Vale of Stars (29 page)

“I get to name it, since I found it,” Viktur said. Khadre could hear his smile.

“Why don’t you stick to nicknames instead. I’ll catalog it officially.”

“Then no one will ever use that name again. All right, I hereby dub thee….” Viktur took a good look at the creature. Khadre did as well. The first impression she had was of an Earth dolphin (she had seen holos in the library texts) but there were many differences. The creature’s head was disproportionally bulbous and shaped like a slightly flattened sphere. Six tentacles drooped downward from its underside, but when the animal moved, they became flush with its body. The animal used a sculler for propulsion. As they watched, fascinated, the animal moved towards the sea cows. The bloated sea cows started moving, as a body, away from the dolphin-creature, which began darting here and there, retarding their progress in some directions and only allowing the cows to move as a unit.

“Khad, I think he’s herding them,” Viktur said.

“You’re right,” she answered. “Terrestrial fish and mammals do that too, but….”

“What?”

“It is a sign of sophistication. Intelligence.” Khadre said quietly. “How close are you?”

“Two hundred meters, give or take.”

“Bring us closer.”

Viktur adjusted the controls and Nimmo surged ahead, towards the retreating herd and its shepherd.

The animals were headed for a cliff face that resembled nothing more than a blank wall to Nimmo’s sensors. A momentary flicker on the screen caused Khadre to jump.

“What was that?

“I don’t know. Sudden power loss or surge, I guess. We’re okay,” Viktur said, eyes intent on the shepherd.

“What do you—my God!” Khadre said. A swarm of dolphin-creatures came out of the cliff wall, all emerging from the same spot. Nimmo’s sensors still reported the wall as solid, but dolphin-creatures were coming out of it as if it were not there. As the two human onlookers watched, the still-unnamed dolphin-creatures swam around the sea cows, encircling them. There were perhaps fifty dolphin-creatures surrounding the sea cows, which appeared quite docile.

“We’re within one hundred meters.” Viktur said. “Nimmo’s picking up interference from somewhere. On the VHF sonar band.”

“Lots of it?”

“Yeah.”

Khadre thought for a moment, trying to exhaust all other possibilities before arriving at the one she was hoping for. She was a determined scientist, but even so, she was also a human being and could not help prejudicing her views even slightly. “Could be the animals’ speech.”

“On VHF sonar?”

“Why not? How else are they going to talk? They can’t—” she broke off as she saw one of the dolphin-creatures separate itself from the pack. “Something’s up.”

“What’s wrong with that one?” Viktur said. “He’s got a growth or something on his head.”

Khadre looked closely. “A horn, maybe?” The projection was a thin rod that extended about a meter in front of the animal’s eyes. Nimmo’s sonar could not make out details at this range. “Closer.”

“If I get much closer, we’ll be visible,” Viktur said, but complied. Khadre did not answer immediately but let Nimmo close the distance a bit.

“Not at this depth, it’s too dark,” she finally said. “The only way they could spot us is with….” Before she finished, her eyes widened as a thought struck her. “Turn off the sonar! Now!”

“What?”

Khadre reached over him and slapped the kill switch on the drone’s sonar projector. The sensor image died.

“Khad, what’re you—”

“Go to infrared.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Viktur sighed and activated another set of controls. The screen lit up in a completely different configuration. It took Khadre a few seconds to recognize what she was seeing.

“This is next to useless at this depth. Too much cold, and the infrared gets confused by eddies and currents, anyway,” Viktur said.

“But if those animals use sonar to talk, they might have heard Nimmo’s.”

Viktur thought about it. “So now what?”

“Now we bring Nimmo back and head to shore.”

“What for?”

“We have to study the data. But if what I think happened happened, we won’t have any trouble getting the Family to fund more research.” Khadre could not contain her enthusiasm, but a small part of her felt fear. She had set out to discover and explore, but she had not been prepared for what she might find.

“Why, what do you think we saw? I saw a bunch of dolphin-things herding other fish around. So? You said yourself Terrestrial fish do that too.”

“But I also said it was a sign of intelligence.”

Viktur shrugged. “Rudimentary, maybe. Or maybe it’s just instinct.”

