The Well of Stars (25 page)
Authors: Robert Reed
“What do you think it means?” asked a woman’s voice.
O’Layle woke from a deep sleep. He was stretched out on his leather covered chair, in the center of his immersion chamber, its walls and high ceiling adorned with the best projectors on the market. His visitor was a projection,
of course. Trying to smile, he made himself rise up from his chair, saying, “It’s good to see you, madam.”
of course. Trying to smile, he made himself rise up from his chair, saying, “It’s good to see you, madam.”
The Master Captain approached.
“I am honored,” O’Layle proclaimed. “To have you take the time and effort to see me—”
With her right foot, she kicked him.
Appalled, he fell to a floor covered with slick cold hexagon-shaped projectors. The projectors were still sleeping. And she was real? The question must have shown on his face. The Master kicked him a second time, with emphasis. Then she roared, “It is definitely not an honor, you little man.”
He cowered at her feet.
“No more games,” she threatened. “This long careful seduction is finished, and now I expect honesty. Will you give me that?”
“Gladly,” he sputtered.
“What do you think it means now, little man?”
“Now?” Confusion blossomed.
“Tell me the truth,” the Master demanded.
“About the polyponds—?”
“Why? Is there some other alien you’ve slept with?”
He bowed his head, trying to swallow.
“What do the polyponds intend, O’Layle? Right now. Tell me!”
“To protect themselves,” he whispered.
“Is that so?”
That’s what he had told the lover who had visited him, and who had, in a distant fashion, slept with him. “It couldn’t be more simple,” O’Layle had explained. “The Great Ship is a toxin, a contagion. That’s how the polyponds see us. And the swarm is simply the best means available to build a protective cyst around the perceived threat. Our neighbors just need to make sure we cannot do them any lasting harm.”
But he wasn’t certain about his own logic suddenly. Something new must have happened while he slept. Why
else would the Master Captain have bothered to see him in person? The captains watched every little thing that he did. They absorbed every word he said. The Master had to know what he had told others. O’Layle was shrewd enough to read the golden face and the terrified wide eyes, and with his own fear swirling in his old blood, he admitted, “I don’t know what they want—”
else would the Master Captain have bothered to see him in person? The captains watched every little thing that he did. They absorbed every word he said. The Master had to know what he had told others. O’Layle was shrewd enough to read the golden face and the terrified wide eyes, and with his own fear swirling in his old blood, he admitted, “I don’t know what they want—”
“Look,” she roared.
The projectors came to life again.
Again she kicked him, saying, “Lift your eyes. Now.”
He found himself sitting on the illusion of the leading hull, surrounded by a forest of elaborate mirrors. The sky was black when he fell asleep, but not any longer. A lovely blue glow was washing down over his cowering form.
“They’re firing their engines again,” the Master reported.
“Why?” he muttered.
“What you’re seeing,” she explained, “is the light of their engines passing through their own watery bodies.”
But he couldn’t see the blaze of the nearest rockets. Which was peculiar, yes. It took him a long moment to understand:
The polyponds were slowing themselves.
A million polypond buds, give or take, had turned themselves 180 degrees, and now they were giving themselves the tiniest of nudges.
Why?
Then O’Layle heard himself laughing, and with that laughing voice he told the Master Captain, “Madam, I’m not the smartest soul … I know that … I know … but to me, it looks as if we should expect a little rain …”
Even now it was possible to live out the days and weeks in a scrupulously ordinary fashion: normal meals eaten on a regular schedule; routine work accomplished with a gentle competence; quick visits to odd districts and
ritual-drenched meetings with an array of species; and sometimes a bite of sleep swirled with the little pleasures of love and purchased dreams. The polyponds’ grand plan was being unveiled in every portion of the sky. The horde was descending, and for the moment, no force could blunt it. Yet Washen found slivers of time to enjoy a quiet dinner with friends and colleagues. Sitting at a random table inside an obscure restaurant, she discovered that she could still find the pleasure in the taste of the noodles smothered with squid and tomatoes. She could laugh honestly at one of Pamir’s peculiar stories. And with a convincing ease, she heard herself adding to his tale, giving her own perspective before concluding with a shrug and shake of the head, “Which is why we keep the Myrth and Illakan at opposite ends of the ship.”
