Diamond Mask (Galactic Milieu Trilogy)

by Julian May

  “Now try sleep, Makana Lani,” the kahuna commanded, using the Hawaiian name she had bestowed upon Dee. Like Dorothea, it meant “gift of God.”

  “The little boy,” Dee murmured, letting her eyelids close as the woman’s healing redaction soothed her. “Is he all right?”

  “What little boy?” Rogi asked.

  “His name was Mikey. I pulled him out of the Spouting Horn with me. Don’t tell me he wasn’t found!” Dee was wide awake again, half risen from the bed in agitation. “That’s the reason why I was caught in the blowhole—trying to save him.”

  Malama and Rogi looked at each other.

  “No keiki in da breaks wit’ you,” the Hawaiian woman said. “Nobody in da park at all when da two kanaka pull you out and bring you to me.”

  “But his father …” Dee fell silent. “Yes. I see. There was a third sailboarder when I first arrived at the park. Later he—or she—disappeared.”

  “Sleep,” said Malama Johnson. “Tomorrow we going do some extra-special huna, then I teach you how spahk Jack wit’out subspace radio. You tell him all about da kine at Spouting Horn, yeah!”

  “And the Coconut Effect,” Dee said.

 

  Two units were enough to plant the idea in the Girl’s head and nudge her to act on it but we were unable to follow through. If only Celine had been here with me/US! Parni is a dolt he bungled the stone. If he had impelled it to hit her squarely on the temple or even at the point of the jaw she might never have regained consciousness.

  You weren’t too swift yourself Maddy Jeez I nearly plotzed when the Girl did that steamheat thing and dragged you with her damngoodthing she went blotto at the end of the line sweetsurprise to find out she’d rescued Maddyinawetsuit instead of poorlittleMikey.

 

  Yes. Well she&kahuna certainly know what happened by now.

  [Laughter.] Fat lot of good it does ’em we were out of there slickerthanhogshit before the Hawaiian Witch arrived.

  I tried to deflect the two boys on the sailboards from rescuing her but the kahuna’s compulsion was too strong. If we are to dispose of the Girl by nonfeeding means we’ll have to use more conservative tactics and pick the next time&place of attack with the utmost care.

  No kahunas ready to ride to the rescue! And have all Hydraunits on board and cooking.

 

  It’s safe for her to travel? I mean won’t the cops be watching traffic from Okanagon to Earth?

 

  Fury … do we still have the watts to snuff the Girl even with Celine’s input? [Doubt.]

 

  She won’t be much longer. Not after the Lylmik get hold of her.

  …

  Maddy?

  Yes.

  I really got the willies about this new act. ExQuint.

  KnowwhatImean?

  It’s understandable Parni. We’re all shaken by his death. Celine nearly went to pieces. You know she had fixated on him sexually in the last year or so [bitterness] the thieving little bitch.

  Hey sweetheart you started it giving her the boot don’t come crying to me … But delete that and listen: There are some things that have really pissed me off lately. You know Fury would have installed that Scotchtwat over us if she hadn’t put her foot in it.

  Yes.

  And poor old Quint! Had to fall on his sword just because Fury told him to. Maximum bummer.

  He was happy to sacrifice himself in the cause.

  Oh right. And we’re left threeheaded! What happens if Fury digs up another BabyParamount and starts the same shit all over? You remember how Fury went after Marc.

  Yes …

  It tried for Jack in utero too. Might have got him if the HawaiianWitch hadn’t stepped in and taught him to shut Fury out. And then there was that Remillard woman! Four times Fury’s made it perfectly clear that WE’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO LEAD THE SECOND MILIEU. How thickheaded do we have to be to figure?

  Fury … knows best.

  Maddybaby Fury can’t do zilch without us. What is Fury anyhow? A goddamn syndrome! A sicko persona hiding fuckknowswhere. You ever stop to think what we could do working on our own?

  IMBECILESHITFORBRAINS! Parni don’t you understand?

  Without Fury we’re nothing. Without Fury WE DIE.

