Songs From the Stars (32 page)

"Why?" Harker demanded.

"Why what?" Sue groaned.

"Why would beings who didn't even know we existed when they sent out their broadcasts care what happened to us? Why would they go to all that trouble unless... unless..."

"Oh shit, Arnold, unless what?"

"Unless they wanted to control us, unless they want us to follow a scenario we can't even understand, unless they want to turn us into something... into something that isn't human any more..."

"Why in hell would they want to do that?"

Harker shrugged. He sighed. He threw up his hands. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe we re not capable of knowing. But I do know that they've gone to great effort to set up a terrible device, a thing that seems clearly designed to turn us into something not human if we're foolish enough to let it."

"All they're trying to do is teach us," Sue said. "Why do you insist on seeing something sinister in that?"

"Teach us?" Harker said shrilly. "If that's all they were after, then wouldn't sending us scientific data and plans and knowledge suffice? Why would they send us a device that captures the mind and fills it with themselves if they were just selfless teachers?"

"Great gods, Arnold, why does anyone write a book or paint a picture or sing a song?" Sue said. "To communicate. To make art. To speak soul to soul, spirit to spirit. To share... to share...

"To share what?"

"Oh shit!"

It seemed no use as far as Lou could see. This argument had ground round and round in the same circle of trapped logic interminably. Harker couldn't trust the songs from the stars because he couldn't listen with his spirit, and he couldn't listen with his spirit because he had no trust. How could such a vicious circle be broken? Wearily, and without much confidence, Lou decided to give it one more try.

"Look, Arnold," he said, "we're talking about beings who have survived for millions of years, right? With knowledge beyond our comprehension. Who have transcended the mistakes and shitheadedness that created our Smash. Masters of matter and energy, of space and time. Are you with me so far...?"

"As far beyond us as we are beyond crawling worms..." Harker muttered fearfully.

"Damn it, do you suppose that intelligent creatures could survive millions of years of their own history possessed of such enormous physical power and knowledge without being as advanced karmically as they are scientifically? A civilization of power-mad mindfuck artists and would-be conquerors would never last that long. Its very survival for millions of years is proof of its wisdom and goodness. Mere superior knowledge wouldn't be good enough—they have to have superior wisdom. Evil destroys itself sooner or later because evil is stupid in the long run. And we're talking about beings who have survived their own karma for millions of years."

"And they're trying to teach us that too," Sue said. "Don't you see? Unless we open our hearts to their wisdom the knowledge they're sending us would be like... like... like atomic power in the hands of sorcerers!"

Harker glared angrily at her, though his eyelids were drooping and he was fighting hard just to stay awake. "How naive you are!" he said. "You're really telling me that you're willing to take the good will of unknown creatures on trust. When you don't even trust the most advanced civilization of your own species!"

"Considering what you and your black scientist ancestors have done to our planet, I think that's not exactly unreasonable," Sue said dryly.

Harker fell silent. The argument seemed to have reached the final impasse. But now Clear Blue Lou thought he saw the root of Arnold Harker's fears. The Spacers, with their superior scientific knowledge, had long regarded Aquaria as an inferior civilization, to be guided and manipulated quite ruthlessly in the service of what they considered their own higher ends. Their arrogance had blinded them to the difference between knowledge and wisdom; possessing superior quantities of the former, they could not see their own lack of the latter. They were scientific geniuses but moral morons.

And now, confronted with beings far superior to himself, Harker was projecting his own cold intellect into the motivations of the older and more powerful civilizations of the stars. Now that the tables were turned on him, he feared that they were as ruthless and domineering toward "inferior intellects" as his own people had been toward Aquaria. Blind to the Great Way, he could not trust in the sweetness of any beings possessed of greater knowledge than himself. The very bad karma that was his disease prevented him from accepting the cure.

And something more... a still elusive something more...

The haunting silence continued for a long time. "Can we all get some sleep now?" Sue finally said. "It's been a long... er... day or whatever, and we've got a lot ahead of us tomorrow..."

Harker sighed. The poor bastard could hardly hold his head up. "I can't talk you out of it, can I?" he said weakly. "You're determined to sit in those chairs... and... and..."

