The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper

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The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper Page 32

by Larry E. Clarke


  She shuffled forward a few paces. Her bones creaked. Each movement seemed cost her real effort and perhaps some pain as well... Behind her she left an interlocking pattern of tracks where each triangular foot pressed down the dust. Across this pattern ran the continuous stripe made by the weight of her thick tail dragging across the footprints. Here and there scales were missing from the pattern of her rose and yellow hide. Those scales that remained were dull and discolored in the flickering light of our campfire.

  Sighing, she sank to a sitting position on a large log we'd been using for just that purpose. Her tail slid behind as she lowered herself into position. In the quiet firelight we all waited, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. At last, she began to speak.

  “Although I am eager to know much about each of you, especially you two who arrived so recently from off world (here she nodded towards Lady and toward me) Perhaps I should begin by telling you about myself.”

  “Yes”. . “Please do”. . . “Very good”. . . We murmured our assent and waited for her to continue.

  “I am the lady Vesseless Val ^ta, of the Kwajilli. I am the First Hatched of the great hoard of cycle 664,879. As the First I was chosen for many special honors, to be formally mated with the leaders in the great houses of a hundred worlds, to have my offspring number in the thousands, to receive an education to which few could aspire, and—source of my great pride--to be named a guardian of the Ways Between Worlds.”

  “The Kwajilli have existed and traveled space for more than 12 million of this planet’s years. For most of that time we have been keepers of the Ways. In our time stars were born and have died. Other races rose from the mud. . . reached to the stars and . . . returned to the mud. Wonders raised by the minds and limbs of sentient races stood gloriously for ages. . . and eventually fell to dust. Much have I seen with these eyes of mine.” She gestured toward her face, drew a breath, scratched at her shoulder, coughed a deep rattling cough, and struggled to continue.

  “We are by nature a long lived people. Many of us survive 12 x 12 x 12 of your planetary cycles. Though I have lived long my time is near its end. I am the last of my kind on this world that you mostly call Pachem. We know it as Searle. . . It is possible I am the last of my kind on any world although I hope that is not so. . . I do not know. I have prayed only that I might live long enough to see you arrive at this place, to meet you and to and fulfill my duty. At times I despaired, fearing you had perished on the journey. . . but here you are. I shall do all in my power to help you. Eons ago my people met a race who called themselves simply “the Elders”. They differed more from my race than I from any of yours. They were far advanced spiritually. They existed as separate beings but could at will share consciousness with any other. . .or with all others of their kind.

  Those who made the early contacts claimed to have been invited to join minds with them and thus received the gift of insight into their grand purpose. Over the years these tales of our first contacts became almost as much religious as historical. The early Kwajilli claimed that the Elders had not existed forever but had begun before the great spark which started the universe we now know. Their purpose was to tend the universe as others might tend a great garden. Their work, their pastime, was to guide and encouraging living things to greater beauty and perfection. In rare situations they also pruned a wayward organism that insisted on harming others. They delighted in setting things in motion then, with near infinite patience, waiting to see if the outcome was what they had predicted. While they could “predict” possible futures they could not “foresee” them. They were often delighted when the forces they set in motion had unanticipated outcomes.

  All things end, even the work of the Elders. The time came when they put away their tools and prepared to move to other work. Before departing they sought a race of beings suitable to tend the gardens they would be leaving behind. That race was to be the Kwajilli.

  They generously shared with us that fraction of their knowledge we were able to comprehend. To move about their gardens they showed us the Ways. They left in our care the means to open the gateways through which one might walk between worlds. They showed us how we might establish new ways as we deemed necessary and wise.

  In the end, they gave us their blessing and departed. For 12 to the 6th years we carried on their work without further guidance. Then came the time of change. This particular planet had made 758 journeys around its star since those sad changes began.

  A great plague broke out among my people. No one is certain which of the thousand worlds we occupied gave it birth. Some thought it had formed spontaneously, naturally. Others suspected that a few madmen in our number had spawned it while trying to duplicate secrets of the Elders. Certainly no one here on Searle knew its origin. We saw that it affected only us, only the Kwajilli, and that in most of us it would prove fatal. Those who became infected lapsed into unconsciousness. In less time than it took most worlds to turn on their axes we either died or began to made a gradual recovery over many, many days..

  For almost 188 of this planet’s years scientists sought a cure. Worlds were quarantined. The ways between the stars were closed. Then as suddenly as it had began the plague stopped. The people rejoiced and the gateways were reopened. Free travel was resumed and the pent-up commerce of centuries flowed to every sector of know space. The plague had been conquered.

  In my middle age I was posted to this planet, chief technician, for transport facilities. I was charged with servicing machines that seldom needed servicing. I served here happily with my friends and hatchlings about me. The native population of this little world knew little of our existence and cared less. Our values dictated we do our best not to disturb them.

