The Disinherited (32 page)

"Wait a minute, Varien," DiFalco spoke up. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, then Tareil's displacement points not only don't work any more . . . they don't
exist
any more!"

"Not only Tareil's, I should think. I would imagine that the problem is more extensive than that, probably affecting this entire region of the spiral arm. Of course, this cannot be verified without . . ."

"But Varien," Rosen cut off the maddeningly calm voice, "as you yourself said, the stars are in
constant
motion, so their relative positions are constantly changing. So if your theory is correct, then why isn't the displacement network in a constant state of flux? We know it isn't. Granted, you Raehaniv have only been using it for a short time; but the Korvaasha have been expanding via displacement points for centuries! And I don't think there's any indication in the records we've captured that anything like this has ever happened to them." He glanced at Kuropatkin, who nodded in confirmation.

Varien pondered for a moment. "Remember, centuries or even millennia are mere eyeblinks of time on the cosmic scale. But I believe the real answer to your question lies in the sheer number of stars and the slowness of their motion relative to the distances between them. The pattern of which we're speaking is one of almost inconceivable vastness, and an enormous number of factors go into defining it. It must possess tremendous . . . inertia? Resiliency? Yes, that's it. A great deal of random stellar motion can take place without disrupting it. But eventually the cumulative effect of such motion exceeds the pattern's capacity to accomodate it. Then a disruption
does
occur, and it occurs
all at once
. Remember, gravity is propagated instantaneously. And, given the interrelatedness of the displacement points, any such disruption is likely to be widespread due to what I believe you Terrans call a 'domino effect.' "

"How widespread?" Miranni asked in a small voice.

"There is, of course, no way for us to know. Likewise, until we've been able to observe the phenomenon for a very long time we'll be unable to even guess how frequent such events are. Perhaps their occurrence is completely random. Or perhaps they run in epicycles—which, if true, might help to account for the fact that the Korvaasha have never experienced one; we could only now be entering into a period when the intervals between them are shorter."

Arduin spoke slowly, his engineer's practicality asserting itself. "Varien, this is all very interesting, but if I'm understanding you correctly, shouldn't there be a
new
pattern, based on the new interrelationship the stars have shifted into?"

"Indubitably!" Varien nodded vigorously. "And such a pattern should stabilize as instantaneously as the disruption of the old pattern. It should manifest itself at once. I propose that we survey this system exhaustively for new displacement points. Of course, we should not be too hopeful of locating any; only a minority of stars have these phenomena associated with then, so the odds are against us. But the fact that Tareil previously had
four
displacement points suggests that perhaps this star is located in a kind of crucial region—a nexus, as it were, resulting from an unknowable concatenation of factors. If this is the case, then perhaps . . ."

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Levinson took a breath and spoke into the startled silence he had created. "Excuse me for interrupting this fascinating bull session, but just where does all this leave
us
? How do we go about getting back to Earth?"

Varien had the embarrassed look of a man abruptly reminded of something he should have thought of but hadn't. "Ah. Well. That poses a problem. You may recall the discussion we had before departing from the Solar system, when we had learned that the Lirauva Chain was denied to us. Well, it is now denied to us with even greater finality. In point of fact, the Lirauva Chain no longer exists. I pointed out at that time that we could not even locate Tareil in realspace. Well, the same applies in reverse now; we have only the vaguest, most inferential notion of where Sol might be located."

"Hold on, Varien," DiFalco said, sternly commanding his voice to steadiness. "I know you only have general approximations of Sol's distance and bearing from here. But you've never tried to do better—you've never had to! Can't we use those approximations to narrow the search to a certain segment of the sky, and then narrow it down further by process of elimination? I mean, we know Sol's spectral class, and what bright stars are nearby . . ."

He trailed to a halt, silenced by what he saw in Varien's face: compassion without a trace of condescension or complacency.

