Starborn and Godsons

by Larry Niven

Nnedi raised her hand. “What do you need from us?”

  “Volunteers. It’s time we took our planet back.”

  All over camp, Starborn and Godsons were conferring, checking equipment and refining scan maps, making preparations.

  “Why are you coming with us, Marco?” Joanie asked.

  He gave a lop-sided and rather endearing grin. “Adventure.” The grin looked practiced. Smile number three for camera two, Marco . . .

  “This isn’t adventure for us. It’s everything.”

  “Well . . .” He stopped packing clothes into a khaki duffle and considered. “I gave up everything for adventure.”

  “I thought it was destiny,” she replied.

  “Let me tell you about destiny,” Marco said. “Channing Newsome was a great man. He was young when we started.”

  She said, “You . . the Godsons . . don’t talk about that much.”

  “It’s not a secret,” Marco said. “Not exactly. It’s just painful.”

  She sat next to him. “What happened?”

  He sighed. “We’d left Earth. Built the ship, raised the money, stocked the Starchildren.”

  There was a term she’d never heard. “Starchildren?”

  “That’s what we called the embryos. Really how we funded Operation Messenger. Five thousand dollars minimum for each of a million fertilized eggs or embryos. We raised over five billion dollars. It was the Exodus.”

  “So . . did something go wrong?”

  “No,” he said. “We did everything right. We thought. All went well until we received the message from Avalon. A few of us were awake, others scheduled to be awake on rotation . . .”

  “Like our grandparents. But that . . .”

  “Yes,” Marco said. “Ice on their minds. When we found out about hibernation instability it caused a panic. Our onboard computer figured that it was because of the cycles of awakening. So our elders sacrificed themselves for us.”

  “How?”

  “They stayed awake, Joanie.” A thread of wonder entered Marco’s voice. Suddenly a different man stood before them: the movie-star affect was gone.

  “I’d . . wondered about things. I mean, I was a major . . the major star in their firmament, I suppose. So I saw more of the inner workings. Saw the difference between the things said to the entries and those that the Faithful followed.”

  “Did that bother you?”

  “Not really,” Marco replied. “Most religions have inner and outer mysteries. ‘Outer’ stories for children, and ‘inner,’ more complex stories for adults. Things told the nonbelievers, and the interpretations for believers. So if there were discrepancies . . .”

  “Or absurdities?” She paused. “I’ve heard about something called a ‘God Knot.’ What do you think about that?”

  “What religion doesn’t have absurdities or impossibilities as part of their traditions? Miracles? Does the idea of a central source of life violate as many natural laws as a zombie Jew walking on water?”

  Ouch. She felt a flare of anger, and then tamped it down. “I . . meant no offense.” The moment of heat passed.

  “None taken. Not really. I might have felt some back . . a lifetime ago. But I’m too committed now. All the way in.”

  “You weren’t before?”

  He shrugged. “Thought I was. Sure did. My whole life was a mask, you know? I made my money playing other people. I gave my fans what they wanted. I married women who shaped and protected my image.”

  He gazed out upon the Godson village. “I was an industry, Joanie. Make no mistake about that. Hundreds . . maybe thousands of people depended on me being Mr. Perfect. Eventually the twinkle stays on all the time. I think I forgot where I stopped and the role started. It all . . blended together. I sort of lost myself.”

  “And then the Exodus.” Joanie wrapped his arm with hers. It felt natural. “You had a chance to start over again.”

  He nodded. “Yes. No going back to a world I’d already conquered with a lie. Whatever happened out here . . it was going to be real.”

  The drone was hovering over his shoulder. Joanie glanced at it. “Really?”

  “Well . . old habits.”

  Her voice got husky. “Turn that thing off.”

  “Why?”

  “Turn it off,” she wheedled. “For me. Please.”

  He did. The hum died down as the sphere settled to earth. “Done.”

  “So,” Joanie said, settling in. “So. You’re here now. Are you staying? Or going to another star when they build the second ship?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “This is a good world, and you just made it better.”

