Wulfsyarn: A Mosaic (21 page)

Finally the Quelle tired and Sandy took more complete control. The boy was bewildered beyond reckoning. “Help me,” he said. “Help both of us. My training never told me about all this—the sickness, the visions. I’m starting to hate myself. I want to poke my eyes out. I want my flock back. I want to go home.”

Wilberfoss took his hands and held them between his own giant palms. He could think of nothing to say for the moment. He saw the boy shiver and then droop and place his blue-tinged face on the table. Both creatures which inhabited the same body were asleep. Wilberfoss fetched a cushion from the chair by the fire and placed it under the boy’s head. Then he took a woven cover from one of the chests by the wall and draped it over his shoulders. The boy murmured in his sleep like a cat.

Wilberfoss was uncertain what to do for the best. He sat and looked at the sleeping boy and faced the first real trial of his captaincy. He reviewed his options.

One possibility was to turn back to Shamrock on the grounds that this contact was not working and needed a substitute. He rejected this option. He told himself that the disruption to the schedule would be too great and besides, it was early days yet and the wise confreres who knew more than he did about contact with Distant Metabolism Entities had presumably taken care over the selection. Perhaps time would effect a shakedown. To his credit, Wilberfoss was not consciously aware that turning back might seem like a lack of decisiveness, though that may have been an unconscious motive.

A second possibility was to invite the Quelle to change hosts. To do this he would need the help and advice of Mohawk and the bio-crystalline brains that controlled the ship. He immediately summoned Mohawk to join him and opened lines of communication to the bio-crystalline consciousness at the heart of the ship. There was, of course, no certainty that a change of hosts would be successful. It might be a case of out of the pot and into the fire.

A third possibility was that he should take the Quelle inside himself. Wilberfoss did not entertain this possibility for long as it had many unknowns, though speaking with the wisdom of hindsight, I know that it was his best option. Wilberfoss had a rare way with creatures. I have seen his power, and something of the great Dionysos flowed in him. Quelle would not have mastered him. I would maintain that if Wilberfoss had received the alien Quelle inside himself then he would have found the strength to cope with the implantation. We shall never know. But perhaps Wilberfoss, in his deeps, found the idea of alien infestation intolerable. It is even possible that he felt a lack of sympathy for the boy simply because he had allowed himself to be possessed.

A fourth possibility, and one which greatly appealed to Wilberfoss, was that he should use the power he could exercise over creatures to subdue either Sandy, making of the boy a passive host, or the Quelle, making of the parasite a gentle rider. We may observe that there is something of vanity in this choice.

There were other possibilities which Wilberfoss did not consider. He could, for instance, have reached out with one of his giant hands and killed them both while they slept at his table. Had he done so the
Nightingale
and all who were in her would have been saved. Naturally, the rules of the Gentle Order by which he lived forbade this. However, I, Wulf, who do not have to worry much about a human conscience, have to consider this option. Perhaps Wilberfoss allowed himself to be too controlled by the rules. The true leader is the one who can improvise. Ethics are harder than logic.

Nor did he think of trying to move the Quelle to a semi-living host such as a bio-cyrstalline entity. Talking with Wilberfoss during his convalescence in Lily’s Garden I made the point to him that if I had been aboard and had been aware of the problem, I would have offered myself as host. I have just enough bio- to be acceptable (I believe) and my -crystalline parts are very pure. I could have coped with the Quelle. I could have miaowed to keep it peaceful. I could have straightened it with reason. But I was not there and so I wonder why those great bio-crystalline brains which ran the ship with such sophistication never thought to offer a part of themselves. Clearly they knew nothing of literature or history, for the Renegade swine would have given them a clue how to proceed and they were cleverer than swine. Surely they could have modified a part of themselves to create a host which resembled the Hydron of the Quelle’s homeworld? They could have isolated the madness of the Quelle within a bio-crystalline pen. They could have freed Sandy of his pain. But apparently this possibility never was considered. There may be reasons for this. I don’t know.

