“One group of smaller, lighter-boned dinosaurs took to the hills and trees to get away from their fellows,” Ay’r added. “Slowly they developed wings and even feathers. They took to the air, surviving on insects and on extremely limited food supplies. They evolved as the dinosaurs died.”
“Then where are all the birds?” Alli Clark asked. “Or have they just died out?”
“Exactly. And the fact that they were already a vanished species many millennia ago is proved by the great growth and evolution of certain insects, like the Colleys and Arachs and even the lichenhoppers Oudma fed and tended, which were suddenly free of predators. Free to develop on their own, and to take over that particular ecological niche. In fact, if Pelagia hadn’t been seeded by Humes, we might have arrived to find Colleys evolving into intelligence and language. They already possess the rudiments, as well as some manual dexterity.”
“A fascinating conversation, Ser Sanqq’,” the Fast said. “But, alas, one I must interrupt to let you know that the four optical scouts which have followed the pod which abducted ’Dward Ib’r have reached some sort of standstill.”
“What do you mean a standstill?” Alli asked.
“They can go no farther,” the Fast said, snippily enough. “They’ve bumped into some sort of enormous shield. They’re now each going in different directions, trying to gauge the size and extent of the shield.”
“And the pod with ’Dward?” Ay’r asked.
“No longer can be seen or followed. Evidently it’s within the shield.”
“Let’s go!” Ay’r said, and this time no one thought to defy him or pinch a nerve in his neck.
As P’al piloted the shuttle along the path taken by the scouts, the ensuing fifteen or twenty minutes was as grimly silent as the previous period flying over the Sunken City of Dy’r had been filled with talk, as though each of the five had dropped suddenly and totally into his/her own mind. Occasional bursts of unhelpful information from the Fast about the shield the four optical scouts had encountered was more an irritation than anything else, although from it they learned that the shield began about two-thirds of a kilometer from the last chain of small islands which formed the easternmost tip of this archipelago, and that it was above twenty kilometers in length yet only about three in width – suggesting that it had been raised over another island or islands. The shield was complete. Nothing could be seen, heard, or otherwise sensed within. Nor did it respond to communication. A few laser shots had bounced off its surface without leaving a mark, and an attempt to exercise one scout’s rather limited electromagnetic field to break through had merely resulted in the destruction of the scout, with no effect on the shield.
“I believe we’ve located what you, ’Harles, once referred to as the Abode of the Gods,” P’al said.
A few minutes later, he stopped the shuttle and let it hover. The view beneath them was the desolate point of what looked to be the final small island of the archipelago. Bleak, without any life but a bit of lichen, damp from sea spray. All around them was open ocean, except for straight ahead, where a blank space loomed, blank in that it wasn’t mist or fog but merely a vagueness – obviously a distortion of the shield.
“Fast, send a message!” Alli Clark commanded. “Tell them Ay’r Kerry Sanqq’ is here to see his father. Send it by micro- and macrowave – any wave at all which you can tell is not bouncing off the shield.”
“The message has been sent.”
“Send it again,” she ordered. “And keep sending it until you get a response.”
They were all silent for some time. Then Ay’r felt the need to say, “P’al doesn’t believe my father is here.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Actually,” P’al admitted, “because of what the little Truth-Sayer told Ser Kerry. That we would not find who we were looking for. ‘But another. Very like.’”
“Meaning?”
“Who knows?”
“Ay’r?” Alli Clark asked.
“I haven’t a clue.”
Something was happening ahead, a break or something in the shield. Pods breaking through? No, but another kind of vehicle, a water vehicle.
Could it be? Yes, some sort of water-sleds coming straight toward them, and above the top of each curved front sled, the transparent helmet of a Hume.
“I believe we’re expected to land,” P’al said, as the six water-sleds pulled up to the spit of land below them. There was one figure on each sled, although there seemed to be room on each for at least one more.
Alli grumbled, but P’al and the Fast tried to persuade her that it was the only way to meet the strangers.
