"We know from our orbitals that a small, ultrafast vessel, a so-called c-ship, necessarily robotic but very well-programmed, had swooped in, passed above Tharsis, and swept back into outer space. We had nothing available that could give chase. It doubtless beamed a communication down, compressed data, which the outlaws doubtless had means to receive. But what?
"From the material we collected after the attack, incomplete and often incoherent though it is, and from various other intelligence, we have developed a fairly clear idea of the content. The Proserpinans—or, rather, whatever coalition of them is behind this—urged the action and promised help if it was successful." Chuan lifted a hand to forestall any objection. “No, not direct military help. The absurdity of that would be self-evident, also to Scorian. But pressure could be put on the Synesis. That could include Proserpinan ships openly coming to the inner Solar System in numbers, as they have every legal right to do. They would assist in uncovering the truth and proclaiming it to all humanity. The Synesis, confronted by general outrage and questioning, would have to make concessions, or more than concessions."
He drank of his wine. “The truth?'' Fenn urged.
Chuan met his gaze squarely. "The fact that lies hidden in the Star Net databases, including the one on Pavonis Mons. What the solar lenses have discovered. The Proserpinans insist it must be something tremendous, about which the cybercosm and its few human confidants are lying. They claim that the failure of their own attempts to run the same search was due to sabotage by robots of the cybercosm, which strives to keep the secret because revelation would be disastrous to it."
"And Scorian bought this?" Fenn scowled, tugged his beard, and muttered, "Hm, well, I'm not intimately acquainted with any Lunarians, but I can imagine how he might."
Ask Kinna for her opinion. Thought of her brightened the whole wretched picture.
"Chuan nodded. "Indeed. The Proserpinans coldbloodedly egged the Inrai on to what proved to be destruction. What had the Proserpinans to lose? In earlier eras, any government would have considered an incitement like theirs an act of war. Without the moderating influence of the cybercosm, even the Synesis might be planning retaliation."
Fenn gnawed his lip. "M-m-m."
"This deed is only the latest cause for distrust. Was it really wrong to hold back the news about the ship from Centauri? That ship is bound for Proserpina. What may it portend?"
"Are you saying you—you actually want to play the story down, not to turn the public against Proserpina?"
"What would such a feeling accomplish except to make still more difficult the negotiations we hope for, to settle those old disputes and grievances?"
Fenn sat mute.
"Think, I beg you," Chuan urged. "Here you have seen the kind of instability and consequent grisliness that the Synesis exists to prevent—an ancient horror brought from its grave back into history, like famine or servitude or unfree speech."
"A filthy business, aye," Fenn growled.
"Do you and your peaceful, happy Lahui Kuikawa truly wish to get involved in such things? You will, if you carry out your colonizing project. It is inescapable. I tried to persuade you of that in our earlier meetings, and failed. Perhaps now you will admit that my arguments may possibly have had some merit. Whether you do or not, I hope you will counsel your friends to suspend operations until this crisis has passed, and then reconsider their dream."
"When will that be? If we don't start soon, everything will come apart for us and we'll never go to space."
Chuan's face seemed to say that he would share the sorrow. And yet he had told Fenn, as he had told Kinna and everyone else who would listen, that Earth was the only true home for humans and that mind, the growth of the intellect and spirit, was the only true frontier.
Fenn summoned up his innermost strength. "What is the secret?" he asked. "You must know."
Chuan went impassive. “It is nothing I can explain to you."
"Why not? Can't be just a scientific puzzle. That story never did ring true, and now, after what's happened, it's completely hollow. The cybercosm wouldn't go to extremes like that to head off intellectual confusion. It's hiding something from us."
"No. Not in that sense. Information is being withheld for compelling reasons. It is incomplete. Released in its present form, it would be totally misleading, and the consequences to society, to every human society, would be agonizing, perhaps catastrophic."
"In other words," Fenn snapped, "you—your precious cybercosm, its Teramind—you're treating us like not very bright children."
Chuan shook his head. "Untrue. It is a matter of responsibility.