  Panic. No—I don’t believe it that’s total bullshit! …

  Fury created us Fury can destroy us! And we’d go happily. Just like Quint.

  Denial. Terror. WrongwrongnoIdon’tbuyit!

  Exasperated resignation. Never mind sweetheart. It’s all going to work out. No ParamountBabies anywhere else in the HumanPolity. Not yet. All Fury has to work with is US. Love you BigLug! What say we go have a mondomojo twoheaded feed&fuck?

  Kaleidoscopic.

  20

  SECTOR 15: STAR 15-OOO-00 [TELONIS] PLANET 1 [CONCILIUM ORB]

  GALACTIC YEAR: LA PRIME 1-385-969 [15 DECEMBER 2072]

  PAUL REMILLARD DIDN’T MUCH LIKE THE NEW LYLMIK ENCLAVE. When the Supervisors required vis-à-vis encounters with human magnates in the earlier days of the enfranchisement, they would simply summon them to a quiet section of the Administrative Sphere, more or less materialize in a severe golden room, speak what was on their wispy minds, and then disappear. It was a direct, no-nonsense approach that the First Magnate had appreciated.

  That had changed, perhaps because the Galactic Overlords had become concerned about the negative psychosocial effect their otherness might be having on skittish humans. They decided to mend their image, creating a Lylmik enclave in Orb where visiting was encouraged—even though the inhabitants were rarely perceptible to ordinary senses or to ultrafaculties. The artificial environment called Syrel supposedly reproduced conditions on the prehistoric Lylmik home world. (The actual planet, a barren rock orbiting the strange star Nodyt more than 27,000 lightyears from Earth, was deemed too aesthetically forbidding—and lethal to air-breathers—to be re-created.)

  Paul exited the Syrel tube station into a world of crystalline pastels and elusive herbal scents. A thin opaline mist filled the superoxygenated air, and only in his immediate vicinity was the landscape clearly visible. It was as though he were the principal light source, illuminating the enclave as he walked along, while a violet scrim obscured details more than a few meters away. Most of the ground was covered by a yielding turf of what seemed to be cellophane grass, in which transparent, feathery organisms continually sprouted and grew rapidly to heights of a dozen centimeters or so. After producing pale, glassy fruits that exploded soundlessly and released glittering spores, the things crumpled and seemed to vanish, only to begin their brief life cycle again a few minutes later.

  Paul went along a pathway made of rose-quartz flagstones that passed through a patch of larger, faintly glowing, sessile lifeforms. Some were like living plass umbrellas flecked with dew; others resembled plump terrestrial jellyfish with sparkling fringes. Tall, stalked ribbon-bearers reminiscent of white or pale-pink kelp undulated languorously, now and then reaching out a gentle tendril
as if to inspect the exotic passerby.

  Stepping-stones led across a brook that flowed over tinted pebbles. Moon-colored little water-creatures with shining eyes zipped evasively among rock-crystal boulders at the stream’s margin. Further up the banks grew lucent fungoid shapes with diamond spikes, vitreous “reeds” topped with gauzy plumes, and organisms that mimicked exquisitely carved white-jade flowers.

  The residence of the Supervisory Body stood in a twilit grove of many-branched “willow trees” that seemed to be formed of twisted, milky glass. Their lanceolate, hanging foliage was also glassy, clashing and tinkling faintly in the vapor-laden breeze. The house might have been an enormous gold nugget with a brushed finish. Its shape was irregular and no door or windows were immediately evident.

  The First Magnate had visited the place many times now, doing his best to respond cordially to the awkward Lylmik attempts at sociability. These often took the form of annoying inquiries into his intimate affairs. Lylmik notions of privacy did not equate with Paul’s own, and he also disliked being reminded that the entities possessed the godlike ability to oversee anything and anyone in the galaxy if they felt like it. Fortunately (and occasionally unfortunately), they were usually disinclined to do so.

  Paul followed the path to its termination before a featureless golden wall and announced:

  I am here.

