La Trascendencia Dorada (70 page)

“I don’t know. The planets would be too far from each other to be subject to central imperial control, nor would they be able to aid each other with mutually beneficial resources. The distances are simply too great. However, a society organized by Sophotechs, or even by immortal men with a fixed tenacity of purpose, could establish such colonies in order to fulfill some plan requiring thousands or millions of years to accomplish.”

Daphne tried to imagine an undertaking on such a vast scale. “What purpose…?” “I do not know. But, assume it is one which is consistent with their desire to remain hidden. Why? Because they fear competition with us? But how can anyone in their right mind fear the Golden Oecumene? We are the most tolerant and fair-minded of all possible civilizations.”

Daphne said, “In your view of the future, the one you were going to offer the Transcendence…?”

“Go on.”

“How long would it be before the Golden Oecumene would expand beyond the Solar System?”

“Not until primary sources of energy in the sun were exhausted. What would be the need?”

“So, perhaps five or ten billion years…? Extrapolate the growth of the Silent Oecumene in the surrounding stars by that time.”

Light-signs appeared on all the surrounding stars. There were no worthwhile stars left free in any area surrounding Sol; the Solar System was surrounded.

Daphne said, “Now, would anyone in the Golden Oecumene take a planet, or trespass on another’s property, or take anything at all, just because they needed it, no matter how badly they needed it, without the consent of the owner?”

“We are not barbarians.”

“So we’ll be trapped with nowhere to go, held back by our principles, confined to a system with a dying star. And all because we did not have the foresight to do as Phaethon wishes.”

Helion said, “Phaethon’s wishes are what triggered the conflict. If the plan of the Silent Oecumene required them to stay hidden for millions or billions of years, until they could achieve a supremacy throughout all of nearby space, why risk it all, why risk generations of planning, just to strike down Phaethon? Here is why.” He pointed once again to the sphere of light centered on Cygnus X-l. “This defines the greatest extent to which the Silent Oecumene could expand as of now. Here marks were they could be in five millennia, ten, fifty. This outermost globe embraces all the useful planet-bearing stars within about five thousand light-years. And here is where Phaethon, with the Phoenix Exultant, could plant colonies in fifty millennia…”

A wide zone of gold-colored light spread out from Sol and kept spreading, reached past the outermost limit of the other sphere and kept reaching. “Here he is in one hundred millennia…”

The sphere of gold now reached beyond the edge of the projection and seemed to fill the night.

Helion said, “And I cannot show where Phaethon will be in five hundred millennia without reducing the scale of the model. It would be a major segment of this arm of the galaxy. Do you see why they came forward to stop him? Because once he was gone from this system, no other ship could ever catch him, no one could overtake him. Not in that ship.”

“You are assuming they could not build a ship like the Phoenix Exultant?‘

“I suspect their technological level to be less than ours. If they equaled us, why would they hide? And secrecy maintained so diligently across a reach of centuries bespeaks a strong central government, which implies diminished personal liberty, therefore lack of innovation, therefore stagnation. I don’t care how smart their Sophotechs might be; even Sophotechs cannot change the laws of physics or the laws of economics, politics, and liberty. I think they have no ship like the Phoenix Exultant. I think they have no men like Phaethon. I do not know what motivates the Silent Ones, or who or what they are. I do not know how long they have been among us, watching us, perhaps influencing us in subtle ways. The only thing I do know, based on what has provoked them to stir from their hiding, is that they fear Phaethon.”

He waved his hand at the illusion of stars around him. “He can make all their dreams of empire go away.” He closed his fist. The stars vanished. Normal light returned.

Daphne put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Well, if they hate him, they must love you! You and your Hortators were all set to stop Phaethon and kill off his dream. You made him mortal and threw him into the gutter to die. You did all the Silent Oecumene’s work for them! You!”

Helion said gravely, “Tragic circumstance forced our hands. We were seeking to preserve this, the best of civilizations the mind of man can conceive. And even then we offer Phaethon no harm; we merely refused to help him endanger our lives, and urged others not to help him either. Can we be blamed for that?”

