Thousandstar

by Piers Anthony

  "No!"

  'Oh, come on now, Heem! I'm not trying to pry into your doubtless guilty secrets. I don't care about your secrets. What difference do they make, if we are about to die? You want to die in space; I want to die with sight. Because I'm an artist at heart, visually oriented. The least you can do is try to learn to see.'

  Heem did not follow all her alien logic, but there seemed to be some sense there. "I will try to see," he sprayed with resignation. Obviously she would not allow him to die in peace if he did not make this effort.

  'Good. Let's start with that—that thing out there. The main ball of it can't be seen or perceived at all, directly, because it is what it is, by definition unperceivable. But around the edge—what is there?'

  Heem tasted the impulses the ship fetched in. He tried to suppress his taste sensation, allowing information to remain just that: information without perception. An increasing bulk of it was non-information, as the Hole made its massive non-presence felt.

  Around the fringe of that vast blankness were lesser phenomena. Matter was being drawn from the Star to spiral into the Hole. It was a gradual process, for only the substance erupted from solar flares escaped the Star's own gravitational well—to be captured by the smaller but deeper well of the Hole. Ribbons of gas formed concentric rings about it, admixed with meteoric rock and other debris. The radius of no-return was much larger for solid matter than for gas, and smaller for energy. They were now at the fringe of the solid limit for chemical propulsion; a really powerful jet-drive might enable H-66 to break free. But that was not what they had. They had barely enough fuel left to decelerate for a planetary landing, academic as that had become.

  And—Heem almost began to see it. He knew he was merely picking up the feedback from Jessica's effort of imagination, but she did know how to see, which was something no HydrO knew, and she did have a fine, focusing mind. When not distracting herself with pointless jealousy of more lushly fleshed females of her kind.

  'I heard that!'

  "You were snooping."

  'Oh, I suppose I can't deny all the Bessies of this galaxy their right to use what little they have to better their situation. It's just that I wish other things counted for more.'

  "Flavor counts for more."

  'Go to hell.'

  She was determined to expire in her own style, though what he grasped of her image of hell was not far removed from the Hole they were entering. She wanted to distract herself from the reality of death. That was something Heem should be doing too; his weakness was—

  A planetoid loomed near, its rocky surface cratered and ragged. The light of Holestar reflected from it, making it sparkle. There must be reflective minerals—

  Shock ran through him. He had seen it! He had seen glints of brightness, rather than tasting nodules of flavor. He—no, of course he hadn't. He had no—

  'Oh, now you've spoiled it!' Jessica cried. 'Just when it was coming clear!'

  So he had. "Seeing—it just is not natural," Heem sprayed apologetically.

  'Maybe not to you. Why don't you just tune out for an hour or so while I play with it? I promise I'll wake you in plenty of time for your demise.' Now there was a brittle-ness to her cleverness. She was angry about dying.

  "I shall," he agreed. And relaxed into memory. These recollections might be forbidden and unsocial and illegal—but what did such things matter now?

  Moon of Morningmist woke him with a fine-spraycaress that proceeded quickly to further copulation. She tasted wonderful. Then they rolled out to interact again with her siblings, Miin, Maan, Muun, and Meen. Heem, fresher this morning than he had been on the prior day, doused them all with a splendid sex spray, and they needled him back delightedly. There was no joy in life to match that of such a welcome!

  They toured the further aspects of the valley of Morningmist, paying special attention to the swamp that degenerated from the nether end of the lake. There were flatfloaters in it, big, healthy ones, that took easy jaunts over the surface of the water, swamp, and land.

  "Heem came over the mountain on a flatfloater," Moon sprayed proudly. She had a proprietary attachment to him, for he had encountered her first, and he chose to copulate with her for pleasure rather than mere politeness. "The creatures can be guided by jets. We can do it too, with courage—"

  "My brothers died!" Heem interjected. She was spraying as though she had entirely forgotten their dialogue of the night.

  'Females do that,' a thought needled him. 'Be assured she has not forgotten a thing.'

