by Greg Bear
“Brothers don’t have anything like this in their society?” Martin asked.
“Oh yes, larger we do.”
“What?” Martin asked.
“Wars between cords,” Eye on Sky said. “Times when braids unwind, and cords kill each other. Not control these times, or know when. We we must shun the curled path and those who take it, for we they bring on own unwinding, own cord wars.”
“You think we’re going to break down, as a society,” Paola said.
“Not known,” Eye on Sky said. “But if larger we stays with you, fear of catching, fear of influence.”
“You think we’ll… make you ill?” Paola asked.
“Break us down.”
Martin’s stomach contracted. He tightened his fingers on the ladder field.
“We have to work together,” he said. “Whatever the risks. We still have the same goals.”
“This not yet decided. Separate ships, working together—that is decided, for now. Working apart may be decided later.”
Division of the crews had not yet taken place-on Trojan Horse.
Eye on Sky, Martin, the mom, and the snake mother curled in the dark and watched the methodic replay of information from Sleep. Martin’s eyelids drooped with weariness, overloaded again with the wonders of what these artificial beings had made, or inherited, or both.
Hans had not spoken with Martin for seven hours. Stonemaker and Eye on Sky had conferred several times. Martin hoped this meant Hans was seriously reviewing the data.
Ariel and Erin entered the cabin and positioned themselves on each side of Martin, who reached out and squeezed their hands, then resumed watching.
In groups or alone in their cabins, Brothers and humans studied the information. “It’s staggering,” Erin said. The life-cycles of two related species passed before them; eggs carefully deposited in the deep waters of Sleep, hatchlings rising to the surface like jellyfish to be harvested by fisher parents, who injected capsules of their genetic material; the injected hatchlings forming eggs again, being deposited in green and purple forests on the third planet, hatching again to become lake- and stream-dwellers, finally joining in villages, and the villages themselves maturing, changing social structure, until they were ready to be “harvested” and trained into adult societies…
There was much more information on the staircase gods within Sleep. This appeared to be incomplete, however; where and how they obtained their energy was not clear.
“Jennifer thinks they could shift neutronium to quark matter at the core,” Ariel said. “We were just in her cabin. She’s going to make herself sick if she doesn’t get some rest.”
The Double Seed still adapted as the ships’ minds updated each other hour by hour. The mom and snake mother kept Martin and Eye on Sky informed as major changes were made, but explanations were kept simple. Logistics, not theory, were paramount now. Jennifer could not stand ignorance; she engaged in momerath continuously.
“They’re pleading with us to understand them, appreciate them,” Ariel said, pulling herself out of the maze of Leviathan’s fecundity.
“They’re desperately afraid,” Erin said. She had changed in the past few days; intense green eyes duller, hair matted, face more slack. It takes life out of all of us. “But they’re so enormously powerful…” she added.
Ariel cocked an eyebrow. “A few savages invade your house. There might be thousands of them outside, in the dark. They’re smart, and they’ve seen what your technology is like… They’re making new weapons. Would you be afraid?” she asked.
“They could squash us like bugs,” Erin said, curling her lip.
“Then why bother convincing us? Why not squash us now?”
“Maybe they value us. Maybe they’ve renounced their past so totally—”
“They had nothing to do with the past!”
Martin closed his eyes. “Please, that’s enough,” he said. He turned to the mom. “We have to resolve some things. We need advice from you.”
“Advice about what?”
“What to do,” Martin said, simply enough. “I’m snowed. I can’t see anything clearly now. Can you?”
“I ask again, what sort of advice are you seeking?”
“Are all these creatures innocent, or guilty?” Martin asked.
“They say they were created by the Killers. We can’t confirm or deny this,” the mom answered. Martin’s stomach contracted again; he had not eaten since speaking with Hans.
“You wonder if the Killers are still here,” the mom said, “and whether there is a way to seek them out, and punish only them.”
“Right.”
“We have no more information than you,” the mom said.
Eye on Sky listened quietly, and when the conversation halted, interjected, “Snake mother and ships’ minds agree. The evidence for presence of Killers is lacking.”
“They could have changed themselves… even destroyed their memories, their histories, to escape punishment,” Martin said.
“That is possible,” the mom agreed.
“Do you think it’s probable?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“But if we make the wrong decision, and kill… them, all of them, or some of them, we’re criminal, aren’t we? Won’t we violate the Law?”
“The Law is simple,” the mom said. “Interpretation is not so simple.”
“ ‘Destruction of all intelligences responsible for or associated with the manufacture of self-replicating and destructive devices,’ ” Martin quoted.
“That is the Law,” the mom said. It floated in the dark cabin, projected data glittering in reflection on its coppery surface.
“ ‘For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children,’ ” Erin quoted.
“ ‘The cord is part of the braid,’ ” Eye on Sky quoted in turn, “ ‘and suffers the shame of the braid.’ ”
Martin’s frown deepened. “Does the Law demand vengeance on succeeding generations?” he asked.
“I do not interpret the Law,” the mom said. “That is your responsibility.”