Finally ’Harles leaned over, took her hand, and said, “My sons, Alli. I believe this is the only way I’ll see them again.”
At this she relented, adding, “But let’s stay together and let’s keep our belt fields on. That means you, ’Harles, and you too, Oudma. Do you know how to use it?”
Five of the six Humes were standing in front of their beached vehicles. The fifth strode forward to meet them as the shuttle dome opened, lifting his visor so they could see his face. Like all the others, he was wearing some sort of skintight wet suit, similar in its effect, if not in the material, to what the Deltan folk had worn.
It wasn’t his apparel but the male’s features that were so surprising to Alli and Ay’r and P’al. His skin was olive, his eyes black, his hair black: all normal. But his eyes were somewhat slanted, and around them the epicanthic folds were quite pronounced. His nose and mouth were fine and small, despite his wide face and high cheekbones. His hair, although jet black, was perfectly straight and long.
“A genetically unassimilated male,” Alli Clark whispered.
“A purebred Metro.-Terran racial genetic type,” P’al added. “What used to be called ‘Mongoloid.’”
We were expecting company,” the stranger said, speaking perfect, precise Universal Gal. Lex., “and here we seem to have five Drylanders. Yet one of you claims to be Sanqq’.”
“I’m Ay’r Kerry Sanqq’. Disregard our appearance. Several of us made the ’xchange on our Fast before landing on Pelagia.”
And when the stranger didn’t respond, Ay’r repeated, “The ’xchange.”
P’al explained, “A temporary cosmetic exchange of certain physical characteristics. It may not have been perfected in your time.”
“Ah!” Now the stranger understood. “Then you are the son of the Mammalian Biologist Ferrex Baldwin Sanqq’?”
“I am.”
“I’m Zhon Azura. Come. You are all the guests of Creed Lars’son. He suspected offworlders the minute we encountered those little Cybers snooping around our shield.”
He led them to the five other males waiting at their sleds, saying, “It’s a quick ride, and you shouldn’t get too wet.”
Even so, the five were handed transparent loose-fitting garments to put on, instructed to get behind each driver, and to hang on tightly.
It’s like a Colley ride,” Azura said, “only faster and much smoother.” He asked Ay’r to get onto his sled.
“Why can’t we take the shuttle?” Alli Clark asked.
“It doesn’t have the proper signals to bypass our shield,” Azura explained. Obviously he wasn’t about to give out the signals.
As the water-sleds took off from shore and began turning toward the shield, one in front of the other, Azura said, “The opening is quite small.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Ay’r asked.
“To the Unmoored Islands!” Azura answered, as they headed toward the blank space lying straight ahead.
Ay’r watched the five other water-sleds vanish into the blank space. A second later, Azura’s sled hit mist, which became fog. Another second later, the fog was gone. A perfectly beautiful sunlit day faced them, in no way different from what they had seen outside the shield, except for the sight of the island ahead – long, hilly, the approaching shore a mixture of rocky outcroppings covered with verdant (and green!) foliage
surrounding tiny beaches. Amid the trees as well as atop the highest hills could be seen the sides and roofs of small structures, some Plastro-alloy reflecting the sun that was now nearly at meridian. Although, as the sled approached the shoreline, the structures seemed of different materials – wood, some sort of brick – and of differing shapes, they were clearly residential, few rising more than two stories, and as much as possible open to ocean views. What had Azura meant by “Unmoored Islands”? When Ay’r turned his head to look backward, he saw what might be the extension of a single shoreline, or another island – explaining the plural, if not the name.
The curved line of sleds ahead seemed to aim toward a particular spot, and as Azura sped to catch up, Ay’r saw a small harbor, which they soon entered. Almost circular, it was bordered on two sides by more residential-looking structures, and though they were partly hidden within stands of trees, they appeared larger as the water-sled slowed down to enter the harbor, sprawling pavilions connected by terraces. Ay’r even thought he caught what might be a swimming pool through flowers and bushes.
