This Gulf of Time and Stars (39 page)

About to agree, I changed my mind. “Maybe not.”

There being a delegation heading our way, with Tle di Parth in tow.

H
E'D
STAY AT SIRA'S SIDE
through peril and joy. Not this, Morgan assured himself with an inner smile. What brought an infuriated Chooser with an escort of two much older Clanswomen and yes, there were more behind, hurrying to their Clan's leader had nothing to do with her Chosen. Maybe the M'hiray weren't as concerned about his being Human anymore, but he knew when to make himself scarce.

Especially with Tle involved. If she tried to 'port him away? Just say there'd be an entirely different problem.

Problems weren't on his mind at the moment. A growing, dreadful surmise was, cobbled together from half-formed notions and a scattering of facts. Thought Traveler said he already knew the Makers' purpose. Better to say, the Human told himself, he hoped he was wrong. If he was right?

Well, there was a reason he hadn't told Sira yet. She was determined to be open and honest with her people. Before she faced them with this, he had to be sure, either way.

Morgan walked through the Dream Chamber, responding to greetings with a smile, a dignified nod to acknowledge those who fell silent to watch him pass. More greetings than before, especially from the younger M'hiray. Well enough.

The remaining M'hir Denouncers kept together, as he'd
expected, claiming eight beds in a row, then rigging tables at their ends. Tables, he was interested to see, covered with what hadn't come from Stonerim III. They'd been busy.

The brothers, Arla and Asdny, grinned to see him, their parents, Holl and Leesems waving distractedly, heads bent over one table. Andi was off playing with her new friends, but her parents, Josa and Nik, were sitting cross-legged on one of the beds, a dismantled instrument between them. Morgan hoped it wasn't broken. They'd no spare parts.

The Oud did. His refurbished comlink among the reasons Morgan sought the scientists, he pulled out the device as he approached.

First to spot it, Arla made an odd gesture, passing his hand back and forth over his eyes.

Asdny noticed. “Can you tell what happened to it?”

“Different,” Arla told his brother, squinting through fingers.

“That it is.” Morgan handed the device to Leesems. Josa and Nik stood and came over to watch. “An Oud took it apart and rebuilt it.” Without leaving a trace of that reconstruction on the exterior. “How did you know?”

“Arla's a Looker,” Asdny explained, the words coming faster and faster. “He sees what's changed. The First Scout was impressed—”

“Asdny!”

“He was. He gives us special duties.”

“Because Asdny's a great climber,” Arla clarified.

The Human carefully didn't smile, though at a guess, those duties would be anything to keep the pair safe. “We're fortunate to have your help,” he told them. To their father. “I want to rig it for sleepteach tonight. What do you think?”

In other words, would he be scrambling something important if he connected an Oud-touched object to his subconscious?

Leesems nodded. “Nik and I should be able to check that.”

“That's not why you're here, is it?” Holl's eyes searched his face. “You've learned something.” She lowered her voice. “So have we. Come, sit with us.”

They sat on the centermost beds, facing one another across
the gap. The brothers kept busy at the table. Lookouts, Morgan judged, not that anyone would bother them. The rest of the M'hiray had become accustomed to the scientists' tendency to cluster in conversation that most couldn't understand.

Or chose not to understand. He'd been aware since first meeting Barac and Kurr that the Clan as a whole regarded technical expertise as unimportant, almost demeaning. After all, they'd Humans for what little their Power couldn't accomplish. Art and music? Hobbies. Mere interests. As was any scholarship.

Seeing the earnest faces around him, sensing their
commitment,
Morgan wondered if Mirim had realized what she'd done, gathering those with such unClan-like passion for knowledge, such open minds. On second thought, knowing her daughter? He'd no doubt at all.

Holl spoke first. “I've analyzed the samples we have so far. I'm confident we can put together a decent diet. For you, too,” she added.

At last, some good news. “Thank you,” the Human said sincerely. “That was quick work.”

“We'll need to be quicker.” Her thick brown hair curled at the ends, a sign of tension. “The Sona must stop eating dresel—at once. Sira has to convince them.”

That, he hadn't expected. “Why? What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Everything. Dresel contains the key nutrients, as we predicted, but that's not all it has. It's full of engineered compounds.” Holl leaned forward, her sober gaze fixed on Morgan. “In my opinion, those compounds have one function: to speed Om'ray metabolism dangerously beyond normal.” Her eyes narrowed. “You knew.”

