Gods of the Greataway

by Coney, Michael G.

  Another tale of failure is the legend of Lost Loanna, and on a distant happentrack it is a familiar tale because of its poignant quality, and because it involves immortals. Immortals are always popular figures in legends, because the listener can tell himself they are probably still around, walking incognito.

  Horst and Loanna were immortal children created by Mankind from the flesh of an ancient called Antonio, descendant of John, son of Karina, descendant of Captain Spring. Although Horst and Loanna could never reach maturity, an extraordinary thing happened to them one day. They looked at each other, found their emotions had changed in a subtle way and realized they were in love.

  Like the immortal children around them, they played at creating works of art. There was one special talent they alone possessed, however, and they used this talent like a game. In their game of hide-and-seek, one would slip into another dimension of the Greataway and the other would try to hunt the hider down. It was great fun. It was in fact a version of the Outer Think, the art of which was gradually being lost.

  Horst and Loanna would have been very happy, but for one thing. Loanna put their discontent into words. One day she said, “I wish I could have a baby.”

  “Only mature humans can have babies,” said Horst. “Let’s play hide-and-seek.”

  “I’m tired of games,” said Loanna. “They’re for the other kids. We’re different. I love you and you love me. So give me a baby, the way the adult humans do.”

  “It just won’t work,” said Horst unhappily. More than anything in the world, he wanted to please Loanna. “We’re not built right, inside.”

  And Loanna sighed and began to lose interest in life. Horst watched her pining, feeling somehow responsible but unable to help her.

  *

  One day while Loanna was moping about in the rain, Horst had an idea. At the other end of the island was a palace, and in the palace, Horst knew, they made babies. They grew them in vats, and every so often they shipped them to a world called Earth.

  Horst decided to steal a baby for Loanna.

  That night he walked across the island and slipped into the palace, unseen. He found himself in a huge room with rows of containers full of liquid. At the bottom of each container lay a baby. Horst began to move along a row, intent on picking out the most beautiful baby for Loanna.

  But when he reached the third container, the baby leaped out and seized him by the throat.

  It was the most dreadful creature, tiny and hairy, dripping wet and with a chillingly evil face. Horst fought it, but it was incredibly powerful, its skinny little fingers like pincers biting into his flesh. From the corner of his eye, Horst caught sight of other, similar little demons jumping from their vats. He fell, and the vile babies swarmed all over him, snapping and clawing, screeching.

  Then, as he felt his senses slipping away from him, the baby at his throat relaxed its grip. It smiled into his face, showing fangs. It spoke.

  “We don’t want you to die,” it said. “That would be no fun at all.”

  What followed was the most terrible night Horst had experienced. The hairy babies were able to summon up every fear he’d ever known, and play on it, and amplify it, terrifying him systematically, laughing all the while. As he screamed, so they laughed, a shrill cackling not unlike his screaming.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked them at one point, sobbing.

  “Because we are evil,” said the baby. The hair was not the only grotesque feature of these babies. They were thin and wiry and their noses were pointed. Their heads were narrow and their eyes red. Horst had never dreamed that any living creature could be so ugly, or so cruel.

  When dawn came they released him, simply because they were tired of him. It pleased them to think he would never sleep easily again, and for that reason they let him live.

  *

  When the humans saw the appalling monsters that had appeared spontaneously in the cloning vats, they were horrified. By noon the creatures had locked themselves in and were feeding on the tissue banks, fouling what they could not eat. There was a fear that they might start on the normal babies next. They were growing fast, and becoming more terrible by the hour, and the whole region around the palace held a miasma of corruption.

  Light-years away, the leaders of Earth considered the situation. They recognized the creatures as the biggest threat they had faced since the Red Planet’s Weapon.

  “We must destroy the People Planet,” they said.

  An objection was quickly raised by the scientists. “Our only sound genetic material is on that planet. You know the problems we’ve been having recently with the gene bank. If we destroy the People Planet, we could be destroying the future of the human race.”

  By the time they’d finished discussing that point, the monsters, fully grown, had broken out of the palace and were holding the entire planet hostage. Word came of torturings and killings, and unimaginable cruelty.

  “We must talk to them,” said one of Earth’s leaders. “We must try to make them see reason.”

  The fox-people took him to the planet, and he met with the monsters. His message was quite simple: “Either you allow us to remove you to exile on another world, where you can live without troubling us, or we will vaporize this planet, its people, its genetic material and yourselves. In other words, we will cut our losses.”

  For the leaders of Earth had recognized that they had created, unwittingly, the most terrible creatures the Galaxy had ever known, who were purely evil and who would, if unchecked, spread through and dominate the entire area within the compass of the Hate Bombs. Humans could not run from them, because they were trapped by their own Bombs.

  And although the monsters could not use the Outer Think because the psetic lines rejected their evil presence, they were already beginning the construction of their own three-dimensional Spaceships according to an ancient design. They were incredibly quick and clever, and it was rumored that they could jump between happentracks at will, stealing a thought from here, an invention from there. In due course they would discover an anti-Greataway, which would allow them limited local travel.