Martin held up his hand to stop Ariel and Erin from saying more. Ariel frowned and drew up her knees, touching them to her crossed arms like a little girl exiled to a corner. Erin tilted her head to one side, lost.
“Why haven’t we been attacked?” he asked the mom. “They have the means… They could have destroyed us when we first arrived.”
“Your thoughts may be as informed as those of the ships’ minds,” the mom said. “However, some possible explanations occur to the ships’ minds. The inhabitants of these planets may be supremely confident they can destroy us, so they toy with us, wishing to learn as much as they can. They may try to capture and control us to learn more about the potential threat. The Killers may no longer be in residence. The beings we have encountered may be waiting for the first signs of our aggression. They may in fact abhor destructive behavior, and take extreme risks to avoid harming our ship. Though this possibility seems remote, the power displayed may be a bluff. There are other hypotheses, but they decline in usefulness.”
“They could have weapons they haven’t even revealed.”
“That seems likely,” the mom said.
“They must be planning something,” Martin said.
The mom did not contradict him.
Hans and Martin spoke in private on the noach. Thirteen hours had passed since the end of noach blackout. “I’ve held a council here,” Hans said. “We’ve gone through most of the information you passed along. I thought we’d get you folks in the loop.”
“You’ll have to talk with Eye on Sky, too,” Martin said.
“The Brothers will make their decision separately,” Hans said.
“We haven’t divided our crews yet,” Martin said.
“Have you made up your mind?”
Martin hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten much. He blinked rapidly, eyes pink with strain, unable to shake a particular im
age from the thousands he had viewed: harvesters collecting young after hatching in the oceans of Sleep, Leviathan at dusk flaming red through a bank of crustal fissure smoke. Strange and serene and beautiful, just part of the richness, part of the flavor.
“Yes,” Martin said.
“And?”
“If the Killers are gone, I don’t think the Law applies. And if they’re still here, to get to them, we’d have to kill a thousand times more people than lived on Earth. It doesn’t make sense. We can’t risk it.”
“That’s part of a very good armor,” Hans said, eyes heavy lidded, fingers working in rhythm on his knee.
“I know,” Martin said.
“We’ve come a long way and lost our own good people.”
Martin did not dignify that reminder with a reply.
“And you think we should move on.”
“I think we should wait for more evidence. Two ships could orbit Leviathan at safe distance, hidden, the crews in cold sleep—”
“Until our fuel is gone and we become a death ship,” Hans said.
“We wouldn’t have to wait very long.”
“We wouldn’t?” Hans asked. “How long is very long, centuries, thousands of years? What kind of evidence would satisfy you? They’ll never show themselves. I can’t afford to be so careful. I’m Pan. I’m sworn to enact the Law.”
“At what cost?” Martin asked.
“What did Earth pay?” Hans asked in return.
“And the Brothers—?”
“I think they’ll decide with you. They’ve been remarkably weak partners, am I right?”
“I—”
“When you met the staircase god, the Brother just crumpled. Kind of sums them up.”
“We have to understand their differences.”
Hans smiled thinly and rubbed his scalp with straight fingers. “We’re here, the evidence is here, the Law is clear. We’re making the necessary weapons. Marty, if we don’t do it now, it will never get done. If we’re wrong, the moms will stop us.”
“I don’t think they will stop us,” Martin said.
“Why in hell not? They’re upholding the Law, too.”
“Hans, they don’t judge. They give us the tools. They don’t make decisions.”
“Then we’re really no better than the Killers, are we? Just more puffed up.”
Martin avoided that argument. “Can we do it without Shrike? he asked. “We’d have half the strength, half the fuel.”
“Giacomo thinks we can do a lot of damage with just one ship. The moms seem to agree with him.” Hans smiled, but there was little life in it. The lines in his face hardened. “We’re starting to worry the moms. If we survive, we’ll be awfully big and strong. Maybe they’ll just snuff us. But we’ll get the Job done.”
“We should let the crews debate.”
“No,” Hans said. “If we back off now, we’ll fragment.”
“I think—”
“No,” Hans interrupted. “The Law is clear. These creatures are descendants of the Killers. Hell, for all we know, the Killers have imprinted their memories on them, or maybe they’re hiding like a tree in a forest. Anything to avoid being found and destroyed.”
“I don’t believe that. You should have seen what I saw.”
“Maybe the Killers are staircase gods now.”
“I… don’t know about that.”
“Why should we listen to anything they say? Can you answer me that?”
Martin had no answer.
“They put you through a real gauntlet, ground you down. Just what I would have done if I were them.”
“We’re not them. They may be unfathomable to us.”
“Enough,” Hans said. “We need you to play a part. We need you to stall for us while we maneuver and prepare our weapons.”
“What weapons?” Martin asked. “Noach weapons?”
“It’s best we don’t give specifics… You might be captured. The longer you keep them guessing, the more time we’ll have to get our act together. You aren’t going to mutiny on me, are you, Martin?”
There was no humor in Hans’ voice, no trace of badgering. Hans believed this was a real possibility.
Am I going along with him against my better judgment, my own wishes?
“No.”
