Empyrion II: The Siege of Dome (43 page)

The next morning, after
a long, luxurious swim, Yarden began feeling almost normal again. The day was bright, and as fresh as the breeze across the clear jade water. She ate a splendid breakfast with Ianni and some of her artist friends, then sauntered back down to the water's edge to take her place with the rest of the Fieri assembling there.

All along the strand, stretching both ways over the wide arc of the bay. Fieri settled themselves to await the coming of the talking fish. Ianni had told her that the best communication was achieved when one emptied oneself of all negative thought, all anxiety, and made oneself ready to receive the fish.

“Think only good things,” Ianni instructed her. “Invite them. Ask the fish to join you, to share the joy of life with you. They respond to pure thoughts.”

Yarden understood what Ianni was getting at and did not press for details. She wanted the mystery of the event to lend excitement to the wait, which Ianni warned could be several days.

Yarden dropped easily into her customary meditation pose, a modified lotus position: ankles crossed, arms resting easily on the inside of thighs, hands open, empty. She closed her eyes, emptying her mind of extraneous thought, centering herself in the moment, turning her sight inward.

The sound of waves gently lapping on the sand formed an aural background for her meditation. She pictured herself at peace, perfectly calm, a beautiful robe of glowing white, symbolizing joy, draped across her shoulders.

As she concentrated, she felt the peace she imagined flowing over her and through her, felt the calmness spreading out from the center of her being to the extremities, as if a stream of contentment ran over her, around her, through her. She drifted in its gentle waters ... drifted ... drifted ...

The
murmur of voices roused Yarden from her meditations. She opened her eyes slowly and saw her own long shadow stretching out across the sand to the water. She realized she must have fallen asleep, for she was not aware of the passage of time. It seemed she had just closed her eyes and now opened them, feeling refreshed and at peace.

She stretched languorously and looked around. Most of the Fieri remained in attitudes of meditation, but some were on their feet staring out into the bay while others talked softly among themselves. This was the murmur she had heard. She closed her eyes again, to savor once more the sweet, drifty drowsiness, but the image of the Fieri standing, looking out over the bay intrigued her. What were they staring at?

She opened her eyes. A second later she was on her feet, too. There far out on the horizon she saw them. The fish were coming in! Yarden could see the water shimmering and breaking as the school skimmed the surface, fins slicing the sparkling water.

The westering sun glittered on their backs as they surfaced and dove, swift as torpedoes, breaching and swerving, each graceful stroke multiplied by thousands. In the middle distance, Yarden could see their flashing sides dart through green-gold water. She looked down and saw that she, like all the others gathered on the shore, was striding through knee-deep surf, wading out to welcome the fish.

Yarden felt excitement ripple over her. There were shouts of joy all around her, and she added her voice to the merriment, her heart beating wildly. “Welcome!” she cried, picking up the chant from those around her. “We greet you in joy!”

The creatures slowed as they came closer, and the school separated, each fish proceeding alone to a waiting human, emitting squeaks and clicks of pure pleasure. The Fieri furthest out were met first, and the fish leaped in the water or swam circles around their human friends, who laughed and plunged after the playful animals.

Yarden laughed, too, to see the joyful play and then looked and was surprised to see one of the creatures regarding her, its head lifted out of the water, its large, clear eyes watching her with bright amusement.

The animal was much larger than Yarden had anticipated, and bore a passing resemblance to the pilot whale of Earth. It had the same smooth, streamlined shape and rubbery-looking skin. But it had no dolphinian snout and sported not one, but two large dorsal fins on its powerful back. Its forebody was large, with a swelling mound atop its head over two large, disturbingly human eyes the same color as the sea.

The creature was a beautiful deep sky blue at the tips of its great dorsi and along the spine ridge of its back. The color faded gradually, however, so that its underbelly was white—it looked as if the fish had been held upside down and dipped in blue ink. The male of the species, Yarden learned later, had two brilliant parallel yellow stripes running the length of its stomach from its lower mandible to its ventral slit.