“Not about the food,” Morgan replied. “Sira's age surprised the Tikitik. He said, ‘Our Om'ray burn faster.' That's what this means, isn't it?”

“‘Faster'?” She sat back. “Burn out is more like it.”

“Why?” Josa asked. “If the populations suffer from food shortages, an accelerated metabolic rate would only make it worse.”

“Would it shorten generations?” Morgan shared what Aryl had told them.

“Definitely, but if this is deliberate, what's the reason?”

Nik gasped. They all looked at her. “Surely you see it,” she said. “The Tikitik and Oud—they've been breeding Om'ray. Breeding us!”

The M'hiray fell silent. “Go on,” the Human urged. They shouldn't be shocked. Hadn't the Clan Council been doing the same?

They began a hushed murmuring, each finishing the other's thoughts. “Shorter generations—”

“Birthrate's still low. Could compensate—”

“Changing between Oud and Tikitik drastically alters each Clan's environment—”

“Creating selection pressure—favoring adaptations related to survival, reproduction—”

“A monster killed Deni!” Holl covered her mouth.

Silence again, this time grim.

Then Nik spoke. “Accelerated, targeted evolution. Everything points to it, even the way Om'ray unChosen needed permission—tokens—to cross to another Clan.”

A puzzle, Morgan thought, putting itself together. Tokens and Speaker pendants . . . the Tikitik had a sense to locate them. A “favorite” food for every Clan? No doubt who'd engineered it. The way the Tikitik's cilia had
tasted
Sira, learning what she carried, its parentage?

“The Tikitik look after the biotech,” the Human concluded. “The Oud reshape the physical landscape. Cersi isn't a world—”

“It's an experiment,” Josa, his eyes round. “But whose?”

Transmitters in the pendants. A starship marking the location of each “Clan.” Moons that housed the Tikitik's “Makers.” The Old Ones of the Oud, leaving relics that responded to the M'hir. The Stratification of Om'ray and M'hiray.

Everything snicked into place when Morgan added that one final piece: the Hoveny Concentrix.

“Yours.”

“M
ATTERS
OF CHOICE
are decided by Council,” Tera di Parth insisted. “Sona has a Council. Therefore the matter should be up to—”

“The Chooser,” Tle responded grimly. “I'm not letting strangers dictate my Choice.” She looked at me.

I looked at Enora, who was doing her utmost not to smile. Making that difficult was the glowing figure of Ermu sud Friesnen beside her, Chooser no longer.
Joy
came off her in waves. I shook my head. “In the shower.”

Nothing innocent in those sparkling eyes. She'd waylaid Oseden sud Parth, that was the truth of it, though he'd been more than happy to take her hand and I couldn't, quite, bring myself to object.

It wasn't as if a Joining could be undone.

No need. This is a good one.

I blinked. Before I could chase that disturbing notion, Aryl went on,
The problem is Tle. Her Power-of-Choice has begun to call.

Hence the escort and anger.

On one hand it was ridiculous. Our remaining unChosen were now in the Council Chamber, restrained for their own safety. Sona's unChosen had tried to leave his village—in truenight—and was similarly trussed until, according to Destin, his brains returned.

On the other, it was tragic. Whatever happened next, someone would pay the price for the Clan's mistakes.

“The Sona will be here, with us, tomorrow,” I said, focusing on the angry Chooser. “With their unChosen.”

“Noil di Rihma'at is the son of their Speaker and by all accounts a fine young Om'ray,” Enora volunteered. “He's—” a delicate pause “—eager to be offered for your Choice, Tle.”

“He lives in a tree.”

Peace, Tle.
It wasn't polite to send during such a meeting, but I'd other matters to attend to, more important ones than a stubborn Chooser and antsy unChosen. “Has anyone checked on Jacqui?”

“She's as yet unaffected.”

MINE THE CHOICE!

There was the real answer, I thought, wincing with the others at Tle's shout. The weaker Chooser wouldn't contest Tle, not while this close to losing control. Just the same, we'd best make sure Ruti's Birth Watcher stayed out of the shower.

“The Sona have somgelt.” Tera folded her hands in her lap. “And a Council. All we need do is observe the proprieties.”

Somgelt being the drug used to “ease” the mind during Choice, smothering fear and doubt. As for the “proprieties?” I understood, all too well. I didn't blame Tera for clinging to what we'd known, in the Trade Pact, how we'd been.

But it hadn't worked then. It wouldn't now. “I'd prefer,” I said in as reasonable a tone as possible, “we don't introduce ourselves to Sona's families by killing their unChosen.”

