She stood quiet for a little. He could guess how she was calculating. A thrush trilled, a butterfly zigzagged on gorgeous wings, a breeze bore scent of jasmine, the stars passed frostily by.
"What would you fain do yonder?" she asked low.
"That too will depend on what 1 find out, both here and there," he said. Might as well be honest; it was obvious anyway. "And also on how things work out once I've made the crossing. I swear I'll never actually betray you and your people, my lady. You've been my partners since Rinndalir and I brought down the Avantists and led the exodus. But I can't guarantee you'll like what I attempt. It may be nothing whatsoever, because no good would come of anything. Nor can I guarantee that what I may try will succeed."
It might not even save him from destruction, he thought. But no matter that. Somewhere along the line, every mortal man who wanted to enjoy his life must stare down his mortality. A download felt no such dreads to start with.
"I do promise," he finished, "I'll travel on behalf of all of us amongst the stars."
4
IN TWO HOURS outside, Fenn's party had seen Luna wax from a gigantic crescent to more than half full. Earth's three-quarter phase had changed little, except for its position with respect to the Habitat; blue-and-white luster that had been to starboard of the great cylindroid was now almost aft, blinking in and out of vision as the sails spun across heaven. Hard spatial sunlight overwhelmed all constellations. Any part of a helmet that turned in that direction darkened itself to save the wearer's eyes; he saw a silvery disk slightly speckled with maelstroms, each of which could have swallowed a planet whole.
He’o vectored the thrusts from his jetpack and soared. The specially built, legless spacesuit flashed through an incredible arc. He had taken to EVA like a—a seal to water, Fenn thought. But then, of course, He'o was a seal.
Lokepa Hakawau had acquired about as much competence as a man might be expected to in a short time. That meant he still wallowed clumsily about. His radio voice boomed in his companions' earplugs: "Auwe! Make wai au.''
"Huh?" Fenn grunted. He'd picked up a few words of the Lahui Kuikawa language—human Lahui, that is— during the past fortnight, but only a few.
"Hrach-ch," sounded from He'o. Laughter? The metamorph used his vocal synthesizer to form Anglo: "He means that this has been enough and he is very thirsty." It went slowly, for his voice had nothing like the range of a human's and conversation required an elaborate coding program.
"Yes, by Maui's butt," lokepa growled in the same tongue, heavily though musically accented. "Where's the nearest cold beer?"
Mainly the man was tired out, Fenn realized, but he wouldn't admit it—he, sailor and championship swimmer from the seas of Earth. No disgrace when you weren't trained to maneuver in open space, or weren't born to it as He'o seemed to have been. Nevertheless, Fenn resisted cracking a joke and congratulated himself on curbing his usual brashness. He didn't want to hurt this big, friendly fellow, with whom he had shared such unbounded fun.
"Well, you've gotten your taste of the outside," he said. The rest he must force: "Yes, let's go back in."
He'o glided close, braking, till he had matched velocities and could look through helmets at the boy's face. "You are reluctant," he observed.
Fenn gazed back into the big, liquid-brown eyes behind the muzzle and beneath a brow bulging to hold a human-equivalent brain. Sunlight set sleek fur aglow. He reads me better than lokepa does, Fenn thought. Are the Keiki Moana really as alien as everybody says? I s'pose. But that doesn't mean they can't be simpatico. I guess they've got to be, most of them. How else could they have stayed in company with their humans all these hundreds of years?
"I don't get too many chances for EVA," he confessed. "Uh, thank you both for this one."
"Thank you, makamaka," lokepa interjected from his distance. "You've been the perfect guide."
Maybe more gratitude was due Fenn's father, the boy thought. When this pair out of the Lahui Kuikawa group that had come to investigate the Moon expressed their strongest interest as being in the parks, waters, and wild areas of the interior, it had been natural to refer them to ranger-manager Birger. When he turned them over mainly to his son—well, Elitha muttered with a certain bitterness that it was an act of courtship, but Fenn was overjoyed. The excursions that followed had gone beyond his expectations. For that while, his inward anger had smoldered low, almost forgotten.
