Michael Cobley - Humanity's Fire book 1

by Seeds of Earth

  of the forest Segrana, it was forever dusk. Through

  humid green shadows a trictra swung, long hooked limbs

  finding purchase on branches, heavy vines and creeping

  webs, descending into the well of gloom. Catriona

  Macreadie clung to its dumbbell-shaped torso, strapped

  firmly into a woven harness and uncomfortably warm in

  a grey concealing robe, feeling slight waves of vertigo as

  the creature dipped and swooped in the moon's lower

  gravity. In front, Pgal the herder sat easily in the notch

  behind the trictra's head, directing it with prods to either

  of its frontal joints or with single-syllable cries.

  Periodically, Pgal glanced back with his doleful eyes in a

  wordless query but Catriona, despite her discomfort,

  would shake her head and point onward and downward.

  The hunt was on and she was not for turning back.

  Clouds of insects parted and swirled in their wake

  while innumerable creatures noticed the disturbance of

  their passing, mammalian kizpi, their large eyes staring

  from leafy niches, or umisk lizards startled and darting

  away. It was an exhilarating display of Segrana's biodi-

  versity, which Catriona had charted and studied for

  nearly two years, filling scores of datacubes with pro-

  files, reports and commentaries, as well as hundreds of

  images. She had seen how liexaformity was a trait

  common to different species, and how some subspecies

  exhibited tripartite or even quadripartite life cycles,

  changing their physical attributes as they aged, while

  others did not. She understood how the vast, continent-

  spanning biomass of Segrana shielded its multifarious

  denizens from the moon Nivyesta's weather patterns,

  regulating the many microclimates found beneath its

  canopy, while the lower gravity aided the growth of

  wider, taller trees and other plants.

  She also knew that the map was not the territory and

  that Segrana hid many secrets. Satellite surveys con-

  firmed that while Segrana's topmost extremities grew

  to nearly a mile above sea level, some of the unseen val-

  leys fell to almost two miles below, which implied that

  the forest's roots went even deeper, an ancient and ubiq-

  uitous grasp. Almost half an hour after receiving the

  trip signal it was down there that Catriona was headed,

  seeking proof for a wild theory.

  To either side massive trunks sloped up towards the

  light, some spiralling around each other for strength and

  support, others criss-crossing to form junctions where

  Uvovo villages nestled, glowing clusters of lamps and

  conical roofs, indistinct figures walking or climbing

  from dwelling to dwelling amid the entwining dimness.

  One such township lay directly below, but Catriona had

  given Pgal clear instructions earlier and he was swift to

  guide their trictra off to one side, behind a dense screen

  of cultivated symbiotic flora. She tugged on the cowl of

  her baggy robe, keeping her human features concealed

  from any chance Uvovo observer. Yet they were still

  taking risks, since only Listeners went about the under-

  forest swathed in this manner.

  Moments later the village was behind them as they

  plunged on into the depths. From beneath her robe she

  took a small direction-finder orb then tapped Pgal's

  shoulder.

  'Leftward a little,' she said.

  The Uvovo herder just nodded and guided the spidery

  trictra down one of several long, thick vines. Like the

  mooring hawsers of some immense ship they curved

  away into the gloom, bearded with lichenous webs.

  Others snaked up the gnarled, mossy sides of trunks

  and branches like veins, leaching away moisture and

  nutrients which in turn served to feed a further array of

  parasitic plantlife. As the trictra clambered down one of

  these great living towers, Catriona looked from side to

  side, smiling as she spotted a familiar beetle or reptiloid,

  reflexively matching them against the entries in her

  codex memory. Whenever she caught sight of something

  apparently new she stored it away in her reminder file

  for later reference.

  All the memory advantages of Enhanced genes, she

  thought, without the self-programming skills which

  would have earned me a well-paid, high-level research

  post. Hoiv tiresome would that have been . . .

  Catriona was a failed Enhanced. Her germ plasm

  came from the Hyperion's cryostocks and had been

  genetically re-engineered to increase memory capacity

  and allow conscious, detailed control of information.

  The refined higher functions allowed an Enhanced to

  use their own cortex as a programmable computer , to

  from any chance Uvovo observer. Yet they were still

  taking risks, since only Listeners went about the under -

  forest swathed in this manner.

  Moments later the village was behind them as thev

  plunged on into the depths. From beneath her robe she

  took a small direction-finder orb then tapped Pgal's

  shoulder.

  'Leftward a little,' she said.

  The Uvovo herder just nodded and guided the spidery

  trictra down one of several long, thick vines. Like the

  mooring hawsers of some immense ship they curved

  away into the gloom, bearded with lichenous webs.

