by Greg Bear
Leviathan hung three and a half light months distant, a steady image of fifteen worlds.
In the nearly empty schoolroom, Silken Parts coiled near the star sphere and spread three grasping cords from below the tip of its trunk, each grasping a human wand. The first three pairs of claws along each cord curled around the wands with impressive dexterity. Images flew through the air for the benefit of Stone-maker and Eye on Sky, faster than Martin could intercept; the Brothers had the advantage of multiple sensory systems, each capable of absorbing and holding for braid assimilation. The Brothers’ briefing took less than a minute. Silken Parts than transferred all three wands to one cord and handed them to Hakim, Luis, and Jennifer.
“Thank you,” Silken Parts said, leaning forward to the human observers: his comrades on the joint search team, and Hans, Harpal, Rex, Cham, and Martin.
Hakim sighed in admiration. “It is frustrating to be human,” he said to Silken Parts and Stonemaker. Stonemaker made a sound like water over gravel and emitted a sickly-sweet flower scent, olfactory and auditory laughter, which Martin suspected was more politeness than true humor.
“I will present the results now for humans,” Hakim said, lifting one wand. “Slower, but with no more joy. We have spread our remotes to their farthest position, as agreed to by Hans and Stonemaker, and we have seen the Leviathan system with much greater detail.
“Civilization is apparent. It is very, very busy. There is continuous commerce between the fifteen worlds, especially in the vicinity of the fourth planet. If this is a false projection or deception, it is a masterpiece.
“Every planet is occupied. The density of activity on each planet is marvelous, even from what we can see at this distance. Commerce between the worlds flows unceasingly, and it appears to be conducted by a variety of beings. At least, that is my intuition, and it is shared by Silken Parts.” Hakim projected images of five of the planets, arrayed around his head like balls frozen in a juggling act.
“We are using numbers and Greek designators for each body,” Hakim continued. “The first planet outward from Leviathan is a rocky world. Yet as you see, it is very fuzzy. We believe the fuzz is a heavy layer of tethered stations suspended in orbit. We are seeing this planet from an angle of sixty degrees, and the fuzziness increases on this, the southern, limb of the planet, which indicates to me much activity around the equatorial plane, perhaps out to synchronous orbit. The planet is heavily modified, but must at one time have been comparable to Venus in size and composition.”
“I assume there will be more news on these tethers or whatever as our parallax changes,” Hans said.
“Yes indeed. In fact, I will have a ninety-degree shifted view within a tenday, because of our speed, because of its precession—it has a natural polar angle of thirty degrees with relation to the ecliptic—and because of parallax change.”
“Do you think they’re defenses?”
“They do not appear to be defenses. If they are tethers, they may be extended surface habitats—hanging buildings. How such a network of tethered structures could be maintained in orbit presents an awesome challenge.”
“Sounds like a bustling metropolis,” Harpal commented. “Why do you think there’s more than one intelligent species there?”
“Actually, we posit nothing of the sort—only that there are varieties of intelligent forms. For a civilization at this stage of development, the moms tell us speciation is not a useful concept. Biological forms, if any, may be entirely artificial and arbitrary.”
Hakim sipped from a bulb of water and continued. “The second planet is very different from the first. It possesses no fuzziness and perhaps few if any tethered structures, yet has a dense atmosphere of carbon dioxide and nitrogen, high in water vapor, maintained at a steady planet-wide temperature of eighty-five degrees centigrade.”
“Why?” Hans asked, frowning.
“To provide a different habitat, perhaps,” Luis suggested.
“The planets are quite different, as if designed for some particular environment or function. To highlight the most interesting, the fourth is not a rocky world, nor a gas giant, but we do not know what it actually is. I once thought it might be a brown dwarf, but that makes no sense now. It has an enormous surface area covered by what appears to be a thin atmosphere of carbon dioxide and oxygen and argon, and an actual solid surface—a lithosphere, which would have to be artificially stabilized. The lithosphere may float on a fluid core, but the surface temperature is remarkably warm, twelve degrees centigrade, which would point to internal heating.”