It began to burn higher again. “Why, can you not come up here often?" He'o was asking.
"No!" Fenn snapped. He tried for softness. "Not in the past two or three years. I've got my studies, and a ferry ride does cost, and, uh, there're other things that keep me busy on Luna."
"Aye, you showed me," lokepa chuckled. "A grand guide for sure. Mahalo lui noa.''
Fenn felt his cheeks flush. That evenwatch when the two of them and some girls he knew—Actually, it had soon been lokepa who took the lead, finding lowlife bars and other things parents need not hear about.
If He'o guessed, he had said nothing and probably didn't care. Why should he? He was concerned now, though. "No," he said, "if open space matters so much to our friend, then it cannot be mere pleasure that anchors him to the Moon."
He meant well, but he should lay off. “I go out on the surface a lot," Fenn said roughly. "And I've been on Earth too, you may remember." That was chiefly in the Yukonian wilderness under Birger's aegis. Historical sites, artworks, and other standard tourist draws, those you could experience on a vivifer at home, a lot more cheaply.
"Yet I whisker-feel your trouble is heavy, boldly though you bear it," He'o persisted.
"Don't smell at me!" Fenn shouted.
He would not have this gene-engineered freak, or anybody else, prying into his private life—how his parents had separated, the direct reason being that Elitha was determined to bear her second allowable child and Birger couldn't stand the idea that it must not be his, and how from their two sides they clutched at their son—and everything else, everything wrong, as far back as his memories went.
"Kulikuli oe, He'o," lokepa called. "Don't hunt the lad. Fenn, I'm sorry. We can't always tell what's good manners in foreign parts."
This wasn't the first time the man had shown a sensitive—and thoughtful, almost meditative—side of his own. Such belonged to just about all the Lahui Kuikawa, human and metamorph alike; or so Fenn had heard. It went with their Dao.
Still irritated, he said, "All right, let's get back. lokepa, stay put. We'll join you. Both of you listen close while I repeat instructions, then bloody well follow them. We'll be dealing with huge angular momenta. They've killed people who got careless."
Not for many years, to be sure, if only because few people ever came to space any more. Those inside Luna or the Habitat, even those on Mars, they didn't count, not really. Perm's eyes went toward the glare-hidden stars. The Lunarians at Proserpina and Alpha Centauri— and now fugitive stories of Terrans at three new suns, whole new worlds, and the galaxy open to them—As he had done before, uncountably often, he choked down his craving and concentrated on the business at hand.
Curtly, he explained his flight plan to He'o. Built-in equipment would take care of operational details. The two of them accelerated, a brief thrust, and went on trajectory, side by side. For a moment an infinite silence encompassed them, beneath which pulsed breath, blood, air and water recyclers, like secrets whispered at night.
"Kh-h-h," He'o said. The seal voice, not totally sub-vocalized, made a hoarse undertone to the smooth tenor of the synthesizer. "If I have bitten you, I am grieved. I humble myself."
Fenn's temper had cooled as quickly as it flared. "Aw,'twasn't anything. I, uh, overreacted, I guess." That wasn't easy to admit. "You see, I feel kind of bad because you fellows are leaving. I'll miss you."
"Come visit us," lokepa invited. "I'll show you places the haole never get to."
Perhaps misunderstanding an intent that was probably rowdy, He'o added, "Yes, we will take you into the life of our two
folk. You will find it strange to everything you have known."
The prospect excited. To Fenn, the Lahui Kuikawa had always been glamorous—not the same as the Martians, lesser still than the distant spacedwellers; yet exotic, colorful—yes, and in their quiet way, a power, the geographical reach of their polity covering the whole mid-Pacific Ocean—islands, surf-riding, ships that were communities, immense aquacultural ranges and ranches, songs, dances, dusky maidens—"I'd certainly like to!" he exclaimed. "When I can." His spirit flagged a bit. "If I can."
"We'll keep in touch," lokepa promised.
"And you'll be back out here in person. Won't you?"
"Maybe."
