“It is at the space station. Unfortunately, we would not trust it in flight. It has been inactive for years.”
“Tell me about the evacuation of Adjuban. Did they get everyone off? Were they able to save everybody?”
“It’s a legend, Derek.”
“According to the legend?”
“It doesn’t go into that kind of detail. There is something interesting, though—”
“What’s that?”
“You may have just solved a biological question: Nobody’s been able to explain why our genetic system doesn’t match with the other life-forms on the planet.” He grinned. “Well done, Derek.” He was laughing at the absurdity of the idea. Then his phone sounded. He opened it. “Kobay.” He listened for a moment. Then: “Yes. Of course.” He looked up. “President Zakow wishes to speak with you.”
Tasha switched to still another male voice. “Friend Derek, we are pleased to welcome you to Tarka.”
Hutch had expected a video image to form somewhere. But there was only the audio.
“Thank you, sir. We are happy to have this opportunity to visit. You have a beautiful world.”
“It is good of you say so. If there is anything we can do to enhance your experience, please do not hesitate to ask. The director represents me and the world, and you may rely on any commitment he makes. Be advised we are happy to have you stay with us as long as you wish.”
“Thank you, sir. We have not yet solidified our plans. We are on a mission.”
“May I ask what that mission is?”
“We have come across a world with intelligent beings that lies in the path of a massive dark object that, in two or three generations, will destroy it. We would like to help them. To prevent their being killed.”
“I hope you can make it happen.”
“There’s a problem. We come from very far away, Mr. President. We were hoping you could be of assistance.”
“In what way?”
“We’re not sure yet. It will depend on your technology. And willingness.”
“We will help if we can. But I must be honest with you: We have long since allowed our interstellar capabilities to decline. To die off. It is difficult to see what we could do. However, feel free to discuss the matter with Director Kobay. And I will hope for a happy result. Thank you for your time, friend Derek.”
Tasha changed back to Shalon: “I’m afraid the president is correct. I cannot imagine how we can be of assistance. Have you other ships in the area?”
“No. Unfortunately, we do not. We need a fleet of vehicles to transport the inhabitants out of harm’s way. Fortunately, that world population is relatively small. Two or three million.”
“That is good news. But I still don’t see a way for us to help.”
“We had hoped that you might have a fleet that could come to their assistance. Unfortunately, that appears not to be the case.”
“That is correct. We have no such fleet, nor the capability to construct one.”
“Even if we provide the designs?”
“We don’t have adequate technology for that kind of project.”
“I’m surprised to hear it. Surely—”
“It’s been a long time, Derek. We no longer have engineers.”
Derek sighed. “I guess what we really need is to find the gods who came to your assistance so long ago.”
“Please understand,” said Shalon. “Adjuban is a myth.”
“Yes. Of course. Forgive me.”
“We abandoned much of our technology, as it became of limited use. Today, we have an automated society. The mechanisms with which we live maintain and repair themselves. We acquired the capability long ago to establish a world that serves us in every way we require. We live lives entirely of leisure. Except for those of us who wish to pursue careers. And those are limited. We always have use for physicians, for entertainers, for teachers, for artists. Everything else is taken care of.”
“By whom?”
“Perhaps I can make this clearer by informing you that President Zakow is automated.”
“He’s an AI?”
“Yes. To a degree. We do not have politicians. The president is programmed to ensure that his decisions are made in the common interest. It is not a perfect system, but it provides the great majority of us with meaningful lives. And with an opportunity to pursue those areas that are of interest. Unfortunately, we must deal occasionally with situations that require our intervention. For example, an area in the southern hemisphere lost a substantial portion of its population several years ago because of a new virus that appeared. We have a few individual researchers who were eventually able to devise medications, but it took longer than it would have if we’d possessed an active team.” Shalon paused. “Derek, can I get you a drink or something? Forgive me; it’s not every day we receive visits from persons like yourself.”
“No, thank you, Shalon. I’m fine.”
“So, what will you do now?”
“We’ll have to think about it.”
“If you’re interested, we have a museum which is focused on civilization’s early years.”
“That sounds intriguing. Is it in this area?”
“Yes. It is only a short ride.”
“Tell me: Why do you think your people stopped traveling among the stars?”
“For the same reason we stopped pursuing science. Because there was nothing new to find. Nothing to learn. We had everything we wanted.”
“You were lucky the gods hadn’t gotten bored.”
Priscilla’s Journal
If Shalon and his friends really believe that interstellar travel is of no consequence, that it simply consumes time and resources, they should take a trip out to the ocean world. Or to that star that’s about to go supernova.
—Saturday, August 16, 2256
34.
Who does the best his circumstance allows
Does well, acts nobly; angels could do no more.
—Edward Young, Night-Thoughts II, 1732
Hutch activated her commlink. “I’d like to go with you to the museum.”
“Best stay where you are, Hutch.” He disconnected before she could answer.
