“Consider history in a secondary planet—one like Terra, that starts its history with all the ninety-two elements. It first goes through a Stone Age. (As did we.) Then it discovers copper, and next that excellent copper-tin alloy, bronze. So it then enters into a Bronze Age. But more than this, it enters into metallurgy. It acquires the skills in metallurgy that it must have before it can have an Iron Age. So you see, having neither copper nor tin, my people could not have a Bronze Age, and if no Bronze Age, no Iron Age. And the lack of heavy metals had other consequences. Without gold or silver for coins, we had little trade or commerce. Again, our lack of copper denied us the electrical sciences. And since we had no uranium, nuclear power was, of course, unthinkable. And needless to say, we had no means of interplanetary flight. We did not even have heavier-than-air machines.”
The pilgrim stopped, and seemed to stare through Andrek, and beyond, into flickering scenes of his own far-distant planet and youth.
“Go on!” said Andrek tensely. “You said the Terrans came. Did they colonize your planet?”
Iovve shook his head. “Our planet seemed desolate to them—not worth their attention, except as a refueling base. And our peculiar introverted specialty, forced on us by simple lack of other occupations, was not at first apparent to the Terrans. Later, this happy skill took us as honored guests throughout the Twelve Galaxies.”
“And what was this—skill?” asked Andrek.
“We were physicians and surgeons. The profession was probably inevitable for us. For when a culture is denied technology, it becomes introspective. It turns inward. It occupies itself with its own body, and with the responses of its body. What we had missed in the hardware sciences we more than made up in the science of the mind and body. And when we were finally exposed to other cultures, our prime interest in bodies continued, and was extended to the life forms of our new neighbors. In this manner, most of us left our home planet, to market our one great skill. Yet, we communicated with each other, and we were a cohesive body. Some of us had strange adventures. Ah, the things I could tell you!”
By the Beard of the Founder, thought Andrek, I believe you could! He said, “I understand now why you belong to the Iatric Order of Ritornel.” He fancied Iovve nearly smiled. “Continue, then,” said Andrek curtly.
“When the Terran Wars broke out—the Horror—as you survivors so aptly call it, I called my brothers to one last convention. It was clear to us then that Terra must eventually be destroyed, and probably a good part of the Home Galaxy with her. We decided what we must do to give civilization another chance, a return as it were. I suggested a simple codeword for the operation: Ritornel.”
“What!”
“Yes, Ritornel. Does this astound you? I can see that it might, for Ritornel today bears little resemblance to my original concept. Yet, we were the original missionary physicians of Ritornel. Wherever we went, we carried the Prophesy: a virgin, not of mother born, to renew life, on a new world, and thus to complete the Ring. In the course of the centuries, I regret to say, Ritornel has changed drastically. Miracles, martyrs, and myths can ruin a perfectly good religion. When the supernatural flies in the window, logic stumbles out the door. Today I would not be admitted to any but the lowest circles of the Temple. And, of course, in some of the chapters, I would not be admitted at all.”
“Iovve,” said Andrek quietly, “please listen to me a moment. You have referred to participation in events that took place centuries ago, well before the Horror. No—let me finish… And just now you have, in effect, told me that you are the Founder of Ritornel. Now, listening to this objectively, won’t you grant that some skepticism is justified?”
“James, my dear innocent, you need not believe a word of what I have told you. Nevertheless, I do hope my simple story has not completely exhausted your credulity, for I have not finished.”
Was it possible? mused Andrek. Could he prove it was impossible? And in any case, what difference did it make? For the time being, he’d reserve judgment. “So you founded Ritornel,” he said noncommittally. “Then what?”
“We took counsel. Midway in the course of the Horror, we decided what to do. We would select an optimum specimen of the best culture known to us. This specimen would actually consist of a male and female of the species, and we would place this couple in suitable surroundings, quite inaccessible, and completely isolated from all other life systems. There, in peace, a new race would be propagated, and in time would dominate the universe. In the beginning, there were many of us, seeking this new couple. But now my brothers are dead. I am the last. Truly, Ritornel is no longer Ritornel. But it doesn’t matter. My mission is done. The Ring of Ritornel will soon be complete.”
“And this preservation of the species, this is the true purpose of Ritornel? This is the Ring?”
“The same.”
“But I still don’t see the symbolism. Ritornel means ‘return.’ What are we returning to?”
“We return to life. Or rather, civilization, after nearly dying, shall return, preserved by and through the selected couple. You may liken it to an ancient Terran oak forest. Every tree may die; yet, if but one acorn be saved, the forest may yet again live. Or again, it is like the preservation of a bacterial culture. If but one cell be preserved, the entire culture can return to life, assuming, of course, that the proper nutrient medium is available. So, first of all, we needed the proper medium within which our male and female specimens could preserve their species. This, of course, had to be a planet. Obviously, it should be a planet of a mature star system—one containing all the elements, not a primitive one, like mine. As the Horror progressed several candidates became available. For several reasons, we selected Terra. The main argument was that she was completely desolate, and was being hauled to the Node to be destroyed. Our planet had to be taken to the Node, for reasons that you will soon see.”