Daphne’s eyes flashed. “Blame? It is not illegal to be a coward, if that is what you mean! Or a hypocrite. But I would not do everything the law allows, not things I thought were wrong; and you your whole life have said that people ought to avoid what’s wrong and ugly and base and inhuman, whether it’s legally allowed or not. You said it often enough. An easy thing to say. Hard to do.”

Helion’s brows drew together. “If I erred in respect to Phaethon, it was an error of fact, not an error of principle. A fact I did not know, nor did anyone in the Golden Oecumene know, was that the Silent Oecumene still somehow survived, and, apparently, has hostile designs upon us. Because of that lucky accident, Phaethon’s dangerous dream now does us more good than harm; but if the facts had been as I, before this moment, thought them, than that danger would have done us no good, nor would Phaethon have been right to expose us to it.”

Daphne said, “There is a lie at the bottom of everything you say. It is not war you fear, interstellar war: Phaethon never planned for that, and war is not inevitable, just because people are different. War was just an excuse. It’s freedom you fear. Lack of control. After uncounted centuries of hatred and violence, viciousness and powerlust, the Sophotechs finally led us to a society which people had never been honest enough, logical enough, to make for themselves. A society where no one, no one at all, can force anyone to do anything, except to stop the use of force. But that wasn’t good enough for you! You made your Silver-Gray and your past-looking, romantic movement in art and sociometry, and tried to talk everyone into living in the past. And that wasn’t enough for you, either. You and your friends, Orpheus and Vafnir and all that crew, decided to persuade where you could not force, but your goal was the same. You and your College of Hortators were going to use public opinion as a weapon, to bludgeon into the ground anyone who questioned the precious way of life you wanted to set up! Anyone who challenged it! Anyone who wanted to spread it to the stars! But you did not want the freedom you said you were protecting, not for Phaethon! Oh, no! Because there cannot be any pressure of public opinion among the worlds of distant suns; the news is too slow, space is too big. There can still be a government among the stars, if it is a government like ours—small, unobtrusive, utterly scrupulous, unable to do anything except defend the peace, unable to use force except to stop force. Because, with a government like that, wide distance and lack of communication simply do not matter. But what there cannot be among the stars are these things: a College of Hortators; a monopoly, like yours, on Solar Storm control; or a monopoly, as Orpheus has, on eternal life; Vafnir’s control over energy sources; Ao Aoen’s entertainment empire. And so on.”

Helion said mildly, “The danger of violence is still real, if we expand. Don’t the actions of the Silent Oecumene spies and agents among us prove that?”

“Our ability to survive violence expands also. Ever since the invention of the atomic bomb, humanity had the power to destroy a planet. But no one can destroy a whole night sky filled with living stars!”

Helion said, “What the Sophotechs gave us is not just a government of endless liberty but also, if I may add, endless libertines. They also gave us, for the first time, an ability to control the precise shape of our destiny, to predict the course of the future, and, if we use it wisely, the power to preserve our beautiful Golden Oecumene against all shocks and horrors. But control is the key. With Sophotechnic help, I can control the raging chaos of the sun himself, and turn all the mindless forces of nature to our work. What Phaethon dreamt may now be needed, but it is still wild and overly ambitious. The fault is mine. He is much like me—me as I would be without a proper caution and sobriety to restrict my acts to those which serve the social good. He is a spirit of reckless fire. That we may now need him, that outside threats now force us to reconcile with him, does not make his recklessness, his heedlessness, his insubordination, somehow turn out to have been virtues all along.”

Daphne crossed her arms, her eyes bright with mocking fury. “So that is going to be your apology for stealing Phaethon’s immortality and throwing him to the dogs? ‘Sorry, sonny boy, but we need you now, oh, and by the way, I was right all along’?!”

Helion’s face grew dark with sorrow. He bowed his head. But all he said was, “The point is now an academic one. Phaethon’s exile will no doubt be revoked, since the attack which prompted him to open his memory casket was, after all, quite real.”

Daphne’s angry voice snapped, “And you think that’s it?! No apologies, no regrets?”

