Watchstar (15 page)

She turned her head. It was an effort. She gazed straight ahead. She began to feel grateful for Reiho's potion; without it, these visions would have driven her mad. Even now, though seemingly buried under swaths of cotton, a small part of her mind was screaming, reeling in terror, though the fear seemed unable to penetrate to her consciousness. She could not sense Reiho's thoughts, even when she tried; his potion must have dulled her senses. She blinked and shook her head groggily. She saw a burning disk, Heaven's Fire, the sun; it could not be anything else.

Before them, the long tail of the comet was growing larger. “As we get closer to the sun,” Reiho said, “some of the ices which make up our world evaporate, and create the tail you see. The solar wind forces it out, blows it away from the sun, if you will.” She did not understand exactly what he was saying, but forced herself to listen, hoping knowledge of this world would dampen her fear. “There are millions of comets and asteroids in the Halo at the edge of this planetary system.”

They fell toward the tail and were soon enveloped in a misty light. The light shifted and danced, sparkling. She looked ahead and gasped, sure that in spite of the calming liquid, she had lost her mind at last. She said, “Reiho.” Her voice was only a croak, the name barely more than a whispered plea. Her body was numb, her mind almost blank, but that small part of her was still screaming, threatening to break through her artificial calm.

The circular object in front of them was growing, becoming more than a dark spot beyond the light around them. It grew larger, becoming a nimbus permeated by dark veins. Daiya stiffened. The object became a seed, a seed sprouting stems. It wasn't possible. How could such things grow away from Earth?

The terms became branches, covered with leaves. They were soon in the midst of the foliage, an insect in a jungle. She peered out the side of the craft through the dome. Shiny flat tapered surfaces, silvery mirrors and green glassy leaves, glistened along the branches. The branches met and entwined growing larger as they passed. “Trees,” she said suddenly. But these trees were thousands of paces thick, perhaps millions of paces high. They were the trees of a giant, of a monster.

“They are trees, or at least their ancestors were trees,” Reiho said. His voice sounded muffled, far away. “They are greatly changed and modified, not like your trees, but they too are the descendants of Earth.”

“It cannot be,” she replied. The words rolled in her mouth, blurred and indistinct. She stared at the tree limbs. Their surface was metallic, like copper, yet bumpy and ridged like bark.

“They are,” he answered. “I shall try to explain. Their leaves, of course, have reflective surfaces to capture light, and the oxygen that they produce is channelled down to our world through the trunks and roots, instead of being lost in space. Long ago, when we first settled this world, we could not live out in the Halo, it was too far from sunlight for the trees to flourish, and we had to move closer to the sun. But now they are capable of living far from the sun, the combined surface of the leaves is so vast, and our modifications so successful, that our needs can be met at great distances.”

“Don't explain,” she muttered. “I can't understand.” They were surrounded by thick trunks. Ahead, a webbing of coppery limbs covered thick foliage; lights twinkled amongst the green growth. She had not known what to expect on Reiho's world, but she had not anticipated a forest.

The coppery limbs, she saw, were roots, thousands and thousands of paces thick, high as mountains. The craft flew among them, toward a lighted space beneath one root. The space contained a tiny garden, small trees, spots of pastel color, little creatures—people. She shook her head. The craft darted into the root and settled on the green grass.

Daiya pressed her back against her seat. Her mind was clearing. Her terror was growing sharper. She looked at Reiho. There was a wall between them. She still could not touch his thoughts. She clutched at her tunic. She knew the potion was wearing off; something was wrong. She was mindless, locked inside herself.

“Daiya, are you all right?” He reached for her hand. She pushed him away. She focused on a small metal box resting on the panel in front of her, trying to move it with her mind. It was still, unmoving.

A scream escaped her. Reiho held her shoulders. “My mind!” she cried in agony. “My powers are gone!” She looked around wildly. The boy had done something to her. He had poisoned her with his potion.

She tried to strike him. He pulled away. She shook herself loose from him. He grabbed her arms. Unable to read his thoughts, she could not tell what he would do. “You've tricked me.”