Khadre shook her head.

“Why not?”

“The kelp bed. And the dolphin’s horn.”

“What about them?”

“The kelp bed was not a natural phenomenon. It was crafted that way.”

“By whom?”

Khadre smiled, ignoring his question. “And that was not a horn. It was a weapon—a spear.”

Viktur looked at her quizzically.

“We just saw a farmer and his farm.”

When Yallia came down the next morning to the common area, she saw her truedaughter eyeing her with clear distaste over the phalanx of children who sat at the long breakfast table.

Yallia was in too good a mood to let Emme’s discomfort bother her. Yallia knew the reason for Emme’s anger: she was upset that her truemother had had intercourse with a man that had already fathered one of her children. Yallia knew the news would spread; almost everything a Family member did was public knowledge. Yallia herself had helped build such openness into the society as a direct reaction to the Dome’s privacy laws. Openness led to scrutiny, which led to honesty. Yallia did not believe in the inherent goodness of the human race or of individual humans. Only through constant vigilance could people be expected to act moral. Even she, herself.

“Good morning, Gramma,” Sirra said to her. The girl had stopped eating and was looking at her intently. The other children looked up from their plates, mouths sticky with food, and mumbled greetings.

“Hello, Sirra. Hello, everyone,” Yallia said.

“Did you and Lawson have another baby?”

Yallia knew the glances Emme and the other adults were shooting her way. “I don’t know yet.”

“Can you make it another girl?”

“I suppose I could. But this time, I thought I might have a boy. Remember, though, I might not be pregnant. It doesn’t happen every time, you know.”

“Like with Opima?”

Emme almost dropped the serving platter. Yallia heard a faint gasp.

“You’re not supposed to talk about her, dear.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not nice.”

“She doesn’t have any children,” Sirra announced. “Just truesons and truedaughters.”

“That’s right.” Yallia gestured to Sirra’s breakfast plate. “Finish your breakfast, dear.”

Sirra hopped back onto her chair and dug into the half-eaten meal. Yallia sighed, thankful that Sirra had not pressed the matter. Opima was one of very few Family members who did not wish to breed. Such was their legal right: Yallia refused to compel anyone on such a serious issue, but the community itself had demanded she procreate, and when Opima had refused, Yallia found the solution in cloning. It was not a perfect solution—Opima was not adding to the genetic diversity needed to keep Family viable—but it calmed the masses. That had been six years ago, and it had set the precedent that although an individual Family member had control of their own reproductive organs, their basic genetic structure belonged to the Family. It was a decision necessary to ensure the future of the community, but one which had privately troubled Yallia.

“Gramma?” Sirra said politely.

Yallia moved closer to her to hear over the clamor of the common room. “Yes?”

“Is Mister Lawson still here?”

“No, he left before you got up. Why?”

“No reason.” Sirra turned back to her plate.

Yallia started to inquire further, but stopped herself. If the matter became important, Sirra would bring it up again.

Yallia sat in the common area for a while longer, conversing halfheartedly with her grandchildren and truechildren. Emme stayed aloof, however. Whenever Yallia caught her eye, the young clone looked away in disgust.

“Madam Prime?” Franc Kahlman’s voice startled her. She turned to see him looking at her with a pinched expression that in the past had meant trouble. “We’ve had an…unusual development with a research skiff in the Bitter Sea.”

“What?” Yallia blinked. “What research skiff?”

Kahlman looked around the common area. “I think you should call a Session, Madam Prime.”

His formality did not worry her—Kahlman was always formal. But his unerring sense of protocol would have told him not to bother her at breakfast unless there was an emergency. She nodded and got up. “Alert the Originals. We’ll meet in fifteen minutes.”

Kahlman did not speak, but his expression indicated he was still not satisfied.

“What’s the matter?”

“Madame Prime, I think a Grand Session is called for.”

Yallia’s eyes widened. “Why, for Ship’s sake?”

“The research skiff has made a discovery that changes…everything.” Kahlman spoke softly, looking around the common area as he did so.