  “The idea is to seed the stars.”

  “Does that mean you can’t root? You don’t even know what’s out there. A thousand years on Avalon wouldn’t be enough to conquer this planet.”

  He chuckled, not unkindly. “Are you saying there’s a reason to stay?”

  She leaned in for a kiss. A delicious, slightly shy joining, and then the kiss grew more passionate.

  He pulled back. Her hands tried to roam, and he stopped them. “I . . appreciate the offer. And in my last life, I would have jumped for it.”

  “Why not now?” She patted the ground. “Here?”

  “Because . . oh, damn. It’s going to sound strange.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m too special?” She couldn’t prevent a flat, bitter tilt to the word special.

  He took both of her hands in his. “Don’t mock yourself. You are special. But it’s because out here, we’re all too special. Each and every one of us. In the old world, it didn’t matter. We had so many people that if you didn’t have kids, fine. If you did, then there was someone else to take care of them.”

  “I’m not talking about kids, Marco. Or even love.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  She smiled hopefully. “Fun?”

  He sighed. “I need you to open your heart a little. Listen to me. That was what I wanted on Earth. And I left that behind me, as much fun as it was. I can’t go backwards. I’m not even sure I can stand still.”

  “Stop the world, you want to get off?”

  “I got off. No, it’s like . . On Earth I was one of fifteen billion. What I did didn’t matter. Out here, I suddenly became about five million times more important. Everything we say and do has meaning. I’ve never felt that before.”

  She leaned back, as if trying to take him all in. “You’re a funny kind of guy. Part movie glitz and part philosopher.”

  “Do you hate it?”

  She shook her head. “I think I could love it.”

  “Love me?” There was mockery on the surface . . but it was self-mockery.

  “Would that be a reason for you to stay?”

  “It might be a reason for you to go.”

  “I’m just . . just realizing that we could actually be the masters of this planet. Not hiding, not living on the edges. In a year, we’ll have all the battle suits anyone could want. I want to go toe to toe with one of those bastards. I want to feel what Cadzie felt. I can be free.”

  “I’m already free.”

  She smiled. “Then you’re free to change your mind, right?”

  ♦ ChaptEr 29 ♦

  aaron in the caverns

  The lottery had gone without a hitch. A board in the main commons displayed names of those chosen for the expedition. Some of the positions were already taken: five Starborn, five Godsons, and slots for five volunteers. The list of volunteers was long. In both camps, volunteers packed and trained with power armor modified with lethal capacitor darts.

  Some had been modified for underwater use, and were tested in one of the protected coves while the dolphins swirled around them, smiling their meaningless smiles. They wanted to talk. Some of the contenders indulged them, using Cassandra’s updated translation program.

  Now the colony gathered to wish the explorers well. Zack addressed the gathering. “I wan
t to wish these explorers more than good luck. I . . we did everything we could to protect you. And it may well be time to let you go. This is your planet now. We’ve . . grown old here.” His wife put her fragile hand on his shoulder. She urged him to continue, and he did.

  “Our bones were always going to rest here. But some of you . . will go on to the continents. We have no idea what there is to be discovered. But what will conquer them, conquer anything that can be conquered . . is your spirit. The human spirit. If we have sinned against you, we regret that, deeply. But now . . we bless your journey. It is possible that some of you, or your children, will take the stars. Safe journeys to you!”

  Like dragonflies skittering above a wave-rippled pond, four skeeters, including a totally new one created by fabricators, rose into the sky, heading southeast across the ocean.

  “And we’re off!” Cadzie said, hands easy on the controls.

  “This is the furthest you’ve ever been?” Trudy asked beside him.

  “Yeah. Must seem sort of silly to you. Trillions of miles.”

  Trudy laughed. “I was asleep most of the time. This is an adventure, no question.”

  They traveled east across the channel to the continent, then traveled south along a jungle coastline.

  “And we are now officially further than I’ve ever been.”

