From the Ocean from teh Stars (95 page)

astonishment and curiosity, as if he had encountered something so surprising that he could not be bothered to deal with Alvin's anxious query. "You're too late," he said. "It's already here."

The Galaxy had turned many times on its axis since consciousness first came to Vanamonde. He could recall little of those first aeons and the creatures who had tended him then—but he could remember still his desolation when they had gone and left him alone among the stars. Down the ages since, he had wandered from sun to sun, slowly evolving and increasing his powers. Once he had dreamed of finding again those who had attended his birth, and though the dream had faded now, it had never wholly died.

On countless worlds he had found the wreckage that life had left behind, but intelligence he had discovered only once—and from the Black Sun he had fled in terror. Yet the Universe was very large, and the search had scarcely begun.

Far away though it was in space and time, the great burst of power from the heart of the Galaxy beckoned to Vanamonde across the light-years. It was utterly unlike the radiation of the stars, and it had appeared in his field of consciousness as suddenly as a meteor trail across a cloudless sky. He moved through space and time toward it, to the latest moment of its existence, sloughing from him in the way he knew the dead, unchanging pattern of the past.

The long metal shape, with its infinite complexities of structure, he could not understand, for it was as strange to him as almost all the things of the physical world. Around it still clung the aura of power that had drawn him across the Universe, but that was of no interest to him now. Carefully, with the delicate nervousness of a wild beast half poised for flight, he reached out toward the two minds he had discovered.

And then he knew that his long search was ended.

Alvin grasped Hilvar by the shoulders and shook him violently, trying to drag him back to a greater awareness of reality.

"Tell me what's happening!" he begged. "What do you want me to do?"

The remote, abstracted look slowly faded from Hilvar's eyes.

"I still don't understand," he said, "but there's no need to be frightened—I'm sure of that. Whatever it is, it won't harm us. It seems simply —interested."

Alvin was about to reply when he was suddenly overwhelmed by a

sensation unlike any he had ever known before. A warm, tingling glow
seemed to spread through his body; it lasted only a few seconds, but when
it was gone he was no longer merely Alvin. Something was sharing his
brain, overlapping it as one circle may partly cover another. He was
conscious, also, of Hilvar's mind close at hand, equally entangled in
whatever creature had descended upon them. The sensation was strange rather than unpleasant, and it gave Alvin his first glimpse of true telep
athy—the power which in his people had so degenerated that it could
now be used only to control machines.

Alvin had rebelled at once when Seranis had tried to dominate his
mind, but he did not struggle against this intrusion. It would have been
useless, and he knew that this creature, whatever it might be, was not
unfriendly. He let himself relax, accepting without resistance the fact that an infinitely greater intelligence than his own was exploring his
mind. But in that belief, he was not wholly right.

One of these minds, Vanamonde saw at once, was more sympathetic
and accessible than the other. He could tell that both were filled with wonder at his presence, and that surprised him greatly. It was hard to
believe that they could have forgotten; forgetfulness, like mortality, was
beyond the comprehension of Vanamonde.

Communication was very difficult; many of the thought-images in
their minds were so strange that he could hardly recognize them. He
was puzzled and a little frightened by the recurrent fear pattern of the
Invaders; it reminded him of his own emotions when the Black Sun first
came into his field of knowledge.

But they knew nothing of the Black Sun, and now their own ques
tions were beginning to form in his mind.

"What are you?"

He gave the only reply he could.

"I am Vanamonde."

There came a pause (how long the pattern of their thoughts took to
form!) and then the question was repeated. They had not understood;
that was strange, for surely their kind had given him his name for it to be
among the memories of his birth. Those memories were very few, and
they began strangely at a single point in time, but they were crystal clear.

Again their tiny thoughts struggled up into his consciousness.

"Where are the people who built the Seven Suns? What happened to
them?"

He did not know; they could scarcely believe him, and their disap
pointment came sharp and clear across the abyss separating their minds

from his. But they were patient and he was glad to help them, for their
quest was the same as his and they gave him the first companionship he had ever known.

As long as he lived, Alvin did not believe he would ever again
undergo so strange an experience as this soundless conversation. It was
hard to believe that he could be little more than a spectator, for he did
not care to admit, even to himself, that Hilvar's mind was in some ways
so much more capable than his own. He could only wait and wonder,
half dazed by the torrent of thought just beyond the limits of his under
standing.

Presently Hilvar, rather pale and strained, broke off the contact and
turned to his friend.

"Alvin," he said, his voice very tired. "There's something strange
here. I don't understand it at all."

The news did a little to restore Alvin's self-esteem, and his face must
have shown his feelings for Hilvar gave a sudden, sympathetic smile.

"I can't discover what this—Vanamonde—is," he continued. "It's a
creature of tremendous knowledge, but it seems to have very little intel
ligence. Of course," he added, "its mind may be of such a different order
that we can't understand it—yet somehow I don't beheve that is the right explanation."