“He wouldn't fail,” Tle claimed, her head high. “I can
hear
him. He's strong.”

I glanced at Ermu. She'd Commence within days; be whole as she'd never been. Tle deserved the same. Maybe, I thought hopefully, this would end well.

“But I don't want him.” Sullen as a child. “I won't Choose him.”

Or not.

Tera threw up her hands. “See what we've been dealing with?”

Enora, however, nodded. “Ah. I see.”

“Sud!” Tle glared at her. “You see nothing.”

I resisted the urge to
SNAP
at the irate Chooser. Sud or not,
Enora's Talent was undeniable. No shield, no Power, could keep her from reading the emotions of others if she chose. Something was going on here. “Enora?”

She inclined her lovely head at Tle. “Please. Tell Sira. Trust her.”

Tera shook her head. “It's unnatural—!”

“It's how we were. How we're supposed to be. Mirim—” Thinking of my mother, Tle's outrage subsided. “Mirim told me of the right way. The better way.” Her scowl reformed. “If you'd just give us time—”

“‘Us'?” I repeated with a sinking feeling. “Don't tell me you think you can wait for Asdny di Prendolat.”

“He'd never survive your Choice, you fool,” Tera scolded.

“He would—he will!” Tle focused on me. “Sira, your mother told me Choosers and unChosen should live together, learn about one another. Fall in love if we can. She brought me to Asdny, urged me to stay as close to him as I could. I do—I do care for him.”

She does,
Enora sent
. I know you understand, heart-kin.

Who better? I thought sadly. My mother's dream of what we should be was just that, a dream. Tle's affection for Asdny wouldn't protect him.

They'd brought me unChosen to meet, children really, ever hopeful. I'd felt affection for them all.

And killed the first offered for my Choice.

My Joining with Morgan almost killed him. That it hadn't was due to the depth of our love, yes, but also his great strength and courage.

I couldn't allow this.

I rose to my feet, the others doing the same. “Tle di Parth. You cannot remain a threat to our unChosen.” As I'd been. “Tomorrow you will offer Choice to Noil di Rihma'at or leave us and live apart.”

As I had.

Her face was a study in anguish.

You may not have Asdny,
I told her.
If you decide to leave, to protect him and the others, I promise to find you another Choice, a good one. There are more unChosen on this world, Tle. You're strong enough to wait. I did. I know you can.

Something eased the pain in her face. “I accept exile,” Tle announced.
Let Jacqui have the Sona. She's waited longer.

While that wasn't her decision to make, I gestured gratitude.

The others bowed, gesturing respect. I hoped the rest of the M'hiray were going to approve of what I had to tell them. Even more, I hoped I could live up to my promise to one.

Enora let the others leave. “Well done,” she said.

“I never thought I'd act like my father,” I admitted ruefully. “When did that happen?”

“You are nothing like Jarad.”
I've watched you search for answers, heart-kin, until you fell asleep over your machines. I've seen you find hope for all of us, fight for all of us, time and again. That's why we believe in you, even Tle. It's not about Power. You care—for all of us.
“Rest, Sira,” she finished aloud, smiling. “Tomorrow's a new day.”

I smiled back. “And full of hope?”

Her dark eyes twinkled. “I don't need to tell you that.”

Having discovered actually useful Keeper-memories, I showed the M'hiray how to set the lighting above their beds. By the time Morgan and I sought ours, most of the Dream Chamber had dimmed. There was a distant brightness marking where Holl and the others continued to work; others where people stayed awake, talking over what I'd told them, in whispers or in outward silence.

As did we. The beds to either side were vacant, a courtesy. Morgan and I nestled together on one, it being wider than our cot on the
Silver Fox,
neither of us interested in sleep.

Forget I'm here,
Aryl had told us smugly the instant we'd pulled up a blanket.
I need sleep too—and I've no interest in being a spectator.

I'd blushed at Morgan's chuckle, but we both knew why her presence faded away the closer we came to one another. Enris. She now spoke of her lost Chosen—Enris this, Enris that—with ease, sharing light-hearted moments. On recognizing the embossed metal bracelet Enris had made for her, so long ago and on this world, she'd consoled Barac with her memories of its gifting, and urged from him memories of his brother.

I wore the bracelet now, my cousin insisting, though I couldn't help but think it only added to the unimaginable pain filling Aryl di Sarc, a pain she disguised, one she used for strength.