Yallia weighed her options. A Grand Session was reserved for important, Family-wide decisions or issues. The last time all the Originals had met was fifty days ago to discuss once again attacking the Enclave, and that had been a rather perfunctory, let’s-wait-and-see meeting. Yallia preferred action to the slow, pondering deliberation of the Grand Session.

But Kahlman was as level-headed as they came. On the few occasions she had gone against his advice, she had regretted her decisions. He was a good man.

“All right, Franc. Call an emergency Grand Session. We’ll meet in one hour.”

She stood to leave and caught Sirra’s eye as she did so. The little girl had a look of fear on her face that struck Yallia like a blow.

“It’s all right, dear,” Yallia said. “I’ll be back soon. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Even as she spoke, she realized that Sirra was not looking at her, but over her shoulder at Franc Kahlman. And she realized that the look on Sirra’s face was not one of fear, but of hatred.

Yallia hesitated, torn between trying to understand Sirra’s expression of loathing and the pressing matter Kahlman had brought to her. She stood at the breakfast table, the knuckles of her left hand resting gently on the table top, her body trembling with indecision.

Emme spoke suddenly. “Sirra, are you finished with breakfast?”

The comment seemed to break Sirra’s concentration, and she snapped her head towards her truemother. “Yes.”

“Then clean your plate, please.”

The girl obeyed, and as Yallia watched her at the sink, Kahlman mumbled, “Madame Prime?”

Yallia tore her eyes off of Sirra and left with Kahlman.

*   *   *

Khadre took a deep breath and glanced at Viktur. She had never addressed the Grand Session before—all one hundred and eight Originals assembled together for only the most important of issues. The thought that they were meeting to discuss the discovery she and Viktur had made was not one she could grasp fully.  “I wonder what she’ll be like,” Khadre said.

“Who?”

“The Prime Original.” Khadre stared into space. She herself was not related to Yallia in any genetic fashion, though Viktur, she knew, had a paternal fratern who could trace his lineage to Yallia. This in itself was by no means unusual, and Viktur had not met the woman with whom his father had had a son.

“We’re not here to bask in the glory of the sun that is the Prime Original, Khad,” Viktur chided. “We need—”

He was interrupted by the opening of the massive doors that led to the Originals’ Chamber. A grey-clad intern looked around and saw the two scientists. “You can come in now. The Session is ready.”

Khadre breathed deeply and started toward the door, Viktur content to fall in behind her. She passed through the archway to the chamber and was profoundly disappointed. The room was brightly lit, not dim and smoky as she had imagined it. The Originals did not wear robes of scarlet or gold, but wore the same common clothes all Family members did. Khadre’s dother had told her often enough that the Sessions were very informal, but until now, Khadre had always held out hope that her nonbirth mother had been hiding the truth. The conference area was a circular pit holding the hundred-plus Originals who were seated in sub-groups at round tables. The whole room had the air of a cocktail party rather than a governing council.

Just as Khadre’s disenchantment had reached a point of near-disgust, she saw a new figure enter the room from a distant door. Instantly, the babble in the room ceased and Khadre knew without doubt who the new person was. Even if she had not recognized her from various holos and news reports, the air with which she commanded the room was unmistakable.

“It’s her,” she whispered to Viktur.

Yallia’s mouth was set in a grim line as she approached a small raised dais near the entrance. She surveyed the group quickly and commanded silence with her eyes.

“Are we all present?” she asked.

“Yes, Madame Prime,” responded a man Khadre recognized as Franc Kahlman, the Original to whom she had first brought her findings.

“Good. Let’s hear from the two scientists first. Khadre Seelith, daughter to Ciol Seeloki and Loni Jaysmith,” Yallia said, nodding at two of the female Originals in the room, who were seated at different tables, “and Viktur Ljarbazz, son to Ennex Ljarsen and Abdelle Shabazz.” Yallia found the two parents and smiled slightly when she spotted the father, Ennex. Yallia fixed her stare at Khadre and said, “What have you found?”

Khadre swallowed nervously. She had known that Ciol and Loni would be here, naturally, but had attached no special significance to that. They were her genetic parents, but they had not raised her as her dother had. It was not her geneparents’ attendance that had thrown her, but the directness of Yallia’s question.