  Others snaked up the gnarled, mossy sides of trunks

  and branches like veins, leaching away moisture and

  nutrients which in turn served to feed a further array of

  parasitic plantlife. As the trictra clambered down one of

  these great living towers, Catriona looked from side to

  side, smiling as she spotted a familiar beetle or reptiloid,

  reflexively matching them against the entries in her

  codex memory. Whenever she caught sight of something

  apparently new she stored it away in her reminder file

  for later reference.

  All the memory advantages of Enhanced genes, she

  thought, without the self-programming skills which

  would have earned me a well-paid, high-level research

  post. Hoiv tiresome would that have been . . .

  Catriona was a failed Enhanced. Her germ plasm

  came from the Hyperion's cryostocks and had been

  genetically re-engineered to increase memory capacity

  and allow conscious, detailed control of information.

  The refined higher functions allowed an Enhanced to

  use their own cortex as a programmable computer, to

  run macros and test their own and others' theories; the

  best of them could illuminate solutions with their own

  flashes of insight. But Catriona had been part of the

  third and final generation, brought to term by surrogate

  mothers at a time when anomalies still emerged at

  unpredictable stages of development. She had begun to

  lose the ability to self-initiate neural pathways at fifteen

  years old, after which the pathway net she had already

  created in her head began to desync. By the time she was

  seventeen, her peers were strides ahead and she saw her-

  s
elf as being no better than an ordinary kid with an

  excellent memory.

  And that just wasn't good enough for the martinets

  who ran Zhilinsky House, she thought bitterly.

  Yet this, combined with her obsessive interest in the

  ecologies of Darien and Nivyesta, gave her something to

  hold on to after leaving the Enhanced programme. It led

  her along a career path that proved fruitful and satisfy-

  ing, as well as aggravating when it came to putting in

  equipment requisitions.

  Still, occasionally she yearned for that long-gone

  fledgling talent, especially when trying to get her head

  around the astonishing complexity of the forest Segrana

  and the Uvovo's place in it. There was an underlying

  story or relationship to it all which she had only caught

  glimpses of so far. Of course, deducing the Uvovo con-

  nection to the temple on Giant's Shoulder had opened

  entire new areas of possible inquiry, but it had also

  made the speculation wilder and more tantalising. If she

  had been a full Enhanced, rather than a cripple, she

  would have seen through to the truth by now, she was

  sure of it.

  The descent to the deep valley floor took another

  half-hour, including pauses to rest the trictra. All he

  chirping, whirring sounds of the underforest, vhere

  most of the species lived, faded to a high, distant

  murmur. Down here the light was filtered and grainy,

  and the air was still, warm and very humid. The Uvovo

  call it Segrana, she thought, the living forest. I can

  almost believe it - this forest moon is itself an anomaly

  and its all-encompassing ecology constitutes a strange,

  beautiful world. Sometimes, it's almost as if I can hear it

  singing, feel it watching . . .

  Following the glowing pointer in her direction-finder,

  they at last came to the base of one of the forest

  Segrana's oldest and biggest trees, a titan measuring

  almost 200 feet across. Massive knotted roots showed

  through the layer of decomposing foliage that blanketed

  the forest floor. Quiet streamlets trickled among some of

  the roots, pouring down towards a still deeper part of

  the valley. A family of dumpy six-legged baro grubbed

  for roots a short distance away, while ophidian pasks

  hunting bugs in the mat of decaying leaves made rustling

  sounds.

  But Catriona's attention was fixed on a point about

  20 feet up the side of the giant tree. She pointed across

  at it and the herder Pgal nodded, urging the trictra

  across the surrounding root tangle and up the tree's

  rough, dripping flank. Catriona could feel her heart

  beating as she spotted the cam's stalk lens protruding

  from the surrounding snarl of fibrous lichen, rootless

  and creepers, and once their mount was close enough

  she reached into the wet foliage and retrieved the device.

  She grinned as she studied it, blew away waterdrops

  and leaf fragments, then looked over her shoulder at

  what it had been observing.

  Several yards away, six tall triangular stones stood in

  a circle on a flattened mound oddly free of saplings and

  bushes. Her first visit here had been brief and tense as

  her guide, an outcast Uvovo scholar called Amilo, had

  been terrified of being discovered by the Listeners. He

  had been equally edgy on their second visit two days ago

  when she had secreted the cam on the tree, setting it to

  record anything over a certain size moving in or near the

  stone circle. When she called Amilo yesterday, though,

  he refused to help a third time but did put her in touch

  with Pgal, a young cladeless trictra herder who was

  unconcerned about anything as fanciful as Pathmasters.

  She weighed the little cam in her hand for a moment,

  then pushed the lens stalk into its socket before tucking

  it away in a shoulder pouch. Yes, with any luck she

  might have something to prove that the Uvovo did

  indeed have a third stage in their life cycle after Scholars

  and Listeners, namely the Pathmasters, who were sup-

  posedly no more than folk tales. She turned to tell Pgal

  to head back to the canopy but paused when she saw

  him looking up, eyes wide. She followed his unblinking

  gaze to see a larger trictra hanging several yards over-

  head, clinging to the tree with a large garment-swathed

  figure perched on its back, one hand holding a herding

  stave.