ritual-drenched meetings with an array of species; and sometimes a bite of sleep swirled with the little pleasures of love and purchased dreams. The polyponds’ grand plan was being unveiled in every portion of the sky. The horde was descending, and for the moment, no force could blunt it. Yet Washen found slivers of time to enjoy a quiet dinner with friends and colleagues. Sitting at a random table inside an obscure restaurant, she discovered that she could still find the pleasure in the taste of the noodles smothered with squid and tomatoes. She could laugh honestly at one of Pamir’s peculiar stories. And with a convincing ease, she heard herself adding to his tale, giving her own perspective before concluding with a shrug and shake of the head, “Which is why we keep the Myrth and Illakan at opposite ends of the ship.”
Everyone laughed in some patient fashion. Osmium’s breathing mouth made an agreeable whistle. Quee Lee and her husband cuddled and nodded knowingly; Perri had probably already heard the tale. Aasleen glanced at her companion, and the AI took the cue to smile with its handsome face, its various hands folded on the empty place setting. What was it about engineers and their machines? Were some engineers simply so good at their art that they could accomplish more with the tools than Nature and simple courtship could manage? Washen considered asking that blunt question. Then she hesitated, and in the next moment realized that she had enjoyed perhaps one too many of the fortified wines that had been brought with their meal.
Another half dozen captains sat at the round table, plus spouses and dates, and in one case, both. The lowest-ranking captain gestured timidly, pulling up his courage to ask, “Do you eat here often, madam?”
“Never,” she confessed.
He was the onetime dream-merchant. Over the last decades, his expertise with the public mind had proved invaluable, and that was partly why she had invited him. But mostly, she found him pleasant and observant, and
more than most captains, honest. The captain grinned for a moment. Then simple curiosity made him ask, “Then how exactly did you choose this place, madam?”
more than most captains, honest. The captain grinned for a moment. Then simple curiosity made him ask, “Then how exactly did you choose this place, madam?”
“I grew up nearby,” Washen mentioned, a long finger drawing a circle in the air. “In a little house barely two kilometers that way.”
The hour was exceedingly late. Except for Washen’s party, and the restaurant’s owner and robot staff, the restaurant was empty.
Quee Lee said, “Madam.”
Washen glanced at the ancient woman, eyebrows lifting.
She corrected herself, saying, “Washen.” Since Quee Lee was not a captain, there was no need for formalities. “Something just occurred to me. Maybe I’ve asked in the past, I don’t know—”
“What?”
“Have you ever been anywhere but the Great Ship?”
“Never, no,” Washen replied.
Perri lifted his delicate chin. “What about Marrow?”
She embraced the question. Then she asked him in turn, “Why is that someplace else?”
“The ship is ruled by captains,” he argued. “Who rules Marrow today?”
“Fair point.” Staring at Perri, she began dredging up random details about his long, busy life. What was catching her interest here? She wasn’t certain. She could almost see it, but then her thin logic was broken by the sound of a new voice.
“Madam.”
A young man was filling up the restaurant’s front door. Behind him, in the late-evening gloom, perhaps a dozen others stood in a loose tangle. All were young, but not all were human. At least two Janusian couples stood near the front, and a giant harum-scarum stuck up in back.
To all of them, she said, “Hello.”
“Madam,” the young man said again. Then he stepped
closer, a hint of nervousness betrayed in the quick rolling of his thick fingers. “Do you remember me?”
closer, a hint of nervousness betrayed in the quick rolling of his thick fingers. “Do you remember me?”
Security systems went on silent alert.
The face might be familiar, or might not, and there could be something memorable in the broad build of his body. If that hair was longer, and if he was years younger—
“I once walked with you,” Washen recalled. “When the Master Captain and her officers met near this place.” Then came the natural doubt that follows most intuitions. “Am I right? Just a couple centuries ago—”
“Most of my life ago,” he added happily.