  The monsters spoke, realizing Earth meant business.

  “How can you send us into exile? The Greataway rejects us.”

  “We will parcel you up in a drogue, and our most capable psycaptains will pilot you.”

  The monsters cackled. “You know what we will do to them, once they land us on our new world.”

  And Earth’s leader said, “We must accept the suffering of two humans as a small price to pay for ridding ourselves of you.”

  The monsters laughed even louder. “Yes, but will they accept that?”

  “I hardly think humans are so selfish as you creatures,” said Earth.

  So they asked the vulpids, who replied: “This is a True Human matter and we want no part of it. Why should we die helping you solve a problem of your own making?”

  So they found a handful of cat-people who still remembered something of the ways of the Outer Think, and asked them.

  And the cat-people replied: “When you True Humans threw up the Hate Bombs without warning, you trapped our best pilots outside, in the distant Greataway. We would not help you True Humans, even if we could.”

  The leaders of Earth searched the nearby inhabited worlds, and they searched the Rainbow, and finally they found the only True Humans who might be able to help. Obtaining a special dispensation from the monsters, they approached Horst and Loanna.

  *

  “You’re asking us to die?” asked Loanna.

  The emissary said, “For the good of the human race. And we must not forget the possibility that the creatures will let you go.”

  “I doubt it. We’ve seen what they are like.”

  “Yes, they hold you prisoner at present. Is what we are asking much worse than that?”

  “A lot worse. On this planet, the monsters have a lot of people to keep them busy. We don’t see them very often. You are suggesting we take them to
a world where we will be the only humans.”

  “For the good of the human race.”

  Loanna said finally, “I suppose we have no choice.”

  But nearby, Horst trembled as the nightmares rode through his mind.

  The fox-people trained Horst and Loanna in the ways of the Outer Think, because up to now the lovers had only been playing at Traveling. Within a week they were ready and, according to instruction, Loanna encircled the Bale Wolves with the silver Chain, while Horst prepared the Helix.

  They also took all records of the events of the past weeks, because Earth wanted the memory erased. Earth was ashamed of the creatures, guessing that they represented all that was evil within Mankind itself, distilled into semihuman form. Earth did not want future generations to know what had happened in the cloning vats that terrible night.

  Horst and Loanna spoke the Apothegm and closed their eyes.

  Nothing happened.

  The creatures, endrogued, capered and spat. The lovers tried again. Again they failed. “I can’t understand it,” said Loanna. “We’ve never had any difficulty before.”

  “It’s my fault,” said Horst. “I can’t do it. I’m frightened of the monsters.” That night in the palace had affected his mind. The proximity of the creatures terrified him, and he could not achieve the serenity that Greataway Travel demands. He never would, as long as he lived.

  And Loanna, brave Loanna, said, “Move away from the Helix, my darling.”

  Horst, not for a moment divining her intent, stepped aside.

  And Loanna disappeared, all by herself, with the cargo of monsters.

  *

  When Horst realized what had happened, he was overcome with guilt and wept for a week. A kind of madness overtook him and people began to avoid him. He thought it was because they despised him, but in fact it was because he no longer behaved rationally and they were frightened of him. He took to wandering alone in the endless rain of his planet, crying out to his distant love. At night he would lie on the ground and watch the sky and imagine Loanna on that alien world, surrounded by the monsters forever, because she was immortal and the monsters would never kill her, for they enjoyed inflicting pain.

  Years passed, until quite unexpectedly it became necessary to Starquin’s purpose that Loanna return one day. However, it was occupying all of Loanna’s mynde to fight the pain inflicted by the monsters, leaving her with no mynde for practicing the Outer Think. As long as they kept torturing her, she could never slip from their grasp.

  One day an old woman appeared to Horst. “Loanna will return,” she said.

  He was insane, and her words hardly registered. “How?” he asked at last.

  “You will help her.”

  He struggled to understand. “I need to know where she is.”

  “She is far away. She passed through many Pockets and took many different psetic lines before she reached her destination. You could not visualize enough of the Greataway to be able to link your mynde with hers.”

  “So how can I help her?” asked Horst.

  “You will build a map,” said the Dedo.

  *

  And so, once every sixty years, the Dedo appeared before Horst and led him through the rain. After a while she would stop and tap the ground with her stick, saying: “Build here.” So Horst would take teams of shrugleggers to a distant quarry, and erect on the spot indicated by the Dedo the biggest monolith that the shrugleggers could drag, and it would take him thirty years to do it. Then he would camp beside it for another thirty years, trying to reach Loanna with his mynde, knowing that every moment lost was a moment of torture for her.

  Millennia went by, and every sixty years Horst would expect the Dedo to say, The map is complete. This stone represents the location of Loanna, and the psetic lines run so, and so. Sit down, Horst, and allow your mynde to flow along those lines, until you meet the mynde of your lost Loanna. Then help her to return.

  But instead, the Dedo would say, “Build here.”