  Travelers brought news from almost a hundred advanced worlds each day. Each arrived naked. If personal modesty dictated each received a temporary garment before boarding fast shuttles to the terminal which lies just beyond that ridge”, She gestured casually in the direction we had just traveled. “From here they departed in great numbers for their ultimate destinations. You see, Searle or if you prefer 'Pachem' is almost ideally situated in the flux of space/time to be a transfer point for multiple gateways.

  The Elders had designed their portals to pass any type of matter, but the Kwajili soon found there were advantages two parallel systems, one for sentient beings and the other for the very carefully monitored transfer of trade goods.

  On Pachem the system was primarily designed for personal travel. We, Kwajilli, had some capacity to bring in building materials, spare parts for the gateways and other items essential to the operation. Everyone else arrived and departed naked. Only the ideas and memories locked in the minds of the travelers could pass between the worlds. No race could raise an instrument of destruction against another. No world’s goods could be taken except where the mutual benefit was clear. Ideas alone flowed freely. Those beings that yearned for learning and for experience with other cultures would spread the best ideas from one world to the next. It was an exciting place to be and an exciting time to have the gift of life.

  With no warning the plague returned, more deadly than before. On many worlds no Kwajillli survived. On others there was word that perhaps one in out of millions seemed to have a natural immunity. Those who lived did not always count themselves as fortunate. Some envied the dead and in their despair decided to join them. Here on Searle all died within hours. My childhood friend Rassa VAL ^Gane , eight of my hatchlings posted there to serve with me, and all of the Kwajilli who oversaw the Ways died. With their passing it became impossible to operate the transfers. About 24,000 beings from more that 40 worlds were stranded on Pachem with no resources, not even their own garments.

  To send anyone forward certain key components could be triggered only if the Kawjill genetic code were present. There was no-one to operate the controls. It would take me almost 200 years to develop a means of storing the genetic material and making automatic control possible. By that time the stranded travelers had di
spersed. Most importantly, I had no way of knowing if the ports required to receive any being were operational.

  Travelers from so many worlds were stranded. A few more arrived in the first 12 of days. They carried tales of other worlds where the Kwajill operators had sickened and died, still trying to send home as many beings as possible.

  There was nothing I could do for the travelers. Stricken with grief and despair I locked myself in the lower reaches of the Arrival building. I gave up after weeks of calling the Departure site and receiving no response.

  Many of the high speed shuttles used to move passengers from the Arrival portal to the Departure gate on the far side of the world made automated emergency landings when the Kwajilli died at the controls. Travelers were sometimes stranded in the middle of the great salt, or other inhospitable areas of he world. The luckiest ones were stranded at each terminal.

  To maintain balance in the forces of in the universe, mass arrivals and departures had to occur at well separated sites. A small number of travelers may arrive and depart from the same unit, but this is limited by automatic circuitry. . . no more than a few dozens each planetary day. And even that small number is possible only then because Searle is so ideally situated at the intersections of galactic lines of force.

  Months after the disaster I took this low speed maintenance vehicle, designed only for moving supplies between buildings, and came here. That trip took many days. The stranded travelers had long since moved on in search of food, shelter, and a place to establish more permanent camps. All the Kwajilli in this place were dead. I had expected no less, but seeing the totality of the disaster overwhelmed me. I disposed of the dead according to our customs, made a preliminary inspection of the site and returned to the Arrival site that had been my home. I suppose I felt a little closer to those of my kind there, and it was my duty to return to my post. I had to do what I could to assist any other travelers who might arrive. In all the years since, there were none. I stopped expecting any. Then 12 months ago I emerged from my quarters to find that one of the arrival couches had been activated hours before. I searched immediately for the new arrival but found nothing. The next day I saw this one (indicating Petar) from a distance. He looked confused and frightened. There was no indication he understood how he had arrived. I judged it best not to present myself lest I drive him away. My plan was to gradually let myself be seen within the walls of the Arrival building. Ere long the other (indicating Lady Camille) arrived. Before the time seemed right to make contact both had gone. I spent weeks decoding the message you left behind. I understood just enough of it to know you hoped to come here to the Departure building.

  I came here once more on the maintenance sled to await your arrival. I knew your goal was to return to your worlds. I had not forgotten my technical training and set about making the equipment operational. Soon I discovered a critical part for the power supply had stopped functioning. The spares at this site had become corrupted and unreliable over time but there were working spares at the arrival site. At the risk of missing you entirely I decided to return to the arrival hall to obtain them. Her head bent slightly forward and her breathing slowed. Asleep, exhausted. We let her be. Most of us were too excited to sleep. I sat talking with Lady Camille until the “Stopsign” was well overhead. “It seems we are going home after all Lady”.

  “Indeed it does Petar. I have a warm feeling toward Lady Vess. She seems a gentle being, intent on carrying out her duties even at the expense of her own ease. With her help it seems very likely we'll get back to our worlds. My strongest wish is to learn enough from her to put the terminal on Ummmmmuuuu back into operation. (I still snicker when I hear the Lady Camille say the name of her world. It is a sound a Holstein might make a milking time).

