Judas Unchained cs-2

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Ozzie was already leaping forward. He landed right on top of the figure struggling on the ground next to Tochee. The pair of them rolled over and over as Ozzie tried to get his opponent in a wrestling lock. Whoever he was holding writhed like an electrocuted octopus. Every time Ozzie grabbed a limb, it was torn from his grasp with above-human strength. Something like a thick leather cloak kept batting against his face. They wound up rolling into the bottom of a tree, with Ozzie on top. The tough dark fabric was slapping into his face again. So he just lashed out with both feet. He was no street-fighter, never had been, so the toes of his boots just connected with the polyp; the follow-up bounce meant his knees landed hard.

  “Ow. Sheesh, that hurts.”

  “Then stop fucking kicking, you moron,” a harsh voice said in heavily accented English.

  Ozzie froze. The leathery wing fell away from his face, and he was looking right at a male Silfen, whose narrow feline eyes stared back with impatience.

  “Huh?” Ozzie blurted.

  “I said, cool it with the hardass routine. You’re crap at it anyway.”

  Ozzie let go as if the Silfen burned. “You can talk.”

  “You can think.”

  Surprise battled with resentment. “Sorry, man,” he said meekly. “You startled us, you know, creeping around up there.”

  Orion had come over to stare down in amazement. He slowly pulled the pendant out of his shirt, blinking at the intense green light. He looked at it, and back at the Silfen who was now gracefully climbing to his feet. There was a rustle as he flapped his wings, sending out little puffs of the dusty sand, before folding them back so they formed neat creases below his arms. His tail did a quick whiplike flick before settling into a shallow U-curve that kept it off the ground.

  Ozzie patted at his own clothes, mildly embarrassed.

  Tochee slid up beside Ozzie and Orion to look at the Silfen. “I believe you said these creatures would not speak your language?” the array voice said.

  The Silfen turned to look at Tochee. Ozzie’s inserts caught it, but only just: the humanoid’s eyes flashed with ultraviolet light. A ripple ran along Tochee’s manipulator flesh ridges as it began to project its speech images in reply. They began to speed up, the two of them conversing very fast. If this is a simulation or a dream, why does it need to talk with Tochee?

  “I didn’t know they could speak English,” Orion whispered breathlessly to Ozzie.

  “Me neither.”

  The Silfen finished communicating with Tochee, and bowed slightly, blinking. The ultraviolet faded from his eyes.

  “Who are you?” Ozzie asked.

  The Silfen’s circular mouth opened wide, allowing the long slender tongue to vibrate between his rows of teeth. “I am the one who dances in the endless wind streams which flow along the tumbling white clouds as they circle in eternal orbit within the star of life.” He gave a sharp whistle. “But you may call me Clouddancer. I know how you humans have to be so quick and shallow.”

  “Thanks.” Ozzie tipped his head to one side. “Why the German accent?”

  Clouddancer’s tongue quivered. “Authority. I look like one of your legendary demons. If I start talking like some stoner hippy then I’ve got a serious credibility problem, right?”

  “Absolutely, man. So are you here to tell me what I want to know?”

  “I don’t know, Ozzie. What do you want to know?”

  “Who threw the barriers around the Dyson Pair, and why?”

  “Long story.”

  Ozzie gestured at the dusky forest with both arms. “Do I look like I’m going somewhere?”

  They walked back through the forest to a clearing half a kilometer away that they’d passed through earlier. Ozzie wanted a less oppressive environment to concentrate on the details. Orion was totally fascinated by a winged Silfen who could speak English.

  “Where did you learn it?” the boy asked.

  “Common knowledge where I come from, kid.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Here. Where the hell else do you think someone my weight can flap their way around? Jeez, what is it with neurons and your species? Is it a natural shortage or do you molt them as you grow up?”

  “Here? The gas halo?”

  “Is that what you’ve named this?”