"I grant you, humankind is still immature, in the sense of being far from having realized its full potentialities." His tone grew warmer. "How could intellect, pure intellect, ever wish to do other than guard and foster its own development everywhere? You know how viciously ridiculous the old fears were, that sophotects would turn on us, to exterminate or enslave. It is not in their nature. Can you not see the more subtle point, that sophotects would never want humans stupefied either, placidly passive, incurious and uncreative? When the time is right, the truth will be made clear, and the hope is that it will not be terrifying but inspiring, liberating, glorious."
"How long will that take?"
"There is no knowing. It may be as much as another century, or even two."
"And meanwhile we're supposed to live and die ignorant? Why? What threat to you?"
Chuan's tranquillity broke. He sprang to his feet, fists clenched, trembling beneath his robe. “Do you imagine the Teramind fears for itself?" he cried. "Do you imagine I enjoy seeing people I care about galled, frustrated, suspicious, angry? No, I will say this, Fenn, because I have said it before to a few others. It is a confession we would rather not make to the people at large. We fear for you—for humanity, Terran and Lunarian, for your Keiki Moana, for every mind we know that lives in an organic body. What we are searching for is hope—hope that we can give you. And this is all I will say about it!" he nearly screamed. "Do you hear? All!"
21
SO AFTERWARD IT was with redoubled eagerness that Fenn hastened to meet Kinna. When the door of her apartment retracted, for that moment all doubts and fears and rage dropped from him; he knew only that she stood there. She shouted for joy and flung herself into his arms. The hug lasted awhile.
When they stepped back and looked at one another, he managed to say, "I'm sorry to be this late. The session took still longer than I expected."
"Y-you're not late," she stammered. "You're better'n half a year early."
Their messages across space had kept him well up on her appearance, but he had never seen her quite like this. A band of silver filigree clasped the brown locks; silver also was the brooch on an antique-style blue gown that embraced her slimness and flared its skirt halfway down the calves; silvery were her slippers. He fumbled for words. "What a, a grand sight. Like a princess out of history."
Her smile glowed. "Thank you, kind sir. It's not my usual rig, you know. Special for the occasion." She giggled. "I got my hair almost ruly. But you're the sight that's interesting. How are you, Fenn? How was your voyage? How did it go just now with Chuan?"
The darkness in him stirred. He thrust it back down. "We'll talk about such stuff later," he answered roughly. “This evening is for pleasure. Agreed?''
She swallowed once, above the pulse he saw fluttering at the base of her throat, before she gave him a new smile. "Agreed."
"Then suppose we head straight off to that dinner we planned."
"Well, we've been salivating about it over the laser beams for enough months. Onward." She signaled the door to shut and took his arm, another archaism preserved on Mars. He felt the touch all the way as they walked.
Xanadu Crardens lay on the edge of town, virtually a separate construction, terrace after hyalon-enclosed terrace rising up the inner wall of the crater until an observation tower lanced above the rim for a view across cultivated lowlands and scarred
red desert. Night had fallen and a galaxy of lights had awakened, of every color, in strings and whorls along the fragrant paths, in hedges and trees, framing arches, irradiating fountains, cheerily blinking over dance floors and game parlors and fantasy rides, shining forth the names of restaurants, cantinas, food stalls, barely touching shadowed bowers where a couple might retreat-Music lilted from a hundred locations. Climbing sculptured staircases to the level they sought, Fenn and Kinna passed an open stage where a live ballet was being performed with a live orchestra. On another stage, Harlequin and Columbine frolicked through their immemorial pantomime. Folk strolled leisurely, uncrowded, enjoying an unreality older and wiser than any dailiness.
Fenn knew the Semiramis only by reputation, though that reputation extended around the planet—not that first-class live-service places were abundant anywhere. With Kinna he got a patio table. Jasmine in planters half screened it, white blossoms mingling their sweetness with sentimental background melodies. Near the parapet, which was near the terrace verge, it overlooked glitter and gaiety below. Above were the invisible roof, unbreathable thin air, and hidden stars, but no matter that.
The first sparkling wine arrived, accompanied by appetizers. Goblets clinked. "Here's to whatever," Kinna said.