“I see one thing very clearly,” said Andrek thoughtfully. “I see that you have made an utter fool of me. I thought you were my friend. Your only interest in me was to make that speech before the arbiters, to save Terra, so that Terra could become the planet of Ritornel.”
Iovve’s leathery features twisted into a smile. “You are too modest, Don Andrek. My interest in you does not end with your famous speech to the arbiters, legal landmark though it be. Oh, indeed not.”
“All right,” said Andrek. “Get on with it. I’ve done your work for you. Here’s Terra at the Node—as far as possible from civilization. Is this what you meant by preservation in isolation?”
“Not exactly. For that, we need one thing more.”
“The quake?”
“Yes. As I have already mentioned to you, the quake will take Terra into the Deep.”
“How about your couple,” said Andrek. “Your male and female specimens, the ancestors of the new race? How do you select them? And then how do you get them into the Deep?”
“Very perceptive questions, dear boy. First, let us address ourselves to the rationale of selection. Suppose that you had the task of selecting this seed … spore … cell … this ancestral couple, to become the progenitors of the surviving race. There are hundreds of strong contenders—ranging from the water people that dominate the Hydraid Galaxy, to the chilinous denizens of the arid worlds of the Spereld suns. All are intelligent, cultured, prolific, technically advanced. And all—though they do not yet realize it—are doomed by Omega. Which one will be given the chance to try again?”
“No problem there,” said Andrek. “The selector owes a duty to his own race to select it.”
“Wrong, my boy. It is quite natural for the votaries to reconstruct the gods anthropomorphically, in their own image. However, when the ‘gods’ create, they should be more imaginative.”
“You talk in riddles, old one.”
“Only because you are naive, uninformed, and difficult to instruct.”
Andrek laughed. “Instruct me.”
“Listen, then, and be instructed. We of Ritornel decided very early
that mere technical competence in our prospective couple was not enough. We looked for other qualities—racial features that deserved immortality. And our search was successful. We found the characteristics we sought: in the hominid.”
“What characteristics are you talking about?”
“Several. Do you realize that of the twelve basic cultures, only the hominid dreams? That only the hominid sees visions, and mourns, has a sense of tragedy? That only the hominid believes firmly in things he cannot see? That only the hominid sings for pure useless pleasure, and laughs, and writes poetry?”
“Really? That’s quite curious. I had not thought about it.”
“Well, then, I suggest you give it some thought. What is the hominid, that strangers should prefer him above all other life forms? He is cold and logical: yet he laughs and sings. He is cruel, and he has the lust of the male goat: yet he weeps and is acquainted with grief. You described him well to the arbiters. Verily, he is beyond knowing. Perhaps this helped our choice.”
“Very well, then,” said Andrek, “the Founder of Ritornel selects what is to him an alien couple, two hominids, for deposit in the Deep. And right away your scheme is doomed to failure. For even if you were able to get Terra and your male and female into the Deep, they would never come out again. They’d all be lost forever. Nothing except space, has ever come out of the Deep.”
“You are wrong.” The pilgrim reached into his robes and drew out a pendant Ritornellian ring, which he unfastened. “Catch,” he said, tossing it to Andrek.
The advocate caught it and examined it, at first casually, then more closely. There was something very strange about it. For one thing, the Ritornellian series, from one to twelve, then back again to one, was inside the ring, whereas in all rings he had ever seen before, the series was outside. Nor was that all. He studied the digits carefully, turning the ring slowly in his fingers. All the numbers were backward. He looked up at Iovve. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“It is antimatter,” said the other calmly.
7. “AMATAR … AND YOU, ANDREK”
Andrek gasped and let the ring fly from his hands. It ricocheted against a wall, then floated free, gleaming at him.
“Don’t worry,” said Iovve. “It has been passivated. And in any case, the ursecta would not let it annihilate, here at the Node.”
“But—it must weigh a good twenty grams! There’s not a Klein circlet in any of the Twelve Galaxies with power capable of converting an object that size to antimatter!”
“True. Not in any of the twelve. But there is one between the galaxies.”
“You mean here? At the Node?”
“Exactly. Into the Deep, and out again—a perfect Klein. Reverses polarity of the individual atoms, and of course turns everything inside-out and backward, including the numbers.”
“The numbers!” Andrek jumped up and seized the ring again. “Of course! This thing has been in the Deep! But why doesn’t it annihilate on contact with my hand—or even with the molecules of the air?”
“As I said, it has been passivated. It has a surface layer of neutrons that almost completely precludes contact with normal matter. The few molecules that do make contact are harmless. I’m sure you know the theory. The addition of neutrons prevents the approach of particles of opposite charge. The number of neutrons to be added depends upon the structure of a given atom. Calcium is the highest ‘stabile.’ There you have twenty protons in the nucleus, and you need only twenty neutrons to prevent the approach of the negative shell electrons. For higher atomic numbers you need proportionately more neutrons. For example, for bismuth, you need one hundred and twenty-six neutrons to neutralize eighty-three protons in the nucleus. And thereafter, the addition of neutrons doesn’t completely stabilize, and the atoms are radioactive. And that is why an antimatter body normally glows in the dark. It ionizes the air about it, like a neon lamp. Outside the Node, away from the ursecta, the ring would have a blue glow.”