  The next morning we shared our rations with Lady Vess, a name we quickly adopted and with which she seemed content. She in turn shared the food stores she had, assuring us that they were edible. . .if not “tasty” for any of us.

  We broke camp and at her invitation all climbed aboard the “truck” for the very short trip back to the departure terminal. The vehicle was roughly the size and configuration of the top floor of a double-decker bus. Up front was a simple control panel with a couple of gages, a navigation screen, and a sort of joy stick for steering and elevation control. After watching for just a few minutes each of us felt we could have operated the craft. Behind the control position were three rows of bench seats spaced rather widely apart. The Kwajilli were sizeable creatures and the spacing of the seats suggested they might occasionally transport being even larger than themselves. The rear 2/3 of the space was a cargo area. There were straps and tie downs in places one might expect them. It was a totally un-glamorous yet practical vehicle.

  CHAPTER 36

  It took less than a day to re-establish our camp. The tech team immediately set to work with Lady Vess and by the time we had gathered for the evening meal they announced that the replacement part had been installed, a circuit test had been run, and the site was once more in operation.

  At the evening meal Lady Vess noted that Lady Camille and I could be sent home as soon as we wished. . . but then she paused and continued. “I cannot know if others of my race have survived anywhere in this galaxy. Even if some have survived I cannot know if even one is trained in the Ways between worlds. My existence is drawing to an end. I have long pondered how to best discharge my duty to the Elders, and to those travelers stranded here so long ago. My conclusion--despite the risk of misuse—is that I should not allow the knowledge of the Ways between worlds to die with me. I propose to train all of you in the operation of the Ways, assuming you are willing to undergo such training”.

  The entire party sat, stunned. Palomas was first to speak. “How can you know we are worthy of such great responsibility?”

  “We cannot know with certainty who may be worthy. However, from all I have observed you are a group of intelligent and resourceful beings. I see your loyalty to each other even though you come from very different species. An old saying of my people suggests “In a burning house, decisions may be made quickly”. The candle of my life is sputtering, soon to go out. Either you will become my students. . . or you will not. There are, however, no other candidates. Please consider this offer and let me know your decision in the morning. Good night to you all” she ended before tottering off toward the empty room where she would sleep standing up.

  The rest of the party stayed late into the night, marveling at the opportunity Lady V had offered. We speculated about the almost unimaginable effects that a reopening of the Ways might have. Some of the benefits were obvious, others impossible to anticipate. What worried us most were the unanticipated problems which could devolve from our decision. We agreed that whatever we decided, it should be unanimous. Either we all accepted and began training or we all declined.

  A couple of hours before dawn Dhars suggested it was time to have a sense of what the group wanted. He emptied the remnants of a bowl of salted/roasted seeds left over from the evening meal. In the light of Paloma’s flashlight he examined them carefully before handing each of us two seed.

  “One of these seeds is light yellow and free of scorch marks. The other was scorched or blackened on a substantial part of its surface. Add a blackened seed to the bowl if you would decline Lady V’s offer. Add the un-blackened seed if you would accept. I’ll wait a short while to allow you time to consider your choice.”

  After a span of about three minutes he raised the bowl above the eye line of those seated around the lamp. One by one we raised our hands and dropped a seed into the bowl. I thought about what we were doing and could not suppress a smile. Omeera caught it and asked “You seem amused Petar. . .If you don’t mind would you share it with us?”.

  “It is just that I saw such irony . . . that possibly the most significant technology in the universe was being decided by such a small group of people dropping seeds left over from supper in a bowl.” The others smiled, chuckled, or nodded agreement.
Now it was time to count the “ballots”.

  Dhars took a white cloth, a sort of all purpose handkerchief, from his pocket and spread it on the table. Brushing away the stray seeds from supper with one hand he flipped the palm of his other hand over to bring the bowl down with a bang in the middle of the cloth. When he lifted that bowl. . . the course of the universe would be changed in unimaginable ways . . .He pulled the bowl away and begin to gently stir through the seeds with his finger. . . every one was light yellow, no scorch marks to be found. “IT IS DECIDED” he intoned. Around the table faces ranged from grave to broadly smiling, however, all had agreed. We were now Lady V’s students.

  Our training began early the next morning. Lady V gave each of us a flat clear disk about the size of a U.S. 25 cent piece. Inside was a small amount of blue-green material. She explained that each of us now had a small portion of her tissue. . . the Kwajill equivalent of DNA. With this DNA thumbprint we could access and operate any of the equipment which she could have accessed or operated. Given her high status in the operation of the Ways. . . that access would be complete. The discs also allowed any of us to operate the truck/sled.

  “Near the end of your training I will have more disks available”. I know that the life spans of other species are generally far shorter that those of Kwajill. Before very long you will have to train your own replacements just as I will train you. These disks will allow for that contingency. With these discs you may also take/send non living matter through the Ways with you.”

 

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