“All right,” Hans said. “Why do they have lots of different environments?”
Silken Parts rustled his cords before speaking. “In we our records, we we see and smell of many species developing intelligence in a local area, and creating great communities. They are not common. They exist, but.”
“It’s all deception,” Hans murmured. “Why worry about it?”
“If it is not deception…” Hakim said, lifting his hands.
Hans laughed. “We’ve faced nothing but deception from the Killers from the very beginning. This is perfect—something to make us hesitate, lose confidence. It’s just goddamned perfect.”
Stonemaker rustled now, then coiled and uncoiled. A single cord disengaged from his tail and crawled out the door. Eye on Sky retrieved and bagged it; it squeaked plaintively. “I we beg pardon,” Stonemaker said. An odor of something akin to embarrassment—fresh salt air with seaweed. Minor spontaneous disengagement was not uncommon for the Brothers, but discomfiting if noticed.
“Think nothing of it,” Hans said. “I detect a conspiracy here. Not just Hakim… does somebody else think this isn’t a blind?”
Stonemaker rustled again. Clearly, something irritated the Brother. “The ship must be cautious, or I we is a Killer attitude.”
Hans knit his brows.
“We must not rush into blind judgment,” Hakim said.
Hans looked around the schoolroom, flabbergasted. “We’re seriously thinking the Killers aren’t here after all? This is what’s really here—a zoo of cultures, cooperating and prosperous, waiting for us to just drop in and visit?”
“The deception is incredibly dense,” Hakim said.
“We know of no such deception succeeding over vast periods of time,” Silken Parts said.
Hans’ face reddened. Rex started to say something, but Hans cut him off with a raised hand. “So we should vote again… pass judgment again.”
“Yes,” Stonemaker said. “All our crews.”
“I’m for that,” Hans said, stretching cat-like. “Anything to build consensus. When?”
“After much more seeing,” Silken Parts suggested. “Much more research.”
“We have time,” Hans said. “Meanwhile, we should begin drills and exercises. I’d like Martin, Paola Birdsong, Ariel, Giacomo, and… Martin, you choose three others. I’d like all of you to go through the libraries and find whatever precedent there is. Make a case. You’ll be defense. Hakim, you take Jennifer, Harpal, Cham, and three others, and prepare a case for prosecution. Stonemaker, I’m not yet familiar with the way your legal system works, but I think something similar should be done by the Brothers. Then we’ll bring the entire crew together, humans and Brothers, and judge.”
Silken Parts gave off an odor of wet clay. Stonemaker said, “We we will regroup, assemble Makers of Agreement, make a decision.”
“Grand,” Hans said. He looked at Martin. “We need to talk,” he said. “Alone.”
They went to Hans’ quarters, passing four Brothers and five humans as they exercised in a corridor. The humans tossed balls to the Brothers, who passed them along their backs from cord to cord and flipped them with their tails. The contest—a kind of football—was desperately uneven; the Brothers were winning handily, and the humans cheerfully shouted their complaints.
“Competitive, aren’t they?” Hans said. He opened the hatch to his quarters. Within, Martin saw a room as spare as his—except
for vases of flowers. Rosa’s touch. Hans lay on a pad and motioned for Martin to get comfortable.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Hans said. “I should be grateful…”
“Why grateful?” Martin asked.
“That you’re not screaming your head off. The ex-Pans don’t approve of my style, do they?”
Martin didn’t answer.
“Ah,” Hans said, nodding. “There it is.”
“Not really,” Martin said softly. “Every leader finds fault with the next in line. I argued with Stephanie.”
“Never mind,” Hans said, dismissing the subject with a wave. He stared up at the blank ceiling, as if talking to someone far away. “Harpal has resigned. I need a second—let’s not use the name Christopher Robin any more, all right?”
“Fine,” Martin said.
“Rex is loyal as hell, but I need somebody critical right now. A balance. Cham grates on me as much as Harpal. I keep coming back to you.”
“Why?” Martin asked.