“I have not tricked you. Tell me what is wrong.”

She pulled one hand loose and struck him. She gasped at the pain, and slumped forward. He released her other hand. She pushed against the door. It slid open, spilling her out of the vehicle. She could not lift herself, could not heal herself, could not fly, could not mindspeak. She rolled over and stumbled to her feet.

Reiho was running around the front of the shuttle toward her. Her legs were filled with water. The silence roared inside her head. A man's face, pale and blue-eyed, was in front of her; she felt nothing behind the face, could not read the man's intentions. She threw out her arms and pushed, meeting something solid. The face disappeared. She began to run. She tripped and slammed into another shuttle.

She got up, moaning. Her shoulder felt bruised. She turned and saw other faces, eyes wide, mouths open. She spun around and ran in another direction, darting past other shuttles. Her feet pounded silently over the soft grass. She turned to her right, away from the vehicles, toward a group of trees. Voices babbled nearby; she seemed to hear another voice, a deep penetrating one, thundering from above. She continued to run. She stumbled, narrowly missed a tree, and tumbled onto the grass.

She looked around. Three small figures—children—were staring at her with big eyes. She could not touch their minds. She moaned. One child smiled. Another stretched out a hand; its lips moved. Daiya got up and fled.

She was trapped in shadows. She stopped and surveyed her surroundings. She was in a forest, lost among trees. She leaned against one tree, panting for breath. She narrowed her eyes. There was something odd about the wooded region. She sniffed. Only the mingled fragrances of flowers reached her; there were no odors of dead leaves and dirt. She looked down at her feet. The weedless grass was short and tidy. For a moment, she thought she heard a bird singing in the distance.

She was lost. She could not make her way around this world.

She bent over for a moment, letting the blood rush to her head, then straightened. Her mind was gone; she was a solitary. She had been punished, struck down. She had sought isolation and now she had it. She had lost all her powers. Even her body was closed off from her, a prison enclosing her mind. She could not control herself. She felt her bruise. Her shoulder was hurting her badly, and she could not reach inside herself to heal it.

Her stomach lurched. She fell to her knees, sick and weary. She vomited; her body was raging out of control. Sobbing, she tried to rise.

“Daiya.”

She looked up. Reiho was coming toward her. She wanted to crush his mind, squeeze it until the blood spurted from his eyes.

“I followed you.” He reached out with one arm. She crawled away from him. “I am sorry. I should have prepared you for what you would find.”

There were others with the boy. She saw them now. They stood among the trees. One man was almost crouching, holding his hands in front of his chest as if she were a wild creature that would pounce on him. Slowly, she got to her feet and lifted her head. They had come to judge her. “What are they going to do to me?”

“Nothing. They are only curious.”

“I don't believe you, you've tricked me.”

“I shall send them away if you wish.”

“Send them away.”

Reiho went to the crouching man and spoke to him. The people vanished among the trees, glancing back at her as they went. She could not sense their minds. She wondered if they were real.

Reiho returned and tried to take her hand. She pulled away. She said, “You have condemned me. I cannot feel anything, your world is dead to me.”

“Daiya, I think I know what is wrong.”

“You have condemned me.” Her hands and feet felt very cold. Her shoulder throbbed; her muscles were growing stiff. The trees were still and their leaves did not rustle; there was no breeze. This world was an illusion; she understood that now. If she lived, she would be crippled and alone.

She turned her head. A thing stood several paces in front of her, a squat square thing with limbs like pincers. It lit up and beeped. It was her executioner, it would crush her with its limbs. She stared at it numbly. Her vision blurred and she staggered. She saw Reiho's feet moving toward her, and felt the coolness and softness of the grass against her cheek before she passed out.

11

Daiya was dimly conscious. She seemed to be floating, yet she could feel something against her back. She rested, keeping her eyes closed, trying to orient herself. She was afraid to look, wondering if her vision would be taken from her next, and then her hearing, and then touch, trapping her in a darkness as black as the creature who had enveloped her during her ordeal. That thought seemed abstract; the horror of the memory was not penetrating to her. She stirred slightly. The pressure against her back seemed to shift, molding itself to her. She drifted off again, thinking she heard voices in the distance. She could not make out the words. The voices rose and fell, soothing her with their tones.