  Immediately an iris doorway opened in the nugget’s side. He stepped over the threshold into a single softly lit room where all surfaces were subtly curved and formed from some transparent substance. The walls were slick but the floor was ribbed for comfortable walking. Within and behind them flowed currents of deep green and indigo liquid shot through with whorls of bubbles. In the center of the room stood a golden armchair of human design. Before it, formed from extensions of the floor-ribbing, was a low dais. The metaconcerted voice of the Lylmik Supervisors spoke:

  Welcome and high thoughts to you, First Magnate. Please be seated.

  As Paul sat down five faintly visible whirlwinds formed in the air above the dais, making the familiar Quincunx pattern—one at each corner and one in the center of a squared diamond shape. The aerial phenomena quickly materialized into five near-humanoid heads of amiable aspect that trailed ectoplasmic filaments from the occipital region.

  The central entity, the Lylmik leader called Atoning Unifex, had eyes of luminous gray and seemed to be much older than the others, even though Its illusory appearance was almost identical to theirs. It rarely spoke, apparently preferring to leave intercourse with vulgar humanity to Its associates. The eyes of the other four Supervisors were the color of backlit aquamarines.

  Although they manifested a similar appearance, Paul had discovered early on that the Lylmik personalities were quite distinctive. The one called Homologous Trend was a slightly ponderous, avuncular logician, while Noetic Concordance had a serene character and was prone to mystical digressions. Asymptotic Essence was an incisive critic who did not bother to hide a biased view of humanity. Eupathic Impulse played the gadfly, had a rather slangy manner, and was not above twitting the other four—even the awesome leader—for perceived flaws in judgment, absentmindedness, or conversational vagaries. Paul rather liked Eupathic Impulse.

  Ominously, it was the gray-eyed Unifex who addressed the First Magnate in a soft voice:

  “We must confer with you on matters of the utmost gravity, Paul, and so you must forgive us if we forgo the usual pleasantries and get right down to brass tacks.”

  “Right,” said the First Magnate aloud. And to himself: Oh, shit.

  “My colleagues and I,” Atoning Unifex continued, “have been discussing the advisability of condemning the so-called Rebel movement and requiring an oath of loyalty to the Milieu from all Human Magnates of the Concilium. Please tell us your reaction to this proposal.”

  “I think it would be a tragic mistake,” Paul said immediately. “Even though I myself once cosponsored a bill that would have forbidden debates about Unity in the Concilium, I now believe that such gag-rule legislation would be futile—possibly ruinous to Human Polity discipline. It would be even more disastrous to label anti-Unity sentiment treasonous.”

  “You believe that your race values free discussion so highly?” Noetic Concordance asked.

  “Yes,” Paul replied. And then: “What penalty do you propose for refusing to take the oath?”

  “One would have a choice,” said Homologous Trend. “Redaction of the magnate to the latent state and expulsion from the Concilium … or euthanasia.”

  “You would very likely lose nearly a quarter of the two hundred human magnates,” Paul said, “including some of the most brilliant and influential. A significant percentage of the others would be so scandalized by the draconian action that their own loyalty to the Milieu might waver. I know my own would. I’ve undergone a change of heart about this business—”

  “By the Prime Entelechy!” Eupathic Impulse exclaimed. “Does one mean to say that one has converted to the Rebel point of view?”

  “Certainly not,” said Paul sharply. “I’m more committed to Unity than ever. But I firmly believe that it is impossible to force the Human Mind to accept the Unity of the Coadunate Milieu. Humans must be persuaded—shown that Unity does not pose a danger to their free will or mental integrity. This is the purpose behind the recent establishment of the Panpolity Directorate for Unity, in which my son Jon and my sister Anne are prominent.”

  “But the Rebel movement is spreading apace—especially amongst nonoperants in the human colonies,” said Asymptotic Essence. “Never before in the history of the Galactic Milieu has a precoadunate race presumed to question the value of Unity.”

  “Humans are unique,” said Atoning Unifex. “I warned you about that at the time of the Great Intervention.”