  “Yeah. We were on one of the water islands.” Orion grimaced with the memory. “We fell off.”

  Clouddancer’s tongue quivered as he whistled.

  Ozzie had heard Silfen laugh before; he put this down to something equivalent to a derisive snort. “You need to put a few warning signs up, man,” he said sharply.

  “You fell off because you were hasty, you schmuck,” Clouddancer said. “You should take time off, observe your environment, work out any problems in advance. That’s the smart thing to do.”

  “Bullshit. You dumped us there. You have a responsibility.”

  Clouddancer stopped. His wings rustled, the tail snaking from side to side. “No we don’t. We are not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You chose to walk our paths, Ozzie, you decided where they would end. Take responsibility for your own actions. Don’t blame everyone else; you’ll turn into a lawyer. You want that?”

  Ozzie glared back at him.

  “How could we decide where the paths take us?” Orion asked. “How do they work?”

  “The paths are old, very old. They have grown apart from us of late. How they work is up to them. They try to help as much as they can, they listen to those who walk them. Some of the time, anyway.”

  “You mean they deliver you to where you want to go?”

  “Oh, no. They rarely change; they don’t like change. Most simply remain closed. It’s kinda sad when they do that, but there are always new ones opening. You’ve always got to go forward, right? That’s something we’ve all got in common.”

  “Do you mean…” Orion shot a glance at Ozzie for reassurance. “If I wanted to find Mom and Dad, they’d take me there eventually?”

  “They might. That’s kind of an elusive goal you’ve got there, kid.”

  “Do you know where my mom and dad are?”

  “Long way from here, that’s for sure.”

  “They’re alive!” the incredulous boy cried.

  “Yeah yeah, they’re still knocking around.”

  Orion started crying, tears smearing the dirt on his cheeks.

  “Friend Orion,” Tochee said, “I am pleased for you.” It reached out with a tentacle and touched Orion’s shoulder. Orion gave the manipulator flesh a quick grateful squeeze.

  “Good news, man. The greatest.” Ozzie put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, hugging him. “I hope you’re right,” he said in a warning tone to Clouddancer.

  The Silfen shrugged, ruffling his wings.

  “When this is over, I’m going to set out again and find them,” Orion announced. “I know what I’m doing now. I can survive out here. I’ll get myself some decent equipment first, though.” He looked down at his feet. “And boots.”

  “I’ll buy you the best,” Ozzie said. “Promise, man.”

  The clearing had a covering of thick mossy grass. Strong sunlight from the overhead star shone down, dappling the edges. Ozzie slung his pack to the ground, and sat with his back against it. Orion was too excited to sit; he paced about, grinning every time he looked up at the vast sky.

  Ozzie held his water bottle out to Clouddancer. “Drink?”

  “Water? Shit, no. You got any decent booze?” The winged Silfen crouched on the spongy ground opposite Ozzie. His tongue flicked out with reptilian speed.

  “I didn’t bring any. I figured I needed to stay sober for this.”

  “Okay, good call. You want to start the twenty questions routine now?”

  “Sure. I’ve earned that right.”

  Clouddancer managed a very human-sounding snort without using his tongue.

  “Did you put the barriers around the Dyson Pair?” Ozzie asked. This wasn’t quite how he’d envisaged the end
to his journey, the historic moment of contact with the real Silfen. There was a certain daydream that had him in an ancient cathedrallike alien library, maybe an abandoned one, where he roamed the aisles, reactivating computers with huge banks of flashing lights. Now that would have been cool, rather than getting his ass damp on the grass while he chatted away to a demon as if they were a pair of old barflies. Yep, definitely didn’t see that coming.

  “No, it wasn’t us,” Clouddancer said. “We don’t go around judging other species like that. We don’t have the ego some people in this universe have.”

  Ozzie ignored the slight. “What do you mean: judge?”

  “The barrier makers were a race younger than us, with a technological proficiency approaching us at our peak. The dickbrains believed that gave them responsibility. In that, they were very like humans.”

