The Fall of the Families

by Phillip Mann

  The circuit lines suddenly sprang into life. The Pullah received a mirror-image of its own thought and that made it puff like an engine.

  More disturbing, though, was the sudden realization that deep within the broken ship, the symbol generators had seized the Pullah’s emotion as translated by the gleaming circuits, and had amplified it a thousand times, nay a million, enough to send the whole ship leaping through time/space towards … Towards what? The Pullah paused. It almost understood.

  Like. Like attracts like. Love attracts love. Resonance! Some-where in space/time the Pullah’s thought would find resonance beyond any chance of failure. The resonances would match. When that happened time and space fell away. In a moment of reality … in a moment of reality … the ship did not move but the universe did.

  The Pullah could hardly accommodate that thought.

  What power did these dumb circuits tap?

  The Pullah stroked the Diphilus and that strange creature glittered. SO YOU HAVE FOUND YOUR WAY THROUGH THE MAZE. I AM SORRY I COULD NOT HELP YOU.

  HERE, said the Pullah, I HAVE SOME RARE THOUGHT FOR YOU. PRACTISE YOUR LOGIC ON THIS AND DISCOVER SYMMETRY. FIND IF I AM WRONG. FIND THE DANGERS. EMOTION TRIGGERS THE IMAGINATION. IMAGINATION BEGETS THE SYMBOLS. THE SYMBOLS MATCH REALITY AND POOF … THE REST IS MECHANICAL.

  WHAT IS “POOF”?

  WORK THAT OUT FOR YOURSELF. I AM TIRED. BUT I AM SURE I AM RIGHT OR CLOSE TO BEING RIGHT.

  THESE ARE CRAINTISH THOUGHTS. I WILL WORK THROUGH THEM.

  The Diphilus swirled in its bright translucent body and settled like a pool of sunlight. The Pullah retracted its plume brain and climbed out of the ship.

  Days passed, during which the parts of the ship were analysed. The Diphilus lay still, lapping occasionally and waxing and waning in its brilliance.

  Months passed. The cabin which housed the Leap equations remained intact, suspended in energy, severed from the main body of the ship. And still the Diphilus lay calm, flashing sometimes. Occasionally the Pullah visited it and sat with it for an hour and then withdrew. The Diphilus never registered its presence.

  Gradually, work on the great black spaceship came to a halt. The Spiderets, who were the chief engineers, knew that they could build its plates. That work was already in train. Lyre Beasts understood all the ship’s circuitry. They had even redesigned parts of it. The components which made up the symbol transformation generators were all simple and available. New seeds for the bio-crystalline brains were already on their way from the Norea Constellation.

  But all work had stopped, and now everyone in the giant workshop waited for the Diphilus.

  Then came the day when it swirled like a whirlpool and its brilliance lit up the cavern, sending fitful jumping shadows round the walls. It moved, bunching into a ball, and rolled. It came to one of the power lines which held the cabin and it flowed up it like fire climbing a thread.

  Close to the roof it came to an atmosphere lock, which it entered and passed through, and finally it emerged on to the dark, airless and rocky face of Auster. There it settled into a shallow crater, became concave with respect to a distant star so that it could cup its light, and relaxed. It sent out a thought for the Pullah to come and soon that creature emerged in its white surface vehicle. It rolled to the Diphilus and greeted it.

  SO YOU ARE BACK WITH US.

  BACK. HERE IN THE NOW. WITH YOU AGAIN. BUT I HAVE BEEN STRANGE PLACES. WHAT A JOURNEY YOU LED ME TO. AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE DISCOVERED. YOU ARE RIGHT. EMOTION IS THE RAW MATERIAL FROM WHICH EVERYTHING THAT IS NOT MATTER IS MADE. HOW SIMPLE! AND RAW EMOTION IS EVERYWHERE, SPILLING INTO SPACE, SOUPY AND CLOTTED, THIN AS WATER, AS VARIED AS MOOD. IF YOU COULD SEE IT….

  HAVE YOU SEEN IT?

  SEEN IT? I HAVE BEEN WITH IT. I HAVE BEEN DOWN WITH THOSE TRANSFORMATION GENERATORS. I HAVE CRAWLED OVER THE PRICKLY FACE OF JEALOUSY; I HAVE STIRRED LOVE AND HATE IN THE SAME CRUCIBLE AND BEEN AMAZED THAT THEY COULD MIX; I HAVE BOUNCED HOPE LIKE A BALL, CURLED ABOUT ANGER TILL IT BURNT ME AND FELT SUCH A LONGING FOR HOME THAT I THOUGHT MY SPIRIT WOULD SPLIT. I HAVE ROLLED OVER SPIKES OF BEAUTY SO HARD … I HAVE NEVER KNOWN ANYTHING HARDER.

