Shipstar (12 page)

From this fresh female’s Revealing she would, through the difficult next Annuals, acquire the long views of a She, yet retain the robust memories of prancing, exploring thrill that had marked her vivid He era. Memor could not help joining in with her deep soprano the rising fulsome joy-song, full of deep welcoming tones, and from above, the high, tenor resonances—all celebrating the conferred judgment and sympathy-from-experience that the Revealing summoned forth. This new She would in time, and with much further study of the essential astrophysics and the Vast History, join the Order of Astronomers. From this essential balance—more a sure dance, truly—between the He and She, wisdom could and thus would come.

Striding forward, clumping with big solemn feet, Memor took note of this new Her-name: Zetasa. In time this new She could, and so might, bring a new, vital stabilizing element to their colloquy—a wise method evolved by the Folk over many, many twelve-millennia in the truly ancient past. This was the essential, time-honored, and stabilizing truth. She relished it.

“Memor!” came Asenath’s solemn, deep bass voice. “We have not greeted in longtimes, I do say.”

Untrue, but perhaps useful. “I greet in tribute, and wish to confer on present problems,” Memor said in long sliding tones, with a penumbral, light-yellow feather display. This drew an attendant twitter of speculation. As tradition demanded, Memor ignored the light trilling soprano chorus of conjecture.

“Which have multiplied, I gather.”

“I captured one of the primates and am learning much from her,” Memor said. “As we speak, skyfish descend upon the Sil lands, to either capture the primates remaining on the Bowl, or else kill them.”

“Ah! As Governors, we must attend to the dismay of the Bowlcrafters, who do not relish such punishments.” Asenath made a flutter-rush of red and gold to signal concern, but Memor thought it was only a pretense. Something else was in play.

“Please lead me,” Memor said to place the conversation in the right ranking order. Asenath had to take the lead.

“You showed us results of your neural net and brain interrogations of these primates, I recall. Eukaryotic multicellular bilaterians, they are, with unexposed Underminds—fascinating, I am sure. You then estimated their capacities as well below we Folk, and perhaps somewhat above others of the Adopted. Yet they continue to elude us, and now half of them have
fled the Bowl
.”

The attendant minor figures drew in their collective breath at this.
To escape!
was their clear, unspoken message. Memor made a half turn to block most of them from Asenath’s piercing gaze. She was saying, “Now they have returned to their plasma scoop starship. Do you
still
feel they can be integrated into our Way?”

Making a ritual humble-flush, Memor said, “Apologies most firm indeed, for my failure to retain or recapture these strange primates. I believe their curious gait—a continual, controlled toppling upon those hind feet that have thick, artificial coverings—must be a key clue to their ability to improvise. They can hop to new ideas far more readily than we anticipated. Their ability to form a quick bond-alliance with the Sil is an example—another two-footed species, I remark, which perhaps helps explains their rebellion. The primates arrived on train transport, and immediately engaged with the Sil in a battle against our skyfish. How this came about with such speed is a puzzle. Perhaps there is a species-signal here that may explain it in part.”

“I would think their two-legged forms were adaptive on a more aggressive and quick-fighting world.”

“So … you would urge extermination.”

Asenath saw she had been maneuvered into a hasty conclusion, always a mistake. “Perhaps not immediately. Their ship has interesting features of magnetic control I and others feel would be useful to examine.”

“Ah, wise. Perhaps a consultation, then?” Memor motioned Asenath into a speaking cloister. She took the feather-flush hint. They made it seem they were merely strolling as they spoke. Memor dropped the shimmering, electric-blue sonic cloak behind them once in the narrow confines, where luminous walls gave a warm green glow.

“I did not want to refer to our continuing trouble with the jet flare guidance,” Memor said.

“You venture that primates could help somehow?” Asenath’s neck fringe fluttered with skepticism.

“They are inventive—”

“Surely you do not imagine that we could allow them to touch what is most sacred and vital to the Bowl!”

“I was trying to—”

“The very idea would be transparent heresy to some of the Folk.” A slow, studied gaze, no feather signals at all. “Perhaps … including me.”