Instinctively, Yarden held out her hands, murmuring soft sounds of welcome. The fish twitched its broad, fluked tail and slid closer. Yarden lowered herself in the water and floated toward it. Her hands reached for the gleaming skin and found it warm to the touch. Warm-blooded! The animal was mammalian. She caressed the beautiful skin and said, “You're no fish; you're almost human!”

With nimble movements the creature circled her body, brushing against her, bumping her playfully, exploring her with long, jointed front flippers. Yarden dove and swam with it, holding the forward dorsal fin like she'd seen divers do in pictures. The creature swam with easy strokes of its powerful tail, propelling both of them through the water. Yarden felt the tremendous life-force of the animal engulf her, and her heart soared. She felt like a child in the great, calming presence of a wise and gentle giant.

She regained her feet in the chest-deep water and the fish swam close, nuzzling her. She put her hand on the mound of its head, and stared into the very human eyes. It was a natural enough gesture, and although she knew the creatures communicated, she was unprepared for the result.

Instantly, a feeling of tremendous warmth and serenity inundated her. It was as if she had touched a live current and received a most unusual jolt. Yarden jerked back her hand, and the contact was broken.

She floated in the water and gazed at the creature wonderingly. Beneath that swelling mound of its forehead was a brain—a wonderful, intelligent, and extremely powerful brain. She reached out to the animal once more, using both hands this time and concentrating on sending a message—much as she would employ the sympathic touch—to the talking fish.

Her message was a simple greeting:
Hello, I am Yarden. I'm glad to meet you.
The words were secondary, however; the primary communication was in the emotional charge she delivered with them—welcome and acceptance.

Placing her hands on the smooth blue skin, Yarden sent her message and waited. All at once, as if rushing up through her fingertips, she felt a tingle of wonder and then excitement as the creature recognized what she had done. The excitement subsided almost as quickly as it had risen, but was replaced at once with a strange emotion, utterly alien to Yarden: a feeling of vast, boundless energy and equally expansive pleasure—an infinity of restless delight.

In a flash of understanding Yarden realized what she was sensing: the ocean! The ocean as seen through the fish's eyes. But there was more, too—a breezy, buoyant cheer combined with a sense of winsome audacity which Yarden did not understand at first.

Her puzzlement must have been communicated instantly, for the series of emotional impressions was repeated. Extraordinary! thought Yarden. It's very like the sympathic touch, only emotion-oriented rather than image-oriented.

The affect phrase was repeated yet again, and Yarden understood that the aquatic creature was giving her its name, its sense of self.

Yarden projected understanding, replaying, as far as she was able, the affect string she'd received, and was rewarded with a flourish of glee. That's what I'll call you, thought Yarden: Glee.

She concentrated for a moment, deciding how best to interpret herself for Glee, then sent an affect phrase that went: elation/hope/amity/wonder/zest and also, after a moment's hesitation, a touch of disquiet.

Glee played back understanding which was followed by a moment of fleeting uncertainty and the same disquiet—as much to say,
Why uneasy?
This was accompanied by a long, lingering, brushing stroke of a flipper against Yarden's side.

Yarden stared in disbelief. The animal was asking her about the source of restlessness in her soul. Would it understand? Indeed it seemed to be an extremely understanding creature. She gazed into the deep green eye closest to her and projected fear/anxiety/depression in roughly equal proportions.

Glee was silent, and Yarden thought she'd broken the delicate contact between herself and the animal by projecting a negative emotion. But Glee replied with an outpouring of sorrow and sympathy which took Yarden's breath away. It was pure empathy, powerful, undiluted by any sense of self.

Yarden, misty-eyed at the unexpected response she had received, gave back heartfelt gratitude and, in a spontaneous gesture, threw her arms around the beast and hugged, pressing her face against the warm, wet, pliant skin. Glee presented Yarden with a sensation of peace and acceptance such as Yarden had rarely felt in life.

Then, abruptly, Glee turned and swam away. The action was so sudden Yarden opened her eyes and glanced around for her friend. With more than a twinge of regret, Yarden watched the triangular blue dorsal fins racing away from her. Apparently the meeting was over.

Yarden treaded water for a moment, looking at the spot where she had last seen the fin before it disappeared beneath the easy swell. Then, feeling sand under her feet, she turned and started back to shore.