“Because when you keep quiet, I wish you’d talk. If you’re my second, it’ll be your duty to talk to me, and I won’t wonder what you’re thinking. Besides, Stonemaker already acts as if you’re next in command. Might as well make it official.”
Martin sat on the bare floor, crossing his legs. “That doesn’t seem reason enough.”
“I said it before, I’ll say it now; you weren’t responsible for the Skirmish going wrong. Nobody could have seen it coming. We got away. We did what we came to do. I think you got blamed for all the wrong reasons.”
“I don’t worry about it,” Martin said.
“You lost someone you loved.”
“More than one,” Martin said.
“I think you were perhaps the best Pan we had, or at least a close match with Stephanie. She was hot, she had guts. You were quiet and deliberate. I’m flying on instinct through a thick fog. You know what my problems are.”
Martin took a deep breath.
“We’re friendly with the Brothers. That’s a relief. They scared the hell out of me, just looking at them the first time. That cord crawling on Cham…” Hans chuckled. “I would have wet my pants. I think they’re good for us. But they’re different, too. They screwed up royally in battle. They hesitated, they gave the Killers every benefit of the doubt… And they’re going to do it again. I can just smell it coming from Silken Parts and Stonemaker. They see this blind, this big cooperative solar system, all bustling and peaceful… And Christ, Martin, they want to hug the slicker, not kill it.”
“We can work around that,” Martin said.
“Can we?” Hans turned to glare at him.
“I think so,” Martin said.
“But you agree it’s a blind.”
“Hakim seems to have his doubts. Hakim’s smart—”
“Hakim’s too goddamned gentle,” Hans said.
“He’s not a coward,” Martin said.
“I didn’t mean that. He’ll be turned by the Brothers. They’ll put all kinds of doubts into his reasonable head. I wish sometimes they’d chosen a bunch of dumb-ass soldiers and not all these mental high-performance types.” Hans slapped the floor with his palm. “I could lead a bunch of blockheads anywhere, do anything, come out with most of us alive. But not thinkers and doubters. And if I add Rosa…” He pointed to the flowers, tossed his head back dramatically. “You noticed? God save me. She’s pretty good in bed, you know that?”
Martin shook his head.
“But I don’t do it for my health,” Hans said, tone softening. “She scares me more than the Brothers. She’s a cipher, Martin. I think maybe she actually does talk to God. If so, God’s on their side, not ours. If I let her loose—and I can’t control her for long, Martin—I have no idea what will come out of her. A whole new religion. Am I right?” He stood and stretched, restless as a caged leopard. “She almost sucked you in, didn’t she?”
Martin’s face reddened. “I was hurting,” he said.
“Don’t be ashamed. If I weren’t so goddamned cynical, I’d have got down on my knees, too.”
“I don’t want to be second in command. I served my time.”
“You were cut short,” Hans reminded him.
“It was fine by me,” Martin said.
“Bolsh,” Hans said. “You have as deep a sense of duty as anyone here. You feel more deeply than anyone but maybe Ariel.” Hans grinned. “She’s sweet on you, I think.”
Martin didn’t respond.
“Well, I can choose my own second if the elected one doesn’t work out. I’ve made my choice. It’s you. You’ll replace Harpal.”
“I don’t—”
“Sorry, Martin,” Hans said, putting his hands on Martin’s shoulders. “I need help. I need balance. I don’t want to make mistakes now.”
The drills began first with physical exercise, humans and Brothers cooperating in gymnastics. The result was comic at first, and Martin worried the Brothers might be offended by the confusion, but they were not.
The entire crew involved in the exercises seemed to take it as a game, even while, performing the drill to the best of their ability.
Cham served as drill leader. Eye on Sky translated for the Brothers.
“We’re going to get used to each other, get formally introduced,” Cham said. “You can call me coach.”
The humans hooted and jumped around, pretending to shoot a few hoops or pass and intercept a clothes-wad football.
“First thing is, we have to know what we can do, and what we feel like, in terms of strength, resilience, where we’re vulnerable, where we can be hurt, how we can help. Got that?”
Silence and attention indicated assent.