There was surely danger here. Asenath’s feather tones shifted from bright attentive colors of rose-purple and olive into hues tending toward pewters and subdued solemn blues. They rustled, too, with an air of menace. Betrayal by Asenath could take several avenues, all hard for Memor to counter. So—admit failure, and do so quickly and first.

“I mention that possibility only because my own narrow escape—when they and the Sil attacked my starfish—was essential. I had learned that the primates could quickly use the chemically driven Sil weaponry. Our assault teams needed to hear that. The primates are swift, original, unpredictable. I wished to report this firsthand—”

“Your death at their hands would have carried the same message,” Asenath said dryly.

Without hesitation at this sally, Memor said, “I brought recordings, Wisdom Chief, to analyze—”

“Which show that these Late Invaders are erratic, impulsive, volatile, capricious—yes, all qualities we Folk have suppressed, in order to preserve the Bowl of Heaven. Yet these very same Late Invaders you now propose to
use,
to harvest, to—”

“No, no! I think they could show us new technologies, aid us—and perhaps bring word of a world we do not know, have never visited.”

“And then?”

“Of course, if they cannot be Adopted into our society, then they and their odd ship must be erased.”

Asenath gave a subtle fan-salute, undercut with a skeptical throat-wash of dubious red. “I must say, Attendant Astute Astronomer, that you maneuver well here in chambers, though alas, not on the battlefield.”

“I was not commanding the skyfish!”

“I hear otherwise.…”

Too late, Memor recalled giving orders to the skyfish Captain. She had been unnerved while the simple Sil artillery hammered loud and strong at the great beast’s walls. There was some panic then, before the hydrogen vaults were breached. Only her own quick commands had gotten her into her pod. Her parting sally to the doomed Captain had been,
Soon we shall have no further disputes. I will have my pod now.
The Captain had of course not appreciated the ironic tone. Memor had not looked back as she quickly departed. The Captain had gone to his proper reward.

Memor had been a bare short distance from the lumbering gray-skinned beast when a Sil shot struck a girder-bone and ricocheted into a hydrogen vault, then through the outer wall. Surely that had been a lucky shot, which Memor witnessed at a distressingly close distance. The hard slam of the exploding hydrogen had very nearly thrown her fleeing pod into a fatal yaw and tumble. She had shuddered as the skyfish bellowed a long, hoarse cry, realizing its imminent death.

Memor sensed she had been silent too long, reflecting on the sudden memory welling up. Her Undermind had not processed those harrowing moments then. But now was not the time to dally over the past. “I made a few suggestions to the Captain, all in the heat of the moment.”

“It became even more heated as you escaped,” Asenath said with brittle brevity, eyes narrowed.

“Had I not, you would know little of the engagement.”

“You are aware that you are already in disfavor?”

“I know that my efforts have not been widely recognized. These primates are difficult to reason with, for their mental structures suffer primitive modes we have not dealt with for a great while.”

“At least you recaptured one of those who escaped in the original party. Yet the others now divide into two groups: those ones we have never captured, somewhere among the Sil, and as well a party of four, who escaped the Bowl entirely, and now return to their ship. This last is most infuriating. Their ship somehow glides just below the firing field of view of our gamma ray lasers on the Rim.”

“Yes, most regrettable.” Memor made an apologetic display of amber and blue gray, rippling her feathers to convey remorse. “I did note that our defenses are deliberately unable to be aimed downward at our Bowl, and this decision was made by Elders long ago, after the Maxer Rebellion.”

“Your history is correct. Alas, the Maxer Movement is not completely extinguished, and I fear this flaw in our defenses can be laid at their door.”

“I did not know!” Memor did not have to pretend; this was indeed bad news, a defense flaw coming at the worst time, with Late Invaders at large.

“It is not your matter, Memor. Concentrate upon the Late Invaders.”

“You mean, capture and kill?” That would be easiest, and would get Memor out of the spotlight. Though she would regret their loss, for they were intriguing in their odd mysteries.

“No! I felt that way before, but there are now new issues. To understand, and keep these discussions secure, we must visit the Vaults.”

Memor felt a tremor of unease ripple up from her Undermind. Grave matters came to those who had to consult the Vaults. “But why?”