  "Therefore your valley of Highfalls is empty, and requires seeding," Moon concluded firmly, demonstrating the accuracy of his thought-warning.

  "No! We are not sure of that!" But they were not convinced; he could taste it even without their sprays of demurral. "And—I am afraid to risk my life on another flatfloater." That was a half-truth, but it would have to do.

  "Yes, there is fear," Moon agreed.

  They continued the tour of Morningmist, visiting its pleasant seclusions, playing challenging games, comparing personal histories. It was very like his prior life, with the added dimension of sexuality. Heem enjoyed it greatly. In fact, tasting back later, he was to conclude that this was the happiest of his forbidden memories.

  Yet after the first full day he began to wonder: was this all there was to life? Residing in one valley or another, sporting, while things like Slitherfear Squam consumed them one by one? Where was the meaning in that? Maybe he was wrong about repopulation. If he were to procreate, seeding his valley of Highfalls, then stay to protect and guide his offspring—he knew Moon would not agree to that, for she had already jetted that it was not the HydrO way, but if he deceived her into thinking that he was departing the valley, then secretly returned—

  No. Deception was not his way. He had to convince her, or not seed the valley at all.

  'That is an honorable sentiment, Heem.'

  There went his thought again. Still, the impasse remained. Suppose Moon could not be convinced? He found himself yielding, preparing to follow the HydrO way. It was better than being idle.

  Next day they came across the remains of Miin. Slitherfear had descended to the valley floor and caught her as she slept. The Squam had not been hungry enough to consume her entirely, so had left half of her lying in her burrow. That was how they knew what had happened. Usually members of their number had just distasted, with no indication of the manner of their demise.

  They rolled rocks to block up Mini's burrow, sealing her in. Her body would decompose into its components in the natural way. It was all they could do for her. They sprayed about the nice things she had done in life, the sweet thoughts she had jetted, how pleasant she had been to associate with, and their grief at her loss. Then they tried to forget her. After all, almost two hundred of her sisters had died before her; it was hard to keep track of them all, or to feel prolonged sorrow for each individual.

  Heem's resolve hardened. This was what unsupervised seeding meant! Never would he contribute to this dread cycle!

  Moon importuned him between and during copulations. "If not with me, with one of my sisters," she pleaded. "With Maan, maybe. Ride a flatfloater over the mountain. There is an even slope we can indicate for you, making an easier crossing. We could all go, and at least look."

  Grudgingly, he agreed. It was difficult to jet no to a female in the throes of copulation.

  'Uh-huh.'

  They scouted the swamp, and located a suitable floater, and made arrangements to get aboard it. Heem's prior experience would help them do it correctly. The important thing was not to get careless; they would have to spread themselves across as many of its intakes as possible, to that its suction held them secure. Its reduced efficiency, because those covered intakes were inoperative, would also help them to stay on—in sudden bursts of motion like those that had wiped out two of Heem's brothers.

  Then Maan was discovered, a quarter consumed. Slitherfear, again.

  'I am coming to understand your intense av
ersion to eating.'

  "We have the wrong priority!" Heem needled the others. "First we must deal with the Squam enemy, then go exploring. No seeding is worthwhile if it is only to be prey to the Squam, as your siblings have been."

  But the females were afraid. They sealed in Maan with ceremonial sorrow, and resumed work on the flatfloater. Heem, Meen, Muun, and Moon hid under the water in the place the monster most often rested, ready to board it.

  Experience did help. Heem knew exactly how to prod the monster to keep it from bolting. Their ride was successful. They cruised around the valley, then guided it back to the water and rolled off. Success!

  Next day they did it again with another flatfloater. The females learned to control it. It was really fairly easy, once the trick was mastered.

  "Now we have transportation over the mountain," Moon sprayed. "We can verify that Highfalls is vacant."

  Whereupon they would renew the cycle of innocence and grief. "We are dealing with Slitherfear first," he reminded them. He sprayed them with erotic flavor: he had learned how to make a convincing argument!