The three came together. Again Fenn got too busy for unhappiness. lokepa was outfitted like him but, unskilled, he couldn't take much advantage of his suit's flexibility. He'o's rig was rigid, segmented but awkward, to accommodate the wetness he needed for comfort. Just the same, he required less help than his partner. Fenn maneuvered them to the jetsled orbiting nearby, got them properly harnessed, closed the cage around them, and took the controls. Groundlings had better have that protection. It wasn't against any mistake of his. This robotic vehicle did all the real work. However, an untrained rider could make untoward motions. The hurtling rotation of yonder mountainous mass was nothing to approach casually.
It grew before him until it filled half the sky, with Luna blocking off a goodly part of the other half. Routine and machine-managed though rendezvous was, thrill after thrill passed through Fenn and his heart beat high. This was nearly as good as bedding a girl; in some ways, better. Oh, if only he had a ship at his command, and leave to fare wherever his dreams might lead him!
"Request docking and entry," he intoned. "Fenn." He added his number. "lokepa Hakawau." He didn't know the Earthman's. The surname felt odd in his mouth. How many people besides Lahui hung onto that custom? Well, the Terrans on Mars, mostly. Historic habit, kept up because those societies were sort of outsider, not fully integrated with the Synesis? "He'o." He had no number for the metamorph either. Did they bother with it, that race? Yes, they'd have to if they wanted to draw citizen's credit.
No importe. The rules demanded advance identification mainly so the port could run through its database and determine if someone needed special services or whatever. Fenn considered the practice silly. Anyhow, his companions were marked out by their uniquenesses.
The sled matched linear velocity, closed in, made contact with barely .an impact, and gripped fast. Earth-weight laid hold of the riders. Fenn adjusted immediately. His abundant physical activities on Luna included enough exercise in the centrifuge that he had developed a fully terrestrial-Terran physique. His passengers, seafolk, had no problem either. The slipway took the sled into a niche where they could safely debark. From there, they cycled through a personnel lock.
Within the Habitat, robots helped them off with their suits. The humans shed their undergarments as well. For a moment, naked while they retrieved their everyday clothes, they stood contrasted. lokepa was a big man, brown-skinned, round-faced, wide-nosed, full-mouthed, his blue-black hair bobbed below the ears. He donned blouse, sarong, and sandals. Fenn was taller yet, nearly as muscular and, at age sixteen, still filling out. He kept his yellow mane cropped short. Blue eyes glowered from a visage beginning to turn craggy. His garb was just a coverall and soft boots. He'o, moist length ashimmer, flopped himself onto the motor cart that waited for him. It was equipped with arms ending in hands as well as a synthesizer, and short legs for situations where the wheels wouldn't serve.
"Now what about that beer?" lokepa demanded.
"Have we time?" He'o asked in the same Anglo, the same courtesy to Fenn. "I believe the next ferry leaves soon."
"If we miss it, we'll catch tomorrow's. In fact, better we get a good nightwatch's rest before joining the others on Luna."
“But we have seen more than enough of these ... environs," said He'o.
Fenn, who had shown them around the entire structure, asked in surprise, "Don't you like it here?"
"It is very interesting." He'o put some color back into his artificial tones. "But I long for your Lake Beynac," the stretch of water beneath Mare Somnium in which he had romped.
"Ah, you'll get plenty of chances," lokepa told him. "We'll be on the Moon for daycycles, finishing our business." He regarded the seal more closely. "You're not comfortable aboard, are you?"
“If ever we launch a space island of our own, I think we will want it to be different from this one." He'o turned his head toward Fenn. "I say nothing against yours. It is simply that its Dao is not our Dao."
"Come on, let's go," lokepa snorted.
The humans walked and the metamorph rolled along a corridor that curved always upward ahead of them. An illusion of green meadows under blue sky stirred, as if to a breeze, in walls and ceiling. Duramoss carpeted the deck. They were alone. Only their voices and footfalls sounded through the rustle of ventilation. What little regular space traffic there was went in and out the polar port and was robotic. Fenn had used a small side dock to give his friends the blood-quickening sensations of spinoff and a circularized return maneuver. As for humans, the permanent residents and the larger floating population— the latter mostly involved with pregnancy and early childhood—numbered considerably less than the complex had housed when it was Ragaranji-go, the mighty L-5. Their apartments, businesses, and pleasures were elsewhere.