Shalon put his red jacket back on. They went downstairs and left the terminal. The black car was waiting for them. But the robots were gone. Apparently, he now trusted his visitor. Doors opened and they climbed in. He spoke to the car, and Tasha translated: “Take us to the Repository.” Then he spoke to Derek: “It’s located in the center of the city.”
The car pulled out onto the road, proceeded about five minutes into a set of rising hills, and turned onto a highway.
Hutch would not have used the term city to describe the area. It was more like an extended town, with villas and chalets that were simultaneously modest but alluring. Backyards were filled with children on swings and seesaws and a wide range of rotational devices. Giant brambles were everywhere. Lawns and vegetation weren’t maintained the way they normally were back home. Nature was apparently left to care for itself. Inhabitants sat in lawn chairs and on benches. They passed a lake with a handful of fishing boats.
“We live satisfying lives,” said Shalon. “We are able to invest our time doing things we enjoy, improving who we are, rather than simply struggling to sustain ourselves, as was the case in the ancient world. One reads the records of those primitive times and can’t help being grateful for all that we have. So many of those who lived during those years had no opportunity to indulge in leisurely activities. I can’t help suspecting that, when their short time in the sunlight ran out, they must have passed away with a sense of not having lived at all.”
They arrived eventually between twin buildings, five stories high. Each had what appeared to be plastic walls, large circular windows, and slanted rooftops. Their corners were curved. And a group of black-suited robots had gathered. It appeared that they had sealed off the area. Shalon pointed left: “That’s our city administrative center.” Three lines of exotic symbols
were emblazoned on a sign beside the front doors. “And that one”—on the opposite side of the road—“is the Bokana Historical Repository.”
The car doors opened. They got out and walked toward the entrance. “Beautiful architecture,” Derek said.
Shalon smiled. He spoke to the doors and they opened. They went inside and the director said something to a blue box mounted on the wall to their right. The box responded: “We are pleased to welcome you, Director Kobay. And Derek Blanchard.” They proceeded down a short corridor into a large domed hall divided into numerous exhibits, mostly in glass cases. Lights were on everywhere. The area was empty, save for a few robots in gray uniforms.
The glass cases contained telescopes, cups, electronic equipment presumably from an earlier era, engraved blocks of stone, an assortment of guns, and numerous other artifacts. The walls were covered with artwork and portraits described by Shalon as historical figures, leaders, composers, scientists. There were also images of landscapes, space vehicles, and a nautical vessel arriving at a pier to a cheering crowd.
“What is that?” asked Derek.
“That is the Victory, coming in with a group of refugees who’d fled the notorious dictator, Selmin Kwerto. It’s from an era when we were engaged in our last major conflict.”
“A war?”
“Yes. Hundreds of thousands died. Fortunately, it was before we developed nuclear technology or we probably would have killed ourselves off. You know what nuclear technology is, of course?”
“Yes.”
Derek produced his notebook and brought up a photo of the waterfall, the one from the intercepted transmission. “Shalon, do you recognize this?”
His eyes widened. “Of course,” he said. “That’s Kayla Tor. How do you happen to have that?”
“It’s a tourist attraction?”
“Yes. On the other side of the world.”
“It was part of a signal sent, we think, during the evacuation of the world we talked about earlier. Probably by whoever was overseeing the rescue.”
“But, Derek, please understand, none of that happened.” Shalon looked puzzled.
“We thought it was probably being used to show the people on the endangered planet that the world that had been set aside for them was attractive. That they would like it. That they would be safe.”
Two children were staring at Derek. And then two adults came into view. Derek responded with a smile. One of the kids retreated. “It’s all right,” Shalon said. “These are friends. They are visitors who have come a long way to meet us.”
Derek said hello in the gentlest tone imaginable. Hutch was remembering the Volarian beach when they’d first come ashore. “We must look pretty scary,” she told Wally.
Shalon apologized. “Our security people were supposed to have cleared the area.”
“It’s okay,” said Derek. “I’m sorry if I scared the kids.”
Two of the robots appeared and said something to Shalon. “I think we left a back door open,” Shalon said before whispering into a communicator attached to his wrist.
Moments later, a loudspeaker issued a statement: “Attention, please. We have an unusual visitor with us today. There is no reason to be concerned. Do not be alarmed by his appearance. He is a friend. We suggest everyone simply go on enjoying the displays and exhibits.”
Uniformed guards who were not robots came into the area and escorted everyone out. Meanwhile, Hutch was distracted by statues on the far side of the hall and would have liked a closer look, but Derek had enough to think about, so she said nothing.
A door opened in back. Shalon led the way through it into another corridor. He took Derek to a side office. It was a wide room furnished with armchairs and side tables with lamps, and several filled bookcases. “The Repository director is very excited about your arrival,” he said. “She would like to meet you. Please have a seat, Derek.” He lowered himself into a chair. “I apologize for the way they reacted. I should have waited until the place was closed before bringing you here. Stupid of me.” Again, he showed those fangs. “I’m just not accustomed to having visitors of your status.”