“We have no idea what we’ll be getting into this time. Everything we’ve drilled for, all we’ve trained for, may have to be turned upside down soon. That’s my feeling, anyway, and I think the bosses agree. Looks like Leviathan is going to be a corker. Target-rich, the old military folks on Earth used to call it. So we have to work together closely.”
Rich smells like a seashore filled the room. Martin noted a few who seemed to find the smells unpleasant: Rex Live Oak was among them, still made uneasy by the Brothers.
Harpal stood beside Martin. He had not said a word since resigning. At least he showed no resentment against Martin. Martin was grateful for that.
“First exercise,” Cham said. “A carry. Two humans will take a single Brother across the schoolroom. The Brother will then carry the two humans back. I don’t have any idea how you’ll do these things; just do them, and learn.”
Cham and Eye on Sky picked the teams. Each team had two Brothers and two humans; Martin and Ariel teamed with two braids, one a small individual called Twice Grown, the other a medium called Makes Clear. Neither of the braids had honed their human communication skills, and both often resorted to odors rather than human words, which added to the confusion and—Ariel seemed to think—to the fun. Martin had not seen her laugh so much before.
“We have a new second in command,” Cham said gleefully. “The Brothers will pardon me if I push rank forward. Martin, your team goes first.”
Makes Clear slithered forward. “Carry long ways,” he suggested, then coiled like an upright spring. Martin and Ariel tried to find safe places to grab him, but the cords squirmed beneath their grasping hands.
“Be still,” Ariel suggested.
“Not accustomed,” Makes Clear sighed. The others watched with interest as Martin finally found the least ticklish section of a cord, about three quarters toward the rear, near the most firmly gripping claws. The skin of the cord changed texture beneath his hands, from hard slick leather to easy-to-grip rubber.
Makes Clear straightened and stiffened. Ariel fumbled, recovered her grip, and they hefted Makes Clear to hip level. “Let’s go while we’ve still got him!” Martin shouted, and they started to run across the floor.
Makes Clear vented a particularly sharp turpentine smell that stung Martin’s eyes. To let go and rub his e
yes would be disastrous; but he was almost blind. Ariel was little better off. “Where are we?” Martin asked.
“You tell me!”
“I we tell! I we tell!” Makes Clear chirped. “Left, right, right.”
“What?”
“Go to the left more,” Ariel said. They narrowly missed a line of Brothers, who arched like startled serpents, adding more turpentine scent.
Martin strained his head back, teeth bared, eyes almost shut, arm muscles corded with effort. The Brother weighed at least eighty kilos. Ariel was strong, but her grip was failing, and Makes Clear slipped lower on her side. Just as they finished the trip across the chamber, they all fell and slid into the wall.
Makes Clear rustled and rose upright, then swiftly bent down, unlimbering two pairs of cords along the sides of his upper body. The cords’ claws grabbed Martin’s and Ariel’s arms and legs, and Makes Clear hoisted them from the ground with a loud buzz of effort, tossed them, and caught them around their mid-sections.
“Shit!” Ariel cried out. Makes Clear reversed course and undulated along the weaving track they had followed with comic exactness, again forcing his fellows to arch. Martin felt the claws pinching deep into skin and muscle and grimaced with pain.
The return trip was much faster. The traction of multiple cord claws along a Brother’s underside was truly wonderful, like a living tank tread, or a supercharged caterpillar. Makes Clear lowered himself and they scrambled to their feet beside Twice Grown.
“They we did well?” Twice Grown asked, his head rearing to chest level on Martin, smelling like stale fruit.
“Well enough,” Martin said, recovering his breath and feeling his ribs.
“Better next when,” Twice Grown said, weaving toward Ariel and tapping her arm with an extended cord.
“That’s affection,” Martin said, looking to see her reaction.
“I know,” Ariel said, glaring.
Cham announced the next team, and the exercise worked its way to a rather dull conclusion. By the end, they knew much more about each other, and even the most reluctant—Rex among them—had been forced to come in contact with, and to cooperate with, the Brothers.