Andrek looked over at Iovve. He remembered now the curious impression he had experienced on several past occasions … that encounter in Huntyr’s office, and later in the dim-lit cabin in Xerol, when the pilgrim’s face had been bathed in a pale blue glow. Andrek looked at the ring, then back again at Iovve. His mouth slowly opened wide. The hair began to stand up on the back of his neck. “You—” he gurgled. “The Deep—?”
Iovve nodded gravely. “I have been in the Deep. My body is antimatter.”
Andrek’s heart seemed to dissolve within him. It was impossible, unimaginable. Yet it was true. And this meant everything Iovve had told him was true. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a bottomless chasm, leaning into the blackness, and beginning to fall. He jerked up straight, and fought off a feeling of dizziness.
“How can this be!” he cried.
“It was part of the plan of Ritornel,” said Iovve. “We were weak, nearly defenseless. To accomplish Ritornel, we needed immense power, power that would permit us to cope with the armed might of the Twelve Galaxies, and even more important, power sufficient to transmit our selected hominid specimens from normal space into the Deep. We were aware of the work on creation of antimatter by sending a tiny amount of metal down a Klein circuit, and we knew that tremendous power could be developed at the normal matter/antimatter interface. Our theorists then determined that the topology of the Node epicenter at quake time was exactly identical to that of a Klein circuit. In theory, at least, any object at the epicenter will be sucked back into the Deep by the quake. So far, so good. It’s simple to get a thing into the Deep. To get it out again is quite another matter. Obviously, we needed a diplon, a double quake. The first part would put me in the Deep, the second would bring me out again, into normal space, as antimatter.”
“And there you would annihilate,” interposed Andrek. “Except, of course, you very obviously didn’t. Why didn’t you?”
“My colleagues prepared my body. There were certain surgical procedures, necessary to adapt the dermal nerve endings, and to permit control of the antimatter/normal matter interface.”
“According to history,” said Andrek heavily, “the last diplon was over five hundred years ago.”
“Yes, that was the one. The Horror had just begun. I remember every detail. The Node Station was not quite so large or elaborate then as now, but it was otherwise the same. They left it here, at epicenter, on automatic, to broadcast quake data. There was a chair in the center of the seismographic room. I sat in it, waiting for the quake, the same as now.”
Andrek bent forward, fascinated. “What was the quake like, when it came?”
“Rather a big jolt. The station simply disintegrated. I’m still amazed that I wasn’t killed. And then I was in the Deep.”
“And what was it like, in the Deep?”
“For a man unskilled in the ways of patience, the Deep can be a torture. For a very old creature, such as myself, it was—endurable. Still, it would have been better if I had had a companion. A person in the Deep is a disembodied spirit. He can touch nothing. There is nothing there to touch. Yet, he can imagine he touches. He cannot hear or sense his own voice, because he has neither ears nor throat nor voice.”
“But even if someone had accompanied you into the Deep, you would not have been able to communicate with him,” observed Andrek.
“We weren’t sure. Our studies showed that there very well might be a type of rudimentary telepathic communication.”
“Then finally,” said Andrek, “you emerged from the Deep. And you were antimatter, possessing fantastic powers?”
“Yes. A long time ago.”
“And you still possess these powers?”
“Yes—and no. Because of the ursecta, there can be no nuclear power of any type at the Node. I have been powerless, ever since we entered the Node area.”
“Your force field, back on Xerol—that really emanated from your own body, didn’t it?”
“Yes. That was just an extension of my antimatter/normal matter epiderma
l juncture. It’s good over a distance of several hundred yards. It permits passage through any adverse shield, too, I might add, because the antimatter field radiates in vibrations exactly perpendicular to normal electromagnetic radiation. You probably remember this from Kedrys’ lecture.”
“Yes, I remember. I also remember that fairytale you gave me about plugging your force-field apparatus in to the wall current, back on Xerol.”
Iovve smiled. “I very nearly tripped up on that one, didn’t I? Fortunately, you plugged it in just in time.”
Andrek smiled grimly. “No, I didn’t. But no matter. And I gather then, back on Xerol, when I first found you, you weren’t really drugged?”
“Again, yes and no. I was paralyzed. No doubt of that. Except for my eye muscles, my nervous system was completely occupied in dealing with the alien normal matter circulating in my bloodstream. It was touch-and-go there for several hours. I was very nearly annihilated. Your antidote reacted with the drug to increase its vapor pressure, so that I could finally void it through my lungs and dermis. To be antimatter isn’t to be omnipotent; far from it.”
“Can you be killed?” said Andrek curiously.
The Ring of Ritornel Page 19