"Well, what
have
you learned?" asked Alvin with some impatience.
"Does it know anything about the Seven Suns?"

Hilvar's mind still seemed very far away.

"They were built by many races, including our own," he said ab
sently. "It can give me facts like that, but it doesn't seem to understand
their meaning. I beheve it's conscious of the past, without being able to
interpret it. Everything that's ever happened seems jumbled together in
its mind."

He paused thoughtfully for a moment; then his face lightened.

"There's only one thing to do; somehow or other, we must get Van
amonde to Earth so that our philosophers can study him."

"Would that be safe?" asked Alvin.

"Yes," answered Hilvar, thinking how uncharacteristic his friend's remark was. "Vanamonde is friendly. More than that, in fact, he seems
almost affectionate."

And quite suddenly the thought that all the while had been hovering
at the edge of Alvin's consciousness came clearly into view. He remem
bered Krif and all the small animals that were constantly escaping, to
the annoyance or alarm of Hilvar's friends. And he recalled—how long

ago that seemed!—the zoological purpose behind their expedition to Shal-
mirane.

Hilvar had found a new pet.

☆
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

How completely unthinkable, Jeserac mused, this conference would have seemed only a few short days ago. The six visitors
from Lys sat facing the Council, along a table placed across the open
end of the horseshoe. It was ironic to remember that not long ago Alvin
had stood at that same spot and heard the Council rule that Diaspar
must be closed again from the world. Now the world had broken in upon
it with a vengeance—and not only the world, but the Universe.

The Council itself had already changed. No less than five of its mem
bers were missing. They had been unable to face the responsibilities and problems now confronting them, and had followed the path that Khedron
had already taken. It was, thought Jeserac, proof that Diaspar had failed
if so many of its citizens were unable to face their first real challenge in
millions of years. Many thousands of them had already fled into the brief
oblivion of the Memory Banks, hoping that when they awoke the crisis
would be past and Diaspar would be its familiar self again. They would
be disappointed.

Jeserac had been co-opted to fill one of the vacant places on the
Council. Though he was under something of a cloud, owing to his position
as Alvin's tutor, his presence was so obviously essential that no one had
suggested excluding him. He sat at one end of the horseshoe-shaped
table—a position which gave him several advantages. Not only could he
study the profiles of the visitors, but he could also see the faces of his
fellow Councilors—and their expressions were sufficiently instructive.

There was no doubt that Alvin had been right, and the Council was
slowly realizing the unpalatable truth. The delegates from Lys could think
far more swiftly than the finest minds in Diaspar. Nor was that their
only advantage, for they also showed an extraordinary degree of co
ordination which Jeserac guessed must be due to their telepathic powers. He wondered if they were reading the Councilors' thoughts, but decided
that they would not have broken the solemn assurance without which this
meeting would have been impossible.

Jeserac did not think that much progress had been made; for that
matter, he did not see how it could have been made. The Council, which

had barely accepted the existence of Lys, still seemed incapable of realizing what had happened. But it was clearly frightened—and so, he guessed, were the visitors, though they managed to conceal the fact better.

Jeserac himself was not as terrified as he had expected; his fears were still there, but he had faced them at last. Something of Alvin's own recklessness—or was it courage?—had begun to change his outlook and give him new horizons. He did not believe he would ever be able to set foot beyond the walls of Diaspar, but now he understood the impulse that had driven Alvin to do so.

The President's question caught him unawares, but he recovered himself quickly.

"I think," he said, "that it was sheer chance that this situation never arose before. We know that there were fourteen earlier Uniques, and there must have been some definite plan behind their creation. That plan, I believe, was to insure that Lys and Diaspar would not remain apart forever. Alvin has seen to that, but he has also done something which I do not imagine was ever in the original scheme. Could the Central Computer confirm that?"

The impersonal voice replied at once.

"The Councilor knows that I cannot comment on the instructions given to me by my designers."

Jeserac accepted the mild reproof.

"Whatever the cause, we cannot dispute the facts. Alvin has gone out into space. When he returns, you may prevent him leaving again— though I doubt if you will succeed, for he may have learned a great deal by then. And if what you fear has happened, there is nothing any of us can do about it. Earth is utterly helpless—as she has been for millions of centuries."

Jeserac paused and glanced along the tables. His words had pleased no one, nor had he expected them to do so.

"Yet I don't see why we should be alarmed. Earth is in no greater danger now than she has always been. Why should two men in a single small ship bring the wrath of the Invaders down upon us again? If we'll be honest with ourselves, we must admit that the Invaders could have destroyed our world ages ago."

There was a disapproving silence. This was heresy—and once Jeserac himself would have condemned it as such.

The President interrupted, frowning heavily.

"Is there not a legend that the Invaders spared Earth itself only on condition that Man never went into space again? And have we not now broken those conditions?"