A name emerged from the security nexus. Washen ignored it, preferring to ask the young man, “What should I call you?”
“Julius.”
“Those are your friends, Julius? Cowering behind you?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Join us,” she said. And when he hesitated, she rose from her chair, her uniform shimmering in the dim light as she waved at everyone. “Come in. We’ll make room. Come join us, please.”
DECADES AGO, AASLEEN saw what the polyponds were planning. While the ship was still on the outskirts of the Inkwell, she had mentioned, “It would be a mess, you know. If just a tiny portion of that nebula happened to fall on our heads.”
Later, she had no memory of that offhand comment. There were good reasons why she would have dismissed the whole concept. Their ship was moving at a brutal pace, while the nebula was very nearly at rest. The polyponds preferred slow travel, and by every account, they used only patient methods to move the dust and gas. But Washen managed to remember that suggestion, and when the polypond buds first started to accelerate, she repeated
those words to her chief engineer, adding, “What do you think now?”
those words to her chief engineer, adding, “What do you think now?”
With a dismissive shrug, Aasleen said, “Not much, madam.”
“You aren’t worried?”
“About many things, yes. But the idea that they might come at us at once, en masse … no, that’s not keeping me awake tonight …”
She had reasons, good, clear, and perfectly rational reasons. The choreography would be enormous. How could hundreds of thousands of bodies move together but never touch? Because they were large enough and massive enough that if they did touch, their watery selves would merge. A single impact would generate enough heat to boil both of the victims, and their organics would cook. In some sense, they would die. And if several of the fifty-kilometer buds joined together, and then caught up several more with their increasing mass … well, there were too many chances for mistakes, too many ways in which a cloud of little polyponds would find themselves falling into the same gravity well, building a world of steam and death that wouldn’t accomplish anything with a strategic sense.
“But what if that new world hit us?” Washen had asked.
“Even then,” the woman had replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s a huge mass, yes. Our weapons and shields wouldn’t blunt it at all. But remember, they’ll be moving at very close to our velocity. The kinetic energies are relatively mild. The likely result … let me think … yes, the obvious result would be a damaged hull and a huge flash, and then a cloud of steam that would cling to the ship for the next thousand years or so …”
“The ship would survive?”
“And prosper,” Aasleen added. “Think what we could accomplish with all that free water.”
For a few years, that was the end of the discussion.
But the polyponds kept rising out of the depths of the
Satin Sack, engines firing, carefully gathering their bodies into a complex, ever-shifting sphere that was just distant enough and just diffuse enough to prevent any unplanned collapse. What Aasleen had seen by instinct years ago, every AI and crew member and clear-eyed passenger began to see for himself.
Satin Sack, engines firing, carefully gathering their bodies into a complex, ever-shifting sphere that was just distant enough and just diffuse enough to prevent any unplanned collapse. What Aasleen had seen by instinct years ago, every AI and crew member and clear-eyed passenger began to see for himself.
Then the polyponds began to speak to each other, and soon afterward, the leading wave turned around and began to brake its terrific momentum. While the Master Captain was standing in O’Layle’s cell, hoping for answers that never came, her First Chair visited Aasleen. Wearing a grim expression, she looked at her old friend, asking an open-ended, “What next?”
“If they can coordinate their fall, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“And keep compensating for any changes we make in our velocity?”
“Yes.”
Quietly, with a knifing honesty, Aasleen described one possible if very unlikely future.
“And if that happens,” Washen asked, “what?”
“But I doubt it can happen,” the engineer added.
“Why?”
For a moment, she was silent. Then the entire face smiled, the mind behind it delighted to have such an odd, unexpected conundrum, and with an almost joyous laugh, she admitted, “I doubt it happens because it’s too strange, and too awful, and I’m going to stick my head in a dark hole now, thank you.”
THE NEW GUESTS seemed happy and awed and very polite. Even the young harum-scarum acted a little cowed by the presence of so many important souls, which prompted a rude noise from Osmium’s eating hole. “Sit like you belong here,” the Submaster warned. “Or lie on the floor and let me set my feet on your bent back.”