As I drew upon joy. I snuggled closer, my hair cloaking Morgan's shoulders and chest, loving how his arm curved warm and strong around me. “I think that went well,” I said after a moment. “I didn't
pry
, of course.” I paused, feeling him breathe. “Did it go well?”

Low and in my ear. “We've food and beds. The Healers put Tle and Jacqui to sleep for the night. You could have told the M'hiray the world was ending and they'd have smiled.”

“Is it? Ending.” When he didn't answer right away, I twisted to face him. “Morgan.”

“Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

Jason.

He traced my jaw with a finger, then sighed. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe' the world's ending?” I went to sit up.

He wouldn't let me. “You heard Thought Traveler. ‘The world will end in fire.' Some Tikitik believe the Makers will destroy Cersi if the Balance ends.”

I had a bad feeling Morgan no longer considered the Tikitik beliefs superstition. “You think there's an installation on the moon. Moons,” I corrected, feeling numb.

“Nothing we can do about it if there is,” he said pragmatically. “But something stopped the Oud in midair. My best guess? An automated system, like this ship. Or from this ship and others like it. A perimeter field, cued to specific life-forms, would do it.”

“This starship.” I'd told the M'hiray. Other than the scientists among them, they'd been more impressed by, as Morgan noted, food and beds. “We came here in starships. First.” I removed any distance between our bodies, pressed my face against his chest. We'd had a starship.

“Or at the same time.” His voice rumbled through my cheek. “About that—”

I sighed, guessing I wasn't going to want to sleep after what Morgan had to tell me. “What about ‘that'?”

“Do me a favor. Change the word ‘Balance' to ‘Parameters.'”

“All right.”

“Now ‘Clan' to ‘Test Group.'”

That sinking feeling was becoming familiar. I tensed, waiting for it.

“Last, but not least, ‘Cersi' to ‘Experiment.'”

Not going to sleep, at all. Ever. “If Cersi is some grand experiment,” I mumbled into Morgan's chest. “Was Thought Traveler right? Do you know its purpose?”

“I believe it was to produce you, Om'ray with the ability to manipulate the M'hir.”

“Us?” It made a terrible kind of sense.

I wasn't a mistake?
Aryl, more hesitant than I'd ever heard her.
What I did, what we did, wasn't wrong?

That, I thought to myself, depended on the consequences. As for her
listening,
I'd have roused too, hearing the world was ending.

“Experiments come to a conclusion.” I closed my eyes, pretending Morgan's arms made the universe safe and comprehensible. “The M'hiray are here now. Is that it? Is it—over?”

A shrug. “The neighbors seemed to think so.”

Okay, not safe and comprehensible after all. I pushed away, trying to see his face. “You don't. You think there's something else.”

“Thought Traveler said the Makers would restart the world if they saw failure. Does that mean a time limit? Unlikely. From what we've seen here, I'd say this experiment's gone on longer than ever intended. Those who started it are dust.

“Another measure of success then,” Morgan went on. “If it was the splitting off of the M'hiray, you'd think something would have changed here. Other than the Oud grabbing Human tech and getting ambitious, that doesn't appear to be the case.”

A trial awaits. A test.

I nodded. “I agree. But what sort of test?”

I didn't expect an answer; Morgan had one. “The Hoveny Concentrix.”

“Pardon?”

“This planet is full of Hoveny ruins and technology. The object
the Oud wanted you to activate responded to the M'hir. What if Hoveny technology did as well? What if Om'ray—the original Om'ray, the Oud's Old Ones, the Tikitik's Makers—knew that and set up this experiment to try and take advantage of it? To produce individuals capable of awakening the past.”

It was the Clan Council dictates about Choice taken to—I'd no words for where this had gone, nor did I care about the past. “Did they steal children?”

“Sira—”

“These ‘original' Om'ray had to start their breeding program somewhere. Criminals. Political prisoners.” The too-small rooms, all in a row.

Generation after generation. How many had been born on this world? How many had died?

And for what? Machines, buried in the ground.

I pushed aside my questions, stretched my awareness into the M'hir,
sensing
who slept, who stirred. Food they'd done on their own, and more. Tomorrow I'd thought to offer them hope, to celebrate the beginnings of a new Clan and future.

Which we'd do. After they heard the truth about the old.

Tomorrow.

Sira?
With
concern.

I tightened our link, shared my
resolve
. Then hugged my Chosen as tightly as I could.
You sleep. Learn the language.