The Winds of Altair (21 page)

The first sound came from a baby, which cried out a bawling, tearful demand for attention. Then the entire mass of human flesh seemed to stir, to shake itself, like statues coming to life. The very air rippled, as thousands of human beings began murmuring, moving, turning to look at each other and then, one by one, craning their necks to see who was on the catwalk above them.

Carbo released his grip on the railing. Somewhere down in the crowd, someone laughed. Voices spoke, softly at first, but then louder and louder as hundreds of conversations reverberated against the curving metal walls.

And then someone, either a woman or a child, began to sing a simple Nirvan hymn. A child's prayer, set to music; the kind that mothers use for a lullaby, and all converts are taught in their earliest Church lessons.

Another voice took up the hymn, and then another until the entire mass of people were singing their praise of God and their thanks. Jeff sang it, too, although he was so choked with emotion that he could barely get the words out of his throat. Bishop Foy's voice rang out with the rest, slightly off-key but powerful and happy.

I'll have to teach Dr. Carbo the words, Jeff thought. If he'll let me.

CHAPTER 28

The great cluster of domes called the Village slowly began to spiral away from the sixth planet of Altair. A precise hundred kilometers behind it, the even larger conglomeration of domes known to its inhabitants as Hope, spun in the same looping graceful orbit.

As if leading the way, the Village headed out toward a new position in space, equidistant from Altair VI and its parent star. The scientists in the Village called their destination the Lagrangian libration point, where the Village and its accompanying colony ship Hope would take up a stable orbit around blazing Altair. The students called their destination L-5, and determined to name the first colony they built there
Gerard K. O'Neill.

In the contact laboratory, Jeff Holman lay stretched on the couch one last time, as Amanda and Laura fastened the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, then positioned the silvery helmet on his head.

From the control room, Jeff heard Carbo saying, "We'll never find out if the wolfcats really are intelligent, if they truly have some form of communication."

"They are," Jeff called to him, "and they do."

"But we won't be able to prove it!"

"Yes we will. Later. After we've finished the first of the colonies and the colonists themselves have a good start on the next two, then we'll have the time to come back and study the wolfcats."

"And all the other creatures of Windsong," Laura added.

He tried to nod at her, but the helmet prevented his head from moving. No matter how many times I get into this rig, he laughed to himself, I always forget that it immobilizes me.

Amanda said, "Everything checks out here, Frank."

"Controls are ready."

"Are you ready, Jeff?" she asked him.

He licked his lips. "Yes."

"Okay. One last time."

"For a while."

Jeff closed his eyes as the delicate machines of silver and silicon hummed to life, sending electrons dancing through him, mating his mind, his whole nervous system with the pulsing electronic circuitry that flashed outward from the Village as it curved through space and reached toward the planet that was drifting farther and farther away from them.

One last time, Jeff thought. Soon we'll be too far from Windsong to reach Crown. One last time . . . for now.

Sitting on a wooded hilltop under the warm southern sun, looking out over the rich grassland and the forests beyond it that fed his clan, Crown felt the breeze ruffle his fur. It was a good wind, clean and strong. The strange place where the frightening pulsing metal machines and the strange alien intruders had been was already fading into the dark caves of his memory. He almost felt sad; his days of adventure and exploration were ended.

Something touched Crown, deep within his mind, and he felt a familiar thrill of inward excitement. He raised his head toward the sky and peered at the brilliant clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon. He looked for something that his eyes could never see.

But he felt the presence, a voice that spoke to him wordlessly, thoughts that went beyond words.

Goodbye, old friend . . . good hunting . . . I'll be with you again some day, but until then . . . goodbye.

The great gray wolfcat lifted his massive head toward the sky and bellowed a roar of sheer exuberance. A roar that echoed in a human mind, thousands of kilometers away.

About the Author

Ben Bova is a six-time winner of the Hugo Award, a former editor of
Analog
,former editorial director of
Omni
, and past president of both the National Space Society and the Science Fiction Writers of America. Bova is the author of more than a hundred works of science fact and fiction. He lives in Florida.