Adiamante

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  As Coordinator, I had to do the speaking, and as at the Hybernium so comparatively few days earlier, I didn’t want to.

  “We are sending you home to Gates, and we’re providing a ship as a symbol of trust. That is because the key to the universe, the key to survival, is trust. Trust is acting in good faith when you have no reason so to act. Trust is refraining from attacking an enemy first, no matter what the cost. Why is that wise? Because once any person or society strikes first, that action sows the seeds of corruption. Logic, even pure cyb logic, is formidable enough that it can justify any action, no matter how base or corrupt, as necessary to survival.

  “Physical survival is not enough, not for either a person or a society. A society’s principles must also survive, and if you betray your principles for physical survival, then you have doomed your offspring and your society. Principles can be improved, and we have slowly changed ours for what we believe to be the better, but they should never be changed or discarded for short-term expediency. No matter what the price, we must do what is right, and part of what is right is trust.

  “The second key is mutual respect, within a society, and without. We have not threatened Gates since its establishment, and will not—unless Gates proves itself meriting mistrust. We hope not, but, as you have seen, we can and will act, and we will pay the price.

  “We respect the integrity of Gates, and leave you to choose your own principles and destiny—provided you respect ours. Fail to respect others, and you are doomed—one way or the other.”

  I stopped. What else could I say? Then I added, “Convey this to your people. As invaders, as conquerors, you are unwelcome anywhere. As individuals, as visitors, as friends, you are welcome on Old Earth.”

  That really was it.

  Dynise had dug up a decent hornist, and the hornist played something that brought tears to the eyes of Cherle and a couple of the marcybs, and it was over.

  As the shuttle carrying the cybs up to the starship opened its hatch, Kemra crossed the permacrete toward me. I stiffened. What else did she have to say?

  “Reasonable or not, Coordinator, you’re harder than adiamante,” Kemra said, her words coming from her mind, not her mouth, for the first time, and with a hint of warmth I had not seen in any of the cybs. Had not seen—or had not been there? “Not harder,” she corrected, “stronger.” She displayed the black oval I’d given her.

  With that single net contact, I knew … . But she continued, the words screen clear and rushing at me, hiding one truth behind all the meaning they conveyed. “I don’t know that any of us could bear the power and the pain …” she shook her head, “or would want to.”

  I thought of the million dead: not more than a handful of demis from the cyb-sluggers or other technological gadgets; of the 100,000 draffs blasted by tach-heads; of Elanstan, Rhetoral, Crucelle, Dorgan … . My list would have been long.

  “Old Earth really is the Planet of Death … . The legends were right … but, it’s also the planet of life. I have the wildflowers, and we can replicate them—all of them.”

  “I wish you well.” Each word was hard, because I understood what she had not said. What I knew and would not say, for there was no reason to, was that she would carry my child: strange enough since I had never touched her, nor she me, except once, when she had scratched me, deeply enough to draw cell samples—enough for DNA replication, though I doubted that had been her exact intention.

  “You, too, Coordinator.” She offered a formal smile, inclined her head, and turned. I watched her climb into the shuttle. In her hand was an oval of adiamante, a reminder that even the hardest substance in the universe can fail.

  For all our nets, for all our communications, humans—cybs or demis—are aliens, aliens to each other, and to the universe, and that is why we must trust.

  I watched, standing beside the white tower that was the image of the one that had stood in Parwon, a tower that was now melted white and black glass rising at the edge of steaming ruins.

  The hatch slid shut, and Kemra was gone, and so were the cybs, and so was the conflict—until the next set of aliens.

  Why do we wait? How could we do otherwise?

  I shook my head. There was rebuilding to do—we’d need another asteroid satellite defense net, and that meant moving another dozen or more nickel-iron asteroids into the ell spaces. Given the amount of coercion I’d employed as Coordinator, I was going to be busy at that, and satellite development and maintenance for a long, long, time—maybe the rest of my life.

  The cybs—or someone—would be back, but it would be long enough that the next time it would be someone else’s problem.

  Arielle looked toward me, and I pulsed at her. “Not for a moment.”

  I walked up the permacrete to the north, into the wind, away from the others. There was one other thing that I’d put off too long. A locial landing strip wasn’t perfect, but nowhere would ever be perfect. I took a deep breath and pushed out a tentative pulse on the shaky, but now-functioning uppernet.

  “Yslena?”

  “Father! You’re there!”

  “Not exactly. I’m temporarily in Klamat.”

  “Oh … the send-off for the cybs. I should have guessed. I should have watched.”

  “Nothing exciting. I gave a short sermon on trust and mutual respect. A trumpet played, and they’re shuttling up to the ship.”

  “You make it sound so unimportant.”

  “It is. What’s important is what I’ve put off for too long. What I never quite said to your mother, but I didn’t have to because she knew. You and I, we need the words.” I paused, struggling, “I’ll be going back to Deseret. There’s not much left of the house, except black glass, but I’m well. Tired, but doing all right. There won’t be much free time—and I owe so much comptime I’ll spend the rest of my life doing tech maintenance, but that’s all right. There’ll be another house, in time.

  “I don’t have much to say, except the important thing—I love you. I always have, and I always will, and it’s taken me too long to say it, because I always let your mother do it.”

  “I knew,” she said softly.

  “Knowing and hearing it are two different things, and you should hear it. That I hadn’t told you was something that hit me. I was lucky. I survived and got to tell you. I might not have been.” I swallowed. “Since there’s no place for you to come back to, not now, I’ll be coming to see your reef, and, later, you can come back to Deseret, when there’s something there.”