"No, Arnold, you can't talk us out of it. But what about you? Won't you open your mind? Won't you open your heart and walk the Galactic Way with us?"

Harker glared back at her with what little energy he had left. "No alien creatures are going to get a chance to suck me into their scenarios," he said. "My mind may be closed, but at least it'll stay mine."

"Oh Arnold, for—"

Lou cut her short with a touch of his hand. "Please let's just get some sleep now," he said. There was a long awkward moment as the three of them stared uncertainly at each other.

"Don't worry about me," Harker said, breaking the tension. "I don't need anyone to hold my hand."

You poor bastard, Lou thought as they left him there alone with his dark thoughts. Everyone needs someone to hold their hand.

Sunshine Sue stripped off the last of her clothes and collapsed onto the bed of the sleeping chamber they had chosen at random, mightily glad to have a closed door finally between them and Arnold Harker's downbeat vibes.

"Phew!" she sighed as Lou flopped down next to her. "Do you realize that this is the first time we've been away from that man since... since..."

"Yeah," Lou said. "Do you think he'll be all right?"

"A better question might be do I care if he'll be all right," Sue said wearily. "Here we are, on the brink of the greatest moment in the history of our planet, and all he can do is try to freak us out with his paranoia."

Lou snuggled up to her, but she could sense a certain distance, a questioning in the tension of his body, a drawing back. "Don't you feel sorry for him?" he said.

"Yeah, okay, I feel sorry for him," Sue muttered. "I guess I can feel sorry for anyone lame enough to disgust me."

"Up here all alone, his whole life turned upside down, with no one to—"

"Hey, what is this, Lou?" Sue snapped. "He brought his bad karma on himself, didn't he? This was all his idea, he mindfucked us into it, and now he doesn't have the courage to face the end product of his own scenarios. That's supposed to be our fault?"

"That's it!" Lou said sharply.

"That's what? You're going to tell me it is our fault?"

"No," Lou said, "I think that's what's really getting to him on the deepest level. He's afraid of what letting superior beings play games with your perception of reality implies. Which is that maybe you're never going to have it all figured out in nice neat scenarios ever again. You'll be out of your own control, riding a destiny beyond your own complete comprehension, throwing yourself into the arms of unknown fate."

"That's supposed to be frightening?" Sue said. "It doesn't scare me. In fact, I kind of like the idea."

Lou relaxed against her. He kissed her briefly on the lips. "That's you and me, love," he said. "But Arnold Harker...? I can see how such a refreshing state of clarity must really threaten his ego."

Sue sighed. She rolled over onto him, kissed him on the lips, then peered down at him quizzically. "I've had enough of Arnold Harker for now, haven't you?" she said. "Here we are alone at last, and all you can do is worry about poor old Arnold. How about forgetting about being so damned Clear Blue for a while and concentrate on being a natural man?"

"I'm not in too much of a sporting mood right now," Lou said. "I'm really worried about his head. Here we are in each other's arms, and there he is, all alone with his fears, maybe thinking about how we're comforting each other right now, when he—"

"What do you want me to do, spend the night with poor old Arnold?" Sue said archly.

Lou grimaced up at her. "That Clear Blue I'm not," he said wryly.

"Well then, to hell with him, you're in bed with me," Sue said, sliding her face down his chest in a trail of nibbling kisses, "and I am in a sporting mood."

And to prove it, she eased his quiescent flesh into her demanding mouth and with a fierce determination that surprised even her, slowly but inevitably aroused the natural man.

But as Lou finally responded to her caresses as a natural man should and gave her the fleshly pleasure that she sought, the thought of Arnold alone in his cold bed insinuated itself into even this moment.

You son of a bitch! she thought. I won't let you do this to us! I'm not your keeper, brother. You're getting what you asked for. And by act of will, she made herself imagine the Spacer watching them sport together. And she put her head in a down-and-dirty space which made that fantasy turn her on.

Only later, as she was drifting off to sleep in the arms of her Clear Blue lover, did she allow herself to feel guilty about it. Ah, you're a better person than I am, Lou, she thought with her head against his chest.

But sometimes, she told herself, I wish you weren't so damned Clear Blue. And she hugged him protectively to her bosom.