“Ola me manu.''
They had been working hard to keep the mood happy, but it was as if his Lahui response, unthinkingly given, cracked something. She sipped, set her drink down, and watched him for a silent span. "How long do you expect you'll be on Mars?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Depends on what I can find out, and how."
She achieved lightness in her tone. "Am I terribly selfish, hoping it won't go too fast?"
He felt the blood in his face, and made a chuckle. "Well, the temptation's strong to dawdle." Bleakness pushed through. "The job won't be easy in any case."
She glanced away, across the faerie lights into the night. "No. Not after what's happened."
"The, uh, the events lately—they haven't touched you have they?" He was not used to feeling anxious. "Directly, I mean."
She shook her head. "Elverir—my friends in Belgarre—none were at Pavonis Mons." Returning her gaze to him, she attempted a smile. "He's furious at not having been called." The smile faded. "And he's sad and—well, I'm sad too. Aren't we all?" She squared her shoulders, brought goblet to lips, and finished like a defiance: "But he'is alive, unhurt, and I don't expect the Inrai will do anything reckless again for a long time. With luck, never."
"I'm glad ... on your account."
She heard the grumpiness, reached to brush fingers over his hand, and said quickly, "But this is in danger of becoming serious. We swore we wouldn't let it. Not tonight."
He snatched at the chance. "Sorry. My fault. Let's stay with you. Tell me more about what you've been doing. A much more important subject. Importance is your department, not mine."
She actually laughed. "Are our eyes mirrors, bouncing the importance back and forth?"
If she could be merry, then, by death, so could he.
"What'd you call the quantum of importance, I wonder?"
"The meon," she replied at once. " 'Ion' is spoken for."
He let his mind free-fall. "I've seen mention of some people on ancient Earth called the lonians. Did they buzz and crackle?"
"No. I've learned a bit of history too. The lonians were seafarers—salts that got wet."
"How ionical." He hadn't known he could pun.
"Ooh. Let's not charge onward." She drank. He drank. "But, you know," she offered, "I have seen somebody buzz and crackle." ,
"How?"
"Do you remember Taffimai Metallumai?"
"Of course. Your little half-wild robot. I don't forget anything having to do with you, Kinna."
He saw the color in her cheeks. Her glance flickered downward. Looking back up, she related: ”It happened on my last vacation at home. I'd finally—you might say coaxed her to come into the house with me. She was awfully on guard. She hasn't any predators to worry about, you know, but her environment's treacherous and here was an otherworldly sort of place. Genghis John didn't appreciate the situation either. You haven't met him yet." He noticed that last word. "He's our newest cat, replacing poor old Torpid Francis. Suddenly he pounced on Taffy, with no good intentions. It was one spitting, whirling rumplosion over the floor. We, the family, we were horrified. Taffy's skin and 'wings' are so thin. If Genghis ripped her, the sharp edges could slash him, the dopants poison him. I jumped in and tried to pull them apart. Something that felt like a qlub knocked me halfway across the room.- I vaguely saw Genghis boost off, yowling fit to split eardrums. His fur was standing straight out and I swear was full of sparks. Poor fellow, we found him afterward on top of the preservator in the kitchen. He wouldn't come down till we lured him with the ice cream we'd meant for our dessert. Taffy'd discharged her accumulators into him, and gotten me as well. She was very quiet and refined till we had her recharged—and outdoors again, to stay—-but even while she sat there, I do believe I saw an extra gleam in her optics. Ion eyes—oh, excuse me. Be warned, though, since then Tessy—my younger sister, that is—delights in calling me Kinetic, the Current Affairs Expert." He joined in her mirth, and the meal went cheerily.
Hand in hand, they wandered the winding paths through the lights and revelry. When they found a bower that was unoccupied and Kinna asked, "Why don't we sit here for a while and talk?" Fenn's heart jumped. He told himself sternly that talk was what she meant, and wondered what he could say.
Trellises enclosed a space in vines and flowers, which also hung down over the entry. A bench stood in the dusk they made. Specks and rays of color slipped between leaves. The music, footfalls and voices passing, the cool song of a fountain, seemed all at once to come from far away. Or was it just that she was right at his side?