  “That’s not important. I’m glad you linked.”

  So was I. We talked more, and the rest was interesting, but the important things had been said.

  After we broke the link, I stood on the permacrete as the rain filtered down like mist, and a thousand klicks southwest, Swift-Fall-Hunter circled the hilltop with the black-glass center, then swung out over the valley

  Morgen had understood; so had Crucelle; I had not, though now I did.

  There was another hilltop that could—and would—bear a home, and another set of piñons to run through, and another golden eagle … in between the years of comptime that stretched ahead, but the work would be good.

  Morgen would not be there, though I owed her more than I could ever repay, and neither would Kemra, for all that she and the cybs had forced me to return to life—but Yslena would be, and perhaps others, as the years passed. And all would add to the future.

  Klicks away, somewhere, Swift-Fall-Hunter circled, and I wished him well, as I wished the cybs well—Kemra and those few others headed starward on their borrowed ship, and those who lived on Gates and elsewhere—hoping that they would learn from the events we had survived, but not counting on that either.

  I only counted on today’s sunlight and snow, on the rain that dampened my face.

  Tor Books by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.

  Note: Within series, books are best read in listed order.

  ——

  THE IMAGER PORTFOLIO

  The continent of S
olidar—once Lydar—is home to a strange and rare breed of magic user. Imagers can bring into being almost anything they can imagine…but their power is dangerous to themselves as well as to others, and their life expectancy is short. Because they are both feared and vulnerable, imagers must live separately from the rest of society. Some are exploited by ordinary people with political and economic power…while others are wise enough to build a future when their powers may put to the service of the common good.

  Imager

  Imager’s Challenge

  Imager’s Intrigue

  Scholar

  Princeps

  Imager’s Battalion

  Antiagon Fire

  Rex Regis

  Madness in Solidar (forthcoming)

  THE COREAN CHRONICLES

  Corus today is a world of contending countries, of struggling humans, strange animals, and elusive supernatural creatures. It is still a place of magical powers, but only a few people are Talented enough to use them. Alucius is one of those people. With Corus changing again, Alucius and his Talent will have a central role to play.

  Legacies

  Darknesses

  Scepters

  Alector’s Choice

  Cadmian’s Choice

  Soarer’s Choice

  The Lord-Protector’s Daughter

  Lady-Protector

  THE SAGA OF RECLUCE

  L. E. Modesitt, Jr.'s bestselling fantasy novels set in the magical world of Recluce are among the most popular in contemporary fantasy. Each tells an independent story that nevertheless reverberates though all the other Recluce novels to deepen and enrich the reading experience.

  The Magic of Recluce

  The Towers of the Sunset

  The Magic Engineer

  The Order War

  The Death of Chaos

  Fall of Angels

  The Chaos Balance

  The White Order

  Colors of Chaos

  Magi’i of Cyador

  Scion of Cyador

  Wellspring of Chaos

  Ordermaster

  Natural Ordermage

  Mage-Guard of Hamor

  Arms-Commander

  Cyador’s Heirs

  Heritage of Cyador (forthcoming)

  THE SPELLSONG CYCLE

  When Anna Marshall is transported from her boring and frustrating life in Ames, Iowa, to the very different world of Erde, she finds out that for the first time in her life she’s uniquely powerful. In Iowa Anna was a music instructor and small-time opera singer, but on Erde her musical ability makes her a big-time sorceress.

  The Soprano Sorceress

  The Spellsong War

  Darksong Rising

  The Shadow Sorceress

  Shadowsinger

  THE ECOLITAN MATTER

  Follow the conflict between the corrupt interstellar Empire and the Ecolitan Institute of the planet Accord. The Institute must fight—first for their independence, and then to prevent the worst disaster in human history.

  Empire & Ecolitan (comprising The Ecolitan Operation and The Ecologic Secession)

  Ecolitan Prime (comprising The Ecologic Envoy and The Ecolitan Engine)

  THE FOREVER HERO TRILOGY

  Modesitt’s first major work. In the future, Earth is a desolate ruin, until its degenerate human outcasts kidnap a boy of immense native intelligence and determination—who grows up to become the force behind a plan to make Earth flower again.

  The Forever Hero (comprising Dawn for a Distant Earth, The Silent Warrior, and In Endless Twilight)

  THE GHOST BOOKS

  In this alternate history world, the United States never came into existence, Russia is still ruled by the Romanovs, and ghosts are not mere superstition but have a literal physical reality—and political implications. Your crimes can haunt you, and the ghosts of your crimes are visible to others.

  Of Tangible Ghosts

  The Ghost of the Revelator

  Ghost of the White Nights

  Ghosts of Columbia (comprising Of Tangible Ghosts and The Ghost of the Revelator)

  OTHER NOVELS

  The Hammer of Darkness

  The Parafaith War

  Adiamante

  Gravity Dreams

  The Octagonal Raven

  Archform: Beauty

  The Ethos Effect

  Flash

  The Eternity Artifact

  The Elysium Commission

  Viewpoints Critical

  Haze

  Empress of Eternity

  Timegods’ World (comprising Timediver’s Dawn and The Timegod)

  The One-Eyed Man

  ——

  Sign up for author updates at: tor-forge.com/author/lemodesittjr

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ADIAMANTE

  Copyright © 1996 by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by David G. Hartwell

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  Cover art by Kevin Murphy

  eISBN 9781429954563

  First eBook Edition : June 2011

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 96-16114

  First Edition: October 1996

  First Mass Market Edition: March 1998