I have used the words “madness of the Quelle.” This is Wulfs conclusion though it can not now be proved. I believe the Quelle was mad. No host would have suited it, not even St. Francis Dionysos himself. The pure boy Sandy it likened to a sewer! But how do we understand the madness of an alien brain? Shall we say that sanity consists in that which is on the side of Life? A life-form that is opposed to Life is opposed to itself and that is surely insane. This is a distinction easy to grasp and hard to apply. But it is a guide. When logic feds, ethics may still be up and running.

Mohawk arrived, drowsy and worried, and she and Wilberfoss entered the small vestibule off the diningroom where they could gain direct access to the powerful and unsleeping bio-crystalline constructs which ran the ship. They discussed the problem and were amazed to discover that the bio-crystalline minds already had some inkling of the trouble. Maintaining the structures in the DME section of the
Nightingale,
they had become aware that Sandy was not sleeping well. They had heard him crying and miaowing. “We can even, sometimes, pick up thought patterns broadcast by humans for we scan all levels of emanation. We have been aware of sadness and suffering.”

“Why did you not tell me?” asked Wilberfoss. “Because sadness and suffering are common among the life-forms aboard this ship. It is like the background noise you hear when a dominant sound has gone away.”

“Are Sandy and the Quelle louder than the rest?” “Somewhat louder.”

“Why is that do you think?”

“Because their thoughts are fueled by strong emotion. Emotion is the engine. Thought is merely the emanation.”

Both Mohawk and Wilberfoss absorbed this. “Well, what do you think we should do?” asked Mohawk after a long pause.

“That must be up to you,” said the bio-crystalline minds of the
Nightingale.
“You know far more about such things than we do. We can feel sympathy, but we cannot make decisions the way you can. We can only carry out your decisions once made.”

Mohawk and Wilberfoss looked at one another. “Over to you, Captain,” said Mohawk.

Wilberfoss felt the thrill of decision-making. “We have a crisis in the making. I cannot judge how serious it is but I don’t feel like taking chances. I am going to move Sandy and the Quelle up here where I can keep a close eye on them. Any problem with that?” he asked the air and the ceding.

“No problem at all,” came back the reply. “They have no special requirement beyond food and air.”

Mohawk nodded. “I think that would be a good idea.” “Furthermore,” said Wilberfoss, “I want to look at changing our schedule. After this visit to the homeworld of the Trimaton we are scheduled to travel out to the rim to the Dysers homeworld. We are expected and there is a rare conjunction of planets taking place—a once-in-ten-thousand-years event in which they have invested much magic and ceremony. We cannot miss that, but thereafter the schedule is variable. We had planned to go to Croppa’s World and take on supplies, but I suggest that we move directly to the homeworld of the Quelle. We can give them advance warning. I know there is a team from the Gentle Order already on planet and they will do everything they can to have a true host, a Hydron, standing by. Can this be done easily?”

“We can reschedule. So long as there are no species that are dying and have a limited timespan.” There was a moment’s pause. “We can see no problem,” replied the bright voice of the
Nightingale.
“We can begin to contact the Quelle homeworld immediately.”

“That plan has an added advantage,” said Mohawk, the practical. “We can inform both Sandy and the Quelle of the change and the knowledge that their suffering is close to an end will probably help greatly. They are not scheduled for planet fell for some two ship years I believe.”

“Two years and seven months.”

“Well then. I am sure they can hold on for a couple of ship’s weeks. Especially if you take a hand.” Mohawk nodded at Wilberfoss.

Wilberfoss smiled.

The decision pleased them all. The meeting ended.

Mohawk helped set up a special room for Sandy/ Quelle and then she bade Wilberfoss good night. “Just a word of warning,” she offered as she turned to leave. “Don’t fell asleep with the Quelle close by. I watched it take over Sandy and it is quite irresistible. I know so little about them. Keep the door secured.”

Wilberfoss laughed. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “Perhaps now that your Trimaton is gone you might be able to study up on the Quelle?”

