t touch anything. It’s all alarmed.”

When she was gone, the three Kail crowded close to the screentank.

“I assume we are overheard,” Fovrates said.

“They left us,” Phutes replied. “We are alone.”

“Never believe that, youngster,” the engineer said, lapsing into their personal dialect, in a supersonic tone that made the circuits around them sing. “They listen to everything. Just make it as difficult as possible to understand.”

“We hear,” Sofus said.

“Have you enlisted the Zang’s help?”

“Have you ever talked to one?” Phutes countered, glaring at the scope. “It is like shouting at eternity.”

“Absolute power is not to be obtained without crossing many barriers,” Fovrates said. He was unmoved by Phutes’s temper. “Are you certain you can get its attention? The matter has become urgent.”

The Kail looked at one another with concern.

“How? What have you learned?” Phutes asked.

“I am running the data that our friends retrieved for us from the computer systems of the human ships and the planet against that which our motherworlds have amassed over the eons. I am only partway into the mass of data. It will take me a very long time to locate what we’re seeking, but I have made many discoveries already. It is as Yesa and Nefra feared. Humans and others have made numerous intrusions into Kail space. Many races have established beachheads there, but especially humans. They hide in dust clouds and among asteroid belts, away from direct observation. The chart I’m building will show you the domiciles they maintain in our territory from which you can be sure they are plotting the downfall of the Kail!”

Phutes felt his nervousness harden into grim resolve. Angrily, he raised his fist over his head.

“No, Phutes!” NR-111 exclaimed. The translator was always by him, like Yesa was at home. “Do not strike the console! It will set off alarms.”

Sofus shoved underneath to absorb the blow. Phutes brought his arm down with all the frustration in his heart. Shards of his sibling’s stony flesh flew off in all directions, clattering against the wall, the screentank and the floor. A deep gash had been opened in his neck, roiling with green acid. Phutes stood, emitting honk after honk of regret and fury.

“Are you better now?” Sofus asked. He bent to gather up all the little pieces. Balling them together in his heavy hands, he plastered the mass into the wound. Healing acid, the kind that was bright blue, bubbled up around it and enveloped it. Soon, the injury had smoothed over. Phutes watched with shame in his soul.

“I am sorry, brother,” Phutes said. “Yesa expects better of me.”

“It’s understandable,” Sofus said. He was always the calmest. “You were provoked.”

“Phutes, pay attention,” Fovrates called from the screen. Sheepishly, Phutes turned back. “BrvNEC*, post images. Let Phutes see what we have found.”

A metallic-sounding voice replied, “Yes, chief.”

The Kail leaned close. In the tank, they saw the familiar pattern of stars that surrounded the motherworlds. Yesa’s system was about one light year from edge to edge, including the Oort and errant bodies that moved in and out. Most of the spheres were familiar to them, but one after another, orange lights flared into life in the outer reaches.

“Those aren’t Kail worlds,” Phutes said. “What are they?”

“Intruders,” Sofus said, his tones dropping to deck-rattling registers. “They are everywhere!”

“It’s the same in every motherworld system,” Fovrates said. “More in some. Let me give you the coordinates of those in Yesa’s system, particularly the one that leaks the most radiation. Are you ready to memorize?”

Phutes looked at Mrdus. The small one signaled assent. “We are ready.”

“Listen. I won’t have time to repeat these. 111100010010101100000111110010100 … .”

Phutes concentrated deeply, allowing each of the open and closed numbers to tap a rhythm into his memory. He did not dare allow even one of the noises or smells coming from outside the room to distract him. Yesa must be so upset!

“… 000001101010000010101. Do you have the entire sequence?”

“We all do,” Sofus said. “This is an outrage! How dare the humans plant false planetoids in our home?”

Fovrates grunted. “You see? It’s even more important to secure the assistance of the Zang! We must be be prepared with a devastating blow against the humans if the negotiations do not go the way that Yesa and Nefra want.”

Phutes felt like hitting something, but he restrained himself. “I have told the Zang. It does not seem to understand that urgency. It sat and
hummed
at us. That eternal song that our mother told us it would understand has made no difference in its tone. It didn’t even turn to look at us. Not once! No amount of entreaty does anything to change it.”

Fovrates loomed forward, showing his impatience. “You have to keep trying. We have very little knowledge of what the Zang see and hear from us, apart from what Yesa and the other motherworlds have told us. You can’t be sure that you aren’t getting through to it, but if you don’t try, you’ll never make it understand.”

“Don’t you think we are?” Phutes asked. His system bubbled in anger. Gas generated by his internal reactions seeped out of his joints and made green clouds in the air. In annoyance, the other two waved away the fumes. “The humans must have convinced it to ignore us! They brought it here to indoctrinate it against us!”

“Excuse me, Phutes, but that is not true.” NR-111 spoke up, turning all its lenses toward him. “The Zang came here of its own volition. Neither the crew or anyone else on board has done anything to prevent it from forming its own opinions and interacting with anyone it pleases. It is our guest, not our prisoner, just as you are.”

“Don’t try to lie to me!”

Phutes couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He kicked out with his right foot, sending the servicebot flying across the room. She crashed into a wall of panels, activating a light module and several small screens. Sirens began to sound.

The mechanical being righted herself and rolled back toward him, taking care to keep out of his reach.

“I am not lying! I have kept my word to you. I have not told you a single falsehood.”

“You are part of the human conspiracy!” Phutes shouted. He lunged for the translator. Alarmed, NR-111 scooted away from him, dodging around the backless chair that Lieutenant Ormalus had abandoned.

“No. I serve the cause of diplomacy,” NR-111 said. “Please calm down, Phutes. Security is on its way. Please! We don’t want an incident!”

Phutes didn’t care. Since he couldn’t reach the space stations that sullied Yesa’s system, he wanted to crush the nearest thing to him that represented the hated humanity. Mrdus cowered in a corner, his multiple limbs wrapped around him for safety. Sofus stood in the middle as Phutes chased the servicebot around the room.

“Calm, brother,” he said, turning his whole body to follow his sibling’s progress. “Listen to Fovrates. We need to go back to the Zang and tell it all about the humans’ perfidy. It needs to know it has bad allies.”