She opened her eyes. She felt lethargic; the fires inside her were banked and smoldering. Leafy tree branches formed a roof over her. She still felt as though she were floating. She turned on her side and faced a wall of ivy. She was on a platform of some kind. It seemed to shift with her, forming itself around her as if it were a living thing. She shuddered, wondering how a person could rest on such a platform.

The memory of her journey with Reiho returned; someone must have given her another calming potion. She stretched her legs, wiggling her toes. She sat up slowly. Her moccasins, slacks, belt, and knife had been removed, folded, and placed at her side. She was surrounded by a green curtain of ivy; four trees grew at each corner of the platform.

She lay down again, feeling weak. Suddenly a hand swept away the vines facing her. She blinked. She was inside a cave, or so it seemed. Two small twisted trees, surrounded by tiny red buds, grew next to the cave wall. Bright lights danced along the wall, streams of them, red and gold and white, streaking up, then down, twisting themselves into patterns. Reiho was sprawled on a light brown mass that looked like a lopsided mushroom, his feet resting on the grassy ground. A platform floated in front of him; two other people stood near him. The people flickered, then vanished. It was like the trick the Merging Ones could do, and she wondered how these people did it. They had no powers. Neither did she, any more.

A woman was standing near her. The woman's skin was dark brown, covered only by a few thin strips of violet cloth that hung from her shoulders, crossed under her bare breasts, then circled her hips. Her breasts were small, almost flat. Her hips were slim, the narrowest Daiya had ever seen on a female. Her long legs were hairless. She lifted her eyes to the woman's face. Her nose was small, her lips curved at the corners, her eyes brown and tilted. There were no lines on her face. Her red hair was thick and frizzy, but short.

The woman watched her silently for a bit. In spite of her youthful face, her eyes seemed old, as old as Jowē's. She draped the vines around one of the trees, then came closer, settling herself on the side of the platform near Daiya. She said, “Are you well now?” She spoke the words with a slight accent, unlike Reiho, who had always seemed to be clearing his throat on certain syllables.

“I don't know,” Daiya answered.

“Can you understand my words? I learned this language long ago and had to connect with Homesmind to refresh myself.”

“I understand.” Daiya sat up again, folding her legs.

“I am Etey. I am Reiho's companion. We brought you to our home. You have been resting for a long time. I have given you something to calm you.”

Daiya stared at the woman, instinctively trying to touch her thoughts; she touched nothing. “Reiho has communicated all he knows about you,” Etey went on. “We have communed with Homesmind as well. I am sorry you were not better prepared for your trip here, but do not blame him too much. He is only a boy and did the best he could.”

Daiya wrapped her arms around herself. She was helpless; without her powers, she could not tell what the woman, or anyone else, would do to her. She would be unable to defend herself. She could not read Etey, could not tell what she felt. “I'm crippled,” she said at last. “My mind is without its powers. I know you have given me something, or I would be mad by now. I feel as though...” She shrugged. She could not explain it. These people must feel like this all the time. She wondered how they could endure it.

“Reiho explained what he found,” Etey responded. “Of course you are like this, you have been cut off from the source of your power, from the machines you and Reiho discovered.”

Daiya drew her brows together.

“Do you understand? You have only lost your abilities because you are so distant from those machines.”

She nodded, wondering why she had not thought of that herself. It was not a punishment after all; the voice under the mountain had told her the truth.

Reiho came over to her and sat down next to Etey. “Everyone is curious about you, Daiya,” he said. “They all want to know more about Earth.”

Her shoulders slumped. She imagined them all poking at her, prying into her ideas, peering at her. She sighed, feeling like an object, a thing; she recalled how she had first regarded Reiho. “What am I going to do?” she asked. Her voice sounded too high. She reached out with her hands; they were trembling. She noticed that her shoulder no longer felt bruised. Her sleeves fell back and she saw a tiny mark on her left arm, near her wrist. She looked up at Etey.