  “So who were they?”

  “We called their star Anomine—a short version of the true name, but accurate.”

  “You’re speaking of them in the past tense.”

  “So I am; glad someone’s paying attention. As they were then, they no longer exist. They were always faster, always hungry to advance. Again, just like you guys. They evolved from that stage and went off down a whole new route away from the directly physical; they fused with their machines, which in turn transcended. Not universally, mind you; some of them disagreed with the direction their techheads were headed. Those are the ones who still exist in their old physical form. Now they’ve calmed down some and rejected their technological culture and its outcome, they farm their original homeworld like regular folks, they rejoice in their young, they ignore the stars—though they welcome visitors from across the galaxy. I know you, Ozzie, I can see that hunger in you; you’d like them. We did.”

  Just for an instant, Ozzie saw them, or at least their planet, the way to walk there. His mind had lulled itself into the pleasant warm reverie amid dreams and awakening. Ahead of him, a long road took him down many glittering paths like gold strands stretched between the stars.

  Dream inside a dream. “Groovy,” he said contentedly. “So why the barriers?”

  “The sentient species that evolved on Dyson Alpha lust after individual empires and dominance. Think of them as the ultimate self-obsessed power freaks. Real bastards, from your cultural perspective, I guess. In their basic state they would think nothing of obliterating every other life-form in the galaxy and beyond to guarantee their own immortality.

  “When the Anomines found them, they were rapidly approaching the kind of technology level where they could have carried that particular mal-adapted evolutionary route across the galaxy at the point of a gun. So the Anomines, being the kind of bleeding heart liberals they were, decided to isolate them. They feared genocide would be committed if the Dysons were ever to reach another star system. Not exactly a difficult prediction, that one. Turns out they were right. The Dyson slower than light starships did reach a neighboring star while the Anomines were busy building the barrier generators. They all but wiped out its indigenous sentient species, enslaved the survivors, and absorbed their knowledge, exploiting it to further their own military strength. That is why barriers were established around two systems.”

  “Ah ha!” Ozzie chortled delightedly. “Everyone was wondering about the motivation behind the barriers. Damnit, man, you’re right, I would have liked to have met the Anomines when they were at their height. Sort of like the old Greenpeace movement on Earth, but with teeth. They must have helped save a lot of species. Hell, we would probably have been in the front line by now.”

  “So the Dyson people were, like, put in prison?” Orion asked.

  “That’s right,” Clouddancer said. “They were in prison. The Anomines had hoped that if they couldn’t expand they would be forced to evolve away from their imperial mindset. For your information, they haven’t.”

  “What do you mean, were?” Ozzie asked. The feelings of unease that accompanied those recent bad dreams of his suddenly came rushing to the front of his conscious thoughts. He closed his eyes.

  “Well, guess what happened when somebody’s starship went poking around? The goddamn thing was packed full of scientists desperate to see what was inside. I mean, why you dumbasses see curiosity as one of your overriding virtues is anyone’s guess. Ever heard of caution?”

  “Oh, shit. What did we do?”

  “Your starship interfered with the barrier generator around the original Dyson world. The barrier fell.”

  “I don’t believe it. You have to be wrong.”

  “You calling me a liar? You want to make something of it?”

  “There is no way humans would attempt to switch off a barrier. I know the way our governments work. They would have had to fill out eight million forms in triplicate and have the request reviewed by a hundred subcommittees before they were even allowed to read the generator’s instruction manual.”

  “They disabled some of the generator functions. I don’t know how. We weren’t paying close attention, and we don’t go whizzing around the galaxy in fancy rocketships to find these things out. But it wasn’t an accident, no fucking way. Those generators should have lasted as long as the stars they closed off, probably longer.”

  “What happened after the barrier fell?”

