Viscous Circle (28 page)

Ronald put his foot against the nest, about to shove it and its burden into the depths of the chasm. But he paused. This was a baby Cerberus, unable to terrify on a mass scale. It would be years, perhaps decades, before it grew to full size and power.

Ronald reached down his gauntleted hands and picked the creature out of the nest. It tried to bite his fingers, but recoiled in pain.

"Cerberus Junior," Ronald said, trying to concentrate his thought so it could understand. "You must forage alone." The adult had been male; perhaps the mother had perished elsewhere, or maybe she was hiding, lacking in telepathic ability. So either the pup could survive without nursing, by scaring squirrels or whatever other small life lived here, or it had a remaining parent. "Your father attacked a man, and was killed. You must never attack a man. Go, hide in the forest, survive. But stay away from this locale. Our fear is not for you."

The baby whimpered, seeming to understand. Ronald set it carefully on the other side of the cleft and watched it scramble away. Yes, it had gotten the message.

And he, Ronald, had proven himself. He would be a Transfer agent.

 

 

 

Chapter 14:

Maze

 

 

"What does it mean?" the Bands wondered.

"That is for you to decide," Ronald replied. "You evoked the memory."

They tried. It was a moral puzzle. Had it been right to violate his social principles by copulating with the Human female? If not, could his commitment to Cirl, to him an alien female, be justified? Had it been right to slay the fear-monster? This was a concept that would have been incomprehensible to the Band intellect prior to Rondl's training of Bands and the advent of the invasion of the Monsters. Now, since the slaying of the Kratch, they could to some extent appreciate his rationale.

"The fear-monster resembled the Kratch," the thought circulated, picking up on that current. "It sought to aggrandize itself at the expense of others. This was unsocial."

"Yet destroying life is also unsocial," Rondl argued, playing the advocate.

"To this extent we have become monsterized," the Bands thought, and from the opposite circuit the emotion concurred. "We now understand that sometimes evil must be met with evil. Yet never should evil be initiated."

"Solarian Monsters initiate evil," Rondl thought. "It is their nature. It is
my
nature, for I am one of them. This memory merely shows the background of my actions among you. I was able to slay Cerberus and the Kratch because I was already tainted with evil myself. You Bands must remain untainted."

"Without your leadership we revert to our nature," they agreed. The great majority of the participants of this circle were strangers, but a few had been part of Rondl's combat force, and these lent comprehension to the full circle. "If what we participate in is evil, it is at your instigation. Yet we cannot condemn you, for now we comprehend your nature. This memory has shown us that. It has revealed your most basic motive."

"You grasp me better than I grasp you," Rondl flashed. "Yet is that enough?"

"No. Now you must change circles."

"How do I do that?"

"Cirl is before you. Rotate with her, exchanging glances and directions while we hold firm."

Rondl was sorry he could not join Cirl in her own circle. But at least this way she would get to assimilate the conscious aspect of his memory, instead of the unconscious aspect. He rotated with her, exchanging places and circles. What an intricate device this double circle was!

Now the frame of the exploring Band hero opened out for him. He had flown to a strange planet, seeking something, and gone near the surface. The terrain had become strange indeed, a maze of surfaces and colors; of great mountains, deep valleys, and flat waters. Creatures had appeared, some seeming friendly, some hostile. That hostility was a new experience for Rondl the Band, an emotion he had thought alien. Of course his larger awareness advised him that this phenomenon related to emotion that generated from the other side of the circle, as a man approached a strange culture or a monster; but here the other experience translated into confusion and doubt. Yet there was a positive element, too. The friendly creatures thought he had come to help them eliminate the hostile ones, but he felt emotionally and physically ill-equipped. How could he, a visitor, do what the natives could not?
Should
he? Violence was not his nature.

No, violence was not necessary. Just assistance. If he could just converse with the hostile element, find out how the objection could be ameliorated, he might come to some understanding of its nature and discover a peaceful way to abate its animus.

Rondl realized that this Band approach differed from the Solarian approach to what might be a similar problem. The Solarians had never considered the view of the fear-monster; they had sought only to eliminate the creature. The Bands did not seek elimination, only accommodation. But perhaps that would be no easier than it had been for the Solarians.

Yet he had to try, for it was the Band way: to help one's neighbor. He agreed to seek the other party. Immediately he flew farther across the strange terrain, following the magnetic lines, finding his way to the region of the other.

He arrived, and discovered horrendously alien things. Alarmed, he veered away—and discovered himself captured.

The very notion of Band capture was alien, for Bands were completely free entities. Yet now there were a limited number of available lines, and across each of them was a globular, multiappendaged mass of creature. In the center of each mass was a light-emitting disk. Each disk was flashing in a primitive emulation of communication.

Communication? Was it possible? Could these animals be sapient despite having no magnetic lenses?

This was, Rondl realized, a long time ago, before the Bands realized there were other intelligent species in the universe. All non-Band species they had known before were animals.

"Then who were the friendly creatures?" he inquired. "I thought they were sapient aliens."

"Not exactly," the Bands of this side of the circle replied. "They had lenses, but lacked civilization. This becomes complex to clarify."

Without doubt. Rondl returned to the myth-memory, leaving the details of the order of discovery of sapient alien species for another occasion.

Experimentally, he flashed a beam of sunlight at one of the gross creatures. "Meeting," he said carefully.

"Meeng," the thing replied, generating its own clumsy fluctuations. Yet this was a creditable effort. It was indeed trying to communicate.

With that confirmation, Rondl knew why he had come here. What the friendly creatures had taken to be animosity was in fact merely an effort to establish a dialogue. He, a civilized Band, had the intellect to appreciate this. He could meet the creatures on their own terms, perhaps to mutual benefit.