At the deepest end of the little harbor were platforms for scores of watersleds to berth – several from their party were already disembarking – and above that a triangular plaza, bordered on one side by a much higher platform upon which dozens of T-pods sat, and on the other side by a sort of trellised shed holding many more sleds and T-pods, evidently for repair and storage. Behind the informal little plaza, the roofs of other residences rose in a rough kind of order, several three and even four stories high, all with windows and balconies, and all half hidden behind taller trees.
The temperature of the air had changed as soon as they had entered the shield. Now it was warm. The water-sled drivers were stripping off their sled-suits down to tiny hip-hugging swimsuits in bright patterns and urging their guests to do likewise. The few other Humes Ay’r saw as Azura glided into the sled-berth were also wearing only enough cloth to cover their genitals, all of them males of various skin colors, from the sunburned pale white skin of Drylanders to the blue-black of one of several Humes who had gathered to watch the strangers’ arrival.
“Straight ahead is a place where you can rest and change into more appropriate clothing,” Azura said, pointing through the plaza toward the taller structures. “After that, I’ll take you to Ferrex Baldwin Sanqq’. Shall we go?”
“Where’s ’Dward Ib’r?” Ay’r asked. “The youth who was found by the ruins in the Great Cold Swamp earlier today. I must see him first.”
“You’ll find him there. That’s where all newcomers reside.” Azura took Ay’r’s arm and led him forward. The others – including the shuttle’s former passengers as well as the water-sled drivers – followed. Ay’r saw that, like Azura, they, too, were purebred racial genotypes, although he couldn’t say with certainty which ethnic variations of those types.
“Why did you call these the Unmoored Islands?” Ay’r asked.
“Because they aren’t connected to the ocean’s bottom. They float. Or rather are guided by us.”
“Us meaning how many of you?”
“Perhaps fifteen hundred males.”
“And the females – the Drylander females who were abducted? Where are they?”
“They’ve been returned to their homes over the years. Only males remain.”
That was odd, Ay’r thought. “How many of you were here originally?” he probed. “How many did my father collect and bring here to Pelagia?”
“Two hundred seventy-five.”
“And all the rest are abducted Drylander youths?”
“Once they were. Now they’re all Islanders. That’s what we call ourselves,” Azura said calmly, as though he had heard not a jot of criticism in Ay’r words or tone.
“Why were they abducted?”
“I’m not authorized to discuss that with you.”
“But – !”
“We’re here now.” Azura led them up a small rise in the path, which Ay’r only now noticed was made of slatted wood laid upon a stilted framework to hold it about a meter off the ground. Although the entry Azura pointed to was on his left, Ay’r looked straight ahead, where the wooden path passed several other entryways then slanted down a ramp that gave onto a wide beach of pure white sand and, beyond it, the ocean. Despite the moderate surf, it was both serene and invigorating – beautiful.
Behind Ay’r, P’al had asked about the boarded paths, and one of the other males was now explaining that it was to protect the island’s fragile vegetation and to allow the most efficient passage all over the island.
“You walk everywhere?” Alli Clark asked, astonished.
“Most of the time, although we have lightweight vehicles. None more than half the width of the boards. Most of them are double-Hume gravi-sleds.”
Like everything they’d seen so far on the island, the interior of the residence they entered was simple, clean, and informal. The first floor was a large, airy room opening on a garden. Moving stairs brought them to a second floor, where they were shown to large, wide, windowed sleeping chambers – Oudma and Alli were directed into one, ’Harles and P’al to a second, Ay’r to a third one, as large as the others and with a view of the ocean.
“Please!” Azura gestured to Ay’r. “Rest, clean up, change your clothing. If you’re hungry or thirsty” – he pointed to a wall unit similar to that in most MC flats and homes – “I’ll bring you to ’Dward Ib’r in a moment.”
“He isn’t hurt or ...?”
“No. But I understand that he resisted those who brought him here and was so disturbed that he had to be sedated. No one knew what he was doing out in the middle of the swamp all by himself, naturally, and rescue was absolutely required.”
“Rescue! I was there in a T-pod, not fifty meters away, fighting off those Eve-damned roots!”