“I will,” she said. “I will.”

“We also will be watching and on guard,” came the voice of the
Nightingale.

Thus all should have been well, for the plan was a good one. Miscalculated only was the severity of the breakdown between Sandy and the Quelle and the danger that that breakdown posed. Nor was there any talk of madness.

Why this plan faded I will reveal in the next pebble of my story.

But before I do, you first need to know a bit more about bio-crystalline consciousness. If you have ever seen a crystal grow in a super-saturated solution then you will have seen what a bio-crystalline structure looks like. It branches and bifurcates and forms a complex of relationships dictated by local gravity and an internal logic of opportunity.    -

What you need to add to that image of almost magical growth is the idea of cellular growth. The crystals have a biological origin. Most bio-crystalline brains are grown deep in space and in an environment where gravitational effects are minimized. Hence their structure can be determined more by their function than by accidents.

As with so much else, the driving power behind biocrystalline technology is human emotion. Thus, it was very important to the crystals aboard the
Nightingale
that they achieve their final awareness from contact with Jon Wilberfoss. He warmed them. They grew under his light.

Bio-crystallism is essentially dynamic and full of potential.

Let me describe myself. If you take my lid off you will find that almost every part of my inner structure is linked by thin white threads. They are like roots that have grown under slate or concrete. They are also like the patterns made by frost on a pane of glass. They are strong like roots. They are patterns like frost. Such is my bio-crystalline consciousness and I am a crude machine. I have only a few crystals, but those few allow me to write this biography and study history. They make me Wulf.

Imagine then the
Nightingale.

When I was describing the inner workings of the
Nightingale
many words ago, I deliberately chose not to describe the bio-crystalline chamber at the heart of the ship. Now I must do so.

The bio-crystalline brain of the
Nightingale
is divided into two parts of which one brain may be called the master and the second, the sub-master. I will describe the sub-master first. The space between the outer hull and the inner walls of that ship is entirely filled with the bio-crystalline structures. They are like white rope. They are like pink coral. They grow in every comer and angle. These crystals control the vast symbol transformation generators. They grow around the outer part of the ship because they require the maximum available area and they function best in a cold vacuum. In their capacity to be logical and illogical at the same time, they are almost a law unto themselves, but their loyalty is to the ship and the master consciousness.

Linked to the sub-master is the inner brain or master which controls all the alien habitats and all local functions. These crystals are all located in a single spherical chamber some one hundred feet below Jon Wdberfoss’s rooms. I have seen pictures of this chamber. It is like a cave filled with cobwebs. The individual seed crystals are white studs set around the wall. Everything grows from them. Nothing moves in this sterile chamber. It is as still as the end of time. And yet in every fiber and tendril there are tides of energy flowing. Here is where the complex working of the ship is monitored. Not a toilet flushes or door opens without the fact being noted. It is this brain that speaks to Wilberfoss and weighs the odds and offers him advice and is finally his servant. The bio-crystalline brain is dependent.

Let us not fool ourselves: despite the power and the infinitude of reference, the bio-crystalline brain remains more -crystalline than bio- (and in saying this I am aware of my earlier comments concerning my preparedness to accommodate the Quelle). Let us never underestimate the signal importance of the moderator, of that thing of logic and intuition which maintains a balance between anarchy and order and contains both kindness and cruelty and has at its disposal a billion years of wisdom built into its cells ... I am speaking of the human mind.

We are coming close. Have you spotted the fetal Achilles’ heel of bio-crystallism yet?

So it was that Sandy moved into a side room close to Wilberfoss’s quarters. Wilberfoss listened to Sandy and when he heard the pain rise he sent out his own roving power and took the pain and stilled it. He numbed both Quelle and Human.

To Wilberfoss this was like joining with a creature when it is hunting or mating, or liberating the vegetative side of his being to comprehend rainfall or the quiet of sap rising. Wilberfoss came to know the Quelle and the Quelle became afraid of him for the vitality of Wilberfoss could have boiled its cells.