“You saw the mark,” the woman said quickly. “Do not worry, it is only a tranquilizing implant, it will keep you calm. I hope your head is clear, I was afraid you might be groggy. Your body is somewhat different from ours, and we had to make adjustments.”

Daiya clutched her shoulders. “Adjustments!”

“Not in you, in the implant.”

“What will happen to me?” She looked from the woman to Reiho. His eyes stared back, filled with concern; for a moment, it was as if she had touched his mind after all. Then she was trapped inside herself again. “What shall I do?”

“You may stay with us,” Etey said. “I know it will be difficult at first, but there are many here who can help you.”

Daiya was silent. She looked around the cave, which was darker now except for the area in which they were sitting. The light had dimmed as Reiho came over to her. There were other mushroom-like chairs such as the one on which the boy had been seated, and three tables made of tree stumps. Earth had receded in her mind. This place, so like her world in some ways, only made her long for Earth more. She could never be a part of this world, only an outsider. They would accept her as easily as her village would have accepted Reiho.

At last she said, “I don't know what to do.”

“You do not have to decide right away,” Etey said. “In the meantime, we can learn about your home and your culture. We are very curious.”

Daiya felt apprehensive. “I cannot,” she said.

“But why?”

“I might betray my people to you, and never know what I had done. You will learn about them while they still know nothing of you, and you may see our weaknesses. Already you may know too much.”

Daiya looked down at her hands, and twisted her fingers together. “What is the point of talking to you?” she continued. “You can probably take the knowledge from me in some way, whether I want you to or not. You have me as a prisoner, you can hold me here, I can't get back alone. I cannot even defend myself against you, I have lost my powers.”

Etey held out a hand. “We shall not hurt you, and we will not force anything from you. Please try to understand us.” Daiya stared at the outstretched hand, refusing to take it. Etey shrugged. “Perhaps you will listen to Reiho.” The woman looked at the boy and he stared back. For a moment, Daiya thought she saw anger in Reiho's eyes, but she could not be sure.

Etey left them, returning to the other room. Reiho peered at Daiya from the sides of his eyes. She said, “Something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” He said it softly.

“There was something in your face when you looked at your friend.”

Reiho looked down. “Etey is only concerned, that is all. You frightened some people when you ran from the shuttle. You are something new here, and Etey and the others do not know what you will do.”

“Is that why this thing is in my arm, so that I can be controlled?”

“You were agitated. The implant will ease things for you.” She continued to stare at him until he shook his head and sighed. “It is true that it also eases things for my people,” he went on. “They were afraid of what you might do otherwise.”

“I am your prisoner, then.”

“No.” He touched her arm with his hand. “You are a guest, and if you stay, you will be treated as a friend. Please listen to me. I shall protect you, I will not let anything happen.”

“You would not have to say that unless you are afraid something will happen.”

“Please trust me,” he said in a whisper. “I had to trust you on your world, and you must trust me here. We only need time to grow used to you.”

She nodded, unable to say more.

“You are tired,” the boy said. “You should rest some more.”

“I've been resting,” she answered, yawning as she spoke. She reclined again, feeling drained. Reiho left her. The thick ivy fell, closing her off from the rest of the cave, shutting her off from the rest of the comet, hiding her from Earth, closing off her mind, imprisoning her.

She heard the murmur of voices, and recognized Reiho's. The voices were speaking a strange language. They were calm voices. She heard Reiho's voice make a noise that sounded like a word of denial. A woman's voice, which she assumed belonged to Etey, spoke quietly, but there was a demanding, aggressive undercurrent to her words.

Perhaps she was only imagining it, falsely attributing emotions to the voices. She could not be sure. She thought of what Reiho had said and wondered if she was driving a wedge between him and his world, as he had done with her and her village. She rolled on her side and clung to her knees, afraid.

The vines twisted away as Reiho walked through them. “Come on,” he said, pulling her hand. She followed him through the cave's entrance. The vines closed behind them. Her muscles ached a bit. She would have to sleep on the grass; the firm ground would be more comfortable than the platform.