He turned his head toward her—shadow softened the fine-boned features—as hers was turning toward him. They glanced elsewhere in an unreasonable mutual shyness. He thought he'd better break the silence somehow. "You'll soon graduate," he said, "and here I am without a present for you."
"Be there if you can," she requested. "That'll be plenty."
"I'll try." How I'll try. "Uh, you'll go home afterward?"
"Naturally. I don't know how long I'll stay."
"What?" he exclaimed, surprised. "I thought you intended—well—''
She nodded. Shimmers ran across her fillet. In spite of it, her hair was getting tousled again. "Yes, I've said. The plan was that I'd put this knowledge I'm supposed to have blotted up to work on our land. Maybe eventually I'd take over entirely." A fist clenched on a knee. "But I don't know, Fenn. Not any more."
He realized that she wanted to confide in him. For a moment it was overwhelming. "May I ask why?" he heard himself respond.
She stared at the leaves and light-flecks. "There's no single reason. There are a lot, tangled together. My parents don't really need help. They won't for many years yet, and meanwhile my siblings are growing up, and one of them—looks like Jim right now, though at his age ambitions and dreams bounce around like molecules on springs—probably one, maybe two of them, will want to stay. And the holding shouldn't be divided, not after all these centuries."
Her sense of tradition, he thought. Her loyalty. "But why couldn't the bunch of you operate as a unit? You're a close-knit family." Another rare anachronism.
"Eyach, I wouldn't leave forever. I'd always visit, often. Sananton belongs in my life. But to belong completely to it, when everyplace else is astir with newness— I don't believe I can."
"I see."
Briefly, she caught his hand. "Of course you do. You'd never settle down like that. You want the stars."
"I think," he said slowly, "maybe I could ... base the rest of my life on Mars."
Elation leaped in her voice. "You could, you could! Mars is a whole world, Fenn. You haven't seen the Ar-gyre Wildlands or the Crystal City in Elysium or the midsummer rites going around the Dreamers' Craters— Wells, Wei
nbaum, Heinlein, all the dreamers—or, oh, so very much. I barely have. And I've not been with any of it; I've never truly known it from the inside. And now when everything's about to change, when your people are coming, with the unforeseeables that will bring—I want to be there. To be a part of it, to help, to share it with you."
His whole being longed to join that hopefulness. Honesty gripped him, and he must meet her eyes as he told her, "It might not be pleasant, Kinna. You might be glad of a safe harbor at Sananton, and I flaming glad you've got one."
Ardor answered; laughter bubbled beneath. "You don't mind the risks, do you? Then why should I? I'd rather be out where the fun is. Especially when it isn't just your sea people coming to us." If they are coming, he thought. She jolted him: "The stars are."
"What do you mean?"
"The star people, I should say."
"You mean that ship from Centauri at Proserpina? But we've heard nothing about it." Bitterness: "Nor would I expect those two packs of Lunarians to get open with us Terrans. Certainly not in my lifetime, considering the distances involved, the hiding that's possible." Alertness followed. "Unless you've gotten something lately from your own Lunarian friends?''
She shook her head. "No, nothing."
He sighed. "You hardly would have. What do they know? The Proserpinans used your Inrai, and the scheme failed. Why should they maintain contact?"
"Don't be cynical," she reproved him. "You're too good for it." Enthusiasm returned. "But that's beside the point. Fenn, I don't believe only Lunarians are involved, even ones from Centauri. I said the star people."
"What do you mean?" he repeated, bewildered.
She leaned closer. He felt her quick breath in his beard. "I've been thinking. That wasn't a c-ship, traveling close to light speed. We know this from the clues we've had from observation, now that those details have been released—the time it spent under way. Everybody's assumed it had a live Centaurian crew. In cold sleep, no doubt; Lunarians wouldn't take kindly to two or three decades cramped and crammed together. But does that really make sense? Why would they do it? What could they learn or gain that they couldn't get as well by communications, and a lot faster? A handful of strangers come to Proserpina'would be—powerless."
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