“The report said nothing of a T-pod nearby,” Azura said with perfect equanimity. “The youth had been meant to be scheduled for Ir’i Oriol,” Azura said. “But naturally, if he is yours ...”
“Scheduled?” Ay’r asked. “For what?”
“All will be explained by the proper personnel. Creed Lars’son, most likely.”
“You can’t schedule ’Dward Ib’r to be anyone’s for any reason,” Ay’r said. “He’s my ...” Ay’r was lost for the right word and groped a bit, looking for something that would be sufficiently daunting yet not unbreakably permanent. Finally he settled for, “’Dward is my lover.”
“Then, of course, someone else will be found for Oriol.” Azura backed off quickly, still without explaining what ’Dward had been scheduled for.
At least Ay’r was pleased that he had struck the right note with Azura.
Seeing that Azura was avoiding most of his questions, he tried another: “Were all two hundred and seventy-five of the original Islanders purebred racial genotypes?”
“Yes. I’m originally from the Wolf 128, Genotype Colony, a small system in the Orion Spur,” Azura explained. “The others came from there, or from various Sol-Terras or Centauri System lunar colonies.”
Ay’r decided he’d better find out everything right now. “Because my father needed purebred genotypes for his experiments in Relfianism?”
“At first Ferrex Baldwin Sanqq’ believed that purebred racial genotypes would provide better opportunities for his work,” Azura said. “He found out eventually that wasn’t necessarily so. The Drylanders, for example –”
“You’re all Mammalian Biologists?” Ay’r interrupted.
“Not all of us!” Azura laughed. “Some of us are Engineers, Physicists, Administrators, Artists. Ferrex Baldwin Sanqq’s concept was to devise a complete and totally self-sufficient society, from those who invented and repair the gravi- and water-sleds to those who devised the floatation devices for the islands, to those who design and build our houses, our gardens, our music ...”
“Yet after a while, my father’s complete society wasn’t complete enough and he needed to abduct Drylander youths,” Ay’r retorted
. “Why?”
“I’m not qualified in the niceties of Pelagian politics nor in the ramifications of the Greater Plan. Creed Lars’son will discuss all the administrative details.”
Ay’r punched up a juice from the wall unit. It tasted quite good. He stripped off his rough and by now worn and much-slept-in Drylander clothing and moved into the large bath. It was the first sustained bout of unlimited hot water, hot air, cleansers, skin and hair emollients he had encountered since he had left the Fast, and he luxuriated in it. Azura had several garments awaiting him when he stepped back into the large sleep chamber: a tiny lightweight swimsuit like those most Islanders wore, a larger pair of shorts, and a lightweight tunic with the neck and arms cut out at the shoulders. Ay’r settled for the swimsuit and tunic.
“What about ’Nton Ib’r? He was abducted some months ago Sol Rad.”
“’Nton Ib’r is here. He is well. You’ll see him later,” Azura said, but his usually indifferent demeanor had changed subtly when Ay’r mentioned ’Harles’s elder son.
“Let’s see ’Dward!” Ay’r was conscious that while he was a guest, as a result of being someone’s son, for the first time in his life he possessed influence.
A floor above, a Medic who was wrist-connected to a Cyber-monitor detached himself and joined them in a connecting smaller sleep chamber. ’Dward was naked, sleeping fitfully upon the air-bed. From the limitation on his movements, it was clear that he wore air-belt restraints. Ay’r had these removed, and ’Dward’s arms and legs relaxed immediately.
Although he had been looking forward to this moment since he had managed to get out of the T-pod in the middle of the swamp, now that Ay’r was here with ’Dward, he wasn’t sure what to do. How would ’Dward react to seeing him again? Would he welcome him? Or upbraid him for letting him be abducted? Ay’r didn’t care if ’Dward was angry at him, if – not understanding how it had occurred – he lashed out at him, even struck him. But he found he couldn’t bear having ’Dward reproach him silently, turn away, not want to see him. The fact that Azura and the Medic were right here, watching, made it more difficult.
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