  ARRIVAL OF THE TRIAD

  Selena would never have guessed how lonely Boss Castle would be without Mentor. After she had visited Brutus and found him resting comfortably — although, alarmingly, unable to look her in the face — she returned to her quarters to await the arrival of Zozula. Shortly before noon, following a period during which her imagination had run riot and she had decided that not only Brutus, but Zozula, too, knew about Mentor, she summoned a caracal-girl by the name of Felicity.

  “Do you people have regular contact with the baby factory?” she asked.

  The girl was lithe and slender. She was pretty, too, but now her face twisted in disgust and she almost spat the words, “Contact with those dumb Specialists? Not us!”

  “I think Brutus suspects the existence of Mentor. Could any of you have told him?”

  “No. Why should we? You treat us well, and my father told me that we should never speak of what happens inside this place. It was a part of our original contract when our people became your personal attendants.” There was pride in Felicity’s voice. The caracal-people were fierce and clannish, which was why Selena had chosen them for their present duties.

  “What about your menfolk?” she asked.

  “There are only three. They would die rather than talk to others about Mentor. You ought to know that.”

  “Yes, I ought. I’m sorry. It was a bad day yesterday, and today may be worse. Zozula is arriving from Earth.”

  “Zozula? He’s the head Cuidador from Dome Azul, isn’t he? What does he want?”

  “I wish I knew. He’s bringing a Wild Human and a neotenite.”

  “To the People Planet?” Felicity was outraged, her fingers bent clawlike. “It’s an insult to you — to all of us!”

  “We must try not to see it like that,” said Selena, and by the time the Triad arrived an hour later, she had been able to compose herself. Felicity brought the three Travelers in, and Selena greeted Zozula calmly.

  “Welcome to the People Planet,” she said.

  Zozula was shaking water from his cloak. “I’d forgotten what a godforsaken rock this is,” he said sourly. “Does it ever stop raining?”

  “I saw our sun for at least three minutes yesterday. Did you have a good journey?”

  “Tolerable, although I’d feel a little happier if those vulpids cut out some of the mumbo jumbo. It seems to me that every profession has built up a mystique around itself over the years. I sometimes think the sole purpose is to make it difficult for us True Humans to maintain control. Do you ever have any problems up here?”

  Zozula’s question had emerged so naturally out of his remarks that she had to assume there was no ulterior meaning. “Not usually,” she said. “But Brutus’s injury triggered a reaction. Suddenly the Specialists are complaining about everything, and they’ve demanded a formal discussion. We’re meeting later this afternoon.” She went on to describe the circumstances surrounding Brutus’s accident.

  The Girl spoke for the first time. She looked even paler than usual. “Brutus sounds like a very good person.”

  “Well, he could make us very bad persons in the eyes of the Specialists. I can’t think why he took such a chance. After all, what’s one neotenite more or less?” The moment Selena said the last words, she regretted them.

  “Watch your tongue,” said Manuel, giving her an angry look.

  Selena swallowed. How could a Wild Human speak to her like that? As the frustrations of the past days came rushing back to her, she found herself very close to tears. “Who do you think you are?” she asked unsteadily, “Coming to my world and —”

  “Hold it, Selena,” said Zozula quickly, before matters could get out of hand. “Let’s get to the purpose of our visit. How are you getting along with your neoteny research?”

  It was the wrong question, and too abruptly put. “I’m getting nowhere,” Selena snapped. “Weren’t you listening? The Specialists are using Brutus’s accident as a lever to get concessions and promises out of us. I’m
getting no cooperation at all.”

  “I’ll deal with the Specialists,” said Zozula tactlessly.

  “Over my dead body!”

  “Well, I thought you said —”

  This time it was Manuel who came to the rescue. “I’m sorry if I was rude, Selena,” he said with surprising humility. “Now, it’s really important that we talk about the neoteny problem. You see, two days ago we hooked up the Girl to the Diagnoser, and the results weren’t good. It seems neotenites aren’t suitable for leading a normal life, even if they’ve got plenty of courage, as the Girl has. The Diagnoser says the Girl is simply wearing out and she’ll be dead within the year. So, as I said, it’s really important we stop quarreling and talk about this problem.”

  The shock of Manuel’s statement had the desired effect, and Selena said quietly, “I’m sorry, Girl. I didn’t know.”

  She explained about the missing crystal. “I’ve wondered whether Brutus took it, but I don’t think he did. It’s lost, and that’s all there is to it. I went to see the Everlings, but they don’t use memory pottos. There was just one Everling who might have helped — an artist called Joe.” She nodded at the painting, which she had hung on the wall that morning. “He painted that, as a matter of fact.”

  Zozula glanced at the picture. “Nice. Pretty girl.”

  Manuel looked at it, and kept looking. “Who is she?” he asked at last.

  “I don’t know. Joe lost the memory.”

  Manuel said slowly, “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.”

  “What about Belinda?” asked the Girl in surprisingly acid tones. “What about Polysitia, and all that? It seems to me you’re rather fickle, Manuel.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Manuel. He watched the painting greedily, as though he expected the model to step off the canvas. “She’s so … real.”

  “Joe didn’t paint her for himself,” said Selena. “Perhaps he painted her for you, Manuel.”