Rondl settled down for a sizable portion of his life span and studied the language and customs of the Glowworms. When he had assimilated all he could, he disbanded.

That jolted Rondl out of his identification with the role. He wasn't ready to disband! "But didn't he go home first?" he demanded.

"Why?" The Bands were perplexed.

"To report his discovery to others! To let all Bands know!"

"No, he disbanded without returning to System Band. There was no need."

"But—then no one else knew. The greatest discovery of his time, that of alien sapient life, left unpresented. It was all pointless!"

"To the contrary. It was his ultimate realization."

"To learn everything—then suicide without informing anyone?" Rondl still balked at this concept.

"He had fulfilled his mission of experience. He brought an unprecedented wealth of experience to the Viscous Circle. That is why he became a legend, a figure of our mythology."

"That remains a riddle to me!" Rondl flashed.

There was tolerant humor in the circle. "Our other circle comprehends the adventure you shared with it. Perhaps in time you will assimilate our mythology."

"Perhaps," Rondl agreed dubiously. He suspected his problem related to his disbelief of the existence of the Viscous Circle. What was to the Bands the ultimate contribution was to him the ultimate waste.

"Can you provide the essence of that other experience? We felt its huge emotion."

"It was an episode from my past, in which I ascertained the nature of my mission in life after being in doubt."

"Then it is a true mirror of this experience! But if you did not disband on that occasion, what was the nature of that mission?"

"To come here and learn your philosophy. To help you defend against the Monsters." For without that victory over Cerberus, he never would have been a successful Transfer agent. Of course, he had not set out on this particular mission with the intent to help the Bands resist the Solarians, but as he learned more of the situation, that had become his mission. The officials at home would call it treason; that did not matter. Monster definitions were now too narrow for him.

"That seems true," the Bands agreed, comprehending. "Once you understand us sufficiently, you can disband."

Just when he thought comprehension was sufficient, he was reminded how far they all had yet to go to bridge the gulf between species. "Without returning to my own kind to report," he flashed wryly. He doubted his comprehension would ever be that complete. To master a subject, then suicide without leaving any record: that remained alien.

Then the double ring disbanded, having mastered its subject properly, and they were individuals again. Cirl rejoined him. "You have farther to travel to reach us than we have to reach you," she flashed cheerily. "Now at last I perceive enough of your nature."

"So it seems," Rondl agreed. "Yet I am glad you are able to accept me as I am."

"Or as you can be," she said. "It is not easy for you or for me, but love and understanding can bridge the gulf between stars."

That—and Transfer, he thought. What an experience that double circle had been! He would take a long time to assimilate all its revelations and implications, but he was sure that time would be worthwhile. Without comprehension, how could there be meaning in life?

But now he had more immediate, practical matters to attend to. He had been on his way to meet with the other Solarian Transferee, Tanya, if she really intended to be there, and if she had survived. Her host might have been lost while she was back among the Monsters. He and Cirl flew on, watching the other Bands spread in a dissipating cloud to other regions, following the lines out. Soon nothing remained of the fantastic circle except Rondl's memory, and Cirl's acceptance of him, Monster background and all. These things were, of course, enough.

 

*
 
*
 
*

 

They arrived in due course at Maze Mountain. This was an elevation with a number of projecting spikes, around which the magnetic lines wound. Bands were whirling merrily in and out, their colors flashing along with their joyous exclamations of light. The whole scene was very pretty, as Band congregations tended to be. To be a Band was to be peaceful, esthetic, fun-loving, and happy. Usually.
 

"It is a maze, you see," Cirl said. "You try to pass quickly by every spire while making an esthetic pattern. Or parties of people integrate patterns. It's fun."

"I'm supposed to meet Tanya by the orange spire," he said. It had not occurred to him that this region would be so crowded.

"Make a pattern till you encounter it," Cirl suggested.

Rondl found a break in the traffic and flew in, Cirl behind him. The line was strong, providing plenty of power, and between spikes it intersected with other lines, so that it was easy to shift without losing momentum. Rondl spun by a blue spire, shifted lines, and passed a green one. Other Bands cut across, traveling their routes, flashing their colors. This was fun!

Suddenly he spied the orange spire—but his pattern was wrong, and he could not get to it. He saw it disappear behind him. He would have to loop around and hope to catch it on the next pass. This was more tricky than he had thought. Truly, it was a maze.

After several tries he found the right access line and swung into orbit about the orange spire. Cirl joined him.

He found himself still in a crowd. Bands of both genders and every color circled with him. Apparently this was a popular rendezvous point. But how could he know which one was Tanya, or even whether she was here? There were several orange females, and he had neglected to find out what her Band name was. They had set no specific time of meeting—though Bands were hardly aware of time anyway, and had no terms for specific hours. Even the normal day-night cycle was irrelevant, because Bands were not confined to the planet, and there was no such thing as day or night in space. Space was brightly lighted near a sun and dark between suns, so location counted more than time of planetary turnings.

Well, he was thinking like a Band, when he needed to think like a Monster. Monsters seldom suffered from oversights of personal contact. They were practical. If they did not know where a person was, they put out a summons.

A summons. Would it work here? Not for a circle, but for an individual? He would try it. "I am Rondl," he flashed as well as he could to the others orbiting the spire. "I seek a female who comes from afar, who may be named Tanya." Only the name did not translate well to the Band flashes, and he garbled it.

There was no response. Rondl tried again, and again had none.

"She seems not to be here," Cirl said after several failures. They had asked for an orange Band, and there were several, but none was the one.

"Maybe she has not yet arrived," he said, though he feared she would never arrive. She could be dead; or she might have bounced in Transfer owing to a lost host; or she could simply have decided not to meet him—might never have intended to meet him. He did not know her intent, which was why he had to meet her. If she were more loyal to the Monster Sphere than he was—