  "But we only have to verify it! Maybe your brother Hiim is alive."

  "Then there is no present point in going to Highfalls; it remains occupied."

  "No, one of us could join Hiim, and seed that valley," Muun sprayed. "It is the HydrO way."

  "How do any of us really know the HydrO way?" he needled back. "We have never encountered any other HydrOs!"

  "It is inherent," Moon replied. "We know what is fit." It was hard to argue against absolute knowledge, but he tried. "You call it fit—to subject another litter to the suffering we have had?"

  "It is the HydrO way."

  "Then maybe the HydrO way is wrong!"

  For that blasphemy they had no answer except shock.

  "Maybe," Moon sprayed at last, "we should deal with Slitherfear first Then the valley will be safe for our kind."

  Heem refrained from reminding her that this was exactly the case he had been arguing.

  'You're getting smarter, Heem.'

  But of course after the Squam was gone, Heem would be committed to the seeding. He had won only a partial victory.

  All three females were terrified, and Heem himself was afraid, but they did go after the dread Squam. Each rode on a flatfloater. Their plan was to crash the flatfloaters into the Squam, crushing him again and again until he expired.

  'That's simplistic. I don't trust it.'

  But Heem kept his private doubts tasteless from his companions, lest they lose nerve entirely. Taming the floaters had been easier than anticipated; maybe killing Slitherfear would be the same.

  It was not hard to locate the Squam. Never before had they actually looked for him, and he had no fear of them, therefore no reason to hide. They found him by a cave in the slope of the mountain, doing something with a structure made of metal. There was a strange taste in the air not merely of the metal; it was a little like burning, yet of no fire they knew.

  They charged in on their mounts, going for the freshest taste. Heem felt a cold fear of the monster. Yet that fear was what had brought him here; better to attack in a group than to wait for Slitherfear to murder them singly.

  The Squam stood still for a moment, as if not believing what was happening. Then it fired out its mechanical spray. "Shy off, or I destroy!"

  Heem suffered an acute memory of his brother Hoom, shot down at a distance by this alien. Rage suffused him, almost abolishing his reasonable fear. He needled his floater, directing it straight at the Squam.

  Heat struck him. This was no spray; it was like concentrated Star-energy! Heem experienced the taste of his own burning flesh—not acid-burning this time, but fire-burning. His floater swerved, dropped, and crashed into the ground, and Heem rolled violently and helplessly forward. That new weapon was potent!

  He tasted Moon and Meen and Muun gliding past him, orienting on the monster. Then he fetched up against the entrance to the cave and lay stunned. His skin was flaming with pain on the side that had been struck.

  The attack was being carried forward without him. Heem felt a surge of pleasure in the courage of these females, for he knew how frightened they were. The three swooped their beasts at Slitherfear. The Squam's weapon flashed—

  Flashed?

  Radiated. He felt the slight additional heat from its operation, and then the shudder in the ground as another flatfloater fell.

  Then came the awful taste of death and it bore the flavor of Moon of Morningmist. The Squam's terrible weapon had destroyed her.

  Meen's mount bolted. Heem picked up the lingering trace of its explosive jet, and knew she had lost control. Only Muun remained to attack the Squam.

  Muun crashed in, almost striking Slitherfear. But the creature dropped low to the ground, letting the floater pass over, then fired the weapon again. The taste of scorching flesh drifted out; then that floater was gone from perception range. Was Muun alive or dead?

  Heem was now alone with the dread Squam. But Slitherfear was not paying attention to him. Laboriously, Heem rolled into the cave, trying to hide, his burned skin hurting and leaking.

  There was machinery inside the cave. Heem had no notion what it was for or how it operated, but it was all associated with Slitherfear, and therefore was cold and hideous.

  Somehow the Squam used this equipment, as the HydrOs had learned to use the flatfloaters. Therefore, destroying this machinery might be like shooting down a floater. If he only had some way—

  Heem fought back the pain of his burn. His jet-pores remained functional, and his internal system was strong; his injury was after all superficial. He could do something—if he could only figure out what. Before Slitherfear returned to his cave, forcing Heem to fight for his life.