Another Tarkan appeared at the door. “The director,” said Shalon. “She would have been extremely unhappy with me if I hadn’t brought you here to say hello.” She came in and exchanged comments with him that Tasha didn’t pick up. Then she turned to Derek while trying to hide her astonishment. “Greetings, friend Derek. My name is Zyra Vilani.”
“Hello, Director Vilani.”
Hutch could see little physical difference between her and Shalon.
“Shalon,” Vilani said, “I’m surprised you asked if I’d be interested in meeting our visitor. He just arrived this afternoon?”
“Yes, Zyra.” She extended a hand to Derek. “If you had left without my getting to see you, I would never have spoken to Shalon again. Where are you from, friend Derek?”
“Another world. Earth. It’s much like this one. I suspect you would enjoy it.”
“Perhaps you would be willing to show it to me?”
“I would.”
Hutch was laughing as she pictured President Proctor’s reaction to Zyra and Shalon’s emerging from a lander near the Washington Monument.
Zyra walked to her desk, but instead of seating herself behind it, she eased back and sat on the desk itself. “I’d like to provide refreshments, but I’m not sure whether our delicacies would work for you.” Her smile was unsettling. “We can experiment if you like, or we can simply bring in some cold water. Whatever your preference.”
He went for the water. Wally spoke again to Hutch: “How did the food taste on the ocean world?”
“It was okay.”
“So,” said Zyra, “I assume this is your first visit to Tarka?”
“Yes. We’ve come a very long distance.”
“And did you know we were here? Did you come specifically to see us?”
“We came across a world that had been destroyed, Director Vilani. Thousands of years ago. Its people were rescued and taken elsewhere. We’ve been looking for them. We wanted to find out if the evacuation had succeeded.”
“Please call me Zyra.” She looked at Shalon but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. “That is an incredible story. So, why did you come here?”
“We thought they might have been brought here. Statuary on that lost world resembles you.”
“Really? That seems odd. You think we are the ones who were evacuated?”
“I would be surprised if you are not the same species.”
“Interesting.” She turned to Shalon. “What do you make of this?”
“I think it would make an extraordinary piece of fiction.”
“Zyra, if I may ask, what do you know of the gods who were believed for a time to have brought your people from the sinking island?”
“Are you referring to Adjuban?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “What can we possibly know of supernatural beings?”
A robot arrived with a pitcher of ice water. It filled cups for everyone, inquired if they needed anything else, and left. Zyra looked at Derek. “Is it possible,” she asked, “that your people were among them?”
“I wish,” he said, “that we could claim credit for an act like that. But we were living in jungles when all this happened.”
“I see. Well, I wish we had some answers for you. You’re raising questions that we thought we’d resolved a long time ago.”
“I suspect they came simply because the inhabitants on that world were in trouble. Because they were needed. To be honest, we need someone like them now.”
“Why?”
“Because another world is in danger. The same danger.”
“I am sorry to hear it. I wish we could help.”
Shalon had remained quiet throughout the exchange, and Hutch, when she caught an occasional glimpse of him, thought he looked lost in thought. Now he entered the conversation: “Maybe we can be of some assistance.”
“How
can we do that?” asked Zyra. “We can barely get to Dovis.”
Hutch guessed that Dovis was a nearby planet. Or maybe their moon.
“Derek,” said Shalon, “there would be more to mounting a rescue for these people than simply transporting them to someplace else. Carry them to another world, and you will have to provide shelters. And make food available. How many of these people are there?”
“Fortunately, it’s not the kind of planetary population we would expect. I don’t think there are more than two or three million Volarians.”
“I see. So, if you could find a way to move the Volarians—do I have that right?—it would be necessary to prepare their new home for their arrival. We could conceivably help you do that. We have all kinds of automation, some of which, with your assistance, could be transferred to whatever new world you choose, and employed to ensure that your refugees could be taken care of when they get there. You would have to provide transportation, but—”
“That would help,” said Derek. “All we have to do is figure out how to get our hands on a fleet of ships.”
Hutch couldn’t restrain herself any longer: “How about we ask Emma?”
“The president?” Derek snickered. “No way she would be inclined to help.”
“It’s an election year, Derek.”
“I’m not following you.”
Shalon broke in: “Whose voice is that?”
“That is Priscilla. My pilot. She sometimes has grandiose ideas.”
Hutch continued: “We have a world full of lovable creatures that look like dolphins, and an interstellar program. Both need rescuing.”
“Let’s talk later.”
“It might be irrelevant later.”
He looked at Shalon and Zyra. “Do you think you could actually do that? Help us set up a new world for them?”
Shalon responded: “As I’m sure you realize, Derek, I’m not in a position to make that kind of decision. We’d have to get approval from higher authority. The president said he would abide by any commitment I make with you, but that statement should not be taken too seriously. However, he might be willing to lend assistance. You must let me talk with him first.”
“Of course. We can wait. You know how to contact us?”
The Long Sunset Page 28