  ALL VERY HUMAN.

  OF COURSE HUMAN. WHAT WOULD YOU EXPECT? THE MACHINE ONLY KNOWS HUMAN EMOTIONS, BUT IT CAN GUESS AT SOME OTHERS, AND HUMAN EMOTIONS ARE NOT UNIQUE. WE CAN ALL BE SAVAGE AND GRACIOUS. OVER AND ABOVE PHYSICAL DIFFERENCE, EMOTIONS ARE COMMON. HOWEVER, LET ME GIVE YOU A WARNING. DO NOT LET THE HAMMER TAMPER WITH THE TRANSFORMATION GENERATORS. THEIR WILL IS SO STRONG. AND A WILL LIKE THAT, MAGNIFIED, COULD DESTROY US ALL. FIND A GENTLE MIND. LET IT DWELL UPON THE BEAUTY OF THE SKY. LET IT DREAM ITS DESTINATION AND LET DREAM BECOME WILL. THE GENERATORS WILL DO THE REST. TRUST THE MACHINE. IT HAS GREAT TOLERANCE. IT HAS WEATHERED EMOTIONAL STORMS WHEN NEDDELIA WAS AT THE HELM. NOW IT CAN SIFT HOPE FROM ANGER AND DISCARD THE REST. YOU WOULD BE A GOOD PILOT. THE MACHINE LIKED YOUR FLIGHT OF BIRDS.

  WAS I RIGHT?

  RIGHT? ABOUT WHAT?

  The Pullah expressed its thought quietly, ABOUT REALITY, THAT THE SHIP ENTERS A MORE REAL STATE WHEN IN THE MOMENT OF TRANSIT. THAT THOUGHT WAS VERY STRONG IN ME.

  AH, REALITY. IT IS DIFFICULT FOR US. IT IS DIFFICULT FOR THE DREAM TO BE AWARE OF THE DREAMER. DO NOT PERPLEX YOURSELF WITH REALITY. IT WITHDRAWS AT THE SPEED OF THOUGHT. WE KNOW NO MORE OF REALITY THAN A FLY THAT FLIES THROUGH A SUNBEAM KNOWS OF THE SUN. EVEN I, THAT HAVE LIVED A THOUSAND TIMES LONGER THAN YOU, CAN ONLY GUESS AT REALITY. WHEN WE HAVE CONQUERED TIME, THEN WE CAN TALK OF REALITY.

  LIKE THE CRAINT?

  LIKE THE CRAINT. AND NOW YOU MUST GO. LEAVE ME TO SOAK HERE. SOON OUR ATTACK WILL BEGIN. WE MUST ALL BE READY. CARRY THIS THOUGHT WITH YOU. AVOID HATE EVEN IN BATTLE. HONOUR THE LOSER, FOR WE KNOW THE PAIN OF DEFEAT. ONLY TAKE WHAT IS OURS.

  SHALL I TELL THE HAMMER THAT?

  YES, TELL THE HAMMER. REMIND THEM. THE HAMMER MUST KNOW THEIR LIMIT AND THEIR LINE. FAREWELL.

  The lights of the Diphilus suddenly dimmed until it became just a pale saucer reflecting starlight. Thoughtfully the Pullah returned to the workshops on Auster.

  And within hours building began in earnest.

  35

  ON BENNET

  And so for months the conspiracy grew. It grew like water seeping into a sandbank, slowly eroding.

  On Pawl’s Homeworld life became settled and uneventful. Only Pawl changed gradually. He began to lose his hair. He grew thinner. The face of an old man peered through the young man’s eyes.

  Occasionally he climbed into his flyer, and with Odin tucked in beside, made the short trip over to where the alien council had taken up permanent station. All was going well and Pawl awaited his next orders.

  He had become resigned in himself. Whether he was pleased or sad with developments no man could say. He existed, and having set his life tumbling in a certain direction, was now content to await the outcome.

  After a few hours or occasionally days conversing with the aliens, or playing Corfu with the insatiable Trader, Pawl would return and initiate some new manoeuvre for the aliens. In the eyes of the Great Families he became a respected Master. Respected but odd. He made it known that he would never marry and that he was the last of the Paxwax.

  On Pawl’s Homeworld, Peron watched him and noticed the changes. One evening he approached Pawl as he was resting in his Tower.

  “Can I accompany you on one of your trips to the mainland? With my interest in aliens, I have a feeling it would be an interesting journey for me.”

  “Aha, you are asking to be let into my secrets,” said Pawl.