Helion spoke softly as if speaking to himself, “Do I regret my part in these events? Certainly I regret the events; but, as for my part, I played it as honorably as I knew how.”

Then his voice grew louder. “And honor requires that I will not betray my oath to support the Hortators, even if Aurelian and Earthmind and all the world besides shuns me for so doing. Even if the Hortators are a weak and wicked instrument at times, and fall too harshly upon those who do not merit the punishment they give, yet, nonetheless, the Hortators are the only instrument we have for preserving decency, humanity, propriety, and wholesomeness of life. We would all be inside machines, drunk and mad on endless and perverted dreams, if it were not for them. Without them, there would be no control to this mad whirlwind we call life.”

Daphne blazed: “Oh, great! That’s an even better apology! ‘ ‘Tis not that I loved you less, O beloved Phaethon, but that I loved the Hortators more! (Sob!)’ Hah! Those Hortators are just bullies, and you know it! So what if what they do is private, and legal, and noncoercive? They’re the ones who are always saying that not everything which is legal is right! And I don’t care whether you call it coercion or not, they certainly did not try to reason with Phaethon; they tried to overawe and cow him. Well, their system doesn’t work too well on people who cannot be cowed! They were wrong, dead wrong. And so were you. Just wake up out of your moping, Helion, and just admit you were wrong.”

“An apology…? I would weep with joy to see my son again, for I still love him and he is still my son, but I will not stir once inch from the principles which fix my life in place. Son or no son, whether he is right or wrong does not depend on his ties of kinship with me.” He stirred and raised his head and sighed, then shrugged and said, “But, no matter! This argument is stale. The deed is done; the point is moot.”

Daphne’s voice rang out clear and cold, “No, Helion! It is you who have become moot, your opinion on these matters which is academic! Phaethon builds well; this situation in which you find yourself was constructed by him. His amnesia, his submission to the Hortators at Lakshmi: he was not driven to these things by grief. It was done by calculation, carefully, dispassionately, and he used himself with the same ruthless efficiency he uses on the inanimate forces and materials around him to achieve his well-engineered designs. He wanted time to find a way to bring the Phoenix Exultant out of receivership; he wanted to disarm his opposition.”

Helion said, “And where did his calculation go awry?”

Daphne laughed. “Nowhere! You will help and support Phaethon in his attempt, and pay his debts to free his ship, or you will step aside and watch as he takes your wealth, inherited by the legal ruling of the Court, and does it for you. Don’t you see yet? Phaethon would never cheat you. He would never use the law in this way except to take back what was already promised him.”

“Promised…?”

“By you. In the last hour of your last life. During the hour you forgot.”

“How can you know this?!”

Daphne smiled a winning smile: “Oh, come now! I know because he knows, and I have shared his memories, as is right with man and wife, during our voyage from Earth. He knows because you told him yourself. You told him the insight, the epiphany which made you laugh before you died, the secret of defeating chaos.”

Helion was silent, troubled. The fact that he had given his word to Phaethon, even if he had forgotten what he swore, was not a small thing to him. Helion was not like other men: for him, the thought that his word would not prove good was intolerable.

But he said, “I have already rejected that bargain. Not even to save my soul, or keep my name intact, will I turn my back on what I swore to the Hortators.”

“I will tell you anyway, because what you will or won’t do does not matter. Listen:

“You were burning in the middle of the worst solar storm our records can remember. Your deep probes had given you no advanced warning. In the complex and turbulent reactions seething at the center of the sun, you knew something outside the normal range of circumstances had occurred; some chance coincidence, constructive interference of two convection layers, perhaps, or a sudden cooling of large sections of the undermantle by a mere statistical freak, creating a layer inversion. Something the standard model did not and could not predict. Some tiny change, ever so tiny, leading to complex unpredictable results. In other words, chaos.

“Everyone else fled. All your companions and crew left you alone to wrestle with the storm.

“You did not blame them. In a moment of crystal insight, you realized that they were cowards beyond mere cowardice: their dependence on their immortality circuits had made it so that they could not even imagine risking their lives. They were all alike in this respect. They did not know they were not brave: they could not even think of dying as possible: how could they think of facing it, unflinching?