A different Dao, Fenn thought: the Dao Kai of the Lahui Kuikawa, which had somehow become troubling to Earth—a philosophy, faith, way evolved by humans and seals living together for century after seaborne century—Wonder caught him up. "I, uh, I'd like to hear what you'd do differently, if... when you go into space, you people."
Let it in truth be not "if" but "when!"
He'o trundled silent before he answered, "As you wish. But what I say may be no fair wind for you." He hesitated. ' To us—lokepa will agree, if not as strongly— this shell is lifeless."
The Earthman frowned, scratched his head, and muttered, "Um, eh, yes. In a way."
"What?" Fenn protested. "But, but look!" His gesture swept past the pseudo-scene, reminding them of real gardens, parks, pools, streams, grass, flowers, fruit trees, bright birds and fish and insects, small mammals running free, at places throughout the whole station.
"You have life here," He'o said, "but it is incidental,. and parasitic on the machinery."
"Everything alive is kept in its assigned berth," lo-kepa added.
"But without the machinery, the, the organization— we'd die," Fenn argued. "This is space."
"Earth sails through space, yet fully lives," He'o declared.
"Look, aikdne." lokepa laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let me give you a 'for instance.' Back in L-5 times, a giant tree grew here. I've played vivis of it more than once. It was like nothing else ever. But when the colony disbanded, they let the tree die in the cold and the dark. Now when they've put this thing in Lunar orbit and are using it again, nobody's even talked about planting a new one. The cybercosm doesn't think or feel that way."
Fenn harked back. He too had in multisensory recordings known the Tree, the sequoia grown to a height impossible on Earth, the majesty and awe of it. Another memory stirred. Among his few dreambox experiences had been the cosmos of an ancient mythology— Yggdrasil, with roots in earth, in winterland, and in hell, with trunk soaring up to heaven, and nine worlds strewn through the windy, shadowy leafage of its crown— Yggdrasil, the All-Tree, whose fall shall bring the doom of the gods and the end of time... . The wind among those boughs had told him something deep, though he never knew what. Had any machine mind had any sense for the mystery in L-5's Tree?
"And, yah, the cybercosm's officially just an advisor and helper, with one single vote at the Conventions," lokepa finished. "But you realize as well as I do, it's what decides everything important. Plus half the tonnage of petty details."
Despite his ingrained resentments, Fenn was vaguely shocked. People didn't ta
lk like that. Did they? It was foolishness. Wasn't it? His education to date included the chronicle of wretchedness which was history until five or six hundred years ago—a bare half-dozen lifetimes. He hadn't learned only about famine, disease, poverty, toil, environmental destruction, the ills that technology piece by piece had lifted off humankind. He'd learned about the unnecessary horrors, slavery, private abuse, rampant crime, inherited hatreds, sexual distortion and oppression, superstitious dreads, and the institutionalized atrocities of government, war, regimentation, extortion, torture... . Humankind today was liberated. Wasn't it? If it had pulled back into a warm little Earth-womb, that was only because it was cowardly and stupid. No? .. . And yet the news told more and · more of unrest, demonstrations, strange doctrines preached to rapt listeners. And lately, those rumors drifting in from outermost space—
Well, maybe lokepa was feeling grumpy. He'o stayed with the main topic: "A home in orbit should be more than a harbor for occasional ships and a rookery for meek citizens. Ours shall be a world small but living, independent."
The seal was uttering discontent himself, Fenn realized: in his low-keyed fashion, more forcefully than the man had. He'o might be ever so learned and philosophical and all the rest—his species had had many generations to become civilized—but down underneath he remained a fighter, a hunter. At home he often chased down live fish and caught them in his jaws to eat. The scars on his flanks, which he'd disdained to have erased—
The Fleet of Stars Page 5