"We can certainly try," the old Raehaniv spoke. "And we
will
try, as a partial interest payment on the debt we owe you. But I don't think you fully grasp how many stars that 'segment of the sky' contains. And remember, at our departure from Sol we destroyed every scrap of information, including and especially everything related to descriptive astronomy, that might have enabled the Korvaasha to find Sol had our enterprise failed. If we still had that information, the methods you suggest might well succeed, given time. But as it is, we simply lack the data to build on.

"And even if we
could
locate Sol," Varien went on with the same quiet finality, "how would you use the information? Our conclusions as to the impracticality of voyaging from Sol to Tareil under continuous-displacement drive apply with equal force to any attempt in the opposite direction."

"Hey, look," Levinson began, almost stammering, "there's
got
to be
something
we can do! Like . . . well, we know where Terranova is in the sky, damn it! We can go there via continuous-displacement drive, and . . ."

"And what?" Varien asked gently. "Oh, I suppose it's not absolutely impossible that Terranova's displacement point, and the Altair Chain beyond it, are still as we remember them. But it would be unwise to invest much hope in it."

DiFalco barely heard them. He had already passed beyond the denial that still held Levinson in its grip and was letting his consciousness adjust to a new fact, so enormous that it must henceforth form the backdrop to his entire life. He eventually grew aware that Aelanni was gripping his hand tightly.

In search of something to say, he looked around and noticed Rosen's faraway expression. "Yakov, we haven't heard anything from you lately."

Rosen turned to him with an ironic little smile. "Oh, I was just thinking of a conversation that is supposed to have occurred in the last century, between two very brilliant men. You may have heard the first half of it; it's one of Albert Einstein's most famous quotes. He said, as nearly as I can recall it, 'The good Lord is subtle, but He is never malicious.'"

DiFalco nodded. "Yes, I've read that."

"Ah, but you may not have heard Enrico Fermi's rejoinder: 'Albert, stop telling God what to do!' "

The orbital tower had been built before the days of artificial gravity and this geostationary terminal station had been designed to rotate, producing a forged gravity that equaled one Raehaniv gee at the outer edge. So in the older areas the stars seemed to march in an unending circle in the viewports. But this was a newer addition, and the firmament held steady in the lounge's wide-curving transparency. And in the center of the floor, a circular well surrounded by small tables sloped down to a lens-like transparency in which Raehan's night side, almost thirty thousand kilometers down, was like a black shield bejeweled with lights. The outlines of seas and oceans could be traced by the shining necklaces of coastal cities.

The tower, and its antipodal twin, had survived both occupation and war. The economic usefulness of virtually cost-free orbital interface had been as clear to the Korvaasha as to humans; and when they had withdrawn to their urban strongholds, the possibility of booby-trapping had deterred the liberating forces from using them. So the towers stood unharmed, and DiFalco was glad of it. He had been able to see an engineering feat far beyond the capabilities of Terran humanity, riding up with Aelanni in the kind of passenger module he had previously experienced by computer-generated proxy.

Now they had this lounge to themselves, waiting to catch a glimpse of the incoming ship before it docked and they went to greet their son.

It had made its way from Terranova to Seivra just before space had shifted shape. The captain, mindful of her precious cargo of children, had waited there with Golovko's fleet until the courier had arrived by continuous-displacement drive from Tareil. Afterwards, Golovko had made the decision to abandon Seivra, whose now-nonexistent displacement points had always been its only points of interest or significance. He had divided his forces, taking to Tareil those ships for which the long voyage was practicable. The others, mostly Terran ones carrying Americans and Russians (and, in some cases, their Raehaniv spouses), had returned to Terranova. Some of the children had gone back with the second group, but others had continued on with Golovko, and had now entered the Tareil system with his and were on their final approach.

Fortunately for both of them, the age of space had brought with it a return to a kind of patience that had passed away with the age of sail.

The thought of the children, and their parents, who by now were on Terranova reminded DiFalco of the infant colony. Aelanni had clearly been thinking of it too.