  “The Dysons used knowledge captured from you to establish wormholes of their own. Twenty-three Commonwealth planets were invaded in the first stage of their expansion.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Ozzie shouted. “Nigel, you total asshole, how stupid are you? I told you this space cadet crap was gonna wind up busting everyone’s balls. I goddamn told you!”

  “Did they invade Silvergalde?” Orion asked fearfully.

  “No, our world remains untouched.”

  “And the rest?” Ozzie asked. He knew it was going to be bad, just needed it confirmed.

  “The Commonwealth abandoned them. They suffered enormous ecological damage, and they are still subject to acts of violence between humans and Dysons.”

  “Goddamnit. So the Anomines were right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they going to help?”

  “Help what?”

  “Humans. You said the generator was disabled. Can it be restarted? Can we push the Dysons back inside?”

  “Haven’t you listened to a fucking thing I’ve been telling you? We don’t intervene. Never have, never will. And the technologically advanced Anomines are past the time when they interfere in the events of other species. Like us, they now let evolution flow where it may. If you want to restart the generator and shut the Dysons back inside the barrier, do it yourself.”

  “You mean you’re just going to let the Dysons attack humans?”

  “You’ve already seen the answer to that, Ozzie.” Clouddancer lifted his arms briefly, allowing the thick membrane of his wings to flutter in the gentle breeze. “The death of any species is to be regretted, but we have experienced many. I’ve embarked on pilgrimages to the memory of them myself, and I feel a great sorrow when I know them. We will remember you, should you fall.”

  “Well, that makes me feel one whole hell of a lot better, thanks. For a minute there I thought our friendship meant nothing at all.”

  Clouddancer peeled back his lips to expose all three rings of teeth. “This is an argument that we ended millennia ago. You let the Dysons out. You are responsible. This is macro-evolution at its worst. Watching it is always painful for us.”

  “What about the Anomines, the advanced ones; can I appeal to them directly? Do any of the paths lead to them?”

  “Not a path, no. We can talk to them when they wish it. That has not happened for over three centuries now. We thought the fall of their old barrier might stir them. But it hasn’t. We’re not even certain they exist in their primary transcendent state anymore. We have known species such as theirs which have kept on evolving into entities which simply cannot connect with those of us who remain rooted in the physical.”

  “All right, instead of a
few battalions of Silfen storm troopers, how about giving us information?” Ozzie asked. “Is there something, some weapon, you once built that could defeat the Dysons? Just the blueprints would do.”

  “I’m kind of surprised that you of all people ask that, Ozzie. In fact, I’m quite hurt by the implication we’d ever waste our time on crap like weapons.”

  “Oh, really? I’d be interested to hear what you say if your species ever gets threatened with extinction. Of course, you wouldn’t go alone. We’d help if you asked, we’d stand beside you.”

  “I know. We admire you for that, for what you are. We don’t expect you to change. Do you expect that of us?”

  “No. I just thought you were different, that’s all.”

  “Different, how? More human? You built legends around us. They were not entirely correct. It’s too late to come blaming us for your mistakes.”

  “Screw you.”

  “But I’m your friend,” Orion insisted. He held up his pendant. “Look. Other humans are, too. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does, kid. If you stay here with us, we will keep you safe.”

  “I want all of us to be safe.”

  “That is a wish to be proud of, but it is only a wish. You’re going to make a grand human when you’re all grown up. Best of the species.”

  Orion dangled the pendant in front of him, giving it a wretched stare. “Then what’s the point?”

  “Life is the point. To have joined with others and to have known them. We know you, Silfen friend Orion. That makes us glad.”

  “I used to be glad to know you.”

  “Yeah, sorry, kid. We had fun playing in those woods, back then, didn’t we? I hope that one day you will be glad to know us again.”

  “Am I right about you?” Ozzie asked. “Is there some SI equivalent you all download into? Is that what I’m really speaking to?”

  Clouddancer laughed. “Almost, Ozzie, almost.”