She had not gone far, however, when she heard a squeak behind her. She turned to see Glee streaking toward her, and counted three other sets of fins speeding in her wake. Yarden waited; the fish slowed as they approached. Glee nuzzled her and clicked something to the others, who came close and stroked her with their flippers.

Yarden sank down among them and caressed each one in turn, projecting welcome and acceptance. They surrounded her then, and pressed close. Glee nudged Yarden's hand and with a mewing squeak indicated that she wished Yarden to reestablish contact. Yarden placed her hand on the bulging cranial mound and received once more the affect phrase for inquiry.

Without additional prompting, Yarden understood that Glee wanted to tell the others what she'd shared with Glee. So Yarden sent the fear/anxiety/depression string while flippers continued to stroke and caress her.

The animals went still in the water, as if stunned. Then without any of them having moved a muscle, Yarden felt herself rising up out of the water. The sensation was so strong, it took a moment for Yarden to realize it was not physical; they were buoying her up emotionally. She felt as if she were riding the crests of a rolling sea as wave after wave of consolation and kindness washed over her. The tears rose up, overflowing the barriers of her eyelashes to spill down her cheeks as Yarden allowed herself to float on the ineffable charity of the wise creatures.

The emotional tide gradually subsided, and one of the newcomers rolled over on its back, showing Yarden the two parallel yellow stripes. He repeated the action twice, leading Yarden to name him Spinner. He put his head forward, and Yarden placed her hand on his cranial mound. The fish sent welcome and acceptance, and then empathy.
I understand.

The quality of Spinner's speech, while quite similar to Glee's, was different in some respects. There were nuances of secondary emotions interlacing the primary, making his communication feel more abstract. Before Yarden could respond to the initial string. Spinner sent a complicated string which had to be repeated twice before Yarden could make sense of it. Its main component was a feeling of vast darkness and brooding menace: danger and lurking disaster.

When Yarden responded with understanding, Spinner gave the affect phrase for inquiry, repeated the danger/disaster string and added Yarden's designation of herself. Again Yarden found herself staring at the remarkable animal. Spinner had not been anywhere near when Yarden had given her self-sense to Glee; yet Spinner knew it. Perhaps the constant interplay of flippers among the whales served to link the others to the conversation, creating a communication network.

Spinner repeated the string and waited while Yarden deciphered its meaning. He seemed to be asking whether Yarden felt the same sense of impending doom, and whether the awareness of its presence was what caused her depression.

She sent puzzlement/inquiry, and Spinner backed away; he slapped the water impatiently with his flukes. When he came up under her hand, Yarden received the sensation of threat with a virulence behind it that shocked her. The threat was powerful, all-consuming, ultimate in its expression. She pulled back her hand, and Spinner raised his head from the water to look her in the eye, as if willing her to understand.

Yarden placed her hand back on his head, and he sent the grim danger/disaster string once more, adding a soft note of hope at the end. This time, Yarden experienced a completely different reaction. The hope, however subdued, seemed to overshadow the danger/disaster motif and offer the suggestion that the menace was not certain. It was real and palpable, but not inevitable, or at least not indomitable.

Spinner gazed at Yarden with his intelligent green eyes, and slowly his meaning became clear. With a clarity that chilled her, Yarden understood what Spinner was trying to communicate to her: Dome.

Spinner's triple barrel roll in the water let her know she was right.

Dome was on the move. Treet's prophecy was coming true.

Treet lay inside a
piece of old fibersteel pipe, part of a smokestack, no doubt, now nearly buried behind a collapsed bank of permastone bricks which formed a slope down to the broad plain of the Isedon below. It was a good vantage point and safe; the fibersteel formed a turret around him and the permastone a bulwark.

Safe and sturdy it might be, but comfortable it wasn't. He had spent the night in the pipe, dozing fitfully, waking at intervals to listen and look out on the night-dark plain. Now, as dawn tinted the filthy scales of the Old Section's translucent roof a sickly yellow, there was still no sign of the invaders, and Treet had begun to think that perhaps the invasion had been canceled. The blasting had stopped hours ago, and there was no indication of movement around the ruined duct.