  “One remembers.” The voice of Noetic Concordance was soothing. “These were your words concerning Earth: This small planet occupies a critical place in the probability lattices. From it may emerge a Mind that will exceed all others in metapsychic potential. It is known to us that this Mind will be capable of destroying our beloved Galactic Milieu. It is further known to us that this Mind will also be capable of magnifying the Milieu immensely accelerating the Unification of all the inhabited star systems. For this reason we have directed this extraordinary attempt at Intervention …”

  Unifex inclined Its head. “I said further that the step involved great risk. But all evolutionary leaps are hazardous, and without risk-taking there can only be stagnation, the triumph of entropy, and eventual death.”

  Asymptotic Essence said, “Nevertheless, there remains the dire new resultant of the latest probability analysis, which prompted one to offer the drastic remedy: If the Rebel movement continues to grow at its present rate amongst operant and nonoperant humans, the Unification of that race may never take place. Instead of merging with our Coadunate Galactic Milieu, humanity will be constrained to declare war upon it.”

  “Nonsense!” Paul exclaimed. “Not even the most xenophobic of the anti-Unity faction advocates that course. At the worst, they’d simply drop out of the confederation to go their own way—”

  “Even if we would allow it, this is not likely,” said Homologous Trend. “Why does one think the Great Intervention eradicated the last vestiges of the old nationalism on Earth before enfranchising its populace? Why does one think the Simbiari Proctorship suppressed—sometimes ruthlessly—those Earth sects and political movements that had bigoted mind-sets or advocated so-called holy or preventive wars to eliminate opposing points of view? Why has the Milieu been obliged to forbid certain types of commercial activity by human entrepreneurs even now? Why does it severely limit governmental autonomy of human colonial planets, and control their operant/nonoperant population mix?”

  Calmly, Paul said, “In order to prevent the kinds of bloody conflict that traditionally prevailed among human beings in pre-Intervention years. If humanity wasn’t restrained, the probability is that we’d fight for what we perceived
to be our self-interest. Asymptotic Essence’s calculations are correct.” He fixed his gaze on the gray-eyed Lylmik Overlord. “But there’s a paradox here. Don’t tell me you don’t see it, Unifex.”

  “Certainly I do: In order to protect itself from humanity while the race is still immature and dangerous, the Milieu has behaved in a despotic fashion. By limiting human freedom, it has provoked the very kind of behavior it sought to prevent. The Milieu took a great risk in admitting humanity. It may have overreached itself.”

  “I don’t think so.” Paul’s mental aspect shone with stubborn hope. “Aside from the Unity issue, there are only minor pockets of human discontent. If Unity can be proved to be the right and proper goal of human mental evolution, the Rebel movement will most likely evaporate. The new Directorate will bring together the best minds from all six racial Polities to discuss every aspect of Unity and deal with legitimate Rebel objections to it. Forget the notion of outlawing the Rebels—at least until you’ve given the more conservative course a chance.”

  Unifex said, “This is my recommendation also, colleagues. My reasoning is perhaps not the same as Paul’s—but I say again that without risk there can be no evolution, only torpidity and finally extinction. Our own Lylmik race is a melancholy exemplar of that truth. We believe we have reached the pinnacle of our evolution, and there we stand, most of our number now content to think their own grand and unutterable thoughts, alone and self-sufficient. The excitement engendered by my original Protocol of Unification has long since dwindled to ennui in all except a handful of Lylmik minds. We do not reproduce. Except for this small Quincunx, we do not create. The Twenty-One Worlds each send a single delegate to the Concilium but there is little genuine interest in Milieu affairs remaining amongst us. Shall I tell you the true reason why the Galactic Milieu needs the Human Mind? … It is because the Lylmik Mind is dying, as I am dying Myself. When I go, our race will retreat into aloof senescence and will perish inside of a single millenary. But by then I foresee that the Human Mind, fully coadunate and Unified, will have taken our place. The magnification of the inhabited star systems in the Milky Way will continue under Human Polity direction until all thinking beings within it are loving siblings, as they are in the Duat Galaxy from which I originally came. And then, if it pleases the Cosmic All, another Unifex may move on to a younger whirlpool of stars and begin again.”