  Heem jetted softly, rolling slowly, exploring the situation with the caution of fear and ignorance. He knew so little about this stuff. Would a sharp needlejet in the right place have an effect? Or would it be better simply to push an item over?

  Experimentally he needled a crevice. Nothing happened.

  He rolled to the side, found another crevice, and needled again. Still nothing. There were irregularities all around the machine, but its cold metal was like the Squam's overlapping scales, proof against mere jets of water.

  Then another taste wafted in to him. He recognized it instantly, from his prior experience with the Squam, when Hoom died. Slitherfear was eating.

  And the only body the monster had to eat was Moon of Morningmist.

  Heem forgot his physical pain. He jetted forward with such force that he crashed into the machine and knocked it over. It crashed on the ground, emitting sparks of energy. But Heem was beyond it, caroming toward the Squam, heedless of any consequence.

  Slitherfear had extruded his stomach to consume Moon. He could not react with his usual speed. Heem rolled in, oriented, and struck with his sharpest, hottest needle, right at that extruded tissue. There were no scales to protect this organ! Again and again he lanced into that vulnerable material, holing it, cooking it, cutting it to pieces.

  Then, before the dread Squam could recover, Heem rolled away. Slitherfear was not dead, only injured, as Heem was. The weapon jetted its disaster at Heem, but scored only peripherally. It must be hard, Heem thought with a certain grim satisfaction, to concentrate on a fleeing target when one's innards have been shredded.

  So he escaped. He rolled into the swamp, letting the water cool his burns. He was fortunate; they were not serious. They would heal.

  A day later Meen found him. "I am sorry, Heem," she jetted. "I tried to turn the flatfloater, but—"

  "I know. The thing bolted. At least it carried you out of danger."

  "I feared you were dead. I tasted your fall—"

  "My floater took the brunt. I was only burned and stunned."

  "My sister Moon—"

  "Dead. I attacked Slitherfear while he was eating her. I did not kill him, but he will not eat soon again. Muun was also hit; what became of her?"
<
br />   "I found her body this morning. The burn was too much; she rolled off her floater and died."

  What devastation, from that brief encounter! The Squam had killed two, injured one, and driven away the floater of the last. How could they kill it?

  Meen suffered grief for her sisters. But soon the deeper implication came to her. "The valley of Morningmist is now vacant," she sprayed. "We must seed it."

  Not again! "I will not seed after the misery I experienced in these two valleys," Heem needled. "My siblings dead, yours also—"

  "But it is the HydrO way!"

  "It is not my way! I have another mission: to abate the menace of the Squam, the evil thing who slew my brother, your sisters, and my love."

  "We tried to kill Slitherfear—and lost all but us two. He is too strong for us."

  Probably true. Yet Heem could not give up. "I shall find out how to kill him. Maybe he will die from the injury I did him. If not, I will find another way."

  "But first we must seed the valley!" Meen was as single-minded about this as Moon had been.

  "No! Not now, not ever!"

  "Then I must go over the mountain into Highfalls. Perhaps your brother survives, and he and I can seed that valley." And she rolled away to find her flatfloater.

  She did not return, somewhat to Heem's relief. Had he seeded with anyone, he would have preferred Moon; her cruel death rendered him desolate. Now he intended to achieve revenge. It was all that was left.

  He studied Slitherfear from the concealment of the swamp. The Squam was sound-oriented, not taste-oriented, so could not detect him if he remained quite still. It was easy to stay still while his burns healed. Since Heem was taste-oriented, the air brought him constant news of his enemy's activity. So he had an advantage— for the moment.

  Slitherfear had been wounded, no doubt about it. He moved awkwardly, and had not eaten further of Moon's body. Even so, there was a certain sinister grace about him. His metallic scales overlapped, allowing his body to flex. He moved by pressing against objects and irregularities in the ground. He only unfolded his three limbs when he had use for them—moving some object, operating his machinery, clipping sections from plants.