  'Ah, Mistress-Doctor Catriona,' said the newcomer.

  'A pleasant surprise to meet you here in Segrana's field

  of birth and decay' As he spoke he tugged aside his

  cowl to reveal the ageing, bony features of a male Uvovo

  she knew very well.

  'Greetings, Listener Weynl,' she said. 'Seen any

  Pathmasters today?'

  The Uvovo Listener's smile made his elongated face

  seem skull-like, but his demeanour was full of patient

  good humour.

  'None yesterday, Mistress-Doctor, and none today.

  For they are only a ssu-ne-ne, a kind of myth or . . .' He

  frowned. 'There is another word in your Noranglic

  tongue - ah, yes, fable, an instructional tale, nothing

  more.'

  'As I've heard before,' she said. 'Not least from your-

  self, and yet I have come across other tales that give

  different accounts.'

  'Some of the handfolk of the Benevolent Uvovo have

  a more literal understanding of the ssu-ne-ne. They are

  often led astray by such things as that ruined stone ring,

  which was a very old but very ordinary meeting place

  and hub of a marketplace . . .'

  As they conversed, the Listener urged his trictra down

  to ground level. Catriona prompted Pgal to follow suit,

  and found that there were another three trictra-mcamed

  Uvovo waiting below, all displaying on their beaded

  tunics the circular symbols of the Warrior Uvovo.

  '. . . and so such imaginings should be considered

  with care. We of the Warrior Uvovo retain a more re il-

  ist approach to these matters.' Then he indicated the

  others with his herding stave. 'Ah, these are my way-

  kin - we were returning from a vudron contemplation

  when we chanced upon you here.'

  Catriona nodded, not believing him for a moment.

  'So you feel that I am wasting my time chasing this . . .

  arassu?

  It was the Uvovo word for 'sad ghost', and as she

  said it astonishment flashed across the features of two of

  Weynl's companions. The Listener, however, only smiled.

  'Just so,' he said. 'Now, since our destination is

  Starroof Upper-Way, we would be honoured to escort

  you back, Mistress-Doctor, if you wish.'

  Part of her wanted to rebel and refuse, but common

  sense reminded her of the minicam in her shoulder

  pouch, so she graciously consented to the Listener's

  offer.

  The journey back up the green canyons of Segrana

  seemed to take for ever. The weight and shape of the

  minicam teased her constantly as Pgal's trictra laboured

&nbs
p; from branch to vine-cluster to crossed-trunk. Listener

  Weynl stopped for a rest at a junction village that just

  happened to be the one that Catriona and Pgal had

  bypassed on the way down. As the Listener talked

  jovially with his way-kin she wondered if this was an

  example of Uvovo humour.

  At last the light grew brighter as they neared the

  canopy, and when gantries, ladders and platform

  dwellings became frequent she knew that they were

  near the town of Starroof. Insects glittered in the shafts

  of sunlight that angled down through the foliage and

  wafts of cool, fresh air brought the fragrance of day-

  blooms.

  'Our courses must part here, Mistress-Doctor

  Catriona,' Listener Weynl said. 'My vudron lies further

  above, in the Highsonglade. Please remember that if

  you wish to seek knowledge at the roots of Segrana,

  you should ask for guidance from myself or any

  Listener.'

  'My apologies, Listener,' she said. 'I never intended to

  give offence.'

  'It is more your safety that is of concern,' Weynl said.

  'Some of the darker corners below harbour predators

  that could devour a Human in a bite or two.'

  T understand your concerns, Listener,' she said. I

  assure you that I will take them very seriously'

  The elderly Uvovo regarded her for a moment, his

  amiable smile never wavering, then he nodded.

  'Seek with care, Doctor,' he said before tapping his

  trictra's side carapace with his herding stave.

  Even as the Listener and his companions continued

  up the braided cable-ladders, Catriona told Pgal to

  hurry. The herder guided the trictra up hanging ne;s

  and across leafy curtains, reaching the hammock plat-

  form nearest to the cluster of adapted native dwellings

  that constituted the enclave of Human scientists.

  Unstrapping herself from the saddle restraints, she

  climbed out onto the springy matting, stripped off the

  bulky robe and turned to Pgal. But he spoke first:

  'I not carry you again.'

  Astonished, she stared. 'Why, Pgal? Has someone

  threatened you?'

  It was the herder's turn to be surprised. 'No! - I go to

  Highsong vudron. Rejoin Warrior clade.' He smiled.

  'Very happy'

  Catriona nodded, understanding. Vudrons were

  large, spherical chambers fashioned from huge, empty ·