“You’ll ask for another meeting,” Hans said. “It’ll take a tenday for me to get everything in place. Plenty of time for you to learn more, salve your conscience.”
“I don’t think they’ll accept another meeting.”
“Try them. Give them hope. Play the right cards.”
“They’ll kill us,” Martin said.
Hans acknowledged that possibility with a slow nod.
“I’m not finished, with the information they gave you,” Hans said. “Maybe they’ll inadvertently tell us something important, something we can use against them. And if you’re right… maybe I’ll find something that convinces me, too. I’ll keep it in mind, Martin. I owe you at least that much.”
Martin knew Hans was pulling his strings. Hans knew Martin’s capabilities and limits, the limits of the Lost Boys and Wendys, even the Brothers, with a clarity that must have been difficult to live with.
“I’ll ask for another meeting,” Martin said.
Hans smiled, eyes widening. “You never disappoint me, Martin. I love you for that. Let’s do it.”
Ariel clenched her teeth; Erin floated beside Cham, face deliberately bland, Hakim beside Donna, George behind them.
“We’re not in the loop,” Martin said. “Not really. But I’ve told Hans we’ll play our part.”
“You didn’t consult with us,” Ariel said.
“No,” Martin said.
“You should have,” Erin said.
“I presented our views.”
“But you told him we’d go along,” Erin said.
“What else can we do?” Martin asked.
“Stand down,” Ariel said. “Encourage them to choose another Pan.”
“Hans may be right,” Martin said.
“We could put a name on what we’re going to try,” Ariel said. “We could call it genocide.”
“Bolsh,” Cham said.
“The potential for this is in the Law,” Hakim said. “We have sworn to uphold the Law. I believe it possible the Benefactors knew killer civilizations might hide behind such screens, and worded the Law—”
“We’re way beyond our limits,” Ariel said. “I did not travel this far to kill innocents.”
Hakim calmly persisted. “It is probable some Killers remain here.”
“We haven’t seen them!” Ariel shouted. Martin felt a pleasant tremor at her return to form; perversely, he found her more appealing.
“It was inevitable,” Hakim persisted. “No villain comes in black, screaming obscenities. All evil has children, homes, regard for self, fear of enemies.”
“I did not agree to kill innocents!” Ariel shouted. She spread her arms, opened her fists. “I don’t care what the moms do, or what they don’t tell us.”
“You’ve been a bit strong about the moms all along,” Cham said. “I don’t think they’re holding anything back. They’re building new weapons, snowing us how to use them—”
“Ah, bolsh, yourself!” Ariel said, face wrinkled in disgust. “I thought some of you would have the brains to figure it out.”
“What?” Hakim asked.
“The moms aren’t inventing new weapons! They’re not suddenly discovering new principles and applying them—what utter crap!”
Martin’s admiration quickly turned to irritation.
“They’ve known about these big, impressive technologies all along,” she said. “They just don’t want to show their cards any more than they have to. Nobody trusts us, nobody tells us more than we absolutely have to know. That’s the way it’s been from the beginning. If we want to believe we’re helping them develop wonderful new toys, who’s going to disabuse us? Not the moms.”
Martin’s irritation tur
ned on himself now. He hadn’t even considered that possibility; and why not? Because there was no evidence for it; Ariel was reverting to paranoid suspicions. He preferred the direct—the easier—approach. Believe what you’re told.
She curled her knees and wrapped her arms around them, again like a little girl sitting in a window, weary, disappointed by Martin, by herself. “We’re getting ready to kill trillions of intelligent beings who might be innocent. We just can’t take that chance, and Martin shouldn’t have agreed for us.”
“He’s in command of this ship,” Cham said.
“Not true, not true,” Ariel said, closing her eyes, rubbing them, staring at Hakim side wise. “He shares command with Eye on Sky, and the Brothers are breaking with us.”
Cham looked at Martin. “She’s right.”
“They haven’t decided yet,” Martin said.
“That’s what they’ll decide,” Cham said with resignation.
Martin’s wand signaled. Eye on Sky requested a meeting.
“We have to make our own decision, whatever Hans says,” Ariel concluded.
In the Brothers’ quarters, Martin hung from a net beside Eye on Sky. The Brothers coiled around them, cords’ skins gleaming in the offset lighting, the upraised foreparts of the braids casting shadows around Martin like a larger net. The presence of so many large serpentine shapes might have been threatening; but for him, the Brothers represented a gentleness and humanity Hans didn’t think they could afford. He felt no threat from them.
Eye on Sky splayed his head and crawled along the net closer to Martin, smelling of cut grass, fresh-baked bread: smells of strength and firmness, of assurance. “Listening to we our fellows on Shrike and Greyhound, we we decide there is a chance to learn more, and so will act with yours.”
“I should ask for another meeting?”
“Yes,” Eye on Sky said.
Martin chewed his upper lip thoughtfully. “Do you think the Killers are still here?”
“Perhaps not possible to know.”
“Some of us think we should have expected this problem from the beginning,” Martin said.
“Questions without answers. Expected, not anticipated in detail.”
“We were young,” Martin said.
“We all we are young, this problem is ancient. It eats we us as a sweet, with delight.”