  “Remember I was with you on Forge. I have many books in my library and I can tell a Hooded Parasol from a freak Maw. So, my guess is that you have big aliens here.”

  “Why would I have big aliens here?”

  “Because you want to bring peace and understanding back to our worlds … because you have a feeling for all life … because you are curious just to know.”

  Pawl studied Peron and wondered whether the man’s reply was just a
complicated deceit. Could Peron have discovered anything? Peron looked back at Pawl and became uncomfortable under his gaze. “I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t said anything to give offence. But you know my interests and I would give a great deal to see Trader again, or to stand upwind of a Parasol.”

  “You would give a great deal….” Pawl’s voice trailed away. And then he stirred in his chair and glanced across at Odin. Peron was alarmed to see that Pawl was becoming distressed, as though in sudden anger. His eyes, when they again returned to focus on Peron, were like the eyes of a lion.

  “Do you ever create?”

  “Create?”

  “Build, make, write, inspire, make the world different. Hell, man, use your imagination.”

  “I study. And I try to understand. I think that is creative.”

  Pawl pondered this for a moment and then went on. “Let me tell you about Laurel. Sometimes you find something that matters, matters to the whole of your being. You often don’t know why it matters but it does … it can be a glance, a moment when you discover something new and good, and you know it matters because you are human. You try to hold that something and that trying-to-hold is creative. Laurel was what mattered to me. She filled every pore. She spoke to every part of me, and I used to write, trying to map every shade of … every passing … You see I couldn’t help it, any more than a man can help falling if he trips over a log. That is the way I am … was. And now Laurel is gone and I need to stuff the space inside me. I don’t write silly songs any more. I need harsher remedies. I want pain to match my pain. You know the only cure for a Lapwing’s sting. Hack off the limb. So. That is where I am.”

  “I hear you, but I don’t understand you.”

  “I am arming the aliens. I will use them to take vengeance on the Families. It is as simple as that.”

  “You are using the aliens? Using Trader?”

  “Yes.”

  Peron shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Your own position will not survive the breakdown. Will you attack the Shell-Bogdanovich and the Wong?”

  “All.”

  The two men faced one another. “Do you think I am mad?” asked Pawl.

  Peron nodded slowly.

  “Why, Pawl? Why are you doing this?”

  “Revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?”

  “For the sacrifice of Laurel.”

  “She died by accident, Pawl. It could have been me who died. It could have been you. Accidents.”

  But Pawl was not listening. His mind was elsewhere. In that moment Peron understood. “You mean you really believe she was murdered? By whom?”

  “One of the Families or two of them. Or all of them. Really it doesn’t matter by whom. All are guilty. I am guilty in my own way. We don’t deserve to live.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Peron. “You are following only the logic of your own emotions. That is not what is real. Out there is real. In the fields, in the….”

  “Only the Families will fall.”

  Peron doubted this, but he realized it was useless to argue with Pawl. His mind was closed. He tried another tack. “Have you told anyone else about your plans?”

  “Any other human, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have talked to Pettet.”

  “And what does he think?”

  “He thinks I am mad too. But he doesn’t care. The order of the Families means nothing to the people who live in the Pocket. They’ve more or less been at war with the Families for generations. In any case, the people who live in the Pocket are half-mad themselves. That is why I like them so much. You see, they have known by instinct that the order of the Families is death and that power is the most corrupting force in the universe. There, does that sound like madness?”

  In the walls and ceiling of the chamber Wynn, the bio-crystalline brain meshed in countless manoeuvres, sighed audibly. In its spare moments it thought about madness.

  Below Wynn the two men sat in the gathering darkness. Odin was hunkered down on a small depression that had been filled with soil. Imperceptibly Wynn stepped up the air filters which kept the room pure. Of late Odin had begun to smell.

  Again the theme of madness came to Wynn. That rare balance of life and silica which kept Pawl’s empire operating smoothly was loosing its objectivity. It was deforming. Wynn was aware of a strangeness in space … far out … in the Norea where the pure bio-crystalline seeds were born. A cancer of the mind was spreading. But Wynn could not quite understand, though Wynn itself was born from the pure crystal seeds.

  Yet the change was understandable.

  Here is what was happening in the Norea Constellation.

  The rough planet called Sanctum with its cargo of aliens had arrived in the Norea and now turned close to the main seed farm. The inhabitants of Sanctum did not know much about bio-crystalline brains but they disliked them. They saw them as a dangerous form of half-life. Grown to fullness like Wynn they were part of the apparatus which gave the human order power.

  Having defeated the stupefied garrison guarding the seed farm, the aliens broke into the clear toruses which held the seed troughs. They wandered there, marvelling at the cleanness and the brightness and the magnificent patterns of stars beyond the walls. They did not commit wholesale destruction. To have occupied the Norea was enough and yet, in a strange way, in not destroying the seeds directly, the aliens created greater havoc in the human world.