When the old people laughed, the youngsters joined in with nervous chuckles. The boy who had once walked
with Pamir and Washen now took a seat between them. A plate of hot food had been delivered, but he didn’t act hungry. Smiling, he said, “Thank you.” He smiled at his plate and lifted a fork, and then the fork dropped again as he told his dinner, “Thank you.”
with Pamir and Washen now took a seat between them. A plate of hot food had been delivered, but he didn’t act hungry. Smiling, he said, “Thank you.” He smiled at his plate and lifted a fork, and then the fork dropped again as he told his dinner, “Thank you.”
“I remember our little stroll,” Pamir said. “You promised me you were going to become a captain when you grew up.”
The guests fell silent.
“Am I confused?”
Julius sighed. “No,” he allowed.
“I don’t see you in any ensign ranks,” Pamir rumbled. “Why is that?”
The broad shoulders rolled, and an embarrassed voice said, “I changed my mind, I guess.”
Washen showed him an agreeable face. “Of course you changed your mind. Only fools live the lives they dreamed up as children”
But Pamir had a better sense of things. “But that’s not the reason. Is it, friend?”
Another young human—a pretty woman with huge pink eyes—blurted out, “What would be the point?”
Everyone fell silent.
The pink eyes blinked hard. And then a defensive voice added, “There isn’t time to pass even the first level in captain’s school. Is there?”
Julius threw a warning look at his friend, but then found the voice to explain, “It’s common knowledge. In a few days, the polyponds are going to be here. They’re going to fall on our heads and flood the hull, and there isn’t anything we can do to stop them.”
There. It had been said.
But Washen refused to do anything but smile. “We aren’t entirely defenseless,” she remarked. “For years now—ever since we felt halfway sure of their plan—we have made our own plans. Adjustments. Arrangements. Entire worlds don’t have a tenth as much energy and talent as we have, and I don’t believe that anybody … and that includes the important souls sitting at this
table … none of us can understand or appreciate just how powerful we can be … !”
table … none of us can understand or appreciate just how powerful we can be … !”
The words had an impact. The new guests sighed. Even the captains seemed more relaxed, more confident.
“So what if they grab hold of us?” Pamir muttered. “They have to survive on the hull. They have break through at least one hatch. All of the hatches have been reinforced ten different ways, of course. And even if they get inside, unlikely as it sounds, how many millions of souls will they have to fight just to reach any important part of the ship?”
Gloom had been cast aside. A keen if fragile sense of invincibility hung over the scene.
Washen watched the faces, the bodies. Only two of her companions showed doubts. Oddly, one was the man who had just spoken: Pamir clamped his mouth down tight, something foul against his tongue. Bless him, he was trying to sound like a good captain, brave and assuring and full of fire. But he knew too much and was far too honest. In another moment or two, he would clear his throat with a hard rattle and spit out a few sarcastic barbs.
The other doubter sat even closer, and he had the quicker tongue.
“But I wonder,” Julius muttered.
Washen studied him for a moment. “What do you wonder?”
“Do we really understand their goals?” He was more child than man, but sometimes that was a strength. Julius didn’t have enough time or experience to feel rock-sure about anything. “The polyponds,” he said, as if anyone forgot about whom they were speaking. “We’re assuming they want to steal the Great Ship. But isn’t that an awfully smug assumption?”
“Smug?” Aasleen replied, bristling now.
Osmium made a rude sound.
But the youngster refused to be intimidated. A charming little shrug led to a simple comment. “As I remember it,” he said to his audience, “there’s some evidence that
when worlds drift inside the Inkwell, they vanish. Somehow, the polyponds manage to tear them apart.”
when worlds drift inside the Inkwell, they vanish. Somehow, the polyponds manage to tear them apart.”
Aasleen dismissed him with a slicing gesture. “First of all,” she began, “worlds are very slow animals. Each spends tens of thousands of years drifting through the Inkwell. While we’re moving at much greater velocities than any solar system, and we’re only spending thirty years here.”
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