  Her hand was warm on his arm. “How shall we celebrate?”

  That hand felt warm, strong. Tingled. “You strike me as a little different from the other Godson girls.”

  “‘The Godson Girls,’” she mocked. “Sounds like something written in the eighteenth century by a woman with three names. We’re people. We contain multitudes.”

  In seventy minutes they traveled another three hundred miles. Cadzie pointed down. “That’s our spot. We’re heading east and inland now. Skeeter Blue to Red, Yellow and Green. Heading east.”

  Crammed with people and gear, the four skeeters headed inland. In another three hours they found the place marked on their maps, and landed in a clearing. A skeeter was waiting for them.

  Aaron Tragon stepped out of the woods. He waited until the first skeeter had settled, until several aboard must have recognized him, and then he waved. A serious-looking young woman stepped out into the clearing, with two grendels just behind her.

  The grendels held their pose. Nobody shot them. Narrator Shantel was filming. Today there were three cameras ghosting around him.

  Captain Sven Meadows debarked, livid. “All right, what the hell is this?”

  “I’m coming with you,” Aaron said.

  “And that?” He pointed at the grendels.

  “Meet Hypolita. She’s a friend. And Delilah. And Josie Welsh.”

  “This isn’t happening,” a tall, lanky Godson said. Greg Lindsey? “This isn’t a stunt.”

  Aaron said, “We can come with you in the morning, or start off right now. You have no right to stop us.”

  Meadows turned to Joanie. “Is this right?”

  She seemed stymied, and Cadzie jumped into the breach. “I don’t know. We have rules on Camelot, but this is sort of the frontier. Principles, I guess, but no real laws.”

  Aaron stood firm. “So the question is do you want us with you or ahead of you?”

  “What are those things doing with you?”

  “Hunters.” He stroked Hypolita’s neck. “Grendels can sense their kind from further than your sensors, I promise you. Sense of smell. Oh, and Josie isn’t coming.” The woman with Aaron glared at him.

  “So . . these aren’t like the others? Is that what you’re saying?”

  The grendels gazed at them, curious but passive. Tongues flickering in and out. Hooked tails thrashing slowly from side to side.

  “Milked for speed. A little slow,” Aaron’s acolyte Josie said. “Boss—”

  “No.”

  Joanie seemed confused. “What do you think?” she asked Cadzie.

  “Talk to him,” Cadzie said.

  She took her father aside. The tame grendels watched. “Dad . . what is this?”

  He seemed less confident now. “I can understand why they don’t want me here. I expect that. What I didn’t expect was my own daughter turning against me.”

  She kept her voice cool. “In what way?”

  “You didn’t tell me what I needed to know about the cthulhus. Or what you did to Cassandra to protect them. Do you think they believe I didn’t know? Half the camp thinks I murdered Cadmann—”

  “You’ve never told me—”

  His scars grew momentarily more livid. “And now they believe I conspired to conceal critical information. Damaged our critical computer. Led to a situation where our visitors do not trust and respect us. They blame me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Joanie said. “I’m sorry. That was never the intent.”

  Aaron stroked Delilah’s dorsal ridges with his fingertips. The grendel stood still for it, but she yawned. Quite a sight. “So . . I’m here.”

  “You’re hoping that you can do something good. Prove yourself, and the value of what you’ve been doing.” She paused an awkward moment. “Redeem yourself.”

  The moment that followed was even more painful. This might have been as close to real truth as these two were going to get. So much unsaid. Something almost never seen on Aaron’s scarred face . . vulnerability. A crack.

  Joanie retreated first. “All right, Dad. All right.”

  Joanie returned to the others alone, face sharply shadowed by firelight, mouth set in a defiant line. “I vote he be allowed as part of the party,” she said.

  “What’s going on between Aaron and Cadmann?” Marco asked.

  She didn’t wait for Cadmann to speak. “My father was responsible for Cadzie’s grandfather’s death. Whether or not it was murder is a question we’ve never been able to resolve.”