"Will they be all right on Terranova?" she wondered aloud.

"Sure they will," DiFalco stated positively. "They—we—have a solid foothold there by now. And they won't really be isolated, even though they're over a hundred light-years from here. We can keep in contact by means of the ships that have the powerplant modifications to make the trip, as more and more ships will. They'll be okay. And," he grinned, "once they have the time to spare for it, Terranovan politics should be lively." Aelanni laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. The noncombatants had been left there under the leadership of a council whose most prominent members were George Traylor and Liz Hadley.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Varien stood in the entrance, silhouetted against the light beyond. With a rustle of his long traditional cloak he stepped forward into the lounge's dimness and joined them.

"No," Aelanni told him. "We were just thinking about the colony on Terranova. The courier we sent there should be returning soon, so we'll know for certain how they're faring, and whether their system has any displacement points now."

"Yes—Terranova." Varien's voice trailed off into thoughtful silence. Then he straightened and spoke briskly. "I hadn't mentioned it, but soon after Jason arrives I intend to go forward with my plan to relocate there"

"What?" Aelanni looked at him sharply. "But father, you made that decision when Terranova was one displacement transition and ten light-years by continuous-displacement drive from here. Now it's . . ."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of the changed circumstances," Varien cut in just a bit testily. "Undeniably, Terranova is more isolated from the Tareil system than it was. But it is still accessible, albeit less conveniently. And all the arguments in favor of my decision still have as much validity as ever."

"Well," DiFalco spoke awkwardly, "as you know, we're staying here. There's a lot to do; we're still getting the search for Sol organized. Of course, for a while it will have to take a back seat to the work of rebuilding here on Raehan. But," he continued stoutly, "once we get a breather and can concentrate on it . . ."

"Of course." Varien nodded politely. "You can be sure I will be giving much thought to the problem." He paused, seeming to hesitate. "I knew the two of you would be staying here. But I have come to feel that I can leave with a certain degree of confidence. You see . . ." He hesitated again, then plunged in.

"As you both may be aware, I originally was not altogether in favor of your relationship. I had," he added quickly, turning to DiFalco, "always recognized that you were not without many excellent qualities, if perhaps a bit . . . ahem!" He pulled back and regrouped. "Nevertheless, I felt that you were perhaps not the best possible choice Aelanni could make. I was . . ." He tried unsuccessfully to continue, then took a deep breath and began again. "I was . . ." He seemed to be experiencing some obstruction of his ability to speak, and Aelanni began to look concerned. Varien visibly gathered himself for a supreme effort. "I was . . . wrong."

After a long, speechless moment, DiFalco grew aware that his mouth was hanging open. So was Aelanni's.
Always a first time for everything,
he reflected.
The Hell of it is, nobody will ever believe us. If only we had witnesses!

"At any rate," Varien went on, palpably relieved that it was over, "I have no hesitancy about retiring. I meant what I said before about a sense of completion—and I meant more than just the success of our joint enterprise. It is time for me to go, and I do so, content."

He turned and walked along the curved transparent wall. Then he stopped and turned to face them, and for an instant that DiFalco would remember to the end of his days he stood silhouetted against the star-blazing blackness, his features only dimly visible, gazing at the two of them—at them and into them and through them. Then he spoke a phrase he had picked up from Rosen.

"Bless you."

And Varien was gone.

After a time of silence, Aelanni sighed deeply.

"What do you suppose will happen now?"

DiFalco straightened. "We'll continue to do what we can. One good thing: we don't have to worry about defense against the Korvaasha, at least for the foreseeable future. The displacement connection between us and them has been severed. And," he continued grimly, "I don't think the universe will have to worry about their Unity any more. It was overextended even before this happened. Now its component parts are strictly on their own. The ones that can't figure out how to function in the absence of centralized control will die like all life forms that lose the ability to adapt. The ones that
do
adapt will change in the process. The Korvaash race will survive, but the Unity is dead."