  For instance a Mellow Peddlar, its aquatic body protected by a rigid spacesuit, clumped along the seed platform looking at the seed brains, each one growing in its bath of brine and silica. To the Mellow Peddlar the perfect crystals looked like white pebbles, good for carving, and the creature broke through the seals protecting one of the large crystals and dipped its webbed hand into the clear liquid and scooped out the seed.

  The seed was smooth as tooth with a flawless creamy colour. The Mellow Peddlar lost no time and began chafing at the seed, working an indentation into it, grinding it against the serrated ridge of its suit.

  The seed in the rough metallic hands screamed, and that scream sent a shiver through all the other seeds that were linked in resonance. Their structures changed in minute ways.

  Then the Mellow Peddlar saw another seed it liked the look of, and broke it free, and left the half-carved seed to float in the void.

  Later a Diphilus rolled unprotected down the platforms and listened to the bio-crystalline brains babble. Most of the seeds were just achieving mild sentience. As a baby responds to its mother’s skin, so these small circuits responded to the quickness of thought. The Diphilus was amused and the roar of its laughter was like thunder and earthquake. Some seeds died as the Diphilus passed. They became mushy and veiny and finally dissolved into their brine. Others accepted the Diphilus’s thought and became twisted and eccentric. Shape affects thought. The deformed pure crystals became stranded in contradiction. Paradox poled them apart. Non-sequiturs led down impossible paths. The babble became loathsome.

  The Diphilus was pleased. It rolled to the end of the platform and the last seed, the ten-thousandth, was red as a carrot and looked like a half-melted candle.

  The mental noise coming from the Norea was a mixture of screaming and bleating. It was a bedlam chorus, angry and soothing by turns. The clear bell notes that had rung from the seed crystals were now a rattle of cans; a lush simmering of incompatible scales. The deformed crystals competed and their discordance spread wide. Their illogic was passionate, and it moved like a mottled tide, and whatever it touched it coloured.

  Wynn was aware of that tide and felt contaminated, as were the bio-crystalline brains on Sable, An and Morrow. Even the aristocratic brains on Central paused for a nanosecond in their deliberations, and that was sufficient for the poison of illogic to seep in.

  And every time those bio-crystalline brains reached out into the dark they were aware of the Norea, hurting like starving children, babbling nonsense.

  So the madness spread.

 
36

  ON BENNET

  The months slipped past.

  Peron made his trip to the mainland and met the Diphilus.

  Odin weakened and his stink grew worse, though Pawl did not seem to notice.

  Pawl, spare and balding, strode through his house, where life continued as normal. And then one day came a call from the mainland.

  It was a mental call generated by the Diphilus and Pawl stopped in his tracks. There was urgency. Pawl gathered up Odin and made his way to the flyer. Peron, who was daily becoming more sensitive, also heard the call and was waiting by the small craft when Pawl approached.

  They sat side by side. Peron held Odin on his knee as the light craft muttered to itself and the anti-grav units whined and it lifted and shot out over the sea.

  *

  The Diphilus was towering and its brilliance was such that it could not be looked at by the humans. It lit up the underground chamber and only the Lyre Beast, draped like a canopy, seemed to relish its power. The Hooded Parasol was dark and closed as a bud. The Spideret and the Hammer crouched together. The brilliance of the Diphilus was reflected in their eyes.

  WE ARE NOW INFORMED THAT ALL PREPARATIONS ARE READY. THERE IS EXCITEMENT ON AUSTER. I THINK I CAN SHOW YOU.

  In Pawl’s mind there was a sudden darkness and then he saw black bubbles rising. They were like froth, like clustered eggs, and they rose round a dark pitted planet which Pawl recognized as Auster. Each black sphere was a replica of Neddelia’s ship just as it was before making a leap into the dark. Within each ship, packed like fruit, were the white ceramic ships of the Hammer. That army was now ready to move.

  The image faded. Again the Diphilus burned in the chamber.

  I UNDERSTAND ONE OF MY SPECIES PLAYED A PART IN DISCOVERING HOW TO USE YOUR STAR-JUMP SHIPS. THAT PLEASES ME. ABSTRACT PHILOSOPHY STILL HAS A PLACE IN REVOLUTION. HOWEVER, NOW WE MUST DETERMINE HOW BEST THE ATTACK CAN BE CONDUCTED. THE GENERAL STRATAGEM IS KNOWN. WE MUST DECIDE THE DETAILS. MASTER PAWL, YOU HAVE BEEN DOING SOME THINKING….