“That you must ask Unajiuhanah, Keeper of the Vault Library.”

The idea itself was puzzling, and filled Memor with dread.

FOURTEEN

About Unajiuhanah there was a timeworn joke, that she loved to sing the ancient songs at public events, even at funerals. Asked if she had performed at a recent high burial, Unajiuhanah answered no, and the riposte was, “Then it was a merciful death indeed.”

“Compliments to you, Asenath,” Unajiuhanah began with a ritual rippling feather salute in gray and violet. This achieved the feat of representing the Great Seal of the Vaults in an actual fluttering picture, a striking image on Unajiuhanah’s high fan display. Memor could even see a jittering vague white patch that stood for the formal writing of ancient times, indecipherable now but signifying the weight of vast history. It shimmered like a mute reminder of the long purpose of the Bowl and thus of the Vault.

Asenath introduced Memor, which proved unnecessary as Unajiuhanah brushed aside a summary of Memor’s life details and turned to address her directly.

“Memor, I will entertain your notions because I knew your great ancestors and feel I owe them some indulgence. Indeed, I live because a certain fine SheFolk many generations ago stood and fought against an insurrection that very nearly toppled all order in this Vault. That ForeFolk stands before me now, represented by a minute genetic fraction—in you, Memor.”

“I am most grateful,” Memor said with a simple mild flourish of ruby, embarrassed neck-fringe.

“Now I have a surprise of sorts for you, to bring you into our deliberations. Here is your other self.”

Unajiuhanah paused, her voice rising to call, “Bemor, come forth.”

“Be More” Memor heard, the very name plunging her backwards into her young days—while her eyes fixed on the big, somewhat ungainly senior male that was … she saw, breathing hard … herself. At least, genetically.
Bemor! Lost brother!
They had been separated long before Memor went through the Revealing. Now with “Bemor” she heard again the joke between the two of them. It had been funny then while young but had turned sour many twelve-cubed Annuals ago …
Be More
. More than Memor. Be smarter, swifter, know more, exert power, fathom more deeply, stand taller, command power.
Be More
.

“Brother!” Memor called, for Bemor had not suffered the Revealing’s agonies and transformations—all done in their youth, by high design. Be more … be male.

“I thought this meeting should best come as a surprise, or else one or the other or even both of you would surely dodge it.” Unajiuhanah gave a mirthful display, fluttering ruby breast-feathers discreetly. Clearly she was enjoying this.

“Your great turbine of a mind reports you well,” Bemor said as overture. “I’ve sensed your reports. Quite complex and deep.”

“Sensed?” Memor realized her own whole-mind scans, carried out routinely to monitor performance, were not private. Usually they were, but of course not in matters of high security.

“They are also quite entertaining,” Bemor said. “You remember well, and your Undermind is a source of insight. The facts you confronted alone are high drama. I could scarcely imagine such odd aliens as these Late Invaders. What zest!”

“You mean, how did I let them escape?”

“No, I mean they have a crafty nature we could use.”

Memor was sure
Your great turbine of a mind
was an ironic salute, but best not to draw Unajiuhanah’s attention to it. “If we can Adopt them, perhaps—”

“I think not. Too unstable, as species go. They can be better used to carry out our larger cruising agenda.”

This was new, beyond the time-honored precepts of the Astronomers, and indeed, of all other castes.
Larger cruising agenda?
Memor should be shocked, she knew, but had no time for that now. “I acted to constrain their actions, under Asenath’s direction.”

Bemor waved this aside with a cluster-flourish in green and sea blue. “Those orders now vanish. There is new wisdom, falling upon us from the stars.”

Memor contented herself with a fan-feather gesture and let Asenath carry the conversation. She was still staggering mentally from the sudden meeting of her near-self: the path not taken, if somehow she could have stayed a male. Bemor had a quick, brusque way of saying things that swept away the niceties of diplomacy and polite evasion. Quite male. Best to change direction.

“I was discussing how I was forced to carry forward the reconnaissance of the Sil, who had sheltered the primates. They proved better at bringing down our skyfish with their simple chemical cannon, admittedly. I—”