  Marco groaned. “Holy shit. This just keeps getting better and better. Is he dangerous?”

  “I don’t think so. Nutty, maybe. But also brilliant. Knows more about grendels than anyone in the world. And . . he needs us. He won’t say it, but he does.”

  Aaron was sitting at the edge of the camp, just beyond the reach of their firelight, as if he preferred shadows to warmth and companionship. Three Godsons watched them at all times, weapons at the ready. Perhaps he was oblivious, perhaps he merely pretended to be.

  “Cadzie? Is this going to be all right?” Trudy asked.

  “It has to be,” he muttered.

  “Cadzie,” Carlos said. “I’ve spent the last thirty years trying to live up to my image of your grandfather. You’ve spent your entire life doing that same ridiculous thing.”

  “Maybe,” Cadzie said.

  “Well . . it’s time to set yourself free, young man. Time to be who you were born to be. It means letting go of the past. All of it.”

  He glared at Aaron. “And if I can’t?”

  “You’ll lose your life,” Carlos said, a simple, terrible statement. “I traveled across the stars to find my own life. Now I see I could have done that on Earth, if I’d had the courage.”

  “So . . what do I do?”

  “You have a great adventure ahead. Be the man your grandfather knew you could be. Have a great life. And . . .”

  “And?”

  Cadzie had never seen a smile quite like the one spreading across Carlos’ face. The air crackled. “And find me a goddamned grendel to kill.”

  In the morning the rafts were lined up . . and Aaron was missing. As were the grendels. Only his assistant Josie remained, cooking breakfast with exaggerated casualness, as if nothing at all was amiss.

  “Where is he?” Captain Meadows roared.

  Greg Lindsey, one of the two guards who had remained awake all night shrugged. “He left, headed inland. Took those damned animals with him.”

  Meadows vibrated with anger. “We will have words, later. You should have woken me up, dammit.”

  “I’m sorry, sir . . .” Lindsey began, but Meadows cut him off with a savagely abrupt wave o
f his hand.

  Josie piled scrambled eggs onto her plate, sank a fork into them and chewed thoughtfully, watching without expression or comment. Meadows pointed an angry finger. “Where’s your . . where’s Aaron?”

  “Went on ahead,” she called over. “No one said he couldn’t.”

  “Dammit, he didn’t wait,” Cadzie snarled. “He’s ahead of us. With no camera!”

  Josie said, “Yeah. I’m to say he’ll clear the way for us.”

  Joanie seemed flummoxed. “Is that going to be a problem? You didn’t want him with us in the first place.”

  Cadzie cursed. “It’s going to take another hour to get the rest of this together. I’m going on ahead,” he said.

  “I’m going with you,” Carlos said.

  “No. Please. Unka . . I need to move fast, and on double levels we don’t know what we’re sailing into.”

  “Are you taking power armor?”

  “If I have sensors and my grendel gun, I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s right.” Trudy shouldered her weapon. “That’s right. You will be.”

  “Joanie, Marco . . no mistakes,” Cadzie said.

  Marco said, “Hold up, Cadmann. I’ll slave a camera to your phone.”

  Cadmann waited impatiently while Marco worked. Now a drone camera floated well behind his shoulder. He felt a bit ridiculous.

  Overhanging trees shrouded the waterway. Trudy hopped in beside him, bouncing the shocks. “I won’t hold you back.”

  “No, I don’t think you will.” He dragged his zodiac out into the river until the current threatened to tug it from his hands.

  Trudy tested her handphone. “Can you hear me?”

  Marco’s voice. “Absolutely.”

  “Do we have a fix on Aaron?”

  “Tentative,” Joanie’s voice. “Through Cassie. His scanner is turned off, and there is a lot of overhang, but we know approximately where he is, yes. Three hours ahead of you.”

  “That’s good enough. Stay on that.”

  The zodiac handled the mild current with ease. After five minutes on the river, Trudy tested her phone. “Can you see and hear me?”