She looked around, feeling disoriented. Cliffs of green with vine-covered caves surrounded her. A surface aglow with yellow light arched far above them; there was no blue sky, and no clouds. Far below, a valley ribboned and smeared with blue nestled among the cliffs. She saw no fields, no crops. “Where are we, Reiho?”

“Inside the root of one of those tall trees you saw when we arrived,” he answered.

She shook her head and almost lost her balance. She was moving. She looked down at her feet, and saw a clear glassy surface under her moccasins; she was sliding slowly along it. She held on to Reiho. The surface seemed to be carrying her. “You can walk if you wish,” the boy said. She tried that, moving her feet carefully, feeling the surface yield under them. She stood still; she would let it carry her.

She looked ahead. They were heading toward a space which looked like a sheer drop into nothing. “Press that,” he said, motioning at the belt he had given her earlier. She pressed it just as they reached the end of the glassy path. They dropped, drifting slowly down past the cliff. Three men floated by them and waved at Reiho. They passed elaborately painted walls surrounded by yellow flowers and dropped into a courtyard of white tiles surrounded by trees no higher than bushes. A group of small children were playing by a pool; they were naked except for belts. They chanted, pointed at one another, then began to weave in and out in a complicated pattern.

“What are they doing?” she asked Reiho.

“It is only a game.” Two children ran to her, pulled at her tunic, and then retreated, giggling. They babbled at the others. “They are puzzled by your clothing, it is strange to them.” He pointed at one little girl. She smiled at him as she circled around a boy. “That child there is a ... a ... I do not have the word in your language. She is what you would call a relative of mine, I think.”

“Your sister? A cousin?”

“Not exactly. We share certain genetic characteristics, some common ancestors. Some of the same genetic material was used to create both of us.”

She wondered what he was talking about. “Your parents are related, then,” she said, trying to make sense of his words.

“We do not have parents as you do,” he responded. They walked around the children as he spoke. He did not seem to be paying much attention to his relation; he had not even introduced her. She wondered if they got along, and remembered her sister Silla. She followed him out of the courtyard along a stone path “The material of several individuals was combined by Homesmind to create me, and I was raised by a group of adults. Etey was one of those people, and when I was twelve years old, twelve cycles, you would say, we became companions. I have been with her for four years now, but soon we will separate and I shall once again live with others my age and with those who will teach us.”

“Then you have no parents,” she said, trying to imagine being without those ties.

“But I do. Everyone here is my family, all those who are older are, in a way, parents or teachers to those who are younger. Homesmind is also our parent, since it is Homesmind who selects our genetic characteristics and who brings us to term in Its wombs.”

“You have no mothers and fathers?” She felt queasy as she spoke.

“Not as you do. Such a way of bringing children into the world is hard and dangerous.”

She was silent, not wanting to say that his way seemed a perversion and made her sick just to think about it. Nothing seemed abhorrent to people who altered their own bodies as they did. She drew away from Reiho. The stone path twisted, leading them under an arched bower of slender trees with white blossoms. They were suddenly in the middle of a forest. Daiya spotted a low flat rock, as pale and pink as rose quartz but smooth as if sculpted, and sat on it, feeling completely lost.

Reiho sat next to her. “Do you not want to see more? I can show you...”

She shook her head. She looked at the scratch on her arm which marked the implant, the thing which kept her a prisoner and unable even to feel her revulsion strongly. She longed to claw at it with her nails, tear it out. They had to alter her feelings even to keep her here, robbing her of parts of herself. They had taken her mindpowers, stolen her feelings. They wanted her knowledge. She wondered if they could take her memories from her as well. What kind of place was it where people lived without true families, gave birth to no one, mated with those who had brought them up and then left them, turned their world into a cultivated garden without danger, and put mechanical devices inside their bodies? She could not even touch Reiho; his skin was not skin, but an artificial covering. He sat next to her, naked except for his belt and a few bands of cloth which seemed purely decorative; he might just as well be covered in robes from head to foot.